The Toy Boy

The Point: Rescue Mission, Begin!

"Alright, let's get to the point."

Aizawa slammed a file down on his desk. The class didn't flinch.

"We have a very dangerous mission to carry out. We will be rescuing a boy who went missing eleven years ago. The heroes have made no effort towards finding him at all. So, as the future generation, we have to help him. Location, dates, and formations will be in your folders. Got it?"

The class nodded.

"Bakugou?" Aizawa asked, inviting the teen to speak.

"His name is Izuku Midoriya. Him and I were childhood friends. He has green hair and green eyes, and a ton of freckles on his face. Take note that he may look different when we go to rescue him, so keep that in mind."

The class nodded.

"Alright then," Aizawa said. "Let's go."

﹌﹌﹌
They were towering over him. No matter how long he would be here, Izuku thought, he would never get used to their cold, heartless glares.

They grabbed him roughly. One took his right arm and the other took his left. He had learned, over the years, to never, ever resist.

They brought him to the Room. He hated this room, the way the shackles on the wall always clinked together when there was a draft. The way the silver table off to the side shimmered in the neon green light. How the glimmering purple, red, and colorless substances in the syringes made his eyes glow and his limbs sear with pain. He hated that.

He had noted, after the first year, a heavy weight on his back. Over time, though, the weight on his back got lighter and lighter, until finally they installed something in him that would make the weight disappear completely.

They pressed the button on his back, and his wind slid off. He winced. It was like having a limb torn off. But Izuku had gotten used to the pain.

They sat him down on the metal table and ran their hands through his tangled green curls, saying empty words that were supposed to be soothing.

"It's okay..."

"It'll all be over soon..."

"You've got this..."

The words. They were so empty. Izuku hated them, but he knew if he spoke then he would get in trouble. So he just nodded and kept his mouth shut.

Then came the needles. They never explained to him what they were injecting into him. Just that annoying chant of the empty words Izuku hated.

As soon as the needle entered his skin, Izuku let out a cry of pain. His eyes glowed, a result of the purple liquid entering his body. His veins seared with the vibrant neon liquid as Izuku screamed and screamed in pain.

Usually, when Izuku screamed this loud, they would stop because of the noise. But this time they kept on going. Colors flashed through Izuku's vision: Reds and purples, greens and blues.

Finally, after an hour that felt like years, Izuku was left curled up on the metal table, shaking and crying.

They picked him up and left the Room, bringing him back to his tiny cell. They threw him on the floor despite knowing what pain he was in, and left, still chanting those innocent, empty words.

"You got through that, good job..."

"It's okay..."

"We're proud of you... Tomura is very proud..."

"Yes... Sensei is also very proud..."

Their voices disappeared down the hallway, bouncing off of the walls and disappearing into the still darkness.

Izuku sniffed and stopped crying. The darkness was overwhelming. But suddenly, he heard a noise.

The bars creaked. There was the sound of someone turning a key in a lock, and in walked Tomura Shigaraki himself: in his usual attire that consisted of a hoodie and baggy sweatpants.

"My little toy," he said, shutting the door carefully while holding a candle.

"How was it?" he asked.

"It- it was painful," Izuku admitted. He could open up to Tomura. Tomura was okay. Tomura was different. He wasn't evil like the rest of them. His words were true.

"My poor toy," he whispered, setting the candle on the floor and cradling Izuku in his arms. Izuku stared at the gloves awning his hands, knowing that death was beneath them.

"It's okay, I won't take them off," Tomura assured him. Izuku relaxed. If Tomura said he wouldn't, he wouldn't.

Tomura pressed the button on Izuku's back, removing the wind from his back.

Izuku winced a little and hugged the wind to his chest. Slowly, he fell asleep.

﹌﹌﹌
Izuku awoke in a strange position. Shackles bound his wrists and ankles tightly to the cold concrete wall. He didn't resist: he knew where that got him, and it wasn't a good place.

Tomura was standing before him, gloves off and face coated with malice. He stepped towards him.

"Don't worry," Tomura said, voice raspy and villainous. "It won't hurt."

And Izuku believed him. Because Tomura would never lie. Tomura wouldn't lie to him. Tomura wouldn't hurt him.

But little did Izuku know...

That Tomura didn't care, just like them. Tomura's words were just as empty as theirs. At least they had a reason for what they did, Izuku thought. They did it for research. Tomura just wanted to hurt him.

But he said it wouldn't hurt.

So it didn't.

﹌﹌﹌
EEEEEEE

First chapter! What do you think?! It wasn't as hard as the others because this idea came to my head as I was writing The Puppeteer.

The description sucks, I know, but like, I tried. Sorry for any inconvenience (Did I spell that right?).

Bye bye!

930 words.