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YUUTO ~ PROLOGUE
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In a world full of colours and brightness he had every right to be a normal child. A lovely child. Smiling with kids, having fun playing a simple game of "I Spy." He had every right to grow up as a normal child. For his mother, for his father, for his buddy. However, not everything meant he would be an ordinary boy.
He knew, he knew from the start of young age of four. He was different. He was useless to the people around him. The boy from the age of four understood that not all men are created equal, he probably spends nights crying, tearing up for a dream his mother apologizes for so many times. That was if he was a normal boy.
His heart was numb, saddened? Yes, a hundred precent but he didn't cry. He didn't make any noises; his brain was functioning as some sort of shield to the sudden cruelty of the world. Protecting the innocence that claims whatever is left inside of a certain shell. His eyes dulling, agitated till the day that brain made him into something far from innocent.
Far from the boy he used to call himself. Over thousands of on looking eyes watched as another joined their ranks, watch as the pure white stained the red into wide range of red to white hues. It was insanely beautiful to the catching eye as another fell to a field of raging fires.
The boy woke up from his fall, people were surrounding him, faded whisps of black withered as white eyes watch what was behind the boy. When he turned around two figures, one white another red looked as they were dancing. A step to the left, a forward step to the top, then a right and finally a step back down.
A repeating mantra that enraptures what moths lied around watching the beauty of life. The beauty of the Beast. The boy stared at it, at the dances that drawing him to a moth and a flame, it was like a tanzanite! The body reflected from the curious baby's eyes, emerald in shade as the mop of green and black watch it tilled the end.
It was unknown for how long he watched the dance evolve after each step; he was mesmerized. Then all of a sudden, the spot light was given onto him, entrusted into him. It was foul. It was cruel to give a kid something he couldn't have. Something to fit in as each second was passing.
He was crying because the two silhouettes that were giving him the spotlight were very much waking him down a path, he never knew he could make. A path dyed in red. It wasn't something a hero should do. A hero saved people. A hero helped people.
Not – Not murder them in cold blood as their corpses began to stack as everything was dying his hand red. He was just a child! He was sobbing; he didn't want this. He didn't want to know what he would become as his age began to grow but the more, he did – the more the young boy did it – it started to have some fun in it.
It was disgusting – twisted – feeling that began to grow, he watched as his young mind changed and sharpened itself to the fullest potential. To the fullest liability that mankind has ever seen! Well, at least in Japan. He had a long way before he could strike fear into the hearts around the world.
However, that all changed as the young boy met a young blonde, perhaps his age? He was older now maybe – twelve? Eleven? Ten? He couldn't recognize his own age after screwing himself over but it was fine! It was a hundred percent fine! But the young boy his age was telling another story.
He didn't know what was enticing about him? Maybe it was his blue eyes? Blonde hair that he swore was familiar? Or the worried expression he saw on a woman's face before watching her fade in background? What was it about this boy?
And then it clicked.
That boy wanted to be a hero.
He didn't mind heroes, heck, he enjoyed playing with them whenever he saw one before saying goodbye. It was always sad how the next day they never showed up after his invitation but eh. The boy wanted to be a hero, and the more he thought about it, the more he remembered he was once in his shoes.
Well, till he became who he was. A young boy who lost his mind at such a young age and who wore his hands in a very dead red that was it undeniable that his passion of making people fear, was drawing them insane. Like how he was insane before everything went bad in his life. It made him angry the more he thought about it.
How the world took the colour white and gave it another colour that didn't even correspond to the person! Like how one who has the bright and sunny yellow turned muted black or how a purple lavender was pushed to become a society outcast turned from bright lavender to muted by each day. It was disgusting.
It was just too cruel.
But that's why he's here! That's why his hands – his clothing always somehow has red in it. People don't deserve mercy; people didn't deserve the world in their hands; a silver platter he would gladly shatter. That's why he wasn't afraid anymore. That's why he wasn't okay anymore. His brain was never okay.
It was teared apart from morality and sanity. Something he grew used to, and nurtured to kill the strongest of people. He enjoyed the hunt; he enjoyed the kill. It was amazing how one second someone was watching him being pushed down and another begging for mercy only seconds after their conscious lost their faith.
He was no ordinary boy; he knew that very loud and clear. He was just special. A unique colour that shined in the darkest of nights and dyed the world in a pretty array till the day he died. He was Midoriya Izuku. A boy who knew nothing about kindness and forgiveness.
A boy who wouldn't give a crap about people, and kills without hesitation. He enjoyed it even! People would at him in fear. Look at him in despair the moment they saw the hanafuda earrings and the scythe he carries along the way. People knew better to go around and saying his name, the name he prides himself as someone worth more than the two colours he saw every day.
He was an unstoppable force. A heart hardened by the desperation of survival. It was for his own good but the brain failed to function that to ensure survival he lost his ways of a normal life. He lost how to be the young boy that wanted nothing but to be a hero for everybody. A smile on his face that showed to the damn that he was here.
And everything would be just fine.
He still smiles! Rest assure he does feel things, however, perhaps, the mishap changed that smile into a wicked, sinister rows of teeth into a feast he would dine in as soon as the poppy petals bloomed from the body out. He was not same. Midoriya Izuku was not the same boy that used to love heroes. He was but a boy in an empty dyed shell...
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