Villainous [Hitoshi Shinso X Reader]

[Prologue]: Save Me

"Tell me..." I drawled.
The tip of the blade balanced precariously in my hand glinted against the man's tense jaw.
He gulped, Adam's apple bobbing indignantly. "Listen, bitch—"
My eyes flashed.
Suddenly, he sucked in a sharp breath as the cool metal kissed his skin. I watched, intrigued, as a bubble of crimson swelled up in the hollow of his pale throat.
"Now, that's not very nice." I pouted. "So, how about you listen. Tell me what you told the heroes," the knife slowly dragged down to his collarbone. "Or I'll cut your pretty little chest open and rip your heart right out of the cage of bones it's trapped in."
The traitor sneered. "How poetic."
"I'll only say it once more." I hissed, voice dangerously low. "Tell me."
The man, Kiro Hamada, stared back at me, eyes unwavering. "You'll find out in a minute."
"What do you—?"
Before the words could even fall from my lips, the walls were bursting in around me, shattering inwards in a terrifying cacophony.
An unholy shriek filled the once desolate room as Pro Heroes came flooding in to restrain me and my head whipped around to lock eyes with Kiro.
"I'm gonna kill you!" I roared.
     Instantly, my hands shot out and wrapped about the large man's throat. My knife had escaped from my grasp at some point during the commotion, clattering to the ground with a resounding ring, and I hadn't had the mind to retrieve it before attacking.
     There was no time.
     He responded with an involuntary shout of surprise, clawing at the wooden chair he was tied to that rendered him unable to reach me or fight back in any way.
     Father had ordered me to dispose of this nuisance in a timely manner. I glanced at the clock that was now lying broken on the floor at my feet where it had fallen from the wall beside me. 9:00pm. On the dot. I was already running late.
     "Dammit all." I muttered, jaw clenching in foreboding.
     The familiar prickle of tears began to form behind my eyes, clogging my throat and blurring my senses into a discombobulated mess.
     I knew the consequences of not following Father's orders. I knew them very well...
     My hands clamped down tighter.
     Failure wasn't an option. A luxury I didn't have.
     Kiro continued to wheeze and gasp beneath me, face turning blue due to the lack of oxygen; yet the heroes remained still, rooted in place by their own shock. It was that moment of hesitation that would be their downfall.
     "One final squeeze and you'll be done for—"
A loud bang erupted throughout the room. Immediately following in the wake of my ever loving sentiment was a shift in the atmosphere that was so drastic and deadly that I momentarily paused in my internal ravings.
The silence that settled over the room was deafening, nothing but the sound of my racing heartbeat pounding in my ears.
"I AM HERE!" The new presence bellowed.
I froze, every muscle in my body tensing and my blood abruptly ran cold in my veins.
My father had told me the stories. Stories of an all powerful hero that was kind, unbeatable, number one. The symbol of peace.
A fraud. I thought maliciously. But he's the only person who holds even a flicker of a flame to Father's power...
All Might.
"Ah, Kiro! I see you've gotten yourself into quite a pickle there. Shall I assist you?"
My mind blanked. There was nothing left in me aside from the raw, unadulterated need to survive. My fight or flight instinct was kicking into full gear and it was all I could do to remain conscious.
     I have to escape.
     Finishing the job I was set out to do was now the farthest thing from my mind as my hands slipped from Kiro's throat to leave him coughing and spluttering for air. The pathetic sounds were distant and distorted in my ears and I could no longer see him, hunched in his chair with spasms wracking his entire frame.
     All I saw was red.
Stomping hard on the handle of my fallen blade splayed carelessly at my feet, I began to turn, catching the handle with practiced precision as it was sent flying into the air. I whirled on my heel, bringing my arm around in a vicious, slashing arc with the intended target in my sights. My enemy's vital weak spot—the temple.
My knife was perfectly aligned, prepared to strike the soft flesh at the side of All Might's head—
     I was cut just short of following through.
Movement became abruptly difficult as my limbs were suddenly tangled, ensnared in thick straps of taught fabric that restrained me where I stood.
I thrashed, panic slowly rising in my chest. Teeth clashing together, I clenched my fists and growled like a wild animal. "Let me go!"
"You're just a child." A gruff, monotone voice piped in.
Confusion briefly clouded my mind as I registered his tone. It could've been mistaken for concern had I been anyone else, but it was a thought that I quickly dismissed. I knew better.
Heroes didn't care about me, they didn't care about anyone. No one but themselves and the pedestals they were placed upon built atop falsehoods and broken dreams.
     I despised them.
"How old are you?" The man attached to the voice inquired.
I spat towards the direction in which his voice was emanating. "Like I'd ever dignify you with a response." I said.
"Isn't that what you're doing?" He took a step forward out of the shadows.
     I huffed slightly at his quick wit, but otherwise remained silent.
What appeared before me was a tall, scruffy man with long, black hair that appeared unkempt and rarely ever washed. It was defying gravity as it drifted off of his shoulders and instead floated above his head.
     I tried to veil my curiosity, but I couldn't deny the interest he had peaked within me with his odd looks.
     Not once had I ever seen a hero in person. On the news, I had seen countless heroes fighting villains and saving civilians from the turmoil that always ensued when a villain was around, but they always looked so surreal. So powerful, so polished, so perfect.
     It was pitiful, my father always said.
     The man presenting himself to me now, on the other hand, was not what I had expected a Pro to look like up close and personal.
     I noted some stubble along his chin, the agitated set of his jaw as if he were just bored of life in general, and the way his eyes were shielded by a yellow mask. However, as he continued to move forward, he lifted it to settle against his head instead. By doing so, he revealed his tired eyes, red and irritated, the final piece of the puzzle that had the identity of this strange-looking man clicking together in my mind.
Eraserhead.
     He remained unblinking as he kept his steady eyes trained on my own and I registered his actions immediately. He was withholding my quirk from me, disabling my ability to seek aid from the Underworld.
     As I began plotting ways to regain the connection I had to the souls of the dead that the hero had unwittingly severed—there was no way Kiro knew enough about my quirk to tell them what it was—Eraserhead spoke up again.
"You barely look five..."
"I'm seven!" I shrilled and instantly regretted it.
Eraserhead smirked smugly as my eyes simultaneously widened in betrayal. "You tricked me." I glowered.
     His smirk faltered into a grim, serious line. "You don't have to do this. Your father isn't here anymore, he can't hurt you, (Y/N)."
I reeled at the sound of my own name.
     He knew. They all knew. But how much?
     That damned traitor.
Frustration was building up inside of me, my emotions becoming unbearable as the sinking realization that I couldn't fight my way out of this settled into the pit of my stomach like a rock.
     Tears welled up in my eyes before I could even begin to comprehend what was happening, let alone think to stop them. Before I knew it, they were falling, spilling over unabashedly onto my cheeks.
     There was no sound, no change in expression. Just a lifeless mask I had placed upon my face with a steady stream of tears tracking down from my hollow eyes.
"You don't understand." I shook my head slowly. "You don't know anything."
"I know more than you think." He took another step forward. "Kiro—"
"Don't speak the name of that traitor!" I wailed. "Father trusted him! I trusted him! HE WAS SUPPOSED TO KEEP ME SAFE!"
     There was a pause, a brief beat of silence after my outburst.
"Then I'd say he's been successful so far."
Eraserhead remained undeterred by the heavy tension in the room and I found myself wondering if he was so inept at picking up on social cues that he couldn't sense it or if he was simply choosing to ignore it.
"After all, we're here now and we're going to protect you. We won't let anything happen to you ever again." Eraserhead said finally. He lowered his voice, speaking in a strangely gentle manner that I was not accustomed to. "You'll never have to worry about your father ever again."
My own emotionless facade softened just a fraction, but it was enough for the man before me to notice.
     "What do you say? Will you leave the life of villainy behind you and come with us?"
     There was a strange sensation building in my chest. A light, fluttery feeling that made me feel like I was going to burst. I gasped.
     This was what hope felt like.
     However, the nagging voice in the back of my mind refrained me from allowing it to grow. I had to snuff it out quickly, his offer was simply too good to be true. Too many flaws and uncertainties.
     "But my crimes—"
     "We'll find a way for you to repent for what you've done, young (Y/N). Your actions may have been your own, but you are only a child. We have a witness," the big man by the name of All Might nodded in the direction of Kiro slumped in his chair, "who can testify to the fact that you were not acting of your own volition. Your father is the villain here, (Y/N), not you. You did what was necessary for you to survive."
     At the Pro Hero's words, my face contorted, the mask finally breaking, and I allowed myself to sob.
     No one had ever regarded me as anything more than a villain in my entire life. So why? Why now was this happening? By heroes no less! They were supposed to be corrupt, selfish, driven by greed and status. They weren't supposed to be so kind and forgiving...
     I had done nothing to deserve their faith.
     With my mind in shambles and my whole world turned upside down, I continued to sob. Everything I had ever known had just been abruptly thrown into question and I had no idea how to handle that.
     Was everything I knew to be true a lie? Were the things I've been taught to believe in for the entirety of my life somehow twisted?
     I choked.
     Was Father wrong?
     A strangled whimpering sound echoed in my ears and I was vaguely aware that I, myself, was the one who had made it. My mind was in an uproar. Complete chaos as my entire life was uprooted and shattered before my very eyes.
     I was too confused. Too upset and betrayed to even begin processing the reality of things even as I felt them registering in the deepest parts of my very soul. Something inside of me knew. It always knew.
     Father was wrong.
     Kiro suddenly jolted back to life, eyes gleaming with a vengeance. "'Not a villain,' my ass! She tried to kill me. Why would I ever testify for this brat—?"
     But I never got the chance to find out what would've happened.
     As Kiro sputtered profanities, a soft whoosh sounded directly behind me where a purple ripple had taken form in the suffocatingly dank room.
     Instead of readily confessing to my sins—shouting to the world at the top of my lungs that I didn't want to be a villain—and being granted the forgiveness I so desperately craved, I felt a large hand slither around my neck to cup my throat.
     The hand squeezed just enough to send a very clear message: don't say a word.
     Just as suddenly, another strong hand clasped firmly onto my shoulder, effectively halting any attempts I may have made to run. Eraserhead's restraints were suddenly gone, reduced to nothing but ash by a powerful quirk.
     Sheer terror seized me in its clutches like a vice and my eyes widened. I looked to Eraserhead pleadingly. Save me. 
     But it was too late.
Maniacal laughter echoed around the small, collapsed room. "Ha! Serves you right, you little bitch. After all I've done to help you, you repay me by trying to strangle me." Kiro spat. "Go to hell."
     "Mr. Hamada!" The Pro Hero, Gang Orca, reprimanded.
     Someone laughed wryly from the depths of the portal that was swiftly swallowing me up into the void. A mocking sort of sound that foretold what was going to happen next.
     Kiro hadn't helped me at all.
     He had condemned me, sealed the cruel fate I had been destined for at birth.
     "I'm already there," I sighed, smiling painfully through the tears that were leaking from my closed eyes. "And I'm the queen."
     With those final words, the darkness consumed me. The last flicker of fleeting hope I allowed myself to have faded away like a ghostly apparition along with the image of the Pro Heroes surging forward to grab me before everything disappeared...
Please, I begged wordlessly in despair. Save me.