[DISCONTINUED] reaper | todoroki shouto

1 | HER

A goddess like her was someone that one would never foresee. A goddess born from the ashes of her own blood mended with the dead as the once diamond mind shattered into immortal, immortality she possessed for the limited fate until the world ends—until the goddess of death filled with wrath could finally truly be death herself.

Fallen angels everywhere. She could smell them, see them from the depths of varying tones of shadows that are equivalent to the lost souls wandering the world—a world of false gods.

Gods hidden behind selfishness and wickedness.

False gods guide the fallen angels to their justified destiny. A destiny one may think anyone can achieve alone with tremendous power in which speaks itself for their greed—and the goddess of death despised it.

She despised those who bow to the false gods—those who gave saints false hope, leading to a path of corruption. Fallen angels that followed and roamed the umbrae, she was the one who had to cast them away with her blinding presence that feared many—so much that even the fallen would redeem.

That, perhaps, was her fate—the fate she would soon fulfil with her wishes of revenge.

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A city that never sleeps and a city that never wakes was a perfect battlefield for the goddess of death.

The vicinity of street crowds and vehicles was enough to tune out the vindictive bloodshed in a perpetual alley of the dark, bullets cracking the concrete walls before the alley ends the dispute with the sharp sound of a blade. The vicinity of the morning taciturnity was enough to bury the crying wolf who later would be found by a guardian, the centric heroes of the district trailing the prints of a predator.

Right in the dark alley, blocks away from the main streets of the city, there came a man crippled with fear, confusion, impending death as he clung his entire body against the wall, a gaze that was once malicious turned horrified as they darted at the walls splotched in crimson caused by a thin line right below chins and above collarbones. There was no wind but he felt one trembling his soul that was about to be taken away by the tip of the blade pressed against his throat, slowly dragging his gaze from the bridge of the blade to the living form of death herself.

"I'm not gonna ask again."

A strangled gasp escaped his lips when the blade pressed further into his skin, the thread slowly snipping.

"I-I swear! I don't know! I'm just a lower rank in the organization a-and I don't have that kind of information! Only the executives, associates o-or even the right-hand knows where they are! P-Please, don't kill me... I'm telling you the truth..."

He choked out a breath—out of relief—when the blade retracted, the woman turning the other way, taking it as a sign that he was safe, he was alive.

But he's wrong.

With a sharp turn, the blade sliced across the air and his sensitive skin, crimson splattering the wall behind him and the black cloth wrapped around her nose and lips, the long shimmering blade covered with coats of evil. She didn't linger long enough to scan the cause of her actions, turning around as she wiped off the blood on her katana with a rag on the dumpster, sliding it back into the holster.

Once she stepped into the streetlights, she began making her way home, the city oblivious to the hidden bloodshed.

Miya Keita prefers to think she was doing what was right when it's wrong or what was good when it's bad. Every vigilante had the same thinking but perhaps for her, she was a little far from average. Some hid in the shadows to catch their prey while some fight through the shadows for justice. But for Miya, the life she led was only a promise.

A promise she needed to fulfil and by that, she wouldn't want it to be broken, especially when time is finding her.

Death is death. She's seen it. Maybe a little too much.

She had taken the souls of crippling humanity, perhaps it's because corruption has been hiding for far too long—too long for the hero-centric world to find them until she does. Humanity has evolved into both great and dangerous things, both potential and impending threat waiting to be unveiled to the world. Miya was focused on one side and only one—the evil within the shadows lurking in the corners, the evil within evil.

That's the only force that was driving her to her goal—to find the missing puzzles of the death of her mother and younger sister. And once she has everything she needed, she'll fulfil her promise in the name of vengeance.

That's the only reason why she stayed.

"Ah, good evening, Miya." Her neighbour who lived next door on the fourth floor of the apartment, greeted her with a wrinkled smile, watering the plants by the veranda at the end of the hall.

"Evening," Miya mumbled, nodding at the elder woman before she fished out the keys to her flat, entering before she locked the door behind her, tossing the keys at the couch in the small living room.

The lights were dimmed—not too bright, not too dark—but the eminent part of the room was the spot where a table topped with a laptop that was still in condition adorned the wall in front of the couch, followed by a decent television at the side by the window just for the sake of the news awakening every day. The kitchen was just beside the living room, small enough for a lone person to live in. In fact, the apartment was spacious enough for someone like her to live in.

She has a bedroom but she doesn't use it much even when the bed is comfortable. Even when it could benefit a lot for her health these days from over-working just to find the truth. No matter what, even if it were a normal day, she still clung herself to the couch even after hours of analysing the evidence latched in her brain.

Speaking of which, she plopped on the couch after taking off her leather hoodie still smeared with the remaining blood but she decided to wash it off later anyway. The katana she had was hidden in her jacket, just so to avoid suspicions from an innocent old lady relishing her life. Her gaze was already fixated on the wall in front of her, newspapers, documents, photos and random papers all pinned on top of each other while the most prominent of evidence stood out by attaching the strings of crimson itself.

Executives and associates.

She looked for documents and newspapers that included the faces of law and science, the ones that appeared in the media for their 'devotion' to the society's future.

In the end, there were only three articles that stood out—a scientist who claimed to be missing, a lawyer's invitation to a conference and the mayor conducting a campaign for election.

Miya scoffed at the printed faces, disgusted at the image of the world steered by the hands of false leaders. She was starting to get used to these people being just the 'authorities', but when answers are getting closer, her job was getting harder by the day. To infiltrate a place layered by security was one problem. Sure, she could lure her targets out in the open and exposed until they're in the perfect spot for her to make her move at the sound of her blade, but anything could go wrong in the midst of daylight.

She was the goddess of death, and death works best when the shadows kill the lights.

She felt her throat itching for wrath, vengeance, answers. She got up to walk to the fridge, grabbing a cold beer. There were other variations she had stored but this time, she just needed the taste of tranquillity even when it's sweet venom. The taste of desperation saved for the next time.

As she drank, all that was in her mind was the gears working to lay out her plan and by the time she finished one, she grabbed another bottle, taking one of the articles from the coffee table.

She'll start with the lawyer.

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