The Flap of a Butterfly's Wings

Never Going Away

Izuku wakes up being dragged out of his cell.

Not a very pleasant thing to wake up to, but who is he to complain? Izuku starts to panic when he realizes he can't move. He glances up behind him to see Keres is the one dragging him which means he probably used his paralysis quirk on him. Keres is holding him where he got the cut from yesterday's battle, and it stings. He'd be lucky if it doesn't get infected, if it isn't already.

"Where are you taking me?" It's hard to maintain his monotone facade when Izuku knows- knows, that whatever this is, isn't going to be good.

Keres doesn't answer. Doesn't even glance at him. The man drags him up stairs, which isn't fun and he will probably have bruises on his back later. They arrive at a door and Izuku can finally feel his limbs again. Keres lets go of him; making Izuku's head thud against the cold cement ground. Hato quickly gets up only to be pushed inside the room.

The room is bigger than expected, and much, much more fancier. By fancier he means that there's just so much stuff cramped in this room that besides decoration, it's completely useless.

(Except for the select few weapons on the walls. Izuku makes a mental note to remember that there are weapons in here. It might be useful in the far future.)

In the far middle of the room, he sees a man sitting at his desk (a desk that Izuku's hand twitches in the need to clean). The man is big and looks to be mid sixties with graying blond hair that goes to his shoulders and a long beard as well. His charcoal eyes aren't empty like Keres's, but replete with evil and the intent to hurt.  Standing next to the man is a person with electric short blue hair, a black, scruffy beard, and has their face caked with makeup.

The man smiles- it almost looks heartwarming in a wicked sort of way. "Ah, number eighty-eighty. You must be wondering why you are here." Each word that leaves the man's mouth sends cold shivers down Izuku's spine. He tenses his shoulder in attempt to guard himself. "Well you see, you have impressed us with the skills you have shown." The person that stood next to him began to move to a fireplace and picked up a metal brander with the number eighty-eight on it.

Izuku tried to back away, but Keres must've activated his quirk again, because all of a sudden he's on the ground with his cheek throbbing from the impact.

He see's the blue haired person come closer with a smirk as Izuku fails to repress his sob. "And you're like- what?! Six, five?! You're a prize to the arena, eighty-eight. And you know what we like to do with our prizes?" The electric bluenette slowly lifts his shirt until his whole back is showing. Izuku tries to move, tries so hard, but he can't.

"We brand them."

And then Izuku's right shoulder blade explodes with pain. It's like his skin is melting; which in a way, it is. Midoryia lets out a silent scream at the sheer pain flowing through his body. He hasn't felt pain like this in such a long time; it's agonizing. He smells his own flesh burning. Izuku almost chokes on his own bile at the smell, at the pain.

It only makes his throat burn as well.

Finally, they release the brander off of his skin and walk back to stand next to the desk. Izuku feels himself loosing consciousness as the pain had drained all of his existing energy leaving him exhausted.

"Put him back in his cell."

"Yes, boss."

He had heard it. He had heard Keres call this man 'boss'. That means this is the man who controls the arena. The man Izuku needs to defeat.