A week. A week since Izuku, my little brother, had bolted. A week of sleepless nights, fueled by lukewarm coffee and a gnawing anxiety that settled deep in my bones. He was out there, somewhere, charging headfirst into danger like the naive little hero he always dreamed of being. Except, he was alone. Unprepared. And with One For All pulsing within him, a beacon for every villain with a vendetta against All Might.
I ran a hand through my perpetually messy white hair, the freckles scattered across my face practically vibrating with stress. Damn it, I should have seen this coming. Should have been prepared.
"This is worse than I thought," I muttered, the words echoing in the sterile silence of my apartment. He wasn't eating, wasn't sleeping, wasn't taking care of himself. I could feel it, a dull ache resonating with the frantic energy radiating off of him.
Three weeks. Three more weeks until the war. A war that the hero course, including Izuku, would be thrown into, blindfolded and gagged. A war against a phantom enemy, villains we knew nothing about. It was a clusterfuck of epic proportions, and I was stuck playing a damn waiting game.
With a frustrated groan, I threw on a casual attire. I needed to get out, needed to talk. Tristian, my therapist, was the only one I could trust to hear this mess without trying to slap a Band-Aid solution on it.
Tristian's office was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood and unspoken anxieties. I poured out my worries about Izuku, about the impending war and the oblivious heroes marching towards it. He listened, as always, with a calm, steady presence. Gave advice, even, but when I confessed that I wouldn't be on the front lines with the heroes, but dealing with more on the side, a strange look crossed his face. A shadow of conflict, like he knew something he wasn't supposed to. Which was weird coming from him.
Tristian's Quirk, future sight, was his greatest strength and my greatest source of trust. He could see paths, possibilities, probabilities. He always knew what to say to steer me in the right direction. But not this time.
"Just tell me what it is," I said, my voice hardening. My patience, already stretched thin, snapped.
He sighed, a heavy, burdened sound. "Someone is going to suffer a major loss, Anos… sacrifices will be… made. I just hope you know that."
Sacrifices. It sounded like a fancy way of saying death.
I fell silent. If I was worried before, I was petrified now. This wasn't a war, a battle. This was a slaughter, a meticulously planned culling. I nodded curtly, ignoring the icy dread that settled in my stomach. "Thank you, Tristian."
I practically bolted from his office, needing air, needing… something. I found Diamond in the park, lounging on a bench, her bright blue lightning bolt streak a stark contrast to the green surroundings. Her eyes, sharp and perceptive, immediately zeroed in on my turmoil.
"So, what's wrong?" she asked softly, brushing a stray strand of white hair from my forehead.
"This is worse than war, Diamond… this is hell," I muttered, collapsing beside her.
She frowned, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "I don't understand."
"Someone is going to lose, and bad. Someone has to die, Diamond," I finally admitted, the words feeling like shards of glass in my throat.
The levity vanished from her face, replaced by a grim understanding. She nodded slowly. "You're right…" she sighed. "We're walking into a bloodbath, aren't we?"
We sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of impending doom pressing down on us.
"Anos…" Diamond began, her voice hesitant. "I need to tell you something."
"Hm? What is it?" I looked at her, my senses on high alert.
"I-" she was cut off by an earth-shattering crash, the sound ripping through the peaceful park like a discordant chord.
Villain attacks.
In broad daylight.
What the fuck?
Without a word, Diamond and I sprung into action.