Hi everyone!

So I've been taken by the BNHA whirlwind and had to start this little thing. I'm stuck on my other WIPs and thought I might as well be writing SOMETHING.

This is a prologue and has a little bit of a different vibe from the rest of the story. SQ starts off pretty dark, with one-sided Tomura/OC, eventually turning into a hurt/comfort romance with Toshinori/OC/Shouta. Shigaraki will continue to play a large part of the story even during the romance, so don't forget about him!

This also has a few fix-it features, because the manga/anime isn't nearly far enough along to predict any kind of ending, so I'll be creating one myself. I have no idea how long this is going to be, but probably no more than 50-60k words. I DO have other stories to work on. Still, I'm really inspired for this one and plan to make it my main focus until inspiration for my other stories comes along.

I know the summary is vague, but it's all explained in this prologue. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this story, and don't forget to follow, fave, and review if you like it!

Reviews are love. 3

P.S. Trigger warnings apply to this chapter. Please be careful if you don't like graphic dark content.

I know too much about this world.

I know to avoid U.A. I know to never wander into the Kamino Ward unless it's unavoidable, and even then, I know never to walk down the street with the Mahjong bar front. I know to keep a low profile. I know to pretend I'm quirkless. I know that I can only spar with Kato-sensei, and only he can teach me the offensive skills I need to defend myself. I can never express myself with physical force. I can't let anyone too close, can't have any friends; how do I know if they're real or not?

This world is one I know as fictional: Boku no Hero Academia. People have quirks here, becoming a superhero is now considered an optimal career, and the abnormal is now accepted as normal.

I come from a place where heroism is in the little things: giving a homeless person a meal, coming to others' defense against prejudice, even just a kind word to make someone smile. People still fight, still hurt, still kill, because that's how humans are.

I've found that the greater the good, the worse the bad.

Here, villains—and yes, they are literally called villains—can raze a whole city if a hero of equal or greater power doesn't come along to save the day. Rescue missions are more successful, but more people die in outright attacks.

The people here idolize heroes like All Might and Endeavor, but I'm not sure if any more lives are saved in the long run than in my world.

Am I making it sound like I don't like this world very much? That's good. I don't.

Sure, I can speak the language, fit in like I need to because my appearance had changed when I ended up here, even magically have the papers and ID I need to be considered a citizen. I had adopted a new name. And I'm relatively unaffected by what happens in this world, because I heal so quickly I am incapable of dying. It means I have a monstrous appetite—can't heal with nothing to fuel it—but other than starvation, nothing can kill me.

It means that I don't have to worry about physical injury. It means that I can pass as an ordinary civilian, keep my head down, and let events play out as they're supposed to. Before I ended up here, I had just finished a few volumes ahead of the anime and discovered the manga was very far ahead, but I have no intention of interfering. Let it play out; it's a shounen manga world. Izuku will, eventually, save the day, become the new Symbol of Peace, and all will be well.

And I'll still be working at the vintage game shop two blocks from my apartment in Musutafu. It's not the ideal place to be for avoiding the incidents that are to come, but it's also the cheapest area where I can find decent housing with enough space to make me feel vaguely at home. Where I had lived before, I could afford a 2300 square foot house. Now, I have to make do with about six hundred, and even though I obviously don't have as much furniture as I had before, it's still cramped compared to what I'm used to.

I like my space. I'm used to wide open places, sprawling roads and the necessity of a car. The trains are cramped and make me uncomfortable; all those people closely packed together cause near-claustrophobia. Japan is not my ideal country, small and overpopulated and way too many quirks to be comfortable with.

But work, funnily enough, is something I enjoy. Yeah, it's retail, but the polite culture of Japan eliminates rude customers for the most part, even if my place in the retail industry is even more subservient than in America. It's fine; I'll trade rude customers for a humble attitude any day.

And that's where I'm headed today: Furui Gēmu. Literally translated: Old Games. Not the most imaginative title, but it's also the most accurate.

I walk into the shop with my uniform already on and, with a wave to my boss, immediately start taking inventory. With the games as rare as they are, it's important that we always know what's in stock to avoid unhappy customers. There are also a few orders that we have to fill, but Awakasa usually delivers those. When I can, I prefer to stay inside the shop. Less danger that way, and there's no hiding my quirk if I get seriously injured.

"We sold the last original Mortal Kombat," I inform Daichi, our resident games expert. "Should I put out an ad for more?"

Daichi glances at me from where he's typing on the only computer we have, an old thing that's still running like a champ. It won't last forever, but it's still got a few years left in it.

"Probably a good idea," he replies in his soft voice. His quirk involves technology, though I'm not sure about the exact details. All I know is that he's our IT, game and console tester, and basically runs any device that keeps the store going. I have a suspicion that he's why we've never had to replace the computer. "I'll set up one for eBay and get you the ad. We can set it up for a deal."

"Yeah," I reply. "Last Saturday we still had seven in stock. Seems to be popular these days."

At that moment, our boss walks in. Takamura-san is the owner of the shop, a slightly overweight man with a balding head that he makes no effort to hide. He's happily married with two children and doing well for himself, and while he's usually easygoing and chill, when he gets mad, he gets mad.

"Zen," he says, and I turn my head. "Awakasa's out with the flu. I'll need you to do deliveries today—I can run the shop while you're out."

I've done deliveries before, and they're my least favorite part of the job, but Takamura-san's word is law. I nod my head, plastering a smile on my face before I head over to check the list of packages. "Of course," I reply. "Do we have many?"

"Just a few," he replies. "Mondays are slow. But we have a customer who ordered a camouflage blue NeoGeo Pocket with Mega Man Battle & Fighters. He's a regular, so I want it done first."

I've learned a good deal about video games, not only from working at Old Games but from my past life. The NeoGeo Pocket in question is one of the hardest models to get, and while I don't know much about the Mega Man series due to lack of interest, I know that the vintage ones don't go for cheap.

"Sure thing, boss," I say.

"Good," Takamura-san says severely. "Get going now, before we get busy. The name's Shimu Ten. Hand-delivered and signature."

That's our highest protocal, and only used on extremely coveted games and consoles. Curious about this Shimu Ten's package, I go to the back to survey my load. His package is pretty small, easily fitting into my cupped hands. Checking the address, I notice it's in the Kamino Ward. It's early, though, and I don't think I have to worry about any villainous behavior. The biggest threat there wouldn't be acting out right now—I hadn't heard a word about the USJ incident (yet).

Not my problem.

Putting the rest of the deliveries in the official delivery bag, I put on my jacket for the brisk morning breeze and head out to the Kamino Ward. As harmless as I'm sure this is, I still feel my stomach twist in trepidation.

I stare in shock at the Mahjong Bar that the address on Shimu Ten's package has led me to. I double check, triple check the GPS on my cellphone. It says the same thing every time, but I had been desperately hoping to avoid this.

Shimu Ten. Obviously a fake name for Shimura Tenko. It's clever to use a dead man's name, but I wish I would have made the connection earlier. I'm not prepared for this at all. And I have to hand-deliver and get a signature.

Maybe Kurogiri will answer the door. He can't really hurt me. Shigaraki, though… well, I can't die, but that doesn't mean being injured doesn't hurt like hell.

I shake my head to snap out of it. It's not like either of them have any reason to hurt me in the first place. I'm delivering something important to him: he's a gamer, going so far as to delude himself about the nature of reality.

Do I have to get Shigaraki's signature? Or can someone else sign for him? Despite my position as an innocent delivery girl, I don't like this at all. I don't like anyone from the plot to see my face. I don't want to be recognized by any of them for any reason, even if it's someone like All Might.

Steadying my breath and putting on my best customer service face, I step up to the door and knock.

For a few long minutes, there's nothing. Maybe no one's home? Or everyone's asleep. Certainly I can't just leave the package at the door, but if they don't answer, it can be delivered another time when Awakasa is feeling better.

I knock one more time for posterity, just so I can truthfully say I tried. Takamura-san won't blame me if no one answers. I'm only following protocol.

And then I hear sluggish footsteps. My heart flies to my throat and I swallow nervously, clenching my hands to still their shaking. I put on a smile, fake as it is, and wait for the door to open.

It does, too soon. Heart pounding in my throat, it creaks open and a single red eye peers out.

"Delivery for Shimura—Shimu Ten." I stumble across the words in my fear and hope that he doesn't notice the slip. He seems awfully groggy—maybe he stayed out late villaining? Or played video games into the early morning.

"Where's Awakasa?" is the first thing he says. His voice is gravelly with sleep. Good, he missed the slip.

"He's out with the flu today," I tell him apologetically. I'm sorrier for myself than him. "Don't worry, he should be back at work in no time!" Cheerful. Stay cheerful. It hides the fear.

Shigaraki grunts. "Are you going to deliver the package or what?"

In my distraction, I had totally forgotten to take the package out of the bag. "I apologize for my unprofessionalism, sir," I say hurriedly, snatching up the package. Double-checking that it's the right one, I pull out the signature pad and hand it to him.

"Why do I have to sign?" he asks, starting to sound irritated when I don't immediately give him what he wants.

"For high-cost deliveries, a signature is required prior to delivery," I tell him, pushing my fear away to be the delivery woman that I am. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

I'm laying it on thick. Better to please him than offend him.

With a dry hand, he reaches for the attached pen, carefully not touching it with his pinky. He signs an illegible scribble, but it's enough. Ready for the interaction to be over with, I hand him the package. Again, he takes it with only three fingers and his thumb.

"I hope you enjoy your purchase!" I say. "Have a good day!"

I turn to leave, happy that it went so smoothly, before Shigaraki calls out, "What's your name, delivery girl?"

My first impulse is to lie. I'll never see him again. "Kanasatsu Hikari." It rolls off my tongue naturally.

He narrows his eyes keenly at me, and for a second I wonder if he has an unknown quirk that helps him detect lies. Then his eyes appraise me up and down. I can't tell the reason for it, but I'm more than ready to leave.

"Have a good day, Shimu-san," I call, and hop onto my scooter to get as far away from him as possible.

Tomura's not sure why this Kanasatsu Hikari has piqued his interest. Maybe it's the fear he could see hidden behind her falsely cheerful expression. He's never seen her face before, and there's no way she knows anything about him or his quirk. It could be because she was nervous to be out doing deliveries in the Kamino Ward, not the safest place for a girl to be wandering around, even in the early morning.

Something tells him that's not it.

But he puts her out of his mind until he's bored of his new system and wants to try out another game. The old games are better than the new ones, made easier to be appealing to more people. He likes the challenge, though, and except for a few continuations of his favorite series, he doesn't have any interest in modern games.

He finds a new game he wants. It's in stock at Old Games, and that's when he remembers Hikari. Tomura's curious enough that when he calls to put in the order, he asks for her to deliver it to him instead of Awakasa.

"Kanasatsu Hikari?" the man on the phone asks in confusion. "No one by that name works here."

"She quit?" he replies, suddenly and irrationally aggravated.

"No… no one by that name has ever worked here."

That's when he realizes that she gave him a false name, and now he knows that she has something to hide. Something to hide from him, and the fear makes sense. He's equal parts angry and curious, and he decides that he's going to track her down and they're going to have a little talk.

She knows something that made her fear him. He's pretty sure that she's going to have to be eliminated.

"Perhaps I got her name wrong," he says. He doesn't rat out her lie, he doesn't want her to be suspicious of him. Instead, he's going to trap her, and he doubts she's going to be leaving their encounter alive. "She's short, with green eyes and purple hair. She delivered my NeoGeo Pocket a few weeks ago."

"Oh!" the man laughs. "That's Zen Akito. She doesn't usually do deliveries. Is there a problem with Awakasa-san's behavior?"

"No." Awakasa is fine. "I want her to deliver to me again."

If the man thinks it's an odd request, he doesn't mention it. "Of course. We can have the item packaged and delivered by tomorrow."

"I'll pay extra for today."

The man hesitates. "Well, we usually do deliveries in the morning, but if you're willing to pay extra…"

"I am."

"We'll have it to you by the end of the day. Credit or debit?"

Once the transaction is done, Shigaraki smiles a grim smile, scratching at his neck feverishly as he thinks.

"Kurogiri," he calls.

"Yes, Shigaraki Tomura?" the warp portal replies.

"I need you to do something for me."

"Someone called for a delivery from someone named Kanasatsu Hikari," Daichi says reprovingly, "and when he described her, he described you."

I can't help the way the blood drains from my face. The only person who would know that name would be Shigaraki. Why is he asking after me?

After three weeks of no word or deliveries for him, I figured I had gotten off scot-free. I had been just another face in a crowd and there was nothing suspicious about me.

Had he actually noticed my slip up with his name? But then why wait three weeks to confront it, if he thought I might know his old identity?

"I don't know why he would have gotten my name so wrong," I tell him, straight-faced. "Did he give a reason why he wanted me to deliver to him?" Fishing, fishing, seeing if I needed to ditch this job and move to the other side of Japan.

"He didn't give a reason, just requested you. He wants a rush on his game, so if you could go get it delivered before we close, you'll get the rush fee."

Oh, a rush fee. That's tempting. I might be able to afford the adoption fee for a dog I'd been considering for a while. However, since the dog was a rarer breed for Japan to be found in an adoption center and a puppy, it was a considerably higher price than I could currently afford. Rush fees weren't cheap, and I was willing to take a little risk if it meant adopting Kaia before anyone else could.

"Sure," I say, too excited about getting my puppy even if it meant encountering Shigaraki again.

With much less fear this time, I approach the Mahjong bar and knock, package eagerly tucked under my arm. The shop closes at six, and the sun is on its descent, so I want to get back to the safety of home before anything dangerous comes out to play.

This time, the door opens almost immediately.

"Zen-san," says Shigaraki. There is no inflection in his voice.

"Nice to see you again, Shimu-san," I say cheerfully, not acknowledging the fact that he now knows my real name and has figured out I lied to him. "Here's your package. You don't need to sign this time."

I step forward to hand him the package; he hasn't stepped out far enough for me to reach him easily. The second I take that step, a black portal that I can only identify as Kurogiri forms and sucks me in.

"What the—" I hiss, and then am dropped into the middle of the infamous League of Villains base, or what it will become soon enough. I'm sent sprawling. "What the fuck!" I shout, tossing the package away from me and wishing I could tuck my knives into my sneakers without hurting myself at work. Scrambling to my feet, I put myself in a defensive position, but I'm not sure what to do when Kurogiri can warp me from anywhere he pleases.

"Zen Akito," Shigaraki says, entering the room. "I have some questions for you."

"Yeah?" I say angrily. "This is a really convincing way to get me to answer them."

He misses my sarcasm, though I don't know if it's intentionally or not. "I agree." When I remain standing, still in a position to ward him off, he says, "Sit, or I'll take one of those limbs off."

As if to demonstrate his point, as if I don't already know his quirk, he grips an empty glass on the counter and wraps all five fingers around it. It disintegrates into ash.

Unfortunately, I forget to show the fear that anyone else would when faced with such a dangerous quirk. He narrows his eyes at me.

"So you do know something."

"Nothing important," I say. "Nothing that I'm going to tell anyone else. I don't want to get involved in whatever you're planning, so you can let me go. I'm not a threat."

I'm surprised my voice stays so steady, because fear is coursing through my veins. However, there is the knowledge that he can't really kill me, only hurt me, and right now the thought of pain doesn't faze me. I'm more worried about how he noticed me, how I so easily revealed something. I thought that our encounter before had been harmless and it terrifies me to know it went so wrong.

Shigaraki starts scratching his neck, agitated. "Tell me what you know and maybe I'll consider it."

That's where I hesitate, but I eventually say, softly and as gentle as I can, "I can't do that. I don't want to get involved." And then, as if I can't control my mouth, "Please. I'm really not a threat to you. I just want to keep my head down and mind my own business."

This is not the answer Shigaraki wants to hear. Before I can even flinch, he lunges at me, tackling me to the floor, red eyes almost seeming to glow in his anger.

I don't feel any pain, though.

"See how I'm holding you without my pinkies touching you?" he growls. "The moment they touch, you're going to lose both arms, so I'd encourage you to tell me what I fucking want to know."

Oh, shit. This is really going to hurt.

Mute in my fear, I defiantly shake my head.

"I thought you wanted to keep your head down? Mind your own business? It's going to be hard to do that without any arms." He's taunting me, trying to threaten me into telling him what I—

But it turns out it's not an idle threat. Without warning, I feel both pinkies press down.

The pain starts immediately and I scream in agony. My flesh feels like it's burning away, healing back just quickly enough to keep my raw dermis exposed to disintegration but not reaching any further.

After a few moments and the damage doesn't spread beyond where he's touching me, he pulls back to survey his work. It takes just long enough for me to heal for him to see the skin knitting back together.

"A healing quirk?" he says darkly. "That's inconvenient." Then he leans forward, right in my face, eyes tracking the involuntary tears streaming down my face, my flushed cheeks and gasping mouth.

"I like that look on your face," he says suddenly, licking his dry, chapped lips. I can't help but shudder as his hot breath washes over my face, and a sudden feeling of dread pools in my stomach.

I still can't tell him anything.

Then, without warning, he presses down on my abdomen. The top of my uniform starts to turn to ash and soon my skin is exposed. Heaving with agony, I will my eyes to stay open so I can focus on anything but the pain.

It doesn't work.

Ash is pooling around my sides as the shirt fully disintegrates, leaving me topless except for my sports bra. He pushes harder, and the pain in unimaginable as he manages to touch my organs.

I shriek and cry and try to struggle, but my body is frozen in pain. Finally, after time interminable, he removes his hand from my stomach and everything knits back together.

He eyes his invisible handiwork. He hums in mild disapproval, and that's when Kurogiri interferes.

"Why isn't she dead?" he asks, peering over Shigaraki's shoulder curiously.

"Healing quirk," Shigaraki replies. "Take us somewhere a little more private."

I cringe, gasping and screaming as Shigaraki grips my wrists, not bothering to spare me the pain, and yanks me upwards. My knees buckle and I feel like I'm going to throw up. Kurogiri morphs, Shigaraki tosses me in before following, and I suddenly find myself on my back, sprawled over a bed.

As he mounts the bed, I scramble backwards. All rational thought has fled my mind. "Please," I beg, sobbing. "Please, no more."

"Alright," he says distractedly, but he keeps advancing. I curl up tighter and tighter, trying to shield myself from further pain. I don't believe him for a second.

"You're so pretty like this," he breathes, and my breath stutters to a halt as he yanks my arms away from my chest. His pinkies don't touch me, and I shudder in relief at the lack of pain before I notice that he's looking at my chest hungrily.

"No," I moan helplessly. This isn't happening, and in that second I decide screw the plot, screw everything. Whatever is putting that look on his face needs to stop. I'll tell him anything he wants. I don't even like Japan. It can crumble under his fist and I'll go somewhere safe. America. Australia. Europe. I'm not going to let this go any further. I should have told him from the get-go, but I hadn't realized just how much it would hurt.

"I'll tell you," I croak. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. Please, just let me go." His eyes flicker up to my face, curious. "Please, I won't—"

I notice too late that his gaze is on my mouth, not my eyes. I pull back immediately but he crushes his lips against my own.

His lips are dry, chapped, and rough. The sloppy kiss burns my mouth, scratching my sensitive skin. Revulsion ripples through me, but I don't dare struggle in case he decides to use his quirk again.

Then his tongue presses against my lips. I can't, I won't. I clench my jaw harder, twisting my head away.

"Come on, Akito-chan," he murmurs huskily. "Just one kiss. I'll let you go after."

I can't control my trembling, quick pants of fear escaping my mouth. He's probably lying, but I can't take the chance that he's not. I squeeze my eyes shut and turn to face him, and when his lips assault mine again, slick tongue forcing its way into my mouth, I try to pretend it's someone else. Someone I find attractive. That this is consensual.

I can't bring myself to reciprocate, though. Shigaraki doesn't seem to care.

And then he pulls away, a sticky string of saliva connecting our lips. The intense urge to gag hits me, but I don't. I don't want him to change his mind.

He draws my hands back together, still not hurting me but instead pinning me to the headboard, and then he starts placing hot, open-mouthed kisses against my throat. It revolts me.

"Y-you said you'd let me go," I whine, even though I had figured it was a lie from the start. I had to try.

"I lied," he confirms. He bites down, hard enough to break the skin. I cry out, but it heals the moment his mouth pulls away.

He glares at the unblemished skin. "Now that's annoying."

Crazed red eyes finally meet mine. I flinch away from them, from the manic glint and the wide, maliciously excited look on his face.

"Are you a virgin?" he asks.

Not in the past, but this body is. Hoping it'll dissuade him, I nod my head, adding on the plea, "Please, don't—don't do this."

"I am too," he says huskily, voice low and full of anticipation. "Let's share this together."

His hands release mine and touch my pants. It's not light enough to save my thighs from his quirk and I scream and writhe again, the pain unexpected. At my screams, he groans and presses his face between my breasts, mumbling so quietly I almost can't hear over my wailing, "You're going to scream so loud for me."

By the time my pants and underwear have disintegrated, I am nothing short of a mess. Sobbing, pleading incoherently, I struggle against him as he pulls my legs away from my body and spreads them around his hips.

He places a hand over my face and I freeze. "Move and I'll touch your face. It'll come back just as nice and pretty, so I don't care if I have to."

Heart pounding so hard, stomach twisting with nausea, I can barely breathe out of fear. I hear him unzip his pants, the rustle of cloth telling me he's undressing. I cry quietly, worried that any jostling movements will have him activate his quirk on me.

Then his hot, hard member is pressing against me, a little precum rubbing my slit. I gasp in horror, unable to control myself. "Please, not like this, not like this!"

"Shut up," he says irritably, and his hand moves from my face to join his other in pulling my hips to cradle him. "You're going to like this and you know it."

I dissolve into hysterics. I'm not going to like this at all. I don't know if it's his inexperience or just that he doesn't care, but no foreplay means pain for the woman. A small glimpse of his unexpected size has tears leaking silently from my eyes, my whole body quaking with horror.

Then, spreading my netherlips, he forces himself into me. Not all at once; no, thrust after increasingly forceful thrust until his bursts through my hymen and bottoms out, brushing painfully against my cervix.

I can't speak. The pain is nothing compared to his quirk, but I'm mute in my horror, and the burning is terrible.

The friction when he begins to move, sloppily and disjointed and extremely uncomfortable, has me calming into a state of shock. I welcome it like a warm blanket on a cold day, and for a little while, I can feel nothing but vague pressure inside me. My mind seems to detach from my body, looking down at the scene below me with terrible indifference.

Luckily, Shigaraki doesn't last long. With a few powerful final thrusts, he pumps his seed inside me, staying still until he's too soft and then pulls out.

I lay there numbly as he catches his breath. Then he cups his four fingers around my face and turns my blank expression towards him.

"How was it?" he asks, like he actually expects me to answer positively—to answer at all. "Was it good for you?"

I can only stare at him with wide-open empty eyes.

"Too much pleasure for you, I guess," he chuckles. I decide right then and there that Shigaraki knows the mechanics of sex and not much else.

Finally, I find my voice. "Are you going to let me go now?" I whisper weakly. He strokes my hair gently, as if a lover.

"Of course not, Player Two," he says as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.

I feel a full-body shudder wrack my form and, overwhelmed by this revelation and exhausted from pain and trauma, I close my eyes and let unconsciousness carry me away to temporary safety.

I hope everyone liked! I should have the next chapter up Christmas Eve, and a third chapter up as a Christmas present to all of you!