A/N: For my second story, I present a Tokyo Ghoul/ BNHA minor crossover. The only thing coming over will be the ghoul 'quirk'. This will be a side project to work on when I feel like, expect inconsistent updates. My main story I'm working on right now is a Danny Phantom fic called More:. I'm trying out a different writing style as an experiment with this story, so idk how others will like it.

There will be no CCG or other ghouls in this. It's all BNHA world characters, and any other OC's I put in. I never thought of doing a fic like this until I read one called: A Ghoulish Hero. It's really good, and I hope some people check it out.

I like dark stories, so expect it in this. If you can't stand vivid descriptions of dismemberment, torture, cannibalism, and murder, this may not be for you.

If you like it, stick around. If not, well, I guess I gotta improve. Point out any mistakes you see please.

Chapter 1: No Choice

It's not fair, he thought.

From the cold, dank, dark alley, he watched, embittered with jealousy and longing. Self-loathing was there, in small amounts, but he had long since accepted what he is. What he was forced to become.

The monster.

Yet, he still dreams, in small amounts. Even as the heroes prance and save, desiring praise from the ignorant masses, just outside the abyss, mere feet away. He dreams the same as every child in the world since the advent of quirks. To be a hero. To save people. To help.

But who helped me? Again, bitter thoughts. Dark, but terribly right.

At four, his quirk was strange. Originally, his mother and father feared that he was born quirkless, a notion in the society that equals to being a cripple. Sometimes worse. Nothing had changed, visibly. He couldn't control energy, float, read minds, spit acid; nothing. Yes, his strength had increased just a smidgen, and when a knife was dropped on his foot, only a small cut appeared. One that healed remarkably quickly. The doctor at the hospital, Dr. Setsuto, had told him he had one as well, no doubt.

But they never could figure out what it was, until a week later. When he starved, normal food wouldn't- couldn't help. It poisoned him. Even his favorites, omelette and rice, takoyaki, chocolate- all revolting to the point of him violently throwing up all over the kitchen table, or wherever he was when he tried them. The eggs tasted rotten, the rice was like a sponge, and the chocolate spoiled. None of it would settle. All of it left the same way it came in.

The hunger- his hunger- is awful, blinding, painful, and world numbing. It encompasses everything, enhances the senses, and makes everything seem more vivid and treacherous. Like a hallucination, but a bad trip. Hyper-fine details: able to see people on the top floors of skyscrapers, hear the neighbors four houses down arguing about infidelity, feel the minute differences in temperature with a gust of wind, and the smell…

Finally, he was able to smell something that didn't offend his nose… and oh, is it delectable. Heaven. When his father had cut his hand with a small misuse of telekinesis. A knife flew at the wrong angle, his hand cut and bleeding profusely, and the smell alone made his mouth water like a founta-

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya, ya da-"

"Hush," he whispered huskily into the yakuzas ear, his hunger egging him on and leaking into his voice. "Meat shouldn't talk." The man whimpered, unable to break free of the grip on the back of his neck. Clearly, the piece of shit had some degree of control, if the ice forming on his hand is any indicator. That's a little impressive, most of the thugs and criminals he's hunted don't have that level of control. Shitty quirks, low power, no discipline.

No matter still, frostbite heals all the same. A little bit of pressure and…

Crack.

Another body to the pyre. Or stomach, in this case.

He licked his lips in anticipation, his red eyes practically glowing in the dark. His teeth ached, fangs long and ready to feast. Without waiting, he bit into the shoulder of the cryokinetic criminal. Muscles and tendons tore, blood spattered against the walls, and flavor filled his mouth. The man, according to research and public records, was accountable to at least half a dozen murders and two counts of human trafficking. How he wasn't in jail was a mystery, but a meal is a meal.

The taste… oh, it's so good, he thought. Old memories come to the forefront, painful and enlightening. A defining moment in his life, and a catalyst that only made it spiral out of control for the coming years.

"Sai-chan? What's wrong honey?" His mother's question echoed, battering against his ears and pulverizing his mind with an even harsher migraine. The worry was there, the boy idly noted, no doubt about his lack of eating. But none of it was paid any mind, his gaze was locked. Aiming.

On the bleeding hand of his father. The blood dripped, harmlessly, messily, enticingly, and wastefully onto the ground, and he growled. That caught the older mans' attention, and when he turned-

He flinched, "What the hell?" He whispered, but the boy easily caught it, "Saigo, what's the matter with you?!" He was frightened, but by what, the boy didn't know.

His mother was quick to defend, "Jugo! Don't use that language with our child!"

In a rare show of power, he picked up the dainty woman with telekinesis and hauled her through their small kitchen to the spot next to him. "Look! Mayuri, look at his eyes!"

Although angry at the abrupt pull, she complied and-

Gasped in fright, visibly flinching. Not just because of the eyes, a deep black for the sclera and a haunting crimson for the iris, but because of the manic expression on the boys' face. Snarling, drooling, black tears streaming down his adorable face, and his teeth. They were sharper, his canines now fangs, the rest of the set gaining an edge they didn't have before.

"Sai-chan? Are you okay?" As his mother, the way she tried to comfort even in fright was warming, in only the way a mother could, and it brought him back, for a moment.

"M-mom… I- so hungry. Wh- I-" The boy stammered, confused and in pain, but his red, red eyes never left the red, red, liquid of life that was calling to him.

Jugo followed his sons' gaze, frozen, and where it landed… his previous fear suddenly catapulted. Escalating. He took a step back, and to his horror, Saigo took a step forward.

Mayuri noticed, taking a step away to get a better view of the current situation. When her husband took another step back, in obvious fright, Saigo followed suit with two stumbles on short legs. He growled again, primal and feral, and both parents shuddered.

Saigo lunged, and his father tripped. Insanity intensified when his teeth sunk into flesh. "ARRRGH, FUCK!" His father screamed bloody murder and profanities, but it fell on deaf ears. Off to the side, Mayuri watched on in horror, clutching her head and bawling out her beautiful green eyes.

That part of the memory always hurts. That look.

With rabid ferocity only seen in starving animals, which he was at the moment, the small four year old tore a chunk out of his father's hand. And his world exploded into colors, the taste too phenomenal and energizing him in ways never before felt. From the corner of his bloodshot, black and red eyes, he saw the blood on the ground and immediately jumped to it, lapping it up. Like a thirsty dog, without water for weeks, he drank from the dirty, cheap, wooden floor. The boy, not in his right mind, couldn't let the best things he's ever tasted go to waste like that.

Jugo rolled back, screaming and crying at the pain. A sizable chunk, about two inches into his hand and through the bone had been bitten off. The sickening crunches and squelches of his son eating his hand echoed along with the scream, and the terror intensified. His mother, almost pulling on her dark brown hair, finally gained some sense of self. She activated her quirk, Thermal Optics, and looked at her boy to try and see what was wrong.

She screamed, the sight before her terrifying her more than anything past that point. Jugo, despite his pain, looked over to her. "What is it?! Mayuri! What is it?!" His screams were desperate and hollow, tinged with unrestrained fear.

"His body!" She shrieked, "It's- I don't- it's not right! There's these, cluster things! All along his back, shoulders, waist…" Mayuri hit the wall, unable to back away anymore, "Oh god. They're in his arms and legs too; what do we do Jugo?! They're wriggling around like- like worms!"

Saigo finally finished up the blood, no more left to lap up, and his fevered gaze turned back to his still bleeding father. He was still hungry. The older man tried to back away, bare feet kicking on the ground. He hit the couch, and he turned to it with a hateful glare, and recoiled in pain and shock when he felt his hand being bitten into again! Jugo turned his glare to his son, happily munching on his right hands pinky and ring finger, the class ring on his hand bending and breaking under the child's teeth. The boy was in his own world, too happy to have the high that is human flesh. The blissful expression on Saigo's face made both parents blanch, and finally, they stared at him like a-

"Villain! Surrender, for I am here!" A hero… he wasn't sure who, some wood guy. Saigo wasn't terribly up to date on heroes anymore, hard to be when there's so much going on. Being homeless sucked. He laughed a little, hollow and dry, at the irony. This hero was mere feet away from him, the back alley fire escape providing to be a great perch to watch the fight while he feasted. Like a movie with a meal.

Picking up an arm, Saigo carefully ripped the fingernails out, tossing them to the ground. Those were gross, but luckily the yakuza wasn't very hairy. Again, he was grateful to be in an asain country, the lack of body hair made his meals much easier. A little pull and a spray of blood later, and the cannibal had a nice piece to munch on for the show. It's interesting how he used his ability, wood growing from his own body and ensnaring the people boldly robbing a bank in this day and age. Their quirks weren't really that impressive, so it's no wonder they're getting captured so easily.

Captured…

"I got him, Mayuri! He's captured!" Despite the grievous wounds, he held his son into the floor with his mind. The boy was crushed flat against the floor, the cheap wood splintering and cracking from the force. Yet the boy resisted, pushing his small arms up. Trying to get up, so he could have another bite.

Just one more bite, he thought. That's all he wanted.

"RAAAAAA!" The boy screamed, far deeper than someone his age should be able to. It distorted and warbled, and in his fright the father pushed down harder. Saigo flattened to the ground with a grunt, but still resisting with that mean, mean, demonic glare. His eyes seemed to glow, and his nails clawed against the wood, shaving off little bits.

"Jugo!" His wife called, "Stop! You're hurting him!"

The husband snarled, "He's trying to eat me!" He held up his bleeding hand, now missing two fingers, "Hell, he already did!"

The pressure increased again, and now the boy did whimper. One if Saigos' hands cracked audibly, but he didn't scream, not even when his fingers went next, bending at an inappropriate angle.

"He's your son!" Mayuri argued, desperate and confused and scared, but overall concerned over her only child. "You're hurting him! Please! Stop!"

Seeing her look, from the woman he loved, terrified tears dripping down her face, and despite his fear, he listened. It turned out to be a mistake. The boy broke past his telekinesis in a heartbeat, already used to a higher pressure. Next, a chunk of his calf departed from him, the shin bone being scraped away by frighteningly small and sharp teeth.

"FUUUUUUUCK!" Jugo screamed to the high heavens, and blasted his son back before he could do anymore damage. The boy seemed less inclined to chew his food, outright swallowing both bone and flesh.

Saigo skipped across the dining room table, small as it was, and slammed into the countertop, breaking it with a loud crack, and finally passing out. Both parents panted in exhaustion and fear, trying and failing to comprehend what just happened.

Honestly, the following days were blurry. After his hunger hysteria ended, they went to the hospital. Both for his father's injuries and to diagnose him.

His quirk… was damning. Ghoul. That was what the doctor named it after hearing of the previous nights harrowing events. A hunger for flesh and blood, unable to eat normal food, increased strength both in body and jaw, phenomenal endurance, and starved insanity… It was laughable almost.

Saigo Ōkui. His family name meant gluttony, and thinking now, it really was funny. The last gluttony. How fitting.

After a petition to the government, not made any easier by his abominable quirk or the fact that he already assaulted someone at the age of four- his father no less- they were eventually approved for food. His food. Three whole weeks later. The only reason he didn't attack anyone again was because the good doctor who diagnosed his quirk, was beyond frustrated and annoyed at the slow process, and had stolen blood for the boy to eat. Good man, that one.

In the beginning, Saigo hated his quirk. It fucked over his life, something fierce. Eating flesh and blood? You're a villain! No, a monster! Who doesn't see it that way? No one, that's who. The nurses who read his file sneered and stared at him like a freak. They flinched when his eyes bled black and red, and spread rumors of what he is. Doctor-patient confidentiality doesn't mean jack-shit when dealing with a cannibal.

They even had a nickname for him. Hannibal. He heard the whispers through the regular visits to the hospital from that point on. That name would stick with him for years. For two years, he heard the degrading remarks. The snide jeers hurt and stung, made him want to cry. But the worst of it all… was how effortlessly they crushed his dream. Saigo wanted to be a hero, but even at the age of six, knew how unlikely that was. He had to eat people after all. Who's ever heard of a cannibalistic hero?

But he still strived, against it all. The mocking and degrading hardened his soul, they wouldn't faze him. The speculations and rumors, baseless and false in their entirety bled into his confidence, but he wouldn't be stopped. Not even when an actual Pro-Hero: Endeavor, told him that he would never be a hero with that kind of quirk. The man even looked like he wanted to arrest the six-year old before he could become a threat, the prick.

That hurt, and silently, for the first time in his life, he promised to himself that he'd eat the asshole at some point. That scared him, that he could think like that, but his now far more matured mind readily agreed.

But none of them knew. Not his parents, the doctors, the heroes, the nurses. None of them. His quirk wasn't cannibalism, even if they couldn't see past that. His strength was far better than before, his endurance: magnificent. His senses are better than an animals, keen and lean and far better than most. Most knives or blades won't hurt him, barely a scratch; actually, one has even snapped against his skin before. Ha! Even then, that scratch is gone in seconds. A broken bone, hours. Fatal injury, maybe a day.

"What the fuck is that sound?"

Oh? Looks like the meal's been interrupted. Not that it mattered, the only thing left is the head and waist, and of those Saigo only eats the brain. The people in the alley… look like his most recent meals' friends. He licks his lips, feeling peckish once again. Oh, there's that binge eating again. And there's three of them. He'll be able to last a long time on these unlucky fucks.

Slowly, Saigo lets his wings out from his back. The holes in his suit perfectly suited to allowing his Kagune to form without tearing his hunting outfit. While he wasn't a master tailor, he at least was able to make his own combat suit. The wings extended into a limb from his shoulder, like a spider's leg, but more fluid. Crimson feathers, crystalline in appearance and structure, sprouted from the spiked limb, gleaming dangerously, and concealing it and adding a plume of deadly ammo. Outstretched at full length, each wing measured out to twelve feet long. They still weren't strong enough to allow him actual flight, not yet at least, but Saigo knows. It's a matter of time.

And speaking of time, it was about time he could go for another meal.

"Karo! You bastard! Where the fuck are ya?!" One of the yakuza bellowed, uncaring of the arrest happening just outside of the back alley. Hahaha. Some heroes they are, can't smell such an act right under their noses.

Because they can't save everyone. Those cynical thoughts again. Just. Like. You.

Especially not you. Yes, especially not him. Saigo knew, from the second he discovered his quirk, just how fucked he was. And yet, he still aspired, as waning as it was. He may have to feed on the flesh and blood of man, but he can at least use vigilantism to make his meals out of criminals. Well, a form of vigilantism.

And there are plenty of criminals.

Dropping down, his left wing pierces the head of a bear person. A mutant quirk, ultimately useless given his already ridiculous strength and endurance, but a small boon nonetheless. The second wing goes through another yakuzas' heart, killing him before he can react, leaving his quirk unknown. And the third, he takes with his bare hands.

The last man, fright now covering his face, yelps and tries a counter offensive. Fire erupts from his hands, but it's quickly snuffed out when a hand grips his face painfully. Cheekbones crack, and the hunters glee sings as the prey squirms and begs, and-

Crack.

And another one bites the dust, his skull bits piercing his own brain. And soon enough, Saigo bites into his prey. The fire user first, these combined four meals will last him at least half a month, though he'd hunt sooner anyway. And again, with a mouth full of meat, he laughs at the audacity, cackling madly. Not even thirty feet away, a hero is in the middle of arresting some two-bit criminals, and here he is: feasting, literally, on a bunch of yakuza. Absorbing their powers in small amounts, strengthening himself in ways every bit of humanity would reject.

Some hero, huh? Shut up.

Saigo knows, thanks to his quirk, exactly how much of a monster he is. But despite all of that… he chose good. To help people… so why?

Why does no one help him? It chipped away at his dream, that question, almost like he chipped away at the criminal underbelly of Musutafu. Slowly, they bleed and die, like his barely held aspirations.

He has no heroes that he aspires to be, just a general concept. All Might? Bullshit. The number one seems like he's full of crap. Endeavor? The man is obsessed with hero rankings, forget helping people. Actually, the number two hero has a higher civilian death count than villain. That should say something, but the media never reports it. Hawks likes the publicity too much, and Edge shot is… is a weeb wananby. Best Jeanist is weird as fuck, and Saigo has no comments on the hero.

He hates his pessimistic attitude, but it helps. Always looking at the bad side of things, but truth be told, that side is almost always right. After the incident, the first showing of his quirk, Saigo knew his father would bolt as soon as he could, despite his young age. The looks he gave me… It was surprising he lasted three years, to the age of seven, but eventually the man skipped town and alimony, taking the family savings with him. It devastated his mother, and she cried for days.

Saigo would eat him eventually, that he knew for a fact. Bastard. Piece of shit was too scared to raise his own son, what a pathetic larp.

And his mother… bless her heart. She stayed till the end, despite her obvious fear, at the age of nine. Murdered by a burglar. A burglar he ate, heart and whole, with ravenous anger and hatred. No hero saved her, just like no one ever saved him.

Just like always.

And then, after that, after being abandoned by both of his parents, whether intentionally or not, the government fucked him. While being thrown to one orphanage after another, his dietary relief aid was discontinued. That meant, no more blood. No more blood, meant no more food. No more food, meant he would starve and eventually attack someone unintentionally. Then, he'd be really fucked. So, at the age of nine, Saigo had to learn to hunt for himself.

Gruelling.

Awful, traumatic, life-changing…

And all for the better. Yes, it strengthened him… but all the same, it showed Saigo something. That he could only rely on himself, not heroes; no one would save him. The government couldn't provide for his food, and the doctor couldn't pull his weight anymore. And the heroes couldn't save him… ever. Not from himself, and not from others. Not even All Might.

So the hunt began.

Eventually, at age fourteen, Saigo found himself alone, in a dingy apartment that wasn't actually under his name. He was squatting, truth be told. No one would adopt him, not a blood sucking leech or possible cannibal. And the orphanage had kicked him out as soon as possible, the monster he was. He had his education, as meager as that was from a public school. All straight A's, all for the purpose of solidifying his dreams, as fading as they were.

To be a hero. Even if he knew, instinctually, that he was in the minority. Saigo wanted to help people, even if he had to eat some, unlike the way he was forced to be brought up. No one helped him… but that didn't mean he couldn't help someone else in a similar situation.

A year from the entrance exam to U.A. In his time as a vigilante, only two of his abilities have been exposed. His wings, and his regeneration. That's not good, inherently, but as a fourteen year old, Saigo did take pride in having better stealth than veterans on most occasions. Because-

The ghoul didn't trust a damn soul. He trusted in himself, himself, and only himself! With no others to rely on for backup, Saigo had to be careful. And being careful made him deadly. And being deadly… made certain things easier. The guilt was still there, but barely, always fading, always getting easier. He still needed money for his tuition, so he stole money from the people he killed. Snag a wallet, find the I.D., get an address, and sometimes he'd hit jackpot.

Boom! Big money. But only sometimes.

If his… dietary needs and eating habits were ever found out, it would doom him. It doesn't matter if they were criminals or not, there's such a thing as human rights. Not that Saigo agrees completely with those. Raping someone should make those go right out the window. If he could make peace with himself, and admit to being a monster, why couldn't others?

Pathetic louts without an ounce of a spine. Society is kind of fucked up that way, they empower heroes with loose and vague laws, giving them free reign. The villains… the more terrible ones, Like you, don't even get the death penalty. They get locked up, thrown in jail… then they break out soon enough, and the whole thing starts all over again.

And again and again and again… it's monotonous and insanity. Doing the same thing over and over, thinking something will change, but it's always the same. Saigo could see why people turn to vigilantism, and honestly, villainy as well, it's effective at keeping crime permanently low. It's effective. And it's bloody, and if there's something Saigo knows more than any hero, it's blood.

School sucks.

In a public school, education is mediocre. As someone who has to subside on a fixed income- one solely based off of kills- there's no way he could go to a private school. With no distractions aside from hunger, Saigo spent a good amount of time reading. Mainly his textbooks, though some spare literary works that intrigue him. That leaves him far ahead of his class and curriculum by large amounts.

He found classes laughable, passing tests and assignments with ease. It's public school after all.

The people here, his classmates, are boring. Uneventful.

Worthless.

Stop.

Meat.

They meander and waddle through school, showing off quirks and flaunting popularity; all of them completely aware of the consequences and the future. Or maybe, they just don't care.

It matters little, he won't see any of them later in life.

"Saigo, you're applying to U.A.?" The class quieted immediately, and all attention turned to the ghoul.

Silently, he resisted the urge to kill the shitty and utterly useless teacher with his kikan. The woman clearly had no idea of privacy. What good is it to ask him in a public setting anyway? She didn't ask anyone else if they were going, and no doubt someone else applied there as well.

"Yes." He curtly replied.

He had his dream, as fragile and far away as it was. He'd try, maybe accomplish it or succeed, and see where life went from there. Saigo, compared to other people, was far too aware of just how close he was to teetering on the edge. To be a hero or a villain… his quirk said villain, but his mind said hero.

Despite it all.

Despite it all…

"Well… good luck with that. You have the grades for it, at least." The woman obviously didn't know anything about his quirk, and Saigo kept it that way on purpose. Blood. He wouldn't have to spill any as long as no one pried.

Based off the looks he got from his classmates though, and the lack of declaration from his shitty teacher, Saigo was the only one who was applying to U.A. after all.

Heh. Only the monster follows his dream. How ironic.

He had no friends, and he didn't want any. They were pointless, destined to be never useful. They wouldn't help him now, in the future, or ever.

Nor would they save me.

No one could, at this point, except himself.

School was always the same: going over something he knew, the whispers he overheard throughout the day, and the utter waste of time that it was.

Time that could be spent hunting. To grow stronger. To eat more. To be better prepared. To feel more…

To be more powerful.

As the last bell rang, and as Saigo made his way out of school, his mind wandered.

At this point… what do I want?

And an answer came almost immediately.

One last chance.

To eat.

His eating habits have dramatically escalated compared to his childhood. What used to be two cups of blood… has now evolved into at least one person every few days. Even then, sometimes that isn't enough. As Saigo gets older, his appetite grows. What was enough before, isn't enough now, and it always seems to get worse. Even now, he realized that he was pretty much binge eating.

And it's always more.

Not that it matters, he hungrily thought. But it does, these kinds of thoughts changed perspective, and he wanted to keep his dream, as fleeting as it was. But his quirk, biology, forced him to think differently.

People tasted good, it's as simple as that. When everything else tasted like rank shit, besides coffee for some reason, and flesh tastes like heaven, it was no one that his thoughts wandered and changed like so. It tested him.

Breaks and mends. Dark echoes, silent, yet too loud to ignore.

"What the fuck are we doing here?"

Saigo looked down, his usual hiding spot up above going unnoticed. He preferred the high ground, it made things easier. Slowly, he lowered himself, fingers digging into solid brick with impossible ease and a terrifying lack of sound. The two below- more Eight Precepts of Death members- stalked aimlessly.

"Our guys 've been gettin' 'nabbed recently." The older yakuza with an accent shrugged, "Boss is worried."

Saigo narrowed his eyes, so Overhaul knew what was going on? Or maybe he had a sneaking suspicion? Then again… in the last year, his main food source has been members from his group, a good fifty percent. Considering his habits to eat more than necessary, that does mean quite a lot too.

The younger or the two snarled, clearly displeased, "Maaaaan, I don't wanna patrol 'dis area. It's not da most, but a lot of people die here."

Creeping lower, with fingers digging into the wall, Saigo suppressed a chuckle. This was a common hunting spot to the ghoul, but then again, a good chunk of the surrounding thirty miles was as well.

But it was true that he focused more heavily on this area, ever since those 'quirk killing' bullets started getting developed, he'd been paying more attention to this rising criminal empire. Normal bullets barely made him feel a thing, leaving a bruise for mere minutes before disappearing. But the 'quirk killing' bullets hurt, made him weaker… and that just wouldn't do.

One thing Saigo strived for, was power. With power, he could survive. With power, he would live and thrive. With power, he could be a hero… and with power, he could eat freely.

And power was a necessity in this fucked up world.

"Suck it up. It's only for a bit, then our replacements will show."

So there were more coming? That meant these two were only appetizers.

Good to know.

Slowly, quietly, a limb grew from his back. A long leg- spider like- extended from his shoulder, and he left it at that. There was no need to make a plume of ammo. It'd just be a waste of energy, these guys aren't worth it anyway.

With force, Saigo pushed off against the wall, denting and cracking the mortar. One of the two looked up, but his head left his shoulders not even a second later. The other had his head pierced by a hand, and both dropped to the ground with a thud. Quickly, the hunter looked around, checking the area for witnesses. He tilted his head high, sniffing the air for any unexpected appearances that sight wouldn't tell.

Nothing.

He chuckled darkly, and a second spider-like limb grew from his back. With both hands full, he used his new limbs to climb higher into the alley. To wait, to feed, to prepare.

Saigo didn't know what their quirks did, one was another mutation- some kind of armadillo? He chose to eat the other first, the younger of the two. He was most likely an emitter of some kind or possibly a transformer, hopefully at least. Soon, his Armor- no fancy name for it yet- would be fully developed, and with it, Saigo would be a whole new level of deadly. But to do that… he'd need to eat a lot more, a reason his eating habits for the last two years have been so ravenous.

So close to another ability, so close to further survival. Even if he couldn't be a hero- and Saigo would try damn hard to do so- he would survive.

The younger yakuza thug tasted of power, not stealth. A distinct difference between the three quirk types, he's an emitter. Or maybe four in his case, but Saigo was pretty sure he fell somewhere into the mutation category… somewhere deep and dark, right where the things of nightmares lay.

With little effort, an arm was torn from its socket, eaten like a chicken leg. Idly, while watching his surroundings from his perch, he searched through the man's pockets. Bingo. Finding reward, he took the wallet out.

"Kenta Mashijima… emitter type: wind? That's new, never had one of them before. And fifty thousand yen?!" He pumped a hand in victory, "Yes! Score!" Having had his joy, the fourteen year old cannibal took the credit and debit cards and tossed them to the side. Another search produced a phone, a rather nice looking model, and he stashed that to sell at a pawn shop for later.

Soon enough, the man was little more than spare meat that not even the ghoul would eat. No need to feast on unmentionables, that's disgusting. The armored mutant type was next, and with ease, he tore the leathery shell from his hide. Saigo gulped, finding a small amount of joy in the action. Like unwrapping a piece of candy, or deshelling a crab, and he dug in with gluttonous abandon.

From the dark alley, close to midnight, squelches and crunches echoed horribly into the night. No small amount of blood fell from above, impacting loudly onto the ground and creating a growing crimson puddle. He ripped and tore into the carcass, savoring the taste, inhaling the scent, feeling cont-

"What the fuck is this shit?!" Whoops. Got a little immersed there.

Red eyes voided down below, like many, many times in the past, and he stares down at his prey. More prey, like they always are. They were staring down at the mess he had made, a large pool of blood and fleshy bits. Saigo smiled darkly, fear is a tactic he's used plenty of times, and it's massively effective in making an opponent less focused, less aware, more skittish.

Easier.

He moved his legs and arms, climbing over the safety rail from the fire escape and perching himself ready for a pounce. More blood dripped down, through the grates and from his arms and face, splashing into the puddle and onto a bald man's head. It dripped onto his white suit- man does he stick out like a sore thumb with that.

"Akira! Above!" The man shouted fearfully, and to add to the mounting fear and for a little dramatic flare, he kicked a head down. It landed loudly in between them, splashing up the liquid of life onto the pants of all of the three.

"Ahhh! Fuck, it's Testu!" Another of the three, a scrawny looking bookworm in a white dress shirt, screeched and backed into the wall.

The seemingly leader of the group- Akira- however, while clearly unnerved, moved to the attack immediately. He hefted his hands into the air, and while he couldn't see the enemy, he knew which direction he was at.

Fire erupted from his hands, green in color, and illuminating the pitch black alley. With force, Saigo launched himself into the air using only his legs. And for a brief moment, the three gang members saw what they were fighting.

Small, maybe 160 centimeters max, clearly a child of some kind. Soaring in the air in an all black and purple outfit, no sleeves on his arms, and a mix of dark purple shorts over a pair of black pants. A hood covered the boy's head, and a mask for the upper part of his head. The mask was all black, two small horns on the top of the head, with eye-slits and a strange triangle shape in the middle of the forehead. And from those eye-holes they only saw red gleaming dangerously in the eerie light, along with a savage, bloody grin that did not sit well with the three.

The predator twisted fiercely in the air, dodging the plume of fire. Two limbs burst from his back, latching onto a rooftop and launching him down at breakneck speeds. With a fist reared back, another was pointed forward like a chop, spearpoint ready for penetration. "Come here, meat!"

The largest of the three, the tall bald man with blood on his shiny head, stepped up quickly. His skin glowed a brown gold- bronzing over and hardening to increase his natural defense. Speed not diminished at all, he attempted a right cross to intercept the attack and break the little monster's hand.

Before they connected, the third of the group whipped out a pistol and opened fire. They bounced harmlessly off of his skin, and Saigo laughed in amusement.

The others were not amused, "Use the quirk-killing bullets!" Akira shouted.

While the bookworm was fumbling a reload, Saigo and the bronzed man finally met in combat. And the result was not what any of the three were expecting. Saigos' hand split the man down his knuckles, in between the ring and middle finger, and down to the elbow. "UUUAAAAAHH! MY ARM!" Fool, bronze is something he has experience tearing apart barehanded.

Saigo landed and immediately jumped up again, bouncing off of the nearby wall twice, then a third time, and launched himself at the most useless of the group. Even if he was confident, he's not fucking with those quirk-killing bullets tonight. With a twirl, his two spare limbs cleaved the man in fours, and he bounced back off the ground immediately. Green fire scorched the ground, hitting the body he just mauled.

"Damn it! He got Shinji!" The ghoul snarled down at the man menacingly, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I don't like my meat cooked," He dodged another torrent of toxic colored fire, then another, "It's better raw, dripping with fresh blood." The last word was punctuated with a guttural growl, disturbing the last living two members.

"What the fuck are you?!" More fire, and getting tired of this ability, Saigo used his limbs to propel himself up the walls and above the rooftops. For a brief moment, he could have sworn that he saw something golden in a nearby alley, but he paid it no mind.

With surprising authority, and from high above, he answered the thugs final question in life. "Carthage." And a crystal feather, a deep red in color, sprouted on each wing, one each. He flung his Kagune forward, and both projectiles soared with perfect aim. The man, Akira, found himself losing his head, coloring the walls red with his spray of blood.

The final man, the only one whose name he didn't get, was struck in the stomach. The crystal protruded through it, but not all the way. Hmm… resistant enough to survive my feathers.

Without any more fanfare or stylish moves, he let himself drop to the ground, landing in on both feet. He got up slowly, walking towards the man with a hunters glee. Using one of the two limbs protruding from his back, he hooked Akira's body and brought it to him, using the other to slice off an arm. After tearing the sleeve off, he dug in, relishing an emitters taste.

Green fire is a little spicy, that's nice.

The last man alive, barely at this point, watched with absolute fear as the small monster at least six heads shorter than him chewed into his leader's arm. All the while making his way towards him. It was horrifyingly impressive how fast he ate the limb, bones and meat both, and if he didn't have a hole in his stomach, he'd throw up his guts right here and now.

Instead he's throwing up blood, coughing and hacking in pain.

Saigo stopped in front of the man, cocking his head curiously. "What's your name?"

The man whimpered, completely unlike his brutish looking character, and Saigo laughed at him. "I- it's Mi- Minato."

Another limb, this time a leg, was cut off from Akira without even looking. It landed in the cannibal's hand with a sickening plop. "Hmm… liar." He lost his foot for that.

"FUUUUUCK!" A hand shot over his mouth, bloody with his friends blood. Tears streamed down his face, dripping onto the monsters hand. He smiled, teeth red with a little flesh stuck in between.

"I don't really care, Minato, but what I do care about…" The gun from Shinji landed in his hands, loaded with the quirk-killing bullets. "Is where these bullets come from? How are they made?"

He shook his head, "Ah." Saigo removed his hand, silly me.

"I- I don't know. Only the top guys know, I- I swear." He cocked his head to the side, watching intently, then smiled sweetly.

"Truth." His heartbeat doesn't lie.

The man brightened up visibly, but didn't have time to celebrate. Carthage pierced his windpipe with his hand, tearing out tendons and throat. The carotid artery splashed him with blood, and he licked his face.

Deciding that enough time and attention was brought here, Saigo made quick work of his food, doing less chewing and more swallowing. It all tasted the same, but he didn't like that he couldn't savor his meal. In less than ten minutes, the men were nothing more than lumps of flesh and meat, unrecognizable and void of any valuables.

Himiko Toga watched on, entranced, enthralled, and inspired. She didn't know what to think, not after that performance. Well, she knew she loved it.

Her face flushed red with a furious blush, and she held her cheeks, giggling softly. So much blood, so much red, red life all over the place. The masked boy, because that's what he was, she could tell, had practically painted the place with those three.

She was going to do that, but she didn't mind missing the chance at a kill. Not after watching that. What a show!

And he didn't just drink the blood like she does, no. He ate them, flesh and bone, splattering blood all over the place and himself. And he seemed to enjoy it too, almost as much as she did. "I think I'm in love…"

She sighed softly, but now she had something. A goal. To find this mystery man… What did he call himself?

"Carthage…"

She didn't know what that is, but it's not like she can't look it up later. Himiko looked on the scene for a little while longer, panting with flushed cheeks and softly palming the knife in her hands. She twirled it lovingly, humming a sweet tune that didn't match the dreary surroundings. Thinking fast, she pulled out her phone and took some pictures.

But unfortunately, she couldn't stay long. After that kind of fight, absolutely bloody and brutal and hot, no doubt some shitty heroes were on their way. She gulped loudly, walking away from the scene of the crime with wanton desire.

"I wanna see you… my bloody angel." She wanted to see him, the real him, covered in blood, she wanted to drink his blood, and share her love. Maybe he would let her stab him? And then he would be bloody too!

All she had to do is track him down. Easier said than done… but she's found herself to be particularly good at that kind of activity.

Eraserhead felt sick. Normally he was tired, and his eyes ached; sleep deprivation was common for someone like him, even more so with his quirk. As if dry eye wasn't enough.

But the scene before has been a common occurrence, unfortunately, for the last few years. If he had to guess, it all started maybe four or five years ago. But a little less than three years ago,similar scenes to this one were becoming uncomfortably more frequent.

Blood littered the scene, from the pool on the ground, the splatters going all the way up the alley wall to the roof, and the blood covered fire escape. Body parts, mainly the waists and heads were scattered through the area. Bits of flesh, chips of bones, shredded organs… god this is sickening. For maybe the third time in the last fifteen minutes, he suppressed the urge to vomit.

"Is this…?"

He turned his head, looking over his shoulder. Hawks had his head on a swivel, taking in the carnage. He looked pale, clearly uncomfortable, and his hands kept petting his wings. A calming gesture perhaps?

"Same M.O. as usual, criminals, desolate alley, dead of night…" Eraserheads eyes briefly flashed over the scene once again, "and absolutely disturbing levels of brutality."

The winged hero looked like he sucked on a lemon. Slowly, he took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is the first time I've been to one of the 'Carthage' scenes. I honestly thought people were exaggerating…"

Lifting his own goggles, Aizawa rubbed his eyes. Idly, he fished for his eye drops, and lifted his eyewear to moisturize his eyes. "Yeah, it's bad."

"Bad?!" The red head snapped, throwing a glare at his fellow hero. "You think this is just bad?!"

Unfortunately, nobody could be the underground hero in the glare department, so he felt nearly zero intimidation. "You haven't been to some of the nastier ones. As in, way more than this."

"Five people, even if criminals, were butchered and eaten Eraserhead!" Hawks waved his hand outward, encompassing the scene of brutality. "This isn't just bad!"

Deciding to change the subject, since he obviously wasn't getting it, his gaze fell to the symbol on the wall. "Tell me, do you know the significance of that emblem there?"

Hawks snarled, but moved his head where his comrade was looking. A triangle, with a circle on top and two branches in between the two shapes. "Yeah? And?"

"It's a play on words." Aizawa moved further into the scene, not even bothering to avoid the blood. It's everywhere. While disgusted, Hawks followed. "The symbol you see is of the Carthaginian Empire. Do you know who is famous from Carthage?"

Shaking his head, the winged hero said: "No, was never too good with world history." He shrugged his shoulders, suppressing a shudder from the sheer smell of the slaughter. He had planned on going for a few more hours on patrol, but tonight's a night to go home and take a shower.

Maybe get a heavy drink too.

"Hannibal Barca of Carthage. The scourge of Rome, and a brilliant tactician." Dry eyes moved up and down the bloody symbol. "Always outnumbered, he used guerrilla tactics to chip away at the massive empire or Rome, creating military achievements that would go down in history."

Hawks couldn't see the connection. "I don't get it, what does this Hannibal guy have to do with anything?" He shifted uncomfortably, eying the swarm of policemen trying and failing to hold their food down. Poor saps, this was brutal by many standards, a rarity in Japan. Well, it's supposed to be at least.

Aizawa sighed, feeling an extreme need to sleep, even if he knew there would be nightmares. "There is another famous Hannibal, do you know him?"

Again, Hawks shook his head. The other hero shrugged, "I didn't really expect you to. It's from an old American crime novel called Red Dragon. Hannibal Lector, also known as Hannibal the Cannibal, is a main character in the series. Hyper-intelligent and very deadly."

Both heroes were silent for a moment, before the dry eye hero sighed and began walking out. Following along, Hawks couldn't help but ask. "So what? He's calling himself Carthage to-"

"No," Aizawa cut him off, "Carthage is stating something. He's smart, like both Hannibals. Always outnumbered, like Barca, but a cannibal like Lector. It didn't take us long to figure out that his victims were being eaten, but he dropped hints."

Hawks growled, finally understanding. "He's mocking us in a way, isn't he? Not outright saying he's strong, but using literary works and history as double meanings."

Finally out of the crime scene, or perhaps slaughter hall, Aizawa moves towards another alley. He turns on a faucet, letting the water dribble out and moving his bloody feet into the stream. "In a way, I suppose." He swapped feet, letting the running water cleanse his soles. "He's also warning us. He goes after criminals, making him a vigilante, but by butchering them like this, most will think he's a villain."

Eraserhead moved back, letting Keigo rinse his feet. "What he's telling us," Hawks starts, "is that he doesn't want to fight heroes. He's not against us, is that it?"

Leaning against the wall, the underground hero waves his hand in a so-so manner. "Perhaps, at least I think so. But all the same, he's warning us. Strong in a fight, strong outnumbered, dangerously intelligent and learned, and unknown quirk and abilities." He sighed again as the winged hero turned the faucet off.

"So what are you saying, Eraser?"

The two stared at each other for a passing moment, one a shadow of the hero world, the other a beacon. "... If you're going to be a part of this investigation, the help will be appreciated. But don't underestimate Carthage, and don't fight him alone. He may not be hostile to us… but he still gives out warnings."

"You think he's willing to fall through with those?" Hawks asked.

Slowly, he answered. "...Yes. I think so." Aizawa flicked a hand in the direction of the slaughter, "Do I need to elaborate more?"

Both turned to the scene, now swarmed by police officers and several other heroes. On top of one of the roofs, Nighteye can be seen with one of his interns- Lemillion? Both were staring grimly down at the scene, the ever present smile on Mirios face nowhere to be seen.

Spreading his wings, Hawks quietly responds. "No, I suppose you don't." One flap sends him into the air, "Get some sleep man, you need it." And another sends him off at extreme speeds.

Now left alone, he begins walking off back towards the scene, Tsukauchi had just arrived. "I'll try."

A little over a year till the entrance exam for U.A.

A little over a year to get as strong as possible, to evolve as far as possible.

Honestly, Saigo thought himself strong enough as is. Easily dismantling minor villains and thugs, even from a young age. All he's known is struggle, pushing himself constantly, adapting his mind and body to situations most never deal with in their lives. And he's thrived.

And even then, he had to get stronger. U.A. may be his last chance to become a hero, to be able to openly use his quirk, but it's also a trap he's willingly walking into. He'll be surrounded by heroes, people who have spent a good chunk of time hunting down villains and evildoers.

But what about monsters? It's entirely possible that they sense that something is off with him. Maybe the scent of a killer will be on him? Maybe, maybe, maybe… but he still has to try.

He wanted to help people, he's always wanted to do that since he was young. Like literally every other kid in his generation… but how many have to eat people. Saigo is very aware of how much his dream has changed, how, at this point, he almost wants to help himself more. And in a way, by devouring criminals left and right, he is.

Surely, after so long, it's okay to be selfish like that.

His classmates kept looking at him, sending interested glances his way, breaking him out of his inner thoughts. Honestly, the second it's out that he's going to- or at least trying to go to U.A., they finally start paying attention to the orphan of the class.

How callous. Or perhaps, shallow.

Saigos eyes narrowed, sending a minor glare at the extras in the class. Perhaps it was a little pompous to think that, but seeing how they literally, in the last two years, have never even spoken a word to him… perhaps it's not. It's arrogant to think that, but the ghoul had no desire for friendship from these kinds of parasites.

Honestly, he didn't even understand the concept of friendship that well. He thinks, when he was younger, he may have had one or two. A cousin perhaps? It's hard to remember, a lot happened in the last ten years. Discovering his quirk, attacking his father, dear old dad leaving, mother dying, being homeless…

Yeah, a lot has happened, he supposed.

The bell rang, and Saigo left class and made his way to the entrance of the school. He wanted to go home, get the last of his stuff together, and finally move out of that squatters hole. After the last few nights, he was pretty sure that he would have enough money to sustain himself in a new apartment for the foreseeable future. Grand total, after the last two years of binge eating, he's amassed a decent fortune- one that will last in a good apartment. Weapons, money, information, drugs, he had a decent amount gathered so far.

It's pretty easy to take things from a corpse after all.

"Nikuya-san!" As he was heading out the door, he heard his 'name' being called. His false name, that is. Saigo Ōkui has a registered quirk that makes him dangerous, Saigo Nikuya has a mysterious quirk that hasn't been updated in years.

Slowly, with boredom, he turned around. Three people- his classmates, he thinks- are rushing towards him. A girl is leading the charge, with a boy and another girl following close behind.

Who the fuck are these people?

"Can I help you?" Saigo asked, face still painted with boredom. God, he didn't want to deal with this. He could already feel his stomach rumbling, and these people weren't criminals, so he couldn't eat them.

On most occasions.

"Yeah!" The leader of the three exclaimed, and to Saigo, it was a little too loud. Enhanced senses included very good hearing, and the way the chipper brunette practically yelled that did not make his ears feel good.

Saigo stared at the three, unimpressed. Two brunettes and a girl with blue hair, would that make her a bluenette? The leader girl, because he didn't know her name, wasn't the tallest of the three, just somewhere in the middle. Ponytail, slim face, decent body, and confident disposition. What was her name… "Asahina-san?"

Maybe he should have said her name wrong, because the girl immediately perked up to annoying levels. "Yep! Though you can call me Sui! These two are Kento Kirio and Shina Hado." At this point, the ghoul was positive that this 'Asahina-san' person had a voice amplifying quirk, and it's really digging into his nerves.

Besides that, his attention turned to the other two. The boy, Kento Kirio, the tallest of all those present, looked less like a boy and more like a minotaur. Saigo recognized him from the classroom two doors down. Tall, bovines snout, horns, large upper body, minotaur. Wonder if he tastes like steak…

The last girl completely stands out to the other two. Long blue hair, reaching down to just above her waist, a little more curvy than the leader girl, and the shortest of the three. Besides having large blue eyes and honestly finding her cute, she doesn't stick out anymore, however. Once again, he doesn't know her name.

"Uh-huh… why are you three talking to me?" He asked, "Not to be rude, but neither of you three have ever talked to me before."

The trio of friends looked between each other for a moment, before the cow-boy opened his mouth. "Actually, we heard you were applying to U.A. and wanted to talk to you."

Only slightly, his eyes narrow. Well, it's not like he didn't know that. Why else would anyone bother him at this point? "Ah… and?"

He was really hoping they'd catch onto his apathetic personality at this point, as in, he doesn't care. Minotaur definitely looks like he gets it, but the other two seem a bit oblivious. Cheerfully, the bluenette chose to talk next. "Actually, my sister goes to U.A., she's a second year there. I'm a grade lower, but I'll be applying next year too!"

Okay, she actually had something of a similar topic to talk about. At least now, he could understand her reason for interacting with him. Also, this could be a good way of getting information out of her. He wasn't entirely sure about the entrance exam, maybe hearing a retelling of it would be good. "Hmmm. Good luck I guess, did your sister tell you anything about the entrance exam?"

She shook her head, Damn it, "No, the faculty are pretty tight-lipped about it. They specifically instruct people not to talk about it."

"Tsk." Saigo wanted to groan, of course they wanted to keep it a secret. Oh, well. Going in blind it is. There's still a good amount of time left anyway. Just have to keep training and by training-

I mean eating.

He gulped, feeling his hunger spiking once again. Damn it, it's only been a week since he last ate. And he ate a lot at the time too. If the government ever found out about how big his appetite would become, they would have locked him up at four. Each meal he casually eats enough for twice or thrice his weight over.

"Well," he turned to leave, "good luck I suppose. Hopefully I'll see you over there." That was about as far as his pleasantries would go for now.

The three seemed a little stunned by his abrupt departure, and the leader of the group reached out. "Wait!" Sui called, getting his attention again, and the attention of the passersby.

Regretfully, Saigo turned back around. "Yes? I do have somewhere to be." Specifically, he needed to get some more documents forged. It was enough, at the moment, for a public school. But for a government sponsored hero school… well, his background was going to have to be really extensive.

Sui seemed to deflate a little, peppy little thing she is. It's a little funny how the minotaur is the most timid of the group. "Uh- I was just curious what your quirk is? If you're applying there, you gotta be confident in your power right?"

Dull amber eyes stared into vibrant green, and a moment of silence came over the quartet. Smiling, he closed his eyes, "Yes I am confident in my quirk." Reopening them, he seemed to get the reaction he wanted from the three. They seemed startled, which he couldn't blame them for. It's a stark difference, the white of the sclera gone for coal black, and his iris now a bloody red. The black veins extending from his eyes were probably startling as well. With a smirk, he waved them off, "See ya~"

The trio watched as he left, unsettled. "Well," Shino broke the tension when he rounded the corner, "that was kinda cool." The other two looked at her strangely. "What?"

"Weren't his eyes kind of creepy?" Kento asked, at that moment, he had never felt more like a piece of meat in his life. His animal instincts were telling him to run, but his mannerism won out in the end.

Sui perked up again, bundle of energy that she is, "Yeah, they were, but then again, it was really cool!" She shook her head back and forth for a moment, "I wonder what else his quirk does. That's clearly just an activation of some kind." It was left unsaid that if the loner was confident enough to get into U.A. High school, then obviously he could do more than just change his eye color.

The other two talked back and forth a bit more, and Shino turned to where the boy just left from. Maybe she'd tell her sister to look out for the guy, to see exactly what his quirk did. Feeling a little peckish, she turned to her friends. "Hey, let's go get some ice cream!"