0.007% Special

Mission

Unknown Location; First Person View- Izuku

A black cloth seemed to cover the world.  Then it disappeared.  It reveled a little hand reaching out and tugging on someone's pant leg.

The view sifted to look up at a young man with dark skin and dreadlocks pulled into a pony tall.

"Grim" a small voice said

The man looked down at the voice and smiled, "What's up kid"

"How do you move so fast?"

"I trained really hard so I could go faster, and faster.  Why do you ask kido?"

A small heat wave went through the room they were in, making it feel much hotter than before.  "Well... can you teach me.  I-I want to go as fast as you."

The smile brighten a little bit on the man's face, "I would love that."

————————

I opened my eyes and blinked a few times to get the black spots out of my vision.

On my chest a foot was pressing me down to the floor, and to my neck was a curved, long bland grazing my skin.  My eyes trailed up the blade to a middle age black man smiling with amusement wright all over his face.

Grim Reaper, the world's best swordsman and hand to hand combat artist.  Born in Brazil than moved to America at nine.  Known to some as a urban legend, but to me a very real person.

"I blacked out didn't I."

"Yep" Grim said nonchalantly "that's why were going to do it again Izuku, so get up."

Grim recoiled his blade a little and then brought it to his side.  He grinned.

I could feel the aches in my body as I got off the floor and shook myself.  I had no weapon, no quirk, and was going up agains a legitimate legend.  Luckily I had no need for any of those things.

"Ready?" Grim said getting in a fighting position with his twin blades crossed like a 'x'.  They were long and sharp with slightly curved ends making them look oh so more deadly.

A nod came from me as I focused on my body.

To clarify I don't have a quirk.  Since brith I was pronounced quirk-less leaving be in a ditch of a life for a whole year.  I was bullied and neglected by my teachers at the age of 4.  Just after I turned five, my mother died and a few pro hero's had the audacity to say I was the person who killed her.

At first I believe them.  They were my heroes and images of protection to the world.

How could they be wrong, they know what good and evil was.  So if they say I am evil, then I must be.

These thoughts had tortured me for the longest time.  The idea I was powerless to help my mother or anyone else in the world killed me on the inside.  Well, until I found out I was special.

A power coursed through my body as I focus on distributing the energy equally among my libs. 

Next, I pictured a weapon in my mind as clear as day.  In my hands a bright, flickering light appeared molding itself to my preference.

Grim looked at me, "Really?"

A smile formed on my face.  In my hands were two swords with curved ends.  They were exact copies of Grim's swords except that these were made of pure energy and sparking.

I charged, slicing the air creating a small blast of pressured air towards Grim.

He then dodged, moving quicker then a built, getting behind me.  I turned, jumping back with a flip.  Then our blades crashed into each other with short bursts.