Midnight Musician

Origin

(TW: Implied self-k!ll!ng.)

The soil crackled under the man's footsteps. The barren land trembled in fear and the air parted for this man that seemed to control the world.

The footsteps stopped and the man unhurriedly looked at a wooden door, cracked and old from time.

It was a familiar sight, not because the aged wood and almost collapsed house blended in with the surroundings, but that it was this particular home that..

The man pushed open the door, faced with no resistance. He looked around the almost empty room and his eyes landed on a closed door.

A smirk crept up his face, illuminating his charming face with a sinister light. "Kyoji~ My dear little brother is gone but I'm still here aren't I?" A cold yet charismatic voice echoed. A voice melodic and low like a cello, holding a charm like the devil's.

"You know I don't like it when you run. You better come out Kyoji." The room filled up with a stifling killing intent and the house shuddered. The man's face was cold as he walked towards the closed door.

The man stood in front of the door, hands folded across his chest as he whistled a soul-stirring tune. It was clearly a cheerful piece, but it brought about an intense sense of fear and dread.

The man was patient waiting outside, he was able to wait for as long as possible. It's not like he could run away as he pleased. The man narrowed his eyes, he'll make it so he could never run again.

Suddenly, his chest tightened and a bad premonition rose up.

The man's fist clenched and slammed the door open, devoid of any patience he had earlier. His narrowed eyes widened and his hand fell to his side powerlessly.

The body curled up on the dilapidated bed, just like a child who lost their sense of security. In the stiff hand was a picture, too faded to make out its contents. But the man knew.

Like a child who had their innocence taken at a young age, leading a life with an outlook more mature than the oldest men, finally welcoming the warm embrace of sweet death.

It was at this time, the broken man who stood at the top of the world, fell into the darkest abyss and shattered to pieces.

                                                               -0oOo0-

The camera was shaky but the video was clear. A lone figure swayed and danced on the rooftops while a soothing melody echoed through the night. The full moon illuminated the moving figure and the fluid playing of the violin. It was enchanting and bewitching.

The hooded figure wearing a dark green hoodie and black pants paired with black combat boots effortlessly danced across the rooftops while keeping the melody consistent and steady. 'Silent Slaughter' was what this simple song was coined as by the listeners. It was a simple song that many could recreate perfectly but lack a little something. Several experts said it was because of their quirk.

A song that lulled many to sleep and also resulted in the capture of many villains after giving many heroes small adrenaline boosts. The effects were mystifying. The figure continued their song and dance, blissfully unaware of the camera recording them. The video carried on for another minute before shaking and turned down to face a pale blue wall. Sounds of light snoring sounded and the video soon cut out.

With the owner of the video being a child that tried to record the full song, it was inevitable for the child gave in to the calming effects of the song. Said child was now peacefully entering a dreamless sleep.

                                                                  -0oOo0-

Izuku Midoriya was happy with his life. He had a loving mother and a brash but awesome best friend. He diligently trained his body in preparation for his quirk and had the best life any 5 year old could ask for.

It wasn't until this brave 5 year old got his quirk that he realised the world wasn't always so bright and happy.

Hypnotic. A quirk that allowed him to manipulate someone's emotions and actions through singing. It even came with added effects like the success rate increasing when instruments are used and allowing him to sense what someone was feeling at the time. Quite cool huh?

The crying child on the bed probably disproves that.

Izuku didn't understand. He didn't understand the overwhelming sadness that didn't belong to him, the oppressing anger that blurred his judgement or the dark dark thoughts that polluted his head.

He wasn't suppose to be like this. Izuku didn't like people being sad either. He didn't like to feel helpless and do nothing while people were suffering.

He knew it was others who were suffering, these foreign emotions that didn't belong to him and never will.

Izuku cried himself to sleep almost every night, it was to the point that even strangers worried when he said everything was alright.

It was in this way that Izuku grew up relatively more mature than his peers. It was hard to retain a pure sunshine mindset when you're thrown into a pile of messy human emotions that changed faster than you could think.

No matter how selfless or kind you were, it was inevitable that one would grow possessive and selfish, paranoid of the world, when faced with a life that made you struggle or die.

But regardless of the burdens Izuku had to carry, he still chose to help people. Help that was barely a drop in the ocean that was the world. But he still helped no matter how meaningless it was, because to the people he saved, it was like a hope that descended.

Such a hope, that he would be able to one day make a difference, was the hope of one Izuku Midoriya. An ordinary child in the world of quirks, aspiring to be a hero.

                                                               -0oOo0-

A large hand, filled with callouses from time, reached out menacingly. But although fierce and seemingly rough, it was an awkward but gentle movement. The hand quietly rested on the soft green curls and lightly ruffled it.

The boy laid blissfully asleep.

The hand suddenly stopped and a low killing intent filled the room. It was stifling. Colder than the sharpest blade and as lethal as a cobra's bite. The boy stiffened and curled up instinctively. A low whimper sounded as the atmosphere shattered.

Like the strongest glass that fell from the highest alter, like a fragile heart that crystallised and cracked.

A vague sigh escaped and rang around the room, seemingly everywhere despite being nowhere. The hand gently resumed its ruffling and reluctantly pulled away.

The man's lips moved but no sound came out. He paused and pushed down the rising guilt in his heart.

"This time, I'd liked to see how you'd run.." It was a bitingly cold tone, filled with callousness and danger. But if one heard closely, it held a distant feeling of longing and pain, buried deeply under the cruelty.

The man left, bringing along the bone deep pressure that permeated the room. The sleeping boy relaxed minutely and slowly sunk deeper into slumber. But unknown to the child, a strange ache crept up his chest, suffocating his dreams.

Ignorant to the pain, the boy slept on. Not a care for the unknown man who left his room, or for the silent tear that slid down his cheek.