Two best friends join U.A. for their own reasons. They both have villains breathing down their necks, trying to orchestrate them and use them as tools of destruction. Can the seed of love form in the midst of the painful and depressive trials that t...
A/N: Trigger warning! Turn back now if you get queasy easily! Blood and a decent amount of it just at the beginning of this chapter!
You have been warned.~
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Some years ago--
I'll kill him... A feminine, mature voice, full of rage, echoed through the empty abyss before her. I'll kill him, for this... again, with a grudge lacing her words, radiated through her mind as nothing but a black space surrounded her. He's dead to me... finally, her last sentence faded into nothingness. Shrouded by darkness, a pair of dead, black eyes flashed for but a second into view and disappeared just as fast.
Soon, a forest masked by thick fog surrounded a clearing that exposed some sort of dirt mound and many vines that grew over it. A crow, which landed on a pale hand sticking up from the ground, moved just slightly and its neck was snatched.
Its thrashes and flails barely made the hand budge, its useless attempts to get free only made things worse. The hand yanked the poor bird into the dirt mound and blood spurted from the small hole it was dragged into.
That crow didn't look like the first victim the hand had taken, seeing as gore littered other particular spots around it as well, for a stray, severed finger sat in the leaves.
Dirt, where the hand sucked into, shifted and rose, as though something pushed it. When the surface tore into fragments, a head full of long silver hair lifted and dangled from a pale neck.
The very hand that killed the crow, clenched onto the edge of the hole that was made and let droplets of blood soak into the soil. Wavy pigtails, incredibly long and unkempt, cascaded over her scarred, dead body that was full of stitches. Decay in some spots proved how long she was in there, for even the blue and sleeveless, V-neck top she wore was torn. Her black skirt tattered and filthy was held up by a worn-out belt.
Around one leg and arm, were bandages that hid any possible, unsightly parts on her limbs. Dead, black eyes that were once full of life, examined the ground around her as though there was something she was looking for, and there was.
Not too far from her, sat a pair of cracked and rusted round glasses near the dirt mound she sat in. Very slowly her arm reached out and the two silver strands on top of her head, which made the shape of a heart together, swayed slightly from her movement. So did the extremely long bangs that hid one of her eyes and reached past her stomach.
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