You Can't Lose Me || Shinso x Reader

Chapter 3: Something Needs To Change

Warnings: bullying, negative thought, suicidal ideations, gore(ish) details,

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(y/n)'s POV

I start walking back home, again. I cross over a bridge along the way, but something at the bottom catches my eye; the bridge crosses a river and a dead koi fish rests on the shore. The symbol of persistence cast out of its home in the water lies dead and surrounded by nothing. A bad omen.

Unable to stop myself, I make my way down to the water's edge; it's a man-made river, so there is a step or two into the water before it drops off. Kneeling beside it, I grimace as the stench of its rotting flesh attacks my nose.

I slide my backpack off my shoulders onto the ground. Sliding the photograph into one of the front pockets, I hesitate – I don't want all this negative energy to latch onto me. Never mind that. If my quirk is a gift, I want to use it for good, to bring life and positivity to a place with none.

I brush my fingers over its scales, using my quirk on it; the koi starts wriggling around searching for water. I pick it up. The koi doesn't struggle in my grasp as I gingerly place it in the water. Absentmindedly, I watch it swim with a gentleness that relaxes me, but my ears catch footsteps behind me.

I stand up to face them and find a pair of teenagers. I recognize their grey jackets, red ties, and green slacks. These are students from that school for future heroes: UA High.

"What the hell was that?" One of them says, their face contorted in disgust.

A shriek erupts from the other. I turn my head to find the Koi's scaled skin floating just below the water's surface like a crumpled shirt, empty of any flesh. I shouldn't have released my quirk so soon. When I face back to the high schoolers, the first grips me by the collar with both hands.

"I saw you bring that fish back to life, don't pretend to be shocked. How messed up do you have to be to play with something dead? Who do you think you are, a god?"

They spit into my face, making me grimace. I raise my arm and slam my elbow down against their wrists to get them to release me. Giving them a swift kick to the stomach, I grab my backpack and run up the stairs to the bridge.

I don't make it halfway across when the other teenager grabs the back of my school jacket and pulls me to the ground. Though the wind is knocked out of me, I manage to rise to my knees. My bag is then ripped from my hands. Before I can protest, the first teen approaches us and kicks me into the bridge's guardrail. They then shove me over the edge and into the river below.

The water moves slowly, so I don't get swept downstream, but it is cold and surrounds my entire form. My senses panic as I flail my arms and breach the surface. I float back to the water's edge gripping the stairs as if my life depended on it, but when I look up, I find the pair of bullies rifling through my backpack. My heart stops when they pull out the photo of Shinso and I.

With a wicked smile, they tear the picture in two before letting the pieces float away in the breeze. Though the air only makes me shiver, I clamber out of the water and chase after the drifting scraps. Once both are again in my grasp, I turn to watch as the pair of kids throw the rest of my backpack's contents into the river before strutting away with a victorious laugh.

As I collapse to my knees at the river's edge, I hold the two sides of the photo together – the rip divides mine and Shinso's faces. My tears fall hot over my icy cheeks.

Am I really this weak? I even tried to fight back this time, but I can't protect myself without Shinso around. Pathetic. How did I ever think I could protect other people if I can't even do that for myself? If I tried to fight against a villain, I would only end up dying – though maybe that would be for the best with a quirk like mine. It's almost fitting. No, I'm not going down that road. Leaving life behind is just running away, which only proves my weaknesses as fact, but there's no way I can go on living in this fashion.

In a fit of frustration, I rip off my school jacket and throw it into the river before storming off into the city, shoving the photo's halves into my pocket. The sun falls below the horizon as I wander through the streets, the city nightlife coming alive and music pouring out from every shop along the boulevard. Eventually, the crowds of people make me uncomfortable, so I duck into an alley.

Weaving around the overflowing dumpsters at every back door, I turn the corner to find a dead body lying below a looming figure – most likely a villain. Once they leave, thankfully not noticing my presence, I trek quietly over to the fresh corpse, an adult man, checking for a pulse and finding none. He has evident head trauma and a deep knife wound where several pints of blood have already spilled from. My eyes travel downward to gaze at my hand, questioning the morality of the idea I have in mind. Strengthening my resolve, I take a deep breath before placing my fingertips to his forehead.

The moment my skin collides with that of the man, my energy depletes and I observe the effect of my quirk while I gulp in breaths of air. As if I were rewinding time itself, the man's blood flows back into his body and his scattered wounds heal with celerity. The knife protruding from his chest slowly slide out from his wound as it heals over. His eyes then shoot open alarmedly, but there is no expression to accompany the action; he stares into nothingness. Well, at least I know it works – I guess.

With another shiver, I remember that my clothes are still damp and cold. Under my telepathic instruction, the man searches through his pockets and pulls out a wallet with a reasonable amount of banknotes within. Alright then, time for experiment number two.

Maintaining a straight face and plastering a less abnormal expression onto the man's face, we walk out of the alley and into the very populated streets. Entering some family-owned clothing store, I pick out a few clean and dry clothes before taking them up to the counter. The man pays for the clothes, makes small talk with the cashier, and – as I eye the nearly empty tip jar sitting next to the register – drops a few of the notes into the jar before leaving.

The next thing to catch my attention is the growling of my stomach – I didn't go home to eat dinner. The faces of my parents flood my mind as I question what I'm doing. How will they react to me not coming home tonight? Will they notice at all? Of course they would, but if I continue what I'm doing, I won't be able to see them again. Is this really what I want?

Yes. That life was never for me. It was hell. Stop questioning yourself.

I make the man purchase some Takoyaki from a street vendor. We start walking back toward the alleyway we came from, but my limbs weaken and my vision grows fuzzy. Gripping the food container like a lifeline, I quicken our pace, desperate for the solitude of the alleyway.

Once alone, the man collapses like a deflated balloon into a pile of skin and bones, and my strength returns in that same moment. I glance over at the mess. I should be disgusted by the sight, right? I make a face to imitate how I should be reacting, but I still feel nothing. Do I just have a strong stomach or something? Does it come with the quirk?

After changing and removing the photo from the pocket of my school slacks, I toss my old clothes and the remains of the man into one of the dumpsters. Finally, I dig into the hot food, which feels good after being cold for so long.

Regardless of how using my quirk like that felt, I think I can work with it. I can certainly keep myself alive, but I wonder if I can make a living off of this; the underground market is crazy, so profit could be easily achievable. Well, if I'm destined to be a villain, then I say screw trying to be something I'm not and be one. Be a villain no one will mess with or pick on.

A villain worth remembering.

A villain worth fearing.

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A/N: That's the end of the origin story. Now onto the extra yummy stuff. (don't question my wording)

I think it's extra fitting for the "high school students" to be from UA. I didn't expressly mention the thought, but it registers in (y/n)'s mind as 'even future heroes think I'm a villain'. It just adds a second punch to what they did.

Also, if you have suicidal ideations, it does not mean that you're weak. It doesn't mean you're running away. There is a strength that comes with surviving and resisting, but any attempts do not take away from that. I speak from personal experience when I say that finding hope, purpose, and the will to keep going is one of the hardest parts of struggling with this. Hear me when I say that it will be okay. It is possible. And my heart goes out to you.

Word Count: 1658