Little Miss Aizawa | Dadzawa [BOOK 2]

Chapter 1 - All These Hollow Halls

The bitter wind stung his face as he swept through the deserted streets of Musutafu. It was well passed midnight, the moon suspended high in the sky.

He loved the city at this time. The peace, the lights, it allowed him to forget.

Forget the pain of losing so much is such a small space of time.

A year had passed since the rise of Blue Crossed, and just as quickly as they had appeared, they were gone again.

It was was released to the press, the Villain's true identity, but soon enough the buzz had died down to a mere flicker of interest.

It felt like a stab to the chest how quickly the city had seemed to forget them. Those who lost so much at the hands of Shion Aizawa.

Those who were lost.

They couldn't even be sure on the exact number of fatalities, but they had estimated somewhere around a hundred. And that didn't even include those who had been injured.

He came to rest on the roof of an office block and perched on the edge, legs swinging in the breeze. He remembers doing something like this with his dad years ago, before their lives went to shit.

His heart still clenches at the memories of that night. The unease. The anxiety. The loss. The pain.

His leg still hadn't made a full recovery, and doctors said it never would. It had been left in the broken state for too long, and from the battering he had endured with the bones snapped in half, friction had done its damned job and caused permanent damage. It wasn't supposed to inhibit his ability to complete Hero work, but it did mean he had a limp and it ached something shocking if not kept warm enough during the winter.

A year ago, one of the strongest men in Japan fell.

One minute he was taking a stand against evil and protecting his family with every fibre of his being.

And then the next... his fall from grace. From protector to attacker. Hero to Villain. Good to evil.

Father to stranger.

His hands curled into fists as the memories echoed throughout the cracks of his heart, the gaps in his soul.

He felt no shame in admitting he was broken. He had been broken before, but he'd had his new family to help piece him back together. No, now... he was alone.

Where there was once five, one more joined

And where there were six, two were lost.

Only four remained. The fragments of a livelihood, chipped and battered to the point where they couldn't fit together. Smooth edges became rough, and hope was diminishing with every passing day.

He let out a heavy sigh, the sweet release of his pent up pessimism.

He pulled the mask back over his slicked back hair and sweat drenched face, hopped off the edge of the building and swung away into the starless sky.

Just another night for a vigilante.

The Ringed Kamikaze.

*******

"'Zuku?" Neito padded down the hall, squinting against the early morning light seeping through the window at the end of the hall. "You up?" He knocked on the door gently, but when no response was given he pushed it open just a crack.

The curtains were still drawn and the room coated in an inky shadow. The silhouette of the boy lay dormant beneath of the covers, and Neito shook his head. "Oi." He poked Midoriya's shoulder. "Wake up." The boy didn't even stir. Neito sighed and looked towards plan B. In one swift movement, he crossed the room and threw the curtains open. "Rise and shine!"