" 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙀𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙝'𝙨 𝙂𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙒𝙚𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙣 𝙄𝙨 𝙈𝙮 𝘽𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠 "
If You're Looking For A Love Story, A Healthy Family, And A Totally Non-Chaotic Plot Line, GET OUT. Instead, This Is Hitomi Todoroki, our fierce, brilliant...
Maybe then, I'll fade away And not have to face the facts It's not easy facing up When your whole world is black
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A land lit by one hand, blue fire elapsed over the trees, minimal compared to the forest's vast vicinity but a great maze to those stuck within it. It's heat surpassed that of a normal bonfire or that of fireworks, the burning wood creating the thick masses of polluted smoke, the whoosh of the fire creating enough power to let it roll across the ground. In the middle of it all were two villains, conspiring together to achieve their little clan's goals.
Seen before by our beloved on-lookers was the stranger we'd encountered the last few chapters. The strange man's skin was a mix of a normal tone and purple scarring, the only thing holding them together being the staples that pierced his skin. For a relatively young man, his appearence gave off the impression of a criminal or mafia member, with the way his eyebags were presented by the same purple scars that stretched over the lower portion of his face. His eyes, luminescant like the ocean, matched the fire he used to torment his enemies.
He'd never hurt or killed for pleasure but there was a particular fond feeling when he imagined his one true enemy, his own story's villain, cowering before his feet, beaten by his hands. The pain, oh the pain that reminisced with him every single day when he sneezed, slept, and ate. The shift in his staples, the ignition of his flames, a mere blink; that pain made him feel like a god. There was no consequence for a god's actions, only victory. One way or another, if he had to die he'd bring that one true enemy with him. They'd enter Hell together for a final dance before judgement and an eternity of torture by the devil's hand.
There was a grin that creeped onto his face, a little dream painted in his eyes, a symphony that would debue his grand finale. A moment of exquisite bliss that should've lasted the mission turned out to be worth a mere 32 seconds.
In the distance was a cry like tragedy, like the scream of a child ready to wail and cry to their mother or father. He, Dabi, recognized agony like that. In the distance was a cry of terror with an insufferable thirst to live. That scream knew no one was coming, or at least, never had someone come before. Eyes that once gleamed with passion turned a shade darker, that passion turning into something a little more demented. Love, to the one that deserved protection.
