Ghost - an MHA fanfiction

A twist of fate at the twist of a knife

As more and more people flood into the market, the light becomes too little to illuminate them, and shadows begin to curdle by the walls, advancing like a rash towards the first line of tables. It is becoming harder and harder to weave around people without bumping into them, and my quirk is slowly but surely wearing me down, thinning my levels of concentration.

The further I walk into the market, the more things start appearing that weren't there before. Little alcoves and alleys lining the walls on either side of me. Wide, horrendously deep fighting pits where crowds cheer and brawlers lie bloodied and beaten. I realise that this isn't just a business, it's a community, one riddled quite literally with blood sweat and tears. It is the epitome of what heroes in this country stand against, but for me it is easy to watch.

I know very well some of the things people resort to when they have no money to throw at their problems. It has been only the convictions of my teenage self that have kept me from turning down darker roads - roads such as this.

I've watched the videos of Tomura Shigaraki, and the all-famous broadcast of Dabi's - Toya Todoroki's - confession. I see the madness in the eyes of those villains. But I also see conviction. I see hardship and loneliness. I don't feel sorry for them. I don't want to help them. I don't wish that anyone else did. But unlike so many others, it doesn't pain me to look - to see - that despite all the horrible things those villains did, they were still fighting for something. It doesn't hurt to know that we are being unfair - picking right and wrong based on the majority vote, creating a society ruled by the ones whose voices just happen to be stronger. If there were more villains like Shigaraki than heroes like All Might or Red Riot, the world would be structured on their ideals.

I wonder why anyone hasn't already thought of that.

My head has begun to throb from using my quirk for this extended period of time, and I'm getting dizzy. But I can't just let go now. Not in this crowded area full of well-muscled men who could crush me bare-handed. Men who could wrap their fist around my throat with their fingertips touching.

One of the alleys off to the side might provide some shelter for me, but greater danger could lurk there as well.

Screw it. I need to deactivate my goddamn quirk before I hurl my guts up. I may be invisible but I'm not inaudible. If I blow my cover there is a 99.999% chance I will be dead in a fraction of a second. Everyone has their own opinions about what a cool death looks like, but this is not mine.

I approach the closest alley, covering my mouth and clutching my gut. If I vomit I swear to whatever god is watching I will tear this entire market down.

I stumble into the darkness, groaning as my thoughts begin to drift and scatter like bread crumbs for birds. I feel like I'm walking through mud, and my world is starting to spin. As soon as the light of the market is out of sight, my quirk deactivates with another blinding flash of light and I double over. It feels like I am scrambling my own insides as I throw up onto the damp pavement. I'm probably ruining my very expensive skirt with whatever hideous things cover the ground but I can't see through the tears stinging my eyes.

And when there is nothing left in me, I fall back against the wall, coughing and choking and rubbing my eyes furiously. I try to slow my breathing down, letting the air come easier, despite the fact that it makes my lungs feel like they are exploding in my chest. The ache between my brows lessens, and I sigh and the cramping in my stomach ceases and the alley goes silent.

I need to find a way to get out of this place without being seen. If I activate my quirk again now, I'll be a goner, and if I stay here for long enough, someone is bound to find me and hurt me in ways I can barely stand to imagine.