MHA: Harbinger of Fear - Male Reader x Midnight

Part 42

Y/N's eyes were shut and yet he could still feel the world around him. It was burned into his mind, painting him a clear picture that was no longer there.

The air was free, missing the whistle of wood or a chime ringing with a clink of metal. And it was cold, a solemn reminder of the warmth that was lost.

Years ago he would play in this field of grass. Except back then this wasn't a field nor a flat patch of dirt. There was once a home here and nestled just over twenty meters to its left was a barn.

The atmosphere was never truly quiet or void of life. There was always a bug chirping or a few sheep buzzing about. Y/N even remembered a dog, a small and aged blue heeler who was in his twilight years.

If there was ever a time the dog needed to see a veterinarian, he would see Rachel shortly after. Then maybe Chris for a seemingly unending list of chores.

The simple life. A quiet one. And a family. Y/N knew it should have torn him to bits, right here and now.

It was an entire painting when he shut his eyes, filled with color and serenity he missed dearly. And when he opened them, it was gone.

The house and barn were consumed by flames, turning everything inside to ash. In its roaring presence, he was keenly aware of the dog inside, trapped. And no more than a meter away was Samuel, dead. His heart and anything in front of, or back of it, was destroyed.

He didn't remember crying, he remembered thrashing about, screaming, and yelling. He did everything he could to try and escape but he could never muster the energy to do so.

It was easy to lose yourself in such rage. He felt that if he let it all go it would ascend to something else entirely, perhaps creating the weapon Shigaraki always wanted.

When he shut his eyes again, he remembered a face telling decades of experience with wrinkles and a few liver spots. And then there were eyes, orbs so cold they could rival the winter air and fallen snow.

Samuel was a rock, a man whose only purpose was to raise two boys into men. He lived his life as he did in death, strong, fearless, and with not a speck of malice in his cold, brown eyes.

The weather began to get to the lone hero, bringing goosebumps under his dark costume. His energy had dispersed, leaving him with nothing more than a calm rage and an ice-cold demeanor.

He stood from his meditative position and bowed his head, offering his respects to the field of grass that soon became a drop of green in an ocean.

For a moment, he let the absence of sound consume him, covering him in a sheen of ice on one half while the other was touched by the scorching sun.

He enjoyed the weightlessness, solitude, and the stars for however long he could. For the longest time, he thought he would be untouchable up here, but he never took into account the many heroes America had to offer.

Surrounded by a telekinetic bubble containing the precious oxygen he needed, was Captain Celebrity. America's former number-one hero.

The pro-hero pointed his finger back down to earth, only suggesting that they go low enough for the sound to travel through a now absent atmosphere.

When Y/N could feel the thin air, he heard the hero speak with his usual winning smile.

"Sorry, pal." He crossed his massive arms, giving a more pretentious air than a hostile one. "This is restricted airspace."

"Right." Y/N responded with little pleasantries. "I'll be out of your hair."

"Now hold a minute." The Captain held a hand up. "I'm gonna need you to answer some questions."