So this request was from the amazing Kirbythedino
"When I was a child, my world was a mystery shrouded in tales my grandfather told me. He claimed my parents had simply left my brother Muichiro and me in his care, vanishing without a trace. For years, I clung to that narrative, believing that our parents had abandoned us, their faces and their reasons unknown, as there were no photographs or mementos to connect us to them.
Our lives were otherwise simple and happy, filled with the everyday adventures of children. Muichiro and I would spend hours playing outside, imagining ourselves as the heroes of our stories. My grandfather, the Number 6 hero at the time, was our idol. He was the epitome of what we wanted to become, and his presence filled our lives with hope and determination.
One summer day, our lives changed in a way that neither of us could have anticipated. We were in the backyard, playing a game where we pretended to save the world from an imaginary villain. Muichiro had always been a bit more reserved than me, often lost in his thoughts, but that day something extraordinary happened. As he reached out his hand in a dramatic gesture, a thick mist began to emanate from his body, swirling around us like a ghostly fog.
We were stunned. Excitedly, we rushed inside to find our grandfather, eager to show him Muichiro's newfound ability. His eyes lit up with pride and curiosity as he examined the mist, which seemed to respond to Muichiro's emotions and gestures. "It's incredible, Muichiro!" he exclaimed, ruffling my brother's hair affectionately. "A quirk that can produce mist... This is a rare gift."
In the days that followed, I watched with a mixture of awe and envy as our grandfather devoted himself to helping Muichiro understand and control his quirk. They spent hours together, experimenting with the mist and discussing its potential uses. I felt a pang of jealousy, wondering when my quirk would manifest and hoping it would be just as amazing.
My wish came true sooner than I expected. Only a few days later, while playing outside again, I felt a strange sensation in my chest. As I concentrated, a dark, sinister mist began to seep from my pores, wrapping around me like a poisonous shroud. Unlike Muichiro's mist, mine had a noxious, almost malevolent quality to it.
Before I could call for our grandfather, Muichiro started coughing violently. The mist, it seemed, was not just a visual spectacle; it was deadly. In a panic, I tried to withdraw it, but it only seemed to intensify. Our grandfather, hearing the commotion, rushed out and quickly intervened, using his own quirk to neutralize the poison and calm the situation.
The very next day, we visited a quirk specialist. The doctor, a stern-looking woman with a quirk that allowed her to see the flow of energy within a body, examined me thoroughly. Her diagnosis was grim. "Yuichiro, your quirk is extremely dangerous. It's a toxic mist that can cause severe harm or even death. You must be very careful and avoid using it unless absolutely necessary."
Her words felt like a curse. The gift I had eagerly awaited was now a burden, a dangerous weapon that I had to keep sheathed. I was heartbroken, and my resentment grew as I watched my brother continue to receive our grandfather's attention and training. Muichiro was being groomed to follow in our grandfather's heroic footsteps, while I was left on the sidelines, a potential threat to those around me.
As the months passed, the distance between Muichiro and me widened. Our grandfather seemed to forget my existence, his focus entirely on nurturing Muichiro's abilities. I could disappear for days, and he wouldn’t notice. Muichiro, ever the peacemaker, tried to reach out to me, but my bitterness had taken root too deeply. I resented him for having a quirk that brought him closer to our grandfather and pushed me further away.
In my solitude, I began to train my quirk in secret. I would sneak out to the mountains, far from civilization, and experiment with the poison mist. Over time, I learned to control it, to shape it and gauge its effects. I discovered that its toxicity varied—some people were immune, while others could be incapacitated or killed almost instantly. This knowledge was both empowering and terrifying.
When our grandfather eventually discovered my clandestine training, it led to a fierce confrontation. I was twelve, filled with anger and a desperate need to prove myself. Our argument was explosive, filled with accusations and harsh words. He couldn't understand why I would risk using such a dangerous quirk, and I couldn't forgive him for ignoring me in favor of Muichiro.
That night, I made a decision. I packed a small bag with essentials and sneaked out of the house. The streets were eerily quiet as I wandered, my emotions a turbulent storm. I was determined to find my own path, to become a hero despite the cruel twist of fate that had given me such a perilous power.
My journey led me through the dark alleys and abandoned corners of the city. As dawn approached, I stumbled into someone, knocking both of us to the ground. Blinking in surprise, I looked up to see a girl with striking features. Her skin was pale with irregular patches of brown, a condition I later learned was vitiligo. Her eyes were an enchanting combination of pastel purple and blue, and her hair was a wild mix of white and pastel blue, cascading around her shoulders in a messy but endearing manner.
Her name was Tsukuyomi Tsuki. Like me, she had been abandoned, left to fend for herself. Tsuki's quirk was as extraordinary as it was dangerous—she could generate hellfire, a blue flame that could incinerate anything it touched. She had left her quirkless family behind after her powers emerged, feeling alienated and feared by those who couldn’t understand her abilities.
Tsuki lived in a small hut on the outskirts of the city, a place she had fashioned into a makeshift home. With nowhere else to go, I accepted her offer to stay with her. Our bond grew quickly; we were both outcasts, united by our extraordinary quirks and the rejection we had faced. Together, we eked out a living, always on the fringes of society, but we found comfort in each other's company.
We spent years struggling to survive, often scavenging for food and avoiding those who might turn us in or exploit our powers. Despite the hardships, we honed our abilities, turning our quirks into tools of survival rather than weapons of destruction. It was a harsh existence, but it forged a bond between us that was as strong as steel.
Our lives took another turn when we learned about the League of Villains. A news broadcast showed their rise, and we saw in them a potential place for us—a group that might understand and accept us, where we could use our quirks without fear of rejection. Joining the League seemed like a natural step, a chance to find a purpose and a community that could finally embrace us for who we were."
As I finished recounting my story to the other League members, the room fell into a thoughtful silence. We were gathered in the bar, a favorite haunt for these ragtag villains. Laughter and banter usually filled the air, but tonight my tale seemed to cast a reflective mood over the group.
"Damn, Misty," Daki said, breaking the silence with a smirk. "I didn’t know you and Two Tones over here had such a history together."
Tsuki bristled at the nickname, her eyes narrowing. "Call me Two Tones again, and I'll rip that stupid handpin out of your hair and shove it up your a—"
"Alright, alright!" Akaza interrupted, raising a hand in mock surrender. "How about we settle this with a drinking challenge? Who thinks they can chug this whole thing of beer?"
The tension eased as laughter erupted around the table. Tsuki shot me a sideways glance, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of annoyance and affection. Despite everything, we had found our place here, among people who might be villains in the eyes of society but were comrades to us.
As the night wore on, the camaraderie in the bar grew. Our stories, though filled with pain and struggle, had brought us closer, forging a bond among the League members that was hard to break. Despite the darkness of our pasts and the dangerous paths we walked, we had found something that resembled a family—a place where we belonged.
YOU ARE READING
demon Slayer oneshots (Mainly Muitan)
Fantasyit's in the title want more information read the first chapter