Yuka Amane was assigned by pro hero Endeavor to befriend his son, Shoto Todoroki in order for Yuka's powerful quirk of wielding the sun to be merged with Todoroki's fire and ice.
Todoroki thought he had met someone who understood him like none othe...
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"You see? Even you know that someone like you can't be loved by the ordinary. Come join me."
It was the same dark environment she had seen the day before the final written exams. She was unable to move, unable to scream as All for One approached her. He had no eyes, yet she could still feel his gaze piercing through her body.
"Shoto Todoroki could never love you the way I do. Could he accept you if he knew you were a nomu?"
He knows! She wanted to yell back. But she couldn't move a single muscle of her body.
"You may think he knows. But once he sees you in your true form, grotesque like those creatures he has learned to hate... will he still want you? Will he still lean in for the kiss?"
She saw herself, her eyes wide in petrified fear in her own dream. She watched her face morph, her eyes glowing a white so blinding it seemed to consume all of her body. There were cracks appearing along the visible skin that was her arms and legs, splintering open.
Blood dripped out.
Her wings became broken and bent behind her, twitching unusually as they flared out to become even bigger than they were before, duplicating until she was covered head to toe in feathers.
Her hair seemed to grow. Longer. And longer. And longer until her grotesque, mangled body was being choked by her hair.
"Tell me. Would he still want you? Would anyone still want you?"
Her glowing eyes bulged and blood dripped down her face.
"I'll answer for you." He smiled. "I would."
Yuka woke up, her body drenched in cold sweat. She panted slightly, shaking herself off and reminding herself it had just been a dream. Her hands sank into the bedding around her, grounding her. Her bottom lip trembled, and she felt a wetness slide down her neck.
She had been crying.
It was the same dream. Everynight. It repeated every single night after the festival. It had been a week.
She ran to the bathroom to stare in the mirror. She was herself, albeit the pale skin and dark circles.
But she was still herself.
But then she saw her face morph just as it had done in the dream. Her throat burned as she felt bile rising. She lifted the toilet seat and released the contents of her stomach into it, coughing as she felt the pure emptiness of her stomach.
