(Todoroki Shoto x Reader x Midoriya Izuku.)
Poly!
-BOOK ONE of the Lush Life series!
*Please point out grammar errors, English isn't my first language.
•
I had known of the rumors, he was supposed to be a cursed being--something unwanted and maimed...
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—Third Person POV.—
More debris fractured above—raining stone like meteors—just as a shape tore through it in a burst of verdant lightning.
Izuku hit the ground hard, a snarl caught behind clenched teeth as momentum skidded him across the ruined floor and slammed him into the far wall.
His lungs burned.
The voices in his head screamed in layered unison.
A dozen instincts surged through his limbs as he shoved himself upright—his attention snapped upward as another shadow slammed through the wall, consequently widening the hole, and sending more debris into the mountain.
The impact made a shockwave erupt beside Izuku, kicking up dust around him—and upon squinting through the haze, viridescent caught the crumpled figure against the jagged edge of the wall.
Blood spilled from Bakugo's lips in shallow coughs.
The large blade skewered clean through his torso, driven deep into the stone and pinning him there—his crimson cape was in tatters, fur damp with blood and soot.
The sun is bleeding through the cracked ribs of the mountain above—its light catching on jagged rock and filtering in golden rays that slice across the lake like spears.
Shigaraki stands at the edge of it all—his silhouette cast long and monstrous by the amber streams behind him, framed in the gaping wound they'd torn through.
His glare fixes on the man—the voices heightening blindly in their demands.
"Kill him."
They echo, warble and layered—some are gentle while are screaming. Others had grown cold and bitter, ancient with hate.
Their voices churn, grinding together like rusted gears in the cavity of his skull—his canines feel like they're grounding into each other as he grits his teeth, fingers twitching.
"He'll kill them all—tear him down."
It's all so potent in his brain, Izuku never even took notice of the way the world suddenly didn't seem too bright anymore—it's like he'd suddenly gotten a veil draped across his face, hiding all of the features he hated so much.
"You were chosen and what you are now will never change that."
Glowing eyes reflected the light around him, as if a mirror had formed in their sockets—opaque and gleaming like cracked glass.
"No one else will survive unless you do this."
Izuku doesn't move—but his hand rises.
The sword still lodged in the rock, skewering his friend like a grotesque banner, begins to tremble.
And then it moves.
The blade slides, slow and grating, back through flesh and stone—deep crimson trails behind it in thin strings, stretching like thread before snapping and splattering down the rocks.
