Crimson Murders

Prologue

The day was cloudy. Dark clouds hung in the sky, bringing forth a harsh downpour of rain. The day couldn't get any worse, or so the woman thought. The harsh wind blew harder than before, bending the sturdy trees. Ever since they moved to this place, it's been one hardship after another. It was stressful, their lives, but the woman would rather have her own life stressful while her son's life stays joyful. The woman stared out the window, watching as the tops of the trees bend over and their limbs touching the ground as from the harsh, whistling wind. She jumped once the sound of lightning and rolling thunder crashed raucously overhead. Her green gaze settled on the dark hallway when she heard fast approaching footsteps. The woman sighed, knowing who it was and why they're out of their room. A green blur and then a weight on her lap. She ran her hand through the boy's green mess known as his hair. The booming of thunder crashed down, this one heavier and longer than before. Her four-year-old son flinched and curled up further into her. The woman looked out the window for a little longer, rocking her son and humming in means to calm him down.

  Looking down at him, she sees bright, bloodshot, green eyes staring past his bangs. He sobbed harshly, hiccuping and stuttering every now and then as he tried to speak, "Momma, they won't—they won't leave. I still see—still see—see them every-everywhere! I want them—they need to go!" It broke her heart, seeing her son in such a state. Ever since he was born, he'd stare off into space, or at someone—something—and burst into tears. She never understood why her son would react to nothing in such a way and it was heartbreaking when she found out.

  "Shh, Izuku, it's alright," she murmured. It wasn't okay. Things weren't okay with her son seeing these things that she couldn't see herself. How could everything be okay? "They can't touch you. They will never harm you, not as long as I'm around."

  She calmed him down to the point he fell asleep. She didn't need him to get sick. No, never again. How she remembered that day. That one day, he had gotten so sick, she rushed him to the hospital where she learned that he was overly stressed with fear. It was surprising, to say the least, that even the doctors were baffled with finding the boy—barely a toddler with a fear so grand that it caused him to get sick. When the boy awoke, eyes were wide and sweeping across the room, then the screaming begins with big fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He was leaning away from something that they couldn't see. He reacted well when someone has touched him, leaning into them and turning his head to look away from whatever he was seeing, but if no one was touching him, he reacted terribly. The two-year-old was seeing something horrific, but the doctors had no clue what. They wanted to say the kid was insane, but that would be impossible since babies' cognitive abilities, their thought processes, weren't fully developed yet. No way could a baby be showing symptoms of insanity. They came to the conclusion that it was his quirk. He was born with a quirk and they had no idea how to help him. They suggested for therapy once his cognitive ability was shown, or when he could speak. They also told her to go to the doctor's once he spoke, so they could evaluate the situation and run a few tests. They also told her to tell him to never speak to whatever he's seeing, it may not be a good idea for the kid to do that—even if it turns out to be his imagination.

  When young Izuku started speaking, they found out just exactly what was in the room. It was an honest mistake, the doctor asked him to describe the thing. They didn't know. They knew it was a ghastly thing, something so horrible that the child lived in fear every single day of his life. He gave them a hair-raising description, so thought out that they could almost picture it. One nurse had gotten sick and threw up when he got to the part that dealt with one or more limbs being missing, or even when these things were hanging out of their stomachs. The description was so detailed, they knew it couldn't be his imagination. They knew of his mother and how she was, she couldn't stand the thought of horror so they knew she didn't plant these ideas in his head. He was told to speak with it and it appeared, attempting to take the boy away. He was saved afterward, but the trauma was done. It was then when he had started wearing dark tinted sunglasses. He never took them off. He never wanted to take them off, he had finally found a way to get away from the creatures his mother called Ghouls.

  He was strictly told to never speak about this . . . ability with anyone. He never did, not until he started seeing shadows hanging onto some people. He never spoke to someone about it, but he told his mother. It wasn't until he touched one woman's shadow and saw her on a bed unmoving. He told the woman what he saw but she only shook her head and muttered about how something like that was not funny. It was not until later a man, one who he saw with the woman came, yelling at him and accusing him of something. He didn't understand what was being said, his mother, on the other hand, did. She told the man to leave and told Izuku to never speak to any adults who he didn't know. Never speak about these shadows. Don't touch them or tell anyone about anything if you do touch them.

  The only things that brought him joy was his mother and seeing his favorite heroes battle villains. Seeing them battle bad people sparked the dream to become a hero. He hoped to become a hero even if he had to deal with seeing these Ghouls, no matter what he wanted to always be there to help people. He wanted to prove that he was strong, that this ability would not hinder him. He was going to be one the best heroes ever.