My Hero Academia x Readers

False Conviction: Shinso x Reader Part 1

Requested by iciclesthecat who won first place in my latest writing contest

Reference Found!
Danganronpa Reference!

White. Bricks of snow white made up the walls in perfect alignment, grout that was once grey were painted over to match giving the feel that they could illuminate the room. Reason why you say this was due to how dimly lit the room came off to be, the ceiling dome light had two out of three light bulbs burnt out, the remaining flickered yellow just tregging along until the filament would give a few hours from now.

There was a teenage girl who sat at the steel table that stood directly in the middle of the room, one leg kicked over the other, fingers that tapped the surface in a rhythm. She was dressed in the clothes she arrived in, a grey school uniform that made up a dress shirt, grey overcoat, and a pleated skirt. They used to be clean and free of wrinkles, now tarnished with tears and scuffed up with dirt and dust. She couldn't help but stare at her own reflection within the one-way window that made up the entirety of one wall. She knew that on the other side, people were watching her every move, meanwhile she couldn't see anything besides her own self.

I'm sure you're wondering how you got entrapped within an interrogation room without rhyme or reason. Being you were denied an answer upon arrest, disrupting a class in order to take your being into custody. Well, nobody can really answer you at the given moment. Maybe everything was a mistake, mistaken as someone else. There was always the possibility that this was just a case hearing for a crime you've witnessed, then again you don't recall ever witnessing anything illegal. Were you a victim perhaps, maybe even a culprit to a crime you're not even aware of...

You jumped slightly after a small start of the heart to the steel door of the interrogation room opening without a warning. You didn't hear the knob turn nor a click of the locking mechanism, perhaps it was a one way door just like the window? At this point anything was a possibility. A well built man in a police uniform stood before you, his eyes were red like rubies, pale grey pupils, and raven hair that ghosted his eyebrows. He was frightening to say the least, even more than Mr. Aizawa. Does he have a have a brother? If so, you couldn't find any reason to deny their heredity.

"Ready to talk Miss (Y/n)?" The officer asked rather nicely despite his frightening exterior.

"May I ask what I'm in here for?" You hesitated to ask in return. You felt all so oblivious to what was going on, shut out from the world, stuck within a room with no way out.

The officer cleared his throat, glancing the opposite direction with a hint of irritation notable from his features. You took notice he wasn't wearing a nametag like most officers should, instead, all that was on his left breast was a darkened patch of fabric and two small squares of velcro. He purposely took hid his identity. "Just explain what you were doing last night between 1pm and midnight," the officer asked of you.

It was a question you could answer, but won't. "I'm sorry but until I'm aware of what I'm detained for, I'm not speaking," it was a simple request really. Just tell you what happened and you'll gladly answer him with what you know. So, you laced your fingers together, leaning back in your chair awaiting an answer.

"Fine," the officer huffed. "We have photographic evidence of you slaughtering teenage heroes in training last night..." The man unbuttoned the first few buttons on his navy blue uniform shirt, one hand slipped within and pulled out a thick half folded stack of papers with colored ink visible from their backsides. The man lied out each paper before you, you remained speechless.

On photo one was a blonde haired boy, he used to have eyes as blue as the ocean but were now ghosted over with grey, now lifeless. His stomach was cut open, his inner works were pull out from his stomach cavity and draped around his body in a grotesquely artistic way as if the intention was to be like a floral frame. There was a girl who stood over his body, staring directly up at the person or camera who captured this vital piece of evidence. That girl was you, no doubtedly you...