Try Me, Bitch |BnHA| |Reader Insert|

Y/n: Mourn

I! REACHED! 100K! READS! IN! FOUR! MONTHS! WHAT! THE! FUCK!

~
People buzzed past you, talking, laughing, some crying. Lights were blurred, senses overloaded.

"Miss L/n." Tsukauchi walked up to you after talking to the doctor. You didn't turn to look at him. He wasn't even sure you were listening, but he continued anyway.

"Miss Red's heart was... completely destroyed. We think it was because of this." He held out her shredded notebook. "It's to our understanding her quirk allowed her to control reality by writing in this book. It could be that her soul was connected to this book, and it acted as a lifeline to her."

"... I can heal her," you whispered, "Let me see her... I'll heal her... it's not too late."

"It's been over three hours," he said softly, "It's too late. For anyone."

"No," you said, "No, I can do this, please let me. I can save her." You stood up, facing him. He just stared down at you, eyes filled with sorrow. For you.

"Y/n, it's just not possible."

"It is! You're just not giving it a chance!" You yelled, ripping the book from his hand. The lacerated cover made you turn your head to it.

"Y/n, if that book was connected to Author, then there's no way she's coming back. I'm sorry," Tsukauchi said, eyes locking to the floor.

"No," you said, "I refuse to—that bitch is pulling a Loki on us, I know it. There's no way that that's—that's possible..." You collapsed back on the chair. Tsukauchi sighed and bowed to you.

"I'm very sorry about your loss," he said.

"Don't be," you hissed at him, "She's not dead! I'll prove it to you, one way or another!"
Five stages of grief: Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.

Stage 1: Complete
Stage 2: Processing

~
Without a qualm, you marched into U.A., ignoring the looks students gave you, and went straight to Nezu's office.

"I need you to re-enroll me," you said, slamming your hands down on the desk.

"Your rehabilitation has only gone on a month—"

"I don't care when it started." You brought out Author's book and slammed it in front of him. You could see his eyes lower. "Author was murdered, Nezu. I need to get stronger, I need to learn."

"I may be the principal, but I haven't gotten permission to grant you an early enrollment," he quickly said, "I doubt they'd grant you it."

"Are there any tests coming up?" You asked. He seemed confused at your inquiry.

"The Provisional Hero License Exam, but you can't—"
That's all you needed to hear. Grabbing the book, you left his office. Looking down at your wrist, you scowled at the metal attached to it.

'I need to get this off.' You set off towards them.

'Only one person I can think of.'

~
"I need to you get this off." It wasn't a request, it was an order.

"Huh? Why me?" He asked back, staring up at you. You sneered at him.

"Don't play dumb, No Tits, I know what your quirk is. Author told me."
He continued to stare at you, red eyes piercing into yours, but you didn't flinch.

"Why should I do it? What's in it for me? How did you even find me?" It was a warning. Back off.

"I don't need a quirk to kill you, you know," you said, "It's a simple favor, Shigaraki." You grabbed his arm and flipped him over your shoulder, holding him down with your legs.

"Either I break your arm—" You held it in an armbar, pulling it back slightly. You felt his legs kick out of reflex. "—or you get this stupid thing off me."
A few pained groans later, Shigaraki yielded.

"Fine, I get it, but get off of me."
You released him and stood up, holding out your hand. Grumbling under his breath, he placed all five fingers on it. The metal turned to rust and slowly disintegrated into a pile of dust. Decay comes in handy.
You rubbed your wrist.

"Thanks," you said, "I owe you one. Contact me if need be." You left him alone, now free of any authority tracking.

~
Homura Awaji. A nobody from Seijin High School. Quirk unknown, age unknown, appearance unknown—everything about her was utterly unknown. How do you know all of that? Let's just say... you went to a deeper, darker part of Japan and—

"I swear, if you don't get information on a no one-student I will rip your throat out and sew it back together myself."

And that's how you got the information. 

Appearance is unknown—no one cares. Looks are up for your interpretation.

So that's why you're in a party store looking for wigs and contacts. A hat was securing your eyes and you wore baggy clothing. Sunglasses were also a part of your apparel.

"Can I help you with anything?" The worker walked up to you.

"Nah, just browsin through these until one snatches my weave," you reply.

"Oh, well if you need help, I'll be more than happy to help," he said with a smile. You turned back to him and smiled.

"Thanks. I'll let you know." He nodded at you before leaving to go back to the register.

'Sike.' Without looking, you grabbed a wig, contacts, and zoomed out of the store faster than his eyes or any camera's could catch.

~
Getting rid of Homura was easier than you thought. All you did was lure her into an alley by meowing. She was easy to dispose of. Homura wasn't anything special. Which is why she wouldn't be missed.
So when you're standing in front of a mirror, wig and contacts in, you filled her role. You became Homura Awaji.

You are Homura Awaji.

Y/n L/n? Who's that? From what I know, she's dead. All but a mere fragment pushed into the back of your mind. Broken, forgotten, invisible.
Something inside of you split.

"Homura... Awaji," you said quietly, looking at your reflection. "Welcome. You're our newest addition." You looked down at Author's book.

"And you're gonna help us."

Ja ne!

{Ruby Red}