now you see me

prologue

the screaming wouldn't stop. he couldn't get that smell out of his brain, the smell he didn't know. it was metallic. it was unforgiving. it hurt him.
he ran until his legs couldn't force him to run anymore. the fear heavy on his breath.
he could hear him. he could hear the one who was chasing him calling after him.
but he didn't stop.
and then time seemed to freeze. he fell and tumbled to the ground. in an instant, he felt something around his neck. somebody's hand. his breathing quickened, he knew he was going to die. he knew there was no way for him to escape.
there was a knife in front of his face, already covered in blood. his parent's blood.
at this point, he didn't even cry. he didn't struggle. he knew he couldn't even imagine getting away from his death. his own hands were bloody from cuts all over. as was his torso, bleeding into his shirt.
it was too bad. a hero couldn't come into somebody's house to save them. not if they didn't know he was in danger.
so the boy gave up. the knife near his face dripped blood that was both his own and his parents.
he gave up because he had nowhere to run to. he had nowhere to hide. nobody. the man with the knife had cut his face. pain ripped through his body. he screamed.
but something told him to stay awake. something told him to use it. this man didn't know him. he closed his eyes, and for anybody else, they would see him giving up.
"let me go." the boy hissed in his harrasser's mind. he had sworn he would never use his quirk, but right now, it was the only thing that would keep him alive.
"what the hell?"
his plan had worked. the man froze, his expression blank. the purple haired boy saw the look in his eyes, like somebody trying to escape from themselves. he'd seen that look too many times in the mirror.
"i'll say it again. let me go." he said, the panic no longer gripping his chest.
with zombielike movements, the attacker stepped off of him, dropping the knife he gripped in his hand.
he felt the all too familiar crimson liquid trickle to his mouth from the cut on his face.
he stood up slowly. he liked this power. he liked the masked fear on his face, though he couldn't explain why.
his indigo hair was wild, sweat causing it to stick almost straight up.
he glared at his attacker, kicking the knife all the way to the other side of the room.
a small headache came on, he knew if he used his quirk for too long, he wouldn't be able to control his thoughts. but if he let him go, the man would just attack again.
"leave. turn yourself in to the police. let them deal with you. don't ever hurt another person." he hissed. the man started walking away from him and out his door. he couldn't care less if the guy got hit by a car.
his eyes were brimmed with tears when he returned to the corpses of his parents, but he didn't want to cry. he'd done enough crying. he walked away from them, heading towards his room. when he passed by the mirror, he saw someone he didn't recognize. sure, it was him, but he was covered in blood. and it wasn't from his cuts.

he hated that dream. every night since his parents were murdered, he had a dream like it. this lasted for a year, which was a lot for a 11 year old.
zauru sighed, getting up. he shrugged that off. that all happened four or five years ago, it didn't matter anymore.
plus, they loved me as their own now. i was with people who understood me. all those years of bullying payed off.
i am going to make them eat their words.