The air thickened, shifting ominously as shadows pooled and deepened, forming a rippling blackness that seemed almost alive. From the suffocating dark, a figure emerged—a man with his head bowed, one fist pressed to the ground, his posture exuding the solemnity of a knight pledging fealty.
"Welcome back, teacher," came the voice, reverent and steady.
Jin stood motionless, his eyes looking at the shadow his tone laced with irritation. "How many times do I have to tell you the same thing?"
Shihai raised his head, his lips parting as though to respond, but Jin silenced him with a dismissive wave. "It's fine—she's going to die."
Shihai's mouth closed, his expression unreadable. Bowing low, he averted his gaze, his eyes falling to the cold concrete floor beneath him.
The room's tension grew unbearable as Jin shifted his attention.
"And for you—"
A sharp gasp escaped the woman as Jin's hand shot out, grabbing her by the hair and lifting her from the chair with an almost casual cruelty. Her body trembled violently, her breath catching as his monstrous, reptilian eyes bore into hers. Even in her terror, she couldn't look away.
"If even a single hair of my people is harmed because of your lies or information," Jin growled, his voice low and venomous, "then I can guarantee you—what you just saw, will be mercy."
"Am I clear?!"
"Y-y-es," she stammered, nodding nervously. Her legs gave way as he released her, letting her collapse back into the chair.
Without sparing her another glance, Jin turned and began walking toward the lifeless body sprawled on the floor. "How is your training going?"
Shihai straightened slightly, his voice steady yet cautious. "I'm diligently working through your theories… and the other one, that too."
Jin paused, glancing at him with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. "What did Mahito say?"
Shihai's gaze lowered in deference. "It was through the Priest's will that I delved into the depths of da- my Quirk. . . I have passed his test—in glory, Teacher."
For a moment, Jin was silent, his expression unreadable behind the stark white mask. Then, faintly, a smile tugged at his lips. "Show me."
His hand extended toward the woman's father's body as he pointed a gun in the direction of the corpse. "Take his body."
"NO! PLEASE!, WAIT I-I!" The woman's desperate cries shattered the room's oppressive silence.
Her voice dyed down as she felt a blade or something cold hanging behind her neck Jin had his eyes still focused on his student "The dead are gone. Focus on those who remain."
His gaze shifted to the other two bag "Feed him to the pigs, and make sure the other two reach their place."
Shihai bowed low, murmuring, "As you wish."
He closed his eyes, focusing intently.
The muscles in his left hand tensed as his other palm pressed firmly to the ground.
A sharp exhale escaped him.
His breath steadied, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as an odd warmth coursed through his heart to his hand, like water sweat over his skin.
"Mirage!"
His hand phased through the ground.
The room transformed as pale yellow light replaced the faint white glow. The concrete floor turned blacker than tar, swallowing the faint traces of life in the room. Shadows, once scattered, flowed together, merging with the floor until they swirled like a living vortex—a harbinger of chaos, as if the gates of hell had opened themselves to the mortal realm.
Jin stared at his hands, the transformation a stark reminder of the boundaries he was beginning to cross. His pale skin had turned pitch black, the texture unnervingly smooth, as if he himself were becoming part of the shadows that churned around him. His bright red hair had gone stark white, devoid of its human vibrancy, like a bleached relic of something long dead.
The room felt alive, as though it had become a sentient entity feeding off the despair within it. The chair, the boots, the lifeless body, and even the figures still able to move began to collapse, swallowed by the writhing shadows that consumed the space.
Jin's lips twitched upward in a rare moment of pure, unrestrained elation. His eyes gleamed, catching the faint shimmer of light still flickering in the oppressive darkness. 'It's possible" he thought, the words almost sacred in his mind.
The woman sat frozen, her breath shallow and uneven. To her, the room had transformed into a nightmare, a realm devoid of hope or humanity.
The silhouettes of the figures before her. The blood pooling from her father's lifeless form dissolved into the inky black swamp, swallowed like a meaningless offering to this abyss.
The body bags, now stark white against the blackened swamp, writhed unnaturally, resembling massive worms squirming in the muck of a sewer.
Every sound was muffled, every color drained. Her mind buckled under the weight of it all. Defeat seeped into her, heavier than the air around her. She closed her eyes, unable to fight anymore.
Jin's voice broke through the silence "How much can you carry?"
His eyes flicked to the floor as his hand brushed the shadows pooling beneath him. It wasn't stable; it shifted constantly under his touch. One moment, it felt like water—its density fluctuating unpredictably. The next, it was like gas, a formless substance with a wild, chaotic temperature that burned and froze in equal measure.
His gaze shifted to Shihai, his expression briefly betraying surprise before he masked it with a sharp exhale. Behind Shihai stood the entity—a shadow that defied natural form. It wasn't merely an extension of Shihai's body but a separate being, monstrous and watchful, its sinister red eyes fixed on Jin.
"I haven't tested beyond twice my weight," Shihai replied, his voice steady, though his shadow seemed to ripple unnaturally. "The Priest insisted I focus on speed instead."
"Now's your chance," Jin said, his tone a mix of command and expectation. "Show me what you've got."
The demon behind Shihai moved suddenly, its elongated arm stretching upward, clawing at the air with an unnatural grace. As it shifted, the bodies of the three targets began to sink into the abyssal swamp. The viscous blackness pulled them under as though eager to consume them.
Jin felt an alien sensation, as though he himself were being dragged into quicksand, the darkness clinging to him with a will of its own.
Within moments, the bodies vanished, Shihai and his shadow retreating into the void as seamlessly as they had come. The oppressive darkness just vanished, and the pale yellow glow of the room's light timidly crept back into existence.
Jin stood still, his chest rising and falling as he processed what he had just witnessed. His usual composure was rattled, a faint tremor of fear mixing with astonishment. Even in his previous life, Shihai's Quirk had fascinated him. But now, seeing it evolve, seeing its boundless potential, stirred something deeper.
'Darkness' the word resonating in his mind. Not to be confused with shadows—Shihai's ability wasn't a mere manipulation of light and absence not in this world, It was something far more primal, an aspect of existence different than his world.
Quirks like Shoji's Dupli-Arms or Bakugo's Explosions were extensions of physical traits or chemical reactions—applications of fixed properties. But Shihai's power was raw, formless. Darkness wasn't a tool, it was a concept. An idea. . . who comes without limitations.
Jin's thoughts raced as he tried to quantify it. What qualified as darkness in this super natural world.
Was it the absence of light? A metaphysical space? The crushing weight of fear?
The potential was infinite, terrifying in its breadth. Even the simplest concept—strength, for example—were dangerous enough.
Was strength just muscle power? Speed? The force of a punch or a kick? Or was it durability? Even the aspect of the concept (strength) when broken down, could create something devastating like quicksilvers speed or hulks strength.
And here was Shihai, wielding something as vast and unknowable as darkness itself, yet he simple jumps in shadow, which could be very dangeros if used correct but then again.
It's like using gravity to bend spoons.
Jin's mind churned as he replayed the spectacle he had just witnessed. His student's power was a cruel mockery of what it could be—what it should be.
In the original, he was nerfed, Nerfed beyond recognition. A Quirk like his—darkness itself—and all they let him do is jump from one shadow to another? Shadow and darkness are completely different things!
His thoughts burned as he considered the potential left untapped, the boundaries shattered if Shihai truly embraced the nature of his Quirk. Darkness wasn't just a trick for evasion. It was vast, unknowable—a primal force this realization festered alongside another thought Mahito's mask, his nerdy dream coming to reality because of his friend.
Before he could dwell further, a voice rang out, cutting through the lingering silence of the room.
"Oh, and Teacher" voice spoke smoothly, almost tired. "Please don't forget the ceremony."
Jin froze, his head snapping back.
There was no one there.
His eyes narrowed as he scanned the dim room, his gaze piercing the shadows for signs of movement.
Nothing.
His expression tightened, suspicion mingling with curiosity. The woman, standing motionless and bloodied before him, didn't react. Her face remained blank, her spirit broken. She hadn't heard it.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
'I see' he looked down
"I'm talking through your shadow, Teacher" the voice continued, a hint of amusement laced in its tone. "I apologize if you find this rude."
Jin's lips curled into a wide feral smile. The shadows at his feet rippled faintly, the sound of the voice seeming to resonate directly in his mind.
"Quite the contrary." The smile lingered as he turned toward the woman, his movements slow, deliberate.
The woman trembled under his gaze, the faint flicker of light in the room casting her in a ghastly pallor.
His hand moved toward her, brushing her blood-slick fingers with a detached elegance, his tone growing softer yet more menacing.
"And do not forget." voice low but resonant "even in the darkest of night, there is a faint light."
"But" he step back as his eyes bore into her "for hurting a child, there is only plight."
"For the light." the voice intoned from shadow.
"For the light" jin echoed. 'A new yonkai'
----------------------------------------
Earlier the day.
A perfect world... or so it seemed. A world where heroes thrive in abundance, standing tall as beacons of hope, and villains retreat to the shadows. Yet, in the undercurrents of society, beneath the surface of this so-called utopia, ideologies clash and fester—hidden within the very breath of civilization. In this perfect society the smell remains.
The slums, much like one might expect, carry their own stench—a potent of neglect and decay.
To the untrained eye, to those with simple minds, this place reeks of trash.
Of filth.
Of impurity.
Society tells us it is home only to those who have fallen behind, the ones it labels the lowest of the low. That is the story we've been fed.
Just like the day, The beggar sat there, his hands broken and outstretched toward you. His gaze, hollow and pleading, sought only the faintest scrap of humanity.
But your mother pulled you close, tucking you protectively under her arm as though the very sight of him could taint you.
Without a word, she turned away, ignoring his existence entirely. You didn't understand then, but somewhere in the back of your mind the weight remains, until you like many before you suppress it to annihilation.
The slums—they're not just an unfortunate reality. They persist, flourishing in the cracks of this "perfect" world. Not every city can be Musutafu, the radiant home of heroes and dreams.
No.
Some cities are left behind. Left to rot. A festering reminder of the price of perfection
The slum stretches around a murky canal, its dark waters flowing sluggishly between towering, tightly packed buildings. The structures, worn with time and neglect, are a patchwork of cracked concrete and rusted metal pipes, with balconies jutting out unevenly.
Tangled power lines crisscross above, creating a chaotic web between the buildings, some drooping low enough to seem ready to snap.
Above the canal, narrow metal bridges connect the two sides, where shadowy figures walk in silence, their shapes blurred by the smoggy air. Small waterfalls spill from drainage pipes into the canal below, their gurgling sound lost in the muted hum of the slum.
On one side, glowing red lanterns hang from a building, casting faint reflections in the water and adding an eerie warmth to the cold, damp surroundings.
A boy stood silently, his messy black, spiky hair blending into the scene like he was another shadow among many. His tired, unwavering eyes scanned the hustle and bustle, a flicker of disgust lingering in his gaze—directed not just at the world around him, but at himself as well.
'Hero. . . a hero. . .'
His blackish-grey, worn-out hoodie made him indistinguishable from the concrete jungle. The dark circles under his eyes, once a mark of sleeplessness and isolation, now worked to camouflage him perfectly in this bleak urban sprawl.
"To think I was this. . . childish" he thought bitterly, his eyes locking onto a small group of children huddled in the corner of the street. Dirty, shivering, and barely noticed by passer by, they were just another part of the scenery to the people of the slum, too consumed by their own struggles to care.
'When will hero can save them' he thought, his feet moving almost unconsciously toward the children.
The kids stiffened as he approached, their wary eyes following his every step. Their tiny bodies shifted uncomfortably, instinctively preparing to retreat from this unknown stranger. He stopped a short distance away and, without looking at them, silently sat down on the grimy pavement.
From his pocket, he pulled out a slightly crumpled chocolate bar. The kids' wide eyes flickered between him and the bar, hunger evident in their gaze, though they dared not move closer. He tore open the wrapper with a soft _chis! chis!_ sound and broke off a piece, popping it into his mouth.
"Hmm, hmm... it's good, hmm." he murmured, savouring the taste dramatically, though his eyes remained half-lidded, distant.
The children watched, nearly drooling, unable to look away. Their fingers twitched, but still, they didn't dare approach him.
A soft Tring! from his pocket broke the moment.
He frowned, setting the chocolate down deliberately on the ground, just a little closer to the children, who eyed it warily. Pulling out a battered flip phone from his hoodie, he flipped it open. No new messages. His frown deepened.
Another Tring!
This time, his expression shifted slightly. His eyebrows rose as he looked around, scanning his surroundings. Slowly, his hand reached into the breast pocket of his hoodie and withdrew a small, stitched-up purse. Opening it carefully, he revealed a sleek, black screen with a keypad hidden inside. A hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he glanced at the sender.
Boss Lady: "Shinso, at the trust now!"
He sighed, sliding the device back into his pocket.
'If someone can change Arakawa, then it's us.'
He stood, brushing off his pants, and turned toward his destination. Before he could leave, a faint whisper caught his attention.
"Hu-ah mi-mister..."
He froze mid-step and turned slightly to see the two children. Their dog-like ears twitched nervously as they held the chocolate bar out to him. The boy with black hair hesitated before speaking again.
"Y-you forgot it" he stammered, as he raised the bar toward him, his smaller companion with gray fur peeking shyly from behind him.
Shinso's gaze softened. For a moment, he looked at them—not with pity, but with quiet understanding. His lips curved into a soft fake smile, and without a word, he shrugged off his hoodie and tossed it toward them.
"Keep it. . ." he started, his voice low and hoarse. His eyes dropped, almost imperceptibly.
"Just don't. . ."He paused, struggling to finish, the words caught somewhere between guilt and hope. Finally, he pushed them out. "The help is on the way. Please. . . don't give up."
Before they could respond, he turned sharply on his heel and walked away, faster than he intended, as if he couldn't bear to linger a second longer.
The children stared after him, clutching the hoodie in their tiny hands. It was worn and tattered, but warm—a rare comfort in their world. They bowed their heads slightly toward his retreating figure before slipping back into the corner, away from prying eyes, holding onto the chocolate bar and the fragile hope he had left behind.
----------------------------------------
Soft murmurs drifted through the air, bouncing off the muted, gray-blue walls. The room was an eclectic blend of a grand exhibition hall and a reception area, where clusters of teenagers gathered.
In the middle of room 4 leather sofa remained facing each other, Some lounged on them while Others stood, casting glances at the painting on display.
The mesmerizing paintings that adorned the towering walls. Each canvas was alive with such intricate detail that one could almost weave entire stories just from a single glance. The art had a magnetic, almost otherworldly quality that held the room in a silent thrall.
The largest piece was of a blue bull and a tiger fighting each other, on a what appeared to be a battlefield with crusaders remaining behind the tiger while the bull protected a group of small human.
"Didn't knew we also had an . . . art museum?" A boy with silver hair and a mask obscuring his face murmured. His limbs morphing into eyes that swiveled independently, inspecting every piece of art with an unnerving thoroughness.
"And that is exactly what's wrong!" Setsuna's voice cut through the air, sharp and bristling. Her arm shot out, fingers pointing accusatorily at the nearest painting. "Weren't we supposed to be helping people?! How the heck did these bastards got a museum—and all that money?! I told you guys, they are—"
"They have their own work to do rather than babysitting you" came a low voice from behind her, a boy with moss-green hair, skin tinged a matching hue, and two sharp, blade-like teeth, sat sprawled in a black chair. "Not that they would trust a loose mouth like you."
"The heck did you just say, insect bastard?!" Setsuna bolted upright from the sofa, her arms detaching from her body, each hand coiling with tension and ready to strike.
The boy's eyes narrowed, a derisive snort escaping his lips.
PUFF!
PUFF!
PUFF!
Three gleaming blades erupted from between his knuckles, catching the light in sharp, lethal flashes. "You want to go at it, lizardy?!"
Electric tension crackled between them, each poised to lunge. The room seemed to hold its breath.
"Relax guyssss, fighting is not gonna solve anything, we are already here so why fight now"
TAP!
Suddenly It felt as though the ground had liquefied beneath their feet, making them loose their footing.
"WHAT!?"
"DAMN IT!"
The floor rose like a slime monster covering their entire body in an instant.
TAP!
Before they could leap away or setsuna detach her body, it hardened, trapping them in place only leaving an opening for their face.
"Hehehhe I got 2 collection, you think they will they pay for this?" the boy giggled.
Poke! poke!
"Ohh this is really sturdy! setsu do you think you can wriggle wriggle out of it like a little mushroom?" a girl with brown hair and a rounded bob that reaches till her eyes pokes the mummified setsuna.
"KINKO! don't just stand there help me"
"And how will I do that?" she tilts her head while looking confused.
"JUZO! YOU BETTER UNHAND ME NOW!" Setsuna spoke as her mouth detached from her body flying toward him.
TAP!
"Nope! not happening hahhaha" the floor below him melted as he disappeared in the ground.
"Your control has got even better" a tired voice spoke while someone walks through the door.
Juzo poked his head out looking at the purple haired kid with dark bangs under his eyes "Ahh long time no see shinso"
Shinso only nods in return while he focuses on setsuna "Kamikari is right about that lizard girl, we didn't tell you everything. . . not that i am suprised seeing how you are "
Setsuna didn't say anything just raising her eyebrows.
"Hmm? did you knew about the money before hand." shoji asked as he peeled one of his eyes from the paintings.
Shinso gave a short nod "Yeah, and whose company do you think you and Manga were working for?"
"You mean they own Copycat? the one that made iron man, superman, hokage, vegabond, and others!" he turn all his toward Shinso clearly shocked "But then shouldn't we have more-"
"Short answer yes. . . we do own the copycat but that was caps private money. . . and it was a test to see what she will do."
"Tsk! dumass she clearly failed it didn't she" kamikari sneered
THOFF!
With a small bang the structure around him as thousand of blades which appeared more like thick plates of shiny steel burst from his body destroying his restraints while the entire room was covered in dust.
Cough! cough!
"Damn you grasshopper couldn't you warned us before hand" shinso waves his hand in front of his face as he tries to disperse the dust around him.
"You should have been faster" he smirked but then looked at his clothes. ". . . do you think they have extra clothes"
"But still, it's almost unreal to think about. Not only did we land a part-time job on copycat, but our seniors own the world's best—if not the fastest-growing entertainment company."
"Doesn't that mean we're rich now!? Ehehe mushrooms mushrooms im gonna buy all kinds of mushrooms!"
"Well, money certainly isn't one of our problems." A faint smile curving on his lips.
"Even if we didn't have much, we'd be alright. We're future heroes guys." juzo's fist emerged from ground showing a thumbs up.
The room was cloaked in silence—a heavy, suffocating quiet silence, right under their skin, prickling like a guilty itch.
The air hung thick with unspoken words, the kind that lingered on the edge of lips but never leaped off, weighed down by fear and shame.
"We didn't join for this." Setsuna's voice broke through the oppressive stillness. It was soft at first, trembling like the beginnings of a storm. Then her voice cracked, rising sharply. "WE DIDN'T JOIN TO HARM OTHERS!"
Nno one responded. The only sound was Juzo silently undoing his Quirk, his usually steady hands faltering. The weight of her words seemed to linger in the air, tangible and unbearable.
"We. . . we joined to do something better" she continued, her voice weaker now, as if she was struggling to hold her own resolve. A faint sheen of tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill but stubbornly held back. "We didn't. . . we joined to do better. . . not—not to cripple some kids!"
Her words landed heavily, but not everyone in the room was swayed.
"But they were his bullies—" the razor bo tried to justify, his voice shaky but defiant.
"Enough" Shinso interrupted, his voice cutting sharply through the tension. He raised a hand to stop the boy from continuing. His usual calm demeanor masked beneath the surface. Everyone knew the truth, the ugly, inescapable truth. Jin's had gone too far. It was all over the news—an incident too public, too damning to ignore.
The promise of a better future, of heroism, felt fragile now, like it could shatter under the weight of their collective silence.
And then,
Clap! Clap!
A sound shattered the tension.
The deliberate, slow applause drew all eyes to the entrance of the room. There, leaning casually against the doorframe, stood a woman.
Her large, voluptuous chest tied by a tight black tank top that revealed toned arms and shoulders. Her thick, chestnut-brown hair cascaded around her, each strand unnaturally dense. Her scowl was sharp, a permanent etch of irritation on her face, and her eyes pierced through them .
"The heck are you guys shouting for?" a rude indifference that made everyone in the room tense up.
Beads of sweat began to form on foreheads as her glare swept over them. Whatever courage or outrage had filled the room moments ago seemed to shrink under the weight of her gaze. No one dared to answer her, the once-simmering argument now replaced by an uneasy quiet.