Chapter 1 - Masks, Missions, and Old Ghosts
Another day, another string of missions finally ticked off the list. My limbs feel heavy, my bones ache like someone’s dragging sandpaper along them from the inside, and the familiar dull burn in my joints reminds me that I pushed myself a little too hard again. Not that I’d ever admit that out loud.
Even with the exhaustion, a small part of me craves chaos. Craves the distraction. Craves anything that keeps my mind from wandering into the darker corners it likes to hide in.
But God, these missions are boring. Repetitive. Pointless errands that a half-trained grunt could handle. Yet Shiggy insists I’m the one who has to run them, like I’m some fragile puzzle piece he refuses to risk misplacing. And Dabi? Yeah, he’s no help. He watches me like a hawk—protective, stubborn, infuriatingly older-brother-like.
Not that I can blame him. I get why he’s protective. I tend to be a bit careless. But still.
I’m slumped in front of the beat-up console in the base’s lounge when Dabi walks in. The room smells like burnt electricity and musty concrete—typical League atmosphere.
He leans against the doorway, blue flames flickering lazily at his fingertips like they’re bored too.
“Hey. Boss wants you,” he says, voice casual but eyes sharp, always scanning.
I shrug, not looking away from my game. “Kay, I’ll be down in a minute.”
He watches me for one more second—just long enough to be annoying—before heading out.
I pause the game, stretch my sore fingers, and make my way downstairs. The base hallway is dim, lit with old yellow bulbs that flicker like they’re about to give up. The concrete walls are cold, scattered with half-finished graffiti and scorch marks.
Toga and Twice are nowhere to be seen—probably terrorizing each other or the city. Kurogiri stands behind the bar like a ghostly sentinel, mist drifting off him in soft tendrils that swirl around the countertop.
I approach Shigaraki, who’s hunched over a table scattered with maps, files, and ramen cups.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask.
He tilts his head slightly, red eyes sharp despite the exhaustion etched into them.
“We need someone to go undercover at U.A.,” he says, voice eerily calm. “If our plan is going to move forward, infiltration is necessary.”
A cold ripple travels through me—half anticipation, half dread.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “When does this go down? I’ll need time to prep.”
“Within a week,” he replies. “Preferably sooner. But prepare however you need.”
I nod. No drama. No hesitation. Just acceptance.
But inside, my mind is a tornado. U.A. My former home’s shining jewel. My father’s pride. My twin brother’s cage.
I head back to my room, closing the door behind me. The worn, patchy posters on my walls peel slightly at the edges. My bed’s cluttered with clothing, vials, and weapons I’ve been modifying. I collapse onto it and exhale.
Going undercover means he might see me again. My twin. My other half. The one I haven’t spoken to since I left that horrible place.
Good thing I don’t look identical anymore. The hair dye has been doing wonders.
Hopefully, he won’t recognize me.
The Next Morning
I wake up feeling stiff, the kind of stiffness that screams I slept in the wrong position—or maybe that my bones just hate me today. Either way, it’s a “cane day.”
I throw on an all-black outfit—my comfort color. Today it’s a skirt, fishnets with a few tears, and a black shirt criss-crossed elegantly over the chest. Something about darkness wrapped around the body feels… honest.
I slip on my mask, grab my cane, and step out. The base’s air is cold against my skin, and I lean heavily on the cane as I walk through the dim corridors.
But outside? Outside is worse.
I bump into some guy loosely associated with the League—one of those wannabe tough types with too much ego and not enough brain.
I hit the ground hard.
“Hey, watch it!” he snaps.
I lift my head slowly, giving him a look sharp enough to cut glass. I see that he has dark brown hair and is wearing a plague doctor mask.
“Next time, don’t shove me to the damn ground, asshole.”
I stand and begin walking away, but he grabs my arm, yanking me back. His grip is tight, fingers digging into my skin.
“Heh. You’ve got an attitude, little girl. We should fix that.” His smirk makes my skin crawl.
My eyes darken—literally. A shimmer of shadow flickers across my irises.
“No way in hell.”
I twist, using momentum and rage to throw him against a wall. He hits it with a grunt and slides down—but gets up, charging like an idiot.
I vanish.
Teleportation leaves a faint ripple of darkness in the air, and suddenly I’m behind him. My shadows snap tight around his limbs, pinning him. Quartile Scutum forms in my hand—dark energy condensing into the shape of a sword.
I rest it on his throat.
“Who are you, and what do you want?”
He laughs—genuine, low, and unsettling.
“I’ve had my eye on you,” he says. “Name’s Overhaul.”
I stare at him like he’s sprouted tentacles.
“Of course you are. That doesn’t answer what you want, though.”
“I lead the Shie Hassaikai. And I want you to join us.”
I laugh. Loudly. Rudely. Purposefully.
“There will never be a time I join your pathetic organization. I may be a villain, but at least I have standards.”
I release him and walk away, leaving him to stew in humiliation.
~Time Skip — One Week~
A week of nonstop preparation. Training until my muscles screamed. Practicing my quirk until darkness felt like another layer of skin.
Now it’s exam day.
I dress in my best goth outfit—black ripped jeans, a stolen band tee, and my Demonia platforms, each one sporting a pentacle. My reflection in the mirror looks like someone who eats problems for breakfast.
For once, the pain in my body is barely a whisper. A good day. A lucky day.
The walk to U.A. is short, but the city feels suffocating. Heroes patrol the streets, oblivious and arrogant. I pass them without making eye contact.
I stopped believing in heroes the moment they let me fall through the cracks.
The moment I was stuck on the streets.
The moment they watched and did nothing.
The U.A. campus is massive, even bigger than I remembered. Clean. Gleaming. Like nothing bad could ever happen here.
A lie.
As I walk, someone slams into me hard enough to jolt my shoulder.
“Get out of the way, asshat,” he barks.
I stop. Slowly turn. Glare. Right into his bright red eyes, “You ran into me. Maybe if you watched where you were going, you wouldn’t look like an idiot.”
I walk off before he can reply. I don’t care about whatever comeback he thinks is clever.
The locker room is cold and sterile as I change into the gym uniform. It’s ugly. Uncomfortable. Definitely not my style.
The exam area is buzzing with energy—students stretching, sparring, cracking their knuckles. My fingers itch for the fight.
When the test begins, chaos erupts.
I sprint forward, using Black Star to yank a high-point robot toward me. The air distorts as darkness curls like smoke around my hand. The robot lurches toward me, metallic limbs screeching.
With a sharp breath, I summon Quartile Scutum again—its blade formed of swirling shadow, edges glowing faintly violet. One clean slash, and the robot crumples.
“That’s one,” I mutter.
I keep going—dodging blasts, teleporting short distances, striking with precision. My darkness wraps around my arms like living armor, humming with energy. I tear through bots left and right, losing track of time. Sweat drips down my face, and my chest burns from the exertion.
By the time the final horn blows, I collapse onto the pavement outside the arena.
Breathing hard. Muscles trembling. Drained.
A shadow falls over me.
“Hi! I’m Mina!” a cheerful voice says.
I blink up at a pink-haired girl with bright eyes and an even brighter smile.
“I saw your quirk! It’s super cool!”
I can’t help it—I smile back. A real one. Small, but real.
“Thanks. I’m Akina. And… I don’t really hear that often, so I appreciate it.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Akina! I hope I see you again!” She waves energetically and jogs off.
Her kindness leaves a strange warmth in my chest—foreign, uncomfortable, but not unwelcome.
~Time Skip — Two Weeks Later~
I’m lying on the couch, half-asleep, when something thumps onto my stomach. I sit up with a glare.
Dabi stands over me, smirking. “Mail.”
I look at the envelope. U.A.
My heart jumps.
I rip it open, and a disk falls out. The moment I slot it in, All Might’s giant, glowing face pops up.
I roll my eyes so hard they threaten to escape my skull. He felt the most fake, in my opinion. Always has a smile on his face. Saving people… yet he never saved me.
Still, I listen.
Accepted.
My pulse spikes—not with excitement, but with purpose.
The mission begins now.
All I have to do is earn their trust.
Then we take them down from the inside.