To become a hero—that was my dream.
To be like the hero I saw on the television screen, the one who looked just like All Might.
"I am here!—"
I didn't care about money, honor, or fame. I simply wanted to save people. I dreamed of being a hero who existed solely for the sake of others, just like All Might.
"I am he—"
...Until I learned the truth that rots at the core of reality.
"I am—"
"Is this location acceptable, Hero Killer… or should I say, Stain?"
I looked around as the man with the Warp Gate spoke. Scanning the familiar rows of buildings and the layout of the streets, I confirmed it was indeed the Hosu City I knew.
"There is no mistake. This will do."
"I'm glad to hear it. You are an ally for the time being. Should you require anything, do not hesitate to contact us. We are more than willing to lend you a hand—or a gate."
The true intent behind the Warp Gate's smile was transparent. There is no such thing as a free lunch; that much was obvious.
"Hmph. And what do you expect in return? Spare me your tedious negotiations. If a task suits me, I will do it. If not, I won't. It's as simple as that."
"The mere fact that you'd consider it is enough for us. We are honored, Stain."
I turned my gaze away from him, contemplating where to strike first. Just then, footsteps echoed as Shigaraki emerged from the portal, muttering to himself. "Hosu City… it's more developed than I thought."
The man, whose eyes never seemed to settle on one thing, looked at me. It was a silent question, asking what I intended to do. The flicker of potential I'd seen in him back then was gone from his expression now.
"Hmph… I will set this city right. But for that, more sacrifices are required."
Shigaraki tilted his head, seemingly unable to grasp the concept. "Is that the 'duty' you were talking about earlier?"
In contrast, the Warp Gate seemed much quicker on the uptake. He likely already had an inkling of my plan. In the first place, the only reason I'd entertained the League of Villains at all was because of him.
"You're a man who understands how things work."
"You flatter me."
As I spoke to the Warp Gate, I heard Shigaraki grumbling in the background: "Stop trying to pick a fight with everyone, ugh." I had no reason to indulge him, so I ignored him and moved on. I felt that if anyone could understand the necessity of my actions, it would be the observant man behind the mist.
"'Hero' is a title reserved only for those who have achieved great deeds. There are far too many of them now… these money-grubbing pretenders acting like legends!"
The Warp Gate remained silent, watching me, while Shigaraki scratched his neck with an air of boredom. I'd hoped the Warp Gate might truly understand, but it seemed I was asking too much. After all, our positions and our end goals were fundamentally different. Perhaps I'd grown greedy for understanding.
Well, I never expected to be understood easily.
The world is hideously distorted, and those who do not recognize what is 'right' far outnumber those who do. The two villains before me are proof of that, as are the crowds swarming below.
That is precisely why someone must show them.
By sacrificing one's body, life, and honor.
To bring an unchangeable truth to a fallen world.
"Until this world realizes its own error, I will continue to appear."
Leaving the two of them behind, I dove back into the shadows of the city.
I moved through the dim gloom, holding my breath, listening to the cacophony of those walking in the light. These shadows call to the distorted, and the distorted create the darkness.
Back in my youth, when I still aspired to be a hero, I loathed this place with a passion. I vowed that one day, I would end it with my own hands.
It's a story I can't even laugh at anymore.
For someone like me—who lost the right to bathe in the sunlight as the price for purging the heroes—this darkness is the only home I have left.
Listening to the noise of the city, I remembered the person I used to be.
That nostalgic, burning time when I was consumed by ideals.
When my heart pleaded against the distortion of society.
When my soul screamed for the image of a true hero.
But no matter how much I screamed until my voice gave out, or lamented until my soul was worn thin, no one answered. No one understood through words alone.
Why? How?
I thought about it constantly. How could I make them understand? How could I make everyone realize the truth?
After days of contemplation, I finally realized it.
People are indifferent to experiences that carry no pain.
Behind every revolution, blood has always been spilled. The more blood that flowed, the greater the feats achieved by the people who moved past it.
That was it.
What I lacked was sacrifice.
What meaning is there in a man with a whole body talking about pain? How much weight can the words of a person living in peace and safety truly carry?
So, I took up the blade.
I cut down the evil that permeated the world.
I slaughtered the fakes who distorted the meaning of 'Hero.'
I killed, and I killed, and I killed, and I killed.
The price was not light.
In the heat of battle, my face lost its original shape, and my body was covered in so many scars there wasn't a single inch of clear skin left. I lost my name, my past, my honor—everything I ever owned.
But in exchange, I gained something undeniable.
Some said I was a deterrent to criminals.
Some said heroes began to learn what was right because of me.
Compared to the price I paid, these were meager results—a tiny reward that deserved no praise. And yet, it was also a fact that I was changing the world in a way I never could when I was simply raising my voice.
If that's the case, then this is fine.
If the world wakes up through my sacrifice alone, that is enough.
If a true hero can exist there, that is all I need.
As the sun begins to set, the shadows in the city deepen. Soon, the morning for those who live in the shadows will arrive. The awakening of the denizens of the dark will begin.
Pulses, breaths, movements—everything starts to stir.
I heard a voice from out of nowhere. A young man's voice, devoid of even a shred of tension.
Peeking out from the cover of the alley, I saw a man standing there. From his outfit, I could tell he was a hero. Is he another money-grubbing fake, or is he someone worthy of the hero I once longed for?
"...Let's test you."
Justice without power is meaningless.
Power without an ideal is worthless.
To possess power, to uphold an ideal. To risk one's life for others without desiring reward or seeking fame—only a strong soul who does not succumb to evil is a hero.
Show me the answer. Show me if you are worthy of that title.
Hero.
+++
"Stain… so it was him after all. How nostalgic."
At my murmur, the Doctor rubbed his chin.
"Master, are you being sarcastic? Hmph, I never would have guessed it was that man… people certainly change. He is a far cry from who he used to be."
The Doctor seemed to think he had changed. Certainly, his appearance had shifted drastically, but from my perspective, he hadn't changed all that much. His thoughts, his ideology, his actions—all of them were exactly as they were before.
"...Though, I suppose he has become a much more interesting man than he was back then."
"Master, did you say something?"
"No, just talking to myself, Doctor."
I felt something from him that I hadn't felt before. A scent that I quite liked. Not bad at all.
I had thought about simply killing him if he turned out to be an enemy, but fortunately, he has promised to walk alongside Tomura. That shouldn't be a problem. I'll let Tomura use this opportunity to learn everything he can. Everything he currently lacks.
"But it's a reckless way of doing things, Master. Can he really grow? His words and actions are still those of a child. He throws tantrums; his thinking is shallow. Even this time, he ended up deploying three precious Nomu for no other reason than being annoyed… Isn't it about time? Shouldn't we start looking at someone else?"
"Haha. You have a point, Doctor. But please, try to look at him with a longer lens. His time is yet to come."
His distortion is the real deal. There is no one more suited to sit as my successor than him. He lacks the experience to become 'me,' but... well.
There is one person who comes to mind.
I picked up a single photograph the Doctor had given me. It was a photo with raised textures, designed so that even someone as blind as I could understand it. As my fingers traced the expression of the person depicted in the photo, I spoke my thoughts aloud.
"If you ever stray from that path, I would be more than happy to welcome you."
If that happened, I wonder what kind of face he would make?
If the person you were meant to lead came to me instead of you.
If you had to trade blows with the one you were supposed to protect.
"That wouldn't be so bad. Wouldn't it, ______?"
My whisper dissolved into the air, reaching no one's ears.
***
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