Summary: "What is your quirk?"
"Catalog."
That was… quite the underwhelming name, and he told him so.
The boy let off a small peal of laughter. "It's supposed to. My quirk provides me a 'catalog' of one hundred quirks that I have access to, and I can pick three a day. I go 'shopping' from my mental 'catalog' of quirks. Get it?"
Two hours later, Todroki Akuma was moving into his new home.
Chapters: 7
Word Count: 40,000
Status: Ongoing
Link: https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/twisted-worm-mha-si-fanfic.101683
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
It wasn't often that Endeavor had anything to do with children. Mostly it was because he found that a majority of them were annoyances that ate up attention that could be used elsewhere. However, his PR agents had informed him that he needed a boost in his reputation with the public. Which was why he was here in Hosu, at a dilapidated orphanage rather than training Shoto, or advancing his own skillsets. The matron had been very happy to see him.
The children had not.
Half an hour later, he was annoyed, (and slightly concerned) with how the children were cowering from him as he gruffly read them a story. He was sure if that buffoon were here, the reception would've been completely different. He was just about to give it up when one of the younger boys cautiously approached him.
"Um, Endeavor sir?"
"Yes child?" he answered back. The boy flinched at his voice but pressed on.
"Heroes… heroes kill monsters, right?"
That was a strange question for a child to ask.
"Usually, yes, we do."
The boy's face brightened. 'Then, can you kill the demon? He-!"
"Takeyo!" In an instant, the matron was there, dragging the boy away, a stormy look in her eyes. 'All right everyone, that's enough for today! Go to your rooms, now."
The children quickly filed out until it was only left with Endeavour and the matron.
"I am so sorry about that, Takeyo is just very gullible, and he tends to listen to the older children, irrespective of whether they're lying or not," the matron apologized. "I will personally have a talk with him on why that kind of language is not acceptable."
"It's fine," he said brusquely. "It's just… what was this demon he was talking about?"
The matron sighed as she crossed her arms. "It's not a demon he's talking about. At least, not a literal demon. He was referring to one of the children. He's named Akuma."
"Akuma? What kind of parent names their child devil?" he asked, perplexed.
"His parents died in a very vicious villain attack, where he was the only survivor. His uncle, who was grieving at the time, named him that because the child's Quirk activated and
protected only him… not his parents. I've been trying to get him to change it, but he refuses."
Slowly, Endeavour nodded, It wasn't the first time he had seen adults blame children for having powers that were out of control. "Regardless, the name doesn't answer the question of why that boy asked me to kill him."
"That… there was a whole mess last year, where one of the older children became abusive, using his quirk on the other children. He tried to use it on Akuma, and he objected. Very violently. I don't know what happened, I only found out about it afterward, but whatever Akuma did to him, it effectively made him quirkless. The older child… committed suicide shortly afterward. Now, everyone is afraid to even talk to him. Akuma doesn't seem to mind, but it can't be healthy, being so isolated from your peers like that. I promise you, he's very kind and intelligent, but he just doesn't get along with other children."
Hmm. A quirk powerful enough to either convince an older Quirk user that he was quirkless, or actually did erase the quirk. Trump Quirks like that were extremely rare. He could not remember ever hearing of an ability like that, aside from Eraserhead in Japan, or Hatchetface the Brute in America. Even All Might had been hesitant to fight Trump's like that.
Even All Might…
"Show him to me."
It was easy to guess which room was Akuma's. His was the one with deep claw marks and scorch marks on the door. The matron told him that Akuma had been the one to decorate the door; obviously, Akuma was having fun with his spite-given name.
He knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" A quiet voice called.
"The Pro Hero, Endeavor."
"… come in."
The room was very Spartan. No toys, no hero merchandise, no colorful books. Just a bookshelf with broken electronics and an assortment of what looked like junk.
And there was the devil himself, sitting on his bed with his legs crossed.
For a boy named Akuma, he certainly didn't look it. In fact, he looked very average. Small nose, black eyes, black hair, fair skin. He looked like a typical Japanese boy. There wasn't an ominous presence to show how dangerous the boy was.
The boy was now looking at him in what looked like mild surprise.
"You really are Endeavor," he said quietly. "I knew we were having a hero coming over, but I didn't know we were getting someone so highly ranked."
The Flame Hero gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. "Hello, Akuma. It's nice to meet you."
"You can just call me Aku if you'd like."
"… that means evil."
A sudden sharklike smirk appeared on the boy's face. "I know."
"You really enjoy being the villain, don't you?"
The boy snorted. "I don't enjoy being the villain. I enjoy people knowing that messing with me is an extremely stupid idea."
"Most normal children would hate to be called the devil."
"Most normal children actually want to be accepted by society. I have zero interest in belonging with most Japanese. They treat quirkless people like dirt, they treat heroes like their gods, and your entire position in life can be determined by whether or not you have an acceptable quirk or not. You think I want to be accepted by this society?"
"So… what is your goal in life?" Endeavour asked seriously. "Will you change society through your actions, or will you burn it all down to start anew?"
"If you're asking whether or not I'll be a hero or villain, just do it," the boy said curtly. "And I'm not sure about the hero thing, but I won't be a villain. Contrary to what people think, as much as society sucks, it has its perks. I have a strong quirk, and that will benefit me a lot in the future. Sure, the system is messed up, but right now, it caters to me, so I don't really care. Revolutionaries are born every day. I don't need to join their ranks."
Endeavor was beginning to see why some of the other children thought he was a devil. The boy was five, but he was speaking like someone twenty years older. There was no trace of childishness in his tone. If this conversation had taken place over the phone, Endeavour wouldn't have known the difference. He was smart enough to know the flaws in their current society, but he also didn't wish to rock the boat because he believed that whatever quirk he had would enable him to stay at the top of the food chain.
"What is your quirk?"
"Catalog."
That was… quite the underwhelming name, and he told him so.
The boy let off a small peal of laughter. "It's supposed to. My quirk provides me a 'catalog' of one hundred quirks that I have access to, and I can pick three a day. I go 'shopping' from my mental 'catalog' of quirks. Get it?"
Two hours later, Todoroki Akuma was moving into his new home.
There was a new boy in the house. Shoto didn't really know what to make of him, but that was mostly because he had never spoken to him. He never really got the chance to. He always ate with Father, and Father never ate with them, so Shoto only caught glimpses of him every now and then. He didn't look like them. He didn't have red or white hair or green or blue eyes. He had a very forgettable face, actually. Natsuo had once muttered something about him being a 'bastard child,' but once Hsoto had asked what that was, Fuyumi had slapped him with her shoe and told Shoto to ignore him.
Natuso didn't like him because he seemed too close to Father. Fuyumi seemed to feel bad for him because he spent so much time with Father. And Shoto… Shoto liked him, but not for a good thing.
Shoto liked the new boy because Father was now training him.
It had been a shock to learn, that day, that his training was over. He'd woken up late(and subsequently panicked, because the training was always worse when he was late) and rushed through his morning routine, not even bothering to get breakfast. But when he'd arrived at the training room, the doors had been locked shut, and Shoto could already hear small explosions and yells coming from the other side. Fuyumi found him twenty minutes later and told him that Father was training their newest sibling, and his training was canceled for today. And then it had happened again. And again. And again, until two months had passed, and Shoto hadn't stepped foot in the Training Room since the boy had come home with Father.
It was like a dream. No more being forced to wake up at the crack of dawn. No more hours of torturous exercise. No more having to dodge burning flames. No more yelling. No more punches that hit him hard enough to puke. He could play now. He wasn't on his diet anymore. He could watch cartoons with Natsuo, watch Fuyumi cook, or play with both of them. He was so happy nowadays. The only thing that could make this better would be if Mother was there with them.
And if seeing Father was rare before, then seeing him now was an impossibility. Shoto would see him dashing out the door in his Hero costume, or when he would walk into the house after work, telling 'Akuma!' that it was time for training. Somedays, he could hear evil laughter and vicious cursing from the Training Room. Sometimes, the explosions would shake the house and make the glass in the panes rattle. One time, he even heard Father shout in pain before a huge new dent appeared on the door.
Then one night, Shoto met his new brother.
It was a completely accidental meeting. Shoto had been yawning as he got up from a nightmare and was wandering to Fuyumi's room to ask if he could sleep with her that night. For some reason, Father decided to rest when he got home rather than train with Akuma, and the boy had apparently decided to train on his own. Without Endeavour to reinforce his bedtime, the Trump had decided to train until midnight. And so, the two had quite literally bumped into each other by chance.
Shoto froze as he realized who the other boy was. He didn't really know much about the other boy, aside from the fact that Father was training him harder and longer than he had Shoto. For all he knew, the boy was just a carbon copy of him.
Thankfully, he was wrong.
"Shoto?" Akuma asked, his face creased with a frown. Then lowering his voice he asked, "What are you doing up at this time? It's late."
"I-I had a bad d-dream," he stammered, squirming under the bigger boy's gaze. Even though they were the same age, Akuma was several inches taller than him, forcing Shoto to look up to meet his eyes. "I wanted to ask Fuyumi if I could sleep in her room tonight."
"Oh." Then, "You want a glass of milk before you go?"
A glass of milk? To help him sleep? He'd seen it in cartoons, but he'd never actually done it.
So, before his better judgment could kick in, he nodded.
Not only did he get a warm glass of milk, but Akuma also gave him some chocolate-filled mochi.
"Don't tell the Old Man," Akuma whispered to him, his eyes full of mischief. "He'd go ballistic if he knew about my stash."
Shoto giggled with him; sharing a secret snack with someone your own age just felt right. But Shoto was curious about a few things.
"Are you my new brother?" he asked. "Are you here to replace Touya?"
Akuma's face twisted at that, and he shook his head. "Nope. I'm your new brother, but I'm not here to replace Touya. The Old Man liked me and wanted me to come with him. I'm an orphan."
"Do you like him? Father, I mean?"
The boy shrugged. "He's okay as a sparring partner. He doesn't hold back much, and I keep learning new tricks. As a person… he's a piece of shit."
Shoto gigged at that (that was a bad word!) but his face grew solemn again.
"Does… does he hurt you?" Like he hurt us?
"Well, it doesn't tickle when he cold clocks me," Akuma said dryly. "But I always give him what he hits me with tenfold. He doesn't hurt me for fun, he does it when he's training me. Sometimes, I mess up, and he has to stop me, and stopping me means a lot of force has to be applied. I don't like it, but I learn from it."
Shoto felt sick suggesting this, but, "If-if you want, I can a-a-ask if-"
Akuma cut him off. "It's fine Shoto, Just go be a kid. Have fun, play games, mess around with your quirk, and when you grow up, bag some chicks. Live a little, bro. I got this."
"But, don't you wanna be a kid too?"
A shadow seemed to fall over his face. "I haven't been a kid for a while, Shoto. So just leave the training to me, okay."
With a hug and a kiss on the forehead(Ew! Only Fuyumi could do that!) Akuma bade him goodnight. And when he slipped into Fuyumi's bed later, his last thought was a good one.
His new brother was pretty cool.
Akuma was eight when Endeavour received a plea from the American government, asking for help with a Villain named 'Nilbog.' The past three years had been good to Endeavour. Adopting a child had been miraculous for his PR, and the pictures of them seen in public(usually it was just them grabbing a quick snack when Endeavour took him to the Agency. Akuma's combat skills were excellent, and he needed to start learning a bit more about administration and tactics.) were also helping him rise in the polls. He might've still been number two, but the gap between him and All Might was closing by the hundreds each year. Admittedly, it wasn't the way that he wanted to beat All Might, but every little bit helped.
The email came at night, just after a training session with Akuma. The details were simple: Nilbog was a biotinker, and an S-class threat. In the three weeks that he had been active, he had already subsumed his hometown and killed dozens of PRT troopers(America's unpowered version of the National Hero Commission). At first, Thinkers had assumed that he would be staying put and merely taking over what was left of Ellisburg. Unfortunately, one injured trooper had gone back into Ellisburg, somehow stealthed her way past his monsters, and managed to land a crippling blow Nilbog. Now, Nilbog had declared war on the human race, and the American Thinkers were afraid that he would quickly take over the country, so they were calling in aid from their allies, as well as assembling their own capes. Apparently, using Nuclear devices on Nilbog would result in a worldwide S-class event.
Originally, Endeavor had scoffed at the alert. Let the Americans fix their own problems, or better yet, let the buffoon waste his time over there whilst Endeavor gathered more followers. But Akuma, who had been reading over his shoulder(some kind of levitation Quirk that he had chosen for the day) changed his mind.
"You should go!" the boy said eagerly. "You could help a lot."
"My business is here, in Japan," he replied, putting his phone away. "Do I look like some kind of dog that runs when the Americans call me? Let them figure out their own issues. Their oppressive society against Quirks is the reason why we are thriving, and they are falling. In less than fifty years, they'll be just like Africa. A war-ridden country full of animals."
"First off, that's rude as hell. In case you didn't notice, Nilbog's war is against humanity, not America. If he wins in America, then we're next. Two, being stuck in Japan is not helping you. You think you're catching up to All Might? If you don't go to this fight, you'll stagnate."
"Explain." Whilst Akuma may have been a child, his mind was as sharp as any hero. Ignoring his advice would be like stabbing himself in the foot.
"All Might's number one because he's 'international,' not just national. Kids in Germany, Russia, America, and Britain know him because he's worked in those places before, resolving huge conflicts that the media's praised him for. Even in other countries, he's counted amongst the top fifty heroes. You wanna be better than the Number One Hero? Let the world know your name."
Hmm. That wasn't a bad idea. It was true that All Might had gotten his start off in America before coming to Japan, and the connections he made there helped elevate his career in Japan. Doing the same would at least help his popularity outside the nation. Who knows when he could need it?
"And there's a third reason. You need to let loose, and this is your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do so."
"Eh? Let Loose? Do I look like some kind of monster that needs to rampage regularly?"
"That's how the news has been portraying you lately. You've been going a bit hard on the criminals here for a while. Causing property damage, excessive force on villains; it's only because of your insane control over your quirk that you've managed to avoid any civilian casualties. You go there, flaunt your stuff, go a bit crazy, and I promise you, the criminals in Japan will give up as soon as you're on the scene."
That last point, as juvenile as it sounded, was a solid one. All Might had many clips where he showed off his monstrous strength and the fact that the world knew his strength kept some of the boldest villains from causing trouble. Well, he might as well go ahead. The Americans were paying for the trip.
His blood was rushing. His heart was pumping. His skin felt hot, and his Quirk was blazing. He had thought that restraining himself all these years might've made his power dull. He was wrong. As soon as he had released the reins on it, it had burst into life and soared with a fury that he could not articulate into words.
"Prominence Burn!"
An entire streetful of those filthy goblins screeched before they were turned to ash due to his power. Nilbog had made many monsters; goblin-like creatures with sharp claws and fangs, four-legged creatures that resemble pigs with tusks and toughened skin the size of cars, and giant draconic creatures that spat acid and a flammable gas that they ignited by scraping their sharp claws against the asphalt.
All of them fell before him.
He loved this; the endless hordes, the lack of restraint, the need for lethal force. There was no reason to hold himself back, and he enjoyed every minute of it. He was the only Japanese cape here; since Brutes could be infected with a toxin that these creatures held in their teeth and claws, All Might had been forced to stay on the sidelines. As such, most of the Japanese heroes had elected to stay, taking the same view he had. Most of the capes he was fighting alongside were Canadian, American, South American, and British. He woke up hours before the other capes did, barely sparing time for breakfast, and leaving long after they had given up for the day, the moon rising as he fought. Even his overheating problems didn't seem to bother him as much as they did now that he was truly in the heat of battle.
All together, Nilbogs' monsters had all been forced back into Ellisburg, and tomorrow, this week-long war would end. Enji would miss this; the only ones capable of keeping up with him were America's Triumvirate, Legend, Stars and Stripes, and Captain Celebrity, and even they called it a day an hour or two before him. His battle speed greatly outstripped most American Capes, and his Mover rating only aided him in that. Truly, if America offered such opportunities for battle, he might have to visit again!
"He's at it again, huh?" Challenger noted, watching the Japanese cape called Endeavor. "That dude's like a fucking monster. Does he even take breaks?"
Armsmaster said nothing, merely observing the foreign cape. He had underestimated the man, badly, and it was only now that he saw how much. Ever since the Golden Man had heralded the era of powers(and for some reason, decided to go to sleep in the middle of the Pacific Ocean), the world had quickly changed in the past fifty years. Almost eighty percent of the population had powers, with the remaining twenty percent gaining a general increase in strength, speed, reflexes, and intellect. America called them the Enhanced. Japan called them the Quirkless.
They had thought themselves so enlightened, so progressive that they didn't call their second-class citizens by such a 'racist' name. America thought that they were at the top of the food chain in this new World, and even the worldwide power stats seemed to agree with them. Thinkers, Tinkers, Blasters, and Shakers composed of most of the United States Parahumans. The United Kingdom had a lot of Masters, Strikers, and Movers. Africa seemed to have the monopoly on Brutes, Changers, and Breakers. Germany had a lot of Trumps and Strangers. And Japan was a melting pot of them all, some families purposefully making sure they wed with people that increased their abilities strength or added more sub categories to their power. Hell, the Empire was making noise that the newest member of their gang, Purity, was directly related to Scion, the first glowing parahuman.
Japan was a place where you could find all twelve categories of parahumans just by walking down the same street. Even more interesting was the fact that rather than Trigger in America, or be born with powers like in Africa, children often manifested their quirks by the age of four in Japan, and Japanese powers could be trained to grow until they reached a hard cap. American Parahumans, once triggered, were at their zenith immediately. These facts had made it seem like American Parahumans had a definite advantage in this new world. America had actually been wondering if declaring war was in order.
At least, until they started hearing about the 'S-classes.'
First was Moord Nag, one of the few African Masters, who was now single-handedly governing Nigeria. Then there was Glastig Uaine, a Swedish Trump/Master who could summon the shades of dead parahumans that obeyed her will, answering only to the Swedish King. AshBeast, another S-class powerhouse. Europe got the three Blasphemies, tinkertech guardians of the crown. Moldova gave birth to the Sleeper, who had the ear of the Russian President in exchange for protecting the country. Canada smugly showed off Dragon, their tinker who had a veritable army around the country. Then Japan first showed off All Might, who was definitely the Top Brute of the Century, and Now Endeavour, a Blaster who seemed only outrivaled by Legend, two very low S-class threats.
The message was soon becoming clear.
Everyone was collecting their own human nukes, parahuman deterrents that would tell the world to kindly fuck off, loyal to their heads of state. So America tried to get their own. And each one ended in disaster. The Slaughterhouse Nine wanted to kill everyone and had killed their only S-class, Hero. The Machine Army had gone rogue with their master's death. The Butcher was crazy. The Boston Games, a government-planned event to awaken more Triggers, ended in catastrophe. And now, Jaime Rinke had proven uncontrollable, necessitating the need for outside help.
Everyone was now getting a bit more aggressive with America. The prices to import things from Japan and China were steadily rising. The Russian President was getting a bit more outspoken in his disdain for the United States. Moord Nag was planning to unite Africa, and the crazy part was, a lot of people were joining her. America was getting nervous, and people were slowly putting pressure on him to create something that would measure up to Hero's work. There were ideas floating around of gathering all of America's Tinkers and having them make some kind of superweapon, but with some tinkers barely understanding their own work, let alone another's, that was an exercise in futility.
So here he was, at the site of America's newest fuck up, watching a Japanese High A-Class, very low S-class cape storm through what would've been an unstoppable army with ease, and wondering that if War came if the rest of the world would blitz through America with similar ease.
David was in the hospital for three days before he realized something profound: He had no idea how he got there. He knew it was something involving guns and smoke-he remembered the machine gun vibrating in his hand as he released a volley of bullets-monsters that liked to bite and scratch-David screamed as he felt sharp teeth bite through his helmet and sink through his skull-and his friend, Lady- "I'm going back, fuck the orders! Look at what that bastard did to David! The kid's missing half his fucking brain! I don't care if I have to go alone, Jaime Rinke dies tonight-and a helicopter, but that was it.
It had taken the nurses several weeks to help him understand, but he knew this; a bad parahuman hurt him and his squad. A monster ate half of his head, including a good chunk of his brain. David was still alive. Lady got mad and went back to hurt the Parahuman. Lady hurt him, but he lived, and Lady died. David was still alive. Heroes went back to fight the bad parahuman. The bad parahuman was dead now. David was still alive.
David was still alive.
David… didn't really want to be alive anymore. Lady was gone. His other friends were gone. Everyone was gone. David couldn't fight anymore. David was useless now, just like his pa had always said he'd be.
Then the new people came. The pretty black nurse, and the little girl with the fancy hat. They poked and prodded at him, but David was sure neither of them was nurses. It was just a funny feeling he had. They asked him a very serious question; if David wanted to save the world. Of course, he did! Everyone wanted to save the world! They lived in it.
So they made David drink a strange liquid. The liquid fixed things; it made the hole in his head close, and his head felt better, but bits of his brain was still gone. The da-mage was too ex-ten-sive, the fancy hat girl told him. Now all David did was sleep. And when David slept, he dreamt about golden men and silver women, flying throughout the galaxy giving strange-looking people parts of themselves.
Then, David had a new dream.
In this dream, David was strong and powerful again, and for once, he could think clearly. He was bigger than usual, faster too, He had powers now as well. He could spit lightning, throw fire and make a shield around his body that killed small things that came too close. Then, some bugs came and attacked him! David roared, shaking the earth as he did so. How dare these bugs hurt him! He was strong now! None of them were stronger than him! He would crush them all!
When David woke up, the pretty black doctor was pointing a gun at him, talking about a 'Behemoth.' The fancy lady was standing in front of him, talking about how they needed him for a path. Were they lost? David didn't think he'd be much help then.
Anyway, now David's new job was to sleep and dream. It might not have been honest work, but it certainly wasn't dull.