Fractured Wings

The room was a tomb of shadows, it's walls slick with dampness that glistened faintly under the flickering glow of a single, dying light bulb. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the cloying of sweetness of cheap perfume, a nauseating combination that clung to the back of the throat. 

The floor was cold and concrete, cracked and stained with dark patches that could have been rust or something far worse. In the corner, a rusted drain sat half-clogged with clumps of matted hair and other unidentifiable debris, the remnants whatever horrors had taken place here before. 

At the center of the room, beneath the swaying light bulb, was Bakugou Katsuki. He hung limp from the ceiling, his wrists bound again by rope that rubbed his skin raw. His body stripped down to his underwear, his once-proud frame now a canvas of brutality. Bruises mottled his skin in shades of purple and black, some fresh, other's fading into sickly yellows. 

Cuts crisscrossed his chest and arms, shallow but deliberate, as if each one had been carved with a surgeon's precision. His head hung low, his spiky blonde hair matted with sweat and blood, his face pale and gaunt from exhaustion and blood loss. 

But the most disturbing details were the marks left by Toga Himiko. Across his arms, his torso and even his thighs, were lipstick kiss imprints—bright, garish red against his fair skin. They were everywhere, as if she had marked him as her own, a twisted claim staked in the most intimate way possible. 

On his stomach, just above the waistband of his underwear, her name had been carved into his flesh: TOGA. The letters were jagged, uneven, as if she had taken her time, savouring every cut. Blood had dried around the edges, forming a dark, crusted boarder. Beside him, on a rickety metal table, sat a glass jar filled with a deep, crimson liquid—a litre of Bakugou's own blood, carefully collected and stored. The jar glinted in the dim light, a macabre trophy that Toga had earned. Next to it, lay a digital camera, it's screen still glowing faintly with the last image it had captured. 

Toga stood over Bakugou, her golden eyes wide and gleaming with manic delight. She twirled a bloodied knife between her fingers, the blade catching the light as she hummed a cheerful tune. Her lips were smeared with lipstick, the same shade of red as the kiss marks on Bakugou's skin. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath coming in short, excited gasps as she admired her handiwork. "Oh Katsuki" she cooed, her voice singsong and dripping with faux affection. "You're so much fun when you're quiet. But don't worry, I'll wake you up soon. We're not done playing yet!" She reached out, tracing a finger along one of the cuts on his chest. 

He flinched and let out a low growl, his eyes remained closed. Toga giggled, a high-pitched, almost childlike sound that echoed across the walls of the room. "You're so strong," she murmured, her pitch almost dropping to a whisper. "Even now, you're still fighting. That's so... inspiring." She picked up the camera, scrolling through the photos she had taken.

Each one was a snapshot of Bakugou, from when she had got him from Shigaraki until now. She had set it up to snap automatically, she didn't want to make a video, that could get lost easily, and she didn't know how to use one of those cameras. 

She wanted to use this one as she liked how the pictures would just fall from the cameras, it reminded her of old movies that she used to watch with her parents. She caught a picture of Bakugou's eyes wide in fear for the first time since he arrived, another of him trying to fight her off even though he was heavily sedated, of her draining him of his blood. And many more. 

She sighed dreamily, pressing a hand to her chest. "You're so beautiful like this," she said, emotion shivered through her voice like a leaf. "I wish you could see yourself. You'd understand." She set down the camera and picked up a vial of blood from the table. 

Holding it up to the light, she swirled it gently, watching the liquid catch the glow of the bulb. "Your blood is special," she said, her tone reverent. "It's so... alive. It's perfect. Not like other people's blood. It's special." She uncorked the vial and brought it to her lips, taking a small sip. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let out a soft moan of pleasure. "Mmm... just as good as I thought," she said licking her lips. "I could drink you forever." 

'Oh yeah,' she thought back to the camera. It looked like a standard digital camera, and it acted as one. But Giran told her that she could switch it's functions to video, and Magne shown her how to. She quickly did that and positioned herself next to Bakugou who barely looked alive, her face only inches away from his as she pressed record. 

"Hi Katsuki!" she said, waving at the camera with a grin. "It's me, Toga! I just wanted to show you what we've been up to. Look at you! You're so handsome, even when you're all beat up. And look—I wrote my name on you! Isn't it romantic?" She panned the camera down to his stomach, zooming in on the carved letters. "See? now everyone will know you're mine. Forever and ever!" She giggled, the sound high and deranged, before pointing the camera back to herself. "Oh and I almost forgot! I made a little souvenir for us. Look!" She held up another jar of blood, shaking it gently so the liquid sloshed against the glass. "Isn't it pretty? I'm going to keep it forever. Maybe I'll only drink it during special occasions. Like our anniversary." 

She laughed again, the sound echoing off the walls, before ending the recording. She set down the camera down and leaned closer to Bakugou, her breath hot against his ear. "Don't worry Katsuki," she whispered. "This is just the beginning. This will be so much fun together. 

Before she could continue, a voice called out from the hallway, sharp and impatient. "Toga! Shigaraki says to leave the brat alone." Toga pouted, her lower lip jutting out in a mock display of disappointment. "Aww, already?" She sighed dramatically. 

Then she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Bakugou's cheek. The lipstick left a bright red mark, a final brand of her twisted affection. "Don't go anywhere, Katsuki," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I'll be back soon. And next time... we'll have even more fun." With that, she skipped out of the room, her humming fading into the distance. The door creaked shut behind her, leaving Bakugou alone in the silence. 

He couldn't speak, his throat was dry and hoarse. But he wanted to speak, he wanted to acknowledge that he could still do that much, even if only to say, he doesn't like the silence he has been getting anymore. 

It's dreadful. 

He closes his eyes shut again. 

***

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over Deika City as I soared through the air, my paper wings catching the last golden rays of daylight. The wind whipped past me, sharp and cold but I barely felt it. My mind was elsewhere, replaying the encounter with Dabi over and over again. 

That man—if he could be called that—was dangerous. More dangerous than I initially thought. The way he emerged from the Nomu container, his body radiating an oppressive energy that made the air around him feel heavy, like the calm before the storm. 

And his quirk... fire. I wonder what he could really do without holding back. 

I frowned, my wings adjusting slightly as I blanked over a cluster of buildings. The League was bad enough on it's own, but with someone like Dabi in the mix, and then Daiki and Saya, which Daiki confirmed, if those were just a few of the core members of the League, then they were on a whole other level. Maybe they could take on the MLA. 

The MLA just had numbers and a message that many would get behind more so than the League wanting society to burn. The MLA has the resources and fanatical devotion to Destro's ideology. Taking them both down? That was a suicide mission. Even for me. No, I needed to focus on one. 

The heroes would already be on the League's case more so since they have outwardly messed with so many heroes lives as well as hero students. So they could wait. In the end I want to see Destro's army fall. 

A stretched out my hand and a piece of paper formed into a small square. With a flick of my wrist, it expanded, forming a miniature map of Japan. The paper shimmered faintly, a tiny paper form that shaped into the figure of Twice appeared in a corner—the tracker I placed on Twice. I studied the location, furrowing my brow. He was somewhere in Kyushu, near Fukuoka. Not close but not far either. 

I thought of sending a paper bird to the Commission's office in Tokyo but it wouldn't get that far. And obviously I couldn't risk electric communication—too easy for Skeptic to trace. 

For the freedom that Destro gives me that allows me to glide into the air and be on my own, I have noticed more people in the city that have flight capabilities like I do arriving not too long after I do, whenever he hasn't sent me on a mission. 

As the paper folded back into nothingness, I noticed that movement. At least it was someone I knew, it was Miku. Her stingray-like wings glided effortlessly through the air, her body streamlined and graceful. Cold, but less cruel than when I first met her. She has a sharp mind. She approached me in a calm and casual demeanour. 

"Kobe," she said, her voice cool but not unfriendly. "I've been looking for you." 

"Miku," I replied, nodding slightly as I adjusted my wings to match her pace. "What's up?" 

She tilted her head, her dark eyes studying me. "Just making sure you're not getting lost. You've been spending a lot of time on your own lately." 

I shrugged, keeping my tone casual. "Just like being up in the air." 

She didn't respond immediately, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before she looked away. "Fair enough. But from afar, you looked... preoccupied." 

Her eyes were better than normal. Probably because of her mutant like features, or maybe it was some other type of senses that stingray may have. 

I raised my eyebrows, feigning ignorance. "Preoccupied? What makes you say that?" 

She gave me a sidelong glance, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Call it a hunch. You've got that look in your eye, like you're planning something." 

I hesitated. Miku wasn't stupid, and even though I am a good liar, she would figure me out and become extremely suspicious of me again. "Yeah." I admitted after a moment. "I've been thinking about the League. I don't trust them, they're too wild. And I met one recently that just seemed to embody all of that... Dabi." 

Her expression shifted slightly, a flicker of interest in her eyes. "Dabi? I've heard of him. He's been part of a few small time crews but ends up killing them and leaving." 

I frowned, I knew he was dangerous, but that sounded more like something Abyss would do, or that man Muscular. But I guess there are just a bunch of mad men within the League. They wouldn't mesh well with the MLA, their ruthlessness was just something that they needed right now. 

"I think he somehow became a Nomu, or just has parts of one infused in him." 

Miku's wings dipped slightly as she processed the information. "A Nomu? That's a claim? Do you have proof?" 

"Other than what I saw last night. But it doesn't matter. I'd rather keep my distance until it's time to strike. His quirk is like a direct counter to mine." 

She nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "Fair enough. Be careful, Kobe." That was a surprise, a welcome one. 

We flew in silence for a while, the city stretching out below us like a patchwork quilt. The streets were quiet, the usual hustle and bustle muted by the approaching evening. It was almost peaceful, in a way. But I knew better. Peace was an illusion... one that should be enjoyed when you can. 

"So," Miku said after a while, breaking the silence. "Now that you're officially part of the MLA, what's next for you?" 

I glanced at her, trying to gauge her tone. She sounded casual, but there was an edge to her voice, like she was testing me. "What do you mean?" 

She shrugged, her wings rippling slightly as she adjusted her course. "I mean, you've got a lot of potential, Kobe. Destro see's it, and so do I. But potential only gets you so far. What are you planning to do with it?" 

I didn't answer her right away. And I didn't really know. What am I to do with my potential? I was supposed to become a hero, but that wasn't really my dream. It was just a position I was in. Why do most people want to be heroes? Nah that wasn't the question to ask? 

Most people now do so for the benefit of being one in this society. So maybe I should think of why certain people in my life wanted to be heroes. Like Midoriya, Bakugou and my sister, Yuki. 

Midoriya, even when younger, was the one with the brightest heroic spirit, that was a way I could describe it anyway. He would always try to step up for people even when he couldn't for himself and no one would reciprocate. 

Bakugou, he had an obsession with being number 1, he acted like a dick but there was some good in him, it could just be hard to find. But whenever he spoke on heroes he always did mention the one's that looked like they were putting in more of an effort to being a true hero. It would always round back to All Might though. 

And Yuki, honestly, I don't really know why she thought of being a hero. I just noticed her attitude shift after out dad died. She acted cold but she did seem to enjoy helping people. She experimented with her quirk a lot, and was always told that she had the potential to be a hero. 

Was that it? Her potential. Did she even want to be a hero? 

From my periphery I noticed Miku was still staring straight at me, waiting for an answer. 

Well, for the other two, the core of their reasoning was making a change. Helping people or changing the system to have all eyes on another. 

A core that was similar to almost every organization. One found in the MLA as well, one I can use for an answer that should have been simple. Right? 

"I know one thing for sure," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "I'm not here to play second fiddle. If I'm going to be a part of this, I want to make a real impact. A better tomorrow." 

She nodded, her expression unreadable. "That's good to hear. We have a lot of work to do, especially with Hero's Eve coming up. 'A better tomorrow.' I like the thought of that." 

She smiled. A real and genuine smile. It was melancholic and the light from the sunset made it shine in a different light that showed off a more nostalgic and sad tone to her face. She was holding in sadness. 

I never thought before, she has a past just as I have one. A bad one, but I don't know anything about hers. I just know what I know of her from when meeting. 

A mutant in this world will always walk on a bumpier path than they should. 

***

The hospital room was quiet, save for the soft tapping of Nezu's claws against the keyboard of his laptop. The glow of the screen illuminated his small frame, casting long shadows across the sterile walls. His usual cheerful demeanour was absent, replaced by a grim focus as he replied to emails—parents demanding answers, reporters seeking statements, government officials pressing for updates. Each message was a reminder of the chaos that had engulfed UA, a chaos he had been unable to prevent. 

He really should have just left this to someone else in the necessary department. 

He paused, his paw hovering over the mousepad as a new email notification popped up. The sender's address was a jumble of random characters, and the subject line was blank. Suspicious. Nezu's sharp eyes narrowed, his mind already racing through the possibilities. A prank? A threat? Or something worse? He hesitated for a moment, then opened a separate program, running the email through a series of encrypted filters to ensure it was safe. Once satisfied, he clicked to open it. 

The screen filled with images, and Nezu's breath caught in his throat. 

The first photo showed Bakugou Katsuki, bound and battered, his body a canvas of bruises and cuts. Bright red lipstick marks covered his skin, grotesque and mocking. The second image zoomed in on his stomach, where the name TOGA had been carved into his flesh, the letters jagged and raw. The third was a close-up of his face, pale and gaunt, his eyes closed but his expression twisted in pain. And the final image was a jar of blood, labelled with a crude tag that read, "A gift from Katsuki." 

Below the images was a message, written in bold, mocking text: 

---------------------

"To the so-called 'heroes' of UA. 

How does it feel to fail so spectacularly? Your precious student, your 'future hero,' is ours now. We've marked him, broken him, and made him ours in ways you can't even imagine. And there's nothing you can do about it. 

You heroes love to preach about justice and safety, but where were you when we took him? Where were you when we carved our name into his skin? Where were you when we drained him of his blood, drop by drop? You weren't there. You're never there when it matters. 

This is just the truth you don't want to admit: your heroes are weak. You don't dominate anymore! You're system is broken. And your students? They're just pawns in a game they can't win. Bakugou Katsuki is proof of that. 

We'll be in touch. Enjoy the pictures.

—The League of Villains." 

---------------------

Nezu's paws trembled as he stared at the screen, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Fear, anger, and a deep, gnawing guilt churned within him, each emotion vying for dominance. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he felt as though the walls of the room were closing in on him. The words on the screen burned into his mind, each sentence a venomous barb aimed at his heart. 

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "No, no, no..." 

His mind flashed back to the series of disasters that had befallen UA. The League's breach during the beginning of the year, the chaos and fear that had gripped his students at the time that only All Might could stop. Then the multiple incidents with Proxy, where his students had been trapped in a deadly game world, their lives hanging by a thread. 

And then the attack on the school itself, where three of his students had died and one staff member had died. And in that chaos one was kidnapped. Four souls that had trusted UA to keep them safe. And now this. Bakugou, one of his most promising students, kidnapped and tortured, his suffering flaunted like some sick trophy. 

Nezu's paws clenched into fists, his claws digging into his palms. He had failed. Failed to protect his students, failed to anticipate the League's moves, failed to be the leader UA needed. The weight of that failure pressed down on him, crushing and inescapable. 

He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, but the images lingered in his mind, vivid and unrelenting. Bakugou's face, pale and lifeless. The lipstick marks, the carved name, the jar of blood. Each detail was a knife twisting in his chest, a reminder of his inadequacy. 

"This is my fault," he murmured, his voice shaking. "All of it." 

The emails words wouldn't leave his eyes, even when he closed them. "Your heroes are weak. Your system is broken." Was it true? Had he been blind to the cracks in the foundation of hero society? Had he been so focused on maintaining the image of UA that he'd failed to see the threats growing in the shadows? 

He thought of Bakugou, of his fiery spirit and unyielding determination. The boy had always been a handful, but he was a hero through and through. And now... now he was in the hands of monsters, his body and spirit broken piece by piece. Nezu's stomach churned at the thought, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. 

But then, slowly, he straightened, his expression hardening. He couldn't afford to wallow in self-pity. Not now. Not when Bakugou's life—and the lives of all of his students—depended on him. He opened a new email, his paws moving swiftly across the keyboard. 

"To the Hero Public Safety Commission," he typed, his words sharp and precise. "Urgent action is required. Attached are images and a message from the League of Villains regarding the kidnapping and torture of UA student Bakugou Katsuki. This is not just an attack on one student—it is an attack on the very foundation of hero society. Immediate intervention is necessary to locate and rescue Bakugou, as well as to dismantle the League of Villains. Failure to act will result in further loss of life and irreplaceable damage to the public trust in heroes." 

He paused, his claws hovering over the keys. Then he added one final line: "This is a war. And we are losing." 

As a hit send, Nezu leaned back in his chair, his small frame trembling with a mixture of rage and resolve. The League had made this personal. They had crossed a line. And now, they would learn what it meant to provoke the principal of UA.