As I watched the child laughing in hysterics, I couldn't help but feel like I had made a good decision — saving the child and bringing him here, I mean.

The kid was a nut case!

I grinned in an immature manner -looking like a child would have after receiving what they wanted following a tantrum. He had been laughing for minutes on end before coming to an abrupt stop with a straight face - acting as if he hadn't just experienced a psychotic episode.

"Where am I and how long have I been here?" He asked me in a voice of urgency.

I was shocked, to say the least. He was acting as if he were a completely different person than he was a few minutes ago — calm and collected, rather than the confused and nervous kid a few minutes ago. Or the wildcard laughing a few seconds ago. Though, we're all crazy in this business.

I usually wouldn't leak the location of the League of Villains to an outsider, but I didn't plan on allowing the child to leave either.

"You're sitting in the main base of the League of Villains." I elaborated.

"League of Villains? Haven't heard of you." I retorted.

League of Villains?

The name bounced about in my mind as I thought it over. The lack of creativity left my mouth dry, and the sheer stupidity of the name sounded as if even the person who had thought of the name was uninterested.

"We're a newly formed organization — still waiting for the right moment to make our grand debut."

A newly formed organization?

If they were a newly formed villain organization, they would probably be looking for new recruits. However, I didn't know their intentions or motivations, nor did I know if they'd even want a quirkless child on their plates.

"What are your intentions? What do you hope to gain as Villains?" I asked the man in front of me with a voice laced in boredom.

I wanted to know whether or not I would have a reason to join their villainous organization — not that anyone had even given me an offer; however, I believed that my knowledge and abilities in analytics would have sufficed for my quirkless predicament.

"Our intentions? Well, our intentions are," Shigaraki paused, grinning. "To kill All Might, of course."

Upon hearing those words, I felt a sense of happiness; genuine happiness; pure, and utter joy. For the first time in my pitiful life, I knew exactly where I was meant to be.

"I want in."

I stood there — shaking — in front of a crowd of familiar faces.

Familiar to me, that is.

What could I even say?

I was panicking as my eyes scanned across the rows of people in front of me.

"Uhm... Izuku..." I started "He was an amazing person..." My voice broke as I felt a lump form in my throat.

What was I supposed to say?

As I stood there, looking at all the people dressed in black, I was frozen. All the people that were standing there — all the people that were crying for Izuku — none of them had ever known him. None of them were there for him. None of us were there for him.

We were all to blame.

"Izuku had the purest of hearts."

I had no right to say that.

"He had the purest of intentions..."

I had no right.

"He was an amazing friend."

I had no right to say that!

As I was struggling to choke out my words, my eyes crossed paths with Izumi and Todoroki. They were also speakers at Izuku's funeral. They looked just as uncomfortable as I did — standing awkwardly off to the side. It was difficult. Nobody knew what we did to him. Or at least, they didn't know it was us. They didn't know that this whole mess was on us.

And they never will, according to Izumi.

"What happened to Izuku was a tragedy. This world has lost one of the most caring, and compassionate beings to have ever lived. He had ambitions to become a hero — not for the money or the fame, nor for the praise or thanks. He didn't want to become a hero to boast or prove something to anyone, he became a hero to help others. To help everyone. He wanted to save people just to see them happy." My voice was horas and came out strained as I spoke of Izuku and his aspirations. "He would have become one of the greatest heroes ever."

This was all my fault.

He never should have died that day.

I couldn't take the whispering people and sympathetic looks, so I placed my flower on the tombstone, and dropped my dirt onto the closed casket. Then, I walked to my mom and hugged her.

Izuku...

Why did you do it?

Why did you listen to me?

Why did you take your life?

Blood.

Puddles of blood trickled from my mouth — tasting metallic and disgusting from the iron in my blood. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach and held myself in the fetal position.

"Weak," Shigaraki spoke bitterly.

He had been training me for the past week and his method of training me was quite unorthodox. Unorthodox meaning, he would more-or-less beat the shit out of me for a reason unbeknownst to me.

Giving me a look that announced his boredom and screamed 'we're done here', Shigaraki began walking away — leaving me to lie in a pool of my own blood.

With all my might, I rolled myself over and put my arms down — starting to hoist myself up. Wincing, I pushed through the agonizing pain soaring throughout every bone, muscle, and cell in my body. I stood lopsided, looking determined as ever before I mustered my courage and spoke.

"No... I will beat you!" My voice came out strained and cracked — sentiment and pain leaking evidently through my voice.

To me, this wasn't only a fight against Shigaraki. To me, this wasn't solely an act of standing up for myself. To me, I felt as if this were a stand against anyone who had ever mocked me. I felt that at this moment, I was proving myself to all the people that humiliated, hurt, harassed, and abused me. I felt as if I was finally proving myself to Bakugou, Izumi, Todoroki, Father, Mother, everyone. I felt as if I could finally be at peace if only, I could stand my ground against Shigaraki.

Shigaraki looked at me with a grin — seeming impressed with my determination and drive; although, if you looked close enough, you could see the twisted nature behind his smile; the twisted nature behind his eyes; the malice and evil in the depths of his soul.

Of course, I was the same. I was exactly like him now. I was as tainted, twisted, and broken as he was.

"Will you now?" Shigaraki asked with a growing grin.

I knew his grin all too well. This smirk was the one Bakugou Katsuki wore plastered across his face daily. The smirk Bakugou Katsuki used to silence me for years. The smirk that for years, I used as a representation of villainy.

I ground my teeth with fury in my eyes as I glared with all my might — standing my ground as I saw Bakugou in Shigaraki.

He swiftly walked back to where I stood, trembling, and began to run at me. Shutting my eyes in fear, I grabbed Shigaraki's arm and hoisted him upwards. Then, I turned on my heels and slammed him into the ground.

Shock overtook Shigaraki's expression, as it did mine.

Recovering quickly, Shigaraki kicked my legs out from under me, and the next thing I saw was darkness.

The child woke up around a month ago; although, he took the first few weeks for recovery — as suggested by Kurogiri and Master's Doctor. We always listened to him, Master's Doctor was a board-certified Doctor, after all.

Yagi was an incredibly weak kid. He was underfed, skinny, and had no training whatsoever when it came to combat and overall technique — which made our recruitment and training process that much longer.

Coughing out blood onto the floor of our training room, I kicked Yagi in the gut and called him weak for good measure before taking my leave. I discovered that provocation was a viable method to boost Yagi's determination.

What I had been aiming to achieve — from the training I had been subjecting Yagi to — was a reaction. I wanted him to fight back for once in his life. From the snippets of information he had given me, I learned that he was always the bud-of-the-joke, or punching bag growing up. I learned that he had never once stood up for himself. I learned that he had suffered, quietly, without fighting back.

If Yagi was going to make a name for himself or grow into a person who wouldn't be afraid to fight back, he'd need to start soon.

Just before I reached the door, I heard a shuffling noise arise from behind me — followed by muffled words.

"No... I will beat you!" He cried out with all the strength he had in him — which wasn't much.

After only one week, he had already improved his pain tolerance and adaptability.

This kid...

He surely was astounding.

"Will you now?" I replied with excitement shining through my voice.

I couldn't wait to see what he would do next. My sickening grin only grew at the thought of Yagi finally learning to stand up for himself. Although taking him a while, this was a landmark. This was an improvement. This was a moment that he would remember for the rest of his life — because this was the first moment he had ever stood up for himself.

I began walking back to him, noticing him tense at my movements. Then, I hastily ran at him, ready to punch him in the face — keeping my thumb tucked in, of course. I knew that it was dangerous — keeping my thumb tucked inside my palm as I did — but it was better than disintegrating his face.

It wasn't as if I was planning of punching him hard, anyway.

Ready for my fist to come into contact with Yagi's face, I felt his hand grasp my arm. He tightened his grip and threw me over his head, then slammed me into the ground.

Marvelous.

My pride leaked through my teeth as I grinned up at him with both ecstasy and melancholy. Ecstasy blooming from my heart as he stared down at me with pride and crazed-sanity — admiring his ability as it blossomed in front of his eyes. Melancholy as our game of waiting came to an end, but ultimately my joy prevailed — for this would be a new form of high, waiting to see what would become of the boy.

It warmed my soul to see his determination and anger finally forming into something he could use — as if he had a weapon of sorts. A few moments later, I recovered and kicked his legs out from underneath him. He fell and when he came in contact with the cold floor, he passed out.

I rose from the ground and dusted myself off before picking up Yagi.

He was still far lighter than a boy of his age should have been.

Carrying him back to his room, I laid Yagi on his bed and pulled the covers overtop his limp form. He hadn't decorated his room yet. I suppose he wanted to wait until he truly had a place here, as a proper part of the League. As soon as he can take me down, without complaining about lacking in power or quirks, I will introduce him to Master. Then, Master will give him a quirk. He first needed to learn how not to rely on quirks or powers to save him. He needed to learn to be strong, with or without a quirk.

I placed a wet cloth over the top of his head and stared down at his form — peacefully lying on his bed — before leaving. I would never admit it to him, but I saw him as a little brother. He and I had a lot in common, our origin stories, our issues, our pasts.

Master will love him.