I felt weightless. I felt cold. I felt non-existent. I had been tossing and turning for hours as I awoke from my restless slumber. Although I had been asleep, I felt exhausted—as if I hadn't slept in days. The bedridden state I had been in was annoying. I had plenty of things to do, yet I felt no motivation to lift even a finger. I felt no motivation to eat. I felt no motivation to do so much as breathe.

Yesterday, as I fell asleep, I had still been in denial, and not fully conscious towards the events that had claimed the life of my dearest; however, this morning, as I had awoken, I felt almost dead. As I tossed in Tomura's bed, I decided to get up and begin my new plan. I had created a new scheme as I slept—to which I have now dubbed my 'enlightenment' ploy. Or 'the enlightenment' for short.

I rose from my spot on Tomura's bed and went into his closet, looking for something of his to wear—as a means of coping. I decided to wear one of Tomura's signature black, long-sleeve, V-neck shirts, accompanied by his typical black jeans, and of course, one of his pairs of red sneakers. It was honestly quite touching, him having bought a matching pair of my red sneakers. I softly laughed at the memory we shared from the day he came home with them.

I had been at the bar—still half-asleep—talking with Kurogiri about his fantastic cooking, when all of a sudden, in comes Tomura bursting through the door, sirens blazing, and these shoes in hand. He closed the door and sighed a breath of relief, before turning towards me. He showed the shoes to me—looking me up and down—and spoke.

"Well, this is awkward." I said aloud—reminiscing of the memory—as I put on the red shoes.

It was a glowing memory that I thought of regularly, now more than ever. I was beginning to feel my emotions hitting me again, and decided to distract myself with music. Remembering how technologically advanced Tomura's room had been—him being the gamer fanatic he is, or rather, he was—I called out for his google nest.

"Hey google." I began, awaiting for the dark room to illuminate slightly. "Play Vesti La Giubba on Youtube Music."

The device headed to my request, and played the song I had requested as I clothed myself with Tomura's outfit. The sound of the familiar music began to invade my ears, instantly distracting my mourning mind with it's sound. I had first heard of this song during one of Tomura's visits with All For One that he had brought me along for. At first, I hated it and wanted to carve out my ears in order to never hear it again, but after hearing it on repeat for hours at a time, I grew a sudden appreciation towards the Italian Opera.

I left the room as the song came to an end, and found myself sitting in front of the T.V in the common area, alongside the other members of the League. Toga had been the first to notice my outfit and decided to speak.

"Y'know, Shiggy's gonna kill you if he catches you wearing his clothes..." She spoke with a faint sigh.

"I don't think I'll have to worry about that anymore..."

Taking note of my oddly out-of-character tone, she began to open her mouth, freezing in place as she heard a string of words she hadn't expected.

"Earlier yesterday morning, an attack had taken place on Nabu Island—where the U.A students of Class 1-A had been providing additional hero services for the islanders. The villain attack had been the cause of many casualties, including the death of the infamous Shigaraki Tomura—better known as the leader of the notorious 'League Of Villains'—whom had also been responsible for several attacks on U.A high earlier this year."

As the reporter droned on about the relations between the League and the Villain's apprehended on Nabu Island, the room I had been sitting in was dead silent. There was no idle chatter between individuals, making fun of the reporters. There were no footsteps of people walking and pacing about the room—due to frustrating television drama. There were no creaks of floorboards that sometimes sounded at random. It was completely silent—excluding the T.V, of course.

No one dared to make a noise. No one dared to even breath louder than quiet. Those in the room that had heard the harsh words of the reporter wore a look I'd never soon forget. Their faces—clouded with melancholy and a mortified twist—seemed to contort in denial and confusion. Two years ago, the expressions my friends wore would have shook me to my core; however, now, after all that I seen, after all that I've done, the look seemed only natural.

"Izu-chan..." Toga started. "Where's Shiggy?"

Her eyes hadn't left the bright screen of the T.V—still talking about the events that occurred just yesterday—and her expression rested unwavering. The silence was disturbingly quiet. I was too tired to answer, and quite frankly, I didn't want the others to watch me weep; meanwhile, the act of processing the shocking truth that has been revealed in one of the most brutal ways imaginable was drowning my comrades.

"Yagi. Where is Shigaraki?" Dabi repeated sternly as he stood to his feet, and began making his way to where I was.

I remained silent and averted eye contact, until I felt the cold touch of Dabi's fingers on my chin—forcing me to look up at him. In this situation, I normally would have grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, but I was too tired to do anything.

As my deep green eyes met his piercing blue orbs, I felt the tears beginning to well in my eyes. He pulled my face closer to his and repeated himself, yet again, as a method of evoking a reaction that would give him some sort of answer—even if I were to remain silent.

Don't cry.

I refuse to cry.

Don't cry.

I won't.

Don't cry.

As I repeated those phrases in my mind, over and over and over again, Tomura's face appeared in my head. How he looked when I beat him in a video game, how he looked when we ate Kurogiri's savory meals, and the look he wore as he died. The words he spoke when he died, repeated in my brain as if it were on loop, and I cracked.

"Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!" I shouted quickly, as I began pacing around the room. "Get out of my head!"

I clawed at my neck as I felt my breathing becoming restricted. Every memory I had ever made with Tomura—ranging from when we met to when he began training me, from when I met All For One to when he spoke his final words—were being shoved down my throat, choking me, as I tried to make an artificial airway. I couldn't breathe, and the stares I had been receiving from my friends weren't helping with the situation.

Gripping my hair, I began laughing. Tears streamed down my face as the image of Tomura raced around my thoughts—taunting me.

"Yagi..." Dabi spoke, taking a step backwards as to create distance between him and I.

"What." I spitefully asked, in a snake like hiss—stopping my laughter. "Is there something wrong, Dabi?"

My lips curved upwards in a sickening grin—coated with malice, and a hint of melancholy—as I stared holes into his eyes—with my slit-eyed orbs. He looked disgusted as I chuckled darkly.

"No?" I asked, taking his silence as an answer. "Good."

I regained my composure, and left the room as quickly as I had entered. Time to get on with my plans, but first I need to get my room back.

I think I know exactly how to do so...

I needed my room back, since sleeping in Tomura's room obviously wasn't working for me, so I needed to accelerate my plans with the girl. That way, I would get my room back, and I would have, yet another, spy amongst the U.A students. Just another blow to the heroes once the endgame of this one-sided battle is upon us.

I activated Ghost and floated into my room, to see the periwinkle-haired girl snooping through my notebooks—not noticing my presence, due to my using Ghost. I floated through the room—careful not to gain the unwanted attention of the girl sitting at my desk—and floated into my closet. I grabbed my usual black hoodie, and mask before leaving to my bathroom and changing.

Being fully disguised and fit to blend in with the dimness of the place I was heading, I left the base. I had done research prior to my sudden outburst of drive to achieve my goal, meaning that I knew where I had to go.

As I glided, with grace, throughout the city of Musutafu, I found myself exhaling a breath I hadn't known I had been holding in. My core loosened, and I felt myself breathing properly for the first time since I had heard of Nine's existence.

I breathed in the frosty air of the city plunged in white. The grey snow clouds had created the perfect cover for the unexplainably bold crime I was about to commit. With the clouds creating such a dark environment, I had no doubt that I would slip in and out of my destination with ease.

Upon my arrival, I slipped through the gates and past the security of the holding facility I had been flying to, and entered inside. Then, I began my one-sided massacre.

Two-thousand and eighty-six.

That was the number of inmates that had been kept in the Tokyo Detention House.

Two-thousand and eighty-six.

That was the number of casualties that had occurred during my rampage. The brutality of my killings would be enough to make a fully grown adult sickened. The Tokyo Detention House was the jail that Harada Doi had been held—awaiting trial. Trail for the murder of the periwinkle-haired girl's parents—Hado Benjiro, and Hado Ena.

As I slaughtered each and every inmate in the Detention House, no guards had even seemed to notice my presence. The silence of my whips shocks me every time. I laughed to myself as I beheaded the final inmate with grace and elegance, before leaving the jail and heading back to the base.

Oh my God, I'm terrible.

I had been looking through the journals on Agony's desk thoroughly. Even just one of the notebooks reaching the public could have a devastating effect. The detail and sheer extensiveness of information on weaknesses, quirks and strengths were enough to cause the complete destruction of the hero society we lived in.

I wasn't honestly sure how I had felt about that. While, on one hand, I respect and admire so many heroes, but on the other, I can't help but see the people I had looked up to in a new lighting. One that is all but flattering. Red Gauntlet's actions were one thing, and I hadn't known enough about him for his actions to completely shift my perception of the heroes; however, after the truth about All Might had come into the spotlight, it's hard to ignore.

It raises the question : Are there other heroes like that out there? Are there other people that misuse their position in such a vile way? Are there other people that would take advantage of and harass their fans just because they had power?

It's hard to look past, and I fear that my vision of the heroes will always be tainted after what I had laid witness to; although, my perception of the villains has also changed. Watching as Agony jumped into action and saved that woman was eye opening. Despite the gruesome and relentless nature of the save, he still saved that woman, even though he had nothing to gain.

I sat thinking, and trying to sort out my thoughts for what seemed like hours, when suddenly a voice cut off my train of thought.

"Hey."

I glanced to my side and almost gagged at what stood over me. There, towing over my figure, stood a man in a black hoodie and mask—drenched in blood. His metallic sent filled my nose and his expression overtook my thoughts. He looked bored, yet amused. Angry, yet ecstatic. Calm, yet not the peaceful calm that comes to mind. It was the kind of calm that scares you to your core. The kind of eerie calm you'd find in a horror movie. The kind of calm you'd see right before the main character of a movie does something abrupt and unthinkable.

The kind of calm you'd have when the screaming stops. When you walk down to the basement to check on your mother. The kind of calm when you open the door and see your mother, sitting calmly in a puddle of her own blood. The kind of calm when you ask her if she's ok, and she responds with a simple 'mhmm'. When she tell you that she's feeling better. The kind of eerie calm you'd feel when she turned around to face you, and rips out her eyeballs—screaming.

"I got you a present.'

The eerie feeling that something was wrong only grew as he pulled a bag out from behind him. Opening it slowly, I felt my skin paling.

He opened the bag and grabbed the contents of the bag so that I could see.

It was the dismembered head of the man whom had murdered my parents.

"So, do you like it?"