The room is a white void, blinding and freezing, like it's trying to erase me. My wrists are past pain now—numb, bloody, the straps so tight they've carved grooves into my skin. I can't feel my hands anymore, just a dull ache where they used to be.
The table under me is slick with my sweat, maybe blood, I don't know. The air's thick with that sharp, chemical stink, and every breath feels like swallowing glass. I'm thirteen, but I'm not sure I'm me anymore.
Time's gone slippery, like water I can't hold.
Days?
Weeks?
I don't know how long I've been here, strapped down, cut open, burned from the inside. My chest's a drum of pain, each heartbeat a hammer against my ribs. I try to count them, to hold onto something real, but the numbers slip away, drowned out by the buzzing light above. It's always on, always watching, like it knows I'm breaking.
The machine looms over me, its needles sharper today, longer, like they're hungry for more of me.
I can't stop staring at it, my eyes dry and burning, afraid to blink in case it moves. It's alive in my head now, a monster with a thousand arms, each one tipped with pain.
My quirk twitches inside me, a sick, crawling thing, and I hate it. Ghost Hands used to be mine, a piece of me I loved, but now it's their weapon, their toy.
The door hisses, and my body jerks, the straps cutting deeper.
My stomach's a knot, twisting so tight I can't breathe. I know what's coming.
I always know.
My heart's racing, too fast, like it's trying to run away without me. I want to scream, to beg, but my throat's a ruin, shredded from days of crying out for no one.
Dr. Kuroda walks in, his glasses glinting like knives.
His face is empty, like I'm not even human to him. Just a thing to cut apart, to study.
He's got a new syringe today, bigger, the liquid inside black as oil, swirling like it's alive.
Behind him, the shadow moves—All For One. His presence is a weight, crushing me, making my quirk twist and scream inside my chest.
I want to shrink away, to disappear, but there's nowhere to go.
He doesn't speak, but I feel him, like a storm pressing down on me. His eyes are hidden, but they're there, digging into me, peeling away what's left of who I am.
He's the shadow from when I was nine, the thing that watched me, waited.
Now he's here, and I'm his. My quirk spikes, sharp and wrong, like it's trying to tear me open to escape him.
Kuroda's voice is cold, mechanical. "Subject's neural pathways are fraying. We'll increase the dosage to force quirk integration."
I want to yell at him, to tell him I'm not a subject, I'm Rei, but the words are gone, lost in the fog of pain.
My mouth's dry, my lips cracked and bleeding, and all I can do is stare at that syringe, my heart pounding so hard it hurts.
I bite my tongue, the pain sharp, real, something to hold onto.
My body's trembling, shaking so bad the straps creak, but I can't stop it. I'm scared, so scared, and I hate myself for it. I'm supposed to be stronger, like Dad was, like the heroes I used to watch. But I'm just a kid, and I'm falling apart.
Kuroda raises the syringe, and the black liquid glints, promising worse than fire, worse than ice. I shake my head, a small, desperate jerk, but he doesn't even look at me.
The needle plunges into my neck, and the scream rips out of me, raw and broken, tearing my throat to pieces.
The liquid's poison, thick and heavy, crawling through me like worms, eating me from the inside. My quirk erupts, Ghost Hands exploding from my body, wild and jagged, slashing at the air, the table, the walls.
They're not hands anymore—they're claws, monsters, tearing at everything, tearing at me.
Each one feels like a blade in my chest, my head, my soul.
They're not mine.
They're theirs, twisted by their drugs, their machines. My vision's blurring, my head pounding like it's going to split open, and I'm screaming, or maybe I'm not—just gasping, choking on the pain as the hands rage, out of control.
My mind's breaking, cracking like glass.
The hands smash into the machine, sparks flying, and Kuroda steps back, his face twitching with annoyance.
I want to laugh, to scream that I'm not his puppet, but the pain's too much, drowning me. The hands claw at the air, at nothing, and I feel every hit, every slash, like they're cutting me apart.
I'm not strong enough to stop them. I'm not enough.
"Focus," All For One says, his voice a blade, slicing through the chaos.
"Bend it to your will, or I'll take it."
I try, I swear I try, to pull the hands back, to make them mine again, but they're too wild, too angry. My chest's heaving, my breaths ragged, and I'm choking on sobs I won't let out.
I won't cry. Not for him. Not for them.
Another needle, this one in my chest, and it's like lightning, white-hot and electric, burning through every nerve.
My body arches, the straps cutting deeper, blood trickling down my arms. My vision fractures, and I'm not here anymore.
I'm in the backyard with Dad, his laugh warm, his hands guiding mine. I'm with Mom, her voice soft, her fingers brushing my hair. But it twists—Dad's face melts, his eyes turning dark, empty, like All For One's. Mom's hands become chains, wrapping around me, pulling me down.
"You're cracking," All For One says, closer now, his voice a whisper that fills the room.
"Let go. It's easier." I want to spit at him, to scream that I'll never give in, but the words are gone, swallowed by the pain.
My head's a storm, memories and nightmares bleeding together—Dad's body in the forest, blood pooling, Mom's face fading, the shadow that's always been there, now real, now here.
The machine whirs louder, and more needles come, stabbing into my temples, my thighs, my heart. My body jerks, the pain so big it's all I am.
The Ghost Hands thrash, tearing at the air, at me, like they're trying to rip my soul out. It feels like I'm shattering, like my quirk's eating me alive, turning me into something else, something not human. My head's full of screams—mine, Dad's, Mom's, All For One's laugh, all twisting together until I can't tell what's real.
I'm not a hero. I'm not even Rei anymore.
I'm just pain, just a thing they're breaking.
The spark in me, the one I clung to, is flickering, fading. I want to hold it, to keep it alive, but it's slipping, drowning in the black liquid, the needles, the hands that aren't mine.
I want to disappear, to stop feeling, to stop being.
I'm thirteen, and I'm not enough.
The machine stops, and I'm barely alive, my body limp, my mind a fog of pain and fear.
The straps loosen, but I don't move. I can't. My arms are heavy, my legs gone, my head too broken to think.
The hands are gone, but I feel them still, clawing inside me, waiting to come back.
Kuroda's voice cuts through, cold and sharp. "Quirk integration progressing. We'll escalate tomorrow."
I want to laugh, to scream that there's nothing left, but I'm empty. All For One's eyes are on me, heavy, waiting, and I feel them like a weight on my soul.
He knows. He knows I'm breaking.
And I'm not sure who I am anymore.
The spark I held onto, that angry little fire, is flickering, so small I can barely feel it.
My name—Rei—it's slipping, like sand through my fingers. I try to hold onto it, to remember the kid who laughed with Dad in the backyard, who felt Mom's hands tucking him in, but the memories are fading, unraveling like old thread.
Dad's face is blurry now, his voice a distant echo, swallowed by the hum of the machine. Was his laugh deep or soft? I can't remember.
Mom's eyes—were they brown or green? They're gone, replaced by the white void of this room, by All For One's shadow. The forest, the blood, the day they took me—it's all fragments, sharp but fading, like a dream I'm waking from.
The pain's louder than my past, drowning it, and every needle, every scream, chips away at who I was.
I try to grab the pieces—my name, my home, the kid who wanted to be a hero—but they're dissolving, melting into the black liquid in my veins. I'm not human anymore, just a thing, a shell filled with their poison.
All For One's voice whispers in my head, telling me to let go, and I'm too tired to fight it. The spark dies, and I fall into the dark, endless sea he promised. I'm not Rei. I'm nothing.
I give in, and there's only their will, their hands, their shadow left.
I give in, and there's nothing left.
...
There's nothing left.