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Chapter Text

Izuku covered his mouth with his hands. It was a last-ditch attempt to muffle his quick breathing. What was he thinking, messing around with dark magic?!

Torch light flickered along the chamber walls, elongating and shortening shadows ominously. It set every one of his nerves on edge. 

Low, raspy groans echoed off the stone. The slow drag of limp feet scraped long and loud on the dusty floor. It grew louder and louder as that thing approached. Izuku pressed himself as tightly as he could against the cool, hard wall. Once he had an opening, he’d make a run for it.

The clank of chains slapping against flesh was like the dull thump of a heartbeat. The slow drag of feet halted entirely, and with a terrified gasp, Izuku held his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as the beast sniffed the air.

The mage trembled, begging the creator to take mercy on him. To not let that abomination find him.

After what felt like an eternity, the slow drag of limp feet resumed. Izuku’s shoulders relaxed, though his heart still pounded against his ribs. Blood rushed in his ears, making it difficult to discern where the creature had stumbled off to. 

This place was like a maze. Five floors beneath the castle. A thousand steps laid between Izuku and the exit to this unholy place. 

Cautiously, the mage peeked over the top of the barrels he’d taken shelter behind. Emerald eyes scanned the shadow-filled halls. Each flicker of flame had his heart skipping a beat, terrified that the abomination had silently returned. 

He took a steadying breath and flexed his fingers. Izuku’s muscles were stiff from adrenaline and a prolonged crouch. His pulse hammered in his ears with each careful step. His boots thudded softly against the stone floor, and he hoped the creature couldn’t pick up his movements. 

As Izuku turned to slip into another room, he caught sight of the thing he’d awakened. Slamming himself against the wall, he held his breath, praying he hadn’t been heard or spotted. He leaned into the doorway, observing.

An explosion of blond spikes haloed a pale face. Dull, scarlet eyes scanned the jars lining the shelved walls with childlike interest. His lips were blue, cracked and black with old blood. A hand reached for one of the jars. A heart floated inside some odd colored liquid and in the light from the torch, Izuku caught sight of the long nails protruding from bony fingers.

Ugly emotions stirred in his chest - guilt, fear, disgust, longing. For years , the mage had studied and traveled from kingdom to kingdom, even going so far as sailing to the other side of the world searching for answers. Desperate for a way to bring back the love he’d lost too soon. But he should have listened. Should have heeded every warning. What is gone can never be brought back. 

A crash made Izuku jump. Glass shattered on the floor, splashing the foul smelling, colorful liquid everywhere. The abomination howled in surprise before getting on all fours and snuffling the ground. A black tongue darted out to lap at the wet stones. The mage flattened himself against the wall again, clenching his fists and shutting his eyes tightly, though it did nothing to block out the wet squelch of the heart being devoured.

With the creature occupied, the mage slipped past. Tears stung at emerald eyes and his breath came quickly with each second that ticked by.

“I’m sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku whispered to himself, wiping his wet eyes on the back of his sleeve.

Whatever he’d brought back, it wasn’t Katsuki. His body was as cold and broken as the day he’d been laid to rest with some nasty little demon shoved inside where the lively blond’s soul should have been.

The mage turned a corner and was met with a dead end. In his emotional state, he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. 

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

The sound of slow, dragging feet echoed from the long hallway from whence he came. Panic began to set in. Izuku’s heart raced in his chest. With a terrified whimper, the mage stumbled, back hitting the cool stone. There was nowhere to run. 

Izuku’s scarred hands shook as the long shadow of his long dead lover stretched across the floor. Tears sprung to his eyes at the first sign of blond hair and pale skin.

A raspy squeal of interest flooded from the corpse’s mouth before it shuffled closer. The abomination was nearly on top of him now, towering over the mage’s cowering form. Dull scarlet eyes stared into emerald. 

For a moment, Izuku thought some clarity may have flickered there.

“K-Kacchan?” he stuttered out. 

The creature halted, sniffing the air and cocking its head as its unblinking gaze assessed the mage. A heartbeat passed…

The reanimated corpse lunged. Izuku screamed in pain and horror as his flesh was consumed. 

Five stories below the castle, no one came to his aid.

Chapter Text

Ochako squeezed her eyes shut tight, pulled her knees to her chest and dragged the quilt over her head. At six years old, she was still very much afraid of the dark. What was worse, Papa got a new job and the whole family had to move across the country. 

Their new house was big, much bigger than the tiny apartment they’d been living in in Tokyo. Neighbors were few and far between, with lots of land separating each house. There were cold spots everywhere. Lights flickered and doors slammed on their own. No matter how many times Ochako told Mama that the house was creepy, no one listened. 

A branch from the twisted old tree outside scraped against the window. The long, high pitched squeal sent a chill down the little girl’s spine.

Floorboards creaked in the hallway. The doorknob jiggled. Ochako pulled the quilt tighter over her head and held her breath. She wanted to cry but was afraid that her whimpers would give the monsters a better chance of finding her.

When the door pushed open slowly and the scrape of wood on wood echoed in the room, the little girl shuddered with fear. Mama and Papa had gone to bed hours ago.

There were no footsteps to signal an approach. No sounds of breathing or whispered words. Just a chill in the air that grew ever closer. 

Suddenly, everything became very still. The wind ceased howling and the tree branch no longer scraped against the window. Distant creaking silenced and the temperature in the room returned to a pleasant warmth.

In a bout of bravery, Ochako lifted the edge of the quilt and peered into the darkness. Her heart thumped so fast she swore it was trying to escape her chest. A pair of golden eyes with cat-like pupils stared back, blinking curiously.

“Hello,” a child’s voice greeted. 

“H-Hello?” Ochako answered, unsure. 

A wide smile stretched on the child’s face, sharp canines glinting in the moonlight streaming through the window. “Do you want to play?”

“What’s your name?”

“Himiko,” the child responded. “And you’re Ochako. I know because you like to sing but your mommy tells you to be quiet.”

The little girl nodded. “How did you get inside? Do you live in one of the other houses nearby? Won’t your parents be worried that you’re not in bed?”

Himiko giggled. “No silly, I live here. C’mon,” she tugged at the quilt still obscuring Ochako’s head. “Let’s play.”

Shivering from the sudden chill, the little girl climbed out of bed. Himiko was of similar height with twin space buns the color of cornsilk. Her dress reminded Ochako of the sailor costumes she saw at the Halloween store when Mama took her shopping over the weekend.

“What should we play first?” she asked.

“Hmm…” Himiko tapped her chin in thought before her eyes lit up mischievously. “I know! Let's draw.”

“I love drawing!” Ochako giggled. “I just got new crayons.” She rushed to her tiny desk and lifted the top, procuring loose sheets of paper and her mega box of crayons. 

Together, the two girls drew on the floor. When footsteps echoed down the hall, Himiko put her fingers to her lips.

“Have to be quiet, or else they’ll find us.”

“Who?” Ochako whispered back.

“Bad people,” Himiko responded, eyes cold as she glared at the bedroom door.

Once the threat had passed, the little blonde girl held up her drawing with a Cheshire grin. “Look! It’s me and Ochako-chan holding hands.”

Ochako’s smiled faded as she saw all the red around them in the drawing. “What’s all that?”

“Blood of course,” Himiko rolled her eyes and pouted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“But why?”

“Because silly, we can’t be friends unless you make your mommy and daddy go away.”

Ice settled in Ochako’s stomach. “But I don’t want Mama and Papa to go away.”

Himiko’s pout grew, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Ochako-chan doesn’t want to be my friend?”

“Of course I do!”

The bedroom door flew open, making Ochako yelp and jump. Mama stood in the doorway, looking very tired.

“Ochako, sweetie, what are you doing out of bed?”

“Playing with Himiko-chan,” the little girl answered. “We were drawing, see!” She picked up the picture of her and the little blonde girl holding hands and smiling. Rainbows and birds were drawn all across the page. 

But Mama’s face was twisted. “Ochako, go back to bed.”

“Mama?”

“I said get in bed now,” her mother’s voice shook. Ochako had never heard her sound like that.

Even scarier was the way Mama gripped her arm and dragged her harshly, kicking away the crayons and drawings. Ochako looked back at her new friend.

“But what about Himiko-chan?”

“Enough about your imaginary friend, sweetie. You have school tomorrow. You need rest.” Mama tucked her in and kissed her forehead.

When the door was shut and footsteps receded to the master bedroom, Ochako huffed and looked around her room. Himiko was gone.

Every night for months, Himiko came to visit Ochako. They played dolls, drew pictures, and sometimes jumped from bed to chair, pretending the floor was lava. 

Himiko always asked Ochako if they were friends and Ochako always said yes. 

School was hard. Especially a new one with kids who saw her as an outsider and didn’t let her join in their games. But Himiko was nice…even if she made odd demands at times.

More and more often Himiko told Ochako to do strange things. Like when she told her to put fertilizer in Papa’s coffee. Or that time she was convinced to set fire to Mama’s favorite dress. 

Himiko was lonely and had some crazy ideas, but she was never mean to Ochako and she never lied like adults did. She was good and Ochako loved her.

A year after moving into the big house, Ochako’s parents invited a stranger over. The tall lady brought a big bag of trinkets - crystals, bundles of sage, little chimes, and a big container of salt. She wore too much makeup and said silly words while she walked around the house.

Himiko hid in the closet when the strange lady went into Ochako’s bedroom.

“Mama, why is she here? Make her leave. She’s scaring Himiko-chan!” Ochako shouted. 

“Who is Himiko-chan?” The lady asked.

The little girl glared at her. “My friend! You’re scaring her, so I don’t like you.”

“Ochako! That was very rude. Apologize.” Papa demanded.

She stomped her foot. “No!” 

“Ochako-chan, they’re trying to make me leave. They don’t want us to be friends anymore. You can’t let them!” Himiko cried from the closet.

“Get out! Get out! Get out!” Ochako screeched until her throat was raw.

Mama and Papa looked at each other oddly before urging the strange lady out of the bedroom. The door closed and Himiko crawled out of the closet.

“Are you okay?” she asked her friend. The little blonde girl sniffled and shook her head.

Mama and Papa’s voices wafted in from the hallway. It was muffled, so the two little girls pressed their ears to the door to listen.

“She doesn’t sleep and all she talks about is her imaginary friend.”

“The school called last month and told us she was bullying the other children. It’s so unlike her!”

“She talks to herself all the time but when we ask, Ochako says she’s playing with this Himiko-chan.”

“It was a very good thing you called me,” the strange lady said. “We’ll do a cleanse and your little angel will be right as rain in no time.”

“They don’t want us to be friends,” Himiko whispered. “But you want to be my friend, right Ochako-chan?”

“You’re my only friend, Himiko-chan,” she answered truthfully. “I want to be together forever.”

Similar to the first night they met, the little girl’s eyes shimmered gold and cat-like as a Cheshire grin stretched across her face. “Then we will be.”

That evening at dinner, Ochako put liquid and Mama and Papa’s tea. Himiko said it would make them sleepy, and sure enough, they went to bed early. The little girl snuck downstairs. Her hand was clasped in Himiko’s as her friend led her down the staircase, avoiding all the squeaky steps. 

“Are you sure about this?” Ochako asked nervously.

“Of course,” the little blonde girl nodded. “This way we can be together forever.”

“Okay.”

They riffled through drawers quietly until they found a book of matches. Himiko showed her how to light them and urged her to burn the curtains. Orange flames flickered to life, consuming the flowery material in a few minutes. Soon, it spread to the walls and ceiling. Smoke filled the room making Ochako’s throat itching and her eyes burn.

“What now?” she asked, turning around to consult her friend. 

“Do you trust me?” Himiko asked, hand outstretched. The flames were reflected in her golden eyes, making them flicker red and orange.

“Of course,” Ochako smiled and took her hand. The same looking bottle she had poured into Mama and Papa’s tea was pressed into her other palm. 

“Drink this and then we can be together forever.”

“Will it make me sleepy?”

Himiko nodded. “Remember all the stories I told you of my favorite place? Once you drink that, we can go there and live together forever!”

Ochako, always trusting her best friend, smiled and drank the liquid. It was bitter and made her tummy burn. She coughed and gagged, but when she tried to drop the bottle, Himiko forced it back to her lips.

“You have to drink it all, Ochako-chan!”

“I’m scared!” she cried, shaking her head to avoid the bitter, nasty liquid. 

The flames were everywhere. Heat licked at Ochako’s skin and smoke filled her lungs. The harder she cried, the more furious Himiko became.

“Drink it!”

“I don’t wanna!” Ochako screamed, smacking the little blonde girl.

Golden eyes shifted to a striking red before Himiko struck her to the ground. 

Ochako cried harder as her mouth was forced open and the bitter liquid slipped down her throat, making her choke. Her whole body burned. Whether it was from the flames or the fluid she’d been forced to drink she didn’t know. 

“Himiko, why?” she sniffled, looking up at the girl she’d called a friend.

“Because you’re my best friend,” the blonde answered. “And now, we can be together…forever.”

The following morning, when the fire department shifted through the smoldering wreckage, they found three bodies. Evidence of the matchbook led to a news story of the tragic accident - a child, playing with matches, set the house ablaze, killing everyone inside. 

Unbeknownst to the living, a little girl with twin buns the color of cornsilk stood among the remains of the burned house, clasping the hand of her best friend and grinning with delight.

Chapter Text

There once was a girl renowned for her beauty. On the day over her birth, the entire kingdom rejoiced, heralding her existence. A perfect angel, her parents called her. All the maids, nannies, tutors and suitors whispered with reverence about Toru’s blessed good looks. 

Her pale skin was the perfect canvas for her sparkling teal eyes. Not a single blemish marred her complexion when so many teenagers were afflicted with pimples and sunspots. 

Many men came from all over just to gaze upon her beauty. Having all of the world fawning over her beauty made Toru a vain girl. She wore the latest fashions - silk dresses accented by pearls and precious gems. Though not born into royalty, she may as well have been with the way peasants dropped to their knees when she entered a room. 

Toru loved compliments. Any pretty words that praised her looks made the girl giggle. She knew how beautiful she was, but hearing it from others was even better. The day she met Mashirao made her heart flutter like no other. He was an apothecary. Not high born or wealthy, but the plain looking man wrote sonnets about her - building palaces and cathedrals to worship her beauty. 

They were married soon after. The wedding was attended by the entire kingdom with many of Toru’s former suitors glaring with jealousy at the plain man who had won the gorgeous girl’s heart.

Years of paradise went by. Toru and her lovely husband, Mashirao, attended the most lavish parties. They wore the latest fashions and were fawned over by all the other attendees. Toru ate it up, batting her eyelashes at any who looked her way. Men approached her, propositioning her. They all used the same tactic. Mashirao wasn’t a threat to them. Just a plain man who’d gotten lucky.

But they did not know what he was capable of.

For you see, Mashirao was no ordinary man. From a young age he was able to make others do his bidding. A few pretty words, and their mind was his. Toru was no different. She was vain and pretty - easy to control.

Sipping wine from the corner of the dance hall, Mashirao watched as his wife giggled and swatted a high born “gentleman” with her fan. Another piece of scum encroaching on his territory. 

It happened at every party - whether it be a gala or afternoon tea. Toru attracted attention. Demanded it even.

While Mashirao had told himself his wife was beautiful and now, all his. He knew the truth. Unless he tightened his control on Toru, she would be lost to him.

He pushed off the wall, and plucked a crystal glass of blood colored wine from a butler tray as he sauntered over to his wife.

“A drink, Love?” Mashirao inquired, bending over Toru to place a kiss on her bare shoulder. His eyes flicked to the propositioner. Satisfaction rolled in his gut at the sour look on the nobody’s face.

“Thank you, Dear!” Toru giggled, downing half the goblet in a single gulp. “I was feeling parched.”

“I live to please,” he responded with a smile, flicking the diamond chandelier earring dangling from her lobe.

His wife giggled and sipped the remaining wine. “Oh, might I introduce you to-”

“I was just leaving,” the man bowed his head, scowl still in place. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Hmph,” Toru pouted. “We were having such a lovely conversation.”

“Nothing is as lovely as you, Darling,” Mashirao told her. “Skin as radiant as the moon’s glow. Eyes as deep as a glassy lake filled with the most vibrant flowers. I could stare into these eyes for all eternity and I would never be satisfied.”

His wife swooned. “I love the way you weave words, my love.”

“Shall we dance?” He suggested, offering the beautiful woman his arm.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Toru’s smile sparkled and Mashirao was filled with satisfaction that it was directed at him. This was right. She was only for him. No one else. And if he could not have her…no one could.

Three days later, Mashirao was startled awake by a scream from the vanity. Toru was clawing at her face in the mirror.

“No no! This cannot be happening!”

“My love?” He asked, walking toward his wife.

Toru flipped the mirror and screeched. “Mashirao, do not look at me! I’m hideous!”

“You’re a radiant beauty. Now let me see,” he assured his wife.

She turned her face up to him and the man was met with an interesting sight. His lips twitched. “My dear, these are but wrinkles. They happen to everyone.”

“They do not happen to me ,” Toru hissed. Those glittering teal eyes filled with furious tears. “I need more makeup. No one can see. I am the epitome of beauty. What will people think if they see wrinkles ?!”

“They will think you human, my love.”

His beautiful wife scoffed. “I am a perfect angel. Aging is for fools and peasants. I am neither.”

“I will make you something to clear this up then,” Mashirao promised with a gentle kiss to her cheek.

His hands shook as he concocted a serum in his lab. Droplets of clear liquid dripped into a tin of pale makeup, Toru’s favorite brand of foundation. 

When presented with the fresh tin, his wife applied a thick coat, making her pale complexion even more ghost like. 

After that, every morning was the same. Toru fussed about the marks on her face. The grooves etched deeper, making her cake on more and more foundation. 

Less suitors propositioned his wife and the ladies in attendance whispered behind Toru’s back for different reasons. Instead of hissing like snakes, jealous of her beauty, they snickered like foxes. 

Anger fell upon their home. Toru screeched as if possessed by a banshee, trashing her vanity and ripping her expensive gowns. Mashirao was there to pick up the pieces. To hold his wife and whisper sweet words in her ear. 

Soon, the wrinkles etched so deeply in his wife’s skin, that they cut to the bone. Black lines carved open her face. They oozed with infection and itched so badly Toru’s hands shook with the desperation to scratch. 

Disgusted and horrified, the mistress of the house ordered every mirror to be covered or smashed. She covered her skin in product, but when that did not hide her deteriorating beauty, Toru turned to veils. 

Mashirao continued to write sonnets about his wife, weaving words like a charmer to a snake. 

Humiliated and repulsed by her own appearance, Toru hid away in her mansion. She covered herself in cloth from head to toe. Minimal staff had interactions with her. No one saw her face…ever. 

The gala invitations ceased. The suitors did not come knocking. Mashirao was the only constant in her life. 

Toru sat in her chair peering out the second story window. A black veil covered her grotesque face. How she longed to be out there once again. All her life, she’d been fawned over and loved by everyone. Now, she was but an invisible woman. 

Rumors began to reach her ears. The servants whispered in the night when Toru sat silently in her chair, peering down at the street from the second story window. 

A horrid apparition lived in her home. A dark spirit that had murdered the entire family. Vengeful, horrid. It was the only explanation for the disappearance of the young beauty and her plain husband. 

Her face itched again. Toru sucked in a breath and let the curtain fall back, separating her from the couple walking the street below. She reached beneath the veil to scratch, hissing at the burning pain it caused. Her fingers came away bloody, smelling of infection. 

A sob wracked her frame. Mashirao’s familiar, warm hand landed on her shoulder. Under his breath, he whispered sweet words. She shrugged off his touch and lifted her veil.

Through the gap in the curtains, she caught a glimpse of herself. Teeth peeked from the sore on her cheek where infection had eaten away at her skin. What was once a perfect, radiant complexion, was now horrid and twisted. She had lost her nose to necrosis, her sight was beginning to fail, clouding her once glittering teal eyes. 

The beauty was gone, sapped from her very being. Mashirao smiled at her, but it just made her stomach churn. 

Why did he stay? She was no longer worth anyone’s gaze. Only pretty things were meant to be admired. Still, her love stayed by her side. Mashirao loved her anyway. 

The rest of the world moved on. The pretty ladies were invited to galas and were fawned over by highborn men with devastating smirks. Gossip continued to be whispered behind fans and over drinks. The once gorgeous Toru was forgotten, becoming all but invisible to the society that once praised her for every little thing.

Chapter Text

Rikido Sato was the best candy maker within 100 miles of the small town of Musutafu. He made every kind - gummies that burst in your mouth, sour hard candies that made your mouth pucker and eyes water, chocolates that were so sweet and addicting. He had it all. 

Every day after school, all the kids came to Sato’s shop for a delicious treat on their way home. Most were polite, but some were brats. The candymaker shooed them away with threats of calling their parents. Everyone knew everyone; it was a small town.

One night, when the streets were quiet and the only sound in the vicinity was the buzz of the neon sign above Sato’s Sweets, glass shattered. Display cases were destroyed, candies were bagged, money was stolen from the register.

Mister Sato was devastated by the attack. The children demanded more candy for days on end, uncaring of the poor man’s distress. They only cared about the sweets. 

No one found the culprits, but rumors spread. Teenagers gloated about their “haul.” Sato was sure the local high school punks were responsible, but when he urged the police to look into it he was met with resistance. Of course, one of the kids Sato suspected was the Police Chief's son. 

Well, Halloween was just around the corner and Sato’s Sweets was the only shop that sold treats for the holiday. Well, not the only, but anywhere else sold those disgusting bags of mass-produced sweets packed with fake sugar and artificial colors. 

The candymaker refused to let some factory produced candies be the highlight for trick-or-treating.

He got to work in his boarded up shop. Vats of molten sugar spun in the kitchen, buttery cocoa melted in the double boiler and Sato put a few extra ingredients into his delicious concoctions. Something special for the little brats who sought to ruin his life’s work and make a fool of him.

He worked day and night to be ready for the biggest candy holiday of the year. He wouldn’t stop until he had enough special treats for every child in town, suffering burns from scalding sugar and getting high from fumes in the kitchen. 

Sato’s single minded focus paid off. He had produced loads and loads of his famous candies. While he couldn’t open his shop to customers, he was able to sell from a table just outside. The neon sign flickered and buzzed as the candymaker sat well into the night until the last bag was carried home by an excited family.

Soon…those brats would pay.

On the night of Halloween, the streets were packed with children all dressed up in costumes. Doorbells rang, fists knocked on wood, teenagers tp’d yards and threw eggs at passing cars. A typical haunted holiday. With every chant of “trick-or-treat” buckets, bags, and pillowcases were filled with Sato’s sweets.

If only they knew they were all receiving a trick this year.

Every child did what children do. They dumped their candy on the floor, traded with their friends and consumed sweets before bed. 

The sirens blared all night. Flashing lights colored blue and red painted the town as child after child was rushed to the hospital. An epidemic of tummy aches led to bloody stool and vomit. Some cut their tongues and gums on razor blades and chips of glass. It was only a matter of time before the police came for him next.

Rikido Sato, candymaker in the small town of Musutafu, patiently mixed sugar in his shop. The box of powdered rat poison was dumped into the vat. It blended quickly and soon, the man was folding molten sugar and cutting it into tiny pieces of hard candies. 

On the morning of November 1st, the police came knocking on the boarded up door to Sato’s Sweets. They shouted through the obstruction with all manner of threats. They said he would hang and everyone would cheer when his neck snapped.

There was no answer from inside the store. No echoing of approaching footsteps or shouts of mercy. Even the familiar buzz from the neon sign above had gone silent. 

The door was broken down. Police rushed in, ready to chase, capture and beat. How could a man who made such wonderful sweets hurt a bunch of children? 

When the force stomped into the kitchen it was to a gruesome sight. Rikido Sato, slumped over a spinning vat of sugar, colored red by the blood dripping from the man’s mouth, eyes and nose. 

His body was bagged and sent to the morgue for autopsy. An elevated amount of rat poison was reported to be the cause of death. The candymaker was buried a week later. Many attended his funeral, mostly to spit on his grave. But every child still able to attend tossed a sweet atop the casket.

Though Sato was gone and his sweet shop was demolished, every year thereafter on Halloween night, when kids returned from trick-or-treating, parents looked through their candy haul to check for hidden dangers.