Chapter Text
There were birds chirping outside the window. If that wasn't odd enough, there was also sunlight streaming through the cracks of the blinds covering most of the window. The sheets of his bed were surprisingly soft, and Tomura Shigaraki definitely felt warmer than usual.
Something had woken him up, though, and it was the incessant beeping of an alarm clock that he definitely does not remember purchasing. If Dabi thought that it would be funny to sneak one into his bedroom, then he was going to disintegrate all of the stupid staples that held him together.
Tomura pulled the covers around him tighter, attempting to block out the noise. When that didn't work, he kept his eyes squeezed shut and slid his arm out from under the covers, swatting blindly in the area the alarm was going off. He finally managed to locate the clock, laying all five of his fingers on the screaming black box.
Nothing happened. The alarm still pierced the air. He frowned, blinking open his eyes and trying to rub the sleep out of them. He stared at what he thought to be an indestructible alarm clock. He rubbed his fingertips together, making sure that he wasn't wearing his two-finger gloves. Which, he wasn't, and that was strange in itself.
Tomura made a point of putting his gloves on every night, otherwise he disintegrated almost all of the blankets. Kurogiri was... not a happy camper when that happened. The League couldn't afford to replace the amount of blankets and sheets and mattresses Tomura tended to decay. So, the fact that he wasn't turning everything to dust right then, when he wore no gloves, and, as far as he knew, still alive, was... startling.
However, it was not as startling as the banging coming from the other side of the wall and the following shout.
"Oi! Fucking shitty Deku! Turn that shit off!"
Tomura froze. Deku...? The hero-in-training brat that's been a thorn in his side for the longest? As his eyes adjusted and he forced himself to look around the room, he noticed the overwhelming amount of All Might merchandise and he felt his lip curl in distaste. This certainly wasn't the dusty and decrepit room that belonged to him at the League's base. Was he at U.A? They had dorms implemented, didn't they? The voice sounded... rather familiar, at that. He shook his head. Whatever. He needed to figure out a way to get out of here before they realized their precious Deku was missing.
He pushed himself off the bed, stumbling a few steps towards the desk. He felt... shorter. He fumbled on his feet awkwardly, unsure as to why it felt so weird to stand. Did they drug him and bring him here? Did they want to see what he did? They being the Pro Heroes, of course.
The man grumbled to himself, raising his hand to scratch at his neck, becoming irritated. His eyes landed on the notebook on the side of the desk labeled Hero Analysis for the Future No. 13. Tomura's hands immediately reached out to snatch it, quickly skimming through the pages. There was... so much information. On so many different people. It seems that Deku was actually quite smart. Why did he act so reckless, then?
There was a tab dividing the notebook halfway, and he flipped to it, sucking in a sharp breath when he noticed that hastily scribbled in chunky, English block letters was LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. Carefully, Tomura flipped to the next page, and like all the Heroes from earlier in the notebook, each member had sketches on one page and information on the other. It was kind of... startling to see his comrades in someone's notebook. Just as he was about to become offended that he wasn't in the book - even Dabi, the asshole, was in it! His sketch looked really nice, too! - he reached the last page, and noticed that there wasn't a ton of information on him. His name, physical description, his Quirk... His eyes scanned the page, noting the Possible Uses heading and swallowed.
Deku had listed a ton of ways his quirk could be used to help. Trapped citizens, if there's something tangible that Tomura could touch that was causing a mess. Even ways to help clean up after natural disasters. He read underneath any known limitations, and he wasn't surprised to see that ‘five finger activation,' but he felt something ugly settle in his stomach as he stared at the next bullet.
It was ‘himself.'
He shut the notebook, nearly slamming it on the table in irritation. That brat...! The absolute nerve of that wannabe-hero! He wanted to say that Tomura was his own limitation? Why? Because he didn't stick to a Heroes' ideal?! How annoying. He felt his eye twitch in irritation.
When Tomura turned around to stalk back towards the bed, he saw something. Just out of the corner of his eye, Tomura noticed movement. There wasn't anyone else around as far as he knew, but he couldn't be too sure. The knock on the door startled him, and he jumped a bit. Alone, and without his quirk, he would be quickly overpowered. He wasn't a hand-to-hand combatant, after all. There must be some sort of Quirk neutralizer over the building. That's good to know for the League's next attack. "Deku-kun!" A voice called out, "if you don't hurry, you're going to be late!" Tomura turned towards the door, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. He was a bit surprised to not feel his lips split, but thought nothing of it.
Until he noticed his reflection.
Well, no, not his reflection because that was certainly not him staring back at him with a slackened jaw wide eyes. "No way..." he muttered, and it was so, so strange to hear the teen's voice with his words.
"Deku-kun?" The voice called out again, and he grimaced. He hadn't realized that she was still on the other side of the door.
"Yeah," he called out, Deku's voice ringing in his ears. "I'll, uh, I'll be out in a sec." He said nervously.
There was an affirmative answer chirped back to him - back to Deku - but Tomura didn't focus on it. Instead, he stared at his reflection in the medium sized square mirror.
What the actual fuck.
Tomura took a step towards the mirror, eyes wide as he stared at... well, Deku. The green haired teen had unruly curls that were mixed with black, toning down the brightness. Freckles splashed across his face that Tomura hadn't originally noticed; whether it was because he hadn't been close enough or didn't care to pay attention, he didn't know. His - Deku's hands rose to poke and prod at his face, and he noticed how many scars littered the boy's hands and arms. What could have caused this? An abusive home environment...? That didn't seem to be the case. With such a powerful quirk, Tomura couldn't see the boy not using it in self defense if he had been raised that way. Could it be from training? With the other students? Or self-inflicted?
Izuku had neatly filed nails that squared off evenly, with thick fingers. They contrasted starkly against the mental image of his own long and knobby ones.
(Toga offhandedly commented on how he should play piano. He scoffed at the ridiculous notion before turning away and stomping to his room.
On that night, he asked Kurogiri to get him a keyboard. For all of twenty minutes, Tomura tapped on keys with one finger. He got a bit more confident, but within the next three minutes, the keyboard decayed into dust. He hadn't thought to use his special gloves. A little past midnight, Dabi had found him sitting cross-legged in front of a pile of dust with his eyes a bit redder than usual. The other didn't comment on anything, simply pulled Tomura to his feet with an eye roll, shoved the gloves on his fingers and then dropped him onto the ratty mattress.
"I'll teach you how to play tomorrow," his voice carried across the darkened room. "Get some sleep. Kurogiri said to stay off your video games."
The next day, Dabi showed up with another keyboard, and Tomura was floored. He had thought the other was joking, or just trying to make him feel better - a joke, really.
Dabi was patient and willing to answer questions. He spoke softly, almost nostalgically as he taught Tomura where middle C was found and which fingers and keys were needed for the G Major chord in root position.
Tomura didn't ask how Dabi knew how to play, and Dabi never offered the information up. They had lessons unofficially scheduled every day after that; a break from being the leader and the right-hand of the League of Villains.
During those times they were just Tomura and Dabi.)
His eyes dropped down to the smooth neck that had long, red welted lines from where he had scratched. Even without his usual body, it seems that it was a force of habit.
He absently thought that you can take the conscience out of the man, but can't take the man out of the conscience.
He glanced around the bedroom, face twisting into a grimace. He assumed the teen's clothes were in the dresser, and that whatever Deku usually used for class was in the bag by the door, but... Tomura didn't know exactly what to do. He didn't know whatever routine Deku had, didn't know the rest of the brats in Class 1-A (he hadn't cared to know. All he did know was that he tried to decay some frog girl's face), and he didn't even know how to get to the guy's homeroom.
A homeroom, he just realized, that was taught by Eraserhead.
His eye twitched again. Did Deku have some sort of nervous system problem? Tomura's positive his eyes never twitched this much.
He didn't want to particularly deal with the pro hero at all. Or any of the other heroes, if he were being honest. God, he really wished he could call Dabi. The guy had a burner phone, didn't he? Tomura hadn't memorized the number, though... This was bound to be a shit show once U.A found that he wasn't their precious Deku. It would have been great to have Kurogiri warp him away once things turned sour, but it was unlikely that he'd have that opportunity.
Wait, how long has he been standing there? If the voice that had told him he was going to be late really meant it, then he was definitely late by now. He had gotten lost in thought, and ended up just staring at the body he's inhabiting in the mirror.
Tomura didn't have a plan, and that was one of the most important things to have. This glitch in the game was happening, and there was nothing he could do to reload the last save. He certainly didn't like this game mod, but he would have to play and hope for the best. Maybe this meant that his stealth and illusion skills needed to be raised? Whatever it was, he didn't like it.
He didn't like it, not because when he looked in the mirror, there was no sparkle in emerald eyes - no hope or lingering kindness, nor any determination or resolve, not when Tomura noticed that he gave the other's eyes a dull, cynical glaze. He didn't like it because for some reason, there was a squeezing in his chest and he wondered if the student had a medical condition the League was unaware of. What would happen to Tomura if Deku's body decided to give out? Would Tomura die with it? Would he be flung back into his own body?
Too many questions he didn't have answers to shot through his mind, and not for the first time, Tomura wished Dabi was there.