Broken Identity ~ ShinDeku and Demon Deku

[Epilogue] Hello Again, Midoriya

It's been two years since Shinso's death. 

After they dragged me out of the room and delivered the news to his foster dads...well, let's just say the three of us haven't been the same. Eraserhead works late nights at U.A more often and Present Mic is almost always out doing his radio show or hero work.

Which leaves me.

All alone.

.

.

.

Due to severe mental trauma related to losing my boyfriend and best friend, the courts have declared my punishment of 24/7 surveillance void and null.

Now I spend most of my days roaming the park or hanging out around the cat cafe that Shinso and I had our first date at. The cat that took a liking to Shinso still hangs around at our booth. He waits for Shinso's return, and so do I.

But he's not coming back.

.

.

.

Today the sun is shining bright, and I sit on a park bench secluded from the rest of the park where happy couples and exuberant children play with pets and have picnics.

The sun shines brightly down on my face, almost as if the sky is smiling at me. I cherish the warmth, but it only reminds me of the way I held Shinso's face as he passed away in my very hands. It's been over two years, yet I can still recall his laugh and the way he was so clever about using that quirk of his.

The flashbacks aren't so bad, it's the nightmares that I can't stand.

One of the only reasons I sit on this bench right now is because the crisp breeze that rolls over my skin takes my mind off of the horror of losing my beloved. 

Luckily, since my identity is out there, I'm now able to roam freely as my true self. I sit back and stretch my wings before bringing one out to me and stroking the plush feathers. The purple strikes of lightning that once scarred my wings are now a distant reminder of a missing presence. It's only now that I take a true moment to inspect the odd markings.

It truly does look like tiny bits of lightning, except it's not exactly a scar as I've described it previously. More of a discoloration. The pieces of black and green have instead been magically converted to a lush, pastel purple color. 

I know it's been longer than Hell itself that he's been gone, but when I first saw the purple streaks in my wings...I didn't recall them looking quite like this. I leaned my head in closer and plucked two feathers from the mass.

Drawing them closer to my eyes, I held the feathers in front of myself and studied them. On the feather plucked from the top of my wings, the purple streaks look normal. However, the purple starts to fade into a deep maroon color on the feather pulled from the bottom of the wings. 

A feeling of dread set itself into my gut and I quickly stood in an attempt to fight the atrocious and unwanted feeling. The feathers fluttered to the ground and I took a deep breath before making my way down the windy path out of the empty section of the park.

I stared at the sky as a wave of nostalgia and unease mixed themselves together and churned within me. I stopped and listened for a moment. There was a distinct and rhythmic clack-clack coming from behind me. 

Somebody was walking on the stone path.

My limbs froze as the nauseating feeling inside me grew tenfold. Without warning, the clacking stopped, and I was vaguely aware of the presence stationed directly behind me.

My head snapped to the right as an arm appeared over my shoulder. My heart pummeled in my chest and my breathing hitched. Two familiar feathers were held in the gloved hand before me. 

For a moment, the feathers levitated above the glove. A millisecond later, they combusted into a small pile of ash, and the hand withdrew. 

Self-preservation kicked in, and I instinctually lunged backward in hopes of catching the attacker off guard. I thought they had fled until my still moving hand made contact with something resembling an arm.

The attacker screamed and pushed me off of them, and it was then that I realized my glove was missing. When I turned to face the assailant, their head was down and their arm had a black, burnt handprint on the side of it from where my disintegration quirk had activated.

They were slightly taller than me, and a large pair of maroon wings were attached to their back. A tail similar to mine swished behind them devilishly, and the short, stud horns atop their head looked sharp as an arrow.

However, what caught me off guard were the forest-green lightning streaks that crisscrossed the assailant's wings.

I took a step back as they spoke. A rough, calloused voice. One that had been through many a hard time. One that had been permanently scarred.

He snarled. "Hello again, Midoriya." It wasn't kind, and it wasn't welcoming either.

At that point, I knew.

Hitoshi Shinso had returned

.

.

.

but he wasn't the same, and he wasn't mine.