My Hero Academia: Sketchbook of Madness

Prologue

Elijah's heel kept up a rhythmic tap-tap-tap on the ground, like a metronome lulling him into some sort of trance. He heard echoes of his dad's voice in his head, mixed with the jabber of those lab-coat-clad scientists who'd poked and prodded at him like he was some kind of lab rat. The bench under him was as welcoming as a bed of nails, with splinters that seemed eager to say hello to his skin.

"Get your act together, Elijah," he muttered to himself, sounding half-asleep.

He finally lifted his head, catching sight of a lightbulb dangling on a wire, swinging softly. It was like the world's least enthusiastic cheerleader, casting judgmental light over him. Elijah straightened up, his back popping in protest, like someone stepping on bubble wrap. He gave his face a good, sharp slap, a wake-up call that tinged his cheeks with a sting as sweet as victory.

Shoe time. Elijah wiggled a finger into his shoe, tugging it on in a move as graceful as a cat burglar. He stood up, stretched his neck with a crack that would make a chiropractor wince, and sauntered over to a door that blinked like a faulty firefly.

Taking a deep breath, he felt his chest tighten like a coiled spring. Exhaling, his breath fogged up in front of his eyes, like his own personal misty morning.

"Alright, showtime," he declared, voice steady as a heartbeat.

He twisted the doorknob and stepped through, landing on a metal platform that felt colder than a polar bear's nose. There was this funky little blue screen on the wall, boasting a holographic palm right in the center. Elijah pressed his hand against it, and it was like a high-five from the future. The screen glowed green, and he felt like he'd just been given the green light in a race.

[Elijah Lamora: Ready]

[Isaiah Lamora: Ready]

[Initiating sparring match 3/3]

The announcement floated through the air, barely registering in Elijah's brain. He was all revved up, a mix of nerves and excitement. He'd lost round one, clinched round two, and there was no way he was letting round three slip away. The platform gave a sudden lurch, shooting upwards faster than a homesick angel. Elijah's stomach did a somersault, that all-too-familiar weirdness twisting inside him. As they reached the top, the roof peeled back, revealing the training arena he'd practically grown up in since his quirk awakened.

Elijah's eyes flicked to the men in white coats behind the glass on the second floor, tapping away on their tablets. They formed a semi-circle around a towering figure, his father, muscles bulging, arms behind his back, and eyes sharp as daggers.

"Father..." he whispered under his breath, a mix of reverence and resolve in his voice. His gaze shifted, locking onto the boy across from him-his twin brother, Isaiah, his mirror in looks but his opposite in every other way. Their quirks made them natural rivals, the perfect storm of opposing forces.

Wasting no time, Elijah burst into a sprint. His quirk, Kinetic Sync, kicked in, transforming the energy of his movement into a burst of speed. The air whipped against his face as he circled the arena, the wind growing fierce with his increasing velocity.

Isaiah watched, unphased. His quirk was a subtle but formidable force. With a thought, he altered the friction beneath Elijah's feet, turning the solid ground slick as ice. But Elijah was quick, his feet forcefully sinking into the floor, deforming it into rough footholds.

Isaiah's eyes turned into slits, his stance widening like he was about to take on a bull. He watched Elijah, who was moving faster than a caffeinated squirrel, and prepared for the incoming human missile.