The night over Musuafu was unnaturally still. Even the hum of the city seemed muted, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Izuku Midoriya, fresh from patrol, felt the weight of the silence pressing down on him. His notebook was tucked under his arm, though for once, he wasn't scribbling observations.
Instead, he stopped
Something was wrong
A teat in the air shimmered before him like glass cracking across reality. It spread, soundless but suffocating, pulling shadows into itself. Deku raised his fists, One For All cracking faintly across his veins.
And then—she stepped through.
Long black hair swayed like ink, emerald flames flickered in her hollow eyes, and chains clinked softly at her side. She didn't belong to this world, and yet the night seemed to bend around her as though it was made for her.
Deku froze. His interest screamed villain, but his heart stuttered with something far more dangerous: fascination.
"...Who are you?" He asked, voice steady desire the weight of her presence.
The woman tilted her head, her expression unreadable. Her wings-bone and shadow-curled inward like a shroud.
"They call me..." she whispered, her voice carrying like wind through a graveyard, "...Dead Master."
The chains slithered across the ground as though alive. Deku shifted into a fighting stance, sweat beading at his temple, but Dead Master only watched him. Her gaze wasn't hungry like Shigaraki's, nor mocking like Dabi's. It was emptier than both—yet for an instant, something flickered inside it.
Recognition? Curiosity? Loneliness?
Deku didn't know. But he knew one thing: whatever she was, she was not here to play the role of a simple villain.
And he couldn't bring himself to look away
