Izuku Midoriya was tired of it all.
He was tired of the abuse, the neglect. Of the hate and lies. Of the pain and anger.
But most of all, he was tired of letting himself have false hope.
And the ten-year-old boy finally snapped.
During another of Inko and Hisashi's torture sessions, he took the knife he had pillfered from the kitchen, and stabbed them both. He slashed at their bodies until they were no longer recognizable. The sheer rage, all consuming.
He and the living room were drenched in blood, bits of the elder Midoriyas scatteres about the space.
He calmly climbed the stairs to his room and collected the few things that mattered. A photo of he and he childhood friend, a journal, and a few articals of clothing.
Then, he walked out the front door, knife in hand, not once turning back.
He walked.
He walked until he couldn't anymore and not once did he thing of the bodies he left behind or the congealed blood he was coated in.
Only when he knew he was nowhere nead he former home did he collapse in an abandonded alley.
Just to be killed by a faceless man, uncaring of a small boy.
Izuku felt himself floating in a dark abis.
"I don't think so." A female voice like silken sin says.
A chalace appears in front of Izuku's mouth, held by a stunning woman with think dark purple hair.
"Drink." She murmurs.
Izuku had nothing left to loose. So, he drank.
He could feel his body change.
Feel the power strike through him like lightening.
The knowledge of another world, another power, pound its way through his skull.
"Perfect." She coos, "Absolutly perfect. You'll never suffer again. I'll protect you, my son. If you'll let me."
"Yes." Izuku mummbles, "I will."
"Good. My child. Izuku Kayama. Sone of pro hero, Midnight. Princess of Hell."
That was seven years ago.