Iron and shadows

Disclaimer:

This is a fan-created work inspired by the world of My Hero Academia (Boku no Hero Academia), created by Kōhei Horikoshi. All rights to the original characters, settings, and concepts belong to their respective owners. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended for commercial use. The original character Yami Kurogane and the plot of this fanfiction are my own creation.

The next time Yami opened his eyes, he found himself in a sterile white room, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant that felt familiar yet no less repulsive. He remembered his aversion to hospitals in his previous life; those places were mausoleums of hope where illusions faded slowly. But that couldn't distract him from the matter at hand. He had crawled out of the shopping mall, leaving behind a sea of death and destruction.

Where were the heroes? he wondered with contempt. Not a single damn hero had shown up to help him. Where were those clowns with superiority complexes when people truly needed assistance? They spent their time sleeping with absolute eye candy and advertising trashy commercials while real suffering unfolded around them.

Yami decided to stop thinking about that crap. He really didn't want to reflect; he still hadn't gotten over the memories from just days ago. He had been hospitalized for approximately four days. Fortunately, someone had noticed him when he stumbled out of the mall and immediately alerted the paramedics, saving him from dying under the rubble or from severe exhaustion.

As he stared at the hospital's white ceiling, his mind wandered to his aunt. She too had been devastated by the loss of her entire family; losing her little sister and brother-in-law was such a critical blow to her mental health that her eyes looked dead, like those of a living corpse. Yami couldn't decipher her; however, he was no different. He blamed himself for getting attached, for being so weak, for not training as much as he claimed and playing the game of being the perfect child. That crap wouldn't help him.

So he began to plan. His mind kicked into gear, devising strategies on how to become stronger. How could he develop himself so that this wouldn't happen again? He needed to have a plan. Panic had consumed him in that previous situation, but now he wouldn't be a pathetic little coward. As a person with two big balls, he was going to be better than this and put in the necessary effort to never again be so pathetic, so weak.

During his time in the hospital, with the help of a notebook he had found on the bedside table, he began to create a code that only he could understand. Every word written was a promise: he would not be a victim again. He was going to become the fucking master of the world.

As he traced lines and diagrams in the notebook, his thoughts grew darker. Desperation transformed into cold determination; every letter was a brick in the construction of his new self. He couldn't afford to fail again.

The nights turned into indistinguishable days as Yami battled his own inner demons. The visions of the ravaged mall haunted him; every time he closed his eyes, he saw the devouring flames and heard the heart-wrenching screams of those who hadn't been so lucky.

Yet amid the shadows of his mind, a spark began to glow: the possibility of control. If he could master his peculiarity Overload, he could turn that pain into power. No more tears or weakness; only pure strength.

When he finally left the hospital, he did so with renewed resolve and a twisted smile that concealed his true intentions. The outside world seemed darker and more dangerous than ever; every unfamiliar face was a potential threat.

Yami knew he had to prepare for the inevitable: the return of chaos. This time he wouldn't be a powerless spectator; he would be the architect of his own destiny.

With each step toward the hospital exit, he felt darkness beginning to embrace him once more. But this time he didn't fear it; he was ready to confront it.