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Deku

You hadn’t had a real nights sleep since the attack. Each night was either filled with insomnia, night terrors, broken hearted sobs. You hadn’t touched the sleeping medication your doctor prescribed either. Afraid of possible side effects. 

You were afraid of so much now. 

Lying awake in bed - tonight my psyche had chosen insomnia. Honestly the was the worst of the three options because it left you with hours to replay the incident, to psychoanalyze the attacker, to think forward about how the lives of everyone you knew had changed. 

You’ve tried telling yourself that he isn’t Present Mic, that the hero Present Mic had never really existed. Heroes don’t go around destroying schools or maiming their coworkers. Coworkers who were supposed to be his friends. 

He had killed Principle Nezu. Nearly cost you your hearing. The school had to close for the foreseeable future because of how bad the damage was. And they still couldn’t find Aizawa’s body. 

Mic and Aizawa had dated for years but on the day of the attack they fought each other tooth and nail. Aizawa and All Might had teamed up to protect the Principle and in the end Aizawa must’ve blinked. The villain's voice brought the ceiling crumbling down. Ending Nezu’s life and trapping All Might beneath the rubble. 

Aizawa’s was unable to be located. 

Present Mic - no, Hizashi - had been collecting information from the prestigious school ever since he was a student. Beginning after the incident. To him, the school system was to blame for all the harm done to his friends. 

As if four years of mediocre training could prepare literal children for fights they didn’t stand a chance in. 

He had tried, truly he had, to convince himself that things were changing for the better. That he could be a part of the solution. Over the years more steps were taking place to protect the students. 

He thought he was going about it the “right” way. 

Until he got into one final argument with All Might, Nezu, Midnight, and even Eraserhead. 

Nobody was listening to him about how much they were hurting the students, about how traumatized these children had become. Apparently, the students had to learn the hard way. So Mic was done with pretending to enjoy the system, he was done trying to overlook the crimes of heroes and their institutions, and he was done not being listened to.

But you listened.

Any time he would be in a fit of frustration he would come into your office and vent. You never judged him. You never questioned what he felt. You told him you understood.

And Hizashi knew you really did. You weren’t saying those things just because you’re the school's counselor.

Finally giving up on sleep, you crawled out of bed a little before 5 AM. The sun was barely starting to rise and the air was still cold. Maybe a walk would do you some good.

You had to stop for a break at the farthest point of your walk from your house. Back still hurting from the attack. From when the vibrations from his yells had knocked you into a set of bleachers. 

You decided to stretch before returning. As you started heading home the sound of whistling stopped you in your tracks. A shiver ran down your spine. Looking around you find nothing. No one. You convinced yourself it was the wind, you had to.

It wasn’t until you got back home that the whistling returned. 

Specifically right as you locked the front door behind you. 

The sharp sound came from the living room. Just a single high note. 

There he is, sitting on your couch as if he just stopped by for a chat. 

Instinctively your hands shoot to cover your ears. “Mic?” 

 “Maybe let’s not use that name. Zashi still works though.” He raises his hands in surrender, trying to encourage you to lower your guard. He didn’t stand up, he actually sank further into the couch. He was still wearing his signature leather jacket. His hair tied into a loose bun. 

My muscles coil, tightening as he finally stands. We’ve never raced but with my back as painful as it is would definitely put me at a disadvantage. There’s a reason my walk always ends five houses down. 

“Now I have to be honest,” he laughs. “I was surprised that you tried to fight me.”

“Yeah and I nearly lost my hearing because of it,” Your voice wasn’t as strong as you wanted to come off. “Why are you here?”

Mic couldn’t help but laugh. You really thought he had little control of his quirk? If he wanted to burst your eardrums - to actually destroy your hearing - he would have. 

“I was in the area.” You had missed the smoothness of his voice. Of course Hizashi could hit a high note but when he was comfortable, calm his voice was always a perfect pitch.

You shake your head. There’s no way for you to run. He’d catch you in an instant. So instead you make your way to the kitchen. Slowly, and keeping your eyes on him as you walked backwards, until you disappeared through the doorway. 

At first he didn’t follow, interested to see how it would play out if he just made himself at home. But then he remembered he was a fugitive and probably shouldn’t let you out of his eyesight.

“What’s got you so stoic- what are you looking for?” 

You had several drawers open in your living room and were rummaging through them like a starving raccoon.

“A taser,” You hissed. “Get out of my house, Yamada.”

“Oh, a taser, kinky.”

All but pulling at your hair, you glared at him. “Get out.”

“Speaking of kinky, remember that time-” 

You screamed in frustration, immediately wanting to crawl under a rock. Was he really trying to bring up - no, now is not the time. 

You pulled out your phone, finally having the wherewithal to call for help. And with that his jovial attitude dissipated. His eyes darkened in a way you hadn’t thought possible before his attack on the school.

He lunged for your phone and you two began a terrifying game of keep away. The second you yelped out in pain, Hizashi lost his grip on you.

Rushing to the front door you flipped the lock so hard it actually ricocheted, reengaging. Your heart was pounding in your ears and you felt like throwing up but finally managed to fling the door open. 

With a quick glance at your former friend - Why hadn’t he moved from the kitchen? - you hurried forward, running face first into someone’s chest, you didn’t see them at first and they pushed you back inside. You looked back at a smirking Hizashi who pointed your direction back to his accomplishment. Back at - 

“Stop fucking recording,” You screamed, ignoring the pain in your jaw. "This isn't a movie."

Shigaraki crouched next to you, smoothing a blood soaked strand of hair behind your ear. "Really? Sure looks like one to me. A group of college students go camping and people get picked off one by one. Until it comes down to two opposing forces: the deranged killers and the final girl. You're my final girl."

You needed time to think, right now you had no plan and limited options.

"Why me?"

All three of them had to have agreed to this plan. They prepared for everything. They were the directors and they knew what they were getting in to.

It should be pretty obvious, Shigaraki scoffed. You're Toga's only friends outside their small clique. It was a shame there were too many distractions keeping you from spending more time together. And your feelings for Shigaraki were clear. You were bashful, flirting with him in your own subtle way. As for Dabi, he could tolerate you and that was enough.

They trio had been planning something big for a while; something that would make a statement. This was perfect. There was a solid body count, a soon-to-be missing golden girl, and the psychos who tormented her.

Shigaraki could hardly contain his glee. His dream girl collapsed and covered in blood. A helpless bunny that's finally been cornered and is ready to be devoured. The fantasy he'd been stroking himself to over the past year manifested into reality.

"People pay a premium for good content," Dabi purred, moving in for a close up.

Shigaraki wiped the blade clean on your leg. He shifted his weight so his knee was bearing down in your leg. Pain seared through your thigh as he began carving into your exposed flesh. A bloody and jagged “S.”

"I can't be a final girl if you fucks are still alive," You hissed, "The final girl defeats the monsters. That's the whole damn point of the trope."

Toga was pouting, "This isn't the 80s."