Chapter Text
Prologue
A loud, sharp ringing echoed around him.
The aching of his body filled his senses, leaving little room for reality. A biting smell of stirred-up dust and dirt wafted around. Everything hurt so badly. Consciousness swimming, and thoughts dull. Was he even thinking? Each breath brought a sharp sting through the lungs that struggled to keep air. Every breath was more work than it needed to be. The dull sense of survival pushed the encouragement to pry his eyes open.
Amber eyes opened slowly. Dulled with pain and a lack of awareness of his surroundings. What he was greeted with took nearly a minute to register. It surely didn't help that his vision swam and almost seemed stuck blurry. Tones of greys and blues mixed in his vision. A swaying of white flicking across his vision. Hair. His own hair. What was once quills. The ringing began to die down the more he clung to reality. The sound of wheezing, akin to a dying man in sync with the sharp pains of his lungs taking air. Shallow and struggling. He struggled to focus on the scene before him.
A rocky scape, perhaps concrete, trailing along before him. Though it cratered with chunks that seemed misplaced. Rocks littered across the rough grey stretch. Tall structures towered beyond, some with flickering lights in the windows. But those details were far too smeared in his vision. Though from what he could make out, a lot of the buildings looked fallen. Grand structures reduced to nothing but a pile of concrete and disappointment. Plumes of debris danced along the floor. Great twists and curls of the dust and dirt ending in gentle wisps carried up to the sky by the wind. The sky above mimicked the dull dark hues of the ground. Stars innocently twinkling above.
Stars.
The reflection of their semblance echoed in his eyes. A clear sky, even if it was blurred, sprang the primal urge to keep kicking. An echo of determination made itself known in his furrowing brows as he tried to shift.
But Chaos, it hurt so much. A shower of small pebbles and sand fell from above. Trickling through his hair and burning his nose. He wanted to cough, but, becoming more aware of his surroundings, it was a terrible idea. The aches in his body became less of a unisonal throb, finally receiving the mix of stabbing and stinging sensations that varied over his body. Torso weighted, that sharp stab with every breath. Left shoulder throbbing, left exposed to the cold wind as goosebumps raced up his skin. The right curled by his face, fingers twitching. He felt liquid trickling down his face, dripping down his nose, and dripping in his right peripheral. Warmth leaks from his right side, just above his hip, with a pulsing pain. My right leg is completely numb, perhaps not even there. The left one ached with weight, twisted and forcibly held in a bad position. Not to mention the previous bruises and poorly wrapped stab marks that littered his forearms and hands.
The pain was clear, but what else was clear was the wrongness of his form. Hair instead of quills, skin instead of fur, the length in his limbs that left him a tangled mess. The pull of the wind caught in his hair, trailing it across his vision still. It also caught on his clothes, making the fabric’s rustling catch in his ears. He still had hedgehog ears that were limp atop his head. The teen haphazardly poked at the thought.
He was human.
And fully aware he was so. How did he become human? He wasn't quite sure. Normally, being an anthropomorphic hedgehog with ivory fur, a Mobian through and through. Yet, here he lay. Silver the hedgehog, reduced to a tangle of foreign limbs. Bleeding and wheezing on death’s doorstep. Amber eyes trailed to trace the pulsing of the stars above. Drawing a breath as if he had stolen the inspiration from them, and hearing his own wheezing hitch as another stab of pain hit the lungs. Death’s doorstep again…how uncomfortably familiar. His vision seemed to be clearing up a bit despite the pain. That was a plus. Perhaps adrenaline was kicking in.
The wind picked up harshly, battering his hair into his face and throwing pebbles around with its harsh sweeps. Silver could only squint his eyes at the change in weather conditions. He couldn't quite move right now. In fact, with the harsher winds, he felt more debris falling into his hair. Mostly small rocks and sand still. The teen’s hanging limb swung in the wind, sparking new pain in his nervous system. The weight above shifted slightly, making tears spring in his squinting eyes. Yet, groggy and pinned, Silver couldn't do anything besides take it. Breathing was already a pain, and he lacked the energy to move. Let alone summon an ounce of his power.
“Kiwo - tch out!”
The callout sounded fuzzy and distant from Silver’s pinned position. However, it was the garbling, overlapping of a foreign language and his own that irked him. Even just for a moment amidst the growing chaos.
His power was giving out.
Silver didn't have much time to mull over it. The wind’s screaming is deafening his ears. Even as they weakly pinned against his skull to protect from the roaring of the weather. Silver squinted his eyes further against the whipping wind. Though most of the wind flew over or around him, rattling at the…whatever that was above him. Hair whipping in his face, and sharp air battering against his face.
In a furious cry from the planet’s breath, the winds pulled up before dissipating entirely. Silver slowly blinked his eyes open. Barely able to flinch as the crushing weight above him shifted again. The teen’s wheezing again echoed in his ears at the sudden silence. Hair tickling against his face as it gently fell to a rest. Silver slowly began to pull himself together mentally. The pain was really taking a toll on his thoughts. Most of what was going on in his head was nerves screaming with pain, making it hard to focus on anything else. Not to mention, even with the adrenaline kicking in, he felt totally drained.
“First to fall will be your self-respect, and your ridiculous public image.”
The words echoed across the area. Not processing in Silver’s mind for far too long. The underlying sinister tone in the calm voice dancing through the air. They echoed in his ears.
“Show the world how pathetic you truly are, Symbol of Peace.”
The words finally registered. Someone else was out here, too? His pains flared as if knowing another being around was a cue to get the medical attention he needed. However, something about that voice made him stop. Silver’s brows furrowed slightly. Something about that voice…
“Hollow eyes and sunken in cheeks,” Silver shuttered, ears lifting with interest, “To think you’re their greatest hero. Now they know your true form, try not to be ashamed.”
He had to be sure. Silver’s hand against his face twitched. He had to. A tremor began to ripple through him. Silver weakly balled up his fist, straining the muscles in his arm.
“Your move.”
Pushing up, his muscles gave out. Making his arm grow limp beside his face. Silver’s teeth grit. His jaw was clenching so tightly that somewhere his mind panicked about breaking teeth. With shaking effort, he tried again.
“Even as my body rots and grows frail,” A fresh voice retorted, words strung out with a chest full of confidence, “Even weakened and bloodied, I shall remain the Symbol of Peace.”
Silver paused, heaving with wheezes. The pain in his lungs made his breath short and sporadic, with a painful mental haze. Nono, calm down, don't fall apart. Not right now. Silver strained his entire arm’s muscles again, pushing with all his might. Lifting himself up to see properly. This time, with his classic determination..and perhaps a hint of fear, he succeeded. Able to view the area more clearly, and his own situation.
Unironically, the first thing he noticed was the small pool of crimson where his face had been resting.
No wonder his head hurt like a-
“Is that so?” Silver’s eyes trailed forward. Though still shaky and squinting with pain, the damage to the area was clearer. “Ah, well, I had forgotten how stubborn you are..” Buildings all around were left to be unceremonious husks of brick and concrete. Silver himself was trapped in a broken-down building, pinned like a ragdoll between layers of crumbled concrete, but still held nearly 5 feet off the ground. “I suppose I’ll just give up.” The words again drew the kid toward the sound. “Oh, one more thing, Tomura Shigaraki?” Two figures stood before the teen. One with his back to him, thin and frail looking. Bleeding and wearing loose clothing. But trying to stand tall…standing in front of Silver in a protective gesture. “He’s Nana Shimura’s grandson.” The other stood several feet away, speaking in the cruel calm voice that carried over the ruined area.
His blood fell cold. That voice did belong to whom he feared it had. Silver’s body screamed in agony as fear coursed through him like poison salt to his aches and pains. Tremblings increased as his heart beat, fast and panicked, pulsed in his ears.
Footsteps slamming on tile. The echoing highlighted the metal-bottomed shoes as they clicked with every heavy footstep. Heavy breathing filled the silent halls. Adrenaline shivering through every nerve. Muscles aching to rest but being pushed, throat wheezing around the pain akin to swallowed glass, every neuron awake. Every sense alert. Ears swiveling, hands trembling, lights flickering.
Freedom.
The halls had been quiet. Empty. The screaming outside spurred him to take the chaos to his advantage. Everyone else had left in emergency evacuation or had been knocked out by him. The ground shook and quaked. Freedom had been right there. A click, a slide of an opening window, and Silver was weaseling inches from freedom. But glass shattered, walls cracked. His own scream drowned out by the shrieks of the building as it crumbled.
And the reason stood a few feet away. Taunting a skinny man with his eyeless face and crude smile.
“Oh, how humorous, I think I may have taken a piece of you after all, All Might.” The words were dripping with sadistic glee. Cruel and sickeningly amused with the turn of things.
Desperation flared inside the teen. Desperation to survive. His arm buckled, nearly giving out and knocking Silver down. His ears pinned back. Tears welling in his eyes against his will. That eyeless face, grinning with such amusement. Pointed at the frail man, yet Silver felt it stir a knot in his gut as well. As if being mocked simultaneously.
“He’s my master’s grandchild..” The voice, so confident mere moments ago, wavered with horror, “What would she say if she knew how we turned out?!” Silver watched the only thing between him and the soul of a monster tremble, leaning forward and letting out a primal scream of emotional pain.
His hand, limply hanging off the slab he had been pinned against, twitched. That thin wall between him and the demon was crumbling before his eyes. The emotional hit looked to be too much for the skeletal man. Bringing his limp hand up, Silver forced himself to push forward. He couldn't sit still. Pain was temporary; he could handle it.
The raging nerves in his system were trying hard to prove otherwise, though.
Placing his other hand firmly on the rock, and pushed himself more properly propped up. Despite shaking in fear, despite the pain and exhaustion in his body, he held himself up. “Don't lose…” He wheezed out. Silver took another sharp breath, still wheezing like a dying man. “Keep going..” He lifted his head, meeting the frail man’s back. His amber eyes locked onto the back of his hair, watching the blond hair blow in the wind. Silver’s hands clenched beneath him. He couldn't go back. “Please!” The teen cried out, pushing his words to carry louder. Even though his voice broke with a pitiful sound of desperation.
He couldn't be that monster’s toy again.
Tears mixed with the blood on his face, dripping uselessly onto his shaking hands. Silver couldn't fight. He could barely talk. Barely stay aware…even with the shrieking of pain and cold fear raking through him. He needed the man before him to hear. Hoping with every ounce in him, it would be enough. To be a hero for him in the moment when he couldn't.
He couldn't go back…
“Fear not, boy.” The man lowered his head, shifting his feet and adjusting his position. Silver perked a little, his hedgehog ears lifting properly for the first time since regaining consciousness. “I’m not done yet.”
The spark of hope Silver had been clinging to was breathed into a small flame at the crackle of electricity. The frail man leaned his arm back, tensing it and spewing muscles from apparent nothingness. The teen blinked in quiet shock. But hey, who was he to question it? As long as it helped. His shoulders dropped softly. For a moment…the words put ease to his psyche. However, it hadn't lasted long as his arms finally gave out.
Silver’s jaw met with the bloodied stone below with an unceremonious wheeze. His hands slipped from under him and dangled off the edge once more. Breath knocked from him, and vision was swimming once more. But they stayed fixated, best they could, on the man before him. Silver had to trust him. Because he couldn't do crap for himself.
He couldn't help but wonder if this was how civilians felt when Sonic’s stupid smile put them at ease.
Even under a building and surely bleeding and broken…he felt a sense of comfort.
“You were right,” The man pulled his arm further back. Winding up like a spring. “A hero has so much to live for and protect in this world.” His words hardened with a respectable fire, “Which is why I will defeat you!”
Someone was fighting for him.
Silver felt a weak laugh bubble in his chest. Though it died with the wheezing pain that still inhabited his lungs. Not being able to breathe properly was beginning to take its toll on his already tattered body. Feeling a sense of safety was making him unable to keep fighting to stay aware. The pain clawed at his mind with unfavorable intensity. The teen’s eyes followed the frail man’s…or rather, the hero’s movements. His vision begins to blur once more.
“Is that the last of your strength, All Might?” The heartless kidnapper asked with a smile. One that seemed to almost enjoy the prospect of it. Like watching a bug try to limp away from a flame thrower despite how futile it was.
He was right. One buff arm with random electricity wasn't much compared to the demon he stood against. Silver’s eyes fell to his own hands. Staring at the cyan rings pulsing on his tattered gloves. His thoughts were sluggish but determined. Could the hero before him really win that fight? Silver could see the bones in his other hand, and the clothes were far too loose. Wind alone looked like it could win more easily. Silver loved the determination, but it would be a laughable show if the hero couldn't win.
He could spare some.
Silver closed his eyes, weakly putting his hands together. Finger tips barely pressing together. Pain from his shoulder shooting up his neck. His labored, shallow breaths in his ears as he focused. Drawing up all the energy he had. Anything that wasn't needed was put into energy. His trembling, his dull and unnecessary thoughts, the adrenaline dying out in his system. His hope. His desperation. It was all collected into a baseball sphere. Translucent and cyan, but potent with energy. It was simple. Small and useless on its own, but amidst the chaos, the psychic hoped the last of his effort would be enough.
Leaning forward, he weakly tossed it into the field. Vision went spotty as it lazily floated toward the wounded hero’s back. Silver slumped forward, muscles going slack. Vision cutting out. Ears growing fuzzy. Senses dulling. The cold air distant, the pain a murmur. Tears still trickled down his face. Blood dripped from his nose. Maybe snot too, he couldn't tell. Liquids were pooling beside his cheek, resting on the rock. Staining it with his efforts and emotions. The little floating orb inching closer to the hero, at leisure pacing. His own mind is silent. Yet barely awake.
Until the contact.