Izuku found himself in a dilapidated alley, the air thick with the stench of stale garbage and forgotten dreams. He needed space, a place where he could push the boundaries of this… *thing* inside him without leveling a city block. The Negative Speed Force. The very name tasted like ash and regret.
He extended a hand, focusing. The familiar electric hum vibrated through his bones, but now it was different. Raw. Untamed. He pictured the worn punching bag he'd salvaged from the trash, visualizing it shredded to ribbons. He imagined the force flowing into his fist, not as a contained surge, but as a destructive torrent.
He moved.
It wasn't running. It was… phasing. He blurred, a dark afterimage clinging to his form, and his fist connected with the bag. The sound was less of an impact and more of an explosion. The bag disintegrated, synthetic fibers and stuffing scattering like morbid confetti. The brick wall behind it cracked, spiderwebs of fractures spreading across its surface.
Izuku stumbled back, gasping. The alley reeked of ozone. He stared at his hand, trembling. He hadn't even focused on control. He'd simply willed destruction, and it had obeyed.
`[System Notification: Skill 'Destructive Impulse' Acquired.]`
He ignored the notification. This was too much. He was losing himself in the power, becoming a weapon pointed at… everything. He needed to stop. Now.
He tried to suppress the flow, to choke off the energy. It resisted, a snarling beast clawing at the cage of his will. He felt the familiar surge of anger, amplified tenfold. Anger at All Might. Anger at the system. Anger at himself.
He doubled over, clutching his head. Images flashed through his mind: Kacchan's sneering face, the burning wreckage of his dreams, the crushing weight of his own inadequacy. The Negative Speed Force fed on it, amplified it, offered him power in exchange for his pain.
A voice cut through the chaos in his mind. "Interesting."
Izuku whirled around, his heart hammering against his ribs. Standing at the alley's entrance, bathed in the faint glow of the streetlights, was Stain. The Hero Killer. His crimson scarf billowed slightly in the breeze, and his eyes, cold and calculating, were fixed on Izuku.
Stain didn't flinch at the sight of the destroyed punching bag and the cracked wall. He didn't react with fear or alarm. He simply observed, like a scientist studying a particularly fascinating specimen.
"That power…" Stain's voice was a low, gravelly rasp. "It reeks of corruption. Of righteous anger twisted into something… vile."
Izuku instinctively took a step back. He knew Stain's reputation. He was a murderer, a fanatic who believed that most heroes were unworthy of the title. He purged them, violently.
"You… You shouldn't be here," Izuku stammered, trying to regain control of his breathing. The Negative Speed Force pulsed within him, urging him to attack, to silence the threat. He fought it down, clinging to the last vestiges of his reason.
Stain chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "I've been watching you, boy. Ever since you manifested that… darkness. You're a pariah, aren't you? Rejected. Scorned."
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Izuku could smell the metallic tang of blood, lingering from his previous… endeavors.
"I know what it's like to be betrayed by those who claim to be heroes," Stain continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "To see the rot festering beneath the surface of this society."
Izuku remained silent, his mind racing. Why was Stain talking to him? What did he want?
"That power you wield," Stain said, gesturing towards Izuku with a gauntleted hand. "It can be a weapon. A tool for change. Or it can consume you, turn you into another monster feeding on the weakness of others. You stand at a crossroads, boy. A blade's edge."
He stopped, his gaze piercing. "Embrace the power, use it to cleanse this world of the false heroes who plague it. Or be consumed by it, become a slave to your own rage. Choose wisely."
Stain held out a hand, his expression unreadable. "Join me, and together, we will reshape this broken society. Or refuse, and become just another casualty in the war against corruption."
Izuku stared at Stain's outstretched hand, his mind reeling. The Negative Speed Force thrummed within him, whispering promises of power, of vengeance. He could feel the pull, the seductive allure of embracing the darkness.
But something held him back. A flicker of doubt. A memory of All Might's smile. A desperate, clinging hope that he could still be a hero.
"I..." Izuku began, his voice barely a whisper. He didn't know what to say. He was torn between the burning desire for revenge and the faint glimmer of his former ideals.
Stain didn't push. He simply waited, his eyes narrowed, assessing Izuku's every reaction.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken tension. Izuku could feel the weight of Stain's gaze pressing down on him, forcing him to confront the darkness within himself.
He clenched his fists, his knuckles white. He had to make a choice. A choice that would define who he was, who he would become.
Suddenly, a glint of metal flashed in Stain's hand. A wicked-looking knife, its blade stained crimson, appeared as if from nowhere. He pointed it at Izuku, the tip hovering inches from his throat.
"Decide," Stain said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Embrace the power, and become an instrument of justice. Or reject it, and I will end you here and now. There is no middle ground."
Izuku's heart leaped into his throat. He could feel the cold steel against his skin, a chilling reminder of the stakes. He had to choose. Now.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He thought of his mother, of her unwavering belief in him. He thought of All Might, of his inspiring words and his selfless acts. He thought of the countless innocent people who needed saving.
He opened his eyes, his gaze hardening. He looked Stain directly in the eye, his voice firm and resolute.
"I..." he began, then paused, gathering his strength. "I don't know what I want yet, but I do know what I don't want. I don't want to be a killer."
Stain's expression didn't change. He simply tilted his head slightly, as if considering Izuku's words.
"Interesting," he said again, his voice still devoid of emotion. "So you reject the power? You choose to remain weak?"
"No," Izuku replied, shaking his head. "I choose to find a different way. A way to use this power for good."
Stain chuckled, a low, mocking sound. "Naive. You are a fool, boy. But I admire your conviction. Perhaps you are not beyond saving after all."
He lowered the knife, but his gaze remained fixed on Izuku, unwavering and intense.
"Very well," he said. "I will give you time. Time to reconsider. Time to see the truth for yourself."
He sheathed the knife, the metallic rasp echoing in the alley.
"But know this, boy," he added, his voice hardening. "The offer stands. When you are ready to embrace the power, when you are ready to fight for what is right, you know where to find me."
With that, Stain turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Izuku alone in the alley, his heart pounding in his chest.
Izuku stood there for a long moment, catching his breath. He could still feel the lingering presence of Stain, the weight of his words pressing down on him.
He looked down at his hands, trembling slightly. The Negative Speed Force still thrummed within him, waiting, watching.
He had made a choice. A choice that had spared his life, for now. But he knew that this was not the end. It was only the beginning.
He had to learn to control this power. He had to find a way to use it for good, to become the hero he had always dreamed of being. Even if it meant walking a path shrouded in darkness.
He took another deep breath, steeling his resolve. He would not let this power consume him. He would not let Stain's words corrupt him. He would find his own way.
He turned and walked out of the alley, into the night. The city lights blurred around him, a swirling kaleidoscope of hope and despair. He had a long and difficult road ahead of him.
He just hoped he was strong enough to walk it.