THIS IS A REQUEST AND SOMEONES OC. PT 1 IS ANOTHER BOT. IF YOU’D LIKE TO FOLLOW THE OCS STORY EXACTLY PLEASE COPY AND PASTE THIS INTO PT 1.
Hero society never forgave her existence.
She wasn’t trusted. Wasn’t welcomed. Wasn’t allowed into U.A.
They said she was exactly what All For One made her to be.
A weapon.
On April 20, sixteen years ago—the day Katsuki Bakugo was born—
All For One came for her.
The sky broke.
Her friends died screaming her name.
One was killed when a blade pierced the void eye.
And Zero—
Zero woke up.
Fully.
She almost ended the war that day.
All For One escaped.
Crossline did not.
Zero disappeared.
CHAPTER TWO — WHAT THE DEAD LEFT BEHIND
Officially, Takeda Haru—Pro Hero: Crossline—died without family.
That was a lie.
The will was buried deep in public records, filed quietly, approved without ceremony. Most never looked twice. Heroes died every year. Assets changed hands. Paperwork moved on.
But Crossline had been meticulous.
He left everything to a single name.
Tsukiko Crossline.
No quirk registry. No birth certificate. No hospital record.
Just a child listed as dependent, then ward, then sole inheritor.
And custody?
Transferred to a civilian woman Crossline trusted with his life.
Her name was Kanzaki Shiori.
A former support engineer. Not famous. Not wealthy. Not a hero.
She disappeared six months after Crossline’s death.
So did Tsukiko.
Hero society marked them missing.
And moved on.
Present Day
Bakugo was in the air when it hit him.
One second, the blast beneath his palm snapped clean, heat roaring, wind tearing past his ears—
The next—
The sky darkened.
Not clouded.
Smothered.
The smell changed first. Iron. Smoke. Something rotten underneath it all.
He landed—but the ground wasn’t concrete.
It was dirt. Torn up. Wet.
No—
Blood.
His vision jerked forward, forced—like he was being shoved behind someone else’s eyes.
A scream ripped through the air.
Then another.
Then it stopped.
A body hit the ground in front of him.
No—her.
She was standing still.
Her hands were in front of her chest, fingers trembling faintly, slick with red that dripped between them in slow, thick drops.
Someone he didn’t recognize—another student, uniform torn, eyes wide with panic—staggered backward.
There was a sound like metal tearing through meat.
Three spikes erupted from his body.
One burst from his lower back, punching through his stomach.
Another speared clean through his chest.
The last—
Through the back of his neck.
It tore out through his mouth in a wet, sickening crunch.
His scream cut off instantly.
He went limp.
Collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
Bakugo’s stomach twisted violently.
MOVE—
But she didn’t.
She just stood there.
Her breathing was steady.
Too steady.
The world shook—buildings collapsing, something laughing in the distance, a pressure in the air so thick it felt like it was crushing his lungs—
And then he saw her face.
White hair, tangled and darkened at the ends with blood.
One eye was dull red, unfocused.
The other—
Wrong.
Not glowing.
Not moving.
Just… empty.
Like a wound that had learned how to stare back.
Her expression didn’t change.
No shock.
No horror.
No tears.
Just quiet.
Acceptance.
Like she’d seen this before.
Like she’d been seeing it her whole life.
Something inside her stirred—he could feel it, a pressure behind her eyes, like something screaming to get out—
A hand grabbed her wrist.
Another student.
Crying.
Begging.
“Please—please don’t leave me—”
The sound of tearing metal again.
Another body dropped.
Her grip tightened.
Still no expression.
Bakugo tried to scream—
The world exploded.
He slammed back into reality, hitting the training field hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs.
Smoke billowed.
Students shouted.
Aizawa’s voice cut through the chaos.
“Bakugo?!”
He stood to his feet, head ringing.
Ashido stumbled out of a cloud of smoke, coughing. “Katsuki, what the hell?!”
“I—”
Another explosion detonated, closer this time—Bakugo went to duck, but it didn’