Bloodcurdle.

That's the name of Stain's quirk, by the way.

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The narrow alley was a storm of chaos and desperation, lit only by the fractured moonlight filtering in from above and the scattered fires burning across Hosu City. Dust from the broken pavement still hung thick in the air, and Izuku Midoriya's breathing came hard and fast as he squared off against the Hero Killer, Stain.

His mind raced, trying to process the impossible situation he was in. I have to save both Iida and Native. If I focus on one, the other dies. Every muscle in his body was tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. Green lightning crackled around him, illuminating his determined face. He couldn't afford to hesitate, but the weight of the moment was suffocating.

Stain stood a few feet away, his gaze cold and calculated. He moved with a predatory grace, the way a wolf circles prey that has nowhere left to run. His katana glinted in the pale light, and his presence radiated an air of inevitable violence. His voice, rough and edged with fanatic conviction, cut through the tension. "You're different, kid," Stain said, and a twisted smile crept across his scarred face. "Unlike him"—he gestured toward Iida with his chin—"you're still willing to risk your life for others. That's real heroism. That's why I'll give you a chance. A true hero deserves that much, at least."

Izuku's eyes flickered to Iida, who was slumped against the wall, his uniform torn and a sword wound still leaking blood from his shoulder. Iida's face was a mask of shock and despair, but he was trying—so hard—to move, to break free of the paralysis that Stain's quirk had inflicted on him. Come on, Iida, Izuku thought desperately. Please, fight through it.

Stain took a slow step forward, his boots scraping against the concrete. "Let's make this interesting," he proposed, his voice laced with a sick thrill. "If you can defeat me, I'll spare them both. But if you fail…" His gaze hardened, and he raised his katana, pointing it directly at Izuku's chest. "They both die. Fair, isn't it?"

Izuku's heart slammed against his ribs, but he forced himself to nod. "Fine," he said, his voice cracking slightly but his resolve solid. Carefully, he set Native down at the entrance of the alley, making sure the hero was at least a little safer. The unconscious man was pale and weak, but alive. "Let's do this," Izuku said, clenching his fists and trying to project confidence he didn't entirely feel. Think, think, think. He scanned the environment, taking in the walls, the piles of trash, the shattered glass. This alley is tight, but that's not a disadvantage. Gran Torino taught me how to use small spaces to my advantage.

Stain didn't waste time. With a sudden burst of speed, he lunged, his katana slicing through the air with a deadly whistle. Izuku's instincts screamed at him to move, and he dove to the side, barely evading the blade. The tip of the sword cut through the fabric of his uniform, and he felt the chill of metal graze his skin.

He's faster than I anticipated, Izuku thought, scrambling to his feet. I need to be even faster. He summoned One For All, feeling the familiar surge of power coursing through his body. Green electricity arced around him, and he sprang off the ground, bouncing between the narrow walls of the alley. Using Gran Torino's training, he ricocheted from surface to surface, keeping his movements unpredictable and agile.

Stain's eyes gleamed with interest. "Good," he said, his voice carrying a grudging respect. "You're thinking. Using your environment. That's what a hero should do." He spun around, his katana slashing at the wall where Izuku had just been, but Izuku had already moved, leaping to another section of the alley. Stain's reflexes were astonishing; every movement was precise, every attack lethal.

Izuku gritted his teeth, adrenaline flooding his veins. Stay ahead of him. Don't let him get a clean hit. He launched himself off the wall, aiming a powerful punch at Stain's side. Stain twisted at the last moment, blocking the attack with his sword, but the force of One For All sent a shudder down the blade, and Stain's arm tensed from the impact.

"Impressive," Stain muttered, his grip steadying, though his hand throbbed from the force of Izuku's punch. He retaliated swiftly, slashing upward with his katana. Izuku barely managed to jump back, but Stain was relentless. He whipped out a throwing knife with his free hand, launching it with deadly precision. Izuku twisted mid-air, the blade grazing his arm and drawing a thin line of blood.

No! Izuku thought, panic bubbling up. He had to be careful. If Stain got even a drop of his blood onto his tongue, his quirk—Bloodcurdle—would activate, and Izuku would be paralyzed. The stakes were terrifyingly high.

Stain's eyes flicked to the blood now trickling from Izuku's wound, and a predatory smile curled his lips. "Careful now," he taunted. "One drop is all I need." He surged forward, katana slashing in a brutal arc, and Izuku was forced to retreat, his mind whirling for a new strategy.

Use the walls. Use your speed. Izuku jumped, pushing off the alley wall and bouncing to the opposite side, then to the ground, creating a zigzag pattern that made him difficult to target. Stain chased him relentlessly, his movements fluid and practiced. Their clash was a blur of speed and precision, each strike and counterstrike deadly and desperate.

Meanwhile, Tenya Iida watched from where he was pinned, every second of the battle tearing at his soul.

His vision was still blurry, the pain from the sword wound in his shoulder radiating through his entire body. But it was the pain in his heart that hurt the most. Why did I want to be a hero again? he thought, his mind drifting back to simpler times. To his family's exquisite mansion, to the life of privilege and wealth he had been born into. I am Tenya Iida of the Iida family, he remembered. I could have lived a comfortable, easy life.

But that was never what he wanted. His brother, Tensei Iida—the real Ingenium—had been everything he aspired to be. Brave. Selfless. A true hero. Yet here Iida was, reduced to a broken shell, having thrown himself into a reckless quest for revenge. I came to Hosu for vengeance, he thought, his fists clenching weakly. Not to save lives, but to avenge my brother. And now, I'm paying the price.

He watched as Izuku fought, his friend's every move filled with the desperate determination to save everyone. Even now, Izuku was fighting not just for himself, but for Iida and Native. The realization was a knife in Iida's heart. Izuku never gives up on anyone. Even me. Even now. The shame was suffocating, but it also sparked something deep inside him. A flicker of the dream he had once held so dearly.

No, he thought, his jaw tightening. I can't let this end like this. I have to remember… why I wanted to be a hero in the first place. He willed his limbs to move, fighting against the numbing paralysis. His fingers twitched. Then his arms. The return of sensation was agonizing, but he welcomed the pain. I have to move. I have to help him.

Izuku continued to dodge and weave, his muscles screaming in protest. Stain was relentless, a force of nature that seemed to anticipate his every move. Izuku's mind was a whirlwind of strategies, but he was running out of options. I can't keep this up forever, he realized. His breathing was ragged, and his vision was starting to blur from exertion. Come on, Iida. Please…

Stain lunged again, and Izuku narrowly avoided the blade, feeling the rush of wind as it sliced past his cheek. He tried to counter, swinging his leg in a powerful kick, but Stain blocked it, grunting from the force. In that moment, Stain saw an opening and drove his knee into Izuku's stomach, sending him crashing into the wall. Pain exploded through Izuku's body, and he gasped for breath, his ribs aching from the impact.

"Is that all you've got?" Stain sneered, approaching slowly, his katana gleaming with malice. "Come on. Show me what a true hero is made of."

Izuku's vision swam, but he refused to stay down. He pushed himself up, teeth gritted against the pain. No. I can't give up. His green lightning sparked, weaker now but still defiant. I can't…

Suddenly, a shadow moved beside him. Stain's eyes flicked to the source of the noise, and for the first time, he looked surprised. Tenya Iida, still bleeding and visibly shaking, had managed to stand. His body trembled, but his gaze burned with a newfound resolve.

...

As Tenya Iida dragged himself upright, each step sending pain lancing through his wounded shoulder, his mind was a storm of self-doubt and regret. Blood trickled steadily down his arm, soaking his torn hero costume, but he forced himself forward, driven by something raw and desperate. His body was weakened, trembling from exhaustion and the aftereffects of Stain's quirk, but his spirit pushed him onward.

Why did I want to be a hero in the first place? he wondered, each limping step feeling heavier than the last. It wasn't for some grand, noble reason. The answer twisted in his gut, a painful truth he couldn't escape. It was because my brother was one. 

Tensei Iida, the hero of Ingenium, had always been his idol, a shining example of everything a hero should be. As a child, Iida had wanted nothing more than to emulate his brother's kindness, his bravery, and his unbreakable sense of justice. But as he grew older, his motivations had become tainted, entangled with the weight of expectation and family honor. He had wanted to be a hero to honor the Iida family name, to prove himself worthy of his heritage.

Stain was right, Iida realized bitterly, his heart sinking further with each passing moment. I'm a child playing dress-up. A fake hero. The admission hurt, but even so, he clenched his teeth, drawing on the last dregs of his willpower. But if that's true… if I'm really a fake hero, then maybe it's better that a fake hero dies here than a real one. The thought was grim, but he accepted it.

Stumbling forward, Iida grabbed onto Stain, wrapping his arms around the Hero Killer in a desperate hold. Stain didn't resist much, his body barely moving as if he were merely humoring Iida's pitiful attempt.

But Iida didn't notice; his focus was on Izuku. He needed to give his friend a chance. "RUN, MIDORIYA!" Iida screamed, his voice cracking with the sheer force of his desperation. Tears stung his eyes, and he held on as tightly as he could, his muscles burning with effort. Just run, Izuku. Please.

Izuku stood frozen for a moment, his heart torn. His emerald eyes met Stain's blood-red gaze, and he saw something he hadn't expected. Stain wasn't looking at Iida with the bloodlust he'd shown moments ago. There was no savage eagerness to kill, no desire to end Iida's life. Instead, there was a strange, contemplative look, as if Stain were considering something deeply, weighing Iida's worth in some twisted moral scale.

Izuku's fists clenched. He understood. Stain doesn't want to kill Iida, he realized. But the risk was still too high. If he didn't act, Iida could still die. Gritting his teeth, Izuku made his decision.

He scooped up the unconscious Native, cradling the wounded hero in his arms, and ran out of the alleyway, his heart hammering in his chest. His body screamed at him to stop, the exhaustion from using One For All weighing him down, but he didn't allow himself to falter. Get Native to safety. That's all that matters right now.

As he exited the alley, Iida's grip on Stain loosened, relief flooding his features. "Thank god…" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. But his relief was short-lived. Stain, who had been patiently allowing Iida's weak attempt to restrain him, finally acted. With a single, precise movement, he knocked Iida unconscious. Iida crumpled to the ground, his vision going dark, the fight leaving his body.

Stain stood over Iida's limp form, silent and still. His katana glinted under the fractured moonlight, but he didn't make a move to strike the killing blow. Instead, his eyes softened, his rigid expression loosening as a memory surfaced.

A time when he had been just like these kids, eager to save lives, burning with the same naive idealism. Back then, he had believed in the purity of heroism, in the idea that saving people was an honor, a duty, and a selfless act.

But then he had seen the truth. He had seen heroes chasing money, fame, and glory. He had watched the very concept of heroism being corrupted and twisted, turned into a business, a brand. Where were the heroes who put others before themselves?

Where were the heroes who were willing to sacrifice everything, not for praise, but simply because it was right? All Might, Stain thought. All Might was a true hero. And so he had made his mission clear: to cleanse the world of false heroes, to force people to remember what it truly meant to be a hero. Even if that meant becoming a villain himself.

Stain looked down at Iida, his expression unreadable. This boy had been a fake, driven by selfish desires. But in the face of death, he had acted with true courage, trying to save someone else. 

A fake hero turned into a real one, Stain thought, conflicted. His grip on his katana tightened, then loosened again. Killing Iida felt wrong now, unnecessary. He had seen the shift in Iida's heart, the moment he had crossed from selfish revenge to selfless sacrifice.

"…If he ever reverts," Stain murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "If he ever goes back to being a false hero… I'll find him. And I'll kill him for good." With that, he sheathed his katana and scaled the alley wall, his movements fluid and practiced. His presence was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving only the echo of his words lingering in the cold air.

From the shadows, a tuft of green hair peeked back into the alley. Izuku Midoriya hadn't left. He had dropped Native near a storefront, urgently asking the terrified shopkeeper to call for emergency services.

He had known in his gut that Stain wouldn't kill Iida, but he couldn't afford to gamble his friend's life on that belief. Now, hearing Stain's words and seeing that Iida was still alive, Izuku felt his shoulders relax, the crushing weight of fear easing slightly.

Stain knew I was here, Izuku realized, piecing it together. He was speaking to me. The Hero Killer had let him hear that final declaration on purpose. Izuku's jaw clenched, his resolve reigniting.

"I see… Then I'll make sure that won't happen," he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet strength. He walked over to Iida, who lay unconscious but alive, and knelt beside his friend. Gently, he lifted Iida into his arms, his muscles screaming in protest but his heart refusing to let him rest.

Izuku carried Iida out of the alley, each step feeling like a victory. He knew the fight wasn't over. Stain's ideology would continue to spread, and other threats loomed on the horizon. But for now, they had survived. And that was enough.

Above them, perched on the corner of a nearby rooftop, Stain watched as Izuku carried Iida away. The moonlight cast a pale glow over his scarred face, and for a moment, a ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

"A true hero, huh?" he murmured, watching Izuku with a mixture of curiosity and respect. The boy had potential, the kind of potential that could change the world. But only time would tell if he would stay true to that path.

With one last look, Stain melted into the shadows, vanishing into the night as Hosu City continued to burn.

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[Auther: Yo. I've been putting the fries in the bag so I haven't had much time to write. Sorry!]