A new story I guess. Tokyo Ghoul and BNHA are two fandoms that will always hold special places in my heart, even if I don't like where they went. Anyhow, read, review and I hope you'll enjoy it.

RE:START (I have lived that life. I will not live it again. I will never stop fighting)

He woke up on a bed of flowers. Getting to his feet, he felt his eyes with confusion as he looked around the place. He thumbed the mask and inhaled softly, basking in the comforting smell of worn leather that he had abandoned for one constructed from blood and bones. The flowers had already wilted. There was nothing but pillars reaching into infinity and quiet sobbing. Pushing his panic down, he followed the small sound, watching the desolate surroundings as he did so. He could feel eyes on him, eyes belonging to things, not people. Things that radiated death and decay, fire and fury, the promise of misery and agony.

And yet, he encompassed all those and more. He did not fear those hiding in the shadows. There was nothing to be feared from those who would not show themselves. His fingers brushed against the blades in his cloak, running along their edges. Still, he was ready.

Finally reaching the source, he found a small child, with hair an odd, striking green, face buried into hands. A pang of pity made him walk up to the kid and tap him lightly on his shoulder. The boy removed his hands, showcasing eyes a startling emerald, wet with tears and eerily cold. Despite the intensity of the colour, his eyes remained dull and lifeless, almost like a shadow. The eyes of someone too old for their age, who had seen too much of the world. He would know. It was the reason he couldn't bear to look in a mirror anymore.

"What happened to you?" he murmured softly, squeezing the child's hand softly in reassurance. Unfortunately, the action just made the boy burst into tears again, almost as if his tear ducts were waterfalls behind dams. Sighing softly, he let the kid bury his face into his chest, tears drenching the material in seconds. After a few minutes of this, a slow clapping made the boy stop crying, both individuals turning towards the sound. Two childlike figures sat at either end of a chess board, one constantly moving and shifting, comprised of several floating layers. An attempt to look at their faces conveyed a sense of wrongness, so he focused on the board instead. While it looked like a normal chess board, it had far too many pieces on it, constantly crumbling and reforming into different structures and shapes. Fascinated, he watched the pieces until one of the figures cleared their throat.

"̴̨͉̜̞̯̯̝͒H̵̭͍͕̤̠͎̓̃̒͑͌̔̍̒͠ͅe̴̝̣̤̓͒ḻ̴͚͍̦̹̳̠͖́͘l̷̨͚̪̘̭̞̬͈̼͊̎̀͑̃͐̈́̚͠ŏ̶͙͍̞ ̸̢̹͖̹͉̖̠̹͗͗̋̊̈́͘͝͝ͅp̶͚̆̏ì̴͉̍̽́̀̔̋ȩ̵̧̛͚̠̱̺͎̏̊͗̓͌́͐c̷͓͎͙̦̩̩̤͇̥̺̎̈́̑̀͘ͅe̷̢̙͔̬͐̒̚̕s̵̢̡͎͍̞̘̣̲̥̀.̸̺̙̥̭̺͓̤̟̻̲͓̗͆͐̔̒͗͛͠͝͝"̵̦̩̖̩̠̲̟̮̯̮̒̕

"Pieces?" he asked, hand moving to the weapons he concealed on his body. However, with a simple wave, his hand felt leaden and useless, as if gravity had increased abruptly. He stopped his actions, limbs immediately feeling much lighter.

"̷͓͔̩͕̬̙̫̫͇̄͊̾͌̏̊̋̍͒̽̎Ẁ̵̺͍͎̭̓̒̐̀̇͛̑̇͝ḩ̴͔͕̣̮͍͙̟̭̮̄͛͌͂̄̈́̓͊a̸͎̳̥̖͔͇̝̦͙͇̻̼͗̊̓t̷̡̺̮̰̻͉͚͖͓̘͑͐̉͛̈́͐͝ ̸̰̣͈̥̈̉e̷̝͂̂̑͊̏͝l̸̨̲͖̞͈̠̊̈́̽̈̈́̚s̶̨̥̫̼̪̣͆̉ę̶̨̛̛͕̩̜̩͇̘͛̾̀̎̇͝ͅ ̵̧̛̛̭̟̖̜̥̣̳͍͑̐̍̀͊̓͛͒̏̕w̵̨̛̯̳̰̝͔͎̤̲͍̘̔͗o̷̢̢͈̘̙̯̦͎͛̒͂͐́̓̈́͝͠͠u̸͈͖͚̯̎͌ḽ̸̡̙̜̟̙̠̤̤̪̼̫͂̃́̿͝d̴̩̗̫̄̊̅̂̀̅̾ ̷̡͐͑͆͝w̷̢̧̛͈͓̳̜͕͈̞͂̄͒͐̆̃̏̚̚͠͝é̷̼̝̜̯̞̖̝̮̦̕ ̵̻̓̀͐͑̃̿͠͠c̷̣̀̊̓̒͛̈͛̿͘͘͜ͅa̶̢̧̱̱̩̪̻͈̙̳̯̝̐̈̉̿̈́̃̽͌̔̓͘̕ḽ̵̟͖̼̻͓͕̱̥̻͕̏̚l̴͓̄̒̊̌͂̋͊̓̒̚ ̸̢̛̲̻̺̙̘̰̈́̋̾͐̊̈́̈̚̚y̸̡͓̫̺͕̮̠͍͊̓͛̆̀ͅͅơ̵̞̥͑̀́̍̄̿̈́̈́͝͝ǘ̷̧̡͇͓̥̻͉͂̈́̽̐̀̀̍͝͝͝?̸̝̯͔̮͉̥̩̄͒͊ ̴̨̛̫̼̲̘̦͚̣͖̝̀́̄͛́͐̔̈́͝Ẅ̵͈͛̉͊̓̽͛̈́͑̀̚ě̴̡͎̘̩͔̫̉̃̏͝͝ ̵̨̟̘̜̯͚̏̒̇̈̈́̏̃̚̕ͅȁ̶̭̯̼̖͚̈́̑̓̄̐̉̄̒̿̃̋ͅr̸͙̝̲͍͙̍̿̅̌̒̅̏͐̕͘͠͠e̵̝̔̒ ̴̳̤̃̀͌͗̔̏̊͛̊̏͘̕t̴̘̲̩̫̜̟̉̀̕h̵͔̊͌̿̃̓̋ê̶̥͚͎̯̪͈͓͚̤͖̗͚͐̄͊̎̔̈́ ̴̡̨̩͚̥͎̙͐̆̃̈́̈́͒͋̕ǫ̴̣͙͖̖̥͂ņ̶̡͈̖͈̜͚͕͚̖́̄̔̒͂̊̔ͅę̵̯̼̺̽̌̃̃s̵̢̳̟͎͈͙̟̝̀ ̵̨̠̜̰̖͔͔͚̲͈̔͒̅̌͑̉̾͐̏͘͠͠w̸͉̯͕̪͙̬̩͇͒h̴̪͖͓͔̀̋͋̔̀͛́͜ǫ̷͆̆̈́͗̈́̑̌̎̀̃͘ ̷̩̫̖͌͒̏́͊̈̄̕̕͠ͅc̷̝̗̻̻̘̬̉͗ä̴̡̭̭̫͉͉m̸̜̜͖̠̹͆͋͗͜e̴̢̛̱̖̹̗̗̙̫̻̜͉͗̇̇̍̅̊́ ̵͕̫͔̼͉̞̺͎̭̜͇̓̒̀̈́͝͠ḃ̶̩̟̲̀̑͝e̵̢̮̪̬͚̻̝̙̪͈̺̅̀͜ḟ̷͔̬̥̃͗̅ȍ̶̡̡̖̲̼̣̫͚͎͓̯͛͒͘̕ŗ̴̘͍̲̰͕̫̻̗̈́͌̓̀̊̇̉̂̐̕͝e̸̫̻̔̐̾͠.̴̜̗̻̟̗͕̰̺͂́͊̄̆̑̇͋̄͆́̽͜ ̸̛̦̼̰̠̬̯̮̠̄̾̓͆̇̑̏̈̉́͝ͅͅW̵̗͍̮̣̫̮̙͔͒͜ͅẻ̵̫̘͙̤̜̬́̀̕ ̵̝̻̍̿͂̓̓͐̿̇͒̆̇̕ă̴̺͎͓̻̗̫̓́̽̍ŗ̵̛̩͎̺͚̰͒͗͗̅͛̒̓͗͘͠͝e̸̪̝̗͓̘͕̰̥̺͖̅̓̃̅̾̇ ̵̧͙̱̯͚͌͋̔̓̃̄͒́̕͠y̴͚̻͓͠o̸̢̢̧͇̟̣͎̺͓̒̇̏̊̇̎̊̕͝͠u̵̝͔͕̳͉͇͔̰̦̼̞͂̉̋͛̇r̷͎̥͓̯̣̜͑̽ ̴̧͚͕̞̞͔͇̬̓ͅf̴͎̯̺̈́̆͜a̵͎͍͖͚͐̏̓͛̑t̶̨̗̹̞̞̦̘̯̥͖̎̍̽̑̈́̊͂͂͐̚̚͠ͅe̸̙͊͝,̸̭̭̗͈̝̞̅͋̌̋̀̃͘ ̶̲̥̥͙̠̠̳̺͉̔̃̏̚͜y̴̬̓̕ô̵̧̨̩͉̫͈͍̘̥̻̠͜ṵ̶̞̦̼̲͈̱̉̋͋̓̽̓͐̿̀r̵̨̝̻̬̝̠̮̈́ ̴͇̼̬̟̜͈̥̎̋̃͂̂̾͘͝d̷̢̡̲̲͕̠͎̯̞̃̀̾͜ȅ̴̬̬̟͓̞̤͎̯̼͛̈͋̏̍s̴͙̪̅̓̿͂̌̒͆̾͘t̷̡͍̯̮̱̉̄̽̏͌̔̏̽͘͝i̵̡̧͎̰͓̩̲̭̠͔͑̾̇̽̐͊̏̓̕͠ǹ̵̛͕͉͐̈́̒̋͒͐̈̍̌͝ỹ̵̤͚̟͓̭̜̳̎̀̓́͘.̸̣̹̳̮͙̮͗̿̇͂̀ ̸̛̳̠̯̖͚̗͙̭̃͐̊͊̂͂͑̽͝W̴̧̙͔̞̖̯͍̯͖̖̞̽̄̐̏͗̓̈́̾̉̽̑͠ͅe̶̥͓͉̖͗̒̀̊̊̇̑̿́͆̔ ̴͙̰̣̙̰̝͊a̶̢͙͓͉̩̲̬͚͎̠͍͙͛̎͂̉̍̾͌͋͘͝͠ŗ̷̡̪͚͕̮̝̜̓́̒e̴̢͓̹͙͚̮̱̾̌̓̈́͒́̿̕̚ ̵͈̫̥̫̗̟̩͎͎̑͗̃͊͜ǐ̵̮̰̺̳͕̱̦͉̼̈́̊̚͠ǹ̴̨̖̜̥͙̲̟͓̦̖̌̇͒͗̍́̒͝ ̵͔͖̙̰̘̘́͋̀̎̇͐̓̒̈c̴̨̨̛̗͔̣͈̲͖̘̐͗̒͋̋̈́̀̈́̐o̵͙̦̺̖͇̼̹͋̉̈̄͂̚͝͝n̴̢̖͈̗̩̭͚͚̠̺̠̂̀͘t̵̟̻̗́̌̍͊͊r̵̻͖̞̥̱̉͂̔̆̋͒͐ờ̶̰̲̈́̀̊̔̈̇̽̅͠l̵̢̛͙̪̳͕̟̺̲̰̀̄̊̑͐̑͝.̵̡̢̛̲̺̜͕̳̟͌̍̆̅̔͂͛͊"̵̯̞͚̺̝̩͚͚̯̲̞̏́̋̇̇

"While that's nice and all, why am I here? Why is this kid here?" his snark had not diminished over the years. The other figure chuckled, a sound that reminded him of computer glitches and torn throats, made from the screams of those lost on the battlefield. A snap of the fingers lead to images flashing before his eyes, ones containing the child he held and his story.

"̴͇̎̏̽̍̽̆͗͊͒̚̚͝M̴̡̞̻̣͖̬̽͆̅͝ï̸̡̫̱͈̮̲̭̮̱͔̕̕ͅd̸̛̫͊̓̉̑͒̀o̴̤̥͛̈́̈́̀͗͐͒r̴̡̢̝̞̝̖̩͖͉͗̈̕i̶̠̹̭͔̣̲̩͖͋̎͂͝y̶͖̹̳͓͐̾͂̒͠͝a̸̜̹̟̟̟͙̙͒̈͜ ̶̘̂̾̊͒̏̂͗̏̒̒̽͘I̵͇̗̰̭̺̮̦̱̼͍̋z̷̧̤̺̩̼̥̻̓͛ų̵͔̺̣͚̥̙̘̆̆̆͝k̶̩͚̳̆̈̓̈́͜ư̸̡̧̦̠̻͋̓̑̌͊̎̕͝.̴͕̫̦̤̏̋͛́͑͊̋͆̀͛̚̕ͅ ̵̲̟̋̔͆͒̐̕̕W̶̖͈͗̾̀͊̽̏͆̕e̴̗̮͇̘̻̠̝͕̲̺̻͛̉͋͘̚ ̷̡̡̛̟̙̱͖͆́̀̑͌͜͝h̷̛̝̠̘̰͚͂̋̾̓̌̈́̽̉̓̚͠a̵̳̮̍̐̏d̸̨̧̯̻̼̮̻́̋ ̴͉̻̟̺͓͈̳̲̣̥̮̝̋͌m̷̼͕̥̤̓̊͜ä̴͙̙̘́́̈́͐͒̉͒͋̚͠n̷̥̯͇̲̳͕͓̚ẏ̴̫̬͇́̉̋̈́͜ ̸̱̦̤͝p̵̛̹͉̗̓͑͒͆̈́ļ̶̦̙̘̩̭̜̖̝̟͌̎̓͆̓̾͋̃͆̍̚ͅå̷̲̉̓n̵̫̭̖̳͙̮̩̝͎̰̕s̷̻̩̯̩̰̗̑̽̀̀̋͌̕ ̸̪̋̽̇̆͘ḟ̷͍̜̗͖̞̤̲̱͔̪̬̂̅̄̂̀̈́͂̚̚ͅo̴͉̼̳͓͚̠͍̗̰̜͗̽̈́̔͐̑̚̕r̷̢̢̥͓̣͗̃̈́̿͐̿̕̕̚͝ ̴̧̡̮̬̮͇̮̣͈͗͗͛̔̑̅͒̋̚͜͠h̴̢̫̮͕͓̜̟͓͌̿̍̀̋̄į̴̡̞̲̺͚͈͎̈́̈́̊̐̑̓̿̄̿̀̀̚m̷̳̖̫͉̥͔̝͈̐̂͋̒͝.̴̧̝̮̣̄̇̀̌̇̓̊̆ͅ ̸̨͕͍̲̼̺̺̌́̏̐͜ͅḄ̵̡̗̬̆̓̍̈́u̵͕̳̒́̍͐̑̓͛͌͊͝t̷̥͔͖͈͌͑̃͑̃͒̔̑̈́͑̀͠ ̴̌ͅh̵̨̨̫̦̦͇̜̲̹̼̓̈̂͌͠e̷͓̙̟͇̳̝͚̣̮̘͙͆͒͝ ̴̛͕̯̫̳͂̓̆̉̋̒̀̉͠͝ì̸͍̻̼̞̃̋͗̂̆͌͆̀͂͝s̶͖͈̥͝͠ ̶͇͔͇̻̥̪̦͓̟̝̒͌̄͗̏̈́̃͂̉͘t̷͕̥͈̟̟͕͚̭̖̺̯͎͌̃͗̃̇̿͠o̶̦̠͔̜͌̌͑̕̚̕õ̸̧̜̤̪̺̭̯̙̣̇͗͒̐̾̌̇̏̌ ̵̻͉̠̌̍̋͐̽͂̍̀͌̓̑̚w̶̢̡̗̩̣͎̳͐́̕ę̴̳͕̜̠̂̀̽̽̑̈́a̴̧̬͖̲̻̥̮͙̩̹͎̅́̆̌͜k̴̢͇͙̻̘̺̠̅̕͜.̴̣̰̰̤̥͉̼͕̩̍̐͂͋͌̈́̃̀̈́͝ ̸̡̢̟̭̣̻̻̫̻̣́͜W̷̗̞̰̣͖͓̋̾̄̔̔͋̑̅̽̈͆͘e̵̛̜̳͙̦̓́̀͋̅̐̐̏͝͠ ̴̰̣̞̳̲̰̃̆̆̓͗̔̊̒́͝͝l̴̞̩̱͑͂̍̄͒̓͌̚͠o̴̢̲͙̝͈̠͕͗̆̉̃ơ̶̞͓̥̮͓͐̈́́̉̂͗̾̉̕͝k̴͚͍̰͍̞̳͇̆͊͆͗͜e̴͈̻͖̜͇͕͉͔̲̼̅̂͒͋̀̂̏̈́̆̄̐d̶̝͌́͝͠ ̵̢̨̝͔̯͍̟̦̩̘̙̽̈̊̔̏̋͛͜͝f̶̧̟̖͇̭̐̎̌̿̾̋̐ͅo̶̯̦̻̼̓̈́̀̾̀ŗ̴̱̱͉̟̞̤̋́̾͒ ̴͓͇͔̩̟̝̮̺̇̃͜͝s̷͔̼̤̐͌́̊̈͛ọ̴́͐͛̓̇̔͗̕͝m̴̛̤̯̭͐͊e̵̢̖̲̙̜̽̈́̾̏̿̓͊̽͐̆̿͘o̵̢̢̥̤̲̱̝͇̜͙͖̥͋͂̓̂̾͝n̶̡̡̡̡͓͖̙̲̟̖̯̤͊̋̒̈̈́͆̈́́e̶̹̓͑̃͗̚͜ ̷̧̡̹͎̈́̽͛͌̅̓̿̆̌͘͝s̶̥̬̤͍̖̭̋̎̓̒́̾t̷̡̛̤̯̘͙̒͋̋̽̓͂͌̅̓̈́̈r̸̢̨͈̗͉̝̝͈̟̣̳͉̓͊̋̿̑̇ǒ̷̯͍̯̤͒ņ̷̳̼̪̞̹̠͈͔͖̭̓̚͜͠g̷̢̨̰͎͕̮̼̙͒ę̴̨̰̬̗̫̻̩̠̉͑̄̐͆͝͝͝ͅr̵̡̟̝̱͚̤̀̈ͅ.̶̟̺̘̐̈́͝ ̷̱̬̹̈̈̊͆̈́̕W̸̲̣͙̖̖̪͓̤̳̔̐̔̐̅͋̆̚͠͝e̴̺̤̭͔̘̻̰͉̓͋́͝ ̵̰͔̹̙͖̀͋f̵͔̈͊̍̍ǫ̶̘̫̖͉̦̱̞̞̥̊͝ủ̴̧͉̗̖̪̙͔̱̾̑̒͌̔̑̃́n̶̨̟̖͈̾̀̾̌͊̒͐̊̂͐̕d̵̨̩̦͈͖̅͗̈́͠͝ ̷̥̤̬̮̣̣̖͈̲͋̈̏̅̔̋̐y̸͈͔͎̋͋͑͊́͋́̂͆̈́͝͠o̷̡̰̱̼̬͓̜̳̞̚ű̴̬̹̝̩̯͕͔́͆̀̈̔͒̄͆̿͋͝.̴̤̙͇̭̘̥̱̲͍̜̬̣̈̄̌͐̅̐̈̚͠ ̸̛̤͉͙̫̖̳̞͈̻̲͕̉̊͊́̏͌̈́͋̈́̾̚Y̷̭͇̻̰͉̪͒̇̃͐͒̾͑̕̕͠ŏ̸̢̯̹͕̟̟̘͍̭̪͔ú̸͖̯̍͌̀͛̇̒ ̶̼̼͎̦̬͎̜̙́̄̃̂͝ͅẘ̶͉̳̩i̶̛̹̯͖̪̻̹̖̒̀̈́̋̒̇̇̓̈́̓͠ͅl̷͖͔̲̬̥͌̋͋l̴̢͓͎̩͚̤͈̮͕̜̈́̆͌͗̉̊͌͌̋̀̐̚͜ ̷̛̺̫̙͙͔̎̓̋ț̶̥̾̄̂͌́͘͜ȁ̴̘͇̝̺̼̇̿̃̈̅̎k̵̨̡̥͈̬͕̝̯̞̦̗̗̀͂̅̈̇̂̈́̌̾̀̅͘e̶̛͍͕̗̬̻͋̿̈̀͘͠ ̵̹̞̹̮͖̩̮̮̑̈́͌̈́̎̿̕͜ͅh̷͓͍͗̈́͛̿̓͂̂̃̀̍̈́͜͠i̷̡̨̖̯̩̳̳̋̍̆͋͋̿̿̌̒̌ͅs̷̡̥̗̞̳͛̒̀̆̌̅̆̅͋͊̚ ̴̯͐͋̈̌͘p̵̢͎͔̖̭͇̰̜̈́̀̓̒́͑̋͑̚͜͝l̶̨͉̲̟̭̦͒́͜a̴̡͔̮̝̭̥̻̒͛̓́̐̎͆̃͐͝͠ͅc̷͍̮̰̗͆͋͗͌è̵̡̜̞̣̘̮̤͓̻̞̓̒̽́͆̔̉͒̍̾͘͜.̵̘̼̗̝̫̈́͐̓͂́̏̕͘"̸̯̖͉͉̟̹̜̫͐͜

"Take his place you say. You subject a child to torture, ever since he turned four, watched him be beaten down and stand up over and over and say that he is too weak?" he felt his senses sharpen as his one visible eye widened with anger.

"̷̛͓̐̾̈̎͌̔̋̀̈́̽͠Ȋ̵̦̠̰͚̮̬̘̽͂̾ņ̵̟͍͖̭̞̗̾͘ ̴͍̭̆a̵͈̭͔͎͓̗̹̙͊̔̓̅́̇́̾̉͝ń̵̻͉̼͎̺̈́o̴̪̺̍͌̾̄̉̏̍͒͘͝ͅt̴̲͒̂͒͗̈̐̋h̵͈̍̿̋̂̒̆̎͝ȩ̵͎̺̼̦̼̩̥̖̭̍͒̌̇̐̓̌̂̒͒̕͜͜͝r̵̨̛͖̽̍͆̅̍̋͒̀̉ ̴͔̜̤̝͗ţ̵̯͎͕̖̳̬͙͂́̐́͝ī̴̻m̸̦̥̭̮̱͍͂͋̀͜ͅe̸̢͚̠̼͔̹̭̗͇̖͗̚,̶̤͚͍̩̟̰̩͎̈́̾͒͂̂͘͜͝ ̸͇͖̫͍̥̆͌̌͠h̷̫̮̑̂̀͛͋͑͆̕e̸̛͍̱͑̀̓͘̕ ̴̣̙̗̥͕̲̝̮͚̫̖̂̏̂̂́̈́͌̇͘͝w̴̛̙̥̱̎͆͑̃̀͛̓́̈̒̕ơ̸̤̖͒̔̂̈́̑̆͂ú̸̮̱͔͓̼̼̠̬̿̇͗̑̽̀̂̏̚l̸̥̥̥͠d̴̫̬̎̌̍͑͆͋͋̃̏̽͝ ̸̛̖͉͎̟̜͎̻̞͔̹̩̄́͒̏h̶̼̺̦͎̳̝̫̍̐̉͆̀̆͂͠ạ̷̦͕̮̞̱̞͍͔͂͑̐̏͂͗̋̍̃̉̋͠v̵̦̝͉̱̙͈͈̯̉́͌̆͘e̵͍̺̒́̎͒̕͠ ̴̖̟̰̹̖̮̣̫̌ͅs̴̪̹̺͍͒͒̿ȕ̶̠̫̀̂̾̄r̷̡̬̝̹̞͇͚͗̂̆̐͠v̸̧̧̥͚̭̹͇̹̏̓̐̒̉̀̑͂̉̅̆̚i̸̛̜̊́̔͊͊͆͌͗͘v̷̛͎͎̹̣̙̝͕͕̞̊̓͑͂ͅẽ̸̠̲̮̰͇̹͖̱̻̈̅̒͗͂̚d̸̨͍̜̭̭͈̳̤̙̰͗̊̃̀̾͗̀̊̒.̶͕͔͙̭̩̚ ̴̢̢̼͍̰̺̞͙͖̊̀̊̈́͐͊̒͌̔͘H̴̨͉͎͎̯̞̫͕̟͕͋̔́̇̈́̃͌̽̕ͅi̸͔̳̰͍͇̣͗̉̂̓̕ͅͅs̴̯̯͙̺̣̼͕͂̈́̐̄͝ ̴͚̤̗̞̯͇̊͑́͂̄͆̃͑͜͝ş̷̲̣̫̠̞̰͈̬̈t̷̺̣̯̪͝o̸̧̡̹̱̯̟̙͖̼̫͐͆̋̆̐͜͝r̶͙̈y̴̛̫̪̺̻̍̃ ̸̱̯̺̫͍͈̻̰̫͚̙̽̑͠ͅw̶͕̩͎͓̩̲͐̈̆͊̾͛͐̏̃ö̶̢̪̫̥̬̦̠̲͕̗̙́͒̔͘͝ù̸̧̫͕͓͔̯̩̙̞̖̲̅̈́̏̓̄͒͂̈́͌͠l̸̢̼̭̫̦̤̠̠̻̦̺̞͐̈̀̾͝d̷̘̤͕̊͊͆̾̈̈͌͒̌͂̑ ̵̦̙͋̔̐̇̚h̸̦̻͖̽͛͛͛͘a̸͓̩̬̥͒̒̑̚͠v̴̛͎̘̰̫͈͙̝͚͈͔̠͗͜e̵̬̞̮̲̺̞̅̈́͠͝ ̵̠͎̯̯̠͕̩̭̥͇̳̯̊̂͒̃̆́̀̉̃̾͑s̴̡̨̡̛̪͎̟͈̖͇̓̈̐̓̐̈́͋a̸̺̦̦̗͈̱̓̋̅t̷̡̞̄̀̅̇i̸̳̣̪͐̅ͅs̸̳̞̹͔͉̙̎̍̔̇f̵̛̱̜̥̝̘̺̘̻̰̱̾͐̋̄̔̒̌͑͝ͅi̶͎̦̱̤̊͂́̓̓̈́̾́͑̏ȩ̷͕͙͙̞̘̯̹̤͛̓̿͌̃̆͋͊͘d̴̡͕̩͐̈ ̵̤̖̓̉̏͠ȕ̶̧̖͙̱̰͙̼̦̜͓̤̠̔s̶̨̙̬̱̞̜͇̲̪̱̱̈́̀̈́̂͌̐̎͘.̷̡̝͔͔̩̞̘̲͇̘̞̩̋̃͊̇͐̽͐̐̚ ̶̨̳̦̱̖̺͓̔̎̔̐̋̿͌̇͆͂͆͜T̵̝͋̌́́̆͂̿̐̊̆̕ḩ̸̞̹͕̹̻͎̙͉̼̙̇̎̋͒̑͂̔̇͗̓͝ì̵̡̫͍̩̪͎̥̦͈̳̝̋̆̃̎̋̆̆̕͝͠ş̸̢̲̰̞̠̞̞̟̞̺̉͗̅̒̇͘̚͜͝͠͠ ̴̰̥́̀͛̓̓̅̈́í̸̧͖̹̻̹̮͋͆͜ş̸̡͇̳̦͔̪̔̅̄̕͜͜ ̶̳̬̪̞̫̏͋͊̓͠ṉ̸̨̡̗͍̻̻̰̻͚͕̻́̍̈́̇͋̂̉̑ŏ̴͙͓̬̖̬͈̪̱̲̆̊̆̊̇͜ͅţ̷͕̗̀̊̈̏ͅ ̶̧̨͉̬̥̼͚̭̈́̏̀̈́̌̄͒͘̚t̵̡͖̝̥̬̤̥͇̎̈̈́̒̅͘͠͝͠h̵͕̜̳̯̦̯͚̖̦͚̮̤̓̎a̶̢̦̩̰̤̪̾̉̈́̈̌͂̋͝t̴̙̞̗̱͆̈́́̈́̽̕ ̴̢̛̫̞̗͖͇̘͎͇́̂̌͆̓͋ͅt̷̨̪̭̤̰̭͈͖̓̐̇̊̎̋̏͑̈́i̷̧̺̖̜̖̳̭͆̆̾̾̅̄ͅm̸̨̢̛̛̲̪̗̗͔̜͕̲͆͐̈́̈́͋̈́͝ͅě̷̥͉̞̺̀̎̅͌́͋̿̒̚͠.̷̱̪̗̰̙̩͇̻̺̅̿̀̈́͂̕͜ ̸̢̨̩͎̞̻̠̩͆̽̑͘W̷̡̙͔̦̠͈̰̿̑ę̴̩̠̜̣̦̠͙̇ ̸̳̘̻̯̠̼̼͔̰̻͛̎͑̿̈͆̚ͅc̵̡̫̞̱̣̞̻̥͍̰͊̄̏̅̕͝ͅh̵̨̜̮̼͇̪̖̺͙̊͆͛͗͆̎͑̉͒̍͘̚ͅͅͅo̸̢̲͉̲͈̬͚̱̎͝ô̸̮̩͈̪̭͓͍͙͗̑̒̔̀ş̸͎̘̣̀̈́̈́̓̓͛̓̀ẽ̶̢̈́̈̒̚̕ ̵̢̖̝̜̬͖̫̹́̑̽̎̅̿͝w̶͇̲͖͑͑h̸̟̲̰͈̝̥͈̦͚̋͑̈͌̒̓̇̚͠ͅa̵̗̘͌́͋͛̑̌̽͂̑̏͜͝t̵͇͒̈́̈́̃͆ ̴̟̭͚͉͌̀̂̾̀́̈̕̕͝͠͝į̷̖̼̙̘̟̭̦̲̓̀͒̉͝s̸̖͒̈́ ̵̰͎̲̩͉͈͈͍͎̠̇̃̃̇̈́̐̕a̶̢̠̲͚̫͓̫̅̄̌͑͂̂͐̒̃n̸̠̣̪̥̮̮̊͜ḋ̸̼ ̶̡̯̠̲͉͉̹̙͑̍͊̊̉̽̈͝ẁ̷̞̩̣̥̫̹̯͕̪́̄̉̓̊̈́̈ḩ̶̢̢̜̩̫̮̹̬̟̱̦͆̉̈́͊̏̉̕a̶̮̓́́̈͛̔͝t̴̞͆̊͘ ̷͔̜̗͖͚͉̑͐̈́̅́̈i̴̡̘͈̬̻͇̳͖̓͊̓̌̓̆͒̋͝s̸͖͌͂̂̕͝n̵͖̤̪̄͒̅̂̑͐̒͐͌̃̀̕'̸̨͖̣̼̭̼̝͍̮͉̹̔́̾͂͌͐͐́͠t̸̢͕̟̰̰͉͕̅̊.̴̛̤̠̟͇͍̜̰͓͉̠̓̓̎͒̑͆͒͜͠ ̶̢̥͓̜̥̼̏̀̌Y̵̧̪̪̭͚̱̞̞̌̅̃̿ô̶̡̯̗͙̹̆́̾u̵̢̖̠̖̜͙͙̝͒̐͊̊̋̓̌̿́̑͘̕ ̶̡̨͙͈͎̣̠̤̈́̂̈́̃͊̆̀̃̚̚͠w̶̮̥̎͗̈́̎̀͒̚ï̶͓̗̗͙͉̊͑̋͑̅l̶̛̜̹͎̳̫̮̭̝̰͑̓͂͂̽̍̈͊̃̕͜͠ͅĺ̴̖̣̼͖̙͆̄̅̅͠ ̴̭̪̱̲͇͒̓͗͝ẗ̷̯͔̻́̀̚͝ͅä̶̧̱͎̥͓͍̤͔͚̮́̽̆̈̄̔̄̆̆̌͜k̵̡̡̪̲̱̻̤̭̦̇͗̓͠ę̴̤͇̜͎̦̩̬́͑̅̿͗̀̋̎́̿̚͝ ̸̛͎̺͚̬͎̝͚̇̒̐h̵̬̝̺̍ỉ̷͓̱͕̪͊̆̀̐́̇͋̀͌̚s̴̳͌̈́̿͋͆̈̔̔͠ͅ ̴̬͔̬̹̝̤̤̱͉͙̾̑̏̌͊͊͝ͅp̵̨̹̾ļ̴͇̰̜͖̗͎̗̖̑̈́̋̾̎͝ͅa̴͙̮͐̉̏̋́ͅc̸̢̫̝̯͇̖̬͐͒̽̀͆̈́̃͝ė̷̡̟̩̹̗̜̟͇͍͋̑͊̍̏͊͑͗͠.̶̰͉̄͂̎̾̋̅̈̔̚͝͠͝"̸̤̬̤̮͈̦͚̗̓̃̉̓̆̿̎́͠͠ͅ

He felt an oppressing presence weigh down on him, attacking his spirit and essence. Judging from the whimpering, the kid(Midoriya Izuku, his brain supplied) felt it too.

"It's alright Mister. I don't know who you are but you seem like a nice person. I don't know how you died, but everyone deserves a second chance." Midoriya Izuku looked up at him with a wobbly smile, kindness and self-depreciation in his eyes. He felt his heart clench.

"Kid, this is your life. You sure you want to give it to a stranger?"

"What life did I have? I was bullied, not even Mom believed in me. If I had to choose, I would choose death over that world. I don't want to live in such a wrong world." Midoriya Izuku continued smiling, though it frayed at the edges, tears welling up in his eyes.

"̷̡̖̫̝̘̻̻̟̉Y̵̫̭͚̪̪̫̲̝̾̽̏́̕̕ȍ̵̧̘̹͔̟͔̗̭͆̀͒̊̇͗͘ū̷̯̲̮̹͚̝͍̯͈͖͊̓͒̏ ̵̡͓̲͉͕͉̪̐͒̽̐̒͌͒͐͘̕͝d̶̞̩̬̟͎̱͔̀̆͑̌͋̈́̍̔o̵͉̯̎̾͐̿̀͌͛͊̑ͅn̵̢̳͔͇͙̟͕̳̖͖̂̓̿̊̈́́́̐̎͠'̷̡͕̍̆t̵̡̛͚̤̣͕̙̰̰̭ ̷̧̘͙̥̰̻̣̘̭̄͒́̊̌h̴̢̞͉̣̖̳̣͖̰̻̠̍̀̈́͐̑́͌̓͝à̷̺̺̤̝̽̆͋̀͊v̵̳͕̟̉̾̾̓͛̂̌̇̔̕̚ę̵̜̼̠͕̩͕̞̟̖̊̓ ̶̗͙̞̥̲͗͋̄̆͆̂͜͜͝ą̷̠̞̻̮̝̘͆̿̓̈́̋̆͌ ̶̞̬̻͙̹̮͓͈̭̞͇̽̅̇͋͂̌̀͘̚͜c̶̭͖̲͖̹̱̈́̉̆́̐̈́͝ḩ̸̟͚̟̩̺̪͓̟̭͠õ̵̺̯̠͓͖̺̪͜i̵̘̰͇̗̣̥͌̓̂̏̌͆̑̊̉͂̅̚c̵̝̻̥͖̉͛̓̅͛͘͠ȅ̵̬̫̻̮̜̖̻́͑̓̀̊̐̍͌̏̚͜.̵̢̢̨̛̪̝͕̙̩̝͈̚͝ ̶͎͇̠̦̩̟̇̓̽͆͌͐̊̋̚͝W̸̡̠̏͑̐̿̎̓̈́̇ḛ̵̲̱͔̞͚͒̏ ̴̛̛͓͕͕͒́̐̈́͛ẅ̷̛̳̤̰͍̘̙͈̥̘̪͇͎́̓͑̐̄̓̚i̷͕͎̓̋̊͛͂̈́l̴̡̢̢̺̬̝͚̺̪̇̋͛̋̍l̵̢̺̤̙̦͉̭̜̪̈́̒̌͆̚ ̶̢̗̪̓̏p̸̥̪͓̪̟̹̾͐̔̓̃̅̚͜͜r̸̜͖̪̳̥̼̪̩̖͒̆̊͆͘e̴̤̐́̃̽̀̈̅̾̀̍͂p̸̥̑̏̔́͘ă̶̡̨̼̙̗͚̰͔̠̊̃͊͂r̶͈͙̪̬̝̤̈́̒͑͐̎̏̓̈́̕̕̚͝ę̸͈͎͉̫̮̏͂̃̄̕͜͝͠ ̶͈̻͍͔̃̉́͑͌͌̉͘ä̵̛͔̱͚̙̫̮͈̿͗̋͒̆̓̔͂̔ņ̵̢͎̱͖̤͖̪̙̙͚̉͠ḋ̸͍͕̳͇̭̻̄͘͜ͅ ̶̧̡̡̢̰̻̲̩̘͎͗y̶̩̯̮̹̹̮̜͈̮̞͎̋̔̌͗̀̾͝ő̶͉̿̐̄̐̓͠ù̷͉̜͇̄̔̋̏̆́̍͘͝ͅ ̴̺̦̮̫̭̺̟̫̉͑̈̓̄͜w̶̡̙̠̟̭̝̺̟̦̠̋́̆̅̅͒̈́̐̀̀͝i̶̥̹̠̺̬̐̓͝ͅͅl̵̨̼̹͈͋̂̚ͅl̴̛̲͉͙̮̬͒̒͊͊͌̋̌̀͘ ̷̨̫̃̈́̒̌͘ŵ̸̡̨̧̛̛̱̞̥̠̹͔̻͖͓̿͐̕͘͝â̷͓̝͙̰̔̈́̇̍̎̇̈̎͝͠k̴̘̲̥͋̇̄̃̊͗̐̚̕̚ė̷̟̪͇͇̗͗̒̍͒̂̀̿̆̈̓̇ ̴̬̣͕̼̈́̽̉̑̏̈͒́͘u̷̗͐̄̓͊̀̉̓̐͑͘̚͝p̴̢̻̞̉̈́̇̈̂̀͗͐̎̽͝ ̶̹̭̚i̸̹̬̼̼̋́̓̒̚͘͠n̵̠̜̰̬̊̆̐̿͒̓ͅ ̴̭̱͔͕̮̙̟̣̉̎ḩ̸̼̗̙̳̭̦̦̥͕̳̭͐́͂͊̚͝i̴̡̺̠̯͒͗́̊͠s̸̡̢̡͉̯̲̭̤̙͋͛͛̈̂̐̉̔̓͘͝ ̶̢͕̎̾̾͛̒̾̂̑̑̾͠b̶̧͖̮͝ͅo̴̘͇̿͘ͅḑ̶̳͉̍̏̀̑̀̒̈͛̒̏̑y̴̛̫̺͕͇̣̬̖̜̰̬͗̍̄͜.̴̢̰͔̝̣̀͂̽́̆͠."̷̯̞̄̽͂

"Shut up." the rage picked up, boiled and tore at his insides, aching to be released. Even as the weight pressed down on him, he got to his feet, drawing a dagger. A small cut made it spring to its full length, glowing with life and wielded with one hand. He could feel the presence waiver as he finally looked at the faces. Pixels and static greeted his vision, racing through each nerve and searing into his eyes. Even still, he continued watching, pain distant and held at bay. He swung the sword lazily and the next instant, the giant chess board was diced into neat sections, yet the pieces remained unharmed. As a shrill scream escaped his throat, he spat at the "gods".

"Why should you be the ones in control?" strings almost naked to the naked eye materialized, wrapping tightly around the two individuals as they resisted. Fire and ice, lightning and wind, creatures that should not be named and things that should not exist attacked, battering his body and crushing the pieces. He continued his screams, feeling every inch of his being ripped apart and stitched together, doused in acid and set on fire, torn apart and feasted on. Yet, each time the raging volley subsided, he stood up and continued his assault. Surprisingly, his levels remained stable, enabling him to continue, grin stretching and contorting as panic and fear began to show themselves. Gods? What a joke. Each time the volley restarted, it grew weaker, until the figures were bound and not a single inch was untouched. The regal, empty land was utterly and totally destroyed. The only patch of land remaining untouched was that which held Midoriya Izuku and the ground under his feet. Breaking a knuckle, he felt a wave of satisfaction overcome him as the figures screamed in unison. They screamed for an instant and for an eternity before falling silent, writhing like insects under a magnifying glass. Ignoring them, the man walked through the wreckage, eyes landing on two specific pawns. One had an intricate eye carved into it, with red veins extending from it and creating a maze of blood. Another was cracked and chipped, touching it gave him a slight prickling sensation, as if a small current ran through it. Picking both up, he walked back to the shell-shocked boy, depositing the pieces into his lap.

"Midoriya Izuku. Fate had it that you would endure things other children your age would never understand just because you were destined for greatness. You have a choice now. Return to your old life and start over or pass on into the afterlife, if there is one. Choose wisely."

"Mister… what about you? Aren't you going to be stuck here?"

"I was planning on passing on but, well, someone has to watch these two. My story has ended, just like those that I parted with before their time. Perhaps this is penance."

Watching the green-haired child, he smiled softly at the look of indecision on his face. When he raised the scarred pawn, the last thing he expected Midoriya Izuku to do was to smash it. A powerful wave of energy blew him off his feet, lightning arching from the sky and striking the boy. Except, Midoriya Izuku was unharmed. Eyes glowing with power and a new found spirit, he pressed the remaining pawn into his hand before pushing him. Stepping slightly backwards, he found nothing below him. Starting to fall, he looked at the boy with shock and barely concealed horror.

"Kid! You can't move on if you let me use your body! Stop this! I've lived long enough, your life has barely begun!"

"Someone has to watch these two right? You said it yourself! Come visit me sometime Mister! I'll be here waiting."

Just before he fell into the void, the man's agonized expression stretched into a pained grimace, yet his eyes held a grim determination. Before he vanished, his last words would reach the boy with power coursing through his veins and tears dripping from his eyes.

"Midoriya Izuku! My name is Kaneki Ken! Remember it, for I will come back!"

The boy grinned widely, wiping away his tears and waving goodbye. While Kaneki would not hear his words, he still said them anyway.

"I'll be right here Kaneki-san."

He woke up face first in a puddle of warmth. Bracing his hands against the ground(and noting how tiny they were), he got into a sitting position. The first thing Kaneki noticed was the copious amount of blood surrounding him. Red painted the walls, the floor and was still expanding, diverting into smaller paths and leading away from the epicenter of impact. Guess Midoriya really did jump off a roof. He frowned, mood dampened by the thoughts flooding his head. Taking a good look at his new body, he noted its similarities to the child he had met cowering before proclaimed gods. Same body structure, same age, but any exposed areas were covered with scars, faint in some places and strikingly obvious in others. Staring at his reflection in the shimmering liquid before him, he forced himself to watch his new appearance, memorizing it and recognizing how he had changed Midoriya's body.

For one, his kakugan was active and much more unnatural on the youthful appearance of his new face. His other eye had a mesmerizing mix of grey and green, almost like it was constantly changing colours. His hair was, once again, a stark white(he sighed at looking like an old man again) but with green highlights along his right side. Brushing his hair into a more presentable position, Kaneki stood up and took a quick glance of the surroundings. He was in a secluded area, with the sounds of traffic coming from his right(but muffled, something in the way?) and no one in sight. Looking up and guessing the most likely building the boy had leaped from, he was thankful(and slightly guilty) that Midoriya had chosen to go out without anyone being able stop him in time. Checking his attire, he realized with some happiness that he was dressed in an outfit reminiscent of his cloak and suit battle gear(adapted from Arima, sue him) and the welcome weight of his weapons anchored him for the time being. Surprisingly, his clothes were not stained with blood, which he was infinitely grateful for. Having finished his mini-analysis, Kaneki shifts away from the pool and sits against a wall, thinking.

What next?

From what he remembered from the memories helpfully shown to him(stop downgrading, they were forcefully downloaded into your mind), Midoriya Izuku still had a mother(she didn't care, she would be better off without him) and… that was about it actually. Depressing much? Kaneki forced himself to screen through them once more, faster but with added precision. Childhood friend(no, bully now), father(missing, probably hated his quirkless son), schoolmates(bullies or bystanders, there are no in betweens), any friends in general(no, nada, zilch). If Midoriya Izuku just disappeared off the face of the Earth,

No one would care.

He snapped a knuckle. This world was terrible. The population was separated according to the strong and weak, yet a weak or useless quirk was still considered better than being quirkless. He would never understand humans(you were once human not anymore) and their need to oppress. It was just nauseating. Heroes and villains fought with little to no regard for casualties or damage done to structures(Endeavor, no.2 hero? He would have to look into that) because they were "saving the day". Vigilantes, people who used their quirks "unlawfully" did less damage than them and saved more lives. Underground heroes were interesting to note, for they did not do it for the fame and stuck to more discrete tactics. He would have to watch out for them. Smiling bitterly, he mentally apologized to the kind boy which had laid down his chances just to give him a retry at a better life. Kid, I won't be able to continue living like you did.

It's time for Midoriya Izuku to disappear.

No one saw the inhuman clad in a child's skin exit the alley, melting into the crowd and vanishing without a trace. A few hours later, the smell of blood would have attracted curious passers-by, which then led to the police surrounding the scene. After a couple of tests and calls, Midoriya Inko received the news that her son was dead. Too numb to cry, she put down the phone and sat on her couch, wondering what she could have done differently.

No body was police ruled it as a villain attack.

No one noticed just another face in the crowd, a small child with odd clothes and a sad smile.

No one would know what changes he would bring in the future.

And that's a wrap. How was it? I hope that it was satisfactory. To those reading my other story that came here as well, this is not the reboot. That's another story I'm not willing to juggle yet. Anyhow, before I forget, I must say that Kaneki won't be showing up until a lot later. Prepare for a cryptic, confusing story. Hope you liked it!