The moment I closed my eyes, I expected to get a well-earned rest. Keyword: expected.

Instead, the moment unconsciousness took me, I was somewhere else.

At first, it was just fog. Thick, heavy, swirling at my feet like it had a life of its own. There was no sound. No movement. Just stillness, eerie and suffocating.

Then came the feeling.

That awful, creeping sensation of being watched.

I turned, but there was nothing—just an endless, shifting haze. My own breathing sounded too loud, too sharp, echoing unnaturally.

Then—

A hand.

A pale, cracked, decayed hand reached out from the fog. At first, it was just one, fingers twitching like a dying insect.

Then another.

And another.

Until they were everywhere.

Crawling toward me.

Grasping at my ankles.

Climbing up my arms.

Suffocating me.

I tried to move, but they clung to me like rotting vines, pulling me down into the thick abyss beneath my feet.

A voice followed. Hoarse. Mocking. Wrong.

"They're coming for you, hero."

My breath caught. My stomach twisted.

And then I saw him.

Shigaraki.

He stood just beyond the fog, barely visible, yet somehow the only thing I could clearly see.

His eyes glowed red, too bright, too unnatural. His grin stretched too wide, like he knew something I didn't. His hands twitched with barely restrained power.

He didn't move. Didn't attack.

He just stood there. Watching. Waiting.

I tried to speak, to ask why the hell he was in my head, but before I could, the scene around me shifted.

The fog vanished.

And suddenly, I was somewhere else entirely.

A massive structure surrounded me—cold steel, glass domes, endless space stretching in every direction. It looked... familiar.

No, it was more than familiar.

I knew this place.

USJ.

But it was wrong.

The air felt thick, charged with something dangerous, something suffocating.

And then, out of nowhere, I felt the ground shake.

A low, guttural growl rumbled through the space, vibrating in my bones.

I turned just in time to see it.

A monster.

Massive. Too many muscles, too many scars, no eyes—just raw, horrifying strength given form.

Its breathing was heavy, labored, like a beast ready to be unleashed. Its presence was suffocating, crushing.

I could feel it in my gut—pure destruction stood before me.

The thing tilted its head toward me.

And then—

It moved.

Fast. Too fast.

I barely had time to react before the world exploded around me.

I braced for impact.

For pain.

For death.

But—

I woke up instead.

Gasping.

Drenched in sweat.

Heart pounding against my ribs, throat dry, hands shaking.

It took me a full minute to realize I was still in my bed. Safe.

But my mind?

My mind was far from safe.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force away the images, but they wouldn't leave me. The hands. The fog. The monster.

And Shigaraki.

Just watching.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, but one thought refused to leave my mind.

USJ.

I didn't know how or why, but I was absolutely sure that was where I had been in my dream.

And something—someone—was going to be there.

....

The cold water hit my skin like a slap to the face. I let it run, standing there under the steady stream, head tilted forward, eyes closed.

For once, the cold didn't make me shiver. It just felt right.

Like I needed something—anything—to ground me.

The dream still clung to the edges of my thoughts, sticky and suffocating, like a web I couldn't untangle myself from. No matter how hard I tried, the images wouldn't leave.

Shigaraki. The fog. The monster.

USJ.

I sucked in a deep breath, the sound of running water drowning out my thoughts for a moment. I stayed under the shower longer than necessary, letting the water wash over me, hoping—praying—that maybe, just maybe, I could scrub away the exhaustion caked into my bones.

It didn't work.

With a sigh, I finally turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel. My movements felt robotic, like I was barely present in my own body. I dried my hair lazily, rubbing at my face before finally—finally—looking up.

And I regretted it.

Because the moment I met my own reflection, I barely recognized myself.

The person staring back at me looked drained. Done. Dark circles clung under dull green eyes, my hair a messy, unruly mop from the towel. My face looked thinner, my expression hollow.

I let out a slow breath, placing both hands on the sink, staring at myself like I was looking at a stranger.

When did this happen?

When did I start looking like this?

I knew the answer.

I just didn't want to admit it.

It all started with one stupid decision.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

I was supposed to be dead.

I was supposed to jump.

But I didn't.

Because some messed up cosmic joke decided that instead of dying, I'd get handed the most ridiculous, most life-ruining power imaginable.

And now, apparently, I was the last hope for humanity.

I snorted, the sound bitter even to my own ears.

Hope? Yeah, right.

I was the most unqualified person for this job. The least equipped to deal with it. Me, the kid who once thought the only way out was off a rooftop, was now supposed to save the world?

It was a joke. A sick, twisted joke.

I dragged a hand down my face, my fingers pressing into my skin as if I could force some kind of sense into this mess.

I hated this.

I hated all of this.

I never asked to be some magical girl messiah. Never asked to be tangled in this ridiculous, chaotic nightmare.

I was supposed to just disappear quietly.

Instead, I was here.

And I couldn't escape it.