#shans.aus

[shans-writings]

—–-- AU-GUST PROMPTS 2021 :

↳ Day 1 : Ancient Gods.

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↳ Main Info :

BNHA / MHA short story.

All Might and Endeavor are ancient gods and Shigaraki Tomura is the new Death in town.

Non explicit violence content, no sexual content, no mention of dead.

Safe for minors.

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“Tonight I will kill a god.”

The stranger slammed the glass on the table. His friend, who had laughed at such insolence as if it were a joke, put her hand to his chest, so that he would not stand up.

“You cannot kill a god,” the stranger's expression was fixed on the traveler in front of them, in the hollowed darkness under his hood, the type that didn't let his eyes be seen. “The gods do not die. This is not how the world works.”

Beside him, the stranger's friend pretended to be amused, though over his glass he was watching them warily.

He did not believe that he and the stranger were real friends. They were completely different, one like the heaven's, one like the underworld. Yet the stranger and his friend were about the same height and width, with the same bulging muscles under tight clothing, the same hard cuts on their faces. Their swords, the size of a dragon's fang, were tied behind their back by a golden band across their chests. Neither really needed them to inflict harm, much less to exercise their authority. But the bands had their ranks written on them and they matched the crowns on their heads, the rings on their biceps, the golden markings under their eyes… Those were their honor as warriors, which marked them and distinguished them from all the rest.

The traveler, who had not revealed a name, so the stranger's friend only thought of him as the traveler, made a strange noise that seemed to come out of his throat, leaning both elbows on the table. Was he laughing? The friendliest of warriors hastened to direct the conversation to safety, recounting all the times someone tried to kill a god and failed. He talked a lot, it wasn't easy to put him in a bad mood. Usually he left it to the stranger to make enemies, for he was so brutal that it was easier for him to force himself into situations, but not with words.

After a long time, the stranger and his friend heard the doorbell.

The rest of the tavern customers turned to look at the newcomers, keeping silent. The two bulky men kept staring in front of them, at the traveler, who had once again let out that chilling sound that was his laughter. In a hummingbird flutter, the traveler stretched out his hands and the golden bands of the strangers began to explode, first those of their chests, their heads, their arms, their eyes. Both bulky men rose to their feet, but it was clear that these bands were not decorative, which could not be hidden for much longer. Of those bands that had served to seal their colossal powers and pass them off as humans, only dust remained.

In the middle of the tavern, All Might, god of wind blows, and Endeavor, god of the flames of hell, had their skin and eyes alight with the light of their divine cores, so much so that half the tavern had to stumble out into the street, or close your eyes to avoid being momentarily blind.

Endeavor drew his sword from him, but All Might was still hesitant. He studied the dark robe the stranger wore, his lanky posture. A sense of dark terror washed over his chest, which he knew immediately because no god was used to fear. The longer he watched him, the more he felt there was something ancient there. He was frightened that the creature could reveal itself and be a copy of himself, a wandering mirror, distorted and new, spotless, so bright and flawless that it'd drive people him.

“What are you?” The god of the winds finally asked.

“The only thing that can truly end itself.”

The traveler removed the robe from him in one fluid motion. No, the god thought, the robe simply ceased to exist when touched to transform into something else, a kind of function between divine matter and organic matter of the human world.

Now he was finally beginning to understand what was happening.

A sharp knock told him that the tavern door had been fully opened. Slowly, as in a dream. The torch fire turned from orange to blue, shadows and men multiplying, compressing the air. It smelled of river, of blood, and the atmosphere thickened until both gods could only perceive each other by the brightness of their eyes, as well as their unearthly gazes.

One after another, disembodied hands turned to the lord of him, holding the parchment and feathers for him so that he could read without touching. From behind, the voices of everyone present began to speak in turn.

“Toshinori Yagi, All Might, god of wind blows and of peace among the tribes. Todoroki Enji, Endeavor, god of the flames of hell and the terror of the fallen. Meet our lord of decay, Shigaraki Tomura. "

Death.

Yagi wanted to fight. He knew Enji would do it, even if it was to taste his god blood.

"May I ask how you plan to kill a god, child?"

Oh, how the roles had changed. All Might heard someone hiss, not daring to turn around. Shigaraki perm He was calm, smiling. The more he looked at him, the more Yagi felt his spine bend toward the ground.

“Have you chosen his replacement yet?”

Nothing, none of the gods spoke. Shigaraki scratched his neck, floating hands signed the scroll and closed it, gently placing it in his hands. As a final gesture, his hands extended their bony fingers to the sky again and then, in a second, his form decomposed in mid-flight and Death's entire body enveloped the gods, until he materialized on the other side. .

In the hands of Death, two pearls had remained. One golden like the high summer wind, another red like the blood and sulfur bottoms meters and meters underground.

Toshinori was the first to collapse. His skin stuck to his bones, he was shrinking until he was no more than an old man on his knees. He couldn't stand up, no matter how much he wanted to.

Enji retained his physique, but there was no light in his eyes. Everything that made him a god was gone. He felt it as the greatest pain, he knew that his cores were intact, but with all his immortality it would take years of devotion to fill that void again.

Years they would not have.

They heard Shigaraki Tomura laugh one last time, as he went with his entourage into the great darkness beyond the door.

And the old gods, that night, learned how you can kill a god. They must replaced and sentenced to exile, until no one remembers them.

And finally... Nothing, oblivion.