This was the simplest weapon he had.
The broken piece of plastic from the toy sword wasn't much, but at least its edge was sharper than the original. Kuro drove it into the tongue, gripping the shard tightly with one hand while trying to pull the slick appendage from his neck with the other.
It slipped.
The surface was coated in thick mucus, impossible to hold. He hadn't expected that. The moment his grip failed, the tongue twisted, coiling around his arm and pinning it in place.
"Hehehe… I like the ones who struggle," the creature hissed. "Too weak, though. Not much of a challenge… and such an ugly face."
The tongue dragged across Kuro's chest.
His stomach churned.
He knew almost nothing about villains. He'd never paid attention to crime reports or Hero broadcasts. As far as he was concerned, danger had always been distant—something that happened to other people.
If he had known more, he would have recognized the creature immediately.
A known villain.
A predator.
Its tongue opened again, forming a mouth and eye along its length. A thin needle slid out from its core.
"I especially like kids like you," it said, voice warped and gleeful. "The ones who endure."
The needle drove straight into Kuro's palm.
His body jerked.
He bit down hard on his lip, trying to suppress the pain. His fingers twitched, but the tongue held him in place. There was no escaping it.
If his quirk still worked—
The thought flashed through his mind and disappeared just as quickly.
His ability had been pushed too far ten years ago. Since then, he could only redirect damage from objects onto himself. Redirecting his own injuries wasn't something he could do instantly.
Quirks needed training.
And he had never trained his.
Why would he? He had no intention of becoming a Hero.
Now, he paid the price.
"Strange," the creature muttered. "Doesn't that hurt enough?"
It laughed, low and pleased.
"The other three would've been screaming by now."
Another needle appeared.
It pressed slowly into one of Kuro's fingers.
Then another.
And another.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
By the time it reached his fingertips, tears had already started to fall, unbidden. Pain radiated through his hands, sharp and relentless. His body trembled, but he refused to scream.
That restraint only made things worse.
"I'll take my time with you," the creature said, its tone thick with anticipation. Then its attention shifted.
The children.
The tongue turned, dragging the needle toward them.
Kuro's eyes snapped open.
No.
His arms were bound tightly together. He couldn't move. He could only watch as the needle drew closer to the terrified children, their faces streaked with tears.
The creature's true body emerged slightly from the grass, grinning as it approached. It usually kept its distance, letting the tongue do the work. But this time, it wanted to enjoy it up close.
Ever since All Might arrived in the city, it had been hiding, cautious.
Now, it was careless.
Because of him.
Kuro.
The scarred boy it found so entertaining.
Another needle slid into place, traveling through the hollow tongue, guided toward the waiting mouth near the children.
The creature's eyes gleamed.
This was what it lived for.
The fear.
The pain.
The moment before everything ended.
A sharp jolt of pain shot through the tongue.
The creature froze.
Through the eye embedded in its own appendage, it saw Kuro.
The boy had moved.
Blood dripped from his mouth. His hands were still pierced with holes, but several of the needles were gone.
Three of them were now embedded deep in the tongue.
He had pulled them out with his teeth.
The creature's chest tightened.
Kuro's face was twisted in pain, but his eyes—
Those eyes burned.
It had seen that look before.
In Heroes.
"You're trying to save them?" the creature said, almost curious now. "They insulted you. Called you names."
Kuro's voice came out hoarse.
"Yes."
His fingers barely responded anymore. Even the smallest movement sent waves of pain through his hands.
Still, he stood there.
"I don't want to kill you," the creature said slowly. "I want to keep you."
It tilted its head.
"You'd make a perfect collection."
It could let him go.
Then hunt him later.
Piece by piece.
A slow death, stretched out over time.
The tongue loosened slightly.
"You can go."
Kuro felt the pressure ease, the sticky grip around him weakening.
"Alright," he said.
"But you can't tell anyone about me," the creature added. "I'll be watching."
Kuro smiled faintly.
"Okay."
For a moment, everything went still.
Then—
"Well, that's a stupid idea."
The words slipped out, quiet but clear.