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Akumu Sadako frowned into her neatly folded hands.

It would seem her green moth has escaped from her web somehow.

 

Ṕ̷̳͘r̷̙̟̉̑ȇ̴̻ţ̶̑ť̸̲̰̂̓y̶̢̧̜̌ ̷̞̉͛b̶͍̾r̸̯̐̒ȯ̶̲͕̤̾͘k̶̮̣̯̕e̵̱̝͊̋͜n̷̠̮͒ͅ ̷̣͕͈͒w̶̙̩͆͆͝i̴͈̗̕n̴͉̰͖͂̈́̚g̴̜͓̱̅s̸̡̟͌ͅ ̵͐̔͜c̴̺̳̝̾ą̴̬͗̈s̶̲̱̗̍c̷̝͉̓̀a̸̢̛̪͓͆d̵̘͋͜i̸̛̪͊n̸̝̖̐͒g̶͚͊̊ ̷̧̯̻̈́͛ẗ̵̛̩́͝h̷̲̘͠e̶̟̿͠ ̷̗̋b̸̰͠ǎ̶̺̣c̴͖̪͕̋͛̃k̵̙͈͚͝ ̵̨̈́͝ǒ̶͉̝͑̒f̶̡̠̖̏̾ ̵̫͊̈͗h̸̰̘̭̓e̴̯̗͐r̸̤̮̳͠ ̴̳̥͋͝ͅŝ̷͎w̶̮͌e̴͖̺̎e̸̞̯̿͑͠t̵̟͜ͅ ̷̝͇͐͂̑l̸͎͈̝͆͗̿i̴͈̤̙̓͋t̷̯̕t̷̪̜̳̅͋l̵̠͓̄͐̇e̶̜͇͆̔ ̶̻̒m̷̝̓ô̵͈̥t̶̠̹̩̿̑̚ẖ̴̠͈͊̈́͑.̵̰̉͒ ̴̬̦͂͆͛S̶̤̊ư̷̞̱͂̚c̸͔͈̄h̴̩́̆ ̶̲̠̥͑b̷̭̠̮͌̌ḛ̸̫̄̚ͅa̷͖͓̤̅ů̴͔̦͘ț̷͚͑̈͒í̵̡͓̹̕f̵͕̾ȗ̸̜̰̚l̸̘̳͕̍ ̶̟̕p̶̻̩̫͂ả̶͙̅l̵̗̉͋̍ẻ̷̽͜͝ ̶̲̩͐̕s̶͓̘̫̈́c̶̔ͅa̶̡̜̯̿͆̉r̴̢͎͝s̵̱͉̞̓͗ ̷̝͒ć̸͙͔̞a̵̝͊̌r̶̪̀v̸̧̛͉̗͊̌ẻ̴̹̞̏̃ͅḓ̸͉̈́̃ ̵̢̢̮̇͛i̵̬̎͘͝n̵̜̅t̸͔̩́o̸͔̫̔͂ ̸̻͒͐͝t̵̗̬̊h̶̲̘̃̈e̶͉̦̊͑ ̴̰̤̑͐o̵͎͈͍͛͝h̵͍͗̕͠ ̷̱̞̞̽s̵̺̝͐͑o̵͓̽̔̕ ̶̛̼͍̙͐d̷͈̼̉͝ę̴̺̜̓͐ľ̴̦͈̀̌ï̷̧̭͗̒c̶̞͋͑a̵͖͛t̵̗̙̏̿̄ě̷̛̬ ̷͔̹̘̽t̵̫̤̆̒ẖ̵̞̂͛ḭ̶̣͘͠ͅn̸̦̰͈̾̋g̷̛̻͓̈́.̷̨̯̠̄͝ ̵̼̇O̸͉̰̮͊̄̈́n̵̙̻͐͗̓é̸̼̔ ̴̻̾m̷̳͐̂͠o̷͈̟̪͛͂m̷̢̢͔͋́̅e̶̛̫̙̒n̷͉̼̽͜t̶̡͎͛ ̷̡̪̽f̵͕̫͋͝r̴̜̅̓͝ò̴͉̰͛̑m̴͔̜͎̈͊̈ ̶̨̪͎̽̈́̚b̷̰̈̄r̵̬̉̃e̸̥̼͂͗ȧ̵͕̯̼̈́k̶̳͂ī̶͍̹n̸̛͖̙g̷͔̜̾ͅ.̷̢̯̫̿͐ ̸̲̍O̶̱̰͌͋n̵͍͉̒̐e̶̖͠ ̶̧̙̏̉̽m̴̳̿̌ō̵͇̬m̸͍̗̚e̴̠̭̍n̷̢̞͊͒͜t̴̡̟̉̿̃ ̴͇̉f̴̼͒r̷̮̙̓̏o̶͔̭̱͂m̶̻̿̕ ̵̛̙̙s̵̖̺͋̃h̷̢̬̋̾a̴͎̒̋t̷̠̜̝̆t̵̩̿͝e̶͍̗̽͜r̴̰̜͛í̷̗̭̞͊n̸͈̪̓g̵̛̃͜-̷̪̇͝

 

Midoriya Izuku… someone quite curious to her.

Sadako was intelligent, she knew that well.

And she was also curious.

Always hungering for information and power.

Maybe that was why she became a villain.

But this boy confused her.

Something was… off about him.

And she wanted to know why.

It was such a shame that he had been sent to good old normal Cassidy. 

 

I̴̼̦̜͉̝̣̙͋̃͐̂S̴̻̗̍̏̐̅͝ẅ̷͕̲̙̺́̎̾̀͑̎̾ͅẽ̸̗̙̤̈́̋͂̔͝͠ë̴̗͈́̕ţ̴̡̥̹͖͎̭͆̿͝͠ ǵ̶̛̠̼̆͐̎̀̂n̵̠̅̃͂͑͘͝o̷̳̬̟͘r̴͉̗̀̽̑̋̐͗̇ä̶͕̝̜̯́̏̕͘n̵̙̬̠̟̿̓̍́́͑͘t̷̙̬̿̇ ̸̼̜̘͍̠̔ȋ̶̱͇̮̘͙̤͇̏̿͊̀n̷͉̣͠s̵̼̓̏͝è̴͔̥̫͈͍̌͋c̴̝̖̐̈́t̴̩̤͇̪͙̖̪́͌̿̾̑s̷̥̮̱͔͕̆̑̃̊!!!


She would have preferred to put him with someone less… innocent.

Akumu sighed and looked deep into her mind and the formed connections in it.

She had a lot of connections, like little webs going from her mind to other people’s.

Each string was a different color and had a different feel.

She was concentrating on the dark green one that felt heavy yet fragile.

Inko Midoriya.

Many weeks ago, she had arranged a meeting with the woman via email, imploring her to come without telling her son. 

Akumu was surprised the woman complied, though that certainly worked in her favor.

Akumu met with the green-haired lady who looked oddly nervous to meet her.

Akumu was on guard immediately, suspicious. 

This woman knew something… that was a problem.

In that moment Akumu had the thought to kill the woman right then and there.

But then she had an idea.

Instead of killing or threatening the kind woman she made her comfortable and served up tea.

After an hour or two of small talk poor Inko Midoriya had warmed right up to her.

Though that may have been because she was under the influence of a quirk.

Akumu’s quirk.

Akumu had an interesting quirk.

It was called “Soul Bound”.

 

T̷͉͚̓͘h̷͖͛͋̂e̶͕͈̼͊ ̵͔̼̾̋͝m̵̻̒̐̚o̷̯̥͓͋s̸̮͖̈͜ţ̵͉̈́͛͒ ̶͇̺̌f̷͖̲͒̿r̴̹͉̗̄̂i̴͍͌͗g̸̢̱͋̕͜h̷̝̓ẗ̸̬͔͎̇e̴̲͂ń̴̺̍̚ḯ̵̝̖ň̷͙̤͊͋g̸̨̗̣͑ ̶̼́m̴͎̾͋͜͜͝ṏ̵̼͔̪́̒n̵̤̥͆s̶̼͒̀͐ͅt̶̪͎͇͌̓̓ę̸̬̽̐̀ͅr̵̖͗͂̇s a̴͔͚͓͛̅̏r̷̬͚̊e̸̢̾͋ ̸͍̖̼̃̋t̴̰͚͊͊h̶̺̭͔͐e̶͎͔̘͋̉̈́ ̴̡̝̈́ỏ̷͍͓n̸̞͆ę̷̘͇̇͒s̴̭͠͝ ̸̮̰̱̇̈͘w̴̰̕h̶̲̐̂͂ǐ̵̤̹͑͋c̶̗̔h̷̲̞̿̑͝ ̸̨̗͗̀͗ͅd̶͈̊̋w̴̡͓̻͗̒͝e̵̩̱͆͠l̷̤̹̑ͅl̴͕͖̮͐͐ ̶̠͊̚i̶̡̙̯͋ṅ̶̡̧͇ ̸͙̈ȍ̸̝͔̼ü̴̇ͅṟ̸͛́͂ ̸̫̲̋s̴̨̖̜̓̆ǒ̵̞͙͆ű̵̖͘̚l̷̘̾s̶͍̳̈́́.̶̘͔͛̀͜

 

And despite the innocent name, it was anything but that.

Her quirk allowed her to make connections with someone’s mind, or what the doctors decided to call ‘soul’. 

Akumu just thought they were being dramatic.

She was able to connect her and someone else’s mind as long as they ingested a bit of her DNA.

A drop of blood in an unassuming cup of tea was enough for that.

She formed connections that she alone could feel unless she made herself known in someone’s mind willingly. Not even people with strong mental quirks could detect her. 

Through that connection she could do many things. 

She could look through the eyes of the person she was connected to.

She couldn’t exactly look into their memories, but she could feel the emotions felt by the person in those unknown moments.

But most importantly of all…

She could manipulate them.

She can manipulate thoughts and emotions, planting seeds into their head. 

It wasn’t foolproof, but it almost always worked with the weaker of willed people.

Including Midoriya Inko.

 

(O̷̜̍͝h̵̺̦͖̰͛͆͂ ̸̻̣̫̎͛͛̐h̶̨̬̤̓͌͜o̵̫̘̼͛̾͐w̵̗̋ ̸̤͈̏̊̓͘Ǎ̸̘k̶̨̞̪͛̌̅͜͠u̴̡̺͈̠̕ṃ̶͆́́u̴̩̮̤͛̊ ̷̤̩̎L̸̗͇̫̿͛̄̐O̶̭̓̏V̷̱̎̌̾Ë̸̢̪́̽D̷͇̄͘ ̵̩͎̩̩̊r̶̨̭̬͑̓̕i̴̻̣̤̫p̴͎̲̓̔̈́͠p̴̲͚̣͋ͅī̸̭͇̼͇ǹ̵͉̻̔̈́g̶̼̬̟̮̒͐̚ ̵͕̦̎̕ͅī̴͙̖͉̅̏ņ̷̘̭͓̕t̴̠͎͓̒͂̏̅ö̷͙́́̍ ̶̤̤͕̥̆͐̈́͛t̴̤̳̳̾͜h̴͚̥̲̍̎̇̈́ȩ̷̛̺̪̝̍ ̴̲͂̅͘f̴͈͂l̴̖̖͗̐͘e̷̱̤̭̓̌s̵̠͛͠ͅḫ̵͉̪̈́̑̑ ̵̲̻̺͋̒͆̕ȯ̸͍f̸̨̼̃ ̷̦̍͊͜h̵̺̤̠̭̏̽͑̈́e̸͖͚͒̓̇r̶̘͓͊́̔͜ ̵̫̰͈̄v̸͍̘̼̿̑̋i̷̮̣̓̓̅c̸͎̺̤͊t̵̢̻͐͆̋́ͅȉ̷̱̱m̸̤̬̤̎̓̔͘ş̶͍̓̚!̷̗̩̂̂͊͋ͅ)

 

She was a strong woman in many ways, but Akumu could tell the second she connected with her that she was going to be easy to trap.

The woman was very easy to manipulate, and in a few short hours Akumu had planted seeds in the short woman’s head just like anyone else.

She whispered sweet nothings into her subject’s mind. Telling her not to worry, that she was in the right, that what she was doing was good. 

She told her to ignore things. Convinced her to say things and make decisions.

 

C̵̟̱͖̓̈́͂̐̕a̶̜̘̋̆u̵̬̚͝g̷͕̟̼̗͓͜͝ḫ̶̳̖̱̠͕̌͆̄t̴̛̳̺̘̤͕̮̎̋͆̌͛̒ ̴̡̮͇̪̂͗͑͑̏̀͝ỉ̴̬̠̫͇̈ͅn̷͍͈̖͉͛̾ ̶͎̣̔̔͑͌͘h̸̝̙̝̱̰̯̿̊͂͝͠ͅĕ̶̢͓̘͇̦͇͓̈̂ŕ̸̩͔̦̉͜͜ͅ ̸͇̩̺̪͔̗͒̂w̶̩͂ë̶̹̫̼̠̜͑͊͜ͅb̶̝̃͊̄͘͝s̸̛̝͔̬̤̾̂̿̐̚.̷͕̉͑.̵͎̩̼͈̩̺̈́́͂̍.̸̠̳̣͙̓̃̋̊͂͘!!

 

It was slow going, but Akumu had always been a patient person.

But she had underestimated how conniving the child was.

She hardly ever underestimated someone.

But she certainly had with this child.

How curious…

Akumu’s pretty green, broken moth had managed to fly off.

And now her pawn was being arrested and sent to a different mental institute. 

Who knew the tables would reverse so ironically?

Akumu would have to change her plans.

She would catch her specimen in her tight web whether he liked it or not.

.

.

.

 

 

H̴̬̜̗̦͇͙̮̹̐͂͂̄̽̈́ė̸͓̺̳͎͉͂͆͊͠l̵̢̨̮̘̓̆́̇̃̾̔ľ̶̡̖̱̥͚̙̿̉͌̏̕͝ ̵̦͍͉̆i̴̛̫̰͚̥̦̾̄̂͑̑̈́̏ş̵̳͎̘̎͗͒̍̇̐ ̷̗͕̱̥̯̝̮̬̑͐̅e̶͇͙͎̲̞̼̋̊̿̈̑̚͘m̴̡͚͐́̂̔̂͒̌͘p̴̧͔̙̈́̎ṫ̴̖̪̫͎̓̊̇̕͝ÿ̵̬͔̳̰́̓.̴̞̜̫̼̘̩͌̋̄̈́͆͊̏͠.̴̡̨̼̖̩̝͕̊̉͜.̸̨̛̻̯̤̮̼͒̈͊̀̅̚͜ ̵̞̿̈́͆̃͑͆ḁ̴̣͕̤̫͔̥̀̅́͑̾l̵̩͕̳͑͐͂͊͘͠l̸̪̘̜̝͆̏͌͘ ̴̠̟̩̟̭͔͓̠͘͝͝͠ẗ̴̡̟̳̪͓͈̳͙́͑̂̿̂̏h̵͍̹̗̩̆e̵̫̓́͑̑̽ ̸̪̼̫̤̖͓̘͂̊͛̈̋d̶̺͔̻̮̩͂̓̄͒͠ẹ̷̡͖͕̣̈́̅̅̉̏̅͝m̵̱͔͓̻̜̻̈́͐͋̉̈̉̅͝o̸̡̢̫̫̫̓͌̚n̴̻̺̱͉͓̖͖͌̒̕͜s̷̰͙̹͙̞͛̍̽ ̴̮͎͐̿́̀͊̚̕͝a̶̬̹̫̱̲̻̭͐̓r̸͍̙̈͋̿͆̈̍͜e̷̡͉̣̟̹̔̉̈̇͗̑̄̏͜͜ ̴̡̟͕̭͉͕̪͊̃͑͝h̶͙̫͎̝͛͛ê̸̹̓̎̿͊̾̉͝r̷͉̭̺̗̻̗̈̃̚e̴͇͓̻̰̣̲̓͝.̴̮̙̱͕̗̬͎͛͑̀͆̀̄̚͜͝