1 The Abuse
My name was Aritomo Ryusaki and it all started on my 6th birthday. My mom and I were having fun playing with the meager toys she could afford to buy for me. It wasn't much but I didn't care. Mother had just lit the cake when all of a sudden, The monster stumbled into the room smelling really bad.
Knowing what was about to happen, I ran over to stand in-between mom and the thing that wears the skin of my father. Before I could get further than the end of the table, the monster threw me into the air and through the dilapidated wall of the kitchen into the living room. Sitting among the remains of the wall bleeding and fading in and out of consciousness, I stare at him as he starts hitting my mom. As she screams I felt something building up in my throat.
Not knowing what to do I ran straight at him as he used his quirk to toss her into the ceiling. closing my eyes I released the energy that was building up in my throat it manifested in the form of a wave of razor wind that tore the monster and my mother to pieces.
----------------------------- 3 years later---------
After the brutal deaths of my parents I was left on the streets. Even though i was a little kid I knew what i had done was wrong. I tried my best to evade the police so I couldn't get into trouble. Looking back maybe I could've had a normal life. but all hope of that shattered the day HE found me.
It was a relatively normal day on the streets begging and stealing all day until this man wearing a mask over his face. A kid a little older than me following behind him, stopped me and asked if I was all alone on the streets. I answered honestly and he offered me his hand. Being the little kid I was I grabbed on and didn't let go until we got to his house. If you could even call it that, it was more of a lair.
There I was trained for 6 years in the art of spycraft and surveillance. while shigaraki trained to better his reflexes. With my quirks disguise and air manipulation it was easy to learn, Brainwashed into hating the heroes for chasing fame, instead of protecting people. I was happy to comply. After all what kind of person doesn't repay their savior? What kind of son doesn't obey their father?
On our last day of training father gave tomura and me gifts, his was all of these hands they were to remind him of his family. For me he took out two scarlet ribbons, and told me to tie them to my arms to remind myself of my parents. Instead of reminding us of what we lost, it reminded us of what we gained a father who loved us. Looking at each other we made a pact. If I died he'd add my hands to his collection, and if he died I'd add a ribbon to mine.
