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When Fumikage woke, it was not to sunlight or the sound of an alarm in his ear, but instead to darkness, and his quirk repeatedly tapping him on the forehead. Fumikage raised his hand and shoved Dark Shadow away. He then rolled over, and tried to fall back asleep. His attempt was in vain, however, as Dark Shadow continued the motion, harder this time. His quirk’s persistence got to him after a few minutes.
Fumikage groaned and turned back over, shoving his quirk away once more, and muttering “I get it. I get it. I’m up. I’m up.” Dark Shadow seemed pleased at that, and retreated back inside Fumikage. He pulled his weighted blanket off himself and shoved them to the end of the bed, before sliding his feet back onto the floor. He reached to his bedside table and pulled on a cord on his lamp. The light flickered on, and Fumikage winced and rubbed his eyes. Inside of him, he could feel Dark Shadow recoil slightly.
Once there was light, he glanced around his room for a second. Everything was as it had been before he fell asleep. Dark curtains covered his window. Several skulls lay on top of a cloth on his dresser. A few posters were plastered to his walls, each depicting some kind of band. His guitar case leant against his wardrobe, gathering a small layer of dust. A few small toys, tangles, clickers, and other fidgets lay on his desk next to his computer. If anyone saw them, he insisted that they were for Dark Shadow. But frankly, Fumikage just liked to have something to do with his hands.
Fumikage stood, and slipped on a pair of fuzzy slippers next to his bed. He walked to his desk, and picked up the hoodie hanging on the chair, pulling it over his head and feeling a lot more comfortable. He picked up a purple tangle and slid it into his pocket. He then pulled the hood up, enjoying the softness of the fabric. One of his hands fiddled with a ragged sleeve of the blanket, pressing his fingertips over the same worn patch of material in a repetitive motion.
He walked to his door and opened it, leaving his relatively dark room into a much brighter house. He pulled the door mostly closed, but left it slightly ajar simply through routine. The hall was well lit, large windows facing him, and the walls were a bright white, but he knew already that the house would already be empty. He walked through the hall, barely glancing at the photos lining the wall, and stepped into his kitchen.
He walked over to the stove and picked up the kettle resting upon it. It was heavy with water, so Fumikage put it back down, and turned the stove on. He moved soundlessly to a rack covered in mugs and picked the only black one among the sea of white porcelain. He placed it on the counter and opened a glass jar, pulling out a tea bag and placing it inside of the mug. He then reached into a drawer, pulling out a teaspoon. He closed the drawer and grabbed another jar, opening it and spooning a few too many servings of sugar into the mug. He left the spoon in the mug, and closed the jar, placing it back on the bench.
He glanced at the kettle. A small amount of steam had started appearing from the spout, but not enough for the water to have boiled yet. He sighed and walked to the fruit bowl on the table, plucking out an apple and taking a bite out of it. He swallowed and continued eating. He glanced at the clock. He had always had difficulty with analog clocks, but with a few seconds of staring he deduced that it was somewhere between 8 and 8:05. He took a final bite of the apple as he heard a whistle go off behind him.
He walked to the trash can and tossed the apple core inside, before walking to the stove and turning it off. He picked up the kettle and poured water into his mug, before placing the kettle back onto the stove. He picked up the mug and stirred it for a few minutes, watching the water darken and a few of the granules of sugar disappear. However, at the bottom, there was a thick sludge of sugar that could never dissolve. He walked to the trash can and used the spoon to pull the tea bag out of the water, and to drop it into the trash.
He put his spoon back into his mug, and walked out of the kitchen, back to the hall. He took a sip of the tea and let out a small sigh, a light smile gracing his face at the sweetness, followed immediately by pain as he burnt his tongue and the roof of his mouth with the water. When he got to his door, he nudged it open with his shoulder, and headed inside. He placed his mug on the desk and sat at his chair. He opened his laptop, and picked up the headphones plugged in to it. He put the headphones on and opened a music app. He pressed play, and the sound of guitars and screaming male voices filled his ears.
He spent a few minutes scrolling through social media. Nothing of note seemed to have happened while he was asleep, although Bakugou had posted a selfie holding a box and grinning wide. He was too tired to actually read what was in the box, so he closed the tab and checked the news. He tried not to frown at a few of the headlines, but started scrolling through one anyway. Another Villain, another victim, another death. He picked up his mug and sipped his tea as he continued browsing through, trying not to think about what the state of the world would be once he graduated.