Chapter Text
The world has always had Manifestations. Creatures that look uncannily like the animals that roam the world. They exist only as an extension of their human counterparts. They’re as intelligent as any human, able to speak with them and use technology as easily as their human counterpart could. Although humans had always marveled at their universal culture and language, something only known to the Manifestations, and a rare few humans who were able to wrap it around their heads.
They form around the age of four, some scientists question if they’ve always been a precursor to Quirks, and if they may have some form of connection to the world wide phenomenon.
The emotions one doesn’t wish to feel, the ones one shoves away, good or bad, pool in the hearts of a person's manifestation. Thoughts and feelings that are unwanted by the human, they make up the personality and experience of the Manifestation. Centuries in the past, in Hunter gatherer societies, Manifests were once used as an indication of who needed help, an obvious signal and one that must be heeded, lest the manifest becomes so corrupted by the pain and negativity of their humans repression, that they fall over an invisible and never ending edge. Warping beyond recognition and ending their suffering through ending their oppressor, their human counterpart, and subsequently themselves as well. They destroy everything and anyone that gets in the way of their mission, and that can result in the devastation of cities, even before quirks became a thing and Manifestations gained even more power and more frightening changes.
It was extremely rare, only a few over the course of a century, but the devastation of these events were enough to have the eye of the world. Even rarer still, the chance that someone was able to regain control of their manifest, able to calm their rage before they were killed.
Efforts to keep manifestations from tipping, called for care and better support, for people to embrace their own pain and sadness, and let their Manifestations feel happiness shared to them by their humans. It became a special practice to meditate with your manifestation, to speak to each other and share your emotions equally. Manifestations became perfect reflections in personality to their human and their human became perfect reflections of their Manifest. The healthier the bond, the more equal the field, the more in sync they were. Equals in their entirety.
Such practice became lost decades before the first quirks formed. Buried under misguided human ego, as all deterioration unfurls from.
Since quirks formed though, people began to use someone’s quirk as judgment of character, judgment of soul. Soon it seeped into using one’s Manifest as a judgment of character. The Happier the Manifest, the more vile and disgusting the Human, steeped in their negativity. And the worse the Manifest, clearly, the better and more pure the person, free of disgusting thoughts and feelings.
Manifestation we’re no longer companions who could understand you better than yourself, but filthy, horrible creatures that feed on the pain of the innocent. Leeches of a gross darkness. Anyone with happy or kind Manifestations were treated as no better than villains or villains in the making, some countries jailing people with manifests that express even the slightest joy, for even a small smile.
Cruel training to make angered Manifests more obedient had become common among the monetarily comfortable. Shock collars, cages and chains were a common sight in homes. Those who keep their manifests without these items were seen as reckless, like a pitbull owner who doesn’t use muzzles. Doesn’t matter if it’s the sweetest dog in the world, it had to be caged and muzzled, “it’ll kill someone otherwise!”
Private manifest training academies popped up around the world. Their practices included isolation and sensory deprivation, physical punishments and vitriol. Starvation, beatings, drugging, anything was fair game so long as the Manifest was perfectly obedient in the end. Even the general public thought some academies went too far, but it was seen as an issue between the owner and their manifest, not something for society as a whole to worry about, because it didn’t happen to them, so why should they care?
The world forgot the true meaning of Manifestations. Their true purpose of existence. To reflect yourself and allow yourself the ability to see all of you. To see your own faults, and your own beauty. To be your closest ally, and your most loyal friend. Now, destroying your Manifest, your Mirror, is seen as the pinnacle of perfection. You must destroy yourself, to be accepted by the world.
Where people were cautious of those with manifests on the edge of self destruction, with quirks taking over the majority of the world, their rage and violence was seen as a tragic event, but no different to a villain causing trouble. It’s still a rarity, but what was even rarer, and seen as the absolute pinnacle of purity, the ability to survive your manifest’s destruction. To the world at large, it’s a sign that the person is so pure of heart, that even their worst parts of themselves can’t hurt them.
All Might was used as an example of this. His Lion manifest, with its wild hair, black spit, and white, clear eyes. He is the world's greatest hero and his obedient and broken manifest was evidence of that.
That is the reason one Izuku Midoriya had hope, his Rabbit Manifest stained the grass between them with black, burning gunk, the sizzle of the grass dying was like a scream. He held hope while his Manifest stalked toward his cowering form, pressed against the sharp bark of the tree he and Kacchan marched by while singing his agency’s anthem. Hoped, while his Manifests teeth grew sharp and paws cracked and popped as they elongated into claws, digging into the dirt with new weight. Hoped as the rabbit’s form twisted, limbs elongating, spine moving, becoming an imperfect mimicry of a wolf, arms too thin and neck too long. He hoped as he had to come face to face with a twistedly warped vision of his own childish innocence, an innocence he didn’t protect, because why would he? It’s how he could show he was a hero, a true hero, even without a quirk, this will be his proof that “Yes, I did something most quirk users couldn’t, something even better than their strong quirks.”
He ignored the thought that he was cruel for that. Making whitening eyes narrow and a vicious snarl taking over their face. A spark of fear clawed up the child’s spine. He scurried to the side, trying to get some space and give his manifest more time to calm, instead it set them off on a chase. Like the prey drive of a greyhound, something small and squeaky running is a sure fire way to make them follow with a desperate, manic, energy.
This was not going how he hoped. From all the times he had to run from Kacchan’s rotating group of friends, he should have learnt not to look behind him while running. Izuku fell, tripped right into a log that he skipped over with Kacchan’s crew when he was 5, the one that leads over a dried out creek. The log that should have been the first warning, the first sign that he had set his reflection on a path of self destruction.
Izuku scurries up onto it, his shoes kicking chunks of bark off. The Rabbit coolly hopped up, it’s claws clicked against the bark while Izuku backed up further across the log, trying to set as much distance. Fear sat heavy in his chest, but he wants to be a hero, so he smiled at his manifest. And their steady crawl faltered for barely a split second. The bark peels away, the sheer malice and toxic residue seeping from the poor creature, decaying the air around him, making Izuku choke.
Staring into white eyes, Izuku held hope.
And the rabbit? In rage, he lunged.