𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔯𝔶 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡

    

    

      

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                                      𝐈. 𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔯𝔶 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡

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             words                               732

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#DormLifeWeekend

this moment in the manga

and anime always stuck to

me, how deku ired the

sword in tokoyami’s room, it

was so precious i just had to

write a return to it

art credit . . . official art

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♱

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            Midoriya hesitated in front of the door to Tokoyami’s dorm room, his knuckles hovering just shy of the wood. The distant hum of voices echoed through the boys’ hallway of the U.A. dormitories, a living reminder of the day’s earlier chaos. Midoriya had been swept along with everyone else during the whirlwind dorm tour, noting the contrast of each room’s personality to its owner. Tokoyami’s space had been no different— a sanctuary of gothic stillness, lined with dark hues, brooding decor, and an almost otherworldly sense of restraint.

            But it wasn’t the heavy curtains or the faint scent of incense that had lodged itself in Midoriya’s mind. It was that very cool sword! He just had to see it again!

            A perfectly crafted blade had rested against one corner of the room, its hilt a deep obsidian wrapped with crimson cord. Even through the blur of introductions, Midoriya had recognized it—or thought he had. Now, standing outside Tokoyami’s door, his curiosity was a spark he couldn’t smother.

            Drawing in a steadying breath, he knocked twice. The sound was soft but firm, and he almost jumped when Tokoyami’s voice answered.

            “Enter.”

            Midoriya pushed the door open just enough to step inside. Tokoyami sat cross-legged on his bed, a black leather-bound book resting in his lap. Dark Shadow hovered in the corner like a sentinel, its eyes glowing faintly in the low light.

            “Midoriya.” Tokoyami’s voice was measured, his golden eyes flicking up from his book. “To what do I owe this… return?”

            Midoriya scratched the back of his head, offering a sheepish smile. “Sorry to bother you again, Tokoyami, but… I didn’t really get a chance to look around earlier. I realized something after we left, and I just had to check.”

            Tokoyami arched a feathered brow, gesturing subtly with his hand. “Proceed.”

            Midoriya stepped deeper into the room, his gaze drawn immediately to the sword. He moved toward it with reverence, stopping just short of reaching out. “It is what I thought,” he murmured, eyes wide. “This is a replica of Nightfang, right? From Eclipse Blade: Akuma no Kensei? That old hero anime? I used to watch it all the time as a kid!”

            Tokoyami straightened slightly, a flicker of interest breaking through his usual stoicism. “You recognize it?”

            “Of course!” Midoriya’s excitement bubbled over. “It was one of my favorites! The story of Kuro Akuma, the wandering swordsman who used his cursed blade to fight for justice… I mean, it wasn’t super popular, but it was so cool. This replica—it’s perfect! The craftsmanship is amazing. Even the detailing on the guard matches the original design.”

            For a moment, Tokoyami said nothing. Then, with a quiet sigh that might have been an attempt to mask satisfaction, he closed his book. “Few have appreciated the depth of Eclipse Blade. Most dismiss it as an overly dramatic tale of shadows and despair.”

            Midoriya’s eyes sparkled. “But that’s what made it great! The way Kuro Akuma struggled with the weight of his power—it was inspiring. Kind of like…” He trailed off, glancing at Dark Shadow before continuing carefully. “Kind of like the balance you have to keep with your Quirk! In a way…”

            The room fell silent, save for the faint rustle of curtains in the evening breeze. Tokoyami’s expression softened imperceptibly, though his tone remained cool. “You speak with unexpected insight, Midoriya.”

            Midoriya beamed. “Sorry, I get carried away sometimes. But this is amazing, Tokoyami. Can I… can I stay a little longer? I’d love to hear how you got this.”

            Tokoyami regarded him for a long moment before nodding once, almost imperceptibly. “Very well. But do not touch the blade.”

            Midoriya grinned, sinking onto the floor with a respectful distance from the sword. “Deal.”

            As the evening wore on, the two boys spoke in quiet tones, their words weaving between heroism, swords, and shared iration for the strange beauty of shadows. Tokoyami’s responses grew less curt, and Dark Shadow occasionally chimed in with its own commentary, adding a touch of humor to the conversation. By the time Midoriya left, Tokoyami found himself begrudgingly looking forward to their next encounter, though he would never it it aloud.

            In the solitude of his room, Tokoyami glanced at the replica sword, its polished surface catching the faintest glimmer of moonlight. A small smile curved his beak as he opened his book once more, the shadows in his room feeling just a little less lonely.