o how the sun shines down

by rosegoldblood

Summary:

Himiko didn't expect to wake up after giving up her blood to the girl she loves, but when she does, Ochako isn't there waiting for her. With only a few days left until her trial, Himiko lets herself wonder what it means to be normal. How do you miss a life you never had? How do you mourn a person you pierced with your own blade?

Notes:

read my carrd for my socials and info about me.

Chapter 1: you're still right here

Summary:

Himiko wakes up, which in itself surprises her.

Notes:

i know everyone's imagining ochako waking up without himiko, so i wanted to go in the opposite direction. himiko is a difficult character to write, so i hope she's in-character. i'll try to get the next chapter up soon... hopefully.

please note that at the time of writing this, chapter 403 just released, so there might be future inaccuracies. the title of this fic as well as the chapter titles are taken from richard siken's poem, "you are jeff".

When Himiko woke up, the first thing she saw was piercing, fluorescent lights.

 

She hated those. They reminded her of perfect, clean spaces, meticulously organized clinics and therapist offices. Scrubbed to shine, plain and white, the very picture of normal. Maybe that was why Himiko never felt right there, like every inch of her was taking up too much space. Maybe that was what it meant to be a freak.

 

Every muscle in her back tensed up, straining to get up and shatter those flickering lights to pieces. Yet as soon as she tried to sit up, her body seemed to give up on her, weighed down by exhaustion and the stiff feeling of tubes poking out of her skin.

 

The feeling made everything sharpen into view for Himiko. An IV drip standing beside her bed, the beeping of a heart rate monitor. She was wearing a blue hospital gown, such an ugly sheet of fabric it didn’t deserve to be called clothing, and under that her body had been wrapped up in bandages like a mummy.

 

Despite all that, though, Himiko could feel it: blood. Running through her veins, underneath her skin. When she glanced up at the drip again, she noticed a bag full of crimson red, attached to her left arm.  

 

Slowly, it came back to her. The pain of losing Jin for good, the furious pounding of her heart at the sight of all those heroes, those so-called protectors of society, who thought they knew what was best for her. Who wanted to trap her in a cage and be done with it.

 

All except one.

 

Ochako. Himiko had given blood for the first time in her life for Ochako-chan and her sweet words, for her gentle touch and the way she’d looked at Himiko. Those eyes, filled not with disgust or fear or even pity.

 

Just… love. It had been like seeing herself reflected back, wild and bloody and desperate to feel.

 

She'd wanted to make a world easier to live in. Maybe she had failed, but she knew down to the very bone that Ochako wouldn’t. Even if it took her years, decades even, there was no way she could fail. Not when she’d already done the impossible by loving a monster.

 

That was why Himiko had been okay with it: closing her eyes for the last time, falling asleep to never wake up again. The feeling of Ochako against her side, breathing ragged but alive , had been as comforting as any light at the end of the tunnel could be. Warm and bright and constant, like a gentle hand waiting for her on the other side.

 

But there had been no other side. Just the cold, unfeeling white walls of this stupid, ugly room.

 

When the door across form her bed creaked open, Himiko curled up and hoped it was Ochako. Unfortunately, she wasn’t so lucky, because the person who entered was a tall man in a doctor’s coat and a clipboard in his hands. 

 

The only thing keeping Himiko from groaning was the soreness in her throat. Great, just what she needed—another “professional” who thought he knew what he was talking about.

 

“First of all,” the doctor started, voice gruff, “there are licensed heroes outside, so I advise you not to try anything.”

 

With her muscles feeling like cardboard, Himiko thought she couldn’t even if she wanted to. All she did was stare, hoping her eyes conveyed everything she was thinking since her tongue still felt too heavy for her mouth. Satisfied with her apparent docility, the doctor mustered enough bravery to step forward.

 

“Your blood type, A positive, is fairly common, so we were able to get you replenished quickly enough. You can count yourself lucky,” he explained. Himiko wondered if that was true; after all, wasn’t she going to be thrown into prison after this? Locked up like a bird in a cage and left alone for the rest of her life? Was coming back to a life like that so lucky?

 

Her fingers curled into the blanket covering her legs. Maybe Ochako wouldn’t allow that to happen, but she had her own life to live.

 

When Himiko didn’t respond, the doctor kept talking. A lot of white noise about vitals and wounds, and somewhere along the line he introduced himself, but Himiko didn’t care to remember his name. 

 

All she could think about was Ochako. Was she here? Had she come back for Himiko? When she walked through that door, tired but alive, what would she say? 

 

Himiko knew what she would say. Thank you, Ochako-chan. Even if we aren’t forever, that moment meant a lifetime to me. One time Jin spoke about parallel universes, and Himiko had wondered whether there was a world that had accepted her from the start. When Ochako had touched her face so gently, it felt like she was peering into that different life, like her touch had contained that piece of cosmos.

 

It was already too late when Himiko realised she had begun crying again. The tears dripped down her face and onto the blanket, making dark spots where they landed. This pain, this ache in her heart, wasn’t new. She’d longed for people she couldn’t have a thousand times before.

 

Yet somehow this time it was different.

 

“I understand this must be a lot for you,” the doctor said, voice so close to sympathetic. “If you have any questions, I’ll answer to the best of my ability. Though they haven’t told me much either.”

 

For the first time since she woke up, Himiko forced herself to talk, even if every word felt like a knife being scraped against the inside of her throat. 

 

“Where…” she murmured hoarsely, “is Ochako-chan?”

 

Raised eyebrows. A frown beginning to pull at his lips. “I’m sorry, who?”

 

“Ochako… Uraraka. The hero Uravity.” Her voice was nearly a croak with how rough it was. “I want to talk to her. Please. Where is she?”

 

“Uraraka Ochako,” the doctor repeated, as if testing the name out would help him remember. Apparently, it did, because his eyes widened in realisation as he scribbled something down on his clipboard. “Yes, she did mention you when we brought her in. Insisted that you be treated like a civilian.”

 

By the tone of his voice, he didn’t like that very much. Himiko, though, felt her heart skip a beat, the monitor beside her beeping erratically. That was just like Ochako, so selfless even as she was hurting.

 

“So where is she?” Himiko leaned forward, the pounding in her head growing more incessant, pain rippling through her forehead at the strain of movement. Still she pushed it aside, because her heart pounded just as excitedly at the thought of seeing those round eyes and kind smile again. 

 

The doctor coughed. His discomfort showed clearly on his face, despite doing such a good job at staying relatively calm up until now. “I’m afraid she can’t,” he said, and this time he actually sounded sad. Sympathy for heroes, none for villains. Just typical. “She’s still… under care.”

 

“But she’s okay, right? When can I talk to her?” A bad, nauseating feeling started to dig itself deep in Himiko’s chest, but she tried her best to ignore it. Of course Ochako was okay. Himiko had given everything to make sure of it. 

 

“She’s alive,” he said, but the grim look on his face didn’t exactly assuage her. “And we’re working on getting her stable, but she’s lost a lot of blood and sustained a large number of serious injuries.”

 

Tears came to Himiko’s eyes before she could say anything. Her head pounded even more, the agonizing pain like the beat of a drum against her temple. It hadn’t been enough. After everything, she hadn’t been enough.

 

“Let me see her.” The desperation in her stomach crested like a wave, driving her to scramble forward. Her legs collapsed as soon as she left the bed, but she forced herself back up. She had to see Ochako, now , before anything happened. So Himiko could be by her side just in case the worst came true. So she could say sorry for being the one to live. “Please, I won’t do anything, I just have to—”

 

“You must not, Toga-san,” the doctor rebuked, pushing her gently back onto the bed with minimal effort. Himiko looked in surprise at the sound of her name, being addressed so formally. Like she was just any other patient. Even he looked shocked with himself, too. “I assure you, they’re taking care of her. No one is allowed in until she’s stable.”

 

His voice was kept neutral, but the message behind it was clear: it’s not because you’re a villain. 

 

Himiko closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Thinking about other people, their expectations , before doing what she wanted… it wasn’t something she did often. But now she thought of Ochako, and her request to the hospital: to treat Himiko Toga like a human being, like a normal girl. Even if she knew it might be the last thing she ever said.

 

If she caused trouble now, it would all be for nothing. Himiko didn’t care what all the doctors and nurses and security guards thought of her, but if Ochako was going to try so hard for her, then Himiko had no choice but to do the same.

 

“Just tell me,” Himiko forced out, the words feeling like acid burning up her mouth. “If something happens… tell me, okay?”

 

Her voice was broken and pathetic, but it wasn’t a request; it was a demand. The doctor seemed to recognise this, too, because he nodded and scribbled down something on his clipboard. He cleared his throat and this time, when he made eye contact with Himiko, he almost looked like he was seeing her as a person.

 

“There’ll be nurses coming by soon to check your vitals. And I’ll make sure to have you notified if Uraraka-san’s state becomes worrying. After that, what happens to you is… out of my hands.”

 

Which meant, cuffed and locked up forever, most likely. Himiko bit the inside of her cheek so hard it bled. What a worthless life to live. But maybe she’d try to stick it out if Ochako kept her promise.

 

When she looked up again, the doctor was gone. Himiko was left alone with nothing but her own thoughts and the steady beeping of her own heartbeat on the monitor. Her eyes stung as she stared at the plain white ceiling, blurred and grainy through the hot tears. 

 

“It’s not fair,” she croaked to herself, to whatever being up there was listening. “It’s not fair… at all.”

 

She couldn’t think about Ochako. Couldn’t entertain the thought of her laying in bed, breathing ragged, time running out, all because of Himiko. How could someone be like that, placing such faith in their killer to the very end? Someone like that, so selfless, could only be someone who loved just like Himiko did.

 

But she wasn’t going to think about it.

 

Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to keep herself from jumping out of bed, running out that door, and going to wherever Ochako was. When the nurses came in and stuck needles up her arms and pressed cold metal tools against her skin, Himiko welcomed the incessant voices and unpleasant sensations.

 

Anything to stop Himiko from dwelling on the image in her head of the last smile Ochako ever gave her.

 

---

 

They had put her to sleep again. 

 

She didn’t remember falling asleep, only remembered waking up, mouth full of saliva and mind full of haze. This felt more like a regular nap, rather than the blackout she’d been in when her body had given out from blood loss. 

 

The feeling reminded her of the slow days with the League of Villains, lazing around while they waited for the perfect time to carry out their plans. Falling asleep with Jin on their ratty old couch and waking up to the low rumble of his snoring. Blinking the tiredness out of her eyes as the light of the setting sun shone through the blinds.

 

Dull pain struck through her heart. Jin was gone, that place was gone, the League was gone. That would never happen again.

 

Nothing in the room had changed, but they’d taken off the IV drip and the monitor had been detached from her. When Himiko stumbled out of bed, her legs felt weak but held her up like they were supposed to.

 

Before she could stagger out of the door like a newborn deer, it creaked open on its own. A frail-looking nurse, smaller than even Himiko, peeked in. She looked nervous. Maybe it was her first day on the job. Maybe she’d never been this close to a villain.

 

She had a rather cute face, eyebrows pinched together like that, her dainty nose scrunched up in fear. It reminds Himiko a little of Ochako’s cute eyebrows, the way they furrowed when she was angry. Her heart ached again—or maybe it had never stopped. 

 

“Toga-san?” When Himiko turned to look at her, she nearly curled into herself. “You, um, I was told to call for you. It’s related to one of our patients.”

 

In a heartbeat Himiko had already crossed the room. Without thinking she leaned in, grabbing the nurse’s wrist in her hand. “Ochako-chan?” She said, surprised at how desperate her voice came out. “Uraraka Ochako… is it her? What happened to her?!”

 

The nurse was so scared she was nearly whimpering, trembling in Himiko’s grip. She should have backed off, but the thought of Ochako getting worse, the colour running out of her face scared her. What if she was already laying there dead, a corpse who’d never know how grateful Himiko was—

 

“Yes! It’s related to Uraraka-san! But the person who called for you is a pro-hero student. We’re still trying to help the patient, so please don’t interfere just yet!”

 

It seemed it took all of her bravery to get those words out, because after that she was back to quivering. If it was another pro-hero student… either they wanted to ship Himiko off to prison, or they wanted to talk to her about Ochako. Those were the only things she could think of, anyway.

 

“Who is it?” Himiko asked lowly. “The student.”

 

“Oh, uh, what was his name again? Um, Deku! Yes, that’s right. Midoriya Izuku. So many wounds. Poor boy. They healed rather quickly, though.” The nurse jolted herself out of her pondering. “Uh, not that it matters! So, please, follow me!”

 

For a moment, Himiko had half a mind to dig her fangs into the nurse’s wrist and drink her blood. Sneaking into Ochako’s room, when she could find it, would be a simple matter of strolling in. She bet it would be easy. She bet it would taste sweet, too. But then she thought about Ochako’s utter faith in her, and the horrified look on Izuku-kun’s face when he’d seen her. Why ever would he want to see her now?

 

Curiousity took precedence. “Alright,” Himiko huffed, restlessness already building in her legs. “Let’s go.”

 

“Okay,” stuttered out the poor nurse, before bringing Himiko’s wrists together and slapping on a pair of cuffs; probably quirk-cancelling. Annoying, but Himiko didn’t care all that much. Too late for subterfuge, she supposed. “I’m sorry! Please follow me.”

 

Feeling like a sad, lost puppy, Himiko trailed after the nurse as she walked. Everywhere she could feel eyes on her. The fear, the nervous breaths as she passed, that she didn’t mind. She’d been dealing with that her whole life. But the worst was the pity. Poor girl, poor villain. Such a shame she was born the way she was.

 

There was nothing wrong with the way she was born. It was everyone else that had a problem with her.

 

Soon, they stopped in front of a door. No special signs, no fancy technology, just another nondescript hospital room. Himiko wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. Didn’t a hero like Izuku Midoriya deserve special treatment, or something?

 

After knocking on it a few times, the nurse gently opened the door. Himiko peeked in and saw that familiar head of green hair, singed and chopped up but still as messy as ever. “Just let her in,” she heard him say, voice hoarse, “it’s fine.”

 

“If you’re sure, Midoriya-san!” The nurse said, before bowing to him and scuttling away. Himiko stepped in herself, feeling like she’d gone from one prison to another.

 

This room was near identical to Himiko’s. Same size, as far as she could tell. Same stiff sheets, same shiny metal devices set up near the bed, same ugly white fluorescent lights. The difference lay in the dozens upon dozens of gifts that covered the walls, corner to corner.

 

Izuku looked so young like this, wrapped up in bandages and sitting placidly in bed. There was none of that rage or desperation in his eyes. He didn’t look upset at the sight of Himiko, either.

 

“You’re lucky.” His voice sounded rough, like it hurt to speak. Maybe it did, because he coughed loudly, thumping at his chest. “I managed to wrangle Kacchan out before you arrived.”

 

“Oh,” was all Himiko could bring herself to say. She was pretty sure Kacchan was that angry blond with the explosion quirk, always by Izuku’s side. He looked a lot cuter when he wasn’t screaming, though.

 

“He shouldn’t be out anyway… he’s not in a really good state himself… but, ah! I’m getting off-topic, sorry.” Izuku gave a sheepish laugh. “How are you feeling, Toga-san?”

 

Like complete shit, was the honest answer. Physically, she felt fine. Really, she’d been through worse. Yet there was a pain in her heart that wouldn’t stop, and this time she couldn’t run away, because everything she loved was right here. 

 

“Where’s Ochako-chan?” She asked in lieu of an answer, because really it was a stupid question anyway. Izuku probably knew that. 

 

“Right. Of course you’re wondering about her. I don’t blame you.” With shaky legs, Izuku stumbled out of bed. He held onto his IV drip for support, and Himiko stared at the patchwork of bandages and scars all over his body. 

 

Tomura had really done a number on him. The thought of her leader made Himiko long to see him again. Even if they were never particularly close, he was still family. She would miss that stringy white hair and those callused hands: so capable of destruction, but careful when it came to her. To all of the League, really.

 

The wounds he’d given Izuku must have been painful, but Himiko couldn’t bring herself to be upset or remorseful at all. Did that make her a bad person, a villain? Tomura’d had his own ideals and beliefs. He’d fought for them just like anyone else. Wasn’t that normal?

 

“I know where her room is. Let’s go there.” Izuku kicked open the door himself. At the surprised look on Himiko’s face, he laughed. “It’s okay. They’re not going to tell me to go away.”

 

What a classic case of abuse of power by a so-called pure hero. Still, Himiko couldn’t help but smile.

 

“Lead the way, Izuku-kun,” Himiko said in reply. He didn’t flinch when she said his name. For a while they walked down the hallway, walking past nurses and doctors who looked like they wanted to stop them, but couldn’t. It was hilarious, and she gave a genuine laugh for the first time since she’d woken up. 

 

“First, you should know that… the rest of the League. They’re okay. I can’t tell you all the details right now, but they’re alive.” 

 

Himiko nearly tripped over her own feet. They were… okay. Maybe they’d never see each other again, the League of Villains dissolved forever, but somehow the knowledge that they were out there somewhere was enough for her. 

 

She longed to go back to what they once were, creating the world they wanted. Together. That was all over now, but maybe that world wasn’t as out of reach as they’d thought. After all, if people like Ochako Uraraka could exist, then maybe this world wasn’t so done for just yet.

 

Hopefully they knew that. The thought of Dabi seething at his old man in some jail cell forever made Himiko giggle to herself, though.

 

“As for Uraraka-san,” he continued, and the formality of the address made Himiko stop for a moment. With how Ochako acted about Izuku, she’d thought they would’ve progressed further than -san, at the very least. When she thought back to all the other times she’d seen either of the two, it occurred to Himiko that it had always been that way. Always so distant. Were they like this alone, too?

 

The thought made her curious. For all the prying she’d done into them, she really didn’t know what their relationship was actually like. 

 

“I got to talk to her before they admitted her,” he said. “I wasn’t in the best condition either, but I think she had something she wanted to say.”

 

Trying so hard for a friend who he didn’t even refer to by first name—now that was picture-perfect heroism, alright. 

 

“She kept talking about you, didn’t want you to be treated badly. Said that you deserved proper treatment, just like any other person.” This wasn’t news to Himiko, but hearing it said out loud from another witness made her warm all over again. When she smiled, Izuku smiled too. “Uraraka-san has always been that type of person, right? She’s seriously one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”

 

Kind enough to show mercy to someone like me, Himiko thought. “Yeah,” was all she said.

 

Izuku heaved a sigh, followed by a coughing fit. When his hand drew away from his mouth, there was no blood, so it couldn’t have been that serious. “Toga-san,” he said, voice hoarse, “I… I’m sorry. What you did was wrong, and you need to atone, but I shouldn’t have dismissed your idea of love so quickly. Especially since I—I also know what it’s like to want to… be more like the person you love. I just didn’t realise it back then.”

 

Somehow, Himiko had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t talking about Ochako. She didn’t comment on it, instead reaching forward to pinch his cheek. He flinched, but didn’t jerk away. “So now you get me, Izuku-kun,” she said affectionately. “Don’t worry, I forgive you.”

 

“Oh… well, thanks.” He coughed awkwardly. “Well, about Uraraka-san… she’s, um—”

 

“Toga Himiko? There you are. The doctor told me to call for you,” a different voice, a different nurse, called from far away. A panicked look appeared in Izuku’s eyes as he turned to Himiko.

 

“It was you who saved her, you know?” He said, almost frantic. “When you gave her your blood, it saved her. She wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. You should know that.”

 

The nurse walked closer. Himiko looked between the two. She would wonder why Izuku seemed so frazzled, but the heavy feeling in her chest seemed to already have a feeling. “What happened to her, Izuku-kun,” she asked, throat tight like there was something constricting around her neck. 

 

“You did the right thing.” Izuku was being sincere—when was he ever not?—but the urgency in his voice scared Himiko. “Deep down, Uraraka-san really, truly believed that you were a good person. I can tell.”

 

“What happened?” She repeated.

 

Izuku didn’t get the chance to reply, though Himiko doubted he would have even if they had been left alone. As it were, she would never know for certain, because right then the nurse walked up to them and deigned to answer her question.

 

“Midoriya-san, I told you to stay in your room. I understand that you…” She sighed, glancing back and forth between the two. This one seemed considerably braver than the one before, as she cleared her throat. “Well, never mind that. We’ve completed the tests on Uraraka-san. She’s stable for now.”

 

Somehow, that didn’t sound like good news to Himiko. The nurse’s voice carried a foreboding tone to it, the words for now hanging eerily onto the end of the sentence as if that might change. Izuku didn’t say anything. All he did was turn away, the wheels of his IV drip squeaking, his hand clenching at the rod so hard it was probably going to bend in half.

 

His pained expression, the urgent words, that melancholic pity written all over the nurse’s face. Himiko had seen it a hundred times before, in clinics, in offices, the faces of people waiting to tell her that her life was unsalvageable, too beyond repair. 

 

When she picked up her knife for the first time, Himiko swore she wouldn’t let anyone look at her like that ever again.

 

“Uraraka-san suffered from a great amount of blood loss and sustained damage to her vital organs.” While her voice wasn’t accusatory, the way her gaze landed on Himiko certainly felt that way. “As I said, she’s currently stable, but she won’t respond to any stimuli and hasn’t regained consciousness for over twenty-four hours. Simply put…”

 

Himiko’s chest felt tight. She looked to Izuku, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. All your fault, a voice in her head whispered.

 

“She’s in a coma. And we don’t know when she’ll come out of it… if at all.”

Chapter 2: ii. look at the lights

Summary:

Himiko is paid a visit by a familiar face.

Notes:

sorry i took so long with this chapter. it's partly because i fell sick, and partly because i'm such a slow ass writer. please be patient with me! i'm determined to finish this fic no matter how long it takes.

Two days after waking up, Toga Himiko was discharged from the hospital. 

 

A pretty short amount of time for someone who was apparently so near death. Still, the doctors insisted that she was strong enough to be let go. Himiko suspected they were getting perturbed by the thought of a villain staying so long in their precious, sterile rooms.

 

That was the reality of it, though, and so in accordance to their orders Himiko was kicked out of the frying pan and into the fire. They were keeping her in containment for now, and told her that she’d have a trial in a few days.

 

If Ochako were there, Himiko could almost picture her pleading with the judges and the court. Promising from the depths of her heart that Himiko could be a good person, that it wasn’t too late for her just yet. 

 

Himiko wasn’t even sure of that herself. But somehow, Ochako was.

 

The ability to see the good in people, that unyielding faith… sometimes Himiko was jealous of it. She wanted to see the world like that too, instead of knowing anyone that she met would turn and push her away. Even the people she loved. Especially the people she loved.

 

She’d lived that way for so long. It was never enough, though. Sure, it had been fun; some real good times she’d had as the villain Toga Himiko, spilling blood whenever she wanted. But she’d always just been running away, like a coward, from that normal house and their white walls full of pain.

 

All she did to be free. Was it all for nothing in the end?

With a huff, Himiko kicked her feet against the wall. The room they’d put her in wasn’t so bad, all things considered. Better than a jail cell, as far as she could tell from her limited experience. She’d never been caught before, of course—what kind of loser would get caught with a disguise quirk?—but Jin had been once, and had told her all about it.

 

This place, though, had a bed and a shelf. Against the wall was a desk and a rather comfortable chair, and even a window —locked shut but not barred. 

 

If she really wanted to, she could probably escape from this place. But running away wouldn’t truly be freedom, would it. Not without Ochako. When she’d brushed her hands against Himiko’s face, so gently like she was cradling something beautiful and fragile, now that had felt like liberation.

 

After all that, she couldn’t imagine wasting away in some cell forever. She didn’t want to. She wanted to live with Ochako, be the girl Ochako had seen in her, young and beautiful.

 

But she didn’t even know how to start.

 

Before she could even begin to think about what to do, there was a knock at the door. Through the slivers in between the barred window, she caught a flash of green and wondered whether Izuku had come once again. Perhaps to sympathise with her. Perhaps to talk about Ochako’s condition and how much it was Himiko’s fault, as if she didn’t already know. 

 

When the door was unlocked and pulled open with a heavy grinding sound, though, it wasn’t those familiar freckles or shaggy hair Himiko was met with. Instead there was smooth, darker green hair, a shorter frame, and wide round eyes.

 

“Tsu-chan?” Himiko said, hopping off her uncomfortable bed to face the girl. She was back in her student uniform, arms and neck bandaged but looking no worse for wear. At least, not as bad as Ochako or Izuku. “To what do I owe this pleasure! I would give you a warm welcome, but…”

 

She held out her hands, bound together by cuffs. They had even put thick gloves on her, like even her fingernails were a threat—which wasn’t a completely unfounded worry, if Himiko was being honest. 

 

“Yes, well, you did stab a lot of people,” Tsuyu said as she closed the door behind her. It wasn’t a snark or even a reprimand; her voice made it clear that it was simply a statement to her. “How are you feeling, Himiko-chan?”

 

“Me? Why, I’m doing great,” she chirped. Something in her trilled at the affectionate form of address. “ So damn bored, though.”

 

In response, Tsuyu simply nodded. She turned to look out the window, and the silence dragged on and on. Why was she here? To vent out her anger at Himiko, the villain who’d hurt so many of her comrades, and her best friend? Her face didn’t betray any anger, but looks could be deceiving when it came to heroes.

 

If that was her intention, Himiko understood it. How cruel for her beloved friend, such a caring and talented hero student, to die saving a villain, when she could’ve killed her and be done with it.

 

When Himiko closed her eyes, she recalled the sound of Tsuyu’s voice ringing out that day. Pleading with her to listen to Ochako. Back then, she’d sounded like she was willing to give Himiko a chance… though Himiko wouldn’t be surprised if she’d changed her tune.

 

“I don’t know everything that happened between you and Ochako-chan that day,” Tsuyu finally said, and Himiko waited for the other shoe to drop, for those steady shoulders to tense up. But it never happened. “But I do know you tried to save her.”

 

“She… told you that?” Himiko’s voice came out a lot quieter than she intended, and she almost hated how weak she sounded.

 

“No. The doctors did. They told me that the wound was too serious for her to survive for so long, unless she got a blood transfusion and some stitches. Which you did quite well, for someone under pressure.” 

 

Tsuyu gave her a smile. It was cute, the curve of her lips and the scrunch of her nose. Himiko had seen that expression before, but she never would have thought in a million years that it would someday be directed at her. 

 

“You saved her.”

 

That made the second time Himiko was hearing those words, but they didn’t sound any less wrong. She still remembered it, her fingers drenched in beautiful red as she’d stitched Ochako’s stomach up. It didn’t feel like altruism. It didn’t feel like being a hero.

 

All she had been doing was fixing her own mistakes. Because she couldn’t stand to run away anymore. Because she couldn’t imagine a world without Ochako in it.

 

And it still hadn’t been enough.

 

“Ochako-chan… she didn’t care about the divide between us. Hero and villain. Good and bad. She just wanted to help someone who was hurting.” Before Himiko knew it, there was that stinging feeling in her eyes again. “I was fine with dying there. I lived freely, just like I’d wanted for so long. I was okay with it. So why?”

 

She rubbed her tears away before turning to look at Tsuyu, but Himiko was sure it didn’t make a difference. Her eyes shined just the same. “Why am I the one who woke up?”

 

Sadness broke through the calmness of Tsuyu’s expression. There was pity in her eyes, in the corners of her frown, and Himiko hated it. She wanted Tsuyu to stop looking at her like that, but her hands were still bound up, so instead she turned away. It didn’t help—she could still feel Tsuyu’s gaze burning into the back of her neck.

 

“You can’t talk like that.” Tsuyu’s voice was soft but stern when she next spoke, making Himiko tense up for a moment. “Ochako-chan is still alive. And she’s fighting to live…to get back to us… to get back to you. There’s still time.”

 

Everything else seemed like meaningless sweet-talk, except for that last bit. Himiko bit into it like it was flesh. “Time for what?” Himiko questioned, and her heart skipped a beat when Tsuyu cringed, as if she’d said something wrong. As if she’d revealed something she wasn’t supposed to. 

 

Tsuyu exhaled. “I’ll be honest with you. I’m not supposed to say this, but… it’s only fair that you know.” It was impossible to miss the bitterness laying underneath her voice, that simmering anger at the mysterious nature of authority figures. Now that’s something Himiko can understand. “Your trial is set to be in ten days."

 

“My… trial.”

 

“Yes, your trial as a villain. If you want my honest opinion, they’ll probably try to prosecute you for whatever they can. Even if you’re a minor, their view of you is already in bad faith. Well, you do deserve punishment. But they’ll be especially harsh.”

 

Himiko couldn’t help but laugh. “You sure don’t sugarcoat anything, Tsu-chan.”

 

Apparently, Tsuyu didn’t find it so funny—though it was hard to tell by the way she simply tilted her head. “Of course. You want the truth, don’t you?” 

 

“I sure do. You know me so well.” Himiko looked down at her feet, surprised they weren’t chained up like her hands, in contemplation. If Ochako woke up before then, she’d try her best to help… but what if she didn’t? The one hero who ever saw past her, who had faith in her. What would she do without Ochako at her side? 

 

Trying to ignore the sour taste in her mouth, Himiko stared at the ceiling. Maybe Tsuyu was right. Maybe there was no use being so pessimistic about it. Ochako was the strongest girl Himiko had ever met—of course she would live. It would take more than a knife to take her down, right? 

 

“So what am I supposed to do until then?” Himiko asked, trying to keep her mind away from the thought of standing in a court too big for a million people, all alone at a single podium. “Just lay around?”

 

“Usually you’d have a physical checkup, but I suppose they already did that at the hospital, so they might just take your information from there.” Tsuyu tapped her chin with her finger in that peculiar way she did, and Himiko couldn’t help but think about how cute it was. It reminded her of the way Ochako would play with her hair—how Himiko had always longed to run her hands through that brown hair herself. 

 

You’ll still get to, she tried to tell herself. 

 

“Mmhmm,” Himiko hummed. The checkup stuff wasn’t very important information to her, but it was a small relief that she wouldn’t have to be gawked at again like a zoo animal. 

 

A croaking noise sounded from Tsuyu’s throat as she kept thinking. “They might interrogate you, but I’m not certain about that either. You’ve been a villain for years, so it’s not like they’re lacking in any evidence of your wrongdoings.”

 

“Wow, tell me about it.” The drone of Tsuyu’s voice was somewhat comforting, but Himiko ached to do something. So she could distract herself from her imagination running wild in her head. “Tsu-chan, I’m bored. Hey, why don’t you let me drink just a teensy bit of your blood and we can play a prank on the guards! It’ll be fun.”

 

There was no disgust in Tsuyu’s face, but she certainly didn’t look impressed. “No thank you,” she said, all too deadpan. “I’m not even supposed to be here.”

 

“Aww, come on. Have a little fun!” Himiko mustered enough strength in her legs to jump at Tsuyu playfully, toppling her over with her body weight since her hands were out of commission. Tsuyu ribbited in surprise, scrambling back. “I can’t remember whether I’ve ever become you. I want to know what it’s like to be Tsu-chan!”

 

To her own surprise, Tsuyu cracked a smile. “I’m not letting you do that, Himiko-chan. ” She pushed Himiko away, her lithe body deceptively strong. When she opened her mouth to say something else, however, she was interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. 

 

They both stopped their scuffle, waiting for something. That something was another knock. “I’m here to take the villain in for questioning,” a muffled voice said stiffly. “Froppy-san, you should take your leave now.”

 

“It seems I’ve been caught.” The deadpan note in Tsuyu’s voice made Himiko giggle, the weight on her shoulders lifted to some degree. “Listen, Himiko-chan. I want to be on your side. I want to understand you, and I know it’s what—it’s what Ochako-chan would’ve wanted, for you to be free. So please… try to play along. Just for now.”

 

She stepped forward, cupping her large hands around Himiko’s bound ones. Even through the gloves, she could feel Tsuyu’s tight grip. 

 

There was nothing but sincerity in her eyes. Tsuyu wanted to help, she really did. Perhaps it was that inherent hero goodness, the compulsive need to help every poor girl or stray dog she came across. Himiko wondered if anyone had ever looked at her that way when she was a child, all those counselors and therapists that claimed they were there to help.

 

But she still didn’t understand. It was a shame, but Himiko suspected that already, ever since Tsuyu walked in with that pity in her eyes.

 

Ochako would understand, if she were here.

 

“I’ll try my best, Tsu-chan. You know I always do.” Himiko wished she could mean it from the bottom of the heart. She did with most of the things she said.

 

This time, though, with the heavy footsteps of the guard approaching her door, she wasn’t so sure.

 

---

 

Thirty minutes in, Himiko’s head began to spin. 

 

She kept her eyes trained on the table her hands were chained to, still wrapped up in gloves and metal. Her interrogator had a cute face, all soft and doe-eyed, no matter how hard he tried to put on an intimidating glare. It was a little funny, and she wondered what he’d taste like. 

 

Her promise to Tsuyu had been broken pretty early on. When he’d asked her, mouth twisted into a scowl, if she regretted all of her crimes. If she felt really, truly sorry, for everything she had done.

 

And, well, she’d had time to reflect on that. Wouldn’t it be nice if she felt that way? If she cried and threw herself down at society’s feet, begging for forgiveness like a dog begging for leftovers? 

 

I just wanted to live my way. Was it so bad to think like that? Wasn’t her life her own?

 

So she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “I’m sorry for what I did to Ochako,” she’d answered, voice low, something solid welling up in her throat at the thought of the hero’s current state. “And I’m so sorry that everyone treated me like a monster when I was just a kid. But… I can’t regret… living the way I did.”

 

At this, Mr. Pretty Face had dropped all pretense of professionalism. “You’re lucky you’re even getting a trial, you know that?” He’d snapped, slapping the table in front of Himiko. “I’d throw you into Tartarus and be done with it, if it weren’t for all those stupid heroes. ”

 

He’d gone on to ramble about how annoying the whole process had been, ten minutes of background noise in Himiko’s head. And now here she was, her temple pounding, the tapping of her fingers muffled by her gloves.

 

“At least your trial will be quick,” he snarled while jotting down her last answer, which HImiko had already forgotten along with the question. She just wanted out of here. The dingy light in the middle of the room shone down on her interrogator, casting everything else into shadow. “Thanks for making it easy.”

 

“You’re very welcome,” Himiko deadpanned, trying to think past her awful migraine. She decided that she didn’t want to drink this guy’s blood after all; it’d probably taste like black liquorice and broccoli. “Can I go now?”

 

“Fine.” With disgust in his eyes, like he was looking at an insect he’d stepped on, he unchained Himiko and called for the guards to haul her away. They always looked like they were expecting her to struggle and start biting everyone in the vicinity, but she went calmly as they gripped her arms tightly.

 

Tsuyu wasn’t waiting for her outside or near her room, which wasn’t exactly surprising. She probably had better things to deal with than a villain who couldn’t lie without feeling like something in her gut was churning.

 

No, why did she have to feel bad for that? Hadn’t she sworn that she would start living with honesty, however she wanted to?

 

Was it even possible? Her words came back to her, from that faithful day, about whether Ochako had been planning to visit her in prison and give her blood every day. She remembered Ochako’s hopeless face, the way she’d stuttered out a disagreement. In her eyes, Himiko knew, there was genuine hope that they could lead a normal future together.

 

But maybe Himiko just wasn’t meant for it. Not in this life and not in this world. Maybe it was trying to force a puzzle piece where it didn’t go.

 

What would Ochako say? Himiko could imagine Ochako’s concerned eyes and her sweet voice, but not her words. Recently, the hero had grown so unpredictable. She wanted to get to know Ochako all over again, so she would know what to think of whenever she got lonely. That was what normal friends did, right? Comforted each other when they were lonely, or sad, or angry. Himiko had never gotten to know that kind of thing.

 

Before she knew it, tears were dripping down her face. The guards didn’t seem to care, continuing their walk down the hallway. They probably didn’t even notice, even when they began to fall and wet her gloves, sliding down her cuffs. 

 

She wanted to feel Ochako’s arms around her. She wanted to feel Ochako’s lips against her neck, on her cheek. She wanted to believe, even if it was too idealistic, in the life Ochako had promised her. 

 

Once they reached her room, they let her go and pushed her in, still dutifully ignoring the wetness of her face. The metal door slammed shut behind her, and it felt like the blade of a guillotine falling. Tartarus, quirk-cancelling cuffs, dull grey walls. Would she get life or a hundred years? Didn’t make a difference anyway.

 

Despite everything, the sunshine still shone through the window. The golden rays cast its light on Himiko, standing at the foot of the bed. It didn’t warm her a bit, though, and she felt like a ghost in the sunlight. Like everything was going straight through her.

 

The steely tang of blood filled her mouth as she collapsed into the chair under the window. Her bottom lip was bleeding, stinging, and it comforted her. She thought about the red sparrow, the scritch-scratch of its talons on her stomach, the way it bled her dry. She wanted to ask Ochako if it was bad that she always woke up missing it.

 

Something fluttered near the window, catching Himiko’s eye. Sitting on the windowsill was a vase with a peony in it, so small it was no surprise she hadn’t noticed before. With a laugh bubbling up in her throat, Himiko suspected it was a pathetic way of trying to make the place feel more cozy.

 

In a way, though, it succeeded. She leaned forward and grabbed it with her mits to the best of her ability, watching it flutter down onto her table. It was a new addition, most likely, with how healthy it looked. Its petals were a lovely pink, far softer than the blood dripping down onto the surface right next to it.

 

Pink, just like Ochako. Like the way her cute face flushed when blood rushed into her cheeks and the fabric of her hero suit running down her chest and waist.

 

Drip, drip, drip went the blood from Himiko’s lip. She turned the peony over in her hands. Her heart ached for her love, ached with the longing to see Ochako again. Voices echoed outside the door.

 

Damn the rules. She was Himiko Toga, and she lived however she wanted, didn’t she?

 

Chapter 3: iii. toward the sound of your voice

Summary:

Himiko makes a daring escape in the name of love.

Notes:

i'm sorry this took so long. i hope you've all had a happy new year so far, and if not, i hope things get better. i'm also sorry if this chapter is a little short. again, comments and thoughts are appreciated! enjoy <3

Really, the escaping was the easy part. 

 

If they thought that all of Himiko’s feats were accomplished by her knife and quirk alone, well, they’d drastically underestimated her. She would feel offended, if it didn’t make mostly everything a walk in the park. 

 

She’d been careful not to hurt the guard who came by to give her food. Seriously, a flying kick to the face and a teensy-tiny knock against the door was barely anything; Himiko was sure he would wake up feeling peachy. He probably wouldn’t even notice the bleeding puncture marks on his arm, either.

 

After trying every single key on the guard’s belt (and there were a lot) she managed to find the one that unlocked her cuffs. They clanked onto the floor and Himiko hurriedly stripped off the gloves, flexing her fingers in relief. 

 

From there, it was fairly easy. She balled up her clothes and placed them underneath her bed’s blanket, giving the illusion of someone curled up under there. The guard’s keycards were stuffed securely in his pocket, so strolling out of the building was a breeze, and scaling over the chainlink fence felt like old times. Himiko felt a little bad taking advantage of the kindess that was putting her in a detention centre clearly not well-guarded enough, but she shook it away. 

 

If it was a gift from society to her, then she was pretty sure she was allowed to refuse or accept it at her leisure.

 

Navigating the streets was a little harder, as she hadn’t been too preoccupied with memorising directions when they’d driven her out of the hospital. To estimate, she probably only had around half an hour with the disguise before it melted off, but hopefully that was all she needed. 

 

Left with no other choice when she couldn’t find any signs, Himiko stopped by a bus station and put on a gruff, but polite, exterior. “Excuse me,” she said to all the people waiting there, “could you tell me where the nearest hospital is?”

 

Though a bit confused, an elderly lady jumped at the request, taking Himiko by the arm and pointing at the bus station’s map. After an enthusiastic and detailed instruction, Himiko waved goodbye with a small smile on her face, hoping none of them had noticed the way the skin on her hands was beginning to melt like wax.

 

By the time she got to the hospital, running through back alleys to avoid being seen while her disguise melted off, she was completely herself again. A little annoying, but she could manage—that big, muscular body was getting unwieldy anyway, not to mention it was totally uncute. She preferred herself.

 

Clinging to the walls and looking through the windows was hard—she was strong, but she wasn’t a spider. Luckily, she had Ochako’s room number memorised— 393 —from when that nurse had come up to her and Izuku to break the news. That already felt like so long ago. Everything had been so empty since then, like one endless stretch of nothing.

 

Finally, she caught sight of a brown head of hair and a ridiculous amount of flowers that could only mean it was a hero staying in the room. Carefully, she slipped in through the window, hyperaware of how naked she was.

 

The aircon, though set to a low temperature, made Himiko shiver. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to worry about it too much when Ochako was right there. 

 

For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the steady beeping of the heart monitor and their breathing, mismatched but intertwined. It reminded her of how it had felt laying on the ground just a few days ago, pain pounding through her body, Ochako’s weak pulse the only thing reassuring her into the darkness.

 

They were both alive now. If only Ochako could know that.

 

How long would she even stay alive? And was it better for her to die now, or to stay deep in her slumber as her body aged? Just the thought of it made Himiko want to cry.

 

Seized with the sudden urge to touch Ochako, to make sure she was still here and that she wasn’t yet another figment of Himiko’s overactive imagination, she bounded across the room and gently laced her fingers through Ochako’s limp ones.

 

After all, how could it be real? For someone so perfect, so… normal, to love Himiko just the way she was?

 

But there it was, the warmth of Ochako’s life beneath Himiko’s hand. She was right here, unlike the dream sparrow, unlike the disgusted voices in her head that whispered about the devil living next door. 

 

It would be better if she were quiet. Making noise would just alert anyone standing outside the door that Ochako’s still, sleeping body wasn’t completely alone. But Himiko couldn’t help the words spilling out of her mouth before she could even begin to consider any of that.

 

“Ochako-chan,” she warbled, falling to her knees, floor cold against her bare skin. She brought Ochako’s hand and pressed it against her cheek, now wet with tears. When had she actually begun to cry? “Oh, Ochako-chan.”

 

“I’m sorry…” She whispered, squeezing her hand even tighter, as if the simple gesture could convey all the sensations welling up in her chest. “I’m sorry. It should be me in your place, you know? That’s what would be right. I know you wouldn’t want it, but…”

Nothing changed on Ochako’s face. Her eyes stay closed, her sweet lips slightly apart as she breathed slowly, chest rising and falling in a steady pattern. She couldn’t hear Himiko; of course she couldn’t.

 

“My trial is soon. They’re going to put me in a room with a bunch of old geezers and let them tell me what my life is gonna be like.” Himiko almost giggled at the thought. “I hate it. It’s total bullshit. But what else am I gonna do with this life of mine, Ochako-chan? This life that you gave me, now that you’re not in it?”

 

The unmoving figure that is Ochako Uraraka did not respond. Himiko took a shaky breath against her soft skin, washed clean of all the dirt and blood from that day. There were small scars littered all across her arms, and Himiko wanted to press her mouth to all of them. 

 

“No one’s like you. No one understands.” Himiko knew how bad of an idea this was, but she didn’t stop to think about it, as she reached up and pressed her forehead to Ochako’s cheek. In the touch there was something reassuring. “I won’t pretend to be all selfless like you heroes. I’m a greedy and selfish kind of girl.”

 

“That’s why,” she continued. If she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Ochako breathing, Himiko could let herself believe that the words could reach her. “That’s why…”

 

So she held onto Ochako like a lifeline and kept her eyes shut. 

 

“Save me, okay, hero?” Himiko laughed wetly, burying her face in the crook of Ochako’s neck, and she could almost hear Ochako’s laugh too. “Wake up so I can learn how to live like a normal girl with you. Because a world without you… I can’t stand it.”

 

Without Ochako, it was back to the way it was. Back to the dark.

 

What was it, after this? She could run away, back to the compound, but it wasn’t like there was any hiding what she’d done. Maybe if Himiko was a normal girl sneaking back into her room, but she’d never been that.

 

They’d probably noticed by now. They were probably after her as she lay in Ochako’s small hospital bed, trembling and crying like a little girl. She wondered briefly if the guards and cops would see it that way, or whether they’d all see the demon child too. 

 

It didn’t matter. One more crime tacked onto a list of many didn’t make a big change. Even as Tsuyu’s words echoed in her head, the disappointed expression on her face, Himiko couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

 

Ochako’s cheek against hers. Her warmth chasing away the terrible cold that had plagued Himiko ever since she’d woken up in that white room. No, there was no regret.

 

Sorry, Tsuyu, but after all, she was nothing but selfish. 

 

Except maybe when it came to Ochako. Who loved her so much, so selflessly, it made Himiko want to be selfless too, just for her.

 

“I need you,” Himiko whispered. The heart monitor continued to beep regularly. Still alive, still alive, still alive. As long as she could feel Ochako’s pulse in her neck, that meant it wasn’t over, so she couldn’t die yet. “Don’t… leave me in this stupid world, Ochako-chan.”

 

Never, Himiko-chan, she imagined her saying, with those wide eyes and bright smile. I’ll always be right here with you.

 

The door opened.

 

-

 

There had been good times with her family. Good, normal times, the picture of perfection that Himiko barely remembered. Before she turned four. Before the illusion of a sweet girl faded and all that was left was the monster underneath.

 

Even if Himiko didn’t remember them clearly, she was painfully aware of their existence. Memories left only in words rather than pictures; a summer day picnic, a birthday party, a theme park day trip. She remembered how her parents used to mark her height on the wall as she stood as straight as possible—even though she couldn’t remember their voices, the brush of the marker against the top of her head still felt familiar.

 

There was this. At the playground with her parents, them fussing over her as she skipped around. Before the quirk, before the curse, they were always so protective over her.

 

Every time she got on a swing, they’d say, Himiko, don’t go too high. Every time she went down the slide, they’d say, Himiko, keep your legs in. But if she listened, they wouldn’t get mad. They’d laugh and hold her hand and buy her ice cream.

 

Himiko tightened her grip on the swing ropes, before pushing her feet against the ground and lifting off. She was soaring. Laughter spilled out of her mouth from her chest, happiness bubbling up like soda as her legs kicked in the air.

 

It was over too soon, when the swing stopped rocking. She wanted to go again; wanted to fly again; but when she tried to dig her feet into the dirt, it was her shins that got scraped instead. 

 

When she looked down, her legs looked too long. Like noodles. Like she’d been stretched out the same way she played with her clay. Suddenly every part of her body felt too big. Her hands, her chest, the way her head sat on her shoulders. 

 

Himiko called for her mother, for her father, voice breaking as she held onto the ropes tighter and tighter. She couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, these limbs too big for her refusing to budge. It was scary. It was weird. She wanted her parents.

 

But no matter how hard she cried, they wouldn’t come. She stumbled out of the swing, but her legs refused to carry her, dropping into the dirt. Her knees were scraped and bleeding—the red of it caught her eye, glistening in the sunlight. 

 

There was whispering in her ears, but no voice belonged to her parents. “Leave me alone,” Himiko hiccuped, and her voice sounded so different. She didn’t like it. She wanted back her old voice, her old body. 

 

The whispers grew louder, but she still couldn’t catch anything they were saying. There was no one in the playground, the streets and park empty as far as Himiko could see, but for some reason it felt like people were watching her. Judging her. She looked to the sky, as if there was anyone beyond it. 

 

“Please!” She begged to the sky, to the voices, to the unrelenting eyes. “Please just leave me alone!”

 

And they did.

 

It all went silent. Nothing except the sound of her own shoes—which were weird now, too, all black and boring—against the ground. 

 

Then—

 

“Himiko-chan!” A voice chirped. It wasn’t like the whispers, and it wasn’t her parents either. No, it was soft and sweet and high, and it almost put Himiko at ease, despite how unfamiliar it was. “What are you doing?”

 

When she turned around, a girl stood by the swings. She had a large pink coat on, and a cute patterned scarf tied around her neck. Though she wasn’t sitting on the swing, she was rocking back and forth like she was, pink sneakers tapping against the ground.

 

“Himiko-chan,” she said again. None of her friends at school called her that. None of them looked so tall and mature and beautiful, either. 

 

“Who are you?” 

 

“Aw, come on. You know me.” She did. She felt like she should have. There was something so familiar about those pink cheeks and brown eyes, wide and innocent like a doe’s. But no matter how much she reached, the answer kept slipping through her fingers. What was her name? What was it? 

 

It felt like she was someone important to Himiko. Someone dear to her.

 

“You don’t know me, Himiko-chan? You don’t remember?” The girl walked away from the swings and toward Himiko. Smile still on her face, hands behind her back. Something about it scared Himiko. “I love you. Why don’t you remember?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m sorry,” Himiko managed weakly, taking a step back as the girl approached. Next second, her wrists were being grabbed, and though she struggled the mystery girl’s grip was like iron. “I’m sorry…” 

 

Her hand around Himiko’s wrists tightened. “Really? You killed me, and you can’t even remember my name?” 

 

The words nearly knocked the breath out of Himiko. When she felt something wet against her shirt, she looked down—to see a mess of glistening red from a gaping wound in the other girl’s stomach. From it emerged a beak covered in blood, and black beady eyes.

 

“I’m sorry,” Himiko repeated, like it was the only thing she knew how to say. 

 

She did that. She didn’t know how, but it was all her fault. That was why her parents had left her there, alone at the swings. That was why she could feel judgmental eyes on her back, disgusted voices in her ears.

 

She had done this.

 

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I didn’t,” she sobbed, trying to pull away. She wished she could fall down. She wished she could run away.

 

But the girl held her, arms winding around her chest now, blood soaking into Himiko’s skin. Feathers fell over her, red like her insides. The crimson sparrow landed on her shoulder, but its talons didn’t tickle pleasantly, instead sending sharp pain down her arm as it scratched her. 

 

It didn’t hurt more than the feeling of Ochako against her, holding her tight and still smiling, the love in her eyes unfading. 

 

Right. That was her name. Uraraka Ochako… the hero Uravity. The hero who had saved her. How had she forgotten?

 

All the fight flooded out of Himiko. Right… this was all her fault. Even though she had given everything, even though she had tried to save her—Ochako was still hurting. Monsters couldn’t save people, after all. It wasn’t in their blood.

 

“Ochako,” she rasped. “I’m sorry.”

 

Then, nothing but light.