No Matter The Cost

by LostSilverChara_2

Summary:

Tomura had no idea what he would do. He was destined to be a villain. To some, he already was. And really, could he blame them? His quirk was as deadly as they came.

But he didn't want to be a villain.

Truthfully, he didn't know what he would be. If he was lucky, he would fade into the background, his past forgotten, his face one among millions.

However, fate had different plans. Or maybe he was just lucky. Really, he would never know.

Himiko Toga appeared one day. Downtrodden, alone. Just like him, told she would be a villain. Was ALREADY a villain, truthfully. Her second chance was fleeting, her fate seemingly hopeless.

But she still had a smile. If not on her face, in her soul. She was determined to make a change, however she could.

Shigaraki didn't know why, but she filled him with drive. Ambition. A single goal in his mind, without direction, but with tenacity and determination.

He would be a hero. He would prove to everyone that he wasn't what they said of him, no matter the cost.

 

(This is a rewrite of the original No Matter The Cost, which... has some problems. You don't need to read that for this to make sense.)

Notes:

• Inspired by An Easier Place by KTLJ
• Inspired by Kaleidoscope by DripBayless

TRIGGER WARNING:

This fic explores themes of the following subjects: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Child Sexual Abuse, Medical Malpractice, Medical Torture, Grooming, Brainwashing, Animal Death, Parricide, Child Death, Torture, The Foster Care System, Death, Murder, Violence, and generally dark themes.

If you are sensitive to any of these subjects, I suggest skipping this fic entirely. However, if you do choose to proceed despite my warnings, I will label each chapter for its respective trigger warnings.

 

HERE'S THE REWRITE PEOPLE *throws it at you like a grenade*

Chapter 1: Prologue

The boy was a fool.

Of course, it was to be expected. He was young. Hardly more than a toddler.

He was easy to influence. Easy to change.

Easy to mold, and twist, and bend into something new.

Something he could use.

All for One smiled. Not particularly wide, but calm. Composed.

There, in that room, he would be crafting an heir. A tool.

This boy was exactly what he needed.

He had the hate inside of him. That dark seed, dormant, waiting to burst to life.

Thousands of bystanders had ignored him, assuring him that a hero would come, Complacent and naive.

No hero had come for him.

Tenko Shimura was a fool. 

His family were fools. Reduced to nothing but hands and dust. Ash and bone.

All Might was a fool. To think he could beat him.

Yoichi was a fool. To think he could escape.

In the end, All for One would control everything. As he was meant to.

Of course he was meant to.

He turned towards the boy.

“These are the remains of that ‘family’ of yours.”

Hands. Pale, bony, and stiff.

The boy said nothing. Stared down at his feet, arms hanging limply by his sides.

“The remains of the family that left you to rot. Treated you like you were beneath them.”

He stayed silent.

“Take them. Let them remind you of your goal. Let them remind you of your hatred.”

Silence.

“Take them.”

The boy took them. 

One by one, he placed them on his body.

Burning it all away.

Until, finally, he placed the final hand.

All for One smiled. This was just what he needed.

“From this day forward, Tenko Shimura is dead. I am your family.”

Silence.

And then the boy nodded.

“You are Tomura Shigaraki. And you are the death of this society.”

The boy was still. 

Perfectly silent. Perfectly obedient.

The smallest of smiles graced his face, and he laughed. A small chuckle, really.

And then it grew, evolving into a cackle, that dark seed of madness beginning to spout, growing, consuming until there was nothi-

There was a knock on the door.

All for One turned towards the sound. A knock? How come he couldn't sense what was on the other side?

He reached his senses outward, and yet there was nothing. What was this?

“Simitoru Pizza Delivery Service.”

“What-?”

The door flew off its hinges with a resounding crash, narrowly missing the boy and splintering into pieces against the wall behind him. 

“No-!”

Before he could move, a white binding cloth flew from above, wrapping him up and pinning his arms to his sides. A black-clothed figure leapt from the catwalk above and knocked him to the ground.

“Ah, Eraserhead. How long have you been following me?

The man scowled.

“Long enough.”

From the doorway, two heroes dashed into the room. Physically strong types, as expected. Not that anyone would be able to defeat him.

“Grab the kid,” one yelled. “Eraserhead can handle the villain!”

All for One smirked.

“The foolish confidence of the unwary…”

The villain arched his back, and with a quick yet precise movement, slammed his head into the erasure hero’s skull. The man stumbled, and All for One took advantage of the opportunity, flipping onto his feet and easily breaking the bindings.

“Now, to end this foolishness.”

He dashed towards the four-armed hero who had collected Tomura and-

A massive fist struck him across his face, sending him flying through the air and straight through the wall behind him.

He tumbled out into the rain, but managed to slide to a stop, crouched down with one hand on the ground.

“All Might… I expect you’re here to finish this little game?”

He stood and splayed his arms wide.

“Well, then let's do it!”

The symbol of peace stepped out into the rain.

“Fourth Kind, Gunhead, get the kid out of here.”

All for One dropped his smile.

“I'm afraid I cannot allow that.”

He propelled himself through the air towards the heroes, arm pulled back and ready to punch.

“The boy is MINE!”

At the last second, All Might caught the tyrant's arm and spun around, flinging him into the side of a nearby building. The resulting crash reverberated across the city, sending wind currents across the field and knocking the other heroes off of their feet.

As All for One began picking his way out of the rubble, All Might turned back towards the others.

“Quickly, grab the child and go! Before he recovers!”

“But-”

“GO!”

Silence. Rain.

And then, after a moment's hesitation, the heroes picked up the child and fled.

The rubble exploded just as they made their way out of sight, All for One floating out of the wreckage with an uncharacteristic scowl on his face.

“I'll be needing that boy back.”

All Might cracked his knuckles.

“This ends now.”

All for One rose yet higher in the air.

“Yes. It does.”

The two charged, entering battle with firey fury.

Only one left.

 

---

 

5

12

20

30

Himiko was a monster. Just like they said.

But she couldn’t stop herself.

40

47

50

Ever since the dawn of Quirks, it became significantly easier to get away with a crime. Even so, Toga was disgusting, wasn't she?

60.

60 corpses. 

60 long, slow deaths.

She couldn’t help that they looked so cute, covered in blood.

She couldn’t help that they smelled so delicious.

She couldn't help but drink.

Why couldn’t she just be normal? Like everyone else. Without this . . . compulsion.

This desire.

This desperate, all consuming need.

60.

Some were animals, of course. People were harder to catch.

But she felt just the same.

A monster.

A demon.

A shameful display.

A demon, incapable of ever being anything even close to normal, or acceptable, or civilized.

Normal.

Normal . . .

Such a weird word.

Who was to decide what was normal or not? In this world of quirks, was anything normal?

Maybe . . . this was her normal.

 

61.

 

Her normal.

 

62.

 

They looked so cute, covered in blood. 

 

63.

 

She loved this. This feeling. This ecstasy.

 

64.

 

She loved them. How cute they looked, beaten and reeking of blood.

 

65.

 

They were so cute. She wanted to be cute. She wanted to be them.

. . .

Then she was caught.

66 was a short American man. A tourist. A bandage was wrapped around his right thigh. The scent of blood was so strong. So enticing.

He was so cute. She wanted to be him.

She wanted to kill him.

She hid in an alleyway. Pretended to be hurt.

Then she attacked.

She cut his throat and drank. Drank greedily. Every last drop.

Then she felt dizzy.

Cold. Shaking. The world spun around her like a gyroscope, spots filling her vision and nausea filling her body.

She stumbled out of the alleyway. Soaked in blood, knife in hand.

. . .

When she woke up, She was in the hospital. Handcuffed to the bed.

A kind faced man looked down at her. He wanted to ask her questions. About what happened.

Soon, she was in a nice, pretty white room. She was still out of it, really. Dizzy. Cold.

But she still knew what that meant.

She was sick to them.

Not ill. She wasn't dying. 

She was sick in the head.

Chapter 2: Change

Summary:

A new girl arrives in school. Tomura dislikes her, but it seems she likes him a lot.

Meanwhile, Izuku deals with some problems of his own.

Notes:

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
Self Harm, Assault, Manipulation.

It was crowded. Tomura hated crowds. He hated the noise, the heat, the stuffiness of all those bodies in one space. Sure, it was inevitable; he lived in the city. Crowds were a fact of life, completely unavoidable, always looming around the corner.

But he never, ever got used to them. On his list of least favorite things, crowds were up there. Somewhere between stale bread and hero fanboys.

However, this morning, he wasn’t in a particular hurry to escape the crowd. It was cool out. The rising sun was giving the city around him a golden glow. Those were conditions he liked, or at least could tolerate. He had always preferred chilly weather over warmer weather, so it was a welcome surprise.

Students, office workers, even a few pro heroes walked the streets, each on their way to school, work, or wherever else they needed to be. And each person was unique in their own way, all sorts of mutations standing out in the crowd.

Unfortunately, Tomura was unique as well. Not quite as eye-catching as someone with a mutation-type Quirk, but enough to draw others' attention. For one, his hair was a shock of pale blue, which would be fine on its own, if it didn’t hang limply and messily over hunting, bright red eyes. Combined with his scarred, cracked skin and poor posture, he screamed “villian” in all senses of the word. So he tried his best to stay out of trouble.

His best wasn't very good , but it was what it was.

Tomura made a right turn and bumped into a skeletal blonde man, who muttered a quick apology and continued on his way, mumbling under his breath and looking rather concerned. Almost… in pain?

…

Tomura walked on. Whatever that man had going on, he doubted that he would be much help. Probably just got laid off or something. Considering the recent uptick in layoffs in Mustafu, he wouldn't be surprised by it.

Shoowaysha Publishing. What a joke.

He shook his head free of the sudden distraction and sped up. He didn’t want to be late. He had already been held back once, and on top of his late enrollment in primary school, he wasn't willing to make a fool of himself again. Whatever he would do after junior high . . . well, that didn’t really matter. Probably die on the streets, for all he cared.

It was really the only path forward for someone like him.

He sighed, his mood dampened by his new train of thought, and made a quick turn left, onto an emptier side street. It was a shortcut he took often, to get away from the cramped main street. Nobody ever seemed to notice it, save for-

A calloused hand fell onto Tomura’s shoulder, sparking and burning part of his uniform.

Speak of the devil.

“Hey, Kusatta. Did you think you could avoid me? Or are you just so stupid, to keep taking this route? You know I go through here!”

Tomura deliberately waited a bit longer than was necessary before looking over his shoulder.

Bakugou Katsuki was a spiky-haired blonde boy, just a little shorter than Tomura. He was broader, though, and his face was almost perpetually angry.

He was an asshole. To say the least. Tomura didn't think of himself as nice, but compared to Bakugou, he was downright pleasant.

Tomura gave Bakugou a cold, sharp glare, but the blonde seemed completely unaffected.

“What do you want,” Tomura rasped. It wasn't really a question; it came out flat and uncaring, stained with the cloud of apathy that surrounded him wherever he went. Bakugou didn’t seem to care about that either, though. His saccharine grin was just as unaffected as before.

“I just wanted to warn you, Crusty. Some new extra moved in, in the apartments across the street from me. No doubt they’ll want to kick your ass.”

Tomura bit back a spike of anxiety. He ought to be used to this by now, really. He looked like a villain, so he was treated like one. The hero wannabes in his class took great pleasure in beating down the resident villain, so he was more than used to the rules he had to follow.

Lay low. Don't stand out. Don't piss anybody off. Still…

“Why are you telling me this?”

Bakugou scoffed loudly.

“Well, she looks vicious. I don't want her to kill you, is all. I plan to do that myself, when I go Pro!”

Tomura scowled and turned away from the blonde. He didn't have time for this shit. Bakugou wasn’t worth the time of day.

“I'm not a villain, Bakugou.”

“Those articles have something else to say about that, hm,” the blonde said smugly. “Don't forget; I can show everyone those articles. You practically belong to me.”

He began walking away with an air of self satisfaction, and Tomura grit his teeth. Of course. He had to bring it up whenever it was possible, didn’t he?

“I'll see you in class, Kusatta.”

He disappeared around the corner, leaving Tomura to stand there, teeth gritted.

Those articles.

It wasn't true.

“What did you do? What did you do!? You monster!”

It wasn't true.

He walked forwards, turned a corner and pushed a low hanging branch out of his face. Those articles were filled with lies, he knew they were, but would anybody else believe that?

No. Almost certainly not.

Lay low. Don't stand out. Don't piss anybody off.

He had no other options. It was the only way forward.

As far as anybody else knew, he was just a creepy kid with a disgusting Quirk. No matter what anybody said, those articles were filled with lies. Somebody, somewhere, had gotten something wrong.

He would remember if he killed someone, right? Only a monster would dare forget.

It's on record, Tomura. Don't be a fool.

Tomura lifted his hand and scraped at the skin above his eye, until he felt a familiar stinging pain. He couldn’t start thinking like that.

Then where did the hands come from, Tomura?

He grit his teeth and walked faster. He couldn’t afford to be late.

 

---

 

Katsuki made it to class before anybody else that morning, as per usual, and had his shit ready by the time Kusatta came in 5 minutes later. The freak had the nerve to glare at him, as if he thought he was better than him. But Katsuki knew that he wouldn’t do shit if push came to shove. When it came down to it, he was a coward, and all that fake ass bravado… fuckin’ god. If Katsuki hated anything, it was someone who didn’t know their place.

By the time the class had filled up, though, Shigaraki had become focused on something in his notebook, and Katsuki decided not to give the little shit the time of day. His crusty ass could glare at him until his eyes popped out of his skull, for all he cared. He would just kick his ass later.

As for everyone else… hardly relevant, really. There was Deku, who pissed him off in so many ways that he couldn’t count. His friends, who were fuckin’ idiots in all senses of the word, but at least they knew their place. And beyond that… extras. Background characters. At least he could say Kusatta would be back later. Everyone else? He would leave them in the dust. He was the best of them all, in the end.

Katsuki leaned forward in his seat and opened his notebook as the teacher entered the room. At some point, Deku had begun scribbling something in one of his many notebooks, muttering at his usual rapid-fire pace. Kusatta had three notebooks and a sketchbook sprawled across his desk, teeth gritted as he crumpled a piece of paper and shoved it into his bag.

He rolled his eyes. It was as if he was the only person in the world who bothered to take school seriously.

The day proved to be uneventful. He breezed through his assignments with ease, while everyone around him struggled, or didn’t try at all.

Well, they may have been trying, but it didn’t really count in Katsuki’s head if they weren’t putting forward 110%. He could only scoff at Deku’s pitiful attempt to multitask. The green-haired boy was visibly panicking as work gathered on his desk.

All in all: boring as fuck.

At least, until she showed up. In the middle of 2nd period, 40 minutes before lunch.

Katsuki had to admit to himself; she was braver than the other extras. They always shuffled in, muttering apologies about their lateness, as if it wasn't their own damn fault. That shit pissed him off to no end. She did none of that. She kicked open the door with absolutely zero warning, skipped in- skipped , like skipping was normal for anyone older than 5- and proceeded to not give half of a fuck about what time it was, or what the fuck the teacher thought about her.

That pissed him off. Not enough for him to do anything about it, but it pissed him off anyway.

The teacher glared at her, something between incredulity and murder in his eyes, and spoke in a strained tone.

“Nice to see you’ve finally arrived,” he said, jaw firmly set. “Everyone, this is your new classmate.” 

He turned to her. 

“Why don’t you introduce yourself and take a seat over there?”

He pointed to the space next to Kusatta, and the girl nodded with an unprecedented amount of enthusiasm. She gave a smile so wide that Katsuki was sure she would tear her own face open, and began to speak.

“Hi! My name is Toga Himiko, but you all can call me Toga-chan,” she said brightly, bringing her hands up to her face and tilting her head, giving her the vibe of some sort of murderous Hello Kitty. “It’s nice to meet you all! I hope we can all be great… friends .”

She said friends as one would say victims .

Most of the class muttered greetings, slightly put off by her creepiness. Bakugou scowled. She just looked like a freak to him. When he had seen her the day before, it had been from a distance, watching as she pulled a small suitcase from a large black van. She had been dressed in filthy white clothing, flanked by two men who kept a close eye on her. She had looked completely feral; her hair curled and spiked out everywhere, falling over her back in dirty mounds. Her skin had been dark with grime. And her eyes had a dead quality to them, as if she had seen something horrific, and hadn’t been able to recover from the experience.

But now, she looked so cleaned up it was almost sickening. Her hair was perfectly silky and straightened, tied in two obscenely messy buns. Her skin was clean, perfectly smooth. And her uniform was flawlessly pressed and ironed.

And her eyes… well, they still looked dead, but less so. From here, he could see some sort of brewing madness behind them.

Katsuki turned his focus back to his work, scowling, as she made her way to her seat. She was fake now. That pissed him off. As the teacher went back to math, he focused back on his work, aggressively writing down notes and crushing problems. He would have screamed something like “DIE, MATH!”, but he had already gotten sent to the principal's office that week for screaming about an essay.

That was fucking stupid. He should be able to scream whatever he fucking wanted, he had the highest grades in the damn class! But he could deal with it. He could.

He looked over at Toga, casually. To his surprise, she was staring at Shigaraki. Just, staring. Not even being subtle. Her face was bright pink with blush, and her eyes looked… hungry. The pale-haired boy looked extremely uncomfortable, and Katsuki almost felt bad for him. Almost.

He went back to focusing on his work. Whatever. He could deal with that creep on his own, Katsuki wanted nothing to do with her.

God, and he had been thinking that she would kick his ass. She seemed obsessed with the freak. It reminded him of an old English phrase . . . what was it? Right. ‘Birds of a feather flock together’. Seemed appropriate. They were both total creeps, apparently.

He destroyed a few more math problems. Too easy. He didn’t understand how everyone around him was struggling. He finished the worksheet. Then the next. And the next. As usual, he was working ahead, putting maximum effort into his work.

Finally, his pencil snapped, and he growled. He looked up to grab his pencil sharpener…

And she was right in front of him, staring into his soul. A placid grin on her face, her eyes hardly holding back whatever was brewing inside.

He held back the urge to jump and shriek loudly, instead shoving her and yelling in rage.

“WHAT THE HELL? Get outta my face, bastard! I’ll blow your head off, bitch!”

She steadied herself and dusted off her shirt with a giggle. She was surprisingly sturdy; his shove had hardly even pushed her back.

“That would be pretty… sounds like a neat way to go out, what with the gore and all.”

…

What?

“What are ya, some sort of freak?”

She seemed to realize exactly what she had just said, and her permanent blush went from pink to bright red.

“Oh, oh no… did I say that aloud?”

The words she spoke told him that she regretted her words, but her tone of voice said something completely different; she didn’t sound sincere at all.

Katsukis thoughts were proven correct by her next giggle. God, he hated that sound.

“Really, though, I just wanted to tell you that it's lunch time,” she said, pointing at the clock on the wall. Katsuki scowled and looked over. Twelve forty. He must've gotten pretty sucked into his work.

“Well. what the hell! Why didn’t anybody tell me!?” he yelled. This pushed a full laugh out of her, a high pitched sort of cackle punctuated by a snort. That stung a bit more than the giggling.

“They seemed too scared to talk to you. I don’t know why though. You're cute.”

CUTE?

“Cute!? I oughta kick your ass!”

She gave a sly grin, revealing sharp, oversized canines.

“Yeah, cute,” she said, still laughing a bit. She reached out and ruffled up his hair, and he swatted her hand away with a snarl.

“Anyway, imma eat lunch! Bye bye,” she said, blowing him a kiss.

And she skipped away.

Katsuki stared at her, too shocked to even glare.

What was with that freak?

 

---

 

Tomura wasn’t the biggest fan of his newest classmate. Maybe it was the fact that she looked like a murderer. Or maybe it was her bright, cheery attitude. More likely, it was the fact that she kept fucking staring at him.

He was used to staring. He drew others' attention, whether he liked it or not. But those stares were usually followed by a fist to the face, or a scathing insult. This was something entirely new. Because she just kept staring .

She stared at him with an intensity that he had never felt before, with a creepy grin on her face and a bright redness to her cheeks. Her eyes were ravenous, and he felt like she was just waiting for the chance to pounce. And then maybe eat his flesh.

Yeah, that was the word he was looking for. She looked hungry . If others had malicious intent, then she had… whatever was beyond malicious. He tried to focus on his work, but it wasn't happening. He was just too aware of her presence. 

He looked over at her, just for a moment, and he could've sworn he'd caught her licking her lips. Tomura decided to ignore her the best he could. Whatever her issue was . . . she could deal with it herself. He preferred to not think about it.

Even so, when he deliberately turned away, he could still feel her eyes on him. He could feel them carving out every feature of his face, every scar, even the shape of his body… like a knife carving flesh.

What was her problem ?

Tomura, you can’t judge a book by its cover. You, of all people, should know that. Besides, you're just as sick as her, aren't you?

He sighed and crossed out a wrong answer. Okay, sure. He couldn't just assume shit about her. But he was sure she had malicious intent. And, besides, it wasn't like he was staring at people, planning their downfall. He wasn’t sick . He was fine .

Liar. You’re a liar, Tomura Shigaraki.

Tomura growled. What did that even mean?

You're not fine. You're a sick bastard, aren't you?

No, he wasn't. He was fine and he didn’t do anything and he never killed anyone because he would remember if he did, only a monster would forget-

Who said anything about killing anyone?

Tomura froze, just as the bell rang. He stood immediately and began making his way to the cafeteria. He needed something to eat. To take his mind off things.

However, and he walked down the hallway, weaving his way through groups of students and avoiding the most unfriendly of faces, he was suddenly stopped by a tap on the shoulder. He turned around, and was met with a plain face, framed by green locks of hair. Izuku Midoriya.

The shorter boy held something up; Tomura’s sketchbook. How did he get that?

…

Oh god, what if he looked in it?

He quickly snatched away the book, and Midoriya, clearly surprised and looking panicked, quickly stammered out an explanation.

“You… ah, you left it… um, at your desk? I didn’t look through it, but it was open, so… maybe I saw something? I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, it's not like I can get mad at you for helping,” Tomura muttered, flipping through the pages. Nothing seemed out of place, thank god.

Midoriya was silent for an awkward moment.

Tomura wasn't friends with Midoriya. He hardly knew him, in fact. But they were both outcasts; the quirkless kid, the villain kid. So where he was quiet and dismissive with others, with Midoriya, Tomura found himself just a bit less guarded.

But not by much. Even if they were both outcasts, they were still completely different. Midoriya faded into the background, and Tomura stood out. Tomura was the one that people saw, and hated. Midoriya… well, nobody hated him. They just didn’t want him around. And though that seemed insignificant, it made all the difference in the world.

Finally, Midoriya spoke again.

“Actually, I did see… well, it was open, so I saw… ah, was that… Toxic Chainsaw?”

Damnit. When Midoriya got started on heroes, he never stopped. For how meek he was, he had a habit of blurting out factoids and jumping into conversations whenever he heard a mention of heroes.

“Yeah,” Tomura mumbled, stuffing his sketchbook into his bag. “His aesthetic was solid, I guess.”

…

And then he continued, because he had no filter, and was braindead.

“Total noob, though. Minmaxing idiot, thought he could use poison damage and strength to kill All Might, but didn’t spec into speed at all,” he said, voice rising slightly above his previous mumble. “Got what he had coming to him. Anybody else could’ve used his Quirk better.”

Midoriya nodded eagerly, a small grin appearing on his face.

“A lot of heroes and villains have that issue,” he said excitedly. “They specialize in what they’re naturally good at, but they don’t bother to explore other options. Like… Endeavor, I guess. He's fast and strong, and he's really good at combat, but he got a lot of criticism for not using his quirk to cauterize wounds during that Shibuya fiasco a few years ago.”

Tomura remembered that, vaguely. The villain that had caused that, Jumper, could summon sharp, whiplike appendages, and Endeavor had chased them instead of helping the injured. Didn’t even catch them, either; Hawks did. Or maybe Mirko…? He couldn’t recall. He… wasn’t particularly fond of heroes.

“Yeah, that was a fucking mess,” he said. “Endeavor, that prick…”

Midoriya looked away and chuckled awkwardly.

“He… well, he has a great incident resolution rate, but… he can be controversial…”

He suddenly jumped, eyes wide.

“Oh, we're supposed to be at lunch! I-I’m so sorry, I held you up…!”

Tomura watched as the boy ran to the cafeteria, and, after a moment of silence, he began making his way there as well.

That was… an odd interaction. Tomura didn't realize that he shared an interest with Midoriya… if only on the surface. Tomura knew that Midoriya was always writing in his notebooks, but was he really writing the same stuff as him…?

No. Probably not. Where Midoriya was obsessed with heroes, Tomura hated them with a passion. But that was neither here nor there, he thought. It was best not to think too much about that, at the moment. He was stressed enough as it was.

By the time he arrived in the cafeteria, it was crowded, groups of students talking loudly, eating the subpar food the school provided. The floors were covered in a distinctive layer of grease and dirt that never came out. The tables were scratched, chipped, and torn apart so severely that Tomura was half tempted to Decay them and force the school to buy new ones. And, of course, there were always fights. Fights were a constant at Aldera Junior High; there was hardly a student that hadn’t been in one.

He quickly paid for a bowl of cheap, basic ramen and found an empty (and relatively intact) table to sit at.

He liked ramen, which was high praise, coming from him. He didn’t like much of anything. 

It was comforting.

When he was almost halfway through his bowl, he saw a large, painfully pink bento enter the edge of his vision, and he heard somebody sit.

Nobody had ever sat next to him. Not by choice, at least. His head snapped towards the interloper.

Himiko Toga. Of course. The bento should have been a dead giveaway; it was covered in stickers and beads and glitter. The abundance of disgustingly cartoony cats and sickening colors seemed like just the sort of thing she would be into.

Tomura resisted the urge to shove her away, instead taking a moment to collect himself. Just as he was about to tell her to leave, however, she spoke up. 

“You know, it's sad that nobody wants to sit with you,” she said, smiling widely and opening her bento, revealing that the contents were just as disgustingly adorable as the outside; rice balls decorated as pandas, some sort of blood red curry that looked to have edible glitter mixed in, and a mountain of pomegranate seeds. Tomura felt sick just looking at it.

“Especially since you're so cute,” she continued, smiling widely. “You should have hordes of people around you.”

Tomura fumbled his chopsticks, badly. They fell into his bowl and, in his haste to retrieve them, he nearly knocked his lunch off the table.

“Wh- what ?”

She giggled and picked up a single pomegranate seed, holding it up as if to get a better look at it.

“Oh, are you not used to compliments? Don't worry, I'm not either.”

He picked up his chopsticks, steadied his bowl, and took a moment to regain his composure. Only then did he fully process what she had said.

Cute was the last word he would use to describe himself. He was hideously scarred. His skin was so flaky and dry it looked cracked in places. His hair was damaged in all sorts of ways that he hadn't bothered to investigate. He didn't even have eyebrows . So what the fuck was she talking about?

Finally, it came to him. She was mocking him.

“I look like I've been through a blender,” he said dismissively. “I’m not ‘cute’.”

She snorted, waving her hand as if dismissing his statement altogether and shoving a few seeds into her mouth.

“You’re funny! Really, you are cute. You've got a handsome face, you just need to take better care of yourself!”

Tomura took a vicious bite of ramen. He was done with this, he decided. He wanted nothing to do with this.

“You’re fucking with me. I won’t entertain this.”

He stood to leave, but Toga grabbed his sleeve, stopping him. She looked oddly panicked.

“Wait, no! Don’t go, I really do like you!”

Kill her.

Almost as if something else entirely took over his body, his head snapped towards her, a sudden, wide eyed glare on his face, and she fell back, letting go of his sleeve with a look of fear on her face.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn't mean to-”

But he had already stepped back, heart thundering, fear and guilt running through his veins like electricity. Had he really… considered hurting her?

No. No, he couldn't have. He wasn't thinking right, he wasn’t a monster…

“Stay away from me,” he said.

Toga called out as he walked away.

“I'm sorry!”

But he was already gone.

 

---

 

When Izuku returned to class, Toga was looking down at her books, a blank, lifeless expression on her face, and Shigaraki had a series of fresh cuts along his neck. He nearly walked over, to ask what had happened, or to offer help, but before he could, the teacher walked into the room. Soon, he was presented with an English worksheet, and he lost his chance.

He had seen Shigarakis cuts before, but they had never been so bad before. He didn’t know where they came from - scratching, maybe- but he didn't just want to sit there as his classmate was hurting himself. It made him sick, to think he could ever just stand by . . . but he did. That wasn't the behavior of a hero, right? Any hero in training would do something.

But he didn’t. He was just a useless Deku, after all.

He didn’t know much about Toga, but by the way she was staring at Shigaraki before told him she liked him. Had he rejected her during lunch? That would explain why she looked so down, but not why Shigaraki had cut himself.

Midoriya looked down at his paper. He needed to know what had happened. He could just ask, but wasn’t that invasive? Shigaraki hardly knew him, and he hadn't even spoken to Toga yet. Maybe it was best if he just stayed to himself. Didn't get into trouble. He was just a Quirkless loser, anyway. Even if something had happened, he couldn’t fix it, could he?

He really was useless.

He looked down at his worksheet, only half paying attention. His mind was still racing.

He always… wondered about Shigaraki. He was a mystery; nobody knew his parents. Nobody knew where he lived, either; when somebody had tried to follow him home, he had led them into an alley and kicked them until they cried. Nobody had dared to follow him since.

Izuku knew that Shigaraki wasn't nice. He wasn't a bully, of course, but when provoked, he could be nasty. That, and his appearance, had earned him the reputation of a villain-to-be. Or maybe those assumptions were the cause of his behavior?

Izuku was surprised to know that they shared a similar interest. That was… concerning? Curious? He didn’t know.

Something was compelling his classmate to harm himself, and Izuku wanted to help. But… he didn’t know how.

He suddenly realized that he hadn’t answered a single problem, and began writing, his mind still wandering.

Finally, as the day was about to end, the teacher pulled out a stack of papers.

“Now,” he said, calling the class’ attention. “I’m supposed to hand out these career apprehension sheets, but don't think that's necessary.”

He threw the papers into the air, discarding them with a flourish.

“I assume you ALL want to be heroes, huh?”

The class cheered, and chaos temporarily broke out as quirks manifested around the room. Izuku raised his hand sheepishly, but was immediately forced to duck as a large rock flew through the air and crashed through the nearby window.

“Now, now, You all have amazing Quirks, but you aren't allowed to use them in class,” the teacher called out, slightly panicked.

“I’m not,” came a slight mutter from nearby. However, another voice cut through the noise, louder than anything else.

“Hah! Don't lump me in with these extras,” Kacchan yelled, grinning with his feet up on his desk. “All their useless quirks have no chance of getting them into U.A! In fact, I’m going to be the first from this damned school to get into U.A, ya hear me!?”

The teacher let out a nervous chuckle and nodded.

“Ah, that's right, you were aiming for U.A, weren't you? You and Midoriya.”

The room froze.

And everyone turned towards Izuku.

He put his head into his arms, avoiding eye contact and trying to seem like he wasn't there. The teacher had to have done that on purpose, right? He knew that the staff at Aldera didn’t like him, but… well, it was a bit far to set up a student like that, right?

But he was Quirkless. So he doubted anyone would care to stop something like that.

Bakugou spoke up first, a slight snarl in his voice.

“Really, Deku? You think you're gonna get into U.A? You don't even have a Quirk! Good grades alone can't get you into the hero course, ya know! They don't even accept Quirkless students!”

Everyone began laughing. Howling. Cackling. The sound filled the room, like pressure building in an aluminum can.

“I- they got rid of that rule, though,” Izuku stammered, shrinking into himself even more. “There just isn’t any precedent…”

The bell rang, and Izuku frantically started gathering up his things, desperate to leave and save himself from any further embarrassment. He was going to get into the U.A, he just had to work harder, right? Harder than everyone else . . . he didn’t need a Quirk.

He didn't. He didn't.

But as he reached for his final notebook, Katsuki grabbed it from his desk, smirking cruelly, and looked over the cover.

“What is this . . . ‘Hero Notes for the Future’? Hah!”

Izuku reached for it, but Katsuki held it out of his reach and laughed.

“You don’t really think you can be a hero, do you? This is a joke, right, Deku!?”

He shook the notebook and opened it, flipping through the pages roughly before snapping it shut.

“Kacchan-”

“You know,” Katsuki said, ignoring Izuku entirely, “considering you don't need this, I might as well…”

Bakugou summoned an explosion, scorching the notebook, and flung it out of the window.

“No!”

Izuku ran over and looked out the window, seeing his notebook floating in the koi pond, scorched and its pages inevitably ruined.

Shit, shit, shit! Why would he do that? It wasn't like Izuku could do anything to knock him down from his spot at the top, so what the hell was the point?

“Listen here, Deku,” Bakugou exclaimed. “I'm gonna be the first from this shitty school to get into UA, hear me?! You'd better stop, before you get hurt, useless Deku!”

“Leave him alone!”

Izuku looked up, shocked. Nobody had ever tried to defend him before. Why would she- 

Himiko Toga stomped straight up to Bakugou with an uncharacteristically straight face and jabbed her finger into his nose, causing the boy to stumble back slightly.

“You're an asshole, you know! I thought you were funny before, but you're just being a piece of shit, aren't you,” she snarled, fangs showing.

“You shut up, freak!”

Toga's eyes grew cold, and her fists clenched by her side.

“Repeat that?”

Katsuki grit his teeth and stepped towards her angrily.

“I told you to shut the fuck up, bitch!”

Izuku stepped forward, but couldn't think of anything to say. This was obviously escalating, but he had no idea how to stop it… because he couldn't. Of course he couldn't.

Why was she even defending him? Didn't she have anything better to do?

Toga glared at Katsuki for a count of five, before she finally spoke again.

“No.”

And then she lunged , slamming Bakugou's face into a desk and throwing him into the ground. He retaliated with a sharp kick, only for Toga to step backwards, a sudden look of horror in her eyes.

“Oh… I didn’t… shit …”

She stared at Bakugou as he stood, growling, but looking confused. He was holding his nose, which was bleeding heavily.

Toga covered her nose and mouth, and stepped back. Bakugou only watched her, angry and confused, but Izuku could see curiosity in there as well.

“Come at me,” he snarled, wiping blood from his face. “You wanna go? Let's go! What's the holdup, bitch?”

A million thoughts seemed to pass over Toga's face, before she lowered her hand, stood up straighter, and snarled , her face split into a sharp-toothed grin.

“Well, now that I’ve fucked myself over, I guess I don't need to worry anymore, huh?”

She lunged again, aiming a kick for Bakugou’s face, only for her leg to be stopped dead by a gloved hand. Shigaraki pushed her leg upwards, causing her to fall onto her butt, and thrust his other hand into Bakugou's face.

“Throw one more punch and I kill you both,” he said flatly, his raspy voice as uncaring as ever. One look at his eyes, however, betrayed his anger.

Bakugou scowled.

“You think I can’t kick this girl's ass!? Don't look down at me, Kusatta!”

Shigaraki glared at him directly and deliberately placed his index finger onto his face, just below his eye. Katsuki froze.

“If you get caught fighting, no doubt you won’t be able to get into U.A. Same if people knew how you treat Midoriya.”

He lowered his hand, walked over to his desk, and picked up his bag.

“Play nice,” he rasped.

And with that, he walked away.

Bakugou glared at Toga, who still sat dazed on the floor, and then at Izuku. He stomped towards him, and Izuku stepped backwards, only to be stopped dead by the wall.

Shit.

Bakugou glared at him for a moment, close enough that Izuku could smell the burnt-caramel scent of his quirk, and then, with a scoff, stomped away.

“Useless Deku . . .”

Izuku let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and, after picking up his books, realized that Toga was still struggling to stand. He dropped his books and quickly rushed over to offer a hand.

“Are you alright? Kacchan didn’t hurt you, did he?”

She shook her head, took his hand, and he hauled her onto her feet.

Christ, she's heavy , he thought. What was she eating, rocks?

“I’m fine. I should be asking you that,” she said. “He isn’t the nicest, is he?”

Izuku scratched the back of his head.

“Kacchan can be . . . abrasive.”

She nodded, a thoughtful look on her face.

“I can tell. And the other one?”

Izuku was lost for a moment.

“Uh . . . I’m sorry, I don't-”

“The fast one. Who stopped my kick,” she clarified.

“Oh, Shigaraki?” Izuku responded. “I don't know him well, actually . . . he doesn't talk much.”

Toga rubbed her head, hummed, and stood up straighter.

“Ah . . . well, thanks for helping me up, Deku!”, she said, suddenly becoming far cheerier.

“T- thats not-”

She ran out of the room before Izuku could finish.

She seemed excited about something , he thought, feeling slightly out of it.

Izuku walked out of the room and began making his way home.

His mind was racing. He felt… floaty and thin, almost. Like a ghost. He needed to process everything that had just happened. 

Kacchan had fought someone. Sure, he had seen him attack people before, but it was usually over before it began. Toga had actually hit him. He wondered if her Quirk gave her cat-like agility. She certainly seemed catlike.

And then Shigaraki had easily stopped the fight. Usually, he was quiet. Of course, if somebody ever started a problem with him, he could become nasty quickly; Izuku had seen that himself. But usually, he never purposefully put himself in a bad situation.

And the way he had thrust his hand into Bakugous’ face, as if that alone was a sufficient threat. It was clear that his quirk had something to do with his hands, or he wouldn’t wear those gloves everyday. Maybe it was specifically about his fingers; the gloves left only two of his fingers exposed.

But most importantly, he was thinking about himself.

When Kacchan confronted him, he couldn’t do anything about it. He had done nothing but stammer and beg. Two people who didn’t even know him had stopped the confrontation.

Was he really that pathetic? That he had raised the pity of not one, but two strangers?

But no . . . the way Toga had confronted Bakugou told a different story. She had seen something bad happening, and moved to stop it. That was something a hero would do, right? All Might, or any other hero, would never let someone get away with something he knew was wrong.

So that's why Kacchan was wrong. Izuku could be a hero! He just needed to be more like All Might, right? He wouldn’t let anything get in his way!

Izuku smiled, his spirits lifted. That was right! He had a chance, and Bakugou was wrong. Being a hero was about more than just being strong, right?

He raised his fist into the air while he walked under an overpass, a grin on his face.

“That's right,” he said to himself. “I’m gonna get into UA, that's for sure!”

Suddenly, a voice, gruff and wet, spoke up, and a shadow loomed over him.

“You wanna get into UA, huh, kid?”

Izuku turned, to see a viscous, slime-like man looming over him, teeth and bloodshot eyes the only solid parts of his body.

The mutant laughed and moved closer, looming even farther over him. Izuku stepped back.

“Almost makes me feel bad about this… but a medium sized body like yours? Innocent looking, too… it's a perfect fit!”

Izuku realized what was happening a moment before it happened.

The villain lunged, and Izuku was enveloped in his thick, viscous slime, which forced its way into his nose and mouth, cutting off his airway, and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe and was he really going to die like this?

“Don’t worry kid. Just give me 45 seconds, and it'll all be over . . .”

No no nonononononononono this couldn't be happening-

Izuku's lungs screamed for air, and he clawed at the liquid, but it only formed back into place, slowly, slowly pushing into his body, and god he could feel it behind his eyes -

The world suddenly grew muffled and the villain shoved his way into Izuku's ears, his ears popped painfully, his head was aching, he could feel that horrible liquid pushing its way into his gut-

And then, just as he thought he would die, a voice, booming and powerful, rang out.

“Texas . . . SMASH! ”

Suddenly, he was free, and he could breathe, and there was somebody in front of him, someone who looked an awful lot like-

All . . . Might?

And everything went dark.

 

---

 

When Izuku came to, it was because he was being repeatedly slapped by a large, calloused hand.

“Ah, there you are, young man! I was beginning to worry!”

The world was spinning around him so rapidly that he could hardly sit up correctly. What had just happened? He had been walking, and… shit, he left his notebook in the koi pond…

But why had he fainted? He was walking, and… there was a villain, and then there was… All… Might?

Izuku finally processed what was in front of him.

And he screamed.

“Oh my god, oh my god, you’re All Might!”

He scrambled to his feet, feeling like he would vibrate out of his skin and then some. He was in front of All Might . He had been saved by All Might!

“Oh my god, I've always wanted to meet you! You're my favorite hero ever! Thank you so, so, so, so, so much!”

All Might chuckled and stood up straight, his iconic smile on his face.

“It’s no problem, young man. But now, I really must go!”

A thought entered Izuku's head.

The villain. The villain, where is the villain?

“Wait, what about- the- what about the-”

All Might pulled two bottles full of green goop from his pockets, and Izuku's mouth snapped shut.

“Do not worry! I have apprehended the evildoer!”

But Izuku had already moved on to the next thing, because if All Might was here, then…He looked around frantically, where was it, he needed to- and there it was.

“Wait, can you-!”

He picked up his bookbag, only to reveal that All Might had already signed the front, in thick black marker.

He screamed again, loud enough to hurt his throat

“THANK YOU SO MUCH! I'LL KEEP IT FOREVER! IT'LL BE A FAMILY HEIRLOOM!”

All Might gave him a thumbs up. His smile looked… almost strained?

“It's always nice to meet a fan! But now, I really must leave.”

“W-wait-! But I have so many things I need to ask you-,” Izuku said frantically.

“I'm sorry, but I simply must go!”

There was a new intensity to All Might's voice. Almost… panic? No, Izuku was imagining it. There was no way All Might could be panicked .

“Wait, please!”

“Thank you for all your support!”, All Might shouted, and leapt into the air, leaving Izuku behind…

Or at least, he would have, had the green haired boy not latched onto his leg and held on like his life depended on it. Which… it did.

The wind was horrible . It was like someone had aimed 30 of the world's strongest fans at his face with the intent of tearing off his skin. He was sure he had left his stomach, heart, and most of his other organs behind. It was like being on a roller coaster, only one thousand times worse .

“Wha- Young man! Let go of my leg,” All Might exclaimed, shaking his leg vigorously. That only made the nausea worse.

“I-if I let go now, I'll die!”, Izuku shouted, feeling like his face would tear off at any moment.

“Alright, alright! At least close your eyes and mouth!”

Izuku did as he said, and found that he felt less like his face was tearing off when he did. Why hadn't he done that before?

A few moments later, All Might landed on top of an office building, and Izuku fell from his leg and rolled, gasping, to a stop. After taking a moment to breathe and rebalance himself, he stood up, finding that he was surrounded by smoke, unable to see anything around him.

“Hello? All Might? W-what happened?”

Where did all the smoke come from? Or… was it steam? Where was All Might?

Slowly, the smoke cleared, revealing a skeletal blonde man, who was struggling to stand.

“Wha- what? Who are you? What happened to All Might!?”

The man finally managed to stand, and, after coughing heavily for a few moments, spoke.

“Damnit… thought I had more time… you weren’t supposed to see this.”

They turned towards Izuku.

“Young man… I am All Might.”

As he spoke, blood dripped from his mouth.

Izuku recoiled and nearly fell over, shocked. No way .

“Wha- no! You can’t be, All Might is all big and strong, and you look like you're about to die!”

The man sighed and sat down.

“I am about to die, young man.”

“I- I don't understand! I mean, you can’t be… you must be an impostor or something!”

The skeletal man looked down at himself and sighed.

“Like I said, I am All Might. You know how guys at the pool will suck in their stomachs to try to look buff? It's like that.”

Izuku stared in horror. No, no, this was obviously a lie…

But, looking at him, Izuku had to admit that there were some similarities. His hair was the same shade of blonde, even though it was in a different style… he was wearing the same clothes as before, too; a white t-shirt and khakis.

And his eyes…

Now that he looked, Izuku couldn't lie to himself. This man looked nothing like All Might, but when Izuku looked at him… All Might was all that he could see.

“But . . . why are you so… thin?”

All Might lifted up his shirt in response, revealing a mass of red scar tissue nearly enveloping his entire torso in a strange spiderweb pattern.

“This is why. 11 years ago, a villain did this to me. Now, I can only do hero work for about an hour a day.”

Izuku thought for a moment. 11 years ago…?

“11 years ago? Was that the fight with Inferno?”

All Might let out a single bitter laugh.

“That scumbag? She was tough, but she could never do something like this. This was from someone else. A fight that only a few know about.”

All Might stood, somehow just as powerful-looking as before he had transformed.

“Don’t tell anybody about this. Ever. Don't even talk about it online. Very few people know about this, only my closest colleagues… and a girl about your age.”

A girl my age?

“All Might, I still-”

“Had something to ask me? I really don't have the time-”

“All Might, can I be a hero?”

All Might froze.

Izuku looked down at his feet.

“I-I’m very sorry for interrupting you, but I have to know. Can . . . can somebody Quirkless, like me, ever be a hero?”

All Might was silent for a moment.

“You're quirkless, huh . . .”

He was silent for another moment.

“Young man, being a hero is a dangerous job. I'm living proof of that. Without a Quirk . . . It would be very difficult. I won’t say it's impossible, but I highly doubt you could pull it off.”

He looked over at Izuku, a sort of sadness in his eyes. Was that… pity?

Izuku felt a pang in his chest. Was he really that pathetic? Did All Might… really think that?

All Might, of all people, thought that he had no chance… All Might, who always had a smile and a nice word to say…

All Might, his hero…

“There are other ways to help people. Become a police officer. A charity worker. Don’t chase an unachievable dream,” All Might said.

He began walking towards the door.

“There should be service workers up here soon. They'll help you get down.”

And then he was gone.

 

---

 

Izuku walked. 

He didn't even really know where he was going. He just walked, away from that building, away from All Might, away from everything.

He didn't know why he had been so stubborn. He had known. Known that he could never be a hero. So why did it hurt so bad? To hear it. Was he really that deep in denial?

He didn't know what he would do now.  What to work towards. He felt crushed. Kacchan was right all those years, so why had he only accepted the fact now? Why had he lied to himself for so long? Just to avoid confronting the truth?

So he walked. He didn't really know where he was going. He just… walked.

He wanted to be a hero. He wanted to help people, he wanted to save people with a smile on his face, like All Might did… but he couldn’t. Even All Might said it.

…

If that was the kindest thing All Might could think to say, then it was almost definitely true. If he couldn’t be a hero… what else could he be?

The answer, he knew, was nothing. He had spent his whole life fading into the background, a forgettable, useless Deku. Why would he stop now?

Suddenly, Izuku bumped into someone, snapping him out of his thoughts; a very tall man in a suit. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry,” Izuku said. “I was just-"

Izuku looked up at the man's face and froze.

The man's features seemed to flicker and shift, morphing between a handsome, middle aged man to a hideously scarred monster. Of course, it could just be his quirk, but something about it was…

Wrong. Something about his face was wrong , in a way that Izuku couldn’t articulate in a million years.

The man shook his head and smiled; one face smiled kindly, but the other… the other grinned evilly. Like a predator.

"Don't worry, young man. I doubt someone Quirkless like you could have harmed me, anyway."

Izuku froze, a cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck.

How did he know that?

The man stepped forwards, and Izuku's heart pounded. He could feel fear coating his tongue, his limbs were stuck in place, he felt like he was dying all over again-

"Yes, I know of your condition,” the man said. “And I'm here to provide you with the cure."

This was bad. This was dangerous in a way that even the sludge villain wasn't.

"I-I've got to go!", Izuku stammered, turning to run away.

But the man did not let him. He grabbed his arm, pulling, pulling hard , and then there was a horrible, sharp crack .

And then there was pain. A searing, horrible pain, shooting up his arm and bringing him to his knees.

"I didn't say you could leave," the man said, just as calm as before.

"N-no, please! Leave me alone,” Izuku begged. But one look at the man's face, at his horrible, horrible smile, told him that his begging was futile.

The man grinned widely and reached his hand out to grip Izuku's face.

"I'm afraid not. Now... this might hurt."

His calloused hand met Izuku’s skin.

And everything went dark.

Notes:

"'That would be pretty… sounds like a neat way to go out, what with the gore and all.'

…

What?"

 

Girlypop has NO Rizz.

 

as for changes I made

added a scene of Shigaraki interacting with Midoriya. Like in canon, they're parallels here, so I chose to highlight that by giving them similar, but opposite interests (Midoriya studies heroes, Shigaraki studies villains). And, of course, you can now see their initial dynamic instead of me just telling you; they have this sort of awkward acquaintanceship.

Changed the scene of Toga flirting with Bakugou. Now you can tell shes... attempting to flirt.

Changed Bakugou's section a lot actually. You get to see more of his thoughts about Izuku and Tomura; Izuku is an annoying little shit that he just can't shake off, and Tomura is a sort of rival or recurring villain to him; somebody that will return at some point, but inevitably be defeated.

Described Togas bento. Does a lot to characterize her.

Chapter 3: The Storm

Summary:

After Toga had her conversation with Midoriya, she had a goal in mind.

But could Shigaraki and Toga really become friends? Should they?

Notes:

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
Self Harm, Bad Parenting

Tomura was fine with being alone. He had never had a friend, had never wanted or needed one. He was fine with just sticking with his games, his notes and his drawings. After all, who would ever want to be friends with a freak like him?

Well, now he had his answer.

As he walked down the street, silently going over his day in his mind, he suddenly heard an annoying, high-pitched voice calling from behind him.

"Heeeeeeey, wait up!"

Tomura decided not to wait and continued walking. He had dealt with enough already, and he didn’t have it in him to give a fuck about whatever it was that this person wanted.

"Wait, Shigaraki! Wait a sec! I wanted to apologize!”

Apologize?

Against his greater judgment, Tomura turned, confused. Who the hell would want to apologize to him ? Maybe someone was just playing a prank on him…? Or maybe…

Well, maybe someone did want to apologize to him. He supposed it wasn't impossible . But he wouldn’t bet on it.

First, hee registered blonde hair and two messy buns. Then he took in the rest; Aldera school uniform. Catlike, half-dead eyes.

Himiko Toga.

He scoffed and turned back around. She wasn't worth his time, and he had no interest in being mocked. For all he cared, she could find some other sucker to poke fun at. But then again, she had defended Izuku Midoriya, the quirkless boy. Would someone truly malicious do something like that? He had seen how angry she was when she saw Bakugou bullying him. How she had insulted him, attacked him, even. Tomura thought of himself as . . . Not brave. Far from brave. But he thought of himself as combative. And even he hadn't had the nerve to attack Bakugou.

Well, the point was, she was brave, or stupid. And she had a sense of justice. She couldn't be as malicious as he was thinking, right?

And, for all it mattered, she had spurred him into action. So that was to her credit…

So he turned back around, just as the girl rammed into him at full speed.

She fell onto her butt for the second time that day, quickly standing this time.

"Shigaraki! I've been looking for you! I wanted to talk to you!"

God, she was so bright. He felt the sudden urge to throw her off some sort of high structure just so he didn't have to deal with any positivity today. Or ever, actually.

“What the fuck do you want,” he rasped

The girl paused for a moment, taking a moment to collect her thoughts.

"Right! I just wanted to say . . ."

She paused again, which was starting to get annoying. Get on with it, for fucks sake .

"Shigaraki, I'm really sorry I made you upset! I don't mean to be pushy, please forgive me!"

Huh. So she wasn't literally satan, at least. That was a start. Still, Tomura scowled. He didn't trust her for a second; not after her attempt to mock him earlier.

"Why are you wasting my time on this,” he said sharply. “I want nothing to do with you.”

The girl's face became dangerously neutral.

"Well, it would be mean if I didn't apologize. I pissed you off, so now I have to say sorry, right?" 

She huffed out a breath, crossing her arms and pouting slightly. So she was just going to ignore him. Great.

"Speaking of being mean,” she continued, “it's not so nice to just dismiss someone you don't even know, is it?"

She was silent for a moment, staring up at him expectantly. No, demandingly . For fucks sake.

"If you want an apology, you're not gonna get it,” he snapped sharply. “You'd be better off minding your own goddamn business."

He turned to leave, eyes narrowed. Why didn't she get it? He wanted nothing to do with anyone . He wanted to be left alone. Being mocked and poked fun at wasn't exactly on his to-do list for the day.

But she wasn't having it. she grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks, her grip surprisingly strong for someone her size.

"I'll settle for an explanation. Or maybe a shred of humanity? You do have a soul, don't you, Shigaraki?"

He attempted to yank his arm from her grip, teeth gritted, only to discover he couldn't. What was this girl eating?

So that was how it was, then. She would force an answer out of him.

"Alright, fine, I'll explain,” he sniped. “It's because you're annoying . You think you can mock me, but you'd better think again. I'm not gonna sit here and let you fuck with my head, you bitch.”

She giggled and let go of his arm, shaking as she laughed. Tomura felt a pang of shame.

"Oh, god, you really are just insecure, aren't you? You're adorable!"

She pinched his cheeks, and he swatted her hands away, a scowl on his face. What the fuck ?

"Don't touch me,” he snarled, stepping backwards. “And I'm not insecure, I just have no time for you."

"Oh, what are you doing then," she teased, putting her hands on her hips and her weight on one leg. "Feeling bad for yourself? I'm just being friendly!"

What the hell . . . ?

She was insane. He was sure of it. She was fucking insane. Not only did she completely mock him, but now she was trying to play it off? Not just that, but she was demanding that he apologize.

"I'm not sure this is what being friendly looks like,” he said. “Mockery, maybe. Stupidity? I could buy it. But not friendliness."

She rolled her eyes and let out another giggle.

"Like you would know! Nobody likes you, for whatever reason."

He glared. She couldn't be serious. Was she really this fucking stupid, or was he dreaming?

"They don't like me because I'm a villain. Even though I haven't committed a crime-"

You did. Stop lying to yourself.

He ignored his thoughts and continued, clenching his fists by his sides.

"I'm still a villain in the making. That, or I rot somewhere on the streets. Either way, why wouldn't they hate me? I'm disgusting to them."

He began to walk away. He had no patience for this creepy bitch, her mocking behavior, her faux-kindness. He just wanted to be as far away from her and the rest of that awful school as possible. He wanted to be left alone.

He wanted his goddamn hands.

But her voice rang out, uncharacteristically somber and quiet. Somehow, it pulled his attention, despite his attempts to ignore her.

"I know what that's like."

He froze.

What? Did she think he was stupid? That he would fall for this shit? Was she a moron? 

He turned on the spot, fists clenched, teeth grinding against each other.

"What did you just say?"

He glared directly into her eyes, but she hardly seemed to react at all. It was like she was a million miles away. Why did her eyes look so dead ? It was… well, it was unsettling.

She looked down at her feet and shuffled around a bit, her permanent blush growing deeper.

"I know how it feels, for everyone to see you as a villain."

She looked up at him, and her eyes seemed just a little more alive. They were tinged with… shame? Disgust? Both?

"It's because of my quirk. I need to drink blood to activate it, and . . . Well, people don't take kindly to it."

. . .

What?

Tomura felt his fists unclench. Was she serious? Did she actually . . .

"Your quirk . . . needs blood?"

She suddenly looked terrified, but she nodded anyway.

"Yeah. I transform into someone when I drink their blood,” she said quietly. Almost… a whisper.

She couldn't be serious. She couldn't. She didn't understand. She was lying. She had to be lying, she was trying to mock him…

But she didn't seem to be. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to disbelieve her.

" . . . You're serious?"

It wasn't really a question. She must've known that, but she gave a sharp nod..

Tomura couldn't understand. Another person . . . Like him? Someone that people saw as a villain.

What did that mean ? What… what did he think about that?

He didn't know. Unfamiliar emotions were rushing inside of him like waves, but he couldn’t articulate what he was feeling at all.

"Why don't people like you? What's your quirk?"

Tomura was snapped out of his contemplation by her voice.

"My quirk…? Well…"

He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. It was hard to say aloud; he doubted she would judge him, considering what she had just told him. But he couldn't help but be worried. What if she… well, what if she decided that she hated him?

He was quickly drawn into confusion; why did he care if she hated him? Everybody else hated him, so what was the big deal? Unless… had he somehow grown to like her?

He cast that thought away. No. Obviously not.

"It's called Decay,” he muttered. “Whenever I touch something, it's destroyed."

She looked over at him. Nodded.

"I see why they wouldn't like that."

She turned away, seeming to be lost in thought. Eventually, she sighed and spoke again.

"I . . . Well, I've done bad things to satiate my Quirk. People have always said I'll be a villain. But . . . I don't want to be. I want to make sure nothing like this happens again."

She looked back at him with a smile.

"You know what I mean?"

He looked back at her, some spite sparking back in him. Not as much as before, for whatever reason, but still.

"You want to be a hero," he said, a nasty edge in his voice.

Her face fell again.

“Do you not like heroes?”

Tomura scoffed. What sort of question was that?

“Of course not,” he snarled. “Heroes… well, everyone's dependent on heroes now. Nobody knows how to do anything themselves. Whenever something goes wrong, it's heroes this, heroes that! It’s a pointless fucking institution!”

Toga laughed suddenly, shocking Tomura. She had seemed so somber when she asked, but now she was laughing?

"You got passionate about that, huh? I… Well, I agree, but… I want to make the world an easier place to live in. I want to be able to love the way I love! I don't really agree with a lot of things that go on in hero work, but, well . . . It's easier to change something from the inside, I guess. I feel like hero work… it's something I want to do.”

Tomura felt his spite, which had finally begun burning again just a moment ago, quickly vanish. Becoming a hero . . . To make things better? Not just to delay problems and create an over reliance . . .

You couldn't. You're meant to be a villain. Just look at what you did to your-

But . . . He could, couldn't he?

He grit his teeth, shook his head hard, banishing the thoughts. All of them. He wasn't going to be a villain, or a hero. He didn't care. He knew that standing out… it would only get him hurt.

"Sounds like you've got your mind on it," he said dismissively. "Good luck."

He turned to leave, only for Toga to speak up again, sounding panicked.

"Hey, don't just leave, let's talk some more!"

He snorted, still walking.

"I have places to be,” he muttered.

"Aw, cmon, let's be friends! Please?"

He froze again. 

"I can't . . . What?"

He must’ve misheard.

She bounded up to him and grabbed his arm from behind. She was shaking, he noticed.

"Please? Let's be friends, let's be heroes together! You're the first person I've met who's like me! I… I don't want to be alone, especially when you’re right here!”

Tomura stared at nothing in particular.

Being a hero? With… a friend?

He didn't need friends. He didn't. He was fine on his own. But why did he want to say yes? 

He scratched at his neck, feeling his skin tear but not caring. He wanted to say yes. Just to know. What was it like to have friends? Was it as nice as everyone made it seem?

You don't need anyone, Tomura. You can do it by yourself.

Do . . . what?

You know what.

…

He didn't need her. It wasn't like he would drop dead if he said no. But… he wanted to say yes. He wanted to be friends with her, he wanted to know what that meant. And… what he wanted seemed so important, at the moment. 

Sure, he wouldn’t die if he said no, but if he abandoned this opportunity, who was to say he would ever get another chance? He wanted to be friends with her… and he felt like the alternative, being alone, wandering mindlessly towards the future… that was as good as death.

Tomura banished a thought. Not all of them. Just . . . one.

"I . . . sure. Let's be . . . friends."

Toga began jumping around, squealing, swinging her arms

"OH MY GOD, I MADE A FRIEND!"

She grabbed his arm and began dragging him behind her, bouncing and giggling all the while. Was this normal? It couldn't be, right? She was way too weird for him to make any sort of judgment, and… well, it wasn't like he would know.

"Let's go do something friends do, like . . . Go shopping! That's something friends do! "

Yeah, this wasn't normal. She was just as clueless as him.

He scraped at his neck, cringing in pain as a strip of his skin finally gave way under his jagged nail, scraping away from his flesh. He held his hand to the wound, hissing under his breath.

He needed his fucking hands.

"Wait, before we go, I need to get . . . something from my house."

She bounced up and down in excitement, a wide grin that showed off her fangs splitting her face.

"Can I come? Please, pretty please?"

  Friends went over to each other's houses, right? But then again, he wasn't particularly well off . . . But, somehow, he doubted she would care.

"I . . . guess. If you want to?"

She squealed and did a little dance, holding her hands up to her face.

"Let's go! Which way, which way?"

Tomura began to lead her, and she continued talking, filled with a sort of infectious energy that had even Tomura feeling slightly more excited.

"So, where do you live? Is it an apartment? I live in one too! I saw Bakugou yesterday, actually, he lives near me!"

Shigaraki crossed a street, giving a hesitant nod.

"It's an apartment. It's… not much."

She skipped across the street behind him, grinning widely before she spun in front of him and began walking backwards.

"What about your parents? Are they nice?"

Tomura stiffened. Of course it would come to this. This is what friends did, right? Exchange information to "bond". What had he expected?

"Can we avoid this subject? Please?"

Would that work? Just asking her to stop? Or would she insist on it? What would he do then?

"Oh, okay! I get it,” she said, seemingly unbothered.

. . .

Well, it didn't seem to be an issue. For some reason. They continued to walk, in silence now.

Shit, had he pissed her off? Should he have just given a bullshit answer? 

No. No, he wouldn’t think about that. He wouldn’t drive himself insane worrying about nothing.

…

Unless it was something. Shit. He was still worrying.

Eventually, they arrived in front of the door of Tomuras apartment, and, fishing out his keys, unlocked his door.

"Wait here,” he said. “I'll be back in a second."

He walked into the house, breathing a sigh of relief. Finally, he could relax. He could take a moment to… well, process, he supposed.

However, Toga walked in right behind him, not even seeming to notice his discomfort.

"Why would you leave me out there? Do you know what they do to pretty girls like me when we're out alone?"

Tomura shivered, some dark, cold memory running down the back of his neck before suddenly being squashed down.

Too well. You know too well.

Tomura remained silent for a tiny moment, gathering himself, before speaking again.

“Well, I guess it's fine…”

The main area of the apartment was simple; to the right was the living room, where a small flatscreen TV was mounted onto a wall next to the apartment's only window. Across the room from it, facing the door, was an old leather chair. In the chair sat Kakari Fuhai, Tomura’s extremely old caretaker, who seemed to be fast asleep.

To the left was the kitchen, which was small and cramped; there was an old gas stove, which only seemed to work 50% of the time, a microwave, and an air fryer, which had only been used twice, according to Tomuras memory. Directly ahead was the short hallway that led to the bathroom and the two bedrooms.

Toga gave a quiet gap.

“"Is that your grandmother? She's so cute!”

Tomura quickly shushed her.

“Be quiet, before-”

The old woman suddenly stood from the old, torn leather chair, a strained grin on her face.

"Tomura! Is this your girlfriend? I knew you had to start socializing eventually! I'm so proud!”

Then she coughed awkwardly.

“Though I hope you weren’t trying to sneak her past me…?”

Tomura tried hard not to roll his eyes. He knew that she was just putting on a mask for Toga's sake. Fuhai… wasn’t exactly the worlds best caretaker. He knew that; she had a temper. She had expectations . Expectations that he could never hope to reach.

Toga squealed, her permanent blush suddenly bright red.

“Hi, I'm Himiko Toga, and I'm his-"

Tomura punched her in the side with a not insignificant amount of force, a scowl on his face.

"Acquaintance. She's an acquaintance. Toga, this is my foster parent. Not my grandmother. Fuhai, Toga and I are going out to . . ."

He realized he had no idea what exactly they planned to do, and looked at Toga for support. She just shrugged and rubbed her side where he had hit her.

This friendship thing was looking less and less appealing by the second… and yet, he was still here.

" . . . I actually have no clue," he finished lamely. "I just dropped by to get something, and she decided to follow me."

Kakari winced, and Tomura could practically smell the incoming tirade.

She hated his family. 

No, his hands. They were remains, they had said. Something that needed to be discarded. He could never bring himself to hand them over, but the least he could do was try to detach the two in his mind.

She hated his hands . She hated that he had them, was disgusted that he was so attached to them, and was absolutely horrified that he wore them. He couldn't blame her. But he needed them. He was extraordinarily lucky he was allowed to keep them in the first place, and the idea of losing them . . .

It made him feel sick to his stomach.

And then she said it.

"Shouldn't… shouldn't we get rid of those?"

And suddenly, he felt sick. Nauseous, the room spinning around him. He choked something out, meant to tell Toga to stay where she was. It must've come across that way, luckily, because she didn't move as he made a beeline for his room.

He struggled to open his door, the room spinning wildly around him, hands struggling to gain purchase on the handle, and, eventually, he flung it open. The door slammed shut behind him, and he scrambled wildly, clumsily, to grab the box stashed under his bed, scraping, scraping, scraping at his neck all the while, all until he picked up the first hand and practically shoved it onto his face.

He breathed deeply, taking in the familiar, comforting scent of chemicals and dust and rot. Finally, He couldn't bring his family to school, but now, after a full day of nausea and stress, it was exhilarating to be free of it all. He scratched at his neck with one hand and his arm with the other, taking comfort in the slight release of itchiness and the burn and sting of torn skin. The pain was grounding. Reminding him of the physicality of the world around him

His breathing began to slow, and he brought his hands down from his neck. He stared down at his hands, blood dripping from his fingers, fingernails chipped, with blood and skin underneath.

Shit.

He placed the rest of his hands onto his body, taking solace in the cold stiffness of the old keepsakes, and finally stood.

In the world of quirks, nothing was too weird to accept. From far away, he appeared to have a strange mutation, and those who were more observant generally assumed the hands were a form of support gear. He didn't bother to correct them.

He looked around the room, taking in the mess around him. Bags of candy, wrappers, papers, notebooks and books and games .

Scattered around his room, some in piles, some on shelves, some just thrown around, were hundreds of games, all bought with his own money. Metroidvanias, First Person Shooters, RPGs, puzzle and horror and open worlds and platformers. Each had their place on his shelves, but he had never been able to find the energy to put them all away. Now he was suffering the consequences.

He took a shaky breath as he reached for the bandages he kept at his bedside, wrapping his neck tightly. 

Alright. One thing at a time. Step one: get out of these bloody rags.

He flung open his closet, only for a pile of clothes to practically knock him over as they fell. 

God, his room was a mess.

 

---

 

Himiko paced awkwardly, biting her nails as she waited for Shigaraki to exit his room. It had been quite a while, and she was starting to get worried, to put it lightly. Had she done something wrong already? He was the first friend she had in a long time, if ever. Was she bad at this?

Well, they weren't really friends yet. That required a lot of bonding that they hadn't done yet. But she wanted to be his friend, so it was only natural to be concerned, right? She had considered going in, but had decided not to disturb him. If he wanted to be alone, that was his business. And nobody else's.

She was beginning to regret that decision.

Kakari had sat back in her chair, staring at Shigaraki's door with a mix of worry and revulsion. What the hell was he doing in there to make her look so grossed out? She obviously had some idea, but she wasn't talking.

Or maybe Himiko was misreading the situation. It wasn't like she was entirely in her right mind; she felt floaty and out of it. She hid it well, and it wasn't like it was enough to render her completely drugged out, but she couldn’t quite think straight. Couldn't focus, either; the entire school day was a blur now, save for lunch, and that fight at the end. It was definitely possible that she was misreading the situation. The fucking meds always made her loopy, so it wouldn't be suprising…

… speaking of not thinking straight, she suddenly realized that Samuel and Tetsukira had no idea where she was. She was supposed to be at home, but she had gotten so excited to meet a new friend that she completely forgot.

She sighed and pulled out her phone, prepared to send a text message. Her phone was old and slow, and she was really only supposed to use it for texts and calls; there were no games, no social media apps. Not even the cute horror movie wallpaper she had wanted; Samuel had made her choose some generic beach wallpaper.

As she began typing her message, Samuel sent her a text.

 

Samuel: Toga, where are you? You were supposed to be home 15 minutes ago.

 

Toga sighed and began typing a response.

 

Toga: sprry, i mad a friend

 

Toga: i shuld hv asked b4 goin out

 

She silently admonished her spelling; she felt like her fingers weren't listening to her at all. The ellipses that indicated that Samuel was typing appeared, and she began holding her breath without fully realizing.

 

Samuel: I'll let it go this time, but it better not happen again.

 

Samuel: Be back by 8:00. And check your spelling next time.

 

Toga: Okay.

 

She let go of her breath, turned off her phone, and slid it into her pocket. She was safe. For now.

She looked over at Kakari, who was looking just as disgusted and worried as before.

…

No. no, it was definitely worry, she decided. What was going on?

She turned to the old lady and began talking, concern coloring her voice.

"Uh… Ms. Kakari? Do… do you know what he's doing in there? You look… concerned."

Fuhai was taken aback by the sudden question, and it took her a moment to come up with a response. A moment that Himiko was willing to wait out.

After a moment's silence, broken only by the older woman's heavy, shaky breathing, contrasted with Himiko's steadier breaths, Fuhai spoke again.

"He has… these hands. Keepsakes. His family's remains."

Himiko's eyes widened.

What in the actual fuck?

She wasn't necessarily disturbed by the hands, really. Everyone had their own way of dealing with things, and she had seen, done, far worse than keep embalmed hands. But the idea that he was an orphan . . . That was disturbing to her. She didn't like her parents. Couldn't stand her siblings. She wanted nothing to do with them. Wanted them dead, sometimes. No, often. But the idea of losing your whole family to something beyond your control . . .

That was awful. 

  ". . . What happened?"

Fuhai swallowed deeply.

"His quirk manifested, and . . . They died in the aftermath."

. . .

Holy fucking shit.

Toga put her hand over her mouth, shocked, horrified , as she gathered her thoughts.

Accidentally killing your whole family was more than traumatizing. It was a complete destruction of someone's mental state. That wasn't something you could just walk off .

A lot of things about Shigaraki suddenly made a lot of sense. The lack of trust. The insecurity.

"But . . . why is he taking so long?,” she asked shakily.

Kakari stared at her feet for a long, long moment.

"He wears them on his body, and-"

Toga could tell she was dodging the question, but… why? What did she know that scared her so badly?

"Ms. Kakari… please, tell me whats going on. I want to help him.”

Fuhai grit her teeth, staring down at her feet. Her breathing quickened, her fists clenched . . .

And then she spoke.

"Sometimes, he... he hurts himself."

Togas blood ran cold as ice.

Hurt himself?

Hurt… himself?

She had noticed the scratches at his neck earlier, but she hadn't thought much about it. She assumed it was from something else . . . Or maybe she was just in denial.

And then, suddenly, there was rage .

"YOU KNEW? WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU FUCKING DO SOMETHING ?"

She grabbed the woman by the collar and yanked her out of her chair, ignoring the terror on her face.

"YOU'RE HIS FUCKIN CARETAKER! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF HIM , YOU OLD HAG,” she screamed, her blood boiling.

The woman held up her hands in surrender, shaking violently.

"He's… he's disturbed, he’s not normal-"

Normal.

She wanted him to be… Normal?

"Not… normal?"

Her voice was ice cold, and Kakari froze entirely in its chill.

“You…,” Himiko snarled, “You can’t force him to be Normal . What the hell does Normal even mean, huh? Do you really think he's some sort of accessory ?”

She flung the woman onto the floor, and she didn't even cry out. She just lay there, looking shocked.

"You, go fuck off somewhere,” Himiko hissed. “I'll check on him."

She stomped towards the boys room, putting her hand on the handle and pausing for a moment. Was this really okay? She sighed. Of course it was. She wasn't going to let him hurt himself further.

She pulled on the doorknob, only to find that it was locked. She pulled a hairpin from her head and began to pick the lock, biting her lip in concentration.

Finally, the lock clicked and she slammed the door open, her anger back in full swing.

"TOMURA SHIGARAKI-"

She closed her mouth in shock as she looked around the room.

For some reason, she had assumed his room would be a total mess, but it was spotless, filled with a pleasant, sweet smell, reminiscent of chocolate. He had an impressive collection of games on either side of the room, neatly packed into shelves, alphabetized and sorted by genre, a nearly kept bed, with plain black sheets and covers. Actually, everything was black. A black console, with black controllers. Black walls and ceiling. Black bed frame and pillows. Black shelves and bed stand. 

"What the hell…?"

She would expect at least some misplaced clothes, or stains on the carpet, but his room was truly spotless.

Suddenly, Shigaraki stepped out of his closet, and Himiko nearly had a heart attack. It was like a dream come true, or maybe her worst nightmare.

For one, he was covered in blood, the beautiful, crimson liquid sleeping from the bandages on his neck, dripping onto his chest and shoulders and arms, the delicious scent of blood filling the air. And, for two, he was completely shirtless, and he wasn't shrimpy like she expected. Instead, he was composed of lean, defined muscle, and she could see how he had been so fast to stop her kick before she could even see him coming.

On the other hand, he was covered in blood, clearly hurt, and his bandages were already spent.

"SHIGARAKI!"

She stomped towards him and smacked him across the face. Hard.

"You listen to me, Tomura Shigaraki! If you hurt yourself one more fucking time, I am going to kill you, and you won't ever be able to do that shit again, bitch! Got it?"

Tomura put his hand to his face and slowly turned his head back towards her. She stepped back in fear when she saw his glare, a pair of red, horrid eyes glaring from behind the hand on his face.

"We just met today. You don't give me orders. You're lucky I chose to humor you."

She glared back at him.

"You better get your head out of your ass! Let me make this clear: I'm not giving you a choice! Look at yourself!"

"I'm fine ," he snapped.

"No, you aren't! Your bandages are already soaked, and- where are they? Where the hell are the bandages?"

Tomuras glare grew even colder, somehow.

"Like I'd tell you ."

However, Toga noticed that he held his hands behind his back, and immediately lunged for his arm.

"Give those to me! Now!"

"Don't fucking touch me!"

Shigaraki swung out one of his arms, extending a gloved hand to make the threat clear, but Toga wasn't deterred, yanking his other arm from behind his back and snatching the bandages from him.

She brandished the bandages like a weapon, holding them up to his face as she spoke.

"Now, you sit there in front of that fucking armchair, and I'll bandage you properly, and if you don't, I'm going to peel of the rest of your goddamn skin, got it?"

Shigaraki reached to take the bandages from her, only for her to hold it out of his reach and shove him, causing him to fall directly in front of his armchair.

"Now," she said, climbing into the armchair behind him, "Let me patch you up, or else."

Shigaraki tried to stand, but Toga grabbed his shoulder and forced him back down.

" Sit ."

He made a sound like a growl, and forced himself up.

"I'm not doing this-"

She simply kicked the inside of his knees, and he collapsed.

"Please? Pretty please?"

"No!"

She forcibly tore the bandages from his neck, and he yelled out.

"Your fault! You get what you deserve, now sit! I don't want to see you hurt!"

He paused for a long moment, seeming to think, and then groaned and sat properly.

She began to tightly wrap his wounds, making sure it was all thoroughly covered. His bleeding had stopped while they were arguing, but the wounds were still open.

She spoke as she worked, trying to distract him from the poking and prodding, and herself from the beautiful, now dried, blood.

"Shigaraki… why did you do this?"

He winced, either from the pain, or from not wanting to answer the question. But after a moment, he spoke, his voice no longer angry, just… tired.

"I like how it feels, it's… it's better than the itch. It hurts, but it feels so much better then… everything else. Makes the world feel real."

Himiko was silent for a moment.

"Shigaraki, you said we're friends now, right?"

He silently nodded.

"I don't think friends let each other do stuff like that,” she said. “Please, don't hurt yourself."

He nodded silently in confirmation.

She smiled at him, finishing the bandages.

"That's good. I'm done, okay? Are we still going out?"

He stared at his hands.

After a moment of silence, he stood.

"Let me get cleaned up.”

She watched, blushing slightly more than usual, as he left the room.

Maybe he wasn’t as hopeless as she had thought. Maybe they really could be friends.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to be so alone.

 

---

 

Fumikage Tokoyami was watching a murder take place.

The bird-headed boy had to crane his neck to see over the shoulders of the others in the crowd, but what little he could see was horrifying. Flames spreading, screaming, sludge flying violently, and in the middle of it all… a boy. About his age, with spikey blonde hair. Struggling valiantly against the sludge villains grasp, but failing.

Nobody was doing anything. The heroes on the scene were all helpless; the civilians too scared to step forward.

But somebody had to do something. Somebody .

Fumikage couldn't just stand there. But he was. Useless.

He stepped forward.

“Tokoyami, what are you planning?”

He ignored his quirks question and took a deep breath. In. And out.

Somebody had to do something. He had to do something.

I have no idea.

“Dude!”

Tokoyami started running, shoving through the crowd, diving past the heroes and ignoring their warnings. Straight into danger.

He had to do something.

He couldn't stand there while somebody died.

Not again.

Notes:

The original version of this chapter was so bad
the way I villainized Kakari Fuhai in the OG chapter was ATROCIOUS, especially considering she became much more sympathetic later on. I feel like this chapter does a better job of presenting her character without making her seem outright evil. not much changed, but its the details that matter

other changes uhhhh
Tokoyami's section is way less stilted and serves more than one purpose now. there's a writing tip for you; most scenes serve two or more purposes. In this case, it now hints more heavily at his backstory.

I've also added a scene of Toga texting her caretakers. it makes the world feel more... full? Like these characters have lives beyond the current scene. it also characterizes Samuel more strongly, so when we meet him, it feels built up to.

Chapter 4: Inheritance

Summary:

The sludge villain, and the wreckage left behind.

Notes:

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
Eye Scream, Manipulation, Drawing of Blood, Graphic Depiction of Abuse, Assault, Vomiting, Depiction of Dissociation and Anxiety.

Tomura Shigaraki was watching a murder take place.

He and Toga had been having a conversation, walking to a nearby ice cream place. Tomura told her about his favorite video game, and she had never heard of it. They agreed to play it together. Then she told him all about her favorite anime; she was obsessed with a romantic shoujo. He had heard of it. They talked about it for a while, and he learned that she was a fan of horror manga.

It was surprisingly pleasant. But of course, something had to ruin it. That something being an active crime scene.

They had come across a huge crowd, shouting and fires and explosions filling the alleyway they were crowded around. They shoved their way to the front, and…

There he was. Katsuki Bakugou, struggling against a mass of sludge.

“I knew this was a mistake,” Tomura grumbled. “Of course this would happen. Why the fuck not!”

He began shoving his way back through the crowd, feeling his skin itch from the presence of so many nearby bodies, only for Toga to grab his arm and yank it back.

“This was NOT a mistake, and I’m not turning around! Imagine how much we could rub this in his face!”

Shigaraki glared at the struggling boy ahead of him. To be frank, he couldn’t give less of a fuck what happened to him, as awful as that sounded. But it did sound like some pretty great blackmail. Even so, it wasn’t worth the trouble it would get them in.

He sighed.

“Is it really worth it,” Tomura questioned. “It’s a hero's job to fix this shit, not ours.”

His comment received the response of a sharp  punch to the chest.

“Well, they aren’t doing their jobs! So I guess it's up to us.”

“Toga-”

Suddenly, a shorter, bird headed boy shoved past the two, knocking the hand clear off of Tomura’s face.

“Hey, shithead-!”

He trailed off as the boy dashed past the heroes ahead of the crowd, all of them too shocked to catch up to him by the time his quirk -some shadowy thing- grabbed Bakugou and attempted to tear him from the villains grasp.

Toga bounced on the balls of her feet, practically glowing with excitement, her smile wide enough to look like it hurt.

“Rules are outta the window now,” she shouted. “Let's go!”

“Toga-”

She ignored him entirely, laughing maniacally and scooping up a random bit of shrapnel from the ground. She ran in with surprising speed, avoiding the hero's attempts to catch her with some impressive gymnastics, and plunged the bit of shrapnel directly into the villain's eye.

The man roared in pain as Tomura grabbed his fallen hand, shoved it onto his face, and charged in, ignoring a hero's shouts.

He called out, straining his voice in the attempt to raise it above a talking tone.

“Are you a fucking idiot, Toga? Get back here!”

He couldn’t believe it. First, some random idiot ran in. Then, his idiot friend followed, and now he was chasing after her. He was basically playing hero.

The villain lashed out, slamming Tomura into the wall of the alleyway as it finally released its hold on Bakugou, who immediately scrambled away, desperately gasping for air.

While Tomura caught his breath, groaning in pain, he saw the bird headed boy's quirk swipe with massive claws, only for the goopy villain to ignore it entirely. At the same time, Toga ran forwards, dodging two impressive-looking attacks with ease and plunging her makeshift blade into the mass. The villain hardly seemed to care; they slung a fist-like appendage at her, but she dodged that with ease as well.

Tomura watched, shocked, as she dodged more attacks as if they were barely an inconvenience. Where had she learned to move like that?

A shadowy fist slammed into the villain's good eye, and he roared in pain. The bird-headed boy was half wrestling, half assisting Bakugou, who struggled against him and leaned against him in a stubborn loop. It was almost as if the shadowy quirk could fight entirely independently of its owner. Weird.

Tomura tried to stand, but nearly fell over, pain lacing across his back. A large, liquid appendage flew towards Toga, and she dodged it with laser precision, running in, laughing wildly-

BOOM!

One moment, Toga's makeshift blade was inches away from the villain's eye. The next, there was a horrible, loud blast of wind, forcing Tomura to brace himself against the wall as his ears popped painfully and sludge flew everywhere.

Disgusting pieces of the villain splattered across the alleyway; one glob stuck to Toga’s shoe like glue. Another landed on Bakugou’s face, and he swiped it off with a horrified shriek.

What the fuck had just happened?

But, as Tomura looked up, he saw the answer to his unspoken question. A massive man, blonde hair styled ridiculously, face twisted in a false smile.

All Might.

All Might.

That disgusting piece of shit, that garbage pile of a thing -

Tomura found himself struggling to stand.

Rage pumped through his veins, his blood was nothing but boiling cortisol, so intense he could taste it. The villain was a distant memory now; All Might was here. Mere feet away. Close enough that he could

touch him .

It was nearly instantaneous. One moment, his mind was nothing more than rage and hatred and disgust. The next, the moment that thought crossed his mind, the world came back to him; buzzing and blurry and nauseating, but there.

He slid back down the wall, still unable to move, as the buzzing in his ears slowly faded and voices made themselves known. Heroes, talking. Civilians, chattering along. Panic. He could hear Toga's high voice, excitedly rambling. He could hear Bakugou, gasping and wheezing as if he was still suffocating.

Finally, the buzzing in his ears faded, and a voice became clear to him.

“Can you understand me? Are you alright?”

He looked up at the hero approaching him, a freakishly tall, freakishly muscular man with a red “X” across his chest and a pair of baggy sweatpants, similarly emblazoned. For some reason, he was wearing cat ear headphones… at least, it looked that way. The ears swiveled and glowed at the slightest noise. Hearing aids?

The man paused for a moment, shock on his face. Tomura briefly wondered if his wounds had reopened, but he would have felt that.

He finally fully stood, his feet heavy, and responded.

“I'm fine,” he rasped. “Just a little dizzy.”

The man sighed, looking as if he was trying to remember something. Tomura suddenly realized that he was wearing blush. For some reason, that detail stuck out to him. It seemed… familiar?

“Good, good,” the man said carefully. “Do you realize how irresponsible that was? If you had gotten hurt-”

Tomura scowled, suddenly realizing that a few of his hands had fallen off in the scuffle, scattered across the ground. He walked over, placing them back onto himself, and huffed out a breath of air as his nausea began to pass.

“I wasn’t. So it's not a problem,” he said sharply.

He noticed All Might had vanished. Odd. He expected him to revel in the glory for a while. The hero sighed, bringing his hand to his forehead.

“You do realize you’ll have to speak to a detective, right?”

A long pause.

“Shit.”

Tomura looked around again; Bakugou looked even angrier than usual, shoving away anybody who approached him. He looked like he was going to cry. Tomura didn't feel an ounce of sympathy for him.

Toga had shut down completely at some point; a hero was leading her away, and her eyes were completely dead, her face perfectly neutral. Tomura couldn’t help but wonder about her. She seemed to snap between different emotions with practiced ease. And her fighting skill was… well, unprecedented. Where in the world had she learned to fight like that?

And there was the bird-headed boy, who looked eerily calm about the situation. His quirk, however, flew around wildly. What was up with that?

Tomura sighed. He had a lot of questions. Not many would be answered, he suspected.

He let himself be led away.

 

---

THE FOLLOWING IS A TRANSCRIPT OF A AUDIO RECORDING

 

Background Information:

 

Subject: Tenko Shimura, age 16

Presiding Officer: Jin Riaka

Date: [REDACTED]

Case #: SOAT-1992

 

BEGIN TRANSCRIPT

 

Officer Riaka: Well, then. Let's begin. You say that you were headed to an ice cream chop at the time of the incident?

 

Shimura: Yes.

 

Officer Riaka: Can you tell us what happened next?

 

Shimura: Aren't I supposed to have a [REDACTED] here with me?

 

[A pause.]

 

Officer Riaka: Considering your involvement-

 

Shimura: Where the hell is my [REDACTED]?

 

Officer Riaka: Young man, it would benefit you to answer my questions. Depending on your answers… this could end in many different ways.

 

Shimura: I’m not a fucking criminal. And don't call me “young man”.

 

Officer Riaka: I didn't say you were. Can you tell me what happened next?

 

Shimura: Fine! My… friend and I were going out for ice cream, and we saw the crowd. So we- well, mostly her- went to check it out. We saw a classmate, and she ran in to help him, so I went in after her.

 

Officer Riaka: I see… though, I do find it odd that you and that villain happened to appear at the same time.

 

Shimura: What are you implying?

 

Officer Riaka: Nevermind. Why did you run in after your friend?

 

Shimura: This is moving away from “getting my account of events”.

 

Officer Riaka: We just want to make sure we have all the facts.

 

Shimura: uh huh… well, its because she was being fucking stupid, is why. Decided to play hero, the fucking idiot.

 

Officer Riaka: I see… Well, what happened next?

 

Shimura: I got bitched, is what happened.

Officer Riaka: I see. Well, that would be all, I suppose. Head on home, young man.

 

---

 

THE FOLLOWING IS A TRANSCRIPT OF A AUDIO RECORDING

 

Background Information:

 

Subject: Himiko Toga, age 15

Presiding Officer: Jin Riaka

Date: [REDACTED]

Case #: NIER-2017

 

BEGIN TRANSCRIPT

 

Officer Riaka: Let's get right into it, I suppose… so, you jumped in and attacked the villain. Why was that?

 

Toga: The heroes at the scene were not helping to resolve the situation. He was going to die.

 

Officer Riaka: Are you sure that's the reason? You do have a history of… violence.

 

Toga: I'm aware. But I can assure you that my intentions were entirely altruistic.

 

Officer Riaka: Alright, then… but witnesses claim that you seemed excited at the scene.

 

Toga: I'm afraid that the adrenaline caused me to act irrationally.

 

Officer Riaka: I see. And your friend, Tenko Shimura? Did you convince him to join you?

 

Toga: Who?

 

Officer Riaka: You would know him as Shigaraki, I suppose.

 

Toga: Oh. In that case, no. He attempted to protect me of his own accord.

 

Officer Riaka: And the other boy, Fumikage Tokoyami?

 

Toga: I do not know him.

 

Officer Riaka: Alright. That will be all.

 

---

 

THE FOLLOWING IS A TRANSCRIPT OF A AUDIO RECORDING

 

Background Information:

 

Subject(s): Fumikage Tokoyami, age 14. Dark Shadow, age 10

Presiding Officer: Jin Riaka

Date: [REDACTED]

Case #: SUNL-2008

 

BEGIN TRANSCRIPT

 

Officer Riaka: So. Can you explain to me why you happened to be at the scene?

 

Tokoyami: I was walking home from school.

 

Officer Riaka: From what I understand, your school is very far away from the location of the incident.

 

Tokoyami: I live in the apartments nearby. I take a train in the mornings and walk in the afternoon.

 

Officer Riaka: Why is that?

 

Tokoyami: Train tickets… truly, they add up. Combining forces to take away money, to suck it away from people like a black hole.

 

Officer Riaka: … so, you’re broke- I mean, struggling. Financially.

 

Tokoyami: The delicate art of our lexicon evades you…

 

Officer Riaka: What?

 

Dark Shadow: Nothing.

 

Tokoyami: You were saying?

 

Officer Riaka: Ah… Well, why did you attack the villain? And with your quirk, no less?

 

Tokoyami: That question hardly needs answering. He was attacking someone. Somebody needed to do something .

 

Dark Shadow: And if that something involves beating the shit out of somebody, so be it!

 

Officer Riaka: You are aware that this counts as vigilantism, correct?

Dark Shadow & Tokoyami: Can you prove that Dark Shadow/I didn't act on her/my own?

 

Officer Riaka: ...that will be all.

All Might was thinking. Hard.

The hero was in his smaller form; skeletal and lanky, fragile. He paced with an urgency that he hardly felt outside of his hero work. But it was justified. Because he was unsure, now.

He had been in that crowd, watching as the villain attacked. He had watched, but done nothing. Not until those kids had jumped in.

He had heard the blonde and pale-haired kid talking, having been just a few feet away. He had seen the male- the handsy one- try to walk away. He had heard the acrobat insist on saving the victim; out of a desire for revenge, yes, but also because nobody else would.

It was a strange dichotomy; they were both selfish. He had seen that. But she had charged in, and he had followed. Did she just want a fight? Maybe. But something in her had wanted to help. Some part of her was genuinely heroic. But the handsy boy, he charged in with her name on his tongue. He hadn't put himself in danger for the victim. He had done it for his friend.

But… there was something heroic about that, too. Right?

…

Tenko Shimura still had the hands. He still hadn’t let go. He still-

No. Not now. He had other things to think about. Tenko Shimura, her grandson… Toshinori couldn't linger on that. It would tear him apart from the inside.

Do something about it. Help him.

Being near him would rip him to shreds.

Toshinori sighed. There was somebody else there. The third kid.

He had gone over the case files. His name was Tokoyami Fumikage. His quirk was called Dark Shadow.

He had a bad history.

But when he had seen him, he saw none of that. He saw somebody who ran in and did something. Not to hold it over somebody's head. And, though it was noble to an extent, he didn’t do it just to protect his friend. Tokoyami had acted because he needed to act .

Somebody needed to do something.

Where had he heard that before?

From her . But it was still different. She had ran in, saved him, but she wasn’t in danger.

Tokoyami had flung himself into certain death to protect someone. And he had walked away without a single scratch.

Toshinori made his decision. And he wouldn't, couldn't come back from this, he knew it. But he knew it was the right choice.

All Might turned to the girl.

“You should go home.”

She tilted her head, but her facial expression never changed. She brought her finger to her chin.

“But we haven't done any training… well, I guess. Next Monday, then?”

A pause.

“No.”

She raised her eyebrow imperceptibly.

“Oh. Then when?”

All Might turned away from her, shame burning in his chest.

“Never.”

 

---

 

Izuku woke to bright, blinding light. White flooded his vision, spots floating across his vision and blurring everything into an endless sheet of white . His nose filled with the smell of antiseptic, of sickness, of blood. There was an awful, rhythmic pounding; like somebody was hitting a drum right next to his ear. His stomach churned. His arm ached.

He shut his eyes tightly as bright lights assaulted his vision. What… had happened? Where was he?

He tried to open his eyes again, but he was forced to squint. Why did the lights seem so bright? Even if he hadn’t opened his eyes for a while, it didn’t make sense at all.

He was lying in a white room, in a white bed that was not his own. The lights, the bed…

He was in the hospital.

Izuku tried opening his eyes wider, and turned his head to look around more. The room was plain, just as he expected, but by his bedside…

His mother was pacing beside him, chewing her nails, breathing sharply, worry etched across her face.

“M-mom? What-”

She yelped and practically leapt through the ceiling, before running over to the door and calling out. Immediately afterwards, she ran over to Izuku, tears flowing down her face, and took his hand into hers.

“Izuku, I was so scared! They found you on the street, and-and I don't know how it happened, and-”

Izuku immediately sat up and gripped her hand back.

“Mom, I-I’m fine, I just… I don’t know what happened…”

Somehow, this made Inko sob harder. She buried her face into Izuku’s chest, soaking the hospital gown he had been dressed in.

“Mom-”

Suddenly, he heard footsteps nearby, just beyond the door. His ears twitched towards the sound, a second before it was opened and a doctor entered the room.

Wait. His… ears twitched?

Before he could think about it, the doctor spoke; he was an older, heavyset man with a large white mustache. For some reason, he wore a pair of large goggles. Maybe it was Quirk related?

Izuku could've sworn that the room smelled of blood as soon as he entered, but that was silly… right?

“Izuku Midoriya? I’m Doctor Tsubasa. You've been out for a while”

Izuku went pale at the implication. A while? How long was that? A day? Multiple days?

“Um- How long is ‘a while’?” he asked tentatively.

The doctor checked his chart, sighing.

“About four hours. Your mother has been very worried,” he said, sounding nonchalant. “I'm going to need to ask you a few questions, is that alright?”

Izuku gulped, but nodded.

“Alright, then,” the doctor said. “First thing…  ah. We can skip that first question, all things considered. The next one, then. Can you tell me your age, please?”

“I’m… I’m 14?”

The doctor raised an eyebrow, and Izuku gulped again.

“You don't sound sure,” Dr. Tsubasa said, his pencil above his clipboard.

“No, no, I'm sure,” Izuku exclaimed. “I-I was just- I mean, I- I mean-”

The doctor sighed.

“Nevermind. Can you tell me your mothers name?”

“I-Inko Midoriya,” Izuku stammered, forcing the question out of his tone. His mother sobbed again.

“And can you raise your arm for me?”

Izuku did just that, and the doctor nodded.

“Everything seems in order. Can you recall what happened at all? We haven't been able to find out what caused all of this.”

All of this? The way he was talking, it wasn't like he had just passed out. What in the world had happened to him?

“Can- can we slow down? W-what happened to me?”, Izuku stammered. The last thing he remembered was walking home… he had met All Might, and then… well, he had no clue.

His arm throbbed again, but he elected to ignore it. He had bigger worries than some aches and pains.

The man glanced at his mother for a moment, a strange expression on his face, before turning his attention back to Izuku.

“Young man, this may be surprising to hear, but via some previously unknown marvel of science, you have manifested a Quirk.”

Silence.

What.

What?

So earlier, when…

He immediately sat up, grabbing at his ears to assess what exactly had happened to them, only to find them long and furry.

Another moment of silence.

And then he was screaming.

“MOM, MOM, OH MY GOD! I HAVE A QUIRK! A REAL QUIRK!”

Tears began flowing from his eyes in near-comical amounts, and his mother followed suit, hugging him tightly and crying profusely.

“You do! You really do!”

After a moment, they separated, still crying, both of them practically glowing with excitement. Izuku stood from the bed, practically bouncing, and-

Wait, was he shorter? He looked down at his legs, and was surprised to see them to be much more muscular.

“Wait, why am I… shorter?”

He tapped his foot, and the floor cracked beneath it. Cool, he supposed, but… unless he was using it unconsciously, of course…

Again, he reached for his ears, to confirm. Long. Furry.

“Mom… mom, do you still have that mirror in your bag?”

She winced.

“I do, but honey, just… know you look different now, okay? Don't panic, okay? Don't panic, everythings fine!”

She sounded closer to panicking than he did, breathing hitching and words getting caught in her throat. She reached into her purse and handed him the mirror, his difference in height only accentuated by standing in front of her. Were they the same size? Why would he shrink?

He looked into it. The first thing he registered was his red eyes. The second thing was his stark white hair. His ears were long and furry, bright white.

He handed the mirror back to his mother, confusion twisting his face. How could he have manifested a mutation quirk? Much less one like… like…

Every quirk was unique. That was a fact. But there were still rules . You didn't manifest a mutation quirk, you were born with one. And two quirks were never exactly alike.

But there was no denying it. He looked exactly like Mirko, the rabbit hero. Impossible… but true.

“Mom?”

She swallowed, fear and worry in her eyes.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why… Why do I look… like this ? This isn’t-”

The doctor cleared his throat, calling the mother and son to turn their attention back to him.

“I’m glad you asked,” he said, a strange smile on his face. “It seems you’ve realized your quirk is very similar, if not identical, to the professional hero known as Mirko. As you know, it's very uncommon for two quirks to be alike, much less exactly the same. And mutation quirks generally manifest at birth, so this is doubly curious. Our best guess is the existence of a distant relation, but we can only confirm that via a DNA test.”

He raised an eyebrow, but he still had that strange grin on his face.

“Of course, I doubt that it's anything serious, but that is the recommended action by the hospital. If you don’t want to…”

Inko interrupted the doctor, her eyebrows suddenly furrowed, her eyes filled with a sharp determination.

“Yes, yes we do.”

Izuku looked over at his mother, surprised by her sudden directness. Even more shocking was her flat expression. He had never seen her look like this before.

And then the doctor scowled at her, and she was back to normal.

“Oh, I'm so sorry for interrupting you, I didn't mean to be rude,” she exclaimed, her hands raised into the air.

The man sighed.

“It’s alright, it's alright… anyway, I have some final questions for you young man, before you can be officially discharged. First things first, are you feeling any aches or pains? Particularly around your ears, tail, nose or legs?”

Izuku shook his head, getting increasingly nervous, and slightly surprised by the use of the word tail. Though, now that he was aware of it, it was obvious that it was there; it was squished uncomfortably between his back and the mattress.

“Uh, no? I uh… um, don't think so? My arm hurts a bit, but-”

The doctor nodded, cutting off the boy without a care in the world.

“I see. Do you feel nauseous or sickly?”

Izuku shook his head again, not feeling brave enough to respond verbally. He would probably just be cut off again.

The doctor sighed.

“Alright, then. Let’s see about that arm, okay? Ms. Midoriya, could you please leave the room for a moment?”

She looked over at Izuku, worried, but nodded and shuffled out of the room.

Izuku realized it a second too late.

Why would she need to leave for something so trivial…?

The doctor closed the door behind her and locked it. Without the door open, something became clear.

This man smelled of blood.

He turned his attention back to the boy and smiled, his teeth bared in a clear threat.

“Now that she's out of the way, let's have a little conversation , boy.”

 

---

 

Toga shut her eyes tightly as the needle pierced her skin, holding her breath so that she wouldn't be able to smell anything as her blood was drawn. She hated this part of the day. It was even worse today, because she knew she would get a scolding afterwards. She deserved it, she knew, but she still dreaded it.

It was a part of the routine there. And it was a part of the routine now; Everyday, she would take a blood test, to make sure that she was taking all of her medicines, and to make sure that she wasn't taking any… other substances. Not that she ever did, of course. But Samuel would never believe that without proof.

Finally, the invading needle left her, and a bandage was put over the wound with some aggression. She continued to hold her breath, eyes shut tight. Waiting.

“Himiko. Open your eyes.”

Well… he didn't sound angry.

She looked up, meeting Samuels kind brown eyes. Disappointment painted his face, sharp and piercing. A lie. It was nothing but a lie. But she fell for it every time.

“Himiko, you know we took you in under the condition that you remain on your best behavior, right,” he asked, carefully slipping the vial of her blood into its proper storage container.

She looked down in shame, curling her fingers into each other; like snakes, almost. Pale snakes with white nails at the end.

Everything in the house was white. White walls. White floor. No paintings or artwork. White clothes; everything Himiko had to wear was white, except for her school uniform. No yellow, no blue, no pink or purple. Definitely no red. Never red.

“Yes. But-but, I really tried, I did, I swear! But he was in trouble, and-”

Samuel shook his head, and her mouth snapped shut immediately.

“No, Himiko,” he said gently. “That isn't true. You did it because you’re violent. You wanted a reason to attack someone. You are very lucky the villain was able to regenerate. If not…”

“I know… I'm sorry,” she said quietly.

He shook his head, disappointment still etched over his face.

"Not sorry enough, Himiko. Never sorry enough."

Shit.

Before she even saw it coming, his fist struck her across the face.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

Eventually, she lost count.

Why was she like this? Why was she such a failure? She couldn't do anything right, could she? She couldn’t even save somebody. She couldn’t…

When he was done, she only laid on the floor, silently crying.

He knelt down next to her, staring with dead eyes. 

Dead. 

Dead, like those people. 

Dead.

"You are violent and cruel. You made me do this. If you weren't such a sick freak, I wouldn't need to do this. Remember that, Himiko.”

She sobbed. It hurt to sob. It hurt to lay there. It hurt to breathe.

It hurt.

“Himiko. Repeat after me. You are a demon.”

“I… I am a demon.”

“You will never be normal.”

She grit her teeth. But she needed to say it. Or he would have to hit her again, wouldn't he?

“I'll never be normal.”

He nodded.

“Good. Good. What are you going to do about that, Himiko? How are you going to be better?”

She was silent.

“Himiko.”

She choked out the words, shaking profusely.

“I-I'll take my medicine, and I’ll s-stay out of trouble, a-and… and… and then I won't ever feel those th-things, right?”

She hoped so. She didn't like being a monster. She didn't like drinking blood, she didn't, she didn't, but the urge she felt… she had to try harder. Try harder not to feel that way. Drinking blood was evil. Not Normal. She knew that, so… why?

Samuel nodded.

“Good, good. Go to Tetsukira for healing, alright Himiko? Dinner will be done soon, alright?”

She slowly stood, wiping away tears and blood and some sort of clear fluid from her face, starting to hobble out of the room. Everything hurt. 

She deserved the pain.

“Thank you…”

She hated this.

She wouldn't let anyone feel this way. She couldn’t.

Nobody deserved to feel the way she did. Nobody.

Nobody but her.

 

---

 

Katsuki couldn't breathe. At least, that's how it felt. His lungs felt full of cotton. Everywhere he looked, there was something waiting; a building looked like a looming monster, a pedestrian seemed to stare at him a little too intensely. Were they watching him? 

Of course they were. They saw. Everyone saw. He had seen the crowd. Everyone knew. Everyone knew how weak he was.

But he wasn't, he wasn't weak. He didn’t need anyones damn help, he could've done it himself, he could have. He was strong. He was powerful, that villian was just a damn extra!

The police officer talking to his parents was tall and muscular. Purple hair. They were outside, on the porch. Nothing they said mattered.

The officer told them about the villian. The attack. It didn’t matter, it didn’t fucking matter, he was fine . He could have beaten them. He was just taken by surprise. The officer told them to watch Katsuki carefully. Bullshit. He was fine. He was fine. He was fine. He was strong . He wasn't an extra . He could do it himself, because he was the fucking best. Not some creepy blonde chick. Definitely not Kusatta, that villian. Not some random bird fucker. Him . He was the best. Nobody else.

They went inside. The coat rack looked like a person from the corner of his eye. Did that painting blink? Had that pot been there before? No, no it hadn’t. Right? Didn’t matter. He destroyed it. The hag yelled. He yelled back. She was just an old hag, anyway. He crushed the painting, too. It was looking at him. His parents asked him to sit down. He didn’t. Something was wrong. He needed to be prepared. Somebody was watching. Who was watching? Were they looking through the windows? Did they have a camera? 

“We’re scared for you.” Well too bad. Nothing to be scared about. He was as strong as ever, he yelled. He was the strongest, the best, he was #1 and he would prove it.

He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. He went to his room. They wouldn't leave him alone. Someone was watching there, too. Who? Where? He didn’t know. They were there. Waiting. They wanted to kill him, too, they wanted to carve their way into his flesh and use him like a puppet but he wouldn't let them. He was the best, he would win, he had to win, he had to be the best.

Katsuki didn’t sleep well that night.

“I should've known! You’re- you’re a freak! You aren't normal, you're disturbed and I should’ve never brought you in!”

Tomura couldn’t get angry. Other people got to be angry. He didn’t. When he got angry, people got scared.

When you get angry, people get hurt.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to be calm. He couldn't act out. He had to be calm.

“Fuhai, I just wanted to keep Toga out of trouble. You have to understand that-”

She slammed the frying pan against the wall, cutting him off with a loud bang.

“Shut up! Just stop it, just act like a normal person, please ! Stay out of trouble! Stop wearing those damn hands! Go outside and talk to people! Just… be normal !”

He grit his teeth, his fingers scraping at air. Don’t scratch. Friends don't let their friends get hurt. Don't scratch. 

Don't get angry. Don't get angry.

Hurt her.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he hissed. “I- I can’t, I just can't-”

“Yes you can! You made a friend today! You went out for ice cream! You just- you just couldn't help but throw yourself into a fight, could you? Just… just…”

And then she screamed .

“Just take those damn things off!”

She flung the pan at his feet, roaring with rage.

“Take them off you freak! Take them the fuck off!”

She stomped towards him and grabbed the hand on his face.

And then he was seeing red.

He roared, pushed her to the ground, wrapped his hands around his throat and squeezed, screeching like some sort of deranged animal, slamming her head into the ground and roaring .

“ DON'T TOUCH ME!”

Like they did.

 “DON'T TOUCH ME!” 

Like he did.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” 

They never do.

“DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME !”

Like she did.

His face stretched into a wide smile as she struggled. Was this what it felt like back then? When he killed them all. He liked it. He wanted it. He wanted to kill her.

And then he was back.

He screamed, horror now, scrambling backwards.

Not again.

No, I haven't.

I have. I killed them.

There was a mistake.

That's not true.

It is. I know I did. I just tried to do it again.

No, I didn't. I'm going crazy. This is a dream, just a bad dream, just a bad dream.

If it weren't for those gloves, she'd be dead.

I didn't do it.

But I should've.

And then the room was spinning and blurry and shaking and he was hot and cold all at once, and some thing, some awful shadow, appeared in the corner of his eye, reaching, reaching-

He was going to puke. He was going to puke and he couldn't stop it.

He scrambled to his feet, ran into the bathroom, pushed through the shadows and the smell of flowers and the taste of rot, and before he could take the hand off his face, vomited into the sink.

He pulled the dirtied hand off his face, his shaking hands only leading to it falling from his grip and onto the floor.

He only stared at his hands, covered in oddly shaped gloves, shaking and twitching in the motions of scratching, and he was so itchy, and nothing felt real and pain felt real and he didn't want to think about it he didn't want to think about any of it and he was so fucking itchy -

He brought his hands to his face and began scratching.

He couldn't do this.

He had hurt her.

That couldn't happen again. He had to change this, didn't he?

Suddenly, something Toga had said popped into his mind.

Heroes… together?

What a joke. Kill her. Kill both of them. Kill everyone.

Tomura grit his teeth. Scratched harder.

No. I won't.

Do it.

No.

DO IT.

But he had made his choice. A seed of determination sprouting in him, a flame suddenly burning bright.

He would be a hero. He would prove to everyone that he wasn't what they said of him, no matter the cost.

He would prove that he hadn't killed anyone.

…

You can try, Tomura Shigaraki. You can try.

 

---

 

Tokoyami scowled as the sun shone into his eyes, nearly blinding him as he trudged down the street. Earlier, it had been pleasantly cool, but now, Fumikage was practically on fire.

He was well prepared to stay in this heat, because when he got home, him mother was going to fucking kill him.

But there was a shaded alleyway nearby, so he ducked away from the heat and leaned against the wall, panting. Dark Shadow materialized near him, sighing with relief.

”Oh, the humanity! I was sure it was over for me! The agony! The pain!”

Fumikage rolled his eyes and put his backpack down for a moment.

“Light can’t kill you,” he muttered. “At least, I'm fairly certain it cannot.”

Though he sounded annoyed, he was secretly appreciative of Dark Shadows dramatics. They helped calm his nerves, just a bit. He didn't share that emotion with her, though. She didn’t need to know that.

Dark Shadow sighed and dropped the dramatics.

“Mom’s gonna be so pissed.”

Fumikage nodded, face carefully neutral.

“Yes. Yes, I fear she will,” he said, deadpan.

There was a sudden, nice gust of wind. Fumikage appreciated the break from the heat. Dark Shadow, however, was undeterred. She stared at him, incredulous, and poked him in the chest.

“She's gonna ban us from tv for a whole year, dude!”

Fumikage responded automatically. “Probably.”

He started to stand straight again, but Dark Shadow waved her arms wildly in some expression of emotion.

“BE MORE PANICKED!”

Fumikage felt the smallest smile glance across his face, but he quickly tamped it down.

“I am panicking. On the inside,” he said. He definitely wasn't lying; if things had gone just a little worse, he might have been hit with a vigilantism charge. And his past was messy enough as it was.

“Now, let's just get it over with, shall we?” he finished blankly. 

“Maybe we could run away,” Dark Shadow mused, ignoring Fumikage entirely. “Never come back. We have like three dollars, we could go… uh, about a block away? If we took the bus?”

“I am not getting in a cramped bus just to avoid a 20 minute scolding.”

Dark Shadow looked scandalized by this, for some reason.

“20? 40, absolute minimum. Inati is gonna… uh… iniba wede ānite ?”

Fumikage flinched at Dark Shadows' scuffed pronunciation. She sounded as if she had a head cold.

“Leave the Amharic to me, please,” he complained. “Besides, she’ll be too tired for a 40 minute rant. 20.”

“40.”

“I concede. 30.”

“35.”

“Don't push it.”

The quirk groaned and smoothed back her shadowy feathers.

“I think that's long enough to risk it. We can live a new life! Change our identities!”

“Ah, yes,” Fumikage teased. “Start a new life, 3 minutes away from the apartment. I’ll be Adgar Ellen Doe, and you can be my sidekick, Lady Stultus .”

Dark Shadow glared and flicked Fumikages beak, a scowl on her face.

“That's latin for ‘stupid’, isn't it?”

“Correct,” Fumikage said, picking up his backpack. “Your prize is the rest of the walk home.”

Dark Shadow glared.

“To the bus station, you mean.”

Fumikage was about to give a snarky response, but a loud, booming voice suddenly rang out from behind them, the alleyway filling with a feeling of power. The tone of voice was so bright that it grated on Fumikages nerves.

“I think that would be rather irresponsible of you, Fumikage Tokoyami.”

Only one person could have such a distinct voice. A voice that was infinitely recognizable. But… why would he be here? Talking to… him?

Maybe he was mistaken.

That thought was what gave Fumikage the willpower to turn around, and his suspicions were confirmed; the towering, muscular figure of All Might filled the other end of the alleyway, casually leaning against the wall as if he didn’t have a care in the world. There was something odd about his posture, though; too stiff, and his smile seemed uncomfortably tight.

Still, though… what the fuck?

Dark Shadow’s mouth dropped open, and she raised a finger mindlessly, but said nothing.

He pointed, eyes wide, and after a moment of shock, spoke.

“You're All Might.”

Fumikage inwardly cringed at himself. Well, no shit . Who else would it be, Manual? But something else was suddenly pulling on his attention. What exactly had the hero said…?

The man blinked, jaw slightly tensed for some reason.

“Ah, well, yes, but I honestly expected more enthusiasm-”

Ah. Fumikage knew what had caught his attention now.

“You know my name,” he blurted out, still pointing mindlessly. He quickly pulled his arm down. “Why do you know my name?”

All Might stood up straight and gave a nod, though that, too, seemed a bit stiff. What was with that?

“I was told when filing the report about the incident.”

Just then, Dark Shadow recovered from her shock and began flying around wildly, shouting with excitement.

“OH MY GOD FUMI ITS ALL MIGHT LOOK AT HIM HE'S SO COOOL LOOK LOOK LOOK LOOOOOK ISN'T HE SO COOL LOOOOOK!”

Fumikage cringed again. Great. He was in front of the #1 hero, and his quirk was making a huge deal out of it. The last thing Fumikage wanted to be was an annoying fanboy, especially considering that he preferred lower-ranking heroes in general.

“Shadi- ahem, Dark Shadow,” he said. “You're embarrassing me.”

But that was the least of her worries, apparently. The quirk began rapidly smacking the top of Fumikage’s head, vibrating with excitement.

“OH MY GOD LOOK LOOK ARE YOU LOOKING LOOK LOOK HE'S SO COOL LOOK HE'S TALKING TO US THAT'S SO COOL!”

“I'm looking,” Fumikage snapped. “Stop hitting me!”

The quirk froze and backed off, looking sheepish.

“Sorry, sorry! But why is he talking to us?”

Fumikage carefully fashioned his expression into one of cold indifference. He absolutely would not lose his composure in front of the #1 hero.

“That's what I'm worried about,” he said.

For all he knew, All Might was here to scold him for his earlier idiocy. Or who-knows-what else. Nine times out of ten, being approached by a Pro Hero wasn’t as cool as it seemed, especially for a heteromorph like himself.

Dark Shadow went silent, seeming to understand Fumikages apprehension.

“Oh,” she said simply.

After an awkward moment of silence, All Might cleared his throat and continued speaking.

“As… as I was trying to say… Young man! Are you planning to become a hero?”

Fumikage and Dark Shadow hesitated for a moment. What was this about? Still, they ended up speaking at once.

“Yes.” “I’m not a man.”

Fumikage facepalmed.

“He was addressing me, Dark Shadow.”

Dark Shadow cleared her throat awkwardly and floated back a bit; an attempt to remove herself from the situation.

The hero cleared his throat again, looking even more awkward and tense.

“Ah, yes. That. As I was saying… Young man! Do you wish to become a hero?”

“Yes, I just said yes,” Tokoyami deadpanned. All Might stared blankly, and Fumikage forced himself not to smirk; it wasn't just anybody who could disarm the #1 hero.

“Snarky, I see! I saw you today, young man! You showcased great bravery and helped save that young man from that villains grasp! Very few would be brave enough to run into danger like that! Why, even the heroes on the scene hesitated!”

Tokoyami's eyes widened. He had expected a scolding, not to be praised. What was going on? Was this gearing up to be an even more severe lashing then he thought? Was All Might a Compliment Sandwich kinda guy?

The hero, however, seemed to misinterpret the mutants expression.

“I see you're starting to understand. I think you have the spirit of a true hero. That spirit… It inspired me to act!”

Tokoyami stumbled backwards, shocked. What the hell? No, no, he must've misheard. All Might was… well, All Might. It was him that inspired others, not skinny bird boys.

“Me? You’re the number one hero! Why would I ever inspire you?”

All Might paused, seeming to contemplate for a moment, or perhaps he was just articulating his answer.

“Young man. I am going to share a very important secret with you, and I expect you to tell nobody, alright? You and your, ah, quirk, that is.”

Tokoyami looked at Dark Shadow, who stared back with wide eyes. What was going on? Did they really have much of a choice? The number one hero was standing right in front of them, entrusting them with a great secret. How could they possibly refuse?

Tokoyami bowed low.

“Of course. How could I possibly refuse your request?”

Dark Shadow flashed a thumbs up.

“Yeah! We won’t tell anyone! Not even our bird!”

Fumikage was going to throw himself off a building. He really would.

All Might stared awkwardly.

“You own a… you know what, I’m not touching that topic. It's about time I stopped stalling, anyway! Now, don't panic. I've had quite enough of that today!”

He laughed awkwardly, and then, after a moment of pause, like some sort of stage magician, smoke suddenly burst from his body, filling the alleyway and blinding Tokoyami completely. Fumikage waved an arm in a vain attempt to clear away the smoke, coughing heavily. What the fuck? Was that even in his skillset? Apparently so, but why would he never use it in battle?

When the smoke cleared, he saw why.

In front of him was an emaciated, skeletal man, tall and thin. His cheeks sunken, eyes shrouded in darkness, clothes about ten sizes too large.

Suddenly, something was clear to Fumikage.

“So… your quirk allows you to transform into that massive form… it must have a time limit, yes?”

The man chuckled, but shook his head.

“You’re perceptive, but not quite. This is the result of something else.”

He lifted his shirt, revealing a massive spiderweb-like scar spanning across the entire left side of his stomach and chest. Fumikage heard Dark Shadow gag.

“Eleven years ago, a villain did this to me. I lost nearly my entire digestive system. I won the fight, of course, but ever since, I've been losing time. These days, I can only do hero work for one hour a day.”

Tokoyami stared, horrified by the scarring on his body…

One hour a day? Losing time?

He opened his mouth. Closed it, and looked away. Dark Shadow, too, was silent.

The quirk spoke first.

“You're… dying, aren't you?”

The man smiled, strain clear on his face, and lowered his shirt.

“Yes… I am.”

Fumikage coughed, and spoke up.

“Uhm… sir, why are you telling us this?”

All Might sighed.

“Young man, seeing your heroic spirit, I was inspired to make the choice I've been putting off for so long. Tokoyami Fumikage, right now, I'm offering you my quirk!”

Tokoyami stumbled back and fell, stammering and sputtering. Eventually, he found his words, still shocked, but needing answers. What was he even talking about?

“Offering your quirk? To replace Dark Shadow? How could you ‘offer’ a quirk? Why me?”

All Might chuckled, but he seemed unamused.

“Why you? Young man, you helped save that boy in the alleyway! With no hesitation, you ran in with the intent to save him. That is the mark of a hero! I fear I don't have much time left as a hero, and… I believe you have the same spirit of heroism that led my master to give me this quirk in the first place.”

He chuckled.

“And don't worry. If you inherit my quirk, your own will remain. It will be made stronger, of course, but your quirk will stay much the same.”

Tokoyami was silent.

Was this really happening? Why would All Might, the number one hero, choose him, of all people?

He didn’t deserve this. He didn't deserve anything like this. He was a complete failure.

But… with that power, the unbeatable strength of All Might himself… he could make up for his failures, couldn’t he? He could become a hero. He could find that villain and make them pay. He could save people, and make up for those he hadn’t saved before.

Well… it was a no-brainer.

“Yes. I accept your offer,” Fumikage said, voice shaking.

He looked up at the hero in front of him.

“What do I need to do?

All Might immediately whipped a small stack of papers out of his back pocket.

“I’m glad you asked.”

Notes:

HEYYYY SO UH UPDATE WHOOOO

okay lets get into the changes

the most obvious changes first: I added three more sections! The "questioning" (read: interrogation) section, the All Might section, and the Bakugou section.

The questioning section focuses on the direct aftermath of the incident. It shows a bit of each characters personality, and shows us a bit of the treatment that our three protagonists go through. Shiggy gets the worst of the bias, but Toga and Tokoyami also get some good ol discrimination piled on them.

The All Might section is there to show us his perspective on our heroes and his thought process in choosing Tokoyami to be his successor.

The Bakugou section is there to show Bakugou's fragile mental state after getting 90% killed.

other changes: I added actual fucking narration and narrative weight to Izuku's section. Called more attention to Inkos presence and actions in the scene.

Expanded on Togas room being a white hellscape in the original. The entire *house* is a white hellscape. No wonder everyone thinks she looks dead inside in "Change".

Made Kakari less of a rampant bitch. Now you get to see a bit of her thought process. She's still being an absolute fucking cunt, but it's easier to see why.

this is completely unrelated to the changes but everyone in this fic so far is at least a little bit of a dick.
Tokoyami with his slightly passive aggressive and mocking snark (I am so convinced that his edgy speech patterns are at least partially a way to annoy and confuse people)
Toga practically crawling all over anybody she takes a slight interest in (this one makes sense all things considered but still)
All Might telling Midoriya that he's got no shot (he wasn't lying but damn) and replacing Tsuyu at the drop of a hat (at least he feels bad about it ig???)
Tomura is just kinda confrontational and rude??? 24/7???
Bakugou is Bakugou

I like stories where everyone is at least sort of a jerk if you couldn't tell (all of these characters will get some form of retribution).

Anyway do y'all think All Might has ever dealt with a civilian snarking him? Much less a child?

Chapter 5: One For All

Summary:

Tokoyamis training, and the effects.

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of shitty parenting and its effects, Mentions of murder (?)

“My quirk… is called One for All. It’s been passed down for generations, since the dawn of quirks, and each time it is passed down, it grows more and more powerful. I am the eighth user of this quirk, and you will be the ninth…”

Fumikage stared out at the beach ahead of them.

“And how will this beach help me gain this power?” he asked, a note of seriousness in his voice.

It had been three days; All Might had given Fumikage a simple (if not excessively detailed) survey to complete. Every single aspect of his life was carefully accounted for; his height, weight, medical conditions, even vestigial mutations. Fumikage was entirely honest. It wouldn't do him any good to hide anything. Not if he wanted this power.

So he had carefully made sure each of his answers were accurate. He had his mother pull up his medical files, checked and double checked their budget, and re-measured his weight and height. 

He found that, apparently, his bones were hollow, and his head could (theoretically) turn 360 degrees and upside down. Apparently, one of his relatives on his dad’s side had an owl mutation. His mother didn't want him to find out. He could see why; even in the world of quirks, that was a gruesome party trick. Exactly his style.

Now, Fumikage and All Might were standing in the notoriously filthy Takoba Municipal Beach Park. Every inch of sand was buried under mountains of garbage; stacks of old tires, mounds of plastic waste, fridges and rusted-through engines, even a steel girder.

All Might gave a laugh, and then coughed loudly, blood spurting out of his mouth. Fumikage couldn't help but flinch at the sight.

“Well, you can't just get One for All right away, can you? If I gave it to you as you are now, your limbs would pop right off!”

Fumikage blinked and took a moment to process that. Was One for All really that dangerous? He supposed that, if it really did grow stronger every generation, it was entirely possible…

And that wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

“That does sound like a dire consequence,” he said. “But I still don't understand what this beach has to do with it.”

He looked around again. Nothing but mounds of trash, with even more being pushed onto the sand by the tides. Was there some secret hidden here that he couldn’t see…?

“This beach has everything to do with it, young man,” All Might said. “This is your training ground. Your mission is to completely clear this beach by the time of the UA Entrance Exam!”

Tokoyamis eyes widened, and he swallowed dryly.

“This… whole beach? I- I doubt that's possible.”

That was an understatement, Tokoyami thought. The amount of trash wasn't even the biggest issue; it was the type of garbage. From where he stood, he could see at least two discarded trucks, a steel girder, and what looked to be the wreckage of a destroyed boat. And his job was to clean all of it?

But All Might just nodded.

“That's step one of being a hero, isn't it? If you want to go to UA, you'll have to follow their tenets, even now; Go Beyond! Plus Ultra!”

He transformed into his muscle form with a loud BANG at that, a wide grin on his face, and pulled out a stack of papers. Unlike the survey Fumikage had been given three days earlier, this one was rather thick, and stapled neatly together.

“I've taken the liberty of creating a workout plan, using the answers of that survey you filled out,” the hero boomed. “I call it ‘Aim to Pass: The All American Dream Plan! If you follow this to the letter, you’ll clear this beach with time to spare!”

All Might held out the stack of papers, and Fumikage took it with some apprehension. If this workout plan was truly so intense that following it would lead him to clear this entire beach… could he truly handle it? Maybe he wasn't cut out for this…

A beach. Like this one.

He grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes with determination. No. He had made his choice. He had to make up for his failures. Whatever he needed to do, he would do it.

He began looking over the plan.

It was detailed. Very detailed. His meals were planned out, with ingredients that he could afford with his budget. His sleep schedule, too, was planned out. Only one thing was off…

“Memihiri- ah, I mean, sir… I cannot afford these weights. And I cannot afford a gym membership, either.”

All Might only smiled.

“Of-,” he suddenly coughed, spewing blood and shrinking back down. “Ah… Well.”

He cleared his throat and started again, modulating his voice so it sounded as it had before, without having to bulk back up.

“Of course! But there's no need to worry; I’ve decided to pay for those amenities out of my own pocket!”

Fumikage nearly dropped the stack of papers.

“Wait, what? No, I couldn’t- I mustn’t accept that! I'll come up with an alternative-”

“Nonsense,” All Might interrupted. “In fact, I've decided to pay for a weekly trip to use the best gym in the country; the gym at Might Tower!”

Fumikage swallowed, looked back down at the papers in his hands, and shook his head. Hard. He couldn’t accept something like this. He didn’t deserve it.

He could find an alternative. There was a difference between earning something and being given something outright.

“No. I have to say no, it's just… it's not…”

But All Might wasn't having any of that.

“Say yes,” he said, voice gentler now. “You can repay me by getting into UA.”

Fumikage swallowed dryly.

And then he nodded.

 

---

 

Fumikage stepped off the train nervously, staring around at the unfamiliar city he found himself in.

Roppongi was… a lot. It was known as “the memorial center of Japan”; an area that had faced massive destruction during the Dawn of Quirks. The entire district had practically been razed by one tragedy after another. Some said that it attracted bad luck. Others said that its recovery was a miracle, proving that Roppongi could bounce back from anything.

Fumikage didn’t subscribe to either theory. He just thought the district had been unlucky enough to become a living hell, and then it was lucky enough to be rebuilt. Simple as that.

Everywhere he walked, there was a memorial; people crowded around plaques commemorating massive tragedies, restored buildings in outdated styles, and, of course, the Sakurazaka.

The trees were almost completely destroyed during the chaos surrounding the Dawn of Quirks. Only two survived, next to each other, defended by an early vigilante. Any attempt to plant more trees proved a failure; a quirk had rendered the soil toxic, even to modern day, and only the two remaining trees were able to adapt to the change.

Fumikage felt dirty being here, where so much destruction had taken place. As a mutant, as somebody who was the ultimate representation of quirks, he almost felt responsible. He didn’t understand why, but the Roppongi district felt sick; like at any moment, destruction would rain down on it again, and this time, there would be nothing left to save.

He made his way to Might Tower quickly.

Fumikage would have never imagined that he would be near Might Tower, let alone inside of it. But as he got closer and closer to it, it stood out; the planet on top of the skyscraper, with its two massive rings, was impossible not to marvel at. The sheer height of the agency was impossible not to marvel at.

Might Tower wasn't just a hero agency, though. Its many, many floors held all sorts of amenities; it was an orphanage, a food pantry, a soup kitchen, a cafe. And, most importantly to Fumikage, it was a state-of-the-art gym, filled with thousands of the most up to date machines.

As he neared the entrance of the Tower, a security guard stopped him and asked for his name. Once he gave it, he was given a temporary access card, which he could scan at the elevator to take him directly to the gyms (and their attached cafe, of course).

The gym itself was also jaw dropping; a space so large that he could hardly see the other side from where he stood, filled with equipment of all kinds. There were specialized machines for many-armed folk, massive weights for massive people, things he couldn't even begin to describe.

But he couldn’t just stand there, gawking. He had a workout to do.

A workout that was quickly interrupted.

30 minutes into his workout, Fumikage stopped to get a drink of water, putting the weights back into their place and making his way to a nearby vending machine. However, somebody else was there; a blonde with a spiky mess of hair, growling as he kicked the vending machine, trying to dislodge his stuck energy drink.

“I fear that kicking the machine isn’t the solution you think it is.”

The blonde growled and gave the machine another hard kick, just to make a point.

“Stay in your lane, you piece of shit!” he yelled, whipping around to face him.

Fumikage stepped back at once.

Fumikage didn’t think he would see that face ever again. He didn’t want to. The sight of someone in pain, terrified, while he could barely help… it was too much.

But he was right in front of him. Blonde hair, sharp red eyes, and all. The one place that was so far away he thought that he could avoid anybody.

The boy looked equally shocked, but he handled it completely differently than Fumikage; he stepped forwards and yelled.

“YOU! What the fuck are YOU doing here!? Get the fuck out!”

His yell provoked immediate reactions across the board; Fumikage couldn't help but gasp, and he felt Dark Shadow snapping awake in his chest. Nearly everyone in the gym looked over at them, a variety of expressions on their faces; annoyance, anger, confusion.

Fumikages eyes narrowed; what the hell was this dude's problem?

“I’m preparing for the UA entrance exam. I… I presume you are doing the same, yes?”

The boy glared at him as if he had kicked his cat.

“So you’re trying for UA, huh? Bet you think you're a real hero after that bullshit you just pulled, right?”

Fumikage opened his mouth to respond, but the boy plowed right along, cutting him off.

“Well, don't even fucking bother,” he snarled. Little firecrackers started popping in his palms. “You think you're better than me, but I'll show you up! I’ll be number fucking one!”

At this point, Fumikage could see a security guard approaching them from the other side of the gym. At the same time, he felt Dark Shadow awaken fully.

“Listen,” the bird-headed boy said. “I never said I thought I was better than you, I don't even know who you are-!”

“Then why’d you try to save me from that pathetic fucking villian,” the boy snapped. “I had it fucking handled! I- I’m not weak!”

His voice cracked at the end of his sentence.

“This guy has a serious inferiority complex,” Dark Shadow commented. Fumikage sent the mental equivalent of a nod back.

“I never said that,” Fumikage said, unable to keep his frustration out of his voice. “I- well, it just looked like you needed some help, is all!”

The blonde grit his teeth, clenched his fists, stepped forwards… and then he seemed to notice what a scene he was making. And, with one look at the approaching security guard, he backed off.

“The name’s Katsuki Bakugou,” he hissed. “Remember it, Bird Boy.”

And then he stomped off.

 

---

 

After the incident in the Might Tower gym, Fumikage saw Bakugou there nearly every week; the boy pointedly ignored him, but he always seemed to be in sight. He was unavoidable… even though Fumikage knew that Bakugou was trying to avoid him.

That massive gym seemed very, very small, somehow. They could never really avoid each other.

However, even though his workouts at Might Tower were tense and awkward, they were working. Fumikage could see himself gaining muscle; where he used to be able to count his ribs, now there was lean muscle across his ribcage. His shoulders were growing broader, his arms growing thicker. He was once so skinny that people were afraid to touch him, in fear that he would fall apart. Not anymore.

But the strangest part of it all was that he was growing. Fumikage was never the type to eat much; he had gained the habit of eating very small portions, so they could save money. He had to. He was the one who took care of things. His mother worked, yes, but she had never gained the life skills she needed to survive. She had gotten married right out of school- no, she hadn't even finished school. She had relied on his father, until…

Well, it was Tokoyamis job now. He was the one who budgeted, who shopped and cooked. And he always made sure his mother had the best of the best. That was what she deserved. And the last thing he wanted to do was be a burden. So she got the biggest portions, despite her insistence. Tokoyami was fine with wearing old, too-small clothes, and being hungry all the time. As long as she was happy.

But All Might had insisted that he eat larger portions. And he had argued, but the hero wouldn't have it. So, with no small amount of guilt, he started splitting their meals more evenly, and the effect was almost immediate; he shot up, like his body was waiting for the nutrients it needed to grow. Where he was once shorter than his mother, he now stood an inch taller than her. He had already grown three inches, and it wasn't showing any signs of stopping. 

It was almost scary.

Yes. That was it. He wasn't happy he was filling out and growing taller. It scared him. Every muscle he saw growing was a step closer to UA. To One for All. and that was what he wanted, but… he didn't know if he was ready for what came next.

But he had made his choice. He had to be ready. He couldn't go back on it now.

Whatever came next… he would face it. He would do what he needed to do.

UA… the entrance exam… He would power through. The challenges, the change, everything… it filled him with determination. He had been a hero once, but he still had failures to amend.

He would get into UA. He would become a hero, save people, and find that villian.

No matter the cost.

 

---

 

“Young Tokoyami! You can do better than that! Come on, I’ve barely moved a meter!”

Fumikage gasped and wheezed, sweat poured down his back, his breaths came fast and the underside of his beak fluttered rapidly, but he refused to give in. He kept pulling.

Crunch!

Something crumpled under his foot as he finally managed another step forward. He didn't look down. He kept pulling.

“Getting mighty cozy up here! Hah! Mighty! I'll have to remember that one!”

Fumikage did his best to ignore All Might's voice and pressed on. His goal was simple; get All Might and the fridge to the heroes truck, which was three meters away.

The problem was that All Might was 255 kilograms of pure muscle, sitting on top of a massive 50kg fridge.

But Fumikage wouldn’t let something so trivial stop him.

The bird-headed boy grit his teeth and pulled harder, every muscle in his body burning like fire, but that wouldn't stop him either. He could do this.

No.

He would do this.

The sand only made it harder to pull the massive load he was subjected to, but finally, he managed another step. He nearly lost his balance, stumbling under the weight, but caught himself at the last moment.

All Might said something, but Fumikage didn’t bother listening.

He took a deep breath. Relaxed for just a moment. And then he roared.

He pulled harder. Managed a step forward. Then another. And another.

Suddenly, All Might's voice rang out, breaking through his concentration for just a moment.

“Woah, kid! I said you could stop! You’re gonna pull something!”

Fumikage collapsed at once, but he quickly brought himself to his hands and knees, trying to stand back up. He quickly looked over his shoulder, the underside of his beak still fluttering rapidly and his muscles sore, and saw that All Might had his phone's camera pointed at him. 

The bird-headed boy flinched at that. He hated being recorded.

“Sir,” he wheezed. “You said… that I had to… get you all the way to the truck…”

All Might balked at that.

“Wait, you were actually going to do it? That was a test, kid! I wanted to see how far you would get before calling it quits,” he said, shocked. “You’ve already exceeded my expectations.”

Fumikage did not respond. All Might cleared his throat awkwardly, shrunk down, and climbed off the fridge.

“Young man,” he said, sounding concerned now. “You don’t have to just lie down and take anything someone throws at you. I didn’t realize-”

“No. That’s not it.”

The hero froze.

“What?”

Fumikage forced himself to his feet and took a deep breath.

“The thing is,” he began, “I must put forward one hundred percent. If I hope to earn your power, to enter UA, to become a hero, then who am I… to give up… when I’m halfway there?”

He pointed sharply at the ground, at the tracks left in the sand by the fridge and All Might's weight. And, just as he said, his last few steps hand put the fridge just over the halfway point between where they began, and the truck.

All Might stared, shocked. And then, ever so slowly, he smiled.

“Kid… you've got some serious guts.”

 

---

 

He saw them from a distance. He never approached. Not even once. But he watched them.

He supposed that they were training as well; the blonde figure with buns, the blue haired one. Even watching from a distance, he was impressed. He watched as they dodged and parried each other's attacks with laser precision, watched as the blonde moved like flowing water, practically dancing around any attack that came their way.

It was the blonde, in particular, that impressed him. They moved like a professional already; every move was calculated, but fast. Instinctual, but purposeful. And sometimes, they would vanish entirely, and he wouldn't see them until they struck.

He wondered where they learned to fight like that. He wondered if he could learn to fight like that… but probably not. There were some things that only a few people could do, and he felt like vanishing into thin air and cartwheeling off of somebody back were a couple of those things.

Still… maybe. There was always a chance. And besides, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from their training. There wasn't any harm in watching; it gave him something to do other than lug abandoned washers around.

So Fumikage watched as they battled, and he watched as the blue-haired one slowly grew faster, stronger, and started reading their opponent.

Was… that what he looked like? Was somebody watching him grow taller, more muscular? Was somebody watching him carry heavier and heavier loads, and thinking, “I wonder if I could do that, too?”

…

He hoped so. Even if he failed, he would want to be the person that inspired others to succeed.

But he didn't need to worry about that. 

He would not fail.

 

---

 

Bakugou approached him.

It had been nearly 6 months since Fumikage had met All Might, and once a week, he would arrive at Might Tower to use the equipment that he couldn’t get at home. And once a week, he would see Bakugou Katsuki. They would watch each other, awkward, tense, and they would do their best to never be on the same side of the gym. Ever.

But then the blonde approached him. Just as he put the barbell back in its place and sat up, Bakugou walked up to him.

“Spot me.”

Fumikage stood and stared at him as if he were some sort of alien creature, before finally finding his voice.

“I beg your pardon?”

Bakugou scowled, but continued on calmly. Or, at least, as calmly as he could; his voice still sounded like somebody had just slapped his grandmother.

“I’m adding another 50 pounds today,” he snapped. “The guy who usually spots me pulled a hamstring or something, and I know you won’t try to drop the damn thing on me. That's all.”

Fumikage half-closed one eye, as he had no eyebrows to raise. It gave a similar effect. At least, he had fooled himself into thinking so.

“How do you know that?”

“Well, you tried to save me once,” he snarled. “Seems like it would be a waste to finish me off now, huh!?”

Fumikage shrugged. That seemed reasonable, at least. He may have been an egotistical dick, but at least he knew not to put his trust in the wrong people. He began removing his own weights from the barbell.

“And you do know that you aren’t supposed to increase your weight by more than 10 percent at a time, yes?” he asked, placing the weights back in their place.

Bakugou's eye began twitching at that.

“Well, I'm asking you to spot me, aren't I? Just do it, Bird Boy!”

“How pestiferous…” Fumikage said, and removed another set of weights. Bakugou stared at him as if he had cursed him out.

“Is that even a damn word!?”

Fumikage smirked. This was getting fun, he decided.

“Do not place the blame on me for your fatuity. It is, indeed, an aspect of our shared onomasticon.”

“SHUT UP AND SPOT ME, BIRD BRAIN!”

Fumiikage sighed.

“Alright,” he said, deciding to put a stop to his increasing wordiness. “I'll spot you. But that means I'm going to stop you if it's too much weight for you. Got it?”

Bakugou scoffed, as if Fumikage had said something completely ridiculous.

“Please. I can handle it.”

Fumikage drooped an eyelid once again, but the blonde didn’t even seem to notice; he had already started adding weights to the now-empty barbell. Far more than his build suggested he could handle. 

But that didn’t stop him. He blew into his palms, rubbed his hands together, and gripped the barbell.

Fumikage sighed, fully expecting the boy to fail utterly, but, to his shock, he did fairly well; he looked like he had some difficulty, but that was expected from such a jump in weight. He made it through his first three reps without complaint.

However, as he started his fourth rep, he was clearly starting to fall apart; his arms shook like leaves, and his face was scrunched up in obvious pain. Still, he pushed through… but he wouldn’t be able to finish the rep.

Fumikage stepped in.

“Alright, you’re done,” he said, and took the bar from his hands.

Bakugou's eyes filled with rage, and he sat up so fast he nearly cracked his skull open on the barbell as Fumikage set it down.

“What? No! I can handle it,” he yelled, offended.

Fumikage shook his head, and put a hand down on the bar; a warning. He could see people starting to take notice of them; several of them seemed to recognize the duo.

Great. Now he would be known as the troublemaker.

“You can’t,” Fumikage said shortly. “You were obviously struggling.”

The blonde stood up, fists clenched and jaw set. His eyes had a certain fire to them; defiance, anger… panic?

Tokoyami was left confused for a moment by that, but just for a moment, before Bakugou shouted and broke the spell.

“No I fucking wasn't! I didn’t need your damn help,” Bakugou roared, jabbing his finger into Fumikages chest.

“You asked for my help,” the bird responded, bewildered.

“Well, I… uh…”

Bakugou trailed off, seeming stumped for a second, and Fumikage almost thought he had convinced him. But only almost. So what came next wasn’t a surprise.

“Well, obviously, I didn’t need it,” Bakugou shouted, an ugly sort of rage marring his face. “So get out of my way, you goddamn extra!”

And with that, he shoved past Fumikage and stormed out of the gym, shoving past staring gym goers and throwing the doors open as hard as he could, a horrible crunch sounding from their wood.

Fumikage steadied himself, brushing his shirt where Bakugou had touched him. He heard Dark Shadow speak in a soft, comforting sort of voice.

“Don’t bother with him. He’s a mess.”

Fumikage sighed; she was right, but he didn’t like to admit it. Still, he wondered what exactly was going on with Bakugou Katsuki.

With any luck, he would never know… but, somehow, he felt like he was going to find out.

That wasn't a pleasant thought, he decided. Not because he wasn't curious. Just because he felt that whatever issues the boy had ran deep. He started putting up the weights Bakugou had used, a pit slowly forming in his gut.

You're right, Fumikage thought towards Dark Shadow. He's not worth the trouble. Still. I wish I could…

His quirk suddenly materialized, the shadows of the room pulling themselves into her form with the sound of a light breeze and the smell of raw meat.

“Could what,” she asked, putting a weight back in its proper place. “Help him? He doesn't want to be helped, obviously.”

Fumikage sighed.

“Is that stupid?”

“Yeah, kinda,” the quirk said. “I can’t stop you, though.”

Just as Fumikage was about to respond, a voice rang out; a security guard, walking towards him with an air of annoyance.

“Hey! No quirk use in the gym, kid.”

Dark Shadow quickly vanished.

 

---

 

Screams. Blood. And, finally… nothing at all.

Nobody ever found out what happened that day.

Nobody ever could.

When they came, only chunks of gore remained. When they came, there was only one person still alive. A boy.

A boy with the head of a raven. A boy with a notoriously violent quirk.

Nobody could ever prove it was him.

Nobody could ever make the boy pay for the crime he had obviously committed.

But everybody knew what he had done.

 

Notes:

HERES THE UPDATE

My computer broke I wrote this on a tablet. So... formatting might be wack.

REDUX ORIGINAL, this chapter NEEDED to be in the OG but it WASN'T??? I like this chapter, it characterizes Tokoyami, his relationship with Bakugou, HEAVILY hints at his backstory, elaborates on his relationship to All Might, and sets up Hayano's shitty (but well meaning) parenting and it's effects on Tokoyamis physical and mental health.

Chapter 6: Two Antisocial Losers and the Quest for Basic Human Interaction

Summary:

Toga and Tomura spend a day out.

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of shitty parenting and its effects, mentions of violence, Mentions of elder abuse.

Tomura picked up his root beer float and sipped it carefully, watching Toga as she shoveled her fourth cheeseburger into her mouth.

“This place is sooo good,” she said, somehow enunciating with an entire double-stack in her mouth. “Americans actually eat like this every day?”

Tomura shrugged and took another sip of his horrendously sweet beverage, shuddering slightly at the taste. Good, but very sweet. And his diet was at least 40% sweets by weight.

“That's a bit of a cliche,” he rasped. “But functionally? Yeah.”

They were at an American-style burger joint near Aldera Junior High, just three days after the Sludge Incident; both of their caretakers had been forced to fend off waves of ravenous reporters, most of them from the local publishing firm, Shoowaysha Publishing. Tomura was surprised that they still had enough employees to harass them, but he supposed a company as big as that firm could bounce back from any amount of unjustified layoffs.

Now, finally, Toga and Tomura had been able to find time to ‘hang out’. Something that still felt weird to him. Forbidden, almost? Or just so unfamiliar that he couldn't properly conceive it?

“Wait, wait… don't tell me,” Toga gasped. “You've been to America? You're talking like you've been!”

Tomura took a sip of his drink and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Well… yeah, I guess so. With… another foster family.”

His tone of voice was grim, and Toga picked up on it immediately. She quickly changed the subject.

“Well, uh…”

She trailed off. And then put her head in her hands.

“I don’t know how this works…”

That pushed a soft chuckle out of Tomura, something he wasn't expecting. They could agree there, he thought. He hadn't even thought he would make it this far.

“Neither do I,” he admitted. “What, is this the part where we sing about the power of friendship?”

“Nah,” she snorted, shoving a handful of fries into her mouth. “This is the part where we suddenly bump fists and become best friends for life.”

She held out a fist and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“What sort of fucking shows are you watching,” Tomura questioned. That got a laugh out of her; a high, almost creepy sound.

“Just do it. Trust me, it'll work,” she said with a grin. “The second your fist touches mine, rainbows will fill the room and we will be forced into permanent friendship.”

Tomura still had no clue what she was referencing, or what sort of friendship ritual she was trying to initiate, but he figured it was worth a try.

For the last two days, they had been trying to get to know each other during their lunch periods. Toga told him that it was how she made “friends” at her old school; they would tell her something, she would tell them something. Just like that.

Well, they knew a lot about each other now, Tomura thought. She knew that he had once nearly starved himself trying to beat a boss in Hollow Knight. He knew that she knew how to execute a total of 100 different hairstyles. But it just didn’t seem right. They didn’t feel like real friends yet, whatever that meant.

It wasn't for lack of trying. He wanted to be her friend, and he could tell that she wanted the same. But… neither had ever made a real, genuine friend before.

So here they were. Having an absurdly large meal (that Toga insisted on paying for) and trying to figure out what, exactly, they were doing wrong.

Tomura reached out his fist and lightly tapped hers.

They sat there for a second.

Then two.

And finally, Toga spoke.

“Rainbows.”

She giggled as if that were the funniest thing in the world, but Tomura only looked down at his hand, a frown on his face.

What was he doing wrong?

Eventually, she took notice.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Don't worry, we’ll figure… this… out eventually.”

Tomura continued to stare at his hand.

“What if we don't,” he said suddenly. “What then? I mean, I want to be your friend, I really, really do, but… well, there might be a reason I’ve never made a friend.”

Tomura scowled at his own hand as if it held the answers he was looking for, and was refusing to give them.

“Maybe I’m just being stupid,” he said. But Toga shook her head, hard.

“You aren’t being stupid,” she said. “You’re allowed to feel that way. That just means I have to prove you wrong!”

Wait, what?

But before he could even ask, she suddenly stood and pointed a finger directly between his eyes, a wide, fanged smile on her face. He instinctively leaned away, but that only prompted her to place her finger directly on the bridge of his nose.

“We’re gonna be such great friends, you won’t even know what hit you,” she exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. The other customers in the restaurant were starting to stare, which sent an odd sort of shiver down Tomura’s spine.

“Listen,” she continued. “Samuel and Tetsukira told me I have to be back by ten, but we still have plenty of time to do friend stuff! Here's the deal; We're both gonna choose a bunch of things, and we’ll alternate between the two of us; your thing, and then my thing, etcetera.”

Tomura swallowed dryly. Where did this sort of energy come from?

“What… if we run out of time?”

She smiled, as if the answer to his question was both obvious and a total bombshell.

“Then we carry on tomorrow,” she said. “C’mon, this has got to work! By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be so full of friendship, your hair will be rainbow colored!”

Tomura shuddered at the concept of rainbow colored hair, but found that he didn’t have the heart to deny her request.

“Well, alright,” he said. “Do your worst.”

 

---

 

FRIENDSHIP ACTIVITY #1

TOMURA’S CHOICE

GAMING

 

Naturally, Tomura’s first thought was to play a video game together. They encouraged teamwork, he thought. Working together to achieve a common goal would undoubtedly help. At least, he hoped.

So the two made their way to Tomuras apartment, which probably housed one of the largest video game collections in Japan. Kakari Fuhai was not there. A note on the fridge read “gone shopping” in shaky handwriting.

The moment they stepped into Tomuras room, Toga started bouncing around, looking at every little thing and commenting on it, as if she had never been there before. Tomura supposed that her previous visit had been brief, but her excitement over something as simple as his room seemed excessive

“Oh my god,” she squealed, holding up one of his many figurines. “Is this a Hero Killer figurine? Where did you even get this? Aren't they banned by the HPSC?”

He snatched the figurine away from her and put it back in its place with a gentle hand.

“It was custom made for me… in the past,” he said cautiously. He hoped that she wouldn't pry; he didn't exactly want to spill his guts about everything he owned.

You don't want to remember them.

Luckily for him, she had already moved to the next thing; she had flung open his closet and was picking through his clothes, frowning as if he had personally offended her. She pulled out a plain black hoodie and held it up with a scowl on her face.

“What the hell is this?”

Tomura blinked, confused. What was she even talking about?

“It's… a hoodie?”

“It's, like, twice your size, and it's completely frayed,” she said incredulously. Why was she even making a big deal out of it?

“So? Buying big clothes saves money.”

She stared at him like he was stupid, her catlike eyes narrowing into slits.

“My first activity is gonna be a makeover,” she decided after a moment of tense silence. She threw the hoodie to the ground with a look of disgust and made her way to his dresser. The idea of a makeover made Tomura wish he had never agreed to this at all.

“Aren't we supposed to be bonding or whatever,” he asked, deadpan and annoyed. He didn't appreciate her pocking through his stuff. She just ignored him, opening his top dresser drawer with an air of annoyance.

“Oh my fucking god, all your socks are black.”

She held up a pair and shook them like dead fish. Tomura only rolled his eyes, annoyed at her dramatics.

She looked down at the dresser's second drawer, grabbed the handle, and suddenly flushed even more so than usual.

“Oh my god, I just realized how invasive I'm being,” she said. That got the slightest chuckle out of the pale-haired boy.

“Those are my gloves,” he said simply. She breathed a sigh of relief, but did not open the drawer.

“Alright. Let's do this thing,” she said, eyebrows furrowed.

Tomura quickly set up the controllers; a knockoff black one he had owned for years and a bright pink one that he had bought recently. Just because he wanted to, of course. No other reason.

“Alright, what sort of game do you want to play,” he asked, looking over one of his shelves. “I’ve got the newest Assassin's Creed- god, I can't believe they still make that slop- War of Attrition, Trial By Fire, HellT0rn-”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Toga interupted, her voice flat. Tomura turned to stare at her, incredulous.

“You don't know these games?”

“Nope,” she said, looking over his other shelf. “Why do you have so many games with shirtless dudes on the covers?”

She turned her head and smirked at him from over her shoulder.

“Shut up,” he snapped. But she only looked at his shelf again and grinned.

“Oooh, what about this one,” she said, picking out a game. She read the tagline out loud, making her voice husky; “Lovers by Night: Meet The Man of Your Dreams.”

“I fucking hate you,” he hissed. Despite his best efforts, his face was slowly reddening.

“You have a total of 30 dating sims, very interesting,” she observed, ignoring him entirely. “15 of them are furry themed. You really like hot animals, don't you?”

“The gloves are coming off,” Tomura growled. He made no move to actually remove them.

“Hey, I'm not judging,” she teased. “Plenty of artists would be out of a job without people like you.”

“They’re off,” he said. His gloves were not, in fact, off.

She returned the game to the shelf (in the wrong place) with a giggle, and picked out another, studying the case dutifully.

“I know this one,” she said brightly. “It’s a classic! It’s got multiplayer, right?”

In her hand was a copy of Street Fighter 6, its case worn with age. It was one of Tomura’s favorites, though he didn't find himself playing it often. It would definitely be fun to play it with her, at least. Assuming she didn’t suck. Actually, dogwalking her could be fun too.

“That's a good choice. In my top 10,” he said. “Go ahead and start it up.”

She did just that, and as the game started up, she picked up the pink controller and turned to him.

“I've never played a video game in my life,” she said plainly, not a hint of shame on her face.

Tomura stared at her as if she were from another planet. How had she managed to live as long as she had without playing a video game was a fucking mystery.

“Not even one?”

“Nope.”

Maybe a mystery worth looking into, he thought to himself.

Needless to say, Tomura was forced to walk her through the controls and some basic strategies. Though she had some confusion at first (“why the fuck would that button turn of my controller?”), everything worked out, more or less.

“Alright,” Tomura said, once they were done. “You ready to start?”

Toga gave a sharp nod, and Tomura sat up, a dark sort of grin playing at his lips.

“Just go easy on me,” she said.

Tomura nodded, though that grin still tugged at his lips, and the two of them got to choosing their characters. Tomura flicked over to Chun-Li with practiced ease, and Toga spent almost a minute looking at each character carefully before choosing Ryu with a sort of resigned sigh.

“They’re all lame,” she explained. “This way I have a tactical advantage.”

Tomura looked over at her, confused.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

She smirked. “This way, you'll be too busy looking at the shirtless buff dude.”

“I'm killing you after this,” the pale haired boy growled, his face heating up slightly.

“You wouldn’t,” she teased.

He adjusted his posture, preparing himself to kick her ass. He had said he would go easy, but as she had not extracted a promise from him, he was well within his right to change his mind.

Tomura allowed the blonde some time to adjust to the controls, watching with mild amusement as her character shuffled around awkwardly. Then he attacked.

With a quick combo, he sent her character towards the edge of the screen and won the first round with a series of simple attacks, not even giving her a chance to recover.

As the second round began, Toga glared at him sharply.

“You said you would go easy.”

“I will,” Tomura said. “From now on.”

And he did. The next round, he let her get a few hits in before folding her like paper. And the next.

Then something unexpected happened. Tomura was setting her up to fall into a particularly aggressive combo, when suddenly, Toga leaned forward and furrowed her eyebrows. That's when she started winning.

It was like somebody had flipped a switch in her head, and she suddenly became an expert; suddenly, she was using combos that even he couldn’t quite pull off, driving him towards the edge of the screen and taking him from full HP to critically low health in seconds. He just barely managed to escape her sudden onslaught, and, slightly shell shocked, shaved off her last bit of HP.

Once it was all over, Tomura turned to her, an unspoken question on his face; what the fuck.

She smiled sweetly back.

“I have my ways. Anyway… do ya think this worked, or…”

“I'm not gonna stick around and find out,” he cut in. “I feel like being beaten by a noob would ruin my day.”

Her face shifted, and her sweet smile turned creepier in an instant.

“That means it's my turn.”

 

---

 

FRIENDSHIP ACTIVITY #2

TOGA’S CHOICE

MAKEOVER

 

“It’s like I bought an emo off of craigslist.”

“My wardrobe is fine,” Tomura said.

“It's really not,” Toga sighed, holding up a leather jacket. “Maybe this… no, you're giving E-boy, not punk rock.”

“If you ever call me an e-boy again, I will kill you.”

The two of them had ended up in a clothing store near Aldera Junior High, looking through every item of clothing to find Tomura’s “aesthetic”. Personally, he had never subscribed to any particular way of dress; he chose colors that didn't hurt his eyes or draw attention to him, and dressed comfortably. He had never really thought about what he would like to wear; just what worked.

Toga, at first glance, seemed to be much the same; whenever he saw her in casual clothes, it was white on white on white. But she filled her life with so much pastels and pink and cutesy shit that he knew her plain clothing was a result of her caretakers meddling. Whoever they were, he had words for them…

“Okay, okay,” Toga said. “Not an e-boy. That was a joke anyway.”

She picked out a pair of black pants with an egregious amount of zippers.

“How about this?”

Tomura shook his head, a frown on his face.

“That’s ugly as shit. Why all the zippers and only two pockets?”

“Fair. Just covering my bases,” she said, putting the awful pants back in their place. “What colors do you like? You can't really wear all black, it would make your hair call more attention. And don't say red.”

“I don't like red,” Tomura scoffed. “Purple. Blue.” he paused, considering. Well, she might tease him, but she wasn't malicious. He hoped. “Pink.”

Toga suddenly choked on her own spit, and started coughing violently, shock on her face. Once she finally recovered, she stared at him like she had never seen him before in her life.

“Pink? You? Like, bright pink? Hot pink? Bubblegum pink?”

Tomura felt his face start to heat up. He really was getting embarrassed over everything today.

“No, those are too harsh on my eyes.”

“Then what?”

There was a long, tense silence. Tomura found that his heartbeat was faster than normal; he had never really expressed to anybody that he liked anything. He didn't want to be judged, after all. But now, here he was, practically spilling his guts.

Well, if there was anyone he would spill his guts to, it was Toga. Maybe she was bad when it came to snooping around and finding secrets, but he knew she would never spill one. That wasn't her style.

“… Pastel. Pink. Pastel pink,” he murmured, half hoping she couldn't hear.

“Pastel…”

He braced himself for the laughter.

“That goes with your hair,” Toga said, brushing some invisible dust from her skirt, composing herself. She seemed to be actively trying to stay calm. He appreciated that.

“Yeah, I guess,” he responded. “I can't wear it, though.”

Toga raised an eyebrow.

“Why not? Dye allergy?”

“No, just… it's embarrassing.”

And then Toga pinched his earlobe with no warning, causing him to hiss in pain, and spoke directly into his ear.

“I'm not having that here.”

She let go of him. Tomura swallowed dryly; he couldn't even be angry. If there was one person he wasn't going to get angry at, it was Toga. Partially because she was scary. Mostly because he would feel awful afterwards.

“If anybody makes fun of you for wearing pink, they're stuck in the 21st century, and I'll stab them,” she said. “You can wear anything you want to. And if anybody says otherwise, don't even pay attention to them. They’re a joke.”

Tomura stared at her, and she stared back. Then, realization dawned on her face.

“I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want to, of course,” she exclaimed, hands in the air. “If you really want to, we can buy something else.”

Tomura’s fists clenched. A sudden determination attacked his brain with relish. She was right. Who gave a fuck if he wore a bit of pink? It was his fucking business.

“No. I said pink. Purple. Blue.”

Toga smiled.

“That's what I like to hear. Come on.”

She led him deeper into the store, pulling him along by the wrist, but as they passed the fitting rooms, she paused, bringing her hand to her chin. She stood silent for a moment.

Tomura immediately started having doubts. Was this really a good choice? he didnt want to be judged. He was good at slipping into the background. He had done it all his life. It was a survival tactic. Would he really just give that up? What then? With as villainous as he looked…

Then Toga turned, rather silently, but calling Tomura’s attention, and looked over him; a quick up-and-down motio.n, as if she were scanning him.

“Whatever you're thinking,” he muttered, feeling judged, ”just spit it out.”

But she didn't. She just began walking around him, looking at him from every angle. He felt scrutinized, but this was Toga. He trusted her. More than anybody else, at least. He had made his choice, and backing down now would be pathetic. She was the fashion expert, so he allowed himself to be looked over.

Toga hummed and leaned forwards, taking a closer look at his face, her eyes taking in his scars and cracked skin.

“Hey,” she said, stepping back. “Have you ever considered wearing a skirt?”

Tomura opened his mouth, prepared to give a hearty no. Not because he gave a fuck what other people wore. He just wasn't interested himself.

…

Was he?

Now that he thought of it, had Tomura ever given thought to how he dressed or looked at all? He was used to throwing on whatever. He was practically on autopilot, really. Would he want to wear a skirt?

His brain's immediate answer was no, but he had learned not to trust his brain. It had a bad habit of turning against him. Instead, he really thought about it.

“... I guess it wouldn't kill me.”

Toga nodded, her face carefully neutral.

“Alright,” she said. “We’ll try it out. And if you aren’t a fan of it, no harm, no foul.”

And so they did. Toga no longer had to practically drag him around, and Tomura found himself hesitantly asking about different clothing items. He didn't know why, but he felt less guarded. That scared him. He felt… weak.

Well, Toga didn’t seem to mind, at least. Though she didn't hesitate to denounce some particularly heinous choices. That was… good. Toga was nice, supportive. He didn't know how to feel about that, but at least he knew she wouldn't mock him. Hopefully.

“Yea or nay,” Toga asked, holding up a pair of pants. Techwear, Tomura thought, though he really had no clue.

“That works,” Tomura said, looking at the many buckles and pockets. “The zippers have a purpose this time.”

“Noted,” Toga said, and produced a notepad from somewhere under her shirt. “Practicality…”

Tomura leaned over and looked at her notepad. Her flowing cursive handwriting had already noted several things; no red. No green. No yellow (which was double underlined). She had also noted his preference for practical clothes, simple, yet effective patterns and designs, and “emo sensibilities”. He was surprised she cared enough to note it all down, even if that last bit was annoying.

“How about this one,” Toga said, holding up a shirt with fashionable rips along its bottom half.

“I'm not showing that much skin. I’m textured like a fuckin desert.”

That pushed a sigh out of the blonde as she returned the shirt to its proper place. 

“What's the point of having abs if nobody ever sees them…,” she lamented. He ignored her. He found that pretending that she had never seen him shirtless was the optimal solution.

They went on like that for a while, pulling out one thing or another, rejecting the worst pieces and putting the best ones aside to be tried on later.

Ultimately, they found five only moderately revealing shirts (he had caved and chosen out a crop top), seven pairs of pants (three were techwear, four were adorned with chains that Toga found abysmal and Tomura found badass), all sorts of jackets and other accessories, and three skirts.

Tomura wasn't the type to keep himself in suspense. When he suspected somebody was fucking with him, he didn’t wait for the other shoe to drop. So when it came time to try it all on, he went straight for the skirts; might as well get it over with.

The first one was a sort of plaid pink-and-black monstrosity. By itself it looked ugly as sin, but when paired with his reluctantly chosen crop top, Tomura liked it. When he looked in the mirror, he felt odd, but in a good way? Sure, his face was still scarred, and he still had no eyebrows, but he felt just a little less ugly.

And Toga seemed to agree.

“Oh my god! You are so cute in that,” she exclaimed, smiling widely, fangs showing. “You know, I had some doubts because you're so muscular, but you have the shape to pull it off.”

“I… I guess,” Tomura said. There was a silence… and then her words hit him. “Are you saying I have a girlish figure?”

Toga giggled at that.

“What? I mean, if you bulked up a bit, no, but as it is…”

She shrugged.

“You’re kinda giving twunk,” she finished. Tomura’s jaw dropped. He didn't even know what that meant, but knowing her, it was a vicious jab.

“Thats it, I’m fucking killing you,” he said. He made no move to remove his gloves, only placed his hand on her arm. She laughed at that and pushed his hand away.

“Shit, I’m fucking dead,” she said dramatically, still laughing. “Oh, the humanity! I will never know the touch of a woman! Never will my head be crushed between Mirko’s thighs!”

Tomura let out a bark of laughter at that.

“Mirko? Fucking please, why Mirko? If it must be a hero, at least let it be Ingenium,” he hissed, rolling his eyes.

“Please,” Toga snarked. “Have you seen her? I love a woman that could kick my ass. Or are you just, like, super gay?”

“There's a difference between can kick your ass and will kick your ass.”

Toga nodded, as if this confirmed her suspicions.

“Yeah, you just don't get it,” she said smartly, as if that explained the secrets to the universe. “Go on and try the next one!”

With a roll of his eyes, he did just that. The next skirt- well, it wasn't a skirt. It was straight up a dress, but he really didn't care enough to seperate the two in his head- was covered in frills and bows and sewn “x” patterns, in purple and black. Toga had called it Gothic lollita, whatever the hell that meant.

The dress was… well, he liked it. But he felt just a little uncomfortable in it. His gut was telling him no. Or, at least, not yet. Toga seemed to agree.

“No. It's just not hitting right,” she said, head shaking. “Your vibe totally changed.”

Tomura wondered what she meant by that. Could she really tell what he was thinking just by looking at him? How?

As they continued on, it quickly became apparent that Tomura wasn't comfortable with anything too feminine. Dresses were a bunk. Heels? Hell no. And he didn't even bother to try the tube top, much to Togas disappointment. He was throughly convinced that she was a secret pervert.

Tomura slowly found himself growing a bit less apprehensive as they continued. Toga was gentle, not trying to force him to do anything. He appreciated that. In the end, most of the outfits were accepted, save for the most feminine.

“Alright,” Toga said, once everything had been either accepted or denied. “That's everything.”

Tomura sighed.

“Finally,” he groaned. “Let's get out of here…”

Toga suddenly laughed, and shoved several clothing items into his hands.

“Hold these. And, no, we aren't done. We're getting you some hygiene supplies.”

Tomura’s eyes widened. No. She was joking.

“I have hygiene supplies,” he said, annoyed. “Obviously.”

“Like what?”

Tomura paused for a long, awkward moment. He thought about lying, but he couldn't quite make himself.

“Toothpaste,” he said, embarrassed. “Body wash.”

Toga stared at him, clearly waiting for him to continue. When he did not, a look of horror crossed her face.

“Yeah, we're getting hygiene supplies. And then you can choose your next activity.”

Tomura sighed. But, in his mind, he was already thinking about what they would do next…

 

---

 

FRIENDSHIP ACTIVITY #3

TOMURA’S CHOICE

BAKING

 

When they finally returned from their shopping spree, Tomura brought Toga back to his apartment, and told her his idea, anxious that she wouldnt like it.

“Baking?” She asked. She was laden with bags. So was Tomura. They had ultimately bought so many things that Tomura couldn't begin to imagine what she planned to do with all of it.

“You know how to bake,” She said. It was less of a question and more of a statement of disbelief.

“Yeah? Why is that so hard to believe,” he said, anxiety rising. Was she not a fan of the idea?

She only shrugged and hummed as they reached Tomura’s door. He fished out his keys once again, and unlocked the door, slowly growing more concerned.

“Well, we're making cookies,” he rasped, trying to get a definitive reaction out of her. “What kind is up to you, I guess.”

Toga gave one of her face-splitting smiles, excitement dancing in her eyes.

“Not blood,” he sighed.

Her smile dropped, she sighed melodramatically, and Tomura gently opened the door.

He froze.

Fuhai was in her chair.

Their eyes met. Fear flickered in her eyes. Guilt, fear, and shame shot though Tomura’s chest like a bullet. She nodded, shaking slightly, stood, and left the room. He heard her bedroom door gently close.

He suddenly felt much less excited to bake cookies. Toga, too, frowned. Her excitement dulled, almost a palpable change in the air around them, as if the air had grown thick with humidity. She looked over at him with concern in her eyes.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

He hated how worried she sounded. He didn't want her to worry. He didn't want anybody to be worried about him. He didn't deserve that.

“It's nothing,” he said, but Toga gave him a sharp look. “Fine,” he relented. “But not now. Let's worry about cookies now, or whatever.”

Toga nodded reluctantly, clearly unsatisfied with that answer. Good. He didn't want to talk about it. Not yet.

They both entered the kitchen, and Tomura produced two aprons and hairnets from the pantry. Once they were both fitted, he began pulling out all the ingredients and supplies they needed.

“I've never baked cookies in my life,” she said plainly, not a hint of shame on her face.

Tomura stared at her, incredulous.

“Have you never done anything?”

“Nope!”

Tomura sighed. Once again, he was left wondering about Toga’s past. The expert fighting skills, the dead look in her eyes, the mask that she slipped on and off so easily… but he couldn't focus on that. It wasn't the time or place, and even If it was, he already too much to think about…

“Well, I'll walk you through it,” he said.

And he did just that.

They both knew he didn't have his heart in it.

 

---

 

They were in his room again, Tomura sitting on the bed as Toga animatedly explained the products she had bought him earlier. But the atmosphere was tense. Tomura was only half listening as Toga talked. He wanted to pay attention, to make this work, but he was distracted. How couldn't he be? Kakari Fuhai was right down the hallway, hiding in her room.

Hiding from him.

He had lost his temper. He knew that. He had lost his temper and… something bad could have happened. She could have been seriously hurt.

What a delicate way to put it.

He willed his brain to shut up. It refused.

You're disappointed, aren't you?

That was a blatant lie. No. No, he didn't want to kill Fuhai. Only a monster-

LIAR.

Tomura flinched. Toga noticed.

“Hey, are you okay?” When he nodded, her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Actually,” she said, “Have you been listening to me at all?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, not having the mental fortitude for much else. His mind was racing. Emotions tore through his brain like claws, and grabbing hold at any one of them was impossible. Guilt. Shame. Regret.

Anger. Disappointment. Excitement.

Toga scowled, sighed, and held up a bottle of shampoo.

“I was saying, you'll want to use this twice a week. If you use it everyday, it'll dry your scalp out worse. And…”

He tried to cling onto her words, but focusing was impossible with everything on his mind. Despite his best efforts, his attention drifted, back to the memory of his outburst…

He deserved to be punished, he knew that. He deserved to be…

He didn't know. He just wanted Fuhai to yell. Scream. Maybe throw another skillet at him. He wanted her to make him pay. But whenever he saw her, she just… nodded. Walked away. Why wasn't she angrier? She was living with a…

Murderer.

Monster. She was living with a monster.

Tomura hated having emotions. He hated having these feelings. Why couldn't he just feel… Nothing? Nothing at all. Then he couldn’t be hurt…

“TOMURA!”

The pale-haired boy jumped as Toga suddenly yelled, snapping her fingers in his face. She sighed loudly as he muttered a vague apology.

“Tomura, cmon,” she said. “Whatever happened between you and Fuhai is obviously still on your mind. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Tomura shook his head sharply. He seriously didn't.

“Nothing happened,” he countered, but Toga just rolled her eyes.

“Bullshit. You literally said earlier that you would tell me,” she said, frustration building in her tone.

Tomura cursed his lack of foresight. Why couldn't he have stuck with his lie earlier?

“Well, like I said. Not now,” he muttered.

The blonde stamped her foot, glaring at him with that strange neutral expression she always wore when upset.

“Why not? Can you at least tell me why not?”

He just shook his head. He couldn't. Even he didn't fully understand. Emotions were never his strongsuit, after all… 

Toga glared at him expectantly, for a moment, then sighed.

“No wonder this isn't working,” she grumbled bitterly. That shocked Tomura out of his stupor. What? What in the world did she mean by that? What had he done?

She apparently noticed his confusion, and began pacing.

“How do I explain this…” she muttered. After a moment of silence, the answer seemed to come to her, and she turned to him, still uncharacteristically serious, her face utterly blank. He could tell that she was angry, but her expressions… they never seemed to fully communicate that.

“Tomura, you don't trust me,” she said. “Like, at all.”

The pale haired boys mouth fell open, and he pointed at the bags they had brought from the mall.

“What the hell do you mean? I let you choose out-”

“So what!? I can choose out a billion fuckin clothes and skirts and such for you. But when it comes down to it, you shut yourself off! You become like a steel bunker! This is all… this is just surface level! You want to be friends, but you've hardly put in the work!”

“Yes I have!” Tomura rasped, frustration building, threatening to explode. “What do you think we've been doing all day?”

“NOTHING,” Toga yelled, her face finally, finally, becoming a proper scowl. “We can play video games and bake cookies and go shopping all day long, but that isn't the same as really getting to know each other, who we are on the inside!”

“How would you know? You've never even had a real friend-!”

“EXACTLY,” she screamed, causing Tomura to flinch. “This is just more of that! If we want to be real friends…” her tone softened, and she looked down at her hands, voice suddenly shaking.

“Please,” she said. Almost whispered. “Please be real with me. Just for a moment. I want… a real friend. I want you to be my friend.”

Tomura’s anger and frustration shattered like glass. He couldn't stay mad at her. Because she was right, wasn’t she? He couldn’t grow close to anybody if he kept his emotions locked away at all times. But still… that scared him. He didn't want to let anyone in. Ever.

…

But if he had to choose somebody, he would choose Toga. If only because nobody else could understand. Not fully.

“Fine,” He said. “But you have to do the same.”

Toga blinked, surprised.

“What?”

“Exactly what I said. You have to be real with me too. Or this will never work. You shut off, like a robot. You never let yourself be real, either.”

A moment of tense silence.

And then she nodded.

“Fine. I'll do the same,” she said, apprehension suddenly in her voice, as if she didn't expect the tables to be turned on her.

Tomura patted the spot on the bed next to him and gathered up the courage to speak as Toga sat. 

Murderer.

He grit his teeth and spoke before he could lose the nerve.

“I'll tell you what happened between me and Fuhai,” he said.

Toga leaned forward and nodded, giving him her full intention. Tomura swallowed dryly. Why was this so difficult?

“Well… I mean…” Another dry swallow. “We were arguing. After the thing with the Sludge villain. She… well, she was convinced I had gotten into that fight on purpose.”

Toga nodded. “I get it. What happened?”

He looked away from her. He couldn't bear to meet her eyes.

“Well. She threw a skillet at me-”

“WHAT!?”

Toga was already standing, and Tomura had to grab her arm to stop her from making a beeline to the door..

“She missed, it's fine,” he said. She looked back at him, staring incredulously for a moment, before she decided to sit back down, huffing.

“Better have fuckin missed,” she muttered viciously.

She turned her head to Tomura and nodded, inviting him to complete his story. He decided to oblige.

“Well, after that,” he rasped, ”she tried to take Fa- ah, my hand from my face.”

Toga’s expression became unreadable. He didn't know what to take from that, so he plowed forward, hoping he hadn't said anything wrong.

“And then… I don't know what happened. I got so angry… nauseous. And the itch… I just lunged.” His voice shook. “I realized what I did, and I ran off, but…”

The last of the story told itself.

“That was dumb,” Toga said. Before Tomura could speak up, she cut him off. “And yes, I know you already know that. But it was important to say.”

Tomura found that he couldn't really dispute that.

“Even so,” she continued, “I get it. Really. Sometimes your emotions… they get to be too much. Especially when something you care about is affected like that. But… well, you feel bad, right?”

Tomura nodded. That much was obviously true.

“So apologize. Even if she doesn't accept it, it's worth it to try.”

Tomura froze.

Something so simple had hit him like a bomb to the face. Apologizing seemed so obvious. But he hadn't even thought of it before. 

“But… how?”

Toga shrugged.

“I'm just trying to sound like Tetsukira- one of my caretakers. He's got a degree in psychology.”

He stared at her, incredulous. That was where all her advice came from? After a moment, she let out the tiniest of giggles.

“Well, it works, apparently,” she said. “I'm not pretending I’m an expert. I'm a clinically insane freak with a kill count. Take my advice with a bucketful of salt.”

Tomura let the smallest of smiles tug on his lips. But it quickly fell, and his attention turned fully to Toga.

“Well, it's your turn, right? Time to fess up,” he muttered.

Toga’s amusement vanished, and she averted her eyes.

“Well…”

She trailed off. Said nothing. And, after a moment, she nodded.

“Fine. Just… promise not to share this with anyone.”

Tomura nodded, and Toga sighed. A half dreamy, half horrified look appeared on her face. It made for a unsettling sort of dissonance

“Let me tell you about my first crush.”

 

Notes:

This chapter was missing from the old version. A lot of Toga and Tomuras friendship developed offscreen, including some *very* important conversations. There were things in the og story that I was fine with being offscreen, but this wasn't one of them

Chapter 7: The Stories We Tell

Summary:

Himiko tells Tomura about her first crush, as promised.
In the meanwhile, Katsuki finds some strange things.

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Shitty parenting and its effects, Stabbing, Blood, Blatant invasion of privacy, I'm sure the blood drinking scene has SOME sort of additional trigger warning, but I have no clue what.

Himiko filled in her last few answers on her most recent quiz, and, after double checking her answers, turned it face down on her desk as instructed. Since she was the first to finish, she decided to open her textbook and review the upcoming material. She had already done so several times, but there was no harm in going over it again.

She flipped through the pages of her textbook, waiting for their lunch period to begin. She would catch up with Koichi, Jinah, and Marai then. Afterwards, it was back to class. Then she’d head to her piano lesson, followed by studying, dinner, and an hour of free time before bed.

The same thing, every single day. Class. Lunch. Class. Lessons or clubs. Study time. Dinner. Free time. Bed.

Every single day. Each and every second felt the same.

Of course, she was grateful. Her parents just wanted her to be Normal. She could wear her mask because of their schedule. Without it, she would…

Well, she didn’t know what would happen. Something… bad.

It was good. This was good. She could wear her mask like anybody else. This was right.

She knocked her fist against her temple, trying to clear her head and focus on her studies. She couldn't get lost in thought. But she could feel stress creeping up on her. She didn’t like that feeling.

Well, at least she had some free time during lunch. It was always nice to talk to her friends. If she could even describe them like that. They didn't know each other, not really. They only knew each other's masks.

But that was alright! That was how it was supposed to be. If she didn't hide the truth, then…

Himiko shuddered. She didn't know whether it was from fear or not.

“Hey, Toga! You alright?”

Toga’s head snapped upwards, her attention pulled away from her thoughts. One of her classmates was standing over her, a smile on their face.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Himiko said politely, returning their smile. “I got distracted. Is it already lunch?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah, you’re late. Just thought I’d tell you, since you looked pretty invested.”

Himiko gave a polite little laugh. “Yeah, I would’ve studied all through lunch again. Thanks a bunch.”

“No problem,” the boy said. With that, he turned and left, and Himiko began packing her bag. Book, pencils, notebook, all neatly placed into her bookbag. Right where they belonged. As it should be…

She pushed out a breath and began to make her way to the lunchroom, past crowds of chatting students and teachers trying to create order. She smiled and waved at a few people she knew well, and they waved back. Of course they did.

Finally, she made her way to the lunchroom, if not extremely late, and spotted Koichi and Marai, near the back of the lunchroom. They waved her over, and she made her way to them quickly, not bothering to pick up lunch. She wasn't hungry, anyway.

“Hey, girl,” Marai started, before Himiko could even sit down. “I went to that dance show you were in yesterday! I knew you had moves, but that was amazing!”

Himiko chuckled lightly as she sat, putting her bookbag next to her seat.

“It wasn’t much,” she said. “I wasn’t even onstage for long…”

“Oh, shut up,” Koichi said, flipping his shock of bright blue hair out of his eyes. “I saw a recording online. You were great, stop being humble.”

Himiko gave a closed-mouth smile in response.

“Well, okay. I guess I was alright .”

Himiko’s friends - if you could really call them that - were a mess, but that was why she liked them. They brought a bit of variety to her life. She liked her orderly life, or she tried to, but a bit of fun couldn’t hurt, even if her parents didn’t like them. Even so, Himiko couldn’t think of anybody she’d rather spend her time with. Even if they didn’t really know her…

“I’ll let that go, cuz I know it’s the best I’ll get out of you,” Mirai said, flicking a crumb out of her fur. “By the way, have you seen Jinah? She wasn’t in class today.”

“Probably skipping again,” Koichi said dismissively, flipping his hair out of his eyes again. Himiko refused to comment on it. He needed to be humbled, even if his hair was great.

“I haven't spotted her either. And why would she skip lunch, anyway?” Himiko questioned. Jinah skipped all the time, but she loved food. She never missed a chance to eat.

Koichi just shrugged, picking up his chopsticks and pointing at her, eyebrow raised.

“You missed lunch three times last week. You tell me .”

Mirai cackled as Himiko scrambled to defend herself, suddenly flustered.

“Hey, I was studying,” she said defensively, crossing her arms. “You know how I can get caught up!”

Mirai cackled even louder, slamming her fist against the table.

“Girl, you are so lame ! Do something fun! Spray paint a van or something, cmon!”

Himiko scowled and turned away, arms crossed. She actually felt a bit hurt, though she didn't betray that

“I do tons of fun things,” she said lamely. But she already knew it was a lie. She didn’t do anything that wasn’t on her schedule.

 Class. Lunch. Class. Lessons or clubs. Study time. Dinner. Free time. Bed. That was all that there was. All there would ever be.

Koichi snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, right. Anyway, you wanna text Jinah, Mirai? My phone is dead.”

Mirai let out a few more erratic giggles before pulling out her phone. A sharp twinge of jealousy stabbed at Himiko’s heart. Mirai got to be so genuinely happy, and all Himiko got was…

She pushed the thoughts out of her head. She was being ungrateful. Her life was good. Her parents made lots of money. She was talented, smart, skilled. She had nothing to complain about. Looking a bit creepy wasn’t something to complain about. The urges she felt were minor, so long as she kept herself busy, pushed them down , ignored the burn, wore her mask…

“Alright, I’m texting her,” Mirai said, before typing something out. “Hey, Toga, wanna watch the video I recorded of the dance show?”

“Oh, sure,” Himiko said politely. But before she could take Mirai’s phone, a familiar tone rang out; the school bell.

“Shit,” Koichi said, looking over at Himiko as he picked up his bag. “Guess you know not to be late next time, huh?”

“Language,” she responded blankly, picking up her own bag.

Mirai snorted. “What, Toga, can’t handle a little cussing?”

“We’re in school,” Himiko said, frowning. “That’s inappropriate.”

The three began making their way out of the lunchroom, Mirai and Koichi joking all the while. Himiko could only listen. She always seemed to be the odd one out, in a way. They bounced off each other so easily. And when Jinah was around, Himiko was almost drowned out completely. 

She didn’t miss how she was always the one they made jokes about. She was the straight-laced one, the no-nonsense one. That was her role. That was the mask she wore for them.

She wasn’t the one making jokes, laughing, smiling. They were. She wasn’t one of them . She was hardly even human.

But who was? Weren’t they all wearing masks? Hiding who they truly were, their own urges. Even so, her’s was different. Why was she the only one who felt like her mask was crumbling? She didn't understand . SHe was so tired of hiding, of being normal…

Just as the three were about to split up to head to their individual classes, however, she spotted him. Saito. She had seen him before. He was cute, she knew that. She had looked at him through the corner of her eye for months now. She had even thought of asking for his blood, once or twice. But right now…

He had fluffy black hair, tall and lean and soft-faced. He looked bruised and bloody. He reeked of that coppery, wonderful smell that she tried so desperately tried to avoid. But he was so beautiful, bruised and bloody and perfect… had he gotten into a fight? The poor thing… but he looked so perfect… smelled so perfect… she couldn't stop staring…

Her mouth watered. Her throat burned like fire. Her face grew hot as blush spread across her cheeks. She found herself rooted to the spot, completely frozen, drawn in by the sight, by the smell . By the shape of his jaw, the way he walked with the slightest limp, his calloused hands. His eyes were deep wells, tempting her to plunge in, and never crawl back out. His every movement pulled her in.

She didn't know what this was. It was awful. It was wonderful . Something about him was so hypnotizing. She needed him. She needed his blood . She needed to be him.

She could follow him. She’d use her pencil to stab him when he was alone. Then she would drink. Drink and drink and drink until she felt like she would burst. She’d show her love for him. Because she did, she loved him, that was it, that's what she was feeling! She loved him so much! Then she’d become him, she would love to be somebody so cute! She’d-

“Hey, Toga, you alright? You kinda… froze up.”

Mirai’s voice cut through the cloudy, burning, horrible thoughts, and Himiko snapped back to reality. She yanked her eyes from the boy, blocking out the stench of blood, ignoring the burning of her throat, shoving down the disgusting, terrible thoughts that continued to try to assault her mind.

“Oh I’m… I’m fine, just… got distracted, is all,” she said, stammering as she continued to try to supress the images racking her brain. It wasn’t stopping . All she wanted to do was force the thoughts down, but more and more sick images attacked her mind. 

Mirai chuckled, seemingly unaware of Himiko's struggle.

“Is it that boy,” she said, pointing. Himiko refused to look.

“What boy? N-no, it’s not that, I don’t know who you mean,” she said. She struggled against waves of nausea and thirst. But she was succeeding in shoving it down, slowly. Slowly.

“Stop lying,” Koichi said, twirling his hair around his finger. “You know that’s Saito, right? He’s a mess. All he does is get into fights. Or do you like bad boys?”

“I don't like-”

“Oh, goody two shoes Toga, liking bad boys? Especially him. Juicy drama,” Mirai said.

“I-,” Himiko started, but she was quickly cut off.

“Don’t deny it,” Koichi said, deadpan. “Maybe it’s out of a desire for some fun in your-”

The images assaulting Himiko's mind, the urges, the burning of her throat- she felt like her heart was burning, her teeth ground, and-

And she snapped.

“I wasn’t looking at him! Stop poking fun at me, leave me alone! I can’t stand you,” She screamed, despite her rational brain desperately telling her to stop. “All you do is make fun of me, and - and I just- LEAVE ME ALONE!”

The two went silent, staring in shock. Toga had never so much as raised her voice at them. She was shocked herself, but she could hardly think straight. All she could think of was blood…

After a moment, Koichi hesitantly spoke up.

“Hey, chill out, it’s just a joke-”

“FUCK YOU!” Himiko screeched. She could see people turning to stare, students whispering, but she was too angry, stressed, and scared to care.

She stomped away, to her classroom. Away from that boy. Away from her “friends”. All she could do was fight the urges. Pretend she had never seen him at all. But all through class, all she could do was think about him. His face. His blood. She wanted to forget, she couldn’t forget. He was in her brain, and she didn’t know why.

All through dance class, she couldn’t focus. She couldn’t focus during dinner. She couldn’t do anything during her free hour. She lay awake that night, thinking of him, only him. She tried to push it down. She failed. She hated him. She loved him. She was thirsty, so thirsty.

She bit down on her wrist, drinking away at her bitter, rancid blood. It was disgusting, but soothing. He would taste better. But it was better that she hurt herself than succumb.

She could never succumb.

 

---

 

Katsuki Bakugou roared as he aimed an explosion directly at the thick trunk of the tree in front of him. After a loud BOOM, a horrid splintering sound, and a resounding crash, the tree was laid to waste. Katsuki smirked. It wasn't even a challenge.

The forest behind his house was the only place he could legally train. There was 20, maybe 30 feet of forest that fell into his parents property line. That was all he had, and even then, if he was too loud, people would bitch about the noise. It wouldn't piss him off too bad, if that creepy ass extra and that couple she stayed with didn't live in a nearby apartment complex. The two men kept complaining about the noise, and the girl - Tura, he thought her name was, not that he gave a fuck - was creepy as all hell. He didn’t trust her for a second. In school, she was always leering at someone like some sort of hungry animal, and whenever he spotted her through his window or from the backyard, she would give that creepy, face-splitting smile.

Katsuki was getting pissed off just thinking about the creep. She really thought she was something… that girl had somehow put the thought of being a hero into Kusatta’s head. Katsuki didn't think it was possible, but she talked about it all the time; their upcoming application to UA, musing on what the entrance exam would be like, the whole nine yards. Kusatta seemed frustrated, and maybe a bit embarrassed, but he never denied it.

Kusatta talked about heroes like one would talk about shit on your shoe. Katsuki still remembered when he was new to the school; he was more talkative then. Still, if you brought up heroes, he would shut down immediately. And it only got worse as time went on, until…

Katsuki scowled. Great job reminding yourself, he thought. Now he was even more pissed off. He decided to vent that anger by wrecking another tree. The resulting crash was even louder than the last.

Probably too loud.

He glanced toward the nearby apartment buildings. He knew which apartment was Turas; they always had their curtains drawn. Today seemed to be an exception, though; he could see a shape in front of a window: the American one, Samuel. Katsuki only knew his name because he loved to bitch and moan about everything his family did. At the moment, he seemed to be cleaning something off the window, though Katsuki had no idea what. Some kind of red liquid, like juice, or…

…

What the fuck?

Katsuki inched closer, hoping to get a closer look. He had to have imagined it…

But no. A better view only confused him further. Why the hell was it so dark in there? He could see the liquid on the window, and the man cleaning it, but beyond that, pitch blackness. It was a bit late, yeah. The sky was getting pretty colorful. But that room was so dark… too dark…

Katsuki felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine as he stared into the room. He tried to force down the feeling. Fear didn't jive with him. But looking into that darkness freaked him out. He inched forwards once more, and…

Samuel's head snapped towards him, and he immediately hid behind a tree. Blood on the window, a pitch black room, and a creepy ass staring dude. That was some horror movie shit. But still… he was curious. And he absolutely wasn’t some kind of fucking pussy. Anything but. He was the best. The future #1. Creepy middle aged dudes didn't scare him.

So he stepped out of his hiding spot and looked over at the window again.

The American was gone. There was still blood smeared on the window. Katsuki assumed that the bastard had gone to complain to his parents. That meant he only had so much time to pull off his plan, which, by his own admission, was idiotic. He was going to break in. But the way he saw it, if there was blood on the window, shit was going down in there. He could beat the hell out of that family, but he'd probably get arrested, and he would never get into UA then. So he would investigate instead. Stealthy style, or whatever.

He quickly made his way to the window. The closer he got, the worse the chill on his spine became. Even as he approached, the room remained pitch black. Now that he was closer, he was pretty damn sure it was some sort of mist; it clung to the window like tendrils. And his suspicion was more and more likely. That smeared liquid looked way too much like blood.

He stepped back. Whatever the hell was going on in that house was none of his business.

A pause.

And then he approached the window and reached out to open it.

 

---

 

Himiko Toga felt like she was falling apart.

She could hardly remember to brush her hair in the morning.

More and more scars appeared on her wrists as she fought her urges. 

She saw him everywhere. Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. In the halls. In the lunchroom. In the courtyard. He was always there, and everytime she saw him, all she could think of was how he looked that day, bruised and bloody. Horrible images assaulted her mind each time he crossed her vision. The desire to cut and maim, to see that wonderful, crimson liquid. She wanted it, so, so badly.

But she couldn’t succumb. She was fighting.

She was scared that she was losing.

And the news wasn’t helping.

It happened in her free hour. Well, free time . Since her grades had started dropping, it had been reduced to thirty minutes so she could study more. Not that it was helping. Nothing could help. Nothing but…

She had chosen to watch some television with what little time she had before bed. Her mother was putting her siblings down for bed already, and her father was going through his own bedtime routine. Himiko didn't have the willpower to start her own. Battling her urges made her feel so exhausted, and her parents had given up on trying to force her.

Himiko was mindlessly flicking through the channels on the TV. Nothing interesting was on. She didn't even know what she was looking for. 

Kids channel. Nope.

Action movie slop. No.

Made for tv romance. Hell no.

She almost flicked past the news channel as well, when it appeared. An image. A familiar image.

Red hair. Big, brown eyes. Square jawline. That looked just like…

“Jinah…?”

She leaned forward and listened closely, worry building in her. Why was Jinah on the news? She hadn't shown up for school in a few weeks, but she was always skipping school. Unless…

The news anchor was in the middle of speaking.

“-a student at Hiraija Junior High, was recently reported as missing. We at Shoowaysha News implore you to keep an eye out for this girl. We reached out to the parents of Homori Jinah; here's what they had to say…”

A middle-aged woman with a shock of graying red hair appeared on screen, a dark-skinned man around her age next to her. They both looked awful; disheveled, tears on their faces.

Those were Jinah’s parents. Himiko had seen them once before, when Jinah starred in the school play. And if those were her parents…

Himiko felt her hands begin to shake as the reality of the situation began to dawn on her. She felt sick. The world spun around her. The sound of the news program melted away. She felt tears beginning to run down her cheeks.

Jinah was… gone? So suddenly. One day, she was there, and the next, she was gone. Her friend, who never really knew her , but who she cared for, all the same. Gone. Vanished. Just like that, so easily.

Himiko had heard stories of people going missing. Of children , like her, like Jinah , going missing. Never found again, or washed up on a river bank, half rotted, or dug up by search animals, buried in the woods where nobody would find them. But she had never once considered that it could happen to somebody she knew. To a friend .

Anybody could go missing.

Anybody…

Even her.

Himiko silently stood and turned off the tv. Walked to her bedroom, flopped onto her bed without even taking off her shoes. Stared up at the perfectly white ceiling, still feeling tears on her face. Thinking. Thinking until exhaustion took her, sending her into a deep sleep.

 

The next day at school, Himiko walked into the classroom a mess. Her eyes were red and puffy, bags forming under them. Her hair was tangled and flattened on one side. Her uniform was hastily thrown on. Her eyes glazed over.

She stared at the ground as she walked in, feeling like she was floating, like she didn’t exist at all. She knew she looked like a mess. She knew that her parents would be unhappy to see her like this. She knew this would create rumors in school. But she couldn’t care. She could hardly even make her way out of bed.

She sat down, ignoring the staring and whispers. She was always perfect, she understood that. Recently, though, she had done nothing but ruin her reputation. She sat alone during lunch. She hardly spoke to anyone. Her grades were falling rapidly. But this was her worst fuck-up yet. But the last thing she had the energy to do was look nice.

Jinah…

Himiko tore her thoughts from the news about her friend. But her thoughts only drifted towards Saito…

She flinched as horrible thoughts assaulted her mind and heat rose to her cheeks. It was always the same, when she thought of him. She would find herself blushing and salivating, her throat burning, struggling to escape her mind's sick fantasies, and failing horribly. She was burning up inside, her control over herself crumbling to ashes. She didn’t know what to do. She didn't know what she could do.

She struggled with her thoughts as class crawled on. So, so, slowly. She couldn't focus at all. Her assignments sat uncompleted on her desk, and all she could do was stare down at her hands, trying not to think at all.

As class dragged on, she did her best to force herself to listen to her teacher. Something about quirk science… rats? Oh, that old theory. She had read ahead on this. She really didn't see why she should listen to this at all.

Saito would be in the halls when it was time for lunch. Then he would be in the cafeteria, and so would Mirai and Koichi. She didn't want to be in class. She didn't want class to end. She didn't want anything . She didn't feel anything. All that was in her was emptiness. Her sanity was being consumed by a vast feeling of absolute nullity .

She was tired. So tired. The last time she had felt this way…

Then she heard the lunch bell. Was class finally over? Already over?

Himiko looked down at her bag, next to her desk. If she picked it up, she'd have no choice but to walk into the hallway. But she couldn't stay here. There was no way to avoid Saito… or her “friends”. Not now, that class was over. She could try to avoid her friend's gaze… find some corner to sit in. But today, they would be looking for her. After the news the night before…

She grit her teeth and picked up her bag, which was growing heavy with incomplete assignments, broken pencils, and various other detritus. She'd clean it out later.

She just had to do it. If she made her way through the halls fast enough, she could avoid him .

So she slung the bag over her shoulder and began to walk as quickly as possible, out of the classroom, through the halls, her eyes on her feet as she tried not to catch a glimpse of anybody around her, in case he was there.

She sighed in relief as she stepped into the lunchroom and looked up from her shoes. Mirai and Koichi were nowhere to be found. Good. Maybe she could avoid them after all?

She quickly grabbed her food and found a table in the far corner of the room, keeping her head down as she sat and trying to seem as small as possible. She picked up her chopsticks and stared at her rice. She didn’t feel particularly hungry, now that the food was in front of her.

She sighed and put her chopsticks back down- just in time for a hand to land on her shoulder.

“Hey, Himiko, where the hell have you been?”

Himiko slowly turned around.

Mirai and Koichi were right behind her, looking very unhappy with her. Koichi took his hand off her shoulder and flopped down next to her, staring into her eyes. Mirai followed his example.

“So,” Mirai said.

Himiko swallowed.

“Please leave me alone,” she said. “I have enough on my plate.”

Koichi glared into her eyes even more angrily.

“Oh, so you aren’t even gonna try to talk to us about Jinah?”

Himiko flinched, and Mirai spoke up.

“And why have you been avoiding us? What, do we just not matter to you at all?”

Himiko’s heart pounded. She had been avoiding them for so long. She didn’t want to acknowledge how she had yelled at them, and then she didn’t want them to see her falling apart. She didn’t want to talk to them now , either. She didn’t want to talk about Jinah, or think about Jinah. Each and every time she thought about her, it was like something was chipping away at her brain.

After all, anybody could go missing. Even her.

“It's not that,” she said quietly.

“Then what,” Mirai shouted, throwing her hands into the air. “What the hell is your problem!? Why have you been ignoring us?”

“She’s lying,” Koichi muttered angrily. “This bitch just doesn’t give a fuck. That's why she was hiding from us, Mirai.”

Himiko swallowed nervously.

“No, no, I just… I didn’t…”

She trailed off.

“What? You didn’t what ?”

Himiko couldn't answer that.

“I don't know,” she said evasively.

Mirai scoffed and turned away, scowling.

“Of course not. You never tell us shit.”

Himiko couldn't deny that. She didn’t. She only stared down at her food, feeling the pressure in her chest build and build until she felt ready to burst.

Koichi stared at the table, anger written in his posture, his clenched fists, every part of his face.

“Jinah went missing,” He said, even quieter than before. “You know that?”

Himiko took a moment to muster up her answer.

“Yeah,” she half-whispered.

“And you don’t have anything to say about it.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. One she could only confirm or deny. And no matter what she said, she suspected that this conversation would head the same direction.

“No.”

Mirai shot up, pounded her fist on the table, and began to shout.

“Are we even your friends!? Do you care about us? About Jinah?”

The pressure in Himiko's chest transformed into a white-hot anger, and she stood as well, glaring directly at Mirai.

“No,” She shouted, fire spreading through her veins as she began to see red. “You aren’t my friends! You never were! You never will be!”

Mirai and Koichi's faces turned from anger to shock. Himiko didn’t stop.

“You don’t know anything about me, and I don’t want you to! You don’t understand how I feel, you only know the mask I put on for you! So stop acting like we’re friends, because I… I…”

Her voice softened as she trailed off.

“You're never going to get it,” she said quietly as the anger began to drain out of her.

Mirai still looked shocked, but Koichi's shock quickly gave way to a cold, flat sort of anger.

“You know what,” he hissed. “Fine. You can go back to being goody-two shoes Toga. But we’re done. You don’t want us, so this is over. Go back to being perfect. But we don’t want you around. Nobody wants you around.”

Toga gulped, panic suddenly encroaching on her.

“You know what people think of you?” Koichi continued. “Nobody likes you, not really. Nobody wants to be around a rich, entitled freak like you . You’re lucky we were nice to you.”

He began to walk away, and after a pitying look towards Himiko, Mirai followed.

Himiko spoke up, her throat tight with incoming tears, her eyes trained on the floor.

“I-I’m not a freak,” she stammered, desperate to make herself believe it. “I’m n-not. I’m… I’m normal.”

Koichi stopped.

“Don’t lie to yourself.”

He walked away, leaving Himiko in that lonely corner of the lunchroom. Nobody had even turned to look, among the cacophony of voices, of normal people enjoying the company of their friends.

She gathered her bag and began to walk out, trying not to cry. She made it into the hallway, then halfway down it, staring at her feet all the while, desperate not to call attention to herself.

But then it happened; she saw a pair of shoes round the corner, and before she could react, she rammed into the person ahead of her, hard.

She fell to the ground, landing hard on her butt and yelping from the pain. Her books spilled from her bag and scattered everywhere.

“Shit! Watch where you're going,” the boy said.

“I-I’m sorry,” Himiko started, scrambling to pick up her books and stuff them back into her bag. “I-I was just trying to get to the bathroom, because they get so noisy after lunch, and- I’m sorry!”

“Stop apologizing, damn,” he grumbled.

The boy crouched and picked up one of her textbooks, and she saw his face.

It was Saito, right in front of her. So close. Closer than ever before. Himiko's face flushed bright red. He had a fresh bruise on his cheek, and her eyes were drawn to it immediately. Had he been in another fight? He was so close that she could pick out each and every aspect of his scent; he smelled like mens body spray, and beneath that, flowery perfume. She could smell his sweat, his body wash…

His blood.

But for some reason, she didn’t scramble back when she smelt it. She began to salivate, and she swallowed back her spit nervously.

He handed her textbook to her, and she took it from him with shaking hands.

“You good?” he said, sounding concerned. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

Himiko turned her head and hid her face behind her hand, blushing even harder.

“No, no, I’m fine, I’m just… I mean…”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to cuss at you. Here.”

He handed her a few more sheets of dropped paper and stood, a grin on his face.

“Like I said, watch where you’re going,” he said in a teasing tone.

And then he walked away, leaving Himiko staring at the spot he was standing, her mouth agape.

She pulled herself together and stood up just as the bell rang, and she made a beeline for class, her mind racing.

As she took her seat, her mind was an odd mix of panic, fear, depression, and the feeling of being love struck. Over class, all she could do was think.

She felt so confused, so hurt, so scared. Did people really think she was a freak? Did she fail? Fail at being normal? If nobody liked her… if they all thought she was a freak…

Don’t lie to herself.

But what was the point of going over it? She was a freak. She wasn't normal. She would never be normal . Her mask was falling apart, and she couldn’t hold it together… not her entire life.

Koichi had told her to go back to being a goody-two shoes… but that wasn’t who she was. She was tired of lying to herself. So, so tired. So tired of being perfect, of being normal . And now she knew it wasn’t getting her anywhere.

Class let out. Piano lessons. But her mind was still racing.

If it wasn’t getting her anywhere… Why even bother? Couldn't she just… let it all go? Drink something besides her own bitter, nasty blood? She could…

Piano lessons ended. Study time. She opened her books, but didn’t even bother reading anything.

Would he let her? If she asked… he had been so nice to her, earlier. Maybe, just maybe, he would say yes… but no. That was stupid. Who would say yes to that? Saito’s blood smelled so delicious, though…

Dinner. She wasn’t hungry. She stared down at her plate. And then the idea came to her.

What if she just took his blood? She could do it. She could find a knife…

No, that would get confiscated. She had to get something smaller, easier to conceal. Like a pocket knife, or a box cutter. They had box cutters, surely they did. She could ambush him when nobody was looking, and then…

Free time. She sat at the couch, ignoring everything around her.

That wouldn’t work. When would she be able to get him alone?

…No, of course. Graduation was in only two weeks. Everyone would be in the auditorium, and then she could lure him away… but what about afterwards

Bed. She turned off her lights and snuggled under the covers

She stared up at her ceiling and began to giggle.

After all, anybody could go missing. 

Even her.

 

---

 

It slid open easily, and the black mist made no attempt to escape the room. It remained right where it was, floating rigidly, like a wall. He reached out and stuck his hand through. It felt like shoving his hand into ice water; he recoiled from the cold sensation. Looking at his hand, though, it looked fine. Hesitantly, he reached back in. Other than the cold, there was nothing.

Katsuki climbed through the window with no hesitation after that. It wasn’t like somebody could hurt him. He'd just kick their ass. It would be easy, and it wasn't like some creepy mist could hurt him either. Hopefully.

He regretted it immediately. It was pitch black. Being in the mist set his heart into overdrive, made his usually hot blood run ice cold, brought forth awful memories of something pressing against the back of his eyes and forcing its way into his ears. He set off some sparks in his hand to try and ward off the oppressive darkness; it helped, just a little. That awful, unwanted memory of suffocation lessened. He could still breathe. He made out the shape of a light switch on the far wall, and quickly made his way over, nearly tripping over something in the dark. A box, he guessed…

He flipped the light switch, and the strange black mist vanished. The oppressive coldness vanished along with it. He shoved the memories away with them.

He was surprised by what he saw. The room was blinding white. The walls, the carpet, the bedsheets and pillows. Even the bedside drawers. Not a single decoration. It felt like a psych ward. Probably the girls room then, considering she was obviously fuckin crazy. Apparently, the couple she stayed with knew that.

He looked around the room a bit more. There was the blood on the window. A red stain on the carpet beneath, a streak of red on the wall nearby. But why?

He looked at the box that had nearly tripped him up earlier. It was a shoebox, with more blood smeared on it. He walked over and kicked the lid off, scowling. He didn't like mysteries, and this was too much bullshit for him. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

The box had a few items in it; photos, a piece of shrapnel from something or other, and a small notepad. He decided to look at the photos first. The first one showed the girl, Tura (he was almost positive that wasn’t her name, but he still couldn't remember it, and he hadn't come up with a nickname yet), with a big creepy smile on her face, and Kusatta, holding a bunny ears gesture behind her head. The villain looked deadpan, ice cream smeared on his cheek and covered in scratches. The girl's hair was messed up, undone from its usual buns and curling out everywhere. Nothing special.

The next photo was of the girl, looking a bit younger, and several people Katsuki didn't recognize. Two adults, wearing big, fake smiles. Two other kids, younger than Tura, looking excited to have their picture taken. Other than the father, they all had blonde hair, so it was obviously her real family. Looking at the girl, he could see that her eyes were glazed over and dead, her closed-mouthed smile forced and tight at the corners as if she were barely holding back a frown. Her hair was stock straight.

Katsuki put that photo back. It wasn’t that he gave a fuck about her. It was just depressing to look at, was all.

The last photo was of Tura in a clinical white room, wearing clinical white clothes, bandages loosely wrapped around her arms. There were other kids in the room with her, mostly mutants. She was writing something on a sheet of paper, though he couldn't tell what, and she wore one of her creepy, face splitting smiles. It looked dopey, though. She looked drugged out of her mind.

…

He didn't want to look at that one. He put it back.

He picked up the notepad next. Opening it revealed that it was filled with journal entries in tiny cursive handwriting. He decided to read through one at random, since they were all really short.

 

Monday

I don't know why I write in here everyday. Tetsukira says it's good for me. But I still think he's wrong. I guess it's just a habit.

I got a cute pink bento box today! It might be childish, but I want something to decorate when I move in with Samuel and Tetsukira. Samuel says that it's better if I don't decorate my room :(. He says that he doesn't want bad influences. What a meanie! Tetsukira convinced him to get me a bento box though. Samuel gives it a dirty look whenever he sees it. I guess pink is too close to red.

Speaking of! I don't understand why I can't get anything red. Is he scared it'll set me off? It's not like I'm getting better anyway! I'm always so thirsty, and the pills wear off by the end of the day. Tetsukira says it's mental. But it's not going away, and I'm thirsty! My head always hurts, and the pills make me so dopey, and my throat feels awful! I'm so thirsty that it's driving me crazy! And Samuel gets angry if I try to drink from myself.

I’m so thirsty. I don't know what to do. I'm so thirsty and I just want to cut someone up and drink just once, but I can't. It's wrong. It's evil. Why am I so evil? I don't want to be evil. I want to be normal. I want to be good. I don't want to be a demon.

I'm just tired. Maybe I'll get better when I wake up. I have to get better. 

 

What the hell…?

Katsuki shoved the notepad in his pocket. He didn't have the time to think about what he had read. But at least he knew for a fact that this bitch was a different breed of crazy. 

And he was in her room.

He had to make it fast, because the last thing he needed was to get his blood drained. Not that he couldn't beat her. He was obviously stronger. He just wasn't going to fuck around and find out with a verified psycho. And getting caught would get him blacklisted from UA for sure.

But he found himself curious… What else was she hiding in here? If that shoebox was out in the open, what was hidden away entirely…?

He looked at her closet door. If she had more secrets… that would be a good place to start.

 

---

 

The wait was excruciating. Himiko wanted nothing more than to cut Saito up, but she had to wait. Graduation was the least risky time. If she just jumped at the first available opportunity, it wouldn't go well. She would be caught. And if they caught a freak like her, they’d kill her for sure.

She almost changed her mind, once or twice. But she didn’t. She couldn't resist the urge for too much longer. She had already passed her breaking point; if she tried, tried to be normal a second longer, she would go insane completely. She wanted Saito’s blood more than anything. She couldn't deny her love for him. Not anymore.

He was perfect. His hair, his face, his perfect build, his kindness, how he smiled so, so easily. And, especially, how he was always making trouble. His life seemed so thrilling; leaving graffiti on the school building, pulling pranks on the teachers, and all the fighting… he was always fighting. He always had a gorgeous new bruise, a cut, a bloody nose. He was always beat up and reeking of blood. That was what she loved most about him.

Over the next two weeks, Himiko pulled her act back together. She managed to get back into the routine of being neat and orderly. She wanted to look perfect for him when the day came, after all. And she didn’t want to call attention to herself; she would be a pretty, perfect Toga on the surface, and when Saito turned up injured… Well, who would suspect the perfect student?

Each and every day, the suspense grew. It was all she could think about. How his blood would taste. It had been years since she had tasted anything but her own rancid, bitter blood. His would taste incredible. She could hardly wait until it was time…

And then it was. Graduation day arrived at last.

Himiko walked into the auditorium the day of, perfect and poised on the outside, but vibrating with anticipation and anxiety on the inside. She could immediately spot him in the crowd; far. Too far. It would be a task to reach him, much less convince him to sneak out with her…

The principal walked onto the stage and began to speak into the microphone; drivel about the school year, how proud he was of them all. Nothing Himiko cared for. Not anymore. Her eyes were fixed on Saito. She could just barely make out his face. His perfect, beautiful, wonderful face. She was barely able to hold back her excitement.

As the principal continued his spiel, Himiko began to make her way towards him, slipping through the crowd. She acted as if she were dancing, moving through the crowd with a practiced grace, bringing as little attention to herself as possible. Slowly, slowly, she was getting closer.

The principal's speech continued. He spoke of the future of the current generation. The importance of education. She ignored him.

She scooted past the last person between her and Saito. Now was the time.

She spoke, hushed, trying not to draw attention to herself.

“Um… hello,” she said. Suddenly, she was feeling very nervous.

His head snapped to her, his expression surprised.

“Oh, hey. You’re Himiko Toga, right? The goody two shoes? Call me Saito.”

He knew her name. Her cheeks flushed, and she gave him a small smile.

“Oh, I… know your name, already,” she said, looking down at her feet. This was harder than she thought.

“I was… just…”

She steeled her nerves. She could do this.

“This is boring, isn’t it,” she said. “And… Well, it’s the last day, and I figured… wanna ditch this mess? I wanted to tell you something… in private.”

The lightest pink appeared on Saito's cheeks. His blush was unbelievably cute, Himiko thought.

“So that’s what this is about, huh? Well, why the hell not,” he said, averting his gaze to hide his reddening cheeks. Himiko's cheeks grew even hotter.

Saito motioned for her to follow him.

“C'mon. They won’t notice if we take the side exit.”

He began to sneak through the crowd, and Himiko followed. It wasn’t long until they were near the side door. Saito walked through as if he was meant to be leaving, and Himiko followed closely behind.

Once they were out, Saito continued walking.

“This way. I know somewhere we can talk.”

She followed him down two hallways, shaking with anticipation. It was so close. So close. She could practically taste his blood now.

He led her to a janitor's closet and pulled out a hairpin. He snapped it in half, and, with practiced ease, popped the door right open.

A closet. It was perfect. So, so perfect. All alone, here…

They stepped in, and he closed the door behind him.

“So,” he said, leaning against the wall in an attempt to be casual. “You’ve got a crush on me.”

He couldn’t hide his own blush, even in the dark of the closet. Toga’s heart pounded and her face burned hot.

“Yes,” she squeaked out, feeling as if she would drop dead. What would he say? Would he reject her? It would only make sense.

“I’ve heard that a few times,” he said, looking away. Toga could only make a sort of long whimpering sound in response. Of course he had. He was so, so perfect. He deserved it, he deserved to be so loved, how could she possibly be jealous?

“I-I really mean it,” she forced out. “You’re… you’re so perfect. You’re always doing something so exciting, getting into fights, getting all beat up- I… wish I was as brave as you. You’re amazing. I wish I could be you.”

“Yeahhh,” he said awkwardly. “I get it. You’re the smart kid. You don’t do exciting stuff. But… I’m really not interested.”

Himiko’s face fell. Her heart dropped into her stomach. Her blood ran cold.

Not… interested? He said it so easily, too… did he think she was a freak, too? Did he hate her?

“Wha- but… am I not pretty enough? If I’m not pretty enough, I can change! I can be whoever you want me to be, really!”

She gave a nervous smile, hoping against hope that he would change his mind. She could be perfect for him, she could! She knew she could!

But he just shook his head.

“Sorry, but I just don’t get all this romance stuff. ‘S never really made sense to me; It just gives me the heebie jeebies.”

Despair crashed over Himiko like a wave. He didn’t want her. He didn’t even consider it. She looked down at her feet in shame. Of course he didn't. Nobody could love a demon like her. What was she thinking ?

Now there was only one thing to do. What she had brought him here for.

“Th-that's fine,” she choked out. “I-I’m not mad, okay? I… I could never be mad at you…”

He suddenly looked downcast.

“Hey… it’s alright. It’ll work out with somebody, okay?”

She grit her teeth and shut her eyes tight. How could he be so kind? How could she ever not love him?

“Can… Can you do something for me? And then… we can forget this ever happened.”

He tilted his head, just a bit.

“What?”

She took a deep breath and reached into her pocket.

“It’s easier if you just... say yes, okay,” she said nervously. “Please. I just… I just w-want…”

She swallowed.

“I just want a little bit of your blood,” she said quickly, trying to give a comforting smile. “Just a little! It wouldn’t hurt too bad, okay? I just want a little taste!”

She gave a wide, toothy smile, trying to look as nice as possible. He could give a little, right? He had so much blood in him. How bad would a few drops be?

But he backed away, his face horrified.

“My… blood? What the hell…?”

“Just a bit,” Toga said, stepping forward, smiling even wider. “Just a little cut! It’d only hurt a little! I just want to make you bleed, okay?”

He only looked more terrified, though. Why? It was only a cut. Only pretty, delicious blood.

“You’re insane! Get the hell away from me!”

He grabbed the doors handle, but Himiko took a hold of his arm and drew the box cutter she kept in her pocket.

“Yes! Yes, I’m crazy,” she said, a laugh bubbling out of her chest. “But you can make me better! You can fix me! I just need a little, then I can be normal again!”

Saito yanked his hand free of her grasp and yanked the door open.

“Wait!”

Her cry fell on deaf ears. He ran as fast as he could… towards the Auditorium. No, no, he was going to tell everybody! She couldn’t let him do that!

She bolted after him, shouting, doing everything she could to catch up to him.

“Wait! Wait, I’m sorry! Please don’t tell!”

He ignored her, only running faster, turning a corner and moving out of her line of sight. She bolted after him, turning so quickly that she bounced off of a row of lockers in her haste. She flung herself through the hallways, faster and faster, until she was only a little behind him…

And then he stopped on a dime, turned, and rammed his fist into her gut as hard as he could.

All the air burst out of her body. She flopped onto the ground, struggling for breath, trying to force air in her lungs. Her stomach hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. She felt like she was going to puke.

She looked up. Saito was standing over her, breathing heavily.

“Please,” she wheezed. “Please don’t tell. They’ll kill me. I don’t… wanna die…”

“You’re crazy,” he said, glaring down at her.

She felt like she was going to start sobbing at any second. She hated that word. She hated it so, so much.

“I was just… so thirsty…”

She began to catch her breath.

“So… thirsty...”

And then she lunged.

Saito let out a panicked shout, scrambling backwards to avoid her, but she grabbed his leg, dragging him down to the floor with her, and she raised the box cutter.

She brought it down into his side, and he screamed in pain. She ignored him, pushing the blade deeper into his body, and cutting, cutting a deep gash into him.

He gave one last gasp of pain, and then nothing at all; not a single sound, not a twitch.

She dug into her pocket once more, grinning wildly, excitement filling every part of her body. It was time! It was finally, finally time! She’d finally taste his blood, finally show him how much she loved him!

She yanked the straw out of her pocket and jammed it into the wound, giggling wildly. She couldn’t make a mess. That would be gross! Couldn’t waste a single drop, had to get it all!

She practically bit down at the straw in her excitement, and she began to drink.

First, the flavor burst into her mouth. It was so sweet, so tart, so delicious! It coated her tongue as if she was tasting heaven itself. That incredible coppery taste practically attacked her mind with needles, until she could barely think at all.

Then it hit her throat. It washed away that awful, awful burning feeling, until it was finally gone. The pain was finally gone! She had forgotten what it felt like to be pain free; it was incredible, so incredible! The relief was the finishing blow; every thought left her head as she was bombarded with a feeling of absolute ecstasy. Her eyes rolled up into her head in rapture as she drank greedily, and tears of joy wound their way down her cheeks. Finally! She was finally free! Finally complete!

She gulped down greedy mouthfuls of blood, more and more. So kind! Saito, her love, was so kind to give up his blood for her! So brave, to suffer the pain! She loved him! She loved him so much! He was so delicious!

Finally, she couldn’t hold it off for any longer. She forced herself to stop drinking, gulped at the air greedily, and immediately dove back in. She kept drinking, drinking, drinking. Every moment she wasn’t drinking was a waste of time. Her life meant nothing, nothing at all, not until this moment! She finally felt alive! Alive, for the first time in years! For the first time since she found that bird, all those years ago!

And then she heard the screams.

At first, they barely registered to her broken mind. She continued to drink, barely even registering the sound as background noise, until someone grabbed her collar and threw her away from Saito.

She screamed herself, lunged back towards her love, but somebody grabbed her, held her in place. She kicked and fought, squirming and screaming.

“NO! NO, I’M STILL SO THIRSTY! NO!”

Ugly, loud sobbing burst from her, thick, heavy tears bursting from her eyes, mucus pouring from her nose. Why were they stopping her? Didn’t they get it? Didn’t they understand how thirsty she was?

But she could only watch. Students, teachers, visiting parents, all panicking. Someone was on the phone, calling the authorities. Someone else was picking up her love… taking him away.

“SAITO! DON’T GO, PLEASE!”

But he couldn’t hear her.

There was a voice in her ear. One of the teachers. She didn’t process the words, but she knew what they meant. She was a freak. A demon girl. Why? Just for being thirsty? She…

She had to get away. They were gonna kill her, for being a demon. She didn’t want to die.

She screamed and struggled more, harder, kicking and punching and squirming, until…

Barely, just barely, she squirmed out of her captor's grasp. They immediately cried out.

“Catch her!”

She wasted no time. She ran, ran, faster than she ever had.

“How the hell is she so fast?”

“Shut up and grab her!”

She turned the corner and saw her escape route; a large window. They were on the second floor, but she had to try.

She flung herself into the window at full force. It almost seemed to push back against her for a moment, but it shattered all the same. 

She landed in a tree, and went tumbling down its branches. People from above shouted out. She ignored them. She landed hard, but forced herself to her feet and kept running.

It felt like she ran for hours. Finally, she couldn’t run any longer; she flopped down against the wall of an alleyway and gasped for air.

She sat there catching her breath for a few minutes. She couldn’t rest for long. She had to keep moving. She had to find somewhere to hide.

Himiko Toga had to go missing.

 

---

 

The room fell silent as Toga finished her story, smiling widely all the while. Why was she smiling? It didnt make sense. It just didn’t .

“So,” the blonde said, bright and cheery as ever. “That’s what happened with him! He survived, don’t worry!”

Tomura looked down at his hands, thinking. All while she had told the story, Toga had that smile on her face. But he didn’t understand why. Or how .

“What,” she said, sounding concerned, or maybe… scared? “Too scary for you? It’s okay if you think I’m crazy!”

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy,” Tomura said quietly. “At least, not much crazier than I am.”

Toga’s posture changed just a tad after that. But tomura couldn’t tell why. What was she feeling? She looked as happy as ever, but who could be happy after telling a story like that?

“Oh, that's good,” she said. “Anyway, any questions? Comments? Fan theories?”

Tomura stared at her, entirely perplexed.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Tomura rolled his eyes at her cheesy joke, taking a moment to formulate his question. How could he make it sound right? How could he avoid offending her?

Finally, he got it.

“Well… is that a happy memory?”

Toga’s smile somehow became even wider. Her permanent blush deepened, and a dreamy look appeared in her eyes. The same look she had when she had described the taste of Saito's blood…

“No. I can hardly make myself think about it. Only… a part of it is happy.”

Her face told Tomura the rest: “I’ve never felt happier than that moment.”

That moment…

But no. One look at her face, her wide, wide smile, warned him. That half formed idea was not a good one.

He tried something else instead.

“Toga… I’m sorry.”

Her smile twitched, just a little. If he had blinked, Tomura would have missed it.

“I never know what to make of you,” she said quietly. But she quickly pivoted.

“It’s getting late,” she said, bringing back her cheery tone. “How about you walk me home? I’ll text Samuel and Tetsukira. Tetsukira might let you come in for a tiny bit. I have something for you.”

She sounded genuinely excited. And… she had something for him? Why? What?

Tomura could only wonder. Why did she always smile? How did she learn to fight so well? But she had promised him the story of her first crush, and she could barely make herself tell that . Whatever she was hiding…

Well, secrets were usually secrets for a reason.

“That… sounds good.”

 

---

 

Bakugo looked into Tura’s closet. There was another shoebox in there. Not bloodstained. He opened it, and found a collection of ornate knives. Each had a little pink name tag; Maggie, Korra, Coriander, Djinn, Huey. None of them were Japanese names, for some reason. His first assumption was that they were her murder knives, but they were too perfect. Some were even wrapped in bubble wrap. This was a collection.

Still creepy though.

Katsuki kicked aside the box and walked over to her dresser. The way he saw it, crazy people didn't care about anybody else, so why should he give a damn about this bloodsucking freaks shit?

The first drawer was her socks. Nothing unusual there. He flung open the next.  It was filled with seemingly random detritus; hair ties, broken pencils, sewing needles and fabric. His search yielded results; a small stack of papers, hidden away where nobody would look. They were typed in small print, and he saw some extremely technical terms. Science shit, he guessed. He folded them up and shoved them into his pocket. He didn’t have time to read them right now.

The next drawer was dead empty. Weird. It would probably be a underwear drawer for anyone else. Nothing else seemed odd about it, though…

Suddenly, a sound reached his ears: footsteps. Two voices; the familiar raspy tones of Kusatta and the cheery tone of Tura.

Shit. Looking around the room revealed that he hadn't given half a damn thought to how he left it. Well, he had found out enough, and so long as he wasn't caught, how the fuckers room looked was none of his business. He bolted for the window and practically threw himself out of it. The papers he had shoved in his pocket fell out in the process, though. Cursing under his breath, he reached into the room, hearing the voices near the door, and snatched it from the ground.

He shut the window and ducked out of sight just as he heard the door open.

There was an awful, long, tense pause. Then came the shocked scream.

“WHAT THE HELL!?”

Katsuki quickly stifled his heavy breathing and began to sneak away. Sneaking was never his style, but if he got caught trespassing, UA was definitely a no-go. Not to mention the burglary…

As the girl continued to yell, he snuck out of sight of the window and booked it. He ran to the front of his house and entered through the front door, far away from Tura’s window. He made it to his room quickly, not bothering to find out where his parents were or what they were doing. He had different priorities.

Locking his door behind him, he pulled out the folded paper and the small notepad. He found his personal lockbox and opened it. It was mostly empty; a childhood teddy bear that he could totally get rid of, but didn't simply because that would be conceding defeat to the sands of time, a empty broken pencil case that he really should've gotten rid of by now, and a collection of newspaper clippings, each about a certain living corpse.

And now, a journal and some papers. He would read them later. For now, though, they were just dangerous.

Kusatta was too cowardly to come after those newspaper clippings. Katsuki felt like Tura had more spine. Which meant she couldn't find out he had been in her room.

He could beat her in a fight, of course. What he was worried about was her realizing that, and deciding to slit his throat in his sleep instead.

Notes:

This fic is going a bit off script from the original version. This is good, as that was bad. It won't go in a *completely* different direction, but do prepare for some slower pacing.

Chapter 8: Mahogany

Summary:

Toga brings Tomura to her house, but it is not a happy home, in more ways than one. Afterwards, Izuku and Katsuki have a confrontation.

Notes:

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Referenced Break In, Blood (as expected), Physically Violent Bullying, Toga Brings A Fucking Knife To School

Toga and Tomura arrived at her apartment complex right at eight, as sundown gave the clouds a pink hue and cast a golden glow over the buildings. The complex was nice; it looked clean, well kept, much unlike where Tomura lived. Even the streets nearby were clean, and there was a small patch of forestry behind the buildings. Oddly, houses were right nearby; big, just as clean as the apartments.

“I've never seen houses and apartments so near each other before,” Tomura said. It seemed strange, at least to him.

“Some company bought a bunch of old houses, tore them down, and built the apartments,” Toga explained. “Dunno why they didn't tear up the trees though.”

Tomura’s browline raised at that. That was weird. Why not just build more houses, or refurbish the ones that were already there? But he supposed it was just an oddity, if anything.

“Alright,” Toga said, a smile still on her face, but her voice slightly more nervous. “Samuel didn't answer, but Tetsukira says you can come in for a few minutes, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” Tomura said quietly, trying to come across as calm. He didn’t like seeing Toga so nervous. “I won’t overstay my welcome. I need to get home soon, too, so…”

He trailed off, not exactly sure how to finish the sentence. Truthfully, he was a little nervous himself. He didn’t want this to end the same way Toga’s first visit to his apartment had ended. As much as he disliked Kakari at times, she didn’t deserve to get thrown around by two teenagers in one week. He was surprised they hadn’t done any serious damage.

He grit his teeth. The last thing he wanted to think about was that . He still didn’t know how to apologize to her. Or if she even wanted to hear one. Tomura still needed time to think, truthfully. It had hardly even been a few hours since his talk with Toga, after all, but it felt like he should already have all the answers.

He pushed the thoughts into the back of his head, though. Right now, he was focused on Toga.

Toga led him to her apartment; even the door seemed nicer than his. The door of Kakari’s apartment was slightly off-center, with peeling paint. This one looked brand new.

“Before we go in, you should probably take those off,” Himiko said, gesturing to the hands over Tomura’s body. “Stick them in your bag or something. Tetsukira… probably won't be a fan.”

Tomura did just that, neatly placing the hands into his bookbag. It was a good thing he had taken it on a whim, he decided.

Once that was done, Toga reached into her bag and pulled out a key, unlocking the door with the slightest shake to her hands. 

As they stepped inside, Tomura felt like he was being flashbanged; everything was a horrid, clinical white. The walls, the cupboards, even the furniture. From the entrance way, he could see a coffee table, the couch, and a bookshelf in the sitting area, all that horrible bright white. Only the carpet, light brown and immaculately clean, broke up the monotony. What with the bright lights, it all combined to make Tomura’s eyes hurt, leaving him squinting and shielding his eyes with his hand.

“Jesus christ, some fucking color would be nice,” he muttered. It wasn't something he thought he would ever say, but even the slightest accent color would be better than pure bright white.

Toga giggled.

“Oh, you get used to it,” she said, the smallest trace of a laugh in her voice. “It's better this way, really.”

Tomura stared incredulously at her. What did that mean? She said it so genuinely, with her usual face-splitting smile on, but with how much color she squeezed into every available crevice in her life, she couldn't really believe that… right?

But he saw nothing in her face or posture that suggested otherwise. Was she just that good of an actor, or…?

But his train of thought was interrupted as Toga stepped into the house proper, gesturing for Tomura to follow.

“Tetsukira is probably in the kitchen,” she said, still smiling. “I'll introduce you, and then I can show you my room and give you that gift!”

Tomura nodded, but as he began to follow, he suddenly froze as a sudden spike of anxiety stabbed at him.

“Oh, shit,” he said. Toga turned and cocked her head at him.

“What's wrong,” she asked, sounding concerned.

Tomura felt the slightest bit of heat rush to his cheeks, and he pulled at his bangs in an attempt to hide his embarrassment… and face.

“I’m… really, really ugly,” he said, barely above a whisper.

He wasn't usually one to fuss over his appearance. Yeah, he didn't like how he looked, but it certainly wasn't a priority of his. But he had never met one of his friends' parents… or caretakers, he supposed.

Toga hummed, clearly taking that into account.

“I mean, I don't think so, but if it makes you feel better…”

She walked up to him and looked him over. An idea seemed to come to her, and she pulled a hair tie out of her bag.

“Here, we can tie your hair back,” she said, smiling gently. “Make you look a bit more cleaned up, hide some of the damage.”

“But my face-” he started, face growing hotter as he pulled on his bangs harder.

“Oh, please,” she said, a pout on her face. “Can’t do anything about that! Control what you can, accept what you can't, and all that. You’ll look less scary if you dont look like your hiding something, anyway.”

Tomura looked at the bright red of his shoes and tried not to think about all his scars.

“I suppose…”

“Alright,” she said, smiling once more. “Lemme help.”

And she did just that, quickly and neatly tying his hair back into a ponytail and brushing away some of the more obvious flakes of dandruff.

“There, all neat and…!”

She trailed off, looking at his right ear, perplexed.

“I never noticed that your ear was clipped,” she said, eyebrows slightly knit together in an unreadable expression.

Tomura reached up and felt his ear, and there it was; a perfectly triangular chunk out of his ear. That was right. It was the least obvious of his scars, so he rarely ever thought about it.

“Long story,” he said. “I honestly forgot about it, anyways.”

Toga stared for only a few seconds more, before shrugging and turning back towards the kitchen.

“Well, c’mon. Let’s not keep him waiting,” she said. He appreciated her restraint; he knew she had questions. But she obviously understood that it wasn’t the time.

She led Tomura to the kitchen, from where he could hear running water. They stepped into the kitchen, and Tomura spotted him at the sink, washing dishes; the man had choppy silver hair, and he was short and skinny, around Tomura’s chest height. He had downturned, heavy lidded eyes that made him look perpetually sad and tired. He looked around 30, or maybe 35, with the beginnings of smile lines in the corners of his eyes and stubble along his jawline that aged him a few years.

Upon comprehending the fact that this was, in fact, Tetsukira, Tomura took an instinctual step back. It didn't feel right to be so much taller than a man that much older than him. Tetsukira looked incredibly fragile; short and skinny and frail looking. Tomura felt like he could hurt him without even trying, by complete accident. He didn't like that feeling. Not at all.

“You must be Shigaraki,” the man said, smiling gently. He reached out his hand for a handshake, and Tomura reached out a gloved hand and shook the man's hand, gripping tightly. Probably too tightly.

“Y-yeah,” he said quietly. “I guess you're Tetsukira, then…”

“That's right,” the man said, still smiling. Even so, Tomura could see him taking in his appearance; Tomura could feel his eyes carve their way past his ear, down the scars over his eye and lips, over his carved up neck.

Tomura felt the slightest shudder run over his skin. He knew what the look was for, obviously. Anybody would be concerned, seeing somebody so horribly scarred. But something about being stared at like that sent the cold, sickening remains of a foggy memory crawling down his spine.

They look first, and then…

He pushed away that idea and tried to ignore the shivers running across his body.

“Toga’s talked about you alot,” Tetsukira said, still smiling. “I’m glad she's making friends. It's good for her mental well being.”

“Tetsukira, please ,” Toga groaned. “Talk like a person.”

Tetsukira shrugged with a small grin and stepped back over to the sink.

“We work at the rehab center that Toga was released from,” he told Tomura. “We took her in to monitor her mental and physical health. She doesn't like the ‘sciencey’ talk, though.”

Tomura looked over at Toga, who only gave one of her usual grins in response. She seemed unusually alright with this line of conversation.

“Yeah,” Toga said, smiling as usual. “It’s technically, like, work stuff. They’re my caretakers until the people running the rehab center say I’ve recovered.”

This was incredibly odd, Tomura decided. Toga didn’t sound like herself. Even Tetsukira sounded slightly off. They both sounded like they were speaking a script, but Tomura still wasn’t sure whether that was true. And Tomura didn’t know Tetsukira well. Maybe he just spoke like that…

“It’s not work stuff to me,” Tetsukira laughed. “Trust me on that.”

He looked at his watch.

“Samuel should be back from talking with the Bakugou’s soon,” he said. He sounded just as casual as before, but Tomura swore that there was a grim undertone to his words. “You oughta be ready for dinner before then, Toga.”

Toga nodded, unusually serious. Tomura felt like they were speaking in some sort of code he wasn't privy to; why did that come across as a warning ? Was he just looking too deep into things?

“C’mon, Tomura,” Toga said. “You should head home soon! Let me get you that gift, okay?”

She led him out of the kitchen and down the hall. As soon as they were out of earshot, though, Tomura spoke up.

“What the hell was that about?”

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Toga, why are you being so-”

“Tomura.”

He shut up.

The tone of her voice was clear and sharp, immediately shutting down whatever he was going to say next. The way she had used his first name only made her sound more serious. Looking at her, he could see her eyes were just as serious. She wasn’t smiling, either.

“I think I’ve told you enough. Just… stop, okay?”

He could tell she wasn’t happy with him, but she still came across as gentle, her voice lilting in such a way that it seemed casual. She was being more patient with him than she probably should have been, he thought.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he muttered, already trying to push his questions out of his mind. It was none of his business, just like earlier. Why was he always asking? He had his own secrets that he wouldn’t want her asking about, too. It was only fair. Toga was mysterious, even now, but she had her reasons for that.

Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder…

They reached Toga's bedroom door, and her smile returned as she grabbed her doorknob.

“It's not really decorated like yours, but I still wanna show you, since you showed me yours, so…!”

She opened the door, and Tomura’s eyes widened in shock.

Her room was wrecked. Her drawers were open, a box of keepsakes smeared with blood thrown across the floor, her closet wide open with the box containing her knife collection tipped over in front of it. Her window was even cracked open, just a bit. There was a bit of blood on her window, on the carpet beneath, smeared on the wall.

There was an awful, long, tense pause. Then came the shocked scream.

“WHAT THE HELL!?”

Toga ran into the room and looked through the window, but she couldn't seem to see anybody. Tomura heard Tetsukira’s footsteps, and Toga must've as well, as she quickly rushed over to her closet, shoved her knives back into their box, and shoved it behind her clothes just as he appeared in the hallway.

So she's not allowed to have that, then, Tomura thought, somewhere in the back of his mind. But the rest of his mind was simply filled with shock. What the hell had happened? Who had done this?

Tetsukira tore down the hall and looked into Toga's room, just as shocked as her.

“What the…?”

He stepped in, leaving only Tomura in the doorway, frozen in shock.

Toga began digging through her open drawers, and Tomura heard her breathing quicken.

“M-my papers,” she forced out. “All my papers are gone!”

Her… papers? What papers? Who would steal papers ?

Tetsukira quickly fished out his phone, hands shaking.

“I'll call the police,” he said, voice strained. Tomura grit his teeth.

Next, Toga tore through a box of keepsakes, and Tomura swore he could see tears glisten in her eyes.

“No, no no no no! My diary! Fuck! ”

Tomura clenched his fists. Who the hell would do something like this? He hated seeing Toga like this. Whoever had done this…

He grit his teeth harder and muttered a curse. 

Toga punched the ground, hard, still breathing heavily, as Tetsukira spoke on the phone, panic in his tone.

“Who… why ?” Tomura said, his blood boiling. For some reason, he couldn’t help but feel angry on Toga's behalf. It was unfamiliar to him, but that didn’t make it any less potent.

Toga looked over at Tomura, anger and devastation in her eyes. Her eyes softened a bit, and she stood, still breathing shakily.

“Don't worry,” she said. “We’re… they're gonna get what they…I-I’m sorry, I just…”

Tomura nodded and hissed at nothing in particular. He fucking hated whoever had done this, whoever had invaded his friends privacy, made her feel so distressed… this felt awful. He wasn’t the one who had gotten his room broken into, but he was angry anyway, and he didn’t know why . He recognized the emotion, but still… he had never felt this way before, somehow.

“I- when I get my hands on them…” he growled. “What the hell? If I ever-”

Toga shook her head.

“No, no, it's fine. You should go home,” she said shakily, trying to force on a smile, even now. “ It’s getting late. I'll give you your gift tomorrow, okay? I'm sure they didn't take it!”

Tomura looked at her, shocked into stillness. How was she still focused on his gift? How was she still trying to smile? He didn't understand.

“I… but..”

“Fuhai will be worried,” Toga said, her smile nearly failing for a moment. “I’ll be fine, really.”

Was that even the truth, though? Or did it not matter? Would she be fine? Toga seemed to bounce back from anything, but…

Even so, she was right. He did need to leave, no matter how much he wanted to stay, to make sure his friend was alright. 

“I… Okay,” he said, finally giving up. “Update me tomorrow, though.”

“Promise,” she said, her smile still weak.

And so he said a weak goodbye, and, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he left.

---

 When he made it home, Tomura stood in front of the door for a good, long while before opening it.

 It had become a routine. He would steel himself, standing in front of the door, waiting until his stomach stopped churning and his body stopped itching, and then he would enter. If it were up to him, he would sleep outside, but if he waited long enough, Kakari opened up the door herself and demanded he come in. Every single time.

 Because, for god knows what reason, she hadn’t killed him in his sleep yet. In fact, she hardly acknowledged his attack on her at all. He knew she was thinking of it; she flinched when he moved too suddenly, locked her door when she slept, but as upset as she seemed before, she never once took her revenge on him.

 He wanted her to. He wanted her to get angry and cut his throat, or even just yell at him, anything.

 He wanted to pay for what he had done. He had succumbed to his anger, become the person that voice in his head said he was, and he deserved to pay. In blood, in suffering. Anything. He deserved to suffer.

 But she never attacked. Never yelled. He felt like he had beat her into submission, made her too scared to retaliate, and it made him sick. The type of person he became when rage filled his head.

 It was disgusting. He was disgusting.

 Yes. You are.

And today, it was worse, because he couldn't stop thinking about Toga. He couldn't stop thinking about how much distress she had been in. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be there, helping her fix up her room, helping her track down the freak who had broken in. He didn't want to be here , thinking about Kakari. He wasn't ready to think about her. He just wanted to help his friend.

But he couldn’t. He had to come home, eventually. And that time was now.

 He grit his teeth and opened the door.

But Kakari wasn't there. The sitting room was dark, her chair empty. She must have already gone to sleep, waiting for him.

He hated that he felt relieved.

He quickly headed to his room, put his bag down and flopped down on his bed.

It was only later that he realized something strange; Neither Toga or Tetsukira had acknowledged the blood. Not even once.

---

Tomura smacked his umbrella on the floor as if that would make it work, scowling. It was the day after Toga’s room had been broken into; Monday. As much as he wanted it to be over, that meant school, whether he liked it or not.

It was odd. It felt like it had been so long, but no. It had only been one weekend, but with him and Toga trying to bond, the stories they told each other, and the break in… well, it felt like too much had happened in a short time. Or maybe he was just not used to eventful days. Before he met Toga, if he wasn't at school, he was playing video games. Not exactly chaotic or engaging.

After such an eventful weekend, a rainy, almost pitch black Monday morning felt emblematic of the coming week. The fact that his umbrella refused to fully extend only made him more wary. He was sure this was a bad omen. Combined with what had happened yesterday…

Tomura tried to force his umbrella open one last time. The last thing he wanted was to get soaked, but it was looking more and more inevitable. The umbrella was clearly broken, but he didn't want to admit it. He hit the button once more, pushing at the bottom in an attempt to force it open.

Half of the umbrella opened with a sharp snap . The other portion sagged like a dead fish, the inner structures broken in several places. Shit.

He looked behind him, into the sitting area, at Kakari’s empty chair. She would be awake soon enough; she always woke up early, a habit she hadn't yet kicked from her time working in factories. If he wanted to leave before she woke, he’d have to deal with getting wet. He wasn’t yet ready for any sort of confrontation with her.

He sighed and stepped into the rain. He should’ve let Toga buy him a raincoat, but it was too late for that. The best he could do was try to move as quickly as possible.

Luckily, halfway through his walk, the rain lessened a bit. Still, he was quick about getting his way to school. He wanted to talk to Toga and see if she was okay after the break in.

So when stepped into the classroom 30 minutes later, barely dry enough to avoid a visit to an admin, he made a beeline for his seat next to her.

“No umbrella? Sucks to suck, I guess,” she said teasingly, a smile already on her face.

Tomura groaned quietly as he tossed his bag next to his seat, burying his head into his hands. “Stupid thing broke. Don’t talk about it.”

Toga giggled in response, pulling out her school supplies and setting them out on her desk. On school days, she was twice as cleaned up; on the weekends, she could sometimes get away with leaving her hair curly, or having chipped nail polish, or the occasional wrinkle on her clothes. But here? Not once had Tomura seen her without her hair perfectly straight, her nails gleaming white, or her clothes sharply ironed. After seeing her house, cast in clinical white, and talking to Tetsukira, Tomura couldn’t help but feel unnerved by that perfection.

Toga nodded her head towards one of the only other students in the room; Bakugou Katsuki, glaring down at a textbook, having somehow escaped Tomura’s notice.

“Someone’s being oddly quiet,” she whispered. It was true. The usually explosive Bakugou hadn’t so much as growled at either of them. Tomura hadn’t heard that annoying nickname when he walked in, either. The pale haired boy hummed quietly in acknowledgement as he pulled out his own books, thankfully protected from the rain by his waterproof bag. There was an abundance of doodles and little notes in the margins of his textbooks, which looked odd next to Toga’s; as plain as ever.

“Guess he can’t be a dick 24/7,” Tomura muttered. “Let’s not provoke him.”

Toga shrugged.

“I dunno, I kinda want to provoke him,” she said quietly, her permanent blush deepening and her smile growing dreamy. “He’s kinda cute when he yells, right? Like one of those yappy little dogs.”

Tomura could only cringe, glancing over at the blonde once more; still glaring at his textbook.

“Toga, you have no standards, you know that? A crush on him? Of all people?”

She giggled quietly, spinning a pencil between her fingers.

“Having a crush on someone and thinking they’re attractive isn’t the same thing, Shiggy. Just because I’d kiss him doesn’t mean I’d date him. God, no. I couldn’t even imagine.”

Tomura put his head in his hands.

“I’ll never understand you.”

Toga simply shrugged. They sat in silence for a few moments, before Toga spoke up again.

“They didn’t steal your gift, by the way,” she said, above a whisper now. “But the police don’t know who did it, either. Typical.”

Tomura looked back at her quizzically.

“What?” she said. “I knew you would ask. Don’t worry, l’ll give you your gift after school, okay?”

Tomura rolled his eyes, tapping idly at his desk.

“That's not what I’m worried about,” he said. He looked back at Bakugou, for no reason in particular; he was still glaring at his textbook, though oddly, he looked rather stiff.

“What I’m worried about,” he continued, not giving Bakugou much mind. He was clearly focused on something else. “Is what they did steal.”

Toga laughed nervously, looking a tad defensive all of a sudden.

“Oh, uh… it was nothing really, just, uh…”

But before she could finish her sentence, the classroom door opened. It was still before most students would be filing in, if not just a minute or so off. It was really only Bakugou, Toga, Tomura, and a few of the overachievers who came in early, and all were accounted for. Well, them and…

The person who had stepped in- and they could only be described as a person, for they were almost perfectly androgynous- was short, even shorter than Toga, and skinny. Their legs were the most substantial part of their frame, but, even hidden by the pants of the Aldera uniform, Tomura could tell that they were still fairly skinny. They had a shock of white hair, round red eyes, and long lapinid ears on the side of their head, which seemed permanently pointed back with anxiety, drooping over their shoulders.

For a moment, nobody recognized them. Was this another new member of the class? But why would a new student enter so early? Really, only a select few students bothered. And with Midoriya missing from that small group recently…

Tomura slowly began connecting the dots, but Bakugou seemed to piece two and two together before anyone else.

“Deku? What- What the hell, Deku!?”

Toga looked confused for a short moment; within that moment, Katsuki Bakugou had already crossed the classroom to confront the boy. Bakugou grabbed Midoriya by his collar - because, yes, that was Midoriya, despite how different he looked - and practically shook him. The explosive blonde didn’t even seem to notice his audience; several students, staring wide eyed at the two.

Bakugou shook Midoriya one more time.

“Would you look at that,” he snarled, glaring into Midoriya’s eyes. “Looks like the Quirkless nobody has a Quirk after all! Why the hell have you been hiding it from me, you useless Deku? You think you’re worth something? Cause you-!”

One moment, Bakugou was yelling. The next, Toga was there, somehow having left Tomura’s side without him even noticing, shoving Bakugou away.

“Are we really doing this again,” she questioned happily, but with a threat in her tone. “I mean, we can do this again, last time was really fun! But I really don't want to get into-!”

But Bakugou shoved past Toga without a word, making a beeline to a slowly retreating Midoriya. Tomura was the next to stand, moving into Bakugou’s way

“You don’t get to ignore her,” he snarled. “And it’s like I told you before-”

But the blonde shoved him too, much harder than he had shoved Toga, sending Tomura tumbling into a desk and landing hard on his butt.

“Outta my way, Kusatta,” he growled. “This fuckers gotta learn his lesson!”

Bakugou stomped towards Midoriya, backing him into a wall, now practically towering over him. He grabbed Midoriya by his new ears, twisting them, pulling them hard until the smaller boy yelped with pain. And behind them, more and more of their classmates appeared in the doorway.

“You hear me, Deku!? Why the hell have you been hiding this shit from me, huh? You really think you’re so much fuckin better than me?”

Bakugou shook him, hard, as if he were trying to force the answers out of him.

“Answer me! Don’t just stand there, you useless piece of shit!

Tomura began to stand, still aching from the fall, as Midoriya finally spoke up, stuttering and clearly terrified, head forced down by Bakugou’s harsh pull on his ears.

“I- I didn't, I s-swear, really,” he stammered, voice shaking and slightly choked. “The doctor, he said to tell- I mean, he said that- it’s just a late-”

“Shut up!”

Bakugou slammed Midoriya against the wall, hard, forcing a yelp from him. Both Toga and Tomura stepped forwards.

“Leave him alone, you bully!” Toga yelled, trying to pull the blonde away. But he just changed his grip on Midoriya, holding him by his throat now, and hit her with a vicious back hand to the jaw. She tumbled into the desks, and gasped in pain as he head stuck one with a solid thud sound. Tomura rushed to her side, but she was already standing back up.

“You really think I’ll believe that shit!?” Bakugou roared, as if he hadn't been interrupted at all. He squeezed Midoriya's neck harder, leaving the smaller boy gasping for air. “Fuck that shit! You're just trying to make me look bad, you useless Deku!”

Midoriya clenched his eyes shut and stopped his already feeble attempts to fight back.

“You- you’re right, Bakugou,” he wheezed, barely getting his words out. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry! P-please d-don’t hurt me! I’ll- I’ll do anything! I’ll m-make it up to you, p-promise!”

Bakugou's expression turned from rage to confusion, then into outright disgust. With one last hard slam into the wall, he let Midoriya go, leaving the lapin boy gasping for air on the ground.

“You’re even more pathetic than I thought,” he snarled. “Always knew you were a useless fuckin Deku. Begging like a bitch. Stay out of my damn way!”

Bakugou stomped past Tomura and Toga as he headed back to his seat, now on their feet. He leveled a glare at them, too.

“That goes for you, too, Kusatta,” he spat, scowling at Tomura in particular. “Don’t get in my damn way again.”

Tomura glared back at him as he walked past, a scathing insult on his tongue, blood boiling and fists clenched, but Toga put a hand on his shoulder.

“Not now,” she hissed, her catlike eyes trained on Bakugou as if he were prey, her mouth set somewhere between a pout and a scowl. “He’s not worth risking UA over.”

As much as Tomura wanted to throw a punch at Bakugou at the moment, he found it hard to disagree. He didn’t like it, but he had made a promise to Toga. One he intended to keep. So he forced his rage down, for now. He hated Bakugou, but Toga was far more important to him than that dickhead.

Toga stepped towards Midoriya, crouching down to make sure he was alright, and Tomura followed closely behind her.

“You okay?” she said, helping a still-shaking Midoriya to his feet. For some reason, he seemed even more twitchy and nervous than before. He wasn’t exactly great at standing up for himself, Tomura had seen that time and time again, but outright begging seemed out of character. Drastically so, even. Was something going on with him?

Or it was just nothing. It seemed like, as little sense as it made when Tomura thought about it (you didn’t just manifest a mutation quirk, after all), Midoriya’s quirk had just developed. Your quirk could affect your personality; Toga was living proof of that. It would make sense that a quirk based around a prey animal would make you twitchier.

“I-I’m fine,” the lapin boy said shakily. “Sorry you guys had to help me. I… should’ve just stayed out of his way. Sorry.”

“You weren’t in his way, though,” Tomura said flatly, though he was barely holding back a scowl. “He approached you .”

Midoriya only swallowed nervously.

“Don’t worry about it,” Toga said brightly, as if nothing had even happened. “Just try to ignore him. Besides, he didn’t really hurt us, right, Shiggy?”

Tomura took a moment to assess how he felt, then shrugged.

“Just a little sore,” he rasped. “Teacher should be here soon.”

“Oh,” Midoriya muttered. “R-right. Thanks again.”

He collected his books, which had fallen onto the floor, and made his way towards his seat. Toga and Tomura quickly did the same, ignoring the muttering of their classmates as they sat. Tomura couldn’t help but be pissed. Bakugou’s fragile, pathetic ego was getting on his nerves. The idiot taking his insecurities out on Midoriya was awful to witness.

Soon enough, the teacher arrived, none the wiser to the conflict that had just occurred in the classroom, and the school day officially began. However, Tomura couldn’t focus. Everything that was on his mind was piling up… for one, Toga. He wasn’t convinced she was okay. Her room had been broken into. But she refused to show any deeper emotions to him. He supposed… she didn’t feel safe.

Thinking of that… he supposed it made sense. Tomura was so used to being attacked, judged, but Toga had it so much worse. She had been repressed, bullied by her own family, for years and years, until all that pressure simply… broke her. Just being bullied by his classmates… it wasn’t the same.

Tomura… don’t be dense. That’s not all you’ve suffered, is it...?

He supposed that trust would be hard for her. He couldn’t blame her. But all her secrets, her refusal to tell him anything … it made him feel… bad. He didn’t know the words for it. Just… bad.

And the other thing on his mind was Midoriya. Tomura wasn’t even the slightest bit close to Midoriya. They were acquaintances, at best. But he walked into class, after being gone for so long, with a brand new quirk. Tomura looked over at him; he was significantly shorter than before, with those rabbit ears stiffly drawn back over his shoulders in a stress display. His white hair and red eyes. That was clearly a mutant quirk, but those didn’t just manifest… but what else could be the cause?

Tomura knew that there wasn’t a “cause”. It was probably just a weird bit of Quirk science. But for some reason, he couldn’t get the idea of this being unnatural out of his head… 

The day continued to drag on. Toga tried to hold a conversation with him, but gave up eventually; his heart just wasn’t in it. Toga… Midoriya… Kakari. Even Bakugou. Everything was racing through his head at lightning speed, and Toga seemed to understand that he wasn’t in the mood for talking. Lunch came and went, completely uneventfully. Only when school ended did the tedium end.

As they stepped out of the school, Toga's excitement grew. As soon as they stepped off of school property, she began to speak excitedly.

“Alright, Shiggy, are you ready for your gift?”

Tomura blinked in surprise. He had nearly forgotten about the gift Toga had been so excited to give him. He looked over at her; she already had her hand in her bag, searching for something with a big, face-splitting smile. 

“I- sure. What even is it, anyway?”

Toga's smile grew even wider, somehow, and she pulled out a relatively small box; about 8 or so inches in length. It was wrapped in a simple, pastel pink wrapping paper. Tomura couldn’t help but feel a bit touched by the gesture; not only had she gotten him a gift, she had remembered a color he mentioned enjoying. She handed him the box.

“Open it and see! I looked everywhere for the perfect one. You’ll… well, I put a lot of thought into it.”

Tomura took the box and shook it lightly. It didn’t exactly make a sound. He unwrapped it carefully, revealing a wooden box. Was that…

“Is this mahogany ?” He asked incredulously, holding it up. “How much did this cost?”

She giggled. “Don’t worry. I didn’t spend a cent on it,” she said mischievously. Tomura tried not to think about how she got the money. She motioned at him to open it, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet with excitement.

Tomura opened the box, revealing a thickly wrapped object, nestled in a black velvet cushion. He pulled it out, and unwrapped it.

In his hand was a knife.The blade was about 6 inches, razor sharp, slightly curved. Single edged, and serrated near the base of the blade. It was a shimmering silver, the handle pitch black leather. It was beautiful, in a way…

Toga bounced and smiled even wider.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she? I found her just for you!”

Tomura stared at the blade blankly, opening his mouth to speak after a moment… before Toga spoke over him.

“Here,” she said, shoving another box at him. “Take good care of her, this has polish and all sorts of things for maintenance!"

“Toga-”

“I mean, I know that maybe knives aren’t all up your alley, but it meant a lot to me…”

“Toga-”

“If you don’t want it, it's fine! I understand-”

“Toga! Did you bring this to school ?”

Toga froze, still smiling, her arms mid movement. Her smile turned sly.

“Mayyybe,” she said, putting her hands innocently behind her back and rocking on her heels. “I always have at least one on me.”

Her smile and faux-innocent demeanor suddenly vanished. Her lips formed into a pout.

“I don’t… feel safe without one. Don’t tell anyone, okay,” she whispered, putting a finger to her lips.

“I…” Tomura sighed. He knew it was wrong, but he didn’t want to fight her over it. “Fine. I won’t press it. I… appreciate the gift. But… why this?”

Toga's smile returned, and she gave another wide, face splitting grin.

“Well, if we’re gonna get into UA, we need to train,” she said cheerfully. “We can go to the beach! You know, the one that's really dirty, with all the trash? Nobody goes there! I wanted to show you some fighting skills, and maybe help you get accustomed to handling a knife. That might help us take on whatever they throw at us during the entrance exams!”

Tomura’s eyes widened. It was a smart idea, it really was. He hadn’t really thought of what the entrance exams would entail, but it made sense that they would have to train. He had promised Toga that they would attend UA together. And if he could become a hero to help change the system All Might had headed… then this was a starting point.

“I’m in. When can we start?”

Toga smiled. “Right now. I asked Samuel and Tetsukira if I could train for UA. There was a big argument, but it’s good now. Let’s take an hour, to get started.”

“Now, now?” Tomura shook his head, rolling his eyes at himself. Of course she had already set it up. “Yeah, I don’t know why I’m surprised. Let’s go.”

She giggled, and without waiting a second longer, grabbed him by the wrist. She pulled him behind her, her excitement electric, nearly infectious. 

Tomura nearly found himself smiling along with her.

Notes:

Another rewrite original! This one was a pain to write and I don't really like it that much, but it does show us Bakugous reaction to Izuku having a new quirk, it shows us how Toga and Tomura start their training, and it introduces us to Tetsukira! Honestly, a lot of these rewrite original chapters are just chapters that didnt exist in the original for one reason or another.

Notes:

*sips tea in a messy and deplorable manner*

So uh.

If you are here

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Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of No Matter The Cost and Related Works