My oh my! It's been like for-fucking-ever! Apologies apologies, thoughts and prayers, blah blah blah. Author's note and shout-outs at the bottom for anyone interested. On to the chapter:
X. Game Over
"That was way too close for comfort," Midoriya said as the trio made their way to the edge of the shallows. His gaze was low, and he rubbed at his hand gingerly. "You'd have thought there'd have been a second contingent lying in wait further back or underwater. Guess they were underestimating us, that or they're spreading themselves too thin. Still, that was an insane gamble back there. From now on, we're going to have to be a bit more discreet abo—"
"Please stop muttering," Tsuyu said, towing a limp Mineta by the sopping tip of his cape. "It's creepy."
"O-oh?" The taller boy said with a jump, rippling the waters.
Overhead, the low beat of waves blended with the distant churn of the waterslide, punctuated by the occasional cuss from the gluey mass of villains bobbing at the pool's center.
Mineta snickered, getting to his feet with a splash. The water was up to his chest.
"They aren't getting out of that any time soon," he said. "I took the smoothest dump this morning. Those balls will stick all day."
She shivered. "Had to share that, didn't you?"
He shrugged. "Just saying. What's a dude without pride in his balls, am I right?"
"I really don't care. Keep that nastiness to yourself," she said, looking toward the pool's perimeter. "Just saying."
"Pft," the little one rolled his eyes. "You guys were both amazing back there, heh. Amazing my ass."
"I always say what's on my mind," she said, wading past him. "You were both amazing back there. In the present, however..." She shook her head. "Anyway, we should probably decide what to do next."
"You're right," Midoriya said, looking up from his hand.
They had reached the pool's lip, water giving way to a ledge of sandstone tile which spanned the zone's perimeter. Beyond lay the central plaza, the grand staircase, and the entrance landing. From the dome above, the sun peeked out from behind a shroud of clouds, brightening the grounds.
"I think Thirteen had the right idea," Midoriya said. "Calling for help should be our top priority." He pointed at the tiles. "If everything goes our way, we can just follow the shallows to the waterslide and avoid the plaza altogether."
The plaza. She tapped her lip, turning toward the fountain area. "Sensei's still there."
The boy paused, eyes donning a squint as they followed her gaze. Far off, a figure darted about. A mob of villains scattered around him, kept at bay only by smart positioning and the whirl of its scarf.
"I'd bet he dove in specifically draw the bulk of them away from us," Midoriya said. "Obviously a ploy to keep the main contingent under control, but everything I've read about his fighting style centers around surprise attacks on isolated opponents." A grimace crept across the boy's features. "But that's a large group he's up against, out in the open no less."
The figure continued its waltz around the plaza's perimeter, stringing the pursuing crowd out behind it. It flitted about— to the staircase, looping back toward the center, and finally disappearing behind the fountain. Sensei.
"Aaannd that's our cue, kiddos," Mineta said with a shaky laugh. "Get out while we can. Sensei's goal—"
"His goal was to buy us time," she said. "He's holding steady, too. It's just, well," she looked down, pressing her oversized fingers together, "there are so many..."
Several disjointed shrieks echoed across the dome.
"Yeah, many indeed," the steel in Izuku's voice brought her stare upward. His gaze flickered a bit when their eyes met, but there was no mistaking its resolve. "Too many."
She blinked.
"Whoooa there, guys," Mineta held up his hands, sloshing between the two. "Not sure if it slipped your minds or something, but the train to stupid town was back there," he pointed to the empty stretch of waters where the yacht once moored. "No really. You guys can't seriously—fuck," the corners of his mouth sagged. "You're all serious, aren't you?"
"He's our teacher," Midoriya said.
"Yes. Our teacher. A fucking pro. Dealing with this sort of riff-raff is his job!"
"It'll be our job soon enough," she said.
"No shit!" Mineta clutched his head with a squeak. "Soon enough, but not now! You said it yourself. He dove in specifically so we could get out!"
"E-easy, they'll hear us!" Midoriya hushed with whirling hands. "I'm not suggesting we charge into the fray or anything. That'd be really stupid! Just a quick analysis, look around for any openings that might— agh!"
One of his hands brushed up against the tiles with a knock, prompting a cringe to rattle his frame. He clutched the trembling extremity, face scrunching into a wrinkled mess. Tsuyu waded closer.
"You okay?"
"F-Fine," he managed, "just fine."
"You're clearly not," she said, laying a hand on the affected arm. "This was the hand you used back on the boat, right? You said something like this might happen. How your quirk—"
"I'm fine."
His fingers clasped her forearm. The fire was back in his eyes, that same resolve she had yet to understand. One blink and his look softened. "Please."
All Might's eyes were back on Midoriya, burning hot and blue in the growing darkness. "You would do well to guard this secret more ardently. If word got out..." He rubbed at his left side before coughing a dry laugh.
Her grip loosened.
Let's just say the world isn't ready for that kind of information...
Her arm fell to her side with a small croak. So many questions, so little time...
"Agh!" Midoriya let go of her with a jerk. "S-Sorry. Shouldn't have grabbed you. I-It's just—"
You can skip the spazzing," she said. "I grabbed you first, remember?" She tapped her fingers together. "After what you did your hand, too."
Midoriya loosed a trilling chuckle.
"Part of my quirk," he said, turning away. "I'll manage."
"You better."
Another quick laugh and he resumed his forward march, sloshing along with one hand trailing along the poolside tiles. He motioned with his uninjured arm, and she followed. A splash from behind signaled Mineta bringing up the rear, complete with intermittent grumbles .
"Swear you two are in on a suicide pact or something..."
"We'll be fine," the taller boy said, snorting. "Just like you said, right? Nothing stupid, just a quick check for an opening or two," he paused, glancing at his injured hand and rubbing it. "Anything which might relieve some of sensei's burden."
Stupid
Stupid
Stupid.
Worst idea ever. Worst field trip ever. Worst—she shuddered— worst everything.
The bent remains of Sensei's goggles lay several inches from the pool's lip, their owner a mere stone's throw away. The man was on the ground, face-down, scarf scattered across the tiles in a limp mess. He loosed a wet cough, peppering the stone with red.
"Shit," he said, voice gnarled and barely audible, "could've sworn I erased—"
The black hand palming his head smacked his face back into the ground. Its owner loosed a groan from its beaked jowls. Checkmate. A massive mutant had him pinned, perched atop the broken pro like a vulture on a bone.
With a twitch of its wrist, sensei's face swept across the tiles. Grinding crackles emanated from the floor with each sweep. Tiles crumbled to pebbles, smeared with skin and bone. Even Midoriya cringed.
"You can erase quirks," a spindly villain was standing over the defeated pro, voice lubed with excitement. Dead gray hands clasped to all parts of his body— his arms, his face, his neck. "A cool ability, to be sure— SUPER cool, actually—but in the end it's useless against overwhelming might. In a situation like this" – he nodded to the mutant, prompting it to raise one of sensei's arms with a tightening grip– "you may as well be quirkless."
A wet snap cracked across the plaza and sensei's forearm fell limp, dangling like a broken twig from the beast's fist. A twitch racked the poor man, muffled groan emanating from where his face should have been (or what was left of it, at least).
"Oh f-f-f-fuuuuck," Mineta's squeaked, both hands clasped over his mouth. "This was such a bad idea."
"Gero," she bubbled.
"Master Shigaraki," a deep voice thrummed. Black wisps of mist curled their way into being, forming a cloud before coalescing into a familiar shape. From the haze came the mist villain, his ethereal form now shrouded in a vested oxford complete with tie, chinos, and bronzed cuff links.
Tsuyu's stomach churned. This was the one who scattered them earlier. If he was here, then—
"Ah, Kurogiri. You've returned," the hand villain faced the newcomer with a lazy scratch of his neck. "Thirteen's taken care of, then?"
The mist man bowed. "I dispatched Thirteen with little issue. However, to my shame, one of the class managed to escape during the scuffle."
Escape? She tapped her lip.
"Escape?!" The hand villain shook.
Tsuyu shivered. This was perhaps the best – or worst— news of the day, probably the worst given their luck.
Someone had managed to escape the facility? Good! Help was hopefully on the way. The poor tidings having a visibly souring effect on the boss? Bad! A vengeful killing spree was definitely in the cards now.
"Kurogiri," the villain's voice shook. Fingers clawed at the exposed flesh of his neck with renewed vigor. Eyes– each half-obscured by a spindly grey hand— danced across the ruins of the central plaza. "If you weren't my only ticket out of here, I'd... I'd—" his voice trembled with a cold fury devoid of thought, reason, perhaps even sanity. "I'd tear your flesh away until there was nothing left to dissolve!"
The mutant groaned, adjusting its weight over sensei's other arm. The bones popped like bubble wrap, prompting the man to writhe in silent agony.
"Gero," she withdrew further into the water, as if blowing more bubbles would end the nightmare.
A shudder pulsed down the hand villain's frame, and the scratching stopped. A dry sigh issued from where his mouth should have been, black-sleeved arms dropping to rest at his sides: a welcome change were it not so abrupt.
"It's game over, then," he groaned, turning to face the mist man. "Game over, Kurogiri. There's no way we can win against dozens of pros..." His head drooped forward. "Let's go home."
"Tch!" Mineta hugged her with a splash. "We're saved!"
"Yes, but—" she stopped, heat rushing back to her face as a tiny hand groped her chest. "Uh."
A dead man, the little one was, and no amount of struggling could save him. One shove and his head dunked underwater. A few twitches on his end, but her hand held firm, and the pool frothed pleasantly.
"I have a bad feeling about this, Midoriya," she croaked.
"Yeah," the boy murmured, expression darkening as he rubbed his chin."For them to retreat after going through all this effort is—"
"Oh yeah," the lead villain's ton spiked. "I guess before we leave" – she blinked and he was upon them, hands outstretched, eyes wide and gleeful – "we might as well knock his pride down a few pegs first. That'll get him to show up next time."
Cold fingers closed around her face before she time to react. Too fast—much faster than he looked, and nothing like the thugs Midoriya swamped from atop the yacht. Her heart leapt into her throat. She remembered sensei's crumbling elbow: whole chunks of flesh flaking off from the point of contact, the exposed sinew crumbling away like chalk in the wind...
Game Over.
The stale aroma of unwashed flesh swamped her nostrils, coupled with a sharp burning as her skin begin to give way. Except—
White.
Everything's white: the walls, the vinyl counter, the halogen lights above— everything. So sterile, so unnatural, stifling. Even the air stings; alcohol, vinyl, and with a hint of nitrile. Daddy's hand steadies her shoulder as the man knocks at her knee with a mallet. His coat's white too, though his face is not: tan and lined like jerky.
"Reflex arc intact, significant hypertrophy across all superficial muscle superior to the ankle," he mutters, tapping his stylus to the tablet. "Got yourself a jumper, it seems."
She looks down as Daddy snorts. He's rubbing his eyes, yawning.
"I noticed."
Jumper. Her hands press against her knees. It all started last night: a cramp in her leg, a twitch, and next thing she knew she was not in her bed but on the ceiling. Took all night for Daddy to get her down. She shudders. Why did it have to be so high?
She looks up. The old man's looking over the tablet while daddy waits, eyes wrinkled with interest. She squirms against her seat, wrinkling the bench paper. If pauses could kill...
A wall clock ticks onward, and she taps her finger against her knees in tune to its drone.
"Hm," the old man skims the screen one last time before setting it down with a dry sigh. "Legs, skin, fingertips, heartbeat... I think that's all. I'll leave referrals to cardiology, dermatology, and radiography with the receptionist, but nothing rouses my immediate concern. Quirk appears to be devoid of complications."
"See? Told you you'd be okay. Just another bit of your quirk coming in," Daddy pats her shoulder. Funny, she doesn't feel okay. "You did great."
Did she really?
"That she did," the old man echoes. "All these quirks flying around nowadays. Ninety percent for children under six, was it?"
Daddy shrugs. "Something like that. Eighty percent of the entire population in a decade or so if the projection holds. Did I tell you I intern here? Pathology. Kinsei's lab. You?"
The doctor doesn't answer, gaze locked on his tablet, tapping on. Daddy shifts in his seat.
"Great things, these kids are gonna do," the older man mutters, tone so soft she has to strain to hear. "Great things."
Daddy sighs, shaking his head. "You're telling me..."
She blinked.
"Damn it," the villain's voice crept across her consciousness in slow motion. Cold fingers twitched against her skin, yet no sting came...
She's drumming her finger against the countertop. It clings to the surface with each tap as if coated in honey. Granite. The kind daddy said would look perfect with walls of their kitchen. It doesn't, and she doubts she'll ever get used to it either. Her free hand pinches a card of laminate plastic, thumbing it up and down:
Asui, Tsuyu- MRN# 0124-08-1293 DOB: 2/10/2102
Type: Mutant
LabScan ID: x09Zs4001
Specifications: ophoid tricuspid atresia (benign); topical sensitivity- DMSO, sodium lauryl sulfate, hydrogen peroxide
Known Allergies: N/A
Mutant. Her gaze lingers on that word.
"Don't leave it at home again. You need it on you at all times," Mommy says. Her back's turned, slicing beef by the stove. "Just like daddy said, remember? Doctors need to know how to fix you if you get hurt."
As if she wasn't already.
She presses the card against the table. Atop the stove, the sauce hits a boil, pot purring in kind. She inhales and grimaces. Sukiyaki. She loves sukiyaki, and mommy knows it. This isn't the first time this has happened, and she grinds her teeth at the thought. Happens too often. Too soon. If everything goes as planned, Mommy will break out the jelly for dessert just like she always does. Osaka, Toyko, Brussels, New York... does it even matter anymore?
Mommy sets the knife down with a clack. "How's school?"
School. Her body tenses at the word.
She presses her head flat against the table, folding her arms around her face and hiding behind her hair. The cafeteria, the laughs, the tears.
"It's ok."
"Hmm," mommy hums, the shuffle of her slippers against the wood paneling signaling her approach. "Just ok?"
She feels mommy's hand fold around her shoulder and stiffens.
"Daddy told me about what happened."
She squirms, twisting her head away.
The adjacent chair creaks. "Honey."
"Hate it..."
"Honey, look at me."
"I hate it," she says, loudly this time. "I hate my quirk."
The words feel good. Mommy's hands pry at her arms with renewed forcefulness. Why doesn't she get it?
"Tsuyu."
She squirms, jerking at the elbow, but Mommy's grip holds fast.
"Tsuyu, look at me."
She looks away, rubbing her face with her forearm. "Why does it have to hurt so much?"
"Because you're trying to cover up something which shouldn't be hidden," Mommy says. "If something's on your mind, you're better off just saying it. Saves us all a wealth of hurt."
Her hands pull her close: large, warm, stupid.
"Why do I have to be so different?"
"We're all different," mommy says. "The world wouldn't work right if we weren't."
"Not like that," she says, jerking away. "Sakiri says—"
"Is that a scrape on your elbow?"
"No! Sakiri says—"
"Never mind what Sakiri says. Now let's get a bandage on that and—"
"Look at me!" Mommy's arms leave her with a snap of her new legs, and she's on the ceiling with a thump. The hanging lamps rattle, the plaster flakes, and the card falls, clattering against the floor tiles as her hands cling to the new surface.
Mommy exhales and rises to her feet.
"I am, Tsuyu."
She's standing beneath her. Her hands are splayed, ready for any fall. Her face is expressionless, mouth wide and crooked as always. Just like...
Her hands press tight against the ceiling as she looks away.
"Tsuyu, you know it's not safe to hang upside-down," mommy says. The pot's purr escalates to a hiss. "Please..."
Hands tense, then relax slowly. Eyes closed, she falls, and mommy catches. Her vision blurs as she meets mommy's gaze.
"My class," she looks away, "they all hate me."
Mommy croaks a low thrum and pulls her close. Her mouth is sealed and flat, eyes up and distant. Back and forth she sways, rocking her. Slowly. Gently.
"Hate's a strong word," she finally says. "That's..." her voice trails off beneath the distant whine of a street-side siren, "we can talk about it later."
"It's always later for you," she says, burrowing her face further into mommy's sweater. The air smells of mirin, crisp garlic, and burnt soy. The pot's whine peaks, deepens, and finally peters. "You're leaving again, aren't you?"
She feels a hand cup her cheek, guiding her face upward. It's warm and soft, slightly sticky at the fingertips. Just like hers. Slowly, mommy's thumb sweeps away the moisture with practiced precision: two sweeps over the top lid chased by a smooth arc across the bottom. Only when all is dry does she speak:
"Close your eyes, little one," she says, "I want to show you something."
She does.
Mommy croaks, and she feels familiar warmth enclose her fingers, spreading as if drunk on hot tea. It builds, coalescing around her pinky. The trill and fade of another heart.
"What do you feel?"
"You're pinky-promising." Her lids wrinkle with thought. "I feel your heart."
Mommy croaks a laugh. "Very good. Now, what you feel if daddy did this?"
She squirms, croaking in kind. "His hands would be bigger! Colder too."
"But you'd feel his heart, right?"
" I... think so?" Her mouth puckers. "He's got a heart, too, right?"
Another laugh.
"I'd certainly hope so," she says. "Now"— she cups both of Tsuyu's cheeks and taps her forehead to hers. Her breath is cool and smells of jasmine. Calming– "if you were to do the same with any of your classmates, what would change?"
The croak dies in her throat, caught in a mess of tongue she's suddenly aware of— that thing they called worm. She looks down at her hand. Fingers curl into her palm, the stickiness as jarring as it is alien.
"Everything."
"Everything?" mommy says with a croak. "They've all got hearts, don't they?"
"Nuh-uh," she's shaking her head. "They're like the bad guys on TV." She punches the air to demonstrate. "Heartless."
"Heartless?" Mommy's laughing again. "I don't think that's what that word means."
"You'd be surprised."
"Everyone's got a heart, Tsu."
"I don't think so."
"Then take mommy's word for it, then"— she feels mommy's hands on hers, pressing the card back into her hands— "everyone's got a heart. Sometimes they just don't act like it. They forget. Kids your age, well, they can be like that as quirks pop up."
She recoils.
"B-but that's not fair," she protests."I didn't forget!"
"That's why it's your job to remind them."
She looks down at her hands splayed across her lap and the card nestled in their grip. Her fingers curl inward slowly around the plastic. Mutant...
"Remind them?"
"Tsuyu," mommy's hands cup hers, pulling the card from her fingers and placing it atop the counter. Uninhibited, her grip returns to her daughter's, guiding her hands upward once again, toward the pulse in her chest. "Your hands will do more things than you can even imagine. Great things. Beyond what even daddy or I can think of."
Great things? She looks away. She'd rather settle for normal, frankly...
"My hands really aren't great."
"Sticking to walls is pretty cool, I think," Mommy says, croaking softly. "And even if you couldn't, that's not the point. It's really not about your hands anyway, but the heart which guides them," – she vaults her daughter's chin to eye level with the curve of her finger –"the mind which informs them."
She blinks and tries to look down, but mommy's not finished. Far from it.
"Promise me when the time comes, you'll use them to see in others what even they can't in themselves?"
Mommy's touch leaves her chin, and she looks down. "That makes no sense, mommy."
"You'd be surprised," mommy says with a croak, rising from her seat. "These sort of things usually don't until they're needed."
A shiver and she was back, but not free. As if she ever was.
The villain's hand was a prison, fingers stiff and grey like jail bars. Through the gaps she saw the red. Everywhere. Burning in his eyes, sheeting down his forehead, pulsing from what little skin remained on his face. One gag and it all quivered, each breath a struggle to maintain eye contact even as the massive black hand clutching his scalp pressed relentlessly downward.
Sensei.
"You really are cool," a cold chuckle pricked her senses, "Eraserhead."
As if on cue, the mutant yanked her savior's head skyward, ready to slam it back into the bloody divot where it belonged. A faint snap and sensei's head plummeted.
She barely had time to squeeze her eyes shut before the monster's shriek echoed across the dome, followed by the sickening crunch of bones on stone.
Game over.
With the turn of the lip and flick of a pigtail, the little girl plops down onto the concrete.
Knees pull into her chest, followed by her hands, and finally her head. Eyes – large, sad, anuran –gaze out across the patchwork of rooftops checkering the cityscape, punctuated by the occasional spout or spire. Cars scuttle about the streets below like beetles, their hums blending with the slow thump of the rooftop turbine behind them. Slowly the sun dips, red with twilight.
"It's nice up here," she finally says.
"Mm," Tsuyu nods, taking a seat next to her. "I found this spot when I was your age. You can see everything from here: the city park, the silver district, even the river Kobi."
"Yes, the water sparkles in light," the little one says. She traces a finger across the blue slivers. "Two branches— one slow and crooked, the other straight and fast. Just like what we learned in..." her hand falls limp. "Forget it."
Tsuyu nods, noting the slight drop in the little one's voice, the taper at the lip. She's more expressive than her or her brother: the most expressive of the bunch, for that matter. Dad's genes hard at work, no doubt.
"I found this place on the way back from there, you know," she says, pushing the aside from her mind. "It's a great hiding spot whenever things get bit much"
"I'm fine." The little one says, gaze fixed on the horizon.
"You know I know that's not true."
The little one stiffens, creating distance with a shuffle.
"I want to help," she says, hopefulness masked by monotone. Fingers tighten against her knees, giving way to twiddling as the silence lengthens. "Satsuki, please."
The distant blare of a siren is all she gets. She answers with one sigh, slow and measured.
"I never showed Samidare this place, you know."
Like a switch, Satsuki's head flips up, eyes wide and trained on her. "You didn't? Really?"
"I couldn't even if I wanted to," she says. She raises a hand and points to her fingertips. "Can't climb walls like us, remember?"
"Yeah," Satsuki says with a croak, looking at her hands. "Wait, this isn't allowed, is it, sis? The quirk laws. Daddy says—"
"That's why it's our little secret."
"Our..? Sis, the police."
"The police has its hands full dealing with villains. They aren't going to arrest two kids trying to watch a sunset, and even if they do, there's no way to prove we climbed up here. High schoolers do it all the time," she says, leaning back and straightening her legs. The concrete is warm against the cool of her skin. "We can leave via the staircase if you're uncomfortable."
"No!" Satsuki squeaks, tapping her fingers together. "Uh—I mean, it's fine. We can stay a little longer. But only if you want to!"
"I brought you here, remember?" she says, lying on her back. "We can stay as long as you'd like."
"Dinner," the little one says, lying down in kind. "Daddy's at the hospital, and mommy—"
"I made an extra batch of noodles and dashi yesterday, and Dad left some chicken for us to warm up," says, closing her eyes. "Samidare's got basketball till six. We've got time."
The low growl of a passing jet fuzzes over the pulse of the city, once again giving way to the rhythmic thrum of turbine's turn –relaxing, hypnotic even. Like ocean waves.
"Hey, Tsu?"
"Mm?"
"We're friends, right?"
"You're my sister, Satsuki."
"I know, I know. It's just... well, you know."
She sits up to find her sister cross-legged, tapping her fingers together. Another sigh. "Satsuki, why do you think I brought you up here?"
"Because I can stick to walls!" the little one cheeps, raising her hands. "That's why you never brought Samidare."
"Well yes," she says, tapping her lip. "That's part of it."
"I can do something he can't!"
"Well yes, but that's really not all that nice," she begins, but Satsuki's already singing:
"He can't climb up waaaalls. He can't climb up waaaalls..."
"Sis," she cups her sister's shoulders. "Samidare was not the only mutant type in his class when quirks came in."
The screech of tires rings out from the traffic below. Satsuki looks away.
"I got Mirai-sensei's email," she continues. A jerk shakes her grip. "I'm only trying to help."
"That all you ever want to do, sis," the little one says, pulling her arm away as she herself did so many years ago. "Help this, help that. Just like you did with that boy down by the river. Sometimes it's just so..." she balls her shaking hands into fists and wrinkles her mouth. "It's just so... ugh!"
"You don't mean that," she says. "He would have drowned."
"I'm not drowning, Tsu."
"I'm not so sure," she says, pulling her sister close despite the latter's best efforts. "You're definitely hurting. I can see it."
"Let go," the little one says with a jerk of her elbow, head buried in between her knees. "You don't understand."
"Maybe not," she says, eyes on her hand. She feels her fingertips, how they cling to the fabric of her sister's shirt. Her gaze drops and is lost in the concrete. "Still, I'd bet I understand more than you think."
The turbine thrums onward. The sun's flushed now, dipping below the rooftops. Shadows lengthen.
"Sometimes you can't help but feel out of place, Satsuki," she finally says once the pause gets too awkward. "That's why I come here."
The little one cocks her head. "So you can feel even more alone? Seems kinda weird."
She shrugs.
"I never thought of it that way, but it's definitely not weird." One finger flicks toward the horizon. "When I look out across the rooftops, I see the just how large this world is, and remember that being small sometimes isn't so bad. In a place this big, there's got to be a place of all of us."
A cool breeze curls its way over the city, tousling their hair, ruffling their clothing.
"A place for all of us," Satsuki echoes as it passes, rolling onto her back. She raises her hand and splays it, tracing lines of shadow across her face. "What's your place, sis?"
Her place...
"I..." she begins, "I don't know yet, only that it's out there, and search just might be more fun than the find," she lies back, eyes on the darkening sky, "that's what makes all this worthwhile. What makes it all worth fighting for."
Satsuki sits up, eyes gleaming in the light of the fading sun. "Doesn't sound too bad."
"No,"—she would have smiled were she able—"not at all." She sits up, facing the little one once more. "Promise me you'll speak up if something weighs on your mind from now on? It's not healthy to keep stuff like that to yourself."
Satsuki drums her lip, a slight swish to her chin as her eyes fold to thoughtful slits.
"I'll try," she finally says as her face relaxes. "Just like you, sis!"
"Good girl."
She lies back, hands clasped behind her head, and looses a contented croak. Eyes close once more. It's been a long couple of months, lengthened by hour upon hour of proxy parenting. Still, to think she'd never get the hang of it...
"Hey sis?"
"Hm?"
"We're friends, right?"
The sun dips below the skyline, and the red sky slowly asphyxiates to purple. Shadows expand, touch, and bleed into each other.
"I know I asked earlier, but you answer was confusing and I, well—"she cants her head forward, gaze fixed on restless fingers. "I was just wondering."
More croaks. She's laughing that weird, froggy laugh she usually hates so much. It feels good now, and the little one's words fade with each heave of her chest.
"Satsuki," she says, curling her pinky around her sister's, feeling its pulse. "Close your eyes. I want to show you something..."
She blinked, suddenly aware of the blur in her vision, the moisture dusting her cheeks.
Was it really going to end like this?
"What?"
The snake girl stiffens, forked tongue frozen mid hiss. Her eyes— amber, reptilian, framed by scales—burn.
"What did you just say, frog?"
"Friends," she repeats, finger pressed tight against her lip, tugging on her scarf ever so slightly. "You've been following me around for most of the semester so I, uh, figured—"
"Dumbass!" Habuko interrupts, jaws agape. Interesting. Despite her exterior, she's still got human teeth." I'm a treacherous, wily contrarian! Friends? With me? As if! Go find friends somewhere else, frog. The nerve, calling me a friend. A friend. Friend..."
The flow of words peter to a trickle as tears bud along the scales of the girl's lower lids. Familiar tears. Tears she's long since spent. Her hand leaves her lip, whatever tension it held gone. Poor girl. If only—
"Gero!"
Scales scrape against her neck as arms close around her, warm and undeniably human. She stiffens. The poor girl's crying now.
"Is it okay if I call you Tsuyu?!" she manages between sobs.
A warmth grows in her chest, building with each pat on the snake girl's back. A stray leaf tumbles through the dry autumn air. Her eyes follow, chased by a crisp bout of inhalation, and the stiffness crumbles.
"Sure," she says. "Call me Tsuyu."
Always an awkward girl, that one was...
No. It couldn't end here. Not now. Not—
" LET—"
Beneath death's grip, wet eyes widened. Midoriya?
"—GO OF HEEER!"
An angry bang ripped across the pool, knocking her airborne. Like a passing nightmare, she felt the villain's cold touch leave her, replaced by the blunt throb of her elbows connecting with the poolside tiles. An angry cloud of dust and debris obscured her vision, and she saw no more.
...
Or she would have, except—
"Noumu," the hand man's hiss curled its way through the haze.
With a crack, another blast tore through the air, destroying what balance she had regained. The dome spun, and down she fell. Above, debris gave way to shadow, and she saw it. The mutant reared, looming tall above the dust like a mountain in the wind. It cleared the air with one sweep of its arms, and there he was— shoulders hunched and trembling, barely tall enough to reach the monster's waist.
Midoriya!
She scrabbled to a crouch, eyes wide at the scene curling out from beyond the dusty veil. The boy was tense, legs bent and dripping. His arm was rigid, fist planted smack in the middle of mutant's abdomen, aim true as it was ineffective. From his crouch by the pool, the hand villain shook his head.
"Cute punch," he said, trailing his fingers through the water. "Called that attack a smash, right? You a fan of All Might's or something?"
A snap of the hand chased by a surprised squeak.
The mutant had grabbed the boy's arm with one giant hand, grip tightening even as he squirmed. Hand villain rose to his feet with a sigh. He surveyed the struggling pair for a moment, as if expecting something to happen. The seconds dragged onward, the slow patter of water trickling from the villain's hand keeping time. Drip... drip... drip...
No.
Too long. The villain's stare began wandering, whatever interest his eyes once bore fading with each useless jerk of Midoriya's limbs.
"Eh, whatever kid," he said, shaking the remaining water from his hand. "Good spirit, I'll give you that."
He nodded to the mutant.
No!
Out shot her tongue, curling its way around her friend's waist and pulling taut. She yanked twice but the boy held fast. That blasted monster's grip!
Crap. The mutant wouldn't have any of this. With a groan, it looked up from the boy, catching her in its gaze. Horrifying: its dead eyes, beaked jaws, fold upon glistening fold of exposed brain... she couldn't help but look away. Anything to—
"Forgot about you, didn't I?"
Big mistake. One turn of the head was all the lead villain needed to get a good grip on her face.
"Always forgetting the weak ones, aren't I, father?" he said, fingers outstretched, "my mistake, yeah. Won't do that again..."
A low sigh and his hand snapped forward, enveloping her face. No time to dodge, being tethered to Midoriya and all. Besides, he was too close and she was too slow, too weak. Weak. Those words burned as much as his impending touch. What a waste. Ensnared again, only help would not come this time. Luck had finally run dry, it seemed.
Game over.
BANG!
The ground shook from yet another gunshot crackle. Midoriya again? The thought brushed at her mind even as the villain's fingers curled inward with a twitch— mere millimeters from her skin. His head turned, chin cocked up toward the entrance landing. With a hesitant blink, her gaze followed.
Couldn't be Midoriya. Too distant, and in the completely wrong direction to boot . Hand man would be looking the other way if it were anyway. But if not him, then who? Nobody in the class had attacks which made such sounds. Almost no one in the school either, for that matter. No one bar—
Her tongue snapped back into her mouth.
The column of smoke had parted. The entryway doors were open, hanging off-kilter on ruined hinges. Light poured in from outside, illuminating the threshold and framing a hulking figure at its center.
It was him.
She could barely see from that distance, but she could feel it: the crackle of air with each mighty stride, the splintering of stone with each foot strike. A blur, he cleared the landing and blitzed down the stairs before she could do so much as blink.
He had come.
Though her eyes struggled to follow, they were nonetheless awed: batch upon batch of villains slugged airborne and unconscious by a hurricane of blows, the mere wind kicked up from their wake more than sufficient to dispatch any thug foolish enough block his path. A puff of air and the black beast staggered backward. Black arms were emptied, Midoriya and sensei nowhere to be seen.
"Aizawa, my friend. Forgive me," his voice rumbled across the dome, devoid of its usual magnanimity. A storm was brewing, his words but opening thunderclaps for what was to come.
He had come.
Another crack, a sudden push around her midsection, and ptoom! She was in the airborne, the world a blur. Another second and her feet once again hit pavement. She looked around, glancing from the bloodied Aizawa at her feet to a similarly bewildered Midoriya and Mineta by her sides. They were on the other end of the plaza— far from the hand man and his elites, safe at last.
"I knew something was up when I couldn't contact Thirteen from the school," the thunder rumbled again as its owner rose, a mountain in his own right, placing himself between the villains and her companions. "And when I saw young Iida alone by the road, the shiver in his breath, the fear hollowing his cheeks..."
Knuckles creaked and popped as fingers ground to fists. Muscles locked into formation, shirt fabric groaning in kind.
"And then I saw the students and how hard they fought, fighting for their lives long before their time, and against filth who have no business going after children no less," his fists quivered. "Aizawa and Thirteen giving their all, even as you broke them..."
He took a step forward, tiles grinding underfoot. His eyes were hooded, the smile absent from his face. Such creases—once heralds of relief and triumph— instead twisted downward in alien, almost unnatural dimensions— conscripted for a very different purpose. She barely recognized him, and it was probably better that way. Such was the face every villain feared, the mask he wore for the any who dared harm the world he protected. All Might was here, and he had a job to do.
He had come.
"Still, none of that matters anymore," the hero continued. "Everything will be ok"—he tore his necktie from his collar and tossed it onto the bloodstained tiles— "Yes, everything will be fine, for I have come."
A quiver racked hand man's form. Be it from fear or excitement, she couldn't tell. The lines around his eyes deepened, knuckles whitening as his fingers curved into tight hooks.
"Oh? Look who decided to show up right as we were prepping for a soft reset, " his voice ran slick across the pause, "seems we got ourselves a continue, Kurogiri."
To be continued.
A/N: Thanks for reading thus far and repeated apologies on the massive delay. Writing this chapter was quite difficult given how much detail I wanted to give Tsuyu and her backstory. Hopefully the final product did the time justice without being too ham-fisted. Thoughts and feedback are welcome as always. I really do try to engage with the readers, and definitely credit such conversations with improving the overall quality.
Here's to a quicker next chapter!
Peace, Love, Plus Ultra,
-Nucleophile
Final Aside: a couple shout-outs to those reviewers I couldn't reach via PM:
Deer King- Ranidophobia? How curious! Consider me glad that it didn't get in the way of you reading this story. As for the romance part, my lips are sealed ;)
Guesst (lol) - No problem! Source material is always my bible when it comes to writing these kind of stories. Hopefully the quality continues to deliver!