In The Past

He wore masks now.

There wasn't a time he could leave the squalor of his west side apartment without one. They held him together like a dam about to burst, sealing the raging might of rushing water between every crack that splintered the surface.

He did his best to remind himself that he was real. He'd made it out of the quirk-killing battle alive. That meant he was the real Jin, right?

Still, he referred to himself as Twice now.

Jin seemed so far away.

His fingers traced the cheap fabric itching the skin of his scalp beneath the short cropping of his hair. The hardest part was being unable to bite his nails and relieve the restlessness that plagued him day and night. Instead, he tapped his fingers along the brick wall in the dim shadows of an alley, barely hidden beneath the afternoon sun. Licking his lips and ignoring the abrasive mask against the soft skin, he kicked a rock idly toward the opposite building that shielded him.

Toga had welcomed his tail the first time he'd decided to see her for himself. His blonde cohort was twisted, unbothered by his curiosity or whether or not it was aimed toward her.

But it wasn't.

Not anymore.

The first time he'd seen her in the crowd of students released from the unrelenting prison of the school system had been months ago now and though he'd tried to keep his visits sporadic at first, his instincts had won. This week he'd come every day, waiting with doe eyes and twitchy fingers in the distance as Ochaco Uraraka emerged from the middle school.

Pools of moisture filled his vision when she'd laugh along with the blonde girl who never left her side. She was still here. Still alive. Her head was fully intact on her shoulders. Lightyears from the girl who'd been murdered on his watch.

He couldn't let it happen again.

So he would stay, keeping an invisible safeguard around her at all times, marking her as his to protect.

Today she was all smiles and he reveled in her, straightening his arm against the brick building at his back to find a better look as she crossed the small courtyard. The school was small, unassuming.

On the outskirts of town.

But the trek was always worth it.

The voices inside him had silenced. For now. He knew there would always be a 'for now' attached to any semblance of sanity he might have left. She grounded him, tethering him to the reality he'd chosen to stand for - even if Dabi had been distancing himself since his confession after the job that night, months ago.

Her parents' car arrived, an old silver thing. This was the part he dreaded - when she disappeared into the country. He'd tried following her home before, but without a vehicle of his own he couldn't keep up for quite so long. So he would have to wait for another day, another opportunity to brighten his life with the hope of Ochaco.

It was mere coincidence, though, that hours later as he stepped out of the gas station, sneakers crunching on the asphalt parking lot and a fresh box of cigarettes in hand, that he saw her again. At first, he'd thought he was starting to hallucinate. Perhaps he'd been too eager, too optimistic about the future he fantasized about with her where they could finally run away from being helpless clones and start new lives side by side.

He was sure she felt it too. The mindlessness and monotony of life ever since their mission. Because what value could you really find in a life you weren't even sure was yours? So, he knew, if he could just get a moment alone with her - if he could just talk to her then she would understand him.

She had to.

She was there.

Wasn't she?

He tapped the stiff box of cigarettes against his temple, harder and harder.

Lines were blurring, he knew. But that was just the difficulty of his situation; how was he supposed to know what was real and what was quirk-made after an event that ripped the idea of his salvation right from his grasp?

Making quick work of the cellophane wrapping, he popped open the white box of smokes and licked his finger beneath his mask before pulling out his first cigarette - so ready for a draw. His inhale burned his raw throat, the nicotine sending a lightheaded buzz through his blood. Stepping toward her was natural, following her was necessary.

Her and her blonde friend walked lazily down the sidewalk ahead of him and as his thick-soled boot touched down on the concrete walkway, she turned and her lips parted in a laugh like a tinkling bell, singing its way to his ears.

All she wanted was happiness and all he wanted was to give it to her.

He hadn't meant for his steps to catch up to them, hadn't meant to find himself close enough to smell the soft strawberry scent of her shampoo or make out the perfect hue of her natural blush in the last breaths of sunset.

Before he knew it, he was too close.

"Hey," the blonde girl grunted against him as he ushered them out of the watching eyes of the movie-goers just ahead. "What do you think you're doing?" she snapped, her small voice disguised with youth, but he still saw the looming threat beneath. She would stand between them. She would hold Ochaco back from her freedom, the joy he could bring her.

The knife was in his hands before he could think, before he could realize the same weapon he'd used to slaughter himself over and over again had sunk into the girl's flesh, tearing through to the depths of her life.

He had to save himself - whatever version of himself he was now.

Even if he wasn't real, even if the wide eyed girl backing into the shadows wasn't real either.

He didn't remember the rage, didn't remember the pain leaking from his eyes as heavy tears. He didn't remember when he'd splintered so.

However, he could remember every detail of the fine, feminine features of Ochaco Uraraka as he stepped toward her in the dark. She cried alongside him, watched him as he watched her. He felt a bond, a woven piece of himself that reached out to her, slithering inside of her and finding a long lost home. This was where he belonged. Beside her, where he could protect her from anyone and anything that stood in the way of the dream he held for them both.

They didn't have to lead these false lives.

They could be free.

Together.

He couldn't remember the words that fell haphazardly from his lips, nor when he noticed they'd been spotted. He couldn't remember when he'd realized he'd killed her friend, when he'd made the decision to flee and leave her behind. He couldn't remember her croaked whispers of screams for help or the brokenness in her pale cheeks and shaking limbs.

He couldn't remember the exact moment he'd fallen in love with Ochaco Uraraka, when he'd made the silent vow to watch over her - to rescue her one day, when the time was right.

He remembered her vacant eyes.

Eyes so much like the ones he'd seen just before the old man's quirk decimated any trace of her face, her stare, her lips, her blush.

He remembered what happened to copies like them, what was left after reality caught up.

He would never let that happen to her.

He would take her far, far away from any future beyond the freedom he'd pictured for them that day, months ago. They would be together. They would be safe.

He promised.