Sakamata claimed the sea wasp was too docile for me to claim.
You don't float into dangerous waters, he'd said. You create them.
But I also possessed a brain I couldn't turn off- one he frightened and exhausted and ferociously challenged, until I learned to silence all thought, all sound, and bleed into my surroundings. The knife never sank in more subtly than when it rested in plain sight, right up until the kill.
Thaumoctopus Mimicus. The Mimic Octopus.
It certainly didn't carry the clever ring Chiyonex did, but nevertheless my mentor's musings influenced my appearance; outside of the blood concentration laced into my outer arteries, my suit's composition had been altered to become seventy-five percent aqueous, meaning I could bend and reform its shape to my will. I didn't alter the surroundings to fit my needs- I became the surroundings.
Shadowy camouflage wasn't needed in this instance. Considering the skeevy, leering nature of men who push illegal drugs into the hands of any man, woman, or child asking for them, I suspected the more skin I showed, the easier I'd be able to subtract whatever information I needed.
I felt a new level of deceit as the material washed from the shore of my collar bones and parted the sea between, swelled underneath the remaining modesty and emphasized something I generally lacked.
If teaching and heroism didn't work out, I could become a millionaire with my submersive rendition of a water bra.
I shook the ridiculous thought from my excitable adrenaline. You need to focus, guppy.
"Hello, boys."
Azakuku and the old man wandered away nearly five minutes ago; they'd be long gone by now.
Leaving a flock of unguarded sheep ripe for the reaping.
They bristled instead like cagey alley cats, turning quickly to make sure their backs weren't exposed to another surprise assailant. I sauntered a little closer with what I hoped looked like an alluring smirk and green confidence. To hide in the open, you must be open. Float into their psyche. The lure is cast before the barb.
Four sets of eyes instantly traveled towards the man in the garage, lingering as if the outdoor lighting might burn his demeanor...or to differentiate himself from the group in more ways than his enhanced physique and sharp gaze.
The leader, then.
"The fuck are you?" One of the wire-limbed goons spat. I tilted my head, feigning hurt.
"Is that any way to talk to a lady?"
"Dunno. Find me a lady and we'll ask her."
Ouch.
"Who are you?"
I stepped a little closer, careful to swing my hips. Two took the bait, suddenly taking notice of the other parts of me that were a little softer than my cut-glass smile.
"Just a girl with a particularly strong sense of smell," I tapped the side of my nose while giving the older, jumpy mule a full look-over. He tensed when my eyes flirted with his.
"So, what? You smelt a group of good-lookin' dudes and thought you'd come say hello?"
"I smell all kinds of things around here," The trio of normal sleaze were openly ogling me as I circled them. I took a deep breath. "Salt from the ocean, dolphin flubber going to spoil in the old man's superstition shop. But something else, too. Something potent and...wicked." I moved close enough to feel the stench of a mule's breath on my skin, inhaled as if catching wind of the pine-and-pencil comfort of Shota rather than what was actually assaulting my senses. "You all reek of it."
More shifty eyes towards the motionless leader of brawn before promptly moving back to the curve of my waist, the exposed skin of my chest.
"So?"
"So, I want in."
"In what?"
Only the yuppies had spoken so far. I turned my attention to the tall one instead, brows lifted in a light, playful challenge.
"So. It's obvious these kiddies don't know squat about this operation. Whatever shit you're on, it sucks out all your brains, right?" I sauntered a step closer and pointed a finger bridled in knowingly naive boldness. "But you. Your brain's still ticking, meaning they chose you to be the leader of this gang of morons. So are we going to continue this little banter, or are we going to get serious?"
Crickets.
And then, like the last second before the shark fin became a cave of glittering white teeth, the leader smiled and stepped into the light.
"You're as tall as All Might, up close," I commented when his shadow engulfed my stature. With careful hands placed on my hips and a cocked jaw, I could just see the point of his sharp nose. Taller than Gang Orca, for sure. What's that put him at, seven foot? Either a gigantism or power quirk, I suspected. He lifted one meaty paw towards my face. His pinkie finger caressed the entire length of my profile.
"Who are you?"
"Just a girl with a bad habit," Not entirely a lie- I did drink far too much soda and take huge gambles on overseas clothing sites. One corner of his mouth lifted at the coy response. For a moment he almost looked handsome.
"And what makes you think we'd need a mouse like you?"
Scratch that- he wasn't handsome. Just another run-of-the-mill, condescending asshat.
Good.
I smiled real pretty, pointed a finger at the actual mouse. "See that man over there? He's your weak link; I can smell the turning on him. The second you put him on the job is the instant you all go down in flames. Isn't that right, friend?"
"I-I don't-" The balding man licked his lips and his owlish eyes blinked, as if struggling to wake from a walking nightmare. "I just want- When do we get to see her again-"
"Shut him up," The leader snapped. A fellow mule quickly socked the confused man in the stomach. He fell with an oof before coughing up a sickly puddle of bile. I shook my head in disdain.
"See? That dude looks like he should be carrying a briefcase around, not whatever you guys have. What is it, anyway?"
The leader looked at me, hard. Regulation monitored my vitals even as a slow thread of bloodwater trickled from my right heel.
"It's called the cure."
"H-Hey, Fidelity said we shouldn't-"
One giant hand raised, index finger extended towards the sky. The mule fell quiet. I kept my eyes trained on the man before me and he did the same, piercing through the layers with a deadly, silent force no weaker than radiation through flesh.
It isn't a power quirk. It's something much, much more dangerous.
"Who's Fidelity?"
"She's your ticket into this gig."
"So how do I find her?"
His breath felt like a hot fan on my face as he leaned down. "You still haven't given me a single damn reason I should tell or trust you."
"Want me to pinkie promise? Maybe spit in my hand and shake on it?" I was playing a dangerous game; we both knew it. But I could feel the four heartbeats behind me now, connected by a spindle of submersion. Their frequencies all read with damning clarity through my own system.
It was obvious- Azakuku chose only one of each group to retain individual thought and memory. The over-aged, befuddled one was instantly out, and I doubted the three stooges were anything more than assembly machines with lungs, especially considering their frenzied heart rates even at rest.
Which only leaves this guy.
"You know, you really shouldn't smile that wide. Shows off that fugly tooth of yours," The Leader said, grin turning like the soured curve of a pumpkin rind.
Venom licked my heart, and I pounced.
Leg guided by the aid of a watery vein, foot falling hard into the side of his knee. I caught his yelp between my waiting fingers, angling forward so my face would be only a breath away from his, lips parted. The dark indigo of his eyes disappeared underneath dilation. He was nearly my height now, kneeling before me.
The second my hand made contact, his infrastructure was mine for the reaping.
Two of the mules moved to rush me; the leader raised a halting hand.
Because the moment I entered his bloodstream, I sent every available molecule to one very sensitive area.
I suppressed a shiver of disgust when he breathed out a moan.
"Who is Fidelity?" The murmur was just loud enough to reach his ears. His chest rolled a lazy breath, collecting focus.
"One of the Boss's Graces."
What the fuck did that mean? "Graces?"
"Fidelity, Somnium, and...Euphoria," He sighed, needing a little extra coddling to press out the answer. "Virtues. Sins. Whatever. It's what they...Go by."
A nagging piece of my brain wanted to point out the oxymoron he'd just cooed out, but I was working on a time limit here and every second extra would have to be later exchanged in trying to scrub my brain of this memory.
Three other players. Leaders? Partners?
"Which one of them can get me some Cure?"
His head managed a little shake, though his eyes remained disconcertingly on mine.
"They are the cure."
"But the drugs- I can smell them on you-" His head fell back. An apple bobbed once, pinballed up his throat and back down. The movement brought me closer and suddenly there was a hand curling around my waist, trailing down the slope above my thigh. I grimaced- not at the touch, but his pathetically low endurance. He was only seconds away from my little sensual scam being a complete bust. Oh, another gross pun. "I've seen Cure before and it was a real, concrete product. What was that, then?"
The question fell on deaf ears; he was too blissed out by now to answer. I need to work on pacing, damn it.
I barely had time to register his hand closing around my backside, a rumbling groan curling out in a breath wretched with nicotine and the sickly-sweet scent of decay, before a crazed shriek filled the air.
"A hero- A fucking hero!" It was one of those featherbrained thugs, screaming bloody murder and stabbing one shaking finger behind us. But he wasn't wrong; a vision of darkness had descended into our midst.
His system was erratic. Air ripped through his lungs like a dragon preparing to lay ruin.
The glowing red of his eyes didn't burn with his quirk, but rage.
And they were locked on to the hand currently squeezing my ass.
Damn it, Eraser Brain.
I needed an alternate plan with no time to think of one. Two of the mules had jumped back in defensive positions and one was caught in a web of capturing bandages, leaving only the plump, terrified man in my submersive grasp, and whatever the leader's quirk was, I knew I wouldn't be able to hold him for long.
But Sakamata had barreled at me enough vicious times to teach me how to think on my feet.
I blinked; in that half second the elder mule's heart took a sudden, abrupt pause, and he fell onto ground slick with a damp that froze the instant his skin embraced the particles. The leader watched, wide-eyed and too slow, as I ripped off a golden chain sporting a fist-sized cylinder of fluorite from his neck.
I turned and threw it with all my might at the pit of Eraser Head's stomach.
"Go," I breathed. "Run."
The rock was only a distraction; one he easily overcame. I was in Eraser's face instantly, aiming a barrage of fists and kicks at his weak points. He'd taken down another of the moronic trio before I'd stolen his focus. The other was panicking, looking between the three of us as he shook the slumped body of the mule I'd already rendered unconscious.
"He's not waking up!"
"What part of run don't you understand?!" I shouted incredulously. A knee into my abdomen stole the breath from of my body; I'd attacked a predator, hoping for relenting prey.
Please, forgive me.
I knew his movements, even if he'd cancelled my quirk in the confusion. I ducked, counted the seconds left before his inevitable blink, made my move.
And like the bastard he was, Shota turned in the opposite direction of what I expected, the trajectory of my fist now aiming for the outer corner of his goggles.
But I needed skin-to-skin contact for this to work.
And so, pain already disintegrating my senses at the idea, I slammed my fist into the corner of his face.
He was down instantly. I panicked as I straddled his collapsing body, vision blurred by blood. So much blood. I took a breath, tried to focus. Relief swept through like a tidal wave at the sight of my shaking, oddly-crooked fingers. It's my blood. Not his.
"We gotta go!"
"We can't leave-"
"The Hoppers will be here in seconds!" I pointed at the still-comatose body of the elder mule while glaring at the others. Think. Thinkthinkthinkthink. "They're ravagers; when they're done, there will be nothing left of him. Go!"
"What about you?"
The leader was up, eyeing Shota like a potential floor rug. I fought against the protectiveness hunching my shoulders and kept one menacing foot on Shota's chest, as if holding him down. The dizziness sinking into my veins made keeping my balance a harder task than it should've been.
I picked up the boulder of a necklace- heavier than it'd felt earlier- and tossed it towards its owner. "I'll be fine; I'll keep this one down until the Hoppers show up. I know them. Might pay me a pretty finder's fee for a bona fide hero like this. Now go. It's not safe here, especially since you're not a local."
The birdbrained mule needed no further instruction; instantly he had one of the bound cohorts over his shoulders. He looked to the mousey partner, considered for a moment, and then promptly fled into the night.
The leader was a tougher sell. He continued to watch me from his mountainous height. Sweat beaded my hairline; if he decided to attack, I might not be quick enough to escape with Shota and the unconscious mule in tow.
But fuck this mission, if it came to that; Shota Aizawa would be the one I made sure escaped.
Instead of a fist, though, a hand offering a torn bit of paper extended in my direction.
"Go to the address, and you'll find Fidelity."
I took the paper, tried to hide the tremble in my fingers. "Thank you."
"Uzu," He offered.
"Uzu," I repeated with a watery smile. He looked me up and down again, but it wasn't like the leering of before. Instead I felt, quite disarmingly, that Uzu was truly seeing me.
For such a large man he slipped quietly into the night, mixing better into the darkened corners than even submersion allowed me. I puffed out a breath of relief before falling to my knees, overcome in more ways than one.
Through extensive training I'd found submersion worked near flawlessly so long as two conditions were met: I had direct contact to the person, and, if I were tampering with an individual's circulatory system, the regulation worked best if mine matched the pulse I was trying to elicit.
I'd barely grazed Shota's cheek before I hurtled submersion into his system, and I sure as shit hadn't been the zen calm I tried to beat into his chest.
What if I put him in an actual coma?
Pain and blood still sluiced out of the gash haloing one of my fingers. Why hadn't it clotted yet?
I looked down to find a ghoulish version of a ring caught in the tissue of one oozing finger, yellow metal gleaming in the street lights.
His goggles.
I'd smashed right through them and pulled away with a farewell gift.
The dummy had brought his phone with him, still on ring; I rummaged it out of his pocket, guessed his pitiful password, and made a swift phone call.
Then, the Hoppers really did show up ten minutes later.
She was smiling at him.
Not the normal, polite smile she offered strangers out of some sense of morality, but softer. The kind that wrinkled up her nose and all his will with it, regardless of her antics.
In this case, the antics of her curled over on her side of the bed, using the sleepy filter of morning light to read by.
Where had she even gotten the book from?
Her spine was like a staircase, destination hidden by a swath of dark, curling hair, obscuring the characters sword fighting or kissing or whatever silly thing happened in those novels her nose was always buried in.
She'd shifted when his fingers walked the pathway to her mind and that's how he received her smile- this smile, sheepish at being caught.
"Why didn't you just get up?"
"Because I find I'm most at peace when I'm close enough to hear you breathe."
There was someone waiting, smiling at him in the now, in the light of consciousness, as his eyes shuttered open, but based on the smoky breath he sincerely doubted it was Chiyo and immediately wished himself still asleep.
"Eraser! Dude, thank god!"
It was a Hopper brother, too-far-apart eyes characteristically bugging out of their sockets in excitement. Aizawa promptly closed his eyes again and wished more fervently.
"Dude! Get over here, he's awake!"
"Shit, Eraser! You've been clonked for hours; I wish I slept that good- Oi, get Chi-Chi! She'll finally stop pacing- Where'd she-"
Aizawa sat up so abruptly the nearest brother jumped and scrambled out of the way before recalling the situation. He quickly put hands on the wounded man's chest, easing him back down. "Yo! You can't be-"
"Where is she?" His voice sounded groggy- how long had he been asleep? His eyes felt clearer than they had in weeks; the red tingeing them had nothing to do with insomnia as his sluggish brain put together all the dialogue. "What did you just call her?"
Before the Hopper brothers could razz their friend and consequently be bludgeoned by him, a familiar silhouette slipped into the periphery from a side door. Her eyes expanded in surprise before narrowing.
"I leave for two minutes-"
"He woke on his own!" Ichiro exclaimed.
"Yeah, we didn't do anything!" Jiro defended.
Chiyo didn't seem to care. Her hands were warm against the curves of his jaw, careful and assessing. She ran a thumb over the silver glint of his scar and felt his head for bumps or bruises. There was a greenish tint to her skin, like sunlight trapped in swampy water, and one hand was heavily wrapped in what looked like an old T-shirt.
"Chiyo?"
"Are you okay? How do you feel?" She inspected his ears, the ivory of his neck. The grown-adult brothers stifled giggles behind open hands. "I don't usually use submersion like that- so quickly, without-"
"Chiyo," He tried to say as levelly as he could manage, seeing that the T-shirt-bandage on her hand probably hadn't originally been the sticky, gleaming red it was now. He caught her wrists with the same amount of gentleness in his voice. "You need to lie down."
"We've been telling her that for hours-"
"-she wouldn't take any medicine because she was afraid it might make her drowsy-like-"
"-then she wouldn't be able to see you wake up and make sure you were okay."
The two looked at Aizawa again, gooey smiles and knowing eyes enough to rot a gummy bear sour. The implications would doubtlessly lead to an exhausting conversation later, but Chiyo's green-gilled face needed all of his focus. He stilled her still-searching hands by closing his fingers around hers.
"I'm fine-"
"If they realized we were together, they would've ran straight to Azakuku and complicated everything. This way, by attacking you like I was villainous, it just seemed like a routine patrol catch gone awry-"
"I understand."
"Together?" The brothers voiced in unified coyness.
Chiyo staggered, as if having forgotten their existences. Aizawa cast a quick glare over his shoulder as he replaced himself with Chiyo on the small cot, careful of her injured hand. The T-shirt made a sickening, squishing sound with the movement. It was more of a swelled sponge than a shirt at this point.
"What happened?"
"Her hand got caught on your goggles when Chi-Chi cleaned your clock!" Ichiro sounded strangely proud.
"It was nasty looking- Urrugh," Jiro quickly turned, unable to stomach the congealing, bloodied digit Aizawa exposed upon unwrapping Chiyo's finger. She, too, took on another shade of sallow before her eyes evaded.
Her ring finger looked as if it'd gotten caught in a pair of scissors.
"Chiyo," He couldn't help but sigh. She peeked at him but quickly looked away, afraid to glimpse her own hand being gingerly held in his. "Why didn't it clot sooner?"
"I'd punched you in the face and then knocked you out cold," She grumbled. "I thought I'd put you into a coma. So after Ichi and Jiro showed up and helped carry you two off, I needed to watch and regulate your circulatory system, just in case."
Ichi? Aizawa looked at the brother. He grinned back. Explains the Chi-Chi then, I guess.
"Two of us?"
"The plump, older mule. He's still out like a light in the other room, tied up just in case he gets an inkling to run. Shouldn't be a problem though." Chiyo looked at the brothers for clarity. They gave a uniform nod.
"He ain't going nowhere."
A double negative. Aizawa's exhausted sigh brought a smile to Chiyo's lips. The sight played across his ribs like a xylophone. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"Six days, dude." The brothers laughed at his stricken face. "Nah, it's only been like five or six hours."
Better than days, but still more time than Chiyo should've spent upright and worrying over him, bleeding out all her energy as a precaution.
"Do you have a first aid kit? I'm also going to need a needle and thread."
Chiyo's face looked like a pale sand dollar caught between seaweed. The brothers equally blanched at the insinuation of what needed to be done. Aizawa gave them a pointed stare.
"What are you waiting for?"
The peace of their absence was enough to relax Aizawa's muscles and his posture slackened with obvious relief, nearly basking in the sudden quiet.
"Do you think...Maybe I should just go to a doctor?" Chiyo asked with a lick of her lips. Her hand looked small and fragile on his knee, fingertips trembling in their own dance. A nearly uncontrollable urge to bury her into his chest, pull the pain from her skin and drink it as penance, filled him. But that wasn't what she needed; this wasn't about him.
"I'll be very gentle. You just need one stitch between your middle and ring fingers, otherwise it'll take a lot longer to heal. Do you think you can slow the blood flow when I take care of it?"
Chiyo's sharkskin exterior seemed no thicker than a jellyfish's now. He tried to remain strong as he watched her swallow, before giving a small, begrudging nod. He massaged gentle circles into her palm, pretended not to witness the creeping rose in her features at his touch.
"Ice, huh?"
"Small amounts, best used for projectiles." Her lips gave a suggestive little quirk. "Or restraints."
He hummed, taking all the materials Ichiro and Jiro offered before banishing them once more. The first aid kit included everything he needed and then some. Why is there a box of condoms in here?
"Planning on using those restraints in other circumstances, Chiyonex?"
She laughed. Which was good, because doing so masked the pain of antiseptic, just a little.
"I'm not sure the person I'm seeing would be into that. I'll have to ask him."
Aizawa didn't know if he was being risky or the relief of her being safe led him to quip back; "I'm available for a test run, if need be."
Chiyo looked up in surprise. He continued to focus on the mending of her paled skin, both for accuracy and as a method to not over-analyze her expression. A finger twitched with the stitch's incision before her whole figure relaxed, just slightly.
"That's nice of you to offer, Eraser, but I'm kind of in love with someone." She took a quick inhale. "Well, not kind of- It's more like that can't-breath-can't-sleep, haven't-had-a-coherent-thought-in-months kind of love. You know?"
"Are you insinuating you've ever had a coherent thought?"
He was glad to have looked up in time to see the surprise light her eyes, along with that smile. He didn't even mind her gaze flicking down, noting the telltale of his nerves hidden between layers of scarf before rising back to his.
It was odd, how sharing a space with someone, even in a recycling shop smelling of damp cardboard and burnt coffee, could suddenly feel so intimate, intense. Chiyo swayed closer; he followed, like a tether tied between them.
"Why did you interrupt me? I was getting answers," Her argument came in a murmur, close enough to taste. An ache filled his chest with salt and honey.
"I let the chipped tooth comment slide; I couldn't remain idle after that gutter trash put his hands on you."
This close, it was almost easier to feel her blush than witness its blooming color.
"You also didn't mention your suit's new little...ability, either."
"You mean my clever water bra?" Aizawa pulled his eyes away from the cupid's bow of her curving top lip, tripped instead into her eyes. "It's not the only new feature; Sakamta's engineering group created a dry water polymer formed into an underwire, so I'm always packing. Get it?" He almost lost it at her ridiculous, overly-animated expression over such a stupid, quintessential Chiyo-pun. "Plus this little doodad-"
Chiyo lifted her injured hand. Circling her wrist was a rather plain bracelet of gold. Her smirk went floppy at his confusion and she offered her arm again, until he took hold of her forearm to examine the bracelet closer.
Hundreds of little veins webbed across the gold, sapphire in color and moving. How hadn't he noticed the blue tint before now? He turned her wrist over to examine the full spectrum of hidden water, placed innocently in such a dainty piece of jewelry. She laughed delightedly at his wonder.
"Very professional, hm?"
"All you're missing now is a utility belt."
Her limbs were mostly bare; at some point the Hopper brothers must've convinced her to change, body lost in a tied-up T-shirt and athletic shorts acting more like capris down her legs.
Slowly, his lips searched out her arm for the crescent scar. She went very still, breath a soft inhale of surprise.
"Shota,"
His name sounded too delicate in her mouth, like something worth saying with tenderness. A shiver shook free his emotions like ripe fruit.
"I think your hair might be shorter than mine."
"For now," She used the hand he released to tug on blunted edges, already brushing past her shoulders. There was a slight, almost unnoticeable tremble in her fingertips. He didn't think it was from the injury. Chiyo's feline smile walked back across her features.
"Does this mean you're the damsel now? Longer hair, fainting in my arms-"
"I didn't faint, you punched me in the face-"
"You didn't pass out because I decked you. I used submersion-"
He gave a loud hum of derision and she threw her head back and laughed.
And then she was looking at him.
Looking at him in that pulled-petal sort of way, like she saw straight through to his middle, past scarf and skin and everything else he used as barriers from the outside world. Like she knew him.
Like she still loved him.
The edges of her hair angled like a closing curtain. The floral scent of her skin dazed his senses, lulled him closer, closer.
"Chiyo, I-"
"Did neither of you think to call me?"
Aizawa shared Chiyo's shiver at the fish-scale-on-chalkboard voice hissing into the room; it was almost enough to bury his frustration at being interrupted for the millionth time in a single week.
Toro stalked in on razored anger. He nearly glowed around the opaque gills fluttering on either side of his throat, needle teeth gnashing.
"I have been trying to contact you for hours-"
Chiyo fell back on the cot with a snort. A red hot flush made her look just as angry, even if Toro had nothing to do with the coloring.
"Insubordination- Reckless abandonment of-"
"You need to calm down," Chiyo said flatly. "As I recall, Sakamata said we were working together on this investigation- he never deemed you leader," She brought her newly-bandaged hand up to her face, inspected the handiwork with mild interest. "He also didn't mention what a dick you are, but I suspect that was intentional."
Toro sputtered like a fish out of water. Chiyo must've thought the same, as another snort huffed out of her nose.
"You could've have blown everything out of the water with your childish actions-"
"Do you, like, go out of your way to use nautical analogies, or do they just happen naturally?"
"If you had answered your phone-"
"Why would I have taken a cell phone on a highly sensitive stakeout-"
"-Then you could have been informed of the turn of events," Toro said through gritted teeth. Chiyo waved off his next retort and kicked her legs over the side of the cot. She blinked at the envelope Toro now held up. Even from this distance, they both managed to make out the addressed receiver:
Shota Aizawa
"You've been...Collecting Eraser's mail?" Chiyo asked, confused. Toro suppressed a sigh, letting it flow out of his nose like he was dealing with a great idiot.
"This came for Eraser Head yesterday evening. The woman who collected the mail- Nemuri Kayama, who I take is Midnight- suspected something was awry and brought it to UA for analysis. The contents inside were laced with Cure-"
"Is she okay?" Chiyo exclaimed. Aizawa caught her just before she bounced out of the bed and clawed Toro to death for answers. "What happened? Was that all that was in the envelope?"
"Midnight, curiously, is fine. The potency of the letter was enough to seep through the analysts gloves and send him into a fit- perhaps it has something to do with her quirk? What I have here is a duplicate, made to prevent any such symptoms formulating in us-"
"Her quirk, or because she's a woman?" Aizawa thought out loud. Chiyo nodded in wonder, staring off into space.
"We still haven't run into a female mule. You might be on to something with that." She agreed. "What'd the letter say?"
They both hated the way Toro suddenly preened, knowing he held their full attention. He paused, relishing Chiyo's sullen submission, before reading;
"You are cordially invited to the gathering of the year.
Come celebrate in the irenic glories of euphoria and find the answer to all desires.
The cure to life awaits.
"This...This is the invitation you-"
"Procured for the two of you, for Jamon Azakuku's soiree this Saturday evening. Yes."
Aizawa shook his head. "This can't have been sent due to tonight's events- you said this came yesterday?"
"Yes."
"So then how-"
"Damsels," Chiyo murmured.
Both men turned. Aquamarine hair shifted in the low light as Chiyo gazed up, expression lost in thought. "That's how they're finding the mules."
"What?" Toro's patience languished at the bottom of a barrel. "Do you understand why it's so important to remain vigilant and in contact now, Tsutomi? While you were off sashaying with common criminals, larger events were unfolding-"
"Would you just shut up for a fucking second?"
Whatever softened edges Aizawa witnessed only moments ago sharpened themselves now into a grim line. Chiyo snuck a hand into the waistband of her shorts before raising her arm. A slip of yellow paper waved hello between two raised fingers.
"We gleaned a lot of information off those idiots; namely, Jamon Azakuku's mule procurer."
"Without a warrant or any evidence stronger than hearsay, we can't very well approach them," Toro said.
Chiyo shook her head.
"We won't need a warrant to enter this address."
Toro's milky eyes stared her down, mocking. "Oh? And why's that?"
A trace of pain skimmed across Chiyo's brow.
"Because I've been there before."
A/N: Get yourself a man who wants to kick someone's ass just for criticizing your chipped tooth.
If you're a trifle confused, then you're in the exact mindset of Shota Aizawa. I wonder why Chiyo's so dazed? Will she explain her suspicions? Will I ever stop leaving terrible cliffhangers? Who knows!
Thank you for the terrific reviews! I get so giddy reading them, it's embarrassing. I survived my second vaccine shot and it was twelve hours of madness, but I'm back and better than ever! Woo woo!