-This is made by Starrshard on Ao3 and Wattpad, please check them out. I have been given permission to upload this to, as they do not have an account on this website-
The next day, the class decided to host another banquet.
Tsuyu was in charge of baking, as per usual. Nejire helped her out, kept a close eye on her to make sure she didn't do anything unpredictable; Tsuyu saw the right in that. She wasn't sure if she could trust herself, either.
As she slipped the tray of pastries into the oven, cautious not to get burned, certain thoughts began to swim around her head.
Ochako. Rikidou. The unlucky bakers...
Haha... baker's dozen is thirteen, right? Unlucky number thirteen, the unlucky bakers who died first.
Aren't I funny? You are funny. Yes, very.
Despite having a job at hand to pin focus on, she couldn't help but get lost in her head again. It was always hard not to.
Ah, the deja vu... baking pastries. Fumikage will come over and ask me if this was my way of remembering Ochako, right? He'll come over any moment, right?
Tsuyu closed the oven -safely, wearing oven mitts, right Nejire?- and took off the gloves, turning in the direction of the grill, half-expecting to see a certain bird-headed boy standing there, making barbeque with Mezou.
And there he is. The sleek figure of Fumikage hovered by Mezou, staring blankly down at the sauce-coated pieces of meat on the fire. Mezou's strong hands were working the tongs and the flame, of course they were; after all, Fumikage didn't have hands.
The pale boy's arms were cut off by the elbow, revealing the bone and cartilage of the joint. Blood did not run; only clotted at the sever. Fumikage's eyes were blank; unmoving.
Right. Just a statue, a figurehead. She'd tried interacting with her presumably dead friends many times before; they never responded. Never said anything, never paid her any attention. She wasn't sure if she cared at this point, even if seeing Fumikage ignore her or Ochako refusing to talk to her stung.
At the end of the day, they were dead anyway, right?
We can only move forward, right?
Right?
Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Ri-
"Tsu." She was snapped out of her train of thought by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Nejire gazing down at her. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Tsuyu turned back to her oven. One glance at the timer revealed she had just half a minute left before she had to swap out the trays. "But thank you."
She finished up her baking job in twenty minutes- slipping the last tray into the oven, decorating them after they'd cooled a little. She had to eat a few herself because she majorly messed them up after spacing out; one was drowned in precious red berry gel when Nejire poked her and got the Swimmer to center herself. But the end product was still the same; a nice, ornate plate of delicate cookies. Nejire carried it into the dining hall last, showing Tsuyu her seat, before racing back into the kitchen to make drinks with Mezou.
Tsuyu sat down. Looking at the meal, the class had managed to pick up some cooperation -at Mirio's urging, obviously- and prepared some edible objects. Edible objects. Haha. I have a way of words, don't I?
A few minutes later, Nejire and Mezou stepped back into the cafeteria, acting as the waiter and waitress. Drink servers. The silver trays held tall, cool drinks in glasses, paired with cheery straws, slices of fruit, and paper umbrellas to top it off. They began setting one before each person seated around the dining table. Tsuyu thanked Nejire as she set a lemon seltzer by her plate; the pale yellow fizzled and bubbled, a slice of the sour fruit clipped on the rim of the glass.
The meal began; the atmosphere was surprisingly content. Tsuyu ate quietly by the Beauty Pageant's side, observing the others. Sometimes Nejire would even humor her and chat, even if she seemed visibly confused by some of the younger girl's words.
Yaomomo was making small talk with Shouto. Mezou ate silently as well, as if still sulking, but responded to Shouto's prompting accordingly, the Theorist leading them into a short conversation. Tamaki was swapping drinks with Mirio, and the latter was attempting to feed him. Denki was saying something to Hitoshi, as well as apparently making sure the violette ate his meal; the Electrician looked like he was on the verge of tears. But then again, he always does. Look at the bags under his eyes, the redness of his nose, the bandages peeking out just under his cuffs, engulfed in shadow and hastily applied, hastily hidden...
Ochako, Izuku, and Tenya hovered by Shouto, their haunted eyes lowered to their live friend. Blood covered the brunette girl's skin and clothes, dried and crusty. Tenya had a spear sticking out his back, the silver blade dripping black liquid. Izuku was pale, his skin wrinkled like a prune. Their eyes were sunken and shiny, the whites dull; maybe worms have taken residence within the eyeballs. Wriggle, wriggle... ahaha. Wriggle. What a funny word. Wriggle.
Hanta, Mina, Katsuki, and Eijirou crowded behind Denki, their figures merging into one monstrous morph of bodies. They watched him like snakes, their combined figure writhing. Like a failed lab experiment. Maybe they were made in the same lab Tooru was killed in. Oh, maybe, under the cover of that pink liquid, they were secretly the ones who ate her. I wonder if we could investigate execution fields...
The chimera-Bakusquad forced Kyouka to take a place by Yaomomo instead, her arms flopped down on the Detective's shoulders, fingers linked in front of the taller's chest. She rested her chin atop the ravenette's head. Her skin was gray, eyes shut. She looked like a zombie, one that had crawled out of its grave to visit its friends.
Mashirao was doing something similar to Hitoshi, hugging him from behind, chair and all. His tail flicked back and forth, wreathing forward like a serpent, or a demented snake, rubbing against the violette. There was a demented grin on his face; his teeth were sharp, like Eijirou's, but sharper than even that. His black scleras and red irises reminded Tsuyu, strangely, of a vampire, or a ghoul. Fumikage still stood by Mezou, by his friend, gazing at the meal with a blank expression. He still had no arms.
Nejire swapped between making small talk with Tsuyu and Mirio and Tamaki. She was looking a little better, physically; Tamaki had insisted she take care of herself, much to Tsuyu's relief. Of course, even if the bags under her eyes had faded, and she gained a bit more weight, Tsuyu could still see the fractures in her eyes, in her heart, in her mind.
We're all broken, aren't we?
There was an illness getting passed around.
The next day, Mezou grumbled of a stomachache as the class gathered in the kitchen, saying that if someone poisoned his food he was going to kill them.
"That is, if the poison in your stomach doesn't kill you first," Yaomomo said dryly. Mezou's eyes widened slightly. He glared at her. "Kidding, kidding."
"I'll just sweat the poison out later," the Heavylifter muttered.
Shouto was also ill. He commented that he'd evidently come down with the same stomach bug as Mezou. Denki muttered that there was probably medicine in the Nurse's Office.
At breakfast, Mirio also cropped up as looking a bit uncomfortable. Tsuyu was pretty sure he decided not to mention it during food prep, in hopes of not worrying any of his classmates and believing it would go away, but Tamaki noticed the moment they sat down. Nejire had picked up on it rather swiftly as well; she pointed it out to Tsuyu as they ate. Between the pounding in her head -actual, literal pounding, like the sound of a trash compactor upon a metal board- and the whispers that brushed her ears, she made out a part of the conversation the two Big Three members were having.
"Hey. Mirio. Are you feeling okay?" Tamaki's voice was laced with concern; his indigo eyes reflected that worry.
"Oh. Yeah, I'm fine!" Mirio was cheery as ever. "Just the stomach bug going around right now. It's nothing to worry about, really. Maybe the villains haven't been getting the freshest of food recently."
"That's definitely something to worry about," Tamaki insisted. "What if it's poisoned?"
"It wouldn't be. They said they won't interfere with us, right?" Mirio paused, likely upon taking in his boyfriend's worried face. "It'll be fine, Tamaki, trust me."
Tsuyu hoped he was right.
...
He was wrong.
Two days later, Tsuyu found herself in the gym.
Mirio and Nejire were sparring. Tamaki and Tsuyu herself were sitting and watching, content with seeing their friends active together.
The mysterious abdominal illness throughout the class hadn't spread further, but the infected were consistent in symptoms, or worsening. Mezou tried sweating out the poison, which didn't work; at the moment, he was in the kitchen making warm water, or something along those lines. Mirio was still ill, but also trying to get moving to sweat it out. Shouto had decided to rest in the library with a pile of books and Yaomomo's tea and snacks.
Tsuyu watched, a little dazed, as Nejire and Mirio sparred. Back and forth, back and forth, like a seesaw, a seesaw, how funny. Mmh, like one of those rocking boat things at the amusement park, the ride that rocks back and forth, while centrifugal force keeps you in your seat. I want to go on one...
She watched as Nejire whirled and landed a relatively gentle kick to Mirio's abdomen. Mirio flinched and bounced back. Realizing her mistake of kicking someone who has a stomachache in the stomach, the bluette turned and hit the ground. "Wah! Sorry, Mirio! Are you okay?!"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Mirio gulped, evidently in pain from even the light touch. So delicate... it's as if he's turning into a porcelain statue, hollow and brittle and easily broken. Just the lightest tap could crack the shell...
"No, you aren't." Tamaki was at his side in a blur, worry written all over his face. "You're clearly very sick."
"You should sit down. Have a drink, take a break," Nejire fussed. There was a sort of guilt in her voice; she feels bad for hurting Mirio, causing this.
"Fine, fine." Mirio walked over to where Tsuyu was and sat down on the bench. His legs are shaky. How bad does it hurt? I wonder. Is it like a fire in your stomach, or is it a knife in your gut? Or is the pain everywhere, everywhere, like the people around me?
He wiped away sweat from his forehead, before taking a glug from his water bottle. Tamaki and Nejire settled on either side of him; Tsuyu was on the other side of Nejire. "You've clearly gotten worse," the Swimmer observed. "Nejire. Have you noticed any of the other sick people getting like this?"
"No," Nejire said, slightly puzzled. "I don't get it... what type of illness even is this? Mirio? You have any ideas?" She turned to the blonde. He'd gone blank, his eyes wide and unseeing, staring dead ahead. He's shaking.
"Mirio? Are you... okay?" Tamaki's voice was small; fearful.
Silence.
Then everything began happening at once.
Mirio began shaking harder. The shaking then turned to spasms, violent spasms that caused him to fall to the ground, writhing, his body jerking in stiff, unnatural waves. Nejire cried out alarm, paralyzed on the bench, while Tamaki jumped forward, trying to hold him still to the ground in a weak attempt to get him to not hurt himself in the fit, but to no avail. "N-Nejire! Help me!"
"Ah... okay..!" She snapped out of her frozen state, clearly terrified to the bone. Tsuyu jumped up to try and help as well, although she knew she would likely not be able to do much, considering her tiny stature. The three of them, collectively, could not even begin to control the fitful boy.
Suddenly, Mirio convulsed, vomiting blood onto the floor. Tsuyu backed off a little, mesmerized, staring at the hot, sticky pink liquid splattering across the wooden floorboard. Tamaki jumped back as well, since he was on that side of the writhing body, but obviously for different reasons.
His eyes are terrified.
Nejire flinched, but kept her hands firmly on Mirio. "C-Come on! Keep helping me!"
Tsuyu lurched forward to lend a hand, but as her fingers brushed his arm, she realized there was a bump in the skin. She pulled back out of instinct, slightly confused. Hm..? What's this? I've never felt or seen anything like this before...
A muffled cracking sound suddenly came from Mirio's spasming form. A strangled wail broke free from his throat, raw and harsh with agony. Tamaki winced, growing increasingly panicked by the second. Nejire whimpered. On the other hand, Tsuyu was blank; observing.
"...his bones."
"Wh-What?!" Tamaki wailed over Mirio's screams. "What does that mean?!"
"His bones are breaking." Tsuyu cautiously crept forward and placed her fingers upon his forearm again, gently rubbing the bump as the owner of said arm continued to writhe in pain. "This is real, I think. The bone here has broken. The end of one half is jutting up."
"U-Uugghrr..." Nejire made a rather ill noise. "Wh... Why is this happening..?" She was trying her best to restrain Mirio, but from the puddle of blood to his breaking bones to his fearfully manic eyes, even she was becoming deterred.
"I don't understand..." Tamaki was looking pale. His expression nearly matched Mirio's; scared and wild. He was holding the blonde's hand with his own right while the rest of his upper body was used to attempt to hold him down. "How..?"
The three of them could only try to control Mirio while his body continued to spasm. His bones kept snapping; Tsuyu could practically hear it, feel it, see it, predict it when Mirio's screams heightened in intensity. He vomited blood again; this time, Tsuyu didn't move when it splattered across her hands, arms, and thighs, hot and sickly, scented of rust and acid.
Acid.
It burns like acid.
After what must have been an eternity and a half, the spasms let up. Mirio's eyes were closed; he was still. His own blood was smeared all over his clothes from rolling in it.
He's barely moving. Is he alive? Tsuyu crept back and got up, ignoring the sandpaper-like pink that was swiftly drying over her own skin. She could only stare at Mirio; one minute so wild, so manic, the next so frozen. Like a robot. Turn it on, turn it off. On and off, on and off...
"Ta... Tamaki..."
A soft voice, quieter and weaker than a breeze, than a whisper. It was like the breath of a ghost; haunted. Hollow. Almost dead.
"Mirio! Mirio, what's happening?- Are you o- no, that's a stupid question- Mirio, please hang in there-!" Tamaki's voice was panicked; uncontrolled. He looked like he was on the brink of tears at this point; Tsuyu opted to step back and watch.
"It's fine... I know I'm dying..." Mirio coughed; blood dripped from his lips. His voice rasped. "Please know... everything I've ever done... It's only ever been for everyone's sake..."
"M-Mirio, what do you mean?! You can't die... you can't die on me, not here, not now..!" Tamaki was panicking. Behind him, Nejire was crying, silent, spare for the choked sobs and strangled inhales that escaped her throat.
"Tamaki. Calm down." Mirio moved to reach for his boyfriend's hand, but winced as he attempted to move. Tamaki noticed the gesture and reached out to grip his bloody hand. "Everything I've done for you, to you... I've only wanted to help you... because I care for you, I care for my friends. Try your best, okay? Get everyone out of here... no matter what." He gave him a weak grin; the best he could muster. "And remember that I love you, my sunshine."
"M-Mirio... I..." Tamaki's voice cracked. He broke down before he could reply, a sob strangling any last words he had.
"You too, Nejire," Mirio continued. The bluette lifted her teary eyes to the dying ex-hero. "Don't beat yourself up, please... Protect those that you love." His eyes were sad as he bore a final ghost of a smile, a hollow mirage of joy. "Take care of Tamaki for me, okay? And take care of Tsu."
"O-Oh, Mirio..!" Tears cascaded down Nejire's face as she broke down sobbing again. Tamaki's expression had morphed into one of defeated agony; he was crying, silently, liquid trailing down his face in a steady stream of crystal.
Mirio's eyes closed as he went limp. Tamaki lifted a hand to his eyes to wipe away the tears, only for more to replace them immediately. "D-Dang it..."
The monitor above flickered to life.
"A body has been discovered! After a certain amount of ti-"
The bear's robotic voice suddenly halted, cutting off in a garbled screech.
That's when it all went dark.