Shinsou wasn't sure what he was doing.
He knew that he didn't particularly enjoy cutting through this section of the city, nor did he like making said trip at night. It was a rundown portion of the inner-city, a series of blocks that were dirty and smelled perpetually of stale booze, piss and cigarette smoke. Neon signs flickered meekly at disheveled storefronts, many of which had had their windows shattered so often that they now only had boards of plywood nailed down where glass should have been.
After dark, the area was known to be rather unsafe. While Musutafu wasn't exactly rife with crime, it also wasn't nonexistent. In places like this, especially, where the pro-hero patrols tended to be thin and infrequent out of a general distaste, crime was significantly more common. Any territorial scuffles tended to be violent but short—certainly nothing significant enough to prompt the authorities to respond out here—but were nonetheless devastating.
Even so, Shinsou had enough confidence in his own abilities to take this shortcut unscathed. Cutting through the area was the quickest route home, and, while he tended to avoid it when he could, he had risked it enough times before that he had almost become desensitized to its dangers.
Maybe that's why he hadn't given it a second thought when he watched the woman stray into a side-alley. Maybe he had been subconsciously ignoring the very real dangers she could face. Maybe he just hadn't been thinking at all. He had been kept out late and the only thing on his mind at the time had been to get home as quickly as possible and squeeze in what little sleep he'd be able to manage.
But those were just excuses. Whatever the reason, his chance to warn her had passed, and it was only when he noticed the stocky, heavyset man surreptitiously slide after her that any sense of wrongness finally pierced through the haze of fatigue.
He looked around desperately. With the exception of a handful of layabouts, the street was barren. No police and certainly no heroes. No one to call for help. He cursed softly to himself. He should've been more aware, or at least called out to her, then this whole mess could've been avoided. It was too late for regrets now; though, and he was the only one who could act. How could he expect to become a hero if he couldn't help someone right in front of him? Forcing the anxious fluttering in his stomach down, he followed.
Warily, he crossed the road and stepped into the alley only to find that the hulking silhouette had already disappeared somewhere amidst the labyrinth of backstreets and dead ends. Following the path, Shinsou made it up to the first intersection before realizing that he had no idea which way to go. If it wasn't so dark, he might be able to find some clues, but there were no street lamps. The only sources of light here were the feeble glows of the upper-story windows.
"What's the problem, girly? I ain't gonna hurt ya. Why don't we spend some quality time together?"
Shinsou whipped his head at the distant sound. It echoed faintly, the narrow passages and tall buildings causing noise to refract in dizzying arrays, making tracing any single source a hopeless endeavor. He grit his teeth and picked the direction that seemed most likely to be correct and sprinted.
"You'd best do as I say, I'd hate to have to be rough with a pretty lady."
"Hey!" Shinsou yelled as he ran, his voice similarly bouncing about, the sounds focusing then dispersing at the turns and intersections. "Hey, you sick fatty! What's the matter, scared? Answer me!"
He just needed a response—even just a basic acknowledgement—and his quirk would buy him all the time he'd need, but he was met with silence. The voice of the man did not rise again.
Slowing to a halt, he strained his ears to discern anything beyond the pounding of his own heart. The low murmur of the city's nightlife droned softly in from the main roads. The quiet skitterings of some scavenging creature rattled through trash and debris. The soft breeze and—
A sudden, loud bang shattered the silence, a sharp, staccato crack that echoed with an awful finality, undeniably from somewhere directly ahead.
He sprinted, his footsteps falling faster and faster until he finally burst out into an open space—a small courtyard of brick and pavement and asphalt, only slightly wider than the alley he had just left—and immediately stumbled to a halt.
The moon shone cleanly here, peeking in from a gap in the buildings, affording Shinsou just enough light to make out the sickening scene in front of him. He reeled, nearly tripping over his own feet as he backpedaled in a panic, his eyes flicked wildly between the walls and ground, his mind struggling dumbly to comprehend the macabre painting upon them, as if some nightmare artist had splashed the contents of his palette with wild abandon.
Blood. Blood everywhere. Entrails, too, as well as some viscous, gray mush and shards of bone that shone starkly white against all the red. It covered everything—the ground, the walls, steel and stone alike had been drenched in a sheen of thick, cold ichor. The strokes fell wildly in sharp, harsh streaks, as if the body's contents had been expelled with great violence. Black asphalt glistened sickly, and the cloying scent of copper filled his nostrils. He shuddered, the taste of salt coating his tongue as the contents of his stomach threatened to rush up his gullet.
A scene out of hell, and in the middle of it all, the woman stood, posture perfectly straight, one arm curled neatly behind her, the other outstretched, index finger and thumb pointing at the body, mimicking a gun.
Rather, she was pointing at half of the body.
The victim—the pulpy, brutish-looking man — had been neatly perforated, the edges of the wound unnervingly clean. His upper body lay several feet away, likely flung by the force of whatever the woman had done, its pudgy mass slowly deflating on the asphalt, while the lower half lay sprawled at her feet. A large, circular hole seemed to be the cause of the sudden, messy divorce, as if he had been put through a gigantic hole-punch.
"Wh-what the hell is this," Shinsou mumbled numbly, subconsciously taking a half-step back.
Though he had spoken quietly, the woman's gaze shifted, her head tilting curiously, a scarlet lock brushing softly against her cheek. Her hand fell, calmly adjusting her tie and smoothing her dress-shirt before joining its partner behind her back and clasping professionally in place. Her nose twitched as she turned, piercing, golden eyes staring straight through him and pinning him in place.
"Oh, dear." The words held no concern, no fear nor anger. They were flat, uninflected, as if an offhand comment on the weather. "This is rather incriminating, isn't it. I don't suppose you would believe me if I said that I found him like this?"
His eyes narrowed. She had responded, and his quirk activated, almost instinctively. "G-get down on your knees and put your hands on your head."
Immediately, her body moved to comply, shifting with a graceful ease despite being under his thrall. If she was shocked or dismayed, the emotion never shattered her mask of pleasant neutrality. Her stare remained unbroken, her calm, eerie smile unperturbed.
He pulled out his phone to call for help, his hands trembling so violently that he nearly dropped it. His quirk would keep her bound for as long as he needed, but he was in no way equipped to handle anything beyond that. He needed a pro-hero, the police, anyone. He swore quietly, fingers fumbling in a panic against the touchpad.
"What's your name?"
He stilled, icy tendrils curling about his heart and squeezing until his breaths came out in short, sharp bursts. Her voice had laid a yoke upon his shoulders, an oppressive burden that demanded naught but absolute obedience. His head tilted forward, eyes rising to meet that unwavering, hypnotic gaze.
He locked eyes with an angel. She could only be an angel, distant and cold and far beyond the reach of normal people. Inhuman. Monstrous. Something beautiful and awful, and he was nothing but a small insignificance at her feet. He needed to get away, to remove himself from the presence of this thing as quickly as possible.
Yet still he swayed, his body lurching forward as if to pull him closer to this woman whose voice rang like choral hymns. Something in those notes compelled him—not in the way his own quirk would, but in a more basic, primal sense. He wanted to obey, the desire welling up like an uncontrollable font from within, warm and endearing.
"...Hitoshi." The word escaped him before he had even registered his lips moving. Not his surname. He wanted her to call him by his given name.
The unnerving smile stretched minutely, and mesmeric gold stared deeply into his eyes. A hand came up to caress his cheek, soft, warm and he subconsciously leaned into it. When had she broken free?
"Well then, Hitoshi. This is an order..."
"—nsou. Shinsou!"
A hand shook his shoulder and he started, abruptly torn from his fugue. He peered around dumbly, realizing that he was standing at the gate of the school. Turning his head, he saw that the hand belonged to one of his classmates.
"Mn, what do you want, Monoma?" He rubbed his eyes tiredly with the back of his hand, his limbs sluggish and heavy. He was no stranger to fatigue—sleep was a fickle companion more often than not—but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to it this time.
"Don't give me that, do you know how many times I called out to you?" Monoma said. "What're you doing spacing out so early in the morning?"
He looked up. The sky was blue. The sun shone. He frowned. Something hovered at the edges of his memory, nebulous and unclear, but when he tried to catch it, it slipped from his grasp, fading like breath on a mirror.
"It's morning."
"Uh…yeah. Good morning. What's up with you today?"
Of course it was morning. Why had he thought otherwise? He shook his head slightly, as if the motion would disperse the fog that had blanketed his mind. A flutter of light red waved in his periphery and he jerked wildly, turning with a violence that even he was surprised by.
The blonde beside him yelped, surprised by the suddenness. "Seriously! What's up?"
It was just a pink-haired student. He sighed, disappointed for some odd reason, and shook his head.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
Fall is retail hell. Every year I tell myself I'll find a better job before the next Black Friday and every year I find myself stuck in the same place. Shit sucks.
I can manage shorts like this on occasion, but I've not got time for anything longer for the next month or two. Next chapter for my RWBYxHonkai fic is still in the works but it'll still be quite a bit longer. Time and life are just being sort of a pain.
