Disclaimer: I don't own My Hero Academia; that belongs to Horikoshi. Nor do I own Pokémon; that's GameFreak/Nintendo. I am also not someone who worked on the Fangame Pokémon Reborn. I also have not written and do not own any songs that appear in this fic or work as the title of each of my chapters.
A/N: Hello, Aliahra here. While I have written Pokémon crossovers before, this will be my first BNHA work. New fandom, I hope you enjoy my writing. However, I do have something I need to say to everyone reading my works.
I am not an expert. I have never been in these situations. I don't actually know what some of the things I will be depicting are like. I have real-life commitments and while I do some research, I can never do enough. However, I do want to write this story and all the problematic stuff that comes with it. If you don't enjoy it, feel free to stop reading.
This is for me. I want to write what is a novel-length "book" and write an ending. However, there is a sequel in the works. This entire story, all 32 chapters of it, are planned. I have written 12 chronological chapters and I will be posting them at a rate of once a month - every 8th of the month - until it is finished.
I'm excited and nervous to be posting this. My future A/Ns won't be so long I promise.
WARNING: This story, while it does gloss over details, depicts gore, death, cannibalism, depression, suicide, murder, abuse, manipulation, rape, and toxic relationships.
If any of these things are triggering for you, you do not have to read. If there is anything you read that should be added to this list, please tell me. I don't want to hurt anyone.
In this chapter, there is bloody fighting and drugs, though the latter is never consumed.
I hope you enjoy this chapter and this story!
Chapter 1: You know, the blood that I'm owed is all yours
There was a faint crinkling of plastic as a bag and its contents were handed over.
"It'll be at least a month before I can get you another package. The police are really knuckling down on us. If they figure out where we are…" The dealer told his customer.
There was some frantic nodding. Hair whispered through the air with the force. They were full of jitters, the fabric of their clothes brushing against itself with every jolt. They almost ripped open the package they received before they were physically stopped.
"Oi, not here. Get back to your usual haunt. You're a valued customer but I won't hesitate to cut you off if you threaten us." The addict gulped and managed to calm down a little. "Good, now get out of here. I don't want to see your face no more."
The other one ran away, stuffing the package into the backpack they brought with them. A few alleys over, they stopped in front of her and carefully handed over the package full of drugs to her. The faked jitters were all gone. A breath through the nose confirmed it was a drug but it could not affect her. They ran away at her nod. She stuffed the package into one of her oversized boots. It's needed for her deal later, but she couldn't just leave it like this.
There was another thing she wanted from those drug dealers.
She strode after the dealer. That was the last deal he could have made today as there weren't any more bags of that stuff on his person. It was child's play to follow him. His steps created vibrations through the ground and his clothes rustled as he walked. Through the mere application of her favoured senses, she could follow him two back alleys over and he wouldn't be able to tell. Heightened senses were a pain to deal with, but the rewards were certainly grand.
It took a while. They were cautious enough to make all of their deals many blocks away. She had never been the greatest judge of time or distance, but she knew it was less than an hour. A nearby church only rang its bell once in the time she followed him. This city was certainly strange for having a catholic church in it. She wasn't even aware that religion was alive within this country.
But God would not save these people. Especially not from her.
He finally entered the hideout of his gang. She stayed out and observed. Everyone inside spoke only in code, speaking about how much food they gifted to the homeless, the blankets they distributed and some of the supplies they managed to grant. Although it was such a shame that they couldn't give something to everyone. If only people would donate more. If only people wouldn't be so cruel to the homeless.
She overheard these people a week ago. She didn't suspect them at all. Heck, she entered the building and was given a free meal with the rest of the homeless and she couldn't even smell any drugs. Admittedly her sense of smell was mostly heightened regarding blood, but drugs were such a constant back there before, so necessary at keeping them subdued as they were moved about... it didn't matter now.
She's largely immune to such stuff now. Although in return her stomach aches more frequently than it did before.
These people had seemed so genuine in helping, but it turned out it was all a front. She barely restrained herself from grinding her teeth together. While it was an easy fix for her, there was no one to help her if she chips one or more of them now before a very likely fight. She crouched and put her bare hands on the concrete floor of the alley. Using bare skin was much easier to feel vibrations with.
It's hard to strengthen the ability to feel. You could kind of train the ear and the nose, but your sense of touch wasn't something she's interested in advancing. The pain was something you can feel, and she'd rather not make herself more suspectable to it when she had two other advanced senses she could use instead.
Although she could-. Revulsion rose at the cut off thought. She didn't need to use that ability yet. She'd gathered enough with her other senses.
Still, it would have been useful now. There wasn't much to feel. If she weren't actively trying to find it, she wouldn't have felt anything. They soundproofed parts of the basement, parts that she could only feel the doors of. Doors that she could only feel whenever they were in use.
They were without a doubt the best operation she's had the pleasure of dismantling. She straightened up and discarded her outer robe. Her bare arms prickled, unused to being exposed. She tried to go onwards, but she doubled back and grabbed her robe again anyway.
Fuck, why is she so dependent on the damn thing? It was safer out here. She couldn't exactly sew the woven fabric back together if it got torn. Knowing her luck, it's inevitable this will turn into a battle.
The homeless did frequent the area though, they wouldn't resist a long robe left abandoned. She inwardly swore, she couldn't even trust leaving one article of clothing alone for five minutes, could she?
She slipped the robe back on and the prickling in her arms died down. She hated this. It's just fabric! An article of clothing that could be replaced if ruined. She stole it out of a shop and she could just steal a replacement if she needed another robe.
Except this one was irreplaceable to her apparently. She sighed, defeated by herself.
Striding away to a specific destination, she considered her game plan. While a plan never survives contact with the enemy, going in without one was just plain suicide. And she had no interest in dying, thank you stupid survival instincts. Sometimes, she hates you so, so much.
How to get in. There was a garden nearby, barely a block over from the homeless support centre front. The newly planted trees had loose dirt around their bases. Exceedingly easy to dig through, easier to cover up later too, unlike breaking concrete. She never could fix the stone-like substance perfectly.
Keeping an ear out revealed no one was in the still in-renovation park. It was easy to slip in and then into the accessible earth. Feeling the earth around her, she weaved through the underground obstructions of foundations, pipes, and the initial roots.
Less than half a minute later she's below the floor of the basement. After she positioned herself under something heavy, she exited the ground. Hefting the crate of blankets above her so she could climb out. The crate blocked her sign of entry as she returns it. Hiding her entry for if she decided she wanted to remain stealthy after all.
A hidden door opens on the other side of the basement. She kept an ear on the person as she approached another hidden door she had sensed earlier. The network of crates hid her so effectively she didn't even need to duck.
Striding to the hidden door, she stretched out her senses to identify the layout of the basement and its hidden rooms now that she was within it. The feedback was much clearer inside than it was outside.
Multiple points for exits. Some of them were likely to be emergency exits for when fire rains down upon them or simply for drug runs. The others would be just rooms though, dead ends. Her senses couldn't tell her which were which though. She felt her disgust push something aside in the back of her mind. It wasn't necessary yet.
She should collapse the extra exits, although she'd have to figure out which were which now. Okay, maybe this whole thing would take her around ten minutes. She did not appreciate the forced slowness of her operation. Being alone in enemy territory was grating on her patience.
Still, luck was on her side with the first door. A good supply and a heavy scent of their main drug were within the room. The drug she already had stuffed in her boot. She grabbed an extra package, just in case, and marked the door in her memory.
There were eight other doors, three of which were exits. The remaining five held drugs, with two holding a different, less popular, type each. She grabbed a package of each type just in case. Now, she had everything she needs. Time to blow this joint.
She felt someone laughing at her. Honestly, she didn't know why. It stopped her for a few seconds as she tried to figure it out before she resolved to ignore it. It didn't matter right now.
It turned out to be fortunate that she had stopped as the man she followed earlier came down and accidentally revealed another door. He walked out not long after, unbothered. This door was slightly different, however.
Approaching the door, she felt for it. There were no vibrations to help her. Which meant that it was necessary now.
She breathed in through her teeth as she tuned into the surrounding earth it formed a very fuzzy picture in her head. Fucking useless to her. Training her goddamn geomancy sensing was something she'd have to do after this was over. Her distaste for the origin of the shitass ability should not weaken her as she's now realising it had.
She let a breath out through her teeth. The swearing had picked her mood up a little. Now she had to focus again.
Unlike the other hidden rooms whose security lied in their stealth, this one had both stealth and an actual lock. Whatever was in it was more precious than their product.
It was empty in the basement at the moment, but any of the people above could also have heightened senses. Her geomancy sense couldn't give her the image she needed to know if it was trapped or not. She'd have to make some noise to get her vibrations.
Wincing, she knocked on the wall, the sound echoed in the empty basement. No one came down to check. She didn't let out an actual sigh of relief, but she certainly wished she could and did so internally. The knock did its job, however. Sound travels better through solid objects, and the faint metal ring certainly revealed that it was a giant metal box that hid on the other side of this wall.
It was big, roughly the size of a room to not draw too much attention. It wasn't lead though. While she doesn't have x-ray vision, a blank space would have alerted those who did have it to something being there. There weren't any traps she could detect from the echolocation technique.
Unfortunately, while she has a history in both breaking-out-or-in of places, she has never learnt how to pick locks. She's more liable to break the pick in her hands than in the lock. It's a mild shame, she could have used her hearing to help. However, she had no idea how locks work. It's not as though it would be taught in school, not that she ever went to a proper one.
Still, she's not too aggravated about it. Feeling for the edge, she found the hidden groove. Digging her fingers into the sides of the door, she ripped it off its hinges. There's an almighty screech from the metal bending and being ripped apart. It unsurprisingly caused a commotion upstairs. Someone tried to enter the basement. She flung the metal door at them. It slammed into them, instantly knocking them out and momentarily blocking the way as it lodged into the staircase.
She entered the last room and reached out for its contents. Piles and piles of money. Damn, they had been busy. Liars they might be, she could respect the skills they had at their trade. If they hadn't had what she wanted and targeted one of the kids that comes and hides in her abode on occasion, she mightn't have had to have done this.
Unfortunately for them, they were the only dealers left in this city. Honestly, if they and the others had just left kids out of their target demographic, she wouldn't be eliminating them like she did all the others. Adults could make their own mistakes, but kids were often idiots and shouldn't have to deal with people taking advantage of that.
Although she won't deny it. This whole thing was giving her a bit of a rush. The danger was calming, familiar. There weren't many things that had picked up her mood recently.
It seemed her robe was getting used for something, although she hoped it's not going to get damaged from this job. She removed it, ignoring the prickling of her bare arms again, and piled as much of the money she could within it before wrapping it up with its sleeves and slipping it down the back of her makeshift shirt. It sat there, unable to drop out because of the sash she kept wrapped around her ill-fitting wrap shirt. It wasn't originally designed to be a shirt, but it was all she had.
Maybe she could buy some actual fitting clothes now with this money. Wasn't that a funny thought? It's not like she knew how to spend it.
The metal door was shoved out of its new place, unblocking the stairs. It landed with a crash. And people crowd in. A person on the street above called in the police. Oh, good. Honestly, she was expecting them to do nothing while waiting for a hero to come and inspect the commotion. This could be fun.
She pulled out the just-in-case drugs and cut small slices into each of them. Then she threw them at the people who came down to investigate what's going on with their products. When they made contact, they exploded into clouds of dust.
There were quite a few swears as they realised what had just covered them and some of the basement with. One straight up passed out, a true lightweight but for powdered drugs.
A grin split her face. Good luck cleaning that up before the police arrive. Someone finally got to the entrance of their vault. She rushed into them, full speed, and sends them smashing through some crates and into the wall on the opposite side of the large open plan storage room. By open plan, she means a lack of actual walls. The stacked crates topple and break easier than the alternative.
The wall collapsed to reveal one of their drug stockpiles. Oh, that's where the third one was again.
More people swore. A bullet was fired, and she dived into the ground. She transformed into her other form, the one that grants her so many beneficial side effects, like her advanced senses, even in her human form. It was a blessing she couldn't see herself. The form would have brought up too many bad memories otherwise. At least she was already used to the form.
Her current set of makeshift clothes rip though and while the robe is spared via the virtue of not being worn, it was still dropped and settled on the freshly disturbed ground.
She marked its place in her mind twice, as now she's going to need that robe and its contents later. Tunnelling through the ground she passed the three exits and demolished their structural integrity. The few people that had gone that way first were stopped as they caved in. Leaving them all trapped.
There's a call to leave through the front door and she emerged from the ground between them and their exit. She doubted it was pleasant for the people she shallowly dug under or the person she crashed into after leaving the ground. It's a good thing the lights were out, the wiring cut beneath the surface. She did not need anyone commenting on her appearance.
Although, at the very least, she wasn't hindered by the darkness.
There's a scream from one person and a separate person tried to punch her. Their skin tore on contact with her own and the scent of living blood spilled into the air. The damage they tried to deal inconsequential compared to the unintentional recoil. She spun, her tail slamming into her attacker and launching them into the wall. A growl rose in her throat, she glared at the crowd, and about twelve people remain conscious though less than half were still free to move.
Paralysis through fear was useful to weed out the boring, weak-willed ones. It also helps to cut down the numbers a little. She was on a time crunch after all.
Police sirens cried into the air and one person dropped to their knees, salty tears rolling down their cheeks. That one knew, so did some of the others. One person swore and activated their quirk. The suction of a vacuum mouth started to draw things in. It's just strong enough to lift the lighter debris into the air. She ducked and lanced out with her two claws.
They dropped, the muscles in their legs unable to support them while severed. Another person strikes out with extended fingernails like claws. She closed her eyelids, and the nails get filed down on sandpaper skin. There's a three-point superhero landing on the surface. Time to go.
She sunk easily into the earth, her mild geo-kinesis only assisting as she brute-forced her way through earth and foundations in her haste. Her robe and luckily her boots apparently are snatched up where they remain intact. Less than a minute later, she rose as a human out of the ground in another suburb. Another park.
The robe was slipped on before anyone notices her public indecency and the boots acted as pockets for all the cash that fell out. She replaced the disturbed grass and lay back on it. The sun filtered through the leaves to leave warm patches on her skin that her robe didn't cover.
A man approached her not long after she arrived. His footsteps were familiar. She removed the last surviving package of drugs and showed it off to him. He tried to rip it out of her hand, but he didn't succeed. It took him a while to realise his inability, but he did, and she finally opened her eyes to glare at him for even trying to attempt it. There's the scent of urine as he pissed his pants.
She didn't get how some people find that enjoyable. The scent was an affront to her and someone cowering when they realised how weak they are compared to you was just annoying. She'd rather face a cornered rat. At least they tried to keep their dignity till the end, unafraid to bite back. If he didn't have something she needed, she would have left already.
He stuttered an apology. She just raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He finally stopped being ridiculous and brought out the files he promised her. He read it all out, she didn't understand a piece of the jargon, the limited education she got included nothing of legalities, but she had to trust him anyway.
It was a shitty situation, but she had to. If she could fucking get away without doing so, she would in a bloody heartbeat. Fear's never a good way to build trust, and it sucked that it was her only route to getting what she needed.
He finally told her where she needed to sign, and she cut open her thumb on her teeth. Spreading the blood over her left ring finger she smeared her bloody fingerprint in place of a signature. She's illiterate and cannot write for a good reason, one of the files included should have made it so a fingerprint and her own blood were more than enough to make up for it.
She wasn't sure it'll work, but it was all she can do. Fuck she hated this.
She's given the files to keep, and the drugs were finally handed over.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Kaida Saori-san." He retreated as fast as he could which was still pathetically slow to her.
It was a shame she couldn't read. Japanese names are interesting in how they're written apparently. Kiefer could go on for hours about how names could be written and mean different things depending on different characters. She almost asked the man to make her last name Yamaguchi, with the characters for Mountain and Mouth in honour of her reliable older brother. She just wasn't sure she was remembering his written Japanese lessons well enough.
Maybe she should find a way to make sure he knows she's alive and alright. But if she did then they'd find her too, wouldn't they? She groaned but her typical resentment and bitter guilt don't rise up. Huh, has she finally upgraded to not giving a crap?
The answer to that was a 'no' as the familiar bitterness and overwhelming guilt did begin to rise. Alright, she's improving, she wasn't better but she's improving. She quickly turned her mind to another topic, trying to drown the feelings out. She tried to centre herself physically, taking a deep breath, and just focusing on the sun-warmed patches on her skin. If there's one thing she didn't like dealing with, it's those fucking emotions and the goddamn situation they came from.
She was so fucking tired of that crap.
She stayed for another few minutes before heading to her abode. Her boots full of cash were held to her chest instead of on her feet. Which she doesn't mind. It let her start practising her geo-sensing now, after all. Although it wasn't very exciting. The disgust that came with it didn't exactly disappear after she resolved to use the ability now.
While she wandered back home, the newscasters were reporting on the arrest of the drug ring she just busted from several directions. She must be in a home suburb. Humming to herself, taking it slow with no need to rush, she considered her new name.
Kaida Saori.
She wondered what it meant. How strange would it be to ask someone to tell her what her own name was supposed to mean? After all, her old name was straightforward in its meaning. Although it came with a hidden meaning in its inspiration. Her new Japanese name wasn't as easy for her to decipher.
She shrugged it off and turned the humming into singing under her breath. Calamity was always going to be her true name, even if she couldn't go by it anymore. Nothing could change that.
"And you once said I wish you dead you sinner.
I'll never be more than a wolf at your door for dinner.
And if I see you 'round like a ghost in my town you liar.
I'll leave with your head oh I'll leave you for dead, sire."
Coming up next: I can do it, I'll get through it
Yes, every chapter will end with the chorus of the chapter's title song. I like music and music means a lot to the characters.
Calamity got her name from "Calamity" Jane, however, I don't know much about this woman. It's just when I was looking at names for my newly caught Gible, that one stood out.
The song of the chapter was The Wolf, Phidel.