_/ - \_


The real folk blues - Part 2


Giran made a sharp turn into a secluded side street of busy Kabukichou, the infamous red-light district of Shinjuku, still going strong well over a century after the turn of the millennium. He had been walking leisurely, enjoying the sights of neon lights and sharply - at times, scantily - dressed women, and appreciating the smell of perfume and delicious street food. Seeing the shady individuals gathered, laughing, here and there, the entrances of illegal casinos and legal, but dubiously operated, night clubs, this was a neighborhood he could truly say felt like home.

Just a couple of minutes later, he came upon the wooden door to "The Dragon's Likeness", a grill bar notorious for its past as a hub for criminal activity, mainly for gatherings of Yakuza. Nowadays, it was now simply a humble, law-abiding commerce in a society where the righteousness of heroes ran rampant. Or so it would seem, for reputation can be a blessing just as much as a curse, and something that in most cases is nearly impossible to completely shake off. Like so, the iconic place still housed within its walls all manner of shady dealings and meetings, which didn't bother the owners as long as they didn't get unwittingly tangled in anyone else's mess.

Getting inside, the broker was welcomed by a kimono and make-up wearing, well-mannered young hostess. She stepped out from behind her pulpit and bowed deeply. "Good evening, Okuta-sama. It has been a while since your last visit. How have you been? Brilliant, I would hope?" she asked in a pleasant, low tone of voice.

He nodded his head at her, smiling. "I've been very well. Thanks for asking, Kyuuna-chan. How about you?"

She smiled reservedly. "Oh, it would be unbecoming of me to bother you with talks of my life, Okuta-sama." She motioned with a hand towards a wooden sliding door, beckoning him. "If you follow me, it will be my pleasure to show you to your private room. Your friend is waiting for your arrival."

"Excellent. Well, let's not keep him waiting."

After swiftly crossing through the middle of the bar's public, common area, filled with people, smoke and soft music, Kyuuna led him through several corridors indistinct from each other. Laughter, shouting, and the clinking of glass cups emanated from beyond the many identical closed doors that made up the interior of the building. Giran, as well acquainted as he was with the place from the many times he'd dropped by, had to admit to himself that he most likely would get lost without her help.

Soon enough they had reached their target. Kyuuna opened the sliding doors wide and bowed once more to Giran. "A waitress will be here shortly to take your orders, Okuta-sama."

"That'd be great, Kyuuna-chan. I thank you again."

As soon as he had put his whole body inside the private room, the doors shut quietly behind him. Looking up, Giran saw his so-called "friend" seated on the other side of the low table smoking a cigarette, an empty glass sitting idly in front of him. The man's face was clouded by shadow, him having inclined away from the light of the floor-facing lamp hanging above the room.

"Hey, Okuta. Haven't seen you in a good bit. Was beginning to think you wouldn't show up."

"Hah! And miss the opportunity to get stuffed with great beer and the best yakiniku in the country? Not in a million years."

The shadowed man pointed at the cushion opposite to him. "Please, make yourself at home."

"You don't have to ask me twice, friend." Making himself comfortable, Giran started to rummage his purple blazer's pocket to fish for his own pack of cigarettes. "So, why an invitation now, from out of nowhere? Somehow, I have the inkling you're not interested in just catching up. Or am I wrong… detective?"

The other man finally came under the yellow light, revealing the wild, short black hair, unkempt stubble and sunken, steely-gray eyes that belonged to none other than Ayashi Niijima. He extended the hand that held his own lit up lighter to offer it to Giran, who gracefully made good use of the flame, taking long drags out of his cigarette.

Before Niijima could get started with his meeting with Giran, they were interrupted by a waitress, who left as discreetly and as swiftly as she had appeared after writing down their orders. Having overcome the short interruption, Ayashi spoke up.

"I've asked you to come here because I need to confirm something and to set some records straight."

"Huh, sounds important," Giran mockingly said, "We haven't really met like this since you've asked for information on the widespread use of Trigger. I hope I won't need to remind you that I never dealt with the thing."

"It's not drug related, though thank you for your input." Ayashi squinted his eyes. "I'll just get right to the heart of it: Okuta, what do you know of the incident in Kamino, two years and some change ago?"

Giran was inspecting his nails, disinterested. "You'll have to refresh my memory, Niijima. A lot has happened since then, you know, and it's hard to keep track of everything when a successful businessman such as myself already has so much on his plate."

Ayashi smirked. Getting sensitive, or even useful information from Giran had never been easy, and that decidedly hadn't changed in the slightest. Like always, the broker would play with his cards close to his chest. Giran and his sense of loyalty to his customers; Ayashi acknowledged that he could respect that, as grating and unhelpful as it was. Yet, he hadn't come here to make small talk and leave empty-handed.

"Well, as a matter of fact, there was a large meeting of some kind with the then most influential mobsters and brokers this side of Tokyo, right at Outlander Club."

"Must've been a big event."

"No doubt. But, what those crime lords were discussing, I could not say. Any suggestions?"

"Oh, no, haven't got a clue." Giran adjusted the collar of his shirt and smiled innocently, like someone about to spin a half-truth. "Although, if I were to venture a guess, they were probably there to negotiate a ceasefire, as turf wars are somewhat common."

"You mean, they used to be common. The advent of All Might's era put a damper in that sort of thing."

"Well, that man's death after his grand showdown with the no. 01 Hero left a lot of areas up for grabs. And you know just how greedy men like me can get when the opportunity arises."

Giran had been trying to contain his laughter while talking, earning a non-amused look from Ayashi. It was patently obvious that there was something the broker was leaving vague on purpose.

Steely-gray eyes squinted, Ayashi's brows furrowing in tandem. "Sure. Regardless, that night in Kamino ended in bloodshed, and many, if not all of the participants were later found dead, their bodies laying around inside and nearby one of the more secluded rooms of the clubhouse. To no one's surprise, the place has been closed off since then."

Giran sighed. "It's a real shame. It was a nice little joint to wind down after a long day."

Ayashi chortled derisively. "I'm sure it was. As to why they were killed…?"

"Not exactly unheard of," Giran commented cooly, "Why are you so interested in that? I thought you had bigger fish to fry than simply digging up years old corpses."

"You're right, criminals killing each other isn't anything new. But, it just so happens that among the bodies discovered, two of them belonged not to the usual suspects, but to a couple of Vigilantes."

Giran watched as Ayashi slid his phone out of his pocket. The detective rummaged through the downloaded files and pulled up two pictures, extracted from the profiles taken by Tsukauchi that one time he combed through the Hero Commission's archives. One photo was of a blonde girl with exquisite golden eyes and freckles on her cheeks; the other, of a black-haired girl with shiny, entrancing purple irises.

He showed his phone's screen to Giran, asking, "Have you heard of Miru Sougan, aka Eagle Eye, and Asuka Tsutsumi, aka Lady Breda?"

Giran looked closely, pretending to be studying the images. Of course he knew them, Toga had made sure to slay them as gruesomely as she could. He shuddered involuntarily just from remembering that. However, he was beginning to see Toga as something of a protégé of his, so he had a duty to protect her from prosecution. Of course, she was his client once, so he would guard her interests and secrets in any case.

He leaned back, keeping a measured expression. Then, like a shot had been fired, something clicked inside his mind. He had just made a connection between those names and Ayashi's inquiry, and readied the perfect countermeasure against the detective. If he got stressed, it made Giran's job all the easier. Smirking dangerously, Giran got Niijima on edge.

"Yes, those names do ring a bell," the broker began, "Particularly that of Lady Breda. That surname is too rare and too notorious for it to be a mere coincidence."

"Okuta..." Ayashi warned.

Giran, naturally, ignored the dirty look directed at him. "I always assumed Breda was just a copycat, trying to take advantage of a household name in order to bring fame to herself. But it's obvious now that their quirks were much too similar... So she had a sister? By the looks of it, younger too."

Ayashi clicked his tongue, most displeased at Giran's tone. "Watch your mouth, Okuta. That is not relevant to this case."

"Hah! You honestly thought I wouldn't put two and two together? How naive, Niijima. Of all people, why bring her up to me? The only other person alive that knows of your involvement with Nagant."

Ayashi scowled. "Because as loath as I am to admit it, you're the best informant around. Nagant…" His face was rapidly tinted blood-red. "She has nothing to do with this."

"Oh, she doesn't? Weird, considering that you just asked me about her younger sister, who was seemingly killed in cold blood. Oh! And we can't forget that Asuka acted as a Vigilante! Now isn't that something?" Giran placed one hand over his temple trying to hide his face, though his shaking shoulders showed just how hilarious he found the whole situation. "What a family! One sister goes crazy, shoots the Hero Commission President and gets sent to rot in Tartarus, while the other goes rogue and is discarded like a common thug. What an end to Kaina and Asuka Tsutsumi."

Ayashi slammed a closed fist on the wooden table, making the dinner appliances jump in place. "Keep their names out of your filthy mouth!" he furiously demanded, shutting a chuckling Giran up.

The waitress, with almost comical timing, chose that exact moment to show back up, prompting the two men to stay quiet, albeit glaring heatedly at one another. She somehow balanced with absolute grace a ridiculously oversized tray, and set it right beside the table. One by one, she filled the table with appetizers, napkins, chopsticks, newly-filled glasses of beer, and a bucket of ice with many bottles inside it.

Last, but far from least, she picked up a metal plate that held seasoned meat, strategically positioning it at an equal distance to both men. Then, producing a barbecue lighter from seemingly thin air, she fired up the grill that protruded from the center of the table, and turned on the exhaust vent. She bowed as she left, not once making any indication that she might have heard or witnessed anything.

Left alone, the men stared evenly at each other. Seeking to cut through the tension hanging in the air, Giran scoffed, although much more subdued after Ayashi's outburst and another interruption. "How precious of you, Niijima, to defend their honor even now," he said, "All these years down the line, and yet you're still in love with Nagant."

Needless to say, Niijima was not happy at the reminder. "You know just as well as I do that Kaina was used by the Hero Commission! She–..." Niijima hurriedly used a sleeve to rub his welling eyes. "I wanted to help her, I asked her to wait for a bit longer, so we could gather enough evidence. The Commission holds too much power, and would easily crush her if it came to it… but that's exactly what went on anyway. I failed her. The guilt that ate away at her must have been too much to bear and I couldn't support her, so I never had enough time."

Glimpses of another life began assaulting Ayashi's senses relentlessly. 'Fuck, did I suppress all these memories?' he thought in anguish. A scene of a smiling Kaina, over a candle-lit dinner; their naked bodies tangled under the sheets of some unremarkable hotel; him trying to comfort her, as she desperately washed her hands to try and wipe them clean of blood that was not there…

He felt dizzy and nauseated, and Ayashi shut his eyelids and placed his hands with open palms over the floor to control the urge to collapse. He breathed deeply.

Giran awkwardly scratched the back of his head, unsure if he should say something. He had not expected all that sincerity from the man that hid his pain under thick layers of hot temper and sarcasm. In the end, he didn't have to. Ayashi found it in himself to stutter a few choice words, even now, racked with guilt.

"But, when it came to it, I fled like a coward. When I read the note she left for me, I despaired, and neglected my job. I swore to take the Commission down, no matter if it was the last thing I would do, but I just ran." Ayashi's hands now came up to grasp onto his hair in desolation. "I didn't even keep a close eye on Asuka. If I had, maybe I could have prevented her death… I knew that she began acting as a Vigilante, but only found out that she died as a consequence because a friend discovered it by chance. I believed she was laying low… I am a terrible joke of a detective."

Giran coughed on a closed fist, to get a word in. "I had no idea you knew Asuka personally," he tentatively commented.

Ayashi's eyes looked intently at the broker, not really seeing him, instead watching beyond, at a past with many regrets. "I saw Asuka once or twice. Kaina and I, we couldn't risk anyone finding out about our relationship, so I kept my distance… Maybe too much. I doubt Asuka would even remember me." Ayashi groaned. "We didn't have a connection, but she was still Kaina's sister and I should have done my best to protect her, but I was too much of a spineless coward… I didn't have the guts to face her after Kaina was arrested."

Only the heat of burning gas and an awkward quietness remained as Niijima ended the tale of his tragedy. Giran was not equipped to deal with… whatever it was that Niijima was going through. As such, having nothing else to do, he broke one pair of chopsticks and began spreading the slices of seasoned meat over the grill. In time, the smell of cooking enticed Niijima to join in. Cracking open bottles as they regularly emptied their glasses, detective and broker ate and drank in silence for a long while.

Without warning, Ayashi chuckled in between bites of yakiniku. Giran chortled as well, the bizarre situation somehow leaving him receptive to it, but not without asking, "What's funny?"

Ayashi laughed humorlessly. "Why the fuck am I even talking about her to you? My closest friend in the force doesn't have a clue about any of this…"

"Simple: because you can't go running your mouth to any of your friends and stand the chance of getting sent to prison yourself. You know the Commission will not have second thoughts over destroying your life if they catch wind of your dissent –" Giran leaned closely, supporting himself on the table with one elbow. "– like they did to Nagant."

"Tch, they're still out of my grasp." He glowered at Giran. "Not that you are of any help."

"No, no, no, my dear Niijima," Giran said as he wiggled a finger in front of him for emphasis, "We're not doing this. Whatever guilt you feel over Nagant's fall from grace is not my problem, so don't try to put any burden over my shoulders."

"I just mean that our deal could have flourished much more."

It was Giran's turn to hit something in irritation, as he slammed his chopsticks on a plate. "Niijima, do you honestly think that if I had dirt on the Hero Commission, I wouldn't have come forward with it already?" he said, sounding genuinely offended, "If it were up to me, you would have gotten your revenge on them years ago, especially given that their decline would greatly benefit me as well."

Ayashi raised one eyebrow. "Sure, that makes sense. But you mentioned, a long time ago, that Kaina had reached some sort of agreement with Soken, yet nothing came of it."

Giran grimaced, looking fed up. "You are very much aware that Soken's… demise… came at a most inconvenient moment." Giran inadvertently averted his gaze, but immediately corrected it once he caught his blunder. "I never had the chance to talk to him before that, and it's not like we were allied in the first place," he said in an attempt to save face.

Ayashi was looking at him with a sideways glance, sipping from his glass. "Would you look at that! And we're back to the massacre inside Kamino's clubhouse. Soken was amongst the bodies. Your turf, though I've heard that you've been spending most of your time recently in Musutafu."

This time, Giran made sure to hold Ayashi's gaze, both men measuring each other. "Spying on me, Niijima?" Ayashi grinned at him, and Giran smiled back.

"I stand by the tried and true adage: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."

"Wow, I wasn't aware that I had been promoted from 'informant' to 'enemy'. Maybe I should keep that development in mind for friendly reunions in the future."

"Maybe you should."

Both men laughed reservedly, their gazes even and studious, one taking a gander at the other closely.

"Well, sometimes travel is required in order to keep one's shop afloat and relevant. I'm sure you understand," Giran spoke in a faked amicable tone.

Ayashi nodded. "Say, Giran, just a little, unpretentious question," he said while playing with a slice of meat, poking at it with his chopsticks, "You wouldn't happen to have any information on the people going missing, have you?"

"Why would I?" Giran answered with a question, gauging for Ayashi's intentions.

"Oh, just a wild thought. You know how it is with us detectives, always seeing conspiracies where there might not be any." He devoured a whole piece of barbecue. "I just find it funny," he said between bites, "that the kidnappings lately seem to be happening mostly in Musutafu, when once they were seemingly well distributed in the whole prefecture."

In the middle of a sip, Giran gently lowered his glass to challenge Niijima's not so subtly veiled accusation. "You say 'kidnappings', as if you're certain. Who knows, maybe these people are being abducted by aliens."

"Hah, with all we know, they might as well. It's just extremely convenient that the 'abductions'," Ayashi said, making quotation marks with his fingers, "intensified once you started your little trips. And right around the same time frame that the suspect I'm searching for also went to Musutafu! Now isn't that exquisite?"

Yet another cigarette was lit, and Giran took one extra-long drag before replying. "That's the kind of argument that would be dismissed by a prosecutor as circumstantial evidence. I assume you have something to back it up?"

"Don't worry, friend, these are only theories which, of course, can be disproven. Though a good prosecutor would definitely be able to spin a phenomenally enthralling spiel to a judge."

"I thank you for the lesson in criminal proceedings." Giran's voice dripped with scorn. "What's your angle here, Niijima? What net gain could you possibly get from pissing me off?"

Ayashi's stare pierced Giran's face for some time, as he tried to perceive any minutiae that might be of use. Finding nothing new in the broker's practiced neutral expression, he moved on, "That's up to you, Okuta. Anyways, back to why I called you here: many of the deceased, including the Vigilantes, were found with similar wounds, and it's speculated they were all inflicted by the same person using only one kind of weapon."

"Really? Then does that mean that you're part of the task force hunting for Stain? Eliminating the corrupt fits his M.O. to a tee."

"Pshh, please, the Commission is holding the reins of that investigation. I wouldn't be caught dead with them." He finished the contents of his glass, drying his lips on a napkin. "No, this is a person who's virtually unknown to the general public, mostly due to their quirky nature."

A mocking laugh and a thumb of his nose at Niijima were Giran's immediate response. Grinning, he taunted, "Eh, then I wish you good luck in finding them. There are droves of weirdos wielding knives everywhere. I'd bet you'd find one in the next booth over, even."

He kept chuckling, focused on his plate, and Giran failed to notice Ayashi's small, but triumphant smirk. "I never said this suspect used a knife," Ayashi pointed out, "but that's an excellent bit of info."

Giran's laughter died, and his face contorted into a grimace, as if he had just sucked on an especially sour lemon. "You know it was a logical thread of thought, given my mention of Stain, who also uses bladed weapons," he said through gritted teeth.

"Too late, Okuta. I've caught on to your little scheme now."

"Must I remind you that it was you who let it slip to me that a wanted suspect fled from Mos Eisley?" Giran said sharply, grinding his teeth in barely concealed fury.

"I did?" Ayashi asked, one hand over his chest in childlike innocence, "Huh, even if it were me, I'm damn sure I never uttered a name or what they were suspected of. I talked to you then simply to learn more about possible connections between a few discovered dead bodies. I recorded that conversation; do you want me to go over it, so we can check out what exactly it was that I said to you?"

He knew the telltale signs of a bluff from a decade-plus of amicable interactions with detective Niijima, but the game was up now. 'You cunning bastard,' Giran thought, brows sharply furrowed in rage.

Knowingly having extracted as much intelligence as he could possibly hope for, particularly now that Giran would be absolutely uncooperative after the stunt he pulled, Ayashi put on his trilby hat and gathered his trenchcoat and wallet from where he had left them on the floor. As courtesy, he opened his wallet to take out five notes of five thousand yen each, then lined them neatly in a stack over an unused dish. Rising up, he walked around the table towards the exit, shoving the sliding doors open, but before heading out, he peered over his shoulder to deliver a warning.

"Just to be absolutely, crystal clear with you, Giran: if push comes to shove, I will not hesitate to throw your ass in jail."

That saying produced a chilling, mocking cackle that erupted out of Giran's throat. Once he stopped, he countered in the same vein.

"That would be your end, Niijima. If it comes to that, I'll have no qualms spilling your fling with Nagant to whoever's interested."

The detective shrugged off the threat as best as he could, snarling a subdued, "We'll see about that."

Giran, his back to Ayashi, waved the detective off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Ayashi huffed, but left, not bothering to shut the doors. The broker examined the hefty sum of money, which would cover way over half of their combined tab.

'At least the bastard is generous.'

Alone, Giran waited for around fifteen minutes after Niijima had left, leisurely enjoying his beer and the leftover barbecue, to make sure the investigator wouldn't unexpectedly return and hear something he definitely shouldn't. Even so, he got up from his spot and stuck his head out to inspect the area beyond it: Niijima was nowhere to be seen. Relieved, Giran closed the doors again and returned to his cushion. Pulling his phone out, he made an emergency call.

"Ms. Charon? So, I need to–... Of course it's me, who the hell were you expecting?... Whatever. Something came up and I'll have to go back to Kamino to arrange some preparations. I'll be gone for a few days, so you'll have to keep going without me… No, there's no need to put a stop to our plans, but do slow down a bit… Yes, leave her be. She's my problem to deal with… Don't get caught."


...


It was long past midnight when detective Niijima arrived back in Musutafu's Central Police Department. He parked his car in the garage and rode the elevator up to the main offices, all the while mulling over his encounter with the broker and trying to figure out a way to apply what he learned to Himiko's pursuit.

Once inside the department, there was scarcely a soul around, apart from the odd late shift officer and one particular detective, alone in the brightly lit meeting room; everyone else involved with Toga's case had been dismissed for the day.

Before going over to greet his friend, Ayashi made a pit stop in the break room to brew a fresh pot of coffee. A short while afterwards, and carrying with himself the pot and a full cup, he entered the meeting room, announcing his presence with a mirthful, "Shouldn't you be at home, resting?" He walked to a side table, leaving the coffee on top of it.

"I could ask you the very same thing, Ayashi," detective Naomasa replied seriously, not taking his eyes off the whiteboard to greet his colleague.

"Heh, touché. Tell me, Tsukauchi, what do you expect to gleam from that mishmash of words that's not already written on it?"

"We must be missing something. She can't have simply vanished," Tsukauchi observed.

For the better part of the past couple of weeks, he had been closely pouring over the dozens of written clues and observations, finding and discriminating between several potential accomplices, as well as likely hideouts in different wards. With the support of a large portion of Musutafu's force, he had sifted through the mountains of paper for any relevant data that might help elucidate their investigation. All that vertiginous level of information, and none of it had been of any use so far. Not even a hint that could lead them to Himiko's current whereabouts.

Feeling his legs and feet screaming for mercy from hours on end standing up, Tsukauchi took a tentative step back and fell on his chair, desolate. Ayashi extended an arm, offering the cup of invigorating nectar to his friend. Tsukauchi took it, thanking Ayashi with a nod of his head.

"Anything worth mentioning from Nakamura's work?" asked Ayashi.

Tsukauchi shook his head negatively. "No, nothing." Seeing Ayashi's inquisitive look, the investigator decided to elaborate, "Don't get me wrong, Nakamura is an excellent analyst, and without her and her team's input, half this board would be empty." He scratched the top of his head, tired. "And yet, nothing came of it. I'm feeling bad just thinking about asking her to try harder. Being stuck like this is taking a lot out of us."

"Yeah, it really is…"

Tsukauchi downed the rest of the coffee and got up to grab the pot from the small table, positioned beside the board. "I've yet to read those interviews you made. How did it go?" he inquired of Ayashi while filling the cup.

"Tch, what do you think?" Ayashi grumbled, "Most of the alleged accomplices in custody can hardly remember her, and the ones that do couldn't tell a thing. It's safe to say they've only met with Toga in passing. With regards to the suspects at large… Well, you'll get no prizes for guessing correctly."

"More dead ends." Tsukauchi, in a bout of exasperation, punched the large oval table in the center of the room with a closed fist, the impact making pens and pencils lightly shake, and displacing a few loose pieces of paper. "Dammit! Is there no way out?" he exclaimed while looking up at the ceiling, pleading to some uncaring god.

"Calm down, Tsukauchi. Getting your nerves worked up will not help you in the slightest," Ayashi asserted.

"Says the jerk with a short fuse, who almost went to bat with a teenager," Tsukauchi sharply retorted, vexed at his colleague's irritatingly calm demeanor.

Ayashi smirked. "Exactly. Do as I say, not as I do, as the saying goes."

Detective Niijima began to chuckle, and Tsukauchi couldn't help but join him in some stress-relieving laughter, as fickle as it was. Sitting down again, he apologized to his friend.

"I'm sorry for exploding at you, Ayashi."

He was waved off, even though a shadow lingered behind Niijima's pupils. "It's whatever, I know too well what's eating you up."

Tsukauchi let out a long, exhausted groan. "It's just that… It's getting real tiring. Whenever I go visit the Midoriyas, I want to give them something, anything, to prove that they can trust us, only to show up empty handed. Again and again and again," he said while spinning his hand in the air to emphasize his frustration. A short instant and another sip later, he continued, "Our position is extremely precarious, with Midoriya-kun's life being jeopardized due to our negligence and Toga slipping through dozens of officers as if it was nothing. And now we're incapable of achieving even the smallest hint of progress. In all honesty, I can completely understand now why her case has been archived once already. It's mind-bendingly excruciating."

"I know, buddy, but again, letting that bad energy get to your head is how they beat you." Ayashi reached over to pat his friend in the back. "Besides, you're getting a lot of early wrinkles. If you keep frowning like that, you'll end up looking like a ripe passion fruit," he teased while chuckling.

"Shut up," Tsukauchi snarled, though he was clearly trying to suppress a grin. "What's gotten into you, acting all joyful like that?" he questioned, slightly weirded out.

"Overcompensating for the dread that the recently unearthed corpses instilled in me," Ayashi cryptically replied; purple eyes, framed by dark blue and pink locks, firmly stuck to the back of his mind.

Tsukauchi pondered worriedly that perhaps he should not have asked anything. 'Then again, he's just as worked up as the rest of us,' he thought idly.

Still chuckling in spite of his gloomy declaration, Ayashi got up from his chair and walked over to stand in front of the whiteboard, hands at his hips. "The guys at Central didn't identify any other traces of her in the public transit system with that A.I. of theirs, correct?"

Tsukauchi had picked up a piece of paper from the table, coincidentally a profile on Himiko's family. He had read it many times already, but was once again closely combing through it for anything else he might've missed. "No, but that doesn't mean much. She could have fled on foot," he replied.

"Nah, I seriously doubt it. That would've been an impressive feat for someone who was shot in the gut."

"It wasn't a direct hit…" Tsukauchi mumbled while the memory of a desperate Izuku tackling him flashed in his mind's eye.

"Regardless, if she values her life in any way, she would've sought shelter to treat her wounds first, to then remain unseen second." Ayashi started tapping on a picture of Izuku affixed to the board with his index finger, the noise alerting Tsukauchi, who looked over. Ayashi drew an imaginary line between Izuku, then to Himiko's photo, then back to Izuku. "She'll eventually go after him again," he concluded.

Tsukauchi was confused. "Err, we placed him under protection because of that possibility."

"No, you misunderstand me. She will do it. It's not a question of if, but when."

"How can you be so certain, Ayashi?"

"You've studied her profile, her past history and her methods just as much as I did, Tsukauchi. All her surviving victims, as few as they are, said similar things, in that she kept spouting nonsense about love and hurting and bleeding, as if these concepts were one and the same, always with a passionate look on her face. And what about her violent outbursts when those people predictably rejected her advances?"

"Right…"

"Now, contrast those statements to the ones we got from Midoriya, particularly his descriptions of her emotional reactions. Obviously different, but strikingly similar at the core."

"Yes, I guess that's correct," Tsukauchi voiced while his synapses attempted to follow Ayashi's logic.

"So, as cold of a killer as she might seem at first glance, the truth of the matter is that Toga's a deeply emotional individual. Of course, to the average person that definitely sounds absurd, but Toga has learned to view the world through a wildly different lens, and her morals have been warped as a result."

"Agreed."

"Adding to that, if Midoriya-kun's account can be fully trusted, Toga being forsaken by her own family could mean that she was beaten into learning from a young age that she had no one to turn to if needed. That is, she was alone, and everyone else was a potential threat."

Still feeling like he was missing something, Tsukauchi probed for answers, "Okay, I can see how you got to that conclusion… Where are you going with this?"

Ayashi had his back to Tsukauchi, one hand holding his chin in deep rumination. He then spun around abruptly to face his friend. "What exactly is All Might's relationship to Izuku Midoriya?" Ayashi asked, completely ignoring Tsukauchi's previous question.

Tsukauchi felt like he had been slapped across the face at the sudden change in subject. "... what?"

Ayashi continued, undeterred, "Why is All Might so interested in this kid? I'm asking it to you because you're much more familiar with him than I am, what with your close ties to that Yagi-san. Who is he, again? All Might's PR guy?"

"Not quite, he handles All Might's private affairs," Tsukauchi replied while sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, "Anyway, what's your point?"

"You haven't given me an answer yet."

Tsukauchi scowled a bit at that curt statement. He thought about arguing back, but Ayashi was currently in his – rude – "detective" mode, which would render any attempts at conversation futile until Ayashi reached, well, something. That notwithstanding, the seemingly random thread of questioning had enticed Tsukauchi's own curiosity. He leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms, gazing down to stare at nowhere in particular while he carefully considered his words. He couldn't accidentally reveal the secret to the actual relationship between All Might and Toshinori Yagi, after all.

"Well," he began, "I'm in the dark the same as you are. I only know, from what Yagi-san confided in me, that All Might took a special interest in Midoriya-kun after the shopping market incident, and decided to train him. Why he's done that now, after several years of working without a sidekick, I haven't the foggiest."

"Hmm, you're not being completely honest, Tsukauchi. I'm certain you have at least a hypothesis," Ayashi insisted.

Tsukauchi cracked his stiff neck and stretched his shoulders to get himself some precious seconds to respond adequately. "If I were to speculate, I believe that All Might saw in Midoriya-kun the same qualities he possess. And by that, I mainly mean the capacity to spring head first into danger without hesitation to save others."

Ayashi clapped his hands together. "Good thinking. That must be it: the two of them are self-sacrificial to a fault, even if the bulk of our society does not see All Might's heroic actions as such. In contrast, Midoriya was seen as reckless, but he acted the exact same way All Might would." He pointed again at Himiko's photo on the board. "That's why she'll go back for seconds. Well, at this point, more like thirds."

"Wait, you're saying…" Tsukauchi rose from his seat, eyebrows furrowed, gears clicking together in his mind. "Toga experienced an enormous shock once she had her worldview clash violently with Midoriya's. That, compounded with the fact that he saved her life, made it so she felt the need to continuously seek him, not to kill, but to… understand!"

Ayashi nodded his head in agreement. "Right on, Tsukauchi. For a girl whose whole being is killing for the sake of it, finding someone who put their own life below hers must have been unheard of. That's the piece of the puzzle we missed very early on, and which led us to this mess."

"Crap, why were we so blind?"

"Because we assigned Toga the correct amount of wariness, given what we already knew of her…" Ayashi tilted his head, conceding a point to a green-eyed teenager who wasn't present. "And yet, we clearly underestimated Midoriya-kun and, by extension, the difference that growing up under All Might's influence really had on the boy."

Tsukauchi shook his head. "Yeah, that sounds about right… Ayashi, if we're still on the same page, the whole reason you brought this up is because you believe that Toga is hiding someplace near Midoriya-kun's apartment, isn't it?"

Ayashi was back at staring at the board. "Absolutely," he replied. "Hmm, this is conjecture, pure and simple, but I just had an idea." He looked over to Tsukauchi. "Did Nakamura leave that map of Musutafu and the adjacent cities lying around?"

Bending his knees, Tsukauchi grabbed a rolled up, long object made of waterproof paper that was left below the meeting room oval table. "Right here. What do you need it for?"

Having already cleared up one side of the wide piece of furniture to make room for the map, Ayashi helped Tsukauchi roll it open, and used paper weights to keep the corners in place. Next, he uncapped three permanent markers and, with the blue one, he circled Izuku's apartment complex. Ayashi then pulled up his phone to search for something.

"What are you looking for?" Tsukauchi asked, thoroughly intrigued with Ayashi's so far undecipherable objective.

"The PDF with the missing person locations, where it's assumed that every single disappearance case of the last six months took place."

Tsukauchi eyed his friend, bewildered. "Why do you need it?... Unless, you don't mean–"

Ayashi interrupted him. "Come on, I know it's in my folder… Goddamn it, this is not the twenty-first century anymore, why weren't phones made simpler?!... Finally! "

Using the red marker, Ayashi frantically began highlighting spots on the map of the wide region, his eyes switching over the PDF file and the map at a nauseating pace for the only other observer in the room. When he was done, the paper was filled with dozens of red circles, with the exception of a conspicuous corner which was suspiciously close to the blue dot and free of any markings. At last, armed with a black marker, Ayashi made a large circle over the lonely, isolated and naked piece of the map.

He did not wait for Tsukauchi to ask what the hell was going on, and immediately started spouting his theory. "I don't have a compass with me, but if I did, I'd bet you my monthly salary that you'd easily see that the spots where people went missing are distributed in a way that they'd be found in the perimeters of concentric circles. They began far from Musutafu, but most kidnappings happened here in the past two months." To aid in the visualization, he made circular motions with one hand that roughly equated the shapes he'd mentioned. "As to where the common center is located…" he waved around the black ink.

Tsukauchi was absolutely astonished, and if not for the hand below his chin, his jaw would be hanging open. "Ayashi, did you just… solve the missing persons case?!"

Ayashi scratched the back of his head. "Look, l wouldn't go that far. Like I said, this is all still strictly conjecture. And, as you surely know, a lot of people from beyond Musutafu have been taken as well."

"No, this is very good," Tsukauchi uttered, mostly in shock, "Beforehand, we only saw those spots as being randomly scattered, and we were incapable of pinpointing a specific base of operations. In fact, we were working on the assumption that there wasn't even one."

"Well, I believe we can conclude that whoever is doing this wouldn't want to capture their victims in the exact same place every time to make it harder for us to track, so they must be following some sort of system."

"Uhum, yes. I'll say, this is the best plan of action I've ever seen regarding that investigation. And I don't know if you've noticed, but those–, let's see… Six to eight blocks that you highlighted are in the most rundown area of Musutafu, because they're right next to–" Tsukauchi pointed a finger at the very edge of the paper. "– Dagobah Beach, the open air dumpster. And it's the exact place Izuku Midoriya's been training."

"Shit, nice catch, Tsukauchi!"

"Damn… another thing we completely let slip by. It's clearer than water that we should've made that area a priority from the very first moment," Naomasa pointed out tiredly, not sharing as much of Ayashi's enthusiasm.

"Yes, we developed a hefty tunnel vision on assuming that Toga's much more skilled and smarter than she probably really is. In any event, we will have to reinforce the area around Dagobah, and leave lots of eyes around it at all times."

"No doubt. I'll have Nakamura test your thesis, by cross referencing the known disappearance locations in Shizuoka Prefecture and cities beyond to check if they match the pattern you just showed me." He waved in the general direction of the colored map. "As soon as she confirms it, we'll have a most compelling argument to the Chief, and we can begin the stakeout of all these buildings for suspicious activity."

"Got it. At the very least, this should get him off our backs for a while."

Tsukauchi hummed in agreement, and stayed in contemplative silence for a few moments, biting the inside of his cheek. He then spoke up, "The only thing that's bothering me is: why do you think that Toga is involved with whoever is behind all the disappearances? As in, how does she fit into any of this?"

"Remember when we theorized that she's being aided by someone? This is an extension of that."

"Yes, of course, but why these specific people?"

A gloomy, smoky room that smelled of alcohol, cigarettes and grilled meat came up in front of Ayashi's half-lidded eyes. He closed them and shook his head, dispelling the vision. "An informant of mine planted that idea. But, in all honesty, you might as well call it a gut feeling," he disclosed, self-possessed.

Tsukauchi eyed him suspiciously. "Nothing illegal, I presume?"

"Hah, now I see why Tanuma joked about you being a goody two-shoes, last time I talked to him." Feeling the side of his face burning at the heat induced by Tsukauchi's scrutinizing gaze, Ayashi did his best to tranquilize him. "No, Tsukauchi, you can rest assured that all's right."

"... Fine," Tsukauchi acquiesced, not fully convinced. "In any case, time to plan our next steps."


-\ - / - \ - /-


"Mommy, Daddy! Look what I have!"

"What is it, Himiko–... Where did you find that?! What did you do?!"

"I was curious, Mommy, and I wanted to see all the red inside it!"

"You're the one who killed it?!"

"Chiyo, what is going on?"

"Keita! Himiko is h-holding a… dead pigeon! And she's smiling!"

"What?!... Himiko! Throw that thing in the trash, right this instant! And why are you covered in blood?!"

"Because I was thirsty, Daddy… And isn't it cute, all red like this?"

"What are you saying?! And stop smiling like that! You… you creepy child!"


*SMACK*

"I'm sorry, Daddy! I won't do it again!"

"Shut up! And stop crying!"

*SMACK*

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, stop!"

"My own daughter, attacking another kid for his blood! You're a degenerate!"

*SMACK*

"He was being mean to me! He pushed me first!"

"Then why were you licking his shin? Huh?! Don't lie to me, Himiko, you were just looking to get your sick kicks from your filthy quirk!"

*SMACK*

"Mommy, help me!"

"...I'm sorry, Himiko, but this is for your own good."

*SMACK*

*SMACK*

*SMACK*


"... So, the results were inconclusive, but most likely she does not need blood to sustain herself. Even though blood carries nutrients, it is much more efficient for the body to absorb those through a varied and healthy diet."

"What you're saying, doctor, is that her quirk made her behave like that?"

"Yes, that's probably it. Though we'd need more tests to make sure… but, to be honest, she creeps me out, and I'd rather not examine her again. She was eyeing a pair of scissors on my table a bit too closely for my liking…"

"But what are we supposed to do?! Psychiatrists say there's no medicine for something specific like that, psychologists don't want to see her dead, and the last quirk counselor that saw her was so revolted that they black-listed her from the system!"

"... You could always try to force her to be more civilized."


"... Do you understand, Himiko? If I have to deal with your quirk or blood or what have you again, I'll disown you. You will not be allowed inside this house ever again. Are we clear?"

"... Yes, dad. I understand."

"Good. Now come with me to the garden."

"What?! But you promised me that you wouldn't lock me there anymore if I agreed to behave!"

"I know what I said. I want to make sure you understand just how serious I am."

"No! You said you wouldn't… Let me go! You're hurting me!"

"Quiet. One last time, Himiko. This is your last chance. Now come."


"... I've also been an exemplary student my whole life! I've done ballet like you forced me to, and I'm one of the best athletes on my school's gymnastics team! Then why does Sachiko get everything she asks for while I'm treated like a mistake who deserves nothing?"

"Because you are a mistake."

"... You can't be serious, mother. For as long as I can remember, all I've ever done is follow your every wish and every whim. All I know how to do is what you and father make me!"

"You do your obligations, Himiko. No more, no less. Once we judge you've done enough, you'll know."

"This isn't fair! Do you have any idea how much I'm hurting?"

"You should've realized by now that those poor attempts at earning sympathy will get you nowhere."

"But what else should I do? What more could you possibly want from me?!"

"If I had my way, Himiko, you would've never been born! I told Keita it was much too soon, but no, nonononono, of course not. He wanted to have a kid so badly, and I let myself be convinced, the fool that I am. And what did we earn as a reward? You, rotten from the inside by that sickness of yours. So, what do I want from you, truly? For you to disappear."


Eyelids covering yellow irises slowly opened, roused from another night of restless sleep by nightmarish visions of the past. They blinked rapidly, till the slit cat-like pupils could focus. As had become the norm for the last few weeks, there was only the vision of a drab ceiling, its white paint decaying, eaten away by humidity.

With a long, drawn out yawn, Himiko begrudgingly forced herself to get out from under the covers. It was the height of summer, with scorching days and slightly less warm nights, and yet the warehouse's basement was as cold as ever. Having grown accustomed to it, she ignored the chill that made the hairs all over her body stand at attention and slid off the bed, dragging her feet to the bathroom.

In what was now routine, she slowly undressed, only stopping to dedicate a few minutes to inspect and feel around the right side of her abdomen. She was vehemently told not to, but she couldn't contain herself from touching the scar the gunshot had left behind. A reminder of what happened when she was rejected by the one she fell in love with; the answer to her question of whether or not he could be trusted with her darkest secrets.

As usual, once she'd had enough of wincing whenever she poked at her side – as the soreness turned to a throbbing, dull ache –, she opened the cupboard above the restroom sink, grabbed the painkiller bottle and downed two pills. Even if the wound had mostly healed and the stitches had been removed already, the area, especially the scar, still hurt like a bitch from time to time. The doctor had said that it was caused by swelling and damaged nerve ends, as well as a healthy dose of phantom pain from the trauma. Whatever the reason, she hated it, even more so because as the days passed the relieving properties of the medicine seemed to be getting less and less potent, while the ache had yet to subside.

Afterwards, like a ritual, she got right under the showerhead as she twisted the cold water faucet, leaving it on for a freezing couple of seconds, in an effort to make herself fully wake up. Then, as the cold became unbearable, she gently turned the hot faucet, till the mixing got the temperature of the shower pleasant enough. And there she stood, unmoving, for several minutes, soaking, trying to relax and focus on anywhere but the pain.

Or the thirst, another thing that was getting increasingly worse.

As it turned out, the blood from animals only worked for a time. Similarly to the painkillers, pig's or cow's blood was beginning to lose its effect in keeping her want controlled. Maybe it was some subconscious effect, given that she instinctively hated having to resort to it after years of having tasted human blood of so many varieties. Perhaps it was some traumatic response, since the first time she was "disciplined" by her parents was after killing a bird when just a small child.

In any case, it didn't matter now if she drank blood from an animal, raspberry juice, or tomato sauce. To her, they all held no taste whatsoever, and instead of quenching the thirst, they only worsened it, as if her quirk factor was sentient and knew she was trying to deceive it. She hadn't experienced a hellish existence such as this since middle school; since before seeing Saito fight on the school's patio.

All of a sudden, her head felt foggy as a wave of nausea came out of nowhere to assault her senses, and she had to swiftly slam a hand on a wall to keep herself standing. 'Just breathe deeply, Himiko. You've been through this before, you know how to handle it.' She closed her eyes and through some effort her breathing steadied. She latched onto the feeling of water cascading over her, the droplets running down her skin, and the sound they made as they reached the floor. It was a sluggish process, but soon enough her brain had come down from its trip to the clouds, and her stomach didn't feel like evicting her non-existent breakfast. She could definitely say she was more at ease.

And yet, her throat felt dry.

She then turned the water off to quickly soap herself up. However, as she was rinsing it off, she momentarily stopped to admire her once pristine wrists, long ago marred by a lot of abuse, and her tongue unconsciously wrapped itself with desire around her canines. She scowled, though, as her brain caught up to her ravenous thoughts. To distract herself, she started to slowly and lovingly wash her own hair, massaging her scalp and then applying just a smidge of conditioner. If there was one thing she would never let go, even when her mental health was deeply steeped in mud, was the care she had for her ashen-blonde locks. It was good therapy.

And yet, her throat felt dry.

After she was done, she got out of the shower and languidly blew her hair with the dryer, all while brushing it to keep it silky and smooth. Satisfied, she let the now wet towel rest over a chair and got herself dressed in her usual attire, while trying to ignore the gnawing in the back of her mind. She stood in front of the bathroom's mirror one last time to style her hair in her messy buns, while also making sure the two bangs that framed her face were symmetrical. Done, she left her room and went to the kitchen.

Once there, she immediately headed for the refrigerator, paying no mind to the other occupants of the place, who, while vexed, ignored her just as well; they didn't want to risk getting on Giran's bad side. Opening the home appliance, her eyes were automatically drawn to the plastic bags that were full with a viscous and crimson liquid. She felt tempted to reach for them, but the memory of their not at all appetizing smell and taste came to mind. Grimacing, she picked a bottle of water instead, downing all its contents in a single, fluid motion. She smacked her lips together, feigning contentment, and threw the now empty piece of plastic on a nearby bin.

And yet…

Next, from in between the blood bags and a dozen packets of tofu Himiko withdrew a tupperware filled with leftover daifuku to munch on for breakfast – sweets taken as a souvenir after the owner of a grocery store was kidnapped –, and went to sit on a stool by the counter to leisurely appreciate the dessert. 'At least my sweet tooth still works fine.'

As she ate, Himiko lost herself in thought of days long gone by, and happy memories, as few as they were. She was so engrossed in her own mind that she failed to notice the approach of a silver-haired woman with bright red eyes. Only when the woman made noise by sitting on the stool right next to her did Himiko break out of her reverie, startled.

"Hellooo," Oogama cheerfully said as a greeting, smiling and waving a hand.

Himiko instinctively glared at the woman whose name she ignored. She focused on the pieces of daifuku left and decided to pretend to not listen. Oogama rolled her eyes, but she forced herself to keep smiling.

"C'mon, Toga-chan, you can't keep going like that forever. Aren't you tired of being angry at the world all the time?" Oogama asked, only to be promptly brushed off by Himiko's cold shoulder.

"What the fuck are you doing?" a blond man with dark-gray eyes whispered, mouth practically glued to Oogama's left ear.

She jumped in place while holding back a panicked scream, earning a laugh from the man. "Sakyou, you motherfucker! Come from behind me like that again and your headless body will be the last thing your eyes will ever see," she snarled.

"I thought you liked it when I came from behind you?" he teased, his gaze unashamedly going all over her figure, greedy. Her response was to look at him completely unimpressed. He smirked. "What's wrong? I know how excited you get whenever I put my hands around your throat, when we perform the little show that attracts those suckers," he said in an attempt to sound seductive.

Oogama exaggerated a yawn, bored. "Keep it up like that and you'll never tap this ass again. Now, Sakyou, I'm not in the mood, so what do you want?" she asked, brows furrowing.

He sighed, annoyed. "None of us need to get in trouble over you bothering miss 'I'm too special to mix with others'. So, again, what are you doing?"

Oogama crossed her arms. "Look, I'm done watching over a depressed teenager, it's too tiring. Besides, I looked into her and we two have a lot in common, so I might as well insist on befriending her," she said matter-of-factly.

"You just hate being ignored," Sakyou mockingly jabbed.

Her red eyes squinted at him. "Don't you have anyone else to bother? Go torture the prisoners or whatever it is you do with those chainsaw fingers of yours and leave us alone," she said angrily, done with conversation.

He chortled. "Are you sure?" She nodded fiercely, and he laughed again, pointing behind her. "Leave you and who alone, exactly?"

She raised an eyebrow and turned around, just in time to find that the previously occupied stool beside her now laid empty, and to catch a glimpse of a navy blue skirt fluttering, as the girl wearing it walked through the door that led upstairs, to ground level.

"Fuck, what a little asshole," she growled, getting up to follow in Himiko's trail.

She was stopped by Sakyou raising his voice to call out to her, "Let it go, Charon, and let's have some fun, instead. We both know you're much better at it than making friends."

"I want to do this, so fuck off," she replied coldly and curtly, not sparing a glance at Sakyou. Then, flipping her hair once, she added as an afterthought, "And FYI, you just lost a whole lot of privileges, so enjoy the view of my ass for the last time in a long while."

Her back still to him, Oogama flipped him off and walked out the door on the other end of the kitchen to go after Himiko. Sakyou did just as she said, and he admired her backside till she disappeared from view. Samehada, who had watched this whole exchange in silence while eating a stupidly long tuna sandwich, began chuckling. Sakyou glared at him.

"What's so funny?"

"You screwed up big time."

"How?"

"You're too much of a pig, and don't show women any respect," Samehada said sagely, a hand scratching his absent chin.

Sakyou scoffed. "Hah! And what could you possibly understand about that? Have enough experiences fucking fishes in the ocean?"

Samehada chewed and swallowed his current bit of sandwich calmly before addressing the attempt at an insult from Sakyou. "I ain't giving you the answer you deserve," Samehada began, absolutely self-possessed, "because you're just looking for a scapesheep. I ain't stupid enough to fall for your bait."

"It's 'scapegoat', you moronic fish-head." Samehada didn't reply, instead he only kept staring at Sakyou with beady black eyes while eating. After a good thirty seconds of silence, Sakyou stormed off, fed up, muttering under his breath, "Whatever. Fuck you too, Oogama."

Well away from pointless bickering in the kitchen, Oogama, as she went after Himiko, shortly found herself climbing a ladder that led to the warehouse's rooftops. As she came out on top, she saw Himiko sitting on a slab of concrete, kicking her feet while she watched the ocean glowing under the morning sun. Noticing a vague spot right next to her, Oogama went to sit beside the teenager, who was still munching on the daifuku.

"Why are you here? I thought I made it clear that I want to be alone," Himiko droned, sounding tired and irritated, her eyes never leaving the water.

"Trust me, honey, you've made it painfully clear how much you don't want to talk to anyone these past weeks," Oogama stressed. She accompanied Himiko's line of sight, and smiled at the image of tiny waves lightly crashing on shore, the bubbles shining brightly under the sunlight, and felt delight at the soft, comfortable breeze that blew. "Now I can totally understand why you spend so much time up here."

"Yeah, this place is great."

"But aren't you afraid of someone spotting you? Maybe a Hero?"

"Not really. If you didn't notice, not many people walk around this place because the beach is such a shithole. Meaning heroes don't have a reason to patrol here."

Oogama had to concede the point. "Huh, makes sense. You know, you might be smarter than you seem," she commented with mirth.

Himiko squinted at the backhanded compliment which was played off as jest. "Yeah, right. Anyway, I'll ask again: why can't you leave me be?"

"Hey, it was just a little joke, no need to be so offended." At Himiko's failure to respond, Oogama groaned. She scratched the back of her neck, getting impatient. "Whatever. In any case, I want to be on speaking terms with you, at least. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but we're the only women in here. We need to stand up for each other," she reasoned.

For the first time, Himiko glanced at her. One eyebrow raised in skepticism, she asked, "Coming at me with the women's solidarity angle? Really?"

"What? It's a completely valid reason," Oogama argued back.

Himiko's expression became deadpan. "I never said it isn't," she pointed out, her tone a clear indication of her incredulity, "I just find it hard to believe it when I'm inserted in the middle of a bunch of assholes, who're only looking out for themselves and their pieces of the pie. Even worse is the fact that you're also idiots, being that more than half of the pie goes to Giran."

It was Oogama's turn to roll her eyes. "Yes, I know capitalism is a bitch and that I'm being exploited, you don't have to remind me," she began, sounding indignant, "And yes, I'm also a capricious woman with a bad temper. However, you're much worse than I am. And don't even try to deny it, you know it's true. Do you have any idea how insufferable you've been to the others and me this whole time?"

"I know what I'm doing. Now, could you leave?" Himiko pleaded, petulant.

Oogama's brows furrowed and her face got red, anger flourishing. Instead of exploding, though, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing as she slowly counted to ten. Done, she reopened her eyes to find that Himiko was yet again watching the calm waters. Oogama sighed and, having an idea on how to grab Himiko's undivided attention while also making a point, she took both of her burgundy gloves off her hands. She started stretching her fingers and rubbing her palms together. Seeing movement out of the corner of her eyes, Himiko peered at her in curiosity.

After she was done with apparently warming herself up, Oogama joined her hands in front of her again with the palms facing each other, as if she was in prayer. Then, they started to tremble slightly, Oogama's eyes turned bright blue and the locks of her silver hair began to wave around, like she was embroiled in a storm. It became obvious to Himiko that the woman was activating her quirk and she got apprehensive, bracing herself for the possibility that she might need to protect herself at a moment's notice.

Unperturbed, Oogama continued, her hands steadily separating, and Himiko saw what seemed like a stick forming, each end coming out of a tear in the middle of Oogama's palms. This continued for a bit, till the stick was around fifty centimeters long. Oogama broke one end off, but it kept growing out of the other palm, and with her now free hand she started to manipulate the form and density of what was quickly becoming a staff. Interestingly enough, there was no bleeding anywhere, Himiko noticed.

After a couple more minutes, Oogama was done, and she held in her hands a massive, whitish five meter long pole, one of its ends flat and blunt, like the blade of a boatman's oar, the other curved and sharp and pointy, like a grim reaper's scythe. Himiko had watched it all mesmerized, closely observing Oogama's fine and precise hand movements, as well as the extreme control she demonstrated by being able to create such an impressive weapon seemingly out of her own body.

The woman got up and began to spin and swirl and twirl her weapon around, giving an amazing show of dexterity. The blade slashed across the air with steady and thought-out movements, and the flat end served as an aerodynamic brake, just as much as a sledgehammer whenever Oogama almost came close to slamming it against the concrete. The pole uniting both ends would bend and twist, coming straight at the precise moment to multiply the full strength of the momentum stored as it spun, delivering a stupendous blow that Himiko was certain would either cleanly cut or disintegrate anything it made contact with, depending on which point hit first.

The weapon would seem to anyone else too bulky and unwieldy to be effective, but in Oogama's hands it almost looked like it weighed nothing, as if swinging it was as simple for her as a master of the martial arts would find it easy to use a bo staff. Seeing how the weapon bent around Oogama's body, Himiko pondered that at times it more accurately resembled a deadly gymnast's ribbon. All the while Oogama's eyes shone in an almost purple hue, as the natural red intermittently mixed with the shiny blue, and her long hair accompanied her movements gracefully.

Despite being seated right next to her, not once did Himiko feel like she was in any danger. She was no idiot and knew that Oogama could kill her as easily as she breathed if she so desired, but Himiko could not sense any outwardly malice emanating from the woman. Instead, she oddly started to feel a sense of companionship, as she couldn't make out a reason why Oogama decided to display her mastery over her quirk, but she got the impression it wasn't as a warning or a show of power.

Once she was done with her little performance, Oogama reabsorbed the whole thing into her own body through the palms of her hands with impressive swiftness, and sat down beside Himiko again, not looking tired in the slightest, not even winded. The only sign she ever did anything were a few locks of silver hair sticking out in her otherwise immaculate appearance. She glanced at Himiko and, wiggling her eyebrows, said, "That was pretty cool, wasn't it?"

Himiko couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled up at Oogama's friendly demeanor, the first time she laughed ever since talking to Magne over the phone. "Yes, I have to admit it was. So, that's why you're called Ms. Charon? Because of the half scythe-half pole thingy?"

Oogama's eyes sparkled in glee. "So you did get it! I'm so glad someone else finally caught the reference." She put one open hand up, offering a high-five, and Himiko obliged, the two of them giggling afterwards. "I was right, you're much smarter than all the others in here. I could shove a mythology book right under their noses and they still wouldn't understand," she amended, unable to hide the irritation at not being acknowledged beforehand.

"Yeah, right. How does it work?" Himiko asked, curious.

"My quirk, Bone Wielder, allows me to command all the bones of my body and use them in whichever way I want at will."

To illustrate it, tiny blades came out of the tips of her fingers. By the color and texture, Himiko could tell that they actually were made up of the phalanges of Oogama's fingers, and seemed sharp as all hell. The bones retracted back into her skin.

"Not only that," Oogama continued, "I can exert control all the way down to the osseous cells responsible for forming and breaking down bones, as well as regulate its strength and density. By making my cells produce a whole lot of bone material, I can then push it out of my body to use it. And, once it reaches a certain length, with a hand I can control how that bone will grow, its shape, form, and function, that sort of thing."

"Wow, that sounds… overly complicated," Himiko commented.

Oogama chuckled. "Heh, it took a long time before I got that proficient."

"And doesn't it hurt? Pushing bones out of your body?"

"It does, but I've grown used to it, to the point it doesn't even register anymore. Besides, my skin heals quickly, since I can also order my bone marrow to produce platelets to close up my wounds. Though, to be fair, nowadays this is mostly subconscious. It isn't a perfect process, as you'll see that it leaves plenty of scars behind on my skin."

To make her point, Oogama showed Himiko the palms of her hands, marred with numerous old injuries from past uses of her quirk. Himiko felt tempted to reach out and touch them, but decided against it, as it was way too intimate of an action. Instead, she reached for another daifuku and stuffed it whole inside her mouth. She then presented the tupperware to Oogama, as a sign of goodwill, to which Oogama simply smiled, rejecting the offer with a polite shake of her head.

"Does that mean that there's a lot of scars all over?" Himiko inquired after some time passed with the two of them in quiet contemplation.

"There used to be, but most of them have faded with time. It helps that my father had a very weak passive regeneration quirk, and that it mixed with the bone one from my mother."

"Uhum, that's cool…" Himiko said out loud, not giving away the envy that involuntarily flared up at hearing how Oogama inherited such amazing powers from her parents. "So," she continued, "other than controlling your bones, can you produce anything else, or just the scythe?"

"Oh, absolutely, I can create whatever I want. Imagination is the limit… Well, that and stamina… And blood levels, I guess… And calcium… a shitton of calcium."

"Huh, I guess that explains all that tofu inside the fridge."

"Yep, I need to eat lots of food rich in calcium, I just happen to like tofu the most."

"Makes sense…" Himiko said absent-mindedly. Then, wanting to find out just what exactly was going on, she asked next, "Why did you show me your quirk? Why tell me about it?"

"Oh! Right, where was I going with this…?" Oogama uttered, looking up in thought while one finger tapped on her chin, her ditzy outlook prompting Himiko to facepalm in second hand embarrassment. "Oh, I remember now!" Oogama then grinned widely while looking at Himiko, her sharp teeth in full display. "I wanted to show you that I get you, because I am also shunned for my quirk!"

Himiko stared dumbly at Oogama, eyes squinted, absolutely unsure of where the older woman was getting at, and also a bit suspicious at the insinuation that Oogama knew something about her history. She slid a bit away from the leering Oogama, instinctively putting some distance between them. Himiko raised two fingers in the air, Oogama peeking at them in curiosity.

"Okay, first of all," Himiko began, sounding pissed off, "how the fuck do you know anything about my past with my quirk? And second, what do you mean 'you're shunned'? Your quirk does not scream to me 'I'm a danger to society' other than the fact that you made a weapon out of it. Or do you need to eat other people's bones, like I have to drink blood?"

Oogama giggled lightly, finding Himiko's uneasiness amusing. "You know what? Those are perfectly reasonable questions. Okay, let's begin with the quickest one: no, I do not have to eat bones. I've tried, but they're too tough and crunchy for my taste, even when cooked. Also, and this is a nerdy detail, absorbing calcium from them is not as efficient as from other foods."

"Huh, right…" Himiko muttered, not unaware of the fact that Oogama did not confirm nor deny if those bones she ate were from a human.

"Moving on," Oogama said, getting up once more. Her back to Himiko, arms crossed over her chest, she continued, "I don't have all the details, but there's still some information on you publicly available, from when you attacked a classmate a couple of years back. Even with all the biased reporting, it didn't take a genius to figure out that your family hated you, and that the only reason they weren't even more glad that you had left was the fact of how you left, bringing 'shame' to them."

Himiko was stunned at how good of a reading Oogama had on her past from seemingly extremely lackluster sources. It could only mean that the woman with an amazing bone bending quirk knew what she had gone through. She was about to raise her voice when Oogama suddenly turned around to study her face. Grinning, Oogama bent over, so her eyes were level with Himiko's, and then she winked.

"If that stupid expression is any indication, I got it pretty much spot on, didn't I?"

"You did… But how?"

Oogama leaned back, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. "Well, like I said, I get you, and that's because I had a terrible upbringing as well. Before you say anything, know that you don't have to tell me any details if you don't want to. It's your past and your trauma, and you owe nothing to me… Well, other than that time I went to that apartment to get your belongings for you," she pointed out in a tongue-in-cheek way.

Himiko showed her a lopsided grin, to which Oogama laughed again.

"Just kidding!" she humorously expressed, before asking, "Answer me just this one thing, Toga-chan: how did your parents react when your quirk first manifested?"

"Poorly…" Himiko replied, averting her gaze to the side.

"Yeah, figured. Although, I doubt it was as bad as compared to my experience. When my quirk activated for the first time, I was in my father's arms. I sneezed and… Well, his chest was kinda impaled with two dozen pairs of ribs." Himiko grimaced, and Oogama rushed to explain, "It's not as terrible as it sounds! I was just four, you know, so with my ribs as small and short as they were, it was more like he was pricked with a bunch of needles all at once. The worst part, by far, was that my bones coming out ruined the shirt of my favorite pair of pajamas."

Her head drooping, Oogama sounded genuinely saddened over the destroyed piece of clothing of her four year old-self, much more than hurting her own father, so Himiko just had to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it. Oogama shortly accompanied her, chortling as well.

"Hey, I'm being serious over here!" she said between giggles, pretending to be angry with a poorly kept scowl.

As the laughter died down, Himiko felt more comfortable asking Oogama about her childhood, even if she herself didn't want to re-explore her own yet again.

"After this, did your parents start to treat you badly?"

"Um, no, not at first, but these accidents became recurring, and they began to isolate me. In time, they took me out of school, and eventually, they got so scared of me that I was forbidden from even leaving my room." Ire flashed across her features, and she went on a furious tirade, "I mean, how is that fair? I didn't know what I was doing, I couldn't even control it? Besides, my mother had a very similar quirk, so how come she never tried to help me with mine? Irresponsible bitch."

That hit way too close to a home run, and any envy Himiko had previously felt evaporated in a heartbeat. "They feared you?" she wondered aloud, flabbergasted.

"Yes. If I even dared to take a step out of my room, my parents would berate me and threaten me with a beating. And yet, the whole time I could tell that they were afraid out of their minds that I would simply stab them, what with their bugged out eyes and pale face whenever they even so much as dared to glance at me," Oogama recollected, her red eyes seeming distant.

"Err, how did you deal with that?"

"Well, so as to not get bored out of my mind, I turned to reading. A lot. I had a tablet with one of those free library apps, so I just went hours on end reading everything I could find. Not just books, but manga, comics, magazines, anything. I believe you got it by now, but once I found out about the Greek myths, those became my obsession. I don't really remember why, but I fell in love with those stories. I had the idea to forge my Ferrywoman's Oar after a comic where Charon had a cool as fuck design, and was a main character. Well, I wasn't as creative when deciding on a villain name," she finished, chuckling.

Himiko laughed as well. Despite appearances, the woman in front of her was a nerd, through and through. Eyeing her outfit, Himiko couldn't stop herself from asking, "Um, if you were inspired to be like a goddess of the underworld, why not look the part? Those clothes are amazing, but they don't exactly make me think of you as a 'deadly woman with a scythe'."

"First, thank you for the compliment," Oogama began her reply, grinning, "Second, ancient history wasn't my sole obsession. I also got really, really into fashion. And I discovered that these colors better complimented my hair and my eyes. Besides, they look much better than a reaper's drab, boring black cloak, wouldn't you agree?"

"For sure, no complaints from me."

"Oh! There's also the fact that using these awesome clothes keeps me contained while using my quirk. I'd hate to destroy them by pushing my spine out or something, tearing them apart."

Laughing once more, Himiko nodded alongside Oogama, who was clearly proud of her perfect sense of style and flawless logic. However, this whole talk about quirks, looks, childhood and what not was beginning to remind her too much of Izuku. Himiko's humor took a nosedive, her expression becoming sullen all too quickly.

Seeing that, Oogama's own mood went down. She sighed, but had not given up yet. Their conversation had been progressing so well, after all.

"Being hunted by the police can't put that heavy of a damper on someone, to the point your mood does a one-eighty abruptly, or else all of us here would be down in the dumps. So, I'll take a wild shot, Toga-chan: you're suffering for love, aren't you?"

Yet another home-run. Himiko stared at Oogama, surprised. Then, looking away, she muttered weakly, "Yeah…"

"Well, in that case, can't say I relate. I don't pull any punches, and my last ex is currently decomposing in the bottom of some lake in Yamagata prefecture as we speak. But you're not even eighteen yet, so I can at least understand being upset like that."

"What about that blond guy with gray eyes?"

"Who? Sakyou? He can do a pretty okay job, but nah, there's no feelings there. He's too cold, only interested in the physical." Suddenly, Oogama's hands found themselves on her hips and, with a knowing smirk, she asked Himiko, "So, you can't be bothered to remember your cohorts names, but you know when they're fooling around?"

Rolling her eyes, Himiko answered with a deadpan look, "You two kept me awake two nights in a row this week, when you decided to use the storeroom right across from my bedroom. Those wooden doors don't work all that well on keeping noise from getting out, and you're awfully loud."

Blushing and scratching the back of her head, Oogama stuck her tongue out, uttering an embarrassed, "Sorry about that! Hehehe…" She then forcefully coughed on a closed fist to dispel the air of awkwardness. "Ahem, let's push that jerk to the side. He's making me consider giving him the same treatment that I reserve for my exes… Anyway, Toga-chan, you can't let this girl… Err, or boy, nonbinary folk, whoever they are, dictate your state of mind like that. It's not healthy."

Himiko took a scrutinizing gander at Oogama, but the woman held her ground, and Himiko didn't feel like squinting any longer. "I know it's not okay to stay like this…" She groaned. "But it's been hard to forget him."

Oogama smiled at the teenager sympathetically. With a flurry of quick and graceful movements, she spun in a circle on her heels once, twice, three times, and stopped in front of Himiko, who watched her carefully. Then, Oogama opened her arms wide, and with an even more grandiose smile, excitedly said, "Toga-chan, like I said before, aren't you tired of sulking all the time? Don't you miss feeling carefree and happy as I do right now? Don't you wanna go out to, like, fuck shit up, just as you did when you were set free from your shitty family?"

"... I guess I want something like that, but also I don't think I should," Himiko replied after a moment of self-reflection. "Then again, I can't see an alternative," she concluded, crestfallen.

Her arms dropping by her sides, Oogama crouched down, and extended a hand to lightly caress Himiko's right cheek. She held a soft grin, and her red eyes exuded a kind aura. "Toga-chan, don't you want a friend? Need someone by your side who can understand you? I can be that and so much more for you."

If nothing else, Himiko took pride in being able to read a person's true feelings and motives based on their expressions, their movements, and their tone of voice. It was an acquired skill, necessary both for her own survival, and to be the greatest impersonator her quirk allowed her to be. And right now her experience told her, beyond any doubts, that Ms. Charon was being completely, wholly sincere.

Much like her, Charon seemed to live with her heart on her sleeve, always letting her honest feelings plain for the whole world to see… unless it was needed to keep them hidden. But she was so desperate for any signs of friendship that in that moment of elation Himiko forgot that people like her and Charon were also masters of feigning amiability when it suited their goals, and that she shouldn't have so easily trusted Charon just yet.

However, smiling, Himiko leaned in on Oogama's touch. "A friend… That sure sounds nice," she confided.

Oogama laughed out loud in joy, and she rose up again. "Well, we should make that official, then. Oh, and given that we're just now being formally introduced, my name is Honoka Oogama. It's a pleasure to meet you, Himiko Toga."

She offered her open hand to Himiko, who took it in a friendly handshake, the two smiling at each other.

"Nice to meet you, too, Honoka."

Her brows knitted briefly in confusion at the use of her first name, just like that, but then, with a smile that showed her teeth, Honoka did not contest it, simply saying, "Heh, and it's just as nice getting to know you, girlfriend."

The two giggled again. Himiko wordlessly presented the tupperware once more to Oogama, as if to seal the deal, and this time she accepted a piece of daifuku. Sitting down, the two ate in comfortable silence for a while, watching the letargic movement of the ocean. After some time had passed, Himiko was then reminded of a missing piece of information.

"Oh yeah, I ended up forgetting to ask: what happened to your parents?"

"Oh? I killed them! Took a page right out of the old tales and murdered Kronos before he had the chance to kill me. My Rhea was collateral damage," Oogama replied naturally, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, her smile never leaving her lips.


...


After going for a ride on a good old-fashioned taxi and getting out on a quiet and peaceful neighborhood, close to the ocean, he walked three blocks down, one turn to the left, another two blocks, a shortcut through a darkened alley, a right turn, and soon enough he was on a straight path alongside the beach, on course to the warehouse. This was the longest and safest route Giran had memorized, nearly inconspicuous, and one he was certain Niijima was not privy to, no matter if the detective had been spying on him or not.

Arriving at his destination, he unlocked a side door with his own key, locking it back after entering. Samehada was sitting by the very same opening, reading a newspaper, and acknowledged the broker's entrance with a nod of the head and a salute of his hand. After a short talk with the shark man, Giran continued on his way, going down the stairs, then through the door to the kitchen. There, he found Charon practically stuffing her face with a mountain of tofu and a side of steamed rice, shoyu, and a generous dose of sake.

"Hey there, Giran," she greeted, mouth full, "It's been a while."

"Evening, Ms. Charon. And yes, the preparations took much longer than I was hoping for. Then again, my client hasn't used that place since that thing with the villain made of plasma, so it shouldn't have been a surprise. How are things around here?"

She finished swallowing a bite of rice and cleaned her mouth with a napkin before answering, "All's fine and dandy. We have everything in order as well, just give us the sign."

He smirked, clapping his hands together. "Wonderful. All's in place, we just depend now on that cloudy fellow's humor improving. He, in his own words, 'hates being used like a tool', but I think he just doesn't like dealing with me."

"Heh, I can see what he means," Charon said, hiding her giggles behind her hands.

Giran chuckled as well. "Yeah… Well, the good thing is that my client recognizes our efforts and will clip Kurogiri's wings if it comes to it."

"Sounds good, boss."

"Oh yeah, seeing you reminds me, I've heard that the situation with Toga has improved as well?"

Giving him a thumbs up, Charon nodded enthusiastically. After downing most of her sake, she vigorously exclaimed, "Hell, yes! We're practically besties now. She even lets me call her by her first name!"

He whistled, impressed. "Wow, really? How did you manage that?"

Her smile took on a hint of duplicitousness. "I simply did as you said you would act: I told her what she needed to hear the most."

He guffawed boisterously, and she followed his lead. Drying a tear out of one eye, he congratulated her, "I was absolutely not expecting that. I'm amazed, Oogama. You know, I always had the feeling you weren't just a pretty face with a powerful quirk."

She stuck her tongue out at him, shaking her head. "Of course I'm much better than you took me for. That's just how it is, being a woman…" she expressed through tight lips and a downtrodden look, even if it was obvious she was holding back a smirk.

He rolled his eyes, still grinning. "Yeah, yeah, I admit it, and I'm sorry. But, great job nonetheless. I can't even be mad that you messed with her when I explicitly told you not to. That makes adding the finishing touches much simpler now."

Picking up a shot glass out of the cupboard, he moved next to Oogama and, with the sake bottle in hand, filled his and hers for a toast. He raised his full glass in the air, and she accompanied him.

"To our League, and to Toga! May she aid us in our mutual enrichment!"

They clinked their glasses together and downed the alcohol in a single gulp, both of them smacking their lips and clicking their tongues at the sweet aftertaste.

"Hahaha! That was great. Now, I'll leave you to your dinner. There's a blonde teenager I still need to talk to."

Before he could walk away, Charon's hand shot up to hold Giran by the wrist. He gazed at her quizzically. Catching up to what she just did, she let go, and cleared her throat before speaking her mind.

"Look, I might have spun some lies to befriend her…" He raised one brow at her, confused, and she rushed to elaborate, "I just killed my parents because I wanted to! I mean, they didn't really care for me, and they did ignore me as much as they could when it became clear I was a lost cause to them, which is why I became a bookworm–"

She was shushed by Giran's open palm in front of her face. "Hey, and sorry if this sounds harsh, but what happened to you and if what you said to her is true or not does not concern me; results are all that matter," he enunciated, not able or caring to hide his disinterest. "Now get to the point, Ms. Charon," he concluded.

She huffed, scowling, but closed her eyes to count to ten. After opening them again, her face kept its serious expression. "What I want to say is… I might have lied to her to get on her good side, but in the end she's a pretty cool girl with, like you yourself said, a whole lot of potential. So, I want her to stay with us just as much as you do, but… take it easy on her? Please?"

He scoffed, and rubbed one hand on the back of his neck. 'What the fuck is up with all these emotional psychopaths around me? Whatever happened to the cold, unfeeling serial killers of the good old days?' Scanning Charon's face, he found her to be unflinching, fully serious with her request. Sighing, he gave in to it.

"Fine, fine, I'll see what I can do. But no promises. If she starts whining, it'll be hard to keep it cool. Toga is stubborn like hell, and to get through to her you must use some tough words every now and then."

She nodded and grinned. "Thank you for at least considering it, boss."

"Yeah, right. Well, see you in a bit." He started to walk away, then spun around. "Um, she isn't in her room right now, is she?"

"Nah, don't worry. I wouldn't have admitted to lying if I knew she could be nearby. She went out for one of her nightly walks. She'll be back soon, I imagine."

He chuckled, even if he raised his eyebrows in consternation. "They're closing in, and she insists on going out anyway… She's nothing if not daring. Or stupid. – *sigh* – Anyway, thank you, Oogama."

She waved at him and, once he left the kitchen, heading for the living quarters, she resumed her meal.

He walked past several pairs of doors and, reaching his destination, he fished his keyring out of his purple blazer's pocket. Giran unlocked the door to Himiko's room and got inside, flicking the light switch on. He found a surprisingly cared for and tidy place, showing that despite it all, Himiko did grow up in a well-off family, and was educated to be a fine lady.

He sat on Himiko's bed and pulled his phone to pass the time. He didn't have to wait long before he heard steps echoing outside in the hallway, coming to a halt in front of the open door to the teenager's lair.

"Why are you in my room?"

He looked up to find Himiko glowering at him, her face morphed in an expression of distrust and slight disgust. He pocketed his phone again and, groaning, got up. "I want to talk, and figured it would be easier if I waited for you to return to your room," he stated nonchalantly.

Still glaring at him, Himiko closed the door behind her. Then, supporting her back on it, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Right, I guess that works. You never seemed to be the type to sniff a girl's socks, anyway," she said mockingly.

He chortled in response to her insolence, finding it entertaining. "Oh, Toga, never change, please."

She showed a half-grin. "Don't intend to. Now, what do you want to talk about? Going to scold me for going out again?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. What's the point in that? You were never good at following orders, anyway. No, I'm here to put forth that proposition you're familiar with already."

"Still insisting on that?" she lamented, feeling drained by a conversation that had barely taken off.

"And why not? You're a capable and strong young woman, with skills that can and should be honed even more. I'm offering you the chance to become the best version of yourself that you can be."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Fast," she retorted, unimpressed, then added, "And you say that I can't follow orders – which, not completely false – and yet you want me to take part in something where I will be forced to listen to someone? Kinda contradictory, wouldn't you say?"

She finished her reply by smirking, smug at pointing out the supposed lack of sound logic in his argument. Scoffing, he waved her off.

"Tch, it's not like I'm having you join the JSDF, Toga. While there is always someone on top – in this spacious underground, yours truly – there won't be a rigid set of rules or what have you. On the contrary, actually. Every member is assigned a task, more or less, but they're free to do as they please… most of the time."

"... Yeaah, I'm not convinced," she commented while checking under her fingernails.

His head drooped for an instant, but sighing, he shrugged and shoved his hands inside his pockets. "Well, suit yourself, but beware that my patience has run dry. So don't come crawling to me with your tail between your legs next time. If there's a next time, that is."

That remark earned a lift of an eyebrow from her, as she lowered her hands to study Giran. She hated being reminded of the fact she went to him for aid.

"Not like I had a choice. And what exactly are you implying by 'next time'?"

"There's always a choice, Toga. You could've simply let yourself be captured by the cops."

"How in the fuck is that a choice?!" she countered angrily, "What could I get from that, other than a life in prison?"

"I don't know, but maybe you wouldn't have been separated from the darling idiot that managed to turn you into this boring, depressed teenager. He would visit you in prison, I'm sure," he replied, grinning and containing a laugh.

Leaning away from the door, Himiko slammed a foot in front of her, leering at Giran with venomous eyes. "You don't know shit about him and who he is, so I'd prefer it if you shut the fuck up and stop with the unnecessary comments," she practically barked.

Giran took a step back, still smirking, and raised his hands in front of him in self-defense. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you didn't care about him any more, even more so when he lured the police to you?"

"How do you know that?" she said, taken aback and scowling furiously.

'Because I eavesdropped on you, idiot,' he thought idly. He said out loud, instead, "C'mon, Toga, you take me for a fool? The way you arrived here, your behavior and your constant references to someone you've met… It wasn't all that complicated to piece everything together."

She bit the inside of her cheek, hard, drawing out a small streak of blood. Breathing deeply, she inquired of Giran, pointing a finger in his self-satisfied face, "You didn't answer me. Which 'next time' ?"

"I refer to the fact that I can't shelter you forever, Toga, and that the time for us to part ways is near," he replied, himself inspecting his nails this time, "The others and I will join the main organization soon, and we'll be too occupied to take care of you. So, unless you want to fend for yourself again…"

Himiko shook her head in astonishment, her fists closing in a fierce grip. "Huh, this is just like last time… I either join forces with you, or you kick me out."

"No, the circumstances might be similar, but it's not the same because, like how you love to point out every chance you get, you've changed, Toga. You're not the naive and lost girl of years ago, and I'm not taking advantage of you. It's like I said a while back: you don't need me and I don't need you, but we could mutually benefit each other."

Her grip loosened, and she stormed past him to go wash her hands and her face in the restroom. After cooling off some and drying herself off with a towel, she glanced at Giran from the corner of the bathroom's door. He was standing in the same position as before, with his hands in his pockets, studying the ceiling.

Withdrawing, she eyed her reflection on the mirror, focusing on the dark bags under her eyes. "And why would I join you? What can I gain from it?" she asked, supporting herself with her hands grabbing the sides of the sink.

"As I'm sure you remember, Toga, we're talking nothing short of a revolution, something you've always dreamed of. Or did I make up all those times you swore bloody vengeance on those who wronged you over your quirk, and how you wished to be free to be yourself?"

His words were like honey laced with poison, and for a moment Himiko saw her other self inside the mirror with a wicked smile, and shining yellow cat-like eyes. She shook herself awake by slapping a hand on her cheek, the same one she bit earlier, amplifying the pain. If Giran heard anything, he never addressed it.

"No, I definitely said all that," Himiko mumbled, defeated, "The thing is, there's a person that wouldn't like that in the slightest."

Giran's brows furrowed in confusion. "And why would you care–... Oh, now I see." His eyebrows unfurled, and he chuckled knowingly. "The things young love can do to a person… Toga, how will that work? You haven't answered for anything you've done, so what, are you aiming at a clandestine relationship?"

"No, that wouldn't work either…"

"Then I already presented a solution to you. Once our work is done and this ship is capsized, you won't have to worry about the police or any heroes getting in the way of you and your special someone."

"But…" – '... he wants to be a Hero,' she thought, but couldn't actually say it.

He rubbed the back of his neck, getting irritated at Himiko's torturous hesitance. Gazing at his watch, Giran was struck by an idea, so stupidly patent that he couldn't believe he forgot about it till now.

He glanced at the restroom. "How is your thirst? I know you haven't been drinking the blood Samehada got for you," he said, trying to convey as much sympathy as he was able to.

It was like she had been hit in the back of the head with a club, and Himiko's hands slipped off the sink, the girl falling to her knees on the floor. Her breathing was frantic, her head heavy, and her eyes watered. The nausea took her stomach, her skin began to crawl, as if a million ants were walking and biting all over it, and she was simultaneously too cold and scorching hot.

As if it had a conscience all its own, her thirst had flared up, again. But like always, she was a fighter and wouldn't let it take hold of her… but she was getting tired.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a few seconds. Reopening them, she whimpered. "It's getting restless, and… it's starting to hurt," she muttered out through gritted teeth.

"Then why aren't you drinking it?"

"Because that crap isn't working anymore, that's why," she curtly replied.

"Huh?... Oh, I get it now," he said, gazing at the stone floor, "So, if I got it right, this kid you like doesn't think it's okay that you get blood from people, even though it's the only thing that actually works for you?"

She chuckled humorlessly. "No, it doesn't matter to him how my quirk works, but he hates the way I used to get blood for myself."

Knowing that Himiko was completely stuck due to some kid had been nothing short of incredible so far, so Giran just had to explore that even more. He was starting to see the shimmering of a path forming in front of his eyes, and he knew just how to conduct the conversation to get to his goal.

"Remember when you told me that you wanted to prove your parents wrong?"

She raised her head in an instant, and forced herself off the ground in a hurry. Standing at the doorway, she stared daggers at him.

"What?"

He had to bite his inner cheek to keep from smiling. "Remember when you said that you're not a monster? What happened to that?" he asked, twisting the knife.

She almost choked on her own spit in disbelief. "That hasn't changed! I'm not guilty for the way I was born!" she nearly yelled.

He raised a hand, dismissing her accusation. "Never said you were, but you sure are giving off that impression, what with how you're acting."

"That's…! But–..." she stuttered.

"Himiko Toga, are you or are you not a monster?"

"I AM NOT!" she screamed, her grip so strong her knuckles were colored white.

This time he didn't hold back his grin, which was positively beaming. "Then prove it. Show to the world that you were never wrong for having those desires, and that it's hypocritical to condemn you for a power you never chose for yourself."

She averted her gaze, sadly looking at the ground. "But he wouldn't like that–..."

"Then prove him wrong with your own convictions!" Giran shouted, interrupting her. He motioned at her with an open hand, pointing at the center of her chest. "Or what, are you going to stay a hostage to those feelings forever? A slave, bound to someone else's desires?"

She simply stared at him, stunned. She never knew Giran to show off such energy, even as passionate as he had ever been over his "business dealings". For his part, even Giran was impressed at just how eloquent he sounded, and was definitely satisfied at hitting Himiko precisely on her weak spots, if the way she was closely examining her own palms was any indication. A few seconds later, it seemed she had reached an understanding, as her hands closed in fists again.

"I want to be free. I've always wanted that," she said, voice low and weak, yet sounding much more resolute than a minute prior.

"Then what's the hold up?" he stressed, egging her on.

She bit her lower lip. "I…" She hesitated. Noticing Giran's eager stare, she decided to stress just how much she changed. "After meeting him, I can't just go back to taking blood like I used to. It doesn't feel right anymore."

"I'm sorry, but just how does that work? You've been converted to christianity or something?" Giran grumbled, getting grumpy.

She glowered at him. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, anyway."

"Hah! Well, then I guess I should rest my case, Toga. If you're so intent on paying for what you've done, be my guest."

"I never said that."

He was beyond fed up. "Then what are you doing here? Why did you even come to me in the first place? I don't know if you've noticed, but this isn't a resort, and I'm not the owner of a hotel."

"Because…!" She was at a loss.

"Toga, just two months and some change ago, you were killing people freely, and now you say it feels wrong? Sorry, but I can't accept that, much less so when you sought my help when the police knocked on your door."

"I know that it doesn't make a whole lot of sense–"

"So that's proof you haven't really changed! You're just making up excuse after excuse, and even putting yourself through unnecessary pain by denying your natural urges."

"They're not excuses, I'm telling the truth! I can't–"

He raised a hand, shrugging her off and interrupting her. "You're lying to yourself, and even a stupid child could see that, Toga," he objected, "You're molding yourself after some ideal you know you'll never be able to reach."

A headache was starting to form. She shook her head. "No, I'm telling you, it's not like that–"

The knife could be plunged just a little deeper, and Giran discreetly smirked. He denied her attempts at convincing.

"Spare me your senseless justifications, Toga. You failed at holding your beliefs and accepted that you're a monster."

"No, that was a different Himiko. I'm a different person now!" she snapped, getting desperate, eyes welling up.

He snorted. "What the hell are you talking about?" Giran retorted, finding her idea ridiculous, "You've aged a bit, and your wits and your tongue are certainly sharper now, but you're the same person as before. There aren't two of you, there never was, and it frankly astounds me that I'm the one who has to tell you that."

A new bout of anxiousness and fear started to surge inside her chest. She had to fight him back, or else it would mean that Izuku had been wrong about her all along.

"But my quirk, and the thirst… They force me to drink blood. I'm compelled by it, and I didn't have a choice back then, when I let these things take control of my actions. It was like I turned into someone else," she reasoned, unwittingly sounding like a hopeless convict in the death row, waiting for their sentence to be carried out.

It was almost absurdly comical to Giran, so he had to put her in her place.

"Like some Jekyll and Hyde scenario? Stop that, Toga, it won't get you anywhere. No amount of dissociating will erase anything you've done. You slaughtered all those people and bled them like pigs in a butcher shop because you wanted to."

"You forced my hand!" she barked, defensive.

Giran actually, loudly, laughed at that assertion, stunning Himiko again.

"You honestly can't be serious," he began, "Yeah, I admit that I used you back then, but I simply told you to murder people. It was you who decided, out of your own volition, to gleefully slash their windpipes open while giggling, to lick their wounds, and to cut in places you knew blood would come spurting out more violently."

Each reminder was like a bucket of freezing water being thrown over Himiko, and she couldn't see Giran eye to eye. He wasn't finished just yet.

"Toga, it was you who thought it was a great idea to transform into another person entirely, and then use your new appearance as a disguise to stab in cold blood someone that wasn't even a threat to you at the time. And what of all the killings you committed before and after we met? I certainly didn't have a hand in them."

She fell to her knees once more, incapable of keeping up her struggle. This was all true, in the end. She was having the time of her life, free from oppression, till she met Izuku, and her world was turned upside down. So maybe, just maybe, she shouldn't have been so eager to throw everything to the wind for someone she had just met…

'Now, time for the mercy shot,' Giran smugly thought while eyeing Himiko's desolate, miserable figure, whimpering on the cold stone floor. He carefully approached her and crouched down, so they were on the same level.

"Himiko," he said, freely using her first name in a show of friendship, "it's not the end of the world, because you still have a place right here. After all, didn't you become friends with Oogama?" She nodded weakly. "And I can't really speak for the others, but I'm sure that if you give the chance, you'll also warm up to Samehada, at the very least. Sakyou… is kind of a lost cause," he said, grimacing.

Somehow, that earned a low giggle from Himiko. "Yeah, Honoka complains about him all the time."

Himiko's laughter and acknowledgement was music to his ears, and Giran almost had to stop himself physically from pumping a fist. He snorted, and said, "Yeah, Sakyou's an asshole."

"I have a feeling he hates me."

"It would be easier to ask who he doesn't hate." He offered her a hand, and she gingerly grabbed it. He helped her up, and tapped her on the shoulders once. "Sorry if I was a bit blunt. But I promise, Toga, I'm only looking out for the best for you this time," he said softly.

She shook her head. "No, it's okay. I guess I was hiding from the truth this whole time."

He smiled, then snapped his fingers, like he was struck by a thought. "Oh, right! I should say that I offered an invitation to Magne as well, and we should meet up with her soon. She was finally able to flee from Hokkaido."

Himiko grinned widely at the news. However, suddenly there was a low thud coming from the hallway, and the door to Himiko's room blasted open, followed by a shrieking Honoka falling on her face on the floor. Giran and Himiko at first watched in astonishment as she fell, but then cringed as she flailed for a bit on the ground before getting up.

"Charon, what is the meaning of this?" Giran interrogated sharply.

Honoka looked like a deer in the headlights. She made a sorry face, and hid her hands behind her back, giggling awkwardly. "Um, err, I was kind of… listening in?" She stuck her tongue out playfully.

Giran squinted. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to make sure you were not mistreating Himiko. And you said a lot of awful things to her, you meanie! It won't surprise me if she now decides to leave!" Honoka replied loudly, her mood doing a one-eighty, the woman now staring at him furiously.

'What the…' Giran thought in bewilderment.

"Wait, you were… worried for me?" Himiko interjected, curious.

Honoka glanced at her, surprised. "What? Of course, Himiko! Aren't we friends now?"

Himiko smiled, and giggled softly. "Yes, I guess we are. And don't worry, I'm not leaving any time soon."

Her eyes became wide again, but she had to confirm. "Wait, so does that mean that… you're part of the team?" Honoka asked.

Himiko mulled that over for a few seconds, then nodded. "I'll take it easy for now, but I think I am where I belong. So... Yes." She barely had time to blink before she was taken in a bear-crushing hug by Honoka, the woman uttering a bunch of colorful expletives in glee.

Watching the heart-warming scene between the two volatile and whimsical ladies unfolding in front of him, Giran crossed his arms, smirking.

"Welcome back, Toga," he said, victorious.


Notes: Hey, as usual, a much longer wait than I wanted... Anyways, in case it wasn't clear enough, the whole of part 1, as well as both scenes with Niijima in this chapter take place in the same night. The part that concerns Himiko takes place around 2 weeks later.

Anyways, CHARACTER REGRESSION! Who woulda thunk it? Well, this was always planned, dear reader, so it's not a twist that I pulled out of my ass just for drama. Um... did it make sense? I tried my best, and I definitely could have foreshadowed things better, but I hope you liked it. Oh yes, the bit with Niijima and Nagant had been baking from the beginning as well. It's probably obvious now, but Nagant will be much more prominent, just not right now.

Next chapter will have a small time skip, and we'll see how Toshinori and Izuku have been mending their friendship and how Himiko has been holding up with her new "family".

Stay tuned!

Oh yeah, this site, for whatever reason, now does not send notifications via email by default, so if you want to keep receiving updates from my story and any other stories you guys, gals and nonbinary readers have been following, be sure to check the box inside your profile's settings. The box says "Yes, I want to receive email notifications." or whatever, I didn't want to ctrl c + ctrl v it. Anyways, thanks for the wait, as always!