It'd only been a couple of days, but she was ready to kill for a sandwich.

She eyed the perfectly cut ham sandwich behind the glass, not bothering to wipe her drool. She was lucky she could sing because ever since she left home, she'd been relying on the kindness of strangers to get by. Gas stations were especially helpful because she could use the washroom for free and the cashier said nothing as she left completely drenched in water. In a superpowered society, they probably saw loads of weird things every day.

"Hello there, are you hungry?" An elderly came up to her, smiling warmly. "Where are your parents?"

"They're in the park across the street," she said, gaze fixed on the sandwich. "They're taking care of my little sis while I explore."

"I see." Then, after a moment, "Would you like that sandwich?"

See? Kindness.

Ten minutes later, she was in the park scarfing down lunch. She licked her fingers clean, stomach growling. Her feet ached, but she couldn't stop moving. After what happened, the police were searching for her and she couldn't allow herself to get caught. Nothing good happened to people who couldn't control their quirks.

She jerked to attention at the sound of a bell. It took a moment to realize it came from the System.

𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛!

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚊 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚔𝚘 (𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝚃𝚘𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚊)

𝙰𝚐𝚎: 5

𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚔: 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚢

𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠

She blinked at the words. It wasn't the first time a character profile appeared, the first was Shimura Nana. But it was the first time she had really stopped to consider the development. She pulled up the 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 screen and, just as expected, Shimura Tenko and Shimura Nana were the only characters available for her perusal.

She stood, scanning the crowd. There he was, across the street, with an old woman. The woman reached out to him, but as soon as his face came into full view, that kind smile was replaced with one of fear. She quickly scurried away.

The exchange was eerily similar to a scene in the manga. She opened the 𝙱𝚘𝚘𝚔 screen, confirming the event unfolding before her eyes. If Shigaraki was here, then that meant today, December 11th, was the day he would meet All for One. And, his family, he... She forced down the queasy feeling writhing inside of her.

The streets were packed with people doing Christmas shopping, but nobody took notice of his tiny frame, or if they did, they were ignoring him. The wide berth around him suggested the latter.

She moved closer, noting that up close, his appearance was much more disturbing than illustrated in the manga. Her stomach flip-flopped at the dried blood coating his hand, and the confused, traumatized smile spread across his face. On one hand, it was no wonder people avoided him. On the other, she, who knew his story, felt an angry heat swell in her chest as she took his hand.

Her touch seemed to wake him from his daze. He jerked back, desperately pulling on his arm. She held on tight, unharmed.

A few days before her father — before the incident, she discovered something interesting about her body. No matter how often she got scraped, how many bruises and cuts she collected, her body never scarred. She tested this later by complaining about the pungent smell of beer in the house. In response, her father beat her within an inch of her life. The pain was so great, she almost thought she died a second time.

Five minutes later, she was up and walking again.

Congenital healing, bestowed upon her by the System. She really lucked out this time around. She supposed it had something to do with being a 'Reader', an outside observer able to mess with the story. Or maybe, someone up there really liked her.

Only, she wasn't sure that was true. Changing the story and all.

As she waited patiently for Shigaraki to calm down and stop pulling on her arm, she wondered what she was really doing, approaching him like this. There was no certainty that his story could be changed. The manga hadn't ended yet, but there was no happy ending for the villains. The heroes always won.

Shimura Tenko would grow up to become Shigaraki Tomura, holder of One For All and the Grand Commander of the Paranormal Liberation Front. With his upbringing, such a fate was practically predestined. It was necessary. His actions would propel the plot forward to the inevitable critique the hero community would face. The impact he left would reshape hero society.

And yet...

Her body moved before she even realized. Shimura shook violently against her chest, but she held him tight.

"It's okay," she murmured, eyes stinging. "You won't hurt me. It'll all be okay."

They'd be okay. She would make sure of it.

Shimura never ceased shaking, even after he realized she had a natural healing quirk. His hand trembled in hers as they kept walking, searching for some place safe.

She kept away from alleys and dark areas; All For One would be searching for the boy who dusted his family away. Then there were the police, who were still searching for her. They had to leave the city.

She couldn't help a sigh. What a mess she got herself into.

A dull throb grew in her hand as she held onto Shimura. In the back of her mind, she wondered about the regeneration time of her healing, but her focus was elsewhere. She sang as many songs as she could remember to calm him down, but there weren't many. Luckily, Everything Stays seemed to do the trick, loosening his tiny grip on her hand.

Eventually, they came to the outskirts of the city. They slipped through the trees into the forest. Nobody followed them.

After some more walking, they found an akiya sitting all by its lonesome in an empty field. The house seemed decades old. The wooden porch creaked under their feet as they approached, but the walls stood tall, intact despite its obvious neglect. The blue-tiled roof, perhaps once a bold sight, was now a stormy grey.

Goosebumps rose on her arms. It seemed far too convenient to happen upon a house in the middle of the woods. It looked abandoned, but nothing was damaged. Recalling the story of Hansel and Gretal, she made Shimura wait outside as she investigated.

Her blistered feet cried impatiently for some place to rest, but she carefully examined her surroundings. The house was small, more like a cabin really. The furniture was quilted with dust. The cabinets were stocked with plates and kitchenware, suggesting it was still being used, but the irori was cold. She hesitated. It'd been some time since anybody came here, but it was obviously occupied. Still, perhaps, if they could...

Two weeks passed, and still nobody came. She and Shimura had long since made themselves at home. The house proved to be safe, isolated from people. She scrubbed the floors clean and dusted the rooms, and all the while, she thought the owner a fool. It was small, yes, but sturdy, and calm and cozy. Why was it in such a state of neglect?

At night, they lit the irori and had tea as she played old world music. Shimura scoffed at her taste, but he clearly had a thing for Mongolian Chop Squad. He was always asking her to play their songs. Before bed, she always played Everything Stays. He never asked, but the absolutely adorable way the song lulled him to sleep was incentive enough.

Christmas soon came and though she didn't have a gift for Shimura, she found gauze in the medicine cabinet. She wrapped it around his pinkie fingers. They stopped holding hands long ago, after she began throwing up blood; it was an obvious sign that they needed some kind of deterrent.

Shimura fidgeted, hesitant to come near. Even with the gauze, he couldn't erase the image of her hunched over the sink coughing up blood. The crimson was a violent contrast to the cool white porcelain, as vivid a memory as it was in real life.

"It's okay to touch me. You need all five fingers to work," she said, rotating her palm parallel to his and interlocking their fingers. When nothing happened, he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "See? All good."

Then they were on the floor, his arms thrown around her neck. She laid on her back, peering at the tiny form pressed against her chest.

"... Thank you," he said, voice muffled in her neck.

She blinked. "No problem, Shimura. This way, you can help with the dishes."

"Ca-call me Tenko."

If she had looked, she would have seen a tomato curled up against her instead of a boy. Fortunately, they were too closely entangled to see each other. Heat crept up her face as she coughed, averting her eyes.

"Only if you call me Ichika," she muttered. "We're both kids, for god's sake."

During the day, she made use of the field to practice her quirk. She sang to herself, experimenting with different volumes and pitches. Tenko kept a safe distance away, but watched curiously from the porch.

Later, after accidentally killing a butterfly, she wondered if she should just stop talking all together.

But, she thought, watching Tenko wince from faraway, this was necessary. Murder of butterflies and all. Her quirk was easy — too easy — to use, a casual lethality that needed to be tamed or the next thing she hurt wouldn't be a butterfly. The image of her father's bleeding corpse flashed in her mind. Repressing a shudder, she laid back, watching the clouds roll by.

Silver lining — an isolated place like this was perfect to practice her quirk.

Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one who thought so.