Chiyo Tsutomi needed a startling amount of catering to feed her insatiability.

The woman who rehearsed her first lessons the weekend before school began, who stumbled over concrete and hiccuped in All Might's presence like a dumbstruck schoolgirl, certainly didn't appear similar to the dragon lying next to him now, finally contended into a peaceful slumber.

She hadn't even given him a moment to call her bluff last night before her body left his, movements fluid out the door. The shower kicked on and fifteen minutes later she was lounging on the couch in a T-shirt she must've found in the bathroom, teasing him with a knowing smile and those bare legs.

He couldn't remember the movie they enjoyed together; just the smell of his own shampoo clinging to her hair and the warmth of her skin against his. The goofy way she snickered, like soft hyperventilating.

Then the film ended and she turned and suddenly they were back in his bedroom, a mess of limbs and quick breath and urgency, exhausting one another until his muscles felt like taffy and her hair grew tangles, sticking to her dewy, grinning face about the edges.

And that seemed the end of it, until somewhere near dawn she snuggled against him, reawakening his body before consciousness could fully seep through. Insightful green eyes watched him, black body wrapped around his mother's head like some dark queen's halo, before Chiyo herself stirred, twisting around to face the disturbance. An apologetic explanation rose in his throat, too slow as curious fingers went to investigate.

"Beat it, Nasu," She demanded of her crown.

Shota Aizawa wasn't sure if it was due to the smaller bed in her apartment or simply being accustomed to sleeping alone, but the drowsed woman had quickly wormed her way into the very middle of the blankets, legs bent together like a pretzel and one hand bizarrely half-raised onto her pillow. She seemed quite unbothered in her bed-hogging and breathed deeply through her open mouth, oblivious of how totally ridiculous she looked. At least her sleep-heavy limbs were easy enough to maneuver; he folded her star-fished arm over and then there was just enough space for him to lie comfortably enough next to her, albeit dangerously close to the edge.

Nasu eventually stealthed his way back in. Black paws were careful as they stepped across Chiyo's torso to nestle between their bodies with a purr like a white noise machine. Chiyo huffed at the movement, finally closing her gaping mouth before her body twisted into yet another ridiculous position, fetal on her side. The cat let out another wave of purring, balling between her close-together limbs like he'd planned the whole reaction.

Light eyes cracked open, caught him staring.
They blinked sleepily.
"You're not going to make me get up and train today, right?"
He wouldn't- couldn't- leave this bed even if he tried.
"You skipped yesterday, too. Your dedication is truly appalling, Tsutomi."
He wondered what she saw when she looked in the mirror. If she knew what she looked like to him.

Nasu lolled about with her movement. Dark hair covered a pale arm as she drew in close, body still blissfully warm from sleep.

"I can submerse faster than you can cancel my quirk, Eraserface. You are powerless against me."

She was partly correct.
On which part, he didn't comment.

Instead he marveled at the sensation of her smile on his neck before she swept them both under her spell, cancelling out the world for a few more perfect hours.


Chiyo Tsutomi needed to be dealt with.

Ever since the failed attack when the wretch fell before him, pathetic watering eyes wide with fear and inexplicable knowing, she had burdened his skin with lice.

She was just another hero sympathizer, enslaved by principles of good and justice, working alongside the other trash at Japan's most prestigious school of fraudity. She was a nobody; not even an oh-so noble hero like her playmates.

She had looked at him as if she knew him- a familiarity he did not share.
A wave of spider legs waltzed across his skin. He tore them away, eyes never leaving the computer screen.

Why?

Worse yet, his master seemed intrigued. By this weak, hideous vermin, who wasn't worth the half breath it took to say her name, let alone precious time in pursuing her meaningless existence.

But the way she had looked at him.

It didn't matter what Master said.
She was abhorrent; a blight in the already-decayed world.

And it was his right to take out anything and everything he hated.

"Tomura Shigaraki,"
He sensed the presence from the shift in the air, annoyed by both the interruption and Kurogiri's consistent habit of stating his full name.

"This better be good; I hate pointless cutscenes."
The wavering miasma waited until he turned, insisting on his full- albeit irritated- attention.
"We have discovered the true identity of the woman known as Chiyo Tsutomi."


Chiyo Tsutomi needed protecting.

He had spent half the night wallowing in shame and fury more volatile than arsenic. Eraser had prompted him, time and time again, to tell her the truth; why hadn't he?

Because of the fear that paled her skin at the hospital that night. The way her face, usually so cheerful, was distorted by a collage of purple and yellows, telling him the world needed All Might now more than ever before.

This, however, did nothing to justify his reaction when her eyes caught on his chest, looking straight through his clothing to the gnarled flesh beneath.

It was just air. Chiyo had been unharmed, blown by the flick of his finger, but he had struck her all the same.

All Might, the number one hero in the world, attacking the very woman he'd sworn to protect when she got too close.

Their fight still rang in his ears like a siren. She didn't understand. What was worse- Aizawa seemed to support her ignorance, staying silent when she proposed handling the situation herself.

Hannei Tsutomi wasn't in a single database on record- for quirks, Japan's, or otherwise. Several called-in favors produced nothing on the woman. This was more than misfiled paperwork; Hannei Tsutomi had gone well out of her way to never be found.

Where had her income come from? She had to have a bank account, an occupation, something to follow.

The air was chilled, near freezing as he all but flew across the night, landing with the grace of a cat before UA's faculty entrance.

Had Eraser Head not accompanied her, there was no way he would have let Chiyo confront her mother- a mother Toshinori felt in his bones indeed wielded some sort of power over her own daughter.

The building was ghostly at night. His heavy steps echoed down the barren halls before he entered the admin office, dousing the room in the blue light of the database's main computer.

He professed his belief in Chiyo's abilities. His words were as genuine as the threat of violence she'd promised him.
The keyboard tapped out his new hunch, spurred by a comment she had made seven hours earlier.

It hadn't been much- there was no guarantee her mother had lived around here- but going off their previous conversations about her unknown father, the cafe her mother seemed to frequent, he could narrow the search down to a single district, highlighting by date and physical profiles.

Namely, around the year of Chiyo Tsutomi's birth.

Domestic Abuse Cases: 256
Suspects currently held in custody: 51

Reporting within years chosen- Keywords PREGNANT, MUSUTAFU:
Cases: 2

The wraiths of memory dwelling in the crevices of the school, beneath the tiles, behind opened doors, roared from their hiding spots, consumed the space until he could barely breathe.

Hero on duty - filing report: Sorahiko Torino


Chiyo Tsutomi needed guidance.

Her entire life sat on the point of a needle; one wrong turn, a breath too strong, and she would slip, pierced through by her own self-indulgences.

Some children were born with fire and wolves in their blood; Chiyo bore deep, soundless water, caught between the ocean's shadowed bed and its surface, graced only by the moon's pale light.

When she surfaced, filled the void with her wail, everything made sense again.

She was her meaning, her purpose in life.

Keeping her safe. Keeping her well, and happy. Never allowing the spindly fingers of their shared past to reach out of the water's darkness and pull them back in.

She loved him; the way she blushed, looked away when he smiled at her. He in turn displayed the very same features; both too naive to recognize what their eyes so clearly expressed.

It would be painful for her- for both of them.

But when the glass fell, destined to shatter into a hundred pieces no one could ever put back together, Chiyo had.

She had almost missed it, the way the liquid swirled.

Through whatever vein, Hannei Tsutomi would protect her daughter from the depths of that water.

No matter the cost.


I needed to get a grip.

If I didn't my heart would surely burst out from my chest, ruin these original hardwood floors, and I would die, never having slept more than a single night in Shota Aizawa's arms.

Well, near him and in the same bed, at the very least.

He seemed regretful for his earlier teasing after I roused him around noon, demanding a quick training session now that we (I) were fully awake.

Stupidly, I hadn't brought a secondary set of clothing with such an idea in mind.
Wonderfully, Shota provided a pair of athletic shorts and told me to keep the shirt I'd so cleverly (obviously) stolen to sleep in (and never return).

Everything he did seemed overly sensual now; the movement of his shoulders, how he lazed on the couch, ignoring my demands to go outside to practice submersion until I dragged him by the ankle.

Had I felt like this before, with others? Everything felt more intense, like someone had turned up the vibrancy until colors seemed sharp enough to taste. How would I be able to concentrate at school, feeling the movement of his lungs, his heart, just across the hall?

A particularly swift kick knocked my legs out from under me. And, since this was training and not a romantic moment locked elsewhere in the apartment, Eraserbreath didn't even attempt to catch me.

"You force me to put clothes on, then can't even focus," He griped. I remained on the ground for a moment, trying to collect the stars in front of my eyes. "Eliminate all distractions from your mind and focus on your opponent."

Kind of a conundrum, I thought with a sigh.
...Or spoke out loud, considering the way Shota's mouth suddenly curved.

He offered a hand and I slapped it aside, indignant, before taking another stance.
"I've been thinking of a new technique."
"Oh?"
I felt the difference in his attacks; they came down more forcefully, testing my conviction.
"Everyone has their ultimate move, right? Whiteout shouldn't be any different."

His new favorite method was activating erasure randomly, forcing me to change tactics and maneuver through the attacks rather than dispel them. The glow of his eyes dulled back to their liquid grey as something skittered across his lips.

"You're not actually calling yourself that...are you?"
"What? Embarrassed by your new favorite sidekick?" I rose into my ninja-mantis pose with a grin. "It could be the name of my new secret move."
"Alright. Show me."
"Maybe you should get a pillow for me to hit, or something-"
"I'll be fine; just show me."
"Hold your hand up."

Shota obliged. I bounced on the palms of my feet, psyching myself up.

There are two major blood vessels in the forearm and hand- the radial and ulnar arteries. I'd spent fifteen years controlling their flow until their movement was as easy as breathing; I knew their patterns, the thickness of their fragile containments.

It felt like ice shooting into my veins when I forced the blood, hardened the muscles and skin of my hand for impact.

The ice splintered through my lungs and I gasped upon landing the attack. Shota let out a shout of surprise, stumbling over himself and cradling his arm.

Whoa.

I observed my own shaking hand. The skin held the same pallor it always did, fingers deftly answering my brain's call to motion.
It worked.
The frozen medley of blood returning to a normal pace wasn't overly pleasurable, but manageable. But it worked.

"Shit, Chiyo." Shota hissed.
And then my brain slowly recognized what had just transpired.
I let out another noise of surprise, hurrying over to where my victim kneeled.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I told you maybe we should've used a barrier-"
"Well I didn't think you were going to try and break my hand-"

Panic hiccuped into my chest. "I can- do you want me to call 119? Is there a special quirk-related emergency line? I bet Recovery Girl-"

"It's okay-."

I was halfway into the apartment before I stopped, rushing back to assess his hand. "What do I even say? Do you think it's really broken?" A new thought trembled across my brain; I had used my quirk against another person, unlicensed, unthreatened.
Holy shit.

I shook myself; Shota's hand was practically the shade of a plum. This wasn't the time to be selfish. "I can-"
He covered my mouth with his uninjured hand, looking exasperated.

"Will you stop talking if I let you go?"
I nodded, though the gummy-sobby feeling was festering in my throat. Did crying count as talking?

"My hand isn't broken. You just took me by surprise." Shota held his injury out for me to see, looking interested. "How did you do this?"

He released me and immediately a string of gabled words fell out; "Shota, I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to-"

The hand returned to shut me up. I swallowed, tried again.

"I did the opposite of my usual regulation, but focused only on rushing the blood of my right arm and hand. By "hardening" the water in my skin cells, like I did to stand on the lake, I was able to take on the impact without injury,"
Though it could've gone awry so easily. If I had used too much force, split open one of the major arteries or accidentally submersed into his hand, we both could've ended up with horrifying injuries.

The grass was warm in the afternoon sun, tickling under my legs. This would've been a nice day for a picnic in the nearby park.
Instead we sat fifteen feet from his apartment, marveling at his slowly-cooling hand. If anything he seemed fascinated.

"You came up with this on your own?"
"No, there's a DIY recipe book of quirks online, didn't you know?"

I wondered if he ever actually shaved or if his facial hair really was just that sparse, watching the bristles gleam with his scowl. I smiled.

"I started thinking of offensive moves since the first day at the lake. Well, since the USJ attack, but it wasn't until recently that I considered the actual mechanics," Shota gave a little snort when I struck another tv-martial-arts pose, cross legged on the ground beside him. "Special move: white it out."

"We'll have to up your regimen accordingly."

The grass laughed as I tried to stand, caught a foot in my borrowed, too-long shorts, and crash landed back into their green tendrils. "What?"

Shota rose easily, mocking me with his agile ability to do the mundane. He offered his hands to help me up. A mean little smugness curled his lip. "On a scale of one to ten on how hard I've been training with you, I'd say we were at a solid two."

Two?!
"Two?!"
Both my brain and mouth shouted. The smugness inflated to a haunting grin.

"Prepare yourself, Chiyo Tsutomi."


If this was a taste of what was to come, maybe I'd do better as the locked-away damsel in a far-off tower, killing time with a hefty supply of junk food, video games, and books while I waited for my prince. My muscles cried like heartbroken teenagers as I fumbled to fit my apartment key in the lock, Nasu piteously meowing in my arms all the while.

Then again, every punch, push-up, and submersion seemed utterly worth it when his grey eyes crinkled, singing a surprising praise after a nimble move on my part.

The saturation of the world returned to a normal level when I drove away, mouth lightly stinging after our lengthy good-bye.

Nasu wandered into the darkened apartment, probably to check his food bowl, and I sent another quick text to Manami. I would have to call her again later, having received her voicemail in the car and needing someone to help dissect the newest development addling my chest with prisms of light and warmth.

A low growl pulled my attention away. I deleted the strands of messages before following the route Nasu had taken. Another growl, louder this time, resounded from the living room.

"Nasu-"

In my fatigue I hadn't even felt another presence, sitting comfortably on my beat-up, second hand couch, watching with a pleasant smile as I entered.

"Hello there."


Author's Note: Tomura's always referencing games. I really enjoyed the pointless cutscene comment. I also really enjoyed writing this chapter and all the various perspectives of Chiyo. Things are really spicing up!