Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas!

Whatever Tomura's planning, it can't be good for anyone.

Except me.

The last couple of days, he's barely spent any time with or around me, only returning to feed me and at night cuddle and sleep. The relief from his lack of presence is a small thing, not even worth mentioning, but the fact that he doesn't touch me beyond casual caresses and without sexual intent is.

Meanwhile, I'm preparing.

With the outing that's coming up soon—though I don't know exactly when—my wish to die is becoming closer to reality, and I've decided that it's important that I make sure I'm in a position to escape when it happens. Right now, I'm even weaker than when I had tried to escape the first time. That has to be rectified.

Even if the end result is the same as if I fail—my death—there's something appealing about dying by my own hand, under my own power, and not having the life stolen from me, especially not by the person who's stolen everything else. He's taken away all that I have—but he can't take away this.

I fall back into the pattern that I had been taught upon magically appearing in this world. Kato Dan is someone I had sought out early, an award-winning martial artist with a quirk that made him a beast at body-building. I had tracked him down as soon as I realized my quirk and its implications and had begged him to train me. It had taken a few weeks of begging, and then another month of extreme training to prove myself, but he had eventually accepted me as an apprentice.

I hadn't learned nearly enough from him at the time of my kidnapping. I wish I had cut hours at Old Games to train more.

With my quirk, my muscles heal as fast as they're used, the microtears made by exercising repairing themselves instantly, making it simple enough to build strength and stamina. It's almost like my body wants me to be in the best shape possible. I had had the idea to use my strength early on to break my chains and escape that way, but however long ago that was, Tomura had kept a keen eye on me and had brought my body building attempts to a halt long before they culminated into anything. After my first escape attempt failing so spectacularly, I had given up on it all. I could only fight close-combat and Tomura had all the advantage. The pain of decay was enough to incapacitate anyone, and with my quirk, he's never been afraid to use it on me.

It's different now. I'm not escaping to live. I'm escaping just long enough to die.

Since that first and so far only orgasm, something is broken. I can feel it, like something important has been shattered. I can't go so far as to call it hope—I haven't had that in a long time. Just another thing Tomura has stolen from me. Maybe it's an important foundational stone to my sanity, which would certainly make sense.

The problem is that none of the pain of that missing piece is in my head, not even my chest. I can feel it pounding away with my heart, like a physical piece of it has left. It's like… my aorta's been removed. Or atria. Hell, I don't know anything about heart anatomy, but it feels like it's pumping differently and it hurts.

The change doesn't matter. So what if I have heart problems now? It's not like I'm going to check into the hospital once this is over. But if this is going to be over at all, I have to start training.

I start easy, tracing the longest path around the room that the chain allows. It's lightweight, made from some kind of metal that has always been too sturdy for me to break. That's good in this case, because I don't want to unevenly train my legs. That would make running a bit of a difficulty, and I have enough cards stacked against me as it is.

I spend all day walking, then running. The pain my chest seems to ease a little with the exertion, and while I can't really build up speed, I can build up stamina. I run and run and run, in this tiny bedroom, and then I start adding obstacles: using the bed as a spring in the middle of my run so that my legs get that little extra push.

Afterwards, I'm starving. Dinner should be coming soon, and I'm going to ask for seconds. I'll tell some bullshit lie that having such intense sex last night had made me extra hungry. If it results in another orgasm, well, it's not like I have any lower to go.

Still, I stretch. I vaguely recall some yoga from my past world and work on my core. It's only when the burning from moving turns into outright pain that I know that I'm pushing past my calorie intake and instead burning muscle that I've been building up. I stop immediately.

I take a long, hot shower and rehydrate. Tomura catches me just as I'm putting a fresh change of clothes on. I've already hidden the old, sweat-drenched outfit deep inside the hamper so that he has no reason to be suspicious of my daily activities.

"Hello, Akito-chan," he says, a huge takeout bag in his arms. "You look bright-eyed and bushy tailed today. Happy to see me?"

I don't even have to lie. He has food. "Yeah, I am." But it lacks enthusiasm all the same. "What did you get for dinner?"

"I was feeling a little extravagant," he says, a non-answer. "And you still haven't gained that weight back, so I ordered you extra."

It's subtle, but I can hear a darker undertone under his words. He expects he might have to punish me, and he wants to make sure I'll survive it. The fact that he expects it disheartens me a little, but Tomura, while a man-child, is not an idiot. And I've shown too much defiance these past few months for him to ever build any real kind of trust with me, I think.

After toweling off my hair—it's gotten particularly long, has always grown a little too fast because of my quirk—I settle to sit with him on the bed. Like a child, he seems to scorn sitting at the table like a real adult, so he haphazardly sets out the Styrofoam takeout trays. There's only one for him, an average meal, and five for me.

I eat ravenously, and still keep going even once I'm full. Calories are literally the difference between escape and captivity.

"Tell me something, Akito-chan," Tomura says, leaning back against the headboard with a full stomach. He motions for me to join him and I obediently curl up against him.

"What do you want to know?" I ask dully. Forced conversation with him is the least of his sins against me, but it feels so violating to be expected to share my thoughts with him, so I usually lie.

"What's your favorite gemstone?"

I pause, taken a little aback. "Why?"

Tomura shakes me by my shoulders lightly, a mild indication of irritation. "Just answer the question."

With thinking of a lie, I blurt out, "Emeralds."

"Like your eyes," he hums.

"They're not…" I start to say, then stop. There's no point in arguing. My eyes are a light lime green with a yellow gold tint. Emerald is the last thing they look like.

"Is green your favorite color, then?"

These non-sequitur answers throw me for a loop. "Uh… no."

Sighing, Tomura tightens his grip on my arm and hisses impatiently, "Then what is?"

He's in one of those moods, I realize now. Best to just cooperate. "Red."

He considers me. "Clashes with your coloring," he says noncommittally.

"Cool shades don't," I reply with a shrug. Best to just humor him right now. If he decides he wants to punish me, the calories I'll burn healing will make today's training moot.

He's quiet for a little while, idly playing with my hair while I listen to the heartbeat of an human monster. I close my eyes, wary for any shifting or changes in posture. Reading his moods is especially important when he controls every aspect of my being.

I sink in to misery then. It's all my fault that I thought I could keep safe on my own. Who knows—this could have happened with any villain, even if it's worse that it's Tomura with the power to hurt me so badly. If only someone had cared about me in this world, if only I had reached out instead of being only coworker-friendly with Daichi and avoiding any deeper connections. If only I had put myself out there instead of pitying myself for my unfortunate circumstances, missing home too much to make a life for myself here.

If only someone would save me. If only someone cared that I was missing enough to save me. If only someone had had my back, maybe I'd be able to live free after this. Maybe I wouldn't be traumatized, internally scarred beyond repair. If I had had just one person who cared about me, just one person to protect—

The pain in my heart, previously a dull thudding, suddenly doubles and I cry out, clutching my chest and curling into myself. Tomura immediately sits up and pulls me to him.

"What's going on?" he demands. "What's wrong?" There's genuine concern in his voice, but I'm not sure it's for me.

"Nothing," I grit out, trying to take deep breaths through the pain. What had caused it? It's been steady all day, but it feels like I'm having a heart attack. Maybe I am. I won't die under the sky, but I know for sure that Tomura isn't going to risk taking me to the hospital.

"Bullshit," he swears uncommonly, jumping to his feet. "Stay there and keep breathing. I'll get you some aspirin."

By the time he returns, the pain has mostly passed. Even so, I take the water and the pills. It'd be nice if they could ease the still-constant pain, if only for a little while.

"How are you now?" he asks after fifteen minutes, long enough for the chewable tablets to do something.

"I feel much better," I say, hiding my disappointment that it wasn't actually a heart attack. "I… thanks."

Tomura likes when I show appreciation to him. As if he ever really gives me anything to appreciate. Lies, it's all lies.

"Go to bed early tonight," he tells me. "I'm going to stay up and monitor you, make sure you're really okay."

Fine, if that's what he wants to do. I hope his concern doesn't drag over into to tomorrow, so I can train again. Maybe the exertion is what's causing the chest pain, though I doubt it. On the off chance that it is, there'll be a sick kind of humor in him coming back at night with dinner only to find me sprawled dead on the floor.

That comforting thought has me drifting to sleep, even as the music from that damned NeoGeo Pocket plays in the background.

That night, for some reason, I dream of a strong man lifting me into the air, his arms the most comforting thing in the world. I feel safe, protected, but then I'm falling. I'm caught by soft strips of velvet and land safely in another man's arms. Pulling together, they fold me in an embrace that makes me want to cry—but from happiness.

I wake up the next morning and my heart doesn't hurt at all, but there's a lump in my throat and I wish, I wish so much, that that had been reality.

Either Tomura's not too concerned about my little episode or he's really just that busy, but he leaves me to my own devices. The chest pain returned shortly after the dream faded from memory and I didn't let the relief of my imagination stick around for long. I had work to do.

Now, to strength training. As I do pushups, curls, sit-ups, and the katas that Kato-sensei had taught me, I feel a sort of invigoration. I'm doing something now. I'm fighting back, even if Tomura doesn't know it. Maybe I'm not as helpless as I've led myself to believe, but there is something to be said for Tomura trusting me enough to let me out again.

Everything, I think to myself as I punch the air, has had to lead up to this point.

The chest in my heart seems to ease as I go into defensive maneuvers, then offensive, then back to strength building. At the end of the day, about an hour before I expect Tomura to come back, I cooldown by sprinting as much as I can around the room. Then I repeat yesterday's shower and wait for him on the bed, pretending to have been bored all day without him.

He comes with extra food again. He really wants me to gain that weight back, and little does he know, I am, just not the way he wants. If I can avoid punishment, I'm going to keep all my hard work. It'll be exactly what puts me in the position to escape… and finally die. There's no existing after this.

The next few days go on much in the same way. At one point Tomura makes a complaint about running out of boxers because I've been going through them too fast. Instead of being suspicious, though, he just makes me do a load of laundry in a room just down the hall that doesn't have a window or any way to escape.

What? You thought Tomura wouldn't use me to do the chores a man-child like him would abhor?

But this is a good thing. He can't see the wrinkled, sweat-stained clothing I've been hiding from him. While waiting on the laundry, I use one of the sturdy metal bars used to hang clothes to do pull-ups and curl-ups. Naked, of course. I can't let him see that I've been exercising.

His libido comes back somewhere in the middle of the week, but with everything going on, he seems too preoccupied with his own pleasure and the fake sounds I make to try anything genuinely pleasurable again. As always, that doesn't make it any better.

And then, on a Monday night (as far as I can tell), he comes down with a brown shopping bag and thrusts it at me.

"Here. Make sure it fits."

I can't have been any more confused if I tried, but it makes sense upon seeing the clothing inside the bag. If we're going on an outing, I definitely can't wear his shirt and boxers and pass for normal.

He's gotten me a dark red, form-fitting tank top, some tight black jeans that don't restrict my movement, a pair of knee-high boots, several different bras of different sizes, and a pack of underwear. I can't help but notice that he chose the top in a shade of my favorite color and it makes me feel sick.

"It's just a start," he tells me as I look at the clothing with mixed feelings. "If you behave on this trip, I might start letting you come out with me more, and you'll need more clothes for that."

I nod, little more than an acknowledgement. I don't plan to behave on this trip—I can't take another second with him. But if my chances don't look so good at escaping… maybe behaving will open the doorway to other opportunities.

"Well? Try them on," he huffs impatiently, sitting down on the bed.

Getting up and turning my back to him—he sighs, exasperated at my 'shyness'—I put on some fresh underwear (though I would have rather run it through the laundry first) and then start trying on the bras. When losing that much weight, it was impossible to figure out where my size went. I do find a fitting bra, though, and it's a larger size than I expected, though I'll never be a busty woman with my metabolism and quirk. Fat just burns too quickly.

Once the bra is on, I put on the rest of the clothing. Tomura lends me some socks, and thankfully, the boots are a good fit and not heeled, making it possible to run in them. He couldn't have given me a better outfit to escape in if he tried. The only improvement would be a sports bra, but from my understanding, with an outfit like this, he wants to show me off at least a little. That curdles something in my stomach, and instead of continuing to think about it, I turn and let him appraise me.

He inspects my body much closer than I think he's ever done, and I feel a nervous sweat trickle down my spine when I realize that my strength training is clearly visible. He's going to know I've been preparing, going to know I'm planning to escape, he's not going to take me along—

Tomura squeezes my right bicep thoughtfully, pinkie finger pulled away. "Your quirk really is amazing. You just heal back all your muscle?"

Mutely, I nod, the lie better than the truth.

He slants his red eyes at me, something cold and burning in them. "If you pull anything funny tomorrow, I'm going to give you scars. Do you understand?"

Scars aren't possible unless I'm starved, and even then, they'll heal back to normal eventually. But Tomura's pretty familiar with my quirk by now, so that threat is potent. He could keep me starved long enough that I heal naturally, leaving behind long swathes of thickened, twisted skin from his quirk.

Swallowing hard, I nod again, and start to consider that maybe I do have to play my cards safely. If I can't get a good chance at escaping tomorrow, I have to bide my time. He's so deadly serious that I feel a fresh flash of fear overtaking what's already always present around him.

But it's not over. He goes back to the shopping bag and pulls out a black box. "This is for you," he says, something like anticipation in his eyes. That's never good, and I watch him warily as he opens the box.

Inside, to my utmost surprise, is a silver choker chain with a large emerald at the front and several smaller ones embedded in the intricate metalwork around it. I do my best not to flinch back when he clasps it around my neck, just close-fitting enough to breathe comfortably but tight enough to make me think of it as a collar.

Tomura steps back and takes in the whole ensemble. I fidget, not liking the look in his eyes: it's warm, affectionate, fond. It's like he really, genuinely has some kind of feelings for me and isn't just taking advantage of someone he could put into captivity for him.

And then he smiles brightly, with teeth and crinkled eyes. "I love you, Akito," he says, and pulls me into a kiss. I feel my whole body go cold at the declaration.

I'm just so glad that, as his chosen nighttime activities progress, there's no point where he expects me to say it back to him.

That's a lie I couldn't bring myself to tell.

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