Author's note:
Welcome to Chapter 1 of Taxes and Taxes! My name is BenchBeYoking, and first off, thank you very much for reading my first little BNHA Fanfiction, there are many like it, but this one is mine. Please leave a review if you like (or dislike) anything you read, I'm still growing and learning as a writer and every comment or criticism is a chance for me to improve. I hope the story can speak for itself, and you all have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Without further ado, enjoy the chapter!
Warning: Blood and Mild language follow.
Lazarus stood, catching his breath in the early afternoon sun. His nose twitched as the smell of aging oil and rust invaded his nose; However, he knew he couldn't let his guard down, not for a second. Lazarus lowered his centre of gravity and moved forward, watching his feet on the uneven pile of junk below him. Before realizing going slow was pointless as he slid the rest of the way down the slope. Lazarus reached the bottom with a hollow thud as he connected with the discarded hood of a car, the towers of junk obstructed his view on every side. He winced as he heard the sound as it reverberated around the yard, the echo ending any semblance of stealth he had created.
Lazarus flicked his switchblade out.
"Hanta?" Lazarus called out as he spun around, gesturing wildly as he did, watching the light reflect off his blade and dance along the junk that surrounded him. Lazarus knew Hanta wasn't going to pop out and sit down for tea, but he still felt it was worth a shot.
Lazarus stepped behind the rusted shell of an old pickup truck and sunk to the ground, still watching the massive piles of junk all around him for movement. His eyes darted around the arena, he knew Hanta had mobility over him, he needed to be aware that he could attack from any side and any angle at any time. He felt for his cube, still secure in his back pocket as it always was, and he chuckled. His heart was racing.
"What's so funny?" Hanta asked, Lazarus looked up to see Hanta dangling from a long string of tape above him. Lazarus blinked slowly.
"I'm screwed aren't I?" Lazarus said as he sighed.
Hanta smiled widely, saying nothing as he bent his non-gripping arm and hit Lazarus squarely in the chest with tape; Consequently, Lazarus could do nothing but drop his switchblade and groan as Hanta spun him around, entangling him helplessly. When Hanta dropped to the ground and placed his hands on his hips, Lazarus had already accepted his fate as the world's least decorative Christmas present.
"No fair." Lazarus pouted dramatically, squirming in an attempt to escape, "I can't reach you when you scale the terrain like that." Hanta frowned and made a 'I can't hear you' motion, Lazarus swore when he realized he had probably switched back to English, "Sorry!" He spoke, focusing on remaining in Japanese.
"You need some help there?" Hanta asked, walking over and picking up Lazarus's Switchblade. Lazarus nodded slowly as Hanta carefully cut him out of the bonds. Lazarus took a moment to stretch out his arms and crack his neck, "You know," Hanta continued, "I'm starting to think I need a new sparring partner, what's the score now? Twenty-two to zero?" Hanta leaned in, his playfully mocking tone not lost on Lazarus.
"Dude, quit it." Lazarus couldn't keep the bitter defeat out of his voice as he shook himself out, trying to keep his temper cool as he was reminded yet again of how poorly he had performed over the last two weeks since he had started training with Hanta. Hanta however, still seemed to have a few more shots to take at Lazarus.
"Hey, maybe if you actually used your Quirk you might have a chance against me," Hanta laughed as he pointed, "If you keep hiding it, UA might end up thinking you're quirkless-" Lazarus snapped.
"I'm not quirkless!" Lazarus yelled as he slammed his fist down on the hood of the car; However, the brittle hood caved on contact, causing Lazarus's fist to painfully rake against several sharp, rusted edges. Lazarus grunted as he quickly pulled his hand away, several bright red lines on the back of his hand already slowly beginning to leak blood.
Hanta instantly jumped forward. "Lazarus! Are you alright?" Lazarus turned away, taking a deep breath as all the mocking in Hanta's tone was instantly replaced by concern.
"I'm fine. I just need to walk it off." Lazarus began to walk away, as Hanta began to quickly jog to keep pace.
"Walk it off? Come on, let's go back, you might need to get a shot or something." Hanta tried to use reason, but Lazarus had already decided on what he was doing.
"Leave me alone Hanta, I just need to clear my head." Lazarus's tone was sharp and crisp. Hanta froze behind him, clearly unsure of what to do. Lazarus let his shoulders relax, the tension building up in them released somewhat. Lazarus turned back to face Hanta, knowing that he had let his temper get the better of him.
"Sorry," Lazarus began, "I'll be fine. I just need some fresh air." Lazarus turned back around and continued to walk off, not waiting for Hanta to respond.
"I thought you had gotten lost." The masked boy quipped as Lazarus burst into the room, his breathing ragged and labored. Lazarus looked at him with a mix between amusement and animosity.
"You could have told me that the top floor of the meeting spot was up fourteen flights of rickety stairs, you know?" Lazarus panted, holding up a finger to silence the other boy before he could respond, "I could have died, or worse, missed the meeting, then where would you be without your partner and or personal meat shield?" He smiled up at the boy, who simply chuckled and shook his head. Lazarus watched the boy push the blond hair popping out over the top of his mask back into place, the simple old-school horror-flick hockey mask had been painted black and a see-through blue fabric had been placed over the eyes to obscure them.
"Hey, you still made it in time, so all's well that ends well." The boy turned around and cocked his head towards the door, "Get your mask on Lich, we have some business to attend to."
Lazarus reached behind him, his hand caressed his cube as his fingers passed over it, before he grabbed onto the mask he had hung on his belt. Holding it in his hand, it was identical to the boy's mask, other than the fact that it had red fabric over the eyes instead. Carefully slipping it over his head, he nodded once to the boy. The boy nodded back.
"Let's go raise some hell." The boy laughed as they both stepped towards the door, before he reached out and placed a hand on Lazarus's chest. The Boy turned to face him, a sudden seriousness in his voice and demeanor.
"Oh, and try not to use your Quirk this time if you don't have to."
Lazarus flexed his injured hand as he rested it in a loose grip. He knew he'd have to go apologize and explain himself to Hanta sooner or later. He hated that he knew for a fact Hanta did nothing wrong, but the knowledge didn't make his volatile feelings any less present in his mind. He took a moment to breathe as his eyes drank in the scenery. The cityscape around him blended together in his mind, the greys and splotches of muted colours and the scents of the city had already become nothing but a dull footnote in the back of his senses.
He stopped completely as he let his mind finally de-stress, he felt like shouting, but he didn't want to cause a scene. Reaching into his back pocket, he took out his cube and held it, the 3' by 3' cube fitting comfortably in his hand as he sat down on the empty sidewalk. He felt the tension in the cube. He loved having the cube and he hated having it at the same time. He couldn't lie to himself, his cube always let him know what he was truly feeling in his heart.
Lazarus began to reflect on what exactly he had done. He had jumped on a plane, left everyone he knew and loved behind to go to a school he knew nothing about in a country he had never been to. He had abandoned his achievable ambitions to go follow some fantasy dream job. He had run, run away from it all. He had just found a place where he had a group of people who accepted him and his quirk and he spat on their years of generosity and kindness by leaving them. He had failed them. He-
Lazarus sudden felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Sorry." Lazarus apologized before Hanta could say a word, turning as he stood to face the concerned face of his...
Lazarus realized he still didn't know how to refer to Hanta, his sparring partner? His acquaintance? Some guy who's destined to work at a BDSM dungeon?
"Hey," Hanta's voice snapped Lazarus out of his thoughts, bringing his attention fully onto Hanta, "Look, I didn't mean to set you off like that, I'm really sorry if I said something that struck a nerve. I guess I need to watch my mouth more, please forgive me Lazarus" Lazarus was caught completely off guard by Hanta's genuine apology.
"Ah," Lazarus nodded, as he tried to buy time to assemble his thoughts coherently, slipping his cube back into his pocket, "That's not your problem." Lazarus cursed his lack of language skills, "I mean, It's my problem, not yours, I've got some issues to work though." Lazarus laughed, but he could tell Hanta wasn't satisfied.
"Lazarus, if you're upset with me, please say something," Lazarus suddenly found the ground incredibly interesting, "You're...I may not know you that well, or, at all past sparring and tutoring, but I consider you a friend. I don't want you to think I think otherwise." Lazarus felt his heart metaphorically drop at Hanta's words.
"Lazarus?" Hanta spoke, Lazarus looked up to meet Hanta's eyes, Lazarus could feel tears pricking at the edges of his eyes.
"Man, why do you have to be so hard to hate? My life would be so much easier if you were just an asshole." Hanta smiled at the playful words. Lazarus wiped away the almost-tears with his non-injured hand. Lazarus pointed down the dimly lit alley beside him, "Come on, we'll cut through here and get home in no time." Lazarus smiled as he began to jog back home. Hanta trying yet again to catch up with his friend. Looking far less sure than Lazarus was about their way back.
"Not to doubt your navigation skills, but…" Hanta looked at each of the looming grey walls on either side of them, "This seems a little bit shady, doesn't it?"
"It's not hot enough out to bother worrying about Shade, Hanta." Lazarus said, causing Hanta to groan.
"I mean, doesn't this just scream 'rob us please!' to you?" Hanta's words caused Lazarus to slow down and really look at the alley, they were about half-way down the long stretch of side-road littered with garbage and banged up garbage bins. While it was still bright enough to see clearly, there didn't seem to be much traffic around either end, causing the Alley to in fact be the perfect place to do something you didn't want people seeing, like a mugging.
"You know. I'm starting to agree with you Hanta." Lazarus admitted.
"I too agree with you all!" A third, distinctly feminine, voice spoke, causing both Lazarus and Hanta to look at each other; consequently, Hanta was wearing a deep set expression of 'I told you so' and Lazarus had on an equally deep 'I was in fact told so.' expression.
Lazarus turned to see a sixteen or seventeen year old girl, in tattered clothes, pop out of a large green garbage bin behind him like some sort of really dirty jack in the box; if a jack in the box had wild black hair and fingernails the size and shape of meat cleavers.
Lazarus turned again when he heard a rustling from the other side, and saw two other girls, both roughly the same age as the first, maybe younger, quite literally emerge from the shadows. The taller girl of the two had raven black hair, as well as pitch black eyes to match, though she was slightly better dressed than the first, though not by much. The shorter one had very long black hair, with both of her hands stuffed into her stained grey hoodie's pockets, the hoodie itself was almost comically too big for her.
"Aw crap!" Hanta groaned as he placed his head in his hands, "I just got this new smartphone too!"
The eyes of Fingernails lit up. "Oh? A new smartphone! That could fetch a pretty penny!" She hopped out of the garbage can and carefully brushed herself off, winking at Hanta, "Thanks sweetie for telling us!"
Lazarus looked at Hanta with a mix of disappointment and sympathy, "They probably would have just asked for our wallets if you didn't say anything." Hanta moaned in anguish again, doomed by his own big mouth, as Lazarus gently patted him on the back.
The taller girl tilted her head and stared directly at Lazarus, "You seem pretty okay with this whole situation."
Lazarus simply shrugged, "Not the first time I've been mugged in an alleyway while walking home." Hanta looked at him in shock.
"And yet you continue to try and take shortcuts home?!" Hanta cried. Lazarus shrugged again.
"I'm an impatent guy, what can I say?" Lazarus's comment left Hanta with little more to do then scream helplessly into his hands.
The shortest girl suddenly stood up on her tip-toes and whispered something into the taller girl's ear. The taller girl nodded and patted the younger girl on the head, before facing Lazarus yet again.
"We want your wallets, your phones, and your metal box." Lazarus felt his breath catch in his chest.
"My, what?" Lazarus tried to clarify, hoping desperately he had misheard.
The taller girl shrugged, a mirrored image of Lazarus's own previously nonchalant behavior, "My little sister saw you holding some kind of pulsing metal box, she wants it." The taller girl's face was completely neutral and incredibly serious, but Lazarus had the sneaking suspicion she wanted to smile, "If you didn't pull it out, we wouldn't have asked for it."
Lazarus had nothing else to say, he gripped his cube with white knuckles, he would never give it up.
As if sensing Lazarus's sudden determination, Fingernails spoke up, "Look, you two seem like nice kids, I'm really sorry, but a girl's gotta feed her family, right?" She took a step towards them, further boxing them in, "Let's just get this over with, no one gets hurt, we all go home, okay sweeties?" Lazarus met her eyes, and he saw no room for mercy in them.
"Hanta." Lazarus spoke, keeping his tone even and as calm as possible, "Take this." Lazarus pulled out his cube and placed it in Hanta's palm, hesitating as he let it go.
"Uh, Lazarus, what are you doing?" Hanta spoke, his voice ever so slightly above an inaudible whisper.
Lazarus stepped in front of Hanta as he cracked his knuckles, a sudden fire igniting in his belly, "Get out of here Hanta, you can scale this building no problem with your quirk. Get yourself and my...box, out of here." All three of the girls, plus Hanta, seemed in equal disbelief at what he was saying.
"What?" Hanta awkwardly held Lazarus's cube at his side as he, as well as the muggers-to-be all seemed to be processing what Lazarus was talking about. Lazarus decided to capitalize on their confusion.
Lazarus turned to face Hanta, his face displaying what he hopped looked like confidence, "Relax Hanta, I'm your friend right?" Hanta nodded, Lazarus tried to stay calm and convincing, "I've got this, trust me, but I need your help, if you don't get that box out of here, I'm in trouble." he paused, and saw the conflicting feelings fighting in Hanta's eyes, "Please."
"...Stay safe, I'll be back in a moment with help." Without another word, Hanta bent his elbow and shot a strand of tape up onto the side of the building, leaping as he pulled himself upwards.
Fingernails snapped out of her trance, moving forward, her cleaver-like-nails swinging for Hanta's tape. Lazarus lept forward as well, grabbing her wrist a moment before her fingers could connect with the tape, bringing his knee up as he smashed it into her diaphragm. He felt her cough violently as he brought his leg down, grabbing at the back of her neck as he swept her feet out from under her, bringing her face-first into the cold hard cement with a satisfying crack.
Lazarus turned his head, watching Hanta reach the top of the building, Hanta looked back down, and Lazarus shot him a thumbs up, which Hanta returned swiftly before disappearing from view. Lazarus let out a breath he didn't know he had held onto. Suddenly, a leg connected with his chest, sending him tumbling backwards. He looked up, his eyes locking onto the tall girl who had already bent down to help her sister up. As the fingernail girl stood, Lazarus realized how truly outnumbered he was. The three girls stood in front of him, he was vaguely aware his hand was bleeding again, and that he could attempt to run, but he had a feeling all he'd get for trying was a cleaver between the shoulder blades.
"This could have been really easy." The tall girl sighed as she pulled out a lead pipe, the smallest girl seemed to step away from the other two and bite her lower lip. Lazarus grinned.
"Heh, I may be outnumbered, but I'm not unarmed." Lazarus reached for his switchblade, his hand wrapping around nothingness in his empty pocket.
Lazarus sudden remembered being cut out of Hanta's tape earlier.
"I may," Lazarus began quietly, "Upon further review have found," He paused to give himself a chance to accept his fate, "To be both outnumbered, and unarmed." Lazarus put his hands on his hip and tapped his foot, "This may be painful."
Fingernails dashed forward, clearly intent on ending the fight quickly and painfully. Lazarus dropped his stance and swore in English as balled his fists up and took a jab at the girl. She ducked underneath the blow and 'scratched' at his midsection, Lazarus stepped back, the front of his shirt instantly being eviscerated from the blow. Suddenly, Lazarus head a faint whistle and felt something smash into the back of his kneecap, painfully knocking him to the ground. He turned around just in time to be smashed in the face by the tall girl with the lead pipe.
Lazarus felt his whole world spin around him, he stumbled back onto his feet only to find that the tall girl had disappeared again and Fingernails was charging towards him. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts as he realized he was getting pummeled on the defensive.
Without a second thought, Lazarus charged his assailant right back, throwing his weight behind a massive punch. At the last moment, Fingernails flinched, bringing her hands up to guard her face, which Lazarus punched right through, sending the girl sprawling onto the ground
However, Lazarus grimly noticed punching through the razor sharp nails had torn up his already bleeding hand, and his arm was covered in deep crimson lines, bleeding at an almost alarming rate. Shaking his arm out, he scanned the dirty alleyway. He saw the short girl cowering behind a garbage can, and several broken glass bottles below him, grabbing one of the larger shards of glass, he held it tightly in his hand, ignoring the pins and needles as the glass dug into his skin and cut deep into his palm. Lazarus stretched his neck, his head still pounding, as he waited for the tall girl to show her face.
"Why UA?"
Lazarus didn't have to wait long, he heard the telltale whistle of the lead pipe and dropped to his knees as it flew harmlessly above his head, he turned and locked eyes with the tall girl who had stepped out of the shadows behind him. Suddenly, he thrusted forward with the shard of glass, aiming just beside the girl's head.
"Swing as if you mean to kill…"
Predictably, she overreacted and jerked her head away, dropping her defenses completely. Lazarus felt his numb fingers, still under his control, release the death-grip on the glass shard just enough to flip the point over, returning the grip, the sharp glass point now facing downwards.
"...and strike to mame."
He brought the glass shard into the girl's shoulder, she screamed in pain and dropped the pipe instantly, her arm moving to push his hand away. Lazarus twisted the shard as he forced his hand to let go, before closing his already broken hand into a fist and slammed it into the girl's face, instantly knocking her out.
Lazarus stood, his head still ringing, yet adrenaline and success had temporarily substituted clear thinking. He turned to face Fingernail only to see the smallest girl, standing directly in front of him. This close, Lazarus could tell she was far younger than he had assumed, younger than even he was. She had tears in her eyes as she stood on her tiptoes and reached towards Lazarus's face, wearing such an innocent demeanor, Lazarus realized the danger of the situation a moment too late.
"Stop hurting my sisters please." She whispered as she tapped a single finger against his forehead.
Instantly, the world went black.
Lazarus took a step back, suddenly disoriented, he looked around wildly, for all the good it did him. He was blind, utterly lost in a sea of darkness.
Suddenly, he felt something connect with his face and a dull stinging spread through his cheek. Lazarus futilely raised his hands, trying to guard his face; however, a second, harder blow to the stomach robbed him of his air, which forced him to drop his arms to guard his midsection. Dropping his arms cost him another cutting blow to the face.
Lazarus felt sick and tired, and knew if he wanted to get out of here without dying, he'd need to do what he did best; stay on the offensive no matter what.
He rationalized that it most likely wasn't a good plan to have while bleeding, disoriented and blind, but damn it, it was the only plan he had.
Lazarus dropped his arms completely and waited, as he expected, another blow to his face soon followed, knocking him completely onto the ground. He felt a dull pain as someone began kicking his chest repeatedly, and he imagined that his ribs were probably almost breaking with stress.
He took a moment to remember that not being able to feel pain properly sometimes wasn't an advantage. Then another foot hit his chest and he heard a rib literally crack in his chest, and he remembered why not being able to feel pain properly was an advantage sometimes.
Lazarus suddenly reached out, wrapping both his arms around a leg, or what he hoped was a leg, and without wasting a moment, stood, the darkness still impeding his ability to see who or what he was doing, but thankfully not stopping him from doing it.
He wrapped his good arm around the leg, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of being kicked in the chest repeatedly he forced his already mangled hand to form a fist yet again and slammed it down where he thought the leg's owner was with all his might. Lazarus felt a slightly less-than-dull pain as his sensitive fist connected with cold hard pavement, before lifting his fist again and adjusting his aim slightly to the right. This time, feeling the satisfying give of flesh connecting with flesh. He heard Fingernails scream, and made a mental note that it was in fact Fingernails he was currently fighting.
Lazarus continued to pummel Fingernails relentlessly, refusing to acknowledge his growing fatigue and pain. He felt sharp prickles along his arm again and again, and realized that his arm was probably was being torn to shreds by Fingernails. However, he felt the leg in his death grip begin to relax, she probably didn't have much more fight left in her, he'd just have to keep it up for a little longer.
"I said leave her alone!" A voice screamed, and suddenly Lazarus's world was flooded with colour as he could see again. Lazarus stumbled back, having been shoved by the little girl. He looked down at his bruised and beaten midsection, his shirt practically non existent at this point.
"Your quirk works on touch, huh?" Lazarus squirreled that little bit of information away in his mind for a rainy day. Lazarus found his gaze begin to check in on his body. His left arm was bruised heavily, but otherwise fine, his right arm, however, barely resembled an arm at this point, it was more a collection wounds attached to his body. He tried to flex his hand or bend his elbow, and grimly noted that while he could 'feel' it in his mind, the physical limb made no movements to obey him.
Lazarus groaned as he heard groaning behind him, he turned to see the tall girl rise on unsteady feet, already holding her lead pipe again, he turned back to see the little girl helping Fingernails to her feet, though Fingernails still seemed ready to fight.
"Oh...boy, I am going to beat you within an inch of your life." Fingernails spat, a little trickle of blood running down her chin as she gently pushed off her sister and balanced without her support. Suddenly, she smiled, "Or maybe my sister whom you've stopped looking at will do it for me."
Crap.
Lazarus turned, already knowing it was too late to stop the attack, he still raised his working hand to try and shield his skull; However, the blow never came, and as Lazarus dropped his hand, he saw the tall girl hanging a foot off the ground, her pipe and arm wrapped up in a cocoon of tape. Lazarus looked up, ignoring the urge to fall over as his precious supply of blood remaining in his body was forced to rush to his head.
"Lazarus! I couldn't find any help!" Hanta called, his eyes filled with fear as he looked over Lazarus torn body, "I'll get you out of here, then we'll get you to a hospital!"
Suddenly, Lazarus heard feet pounding the pavement behind him, and he threw his body against the wall of the alley, narrowly avoiding Fingernails attack.
"Hanta!" Lazarus called as he avoided another swing, "Switchblade!" Realization dawned in Hanta's eyes as he fumbled around in his pocket.
"Catch!" Hanta called as he threw the red ovular object down towards Lazarus. Lazarus caught it in his left hand and instantly flicked the small blade out, before he used it immediately to parry another one of Fingernails relentless swings.
"Get out of here Hanta!" Lazarus called as he kicked Fingernails, which caused her to stumble back a few feet, "You need to keep yourself safe!"
"Your partner and or personal meat shield?"
Hanta bent his elbow and grunted, but no tape came, Lazarus realized that with all the sparing they did earlier, and Hanta's frantic searching to find help, he was probably hitting his quirks upper limit. He turned and found he didn't have the energy to kick Fingernails again, so he simply shoved her away with his shoulder, happy that he couldn't feel anything in his wounded arm anymore as her fingernails dug into his flesh for a moment before he knocked her away.
"Hanta! Trust me!" Lazarus called up, feeling his balance began to fail him, he knew what was happening, he didn't like it, but it was what it was. He pointed with his good arm, "Get out of here! I'll find my own way out!"
Fingernails screamed as she charged him again, tripping over her own feet. Lazarus guessed he wasn't the only one running on empty. "Shut up! Shut up!" She repeated as she swung again and again. Catching Lazarus on his chest twice.
"You're going to kill him!" Hanta screamed, suddenly, as if a switch was flipped, Fingernails took a step away from Lazarus, Lazarus looked up, he could feel each breath he took become more strained. Still, his heart was still warmed at Hanta's concern for his life.
Lazarus forced himself past his limits, keeping both of his feet underneath him as he smiled at Fingernails. "Come on." He baited her, taking a step forward as he held his switchblade out as if it were a mighty blade.
Fingernails looked almost scared for a moment, before her face twisted into determination. "You still want to fight? Fine! Let's end this!" She stepped forward, her nails looking sharper than ever.
Lazarus, meanwhile, suddenly was having trouble staying conscious, he took a step forwards as well, then another, picking up speed as he half-ran half-fell towards Fingernails. He just needed to avoid her attack, he made avoiding her next attack the most important thing he could ever do in his mind, and focused on it as the distance between the two of them closed rapidly.
Lazarus committed, he lunged to the side, planning to avoid her swing at him completely. At the same moment Fingernails, driven by nothing but anger and fatigue, swung wider than normal, and Lazarus was a moment too slow.
"Oh, and try not to use your Quirk this time if you don't have to."
Lazarus smashed against the wall with his whole body as he placed his working hand over his throat, feeling the warm liquid gush over and past his hand. The alleyway was completely silent.
Lazarus took his hand away from his fatal wound, accepting that he had miscalculated his attack. He stared at his blood soaked hand for a moment, before he felt his legs buckle underneath him as he fell to his knees. Fingernails eyes were as wide as saucers, her lip quivering in shock and fear as she babbled incoherently to herself. His eyes glanced upwards, Lazarus watched Hanta, who at this distance looked like a blur, as he seemed to be helplessly frozen in place.
Lazarus locked eyes with Fingernails, and he found the energy deep within himself to smile.
"Next time." He spoke in what was most likely terrifying clarity to anyone listening, before he fell onto his chest, his body shutting down. Even though blurred vision, he saw Fingernails fall to her knees, he focused on his hand as numbness spread throughout his limbs. He felt himself breath in, and knew that it was his last breath. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the darkness.
Then, he felt nothing at all.
Then, he began to count.
"One,"
"Two,"
"Three,"
"Four,"
"Five."
Suddenly, Lazarus took a deep breath in, opening his eyelids but still seeing nothing but darkness, yet even then, it was still the sweetest breath he had ever taken, he felt his nerves begin to turn on one at a time, but he couldn't stop the count yet.
"Six, seven, eight, nine, ten."
He felt all his limbs again, he had lips, and he could feel hair growing on top of his head.
"Eleven, twelve…"
Lazarus forced his eyelids shut.
"Thirteen."
Lazarus opened his eyes.
And he was alive again.
He took a moment to calm himself, he felt his heart pounding in his chest, for once, and did a visual check to see that he was all accounted for.
Lazarus looked at his left hand, marveling at his pink newborn flesh, already quickly tanning back to his original pale-ish colour. He let his eyes follow up his arm, pristine and toned as always. Lazarus's red shirt was completely undamaged as he felt down the front for any tears. He did the same check with his black pants, with the same result. Lazarus couldn't help but chuckle, dying was never pleasant, but there was something liberating about his first time coming back after a long uninterrupted life. Lazarus drank in his environment, the sky was a beautiful vibrant blue, the weather was pleasant, and the occasional cloud in the sky turned it into a piece of art. Lazarus was reminded yet again of how much he loved being alive.
"...Lazarus?" A meek voice spoke, causing Lazarus to look over. He saw Hanta, his back pressed against the edge of the roof, his expression a mix of awe, terror and disbelief.
"Oh, hey Hanta." Lazarus replied casually, sticking his hands into his pockets, "Thanks for trying to help, I really owe you one, getting clubbed to death is a super sucky way to go, I really appreciate you sparing me that." Hanta seemed a little broken, simply opening and closing his jaw repeatedly.
"But...but...the box...cube...it…" As Hanta's brain tried to comprehend the situation, Lazarus was reminded of what he needed to do.
"Oh, yeah, right, one second Hanta." Lazarus moved to lift his shirt, then stopped and smiled sheepishly at Hanta. "If uh, you're a little squeamish you might want to look away." Hanta made no move to turn away. Lazarus continued lifting his shirt, revealing the large see-through cube embedded on the left side of his chest, and his still beating heart encased inside. He heard Hanta hurl from somewhere in front of him, but paid him little mind as he wrapped his hands around the edges of the cube and took a deep breath.
"It's like ripping off a band aid." He mumbled to himself as he braced his body for the sudden shock. With a single clean pull and a short grunt, he removed the cube from his chest. His skin quickly crawling across his body to cover the sudden gaping hole, until it looked like there had been no cube in his chest at all. He stared at the see-through cube, mesmerized by his own heart beating, before the cube lost its opaqueness and began shrinking, becoming the dull metal cube it had been before. He tossed it up in the air and caught it, before he slipped it into his back pocket. Lazarus turned to Hanta and smiled knowingly.
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I have a lot of answers; However, coming back from the dead works up one hell of an appetite, so how about we grab a bite to eat first?" Lazarus began to jog towards the edge of the roof, but after Hanta made no move to follow him, Lazarus turned back, concern covering his face.
"Hanta? You coming?" Lazarus asked, Hanta didn't reply, his eyes staring off at some unknown horizon beyond Lazarus's comprehension. Lazarus began to get nervous, "You uh, not hungry?"
Lazarus was seated across from Hanta in the small booth, watching him stare intensely at the salad in front of him, seemingly consumed by his own thoughts. Lazarus looked around the tiny restaurant he had carried Hanta into, he realized Hanta may have been slightly more affected by his almost-death then he had initially assumed.
"So," Lazarus began, placing his hands together while putting a winning smile on his face, "I understand it may have been, as some would say, traumatic, to see me die-" Lazarus focused on the Japanese delivery, knowing fully well he couldn't risk screwing up this conversation.
"I don't think I'll ever sleep again." Hanta muttered, his eyes still locked onto his salad. Lazarus laughed nervously.
"Okay, maybe a little melodramatic there, it wasn't that-" Lazarus tried to steer the conversation back to where he wanted it to go.
"Have you ever seen what happens to you after you die? I mean, how your body comes back?" Hanta cut in, suddenly staring directly, and intensely, at Lazarus. Lazarus shut his mouth and found his throat was incredibly dry.
"Uh- no, I, I don't see how that would be possible for me to-" Lazarus stumbled over his words in an attempt to answer.
"Your quirk is the thing of nightmares. I pray that you never have to witness what I had to." Hanta, seemingly satisfied with what he had said, went back to staring at his salad.
Lazarus opened his mouth, but couldn't find the right words to express what he needed to say. The two of them sat in silence, Lazarus awkwardly shoveling food into his mouth, his appetite fueled by the lack of conversation.
"So," Lazarus spoke, covering his mouth to prevent his mouthful of salad from spilling out of his bulging cheeks, taking a moment to swallow, he continued, "I'm sorry, for worrying you." Silence dominated the table yet again.
Hanta slowly lifted his head, his eyes burning with an emotion Lazarus couldn't place, but it still filled him with the creeping dread that he may be killed a second time before today was over.
"You're sorry? Sorry?!" Hanta's voice slowly began building, a crazed undertone causing Lazarus to push himself further away from the table, "You never thought to mention, 'oh hey Hanta Sero, by the way, don't worry about seeing someone you care about die, it's a temporary thing with me!' at all? It never crossed your mind that might be something to fill me in on?!" Hanta was standing now, leaning across the table and crossing into Lazarus's personal space.
"Aw, you care about me-" Lazarus tried to interject some humor into the situation.
"Shut. Up." Hanta's voice wasn't wild, in fact, it was incredibly controlled, which freaked Lazarus out more than the alternative, "I watched you die, I...I knew you were going to die." Hanta suddenly seemed defeated, as he slid back into his chair and couldn't meet Lazarus's eyes, "I knew you were going to die and I still ran."
Lazarus couldn't stand seeing Hanta like this, "I had to beg to get you to leave me, it's not like you wanted to!" Hanta still refused to look at him.
"I did." Hanta said, confusing Lazarus until he elaborated, "I did want to leave, deep down, when you told me to run, even though I said I didn't want to leave you, a part of me told me that I couldn't do anything, all I could do was get help. So I left you, and I couldn't even find any help." Hanta took a deep shaky breath.
"There are so many things I could have done, I want to be a hero and the second you gave me permission to escape I took it, I could have resisted you, I could have rejected you, I didn't know about your quirk, when I left, I didn't know…" Hanta's tone grew darker and darker as he continued.
"There weren't any heroes on patrol, I didn't know if there were any agencies nearby and the police station was too far away. I panicked and came back, just in time for my quirk to give out on me, just in time to see you, my friend, half-dead, still fighting." Hanta looked Lazarus dead in the eye. "I shouldn't have left you, we could have taken them, you shouldn't have had to..." Hanta swallowed a lump in his throat, "...die." Hanta finished, leaving the word floating in the air.
"I don't like dying." Lazarus spoke, his tone soft as he dropped his pep and humor. He bit his lip as he forced himself to be vulnerable, "It's really unpleasant, you know? No matter how many times I do it, there's something...terrifying about taking a breath and knowing it's your last." Lazarus stood up and walked to the other side of the booth, sitting down beside Hanta.
"It's been, four? Yeah, four months since I last died." Lazarus counted on his fingers to confirm his estimate, flexing his hand, still getting use to it moving at his command again, "Four months is a long time, you can force yourself to forget a lot of trauma with four months of repression, trauma that can reappear with a single event." Lazarus snapped his fingers, "Just like that."
Hanta stared at him silently, listening to Lazarus as he poured his heart out, "I, try and avoid dying painfully regularly, I mean, I don't feel pain like most people, so once I die two or three times in a month, I can adapt to the horrible emotion stress, but once I get a chance to stop dying? I try and take it." Lazarus tapped his fingers on the table, trying to keep his mind from drifting off topic, "I've died forty-seven times since I first learned of my quirk when I was four." Lazarus let out a sad chuckle when he heard Hanta gasp beside him.
"forty...seven?" Hanta spoke, disbelief and pity both evident in his voice. Lazarus felt tears well in his eyes, but he wiped them away before they could fully form.
"I mean, forty of them were in the last two years, but yeah, I can't wait until a break the big five-o." Lazarus's voice cracked slightly, but he fought to keep it under his control, he felt Hanta put an unsure hand on his shoulder.
"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to die." Lazarus finally admitted, "I knew if I said anything, and those girls heard me, they'd have stopped trying to simply beat me within an inch of my life; and they would have slaughtered me. It wouldn't have even been a fight." Lazarus shrugged, "I'm a good fighter, but three on one? The only thing that kept me alive for so long was the fact that they were pulling their punches, they didn't have murderous intent."
Lazarus sat up, closing his eyes and he focused on his breathing, choking back a sob or two as he forced his emotions to remain within his control, "And as you saw, without my heart I can't regenerate, so I needed you to get my heart out of there, if they had my heart, I mean, I could die, like, really die, for real." Lazarus tried to focus on making sure Hanta knew he didn't blame him, none of this was Hanta's fault.
"I… it was never my intention, to, that is, to scare you, I mean, I was scared, and I tried, god I tried not to, but adrenaline was pumping…" Lazarus could feel his thoughts fragmenting and his face turning red and hot.
"Hey," Hanta's voice snapped Lazarus out of his spiral of despair. Lazarus met Hanta's eyes, and saw forgiveness within them, "We're both alive now, aren't we? You saved my life."
Lazarus smiled, "and you saved mine, I think we're even." The two of them laughed, a genuine release of tension between the two of them.
Lazarus felt his muscles relax, he smiled at Hanta, who smiled back. He felt something new between them, something that wasn't there before, but he couldn't find the words in either language he knew to describe it.
Suddenly, he felt compelled to grab Hanta and hug him, and Lazarus wasn't the kind of guy who ignored his impulses. In a moment, he had Hanta in a death-grip bear hug. Hanta tensed for a moment at the sudden contact, before wrapping his own arms around Lazarus.
"You're a great brother." Lazarus spoke, his emotions finally released, before his mind replayed what he had just said.
"What?" Hanta spoke, the emotional spark of the moment suddenly absent.
Lazarus wondered to himself if he would ever learn his lesson about not screwing up a good thing as soon as he encountered it.
Lazarus pushed himself off Hanta and threw his hands up in surrender. "Sorry! I meant friend! I was going to say friend and then brother came out! Blame the language barrier!" All the red hot emotions that he had just dealt with quickly settled back into an anxious ball in his chest.
Hanta stared at Lazarus silently, before he smiled softly. "You know, I've always wanted a brother…"
Lazarus stared back, his expression slowly mirroring Hanta's. For the first time, the silence that descended over them was comfortable, and Lazarus felt no need to interrupt it.
"Hey are you going to finish that salad?" Lazarus asked, his growling stomach reminding him he had pressing physical needs to attend to.
Hanta laughed and shoved him, "Oh come on! You totally ruined the moment!" Lazarus laughed as Hanta pushed the plate in front of Lazarus, whom instantly began to devour it.
"Hey!" Lazarus spoke through mouthfuls of salad, "You try coming back from the dead and then pretend not to be starving." Lazarus noticed Hanta flinch slightly.
"Too soon?" Lazarus questioned, putting down his fork for a moment.
"It's still a little tender, yeah." Hanta slowly responded, Lazarus nodded.
"No dead jokes, got it. I'll try and stay on the mortal coil." Lazarus said, twirling his fork in his hand as he went back to eating his salad.
Hanta suddenly stopped, a look of confusion passing over his face. "Wait, what happened to your dead body?"
Lazarus looked up and shrugged, "I don't know, it disappears? I've never encountered my own corpse before, so I just kinda figured it turns to dust or something." Hanta still seemed to have more questions, Lazarus gestured for him to continue.
Hanta pointed at Lazarus's shirt, "And your clothes, why do they return with you? Shouldn't they, you know, not?" Lazarus smiled.
"Good question, short answer is, I have no clue why I don't end up in the nude when I return from the dead. Long answer, whatever I'm wearing at midnight is what I return in for the next twenty-four hours. I learned that the hard way after I started wearing pajamas to bed." Lazarus finished the salad and pushed the plate away from him.
Hanta seemed to have one last question, "If you hate dying so much, why do you want to be a hero?" Lazarus stopped.
"Has anyone told you how good you are at asking questions?" Lazarus smiled widely.
"Has anyone ever told you how bad you are at avoiding questions?" Hanta replied back with the same gusto. Lazarus sighed, accepting defeat.
"Because the only thing I hate more then dying and coming back," Lazarus looked out the storefront window across the restaurant, his eyes darting from face to face in the crowd, "Is watching other people not come back." Lazarus felt his fists clench.
"I've experienced the fear of death time and time again, and I have seen it in the eyes of others, and I know everything they are thinking. The knowledge that you are about to die is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy." Lazarus felt his resolution echo in his head, his destiny, his fate, the future he had risked everything to achieve.
Lazarus turned to Hanta, standing up from the booth as he felt a fire ignite in his soul. "My name is Lazarus Poe, The Lich, and I will become a hero; even if it kills me."