Himiko Toga(Is Not Allowed To Make The Rules Under Any Circumstances)
Himiko stares at the assorted knives spread across the floor of her bedroom. She'd pulled them out from their usual hiding place hours ago, laying each knife out with care despite her trembling hands.
The sun set a while ago. Now, she sits in her dark, quiet room, vacant eyes fixated on the beams of moonlight that make her beloved collection glitter. Her mind is far away, so far that she hasn't noticed the uncomfortable sensation of her leg falling asleep.
Ever since she(and the rest of the League) had left Izuku's temporary room at his request, she felt like she couldn't breathe. She'd brushed off all of Magne and Twice's attempts at talking to her, heading straight to her room.
Usually, admiring her collection helped her calm herself down, but tonight, she can barely focus on the weapons. Izuku's words echo through her head, loud in the silent room. It feels like a snake is coiling around her chest, tightening and tightening until she feels like she's suffocating under the sheer force of her own anger.
It wasn't an emotion that she felt often. Desperation, hunger, and numbness were old companions of hers, but those had long dimmed in the face of the warmth that just being around the League provided.
But Izuku's story...
The anger coils tighter, and she struggles for breath, barely registering her own breathing as she focuses on the knives in front of her. Her hands tremble as she reaches out and picks up a knife, examining it as her shoulder starts to ache.
It's unfair.
The thought crystalizes in her mind as she grips the blade's handle a little tighter, eyes gaining an uncannily intense light. It's just so...unfair, that she wants to scream. It's unfair that people were so mean to Izuku. It's unfair that no one did anything when Izuku was hurt. It's unfair that Izuku had to deal with that all alone.
Izuku didn't deserve any of that. He's a good friend, he's a good person, he's—he's Izuku .
But that wasn't good enough for All Might, and now…
Izuku's perpetually tired eyes and the scars that cover every inch of his skin flash through her mind.
Abruptly, she flings the knife to the side. It clatters off a wall, the loud noise disrupting the silence and startling her out of her thoughts. She straightens, staring at the blade that lies at the edge of the pretty pink carpet and the scuffed rose wallpaper.
"Himiko?"
Her head whips around, and she sees Twice's fuzzy zebra patterned socks from beneath the crack of her closed door.
"I just came to check in with you. Are you doing okay? You were pretty quiet earlier, and Magne was worried..."
The blonde stares at Twice's socks, feeling like someone had firmly sealed her mouth shut. There's a long pause, the feet shuffling silently on the hallway carpet as he waits for her answer.
"...Are you in there?" He asks, and she knows she should respond, but she just...can't.
After another, longer pause, Twice knocks on the door, and then the handle turns. She watches, completely detached as the blonde man pokes his head into her bedroom. His eyes immediately find hers, and his entire expression softens with an emotion she can't identify.
Twice doesn't say another word, simply closing the door behind himself and walking up to where she's sitting. He sits next to her, hesitating for a moment before wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
They sit in silence, the anger unwinding, coil by coil as she fully leans into Twice's side and matches his breathing.
"I know that was rough, kiddo." He says as he gently rubs her shoulder. "Just know that you can talk to us anytime. We'll listen."
A lone tear trickles down Himiko's cheek as she stares at the floor in front of them, suddenly feeling really tired.
"C-Could you tell me a story?" She asks. When she was sad, Magne and Twice would tell her nice stories, their deep, rumbly voices sending her straight into the welcoming arms of sleep.
"Of course."
Izuku hums contentedly to himself as he dries his hands off with a towel, all of the dishes from breakfast either in the dishwasher or hand washed and set out to dry.
He glances over at Kurogiri—who's holding a bottle of whiskey and a whole lemon as he hovers over a simmering pot, looking somewhere between worried and annoyed—and decides to make himself scarce. He'd already almost sent the man into cardiac arrest when he'd grabbed a pan directly out of the oven without gloves, and he really didn't want to be on the receiving end of Kurogiri's disappointed stares for the second time this morning.
The white haired boy sets the towel down and slips out of the door, making sure it closes without a sound. There'll be time to talk to Kurogiri later, since he's been reinstated as the misty man's helper for the indefinite future.
As he pads past several lounging League members—most likely gearing up to sleep off their heavy breakfast—he spots Himiko, Eri, and Twice huddled in a circle in one of the dusty side rooms that Kurogiri hadn't bothered to clean. He pauses his walk, head tilted as he listens to their loud whispers. Himiko is explaining the rules to...some sort of game? It sounds vaguely familiar, but he can't exactly place it.
Yellow eyes meet his, and Himiko perks up. A playful grin stretches across her face as she beckons him, drawing the attention of Twice and Eri.
"Hey 'Zuku! You wanna play hide and seek?"
Jiji's purrs reverberate through the dark, cramped space as he gently pets the cat, silencing its loud meowing from earlier. The purring isn't much better, honestly, but the mansion is so big that it doesn't matter anyway. It's not like Himiko could hear Jiji's meowing from downstairs.
He has no idea how the cat got in here with him, but one moment, he was making sure the closet doors were firmly shut, the next he felt a brush of fur against his neck and Jiji was meowing at him. The kitten had a way of finding him no matter where he was—the same could be said for Azuki, though the cat isn't as clingy as the kitten.
In the dim closet, the walls pressing against his back and shins feel more real, and every breath feels louder than ever before as he closes his eyes, focusing on the sensation of warm fur beneath his hands. He'd thought that he would have a worse reaction to this, but...it's actually alright. He feels in control of the situation, knowing that even if the closet doors won't open, he could get himself out with a mere thought. That, or someone would eventually find him and get him out.
He sighs, sliding down the wall to rest his head against a solid wooden panel, ears perked as Jiji continues to purr away, completely unbothered by the cramped space.
Distantly, he hears the sounds of three sets of footsteps heading down the hallway—and towards him. His lips twitch as he picks up the sound of Twice conversing with himself and Himiko and Eri's entertained giggles. They're quickly stifled though, giggles and conversation turned into too-loud whispers as they turn the knob to the room next to him. They shuffle around for a moment, clearly searching for him before letting out disappointed groans.
"Where could he be?! We've searched everywhere!" Himiko says, voice muffled by the closet doors and the walls that separate them.
"Not everywhere, just all of the rooms downstairs, so he has to be up here. Or he managed to sneak past us and hide downstairs! We should still check all of the rooms upstairs just in case though—"
"But it's going to take foreeeveeeer!" Himiko whines. "We've already searched all of the rooms down the other hall, and we still have three more to go!"
"Dad is definitely here, can we please look a little longer? I really wanna find him this time..." Eri finally speaks up, and he practically melts into the walls at just how cute she sounds.
Himiko squeals in delight, and he can practically hear Twice perk up at her puppy dog eyes.
"We'll definitely help you find Izuku! Yeah, we'll tear apart this whole joint if we have to! " He confirms, and Izuku stifles a snort at the pose he imagines the blonde man doing to cheer Eri up.
Suddenly, it goes silent.
Izuku stiffens, hands pausing on Jiji's fur as he strains his ears, listening as the three sets of footsteps quickly pad down the hallway, voices silenced as anticipation builds up in his muscles. The doorknob turns, and he tenses, shins pressing against the closet walls and making the entire closet creak underneath the pressure.
He stares at the seam of the doors intensely, Jiji securely in his palms as he listens to the three people file in, their footsteps muffled by one of the many expensive carpets. One second, two second, three seconds, four, they search through the room for him, Twice even walking past the closet a couple of times.
BAM!
The closet doors slam open, and Himiko is right above him, a feral look in her eyes as she grins down at him, blocking the midmorning sunlight from shining directly in his eyes.
"FOUND YOU!"
She immediately tries to pounce on him, but he worms his way out of his wedged position and onto the carpet, barely escaping her grasp with the kitten in his arms. He moves to get to his feet, but Himiko flings herself on top of his back, effectively pinning him to the floor.
"I found him! Did you see that? I totally found him!" Himiko says excitedly, practically shouting into his ear.
"Yay! You found Dad!" Eri cheers, then carefully sits down on his shoulder, a bright smile on her face.
"Good job, kids!" Twice gives them a thumbs up, giving Izuku a wink and a grin.
The white haired boy grins back, free hand darting out and catching the man by the ankle. Twice shrieks and falls to the floor with a THUD as Jiji wiggles out of Izuku's arms and darts away from the pile of people, clearly startled. He snickers as Twice gives him an indignant look, hand still secure on his ankle.
"Dad! Dad! Now you have to find us!" Eri smiles down at him, excitement written all over her face.
"I thought the first person to be found was 'it'?" He asks, somewhat confused by the shifting rules of the game.
"Nope!" She and Himiko speak in unison, both getting off of him with big, excited grins.
"Don't you remember? I said it was the last person to be found, not the first!" Himiko says, eyes twinkling with mischief.
That's definitely not what she said earlier, but he nods compliantly, deciding to just go with it since they both seemed so excited.
"You're too good at hiding, kid. We gotta Nerf you somehow! " Twice chuckles and gets to his feet, offering Izuku a hand.
He takes it, a smile on his face as he watches Himiko and Eri dart off, their giggles fading into the distance as they run down the hallway.
"Ah, shit I gotta go hide too now, huh? My poor old bones! We can't take much more! Yes we can, stop complaining." Twice rolls his eyes and walks out of the room, his footsteps fading along with his voice.
Izuku stretches, a smile still on his face as he starts mentally counting to fifty.
That should give them enough time to hide, right?
Someone is yelling again.
All For One represses a groan, throwing back the last dregs of the drink Kurogiri had prepared for him earlier.
Somehow, the muffled voices that usually plagued his nights had seeped into his waking hours, leaving him questioning whether or not he was having auditory hallucinations. Especially since the voices sounded suspiciously like the fools that tried to play keep away with his brother's Quirk and paid dearly for it.
The cold, alcohol-infused tea slides down his throat with ease. He probably should be more careful about drinking—mixing alcohol with a volatile cocktail of Quirks that he holds toes the line between indulgence and insanity—but he's far past the point of caring. No matter what he tries, the voices won't shut up, flaring up at random times and growing loud enough to cause him a headache despite their words gaining no actual clarity. It had gotten to the point that Kurogiri had been shooting him concerned looks, but for all his shuffling and examining of his current stockpile of Quirks, he couldn't find the source of the noise.
Even the prodding of his more sentient Quirks had yielded no results, and he was left scratching his head as the voices persisted. The only thing that seemed to help was alcohol, but he's fairly certain it's just the feeling of a good buzz kicking in talking.
The king of the underworld sighs, setting the mug down on the side table a little harder than necessary. Its handle cracks, but it doesn't shatter the glass, so he pays it no mind as he leans back in his wheelchair, letting out a heavy sigh as the voices start to rise again.
He passes a hand over the remains of his face.
This is going to be a problem.
Izuku emerges from one side of the long hallway, unsuccessful in his search for his three targets. Sunlight streams down on his white curls as he pauses at the top of the stairs, squinting as he surveys the vast room beneath him, not really expecting to find anything.
Faint echoes of anger and frustration thread through him, paired with the unmistakable feeling of Sixth's self-hatred. He ignores it. Judging from Nana's absence, the Holders are probably arguing again. She always comes back, but she seems a little more tired each time, though she pretends she isn't. He sees straight through it, but pretends not to notice for her sake.
It doesn't take a genius to know that they're arguing about him.
He sighs, eyes drifting up to the high windows above the main entrance that allow sunlight to stream directly in his eyes—only to see Himiko, perched on one of the narrow ledges. The sunlight streams around her body, making her messy blonde hair look sort of like a halo.
Their eyes meet, and a smile spreads across his face.
"Found you!" He calls, smile growing bigger as she pouts at him.
"I can't believe you found me first!" She cries, shooting him an indignant glare.
The white haired boy grins at her, laughter bubbling up in his chest at her reaction.
"Too bad! Now you have to come down and help me find Twice and Eri." He laughs, gesturing for her to come down.
Himiko narrows her eyes at him, clutching the side of the windowsill a little tighter as she pouts down at him.
"What if I can't get down?"
"Then I'll catch you!" Izuku replies, spreading his arms out as if to catch her. He knows that if she got up there before, she can definitely get down, and that she's probably just trying to get out of helping him.
For a moment, she hesitates, staring down at him with narrowed eyes.
The white haired boy falters, wondering if he took it too far, but then she grins at him—and flings herself headfirst off of the windowsill. He lets out a startled yelp, One For All activating in a flurry of voices and emotions as he launches himself off of the edge of the railing. He collides with her within a fraction of a second, head automatically cupping her head as he uses Float to safely slow their fall to the ground floor.
Izuku's feet land firmly on the floor, and he immediately shuts off One For All, the rush of voices and emotions dimmed once more. Himiko's arms are tight around his neck, and she pulls away from his chest with an exhilerated grin on her face. He grins back.
"Let's go find everyone else."
Dabi(Please Get A New Secret Identity, Your Sperm Donor Is A Piece Of Shit)
Izuku sets down the last plate from the kitchen, noting the two obviously empty spaces at the table. Most of the League are already here, drawn in by the smell of food that permeated the entire mansion when Kurogiri cooks. Most—except Dabi and All For One.
He's not disappointed by All For One's absence. The Holder's emotions tend to spike whenever he's near the supervillain, enough that he can feel them without One For All being activated. Unfortunately, it also leads to a light show, and it's overall just embarrassing.
Thankfully, the man has been absent from mealtimes for a couple days now, and it helps ease the Holder's emotions. Though, between his absence and an increasingly worried Kurogiri fussing over several bottles of alcohol infused tea throughout the day, All For One's lack of presence was starting to make Izuku uneasy.
As for Dabi...
The burned man hadn't said a word to him since he'd told everyone the truth about One For All. He'd sat there, facial expressions carefully controlled as he slowly destroyed the wooden armrest of his chair with the sheer heat his palms were emitting. Turquoise eyes swirled with so much rage that Izuku was surprised he didn't burst into flames. In the end, he'd left the bedroom without a word, fists so tightly clenched that a few of his staples ripped from the strain.
Dabi didn't even come to meals anymore, opting to slip in and out of the house like a ghost, leaving the plates of food Kurogiri set aside for him untouched. Several of the older League members had tried talking to him—most notably Mr. Compress, who'd disappear after dinner with a freshly marbled plate to give to the man. He almost always returned with the marble and a troubled expression on his face, rolling it between his fingers as he slipped into the kitchen to speak with Kurogiri.
Izuku had managed to catch the tail end of one of their conversations yesterday, when he was coming down after braiding Eri's hair to help prepare lunch.
"I know, Kurogiri, I know, but...he's just so self-destructive, and I...it scares me. It scares me, because I don't know how to get through to him, to help him." Mr. Compress says, voice tight.
There's a pause, and a rustling sound that indicates someone being tugged forwards.
"You need to give him more time, Atsuhiro. He's processing his emotions just like the rest of us, and there's nothing you can do but offer support and listen to his wishes." Kurogiri responds, voice soothing. "I know it's hard to watch, but there isn't any sort of magical solution to this."
Another pause, then a muffled, defeated sigh.
"God, I wish there was."
The white haired boy frowns, eyes flickering from Dabi's empty seat to the uncustomary dishevelment of Mr. Compress' clothes.
He straightens, brushing off the rice flour on his hands before reaching over and ruffling Eri's hair. She looks up at him from her conversation with Twice, a question behind her eyes.
"I'm going to go find Uncle Dabi so he can eat dinner with us too." He whispers in her ear before straightening up, giving her a gentle smile.
Eri smiles back, the smallest trace of hesitance behind her eyes as she watches him slip out of the warm dining room without another word.
The cold winter air nips at his bare fingers, at odds with the thrumming warmth that One For All provides as he exhales, a cloud of steam swirling in front of his freckled face.
It's silent aside from the crunch of his footsteps as his feet sink through the deep snow. Clear, white moonlight makes the snowdrifts glow and illuminates the bootprints he's been following for the past fifteen minutes. It hadn't snowed for a few days, so it was a guessing game of which set of tracks to follow, but he wasn't willing to go through the hassle of activating One For All when he could figure it out himself.
Dark, dramatic shadows extend from the trees around him, making them look larger than they actually are. They're slowly thinning out, and he'd crossed something that looked suspiciously like Gigantomachia's footprints a while back. Hopefully, he wouldn't encounter the man on his search. He's not sure he has the energy to deal with the rocky man's enthusiasm.
Izuku sighs, a cloud of steam obsuring his vision.
When he looks up, he's at the edge of a clearing, bright white moonlight beaming down on him and another familiar figure.
Dabi is sitting in the snow, legs sprawled out as he leans back on his arms, scarred face upturned to the bright crescent moon.
"I told you, I'm not hungry old ma—" He cuts himself off, entire body going rigid when he meets Izuku's eyes.
A mix of anger and guilt flashes through his bright turquoise eyes, and Izuku is thrown back to the secluded, sunlit hallway beneath the arena that Shouto had guided him to after the cavalry battle.
"In my memories, my mother was always crying. She said 'Your left side is unsightly', as she poured boiling water over my left eye."
Izuku remembers the sheer helplessness he felt as he watched Shouto press his hand against his scar, short fingernails pressing into the scar tissue a little too hard as he scowled at the floor.
"No. I'll reject him completely by winning first place without using my left side."
Oh, how his heart dropped when he heard those words, when he'd met Shouto's eyes, swirling with rage and sheer self-hatred. He remembered how all of the resentful anger he felt when he'd realized Shouto wasn't using his perfectly good Quirk fully curdled into regret, sitting heavy in his stomach as the other boy walked away. He remembers cursing himself for not seeing the signs, remembers how his encounter with Endeavor had crystalized his simmering regret and self-hatred into twisted determination to help Shouto, no matter what.
"That means there's a connection between you and All Might that you can't talk about, right?"
And he remembers how Shouto's behavior towards his and All Might's relationship had shifted. How he started not-so-subtly putting himself inbetween Izuku and All Might when they were in close quarters, how he would squeeze Izuku's hand comfortingly when Izuku would cringe away from All Might's booming voice, how Shouto's gaze turned wary when he looked at the Symbol of Peace. He remembers how the relentless theories about him being All Might's secret lovechild slowed, then stopped, replaced with a silent understanding that All Might was no better than Endeavor.
Dabi is already on his feet, anger radiating from his thin frame as his boots sink into the deep snow, moonlight illuminating the fresh blood mixing with dried blood before it drips onto the glittering snowdrifts.
"I know." He starts, voice just loud enough to be heard over Dabi's footsteps. The man doesn't stop, but Izuku keeps talking anyway. "I know you're angry that you didn't see the signs."
There's a pause, a moment of hesitation.
"I was angry at myself, when I didn't the signs in Shouto." Izuku forges ahead, through the almost suspenseful silence that only snow can provide. "I mean, Endeavor isn't exactly subtle, and he practically screams from the rooftops about his 'masterpiece'."
He pauses, eyes flickering from the blood stained snow to Dabi's still form.
"All Might...he's not subtle either, but he's also the least self-aware person I've ever met. He thought that what he was doing was right, that he was just training a successor to carry on the gift his mentor gave him."
"Typical hero." Dabi scoffs, shoulders tight with anger. "Only thinking about themselves and their goals, never bothering to think about the people they discarded and stepped on to get to that goal."
Izuku sighs, breath billowing in front of him.
"Exactly. And if the Symbol of Peace thinks that what he's doing is right, then why would anyone oppose him?" He asks, feeling a lot older than he actually is.
Dabi tenses up even more, and fresh blood runs down his fists, steaming as it hits the snow.
"I'm not trying to excuse his behavior, or justify it. He's already done plenty of that for me." Izuku's lips curl in a wry smile. "I just want you to know that I don't blame you, or anyone else in the League for not knowing."
Another, longer pause, the air heavy with their silence as the snow glitters underneath the ever bright moon.
"You should." Dabi finally says. "You should blame me, at least. I—I should've noticed."
"It wasn't your job to notice, Dabi. It was a hero's job to notice. It was my teacher's jobs to notice. But it wasn't your job." He replies evenly.
The tension in the burned man's shoulders snap.
"YOU DON'T GET IT!" Dabi shouts into the silent clearing, whirling around in a spray of snow and flickering blue flames. "It doesn't matter if it was my job to notice or not! I should've known."
He's panting now, the sheer effort of holding in his rage in for so long and then expressing it taking a toll on his battered, stapled together body. Blood drips from his hands, the blue flames dying as quickly as they came as the silence of the clearing becomes deafening.
Touya Todoroki looks at the small white haired child, self-hatred and guilt and disappointment swirling in his turquoise eyes, eyes that he hated, hated so much that sometimes all he wanted to do was rip them out of his goddamn skull so he wouldn't see Endeavor every time he looked in the mirror.
"It's not your fault, Touya."
He flinches back at the use of his real name, surprise dousing his guilt-fueled self hatred like a bucket of icy water.
"How—"
"You haven't even seen me interact with All Might, so how could you have known?" Izuku interrupts him, voice as steady as his bright green gaze. "I'm sure there were—are, signs. But I don't think anyone could've connected things fully unless they saw me and All Might interact regularly. Even then, it took Shouto and Hitoshi a while to realize. I think Sensei might've realized too, but..."
He looks down at his scarred hands, a familiar feeling of disappointment settling in his chest.
"It was too late, and he didn't end up doing much. He's the kind of person that likes to act on data rather than gut feelings, and I doubt he would've gone to Nezu about it unless he had solid, undeniable proof." Izuku pauses, then scowls. "Not that Nezu would've listened."
The white haired boy sighs, watching his breath cloud in front of him before focusing back on Dabi's still form and watchful turquoise eyes.
"You remind me a lot of Shouto, sometimes." He admits quietly, mind drifting to the short, late night texts he would exchange with Shouto and Hitoshi to let them know he and Eri are alive and well. Their meetup got pushed back—something about interning with heroes again—but they'd figured out another time, and it was coming up pretty soon.
Hopefully, it'll work out this time.
"How long." Dabi's tight voice cuts through his thoughts.
"...Since we first met."
The silence stretches out, and Izuku watches the tension drain out of Dabi's shoulders, replaced with quiet, tired defeat.
"It's that easy to tell, huh?"
"The rest of League don't know." Izuku tries to console him, taking a half step forwards before thinking better of it and stopping. "Or if they do, they haven't said anything. Either way, I won't say anything unless you want me to."
Dabi shakes his head, rubbing his blood-crusted fists absentmindedly as he looks down at the snow covered ground.
"You're too smart for your own good, pipsqueak."
"I'm smart enough to know that starving yourself isn't exactly going to keep your medical miricle of a body going." Izuku quips, immediately regretting his light tone during such a heavy discussion.
The burned man eyes him for a moment before falling backwards, flopping back onto a soft snowdrift. Izuku's hands twitch, but he doesn't move, watching the burned man carefully.
"Man, I can't believe you completely blew my secret identity open like that." Dabi says, steam billowing from the openings between his staples.
Izuku notes the subject change, and sticks to it.
"Was it supposed to be hard? If I photoshopped a picture of you without scars, you'd probably look just like your siblings."
"Shit, you're right. I should've grabbed Endeavor's credit card and used it for plastic surgery." Dabi replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. "How do you think I'd look with a nose job?"
"Terrible." Izuku doesn't miss a beat, a small smile creeping onto his face at the thought.
There's another long pause, and then Dabi lets out a heavy sigh.
"I'll eat. Later. Just...give me a minute."
The white haired boy nods, quiet relief behind his eyes as he turns away from the burned man. His boots crunch through the snow, replacing the quiet of the forest as he heads back to the mansion. Moonlight illuminates his retreating back as his footsteps grow quieter and quieter, until the silence of the snow covered clearing returns once more.
Magne(The Storyteller And The Voice Of Reason)
Creaaaaak.
Magne leans back in the old, creaky chair, ignoring the dust particles that fly up at her movement. Her magnet rests across her thighs, dully glinting in the low light.
I need to polish it soon.
She'll have to ask Kurogiri about getting her the polish and rag she'd left at her room in the bar. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too much of a burden on the already overworked man.
Creeeeeaaak.
The woman looks up as Spinner slips in, a notebook in his hand and a wince on his face as he quietly shuts the door behind him. She'll need to oil the hinges, too. Less noise, less chance of being caught. Spinner's green scales glint in the dim light as he turns around and sets the notebook down on the already paper-strewn coffee table she'd hauled in from one of the unused rooms.
Himiko grins and leans forwards, slipping the knife she'd been playing with into her sleeve before pulling out her own stack of papers and setting them down on top of the rest of the pile.
Creeeeeaaak.
Five heads snap towards the sound, only to see Dabi poking his head through the cracked door, the rest of his body hidden as he surveys the room with narrowed turquoise eyes.
"Chill. I invited him." Spinner says, and a few people glare at him; Magne just sighs and shakes her head.
"Come in." She gestures for Dabi to sit in one of the unoccupied chairs in the corner of the room.
Usually, those would be for Kurogiri and Mr. Compress(neither wanted to be in the middle of the sometimes violent outbursts that tended to flare up at these meetings), but neither could make it. Both made their excuses, something about an errand, and both vanished into thin air after dinner.
Magne saw right through it, of course. Neither were as discreet as they thought they were. But she didn't say anything, eyes shining with knowing amusement when she noted their quick disappearance, then moved on with her life. It's best not to make a big deal out of those sorts of things.
Dabi nods, pushing the door open fully to reveal a corkboard under his arm, along with red string, a plastic baggy full of photos and newspaper clips, a pen, and a box of multi-colored pushpins. She raises her eyebrows at the extensive supplies, but doesn't comment as Dabi shuffles to one of the open chairs with a tight grip on said supplies.
"Glad you finally decided to join us." Shigaraki speaks up from his shadowed seat in a green velvet armchair he had Kurogiri warp in here.
His red eyes glint in the dim light as he grins at Dabi.
Briefly, Magne wonders whether or not she'd regret showing up tonight; then decides that she will and that it doesn't matter. Someone needs to regulated the sheer chaos that is her colleagues fueled by murderous rage, and with Kurogiri gone, that task is left to her.
Besides, she has her own notebook to show off, along with an interesting tidbit of information she'd heard in her weekly online writers workshop she'd been in for years. One of the newer members is an investigative journalist(which they themselves have admitted to be the fancy term for paid stalker), and they'd been sniffing around heroes for the past couple of months...
"Now that we're all here," Shigaraki leans forward with a completely serious expression, an odd juxtaposition to his manic grin a few moments before. "Let's get started."
Somewhere in one of Fukuoka's cozy, lesser known countryside motels, Kurogiri feels a tug in his gut. He looks up from his glass of wine, scanning his surroundings out of habit as he clutches the glass tightly, ready to warp the nice new kitchenware out of the way—
"Is something the matter?" Atsuhiro asks, breaking his nervous rambling about white wine to rest a concerned hand on Kurogiri's arm.
The misty man shakes his head, firmly ignoring the feeling that indicated oncoming doom and finishing the rest of his wine in one gulp.
Atsuhiro raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile creeping across his uncovered face as he finishes his own wine with much more elegance.
"Shall I order another round for us?" His voice has a lilting, teasing quality to it as he smiles and squeezes Kurogiri's arm firmly.
Kurogiri pauses, taking a moment to soak in the contact and the hidden smile creeping across his own face in response to Atsuhiro's.
"Go ahead and get us a full bottle." He sighs, resting his hand over Atsuhiro's as he eyes the row of empty wine glasses lined up neatly at the edge of their table.
Hopefully, the mansion will be intact when they get back tomorrow. He's become quite fond of the spacious kitchen and it's high quality cookingware.
Eri dozes against Izuku's chest, her small, pale hands free of their usual oversized red gloves and hidden within the knit blanket covering them both. Warm sunlight streams down on them and the orange-patterned carpet they're sprawled across, dust motes becoming tiny, dancing embers beneath the sunlight as they float through the bedroom.
The carved parts of Magne's bedframe dig into Izuku's back and side somewhat uncomfortably, but he doesn't dare move for fear of disturbing the girl sleeping peacefully on his chest. His arm keeps her limp head up as he gently threads his fingers through her silvery hair, braiding small sections of it with pure concentration on his face.
Exhaustion lurks at the corners of his consciousness, but he firmly ignores his dry eyes and heavy eyelids. Even if he does give in to sleep, it won't be restful, so he continues playing with Eri's hair.
Soft squeaking sounds fill the air as Magne carefully polishes her magnet on the plush, cream colored loveseat pushed right below the open window.
It's the only piece of furniture in the room that matches the rest of the room, though she'd brought in several other chairs from other rooms(probably because of Himiko's tendency to stay in other people's bedrooms for hours), as well as a rather nice coffee table that looks like it's been stabbed forcefully more than once.
The faint smell of polish tickles his nose, its oddly sweet scent quickly aired out by the slightly opened window.
He'd been worried about the chemicals being around Eri at first, but she'd really wanted Magne to tell her a story, and Magne was quick to point out the child-safe label on the bottle, along with opening the window and providing them with a blanket from the top of her bed.
A faint breeze brushes Izuku's curls, and he pauses his work to carefully adjust the blanket a little more securely over Eri. The cold air might not affect him anymore, but it would definitely affect her, especially since she's still so small and thin. The last thing he wants is for her to get sick.
He lets out a quiet breath and turns back to his task, abandoning the strand he'd been working on in favor of a longer piece of hair. She really does need a trim. Maybe he could take her to a salon? It would be better to see a professional than trying it at home and completely messing it up at home because of inexperience...but Eri is wary around strangers, and he has the feeling she'd hate being touched by a stranger.
Izuku frowns, looking down at Eri. She's completely relaxed against him, eyes closed and face slack.
Let's not do anything to upset her.
Someone in the League might know how to do hair. But aside from Kurogiri, who already has a heavy workload that Izuku really doesn't want to add to, that's a very small might.
...Binging hair styling tutorials it is.
Maybe he should ask whoever was assigned to get groceries next week to get him a wig to practice on before he took scissors to Eri's hair...
"I noticed Dabi was at breakfast this morning." Magne says, her voice gently tugging him out of his thoughts.
The white haired boy smiles, remembering the man's snarky comebacks to Shigaraki's jabs as he added a bit of food from every dish he'd touched onto Izuku's plate. Everyone, even Kurogiri and Mr. Compress seemed more relaxed, which made for a nice breakfast.
"I, um, talked to him. The other day. It was…"
Honestly, he hadn't expected to see Dabi so soon. The memory of the heaving, trembling man with blood dripping down his white knuckles and the self-hatred in his turquoise eyes lingered in the back of his mind as he watched Dabi out of the corner of his eye. But, to his surprise, the blatant tension in his shoulders was almost gone this morning.
"I figured you did." Magne says with a fond huff of laughter. "He seemed a lot less...guilty, when I saw him last night."
The white haired boy smiles, a hint of sadness lingering behind his green eyes as he looks down at the little girl sleeping against him.
"Good. I wasn't sure whether or not I actually got through to him, but..." He trails off, head dipping as he focuses on a small knot in Eri's hair. "...I really hope that he'll be okay. Not just now."
Izuku sighs quietly, two sets of angry turquoise eyes overlapping in his mind.
"Overall, I guess. If that makes sense."
At her seat by the window, Magne's eyes grow distant. Her methodical polishing stops, task forgotten as her gaze drifts to the corkboard hidden under her bed, directly behind Izuku's back. A smile curves across her face, and she shakes her head, the bags under eyes feeling a bit heavier when she remembers last night's meeting.
The League Of Villains weren't what she was expecting from a group of career criminals(much less ones that had gained infamy for breaking into UA), and things had been awkward at first, since no one knew each other aside from Shigaraki and Kurogiri.
But as time went on, the disjointed pieces started to come together. The puzzle clicked in place, and suddenly, she had real, solid bonds with a group of people that cared for her and respected her for who she was. Compared to years of isolation and distinct feelings of otherness, it was truly wonderful.
Of course, they had their issues. When you were around the same people long enough, the cracks in their facades became easy to spot.
One of the first things she'd noted was Dabi's simmering anger that lurked beneath a thin veneer of calm was one of the first things that indicated that there were a lot of things he kept to himself. It was a self-destructive anger, one that Magne kept an eye on more out of concern than anything. He reminded her of herself in some ways, back when she'd velmently denied who she was for the sake of her strained relationship with her single dad.
It didn't work, for obvious reasons.
Her thoughts circle back to last night, remembering the scattered red string and clipped newspaper articles on the messy corkboard, along with the silent determination in the set of Dabi's jaw as he reviewed the summary of their notebooks.
"I think he'll get there, eventually." She finally settles on, picking up her forgotten rag and starting to polish her magnet once more.
Izuku looks up, face softening into a smile at her reassurance as his scarred hands rest in Eri's long hair. He ducks his head, hiding the smile and starting to fiddle with the silvery strands of hair as comfortable silence falls over them again.
A fresh beam of sunlight filters through the open window, bathing the two kids in warm light. It softens their features and scars, making them both look younger. More child-like. It's beautiful in its simplicity, a far cry from her usual preference of flamboyance and flaunting. And yet, Magne finds herself holding onto the domestic moment, letting the calm warmth settle in her chest.
Sometimes, the simplest of stories are the most beautiful.