Izuku made his way through the halls of the Hero Commission headquarters, his friends behind him, still stunned by how impossibly close he'd come to stopping a war, only to fail.
So close. So fucking close. He'd nearly had the commissioners convinced…only for that fucking video, broadcast to the entire city, to ruin everything.
Perhaps the worst part was that Izuku knew he couldn't even be mad. The commissioners had acted reasonably, as far as they were concerned-presented with a threat, they refused to bow to it, and acted to protect the people who had been threatened. Equally, Izuku couldn't even blame Tokoyami for the video-he'd made every effort to preserve the possibility of peace, but even as he made it, the mutant leader had clearly known it was a distant hope, and was prepared accordingly.
Nobody was wrong, nobody was foolish-and it was going to destroy them all.
Abruptly, Izuku was jolted from his thoughts by an all-too-familiar man stepping up to him.
"Atlas," Mayor Takao said, all honey and false smiles. "May I have a word?"
Izuku gritted his teeth, hands clenching into fists. Just what he fucking needed. Behind him, he felt Ejiro's questioning stare on the back of his neck.
"Mayor Takao," Izuku said, just formally enough to make it quite clear how much he disdained the ratlike man, "Now is really not the time, I'm afraid."
He moved to step past Takao, but the man sidestepped, remaining in front of him. "Ah ah ah," Takao tutted. "I'm afraid now is the time, Atlas. Or did you forget something important?"
The confused stares from his friends were bad enough, Izuku decided. But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't just brush the man aside and keep walking like he desperately wanted to. As fucked as things were rapidly becoming, Takao still held a sword to his throat in the form of those fucking pictures, and Izuku only had enough time and energy to focus on one crisis at a time.
Growling under his breath, Izuku sighed, "Very well, Takao. Ejiro, I'll catch up to you guys. Head to Aegis, we'll meet there to decide our next steps."
Ejiro, bless his heart, nodded-though the look in his eyes suggested he fully expected to be given an explanation later. Izuku decided to provide one the first chance he got. He was done lying to Ejiro-done lying to all his friends.
One by one, Ochako, Momo, and Kugo filed past him and Takao, following Ejiro. He met their questioning stares evenly, though he guarded his features as best he could. He didn't dare do anything less, with Takao standing right there.
Once his friends had left, Takao gestured towards an empty room, and Izuku tiredly followed him inside, closing the door behind them.
The room had enormous, floor-to-ceiling windows carved from the rock, providing a grand view of the Underground; said grand view, of course, looked out over miles and miles of glittering windows similarly hewn into stone, shimmering like tens of thousands of stars. In the distance, the twin statues at the center of the district twinkled. The sight of those hundred-foot bronze likenesses of Craton and Faultline, locked in eternal combat, made Izuku want to laugh.
Such a wonderful lie it was. The whole damn city, built on one enormous erasure of history. The very founding myth of the Underground-the root of the divide between it and the Depths, the source of so much pain and blood-was complete and total bullshit. How fucking fitting.
Takao stepped up to the windows, and Izuku reluctantly followed. Takao's arms were folded behind his back, his expression thoughtful, even pensive. Izuku didn't trust it for a second.
"Before we get into it," Takao began, "Allow me to say that I am genuinely glad to see you alive and well. Your death would have been a great tragedy for the city-indeed, the whole country."
Izuku snorted, having long since discarded any trust or belief in Takao's ability to feel anything genuine. "Thanks," he said humorlessly. "But I'm sure you would have found a way to exploit it, regardless."
Takao looked up at him. When Izuku simply met his eyes evenly, the mayor chuckled heartily. "You learn fast, Atlas," he said. "In fact, I already had; sadly, your grand entrance spoiled my fun. But hey, that's how politics goes sometimes. Back to my original plan, I suppose."
Izuku raised an eyebrow. "Your original plan?" he repeated. "What, blackmailing me and leveraging hatred against mutants to secure power for another five years?"
Takao smiled. "Precisely," he agreed. "I'm glad we're on the same page. Speaking of which…that campaign gala you'll be attending? It starts in…roughly twenty-four hours, I believe."
Izuku's eyes went wide. Takao couldn't be serious. "Wait, you're still going to do that?" he asked, disbelieving. "Did you miss the fact that we're at war?"
Takao's smile didn't change. "Of course I know that, Atlas," he snorted. "I just don't care. So what if some mutants are getting uppity? The election is still getting closer, and I still need your public support. So, it's still going to happen. The show must go on, you know-perhaps it will even reassure the people!"
The mayor's sheer audacity had to count for something, Izuku supposed. Crossing his arms, he replied, "You're insane-and you and I both know you care about "the people" as much as you care about privacy laws."
Takao grinned. "My, my," he tutted. "Whatever did I do to you to earn such animosity?"
"Spied on me and my girlfriend, used that to blackmail me, tried to exploit my supposed death for political gain, and endangered thousands of people so you can have a fucking party while the city is at war," Izuku replied, perfectly deadpan. "Believe me, you've earned much worse than my disrespect."
Takao blinked at that, seemingly surprised. Then, his cocky expression returned, reminding Izuku that he still held all the power here. Whistling, he said, "Well, then. Seems kitty's grown some claws."
"I've done more than that, you bastard," Izuku rumbled, arms still crossed and the faintest ghost of lightning flickering across his tensed muscles. "I'm done playing your games. I'm not going to your stupid gala."
Takao stopped laughing. He met Izuku's eyes, and Izuku saw the familiar steel there. "Allow me to make it clear, Atlas," he said. "I am not asking. I am ordering. Or do you think the world will be less enraged to find out you've been compromised by a mutant woman, just before mutants attack the city and you refuse to fight them?"
Izuku's eyes widened at that. "That is not what she's done, and you know it," he snapped.
Takao shrugged. "I'm a politician, remember?" he replied with a wink. "What I know is up for negotiation. And you, my friend, have no cards to play. Perhaps the country won't believe the spin my friends in the media will put on it-but they don't have to. Do you think anyone will take your campaign for peace with the mutants seriously if they think you're doing it because of the woman you're fucking?"
Izuku growled-but he didn't argue. He knew how the media-not to mention public opinion-worked by now. And Takao was a master of that game. "You're a bastard," he spat.
Takao turned around, laughing. "I thought that was clear after I showed you those pictures, Atlas," he chuckled. "Now, that's all I had to say. Oh-and maybe get cleaned up before the gala. You look like shit."
Takao headed for the door, while Izuku could only grit his teeth. Goddamnit.
He whirled around just as Takao's hand fell on the doorknob.
"After this is over," he rumbled, voice harsh and dark, "I'll be coming for you. You won't get away with this."
Takao turned, just briefly, to laugh at Izuku. "My boy," he said, "I have no doubt you'll try. It'll be a lovely challenge-if we all live that long, of course. Do your best not to get killed, if you would-I haven't had that sort of fun in years."
With that, he closed the door, and left Izuku somewhere between fuming and resignation. He'd play along-but only for now. As soon as the Outcasts were dealt with-one way or the other-he'd set his sights on Takao. He could do nothing less, for Mina's sake. If they ever wanted to truly be free to be together, the mayor had to go.
He reached for his phone, and found Ejiro's contact. It was time to explain himself-and prepare for a war he didn't want to fight.
Down in the dark, Mina crept through the winding tunnels, where the shadows felt thick and heavy, crowding in with each breath. Every step deeper into the maze made the world seem to fade away, the scraped-smooth rock inching closer as the tunnels narrowed, to the point where Mina felt sure she would have to duck.
She didn't, but it was a near thing; these caves were so low, so claustrophobic, that nobody had ever lived here. She was used to it, though; even the more populated parts of the Depths were claustrophobic to an outsider, and Mina had long practice in slipping through the cracks and crevices of the earth.
At last, she emerged into a larger cavern, the claustrophobic tunnel opening up with no warning at all into a soaring gallery that could have swallowed a two-story house with room to spare. It was nearly round, and utterly black, save for a single string of dim lightbulbs that ran along the uneven ceiling like spines along an animal's back. They flickered distantly, almost like stars.
And there were people here, too-her people. Mutants, misshapen figures that huddled in the corners, watching her with wary eyes.
Except…something was different about these mutants. They weren't wearing the full-body cloaks commonly worn, even down here; their eyes watched Mina's unfamiliar form with curiosity, not hostility. They talked and joked with one another, gathering around lamps and candles that supplemented the overhead lights. They seemed…happy, almost. At ease-a concept so foreign to Mina that seeing it here set off alarm bells. Nervously, she pulled up the hood of her cloak and drew it tight, knowing that if she was seen, she would likely be recognized-and if she was recognized, she was dead.
At the far end of the long, low cavern was a massive doorway, guarded by a man with the head and horns of a bull. Well, "guarded" was a strong term; he wasn't stopping anyone from going through the door. Indeed, there was a steady stream of people flowing in both directions-some coming into the cavern, some heading through the veil of heavy fabric to whatever lay beyond. The man spoke with them, occasionally letting out the kind of deep belly laugh that could warmed the soul like a campfire, instantly putting anyone at ease.
Mina watched the man warily for a moment, then took a deep breath. There was no other way to get through to the other side than to hope the man wouldn't stop her. She stepped forwards.
The man's hand landed on her shoulder.
"Hello, friend," he said in a deep voice. "I don't believe I recognize ya."
Mina's whole body went tense, and her sharp intake of breath was loud enough that the man heard it. She stepped backwards, already tensing to throw a ball of acid into his eyes, prepared to fight-
The man removed his hand from Mina's shoulder, and raised both of his palms upwards towards the ceiling, as if to surrender. His words, though, were strange. "Ah, forgive me," he said kindly. "No worries, friend-I don't mean ya any harm."
Mina stayed tense, but tilted her head, confused. The acid in her palm slowly dripped away.
"It's okay," she said eventually, deciding to take the risk. "You just startled me, that's all."
The man nodded. "Makes sense," he agreed. "I forget sometimes, how jumpy newbies can be."
"Newbies?" Mina repeated, confused. "Why do you think that's what I am?"
The man nodded. "We've been getting way more of them lately," he told her. "Ever since the Boss took out Atlas, in fact. The fact that he's told us he's planning something big helps too-every fighter in the Depths has been coming here. And as for how I know-it's your cloak. So many of us used to have to hide what we are-but not anymore. You don't gotta hide here."
Mina's heart jumped into her throat. Shit. If just the act of hiding her face marked her out here, she couldn't possibly get close to Fumikage. She was fucked.
The man saw her hands fly to the edge of her hood unconsciously, and raised a hand, seemingly misinterpreting the gesture. "Ah, don't you worry, you don't gotta take it off if you don't want to," he assured her. "It takes plenty of people time to get used to the idea of showing their face, and we ain't gonna force ya. Go at your own pace, friend."
The feeling that Mina felt rise up in her chest was too messy, too complicated to purely be relief-but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Instead, she said, "Thank you. I'll…keep it on, then."
The man smiled, though he seemed a little sad-perhaps that was pity in his eyes, then? "In that case," he told her, reaching behind him to push aside the fabric hanging in the doorway, "welcome to Homeland."
Mina nodded once, and stepped through into a scene that took her breath away.
Homeland was like no part of the Depths she'd ever seen before. It was bright, for one thing, a riot of light and color and sound, full of mutants who thronged the busy streets. It was clean and shockingly orderly, too-houses seemed constructed according to a plan, and the streets were a grid, rather than the labyrinthine mess other parts of the Depths like this usually ended up with.
Mina shook her head to clear it. She wasn't here to see the sights, or to bask in the mad beauty of a city of mutants like this. She had to find Fumi. With practiced ease, she slipped into the crowd, drawing nothing more than a few amused looks from people who, like the man at the gate, seemingly dismissed her cloak as a lingering safety blanket.
It was shockingly easy to find Fumikage, in the end; Mina just followed the sound of raucous cheering.
It turned out to be coming from a huge crowd of people gathered around a square that contained one of the city's many pools of geothermal water. Even from the edge of the crowd, Mina recognized the black-clad figure standing at the center of the square.
It was Fumi-and he'd apparently just finished speaking to the crowd, as he was stepping down off of a tall box that had served as a podium.
"Well, then," a tall, burly man with scales instead of skin said in front of Mina. "The attack is tomorrow, then."
The woman beside him ran twelve-fingered, gnarled bark hands through her hair as she chuckled. "About damn time," she agreed. "He said twenty-four hours, right?"
As several people near them chorused confirmation, Mina's eyes went wide. That was vital information the heroes desperately needed to know-her trip here had been just in time.
But she wasn't here to collect information-and she knew there was still a chance she wouldn't get out of here to relay it anyway.
Mina took a deep breath and focused on Fumikage as the crowd began to break up. Just the sight of him made all the emotions she was still repressing bubble up in her chest. Shock that he was alive, joy that she hadn't lost him, confusion about how he was still alive…
Horror at the knowledge that she had chosen to betray him. Rage that he had abandoned them, that he had let them think he was dead-and that he had tried to kill Mina and the man she loved.
Mina watched as Fumikage said something to the man next to him, a man with bladelike tusks-the one who Kugo had described all those weeks ago. The man visibly protested, but Fumikage simply repeated it, and the protest became a defeated sigh of acceptance. With that, instead of going with the group of what Mina assumed were bodyguards, Fumikage turned the other way and headed towards the outskirts of Homeland-alone. Not even the crowd of well wishers followed him, once he raised his head and seemingly asked them not to.
It was at that point that Mina realized how exhausted Fumi looked. Someone who didn't know him might not have recognized it, thanks to his inhuman face, but Mina had known him since they were twelve. She could read him like an open book-even after six years of grieving and the horrible battle at the Chasm, she knew him.
That made it hurt even more.
It was simple to stay undetected as she tailed him towards the edge of the city; Fumikage clearly didn't expect to be followed, and Mina had been a master of stealth since childhood, out of sheer necessity. Slowly but surely, she tracked him, until at last, he looked around and slipped into a tiny opening in the wall at the very edge of Homeland.
Mina considered for a moment, staring at that opening. The fact that Fumikage had gone here alone-and that there were no guards at this opening and nobody else exiting or entering-suggested that it wasn't an entrance to Homeland like the way she'd come into the city. It was probably a minor side cave, or some sort of private room-or else it simply led nowhere of importance. In other words, it was the most perfect opportunity to speak to him alone she would ever get.
It also meant that, if he attacked her, there would be no escape…but some part of Mina still believed, so fervently she couldn't disagree, that Fumi would never hurt her. Even though he already had-even though her neck still ached from where his shadowy claws had dangled her over a bottomless pit, before letting her drop.
That was nothing new, though-Mina knew, on top of everything else she was, she had always been a fool. She slipped into the tiny crevice with ease, and disappeared from view.
The cave beyond was narrow, dark, and winding, but thankfully short. Before long, it had opened up into a small room, pitch black except for a lantern on the ground that cast the space into frightful, shifting shadow.
Noiselessly, Mina stepped into the room; Fumikage had his back turned to her as he sat on the stone floor, meditating in front of the lantern. Dark Shadow's form swirled around him, freer and more expressive than Mina had ever seen before. It was deeply unnerving to see the monstrous shadow curl almost affectionately around Fumikage's forearm, face-to-face with him as if in conversation. For all Mina knew, they were-Fumikage had never mentioned it, but she, Mezou, and Tsu had always known that most of his conversation with Dark Shadow happened telepathically, utterly unknowable to anyone but them.
At last, Mina found her nerve. In a voice that was cold and coarse with restrained emotion, she announced, "So, this is what the leader of the Outcasts does in his spare time. Sit in the dark talking to himself."
Fumikage's eyes snapped open, and in an instant he was on his feet, immense shadowy claws striking out for Mina's throat. She leaped backwards, narrowly dodging, but her back struck the stone wall, leaving her utterly defenseless as his next swipe closed in-
Just before he struck, Fumikage finally processed who she was, and stopped himself. His claws vanished instantly as he whispered in disbelief, "M-Mina?"
Taking a deep breath and forcing herself to put her cold, angry mask back on, Mina nodded defiantly. "Who else would it be?" she scoffed.
Fumikage's expression was utterly dumbfounded; he stared at her and trembled a little, as if he wasn't sure if she was real or a ghost. "You're alive?" he whispered, still shaking. "How?"
Mina nodded, eyes still hard. "No thanks to you," she snorted.
Fumikage barely even seemed to hear her. He stepped forwards, looking like a man who had just been saved-only to stop as Mina raised a hand, acid boiling in her palm as a warning.
"Don't come any closer," she snapped.
Fumikage's eyes were glistening with tears, now. He looked as if he wanted to argue, but said nothing. Hanging his head, he said quietly, "I…I can't believe you're still alive."
Mina snorted, and said nothing. The hate was flowing easily, now; she didn't dare hope it would stay that way. Not when this was Fumi in front of her.
Suddenly, Fumi's expression changed, eyes darkening. "If you survived," he said more coldly, "then…Atlas is alive too, isn't he?"
Mina said nothing, gave no response…but whatever evidence Fumikage was looking for, he seemed to find it in his eyes. Clenching his fists, he sighed, "Of course he is. My job is never finished."
Mina's eyes narrowed. "Your job?" she repeated with a hiss. "Is that all you care about, Fumi? Is that why you left us? Six goddamn years, I grieved for you-we grieved for you!"
Fumikage bowed his head somberly. "Closer to five," he replied. "But…that doesn't change the facts. Yes, I did leave."
Mina's voice caught in her throat, suppressing a sob. "Where have you been?" she demanded. "We…we thought you were dead, you asshole!"
She took another step closer, as if she was about to punch Fumikage-who was still surrounded by the swirling, nebulous Dark Shadow-and damn the consequences.
Fumikage held his ground, though his expressions were hard to read through the web of shadows covering his birdlike features. "I had to leave," he said softly. "I know it hurt you, I know it hurt Mezou and Tsu, but-"
"But nothing," Mina snarled. "You fucking left us, Fumi. We looked for you. We looked everywhere."
Fumikage flinched, though it didn't affect the shadows that continued seethe across his body.
"I know that there's nothing I can say," he told Mina quietly. "I know I can never make up for what I did. But I want you to know that I am sorry."
Mina felt something in her heart break loose, struggling to force its way past the rage she maintained like a lid on a pot of boiling water. She didn't want to know what might escape if she failed to keep it contained.
"I'm glad you feel that way," she said scathingly. "But trying to fucking kill me, Fumi? After everything? What happened to you?"
Mina hated the way her voice broke as she finished speaking, hated how her grief and desperate desire to forgive him seeped through the cracks in her walls.
Fumi shook his head; to Mina's surprise, he didn't ask how she had lived or demand answers. Perhaps he knew it didn't matter-or perhaps he had already guessed. Instead, he looked her in the eye, and asked, "Mina. You stood between me and Atlas. What else could I do?"
Even though she'd said those words herself, even though she agreed with him, knew the truth in her heart, Mina refused to concede. Full of desperate fury, she nearly shouted, "You could've proved that pulling me from that trash pile all those years ago meant something, Fumi! You could've made me think you cared, that you didn't abandon me!"
Fumikage flinched hard at that; he looked as though he could fall apart at any moment. But he couldn't, not with his eyes so full of righteous anger.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked, voice so low it was nearly a growl. "Give up everything I worked for because you love a hero? Surrender any chance of making people believe in our chance to change things, for the sake of a man who oppresses us, all because you think you love him?"
Mina's eyes grew even more dangerous. "Think I love him?" she repeated, rage growing until it nearly consumed her. "Think I love him?"
Fumikage met her eyes. "What do any of us know about love?" he asked. "What do you know about it? How do you know you're not…some toy for him?"
Mina stepped forwards, palms coated with acid. In that moment, she was unafraid, proud, brave, all the things she struggled so hard to be when it came to Izuku. In a low, deadly tone, she growled, "I am not the twelve-year-old girl you took off the streets anymore, Fumi. And I'm not the teenager you abandoned, either. I love him. I'm not ashamed in the fucking slightest about that. I love a hero, old friend. Fucking deal with it. Call me a whore, or a traitor, or whatever the hell else you want to call me. I. Don't. Care. He loves me, and I love him. That's about the only thing I know for sure anymore."
Fumikage held her eyes, and Mina saw the guilt there-along with the steel. "I would never call you any of those things," he replied. "And…and I understand. I apologize."
Mina scoffed. "Fuck your apologies," she snapped. "You should know what those are worth to me by now."
Fumikage struggled to meet her eyes; both of them were shards of broken glass, splintering and shattering, deadly and destructive as they fell apart.
"My problem is with him, not you-" Fumikage began.
"If you try to hurt him, your problem is with me," Mina interrupted. "And I don't care what you've convinced yourself of, but he is not our enemy. He's a good hero."
Fumikage snorted at that. "Not your enemy," he agreed. "But he is mine. He's still a hero, a tool of the people who keep us down here, treat us like fucking animals. He may not personally agree with every part of the system that they've built on our backs-but he still enforces it."
Mina felt something in her heart wince at that, at the truth. Desperately, she snapped, "You don't know him, Fumi. I do. You don't understand how hard he's tried to fix things, how hard he's fighting right now to stop this war."
Fumikage glared at her. "That's why he is my enemy, Mina!" he nearly shouted. "He's trying to stop me."
Eyes wide as she realized her mistake, Mina hastily said, "By giving you what you want, Fumi! He agrees with you!"
Fumikage stepped forwards, until his claws were once more inches from Mina's throat. "I don't care if he agrees with me or not, Mina," he hissed. "That's not the problem here. Because if he gives us what we want, what's to stop the heroes from taking it back once your boyfriend is gone? Our rights can't be gifts from those in power, because they'll think that they can revoke it whenever they want. We need to take them. I don't just want to force the abovegrounders to give us everything they stole from us-I want them to be afraid of what will happen if they ever try to take them back."
Mina…struggled to find an argument against that. It appealed to her, she couldn't deny it. It felt right. But then…so did what Izuku wanted.
"There can still be peace," she pleaded. "Please, Fumi. For me-for the people who follow you. Don't do this."
Fumikage looked away from her for a long, hollow moment. When he met her eyes again, it was the leader of the Outcasts, the undisputed king of the Depths, who stared back at her.
"My people," he spat, "are the ones who want war. Every one of them has been hurt by the abovegrounders; all of us have been abused and mistreated for too long. We want justice, Mina, not blood for the sake of blood. I wanted peace for so long-fought for it. But Atlas attacked me, not the other way around. And you chose his side over mine. So…as much as I wish otherwise, there can't be peace. Not anymore."
Mina was silent. She had said so many of the things that Fumikage just had herself-hadn't she told Izuku before how exhausting it was, having to constantly be afraid?
In the long silence that followed, where it felt like none of them quite knew what to do, Fumikage raised his yellow-red eyes to meet Mina's gaze once more. He told her, "I won't be a fool and ask you to join me. I know you wouldn't-I can see it in your eyes, even if I didn't know you so well. Your heart's always been too big for this place, Mina. I'm glad you found someone you love as much as you love him, I really am. And just this once…I'll let you go. I don't want to have to kill a friend today. Go back to him. Steal whatever happiness you can. I…can give you that much."
Fumikage trailed off, his soft, deadly words ringing in the still, silent cave. Gradually, Dark Shadow pulled back, retreating away from the entrance to the cave. With the darkness pulled back, Fumikage almost looked like a normal man again, exhaustion plain in his eyes. He looked pained, and tired-but the steel in his eyes was utterly unbreakable. There was strength enough in that gaze to burn the world.
Mina stayed silent as Fumikage turned to leave. He walked towards the exit at the far side of the cave, shadows warping as he walked.
Then, at last, Mina spoke. "You didn't used to be so angry," she said sadly. Her eyes were distant, as she recalled happier memories, from better times.
Fumikage half-turned back, one large eye fixed on her, boring into her soul. The shadow of the beast he carried with him was still, for just a moment.
"I always was," he corrected her, his voice soft and distant, gentle in the way you could only be with someone you truly loved-and somber in the way you can only be when you know that it didn't matter anymore. "From the day I understood that I was lesser, that my life was worthless to the people who live aboveground, I have been angry. From the day I met you, and saw the most incredible person I know huddled in a pile of trash, cold and alone and hungry and hated, I've been planning this day. How could I not? With the way we've been forced to live, how the heroes treat us, could I do anything else?"
Mina knew the answer was no, knew that nothing she could say could change anything anymore. Maybe it never could have. But still, she had to try. For Izuku, she had to stand beneath the falling boulder and try to catch it. "I found a way," she whispered. "I found a way to bridge the gap. A way to love a hero and hate what he does-to try and teach him how to change."
Fumikage shook his head. "And I can't," he said, quietly and sadly. "You've always been a better person than me, Mina. But this, what we've been through…it's too much. Anybody would be enraged. Don't tell me you aren't. From the day I met you, you had the same anger in your eyes. You hide it, like I used to, but it's still there."
Even as she cried inside, Mina's eyes were hard and unforgiving. "I'm not the one who's built an army," she said darkly.
Fumikage snorted in acknowledgement. "I built it for you, you know," he told her. "Because of you. From the day I met you, I knew you deserved better than this. For someone like you to rot underground because of what you look like-that sin is unforgivable. I won't let any more children grow up the way we did. I don't care what I have to do, but there will be no more orphans."
Mina growled at that, stray drops of acid dripping from her fingers. "I am not a justification," she hissed. "Don't you dare try to hide behind my name to avoid admitting what you've done."
Fumikage scoffed, turning one last time to meet her eyes. "But I do admit it," he replied, spreading his arms wide, a bitter, self-mocking smile twisting his beak. "Every deal with the devil, every sacrifice, every mistake-I own them all. I'm a bitter, damaged man with a chip on his shoulder and an army of morally dubious criminals behind him. I've hurt the people who care about me, and abandoned the most wonderful person I ever knew to heartbreak and hunger to chase my dream. And that doesn't change what I'm going to do."
Mina…had nothing to say to that. Not anymore. She could feel the time for words slipping away, and something vital going with it. Scathingly, she told him, "Well, at least you're honest."
Fumikage smiled wryly. He obviously felt the shift, too-but still had enough time, enough love left for one last gentle moment. "Years ago, I promised you I would never lie to you," he told her sadly. "After everything, after all the other promises I broke…I can at least keep that one."
Then, he stepped away, into the tunnel, and the shadows were still.
Mina was, at last, alone.