As dawn approached, Izuho consigned Wakiya to the care of a blue sheet. They'd run out of white sheets by that point. Blue would have to do.
Dark Shadow was dead, or that was what every rumor said. Shigaraki and the revived familiar had taken their fight to the edge of the city in the end and Izuho hadn't heard from any primary witnesses. Shigaraki was supposedly fine, unfortunately... or mostly fine. Somebody said he looked pretty beaten up. As for Dark Shadow, there was no body, not that a lack of body meant anything when Shigaraki was involved. Dark Shadow could have escaped, but that would have required Dark Shadow to want to escape, which seemed pretty unlikely.
There went another friend.
Izuho had heard at least three people discussing the evident sabotage already. One conversation he overheard mentioned quite a few details about the break-in and subsequent nomu release, some of them correct others completely fanciful. What every story had in common was that someone had
managed to sneak into the test labs and release the "maladjusted beasts the PLF couldn't help." Nice euphemism for tortured, sapient experiments. There were no rumors as to how the break-in had occurred, other than something ridiculous about a shapeshifter turning into a mouse and crawling through air ducts. Hopefully the prevalence of that wild story meant nobody had a clue what had actually occurred rather than that somebody knew exactly what had occurred and was carefully keeping the information under wraps.
"I hate this war," Izuku said as he dragged himself to his feet.
"Where were you?" Sone demanded, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around.
"Hm?" Izuho asked, dizzy. He hadn't realized she was in the dust and ash frosted square let alone right behind him. Arashiro, Nishida and a handful of others trailed after her, some more stoic than others. Shimoda sniffled and refused to meet anyone's eyes, trying to hide tears. In contrast, Nishida's face could have been carved from stone.
"You should have been back! You were off duty long before this happened. Where were you?" Sone demanded. It was unclear whether she suspected Izuho of something or was just angry and needed someone to scream at with the reason for the screaming being of secondary importance.
Izuho shakily pulled out his ticket stub from the night before. "I went to see this terrible movie called Stormsurge. I left a bit before the end and I saw the fire as I was walking out..." Tears came unbidden. "I got here just in time to see Wakiya..."
Sone shoved him away, twirling on her heel as if about to start off on a parade march. "This is the safest place in the whole damn country," she snarled, "we shouldn't lose people here!"
Izuho was sorely tempted to apologize but held his tongue. She wouldn't react well to that. He didn't try to stop himself from sobbing, though. Shimoda patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. Arashiro, who looked more miserable than any of them, about as miserable as she had after Camie's death, kept her distance.
"There'll be a mass funeral next week," Sone told them hollowly, only a hint of rage left in her cracking voice, "just like any other battle. Alright, come on. Back to work with those of you on duty, back to bed with the rest. Nothing to be done here anymore."
The majority of the group began to trudge home. "Is it true Re-Destro's dead?" Nishida asked Izuho quietly.
"Yeah," he nodded. "The... escaped thing broke his neck, I saw it."
"He's not dead," Sone interrupted sharply. "He is badly injured, but not dead. We'll see him again soon." Huh. Well, it made sense that the PLF would leave the door open to bringing back one of their most powerful and symbolic generals as a nomu. There was no point in disputing the lie. It would just attract undue attention.
The idea that the PLF would put one of their own through that horrible process, though... every time Izuku thought his opinion of this flaming dump of vipers couldn't get any lower...
Rock bottom's basement had a subbasement.
He went back on duty as usual that night, the only addition being a heavy dose of exhaustion and a respirator. Izuku paced through the halls, past the scorch marks and the damage crews, the roped off corridors, the labs sealed with hazard signs, the fans working overtime to evacuate lingering smoke, the scorched painting of Shigaraki on a horse, and the men and women in hazmat suits scrubbing away at pools of blood. Ozone and acid and iron flooded the air, the noxious soup soaking into Izuku's clothes. It clung to him as he walked home, the stench, like the invisible mark of a terrible sin, something that could not be washed away, an eternal reminder of all the blood on his hands.
That the PLF had more blood on their hands, that the majority of those whose numbers came up for the final time last night deserved what they got, was irrelevant.
Wakiya... stripped of his place in society by a petty crime nobody would forgive him for, stripped of the last of his family by illness and war, stripped of his life by Fossa's hand and Dark Shadow's claws... Condensing Wakiya's life down into a story, there was nothing but a series of tragic events. Wakiya Tadasuke didn't deserve what he got. The man had offered Izuho friendship, offered Fossa and Izuku support when they pleaded for Sone to spare Uraraka's life... and what did Wakiya get in return? Killed. That didn't seem very fair did it?
"Why are you thinking about things being fair?" Izuho muttered to himself as he walked through the dark streets, skirting around the areas which had been closed for emergency repairs and the crews working round the clock to make those repairs. "It's never fair. You know that. Everybody knows that. Everybody deserved better," or almost everybody.
Seventy-eight confirmed fatalities, twice that many casualties... one general dead. Two friends dead. He had brought this horror show about in all its blood-soaked glory. Ah, for the days when Switcher told him "you take all the credit, I'll take all the blame ." All of this was on Izuku and Izuku alone.
And he'd do it again. Time after time he would walk home through the carnage with his clothes reeking of death and deny everything to his dearest friends with a perfectly straight face.
What had he made of himself?
Most of their squad were on duty now. Izuho and Arashiro might well be the only two present in their rooms, certainly the only two awake at this hour of the night.
"Where were you really?" Arashiro asked dreamily.
"Huh?" Izuho asked, not fully processing what she had said. He was trying to reread some of his favorite chapters in Vanguard with the hope of distracting himself enough to get some sleep but it
wasn't working and he'd definitely read this page a few times already without taking it in or remembering what was--
"Where were you last night, Mihara?" "I was at the movies--"
"No you weren't." She hummed, as if not fully present in the conversation. "I felt like I needed some company when I got off duty so I decided to join you after all." Fossa's blood ran cold. He knew what she was about to say. He knew how this conversation ended but Izuku couldn't take it. He couldn't take it, not after Dark Shadow and Wakiya and... he just couldn't. If you put enough pressure on a system, eventually something would have to give and what he would have to do here, he couldn't stand it. He already felt sick and he hadn't even let himself put the thoughts into full form yet. "I know you weren't in that theater."
"I left early."
"Don't lie to me!" Arashiro hissed, jumping down from her bunk even as Izuho stood from his, casting his book aside. "I know you can do it," she shook her head, almost hissing between clenched teeth, "I know you can look me in the eyes and say anything, I've seen you--when she betrayed us," Camie, unnamed but ever present, "and I told you that I turned her in and you said you forgave me but you didn't and you can just say it. Like you mean it. Now look me in the eyes. Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth!"
Fossa sighed and looked her in the eyes as requested. "What do you want, Arashiro?" The jig was up. There was no use denying anything at this point. "You could easily have told Sone this morning that I wasn't where I said I was and I would probably be dead or worse by now, or maybe not..." He might have been able to convince them that Arashiro was lying, frame her in his place. It would have been difficult, but Fossa certainly would have tried, ruthless creature that he was. "So why didn't you?"
"Tell me you didn't do this," she grabbed his shirt and shook him, just like all those months ago after the executions in Hosu, all the threads tying together as they came to an end. "Tell me it wasn't you, you didn't let the the nomus out. I couldn't--I couldn't, not another one, not another time--I just--! I wasn't sure! So I couldn't say!" or she convinced herself that she wasn't sure because she couldn't stomach sending yet another friend to a traitor's execution. Was it just the fact that he lied about seeing the movie that gave Fossa away? Or had she suspected Izuho's disguise already? He'd been too honest with her sometimes.
There was no point in a hollow denial. She knew. She didn't want to know, but she didn't have a choice. He remained silent. "Wakiya is dead because of you," she choked out. "How could--how could you?"
Rage burned through him. "How can you work for a man like Shigaraki," Fossa spat, "a man who steals bodies of innocent people and twists them into zombie demons to use as cannon fodder against enemies? A man who encourages his generals to murder prisoners and civilians and plans to turn the entirety of our country into his own personal dictatorship playground? How can you serve an organization that twists the names and the ideals of the MLA into something anathema to everything they ever stood for? Destro was a sweetheart. Fractal was quirkless. Tripswitch was murdered by Shigaraki's old boss, All For One, who was, in fact, the MLA's most hated enemy. Destro and all of his generals would have fought for the Chain, and the one general who is still alive outright said so on international news!"
She stared at him, disbelief and understanding both clear as glass on her face. "This isn't new...
when you told us about Fractal that night months ago..." Huh. She still remembered that story he'd told about the MLA when they huddled in the back of a truck fleeing from Felcia? "All this time?" she whispered. "Were you... the one who recruited Camie? Are you the one who turned her, who got her killed?"
That was some twisted logic there. "No," Fossa spat, "she made up her own mind, just like me," just like Arashiro when she turned Camie in. "We never knew."
They stared at each other for a time. It was Arashiro's move now. "You still killed Wakiya and maybe Re-Destro and all those others."
"This is war. What else is new?"
"He trusted you," she hissed, "you were tent mates for months! Does that mean nothing to you? We... do I mean nothing to you? Were you only ever pretending? Like her? Were you only ever using me? How can you," her lips curled in pain and rage, "how can you fake it like that? I can't believe--believe--even now I can't believe it!"
She didn't shout. They weren't quite whispering, but somehow Arashiro dared not raise her voice. She could scream right now, wake one of the sleepers in a neighboring room, and end all of this. But she didn't.
Izuku sighed, rage suddenly replaced by stomach-churning guilt. Oh, she cared so much. He cared, too, and yet his path was set in slate. He had used and betrayed her and he would do it again. He was the villain of her story, wasn't he? Her own personal monster. "No. No, I wasn't faking," he whispered. "It never... I..."
"You do care," she whispered. "But you did it anyway, because you really believe..." She stared out the small gap left by the curtains across the window, conflicts raging across her face like square waves on a tumultuous sea, then she came to a decision and the waves froze into an arctic ice pack. "And I have to do the same." She turned and made for the door. "I'm sorry, Mihara. You may have been... may be my friend, but you haven't left me a choice. Maybe it's not so different... from how you chose to do what you did," she choked back a sob, "even though you do care."
So. It was the tragic ending after all. For a moment, just a moment, Izuku had thought he might have won her over, that she might cross the lines and join him, that they could form a pair of spies, supporting and covering for each other, a duo so much more effective than a solo operative. What a fool he was. Even if Wakiya hadn't been killed, Arashiro would not have been able to see the forest of truth through trees of betrayal. The wound he had dealt her was too deep.
Fossa stepped in front of Arashiro, resigning himself to this inevitability just as he had resigned himself to Camie's execution. "You know I can't let you go now."
She glared at him. "If you want to stop me, you'll have to kill me." Still she did not scream.
"I know." Shock plain as day... "You didn't think I would." Really? After everything else she'd put together Arashiro didn't realize he would go this far? "Or were you just looking for a way out?" a solution where she didn't have to see another friend consigned to the executioner by her own pointed finger but also a solution where she didn't have to shoulder the herculean burden of allowing a traitor to walk free and do more damage.
She narrowed her eyes and settled into an opening stance. "I didn't come here to die!" she snarled, still quiet.
"Neither did I."
It was nothing like the fight between Fossa and Nagant. It was more like Fossa's ambush of the lab tech the previous night. Arashiro had improved by leaps and bounds since basic, becoming a very competent fighter, but a lot of that improvement was a result of things that Izuho practiced with her and Arashiro, unlike Fossa, couldn't bring herself to fight all out against her friend.
She had come here to die, whether she consciously knew it or not.
He caught her in the throat to muffle what would have, at last, been a scream for help then whirled behind her to lock his elbow around her neck. He adjusted the choke hold, forcing her head down to cut off the blood flow.
She struggled, tried to kick him, managed to rake her shoe down his shin, but couldn't shake him.
He had her on the ground in a few more seconds, unconscious although that would only last seconds.
Fossa couldn't use a knife here; it would be too hard to clean the blood. He had to break her neck, or smother her.
Come on. Come on. Finish what you started, Fossa. She made her choice and sealed her fate. Now do the noble thing, Izuku, and put the feelings aside for the sake of the millions of people suffering at the hands of the PLF and the millions more doomed to suffer if the PLF gained their victory. Fossa was in a prime spot here and he had gotten away with everything so far. There was so much more damage he could do to the Citadel. Fossa had a part to play in the war. It didn't matter that Arashiro was like Izuho's sister. It didn't matter that she was a good person. It didn't matter that she spared Izuku's life today by confronting him here rather than passing on her suspicions to Sone. It didn't matter that it wasn't fair. It was exactly the same situation as Nagant; it was irrelevant whether Arashrio was an angel or demon. She knew what Fossa did and if he let her go she'd send Izuku to his death. Come on! Stop being an emotional little coward, Izuku. Suck it up and do what has to be done! He had to finish what he started, no matter--no matter what pain it brought.
Come on.
He took Arashiro Haruka's head between his hands. She blinked, gazing up at him in a terrified, disbelieving, semi-concious haze... resignation lurking in the depths of her eyes.
He hated this miserable war.
Come on, Izuku. Fossa knew what had to be done. Just let him handle it.
Damn it. Why did she make him do this? "Screw you, Arashiro," Fossa hissed, moving his hands from her head down to her neck as if strangling her might be easier than snapping her neck.
Come on. It was easy. He'd done it so many times before. He had to--had finish--finish what he-- He couldn't do it.
He just couldn't do it.
His hands fell away from her throat.
Arashiro collapsed forward and coughed, heaving in a breath, struggling to her knees, choking air
through a ruined throat.
Fossa, working damage control now that he'd found the line Izuku just wouldn't let him cross under any circumstances, picked the only remaining solution and smashed a drinking glass on the floor then pinned Arashiro again. She didn't put up more than a token resistance as he once again choked her unconscious. He gathered a handful of glass and globed her effortlessly. She, after all, was somebody he desperately wanted to keep with him. The possessive emotions rose to the surface with hardly a thought.
Okay. Okay. Now what? Fossa panted and stared at the limp figure of Arashiro sprawled out on the bottom of a snow globe.
His hands shook uncontrollably. He didn't want to think or feel or plan or anything he just... wanted to sleep. Sleep. Yes.
He shoved Arashiro's globe beneath his pillow. It was nothing more than a token effort to hide what he had done; there was still broken glass on the floor. Whatever. If they caught him they caught him. Whatever.
He just didn't care anymore.