Kuri brushed a lock of hair from her face, mind mushy from the sensation of Bakugo's warm hand on her shoulder and her own arm around his waist. She had managed to fool him into thinking she had no hard feelings about the kiss nor anything preceding it. However, unbeknownst to Bakugo, Kuri's heart was torn. Though, that was an issue to address later. Focus, she told herself over and over.

With Bakugo awkwardly propping her up, Kuri scanned the hall again, wondering which door to try first. Her eyes skirted to the floor, where she noticed Bakugo's discarded gauntlets.

"Um, you probably need those," Kuri said, pointing at the grenade-shaped objects.

"Ah, shit." They shuffled over, and Bakugo momentarily left Kuri unattended to grab them. She balanced on one leg until he was by her side again. Bakugo handed a gauntlet to her. She looked down at it, gripping it with one hand, then back up at him confusedly. "You're vulnerable now that your leg is injured," he said. "Just borrow it for now."

"Thanks," Kuri said quietly, sliding her right arm into the gauntlet. She studied it with care. Besides Bakugo, this was the only protection Kuri had against the vigilantes. Kuri hated the feeling of defenselessness, but she figured she deserved some kind of punishment for her attempted murder.

"So, what even is this 'memory core?'" Bakugo asked, pulling Kuri from her thoughts. "You didn't explain."

"Oh, I didn't? Must've gotten sidetracked," Kuri said, chuckling at herself halfheartedly. "It's just a place that houses Hayami's memories. Y'know, since dreams function a lot in memory."

"You're saying these doors lead to her memories?"

"Yeah, pretty sure," Kuri said with a shrug.

"All of the doors?" Bakugo said, raising a concerned eyebrow.

"If you're asking if one of them may be an exit, my answer is I don't know," Kuri said, giving him an apologetic look. "But, we can find out." She urged him to shuffle forward toward the nearest door, then placed her hand on the doorknob. Kuri could feel it pulsing faintly in time with the light emitting from the walls. She pushed the door open slowly, allowing thick, swirling mist to pour into the hall. Beyond the doorframe was as white as the rest of the room. Kuri and Bakugo shared a wordless look. She could see the doubt in his stare, and his grip on her shoulder tightened slightly. Suppressing the fear in her heart and the complex feelings she felt towards Bakugo at the moment, Kuri squeezed out a small, reassuring smile for him. His eyes softened, and they both turned their heads away. Kuri gathered up what courage she had left and limped forward, hauling Bakugo along as they stepped into the fog.

It's the bedroom from the second layer—the extravagant room belonging to a child. The afternoon is waning, leaving orange streaks in the purple sky visible from the large, open windows. Hayami is there, her blue hair pulled up into afro-pigtails. She couldn't be more than five years old. She lies on the cream-carpeted floor, a stack of papers and an array of coloring supplies spread around her. Hayami doodles absentmindedly. Her eyelids droop, and she rests her head on her arm, clearly tired. A young maid wearing the same get-up Kuri had on before tidies an already-neat bed.

Hayami's head nods as she battles her sleepiness. The maid notices and goes to awaken Hayami for suppertime. As her hand plants on Hayami's back to coax her out of her half-slumber, both disappear. Hayami's quirk has manifested.

Click.

The door shut, making a soft noise as it latched back into place, and Kuri found herself in the hallway again. She couldn't help but stare at the closed door in shock. They'd really entered a memory. It was one of the strangest sensations she'd ever experienced—stranger even than the rest of the dreamscape. In the memory, Kuri hadn't had a body or much of a consciousness. The experience left a weird sensation in her mouth, like the aftertaste of something past its prime. And yet, she was curious to see more. Would the past events inform them on how to stop the vigilantes? Would one of the doors lead to the exit? Kuri wanted to find out. And in a strange sense, seeing Hayami's path from pampered child to murderous vigilante intrigued her.

"That… was weird," Bakugo exhaled. An understatement, for sure.

"Let's try another," Kuri said. Bakugo nodded, and Kuri hurried them to the next door.

Hayami again, now markedly older. Perhaps a decade has passed. It's her first day of school at UA. Hayami is bright-eyed and anxious to make a good impression on her peers. She has her hair in braids—a style she would keep for years to come. Hayami twirls a plait around her finger as the bell rings, signaling the start of lunch. Hayami is unsure who to eat with, not having clicked with anyone in her class yet. She is relatively new to the whole friend-making business. She stands up hesitantly but suddenly hears a voice addressing her from behind and turns around. A short girl with hot pink hair pulled back into a small ponytail at the nape of her neck stands before her. She sports a self-assured grin as she introduces herself as Nana Sakamoto and asks if Hayami wants to get lunch with her. A smile spreads across Hayami's face as excitement for the next chapter of her life swells within her.

Click.

Hayami and Nana are sitting in the cafeteria. It seems to be later in the school year, as they have switched to their summer uniforms. Nana chews on the straw of her juice box frustratedly. She is grumbling to Hayami about receiving a lecture from the teacher about a remark she made in class earlier that day.

"UA is so stupid sometimes," Nana says through gritted teeth. Hayami furrows her brow in concern. "Why are they so against killing villains? I think it'd deter crime a lot better…"

"How so?" Hayami says cautiously, not wanting to offend Nana but not wanting to agree. Nana smirks at her.

"What better way to protect innocent people than to purge evil from the world?" Nana says, quite self-righteously. "Villains need to get what they deserve."

Hayami gulps and gives Nana a sheepish nod. She hopes it's just a phase.

Click.

The sleek, black car speeds down the street, away from UA and back home. Hayami reflects on the day's events, biting her lip in anguish. Some weeks after their previous conversation, Hayami worked up the courage to confront Nana about what she said. But everything goes down in flames whenever she is involved, so the outcome was not as hoped. Hayami considers herself well-informed on the efficacy of various forms of justice and believes in rehabilitative justice and the potential of people to change. She also happens to be quite firm in her convictions. So despite her reservations, it was inevitable that Hayami would tell Nana her opinion and perhaps enlighten her on other potential methods of addressing criminals.

Nana's reaction was unprecedented.

"Your privilege is showing, Hayami," Nana scoffed. "If you knew anything about how the world works, you'd get it." Her tone was accusatory, yet there was hurt underneath it all.

"Okay…"

And like an idiot, she left without saying anything else. Not even an apology for invalidating Nana's trauma, especially after what she had gone through at such a young age… But Hayami only could manage a meek agreement. No goodbye.

Tears roll down Hayami's cheeks as she stares out the window at the buildings blurring past. She glances at her chauffeur, then at her hands folded neatly in her lap. She really is just a spoiled rich kid. She decides to apologize the following day and try not to bring up the subject again.

Click.

I've really messed up now. Why did I have to mention it? God, I'm so stupid! Over a year went by without any bumps, yet now I have to slip up! Please, Nana, I hope you don't hate me. I barely have anyone else. Ugh, why couldn't you just be normal!

I hate it. I hate that you suffered, and I hate that I never had, and I'm sorry that I can never understand you and that I'm just a complete idiot. Things could be so much better if you weren't like this! Yes, your trauma is real and must be reckoned with. Yes, that man was a piece of scum. But we can't just go around killing every criminal for every little sin because that would be immoral!

I want us to be friends, I really do, but how am I supposed to accept this? I don't know how to apologize to you for telling you what should be common sense. Am I just supposed to be a doormat forever? I can't bear being that perfect, cool-headed, rich girl for anyone besides my parents. Why can't you expect me to be something more when I'm with you?

Please let us fix this. I know you can change.

I don't want to be alone.

Click.

Maybe I'm going to be okay again. I didn't think Nana would accept that apology. Though, it is understandable. Sucking up to her and saying that I was wrong was sure to do the trick. It's okay if she doesn't know how I actually feel. It's not like it matters.

Those months when we didn't talk were so lonely. I'm glad to see you smile at me again. It is a relief to be by your side. I'll never bring it up again. Smile and nod, smile and nod. Then we will stay happy.

Click.

I don't know if we've ever hugged before this moment. You've never been big on physical contact. But maybe the excitement swept you—well, me too—up and led to this tight embrace. Graduation is pretty exciting. I'm pumped up, actually. It's not often that I get enthusiastic these days. It must have to do with my quirk. Oh well, I don't mind, because we will be working together from now on! And maybe from there, we can put the past behind us, and I can start to live an average person's life. Heh, you won't be able to call me a spoiled rich girl anymore once we're out there surviving as adults—no, real heroes!

Click.

I want to say that I never thought this would happen, but I would be lying. It really was inevitable that one day you would eventually put into practice what you preach. I'm disappointed, but to some degree I understand.

A young girl, not more than ten, missing for over a week, and the heroes do nothing. Hits a bit too close to home. I saw that look in your eyes when the case was first briefed at the office. You looked at me, and I understood we had to get jurisdiction over it.

But we couldn't. And it was left to someone else.

There were many leads: the divorced father, nowhere to be found; the stolen car; the girl's room in disarray as if there had been a scuffle; the supposed sighting of said father in said stolen car driving away from the house into the night. Some details were oddly in line with your past. So, yes, I know why you did this.

Even when we begged for the case and continued to be refused and those in charge of it continued to do nothing, you seemed to be acting reasonably. I thought you were so strong for that. I admired your self-control. But now… I don't know what to feel.

Because what am I supposed to think when you kill a man in cold blood?

When the news broke that the girl was found dead, I had a sneaking suspicion that this would be it for you. And when I came into work that day, and you weren't there, I expected why. I didn't want to believe it, but when I called you dozens of times and you failed to pick up, I knew you'd really gone and done it.

So I wasn't surprised when I found out this evening that you had tracked down that man, tortured him for hours, then killed him and left his body outside our workplace with a letter detailing why you did it.

But why choose vigilantism? How does this help? What good does it do to kill a murderer when you cannot bring back their victims? What good is there in ridding the world of a murderer if you must become one yourself? There is a time and place for hurting others, chiefly when there is something or someone—including yourself—you must protect. But in this case, what were you defending?

I don't want you to be like this, Nana. And I know you want better for yourself too. A life on the run is not much of a life at all. I hope you do okay out on your own. Try to eat well.

I miss you. Please come back and apologize. Maybe it'll be okay if you do.

I just wish you had answered my calls. Then, maybe things could've been different.

Click.

It is a night like any other. A warm summer breeze drifts through the open door of my balcony, fluttering the curtains. I rest on the couch, reading by lamplight, tired from a day of work and bored of my lack of social interaction in the past month. It has been 34 days and 3 hours since I last saw you. Or it had been until you suddenly showed up at my apartment.

I almost think I fell asleep and conjured a figment of you in my dream. I stare back at you in silence, wondering if you will come into the room or if you are waiting for me to react. I don't have it in me to stumble to the floor in shock, or jump around the room in excitement, or even chew you out for what you did. Instead, I smile.

"Welcome back. It's been a while," I say, placing my book on the coffee table. I sit up, squinting to see you in the moonlight. Your eyes are serious. You do not move from where you are perched on the balcony railing. I only now notice your new outfit. "I see you have more weapons now."

"Need them to do the job," you reply flatly. I stand and walk over, sliding the glass door fully open.

"I missed you."

"Me too," you say hesitantly. I notice you do not want to look at me now that I have approached. I know you think I hate you and despise what you've done. But I do not care anymore. I take your hand, ushering you off the balcony and into the room.

"What brings you here this evening?" I ask, stepping into the kitchen to grab water. "I know what you've been up to, but—"

"I want you to join me."

Those words do not want to cement themselves in my head, but a certain temptation is too difficult to suppress. I place the cup back into the cabinet and turn to face you.

"Why?" is the only word I can manage to say.

"Hayami," you say, cupping my hand between yours. "If we work together, we can really make a difference in the world. We can avenge those failed by heroes and send a message to potential criminals."

I stare at you in dismay, caught between two opposing forces. Do I follow you into the depths of hell or stick to my guns and lose my dearest companion?

"But I'm not cut out for that stuff…" I say, unsure if I have a compelling argument or even the motivation to put up a fight.

"It's alright. I just want your help so you can use the dreamscape to trap villains. I'll do the rest myself. You won't have to worry about a thing, and we can even go have fun on the weekend," you say, rubbing my hand reassuringly. Noticing my disconcertion, you show your confident smirk, and I ease at the sight of it. "The two of us will have it all under control. Let's never be separated again, okay?"

You look up at me with wide, pleading eyes. I know you want me to shove the truth all under the rug and follow after you. It's probably what you expect of me, judging by my actions since high school.

"Nana…" I sigh, knowing I am about to betray my morals but not sure if I care anymore. "I want to stay close to you. So, I will follow you."

A relaxation sets on your face, and you let go of my hand.

"Let's get going then! We've got plenty of work to do."

Click.

It's been months since then. At least, I think so. The days and weeks all seem to blend together now. I spend most of my time asleep, cultivating the dreamscape, exploring its uses, and practicing with Nana to prepare for the next kill. Even our targets are indistinguishable because Nana only chooses those who remind her of the past—besides the authorities who come after us. I try not to look at their faces when they arrive in the dreamscape, though it is impossible for me to do so as I enshroud them, and they exist parallel to me. I don't want to murder the heroes I used to know, even though they often maim me by accident. Nana believes it is all for the greater good that we kill them as well because anyone who tries to stop us is obstructing the path of justice.

I do not resist. What would be the point? I have nothing to return to. My family wouldn't want me back, and I certainly have no other friends now. My devotion has cursed me to heed Nana until my dying breath. She is all I have left now.

Click.

We're on the train again. I don't remember what for. Sometimes, Nana likes to take us to random places when we scout for our next target. My eyes are closed, but, for once, I cannot fall asleep. Surprisingly, I hear Nana speaking to someone else. I crack open my eyes slightly to peek at who it is. A familiar young girl with brown hair stands next to a blond boy. I remember who she is, and a strange hope sparks in me.

Slam!

Kuri and Bakugo stumbled back, the last door shutting them out before they could see the rest of the memory. Kuri was not complaining, though, as she felt that each second spent in Hayami's past worsened the nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She glanced at Bakugo, whose perturbation was evident on his face, though he masked it almost immediately.

"I guess we don't need to see more," Bakugo said.

"Yeah, since we know what happens after," Kuri replied. She wasn't sure if it would be strange to express sorrow for Hayami, considering she was their enemy. After all, it was disconcerting to watch a person's entire life from their perspective only to witness their tragic descent into villainy. Not to mention how horribly visceral the experience became over time. Kuri was glad to get out, as she could no longer distinguish Hayami from herself within those rooms—if you could call them that. Hayami's feelings were Kuri's feelings. Some of the emotions from the memories lingered in Kuri's heart, contributing to the overall oppressive sensation she felt. She took a slow breath to calm down and looked at the wall beside her. "And we've run out of doors too."

Kuri loosened her hold on Bakugo to limp along the wall and jiggled the knob of the closest door. It was locked. A bit panicked and not wanting to show Bakugo the fear in her eyes, she staggered to the next door, only to find that one locked too. They both began trying the doors, only to find them now locked. Perhaps witnessing the memories was a one-time thing. And now they were trapped.

"I guess the doors really weren't a way out," Kuri said with a sheepish laugh. Bakugo furrowed his brow as he presumably plotted another route and started investigating the walls. Kuri, needing a rest for her leg, sat down and meditated on her past research and the new information she'd gathered from the memories. Hayami was lonely and well-to-do when she was young but hollow and misguided as an adult. Nana was manipulating her—at least Kuri thought so? It seemed more like Hayami knew what was happening and followed along anyway. But what did this have to do with finding a way out? Maybe nothing.

Bakugo yelled, sparks flying from his hands. Kuri looked up in surprise, not understanding the sudden outburst. She pushed herself to her feet as fast as she could and asked what was wrong, using the wall to prop herself up.

"I can't find an exit in this shitty room!" he growled, pacing down the hall and throwing his hands up. "I want out already!" he screamed, half-sobbing the last word. Kuri furrowed her brow in deep concern. Hayami's emotions must've been getting to him too… She took a shaky step towards him, hand outstretched, as he began to charge up an explosion. "Might as well blow our way out of here, too…!"

"Stop!" Kuri jumped at him, and the collision sent them to the ground. She felt her wound opening up again and drew in a sharp breath, wincing in pain. She pushed herself up slowly and cracked open her eyes, only to find Bakugo staring up from beneath her like a shocked statue. Kuri quickly rolled off of him, and her face reddened in embarrassment. "Sorry about that…"

"What was that for?" Bakugo asked, now a tad less frustrated. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head, having hit it against the floor when Kuri tackled him.

"I get that you're upset, but we'll find a way out. The dreamscape is making things feel worse, so don't overreact. We've hurt Hayami enough today…" Kuri said. "I'm pretty sure people destroying all those dreamscape levels caused those medical complications we read about in the case files. Speaking of, when we're out, we should find her some medical attention."

"Then how do you suggest we get out of here?" he asked, disgruntled. Kuri tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully.

"What would get Hayami's attention?" she asked. They contemplated the question for a few moments before Bakugo spoke.

"Appeal to her desire to be a hero," he said. Kuri's face lit up at Bakugo's epiphany. "Seems it's the one thing she never got to achieve, based on those memories, or whatever."

"Oh my gosh, you're a genius," Kuri muttered, proud to be friends with such a smarty-pants. She thought of the kiss again, though, and her mood soured. She pushed those thoughts away again, knowing that thinking too hard about it would make her cry. Kuri exhaled slowly before knocking thrice on the floor. "Hellooo, Hayami? We need your help! Please save us, because, uh… I want to meet you!"

Bakugo gave her a questioning glance, probably thinking her plea was oddly worded. However, he didn't have a moment to remark upon it, as the floor suddenly gave way. Warping and stretching out beneath them, they fell through. Kuri looked at the hallway above as they descended, which shrunk away into a white speck.

The hole that Kuri and Bakugo had fallen into was very dark and very long. They could not see each other or the end, as if they were in a bottomless pit. They fell fast, but there was no wind in their ears. Only cold, dead silence.

"Bunny, where are you?" Bakugo called. She could hear his arms swishing around, trying to locate her.

"Right next to you," she replied, sticking out a hand and bumping into his elbow. She latched on tightly to his arm. "Don't worry."

He found her hand and held it in his. Kuri was glad for the darkness, so Bakugo couldn't see her blushing. Though, he could probably tell what she was feeling by the heat of her hands. His hands were warm too. She might've been more blissful if she hadn't been so fixated on that stupid kiss. There was so much to unpack there, and it took every fiber of Kuri's self-control to remind herself to focus only on the task at hand. And maybe even appreciate how Bakugo was treating her in the moment.

"We're almost at the bottom," Bakugo said, and Kuri looked down, seeing yet another hallway approaching.

"Let's hope I can stick the landing…" Kuri said. Then, she felt herself being pulled toward Bakugo, and he held her in his arms. Her cheeks caught on fire. "Wh—what's this for?!"

They landed with a thud, and Bakugo set her on her feet. She could see his face again in the glow of the hallway's soft, red emergency lighting. Bakugo averted his eyes.

"Can't have you hurting yourself even more…" he mumbled. Kuri nodded, looking away shyly and examining the dimly lit hall. A ceiling had formed above them, producing a cramped, concrete corridor with only one door at the far end. Upon the door hung a placard displaying Hayami's name in large, gold lettering. Kuri planted her gauntlet-clad hand on the wall and reluctantly placed the other on Bakugo's shoulder for balance.

"I guess this is it," Kuri said. Bakugo nodded. It seemed neither wanted to take the first step towards the door. Kuri felt a strange force holding her back—the weight of crushing emotions like those from the memories. As if she was shouldering the entirety of Hayami's past and present psyche, Kuri bent and struggled with each step. Straining against the urge to curl away, Kuri and Bakugo forced their way through, and Bakugo latched onto the doorknob.

"I'll go in front," he whispered. Kuri noticed his hand shaking as it clenched the doorknob. She placed her hand on his to reassure him but suddenly understood why he was trembling. By making contact with the door, the oppressive feeling in Kuri multiplied. She inhaled sharply and in surprise, clutched Bakugo's hand tighter. Kuri glanced at him, and they shared a look of understanding.

"I'll be right behind you," Kuri finally said. She smiled, slowly releasing her hold on his hand. "Like I said, you can count on me. And I'll be counting on you." They held eye contact for a moment before Bakugo nodded soberly.

"Stand back," he murmured. Kuri complied, and Bakugo flung the door open. He hurried into the room, and Kuri hobbled after, peering around the small room from behind Bakugo, her borrowed gauntlet raised and ready.

The walls were a peach color, and the floor was composed entirely of a soft mattress upon which laid dozens of pillows and plushies in varying shapes and sizes. Kuri stepped around a giant, plush radish half-blocking the doorway, her foot sinking a bit into the cushions below. Then Kuri laid eyes on her, and her heart nearly stopped. Something about seeing Hayami, whether it was the dreamscape's influence or perhaps the state Hayami was in, brought tears to Kuri's eyes.

Hayami was unconscious, lying in a heap of pillows, blood dripping from her mouth onto the orange fur of a stuffed fox's head. Another wave of an indescribable amalgamation of emotions slammed into Kuri. She spotted Nana among the pillows. Her multitude of weapons was nowhere to be seen, and she was haphazardly bandaged. Tears streamed down Nana's face as she kneeled at Hayami's side, frantically pleading for her to wake up.

Kuri and Bakugo's entrance startled Nana, who instantly scrambled over pillows to block them from Hayami. She threw her arms back in a protective stance, looking like a cornered stray cat with her fearful glare. Kuri felt a lump in her throat upon seeing Nana again. That murderous intent she presumed was due to the dreamscape was no longer present in her heart. Now, there was only grief. Of course, she still did not like Nana—and perhaps liked her less—but all she could manage to feel was staggering sorrow.

"Don't hurt her," Nana snarled. "You've already done too much."

Kuri stared at Nana, baffled by how pitiful she looked. She had no means to attack, let alone defend herself or Hayami. Half-dried tears made streaks in the smeared blood on her face. Nana's arms were strewn with loosely wrapped gauze, which did not cleverly disguise her wounds. Remorse filled Kuri slowly as she slid her gaze from Nana to Hayami. She shouldn't have beaten them up so badly; they were people too—vigilante or otherwise. And knowing their history made things feel all the worse. Kuri slowly lowered her arm.

Nana did not let her guard down, narrowing her eyes. Kuri, overcome with the dreamscape's amplification of her emotions and unable to hold back the tears welled up in her eyes, began to cry. She looked fixedly at Nana, who seemed confounded by Kuri's spontaneous waterworks.

"I promise I won't," Kuri choked out. She released a small sob before wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her hero costume. She sniffled quietly, not knowing how to continue yet unable to look away from the vigilantes. No one spoke for a moment.

"You two will both be able to receive necessary medical attention once you surrender," Bakugo said in a slightly quivering voice. Kuri, surprised, glanced at him and found that he, too, had tears rolling down his face. Kuri nodded, taking a deep breath to gather herself, and pulled out two pairs of handcuffs. She held them up and waved them a bit as she peered at Nana, searching her face for the telltale signs of acquiescence.

Nana stared back unflinchingly, a deep frown set on her face. Then, her hand twitched, and she gradually lowered her arms to her sides. She dropped her head and peered over her shoulder at Hayami. Her bangs hung in front of her eyes, obscuring them from Kuri's line of sight. Though she was reluctant, Kuri followed suit and looked at Hayami's slumbering body as well. That wave hit her again, and she bit her lip so roughly she nearly broke skin.

"I'm sorry," Nana whispered, her voice breaking. She clenched her hands into fists and brought them to rest in her lap. "You did your best. I'm sorry." She sobbed quietly, her head still turned to watch Hayami as she breathed shallowly in her sleep. Nana did not move from where she knelt on the mattress.

Kuri and Bakugo shared a wordless look. Their eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and their faces wet with tears, but neither commented on it. Instead, Kuri held out one pair of handcuffs, presenting it to Bakugo on her open palm. He took a long look at it, before scooping it off her hand and putting it in his pocket. He then glanced at the handcuffs in her other hand and nodded toward Nana. Kuri sighed sorrowfully, and the two shuffled over. Kuri dropped herself in front of Nana, grabbing her arms and turning her around to fasten them behind her back. Nana did not resist. Bakugo gently raised Hayami from where she lay, and Kuri could tell from his stiffness that it was agonizing to touch her. He latched the cuffs on her wrists and lifted his head, allowing him and Kuri to share another glance. They won, so why did Kuri feel so defeated?

Perhaps because she had entered looking for vengeance, which was a fruitless effort in itself. As much as she had tried to disguise it, what Kuri felt towards Nana and Hayami had been unbridled disgust and hatred. But to rediscover their humanity was hard to handle. Those supposed enemies of hers had dreams too. Once, they too had been kids who—in some form or another—wanted to fix the world. To be fair, they didn't make good choices every time, but what person does? There wasn't an excuse for their actions, but knowing now what culminated in their fateful encounter with Kuri wouldn't let her rest easy. In all honesty, as much as Kuri wanted to look at the whole ordeal as a valuable life lesson in understanding others (which it was), she couldn't help but think how much she hated her job for traumatizing her again.

Thanks a lot for giving us this case, Endeavor and associated police force!

"Are we just going to keep sitting here?" Bakugo asked, breaking from Kuri's gaze. His words shocked her from her trance, and Kuri realized she'd been staring at Bakugo for nearly a minute. He looked at Nana. "Or is there a way for us to get out of here?"

Nana was silent, her whimpers already reduced to an occasional sniffle. Kuri nudged her with her arm, hoping it would coax out the information.

"Her left ring finger…" Nana mumbled. Kuri hummed in confusion, prompting Nana to repeat herself. The vigilante sighed deeply. "Pull her left ring finger," Nana said resignedly. "That's the secret exit Hayami conditioned herself to respond to. Or you could force her to wake up. That may not work as well right now, though, seeing as you've incapacitated her." She glared at Bakugo, who averted his gaze. He then grabbed Hayami's limp left hand and beckoned Kuri over. She scooted over to situate herself closer to Hayami. Bakugo raised an eyebrow as if asking Kuri if she would like to do the honors. She hesitantly took hold of Hayami's finger. It was a bit cold, and Kuri frowned, reminded of the urgency of the situation. Then she tugged, and her vision went black.

Kuri, though not in a physical body, could feel the weight of Hayami's emotions lifting from her as she warped through time and space back to the real world. As they traveled back, Kuri's last thought was about Izuku and Shoto. They must've spent a while waiting for them. They were probably worried sick…

The dreamscape booted them out back into the alley, and Kuri crashed on the grimy floor in a heap. Bakugo landed beside her momentarily after, with Nana following close behind. Each groaned in pain upon impact with the ground. Bakugo sprung to his feet in time to catch a suddenly materialized Hayami. Her eyes fluttered slightly, opening only a crack.

Kuri heard the sudden shouts of police and the blare of sirens, announcing their return to reality and calling for officers to apprehend the vigilantes. She pushed herself up onto one knee.

"Get a doctor!" Kuri shouted, pointing to Hayami. "She's badly hurt!" First responders from an ambulance nearby began to hurry over. Two grabbed Hayami from Bakugo, placing her on a gurney and ushering her away. Then, to Kuri's surprise, another pair put her on a stretcher and whisked her away. By then, Kuri was too exhausted to protest but twisted herself around for a moment to wave goodbye to Bakugo. He waved back and cracked a small, accomplished smile before Kuri laid back down. She sighed, then her lips contorted into a grimace. Shit, the pain in her leg was excruciating. Only now had she felt it again.

Hours passed. Kuri received medical treatment, the police got her statement, and she even had a quick interview with the press. All while she was stuck in a hospital bed without her phone. During the time her mind was allowed to wander, she thought of what her parents would think when they found out about everything. They'd probably be proud that she'd faced the vigilantes and saved the day or whatever, though they would be concerned about the leg injury since it could cost her her career. Luckily, the doctor told her she'd be okay. Recovery Girl had even come by, so Kuri was now healed and just resting.

The thing that was really troubling her was that stupid kiss with Bakugo. She couldn't get it off her mind. She had been able to push it aside momentarily in the dreamscape, but without anything else to do now the question of Bakugo's feelings for her was all-consuming. To enable herself to speculate on the present, Kuri thought back to the day they met, working forward chronologically and pointing out each moment where Bakugo's feelings toward her may have changed to be romantic, when it seemed he expressed interest in her, or when he got flustered around her.

Throwing a wrench in Kuri's plans, however, was the doctor coming into her room at near midnight to tell her she was discharged (weird hospital…), interrupting her thought process. She received a bag containing a new change of clothes and a note from Mina saying she heard what happened and brought some stuff for her to "look cute in" once she was released from the hospital. Kuri chuckled upon seeing the note and put on the clothes, which it seemed Mina had taken from her own closet instead of going into Kuri's room and grabbing stuff. Some of it didn't fit quite right, but Kuri didn't care since it was her only option.

A nurse returned Kuri's phone to her, and a thought popped into her head. Kuri asked the nurse if Hayami was in the same hospital, and it turned out she was. Then, Kuri asked if she could go visit her, to which the answer was a tentative yes, though a guard would be in the room with her. Kuri thanked the nurse and left. She found Hayami's room and entered quietly, glancing at the security posted by the door. She wasn't sure what had compelled her to see Hayami, especially when it was far past visiting hours, but approached her bedside with a confident gait.

Hayami was hooked up to a bajillion machines, each beeping and flashing colors and numbers that Kuri didn't understand. Hayami's breathing was slow but deep. From Kuri's limited knowledge, she seemed to be in stable condition, though heavily sedated.

"Hey, Hayami. I'm sorry about today," Kuri whispered. "I told Bakugo to hurt you, and now you're in the hospital." Hayami did not respond, and her expression remained still. Her eyes were closed gently, and it looked like she was sleeping peacefully. "You probably know this already, but we saw your memory core." Kuri paused, biting the inside of her cheek. "It was pretty upsetting to see." Kuri tugged on the sleeve of Mina's loaned jacket, unsure of what else to say to Hayami, considering she wouldn't even respond. "I just wanna tell you, it's never too late to be a hero. And you were more of a hero when you were in high school than I'll ever be. So, maybe you can let that comfort you."

Kuri turned to leave, but a shaky voice whispered to her, and she whipped back around.

"The dagger…" Hayami trailed, peering at Kuri through half-closed eyes. "I put it… for you." Kuri wracked her brain for what she could mean. Her eyes widened when a thought occurred to her.

"The one in the water?" she asked in disbelief.

Hayami nodded weakly.

"Thank you…" Hayami whispered, shutting her eyes again.

"For what?"

And to that, there was no response.

Kuri, upon realizing Hayami would not be lucid again anytime soon, left the room, shooting off a quick text to Bakugo. If he was still around, maybe they could get the same ride home. It'd be nice to see him again, even if that kiss confused the hell out of her, because having a crush wasn't just a black and white type of deal. Kuri couldn't help but love him, despite being a bit mad, because, through the thick of it, he continued to stick by her. And hopefully, they could tackle this new development in their "friendship" together too.


Katsuki slumped in his seat, unable to find a comfortable position on the stiff waiting room chair. He felt like he'd spent an eternity in that damn hospital: first getting his wounds patched up, then police talking to him, and later some random-ass reporters came by looking for a scoop. But all of that had passed by fairly quickly. Now, he was waiting for Kuri to come out so they could go home already. The day had been painfully long, such that Katsuki had forgotten that at some point earlier they were on patrol. He had already asked the doctor when Kuri would be out, and all she answered was "soon." Two more hours passed since then, during which Katsuki was in and out of sleep. No one bothered to kick him out, so Katsuki remained sitting in that chair, watching the elevator for Kuri.

It sounded like she fared fine in the end, so Katsuki was glad. Though he was worried about how he'd act when he saw her again. He had managed to keep it together until they escaped the dreamscape (Hayami's second-hand sorrow helped him take his mind off it) but back in reality, he was forced to face his feelings. They hadn't been a fluke; it wasn't the dreamscape making him think unlike himself or some other stupid excuse.

Katsuki was in love with Kuri. He had been for months without knowing it. He rested his chin on his hand, contemplating this thought deeply. It was hard to come to terms with it after having resisted the notion for so long—always refusing to admit he found her pretty or that he enjoyed her company. How had he not seen it sooner? In hindsight, he was clearly into her since the day they met. He hadn't necessarily loved her until they became friends, but still, this realization was hitting him a bit late.

His phone screen suddenly lit up with a notification, and Katsuki snatched it from his lap. It was a text from Kuri. She said she'd been let out and would be down soon, then asked if he wanted to catch a ride with her. He told her sure and that he was waiting downstairs. After pressing "send", Katsuki stiffened, again anxious about how he would conduct himself with her. He hadn't quite figured that part out. Kuri had said that she wanted to remain friends, supposedly for his benefit because she thought he didn't like her. So, should he tell her the good news? Would that be too out of the blue?

Seriously, there's no way I can tell her. "I know you said we should just be friends, and I kinda rejected you before, but I realized I'm in love with you." Yeah, that would be stupid.

He decided against a clumsy, spontaneous confession and opted to fix their friendship or whatever he had in mind before the impromptu mission mixed him up. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Then he could figure out this love thing without worrying about changing the nature of their relationship. Just keep sailing smoothly… she'll never have to know… And when the time is right, and they are on better terms, he'll be able to tell her.

The elevator dinged, and Katsuki stood as the doors opened, revealing Kuri. She stepped into the lobby, scanning the room until her eyes eventually landed on him. She smiled and waved. He grinned nervously and walked over.

"Are you wearing Ashido's clothes?" he asked to break the ice, chuckling at the outfit. That cheetah print top was definitely not something Kuri owned.

"Yeah, it's a bit obvious, huh?" Kuri laughed. She began leading them toward the doors. "So, how've you been? I take it that you endured all the police and press interview business too? And I see you've got a bandage now." She pointed to the patch on his cheek covering the cut from Nana's throwing knife.

"Yeah, par for the course," Katsuki said, his hand grazing the bandage. "Can't escape interviews and stuff in this line of work. I'm guessing you're all healed now, too?" He gestured to her leg.

"Yup!" Kuri said chirpily as they stepped across the door's threshold. The night was quiet and not too cold. Kuri glanced around the mostly empty parking lot. "Um, I just realized we don't have a ride."

"I called Aizawa. He's on his way."

"Oh, cool. Looks like we won't have to walk home or something crazy like that," Kuri giggled.

"Or stay here overnight."

"Yeah…" Kuri said, her mind suddenly elsewhere. "By the way, I went to see Hayami before I came to meet you."

"Really? Why?" Katsuki asked. He sure hadn't expected Kuri to want to think about either of the vigilantes anymore. Let alone go talk to one of them. Though Hayami seemed to be pretty agreeable and he was sure Kuri felt bad for her after witnessing her memories. They kinda fucked him up, too…

"I guess I just wanted to make her feel better…" Kuri trailed off. "But also… she told me that she placed the dagger for me. The one I used when I, uh… well, when I tried to kill Nana."

"Why would she do that? They're partners," Katsuki said. It was clear from Nana and Hayami's interactions in what little they had seen from real life and the memory core that they were close. Their relationship was a bit twisted, but they had stuck together for years. Why would Hayami enable someone to murder Nana?

"I'm not sure… It's all so weird."

"Those two sure have a weird bond," Katsuki said, looking off into the distance. A cool breeze blew by, and he watched the minimal traffic on a nearby street. Kuri hummed thoughtfully.

"Loving other people is hard to get right," she said. Katsuki peered at her, furrowing his brow. Could she be talking about the two of them? He didn't think she would be that forward, considering she requested they stay friends. Kuri noticed Katsuki staring and glanced up at him. Blush spread across his face, and Katsuki was about to open his mouth to say something probably stupid when he heard a car coming. Both he and Kuri turned their heads as it rolled up beside them. The passenger door window rolled down, unveiling Mr. Aizawa's tired face. He glared at them from the driver's seat.

"Get in," he said, irritation present in his voice. Katsuki and Kuri filed into the back seat and shut the door. "Couldn't you two have saved the day when the trains were still running?"

Kuri giggled, making Katsuki snicker as well. They looked at each other in the glow of the car's interior lights as Aizawa pulled away from the curb.

"Thanks for everything today," Kuri said, punctuating her sentence with a yawn. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm gonna take a nap." She turned her head to face the window, and Katsuki could see her shoulders relax. He turned to face his window, planning on doing the same thing as Kuri. He closed his eyes, the remnants of a smile on his lips as he drifted away into a sleep he hoped would be better than his day.