Trigger Warnings:

- whipping

- blood loss

The portal opens in the bedroom.

But I'm too weak to go through.

I'm too weak to move a limb.

I'm too weak to speak.

I'm too weak to keep my eyes open any longer.

Everything is hazy and distorted. I'm half certain that the portal is just my hallucination. My breath comes out in pants, and my heart rate feels unnaturally fast. My body is fatigued, and my brain is drifting in and out of consciousness and unconsciousness, awareness and delirium. I know these are the effects of my "gift" from earlier and my body trying to recuperate from it. I should feel anxious, but instead, I feel a sense of resignation.

What was I expecting? Special treatment because it's my birthday? A reprieve? I recall what Hanada-sama had said to me a few days ago; that it was my destiny to be a sex slave. All along I knew it was true, but I buried that truth deep inside me because it hurt to know that it was irreversible. Living in a false reality seemed happier, even if it only brought false comfort. And now that that truth has been voiced, I can't ignore it anymore. I had said that I would not lie to myself, and yet I willingly, intentionally let myself live in a world of lies and delusions. I'm such a hypocrite... Better terrible truths than kind lies. Slowly, I have to accept that fact and my cursed destiny.

Maybe that's part of the reason I don't activate my healing quirk. Besides the fact that my current mental state is not stable enough and that an arthritic flare will succeed soon after, deep down I just don't want to. Healing it won't change anything. Perhaps this karmic punishment for my sins in my past life and this life.

As I wallow, someone steps out of the portal. So that portal wasn't a hallucination. I hear grumbling, scratching, and short, but drawn-out footsteps. Shigaraki? I think drowsily.

I'm right. It is Shigaraki. From his incoherent muttering, I can assume that he is not happy.

He stops by the side of the bed, facing my immobile body. He stares at the outline of my legs under the blanket, my haphazard bun, and my bare back. More accurately, the still-bleeding, long lacerations decorating my back like red ribbons. "You look like shit," he comments, unimpressed.

"Thank you ... very much ... for the compliment. I feel ... honored," I sigh.

He grunts in frustration and tosses me over his shoulder, thankfully blanket included. "Playing nanny was not part of our agreement. But here I am having to carry you like a rag doll because you're about to faint any second. Can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm regretting that agreement." My laugh comes out as a cross between a gasp and a choke. It does not do wonders for clearing my vision. He walks through the portal again and sets me on a barstool. I clench the blanket to my breasts and promptly slump against the counter.

Kurogiri walks around the bar counter to observe my behavior. His strides are medium but confident. From the step back he takes, I assume he's seen the artwork on my back, too. "Tonight's plans will have to be postponed, Shigaraki. She's in no condition to kill someone."

Shigaraki makes a noncommittal sound. "I thought a beautiful, bloody dead body would make a wonderful birthday present. Too bad the person to do the honors is half-dead herself," he says sarcastically.

And of all things I can think of, it's not retorting back. Instead, I ask, "You know ... when my birthday is ...? How ...?"

Shigaraki laughs. It's raspy and sardonic. "Has all that blood loss made you lose your reasoning? For someone who knows all about your late-night unromantic trysts, douchebag of a father and brothers, and all the other secrets you're hiding, you think we wouldn't learn when your birthday falls? Your bio-data was one of the first things Kurogiri and I read when we investigated you. We had to make sure our spy was the right age to attend U.A."

That was silly of me to ask. Of course, they would know information like that.

The position I am in is not comfortable. I groan as the pain intensifies. Shigaraki stops jesting and throws me over his shoulder again. I stare at the ground and then each stair as he carries me to my bedroom. Kurogiri follows close behind. With uncharacteristic gentleness, he sets me on the bed, on my stomach. "I have some gauze and antiseptic in my room from when I was shot. I'll go get them," he speaks, all feelings of mirth lost.

Kurogiri sets beside me and places a wet cloth on my back. I flinch and grasp the pillow tightly. "I'm sorry, Selene. You need treatment, and I have to clean the wound. Just bear with it a little longer." His voice is gentle. Combine that with his suave voice, it's soothing. I nod and turn my face in the direction.

Shigaraki comes back, and I feel the sting of antiseptic against my wounds. It burns. My eyes shut close, my fingers dig into the pillow, and my teeth clench together. It-It's too much. I can't bear this. I don't want to feel this. It hurts just as much as the lashings. Tears pour from my eyes as I cry silently.

"What did your adoptive father do to you?" Shigaraki asks suddenly. My eyes open in surprise. Is this his attempt at distracting me from the pain? By discussing the source of my pain? If so, it was very poor.

But I cannot complain. I'll take whatever I can get right now. "He whipped me ... in the name of my birthday," I whisper.

His hands freeze for a moment before working again. "Why?" I can detect the effort it takes for him to keep his voice emotionless.

"I don't know ... Maybe to assert his dominance ... Maybe to remind me of my place ... Maybe because I'm so wretched already that he thinks inflicting more doesn't make a difference to me ... Tormentors seek pleasure from tormenting others. They don't need any reason to hurt except for the sake of pleasure. Of all people, ... you and I know that very well."

"Don't put me and your crapbag father in the same category!" he exclaims. "I'm a sadist. Both words are very similar but have very different contexts. I kill because people piss me off, and watching their expressions moments before death feels like feasting at a banquet. He inflicts a pain beyond death." He parrots my words back at me, "Of all people, you and I know there are fates worse than death." I can't refute any of his points because he is right. I ponder over his words just as he announces, "I'm done. Time to apply the plant paste."

Plant paste? Didn't he say he would come back with antiseptic and gauze? I thought-

My thoughts are cut off as the first spread of herbal medicine stings. First the water, then alcohol, now this. I feel his hands lather the concoction on my back. I try to identify the components from smell and texture. Cucumber ... carrot ... a strong aroma of gelatinous aloe vera ... the thick viscosity of honey ... and coconut oil? But the sting fades quickly, though, much quicker than with water or alcohol.

Once he's done, I hear him unravel the roll of bandages. "Don't," I command. The unraveling sounds stop.

"Huh?" he asks, confused.

"What happened, Selene?" Kurogiri says at the same time.

I take a deep breath. "This is enough. Thank you. ... I don't have the strength to move or endure another round of piercing pain, ... and I can't stay awake much longer. Please pull the blanket over my back." They get up and do as I say.

I expect both of them to leave, but they don't.

Kurogiri is undoing my bun to braid my hair.

Shigaraki is setting a glass of water, a bowl of fruit, and a pager by my bedside.

When they do leave, I watch their figures retreat, and whisper, "Good night, Shigaraki. Good night, Kurogiri."

Perhaps it's the last wave of delirium just before I fall into a deep sleep, but I hear a quiet "Happy birthday" in return.

Who says it, I don't know.

With that, my eyes demand to close, and I don't resist.

Citations:

"Better terrible truths than kind lies." - Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo