Trigger Warning:
- mutilation
- dismemberment
- blood
- death
- crude language
Mirko is sent flying through the air into the upper level pipes.
Those bubbles of laughter finally escape.
I bend over, clutching my knees as the peals of joy erupt.
The noumu - five of them in total - whip around, trying to locate the source of the sound. I clamp my hand over my mouth, yet failing to control the amusement. Their heads, rotating in all directions, threaten another chortling fit. But vaguely, I realize that my invisibility is still active. Shivers of glee rack up and down my body. Oh, that was so much more satisfying than when I pummeled her animatronic counterpart.
For a while, I completely forget about Daruma-san. The fight in front of me is just too engrossing. It is not everyday I get to sit back and watch a hero's ego crumble. The noumu that facepalmed her hit her so hard that its own hand severed off. As it regenerates, the others mumble phrases. "He … ro …" croaks one. "Been so long …" says another. "Can go wild …" parrots the third. The fourth one forms two cohesive sentences: "Kill them all! Let's go nuts!"
I want to stay and watch what happens next. This is better than paying money to watch a movie at the theater. Everything is live. Everything is free. It is all so much more entertaining.
However, that is when my ears - I forgot to shut off the amplification - pick up on the squeaking of a chair, slowly diminishing in loudness. Oh, right! The Doctor! Ugly coughs hurt my chest as I saunder toward the sound. His chair has an automatic system built into it. It is connected to a set of tracks, and that is all I need to follow to reach him. Daruma-san stands in front of a series of monitors and the largest keyboard I have ever seen. He frantically clicks buttons and enters keys.
I sneak up behind him, dropping the camouflage when no more than one step is remaining between us.
"Doctor?" I whisper. The man's soul quite literally escapes his body. His wet eyes widen to the size of oranges. His moustache quivers like mouse whiskers. Is that even possible? Then he opens his mouth to scream. This time, I slam my hand against his mouth, silencing him effectively. "I am here to help." Glancing at the chamber where Shigaraki floats with all electrocution torture devices attached to his body, I find enough courage to say the most ridiculous sentence of my life, "I'll take on the hero."
"What?" Daruma-san asks, dumbfounded, when I remove my hand.
Very understandable reaction. Even I am beginning to question what it is I am saying. Since when have I been the self-sacrificial type? I don't tackle problems unless the reward is worth the risk. "You focus on preparing Shigaraki's enhancement. I will stop Mirko from impeding progress. How much is left?"
He stammers, "S-s-seventy percent c-completed!"
That is not a good number. And I don't mean just on exams. If we just had a few more weeks, then Shigaraki would be fully equipped to withstand the immensity of One for All. Stop that. What is the point in thinking about ifs and buts? It won't change our current predicament. "How long will it take you to reach one hundred percent?"
"At least one hour!"
"Fifteen minutes," I decide. "Work those aged muscles like an Olympic athlete, Doctor, because I took your inhaler drug quite some time ago, and it still hasn't taken effect." Daruma-san scrambles his pockets for something. When he pulls the objects out, my eyebrow rises up. Small, cylindrical tubes with needles at one end and plungers at the other. I recognize what they are. "It's the drug you made from my blood."
He nods vigorously. "Prototypes. But they passed the initial trials. The ones with green casings are quirk enhancers; yellow casings are quirk suppressors. Take the green one once the inhaler begins to wear off. Use the yellow one on your enemies when you have no other choice. Each should last about half an hour before another dose." There are a third set of vials in his palms. Colorless. When he catches me staring at them, he explains, "Anaesthetics. For your arthritis."
"Understood" I reply, pocketing the chemicals into my interdimensional vault. Daruma-san appears crestfallen despite having given me such useful weapons. "What is it?"
"Those heroes … they destroyed my life's work … Your blood was in many of those bottles. She broke them."
The man is shorter than I am. So the height difference makes it easy for me to clasp his shoulders and force him to meet my gaze. "I comprehend the value of science. Believe me. Mirko and everyone else will pay for annihilating the fruits of your labor. I swear it. But don't forget: you still have me. You can withdraw as much blood as you want from me next time. An entire twenty percent. Sounds good?" I don't actually mean to give him that much authority over me, but the small lie is for his own benefit. It works its magic. Hope begins to replace the despair dribbling from his eyes. "Next time," I enunciate. "Which means you have to do your part. Boost Shigaraki's endurance. Wake him up. Then help me transfer One for All to him."
Finally, I release him. He turns to face his masterpiece suspended in water. Without breaking eye contact from Shigaraki, he says, "You remind me of him." I say nothing. My silence is enough of an indication for him to elaborate. "All for One."
"My quirk is very similar to his," I admit.
Daruma-san shakes his head. "Not just that. Shigaraki may be his protégé, but you inherited his mind."
I stare at the Doctor for one entire minute before turning my back. Whether that was a compliment or an insult, I do not know. In light of more pressing issues, I know I should ignore what he said about me. But his words reverberate inside my head. To think that I am the parallel of the Symbol of Evil … is there truth to it? I find it difficult to find any reason there is not. There are motivations behind my decision to become Lucifer Morningstar. Incentives behind my agreement to join the League of Villains, become the Bone Crusher Killer, become a spy.
All for One is a very manipulative man. He managed to dance me to his tunes. But am I any different? I have manipulated everyone around me. Friend and foe. Loved and hated. Goodness, I've lied to Shouto so many times I've lost count. He takes pleasure from inflicting pain, and so do I. My role was from the shadows, and All for One rose to power from the same place. He has a God complex; I have a Devil complex. I am arrogant, selfish, and an excellent actress. That man is very much the same. Know what the best part is? If I were given a chance to redo everything in my life, I would refuse it. All for the sake of revenge.
Perhaps Daruma-san is right. I resemble All for One. To quite an extent, I understand the way he thinks. Which is why I know that if he were in my place, he would do the same thing I am doing right now.
Ah, there would be one difference, though. He would not have wasted as much time as I had to get rid of Mirko.
Because the insolent hare has insane plot armor on her side. Despite being thrown at a spine-breaking velocity, her insult implies that she is just fine. "You're just clack-clack-clacking away back there, huh?" It is a reminder to disguise myself once more. And hurry up. Jogging the way one does with a cane, I listen to the fight resume. The noumu gang are surprised she is still alive. Mirko boasts that she cancelled the impact with her legs. My mind latches onto that detail.
Rather than finding her weakness, what if I attack her strength?
"You're first, you dumb old fart!" she exclaims. That is all she gets to say before the noumu recover from their stupor. Both sides rile each other. A loud thud resonates all the way to my position. One male voice disappears. Next a snapping sound. Second noumu taken out. Talk about adding insult to injury. Daruma-san might just become feral from the loss. I want to get there quickly, but curse these legs!
By the time I do reach the scene, one noumu lies motionless with a crushed brain, and the other is missing its head. I am pleased to see that at least they managed to inflict some unignorable damage onto the hero: a missing left forearm. Although she has made a tourniquet with her hair, without prompt medical attention, she will bleed out. Definitely makes things easier for me. Until the risk of arthritis does not dissipate temporarily, I have to minimize the number of times I use my arsenal of abilities.
Rabbits have keen hearing. Any careless noise on my part will render the camouflage useless. I should also assume that she heard me laugh. That she knows there is a seventh person here. The best plan is to keep her occupied with the noumu. Then ambush her from behind.
Indeed, the three noumu decide to attack together as a team. They gang up on Mirko, slashing, flailing, maiming … whatever their quirks allow them to do. The Pro-Hero's stratagem changes. It is subtle. But whereas before she launched offense after offense with her legs, now it is those same kicks fending off the noumu's attacks. The severed arm is taking its effects.
Now is my oppor- Ouch!
A throbbing pain pulsates inside my head. Blood rushes up the arteries like the rapids of a river. The coughs earlier were nothing compared to the choking squeezing around my throat. White and black spots dot my vision. Noises reach my ears at a tenth of their original volume. I have felt this sensation before. On the day of the war with the Meta Liberation Army. When I was bound to the stake, left to burn alive.
Certainly, took long enough.
I do not know how much time passes until the agony becomes bearable. It must only be minutes, given the fight still raging in front of me. Yet it feels like eons. Finally, the amplifier drug side effects settle down. My vision sharpens. My hearing has never been sharper like it is now. Perspiration, pheromones, and terror permeate the air.
Such heightened senses enable me to sense what it is that Mirko intends to do before she realizes it herself. This time, when I summon the warp gate, my lungs don't feel like they're on fire. Stealthily, I step through. Daruma-san glances behind him. He mimes his confusion. I give him a cunning smile in return. Just wait.
Studying the watch on my wrist, I count down the time it will take for the irritating rabbit to fall into my trap.
Ten, nine, eight … Her feet ricochet off the surfaces of the few intact tanks.
Seven, six, five … The noumu chase after her.
Four, three, two … She smashes through another wall full of vials.
One … Mirko enters the secret hideout.
Zero … Midair, she braces for an axe-kick against Shigaraki's chamber.
The noumu with tentacles arcs one of its long-range ropes toward her. I propel from the ground with the winds of a tornado. An entirely one-sided challenge ensues between the two of us. Who will reach her first? I prick my thumb against the dragon teeth. The tentacle comes closer. A mechanical sound snaps. The appendage rises. I unsheathe the katana. Mirko's foot starts its descent. The noumu rapidly covers the distance. I lift the sword high above.
Just before her foot makes contact with the glass, I drop the veil of invisibility.
The mauve light of Shigaraki's chamber behind me illuminates the Pro-Hero's last expression. Her eyes nearly pop out of her sockets in alarm. I swear, even her ears droop to her side. What I care about is that her leg wavers in its arc. So with that diabolical smile never leaving my face, I prepare to greet her in my style. Devil style.
The katana swings down, slicing her right leg from the knee.
Mirko falls to the ground unceremoniously. The landing is hard. Hearing that crunch of bone against concrete sends chills of pleasure down my spine. Blood mars the front of her face. More begins to pool at the back of her skull. The cocky rabbit tries to get up.
I float down and meander toward her side. She spits out, "Screw you, ***! I gave a grand speech back there about dying without regrets, but you just had to be a butthead about it! Don't think that you've won just by taking me down!"
Her taunts amuse me to no end. Crouching down, I cup her chin with my fingers. In the off-chance that the heroes perform an autopsy on her, they won't find my DNA on her body. Not when I am wearing gloves. In fact, I bet two thermoses of milk that no autopsies will be performed on the casualties today.
"Oh, I know that," I coo, tilting her face side to side. "But you're not going to live to tell your friends about me. So don't die thinking that you've won, either." With that riposte, I don't wait for her to reply. Instead, I rise to my knees and chop her head off. It rolls into the darkness, leaving a trail of red behind. The Doctor gapes at me, wide-mouthed. I look at his monitor and frown. "Really? Eighty percent? I kept waiting and waiting for a good chance to strike, and within that duration all you managed was a ten percent increment?"
He stammers an explanation. I cannot make any sense of it. Taking deep breaths, I tell myself to calm down. Give the man some leeway, Selene. He's doing the best he can despite the trauma. Pinching the bridge of my nose, the last bits of frustration temper. "Is there anything I can do to speed up the process?"
No sooner do I ask that question do noises emanate from the battle site. The heroes have made it in.
"Doctor, tell me now!"
"M-m-more c-catalyst! H-higher voltage! But don't h-hurt the b-body!"
I can do that. "Which wire?" He points to a big, blue one. What was that formula from Physics class? Electricity and magnetism unit? I snap my fingers against each other, trying to recall a memory from more than seven months ago. Ah, yes! Voltage equals current times resistance. There is nothing available to increase the resistance. But I have a very potent quirk to raise the current. Kaminari-san's electricity quirk.
Grasping the wire with both hands, I feel for the particles racing along the length of the metal into Shigaraki's tank. Current equals charge divided by time. All my concentration hones on speeding up the electrons. Higher velocity means lesser time means higher current means higher voltage. See! I'm a good student! I deserved those 98 marks on the physics midterm exam!
Then, "What's the percentage reading now?"
He remains silent for a moment before responding, "Eighty-three. Keep going."
Damn it! Still not enough! To make matters worse, the team of heroes approaches by the second. I imagine lightning pulsating from my fingertips into the wire. The cord begins to vibrate. Shivers course in Shigaraki's body. It could be my imagination, but I think I see his fingers twitch. At the Doctor's reminder, I remove one hand from the wire and press it against the glass covering. The amplifier drug allows me to sense Shigaraki's vitals without directly touching him. I multitask between sending current and regenerating Shigaraki's organs. Perspiration drips from my forehead into the mask. Small beads at first. Rivers at the end. It's so irritating that I can't wipe it off. I briefly consider asking the Doctor for help, but with how enthusiastic he is becoming by the second, I decide to let him have his moment of joy.
Shigaraki's ribs crack. I force his osteoblasts into overtime. His internal carotid artery is about to burst. I ease the blood pressure. His trapezius tears. I compel it to stitch itself back together. It's not enough. Four months floating in liquid, enduring electric shock after shock … I worry how much his muscles have atrophied. "Doctor, did you have materials ready for when Shigaraki woke up? Essentials, clothes, toiletries, some food?"
He opens a secret refrigerator from beneath the keyboard. "Just some snacks for myself!"
"Are they nutritious?"
"Fruits, vegetables, bread, milk. And some cereal and protein bars."
I physically gag at the name of protein bars. Ugh! Nuts and chocolate! Gulping down the disgust, "Well, he's going to have to build up his strength. Sorry, Doctor, no snacktime for you."
Although, I do not think he particularly cares. Daruma-san squeals that the monitor is showing ninety percent now. I really wish I could enjoy the nearing success, but heroes just have to put a damper on everything. Just a little more, Selene.
"Ninety-five, ninety-six," the Doctor continues, his excitement growing. How wonderful that one of us can afford to be ecstatic at a time like this! "Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine … one hundred!"
Immediately as that glorious number reaches my ears, I release the wire and collapse. Lying on my back, I exhale like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders. That was a stupid move.
Because just as Daruma-san lifts the remote that will end Shigaraki's comatose state for good, Present Mic-sensei appears at the entrance. That man inhales air the way a whale consumes water. And then he releases that quantity in the form of shockwaves. Every chamber in line, every pipe, every support structure deteriorates from the sheer force of his voice.
I get tossed away like a football, landing somewhere with a machine to smack my head against.
I have heard that people lose their hearing after a bomb explosion. Well, the same thing happens to me from Sensei's voice. The Doctor's mouth is open. He is screaming something. But to my ears, his screams are silent. I try to read his lips instead. Sh … Shi … Shigaraki … There is nothing left of the chamber. Where once a glass container stood now rests a pile of broken glass, streams of water, and hanging pipes. Shigaraki … where is he?
Vanishing myself once more, I get up on my hands and knees, crawling on debris to search for the man I have worked so hard to save. Probably not a smart idea. But it is either risking tetanus or another one of Present Mic-sensei's belching. There is no competition between the two. He couldn't even chew on some breathmints before unleashing that tempest. And I thought my impression was earthquake-inducing. Sensei punches Daruma-san so hard in the face that his goggles break. Sorry, Doctor.
To my dismay, another hero has reached Shigaraki before I have.
"He's not breathing," the Pro-Hero announces. "His heart has stopped."
Those words almost make my heart and lungs stop. I should be glad that the deafness was temporary. But who gives a damn about that? I have to see for myself. Creeping up to the hero, I see Shigaraki's motionless body floating amongst the water.
No. No. This cannot be true.
Daruma-san rambles out of fright, "I put him into a state of suspension to lighten the burden of stabilization. That container was meant to accelerate stabilization, support his system, and resuscitate him when necessary! Ha … I've lived for Shigaraki's sake."
Distantly, I hear another wall break. More heroes have arrived. I do not care.
There is only one thing that exists in my world, and it is the lifeless form in front of me.
I hold Shigaraki's hand. It's cold.
I place a finger under his nose. No air.
I rest my head against his heart. No rhythm.
For the first time, tears slip from my eyes for him. I've killed so many that I should no longer feel remorse. Funny how emotions work, though. There are two people in this world whose death I cannot condone. One of them is the villain the world calls the Symbol of Fear.
Wake up, you temperamental fool.
The Doctor lived for you.
So have I.
I need you.
Note: I have copied some dialogue from one of the English-translated versions of the manga. The link to the chapters are here:
.online/manga/boku-no-hero-academia-chapter-261/
.online/manga/boku-no-hero-academia-chapter-267/
.online/manga/boku-no-hero-academia-chapter-269/
.online/manga/boku-no-hero-academia-chapter-270/