Trigger Warning:
- major character deaths
- death
- gruesome modes of death
- graphic violence
- bile reflux
- blood
- gore
- mutilation
- acid
- poisoning
Bon voyage, my foot!
I no longer have complaints about skipping breakfast this morning.
Had I known this was the fate that would await me, I would have bailed on dinner last night, too.
Suiting his physique, Gigantomachia is a titan when it comes to running.
Swift. Agile. Determined. And most importantly, bumpy. High speed plus enormous weight equals rough ride to destination. Equals Selene's motion sickness. I would much prefer Spinner's questionable driving skills over this roller coaster. Between bouts of coughing and dizziness, bile claws its way up my throat, leaving my body in the form of ugly retches. I'll have to dispose of this plastic bag soon.
Sorry Gigantomachia, for vomiting over your back.
Mr. Compress is helping me pull my hair back; Spinner is leaning against one of Machia's block-like vertebra; Toga is fidgeting with her outfit that she claims is a size too big; Dabi is being preoccupied with Skeptic; and Skeptic … well, he doesn't seem like he wants to be here. Poor guy. I understand the sentiment all too well.
"Let me off, Dabi!" he protests. "Why take me and not the others?! I must protect Re-Destro!"
"Keep it down," Dabi replies, clamping a hand over Skeptic's mouth. "They haven't noticed us yet."
But while the heroes may not have spotted us, Gigantomachia is too hard to miss. The saying is fight fire with fire and poison with poison. To combat a behemoth, Pro-Hero Mount Lady has foolishly decided to interfere. The impact of the collision sends a tremor down Machia's spine, and subsequently, the rest of us. The one second I hover midair does not do any wonders for my stomach. More bile burns my organs.
Perhaps I should be grateful that Gigantomachia's progress is not the least bit hindered, though. I cannot see the view ahead from this angle, but watching decades-old trees uproot and centuries-old mountains crumble in his wake certainly gives me enough hope to bear with the agony. If that amalgamation of muscle and stone can be resilient, so can I. His following declaration, "I have been waiting, Master! I am on my way!" only solidifies my resolution.
Wobbling on my knees, I get up. Mr. Compress rises to assist me, but I wave his hand away. "Have faith … in Re-Destro," I rasp out. "My clones must be assisting him … this very moment."
That single word sends everyone into uncomfortable silence. Twice's death still looms over our heads like an omen. Even Toga seems to have fallen into the abyss of despair again. Spinner had withdrawn after we broke the news to him, but even he appears to be isolating himself once more. The revelation about my power hardly seemed to faze anyone, given the more dour tragedy that occurred earlier. I begin to doubt whether I should have offered consolation in the first place. It seems like it only brought about the opposite effect.
There is no more time to ponder when Machia clutches Mount Lady and flings her away like a frisbee. From our vantage, we see the hero somersault away, kicking up more dirt and rock on the way. Is her neck broken?
I hope so. It would mean one crisis averted.
But here's the thing about heroes. They're so stubbornly persistent, it's annoying.
Not even ten seconds after their first comrade has fallen do two more heroes make the stupid mistake of trying to take us down. Honestly, what is with it heroes and martyr complexes? Did all of them leave their sense of self-preservation in the same place where they got their license?
I discern that it is a man and a woman, but without amplifying my sight, it is nigh impossible to place their identities. And when I do, I almost wish that I hadn't.
Midnight-sensei and Kamui Woods-san.
Of course, it would be my own teacher who would carry the mantle of recklessness.
Their mouths are moving. Reluctantly, I amplify my hearing, too.
Sensei shouts, "Stay focused! They must've failed in Jaku! And if this guy descends upon the city, we're looking at an unprecedented catastrophe. Power alone won't stop him!" And I really do not like what she does next. "So get me," biting off a scrap of her leotard, "near his face!"
Gulping down any hesitation, I steel my nerves to prove Shigaraki right. That I have the capability of killing the same people I went to school with.
"Dabi," I say and point at the Pro-Heroes.
He does not need any more indication. Blue floods from his palms, enveloping the two people in flames of 1500 degrees Celsius. I shut my eyes. It was pointless, though. Kamui Woods-san died, but he used his last moments to propel Midnight-sensei out of harm's way.
The responsibility falls back to me. Tugging Mr. Compress's sleeve, I exclaim, "The marbles!"
And before Sensei can greet us with a gas explosion of sleep-inducing pheromones, Mr. Compress's marbles morph into concrete boulders to initiate the welcome instead. One slab of concrete breaks her femur. The other her humerus. The final, her skull.
I watch Midnight-sensei crash to the forested ground. And with her descent, so does my scale of deeds and sins. No amount of grass will absorb the damage to her, just as no number of kind acts will absolve me of my crimes. Thus far, I have killed wrongdoers and innocents alike. But now I have the blood of a teacher on my hands. My teacher.
I recall the first words she spoke to me. That party on the evening of the first day of school. I had approached her to curry favor with her. She had promised to make a hero out of me in spite of my disease. Our first conversation had been a lie and our final encounter a deception.
Easier said than done, indeed. All that confidence I put on in front of Shigaraki disappeared when it actually came to killing people who only wished the best for me.
Yet there are so many more I must do the same to. This is no time to develop a conscience. I have no right to, either.
Distantly, I hear Mr. Compress chastise Dabi for taking the heroes too lightly.
Gigantomachia continues chasing after Shigaraki. Midnight-sensei's corpse becomes a silhouette, then a spot, ultimately disappearing amongst the foliage. And with her, my last remnants of regret.
I glance at my watch. Only fifteen more minutes before I have to teleport to aid Shigaraki. Returning to the gang of villains, they all appear equally anxious to reach the main battlefield.
All of a sudden, Machia's speed drops. Whereas earlier he was easily going at 150 kilometers per hour, now he is moving at half that speed. My head twists in all directions to locate the newest problem. Makeshift frisbee Mount Lady is back again, hugging Machia's left leg like a body pillow. Have you no sense of dignity? How embarrassing!
Apparently, the Ten-Times-XL frisbee has self-awareness. "I haven't been this clingy since middle school, dammit!"
Oh, you were like this when you were younger? No wonder your attitude is so perverse toward boys. The word 'perverse' reminds me of a story I heard when Class 1-A was receiving a lesson about public image from Mount Lady and Midnight-sensei. This woman had the audacity to make some lecherous comments about Shouto, a boy seven years her junior and more importantly, a minor. My eye twitches just from recalling what the students said.
No one preys on the boy I love!
My body prepares for a leap before I realize it.
"Whoa, Selene, where are you going?" Mr. Compress calls out, pulling me back by the arm. Spinner assist him by grabbing the other arm.
Glaring at both of them in turns, I hiss, "To teach that predator a lesson on choosing her targets carefully."
They stare at me with equal looks of confusion. Yes, Mr. Compress is wearing a mask, so there is no way to actually prove it. But I just know. Then they gaze at each other. Back at me. Back to each other. The cycle continues. Their grip loosens. I take advantage of their puzzlement to break free of their grasps and jump.
Here's another thing about heroes. Recklessness and underestimation come as a package. If the villains can undervalue the obstinate nature of heroes, then heroes can also miscalculate the scheming minds of villains. See, everyone knows the name and face of everyone who was a member of the League of Villains. But there is no hero alive to know the identity of their spy.
And that is precisely what I take advantage of when my sword meets Mount Lady's eye.
As soon as I withdraw the katana, a geyser of blood bursts from the wound, showering me in red. She howls a scream so primal that savage delight curdles in my stomach. For a moment, I forget my guilt. My shame. Even the urge to vomit dissipates. Perhaps it was a good thing I skipped on a bath this morning, too. It would have been a waste of water.
I stab her eye again. And again. And again. Some more punctures before moving to the other eye. She puts up a good fight, I'll give her that. Either she holds onto Machia and hinder his progress, or she releases him and stops me from attacking. Two equally terrible choices. For a long time, Mount Lady desperately clutches Gigantomachia's leg, foolishly believing that she has the power to stop a titan. It's so entertaining to watch the hope seep from her eyes - Ha, ha, ha! Seep from her eyes! Her grip loosens. Finger by finger. Stab after stab.
By the time I am finished, her eyes are so badly disfigured that not even Recovery Girl can restore her organs. And because I do not like to leave the job unfinished, I run atop her nose to the top of her head. She curses me all the while. Don't waste your breath. I am already damned. Finally, I penetrate the cranium. Past flesh, muscle, bone, into the brain.
Her head unceremoniously lolls forward. The last of her fingers slip, and the struggle is over.
I levitate back to Machia's back. From the expressions on the others' faces, I must be a sight to behold. Mania must be radiating from my eyes and delirium from my smile. Finding a decent vertebra to lean against, I sit down and close my eyes. Hopefully, I can spend the remaining ten minutes in peace.
Not for the first time today do I jinx myself.
This time Gigantomachia stops. Actually stops. Imagine a racecar that was travelling at maximum speed suddenly apply the brakes. First the jolt against the back of the seat. Then the screeching of the tires. The skidding. The loss of control. And finally, the equal and opposite jolt toward the front of the seat.
That's how it feels. I was having a grand time when the earth slipped beneath me. Everyone floats in the air as he continues to descend. Why did the roller coaster malfunction?
Loosing her footing, Toga starts to stumble over. I barely manage to grab her by the collar in time. Pulling her beside me, she gasps, "Mud! The dirt is mud!"
Machia's jaw crashes down. The last part of his fall. And ours if we do not do something soon.
While my comrades search for hiding spots to prepare for an ambush of their own, I climb toward Machia's head. One girl from Class 1-B with vines for hair unleashes a barrage of green plants, wrapping them around his throat. Machia manages to lift his head just enough to uproot the vines, but three ropelike nooses attach to his chin, compensating for the plants.
"U.A.!" Mr. Compress screams. "Looks like they've been hiding in-wait for us!"
No sooner does he finish do three students ambush from behind us. For the few seconds they are in midair, they have the advantage. Dabi does not need any prompting, fortunately. His flashfire deters them. That can't be all, though. Indeed, those three were not the only ones waiting in the trees. This time, circular gadgets fly at us. The gadgets stick on our bodies. We frantically try removing them, but to no avail.
I touch one of them. Ouch! A tingle of electricity shoots up my arm. They seem familiar. I've seen them before. I know I have. And then their owner makes an appearance. Kaminari-san. When Class 1-A was focusing on honing their quirks and modifying their costumes in September, Kaminari-san reached out to the Support team to design machines that would send paralyzing currents of electricity at his command.
No. Not now. Not like this.
I have to think of a counterattack before he can render me immobile. But nothing comes to mind.
Apparently, someone else has a plan. Mr. Compress uses the same trick he used on Midnight-sensei. He shoots the last reserves of his marbles at Kaminari-san, releasing the boulders at point-blank. "Careful now!" he taunts, as a battered Kaminari-san loses consciousness and falls. "I've stocked up on materials from the villa! But it looks like I just exhausted all my stock."
"No problem," Dabi mutters. And then it is his turn to take advantage of the chaos. A ring of blue fire encircles the young aspirants, trapping them in their own trap. If their plan was to flee after stopping Gigantomachia, then their hopes just went into flames. It is so hot that the waves even make beads of sweat coalesce on my forehead.
I'm so happy at my comrades' ingeniousness that I could almost kiss them. Almost. For one, my lips are painted with blood. For another, Dabi calls me a peacock, and I am determined not to lose my haughtiness any time soon.
Still, the stench of burnt flesh pierces my nose harsher than any smell of iron or copper.
His arms, which were already purple from burns, turn black. Tendrils of smoke waft up.
Toga asks, "Is your arm okay?"
To which Dabi gives no response. Instead, he remarks, "A quirk that converts energy during battle to an increase in body size. A quirk that blocks out pain." Praise sounds abnormal from your mouth. Just who are you talking about that's captivated your interest? "Not only that … but all sorts of quirks that are useful for long periods on the battlefield … that's what the Doctor said anyway.
"This guy's the perfect fit for a bodyguard."
As if to remove any lingering doubt in that statement, Gigantomachia raises himself, tearing the extensions that were anchoring his head to the ground. Must admire the brute's tenacity.
Horrified voices from the students ring out, unsure of what to do now that their trap failed. That is when the ringleader of the motley intervenes. "Not yet!" she shouts. I recognize the owner of this voice. Yaoyorozou-san. So she's the commander. She yells more instructions, of which the gist is that there are explosives buried at the bottom of the mud pit. Once those explode, Machia will be trapped for good.
Spinner doubts, "Isn't it within his capabilities to just go and dig underground? In fact, he'd be faster-"
"If he starts digging, we'll all die …" Mr. Compress interrupts. Then even I won't be able to help. "He was given orders to bring us to Shigaraki. We might actually just be holding him back right now."
The notion does not sit right with me. Shigaraki's third order for me was to help the villains in all manners possible. I'm supposed to assist, not burden. There must be some escape from this predicament. I start to formulate a plan when a nemesis I believed dead returns from the afterlife.
Mount Lady. Like a meteor, she arrives from above and crashes onto Machia's back, almost crushing the rest of us. Where are eyes were is now a messy artwork of lacerations. Even the wound on her skull bleeds profusely. But the damn predator is still alive! How? How did she manage to track us? Please tell me this is just sheer willpower during her final moments giving her this surge of strength?
Blindly, she fumbles around for Machia's mouth. Once locating his upper teeth, she shoves her hand inside and pries his jaw open. "I need to shake them off so they can't regroup again …" he mumbles as best as a man can when his mouth is pried apart.
That is when I spot Ashido-san, wearing full-body armor of her own acid, take aim for Gigantomachia's mouth.
That is also when I realize that once again it is up to me to finish the heroes for good.
You leave me no choice. All of you must die.
Dabi's wall of fire still rages with might. It is keeping the students isolated from the rest of the world. I can use it to my advantage.
I remove my mask.
"Everyone," I begin, "Forgive me once more for gouging into fresh wounds."
And with that, I transform into the true form of the Devil.
Lucifer Morningstar in all her glory.
Three pairs of wings detonate from my spine as though they were always waiting for this moment to arrive. Flapping them, I rise up, blocking the sunlight like a solar eclipse. I am the eclipse. The light glimmers off the wings, bestowing upon everyone their diabolic magnificence. Six sets of peacock feathers. Black shafts, black barbs, black barbules. The eyes, however, are different. Beginning with an outer ring of grey, the middle turns white, and the final concentric circle gleams silver. So silver, it is practically a mirror. Hundreds of winged, bloody Selenes reflect off the surface of the metallic sheen.
"Damn, the peacock really became a peacock," Dabi murmurs.
Toga claps her hands slowly.
Mr. Compress whistles.
Spinner swallows so hard he chokes.
Skeptic shields his eyes to block the searing reflections.
Which means that even the heroes were taken off guard.
Indeed, where just moments ago Ashido-san was prepared to throw a container of unknown liquid into head-on, her hold loosens. The jar slips from her hand. Machia takes advantage of the surprise to bite down on Mount Lady's hand and fling her away. This time, like a javelin. The four fingers Mount Lady had used to keep his jaw open are severed in the process. The appendages fall to the ground with a spit while their owner breaks through numerous mountains headfirst.
She's dead for sure now.
As for Ashido-san, Gigantomachia reaches out a hand to crush her in his fist. I brace for the squelch of bones soon to follow, but Kirishima-san shoves her out of the way at the last moment, taking the brunt himself.
Given his hardening quirk, he actually stands a chance.
I refuse to give my enemy the upper hand!
He may have been the first to recover from the marvel earlier, but he won't anticipate an attack from behind. Not when his entire focus is on hindering Machia. I start to make my descent.
Meanwhile, Machia stands up. The complete twenty-five meters. Looking every bit like the titan he is. I have never been so happy to see a monster survive such hardship as I am now. My comrades are sitting in the palm of his hand, safe from all the rampant destruction that occurred and is about to ensue. I bite back a chuckle when one foolish student clings onto his hand, desperate to climb up and face the villains by himself, and Toga pushes him off with a flick to his head. "The flies … are gone," Gigantomachia rumbles. The satisfaction rolls off him in waves. It makes me heady. I believe I can carry out the unforgivable sins I intend to commit without remorse. "Make sure I got his comrades."
But life has a way of mocking you when you feel at the top of the world.
It's already happened so many times since this morning.
Kirishima-san did not die. Somehow, he escaped from Machia's death fist to digging into Machia's arm for purchase.
"I am Red Riot. I will not leave blood behind me!"
"A fly!" Gigantomachia exclaims, just as confused as I am.
Kirishima-san throws another vial of the same substance. Toga's precisely aimed knife shatters it even before it began its trajectory. For a moment, I think it is over. But then he has the gall to produce another bottle.
Everything around me disappears. It is just me and that glass container. What it contains, I do not know. But if the heroes are so desperate to put it into Machia's mouth, I cannot let them have their way. The container seeks a straight arc toward its destination. My wings push me forward, seeking to counter its arc. A competition has begun. Between me and time.
I can stop it. I can stop him. I can stop them all. No. I will stop it. I will stop him. I will stop them all.
And just as the vial enters the oral cavity, I grab one of Gigantomachia's lower canines and twist my body, moving my rear foot toward the front. Swinging it, lifting it until it is level with my head. The bottle touches the tip of the boot. I drop my foot.
The bottle zooms away in the direction it came from, crashing against a tree trunk.
With it, so do the students' last hopes.
"THE FLIES ARE NEVER-ENDING!" Gigantomachia roars.
"Worry not, Machia," I reply, unfeeling and ruthless. "The thing about flies is that they only flutter for so long. Their lifespans are always cut short."
The peacock wings more than just reflect light. Each feather separates from my body. From each other. They twist and rotate until their ends are aimed at each idealistic teenager who dreamt the stupid dream of becoming a hero. A snap of my fingers and, like arrows, they find their targets.
One. Kaminari-san's head and body sever into two.
Two. Jirou-san clutches her stomach before falling back.
Three. Mineta-san impales against a tree.
Four. Mud boy and vine girl stumble into the flames.
Five. Metal body boy tries blocking the feather-sword. But diamond cuts diamond. My blades are sharper than his defense. His spleen ruptures.
As for those who miraculously escape my wings, they receive a special premium death from me personally. Ashido-san, who dared to tackle a behemoth one-on-one. I greet her with an embrace. An embrace to force her own acid down her throat. She topples on her back, bringing me down atop her. After clamping her nose shut with one hand, acid runs from my other hand like a waterfall. She chokes on it. Tries to spit it out. Shakes her head side to side. Claws at my arms.
There is no doubt that she recognizes me at this point. The betrayal shimmers in her almost-popped-out eyes. You can produce a poison. Your external body is immune to it. But what about internally? Your tolerance will undoubtedly be higher than most, but even that has a limit. I want to see yours.
And I do see it. Her resistance eases. Movements become sluggish. Her eyes gloss over. Finally, her body stills.
I release her. A long time ago, she wished to befriend me. I had done my utmost to reject her advances. Had I known this day would come, I would have asked to transfer into another department.
My next opponent is Kirishima-san. He glares at me with all the wrath of the world. "How could you?" he shrieks, voice quivering. "You were one of us. A student at U.A. Part of Class 1-A. A future hero like the rest of us." His bones are broken and chest battered beyond recognition. Still, he raises his fists and changes his stance, bracing for a fight. Heroes and their stubborn attitudes. It is a challenge he wants. It is a challenge he shall get.
I saunder toward him. Slowly.
"WHY DID YOU DO THIS?!" he howls. "WHY WOULD YOU BETRAY US? DO YOU NOT CARE ABOUT DOING THE RIGHT THING?!"
Someone decides to sneak up on me. Someone with a quirk that allows them to separate their body into fragments. Said fragments swirl around me, forming a tornado, blocking my vision. Like debris, the fragments hit me and scratch me. I do not stop, though.
I find the owner's heartbeat. Imagine the blood pulsing through it. In and out. In and out. In and out. And stop. Just like that. The fragments assemble together, revealing a girl in an ugly, purple mask and bodysuit. She grabs her chest, panting for air like a sweaty dog. I step over her body, leaving her to succumb to her fate.
Only a ten meters gap between Kirishima-san and I.
Another girl decides to attack me. She wears a mushroom cap and a dress completely ill-suited to combat. Fungus - possibly, poisonous - blooms on my forearms and shins. I slap across her face, decaying her immediately. The fungi wither.
Five meters.
More stragglers spend their final moments fighting me. I am tired of everyone's reckless mindset. A few inane patterns on my thigh, and everyone from Class 1-B and almost everyone from Class 1-A kill themselves trying to escape the psychological nightmares that fill their heads.
The two left standing are Kirishima-san and Yaoyorozou-san.
One meter left.
Yaoyorozou-san contorts her expression into that of sheer disgust. Narrowed eyes and a prominent frown. "We saved you from All for One last summer. We heard that your family was killed by the League of Villains." Her tone is accusatory, as if demanding an explanation for my actions.
I halt. Our positions form a triangle, where two points assume fighting poses but hesitate in their shivering. "How are your intercoms working?" I begin. They stare at me confused. Then Yaoyorozou-san touches her earpiece. Understanding dawns on her face. "Truly a shame that no one will know what you learned today. Neither of you will be leaving this place alive to tell the tale in person."
"You lied about your quirk," Yaoyorozou-san whispers. "It was never Elements. It was so much more."
I nod. They do not need nor deserve any reasoning for the things I did, but I will let them die with the knowledge that they severely underestimated me. I will also give them one final bit of truth. "The rescue you were talking about … actually, I orchestrated the entire thing. I let myself be kidnapped. And as for the murders, I invited the villains into my home. So you see, Kirishima-san and Yaoyorozou-san, it was never my desire to become a hero."
Kirishima-san starts to harden his body until there is no vulnerable skin visible. Yaoyorozou-san parts her costume to summon a new gadget. I must stop them before their defenses are complete.
"Halt." The command holds the same power as the law. Shinsou-san's ability renders the two of them completely immobile. Blocks of armor soften into fragile flesh. Whatever creation was in the process of being made tips over incomplete. Their eyes are as dull as a doll's. Faces as slack as a puppet. They are my marionettes to do whatever I wish with them.
I consider the best manner of killing them. Sure, they did save me a few times. At least, they believed they saved me. However, the massacre I committed just now was to make a statement. I cannot let the final survivors get a quick demise. Swallowing the last putrid residues of guilt, I issue my final order to them.
"Fight each other to death."
Two daggers flash in my hands. I toss them into the air, watching each marionette catch one with adept skill.
Yaoyorozou-san initiates the battle, thrusting the blade at Kirishima-san's gut. "Sorry," I say, as the knife grazes his stomach just enough to cause tendrils of skin to blacken and curl. Kirishima-san retaliates by chopping off her ear. Acrid smoke rises from the missing appendage. "You were good people. In another world and another time, I would have loved to be friends." The battle continues. Fingers are chopped off. Eyes are popped out. Ears are torn. Faces are mangled beyond recognition. Poison rots every inch. Life leaves their gruesome artworks of a body, daggers resting beside them. I close their eyelids as a last part of courtesy. Turning around, I observe the carnage I wrought. Next to each classmate's corpse, I pause a moment, silently apologizing for my sins. Shed a few tears of regret. They will never forgive me. They have no reason to. I know that. Perhaps I am asking it for the sake of what could have been.
Under different circumstances, maybe we would have had a chance to get to know each other better.
Kaminari-san, I would have accepted that invite to lunch.
I would have thanked you properly for coming to my defense when Mineta-san attempted to molest me, Kirishima-san.
Yaoyorozou-san, I would have made a better effort at befriending you when you approached me to introduce yourself.
I would have loved to play music with you, Jirou-san.
Class 1-B, I would have enjoyed a friendly rivalry with you.
But those are a lot of 'would haves.' Possibilities cannot change what has been done. What has happened is that I made my choice. I obeyed Shigaraki's commands. Fourth command: torment the heroes. I killed strangers. I killed my teacher. I killed my classmates.
When everyone knows you're a monster, you needn't waste time doing every monstrous thing.
Today, I have broken my principle a thousand times today.
Once my private eulogy is complete, I return to the Army. They ask no questions about my behavior. I'm glad they don't because I have no answer for them. Instead, I glance at my watch. Two minutes until I must teleport. Already, the signs of an arthritic flare are manifesting. Gigantomachia's speed may be impressive, but not fast enough to get us to the hospital remains in time. "Mr. Compress! Anaesthetic and enhancer, now!"
He tosses one drug to Toga, who adeptly catches it. Together, they thrust the syringes into my jugular veins and press the plunger. I breathe out a sigh of relief as the pain starts to fade.
One minute and thirty seconds left.
"Mr. Compress, take these marbles. They contain golden viper venom, and I made them distinctly yellow so you can differentiate them from your own arsenal." He pockets the yellow orbs into a pocket. "Spinner, use these swords. They're more durable and deadlier. And Toga, your knives are chipped and blunted." I pass her my set of un-poisoned ones and craft a belt with a few more to complete the set. "Dabi, you …" Burning flesh permeates my nose even after much time has passed. The burns are worse than I thought.
"Hold out your hands," I demand. He does nothing of the sort. Rather, he cocks his head back and looks the other way. "Do you really want to get on the bad side of a peacock with blades for feathers?"
He scoffs, "You wouldn't hurt your allies. Grand Commander's orders. Leave it."
His callous attitude raises both eyebrows from me. "Are you sure you want to take that chance? Don't forget, I exploited Twice's and Hawks's abilities."
Reluctantly relenting, he extends his arms. When I touch his wrists, he hisses. But that is all the reaction he belays of his pain. I decide not to press him on the issue. Focusing on the charred skin is my priority. Perhaps now is not the time to experiment, but I wonder that if without drugs I can heal myself, with drugs could I heal others, too? Sealing my wounds comes at the price of a bout of arthritis, so likely I will have to compensate treating someone else's injuries with equivalent pain.
My theory turns out to be true. As I force Dabi's skin to regenerate, returning from black to purple, I feel my own body burn. Despite possessing a fire quirk, my arms catch on blue fire and singe. The fireproof nature of my costume thus far protect me from any critical harm. Still, the heat and sting become more uncomfortable by the second.
A point arrives where I can handle no more.
I release Dabi's hands. The new flesh is tender and raw. Purple, but not smelling or smoking anymore. As a precaution, I remove my waistcoat and tear it into strips.
When I began wrapping one black strip around his forearm, though, he pulls back. "That is dirty with blood and sweat and who knows what else. Keep that grimy stuff away from me."
Scowling at him, I pull his hand back with more force than necessary. "Stop complaining! The outside surface is dirty but the inside surface is still clean." Twisting the cloth up and around his new skin, I explain, "My costume comes with some fire resistance qualities. It should help reduce the physical damage on your body when you inevitably unleash your quirk again. God knows you'll need all the protection you can get."
"Why bestow this kindness on us all of a sudden?" he asks, once I finish safeguarding both forearms.
Just as I tie the final knot, I reply, "I have lied and I have betrayed and I have triumphed. If only there was someone to congratulate me." I rest the back of my hand against my forehead, an exaggerated expression of woe. My attempt at humor goes unappreciated, too. Fine! Have it your way, you grouchy, cheap, cocky Frankenstein imitation. "Kurogiri, Magne, Shigaraki, Twice … I am tired of being part of the reason my comrades die or are abducted. This day is going to end with only one victor, and I want it to be us. I refuse to let my allies' sacrifices be in vain."
With that, I turn to face Skeptic. "Sorry for jamming the signal earlier. Please check in with Re-Destro if you must. Just remember that I haven't neglected him, either. Yotsubashi-san is important to me, just as he is to you."
Thirty seconds.
My last address is to Machia. Hovering above his nose and away from his face just enough so that he doesn't have to cross eyes to see me, I tell him, "I am going to see Shigaraki soon. Your Master will be there when you arrive. I promise you that. But you have to promise me something, too. Keep our villain friends here safe."
He grunts. I'll interpret that as a yes.
"One more thing. Feel free on your rampage. Destroy as many cities as you wish. But leave the Hanada infrastructure unscathed."
"We're about to face a life-and-death situation, and you care about your dad's company right now?!" Spinner screams.
My lips purse in response. "That company is my inheritance and the source of your funds!"
"You can always claim insurance!" he retorts.
The nerve!
"You think insurance companies will have any money left after dealing with civilians' property damage?"
Mr. Compress sighs, "Let it go, Spinner … you know she has a point."
See, he understands!
"Amongst all the problems I've had to deal with today, personal damages will not be one of them!"
My watch rings.
It's time to go.
Whatever complaints Spinner might have yet to express go unheard.
Yet I distinctly hear Dabi remark, "Territorial as a peacock, too."
Note: I have copied some dialogue from one of the English-translated versions of the manga. The links to the chapters are here:
.online/manga/boku-no-hero-academia-chapter-278/
.online/manga/boku-no-hero-academia-chapter-279/
.online/manga/boku-no-hero-academia-chapter-280/
Citations:
"When everyone knows you're a monster, you needn't waste time doing every monstrous thing." - Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo
""I have lied and I have betrayed and I have triumphed. If only there was someone to congratulate me." - The Cruel Prince by Holly Black