Tonight should have been business as usual. Yet for the life of him, he couldn't reconcile what happened with what he remembered. Ever since he dealt with Satori, he felt wrong, like something was crooked, something he couldn't quite place. Where was the joy? The C.R.C. had taken more from him than anyone else. He'd hunted their members down and done some pretty despicable things to them. Sewing them to their own bed sheets had been something he remembered quite enjoying. But right now, the thought only threatened to make him sick. What had changed? He was still the same; he couldn't see what had changed for him to hold back so much against them, to feel different about the things he used to do frequently.
As the train brought him ever closer to Mei's house, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was wrong with him. Killing Magong left him... strange. He didn't remember—o-O-o UNDERSTOOD o-O-o—why he needed to kill; she was barely a threat. But worse even was what he did to the girl. A puppet, yes, but innocent. Takuma wasn't in the business of hurting those who didn't deserve it, yet he had killed her as easily as he breathed.
"Why did I do that?!" he whispered to himself, frustration mounting as he held his head in his hands.
This question was for more than just this night. Why the hell did he think using a gang was a good idea?
o-O-o POWER o-O-o CONTROL o-O-o
The problem was dealt with, but even then he had burned his persona as The Chemist for good. The Black Dragon wouldn't take kindly to being played, and his alias would probably be at the top of their shit list for a while. He had done some pretty horrible things with it. To the C.R.C., again.
It felt like all the horrible nights he'd spent running away from whatever the streets had to throw at him didn't matter—all the friends he'd lost to a turf war, a jumped-up villain with delusions of grandeur. All that, only to do the same to some poor sods down the line?
'Are you fucking with me?!' he raged as his nails started to dig into the flesh of his scalp. 'This isn't—o-O-o IS o-O-o—me!'
It felt like glass going through every inch of his skull, flaying every nerve. Yet he couldn't even manage a whimper. He needed to go home.
o-O-o FIND o-O-o
The train stopped, and he wobbly left the wagon, starting to walk the long road toward Mei's house.
o-O-o SERVE o-O-o
Somehow, he found himself walking in the other direction. So he turned and made sure his eyes were focused on the right thing—Mei's house in the distance, barely visible behind the trees.
o-O-o OBEY o-O-o
Putting one foot in front of the other became harder by the second. It was difficult to breathe; his bag felt like it weighed a hundred times more than he remembered. Still, he put one foot in front of the other. He couldn't think. It hurt too much.
Then he felt her. The weight he felt gradually lessened to the point where he could breathe again. He could feel her—her worries, the exhaustion she felt as sleep evaded her. How out of sorts she was when he wasn't there. Some part of him, the part he didn't want to acknowledge, loved that she felt that way. The other part knew he would have to make sure she wasn't so dependent on him that she wouldn't be able to walk away when she inevitably realized he wasn't good enough for her. But that was a problem for later; right now, she was the only one that mattered. He needed to see her, to touch her, to—o-O-o KILL o-O-o—her.
Takuma stopped, feeling that something deeply wrong had just happened. Wielding his Quirk with a shot of adrenaline in his veins, he checked for anything that could bring such a sense of unease. Was Mei in danger? No one was around, though that didn't mean much after the night he'd just had. His heart was doing its best to escape his chest, slamming itself into his ribcage.
'Am I under attack?!'
No. There was no one. No one but him and Mei slowly falling apart. He needed to go home. He didn't want her to keep feeling that way when he was so close. He wanted her to—o-O-o DIE o-O-o. Maybe he could make her some hot chocolate to help her feel better. She was exhausted; he didn't like feeling her overworking herself. She wasn't much better than Mido—o-O-o TAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKETAKE o-O-o
He was on the ground. Truly, he should have been used to it by now. Takuma sighed as he stood up and dusted himself off. He didn't know why he was wasting time here when he should have been busy working out All Might's PTSD to make him relinquish One For All to him. The heir was a problem that needed to be dealt with. Burning his house down would do the trick. He could even kill his mother in front of him for some added fun. It was a mercy, considering how pathetic that little shit was—a Quirkless thing, not even human, that should never have been born in the first place. It was about time someone rectified this mistake.
The wave of emotion coming from the only woman in range was getting increasingly annoying. He didn't know who she was, but caving her head in with a hammer sounded downright heavenly right about now. Takuma started his walk toward the house. He was about to have some fun. The woman inside was a squirmy little thing, so full of fear and uncertainty that he could barely stop himself from gagging. He slipped into her thoughts with the ease of slipping on an old pair of socks and started—
Takuma's eyes fluttered open.
'Why am I on the ground?'
Did he pass out? He didn't think he was tired enough to reach that point yet. Moving to a seated position, he dusted himself off. He had reached the scrapyard and was only a few dozen meters away from the house. Mei was still in there, alone. Takuma stood up, dusted himself off again, and walked back to the house. His head hurt. Every thought was painful. He didn't know what was happening to him. He just knew that when he saw her, everything would be better.
He dragged himself, each step harder than the last, until finally, he reached the door. He was glad he had taken the time to fix his clothes before coming back. He hid the blood as best he could, but the torn jacket and multiple cuts and bruises on his face wouldn't disappear on their own. Takuma breathed in, reached for the handle, and opened the door.
The smell of grease and oil assaulted his senses like an old friend he had missed. He stepped in and closed the door. Mei was bundled up on the couch, music playing in her earbuds as she doomscrolled through her feed. From an outsider's perspective, anyone else would have thought she was having a grand old time. He knew better; he could hear her screaming at herself to do something, anything but what she was doing. It was rare for Mei to fall into the pit like that—she was usually more on the hyperactive end of the ADHD spectrum—but that didn't stop her from showing other signs. Executive dysfunction was something that particularly hurt her mental health, which is why he always made sure to be there to give her that little push she needed to break out of it. He hadn't been there for her, and she was suffering because of it. It wouldn't be the first time he had let down a friend.
She was a mess. He wasn't much better. Still, seeing her made everything easier. His chest didn't hurt as much, and though his head was still killing him, it took a back seat in his mind as his favorite person was in front of him.
Joining her on the couch felt like the right thing to do. But he couldn't really do that when he was covered in dust, grime, and blood—some of it his own. He had made sure to hide the worst of it before taking the many trains he needed to get home. He couldn't risk being followed. So he took a few steps, slowly walking into her field of vision. Still nothing. She kept scrolling through her phone; anyone else would have noticed him. Mei's quirk helped her focus, but it also made her oblivious to things that didn't catch her interest. Looking around, he noticed a bolt that had somehow made its way to the oak table. He picked it up and threw it into her lap. Mei jumped in surprise, then looked straight at him.
"I'm home," he said, his voice barely more than a broken whisper.
His girlfriend's eyes grew wide as she took in his state—the torn jacket, the barely hidden blood on his clothes, and probably the numerous cuts and bruises on his face that he still couldn't remember how he had gotten. Takuma prepared himself as best he could; she would probably yell at him. He didn't doubt he deserved it for being so reckless.
Wrath and horror, overbearing emotions, hit him as he winced and took a step back, clutching his head. Mei stood up, dropping her earbuds on the ground before she closed in on him, grabbing his hand. It was gentle; it felt nice.
"Welcome back," she greeted him with a sad frown as she slowly pulled him toward the couch. He stumbled, and she was there to catch him, slowly letting him down onto the couch. She took a knee next to him. "Are you hurt?"
"Am I?" he wondered. He wasn't sure. Everything was too much. His head hurt so much that he had a hard time thinking. He knew he had a wound on his neck that had been healed by the Carmine girl, but the rest escaped him right now.
"I don't know," he replied. Those three simple words were all he could manage.
"I'm going to help you take off the jacket, okay?" she told him as he nodded, and she pulled the heavy piece of clothing off him.
Takuma didn't miss how she took every tear and hole in the jacket as a personal slight. Hopefully, she wouldn't be too mad at him for messing up her work. With it off, he could now breathe easier—another weight off his shoulders—as he realized his back was more tender than he expected it to be. The woman with the Bone Quirk packed quite a punch. He shifted his back and muscles, making them pop loudly in a series of cracks that weren't reassuring to hear but left him with a sense of relief. It didn't hurt much; nothing really hurt except his head.
A hand landed on his chest, and he was quick to grab it. He turned his head to see Mei staring at him with the same saddened frown he couldn't bear to see.
"Sorry," he said as he let go of her hand. "I think I might be a bit frazzled."
"I'm going to take your breastplate off," she warned him as she did so, loosening the straps on his sides and back.
He helped her as best he could, which wasn't much. There was a noticeable amount of blood, most of it his own, which did nothing to improve his girlfriend's mood. He hoped it wouldn't be too hard to clean.
"Tak," the gentle tone brought him back from the daze that threatened to overtake him. He again turned his head to look at her. "Does it hurt anywhere?"
The situation he was in felt strange. It was the first time someone had looked after him after a bad night, and it felt weird having her take care of him like this.
"My head," he told her, fighting whatever was happening in his mind. "I overused my quirk again."
"There's a lot of blood on your shirt. Is it...?"
"Mine. Got caught in the neck by a... ganger," he told her, remembering to obscure the name of a growing power in the underworld at the last minute. "Caught the killer," he added, unsure if she would care about the news.
"What happened?" she asked as she laid a hand on his cheek, wiping something with her thumb.
Takuma laid his hand on hers so she would keep it there. It was comforting, warm.
"I went back. Executed the plan. Got the two kids out before anyone else could get to them," he informed her blankly. "Things went from bad to worse after that. Another syndicate was in the area, pulling strings from the shadows. It sent most of my plan down the drain and turned last night into a shitshow. The fight spilled out pretty much everywhere around the city, so I spent my time running everywhere, getting people to safety, making sure no one who didn't deserve it got hurt."
"How bad was it?" she asked again with a gentleness that made him want to scream.
"Very. There was more than just the local gang running around," he told her slowly. "It was a mix of bad and worse. Other crime syndicates acted to ensure the Black Dragon didn't succeed against the C.R.C. There was also a villain running around. Maybe two. And that's not even mentioning the three fifteen-year-old kids who turned out to be the killers."
Mei hummed sadly. "Well, hopefully, those little shits won't hurt anyone else."
"You don't have to worry; the one with the most dangerous quirk got killed by a hero. They won't ever be a threat."
"It feels weird to hear about a hero killing," his girlfriend sighed while scooting closer to him.
"She didn't have much of a choice," he continued, enjoying the closeness she brought him. "The kid had a quirk that could hold someone in place; they'd already stabbed her a few times before I got there. I'm lucky I brought so many tourniquets, or she wouldn't have made it."
"She was lucky you were there," she added while her hand invited him to look her in the eyes. "Hey, could you let go?"
He frowned in confusion before her other hand landed on his arm. He was trying hard not to let his hand shake, so much so that he had ended up with a death grip on his own wrist.
"I'd rather not," he replied, hoping she wouldn't push the issue.
"I'm not letting you hurt yourself," she declared with an edge of steel in her voice as she slowly started to pry open his fingers from his own wrist. His nails were bloody from digging into the flesh of his forearm.
"Funny, I didn't even notice."
After prying his hand off, she was kind enough to hold his arm in place as the shaking went up to his elbow. It was a small tremor, yet it was hard to miss.
"You know, you always shake when you're stressed," Mei told him, revealing this little tidbit as he thought he had done a good job hiding his shaking hand from her. "What's on your mind? Don't keep it to yourself, tell me."
It felt like someone was pushing broken glass through his skull. The headache worsened in a way he couldn't explain. He felt sick, nauseous. But that didn't stop him from talking.
"I think there's something wrong with me," he told her, not yet understanding where he was going with this. "I don't understand why I do the things that I do. It doesn't make any sense."
His voice gained some strength in the middle of his sentence as Mei continued to listen, still and focused in a way he rarely ever saw her. He hated seeing her waste her time with him. He was truly the worst thing that had happened to her.
"Tonight wasn't even the worst night I've had. Everything feels wrong... the people I've hurt, the monsters in their own right. But why do I feel this way? I used to hunt them down for sport. Now... I can't even make them pay for what they did without feeling horrible," he confessed, laying bare the dark acts of his past. He remembered them, but it was like seeing through a veil—detached, distant, as if he was watching someone else commit those despicable acts. "Even the way I act doesn't make sense. I went there to put a criminal behind bars, and barely two heartbeats later, I'm playing politics with the gang when I should have waited and gathered information. I put so many people in danger. Years ago, I was the one getting caught in the middle of gang wars without a way out, and now I'm doing the same shit!"
His voice gained strength as he slammed his fist into his knee in frustration.
"I don't understand what I'm doing, how I used to do those horrible things without a care in the world," he muttered as Mei gently pried his hand away from digging into his thigh. "I don't think I can do this anymore."
"Then don't," Mei said softly, as if the answer was obvious. "You don't have to put yourself out there anymore. You don't have to do any of those things you used to do. You can stop."
o-O-o ACT o-O-o
Takuma barely held in a whimper as he clutched his head with his hand. His vision blurred, and flashes of light danced at the edges of his sight as the migraine worsened. He couldn't feel himself breathe, let alone think.
o-O-o SUBM-PAIN
Not him. Her.
Takuma's nails dug into his scalp, but he felt nothing. Mei had placed her hand between them and his head. He was hurting her.
"NO!" he shouted, jerking away from her, falling to the floor, and scrambling backward. "I'm sorry, please don't—I'm sorry!"
Her frightened expression was a terrible thing to see, but she stood up and began walking toward him.
"Stay away!" he begged, still crawling backward until his back hit a chair, forcing him to stop. "Please, stop—I'm sorry, please!"
Something wet landed on his cheek. No. He was crying. The realization made him whimper as he desperately tried to wipe the tears from his face. Mei grabbed his hand. He wanted so much to push her away, but the thought of causing her pain made him freeze.
"Look at me," she said softly, her voice filled with a sadness he couldn't bear.
"Mei, please, let me go—I can't, I have to stop—I can't cry, please!" he pleaded, trying to pull his hand away from her grasp but unable to do so without hurting her.
"Why?" she asked gently, her grip firm but not forceful. "Why can't you cry?"
"They're going to hear me," he whimpered, his shaking hand becoming all-encompassing.
"Who is going to hear you?"
He opened his mouth to speak but found no words. He turned his head away, hoping she wouldn't see him like this, but the tears continued to fall, and he couldn't stop himself.
"Tell you what," she said softly, letting go of his hand just long enough to grab a blanket and drape it over his head. "I know a way to stop them from hearing you."
He looked at her, confused, as she added a few pillows and joined him under the blanket. "See? I'm the only one who's going to hear you now."
He wanted to argue that it didn't make sense, but he couldn't. Instead, he cried harder as she embraced him, and he clung to her as if his life depended on it. His hands gripped her clothes so tightly they threatened to tear, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs. He cried, he screamed, and there was nothing else he could do—he was no longer in control. The only thing he managed to do was hold on to Mei as he cried himself to sleep, finally surrendering to exhaustion.
No matter how tough you are, everyone has their limit.