A/N: Alright, here's chapter three! Finally! I had originally planned to post it a week ago, but as I was going through it one last time, my brain said "No. This is terrible. Do it again." So, I did, even if it took another week to rewrite and overhaul. Still, I like it a lot more than the first version I had.

The second half of this chapter also gets kind of dark, so I'ma drop a content warning just in case, but as I'm sort of new to doing so, I'd like you guys to let me know if there's something else I should add.

CW: Mentions of Suicide.

With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy!


Overwhelming Guilt, Firm Resolve


People often say that, when you were scared, when your life was truly on the line, that was when your true colors showed. No matter one's Quirk, it was facing danger and choosing to take that next step forward that made someone hero material. That having a chivalrous spirit would make up for any bodily weakness.

It was something Kirishima had truly believed in, once. His Quirk had never been particularly strong, and it certainly wasn't flashy, but even then, so long as he trained his hardest and tried his best, in the end, it wouldn't matter what his Quirk was.

But now, after everything that had happened, he just wasn't so sure anymore.

With his head hung low, Kirishima stared at the survey form on his desk. It'd been handed out to him and the rest of the third years at the start of the school year so their teachers could help them figure out which high school they wanted to go to. He'd only written down one option, UA High School, which automatically meant it was his first choice. The other boxes had been left blank.

Kirishima had admired heroes for most of his life. He admired how they charged into danger and risked their lives to save people. But, in his eyes, there was one who stood above the rest. He glanced up at the poster on his wall, right above his desk. Crimson Riot stared back down at him.

For some reason, he couldn't help but feel that he was being judged.

Kirishima had always hated his own Quirk, but Crimson Riot's was similar, and despite that, he hardened his heart and stood tall, staring danger in the face to save those who couldn't save themselves. It was inspiring. It had inspired him. When asked, most people would probably say that their favorite hero was All Might or Endeavor, or someone else at the top of the rankings, but for Kirishima, there was no greater hero than Crimson Riot, the man who had made him realize that being a hero was what he'd always wanted to be.

With a teary scowl, Kirishima furiously scribbled over his high school of choice. He put so much force into it that the tip of his pencil snapped, nearly tearing a hole through the paper in the process.

Even now, safely sitting at his desk in his room, he couldn't stop thinking about what happened, how he'd just stood there and watched as that villain had grabbed his classmate and nearly killed her. He'd been totally frozen, and he'd only barely gotten himself to intervene after the villain had left when Shabana had started arguing with Ashido. Ever since he'd tried to stand up to her the day before, Kirishima had been wary of Shabana, so much so that even being in the same room as her made him nervous. He thought it was the way she had knocked him down without any effort, how she'd stared at him as if he were just a bug waiting to be stepped on.

When he'd stood up to her the second time, it'd been different. She'd only been dismissive of him before, the look on her face had been one of disinterest. The second time, with those fangs of hers bared, and with malice in her slit eyes, he'd genuinely thought that she'd hurt him.

He'd been afraid.

For just a moment, she hadn't looked like a teenage girl anymore. The word "demon" had crossed his mind, then. He thought it was fitting, in a way.

Thinking about it even now still gave him goosebumps.

But if he couldn't even stand up to one bully without shaking, then how could he ever hope to stand up to a real villain? How would he ever be able to save lives? How would he be able to reassure people, to tell them it'd all be okay when even he wouldn't believe it himself?

He scoffed. Who was he kidding? He wasn't a hero. He was barely even a man.

Idly, Kirishima reached out, grabbing one of the books on his desk. He stared at it blankly for a second, then hurled it over his shoulder with a growl. It smashed into the shelf behind him, on the opposite end of the room, with a loud thud, immediately followed by several more objects hitting the ground.

He just didn't know what to do...

Maybe... Maybe he should just give up…

"That's not it, is it?"

Kirishima was startled as the sudden voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He whirled, only to relax when he saw that it was just a hologram projector, one playing an old interview about Crimson Riot. His gaze fell lower—towards the pile of objects that had fallen from the shelf when he'd thrown that book—and settled on the half-open case the small projector had fallen out of.

'Oh,' he realized. 'That came with the book about great heroes I got for my birthday a while ago. It must have turned on when it hit the ground. Guess I never got around to watching it.'

"No, I'm sorry! If you're ready, we'll start the interview."

"Right, hit me!"

Kirishima briefly considered turning it off, but he just couldn't bring himself to do so. Besides, it was already playing. 'Might as well watch it.' With that thought, he settled in his seat.

"Even among heroes, you have a reputation for being a bit… reckless—often rushing headlong into danger," the interviewer explained. "Tell me, are you ever afraid in those situations?"

Kirishima frowned. 'What kind of question is that? Of course he's not—'

"Of course I'm afraid!"

His thoughts stopped in their tracks as a startled breath escaped him. 'What? But... How can someone as amazing as him... actually be afraid?'

"Show me somebody who's not afraid of death, and I'll show you an idiot!" Crimson Riot said heatedly. "I'm where I am now because, when I was a sidekick, I failed to save someone in peril."

"I heard about that," the interviewer said, her voice soft. "But it wasn't your fault! With the crime rate as high as it is, there's—"

"I don't think you understand," Crimson Riot interrupted her. "That day, I hesitated, and somebody lost their life because my spirit was weak.

"Yes, I'm frightened when I fight a villain knowing it could end in my death," he continued, "but there's something I fear more: The look on someone's face as they die—that's far worse! It's the fear of seeing that look again that drives me."

Absently, Kirishima felt a gasp leave his throat, but his focus was somewhere else—on the memories flashing through his mind, on the look on Shabana's face as he'd stood by and nearly watched her die. He could remember it with startling clarity—the way tears had spilled from her eyes and the way she'd desperately struggled to get free, only for those same struggles to slow and weaken as she ran out of strength.

At the time, he hadn't paid much attention to it, but looking back, there was a point where she'd just... stopped. She'd stopped fighting. During that moment, this look had crossed her face. It was a look of hopeless resignation.

She'd realized that she was going to die... and she'd just accepted it.

It scared him, he realized. That look...

It scared him out of his mind.

"Can you tell me what chivalry means to you?"

"Having a strong spirit! It isn't a matter of being bold, or confident, or fearless; I'm a hero, and I've sworn to protect people! It's a vow I've written on my heart and one I'll die to keep! You want to know what chivalry means to me? Living a life with no regrets!"

It was only when his tears splashed onto the back of his clenched hands that Kirishima realized he was crying.

Crimson Riot was afraid. He had always been afraid, and yet, despite that fear, he still stood up to dangerous villains the likes of which Kirishima couldn't even imagine. All because he'd failed to save someone once.

He'd failed too, except, he'd been lucky enough for Ashido to show up. Shabana was alive because of her, but if she hadn't stepped in... Shabana would have died.

And it would have been his fault!

Next time, he knew he wouldn't be so lucky, and Kirishima refused to be in that situation again! The idea of getting killed while fighting a villain was terrifying, but that look on Shabana's face had been so much worse! He'd take Crimson Riot's words to heart, and next time, if someone was in trouble, he'd rush in and save them no matter how scared he was!

He'd made up his mind. With a determined glare, Kirishima grabbed his pencil and, in the first box on his survey form, wrote down UA High School once more.

He would become a hero! He'd save people with a smile, even if it killed him! He wouldn't stand on the sidelines and watch people die, and he wouldn't let himself regret it! Never again!


Kirishima found Shabana at her locker the next morning. For once, he'd managed to arrive at school ahead of her, so he'd had to wait a bit for her to show up. As soon as he saw her, he could feel his heart lodge in his throat. He took a moment to calm his nerves and then forced himself forward, step by step, placing one foot in front of the other.

Then, abruptly, he froze.

When she'd finished putting on her indoor shoes, Shabana had reached up to shut her locker, which, for just a moment, had caused the sleeve of her blouse to slip ever so slightly.

It was more than enough to spot the large, ugly, painful-looking bruise on her upper arm.

The brief glimpse alone was enough to make his stomach twist.

Kirishima wasn't sure why he was so shocked. He'd know that she'd been hurt, but not how badly. Maybe it was because seeing the damage with his own eyes just made it all the more real. The worst part was that it was only a single bruise. He could only imagine what the rest of her looked like beneath her uniform. It was subtle, but whenever Shabana moved in a certain way, her face would scrunch up with pain. Her entire body was probably bruised black and blue; anything except for the slightest movements probably just made the pain worse.

It made him feel guilty. If he had moved earlier, maybe she wouldn't have gotten hurt at all, but there wasn't any point in thinking that way. What was done was done; he just had to make sure to make up for it next time. He pushed his guilt down and steeled himself for what he was about to do.

"Shabana!" he called.

When Shabana turned around, for just a moment, the look on her face was one of innocent curiosity, or maybe confusion. With her long lashes framing her bright, lime-green eyes and her lips settled into something resembling a pout, she even looked cute.

The look was gone the moment her gaze landed on him, the glint of innocence in her eyes turning into something murderous. Her lips peeled back into a snarl, revealing her large, sharp fangs. Kirishima felt a shiver run down his spine, but he refused to back out now. He swallowed his fear, bent at the waist, and bowed.

"I'm sorry!" he said loudly, almost to the point of shouting. "Yesterday, I… I saw that guy threatening you, and I panicked. I was too scared to move. You ended up getting hurt when I could've done something to help, so... Please, forgive me," he finished softly.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Given how she'd reacted to Ashido stepping in to help her, Kirishima had had an idea of what to expect from Shabana after he'd apologized. He hadn't been completely sure what she'd say—probably something hurtful or dismissive—but the sudden silence had been the last thing he'd expected. If anything, it just made him even more nervous.

With a bead of sweat trailing down his brow, Kirishima slowly raised his head, just enough to catch a glimpse of her through his bangs to get an idea of what she was thinking.

As soon as his eyes met hers, Kirishima felt his heart freeze.

Before, he'd thought the look on her face had been murderous. It couldn't even compare to the way she was looking at him now. He'd expected her to be angry.

He hadn't expected her to be calm.

At a glance, he really would have thought she was exactly that—calm. Her brow wasn't furrowed, her lips weren't bent into a frown or peeled back into a snarl; as far as he could tell, there wasn't any tension in her face to indicate otherwise.

It was her eyes that gave her away.

They were blown wide; her slit pupils were razor thin. Her glare was more intense than anything else he'd felt up to that point, pinning him in place. It felt like, in that moment, all of her hatred and all of her fury, it was all focused on him and him alone.

It was suffocating.

The rest of her face followed soon after, so great was her rage that her eyes alone couldn't hope to convey it. Her glare intensified as her brow furrowed, her jaw clenched, and her lips twisted into a vicious snarl. He even thought he saw a vein bulge in the corner of her forehead.

And then it was gone, a look of annoyed exhaustion suddenly in its place. She stared down at him for a moment longer, then, she let out a tired, dismissive huff before she walked away without even sparing him a second glance.

He failed to notice the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes.

It was only when she started down the hall that Kirishima felt like he could breathe again.

He straightened up with a gasp, his head twisting in the direction Shabana had just left. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were wide with shock. Idly, he placed a heart over his chest, noting the rapid beat of his pounding heart.

'What... What was that?'

He didn't have an answer.

He was only dimly aware of the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind; it was only when a hand gently shook his shoulder that he snapped out of it.

"You okay, Kirishima?"

It caught him off guard, and he yelped softly. He turned quickly, only to come face to face with Ashido's golden eyes. They looked concerned, worried even.

'Just like yesterday,' he noted idly. "Uh, yeah," he eventually said. "Sorry, Ashido. You startled me..."

Mina stayed quiet as she looked him up and down. He wasn't sure what she was looking for, but regardless of whether she found it or not, she soon relaxed, a soft smile coming to her face that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Glad to hear it," she said, and the cheer in her voice was convincing enough. "I was just worried. For a second there, I thought she was going to hurt you or something. Why'd you even apologize to her anyway?"

Kirishima blinked dumbly. "Wait a second, you saw that?"

She snorted softly, the smile on her face becoming a bit more genuine. "You're seriously asking me that? Of course I did; you weren't exactly being subtle, you know."

"Huh?"

This time, she giggled. "Look over there," she said with a thumb thrown over her shoulder.

Kirishima looked over, and sure enough, several other students were staring at him out of the corners of their eyes, trying and failing to be subtle. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Oh," he mumbled. In hindsight, he probably could've been a little quieter.

"Hey, don't get all embarrassed all of a sudden," she said brightly. Though the grin on her face was teasing, her words were genuine. "You were super cool out there!"

Abashed, Kirishima raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "You really think so?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it!" She frowned. "But I still don't get why you did it."

"Well, it's just... I felt like I owed it to her, you know? She got hurt yesterday 'cause I was too scared to help."

Her eyes widened. "You... really mean that," she noted, something like awe in her tone.

Kirishima nodded. "I just wish I had done something; maybe then she wouldn't have gotten hurt. Even if she's cruel, she didn't deserve what happened to her." He clenched his fist, and his eyes hardened. "I won't just stand and watch next time."

For several seconds, she simply stared at him, as if she was seeing him in a new light. Then she smiled. "My friends were right," she said. "You really would make an amazing hero."

Kirishima froze, and his jaw dropped. "Seriously?"

Ashido just laughed. "You're gonna make a girl repeat herself? I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. You really shouldn't doubt yourself so much; the fact that you wanted to step in to help her regardless of how you felt about her speaks volumes of your character. And sure, you were scared, but there's nothing wrong with that. Heck, I was scared, too! All you have to do is work on yourself for a bit; give it your all, and before long, you'll be able to do anything."

"That... means a lot, Ashido," he said quietly, genuinely touched. "Thanks..."

She shot him a sad smile. "You're welcome," she said. "So, I take it you're gonna apply to one of the hero schools, right? Got one in mind?"

Kirishima nodded.

"Oh! Which one?" she asked excitedly. "Ketsubutsu, maybe?"

Wordlessly, he reached for the folded survey form he'd been keeping in his back pocket and handed it to Ashido, who eagerly took it with her grabby hands. She unfolded it and excitedly scanned the page. When she saw what he'd written, she gasped. "Oh my god, no way!" she all but shrieked. "You're applying to UA!"

"It's the only one for me," he said, his tone resolute. "What about you?"

"Are you kidding?! I'm applying there too!"

"You're kidding..."

Ashido just laughed. "Nope! I hope we both manage to get in! That'd be amazing!" She gasped. "Oh, imagine we end up in the same class!"

Suddenly, Kirishima frowned. "Y-Yeah," he said shakily. "It's just... UA is the top hero school in Japan; not just anyone can get accepted. I don't... I don't know if I've got what it takes..."

Ashido hummed with a hand raised to her chin. Suddenly, she smiled, sly and mischievous. "I think I can help you with that."

"Wait, what?" he asked, puzzled. "How?"

"You'll see!" she giggled. "Listen, meet me by the school gate when classes let out for the day, alright? There's something I wanna show you!"

"Uh... Okay," he eventually said. "Why not?"

"That's the spirit!" Ashido cheered, her fist raised into the air. "See you after school, then!" she said, before she turned and ran off with a spring in her step.

When she was gone, Kirishima turned and started down the hall. Given the time, he should probably get to class as well.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder what she had planned.


Kirishima hadn't wasted any time meeting up with Ashido. As soon as classes had ended, he'd grabbed his things and all but booked it down the hall towards his locker before making his way outside.

He wasn't surprised to find Ashido already waiting for him.

Her expression lit up as soon as she saw him. "Hey, Kirishima! Over here!" she called, waving her arm. With a wide smile of his own on his face, he ran up to her.

Kirishima let out a breath as he came to a stop. "You're... way too fast," he said.

"Or maybe you're just slow, you slowpoke," she said.

"Hey!" he cried with mock anger. "Don't call me slow; I ran all the way here!"

Ahsido snickered. "I'm sorry, I'm just teasing!" she said with a grin. "So, anyway, you ready to go?"

"Wait, what?" he asked, confused. "Go where?"

"I'll show you!" she said with a mischievous giggle. "Come on! It's not far!" Her hand wrapped around his wrist before he could even blink, and before he knew it, he was being pulled along. It was so sudden that he almost tripped over his own feet.

"Huh? Whoa— Hey, wait!"

Oddly, he felt like he shouldn't have been surprised when she ignored him and just kept running. Quick as a flash, Mina dragged him off campus with a Cheshire grin on her face, forcing him to match her frankly ridiculous pace if he didn't want to fall. He had a feeling she would have just kept on dragging him if he had.

"Could you at least slow down?!" he cried.

Mina just laughed. "Slowpoke," she teased in a sing-song voice.

He couldn't really tell where she was taking him; he was too busy putting one foot in front of the other as Mina weaved through groups of people to pay attention to his surroundings. Eventually, she must have taken pity on him, because after a while, she slowed down enough for him to catch his breath, which he did eagerly. Mina, on the other hand, barely looked winded.

"H-Hey," he wheezed. "How aren't you... even a little tired?"

"Huh? Oh! I dance!" she said proudly.

"You... dance?"

"Uh-huh!" she said with a nod. "I started taking classes when I was little. It's fun, but it's also pretty physically demanding, so it helps me stay in shape."

Well, that was good to know.

"Oh, by the way, quick question," Ashido spoke up suddenly. "You are up to date on your tetanus shots, right?"

Kirishima blinked at the odd question. "Y-Yeah," he said, though it came out a bit uncertain. "Why'd you... ask?"

"No reason," she chirped brightly.

He resisted the urge to groan. "Can you at least... tell me where you're taking me?"

"Nope! That'd ruin the surprise!"

This time, he did groan. "Really...?"

"Oh, quit your worrying!" Mina snickered. "We're almost there; it's just around the corner!"

Thankfully, due to the slower pace, Kirishima was able to keep up with her for the rest of the run, which didn't last too much longer; Ashido hadn't lied when she'd said wherever she was taking him wasn't too far.

"Here we are!" she finally announced as they came to a stop. Ashido let go of his wrist, and Kirishima just barely managed to keep himself on his feet, slumping over his knees as he fought to fill his lungs with air.

Ashido had the decency to look sheepish. "I guess I really tired you out, huh? Sorry," she said with a light laugh.

"No," he wheezed. "It's... It's fine... Just... not used to running... so much."

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked when he let out a particularly harsh cough.

"I'll be fine. Just... gimme a second."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Take your time."

When it felt like his lungs weren't trying to kill him anymore, Kirishima raised his head. Before him stood a slightly rusty chain-link fence. It looked like the fence's wire mesh had come loose in places, or had even been cut through, resulting in a bunch of holes, some of them big enough that someone could have probably squeezed through them if they wanted to.

But, more than anything else, it was what lay on the other side of the fence that caught his attention, that being piles upon piles of junk.

Upon seeing the look of bewilderment on his face, Mina spread her arms wide. "Ta-da!" she cried triumphantly. She even looked proud.

"You... brought me to a junkyard?"

The junk inside was in a similar state to the fence surrounding it. Most of it was pretty trashed and covered in rust, probably only good for spare parts. Although, some of it even looked to be in surprisingly good shape.

Still, the thought of all that rust made him wince. 'I guess I know why she asked if I was up to date on my shots now.'

"Sure did," Mina said brightly. "Surprised?"

"I'd be lying if I said no." He walked over to the fence and leaned against it, peering inside. "Why'd you bring me here of all places?"

"I'll show you inside!" she said. "Come on!" Without further ado, she walked up to one of the larger holes in the fence and slipped through. "Oh, and mind the wire; you don't wanna cut yourself."

Kirishima frowned but followed after her, making sure to harden parts of his body as he climbed through. Thankfully, he didn't have much trouble. "Are we even allowed to be here?" he asked warily.

Mina grinned. "Probably not!" she said bluntly.

He was caught so off guard that he accidentally slipped on an empty soda can and just barely managed to keep himself from faceplanting. "Ashido!" he cried, indignant. "This isn't manly at all—we could get in serious trouble!"

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not a man, then!" she cheered with a laugh, which left Kirishima sputtering. "Okay, but seriously, we won't get caught. As far as I can tell, this place is closed. Nobody ever comes here."

Kirishima frowned. "If you're sure," he eventually said.

"Awesome! Now, come on! This way, slowpoke!"

"For the record, I still don't think this is a good idea! And stop calling me that!"

Despite her enthusiasm, Ashido was still mindful enough to exhibit some caution as they waded through the piles of junk; the last thing either of them wanted was to trip and cut themselves on a piece of glass or a rusty knife. Kirishima didn't even want to think about accidentally knocking over one of the piles. They didn't look that unstable, but still, better safe than sorry.

"Oh, we're here!" Ashido said suddenly.

Kirishima followed as Ashido stepped into a mostly clear area, though there were a couple things scattered around. Interestingly enough, most of it was gym equipment, and it was all in pretty good condition too, as far as he could tell. He could see a punching bag, a bunch of dumbells, even a barbell and a few weights to go with it, and a few other things.

"Ashido, is... Is this where you train?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," she said teasingly. "I had to train somewhere."

"But... Here?" he asked, flabbergasted. "You're training in the middle of a junkyard. Why?"

"Well, for one, this place is free," she said, and she was so blunt about it that Kirishima couldn't help but gape. "There were a few other places I could have gone, like, say, Dagobah Beach, which also has a bunch of trash I could've used to train, but this place is closer. And it also doesn't smell like a sewer, so that's a plus."

Kirishima grimaced. If he remembered right, he'd seen something on the news a while back about Dagobah Beach turning into an illegal dumping ground, but he hadn't paid it much mind at the time. "Is it that bad?"

Ashido shuddered. "Oh yeah. Don't get me wrong, this place doesn't smell too great either, but you can get used to it after a while. Dagobah Beach has straight-up garbage, and the fact that it's literally right next to the ocean just makes the smell worse. You know that rotten egg smell a lot of trash has? Think of that mixed with salt and rotting fish, and that's Dagobah."

His nose scrunched up at the thought alone. "Ew."

"I know, right?"

"Alright, that's fair," he said, "but still, why not just go to the gym or some other fitness center? You'd need to pay for a membership but it's not like you can't afford one, right?"

"Well, I mean, I can," she said. "I just don't wanna, and I have a few reasons for that. The first is that, I'm all alone here, which means I don't have to worry about getting stared at by pervy guys when I'm just minding my own business."

"That's so unmanly!" he cried, horrified. "And also super gross! Who would do something like that?"

"Tell me about it," she said with a sigh. "It's a bummer, too, 'cause most of the guys I ran into were actually super cool, but having it happen once was enough to put me off."

"I guess that's fair," he said with a sigh. "What about your other reasons?"

"Oh, right! First, though, I wanna ask you something. I think I know what your Quirk is—something to do with hardening your skin or something, right?—but I'm curious if you know mine," she said, her eyes narrowed with interest.

Kirishima held up a hand and activated his Quirk, the skin and flesh of his arm turning jagged and rock-like. "You're basically spot on," he said with a grin. "But it's not just my skin—any part of my body is fair game for my Quirk. I don't know what your Quirk is, though; I've never seen you use it."

She shrugged. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised considering we're both in different classes. Well, why don't I just show you?"

"Alright, sure. Go for it."

She blinked. "Huh. I thought you'd tell me not to, since, you know, public Quirk use is illegal and everything."

He shot her an unamused glare. "And trespassing isn't?"

Mina giggled. "Point! Alright, then; here goes!"

She held out a hand and activated her Quirk. Kirishima watched as a thick, grayish liquid secreted from her palm. After a few seconds, she turned and slung the handful at a wrecked car at the base of one of the junk piles. As soon as the liquid made contact, the door began to dissolve with a loud sizzling noise. In seconds, the liquid had eaten through, leaving a gaping hole where a door had once been.

"Whoa!" Kirishima jumped back, his eyes blown wide.

"Pretty cool, huh?" she asked with a grin.

It took him a second to find his voice. "Y-Yeah," he said shakily, terrified and awed in equal measure.

If anything, the grin on her face only seemed to widen. "My Quirk, Acid, basically just lets me, well, literally make acid. I know, the name's super uncreative, but at least it's accurate!"

"T-That's… That's amazing, Ashido," Kirishima said honestly.

"I know, right?!" she cheered, but then her expression grew serious. "My Quirk gives me a decent amount of options. For one, I can decide how corrosive I want the acid I make to be—among other things, like adjusting its solubility and viscosity—but my Quirk's downside is that it's really hard to control, and that can make it pretty dangerous, too."

"Oh, so that's why you train here," he realized. "It's so you can practice your control on all the junk here without having to worry about hurting someone if you screw up."

"Pretty much," Mina chirped. "Well, that, and I don't wanna accidentally melt a hole through some gym equipment again." She pouted and kicked at the ground sulkily. "Costs too much money," she mumbled.

"Wait, again?"

Mina froze in place and yelped. "Oh, shoot..." It looked like she hadn't meant to say that. "Okay, so... I, uh... might have accidentally lost control of my Quirk and melted a piece of equipment once," she said with a nervous chuckle.

"Did you get kicked out?"

Ashido deflated, not unlike a balloon. "...Yeah," she said with a sigh. "The gym manager was... pretty mad about it, too."

"I can see why," he said dryly. "But, why'd you bring me here?"

"Oh, whoops!" she snickered. "Sorry, got sidetracked. It's just when I found out you were also planning on applying to UA, I had an idea. Since we're both gonna have to prepare for the entrance exams anyway, why not do it together?"

Kirishima blinked. "You wanna train together?"

"Yeah!" she said with a grin. "We'd probably make more progress as a duo than we ever could on our own. We can bounce ideas off of each other, help each other with our weaknesses, and we could even spar!" Suddenly, she grew sheepish, an embarrassed blush on her cheeks. "And I'd really appreciate it if you could help me out with studying..."

"So is that one of your weaknesses, then?"

"Maybe...?"

Kirishima sighed and thought it over for a moment. Honestly, it was a good idea, and he couldn't see any reason why he'd want to turn her offer down. So, he accepted. "Alright," he said. "I look forward to training with you!" Before Ashido could leap into the air with a cheer, he continued. "Just a heads up, I'm not the best at studying either.

"Then we'll help each other!" she said dismissively. "So, you down to help me figure out a schedule?"

He grinned. "Let's do this!"


"Hey, big brother, why are we out here again?"

As soon as he'd gotten back from work, her brother had all but dragged her out of the house. Couldn't they have done this some other time? She just wanted to go home; it was cold and dark, and she was hungry and tired, but still, she silently followed behind him because her big brother knew best.

Her brother glanced over his shoulder with a sigh. "You'll find out in a minute," he said with that croaky voice of his. "Come on, we're almost there."

Ume pouted but said nothing more. To his credit, they didn't have to walk for too much longer before her brother stopped. She looked around curiously; they were in a courtyard of sorts not too far from their home, surrounded by decrepit—and probably abandoned—buildings. As far as she could tell, there was no one else around.

Finally, her brother turned around, allowing her to take in his features. The thing that always caught her eye the most were the ugly, black marks all over his face. His teeth were also pretty crooked, and his black hair was always messy and unwashed. The only thing about him she could even begin to call pretty were his eyes, which were a striking blue, just like her own.

But she didn't care what he looked like—he was still her big brother, and she'd love him no matter what.

With a breath, her brother finally spoke. "You're old enough now, so I think it's time I teach you how to defend yourself."

Ume blinked and made a confused sound. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this. "Why would I need to learn how to do that when you're always there to keep me safe?"

Her brother merely shook his head with a sigh, his calloused hand coming to rest on top of her head. "I'm not always going to be around, Ume," he said softly. "You'll probably get recruited by one of the Houses sooner or later, and once that happens, we're only going to spend more time apart. I'll always do my best to keep you safe, Ume, but you need to be able to take care of yourself if something happens while I'm gone."

She didn't like it, but what her brother said made sense. "Okay," she said with a nod.

Her brother smiled, showing off his crooked teeth. "Good girl," he praised her, which put a smile of her own on her face. He backed up a little, and his expression turned serious again. "Ume, I want you to promise me something."

Confused, she gave her brother a nod.

"If something does happen, the first thing I want you to do is to try and run. Run as fast as you can, and don't look back. Try and find me if you can. If you can't get away, then hide, and don't come out until it's safe. If you do end up fighting, I want you to fight with everything you have—claw at the eyes, bite at the fingers, pull at the hair—don't hold anything back, but only fight in the first place if there's nothing else you can do. Understand?"

Again, she gave her brother a nod. "Of course," she said, and she made sure to keep her voice from wavering. She wouldn't lie to herself and say that what her brother was saying didn't make her nervous, but she knew how important it was, so she did her best to push the fear aside.

Then, and only then, did her brother let out a relieved sigh.

"Right," her brother said as he straightened up. "Let's start, then. First, I want you to make a fist."

With a small frown, she did as he asked before she held it up for her brother to see.

"Not like that," he said with an amused grin. "You'll break your thumb if you try and punch like that. Here, try again, but this time, tuck your thumb below your fingers…"

The next several minutes were spent teaching her the basics. It was a little embarrassing—she didn't get a single thing right on the first try—but every time she made a mistake, her brother would just calmly point it out and then help her correct it. Before long, she knew how to make a proper fist, where to put her feet, and how to throw a punch; only then did they move on.

"Okay, we're going to try something a little different now." Her brother got into a stance of his own and raised his hand, the palm facing forward. "Try throwing a punch."

Ume froze as soon as she realized what he wanted, a startled squeak leaving her mouth. "What?! I can't do that!" she cried. "I'll hurt you!" Despite being older than her, Ume nearly matched him in height. Not to mention, he was just so thin and frail. Sometimes, she couldn't help but think that a strong gust of wind would blow him over—how could he ask her to do something like that?!

To her chagrin, her brother just snickered. "This isn't funny!" she shouted with a pout.

"Oh, Ume," her brother said as he wiped away a tear. "I know that I don't look that strong, but I promise you, I'm tougher than I look. Just give it a try, okay?"

It took her a moment to gather her courage, but when she did, she hesitantly threw a punch, which smacked against her brother's hand with a light slapping sound. His hand didn't even move.

"Not bad," he said. "Do it again, but this time, make sure you put a little more strength into it."

She struck again, quicker and with more power this time. Her brother's hand budged just a little.

"Good," he praised. "One more time!"

With a breath and a shout, she slammed her fist into her brother's raised hand; it budged just a little further this time. When he lowered it, she could see the smile on his face as clear as day.

"Good job, Ume," he said proudly. His hand came up and gently caressed the top of her head. "You're my pride and joy, you know?"

Ume beamed. The look on her face made Gyutaro chuckle. "Alright, let's keep going for a little longer. We'll head home right after, okay?"

"Right!"

The bittersweet memory washed over her as Ume's fists crashed into the punching bag again and again, each swing fueled by all the strength she could muster. She felt hot; sweat poured down her brow and her breaths came out in labored gasps, but no matter how tired she felt, she knew she had to keep going. But as her exhaustion grew, the precision and power of her strikes lessened. Before long, she was shaking, her limbs burning from the exertion, barely able to raise her fists.

Still, she tried for one last punch, but as she flung her fist, her exhaustion made her stumble, and she missed, her knuckles only scrapping against the punching bag's side. Ume hit the ground hard; pain flared up along her side. She hissed, her lips twisting into a scowl as she made to climb to her feet, but as she tried to push herself up, her arm gave out from under her.

Ume growled and gritted her teeth. Again, she tried to stand, and again, her body failed her. Tears of frustration gathered in the corners of her eyes as she rolled onto her back, breathing heavily, unable to do anything save for staring up at the ceiling. She was simply too exhausted.

A choked sob slipped past her lips as the tears building in her eyes spilled over and trickled down her cheeks. 'Some pride and joy I turned out to be...' she thought bitterly.

Honestly, she wasn't sure why she was even surprised. She'd always been worthless; even as a demon, she'd been pathetically weak. She was just a little failure, a useless fuck-up that always screwed up no matter what she tried.

She couldn't even punch right. A little bit of exercise was all it took to knock her on her ass. If that wasn't pathetic, she didn't know what was.

And she'd actually thought she'd been strong before? What a fucking joke! If she'd been as strong as she'd believed she was, she wouldn't have gotten caught by that villain in the first place! She wouldn't have gotten hurt; she would have easily been able to save herself!

She never would have needed someone to save her at all!

And didn't that just sting? Loathe as she was to admit to it, Ume had needed Ashido's help. She knew that deep down, even if she'd never say it aloud. If Ashido hadn't stepped in to save her that day, she would have died a second time.

The thought alone was enough to make her blood boil.

For weeks now, she just hadn't been able to get it out of her mind. Whenever she closed her eyes, all Ume could see was that bitch of a girl smiling down at her with an outstretched hand, all whilst she'd been on her hands and knees with bile creeping up her throat and saliva dribbling down her chin. Even now, the hate and shame Ashido had made her feel hadn't even begun to fade away. She wondered if it ever would.

For Mina Ashido, saying she hated her wouldn't have been quite right. Hate was too soft of a word. It couldn't properly convey the pure, unbridled rage she felt towards the girl. No, Ume didn't hate her. She utterly despised her. She despised her for looking down on her, for thinking she was just a helpless victim, for daring to presume she'd ever wanted or even needed her worthless help!

Likewise, that shark-toothed idiot held a special place in her heart. She loathed him all the same, just because he'd dared to stand in her way when she'd tried to show Ashido her place. And if that wasn't enough, he'd even had the gall to apologize to her! For failing to save her from the villain! As if he would've been able to do anything in the first place—he was just a revolting little insect; she could have crushed him like one, too! He wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing to stop her from doing so—that's how useless he was!

Both of them were nothing—less than nothing! Just worthless wastes of space that were better off dead!

And yet, if Ashido hadn't stepped in to save her, Ume really would have died. That's just how pathetic she was.

As it turned out, whether she was human or not didn't matter in the slightest; when push came to shove, Ume would always be too weak to save herself, regardless of the situation she found herself in.

How many times had Gyutaro saved her? How many times had he reattached her severed head for her? She couldn't remember...

Her brother had always been so strong. If it hadn't been for the special connection she'd shared with him, Ume would have died dozens of times over; she'd gotten her neck severed more times than she could count, whereas Gyutaro had only ever been beheaded once. She'd only ever gotten as strong as she had thanks to him; he'd kept her alive long enough for her to reach the Upper Ranks.

He'd stuck by her side for over a century, and she'd been so grateful for it that she'd spat in his face right before they'd died. What a way to show gratitude, huh?

Slowly, Ume sat up and crossed her legs, her hands falling into her lap.

She sighed softly. What would he say, she wondered, if he could see her now?

Who was she kidding? She knew exactly what he'd say.

She could imagine it perfectly. He'd stand over her, his teeth bared in a sneer with hate shining in his eyes. His rant would begin with a croaky whisper, and then, it'd slowly turn into a roar as his faux calm was thrown out in the place of blinding rage.

"You've gotta be kidding... I always knew you were a helpless weakling, but I never could've imagined you'd end up like this. You can't even stand on your own two feet after a little bit of exercise! Just how pathetic are you? Can't you do anything right? Of course you can't, you're just a worthless meat-sack with a pretty face, and that's all you'll ever be; a disgrace who'll never amount to anything no matter how hard she tries! Why don't you just drop dead?! And in the most agonizing way at that! How about you wrap a rope around your neck, or maybe you could slit that belly of yours open? Why don't you tie a lead weight around your feet and throw yourself into the sea?! Living a fulfilling life is the last thing you deserve, so go ahead and throw it all away! You should have never been born in the first place, so it shouldn't even matter—just die already!"

She couldn't help it; Ume began to shake, something akin to panic welling up inside her.

What the hell was wrong with her? It wasn't even real, her brother was dead for crying out loud! It was just her imagination! So why did it make her feel so small?

Why did the mere thought of him screaming at her make her feel so scared?

"Excuse me, miss?" The sudden voice startled her, and she flinched. "Are you alright?"

Ume glanced up, her teary eyes wide with panic. She forced herself to relax when she saw it was just a plain old, hideous young man. If she hadn't been as tired as she was, she might have attacked him on accident, but as it was, she was so sluggish she could barely move. "I'm... I'm fine," she forced out.

What remained of her self-control snapped when the idiot kept pushing.

"Are you sure? It's just—"

"Fuck off!" she finally screamed. "I said I'm fine, so get the hell away from me!"

The guy shrunk back at her glare, his hands held up placatingly in front of him as he began to back away. As soon as he was gone, Ume sagged, her head promptly falling into her awaiting hands as she struggled to get her breathing under control. Eventually, she succeeded, her thunderous heartbeat slowing as well.

Ume sucked in one last deep breath before she let out a quiet whimper.

All she wanted was to be strong enough to handle things on her own for once. She didn't want to be so weak that people always had to save her anymore. Was that really so much to ask? And she'd wanted to become a hero, too. How had she ever thought she'd be able to save people when she couldn't even save herself?

Ume let out a bitter laugh. What was the point of any of this? She'd never become a hero—not when she was so weak—and if she couldn't become a hero, she'd never be able to repay her mother for everything she's done. Instead of living the comfortable life that Ume knew she deserved, her mother would work herself into an early grave, just to provide for her stupid, useless daughter who hadn't done a thing to deserve it.

And it would all be Ume's fault.

She'd failed to achieve her goal before she'd even truly begun.

The only thing that made it more painful was the knowledge that her mother would forgive her. Ume would be a failure of a daughter, and her mother would love her anyway. Ume just couldn't understand it. How could anyone love someone as pathetic as her?

Maybe her brother was right. Maybe she really should just drop dead. Maybe she should just end it all. If nothing else, it'd save her mother the trouble of caring for someone as worthless as her. She wouldn't have to work so hard, she wouldn't have to spend so much money, and maybe, she'd even be able to get a good night's sleep for once without Ume waking her up in the middle of the night.

If she didn't know it'd break her mother's heart beyond repair, Ume might have even done it, too. But she wouldn't. She loved her mother too much to inflict that kind of pain on her—the pain of a mother learning that her child had committed suicide.

Ume let out an exhausted sigh. Her eyes were still wet, but... she just didn't feel like crying anymore. She didn't really feel like doing anything, to be honest.

She just felt so tired...


Hatred was an emotion Ume was intimately familiar with, one she had grown to know over the course of two separate lifetimes. It was ever present, quietly simmering in the depths of her soul.

There were so many things Ume hated, the most prominent of which were people.

Ume hated all kinds of people. She hated the stupid, yet those with an intellect that eclipsed her own earned an equal amount of her ire. She hated the weak and helpless, yet those with power surpassing her own she loathed and resented. She hated those inferior to her, yet she felt an equal, if not greater, hatred for those better than her simply because they dared to be better.

'Jealousy,' her traitorous mind would whisper. 'For they are what you can never hope to be.'

It was hideous people she abhorred most of all, for whom she reserved a special kind of contempt.

And yet, there were also those whom Ume felt a more... personal hatred towards, both in this life and her first.

Ume could remember the day she'd first felt pure, utter fury with startling clarity. She could remember a tall, strong, and handsome young man, one with dark, piercing eyes and raven black hair. He'd been a samurai, a client, and one day, perhaps he may have even been her husband.

That dream had died the very second her brother's name had passed his lips. Any love she may have had had been replaced with an all-consuming rage she'd never before felt.

Stabbing out his eye with the very hairpin he'd gifted her had been cathartic.

She couldn't even remember his name.

He'd only been the first. Dozens, hundreds, perhaps even thousands had followed, most of which she had long forgotten, but there were a select few she never would.

There were six that truly stood out to her; four from her first life and two from her second.

The former four were demon slayers.

A cross-dressing freak, a boar-headed savage, a boy with a scar, and an obnoxious Hashira. Ume hated them with the entirety of her being for various reasons—they were ugly, weak, beyond pathetic—but one simple reason stood heads and shoulders above the rest.

They'd taken her brother away from her.

The latter two were just children; a black-haired, red-eyed idiot with a mouth full of shark teeth whose name she hadn't even bothered to learn, and a pink-skinned, golden-eyed bitch with a pair of pale yellow horns named Mina Ashido. They'd looked down on her, thought her helpless like some weakling, and so she despised them like no other.

And yet, for as much as she hated them all, none of it even came close to the sheer magnitude of the hatred Ume felt for herself.

The sun had long since set by the time she finally made it home. Though she knew they were there, the stars lay dormant in the night sky, leaving it little more than a pitch-black void, only the moon shining from above filling it with some semblance of light. It was surprisingly quiet out, too. All she had for company were the deprecating thoughts inside her head.

They were so loud.

As it was, Ume could barely stand. On the walk home, she'd swayed with every step and her legs had trembled all the while. She ached all over—from the top of her head to the tips of her toes—and her red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes only barely held themselves open. Her appearance only reflected how terrible she felt; at the moment, her hair, usually silky, soft, and as white as freshly fallen snow, was messily strewn about, having been lazily tied back in a low ponytail, damply sticking in clumps to her neck and back. Her face was red, and her cheeks were streaked by sweat and tears alike. Even her clothes were disheveled, having been thrown on without care as she'd changed out of her gym clothes, leaving them heavily wrinkled.

She wasn't quite sure how much time she'd spent training—if you could even call it that—just that it'd been early afternoon when she'd gone in and that it was night when she'd left. For most, that would've been far too much time. For Ume, it wasn't nearly enough. She could have done more, she knew; she should have done more.

'Why didn't you do more?'

Ume took a moment to rummage around for her keys before she unlocked the front door, which opened with a soft click. She stumbled inside as quietly as she could, desperate to keep from making any noise loud enough to wake her sleeping mother.

'All you ever do is scream and cry. Just be quiet for once.'

When the door shut behind her with barely any noise, Ume let out a silent sigh of relief; her shoes came off, and she placed them on the nearby shoe rack, right next to her mother's.

It took several seconds for her addled brain to realize that, aside from her own, the shoe rack was empty.

Ume blinked, at first uncomprehending, before a hint of confusion filled her. It was swiftly followed by surprise, and then by worry. She flicked the light switch just to be sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, and sure enough, her mother's shoes were gone.

With a sinking feeling in her gut, Ume turned and left the foyer, heading towards the living room, her bag full of sweaty gym clothes left forgotten. Again, she flicked the lights on and took a look around. As far as she could tell, everything was in its proper place. There shouldn't have been anything wrong. Nothing had been moved since Ume had left for school that day.

It was only then that she was hit with the painful realization.

With her worry abated, replaced by a deep sorrow, Ume quietly made her way down the hallway toward her mother's room. When she reached for the door handle, she found herself hesitating, her eyes squeezing shut when she felt them start to sting. After several seconds, Ume let out a sharp breath, steeled herself, and tore the door open.

She'd thought she didn't have any more tears to shed, but as the familiar sting turned to a burn, her vision blurred, and the tears building behind her eyes spilled over, trailing down her cheeks and dripping onto the floor with quiet taps.

Absently, she reached for her phone, her gaze lazily falling onto a notification from several hours ago, sent when she'd still been at the gym.

It was a text message from her mother. Ume just... hadn't seen it until now.

"Hi, sweetie!" it read. "I just wanted to let you know that I'll be working late again tonight. I don't know when I'll get home, so don't wait for me. Make yourself some dinner, or order out if you want, and then go to bed, alright? I love you!" There were even a handful of heart emojis at the end.

Ume let her hand drop, her gaze landing on her mother's empty bed, exactly the way it'd been since that very morning.

Her mother hadn't come home again.

With a trembling hand, Ume raised her phone again.

"Okay, mom!" she wrote back. "You don't have to worry, I already ate!" A lie."Make sure you don't work too hard! I love you! Goodnight!" And, of course, a few heart emojis.

She wondered if that seemed cheerful enough.

Once at the foot of her mother's bed, Ume's legs gave out on her, and she collapsed. The mattress creaked under her weight, her head coming to rest against her mother's pillow. For several seconds, it was quiet. Peaceful, even.

And then Ume broke.

Shudders wracked her body as her shoulders heaved, choked gasps slipping through her tightly clenched teeth. Ume curled up as a whine built up in her throat before she pressed her face into her mother's pillow and wept. The pillow did little to muffle her violent sobs or her heartwrenching wails full of pain and sorrow.

If she'd been younger, Ume would have pressed her face against her screen, eagerly waiting for her mother to give her a reply. She knew better now. After all, there wasn't any point to it when her mother, busy as she was, wouldn't even see the text until she came home, let alone text back. She never did.

It happened so often, but no matter how many times her mother came home past midnight—if she even came home at all—it never got any easier to deal with. It tore her heart in two every single time.

Ume understood why her mother always worked so late, she truly did. It was the simple fact that being a single parent was hard. Her mother had to take care of everything—groceries, clothes, bills, rent—and she had to do it all on her own. Deep down, Ume was grateful for it. That her mother was willing to work so hard and long to provide for them both just showed how much she cared. It showed how much she loved her.

That understanding did nothing to quell the sheer misery Ume felt whenever she came home only to find her mother gone. To come home, expecting a warm smile and a loving hug, only to realize you're all alone was a terrible feeling.

This was why she'd wanted to become a hero—Ume just wanted her mother to be able to stop.

No matter how much she pleaded, her mother would never listen, brushing her off with a loving smile. "You don't have to worry about me," her mother always said. "It's just a little extra work. I'll be just fine, Ume." She'd say all of that with a straight face, ignoring the permanent bags beneath her bloodshot eyes.

Her mother always worked so hard. Down to the bone, even. But Ume wasn't like her. Not even close.

Whereas her mother persevered, Ume had given up. The moment she'd felt like she couldn't do it—the moment it'd gotten just a little too hard—she had given up. Her mother should be ashamed of her, but Ume knew she wouldn't be, and that only made her cry harder.

Ume was useless—it'd never been more clear. She was just a spineless little girl who broke down whenever things didn't go her way. On top of it all, she was a weak, stupid, and talentless good-for-nothing who couldn't do anything right.

None of that mattered. She had to push past it all—every single obstacle in her path—because her mother was depending on her. Ume had promised to become a hero, and so that's exactly what she'll do. She'll tear down anything and anyone in her path to see her goal realized.

She wasn't allowed to fail.

For as much as Ume wanted her mother to be able to relax, and to live a long, comfortable, and fulfilling life free of her burdens, there was something Ume wanted more. Beyond accomplishing something on her own merit, and beyond finally earning the love her mother gave so freely, Ume was a selfish little girl who just didn't want to be alone anymore.

She just wanted her mother to come home.


A/N: Again, I hope you guys enjoyed that.

If it wasn't clear already, I'm planning to focus on Ume's interactions with those around as a whole, and not just on Ume herself. Because of that, several other characters, alongside Kirishima and Ashido, are going to have pretty significant roles, so I'll be swapping POVs quite a bit, though Ume will be the main focus.

I'm also a little nervous about Ume having that break down. I really like it, but I have this niggling feeling that it came across as too abrupt or forced. I hope it didn't, but I guess I'll just have to see.

The Entrance Exam should be up next with everything that entails, so long as I don't change anything, but with my brain as wacky as it is, I won't promise anything.

Think that's everything for now. Just like last time: Feedback is appreciated. Lemme know if I suck or not, so I can stop sucking if I do. That said, I'll see you all next time!