Toshinori woke up pretty early, the sun was just coming up, and the first sound to reach his ears was the sweet song of birds chirping. He decided to take that as a good omen. It was just what he needed, he hadn't had all that good of a sleep.

God, he really needed a coffee.

Last night had been, explosive. Katsumi hadn't argued at all with him really since he told her about Midoriya. He guessed he should have expected another argument sooner or later, teenagers after all. Funnily enough, that last argument exploded when he called her Sumi too…

He had known she was a bit of a free spirit, her mother complaining about her always going out and not being able to keep her grounded. That's why he had that tracking app installed, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop her from wandering, not that he wanted to stop her, he just wanted to make sure she was safe.

Katsumi obviously knew that, but he might have come on a little too strong telling her off. He hadn't ever done that before, and he tried to be nice about it, maybe he seemed patronising?

That was the only reason he could think of for how she reacted.

He sighed as he drank his coffee, standing right in front of the coffee maker. He still needed to clean up from last night. After eating he'd realised she was late and got worried, it didn't help when he tried to call her and heard her phone ringing from upstairs.

He called Tsukauchi who assured him it would be fine, that she probably just was hanging out with her friend and forgotten the time but…

Something about the way that man from the USJ attack talked about her… Though he hadn't said it to her, he was worried that he might target her for other reasons other than to get to him. Maybe it was just to anger him but-

'Your daughter might agree with me'

What did Shigaraki know about her? Was it just the arrest or also the problems she had with him? How did he find that out? The idea of the League trying to turn Katsumi against him was quite far-fetched, Katsumi might be a little rough, but she was no villain. Still, he'd rather keep her away from real danger for as long as possible.

He sighed again, placing down the coffee. He turned to where he left the plates but they were gone.

"Huh."

He looked in the dishwasher. The contents were clean, someone had turned it on despite only a couple of things being in there. Was it Katsumi? That was strange. She hadn't come down after storming upstairs.

He went to take another sip of coffee… and missed.

"Agh, damn it…" he muttered, looking down at his shirt. He took a paper towel and made a half-assed attempt to wipe away the coffee from his white shirt. He sighed and went to throw the tissue into the bin.

"Huh," he blinked. He was sure the bin had been full, he remembered making a mental note last night to empty it in the morning. But there, when he opened the lid, it was empty. He threw the tissue in.

It must have been Katsumi, the girl must have gotten up and done it alongside the dishwasher. He chuckled to himself, the poor kid must have felt bad. Oh well, she was a teenager, she was going to say and do some silly things. She felt her freedom was threatened and got defensive. The comment about knocking her mum up was a little funny now he thought about it, it was exactly her type of humour. The idea behind it was a little worrying though. She was the best thing to come out of his relationship with Asami, he wished she knew that.

And he should really just stop calling her that nickname, it was just silly now. A little part of him was hoping that they could go back to the way things were when she was a little girl, but that wasn't going to happen. That was okay, the guilt for the past was better used to fix the present. It was never going to be a straight path, there were going to be a few bumps along the road.

He just hoped that the little surprise he'd arranged would go well, if it did, she would see just how much he cared for her.

"Um, morning."

Toshinori turned around. Katsumi was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, she stared at the floor as she scratched her neck.

"Morning," Toshinori greeted.

Katsumi was silent, avoiding eye contact. She was still in her pyjamas, and her hair looked almost as crazy as his.

"You're up earlier than normal," he chuckled trying to break some of the tension.

"Mhm," she mumbled, crossing her arms, "couldn't sleep."

"Ah, is that so?"

Some birds chirped outside.

"Sorry," Katsumi said, "'bout yesterday. I'll make sure I keep my phone on me from now on."

Toshinori smiled, good omen indeed.

"Oh, don't worry. It was only one time, and I trust you." It was best to move on, "Just humour me with keeping your phone on you won't you?"

Katsumi's lips were pressed together tightly as she nodded, "Yeah. I will. And, sorry for the way I acted… I was immature."

"It's alright," Toshinori replied, "It's part of growing up, arguing with your parents that is. We all learn from our mistakes.

Katsumi snorted, eyebrows jumping up as she continued to stare at the floor. Toshinori cracked a grin.

"Well, you have any plans for the weekend? I'll have to remind you to take your phone."

Katsumi paused, "I was, uh, just gonna train I guess. Here."

"Oh?" It was the last few days before the festival, sure training was important but… "Not gonna see Midoriya?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on it."

"You should!" He didn't want her cooped up worrying. Certainly, one thing she had said last night that was right was that she couldn't live her life in fear. He hoped he hadn't put it in her head that she should. She just needed to be a little cautious.

She needed a detox, the stress about the festival was probably getting to her.

"It will be good for you both to talk about the festival. Maybe get some ice cream, take a walk in the park, just some time to relax. You still have money from your allowance right? I can give you some if you need, yeah I'll give you money for Midoriya too-"

"Dad," Katsumi stopped him, "it's fine you don't have to do that."

Toshinori smiled sheepishly, "Well, I must admit, I feel a little guilty."
Katsumi frowned, "Well, don't. I was totally in the wrong. I'm just gonna work out in the gym today, you?"

"Ah, I gotta go out to the agency," Toshinori sighed, paperwork was waiting. "But how about I pick up some pizza on the way home?"

"That sounds acceptable," Katsumi hummed, a small smile reaching her face.

"Look forward to it!" Her dad told her as he made his way out of the kitchen. He needed to change his shirt. Katsumi laughed.

Her smile faded as her dad was out of her line of sight, eyes drifting to the kitchen counter. She was glad that was cleared up, but… Pursing her lips she walked to the counter, there was no trace of what she did. She'd covered her tracks just fine. She stoked the shiny countertop with her fingers.

She should go get changed.

Workout v3

Dynamic stretches (leg swings, arm circles, hip openers) 5 mins

Jump rope 5 mins

Bodyweight movements 10 mins

Pull-ups 4 sets of 10 reps

Handstands 4 sets 10 reps

Planche progressions 4 sets 25 secs

Rest 10 mins, stretching

Footwork drills 5 mins

Punch combinations 20 mins

Defence combinations 20 mins

Core work 10 mins

Burpees, battle ropes 20 mins

Rest 10 mins

Splits training 10 mins

Backbend and bridges 10 mins

Bag work 15 mins

A good workout cleared the mind and god knows Katsumi needed that. She sat on the mat in her dad's home gym, sipping a water bottle. She set her bottle down and dabbed her forehead with a towel before wiping the sweat from her underarms. Katsumi wouldn't recommend doing it the other way around.

As she rested she pressed the cold water bottle against her forehead. It felt nice. She sat there against the wall just enjoying the sensation.

She was feeling a lot calmer.

"Oh," she remembered, "gotta set the timer…"

Opening her phone she set her ten-minute timer, just a short break before she finished her workout. Then she'd have lunch, and maybe play some games before doing some final quirk training.

Buzz

Notification: Watchvideos: Mirko Daily posted a video- Mirko defeats spike shooting villain interview!

Katsumi grinned, a new Mirko video?

The video entailed a fight between some mid-rate villain and the bunny hero. The woman lept around, landing strong, precise kicks while he struggled, shooting out as many random spikes as he could. His attacks might have hit some civilians if not for Mirko's interference, whacking them off course. The man ended up stumbling and she finished him off with her Luna Arc, a powerful front-facing kick- right into his face!

So. Cool.

Katsumi immediately paused the video and jumped up, phone in hand, and headed straight for the nearest heavy bag. She rewinded the video a couple of seconds, this time really watching Mirko's movements.

It was called an axe-kick right? She was sure that's what the Luna Arc was. Katsumi had taken some Taekwondo lessons back in America but they conflicted with her gymnastics too much, she had boxing anyway.

"Right, let's try this," Katsumi placed down the phone and readied herself. She bounced on the spot for a moment, moving backwards a bit.

She shot forward, swinging her leg up, hitting against the-

"Fuh-!"

Katsumi yelped, her toes hitting the bag awkwardly. She hopped on one foot, clutching the other, whining.

After a minute she recovered, glad no one was around to see that. She watched the video again, firstly, she was hitting a person's head, which gave way of course, unlike a heavy bag made to withstand punches. Secondly, which she couldn't believe she hadn't seen before, was that she was kicking down. That should have been obvious! It was an axe kick, you kicked up then hit the target on the way down, that's why the villain was falling down and back not up and back. If she had only paid a little more attention…

The second time around, Katsumi did the same as before, except this time properly. Bounding forward she shot her leg up and landed a hard, solid hit on the bag on the way down.

"Hmph!" Katsumi nodded, already walking back to attempt it again, and again, and again. She jumped as she landed a kick, she ran close to the ground before leaping up, she armoured her food with metal as she kicked up. The last experiment made it difficult to raise her foot with the speed she had before, but materialising the metal on the way down, right before the impact, now that was good. It made the hit all the harder, the weight aiding her on the slice down as well as hitting the target with a sharp edge.

beep beep beep

Her break was over. Oh well, she wasn't that tired anyway. What was next? Something gymnastics-related right?

She bent down to turn the alarm off, and as soon as she did so, the phone began to buzz again.

Incoming call: Mum

Katsumi immediately let go of the phone, letting it drop onto the mat. She stared down at it, slightly surprised at herself. She was lucky it didn't land on the floor, she'd rather not have to get her screen replaced.

If it was important she'd call her back.

Well, it was time to get back to training… but before she wanted to watch the rest of that video. As she assumed, her mum did not call back, and as soon as the call disappeared she went back to the video.

"Mirko!" The cameraman followed a brown-haired reporter who approached the hero, shoving a microphone in her face, "How you feeling about the prediction of you rising to the number ten spot in the Japanese hero rankings in November?"

"Huh?" Mikro pushed the microphone away, "Doesn't matter- as long as I'm beating lowlifes up I'm satisfied! This one right now was a real weakling! Maybe an increase in rank will get me fighting dudes who aren't total cannon fodder!"

"So cool…" Katsumi muttered. Mirko was exactly who she wanted to be. Damn.

The video ended, and Katsumi got back to her workout. As she did she thought about how she could borrow from Mirko's fighting style, well she had sort of been already. Her focus on kicks was influenced by her, but she hadn't really analysed it all that much. Maybe she'd do that before the festival-

Oh right, she should see Izuku soon, she wouldn't bother him with helping her with analysing Mirko's fighting style, but Dad was right, she should take some time to relax. Mid-split she lent for her phone.

11:43 Katsumi

can we meet at the park tmw?
1ish maybe?

11:46 Izuku

Is that okay?
Aren't you busy?

11:47 Katsumi

if you wanna focus on training thats fine

but my dad said that we should 'de-stress' or whatever

was really persistent in offering to give me money for ice cream

11:47 Izuku

Well, if All Might said so…

11:47 Katsumi

Lol

Katsumi smiled as she put her phone in her waistband. Her stomach grumbled, she might as well just go get some food already. This time she wouldn't force herself to eat too much, something light would be fine, she had a pretty good breakfast.

She was in a pretty good mood as she re-entered the kitchen. She got out the bread, some peanut butter and jelly. An American classic~

Biting into the sandwich without bothering to cut it up, she opened the dishwasher to put away the knife she had used. She frowned when she saw it was all clean, she'd have to put the stuff inside away first… or just leave her stuff out.

Oh well, it was her fault for putting it on. That and making a mess last night. She wondered if her dad had noticed the missing towel yet… There would be a lot of questions if anyone looked in the dustbin outside.

Katsumi's gaze drifted to the window above the sink. She couldn't see her reflection, instead greeted with the view of the garden. It was getting warm again, she should start using the pool.

…She had been on something last night. Totally crazed. Everything felt a hundred times worse than normal. At least her mind felt a lot clearer now, as much as what she did might seem insane, it had worked.

She looked down at the finger of her free hand, and flexed them, humming to herself. Despite her better mood, it wasn't like anything she had thought last night had disappeared. But she could ignore it. It was best left ignored, the festival was soon after all, once she was done eating she should get back to training.

But first, before she forgot it, she wanted to write, even if it wasn't good.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

It's a knife today

My arm's strapped down

There's no getting out

Ten

I do cry

and I beg

Nine

I scream

Eight

I scream again

it's all I can do

Seven

I writhe

it does nothing

H e turns the screen on

Six

taunting me

the smile

why did he leave me alone

Five

I cry out for him

Four

you can only scream for so long…

Three

so much blood

Two

at a point, you stop thinking

…

One

it's almost over

.

.

.

H e tells me

I am a very strong girl.

die.

if it wasn't for the blood,

it would be

as if it never happened.

but it did

and soon enough

it begins again

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ten

It was still dark when Katsumi awoke, lurching forward, clothes drenched in a cold sweat. She gasped and coughed, throat tight and suffocating. She desperately clutched her head as it pulsed, stabbing pain vibrating through her skull.

Fuck, she needed some water.

She didn't bother turning the light on, the flashlight of her phone was enough for her at that moment, shining up from where she had placed it on the kitchen countertop. The sound of the tap running relaxed her the tiniest amount. She held her hands under it, the freezing temperature numbing them before she splashed it only her feverish face. Grimacing she took a cup from the cupboard and filled it, turning the tap off and chugging the cool liquid down her slimy throat.

What was wrong with her?

What the fuck was wrong with her?

She buried her face into her still-wet hands, it didn't help much to cool the hot shame radiated out of her.

Katsumi really was the shittest daughter alive. She had been for a while, but she had really outdone herself this time. What an immature, childish, pathetic outburst. He must be so disappointed, and he didn't even know the half of it, because while her poor dad was fearing for her life, she playing video games with a villain who had tried to kill him.

She gripped her face harder.

The exact same villain her dad feared could have kidnapped her, who could be torturing her. And she didn't even have the decency to apologise, instead, she threw a tantrum like a fucking toddler.

It was only when she pulled her hands away from her face and saw the tiniest bit of blood she realised she had been digging her fingernails into her skin. She looked at her face in the reflection of the window in front of her. The inky black void outside made it so she could see her dishevelled appearance reflecting back at her. Her hair lay both flat and unkempt, roots grown out. The moisture from the sweat and the water made her baby hair stick to her damp skin in unkept, tangled curls. Her mouth was pulled down into a perpetual frown, her skin was blotchy and red. The cuts that had bled from how hard she had been gripping her face were already fading, her tired, red eyes watching as they completely disappeared.

That is how it was. No matter how severe or slight the injury, it would disappear. No one besides her had the knowledge it existed in the first place. If only her actions would do the same.

She hadn't been all that mad at her father, all those thoughts were nothing new. The idea that her parents should never have had her, that all her suffering stemmed from her paternity… It's not like she could do anything about it. It's not like her dad could do anything about it. Unless she told him what that man did to her, what he was doing. No, she was leaving him in the dark, and that was her choice. Because she did love him, and the suffering that knowledge would bring him… she couldn't do that to him. She would suffer by herself.

Alone.

The stress had got to her, and she'd lashed out at her dad. It wasn't what he did that made her so irritable, it was just her being frustrated and needing to release all the confused anger at something.

It was those memories of back that had been locked away for so long, it wasn't that she had grown past them, healed from them, it was that she had managed to separate them from herself. But the wall she had built had crumbled down the moment she heard that man's voice over that speaker. She could keep them separated, she could try to force a gap between those memories and her life now, but the memories seemed to pull and push, desperately trying to reach her. On top of that, she had to worry about that man's meddling… and Tomura. It was exhausting, frustrating. But what could she do about it?

Well, if she told her father about that man, if she told the police, they might be able to arrange a surprise attack and bring him down, destroying whatever scheme he had. But…

But she wasn't going to tell anyone. Because first, she needed to save Tomura, because she didn't want her father to suffer, because she wasn't even sure if that man could be defeated…

Excuses.

Katsumi choked on a sob.

She didn't want to face it.

She just didn't want to think about it.

She wanted it to go away.

She was a coward.

She didn't want things to change.

If she told anyone, she'd be forced into therapy, she could see it now, forced to relive it all under the pretence of healing. Asked why she would keep it to herself for so long, why she had done nothing about the attack, why she wasn't doing anything.

She was her dad's pitying gaze, his apologies, his self-hatred. Nothing she would say would deter it, he just was that sort of person. He'd want to shoulder it all himself.

She could deal with it.

She would shoulder it herself. Even if it crushed her.

She hadn't even seen that man, not since he put that quirk in her. But his shadow seemed to loom over her day and night.

She just needed to convince Tomura. Convince Tomura? Convince him what? Make progress to what? Him suddenly deciding everything he had been brought up to think was wrong? That man who saved him was wrong? Why, because she said so? The girl who had left him at the first opportunity? You just want to leave me! You hate me, don't you?

How well did he remember it? What did he think of all this? She was sure he hated her, sure she would never get him to trust him, there would be no chance of luring him away. But then, it seemed like she had been wrong. He seemed like he might actually want her around. It reminded her of back then, playing video games and watching stuff, all the while she grew back limbs. If she could at least get back to how they were, being friends, she could get a hold and begin to try and… convince him.

It sounded so stupid.

She didn't know what she was doing, she thought she had failed, that he hated her, but then she got a spark of hope. She was happy, it was actually fun to hang out with him. After all, he was her friend, her first friend, and she cared about him, even if he had changed.

She supposed that was why she got so angry with her dad. She had experienced a small relief from the stress that had been eating her alive, and as soon as that happened he got upset with her. Of course, he didn't know the stress he had been under. He didn't know she wasn't being careless, she purposely forgot the damn phone so he couldn't track her. Because she wanted to get her visit over with earlier so she could sleep as soon as she got home because she felt so exhausted from all the damned training all day and talking to an irrational short-tempered manchild in the evenings. He seemed to think all this training was fine with her, he was more worried about Izuku, and he had no idea about her nighttime activities.

All that frustration from the stress she had been going through had bubbled inside her for too long. Her father just pushed the wrong buttons and ended up being the one to brace the brunt of its explosion, the fire only fuelled by their rocky relationship.

Fuck.

He had no idea why she was so angry. She must seem insane, stupid hormonal teenager. She was certainly a dramatic asshole, shouting at him like that. He had no idea what she was doing, what she was holding inside, keeping to herself. He didn't understand the stress that made her shoulders heavy and her stomach sick.

It was because he didn't know that he didn't understand, that drove Katsumi crazy because he couldn't know. She had decided a million times she would never tell him. It just was never going to happen. He didn't understand because he didn't know, he couldn't know because she wouldn't tell him, he wouldn't understand that it wasn't his fault, that he shouldn't blame himself, even if she blamed him.

No.

She didn't blame him.

…

Did she? Did she blame him?

Katsumi was thinking too much lately, and as her mind devolved deeper and deeper into her own thoughts, she felt sicker and sicker. It was cold in the kitchen and the chill seemed to reach to her bones as she clutched the edge of the sink.

All the rambling thoughts that swirled in her head, she found it hard to keep track of them all. Everything was becoming muddied, her feelings, her memories, her thoughts.

She didn't understand what was going on.

If that was so, if she didn't even understand herself, how would anyone else? Even if someone cut her head open and peeked inside she wasn't sure they would. Or maybe that was presumptuous of her. She wasn't that interesting, not all that complex or tortured. Maybe it all just boiled down to her being a shitty person who lashed out because she was lonely all the while isolating herself. Perfectly understandable, just pathetic. She should stay alone, no one needed to see that.

No, but she wanted someone to understand. But they couldn't think that. She would rather no one understand than someone understand and still hate her. But surely they would feel bad for her right? Right?

No, they wouldn't. Why would they? She had chosen this for herself. Her actions were her own.

She really was pathetic. She hated all of this. Why was she wallowing in her own self-pity like this? If she had chosen to isolate herself, to deal with it herself, she should be getting on with it, doing anything and everything to help Tomura and then turn on that man. Stop being so pathetic.

But, what was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to do that? She had no idea what Tomura wanted, how to change his mind, what the League was planning next, how to protect her father…

For a moment she wished he had kept her out of it. Wished that she would be able to live the rest of her life ignorant. But then, she wouldn't be able to protect her father, she wouldn't even be able to attempt to help Tomura, even in the pitiful way she was trying now.

She'd rather be living in ignorance than help anyone, was that it?

She really was no hero.

Her own father.

The boy who saved her life.

She owed them, but…

She was so pathetically selfish.

She didn't want to think any longer.

She took a moment, before picking the glass up and shoving it into the dishwasher. She was going to leave but looking around she saw that her dad hadn't cleaned up after eating. There was a cutting board left out with a knife as well as a plate. Without thinking much, she put the plate away before walking to the cutting board.

A knife.

Katsumi picked it up, staring at her reflection in the sharp steel.

Why had she woken up? Right, a dream.

That dream was cruel, seemed the argument had triggered her mind to serve her a particularly torturous dream. Maybe that was what set her off to be so incessantly miserable when all she was supposed to do was get a glass of water. She wasn't sure if she was glad she hadn't taken any of her pills, that she had been able to wake herself up. After all, all she awoke to were dark thoughts. But she supposed she was grateful, if she hadn't woken up she would be trapped there, reliving it all again. That was worse.

Maybe.

It used to be that only sleep was what drew her back into that time, little memories slipping through the cracks. She wished she could go back to that.

Her eyes drifted from the miserable distorted reflection in the knife to her hand, fingers resting on the kitchen counter.

Everything would be easier if she wasn't such a shitty person. No matter how many times she told herself she didn't blame her father, it wasn't really true. No, it wasn't just that she felt he was to blame, it was something else. Was it that she was jealous that he could live in ignorance? That she was sacrificing and suffering so he would never have to know what happened to his daughter? Because she knew he would blame himself, she would never tell him. She would suffer alone in her self-made solitude.

That was her choice. She made that choice! What sort of pathetic person gets mad at someone for something they decided themselves? She was pathetic.

She gripped the knife harder.

He didn't notice. Is that what she wanted? Someone to see? No one noticed, no one could notice the true extent of her injury. She would get bague questions about her mood, but no one could understand the size of her pain, everything she had gone through. It was enough to kill someone one hundred times over, to drive someone insane. Someone as weak as her had only managed to deal with it by cowardly pushing it away, pretending it never happened.

She could hide from how it had poisoned her mind for as long as she wanted, but it didn't mean it wasn't there, seeping through into every action. But if people did know, then things would change, they'd force her to face it. For her own good.

That couldn't happen.

As she stared at her fingers, she understood them, a regrown extremity that replaced what had been taken from her long ago. No one else would know that, of course, they wouldn't.

Except for those two.

She gripped the knife harder.

What did it matter what happened to her? What did it matter that she was miserable? Why get angry? Thanks to that man, she could take anything. You could break her apart in any manner of ways and she'd come back as if nothing happened. No one would know…

She stared at her fingers. All ten of them were there, but she remembered the feeling of them being served off, one, by, one. That was before Tomura took over that job. Was that dream even a real memory? Or just an amalgamation of different torturous training, melded into one? Did it matter? It was always a bloody, painful event, marked worse by the sight of her father's beaming face being bathed in praise after saving the day once again.

The hate boiled up, she gripped the knife harder, and then the guilt washed over her. He didn't know. It wasn't his fault, he wasn't to blame, she shouldn't blame him. It was that man. That man. She should be angry at him, and she was. So why was she still so angry with her dad? Because he should have been there, he should have saved her. Because he was supposed to be good, to protect her, he could everyone else, why not her? That's why she was angry, and because there was no conclusion, no closure because he didn't know what happened, how he failed, and he never would.

Or maybe, because she was a fucking awful, hateful excuse of a human that just wanted to blame anyone and anything except herself.

She stared at her fingers.

Her dad was an easy target, huh? She could shout at him all she wanted and he would apologise. He wouldn't fight back, he wouldn't hurt her, and she could take out all her anger on him without being hurt.

Coward.

She couldn't face the real perpetrator so she took it out on the people who cared for her.

She was still holding the knife.

No wonder no one cared to understand her.

She gripped the knife harder.

It was better that way.

She didn't deserve her father.

She stared at her fingers.

The knife was cool against her burning palm.

She'd come back as if nothing happened.

No one would know.

No one.