MHA: Undying

“How can she think I’m dead!?” I demand of Himi after slamming my cup back down on the table. “Inko literally spoke to me after I jumped! It wasn’t even the same day!” I take a swig of my beverage, scowling at it upon the realization that it’s empty.

Himi just rolls her eyes at my actions while waving to get the waitress’ attention and signaling for a refill, getting her own eye roll in return even as she goes to get it.

Meanwhile I continue grumbling to myself. “I mean, I’d expect this kind of thing from Toshinori, but Inko?” I shake my head. “What the heck!”

“Maybe she just forgot? She did seem pretty distracted back then.” Himi tries to defend her, though I know it’s not out of any kind of actual belief that she actually forgot, but more to play devil’s advocate to help me understand the situation.

I mean, half the reason I decided to call myself Midosagi is so that they would know that they’re responsible for me being a villain. But if they all think that I’m dead, then how are they supposed to make that connection!? They’ll just think it’s a coincidence!

The waitress comes back and places my drink in front of me, which I take without a word and chug a mouthful. She eyes me for a moment before sighing. “I’ll have another on the way. You should slow down though, drinking so much root beer in so little time isn’t good for you.”

I wave off the waitress’ concerns. “Doesn’t matter. I’m irritated and confused, plus my girlfriend won’t let me drink at the bar. A quick stab later will have me feeling right as a blight anyways. Himi will like it too so that’s a win-win.”

Other than a raised eyebrow the waitress just shrugs off my words. After all, she doesn’t know my quirk, or what it takes to use it. For all she knows I could fix any stomach aches by poking myself with a pencil and I’m just using weird phrases to talk about it because I’m some kind of edge lord.

Sort of like that weird guy shouting about manliness a few booths over. Now, to be clear, I’m not calling him weird because he’s shouting about manliness in a cafe. It’s because the guys he’s sitting with are looking at him like he’s crazy while he does so, not that I’m one to talk.

But anyways, Himi huffs and pulls my root beer away while the waitress goes to another table, worsening my scowl. “Trying to get drunk on soda won’t help you figure anything out. Even if fake drunk Izu is pretty fun~.”

I snort, snatching my drink back. I look down into the frothy liquid as I think. “You’re right-”

“I usually am~,” she smirks back.

“-but it’s really surprising. I get that she’s the one who cared the least about my existence, but letting everyone else think that I’m dead? That’s some next level of uncaring sh- *thunk* junk.”

She nods in agreement, setting the mini frying pan on the table. “Yeah, that is messed up. Though,” she taps her chin and glances up, “maybe she did it on purpose?” She muses.

At my confused look, she explains. “Not letting anyone know you’re alive would take, like, a ton of effort! Talking about you in the past tense instead of present, resisting correcting people about the day you died, and lets not forget watching everyone around herself believe something that she knows is wrong.”

She shakes her head. “We both know how hard it is knowing everyone around us is wrong but fully believe that they’re right.”

I think on that for a moment before nodding my head. “You’re right. Again.” I sigh. “But why? What benefit does she get from letting everyone think that I’m dead?.” I snort. “It’s not like they would have tried looking for me.”

She shrugs. “Who knows? Sane people aren’t right in the head.”

I nod in agreement. “Yeah, sane people are weird.”

With our discussion about how Inko is more of a bitchy mother than a neglectful mother out of the way, we instead talk about how boring and  nonsensical sane people are. But lingering in the back of my mind is what to do about Shoko.

I mean… I don’t have to do anything, but I feel guilty about just letting her think that I’m dead. Even if it is because of Inko’s petty bitchiness.

*Thunk*

I glare at Himi, who shrugs. “I felt like I should, so I did.”

“Sigh. Not even my thoughts are safe from the censoring frying pan.”

She giggles as the door opens and a group of girls in high school uniforms pass by the manly guy’s group leaving. “So, what were you thinking about that deserved a whack?”

“I was wondering if I should let Shoko know that I’m alive. I mean, she was the only person to care about me back then. Even if she ends up hating me for the fact that I’ve become a villain, she at least deserves to know.”

She tilts her head. “Do you want her to know you’re alive?” I hesitate, but slowly nod, the high schoolers’ chattering getting louder. She shrugs. “Then tell her. Or leave a letter. What’s the point of being able to do what we want if you chicken out?” She points at me accusingly with her straw, and I laugh, taking note of the girls filling the booth next to us.

Her eyes narrow. “Wait a minute, didn’t we already talk about this a few days ago? When you were already going to tell her that you’re a villain? Why are we doing it again?” She gasps dramatically. “Are we in a time-loop? A dream? Is someone using a quirk to root around in our memories but got them all jumbled up and this isn’t really happening?”

Seeing the overexaggerated panic, I can’t help the laughter that bursts out of me, quickly followed by her own. Laughter that’s abruptly cut short. Confused, I look at Himi, only to see her with wide eyes and slightly trembling.

Turning, I see that her eyes are locked on the group behind me. It’s a group of four, one with a minor mutation to go with their quirk that gives them some soft looking antenna things poking out of their bushy hair. Another with a full mutation that kind of resembles a llama? Maybe? But the other two don’t have any distinguishing characteristics, one having short brown hair and the other long black hair.

I turn back to Himi, taking her hand in mind and feeling her grip it as strong as she can. “Himi? What’s wrong.” She doesn’t answer, just trembles. My concern skyrockets. In the entirety of our time together I have never seen her scared. And this isn’t just her being scared, she’s terrified. But why? What is it about those girls that scare her? It’s only then that I start listening to their conversation.

Unfortunately it’s just inane drivel about social relationships. *Shiver* They really do make things way too complicated. Are you friends? No? Do you want to be friends? Again, no? Then ignore them. There’s no reason to try making them miserable just because they aren’t in your ‘clique’. But then their talks turn to the past, and that does get my attention, my hand tightening inside Himi’s.

“But last year was crazy, right?”

“What do you mean?” The brunette asks, though the way she shifts tells how she knows what the afro -maybe she’s sheep-like?- girl is talking about.

“Oh c’mon, you know!” The black haired girl accuses. “What happened with Toga, her going psycho and attacking Saito! I heard that his family moved to Hokkaido after he got out of the hospital.”

“Yeah,” the llama nods, “I overheard the teachers talking, and they said they didn’t want to risk him getting attacked again.”

They continue their conversation, talking about how with Himi’s ‘villainous quirk’ it was only a matter of time before she attacked someone. And how if she hadn’t hid what it was they never would have talked to her.

“She’s probably putting her skills to good use living on the streets,” the black haired girl snickers. “I bet blood isn’t the only thing she’s sucking now.”

It’s only when Himi taps my wrist that I realize how hard I’m holding her hand, prompting me to ease up. The more they talk, the angrier I get. And seeing her hair shadowing her eyes and the drops of water under her hanging head, I'm on the verge of losing it.

“Still though,” the llama interjects when they all stop laughing. “Don’t you guys think she’s pretty pitiful?” At the others’ confused looks, she explains. “I mean, you all know how some people don’t like me because of how my quirk makes me look. But at least it’s not a villainous one.”

She shakes her head. “Looking at someone like Toga, who never would have been able to make it as a normal person, I can’t help but be thankful about how much better off than her I am.”

Now it’s Himi gripping my hand too tightly, but since I don’t feel pain I let her. Instead, I draw a knife from out of my shoe and gently place it under her face before leaning forward.

“They don’t know you. They never knew you. Don’t let the words of those with no understanding of how the world really works bother you. The words of the blind don’t matter when it comes to seeing how wonderful you are. But more than that, don’t let either them, or your past, curb your decisions.”

She looks up, her golden slitted eyes peering at me through a veil of tears. I give her a gentle smile. “We were just talking about it, right? What’s the point of being able to do what you want if you just chicken out?”

“And if something is preventing you from doing what you want?” I gently raise the hand I’m holding, flipping it over so that her palm faces her and her fingers are extended. With practiced motions, I flex her hand, and the claws of the device pop out as my grin turns dark.

“Then all we have to do is get rid of it. After all, who are they to get in the way of our happiness?”

She stares for a moment before smiling at me. She gives me a quick peck on the lips before starting to giggle. Then it starts to get louder. And louder. Soon enough, she’s laughing. And before long, the rest of the cafe becomes silent as it turns into cackles, growing shriller and unhinged.

With a smile, I flip the hood of my jacket on top of my head, looking forward to what’s to come. Eventually, our waitress works up the nerve to return to our table. “E-excuse me, bu-but would you mind quieting down a bit? You’re d-disturbing the other customers.”

Abruptly, she stops, meeting the waitress’ eyes. She shivers, and Himi pats her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine now.” She stands up, her hand not leaving the waitress’ shoulder. Then she spins her around, cozying up against her so that they both face the girls from Himi’s past.

I stand up as well, turning around to fully pay attention to them for the first time. They’re looking at my girlfriend with shocked eyes and open mouths. “You see,” Himi explains, “I was just surprised to find some old friends. We have sooo~ much catching up to do~!”

The waitress swallows while the girls are frozen. She gently tries to move away, obviously terrified of the situation. I’m sure that this isn’t what she expected when she came into work today. “I-I-I see. I-i-i-in that case, could y-y-you let me go? I-I-I’ll be happy to bring you some drinks!” Her voice hitches, knowing that something bad is about to happen.

“Oh~, honey,” Himi purrs, nuzzling against the waitress as a blush builds despite her situation. Her voice a sultry whisper in her ear. “You already have~.”

And with that she drags her claws across the waitress’ throat, her blood shooting out in an arc to cover the group in front of us. She quickly lowers her mouth to the fatal wound, ignoring the screams and panicked customers rushing for the door. She drinks deeply, her face becoming flushed as she keeps one eye on the girls who have become petrified from shock, not seeming to know how to react to the sudden bloody spectacle that splatters over them.

At least until Himi pulls away from the waitress and gives her a peck, her own blood smearing against her lips. “Thanks for the caramel~.” And she releases her to limply fall to the floor.

As if that was the signal, the girls move to action, bursting from the booth and rushing for the door. Himi throws one knife, and I throw another. My knife ends up in the back of the head of the brunette, while Himi’s takes the sheep in the back of the throat As the door slams shut behind the other two, we share glances and walk forward, making sure they’re dead with barely a glance.

Outside, we see the two girls running in opposite directions. “I take Konima, you take Haisu. That’s the llama girl.” I nod, and the hunt begins~.

`~`

When the police arrive, they find the bodies of the four friends seated in one of the booths, each covered in their own blood and embedded with a knife. Or several in the case of two of the girls. The waitress’ body is leaning against the edge of a booth with a notepad and pencil taped to her hands. A sick rendition of what the location is meant to be like.

And on the table, drawn in blood is the image of a rabbit, along with a message. But signed with a different name.

Don’t they look so pretty now! Blood is love

                                                                                     -Chusagi