Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wonder Girl: Unusually talented or skilled girl

'...Watching through my fingers, watching through my fingers
Caught off guard by your favourite song
I'll be dancing at a funeral, dancing at a funeral...'
-Good Grief, Bastille

Snow. That was the first that thing hit (Y/n) as she opened her eyes. Her breaths steadied in the frigid air, puffs of pure white flowing to the dark, gray skies.

"Goddamn it!"

(Y/n) bolted upright, head spinning. Who was that?

"Fuck you and your shitty society of Heroes and Villains! Fuck you! Fuck you and your whole family!" A man kneeled over in the snow, digging his fists across ice and rocks with a howl. He sounded like a wounded, rabid dog. "You weren't supposed to come here, and because of you, now I'm stuck!" He threw himself into a tree with another howl. "I can't go back for another few years, you bitch!"

The man staggered through the ice and snow, sneakers squeaking. A knife gleamed between his fingertips under the falling snow. It was cold, so cold, yet (Y/n) wasn't sure if she could feel it or not.

The man lunged forward. "I'll kill you!" (Y/n) sloppily rolled over on her side just in time to see the knife lodge itself into a shattered patch of ice. She jumped to her feet as the man readjusted and swiped again.

"I'll kill you and your whole fucking family!" He stabbed at thin air. "You're gonna suffer!" He charged forward again. "It's your fault I'm here!"

All her fault? (Y/n)'s limbs felt like they would burst. She didn't know what this man was talking about when she was sure she would die. Maybe that man had a rebound on his Quirk, if that was the reason they both ended up in the middle of nowhere. Spots danced in her vision as she ducked and rolled out of the way. Fear coursed into her veins when her faze locked with the man's.

He was long gone, filled with an empty thirst that could never be quenched. (Y/n) heaved. "Stop it!" she cried. "I don't want to--!"

"Kill me?" the man demanded. He grinned and rove the gleaming knife into her abdomen. (Y/n)'s breath hitched, spots blaring in and out of her vision. Gods, she really was going to die here, wasn't she?

The man bared his ugly teeth and yanked the knife out with an evil grin. Red splattered against the pure snow. "Do it bitch!" he sneered. "Kill me! If you move, you're gonna pass out from blood loss and die anyway!"

(Y/n)'s fingers twitched. She tapped her palm and activated her Quirk. The wound healed as the man drove his knife back down.

Was this it? Kai and Hari weren't around to save (Y/n). She was alone in some unknown place in the middle of nowhere with no means of contact, no food, and no shelter. How foolish she was to think she could be strong in the face of adversary? Even if she survived, she'd die of frostbite and starvation.

"You're so quiet for someone suffering." The man stabbed (Y/n) in the arm, twisting his knife ever so slowly. "Come on, bitch!"

A scream left (Y/n)'s lips, running her throat raw and dry against the frigid air. She was forgetting how to breathe with the constricting of her throat. Everything burned, trailing up her body like fire.

Suck it up, (Y/n)!

The man stamped a foot into the wound on her shoulder, grinding his foot into the bloody mess of broken flesh and skin and bone.

Suck it up!

A strangled scream broke through (Y/n)'s lips. The world blurred in and out.

Come on, suck it up!

(Y/n) caught the man's ankle with her free hand, fingers twitching, itching.

"You can't do shit," he laughed. "Don't touch me with your bloody hands, you dirty bitch." Through the pain and through the world coated in yellow and orange spots, (Y/n) mustered the last of her strength. She looked up into those empty, maddened eyes with a dark glare. Golden eyes like the sun, yet colder than the Arctic. Fiercer than a lions yet more flaming than a wildfire.

The man shivered, fingers trembling around the knife. "What--what the fuck? You think you can scare me?" His voice rattled, teeth chattering. "All you're doing is wasting your energy!"

(Y/n) hauled herself to an elbow, grip tightening around his ankle. She heaved in deep breaths to slow the spread of exhaustion that pulled at her heavy limbs. This was not the end. She wouldn't let it be. "Maybe I am," she felt her expression harden, "but at least I know I'm sending you off to hell."

Even though (Y/n)'s voice broke, even though she was close to bleeding out in unbearable pain, the man before her shook and quivered. Pure, unadulterated fear flashed in his eyes. And before he could blink, his limbs burst from his torso one by one. He screamed and thrashed to no avail--the pain would not disappear, the pain would not stop.

The last thing the man saw were a pair of ice-cold eyes like liquid gold. They were passive, clinical, as if he were nothing more than a science experiment in a lab.

(Y/n) collapsed in the snow, blood and broken bits of flesh freezing along her skin in the frigid cold. She tapped a finger to her hand, activating her Quirk. The painful wounds healed to a dull throb, a sensation that tattooed itself into (Y/n)'s broken mind.

Where was Kai? Where was Oyaji? Hari? Trees blanketed in thick sheets of snow stretched out for as far as the eye could see. Blood and the warm limbs leaking it scattered across the stained landscape. If they saw her here, would they see her as a monster? A cruel murderer? Spots and darkness mockingly danced in (Y/n)'s vision, never truly fading and never truly there.

Chisaki (Y/n) had killed someone.

Chisaki (Y/n) had killed.

Someone.

Killed. Killed. Killed someone.

A crushing weight flattened the moment of silence. She tried hauling herself up, knees buckling like jelly. Away from the blood, away from the body, away from the evidence that she was no longer pure and true and honest like the heroes she saw on television. (Y/n) was dirty. Tainted like the snow beneath her feet. But wasn't she always?

The world faded again, blurring together until the snow and the sky meshed into one. The scent of blood lingered in the air, heavy like a blanket. She heaved shallowly. Once. Twice. Again, again, breathe, breathe, just breathe--

(Y/n)'s body gave out and she collapsed into an icy patch of snow. White puffs left her lips, quiet, frantic. The eyeball of that man lay only half a foot away in a pool of red. Its gaze was piercing. It lay unmoving, the blank stare meeting her wide golden eyes.

The world blurred once again, the eye blinking in and out of space. (Y/n) threw out a hand and tried to sit up, but she buckled and fell into a world of darkness.

---

It was silent. Too silent. The slow, steady exhale of breath made (Y/n) tense. This voice was not familiar, and this presence, but of a stranger. She kept her eyes sealed shut. It was the smart thing until she had grasped the gravity of her situation. Where was she? Kai was not in the vicinity, or else she would never hear the end of it from him.

Be careful, he would say. There are plenty of crazy people out there. If it weren't for Overhaul you would be...

Blah blah blah blah blah. But Kai was nowhere to be sensed. His presence was a mere wisp in the Universe, as if he had completely disappeared from the plane of existence. He should have been right beside her with a chiding shake of his head.

A sinking iciness settled into (Y/n)'s gut. She was completely alone. Her breath hitched, heart racing like the blood in her veins. Alone where?

Where?

She kept her eyes shut, focusing on her breaths instead. There was no time to panic again, she had to focus and get out of this before her enemy acted first.

A small chuckle broke (Y/n) from her spell of concentration. It was light, airy, with a teasing tone that made her want to punch something. "I know you're awake." came a silky voice. "You might as well open your eyes." The man sounded young, no older than his late teens or early twenties. Irritation spread to the very edges of (Y/n)'s mind. It was as if he viewed himself as a superior, someone considerably better than her. She stubbornly kept her eyes shut.

"Don't be like that, Wonder Girl." He sounded like he was smirking. "You've been asleep long enough."

There wasn't any point in pretending to sleep. (Y/n)'s eyes snapped open, and with as much strength as her noodle arms could muster, she shoved the man away. She harshly tumbled out of his hold, snow and ice skidding against her winter boots. "Who are you and where are we?"

The teenager blinked and placed a hand on his hip. Under his curious gaze, it looked like he felt bad about dropping (Y/n). She stood tall, hands held at the ready to activate her Quirk. A part of (Y/n) knew she couldn't outrun him.

Just look at those muscles. He was like those Roman sculptures, except much more solid, and very much real. She could never dream of beating such a super human. The navy blue tattoos covering his rounded face trailed down his torso and arms, only stopping at his fingertips were already off-putting as is.

Maybe if (Y/n) weren't high on the influx of adrenaline, she would have laughed. The guy looked like a basketball.

Somehow, he seemed to sense her slight amusement. "A moment ago, you looked ready to run for your life," he said. "What's so funny?" (Y/n) almost laughed. Almost. This whole predicament was simply ridiculous. She had just killed someone, now she was in the presence of some mutant? She heaved out a breath, puffs of white rising to the sky. "Why are you here?"

Moonlight broke through the thick gray clouds, reflecting its silvery beams upon the man's eyes. They were gorgeously coloured like persimmons, with thick pink lashes that perfectly framed his half-lidded eyes.

A grin rose to the boy's lips and it made (Y/n) feel like nothing more than a little girl playing dress up. "You should be thanking me," --the condescending tone didn't make her grateful-- "if I hadn't found you, you would still be in the snow, frost-bitten and dead." Fangs protruded from his lips, gleaming dangerously. "Did your family abandon you? Were they eaten perhaps?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." (Y/n) clenched her teeth. The farther the moon rose, the colder it got. Would she freeze before she ever got out of this forest? "You must have brought me here. Save me the energy and tell me, what is your Quirk?"

The teenager raised a brow. "'Quirk'?" he echoed with a dramatic raise of his brows. "I don't know what you're talking about." A sigh left his lips and (Y/n) wondered if it was out of irritation or pity. "It seems I picked up a mentally unstable child. I assume your family had been eaten and that your trauma--"

"Excuse me?" (Y/n) huffed incredulously. "I'm not the one wearing nothing but a vest and trousers in the dead of winter. How are you not dead from the cold?" That question sparked another smug smirk on the boy's lips. "So you don't know what I am?" It was painfully obvious he was playing with her. "Tell me," he said, "what happened before you came here?"

"Why should I tell you?"

The man let out a short sigh in false disappointment. Oh, the audacity--

"My name is Akaza and I am a demon who spared your life. Consider yourself blessed, as I don't eat women." The bluntness of his tone sent (Y/n) off kilter. His tone was true and honest, yet she found herself desperately denying his words.

A demon? He doesn't eat women? What was this, the Taisho Era? (Y/n) grew up with her Oyaji telling bedtime stories of the rumoured demons who once roamed the land. They ate for strength, for satisfaction, for their bloodthirsty needs to please the Demon King, Kibutsuji Muzan.

But those were rumours and tales from a book her Oyaji loved. She and Kai never believed them. Quirks didn't even exist until another century later anyway, so how could some random doctor so happen to create the demon race thousands of years before?

Akaza knitted his brows together, lips pulling into an odd look (Y/n) could almost call concerned. "Was that not enough information?" he inquired. "It won't matter since you clearly have no one to turn to. You're alone. Why is that?" (Y/n) stuffed her frigid fingers into her pockets.

Usually, the below-freezing temperatures offered comfort, and security to the fact that she wouldn't burn up in the intense heat of summer.

Today? Her bones practically shivered.

"I don't know where I am," she admitted. "And I have a feeling I'm far away from home. Are you going to kill me, 'demon'?"

Ah, so she was playing stupid, thought Akaza. The sceptical shine in the girl's eyes shone brightly in the moon's light. Akaza paused, releasing a breath into the chilly air. They glittered like liquid gold, precious gems only the luckiest stumbled upon.

Maybe there was something special aboit this girl. That was not the stare of a child, but a survivor who lived long enough to tell her tale. "You don't have a strong presence, yet you have the eyes of a warrior. And your skill, although unpolished, has caught my eye."

The awe in his voice forced (Y/n) to meet his gaze. "Oh yeah?" she sarcastically inquired. "I better after all I've been through." Akaza's curiosity shouldn't have spiked, but this girl? She was so mysterious, so intriguing that he just had to know who she was. Something in his heart pulled. "All you've been through? You're no older than ten or twelve, there isn't much to go through. What's your name?"

"None of your business, Akaza-san."

His brows raised. "'San'?" She sent him a sharp look and that only fueled his smugness by tenfold. His eyes brightened, darkening like the very night around them. "You have nowhere to go and no one to turn to. This forest is in the middle of nowhere."

Whatever the demon was suggesting, (Y/n) didn't like it. She took the offense and fell into the most useful stance she could think of. Akaza's eyes gleamed brightly, dangerously.

"You know martial arts, too?" He sounded giddy. "Your stance is not half-bad." (Y/n) blinked and suddenly, Akaza had appeared in front of her, less than a step or two away. She hadn't even seen him move.

Akaza knelt on one knee to meet her angry gaze. The Kanji for 'Upper Moon Three' lay carved into his eyes, and it was then that (Y/n) realised how deep she had dug her grave. It wasn't impossible someone sent her back in time. Quirks like that existed, but were kept under the tightest of wraps. The face of her Oyaji flashed in her mind and she thought back to the stories he used to read long ago.

"Those with Kanji engraved in their eyes are part of the Twelve Kizuki," he had said. (Y/n) looked up from her pillow with wide, curious eyes. "So they were the strongest demons?" Her old man nodded seriously. "Usually, the Hashira could defeat them, but most times, they fell in battle. It was uncommon to meet the Upper Moons, but when someone did, it never ended well."

It was possible, no matter how impossible it sounded. (Y/n) couldn't call this impossible when Quirks--abilities that defied the once concrete facts of science--existed. If flying heroes and invisibility grew from a mutation, then what were the odds of man-eating demons?

Akaza studied her expression carefully. "How long have you been learning for, Wonder Girl?" (Y/n) swallowed a lump in her throat with a heavy breath. "I was taught by my Oyaji's friend," --she had to calm her racing heart, she had to buy time-- "but by the looks of it, you're much better than me."

"Flattery gets you no where." Akaza said with a laugh. "What's with that face of yours? Didn't I tell you I wasn't going to eat you?"

Like (Y/n) could believe a man-eating demon (if that was what he truly was). She fought back the urge to scowl. He was toying with her, like she were a little doll for a young child. He was searching for the break in (Y/n)'s defenses, a bit of amusement for his long, gruesome life as a demon.

An uncomfortable lump formed in (Y/n)'s throat. She swallowed hard. Akaza's bright eyes met her own, searching for the unsaid. He took a step back and it was almost...respectful? Considerate?

"It's getting colder." he said. "If you stay out here any longer, you can get sick and die." Akaza turned towards the horizon, staring past the thick line of trees like a character from Star Wars. (Y/n) didn't follow his gaze. If she took her eyes off him, then he might really kill her.

'I don't eat women' my foot, she thought. If the stories were as true as Oyaji claimed, then she had to proceed with the utmost caution. For all she knew, Akaza was savouring the moment until he got his hands on her limbs. Where would he take her? What tormenting game would he play? Akaza's calculating gaze met (Y/n)'s and she stiffened. "Come on" he said. "I can hear your teeth chattering from the cold."

(Y/n) harshly pursed her lips together, an embarrassed frown tugging at the edges of her lips. What a prat. Her teeth were not chattering, he was just teasing her. She glared at Akaza and he laughed, those fangs of his gleaming in the moonlight.

(Y/n) hated the fact that she couldn't muster the courage to run. This demon ate people for his own satisfaction, his own unwavering will for strength, his own greed. He was a danger to society--and herself. Yet eEven if (Y/n) somehow found her way out of the forest, there probably wasn't a town or village for kilometers.

Staying out in the frigid winter meant certain death, and dying of frostbite didn't sound pleasant. If (Y/n) was going to find a way home, she needed to stay healthy, alive, and well. A breeze brushed up a gust of snow, sending a shiver down (Y/n)'s spine. She was helpless to the elements, so vulnerable under the demon's gaze.

Was this the path to salvation?

Or the journey to hell?

Akaza's lips curved into a satisfied smirk. "No need to look so scared," he said with a teasing laugh. "I'm not going to eat you." (Y/n) kept her gaze forward as they walked. No matter what Akaza said, she wouldn't bask in the false arms of security. Why would he refuse to eat women when they were said to be extra nutritious? It was like choosing an iceberg lettuce salad over a good four-course meal.

"If you say so, demon."

He merely grinned, this time much wider than before. "You know, you never told me your name, Wonder Girl." (Y/n)'s sharp pace slowed to a trudge. She heaved out a breath, watching as puffs of white curled from her lips. It was too late to turn back now. She was too deep in, too involved with the demon she only met forty minutes ago.

"Chisaki (Y/n)."

The way she said it made Akaza's brows raise curiously. '(Y/n)' had said her name with pride, as if it were one of the dearest things in her heart. "You're an interesting girl." He meant it, he really did. "Mind telling me what a 'Quirk' is?"

(Y/n) pulled her jacket closer, sealing off the frigid breezes with her fluffy collar. It wasn't wise to give a stranger information, especially when it would hint that she knew nothing. "It's none of your concern."

To know nothing was ignorance. To be ignorant was to be confused. And to be confused meant sure failure in logical thought, right? Right. (Y/n) heaved out a breath and watched the white tendrils disappear. It was the only thing to keep her nerves in check, to slow her racing heart.

The demon must have sensed her inner battle, because his lips drew into a playfully smug smirk. "You don't fear me," he noted. "But you don't feel safe either."

"A Quirk is an ability someone possesses." (Y/n) cut in, tone clipped and short. "You're a demon, so you have something similar--Blood Demon Arts. I wouldn't call it a Quirk though." Akaza scanned the side of her face, as if to search for the answers that would not come. There wasn't a single break in her cold facade honed to absolute perfection. Who was this girl? She didn't act like how Akaza assumed a human child would. There was no whining about the cold, no crying and shouting he had observed while on the hunt for his prey.

"I'm impressed by your ability to stay calm, especially after what you did earlier."

All that came with Chisaki (Y/n) was a chilling silence and the eyes of an old soul fighting to keep a stone-cold face. She tensed, and for a moment, her hands shook.

Akaza wanted to ask more, to unveil the mysterious girl, but knew that he would receive no answer. It was great, really. This was the most fun he's had in centuries.

The walk continued in an uncomfortable silence. Every few seconds, (Y/n)'s gaze flickered to Akaza's uneasily. He found himself staring forward to the horizon again. "What is it?" His silky voice was surprisingly gentle. "We're almost there if that's what you're wondering. Fifteen minutes." (Y/n) only nodded to herself in acknowledgement.

Great. Fifteen minutes until the march of death ended. What was she supposed to do when they got there? Run? Overhaul Akaza? He was faster than (Y/n) could ever be (one step and he could lop her head off). Demons were not to be messed with, especially Upper Moons. If she so much as moved, then she would be dead before she could even blink.

A part of (Y/n) cowered back in fear. She kept a straight face just as Oyaji had taught her so long ago, but how long would 'fake it till you make it' last? How long until she broke her facade of calm and lashed out in a last-ditch effort? She was a rabbit to the wolf. A seal to the shark. A prey for the hunter who stood right beside her and looked with pretty, gorgeous eyes.

(Y/n) fought up the urge to speak. She didn't like that last thought.

"What are you staring at me for?" Akaza blinked dumbly, like some dork caught spacing off in class. "You're really far away from home, aren't you?"

"I...I suppose so."

When the two arrived, all (Y/n) could do was gawk in awe. The house was rather...beautiful. It was a two floored family home big enough to house six people (or more). The architecture was traditional, and it was built as if to last a century.

Akaza's gaze flickered over to (Y/n)'s. Her cold facade had cracked, revealing a sparkle in her eyes that made him pause. It was curious how quickly her mood switched. One moment, she had been on edge, alert. Now, it was like time came to a pause in order for her to enjoy this one moment.

"Come on," came Akaza's smooth voice, "it's too cold outside for you." He slid open the front doors, but (Y/n) remained still, waiting. Watching. Would he bare his fangs and rear the ugly face of hunger? Or would he continue on with that smug smirk and those playful remarks?

Akaza let out a laugh. "Fine, I'll go in first. I promise, there's nothing to be scared of. I don't kill women, remember?" (Y/n) followed after him and closed the door. She kept an eye on his back as they ventured into the open space, lighting a few lanterns on the way. All windows had been sealed, but whether it was for blocking out the incoming sun or keeping what happened in here under wraps, (Y/n) had no clue.

Despite that, she politely removed her shoes and surveyed her surroundings. A low table in the living slash dining room, a kitchen, stairs to the wall that led to the second floor...

...everything was normal.

Save for the lack of life. This did not feel like a home. It was dark, plain, sapped of the uplifting energy the Shie Hassaikai possessed.

Akaza lit another lamp, those eyes (like persimmons) glowing against the faint flames. "Cold?" he inquired. The urge to put on a brave face and shake her head hit (Y/n). She frowned heavily, as if to tell Akaza to shove off. "What's it matter to you, demon?"

"Gods, you're so feisty. Didn't I tell you I'm not going to eat you?" A laugh rang from his throat again and he disappeared into the other room. (Y/n) awkwardly stared at the walls in wait, breathing as quietly as she could. It was too silent in the dead of the cold, winter night. She missed home already, wishing with all her heart that this was simply a bad dream.

Akaza reappeared with a surprisingly clean futon and a pillow. He laid it down on the cold floor and fluffed up the blankets. "I'll start a fire to heat up the room," he motioned for (Y/n) to rest, "you can sleep here." She only stared into his luminescent eyes. They were full like the moon, with an edge that sharpened the more she studied his marked face. "Why are you helping me?"

There was an iciness in (Y/n)'s tone that made Akaza blink curiously. He tilted his head to the side, raising a brow. For a kid, she was sharp. There were probably a million questions running through her head, yet the only one she cared to ask was why. Why. Why. Why.

"You interest me, that's all."

The answer wasn't that simple and (Y/n) knew. She opened her mouth to speak before shutting it with a short sigh. "Alright, keep your secrets then." Every fibre in her body burned to run. This was a demon. A man-eating danger to society. Yet when (Y/n) looked into those persimmon eyes, she sensed no malice. Akaza wasn't interested in eating her, much less hurting her.

Or so she hoped. But there wasn't a second option. Akaza was (Y/n)'s only chance at survival in this world. He had found her, and now, she would cling onto him in order to live another day. For Kai. For her Oyaji. For Eri. For Hari. There were people waiting back home and (Y/n) couldn't leave them. Slowly, she laid down in the futon, gaze cautiously meeting the intense eyes of Akaza.

"I'll be back," he announced. "The fire is burning, there's more wood in the other room to your right. The bathroom is down the hall."

(Y/n) watched him leave through half-lidded eyes. She had to stay awake, or at least half asleep in order to react to any sudden happenings. But she was exhausted. This was too much excitement for one day and her mind begged for a break. The front doors shut with a heavy gust of wind, then, it was lights out.

Dark. That was the only word (Y/n) could use to describe her surroundings. She wadded through something thick and warm and sticky, the scent of iron filling her nose. The darkness slowly lifted. A vast, barren land of dead trees and bodies littered the lands as far as the eye could see.

(Y/n) took a step forward. She froze.

The thick, warm liquid was blood. Clear as day, it dripped down from her hands and spilled into the lake in little ripples. (Y/n)'s breath hitched. She struggled through the blood, heaving in the iron-scented air.

It was like that day where the sky came crashing down and the world began to cave in. Blood leaked from (Y/n)'s palms in painfully slow droplets.

Drip. Drop.

The sound echoed like a gong. Clear. Loud.

Drip. Drop.

(Y/n) wadded through the bloody lake with frantic breaths. She had to get out of here. But where would she go? The land was barren, with nothing more than dead trees barely hanging on for life. The lake rippled, churning along until a whirlpool formed. (Y/n) ran, but her legs refused to move. She was rooted in place like those trees on the horizon.

No. No. No. (Y/n) wanted to cry for help, or scream and struggle, yet her voice had gone dry, throat was a desert. There was nothing to quench its thirst as she struggled with strangled gasps. The world fell into black, swallowing (Y/n) whole under the lake of blood.

Drip. Drop.

The smell of her old primary school hit (Y/n)'s nose, woody, sweaty. The brick beneath her back was cold, so freezing cold.

Drip. Drop.

"Sensei?"

A sickly grin rose to his lips, displaying a set of crooked teeth. "I'll be quick, promise."

Drip. Drop.

A hand crawled up her side and it was like maggots on her skin. A fearful fit of passionate terror overtook (Y/n)'s body. Her mind vanished, long gone to the subconscious need to survive, to live, to break free. Sensei suddenly screamed. His arm hit the ground with a gut-wretching slosh of warm, sticky blood.

Drip. Drop.

The final blow came in an array of spilled gore and crimson, Sensei's last cry finally silencing to nothing. He was insignificant, really.

Who could miss a wretched human being such as himself, anyway? He was worthless, a waste of space, and a danger to society. Yes, this was okay, right? It was okay since he tried to deal her a fate worse than death. It was revenge for--

"Imouto?"

She froze, glossy golden eyes widening.

Drip. Drop.

The teen striding over didn't have to know, he didn't have to know, not when she was...well...she was supposed to be a hero, right? The weight of her dirty deed made the sky fall upon her shoulders. Yes, a hero. How could a hero kill someone in cold blood? It was not right and most certainly not okay.

What was wrong with her?

The dripping stopped. (Y/n) couldn't breathe, the air filling her lungs burning. Blood dripped from her hands, hit the pavement in red rims. In the alleyway, a young girl appeared over the dead body. She flashed in and out like a video played on a scratched CD.

White hair. She flashed out. Red eyes. She flashed out. Terrified cries. The girl disappeared as if she had never been there in the first place.

(Y/n) blankly stared at the body. The events of only moments ago blurred together into one, as if her mind simply knew it was too much. The touch that made her skin craw, the scent of blood forever engraved in her mind, and the girl who was nothing more than an apparition.

Kai walked over to (Y/n) and pulled out a disposable wet napkin. "Was that you?" He sounded casually irritated, as if this were mere roadkill forgotten to the side of the freeway. "Here, you should wipe yourself down." When (Y/n) did not move, a frown fell upon Kai's face. He sent the body a grimace and took her hand in his. The sticky blood stained the napkin a rusty red.

"Did he do anything to you?"

Silence.

"The only one who could have killed him is you."

Silence.

"Let's go home, Oyaji is waiting."

Oyaji. Where was he? All (Y/n) wanted was to see him right now. Where was he when she needed him? Tears pricked the edges of her eyes as she numbly nodded. Guilt pressed against her heart, filled its depths with an iciness that left her sore and numb. She reached out a hand to Kai's, only to fall short. What was this hesitation, this stutter in her step?

It was silent. Too silent for the aftermath of a murder in the name of justice.

---

(Y/n) awoke with a start and bolted upright. She groggily observed her surroundings, searching for Kai, the car, and the scent of blood that had tainted her nose. She recalled the warm arms of her Oyaji, the angry talk between the Yakuza members about that so-called teacher, and the tension so thick it was suffocating.

From the corner of her eye, (Y/n) spotted a young man with pink hair, tattoos that kept making her think 'basketball', and a presence that sucked all the attention of a room. The amount of power Akaza possessed was immense. With just a single look, (Y/n) stilled. He knelt by her futon and she tensed. "Good evening, princess," he playfully said. "I was wondering when you'd finally wake up."

(Y/n) swallowed thickly. The touch of that man against her skin made everything itch and crawl like worms were on her skin. "H-how," (Y/n) cursed the weak crack in her voice, "how long have I been sleeping?" Akaza placed his cheek in his hand, that teasing smile of his faltering. "Did you have a nightmare?"

His tone could almost be considered mocking, but (Y/n) knew better. The way his brows knitted and the softness in his voice was different. Softer, almost. She pursed her lips tight with a silent shake of her head. "Why do you ask?" A sense of defeat leaked into her voice. Although her voice was as flat as she could keep it, Akaza was perceptive. Too perceptive.

"You look upset," he simply said. "Why?" Upset was an understatement, Akaza would place it as 'disturbed'. No one had come into the home save for him and (Y/n) (it wasn't like he was dumb enough to allow a random traveler to set foot on his territory) yet she looked like she was being held at gunpoint (and not because of him).

(Y/n) curled into the blankets, eyes downcast and sad. "It's stupid." she admitted. "And I don't think you'd understand. Why would you care anyway?"

"I want to know more about you." Akaza sounded so earnest. "Explain to me, what has you so bothered?"

The last bit of logic (Y/n) clung to fell from her arms. She was already living with a demon, what more could come besides death? A part of her begged to cling to the hope that home wasn't so impossible. But it was naive. Stupid. She already knew deep down that there was no home to turn to.

A frown pulled to the edges of (Y/n)'s lips. "A...a few years ago," she steadied her wavering voice, "my teacher tried to..."

The truth was there clear as day. What happened happened and the past could not be changed. (Y/n) swallowed hard.

"My teacher from school turned out to be a paedophile and a mass murderer. It's...stupid of me to think about it when it happened a long time ago." The warmth of the blankets offered no true comfort. They were nothing but lifeless pieces of fabric, nothing like the comforting arms of her Oyaji.

Akaza's expression was unreadable. He pursed his lips tightly, eyes all far away and distant as his expression shifted. Angry to questioning, questioning to worried, then worried to anger once again. He looked like he was thinking of someone. "There is nothing stupid about someone so disgusting," his voice lowered an octave, "did you kill him?"

A chill ran down (Y/n)'s spine. She didn't want to think about how Akaza would have handled the situation if he were in her shoes. "I did, but...I don't really remember how." That was a half truth and Akaza seemed to sense it.

The angry contortion of his face slowly eased. He sighed, as if to calm himself. "It's not stupid if something like that bothers you," he said. "I may be a demon, but that doesn't mean I don't understand what you're talking about. Unlike others of my kind, I understand honour and respect. What you did was hand him what he deserved."

Akaza thought of the annoying, overly sweet smile of his superior. It made his blood boil. "There's this demon I know who acts similarly to how you described that man. He isn't so explicit, but definitely someone to stay away from. Upper Moon Two, Douma is his name."

A darkness passed over Akaza's eyes. They seemed to glow eerily bright. "If I could, I would challenge him to another Blood Battle."

(Y/n) cautiously studied the side of his angry face. The lantern's light flickered across his pale skin like moonlight. "Why don't you challenge Douma?"

"I'm not strong enough." The contortion of his face fell into bitter despair. For a moment, (Y/n) wondered if that was regret leaking into his eyes. Akaza was worn, as if the thin ties wrapping him to reason begged to snap under the weight on his shoulders. (Y/n) slowly sat up. "What is it like being Upper Moon Three?"

Akaza's gaze flickered to (Y/n)'s. He stared for a while, wondering why she had suddenly forsaken her fear. Maybe he'd indulge in her genuine curiosity just this once. "I've been Upper Moon Three for centuries," he said. "There is nothing to it besides serving that man."

"Kibutsuji Muzan?"

"Yes," Akaza said with a slow nod. It was a wonder how (Y/n), a random nobody, knew His name. Judging by her movements, there was no way she was a demon slayer, much less a swordsman. But how else did she know that? Who exactly was this girl? Akaza shifted on the tatami mats, adjusting to sit his numb legs in a criss-cross. "What were you doing out there alone?" he inquired.

The question was innocent, good-natured even. But (Y/n) didn't want to recall. The scent of iron, the screech of a car, and the tears cascading down her face as Kai apologised over and over...

That wasn't something she wanted to remember. Then there was the man, the one who followed her to these lands. He tried to kill her. Why didn't he kill her? Because (Y/n) was quicker. Oh, gods, the memories came rushing back in a flash of faint colour. But they would not falter, they would not disappear.

A sickening churn in (Y/n)'s stomach made her want to hurl. It was suddenly like her first kill when she was only a tiny girl small enough for Kai to gather in his arms. That day, he had been so sick he could barely move. The alleyway they were forced to sleep in for the night didn't do him any good, and some group of no-name thugs came with knives and Quirks easily used for torture.

None of them had laid a hand on Kai that day because (Y/n) killed them. She killed them and she remembered wanting to crawl away and hide.

Today was different. (Y/n) wasn't a small child who didn't know her right from left. She had a conscious train of thought, a mind more advanced than her age, and a sense of reason. Where was that sense of reason? (Y/n) gripped the blankets into a fist. "I killed him." The words were like fish bones stuck in her throat. "I killed that man in the forest." A strange aura fell over the room. Warm, understanding, yet confused and almost...angry. (Y/n)'s shoulders tensed.

This aura wasn't hers, but Akaza's. He sat in front of her, still as an ice sculpture. "Why do you sound upset?" He was almost close enough for their foreheads to touch. "That man tried to kill you." (Y/n)'s stomach felt full yet empty at the same time. She swallowed hard. "You saw?"

"I was just passing when I heard screaming." he said, shuffling a step back. "I was curious. When I got there, I saw that man stab you."

Of course Akaza was a bystander, he was a demon with no business in the affairs of the fleeting beings called humans. The scent of blood must have attracted him. A part of (Y/n) had to admit she was thankful, because it it weren't for him, she would still be outside, likely frost-bitten and close to death. Yet...he was a demon. Surely he would finish her off before the morn.

The intensity of Akaza's persimmon eyes softened. "You're not a demon yet have powers. Is that what your 'Quirk' is?" (Y/n) frowned. She didn't like how nosy he was being. "Why are you asking me this?"

A small smirk that could have been called a smile rose to Akaza's lips as he shrugged casually. "I did see someone's limbs explode from the single touch of a human girl. Don't you think that's enough to pique one's interest?" Whether Akaza's interest was piqued or not didn't matter to (Y/n). She needed to know how long she had been here, where she was, and if getting home could be considered achievable. "That doesn't matter," her voice turned cold, "how long have I been asleep?"

"Four days." The shock flashing across (Y/n)'s face made Akaza laugh. He stood and motioned for her to follow him to the kitchen. "What's there to be concerned about, Wonder Girl? It's not like you have anywhere to go."

That isn't true.

(Y/n) had a family. A plan for the future. A dream and a hope and hopeless aspirations. Her tense silence made Akaza pause. The teasing smile slipped off his lips and he frowned a little. "Unless you do?" (Y/n) crawled out of bed and stretched her stiff limbs, eyes numb and sad. "It doesn't matter, does it?"

But it did. Kai's pleas echoed in the back of her mind like a broken record. Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay awake. His tears, the ones he always refused to show the world, had trailed down his face as he held (Y/n) close, promising that she would be okay. Kai had his Quirk, so why wouldn't it be? But then the world faded, and Kai's protective embrace disappeared.

He was gone. She was alone.

The ache in (Y/n)'s sore limbs numbed compared to the cold pangs in her heart. She half-expected to wake up in her cosy room. Kai would shout at her to hurry up and eat breakfast even though they weren't late for school, then their Oyaji would swing around and greet them with a pat on the head and a warm, loving smile. And then Hari would stop by later in the day, practically attached to Kai at the hip.

(Y/n) wanted to go home, she wanted to be with her family.

"Sorry," she politely muttered. "What did you say?" Akaza made his way to the kitchen, (Y/n) following distantly behind. "You should eat." He gently set a bowl of hot rice soup on the kotatsu table. An egg sat on top, where rolling steam fell over it. "I made this not too long ago. It was in a cookbook I found upstairs in one of the late tenant's rooms. A very simple recipe, although I can't tell if I made it correctly due to my lack of ability to stomach human food."

(Y/n) sat down and blankly stared at the bowl. The thought of eating made bile threaten to rise in her throat as she picked up the spoon. Akaza couldn't have poisoned it when it was easier to snap her neck, but that didn't mean there wasn't a risk. He sat across from her, persimmon eyes patient and calm as he waited. And waited. And waited.

Akaza raised his brows, tilting his head to the side. "Why aren't you eating? Do you not eat this type of food?" His question held a subtle innocence that snapped (Y/n)'s gaze to his. Was he being serious? That patient tone, the way he waited, there had to be something else behind it. If Kai were here, he would have scolded (Y/n) until she got tired of his voice and did what he wanted.

But Akaza? He was a demon with so much more patience. Consideration.

"I like zosui," (Y/n) said. "But I don't feel like eating."

"You have to, or else you will lose strength and get sick." Akaza reasoned. "Your food is getting cold." There weren't any alternative options and he sure as heck wasn't allowing (Y/n) to leave the table on an empty stomach. Despite that, he was everything gentle and oh, so patient.

(Y/n) said a quiet 'itadakimasu' and hesitantly took a bite. The rice soup was bland, with only the egg's runny yolk as a flavouring. But it was better that way. If it were robust, then (Y/n) was sure she would have thrown it all up. Akaza waited in silence as she ate. He observed the exhaustion reflecting on her sullen face and there was something about her that struck him as odd.

The fierce, ice cold eyes of gold he met only four days ago had melted, leaving only a hollowness that made Akaza puzzled. "What brought you into the forest? You were covered in blood." he noted. "I wiped down your face and hands the other day, but wasn't able to do much about your coat."

(Y/n) glared down at her coat with a scowl. She unzipped it and cast it into a corner of the room with a shake of her head. "I see. Thank you...I suppose." Akaza stared at the jacket with a raised brow. Was she afraid of blood? No, he smelled no fear, only anger and bitterness.

"It's dirty." (Y/n) vaguely explained. "I'll clean it later." She finished the soup and sharply set it down with a quiet 'thank you'. Akaza placed his elbow on the table and set his cheek in his hand. "I've never seen clothes or heard a dialect like yours. Where are you from?" (Y/n) adjusted the cuffs of her woolen sweater. Under Akaza's gaze, she felt small and dumb. His incredible intelligence was dizzying and he seemed to pick up on every little thought that ran through her mind.

Was she that easy to read?

"I'm not from here," (Y/n) bitterly said. "It's hard to explain." Akaza passively nodded, as if he could understand what made it so difficult to explain. The lack of trust, the lack of knowledge between them--that was the rift that separated two worlds. "You are bothered by the fact that you are far from home, so you'd rather not think about it? I see."

(Y/n) made an odd face. His calmness overshadowed the gratifying power he omitted, and that? It made (Y/n) want to trust him. Was that okay? Was any of this okay? Her nausea returned in the tense silence, and by the way Akaza watched her, she knew he could sense it.

The blood. The scent of iron. The tears. Oh, how could she be so selfish to forget? How could she block out the face of her dear, elder brother?

Kai. Was he okay? Knowing him, he blamed everything on himself. As the elder brother, he saw it as his responsibility. If (Y/n) could, she'd rip through space and time to get back home. For him. For her Oyaji who worried too much. For Eri-chan who was too young to even go to school. For Hari whom would be left alone.

"(Y/n)," Akaza suddenly said. "What will you do now that you're here? It is clear you have nowhere else to go, but you have yet to make a decision." She fiddled with her hands, gaze slowly meeting his. "Currently, I only have one option, and that's to stay here. Despite that, I'm sure you wouldn't choose that since I'm a human. You said this was the middle of nowhere, so even if I did leave, well..."

(Y/n) saw the dirty streets she and Kai slept on, the rats and mice that crawled and scurried by her feet, the sickness that would plague them every changing season. It was going to happen again. Oh, gods. Gods. The filth, the dirt. She didn't want to think, didn't want to relive the struggle of--

"I won't kick you out, Wonder Girl." Akaza said. "But if you're staying, I have a proposition." He smiled, persimmon eyes flashing in the flickering flames of the stove. "Train with me and I'll teach you what I know. Food and lodging provided, it's not a bad deal. I'm curious about you so I wouldn't mind seeing you grow into someone who can actually fight more than a single man. Demons, after all, don't have much to do in our free time."

He had to be joking. That wasn't just a not-so-bad deal, it was an absolute steal too good to be true. "What are you getting out of this?" (Y/n) stiffly inquired. "There is nothing to gain from housing a human besides your own entertainment."

Akaza's smile grew into a smirk. "That is true, but you are more than meets the eye. The fighting spirit you give off is faint, yet you have the eyes of a warrior. I saw you fight that man. He tried to kill you, so you only gave him back what he deserved despite not wanting to dirty your hands in the first place. It was a glorious battle to the death despite your struggle, and those last words--'At least I know I'm sending you off to hell'. That was beautiful!"

There was a dark glow in his eyes, a dark glint that made (Y/n)'s stomach lurch. "You're physically a weak human, but you interest me."

(Y/n) was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Akaza was a demon who spared her life and took her in, but the reason behind it was far from noble.

'You interest me' wasn't a good incentive. Once all interest faded, then what? Would he cast (Y/n) aside? Let her freeze in the woods overnight? A frown pulled at her lips and she sighed. "I don't have a choice regardless." As long as I survive. "We have a deal, demon." I'm associating with a murderer, but it's not like I'm any better than him. "When do we start?"

"Tonight."

Taisho Era Secrets!

-Akaza originally planned to dump (Y/n) by the roadside for someone to find, but then he thought better of it once she woke up.
-Akaza thinks (Y/n) has a lot of hidden potential. He wants her to harness it and become stronger (and maybe become a demon!).
-Akaza can't figure out why he can't abandon (Y/n). He wonders if it's because she reminds him of someone, but then that makes him angry and he abandons that thought to cool himself down.
-The reason why the futon (Y/n) slept in was so clean was because it was the one Akaza used.
-The abandoned house is actually Akaza's hideout during the day when he isn't a wandering nomad in search of strong demon slayers

Chapter Text

-Started 27 Nov. 2021, but published 23 June 2022
Kai is older than you by five and a half-ish years.

At the age of six, Chisaki (Y/n) had been taken off the streets by a kind, old man. He treated (Y/n) and her brother like they were his own grandchildren. They were fed, bathed, clothed, and taught in a respectable manner despite the circumstances--despite the fact that the Chisaki siblings were nobodies.

At the age of seven, (Y/n) finally understood who the old man was: a crime lord too tired to thoroughly engage in the usual 'white-collar' crimes. Whatever that meant. He didn't seem all too interested in being as hands-on as in the past. Oyaji had three children to take care of now (and he was fine with that). There was nothing more satisfying than living comfortably and seeing his family grow.

By the age of eight, (Y/n) had stuck close to her brother's side, learning and observing the work he would eventually pick up as the heir. It was a dirty business filled with crime, yet somehow, Oyaji refused to engage in the dealing of drugs, or 'adult entertainment'. It was ingrained in Kai and (Y/n) never to mess with drugs because they were 'a poison that benefited only those who sold it'.

When (Y/n) turned ten, everything changed. It began on a cold December at the cusp of the New Year. The sun had barely shone over the horizon, but it was time to head to school. (Y/n) rose to her alarm clock with a long sigh. She quickly dressed, taking care to keep herself looking smart and tidy. When she made her way to the kitchen, savoury smells of soy sauce and egg filled her nose.

"Good morning, (Y/n)." oyaji greeted. He turned off the stove and motioned to a plate at the table tucked in the corner. Kai lazily yawned from his seat. "Hi."

(Y/n) greeted everyone with a groggy wave and a noise in the back of her throat. It was too early to speak to anyone. She turned to lazily grab a bowl of rice. When she made her way to the stove, the Old Man helped place a fried egg over her rice with a spoon of soy sauce and a sprinkle of sesame seeds.

(Y/n) slid into the seat beside Kai and their oyaji sat across from them. "I have some business to take care of this week." he announced. "I'll be back by Saturday evening, so until then, you both take care of each other." (Y/n) mustered a nod as Kai muttered a brief 'okay'. The Old Man occasionally had business across the other side of Japan. Whatever it was that was so important, (Y/n) would never know.

As long as the Old Man didn't run into trouble, she was fine with seeing him leave. It would only be a little while. Then, she could see him all she wanted when he came home. "Kai," Oyaji said, "watch your sister while I'm gone. Take care of her, you're fifteen now. And cook in the morning too, don't wake up just to read a book." Kai nodded in understanding. When the Oyaji spoke, his word was law, and for good reason too.

"I understand." Kai said. "What exactly are you going to be doing?" Oyaji waved him off. "I'll tell you when I come back." (Y/n) spooned a bit of rice into her mouth. When she finished her food, she went to wash the dishes. Cool water splashed between her fingers as Kai and Oyaji discussed business--business (Y/n) wasn't needed in. Her hands were not clean, but her mind, etched with information and pictures of world, spoke of years she didn't need to live so early.

"It's almost six thirty," (Y/n) noted. "We should leave." Oyaji ruffled (Y/n)'s dark locks affectionately. "I will see you both Saturday." He did the same to Kai. "Take care of each other."

The ride to school was uneventful. In the warm car sheltering the siblings from the winter chill, they were nice and toasty and unfortunately sleepy. Hari sat beside Kai, half asleep. He snored lightly.

"You're so grumpy today." (Y/n) remarked, kicking Kai's leg. She watched the scenery flash by as he yawned. "I want to sleep, why else would I be grumpy? It's Monday, who in the world likes Monday?" (Y/n) snorted. "Me too, but if I don't talk enough, then I'll fall asleep."

"Here," Kai handed her his water bottle. Even with the heat blasted on high, it remained half frozen solid (that's what Kai got for leaving it in the car overnight). "Cold water keeps me awake." (Y/n) took the bottle and pressed her cheek to its surface. "This is nice, but it makes me so relaxed I think I'll sleep anyway." A huff left Kai's lips. "That's as far as I can help, Imouto. That's a 'you' issue now."

Hari yawned wide. "I'll gladly take it if you don't want it, (Y/n)." She handed it to him, chuckling lightly. "Not sure it's gonna help."

The car came to a stop. (Y/n) got out with a wave to the two boys. Kai and Hari were a juniour high students, so they went to a different school not too far from here. They waved back. As (Y/n) turned towards the gates, the swerve of a car hit her ears. Everything happened so suddenly. The car barreled out of control, veering frantically to the side and straight towards (Y/n).

Cold. That was the first feeling that erupted in (Y/n)'s bones. Misty white clouds left her lips as she stared up into the gray skies of winter. Passersby stopped to crowd the scene, some honking their cars while others watched in a stunned sense of fear. A strong pair of arms held fast and tight to her body. Something...something inside her shifted, and then her numb limbs began to explode in pain. Spots danced in (Y/n)'s vision as she turned to look up.

"Don't close your eyes." Kai commanded, cheeks red from the cold. "Hari called 119 already, they're coming soon, okay?" (Y/n) weakly leaned towards Kai's warm chest. She didn't want to hear his loud voice, it was scary when he got angry.

"Stay awake!" Panic bubbled in Kai's throat. For some reason, (Y/n) wasn't getting better. She looked paler than before, the colour drained from her cheeks. Was there anything more he could do with his Quirk? Reassembling (Y/n)'s broken bones, vessels, and flesh wasn't enough. But why? Why when his Quirk always worked before?

There must be something else Kai couldn't see. A broken part, or perhaps internal bleeding? He placed a hand over (Y/n)'s stomach and activated his Quirk. She violently coughed, a sea of blood dripping down her chin. No, no, what happened?

Hari knelt beside Kai, eyes wide. "Why is your Quirk not working?" Kai could only shake his head. He didn't know what to do and that scared him. If he didn't know what to do, then how was he to help? Kai took a look at the red coating his bare hands and then the gloss like ice over (Y/n)'s eyes.

She would die from blood loss long before the ambulance showed up. If he didn't do something, anything, then the blood would forever stain his hands. Kai brushed dark strands of hair away from (Y/n)'s freezing face. This was filthy, dirty work, but for his sister? Oh, Kai would do anything.

"Don't--don't close your eyes." He cursed the faint crack in his voice. "You have to stay awake." He placed his index and middle finger to (Y/n)'s cold wrist, where a faint pulse drummed against his warm hand. He pulled out a handkerchief and blotted at the blood tainting (Y/n)'s delicate face.

"It's going to be okay," Kai heaved out a shaky breath, "your Nii-chan won't leave you."

An onlooking mother covered her mouth and burst into tears, terrified sobs so distant to Kai's ears. "(Y/n)," his golden eyes were the only source of light, "you have to stay with me, too. Fight!"

Chisaki (Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open and closed. The nagging want to sleep and wait this whole thing tempting. Haunting. It would make things easier, but Kai was begging her. She had to stay awake, for him, for Hari, and for herself. If she fell asleep, there would be no telling whether she'd wake up again. But oh, did everything burn and flare up in pain. It was as if someone had frozen every limb to her last finger, where the merciless chill of frost bit away at her body.

(Y/n)'s breaths were shallow. Pain filled her system and dots danced in her eyes with each deep breath. "That's it," Kai said, voice wavering like the wind. Tears threatened to blind his vision the longer he watched.

I will see you both Saturday. Take care of each other.

If (Y/n) died, would it be his fault? He could already see Oyaji's face filled with rage, filled with anguish, all because he couldn't protect his dear little sister. "I'm sorry," Kai whispered with a shake of his head. (Y/n) wasn't going to die, she couldn't because she was strong. So strong. Resilient. The best sister he could ever ask for.

Kai wasn't fifteen anymore, but that eleven year old stuck in the dirty streets of a bad city. (Y/n) was six, with only the clothes on her back and a (f/c) blanket she forced Kai to share with her. December had been unkind all those years ago, with icy snow and strong gusts of wind. There were no heroes to save them, but at least the rats had finally died from the cold.

"Nii-chan!" (Y/n)'s voice couldn't have been any sweeter. Despite the cold and lack of warmth provided by her thin clothes, she looked happy, maybe a little too happy. Kai raised a brow as (Y/n) skidded to a stop in the late December snow. "What happened to your face?" he grumbled, rubbing at her cheeks with his sleeve. "You're all dirty, again. Did you fall on your way here?" (Y/n) ignored his comment in favour of holding up a plastic bag. "Doesn't matter, look."

Kai jabbed a finger at the Kanji printed over the bag. "I can't read that, what is it? You didn't steal it, right?" The grin on (Y/n)'s lips only widened. "I'm not a petty thief. I was passing by that chicken place near main street when Haku-san gave me this. He hopes we're okay." A scoff left Kai's lips. A random person showing a simple act of generosity? "I don't buy it. Why would someone willingly give you food if not to poison you? There's nothing in it for the other party."

"Maybe this will change your mind." (Y/n) opened the bag and pulled out a paper carton. A savoury scent of honey and garlic hit his nose as (Y/n) handed him a plastic fork. "It's fried chicken!" she excitedly exclaimed. "There's rice too in here, isn't that great?" A frown pulled at the edges of Kai's lips. He still couldn't believe their luck. It had been half a week since either of them had a proper meal, only ever feeding on the scraps gathered after the bakeries and cafes closed (they threw out food they couldn't sell throughout the day).

"Not poisoned?" Kai inquired, poking at the fried chicken cautiously. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, that grin sliding off her lips in favour of a frown to match his own. "Either way, it's eat or die. Itadakimasu." She stuffed some food into her mouth.

"Hey--"

"It's good. Your choice, Nii-chan, starve or enjoy this wonderful chicken with me." The crunch of the chicken couldn't have been anymore satisfying than its taste. Along with the hot side of rice, (Y/n) was content. She shoved the carton towards Kai. "Just be thankful that Haku-san gave us food." she said. "Now eat, or else it'll get cold."

And that was how the Chisaki siblings found themselves sat on a park bench in nothing more than their summer clothes and a single, tattered blanket. "You know," (Y/n) said, "I'm glad you're my brother." Kai knitted his brows together, gaze falling to a tree on his left. "Oh really?" His cheeks grew warm, it was the first time someone had complimented him in a while. "Why are you glad I'm your brother?"

"Because I know you'll never leave me." Kai blinked before bonking (Y/n) on the head. "What are you talking about? Why would I leave you?" She let out a long, annoying whine. "That was a compliment, you dodo bird!"

"Who are you calling a dodo bird?"

"You!" (Y/n) stuck her tongue out at him. "Meanie!" An irritated chuckle left Kai's lips. He raised his hands and poked at her sides with an evil grin. "For that, you'll have to face my mighty wrath!" He took the carton of chicken, set it on the bench, and tickled (Y/n) mercilessly. Her giggles echoed in the quiet of winter, serene and joyful to the chilly nip of its cold.

"Stop it!" she laughed. "I'm--I'm sorry!"

"Never!" Kai exclaimed. "You're say the dumbest things sometimes, I swear!"

The food kept their bellies warm and hearts full with the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would get better. As (Y/n) smiled under the flurries of snow, Kai couldn't have been more content. Life was hard, but as long as they had each other, they would pull through. He knew it deep in his bones.

The memories came flooding back to Kai in a whirl of tears. That December day was just like today. The same snow, the same sky, the same two people on the same Earth. Why were they able to live through that, only to be torn apart by this?

Kai wouldn't stand for such sacrilege. He placed a hand to (Y/n)'s cheeks as a snowflake landed on her red nose. "Don't close your eyes!" He was losing her. "(Y/n), please!"

Life was hard, but as long as they had each other, as long as they were together, it would be okay. It had to be. It had to. "(Y/n)..." Tears trailed down Kai's cheeks and froze against (Y/n)'s ashen face. Was her pulse getting weaker? Why did her eyes keep closing? "Get up, you're fine, you can move. What will Oyaji say when I have to tell him this? He'll be...do you know how he'll react...?"

How could Kai ever go back to normal if not without his dear, younger sister? "And Hari! Hari's waiting for the ambulance right now! (Y/n), you have to stay awake!" Her eyes had already shut, those liquid golden hues hidden under snow covered lashes. "Come on, you can't leave me...!"

A woman reached out to place a hand on Kai's shoulder. He slapped her away. "Don't touch me!" She only frowned sadly. "Young man, your sister--"

Kai ignored her. He turned back to (Y/n), only to pause in horror. (Y/n) was gone--literally. Her body had disappeared from his arms, and if not for the crimson stains across the road, Kai would have thought no one had been there in the first place.

A teenager bundled tightly in scarves dramatically pointed to the spot (Y/n) had been seconds ago. "Did you guys see her disappear, too?!" A mumble of 'yes' and a few swears rippled through the crowd. Their voices were far away, a mere echo of the source of attention. Kai stared at spot (Y/n) had laid in moments ago as snow blanketed it softly. A gust of wind kissed the sides of his face, as if to apologise for what could not be undone.

"You know," (Y/n) had said, "I'm glad you're my brother." Kai didn't think much of her words at the time. There were more important things on his mind, like surviving another frosty night, or fending off criminals who would dare mess with them. Looking back on it, Kai wished he had said something different.

"Oh really?"

What a stupid response.

"Why are you glad I'm your brother?"

(Y/n) had smiled after. Kai thought it was out of happiness or content, yet in those liquid golden eyes, he finally understood. It was not joy, or satisfaction, but fear. Of dying alone in the cold, of losing the only person she cared for. "Because," --(Y/n) forced the brightest smile she could muster-- "I know you'll never leave me."

Ironic. Kai could stay by his sister's side as promised, yet she couldn't do the same. But this was his fault, wasn't it? If only he had done what Oyaji had asked ('Take care of each other'), then none of this would have happened. If only Kai had been quicker. If only Kai had known what to do. If only he had a gosh dang plan. Tears rolled down his cherry-tinted cheeks.

"You can't leave." His hoarse voice was lost to the wind. "(Y/n), you can't leave me."

Chapter Text

The winter chill bit at the back of (Y/n)'s neck. She stood in the middle of the dark forest, bathed in silvery moonlight. Clouds lazily passed overhead and whenever they stopped to hide the moon, darkness fell. The only light omitting throughout the tall trees was the shine of a single lantern propped upon a steady rock.

Akaza's persimmon eyes gleamed in the darkness. It was near pitch black without the moonlight, save for his luminescent gaze that fell upon her stance. "After over three hundred years of training, I can say I've learned a lot about martial arts. I've tried many styles and yours is not familiar to me. You're clearly not from here and your style only leaves me puzzled."

A frown made its way to (Y/n)'s lips. She relaxed her position, opting to kicking a pile of snow out of the way. "I'm from the future, Akaza."

His eyes widened. "The future? How is that possible? I understand that your clothing is far less...appropriate for this age, but I never concluded that you'd be a time traveler of sorts."

(Y/n) brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear with a shrug. "In the future, over ninety percent of the population have a Quirk. Mine is Overhaul, the ability to take apart and put things back together." A flash of realisation sparked in Akaza's eyes. He stood a little straighter, leaned a little closer. "So that was how you killed that man? By activating 'Overhaul'?"

A numb nod was all (Y/n) could offer. She didn't want to think about the blood splashing through the air, the scream echoing in her ears, or the last words she gave to the man who sent her here by accident. It was a simple miscalculation on his part that triggered his last moments on Earth.

A chilly breeze passed, carrying swirling snow in flurries of white. Akaza took a few steps forward, stooping low to meet (Y/n)'s gaze. Her heart pounded as she met his intense eyes engraved with the Kanji for 'Upper Moon Three'.

"What's with the long face?" His nose nearly touched her own and his voice deepened by an octave. "Being able to protect yourself is a blessing many do not have. You clearly have experience fighting, else you wouldn't have been able to dodge the knife. I can tell you've killed, you have that look in your eyes."

The intensity of his presence sent a shiver down (Y/n)'s spine.

"Your hesitation nearly led to your own death. I don't understand why someone with so much potential would want to hold back. Your Quirk is incredible, I'm sure you'll be able to reach tremendous lengths if you pushed your limits."

In the dim lantern light, shadows licked the sides of his face in long arcs of darkness. (Y/n) steeled herself to avoid breaking from his gaze. Snow crunched as Akaza took a knee. Gods, why wouldn't he just leave the topic alone? It was unbearable, having a demon lecture her about self-defense and morals. What would he know when he ate people for fun?

Akaza stared up at (Y/n), persimmon eyes searching for what could not be said. For a moment, it was only the soft breeze, the darkness, and the flicker of the lantern filling the abyss of silence.

He searched (Y/n)'s golden eyes once more, as if the answers he wanted would write themselves before him. "Why do you tremble?" His voice was softer than the cold wind tickling her cheek. It barely came above a whisper, so quiet even winter's silence could not compete. "Why are you sad?" He could hear the way her breaths had gone shallow, see how tight she clenched her fists in her pocket, and sense the sorrow filling her heart. It made his shoulders heavy with an invisible weight.

This was not something a demon should feel, not something Akaza should feel. (Y/n) wondered how he could tell when he was but a demon, a man-eating, greedy demon who catered to his own selfish interests. She pulled her sweaty hands from her pockets and held them tight at her sides.

Growing with the Yakuza taught (Y/n) many things: how to keep a cold facade, how to command the attention of a room, how to make people respect you, and how to survive around those who were bigger. Somehow, Akaza made her feel so small. Inferior. It made her insides burn, her throat dry. "What are you talking about? I'm not sad." She played it off with a harsh sigh. "Anyway, you said I needed to improve my technique, right? How about that?"

Akaza stayed on one knee in the snow for a good minute, thinking hard. "Alright," he finally said, dusting snow from his trousers, "we'll continue. I still want to know about what the future is like, though. Be ready to answer some questions, Wonder Girl."

---

Dodging was a useless game against Akaza. He possessed infinite speed, strength, and (seemingly) knowledge. Every second (Y/n) spared to think was a moment lost to his attacks. He was fast. Faster than any human because he was, well, a demon.

"You're...too fast..." (Y/n) gasped out. She leaned over her knees, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead. Akaza's brows raised in false shock. "Really? I didn't know that." He let out a bright laugh, fangs gleaming in the lantern's light. "It's only been an hour and I've gone extremely easy on you. Really though, I'm a bit impressed you lasted this long considering your current physical ability."

(Y/n) reset her stance. She bolted forward and threw a punch. Akaza caught her fist with ease, a sparkle of mirth in his luminescent eyes. "Too slow," a grin lit up his lips, "you'll have to work on that, Wonder Girl." Moonlight ripped apart the dark overcast, spilling over the snowy lands like a spotlight.

This was a dance and the world was the stage.

Her show, one she had planned since day one, had been cancelled. The dream of becoming a hero, a someone who offered help and security, was fleeting. (Y/n) saw the TV bright with colour, heard cheers that blared loud, and felt the relief of another job well done. Heroes had always been cool, something she aspired to be even with hands dyed red in blood.

The truth finally settled after the shock. She had known, but had it reached her heart? (Y/n) was not going home, ever. Her Oyaji whom she loved so dearly, her brother who always had her back, and Hari her best friend. They would never be seen or heard from again.

Akaza flipped (Y/n) over his shoulder. She tumbled in the packed snow, rolling over on her side with a groan. "How am I supposed to spar with you when I can barely hold my own?" she grumbled. A playful grin danced upon Akaza's lips. His warm hand found her own and he pulled her to her feet with ease. "Spar?" He laughed. "This was just the assessment."

If not for the whirling thoughts bombarding (Y/n)'s head, she would have felt embarrassed. Akaza motioned for her to come forward. "Your stance is clean but too stiff for an actual fight. When you do this..." (Y/n) pursed her lips intently. She had to focus or else she'd miss the important points of critique.

The corrections were great, really. Akaza didn't insult (Y/n) for her lack of knowledge, instead only taking the time to nod in encouragement when she got something right. And to be honest, he was a great teacher. He had patience, a straight-to-the-point mindset, and didn't dare smack her if she didn't understand the first time. Even then, (Y/n)'s mind wandered. She thought of her old sensei, the long afternoons spent in the olden dojo...

"Here," Akaza handed (Y/n) a gourd of water. "How are you feeling so far?" She took a greedy swig of water. "I'm okay. I just...I need to practice a lot more." Akaza was able to throw her down over fifty times in the span of zero point zero, zero, zero, zero, one seconds. 'A lot more' meant 'centuries' when her opponent had his whole lifespan to train.

Before the sun could touch the horizon, (Y/n) and Akaza called it quits for the night. Snow crunched under their feet, trees swayed in the passing gusts of wind. Akaza's gaze lingered on the side of her face bathed in silver rays. "You should put on your coat. Since you're sweating it's not good for you unless you plan to get sick."

(Y/n) raised a brow questioningly. "How would you know that?"

Well, Akaza didn't. The words had come out of his mouth before he could stop them. There was an odd pull in his gut and he took the coat out of (Y/n)'s arms. "Being a demon doesn't mean I'm stupid." he said with a teasing smirk. "But I'm sure you already know that. Humans are naturally susceptible to illness no matter how strong they are physically. Here--how do you close your coat?"

With a dead stare, (Y/n) hooked the zipper together and pulled it up. "Like this."

Akaza's eyes widened in awe. "So that's how it works? What is it? Show me again." (Y/n) upzipped her coat and zipped it again, the scratching filling the calming quiet of night. A toothy smile rose to Akaza's lips. "Can I try?"

(Y/n) shrugged. "Sure?"

The amount of awe filling Akaza's expression made her lips twitch into a minuscule smile. She snorted, golden eyes brimming with interest. Never would she have ever guessed that her days would lead up to this moment. "These are called 'zippers'," she explained. "They make buttoning or tying things easier. In the future, they're common and..."

Once the two arrived back at the house, (Y/n) took a long old-fashioned bath. She had to melt some snow for water, then boil it and toss it into a tub. It was a long, arduous process, but the final product was a match made in heaven after all that sweaty training.

A knock on the door made her bolt up in surprise. "Akaza?"

"I'm leaving a pair of clothes outside the door for when you're done."

Where the demon had gotten the clothes, (Y/n) didn't know. She deduced that he had to have stolen it, found it upstairs, or something else. Whichever one, she shelved the thought and finished bathing. After changing and drying her hair, she made her way to the kitchen.

It was silent, save for the whistling wind outside. (Y/n) lit a lantern and began opening the cabinets. She found two jars of pickled vegetables (assorted), a bag of rice, tea leaves, cups, bowls, utensils, pans, and spices. "Some of these must be from the former tenants..." she muttered. "What should we cook, Nii--"

(Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat. That was right, Kai was gone and she was alone. Alone. (Y/n) started up a fire, threw in the pickled vegetables, and fried them together with a few spices. She washed the rice next and left the pot over the fire. It was quiet. Too quiet in the cold home.

Softly, ever so sadly, she began to hum a song. Whenever she couldn't sleep, Oyaji would sing with that crinkly old voice of his. He'd gather her in his arms, bundle in a blanket, and rock from side to side. How (Y/n) missed her Oyaji. How she missed what could never be again.

Cold bit at (Y/n)'s heart, icicles that seemed to wrap around her very limbs with its frosty touch. She stirred the vegetables sadly. Suddenly, a familiar presence made the hair on her neck stand on end. (Y/n) straightened, gaze falling on the demon stood beside her.

"What are you cooking today?" inquired Akaza. "I can't tell if it's good since I've lost all taste for human food. Everything smells the same to me, but it all tastes disgusting. These are ingredients I found a few days ago." (Y/n) cautiously met his gaze, lips pressed thin. "You stole them?"

"I don't have money, so yes." he easily said. "The clothing I found upstairs. I washed them yesterday night since I thought you would need something clean to wear. You were covered in a lot of dried blood. The only thing I could really clean for you was your coat, but that was a lot of trouble in the dead of winter. It refused to dry quickly."

(Y/n) paused to stare. She studied Akaza's pale skin decorated with dark blue tattoos, then those luminescent eyes that glowed so fiercely in the dim light. Flames flickered across the kitchen, casting long, dark shadows against the walls. "Why go through all the trouble for a human?" she quietly inquired. "I understand you don't kill women, but...but how could I be worth your time? You're an Upper Moon."

The pan sizzled and the pot began to boil. "I apologise if that was too up front, sometimes I am told off for being too cold--"

"I like that about you." Akaza firmly said. "I like how you aren't afraid to speak your mind around someone like me. As for why I haven't killed you..." He paused, gaze distant. It was as if he, too, had no firm reason to do more than spare (Y/n)'s life. A sigh ran past his lips in a scoff. "Consider yourself lucky, I suppose."

(Y/n) allowed the fire to settle. She knelt beside it, turning a pair of chopsticks between her small fingers. "I must be one of the luckiest, then." There was no relief, no ounce of happiness that came with such a thought. It was true--she was lucky to be alive, but at what cost? At what fate she was bound to live?

The fire seemed to grow brighter. It blazed against the charcoal, popping and crackling ominously through the cold room. Shadows danced against the dark walls and the lanterns flickered. Akaza sat criss-cross, rested his arm against his knee and leaned a hand on his cheek. "What was life like for you in the future?"

(Y/n) pulled her (f/c) haori closer, free hand moving to stir the pot. "The earliest I remember was when I was living on the streets with my Nii-chan. He's older than me by five and a half years. We took care of each other but had to fight every now and then against thugs. In the future, Quirks are often abused, so people liked to use us as practice dummies."

"And what did you do to them?"

Something between a scoff, laugh, and cry left (Y/n)'s lips. "I killed them." she flatly answered. "Obviously, I tried avoiding that, but sometimes when there is no one to help and you're overwhelmed there's no way around it. In my time, we call people like that 'villains'. It's a derogatory term."

(Y/n)'s gaze fell to the crackling fire. She inhaled the savory scent of the food with a distasteful frown. It made her nauseous. "Anyway, we were taken in by a Yakuza leader. Oyaji has taken care of us since and I learned a thing or two about self-defense." A fond warmth filled her golden eyes that sparkled like snow under the moonlight. "Neither of us would have survived without him. He saved us."

The warmth in (Y/n)'s eyes made Akaza's heart swell. "I had a feeling there was something different about you. Killing looked like a natural reaction." He didn't understand how such feeling could blossom in his heart (care, was it?). He was a demon, not some human who tried to help people for kicks. And yet here he sat, listening to the human child as if his life depended on it. "Women can't become Yakuza leaders, can they?"

"They can," (Y/n) said. "But it's rare. In the future, society is divided between 'villains' and 'heroes'. You can probably tell what each means. I wanted to be a hero because I wanted to help people. If there was a chance to prevent others from becoming like my brother and I, I wanted to be that change. But now...well, you get it."

Sorrow flashed in her eyes, reflecting as bright as glass. (Y/n) should have stopped spilling her life story to a demon. She should have stayed quiet and done what could keep her alive. The words fell from her lips, falling and falling like sand through her fingers.

"I wanted to be something because I was nothing." She sounded so bitter, too bitter for a child. "My brother was the heir for the Shie Hassaikai, our family. As the daughter, I wasn't really supposed to be anything but a shadow. Everyone still respected me--it was Oyaji's command--but I didn't want to be forgotten. So I decided I wanted to be someone who helped others."

(Y/n) firmly moved a pan off the fire with a hard shake of her head. "I don't know if you'd understand that. Humans are beings that often dream, even when the odds are against us. I studied hard to get into the school I wanted, but now that I'm here it won't happen." She gave the pan a forceful stir and nearly dropped its contents. Akaza helped her balance it at the last second.

"Thanks."

"You almost burned yourself, be careful."

A sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she slowly set the pan down. "That wouldn't be the first time. I learned how to cook with my Nii-chan a while back." She frowned for a moment, eyes glossing over. "I suppose I'm telling you all this because there's no use, really. There's nothing left for me but to stay with you, and there's nothing I can offer but satisfaction to your curiosity."

Dinner was hard to swallow. Akaza sat across from (Y/n), still resting his cheek in his hand (it seemed to be a habit). He watched her every move, gaze lingering only to leave and then return with a newfound curiosity. The wind howled outside, rattling the window panes. "You don't act like how I thought human children would act. Whenever I do see them, they're usually whining after their parents or getting into petty fights with their peers. Is it because you grew up in the Yakuza?"

Ah, and here came the questions again. It continued on with inventions, technology, and the fate of demons in the future. (Y/n) steered clear of that (much to Akaza's frustration), rocking over it until she landed on the topic of Quirks. They were eerily similar to Blood Demon Arts--inhuman abilities that amplified abilities and skills.

"So nearly everyone has a Quirk?" Akaza's interest was almost cute. If not for his appearance, he could have been a considered a normal boy. He looked to be no older than eighteen, with a youthful face and a sparky attitude that kept the mood light and easy. "I can't imagine a time where everyone possessed inhuman abilities like demons. The fact that it's considered the norm after a long history of battles intrigues me. Do you think there is a connection with demons to Quirks?"

(Y/n) could only shrug. She never studied the sciences and didn't intend to. That was more of Kai and Hari's thing, after all. "Akaza, I don't mean to be rude, but do you remember anything about your human life?"

The straight-forward question made his lips curl into a smug smirk. "Wow, turning the tables already? It's only fair after you answered all my questions." He thought for a moment, wracking his brain. "I don't remember anything, but I do hate fireworks and the snow. They make my skin crawl, but not as much as weaklings." The persimmon tones of his eyes seemed to grow dangerously bright. He clenched a fist, the smirk ran away from his face. "The thought of being weak makes me sick to my stomach. I can't stand it."

These were dangerous waters, a line that stretched thin and tight. If (Y/n) dared push the matter further, would Akaza snap? Would he break his so-called morals and sink his fangs into her limbs? A quiet sigh suddenly escaped his lips, fist relaxing ever so carefully. "You're a special case, Wonder Girl."

She stiffened. Special? How special was he talking? Special, as in a rarity he wouldn't dare kill, or a pet to look after for the fun of it? Regardless, she was never 'special'. How could someone like her ever amount to the extraordinary when everything she worked for had been lost? Long nights studying, days trying to memorise useless information about the maths and sciences, etc. etc. etc...

"Although you couldn't hold a candle to my physical prowess and Blood Demon Art, you have untapped potential. Despite your fighting spirit remaining near nonexistent during our first meeting, I've noticed it fluctuate depending on your mood." He grinned, sharp fangs jutting past his lips. "Currently, your fighting spirit is pathetically low. You wouldn't be able to hurt a fly. I am sure tomorrow it will raise again, but like I said, it depends on your mood. In over three hundred years, I've never seen that once."

Whether that was a compliment or not, (Y/n) was left to wonder. She grimaced and took a long sip of tea to think. It didn't make sense how she, a plain girl, caught the attention of an Upper Rank. Like Akaza said, she was physically weak. Did that not make her the type of person he so clearly hated? She frowned to herself. "I am too lucky to be alive."

Akaza's brows raised, but he didn't say anything. It was a throwaway comment, a little thing he knew was not meant to be heard by anyone but (Y/n) herself.

After dinner, (Y/n) began to hum again. She laid in her futon, gazing up at the lantern's shadows dancing across the ceiling. Akaza hadn't left her side since dinner, remaining as a shadow through the early morning. "What song are you singing?"

(Y/n)'s gaze remained glued to the ceiling. "It's a lullaby my Oyaji used to sing when I was younger."

Akaza studied her as he had been for the whole night. He searched for the unsaid, lingering on the way (Y/n)'s eyes refused to close. She looked like she wanted to sleep with all her tossing and turning, yet in the end, couldn't. "Does my presence unnerve you?" he politely inquired. "I noticed that you're having trouble sleeping despite being exhausted."

The question took (Y/n) off guard and she sat up quickly, golden eyes wide. "I'm not bothered, Akaza." It was surprising to hear him ask when he had no reason to concern over such a weak thing like her. "I appreciate your consideration, though." She laid back down, head flopping against the pillow.

Cold. That had been the first feeling that erupted in (Y/n)'s bones.

"Don't close your eyes." Kai had commanded. "Hari called 119 already, they're coming soon, okay?" (Y/n) had weakly leaned towards his warm chest. She didn't want to hear his loud voice, it was scary when he got angry.

"Stay awake!" Kai had panicked; she heard it in his voice. "Stay awake!"

(Y/n) sat up again, rubbing at her eyes. She stared at the blanket wrapped over her legs so intricate and foreign. How could she sleep with those echoing words in her mind? How, when all she could think of, all she could see and hear, were the last of her Nii-chan?

Her absence would likely bring more pain than that car crash. But what was there to do? What was there to hope for when she was stuck in the past with a demon for a housemate? She had nothing left. All dreams had been wrought out from under her, stolen by the one man who accidentally sent her over here. He had died by her hand, an error that she should have avoided.

Killing made her into a bad person and she didn't want to be a bad person like Eri-chan's mother, or like those thugs who used to bully her and Kai, or her sensei who tried to touch her in all the wrong ways.

"You're worried about something," Akaza suddenly said. In (Y/n)'s time lost between what could have been and what was, she hadn't noticed him move. But maybe he had moved too fast for her to see. "Is it the dark? Many children are often bothered by that, or is it a nightmare?"

(Y/n) stared at her shaking hands. When had she begun to shiver? When had she begun to show such vulnerability to this demon?

Akaza seemed just as puzzled. He thought hard and long, tapped a hand to the tatami mats. "Is it okay if I touch you?" (Y/n) visibly blanched and he shook his head frantically. "Not like that," he reassured with a dismissive snort. "I promised I wouldn't eat you, and therefore I won't hurt you. I'll rephrase my question: Can I hold your hand?"

Had (Y/n) heard him right? 'Can I hold your hand'? What kind of demon would ever think up such nonsense? It was common knowledge, from what Oyaji read to her before bed, that demons ate humans. That was the law of nature, the law of their biological makeup. Despite Akaza's word, could she really trust it? He could easily swallow her whole, or subdue her to his own bidding if he so wanted.

Why should she trust this Upper Rank Demon? Why should she trust him (her saviour)?

It was wrong, really. Terribly wrong after all (Y/n) had been through and seen until this day. She thought of that teacher she trusted so long ago. He had led her to a fate that could easily be worse than death. He was an easy kill because he was human, but Akaza?

She turned to cautiously meet his gaze, brows knitted in concern. They were playing a dangerous game built on trust, on honesty, on promises. Akaza had many chances to devour (Y/n) whole, yet he hadn't. Why? Because she was interesting. Because she was different. Because she was from the future.

(Y/n) was still a weak little girl no matter how much Akaza had taught her. He was not to be trusted. He was not to be shown vulnerability to. And yet--yet...

(Y/n)'s hand found his own like it had when he pulled her out of the snow during their 'training'. For someone who could easily regenerate, his hands were covered in callouses. They carried a certain warmth too, like a crackling fireplace on a cold winter night. It was scary to think, but his hands were comforting.

"You can lay back down now," he said. "I'll be right here." Maybe it was the exhaustion clouding (Y/n)'s mind with confusion, or the weariness in her bones, for she listened and trusted that he wouldn't hurt her. Those golden eyes met Akaza's as he laid down on the tatami, pink lashes fluttering ever so softly. "Goodnight, Wonder Girl." His voice was so gentle, so affectionate. "Sleep well."

(Y/n) was out like a flame. She relaxed, eyes snapped shut. Akaza sat beside her, hand in hand as she turned on her side. For a while she stayed like that, snoring softly, scarily peaceful in the land of dreams. When the wee hours of morning came, she stirred with slurred mumbles under her breath.

"I'm...awake," (Y/n) whispered. "Nii-chan...I'm awake..." Her hand slipped from Akaza's as she turned in the sheets, calling out to the person whom she could never hope to see again. In the dim light of the lantern, tears shimmered across her cheeks, trailing down like droplets of moonlight. "I'm sorry," she cried, "I'm sorry Nii-chan."

Akaza sat there for a good moment. What was he supposed to do with a crying child? It wasn't exactly a task any demon would have an idea of fulfilling. He had seen children cry moments before their fathers were murdered, he had seen then scream too, then flee. But (Y/n) was not on the brink of death.

So why did she cry so pathetically? So weakly? Akaza tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and slapped him away with strength he didn't know she had. Akaza blinked. That was not the reaction he had hoped for. He tried again and gently moved (Y/n)'s squirming limbs into a better sleeping position.

She thrashed about again, ruffling her blanket and tangling her legs.

So much for that.

Akaza sighed to himself in exasperation. What was with this human child? In the span of a single night, her strength had fluctuated faster than the changing seasons. From weak, to mediocre, from mediocre, to strong. Akaza gently placed a hand to (Y/n)'s shoulder to keep her from moving. If she kept fighting some invisible being, then she would exhaust her strength before her body could catch up to recover.

Suddenly, he heard it--a strange way of breathing that sped up (Y/n)'s pulse. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up fast, shoving away Akaza's arm (again). A strangled breath escaped her lips. She didn't seem to register the fact that she had awoken. A moment passed as she sleepily blinked. Then, she laid back down and went back to sleep.

What the hell?

Akaza sat by (Y/n)'s bedside, eyes wide in alarm. Was she alright? Was she ill? Surely this sort of behaviour wasn't normal for a human child. And that strength--the amount that she had used to shove him away. It made Akaza's heart race, his blood pump in excitement.

A pained cry escaped (Y/n)'s lips and he paused, excitement vanishing. Tears fell from her eyes like rivers, soaking into her pillow. Akaza shuffled closer, and with the back of his thumb, brushed the cold tears from her cheeks. "You're strong," he admitted, lips curling into a small smirk. "Even though it might've been a fluke, you were able to push me away."

(Y/n) answered back with a strangled cry. She was having a nightmare. Akaza gently intertwined her hand with his, hoping that it was enough to stop her internal struggles. He brushed away her tears again, fixed her blanket, and laid beside her on the tatami. It was odd how someone with so much potential could be such a living contradiction like the seasons. Like the beautiful sunset after a storm. Like him.

"You really are a wonder," Akaza quietly said.

The lantern's flame flickered out, bathing their home in the last hour of night.

A month later

Living with Akaza wasn't so bad. He offered a home, food (he stole, but (Y/n) prayed that she could find a more noble solution), and all the essentials a child would need to foster growth. In the passing days, she found out that Akaza talked a lot. He was very chatty, asked a lot of questions, and liked to hear stories from (Y/n)'s life.

It really wasn't so bad living with a demon, it really wasn't. Right? Oh, if only she could attest to such a claim.

(Y/n) couldn't do it anymore. She was too weak. Too slow. Too this, or not enough of that. it was always like that, though. Always. (Y/n) tried for another combo.

Slow.

Slow.

You're too slow!

Akaza caught her fist, brows furrowed in thought. He seemed to be staring straight through her, like she were nothing more than a sheet of paper. "What's wrong?" He gently gave her hand a squeeze. "You'll break your hands if you clench your fist any tighter." With a tentative touch, he opened (Y/n)'s palm, prying each finger away until he could grasp her hand in his. "Are you not feeling well?"

A hollowness filled (Y/n)'s barren heart. She averted her gaze to the side, the cold wrapping tight around her throat. "It's...nothing," she swallowed to steel the tremble in her voice, "was my form okay?" Akaza frowned and released her hand from his.

This was an obstacle nearly impossible to climb. (Y/n) was intricate. Seasonal. Enigmatic. What bothered her one day could vanish within the next hour, and what plagued her mind, could sour her mood for a week. "Your form isn't the problem," he said, brows knitted. "Don't try to change the subject."

(Y/n) ripped her gaze towards the cold midnight skies. She couldn't bear to look him in the eye. Not when he was the epitome of physical perfection, strength--the latter she could never dream of reaching. And even if she did, what use was it? There was nothing to protect. Nothing to live for and die for because they were all gone, never to be seen or heard from again.

The society of heroes and villains was a surreal memory, the goal of becoming someone like those she grew up admiring but a dream. It only kept sailing farther, slipping further through her fingers like sand. And that was when (Y/n) realised something so obvious she should have noticed sooner.

Since the day she graced this very Earth, she was undeserving of reaching her childish dreams. What idiot would allow a murderer to become a hero? What idiot would allow someone so terrible and wretched as herself to be more than that street rat Oyaji found in the dirty alleyway?

And oh, why did (Y/n)'s heart ache so? It was time she grow to accept the reality in which she would never have her brother again, in which life only stole and stole what she could never have. The long hours spent playing with Hari and Kai, the nights pouring over study material to get into her dream school (U.A.), the times they would all share cooking for the heck of it, or babysitting little Eri-chan.

(Y/n) would never have any of that again because she was alone.

"(Y/n)?"

She blinked hard. "Sorry, I was just thinking." Tears burned the edges of her eyes, blurred the world together. It smeared Akaza's gentle gaze into muddled shapes and colours. Home. She imagined that place in which she could never see or touch again.

"(Y/n), are you alright?"

In what reality, was she 'alright'? The tears rolling down her face should have been the cue for Akaza to shut his stupidly loud mouth. She was so, so, so tired. So sick of sleeping in a room where she had to wonder if she'd remain a commodity of interest to Upper Moon Three. Sick of life, sick of wondering, of everything and anything that existed in this twisted, cruel world. And oh, she was sad.

Was that what it was? This hollowness, this aching? (Y/n)'s breaths hitched. She clenched her fists, clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. "I-I'm sor--sorry," she carefully took a knee in the snow, "I'm sorry..." The snow crunched but it was as if it hadn't even made a sound. The faces, the voices, the warmth her family held filled her mind, gushed in until it swarmed her with a wintry chill.

Grief weighed the frigid air like stones. It was a gripping aura, the type that suffocated anyone who stood in its vicinity. "S-sorry," (Y/n) sniffled. "I'm sorry..."

Akaza did not know what to do. He stood still, as if he were nothing more than an ice sculpture. Once again, he thought of the times he encountered a sobbing being. It was always before death. This was not death and (Y/n) acted as if she were to die by his very fist.

"I'm sorry," --she attempted to stifle her sobs but to no avail-- "I-I'm sorry."

Akaza tentatively knelt in the snow. He tried peering past (Y/n)'s hands but she kept hiding her face from his view. "Why won't you look at me?"

She cried harder.

"(Y/n), why do you hide?" The gentleness in Akaza's voice surprised even himself. He didn't understand this grief, this sorrow, yet it struck a chord deep within. Somewhere in that corrupted mind of his, he knew this emotion. It was the wave's final crash, the falling of a tree in its last breaths, the finishing strike of a fight. "Do you miss your family that much?"

She curled into herself and sank further into her knees. "Y-yes..." There was no going back. (Y/n) knew this just as the colour of the sky. But home, so far away remained engraved in her little mind. The warmth of the stove as Oyaji made tea, the scent of freshly cooked rice before school, the sound of Hari's laugh after a dumb joke, the playful jab Kai would give her side--that was home. Her home.

"You can't go back." Akaza quietly said. "You can't go home." The truth was hard, unfair. It knew not a drop of mercy to the suffering, and that tore (Y/n)'s heart to pieces. "I know that!" she snapped. "I already know that!" Her raspy voice cut through the air like a knife. If not for the broken sobs, Akaza would have thought her to be the fearsome girl he laid eyes on only a month or so ago.

This strong, powerful young warrior was just a girl. How could Akaza forget? His persimmon eyes softened as he laid a hand over hers. "If you know that, then why do you cry? There is no point in shedding tears when you've already realised the truth."

This wasn't an interrogation, much less a mocking question, but it didn't sound like it. "You don't understand." Tears glimmered in (Y/n)'s golden gaze like stars. They trailed down her reddened cheeks, threatening to freeze against the winter chill as her heart pounded against her rib cage. "My family is all I've had. They're the best thing that happened to me and now they're gone!" She heaved in a quivering breath, puffs of white escaping her lips. "It was always just Nii-chan and I when we were kids. I thought--I thought that things would get better for us. I was going to be a hero, someone who saves people instead of murdering them! But--but now..."

The tears would not stop and the ache in (Y/n)'s heart only grew. She was as cold as the snow beneath her feet, freezing to the touch. Moonlight shone from above in the lonely forest, casting its cool light against the burn of (Y/n)'s cheeks. She buried her head in her hands, sniffling.

To see a strong girl such as (Y/n) kneel and hide her head was pathetic. Akaza's stomach churned uncomfortably, yet anger refused to bloom within his gut. He tentatively placed a hand to her shoulder, watching for any sudden movements of fear. When (Y/n) remained still, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close to his chest.

It was funny, really, a demon and a human so vulnerable--so exposed to one another. "You're right, I don't understand how you feel." He sat down in the fluffy snow and pulled (Y/n) onto his lap. Slowly, he rocked back and forth. "Still, I see how sorrowful you are. I'm a demon, I don't experience sentiment or remorse like you do, but I am not blind. I have seen how tormented you are in your sleep, it bothers me greatly."

He pursed his lips together, biting back a tired sigh. For so long, he had been left wondering just as much as (Y/n). "I have always hated weaklings for as long as I remember, yet find myself uneasy by what causes you pain. I can't call you weak even when your strength has yet to hold a candle to mine." He paused, breath catching in his throat. "Maybe just this once, I can say strength isn't always about how great a fighter is."

That revelation shook Akaza to the core. In all his years of living on this darned human-infested Earth, how could he say such a thing? How could he, for even this moment, believe in something he swore to hate? (Y/n)'s sniffles broke him from his thoughts and he brushed away her icy tears. "Let's call it a day. Why don't you show me how to cook your favourite meal?" He held her in his arms like a baby, allowing her to rest her weary head against his chest. "If it's alright with you, I'll carry you home."

(Y/n) mustered a nod, icy lashes fluttering wearily. Her voice had long been left to the wind, where she prayed it carried her hopes and dreams to the heavens. Snow crunched under Akaza's bare feet, filling the expanse of night. The wind whistled, rustling the trees blanketed in white.

"I'm sorry," (Y/n) croaked out. Akaza's brows knitted. "For what?" She swallowed, as if the thought were too difficult to admit out loud. "Crying."

Akaza's gaze flickered to her own before focusing on the snowy path ahead. It was stupid and it was against every belief he held on who was deemed 'strong' and 'weak'. That was supposed to be the natural laws of life, the natural order of all things great and small. Even then, his next words felt so right when it was wrong, so perfect when it was imperfect.

"I read a book recently, something about poetry and such because I was bored. There was a line the author wrote: 'Crying doesn't make you weak, it only means you've been strong for too long'. I laughed it about it then." He scoffed to himself, shrugging lamely. "I thought about it again, and maybe that poet isn't entirely wrong."

Akaza's hold was the butterfly landing on a flower, the swan as it glided into a lake. Every movement was deliberately comforting. Reassuring.

Akaza, Upper Moon Three, a blood-thirsty demon, was reassuring....and kind. His gaze met (Y/n)'s once again and those eyes, so soft and sweet, were filled with love. But how could a demon love? Much less, someone as weak and sad as Chisaki (Y/n)? This shouldn't be possible. It shouldn't when it went against the very laws of nature.

Yet this love was true, (Y/n) sensed it from the very depths of her icy heart. She limply surrendered herself to the only kindness this cruel world offered. No--not the world--him. Akaza. He wouldn't have stayed by her side, practically attached at the hip, if he didn't care. And he wouldn't try to understand her despite being hard set on his Social Darwinism-esque mindset. Why? Because he cared.

(Y/n) frowned, finally relaxing into his gentle hold. "I'm still sorry for troubling you."

"Don't apologise," --his hold was still everything gentle and sweet-- "don't apologize like that again." (Y/n) looked up into his luminescent eyes. Tears blurred her vision as she sniffled again, stifling the cry in her throat. She hated how nice he was to her, how kind, gentle and understanding his words could be. This was not lip service, for he meant every word falling past his lips.

Akaza's human memories were long gone, forever burnt with the tether of what people called 'humane'. So why did his heart twist and ache when the tears rolled down (Y/n)'s cheeks? All those nights where she struggling in her sleep against some invisible being, he laid beside her, hand in hand. Every time she left during the last hours of day to search for food, anxiety gnawed at his insides. He had worried for her because a bear or a boar could kill her if she wasn't careful.

Ah, so that was it, was it? Akaza had come to appreciate the presence of his human companion. He had grown to care for her, to cherish her.

His chest seemed to grow cold. His throat constricted. "The day I saw you, I had watched as that man tried to kill you. I thought to myself that it wasn't anything to bother with since you would die out here anyway. You were struggling because you were merciful."

A chilling breeze passed, and with the warmth of Akaza's arms, he shielded (Y/n) from the cold. "In that moment, I thought you were really going to die. You had stab wounds, your bones were broken, and you smelled close to death. Then you healed and gave what that man deserved in retaliation."

He smiled a little, not out of malice or blood-lust. Instead, relief washed over his face. Happiness. "This is the most fun I've had in centuries. Usually, I only get to talk to someone for a few hours before I eat them, but you? You're good company. I like you and you make me feel things I didn't know were possible."

Akaza's gentle, silent steps lulled (Y/n)'s reeling mind. She stared up at him, breathing out a puff of white. "So you don't keep me around just because you're interested in my Quirk?"

"That and Fighting Spirit, and abilities." he corrected.

Ah, so that was it, wasn't it? Maybe (Y/n) had brought her hopes up too high, too optimistic--

"But," --he smiled-- "you are also more than an abnormally special child. Even I, a demon, can understand that."

The rest of the way home, (Y/n) listened to the soothing sound of Akaza's voice. In the dead of winter, the dead of night, where only snow and moonlight covered the foresty lands, spring had come in the hearts of two. Things were changing for them, and deep down, they hoped it was a good thing.

---

The lanterns flickered as Akaza lit them one by one. Pots and pans clashed and hit the side of (Y/n)'s arm as she rummaged through a cabinet.

"Is there anything specific you need to make dinner?" inquired her companion. "There is a man two villages over who sells preserved foods. I heard an old couple say it's the best they ever had, but I wouldn't know. Human food still doesn't taste any good to me." Akaza's lively voice helped to keep (Y/n)'s empty heart company. She savored the velvety sound, allowed it to calm her stormy waters.

"I don't need anything," (Y/n) said with a sniffle. "Thank you, I suppose." Her quiet voice made him frown. Akaza cut through the room and leaned over her shoulder, persimmon eyes searching the side of her face. She tensed for a moment before continuing to chop the winter vegetables. "Is there something you need from me?"

A toothy smile rose to Akaza's lips. He watched as (Y/n)'s thick lashes fluttered, how her chubby cheeks reddened as she held back tears. "You are adorable, you know that?" A bright laugh escaped his throat. "I have never met anyone like you, and I'm centuries old. I'm surprised you aren't sick of me because I talk too much."

(Y/n) sliced the wintermelon in half, awe-struck. A three hundred something demon had just called her 'adorable'. Adorarable. "You know I'm ten, right?" she dead-panned. Akaza laughed again, placed a hand to his stomach to steady himself. "I didn't mean it like that, Wonder Girl! Anyway, what are you making?"

Even with (Y/n)'s half-hearted response of 'soup', he kept talking. On and on Akaza went. He sprouted the most senseless things in regards to training, such as, 'if you think you're slow, wait until the snails come out in the springtime!', to 'it's cool how you can cook so many different things'. Whether that was because he talked a lot, or because he wanted to get (Y/n) to smile, she did not know.

"--and there's this absolute bastard Douma, too. You don't want to meet him, he's a damn pervert, I swear. That Kokushibou guy is also just as terrible. He's stuck-up and thinks he's the law."

(Y/n) raised a brow, the corner's of her lips twitching upwards. Hearing Akaza's dumb laughs and jokes were better medicine than Ginseng. She grasped tight to those sights and sounds, engraving it into her mind like a tattoo.

"Like you're any better, Akaza. You're no lawyer yourself." The wry way she spoke made him laugh. "So what?" he inquired. "If I were interested in it, maybe I'd study just to see if I could do it. I have a lot of time on my hands, how would you like that?" The retort made (Y/n) scoff. "I doubt you can stay focused on academics for more than an hour," she quietly said. "After that, you're toast."

Akaza began to laugh before pausing. He knitted his brows together. "What's toast?"

"Bread but in slices," (Y/n) placed a bowl of vegetables into a boiling pot, "you buy it in a loaf and toast it in the oven. That's why it's called 'toast'." She stared up into his gentle gaze. It was confusing, really. Wrong. How could she be so comfortable around a blood-thirsty killer? Oyaji told her the stories of so long ago, the ones filled with grief and death because of one single race--the demon race.

This was as good as setting herself up for failure. She knew, yet deep down, couldn't find it within herself to despise what kept proving her wrong. (Y/n) heaved out a quiet sigh and Akaza tilted his head to the side. He knitted his brows so gently, like a puppy would. "You're still sad." All his attention focused on her. "What do you do for fun in your free time, (Y/n)-chan?"

She gave the soup a stir, shrugging to herself dully. "I don't know. I used to study so I could get into my dream school, but that's completely useless now." The soup bubbled and rolled, steam billowing as the fire crackled and burned through the dark. "I paint, draw, and also read but stopped recently because I didn't have time. I tried learning English once."

"How was that?"

"I gave up." (Y/n) chuckled bitterly. "I wanted to be really smart so I could be better than the other kids in my school. Growing up on the streets, then having people tell me that I was stupid and..." She paused, gaze flickering to Akaza's and then back to the soup. "Never mind that. I like to draw and paint."

Akaza's persimmon eyes glinted in the fire's light like lanterns. He took a seat on the floor in front of the fire, resting his cheek in his palm. "Why are you embarrassed about talking about yourself? There's nothing to be ashamed about."

But there was and that was not something he could understand. (Y/n) grabbed a towel off the counter and removed the bubbling pot. "I'm not ashamed about anything," she sharply muttered, standing. The soup sloshed in the pot and Akaza's eyes followed it cautiously. "I'm not embarrassed either. I simply don't feel like--"

(Y/n)'s foot caught in the tatami mat. Her eyes widened, breath hitching. She angrily thought of the soup that would go to waste, then the annoying clean-up she'd have to do because of her clumsiness. Then a pair of arms caught her shoulders and a large hand supported her own.

"Careful," Akaza helped her balance the boiling soup, "you didn't burn yourself, did you?" He helped her set the hot pot on a small dish towel. (Y/n) frowned to herself, meekly shaking her head. Gods, what was wrong with her today? First the crying, then the useless confessing, and now this?

"No, I'm not hurt. Sorry, I got distracted and I didn't mean to, I just--"

What was this scent permeating the air? This irritating thing that made Akaza's nose twitch? For the first time since the moment he met (Y/n), he smelled fear. Pure, terrified, unfiltered fear. His eyes widened, breath caught in his throat like a bone. "What's wrong?" This time, he truly could not understand for the life of him. "You have never feared me, why are you afraid?"

(Y/n) couldn't offer an answer. She stood very still like an ice sculpture, heart ramming into her chest. She thought of the woman she hated with her very being, the one with crimson eyes and hair white as snow.

The woman pulled harder on (Y/n)'s hair until tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "You're a worthless pig who thinks she can do and say whatever she fucking wants. My daughter's too good to be friends with someone who will only grow up to be a hooker. That's what happens to women in the Yakuza, bitch. A dirty prostitute--a slave to some man--is all you'll ever be."

Akaza took a step forward and (Y/n) averted her gaze to the ground. She heaved in a short breath, shaking her head. "Sorry--"

"Stop apologising." Irritation threatened to rise in Akaza's throat like fire. He heaved in a breath, honing his temper to a cool patience like water. "There's nothing you have to be sorry about, you didn't do anything wrong. Can I do something to help ease whatever weighs your mind?"

(Y/n) slowly leaned against the counter for support, running a hand through the loose bangs caressing her cheeks. "It doesn't matter, I'm alright." She paused, heaving in a quivering breath. It was time to change the subject. "You're young. Like, really young."

And there she goes again, thought Akaza with a tilt of his head. How could this girl shiver only to change into a block of ice within the span of ten seconds? She had steeled her emotions so quickly that it made Akaza wonder: What had she gone through to get to that point?

"What are you talking about?" He laughed a little, but it held the weight of a thousand stones. "I'm over three hundred years old, Wonder Girl."

"I know, but it's easy to deduce that you were turned into a demon around the age of eighteen to twenty. And considering the fact that you are also about three hundred something, you could have met Galileo, Issac Newton, or others during the Scientific Revolution if Japan weren't still in isolation and if you somehow managed to get there."

Akaza knitted his brows together. Who was Issac Newton? Much less, the Scientific Revolution? "I have no idea what you're talking about," he honestly said. "But this...revolution, it happened during my time?"

"Yes," (Y/n) said, tense shoulders easing. "The Scientific Revolution was a movement that further developed scientific breakthroughs. If it weren't for a lot of that, modern chemistry and all that wouldn't be how it is in the future." She paused, a sudden thought making her almost want to laugh. "If Kai were here, he'd be interested in talking about this stuff, but knowing him, he'd be all grumpy and--"

The thought came to a abrupt stop. Why did she say that? (Y/n) poured herself a bowl of soup, shaking her head. "Sorry, I'm rambling. It's not like any of that is well known." She disinterestedly sipped her soup; it tasted bitter and ashen. "My Nii-chan is gone, I shouldn't be thinking about him anyway."

Silence filled the room, save for the howling winds and the gusts of snow hitting the doors.

"But Kai is your brother," Akaza pointed out. "Why wouldn't you talk about him?" (Y/n) shrugged uselessly. "I don't know, I just..." The words would not come because there were none. What reason was there for (Y/n) to not speak of her elder brother? She loved him to death, and he in return reciprocated such. It was a topic she could not leap over, a part of her she could not ignore.

A long sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips. She took a big sip of the tasteless soup. "My Nii-chan is really smart. I can sort of fight now, but he's always been better at everything. I always need help studying, so him and our friend Hari have to help me. Compared to him, I'm not much."

That was how it always had been. Kai was smarter, Kai was better, Kai was impressive and so much more oh-so-scary. It wasn't that Oyaji treated him as the 'golden child' because he was heir (that would never happen). But that did not mean (Y/n) didn't stand within a shadow.

"Oyaji didn't want me involved in the Yakuza despite living with the Hassaikai. When I told him I wanted to become a hero, he was happy, only because he didn't want me to live like him and Nii-chan." She finished the last of the soup, ofrcing it down her throat with a grimace. "That doesn't mean I don't know how the Underworld works, just that I never touched what they didn't want me to do. Still--I'm not very much compared to my Nii-chan. He is much more fearsome."

Akaza wondered how 'fearsome' this Kai could be. Was he a terror? A whirlwind of evil or good? The Yakuza were still quite a recent thing (in his eyes) and filled with runaways, criminals, and the like. Just what kind of juveniles could the Chisaki siblings be? "What makes you believe your brother is better than you?" he inquired.

The grimace on (Y/n)'s lips pulled further. "I've never really been much of anything. When I need him, he has always come to help me." Akaza intently met her eyes, gaze searing into her own like the ever watching moon. "How does that make him better than you? And I'm sure you don't need saving to begin with. You aren't helpless, much less weak."

That was a compliment. A true compliment. (Y/n) felt it within her chest, within her bones. She finally looked into Akaza's persimmon eyes with confidence, grimace failing. "Do you really mean that?" A hint of doubt, a hint of that stupid part of her that always second-guessed, resurfaced. She wondered if he was lying to get her to trust him, or to give her a cruel false hope.

The howling wind came to a slow stop, bathed the room in a quiet calm. Akaza's beautiful eyes were warm like summer yet gentle as the snowfall outside. They shone with a genuine truth, one that could not have sprouted from lies. A smile rose to Akaza's lips--it couldn't have been more softer.

"I mean it. You are not weak."

Taisho Era Secrets!

-Akaza respects (Y/n) and sees her as an equal, BUT he gets worried about her safety when she goes out alone to forage for food
-(Y/n) does not like when Akaza steals. She is thinking of trying her hand in pickling vegetables like the man a few towns over
-The house Akaza and (Y/n) share was built in the 1830s. It once belonged to a samurai family, so it's pretty big and nice
-Akaza devoured the men of the samurai family and spared the women and children (LMAO this makes me think of Star Wars memes, okay lemme stop)
-Akaza is very supportive of (Y/n) and looks forward to spending time with her
-(Y/n) sleeps better with Akaza beside her but won't admit that out loud (Akaza would tease her endlessly)
-Akaza has toned down his teasing as of late because he feels bad since (Y/n) hasn't been in the best of moods
-Akaza has come to admit that (Y/n) makes him feel happier, or rather, much, much more human

Chapter Text

Liebesleid: 'Love's sorrow'

'...I held on as tightly as you held onto me
And, I built a home
For you
For me
Until it disappeared
From me
From you...'
-To Build A Home, The Cinematic Orchestra

(Y/n), in all her years of living, would have never expected to become best friends with a man-eating demon. Perhaps that was a discreditably dumb statement since she was only ten. But still. (Y/n) knew how the stories went, how the legend said this and that about demons and Kibutsuji Muzan...

Man-eating monsters. Things that would rip people limb from limb. Terrifying creatures of the Underworld.

Then there was Akaza, the precedent. He ate people, he fought Demon Slayers, and he worked for the progenitor of demons who could easily peer into his memories and find out that he kept a human child under his care. Yet somehow, he could not find it within his heart to boot her to the curb. It was a dangerous game, a dangerous dance amongst death and the dead.

Today was no different. After long winter months spent in a comfortable solitude, Muzan-sama had finally called upon Akaza. He was a chatty demon, someone who didn't really know when to shut up, so for intel, it was perfect.

"I have to leave for an assignment."

(Y/n) stood straighter, broom threatening to fall from her hands. This shouldn't have been a surprise. It shouldn't have made her heart drop to her stomach like a boulder. "How long?" It was hard to hide the tension rising in her throat under Akaza's observant gaze. He lived with her every single day, of course he could tell how terribly she wanted him to stay.

"I'm not sure," Akaza said, pursing his lips, "maybe a week or two. I'll try to finish my duties quickly."

And the frowns refused to stop there. (Y/n) bit her bottom lip, cheeks puffing out in thought. It was natural Akaza had duties. He was an Upper Moon, and if he didn't produce results for the wants of his master, he would pay dearly. (Y/n) knew that strategy well. She knew the types of things people like that did to those they stood upon.

A woman with white hair, crimson eyes, and a too-happy smile reeled into her mind like a movie. She carried a baby in her arms--Eri. "You aren't even related to my father," Auntie would say. "Why are you even here living off his money? You're expensive to keep around. At least your brother is the next heir, but you? You're nothing. Stay away from my daughter, you filthy street rat!"

And then Auntie would smile soon after, joke about how she didn't really mean that (even though she did). Oyaji never knew about any of that. When it happened, he was never around and it was hard to believe he would understand when Auntie was his real daughter. So (Y/n) never said anything. So (Y/n) stood quiet, played dead. She wondered if Akaza did the same.

It was all for the sake of survival, all to see another day, all to make sure he wasn't tossed aside and killed--like how she was by that woman.

Akaza's hand found (Y/n)'s, intertwining their fingers. The atmosphere weighed heavy upon her shoulders and made her heart throb in worry. She stared hard at the wall, golden eyes like the sunset dull and distant. There were plenty of possibilities that Akaza would never come back, plenty of reasons for Muzan to dispose of him. What if that actually happened? What if she was left alone in this big, wide world?

A comforting squeeze to her hand and (Y/n) looked up to meet the gentle way Akaza met her gaze. "Don't worry about me," he spoke brightly, "I'll be back before you know it. Yesterday, I stocked up the pantry for you."

That snapped (Y/n) out of her thoughts. She met his gaze, giving his arm a childish swing back and forth to distract herself. Oh, not this again. "I told you I was going to try and make money somehow. You shouldn't steal."

"But it's for you." His voice was as velvety as always, brimming with that teasing hint. "If you tried to make a living, that would put unnecessary stress on you." But (Y/n) didn't care about that. It was only more trouble for the person whom she had begun to look up to. Akaza constantly tended to her needs with such care that it made her feel guilty. Why should he have to do all that when he was a literal Kizuki?

She squeezed his hand, lips pursed into a thin line. The ice in her heart began to burn like flames, shiver fiercely as the trees to the wind. A large, heavy huff escaped her lips. "Gods, I just don't want to burden you, okay? Is there something wrong about that?" (Y/n) didn't mean for her voice to come out so panicked, so angry and worried. Another breath escaped her lips. "You've already taken me in and taught me so much. To have you constantly go out of your way to feed me and bring me clothes and..."

Akaza's brows knitted. He didn't understand where this was coming from. Why did (Y/n) have to keep questioning his actions as if she had to be alone? This wasn't a frequent occurrence, but it sure happened more than once, and it was something that got under his skin (more than he'd like to admit since his patience was that of a near saint when it came to his dear Wonder Girl).

"Why do you keep doubting me?" Akaza inquired, brows knitting. "I want to help you so you don't have to worry about trivial things." (Y/n) released her hand from his and mindlessly picked at the skin by her nails. "I appreciate it, but I don't like stealing and I don't want to bother you with that. It's not fair."

A scoff was all Akaza replied with. He folded his arms across his chest, shifted from foot to foot impatiently. "What does this have to do with fairness?" There was nothing wrong with being gracious, that he knew. After centuries of being alone, selfish, and heartless, he had finally come to realise that it was okay to go out of his way to do things for the one person he cared about.

Yes--that was it. There was nothing wrong with taking care of his dear (Y/n). Besides, he wasn't so stupid as to allow a little ten year old a walk towards the next town over (which was a few hours away by foot for a human). Akaza would rather face the wrath of his master than allow anyone's grabby hands upon (Y/n), human or demon.

"We've been living together in the same house since the very beginning of winter. It was my decision to take you in, (Y/n)." She frowned, nodding. "I know, but still. You shouldn't have to keep watching over me, it must be a burden."

Ah, and there his dear Wonder Girl went again. On, and on--self-deprecating lies about how awful she was for being a leech, or an idiot, or someone who needed to be looked after and accompanied. A spark of irritation bubbled in his gut, flaring hot like fire. He pursed his lips tight, brows pulled taut with the strain of this raging frustration.

There were a few things about (Y/n) that bothered Akaza:
1) (Y/n) was a bit of a loner. She liked to be independent--maybe too independent.
2) (Y/n) was afraid of being a burden. She hated relying on asking for something.
3). (Y/n) got worked up easily about all the above.

(Y/n) suddenly stopped talking, gaze falling to the floorboards where her socks tickled its cold surface. She knew she told Akaza that she'd stop saying it, but the words fell from her mouth anyway. "S-sorry," (Y/n) muttered out. "I must be holding you up."

Akaza's gut churned, fingers itching to release the uncomfortable sensation within his very bones. For a moment, he saw a girl with dark hair and big, innocent eyes. And then he thought, for a brief moment, about the oh-so familiar voice echoing out 'I'm sorry'. Who was that girl whose face he could not remember? Who smiled brightly and laughed shyly behind her hands? The fragment quickly faded as a mere bygone his Master long stole from his mind.

Then it came--the anger, the pent-up frustration he had held back for months. "Why can't you just be grateful for what I'm doing?"

(Y/n) blanched, breath catching in her throat.

"I have been helping you and you keep asking me why I do these things. It's like you refuse to trust me and expect I'll toss you out with the next night. Are we not companions?" His nose scrunched as he scowled, fangs gleaming in the dim lantern light. Akaza didn't know why he was so angry, or why all (Y/n)'s apologies rang in his head like a gong. It made his heart burn, chest clench with this unknowing emotion he could not name. "It is as if you only trust me when you need me, like when you have those damn nightmares and cry in your sleep, or when you feel sad and need me to make you laugh."

He heaved in a sharp breath, persimmon eyes gleaming darkly.

"And now you're being dramatic. You're about to cry and you're about to get all sad, then pretend like nothing happened like always. What is wrong with you? I always ask and you then pretend you're alright. Like a liar." Something between a laugh and a chuckle left his lips--something of how ridiculous his words sounded even to himself. "It's annoying, really."

Annoying. Was that was (Y/n) was? But of course that was what she was. It was what Auntie always said whenever she walked into the room. Nothing would change no matter how much (Y/n) hoped things would. And just like the time Auntie overheard (Y/n)'s plans to apply to U.A., she was shot down--rejected as the baby bird that could not fly.

"Akaza," her voice cracked, "I don't want to burden you. I--I'm sorry." Gods, there it was again, the 'I'm sorry' she should have bit back.

It was no surprise that Akaza's anger peaked higher than the mountains, fists clenching by his sides. He looked about ready to burst, ready to do something that (Y/n) didn't want to think about. She held her tongue and sucked back the tears threatening to burn her eyes. She could not cry, not again in front of someone so strong and great.

A step was enough for the very ground to shake under Akaza's feet. He towered over (Y/n), shoulders tense and stiff. "Why do you keep apologising?" His strong voice filled the expanse of the empty estate. "Are you unaware of how much I hate it when you start crying and saying 'I'm sorry' over something so stupid? I've been patient, I've been trying to understand, but you keep doing it over and over and I don't believe I can stand it any longer!"

Ah, so Akaza had finally had enough, hadn't he? This was the inevitable, her life had never been smooth sailing from the start. (Y/n) wrung her hands together, fidgeted with the lose strands on her kimono. The words would not leave her lips, another 'I'm sorry' she forced down her throat.

For a moment, (Y/n) thought Akaza had cooled down and his one-sided shouting match would finally wither away. But he heaved in a sharp breath, and with a gaze that made (Y/n) shrink, said, "You know what your problem is?"

No, no. He wasn't going to say that. Not Akaza. Not the one person she thought she could trust in a world where she had no one.

"It's the fact that you hate yourself more than anyone in the world." He paused, something between a grin and a smirk rising to his lips. "You keep calling yourself weak and saying you're nothing because that's all anyone ever told you, is it not? Because you believe that, that's all you'll ever be. It's pathetic. I expected more from you, (Y/n), especially after how far you've come."

What had changed? What had made him say such words that made (Y/n)'s heart beat so erratically in her rib cage? Her ears had not lied to her. This was reality, a place in which she was all but a disappointment to those she tried to please.

Oyaji, whom loved her so dearly, could never see (Y/n) in the same light as Kai because she was a girl he wished to see grow up well. Kai, her dear brother, could never fully support her dream of being a hero. It was impossible, as he hated them for never hearing their pleas. And Auntie, well, there wasn't much to say there. She always hated (Y/n) for being an outsider, for being a challenge to her daughter over beauty or strength, or the favour of her father. And Hari, her childhood friend, too, could never see anything but Kai's little sister. It was always his job to watch over (Y/n), even if he would rather them be friends.

In the end, all roads led to Rome. That Rome was known as the barren wasteland of disappointment.

(Y/n) ground her teeth together, jaw tensed tight enough to snap. She bit her tongue and tried to suck back the tears blurring her vision. It was no use. In the dead silence of late Winter, Akaza could hear ever last wave of sound. (Y/n) could not hide. Not from Akaza, whom always knew when she would cry.

The sound of shuffling caught (Y/n)'s ears. She heard Akaza take a knee in front of her as she harshly wiped her face. He did not need to see the vulnerability, the pain that reflecting in her golden eyes.

"You said you were going," --(Y/n)'s voice was soft, fragile like a thin sheet of ice, "and I'm sure you don't want to be behind on your assignment." She had to stop crying, especially since Akaza was right there. He was right about her pathetic display, and about her being weak and disappointing. Akaza was, after all, everything she was not. Strong, self-assured, smart, and much, much more. He was right like he often times seemed to be--she was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"(Y/n)--"

She forced herself to meet his eyes, a tinge of fear threatening to rise in her gut. "I'm sure you don't want to be around an annoyance. Be safe on your travels." Tears shimmered in her liquid golden eyes like drops of moonlight, where a strained smile cracked upon her lips.

It was...painful. Akaza did not know what to say, and perhaps that was because there really was nothing to say. He frowned deeply, and with a soundless step, exited into the darkness outside. The snow had begun to melt with the oncoming season of spring. Bugs were rising back into the forest, and the trees once peacefully blanketed in white slowly sprouted through the frost.

A violent sob hit Akaza's ears and his nose scrunched up. He paused in his step, gaze falling on the sealed front doors.

"You know what your problem is? It's the fact that you hate yourself more than anyone in the world. You keep calling yourself weak and saying you're nothing because that's all anyone ever told you, right? Because you believe that, that's all you'll ever be. It's pathetic. I expected more from you, (Y/n), especially after how far you've come."

In that odd fit of anger, Akaza had said something so unforgivable, so brutally wrong that it made his breath catch in his throat. How could he do that? He had demanded why (Y/n) didn't want to rely on him (trust him with her all), only to break her with words sharper than any blade. (Y/n) had told him about how life on the streets, how she always thought her brother was better than her, and how she felt like nothing.

Why did Akaza use her own words against her? Why did he have to pry into her most sensitive secrets to break her little heart? How cruel of a being did Akaza have to be to do such a thing to the one human he actually cared about? Guilt weighed his heart heavily as he trudged through the melting ice and snow. Frozen chunks of mud gathered along his toes and he didn't bother avoid it.

What a miserable night it was for a terrible demon such as himself.

Akaza silently promised to make it up to (Y/n), but the gnawing weight of guilt made him wonder: would (Y/n) leave him? It wasn't impossible. She could survive on her own until she found the next village no matter the odds. Maybe she could find work too. (Y/n) was a charming individual, with good looks and sweet words that could sway even the hardest of hearts.

If Akaza believed in any gods, he would pray to them with all his blood, sweat, and tears that Chisaki (Y/n) would not leave for good.

---

The night was long and dark. With only (Y/n)'s imaginative mind filling up the space of the large home, she was restless. The bed was either too hard or too soft, too cold or too hot. Spring was just around the corner, creeping closer and closer with the warmth it carried.

If only (Y/n)'s cold heart could be warmed. Akaza was right, wasn't he? His words played in her mind like a broken record.

"You only trust me when you need me, like when you have those damn nightmares and cry in your sleep, or when you feel sad and need me to make you laugh."

"It's annoying."

"Do you know how much I hate it when you start crying and apologising over something stupid? I've been patient, I've been trying to understand, but you keep doing it over and over and I don't think I can take it any longer!"

Tears blurred (Y/n)'s vision. She was sad. Pathetic. Worst of all? Weak. The very thing Akaza hated. Now, she was also annoying and more of a nuisance than she realised. But of course she was a nuisance, that was all she ever was for a demon who could easily consider her dead weight.

But they were friends, right? Akaza had held her with a gentle touch, looked at her with eyes of sincerity, and spoken with his heart. He meant what he said and said what he meant...

...so then...then what he said earlier had to be true as well. He was everything this world had to offer (a thief, a murderer, a caretaker, a companion), but not much of a liar. There was no reason for Akaza, Upper Moon Three, to lie his way out of anything when he was an all-powerful being.

Meaning...meaning....(Y/n) was weak (and she was nothing). And she was this, and that, and all that Akaza had been implying. So, what was the point of all this? Of training for fun and soaring through the night with the only constant in her life? It must have been silly, to think a demon and a human could ever get along. Oyaji's stories didn't lied. They always spoke of monsters, of things with sharp fangs that went bump in the night.

And now here (Y/n) lay, sobbing into her pillow as the night drew out long and dark. Her shoulders shook, lip quivered as the pain, the anguish, of those words pierced her heart. But they were more than words, because sometimes,

words could be sharper than knives.

And (Y/n) knew what it was like to be stabbed with a knife.

She thought of that damned women with hair white as snow, eyes red as blood. Eri-chan had been held close to Auntie's chest in mocking one day, as if to parade the little child around like a trophy. To say, 'this is my daughter and you are not'. It was Auntie's way of alienating (Y/n) from Oyaji--her dear, adoptive father.

Often times, Auntie stood in (Y/n)'s doorway. She would start off playing nice, inviting (Y/n) to play with her daughter. Days like that were nice. No yelling, no screaming. But when Auntie stayed to watch (Y/n) while Oyaji went on 'business' with Kai and Hari, Auntie became a devil. She was the reincarnate of Hell itself, of all that was evil and terrible in this world.

"Don't touch my daughter," Auntie would say. "She might catch fleas from you."

And when (Y/n) wanted to have a meal, Auntie would stare her down like a hawk. "What are you doing?" she would bark. "You're supposed to ask me when you want to eat. What if you take everything for yourself?" It always spiraled out of place, out of the light and into the darkness--into the 'useless girl' and 'burden on my father'.

Disappointment always crossed over Auntie's face as she scolded (Y/n) through the nights. She had shown up during the weekdays after school when Oyaji went out for business with Kai and Hari. That always left room for the scorning, the anger, and the distaste. So (Y/n) played dead, like some little animal to its prey. That was all she could do to keep the ice from spreading into her heart. The numbness, the anger, it left an unbearable emptiness that weighed (Y/n)'s heart to the very depths of the seven seas.

"Why do you keep doubting me?" Akaza inquired. "I want to help you so you don't have to worry about trivial things."

"I don't want to burden you." she replied. "I appreciate it, but I don't like stealing and I don't want to bother you with that."

If (Y/n) hadn't spoken, if she had remembered that her words meant nothing and just played dead, then maybe, maybe, Akaza wouldn't be so angry. Maybe Akaza wouldn't have said all those hurtful things. And maybe Akaza wouldn't hate her for the very thing she thought she had conquered: Weakness.

Another sob escaped (Y/n)'s lips. And then, for a good moment, she thought about how great it would have been to not have existed at all.

The next day was uneventful, and the next, and those that followed after. Before (Y/n) knew, two weeks of useless moping, training alone, and crying were spent. Akaza had yet to come back. Maybe he had left her for some other place without the heavy annoyance that was known as Chisaki (Y/n). That would have made sense, for who in their right minds would waste time on a disappointment such as herself?

Today, (Y/n) sat outside in the late afternoon sun. She had done so for the past weeks, weaving flower crowns for no one but the animals scurrying through the bushes. Trees swayed in their mockingly peaceful dance while the sun shone warmly against her skin. It was sad and it was annoying how happy the world could be.

While (Y/n) found no joy in her very existence, the world kept spinning. Why? Because she was simply one insignificant thing in this land of millions. (Y/n) missed her Nii-chan, she missed Hari, and she missed Oyaji and Eri-chan. They were all probably wondering where she was and if she had died after her disappearance. If not, then they probably gave up on her. That would be the most logical course of action, especially since life would carry on just as it was doing now.

Chisaki (Y/n) was non-essential. A piece of decoration in a hallway of many.

With the oncoming weeks came a numbness (Y/n) could not ignore. If her efforts here would not change her worth, then what was the point? She had thought her life would turn for the better once she became a hero, but that had fallen through her fingers. Now this life, this new chance she had to force down her throat, too, failed.

What a disappointment, just like (Y/n).

To keep her busy mind even busier, she decided to explore the area away from home. She knew there was a town; Akaza had spoken of it once or twice. The path was long, with muddy snow and ice that rapidly melted with the warm sun. A part of (Y/n) wondered if it was better to have just stayed home, but the thought of spending so much time alone made her stomach lurch with nausea.

If she thought too hard, what if she did something she regretted?

---

The town was about two hours away. It was small and standard, with the usual lane of shopping districts, to entertainment (she steered clear of that), food, and so on. The people were not very kind. They were a close-knit community suspicious of (Y/n)'s presence. Some restaurants closed upon her arrival (oh-so-conveniently) while old shopkeepers flat-out rejected her ('Go home, no tourists or travelers!').

Yeah, actually, (Y/n) should have just stayed home. With the heated words Akaza had sprouted, she didn't need anything else to remind her of how unwanted her presence was.

"Wow, it seems everything's closed." said a loud voice. A small sigh came after, no doubt from the companion. "I'm so hungry too, what are we supposed to do Rengoku-san?"

"Look, there's a girl over there. We can ask her."

By 'her', (Y/n) had a good feeling the man meant her. She stiffened, gaze falling to anything but the two people speed-walking her way (at unnaturally quick speeds, mind you). One had hair like flames, a mix of bright yellows, oranges, and reds. His companion had pale pink and green hair, like sakura trees in the mid spring.

Judging by the uniforms, these two were demon slayers. Great. What if they sensed that (Y/n) had been around a demon? They weren't stupid or else they would have been long dead, which meant they were a danger to Akaza and her, who lived only two-ish hours away by foot.

"Excuse me," said the girl. "Do you know why all the shops are closed? Are there any around here open?"

(Y/n) steeled her expression with a deceivingly innocent gaze. Internally, she thought she would combust. Oyaji told her all about the Demon Slayer Corps, their purpose, and those that were known as the 'Hashira'--pillars. Their literal job descriptions were to 'eliminate all demons'. With the bounty on an Upper Moon, just a mere tinge of Akaza's presence could set them off and then bam. Her life would truly be over for good.

What was she to do? What was she to do? A part of her almost wanted to sell out Akaza for all the things he had said, but she wasn't cruel like that. (Y/n) wouldn't betray his trust as he had betrayed her own.

"I've only been wandering this town for the past twenty minutes," (Y/n) calmly said. "It seems they are not welcome to having travelers such as ourselves." It was a superficial answer, simple and short. The slayers glanced at each other, thinking deeply. They were too careful for (Y/n)'s liking. Were they on to her? Were they suspicious?

'Rengoku-san' (flame-boy) and the Sakura-haired girl quietly muttered among themselves. They quickly came to a consensus, smiling brightly. "Why don't you come with us?" Flame-boy inquired. "We can search for a place to dine together since the whole town has been unwelcoming to you as well."

Wait, what? Were these slayers brain dead or just out of their minds? Could they seriously not sense the lingering energy of an Upper Moon when (Y/n) literally lived with one? Sure, it had been weeks since Akaza's departure, but that didn't mean energy couldn't linger. She sensed the amount of demons these two had encountered just by being in their presence. Were they dumb or just incredibly--

(Y/n) must have been quiet for too long because the pink haired girl waved her hands around quickly. "You don't have to if you don't want to." she said with a smile. "It was just--well--you're all alone and you're really young. It would be really bad if you ended up lost without a place to stay. We're looking for a hotel, you see, so if you're in need of a place to stay too, we can search together."

The offer was kind and the two slayers looked rather sweet. The only problem? (Y/n) had no money for a hotel. She didn't plan on bringing any (left overs from the late tenant's vault) when this was supposed to be a day trip. She didn't count on having encounters with slayers on her little walk. Besides, Akaza stole for (Y/n) frequently. There was no need for money too often when he did so (without her approval).

"I don't have money," (Y/n) flatly said. She thought quick on her feet, fabricated the quickest lie that would leave her lips. "I thank you for the offer. I had come as a wandering traveler and was robbed on my way here." Perfect. How could these two slayers know that she lied to their faces? It was common for bandits and randos to pick on those who looked weak.

Like (Y/n). A young, defenseless child. A young, weak child.

The pink haired girl slapped a hand over her mouth with a gasp. "Oh my goodness, that sounds terrible!" She leaned over her knees to reach (Y/n)'s eye level, brows furrowed in worry. "I'm Kanroji Mitsuri. You can call me Mitsuri-nee if you want, it makes me feel super young!" She laughed to disperse any tension settling in the air. "That is Rengoku Kyojurou. He's super cool!"

The flame boy smiled brightly. It was almost blinding, like the sun traversing its course through the skies. "It's nice to meet you, what's your name, young lady?" (Y/n) swallowed hard. Would it be okay to give out her name to someone? Much less a demon slayer?

Lying again would make her feel worse than she already did. The slayers looked too expectant, too kind for her not to reciprocate the favour. "Chisaki (Y/n)," she answered. "Please take care of me."

A sweet smile rose to Mitsuri-nee's lips. "Aw, you're so polite! Please take care of me, too."

"Same here," said Rengoku-san. "It's nice to meet you, Chisaki Shojou."

The search began by the north side of town, the farthest point away from home. (Y/n) wasn't trying as hard as she wanted to admit. Her mind reeled, and not for the same reasons as it had done so before. As sure as the snow had begun to melt, her sorrow receded to the depths of her mind.

This task, no matter how small it seemed, was important to the livelihood of her and Akaza's future. Sure, Akaza was a murderer, an Upper Moon, and a minion of Kibutsuji Muzan, but he was still--above everything--her friend. She couldn't bring herself to hate the demon who brought her home on that frigid winter night many moons ago. It simply would not sit right no matter how hard she thought of receiving payback.

"Chisaki Shojou," Rengoku-san's voice was a crackling fire, "you've been traveling alone without anyone but yourself?"

(Y/n) nodded. "I have."

"I don't mean to intrude, but what of your family? It's very dangerous walking around at night, and if you need to leave, the next town would take over four hours to get to from here." Rengoku-san's brows were knitted tightly in thought. He was curious as a cat, those large eyes of his tracking the side of (Y/n)'s small face for answers.

Akaza's teasing smirks settled in the back of (Y/n)'s mind. She thought of the fond side-look he'd give her, or the quiet way he gazed into her eyes when she went too silent through dinner. Cold pangs filled (Y/n)'s heart. She couldn't hate him, she simply couldn't. Yet the pain of his words were very real. Much too real for her to swallow. Everything she had begun to hope for, everything she had finally accepted, gone within minutes.

"It's dangerous wandering anywhere," (Y/n) noted with a numb shrug. She quickly continued on, dodging the question of her family. "I'm sure you have come across many lone children. Where are the both of you from?"

The sweet smile on Mitsuri's lips guided (Y/n)'s gaze away from the ground. She didn't seem to scrutinise so closely, only taking time to enjoy watching her surroundings as if it were another day in the office. "We're demon slayers," Mitsuri-nee answered with a smile. "You probably haven't heard of us, but we slay demons. Most of the time, we wander around, like you do. It's a busy life, you know? It makes me sad to hear that you are alone."

(Y/n) looked to the side for a moment, cheeks daring to flush in embarrassment. That wasn't an answer she expected to hear.

"It's unfortunate. It must be quite lonely at times!" Rengoku-san added with a nod, folding his arms across his chest (he was extremely lively despite the sombre atmosphere). "We're here in search of a demon. By what we've heard, people have been going missing throughout the night at mysterious times. Many targets include children, such as yourself."

Ah, so that was why they were so concerned. Perhaps the locals thought any child could bestow upon them bad luck. (Y/n) pursed her lips. She hadn't actually encountered any demons besides Akaza. He kept her safely sheltered on their lands with his mere presence, so she had always been safe wandering in the forests when she went to forage for food. There was no reason (Y/n) ever needed to pick up a blade.

And gods, why did her mind keep steering towards him? (Y/n) blankly stared ahead. She was dead weight to Upper Moon Three, a being who could easily pummel her to the ground without even blinking. All those nights spent training were only really for recreational purposes despite how good she was at keeping up.

Now that (Y/n) really thought about that, what was the point in training? In staying around if only to be a piece of decoration? If (Y/n) weren't so faulty, if only she weren't so defective, if only, if only...

"Do you need bait?" The question left (Y/n)'s lips before the gears in her mind could spin. "I'm sure I could be a wonderful candidate. A wandering child, alone and vulnerable in the dead of night." Her voice had dulled like a rusty old knife. Ironically, such a thing was just like her--a burden, an annoyance to have around, nothing.

"No!" Rengoku-san immediately exclaimed. "We would never drag a civilian into something that would put them in danger."

"But you need to find the demon, right?"

"Putting you in danger is not something I can do." Rengoku-san firmly said. "We appreciate your interest in aiding our cause, but must decline. There are other ways to find a demon, and that is not one of them."

Mitsuri-nee frantically nodded in agreement, lip pouted out and cheeks red. She couldn't have looked more frazzled than a deer in headlights. "I agree! There's no need to put yourself in danger, (Y/n)-chan." A sweet smile rose to her lips again (she was really nice). "But thank you, you're a good kid."

(Y/n) met Mitsuri's eyes the colour of mid-spring. A good kid. What kind of joke was that? She was not good, never was. Her hands were bloody, her heart cold, and her mind a reeling whirlwind of doubts and sorrows. But Mitsuri did not know this; she did not know Chisaki (Y/n). Not like her long gone family did, or Akaza, who was bound to leave for good.

"Thank you, I suppose." (Y/n) half-heartedly said. "Now that we've walked throughout half the town, where will you go? You'll have to wait until night to catch the demon."

The implication was clear: (Y/n) wanted to tag along. Rengoku-san didn't look too pleased about that. Why would he when some random kid willingly volunteered for such a task? He shared a look with Mitsuri, who frowned to herself worriedly. "If you tag along with us, you could get into really big trouble," she finally said. "We don't want you to get hurt."

(Y/n) did not know why she wanted to tag along so badly with the slayers. They were the calm before the storm, the light before the falling darkness, the ever lasting omen of night. These people fought where no normal human would in the den of their enemies. What good was there in walking on the serpent's tail?

An innocent frown fell upon (Y/n)'s lips. "If you leave me alone, I could get eaten." she reasoned, childishly playing with her hands. "This town is small, but still vast with an array of houses scattered in the outskirts. Rengoku-san mentioned that the next town over is four hours away. I would die trying to run if there so happens to be a demon."

Rengoku-san smiled brightly and gave (Y/n)'s shoulder a pat. "You're quite cunning Chisaki Shojou! Your point is very true, I say it's plausible." He and Mitsuri turned to each other, muttering amongst themselves. They went back and forth, a few 'nos' and 'yeses' leaving their lips. Then, they nodded.

"Alright." said Rengoku-san. "How about we make a deal?" Mitsuri clapped her hands together, grinning. "The sun will set before you're able to reach the next town, and since you don't have money, we'll give you some. Spend it responsibly, okay? We'll take you around until we find you a place to stay for the night."

Rengoku-san nodded in agreement. "And if we find an open restaurant on the way, I'll pay for all of us."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened. What, what, what? She couldn't remember the last time a random stranger had shown her such kindness from the goodness of their hearts. Akaza was an exception, he had more than one reason to take (Y/n) in (far from noble for the first weeks).

But these two slayers? What made them treat her so kindly, so generously? As (Y/n) studied them, the two smiled and it was everything kind and sweet and selfless. "Are you--are you sure about that?" (Y/n) stammered. Surely there had to be strings attached, surely there had to be some ulterior motive. How could strangers be so purely kind? "I--I can...sleep on the streets or something...I mean...it's not..."

Mitsuri let out a squeak and Kyojurou's jaw dropped.

"What?! No! You can't do that, you'll get sick, or hurt!" Mitsuri-nee cried. "And like you said, you're a child. You're a target for the demon we're looking for!" She suddenly took (Y/n) by the hand, giving it a good squeeze with eyes that spoke of great goodwill. "Come on, we'll find you a place to stay! I promise!"

"I agree with Kanroji-san!" exclaimed Kyojurou. "Although, by the looks of it, we are running short on time. Let's find you a place to stay. There should be at least one place open..."

(Y/n) limply held Mitsuri's hand in hers. It was childish, but the sweet warmth of her presence served as a nice distraction from the darkness forming in her cold heart. This was a hopeless search. Every house they crossed and every store they passed remained closed, bolted shut.

An hour later, everyone heaved out sighs of defeat.

"I believe we've gone through the whole town." (Y/n) said with a huff. She looked up at her new companions, awaiting their responses. The sun had ran its course through the skies, quickly falling down the horizon until darkness filled dusk. The stars danced above, where the moon lit the dirt roads in silvery rays. "It looks like you have no choice but to bring me along as bait."

Kyojurou and Mitsuri blanched, the latter, pausing to panic. "Rengoku-san, what are we going to do?! We can't bring a child with us! What if (Y/n)-chan gets hurt? What will we do then?! I heard this demon was higher ranked than the last ones we faced, what will we do?"

And so Kyojurou thought. And thought. He placed a hand to his chin, brows knitting. It was clear he was the rock in this duo, the one many could rely on for his responsibility. "We have no choice but to bring Chisaki Shojou with us."

She internally cheered.

"But only because the risks of having you alone are detrimental to your safety. When we find the demon, I think it's best you run away." The catch did not deter (Y/n)'s interest. She nodded in understanding, but of course, what truth was there in that? She was bait held by a leash either way, protected only by these slayers whom she played innocent child around.

If Akaza were here, he would get a kick out of this. To see his Wonder Girl, who he personally trained, act so helpless and childlike? Ah, that was something he could pocket forever with that teasing smirk of his. But Akaza was not here and probably wouldn't ever be. For all (Y/n) knew, he was going to disappear forever, held tight to the duties that possessed every last cell in his very body. Above (Y/n)'s friend, caretaker, and companion, he was a slave to his master. A demon.

Besides, it wasn't like (Y/n) wanted to see his face right now. Anger still coursed through her veins like the last biting chill of winter. She could not face him, not yet.

Mitsuri refused to let go of (Y/n)'s hand as the trio walked. She kept their fingers snuggled between her strong grip, every now and then swinging her arm back and forth with a smile like spring.

This...was new. Oyaji never did this when he held (Y/n)'s hand, nor Kai nor Hari. In a small sense, it felt...nice. Different. A chilly breeze passed and (Y/n) shivered. She paused in her step, eyes widened. The Slayers had yet to sense the approaching presence of a demon. It was swift, well hidden behind whatever shield it had taken refuge behind.

A step. A breath. A shout.

"Run!"

(Y/n) ducked long before her mind had caught up. She fell into a ball and rolled out of the way. A claw dug into the ground, right where her neck could have been a second ago. And like the wind (Y/n) flew through the streets, dodging and bounding away from her pursuer.

A demon was following her. A blood-thirsty, man-eating, feral thing with brawn for brains. This was not the same being Akaza was. This demon--no, this thing--had long given in to its thirst for human flesh.

A sound, low like a whistle reached (Y/n)'s ears. She skidded to a stop and flinched to her right. Needles soared past her cheek, narrowly missing her soft skin by centimeters. Misty white escaped her lips as she sucked in a deep breath, an odd sound following that echoed sharply.

(Y/n)'s veins filled with strength, heart beating in sync with the low thrum in her ears. She threw a punch and her fist ripped straight through the demon's arm. It howled fiercely, clawed at its own skin in pain. Large, heavy breaths left the demon's lips as drool dribbled down its chin. It gnawed at its limbs, peeled through the regenerating flesh with a muffled cry.

A good two minutes of its heavy breathing passed before it regenerated.

The cool air nipping (Y/n)'s neck made her shiver. The demon sunk its own teeth into its arms, bit into its own nails and tore through the flesh. Needles threatened to sprout from its skin again like bullets, yet the demon did not move. It wasn't trying to eat her. No, not with how he chewed on his arm. Instead, he was trying to eat himself.

The moon's light fell upon the demon's ugly pale face, where tears sprouted from its eyes. It was painful, and it was sad. This demon was once a being like her with a mind, and flesh and blood the same as anyone. Adrenaline coursed through (Y/n)'s veins as she dove to the ground. Needles soared past her shoulder and lodged themselves into some poor person's front door.

As (Y/n) rose to her feet, she paused. What was this beat in her heart so cold and icy? Pity? For this thing that took and ate the children of this town? Oh, this world was cruel. It didn't matter what anyone did or how they went about it, evil would always exist. This man had once been like her, he had not chosen the path of a demon.

Just like Akaza. He had wronged (Y/n), eaten many slayers in his lifetime, but had also been her saviour and friend. Of course, that didn't mean (Y/n) forgave him (or excuse his terrible lifestyle), but it didn't mean she would live on to hate him with her very soul. And like her dear friend Akaza, (Y/n) could not bring herself to hate this being who would rather eat himself than her.

"Was this what happened before you ate the other children?" she inquired. "Did you try to stop yourself?" (Y/n) did not expect a reply, not as the demon clawed at its own face with a pained wail. Blood splattered against the ground, sloshed at her feet as she dared to step forward.

Heroes did not kill. They arrested, they took people into custody, hands never stained with crimson. (Y/n) was long forced underneath the surface, where the water was not clear and where the fish did not see light. She could handle a little more, couldn't she? This demon, who suffered because of its existence needed to be laid to rest.

Even if Overhaul couldn't fully kill it, it was worth a try. (Y/n) took another step. Snow and ice crunched under her boots, cracking beneath the weight of her soles. Foggy white mist left her lips as she said a silent prayer. If there were even such a thing as rebirth, she hoped the demon could be blessed with another chance.

A hand took hold of (Y/n)'s shoulders and hauled her back with the force of ten men. Mitsuri and Rengoku-san appeared before her, blades unsheathed in the moonlight. In two single slashes, a battle commenced. The demon stopped gnawing and clawing at itself. Needles rose from its bloodstained skin. They flew like bullets, faster than any normal person could see.

(Y/n) was no normal person. She watched from a couple metres away, eyes bouncing between the Slayers and the demon at their mercy. They parried the needles with a synchronization only partners could match, with a grace of swirling feathers to the wind. Mitsuri and Rengoku were not just friends, but a duo. A powerful, strong duo that held their ground through the never ending darkness.

In two final slashes, Mitsuri-nee and Rengoku-san delivered the final blow.

(Y/n) stood still as a statue, knees fumbling about like jelly. Her heart beat against her rib cage, threatening to burst. In silence she watched the two slayers interact, congratulating each other on a job well done. Heroes existed even in the mundane, (Y/n) knew. But these people, so kind and generous, were more than heroes. They were anomalies, the one-percent among the cruel, bloodied world she bathed in.

The demon's head flew into the night sky and limply fell into the snow and ice. It rolled against the uneven grounds and stopped at (Y/n)'s feet as her gaze fell upon its eyes so green like the ocean. She wondered what sort of life this demon lived, what it could have and couldn't be because of what it was. And then she thought of Akaza and his persimmon eyes so filled with affection. She heard his teasing laugh and thought of how much he made her smile when she was sad.

(Y/n) bent down beside the head and clasped her hands together in prayer. Once she was done, she met the curious eyes of the slayers. "Thank you, for defeating the demon and helping me throughout the day. I would have died if not for you both." That last part was a semi-lie, but they didn't need to know that.

Mitsuri-nee's brows furrowed in worry. She sprinted forward beside Rengoku-san. "There's blood on your hand, are you alright?! I'm so sorry, I looked away for a moment and then you were gone! If I had been faster--"

(Y/n) shook her head, eyes softening sadly. She did not deserve this kindness. "I'm not hurt. Thank you." Rengoku studied her face carefully. He pursed his lips and pulled out a handkerchief. "May I?"

(Y/n) paused. With the earnest shine in his eyes like flames, she could not refuse and lifted her hand.

"I have a younger brother," Rengoku-san said. He wet the handkerchief with a bit of water from a gourd and wiped the blood away. His hold was firm and gentle, overwhelmingly warm with reassurance. "It always worries me to see young children by themselves. I'm glad you're unharmed. For a young girl such as yourself, you're very fast, too!" He chuckled heartily. It was as if the sun had finally risen over the horizon, tender and bright. "I was very impressed by your efficiency in fleeing the demon. You did a good job, Chisaki Shojou."

The smile upon Rengoku-san's lips made (Y/n)'s tense shoulders ease. She wanted to deny, tell him that she did not do a good job and that she was useless, but with the radiance bouncing off both him and Mitsuri, it was hard to say something so harsh. (Y/n) quietly nodded in thanks. When Rengoku-san was done, he put the handkerchief back in his pocket and stood up. "Where will you stay? Now that the demon is gone, I'm sure we can find you a hotel."

(Y/n) opened her mouth to speak before freezing. A familiar warmth tickled her fingertips, a reminder of the presence she had not felt since the beginning of the month. Her hands curled into fists, shoulders tensing. "No, I'm alright, thank you. Dawn will soon come, I have to leave to meet a friend of mine."

Yeah. 'Friend'. Gods, what did he think he was doing here, much less, around two slayers who could sell him out to their allies and eliminate him from this Earth? Oh, but what did (Y/n) care? Not like Akaza wanted to have her around. All she was was annoying and weak--everything he hated.

Mitsuri frowned. "Are you sure? It's no trouble for either of us." (Y/n) shook her head hastily. "Thank you both, I'm sure there are other people waiting to thank you as well." As if on cue, a woman slammed open her front door and shouted at the two slayers to come over. They turned around, eyes wide in alarm at the boisterous praise. (Y/n) stared at the two slayers for a good moment, pondering on what lives they had lived.

Another tingle in her fingertips and she didn't waste another second to bow and slip out of their sight before they realised she had gone.

And like the night, (Y/n) blended into its darkness. Her feet began to move on their own, cursed to follow the invisible trail to her saviour. It was as if she were tethered, forever bound to the demon. (Y/n) rounded a corner, jaw clenched tight. She shouldn't forgive Akaza for what he said, no matter how much he had done for her.

It was a betrayal of trust--a breach of who she believed him to be, or rather, wanted. But Akaza was a demon. A cruel, man-eating demon. He didn't really care, did he? No, no, of course not. It was all wishful thinking to replace the cold, icy hole weaseling itself into (Y/n)'s heavy heart. Each step filled her chest with pain. Made her head pound with regret.

Stop walking. Stop walking!

At the edge of town, deep within the forests blanketed in thin layers of frost, stood a demon with luminous orbs the colour of persimmons. His eyes widened at the sight of (Y/n)'s exhausted figure trudging through the frozen muddy grass. She refused to look him in the face no matter how sorry she sensed he was.

It was wrong, wasn't it? Backwards, even, to go back to the very thing that made (Y/n) feel like everything she tried so hard to get out of her head. Weak. Useless. Nothing--

"(Y/n)." said Akaza. "You came back?" The shock in his voice did not go unfiltered by the gentle breeze of night. She shivered, pulled her coat closer. "Would it have been better if I left?" Her tone was as icy as the very air nipping her skin. "Did you not enjoy your time away from an annoyance such as myself?"

Akaza's gaze softened and his lips pulled into a frown so deep it could have made the ground collapse. He didn't dare take a step closer, nor did he retreat backward towards the shadow. He sighed as quiet as night. "I'm sorry."

Was he really?

"I shouldn't have said that." Akaza lamely added. His hands curled into fists, lips pursing thin. "There is no excuse for the way I hurt you. I've always known action to be stronger than words, so it took me a while to understand how badly I hurt you. It was not my intention."

(Y/n) frowned to herself, heart angrily thumping against her chest. "You meant every word you said." It was like acid had climbed up her throat. Each word a confession, a nasty little truth she carried within her battered heart. "Why should apologies mean anything? I'm just a dramatic, weak, annoying thing. I know how it is, and I didn't need you to tell me that I'm a bloody disappointment. I already knew because that's all I've ever been."

It was as if time had rewound itself. Akaza's shoulders tensed just as it had the night he left, eyes blazing with anger. He dared step forward across the icy ground. It cracked beneath his weight, snapped like the very thread holding the ticking seconds.

Akaza outstretched his arms and (Y/n) flinched. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, yet the fearful memories of those times when someone had bubbled to the surface. She thought of the painful stings across her cheeks, the cold filling her stomach, and the dead stare reflecting in her vanity mirror. Out of instinct, she caught Akaza's arms, gaze falling to the way her hands shivered against his warm skin.

Warm. Akaza had always been warm. It was ironic considering how people viewed demons as unfeeling, man-eating monsters that only lived to serve their master or satiate their lust for human flesh. (Y/n) heaved out a rattling breath, eyes stinging, burning.

"I--I..."

'I' what? There was nothing to say, nothing to speak of when the world had spun upside down. (Y/n) thought of her Oyaji and all the times he had embraced her with a string of comforting words. She had always accepted his hugs because she knew what security it gave her. Then she thought of the first time she openly cried in front of Akaza.

"Maybe just this once, I can say strength isn't always about how great a fighter is."

That night felt like years ago. Really, it had only been about two or so months behind. She had promised him after that she wouldn't apologise so much. But it was a habit. A really, really bad habit that kept coming to bite her in the back. After Auntie beat it into her head that she had to be sorry for everything, it was all (Y/n) knew when someone got upset over her stupid mistakes.

When it came to Akaza, she worried--no--feared. He said he hated weaklings, yet claimed she was 'strong'. He said he enjoyed her company, only to call her 'annoying'. Most importantly, most painfully, he had reminded her how little she meant. Not to the world, but to those she cared about, for she was a disappointment. A being with little to no worth.

So which was it? Which did Akaza truly mean?

(Y/n)'s chest heaved as she sucked in a sharp breath. For so long, she had played dead. Yes, she said what she thought, said what she meant, and did everything that she wanted to, but ignored the parts of her that were ugly. Dissonant. It was her way of surviving, her way of pushing onward to the horizon she could never grasp. It was time to speak, time to stand as solid as the ice beneath her feet.

"Why?" (Y/n) glared at her shivering fingers encasing Akaza's wrists. "Why are you apologising to me?" Akaza swallowed hard, he had to to keep his pesky pride at bay. "Because I wronged you. It was cruel of me to use your insecurities against you, and no matter how worried I was, I shouldn't have let my anger get the best of me."

That was funny to hear. From the day (Y/n) met Auntie, she learned the meaning of apologies. 'I'm sorry' came when (Y/n) did something someone did not like. 'I'm sorry' came when Auntie grew angry with (Y/n) for playing with Eri-chan. I'm sorry this, I'm sorry that, never '(Y/n), I'm sorry for hurting you'.

She finally met Akaza's swirling eyes of guilt. He continued to frown and furrow his brows as (Y/n) studied his face to the last crinkle under his eyes. "No one has ever said sorry to me," she quietly admitted. "I...I don't know what I'm supposed to say. Whenever I tell someone sorry, they usually get mad at me, like how you did. But that was what she always told me to say, because everything bad that happened was my fault."

Her grip loosened around Akaza's wrists and she limply allowed her hands to fall at her sides. He did not interrupt to question who this 'she' was.

"Am I...am I really such a pathetic disappointment? Do I really...annoy you?" Akaza took a knee, the icy snow crunching under his trousers. "The reason why I got angry was because of how you talked about yourself. You kept apologising and that got on my nerves. What I said still isn't right, but I was trying to say that by bringing yourself down, you're only giving into those lies you tell yourself."

It wasn't a lie--at least not in (Y/n)'s mind. She had learned to bring herself down because that was all that kept Auntie's anger at bay. (Y/n) searched Akaza's gentle eyes, where genuine warmth sparkled like the stars above. Again, these were his words, words that he meant.

"You keep calling yourself weak and saying you're nothing because that's all anyone ever told you, right? Because you believe that, that's all you'll ever be."

"(Y/n)," he said. "I know I have no right to say this after how badly I made you feel, but I want you to know that you are strong and brave. And you're not annoying, the way you talk about yourself is. I've told you about Fighting Spirit and how your own has developed thoroughly. When you're at your lowest, your Fighting Spirit is weak, but when you are confident, you are able to reach heights above what you are now. That isn't something I can lie about since it's my Blood Demon Art, right?" He cracked a smile, toothy and smug with affection. "You are strong and have always been, Wonder Girl. That is irrefutable."

The nickname really grew on Akaza, hadn't it? (Y/n) heaved out a relieved sigh, misty white rising through the nippy air. She sensed it deep within her bones--truth as true as the colour of the sky. "Akaza..."

His arms wrapped around her form, a blanketed shelter from the icy cold. (Y/n) tensed for a moment before melting into him, the ice of her heart cracking. Tears burned her eyes and blurred her vision like smoke. But she refrained. It would only hurt more to show Akaza how much he had pained her.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)." Akaza said into her hair. "I'm sorry."

It was hard to believe anyone could value some commodity as herself. (Y/n) was just a kid stained in blood after all, she was no master of anything, no brilliant being like her brother, and far from the beauty that was little Eri. There was nothing special about someone so ordinarily ordinary such as Chisaki (Y/n).

But to Akaza, her dear friend, companion and saviour, saw more. For in his eyes, (Y/n) was a glimmering moon among stars that constantly waxed and waned the nights away, only to reappear in all its ethereal glory. Her eyes like liquid gold, so sad and cold, always shone with a soft light in the littlest of gestures exchanged (such as hand holding and talking under the moonlight). Humans would be humans, but to Akaza, (Y/n) meant the stars, the sky, the moon, the sun--the world.

It was impossible to think a human and a demon could ever live on par with each other. Yet here (Y/n) stood, held securely in Akaza's arms as he walked back home.

Home. That was what this once unfamiliar place had become. The sight of the approaching estate made (Y/n)'s tired limbs go limp. She snuggled a little closer to Akaza's chest, a little deeper into his affectionate embrace. "I was worried about you," she quietly said. If not for Akaza's insane hearing, her voice would have been lost to the late winter breeze.

A teasing smirk rose to his lips, brow raising. "Oh? You were worried about me, an Upper Moon?" He chuckled, but when (Y/n) stayed quiet, he paused to look down at her. "Why worry about me? There are demons wandering everywhere that could attack you. Of course, they wouldn't have a chance at feasting on you, but you have no way of killing them unless you await dawn."

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered shut, gentle as a snowflake's touch. "I don't know if you saw, but two demon slayers found me in town. I stayed with them from afternoon until night because everything in town was closed out of fear of the demon there. I offered myself up as bait." A piercing gaze tickling her cheek and made her open one eye.

The glare Akaza sent (Y/n) made her shrink into his arms. "You offered yourself up as bait," he hollowly echoed. "In order to aid two Demon Slayers whose jobs are to find and slay demons. How reckless could you be?" (Y/n) shrugged. "I didn't have anything better to do."

"How does that justify putting yourself in danger like that?"

(Y/n) paused and closed her eyes again. Now that she thought about it, why had she chosen to become bait? It was a split second decision that led her to running away from a demon, donut-hole-ing it with her fist, and feeling sorry because it tried to eat itself alive. A cold pang made (Y/n) quietly sigh.

In that moment where she offered to become bait, she had thought it would mean something, maybe give her worth--a reason to live. (Y/n)'s family was gone, she had to accept that. If Oyaji were here, he would tell her to live. Live with pride, live with chivalry, with honour and purpose.

And maybe the brink of death, a moment she experienced far too greatly, would make her feel something after feeling nothing for weeks. (Y/n) was tired. Every ounce of energy she clung close to slipped away from her broken mind as sand. It trickled swiftly, followed the wind caressing her rosy cheeks.

Gods, had she always been this tired? This sad?

Tears leaked from (Y/n)'s eyes, cold droplets like ice. "I don't know...I don't know what I was thinking." No, that was a lie, one built upon the truth she had to force past her lips. "You were gone for so long, I-I thought you left for good. And...and I thought about what you said...it made me angry at m-myself for making you mad."

The tears rolled down her cheeks as she hiccuped. "When I saw the Demon Slayers, I worried about you because I didn't want anything bad to happen to anyone. I suppose I thought being bait would prove something--" she paused to sniffle, "--so I made them take me with them. It's...it's stupid. Everything I do is just--just really s-stupid. I-I'm sorry."

Akaza scoffed. He opened the front doors of the home and set (Y/n)'s boots down. Then he laid her down on her futon and began lighting the lanterns. "You have to stop apologising," he said. "There was nothing for you to prove. You've trained with me for months and look at how quickly you've evolved. No normal human could keep up with an Upper Moon."

Akaza flashed one of those sultry smirks (but it was soft and sweet as candy), persimmon eyes overflowing with affection. And with a gentle touch, he wiped (Y/n)'s tears from her cheeks. No matter how mature she was, she was still just a girl of only ten. Akaza wasn't sure what little children needed to feel reassured, but he was sure it wasn't whatever (Y/n) grew up hearing. He stood up and disappeared into the kitchen, only to come back just as swiftly.

Those luminescent gems for eyes narrowed dangerously. "(Y/n)," --she didn't like his stern tone-- "when was the last time you ate a proper meal?" She sat up quickly and paused to rub at an approaching headache. Everything throbbed from her forehead to the very back of her eyes. She recalled today's 'adventures' and the last couple weeks she spent on the front lawn, sulking and making flower crowns for no one in particular.

When was the last time she had a proper meal? The most she recalled eating was a lousy bowl of lukewarm soup (which was rather disgusting and made her feel sickly afterwards), but that was when? Yesterday? This morning? Last week? The look Akaza sent (Y/n) from across the room didn't help her gloomy mood. She frowned, shrugged. "I don't remember."

"You're lying." He strode forward and sat beside (Y/n)'s futon. Guilt embedded itself in his gentle eyes as he met her gaze. It was clear the fact that her appetite ran away was because of him. Why else after (Y/n) had gotten so used to living here? She had come to call this house 'home'.

Akaza's heart clenched--an odd sensation he recalled a human once writing off in a book as 'remorse'. "Did you not want to eat because you felt bad about me stealing food for you?"

(Y/n)'s silence served as enough of an answer. Akaza's posture slumped, gaze falling to the tatami. Long shadows flickered across the surface, stretching out across the walls as they rattled from the wintry breezes outside. For a moment, he saw the face of a sickly man. Dark hair, eye bags, and sunken cheeks as he smiled.

That was how (Y/n) looked. The soft light that had slowly begun to fill her eyes had been dampened, snuffed out with cold. Her plump cheeks still young and rosy were a pasty pale after coming inside, near sickly as the exhaustion creasing over her very soul. Then he caught a moment's whiff of it--the scent of death. It lingered in the air, clung to (Y/n)'s skin unpleasantly.

Akaza's gaze zeroed on (Y/n)'s.

"Did you...did you try to kill yourself?" The question was out of line, a step too far into the darkness. Akaza didn't know where the words had appeared from, or how he could assume such a stupid thing. All he saw was the blurry writing on a letter, the blood upon his fists, and the lonely sight of a small grave. It didn't matter what that was, all he knew was that he couldn't let it happen again. Not because of his shortcomings, not because he was full of broken promises and empty resolves of ever protecting those he cared so dearly about.

A morbid silence fell over the room, tense and heavy. Akaza's skin crawled as (Y/n) sat very still. She did not reply, nor did she deny.

But that was enough. Enough for Akaza who had learned how to read her like an open book. There was no why, no question, as to what that entailed. He understood well, simply by the wide-eyed expression crossing her face. "A-Akaza," (Y/n) stuttered. "It's--it's not--no, I was fine, I just--"

"Was fine?" His fists curled around the fabric of his trousers, veins protruding against his skin. "Did you do it because of--"

"No!" (Y/n) couldn't let him finish that sentence, not when Akaza had saved her and shown her a world of kindness she had never experienced before. His gentle touch, his soft gaze, his teasing smiles that filled her heart with light--that was who Upper Moon Three, Akaza, had been to her. "It's not because of you! It isn't!"

(Y/n) thought of the fateful day a week before where she stood in the early morning sun. The cliffs were high, overlooking a terrible ravine that could swallow even the bravest of souls. It was by chance she passed by this ravine after a long walk through the forest. (Y/n)'s heart had weighed heavily, filled with the pain of what she could not dare utter in words.

The ravine had been right there--right there. It was so easy to fall, so easy to simply jump from its peak into the swirling darkness below. (Y/n) even joked to herself that maybe she would return home if she neared death. But that was just wishful thinking, because some random man had accidentally sent her to an unfamiliar time with an unfamiliar sense of pure, raw fear.

And as (Y/n) stood at the edge of the cliff, she realised how scared she had been. Scared that Akaza would eat her, scared that she would be abandoned, scared that she had to let her family go for good, scared of how quickly she gave up on her dreams, scared of the death of her---the death of what Chisaki (Y/n) hoped to become.

One step. One glance. One tiny decision. It was so easy, wasn't it? All it took was a little accident to simply pass to the other side. (Y/n) had readied herself, it was time she end this cruel, torturous life.

Then she heard the voice of her Oyaji, the crinkly deep tones that resonated from his chest. If he were here, he would have grabbed her at the speed of light, then reprimanded her with all the reasons why it was a sin to give up on this precious thing called 'life'. He would probably begin to fret and cry with her, and tell her stories of his own tough upbringing in youth.

And if Kai had been here, he would fight tooth and nail to catch (Y/n) before she fell to the other side. Then he would scold her for being stupid, for trying to find 'the easy way out' after scrapping by through the streets for so long. 'You aren't so weak as to die an easy death' was probably what he would say before pulling her close with hidden tears in his eyes. After all, for so long, it had always been the two of them. Not one. Always two.

And Hari--her childhood friend. He would cry so much and wail about how stupid she was being. Then he'd use his Quirk to make sure she didn't run away, then carry her far from the edge with a scornful look. 'Don't you get it? Your life is valuable!' was what he'd begin to shout about. And then he'd cry. A lot. Hari was always such a crybaby, anyway.

Then she thought of Akaza and his smug smirks, his teasing laughs, and his gentle gaze. She heard his voice, then that stupid nickname he coined.

(Y/n) had stepped away from the cliff's edge.

It was ridiculous, but those she had to say goodbye to saved her. Even in spirit, they were always there.

In the lantern's dim light, (Y/n) fidgeted uncomfortably. She wasn't one to fidget, especially not under the gaze of Akaza. Yet with the intense way his persimmon eyes gleamed and danced with darkness, she could not contain herself any longer. "I thought about it," (Y/n) finally admitted. "I thought about it really hard until I began to cry. I was afraid to jump, but I was more afraid of disappointing my family. They wouldn't want me to die like that." A harsh laugh escaped her lips. "It's really dumb, I know."

Akaza was too stunned to speak. The thought of this young girl, dead, made his stomach fold into knots. For a moment, he pondered in confusion. A mere human, once again, evoking such deep emotions within his heart? It was impossible for demons to feel anything truly genuine, and yet, his chest burned in a sorrowful rage. He wasn't sure he could forgive himself if (Y/n) had actually died.

"You deserve to be around someone better than me," Akaza chocked out. "There is nothing I can do to fix what I have done. I brought upon you such despair that nearly pushed you to the brink of death. You have lost your family, your home, your dreams, and I hadn't realised how painful it was to you. I didn't realise because I was so, so stupid."

Now that was something the two could both silently agree on. (Y/n) watched as Akaza readjusted himself. He had inched closer, good enough to be about arm's length away. With a breath, he spoke. "Punch me."

"What?"

"Punch me." Akaza repeated. "I deserve it after wronging you so greatly. Punch me how many times you want, it doesn't matter to me as long as you do it with your all." (Y/n) stared at him in bewilderment, eyes wide as saucers. "W-why would I do that?" she practically shouted. "I don't want to hurt you!"

"But I deserve it."

"Why should that matter?!" (Y/n)'s eyes glistened with tears. She sniffled, instinctively drawing closer to her companion. "I've been beaten more times than I can count, I would never wish to do the same to you! You're so cruel, you know that?" Tears rolled down her cheeks like waterfalls, bitter, cold, angry. "Apologising to me...telling me to do that to you as payback...getting mad at me for not eating..."

A sob escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she threw herself upon Akaza, shoulders heaving. "Akaza, you're so stupid." He held her tight to his chest, allowed her to simply exist in his arms blanketed in love.

That was it, thought (Y/n). The reason why she still forgave Akaza so easily, dared not sell him out, and remained rooted to this Earth in the living wasn't because she simply couldn't. It was because Akaza had made her feel so loved, so adored, so cared for after so much despair. It wasn't just luck, it was simply love. A sort of love that made one feel warm inside, safe, secure.

But Akaza didn't need to know how deeply (Y/n) cared for him. Her pride wouldn't allow it after all this sniveling in his embrace. One day, she promised to tell him how much she appreciated him, how much she knew she couldn't live without him, how much she appreciated the being who saved her that frigid winter night.

(Y/n) closed her eyes. In Akaza's strong arms, she knew she could sleep safe and sound within his gentle embrace.

Taisho Era Secrets!

-Akaza was gone for a long time because he got caught up in trying to figure out what he did wrong. Let's just say he forgot what exactly a day was and spent a week in some abandoned house mulling over his actions.
-Akaza would never get physical in an argument with (Y/n). For a moment, he had thought about it, but quickly concluded that it was not suitable for the situation. He beat himself up over that thought for a good week.
-Kyojurou unnerved (Y/n) because of how observant he had been. His gaze kept wandering to the way she sadly stared at the ground.
-Mitsuri wanted to spend more time with (Y/n). She saw the little girl as a sister!
-(Y/n) reminded Kyojurou of Senjuro and that made him feel really bad when she disappeared.
-Mitsuri and Kyojurou searched for (Y/n) for a good hour and a half. Mitsuri cried when they couldn't find her.
-Akaza slept beside (Y/n) that night and cooked her an impressive meal the next day for someone who found human food revolting. He has been pampering her for the rest of the week.
-this chapter took two weeks to write because Author-chan had to split it in half! She also went to NYC to eat lots of good food, haha!

Chapter Text

'The evil it spread like a fever ahead
It was night when you died, my firefly
What could I have said to raise you from the dead?
Oh could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?'
-Fourth of July, Sufjan Stevens

Rain splattered against the roof of the estate, its 'pitter patter' like music to the ears. (Y/n) sat on the engawa overlooking the back yard, head pressed against the wooden beam to her right. Trees gently swayed in the wet winds. The rain went 'pitter patter' still.

The shoji doors slid open and footsteps nearly invisible to (Y/n)'s ears lightly tapped against the floorboards.

"You've been sitting out here for over an hour." Akaza took a seat beside (Y/n) and crossed his legs, leaning a cheek into his palm as he always did. "What are you drawing?"

(Y/n) turned her sketchbook around to display the varying faces and nature peppered across the paper. "It's the willow tree over there and the flowers. They're beginning to bloom, so I wanted to see if I could draw them." She smiled bashfully. "It's not that well done."

A scoff escaped Akaza's lips and he smiled devilishly with a snort. "I can't draw, and I'm centuries old. What makes you think doing that isn't such a feat? It's art, and I think it looks beautiful. See," --he pointed to the petals on a flower-- "you captured the way the rain fell upon it. And then here..."

Akaza, ever the observant boy, pointed out the details he thought were 'beautiful'. His eyes glowed with joy and sparked with a compassionate adoration. In his eyes, anything (Y/n) drew could have been worth the very stars. "You're a great artist.” he said, giving her shoulder a little punch. “Stop talking down on yourself, Wonder Girl. I wouldn't call you that if I didn't believe you deserved the name."

Heat rose up to (Y/n)'s cheeks. She smiled softly, twirling the pencil between her fingers. What nerve Akaza had to make her a flustered mess. "Gods, why do you say nice things about me? I don't deserve that praise."

"It's true, though." Akaza said, grinning. "And it also makes you turn red. It's funny how such a fickle being such as yourself can get flustered so easily." (Y/n) lightly punched him back, rolling her eyes. "What, like you don't make the stupidest faces ever? You're always so smug, smirking like you're some bad-boy. You're just a softie though, Bakaza."

"Bakaza?” he echoed. “That's new."

"Bwell, get used to it. It's your nickname because you're stupid." The childish quip made a grin rise to Akaza's lips. This side of (Y/n), so dorky and cute was a breath of fresh air. After her long bouts of depressive quietness (a disturbingly mature quiet for her age that bothered Akaza more than he'd like to admit), his heart began to ease.

When was the last time he had simply been able to be? Exist?

The rain fell, a simple ‘pitter patter' against the rooftops. A shared chuckle filled the damp, humid air with the joys of laughter like a warm summer's day. (Y/n) set down her sketchbook and closed it. She pulled on a pair of geta, stepped out into the rain. The droplets soaked into her dark hair and waterfalls fell over her eyes, down her chin. She threw out her arms in a spin, laughing.

Akaza's brows knitted as he cocked his head to the side. "What are you doing?"

"I'm singing in the rain?" she answered in a sing-song voice. "It's a glorious day!" Akaza's brows only raised higher. He stood, blinking owlishly. This was foreign. Completely, utterly alien and new. "Why are you singing in the rain when you're susceptible to hypothermia? Look, your yukata is all wet and it hasn't been a full minute."

(Y/n) wordlessly ran back up to the engawa and reached out her hands. "Join me." The smile on her face could have been as bright as the moon. "It doesn't hurt to run around in the rain for a little." Maybe it was that stupidly adorable smile, or the hopeful lilt in (Y/n)'s voice. Akaza caved in and took her hands in his. Screw hypothermia, a little goofing off couldn’t hurt. He jumped down from the engawa, rain pelting against his warm skin.

The grass soaked up every last droplet falling from the sky. If the clouds were to ever clear up, then it would have been dusk, the cusp between night and day. This time was the perfect union between two things more opposite than opposites themselves.

Just like the two beings running around in the rain.

(Y/n) kept a firm hold on Akaza's large hands. She led him across the soggy ground, around the willow tree, and back again.

"Did you come up with this dance just now?" inquired Akaza. (Y/n) laughed (like a madman) and it made his heart warm in contentment. It was taboo--a demon, feeling such positivity? He couldn't believe such a warm, pure emotion existed. Not after being alone, thrown to the shadows, for all the years he could recall.

In the pouring rain with only (Y/n)'s sweet voice as a merciful guide, her eyes were aglow. A pair of two golden stars from above. The trees rustled to her touch, sang along with her as she joyously shouted out some song from far into the future. Even with water weighing down her yukata and soaking through her silky locks, she couldn't have looked happier.

The two were connected as deeply as the dusk and dawn. It sent a brief jolt of sorrow to Akaza's chest, a breif pang of worry. He would outlive his sweet girl. A part of him wanted to turn her into a demon, but the other, more logical, reminded him what it meant to be one. Turning (Y/n) into a demon would be a disservice to what made her so beautifully unique.

(Y/n) opened her arms and swung Akaza in a circle. She laughed again, screamed out another lyric to an upbeat song. Lukewarm rain languidly fell upon her rosy cheeks so full of life. This must be what the definition of peace was. A warm rain shower. A collection of laughs. The scent of spring grass and dirt in the air. Akaza prayed this moment would not end, that they both could stay side by side under the grey skies filled with rain.

That night, coughs echoed throughout the estate. After a hot bath and a peaceful dinner, (Y/n)'s body had finally caught up to the day's activities. Akaza's brows knitted together. He saw this coming, (Y/n) was only human after all. And yet, he couldn't find it in him to be angry when her smile had been so radiant.

(Y/n) rolled on her side with a stifled cough, cheeks rosy red. "I feel like my head is going to be ripped apart." Akaza set a cool cloth to her forehead. "I said you were going to get sick and you said," --he cleared his throat and his voice rose to an awful falsetto-- "'join me! It doesn't hurt to be in the rain a little!'. Now look at you, it's a miracle you don't have hypothermia, Wonder Girl."

A huff escaped (Y/n)'s lips, a cough following afterward. "You don't have to take care of me, you know. It was my choice to go into the rain."

Akaza rolled his eyes. "You would only strain yourself."

"But--"

His nose scrunched up in distaste. "If you're going to apologise then don't. There's no reason to be so difficult when you're ill." He poured a hot cup of tea and offered it to (Y/n). She coughed into her elbow, taking it with a frown. "I'll only be a burden."

"Hate it all you want," Akaza added. "I'm still taking care of you regardless. Sick people shouldn't be walking to the river to get water, or going to town to sell flowers or paintings and whatnot. It's time you rely on me, I promise you're not a burden no matter how guilty you think you are."

Rain continued to pelt against the roof. Its constant sounds, so aggressive yet calming, lulled (Y/n)'s mind into a groggy wave of sleep. "I'm always guilty." She sipped on the hot tea. "Did I tell you about my Aunt?" Akaza's brows knitted and he took the cold towel slipping from her head, then dipped it into a basin of cool water. "No, you haven't."

For a moment, all was still, save for the rain, the gentle nightly breezes, and the faint sound of (Y/n)'s congested breathing. She sniffled. Akaza gave her a handkerchief to blow her nose. "When Oyaji had to leave with Nii-chan and our friend Hari, Auntie came over to babysit. She's Oyaji's real daughter, and also happened to have a daughter named Eri."

White hair whiter than snow, words that cut like knives, ruby eyes. (Y/n)'s heart ached with the same weight as the heavy downpour outside. "Auntie wasn't a nice person. She hated me and said things like 'I should have been left on the streets' and that I was a burden on the family's financial situation." (Y/n) shrugged lamely with a laugh. "It...doesn't matter though. I don't care about that."

But Akaza knew the moment she spoke that those words left a jagged scar.

"Eri was one or two at the time--I can't remember--but, there was this one time I was taking care of her because she came into my room. She wanted to play with me, I think she was lonely. After about an hour, Auntie realised Eri wasn't with her." (Y/n) paused, giving the blankets a tight squeeze. "She found her in my room and got really angry. I was thrown into the wall and she said I was useless, a waste of space, and a bunch of other things."

Silence fell upon the room as (Y/n) stared at her hands. The pain when her cheek hit the wall, the sound of a slap to her face, and the screeching of a shrill voice. "Nii-chan got really angry too when he found out, and he had a row with Auntie. I didn't like the shouting. Auntie also threw a bottle at Nii-chan's head. But...that was a long time ago. It happened occasionally, but it wasn't everyday."

Akaza studied the difficult expression on (Y/n)'s face. She stared off into some faraway horizon, as if the memories had begun to rise from the dead. "How often did your Aunt babysit you?"

"Every weekday after school, so Monday to Friday until about eight in the evening. Auntie only got angry when she was in a bad mood, so it wasn't too bad."

A wave of hot anger filled Akaza's gut. Five days a week? How was that okay? A pull in his gut told him (Y/n) wasn't speaking the whole truth (and lied about being fine like a fool). She withheld the larger details, kept silent on the parts that left her heart in pain.

So it was that woman that made (Y/n) like this? So scared to bother others, so worried to be lesser than the dirt, so afraid of herself.

"That woman hurt you." Akaza tersely stated. "How can you accept that so casually? You killed the teacher who tried to touch you, yet speak as though abuse wasn't 'too bad'?"

(Y/n) took another sip of tea. She watched as the leaves swirled at the bottom of the cup, forming little abstract shapes. "Auntie died anyway, it doesn't matter."

"You killed her?"

(Y/n) laughed and it was all teeth, no light in her liquid golden eyes. "No, no. Eri killed her. Oh, and the husband, too." Something between satisfaction and guilt rose to her face. She swallowed harshly, a bad taste in her mouth. "I was relieved when I found out, but disgusted. I wondered how I could find joy in the fact that Eri had no one to call her mother. It made me very sad."

Scratch that, sad was not even close to describing it. The day Auntie died always remained stuck in (Y/n)'s mind as a reminder of what shouldn't have been. No matter how terrible of a person Auntie was, Eri did not deserve to be an orphan. A child who could only look up to those who stood in front of her (a child like (Y/n)). "Eri's Quirk developed unconventionally. We call it 'Rewind' because she's able to rewind time on people. She unknowingly used it on her parents until they stopped existing."

Akaza's eyes widened. "That's possible? I've never heard of such a thing." (Y/n) took another swig of tea, savouring the bitter notes to keep her shaking hands at bay. "Well, I was sent here from the future. I suppose many things are possible if we discover it."

"Like demons." Akaza mused. "Created by a doctor who wanted to cure that man's illness." Spring's warmth seemed to drain from the very air. In its wake came the cold wash of rain pattering against the windows. (Y/n) took a sip of tea. "Precisely."

"What happened afterwards to you?"

(Y/n) set the tea cup down and pulled the blankets closer. She stifled a cough. "Oyaji took Eri in. When Nii-chan heard about her Quirk, he proposed an idea of utilising her blood to create a bullet that erases people's Quirks. It's...a far-fetched idea, but he's smart. I told him it was a bad idea and Oyaji told him off." A frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips. "They both were angry about that. I'm not sure what will happen now. It's worrisome."

Akaza thoughtfully nodded. He mulled over this bucket of information, from the vague re-telling of an abusive Aunt, to her death and the revelation of Rewind's potential. It was a sickly situation, one even Akaza had trouble wrapping his head around. "It's time you go to sleep," he gently said. (Y/n) spared him a few glances before laying her head down on the pillow with a nod. Akaza placed the cool towel to her forehead, eyes softer than a snowflake.

"You can sleep well knowing that you're safe with me." he reminded. "I would never, ever hurt you and would not allow anyone to do so either. Sleep well so you can recover. If you get better, tomorrow I'll show you a few new things, how about that?"

(Y/n) sleepily nodded. It was nice to hear his affirmations out loud. "Alright."

Akaza gave her small hand a firm squeeze. "Goodnight, (Y/n)." He smiled fondly. "Sleep tight."

---

Blood blossomed across (Y/n)'s fingertips, droplets like red camellias. She heaved in a breath, thick, soupy blood pooling at her ankles. The sky was dark, filled with gray monotonous clouds that contrasted with the pools of blood. She wadded through red.

A little pair of footsteps sounded behind. Timid, quiet.

(Y/n) whipped around, fists raised. A little girl no older than two or three stopped to look at her with doe-like eyes. She played with her fingertips, tugging at the stained bandages tangled between her hands. "Why did you leave me?" The girl's tiny voice echoed in the abyss, rang out with the sound of nothing. "You said you cared, but now you're gone. I need you, (Y/n)."

White locks scattered around the girl's shoulders as she took a step forward. A small hand, smaller than (Y/n)'s own, came to intertwine with her palm. "When Okaa-san and Otou-san died, Kai said he'll take me away from Ojii-san." The girl's eyes, a pair of shining red rubies, darkened like night. "Why did you abandon me?"

Abandoned. Was that truly what she thought of (Y/n)? "Eri..."

"You said you would make sure I never ended up like you." she added. "But you left."

(Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat, shoulders tensing. That was right, how could she be so cruel? This little girl, the one she used to play with whenever Auntie wasn't looking, had remembered and valued her presence.

But (Y/n) betrayed that trust because she had vanished forever. She swallowed hard. "I don't know how to go back. There isn't any other way to return--"

Eri shoved (Y/n) away with the strength of a grown adult. The darkness in her ruby eyes swept over her face in a river of tears. "You left me!" She turned on her heel with a cry and sprinted into the abyss of black. "You abandoned me!" It swallowed her whole, tossing behind the remnants of her cries.

Dead branches sprouted from the bloody ground in great tendrils. That was right, wasn't it? (Y/n) had given up on trying to go home when it was impossible. How could she, for even a second, forget how much Eri needed her? Left alone. Forgotten.

How cruel.

Oxygen escaped (Y/n)'s lungs as the branches wrapped tight around her throat. She choked, heaved. Her bloody fingertips wrapped around the bark as she activated her Quirk. Nothing. The branches curled tighter with a vicious grip and she couldn't find it within herself to care. Her chest weighed with guilt as if stones bound her heart into one. As if the stars refused to shine, the sky dark and colourless.

In this surreal realm with blood for water and skies the colour of ink, light refused to fall from above.

The branches closed in with a final squeeze.

---

(Y/n)'s eyes snapped open and she met a pair of wide persimmon eyes. For a moment, she stared. What was happening? Why was Akaza so close?

His nose threatened to brush her own. Well, this was awkward.

Then it all registered a little too quickly. A shriek ripped through (Y/n)'s throat as she sat up at the speed of light (ka-chow), head slamming straight into Akaza's. He flew back and landed at the edge of the futon, hissing like a feral cat. Then he curled up into his knees with a groan, grumbling about how (Y/n) could have just fractured her skull. "You're a danger...to yourself." he grumbled. "Are you okay?"

(Y/n) ribbed at her sore forehead. "Sorry, yeah I'm fine. I wasn't expecting that." She flopped back down on the futon, massaging her temples to ease an incoming migraine. Exhaustion filtered into her veins as she groggily stared at the ceiling. Akaza took a seat beside the futon and leaned over to meet her tired gaze. "Bad dream?"

(Y/n) rolled on her side, coughing. "It's nothing." Akaza folded his arms across his chest with a huff. "If it's nothing then I wouldn't have tried to wake you up."

"What, by staring at my face like some creep?" she inquired with a knit of her brows. A laugh escaped Akaza's lips, playful and teasing. "You wouldn't wake up and I thought something bad happened. It's not 'nothing' when you make that face." (Y/n)'s brows knitted.

What face? She wasn't making any face. Sure, her brows were tensed and her lips pursed into a thin, wry frown, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. She always made that expression, like her Nii-chan did. "You're imagining things, Bakaza." He scoffed with a sassy roll of his eyes. "Yeah, and it's not like you have a fever."

A fever? Since when did (Y/n) have a fever? And how did Akaza know what that was? She narrowed her gaze at the wall. "I've slept, I'm sure I'm recovering fine, thank you very much. Aren't you busy? You probably have something to do right now." As if Akaza, the martial arts junkie, could be busy. He didn't get orders every day, only the occasional sporadic trips around Japan. And when that happened, he had a set routine before leaving.

"I was close to your face earlier because I was checking your temperature." Akaza said. "You felt warmer than you should. Besides that, I can feel how weak your body is. If you start walking around like you're not unwell, then you might black out. I won't catch you if that happens, but I'll watch you flop around like a fish."

(Y/n) flopped on her side to stare down Akaza's teasing smirk. "You can't act tough forever, Wonder Girl." His velvety voice made her side twitch in irritation. She sighed, biting back a sneer. "I won't flop around like a fish, Bakaza."

Akaza mimicked her sigh, an apologetic smile wiping off that smirk. His voice softened, filled the room with a soothing wave of calm. It was practically music, an orchestra. "I'm sure your head hurts after you hit me in the face. Get some more rest already, you are human after all."

That gentle tone of voice just about did it. When he spoke with such care, it made (Y/n)'s worries melt away. He cared much more than words could ever convey. And for his sake, (Y/n) had to get better. She let out a dramatic sigh and shut her eyes tight with a phlem-filled cough. In the groggy fog of her mind, she watched Akaza disappear upstairs. He reappeared shortly with a futon and pillow. He fluffed up the sheets, set down the blanket, then laid down beside (Y/n). "I'll be right here, just go to sleep already."

"This isn't some sleep over..."

Akaza snorted, fangs cutely protruding from his lips. "I'm literally here everyday, what makes me laying down in a futon any different? If I'm going to lay here, I might as well get comfortable since there's no point in laying on the tatami." (Y/n) rubbed at her eyes. "After months of never bothering to use a futon? Sure. This is just an excuse to make sure I don't do anything, isn't it?"

He shrugged, a smug smirk rising to his lips. "Who knows? You're smart, Wonder Girl, I'm sure you already know the answer." A low groan was all she answered with. Akaza was being too much today. Heck, even the flickering candlelight, too bright for (Y/n)'s aching head, made her groan. "How am I suppposed to sleep?"

A quiet hum filled the room, a sweet tune (Y/n) often sang when she missed home. She opened her eyes. Akaza stared at the ceiling (maybe he was too embarrassed to look at her), arms wrapped behind his head as he hummed ever so softly. This song, a melody Oyaji used to sing before bedtime, reminded her of those nights spent talking under the blankets hoping he wouldn't catch her and the boys talking all night. (Y/n) recalled the manga she binge read with Hari and Kai, the stifled cackles they all hid behind pillows, and the snacks snuck into the room.

A small smile twitched upon (Y/n)'s lips. Her heart filled with warmth, easing her worries to the night breeze outside. Those days had always been carefree and exhilarating. When Oyaji found out, he was always mildly annoyed and at the ready with a long lecture of why sleep was important. (Y/n) imagined those nostalgically sweet nights and nestled into the curve of her pillow, eyes fluttering closed.

Akaza glanced at her peaceful expression and smiled. He laid on his side, gaze overflowing with a loving affection. To think this little human girl had changed his heart ever so. He thought of his years alone as the demon known as Upper Moon Three. No one he came across was ever able to tell the tale, for they were dead. Consumed by him.

Yet here Akaza sat, beside Chisaki (Y/n), a child from the future. He vowed to protect and cherish her, and to become stronger to protect her. There were still plenty of beings who could intervene with their peaceful life. If anyone ever so much as tried to break it, Akaza would have no problem becoming the very thing so many feared. A monster. A being of darkness. A servant of evil.

The night seemed to draw out for eternity. What was this pain, this deep-seated worry in Akaza's chest? He ran a hand through his pink locks, a frown pulling at the edges of his lips. He sighed and sat up, criss-cross. Maybe a bit of meditation could help him.

Every now and then (Y/n) shifted in her sleep. She mumbled to herself, thrashed around with shallow breaths. The candles flickered and Akaza stood. Meditation could wait. He scooted closer to (Y/n), adjusting her sheets so she wouldn't get cold. Then he gently pulled her back to the centre of her futon and laid her pillow under her head.

"Why do you often have bad dreams?" he quietly whispered. "It seems the only foe you ever face is yourself."

A quiet whimper filled the room, along with a raspy cough shortly after. Akaza frowned to himself. (Y/n) didn't suffer from nightmares on the daily, but when she did, they were violent, filled with dreadful images of the dead and a broken future. Her tormented cries were always frightening, a beast of horror that made Akaza's heart clench within his chest.

What always hurt the most was that he couldn't help. How did one begin to conquer something that lived within their mind?

The next day came with the scarily bright sun outside. In the lantern-lit estate where not a drop of its rays could shine, (Y/n) wasn't faring well. Her cheeks had turned pale and pasty while her eyes were raw and irritated from some sort of allergy. Then there was her cough.

It filled the air like a broken record on constant repeat. Cough. Cough. Cough.

Akaza wasn't sure how much more his ears could take. The raspy, choked sounds made his head spin with worry. There was something so familiar, so irritatingly close to a faint memory, he could not reach. As if Muzan himself were trying to make sure those old things stayed locked away, forever forgotten to space and time.

(Y/n) slept for nearly a full day. When she awoke the next night, Akaza made sure to haul her to the bathroom for a hot bath. He hoped the steam would help her congested sinuses and detox her infected system. Humans were quite frail despite their physical strength. That was an undeniable fact, a tiny little fear he kept stored in the crevices of his aged mind (and would never admit out loud).

"How are you feeling?" Akaza gently inquired. He dutifully held (Y/n)'s weakened body against his strong chest, steps a lulling song to her groggy mind. "You slept so much you missed your meals. I was worried you would sleep for a few more days like last time."

(Y/n) vaguely recalled the first time she awoke in this estate. Akaza had been extremely good at keeping light conversation. He knew what to ask, how to make (Y/n) talk, and when to listen.

It was the first time in a long time she had spoken to someone new. (Y/n) had stayed within her circle of friends (Hari, the Yakuza members, and Eri) because her so-called friends bullied her for being a Yakuza's daughter. The moment she met Akaza, the two had, well, clicked.

Yes, their beginning was a little rocky and filled with the occasional misunderstanding, but that was eventually hurdled over. And now (Y/n) lay here—in the arms of a bedtime creature Oyaji told as folk and fable.

Akaza gently brushed a sticky strand of hair away from (Y/n)'s eyes. She stared up into his gaze so adoring and affectionate. "Don't fall asleep on me now," he said with a pestering smirk, "I found herbal bath salts upstairs, they should help you recover swiftly. I'll wait outside the door if you need anything."

Akaza was not a demon, or a monster. He was (Y/n)'s very best friend (and maybe she had one of those outside of her inner circle long ago, but that face had long disappeared, for he had run away and gone far, far away).

"Thank you, Akaza." (Y/n) tiredly said. He tentatively set her down on her feet. As he opened the door to the bathroom, warm, puffy clouds of steam wafted into the air. "Don't stay in here too long either, or you'll get dizzy."

The door quietly shut. (Y/n) sluggishly removed her clothing, washed, and then climbed into the tub. It was rather luxurious for its time in a random nook in the mountains. Sleek wood, a cover to fit over the tub, and windows just above. There were two dyed sheets of cloth tacked to the wall in some fashion of a painting (or were they just old washcloths? She had no idea).

The bathroom was more silent than a graveyard. Since Akaza was a demon, he didn’t make much noise. There was no need to since he was a creature of the night. The more (Y/n) meditated on the thought, the more unsettled it made her. The quiet made her skin crawl. "Akaza?"

"I'm here." he affirmed. "What is it?"

(Y/n) didn’t know what it was she needed. Usually, that was the last of her worries when she was more focused on what others needed from her. "You're really quiet today." That was the lamest thing she had said in a while. Akaza seemed to think the same thing because he laughed all cheekily. "Aw, did you miss my amazing voice already? Most people don't like me because I can't stop talking, but I love conversations since it enriches the mind with new information. Most find it annoying."

A smile tugged at the edges of (Y/n)'s lips. That was better. Maybe Akaza had just been really worried and opted to stay quiet to his thoughts. She tiredly nodded to herself. "No. I like talking to you." Outside the door, Akaza perked up like a puppy to its owner. "Well, that's no surprise since we live together. If this were day one, you would think different."

"Maybe," she agreed. "But...I appreciate it...over silence."

"Really?"

"Mhmm." (Y/n) adjusted her seating in the old tub. "Remember the day you came back after that long assignment?"

Akaza quietly hummed in acknowledgement. Through the thin door, it was easy to hear how loudly he shifted about (on purpose?). Discomfort settled in the air, heavily weighing upon (Y/n)'s shoulders as she continued. "What made you realise how mean it was for you to say all those things?"

The bluntness of the question brought a bitter smile to Akaza's lips. He leaned his head back against the door, gaze tilted to the ceiling. It was nice to know (Y/n) wasn't afraid to be so blunt when the time called. "I met an old blind woman in the mountains. She fell and began to call for help since she twisted her ankle. I just so happened to be passing by. I wasn't going to help her, it wasn't my business, but she kept yelling and whinging. I was probably a good half mile away before I walked back to help her."

(Y/n) ran a hand through her damp locks. She untangled the knots, hands languidly falling through the strands. "You felt guilty." Akaza shrugged on the other side of the door. "I don't know," --he just didn't want to admit he had gone soft-- "but that's besides the point. I carried her down the mountain since she could have been eaten by a pack of wolves. Town was only about a mile from the foot of the mountain, not too far."

"The old lady would have died." (Y/n) muttered. "Too weak to walk so far..."

"That's what I thought. Why should I help a weak being? Only the strongest survive, and by twisting her ankle, she proved she was one of the weak." Akaza's jaw tensed, shoulders tightening. "On the way down, I asked her about what her definition of strength was. She said it relied on 'how determined a person was to reach their goals'. And I believe she meant: those who are weak need to be taught, because that is how everyone begins. As long as you wish to do something and are willing to be taught, you will be strong."

An uncomfortable wave of nostalgia washed over Akaza's mind. He felt foggy, like he were wadding through maple syrup. His mind couldn't seem to catch up to the churn building in his gut. Where was this all coming from? Had someone told him that before?

The answer was yes, yet that was a memory too high to reach, too far to grasp. He couldn't remember.

"I brought the old lady home and she thanked me by giving me a bag of rice and vegetables from her garden. She didn't have much to spare, but she insisted I take it after I told her no." Akaza shrugged to himself with a shake of his head. "And because she was blind, she didn't realise what I was."

"She was...blind?"

"Yes. She couldn't see at all." Akaza took a moment to stare at the tattoos along his pale hands. "She was a poor, old woman. I don't know why I didn't just leave her there. I've always minded my business, and I don't help people. The old woman will die soon anyway, I could tell from her flesh."

(Y/n) rested her head against the tub, gaze trailing after the steam clouding the air. "Well...you helped me plenty." A snort escaped Akaza's lips. "That was different. You interested me with your Quirk. That old lady sprained her ankle, nothing special. People die all the time from injuries."

"But...you made the decision...to help her." (Y/n) felt herself smile, albeit tiredly. "That...was kind of you, Akaza." His chest swelled at the words of this little ten year old beyond the bathroom door. He didn't quite understand why, but another part of him didn't need to know. "Maybe," he quietly agreed. "Maybe it was kind."

Another moment passed before he told (Y/n) she needed to get out of the bath. Once she was clothed and ready to go, Akaza swooped her into his arms like a young toddler.

"I can walk." (Y/n) muttered with a sleepy blink. "It's okay, Akaza."

A condescending smirk rose to his lips (he didn't really mean it). "Look at you, trying to act all strong again when your body can barely catch up to your mind. Your Fighting Spirit has lowered again along with your strength. I don't need my BDA to tell."

Oh. Heat threatened to crawl up (Y/n)'s cheeks in embarrassment. The very thought of having to be treated like this was already deadly to her pride. To have Akaza even add on that he could tell from a glance? Well, (Y/n) thought she would combust. Gods, did she hate how smugly he smiled at her.

Akaza set (Y/n) down at the dinner table and bundled her up in a blanket. "I know it's spring, but it doesn't hurt to stay warm. Your fever could still come back."

An irritated frown rose to (Y/n)'s lips. Akaza's touch, gentle as snow, and his eyes, more loving and affectionate than even Oyaji, made her melt into his every command. And maybe that was his plan--to get her to listen and comply so he could take care of her without any snarky retorts.

Akaza knew (Y/n) couldn't say no when he looked at her like that. Sneaky bastard.

"I found a recipe book not too long ago." The clatter of pots and pans startled (Y/n) out of her sluggish stupor. She frowned a little with a huff as Akaza shuffled through the cabinets in search for ingredients. "The recipes were a little too complicated. They're all gourmet and stuff, so I'll just make you zosui if that's okay."

A tired yawn escaped (Y/n)'s lips in reply. Heh, how complicated was he talking about? For a while, Akaza had trouble cracking eggs without having the shells break all over the place. He didn't know his strength either when he tried chopping vegetables at first. It was always a funny sight, especially when he called it a day to stick to the easiest recipe in the book (zosui).

(Y/n) snuggled into the warm blankets with a shiver and set her head down on the dinner table. An odd thought occurred to her. "Why...do you wear a vest...but no shirt?" That was a stupid question. On any regular day, (Y/n) wouldn't be so bold as to sound as if she had no brain cells, but with the way her mind swam like little baby fish upstream, she could not think straight.

Akaza turned to stare, and with a snort, (Y/n) broke into a hysteric fit of giggles.

"What are you laughing at?"

Yeah, what was (Y/n) laughing at? Akaza made entertaining expressions (that made him look awfully young), but it wasn't that funny. All he really did was frown and raise a brow in bewilderment anyway. (Y/n) stifled a snort and fell onto her back. She rolled around until she was only a few paces away from Akaza's feet. With a smile she said, "Hi."

Akaza did not know whether to be passive, worried, or amused. Chisaki (Y/n), for as long as he knew her, had always been a mature, young adult. She knew the best combos to take out a fully grown man, how to kill a person with a single touch, and defend herself against demons. But this? Akaza had never seen such wild activity.

It was actually...terrifying.

"Are you okay?" The answer was definitely a 'no', but he still wanted to ask anyway. "You're not acting yourself. I've never seen you roll around like a caterpillar."

"Who are you calling...a caterpillar?" (Y/n) rolled back to the table in her blanket burrito with a sigh. "I'm okay." She paused, shutting her eyes. "I'll wait for you to finish cooking..." Akaza went back to shuffling through the cabinets with a hum of agreement. (Y/n) needed her sleep desperately.

---

The colours of spring brought the breezy forest to life. (Y/n) sat on the engawa, back pressed to the supporting beam as she snuggled into the snowflake pattered haori. It smelled strongly of all the herbal remedies Akaza had brewed for her all week.

(Y/n) wasn't prone to getting sick. At the most, she only ever contracted the common cold (and when that happened, Kai made sure it went away within a day). But this? It wasn't hypothermia, much less the common cold, meaning it wouldn't go away. (Y/n)'s resilient body was made for taking anything. Why should it break down now in nineteen whatever in a random forest in the middle of nowhere where the next village was about two hours away? Yeah, why should it? Not like this was a completely off-grid home anyway.

Moonlight fell over (Y/n)'s rosy cheeks as she adjusted her position against the beam. "It's been a week and I'm still sick," she grumbled under her breath. "That's never happened before. Maybe I have COVID-19." Akaza set down a tray of tea and sat criss-cross. "What's that?"

A cynical chuckle escaped (Y/n)'s lips. "Something you won't have to know about for a long, long time."

Akaza didn't question it. At this point, he was more concerned about (Y/n)'s health than her futuristic references he would never quite understand (Rick-Roll and the words 'slay' and 'lit', for example). It seemed that no matter what sort of teas she drank, she never truly got better. Anytime Akaza offered to bring (Y/n) to an actual doctor, she refused like the stubborn child she was.

"What if you don't get better?" The question had escaped Akaza's lips before he could stop it. "You're barely able to keep your strength for more than a few hours before resting. Your time outside in the sun seemed to help a little, but it's not working as fast as I thought it would."

A small hum of agreement left (Y/n)'s lips. "You can't expect that to work so quickly. It doesn't work like that."

"Then how can I help you recover more efficiently?" he worriedly inquired. "I can't stand to see you practically cough your lungs out." The jab made a smile rise to (Y/n)'s lips. She released a breath through her nose in a laugh that made Akaza feel little bit better. Then she coughed and his heart sank.

The flowers swayed in calming breezes just beyond the engawa. It was funny how nature continued to bloom despite the bleak conditions (Y/n) endured. If only Akaza knew what to do to help her get better. It was obvious she got sick from something other than rain, but what was it? And what could he do to make sure she wouldn't--

"Gosh, stop making that face Bakaza." (Y/n) scolded. "I'm sure I just got sick because my body's adjusting to the seasons and all these new things I'm experiencing. I'm more surprised I didn't get sick the first week I was here."

That was true. (Y/n)'s body, resilient and strong, had sustained brutal challenging training under Akaza's careful instruction. He never pushed too hard, a smart decision considering (Y/n) was still a puny ten year old (he took that into account), but that didn't mean the new routines hadn't put a strain on her body.

Maybe this was the result. A week and plus in bed.

By the end of the month, (Y/n)'s coughing had died down. She had a set routine: sit in the sunlight for a good few hours, take a nap, go back outside, have a meal, and so on. The routine repeated through the night since the forest air did good to keep (Y/n)'s lungs refreshed (miraculously).

A burning question filtered into her head the longer the illness stayed. How could Akaza, a few hundred years old demon, care for an ill person such as herself? Every time she claimed she was getting better, Akaza would refute, bring her teas and hot soups with a raise of his brow.

And each time Akaza insisted (Y/n) rest, he had been right, for the next day, she would awake with barely any strength to get herself outside into the sun. Her body, for whatever reason, was deteriorating at a rapid pace. Overhaul was not any help because (Y/n) didn't understand what was wrong with her body. Internally and externally, she was fine.

Then came that burning question she tried so hard to snuff out. How could she simply ignore it? Akaza was a demon, and she, a human. What would happen if she died? No matter how badly (Y/n) didn't want to think about it, that was fact. One day, Akaza was bound to outlive her. Through and through.

Salty waves lapped at (Y/n)'s feet as she dug her feet into the sand. She kept a hand around Akaza's forearm as he guided her carefully through the deep blue sea. "Say, Akaza," --the cool waves helped calm the heavy beat of (Y/n)'s heart-- "do you think I'll ever recover?"

His hand found her own, intertwining their fingertips. "Why wouldn't you recover?" Akaza inquired. His tone was light, with an edge of caution. "You've stopped coughing. I think that's progress even though it's been about a month." A frown pulled at the edges of (Y/n)'s lips. She gave Akaza's hand a squeeze, kicked lamely at the sea foam by her ankles. "What if I don't survive? I can't figure out why I'm ill and I've used my Quirk on myself plenty."

"We'll figure it out." Akaza stated. "You won't die. I promise." Whether (Y/n) believed him or not, she wasn't sure herself. A pained sigh ran past her lips. "And if I do die, what will you do?"

"You won't die." Akaza was avoiding the question. "I won't let that happen."

But was that true? Was it in Akaza's power to save (Y/n) if the time came? His only option would be to turn her into a demon, but to do that would forfeit everything she had built herself upon. The freedom of expression, of confidence, of being yourself.

That would all disappear.

"Stop beating around the bush." Akaza said with a distasteful frown. "No matter what happens, I won't turn you into a demon." Truth fell upon his persimmon eyes swirling with tiny storms. Under the moonlight, (Y/n) saw. He was vulnerable. Afraid. Not of death, but of the possibilities that could happen to this fragile thing called life.

Humans were weak. Frail. They died easily, then turned into nothingness (just like Eri's parents). Yet somehow, Akaza, a demon who obsessed over the strong and skilled, would never have it any other way. Above being a formidable opponent, (Y/n) was, well, (Y/n).

His (Y/n).

And he wouldn't have her any other way.

--

Summer rolled around quicker than (Y/n) could have expected. Before she could enjoy sakura season to its fullest, or admire the hydrangeas dancing in the wild grass, heat waves passed throughout the lands, drying the poor flowers to death. (Y/n) lay on the tatami, a fan in hand as moonlight poured from the open windows. Cooling breezes caressed her cheeks languidly, bringing along with it the humid air of the forest.

Akaza, ever the attentive caretaker, appeared by (Y/n)'s side. He set down a tray of herbal tea and spoke the dreaded question of the day: "How are you feeling?"

The answer was repeatedly the same for the past week--'fine'.

Whatever 'fine' meant, (Y/n) did not know. She turned on her side to meet a pair of glittering eyes the colour of persimmons. "Everyday feels the same."

"You're plateauing," Akaza concluded with a nod of his head. "That's not good, but it isn't bad either. I'm relieved you've gained enough strength to slowly move on your own again. I heard there will be fireworks a few towns over from here next month. If you're feeling better by then, I'll take you."

(Y/n) blinked curiously. "Don't you hate fireworks?"

"Yes." Akaza said with a purse of his lips. "But I'm sure it'll be fun for you. Have you ever been to a festival?" (Y/n) thought for a moment. Now that she thought of it, Kai always refused to go whenever Oyaji inquired about it. Kai was a bit stuck-up when it came to events, and since he and Hari were besties, the two would always outvote (Y/n). Instead, everyone spent the day at the beach instead as compensation.

Oyaji used to say Kai and Hari were kill-joys. Now that (Y/n) thought about it, maybe he was kind of right. Didn't everyone attend festivals at this time of year anyway? It was an important part of Japanese culture, and it didn't hurt to go just to see what it was like.

"I used to hear my classmates talk about how the festivals were always fun because they dressed up in their yukata and hung out with their friends." (Y/n) shrugged lamely to herself. "I didn't really have friends, and I don't really like crowded places either. I heard the food there was always good that time of year." (Y/n) slowly sat up with a shrug. "I haven't had street food in a while. It's junk, but some of it tastes good. As for the fireworks...I haven't seen any in a long time."

A smirk rose to Akaza's lips as he jokingly rolled his eyes. "Well, sorry I can't afford to bring you to a gourmet, five-star restaurant," --he laughed teasingly and his little fangs poked out from his lips-- "I promise to take you to the festival. If we miss it, then we can always go next year, right? Then you can eat anything you want and we can watch the fireworks together."

(Y/n) smiled gratefully. "Okay."

It had to have been a miracle of sorts. When the heat came full swing with the chirping of cicadas, (Y/n) had finally made a full recovery. She began with a new training regime to help her body get back into the swing of things, and thankfully, made good progress.

Then came the day of the festival. A peaceful walk through the night, a long stay through the day in an abandoned home down the lane, and then another night of travel. The two took their time, basking in the warmth of their shared presences.

The festival was a splendid cacophony of music, chatter, and colour. Stalls lined the streets in long rows, lanterns flickered their warm light across the dirt roads. Akaza had (somehow) been able to morph his appearance to appear human.

And, well, he looked...handsome, to say the least. That was a lot considering (Y/n) was A.) ten years of age and B.) already considered him a looker. Big, beautiful eyes with luscious pink lashes, fluffy tufts of hair, and a face that looked more gentle than a baby's.

How could Akaza, Upper Moon Three, look so soft? When (Y/n) asked, he laughed with that sultry voice of his.

"Baby face?" he echoed with a smirk. "If there's anyone here who looks like a baby, it's you. You're literally ten years old." All (Y/n) did was huff. "You should take a good look in the mirror before disagreeing." Akaza gave her shoulder a friendly punch. "Ten year old."

"What is that supposed to--"

"Here." Akaza clipped something in (Y/n)'s hair. "I thought you might like this." She fiddled with the clip and pulled it out from her locks. Precious jewels glittered under her fingertips in the starlight, a formation tentatively placed into the geometric shape of a snowflake. (Y/n) turned to him, a brow raised. "Did you steal this? It looks expensive."

A sheepish smirk upon Akaza's lips was a dead give away. He rubbed at his hair and shrugged without guilt. "Why not let it slide this once? I promise I won't steal again. This was a one time thing only because the person I stole from was trying to rip off his customers by tripling the price."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, a smile tugging on her lips. She brushed a loose strand behind her ear, clipping the snowflake into her dark locks. "Thank you, it's beautiful."

"You're welcome." Akaza smiled gently in that soft way he always did. "It reminded me of you."

The fireworks that night lit up the sky in loud bursts of light. They were noisy and it may or may not have startled (Y/n), but the more she watched, the more she came to appreciate the showcase. Fireworks: Brilliant for a single moment, only to disperse into the darkness. It was sad, wasn't it? Only that which was beautiful could ever come to such an early demise.

Oh how right (Y/n) had been.

The beginning of December: cold, wintry, snowy. Thick layers of white blanketed the forests in the soft downfall. In the wee hours of the morning, (Y/n) slept ever so soundly. She shifted in her sleep, head bumping into the side of Akaza's elbow from where he lay beside her, a book in hand.

The nightmares had begun to lessen and ease filled Akaza's heart at the very prospect of such progress. The last thing he wanted was for (Y/n) to suffer. He would rather give his life than to see that with his very eyes.

A chilly breeze filled the room and Akaza forced himself to stop from shivering. (Y/n) must have felt it too because she shifted. Her eyes snapped open, wide, alert with caution. "Someone...coming...?" she groggily inquired.

This presence. This feeling. Akaza's stomach churned, heart hammering dangerously. "What is he doing here?"

(Y/n) sat up. "He?"

Akaza soundlessly made his way to the door, fists clenched tight at his sides. He quietly opened it and strode through the powdery snow. By the yard's willow tree stood a man with blond hair and a sickly innocent smile upon his lips.

A sneer rose to Akaza's lips. "Get lost, Douma."

Douma's smile only widened. He waved a hand about, laughing as the willow tree swayed in the chilly winds. How dare he stand where (Y/n) stood?

"Oh, don't be like that Akaza-dono!" The lazy drawl in Douma's voice made his skin crawl like maggots. "I was just passing through when I thought I felt a familiar presence. How long has it been? Fifty? No, like, ninety years? I never thought I'd find you around these parts."

A creeping itch fell upon Akaza's clenched fists, veins protruding against his pale skin. In a single step he appeared before Douma and rammed his fist straight into his jaw. It ripped through the hard flesh until flesh ripped and soared high into the midnight skies. Blood splattered against the pure snow, red blossoms like camellias.

Douma clutched at his missing jaw. The flesh quickly regenerated, an empty laugh filling the frigid air. "Have you gotten weaker?" Those unnervingly colourful eyes pierced through Akaza's flesh. "Oh, and from here, I can tell that little girl you keep around is delicious. How old?"

"Leave." Blood thrummed to the beat of Akaza's raging heart. "And don't come back."

A snort escaped Douma's thinly curved lips. He flapped open a fan, giving it a careless wave. "Oh, come on, don't be so cold. I just want to see who's caught your attention! I might even take a little bite--"

Blood stained the snowy lands in red, laughter echoing hauntingly through the frigid forest. Douma's arm fell to the ground, limp. A breeze passed, cold, icy. Akaza's jaw tensed so tight he thought his teeth might snap. "Leave," he seethed. "You have no business here." Douma gave his sharp fan a precarious whirl. "Oh, but I do, Akaza-dono. If Muzan-sama found out that you were having too much fun with a human, then what would he say? I saw her, y'know."

Akaza's eyes widened. He could sense Douma's distasteful presence from miles, how was it possible he discovered his house without him knowing? Douma laughed as cold as the snowfall. "Hmm...it had to be one or two months ago, I believe. Your little girl was wandering the village with two demon slayers. I was going to gobble them all up, but she caught my eye."

A long, drawn out sigh escaped Douma's lips. "I mean, come on, what kind of ten year old can fight like that? The demon was decently strong because he ate all the little girls in town--and you know how nutritious they are. That girl's tiny fist went straight through the demon's flesh when she hit him! The poor thing, it looked like she didn't want to fight, so she dodged all the demon's advances."

Douma caught a snowflake in his hand. He watched it lay in his palm, never fully melting against his unnaturally pale skin. "Anyway, I thought her fighting style was similar to yours. She's very smart, seemed to realise I was around since she looked a little on edge. So I left before I could investigate further. But anyway, I found your place by accident since I saw your footprints that night. With all the snow tonight, I was getting really tired walking here! It's lucky I found you, huh?"

Akaza tensely pursed his lips in distaste. The nerve Douma had to even suggest Akaza would accept him as as a guest. What kind of maniac did he take him to be?

Douma took a step forward and slung an arm around Akaza's shoulders. The air grew colder. "Why don't you introduce me to her, huh? I had a human that I liked some time ago, but she died. It was so tragic." Tears formed in the edges of Douma's rainbow hues. He sniffled dramatically, rubbing at the droplets upon his cheeks.

Fake. It was all fake. For as long as Akaza had known, Douma was only a fraud. He only ever smiled hollowly, only laughed because it was too quiet, and only called Akaza his 'best friend' in a sad attempt to make himself feel something. Maybe most demons were like that, one way or another. They craved what they could never truly have.

But what did Akaza care? He would rip Douma to shreds if he could and laugh over his cold, dead body.

"I don't care about your life story," Akaza growled. "Get lost." A vein appeared on his forehead as Douma dramatically sighed in disappointment. "As your friend, I only wanted to tell you that Muzan-sama won't be happy when he finds out that you've trained a human. She's on the level of a Hashira, you'll make him angry, you know! Maybe you should get rid of her. I'll gladly bring her to paradise!"

A fresh wave of boiling hot anger filled Akaza's gut. He could already imagine Douma with (Y/n) in his arms, devouring her dead body with an innocent smile. Blood would seep into the pure snow, staining it red. Red. Red. With a sharp breath, Akaza threw a kick. "Shut up!"

The trees rustled as Douma side-stepped with a smile. "I'm getting bored, so I'll leave now. Have fun while it lasts!" And he was gone before even Akaza could blink. Flurries of snow fluttered where Douma had once been, leaving only empty space and a faint outline of his shoes.

Have fun while it lasts.

Akaza's fist landed in a patch of ice, where puffs of white flew into the cloudy midnight skies. He spared the willow tree, only because it was (Y/n)'s favourite. "Next time," puffs of white left his lips and curled into the air, "I'll kill you for sure."

"Upper Moon Two?"

Akaza tensed and turned around, meeting a pair of wide golden hues. (Y/n) gave the crater below his fist a slow nod, gaze flickering to meet his stormy eyes. "I can see why you don't like him." Akaza stepped away from the crater, hard expression softening. "Your body still needs to rest. You should be inside."

A small humourless chuckle escaped (Y/n)'s lips. It was incredible how quickly he had calmed in her mere presence. "How can I sleep? You could be in danger because of me." Akaza scoffed. "Me? What about you?" She shrugged, a frown pulling at her lips. "That doesn't matter. What will happen to you? I'm sure Muzan already has a general clue of what you've been doing all this time."

Akaza sourly kicked at a patch of snow on the ground. It flew into the air, fluttering away with an icy breeze. "Whatever happens, I promise to protect you." he firmly stated. "I don't know what to do, but I'll figure it out. Don't worry." (Y/n) sent him a side-glance with a shake of her head. "If you protect me, who will protect you?"

A pang in Akaza's gut made his stomach lurch. He placed a gentle hand to (Y/n)'s shoulder, lips pursed tight in thought. Snow fluttered from the heavens in the dead of night, where not even the winter animals dared make a peep. Even the moon, so adamant on shining down on the Earth, refused to shine that night.

Since Douma's appearance, the two took extra care to remain unseen. That lingering threat stayed in the back of Akaza's mind like glue. During training, he seemed to work harder to strengthen (Y/n)'s skills, and throughout their downtime, he stuck to her side attached at the hip.

"A new technique?" (Y/n) inquired with a tilt of her head.

Akaza handed her a book. "I've been reading this for a while. It's a journal with records about swordsman techniques used by the demon slayers. I found it upstairs." (Y/n) flipped through the beautifully bound book with a small chuckle. "You find a lot of random things upstairs in the attic."

"And you would too if you just came with me."

The attic had always been a place (Y/n) self-proclaimed to be off-limits since Akaza told her someone committed suicide there. She wouldn't dare set foot in a place where a body had been swinging from the ceiling. Gods, the very thought sent a shiver down her spine. "I don't think so."

Akaza gave (Y/n)'s shoulder a light punch. "I wouldn't make you come anyway. I know it makes you uncomfortable." He peered over her shoulder across the pages scrawled in beautiful calligraphy. "That's the breathing technique right there. I studied it a little, but it got a sorta bland and I dropped it halfway through."

A snort escaped (Y/n)'s lips. Of course he did. Akaza was always more of a 'fist-to-fist' person than a swordsman--it just wasn't his style. She turned a page of the journal, leaned under the engawa to protect it from the falling snow. "This sounds awfully familiar to me. I'm sure I might have heard about this from Oyaji."

"That would explain your change in breathing." Akaza thoughtfully noted. (Y/n) stared up at him, brows furrowed. "What do you mean?" He cocked his head to the side, mimicking (Y/n)'s confusion with a raised brow. "You haven't realised it?"

Realise it?

Realise what?

(Y/n) didn't know what techniques were used by the slayers. A name was never truly given to their special abilities, only a long-winded explanation on the know-how. She had tried the breathing technique before as a child, but it wasn't like she used it to train.

"You really haven't realised it." Akaza incredulously stated. "When we spar, you take long breaths that make an odd whistling sound, like wind through an icy cave. That's how you've been able to keep up with me, that and your quick learning."

(Y/n) tilted her head to the side just like Akaza did when he had trouble understanding something. An odd whistling sound? She thought of the strength building up in her limbs the moment she heaved in a breath, and the seconds after where a faint burning filled her chest. "Oh. You mean that thing?" she inquired with a laugh. "Wait, I thought that was just breathing with extra steps."

Akaza did not know whether to be impressed or disappointed by his dear girl's ignorance. He face-palmed. "Wow, you really are a wonder, you know that?"

(Y/n) turned a page of the book with a snort. Scrawled upon the pages were 'total concentration breathing' and 'Breath of Ice' in black ink. It had over eight forms, with a wide variety of titles and details about its strengths and weaknesses. "There are instructions about 'Total Concentration Breathing Constant'. It must be like the breathing technique I was using, but...constant. Is that even possible?"

"We can try." Akaza said with a clap of his hands. "You ready to start training?"

---

Frigid, icy air. Snowflakes against the tip of (Y/n)'s nose. Frosty breezes that filled her veins. This was the real deal, the thing she heard in legends and stories Oyaji used to tell before bedtime. She heaved in a breath, focusing on the oxygen traveling throughout her veins.

Fifteen minutes. It had been fifteen minutes since (Y/n) began with Total Concentration Breathing Constant. Pressure built up in her lungs, simply begging to burst from her chest. Sweat dribbled down her temple, little droplets preparing to freeze.

A grin painted itself upon Akaza's lips as he laughed in pure delight. "You're doing so well keeping this up while sparring! It's incredible how fast you've gotten simply by using this technique." A strained laugh escaped (Y/n)'s throat. She heaved in a heavy breath, paused to lean over her knees. "It...feels like my lungs...are going to...burst...!"

Akaza picked up the journal and flipped to the bookmarked page. "Apparently that's how it should feel when you're beginning," he scrunched up his nose, "which will likely continue once you learn how to use a katana." Another heavy breath escaped (Y/n)'s lips. She zipped open her jacket and flopped down in the cool snow with a groan. "I thought...you didn't...know how to...use a...katana...?"

"I don't, but if you have to fend off unsavory demons, you have to know how to use one at some point."

Unsavory demons. The words stuck in (Y/n)'s head as thick as pine sap. A cloud of white curled into the air as she sat up with a long breath. Ever since Douma's appearance, Akaza had been on edge. Clenched fists, the tensing at the nearest unnatural sounds, then the advancements in training. Akaza feared the future, whether he admitted it or not.

And really, it wasn't without good reason.

December thirty-first marked the last day of the year. Snow piled high against the estate as the wind howled like wolves to the night. The moon hid behind thick, gray clouds, casting the world into a canvas of black. The night was peaceful. Since it was snowing too hard to go outside, (Y/n) showed Akaza how to paint a butterfly in a field of grass. The two laughed over dumb things and smiled over tea.

Then, all went quiet. The howling wind came to a standstill and the falling snow ceased to make its quick descent while the flames flickering went out one by one. Deep in (Y/n)'s bones, she sensed it, a presence older than Akaza. A being darker than night--a demon, a devil, a monster.

Akaza quickly shot up to his feet with only a single word at his lips: "Run."

In the snowy forest (Y/n) had come to love, her feet took her far, far away. Blood thumped in her ears, a single beacon reverberating against the silence of night. This was the horror that walked through the night, the very terror (Y/n) had only heard from bedtime stories meant to scare children to sleep.

That presence was Kibutsuji Muzan, the progenitor of the demon race.

Taisho Era Secrets!
-Akaza knows how to draw and paint because of (Y/n)
-(Y/n) realised that she is decently inclined in the fine arts
-Akaza began to read more often because of (Y/n)'s love for books. The two used to spend a good amount of time by the windows on rainy days reading in the quiet
-Douma accidentally sold Akaza out. When he realised, he felt a little bad since he had his own human pet not too long ago
-Muzan hadn't planned to kill (Y/n), but once Douma mentioned her out loud, he changed his mind
-The wife of the samurai family (who used to live in the estate before Akaza ate the family) drove his wife to suicide. When she hung herself in the attic, it took half a week for the husband to discover the body
-Akaza's favourite moments are when he and (Y/n) cook or read together (even though he's not very good at either)
-(Y/n) once joked that Akaza has the potential to be a good househusband
-Akaza got really silent in embarrassment. He wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not

Chapter Text

'Dad always told me, "Don't you cry when you're down"
But mum, there's a tear every time that I blink
Oh I'm in pieces, it's tearing me up, but I know
A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved...'
-Supermarket Flowers, Ed Sheeran

(Y/n)'s eyes snapped open. She sat up quickly, gaze darting around the room. A breath escaped her lips, puffs of white faintly wafting into the air. A warm blanket, draped over her body fell to her waist as she adjusted her position. She glanced around the spacious, bouncing between paintings and windows against the tan walls.

In the depths of (Y/n)'s groggy mind, she had half a head to wonder whose room this was. It wasn't the living room she slept in day in and day out beside Akaza. There was no hearth here popping with flames, much less any warmth. At the thought of Akaza, (Y/n)'s heart leapt from her chest.

Where is Akaza? Is he safe? Is he alright?

She jumped to her feet and tore open the window. A snow-filled breeze frigid to the bone assaulted (Y/n)'s exposed skin. She shivered, gripping the icy windowsill with a grit of her teeth. Akaza--she had to find him, make sure he was alright. She threw a foot out the window, but before she could shove her face into the snow outside, footsteps caught her ear.

Fudge. Whose house was this?

A familiar presence answered her questions: warm, brotherly, fierce as a flame. The door opened quietly. A boy with bright hair like fire and eyes wide with unmatched enthusiasm stepped in with a carbon copy of himself in tow. He held a tray of steaming tea and food.

"I don't recommend that," Rengoku-san said with a laugh, "the snow melted a lot yesterday, but since the temperature dropped, it all turned to ice. You might hurt yourself jumping out like that." He set down the tray by the futon as his carbon copy shut the door. "Come eat before you leave, I'm sure you're hungry."

The warm smile upon Rengoku-san's lips made (Y/n)'s side itch uncomfortably. It was wrong to be in the presence of a demon slayer when her best friend was Upper Moon Three. She couldn't keep associating with Rengoku-san, no matter how kind he was. It was too dangerous.

(Y/n)'s limbs weighed heavily as she stiffly stood by the window. Exhaustion tore a violent shake from her knees, the cold doing no good to ease her across the room. She stumbled, caught herself on the window with a heavy breath, teeth gritted.

Breathe. She had to breathe. But how could she when Akaza was somewhere out there? Alone?

Or even dead?

The image of that man who sent her to the past flashed in her mind. Organs beneath her feet, an eyeball rolling along the snowy forest, crimson blood splatters of blood--what if that was Akaza's body strewn across the house? His blood seeping through the floorboards?

A shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine. She clutched her haori closer, running a trembling finger across the snowflakes dyed into the fabric. The hairpin in her hair weighed more than a rice bag as she slowly stumbled to the futon. She took a seat, gears whirling a thousand kilometres per second. If Kibutsuji hadn't killed Akaza, then it was possible he escaped with a warning (whatever cruel punishment that entailed).

Until (Y/n) knew where Akaza was, she had to formulate a plan to survive.

Rengoku-san and the carbon copy settled in front of the futon. "I found you passed out on the side of the road last night, so I brought you home," Rengoku-san explained. "This is my younger brother Senjuro. Senjuro, this is Chisaki (Y/n), she's a few years older than you." He smiled brightly as Senjuro politely bowed. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." (Y/n) said, sipping the hot tea. "Thank you for taking me in." A chilly breeze blew in from the open window and she shivered. Before (Y/n) could set her cup down, Senjuro stood and closed the window. "It's really cold out today, I don't think you should leave in your condition. Ani-ue told me you looked really sick when he found you, so please, rest before your travels."

The sweet smile Senjuro offered made (Y/n) want to agree. But then the memories came flooding back like a river and her heart throbbed painfully in her chest.

"You have to leave." Akaza had said. "Before he comes."

Was this it for the both of them? After a whole year together, was their only fate to drift apart? (Y/n) shook her head, eyes threatening to blur over with tears. "But what if he kills you? I can't just abandon you! This--this is my fault for being here! He's going to kill you and it will be because--"

Akaza pulled (Y/n) into a secure, loving embrace. He poured his heart out, engraved the last remembrance of humanity he would possess. "Stop apologising," he laughed a little and it was wistful, sad, "there's nothing to be sorry for, this isn't your doing." He sighed, frowning into (Y/n)'s hair. "Besides, I couldn't keep my promise to protect you. I'm sorry."

Three days ago. It had been three days since (Y/n) began running from dusk till dawn. The only reason she had stopped was because she had passed out from exhaustion. How pathetic was that? Fainting, only to be brought to the lair of a demon slayer. (Y/n) gave the tea cup a tight squeeze, but not enough to break it. "Thank you again," --her voice was cold, flat-- "for going through the trouble of taking care of me."

Rengoku-san pursed his lips tightly, thick brows knitting. "What were you running from? Was a demon chasing you?" (Y/n) would have laughed if she could. A pair of blood red eyes, hair darker than night, and an expensive suit. She had always imaged the progenitor of demons to be a menace in flowing robes, not some model from an Indochino magazine--or worse--an evil Michael Jackson reincarnate.

The mere image of his face sent hot waves of fury into (Y/n)'s veins. She heaved out a short breath, shaking her head with a passively cold smile. Long ago, (Y/n) had been part of her school's play. She had (somehow) gotten the second lead only because the teacher wanted to make the other students angry. In the end, (Y/n) had outdone her classmates. It was through those simple plays that she learned how to turn off her emotions at the flip of a switch.

A clinically passive calm fell over (Y/n)'s face. "I must have just been tired. I walked a lot," --the fury settled into her gut, simmering like those pickled vegetables Akaza used to steal-- "and if there were a demon, I must have been lucky. I wasn't paying attention since it was so hard to see." The moon had refused to shine brightly that night. Clouds obscured its view from those under the stars, bathing the world in pure inky black.

Senjuro frowned deeply. "I'm glad you're okay, it's a miracle you weren't hurt."

Not a miracle--a sacrifice. Akaza had laid down his head to ensure (Y/n)'s safety.

And so she ran and ran.

For three days straight.

"It was lucky," she said with a tight purse of her lips. "Very lucky." But luck did not describe the pain that came with abandoning the one who shone with light in the dark.

"(Y/n)," --Kyojurou's serious expression made her tense-- "you don't have anywhere to go after this, do you?" She pursed her lips tighter with an honest shake of her head. "No, I don't."

"Become my Tsuguko." Kyojurou smiled and it was brighter than the very sun shining through the window panes. "It may be difficult, but you have the potential. Last time I saw you, you were battling a demon very well! If you want to, I'd gladly train you to be a demon slayer."

The thirst for Kibutsuji's blood filled (Y/n)'s system. In a blinded fury, she thought of all the possibilities, all the chances she could seize to bring the Demon King to his knees. She imaged his head rolling on the ground, those blood red eyes fearfully wide in defeat.

This was a chance--an opportunity to make things right.

(Y/n) took a glance at the early morning rays shining over the mountaintops. Oranges and yellows filled the blue sky where the moon had long descended to rest. It would be impossible to find Akaza in broad daylight, especially after she had ran to who-knows-where. He made her give her word to run.

Now that she did not run, she had to survive. Live another day in case Akaza had lived. A breath escaped (Y/n)'s lips, resolve steeling in her cold heart. "I accept your offer. Please make me your Tsuguko." Determination rang true in her voice like winter. She bowed deeply, resting her forehead against the tatami. "I won't disappoint you, Rengoku-san."

The first time (Y/n) raised a blade was when she cut open the flesh of a murderer. She was only about four or five. Today, she raised it over the head of a man-eating demon--a thing that clawed through flesh and devoured screaming humans whole.

Blood splattered against the pavement where (Y/n) stood and a man fell to his feet with a strangled gasp, tears streaming down his face. "Thank you," he rested his forehead against the bloody ground in a bow, "thank you for saving my daughter." (Y/n) quietly tilted her head in return, liquid golden eyes softening like snow on a hot day. "Please be careful at night. Your daughter has passed out from shock, but she will be fine."

The man opened his mouth to frantically utter another thank you, but before he could speak, (Y/n) had disappeared into the night. The dirt road winded along the mountain pass smack in the middle of town, where spacious plots of land sat between thick frozen beds of grass. The bare trees did not sway in the chilly wind.

"(Y/n)!" called Kyojurou, lively as a crackling fire. "Thanks for taking that demon for me, I was on the other side of town and things got messier than I thought it would."

The loudmouth was known as (Y/n)'s Hashira, or rather, teacher, was the Rengoku Kyojurou. She hadn't realised it when they first met, but this man was an absolute legend. His name had been recorded in Oyaji's stories, where epic tales of the greatest Hashira had been retold.

(Y/n) rubbed at a small blotch of demon blood on her cheek. A small chuckle escaped Kyojurou's lips as she grimaced, nose brows furrowing tightly in disgust She stuffed the handkerchief into her pocket. "Kyojurou-san, you'll be late for the Hashira meeting," (Y/n) gently chided. "Dawn will come in two hours, there won't be any problems in our district."

A harsh whistle of wind ruffled through Kyojurou's unruly hair. The smile on his lips widened and he ruffled (Y/n)'s hair affectionately. "As hard working as ever," --he spoke fondly, proudly-- "thank you for reminding me, I will see you back home before the afternoon arrives. Stay out of trouble, it seems to find you more often than not."

(Y/n) ran a hand over her messy hair and adjusted the snowflake clip over her loose bangs. It was as if summer had come early at the beck and call of the Flame Hashira. His very touch set (Y/n)'s heart ablaze with passion, made her melt at the slightest bit of affection. She tried for a shy smile and it made Kyojurou's face light up as she said, "Take care, come back safely."

"The same to you!" His grin couldn't have been more blinding, as if (Y/n)'s own smile had literally lit up his world. "Get some sleep in the morning, I know you need it after today." With a wave, he began down the frozen dirt roads and into the frigid forest. (Y/n) waved back and continued in the opposite direction, where the brush was little and the cities overwhelmingly large.

Ever since that night, Akaza hadn't made an appearance. Tactically, it was a smart decision to allow time for the enemy to lose track of its target.

Emotionally, it hurt.

(Y/n) found herself fighting off the cold eating at her heart. It did not beat the same as when she stood beside her companion, reassured by his presence so gentle and loving. (Y/n)'s laugh, once bright and true was now a howl, a cry to the everlasting night where moonlight hid behind the clouds.

She made her way through the silent forest, puffs of white escaping her lips to the starry sky. Her ears followed the music of the late winter breeze, followed the squawking of her crow as she drowned in her heavy thoughts. She would never be the same again, not after all she had seen and been through.

The flap of a strong pair of wings caught (Y/n)'s attention. She held out her arm, where a beautiful black crow firmly landed. "Sleep!" Calliope squawked. "Sleep before you die! Die! Die!"

A frown plastered itself onto (Y/n)'s lips. The one thing that really got on her nerves was the attitude her crow exuded. "Wow, thank you," she icily grumbled. "I didn't know that, Calli. Appreciate your all-seeing guidance oh-so-much."

Calli squawked as if she had achieved world peace. A cackle of sorts echoed through the night as she gave a large beat of her wings. With a long, hard look, she disappeared, her cackles continuing ever on.

Night slowly faded across the horizon. It was in these moments that (Y/n) wondered what Akaza did by himself. During the morning, he used to cook, read, paint, or try copying a dance routine (Y/n) recalled from some music video (which may or may not have been from the hit K-pop bands she once listened to). Then he would sit down beside (Y/n) as she rested through the wee hours of the morning after a long night of training. It had become routine, a little ritual that left the two balanced in harmony.

A harmony that now ceased to exist.

Those days are over, (Y/n) reminded. Akaza was not coming back, whether he was dead or alive. Kibutsuji, for all she knew, was on the prowl to snuff her out, and it seemed that no matter what (Y/n) did, she felt his passive anger piercing the back of her neck.

If (Y/n) had still been with Oyaji, Hari, and Kai, she would be a hero (someone who helped people with a smile). If (Y/n) were with Akaza, then she would live a peaceful life in the woods (where no one could bother either of them). Both paths were blocked by the cruel inconvenience of life. Pushed aside, brushed under the rug.

And now (Y/n) stood here, in front of the Rengoku estate with a katana at her hip and a Hashira for a teacher.

The early morning rays flooded the skies with that classic blue-bird tint. At the estate doors stood Senjuro, cheeks rosy from the cold and plump with youth. A sweet smile graced his face, ever so shy and bashful. "Welcome home." he said, shoveling through the heavy snow. (Y/n) peered over the piles of snow, holding fast to the bright flashes of his thick hanten coat and orange kimono.

(Y/n) wordlessly took the shovel from his tiny hands with a shake of her head.

The monotonous sound of the shovel hitting the snow echoed dully in the morn. "What are you doing out here? Do you know how cold it is?" she inquired. "If not for your clothes, I wouldn't have been able to see you over all this snow."

Little Senjuro (he wasn't that little, only a couple years younger than (Y/n)) smiled sheepishly, cheeks reddening, but not from the nip of winter. "Since no one was back yet, I thought I might as well shovel. There's a lot of snow and I wanted you both to come back safely."

Safely? Oh, gods Senjuro, thought (Y/n). "Your father should be helping you." Bitterness fell into her voice at the thought of Shinjuro. "You shouldn't have to do this alone. Thank you for the help, though." The shovel hit a large patch of frosty ice with a crack. (Y/n) gave it a good whack and continued on with throwing the shards into a pile. She hummed a little song, careful to keep her voice quiet.

The tune was soft, gentle like the snowflakes falling from the sky. Clouds lazily drifted over the sun, caressing its morning shine in shades of calming grey. Senjuro took a seat at the front door steps, resting his head above his knees with a knit of his brows.

In his mind, it was hard to believe (Y/n) was about eleven years of age. She acted much older, much more mature than most. But maybe Senjuro was wrong. He didn't really have any friends his age, anyway. "(Y/n)-san, what song is that?"

She continued shoveling, Breaths quiet as the wind. "A friend of mine used to sing it to me when I couldn't sleep. He never told me the name."

"It's very pretty." Senjuro honestly said with a smile. "And you have a nice voice. Like a princess." A small chuckle, wistful and sad, escaped (Y/n)'s lips. She didn't know how she could laugh despite the pain in her heart. It hurt to remember the face of her companion, the smile he gave to only her, and the embraces they shared under the moonlight.

(Y/n) stuck the shovel in the ground. With sharp strides, she stopped in front of Senjuro and wrapped him in a hug. "Thank you, Senjuro." He rested his head against her shoulder, wondering if this was what his mother's hold could have been like. He would never know that sort of love, for he couldn't remember it.

Nowadays, after the nights (Y/n) stayed up with him reading stories and keeping him company, her face was all he could think of at the word 'mother'. When (Y/n) released him, he began to miss her gentle warmth so tentative and understanding. She smiled at him, cracked and broken like thin ice over a river. "Do you want to make dinner with me for when your Ani-ue comes back? We can make his favourite."

Senjuro broke out into a bright smile, but before he could respond, the front doors opened with a loud 'SLAM!'.

Ah, thought (Y/n), here he comes. "Good morning, Rengoku-san." she greeted.

Shinjuro took a long, hard swig of sake. He paused turned to look at the shoveled snow as if (Y/n) hadn't just spoke to him. "Senjuro, you did all that?"

He shook his head, sweat forming on his temple. "N-no, I didn't, Chichi-ue. (Y/n)-san said she wanted to do it and..."

Shinjuro sucked his teeth, puffs of white wafting into the frigid air. He smelled strongly of sake. "At least you're making the freeloader do something besides live in my house."

Distaste fell upon (Y/n)'s expression. If not for her usual resting face so full of ice, it would have been obvious. But Shinjuro would not know, he was always in his room, locked away with bottles of sake to drown in. (Y/n) shook her head to herself with a quiet sigh. With a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "Disrespectful old man, this is your sons' house too..."

"What was that?" growled Shinjuro. "Who do you think you are back-talking me, girl?" For a moment, (Y/n) saw white hair and crimson red eyes. She heard the laugh of her Aunt, felt the phantom sting of a slap to her cheek. Gods, why was she thinking of that woman now? Hadn't Akaza already reminded her? She could not hurt her and never will.

Besides, Shinjuro was not Auntie.

Not Auntie.

Shinjuro was not--

"Look at me when I speak to you!" A sting across (Y/n)'s face sent her skidding into the cold snow. Her back hit a tree and it curled away from the impact, practically shaking in its bark. (Y/n) breathed in a deep breath and slowly dragged herself to her feet.

As soon as she stood straight, a fist collided with her jaw. Her head violently hit tree trunk. Pain mixed with the iron taste of blood, Shinjuro's voice blending with the ghost of the past (a voice much too faint yet familiar). "You think you can say whatever you want just because Kyojurou made you his Tsuguko?!" He threw another punch.

And another.

Another.

Another.

"Passing the Final Selection within a month doesn't make you special! You're just an ungrateful brat with no real skill besides running your mouth! You got lucky Kyojurou saved you that day. In fact, you should be indebted to me for letting you live under my roof!"

(Y/n) took every punch and slap to the face. Fear clawed at her heart, reminded her just how lowly of a person she was. It was clear Shinjuro was drunk off the giant bottle of sake dangling from his free hand, but that didn't mean every word he said wasn't true.

Or on the contrary, idiotic as a three year old's interpretation of rocket science.

It was frankly stupid, much like (Y/n) when she opened her mouth to speak. She coldly glared up at him, blood trailing down her bruised nose as she bared her teeth tight. "You're no better than me by making your eight year old son shovel snow by himself."

The deathly quiet in her voice swirled through the air like a blizzard. Shinjuro paused, a shiver running down his spine. For a moment, he gained a moment of clarity, a moment to process what had been said. Why had he made Senjuro shovel in this frigid cold? He could get sick, or frost bite since he was only but a boy.

Hah. Only but a boy? No, that wasn't right. Why should Shinjuro care? His son could get sick for all he wanted, he was a disappointment after all. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the heartache, whatever it was forced him back into a drunken haze of fury. He seized (Y/n) by the hair in a grip tight enough to draw blood from her scalp, growling like some wild animal in her ear. "Listen here you little bitch, what makes you think you can question my parenting? I'm his father! So shut your mouth before I--"

(Y/n) sucked in a sharp Breath. With confidence only her brother could ever match, she mercilessly kicked Shinjuro.

In the face.

His grip loosened around (Y/n)'s hair as he flew back into the snow with a shout, flailing like a headless chicken as snow seeped into the sleeves of his yukata. He held his face in a daze, jaw throbbing painfully. "You...fucking brat..."

(Y/n) pulled out a handkerchief to stop the blood dripping down her nose. She activated Overhaul and the pain dulled to a faint throb against her head. As Shinjuro lay in a pile of snow and ice on his back, she reminded herself yet again: Shinjuro was not Auntie (and never would be).

She heaved in a long breath to steel her jittery nerves. "Today, I will make udon and tempura for lunch," she flatly announced. "Please come inside soon, it's cold enough to get frost bite today."

(Y/n) bowed silently and stepped inside. She closed the door behind, removed her shoes with trembling fingers. The chill of winter had yet to be chased away in the Rengoku estate. Without Kyojurou's presence, it lacked its usual warmth so cosy and welcoming. Of course, it could never compare to home tucked away in the crevices of that lone mountain (home, where Akaza was beside her), but it was all she had.

All (Y/n) could now cling to with her very life.

A long, tired breath escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she shuffled through the kitchen cabinets. It was in times like this that Akaza used to stand by, a sweet smile with those little fangs protruding past his lips. He would crack a joke, bury (Y/n) into his chest with a reminder of how much she was worth. How much he cared for the being he held so securely in his arms.

But Akaza was gone to the call of his Master, strung tight to the noose around his neck. What hurt most was the fact that he was here, but not truly. Somewhere in this world there was hope he breathed, lived.

For as long as (Y/n) was bound to the Corps, she could never see him. Never hug him. Never speak to him.

Through the ice frozen tight around (Y/n)'s face, she cracked for a moment, a split second. Tears threatened to burn her eyes, dared to blur her vision as she filled a pot with water. Today she decided to make homemade udon, maybe then she could drown her sorrows in something other than training.

A light pair of timid footsteps caught (Y/n)'s ear. "Senjuro," --she knew before she saw him shyly pause in the door frame-- "would you like some tea?" And just like that, the cracking came to a firm stop, freezing swiftly with a new layer of ice to mask the raw pain behind. Senjuro made his way to the kitchen counter, all delicate frowns and no sweet smiles. "Are you okay? Chichi-ue hit you really hard."

Ever the mediator, Senjuro made no comment on how terrible his father had been (to make him shovel snow by himself). He merely expressed concern, doted over the traces of blood (Y/n) had yet to clean from her face. "Here. It's unlike you to have dirt or blood on you," he said, wetting a soft towel. "I'll make the tea since you must be tired. It's better if you sit down too since you lost a lot of blood."

(Y/n) would have protested if she didn't know Senjuro well enough. During the days when the estate grew cold and silence long, he had to stay busy with his hands.

"Thank you, Senjuro." She tried for a smile but it felt so crooked and awkward that she dropped it as quick as it came. "I'm going to make udon after tea and tempura. Kyojurou-san should be back by the time everything's ready."

The pot sloshed with water as Senjuro set it over the fire. "We can go buy udon instead at the store. You know Fuyuki-san makes the best in town. You've just come back from a long mission too, please rest." (Y/n) nodded numbly as she picked up two tea cups from the cabinet.

The cool porcelain fought against the quickened thrum of her blood. Rest, she thought. Wasn't that what Kyojurou said before he left for the meeting? How could (Y/n) rest when all she saw were nightmares of possibilities she'd rather not see?

Kibutsuji's face flashed in her mind, an everlasting broken record, and her stomach twisted. Disgusting. Disgusting. How many others were like (Y/n)? Ruined by that monster disguised as a clean-cut wealthy city boy? His crimson eyes redder than fresh blood, his silky voice like oil--(Y/n) burned his image into her mind, engraved it with her very soul.

She would never forget the night Kibutsuji Muzan stole Akaza away in a trail of blood. Her grip tightened around the cup as fury filled her veins. It would take a millennia for her to forget such cold, dark evil. The teacup gave a small creak and shattered into (Y/n)'s palms. She stiffened, gaze falling on the large shards against her icy skin.

"S-sorry," she stammered, "sorry Senjuro. Gods, I didn't mean to break it, I just--"

"It's okay, don't mind it much." His voice, so gosh dang sweet and kind, filled the cold room with warmth. Comfort. Oh, if not for the wobbly smile on his lips, he could have been an exact copy of his brother. "Are you hurt?"

(Y/n) shook her head as Senjuro grabbed a broom (if he hadn't noticed, she would have Overhauled it back). Together, the two picked up the pieces of the glass and tossed them into a bin. Once it was over (thank gods), (Y/n) heaved out a sharp sigh. She tentatively opened the cabinet and grabbed another teacup, fingers trembling like leaves to the wind. How could she be such a klutz and break one of the teacups? It wasn't like her to go around smashing things with her bare hands.

Much less out of the bubbling hatred in her gut.

The water boiled on the stove with a sizzle and Senjuro poured it into a pot. He set it down on a tray, smiling ever so softly. There was always a hint of sorrow there, as if the world were destined to collapse. "Rest, please. I'm sure Ani-ue will be glad if you get some sleep. I'll make lunch and dinner, so don't worry about anything."

A long sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips. She shook her head, gaze falling on the steam escaping the teapot's spout. "I can't make you do that Senjuro. You were shoveling snow at the crack of dawn--"

"And you were slaying demons since dusk." he countered with a frown. "Please, (Y/n)-san, you don't have to worry about me. Especially with all you've done to help others, give yourself a break."

(Y/n) wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. All she had done to help others? Like what, do her job as a Slayer? There was nothing special about swinging a blade all night when she had fled after Akaza begged her to run. She abandoned him.

How unforgivable.

"Senjuro," --there was an edge in (Y/n)'s golden eyes-- "I can't rest. Not yet." She thought of the cherished memories she shared. If Akaza was dead--forever gone from this world--she would avenge him until her last breath. Until Kibutusji Muzan's head rolled on the ground at her feet.

Because in this cruel world only the strongest stood evermore.

Senjuro poured two cups of tea, steam wafting into the air. He quietly stared at his cup, running a finger over it with a tight-laced purse of his lips. "Why do you constantly say stuff like that?" he quietly inquired. "I know it's not really my business, but it makes me sad."

Sad? (Y/n) stiffened, liquid golden eyes widening by a minuscule fraction. She studied the way Senjuro's shoulder slumped in defeat, observed the way his brows knitted.

How could he be sad over someone like (Y/n)? Her life was pathetic. Having a demon as her only companion, abandoning him in the face of death, and ending up in the home of a former Hashira who hated her more than the cruelties of life itself.

How could anyone pity her?

Senjuro's sorrowful eyes made (Y/n)'s heart threaten to stop. She stared into his hues like dawn so bright yet dark, the shine of tears like flames. They flickered for a moment--only to reappear as he sniffled. "I'm sorry you got punched in the face again. Every time Chichi-ue sees you, he gets really mad for some reason and takes it out on you." The tears ran down his cheeks, rivers that left salty droplets on the table. "Chichi-ue said awful things when you went inside, and I couldn't say anything because I was scared he would get mad at me too. I'm sorry, (Y/n)."

There was that phrase--'I'm sorry'--the one Akaza uttered that night he returned after the argument. The one Akaza had said before he disappeared for good, subject to a cruel punishment worse than death. Now here (Y/n) sat, jaw slightly agape as Senjuro, of all people, apologised.

(Y/n)'s brows knitted sharply. "What do you have to be sorry about? There's nothing you should apologise for." He shook his head with a sniffle, rubbing at the tears that refused to stop. "That's not true. I-I can't do anything. I was never strong enough to be Ani-ue's Tsuguko, or speak up to Chichi-ue, and--and whenever you get hit, I can't say anything because I'm always so scared, so I turn a blind eye and..." The soft cries turned into choked sobs.

Two months. It had been two months since (Y/n) stepped foot into this home as Kyojurou's Tsuguko. In her time wallowing over Akaza's possible death with a brewing anger, she hadn't truly seen the Rengoku family for what it was. She knew what foods were Kyojurou's favourite, what days Senjuro couldn't take Shinjuro's harsh words, when to speak and when to not, but she hadn't actually seen.

Senjuro, who had suffered not only from his father's abuse, but a biting guilt that ate away at his fragile self-esteem.

Senjuro, so reliable and sweet, with a burdenous sorrow in his heart.

Senjuro, kind, young Senjuro, who did not deserve a drop of hatred like a terrible hurricane.

(Y/n) had felt it deep in her bones, sensed the darkness lingering in this home's very core. Why had she failed to acknowledge it? To address what was so blatantly obvious?

In a quick stride, (Y/n) stood and pulled Senjuro into a warm embrace. She imagined the hugs Oyaji always gave, so tight and loving with affection. Without words he had shown love that felt like home. (Y/n) brought Senjuro's small head to the crook of her neck, rocked back and forth with a small hum. "My Oyaji used to hold me like this when I was feeling down," she softly said. "And then he'd sing to me like nothing could ever go wrong."

A sad chuckle heavy with longing filled the room. "You are so sweet, Senjuro. There is nothing to be sorry for. I understand what it feels like to be scared." She saw the fake smile upon Auntie's face, felt harsh fingers gripping her wrist a little too tightly for comfort. "I used to be like that."

Senjuro sniffled, disbelief flashing in his watery eyes. "R-really?"

"Long ago, when I was your age." (Y/n) brushed a loose lock of hair out of his eyes, wiped the tears glittered across his cheeks. "Then I met someone very dear to me. He taught me what it meant to value yourself with respect. To be honest, I haven't fully been able to follow his advice." She chuckled quietly and it was gentle like snow. "Don't beat yourself up over anything, I know how hard it can be."

Senjuro wondered how (Y/n) could be so strong when her golden eyes were made of ice. A single touch could fracture the frigid walls she built upon herself. Yet she found strength. Courage in chaos. (Y/n) was a ray of beautiful sunshine at dusk, a golden drop that rose even after midnight chimed like a gong.

A frown pulled deeper at the edge's of Senjuro's lips. Wasn't it the strongest that burned the quickest? The brightest that died the fastest?

Oh, how he prayed for this light, this sun, to never burn out.

Kyojurou arrived in time for lunch with a joyous smile plastered on his boisterous face. He was very happy to hear about his favourite foods gracing the table (he loved any food). Then he sat down at the table and felt it.

The air had grown heavy like a wet blanket. It drooped over his shoulders where quiet worries rippled off the shoulders of the two young ones sat across from him. A part of Kyojurou knew he should try to change the topic, but with the way Senjuro's eyes were red and puffy and the way (Y/n)'s face had bruised, he understood the predicament.

Too perfectly.

A mask rose to Kyojurou's lips in a honeyed smile. "(Y/n), after lunch, go to sleep. I'm sure you and Senjuro were working hard to make all this delicious food." He smiled, softly, brotherly, as a reminder that everything would be okay. "It's not a bad thing to rest. I'm sure you need it to recover."

By 'recover', (Y/n) knew he meant the bruises that littered her face like polka dots. If this were any other day, she could have just Overhaul-ed herself back together. But the Rengokus did not know and didn't need to know about Quirks and the future and everything she had been before being blasted into the past. It was too complicated, anyway.

"I'm fine," she replied with a particularly violent chew. "Don't concern yourself over me."

By the way Kyojurou malevolently smiled, he must have noticed the (prominent) dark circles under her eyes. "As your master, it's my duty to make sure my Tsuguko stays healthy and happy. You will be sleeping and you will be resting until the night. That's final."

Ah, so this was what the great Flame Hashira had to resort to: empty big-brother-esque threats and the hierarchy card. If Kai were here, he would have booted (Y/n) to her room without so much as a word. Then he'd glare down at her and complain about how 'stupid' and 'childish' she was being.

A long sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips. On the bright side, Kyojurou wasn't anything like her Nii-chan. A small 'fine' left her lips and the malevolence faded from Kyojurou's smile. "I'm just worried about you, (Y/n). You have a bad habit of overworking yourself."

To her right, Senjuro frantically nodded in agreement. "You do." he agreed. "It's very bad."

(Y/n) didn't look up to meet any of their gazes. It was shameful. What kind of idiot would be scolded by her teacher and his younger brother? They shouldn't have to concern themselves with her so often, especially when their father got angry over it.

The next night was particularly difficult. (Y/n) hadn't slept well, especially after all the scolding looks Kyojurou glared at the back of her head when she protested. She tried imagining the nights spent with Akaza, the early mornings where he'd lull her to sleep with his sultry voice, and the warmth his hand provided.

(Y/n) may or may not have cried herself to sleep.

And then it happened in a blur of idiocy. (Y/n) wasn't particularly stupid. She knew a thing or two about stealth, a grand amount of keeping her cool, and how to manipulate people if she so wished. Those were easy feats--(Y/n) grew up in the Yakuza, after all.

But if she were so sharp, so dang quick-witted in a match, how could she have allowed this to happen?

A demon's claw viciously sliced through (Y/n)'s chest. The top of her uniform flew open in a bundle of popped buttons and shredded fabric, blood splattering against the grass in red blossoms. (Y/n) hadn't paid attention. Why hadn't she paid attention? This demon was lower ranked than anything else she'd faced, the kill should have been easy. Simple.

Flame Breathing: Third form, Blazing Universe.

(Y/n) raised her blade, and in a bright display of oranges and reds, slashed downwards in an arc. The demon's head flew into the midnight sky, where it landed with a disturbing slosh. (Y/n) slammed against a tree with long breaths. She focused on the flow of oxygen, willing it to help her concentrate to cease the excessive pool of blood. (Y/n) lifted a finger to activate her Quirk, but before she could, a familiar voice broke through the air.

"(Y/n)!"

Oh, that voice. She knew that voice. A blur of fiery hair zoomed towards her with another cry. "K-Kyo..." (Y/n) stammered. "I...f-fine..."

"You are bleeding excessively," he swooped her into his arms, "I am over a thousand percent sure you are in fact not fine!" The knit of his brows faded in and out with the crackling glow of his eyes. (Y/n)'s head lolled against the crook of his arm, breaths shallow and thin. "D...don...worry...fine...."

Kyojurou's lips moved afterwards, but no sound came out. What was he saying? (Y/n) couldn't really tell, not with the gaping hole above one of her vital organs (wait, vital organs?). (Y/n) furrowed her brows together with a wet cough. "...Kyo...jurou..." She wanted to tell him to stop worrying and shaking her about (because she was going to be just fine), and to stop making that heart wrenching face as if she'd die (she refused to), but then her muscles went numb.

And the world went dark.

In the land of dreams, anyone could dream up anything. It was a reflection of the soul, a copy of one's deepest desires they wouldn't dare say out loud.

But...if that were true, why did (Y/n) only see blood? Fire licked the buildings on either side of her as she waltzed through large chunks of rubble. Bodies piled high on the streets with blades, debris and glass punctured through waxy coloured skin. (Y/n) swallowed hard, haze rising towards the centre of the square.

A fountain sprouted water in an awkward angle, sending misty waves towards the limp body of a young girl. (Y/n) cautiously stepped around the gruesome display, whispering a small prayer under her breath. A heavy presence filled the air and it was as if gravity had increased by tenfold.

(Y/n) took a step forward, only to find that her feet refused to move. She was frozen stiff in place, rooted to the bloody ground littered with bodies.

A few metres away stood a man with a white hat and a designer suit. He raised his head, where a pair of luminescent eyes the colour of blood shown like phosphorous.

Kibutsuji Muzan.

He didn't say anything because he didn't need to. His mere presence sent shivers down (Y/n)'s spine, filled her gut with nausea. Her fingers twitched against her sides, itching to reach for her katana.

Move. She had to move.

Kibutsuji met her gaze with a cold smile, basking in the terror that flooded her veins. He took a step forward, and as he moved, another person appeared behind him. Pink locks fluffier than clouds, eyes the colour of persimmons, and a devious smirk smoother than velvet.

Akaza.

(Y/n) could not see his face clearly. It blurred in and out in an array of blotched colours. She kept her gaze on Akaza, who followed closely behind Kibutsuji. In a fraction of a second, Akaza had appeared before (Y/n) and...

...and raised his fist.

---

(Y/n) awoke with a start. She felt the colour draining from her face as she gripped the sheets tight with heavy breaths. her mind ran a million miles per hour as silence crushed her to oblivion. That was just a nightmare. Another one of those pesky things that went bump in the night.

It was nothing, she thought. Absolutely nothing.

Tears burned (Y/n)'s vision as she slowly sat up, body cracking and aching sorely. She hung her head low, tears like starlight staining her hospital shirt a shade darker.

Akaza is gone, she reminded. Gone for good. She could not spend all her days thinking about him (whether that be in a nightmare or her waking days) when he would never come back. Her heart could cry, her eyes could wet like rivers, and she could stifle her painful sob. No matter what she did though, it would all be for naught.

Because why spend all your tears on someone who was there but not truly? Alive yet not fully? Here yet not enough to touch?

The door suddenly slid open and (Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat. Judging by the soft footsteps, this was not Kyojurou or Senjuro. She stared at the tears against her fists. She just wanted to go home, to close her eyes, and never wake up again. Was that too much to ask? Maybe if she had deliberately allowed a demon to simply kill her then--

"Good morning, (Y/n)." The voice was the very essence of a calm spring day. "I'm glad to see you awake, how are you feeling?" The man's eyes, purple like wisteria, glimmered with a fatherly warmth. There was something wrong with one of his eyes--an illness perhaps--that had turned the iris lighter. "I'm sure you've been through so much, so please, take your time to answer." The man pulled up a chair beside the bed, lips pressed into a kind smile.

(Y/n) hadn't realised she had looked up until the man's expression softened. If he noticed the tears, he didn't mention it. "You had been stabbed from behind. If not for Kyojurou, you would have lost too much blood and died. I was relieved to hear about your recovery, Kyojurou is very fond of you."

The comment didn't quite process well. How could (Y/n) be someone Kyojurou was fond of if she was nothing more than a coward with terrible mistakes? She sucked in a sharp breath. "Who are you?" she quietly inquired. "I don't...believe we have met." The man continued to smile serenely, unbothered by her ignorance. "I am Ubuyashiki Kagaya. Many call me Oyakata-sama, but you don't have to go along with that if you don't want to."

(Y/n) repeated the word over and over until it clicked in her groggy mind filled with cotton. Oyakata-sama--the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps. How had she not realized it? Kyojurou had told her about him once or twice, maybe she should have listened more carefully.

The smile on Oyakata-sama's face seemed everlasting. "I heard about you first when you passed the Final Selection after only a month of training. Kyojurou told me that you're a fast learner with great skill." There was something knowing in his eyes, as if he understood more than he would let on. "You have the strength of a Hashira. I have a feeling that is not a coincidence."

(Y/n) stiffened impossibly more. There was not the slimmest chance that he knew about her relationship with Akaza. Oyakata-sama had many eyes, many slayers and crows that traveled all of Japan, but he couldn't possibly know, could he?

No, he couldn't. It was impossible. (Y/n) swallowed thickly. "What do you mean?" She thought of the lone mountain and that place to call home in the crevices of the forest. She heard the ocean not too far off, a few miles at most, and smelled the scent of salt permeating the air. He couldn't know. He couldn't.

Oyakata-sama continued to smile, serene as the winter landscape outside. "You are an extraordinary child," he said. "Keep growing and someday, I know you will become a Hashira." With a stand, Oyakata-sama said a small goodbye and made his way to the door. He suddenly paused, as if remembering something. "(Y/n)," --he turned to face her with another fatherly smile-- "please don't be too hard on yourself."

The door closed and (Y/n) sat in a long, uncomfortable silence. What was that? It was as if Oyakata-sama knew everything yet nothing. He spoke with such a soothing voice that it almost made (Y/n) want to speak the truth. Almost.

She turned to lay her head on the pillow, only for the door to slam open. It rattled in the frame, shivered at the touch of a man with chalk-white hair.

A grin rose to the man's scarred face (he sported many) as another with bandages over his mouth strutted in closely after. The door closed, this time much more carefully. The scarred man stopped at the foot of (Y/n)'s hospital bed with his arms folded over his chest. "So you're the Tsuguko Rengoku-san's been so adamant on speaking of? Hmph, pretty pathetic of you to get done in like that by some common demon."

(Y/n) stared hard at the scratchy bed sheets, fists clenched tight.

The man with the bandages scoffed. "That's not just pathetic, it's sad. How stupid are you to nearly end up on your deathbed?"

Something in (Y/n)'s gut bubbled like lava. It made fire burst within her heart, stomach churn and knot tightly within her chest. She lifted her gaze ever so steadily, golden eyes sharper than her blade. "Who are you?" (Y/n) cut in with a cold grimace. "If you dislike me, then you're welcome to leave."

The men both scoffed in response, as if she had asked them to scale Mt. Everest in their summer yukata. (Y/n)'s fists clenched tighter around the sheets.

The bandaged man met her gaze with a cold stare. "We're here to check out Rengoku-san's 'amazing' Tsuguko." he stated with a grimace. "Since you're a damn idiot, I'll introduce myself. I'm Iguro Obanai, and that's Shinazugawa Sanemi. Show some respect brat, we outrank you by seniority." A white snake curled around his arm and nodded in agreement, as if that would further prove the point.

(Y/n) wearily eyed the snake. Its gleaming beady eyes, the shine to its divine scales--what a companion Iguro had chosen. It was funny really, an irritating snake-like man with a snake as a pet. They were a match made in the Heavens. "As you can see," --(Y/n) spoke through gritted teeth-- "you've already made your point. I'm not much to look at, nothing 'amazing', so I would prefer if you'd leave."

A scoff escaped Iguro's lips for what seemed to be the third time in the past six minutes. He jabbed a finger towards (Y/n), glaring as if she were the dirt under his foot. "Who the hell said we're leaving? You have some backbone if you think you can sass us."

Shinazugawa folded his arms tighter across his scarred chest with a snarl. "It's this generation, I swear. Do you even have any sense of self preservation? If you're as 'great' as I've heard, that demon shouldn't have taken you down like a damn amateur! You must have been too cocky for your own good, why else would you be close to death's fucking doors?"

Cocky? Was that what (Y/n) had been? She glared at the wall behind her visitors' heads with a grimace. If she had just been more aware of the demon sneaking up her flank, more careful of the whirling thoughts in her head, then maybe she wouldn't have ended up like this. Bedridden. Unable to heal herself with her Quirk because her peers couldn't know the truth.

If Akaza were here, what would he say?

"Hey!" Shinazugawa snapped his fingers in front of (Y/n)'s face. "It's shameful to call yourself Rengoku's Tsuguko when you're incompetent as fuck! Don't you care about how much of an embarrassment you are to the Demon Slayer Corps?"

The bubbling vat of angry knots in (Y/n)'s stomach tightened, and she wasn't sure she'd ever loosen it. It was true--she was an embarrassment. And a big, heavy burden who hadn't thought twice about what she could have done in that very moment. She recalled the conversation with Senjuro where his tears refused to stop.

He had been worried no matter what (Y/n) told him. She hadn't realised it then.

Not when her thoughts lay zeroed in on the insults and the slaps across her face, not even when she thought she'd stare death in the face. It hadn't been obvious (when it should have).

(Y/n) was losing her will to live. Again.

The first time had been after that argument between her and Akaza. Now, it came with his very absence.

(Y/n) glared into the distance, a horizon even she couldn't see. "You're right, I am an embarrassment. it's ridiculous that Rengoku-san even accepted me as his Tsuguko. I...I've been nothing but a burden. It's pathetic, I know." She heaved in a heavy breath, squeezing her eyes shut. "You didn't have to tell me all that, I already know."

"If you already know, then why the hell are you still here?" (Y/n) opened her eyes to meet Iguro's brilliant hues. She stared at her clenched fists, where half-moons dug into the palms of her calloused skin. Then she met his expectant gaze so firm and tough with years of battle. "You're not gonna get anywhere if you stay here all day, brat. As Rengoku's Tsuguko, you better live up to that title."

Shinazugawa scoffed, all teeth poking from his lip. "Not just live up to it, show us what you can do instead of sitting in bed all damn week! You're pathetic, don't end up here again or I'll bash your head in. I don't want to have to see an embarrassment in the Corps walking around Kocho's halls!"

The two sent (Y/n) off with their respective glares before zooming out the doorway with rambunctious complaints and insults. Their voices echoed from the open door, where snippets of 'what a brat' and 'can't believe she survived' filtered through the broken silence.

It was as if a fire had overtaken the room. (Y/n)'s head ached with an incoming migraine as she stood, sweat forming on her temple. The frustration brimming in her chest swelled when she picked up a mirror to fix her hair. Dark circles, sunken cheeks, and dead, analytical eyes.

Chisaki (Y/n) was a walking zombie. No wonder those who wanted nothing more than to berate her. Why else when she looked like a dumpster fire thrown into the sea to only burn until--

A presence warm like a crackling fire in the evening of autumn filled the air. (Y/n) ripped her gaze from the mirror with a grimace, firmly placing it face-down on the counter. Before she could fix the look on her face, a pair of arms enveloped her tight. Rays of sun reflected off the joyous glimmer in his eyes as he turned (Y/n) to face him.

"I'm glad you're awake," --Kyojurou smiled tiredly as if he hadn't slept in days-- "your wound has healed well from what Kocho-san told me. I'm more than relieved to see you awake. For a while, I thought you weren't going to make it." (Y/n) searched Kyojurou's face for answers that came all too quickly.

The injury must have been near-deadly or poisonous, which would explain the rapid pace in which (Y/n) lost blood and consciousness. If that were true, then she must have been on her deathbed, or fading in and out for a while (why else did Kyojurou look so tired?).

"I'm awake now." (Y/n) tried her best for a smile but it was plastic. "I apologise for scaring you." Kyojurou's thick brows knitted. He shook his head, rested his hands on her shoulders. "If anyone should apologise, it's me. You have suffered in silence for too long, and as a result, you were nearly killed in battle. As your trainer, I should have been more attentive. I'm sorry, (Y/n). This is my fault."

Panic flooded (Y/n)'s system. Why was this Kyojurou's fault? Why did he feel the need to apologise? Had this not already happened with Senjuro who erupted into a violent fit of tears? Had this not happened to Akaza whose heart weighed so heavily with guilt?

"Don't apologise." (Y/n) quickly stated. "Please, don't say that--"

"Why?" The grim shine in those fiery eyes made (Y/n)'s stomach knot again. He looked too earnest, too guilty. "I should have been there for you when you needed me most." He paused, thinking deeply. "When you first woke up after I took you in, I knew what happened. I didn't say it, but I could tell you were grieving. You lost someone close to you, did you not?"

Kyojurou took (Y/n)'s silence as a 'yes'.

"When I lost my mother, I had that same look as well. She was one of the most important people in my life. Truly, she made me the man I am today, and for that, I can never thank her enough." He smiled and it was as if a cold wave had washed over (Y/n)'s limbs. She shrunk in on herself like a feeble old woman while Kyojurou stood strong as a bull.

"You grieve that person you lost because they meant the world to you." he stated. "Even now you still grieve."

In the eyes of Kyojurou, (Y/n) was lain bare. He had known more than he let on, more than (Y/n) realised because she had been blind just as with Senjuro. "Am I that easy to read?" she incredulously inquired. "Have I been that terrible at hiding it?"

Kyojurou shook his head, giving (Y/n)'s shoulders a firm squeeze. "No, but when you thought I wasn't looking I noticed how sad you were. Senjuro also told me about how worried he was. He said you looked like you were waiting for someone."

It was a bit cruel, wasn't it? To have two people know yet pretend as if everything were okay. The world was a stage, a mere set where people played roles to survive. Competition had always been grand for each part, so why not cruise along as if it were fine? As if nothing could ever go wrong in this disgusting world?

Tears burned in (Y/n)'s vision but she refused to let herself cry. Refused to crack like the ice around her heart. The words 'I'm sorry' stuck at the tip of her tongue, glued to her lips at the echo of words she could never seem to truly forget. It had been cold that night, with only the warmth of the hearth to crackle away.

"You have to stop apologising," Akaza said. "There was nothing for you to prove, Wonder Girl."

It felt like decades when it had only been a quarter of a year ago. The flickering light of the lanterns, the scent of fresh dirt and ice permeating the air. (Y/n) covered her face in her hands, heaving in a seething breath to calm the thumping beast in her chest.

"(Y/n)..."

She heaved in another breath and lifted her head, a bitter laugh threatening to escape her lips. "I...encountered K-Kibutsuji Muzan...three days before you found me. He...took someone away from me." (Y/n) recalled the shouting, the hurried pleas, the last of Akaza's hand in hers. "That person made me promise to run. I-I didn't want to, but h-he didn't give me a choice."

Tears blurred (Y/n)'s vision, sheets of ice that left her blinded by the cracking ice in her heart. She couldn't cry, she couldn't. Not in front of Kyojurou, who was everything she was not. Everything she had wished to become (a hero, a proud person worthwhile). "H-he was the only one who c-cared about me. A-and..."

What words were there to describe the wonderful being named Akaza?

"...now he's gone." Yes, that was all she could say out loud before the tears became too much. (Y/n) bowed her head low, violent sobs wracking her body with hiccups. She didn't want to see the way Kyojurou looked at her. She didn't want to feel, not when cold, icy grief was all that overtook her soul.

Kyojurou hugged (Y/n) close, a pair of arms that vaguely reminded her of Kai when he shielded her from all that was terrible in this world.

Akaza. Oh, what was she to do without him? What was she to be? To become? (Y/n) could not confide in Kyojurou the same way she did with him. Not when Akaza had been the first to find her, the first to show kindness, the first to make her feel like she was something instead of nothing.

"(Y/n)," --Kyojurou spoke gently, yet firmly-- "no matter how much it hurts to lose someone, you have to keep moving forward. Time will not wait for you to mourn, so grit your teeth and raise your head. No matter how much it pains you."

(Y/n) had forfeited all she once knew after being sent to the past, and she would have to do it again in order to live.

To breathe.

To fight.

Three years later
Mt. Natagumo

The forest rustled against (Y/n)'s gentle touch as she raced through the night. Silvery light bathed the sides of her face, cool light she savoured. The blade between her fingers gleamed dangerously as she slashed, a mere blur to the stars above.

Breath of Ice: Second Form, Melting River.

A rushing river of ice and water spewed from the tip of (Y/n)'s sword. She slashed in long brilliant arcs, cutting through the thin red webs with shards of ice. In a graceful dip, she landed silently and pushed off the ground. A demon, no older than a boy, prepared another attack. (Y/n) engaged just as quick.

Breath of Ice: Fifth Form, Shattering Ice Wall.

Shards of ice encased (Y/n)'s blade as she heaved in a long breath. She swung in a single swoop and the demon's severed head hit the ground with a 'thump'. Shock rang through the air in his silence. He must have only just realised what happened as (Y/n) swiftly sheathed her blade.

Akaza had once told (Y/n) of the Lower Moons. He regarded them with disdain, claiming they were only a bunch of placeholders to kill demon slayers as a side job. No matter how crudely he looked down upon them, (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a little bad. It was a natural response to choose a life in shadows when misfortune struck like lightning.

A boy laying on the ground reached out a hand to the Lower Moon. He intertwined their hands, sorrow leaking into his burgundy eyes. (Y/n) didn't know it then, but this boy, was special. Unique. Since this first encounter, Kamado Tanjiro revered (Y/n)'s abilities with awe. He wondered what she had done to become so skilled, so infinitely radiant.

Only to realise that it wasn't the true case he had believed.

Months later
Mugen Train

The familiar scent of roasted green tea and freshly cooked rice filled (Y/n)'s nose. A knock at her door startled her awake. She shot up like a bullet eyes wide in alarm. The nostalgic (colour) walls tacked with posters and autographs brought her back to childhood, days where she studied for the U.A. entrance exams.

This was not Mugen train, much less, the Rengoku estate she had come to call home.

"Wake up already," Kai called from the door. "Did you miss your alarm, or what?"

Alarm.

Alarm?

(Y/n) threw the sheets aside, eyes wide. Ah, that was right! School, she was going to be late for school! Whatever thoughts once swirling in her mind disappeared like the wind howling against the window. Snow fell to the grey pavement, blanketing the land in powdery white. Oh, it was winter again wasn't it? (Y/n) had to dress warm today so she wouldn't get cold.

(Y/n) quickly pulled on her uniform, an extra sweater, and her socks before practically jumping out of her room to race to the bathroom. Once she was done, she sprinted down the stairs, a groggy yawn escaping her lips. "I must have missed my alarm," she said, pouring a glass of (drink).

A chuckle reverberated deep in Oyaji's chest as he turned off the stove. "You were up late reading manga again, weren't you?" Kai shook his head in disappointment, as if that were the least of what (Y/n) should be doing. "If I didn't wake you up, then you would have missed breakfast. Did you forget to turn on your alarm or what?"

Speaking of alarms, since when did (Y/n) have one for the past few years? She usually woke up an hour and a half before noon to make brunch with Senjuro--

"(Y/n), eat your food." Kai said with a prodding glare. "Hari already finished his meal." A smile was all Hari offered before he frowned. Wait, wait, since when was Hari sitting next to (Y/n)? And since when did he get here? An odd tug in (Y/n)'s gut made her purse her lips tightly. Something about today felt wrong, like a missing chorus to a One Direction song, or a wrong shade in a painting.

(Y/n) stood. Hm, what was that thought she just had? It seemed to have slipped her mind quickly. The biting gazes across the table were getting really hard to ignore as she stirred the pot of miso soup. Had she said something wrong? Or was she just being paranoid? Maybe she really had stayed up late reading too much manga.

No, wait. Last night, (Y/n) had been with Shinobu-san to visit the Kamaboko Squad. They all ate together and talked before being sent on a mission--

"(Y/n), are you okay?" It was Hari who spoke this time, those lavender thick brows of his knitted tightly. He stood and carefully took the bowl from (Y/n)'s hands. "It's not like you to wake up late, unless something happened. Did it?" The questioning glances everyone sent her made her wonder.

(Y/n) took the bowl and sat down, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "I'm fine. Nii-chan, didn't you say you were taking me somewhere after school?" He swallowed with a nod. "You said you wanted to get more manga. Your birthday's coming up soon anyway, so I'll use my allowance."

Ooo, 'allowance'. That was a word (Y/n) hadn't heard in a long time. She smiled brightly and took a bite from her rice bowl. "Hari, you're coming too, right? We'll all go together and then walk around at the park." He raised a brow and slid back into his seat. "In the snow? What if we get hit by a car on the way there?"

Cars.

Car accidents.

(Y/n) fumbled with that thought. For a moment, she felt a sharp pain, as if her body remembered something her mind could not. Then Kai gave her a look to finish eating and it vanished. What was that again? She couldn't remember, so it probably wasn't that important anyway. "We won't get hit by cars," (Y/n) said with a roll of her eyes. "You just don't want to walk in the snow."

"If you're all walking in the snow, make sure you bring extra layers." Oyaji piped in, taking a sip of his tea. "I don't want any of you getting sick." A long winded collection of 'okay's and 'we knows' rang out through the air. Oyaji chuckled, that warm smile tacked to his lips. Before (Y/n) walked out the door, she made sure to tackle him in a big hug.

"Oh, what's this? You haven't hugged me in a while," Oyaji said, kissing the top of (Y/n)'s head. She shrugged, savouring the last of this fleeting moment. "I just feel like I haven't seen you in a long time." Tears suddenly threatened to mist her eyes, but before she could wonder, Kai had called her name.

School came quickly, along with classes (Y/n) hated the most. When the bell finally rang, she sprinted out the doors and waited for Hari and Kai to make their way down the street. They went to juniour high, where all the 'cool kids' were (or so Hari said).

When the two boys appeared, they all walked to the bookstore in the snow. The familiar sound of cars rolling by made a frown pull at the edges of (Y/n)'s lips. She watched them pass in confusion. "There are a lot of cars here, everyone must be pretty rich to own them. I'm surprised no one's walking." Kai paused in his step with a raised brow. "What are you talking about? All I see are Toyota Camrys."

"Yeah," agreed Hari. "I haven't seen a Porsche or Lamborghini pass by in months."

Whatever a 'Toyota Camry' and a 'Porsche' and 'Lamborghini' looked like, (Y/n) didn't really care to know. She frowned deeper and huffed. The bangs fluttering over her face were getting annoying. Were they always in her face? She reached up to clip it back, only to grab at empty air. Hair clip? (Y/n) didn't carry around a hair clip, much less a hair tie. Where did that thought even come from?

Gods, something wasn't right.

Something...

Something...

What was that something?

Kai looped (Y/n)'s arm in his with a sigh. "Come on, you're getting distracted again. Let's go." She looked up to meet the side of his face rosy red with the cold. He sniffled, nose twitching. Those liquid golden eyes that matched her own flickered to meet her gaze. "What?"

(Y/n)'s eyes watered and she didn't even know why. She pulled Hari and Kai as close as physically possible, burying her face into their coats. A quiet sob escaped her lips, barely audible against the whirl of the passing cars. It didn't matter if she looked crazy, stupid, or both. All that she wanted, all that she needed, was to know that they were here. Breathing. Living. Beside her.

"W-what's wrong?" Hari stammered. "Did something happen this morning?" (Y/n) shook her head and hugged the boys with all her might. Their warmth--their very existence--why did it feel so nostalgic? So comforting? Kai tentatively placed a hand to (Y/n)'s hair and gave it a ruffle. He sighed lowly as he always did, pulling her close to his chest. "Geez, what is with you today?"

It didn't matter because it felt good to know Kai and Hari were real and breathing. It was good to know that (Y/n) could touch them, hold them, laugh with them like tomorrow would still come again. Words did not leave her lips as she hugged them tighter with a strangled sob.

It was like...like she hadn't seen them both in years.

For a long moment, Kai didn't say anything. He was too stunned to speak, much less process what (Y/n) was so dumbly on about. He chose to bathe her in warmth, in love, and affection. "You're really stupid," Kai quietly said with a shake of his head, "we're not going anywhere. No need to act like we're gonna disappear, geez."

Hari gave (Y/n)'s hand a tight squeeze. "Yeah, you don't have to worry. We'll buy lots of manga today and read it together, then you'll feel better for sure." He smiled and it was everything soft and caring. Everything (Y/n) hadn't seen in forever.

Kai handed her a handkerchief. With his bare hand, he gave her forehead a poke with his chilly fingers. "U.A. should be your only priority, there's nothing you should be worrying about when you're literally ten." The boys released (Y/n), their gazes a mix of stern worry and soft concern.

Ten. Was (Y/n) really 'ten'? Somehow, she felt older. Colder, even.

The violent honk of a car horn startled (Y/n) from her thoughts. She turned to look at the windows and the reflection of a girl flashed against the glass. Another irritating honk caught her ears. She flinched violently and half expected the car to come barreling into her.

Kai caught (Y/n)'s hand in his, eyes wide. "What is it?" His tone was firm, grim. "What happened?" Maybe he expected this had to do with Auntie, or maybe some other theory. Whatever it was, (Y/n) knew she wouldn't be left off the hook. This was Kai after all. He never let someone out of his sight until he got what he wanted (especially if it concerned her).

"It's nothing." (Y/n) tried for a smile but it didn't feel the same as this morning. "Don't worry about me." Didn't she always say that? Like the time Akaza pestered her about how terrible it was to lie about herself? Wait, who was that again?

Kai rolling his eyes brought (Y/n)'s attention back to the present. He grumbled something inaudible under his breath and a 'let's go' before walking along with her icy hand in his.

Hari pursed his lips together, steps nearly in sync with Kai and (Y/n). "If something's wrong, don't be afraid to tell us. We just want to help you." That wasn't news. (Y/n) knew that, but deep down in her bones, she had a feeling this wasn't something anyone could do anything about. Besides, what could anyone do about Kibutsuji Muzan? The--the what? (Y/n) couldn't recall.

A glimmer of light caught (Y/n)'s eye. She glared at it closely, squinting against the harsh light filtering into her liquid golden hues. A knife? No, too long. It had to be a katana! (Y/n) ripped her hand from Kai's and raced forward, chest blooming with a nostalgic warmth. She swooped the katana into her hands, admiring its weight that fit so right within her palms. In a single movement, she unsheathed the blade tinted in mixtures of purples and icy blues.

Pain bombarded (Y/n)'s head as she took a step forward, knees buckling. Names, faces, places she so dearly loved flooded her mind like a movie. Akaza. Kyojurou. Senjuro. Yes, that was what she couldn't grasp! This was all dream, some sort of Blood Demon Art fabricated by the Lower Moon she faced at this very moment.

(Y/n) took a wobbly step forward, a long breath filling the chilly air in puffs of white. But now that she knew where she was, how was she to get out? There were various ways to wake up from a dream, all of which required some sort of shock. (Y/n) recalled the nightmares she clawed at through the night, filled with phantom beings and bloody faces that left her in a cold sweat.

What was the easiest way to wake the body?

Death.

(Y/n)'s gaze zeroed on the fast-moving cars. They zoomed by in packs, mere blurs compared to the olden style rickshaws pulled by people on foot. A hand caught (Y/n)'s shoulder in an iron grip. A pair of liquid golden eyes met her own, ones that could have been identical. Copies.

"Where did you find that?" Kai inquired (in a deathly calm tone). "You just ran off without a single word." The frown upon Hari's lips only added salt to the wounds. "Yeah, you've been acting really weird all day. What happened?"

(Y/n)'s gaze fixated back on the honking cars speeding through slushy snow. She lifted the blade, where engraved upon its surface were the words 'destroyer of demons'. That was her life now, bound by death and blood. There was no turning back to the days in which she studied for U.A.'s entrance exam. No nights where she laughed over a dumb movie blaring upon a screen.

Tears burned against the edges of (Y/n)'s vision. The blade fell from her fingers as she heaved out a broken sob. "I-I have to do this." She stared deep into Kai's and Hari's eyes, engraved their faces into her memory. "Please, f-forgive me."

Hari took a hold of (Y/n)'s shoulder. "What do you mean? What do you have to do?" he demanded. "Tell us what's wrong!" As he begged and begged in a passionate fit, Kai stood stiff as a board. (Y/n) could only shake her head as cold tears ran down her rosy cheeks. "I-I'm sorry...."

And as Kai threw out a hand to catch (Y/n)'s own, she ripped her shoulder from Hari's grip and stepped out into the street. The honk of a car filled her ears, where distant memories of her very first encounter with death rushed into her mind. She turned to stare at her dear brother and best friend one last time.

What could have happened if things were different?

The car ran her through.

---

Tears blurred (Y/n)'s vision as she shot up and stumbled to her feet. The remnants of ash and fire stifled her nose, scents that mingled with the ever growing fear knit tight into the air. (Y/n)'s fingertips, taught and locked in place, squeezed the wrists of a young girl. She cried out in pain as a sharp awl rolled by her feet.

A sharp exhale escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she released the girl. In one fell swoop, she chopped the girl's neck and unsheathed her blade in a brilliant array of icy blues and purples.

"(Y/n)!" exclaimed Tanjiro. "I believe the demon has fused with the train. I've noticed how the scent has changed since I woke up, it's only a matter of time before the demon starts eating the train passengers!."

The situation was clear and the objective sky blue. Adrenaline pumped through (Y/n)'s veins as she steadied her shaky breath. The faces of her family, the last she heard of their pleas...

No. (Y/n) had learned to accept what was hard fact. There was no turning back, her family had long ran out of her reach. She heaved in another breath and steeled her expression with ice. "I'll take these six train cars with Zenitsu. Tanjiro, can I leave the demon to you and Inosuke?" A shout of 'yes!' confirmed the plan. Without so much as a blink, (Y/n) got to work at severing the demon's limbs.

It all happened in a blur, from the Lower Moon's death to the train being derailed. In the wee hours of the morning, stars glittered above. (Y/n) heaved out a long breath and sheathed her blade, wishing that the night could finally come to a close. She had used her Breathing Techniques in sync with Kyojurou to parry the impact of the landing, and it took more out of her than she had realised.

After finding Tanjiro (who was harmed gravely in the stomach), it was evident that he shouldn't be moving. Then there was Kyojurou with his arm held tight in a makeshift sling. (Y/n)'s brows furrowed. "Did you fall wrong?"

"Unfortunately." Kyojurou admitted with a bright laugh. "But don't worry, it's nothing serious. Currently, the yellow haired boy is aiding in the rescue. I'm not sure about the boar kid, but judging by the situation, I'm sure everyone is fine."

(Y/n) breathed out a sigh of relief. "That's good. All that really is a problem is that." She motioned to the large gash on Tanjiro's stomach. "At least you were able to stop the bleeding, Tanjiro--"

(Y/n) froze, heart ramming against her rib cage. This presence, this biting chill filled with such gratifying power, she knew it. Like the back of her hand. The forest rippled to a long forgotten song, one only sung in that mountain (Y/n) resided in long ago.

"Run." Akaza had said. "Run and don't look back."

What a tragedy it was to reunite on the battlefield. Her blade glimmered in the moonlight as her gaze connected with the persimmon eyes she had grown to love and cherish. In an instant, Akaza raced forward, fist readying to puncture a hole through Tanjiro's forehead.

Breath of Ice: Fourth Form, Winter's First Snow.

In a gentle collection of snowflakes, (Y/n)'s blade sliced through Akaza's tough flesh. He jumped back in a flamboyant set of flips, landing silently in the dirt below his feet. "Wow," he grinned smugly, teasingly, "that's a fine sword you got there."

(Y/n) gave her blade a good whirl for kicks. Why not show it off? It was time to be proud of something in her pathetic life, anyway. "It is a beauty," she agreed. "I'm sure it will be the last thing you see before I lop your head off, Upper Moon Three." The empty threat made Akaza's smirk grow into a grin. He gave the blood trailing down his arm a good lick as the flesh regenerated.

There was something about that action that filled (Y/n)'s veins with excitement. She couldn't have been happier, more content, than this very moment. For four years, she was left to wonder if Akaza had been left for dead because of her. And that guilt ate away at her core, reminded her of all the faults she had always possessed since birth.

Akaza, as if sensing the sorrow buried deep within, broke out into a cocky laugh. "Look at you, giving me empty threats," he appeared behind her, breath fanning across her neck, "as if you could ever kill me. The name's Akaza. Nice to meet you, young lady." The challenge, the taunting tone to his sultry voice, set (Y/n)'s heart ablaze. "Chisaki (Y/n), the Flame Hashira, Rengoku Kyojurou's Tsuguko." She parried his fists with her blade, engaging in a dance so familiar and true.

They were only flashes to the untrained eye, two blurs the very essence of winter. (Y/n) found herself enjoying the challenge, the adrenaline rush filling her veins. When was the last time she felt so light? So alive? She threw a harsh kick to Akaza's head and he blocked as she readied with a slash of her blade.

His laugh echoed against the calming sway of the trees, a familiar ring that made (Y/n) want to smile and cry with relief. "Oh? A swordsman who can fight without her blade? I wonder where she learned that from!" The knowing look in his eyes made (Y/n) choke back a smirk. "We Slayers aren't one-trick ponies."

"And your Ice Breathing," Akaza added with a grin, "I've never heard of that." (Y/n) answered back in a combo of slashes. She dodged his movements with ease, finding herself snorting in response. "Apparently, I'm one of the first in centuries. I wonder why."

The backhanded comment made Akaza's lips curve into a smirk. He swiped a leg under (Y/n). Her eyes widened and she let out a gasp as Tanjiro and Kyojurou screamed her name in fear. Before (Y/n)'s head could slam into a rock, Akaza's warm hand caught her own in a dip. Her heart caught in her throat, blood thrumming in her ears.

"Be careful, (Y/n)," --his dark voice was smoother than velvet-- "wouldn't want you to die for a stupid reason, now would we?"

Heat rushed to (Y/n)'s face. Gods, how embarrassing. To be caught by Akaza moments before she got hurt over something dumb? The blush coating her cheeks illuminated against the silvery moon. She kicked out a leg and hauled herself to her feet.

Breath of Ice: Seventh Form, Pillars of Ice!

The tip of (Y/n)'s blade sprouted in a collection of icy pillars. She wielded her blade in a powerful arc, slicing Akaza's arm off clean. His smirk widened, if that were even possible, and he couldn't have looked more proud. "That was a beautiful cut with wonderful reaction time. Subarashii!"

The battle clearly did not go anywhere. With how much fooling around Akaza did, and the amount of snarky remarks exchanged, neither was bound to win. It was like those long nights spent in the moonlight, training, practicing, and talking about everything and anything.

"I can tell just by looking that you're on the level of a Hashira," --Akaza parried (Y/n)'s blade-- "you truly are a wonder, (Y/n). Truly." The fondness leaking into his voice did not go unheard by the night's gentle breeze. If the two had just met on another night, another place, or another timeline, then maybe, they could have been happy together.

(Y/n) dodged a kick and ducked out of the way of a swift uppercut. Her reaction time couldn't have been more in sync with Akaza's. It was as if the two were one, connected by the bond running deep in their veins. Over the horizon, reds and oranges peeked past the skyline. (Y/n) sent Akaza a firm frown. "The sun is rising," she forced the disappointment down her throat, "it's time I finish this."

Akaza's teasing smirk fell. He gave the horizon a good glare before pausing in his step. "You're almost fifteen now, right?" (Y/n) nodded, bitterness leaking onto her face. "Nearly fifteen and still counting." A smile so gentle and loving rose to Akaza's lips. "I'm glad. It makes me happy to know you've grown up well. You're not a kid anymore, you're a young lady."

A laugh quietly bubbled in (Y/n)'s throat. She allowed it to sprout past her lips, thankful that she and Akaza were far enough that Kyojurou and Tanjiro wouldn't hear. "I never stopped thinking about you, ever since that night. I thought he killed you."

A chuckle smooth as chocolate came from Akaza's lips. "As if I'd die that easily. You can't get rid of me, not yet." (Y/n) rolled her eyes. "I would never to begin with." She glanced at the sun peeking over the mountaintops. Anxiety brewed in her stomach at the sight and she frowned tightly. "Go, before the sun gets you."

"If I died now, I don't think I'd care." (Y/n) gave him a hard look and discreetly motioned to the forest. "Shut up, would you rather me die with you?" He smiled gently, fangs poking from the edge of his lips all cutely. "Don't cry, (Y/n)." Instinctively, he reached out a hand, only to pause with a regretful frown.

As long as there were eyes watching them, they had to stick to the script. They could neither hold nor converse with each other like those nights they cherished so deeply.

(Y/n) sniffled, wiping at her face harshly. "I'm not crying," she tearfully grumbled. "I don't cry anymore." Akaza continued to smile as he always did with that overflowing river of passionate affection. It took all of (Y/n)'s willpower not to throw her arms around his shoulders and cry her eyes out. "S-see? N-now you m-made me all s-sad...! Gods, why am I-I crying so much?"

"It's not a bad thing to cry," Akaza soothingly consoled. "It just means you've been strong for too long." And whether that was true or not, (Y/n) didn't want to know. The loathing she held deep in her heart, the amount of pain piling high, could never make her see herself as someone worthwhile when she viewed herself as nothing. "It's pathetic," she hiccuped with a shake of her head, "me crying and being weak."

The smile on Akaza's lips vanished. "Haven't I told you before that you aren't weak? When we had to part, you survived, and now look at where you are now." His expression softened like the touch of winter's snow. "Be proud of yourself just like how I'm proud of you. You have nothing to be ashamed of, (Y/n). Nothing."

A long, watery sigh escaped her lips. She wiped her eyes, grip loosening around the hilt of her katana. "Go now, the sun is getting too high." Akaza glanced at the fading light of the moon, then the tell-tale sign of golden rays across the beautifully blue horizon. He tried for another smile, where sorrow and grief flooded his heart. "I wish we could stand under the same sky."

"Me too," (Y/n) cried. "Me too."

Akaza turned on his heel, and with a last glance over his shoulder, disappeared into the forest. (Y/n) sniffled, watching in a pained silence as his presence faded with the lull of the moon. She sheathed her blade and dried her tears with the back of her hand, wishing with all her might for the things that would never be.

Taisho Era Secrets!

-Over the years, Shinjuro's abuse lessened because (Y/n) fights back with a good pair of fists
-Senjuro gets very concerned over (Y/n)'s well-being because she does not take care of herself
-Shinazugawa and Iguro were angry at (Y/n) because she made Kyojurou worried sick
-Kyojurou is like (Y/n)'s big brother, but she has yet to call him aniki because it makes her nervous
-Akaza's punishment after he reported back to Muzan was the closest he had gotten to death. He does not regret what he did and his hatred towards Muzan grows daily.
-Tanjiro could smell (Y/n) and Akaza's happiness during their battle. When they parted, he also smelled the grief and it made him cry. Kyojurou was very confused.
-Akaza was very happy to see that (Y/n) still wore the snowflake hair clip he stole for her
-Akaza is so, so proud of (Y/n) and can gladly say she looks beautiful now that she's grown up more
-Zenitsu likes to talk (Y/n)'s ear off. After the battle, he could hear the way her heart flutintered (was this *gasp* love?!)

Chapter Text

'I try, but I fall, close my mind, turn it off
But I can't be sober, I cannot sleep
You've got your peace now, but what about me?'
-You Said You'd Grow Old With Me, Michael Schulte

The revitalizing scent of mint and freshly cut melon filled the kitchen as (Y/n) chopped away. Cicadas chirped in the backyard, right by the engawa where Tanjiro had cut the grass only hours ago in the morning. It wasn't often Slayers enjoyed the solace of personal time, but when they did, each second was cherished to the last minute.

(Y/n) poured four cups of mint lemon tea, ice cubes clacking around sharply. Sunlight shined upon her cheeks, yellow rays of summer warmth that left sweat trailing down her brow. The ice box had come in handy--an amazing device close to the modern refrigerator.

"Tanjiro, Zenitsu, Inosuke!"

A shout of 'coming!' came from the gardens. The boys thundered in with a group of giggles and jests, hands flailing about as the shoji doors closed shut with a 'BANG!'. Tanjiro made sure to catch the door before it snapped in its rails. "That was close..."

"Inosuke," growled Zenitsu with a scowl, "you should be more careful not to break (Y/n)'s doors!" A boar-like laugh escaped Inosuke's lips in response. When Zenitsu childishly shoved him away from the doorway, he fell to the ground on all fours and crawled to the kitchen like a wild rendition of Gollum.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. "You all have too much energy for such a hot day. Even you, Tanjiro. How long have you been preening my garden?" He sheepishly took a seat at the table as (Y/n) set down the tray of iced tea. "Since you said I could."

"Which was around?"

"Ten this morning." He let out a long sigh and gratefully took the tea, ice cubes singing their song. "It's just your garden looks so pretty, (Y/n). You had some weeds growing so I wanted to help." (Y/n) raised a brow. She put away the kitchen knife with a precarious twirl and set down a plate of cooled melon. "For two hours straight? You work too hard, Tanjiro. It's alright to give it a rest, even when I do appreciate it."

The cicadas seemed to buzz louder at this, as if to agree in some odd way. The sun filtering through the open windows made the summer heat wave hit ten fold. Inosuke stuffed his face with a fistful of melon, chewing noisily. "Yeah," --he swallowed and it was a miracle he hadn't choked-- "even I get sick in hot weather like this. Also, how'd you keep this cold, Senpai?"

Senpai--that was the title (Y/n) resorted to since Inosuke could never get her name right. He somehow understood how to say that word, yet not her name after hundreds of tries. "I was gifted something called an 'ice box'. A friend got it for me from Tokyo while on a trip. It keeps ice cold so you can use it all summer."

Tanjiro'd eyes lit up. He was such a country bumpkin. "Wow! That's really cool!" Inosuke stuffed his mouth with more melon in agreement, nodding along. "I dwont underswjad bwut yeah!"

Zenitsu sent him a pointed look. "Can you stop eating like that? It's disgusting."

The chatter bounced between light conversation, and the merry topics of in-season plants (Y/n) had growing out back. The mention of Kyojurou came up, then flew to the topic of Upper Moon Three: Akaza. It had been a few weeks since the encounter, yet the wounds upon (Y/n)'s heart lay fresh and bloodied.

"You were so strong!" Inosuke exclaimed, forest green eyes wide in admiration. "I couldn't even see you move. It was like a face-off between a fox and a wolf. I didn't know you could do that." Whatever that meant, (Y/n) would rather not venture into. She washed down the cutting board of its fruit juices and sat down to sip on her iced tea.

The condensation dampened her hands as she gripped the cup. "Is that so?" She offered a passive smile to mask the sorrow in her heart. "It was an unexpected encounter after the fight with Lower Moon One." Zenitsu's brows knitted tightly. He studied (Y/n)'s face, listened to the way her heart seemed to accelerate. "I was only there for the last bit of the battle. What happened?"

Tanjiro kindly explained the events that unfolded. From the arrival, to Akaza's (playful) punch to his forehead, and then to the stand off until the wee hours of dawn. He paused for a good moment, sipped the tea. It was lukewarm, yet still refreshing with the intertwined taste of lemon and mint. "I don't mean to intrude," he said. "But you seemed like you enjoyed the fight (Y/n)."

Her heart skipped a beat and she nearly choked on the tea. But Chisaki (Y/n) was not so stupid as to reveal her secrets. No, no, not the daughter of a Yakuza boss. Of course not. "I'm not sure what you mean Tanjiro." she vaguely answered. "There wasn't really much to the battle. We were at a stalemate."

But it was too late. How could she mask her scent from someone with such a good sense of smell? Even Kibutsuji Muzan, whom he encountered a few months ago, had been discovered by that pesky nose. Tanjiro's eyes suddenly widened. Zenitsu (curse his good hearing) paused too, jaw dropping to the ground.

"Don't tell me..."

"...You're in love?!"

Tanjiro sent Zenitsu an odd look, chuckling awkwardly. "That wasn't what I was going to say, but maybe you have a point."

Love. The revelation had (Y/n)'s walls crumbling in defeat, concern. She heaved out a long, long sigh decades beyond her years. "What are you guys talking about?" Because truly, she had no clue where they had come up with such a ridiculous idea. (Y/n) was fifteen, how could she know any romantic affections?

Oh, if Kai heard that she was (gods forbid) in love, he probably would have Overhauled someone on the spot. She could already imagine the way his face would twist into an everlasting scowl, those golden eyes that matched her own narrowed like blades.

"I do not understand the premise of your assumption," (Y/n) distantly said. "I have much more imperative tasks than worrying about romance." Yet her heart beat heavily in her chest. She thought of the night before when Akaza had 'coincidentally' stopped by to say 'hi'.

It had been the first time since their battle.

The first time since she realised what had finally surfaced within.

---

Silvery rays of moonlight fell upon (Y/n)'s dark locks. They swayed in the wind, tickled her cheeks. She stood in an empty field with only the sleeping flowers to accompany her wake. They danced in the summer breeze, taking solace in the cool night air.

A familiar presence spiked in the back of (Y/n)'s neck. Before she could utter a word, two firm hands landed on her shoulders. She jumped out of her skin.

"Boo."

(Y/n) slapped the intruder across the face before she could even think. She whipped around, liquid golden eyes wide in bewilderment. "What are you doing here, Akaza?" She couldn't say she was displeased at his sudden appearance (he was her favourite person on planet Earth), but the fact remained. How could the two of them interact when each moment served as a warning to death?

A demon and a demon slayer. Was Akaza trying to get them both killed?

The laugh bursting from his lips made those cute fangs protrude past his lips. "Your face," he snickered, "I've never seen you look so spooked!" (Y/n) gave him a pointed look, swatting at him to get that stupidly wonderful smile off his lips. "I was not spooked. You startled me, is all."

"Startled enough to slap an Upper Moon across the face?" He gestured to the fading marks across his cheek, lips quirked into a smug smirk. "You always pack a punch. That kinda hurt." (Y/n) folded her arms across her chest, sighed as a small smile crawled up her lips. "That wouldn't have happened if you didn't sneak up on me."

The moonlight seemed to glow brighter against Akaza's persimmon hues. A breeze passed and whistled against the trees, pulling (Y/n)'s bangs out of her hair clip. She lifted a hand to fix it, only for Akaza to gently brush the strands out of her eyes. He clipped it in place, admiring how the pale rhinestones dazzled against the night.

"You've grown up so much, it almost pains me." He placed a hand over his heart dramatically with a toothy grin. "Before I knew it, you turned from a little girl to a grown lady." (Y/n) snorted, bumping shoulders with him playfully. "You sound like my Oyaji. He always says stuff like that whenever it's someone's birthday."

(Y/n) intertwined her hands with Akaza's and he obliged completely, pulling her in close to his warm chest. She wasn't as small as he remembered, with those hands once a little over half the size of his. She stood taller too, finally at a height he didn't have to bend down to see.

It was sweet. Peaceful in the dancing moonlight to forget the world for a single moment, a single minute. (Y/n) rested her head in the crook of his neck as he held her close. "I thought I wouldn't see you again." Her eyes blurred and burned with tears. "For so long, I thought I was the cause of your death."

Akaza pulled her closer, hugged her tighter. He buried his face into her hair, savouring the fragrant scent of green tea. "You must have suffered," he quietly said. "I know you had, I could see how much you grieved."

(Y/n) swallowed down the tears. Hard. Her sniffle was nearly inaudible if not for Akaza's heightened senses. He began to sway from side to side in a gentle rock that matched the sway of the trees. Fireflies fluttered through the night, little lanterns that lit the field in darkness. "So the Flame Hashira is your teacher? He's very strong, but has yet to reach his full potential. Has he been good to you?"

There was something about that question that struck (Y/n) as odd. It was as if he knew something she did not, something he had seen but could not breathe a word of. She nodded, resting her cheek on his pink vest. "Yeah. He's like a brother and takes care of me well."

A flicker of irritation fluttered in Akaza's chest and (Y/n) sensed it within her bones. He frowned, lips taunt. "What of your living situation?" He danced around the question, waltzed on the tightrope's edge. (Y/n) lifted her head, rubbing at the tears she refused to shed. "There's nothing to worry about, so you don't have to stalk me if that's what you've been doing."

Akaza's lips pursed into a little pout. "I wasn't stalking you--"

"Really..."

"--yes, really. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, so I looked for you and found you at your mentor's house like, a year ago. You were yelling at the father and the younger son was crying, so I wanted to see what it was all about. It was just so loud and I got concerned, okay?" He squeezed his eyes tight with a sigh before reopening them, those bright hues illuminating with the moonlight. "Then I saw the father hit his son and you across the face. You both went flying into the side of the house before you got back up and gave back that fist tenfold."

The grin upon Akaza's lips widened proudly.

"I was so happy that you stood up for yourself that it made me a little emotional." He laughed brightly as he always did, face glittering with a happiness (Y/n)'s heart had longed to see. "And I would kill that ex-Hashira, but I have a feeling you wouldn't like that. Besides, I didn't want to butt in and make things worse."

(Y/n) nudged his side with her elbow and rolled her eyes with a huff. "Very considerate of you." Akaza swiped away a lone tear from her cheek with his thumb. "I won't kill him, promise." The suave coat in his tone like velvet made (Y/n) smile again. How she missed him, his stupid smug smirk, and simply everything that made Akaza Akaza.

It had been too long. Far too long since her heart felt so light. It fluttered as Akaza intertwined their hands with a gentle touch like snow. "What is it?" he inquired.

(Y/n)'s eyes watered again and she wondered what had given him such power to do so. She stood in silence with watery eyes.

(Y/n) wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't--

The gentle concern in Akaza's eyes made her walls nearly crumble to shards of ice. This vulnerability. She could not allow it to snap her defenses. "Everything...everything I thought I had keeps," she paused and swallowed hard, "keeps falling through my f-fingers. It doesn't get better now matter how hard I try." The sorrow in her eyes flared into a flame, a blazing fire that filled her veins with heated anger. "I've never felt so infuriated before. Never."

She thought of the broken tea cup in her hands, the tears Senjuro shed, the wounded strewn through the Butterfly Mansion, Shinjuro deathly drunk on the stairs, Nezuko who had been turned into a demon, Tanjiro who had lost everything, and everyone else...

The Demon King caused pain to fester within the ranks of the Corps. It was because of him that demons existed. Because of him that so many died. Because of him that (Y/n)...

...that (Y/n) thirsted for revenge. As a hero, that was so, so wrong, but what choice did she have? Where else could she direct this fire in her heart? Kyojurou always said, 'set your heart ablaze!'. Was it wrong for that fire to contain a different sort of flame? A different sort of emotion far from noble?

Chisaki (Y/n) once wanted to become a hero, and heroes did not spill the blood of their enemies. That option? It was nonexistent in this cruel, cruel world. Where death was common and the night a realm of darkness, there was nothing else but revenge to keep her going. To keep her running.

The arms encasing (Y/n)'s tense shoulders made her relax. It didn't matter how pathetically weak and stupid she looked in Akaza's arms. All her heart longed for, all every fibre of her being needed, was someone to hear her. Someone to listen. Someone to love her when she could not love herself (for she was tainted in red, an angry thing that seemed to thrive in darkness instead of light).

All those nights spent slaying, all those mornings training, all those evenings fighting Shinjuro until she couldn't bare to scream anymore...

Gods, when would this end? When? When? (Y/n) thirsted for the moment Kibutsuji's head rolled on the ground, and she, more than ever, felt her heart pound with anger. Akaza ran a hand over her head, those strong arms a comfort to the night air. It was suddenly much colder, much darker in the wee hours of the morning.

"What's wrong is that I hate myself," (Y/n) said with a cold laugh. "I hate myself so much. I can't imagine viewing myself in another light, not with the way I am."

For a while, they both stood still in time. If one had passed, all they would have seen were two shadows against the starry sky. Akaza had no words to offer. He knew none would mean more than the presence he offered. When it was time to go, he smiled fondly, warmly.

(Y/n)'s heart fluttered, and the heavy beat of her heart eased to tranquil waters. She met those luminous eyes the colour of persimmons--a fruit Oyaji used to bring home after work. Akaza planted a kiss to the top of (Y/n)'s head, a gentle press sweeter than honey. The smile ran away from his face, replaced with a difficult mix of pain, anger, and determination.

"You can't hate yourself," --his voice, so soft and kind, was the first snow of winter-- "not when you're the only person I've found joy with in this world."

There was another emotion in Akaza's beautiful eyes stained with centuries of corruption and atrocity, a swirling light reverberating from the very depths of his heart. He could not hide, not from (Y/n)'s heart that beat in perfect sync.

---

The sounds of crying and screaming broke (Y/n) from her spell. She blankly stared at the mess before her, head spinning in circles. Zenitsu lay sprawled on the floor, arms above his head as he rolled around like some rodent. Tears streamed down his face as he whined about 'marriage!' and 'the loss of innocent (Y/n) to a ruthless demon!'.

Pfft, what was Zenitsu talking about? It wasn't like he knew about (Y/n)'s friendship with Akaza, or the fact that he had kissed her forehead (it was entirely platonic, wasn't it?) like, yesterday night and smothered her in his comforting arms for what felt like an eternity.

Yes! (Y/n)'s friends did not know. Not Zenitsu who did not stop whining like a dying pig, or Inosuke who stuffed melon into his face with wide eyes. Yes, yes, and neither did Tanjiro who sat at the table with tears streaming down his face.

"Zenitsu!" he tearfully cried, eyes watery. "Did we break her?!"

"No! No! A demon has stolen (Y/n)'s heart! How dare he?! He dare he?! A bastard! What a bastard!"

"Demon?!" shouted Inosuke. "What demon?!"

Hmph. Who could ever break Chisaki (Y/n), the girl who grew up with the Yakuza, met at least one Mafia boss when she was eight, and learnt a thing or two in the black market? Besides, she hadn't said a thing to her dear little friends with spidy senses that could probably hear and sniff out her emotions! Right? Right.

Sweat formed at (Y/n)'s temple as she took a long, loud sip of iced tea. "You guys are overreacting. All I said was that fighting Akaza was a cinch. We were evenly matched, end of story."

Zenitsu sat up quicker than lightning, veins protruding from his hands as he clenched the sleeves of his haori tight. "End of story?! We're overreacting?!" His voice could have pierced (Y/n)'s eardrums if he kept going. Tanjiro, ever the angel, cut in with a calmer tone. "We should consider (Y/n)'s side of the story before we jump to conclusions. I'm sure there's more to this than we think."

A grunt came from Inosuke as he swallowed a bucket-full of melon. "What is love?" he inquired gruffly.

(Y/n) bit back the urge to answer with 'baby don't hurt me'. She sent him an indignant frown as he sipped his tea loudly, eyes wide in curiosity. It wasn't like anyone expected Inosuke to understand. He was dumb like that sometimes, but that didn't mean he was actually an idiot.

"In the wild," Inosuke set down his cup with a furrow of his brows, "animals just go with whoever they like. It's the same for you guys too, right? Even though he's Upper Moon Three."

A scoff escaped Zenitsu's lips. He sniffled dramatically with a screech and pointed a finger to Inosuke's chest. "What the fuck do you mean? It's not the same when we're talking about the Twelve Kizuki! Remember what the Lower Moon did to the train and the other one at Natagumo? Huh? Huh?! I had to drink that disgusting medicine for how many months! How many?!"

As Inosuke and Zenitsu battled it out over the pretense of love, demons, and the Demon Slayer Corps's regulations, Tanjiro turned to face (Y/n), those warm burgundy eyes trained with focus.

"When you were around Upper Moon Three, your scent smelled sweeter and content," he noted thoughtfully. "I won't ask about if you're in love or not since that's really personal, but I was wondering the reason you have affiliating yourself with him. It's not my place to say since Nezuko is also a demon, but considering the fact that he's an Upper Moon...I'm just a little worried, is all. You don't have to answer, I don't want to intrude."

A long sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips. She fiddled with her bangs, pulled out the hair clip where pale snowflakes dazzled in the golden rays of sun. Gently, she placed it on the table. "Akaza gifted this to me a few years ago."

The arguing came to a halt and a calm quiet filled the room. Inosuke crawled over to the table with Zenitsu in tow. He sniffled childishly before pausing to drink his tea.

"We went to see the fireworks at a festival that night. We traveled there from this old home we lived in for a couple days, but it was worth it. That was the first time I went to something like that and I had a lot of fun. I suppose that was because Akaza was with me, though." A fond sparkle shimmered in (Y/n)'s golden eyes. She stared at the table, every now and then looking up to meet the eyes of her friends.

They turned the hair clip in their hands, studying the beautiful glimmer of pale rhinestones. Zenitsu's eyes widened suddenly. "By the sound of it, I'm sure it's real stone instead of coloued glass. I don't know what kind, but it's definitely expensive!" His gaze narrowed suspiciously. "Did your boyfriend steal it?"

(Y/n) gave Zenitsu a sheepish smile. "He's not my boyfriend. And in his defense, the man he stole from was ripping off his customers by tripling the price."

"How do you know that's true?"

(Y/n)'s smile settled evenly and Zenitsu stiffened. "Akaza can't lie straight to my face," --her golden gaze was menacing in challenge-- "if he did, I'd know by the look on his face. He's an open book, plus, he can't stop talking once you get him started."

Inosuke leaned a hand on the table and rested his chin in it. "How did you meet Abaya?"

"Akaza." Zenitsu corrected with an irritated grunt. "It's A-ka-za."

The snowy forest not too far from the old samurai estate flourished in (Y/n)'s mind. She thought of the peaceful memories by the willow tree, the nights spent training and laughing about nothing and everything. "Akaza saved my life when I was ten," she began. "He found me in the snow by his hideout after I had taken out someone who tried to kill me."

The three boys seemed to lean closer to the table, further in as (Y/n) explained each memory.

"At first, Akaza was only interested in my strength, but over time, we came to a mutual understanding. He took care of me for some time and trained me. That's why our skill matched."

(Y/n) smiled a little, sadly, quietly.

"We used to talk for hours, or read books and paint. I had lost my family only recently and if not for him, I know I wouldn't be here today. One day, Upper Moon Two, Douma ratted him out to Muzan. In short, I ran away, then was found by Kyojurou-san, and you get the gist."

The three boys couldn't seem to wrap their heads around the story. Inosuke looked like half listened (too busy drinking all the mint lemon tea) while Tanjiro sat in a thoughtful silence, all while Zenitsu looked like his head would explode to atoms.

Tanjiro's brows knitted softly. The fondness filling (Y/n)'s heart weighed heavy with sorrow, and finally, after months of wondering, he understood. "If not for Akaza, you would have frozen to death. And if not for him, you would have either been killed or turned into a demon by Kibutsuji..." Tears welled in his eyes, droplets that reflected in sunlight like jewels. "I always knew you held something heavy inside, but I never understood why. That sounds awful, you must have been in so much pain."

Pain. It seemed to only increase with the passing days that ambushed (Y/n) in the back. She could crawl, gripe about the unfairness of the world, and claw her way through life, yet none of the weight in her heart could disappear. Not until she saw Kibutsuji's head rolling on the ground.

Bitter anger left (Y/n)'s blood boiling in flames. She heaved in a long breath, releasing the vengeful thoughts with a strained smile. "Tanjiro, don't waste your tears on me, please." He only shook his head, sniffling with reddened cheeks. Those burgundy eyes so kind and sweet met (Y/n)'s own.

"If I don't cry for you," --tears shone like droplets of moonlight-- "who will?"

---

Until dawn.

Until dawn.

Until dawn.

How long until dawn? Each second lasted an eternity, each minute a loop of infinity. Despite the scrapes, the broken bones, the lost limbs and spilled blood, dawn refused to come.

Only a little more, the crows had cawed. A little longer before this dreadful nightmare ended.

(Y/n) could not find the end of the tunnel, nor a loop to secure the hatred within her soul. As the Ice Hashira, she refused to admit defeat when hundreds laid down their lives for this very dawn.

But then something unexpected happened. Tanjiro, oh the sweet, sweet boy, had become a demon. A devil. This boy, the one she met that night on Natagumo, defended when the other Hashira scorned him, and befriended, became a demon. A demon.

It was laughable, really. Tanjiro had worked so hard to find a cure for his sister, only to become the very thing he swore to vanquish.

Those kind, soft smiles, those eyes warmer than a fire--was this the end of Kamado Tanjiro? The boy with a heart of pure gold? An icy pang made (Y/n)'s blood run cold. He lifted his head, where a large lump of flesh covered half his young face. Those eyes (Y/n) had come to cherish for its kindness were void of humanity, void of what made Tanjiro Tanjiro.

This was the ultimate price--the ultimate sin created by the Demon King himself.

"Tanjiro," (Y/n)'s grip went slack on her blade, "Tanjiro..."

He remained still, fangs bared as drool dribbled down his chin. It was difficult to imagine blood on his hands when he had been a precedent. There was no other Slayer like Tanjiro, no other being as understanding and blessedly empathetic as him. Kibutsuji had taken control of his very soul, there was no way of curing him. No means of reversal.

Was this the only path to victory? By sacrificing everyone (Y/n) loved?

The blade trembled in her hands. Killing Tanjiro? No, no, the very thought made her want to burst into tears. Hadn't Kibutsuji taken enough? Hadn't he already stolen everyone she loved? How was it not be enough? How?

Akaza's last smile flashed within the dark depths of (Y/n)'s broken mind. She recalled the fading light from Muichiro's eyes, the last breaths Genya took, and the news of Shinobu's death. No more. She couldn't take it.

"(Y/N)!"

It all happened so suddenly. One moment, (Y/n)'s blade glinted against the first light of a red dawn, the next, she was face to face with Tanjiro, his katana lodged in her side. Blood splattered the dirt in thick blossoms of red and pain filled her mind with a numbing burn in her side. Kanao shouted something, then Giyuu, but it was all background noise. All dead to her fading world.

Was this the end? It must be.

(Y/n) fell to her knees, coughing and choking and sputtering on thick ribbons of blood. All her strength had been spent throughout the everlasting evil of night. If she tried using her Quirk to heal, she would die trying. Her tired golden eyes glinted in the sunlight as she watched Tanjiro's skin burst into flames. He howled in pain, cried out to the incoming dawn. But as soon as it had come...

...the burning stopped.

Tanjiro--no, Kibutsuji--had conquered the sun. He was going to win. He was going to win and (Y/n) was going to die. But she couldn't die yet, not until she knew he was dead for good. "Tanjiro...you have to...fight it," --she collapsed on her side with a grunt-- "please...fight...!"

Giyuu's knees buckled violently as he took a knee in the dirt. Blood caked his skin, dripped down the wounds peppering his body. "(Y/n). Stand. Please." He sounded so broken, so desperate for hope. But what was hope? This was the final battle and they were losing.

Kibutsuji kept taking, and taking, and taking...

And if (Y/n) threw in the towel, allowed her heart's flame to die out, no one would be able to stop the very incarnation of evil.

Kokoro wo moyase.

Kokoro wo moyase!

Set your heart ablaze--that was the core teaching Kyojurou embedded into (Y/n)'s mind. Yes, that was right. She could not give up.

"I'm f-fine, Giyuu," (Y/n) rasped out. She hauled her heavy limbs up one by one, dug her numb legs into the ground to stand. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar head of black hair racing through the battlefield.

Nezuko? Why was she here? Wasn't Urokodaki taking care of her while she took the medicine? (Y/n) coughed roughly and raised her blade, knees heavy like lead. Her gaze fell on Nezuko as she threw her arms around Tanjiro's arms with a cry. He growled and sunk his teeth into her shoulder, but she refused to let go. Refused to give up on the last of her family.

Tendrils sprouted from Tanjiro's back, another wild growl ripping through his throat. Giyuu quickly jumped into the fray.

Why?

Why?

Why?

(Y/n) raised her blade and slashed. Each form jumped between Flame and Ice. She was getting desperate, wasn't she? The begging need to simply lie down forever and close her eyes struck with each step she took. A flash of pink and purple dashed through the rubble.

A small bottle caught (Y/n)'s eye and she heaved in a long breath. If there ever was god out there, she hoped for them all to be on her side. Ice sprouted from the tip of her blade as Kanao raced forward. She dodged a large tendril, and with great courage, stabbed a needle into Tanjiro's flesh.

Whatever Kanao had was their only hope. The sun would not work. Blades were useless. Even Nezuko could not get into Tanjiro's head with her screaming into his ear.

Half a minute passed in tense focus before Tanjiro's eyes fluttered shut. He fell limp against Nezuko, who began to sob loudly. It could have been a century that passed in the next three minutes. Would Tanjiro survive? Would he die? All anyone could do was pray. And pray and pray for his safety.

Tanjiro's eyes snapped open and they were not a blood red, but a gentle, kind burgundy.

(Y/n)'s knees gave out. She landed in the dirt with a sigh of relief as tears blurred her vision. Giyuu settled beside her, sniffling quietly as he cried for what seemed to be the first time in years. Gods, what a miracle. What a gosh-dang miracle.

The dirt and rocks sinking into (Y/n)'s palms slipped her mind. It was hard to feel anything at all over the rush of blood in her ears and the frantic beat of her heart. "He...he made it..." She heaved in a shallow breath, head lolling to her chest. The world's colour was fading, but maybe it was just the tears. "It's...it's over..."

A kakushi swiftly caught (Y/n) and laid her down. He placed two fingers to her wrist, brows knitting with teary eyes. "She's not going to make it!"

The wailing, oh, who was that crying so loudly? (Y/n) blinked harshly against the morning rays of sun. The faint feeling of Zenitsu's hands on her haori made her turn her attention to the blond boy. "Don't die!" he screeched. "You can't die (Y/n)!"

Giyuu didn't care to shush him for once. Instead, he turned to her as golden rays illuminated the tears on his cheeks. "(Y/n)," --Giyuu sounded so tired, so broken-- "you did well. You did very well. I know Rengoku-san would be so proud of you."

(Y/n) stifled a bloody cough and met his eyes so calm like water. Through the numb pain in in arms, she reached up to catch the salty droplets, gut churning in worry. She felt the frustration in Giyuu's aura, sensed the sorrow filling his heart. "Why...are you crying?"

It was a stupid question, and Giyuu seemed to think so too. "I couldn't protect you when you needed me most." he thickly said. "If I had been quicker, you wouldn't have been impaled." Oh, Giyuu. He always had such a bad habit blaming himself. It was a trait him and (Y/n) bonded over, shared together like a seesaw. "Not...your fault, Giyuu-san."

"But it is. You're going to die because of my incompetence."

With whatever strength (Y/n) possessed, she weakly punched him in the side. "You're...a dummy. Not...your fault..."

The wailing got louder, whoever it was.

A familiar face so kind and soft sobbed in hysterics. Burgundy hair to match a fiery set of eyes, calloused hands much too rough for a boy his age. "I-I'm sorry," Tanjiro sobbed. "I h-hurt you, (Y/n). I stabbed you with my k-katana, and now...now you're going to die because of me."

(Y/n) blankly stared at the sky. It was so blue, so pretty with those fading oranges and purples. If only Akaza were here, she would make fun of him and tell him about how much it reminded her of his hair and eyes. "Not...your fault." she whispered. "Zenitsu, Inosuke, don't...cry too much, okay? You will...get dehydrated. And...Nezuko...I'm so...happy you're...human again."

Nezuko took hold of (Y/n)'s torn haori like she always had when she was a demon. "Thank you," --it was nice to hear her speak for once-- "thank you so much for all you've done, (Y/n)-nee."

(Y/n)-nee. Even in her last moments, Nezuko had been so kind as to refer to her so sweetly. Did (Y/n) deserve that? No, most definitely not. A smile rose to her lips anyway, heart overflowing with an indescribable contentment. Those that had survived were safe, and Kibutsuji was dead. Even though she did not see his head roll on the floor, she could rest in peace.

Everyone could finally live their lives. They didn't have to fear the demons that haunted the night.

"Sanemi...safe...?" she inquired. The Wind Hashira wasn't someone (Y/n) usually got on with well, but when she needed someone, he was always there in shadow. Giyuu nodded. "Shinazugawa-san is asleep." he answered with a sniffle. "But he is alive."

That was all (Y/n) could have asked for. She hoped he wouldn't regret too much the moment he woke up. "Tell...Shinazugawa-san...that he was a jerk and I still...don't like him. And also...tell him...'thank you'. Also, Kanao-chan..."

"Y-yes?"

"I'm...proud of how far you've come..." (Y/n) closed her eyes with a smile. "All of you...well done." She could already see the other side. Akaza waited for her with a smile, those persimmon eyes of his now a beautiful sky blue. His arms were open for her, wide in the affectionate embrace she craved. Pride glimmered on his face clear as daylight.

"I'm...going to miss you all...but don't die...for a while, okay?"

(Y/n) closed her eyes, lips drawn into a smile as she took in her last breath.

---

A void of nothing greeted (Y/n). She walked past a wall of flames, where light fell from the seemingly endless sky (or what she assumed to be) in beautiful rays of sun. Akaza stood amongst the light, and within a blink, engulfed (Y/n) in warmth. She eased into his embrace, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder.

"Bakaza," --her voice wavered thickly with tears-- "you're so stupid." A small chuckle gentle as snow fell from his lips as he pulled away. "I'm sorry, Wonder Girl." His hands always so caring and comforting gave (Y/n)'s a tight squeeze. "You can't stay here."

She furrowed her brows in confusion. What did he mean she 'couldn't stay here'? Her life had literally ended. She drew her last breath. Bled out on the damn ground. Said her goodbyes in the light of dawn. What more could she need from life when it was already over--

"It's not over, not yet," Akaza firmly said. "Be strong. After all, you've never been weak. I'd know anyhow, even without my Blood Demon Art." A smirk rose to his lips, everlasting with that teasing note that made (Y/n)'s heart flutter. She held fast to his fading hands, reached out as he shoved her away and to the depths of the abyss.

"Akaza!"

He smiled again--that sweet, beautiful smile that looked as if she had drawn all the stars into the midnight skies.

---

(Y/n)'s head spun. Bustling cars echoed throughout the street. Her limbs refused to move, tacked to the ground and stapled for good measure. (Y/n) heaved in a shallow breath and choked on sticky blood. The loud honk of a car startled her senses back into overdrive. She cracked open her tired eyes, sat up with another cough. They were so short-fused in the city. Always in a rush.

Wait, city? Honking?

Something soft flew past the edges of (Y/n)'s nose. She squinted against the bright sun reflecting off the skyscrapers. Where the heck was she? Cotton filled her mind as she thought and thought. Something wasn't right. But what was that something?

Another cough ripped through (Y/n)'s scratchy throat. For a moment, she wondered if she would regurgitate her lungs, but that was physically impossible considering the size compared to the esophagus. A firm pair of arms swooped her up into the sky and a vague outline of crimson wings registered in her mind.

Whoever this man was, offered a small smile like the very wind itself. Carefree, light, airy. "You'll be okay, just hang on a little longer okay?"

Hang on a little longer.

Wasn't that what (Y/n) had done when the sun refused to rise over the horizon?

When her friends died at her very feet?

When she looked death straight in the eyes with every breath she took?

(Y/n) fought to stay awake, struggled to keep her heavy eyelids open. They kept fluttering as she heaved in another strangled breath. In a flurry of cool air and the incessant screeching of police sirens, the world faded to black.

Nothing. That was what (Y/n) should have dreamt of. Yet her mind, however traumatised by her final moments, conjured up the image of blood red eyes, a face paler than moonlight, and a monster straight from the very depths of hell.

"Kibutsuji Muzan." The name tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips like acid. "You're dead." The demon took a seat at the head of the long dinner table, a disinterested look in his sharp gaze. A single light swung overhead, creaking on the thick cord attaching itself to the infinite expanse of black. A cold smile rose to his lips and the wooden chair beneath him creaked as he leaned forward.

"I am dead," he confirmed. "So why am I here?"

Blood lust flooded (Y/n)'s brain like a cracked dam. She wanted to laugh. Cruel, icy anger pulsed in her veins as she heaved in frantic breaths. This man killed her friends. Her family. Her loved ones. He murdered billions.

And for that? Well, he would die again. And again. And again. (Y/n) unsheathed her katana, the wintry purples and blues reflecting off the dim light above. "Don't play games with me," she tightened her stance, "why are you here?"

"If I knew I wouldn't have asked." Kibutsuji coldly stated. "You act as if you're the smartest in the room, yet can't conclude the cause of my question? To think you were actually someone worth my interest." He stood and circled around the table like a shark to its prey, gears grinding in the back of his mind.

Chisaki (Y/n) was not an ordinary girl. From the moment Kibutsuji learned of her existence, he sensed her unusual energy, her odd perception. Akaza threw his very future away for this little teenager. He threw his life away too, and in his final moments, allowed her to decapitate him as a freebie (when it was obvious who the actual victor was).

If it weren't for Chisaki (Y/n), Rengoku Kyojurou would have died an early death on Mugen Train, and Tanjiro and Giyuu wouldn't have arrived to the final battle unscathed. This girl was special to Akaza, and that was what made her so dangerous. A scowl rose to Kibutsuji's perfectly perfect face. "Why did Upper Moon Three insist on throwing his life away for you?"

It was as if (Y/n)'s heart had been stabbed, wretched out of her chest, torn, and then thrown back into her rib cage again. Her fingers trembled tightly around the hilt of her katana, golden eyes sharper than knives. "Don't speak lowly of Akaza," she seethed. "I'll kill you."

(Y/n) blinked and Kibutsuji appeared before her, those blood red eyes boring into hers with a suppressed fury. "How old are you now?" His cold, bony fingers wrapped around her neck, squeezing the fragile flesh around her windpipe. "Almost fifteen, yes? So young. So beautiful. So fragile."

The pressure increased as Kibutsuji lifted her body off the ground. (Y/n) struggled to keep her bearings, to not give in to the everlasting hatred filling her very soul. "What...does it matter to you?" Her feet dangled, two useless things frozen high in the air. "You're dead." Kibutsuji's jaw tensed, grip tightening. "That's only what you choose to believe, Little Ice Hashira."

He squeezed harder and a loud snap! echoed in the abyss. Pain flooded (Y/n)'s dulled senses, a sensation that tingled her in excruciating agony.

--

(Y/n)'s eyes wildly snapped open. She jolted up, only for a pair of firm hands to slowly push her back into bed. The sheets itched against her bandaged forearms as the man adjusted the rough blankets.

Where in the world was this? Clearly electricity was a thing, meaning this was the city. A very big one at that. The nauseatingly white walls made (Y/n)'s eyes hurt as she squinted at the dull room. A florescent light shone above in competition with the sunlight outside. Odd. Since when did anyone own a cool-toned light? It was always yellow. Always.

The low beep of a heart monitor made (Y/n)'s shoulders tense. She stared at the device, then the IV drip and the needle tacked in her arm. This...this was not the Taisho Era, was it? Much less the Butterfly Estate at that. Shinobu had always made sure to place her in the calmest portion of the infirmary, far away from the Kamaboko Squad who made too much ruckus for their own good.

Aoi-chan wasn't here either, including the three twins and Kanao-chan...

A man with crimson wings and a gruff face akin to some indie band singer sat in some cheap metal lawn chair. "You shouldn't try moving yet," his tone was light, reassuring almost, "or you might actually die this time around." His unruly blond hair fluttered in the cool breeze outside. Cars honked faintly, where the occasional angry shout echoed up to the rooftops.

Yes, this was not the Taisho Era. Definitely not the Taisho Era.

A sigh between awe and exasperation left the man's lips. "I still can't believe you didn't get run over by a car. You appeared out of nowhere, and if I weren't flying around, that intersection would have been your grave."

Silence fell over the room as (Y/n) studied his expressions. He looked like a person who would hide secrets, judging by the way he folded his hands and calmly went about speaking. It was easy to get caught up in his casual demeanor. A perfect front for a swindler, or maybe even a murderer.

The silence must have drawn out too far, because the man waved his arms around quickly. "Ah, sorry, sorry!" He smiled sheepishly. "I was just kidding, kid. No need to get all worked up. The doctors and nurses here did a good job patching you up, I'm sure you'll recover within two weeks, give or take."

(Y/n)'s brows knitted tightly. Judging by the fact that this winged guy supposedly saved her, he was a hero (and a decent one at that; fast enough to bring her to the hospital before she bled out). Only one question remained.

"Who are you?"

The winged man leaned out of his chair, brows raised in curiosity. "Oh? You don't know who I am?" He rubbed the back of his neck, brushed back a few loose strands of hair. "I'm Winged Hero: Hawks, nice to meet you. What's your name, kid?"

Ah, so he was a Pro Hero. Made sense. "Chisaki...(Y/n)," she politely answered with a stifled cough. It was clear Hawks already knew her name (he probably had her on file) and only asked to break the ice. The act was rather endearing, if she said so herself. Kind, almost. It made her ease into his oddly casual presence--one that was hard to come by in the Demon Slayer Corps. There was never a person who wasn't on guard. Ever.

Hawks opened a water bottle and handed it to (Y/n). She thanked him and took a long swig, bandaged hands trembling ever so slightly. When she was done, she looked up to meet Hawks's ever watchful gaze. He seemed to follow her ever movement, brain spinning and spinning in circles for answers.

"Where did you come from?" Hawks finally inquired. "Like I said, I found you lying in the middle of a four way intersection in one of those shopping districts. You were nearly run over by a car, and when I found you, you were gravely injured."

Ah, that fact hadn't fully settled into (Y/n)'s brain. She couldn't quite seem to hurdle over the initial shock of appearing back in her original time period. Those cars, those skyscrapers--they had not been a figment of her imagination at the doors of death, but a very real, very scary reminder of where she was now.

And where her dear friends had been. This was the future, meaning everyone (Y/n) loved and cared for was dead. Long gone to the wind in graves stacked upon graves.

"I...I don't know." The words falling from her lips made her almost want to laugh. "I...only remember being hit with someone's Quirk and then...."

A knock on the door made (Y/n) pause and glare at the bed sheets. She listened carefully to the sound of the sliding door, to the pairs of heavy boots stepping into the room. The police. Of course they had to be involved, why else would Hawks be here?

"Excuse us," said one of the police officers. "We would like to ask some questions, if you don't mind."

(Y/n) tightened her hold around the plastic water bottle in her hands. She just survived the longest battle of her life, died, and nearly got run over by a whole highway of cars. What more did these people want from her? What more could she provide to this stupid world filled with stupid people?

That was right, because in honest truth, evil always remained. It didn't matter where one went or how far they strayed. Everyone wanted something, and some were more willing to use the toughest means to satisfy such. (Y/n) was different. She got her revenge, achieved what she practically breathed on the daily. Her purpose had finally left this world, so why was she still alive? Why not Genya? Or Muichiro? Or Mitsuri and Obanai who deserved each other more than life itself?

The policemens' gazes seemed to burn into the side of (Y/n)'s face as she frowned to the disturbingly pale blanket. "If you're going to ask something, make it quick." she tiredly said. "I don't want to be here as much as you, and I bet Hawks is a busy man."

If this were three years ago, (Y/n) would have been thrilled (come on, a Pro Hero in her measly presence? How cool was that?). But her world had changed the moment she was thrust into the Taisho Era.

A man with black hair and thick brows took a step towards the bed, tipping his tan fedora hat. "Alright," he said, offering an awkward smile. "I'm Tsukauchi Naomasa. What's your name?"

"Chisaki (Y/n)."

"Age?"

"Erm...thirteen--no, fourteen, I believe."

"Why were you carrying around a katana? Is it registered?"

Oh, great. (Y/n) gave a long-suffering sigh and met the policeman's gaze with the deadest stare she could muster. "Self-defense. And no, it's custom made by this group of traditional guys who are so old-school that they don't know the concept of a license." The sarcasm leaking into her voice made Tsukauchi glance at his colleagues. They all shrugged with puzzled looks.

Tsukauchi settled for jotting something down on his notepad. "Alright...you can have it registered as we speak. Once you do so, keep the card with the katana at all times."

"Wait, really?"

The gears in Tsukauchi's mind churned like a stormy beach. It was impossible to forge a sword in the country without a licensed practitioner. He had already called someone in to take a look at the weapon, but had yet to hear back from them. The possibility of it being a family heirloom was also plausible, yet he couldn't imagine another reason to carry around a whole katana while suffering life-threatening injuries.

Besides, (Y/n) had admitted to it being for self-defense. There was no reason for her to lie. For all he knew, maybe she fought someone with a teleportation Quirk in her own home and chose to wield the heirloom in order to protect herself. That would explain the lack of blood on the sword (she must have been an amateur) and the terrible wounds she suffered.

"Yes, your katana is being registered right now." Tsukauchi finally answered, nodding. "Are you aware that you ended up in the middle of a four-way intersection in the busiest portion of the city? If so, what were you doing and how did you get there?"

The memory of blood red eyes and fangs appeared in the back of (Y/n)'s mind. "No, officer." Her voice was much too steady, much too sure of herself to have been true. "I have no recollection of how I got there."

Tsukauchi jotted another note down, probably 'amnesia'. "Do you remember who attacked you?"

"I don't know, sir." (Y/n) ran a finger over the bandages around her calloused palms. "All I know is that I hit my head pretty hard when I woke up on the pavement." That also wasn't a lie, and judging by the bandage around her head, she sustained some sort of head injury. Surely the medical records included some sort of x-ray, right? The police had to have looked at those.

"Any recollection of the last place you were in?"

(Y/n) shook her head.

"What of your family?"

Family. What was (Y/n) supposed to answer with? She went missing for four years. An 'oh yeah, I was in my room when some crazy guy tried to kill me yesterday' would not suffice when her family had no clue where she was. But what of her predicament? The whole 'blast to the past'?

A cool prickle at the back of (Y/n)'s neck made her purse her lips tightly. Hawks's calculating gaze seemed to run a variety of scenarios in that head of his, all the while drawing to a complete blank. She couldn't say having the eyes of some cute winged hero was a bad thing (even though it was), because in the end, it didn't matter when she was ready to drop dead and ascend to the Heavens.

"I've heard the name Chisaki," Hawks sat up a little straighter in that cheap metal chair. "You don't happen to be related to the Yakuza, do you?" (Y/n) raised a brow, feigning ignorance. "And what of it?"

It was like a light bulb turned on in Hawks's mind. He snapped his fingers, amber eyes widening. "Oh, you're the girl that's been missing for four years!" he concluded. "The adoptive daughter from the Shie Hassaikai."

The realisation spread like wildfire. The policemen all nodded to themselves, mutters of, 'oh, I remember' ringing out.

"That guy wouldn't stop searching for a long time," one of them noted. "And the adoptive son even sued someone for a huge sum of money. It was a really long time ago, but I remember seeing it on the news a lot."

Something between a sigh and a laugh escaped (Y/n)'s lips. Of course Kai would do that. It was profitable for the Shie Hassaikai, a good move in the face of their failing recognition. Tsukauchi clicked his pen noisily with a hum. "Well then, where were you for the past four years?"

An overflowing sense of longing washed over (Y/n)'s weariness. She thought of Kyojurou's booming voice, the boisterous arguments and play fighting during each Hashira meeting, the calming sound of Oyakata-sama's voice, the laughter of her friends, the warmth of Akaza's arms.

What point was there in lying? They were all dead, after all, ten feet under just as the man who sent her to the past. The police were bound to find out at some point since teleportation Quirks, although rare, weren't impossible. "I suppose I don't have much of a choice. There's no point in lying anymore since it's all over anyway." (Y/n) sighed for what felt like the hundredth time since she woke up. "Do what you will with this information, just...all I ask is you don't tell my brother yet."

Tsukauchi didn't hesitate to nod. He seemed to understand the circumstance, rather well for someone like him (the police were usually rather dull despite their job descriptions). "Please, tell me as much as you can, Chisaki-san."

The story began with the tale of those that lurked in the night, the ones with luminous eyes and abilities that outmatched anyone of that era. It left the room in silence, brought upon its inhabitants a weight heavier than fifty tons of steel. Every now and then (Y/n) paused to shake her head, or stare distantly at the window where rays of afternoon light seeped in from the blue bird sky.

By the end of it, Tsukauchi had practically filled up his whole notepad. His brows furrowed tight to the tip of his hairline, where those hardened eyes shone with a deep sense of pity. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," -- what a usual response, one anyone who did not truly know would say-- "that must have been terrifying for a young girl such as yourself to endure. We appreciate your honesty."

(Y/n) shook her head. "Never mind that, are you going to arrest me or what? I murdered the guy with that teleportation Quirk. That's a felony."

The policemen all glanced at each other as if to confirm something. Probably the total years of (Y/n)'s life sentence. Well, not like she cared. That sounded much easier than showing up on her family's doorstep with a loud shout of 'I'M HOME!' after going missing for so long. They probably all forgot about her by now in order to move on with their lives.

How else could anyone like them cope? It was a natural response, a natural reaction that made sure they could all get on with their lives.

Tsukauchi clicked his pen and stood. "As of now, we won't arrest you. There's no evidence that you had murdered the man who sent you to the past besides your own word." He offered a smile and it was close to reassuring. "Please, bear with us until we are able to sort things out. I'll personally come to speak with you again tomorrow. Until then, get some rest. Thank you for answering my questions, it offered a lot of insight to things we couldn't really understand."

The policemen filed out of the room with collective bows. Their heavy boots clicked against the heather tiles as they quietly spoke amongst themselves, the door sliding shut behind. Silence bathed the room, save for the soft breeze tumbling through the open window.

"Chisaki-san." Hawks folded his arms together, amber eyes glimmering sharply in the golden rays. She tiredly turned to look at him, brows furrowed in disinterest. "Just call me (Y/n)-kun or something." she distantly said. "I don't care as long as it's not 'chan'."

Hawks nodded in understanding. "Alright, (Y/n)-kun. Considering the man who used his Quirk on you did attempt to murder you, I think it's fair to offer a proposal."

Proposal? (Y/n) already had a tainted record after killing her old math teacher (and a few others). There was nothing to 'propose' when she was literally the scum of the Earth. She wanted to repent for all the lives struck down by her very sword, atone for her sin as a Slayer (a being who killed those who had once been human).

"My proposal is simple." A smile rose to Hawks' lips, sharper than his hawk-like gaze. "Attend U.A. and become a hero."

(Y/n)'s golden eyes widened.

"In return, you will be cleared of all charges and your record will be left blank. You were lucky enough that the media never got their hands on you despite your previous murders, so it's no biggie to have your files on lock and key." He searched (Y/n)'s face littered with bandages and plasters. "So? Not a bad deal, right? If you're successful, you'll be all good for the rest of your life. It's pretty obvious the Yakuza have been struggling, extra money isn't a bad thing, y'know?"

There was something odd in the way Hawks lazily sat in his chair. And if the world had been ending in this very moment, (Y/n) was sure he would have sat there, face aglow with a giddy power, as if he were the one to push the first domino on its path to defeat.

Ah, so that's what it was, huh? Hawks was smart. He had already begun to pick (Y/n) apart (her past, her needs, her wants), one by one to give her both an option and a corner to scramble around. But why would he resort to such means? And why would he be so slick about something so shady?

(Y/n)'s eyes zeroed on Hawks's challenging gaze. "What's in it for you?" She was very much awake, very much on her toes. No way would she let some giant chicken double-cross her. "You must have something to gain from me to offer such a generous deal."

Hawks threw up his hands in false surrender. "Well, looks like you got me." He smiled cunningly, lips quirked up into a perfectly balanced half circle. "The year you went missing, I was in the area by chance, just as I have been this week. I usually operate in Kyushu, but there was something the higher ups wanted me to do this month. Anyway, I was asked to look into someone named 'Yamaguchi Haruka'. His Quirk was registered as 'Time Travel'."

A cloud passed overhead, obscuring the golden rays from view. The room fell into an uncanny white under the fluorescent light, where shadows thrived in the sudden quiet.

"You seem like a smart kid, (Y/n). I'm sure you can already guess what my higher ups were after." Hawks said, smile faltering. "The Hero World isn't all dreams and lolly gagging. There're greedy people who take what they can to benefit their name and rise in the ranks. Anyway, when I actually found that Yamaguchi guy, he thought it would be smart to start a road race towards a school. I thought he was alone, but some other accomplice showed up and I lost sight of the car. When I got past the guy, I arrived just in time to see the car run straight into a young girl. She disappeared, and so did Yamaguchi."

The world seemed to come to a slowed stop. All this time, (Y/n) thought her luck had simply run south in that very moment. She assumed it had to do with the ice on the road, or the below freezing temperatures. How else had a car skidded through the street in a school-zone? How else could such an idiotic accident happen? "So Yamaguchi had been running away from you?"

"Only because I wanted to ask him a few questions." Hawks finished. "It turns out he wasn't the best guy, found himself locked behind bars more than three times, all for disgusting crimes that make me sick." Hawks didn't care to mention what, but (Y/n) didn't need to know. The man was dead anyway.

Just like her cherished friends.

"I assume your higher ups want intel?" (Y/n) inquired with a frown. "Unless there's something more you're withholding." Hawks shook his head and she felt his earnest heart beat in her very bones. "No, the opposite actually. If you don't have something that makes them turn a blind eye, then you'll be subject to their experiments. Obviously there's more to 'Time Travel' than just time-traveling."

Well, there wasn't much to really surmise about that. (Y/n) hadn't spent too much time wondering when she thought she was stuck in the Taisho Era for life. It was easier to assume there was no turning back than to wonder when instead. But now that the question rose from the dead, (Y/n) was left to wonder.

"I was able to come back," she noted. "So there was a time limit. Still, I don't see how that's useful when the guy's dead."

A shadow passed over Hawks' expression like the looming clouds outside. He leaned forward in his seat, gaze lulling over with intense focus. "I would tell you, but it's classified. All I can say is that you need someone to protect you from the Hero Public Safety Commission, else you're good as dead. You'll become a puppet, their very own weapon. And with your Quirk, I can already tell you how your future will be."

(Y/n) stiffened, shoulders tensing. "The HPSC," --her eyes widened-- "you're kidding, you work directly for them? That's terrible." A dry chuckle escaped Hawks's lips. He rubbed the back of his head, shrugging. "See, I knew you'd get it. That's why I'm proposing that you attend U.A., you know? As a student in such a prestigious school, it'd be risky to make any rash moves, therefore eliminating their eyes from you. Plus, you'd be under U.A.'s protection anyway, another plus."

The HPSC. (Y/n) recalled Oyaji mentioning them more than once around the Yakuza members. Everyone knew them as the 'boot lickers' and the 'bastard five' because they always got in the way. It was thanks to them, really, that the Yakuza's oppression only increased. The HPSC were supposed to help the people, not drive them into a corner as outlaws.

Gods, this was giving (Y/n) such a bad headache. She literally died like, what, yesterday? What more could this world need besides everything she had? The frown on her lips did not escape Hawk's sharp senses. "I'm assuming you feel guilty about not catching Yamaguchi," she noted with a sigh. "That's why you're helping me, right? You want to atone for something you believe you could prevent."

The metal chair creaked as Hawks sat up a little straighter. He leaned over his knees, folded his hands together. "If it weren't for my incompetence, you wouldn't've been thrown into the past." He paused, a humourless smile on his lips. "So yes, I do feel guilty, especially after hearing your story. Besides that, I don't think it's right for the HPSC to snatch up people and do what they like. You probably have an idea of what they're capable of and that's just the surface-level."

A scoff escaped (Y/n)'s lips, faint irritation sparking in her numb chest. "I'd be surprised if people actually trusted them. Anyone with that much power is bound to be corrupted." She met his gaze head-on, liquid golden eyes hard as ice. "I will take up your proposal if you answer one question, Hawks."

"Shoot."

The clouds burst from the sun and yellow rays fell upon the crystal clear window. (Y/n)'s eyes illuminated against the light, gems that told a thousand stories of yesterday.

"What gives me a reason to live?"

---

Hawks was a cautious man.

As an insider who gathered intel and did the occasional espionage mission, he learned the truth behind 'kill or be killed'. Most heroes never got a taste of high stakes besides the occasional big-bad villain meandering through their assigned prefecture.

Hawks?

Well, he was special--or as special as anyone would say a flightless bird. He was normal despite the praise for his Quirk Fierce Wings, human despite his tendencies to do things a little 'too fast for his own good', and too idealistic to get rid of that stupid dream in the back of his mind (it kept him sane, kept him alive).

"I thought Yamaguchi disappeared due to his Quirk," Hawks said with a tight-lipped frown. "It's been four years since the incident and there's been zero evidence to look for." The atmosphere hung heavy as his gaze rose from the files in hand. They were all the usual as far as he could remember: date, name, description, story, yada, yada, ya. Not like Hawks actually cared to read it much.

It had been many years. Many years and the President of the HPSC still couldn't let this case go? Sure, some Yakuza boss lost his adopted daughter (and Hawks did feel a bit of pity), but what did that matter? In the grand scheme of things, the President really just wanted another go at snatching up some 'special Quirk' with those grubby hands of hers. It could be another asset to 'better the life of the people'.

Hawks didn't buy that bullshit. He wasn't stupid like the rest of his comrades, or Lady Nagant who went MIA and ended up in Tartarus.

He set the files down on the President's unnervingly squeaky clean desk, gaze hard. "I still have a job to do in Kyushu. You said you wanted me posted by the south since crime rates spiked. I can't just leave, there's been a mass murderer rampaging in that prefecture."

The President's gaze hardened sternly. She heaved out a long breath, pinched the bridge of her nose. "You will have to turn a blind eye to that fact. I'm sure your sidekicks can be stationed there while you're gone. Right now, we need you up in Honshu. A few people have been appearing at random and we have reason to believe it has to do with Yamaguchi's Quirk. Luckily, the media hasn't caught wind of these events due to our efforts. We've kept things under wraps, and hope to work closely with them."

Work closely with them? Who was them? If there ever was something happening, Hawks always had at least a clue as to what it was. He was smart like that, sharp. His mind spun for answers and clues that refused to come. What had he missed? What had he not seen?

The President opened a case file, shuffling the manila folder. "Recently, a new threat has made himself apparent. We have reason to believe he has appeared through Yamaguchi's 'Time Travel' Quirk. The others, who are not associated with that man, have reached out to form a mutual alliance sporadically over the course of this month. Find Yamaguchi and bring him to the HPSC, I know his Quirk will be of great use. We made a couple blunders throughout the year--"

A 'couple' was much too optimistic, in Hawks' opinion.

"--and for that reason, hope to find insight with his Quirk. We could avoid past mistakes, and therefore, retain balance among both the people and the heroes." The President shuffled a stack of papers again, a really bad habit that made Hawk's brow twitch in irritation. "You're dismissed. Remember, your task is your top priority no matter the circumstance. I expect a report in two week's time."

Hawks bowed respectfully and took his leave. The door shut quietly behind him with a low click. Florescent lights glowed overhead, unnaturally bright against the darkness reflecting through the building's large windows. The city lights seemed to drown out the beauty of the night sky, a luxury he missed in the rare days he was alone.

And as he waited for the elevator impatiently, a bad taste filled his mouth with frustration.

---

Hawks met the glow of (Y/n)'s icy gaze, breath hitching. Geez, she looked really scary for some fifteen year old. "Currently, I can't disclose what my assignment is. It could put you at big risks I don't want to take."

Big risks? (Y/n) almost wanted to laugh. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, threw off the sheets with a cold glare. "If we're to have a deal, I want to know what I'm getting myself into. For all I know, you could be lying to me right this moment. How do I know you won't double-cross me? How do I know you're not here to use me?"

All Hawks could do was rub the back of his head awkwardly. This girl was a tough customer, he'd give her that. He thought for a moment, ran a whole essay of scenarios through his head. "Okay, how about this? Today is October second and U.A.'s entrance exam is in February, so you have...four months. In that time, if I'm able to gather enough info on my mission for a case file, I'll answer one question."

(Y/n) raised a brow. "One question?"

"Yes." Hawks ran a hand over his unruly hair, heaving out a long sigh. "That's the most I can do without getting in trouble. I know it's unfair to you, but if you know too much, you could be targeted and assassinated for all I know. If not, the HPSC will take over your literal life. I can't let them do that to you. Not when you actually have a chance at something better."

(Y/n) studied him intensely, gaze hard and icy. She watched the way Hawks fidgeted under her gaze, tapped a foot impatiently to the tiled floor, and knitted his thick brows tightly. He was telling the truth--she sensed it deep in her heart. All he wanted, for whatever reason, was to make a change in a life he could not completely control.

As if he hoped not to repeat a doomed fate of the past.

It was odd, still, to have someone offer up a proposal so quickly. Because again, that same question lingered in the back of (Y/n)'s mind, one she could not quite answer herself. "What more is in this for you? What part do you play after I am accepted into U.A.?"

"I'll watch over you as best as I can." Hawks dutifully answered. "Obviously, I can't be there all the time since I work down in Kyushu, but we'll keep in touch." He heaved in a long breath tiredly, as if he hadn't slept in a while. "I don't want to make empty promises, but I don't want you to give up your future either. Will you accept my proposal?"

(Y/n) stood, knees threatening to buckle as she gripped the bed's handles tight. This would either be the stupidest decision of her life, or the best. Her hands, dyed and stained in red, could never be cleansed. How could she hope to ever be a hero, even if for her own security?

"Alright." she pursed her lips into a thin line. "I accept your proposal."

A moment of awkward silence fell over the room. Now that both of them thought of it, that sounded like a very inappropriate question. Hawks pursed his lips with a sharp intake of breath. "Yikes, I really hope no one heard that. Out of context that sounds really bad."

(Y/n) felt a spark of warmth in her chest. As quickly as it came, it died out, fizzled to a numb cold. "Yeah, I agree."

The next day, Tsukauchi came back as promised. He brought a notepad with him again, along with something wrapped in a thin (colour) cloth. The moment he set the long object down, (Y/n)'s eyes widened in surprise.

"My katana," she breathlessly said. "You brought it back." Tsukauchi removed his tan hat and set down his coat on the back of a chair. "It took a bit of paperwork and some strings to pull, but I knew you treasured it greatly and wanted to return it to you. Keep the registration card on you at all times, and also don't haul it around in the open. You could be arrested."

(Y/n) bowed her head deeply as best as she could. To think he had kept his word, not just in coming back, but in returning her katana safely. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The questions began once again in a round-about circle of who, what, when, how, and why. (Y/n) answered them all to the best of her ability, and by the end of it, Tsukauchi asked if she wanted to contact her family. That last one surprised her. After making all those painful memories resurface, how could he save the most important one for last?

Tsukauchi handed (Y/n) his phone.

When was the last time she held an actual phone? The thin object was much lighter than she remembered despite its large display screen. It could have been an iPad with how big the it was, but she didn't comment on that. "I'll make this quick, thank you for allowing me to use your phone, Tsukauchi-san."

"Of course." He offered a smile. "I'll be outside to give you some privacy." Once Tsukauchi left, (Y/n) opened up the keypad. Her fingers trembled as she dialed the familiar number, one Kai had drilled into her head since she was seven. He had always complained, always mentioned how important communication was (especially in the face of danger).

Beep.

Blood rushed in (Y/n)'s ears. She felt her pulse quicken.

Beeeep.

Would Kai be mad? Sad? Frustrated? It had been four years, anger didn't seem off the mark.

Beeeeeeeep.

Was he not around or did he just not want to pick up his phone? No, that wasn't plausible. Kai always picked up his phone since he only ever handed it out to those most trusted to him. Even spam callers couldn't get a hold of his number.

Beeeeeeeeeep!

"Hello?" demanded a gruff voice. "Who is this?"

(Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat. After four whole years of believing she would never hear him again, much less meet him in this life, he was here by a simple phone call away. "Nii-chan," --(Y/n)'s heart thundered in her chest-- "it's me."

Hawks: Do you accept my proposal?
You: Yes
The nurses outside waiting to check your vitals: He's twenty something???

Modern Era Secrets!

-Kai nearly dropped his phone. If Hari weren't on the couch in his office sorting lab files, he would have lost his composure completely.
-Kai has not cried since (Y/n)'s disappearance.
-Hawks hopes he and (Y/n) can be good friends, but her stare is slightly unnerving. After hearing her story, he can understand why her eyes reflect those of a killer's.
-Tsukauchi was flooded with paperwork for the past two days in order to keep unwanted eyes from taking over (Y/n)'s case. He wants to make sure she isn't taken advantage of and thrown into a bad situation.
-The President of HPSC is unaware of (Y/n)'s existence. She is bound to find out soon, though! Better stay on your toes.
-Kai is five years older than (Y/n)
-Hari is four years older than (Y/n)

Chapter Text

'I wish that I could wake up with amnesia
And forget about the stupid little things
Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you
And the memories I never can escape...'
-Amnesia, One Direction

The phone call was a funeral procession. (Y/n) spoke numbly, those golden eyes dead-set on the ugly pale walls as she spoke word after word into the device. She should have been happy. Unlike her friends, all dead and gone with time, she had another chance to be with her family.

Ice filled (Y/n)'s veins. Her lips moved, the sound never reaching her ringing ears. To speak to the people she thought she would never see again, to hear their voices, to know they were okay and on their way through rain or shine--it should have been so reassuringly right, so wholeheartedly warm.

But it wasn't. Because this fate was crudely, horribly unfair.

The phone call ended with the promise of Kai's appearance. Tsukauchi soon entered the room, door clicking shut behind him. "How did it go, if you don't mind me asking?" (Y/n) shrugged and handed him the phone with a 'thanks'. "My brother said he will be here by the end of the day despite there being strict order against visitors. He will not change his mind."

The icy notes didn't go unnoticed by Tsukauchi. He smiled reassuringly and took a seat by the bedside, unbothered as the blue skies of day. "Is that so? I guess we'll have to be ready for that. I think he deserves to see you, so don't worry about it, I'll sort out the situation so he can come without problem."

The warm rays of sun filtering through the open window tickled (Y/n)'s cold palms. She basked in it, heaving out a short sigh with a nod. In all honesty, she wasn't sure she wanted to see her brother. How could she face him after disappearing for four years?

"Are you nervous?"

(Y/n) eyed the way Tsukauchi fiddled with the worn fabric of his hat, gaze never rising. With his honest heart, she couldn't find it in herself to lie straight to his face. "I can't say I am entirely happy with this outcome. I thought I was going to die for good," --she glared down at the bandages spanning over her aching limbs-- "my friends received only the arms of death. What makes it alright for me to live?"

That was not a question Tsukauchi could answer. He was just a police officer, not some philosopher or scholar of the olden age. But that was fine--(Y/n) already knew the answers. She always did because she had to...

...to survive.

"I was never a good person and never will be. But my friends?" She slowly lifted her gaze, golden eyes blank as a sheet of paper. They shone like gems in the sunlight. Lost treasures to the passing world. "I know they deserve the world." A gentle breeze whistled through the window, ruffling her dark locks. She turned on her pillow to watch the birds flutter by, wondering if Kanao and Nezuko would have liked to go bird watching.

A comfortable quiet fell over the room where both participants mulled in their own minds. What could have been worse than an early death? Disease? A slow, torturous end? No, the answer was far from that. Too clear in (Y/n)'s mind.

Life. Ironically the answer was life. In a world where everyone she knew was dead and gone, suffering was her forever companion. Of course, if Kyojurou were here, he would tell (Y/n) to hold her head up high and grit her teeth. Set your heart ablaze! he would shout. Set your heart ablaze!

That fire long died in (Y/n)'s chest. Its warmth, so full and bright fizzled out into an icy wasteland. She felt it in her bones, this emptiness, a sinking, bottomless pit of pure nothingness.

Tsukauchi suddenly stood and pulled on his hat. He stared at the afternoon sunshine leaking through the window, somewhere far, far away from this ugly hospital room.

"If your friends really cared about you, they'd want you to live." He buttoned up his coat to head into the autumn winds outside. "In my line of work, I've had a few close friends go missing. One even died before my eyes. It happens so quick that they don't even have a chance to say their last words." He quickly paused, kind eyes soft with earnest. "I'm...sure you'd understand that more than anyone."

The lull of Tsukauchi's quiet footsteps echoed against the pale walls. He made his way to the door, frowning deep in thought. "It's best you think on it, I know a lot's happened to you this past week. Anyway, I hope you recover soon (Y/n)-kun. Thank you for being honest with me, and thank you for trusting me." He stepped out with a tilt of his head and carefully shut the door behind. It clicked in place.

Thoughts of those she once loved clouded (Y/n)'s mind like rain. She gripped the sheets tight, ran a hand through her hair with a grit of her teeth. If all her dead friends (family) were still here, they'd whip her mind back into shape with exactly what Tsukauchi failed to explicitly state.

Live.

But how was such a feat possible? How when (Y/n) was chosen over her friends? They were much kinder, much brighter than her, with hearts of gold that could outshine the sun. What made her luckier to survive?

An hour could have passed as those thoughts stewed in her pounding mind. Maybe it was two, even three. When the sun had reached its peak in the sky, a knock sounded at the door. Who was it this time? A nurse to inject her arms with some sort of medication? Maybe the Cafe lady who served awfully bland food (who (Y/n) discarded until Hawks showed up with takeaway)?

An odd warmth flooded into the air. With it came a heavy sort of love, protective like a weighted blanket on a cold evening. In its wake was a subtle chill, one that made (Y/n)'s hair stand on end. She shivered, rubbed at her bandaged arms.

The door opened with a low creak. Sharp steps echoed against the tile flooring, tense and frantic. (Y/n) didn't mean to sit up so fast. It was as if all her worries had been washed away, thrown aside for the blessing before her. Names fell from her lips that couldn't have been more impossible than not.

"Kai," she stumbled out of bed, "Hari...!" Cold tile met (Y/n)'s bare feet as she sprang forward. In one fell swoop, she tackled both men to the ground, tears springing from the corners of her eyes. She squeezed their cheeks, pinched their noses. "You're real right? I'm not dreaming, right?"

The strangled grunt escaping Kai's lips served as a good enough answer. He tentatively hooked his arms under (Y/n)'s waist and hauled her up. "Don't do that next time, don't you know how filthy the floor is? And why would you be dreaming? You were the one who called me earlier." He dusted them both off with gloved hands before shaking his head like he always did (with that annoyed-yet-not-annoyed-enough-to-be-angry sigh). That was just like him.

But...now that (Y/n) stood before Hari and Kai, she couldn't help but feel unsettled. Death had been her best friend in the line of work as a Demon Slayer, and that dark chill hung in her aura like glue. There was no ridding herself of it unless she went to a shrine.

Now there was Kai and Hari. They did not condemn such darkness. Instead, they soaked in its evil, basked in its arms. As if...as if death were more than normal, but rather, a necessity.

Every Slayer (Y/n) ever encountered held this same aura, yet it was never truly evil. Sure, some took out their anger on demons for killing their loved ones, but it was never enough to make shivers crawl down anyone's spines. Not like demons, or those of the Upper Ranks and the evil Progenitor himself.

Kai placed a hand at his hip, golden eyes calculatingly sharp. "What happened to you, (Y/n)?" His voice had grown significantly sterner with a disinterested sort of drawl. It made her wonder if she was wasting his time by making him drive all the way to Musutafu. The tears pricking her eyes had long dried, and it gave her a moment's clarity to assess her situation.

The better question: What happened to them?

Hari and Kai's getups couldn't have been odd, edgy fashion trends. The media simply did not keep up with such a mix of geeky, cringey, mafia inspired clothing. Come on, plague masks? Gloves? Hari's dull grey raincoat (that hid his beautiful lilac hair)? There had to be some reason behind their fashion choices, not because they rolled out of bed deciding to look like they were heading to a convention for Yakuza eccentrics.

Kai sighed lowly and removed one of his gloves. With a tap to her wrist, the dull pain in her limbs faded, along with the aching in her fractured bones she refused to acknowledge.

"Thanks, Nii-chan." she lamely muttered. "I...I'm..."

Speechless. Yes, what else was there besides that? Years of wondering when she could see, meet, or even touch her family led to this very moment. This very second. Joy did not fill (Y/n)'s soul as she tried for a small smile. Nor did it match the small bit of happiness bursting moments ago.

The cool breeze of autumn melded with the emptiness in (Y/n)'s heart. "I'm sorry I've been gone for so long," she took a seat at the edge of the bed and began unraveling the bandages, "it must have been hard for you both. You must have felt guilty for my disappearance."

An awkward silence fell over the room. The girl who used to smile so sweetly had been chased away by whoever sat in her place. She was now battle hardened--matured beyond her years--and that made Hari's heart ache. He glanced at Kai, then back at (Y/n) who stared regretfully at her hands.

The silence kept stretching, kept growing like the rift between the three people in the room. Hari pursed his lips tight, jaw tensing. Someone had to say something, anything, before he couldn't take it anymore. Before he snapped. Because, truly, truly, after all these years, he didn't understand how a person could change so quickly.

Why wasn't Kai saying anything to her? This was his younger sister who probably went through hell and back to get here. A simple 'it's not your fault' or 'I missed you' would have sufficed. It was what Kai would have done four years ago. Four years before (Y/n) disappeared. So why wasn't he doing it now? Time may have drawn out long, but never did it twist who Kai should be in this very second.

Hari took a step forward. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a pair of scissors, threading it through his fingers. "Here, I'll help you. It's easier with these." He tried for a smile under his mask, but then (Y/n) looked up and it vanished from his lips.

The dark circles under her eyes looked like brutal bruises. Accompanied by a wry smile came the weight of entire worlds, the weight of a burden one could never produce in words. Hari's breath caught in his throat. "You look like you haven't slept in four days."

A stale chuckle escaped (Y/n)'s lips, one that probably shouldn't have. "Thanks," she held out her bandaged legs, "I can't say I've slept well in this forsaken room. Hospitals are entirely depressing."

The half-hearted joke flew over everyone's heads like a leaf to the wind. Kai shifted from foot to foot, a fist clenched tight at his side. Sounds of screeching tires, the stench of blood staining his cold fingers red. That nightmarish morning replayed over, and over, like that broken record Oyaji tried to fix in his youth.

"It's been quiet without you." Hari said, running the scissors in a near perfect line. "We're glad to know you're back, especially since we kept your room clean all these years."

That was only ever in hopes (Y/n) could return if the Quirk that sent her somewhere had a time limit. It was a stupid hunch, one built on hope Kai refused to acknowledge. But his painful waiting had paid off. It had been worth the worry, the bitterness, the overflowing anger that made his blood boil in pure unbridled rage--

"Nii-chan." (Y/n) rolled up the bandages and placed them on the bedside table. "I'm sorry." She turned to look up at those eyes the same golden shine as hers (sharp, solemn). Was this same man her brother? The same one she spent those winters crammed in the corner of some dirty alleyway?

Long-awaited apologies sat in the back of Kai's throat. He studied her face as if she would disappear again, as if she should vanish into thin air like the day of that damn, forsaken car crash. "Why are you sorry?" Stupid, stupid. Was that the only thing he could utter? "Why are you apologising to me?"

Pain beyond (Y/n)'s years clouded her golden eyes like grains of sand. They flew by, bits and pieces of a past that left her heart forever scarred. She couldn't begin to explain why she was sorry, or why she kept apologising when Akaza told her not to.

I'm sorry did not explain the guilt of moving on from her family.

I'm sorry did not explain the fault of making a deal with some Hero.

I'm sorry did not explain the blood-stained hands--the screams, the sounds of cutting flesh and driving a blade through a demon's neck.

Kai patiently waited for an answer, those eyes the same gold never leaving (Y/n)'s own. She had to look away from its intensity, its reminder of the cold chills trailing down her back. "You both must have blamed yourselves," she said, staring at her lap. "I heard that Nii-chan sued someone for a lot of money. That's good to know."

A dry laugh ran past her lips. Cold, mirthless. "You both look so much different from how I remember. It's only been four years." She finally met Kai's burning gaze, eyes tired and dead. "Where's Oyaji?"

Hari seemed to stiffen. "The Old Boss isn't feeling well." he stated. "You can see him when you get home." The fast reply made (Y/n)'s brows draw together. Not feeling well? Maybe the issue was out of control, else Kai would have found a way to fix it. (Y/n) nodded slowly, a small 'okay' leaving her lips.

Kai tentatively placed a hand on her head, ruffling her hair. "We'll be back tomorrow to get you discharged." He looked her up and down, studied the subtle way her lips pursed tight. "Don't worry yourself to sleep, it would be a pain if you ended up getting sick." Kai turned to the door, only to pause and stride back over to the bed. He motioned for (Y/n) to lay back down and she complied, watching as he pulled the sheets over her with those gloved hands.

"Get some sleep." Kai couldn't quite meet her eyes. "Chrono's right, you look like you haven't slept in days." The last thing (Y/n) heard as she stared at the ceiling was the click of the door closing in place. She squeezed her eyes tight, gently tapped her cheeks to wake her mind.

Then it hit her. Chrono. Since when did Kai call Hari 'Chrono'?

The lingering unease in her heart grew into a bitter taste.

---

"Now that's a surprise."

This couldn't have been worse timing. Meeting Hari and Kai only an hour and a half ago left (Y/n)'s mind an absolute trainwreck. She refused to sleep despite her brother's scolding, and instead stared out the window where orange and red leaves fell from the courtyard's trees.

Then Hawks showed up, and he refused to let silence fall over the room. It seemed his Quirk held true, he chirped exactly like the annoying robins outside.

"I didn't think you'd end up calling your brother so soon," Hawks added. "And with Tsukauchi-san instead of me, no less." He let out a low whistle, gaze bouncing to the ceiling. "Somehow, you don't look very happy about their visit, (Y/n)."

She shrugged and leaned back against the headboard. The old mattress creaked loudly and she sighed in irritation. "How would you know that? Don't tell me your Quirk comes with a freakishly good sense of smell."

Warm rays of autumn light tickled Hawks's cheeks as he laughed youthfully. "No, but my wings can feel vibrations in the air. It widens my range, and each feather can be manipulated freely." He opened a bag and pulled out two plastic boxes. Fragrant aromatics filled the air, a mix of rich sauces and savoury vegetables. Hopefully the nurses didn't notice. "Anyway, guess what I got?"

"Yakitori?"

Hawks imitated the sound of a buzzer and turned his thumb upside down. A breeze fluttered through the window, giving his blond locks a good ruffle. "Nope," he said, grinning. "Try again." (Y/n) wracked her brain. The last time Hawks brought lunch (a day ago), he had a generally balanced meal of the usual grains, vegetables, and proteins with a side of street food. The other times, he brought noodles, soups, or Korean food.

There was one pattern that he seemed to never break. Every two days, he had to include yakitori. It didn't matter if he brought soup, dessert, or a homemade meal from the old Korean lady's store. To not have Yakitori on this terribly dreary afternoon?

Scandalous.

"Udon?" (Y/n) inquired.

"Wrong again."

"...dango?"

"That's dessert, I brought lunch, Little Birdie."

(Y/n) shook her head. "I really don't know."

Thankfully, Hawks ended his little game with another grin. He handed her the box and opened it to reveal (f/f). The beautiful array of beloved foods made (Y/n)'s mouth water."I wouldn't have guessed this on my own. That was an unfair question."

Hawks shoveled some food into his mouth, the smile on his lips contagious. "That's the point, it's a game for a reason."

(Y/n) stared at her own food, passive expression softening. She began to eat, savouring the flavours she hadn't realised she missed. In a perfect world, maybe her friends could have been by her side enjoying the beauty of peace. Contentment.

"Thank you for lunch today." she quietly said. Hawks smiled and continued to eat.

A pit grew in (Y/n)'s stomach, gravitating towards the Earth as she slowly set down her chopsticks, appetite fading with the cool breeze. She glanced at Hawks, whose gaze was set on her face. "You want to say something." she noted. "What is it?"

Something between a laugh and a chuckle escaped Hawks's lips. "Do I? Or do you? You keep staring off into space like that'll answer all your questions. If it's your brother you're worried about, then I can't say it's not without reason." The cryptic comment made (Y/n)'s lips purse into a thin line. She turned to face him, golden eyes sharp and calculating. "You know something."

Hawks shrugged and chewed on his meal. "I heard that your brother took over the Shie Hassaikai because your Oyaji got sick. There was a rumour though, some say it had to do with a bigger issue, whatever that means. You'd probably have more luck figuring that out than me."

Rumour? 'Heard'? Wasn't it odd from the start how Hari and Kai donned those odd outfits? And the masks, the gloves, Oyaji being 'sick'. None of it made sense, and it wasn't going to for as long as (Y/n) refused to ask Kai. A part of her shrunk away at the thought of suspecting him of foul play--he was her only brother, for crying out loud--but who else was there to blame?

Who else shady enough to do so?

The frown permeating (Y/n)'s lips sent a winter chill through the room. "Hawks," she grimly met his gaze, "is it possible to obtain a file on a man by the name Yaoyorozu Ichiro?" The glare of sun against her liquid golden eyes seemed to make them illuminate unnaturally bright. It was as if she were ready to pounce as a hunter to its prey.

Hawks stiffened, grip tightening around his chopsticks. "Why do you ask?" That glint in (Y/n)'s eyes struck a chord deep within, a familiar sort of nostalgia he glared into every chance he passed a mirror. "That's not someone you can just visit because you want to. He's got a multi-million dollar business."

One look shut Hawks up. He made a dramatic motion of zipping his lips and (Y/n) smiled ominously. "Well, that's only if he doesn't owe you a favour or two." There was a scorching fire in her hollow eyes. "My Oyaji was friends with him for quite some time, and it just so happened that I one day saved the man's life. He'd understand if I need to schedule a talk over tea."

Chisaki (Y/n). Hawks knew the moment he scooped her up from that busy intersection, blood soaking against his coat, that she was far from an ordinary girl. But to think her confidence, her self-assured sense of authority, and her quick-witted thinking would form her very being?

Hawks wondered if he could have been the same if he had more backbone growing up. "Where exactly are you going with this? I can't have you doing anything reckless when the HPSC could instantly have you on their radar. They know everyone and everything and will send someone after you."

(Y/n) took a bite of her food with a nonchalant nod. "That's true," --a rush of determination filled her veins-- "but the President has yet to read that report on my case. I am willing to bet the most she saw was some TikTok of me appearing out of nowhere. We can therefore assume that she's busy with other duties and has yet to figure out exactly what to do with me."

She thought for a moment, heaving out a low sigh. This is nothing, she reminded. Secrets were normal in the Yakuza. It might have slipped her mind during her time in the Corps, but her mind still recalled. "I have to use what I can to my advantage to gather information. My brother won't tell me anything, and Hari's too scared to pitch anything in."

A lump formed in (Y/n)'s throat, an itch she could not clear. "You asked about why I didn't look happy about them visiting," her lips pressed into a tight, thin line, "well, when you imagine a day that you've dreamt up for so long, you think of joy and happiness." She shook her head, a world of hurt clouding her golden eyes. "All I felt was this everlasting sense of dread. As if something bad were to happen."

Hawks frowned. "You don't trust them."

Bitterness flickered on (Y/n)'s face, "I suppose a lot changes in the course of four years. Now, about that file?"

---

As promised, the next day, Kai returned with Hari in tow. It was an odd sight, really, to see the two childhood friends standing so distantly. The nurses visited to do a single checkup before handing over (Y/n)'s uniform (that had been washed repeatedly) and katana wrapped neatly in (f/c) cloth.

She was quick to change into the uniform. She missed the strength of the fabric against her skin, the painstaking process of buttoning the top and tightening the belt just right. The last thing she was missing was her haori. It sat in her healed hands, heavier than twenty bags of rice.

The snowflake pattern danced across the surface, a beautiful array of grays and indigos. (Y/n) recalled the gentle hands that gifted her the haori, the loving smile across the boy's lips.

"I saw this and thought of you," Akaza had said. "Do you like it?"

Tears burned in the corners of (Y/n)'s eyes, droplets that reflected against the florescent bathroom lights. The mirror glared back at her, where a disheveled girl stood upon its surface. Her golden eyes were dull and weary, where dark circles bruised underneath by pale, hollow cheeks.

This...was this really her? A whole week and two days spent in the hospital reduced the Ice Hashira to some hobo-looking-shut-in? If Shinazugawa and Iguro were here, they wouldn't ever allow her to live this down. Not since she was a Hashira, a supposed pillar of the Corps.

How ridiculous.

(Y/n) smoothed out her matted hair with a brush of her fingers, muttering a few complaints every few seconds. She imagined what Mitsuri would say in this situation ("It's always better when you take a day off to care for yourself than to not at all!"), or Shinobu with that passive-aggressive chiding of hers ("You'll end up back at my estate again at this rate. Please, your health is extremely important. We wouldn't want you to drop dead, now would we?").

And most importantly: Kyojurou. The thought of his dying moments made her heart ache. The smile upon his lips, the will he left behind, the promise he made her bear. (Y/n) heaved out a shaky breath and splashed water over her face. Quickly, she wiped the cool droplets with a paper towel and tossed it into the rubbish bin before exiting.

Tsukauchi was right, if her friends were all here, they would force her to keep moving forward. It was all anyone in the Demon Slayer Corps ever knew. Ever lived for. And until Hawks revealed his true motives, that was her only option.

The ride home was spent in the back of an old BMW in complete silence. Hari drove while Kai sat in the passenger seat. His gaze never left the rear-view mirror, those clinically detached eyes boring into (Y/n)'s reflection. She elected to ignore his staring and instead pulled her haori tighter, leaned towards the window further.

Halfway through the ride, he was getting under her skin.

"What is it?" (Y/n) finally inquired with an uncomfortable frown. "You're both so quiet it's scaring me." Kai's gaze remained on her reflection. "The same goes for you. You've changed."

"A lot happens in four years."

"A lot you haven't told us." Kai retorted with a narrow of his sharp gaze. "I was going to question the detective who worked on your case, but I wanted to hear it from you."

A long silence followed, a prompt for (Y/n) to start speaking. Her numb eyes flickered over to his before focusing back on the swaying trees. They had all changed colour, some bare of their beautiful leaves. "A lot happened," she vaguely muttered. "Nothing to concern yourself with right now."

Cue a loud, annoyingly egotistic scoff. Kai folded his arms across his chest, splaying out a hand as he spoke. "'A lot' doesn't explain the katana and four years of disappearance." He turned to wryly meet (Y/n)'s gaze from the backseat. "Did you kill the man who sent you to the past? Or did he run off before you were able to make him bring you back? I can't understand your situation if you don't give me context."

What was there to understand? (Y/n)'s head swarmed with questions, many of which Kai himself obviously wouldn't be answering anytime soon. He was being a hypocrite. Why ask for answers if he wasn't planning on giving one himself? It was like he wanted to back her into a corner, cage her in until he pried open her very mind.

A sour frown fell upon (Y/n)'s lips. She heaved out a long huff, matching Kai's intensity with an equally dry stare. "If Oyaji were here, you wouldn't be interrogating me. And it's not like you've offered any answers, either. I suggest you start talking if you're looking for my sob-story, it would do you worlds of good anyway in wiping off that stupid look on your face."

It was as if a shot had been fired. For a long, hard minute, Kai did not blink, move, or breathe. He sat completely still, frozen in time as the gears turned in his head.

(Y/n) began to wonder if he'd snap and bite her head off. Kai's patience had obviously thinned in these two days; he didn't have the capacity to take her cheeky comments (even if it was his job, as an elder brother). Maybe that last jab was too harsh. Too much teeth. She should have kept her mouth shut. Stayed quiet. Kai was probably just as hurt as she, it was time she give him slack, rest on his case. Anything to keep him from absolutely breaking into a childish fit--

Kai closed his eyes and (Y/n) thought she might go into cardiac arrest. Blood roared in her ears, heart hammering in her rib cage. This burst of anxiousness made her stomach churn uncomfortably. Was she just nervous about what he'd say? Or if he'd blame her for her disappearance?

A low sigh met (Y/n)'s ears and she eased. The relief settling over Kai's expression, the softness in his gaze. He wasn't angry, no, no, far from it.

"That sounds more like you, witty and extremely troublesome." He spoke as though he were on a different plane of existence, falling through a net of memories only known to yesterday. A faint shine in his eyes glimmered through the orange rays of light. "Tell me what happened whenever you're ready. I don't want to push you into speaking about it if it bothers you that much."

(Y/n)'s heart hammered in her chest, a continuous sprint she couldn't quite calm. She leaned her head back against the car seat, gaze focused on the falling leaves outside. "Okay." The lull of the car came as the song of a lullaby. She listened to the low rumble of the engine, eyes fluttering open and shut. The world of dreams dragged her into its darkness.

Chrono glanced through the rear view mirror, brows knitted tightly under his mask. "I thought she'd never fall asleep," he said with a sigh. "She's changed so much, yet at the same time, she's still (Y/n)."

"Eyes on the road." Overhaul grumbled. "As anti-climatic as it is, this whole ordeal turned out to be an accident caused by circumstance. It's frustrating though. Why did that Yamaguchi guy have to show up and use his Quirk on that exact day? It could have been a Sunday instead, or even a Friday."

And that was exactly what left Kai so puzzled. These past four years were an absolute hell of intense studying, researching, and experimenting. He hadn't been idle, never was. He knew his duties, his ambitions, and it so happened that Yamaguchi set everything into action.

The Quirk 'Time Travel' became the catalyst to Project Zero--the creation of Quirk-erasing bullets.

Hari gave the wheel a turn, gaze flickering across the passing streets. "But like you said, wasn't it all just circumstance?" he inquired. "Anyone could say we were all in the wrong place at the wrong time." The irritation permeating Kai's face served as an answer. He meant more to his comment, more than he was willing to explicitly say.

"Chrono," Overhaul sharply turned to face him, "think harder. You're supposed to be my right hand. What could cause a circumstance for Yamaguchi to speed down a school zone?"

Chrono wracked his brain, digging deep into that fateful day that sent his heart in a pained spiral. Cries rang in his ears, a haunting sound that forever kept him up late in the evening.

"Before the first responders came, there was a hero." He swallowed the lump in his throat, pushed back the nightmarish scene in static white. "A teenager about our age showed up out of nowhere. He had a mutant Quirk, red wings." Overhaul nodded in approval, those golden eyes burning holes into the rear-view mirror. "Remind me of the Number Three Hero."

"Hawks, I think. Rappa said he's become popular, but not exactly for strength." The dots, so close, yet so far, began connecting like a string, tying each memory into one. Hari frowned, grip tightening on the steering. "Are you saying that Hawks was after Yamaguchi and (Y/n) just so happened to be caught up in the consequence?"

Overhaul's gloved hands curled into fists, the low rumble of the car whirling through the persisting silence. He thought for a moment, retraced his steps back to the lonely nights shut up in his (Oyaji's) office. "They're all sick, every last one of them." he said with a grimace.

A lump formed in Chrono's throat as he parked the old BMW, knuckles white. "What do you plan to do?"

Kai tapped a finger to his arm in thought. He glanced at the katana hugged close to (Y/n)'s side, then the uniform and the haori. An old story came to mind, one Oyaji used to tell when he was only a boy. The book sat in the office now, spine worn from repetitive use.

It seemed this issue was bound to grow like bacteria in warmth. Kai opened the backseat car, placed a hand to (Y/n)'s shoulder. "Wake up." He lightly shook her. "You can sleep once you've showered."

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open, gaze flickering across Kai's passive face, then to the sight of the compound in front of the car. Her fingers curled around the katana as she climbed out, rubbing at her eyes. Home. This had once been home.

The word stuck in the back of (Y/n)'s throat like glue, Gentle embraces tickled her side as she made her way to the front steps, a ghost of a touch on her cheek, a phantom kiss to her forehead.

"I will miss you dearly once dawn arrives." Akaza once said. "It pains me to leave, (Y/n)."

And she would stand there in a forgotten field in a forgotten village, arms wrapped tight around his as they swayed with the very breeze of night. If only she could. Its chill was a warm comfort, a reminder of what could be in that very second. She wished with her whole being to go back to that time, for she should have died then, fallen to the arms of Death in peace. Retribution for her sins.

Kai's firm hand planted on (Y/n)'s shoulder. Her thoughts burst as she stepped inside, a shiver running down her spine. The china vase of camellias and spider lilies had vanished from the table in the hall. Fake flowers took its place, a dull mix of plastic daisies and chrysanthemums to fill the empty space.

She removed her shoes, toes cramped and stiff. Along the left wall hung various acrylic and watercolour paintings, framed in impeccably clean frames. A grimace rose to (Y/n)'s face, distaste on her lip as she fiddled with the fabric wrapped tight around her blade. Why did Oyaji keep those old things?

Those paintings could not compare to the sheer grace and beauty of the art she created by Akaza's side. They could not compare to the emotion behind each stroke, the very essence filling each line.

A sharp pain stabbed (Y/n)'s chest. She quickly turned away, feet leading her towards her room down the hall. It was the same as she remembered, same walls, same desk, same window where the bare sakura tree stood tall in the cool breeze. Rays of orange and gold fell from the sky, droplets that could have been shooting stars.

It was a lovely sight. Peaceful even.

So what was it missing? What was here yet not there all the same? (Y/n) curled her toes inward, feeling the tatami dig into her skin through the holes in her socks. Home was such a funny word, she thought.

"Where's Oyaji?" The question hung heavy in the chilly air as she set her katana down on the desk. "You said he was sick, but how sick did you mean?" Kai took a step further through the threshold, arms folded tight across his chest. "Oyaji is sleeping. You can see him after dinner."

Hari glanced at Kai. That single look through his mask spoke of secrets in silence, of words that could not be heard by ear. If they were hiding something, they weren't doing a good job at it. Even Tanjiro, a boy who couldn't lie to save his life, could figure out a better way to communicate in secret.

(Y/n) sighed to herself and rummaged through the closet (she picked out a baggy pair of trousers and an oversized shirt) to wear. She bundled them close to her chest and brushed past the two boys, a sour glare crossing her face. "I'm going to shower." she announced. "I'll be done in twenty minutes."

Water echoed against the tiled walls, a constant lullaby to (Y/n)'s jumbled thoughts. She thought back to yesterday's lunch with Hawks, her arrangement to speak with Yaororozu-san, and the unsaid that left her mind running in circles.

Hawks frowned. "You don't trust them."

It hurt to think about, to even consider. How much more would (Y/n) lose before she wouldn't have to spend her every waking moment fighting for her life? The only way to live was through survival, but if it meant turning her back to even Kai and Hari, was it worth such risk? Such chance to doubt them?

They were still family after all this time. Still the same two boys she grew up with at heart. Yet this darkness, this heavy aura that sat in the air, made her skin crawl in disgust.

(Y/n) quickly finished up her nightly routine and shut off the water.

Dinner came with a heavy silence. The sizzle of the stove spoke instead, scents of soy sauce and miso filling the air. Once Kai was finished cooking, (Y/n) handed him two bowls. They sat down at the table together, where two empty seats sat across in the overhead lights.

Hari had gone to bed early, according to Kai. As for Oyaji, he was in his room.

(Y/n) picked up her chopsticks with an 'itadakimasu'. The hot rice mixed with the soft meat and savory vegetables made her eyes water. It was a simple meal, eaten during those nights where she couldn't figure out what to cook. Akaza used to help chop the vegetables, or mix the sauces. His radiant smile so gentle and affectionate always made her heart beat a little quicker.

Akaza. Oh, if only he hadn't died.

Tears blurred (Y/n)'s vision. They slowly trailed down her cheeks, burned in the warm overhead lights illuminating each falling drop. Kai set down his mask, brows softly knitted together. "Did I cook it well?" His gentle voice made the cold tears fall harder. "I haven't made that in a while."

For 'a while', the food tasted exactly how (Y/n) remembered. She learned this specific recipe from Kai himself, who in turn, had learned from Oyaji. A watery 'yeah' left her lips as she sniffled, sipping on her steaming tea. "Good." Her shoulders shook with the hiccups that followed. "I-it's good."

(Y/n) miserably cried in the quiet of night, fingertips just barely holding on to the chopsticks in hand. She thought of the faces of her friends in their final moments, the weight of the blade in her hands as she took off the head a demon, the aching in her heart that refused to fade.

And then came that burning hatred. She couldn't find herself blaming anyone but herself. If only she had just died, then maybe, just maybe she could be at peace. Happy. Her veins boiled, flared with a fiery energy that left her body numb in scorching heat.

Kai's gaze flickered to (Y/n)'s, the gears shifting in his head. He studied the way her fists clenched and eased, the way she stared at her bowl as if it were both her salvation and damnation. The courage to speak left his lungs winded. He had no right to console (Y/n) after failing to be there for her when she needed it most. And now look. She carried a wound that he could never hope to heal.

"I'm sorry." Kai confessed. "For everything."

(Y/n) shook her head tearfully. Was he stupid? There was nothing to be sorry for no matter how responsible he felt. What happened was out of his control. The blame had to stay with her. She couldn't let him bear such burdens. Such deathly responsibility.

(Y/n) finished her meal, shoulders quacking with her numb fingers. Kai stood and offered a few tissues, to which she took with clumsy hands. "W-why are y-you apologsing t-to me?" she demanded. "It's my f-fault for ending up l-like this."

"No, it's not." Kai gave her shoulder a squeeze, lips pressed into a taunt line. "I can only blame myself for being unable to help you." (Y/n) shook her head again. No, she wanted to say, yet the words stuck deep in her throat as she drowned in her tears instead.

The rush left her tired body exhausted with the dying want to sleep. Forever. She eventually finished her meal.

Kai took her by the hand and led her back to her room as if she were a lost child. He fluffed up the futon, laid it flat on the tatami, and set up the pillows just how she liked it. "Get some rest soon. I'll be out in the morning, I should be back by noon. You can eat leftovers tomorrow. If you need something, Chrono will be here with you."

And that emptiness came back with the onslaught of tears. (Y/n) sniffled, vision blurred. She gave Kai's hand a squeeze, wishing that he didn't have those awfully rough gloves on. Her mind wandered to the warmth Akaza provided by a mere touch, a mere smile. His love was ever overflowing. A love she would never see again in this lifetime.

Kai's brows knitted and he looked torn between sighing loudly and giving (Y/n) a hug. He decided the latter would satisfy her qualms. "Don't cry," he rested her head on his shoulder, "you're home now."

But home did not have the warmth of Akaza's arms, or the joy whenever Senjuro greeted her, or the soothing voice of beloved Oyakata-sama, or Kyojurou's encouraging smiles.

The chilly air was all that greeted (Y/n) the next morning. Her sleep was void of dreams, void of what she wished could conjure up in the land of the unknown. Kai had gone already, just as he said. His room was empty and the office bare of life. Every so often, a member passed through, many of which (Y/n) couldn't recognise. She opted to ignore that in favour of dialing a number.

The landline phone sat on Oyaji's desk rang as she waited in patient silence. The bell rang once. Twice.

"Hello?"

"Hawks." (Y/n) raspily muttered. "Good morning." He made a sound on the other end, something of surprise. "You sound exhausted. Did you get sick?"

Sick of crying herself to sleep, maybe. But she didn't say that. "No, I'm fine. I wanted to know if you had anything interesting to say as of late? My meeting with Yaororozu-san is scheduled today in about an hour. I didn't expect to be discharged so quickly, so..."

"Oh, do you need a ride?" he chirped on the other end. "I can swing by in the next ten minutes, if you want."

There was a prick in (Y/n)'s neck as she glanced at the door. "Alright." She frowned, sighing irritably. "I'll see you soon. Bye." The line went dead and she placed the phone down. The familiar presence dug into her skin as she ripped open the door, golden eyes ice cold.

"Hari." He jumped five feet into the air. "What are you doing here?" The passive tone coating her voice made Hari tense. He eyed her carefully, brushed a lilac lock from his face. "I was just passing," he said with a swallow. "I wasn't eavesdropping."

(Y/n) clicked her tongue and shut the office door. She stabbed a finger at his chest, gaze boring holes into his ashen face. "Guilty conscience I see. If you weren't eavesdropping, then why admit that? Your presence is so loud I can almost hear it."

Sweat glistened on Hari's forehead. He ran his fingers along his nails, picking at the grainy skin from over-washing his hands. "I was just passing." Without his full-face mask, it was easy to interpret exactly what went on in that jumbled mind of his. Hari was never really great at lying to (Y/n)'s face, anyway. "I wanted to make sure you were doing okay since Kai left before you woke up."

Liar. It was obvious by the subtle twitch of his hands. (Y/n) internally made the ugliest face she could muster. Were they really going to play the pretend game? If so, she could do just as well to benefit her morning plans. "Is that so, Hari?" The dead stare of her golden hues made him want to flinch back in fear. "I was just passing by as well. I wanted to see if Oyaji was around, and the only place I haven't checked was his room. I might as well pay him a visit."

Hari stiffened as straight as a board. He shook his head, those beautiful lilac locks swishing by his pale cheeks. "No!" He slapped a hand to his lips with a huff, easing his voice. "I'm sure he's fine, okay? Just...what exactly were you doing? Who was that on the phone, a friend?"

Would Hawks be considered a friend? (Y/n) wasn't sure, even though he had been her company for the past week or so. She shrugged. "Maybe he is?" Hari's gaze narrowed worriedly. "A boy?" he inquired suspiciously. "Don't tell me he's your...your...."

(Y/n) folded her hands up into an 'x' shape with a firm shake of her head. "No." she stated. "He's just a friend. I told him I'd catch up today since he's been worried." Okay, this had to be the worst idea to ever grace planet Earth. (Y/n) didn't have friends besides one girl who was assaulted by her old math teacher (that was besides the point), and it wasn't like any of her actual friends were alive anymore. What exactly was she to say to suspicions that were a thousand percent correct?

Hari gave (Y/n) a long, hard stare. "You don't have friends."

The conclusion stabbed poor (Y/n) in the heart. She heaved out a low breath, shook her head to rid it of cobwebs. "Alright, you got me. He's not a friend, he's one of the investigators for my case." This had to be the most logical explanation she could muster without raising brows. "I told him I'd meet him today. I should be back before Kai even sets foot in the driveway."

Hari looked like he didn't know whether to be angry, surprised, or annoyed. He chose the latter, a tight frown pulling at his thin lips. "I'll get in trouble if you leave." he said, shaking his head. "What's so important that you have to report to the investigator?"

(Y/n) licked her chapped lips in thought. She could lie again, or just reveal her plans to Hari (her most trusted confident), but wouldn't it be unfair to pressure him to help her? Kai hadn't been in the best of moods yesterday. One small detail unpleasant to his needs could cause a river of conflict easily avoidable with one lie.

Yes, one lie couldn't hurt, could it? Just one more would do. Then, (Y/n) wouldn't have to keep anymore secrets from her loved ones.

"It's been difficult explaining my situation to the police," she said. "So I need to explain a few simple details before they'll leave me alone." Hari didn't look satisfied with this answer. He pursed his lips tighter, gripped the edge of his oversized raincoat in a vice grip. "I'll tell them off for you, (Y/n). There's no need to get involved with the police, we can handle this just fine."

Handle what? The fact that (Y/n) could potentially be thrown into the hands of the HPSC? She almost laughed at the thought. The Shie Hassaikai had always been a very small, no-name gang due to their lack of illegal accomplishments. There was no way any of them could take on a whole agency made especially for heroes. It was impossible.

(Y/n) shook her head. "I'll be back before noon, alright? Don't worry about me, Hari." He looked like he was about to say something, but before he opened his mouth, (Y/n) slipped from his view as if she were a mere trick of the light. She sprinted away from the compound, footsteps quiet as night.

The suburbs had always been a welcome quiet far from the hustle and bustle of the city. Cars rarely sped through these streets, save for the young bikers late for school, and it was always quite homey in the evenings. (Y/n) rounded a corner and passed one of the tall electric lines above. An old orange tabby used to pass by here. He probably died not too long ago.

(Y/n)'s fingertips tingled as she slowed to a stop. A gentle breeze whistled through her hair, thankfully contained by the thick (f/c) sweater hugging her skin. The heavy sound of flapping wings caught her ear, where a bright smile greeted her in the early morning sunshine.

"Good morning, Little Birdie!" Hawks greeted. "You looked like you were in a hurry. I almost missed you with how fast you were running." He landed with a light step, blond locks bobbing as he walked.

(Y/n) spared a quick glance behind her shoulder. Hari was nowhere to be seen, and she couldn't sense his loud presence so full of anxiousness either. She sighed lowly and adjusted the snowflake clip in her hair. "Protectiveness can be a weapon that overtakes one's life."

Hawks laughed in good nature. He had a nice air about him so full of a young liveliness she couldn't ever hope to possess. "I did a loop around the neighborhood before landing, there's no one around to follow you." The smile on his lips broke out into a grin. "So, how do you feel about flying?"

---

The cool morning air billowing through (Y/n)'s hair sent a rush through her veins. She kept her arms tightly wound around Hawks's neck, knuckles white as she gripped to his thick coat. He kept an arm secured around her back and the other underneath her knees. "Are you scared of heights?"

People looked like ants from here, tiny, fragile things unknown to the heavens above. They soared just above the power lines, a perfect vantage point to offer help to citizens while zooming through the sky. "Not usually," (Y/n) said. "I know you wouldn't drop me. Even if you did, I doubt I'd die from something as dumb as that."

A Hashira wouldn't be subject to such a death. Hawks wouldn't know that, but surely he'd understand by the hard-earned experience painted across her face. He stared off to the horizon, where the sun continued its ascend in burning reds and oranges.

"I can't believe you're fifteen," he admitted, smiling harshly. "You didn't have time to be a kid. Everything was thrown at you, and you had no choice but to take it." He didn't meet (Y/n)'s gaze, and maybe that was because he was scared of the reflection that would meet him in her golden eyes. "I still don't have an answer to your question. There's no reason for you to live but for your family or someone else you love. You could die right now and be free of all your worries. Why didn't you if you're so lost on being alive?"

In the passing weeks since the moment (Y/n) awoke, she was all but empty. Ghosts of her past never ceased to haunt her dreams or send her flying out of her bed in a cold sweat. If her life were so miserable, why hadn't she ended it? Why hadn't she done the opposite of what Tsukauchi kept trying to embed in her head this whole time?

"If your friends really cared about you, they'd want you to live."

But did they really? When she was on her deathbed, bleeding out with a blade stuck in her side, none of them begged her to stay awake. (Y/n)'s time had come, she planned to die on an early morning the same as this, as if some divine being had already written her life in full.

Hawks slowed the beat of his crimson wings, finally ripping his gaze from the horizon. The suburbs soon morphed into the busy streets of the city, where life buzzed with the businessmen speed walking through the crowds. (Y/n) searched Hawks' face for answers, a reason. "This isn't a national crisis, I'm sure you have better things to think about. I'm surprised you even remembered what I said--"

"Why wouldn't I?" Hawks spoke plainly, almost as if the thought were ridiculous. "It's not everyday I meet someone who time-traveled to the literal Taisho Era. Do you know how long ago that was?"

The wind chills dropped ten degrees, but (Y/n) refused to shiver, refused to show vulnerability in the face of a Hero. A being she was unworthy of being. The whistling wind became her answer, for her lips refused to move. What was there to say? Hawks was right; there was no reason not to.

"I see." She didn't, really. "Thank you then, for remembering me, Hawks."

Something in his stomach churned uncertainly. He thought of the reflection he faced in the mirror whenever he awoke. Same unruly hair, same amber eyes, same casual expression that some mistook for boredom. It painted itself across (Y/n)'s face, stained her empty eyes void of innocent delights.

Hawks circled around an intersection. Every few moments, his feathers soared through the sky in blurs of red to help with the daily issues of society. He soon came to a slow stop in front of a skyscraper, where windows upon windows shone in the rising sun.

Orange and red rays reflected upon its surface, hot against the cold touch of (Y/n)'s cheeks. Her feet touched the ground gracefully as Hawks released her from his firm grip. He folded his wings with a flap. "I can pick you up in an hour. If you need anything, borrow someone's phone to call me."

(Y/n) took a slip of paper from Hawks's gloved hands with a nod of 'thanks'. He didn't have to be so generous, no matter how detrimental the HPSC could be to her future. But wasn't that what heroes were for? To help those in need of a hand?

A wave of doubt pricked (Y/n)'s chest. She stared at the number, repeated it a few times in her head. "I still haven't a clue why you keep offering assistance. I understand you dislike the HPSC, but to do all this for me in a single day? Not to mention, you've brought me lunch for over a week."

The undertones shone clear as the bright, blue skies. Hawks tilted his head to the side, brows shooting up in question. "Eh?" he inquired with a chuckle. "Why would I want anything from you, Little Birdie?"

Because that was how the world spun round and round. Because that was how (Y/n) learned to understand people. Humans never gave out of charity unless to their own benefit. It was how many relationships started, many of which later deepened into something much sweeter than honey.

But Hawks had no allegiance to an organisation like the Corps, nor did he have any reason to remain beside (Y/n) when the HPSC probably already knew about her existence by now. "I understand we made a deal, but..." She paused, breath hitching. "You benefit nothing from helping me besides your own satisfaction. It's your own way to get back at the HPSC, yet it's like...like..."

Like he actually cared about her. Not as some supreme warrior at the top of the food chain (a Hashira), but as a young girl. A child.

Hawks's gaze fell on the businessman passing into the building. He eyed the street warily, as if he expected someone to jump out of nowhere. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to help people," he said quietly, distantly, "not everyone wants a reward for everything. I know I don't."

A goofy sort of smile rose to his lips, fading along the edges like the passing winds. "You'd understand, right, (Y/n)? You risked your life for the sake of humanity, anyone who does that must have a better reason than some lame reward." The sorrow slid off his face, melted into that stupidly casual expression he plastered to his very soul. "Maybe I'm just too optimistic. I'll pick you up in about an hour, okay? Meet me back here, and if I don't come, then don't run off, your house is too far to walk back to."

With a beat of those great, crimson wings, Hawks lifted off the pavement and soared into the morning skies. A group of fangirls followed after him, every now and then stopping to send death glares to the side of (Y/n)'s face. She shook her head, turning on her heel to enter the impeccably sleek building.

The office had to be the exact definition of high-class splendor. The waiting room had two leather sofas with red velvet pillows on either end. A coffee table sat in the middle of the room, where magazines and books lay in a neat pile in a bamboo tray. To the wall were light refreshments (water, coffee, tea) and a large mirror void of a single speck of dust.

How fancy.

(Y/n) didn't much care for the decor. She admired the stylistic choices in silence, but refused to actually admit that she liked it (even though she did). It must be nice to be rich in this era, she thought.

Soon, a man with a suit entered the waiting room and motioned for (Y/n) to follow him. The two passed through dark halls, warm lamps on either side stretching out long shadows against paintings of mountains. Each step echoed loudly, as if the void of rooms stretched out to infinity.

The man suddenly stopped. If (Y/n) weren't a Slayer, she would have toppled into him.

"Yaoyorozu-san is inside," he said with a bow. The large double doors opened with a low creak, where a room the colours of autumn greeted (Y/n). It smelled of musk and paper, like an old library. The oaken bookshelves shone in warm rays of sun, where drifting specs of dust fluttered through its light.

It looked exactly like the waiting room, but with a personalized touch. Family photos, neat stacks of files, pens and pencils, scattered along a large desk. It could have been homey if not for the man sat at his desk with half a meter of files in front of him.

(Y/n) closed the door shut and offered a polite bow. "Ichiro-san, it's a pleasure to see you again." She offered a small smile and he practically jumped from his seat. A bright aura seeped into his stride as he crossed the room with open arms. "(Y/n)!" He engulfed her in a tight hug, a chuckle escaping his lips. "You've grown so tall since the last time I saw you!"

"It has been a few years," she said, returning the hug. "I apologise if I caused you any worry." Yaoyorozu-san pulled away to get a good look at (Y/n)'s face. He studied the maturity in her golden hues, the emptiness that followed in its wake. "Call me Oji-san. How many times do I have to remind you?"

Ah, that was right. Yaoyorozu-san wasn't just the CEO of a whole multi-million dollar company, but a close friend whom (Y/n) made through mere coincidence. She saved his life once, and since then, he treated her as his own. "Oji-san," she tried for a smile again, "have you been alright? How has everything been?"

The smile on Yaoyorozu's face slid off. Stress lines pulled at his forehead, where a messy strand of hair fell from his slicked back hair. The black locks were littered with grey and silvery strands, almost as if pepper had been thrown over him before he left the house. "Come sit down. I will tell you everything I know, but you have to promise me not to tell your brother."

The two sat across from each other at the sofas, where a heavy oaken coffee table separated them. Yaoyorozu ran a hand over his dark hair with a long shake of his head. "I'll start off simply: Someone poisoned your Oyaji."

Poisoned? How was that possible? With the Quirk Overhaul, surely something could be done--

"Your brother has tried everything to help him, but it seems his current state might either be a result of old age, or a chronic illness." Yaoyorozu wrung out his hands again, fiddled with his perfectly manicured nails. "Kai asked me for a loan to fund research into the illness, so I obliged. It's such a shame though that he's turned up empty-handed for the past few years. Have you seen your father as of late, (Y/n)?"

She shook her head, brows knitted tightly as she folded her hands together tightly. The Quirk, Overhaul, had its many uses, the main being deconstruction and reconstruction. If used correctly, it could heal fatigue, fuse two things together, and take apart nearly anything. Its main flaw was its inability to cure illness without the cause of death.

(Y/n)'s breath hitched.

Bits and pieces echoed in her head like a broken record, repeating and connecting in pauses and beats. It slowly connected, like a set of dots forming a single picture. The reason why Kai hadn't tried to help Oyaji was because the only way to save a sick person was through a complete overhaul.

In layman's terms, it was known as the cold, unforgiving arms of death.

Modern Era Secrets!

-Hari ran out of the house the moment (Y/n) left but had no luck finding her
-Taking the car was not an option, so he ran for a good half hour before deciding to take an uber (he got tired)
-Kai started experimenting not only to dominate the market, but to get money in researching teleportation Quirks.
-(Y/n) used to force Hari and Kai to wear flower crowns with her. They hated it and always made her do something they liked afterwards.
-(Y/n) was Hari's childhood crush (for three months).
-Hari's crush faded because Kai kept glaring at him coldly (ooo, scary!).

Chapter Text

'There must be something in the water
'Cause everyday it's getting colder
And if only I could hold you
You'd keep my head from going under...'
-Bruises, Lewis Capaldi

"Promise me not to tell your brother."

Those words echoed in the back of (Y/n)'s mind as she sat in the dark, silent room. The only sound breaking through the heavy atmosphere was the low beep of the heart monitor.

"Your brother has tried everything to help him," Yaororozu-san said, "but it seems his current state might either be a result of old age, or a chronic illness."

Why hadn't Kai said anything? Much less, explained the situation? He hadn't been honest, and that, more than anything, cut deeper than a knife. (Y/n) may be young, but she walked beside death for years. She could take the truth. She could handle the crushing weight that left her winded and choking for air as tears streamed down her ashen face--

"(Y/n)."

She hadn't heard the footsteps, or sensed the presence colder than the Arctic. Maybe it was because this presence was much like her own, hardened by this terrible reality. She stifled a sob, sniffled quietly. "Nii-chan," --her voice trembled-- "why...why didn't you say anything?"

The heart monitor beeped as she stared at the hands that refused to move. Once, Oyaji had tried to braid (Y/n)'s hair, but complained that his hands weren't nimble like hers. Once, he had held her close and ran a hand over her head as he lovingly kissed her cheeks. Now, that would never happen. Not as long as he lay in bed frozen in time.

Kai strode into the room, steps heavy and sharp. "I told you not to come in here," he stated. "This isn't something you should see." The urge to laugh hit (Y/n) like a hurricane. She turned to face him, liquid golden eyes glistening with fresh tears. "Something I 'shouldn't see'?" she echoed. "He's our Oyaji! I've been gone for four years and you don't even want me to see him...?"

The crack in (Y/n)'s voice echoed against the empty walls like a gong. For a moment, Kai's gaze fell to the ground, but just as quickly, it rose sternly. No remorse. No kindness in those icy eyes. "This is exactly why I didn't want you to see him." He heaved out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes in thought, as if this were a trivial matter that could easily be solved.

But it wasn't. Not when Oyaji could be on his deathbed and there was something both of them could do. (Y/n)'s hands curled into fists. "I'm not a little kid," she tightly stated. "I never was and you know, this for me, is bearable." The images of bloodstained mountainsides and rolling heads filled her mind, where screams and cries of the dead always lay in its wake.

Death was inevitable, and (Y/n) knew that more than anyone. She pleadingly looked into Kai's hardened eyes, silently begging an answer. It was the only thing she could ask for, the only thing she truly needed from him in this second.

Kai sighed to himself. "(Y/n)," he spoke softly, as if afraid she would break, "can you trust me as I've trusted you?" Her breath caught in her throat, face ashen and drained of any colour as the tears kept streaming down, down, down. Trust? What trust could she give when her mind dared entertain the thought of foul play?

"I..." Her lips parted to speak, but no sound fully came. "I..."

(Y/n)'s gaze fell to her fists trembling like leaves. Was she...scared? Of what? This was her brother, for crying out loud! And there was nothing to fear when she looked Kibutsuji in the eyes and lived. It couldn't be fear, maybe just the adrenaline from all the tears and sobbing she tried so hard to suppress. Whatever it was was not fear. Never.

"Come on." Kai placed a hand to (Y/n)'s back. "I'll make dinner. Don't cry anymore, I don't like it when you cry." She watched as he closed the door, the quiet song of the heart monitor disappearing as they passed through the halls. Her heart weighed heavily with the thought that something she couldn't see was amiss.

In the kitchen, Kai made sure to brew (Y/n) a nice hot cup of roasted green tea. She watched her reflection waver in and out of the surface while tears still blurred her vision. "Why didn't you tell me?" she painfully croaked. "You always tell me everything, Nii-chan. Why not now?"

If he had an answer, he refused to share it. All Kai did was silently turn on the stove, as if he wasn't sure what to say either. "I hate it when you cry," he muttered, tossing ingredients into the pan. "It hurts. Especially when I'm the cause."

(Y/n) sipped her hot tea and blew her nose. She placed her head in her arms, mind reeling. "Where's Eri?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen her in a while."

(Y/n) rubbed at her irritated eyes, sniffling. "Oh." She didn't have the energy to question him anymore, or push the topic further. All that remained was a sinking emptiness that only grew in the pit of her stomach.

That night, (Y/n) slipped out of the house. She donned her uniform and the katana that she so dearly treasured. It made her feel safe. Secure. Being a Demon Slayer was all she had known for the past few years, and that would forever remain a piece of her very soul. Her allegiance remained to Oyakata-sama, who died so heroically in his last moments.

The scent of smoke, the heat of the fire. It had been a terrible fight that night, a horrifying sight that left her in tears. (Y/n) stared at the road ahead, lips pressed into a thin line.

The street lamps illuminated the pavement in lone shadows of haunting figures. Some seemed to stare back with beady red eyes. but that wasn't possible. Demons did not exist in this era, not after they had been eliminated for nearly a century.

"Is that what you truly think?" inquired a chilly voice. "That I am no more?"

(Y/n)'s hand landed on the hilt of her blade. With a single flick of her wrist, the wrappings tore to shreds and the sheath cluttered to the ground. She spun around and swiftly cut through the air, right where the sound had come from.

"Too slow." Kibutsuji said. "It's a wonder you became a Hashira at all."

(Y/n) followed the echo of the voice and brought her katana down in a long arc of ice. She sliced through air.

The wind blew through the trees as she spun in a full circle, rustling their colourful leaves as she stood still, silent as the night. She heaved, shoulders moving up and down. Kibutsuji had been here. She heard him, sensed the hot, sickly aura like bubbling lava. There was no other being in existence who carried such a heavy weight so threatening it sent (Y/n) spiraling. But...she had been there in his final moments. He was dead.

Dead.

Dead.

The strong beat of wings jolted (Y/n)'s gaze to the sky. Her heart slammed against her chest as she gulped in long, heavy breaths. Kibutsuji is dead, she affirmed. He is dead.

As Hawks landed, she sheathed the blade and used her Quirk to repair the torn covering over her katana. What great timing he had, absolutely wonderful in a moment of pure vulnerability. "What are you doing out here so late?" she quietly inquired. "I'm sure you don't have any business here tonight."

Hawks tilted his head to the side to get a better look at (Y/n)'s downcast face. She refused to meet his eye. It was embarrassing when her face was red from rubbing at the tears.

"Are you okay?" he inquired. "You look shaken."

Shaken, for lack of better words, hit a little too close to home. The tremble in her hands, the quiver in her lip, the frantic beating of her heart. (Y/n) heaved in a long breath. Breathe. She needed to breathe. "I'm fine, just tired." Her calm voice did well to hide the tension in her heart. "How are you, Hawks?"

He looked like he wanted to say something. Whatever that something was, he kept to himself and a cheery smile rose to his lips instead. "Relieved and happy, more or less. The HPSC know who you are, but on the bright side, I got permission to recommend you to U.A." He rubbed the back of his neck and pushed a few unruly locks from his face. "It was a bit tough and I got chewed out, but they gave in, so it's all good."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened. He had her hook, line, and sinker. It was almost enough to forget about Kibutsuji. "You got permission to recommend me?" Her gaze whipped up to meet his, and in the light of the lamp posts, he caught sight of the red rims around her golden eyes. "How? The HPSC probably have better education, couldn't they have simply turned you down?"

Hawks pushed his thoughts to the side and winked all sweetly. "It's a secret!" he exclaimed, placing a finger to his lips. "You don't have to worry about the entrance exam anymore, it's one less thing off your plate."

All (Y/n) could do was marvel at the winged man before her. A recommendation letter to U.A. was worth the weight of thousands of golden coins. It was a rare commodity that meant having the privilege of a guaranteed slot, as well as a longer time frame to prepare for the school year. How lucky. How gosh dang lucky.

(Y/n) heaved out something between a sigh and a laugh. "Thank you, Hawks. You didn't have to go through so much trouble for someone like me."

There was a knowing look in his amber eyes, a glow of understanding. "I'm glad I could help." he said with a bright smile. "Wanna go for a fly around the city? I'll bring you back home before twenty-two thirty."

(Y/n) took a quick glance at the night sky. Stars glittered overhead, tiny specs that formed beautiful constellations light years away. There was no harm in a little joy-ride through the skies, right? It wasn't like anyone would notice she was gone. No one was ever really around anyway. "Alright. I don't see why not."

Hawks's grin widened. "Hang on tight!" In one fell swoop, he scooped her into his arms and opened his wings. He gave them a flap and in a flurry of crimson feathers, they were off into the midnight blue.

Empty. That was all (Y/n) had truly felt from the moment her eyes opened on that hospital bed. She thought of her final moments, where she died with a smile. Instead of passing over with Akaza and everyone else she loved, she was here, held tight in Hawks's arms as he flew across the suburbs.

Cool autumn breezes whistled through (Y/n)'s hair and against her cheeks. She thought of the nights with only her katana to keep her company, or Akaza who watched her tirelessly hunt demons until dawn. He always complimented her afterward, proudly announcing that none in her path could live up to her strength.

"It's beautiful." (Y/n) said. "Is this what you see all the time?" Hawks examined the lights below, where a person or two walked about from one place to another. "Mostly, but I've never seen it as 'beautiful'. I'm usually too busy working to notice." Red feathers soared down to help an old lady cross the street and another flew down to stop a robber from mugging a young couple. "Now that you mention it, the view is beautiful. It's calming."

The suburbs soon morphed into skyscrapers and highways, then to the bustling centre of the city where light pollution drowned out even the brightest of stars. Hawks landed on a rooftop with a flap of his wings and set (Y/n) down. Her gaze fell on the cars below zooming through the long, gleaming boulevards. The city really did never sleep, even during the wee hours of morning.

"It's hard getting used to all these cars." (Y/n) said. "Back then, all I ever heard were the trees and cicadas, or the yelling of someone else." The face of Shinjuro flashed in her mind, a man of great bravado who ruined himself through sorrow. They fought a lot, with (Y/n) usually emerging victorious. If not, she was either stunned to silence or held back by Senjuro.

Then there was Kyojurou, who often times tried to ease her worries with a smile. Just like the the Hero beside her on this very rooftop.

"I used to be afraid of heights." (Y/n) admitted, leaning against the railing of the skyscraper. "It wasn't until my teacher made me walk down the side of a mountain that I actually got over it. He was with me every step of the way, but it was still terrifying."

The day had been warm, but not unbearably. In some faraway southern province of Japan, Kyojurou and (Y/n) had to get across a bridge, but it was too weak to bear their weight. Instead of going around, Kyojurou made them both walk across a thin, narrow pathway against the mountainside.

"Who was your teacher?"

(Y/n) rested her cheek in her hand in thought, gaze focused on the passing traffic below. "My teacher was someone who everyone relied on. He was like a brother to me even before he became my teacher. I had never met someone as incredible as him. He never gave up, even in his final battle. When he died, I didn't think I could cry so much. I cursed everyone I could think of, but mostly myself. I wasn't there for him when he needed me most." She paused, rubbing at the stinging in her reddened eyes. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this, sorry. It's stupid."

Hawks's amber eyes glowed softly with the city lights. He leaned his head to the side so (Y/n) could look him directly in the eye (she kept staring at the cars). There was melancholy in his gaze, a hidden sorrow held deep in his chest.

"Stupid?" Hawks quietly echoed. "That's just being human, (Y/n)." She gripped the railing tightly, but not enough to crack the weak metal. "Maybe." Her throat was tight and sore. "Maybe it is."

The flight home was spent in a comfortable quiet, one where thoughts roamed free. (Y/n) tried not to think hard about what Hawks said, or the way he looked at her so softly (like he understood her, like he knew what it felt like to feel worthless). It made her skin itch and her heart ache.

The familiar streets leading just around the corner to the Compound made (Y/n) want to sigh. Hawks slowed his pace and landed, setting her down tentatively. "Tomorrow is my last day in Musutafu."

Oh.

"Then I'll be heading back to Kyushu."

It was like a punch to the gut. Leaving. Hawks was leaving. It was funny how quick people came and went. They liked to make an impact (a routine so simple yet so fulfilling), that made you want to rely on them. Then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone.

(Y/n) swallowed hard, biting back the ice gathering in her fingertips. "So...I won't be seeing you for...a while, then." She shifted from foot to foot, fiddled awkwardly with the edge of her sleeves. "I hope the HPSC don't cause you too much trouble."

The smile on Hawks's lips grew with affection. "Aw, I didn't think you'd get so sentimental, Little Birdie!" He gave her hair a good ruffle and it made her feel like a kid. "Call or text if you need anything. We're friends, right?" A spark of warmth filled (Y/n)'s chest. She met his sparkling amber eyes, and if she hadn't felt so sad yet happy at the same time, she would have smiled. "Yes, we're friends."

"Then I'll see ya around, kid." Hawks turned to leave, readying to take flight. Was this it? He'd leave, then be too busy to ever come back. His duty was to the people after all, it wasn't his job to stick around. And even if that were true, it still hurt to know that there was one less reason to wake up every morning.

(Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat, a hand striking forward to grip his sleeve. "Hawks," she pursed her lips tightly and let go, "I...nevermind. It's...it's nothing."

Hawks stood still for a hard, long minute, lips pursed painfully tight. Sometimes, he feared looking (Y/n) in the eye. Not just because he saw fragments of himself, but because of how empty she stared at the colourful world around her. She went through hell and back, only to be thrown into limbo instead. "Are you sure it's nothing?"

She nodded and he opted to give her a good pat on the shoulder. "I'll see you soon then, don't miss me too much, Little Birdie." With one last smile, he threw a thumbs-up and took off into the starry night skies.

---

The door slamming open startled (Y/n) out of her stupor. She brushed a stray piece of damp hair from her face and turned to blankly stare at the intruder. She had just gotten home and taken a shower, what more did anyone need from her? Moments before Hawks took off, she nearly said something stupid and embarrassing.

I still don't have a reason to live, was what she wanted to say, yet the words stuck in her throat. Thank goodness for it too, else she'd admit to something unworthy of a Hashira.

"Where were you?" Hari demanded, striding into the room with a heave. "I've been looking for you for almost two hours! It's twenty-three thirty, almost midnight!"

(Y/n) sluggishly took a seat on her futon. "I went for a walk," she said, pulling the covers tight. "Did you need something?"

Apparently he did, because a long, displeased huff escaped his lips. He took a seat on the tatami, thick brows knitted in distraught as he ran his hands through his hair. "You can't just leave without telling anyone where or what you're doing. Do you know how worried I was about you? It's late, you shouldn't have been outside to begin with."

(Y/n), in fact, did not know. She had assumed that everything would be fine since she, well, assumed that they would all understand her capabilities.

Shinobu only ever freaked out if (Y/n) left her estate injured. Everyone else never bat an eye. Why should a Hashira have to be watched with the eyes of a hawk? It wasn't a difficult feat to walk a couple days on a solo mission, then reappear with news of whatever she had done while gone.

But Hari didn't know that. One look at the way he gripped at his lilac locks made (Y/n)'s heart pang with guilt. She frowned. "I needed some air. It was a little stuffy."

The anger in Hari's eyes flooded away with concern. "A walk?" He suddenly looked shameful, like an adult in a classroom of rude kindergarteners. "Are you okay?"

That wasn't what he was supposed to say. Hari was supposed to be angry instead, mad because (Y/n) worried him over her well-being. Why was he asking her if she were alright all of a sudden? Just like Hawks?

"I'm fine." she said. "There's nothing wrong." Hari frowned and scooted closer on the tatami. "You look like you've been crying. Was it because Kai got mad when you went to see the Oyabun?" (Y/n) finally met his gaze head-on, empty golden eyes boring into his. "So he told you everything."

"Not everything." Hari said, shaking his head. "Just the minor details." (Y/n) heaved in a tight breath to meditate carefully upon her next course of action. She wasn't ready to pick a fight with him, not when he was the only person who hadn't completely gone astray from who she remembered. He still laughed around her, spoke naturally, freely. It wasn't like with Kai, who went quiet most times, or sighed deeply, as if something were bothering him.

"I just wish you both were honest with me," (Y/n) quietly said. "Like how we used to be when we were young." Hari looked like he had been punched. He swallowed thickly, frowned tightly. "Well..."

A shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine. She sat stiff in place, socks digging into the smooth surface of the tatami. Fear was not commonplace in a Hashira's heart, especially not one that took the place of her teacher's burdens. She knew the dangers that came with lopping off heads every night, knew the terrors that followed.

Yet here she sat, wrapped tightly in a blanket, fists balled as the door ominously slid open. A heavy aura filled the atmosphere like a wet blanket, settled uncomfortably, a ball of worries that left her stomach acid churning. An imposing figure stalked into the room, steps sharp and clipped as heels to wooden flooring.

"It's twenty minutes to midnight," Kai passively grumbled. "What made you think it was a good idea to leave the house early this morning, come back only for dinner, and then leave again?" The door slid shut in place, a single pair of analytical eyes falling on (Y/n)'s form.

Eight years old. She was suddenly eight years old, a kid no older than that neighbor's daughter who sang Disney songs terribly off key on the weekends. Her gaze fell to her bare toes as she wiggled them about to keep her mind wandering from the angry boy in front of her.

Kai folded his arms across his chest, brows knitted. "You should know better than to leave without informing anyone of how long you'll be gone. If something happened to you, none of us would know unless you ended up on the news again." He didn't need to sigh, a simple glance at his distraught expression made guilt fill (Y/n)'s heart. She glared at the floor, right where a plushie sat by its lonesome. "I was busy, okay?"

"And so was I." Kai swiftly retorted. "I went out today to buy you a phone. Text me when you're leaving, where you're going, and how long you'll be gone for. It's not hard, so don't forget." He dug into his pocket and produced some new model of a Samsung. It was shiny, with a (f/c) case and charger to match.

(Y/n) briefly stared at him before taking it in silence. She swallowed hard the pit building in her stomach, the slight fear of something she could not place. That eight year old was gone, overtaken by the fire burning bright in her soul. She didn't understand, and maybe it was because she didn't want to. "Why are you lecturing me?" she demanded. "I can take care of myself."

Kai rolled his eyes as if (Y/n) had claimed she were a purple forty-five-foot tall platypus. "Like how you came back half-dead and ended up on the news?" he retorted with a grimace. "Being a magnet for trouble doesn't earn my trust. Take Chrono with you next time, and don't associate yourself with unsavory idiots."

Unsavory idiots? How did he know I was with Hawks? (Y/n)'s gaze zeroed on his, mouth agape. "What do you mean 'unsavory'?" Kai frowned underneath that plague mask, eyes distantly aglow in thought. "Be careful, okay?" He ruffled her hair. "I don't want to see you hurt."

Then Kai turned on his heel and disappeared into the hall.

"He didn't shut the door." Hari absentmindedly muttered. (Y/n) made her way over and kicked it shut with her foot. Questions, so many questions, and so little time to have it all answered. She plopped back down on her futon, wrapping the blankets closer. "I don't understand him."

Hari shifted uncomfortably, digging his fingers into the plush of his sweatpants. "What do you mean?" (Y/n) took a seat in front of him and stared straight into his grey hues like clouds on a summer day. "You know what I mean, Hari. You aren't Nii-chan's right hand for nothing."

And it was like a record played on repeat.

"Chrono," Overhaul sharply turned to face him, "think harder. You're supposed to be my right hand."

He suddenly stood, jaw tensed and locked in place. "I don't know what you're talking about." Lies, all lies. "I have to go now, if you need anything, text me. I know Kai already put our numbers in your phone." He slid out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

(Y/n) clutched the phone tight in her hands, gaze falling to the empty spaces in front of her. The tell-tale tap of rain against her window broke through the tense silence. It bathed her room in its steady song, where memories of dancing hand-in-hand with Akaza flashed in the back of her mind. His laughs filled her ears, a ghost of the past.

And gods, how was it possible to feel so alone in a compound full of people?

Breakfast began with silence, save for the noisy birds chirping outside. (Y/n) sat at the table, eating with her gaze to the empty chairs. Kai sat across from her, mask and gloves off, gaze flickering to hers before falling and rising once again.

(Y/n) frowned to herself. "What? Why are you staring at me like that?" The cold hostility in her voice made Kai's brows raise. He set his chopsticks down, took a long sip of steaming tea. "Do you still want to become a hero?"

That...wasn't the answer she expected. What did this even have to do with him anyway? There were more important matters, like Oyaji's health and how to help him, or Eri's whereabouts. (Y/n) swallowed, eyes sharp in challenge. "Why do you ask me now?" Kai picked up a bundle of vegetables with his chopsticks and set it in his bowl. "No reason, I just want to know. You can't stay in the compound forever since you're growing up."

It was a reasonable answer, yet (Y/n) found herself frowning deeply. She had to tread carefully, lightly among the thin ice beneath her feet. "What if I do?" she quietly inquired. "You never liked people with 'Hero Syndrome'."

The light jab made Kai almost smile, as if he had expected such an answer, as if that were exactly what he wanted to hear. "I'll take that as a yes," he lowly said, gaze boring holes into the table. "If that's the case, then it's fine. Do as you like as long as you know where it'll lead you."

The comment was steeled in needles. (Y/n) searched his face for answers, reassurance when darkness fell. And for a moment, doubt dawned upon her for a clear snapshot of time. "Nii-chan," she swallowed the lump in her throat, "be honest with me. Is something wrong?"

For a long, hard minute, Kai looked like he considered telling her everything that weighed his tired mind. He folded his bare hands together, ran his thumb along his palms in thought. "Nothing's wrong with me, (Y/n)." The ice melted from his face as he tried for a strained smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You have a brighter future, don't lose sight of who you are. That's all I ask for."

The gentle sorrow filling his voice made (Y/n)'s heart ache in pain. She clenched her fists tight, nails digging half-moons into her palms. "What more aren't you telling me?" Her voice was just barely above a whisper, barely above a cry. "You make it sound like something bad's going to happen."

Kai stood, golden eyes distantly focused on the sink. He took the empty bowls, the teacups, and began washing it all without a single breath. (Y/n) watched in silence, a bitter taste in her mouth. "It's because of that time, isn't it? Nii-chan, you--"

"I have to leave now." He turned off the sink, the running water halting with a high-pitched squeak. "Or I'll be late." He set the dishes on a rack and dried his hands. When his gaze finally met (Y/n)'s, he paused to give her hair a ruffle. "Don't look so concerned, your only job is to study hard for the entrance exams. Even if you don't do well on the written, you'll pass easily during the practical." He turned to leave, but before he could set a single foot past the dining table, (Y/n) caught his hand in hers, giving it a tight squeeze.

It had been so long since she held Kai's hand like this. How old had she been? Five? Six? The dirty streets of the city hadn't always been her first sights in the morning. No, it had been that forsaken daycare for troubled children, the place where (Y/n) held tight to Kai like her life depended on it. The stench of iron, the angry barking of feral animals, the overhead industrial lights just a little too bright and white...

(Y/n)'s gaze hesitantly meet Kai's wide eyes. He stood frozen, as if to think upon thousands of ways to react. When he didn't move, she pulled him close and rested her head on his shoulder. "I hope whatever you're doing is right," --her eyes burned with unshed tears-- "I don't know how much more I can take."

That confession shouldn't have been so true, so honest when Kai had been anything but that. It made the tears threaten to overflow, her heart ache painfully tight. Kai slowly returned the embrace, holding her close as if to protect her from the cold. He held her close, held her she would disappear tomorrow.

(Y/n) sniffled quietly, "I'm sorry."

Kai frowned. "For what?"

She didn't know what she was sorry for, but she knew she had done something to wrong him in the worst way possible. After all, she had been gone for four years. Things changed without her presence and Kai must have blamed himself for what he could not control. It was natural, just as the words that left (Y/n)'s lips.

"Everything." she said. "I'm sorry for everything."

---

It was always cold beneath the compound where the walls were a pasty grey and the ceilings a little too high. The stench of acetone and rubbing alcohol filled the crisp air perfectly conditioned to Overhaul's liking. Cool, yet temperate, but not too warm that it'd interfere in his labs.

Throughout the years, he become rather handy in collecting money outside of petty theft. He was much above such lowly behaviour now that he was in his twenties, and it so happened that his dear younger sister opened the front doors.

"You're late," Overhaul passively noted. He didn't look up from the centrifuge tube between his gloved hands. The solids had fallen to the bottom, where a transparent liquid rose to the top. "Don't waste your time thinking about (Y/n). She's fine now, just shaken up. Give her a while to settle, she'll be fine."

It was eerily silent as Overhaul set the tube down. He looked at Chrono questioningly, a brow raised with little mirth. "Why are you standing there? Go get Eri." With a dip of his head, Chrono scurried out of the lab with quiet steps, a fist clenched tight at his side.

What the hell was that about? Just because (Y/n) had come back didn't mean slacking off was acceptable. With Mimic's loud voice echoing down the halls and Rappa's yelling following after, he already had plenty of things to worry about. The Eight Expendables were reliable when needed, but mere pawns like the little girl with white hair he so deeply despised.

Chrono was still Overhaul's right hand, an important piece he relied on. Without him, he wouldn't have anyone else to conduct research with. They were all too stupid.

A rush of anger pulled at Overhaul's veins as he scribbled in a notebook, each character as neat as his tidy workbench. He thought of the tears streaming down (Y/n)'s face, the tremble in her lip, the pain heavy in her sad, golden eyes as she stood beside Oyaji's bed.

Quirks. Those forsaken, cursed things that tore her future in two. If she hadn't disappeared, things would have been different. Overhaul wouldn't have emerged, Eri would not be a lab experiment, and Oyaji wouldn't be bedridden. He would have given up this grand-plan if that damned man hadn't blasted her somewhere with his Quirk.

The very thought of ridding this world of something so unnecessary and impure excited Overhaul. It was an opportunity to make everyone normal, cured of burdens that left them sick in the head. A thin file stuck out at the corner of his desk, where a photo of a young man with dirty hair sat.

Yamaguchi Haruka.
Age: 22
Quirk: Time Travel; causes the person he looks at to be transported at will. If used improperly, random people may be drawn into the portal against their will or transported to a different time.
Status: Deceased
Cause: Suicide

Overhaul scowled underneath his mask. He gave the file a sharp glare before tossing it into the recycle bin. One more second of that empty face staring back would have made him sick to his stomach.

A knock at the door broke him from his thoughts. Chrono entered just in time to see the rubbish bin precariously tip to the left. It landed flat on its bottom and remained in its place with a low 'thud'. Eri shifted uncomfortably in Chrono's arms, those bright red eyes pointed to the immaculate tile beneath his boots. He glanced at her curiously before turning to meet Overhaul's eye. "Wasn't that the case file Mimic stole a while ago?"

A scoff escaped Overhaul's lips, as if that were the stupidest comment to grace his very ears. "The guy's dead already, there's no point in keeping rubbish." He strode over to the cold operating chair in the middle of the room, impatience brimming in his steps. The lights flickered on and harsh white brightened up the already pale walls. "Hurry up and bring her over."

Chrono looked lost, for whatever reason. He stood still as if to contemplate before slowly setting Eri down and fiddling with the equipment clumsily. It was oddly tense as he turned on a few machines and shuffled through a binder.

"What are you going to tell (Y/n)?" Chrono suddenly inquired. "She's going to find out."

Ah, so that's what this was about. Such trivial matters didn't need to be dwelt upon, but the more Overhaul thought about it, the more he paused to actually think. (Y/n) was very smart, perceptive, and battle-hardened. If pushed far enough, she could probably murder everyone in the Compound and come out unscathed. A menace in a deep slumber--that was who his sister was.

"She wants to go to U.A.," Overhaul said. He picked up a bottle of rubbing alcohol and dabbed it on a cotton swab. "She can dorm there. It's pricey, but I'd prefer to think of it as an investment. That leaves us about four or five months before the entrance exams. Keep her under control and keep her put of the basement. That's all we have to do."

Chrono pursed his lips under his mask. "And what about Yamaguchi Haruka? We still don't know what he did to (Y/n)."

Questions, questions, questions. Why did Chrono have so many damn questions? The Shie Hassaikai already sued the Yamaguchi family after the incident. They showed no mercy as a Yakuza clan, which ended in the Yamaguchi family dying of public shame.

There was nothing left to do with a dead end, couldn't Chrono see that?

"Forget Yamaguchi," Overhaul stated. "He's dead."

Chrono stiffened. "How?"

"She killed him." Chisaki stabbed a needle into Eri's arm. She flinched and he briefly locked eyes with her before picking up a tool on the counter. "It's funny how (Y/n) told the police, but not me. She's so busy feeling sorry for herself that she refuses to acknowledge what happened." There was a bitterness in his tone, a pained sort of tightness that made his chest ache.

(Y/n) always told him everything, no matter how mundane. Whether it be about the person she talked to at school, or what she did in a class she liked. Kai had always been there for her (and always will), nothing changed besides the time that separated them from each others' sides. Yet she still hasn't said anything, he thought.

Chrono jotted some notes down on his clipboard, the lenses of his mask glinting in the stern lights. "What do you think happened to her?" he inquired. "Unless Giran found out for you?" Overhaul shook his head and 'tch-ed'. Of course he didn't know yet, else he wouldn't be so damn irritated. "The information is inaccessible to everyone but the Hero Public Safety Commission and it's not yet possible to hack their systems. I'm not willing to pay Giran more than he's able to do."

And it wasn't like there weren't better ways to obtain primary source information. He thought of the black uniform with silver buttons, the snowflake hair clip (Y/n) always wore, the haori to match, and the katana. If there was one thing Chisaki Kai was good at, it was getting exactly what he wanted.

Every single time.

---

The chilly morning air hit (Y/n)'s face as she stepped into the courtyard. The bare wisteria tree shuddered in the wind, its thick branches dancing. She took a seat on the stone bench and leaned into the rough bark, a long, tired sigh escaping her lips. Faces; names; they plagued her mind with the strength of the sun's rising rays.

Kyojurou. Shinobu. Oyakata-sama. Sanemi. Uzui. Mitsuri. Giyuu. Muichiro. Gyomei. Akaza--

"(Y/n)?"

Lilac hair peeked from underneath a thick, white raincoat. (Y/n) didn't need to see the face to know who it was. "Hari," --she didn't care to look at his awkward get-up-- "what do you want?" He stopped about five paces in front of her, right where a pile of brown leaves crunched under his boots. "You're all alone."

A pang of irritation stabbed (Y/n) in the side. "So?" She shut her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. "What's wrong with that?" Hari must have made some weird face, because he began to shuffle from foot to foot. "Do you want some fruit? I'll cut it for you."

Ah, yes, cut up fruit, the one way any Asian family member older than you apologised. (Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open and she paused to size Hari up. With the way he kept twiddling his thumbs and tensely glancing around, he looked like he committed some war crime. Gods, it was beginning to get on her nerves.

"What do you want, Hari?" she inquired. "You came here for a reason I'm betting isn't an apology." He stood stiff as a board, beads of sweat threatening to glaze his forehead. He was already treading upon thin ice by deciding to come out here. It would be a miracle if (Y/n) didn't push him away for the next words that left his lips.

"Is something bothering you?"

(Y/n) froze, eyes wide in accusation. What kind of question was that? There was nothing wrong with her, no. Not the fact that all her friends and (found) family were dead, or that the one person she would give her everything to had died by her hand, or that she was a worthless Hashira who should have died weeks ago. No, of course not. Nothing was bothering her. Not at all.

It must have been too silent, because Hari tried again. "I just want to help you. I'm worried since you've been so quiet for so long." (Y/n) folded her hands over her lap, lips taunt. She didn't need 'help', much less someone to talk to. What she longed for, more than the warmth of her family, was death. Even if it was in agony like her last stand in the Battle Until Dawn, she would rather go out fighting than by wasting away in some sad excuse for a home.

But if there was anyone who would listen to her without judgement, without a scorn of distaste, it was Hari. Even though he was older and taller than she remembered, he was still her best friend who knew her like the back of his own hand.

(Y/n) motioned for Hari to take a seat beside her. Her doubts could wait. If she didn't speak now, she feared she never would. "Did Nii-chan ever tell you about where he first read about Quirk Theory?" Hari removed his mask, running a finger over its smooth surface as he sat down. "No, it's something we both ended up researching together. I never really knew where he first got the idea."

That sounded about right. Kai wasn't one to speak much about the past to people anyway. It was a private matter, one that stayed between them. "Before Oyaji found us, we were taken in by a children's care centre. Everyone there was apparently homeless or an orphan, so the staff insisted they think of that place as 'home'."

Bright blue walls, tacky children stickers of airplanes and clouds. The children's centre looked more akin to a preschool than anything, yet with the amount of hospital supplies on hand, one had to wonder if it truly was a safe-haven or a hell in disguise.

"I thought we were lucky at first." (Y/n) fiddled with the edge of her haori where the pale whites merged with rich indigos and purples. "There were clean clothes, lots of food, and a warm bed. We had showers too, and were free from random thugs who wanted target practice." The clouds languidly soared through the sky, where the sun rose over the Compound's walls. "One night, we realised what that place was really for."

Whispers in the dark had awoken (Y/n) from her slumber. When she had turned to look at Kai, she found him sat up in bed, wide-awake with his ear pressed to the wall. It was as if he were waiting for something to happen, something to jump out of the darkness and swallow them whole.

"Nii-chan found a book about Quirk Theory sometime that week, and we both concluded that it wasn't something any child our age would ever read. Everyone there was stupid, drunk on ignorance because they believed the centre was actually 'home'. Long story short, we ended up killing a few staff and running away."

(Y/n) stood, shaking her head. There was much more to the story, but if she continued, it would take hours to explain. She didn't have hours, nor did she have the patience to sit down and relax. The sound of the heart monitor beeping echoed in her mind, then the image of Kai as he loomed in the doorway. "I have a feeling Nii-chan's doing something he shouldn't, but whenever I ask, he brushes me off. If he's in trouble, you'll tell me, won't you, Hari?"

It was silent for a moment, save for the chilling breeze whipping up dead leaves. Hari's lilac hair brushed his cheeks as his gaze bounced up from the orange and red sky to (Y/n)'s face. "Yes," --he couldn't quite meet her eyes-- "I will."

Lies. (Y/n) knew by the way he frowned. It's all lies.

Modern Era Secrets!

-hawks sent a plushie of himself in the mail to (Y/n)'s house
-nemoto found it when he swung by the compound. he does not know a '(Y/n)' yet and was very confused when he handed it over to Overhaul
-the plushie now sits on (Y/n)'s futon. she sleeps with it.
-eri overheard of (Y/n)'s return and hopes she will come rescue her
-yaororozu-san (Ichiro) is Yaomomo's uncle and has no kids, so he spoils (Y/n) like a princess (and sometimes Kai)
-Kai respects Yaororozu-san and is actual on good terms with him but for some reason, can't fully trust him
-Hawks convinced the HPSC to give him permission to recommend (Y/n) by making a dangerous deal (uh-oh, look out for that!)

Chapter Text

'Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Well, I've been afraid of changin'
'Cause I've built my life around you...'
-Landslide, Fleetwood Mac

"You're still awake?"

(Y/n) lifted her head off the sofa's armrest and blankly met Kai's questioning gaze. It was currently three in the morning, a normal time any slayer would continue their duties. She regarded him with a shrug and sniffled, gaze lazily focusing on the television. "Couldn't sleep."

This was an old K-drama (Y/n) had yet to finish. For the past three hours, she had remained rooted as the screen displayed a life she would never live. The main character knelt in a sunny meadow, tears streaming down her face as her lover fell to the ground, dead. She began to sob and (Y/n) felt her eyes prick painfully with memories of her own beloved. Persimmon eyes, a gentle smile, warm hands.

The screen suddenly blinked out with a click.

"Hey," (Y/n) snapped. "What was that for?"

Kai flicked on the living room lights for extra effect. "Go to sleep," he sandwiched a folder under his arm, "just because you don't go to school doesn't mean you can stay up until dawn."

(Y/n) leaned further into the coach with a sniffle. Why should she go to bed early? She spent the last four years awake from dusk till dawn, why should she stop now? It was the last bit of life she could remember, the last piece of purpose she had left in her worthless being.

Slowly, Kai's long tangent came to a quiet stop. He set the folder down on the table and took a few steps forward, peering forward to meet (Y/n)'s eyes. She glanced up at him, a cold glare twisting upon her face. "What?" she inquired. "Why are you staring at me for?"

Kai blinked as if he weren't sure if he were imagining it or not. "Are you...crying?"

A month. It had been exactly a month since (Y/n) appeared from the sky and ended up on the national news. Kai never actually let her look at the news articles and videos (he said it was bad for her mental well being), but one time, she caught someone watching a video of it in a convenience store.

(Y/n) was still a Hashira: she did not cry, she did not weep, she did not feel helpless. She was a pillar, a solid foundation for those who needed guidance and support. Why would she cry over a stupid K-drama? It wasn't like her to be so young and foolish, like some school girl. "I'm not crying, NIi-chan." She bowed her head low and subtly wiped at the cold tears on her cheeks. "You're hallucinating. Are you tired?"

"I'm hallucinating? The only one who's tired is you. It's three in the morning and the sun's gonna rise in three hours." Kai pulled down his mask and leaned forward to force (Y/n)'s gaze up. His golden eyes were soft, sad. "There's no point holding it all in."

(Y/n) pulled the blankets close and rested her head back on the sofa's armrest. Tears blurred her vision, where a pit of ice filled her stomach. Kai was too busy with the responsibilities of a Yakuza leader. Maybe he worried about Oyaji, or the Shie Hassaikai whom he was now the Oyabun to. Whatever else he did meant he had little time for her and her problems.

It would only mean being a burden anyway, and that was the last thing (Y/n) wanted to be. She had been gone for too long, why make it harder than it already was for everyone? Besides, her brother had plenty of secrets. It was only fair she kept her own.

Kai took a knee on the floor. "You were crying because that character died. I was watching for a bit while passing, I've never seen you look so upset about a fictional death."

(Y/n)'s eyes burned and her cheeks flared in embarrassment. The cream coloured walls seemed to glare back at her as she stared holes into the drywall, as if it were just as ashamed as her for being so vulnerable. "It's not...it's not that." A rattling breath left her lips. "It's...something else."

Something else (Y/n) didn't want to think about. Every time she saw the midnight sky, she thought of someone. Every time she sat under the wisteria in the yard, she heard someone. The strength to keep going, to pretend everything was okay when it wasn't, kept waning and waning. If Kai kept prodding, kept insisting on listening, then she would surely snap, surely forget how to be calm and how to not cry and how to be strong when she wasn't even close to that--

"(Y/n)," Kai spoke softly like the day he found her in Oyaji's room crying, "it's going to be okay."

'Okay'? It was going to be okay? She wanted to laugh and scream, and cry and shout and tear apart her skin piece by piece. How could anything be alright when her walls were breaking? Surrendering to the truth too dangerous to face? One wrong step could leave her in shambles, fragments of ash only left to the cruel light of dawn. She couldn't face what she already knew, not when her heart ached and bled with pain.

"Nii-chan," --she couldn't bear to raise her voice above a whisper-- "no, it's not."

The couch dipped under Kai's weight as he took a seat and leaned forward on his knees. "How do you know that?" he inquired, lacing his fingers together. "Even the worst storms have to pass, they don't stick around forever."

Maybe in some alternate reality in some far off land that was true. Maybe to the fortunate, the lucky ones, it was possible. To (Y/n)? That was only an old quote Oyaji used to say, an old saying worth nothing to the weight of reality. She heaved in a rattling breath, lungs heavy with ice.

"I'm a Hashira," she choked out, "I shouldn't be c-crying and feeling s-sorry for myself. E-everyone relies on me, b-but I can't even get over t-the fact that I'm alive." She thought of crimson blood upon her hands, the rolling heads and crying demons she decapitated with her very blade that made her so damn unworthy of this life. It was a precious thing she did not deserve when her friends were much more pure, much more deserving.

And then the words finally slipped from (Y/n)'s tongue like a shivering blizzard.

"I want to die, okay? Is that too much to ask for?!" She gripped the sheets tight, hot, angry tears blinding her vision. "And I should have that dawn! We killed Kibutsuji...and...and when I thought I-I'd be free, I came b-back. Alive."

She thought of the lonely nights spent watching the stars, the quiet mornings so peacefully wrong.

"I served my purpose, I did my duty! So why? Why am I still here?"

Kai stood and grabbed a tissue box from the table. He pulled out a few tissues and handed it to (Y/n). "You make yourself sound like a villain. What makes you think you should die?"

It was obvious, really, but Kai wouldn't have known. Not when he wasn't there for those long, hard four years bound to death itself. He never saw the blood staining (Y/n)'s cheeks, the anger searing her heart black. "You don't understand," she cried. "I killed him. Why wouldn't I be a terrible person?"

Kai searched for answers he knew would never be found. "Him? Who was he?"

"My everything," she smiled tearfully, "and his name was Akaza." There was a fire in (Y/n)'s eyes, a faint flame that ignited in her hollow golden hues so weak it could have been only a dying ember. Yet when she finally met Kai's eyes, he understood this sadness--this grief.

Sick. Kai was sick to his stomach. He didn't like that look in (Y/n)'s eyes, or the way she tried to hide her sobs as if she were held at gunpoint. Not when it reminded him of the girl in the basement with eyes red as blood, not when she wasn't supposed to look so broken, so hurt and battered that it made him want to end her misery for her.

"(Y/n)," Kai sucked in a sharp breath, "if you want to die, then why are you still alive?"

She began to cry as if her life depended on it. There were things she could not say, things she refused to speak of, and one of those things were the reason she said 'yes'. It would have been easy to throw away her life, easy to simply die when she had forsaken her life with Kai so long ago.

So why was she still alive?

Because she simply couldn't say no.

That day where the autumn breezes fluttered into that stale hospital room, she looked into Hawks's amber eyes and saw herself. He tried to be strong because that was who a hero should be. Reliable, responsible, and respected. What kept him going wasn't his need to be a hero, but a dream (a wish) he kept deep in his heart.

Long ago, ages before (Y/n) woke up in the present, she had been the same. A young, stupid girl hoping to extinguish the evil that roamed through the night. She prayed for the day of harmony beside the one boy who stole her heart, and what happened? She was crushed. Beaten to the point of death.

And oh, if Hawks were like her, she was sure he would do the same--die for the sake of his dream.

"I-I promised someone," (Y/n) stammered. "It was...something I c-couldn't turn down."

"...The HPSC will take over your literal life." Hawks grimly stated. "I can't let them do that to you. Not when you actually have a chance at something better."

This wasn't about (Y/n) and her need to have her hands cleansed. It was about what pain she had caused to someone she hadn't previously met. When Hawks looked at her so earnestly with that grim determination, she summoned what little courage she had and agreed.

Kai pursed his lips tight in thought. He absentmindedly tapped his gloved hands together, gaze distant and far away in thought. "Do you want some tea?" (Y/n) shook her head, but he went into the kitchen anyway. The sink squeaked as a pot filled with water.

It was suddenly too quiet for (Y/n)'s liking. She hated when it was silent because it meant only one thing was sure to fall upon her: Death. The seconds ticked by on the wall clock before turning into minutes. One by one, she watched the time fly by until it made her skin crawl and her breath hitch. She didn't want to be alone.

"Nii-chan," (Y/n) quietly called. "You're taking too long."

Kai quickened up his pace and dutifully reappeared, two steaming cups of tea in hand. "I'm here," --he took a seat back on the sofa and handed one to (Y/n)-- "I brought you chamomile." The fragrant scent filled her senses as she accepted the cup. It was hot enough to make her fingers go numb, but that was okay. It made her feel warmer.

Kai blew on his tea and took a sip before hissing. "It's too hot," --he took (Y/n)'s cup and set it on the table beside his-- "I don't want you burning yourself."

Warmth filled (Y/n)'s chest as Kai gave a tug on her blankets and tossed it over his legs. She glanced at him and he shrugged. "It's cold tonight."

"Yeah," she agreed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Winter is coming soon." Kai was warmer than she remembered, but maybe it was because of the adrenaline from burning his poor lip. "You know...I met someone I really, really liked in the Taisho Era. I would have died from frostbite if not for him."

"Akaza?"

"Mhmm." (Y/n) mumbled. "He taught me how to fight, but we later got separated because Kibutsuji was out to kill me. I didn't want to leave, but Akaza made me, and then I later joined an organization to fight demons." She paused, rubbing at the fresh tears blurring her vision. "I-I thought about you, Hari, Oyaji, and Eri all the time and how I-I'd never s-see you again, and...and how y-you probably b-blamed yourself."

Kai sighed. "I did, but you must have blamed yourself too, right?" (Y/n) buried her face in her sleeve with a shaky nod. Of course she did, every single day. "Yeah. Akaza...he was there for me. But...when h-he needed me most, I-I killed h-him. I..." She choked back a freshly pained sob, wailing between the words stuck in her throat and the memories that replayed like broken records.

A sweet, loving smile. Soft, warm lips against hers. A head that withered to ash between her fingertips.

"I-I'm sorry." (Y/n) mumbled. "S-sorry." But sorry didn't explain the heavy weight on her shoulders, or the ice that made her stomach grow cold and her fingertips numb. She tried to sit up and turn away, but Kai wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. It was like when they were kids: cold, hungry, and desperate in the dead of winter.

"You don't have to be sorry for anything." Kai quietly said. "Did Akaza love you?"

"Mhmm..."

"Tell me, why did you kill him?"

"He...he asked me to." (Y/n) choked out. "I-it was his...h-his last wish."

Kai hummed in understanding, smoothed out her tangled hair. "Then don't be sorry. He wouldn't want you dead after all that."

That didn't matter, not when she couldn't find herself stepping forward with a burning fire in her heart. So what if Akaza would prefer her to live a fulfilling life? So what if she shouldn't have to apologise? Nothing would ever matter, ever amount to any worth when in the end, it was all the same.

Because...because...

"It hurts." (Y/n) said. "And I don't know how long I can handle that pain."

"I know it does, but sometimes, we all have to do the wrong things to straighten out the rights." He paused, gaze falling to his gloved hands. "Quirks are a shadow of our personalities and we both possess the ability to destroy and create. If we choose to, we can become whole again. But that's a matter of want. Will you do what it takes to rebuild what's been destroyed?"

(Y/n) didn't have an answer, and thankfully, Kai didn't expect one. He gave her hair a firm ruffle and began to sip his tea. She mimicked him, ignoring the way her hollow reflection dared to stare back. Before she could dwell on the thought too long, Kai caught her gaze and tried for a minuscule smile. It was a little awkward, as if he weren't sure what to do with himself, but the sentiment was real. He still cared (more than anything) about her well-being, and if it meant being vulnerable, so be it.

Kai hadn't disappeared, he had only been slumbering in wait. He was still the same boy who went around picking fights with classmates who insulted the Hassaikai, the same boy who shared meat buns with her at the convenience store, the same boy who she fought tooth and nail beside on the streets.

"I missed you a lot." (Y/n) set her cup down and leaned back on the couch, closing her eyes. "But pretend I didn't tell you that."

Kai couldn't help but snort. "Alright," he closed his eyes, too, "I didn't hear a thing."

Warm, yellow light flooded the dark room as Kai opened the door. He stepped inside, digging his feet into the smooth tatami under his socks. "It's currently four in the morning," he quietly said, pausing by the bedside. "But I really wanted to talk to you before I went back to sleep."

A wry sigh escaped his lips as he fiddled with the sheets and tucked them in. He thought of those long nights where he couldn't sleep and Oyaji would stay up to read from a collection of legends. Kai hadn't been young enough to entertain himself with ideas of man-eating creatures and swordsmen. They were fiction then, make-believe and pretend.

"It's stupid to say that anything is possible, but maybe for once I'll choose to believe it." Kai clenched his fists by his side, frowning. "(Y/n) lived through everything I thought was legend and it's left her a different person." The very look in those same golden eyes were duller than his own, dead with emptiness that stretched as far as an ocean. It hurt to look at. To acknowledge.

"(Y/n) wants to die." Kai confessed. "She hasn't decided to kill herself yet, but that only means there's a chance she could give up tomorrow." The heart monitor beeped in response, its monotonous song grating against his ears. "She prefers to lie about being fine than admit. It makes me mad."

Quiet nights, forgotten smiles, and that subtle fear of letting him out of her sight for too long. He understood now. (Y/n) was scared of losing those she loved dearly. She didn't mind being alone, but every now and then needed reassurance that no one would leave. It was her way of knowing they were still there, alive.

(Unlike Oyaji who lay in a coma, silent and still.)

Taking him apart and putting him back together with Overhaul had been a challenge, but after experimenting and researching biology for so long, it wasn't impossible. This necessary evil was meant to be and come to pass. How else would Kai bring back glory for the Shie Hassaikai? Repay Oyaji?

An odd pain filled Kai's chest. He thought of (Y/n), who he had carried to her room before coming here.

"Nii-chan," --her voice trembled-- "why...why didn't you say anything?"

That evening had been a surprise. (Y/n) wasn't supposed to go MIA in the Compound after a short game of shogi and a late arrival home. She wasn't supposed to check on Oyaji's room after hearing that Kai needed to run out for an hour on errands. Another pang filled Kai's heart. He placed a hand to his chest, listened to the ramming beat of his own heart.

"(Y/n) said she still wants to be a hero." Kai stared down at his gloved hands. They threatened to buckle and tremble without reason. "She never looks happy anymore and I don't know how I can help. She said she killed someone she loved. As sickening as it is, he must have meant a lot to make her not want to get out of bed."

The heart monitor kept beeping steadily. It was a welcome calm to the static in Kai's mind. There was no one to judge him, no one to scorn him, because the only person in this room that could speak was him.

"I'll make sure (Y/n) goes back to normal, so you won't have to worry, Oyaji."

(Y/n) decided that this would be the last time she woke up early for the week. After crying so much, her face was puffy and her eyes all red-rimmed and tired. Her skin looked waxy and sunken in, and Hari even noted that it looked like she hadn't slept in ten days.

He was shocked to find out he was right.

The shop smelled of oiled paper and wood (like IKEA). Each shelf was neatly lined with pretty packages containing starter kits or parts for traditional Japanese weapons. Hari checked the time on his phone before slipping it into the pocket of his raincoat. He hadn't ditched the full-face plague mask, but at least he was trying not to scare people away with a single glance.

"You have a budget of six thousand yen," he said. "Don't ask if I have anymore, we're a bit tight on cash." That wouldn't be the first time (Y/n) heard. She wasn't sure where all the funding went since Oyaji's old finance assistant had disappeared to who-knows-where. Kai claimed he didn't need help with it, but maybe that was because he didn't want to tell her who he replaced the old guy with.

(Y/n) waved Hari off and made her way down an aisle. It was a little shop, but not small enough to feel cramped. "I don't need much. The highest price should be about four thousand, anyway." A snort came from Hari and he held up a package no larger than a jewelry box. "Are you sure about that?"

A big, red tag read, 'Only 4,000 yen! Includes everything you need to clean a katana!'.

"You're kidding," (Y/n) felt her jaw slacken, "that must be inflation." Hari scanned over the description on the back, shaking his head. "Yeah, inflation over the course of a century."

A century. Had it really been that large of a time skip? To think only a month ago, (Y/n) could have been walking the streets of some lonely village in her uniform awaiting the next chance to pounce on those in the night. She could have been lounging in a kimono in the Rengoku estate, talking to Senjuro over a hot cup of tea.

And to think only a month ago, she could have been dead under the red light of dawn.

Oh, but Hari didn't know that. In fact, he didn't need to know. Sometimes, ignorance was bliss, and to live under a rock, a blessing in disguise. There was no need to subject Hari to the stresses of her past and the woes of her future. It could wait until the time was right, until she was sure he could take it. "Now that you mention it, that is a long time," (Y/n) muttered. "It also so happens that this brand was established in nineteen hundred."

Behind that full-face mask it was hard to meet Hari's eyes. He seemed to be looking through her, as if his mind had transcended this very plane of existence. "What do you mean by that?" He shifted from foot to foot, hands stiff at his sides. "You make it sound like you're the same age."

Well, maybe, in the back of (Y/n)'s mind, she was. Her life had flashed before her eyes many times, only to prove her absolutely wrong when she stood up time and time again. Alive. She had seen too much, said enough. "This is all I need, thanks Hari." He sent her a look but followed her to the cashier desk anyway.

It was a charming old thing, scrapped and worn from years of use. The glass display case underneath the desk had been scratched up so that the surface turned cloudy, and it seemed that no matter how many times the owner wiped it clear, it would not fade out.

On the back wall stood a painting caked in dust. The portrait itself was clear and well preserved, yet neglected from years of ownership. An old man waddled out from the back of the store, pushed his glasses up his nose with an amiable smile. "I usually don't get customers so early in the morning," he said, taking a seat, "this all? There are some straw mats in the back. Doesn't hurt to stock up, it'll make your Sensei happy, no?"

(Y/n) ripped her gaze from the painting and shook her head. "No, thank you. This is all." As the old man rang up the item, her gaze wandered back to the painting. A woman with milky skin and lavender eyes stood in the middle of a field in a white dress. Her brown hair fluttered in the breeze as she stared into the darkness of night. This woman, (Y/n) knew her. But how could this painting stand on the wall? The Demon Slayer Corps died with history and became only legend, including the contributors in the Battle Until Dawn.

The cash register clicked and Hari pulled out his wallet with a short sigh. "Inflation is a pain," he grumbled under his breath. "Everything was a third of this price two years ago."

The old man chuckled, a grin rising to his lips. "I may be old, but I'm not deaf, kid. That'll be five thousand two-hundred yen."

"Sir, this is a sale item. It's four thousand yen."

"Huh," the old man chuckled, "guess you were paying more attention than I thought."

The motherly face seemed to stare back at (Y/n) as she took the bag off the counter. She turned to leave, but before she could take a step out of the door, the old man called her back.

"Wait," he adjusted his glasses and stood, "what dojo are you from?"

(Y/n) pursed her lips tightly. Where was this question coming from? Was this guy old and bored, or did he possess a natural interest in things that had nothing to do with him? "Dojo? I'm...more of a self-taught learner." she said. "A friend of mine was kind enough to teach me."

The old man folded his arms across his chest, knitted his brows. "Hmph, well my son runs a dojo not too far from here, about a fifteen minute drive. He teaches the Soryu Style martial art, but I'm sure you don't have an inkling--"

"Oh, the Soryu Style?" This old man thought she wouldn't be smart enough to know the only hand-to-hand style she still practiced? In her dull, golden hues, a faint light sparked to life. "I was also taught that by a dear friend. He had to be one of the best martial artists in all of Japan for hand-to-hand combat." The old man huffed, a smirk rising to his lips. "You're confident, kid. What makes ya say that?"

Besides the fact that Akaza had three hundred years to train his mind, body, and soul? He was a good teacher with the right amount of patience and a balanced sense of discipline. There was no doubt, he was always number one in (Y/n)'s heart. "My friend was not only a fighter, but an artist. He understood the Soryu Style like no other I've seen and honed every aspect to perfection."

A wide grin rose to the man's lips. "Hah!" He slapped his knee in delight. "Swing by my son's dojo sometime. If not, come back again, you might run into Keizo around noon since he brings me lunch. He has a son 'bout your age. Spar with them both sometime, I'd like to see what your friend passed on to ya!"

(Y/n) inclined her head. She wasn't sure if she'd accept the offer, but it was good for networking. Perhaps this meeting could come in handy, she thought. "That would be an honour. Thank you, Ojii-san, have a wonderful week." The man waved a hand heartily. "Of course, kid! My name's Soyama Hayate."

"Then thank you, Soyama-san."

As (Y/n) bowed once again and walked out the door. Hari followed suit in perfect step, gaze flickering from her to the ground. "I didn't know you knew hand-to-hand combat." He sounded offended. "What else can you do?"

There were plenty of things (Y/n) could and couldn't do. Ice Breathing, Flame Breathing, and two separate forms of Sun Breathing (Hinokami Kagura). It was something she absolutely begged Tanjiro to teach her for weeks, but before she could learn all forms, the Final Battle came upon the horizon.

"I could show you some of my katana skills some time," she decided. "And maybe give you a taste of the training I've undergone, if you can survive." Hari's steps slowed and he thought long and hard, weighing his options. Was this a good idea? In theory. Did it mean he had to sacrifice his well-being? Probably. Knowing (Y/n), she wouldn't take the easy route. It was an old habit of working harder instead of smarter.

"Go easy on me," Hari stated. "I want to live to see you graduate high school." A spark lit up (Y/n)'s eyes, a faint glow of fire that brought life to her golden hues. "Deal."

A sleek, white SUV parked in front of the store as the two made their way to their car. They exchanged plans for tomorrow, arranging a schedule for the so-called 'training session'. Even with the mask covering his face, (Y/n) knew Hari was grimacing in regret. That was too bad for him, he agreed after all, and she wasn't going to be the most lenient (for her own enjoyment).

A man in a martial arts uniform stepped out of the SUV. "Can you get your Jii-san's lunch?" he inquired. A boy slipped out of the backseat and pulled out a wrapped bento. "Right here."

(Y/n)'s ears perked up. She paused, gaze rising to the boy with the bento. He rummaged in his gym bag for something, mumbling briefly about 'Koyuki snooping' in his stuff for a hair tie. The man called him over and the boy tossed his bag into the backseat with a huff.

"Coming, coming!" he exclaimed. "You walk too fast, dad."

The 'dad' ruffled the boy's ebony hair with a grin. "You're just too slow. Did you lose something?" The boy shook his head. "Koyuki put her hair ties in my bag again and now I can't find my tissues." As if on cue, he sneezed. "I better not be getting sick."

The two made their way inside and door closed with a tiny ring.

(Y/n) stood rigidly still, heart hammering against her chest. It was as if the air were vibrating. It made her fingertips tingle with warmth and her body feel...light. At ease. But how could some random stranger feel so familiar, so nostalgic like the painting of Tamayo-oba?

"What are you looking at?"

(Y/n) shook her head, sliding into the backseat with a sigh. "I don't know, I thought I saw something." She closed the door and it snapped shut. Hari tapped his fingers to the steering wheel, grey eyes clouding over in thought. He seemed to stare at nothing, yet everything. "Who was the lady in the painting?"

Sorrowful eyes a field of lavender, a soft, motherly smile, and a hand that healed with love. It would be a disservice to her heroic sacrifice not to mention her name. "I met Tamayo-oba and her assistant, Yushiro-oji, about two years ago."

Hari shifted in his seat to meet (Y/n)'s gaze. "'Aunt' and 'uncle'? Were they that close to you?" Something between a sigh and a chuckle escaped her lips. "They saved my life, and whenever I needed them, they were always there for me." She paused and leaned her head back. "That painting could have been a photograph, it was too realistic."

"Who were they?"

(Y/n) gave Hari a look. "Do you really wish to know?"

"Yes."

(Y/n) paused. If she kept her secrets hidden forever, they would die and be thrown under the rug as legends. To forget such deathly bloodshed, such sorrow? It was unthinkable. "They were demons." she confessed. "I'm sure Nii-chan already figured out the rest of the story by now. Ask him what he thinks about it." Hari removed his mask, knitted his brows. "I'd rather hear it from you, not your brother."

Oh, great, he was pulling that card to make her feel bad? She tutted, gaze focusing on the passing cars by the street. "I don't feel like talking about it."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to."

Hari sat still, continuing to drum his fingers on the steering. He had yet to turn the car on. "You're scared." he said, brows knitting. "Because you don't want to remember what happened." (Y/n)'s grip tightened around the bag in her arms. Scared? No, never. A Hashira did not fear, did not hide, did not cower. She was a pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps. A strong, reliable being who people leaned upon in need. Besides, she chose to speak about her past in memorial to those who died. What about such courage meant fear?

"I'm not scared." (Y/n) passively stated. "I just...I don't want to talk about it yet, okay?" Hari gave her a long-lasting stare, as if it would make all the answers sprout from her lips. He searched her face, watched the way her eyes became glossy and red.

He nodded in understanding, "Then when you're ready, tell me. I'm always here to listen, nothing's changed between us." He started up the car and it gave a low rumble. "I know Kai feels the same." As he pulled out of the parking lot and into the streets, (Y/n) remained still as a block of ice. She clenched the fabric of her haori tight.

"You aren't helpless, much less weak." Akaza had said. "I mean it."

(Y/n) leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. She wished she could believe his words that struck her heart as true. It was true, once, but that was before she saw the fateful arms of death. "I forgot to tell you and Nii-chan, but I got recommended to U.A., so I don't need to take the entrance exam."

The car gave a lurch to the left and came to a screeching stop at the side of the road. (Y/n)'s eyes snapped open as her head slammed against the back of the passenger seat. She sat up straight, clutching the headrest with wide eyes. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "I didn't have my seat belt on!"

"Which you should have." Hari stated, changing the gears to park. Cars whizzed past as he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned so he could face (Y/n) head-on. "What do you mean you got recommended? What did you do to get into U.A.?" There was a sense of urgency, a sense of terror, leaking into his voice, as if he feared she had done something she would regret.

Which...wasn't wrong, exactly. Not when (Y/n) had the whole HPSC hoping for first dibs on her Quirk. She sighed lowly. All her secrets were being yanked out of her very soul in the past twenty-four hours. "Do you know about Hawks, the number three hero?"

"Everyone knows him," Hari said with a roll of his eyes, "he's a dirty flirt. The first thing that comes up on the internet are always his stupid fan clubs."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes mockingly. "Well, that's the guy who got me into U.A. and was also the one who brought me to the hospital after I was transported back to the present."

Hari's gaze narrowed suspiciously. He had always been a smart guy (as Kai's right hand man) especially prone to picking up on subtle body language (even if he was a 'blockhead'). It so-happened that his smartest moments were in the worst of times.

"You literally just got back to the present," Hari impatiently muttered. "What did you do? There's no way anyone would give you a recommendation letter like that." (Y/n) folded her arms across her chest, gaze rising and falling from anything but the angry worry on his face. "It's nothing, I promise."

"No, you don't." A scowl drove itself to Hari's face. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I'm not moving this car until you tell me what you did. If you run, I'll use my Quirk on you."

Now that was just unfair, ridiculous. What right did he have to do that? Her predicament wasn't that bad, she had it under control lock and key. "I wouldn't have made any agreements if it cost me something of significant value."

"'Agreement'?" Hari echoed. "Who said anything about an agreement?" He didn't like where this was going, much less the lack of information he possessed to keep up. Kai did tell him about how (Y/n) cried about wanting to die, but that didn't add up to her deal with the devil. Knowing her, she was already neck-deep in issues she downplayed as inconveniences. "You can't just tell me stuff without explaining. I need to know what you did and why."

(Y/n) pinched the bridge of her nose. "Hari, it's not that bad, I promise. Don't worry yourself over--"

"Over what?" he seethed. "I'm your friend, (Y/n), of course I'm going to worry about you. You were hit by a car before being thrown back in time by some random villain, and four years later, I find you in the hospital covered in bandages. The doctors said you were even lucky to be alive after all that blood loss, and as you jumped off the bed as if nothing happened, I could only think about how guilty I was for not being able to do anything for you."

He gripped the steering so tight his knuckles went white. He thought of Kai's cries that day in the snow, the high-pitched sound of screeching tires, and the empty seats at the dinner table lonely and resentful.

"Don't you think that's scary? Terrifying?" His eyes glossed over and he sniffled. "I blamed myself for four years! At least Kai could use his Quirk to heal you, but me? I can't do a damn thing but listen as you cry yourself to sleep! Yeah, I heard you. I know that you're sad and angry at yourself--I am too."

Hari paused and roughly rubbed at the wetness in his eyes. He wasn't crying. He wasn't.

"Everything has changed and I can't do anything to help anyone. So please, (Y/n), don't say that it's fine when it's not." He searched her face for answers that would not come. "Don't lie to me like that!"

Lie? (Y/n) wasn't lying, she just wasn't telling the truth. At least not all of it. "I didn't want to worry anyone." Her eyes burned and her heart weighed heavily with guilt. Gosh, she was so stupid. "All my disappearance has caused was pain, and now that I'm back, nothing's going to be the same again."

"That's not true."

"But it is and I didn't want to make things worse. I promise it's nothing bad though. Sure, I made a deal with Hawks for my own protection, and the HPSC took an interest in me after I reappeared, but it's nothing too bad--"

"Nothing too bad?" He rubbed at the tear tracks on his reddened cheeks. "(Y/n), the HPSC are corrupt. Remember Lady Nagant the ex-Pro Hero? You'll end up like her, locked away in Tartarus because you'll do something you'll end up regretting! How is U.A. going to save you from those monsters?"

There really was no way to know for sure, but it was better than being a sitting duck. (Y/n) could die tomorrow for all she cared, waste away and become only fertilizer to the Earth, but things were different after that agreement. She didn't die.

"I choose to trust Hawks," (Y/n) stated. "Can you trust me?"

Hari blew his nose on a Starbucks napkin, eyes red-rimmed and puffy as he sniffled. "What if something happens to you? This is the HPSC, not some random gang of villains. They control society with politics."

"All the more reason why I have to trust Hawks." (Y/n) gave his hand a squeeze. "So, can you trust me, Hari?"

He searched her golden eyes for a guide, her face for answers muddled like watercolour paints. (Y/n) was strong and he saw it as much as he knew it. If she survived all on her own for so long, then perhaps she would be okay. Hari had to believe that, or else he wasn't sure he'd ever drive them both home before dark.

"Alright," he squeezed her hand tight. "I trust you, (Y/n). If anything happens..." She pulled out a tissue and dabbed at his tears, a gentle smile rising to her lips. "I can always come back home. I know."

(Y/n) opened her arms and secured Hari in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry." He leaned into her, sniffling as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry too."

Hari eventually drove home and made ramen for lunch, a new recipe he claimed was from a great chef he once knew (it was actually his uncle's). He smiled wide the whole time, and part of (Y/n) wanted to believe things could stay like this--carefree. Happy. Her heart soared to hear him speak so freely, just like how things used to be long before she had disappeared.

Then Kai came home and Hari put on his mask again. He spoke carefully, consciously about the day, until it came to the conversation in the car.

Kai sat at the dinner table, arms crossed as his gaze languidly drifted between Hari and (Y/n). She slowly ate the rest of her ramen, hoping it could prevent the fated conversation from even beginning. Alas, Kai was a doer and not an idler and decided to get down to business (to defeat the Huns).

"So you got recommended to U.A." he passively stated. "Tell me how this happened." (Y/n) swallowed a mouthful of ramen and nearly choked. Kai handed her a bottle of water and she chugged it to clear her airway. "I was going to tell you, but I wasn't sure when the right time to say was. And to be fair, I was told about a week and a half ago."

Kai didn't look pleased. "That was last month. How did you obtain a recommendation and from who?" (Y/n) stared at her now empty bowl, lips pursed. She recalled the night she cried over some K-drama, how she slowly confessed her secrets one by one, how she couldn't hold her tongue. "Remember when I told you I made a deal with someone?"

Kai sighed tiredly and placed a hand to his temple. "Who was it?"

"Hawks, the number three hero. He wanted to protect me from the HPSC."

Kai's eyes widened. He sat stiff as a board, fingers curled into fists on the table. "You made a deal with a hero?" He paused to think and sighed again, folding his hands together. "He must feel guilty about what happened to the man who sent you to the past. If that's the case, make the most out of this deal. It came with a price."

(Y/n) recalled Hawks telling her about Yamaguchi Haruka, a villain he had been attempting to apprehend. She knitted her brows. If Kai knew about those details, then that could only mean one thing. "Did you contact Giran?"

"What of it?" he dismissively inquired. "I needed information and he delivered. You didn't tell me anything until yesterday night, what else was I supposed to do, wait?" A bitter taste filled (Y/n)'s mouth. Giran was a broker used to obtain information, illegal items, and whatever else anyone could find under the table. He could find just about anything for the right price, save for federal information from the highest organization in the nation.

"How much do you know, Nii-chan?"

"You told me everything yesterday."

(Y/n) frowned wryly. "Before?"

Kai searched her face before saying, "As much as was accessible. I understand now why Giran couldn't get the full report--it was locked by the HPSC's lap dog, Hawks. I won't tell you what to do, but I will tell you to be careful. How do you know he won't betray you for his master? Promises are easily broken, (Y/n). You shouldn't be alive for him."

(Y/n)'s nails dug half moons into her palms, jaw tensed tight. "What are you talking about?" she said. "That isn't true."

Kai's brows raised in challenge. He almost wanted to laugh. "You said you chose to live because you made a deal. What will happen when you're betrayed and left to fend for yourself? The world is cruel, and people are much worse. You should know more than anyone, especially if you're making a deal that relies on your life."

A rush of heat filled (Y/n)'s heart. "Of course I know that!" she shouted. "You make it sound like I'm stupid."

"I never said you were stupid."

(Y/n)'s glare turned ice-cold. Now that was just petty. "I couldn't say no to him, okay? Not when he looked at me like that!" Like he needed help. But she couldn't say that, it would prove Kai right. "You don't understand, Nii-chan, and I don't think you will."

It was silent, save for the ticking of the wall clock. Hari glanced at the time, then glanced at Kai whose gaze narrowed fiercely. "You're right." He sounded too calm, too cool-headed for him not to be angry. "And that's because I don't help people when they ask for it. I don't fulfill other's dreams out of good-faith either and I don't do things because I'm asked to."

Kai stood too, towering over (Y/n) like a skyscraper. "You're living for other people because you don't give a damn about yourself. It's reckless. Idiotic. You say I don't understand, but I do because I'm your brother. I know you." He took (Y/n)'s empty bowl from the table and set it in the sink. "I don't want you getting hurt over something you could have avoided. Or worse, wind up dead. Oyaji would kill me if that happened."

(Y/n) gripped the back of the wooden chair in a vice grip. It threatened to splinter under her strength. "That won't happen. I've faced much worse, Nii-chan."

"And nearly died." Hari quietly chimed in.

(Y/n) kicked his foot and he cried out in pain. "I don't fear the HPSC, they wouldn't go so far as to hunt me down just for recruitment when there are millions of other people with better Quirks." She thought of talented kids in her primary school, the big eighth grader who could shapeshift, and so many more. "You always take things too far."

Kai heaved out a sigh that made his shoulders deflate. He doubtfully frowned and shook his head, the facet squeaking as he turned it on. "How do you know others like that crazy doctor don't exist? They might take you away from me."

Words caught in the back of (Y/n)'s throat. Bright, too-happy stickers, clean beds, hot food. She recalled the nights spent quietly sneaking around the child centre, the staff who called everyone 'family', and her last night that went up in flames.

"Well?" Kai's angry gaze softened. "Do you, (Y/n)?"

She didn't have an answer, and thankfully he didn't expect one.

"If you don't do things for yourself," his golden eyes were clouded in thought, "are you really living?"

Modern Era Secrets!

-Kai is very, very smart and studied the sciences since he was young to make better use of Overhaul
-he taught (Y/n) the basics since she was still young at the time
-Kai has begun to muse every now and then lately. It might be a new habit of his since (Y/n) came back!
-Everyone agrees that Overhaul has become more lenient. The Precepts have no clue why, besides Hari of course!
-Hari is a decent cook. Kai is much better than him and can whip up about anything. He only cooks because (Y/n) likes his food and that makes him happy.
-Kai is a bit mad that (Y/n) fell in love at such a young age
-Kai sucks at comforting people but he is a good listener only to (Y/n) (everyone else can go f themselves lmao, he has no patience for them)
-Hari likes driving (Y/n) to places
-when Hari hears (Y/n) crying in her room alone, he leaves her a box of (favourite food/sweets) with a letter because it was something she used to do for him whenever he was sad

The 'you're right, I don't understand' turned out to be an unintentional callback to a previous chapter (2. acceptance). It reads as following: It was funny, really, a demon and a human so vulnerable--so exposed to one another. "You're right, I don't understand how you feel." He sat down in the fluffy snow and pulled (Y/n) onto his lap. Slowly, he rocked back and forth. "Still, I see how sorrowful you are. I'm a demon, I don't experience sentiment or remorse like you do, but I am not blind. I have seen how tormented you are in your sleep, it bothers me greatly."
Akaza handled the situation much more empathetically. He isn't as hard on (Y/n), unlike Kai who got angry ("You're right. And that's because I don't help people when they ask for it. I don't fulfill other's dreams out of good-faith either and I don't do things because I'm asked to."). Both boys are hard-shelled people. They don't open their hearts easily, but Akaza? He is much more accepting because of his curiosity (unlike Kai, who doesn't let things go easily).

Chapter Text

Fastidious: Attentiveness regarding cleanliness or detail; meticulous

The doctor was a peculiar man. He had a round tummy, a large mustache, and big goggle-like glasses that glinted ominously in the too-white lights. The doctor had a set routine. Every four days, he visited the childcare centre (as he called it) in the morning, stayed to speak to those that interested him, and then read over everyone's documents before leaving.

(Y/n) only knew about that last past because she accidentally eavesdropped with Kai while on the way to their shared room.

The orphanage wasn't crowded, but it wasn't empty either. Children usually swarmed the halls during meal and playtime, or ran through the various rooms laughing their heads off. It was a happy place, one where joy shone like the sun.

Behind those smiles were lies. The caretakers knew, the one maid working around the clock knew, and so did the other staff claiming to be volunteers. They were all in on it, they had to be. Why else would they insist on calling such a disgustingly happy place 'home'?

The earliest memories (Y/n) could recall in that damned orphanage were those spent in a warm room with central heating and bowls of hot rice. Life was good, or as good as any naive child could call it. The place wasn't even regulated (how else did the government allow the building to be in such an oddly hidden location in the quiet side of town?).

"This is your new home now," one of the staff had said. He had a mutant Quirk that made his face look like a literal sunflower. Harmless, really, yet slightly terrifying with the way his 'stache protruded from just under his flat nose. "Think of everyone here as family!"

That was how the first day went. It was easy to see how overbearing the staff were in order to provide a false sense of comfort. (Y/n) ended up hiding in a lone corner of the room beside Kai, head pressed against his shoulder as he read a book about Quirk Theory and biology. It wasn't something anyone else was interested in, yet the whole bookshelf was filled with the topic.

After a while, it became rather questioning, but it wasn't really that concerning. Not like either of the siblings would know better. The most they could grasp was the fact that this place had a lot of science books.

"(Y/n), don't you think it's weird they brought us here?" Kai quietly muttered. "We've been wandering this town for a while now and I didn't even know this place existed." She eyed the children playing on foam mats and giggling like there wasn't a care in the world. One of the staff knelt beside them, reminding the children to be careful with their 'powerful Quirks'.

"I don't know," (Y/n) whispered quietly. "The people look nice."

"Exactly." Kai agreed. "Too nice. Where does this place get its funding? I feel like I've seen another one of these shelters in the town over." (Y/n) wracked her brain for answers. "Hm...the one back by that abandoned corner store?"

"Exactly."

"Hmm, it is kinda weird." (Y/n) decided. She opened her mouth to say something else, but a staff member walked forward and motioned for them both to join the other children. "Why don't you come play with them? It's okay to use your Quirks as long as you don't hurt anyone."

Quirks. That word seemed to be used far too liberally. (Y/n) sent a glance to Kai and he snapped the book shut. "Don't tell anyone what we talked about," he whispered before standing. "Come on." He linked hands with her and they both shuffled over to a group of kids playing Uno. The game turned out to only be the bare minimum of exciting, with the other kids competing for some invisible prize.

A pair of eyes were glued to (Y/n)'s back. When she turned to find whose stare burned, she saw the sunflower guy with a nurse speaking in hushed voices. Kai followed her gaze, pursing his lips tight. "Don't stare."

"But--"

"Play Uno. I know it's boring, but we don't have a choice. What if they don't feed us today?"

(Y/n) reluctantly played Uno. She knew the staff weren't so cruel as to deny them food, but it was still a possibility. The game wasn't hard to play considering it was literally called 'Uno' (one in Spanish). It could have been fun, but those stares refused to leave her back. Whenever (Y/n) turned to see who stared at her, all she saw were the staff smiling at her encouragingly, as if they were glad she were playing this useless card game.

"Nii-chan."

"I know." he agreed in a hushed whisper. "It's almost lunch time." The long-suffering game ended when one of the younger kids, Ella, threw a temper tantrum over who had a Wild Card. The sunflower guy made his way over with a friendly smile. "Don't cry, it's just a game." He began gathering the cards. "Here, let's clean up, we can always play again after lunch..."

Kai stood and (Y/n) set the cards down before following. Before she could make her way to the hall, the sunflower guy caught her arm by the wrist. "Where are you going, (Y/n)-chan?" He held her wrist a little too tightly. "Lunch is going to start after we meet with the Doctor."

A shiver threatened to itch down (Y/n)'s spine. She forced a bright smile to her lips, something so naive and stupid it could have won her an Oscar. "Of course! I just needed to go get something from my room."

"With your brother?" the sunflower guy inquired, raising a brow. "He can stay here." Kai coldly stared at the man's face as if he were dirt on his sock. "She wanted me to come with her since she doesn't like being alone." He intertwined a hand with (Y/n)'s and led her out of the room. All the while, Mr. Sunflower kept his gaze tacked to their backs.

When they turned a corner, (Y/n) let out a short sigh. "He's creepy." Kai gave her hand a comforting squeeze, gaze wandering through the empty rooms. When a staff member passed by, he made sure to avoid eye contact. "I don't like him either. He's weird, too pushy."

"Who don't you like, I'd wonder?" inquired a cheerfully light voice. "If there's a problem you have with any of the staff, I'll be sure to tell them."

(Y/n) thought her heart might stop. The air had changed, grown heavy with danger. It pierced her back and made her fingertips tingle in warning. They had been caught. Busted. Would they be thrown out, locked in a room, or tortured to death? It was what people on the streets would do, what villains found pleasure in. Her gaze met Kai's as they turned to face the new adversary.

Kai tensed despite the stoic expression and (Y/n) followed his example. She stared up into those round goggles the doctor always wore. It glinted ominously in the white industrial lights. He stood tall with his hands behind his back like some supreme leader, and perhaps in this accursed orphanage, he was. This very hall was his throne room, his very castle that he visited (every four days).

And it so happened the reason was the Chisaki siblings.

"Hi, doctor." (Y/n) politely greeted. "How are you doing?" Changing the subject did wonders for the Doctor. He seemed to forget what he asked only seconds ago. "I've been very well, thank you, (Y/n)-chan." The air seemed to grow lighter, warmer. "You and your brother are always together, why don't you play with the other kids?"

"I don't like playing Uno."

The doctor placed a hand to his chin, but (Y/n) wasn't stupid, she knew he wasn't actually thinking. He was only pretending. "Well, you can always try a different game. There's also the boy who might wake up soon, so you could have a new friend." He paused, running a hand though his mustache. "No need to be all vinegar, we don't want to scare him away with that look on your face, right?"

(Y/n) forced a childish smile to her lips and laughed bashfully. "Oh, I guess not." The doctor pinched her cheek like the old man he was, but it could have been like a pair of pliers slapped her across the face. "And you Kai-chan, there'll finally be a boy around your age." Kai didn't look pleased with that revelation. It wasn't in his interest to make friends in a crazy nuthouse of staff who smiled and said 'family' so often you'd think they were being held at gunpoint.

"That's nice." Kai lied. "We're going to go now." He pulled her along and the doctor stayed rooted in place, adjusting his goggles curiously. When they turned a corner, a scowl twisted at Kai's lip. "He's creepy."

"He's a doctor."

"Then a creepy doctor," Kai offered, tutting. "He keeps asking about our Quirks, too. What about everyone else? What's wrong with him?" (Y/n) didn't know, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to. She wasn't necessarily as perceptive as Kai, but she sensed the odd way the air changed whenever the doctor appeared. It was gratifying, like a black hole that swallowed everything in its path.

The nauseatingly bright walls grew grey the farther (Y/n) and Kai walked. The curtains were drawn here, so the only source of light were the overheads above. An odd presence tickled (Y/n)'s side. It was hot, like a boiling vat of lava burning into her very skin. She tugged on Kai's hand and he stopped. "What?"

"Do you feel that?" she inquired, golden eyes wide. Kai glanced around the hall for a source. The thermostat was off and the central heating had been cut for the day (it was how the doctor preferred it). "Feel what?"

The door at the end of the hall was open by a crack and it squeaked on its hinges, probably from a draft. (Y/n) squeezed Kai's hand, shoulders tensing. Whatever stood on the other side made her skin itch and crawl with the dregs of hatred. "Who's over there?"

Kai shook his head and dragged (Y/n) down a hall to the right. "I don't know. Come on."

Thoughts of that room at the end of the hall followed (Y/n) throughout the day. Nothing seemed to interest her, not even the fact that the doctor requested her to come with him, alone, to meet someone next Sunday. That was, until Kai flat-out refused.

"No." he stated. "Wherever she goes, I go."

The doctor ran a hand over his mustache, blinked owlishly in surprise. "It'd be better if she meets Sensei on her own. He just wants to talk to her." He said it like it was obvious, like there was nothing to fear when there should have been. (Y/n) didn't like the idea of going anywhere on her own. It was natural when the streets moulded her to be inherently suspicious.

And Kai? Well, he wasn't free of such philosophies either. He kept a firm hand on (Y/n)'s shoulders and pressed her into his side to hide her. "You're not taking her anywhere without me." The doctor gave Kai a long, hard look. He refused to back down from the challenge, refused to admit defeat.

"That's fine then." The doctor folded his hands behind his back with a casual chuckle. "I'll see you tomorrow, take care you two." As he made his way back into the main room, a bitter frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips. It seemed that whenever the doctor came around, the air got heavier, thicker like glue. Kai placed a hand to her head and ruffled her hair. "Don't worry about it, I won't let him take you." He tucked a book under his arm and started down the hall. "And if he does, you know what to do."

Later that day, (Y/n) found herself at the fork in the halls again. She stared at the door open just a crack so temptingly close. Her feet moved before she could think and her fingers curled around the doorknob. It was hot, with that prickly feeling nipping at her side like needles.

(Y/n) opened the door.

A boy with snow white hair and patchy skin laid on the bed, asleep like a dead man. Mr. Sunflower was right, he looked about Kai's age, but just a little taller. Fresh scars and bandages aligning the boy's body, probably from a recent surgery, and he looked half-dead, barely alive on his own pure will. "You must be that kid Mr. Sunflower was talking about, the one in the coma." (Y/n) gave his shoulder a tap, just to make sure. The boy did not stir. "What happened to you?"

And what made him so angry? she thought, frowning.

Every now and then, (Y/n) found herself back in the room with the sleeping boy. She talked to him about anything and everything to pass the time, to distract herself from the obvious pains of this cardboard house. Sometimes Kai came along, just to make sure she wouldn't do something stupid, but most times, she was alone.

"My Nii-chan's reading about medicine," (Y/n) said. "I'm trying to study, but it's hard and I'm not good at it like him. I've never used my Quirk to heal people and some things are hard to remember, but I want to try. Maybe I can help you besides healing your scars. The doctor keeps coming back and wants me to meet 'Sensei' alone, though. I don't know who that is, but I don't want to see him."

The boy remained still, lifeless yet alive, in the bed. A cool autumn breeze fluttered through the window, filling the room with the scent of damp soil and dead leaves. "This place is too nice to be true." (Y/n) rested her head in her arms at the edge of the bed with a sigh. "We haven't left yet because we don't know how we'll make it on the streets again."

The door opened with a low creak and (Y/n) didn't need to look to know who it was, there was no one else who walked so quietly yet loudly at the same time. "You're still here?" Kai inquired. "He's not going to wake up for a while."

"I know, but I wondered if he was lonely."

Kai flipped through a book, golden eyes passively flickering through the table of contents. "You know people in comas can hear you, right?" he inquired. "He'll remember most things we say when he wakes up." (Y/n) gave Kai a nudge in the side. That was exactly why she spent her time in here instead of playing Uno all day or hide and seek. "Did you find anything? If he stays like this, he'll become a vegetable and die."

"People don't wake up from comas easily," Kai chided, "if we do try anything, it'll have to be with Overhaul. He could end up transfigured and die, so that's why we have to make sure we know what we're doing." All this talk of death made (Y/n) let out a long, irritated groan. "Then what can we do?"

Kai shook his head and said, "Nothing but wait."

Waiting did not last long. Two days later, the boy woke up and the only thing (Y/n) could remember was the colour of blood and the scent of burning wood. Kai told her they both had killed some people to escape, but she couldn't remember, couldn't recall, why or how it happened.

The only thing she clearly remembered was the frantic look of panic in a pair of electric blue eyes. He had said something that must have meant the world, because as he stepped into a burst of searing flames, tears rolled down his cheeks.

---

It was chilly. November was pulling to a steady close and (Y/n) wished she could have been happier. The scent of pumpkin flavored foods and drinks, apple cider, and the dead leaves crunching under her feet. were some of her favourite parts of this season. It was what made autumn so beautiful in its fleeting nature. Could she be the same? Brilliantly beautiful in her last moments of departure?

"Where's Eri?" The question fell from (Y/n)'s lips with a bitter taste, an impatience she couldn't mask under ice. "It's been nearly two months and I haven't seen her once." Hari shifted uncomfortably on the park bench and handed (Y/n) a steaming piece of taiyaki. "I'm not sure."

There was an aching feeling in (Y/n)'s gut. She bit into the taiyaki and sighed as leaves blew around her warm boots. "Are you sure?"

"Ask Kai, he might know."

(Y/n) scowled. If Hari didn't have an answer, Kai would (if he were honest)? Secrecy was his new best friend, much like the fact that neither wanted (Y/n) in the basement. Then there were the vague 'menial tasks' both Hari and Kai did in their time away throughout the day. None of those questions were answered.

There was no point in asking anymore, but was she one to give up? Nope. Not at all.

The brown paper bag crinkled as Hari took out the last piece of taiyaki and bit into it. "Before we go home, we have to buy groceries."

And so began a pit stop to the supermarket. By the time they finished and loaded up the car, only half an hour passed. Very efficient, as Hari liked it, anyway. He was particular like that, much like Kai who did everything like clockwork.

Hari closed the boot and crumpled the list into his pocket. He suddenly paused and pulled out the list again before shaking his head. "I forgot to buy bonito flakes. It wasn't on the list, but I was supposed to get then a while ago." (Y/n) held out a hand. "Give me your card, I'll get them."

A wave of doubt washed over Hari an he pursed his lips tight under his mask. He was probably going to regret this, but with how resigned (Y/n) looked, he didn't have the strength to turn her down. "Be quick, and don't get yourself into trouble."

(Y/n) scoffed. "I'll try."

The market didn't have a parking lot since it was located in the middle of a four way intersection. (Y/n) had to walk at least a block and a half back to the store, which wasn't so bad since she was used to walking enough to make her feet hard and scarred with callouses.

Dirty alleyways glared through the soft rays of afternoon sun. They seemed to glare at her with invisible eyes, trailing after every step she took down the quiet street. (Y/n) glanced over her shoulder. She peered into the alleyway briefly before swiveling around to dodge a rowdy group of teenage boys. They talked loudly and laughed boisterously as they passed.

Rude, thought (Y/n). A dull tingle in her fingertips caused her skin to prickle as she edged along the sidewalk. Maybe she was just paranoid, but shouldn't she know better, as a Hashira? Paranoia was usually a sign that something was bound to happen.

As if on cue, a young man in a long black trench coat staggered against the alleyway walls with a hiss, a flaming hand pressed to his side. The flickering flames were a brilliant blue, electric like the sky during a thunderstorm. The boy paused to heave out a breath and his gaze flickered up to meet (Y/n)'s. He studied her carefully as if she'd pounce, squinting his iridescent eyes.

"Mind offering some help? I did just kick someone in the face for you before getting stabbed." Something between a smirk and a smile rose to his lips. "I'd rather not bleed out in a dirty alleyway and attract attention. It might scare people."

(Y/n) paused at the mouth of the alleyway, hands rigid at her sides. There was something about the man's aura that felt familiar. Close. It seared into her skin as she took a step forward, bubbled like a vat of lava when she stood five paces away. There was a powerful heat of hatred behind his energy that softened when she looked him in the eye.

"Why are you bleeding?" (Y/n) spoke passively, much like her brother. "It's not everyday people wind up in alleyways such as these." The boy chuckled dryly and the flames dispersed. "I'm not bleeding anymore, but I could use something to patch this up, doll."

Whatever 'something' was, (Y/n) did not possess. She thought of the small med kit she used to carry around with her uniform, tucked away in her desk. It would come in handy now, but the only thing on hand was her Quirk. The boy patiently waited, as if he half-expected her to actually help his cauterized wound.

(Y/n) gave him an odd look. "Why should I help you? And what man did you kick in the face?"

The boy leaned further into the wall and motioned to the large trash bins behind him. A pile of drunken men lay face-first in dirty puddles of trash, mumbling and groaning incoherently. It was a good thing too, she didn't need to know what they had in mind.

Curse her good nature, she couldn't say no to the boy. "I can kill you just as easily as I can heal you," (Y/n) coldly announced. "Try anything and the last thing you'll see is your arm severed from your torso." There was a sharp glint in the boy's eyes as he held up a hand in surrender. "Don't worry, I'm not stupid."

That was the least of (Y/n)'s worries as she shook her head in disapproval, gaze flickering to meet the boy's. "Why did you kick that guy in the face for me?" He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were obvious, and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "Besides being wanted by authorities, they were perverts."

Great. So possible stalkers (with an 's') could have been on her tail for who knows what, and if not for this boy, they might've made more than inappropriate moves on her? What did (Y/n) do to deserve all that drama? "I'll fact check that," she said, placing a hand to the boy's darkened skin, "what's your name?"

"Dabi." he simply said. "Just Dabi."

There was a flash of...something in his eyes. It was distant, so far away that it was impossible to grasp. A frown pulled at (Y/n)'s numb expression. She looked 'Dabi' up and down carefully. From the various staples on his charred skin to his exposed chest for the whole world to see (what a way to attract attention). "Dabi means cremation, an interesting choice for an alias. Also, to heal your wound, it's going to hurt a little."

"I've had worse, it's not a big--"

(Y/n) activated her Quirk.

"--fuck! What the hell are you doing, Doll?"

(Y/n) raised a brow in challenge. She did warn him. "Fixing your wound."

"Damn," Dabi sucked his teeth, "that hurts."

Pieces of flesh reattached themselves to snap together the darkened skin like LEGO bricks. Each piece fit as a puzzle, a little piece of a whole until (Y/n) was finished. Learning how to hone Overhaul to a higher power had been such a pain. Long hours of memorization, practice, and careful precision had long bloomed, and it was all thanks to Tamayo-oba and Shinobu.

"I did say it would hurt." (Y/n) dully noted. "You're fine now. All I did was reattach your body together. As for the burnt skin, I couldn't do much about that." Dabi's electric eyes met her own languidly, lips pulling into a cool bad-boy grin that made his perfectly straight teeth show. "I'm guessing you can only put things back together?"

"And take apart, but yes."

The grin didn't leave his lips. He looked happy, somehow, relieved even. A part of (Y/n) had a feeling it had less to do with the wound and more to do with her presence. It seemed to make his aura spike up with a subtle warmth of friendliness. "That's cool," Dabi said. "Thanks." He pushed off the wall, long black coat swishing behind him as he turned. "I guess people really don't change, huh?"

(Y/n) didn't have much time to ponder. Dabi stuffed his hands into his pockets and made his way down the alleyway, a slight pep in his step. He looked rather happy for someone who had apparently gotten stabbed or something and then repaired only moments ago.

It was strange the more (Y/n) thought about it through the day. Why would Dabi go out of his way to help her and stay for a bit of small talk and a favour? Even if he acted like he didn't know (Y/n), a gut feeling said otherwise. Nostalgia had flashed in his electric eyes, as if he were looking at an old friend. But maybe it was just paranoia and (Y/n)'s lack of sleep that led her on some wild goose chase.

Besides, never had she ever met someone with that many burns and piercings in her life (and that was saying a lot since she grew up in the Yakuza).

---

Hari had to leave an hour after going to the grocery store, for whatever reason, and took his leave swiftly. A few members of the Hassaikai came in and out every now and then, but they never stayed for long. Strange, wasn't it? They must have gone down to the basement, the one off-limits area Kai had been clear to state. And so (Y/n) settled in the empty living room. Alone.

Thoughts swarmed her mind. After being so focused on self-pity and guilt, she hadn't given her living situation much thought. The basement had always been a familiar extension she and Kai built together to practice Overhaul. Oyaji didn't mind it, so the basement eventually became a place of dealings and hang-out rooms for the Shie Hassaikai.

What could be down there now?

(Y/n) stood from the couch and stretched her limbs. She pulled on a sweater, stuffed her hands into her pockets. It was time to go adventuring, whether Kai liked it or not. To think in her own home, she was but a stranger, a mere obstacle he tried to contain.

Secrets were meant to be let out sometime, weren't they? (Y/n) already revealed her own, so it was time her family did the same. As she sped through the halls with soundless steps, her stomach began to lurch with nausea. She felt the colour drain from her face and a cold emptiness settle deep within her gut as she paused to lean against the wall.

"Chisaki (Y/n)," said a silky voice like oil. "Have you forgotten about me already?"

(Y/n) froze stiff as a board. That voice, it could only be Kibutsuji. But no, that couldn't be possible, it wasn't like he was behind her in this very second. He was dead, long gone to the sun. A hand suddenly clasped (Y/n)'s shoulder, gripping it tight enough to rip through her delicate skin.

Move. Her body had to move. Why couldn't she bear to even breathe?

Even if...even if this were a wild hallucination brought upon by countless nights of restless sleep, it felt as real as the cool floorboards beneath her feet. So true and honest as this harsh, cruel reality. The sharp claws digging into her flesh, the cold breath fanning across her neck, the energy that tore through her soul with such unbridled rage--

"I never died, Little Ice Hashira."

"(Y/n)."

She whipped around and caught the arms ready to rip her to shreds. Her grip was iron-clad as she trembled, golden eyes wide and wild with fear. Kibutusji lived? That was impossible. She saw him disappear, fade from the very depths of Tanjiro's soul! He was dead. Dead--unless he found a way to live...

(Y/n) looked up. A matching pair of eyes, the same golden shade as her own, laid upon her face. "Nii-chan." She released him, knees wobbling together. "W-what are you doing here?" Every last ounce of will had left her entire being, devoured by the darkness that dared consume her in its devilish arms. She was exhausted, distraught with the illusion of what should have been behind her (of what she thought she heard and felt).

It took a moment for the fog to clear from (Y/n)'s mind. "Go away." She took a step to evade Kai's gaze, but her knees violently wobbled. Kai's eyes widened and he caught her by the arms before she could hit the floor. She tried to wriggle out of his hold, but he refused to let her go. "Let's get you to bed." Kai hailed her into his arms and began down the hall. "What happened?"

Like (Y/n) wanted to see him in her most vulnerable moments. She didn't forget what he said to her yesterday, or what he kept implying and rubbing into her face like salt in a wound. "I don't know," she roughly said. "Leave me alone." Kai didn't budge. Instead, he continued down the hall, dragging her along in tow. "You better not be sick or I'm going to be mad at you."

(Y/n) couldn't quite understand what Kai was trying to say. All she knew was that she didn't want to see him and that he was being nice because he felt guilty about being so blunt the other day. Not that it mattered. He played on her insecurities as if it were the same as picking out a box of pencils at the store--with little regard.

What gave Kai the right to act so casual? What even gave him the right to hold her as he did now?

"You're still mad at me?" Kai dumbly inquired. "I was just being honest."

(Y/n) scoffed tiredly. So what? Even if it was honest and thought-provoking, it hurt. Badly. And to make matters worse, she was hallucinating. That hand on her shoulder, the voice like oil, those claws digging into her flesh--it all felt too real not to be true.

"I didn't say anything to be mean," Kai added. "I'm just worried about you."

The lights were a little too bright, a little too blinding as (Y/n) turned to glare. It was a chore to think with the pounding in her head and the phantom voice of that damned demon, the one with eyes red as blood and skin paler than moonlight. A violent shiver wracked her body and Kai's brows knitted.

"I really mean it, you can't live so recklessly." His grip tightened as he made his way down the hallway. It was quiet, cold in the barren home. Kai made a mental note to turn on the heating system, it was late November anyway, winter was bound to sweep over the land in those white flurries he hated. "You should rethink what your deal with that hero." Kai muttered. "If not for yourself, for me. I don't want to see you betrayed and hurt."

He slid open the bedroom door with his foot and tentatively laid (Y/n) down on the futon. Light flooded the room from the hallway, fighting to overtake the darkness filling the room. Kai pulled the covers over (Y/n)'s shoulders, golden hues soft with concern. "There's always something with you," he shook his head, "it would make me feel better if you weren't in constant danger."

Warmth blanketed (Y/n)'s trembling hands. She continued to shiver, teeth threatening to chatter. In the bleary depths of her mind, she had half a head to wonder what made the air so bitterly cold. Kai clenched a fist at his side, running a thumb over his knuckles in thought. "I'll shut the window," he decided.

The outline of Kai's figure was a mere inky blob in the night. He seemed to blend in with his surroundings despite the white gloves. When he came back, (Y/n) paid him no mind. She didn't have the strength to give in to the anger eating at her heart. Kai placed a firm hand to her forehead, brows knitting further still. "You have a fever."

The words didn't quite settle in (Y/n)'s mind.

"I'll be back, don't worry."

Back? Where was Kai going? He stood as (Y/n) rolled on her side, blinking groggily in the dark. It was very cold in her room she once called home. Too cold despite the sweater and the thick blankets she snuggled close to. "Don't look so worried," Kai said. "I'll bring you hot tea and soup." He stepped out of the room and shut the door quietly.

The absence made (Y/n)'s heart ache. She pulled the blankets over her head with a groan, wishing for the warm embraces of yesterday. Akaza's secure arms, his sweet, gentle kisses. If only he were here, alive (by her side), the stars would shine above with the moon.

And then she'd smile and run her hands through his hair, watching as candlelight flickered over his handsome face in the dark. (Y/n) closed her eyes and held fast to those memories, held them close to her fragmented heart.

A low beeping cut through the heavy silence. (Y/n) sighed and slowly pulled off her covers. She fumbled through her pillows and stuffed animals, fingers grasping around the vibrating phone. A bright blur of colours assaulted (Y/n)'s eyes like the sun. Spots appeared in her vision as she swiped a finger across the screen, sniffling. "Hello?" she croaked. "Who's this?"

"Woah." Hawks's baffled voice was crackly on speaker. "Did'ja get sick, Little Birdie? Are you doing okay?" (Y/n) sniffled again, hoping her liquid-y snot wouldn't travel down her throat. "My head hurts."

"Sounds like you're in for it. I'll call back later since it's a bad time."

(Y/n) squinted through the dark at seemingly nothing and sneezed. "No...'s alright." Hawks hummed worriedly. "You don't sound like you'll change your mind, huh? Well, about your tuition for U.A., everything's covered and the uniform will be sent through the mail for you."

The information took a good half minute to process. (Y/n) awkwardly coughed. "That's great, but isn't it really pricey?" Hawks laughed brightly and it sounded like those birds singing in the morning. "Don't worry about it, it's not a problem."

But it was, at least to (Y/n). She wanted to argue, but the pounding in her head made it hard to come up with a reason to reject him. A long pause made her frown. Hawks was usually much chattier no matter how bad his mood. "Did you want to talk about something else, too?"

Hawks sounded like he was ruffling his feathers. He thought for a good minute, mulled over his options like it relied on his life. "It's not a big deal," he finally admitted, "but a new guy made a pact with the HPSC with his twin brother. I didn't get a chance to talk to them since the President had all eyes and ears, but before I left, they said something like, 'The Ice Hashira can't know about Scylla'. Then they mentioned your name."

Confusion clouded (Y/n)'s mind with languid thoughts of a hot cup of tea. Scylla? She had no clue what that was, or when Kai was supposed to come back with soup and tea, or why it was so cold when she had so many blankets on. A sneeze ripped through her throat and Hawks painfully cringed on the other end.

"I can't say 'don't worry about it' when it has to do with you, but it's not worth the energy when you're sick. I'll stop bothering you now," his voice had softened considerably, "hope you feel better. Also, their names were--"

"(Y/n), you better not be talking to someone on your phone right now."

Through the cold threatening to render her senses useless and the way the room seemed to spin, she mustered the strength to slam the 'end call' and hide the phone under one of her plushies. If Kai found out she had Hawks's number (a young man's), he'd throw a fit much worse than Sanemi ever could. And that? Well, it was the same as ordering herself a coffin.

The door slid open. Kai entered with a tray of hot tea and zosui (rice soup), steam wafting high into the air. He didn't take off his mask like the coward he was and set the tray by (Y/n)'s bedside with narrowed eyes. "Who was that?" Kai made his way over to the desk and flicked on the boba desk lamp. It was something (Y/n) found cute the other day, so he made sure to buy it. "You should be resting."

"No one." (Y/n) said with a cough. Kai grimaced and hurriedly retreated a few paces back like some scared racoon. "Ergh, you're spraying your germs and spit everywhere."

(Y/n) took a sip of the soup. "Sorry." She wasn't sorry, at least now he'd forget about the phone call. "I didn't mean it."

Kai grimaced again under his plague mask. It was fitting with how he kept slowly inching into the furthest corner of the room. "Get better and then I won't be mad at you for not taking care of yourself. Make sure you shower before going to bed, and brush your teeth." He rummaged through the closet and pulled out a pair of fleece-lined pajamas. "Chrono will be here later to make sure your condition's stabilized."

"Okay."

"And if you're dizzy again, just stay in bed. It would be bad if you passed out and got hurt."

"Mhm..."

Kai placed the pajamas down on (Y/n)'s desk chair with a sigh. "I'll be back once I get some work done." He sounded so exhausted that it hurt to listen to his grumbly voice. "Call me if you need anything." The door slid open, and with one final glance over his shoulder, he disappeared into the hallway.

A pang filled (Y/n)'s heart. She hated seeing Kai look so exhausted. He seemed to drag his feet like chain balls were tied to his ankles, and hang his head as if he were unable to meet her eyes. Not only that, but Hawks had gone out of his way to assist (Y/n) in order for her to be fully admitted to U.A. for free.

It was funny, really. So many other children her age wished for such luck, such fortune in grasping their dreams. Unlike (Y/n), it was a burning ambition that could never be put out. A cold pit long weaseled its way into her insides, a bottomless gap that only grew with the passing days. She didn't have such ambitions anymore, not when her heart was in pieces.

By the time the bowl was empty, (Y/n) was sick to her stomach. The food was delicious (Kai was a great cook), yet churned like stormy waters in her stomach. The shadows of guilt hadn't fled just yet, and gods, how frustrating it was. Everything could have been so much more simpler if she just disappeared, died like how she was supposed to on that early dawn so red like blood.

(Y/n) later decided to shower. The hot water did well for her congestion, but as soon as she got back to her room, her nose clogged up. She lay in silence again with only the warm light of her boba lamp as company.

The door soon slid open with a pair of quiet steps. A low click filled (Y/n)'s ears and the room lit up like the sun. She hissed in pain, burying her face under the blankets. There was only one person stupid enough to turn on the lights while someone was trying to sleep.

"Hari," (Y/n) groaned. "Turn it off!"

A sheepish sigh escaped his lips and he flicked the switch. "Sorry," darkness settled as he shut the door, "I heard you were sick so I went to the store." Hari pulled down his mask and set it on the desk. He opened a bag, the boba lamp's light reflecting off the shiny plastic packages. "Don't tell Kai, but I got your favourite (candy/snacks/etc.). I just thought you might want a pick-me-up." A small smile rose to his lips as he set pulled out the contents and rearranged them on (Y/n)'s food tray.

She pulled down the covers with a sniffle. "I'm not a snitch. Thanks, Hari." His smile softened and in the low light, his eyes glistened. "Of course." There was a time when he looked this happy every day. It was a common occurrence so normal that no one bat an eye. But now that (Y/n) stared at him, she realised he hadn't smiled since she got here. He couldn't have looked more content, more happy (and for once, he ditched that stupid raincoat!) in this very moment.

The thought of being able to help seemed to make his heart soar with pride. Sometimes, the little things were all that really mattered, not the master plans, not the meticulous details, but the simpler moments Hari held close to his hardened heart.

It didn't take long for (Y/n) to dig into the snacks. She ended up sharing with Hari ('If I get sick, then I get sick,' he bravely proclaimed) and listening to soft music in the background. It was often said that wellness walked hand-in-hand with the mind. With Hari's presence lighting up the dreary night, (Y/n) found her shivers ceasing and her sniffles receding.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask." Hari pointed a pocky stick towards (Y/n)'s hair clip. It gleamed in the light like little stars in the night sky. "You only take that off before bed or a shower, and you almost always wear your haori. Why?" (Y/n) set down her tea and touched a hand to the clip in her hair. The gemstones were cool against her skin, rough yet smooth in its snowflake arrangement. She recalled the night Akaza clipped it to her bangs, how the fireworks lit up his gentle eyes, how he smiled in a way that made her so happy.

"It was a gift from Akaza, the demon who saved me. Same with the haori." Sorrow filled (Y/n)'s golden eyes. "I miss him everyday."

Hari's chest clenched in pain. A lost lover? It must have been torturous, like holding water in your hands over a long distance--Wait, wait, what? If (Y/n) felt so strongly about Akaza, and he gifted her such prized possessions...

No, no, that couldn't mean that (Y/n) was..

Oh, gods.

"You were in love?"

(Y/n) actually smiled and Hari realised he hadn't seen such a sight grace her face since before she disappeared. "It must be a shocker, huh." She gave his shoulder a weak punch. "Especially since you were my first crush." A huff escaped Hari's lips and he folded his arms across his chest. "You only had a crush on me since I was the first boy who was nice to you."

"Okay, that is not true."

Hari rolled his eyes with a snort. It in fact was, but he didn't care to argue such an embarrassing point. "Fine, then what made Akaza so special to you?" (Y/n) thought of the snowy night he carried her home. It had nearly been pitch black in the white forest, with only the moon's light above to cast a path of light. He showed her a special sort of kindness, one rooted in curiosity and youthful wonder.

"Akaza was gentle." Kisses soft like snow, persimmon eyes so passionately bright. "He was special, in the sense that he knew how to keep a conversation going forever. I never got tired of listening to him. He was a great teacher, too, who knew exactly how to be the right amount of patient.

"And when I was sad, he cooked for me. Zosui was the easiest, so I ate that the most and it always tasted great. Then he'd smile and laugh, and I could see his cute little fangs." (Y/n) paused to take a sip of tea. "It made my heart race whenever he came close, but I slept better when he was beside me anyway."

Love was different around Akaza. New, comforting with warmth that could never be extinguished, even by the strongest of storms. "I was lucky to have met him in this lifetime." (Y/n) laid back down and pulled the covers tight with heavy eyelids. "I wish he were still alive. It's him I yearn for, even after he told me to live life as it should be. In peace."

---

Kai glared at the plain, metal door as his phone beeped in hand. The little window at the top gleamed impeccably, a little show of his pride in cleanliness. Even in this forsaken, damp basement, he had his standards. Standards he would never lower for the sake of his own sanity.

The beeping suddenly came to a stop, the monotone voice of an automated message filling Kai's ears. "It seems the number you have dialed has--"

Kai hung up and pocketed his phone with a sigh.

Ever since (Y/n) came back home, all Kai had was trouble. It wasn't a bad thing (she was his sister), yet a part of him couldn't help the exhaustion from seeping into his bones. Lying wasn't in his nature around (Y/n), not when the two siblings were thick as thieves. They always told each other everything, from the dumbest thing they saw on the street, to the biggest questions on human existence. Whatever it was, the Chisaki siblings were honest and true.

Were. It was a funny word, wasn't it? A part of Kai resented himself for being so secretive, and it seemed that whenever he laid eyes upon that red-eyed commodity behind this very door, it increased tenfold. Losing his cool made him feel vulnerable, made his skin crawl with what felt like thousands of little insects.

And oh, oh Gods did it make him want to tear himself limb from limb.

It wasn't Eri's fault, just her dead mother's. She had done the siblings both a favour by exterminating such vermin off the face of the Earth. Kai was forever grateful no matter how hard it was to admit, yet her filthy existence could never be excused. It was her who caused such suffering and paint o (Y/n), the one who nurtured her with such careful love and adoration.

Yet it was Eri, the damned little devil, that caused (Y/n) a multitude of beatings. Many of which Kai was always too late to intervene in. It always happened when he was out with Oyaji and Hari, or too busy trying to cook dinner so everyone had something hot to eat before bed.

The glare on Kai's face was colder than the Arctic. His gaze bore holes into the door, internally tore it apart bolt by bolt. He hated the sight of that little girl with such unnaturally white hair and red eyes, and he hated the way she looked like his sister when she stared up at him in terror.

From the corner of his eye, Kai spotted Hari who sprinted down the hall like a world-class athlete. He frowned in distaste. Great, a headache was already on its way, he could just feel it. It was bad enough Yaoyorozu-san hadn't reached out to contact him in the past week, he didn't need anymore issues piling on his plate.

"What happened?" Kai gruffly inquired. "You wouldn't be running if something bad didn't happen." Hari wore a simple dust mask instead of the full-face and raincoat combo. He shook his head, eyes lost and confused. "I don't really get what happened," Hari paused, swallowing thickly, "there're marks on her neck and jaw, and she stopped coughing, but her fever went up like crazy."

A frustrated scoff escaped Kai's lips. That was great, wasn't it? Just when he was beginning to believe (Y/n) would be okay. He tore his gaze away from the pale metal door and strode passed Hari. For a right-hand man, he sure was being useless. "Blockhead," Kai grumbled, "you should have started with that first." There were very little times hr actually got angry. Mostly, they were little outbursts of frustration that ended up with someone's insides spewed across the floor.

That wasn't usually a problem, unlike his dear little sister. Kai's heart pumped a little too fast, a little too frantically as he broke into a sprint. He didn't want to admit it, but he was more than 'a little' worried. It was a good thing the Eight Expendables were cooped up in the common room sorting out political affairs and finances. He wouldn't have the patience to deal with their questions if they saw him running at break-neck speeds.

(Y/n)'s room was the same as Kai left it. The boba light still spilled gentle, warm light across her face as she slept, and she was tucked in, fast asleep. Yet across her jaw and neck were marks in the shape of snowflakes and flames that seemed to glow a faint magenta.

"Get me a thermometer and some medicine." Kai stated. "And a clean towel with cool water." He placed a hand to (Y/n)'s head and immediately retracted it with a grimace. She was hotter than a heater yet hadn't even begun to break a sweat. Realistically speaking, she should belong in the ER, but Kai really didn't want to bring her to the hospital and subject her to a long night in some unfamiliar place.

Hari came sprinting back with a small bag in band. "(Y/n) was fine for the first few minutes asleep," he unzipped the kit, "but then the marks appeared and her temperature rose. I used my Quirk to slow her down for a few minutes."

Which likely wasn't effective considering the nature of Hari's Quirk. One hand stopped a person for one minute while the other, an hour. There was no in-between with that Quirk, which made it such a pain to utilize in delicate situations. Hari handed Kai a thermometer and he placed it under (Y/n)'s tongue before pulling out his phone and placing two fingers to her wrist.

He impatiently began to count. The artery pulsing against his fingertips was unsteady and quick, with a beat that made his brows knit tightly. Ot was't normal, nor was it healthy for any living human. The minute soon ended and he pulled away, blanching.

"Two hundred." Kai pursed his lips into a thin line, shaking his head in disbelief. The room seemed to grow colder, smaller in the dim light. Hari's gaze sharply met his. "Are you sure you counted right?"

A scoff escaped Kai's lips. He couldn't imagine ever being so empty-headed. "How the hell would I make such a rookie mistake?" And there's no way I miscounted all the way to two hundred. "With how fast the heart is pumping, (Y/n) should have died from lack of oxygen."

There was no reason to doubt Kai, yet Hari felt the need to ask anyway. It was just so outlandish, so oddly insane that it made his head spin. "You're right. There's not much chance of counting that wrong anyway."

Kai removed the thermometer with a click of his tongue. He dipped a clean cloth into a bowl of cool water (courtesy of Hari) and placed it to (Y/n)'s forehead. "At least her temperature isn't over a hundred. It probably cooled." A frown fell upon Hari's lips in confusion. "It went down," he breathed a sigh of relief, "but what about her pulse?"

Kai began counting again. When he was done, relief flooded his cloudy eyes. "Normal. Around seventy five beats."

It was silent as (Y/n) tossed in bed, seemingly unaffected by a state that should have sent her to the other side mere moments ago. Terror seemed to seep to her face as she slept, rolling and grasping at what was not there. Kai grasped her hand in his and gave it a tight squeeze. He noticed that ever since (Y/n) came back, hand-holding brought her a world of comfort.

"It makes me angry," Kai muttered. "(Y/n) never deserved any of this." Hari could only nod in agreement. There wasn't much to say, and he feared that if he began talking, he wouldn't be able to stop a tangent on all the injustice he and Kai were doing to her.

The mark eventually receded, and her temperature lowered back to normal.

Kai didn't leave (Y/n)'s side that night. A part of him feared that she would die the moment he walked away no matter how many times he told himself that wouldn't happen. And so after his nightly routine, he moved a futon into the corner of the room. Hari, inevitably, ended up staying the night as well. He camped out in the corner closest to the door in case Kai needed something. And so they both lay there that night, worry overturning their minds.

"(Y/n) said she healed someone today while coming back from the grocery store," Hari said. He lay on his side, gaze falling on (Y/n)'s sleeping face. With her furrowed brows and tense jaw, she looked far from peaceful in the land of dreams. "She said he kicked some perverted thugs in the face, so she ended up healing a stab wound for him."

Kai resisted the urge to deeply sigh. "That sounds like her." His younger sister was becoming a thought that consumed his mind like a tumor. She was always in danger, or doing something stupid and finding trouble at every turn. The list never seemed to end or stop, even now when she was much stronger than she ever had been before. "(Y/n)'s always been good at getting herself in trouble. That's never changed."

A small chuckle escaped Hari's lips and Kai wondered how he could laugh. It seemed like eons ago that Hari had been so leisurely in his presence, and in the dim light, it looked like he was smiling a little. "For all we know, she might end up on the news again." he said.

Kai didn't find that so funny and wryly turned to glare at Hari. "I'd prefer not considering that. She doesn't need the attention."

"What about U.A.? She'll have to attend the Sport's Festival anyway. It's hard to believe she'll be leaving in less than five months." Hari shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't sure how to feel about that when it made his heart weigh heavily in his chest. "She'll probably be fine, but with the HPSC it spells trouble."

That wasn’t the only thing on Kai's mind. Hero Society was filled with the sickest, most delusional people who believed Quirks made them special (worth something when they were truly nothing). What was so appealing about it? They were all poster faces, people to pose for the news station and put society at ease as a lame prevention of anarchy. Kai flipped his pillow over to the cool side. "It's sickening," he seethed under his breath, "yet everyone is blind to such disparities."

(Y/n) turned on her side and frowned in her sleep, tossing.

"People still believe in false hope. In dreams that will never come true. Hero syndrome will be the downfall, it’s those types of mad men that caused a rift in normalcy." Distaste crawled onto Kai's face as a scowl and his golden eyes narrowed at the ceiling. Just thinking about it made his stomach churn and his throat constrict with the very uncomfortable need to regurgitate his dinner. How revolting.

Kai spared a glance at (Y/n) and grimaced. He wasn't religious, but right now was a sure time to pray for her safety. Her fever had gone down, yet she was congested and had trouble breathing. She trembled too as if it were the arctic despite the heat running on high. A stifled snort broke Kai from his thoughts. He turned, brows knitted in confusion. "What?" Hari shook his head, a hand over his mouth. "Why are you laughing?"

Hari took a moment to compose himself, cheeks dusted red from trying to hold back his laughs. It was the worst possible time to make fun of anything, but he simply couldn't help it. "I was thinking about how much you make that face around (Y/n)," Hari said through chuckles. "You only do it around her, like when we were all kids. It's just good to have her back. You seem much happier now, I know I am."

There was no denying the relief Kai felt in his chest at the prospect of having his sister back. It made his heart swell, his insides turn warm and fluffy. Nostalgia wasn't something Kai liked to waste this thoughts on, but perhaps this once, he'd allow himself the liberty. His churning mind soon eased into calm waters, and his frantic heart slowed to a steady beat.

Then those memories—the ones he fought so hard to suppress—ran through like a blizzard. Kai closed his eyes and a thin woman with bony fingers, snow-white hair, and red eyes flashed through his vision. The high-pitched shouting, the stifled crying, and the echoing sounds of a slap. It had happened in this exact spot many years ago, where Auntie's too-happy smile cracked into a twisted scowl. "You aren't even related to my father," she would say. "Why are you here living off his money? You're expensive to keep around, you know that? At least your brother is the next heir! You're nothing. Stay away from my daughter, you filthy street rat!"

And every time Kai and Hari insisted (Y/n) tell Oyaji, she refused, promised that everything would be fine despite the clear hand print on her cheeks and hands. Sometimes when Kai was busy cooking dinner, he'd come back and find (Y/n) covered in bruises. Other times, he'd find her alone in the corner of her room pretending that there weren't tears streaming down her face.

That woman's face shadowed over Eri, and sometimes, so did (Y/n), who used to look just as scared (just as terrified) before she was beaten to the ground. That resemblance was only a minor inconvenience, an uncomfortable obstacle he had to pass. Emotions ran thin like water when Kai wasn't beside his sister. Ignoring what he didn't want to see was easy, yet a pang filled his chest at the thought.

"Eri looks too much like her mother," Kai said under his breath. "It makes me sick." Whether Hari heard or not, he didn't know and didn't want to. It was hard enough avoiding the subject, acknowledging it would only press further irritations into his already pounding head.

"Kai?"

His name was Overhaul, but he'd let it slide this once. "What?"

"(Y/n)'s close to figuring it out."

The single boba nightlight illuminating on the desk seemed to dim. Kai had bought it for (Y/n) last week when she said it was cute. "I know," he tightly admitted. "She isn't stupid. It's even more difficult since she knows us both too well, one slip up and we're good as dead." Which was why Kai didn't mind (Y/n)'s long-forgotten dreams of being a Hero. She wouldn't find joy in that life, not when the sparkle in her eyes long faded and the life died from her face. And oh, did it make Kai's heart ache.

To think his dear, little sister wanted to kill herself. To think she had stained her hands red and thought her life was anything but redeemable. Guilt plagued his mind, ground into his sides until he couldn't bear look (Y/n) in the eyes. How stupid was that? Why should Kai feel guilty for something that would bring the Hassaikai glory? That would conquer the market and create the catalyst for a new world?

Hari seemed to have fallen asleep. He lay on the futon in the hallway, lightly snoring. It would have been grating Kai's ears if (Y/n) weren't sniffling every few seconds in near-perfect unison. Gross. What kind of connection was that supposed to entail? Somewhere in the house, a clock struck midnight--twelve perfect chimes that made Kai's head pound. He rolled on his side with a strained sigh, rubbing at his temples.

"Nii-chan...what are you doing here?"

Kai sat up abruptly and immediately regretted it. Spots danced in his vision as he stood to take a knee by (Y/n)'s futon. She stared up at him tiredly, dark bags painted under her dull golden eyes. "Your heart was beating faster than it should have," Kai explained, "and your temperature was high."

Realization slowly dawned upon (Y/n) and she tried for a minuscule smile in hopes it was reassuring. "Don't worry, it's nothing." Kai frowned under his black dust mask, brows knitting together in a straight line. "What are you talking about? Any normal person would have died from the lack of oxygen running through their system. That's not normal, (Y/n)."

She shook him off and carefully gave his bare hand a squeeze. Even when ill and weary, she knew Kai wouldn't have the courage to pull away. He just couldn't say no when she looked at him so gently, so softly. "We call them 'Demon Slayer Marks'." (Y/n) paused, as if to clear the fog clouding her mind. "They grant us more physical strength and endurance to fight the Upper Level demons and Kibutsuji."

Demon Slayer Marks? Kai tried wrapping his head around the idea of something so peculiar infesting itself into (Y/n)'s being. It didn't make sense, how could a simple mark do such a thing? Maybe it was some primitive version of a Quirk that jumped from person to person? He rubbed at his temples again with a sigh. "Go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

But (Y/n) wasn't having it, and if she wasn't having it, then no one could change her mind. Not even Kai, who was just as stubborn.

"Nii-chan," there was sorrow in her eyes so fleeting it could have been a trick of the dim light, a mere fragment of imagination, "I think something's wrong with me." By the glisten in her eyes, Kai knew (Y/n) wanted to cry. But why? She had no reason to be scared or fearful of this disturbing illness. Kai wasn't going to leave her, and he made sure of that by camping out in the furthest corner of the room despite her illness. He frowned. "You're fine."

"No," (Y/n) squeezed her eyes tight, as if to erase something in her line of sight, "I don't think so anymore. I must be going crazy." She didn't elaborate and frankly, Kai didn't want to hear it. She was probably just tired on feverish dreams. It wasn't in her nature to speak so vulnerably, so openly about touchy subjects. "Sleep," he urged. "We'll see how you're doing in the morning."

(Y/n) sniffled. She lay in bed quietly, every now and then glancing at Kai. He had long closed his eyes, chest moving and and down as he eased into the slow quiet of night. Clearly, he hadn't fallen asleep, but he was trying (for her).

"NIi-chan."

"What?" Kai grumbled. "Go to sleep."

(Y/n) met his tired gaze, equally as exhausted with a pounding headache. "When is Oyaji going to wake up? Can't you do something more to help him?" For a good few seconds, Kai stared at the wall. He looked torn between scolding her and simply shutting off completely for the night. "I don't know."

"Oh." (Y/n) swallowed a lump in her throat. "Are you sure?" The doubt in her voice sent a world of hurt into Kai's heart. He pressed a hand to his chest, pulled the blanket over his shoulders. "We can talk about this later."

(Y/n) absentmindedly met his gaze. "Why can't we help Oyaji like Touya-kun?"

Kai pressed his lips into a thin line. "We almost killed Touya-kun, that's what. We were lucky we didn't disfigure his head and make him brain dead."

"But you study biology, don't you? I could do the same and then we could help Oyaji."

Kai sent her a forlorn look and sighed in defeat. "Sure." He didn't sound so sure. "Science isn't easy. Regardless, you have to study to catch up with your classmates. Four years of no school, do you know how behind you are? You need to learn how to do math at the high school level before science. I'm sure your Kanji is fine, but you still have a lot to focus on."

(Y/n) thought back to that cool afternoon in the stale hospital room, where Hawks and her talked over a hot meal.

"You asked about why I didn't look happy about them visiting," her lips pressed into a tight, thin line, "well, when you imagine a day that you've dreamt up for so long, you think of joy and happiness." She shook her head, a world of hurt clouding her golden eyes. "All I felt was this everlasting sense of dread. As if something bad were to happen."

A cool prickle hit the back of (Y/n)'s neck, an icy wave that sent chills down her spine. It seemed to cling to Kai and Hari like sticky molasses, a horrid thing she couldn't wash away. They had gradually begun to break down her icy walls little by little, yet in the back of her mind, doubt pooled in darkness.

"(Y/n)," Kai mumbled, "go to sleep." She adjusted her pillow and snuggled into the covers, calling out to Kai quietly. His brow furrowed like it always did and he cracked open an eye. "What?"

(Y/n) frowned to herself. She wanted to add pressure to the wound, salt to rub into his face in the form of a single question--a single 'why?'. But that was too cruel, she didn't have the heart to push away her only brother. "Never mind." Kai rolled on his side to face her. "Are you sure?"

"No," she replied, "but it's fine."

Kai stared at (Y/n) for a long, hard moment before sighing and closing his eyes.

Modern Era Secrets!

-Kai goes to university (with Hari) and has been for a while. He just never mentioned it
-That's why the two are always off doing something (if it's not Yakuza stuff)
-(Y/n) doesn't watch the news and doesn't use social media (Kai applauded her for using her time wisely)
-(Y/n) practices her Hashira skills when she isn't out with Hari walking around the city
-Kai sometimes comes home with bubble tea for (Y/n), especially on days where she is sad
-After calling (Y/n), Hawks ended up meeting one of the mysterious twins. In short, he thinks the elder one is stuck-up and rude

The doctor is probably easy for you all to guess, right? And the orphanage appeared in Kai's backstory, somewhere. He grew up around the idea that Quirks were a disease (or the doom of humanity) through those books and his treatment of those who abused their Quirks. He ended up resenting them because of what he'd seen/had to fight off on the streets with (Y/n). I think a part of Kai just wanted to be normal growing up, like Oyaji (who I assume is Quirkless or doesn't use one at all). That need for normalcy drives Kai towards his goals, and if not for the fear of what (Y/n) would say, then he'd be the person we know in canon. His love for you is slowly rising to become an equal with his goals, and that? Well, it scares him half to death with guilt.

Hari is still the poor middle man. A part of him wants things to go back to normal, but he can't bear the thought of betraying Kai. I think that if it came down to who he would choose, he wouldn't pick you, not because he doesn't care, but because he physically can't bring himself to abandon something he put so much soul. Plus, his admiration for Kai runs too deep. You'll have to change his mind, reader!

Dabi will also stay up my sleeve for future chapters. He's really important, but even he doesn't know why or how yet (he's kinda just there right now). I think I'll have to amp it up a bit for him, no?

Chapter Text

'Among the countless stars
There is one star that was lost
I wanted to protect it
Day and night, the light of your love
Stayed next to me
I’m so thankful...'
-Shine Together, SF9

(Y/n) tapped her pencil against the living room's coffee table, muttering incoherently under her breath. She thought back to the previous hour before lunch break, then the hour before where Hari explained exactly how to do this damned math problem.

What was next? Divide it? Cube it?

(Y/n) scribbled mindlessly, something along the lines of squaring a number and adding or subtracting it from the sum of the previous equation. She didn't really know, the numbers were all a jumbled mess in her head after the first ten problem sets. Light leaked through the living room windows, where leaves languidly blew through the yard and into the afternoon skies. The clock read one-thirty, and no matter how much (Y/n) willed it, the hour hand refused to move.

Gods. She must have been delusional if she thought academics would be easier than swordsmanship.

"Time's up!" Hari held up his beeping phone and clicked off the alarm. "Okay, how do you think you did?"

It had only been about a day since the start of home school and (Y/n) was doing terribly. Her illness had mysteriously disappeared recently, and the moment Kai was sure she was fine, he didn't waste any time in creating a piling amount of busywork.

It was as if he wanted to see (Y/n) fail. And judging by the (heavy emphasis on) biology, chemistry, and general maths (physics, algebra, and some other subject she didn't care to recall), Kai was trying to scare her away. (Y/n) begrudgingly handed Hari the messy paper and sighed lowly. "I don't want to look at this anymore."

"You'll probably get harder stuff at U.A.," Hari noted. "It's all to prepare you accordingly."

Demon Slaying was much, much simpler than modern life. The rush of adrenaline, the blood smeared across the ground. It was all a part of everyday life, a part of the fight towards peace. Sitting in front of a desk, pencil in hand induced a different sort of thrill, one (Y/n) wished she could slice in half.

"So...?" she quietly muttered. "How did I do?" Hari circled something on the paper and jotted down a long note in red ink. He then clicked the pen, sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and handed the paper back. Underneath (Y/n)'s name and the day's date sat: 10%, at least you tried.

She wanted to rip the paper in two.

There were many things in life that tested (Y/n)'s patience. Some were her fellow Hashira, who every so often ran around cussing the poor innocents, and others, who picked fights with her just to test her strength. Mathematics? Oh, ho, ho, ho.

(Y/n) snatched the paper from Hari's hands and gripped it in a choke hold until it crumpled in her hands. "I hate math!" Hari placed his head in his hands with a teary sigh of defeat. "Me too," he agreed. "I already told you that you're supposed to square root, then multiply. You keep switching them, forgetting to use to the square root, or cubing it instead. I'm done, let's move on to biology. At least we both know how that works, right?"

A pit hollowed (Y/n)'s stomach and she wondered if she would combust then and there. "Right," she blanched, "I completely understand how it works. Yes. Completely." Hari limply lifted his head and let out a humourless laugh. He was slowly losing it, slowly teetering over the edge of insanity. "You're lying. How do you even use your Quirk?!"

(Y/n) crumpled the paper into a ball and launched it at Hari's head. "It's anatomy, you dummy! As if I have time to learn all that about cells and whatnot. I don't understand a thing about it!" Hari threw his hands into the air. "It's memorization?!" He was beyond baffled, beyond flabbergasted. "It's literally not that hard!"

"Well, the only thing I remember is that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, okay?! Is that enough for you?!"

A tall figure in a bomber jacket with (expensive) purple fur strutted into the room, golden eyes half lidded and dark. He towered over the table, golden eyes hooded in darkness. "What is going on here?" Kai demanded. "The first thing I heard when I came through the front door was shouting. You shouldn't have to raise your voices like that. Be considerate, you'll disturb Oyaji."

After a long political negotiation with another gang in the prefecture over, Kai's patience was running thinner than ice in late spring. He was hoping to see a scholarly discussion over the core subjects (Y/n) needed to learn, along with supplements to deter her from experimenting with her Quirk. So naturally, he expected something orderly, or at least decently structured to provide the optimal use of what little time they had left before the school year began.

This was far from his expectations, far from what he could possibly imagine.

Papers balled up and strewn across the floor, pencil shavings scattered on the coffee table, four pencils snapped in half--Kai felt his jaw tense. Maybe it was a bad idea to let Hari deal with academics on the first day and a half. He didn't seem to have much knack for teaching.

"Nii-chan!" (Y/n) stood up with a sour look on her face. "Why do I have to learn algebra and physics? Do I look like I'm joining the American Space Force? I don't need to learn this!" She scooped up some of the crumpled papers and aggressively flattened them out for him to see. "Look! Who needs to know how to calculate projectile motion, quadratics, real and imaginary numbers, and all this other stuff?"

Somewhere, deep down in the depths of Kai's clinically passive heart, he felt giddy with something akin to joy. It wasn't true joy (could never be), but it was as close as he could get to it. "School is full of useless information you'll never use," he explained. "It's part of the system. I'm sure you'll do other things at U.A., but they usually don't skip out on core subjects."

(Y/n) set the papers down on the coffee table with a dramatic groan and threw her hands up into the air. She pretended to punch Kai (much to his bewilderment), and then flopped down on the floor cushion with a defeated sigh. "I forgot how much I hated school."

A laugh escaped Hari's lips as he flipped through a heavy textbook. "Good thing you're not in university. You wouldn't survive a day in our classes, especially since lectures are about two hours long. It's tough." (Y/n) looked horrified.

There was a sparkle of mirth in Kai's eyes as he began picking up the scattered worksheets and notes. He was too relieved to care much about the mess anymore, and seeing (Y/n) so lively about something so mundane brought colour to his field of view. He missed this side of his sister, the side that got excited and happy, or childishly frustrated and angry about the little things.

The little things that had slowly begun to fade.

"You'll understand eventually," Kai consoled, "it's not that hard." He set the stack of crumpled papers on the desk, taking a mental note to remind the two to clean up the eraser shavings.

(Y/n) ran her hands through her hair with a miserable sigh. The thrum of blood in her ears began to cool with her fit of fury. Just hearing those words made her heart sink. "Not you too. Hari keeps saying it's easy and that it's impossible to mess up the square root of whatever. He even wrote on my paper 'at least you tried'." She sucked her teeth bitterly. It was stupid to believe she had a chance. "I'm trying, but that's not enough. Being studious means nothing if I can't grasp the material."

To make matters worse, Kai was blatantly mocking her because he was oh-so-smart and great at just about anything. (Y/n) wasn't like him. Her memory was average and her learning speed inconsistent, she wasn't as adjustable to certain learning styles, and the constant change in her life wasn't helping.

So what did that make her? Stupid? Probably. She wouldn't know the difference when she was surrounded by geniuses. If Oyaji were awake, he'd surely understand, but he was still bedridden, fast asleep to the beat of his own heart. (Y/n) thought of the nights she'd lay on the floor in silence, listening to the steady beep, beep, beep, of the monitor. The tatami was always a bit more scratchy in his room, a little colder and lonelier to lay on.

"I'm not smart," (Y/n) muttered, tucking the papers into a folder. "Not like you guys. It's why I was better at demon slaying than anything else." She scooped up the eraser shavings into her palm and strode over to the kitchen. Languidly, she tossed them away, watching as each tiny piece hit the bottom of the plastic bag.

Hari peered over the textbook as (Y/n) disappeared down the hall. The sounds of a door opening, no doubt to the courtyard, filled the expanse of silence before it closed with a small click. Kai folded his arms across his chest, gaze narrowed accusingly. "What did you say to her?"

Hari closed the textbook with a frown. "I didn't say anything." Kai raised a brow and he sighed in defeat. "Fine, I was arguing about the quadratic formula and how (Y/n) should know biology because of her Quirk. She kept saying everything was hard, so I got frustrated at her since she kept doing her math wrong. Then she got mad at me, threw her paper at my face, and...you get the gist."

Yeah, Kai sure got the gist. Whether this was the fault of Hari alone (the blockhead), or a mix of self-esteem issues and an inferiority complex, he could already guess. (Y/n) wasn't fragile, but that didn't mean she didn't have her fair share of issues. Every day was a battle, he saw it in her eyes. The sad glances, the troubled frowns, the playing with her sleeves and the constant 'I'm fine'.

It wasn't like Kai wanted (Y/n) to fail. He always prayed and hoped for her successes, just as any elder brother would. The supplemental parts of this home education were supposed to deter her, not make her give up. If (Y/n) didn't continue studying, then she might as well drop out of U.A. altogether to prevent further embarrassment.

"Go talk to her," Kai stated. "It's your fault she walked away." Even if it was partly his fault for rubbing salt in the wound, he wouldn't dare admit it. He should have known better that (Y/n)'s old scars were never one to fade, never one to heal. "Also, make sure you clean up the living room. I expect you in the basement in an hour and a half."

Hari began by stacking the textbooks and gathering the last of the papers. He listened to Kai's faint footsteps, then silence in the empty house. A cold pit dropped into his stomach, it had never been this quiet before, and even if it was, it unnerved him.

Once the books, broken pencils, papers, and eraser shavings were all cleaned, Hari made his way into the courtyard. He pulled on a grey sweatshirt and stepped out onto the engawa. Its cool surface tickled his bare feet as he closed the door.

Against one of the wooden pillars sat (Y/n). She leaned her back against it, pulling her haori close. It still smelled of green tea and Earth, but maybe that was because it was all she ever was around anyway. That and fresh smelling cleaning supplies. She sensed the prick of Hari's familiar presence before he even stepped out into the early December air. It was best to ignore him for now. He'd probably end up leaving.

"(Y/n)."

Her eyes snapped open and she mercilessly glared at the wooden floor under her feet. Her toes had begun to grow red from the cold, but she couldn't quite feel its numbing effects, not when her heart was just as icy. She grunted in response, a harsh sound that made Hari flinch.

"I didn't mean to make you mad," he said. "I'm not a good teacher, I should have been more considerate about your level."

'Your level'? What did Hari even mean by that? If he wanted to say that she was dumber than a fifth grader, then he should have said it. A long silence fell over the chilly air, where breezes carried the heart of unsaid words. (Y/n) shifted in her spot, gaze falling to the bare tree overlooking the single stone bench. She sighed lowly, white tendrils rising into the air. "It doesn't matter to me."

"Stop lying."

"Am I?" she challenged, sparing Hari a second's glance. "I can't be upset over something as stupid as academics. I have bigger things to worry about." Yet the dull sheen in her liquid golden hues said otherwise. In the warm sun breaking through grey clouds, Hari saw her clear as day. Clear as the light upon her rosy cheeks.

"(Y/n), you're not stupid."

She scoffed in disbelief and shook her head bitterly. That was ridiculous of him to say when he was a genius himself. "Maybe not, but compared to you and Nii-chan, I am."

Hari licked his chapped lips awkwardly. "Why do you think that?"

'Why'? Was Hari seriously asking why? (Y/n) had the urge laugh like some manic villain. "Take a good look at yourself," --her gaze bore holes into the barren ground-- "teacher's pet, good grades, awards. You and Kai have always been five steps ahead of me, what makes you think I can catch up to my classmates?"

Pain welled up in (Y/n)'s chest. She willed herself to reign it in, to keep her voice steady and leveled before the tears blurred her vision. "I gave up four years of my life believing I would never come home. Four years slaying demons and breaking regulations to see Akaza. Four years watching as people I loved died right before my eyes. I couldn't do a thing about it no matter how hard I trained, and now it's happening again. Why? Hard work and determination can only get people so far. I have less than five months, I won't catch up."

"It's only been a day--"

"You didn't seem to think so five minutes ago." (Y/n) icily snapped. "You and Kai." She turned on her side, huffing a cloud of vapour into the frigid air. Hari stuffed his hands into his pocket, caving in on himself with a guilty frown. It was good he looked that way, thought (Y/n). Especially after getting so frustrated over an itty-bitty math test.

She leaned further against the pillar and closed her eyes. It was pathetic. Defeat by fifteen math problems? What was wrong with her? She faced the most formidable opponents, fought tooth and nail to survive while bleeding her guts out, only to be cut down by numbers and letters? She sucked her teeth, a small 'tch'. "Go away if you're done. It's cold, you'll get sick."

Hari's heart pounded in his chest. He clenched his fists tight, half moons digging into his palms. Lifting someone's spirits wasn't something he ever learned to do, but the next best thing was close enough. Hari had enough experience in political dealings, especially those involving haggling. He heaved in a deep breath. Here went nothing.

"Do you want to go to the katana store?"

(Y/n) cracked open an eye. Bribery? Was that really what this world came to? She didn't want to stay mad at her only best friend, and really, a little gain never hurt anyone, right? A reluctant sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips. She stood and gave Hari a kick in the leg, but not enough to hurt him. "You're so annoying, gods."

A sheepish smile rose to Hari's lips and rubbed at his sore calves. "But you feel better now, right?" (Y/n) rolled her eyes and seized him by the sleeves. "Hurry up, your nose is starting to get runny." She slid open the glass doors. "I don't want you to get sick."

Hari's brows knitted together and he made a sour face. "So will you. Your face is all red, what were you thinking coming out here without a jacket? I'm freezing." The two made their way down the halls, clamoring about old memories and dumb arguments they used to have in the past. By the threshold of the living room, Kai leaned against the wall. He shut his eyes to listen to the light conversation, eyes downcast in deep thought.

It would have been nice if life could be so simple.

---

The crows dared not soar high into the sky. Grey painted the once blue skies a blunt monochromatic hue, where flakes of snow fell, dusting the world in pure white. (Y/n) stuffed her hands into the pockets of her woolen coat, huffing out a cloud of warm vapour. "Finally, I thought it would never snow."

A sour frown painted itself on Hari's lips. He shivered and opened the store's front door. The bell above rang, a little sound that reminded him of Christmas. "I wish it were spring already," he miserably muttered. "I think you got me sick." (Y/n) gave him a small smile. "Well, you said you didn't mind getting sick. Plus, you walked to the courtyard without a coat."

"Well, I take it back, and I only went outside to get you."

"Coward." (Y/n)'s gaze fell along the aisles upon aisles of items. "I'm sure you'll get better soon." Boxes of cleaning kits, tenugui towels, straw mats--there was nothing particularly eye-catching that grabbed her impulse. Hashira were rarely home, and naturally, small luxuries weren't an indulgence besides little nick-knacks that fit in pockets.

There was a shuffle behind the cash register and a small 'clunk' of metal. "It's fine, Keizo," exclaimed a wrinkly voice. "Your old man's not gonna be defeated by carrying a few boxes around!" The ojii-san, Hayate, emerged from the back room with a young man in tow. He had ebony black hair and a bit of a stubble around his face. Judging by his bright eyes and friendly face, he was the son.

"'Tou-san, you sure?"

Yes, definitely the son.

Hayate-san set down the crate and made a shooing motion with his hands. "'Tou-san this, 'Tou-san that--I'm fine, boy. Get a move on, you!" Keizo ran a hand over his short hair and snorted. "You weren't saying that five minutes ago. Your back isn't that good anymore, you know."

The two had another small back and forth filled with play fighting and jokes. Smiles graced their faces, cheeks dusted a hue of red from laughing so heartily. (Y/n)'s fingertips grazed the spine of a manual. Her chest ached, burned with longing for something she couldn't quite understand. It was as if this show of love were familiar, close, yet so, so far.

Hayate and Keizo's conversation soon came to a close. Their gazes began to drift towards (Y/n), who quickly picked up a swordsmanship manual and looked away. She stuffed her face as far into the pages as she could. Please don't talk to me, please don't talk to me--

"Oh!" Keizo's face lit up like a spark. "You're the girl 'Tou-san was talking about. Chisaki-san, right?" (Y/n) slowly shut the book and set it back on the shelf with a polite bow of her head. There was no avoiding the conversation, not when this guy looked about ready to talk her ear off about obscure martial arts styles. "Yes, that's me."

The man flashed an amiable smile. "Nice to meet you, I'm Keizo. You don't have to call me Soyama, it'll be confusing with my 'Tou-san here and all." The smile on his face never seemed to fade. It was like the sun, everlasting, ever shining even when one couldn't quite see it. "Are you entering high school next year?"

(Y/n) looked to Hari for help, but he only sent her an eye smile from under his disposable mask. What a traitor. "Yes," she forced the words from her throat, "I'm entering high school next year."

Keizo's eyes seemed to light up. "My son's your age then. I heard you practice the Soryu Style, so I'm sure my 'Tou-san's told you about the dojo. You said you learned from a friend?" (Y/n) nodded, subtly playing with loose threads in her woolen coat. This guy really liked to talk a lot. "Yes, I did learn from a friend. He was a brilliant martial artist, incredibly skilled. If not for him, I wouldn't have gotten very far."

Keizo leaned against the register table with curious eyes (that looked a little too familiar). "Why don't you come to my dojo sometime? You could meet my son and spar. Here," --he dug into his pocket and pulled out a business card-- "feel free to stop by whenever."

(Y/n) took the card with a polite bow. "Thank you, I will keep that in mind." There was a curious look in Keizo's eyes, a bright glow of that twinkled like starlight. "My 'Tou-san said that you said your friend was the best martial artist in all of Japan."

A sheepish frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips. "Well, I wouldn't know for sure, but I did say 'one of'. Not 'the' best." The comment didn't chip away at the excitement pulsing through Keizo's aura. In fact, he looked even more fired up by the word of defense. "Fight me."

"What?"

"In my store?"

"Just a spar," Keizo grinned, "and as long as we don't break anything, it'll be fine. There's enough space just for something quick. We won't go full out, just enough to hold someone down for five seconds, max."

A doubtful look crossed Hari's face. He frowned and placed a hand to (Y/n)'s shoulder. "I don't think that's a good idea." Keizo waved him off. "If anything does break, I'll compensate as long as you put in a good amount of effort. Also, no Quirks, obviously." He began cracking his knuckles, that friendly shonen-boy grin refusing to fade from his lips. "You don't have to, but it would be fun. Plus, I'd like to see what one of the greatest martial artists in all of Japan taught you. If he's really that good."

There was something about the comment that irked (Y/n). She didn't care about her honour. It could be dragged through the mud or thrown askde like rubbish, but then her mind wandered to Akaza. He put a mountain's worth of effort into passing down his knowledge, it wouldn't hurt to put this random guy into place.

(Y/n) shrugged off her woolen jacket and handed it to Hari. He stared at it as if it were a dirty plate, gaze narrowed. "You're actually fighting this guy?" (Y/n) pushed the coat into his arms. "I don't see why not."

"(Y/n)--"

A minuscule smirk threatened to crawl up her lips. She wondered if it resembled Akaza's, with that devilish smugness that could bring anyone to their knees. "I'll wipe the floor with his face in the next thirty seconds." (Y/n) adjusted the sleeves of her haori, golden eyes set in stern determination. "I'm sure you know how that feels, Hari."

The last time (Y/n) chose to show off her skills was simply out of pure spite. Long story short, Hari tried Hashira training and lasted two seconds max before wanting to pass out and cross over to the other side. "Alright, mind counting us off?"

A large sigh escaped Hari's lips. "Fine. Three..."

(Y/n) widened her stance.

"Two..."

Keizo mimicked her.

"One."

She took a step forward and feigned a kick. She feigned a punch before seemingly disappearing into thin air. Keizo blinked, eyes widening. Suddenly, he was turned upside down and pined to the ground on his stomach, heart hammering in his chest. His gaze fell on (Y/n)'s cool expression, where those golden hues burned and flickered.

"How did you--?!"

Hari began to count again. Once he hit five seconds, the cool expression melted from (Y/n)'s face. In its place stood a mellow look of concern. "Here," --she hauled Keizo up with an arm-- "I hope I didn't hurt you." He dusted himself off with a shake of his head, whistling a hum. The words had long been winded from his chest, all forgotten by the shock reverberating through his veins. It was inhuman without a Quirk to move so quickly. "How did you do that?"

The snowflakes dotting (Y/n)'s haori were suddenly very inviting. She stared at it in thought, lips pursed tightly. "My friend was a good teacher and I trained hard." The simple answer elicited a laugh from Keizo. "I bet it was more than that. You must have worked your tail off, kid. It's funny though, my son likes to do that same combo to end a fight. I guess kids these days are just built different, though."

The back-breaking training, the blood, sweat, and tears all while running towards the edge of the Earth to break the human limit--that was much more than 'built different' or 'hard-working'. It was the iron-clad work of those who were known as Hashira, as Pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps.

But Keizo would never understand such things, nor would he ever know of the pains of a century ago. It was long forgotten, remembered only in story books and fairy tales. (Y/n) politely bowed her head. "It was nice to meet you, Keizo-san." He grinned brightly in response. "No, no. I had the honour to fight someone so young and skilled today. Thank you, Chisaki. 'Tou-san, is there anything you can give her as a reward?"

A scoff escaped the Soyama's lips. "You're the one who came up with the bet, figure something out." Keizo placed a hand to his chin in thought. "Uh..."

(Y/n)'s gaze flickered up to the painting of that woman with deep purple eyes. Her face held a motherly expression, one of great compassion and kindness. "I don't want anything, but it would be nice if you could tell me about that painting? It's...so life-like. Who painted it?"

Soyama jabbed a finger at the splendid painting with curiously. "Oh that? My mum really liked these, so we have a ton at home. My dad used to buy them from art galleries to collect. It's beautiful, innit? There's not much known about the painter, he's a shut-in and only hold galleries when he feels like it. He's kinda fickle and short-tempered, from what I heard. Hates questions."

Fickle? Short-tempered? (Y/n) felt a spark of hope explode in her chest. It couldn't be possible, could it?

"There's also a rumor about the painter." Keizo added, eyes sparkling with mirth. "His name is 'Yamamoto' and there are paintings from decades ago. It's said he's either a god descended from the Heavens, or a long line of painters. No one knows what he looks like either since he wears a mask in public and refuses to show his face."

Sharp words that bit like the chill of night, a temperament so passionate it could fuel a storm, and fangs bared more often than not. (Y/n) swallowed hard, head spinning with the last bit of hope she could grasp. If Yushiro were alive, then maybe she could speak to him and ask...something.

What something? There was nothing to wonder about, nothing to connect with when her life had ended. (Y/n) didn't need closure when peace fell over the lands in those bright rays of dawn. It would be embarrassing to see Yushiro when she was supposed to be dead. What would he think of her, living so prudently when her friends and (found) family were dead? Long buried between the pages of history?

"...It's a mystery that used to be pretty hot on the internet."

Keizo was still talking? (Y/n) faintly nodded along, each word running through one ear and out the other. He soon paused when his phone rang. As he placed it to his ear, Hari tapped her shoulder. "Kai said he needed me back before sixteen thirty. We should go now."

(Y/n) turned to Soyama and bowed. "Thank you for the information. It was nice meeting Keizo-san." Soyama opened his mouth to comment on the reward, but before he could speak, (Y/n) had already made her way out the door. She felt a little bad for leaving so quickly, but by the quick pep in Hari's step, he needed to be on time.

The parking lot was covered in an inch layer of snow. It clung to (Y/n)'s boots as she made her way to the car, liquid golden eyes flickering with a newfound warmth. A bus passed by the road and a boy came running through the parking lot in a thick navy coat. He shivered, running a hand over his wind-swept hair.

Warmth. It burned (Y/n)'s chest like a fire, filling her very veins with the same familiarity she felt inside the store. She paused in her step, fingertips tingling. The boy blew on his hands for warmth and jogged past (Y/n) before entering the store. The bell rang behind him, its echos swallowed in the quiet suburban winter.

That boy. There was something about him that struck like lightning.

"(Y/n)?" Hari placed a hand to her shoulder. "What's wrong?" She opened her mouth to speak, but every word sitting on her tongue dissolved like the snowflakes on her cheek. "I...thought I saw something." Hari's thick brows knitted together and his gaze fell on the footprints. Snow had already begun to fill them up. "The boy?"

Exhaustion began pulling at (Y/n)'s limbs. She didn't want to think about Akaza, not when she missed him more than the sun on those long nights of demon slaying. She longed for his gentle touch, his sweet kisses, his teasing laughs that made her heart beat precariously hard.

"It's nothing."

On the ride home, Kai called Hari and asked him to take a detour to the city. No explanations, no further elaboration, just a simple 'be quick' and a stern chiding to (Y/n) about watching for cars. She sat in the passenger seat with her arms folded across her chest, a frown pulling at her lips.

It was suspicious. Why so suddenly? And why couldn't Kai just go there himself? He was never one to ask people to do his work when they could potentially mess it up. He liked insurance, and this sure wasn't it, even if it was Hari of all people. "Where are we going?"

Hari kept his gaze glued to the snowy roads. "I need to meet a business partner. You remember Kichi-san? He owns the bar downtown."

"Yeah. The one Oyaji used to talk to a lot?"

"Yup. I need to meet with him really quick. If you want, you can stay at the library, I'll pick you up in about half an hour." Despite the neutral tone, it was clear Hari didn't want (Y/n) coming along. Anything that had to do with the Yakuza was generally off limits anyway. It was what Oyaji always preferred (wanted).

The frown continued creasing (Y/n)'s lips. She turned up the radio a notch, hands stiff. "Okay." Guilt flashed in Hari's eyes for a split second, a moment of pure vulnerability that crippled his knees. He hated lying to her face. As her best friend, how could he be so dishonourable? So cruel? "I'll bring you bubble tea when I pick you up, how about that?"

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and lamely punched his arm. She tried not to look too bothered, but her eyes were the ultimate betrayal. "I'm not giving in to your bribery, but I won't decline it either." Hari was lying, she knew by the look on his face. "I hope you're not planning on leaving me at the library for the night."

"I'll try to be quick."

The car came to a slow stop. Snow violently tumbled in the car as (Y/n) cracked open the door. Hari reached over the driver's seat and flicked up her hood. "The library beats waiting outside. I'll call you before I pick you up." (Y/n) stepped out into the chilly air, frowning. "Just come back in one peace. That bar can get rowdy on days like this."

Hari flashed a smile and pulled out his wallet. "Here's some money, go buy yourself some food if you get hungry." He handed (Y/n) a few bills and she limply placed it in a zipper pocket. It wasn't hard to believe he was ditching her for whatever the heck Kai needed, but that didn't mean it hurt. "Thanks."

The car door shut with a click and (Y/n) made her way up a flight of stairs. She listened to the heavy honking of cars. Tires screeched every now and then, with the occasional sounds of a policeman stopping to scold reckless drivers.

The library was warm, maybe a little too warm. With the sun beginning its descent and the moon rising to take its place, they must have cranked up the heat to battle all the chill. (Y/n) wandered through the main halls, every now and then pausing to check what wing she was in.

"Geez, how big is this place anyway?" (Y/n) grumbled to herself. The library was big enough for certain halls to be dead. People were spaced out generously between each wing and stairwell, allowing for the quiet to ring out in silence. Around the corner, a glimpse of a black trench coat caught (Y/n)'s eyes. She paused, brows knitting. It was probably nothing.

"Was it truly?"

(Y/n) froze. Thin, bony hands crawled up her shoulders like thousands of tiny insects. Fingertips pressed into the skin of her throat, squeezing until she couldn't breathe.

"Humans truly are foul," seethed Kibutsuji. "Look at that one named 'Hari'. We both know he lied. Your dear brother only wants to order him along to his every whim."

(Y/n)'s chest burned with fury. This wasn't real. It wasn't. She knew full well Kibutsuji was dead (she saw him die), yet these hands stealing the oxygen from her lungs, and this voice so disgustingly smooth like oil, were too real not to be. She yearned for the cool steel of her katana, the comfort of her Breaths that would not come.

"I should have killed you from the start."

(Y/n) heaved in a strained breath and violently coughed. The air kept escaping from her lungs, never quite coming back, but never quite leaving. Those hands were still secured around her throat, squashing her with strength that should have crushed her skull to bits.

The world turned hazy. Tears blurred (Y/n)'s vision and she let out a strained cry. What was happening to her? Was this the fault of those phantom flashes of her worst nightmares? A mere hallucination caused by lack of sleep and excessive stress? (Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut. She imagined those nights in her estate where she sat in Akaza's secure arms. They would lie down on a futon, snuggled up in thick blankets as the lantern's light flickered across their faces.

Nothing could ever hurt her, ever chase away the warmth provided in those gentle persimmon eyes. If Akaza were here, what would he say?

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

The air slowly returned to (Y/n)'s lungs, filling her body with sweet oxygen. Angry, bitter tears ran down her cheeks, hot droplets that burned into her skin. She trembled pathetically, writhing against the too-clean tile floors of the library. She just wanted to disappear. Forever. That was how it was supposed to be, how her fate should've ended in the first place.

Footsteps echoed against the quiet halls, drawing (Y/n)'s attention from her laboured breathing. She had to get a grip before that person saw her. Before she really became someone she truly hated forever. This weakness, this vulnerability--it had to end. Now.

A man knelt to the ground, black coat swaying as he sat down. "Drink some water." He handed her a bottle. (Y/n) tried to refuse, but he shoved it into her hands and helped twist the seal open. She shakily took a sip, allowing the cool liquid to soothe her itchy throat.

Thoughts of the past and ghosts of the dead whirled in circles without an end. (Y/n) heaved out a rattling breath and coughed before taking a swig of water.

"You were coughing a lot," --the voice was cool, yet hot like a fire-- "I thought you were choking."

(Y/n) swallowed hard and closed the bottle. She squeezed it between her trembling fingertips, gaze hesitantly rising to meet the stranger's. Electric blue eyes, raven black hair...

"Dabi...?"

"That's me." he said with a nod. "I thought you'd forget, but I guess healing random people on the streets does leave an impression." For a split moment, a split second, concern flashed in his eyes. It vanished just as quickly as a flash of light. (Y/n) heaved out a sigh and gripped the sleeves of her coat with white knuckles. "Why are you here?"

"You should drink more water. You were coughing your lungs out five seconds ago."

Of course (Y/n) was coughing, she felt someone choking her half to death. But it wasn't like Dabi would know, nor did he need to. It wasn't his concern even when he sat beside her, waiting patiently for her to compose herself. She took a long swig of water before closing the bottle again. "Thanks."

Dabi's face was unreadable. He looked like he wanted to say something, but at the same time couldn't. "What are you doing here? It's a pretty late even for you." (Y/n) rubbed at her teary eyes with a shake of her head. She slowly stood, knees threatening to wobble under her weight. "Nothing. You?"

"Nothing either," Dabi shrugged. "It's windy outside. I didn't want to walk home covered in snow at the moment." Whatever 'at the moment' meant, he didn't elaborate. (Y/n) sniffled a little, gaze focused on the way she gripped her sleeves tight. She hoped with all her heart that he didn't see the tears and the red puffiness of her eyes. "How...long have you been sitting here?"

Cue another shrug. Dabi didn't seem like the best conversationalist, but who wouldn't be after seeing some young girl collapse on the floor like she was in cardiac arrest? The very thought of having him walk in on her most vulnerable moment sent heat flaring to her cheeks.

Thankfully, Dabi didn't mention anything of what he saw. He stood, dusting off his thick trench coat from imaginary dust. "You look like you haven't slept in weeks." he said with an incredulous breath. "You should go home before the snow gets worse." (Y/n) didn't have the strength to frown, so she leaned her head back against the wall instead. She shook her head, heaving out a rattling sigh. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Your brother?"

(Y/n) shook her head. "A friend. He needed to help my brother with something." Dabi's neutral expression soured. He took a seat on a nearby bench and folded his arms, gaze boring holes into the wall. (Y/n) didn't care to look him in the eye, or ask why he hadn't left when none of this was his business. The troubled glaze in his eyes, the little pout of displeasure.

Why did Dabi care to stick around? He must have had better things to do, especially for someone as sketchy as him, anyway. What kind of idiot walked around with only a thin shirt and baggy trousers in the wintertime? (Y/n) harshly wiped at her teary eyes, sniffling. "Don't you have...something better to do?"

"No." replied Dabi. "Do you?"

"No."

With a single flicker of his eyes, (Y/n)'s gaze found his own reluctantly. Warm lamps reflected off the tear streaks on her flushed cheeks and Dabi looked away, insides churning like stormy seas. He didn't like the way his palms began to sweat, the way his heart rammed against his chest. "Damn, this is getting me worked up again." Dabi ran a thumb over the scars underneath his eyes. He must have been wiping something, but (Y/n) couldn't tell. "What do you mean," she eyed him tiredly, "'again'?"

"Nevermind, that thought's better dead anyway."

(Y/n) closed her eyes and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. She didn't pursue the questionable topic, it wasn't worth the effort. What mattered was the fact that Hari ditched her and it was all Kai's fault. What made them think it was respectable to do such a thing?

Blood roared in (Y/n)'s ears, pounding against her head like a hammer. She sipped the water, "I should go." Dabi glanced at her doubtfully, fists balled in the pockets of his trench coat. "Take a look outside first."

Beyond the cool windows were flurries of snowflakes pelting against the foggy glass. The wind howled and raged, much like the uncertainties pooling in (Y/n)'s muddled mind. She sucked her teeth, a small 'tch' leaving her lips. "It's fine, a little snow won't kill me."

Dabi raised a brow in challenge. Yeah, because it wasn't like he saw her hacking her lungs out and crying on the floor mid anxiety attack. "Why do you want to leave so damn badly? It's like you want to end up collapsed in the snow, dead from frost bite. It's cold outside, and you said your friend was waiting for you."

"I don't think that would be so bad. Dying, I mean." (Y/n) paused mid-sip, eyes widening. The muddy thoughts in her mind cleared with a shiver and she licked her chapped lips. She didn't mean to say that out loud, much less in the presence of someone she knew for less than an hour. "Bye, Dabi. Thanks for the water and...listening to me ramble."

A breath escaped his lips and he stood, impatiently tapping a foot against the ground. It was rare he did that anymore, but it seemed today was just one of those days he couldn't sit still. "Hey, where do you think you're going, Doll?" She sent him a faint glare. It didn't have much heart, and Dabi knew it was because she felt bad for giving him the cold shoulder. "A walk is all."

"A walk," he echoed with a huff. "Have fun in the freezing cold."

---

The snow had piled high on the streets where sky scrapers towered over busy roads. People frantically fled into the comfort of any nearest building, hoods held high and scarves wrapped tight. The sun had long set, casting the world in the gloom of a darkened night.

The wind howled and punched a fist-full of snow into (Y/n)'s face. She placed a hand at her forehead to block the snow from her view and sniffled. The cold didn't bother her, but it felt like needles pierced her skin every time snow decided to smack her head-on.

A vibration caught (Y/n)'s attention and she fished out her phone before swiping at the screen. "Hi, Hawks."

"Hey, Little Birdie," he paused on the other end, "something wrong?"

A frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips. It never seemed to really go away these days. "No. Was there something you needed to talk about?"

"I could say the same to you," --(Y/n) heard the frown in his voice-- "especially when you sound exhausted."

It was hard to say no to Hawks. Just the sound of his chipper voice sent warmth plummeting through (Y/n)'s veins. She could already see him with that dazzlingly casual smile and those amber eyes so bright and sharp with knowledge. It was unfair, truly unfair. Hawks was too observational for his own good, just like Kai, and Hari (when he wanted to be).

"I...don't really know," (Y/n) muttered. "It's complicated." A flicker of doubt erupted in the darkness of her mind. If she confided in Hawks about those phantom hands around her neck and those voices so close they were real, would he understand? Would he comfort her, bring her the light falling through her trembling fingertips?

"Everything's complicated." Hawks agreed. "Things just keep getting messier around here, but if it makes you feel better, I'm here to listen."

Listen. That wasn't what (Y/n) needed. She just...she just wanted to set the world on pause and sit down and exist. It wasn't such a hard thing to ask, simply impossible. There was no way to put anything on pause, or take a breather when her life was in shambles.

Somehow, the words decided to fall from her lips, a desperate mumble heard only through the wind by a miracle. "Remember that night?" (Y/n) numbly muttered. "The one before you left for Kyushu?"

"Yeah, I remember. You were nervous about something."

(Y/n) heaved in a breath and shivered, but not from the cold. Here goes nothing. "I think I'm going crazy. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I'm starting to believe Kibutsuji never really died. He keeps...it's like he's haunting me. Like he never died and it's..."

Scary.

"...stupid how I keep thinking about it."

A long silence stretched over the line. Gods, this was a bad idea. Just the thought of disappointing Hawks with these outlandish claims made her heart ache with pain. Maybe he'd leave her, revoke everything he said from before, and throw her into a psych ward. Maybe he'd get angry, or even--

Hawks sucked in a breath, that easy tone of his smoothing out the creases in his voice. "You sure you haven't been sleeping enough?" He sounded beyond concerned, but thankfully not disappointed. "I get why you think that, but that's impossible. I'm sure of it."

(Y/n) sniffled in the cold and brushed a few snowflakes from her eyelashes. "I know. Sometimes though, I feel like he's grabbing me. I don't think I've fallen that far to hallucinate so badly.'

"I agree." Hawks tightly said. "But believe me when I say stress and paranoid don't go well with lack of sleep. Don't forget to take care of yourself, Little Birdie. I'm sure that'll help you loads. And on the bright side, I'll be coming back up to your prefecture in a couple days. You'll be seeing me again really soon, isn't that great?"

(Y/n) felt her tense shoulders easing. "That's great. I'm glad. Now, about why you called me...?" Hawks hummed in agreement. "I just wanted to check up on you and chat a little. Don't worry, nothing bad's been going on. I've just been super busy with work."

The cold prick of doubt pierced (Y/n)'s heart again. She bristled, lips pressed into a thin line. The wind continued to howl, kicking up flurries of white through the city's bright lights. "Are you sure that's it?" she inquired. "Because if there's something else..."

Hawks scoffed on the other end. "The twins are a pain--why are they coming over right now? Geez, I can't catch a break from them or their boss." He paused. "We can talk more later, okay? Don't sweat it, I'll see you in a few days. If anything happens and you want to talk, you can always text me."

"Okay."

"Bye, Little Birdie. Get some sleep!"

The line went dead and (Y/n) slipped her phone back into her pocket. She wasn't sure how long she stood by the road, fists clenched tight and heart stuttering in her chest. There was a possibility Hawks was lying, but for the sake of her own sanity, she had to believe. Just for now, until she figured out what was wrong with her raging mind.

"You're still outside?" inquired a sultry voice. "Like I said, your friend probably won't come for a while." (Y/n) didn't need to turn around to know who stood beside her, huddled in a trench coat and a hoodie. Dabi must have ran to the store to either purchase or steal it (probably the latter).

"Don't you have something better to do than concern yourself with me?" (Y/n) turned to face him, cheeks flushed red and nose running from the cold. The below freezing temperatures didn't bother her, but the distant look of concern on Dabi's face did. He seemed to be thinking hard about something. "Your friend's an irresponsible idiot."

"How would you know?"

"It's late and he still hasn't picked you up." Dabi shook his head in disapproval. "You're already becoming a snowman, how's he gonna find you when you're covered in snow?" He pulled his sleeves down and dusted off the piles of snow clinging to (Y/n)'s thick woolen coat. She could only stare, a familiar warmth bursting in her chest.

Electric blue eyes, a rounded face with a pointy chin. Flames. Scorching, hot flames. (Y/n)'s jaw tensed, brows furrowing. "I feel like I've seen you before, but I can't remember." she muttered. She blew out a breath, puffy white tendrils rising high into the darkened skies. "But maybe I'm just saying that because I had a friend with a fire Quirk." She paused, gaze slowly turning to meet Dabi's distant gaze. "Funnily enough, he had blue flames like yours."

"That so?"

(Y/n) frowned to herself and studied his expression analytically. Her empty eyes illuminated in the sparse city lights, where snowflakes and icy winds bit at her flushed cheeks. Dabi met her gaze and knitted his brows. "What?"

(Y/n) shook her head to clear her mind. Even if Touya-kun did remind her of Dabi, they were clearly two different people. There was no warmth in Dabi's eyes, save for the burning hatred of silent threats. He was after something, a personal grudge perhaps.

And if (Y/n) learned anything in her time as a Hashira, such feelings never truly faded. She sensed the boiling anger hidden beneath Dabi's aloof nature, the dangerous way he teetered over the edge of life and death. A part of her wanted to believe he was Touya-kun for the sake of her own closure.

That night where flames piled high and the orphanage burned to the ground, there was only one phrase that echoed in (Y/n)'s mind forevermore. One that echoed when tears trailed down Touya-kun's cheeks and panicked fear bled into his eyes. His lips moved without sound, a sound (Y/n) couldn't recall. Whatever he said must have been important, because afterwards, he turned his back.

And as if death were a friend, he walked into a wall of fierce, scorching flames and disappeared.

"Hey Doll, is that guy your friend?" (Y/n) followed Dabi's gaze to a familiar man in a grey scarf and an over-sized coat. He stood off to the side of the road, frantically typing away at his phone with a scowl. (Y/n) placed a hand to her temple to ease an oncoming headache. Whatever Hari was doing, he looked in over his head. "Yeah, that's him. Bye Dabi."

"Bye." He waved. In the flurries of snow, (Y/n) seemed to part through the icy wind. Each step radiated power, a strength hidden beneath layers and layers of sorrow. A frown tugged at the edges of Dabi's lips and he wondered why he bothered to get involved in the first place.

But then again, was it so bad to repay an old debt?

Modern Era Secrets!

-Kai knows where (Y/n) at nearly all times because he has the 'find my iPhone app'. Since they have linked accounts, he can just pull up where her device is and see her location
-Dabi followed (Y/n) into the library after killing a few guys that annoyed him
-Kai was nearly valedictorian in high school, but he was beaten by some play-boy rich kid
-Dabi does a little 'tap dance' when he is happy. It's not actually a dance, but he gets antsy. It's an old habit from his childhood that relapsed after he met (Y/n).

Dabi is really interesting. He reminded me a bit of Kai with that ruthless streak and the aloof nature. Both also come from rough backgrounds and have strong Quirks, yet both ended up drastically different. Kai is ruthless, yes, but he still has (two) people he devotes himself to. Dabi? He has nothing. He'd rather see his family burn in hell than miss the chance to one-up Endeavor.

Dabi also believes in the death of Hero Society because of its hypocrisy, yet can't even reflect on the amount of people he's hurt. It's incredibly selfish and villain-like. Then we take a look at his upbringing, the facts that stewed the monster within and made him so clearly cut on the fact that Hero Society is fake. He claims (far into the future if we reference this book's timeline) that he follows Stain's ideology, but is that really true? Dabi seems to focus solely on destroying Society as a whole rather than rebuilding it into what could be (unlike Spinner, who still clings to that Stain-philosophy). Dabi doesn't care about the inequalities, but rather, the fact that heroes can't look past their arrogance to see what goes on behind the scenes (wannabe heroes looking for money, Endeavor, those who hide behind what the media thinks they are).

Kai on the other hand isn't vengeful. He instead works to create a new society where people are 'normal' without this delusional outlook on what they can be because they think they are 'special' (Hero Syndrome). Kai may have an inferiority complex due to his youth since he wasn't like U.A. students and heroes on TV. He was just Chisaki Kai (and in this case, your elder brother). Having Overhaul gave him no power to change his circumstances, and because that was how his life was like, a part of him is trying to find that status quo, or rather, a reason to make everyone the same as what he wants society to be--normal.

It's terrible what happened, and I'm sure that if they had a chance in their childhood to foster a stable future, they may have turned out differently (or at least stood a chance). Even so, they are still what society has branded them--villains. People of evil. Unlike Hawks, they chose that path to walk. They did not resist, nor did they try to find a solution/goal to dedicate themselves to for the greater good (as you do in this story). In the end, it's all really sad. There's nothing more to it.

Chapter Text

'And a part of me keeps holding on
Just in case it hasn't gone
I guess I still care
Do you still care?'
-When We Were Young, Adele

It was silent--unbearably silent. If (Y/n) had dropped her phone, it would echo like a rock in a cavern. The car lowly hummed along the snowy roads, breaking the heavy (terrifyingly quiet) silence was the 'swish-swish' of the windscreen wipers. (Y/n) fiddled with her hands, swallowing hard the lump in her throat.

"Hari--"

"The snow." He gave the steering a jerk and the car skidded to the left, tilting violently on its side. (Y/n) slammed into her seat as she grasped the handles in an iron grip. It was a miracle police cars weren't ripping through the streets after them. "You could have gotten hypothermia, frost bite, or sick. Again. You should know that it doesn't take much for the body to stop functioning at low temperatures."

Anyone who grew up around two biology nerds would have known (or anyone with half a brain, really). (Y/n) pursed her lips tightly, sighing. "I was dressed warm, and besides, I wasn't outside for long." Hari's nostrils flared and he rounded another turn, narrowly swerving into the wrong lane.

"You weren't outside for long? You were dressed warm?" he echoed, correcting the steering. "Your jacket was piled with snow, so you could have been outside from fifteen minutes to half an hour! I told you to wait for me, what did you decide to go outside for?"

A bitter laugh threatened to break through (Y/n)'s throat. She sucked her teeth with a small 'tch'. "I don't want to hear your lecture when you left me at the library. If it was so urgent, Nii-chan could have gone himself."

"And it was." Hari quickly said. "You know I wouldn't have left you at the library if it could've been helped. Kai was busy, he couldn't go so I went instead."

Anger burned in (Y/n)'s heart, a bubbling sort of conflict she couldn't quite freeze over. There was no harm in bringing her along as long as she wasn't in the room to overhear. Yet Hari instead chose to ditch her, how great was that? "You could have taken me with you. Oyaji did that sometimes since he didn't like leaving me alone in a public space, or you could have left me in the car."

Snow pelted hard against the windows, casting the roads in a never ending sea of white. Hari slowed the car, that passionate worry vanishing into a tired frown. "It's cold outside, I couldn't just leave you in here." (Y/n) wouldn't believe it even though it was true. She folded her arms across her chest, eyes hard as ice. "You're lying to me."

"No, I'm not."

(Y/n) stared at him through the rear view mirror in disbelief. She sensed the change in energy where warmth was lacking and unease trickled like a faulty faucet. Clearly, Hari forgot she was skilled in the sixth sense, else he wouldn't have lied to her face like it were his second job. "You and Kai are both the same."

Hari pursed his lips harder, gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I'm going home after I drop you off. If you're hungry, I can cook you something if you'd like." (Y/n) sucked her teeth again and folded her arms. "It's fine, I'm not hungry."

And as if it were written in a book, that eerie, heavy silence fell over the car again. (Y/n) fidgeted in her seat, even when Hari turned on the radio to chase away the tension.

Chisaki (Y/n) was a Hashira. A damn, bloody Hashira who fought tooth and nail against the Demon King. Yet here she sat, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Eri still had yet to show up, Oyaji's status was a mystery (as he was still bedridden), and academics were biting her in the behind every moment of her waking hours. It was all an itch in her side, a thorn that couldn't be removed.

The house soon came into view. Once the car came to a slow in the driveway and Hari had it parked, (Y/n) brushed past him and sped-walked inside. She quickly took a shower before finishing her nightly routine and locking herself in her room.

The boba lamp glared at her in the dark. It had a cute little smile printed upon its cream coloured surface, as if it taunt and remind her of the happiness she would never achieve. As long as shadows existed in her path, there could never be light. (Y/n) sighed to herself, gaze falling to the clip clutched between her fingers.

Each tiny gemstone glittered in the dim light, refracting into beams of light upon the ceiling. (Y/n) recalled the night she laid on her futon with Akaza by her side.

"They look like stars," he had said with a gentle smile. "In that book you were reading last month, it talked about wishing upon them to make our dreams come true. Do you believe in that?"

"I do." (Y/n) had replied. "It's not a bad thing to have hope, and when you're not around, it reminds me that wherever you are, we still share the same sky." Akaza smiled afterwards, a lovingly gentle quirk of his lips that made the cold night warmer.

(Y/n) pulled on her haori and leaned against the windowsill, gaze rising to the darkened skies. The snow had long stopped falling, and with the breezes, each cloud fluttered towards the west, allowing the moon to shine along with its children the stars. She shut her eyes and heaved out a breath.

A plan was better said than a measly dream. How could one reach something intangible if there weren't even a starting point? This family, the one she loved with all her heart, cracked beneath her feet. No matter how much she wished for things to return to normal, deep down, she had her answer. Nothing, no matter how hard she tried, would ever be the same again.

And that left (Y/n)'s heart empty. Hardened by the guilt that ate at her soul.

"It seems the only foe you ever face is yourself."

Akaza had said that once when she was only but a girl. Then he pushed her forward, reminded her of the strength pulsing through her veins. (Y/n)'s fists clenched until half moons tattooed her reddened palms. The smiling face of Eri filled her mind, along with the hearty laughter of Oyaji.

(Y/n)'s veins burned with disgust. How could she sit still and call it a night? It was cowardly to hide away and shut her eyes. If Sanemi were here? Well, she would never hear the end of it. He'd hate her forever because there was one thing all Hashira did. They rose above the ground, soared to impossible heights. Even when they burned up by the flames of the sun, they continued on, because that's what it meant to be a literal pillar of the Corps.

"Damn it all." (Y/n) threw open the door. "Damn it all." With steps as silent as the night, she made her way through the halls and towards the front door. She scooped up a pair of zori sandals and paused beside a little nook in the wall.

A vase sat perched underneath a scroll (some poem Oyaji loved) with fake flowers sticking out like sore thumbs. Nostalgia filled (Y/n)'s heart as she held the vase delicately between her palms. Long ago, she used to bring in fresh flowers from the garden to brighten up the home. Whoever replaced them with fakes must have known she would do the same when the chance arose.

Meaning whatever was in the basement could only be answers. (Y/n)'s heart began to pound, a constant rhythm that sent blood roaring in her ears. She placed the vase on the ground and placed a hand to one of the wooden tiles. It had been years since she last set foot in the basement. What if the password had changed? What if it was a whole new mechanism altogether?

(Y/n) cursed herself for not thinking ahead of time. If this mission came to a premature end, she hoped Kai wouldn't be too angry. With a gentle tap, she began a simple rhythm. Two beats, a single rest, five quicker beats, and then one, two, a rest.

The door slide aside and a set of stairs opened up. (Y/n) heaved in a long breath and pulled on her sandals. With a heavy heart, she made her descent towards hope (an end to all these loose knots). The door closed behind, clicking softly shut.

It was cold. Colder than the occasional breezes that liked to leak from the cracks in her window. (Y/n) was naturally inclined towards the chill, an affinity created through grueling Hashira training for the Breath of Ice. Yet now, as she traveled through the bleach white concrete hallways, goosebumps appeared on her skin.

Was it always this cold in the basement? Either the insulation was poor or someone stupidly left one of the many exits open. (Y/n) frowned to herself in thought. She rubbed at her arms and huffed into her hands.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a few members making their way around the maze. They were too far to notice her, especially when some stopped to mutter about going the wrong way.

Every few hundred meters loomed heavy metal doors. They were all bolted shut and out of use. The high ceilings where pipes and wires hummed ominously didn't do well to ease her concern. The lights were already too bright or too dim, some nearly blinding. Just what had been going on these past four years?

(Y/n) decided sticking to the dimmer halls a safer option. She could at least hide in the shadows instead of waddling around like some lost duckling. Each step made her want to shiver, each breath cold enough to freeze her lungs. She didn't want to think about what could possibly be true. Not when she wasn't ready to face forward.

Hawks shrugged and chewed on his meal. "I heard that your brother took over the Shie Hassaikai because your Oyaji got sick. There was a rumour though, some say it had to do with a bigger issue, whatever that means. You'd probably have more luck figuring that out than me."

Ignorance was complete bliss, a gift that gave (Y/n) a chance to live a life of normalcy. She had an elder brother again who cooked and took care of her, a constant friend who didn't disappear for months to go on a mission, and a home to return to at the end of each day. Life was...well...blissful, wasn't it?

Her family cared for her. They loved her. To even think, as she slipped through the basement, about what could have happened to Eri made her cold heart threaten to shatter.

Thump, thump.

(Y/n) placed a hand to her head, jaw tensing. A forming migraine made it feel like someone had taken a hammer to her skull in a combo attack.

Thump, thump.

But that was trivial. This pain was nothing if Eri was suffering. Long ago, Kai had confided in (Y/n) about his future plans and what he wanted to do with Eri (a mere child). The notion made (Y/n) angry, so neither of them ever spoke about it again.

Until the circumstances changed and the situation evolved.

Footsteps echoed against the static silence. (Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat and she nearly choked on the scent of death. It was a lifeless feeling, one that made her fingertips tingle with instinct (to draw a sword, to draw someone's blood).

The footsteps were much too close, just around the corner. (Y/n) dove behind a wall, right at a four-way intersection.

A group of three men in plague masks sauntered side by side through the hall. One complained about not fighting while a blond man with messy hair scolded him for being so reckless. The third one looked uninterested; he must have been dragged along.

(Y/n) steadied her breathing as the men slowly passed by. They were less than half a meter away, only five steps from discovering her behind the wall. She prayed they wouldn't turn around the corner and see her crouched against the frigid wall.

The men passed without incident.

(Y/n) heaved a sigh in relief. That was close. Now, if she continued straight, she would find a.) the general meeting room, b.) a hallway for storage rooms, and c.) more rooms which she was sure weren't there before. Kai must have been really busy renovating this place for his needs. It was larger than before, with confusing twists and turns that made (Y/n)'s head spin.

Getting lost here was the last thing she needed, but with her semi-limited knowledge, it shouldn't be a problem. After all, she did contribute to the making of this place. Once, when it was much smaller and less like a labyrinth. All she had to do was stick to this route and--

"What are you doing here?"

(Y/n) thought her heart had stopped.

Hari wasn't supposed to be here. He said he was going home after he dropped her off because it was routine. Hari always went home in the evening, or after dinner. He didn't stay the night unless Kai needed him for something important such as business.

Which...

...which meant...

A sinking feeling hit (Y/n)'s stomach. She silently stood and turned to face Hari. He stood tall, arms crossed as he peered down at her through his full-face mask. He only ever wore it when he was representing the Hassaikai with the persona of a cold-blooded Yakuza.

Two men flanked Hari, both clad in black and the signature accessorized plague masks. One was short and stubby, no taller than a pre-schooler, and the other, a tall man with a poncho and a large hat. The one in the hat began to laugh pompously. "She won't answer you, look at how terrified she is. She's sweating bullets!"

(Y/n) was not terrified and Hari clearly knew by the way her hands were clenched into fists. He saw her fight and he knew full-well none of them stood a chance.

The man in the hat placed a hand over his chest with a dramatic swish of his poncho. "Allow me, the amazing Nemoto Shin of the Eight Bullets, to interrogate. Why are you here and what are your motives?"

"I came here to see what Hari and Nii-chan were hiding from me." (Y/n)'s jaw went slack. She couldn't stop herself from speaking. "I wanted to know if Eri was here."

"How do you know this?"

The answer was ripped from (Y/n)'s lips. "I don't." She glared between the three men, those harsh white lights casting deep shadows upon her eyes. If looks could kill, everyone would be ten feet under.

Nemoto paused, as if he sensed the danger in (Y/n)'s presence. He spoke anyway, like an idiot. "Then why are you here?" (Y/n) swiftly took a step forward and the world began to spin. She stumbled like a drunken man. "I felt guilty about Eri," she grabbed the wall with trembling hands, "Kai and Hari wouldn't tell me where she was, so I wanted to find out for myself."

The overwhelming presence of guilt made (Y/n)'s gaze rise to Hari. He stood stiff as a board, arms pressed into his side as he watched with conflict in his lilac eyes. No matter what remorse he felt, (Y/n) couldn't let it slide. Not this time after she already came so far.

The world continued to spin and her head continued to pound. Was this the effect of the Quirk one of them used on her? (Y/n) brushed it off, chocking back the urge to vomit. "You...lied to me!" she stammered. "You said you were...going home."

A sigh left Hari's lips and if (Y/n) weren't feeling dizzy and motion sick, she would have strangled him. He turned to the one in the hat with a tired scowl underneath that mask. "Nemoto, you talk too much--

"What?! I was just doing my job!"

"--and now look what you did. Come on, let's go upstairs, (Y/n)." He held out a hand for her to grasp but she slapped it away. The Quirk had no effect on her strength. If not for her lack of coordination, she probably would have broken Hari's arm in two.

"I won't fall for that," she seethed, "not any longer."

Pain was a friend and betrayal an acquaintance. Now that (Y/n) stood in this very basement with her side pressed against the wall and a churning sickness that made her want to vomit whatever sat in her empty stomach, she understood.

It seemed about time to get to know betrayal, even when it hurt more than physical pain ever could.

"You're...delusional if you think...think I was stupid enough to believe your lies." (Y/n) swallowed her nausea and forced herself upright against the wall. She had to speak now before the chance slipped past her fingers like sand. "First you allow these...hooligans to use their Quirks on me, then...you think it's okay to just...brush everything aside as if...it were...nothing? I've been honest with you, I told you...told you things I wouldn't tell anyone else...but you..."

Hari's whole body went numb. Limp.

"...all you do is lie to me! Always." (Y/n) started forward, knees wobbling. She ripped off Hari's mask and threw it aside. It flew somewhere behind the tiny man as she sloppily yanked him by the coat towards her face. His nose nearly brushed her own as she searched his eyes for some sort of honesty. Some sort of reassurance that maybe she was wrong and that the man she grew up beside hadn't disappeared for good.

"Where is Eri? What have...have you done to her?"

For a moment, Hari looked like he was going to answer. He could no longer hide behind his mask and was now naked to (Y/n)'s piercing golden eyes. If he hadn't blinked twice, he would have seen Kai instead of her.

The little man suddenly took hold of (Y/n)'s leg. "Let go of Chrono, you impudent brat!" She regarded the man as if he were the dirt under her shoe. A mere glance was enough for him to shiver and recoil, a loud 'KYEEEEEH!' escaping his lips. She kicked her leg up and the little man went flying into the ceiling. He flew a couple meters down the hall before falling unconscious in a heap.

Nemoto ran after the little man. "Mimic!"

That was no matter. Those two accomplices were mere obstacles in (Y/n)'s path. She gave Hari's collar a shake and he grasped her wrists as if his life depended on it. "Answer me, Hari! Where is she?!"

"I can't tell you," he said. "I can't!"

Sharp steps echoed against (Y/n)'s ears. She froze, breath catching in her throat like the bile threatening to rise from her gut. Each step was like the chime of a clock towards the countdown of death. She shivered, dread crawling down her spine like tiny little fire ants.

A hand planted itself on (Y/n)'s shoulder. She flinched, releasing Hari from her grasp.

"So this is the one rule you break?" Kai's stern voice froze everyone in their spots. "(Y/n), I've never asked much from you yet you come down here knowing full well you shouldn't? You disobeyed me and it's late. You need to go to sleep." He paused to glare up at the ceiling and (Y/n) eyed him carefully before following his gaze.

Hung between the pipes was a man with more beer bottles than any doctor would recommend. He drank from two at the same time, slopping the brown liquid down his shirt. Kai grimaced distastefully and (Y/n) felt herself doing the same.

"Sakaki," he coolly stated, "stop using your Quirk on her. She's getting motion sick."

"Ha, ha! Ohhhh, so thaaas why u're lookin' at me funnay? Suuure thing, Overhawlll."

Kai didn't look satisfied. He sighed lowly and wrapped an arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders to steady her. She met his gaze where those eyes (the same as hers) were hard with thought.

A plethora of words sat on Kai's tongue, a string of angry comments, biting insults, and strict words that could make anyone drop to their knees.

But this was (Y/n). His little sister, his little sunshine, his little everything. He didn't have the heart to scold her when her expression was heavy with grief. "Let's go." Kai said. "You still have to study that biology unit again."

As (Y/n) searched Kai's face for answers, for even an inkling of understanding that he usually gave, she found nothing. No empathy. No guilt. No anger. Simply...nothing, as if Kai wasn't sure what to feel. It made a pang fill her heart because this look she knew well. It wasn't of a particular emotion, only the signs of disappointment.

Still, no matter how cold the blizzard, she could brave it. Survive it. (Y/n) opened her mouth to speak, prepared to have the time of her life interrogating for all the things she yearned to seek.

Until she felt a pang in her bones--a tremble, a shake within her soul.

"Weak." Kibutsuji's voice echoed in (Y/n)'s mind like a bell. "You are weak."

Suddenly, that weird Quirk that made her all queasy and nauseous vanished. In its place was adrenaline that pumped though her veins with the instinct to kill.

Kill.

Kill.

"(Y/n)."

She heaved in a strangled breath. Only hours ago, this same feeling left her incapacitated by the voice in the back of her mind. Kibutsuji was dead, she told herself (over and over again). It was all her imagination. But if it was, then why had she began to suffocate in the library? To forget the ability to breathe?

"(Y/n)."

Breathe.

"(Y/n)!"

Breathe.

Someone was shaking her. There was a group of people surrounding her, too. It was all quite nostalgic, like that time where she was ready to die in the first hour of dawn. The warm, red glow of the sun had fallen upon her cheeks, a touch she could barely feel with the numbness spreading through her body.

(Y/n) had been spent, exhausted by the countless hours of abusing her endurance until the last hour. Giyuu had been by her side, squeezing her hand as her wonderful friends, Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Kanao, mourned over her awaited death.

Everyone else had died. Some wished to be reincarnated, forgiven in a new life where they could be in peace. But that sort of wish was fleeting, naive. Because here (Y/n) was, encased in this cold, cruddy basement where the lights were either too bright or too dim and the halls a never ending maze of of confusion.

(Y/n)'s heart clenched tightly in her chest.

Kai knelt before her with Hari. Those men (the Eight Bullets?) flanked them. Judging by their movements, they were all talking, yet it was as if (Y/n) were stuck in a blizzard, surrounded by nothing but those white flakes of snow. She couldn't hear anyone over the sound of the wind, of the raging voice pounding in her spinning head.

An irritatingly disgusting voice like silk filled her ears. It was all she could hear over the shouting, the screeching of blood and the heart pumping in sync.

Cold hands were upon (Y/n)'s skin, slowly dragging each fingertip across the scars that had long healed from her Quirk. A man materialized before her in a mist of black. He planted a hand on either side of her head, ebony bangs falling just over his half-lidded eyes.

"I do admit," --(Y/n) wanted to scream-- "the more you grow, the more beautiful you become. I see now why Akaza fell in love with you, how sad that it turned out to be a mistake."

Kibutsuji dug his nails into (Y/n)'s cheeks until blood ran down her face. She ignored the jolts of pain, silently enduring through gritted teeth. "You aren't real." she seethed. "We killed you." Kibutsuji tightened his grip on her face, yanking her towards him until his warm breath fanned across her face. His pale skin looked sickly, near transparent in the light above.

"You wish that were true, Little Ice Hashira. Just as you wish to have faith in your 'family'. You may give in to your deluded wants like a fool, but there is one thing you are right about. They both lied to you and still do."

Through the hatred pulsing in Kibutsuji's veins was truth. A truth that hurt, a truth that was much worse than his nails digging deeper and deeper into (Y/n)'s aching flesh.

Seeing was believing and she had not yet seen enough to take those words to heart. She raised a hand and clenched Kibutsuji's wrist in a grip that would have broken the bones of a normal human. "Leave...me alone!" His expression was only stone. "In this world of heroes and villains, you can only trust so much. You can feel reassurance now, because you are not alone."

But that was all she wanted to be right now. Alone in some forgotten place, like what she deserved. Anywhere but in the basement, or with her brother, or Hari, or Kibutsuji who just wouldn't leave her alone--!

"Come, (Y/n)." His grip loosened and he wrapped his bloodied hands around her shoulders enticingly. His touch was feather-light, seductive like a devil's. "Don't you wish to feel loved again?" he sweetly inquired. "We both have our goals and our wishes. We could help each other."

With that voice akin to oil, shivers were all that ran down (Y/n)'s spine. Yet danger, her constant in life, slipped her mind even if just a moment. If there was one person powerful enough to achieve the impossible, it was Kibutsuji with his library of knowledge. He was hundreds of years old, if not thousands. It would be simple, easy with his hand beside her own.

(Y/n) was never the smart or talented one. She was simply...(Y/n). There was nothing special to note. She was average, even if her grades were above that. Kai had always been the better one, the overachiever who every child's parents wished to have. The awards lining his shelf were enough of a tale.

This helping hand--wasn't it exactly what (Y/n) needed? With Hawks who withheld more than he told, with Kai and Hari who dodged questions like they were fire, everything would finally come to an end. Then...then (Y/n) would--

"I wish we could stand under the same sky."

Akaza's persimmon eyes, the loving yet teasing smile upon his lips. It was as if someone had dumped cold water on (Y/n) while she were sleeping. Her senses rose, her heart began to slow, and she was awoken to what was true.

Those sweet words in her ears were nothing but lies. To fall subject to that, to forget who (Y/n) was and why was the same as forfeiting her role as a Hashira. She was tired (exhausted), yet the end was not near no matter how close it felt. There was still time to make amends, still time to push through towards the light.

(Y/n) sent Kibutsuji a scowl made of ice. "Leave."

"(Y...n)...!"

The evil demon's face vanished. All that was left of his existence was the faint burning of where his nails had dug into her skin. No blood, no wounds. Simply nothing.

"(Y/n)!"

The world resumed its pace and those faded voices ambushed her ears like a gong. She sat up, hands sweaty and breaths frantic as someone tried forcing her to lie down on the (dirty) ground. She brushed whoever it was off and stood on unsteady feet, a hand pressed against the cool walls. "Don't...touch me."

Kai's fists relaxed and he silently stood. In his stern gaze were worlds of worry he could never admit, thousands of things he couldn't possibly say (it would ruin his reputation in front of the Eight Bullets). "I'll carry you to your room, you need to rest."

"No, I'm fine." (Y/n) sharply snapped. "I...don't need sleep...I need answers." Through the tresses of hair falling over her shadowed eyes and the constant spinning of her head, she fought to stay standing. To stay conscious. "Where's Eri?" She needed to know, needed to have some sort of reassurance to prove Kibutsuji wrong.

Silence. That was all that greeted (Y/n), like the car ride home a couple hours prior. She looked between Hari and Kai, internally pleading for someone to say something, anything. It couldn't be this quiet, it just couldn't when it allowed her mind to fill with Kibutsuji's voice (again) and flood with those sweet promises she craved to reach.

"We could help each other," he had said. As if the offer weren't tempting as is, it was a call that kept repeating her name.

Kai sighed to himself, rubbing a thumb along his knuckles in thought. "You're running on less than three hours of sleep, you aren't thinking straight. Haven't I told you already? I don't know, now come on, let's go." (Y/n) refused to move. If she did, it would mean accepting the fact that she needed help from that little voice in the back of her head.

"(Y/n)." Kai spoke more forcefully, brows knitted in that annoyed-yet-not-really way of his. "We're going now." When she refused to move, something in him threatened to bend and snap. His sister was beginning to prove a problem, a thwart in his meticulously crafted plans. He offered her everything she needed. What more did he have to slave away to accomplish?

A home. A comfortable room. Hot food he cooked himself. A bed. That was all a person needed to live well, and Kai knew because that was all he wanted when he was young. When they both were stuck on the streets as mere orphans. What could he be missing? What could he not see?

(Y/n) looked up from the ground and met Kai's gaze. There was something cynical in her stare, clinically passive. "I see," --he pulled off his glove and reached out a hand-- "so that's it, huh?"

The Bullets all tensed, whether in a morbid curiosity or a hidden fear.

And oh, Hari, whom loved and adored (Y/n) couldn't bear to watch in silence any longer. He was there when Oyaji was overhauled into a comatose state, there when Overhaul killed his own men for looking at him wrong, there with Eri, who was subject to painful experiments.

Hari was there. Always watching, observing. And now as Kai's hand inched towards (Y/n)'s head, he couldn't help but feel terror creeping up his spine for the first time since the car crash that early winter morning.

"Kai, wait--!"

His hand landed on (Y/n)'s head. Everyone expected a burst of red gore and an angry growl in disgust. Instead, Kai ruffled her hair, eyes softening ever so subtly. "You've been through enough tonight. I know you're tired."

Through the tresses of dark hair falling over her eyes, she mustered the strength to nod.

Empty. That was now (Y/n)'s heart as she sealed her lips shut and played dead. It was the only thing she could do to keep the revolting voice of Kibutsuji at bay, the only thing she could do to keep her heart from crying out in pain. "Mhm," she muttered.

Kai placed a hand to (Y/n)'s back and led her down the hall. His touch was gentle, as if he were afraid she could break. And maybe if he knew the nightmares that plagued her mind, he would lose sleep knowing he was right.

Hari stood still, frozen in time as he watched them leave. To think in that moment, he believed for a second that Kai would Overhaul his own sister. Maybe it was the fact that he'd seen it happen so many times to Eri that it became a fear in the back of his mind, or maybe he was just tired. Exhausted by the worry eating at his mind.

Hari wanted to kick himself to the moon and back, or even launch Mimic into the ceiling and across the hall for extra measure (like how (Y/n) did). Anything to distract him from the fear making his fingertips to tremble.

"It seems the Young Boss has his own troubles," said Nemoto. "I never knew he had a younger sister." Mimic scoffed and waddled towards the common room door. "She's more than just trouble. All she did was kick me and I nearly died! I'm surprised Overhaul didn't lock her in a room to rot, she's too dangerous to be left alive. You saw how angry he was, guess she got lucky."

Hari turned on his heel with an incoherent grumble. He didn't care for the petty gossip as long as no one insulted (Y/n). With the way his mind reeled and the pit burrowing into his gut, he decided it best to find somewhere to be alone. Somewhere where his fear could stop festering in his weary mind.

---

Playing dead. That seemed to be a common pattern (Y/n) forgot about.

In her youth, she played dead to stay alive, to endure the stinging pains in her cheeks and the shrill shouts of Auntie's insults. That wasn't the first nor last time. When Akaza and her had fought over something so trivial, she played dead to ignore the pangs digging into her heart.

Playing dead had been so easy. All (Y/n) had to do was seal her lips shut and stand still. That way, none of her biting words could escape, nor could they cut through and cause more harm than good. She was known for that--a magnet for trouble.

The cold snow ate away at whatever feeling was left in (Y/n)'s numb limbs. Her body had gone raw and red from winter's kiss, where only the gentle flutter of snowflakes caressed her cheeks. It was almost lovingly, like the way Akaza would use his thumb to wipe away her tears.

Tears that refused to exist.

(Y/n) had retreated to the backyard by the engawa shortly after Kai tucked her in. She dragged her feet through the snow piled high to her knees, sinking into her fleece pajama pants and into her boots. The blade in her hands glinted mercilessly, like an icicle falling over an innocent bystander.

A clean slash cut through the air and four straw mats tumbled to the snow. They looked rather lonely under the achingly bright moonlight, just like (Y/n), who stood tall among the dead of night. There were no demons to hunt in this era, no blood to continue painting her hands. She couldn't drown any longer in her duties, for there were none but to herself.

All that filled her heart was the burn of disgust and the heavy grasp of despair. It made (Y/n)'s throat constrict and her stomach rise with bile. She wanted to choke on the icy air, allow it to freeze her throat until it was unbearably dry and scratchy.

Because what more did (Y/n) deserve but a slow, painful punishment? She rubbed at the rosy skin on her face, right where a dark mark curled upon her cheek and jawline. Flames and ice shards--the mark of her Breath styles. It was a gift that spread among the Hashira like wildfire and a curse that stole away her years of life for strength.

(Y/n) repaired the straw mats and sliced through them again.

She remembered the first time she wanted to die. She stood at a cliff's edge, right where a swirling ocean churned with sea foam and driftwood. About a mile and a half away sat the beach she and Akaza visited during hot summer nights.

(Y/n) pierced through the mats, each cut as sharp and merciless as hail.

The second time was after Akaza had disappeared. (Y/n) had no choice but to run, run, run that night. To flee and find anywhere but home to take refuge in. When realization dawned on her that she had abandoned him, her heart sank and her mind reeled with the wishes to disappear forever.

(Y/n) stabbed the straw mats over and over. Her gaze focused on the single points of the shredded material, watching coldly as long needles fluttered across the sparkling white snow. She imagined them as Kibutsuji's insides seeping into the land, decomposing into nothing but forgotten ashes to the sun.

Here was the third wish to die that echoed in the back of (Y/n)'s mind. It was a broken record, where the song had no end and no beginning, middle, or bridge. It simply was, and that couldn't be more terrifying than the voice (that made her insides squirm and her skin crawl) residing in her head.

Kai hadn't said anything before he tucked (Y/n) in earlier. There was something unreadable about his eyes, something like regret or pain he couldn't put into words. He knitted his brows tightly and sighed before shutting the door. No, 'good night', no 'be ready for your studies in the morning'.

Only silence.

An unbearably heavy, horrid silence that made (Y/n) want to choke again. She heaved in a heavy breath, but it was as if she were being strangled again. Grasped until the life threatened to seep from her chest. This time, it had nothing to do with the haunting voice of Kibutsuji, but rather, herself.

Her fears, her woes--everything.

Because not only was (Y/n) a coward, but a pathetic idiot. A pathetic child who couldn't do anything to save anyone (not even herself). She stabbed the straw mats, eyes illuminating dangerously in the moonlight. You're so stupid, so stupid and pathetic and sad.

"Shut up," she bared her teeth into a growl, "shut up!"

Stupidstupidpathetic--oh so pathetic. And if any of her fellow Hashira saw that someone as useless as her survived while they died horrid, unfair deaths, they would drag her to the depths of hell and haunt her forever with the scarred burns of guilt.

What even made (Y/n) think going down to the basement was such a good idea in the first place? Even if she found Eri, then what? She had no home in the modern era, no money, or shelter from anything. Besides, Kai wouldn't let her leave, he'd force her to swear into secrecy, or turn her into a bedridden vegetable like Oyaji. She knew by the dangerous glint in his eyes that he wasn't a man of mercy (and never was).

The streets had hardened his heart to the familiar ice pulsing through (Y/n)'s veins. And oh, the whole idea of finding Eri had been blotched from the beginning. It was a hopeless because she was useless at everything she did.

(Y/n) collapsed on her knees in the snow, leaning her head against the hilt of her katana. Its brilliant steel shone with soft blues and royal purples, its light warm as the sun. Yet when it hit the sides of her face, reflected into her eyes, she couldn't have felt more colder. More frigid than in the presence of a past she could never start again.

The bright face of Kyojurou flashed in (Y/n)'s mind. She thought of what he would say to her right now and what he would do to make her stand up again. When they were training and days were especially difficult, he always offered a hand and gave her hair a ruffle.

Kokoro wo moyase.

"Kyojurou," --(Y/n) hated how she needed to call on him for help-- "what do I do?"

Kokoro wo moyase.

'Set your heart ablaze'. How? With what? The flames were nothing but little sparks in (Y/n)'s heart subject to the blizzards shaking her entire body rigid. She shivered with the chilling breeze, gaze wistfully rising to the flurries of snow fogging her vision. She squinted through the thousands of tiny snowflakes. It took her back to the winters of long ago, so filled with comfort and warmth. These bittersweet memories were some she refused to forget.

Yet here, in this cage, she couldn't grasp on to that fleeting film of happiness.

(Y/n) picked up her blade and dried it against her coat. In its reflection stared a girl with windswept hair and dark bags under empty eyes. She was crying painfully, sobbing endlessly to a void of infinite despair. And maybe, that was what she deserved for being a murderer, a sinner.

Kokoro wo moyase.

---

The next few days (or were they weeks?) were lonely and cold. (Y/n) wasn't used to being so cold with hands and feet that never quite warmed no matter how many times she sat by the furnace. Kai scolded her for slacking on homework, but Hari on the other hand, didn't have the heart for any chiding. He was silent, rather, like a slumbering animal that refused to wake for the springtime.

It was finally the cusp of the New Year, where people were more generous than not and in an especially jolly mood. (Y/n) wandered the streets alone, dragging her boots through the crunchy snow. Maybe she could forget her helplessness of that night, her absolute shame in believing she was something when she was nothing.

Kai was right about one thing, Hero Syndrome was a deluded belief for the mentally ill. What made (Y/n) believe, even for a second, that she stood a chance?

Downtown was covered in a collection of Christmas lights and wreathes. In the centre of the square stood a large tree decorated in tinsel garlands and over-sized plastic ornaments. It was almost nice to look at, if not for the annoying families and couples stopping to take photos.

A little girl gushed to her brother about how gosh dang important a family picture was for this time of the year. Her brother obliged ever-so-happily, as if it were a god send that she even wanted to take it in the first place.

"Wait," said the girl, "Okaa-san, you have to join us too!"

The mother let out a laugh and waved a hand. "No, no, it won't look good as a selfie. I want to send this through the mail for your obaa-san." As the family fretted over the picture and attempted to take a timed photo by placing the phone on the bench, (Y/n) sighed to herself. She cursed her good nature and approached. "I can take the picture for you if you'd like."

The siblings beamed, bumping shoulders and grinning from ear-to-ear. It was hard to look at them, especially with how grateful the mother looked. "Thank you," she said. (Y/n) studied their faces as the mother handed her the phone, heart weighing heavily in her chest.

"Alright, is everyone ready?"

(Y/n) adjusted the brightness, scrubbing her finger down to get the lighting just right. Before she hit the button, her finger paused by the screen. It was funny, really. How could the world be so happy when she was drowning in misery?

"One..."

This family could have been hers long ago.

"Two..."

But the moment she disappeared changed everything.

"Three."

A couple clicks sounded on the phone. (Y/n) handed it back to the mother and said, "I took a few, if you don't mind." The family seemed to radiate like golden retrievers around their owners. With all their smiles and good-nature laughs, it could have been contagious.

The mother took the phone back and (Y/n) couldn't help the stab of jealousy seeping into her heart. The children clung to the mother so lovingly, so affectionately.

"Thank you, Miss!"

How could a family look so picturesque? So whole?

"Of course." (Y/n) bowed and turned on her heel. Another moment watching that happy-go-lucky family would have really sent her over the edge. The very touch of their bright energy made her throat constrict with the urge to regurgitate whatever sat in her empty stomach.

A flap of wings cut through the breezes like a hot knife to butter. Red feathers filled (Y/n)'s vision, gently fluttering to the snow with the presence of the one and only person she was sure wouldn't betray her.

Hawks.

He pulled off his tinted sunglasses and wiped them of snow before unbuttoning the top of his jacket's fluffy collar. "Oh?" He smiled cheekily, like some bad-boy from a high school rom-com. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight, Little Birdie."

If that fuzzy warmth in (Y/n)'s heart was happiness, she hoped it wouldn't go away. It had been far too long since she laid eyes on Hawks beyond the television screen. For how many months he was gone, the temperature in her heart grew steadily colder. For how many days she lost count of, she wobbled closer and closer to death.

"Hawks," --(Y/n) swallowed the tightness in her throat-- "you're here."

He smiled casually, like he always seemed to do in even the face of danger. "Well, unless I'm some sort of doppelganger, then yeah. What's up?"

The warm Christmas lights were suddenly very interesting to look at. They cast shadows along the glittering snow beneath (Y/n)'s boots, much like the hair clip she kept tucked above her ear. "You said you wanted to talk."

Hawks dug his hands into his pockets with a ruffle of his feathers. "I did," --amber eyes flickered to the side of her face-- "and you seem like you wanna talk too." (Y/n) stared at him for a long, hard minute in search of the unsaid. He remained still, patient for her words. He wanted an answer.

A tired sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips. "About U.A., how did you afford all of it? I know you're a Pro, but still, it's expensive."

The price was the same as American college tuition, maybe even more considering the amount of facilities in need of said money. Unless (Y/n) had somehow obtained scholarships (which she never signed up for), Hawks was driving himself into a deep corner of potential financial instability. And for who? A nobody like her who should have died?

Hawks smiled casually, as if not even the end of the world could phase him. He was good at that, considering it was part of his job as a minion of the HPSC. "Don't worry about money," he sat down on one of the snow covered benches, "I was able to strike a deal with a patron. He's paying half--"

"A 'patron'?" (Y/n) ripped her gaze from the warm lights, golden eyes sharp and analytical. "What did you do?"

Hawks's amber eyes burned ominously like coals in a dying fire. He raised his hands, shaking his head. "Don't get the wrong idea, it was voluntary. He approached me, and even though I had my suspicions, turns out he's just a partner with the HPSC. A clean record, nothing on there besides the fact that his family has a fortune. Old money, I think. Inheritance."

Even if it was inheritance, what idiot would spend it all on someone who wasn't even their heir? (Y/n) grimly frowned. "That doesn't explain much. No names?"

Hawks made a 'lips sealed' motion with his hand and (Y/n) huffed in exasperation. "What about the twins? You said they mentioned me, something about 'Scylla'." Hawks's feathers ruffled, and no matter how hard he tried to hide the unease curling in his eyes, (Y/n) saw right through him.

She sensed it, felt the nerves going haywire around his bones.

Those hues the exact shade of liquid gold hot off the fire made Hawks stiffen. He didn't like the way (Y/n) looked at him or the way her stare seemed to pierce straight through him. It was as if she weren't even looking at him, but rather, inside him to the root of all silence he had the right to hold (or so he thought).

Jumping to conclusions wasn't in (Y/n)'s nature, she was careful and calculated, with a mind stronger than steel. Yet as she began to pace with steps quieter than the night, his conclusions surfaced quicker than the drop of a hat. The look in her eyes, the clipped tone in her voice--how could he be so oblivious?

Hawks's heart ached. "Did you find out what happened to your family?" he inquired. "Or did you come here for a breather?"

(Y/n)'s heart weighed heavily in her chest and she prayed it didn't show on her face. "No." The lie was blatant as day, more obvious than the flicker of pain in her eyes. "I didn't find anything out."

Hawks licked his dry lips with a frown in thought. "Why are you lying?"

"I'm not...it's nothing." She could already see the knowing look in his eyes, feel the understanding flowing into his veins. The Number Three Pro-Hero Hawks was trained to read emotions (and trained well). There was no use lying, yet to find it within herself to speak? To admit what she feared to be the truth all along? Never, she would rather take it to her grave.

It seemed to get colder with the empty breezes. (Y/n) stuffed her hands into her pockets, watching as white clouds of vapour fell past her lips. She didn't like the way Hawks's stare burned into the side of her face, or the way he kept looking at her as if he knew exactly what plagued her mind.

"You're not betraying anyone."

Her breath hitched and she shook her head. "I need a hero license before I can do anything," she muttered. "It's...it's not about 'betrayal'."

But the Number Three Hero was not easily fooled and neither was (Y/n), who knew her heart could be lied to for only so long. She didn't care. To cling on to this only hope, this piece of familiarity she had left that made her feel something instead of nothing? In her mind it was worth the pain, worth the grievance.

"If it's not about betrayal, then what is it?" Hawks spoke slowly, softly. He wanted to hear the answers himself, not assume based on clues. "Your meeting with Yaororozu-san already gave you what you needed to know."

It hadn't truly. Not in (Y/n)'s mind when the facts had yet to settle like silt in a raging river. She sniffled, dabbed at her runny nose with a napkin. "It's too early to say. I...don't have the proper evidence to support foul play. There's nothing I can do unless I have physical proof."

"Which would be impossible to obtain since you're not allowed anywhere near Yakuza business." Hawks concluded. (Y/n) stiffly nodded and he leaned back on the bench with a purse of his lips. The dull sheen in (Y/n)'s eyes, the darkness clouding her face like a funeral veil, the frown much colder than the Arctic...

A Hero's job was the save people. Hawks had already failed once when he allowed Yamaguchi to get away. Since the moment he swooped into that four-way intersection to bring her half-dead body to the hospital, he silently hoped he could make amends. Not because he was interested in raising the next generation or becoming some idolized role-model, but because he saw it, deep within.

Undying selflessness overshadowed by guilt.

It wasn't the same as what Hawks saw in his mirror, but it reminded him too much of what could have been if he hadn't been so lenient on himself. He stood, dusting himself off. "It's been a while since we've eaten together." A smile a little too carefree, a little too reassuring, rose to his lips. "You hungry?"

And that was how (Y/n) found herself in a cafe at nineteen o'clock in the evening, where the scent of coffee was so strong it made her almost dizzy. This cafe was the only place open since New Years was so close around the corner, but that was fine, it had a four-point-three rating on Yelp.

The first thing the pair did was order drinks. Their respective dishes were on their way through a fifteen minute wait. It was the perfect moment to seize the day, the perfect moment to capture the picture.

"You never told me about what's been going on," (Y/n) distantly noted. "The last I heard was about two 'annoying twins'." Through the heavy atmosphere, Hawks found it within himself to be himself. The sour frown on his face paired with his comical way of dramatically sipping his over-sweetened coffee. He sighed loudly and it made her want to smile. Almost.

"You don't have to think about them," Hawks grumbled. "They're idiots. One's stuck-up and won't even look me in the face while the other one acts like a saint. The one that acts like a saint is nice, but he's stupid, can't seem to realize his brother is deathly jealous of him."

(Y/n) sipped her (f/d), brows knitting together in a way that must have looked like her brother. "That's...interesting, I suppose. But why would they have any interest in me?" Hawks stared out the window, where snowflakes gracefully fluttered through the night and street lamps stood tall through the dark. "I know why, but it's something I can't tell you right now."

"Why?" Betrayal threatened to leak into (Y/n)'s voice. "If it's about me, shouldn't I be the first to know?" There was a flash of conflict in Hawk's eyes, a flash of guilt. "You should," he agreed, "but not if it puts you in danger."

"Does it have to do with the HPSC again?"

Hawks took a long, obnoxious sip of his coffee. "Yes and no. The circumstances changed, for better or worse, it depends on how you look at it. For now, keep your eyes peeled, I'll get back to you on it later."

Later? What if later was too late (like (Y/n) always seemed to be)? She tapped her fingers impatiently along the side of her cup, grimacing. "Hawks, you can't say that and then not tell me the whole story."

He smiled apologetically. "I just don't want you finding trouble with this kind of thing." He paused and watched a waitress place two plates of food down on the table. When she left, he continued. "The most I can say is this: the twins are from an old family and have connections to an independent organization, they're highly skilled and rumored to be assassins. As for 'Scylla', it's a separate mission. I can't say much else on it."

Separate mission? How much eavesdropping did Hawks do to obtain this information? (Y/n)'s brows knitted as Hawks bit into his popcorn chicken. There was a glint in his eyes, something sharp and filled with deep thought. "So," he sighed, "I've already told you that, any more and you'll be in danger."

"That isn't the problem."

All Hawks could do was frown. It wasn't a good look for him, not when (Y/n) wanted to see nothing more than his casually sweet smiles. She told herself that could wait when danger hung close to her head. "There has to be something more you can tell me. Please."

Hawks's expression was unreadable as he took another sip of coffee and chewed on his food. It was still hot, steaming as he ate. "I know it's unfair to keep this from you, but you have to bear with me for a it longer, okay? There's no reason to cage yourself when you have plenty of other opportunities. There are better things to think about than this. Let me handle it so you can focus on getting your license."

That uncomfortable sinking feeling filled (Y/n)'s gut like a flood. She gripped at her coat in an iron grasp, jaw clenching tight. Then she picked up her chopsticks and shoveled a good amount of food into her mouth. She chewed vigorously, as if this were her last meal.

Hawks watched her curiously, a new light flickering in his eyes. "You eat like you're starving," he joked. "Slow down before you choke."

(Y/n) swallowed and took a passionate sip of her drink. She grimaced--the flavours didn't go so well together. "I know we're friends, but still. Having a Pro-Hero spend his time on one measly girl?"

It was a time consuming task, one Hawks didn't need to put his effort into.

"You must have another reason besides the HPSC and the incident with Yamaguchi. Does it have to do with the twins?"

Hawks went unnaturally silent. He continued eating, a storm rising back into his eyes. "They're dangerous. If you get caught up with either of them, you'll be neck deep in more problems than you can handle." He paused. "Once you get your license, we can talk more. Everything will have to wait, okay?"

(Y/n) pursed her lips in thought. She knew Hawks wasn't trying to swindle her, but the thought of leaving empty handed made her queasy. Whatever information he kept must have been meticulously important to have him squeezed in a tough corner.

"Alright." (Y/n) swallowed her discomfort. She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest in thought. Hawks's gaze flickered to her own, a spark of concern in his eyes. "You're not as good at hiding your emotions as you think," he said. "I see right through ya, Little Birdie."

It was hard to paint over the cracks in (Y/n)'s facade. She frowned, the calm brewing into a blizzard. "What do you mean?" She adjusted the clip in her hair, running a thumb over the intricate stones. "There's nothing to see."

"You can keep telling yourself that," --he finished the last of his drink-- "but you can't fool me."

(Y/n) finished the last of her food and glared at the empty plate. Kai's sharp gaze, Hari's constant worries. There was a reason why they acted the way they did, and it wasn't because of their ambitions.

A waiter came by and collected the plates, noting that he would come back with a bill. An unnatural silence seemed to fall over the quiet cafe, but with the warmth radiating from Hawk's aura, (Y/n) didn't think she minded too much. At the least, he was here beside her.

---

Snow fluttered to the ground as (Y/n) and Hawks made their way through the town. It was relatively dead, save for the occasional couples on their evening strolls. The lights lining the streets cast a warm glow against (Y/n)'s cheeks, one that reminded her of the night Kyojurou could have died on Mugen Train. But that was a while ago, wasn't it? And he hadn't died yet.

Not until—

"Oh, I hate myself." (Y/n) said with a small laugh. There was no humour behind her words, no light in her eyes. Hawks paused in his step underneath the light of the streetlamps. "Why?" He knew if he didn't prompt her to speak, she may never elaborate. "You're a good person."

(Y/n) laughed again. A good person? Her? No, no. Never. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." Hawks stated. He spoke so firmly, so honestly that it could have been believable. "We both know how you risked everything for the sake of this world." (Y/n) scoffed. So did all those other Slayers, Hashira, and many unnamed Kakushi who lay in whatever graves were given to them. Some never made it ten feet under, for they were eaten alive, torn limb from limb in agony.

"I'm not a good person. You're just saying that."

Once again, there was something wrong with the way Hawks looked at her, something unsettling that left (Y/n) wanting to hide. He sighed and she averted her gaze. "Let's say you did die," he said, "what difference would that make? You survived the aftermath, you lived--"

Why was he still talking? Why didn't he get what she was trying to say? Hawks kept looking at her with those piercing, amber eyes, as if he knew (he did) and understood her (he did).

"--so there's no reason for you to do anything but move on. Nothing was your fault--"

It was like the howl of a fierce wind, the popping of a searing fire. (Y/n) snapped. "I was late!" The terrible sharpness in her voice scared her. "Kyojurou died because I couldn't make it in time. Tamayo-oba died because I got caught up in fighting Upper Moon Two. Sanemi-san had to watch his younger brother die alongside my cousin because I didn't finish off Upper Moon One!"

The warm Christmas lights illuminated against the tears in (Y/n)'s golden eyes. She swallowed hard, lip trembling.

"And Akaza...I...I killed him with my own two hands! Everything was all because I wasn't good enough." She heaved, puffs of white vapour spiraling into the inky sky. "And I want to trust my family, and I want to believe in them, but that's only because I am a coward." She shook her head, voice cracking. "I can't lose them. They're all I have left."

Regret made Hawks's heart pang in his chest. He should have known better, should have realized sooner the moment he met Chisaki (Y/n). If he hadn't been taken in by the HPSC and trained to get those thoughts out of his head, he may have ended up like her, afraid. Terrified. Alone.

(Y/n)'s dark hair fluttered in the wind as she sniffled. It was unfair. Unfair how tears ran down her face, how they threatened to freeze against her reddened cheeks, how the emptiness only kept spreading. "My friends are all dead and I'm just," --her fists clenched at her sides, digging half moons into her palms-- "I'm tired. So, so tired."

Hawks pulled (Y/n) close into a hurried embrace. He held her securely, held her tightly as his wings shielded them from the cruelty of the world. He was warm. So, so warm.

"I'm sorry," Hawks rested his chin against her head, "it's my fault for not taking down Yamaguchi before he got to you. You can't take the blame, not when none of it had to do with you to begin with." He rubbed her back comfortingly. "I'm sorry, (Y/n)."

She began to sob. It was like that time Akaza came back after their argument and like that time when Senjuro cried in the kitchen after his father socked her in the face. There was nothing she did that warranted those sincere apologies. She didn't deserve it then and she didn't deserve it now.

For a single moment, a split second, (Y/n) saw the face of her long dead Auntie. That snow-white hair, those hateful red eyes, and those words that cut like knives. "You showed your true colours," she had once said, "it's a wonder the police haven't gotten you yet after murdering your own teacher. You're a monster. A curse on my family!"

"You can't apologize," (Y/n) cried. "I don't deserve it." She tried to pull away but Hawks only held on tighter, faster before she truly disappeared forever. "You aren't a bad person," he reassured. "You never were."

The tears, why did they refuse to cease?

"I've fought and met a lot of people." Hawks kept (Y/n) cradled close, protected in the embrace of his arms. He thought of the terrible deeds he'd done behind closed doors, where blood stained his hands and dyed his heart red. "Trust me when I say you're not a bad person. This whole time, you had your family's best interests in mind and you gave your life to save the world. Even now when you're hurting, you still give. "

Hawks slowly pulled away to look her in the eyes.

"You're a good person." A gentle breeze carried snowflakes through the night sky and he smiled softly. It wasn't anything angelic, nothing like the smiles Tanjiro had, but it carried grit. Pure, raw emotion. "That's not just me being optimistic, I mean it." He pulled out a few napkins from his pocket and handed it to (Y/n). She gratefully took it and wiped away the tears, praying that her heart could accept his honest words.

The soft smile on Hawks's lips brightened into a grin. He pulled out a cloth wrapped around a small box and held it out. "On a lighter note, this is for you, (Y/n)." She stared at the (f/c) patterns dyed along the furoshiki and her eyes watered with the familiar sting of tears. How could Hawks be so generous, so damn kind when she was nothing but a package of problems? It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve this (or him).

Hawks placed the box in (Y/n)'s hands. "Since Christmas is around the corner, I wanted to get you something. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I went for something practical. It's nothing mu--oh, no, no." He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a rub. "Hey Little Birdie, don't cry."

Something about his soft voice made (Y.n) want to cry more, but for his sake, she sucked it up and unwrapped the beautiful fabric. Inside was a box. She put the fabric into her pocket and opened it. "H-Hawks..." Her gaze fell upon a feather hair clip a bright, strong crimson, like his wings. And oh, what in the world did she do to deserve such a wonderful gift?

"You're too good to me."

The soft smile on Hawk's lips never vanished. He picked up the clip and set it into (Y/n)'s hair, amber eyes sparkling like the Christmas lights above. "I'm glad you like it." he said. "Plus, we're friends and you deserve something to make you happy."

After all the demons (Y/n) had slain (demons who were once flesh and bone as humans) and murders she had done in the past, what gave her the right to such love? Such light in her black and white world of darkness?

'You deserve something to make you happy'. How did she deserve to be cared for? Loved? Happy?

(Y/n) couldn't help the sob that wracked her body with trembles. It was all too much to feel warmth in her numb limbs, especially when her heart lost the flame nurtured by her mentor. Hawks held her close in a secure embrace.

(Y/n) couldn't remember the last time she felt so safe.

The walk home was spent in a comfortable quiet. About two or three blocks away from the house, the two stopped to say goodbye.

"I'm heading back to Kyushu after this," --(Y/n) felt her heart sink a little-- "and in case I don't see you in person for a while, have fun on your first day of school next year." Hawks smiled sweetly like he always did. There were unsaid words in his amber eyes, unsaid nothings of comfort he couldn't bring himself to say (in case it made (Y/n) cry again). She already looked so sad in the cold snow with tear tracks down her reddened cheeks and puffy eyes. He didn't want to make it worse.

"So you're leaving again?" she inquired. "You didn't have to come all the way here, but thank you." Hawks waved her off casually. "Don't mention it. I wanted to give you that before Christmas. Take care of yourself, Little Birdie. You can always text me if you need anything, even if it's just to talk a little. Can't promise I'll respond right away, but I'll try."

(Y/n) nodded, gaze downcast. "Okay."

"Hey," a hand landed on her head, "don't miss me too much." The affectionate smile on Hawk's lips made her heart clench painfully. Before he could blink, she threw her arms around his shoulders. "Thank you. Thank you so much for everything." Hawks returned the hug, squashing his face against (Y/n)'s.

"'Course. Try to take care of yourself. If not for you, then for me?"

(Y/n) mumbled a small 'okay' before pulling away. With one last wave and a flutter of his wings, Hawks was off, away into the snowy midnight skies. A few feathers fluttered into the snow, flashes of crimson that seemed to light up the dark. She caught one between her fingertips and studied the beautiful hue.

Maybe Hawks wouldn't mind if she held on to this.

The moment (Y/n) stepped into the house, her blood dared to run cold. A tall man in a black hat and a full-face plague mask stood in the threshold, a pair of shoes in hand. By the coat he was about to zip up and the bewildered look in his eyes, he was ready to leave.

Nemoto, that was the name of this man. The last she saw of him was a couple days ago (or was it weeks? She couldn't remember) when her 'plan' to find Eri failed miserably.

A scowl fell upon (Y/n)'s face. "You," she seethed. "A lap dog of my brother, I assume." Nemoto let out a dramatic gasp. He threw down his shoes and placed a hand to his hip indignantly. "Who do you think you're calling a 'lap dog'? I serve the Young Boss with pride and passion. It may not seem believable to you, but my position is very respectable!"

Like that was worth even a penny. (Y/n) removed her shoes and turned to brush past Nemoto. He quickly side-stepped to block the hallway, arms outstretched. "Overhaul's been looking for you. Where were you?"

(Y/n) paused, half-expecting his Quirk to take effect. When he remained still in wait, she sighed. "I..." Her voice came out cold and tired. "I was taking a walk. Now if you'll excuse me."

Nemoto blinked and chuckled pompously. He pulled on his shoes, poncho swishing behind melodramatically. "Don't mind me." He buttoned up his coat's collar. "You know, as Overhaul's younger sister, you need to avoid being a burden. Walking outside in this weather could get you sick, and we wouldn't want the Young Boss wasting his time on petty distractions." He made his way towards the door. "It would be so pitiful to find you bedridden!"

(Y/n)'s gaze rose, golden eyes icier than the Arctic. Was there supposed to be an implication there? If so, she silently vowed to rip this man to shreds. Nemoto stiffened for a split second, as if sensing blood lust, before forcing his egotistic facade.

"Overhaul worked enough to balance you and his dedication to the Hassaikai. From what I heard, he put a lot of time into your studies too." A wave of frigid air filled the house and Nemoto stepped outside into the night with a pointed look. "You're behind by four years and still think you have time to sniff around in other people's business?" He sighed with a shake of his head. "What a shame, (Y/n)-san!"

The door shut with a low 'click'.

A shame? Oh, (Y/n) could show him shame. His Quirk was useless in battle, a simple punch was enough to send him flying ten meters into the air. What made him think he could be so stuck-up? Just because he had a Quirk that made people confess to his questions didn't make him Caesar.

(Y/n) gripped her arms tightly. It was bad enough knowing Kai surrounded himself with dangerous, self-imposing idiots. To think even this late in in the evening, they were still around made her stomach churn uncomfortably. (Y/n) sighed to herself and ran her hands through her hair. She threw off her boots and shed her coat, groaning in frustration. "Stupid..."

Footsteps echoed from down the hallway, a familiar presence she really didn't want to see right now filling her senses.

"(Y/n)." Hari stared at the way her nails dug into her skin. She was gripping her arms tight enough to draw blood and it scared him. "Are you okay?"

It had been over a week since (Y/n) actually looked Hari in the face. She didn't want to see him right now (or perhaps ever) after that little stunt he pulled in the basement. A part of her wondered if Hari ever cared about her. Maybe it was all an act to gain her trust so she didn't snoop too far under the counter, or maybe it was for his own sick benefit to please Kai.

Her grip tightened. The faint scent of iron filled her nose as her nails dug into her skin.

"(Y/n), you're bleeding."

The look on Hari's face (how could he look so remorseful, so sad?) made her want to claw out her own eyes. Her throat constricted, that familiar urge to regurgitate her insides making her stomach painfully ache. Hari felt bad looking at her pitiful state? Good. He deserved to feel like rubbish when he and Kai made her this way.

"Come, Little Ice Hashira. I promise you, you won't be alone anymore."

Not like it mattered (never). (Y/n) didn't care when her life was only full of disappointments.

"Like you?"

Hawks was an exception to the people she would forfeit in this life, but he wasn't here right now and probably wouldn't be for months.

"You are not alone with me, Chisaki (Y/n). Come, together, we can make them all pay dearly."

(Y/n) brushed past Hari and ran to her room as fast as she could. She wanted to scream, to hide, to cry. But was it enough? Would it ever be to release her from this pain? She slammed the door behind her, breaths heavy and short. It was getting harder to breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

"(Y/n)," --Hari knocked on the door, "open up. Please."

The concerned voice made her jump out of her skin when it shouldn't have. (Y/n) had never been scared of Hari, not even when he was angry at her for spilling soup on his favourite shirt when she was eight. She tried to shout for him to go away, to leave and never come back, but her voice refused to work.

The world spun, the walls seemed to close in and even as Hari kept calling her name over and over and over, it never seemed to reach her ears. Because all that was left were the voices of the dead and the chilling claws of the Demon King.

He materialized from inky black mist like before, a truly real living being with flesh and blood and eyes the colour that she despised with her very soul. His hand against her cheek was revolting like maggots crawling, or worms writhing and she wished to Overhaul every last nerve in her body.

"Come, (Y/n)." She hated the smile upon Kibutsuji's lips and his feeble attempt to to remain so falsely serene. "I can end your suffering." He took her hand in his and it was still impossible to breathe or think or act. Where was her sense of reason as he caressed her skin with those smooth hands and too-perfect smile?

"Perhaps humans can be less than foul," --there was a flash of mirth in Kibutsuji's eyes-- "only if it's you, Chisaki (Y/n). I will make you my most powerful asset. I will make you mine."

In the last of (Y/n)'s conscious moments, she watched her bedroom door slide open. Two blurry figures called out to her as her knees gave out and the world went cold and dark.

Modern Era Secrets!

-Kai is surprisingly domestic. He can cook, clean, the whole package.
-Hari scolded Nemoto for using his Quirk on (Y/n). Mimic claimed he shouted so loud it shook the very walls.
-Hawks found the feather hair clip by chance. A local artist was selling it and gave him a discount because he's Pro-Hero.
-Hawks sort of sees (Y/n) as a little sibling. He's never felt this sort of companionship before, but it gives his life a little more meaning.
-Kai has been cooking (Y/n)'s all-time favourite dishes to apologise (even if he has a feeling it might not work).
-Hari and Kai nearly suffered heart attacks at the end of this chapter.

Chapter Text

'Is there somebody that can
help me?
I'm crawling in my skin
Sometimes I feel like givin' up but I just can't
It isn't in my blood'
-In My Blood, Shawn Mendes

The sun was blinding. It hurt to bask in its warmth, as if its very touch could turn (Y/n) to ash. She groggily pulled up the sheets, a low groan escaping her scratchy throat. When was the last time she drank something? Her throat was dry again, just as it was the night before and the one before that. She vaguely remembered waking up every so often to use the bathroom or eat, but besides that...

...how long had (Y/n) been sleeping?

She was so thirsty. Even a single drop of water was enough to satiate her thirst (if she could just get some). She heaved out a long, tired whine and stood. The sun's touch was hot. It burned like fire, but the longer (Y/n) basked in it, it faded like a mirage.

(Y/n) staggered out of her room, ankles buckling and knees wobbling as she leaned against the wall for support. Step after step was like walking across eggshells. Her body ached and her limbs weighed heavily. It wasn't like she had been fighting demons all week, yet it felt like it. Similar to the nights spent running and hunting for the cursed beings of the moon.

Maybe in her mind, she had been. Kibutsuji's unrelenting presence wasn't a pretty sight to behold. She dreamt of fighting him, of ripping him to shreds with her katana.

The sounds of running water caught (Y/n)'s ears. She sniffled and sneezed loudly. Someone turned around, but before she could see who it was, a pair of arms picked her up and set her down on the couch. She felt a glass being placed to her lips, and before she cold protest, cool water began soothing her scratchy throat. It tasted a little odd, but maybe it was because she was so thirsty.

"Better?"

(Y/n) nodded groggily and Kai set the small glass on the table. His presence was warmer than she remembered, trapping her in a honey sweet embrace. Each movement was like that of a pure saint. He unfolded a blanket with grace, set it over her with a touch softer than cotton, and placed a pillow behind her back for the support she didn't know she needed.

It was funny watching Kai fuss about, but (Y/n) liked it. Especially since he owed her after being so insufferable the past month or so.

Kai wasn't wearing any of his ridiculous get-ups today--just a simple black dust mask, no gloves (maybe he just finished cleaning?) and no excessively tidy button-ups. Instead, he was in his pajamas, a plain black sweatshirt and grey sweatpants. It was nostalgic, a reminder of simpler times when they were only but children.

"How are you feeling?" Kai knit his brows together. "Your fever flared up earlier. You should still be in bed." (Y/n) laid down and rubbed at her eyes sleepily. Everything in passing seemed like a blur, a fragment of unnecessary blobs she couldn't shut off no matter how hard she blinked. "Mhmm..."

Kai's brow creased further still. He placed a hand to (Y/n)'s head, those stern eyes softening tentatively. He seemed to be running a thousand scenarios within his head in milliseconds as he knelt beside the couch. "You're not in your right mind," --he pulled the covers up and tucked her in-- "but I'm glad you're finally awake. Today's Christmas Day."

Christmas Day? (Y/n) blinked owlishly, eyelids heavy with the urge to sleep. "Is that a good thing?" Kai looked like he wanted to smile. "Maybe. I'll be back, I need to get something."

(Y/n) didn't want to see Kai go so soon. There were too many questions that needed answering, too many reassurances she wanted to convince herself of. But most importantly, she didn't want to be alone. The fear in her heart kept growing like bacteria, continuously multiplying until it threatened overwhelm and kill.

"Nii-chan, wait." The thought of having the room completely void of life scared her. She didn't want to hear the voice of Kibutsuji again, where those plastic smiles and cold eyes stared straight through her. "I'll come too."

"No, I'll be right back," Kai pushed her down firmly. "It's not like I'm leaving you. I promise." (Y/n) tried to sit up again but her limbs were heavy with the urge to sleep. She slowly nodded, lips pressed thin. Creases pulled at the edges of Kai's eyes, a sign that he was trying to smile. He wanted to be strong for her.

The seconds passed by like hours, one after the other with the incessant sound of the kitchen's ticking clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tok. Tick. Tick. Tick--

"Here."

(Y/n) hadn't seen Kai come back through the foggy mist over her vision. She stared up at him uncertainly and he shook a flat box in his hand. It was wrapped with plain brown paper and tied with a (f/c) bow, nothing too special. (Y/n) took the box and carefully unwrapped the paper. She handed it to Kai and he began folding it up, likely to save for another present in the future.

Inside was a woven woolen scarf with (f/c) and (s/f/c) tassels at the ends. Kai helped (Y/n) sit up a little as she unfolded the scarf. He took the box, watching attentively at the way her expression softened like butter. Although she refrained from smiling, Kai knew she was grateful.

"You always get sick," he explained. "And the only scarf you have is the one Oyaji bought you when you were about seven. It has princesses on it and I'm sure you don't want to wear that at this age." (Y/n) mustered a weak huff (she loved that old scarf, princesses or not) and ran a hand over sewn-on patch just above the tassels. It was the familiar shape of an eight pointed crest--her life blood, her family--the Shie Hassaikai.

(Y/n) was never an official member ('Young girls like you shouldn't ever meddle in this sort of thing,' Oyaji once said). That didn't stop her from showing up in his office at random meetings, or bonding with the other members whom were rather kind at heart. The Hassaikai was more than a group of misfits and outcasts, but a place where those who needed somewhere to belong became one. Their loyalty to the Family, their devotion, was strong. True.

And it was the literal essence of the Shie Hassaikai, an essence that vanished since Oyaji's descent.

"I'll wash this for you." Kai held out a hand and (Y/n) handed him the scarf. She silently watched him leave again, wishing that he wouldn't. The sounds of the sink running filled the quiet space, then an incoherent mumble. The ache in (Y/n)'s heart soothed with the gentle reminder that there was someone else here besides that voice in her head.

Kai was alive. By her side. Breathing. Living.

Kai returned a couple minutes later, steps soft against the wooden floorboards. He took a seat on the floor beside the couch, brow furrowing tightly. "What is it?" (Y/n) mimicked his expression and stifled a yawn. Before she could mumble something with her scratchy voice, Kai picked up a pillow and blanket and plopped down on the spare couch to the right. "I'm not leaving, if that's what you're worried about. I set everything aside for the week."

(Y/n) sniffled. She felt so congested. "Why?"

Kai removed his mask to reveal the fond expression on his face. "To spend time with you," he closed his eyes, "besides just studying, that is. You've been working hard, it's good to see you rest peacefully." (Y/n) pursed her lips together.

'Good to see you rest peacefully'. Did Kai know about the nightmares plaguing her mind? Did he finally understand what she meant when she said she was going crazy? Or maybe...maybe Kai suspected her for something, anything, because she wasn't the same person she was at the age of ten?

"You have nightmares often."

Oh. So that's what he meant.

"I didn't want to ask, but it's...worrisome." Kai sighed and flipped on his side to meet (Y/n)'s gaze. "You know that I'm glad you're alive, but you forget that I want to help you, too. I'm grateful that you came home in one piece." He spoke truthfully, with that sad look in his eyes that poured with unspoken words. There was more to what he was saying, more to what he couldn't bear to admit.

And gods, if (Y/n) weren't kicking herself right now. She hated seeing Kai look so vulnerable, so guilty yet not, as if he wanted to admit what went on behind closed doors but couldn't (again). "I'm grateful for you too, Nii-chan."

"Thank you," --he looked like he could cry-- "even though I don't deserve that." (Y/n) searched his face again. He looked like the world was forever locked in darkness, like the sun could never rise again to signal the start of a new day. (Y/n) mustered the strength to haul her tired body off the couch.

Kai's eyes widened. "(Y/n)--"

She settled on the floor in a blanket burrito, resting her head against the sofa's armrest. "Stop making that face." Her nose crinkled. "It's bothering me." Kai didn't understand what face he was making, but he sighed anyway and tried rearranging the crease of his brow. "I'm not making any faces."

"Yes, you are." (Y/n) tried to mimic him, but it only made Kai frown. "Don't do that," he grimaced, "it's making me cringe." (Y/n) sucked her teeth in a 'tch' and closed her eyes. "Good." She snuggled into the soft sheets, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this peace (this warmth) could last an eternity.

---

Hari didn't know how long he sat cooped up in the lab. It was Christmas Day, a time he once dreamt of having in peace alongside those he truly cared about. But with Kai's--no, Overhaul's--plan and the near-completion of the first temporary Quirk-erasing bullets, he couldn't rest. Not yet. One wrong step and countless months of unrelenting work could simply disappear down the drain.

The day of the car accident, where (Y/n) had laid on her side, bloodied and broken still haunted his dreams. He sometimes dreamed of her gripping his coat and yelling in his face as blood dripped down her tear-stained cheeks. The sky would sometimes turn crimson, and the car would veer around and hit him too.

Because if there was one thing Hari wished to change, it was (Y/n)'s disappearance. If she hadn't been sent to the past, Overhaul's plan would never begin and the bullets would have remained an idea instead of a plan.

Hari tapped his foot against the pristine, white tiles. The bullets had to be worth the trouble. All of it. After seeing the heart-wrenching look on (Y/n)'s ashen face, he had to reassure himself that none of this was a mistake.

When Nemoto used his Quirk on (Y/n), all Hari could do was watch. He was a bystander, a side character among the protagonists with their own main story line. It was the same as the day of the car crash, powerless with only the ability to watch with an aching heart.

Chrono Hari was in fact, worthless. In the grand scheme of things, he was only a pawn, another piece in Overhaul's overly excessive game of shogi. Each piece had long been set into place, long predicted with the final steps towards victory. Yet none of this felt rewarding. The clattering sound of surgical tools, the stifled whimpers of pain, the strong, piercing scent of disinfectant--

(Y/n)'s face flashed in Hari's mind. She always seemed to intrude his thoughts with that moment where she yanked him by the coat, fingers trembling with desperation.

"Answer me, Hari! Where is she?!"

"I can't tell you," he said. "I can't!"

It echoed like a broken record on repeat. Answer me. Answer me! Answer me! But Hari couldn't, he swore himself to secrecy along with the rest of the Eight Bullets. There was no going back the moment he turned his back to the old, bedridden boss, and even then as (Y/n) looked close to murdering him with a mere glance, he kept his lips shut. Sealed tight like promised.

Nearly. The words nearly spilled from his throat, a can of worms dangerous enough to spell the end of Project Zero.

Hari's grip around the pen tightened as he jotted down a few notes. He turned off a couple machines and set a few bagged samples into the fridge. He was tired. Turning on the sink and washing his hands became a chore that made his vision blur and his head ache with a migraine.

"Answer me, Hari! Where is she?!"

"I can't tell you," he said. "I can't!"

Was that the right decision? To lie and cheat (Y/n) in a circle with no end? She deserved so much better after risking her life for the world and nearly dying. No matter how unconditional Hari and Kai's love for her was, it would never be without consequence, never without heartache, because the worst things in a family were the cracks left behind by secrecy.

"I can't tell you," he said. "I can't!"

Hari slammed his fist against the sink with a shout. His veins pulsed with anger, his heart ached with fire. Shortly after Kai showed up that day in the basement, (Y/n) had collapsed. Seeing her knees give out and her eyes roll into the back of her head as she fell against Kai, limp, sent shivers down Hari's spine.

Especially when that forsaken Demon Mark imprinted itself on her jaw.

Hari's fists clenched. The Mark granted anyone who had it extreme endurance, stamina, and speed. What reason was there for her to activate it when there was no danger? What was more puzzling was the way the mark began to morph and shift to create the shape of a sun.

Answer me. Answer me. Answer me.

No, no, no. He could not answer (Y/n), could not offer her solace or support. As her childhood friend, her confidant, it was what he should provide, what he should aim to always, always give. Yet he couldn't. Not with the production of Project Zero underway, or the blood staining his hands red.

But the mark--the damned Demon Slayer Mark--was that not the final push to amend his resolve? To change his mind? There was no way such power came without consequence. Without the terrible hopes of death.

Hari ran his wet hands through his hair and silently shouted into his hands. He hated the way guilt ate at his heart every moment he spent in (Y/n)'s presence. It make his stomach churn with nausea and his head pound painfully. There was never an end to this cycle, never a loop to escape through.

Not unless Chisaki (Y/n) were gone. Now, wouldn't that be better? More convenient? More secure? She would be safe from the truth, safe from the two monsters she called her family. Little (Y/n) didn't deserve to live here under this roof of sand and glass. It would only suffocate her, melt her until there was nothing left but the cracked shell that held her together in the first place.

That only begged the question--who could take (Y/n) in?

A beep alerted Hari. He picked up his phone and unlocked it.

Kai (Overhaul):
Come upstairs. I need you to take a sample from (Y/n) for a DNA test

Hari:
DNA test?

Kai (Overhaul):
I'll explain later. Hurry before she wakes up

A frown pursed at Hari's lips. He shut off the phone, head pounding with an unrelenting migraine.

---

"Merry Christmas, Oyaji."

Kai stood stiller than a statue. The sound of the steady heart monitor was a comfort to the constant slamming of his own pulse. It was sickening, really. The mere thought made bile threaten to rise in his throat and suffocate him until he wanted to claw out his own intestines. How could he allow this to happen? No, how did he not realise sooner?

"(Y/n)'s fever went down." Kai's voice was barely above its usual grumble. He couldn't help the frustration leaking into his voice. "She's constantly stressed and that causes her to react strongly to certain situations. I can't remember the last time she had a good sleep, either. She's proving a lot of trouble."

The heart monitor beeped in response. A steady, comforting rhythm.

"I gave her a scarf for Christmas since she gets sick so often." Kai frowned to himself. "It's nice to have her back. I...missed her a lot, but..."

Ever since Kai found out about the Mark, his concerns only grew. It appeared whenever (Y/n) didn't sleep well. She often tossed and turned, as if she were chained to a beast ready to devour her whole. He clenched a fist, jaw tensing.

"There was something mentioned about Kibutsuji in the Legend of Zenitsu. It's said he could split his body into over a thousand pieces. I want to know if it's plausible to fuse with other beings and what the conditions are." Kai thought to (Y/n)'s mumbling in her sleep where a single word, a single name, never failed to leave her lips.

Kibutsuji Muzan.

"He also possessed the ability to turn other beings based on ingesting blood." Kai rubbed his thumb over his knuckles, head spinning. "I'm going to run a DNA test later with Chrono. Since (Y/n)'s a light sleeper, I had to drug her to sleep. I didn't want to ask her to give me any samples since she'd worry, so it was the only way. She's already extremely reckless, it makes me think about how she'd react."

The heart monitor beeped again in response and Kai sighed to himself.

"I don't want (Y/n) killing herself. Even if she did, there's no guarantee Kibutsuji can't find another host. For that reason, I'm looking into a painter. His name is Yamamoto Yushiro. He made a piece called 'Ice and Flames' shown at an art gallery a few years ago. It was never allowed to be auctioned despite the high prices. When I looked it up online, I was confused at first."

Red and orange painted across a sky at dawn. Clouds stark white against the sun's rising rays. A single girl standing strong on her feet while pointing her blade. Her haori fluttered in the wind, where snowflakes dotted its gradients of white, icy blue, and deep indigos. The eyes like liquid gold were a dead giveaway. They were the same ones Kai saw whenever he looked in the mirror.

"I thought about how grown-up the girl looked and how fearless she was despite the blood on her face. Then I realised it was (Y/n)." Kai sighed to himself incredulously. He thought of the wounds beyond scary, the way (Y/n) dug her nails into her arms just a few nights ago, and the way she always looked beyond despair.

"(Y/n) always takes things too far. She doesn't know her limits until it's too late because she's reckless. If I'm not here to stop her, then she might really end up getting herself killed because of something stupid." Kai turned on his heel, steps heavy with the burdens of a single life. A single fate he knew could be changed. "I'll take care of (Y/n), so you don't have to worry about a thing, Oyaji. It's just like I promised. Until then, you can rest easy."

One week later, 7th January, Wednesday

The voice would not stop. Every waking hour, (Y/n)'s mind rattled with the haunting chills of the past. Those eyes redder than blood, that hair blacker than night, and that sickly serene expression. She hated it with every cell in her body.

"Come, (Y/n)."

She would not come.

"I will end your suffering."

She didn't care about her suffering.

"Show those who have betrayed you--"

(Y/n) brought her blade down against the straw mats. She watched them fall in clean lines, white clouds of vapour streaming past her lips. "Shut up," she seethed. "Shut up." The voice simmered down to a raspy whisper, mere echoes of static. How long had this been going on? Weeks? Months?

For as long as (Y/n) knew, Kibutsuji had been beside her. Ever since she doubted herself. Ever since her insecurities began to ebb at her being inside and out. Ever since...ever since she appeared in the present. Had Kibutsuji somehow injected her with his own blood? She was too bloody and battered at the time to notice, and even if she did, it would have been far too late.

Tanjiro killed Kibutsuji, though. He made sure that that demon was eradicated from the face of this Earth.

"I wouldn't be so sure about such things, Little Ice Hashira."

The blade in (Y/n)'s hands illuminated against the intensity of the sun. She tried holding it tight between her fingertips but her body wracked with trembles that refused to cease.

"You are foolish for believing I was dead."

There were a few paths (Y/n) could take from here on out. Sure, maybe Kibutsuji were just a hallucination caused by stress, but if he wasn't, she had to have a plan. Some sort of concrete counter-attack in the worst case scenario.

A boy with lavender eyes and two-toned hair, snarky remarks and loud shouts of concern. (Y/n) heaved in a strangled breath. Yushiro. She had to find him even if it meant showing up on his doorstep like the pathetic waste of space she was. Because if Kibutsuji Muzan lived and she allowed him to take over her body, then the world would finally end in his reign.

Because if this were the same foe she remembered, then he would have already begun to conquer the sun.

The door slid open on the patio. "(Y/n)?" Kai zipped up his thick sweater with a shiver. "Come inside already, your lips are turning blue." She heaved out another breath and slowly turned to face her brother. She began to tremble, fingertips shaking along the hilt of her katana. Fear climbed into her golden eyes as their gazes locked firm and true and oh, no, no, no. She couldn't hold it in anymore. Not after forcing it down this disgusting feeling with a brave face.

Thump, thump.

Blood roared in (Y/n)'s ears. Her pulse beat erratically as her heart raced and ran. She couldn't feel her lips move as she spoke, voice painfully cracking. "Kibutsuji...he...won't go away." She sniffled weakly. "Nii-chan, can you...can you..."

Help me. The words stuck on her tongue. It wasn't something a Hashira should ever admit, or even feel to begin with. The Corps needed their pillars, they literal supports to hold up the organization before it crumbled. How far had (Y/n) fallen to turn to someone with tears trailing down her face?

"(Y/n)." The only thing Kai saw was the little girl he shielded against the horrors of the worst city slums. He saw her run beside him, bloody and beaten as a group of villains chased them through winding alleyways. No heroes ever came to their rescue no matter how loud they screamed. "(Y/n), come here."

No help on those streets, no love, no nothing besides each other. That was the cruelty of this society so centered on 'Heroes' and 'Villains', people who destroyed society from the ground up.

"Come here," Kai repeated. "Come." He didn't know what came over him. He crossed the expanse of snow long shoveled to the side, sandals doing no good to shield his bare feet from the biting chills. He opened his arms and pulled (Y/n) in a tight embrace.

Kai rested her head against his shoulder. It was gross how she cried and sniffled into his sweater, but that could wait since it was her.

"Nii-chan," there was sorrow in her eyes so fleeting it could have been a trick of the dim light, a mere fragment of imagination, "I think something's wrong with me."

In Kai's books, (Y/n) always came first. He wasn't affectionate, never was, but in those cold nights where rats and mice crawled over their feet, he never ceased to shield her from the cold. He hated how he didn't do anything to prevent it, to chase it away with all his might.

"I hate it when you cry," Kai softly said. "You must be scared and angry at me and Chrono. I didn't want to tell you anything because you don't need another thing to worry about, but seeing you like this is painful."

Kai ran his bare hands through (Y/n)'s hair. He had forgotten what it felt like to feel something besides his kitchen supplies and a bar of soap or the fabric of his own gloves. There was little he ever endured touching (and (Y/n) was always on that list, always). She was the light in his darkness--his little darling sunshine.

"I know what you're scared of." Kai hugged her closer. "You'll be okay. Yushiro is alive and lives under the pseudonym of 'Yamamoto', the same artist who painted what you saw at that store. The last place he was sighted at was in Musutafu near the west forest. He has a house somewhere in the suburban part of the area. I'll bring you to him after we have lunch. Wait until then, alright?"

(Y/n) heaved in a rattling breath and mustered a weak nod. She sniffled again, grip slackening on the hilt of her katana. She was tired. So, so, so tired. Kai's welcoming embrace was better than the comfort of a hot drink. It was impossible to think twice of letting go when he was so warm and stable, no matter how much he lied and hid from the truth.

When Kai set (Y/n) down on the couch and threw a mountain of blankets her way, she refused to let him leave her side. He set her katana down in the corner of the room, sheathed for safe keeping. The two sat together under various blankets, the faint sounds of the TV filling the background. "(Y/n)," Kai gave her a wry look, "you still have to eat."

"Not yet." She needed to know that this was real. Just in case she actually was going crazy with hauntings from the dead. "Please." Kai looked at her as if he would never see her again, as if this were the last time that anything could ever resemble the old life they once had. "Alright. Sleep, I'll wake you up around thirteen o'clock."

Time slipped from (Y/n)'s mind. She rested her head against Kai's lap, eyelids heavy. At least in his presence, she knew she wasn't alone with the phantom apparition of Kibutsuji. She found his hand and gave it a squeeze, just as she had when she was only but a little girl. "Promise you're not going to leave me while I sleep."

Kai squeezed (Y/n)'s hand back. He was supposed to finish making lunch, hence the lack of gloves, but it could wait. "I promise." He meant it. "Now go to sleep, I'll be here when you wake up." As (Y/n) finally shut her eyes, Kai felt himself relax in relief. He had mulled over his next course of action for the past month. After contacting Giran for a total of three days straight, he had gotten information worth its weight in gold.

The painter, 'Yamamoto' was actually 'Yushiro', the demon who (Y/n) bonded closely with during her time in the Taisho Era. He was the supposed assistant to the demon doctor Tamayo and a survivor of the Battle Until Dawn. There was no reason for Yushiro to turn (Y/n) away if they showed up on his doorstep, not when the sneaking suspicion that Kibutsuji lived on in her existed.

Kai adjusted the blankets around (Y/n)'s shoulders, making sure to tuck her in. She never seemed to feel the cold as intensely as she should. It was worrisome, just like everything else about her. Was the resistance to the cold a result of Ice Breathing? Flame Breathing? Or a combination?

Whatever it was didn't matter. It made (Y/n) more reckless, more prone to forgetting that she could suffer irreversible damage and die the next day. She didn't know anything past the basics of Overhaul: rebuilding and destroying. What lay beyond was something akin to regeneration, the ability to heal old scars, and curing fatigue.

Kai never told (Y/n) how to do any of those, and by the looks of it, she had no idea Overhaul included such abilities. Even if it would jeopardize Kai's mission, even if it would corner him and force him back ten steps, (Y/n) needed that. Imperatively.

What if she got hurt and couldn't figure out how to piece herself back together? What if she pushed herself too far to the brink of death? What if Kibutsuji consumed her for good and she had no means of fighting back due to physical fatigue? That fear of losing her stayed with Kai, hovering over his mind like a storm. It brewed, simmered, until all that remained was a sinking stream of worries.

Kai tutted, brow crinkling. "You are the bane of my day." He brushed a lock of hair away from the corner of (Y/n)'s mouth. "But what would I be if you did everything on your own?" Seeing her in such a deep sleep made Kai's heart flutter with warmth. He missed the simple times so quiet with peace and so tender with love where not even the harshest miseries could bring them to their knees.

Long ago, whenever (Y/n) slept, Oyaji used to kiss her on the top of the head. He did the same with Kai (if he weren't being pretentious and difficult), and it was silly, really. Stupid. Why make a show of what he already knew? Of course Oyaji loved them both, he didn't need a kiss on the forehead to know.

But...maybe there was something more to it? Something he couldn't quite understand? No one was watching. Hari was in the basement and all the Bullets were busy doing...whatever Kai assigned them to do. Right now, he didn't want to think about his goals and the future, or the horrible acts staining his unnaturally clean hands.

All that mattered (truly, genuinely mattered) was the (little) girl sleeping in his arms. She was once so small, barely half Kai's size. Yet now, like a droplet of water that fell from the sky on a winter's day, she changed, morphed into an intricate snowflake of subtle beauty. (Y/n)'s exterior was frosty, yet within that presence came the rising sun that refused to set. It burned bright among the wastelands of ice, no matter how overshadowed it was in darkness.

Kai removed his mask and tentatively lowered his head. He paused, sighing before placing a soft kiss to (Y/n)'s head. No hives. No itchy rashes. No nothing. He recoiled immediately with a frown, heat rising to his face. He felt nothing, besides a rising embarrassment tainting his face red.

"What am I doing?" There was nothing special about forehead kisses. Kai didn't understand why Oyaji used to do that when it was a showy display of affection. A thing he was very much sceptical of.

If (Y/n) saw him now, she'd probably laugh or burst into a fit of sobs. She seemed to do that a lot nowadays with those constant bouts of depressive episodes. It was warranted with the amount of horrors battle bestowed upon her, and that? It pained Kai more than the humiliation he subjected himself to.

But maybe...maybe he missed something again. Maybe there was more to this that simply refused to reach his enclosed mind. Kai sighed lowly, gaze burning holes into the wall. "This is stupid." He hated how young he felt for a man nearing his mid to late twenties. "I can't believe myself." He placed another kiss to (Y/n)'s head as innocent and soft as the last and this time, warmth filled his chest.

It reminded him of those summer days on that park bench, where Oyaji would sit by their side and offer them ice cream as solace from the heat. Hari would complain about how his melted too quickly, and (Y/n) would devour hers whole to prevent it from making her hands all sticky. The sky was pink and orange, dusted with red as they laughed about stupid things and childish quips.

And gods, where had the time gone? Where had his feet taken him to? Kai frowned to himself, a pang pulling at his heartstrings with yearning. "You're so damn annoying." he grumbled. "Everything I do is for Oyaji, the Hassaikai, and you. I have no regrets, even if you don't agree with me. So don't make this harder than it has to be."

Less than ten minutes passed before Kai found himself dozing off. His eyelids were heavy, and no matter how hard he tried to keep them open, he couldn't. He eventually gave up and fell asleep, head lolling against the back of the couch. A while later, Hari emerged from the basement. He made his way to the kitchen before pausing.

The sight of (Y/n) bundled up against Kai, and Kai fast asleep beside her made his heart warm with nostalgia. This once was a common sight long, long ago. Except...if this were their childhood, Hari would have been here too. He smiled with a pang in his heart and snapped a quick photo. It was best to leave them alone. He couldn't remember the last time either of them looked so at peace.

The sound of the clock chiming at the third hour startled Kai from his slumber. His eyes snapped open and he couldn't recall the last time he woke so frantically. Nothing caught him off guard anymore, besides the fact that he was supposed to take (Y/n) to Musutafu two hours ago.

The drive was long, both to and fro. It would be inconvenient to have to brave it at one in the morning to come back to the Compound. Kai's gaze landed on (Y/n)'s sleeping face. She looked so serene, so calm that it made him feel bad about having to wake her up.

"(Y/n)," he gave her a light shake, "let's go." She bolted upright and smacked her forehead into Kai's. The two hissed in pain, rubbing at their sore faces.

"(Y/n)!" Kai exclaimed. "What was that for?" She swallowed hard, sheepishly grumbling a 'sorry'. "Never mind that, go dress warm. We're leaving in ten minutes." (Y/n) slowly hauled herself off the couch. She snatched a blanket and kept it wrapped around her before disappearing down the hall. Kai stood and made his way into the kitchen.

Everything was spotless, cleaned, and placed into its respective cabinet. On the table sat a plate of rice balls and a side of karage (fried chicken). A note sat beside an empty bento box.

The roads are icy today. I'm pretty sure it's snowing tomorrow, so the roads are still okay.
-Hari

Kai picked up the note with a scoff. For once, it seemed Chrono was doing something worthwhile. He folded the note and placed it in his pocket before quickly washing his hands and packing the food into the bento box. Once he had finished, (Y/n) had already appeared. She stood in the threshold as she zipped up her coat.

"Alright," Kai picked up the bento, "let's go. This is for you to eat on the way."

Music quietly filled the background as the car hummed along the streets. Kai had swapped out his iconic purple fur bomber for a thicker down jacket with a scarf and black gloves. He looked cool, thought (Y/n). But she'd never tell him that out loud.

"Are you cold?" inquired Kai. (Y/n) shook her head. She slowly chewed on her meal, mulling over the flavors of the onigiri. The bursts of flavours from the sauce and seasoning differed from the usual palette Kai chose whenever he cooked. It was still good, but unfamiliar. "Did you make this?"

Kai kept his eyes glued on the road, brow furrowing. "What? I can't hear you."

"Did you make this," (Y/n) repeated. "It tastes different from your usual cooking." Kai kept his gaze focused on the snowy white roads. "Chrono made it. I fell asleep."

Oh. No wonder why it tasted so salty. (Y/n) wanted to spit out the food and call it a day, but she wasn't that petty. Hari's cooking was tolerable considering she didn't have to spend a second in his presence. Besides, he was a pretty good cook, even if it was without soul.

"If you're going to insult Chrono's cooking because you're mad at him, don't." Kai flicked on the blinkers and switched lanes. "You were fine eating it until I told you." (Y/n) sent him a dirty look through the mirror. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"Yeah right. You were probably going to say it was 'too salty', weren't you?" (Y/n) grimaced with an indignant huff. "Well, to be fair, Hari didn't do anything when Nemoto-san used his Quirk on me. I kicked that little midget in compensation, but still. I thought we were friends."

Concern flashed in Kai's eyes. "You are friends."

(Y/n) leaned back in her seat with a pout. It was true, but with the way she had gripped his coat between her trembling fingers and begged him to answer her, she wasn't so sure anymore. Then there was Kai, her elder brother with the same cold, calculating eyes as her own.

"What about you?" (Y/n) quietly said. "It's like you don't care anymore about the things that matter. Sure, you take care of me, and you watch me while I'm sick, but you never tell me anything anymore. What happened?"

Kai's gaze didn't leave the road. Snow began to fall from the sky as the windscreen wipers squeaked across the glass. He eased up on the pedal. "There are some things that aren't worth knowing," --Kai looked troubled, uncomfortable-- "especially when you're still grieving."

A frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips. "I'm not 'grieving'." She said the word like she had been stabbed. "And I'm not a little kid anymore either. I've been through worse, heck, I nearly died and you don't think I can handle the truth? Tell me anything, I want to know. I'm a Hashira who risked everything for the Corps, there's little I can't take."

Kai's grip tightened around the steering, those black gloves stretching against his taut knuckles. "That's the problem." His voice was strained with frustration, an icy anger like the Arctic. "You're only fifteen."

(Y/n) stiffened, back straight and hands all clammy. So what? Muichiro was the same age as her before he died.

"You say things like 'it was an honour to serve the Corps' or it was your 'duty', but there's nothing honourable about risking your life since the age of eleven, or losing the last of your youth to grueling training and death. You don't realize it, but I do. You're traumatised and you're suffering because you saw your friends die and witnessed the near annihilation of the Corps all because of some damn hero who couldn't do his job right."

Kai tried schooling his features, schooling his failing composure, yet the words slipped past his lips, escaped his grasp like tiny granules of sand.

"And you have the audacity to believe even for a mere second that I don't care anymore?" He shook his head, the biting edge of disappointment clear on his face. "You said you want the truth? Fine, I'll give it to you now." The squeaking of the windscreen wipers were long gone to the blood roaring in his ears. To the darkness overtaking his mind in red. "You're weak. Naive. Akaza's dying wish was for you to kill him by your own hands, yet you drown in guilt because you think it was all your fault."

It was like Kai were far, far away, trapped between the raging storm outside and the static of his own mind. "Wake up, (Y/n)!" he exclaimed. "If you were half the Hashira you should be, then you wouldn't wallow in your own self-pity. It's sad and it's pathetic. Akaza would be just as disappointed as me."

(Y/n) bit her lip, chewed on it until blood threatened to leak past the broken skin. Kai didn't care, and maybe it was because he didn't want to. Ever since (Y/n) came back home, she was nothing but trouble. Constantly getting sick, running into shady characters, coming back home late, and refuting Kai's wishes.

Trouble was never good for the Shie Hassaikai. It only hurt more to know (Y/n) had been right all along--she was never smart like Kai and Hari, never academically inclined, far from naturally talented. No matter what anyone told her (especially her brother), she would never be enough because...because...

"You only get out of bed for the sake of your own ignorance about modern education. You can't rival your peers at U.A. and if not for that recommendation letter, you wouldn't have much chance of beating the other applicants. You aren't smart like that." Kai was losing control. Fighting against the last bit of fading rationality he possessed. "Good luck catching up to them when you have the attention span of a rabid animal and the memory of a goldfish. I don't know why I keep trying to teach you, it's a waste of my time."

(Y/n)'s eyes watered while Kai spat and seethed, too wrapped up in the hurling whirlwind of his mind to notice. Helplessly, he could only think of a single phrase to repeat. Stop it. Stop it. Stop. It. He didn't stop, the venom only kept leaking, poisoning his words with acid.

"You think you're stupid."

(Y/n) swallowed hard.

"A waste of space."

She glared at her hands clenched into tight fists.

"So you text that damn hero Hawks since he makes you feel special when you're lonely and sad." Kai's expression was angry and cruelly unfeeling as he watched the tears fall down (Y/n)'s reddened cheeks. "Lastly, you're self-centered and selfish, so you think everything is your fault. You shoulder all the blame, as if the world revolves around you like an arrogant brat."

That wasn't true. (Y/n) wasn't arrogant, or a brat, or someone who was selfish. She gave up her life, gave up her everything, for the peace of the world. For the sake of the future.

(So the innocent could smile again)

"You think you could have made any lasting impact to change the deaths of your friends?" Kai demanded with a tut of dismiss. "Don't be stupid, you would have died alongside Akaza. Maybe it would have made you happy since death is the only thing you care for these days, right?"

Kai sighed lowly. In the reflection of the headlights, his liquid golden eyes shone damply. "Don't cry. That's the truth, just as you asked, (Y/n)." He forced his gaze on the road to avoid that look of hurt and pain in the mirror. "Heroes think they're special, they think they can save the world, but in the end, Quirks or not, we all die since we're just people, nothing more, nothing less. We're all worthless because when we die, life goes on and nobody cares."

Nobody cares? (Y/n) shut her eyes, breaths staggering. Of course, she knew that. Why else did her comrades die so quickly, so carelessly as if they were nothing? Why else did history forget the Corps who fought so hard until every demon was eradicated?

The tears refused to stop. It grew into sobs, like a wave rising to the shores before crashing against the sand. It must have sounded awful because Kai almost swerved into the wrong lane. His gaze flickered to the mirror, where (Y/n)'s reflection glared back at him. She sat hunched over her knees, shoulders shaking as she tried stifling her hiccups. An uncomfortable pit formed in Kai's gut as he watched in tense silence.

The windscreen wipers squeaked a little too loudly against the snow piling against the glass. (Y/n)'s sobs slowly quieted to whimpers. Whimpers that should have made her throat all scratchy and her voice all hoarse. Instead, it sounded like she was choking on air and--

Fuck. Did she just stop breathing?

"(Y/n)?"

She began to cough through a sob.

"(Y/n)."

She coughed again and Kai's heart sank. He heaved out a strained breath, "(Y/n), are you okay?" She choked on seemingly nothing, a small phrase barely leaving her trembling lips. "Can't--I--can't..."

Breathe.

(Y/n) was suddenly in the library, just as the evening where Hari dropped her by the curbside promising to come back in an hour or two. Hands had strangled her, wrapped around her throat tight, with the intent to kill. To shed her blood. This was different, there was nothing grabbing her but the own fear she carried in her heart.

"(Y/n)."

Her shallow breaths filled the expanse of silence, the expanse of an eternal rift between herself and reality. She couldn't fully hear Kai when he called her name, or feel his touch as he placed a hand to her shoulder. When had the car stopped? She didn't know and that didn't matter because all she knew was that she couldn't breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Useless, that was what (Y/n) was, nothing but a waste of empty space that Auntie loved to kick around and beat.

The edges of her vision were going black, the world threatening to spin and throw her overboard into unconsciousness. Her chest heaved up and down. Up and down. Where was the oxygen she so dearly craved? The air she could barely taste? Kai was saying something again, and even if it was kind and genuine, it fell on deaf ears.

She was worthless. A burden her brother only took pity on. A waste of space. He was right, everything that fell past his lips was the hard, cold truth (Y/n) was too scared to see. Just like the world that threatened to fade to black, or the pulse in her veins slowing to a pause.

(Y/n) could still hear her shallow breaths and the vague sounds of Kai's voice. He sounded so scared, so frightened, that it made her want to laugh. But she couldn't because she still couldn't breathe.

"(Y/n), listen to me!"

She didn't want to listen to him, or that little voice in the back of her head that sounded and acted like Kibutsuji.

"(Y/n), please!"

Please? Was that what her brother was resorting to? Begging just as she had when she grabbed Hari by the collar of his raincoat? (Y/n) wasn't sure if she were crying anymore or if actually started to laugh. The oxygen simply wasn't reaching her lungs.

"You fool!"

No, no, no, no! That was the last person she wanted to hear. The last person she needed to see. A figure emerged from the edge of her faded vision, a figure with sickly pale skin and eyes redder than blood.

"You hate yourself so much that you want to die like this?" Kibutsuji seethed. "I suffered beside you far too long to lose you as my host. You made a promise to the Number Two Hero, you cannot die. I won't tolerate it, Little Ice Hashira."

(Y/n)'s insides ran cold. Her limbs went numb, all feeling in her system vanishing. She was tied up, a mere puppet to the hateful energy coursing into her veins. It burned and she might have screamed, but nothing in her body seemed to work. Kai was holding her hand, squeezing her fingers to remind her of the feeling that shouldn't have been absent yet was.

Help. That word sat desperately on her lips and all she could do was submit to the pull of sleep.

---

Fear. When was the last time Chisaki Kai--no, Overhaul--felt such an excruciating emotion? Ever since he committed to Project Zero, nothing had been the same. He cast aside his old name for a new identity, a new him. The plague masks, the disgusting way hives broke out on his skin more often (an underlying condition that worsened in (Y/n)'s absence), they were all new additions to what he used to be long ago.

And what he had to be in the now.

Kai hurriedly trudged through the snow piling high across the pavement, arms wrapped tightly around the girl clutched firm against his back. Wind howled, kicking up clouds of white that made him cough on the dry air. House number five was listed among three other addresses as Yamamoto Yushiro's home.

"Where is it?" Kai fought back a sneeze. The black dust mask wasn't helping to keep his face warm. "I passed by this house already!"

Number fifteen was a dead-end where the door barely hung on its hinges and number two was occupied by a family of redheads. It was clear the moment Kai got a glimpse of the family eating dinner that that wasn't his destination. The last house was Number Five, a seemingly nonexistent home that should have sat beyond a brick wall separating the streets.

Over the wall was the west forest, the last place Giran stated Yushiro had been sighted at. So where was the hell was house? All Kai was greeted with was the biting chill of winter and the harsh flakes of snow piercing his eyes. He adjusted his grip on (Y/n), making sure that her head didn't loll around.

Guilt beat against Kai's chest, a rapid pace that left him breathless and struggling for clarity. He couldn't think as he paced up and down the street, re-reading each number for the third time in the past ten minutes. Number five. Number five. Where was it?

If Kai didn't hurry up, (Y/n) was at risk of either losing her life for good, or becoming subject to whatever had seized her last moments of consciousness. Those liquid golden hues so sad and muted like winter had turned red as blood. They illuminated in the endless night, slits that narrowed murderously as fangs grew from (Y/n)'s canines. Her growls and screeches left Kai's insides trembling, heart pounding.

Then as quickly as (Y/n) had transformed, she went limp. Desolate as the North Pole. The fangs retracted, and her eyes ceased to glow luminously as her pulse slowed. And slowed. And slowed.

It scared Kai, he didn't want to diagnose (Y/n) to the doors of Death. Not after only just gaining her in his life, and not after promising Oyaji that he'd take care of her. Kai didn't want to think of what could happen (hands going forever cold against his, eyes turning to glass. Unfeeling, empty with death).

"Where is it?" Kai huffed and heaved, dragging his heavy limbs through the piling snow. It nearly reached his mid-shin, threatening to pool into his winter boots.

Number five. House number five. It had to be here, it had to be. Kai continued up and down the street, brisk walk turning into a frenzied jog. His arms burned and his lungs were uncomfortably cold. "Bear with me," he pleaded through gritted teeth, "just a little longer (Y/n). Nii-chan won't let you die, I promise."

"(Y/n)?"

Kai whipped around, golden eyes narrowing dangerously. He half expected someone to jump him in a weak attempt to kill him. A pair of cat-like eyes caught his sight and he paused. The man was dressed in a thick hanten coat, a woolen kimono, and hakama. His gaze fell upon (Y/n), who was still sound asleep against Kai's back.

The man tensed. "Follow me or else your sister will die." He motioned towards the brick wall Kai had glared at for the past ten minutes. The man walked straight into it, but instead of colliding, he slipped into the other side.

Kai felt like he had been robbed. This whole time, there was a house on the other side? Hope threatened to rise in his heart, but he smashed it. There was no guarantee (Y/n) would be alright, even if this man could be Yamamoto Yushiro. But still. It was worth the effort. Worth the risk of believing in something that could be nothing.

Kai broke into a sprint and passed to the other side. He quickly followed the man inside the house, snow and ice melting into puddles wherever he lingered. The door shut with a loud slam.

"Set her down on the couch," Yushiro (Kai hoped) said. "What happened before you came here?" The man began removing (Y/n)'s snow-trodden coat and scarf, roughly shoving it into Kai's arms. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "(Y/n) couldn't breathe well."

"Anxiety attack?" Yushiro inquired. He looked unimpressed when Kai nodded. "What did you do to her?" Under the harsh gaze, he didn't have the strength to form flowery lies. "We had an argument."

"Must be some argument," Yushiro angrily grumbled. He quickly drifted into the kitchen before reappearing with a box of medical supplies. "She has her Demon Slayer Mark. Why?" Kai pursed his lips together under his mask. "I believe she's trying to keep Kibutsuji at bay. She mentioned how she heard him on various occasions, but I wasn't sure if he was her imagination or not."

Yushiro unfolded a blanket and set it over (Y/n)'s sleeping form. He tucked made sure to pull it over her shoulders before opening a few baggies and mixing some sort of lilac concoction. The liquid illuminated in the warm overhead lights, an ominous colour that made Kai frown.

"Wake her up for me." Yushiro commanded. "I need her to drink this."

Kai's gaze narrowed. "What is that?" Yushiro set down a bowl and glared daggers. "Useless human." He shook (Y/n) awake, grumbling under his breath. "I'm not asking you to do rocket science, just shake her awake. You want her to live or not, Kai?"

Kai ignored the fact that a stranger knew his given name and complied (for (Y/n) and only (Y/n)). She stirred, a cough bubbling in her throat. Dark circles had formed under her eyes where her cheeks were all sunken and pale.

Yushiro firmly hit her back and forced the bowl to her lips. "Drink this, you'll feel better." His harsh voice softened to a gentle hum. He waited patiently for (Y/n) to swallow every last drop, that hard gaze softening worriedly. "I'll make you some soup, for now, rest. Your brother will wait here with you while I cook."

Yushiro made sure to tuck (Y/n) back in before disappearing into the kitchen. The sounds of clacking metal and running water fought against the static of Kai's mind. He pursed his lips together tight, biting back a sigh.

"What did you do to her?"

It wasn't a matter of doing, but a matter of what had been said. Kai, like his sister, took things too far. Sometimes, he forgot his limits, ignored the warning signs, and flew completely off the handle. He couldn't stop, couldn't keep his loud mouth shut until it was too late.

"Nii-chan, I think something's wrong with me."

"You're fine."

"No," (Y/n) had squeezed her eyes tight, as if to erase something in her line of sight, "I don't think so anymore. I must be going crazy."

Kai gave (Y/n)'s hand a squeeze. She was cold, even through his black winter gloves. "Your nii-chan is an idiot," he muttered, "and no apology can fix that." (Y/n) continued to sleep soundlessly. With her sunken cheeks and pale face, she looked like she had begun to pass to the other side.

If that dared to happen, Kai wasn't sure he would ever forgive himself.

Modern Era Secrets!

-Kai used to read manga with (Y/n) when they were young
-Hari generally preferred anime since he liked to listen to the different voices. He also reads shojo romance
-Kai is very good at taking care of people (*cough* (Y/n) *cough*)
-on the way to Yushiro's house, Kai almost got into a car accident. A truck exploded and heroes had to show up to clean up the mess
-(Y/n) taught Hari how to make onigiri
-(Y/n) talks to Oyaji before bed. Sometimes she falls asleep, so Kai has to move her to her room or give her a blanket and pillow.
-Kai really does spoil (Y/n), but he's stupid so he makes a lot of mistakes
-(Y/n) likes sleeping near other people because it reminds her of Akaza, who used to sleep beside her on most nights

Did you notice the parallels between you and Kai VS Tanjiro and Nezuko? Hurrying through the streets for help, hoping that your younger sister will be okay. The only difference really was that Tanjiro wasn't the cause of the situation, haha...

Chapter Text

Metanoia: change in one's mind, commonly through spiritual awakening/journey

'That they all say
Things you wanna hear
My heavy heart sinks deep down under
You and your twisted words
Your help just hurts
You are not what I thought you were...'
-Love Song, Sara Bareilles

Hakuji didn't know what to do. With his back harshly pressed up against the dirty alleyway, he thought he might as well go into cardiac arrest. His chest heaved, shallow, staccato breaths that left him gasping for air. Why wouldn't this girl leave him alone? And why did she keep pursuing him like some creepy stalker?

The girl grabbed Hakuji's jaw, gripping it tight between her manicured nails. "Stay still, promise I'll be quick." Her voice was breathy, high-pitched and shrill. "It's pretty boys like you that are the funnest to tease."

But Hakuji didn't want to be teased, or taken out by this girl. She thought she was empress of the world with those three-inch heels and that short skirt that kept riding up her thighs--

Gods. Hakuji wanted to die. "Leave me alone," he stated. "I don't hit girls, but I'll make an exception to you." The girl's eyes lit up and it was uncannily familiar. She grinned widely, manically. "So you'd hit a pretty girl like me?" She laughed and it echoed in the vacant alleyway. "I'll stab your eyes out before you do."

Stab his eyes out...? Heck no. Hakuji promised his dad he'd be home before four thirty in the evening because it was winter and it got dark out so quickly. He also promised to watch that new anime with Koyuki, the one about a chainsaw man, or something--he didn't know. But the point was, he wouldn't let some random girl ruin his life because she wanted to have 'fun'.

"Who are you?" Hakuji demanded. "This is the fifth time you've tried cornering me in some abandoned street." And also the first she caught me, he thought. Hakuji wanted answers because no way would some girl go after him for any mundane reason. Was she hired? Or just crazy?

Green eyes bore into Hakuji's own. They shone demonically in the light of dusk, where for a moment, he thought he saw a number flash in her irises. She leaned forward, breath fanning against Hakuji's cheeks, and it was gone. "I only spend my time on beautiful people and you're pretty cute. Consider yourself lucky, got it?"

"Ume!"

The girl stiffened, that manic expression melting. She released Hakuji's face with a sour frown, sneering. "Onii-chan, what do you want?" A figure stood at the mouth of the alleyway. He was no taller than Hakuji, with a hunched back and a face hidden underneath a dirty old scarf. He coughed up some phlegm and spat it against the ground. "Stop fooling around, I told you to leave that kid alone."

"But he's cute, let me have my fun."

The boy let out a long-suffering sigh and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "It's fine, I already got our money for the month. You don't have to mug him or anything, let's go, it's cold."

Mug him? Hakuji's breath hitched. He wearily kept his gaze trained on the girl as she zipped up her coat and sucked her teeth. "Fine, fine. Geez, you're a kill-joy, Onii-chan."

"And you're wasting your time," the boy retorted with a grunt. "Let's go." 'Ume' humph-ed and jogged over to her brother before looping arms. They disappeared around the corner, snow crunching under their shoes.

Hakuji heaved out a breath, watching as white vapours swirled past his lips and into the grey winter skies. He rubbed his hands together. That was too close. Much too close. If that girl's brother hadn't shown up at the last second, he would have had to take matters into his own hands.

A punch or two wouldn't have done anything to the girl, right? She was strong and he was sure her fingertips left red marks upon his skin. Besides, there was only one person he'd allow to (manhandle) touch him.

Chisaki (Y/n), his love, his dear--his everything.

It was late by the time Hakuji arrived home. He knew he could have walked faster, but with the memory of another girl's hands on his face and the familiar look of insanity in her eyes, he needed to clear his head. Where had he seen that girl before? He couldn't remember, and maybe that was because he didn't want to. Not the number he thought he saw, and not that sinister glow that reminded him of That Man.

The door creaked as Hakuji shut and locked it. He shook off his boots, setting them aside in a plastic tray for shoes.

"Where were you?" called Keizo from the kitchen. Hakuji made his way into the warm house, savory scents of miso and soy sauce filling his nose delightfully. "I got caught up." He set his jacket on the back of a chair and plopped down, resting his head in his arms. "What's for dinner?" Keizo stirred a pot on the stove, grinning brightly. "There's supposed to be a storm tonight, so I thought some udon soup would keep everyone warm."

A pair of footsteps echoed down the hall, light and dainty like a meadow of flowers in the summertime. "Welcome home!" Hakuji didn't need to look up to know who it was. He felt himself smile as the girl chattered away. "Where were you? I thought we were going to watch anime today."

"I got caught up in something." Hakuji said, lifting his head to rest his chin to a hand. "I'll watch anime with you after dinner, 'Yuki." He smiled apologetically and she let out an irritated huff. "Okay, fine. But it means we won't get through the last few episodes because we have school tomorrow. What if we miss the best part?"

The mention of school made Hakuji perk up. He thought of a girl with golden eyes and a radiant smile as beautiful as winter's glistening snow. She would probably say something about how he wasn't much of a scholar, or compliment him for even trying when he wasn't into academics. Then she'd probably take his hand in hers and give it a squeeze, mumbling about how she wanted to go for a walk with him.

It was funny. How did Hakuji even end up in the present anyway? The last thing he remembered was dying in (Y/n)'s arms as nothing but a head, then vanishing and meeting her on the other side before seeing nothing but black. And then suddenly, he was here in the Soyama household with his dead fiance and his dead father-in-law as their adoptive son.

Yes, adoptive son. Hakuji learned to stop questioning things--until he learned what year it was. It so-happened that Keizo, his adoptive father, fought with (Y/n) at grandpa's shop and lost (in less than a single second). The re-telling made Hakuji want to laugh. Of course his dear (Y/n) would win. His father was no match for an absolute goddess such as herself.

"'Tou-san," Hakuji stared at his hands, "have you by any chance seen (Y/n)?"

Keizo took a seat at the table with a tilt of his head. "'(Y/n)'?" he echoed, a smile rising to his lips. "You sound like you know her." Hakuji stood and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet with a huff. Heat threatened to rise to his cheeks as he began filling the bowl with udon soup. Right, they shouldn't be on a first-name basis.

"I don't." he said, tone clipped and short. "I was just wondering if you had seen her." He handed the bowl to Koyuki, who thanked him with a bright smile. "You must be interested in her, right?" she inquired. "Especially since Haku-nii is so great at martial arts." A blush threatened to rise to Hakuji's face. He filled his own bowl with udon soup and huffed again. "I'm not that good." Yeah, because he used to be so much better when he was a demon. "I'm just curious about (Y/n)."

Mirth flashed in Keizo's eyes. He chuckled and Hakuji cursed himself for saying (Y/n)'s name so casually (like he used to). "Don't laugh at me! I don't even know her." Lies. "Who else do you know that can beat up people before they can blink?"

"You." Koyuki pitched in ever so innocently. When Hakuji cast her a glare, she only smiled. He pursed his lips into a pout, grumbling, "That's besides the point. I want to see what she can do."

"You're blushing."

"I am not, 'Yuki!"

"Yes you are." she said with a giggle. "Do you like her? You haven't even met her yet, Haku-nii. What a weirdo."

"Koyuki!"

Bursts of playful laughter filled the air. Even with the furious blush painting Hakuji's cheeks beet-red, he couldn't stay mad. A soft smile fell upon his face. Hopefully, wherever (Y/n) was, she was just as happy as him.

---

Kai wasn't sure how long he had sat by (Y/n)'s bedside today. That damned cat, Chachamaru hadn't moved either from his spot in the corner of the room. He watched with Kai as she tossed and turned in the sheets, listened as she muttered incoherently and weakly shouted in her sleep. That Demon Slayer Mark was ever prominent against (Y/n)'s jaw. Ever present like a curse.

It was the seventh of February, another day that marked the long month of (Y/n)'s deep slumber. She was in a comatose-like state, one that left her incapacitated and bedridden.

(Y/n) kept a firm grip on Kai's wrist enough to crack his bones, but he didn't push her away. Nor did he leave.

"Promise you're not going to leave me while I sleep."

"I promise."

Kai untangled (Y/n)'s legs from the blanket and pulled it over her shoulders. She shifted against the pillow, dark locks falling against her face. He brushed them behind her ear.

"I hate it when you cry," Kai had said. "You must be scared and angry at me and Chrono."

The wind howled outside, rattling against the window pane.

"We're all worthless because when we die, life goes on and nobody cares."

If there was anyone who was worthless, it was Kai. He hated himself, and it was steadily growing into regret. If he hadn't taken the first step into eternal darkness, then maybe this wouldn't have happened. He wouldn't have begun Project Zero, or kept it a secret, and wouldn't have had to lie, steal, and cheat his way out of everything he did.

And blood would not have been shed.

The door slid open. Yushiro balanced a tray of tea and shut the it behind him. He set the tray on the floor and poured two steaming cups. "I already told you, she's not going to wake up for a while," he sternly said, handing Kai a cup. "It's a battle that may last as long as a year."

A year? But Kai couldn't wait a year. Even if it was impossible to make amends, he wanted to see (Y/n) anywhere but in bed. Even if it meant she wanted nothing to do with him, even if it meant disappearing from her life for good. He was the final push in these dire circumstances, another cog of many that contributed to the end of all ends.

"I've never seen her so scared." Kai's voice was nothing more than a monotone. "And the one person she asked for help from was me. (Y/n) trusted me to be there for her, but instead, I used her insecurities against her. I insulted her. Now she's bedridden and there's nothing I can do."

(Y/n) released Kai's hand and turned on her side. He stared at the red marks upon his bare skin before blowing on his tea and taking a long sip. "If she didn't move, I would've thought she were dead." he quietly said. "How do you know she'll wake up?"

Yushiro's gaze fell on (Y/n)'s sleeping face. Her brows were knit tightly and her face was screwed up in an expression of pain. "Did (Y/n) tell you about Kamado Tanjiro? The boy with a demon sister?"

"Yes."

"Nezuko, the sister, slept for a whole year without moving before being transformed into a demon. If (Y/n)'s lucky, she'll be spared from that fate, but it's unlikely. She's fighting Kibutsuji's will." Steam wafted from Yushiro's cup, languidly rising into the cool air. "From what I can see, she will be fine."

There was no reason to refute. Even though (Y/n) hadn't drank or eaten anything for a whole month, she looked as radiant and healthy as a normal girl her age. If it was some Demon magic keeping her well, Kai couldn't complain. It kept (Y/n) alive. Kept her miles away from the doors of death.

"What exactly did you say to her?" Yushiro suddenly inquired. "Before Kibutsuji took over?" A bad taste filled Kai's mouth. His stomach churned with nausea and his mind swam with regrets that left his throat scratchy and dry. He could call it a day and lie, but he had a feeling the demon doctor would sense it.

"What I said isn't your business."

Yushiro whipped around so fast it was a surprise his neck didn't snap. "If it affects her health, it is." he stated. "I can't help (Y/n) if you don't tell me the full details." A long silence fell over the room. Kai didn't want to speak to this stranger, no matter how close he was to his sister. The best compromise was to change the subject. Maybe then, Yushiro would leave him alone to think through the loudness of his mind.

"(Y/n) deserves better." Kai ignored the death glare Yushiro sent him. "I shouldn't be a part of her life when I cause her pain."

A frown painted itself on Yushiro's face. He set down his cup and allowed Chachamaru to curl up on his lap with a meow. "You're an asshole, you know that? You didn't answer my question." Kai didn't have the strength to refute. There was something about Yushiro's presence that filled the room with centuries of wisdom and thought. He felt stupid here. "Yeah."

"You're still her brother, even though you suck." Yushiro took a swig of tea to ground himself. "I don't like you. Whatever you did caused (Y/n) to lose control. Now she's fighting for both her life and the sake of the world, again. She never catches a break and you made it worse." He paused, eyes distant and far in long forgotten memories. "(Y/n) will hold a grudge, but you're lucky she won't hate you."

"No, she will."

Yushiro scoffed and rested his back against the wall, gaze falling on the window. Moonlight leaked through the midnight skies, casting the dim room in an ethereal glow. It was peaceful. Morbidly serene. "When I first met (Y/n), she was still the Tsuguko of the Flame Hashira. She didn't strike me as someone important."

A half-dead body, a beaten face, broken limbs beyond repair. The night was frigid for summertime, where even the soft breezes bit at Yushiro's face.

"I didn't care when I first saw her, but knowing Tamayo-sama's generosity, we had to take her in. I thought she would die. She had fought one of the Upper Moons, yet after a week of sleeping, she woke with barely any wounds left. I didn't know it then, but she used her Quirk."

"Overhaul." Kai pitched in. "The Quirk to take apart and put things back together." Yushiro caught his gaze sharply. "Do you share the same Quirk?" Kai nodded. "Yes, but (Y/n) doesn't have a firm understanding of anything outside the basics."

Cue another scoff. It was beginning to become a habit of Yushiro's. "Of course," he muttered under his breath. "Anyway, my point is, after (Y/n) woke up, she realised Tamayo-sama and I were demons. She wasn't scared and instead, thanked us before leaving. A week later, she came back with gifts."

Yushiro folded his arms across his chest. Heat threatened to rise to his face at the memory. He had tried to tell (Y/n) that neither of them needed the gifts and that they were demons, but she didn't care. She needed to make sure they both knew she was grateful.

"Your sister is kind and strong. Unless you betray her trust in a way that harms others, she won't hate you." Yushiro's gaze flickered to Kai's. He sensed a change in the air, a shift that left his fingertips cold and stiff. "Unless you have?"

Kai didn't answer. Instead, he set the cup on the tray and stood. "It's getting late. Thank you, Yushiro-san. I will be back next week." Kai made his way to the door, but before he could leave, Yushiro called out to him. There was a danger in those lilac eyes, a luminous glow that made the sneer on his face gleam dangerously. "If you do anything to hurt (Y/n), I won't forgive you."

Forgive? Like Kai could care less. No matter how much regret weighed down his heart, no matter how much hatred he carried in his chest, there was no turning back. Mistakes could never be erased, and if Kai backed out now, what would become of the Hassaikai? Of the glory he promised to bring?

"I wouldn't forgive myself either," he muttered under his breath.

Kai wanted to change--he knew it deep down. But it was too late. Far, too late to step into the light.

---

The scent of sakura was the first indicator of the changing seasons. In Japan, it was tradition to acknowledge such natural consequences of the world's spinning axis. (Y/n) couldn't believe her eyes the moment she stepped out into the light. Pink petals fluttered through the warm breezes, flooding her view in its delicate caress.

"W-what..."

"It's springtime," said Kibutsuji. "And unfortunately, you have dominance over this vessel. Consider yourself unjustifiably blessed to receive my aid."

Alive or not, Kibutsuji was still inside her, poisoning. Inching into every nook of her soul. It had been a long battle against his influence, one where (Y/n) was sure she would have lost if not for the voices of her dead (family) friends. Now here she stood on pins and needles, breathing in the sweet smell of flowers and the earthy scent of dirt and grass.

Kibutsuji went to sleep in the back of her mind. He probably needed to recover after losing so desperately against her.

The thought almost made (Y/n) want to smile, until she took a good look around and realised where she was. This isn't my house, she thought.

The two-story house wasn't as large as the Compound, nor was it extremely lavish or poor-looking. The architecture was beautiful and the pathway leading to a brick wall at the end of the yard was splendidly paved. Then there was the large yard filled with skillfully groomed plants and vegetables.

Okay. So this obviously wasn't a hospital, nor was it an apartment. Why was there a pathway towards the wall? Who knew. There were no patients, nor were there any suspicious looking people in her vicinity. A prick in the back of (Y/n)'s neck made her stiffen. Warmth filled her fingertips, cast her heart in light. It struck like lighting and all those pins and needles vanished.

The sun kissed (Y/n)'s face as she turned around, golden eyes wide. She was sure she wouldn't cry, not after knowing how pathetic she looked for a Hashira. Yet the man before her only smiled in welcome, as if he expected her. As if he wanted her to be here.

"Good morning, (Y/n)." He had never sounded so sweet, so relieved.

(Y/n) raced forward and tackled Yushiro in a hug, sniffling and mumbling hoarsely through her tears. "T-the sun...how...?" Yushiro was never a hugger, yet to be in his arms was nothing short of bliss and comfort. He paused before holding (Y/n) tight, like she were the reason for flowers to bud and bloom.

"It's fine," he said. "I won't burn up."

That didn't stop (Y/n) from trying to haul him inside. With her monstrous strength, Yushiro couldn't do anything but follow after her. The two fell into the kitchen, where a pot of tea slowly bubbled on the stove. (Y/n) wanted to speak, to ask about everything and anything, but her throat was dry and it hurt.

"Sit down," Yushiro said with a wave of his hands. "I'll get you some tea." Chachamaru appeared from the living room with a meow. Before (Y/n) could turn around, he had already climbed into her lap with a purr, rubbing his head against her stomach. She almost smiled. Almost.

"Here." Yushiro set down a steaming cup of rosehip tea and was sure to add a spoonful of honey for (Y/n)'s enjoyment (she had a bad sweet tooth). "You've been asleep since January. I'm not surprised you're already up and walking like nothing happened. It's been a pain to take care of you, you know."

(Y/n) blew on her tea and took a sip. The hot liquid soothed the itch in her throat and filled her cold stomach with warmth. "Thank you," she mumbled. "I...didn't mean to make you go through with...everything. ...Sorry." Yushiro's brows knitted. He had never heard (Y/n) stutter like that (or apologise). At least, not unless she were being wooed by Upper Moon Three.

It was hard not to sigh. Yushiro had to bite it back before speaking, "You have about two weeks before the first day of school. Don't worry about anything else but your own recovery, and please, don't stress yourself." He pursed his lips tightly, a troubled look in his eyes. "What happened to Kibutsuji?"

The light died from (Y/n)'s eyes. Any mention of his name brought about a wave of exhaustion she couldn't fend off. "I don't know. He's still here and he's mad I almost died."

"Because you're his only vessel." Yushiro noted with a scowl. "The nerve. Does that monster have no shame? Even after we all got rid of him, too."

There was nothing much to say, so (Y/n) sipped her tea quietly.

Springtime. She couldn't believe she had been at kahoots with the Progenitor of all demons for over three months. If the flowers had already bloomed and it was warm enough to go outside without a jacket, then...oh, wait. Yushiro mentioned school, didn't he?

"School is starting soon." (Y/n) set her cup down with wide eyes. "Oji-san, I have to get back home. I lost too much time, I have to review before the first day of school!" A scowl ripped across Yushiro's inhumanly perfect face. He took a long swig of tea as if it were a mug of beer. "You woke up less than fifteen minutes ago after a battle against the Progenitor of Demons and that's your first worry? Yare, yare, (Y/n)...!"

She pursed her lips, at a loss for words. "I'm attending U.A., I have to leave a good impression."

"Screw good impressions, you could have died, or turned into a demon, or worse!" He paused to heave in a long breath. Yushiro had to be calm for (Y/n), he had to be strong for her. "Besides all the wisteria poisoning I made you ingest, how did you fend off Kibutsuji? Your body was already weak to begin with and I was told you got sick frequently."

A man with burgundy hair, deep serene eyes, and a gentle smile. (Y/n) sipped her tea in thought, mulling over the sound of his voice and his gentle touch as he guided her through the darkness. It was hard to tell what he looked like. The most she saw was the outline of his kimono and the way his steps seemed to break through the dark.

"Do not be afraid," he had said. "You are not alone."

A frown planted itself onto (Y/n)'s face. She vaguely remembered what happened after, but it was too much of a blur to recall. Too much of a burden to remember. "Someone helped me, I can't remember who. He taught me how to fight with Sun breathing. Tanjiro taught me the First Form a while ago, but it was extremely difficult, so I never got past that point."

Yushiro raised a brow but didn't push the topic further. He sensed the change in atmosphere, the fear coursing like electricity. "On another note," he poured more tea into his cup, "you're moving in with me. U.A. is about a forty minute walk, so your brother and I thought it best for you to stay here. We already moved all your belongings here."

A long, tense silence stretched over the expanse of the room. The hot tea, so soothing and fragrant was suddenly cold and hard to swallow.

Moving in? (Y/n) just woke up. She had so much to do back at home, so much to investigate, so much to pry open with her own two hands. Were Kai and Hari trying to get rid of her because she was being a nuisance? Sure, it was convenient for her new life at school, but still. (Y/n) wished she had been asked.

"Oh...okay." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Thank you, Oji-san."

Yushiro's brows knitted in bewilderment and he meditated on a thought (surprisingly). "Your brother and that Hari boy visited you every other day. They're both extremely pathetic humans, crying and sniveling like idiots." He paused, expression hard. "I think they needed a wake up call. Whatever they did to you can't be forgiven easily."

The frown on (Y/n)'s lips deepened. "What do you mean?" Yushiro stood, the sink squeaking as he turned it on. He began to wash some rice, swirling it around and allowing the dirty water to run into the sink. "Your brother is a Yakuza boss and Hari is his right hand man. Whatever organised crime they're involved in, it's not something you agree with, isn't it?"

Yushiro continued washing the rice, hands digging into the murky water over and over. "To make matters worse, they're both stupid and aren't considerate of your feelings. I heard them talk about something. They don't want you to know about it, though."

"...they care." (Y/n) spoke so softly that Yushiro would have missed it if he weren't a demon. He paused, shutting off the sink and dumping out the last of the murky water. When that Hari kid visited, he wasted no time in explaining what Kai had told him about an argument in the car.

It left Yushiro's blood boiling. "(Y/n)," --he turned to face her-- "he called you worthless."

"He didn't...he didn't mean it." The words were like bugs that crawled from her throat. They were wrong, so utterly terribly wrong, yet (Y/n) couldn't stop. "Nii-chan has been stressed out lately, and so has Hari. I should have been more mature."

A loud high-pitched 'CRASH!' made (Y/n) flinch (Chachamaru flew a good two feet into the air). Yushiro slammed the rice pot down on the counter, fangs gleaming in the sunlight as he heaved. "Listen to yourself!" he shouted. "'More mature', 'he didn't mean it'? (Y/n), why aren't you angry? Why aren't you furious?!"

He waited for an answer. Patiently. Quietly.

"I..." (Y/n) was too empty to cry. Too empty to feel anything but the bottomless pit of ice in her soul. "I don't know."

Yushiro stalked over to her, gripping the back of a chair between his claws. "Yes, you do!" he cried. "This was the family you wished to see for the past four years! Your memories of them helped keep your mind strong and now that you have them back, what has happened?" He reached across the table and gave her shoulder a firm squeeze. "Be honest with yourself. You know the truth, why can't you say it?"

There was nothing to say. How could there be when Yushiro seemed to know all the answers (Y/n) didn't? He knew she lied to herself, knew there was a reason beyond it, yet none of the crossed her mind (she wouldn't allow it).

Yushiro spoke softly, barely above a whisper. "Are you scared, (Y/n)?"

Scared? Hashira did not fear, did not lose their cool, did not act allow themselves to crumble. Hashira were strong, and so was (Y/n). She shook her head, gaze never quite rising or falling. "I'm," she swallowed the crack in her voice, "I'm not 'scared', Oji-san. I'm just--I'm tired. I don't want to talk about it. I start school soon. I have to prepare."

A sigh left Yushiro's lips and he nodded, releasing his hold. "Alright. Lunch will be done in about an hour. You can practice your work here if you want. I can help you." (Y/n) took a long swig of tea, brows knitted. "You never went to school."

"Yes, I did," Yushiro grumbled with a roll of his eyes. "I got my M.D. and am officially registered as a doctor."

Yet he didn't have a proper job? (Y/n) tilted her head to the side. "You're an indie painter and unemployed. How did you pay for that?"

"I went to school in nineteen thirty. I do have a life, you know." (Y/n) knitted her brows together and looked down at Chachamaru, who could only shake his head. "Wasn't that when the Second World War began? Where were you during all that?" Yushiro sucked his teeth and waved around a wooden spoon in dismiss. "Go do your homework! You said you have two weeks, right? Go, go!"

Well, it wasn't 'homework' per-se, but (Y/n) didn't have the energy to refute.

Two weeks passed without incident and (Y/n) found herself feeling right at home with Yushiro. It was the same as when she used to visit Tamayo-oba's house back when she was...well...alive. Now it was just her, Yushiro, and Chachamaru the demon cat. Neither of them burned up when touched by the sun, which must have been created with the blue spider lily.

Thankfully, Kibutsuji hadn't made any new moves. He remained in a deep slumber, trapped in the depths of (Y/n)'s mind. Sometimes he whispered a few words, nothing but harmless wishes and wants he would never receive. It was becoming the new norm, the new beginning of a new horizon.

Until the first day of school arrived.

Sakura petals fluttered across the luscious green yard, staining all plants in a sea of pink. (Y/n) adjusted the two clips in her hair, brushing stray locks away from her face. "I hope I didn't forget anything," she said with a sigh. Yushiro folded his arms across his chest, eyeing her up and down. He paused and adjusted the two hair clips--both of which (Y/n) just fixed.

Chachamaru scurried around the sakura petals. He swallowed a few and spat one out of his mouth before climbing into (Y/n)'s arms. She looked at Yushiro, who muttered under his breath and fussed about her appearance. "It was uneven," he said. "Your hair clips and your tie. Now look here."

(Y/n) turned, brows raised as a small click hit her ears. Yushiro tapped his phone with a nod and slipped it into his pocket. A small frown of embarrassment rose to (Y/n)'s lips. "Why did you take a photo? I look ugly." Especially since she just woke up half an hour ago (the thought of school completely slipped her mind).

Yushiro's expression was soft as he put his phone away. He recalled the darker nights, ones where death and danger were all that anyone lived through. Today was different. The sun shined brightly over the horizon, the skies clear of any clouds with rich pinks and oranges painting the blue.

"I never thought you'd go to school," --Yushiro's watery eyes shone in the light of dawn-- "even if it's a hero school that you don't even want to go to, Tamayo-sama would be very happy for you. She wanted to see you live a normal life and so do I."

A pit formed in (Y/n)'s stomach. She stood very still, awkwardly rubbing her soles into the grass. "I never thought I'd go to school again either. I'll be honest," she grimaced, "the thought makes me a little concerned. I was trained to fight and now I don't know what it means to be 'normal'. It feels off-putting." Yushiro blinked back some tears with a cough. "Well...get used to it. I'm happy for you."

"You're crying Oji-san."

"I am not!" he exclaimed, lightly smacking her shoulder. "Do your best at school, I'm sure you'll be fine. Academics are not your strong point, but you are okay enough to be average." (Y/n) felt her lips quirk into a minuscule smile. It was enough to make Yushiro pause and heave back a sob. He bit his lip and took Chachamaru into his arms. "Just go already!" He began to openly sob. "You'll be late if you don't hurry up!"

A genuine smile rose to (Y/n)'s lips. She threw her arms around Yushiro and he lightly patted her back. "Bye Oji-san, I'll see you later." He sniffled and let go, motioning for her to go. "Alright, alright. Get back home safely!"

The rising sun, the birds chirping in the trees. Nothing could been more awkwardly peaceful than today. What gave (Y/n) the right to something as simple as normal? No matter how happy Yushiro was for her, she couldn't share the same sentiment. Not after that argument with Kai. Not after turning her back to Hari. Not after leaving Oyaji and Eri.

It wasn't fair. But what was considered fair in a world of imbalance?

A beeping caught (Y/n)'s ear. She sighed and turned on her phone. Two messages sat on her screen.

Kai:
Good luck at school. Don't forget to eat and drink water.

Hari (bestie):
Have fun today! I hope you make some new friends.

(Y/n) heaved out a short huff and shut off her phone. Before she could put it away, it began to ring. Great, just great. "Hello?" she monotonously inquired. A chirp on the other side made her pause. "Did'ja wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Little Birdy?"

(Y/n) felt herself smile again for the second time today. "Hawks?"

"The one and only." He laughed and it made her heart swell. "Are you excited for your first day of school?"

(Y/n) shook her head with a short sigh. "No, of course not. I haven't been to school in almost five years. I studied a lot to catch up, but it's probably not enough."

As the top school for heroes, U.A.'s curriculum was rigorous. A single missed day could mean a mountain of work that took a week to catch up to. Everything was fast-passed, close to the difficulty of University courses. What made anyone believe for even a second she stood a chance? Kai made it crystal clear he had little faith in her.

So why should (Y/n) believe she was good enough for such a prestigious school?

"I'm sure you'll do okay," Hawks reassured. "From what I know, you pick things up pretty quickly and know how to adapt. Worst case scenario, copy your classmates. I'm not encouraging cheating, but if it's a last resort, it can't be helped, right?"

(Y/n) pursed her lips and bit back another sigh. "When put that way, perhaps."

"Don't sweat it!" Hawks sounded so genuine that (Y/n) couldn't refute. She adjusted the straps of her (f/c) school bag. It was irritatingly cute and exactly to her tastes, which would have been great if she wasn't informed that Kai bought it while she was asleep. (Y/n) hated how he knew her so well. It got on her nerves.

"That reminds me," Hawks shuffled a stack of papers on the other end, "remember the annoying twins? His boss convinced my boss to sneak him a job, so he'll be one of your teachers."

A frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips. "Who is this man and what does he have to do with me? You never said."

"Because it's not something you need to know yet." Hawks stated. He pursed his lips tight, swallowing hard. "Besides, your first day of school is today. It's not a bad thing to enjoy your teenage years."

Gosh, what was with everyone and telling her to enjoy today as if it were some sort of milestone in the defeat of Kibutsuji? (Y/n) stared at the ground, expression falling. "I'll try, but there will be no promises."

"I didn't think so," Hawks said. "I heard you were asleep for a while. What happened?"

(Y/n) kicked a rock disinterestedly. "Stuff. Demons. The usual."

"I hope you feel better soon." There was a rawness to Hawks's voice, a tenderness that made (Y/n) pause in her step. He sounded so serious, as if he knew exactly what had happened in her time in bed. Who even told him she was asleep for so long? It wasn't like he texted her in a while, so he wouldn't have been the wiser.

(Y/n) sucked in a sharp breath, eyes illuminating dangerously in the rising sun's glare. It felt hot against her skin, searing.

"Were you ordered not to tell me anything?" Ice coated (Y/n)'s voice, a knife she couldn't retract. It was like a blizzard overtaking the springtime, frosting greenery into nothing but a wasteland of cold, unforgiving white. "First it's Hari who's supposed to be my friend and then it's Kai who says I'm worthless and I'm stupid. They don't tell me anything because I'm 'only fifteen', and then--then they lie to me and..."

And say that nothing in the world mattered and that (Y/n) was only a spec in this grand Universe of galaxies. Nothing stopped no matter how badly someone grieved, and nothing could be changed because that was just how life went. It was sad and it was lonely and it was cruel because that was just how life was.

"You're doing the same to me, Hawks!" (Y/n) clenched a fist hard, eyes burning. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to cry. "I don't want him to be right!"

Hawks swallowed. "Your brother?"

(Y/n) shook her head even though he couldn't see. "No, not him," she clutched the phone tightly between her trembling fingertips, "Kibutsuji. I don't want him to be right!" Because that would mean she needed his hand. That thin, bony hand with skin paler than moonlight. He offered to be her sword, her shield, in this time of difficulty.

But allowing control to the Demon King spelled the end of the world. The end of a new beginning. (Y/n) thought of Yushiro who cried only twenty or so minutes ago, and Chachamaru who meowed in his arms. Tamayo-oba would have wanted to see her happy today. Youthful like those of her age.

Was such a thing possible?

(Y/n) clenched her teeth tight enough to crack a tooth. "I don't want him to be right," she seethed. "Hawks, I..."

I'm scared.

"...I don't want it to happen again." The deaths of her friends, the near annihilation of the Demon Slayer Corps, the fires, the destruction. All of it would repeat if she allowed that beast to take control of her body. Fear ate away at her mind, an emotion she silently vowed not to feel despite the tremble of her hands, but could she hold on? Resist even when her facade crumbled?

It seemed like everyone knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

"The reason I was asleep for months was because Kibutsuji was trying to take over my body. He wants to kill me so I can be his vessel and he will do anything to achieve that. I bet you already know that though, don't you? You're a rat for the HPSC--just another pawn in their little game." She paused, a cruel chuckle bursting from her lips. "Kibutsuji knows, Hawks! He knows I am not strong enough to defeat him and because I won't give up, he's trying to make a deal with me."

On the other end, Hawks's breath caught in his throat. He clutched the stack of papers between his arms, eyes wide and alert. "A deal?"

"Hawks," --(Y/n)'s nails drew blood from her palm-- "what do you know about Kibutsuji?"

"What deal are you talking about?"

(Y/n) felt the breath leave her lungs, the anger seep into her veins like the rush of blood dripping down her hand. "Hawks." There was something unfamiliar in her voice, something cold and unforgiving. "Answer me!"

As Hawks stood stiff as a board, a shiver ran down his spine. The sweat on his palms, the creeping edge of fear in his heart--this was the presence of a Hashira. A top-tier warrior of the Demon Slayer Corps. He swallowed his fears. This was not the time to feel such weakness.

Deal. Deal. Deal. Why was the world built on deals? Negotiations? False handshakes and smiles that led to nothing but trouble and heartache? He heaved in a deep breath. It was time to brave this winter overtaking the spring. "(Y/n)," Hawks was trying hard not to lose his cool, "what did Kibutsuji tell you?"

The sun burned against (Y/n)'s skin. "He told me that everyone is lying to me and that he would help me, okay?!" She hated the sound of her voice so scratchy and raw. "Now answer me! What do you know about him? Why won't you tell me anything?!" It was silent for a long, hard minute with nothing but the mocking tweet of birds and the occasional passing of a car.

Hawks heaved in a short breath and sighed out another. "I'll arrange for you to meet one of your teachers today."

A compromise? Was that the best Hawks could offer?

"Actually, forget I said anything."

Was he being serious?

"I have to leave now, there's trouble downtown again." Hawks sounded sad, painfully calm for someone who couldn't quite keep his rapid pulse under control.

(Y/n) pursed her lips tight and chewed on her lip. It was easy to sense his worries on the other end of the phone, easy to feel his own anger.

"Normally I'd give you a straight answer, but there are a bunch'a eyes on my back. I'm sorry (Y/n). It's not right of me to ask, but can you bear with me? Just a little longer? I'll text you in a few hours."

"Hawks--!"

"Good luck today!" He forced himself to sound happy, forced himself to be reassuring. "If you find yourself feeling awkward, pretend you're talking to someone you know. I'm sure you'll do fine today, alright?" (Y/n) opened her mouth to speak, but before the words could tumble past her trembling lips, the line went dead. She stared at the white screen of contacts where a pair of hard golden eyes stared back at her.

Why? Why did this keep happening to her? Secrets, whispers, things she couldn't comprehend. What was wrong with everyone?

The screen locked. Across the black surface, (Y/n)'s face kept staring back. She never looked so dead. So far from the brave girl she once was.

What was wrong with her?

---

The line went dead and Hawks sighed to himself. He gripped the phone between his clenched fist, teeth gritted tight enough to break his jaw. "There," --he carelessly slapped the papers on the desk-- "are you happy now? If you wanted me to call her, you should have let me do it in private."

The woman at the desk stayed as stony and cold as a statue. She sighed dismissively, as if Hawks were nothing more than a mere child. "We needed to assess the situation ourselves without contact." A few of her advisors nodded in agreement and jotted notes into their books.

Hawks thought he'd crack his phone's screen if he held it any tighter. "You told me I wasn't allowed to tell her anything. I followed your rules. I won't be the one to tell her, her teacher will." It was a risky move, one that made every person in this room bore holes into his back, but it was okay. Hawks could take the backlash, the consequences.

For (Y/n). For her future she thought she'd never see.

"You disobeyed my orders," the president stated. "The child isn't supposed to know anything and you hinted that you knew something." Hawks couldn't stop the anger leaking into his perfect facade, a fire that lit his sharp eyes red. "(Y/n) could have died."

"Could have." The President spoke flatly, firmly. "Her knowledge of Kibutsuji will stay limited for all our sakes. Everything she knows he will know as well, and that will put everyone in danger. What makes you believe she can win against the Progenitor himself? They share the same mind and her mental state is weak. Chisaki (Y/n) will lose."

The same mind? What the hell did that mean? Hawks dared to take a step closer to the desk. He was never disobedient, never a branch of issues that poisoned the tree. Why couldn't the President let this one thing slide? Isolating (Y/n) from problems that grew inside would only push her further into the dark. She didn't know who to trust, who else to turn to.

And for that reason, she felt alone.

"You don't understand," Hawks muttered. "Ignoring (Y/n)'s needs will be her defeat."

The President raised a brow, eyes rock hard. Her mind was a mountain, a fortress that refused to bend to anyone's will. She wouldn't change her mind. Not as long as she sat high on her throne. "Don't be hasty, I'll contact Oyakata-sama and inform him on the situation. Until I hear back, you will have zero dealings with the Tsugikuni brothers. Dismissed."

Hawks bowed and turned on his heel. He made sure to slam the doors on his way out. Knowing the Board, they were all too far ahead of themselves to realise the true gravity of Kibutsuji's influence. While they took their time with meetings and long conversations on their next course of action, Chisaki (Y/n) suffered a burden greater than her shoulders could carry.

"He told me that everyone is lying to me and that he would help me, okay?! Now answer me! What do you know about him? Why won't you tell me anything?!"

The skyline stretched as far as the eye could see. On the rooftops of the headquarters, Hawks still felt tethered. Caged. No matter how high he reached towards the skies, he was forever a puppet of the people he most despised. A pair of footsteps caught his ear, a steady rhythm of geta going 'tap, tap, tap'.

Hawks knew who it was before he turned around. "Oyakata-sama." He bowed respectfully. "The President just said she was going to speak with you." The man smiled, a serene quirk of his lips that made the warm winds settle to soft breezes. His mere presence calmed the aching rush of anger in Hawks's veins.

"Thank you for defending (Y/n)." Ubuyashiki said. "She is a strong child, but has no cease to her limits. I am sure you already know that she will not give up easily." Hawks leaned against the railing with a nod. He didn't know what to say, and thankfully, he didn't need to.

"What bothers you?"

Hawks averted his gaze to the side with a frown. He wasn't keen on reminding himself of his own screw-ups. "I made (Y/n) cry. Something else made her snap, but it's still my fault. I couldn't go against the President when I should've."

The serene smile on Ubuyashiki's face refused to fade. He placed a hand on the railing, gaze soft like the warm breeze. "You had (Y/n)'s best interests at heart. She may not know it now, but I am sure she will understand in time." He paused to meet Hawks's uncertain eyes. "I will inform Tsugikuni Yoriichi to meet with (Y/n) today. It will be our secret, Keigo."

Hawks's eyes widened. How did this man know his name?

"During the Taisho Era, (Y/n) was one of our strongest Hashira. She made demons tremble at the sound of her name and brought each of her foes to their knees." Ubuyashiki watched the clouds lazily pass overhead. Funny how it still looked the same as those days cooped up by his estate's engawa. "In that ruthlessness was a kindness."

Ruthlessness? The thought was hard to believe. No matter how sharp (Y/n)'s gaze was, or how dangerous her aura could be, he never saw her as someone with little mercy.

"(Y/n) is a wonderful child who is kind and empathetic," Ubuyashiki added. "Yet like the winter, she is fickle and unforgiving. Ice coats her heart, and no matter how beautiful, it is dangerous. I can only hope (Y/n) remembers the sun before the moon."

Hawks stared at his hands clenching the railing in an iron grip. He eased the tension in each fingertip, heart heavy and hollow. He wasn't one to hate himself, but he did feel regret. Maybe this weight was how (Y/n) felt, overwhelmed with the guilt of her existence.

---

U.A. was everything (Y/n) expected. In the light of the morning sun, its excessively large logo shone so brightly it threatened to blind people (and cause car accidents). Each window and wall seemed to sparkle divinely, where the building formed a letter 'H' for hero.

(Y/n) could probably count on her fingers how many people actually held the essence of a true hero. They were over-saturated in this plastic society, where the media dominated and publicity was king. What else was there to expect?

Mumbles and loud murmurs filled the crowds of students. (Y/n) entered through the front doors, ignoring the stares and whispers. Why indulge in petty drama? She had better uses for her time.

For those children who worked their whole lives to get here, (Y/n) worked none. As a recommended student (by Hawks himself), she had been set the moment he convinced the school to take her in. How Hawks did it when he knew little to nothing about her abilities, she didn't know. Not like it mattered, it was done and over with. None of her concern.

Unlike the eyes following (Y/n)'s back. It was starting to get on her nerves just a tinsy bit. She placed a hand to the strap of her bag, a small comfort to ease the brewing anxieties in her chest. Why did her heart beat so rapidly? These were school kids, nothing compared to the Hashira who could literally kill anyone they looked at (Sanemi).

Or the Demon King settling in the back of her mind.

So why did sweat form on the palms of (Y/n)'s hands? Why did her pulse beat as if she were going into cardiac arrest? (Y/n) pulled out her folded schedule and sank her face into it, fiddling with the creases. Class 1-A. She eyed the labels stuck over the large doors (no doubt for those with Quirks on the extreme).

"A deal?"

"Hawks," --(Y/n)'s nails drew blood from her palm-- "what do you know about Kibutsuji?"

"What deal are you talking about?"

(Y/n) shook her head to clear her mind. School--that was to be her new primary focus.

When (Y/n) found her classroom, she thought she might be sick. Maybe a part of her worried she'd pass out from Kibutsuji's random impulses to control her body, or maybe she was worried about being stuck in a classroom where she knew little to nothing. Or maybe...maybe...

"Hawks." There was something unfamiliar in her voice, something cold and unforgiving. "Answer me!"

(Y/n) hated her voice sometimes. It reminded her of her brother with how commanding it was. She sighed. Now was not the time, she had to focus.

The empty hallways seemed so vast. They could go on forever and ever, like the thoughts that filled (Y/n)'s mind. What did Kai say about the first day of school? It didn't matter what people thought of you because they were all idiots? Yeah, that was it. And Hari also said that in the end, no one remembers anything from their high school years anyway.

Oh, but what did those two care? (Y/n) folded the schedule into her pocket and slapped herself across the face. She wasn't going to think about them, or Hawks, or the fact that everyone fancied secrets. Not now when her mood was already as sour as it was.

The hallways were empty. No one was watching. In this single moment of silence, this single moment of solitary loneliness, (Y/n) allowed herself to be vulnerable. Real. It was okay to be a little worried about school, right? This wasn't something that determined the fate of the world (just hers), or the lives of her comrades (just her own legal safety).

Kyojurou would understand completely! He taught (Y/n) that new situations were things that could be tackled with confidence and self-assurance. In times where no one knew what to do, it was best to just do what you always did. Don't change anything, because that could lead to panic.

Right. Don't panic.

(Y/n) slid open the door. She half-expected everyone to be absorbed in books and school supplies. Maybe some kids were busy with essays for other institutions, or working on internship brag sheets to get first dibs on the best agencies.

Wrong. Incorrect. Stupid.

The classroom was loud. Some students sat on desks while others stood in little cliques (childhood friends or acquaintances?). One blond kid had his feet ever so rudely propped up on his desk while a navy-haired kid with glasses scolded him. Apparently, he was from Soumei, one of those private academies for rich kids. It set off the blond kid, who threatened to...well...'end' him.

Then everyone in the classroom noticed (Y/n)'s presence. They all took a moment to take her in, then they turned to each other, as if to confirm her existence.

What?

What?

What?

(Y/n) started sweating profusely, lips pressed into a thin line. Her peers must have seen a different person because they erupted in loud whispers she most definitely heard. They couldn't be talking about her, right? No, that was stupid. There was no one else in the doorway but her.

"That's the girl that fell out of the sky!"

"Wow, she looks scary!"

The children of 1-A seemed to either shrink back in fear or revere (Y/n) as some sort of divine goddess.

"The one who was missing for like, four years, right?"

"Yeah, I heard her dad's a Yakuza!"

"No way, that's rad."

Whatever 'rad' meant anyway. (Y/n) didn't know, nor did she care as she wobbled over to her seat. She didn't actually wobble, but it most certainly felt like it when her vision threatened to black out. Why was she getting so ahead of herself? This was just school, not those worries looming over her mind like smog in a big city.

(Y/n) took a seat at a desk in the back of the room. It was in a row by itself, and she knew full well why. U.A. had a set admittance number for students every single year. She was an extra, an addition to 1-A that likely shouldn't have existed.

An angry presence cut through the chatter. That blond boy who had his feet up on the desk stalked over, hands dug deep into his pockets. "Oi, you," he growled. "Extra, what's your name?"

Extra? All thoughts sending (Y/n)'s mind for a loop dissipated. She stared up at the boy, brows knitted in distant irritation. Who did this little first year think he was calling her 'you' and 'extra'? There was no amusement on (Y/n)'s face as she locked gazes, eyes dark and luminous as the full moon at night. "The least you could say is 'excuse me'. Introduce yourself before asking that of others."

The boy let out a loud 'HAAAH?!', as if he didn't hear (Y/n)'s clipped voice. "It would do you good to open your ears," --she wasn't in the mood for games, her patience had long died for the day-- "instead of that foul mouth of yours."

"Damn," said the red-haired kid. "Savage."

Someone said something loud in the background, probably the homeroom teacher, but it fell upon deaf ears.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" The boy clenched a fist and bared his teeth like some rabid dog. "I'll crush you, bitch!" (Y/n)'s expression darkened and the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. She wasn't one to pick fights, but that didn't mean she wasn't afraid to start one.

This was just a school.

"What did you say?"

This was just school.

(Y/n) stood. "I dare you to call me that again."

Just school.

"I believe we're supposed to be a class of future Heroes, are we not?" She gripped the edge of her desk so tightly the vinyl cracked. "Calling people names is quite a shameful display, don't you agree?"

Just school, just school, just school, (Y/n). Calm down, calm down, he's just a kid and you're a whole dang Hashira who could kill him before anyone could so much as blink, so don't be stupid and sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down--

(Y/n) heaved in a sigh and slid into her seat, gaze never once straying from the terror slowly rising into the boy's red eyes (red like blood). "What's your name?" The ice in her voice made the class collectively shiver.

"Bakugou Katsuki."

(Y/n) folded her hands on the desk, forcing her face to relax as she repaired the desk. She was scaring the boy and her classmates. If Hawks were here, he would be disappointed (not like that mattered). "Chisaki (Y/n), please take care of me." There was not an ounce of sincerity in her voice.

All Bakugou could do was swallow thickly. "You're damn crazy," he grumbled under his breath. "Please take care of me my ass."

It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop as Bakugou did the walk of shame back to his seat. Some eyes lingered on his back while others strayed to take minuscule peeks at (Y/n)'s icy cold expression.

A loud slurping sound broke the tension thicker than a block of butter. "So it took you less than a second to quiet down after Chisaki finished speaking, but a whole minute after I told you all to sit down?" A man in a bright yellow sleeping bag lay at the front of the room with a jelly pouch in one hand. He stood, stepping out of the ridiculously thick sleeping bag and tossing it by his desk. "I'm your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shota. It's nice to meet you all."

Shouts of 'homeroom teacher?!' echoed throughout the classroom.

(Y/n) pursed her lips together. Aizawa Shota, otherwise known as the underground hero, Eraserhead was a harsh teacher that gave little to no mercy on his students. Whether it was out of tough love or plain sadism remained a mystery, one she hoped would soon be answered.

If (Y/n) knew he were here, she would have made a larger effort to stop her patience from thinning. But noooo, she just had to let herself lose control and leave a dent on her goody-two-shoes reputation. Great. Wonderful. Amazing.

Aizawa spoke of a few other things about skipping orientation ('This is a Hero course, not some random high school,' he said) because he, as a U.A. teacher had the freedom to do so. Then he told everyone to change into their gym uniforms and meet him on the field.

If Mitsuri were here, (Y/n) were sure she would enjoy the lack of professionalism.

A Quirk Apprehension test was the first assignment of the day. As Aizawa explained the rules, (Y/n) felt herself losing interest. This was no more than child's play, a mere 'test' that her peers called 'fun' and 'nostalgic' to their elementary days.

Softball pitch, standing long jump, fifty meter dash, endurance running, blah, blah, blah. Quirks were allowed, unlike in elementary. (Y/n) vaguely remembered doing some of those activities in P.E. back in the fifth grade. It was a bit hazy, a bit of a blur she couldn't quite recall, but thankfully, Bakugou (the little fishmonger) was called to come up first.

"Don't hold back." Aizawa stated.

Bakugou stretched out his dominant arm with a fiery look in his eyes. "You got it." He reared back, and with an interesting addition of 'DIE!' the ball soared into the air with a bright explosion. Aizawa held up a device, where 705.7 flashed on screen. "This is a rational metric that will form the basis of your 'Hero Foundation'."

An 'awesome, that looks fun' rang out and a group of students chattered away in agreement. (Y/n) sighed to herself. She didn't need to see the exasperated look on Aizawa's dead face to know he had little tolerance for dilly-dallying. He was going to lecture them, wasn't he?

Aizawa scanned the faces of each student and lo-and-behold. "So you were planning to spend your three years here having a good time? Alright, then." The class tensed in fear. "In that case, new rule: The student who ranks last in total points will be ranked hopeless and instantly expelled."

Instantly expelled, eh? Either this was a trick to make (Y/n)'s peers try harder or a use of his freedom to teach however the heck he wanted. (Y/n) refused to stress over either option. She didn't need to worry about falling behind when these kids were merely that--kids.

For extra measure, a humourless grin broke out onto Aizawa's face. "Our 'freedom' allows us to dispense of students as we please." He pulled back some of his greasy hair like a high-end runway model. "Welcome to the Department of Heroics!"

It seemed the Heroics Department weren't just filled with children, but eccentrics. Eccentrics who liked to scare said children. What fun, Sanemi would enjoy this to his heart's content.

"If you were counting on a friendly chat at the local McDonald's after school, that's too bad." Aizawa didn't seem to stop talking. "From now on, for the next three years, all you can expect from your life at U.A. is one hardship after the next. This is 'plus ultra'! I expect you to overcome these trials and climb to the top."

The first test was fifty meter dash. (Y/n) decided not to overdo it and ran at a normal pace. She landed a score of five seconds. Whatever other trials there were, she averaged out in the middle, neither the best nor the worst. As long as she didn't fail, there would be no consequence. No 'hardship' to face as Aizawa promised.

And if not for the annoyingly sharp gaze busting into (Y/n)'s back, she would have been unbothered and indifferent. Somewhere in those dead-fish eyes, Aizawa saw the wasted potential she left to her classmates. He took note of the drag in her feet and the way she slowed down at the last second to let someone else pass her. His keen eyes were well trained with experience, an experience (Y/n) saw with her own.

Damn Aizawa and his perceptiveness. He wasn't a Pro for nothing.

"Do you even want to become a hero?"

(Y/n) paused, grip slackening on the ball. She was on trial five: The Pitch. All she had to do was throw it to see how far it would go. Easy, save for Aizawa who just had to ruin it with his questions. Each step he took was a moment wasted to this nonsense challenge. A trivial 'test'.

For some, it was a way to see the limits of Quirks and abilities, but to (Y/n), it was nothing but a waste of her time.

In those dead fish eyes were dozens of daggers directed at the side of (Y/n)'s face. She turned to meet Aizawa's gaze, expression equally still. "What do you mean?" His gaze narrowed, brows knitting. "Normally, I'd write students who pick fights to the Principal, but I let it slide since it's the first day. I can't expect everyone to get along. But if you plan to cruise through U.A., I can have you out of the front doors by the end of this period. You're putting a bad name out for a recommended student, Chisaki."

(Y/n)'s nose twitched, that icy calm steadily melting into irritation. She sucked her teeth and sighed tiredly. As much as it pained her to admit, Aizawa had a point. Scoring averagely on something as simple as an aptitude test would be bad for Hawks's reputation--not like she cared. Not after he refused to tell her important information that could mean either life or death.

Still. It would disappoint Hawks and make his life harder if (Y/n) didn't stay in U.A. Then that would truly spell game over to a life of servitude to one of the most corrupt agencies in all of Japan. A short, frustrated breath fell past (Y/n)'s lips. Fine. She could try just a little harder, but not because she didn't want to tarnish Hawks's good reputation. It was just so she didn't end up in juvenile for killing a couple people.

Nope, not at all.

(Y/n) gripped the ball tightly between her fingertips. She imagined it as a source of her anger, her frustrations, and the screams that died in her throat with the rising sun. She wound up her good arm and breathed. Once. Twice. Three times.

The soil cracked around her feet, threatening to dig a crater into the dry ground. (Y/n) let go. The ball soared like a spear ready to hit its mark. It was nothing but a blur, a mere spec of light that broke through the sound barrier. A strong gust of wind flattened the class to the ground, threatening to send any unprepared students flat on their faces.

The device in Aizawa's hand beeped. He hauled himself up off the ground and dusted his trousers. "Eight thousand forty-six meters." (Y/n) wasn't sure if that was good or not. Was it a lot? A little? How many kilometers did that equal to?

A red haired boy jumped to his feet, running a hand over his spiked hair. "Did you see how fast the ball went?! That's as impressive as infinity girl's! How manly!" He spoke in regards to the girl with the bright smile, who made the ball weightless to fly forever.

(Y/n) sent Aizawa an awkward look. "Was that...okay?"

There was a certain mirth without amusement, a certain glare in his dark eyes. Approved. No words, just a simple nod and a calling for the next student. (Y/n) ignored the admiring looks of her nervous classmates, ignored the small way her heart skipped a beat. Was this some sort of...fulfillment? Appreciation?

How stupid. Approval by her elders meant nothing. It wasn't the same as Kyojurou, who smiled so warmly and ruffled (Y/n)'s hair with pride. 'That was great!', he would say. 'Let's try again, but this time, pretend I'm your enemy. Come at me with the intent to kill.'

Yeah, Hero training was much different from being a Hashira's Tsuguko.

A boy with green hair and wobbly knees made his way up to the pitch. He threw the ball and Aizawa erased his Quirk, those dead eyes flashing bright red (why was everyone's eyes red in this day and age?). He pulled the poor kid in with his scarf (?) and lectured him about how his Quirk was practically useless when it made every bone in his body break.

But that wasn't what caught (Y/n)'s attention. No, not the biting words or the tremble in the boy's hands. In his fear was determination. A shining light that broke past everything he knew he couldn't do. It was different from those of the Hashira, or the Slayers (Y/n) fought alongside.

This was...innocent. Hopeful like those waiting to watch the sun rise on New Years day, like those waiting for another dawn.

The boy, 'Midoriya', began at the pitch again. He wound back his arm, called upon his power, and thrust the ball into the sky. The record was nothing special. It placed last, yet with that burning will in his teary eyes and the firm way he forced his broken finger to close into a fist, there was no denying it.

This boy was built different.

Bakugou suddenly burst into a violent fit of shouts. He blasted his way over (literally), with fury flaming across his snarl. "What is this, Deku?! Explain you shithead!" There wasn't much to explain, not when Aizawa Erased his Quirk and trapped him in that special scarf.

All previous interest died within (Y/n)'s heart. She leaned against the baseball fence and pinched the bride of her nose with a sigh. The headaches were streamlining themselves to her head at top speed. "Idiots."

Aizawa didn't miss the exhaustion clouding (Y/n)'s face.

At the end of the test, no one was expelled. Apparently, it was only a test, one which left 1-A gasping for relief. That wasn't much of a surprise to (Y/n). Why expel a whole class after weeding them from the rest of a couple thousand applicants? It would be a waste of time and money.

The rest of the day continued fairly quickly with only the handouts of syllabus-es and introductions to new assignments. School was, in short, a drag. Why in the world did (Y/n) work her butt off for the admissions exam in her youth anyway? What a waste of time.

Lunch period hit like a slap to the face. (Y/n) stood from her desk and glanced at her schedule. After lunch in the cafe, Japanese Literature was the second to last class of the day. She hoped it would be interesting. There was enough literature stuffed in her head from all those days reading alongside Akaza. Making funny voices or joking around about the authors had been a favourite pass time.

Maybe it would be fun.

"Chisaki," called Ectoplasm. "Tsugikuni sensei has asked to meet with you during lunch. Here's a pass, go see him after you get your lunch. He said he'd like you to eat in his classroom." (Y/n) stared at the yellow slip of paper and bit back a sigh. She half-registered what her mathematics teacher had said (her brain was beyond fried after his class) and bowed in thanks.

The line went by quickly in the cafe. Lunch Rush, the, well, Lunch Hero, was thankfully great at his job. By the time (Y/n) had her lunch and found the classroom, only eight minutes had passed. She stared at the paper. It was silly, but a part of her wondered if she had heard Ectoplasm wrong.

Why would a teacher want to have lunch with her? It was only the first day of school and (Y/n) was sure she didn't know anybody here but herself. And this Tsugikuni Sensei guy, where had she heard that name before?

The classroom door suddenly slid open. A tall man smiled a smile that was kind like spring, warm like summer. Long, burgundy hair trailed behind in in a ponytail, where kimono red as dawn fluttered along with his quiet steps. This presence so firm and strong, commanding yet peaceful, was not ordinary.

(Y/n) knew before their eyes locked, before she breathed a word, that this man was like her--inside and out. A hissing in the back of her mind erupted into tandem. Fear coursed into her veins and she trembled at the sight of the man before her. Kibutsuji awoke. After slumbering in her body for weeks, he finally opened that foul mouth of his.

"Run!" he screeched. "Run you damned fool!"

The smile on Tsugikuni's face fell into one of question. He looked straight through (Y/n), as if he could see into her insides (which he probably could). "I wished it weren't true." His calming voice was so sweet it could have made even the toughest men cry. "Let us sit down and talk for a while. I am sure you have many questions."

"No! You stupid girl, run!"

Tsugikuni Yoriichi. Simply saying that name brought shivers down spines and made fellow Slayers sit closer to each other in anticipation. What was once a mere campfire story to entertain and boost morale was now reality. True before (Y/n)'s eyes.

"I saved your life!" Kibutsuji reasoned. "I can take it just as quickly! Listen to me now, Little Ice Hashira. Run!"

Relief flooded (Y/n)'s veins, washing away the cold fear with warmth. She entered the classroom and shut the door behind her. It didn't matter that Yoriichi's existence made little sense, or the fact that Kibutsuji just wouldn't shut up. Hope existed. Hope lived.

(Y/n) set down her lunch tray at an empty desk. "Was it you that helped me defeat Kibutsuji in my sleep?" Yoriichi pulled up a chair in front of the desk. He smiled and it was nothing short of reassuring. "Yes. As your ancestor, it was only natural. I am glad to finally meet you in person, (Y/n). There are a few things I would like to explain to you. I understand it has been a difficult time for you, but do not worry."

For the first time in a long time, (Y/n) thought she could finally believe those last three words. Do not worry. With this man in front of her, it was finally true.

Modern Era Secrets!

-Yoriichi was an instant hit at U.A. All his students love him (and the girls find him cute)
-Yoriichi thinks he is a bad teacher (do your best, it's only the first day!)
-Kibutsuji actually woke up before school started, but went back to sleep when the high school shenanigans began
-Yushiro sent the picture of (Y/n)'s 'first day of high school!' to Kai. He responded with a thumbs-up
-Aizawa tried doing some research on (Y/n) and came up with nothing. Her school and public profile are basic and brief.
-Hawks arranged for that. Now (Y/n)'s private info is safe!
-while fighting Kibutsuji, Yushiro had (Y/n) ingest/injected w/ near-lethal doses of wisteria poison. He's really glad she didn't die from it
-Yushiro refrains from calling (Y/n) stupid/idiotic/dumb because he knows she has low self esteem
-There are rumours in U.A. about where (Y/n) disappeared to (since it was on the news for some time). Some say she joined a gang and got cast out (hence why she fell out of the sky!)
-others claim she's the leader of the Hassaikai alongside her brother!

Chapter Text

'Don't kill me, just help me run away
From everyone, I need a place to stay
Where I can cover up my face
Don't cry, I am just a freak...'

Freaks, Surf Curse

The darkness was suffocating. It threatened to swallow (Y/n) whole as she heaved out a breath, seething through the last of her strength. The constant transitions from Ice and Flame left her body beaten and exhausted. It was only a matter of time before her knees gave in and she crumpled to the ground, dead.

"It's over." Kibutsuji cupped (Y/n)'s bloodied cheeks. "Give up, Ice Hashira."

The glow of his blood red eyes sent shivers down (Y/n)'s back. She heaved, oxygen filling her body with a burst of strength, a burst of will to fight. An arc of icy shards pierced the darkness and cut straight through Kibutsuji's arm. He remained still in place, grip tightening against her jaw.

"Your attacks are weakening again." The arm regenerated. "Tomorrow, this will only repeat again. Your Demon Slayer Mark does little to benefit your attacks and the only form from the Breath of Sun you can do is the first form." He tutted as if (Y/n) were nothing more than a wounded puppy. "You try too hard, it's almost admirable. Have you yet to consider my offer?"

The offer was tempting--so damn tempting--but (Y/n) was stronger than that. She didn't need power to find out what Kai and Hari hid from her, or power to feel like something when she was nothing. All that mattered was Kibutsuji's defeat, nothing more, nothing less. (Y/n) wouldn't live past her twenties anyway (the Demon Slayer Mark made sure of it). Whatever happened to her after was trivial as long as victory remained on the horizon.

"You are foolish." Kibutsuji bared his fangs, that perfectly perfect face of his contorting into a furious sneer. "Have I not given you a fair share of terms? Have I not offered benefit you? Admit your defeat!" He dug his nails into her skin. "You are exhausted! Tired!"

(Y/n) squeezed her eyes tight. It was true, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. Kibutsuji heard her thoughts, from the prays to end this madness, to a broken dream of resting in peace.

"I've heard you utter that over and over and over again, yet you keep standing. Let go!"

(Y/n) fell to her knees. No. No. No. She couldn't. Not when this man took the lives of everyone she loved. Not when this man tormented innocents for thousands of years. Not when--not when she was here to fight. To defend those who could not protect themselves.

"Let go!"

Kokoro wo moyase--set your heart ablaze. If this was the end, then at least (Y/n) could say she fought until her last breath.

"You are beaten!"

(Y/n)'s grip tightened around her katana.

"You are close to death!"

A breath. Once. Twice.

"You are weak!"

(Y/n) ripped herself from Kibutsuji's grip.

Breath of Ice: Tenth Form, Dance of Fire and Ice!

Flames burst from the tip of her gleaming katana, lighting the night in brilliant reds and oranges. (Y/n) brought her blade down. She slashed through skin and bone and raised it again, commanding the flames to cool into ice. She swung, aiming directly for the neck.

The katana stopped short. Kibutsuji caught it between his fist, blood trailing down his wrist. Veins protruded from his temples as he snarled and bared his fangs. "Are you deranged?" Every wound inflicted had already healed. "I am aware of your death wish, but this? How much do you hate yourself?"

(Y/n) let out a shout and forced her blade to slide through Kibutsuji's hand. Blood splattered across her face as she heaved, fighting the darkness threatening to overtake her vision. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so desperate, so hopeless and powerless. The Tenth Form was the strongest, one she created herself in a last ditch effort to defeat one of the Upper Moons. How had the damage done so little?

"You are at your breaking point." Kibutsuji's voice sounded far away. "Using the Breath of Sun earlier took a toll on your body. I will see you again tomorrow, Little Ice Hashira. Consider my offer before you truly lose everything." He vanished into the dark abyss, steps a mere echo against nonexistent walls.

A hand found (Y/n)'s arms. She didn't have the strength to pull away as a man took her katana from her trembling fingertips. He quickly wiped it down with a cloth and sheathed it. "You have been fighting for a while now." The voice was gentle like a spring breeze, warm like summer. "Thank you, (Y/n), for doing all you can."

She coughed and blood splattered on the dark ground. "Who," --she choked-- "who are you?" The man gently took (Y/n) into his arms. He sunk to the floor with her and rested her head against his lap. It was hard to see his face through the dark, save for the solemn way his eyes shone like a setting sun. "You have done well on your own."

"K-Kibutsuji...he is..."

"He will not come for a while. He fears me." The man unfolded a handkerchief and wiped away the blood from (Y/n)'s face. His touch was feather-light and gentle, as if he feared she would crumble to dust. "Rest. You will need your strength."

In the arms of this stranger came the first semblance of safety (Y/n) felt in the abyss. She cherished it, hoping that this ray of hope wouldn't leave her a step closer to death.

The next day was another of battle. Yoriichi stood beside (Y/n), hands over hers as he guided her katana through the abyss. She felt weak against his weight, against his looming strength that overshadowed her own. Being in his mere presence was enough to make her knees wobble.

"You're strong," (Y/n) said. "But I'm not sure that's enough." The man shook his head and guided (Y/n)'s stance to match his own. "I have faith in the future. Your generation nearly beat Kibutsuji." The man spoke too calmly, too serenely for him to be real. Maybe he was an illusion of an inner cry for help, or some saviour to keep her sane in this mad house.

Still, he had no idea what he was talking about.

A frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips. "My generation nearly died. The only two Hashira alive were Shinazugawa-san and Giyuu-san." She heaved out a sigh, following the man's movements as he paused to adjust her grip on the katana. His vibrant eyes met her own curiously. "Then why do you still fight Kibutsuji?" (Y/n) scoffed. "If I don't fight, then there will be no one left to do so. Everyone will die."

The man studied (Y/n)'s hard expression. She was still a young girl, yet her eyes spoke of horrors beyond her years. It was frightening. No one deserved to lose their childhood to battle.

The day after (if anyone could call it that when there was no sun or moon) proved a challenge on (Y/n)'s beaten body. Fatigue kicked in like the bullet train. She heaved, hunching over her knees for support. The Breath of Sun was a long forgotten breathing technique only Tanjiro knew. His family passed it on as the Hinokami Kagura to keep it hidden from Kibutsuji.

How the heck did this man expect (Y/n) to learn it within the span of a week?

"Try again."

(Y/n) complied. She hated the burn in her lungs and the tremble in her arms when she breathed.

Breath of Sun: Second Form, Clear Blue Sky.

A wheeze escaped (Y/n)'s throat as she lifted her katana. Her limbs trembled and shook from the strain because oh, what the heck, she was barely hanging on by a thread.

"Don't stop," the man stated. "You are doing well." His voice so simple and encouraging was enough to give (Y/n) strength. She swung through, eyes widening as flames the colour of dawn burst from her blade. They crackled and sizzled with a warmth like no other, chasing away the dark to reveal black tile beneath (Y/n)'s feet.

For a split second, she thought she saw the man smile. As quickly as it came, it went with the flames .

Days might have passed, or weeks to months. (Y/n) wasn't sure when it all blurred together to mush. The most she remembered was that man's calming voice grounding her to Earth and the kind way he cleaned her wounds whenever she finished battling Kibutsuji.

The man never disappeared, nor was he ever fully present. Sometimes he faded, other times, he fought alongside (Y/n) like a shadow, hands over hers as she swung her katana until her body gave out. Kibutsuji usually left after that, complaining about wasting his time before the man came back.

Then the cycle repeated. Over. And over. And over.

Until the day (Y/n) awoke.

In the classroom so peacefully quiet, she couldn't help but wonder how she were still alive. Death had been so close, a single breath away from stealing her own for good. "Tsugikuni Sensei," (Y/n) frowned, "I understand that you were the one who helped me, but how was it possible?"

Yoriichi solemnly filled her cup with more tea. Steam wafted into the air, white tendrils that curled and swirled like snow. "I was reincarnated with a Quirk. One could call it luck regardless of the fact that I was born with it. I only wish my brother had gotten it instead of me." He paused and (Y/n) followed his gaze to her half-eaten lunch. "Please, finish eating. You still have the rest of the day to get through."

Food was the last thing on (Y/n)'s mind. She finally found a breakthrough after being kept in the dark for many, many moons, how could she waste a second? "I'll survive. I almost died in my sleep, anyway."

Concern flashed upon Yoriichi's face and he frowned. "You must take better care of yourself, (Y/n)." He spoke firmly, yet that serene tone in his voice never faded. "The only reason Kibutsuji hadn't overtaken your body was because he wasn't able to fuse a high content of himself with you."

A bitter taste filled (Y/n)'s mouth. She knew she wasn't exceptional, yet hearing that verbally drove a knife into her heart. "Then I've only been lucky." She took a long sip of tea, mulling over the near-defeat that could have been her death. "What else you do know, Tsugikuni Sensei?" Yoriichi's gaze fell to the teapot. "In regards to the Quirk that sent you to the past--"

(Y/n) frowned. She recalled Hawks mentioning the Tsugikuni twins at HPSC's quarters. That meant they were all working together, conspiring either to defeat or use her for their own selfish gains.

"--it might have had connections to another Quirk, 'Revival'. The user who possessed it was a member of the Yamaguchi family, the brother of Haruka. He and the rest of his family are all dead. Why, I do not know."

The steaming cup in (Y/n)'s hands was suddenly cold. She stared at the golden liquid, tensing. "What, so Revival was some Quirk that brought you to life or something? Did it...I don't know...have a range of people it could revive? Or maybe a rebound?"

Yoriichi motioned to (Y/n)'s food and she sighed. When she shoveled some rice into her mouth, Yoriichi continued. "That is fundamentally the premise of the Quirk. Rivival went hand-in-hand with Haruka's Quirk, Time Travel. Because he sent you both to the past, the brother was able to use Revival for those in that time period. What he didn't know was that it only worked on the living in the last moments of life."

Great. This just got more complicated. "How does this have to do with anything?" (Y/n)'s patience was once again, running thin. "Unless you're implying Revival somehow didn't work correctly because Haruka was dead, then that makes no sense. It's not like I've seen any dead people walk the streets as of late."

Yoriichi blinked. "You may actually be correct." (Y/n) gave him a long, hard look. "What do you mean?"

"Because Haruka was dead before his brother could activate 'Revival', nothing happened to his brother. We don't have all the details, but it is assumed the Quirk on had effect on someone time travels spent the most time with. Time Travel itself leaves traces of energy behind, which allows Revival to activate even throughout different time periods."

(Y/n) sat very still. She stared at the last of her meal, then the tired reflection in her tea cup. "That Quirk user was stupid." she muttered. "What happened with Revival?"

"We theorise that one of your friends is alive. Who, we do not know because of your large circle of friends. As for myself and my brother, we are all reincarnated along with the Oyakata-sama of the Taisho Period."

(Y/n) wasn't sure how to react. Her insides bubbled with a fire that grew into uncertainty. She wanted to be happy, yet all that remained was the bitter taste of betrayal. It was likely Hawks worked closely with the Tsugikuni twins since they were always the bane of his day, which also meant he knew this information as well as Yoriichi.

"That reminds me," Hawks shuffled a stack of papers on the other end, "remember the annoying twins? His boss convinced my boss to sneak him a job, so he'll be one of your teachers."

Hawks had sharp eyes and ears, he would have easily figured out the background details on his own without assistance. But why keep it a secret? The words replayed in (Y/n)'s head like a song on repeat. Answer me. Answer me. Now that she had all this information, what was she supposed to do with it?

How was she supposed to live with herself? Kibutsuji's existence was, in fact, real, the world hung upon (Y/n)'s shoulders, her teacher turned out to be a reincarnated demon slayer, and now one of her friends may be alive? Questions spun through her head, filling her senses with static.

"Normally I'd give you a straight answer, but there are a bunch'a eyes on my back."

The President must have made Hawks swear not to tell. Why else would he deceive her like Kai and Hari? Hawks was different--much, much different. (Y/n) took a long sip of tea, chewing on her bottom lip. "Your brother, he was Upper Moon One, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

The colour drained from (Y/n)'s face. She swallowed hard, memories of blood-stained floors and doors that led to nowhere flashing across her vision. The Infinity Castle left scars, all which had long faded due to her Quirk. What remained was invisible, laid upon her heart.

"I assume he is now human, but..." (Y/n) trailed off, throat dry.

Yoriichi nodded in understanding. "I understand your concerns. There is nothing that can redeem my brother, but in order to see to it that Kibutsuji is defeated, all of us must bear through this." (Y/n) numbly nodded and stood to empty her tray into the rubbish bin. "I understand, it's just..."

How did one work beside a murderer? A cold-blooded demon who took the lives of those she loved? Sanemi's screams, Genya's sacrifice, Muichiro's last words--they all haunted her restless slumber. Working beside Upper Moon One was insulting to everyone's efforts in that last battle, yet to save the world, she had to swallow it. Control the very things that made her human.

Yoriichi stood, each step silent as the night. "(Y/n)," he placed a hand to her shoulder, "your feelings towards my brother are justified. Do not think for a moment that you must swallow them, but for all our sakes, there must be no fighting amongst each other."

"I understand." The thought threatened to loom over (Y/n)'s head like a cloud. "You said Oyakata-sama is also alive. Did he predict that this would happen? He must have known something from the start." Yoriichi released her shoulder, eyes solemn and quiet. "Yes, but we couldn't have been sure. There was no evidence to explain Oyakata-sama's foresight, so we had nothing to present to the HPSC."

(Y/n)'s hand twitched.

"From now on, we must tread lightly. Although they are our partners in this endeavor, they cannot fully be trusted." Quiet solemn fell over Yoriichi's brilliant eyes. He stared at the tiled floor and sunk to his knees, folding them under with the length of his kimono. "After many generations, the cycle has yet to end. It is only right I apologise for my incompetence."

Yoriichi's forehead kissed the ground in a neat bow.

"Do not look at me with hope or awe. I am a man who was unable to accomplish the one thing he believed was his destiny, and because of that, many people died. To know that my failure led to this present is painful, but I know that you, out of everyone, is suffering the most. I am sorry, (Y/n)."

She thought back to Senjuro who cried in her arms in the kitchen with incomprehensible apologies, Kyojurou who gripped her hand tight before dying, Muichiro who begged her to smile for him before he passed on, and so many others. Silent apologies cut deeper than knives, but to hear those very words out loud?

It hurt.

"You deserve so much more, yet there is nothing to offer. Not as long as Kibutsuji lives." Yoriichi lifted his head. Through the age in his eyes and the wisdom of his words was a young man. He had to be no older than twenty-four, just shy of the age Slayers with the Mark died at. "You are very brave and strong (Y/n). Thank you for continuing to remain a Hashira to the Corps."

The way Yoriichi spoke was as natural as saying the sky was blue. He was confident, firm in his beliefs. (Y/n)'s eyes stung. She set the lunch tray down on a desk and averted her gaze to the wall. She was nothing special. Not a prodigy, not the best or the worst, or someone noteworthy.

Tsugikuni Yoriichi was a person whom everyone drew hope from. He was born special, lucky, while (Y/n) was lucky to have even been born. She avoided Yoriichi's gentle eyes to clutch her lunch tray tight. "I need to drop this off before the period is over," she swallowed the crack in her voice with a low bow, "thank you, Tsugikuni Sensei."

He watched her quietly, nodding. "Of course."

The door shut behind (Y/n) as she stepped into the quiet hallway, sighing. She thought of all her failures, all the deaths that could have been prevented if she were better at doing her job. Would Kyojurou be disappointed in her? Sad? (Y/n) didn't know, and even if she did, she wanted to lock it away.

Dead people can't speak, after all. Who knew if Yoriichi was only giving her false hope? It seemed too convenient for the two Quirks to work hand-in-hand, but maybe that was her paranoia speaking. A part of her that feared if anything good happened, it would only lead to more heartache.

"'Scuse me!"

(Y/n)'s eyes widened. She looked up from the lunch tray clutched tightly between her fists and paused. "What the--"

Before she could so much as side-step, a boy with fiery red hair came plummeting into her side. (Y/n) flinched, a hand catching his shoulder to stop them both from flying into the windows. The boy heaved out a relieved breath, then he took a step forward and tripped over his own feet.

(Y/n) caught his shoulder again, steadying him on his feet while balancing the tray in another. "Are you alright?" The boy ran a hand over his red, spiky hair with another huff. (Y/n) recognized him as her classmate, Kirishima Eijiro.

"I thought I was a goner," he said in relief. "But I think I lost him. Did not know asking people for their names would make them want to blow up your face." He grinned brightly. "I remember you! You're that super manly girl who stood up to that Bakugou jerk. And you launched that ball during the test like some kind of Dragonball Z character!"

"O-oh," (Y/n) paused with an awkward smile, "yes, that was me. You're not hurt, are you?" She already knew he wasn't, but if an awkward silence ensued, she would probably start panicking. The grin on Kirishima's face remained plastered to his lips. "Yeah, thanks...Itachi-san..?"

"Chisaki."

Kirishima laughed awkwardly and scratched at the back of his head. It seemed he was just as nervous as her (if not more, the poor kid). "Thanks, Chisaki-san, I owe you one!" Kirishima flashed a big thumbs up and (Y/n) felt heat rush to her cheeks. "Oh, you don't owe me anything. Don't worry."

"But I want to," Kirishima jabbed a finger at the window, "it's open, I probably would have flown out into the street if you didn't catch me. Do you like choco pan?" (Y/n) couldn't remember the last time she had one of those. Oyaji used to buy pastries from the local bakery at the supermarket every other Sunday. She usually ate whatever he bought. "Oh, well...I suppose."

The grin on Kirishima's face seemed to widen. Despite the hard look on (Y/n)'s face, he felt the warmth in her voice. She was sincere, and if she weren't a nice person, she wouldn't have taken the trouble to save him (like a hero!). "Nice, I'll give it to you tomorrow morning!" He broke into a sprint and waved. "Bye, Chisaki-san!"

She mimicked him with a tilt of her head, grip loosening around the lunch tray. "You should probably walk. What if you trip again?" Kirishima slowed to a light jog with a hum. "True, but I don't want to be caught by Bakugou!" And then he disappeared down the corner, sprinting like some Olympic track star.

What a funny little boy.

---

"Okaeri," Yushiro greeted with a frown. "Do you want some tea?"

(Y/n) rested her head in her arms with a grumbled 'yes'. Her voice came out stuffy and scratchy from all the stresses of today. Funnily enough, none of the causes were school. Ironic, all that time studying only to be bombarded with life's biggest roller coaster? Yikes.

The sink squeaked as Yushiro filled a pot. "How did it go?" (Y/n) thought for a long, hard moment before looking up. She met Yushiro's concerned gaze as Chachamaru climbed into her lap. He was warm, calming. "Apparently some people are still alive."

Yushiro shut off the sink and set the pot on the stove with a knit of his brows. "Some people?"

"They're alive." (Y/n) shrugged limply. "The legendary demon slayer, Tsugikuni Yoriichi, his brother, and Oyakata-sama. Someone else might have been revived because it had to relate to the Quirk that sent me to the past, but we don't know who it is." A long silence fell over the room save for the low hum of the stove's flames. Yushiro looked like he was running a marathon. "The Tsugikuni Yoriichi is alive. What the hell are you on about...?"

And so began a long winded explanation about the phone call with Hawks in the morning, then her bad encounters with stupid children at school, then the conversation with Yoriichi and how he bowed and cried in apology.

Yushiro was kind enough to make (Y/n)'s favourite dinner and buy her some pastries from a bakery down the street after that. He sent her off to bed with a smack to her shoulder and a shout of 'stop thinking so hard!'.

Day two of school. The world seemed to pass by on its own, not quite alive, yet not quite dead. (Y/n) heard the voices of Kibutsuji and the way he craved to be released from the prison of her mind.

"The power this generation holds is enticing," he whispered. "Why hold back if you're nothing more than a stepping stone?"

(Y/n) swallowed hard and swerved into the English classroom. Learning a foreign language on top of studying the usual core classes wasn't doing her mental state any good (along with Kibutsuji who needed to shut the f up). After that conversation with Yoriichi, she didn't know what to think. Having a friend alive was great, but if they were happy in this lifetime, why disrupt that peace?

A tap shook (Y/n) from her thoughts. She looked up from her open notebook to find a chocolate cornet on her desk. The package was sleek and barely crinkled, as if the carrier had protected the dessert with his life.

Kirishima smiled widely. "I actually saw you go to this bakery last night. Not that I'm a stalker or anything," --he frantically waved his arms around-- "I was just going to the convenience store so I went there, too! Everything tasted pretty good, to be honest. Hope you like this!" A small smile threatened to rise to (Y/n)'s lips. She met Kirishima's eyes, gaze gentle as snow.

"Thank you, Kirishima-san." Red lit up his face. "Don't--don't mention it!"

The next few classes were a blur until (Y/n) wanted to bang her head against the wall until she bled and got sent to the nurse's office. The issue, for once, wasn't her or that mountain of problems piling on her shoulders. It was just...how could people be so stupid?

All Might assigned a two-on-two trial battle, in which each team was either 'villain' or 'hero'. Since there was an odd number in the class, (Y/n) ended up in a group of three.

The first match consisted of Uraraka and Midoriya against Bakugou and Iida. Bakugou must've had some hidden inferiority complex under that tough-guy act, because his only target during the whole match was Midoriya. (Y/n), being the well-raised professional, didn't comment on the lack of structure in the lesson plans All Might made. He seemed much more invested in this petty rivalry than the actual exercise itself.

It was interesting. Why pair two kids against each other who clearly didn't get along? What was worse, the audio didn't work while Midoriya and Bakugou shouted at each other.

The only kids who seemed decent during the match were Iida and Uraraka. They had spirit, no matter how badly Bakugou and Midoriya outshone them with their bickering. Seriously though, this school was huge, how couldn't they afford cameras with working sound?

From the looks of it, Bakugou wasn't going to ease up on Midoriya. He pulled a trigger on his gauntlet and an explosion shook the whole building. Chunks of cement cracked and fell haphazardly and gods, was that kid alright in the head? The goal of this exercise for his team was to protect the 'bomb', not destroy it along with his enemies.

(Y/n) heaved out a long sigh. "Someone's going to die."

A blond kid jolted in his shoes, sweat forming on his temple. He turned to (Y/n), sweating bullets. "Someone's going to die?" he (Kaminari?) echoed. "Sensei! Please put a stop to this! That Bakugou kid's gone mental, he'll kill him at this rate!"

All Might's gaze never left the screen. He was definitely going to call this off, right? (Y/n) wasn't sensing some sort of determination in his soul, right?

"No."

Yikes. Maybe it was time to start writing Midoriya's will.

All Might picked up the mic and spoke into the intercom. "Bakugou, my boy, if you shoot another blast like that I'll end this exercise forcibly and you will lose." The seriousness in his voice seemed to put some nervous students at ease. "Launching an attack with such an extensive damage radius while indoors defeats the purpose of protecting your stronghold! It doesn't matter if you are a hero or a villain, that was foolish. You'll earn yourself massive demerits!"

Explosions on site weren't simply causes of 'massive demerits', but death. In her time fighting demons, (Y/n) saw whole distracts destroyed fire, raining arrows, and so much more. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at the screen. The flame of the blasts, the explosion of the building--these future heroes had a lot to learn if they were serious about going Pro.

Team Uraraka eventually claimed victory. All Might called for droids to bring escort Midoriya to the nurse's office on a stretcher. "The best in this match was young Iida!" he announced. "Everyone, please give your classmate a hand!"

Asui (the frog girl) placed a finger to her chin curiously. "But weren't the winners of this match Midoriya and Uraraka?" The grin on All Might's face seemed to widen. "I wonder why I could possibly think so? Anyone knows why?" A girl with black hair and bright eyes raised her hand. She spoke enthusiastically, matter-of-factly.

(Y/n) pursed her lips together. That girl was Yaoyorozu's daughter as well as a recommended student. For a smart girl, she looked innocent and pure, nothing akin to the man who helped birth her. Yaoyorozu Oji-san was a shady man with an amiable face. It helped him smooth talk his way to establish his tycoon of a business.

It seemed that trait was shared, at least.

The next match was moved to a new site due to the overwhelming damages caused by those students' recklessness. (Y/n) couldn't help the sighs escaping her lips on the way there. No wonder why tuition was through the roof, these kids destroyed everything.

(Y/n) was placed on a hero team with Todoroki and Shouji. The villains consisted of Ojiro and Hagakure.

The mock city was silent save for the loud, thundering footsteps of (Y/n)'s classmates. She pressed her back against a wall, senses open to picking up the next presence in her vicinity. She sensed two people, one further away than the other. "Shouji-san," she said, "what do you see?"

The eyes on his wings peered around the vicinity as (Y/n) made her way through the side door. The empty building made it easy to sense if anyone was around.

"One of them's on the North side of the fourth floor," Shoji stated, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling. "The other's on the same floor...barefoot."

So were they planning an ambush? Considering Hagakure was invisible, Ojiro could act as a distraction for her to ambush them. "If that's the case," (Y/n) glanced out the window, "I can--"

"You two stay outside." Todoroki leisurely brushed past them. "If they intend to make this a defensive game, it won't be much for me." An irritated frown pulled at the edges of (Y/n)'s lips. She kept a trained eye on Todoroki's back as he touched his hands to the building. Ice curled from his palms, rising to coat the entire structure in a thick layer.

"Wonderful," (Y/n) muttered. "He's that type of guy." She heaved out a huff and turned on her heel. "I hope you understand that this was supposed to be a group exercise, Todoroki-san. If we all get zeroes, you're taking all the blame."

The match ended in victory.

Apparently, Todoroki turned out to be a recommended student--the son of Endeavor, the Number Two Hero. Most of the students here had little experience in combat, quick-witted situations, and the constant fear of the unexpected, so Todoroki had a leg up.

But one leg wasn't as high as the mountain of steps (Y/n) climbed in the past. Her peers were still children, ignorant to the horrors those their age would have already been subjected to.

The exercise didn't take long to end. (Y/n) stood in the control room once again, pondering and watching her peers practice against each other in the new assigned space.

"Hey," Kirishima said. "I didn't get to see you do anything." (Y/n) spared a second's glance at Todoroki. He waltzed in like he owned the place, chin held high and eyes focused forward. "Well, I didn't have much chance." she said. "Besides, we have this class again anyway. You'll see me do something eventually, Kirishima-san."

---

Kibutsuji started again in history class. His insistent, silky voice like oil bombarded (Y/n)'s ears every waking moment of the day and she wondered if he ever got tired of trying to entice her with power and empty promises.

That was a terrifying thought. If Kibutsuji lost interest, what would he do? The constant matter of 'if' and 'when' hung heavy in the air. A constant matter of--

"Chisaki," called Midnight, "what major event happened in 2002?" (Y/n)'s gaze rose to the board stiffly. She stared at the chalk for a hard moment, thinking, trying to recall what Hari had told her some months ago in the living room that always smelled like wood and sakura.

"The collapse of the double towers after a villain attack." (Y/n) monotonously answered. She ignored the sweat building on her palms and the way her shoulders tensed as Midnight began writing on the chalkboard. "Good."

(Y/n) bit back a sigh as Midnight happily continued on with the lesson. That was close, much too close for comfort. She The Ice Hashira fretting over simplistic academic matters? Pathetic.

(Y/n) rubbed at her aching temples and scribbled a few notes. She mindlessly listened to the lecture, rubbed at the sleep threatening to shut her eyelids tight. Wisteria poison did great to silence Kibutsuji when he got too strong, but after ingesting so much of it, Yushiro shelved it all because it was dangerous and 'detrimental to your health'.

He was right, (Y/n) was beginning to feel the effects of fatigue every now and then. But it didn't really matter. (Y/n)'s health was minuscule in comparison to the future of Japan. A small spec among many. She thought back to Yoriichi, who bowed on his knees in apology. The tears streaming down his face--it pained her to think of it and what the world could be if she weren't strong enough.

The next few days of school were repetitive. An exercise for hero-training, then academics the rest of the way. (Y/n) wasn't the worst student, but she sure wasn't the best either. She had to rely on everything Kai, Hari and Yushiro beat into her to survive. It hurt to think about her brother and Hari, the two who stood upon thin ice. And after a couple weeks of school, she hadn't seen either of them. They texted her, but she left them on read.

It wasn't fair that they acted as if nothing happened. Why leave their wrongdoings to the past if it was the very dagger that drove a rift between them?

Then there was that odd little boy: Kirishima Eijiro. He showed up everyday, smiled as if life were good, and talked a lot (not as much as that Kaminari kid, but still). Every now and then, Kirishima showed up by (Y/n)'s desk. She asked him once why and he shrugged, saying, 'I don't know, just wanted to talk'. He was a sweet kid, too nice for his own good.

That morning, (Y/n) stared at the pavement, kicking a few pebbles away as she rounded a corner towards the school's front gates.

Bustling chatter and a thick throng of reporters greeted her. She stared at them all for a hard, long minute before sighing and shoving her way through. Microphones were pushed into her face and cameras clicking with flashes of light. It was a blinding mess that left her dizzy.

"What do you think about All Might as a teacher?"

"Is he better off like this than just our Number One Hero?"

"Wait, that's the girl that fell out of the sky!"

(Y/n)'s shoulders slumped in exasperation. The chatter grew into incomprehensible strings of rapid-fire questions. What's it like being a Yakuza's adoptive daughter. Who is your brother. What has become of the Shie Hassaikai. What is it like being under the roof of criminals. Who. What. Where--

(Y/n) glared at the reporters, heart hammering in her chest. She didn't like this, but no matter how many times she siad 'excuse me' they didn't move. Only more questions, more demands, more cameras and flashes. A woman shoved a microphone and camera into her face. "For the past four years, where did you disappear, Chisaki-san?"

(Y/n) turned the other way.

"It was stated that no public announcements were going to be made about your situation!" exclaimed another reporter. "How does it feel to be in a hero school while your family are Yakuza? They're a criminal organization, how did you end up at U.A.?"

A tick mark appeared on the side of (Y/n)'s temple. Her expression hardened, golden eyes steeling over with the early chills of winter. The wall of reporters and cameras didn't budge, they were probably used to that kind of thing since they only seemed more enthusiastic.

"What kind of classes do you take?"

(Y/n)'s head began to spin. She averted her gaze to the ground, a hand clutching the strap of her bag tight.

"It's rumoured you're a recommended student!"

Where were the gates? She had to leave. She had to go. Go. Go.

"Some have posted online about your relationship with the Number Three, Hero Hawks. What do you have to say about that?"

A hand connected with (Y/n)'s shoulder and she tensed. The spinning in her head overtaking her senses like a blizzard intensified, growing and rising until the voices and flashes all blurred into one. The hand firmly led her towards the gates of U.A., where stragglers watched from afar with disdain and mild interest.

The reporters' shouting slowly faded. They desperately called from the other side, begging for answers that (Y/n) couldn't bear disclose. She numbly glanced over her shoulder at the crowd, where reporters stuck their mics through the bars.

(Y/n) paused in her step, eyes wide and alert. A pair of blood red eyes met her own, just as wide, just as alert, as if the man hadn't expected to see her. They bore into her skull, burning, searing. Then the man pulled his hood further over his face and disappeared into the throngs.

Blood roared in (Y/n)'s ears, pulse quickening with adrenaline. All those years of training under the cover of night, learning to sense the world for what it was and could be, told her to draw her sword. To fight. She resisted the urge, grip tightening around the strap of her bag.

"Chisaki."

(Y/n) resisted the urge to form a fighting stance. She looked up to meet Aizawa's dead-fish eyes, tensing. His gaze softened in exasperation, concern shining through his bored facade. "What is it?" He paused, following her gaze to the gates. "Forget the press, the bell's gonna ring in a few minutes."

Aizawa's words went in one ear and out the other. (Y/n) replayed the image of those eyes over and over and over. Who was it? Why was he here? What did he want? Kibutsuji had gone completely silent, as if even he was just as unsettled. "Sensei," (Y/n)'s gaze remained glued to the gates, "did you see anything?"

A frown pulled at Aizawa's lips. "Don't worry about it, get to class before I mark you tardy." He motioned for her to run along. "Hurry up, the bell's ringing in five minutes." (Y/n) ripped her gaze from the bustling crowds, heart hammering against her chest. She shook off the instinctive want to fight, hoping that she wasn't wrong to ignore it. "Alright. Thank you, Sensei."

"Yeah." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Just go."

The beginning of homeroom buzzed with lively chatter. (Y/n) settled in the back of the class just as she did everyday, a pocket-sized notebook and pen in hand. Kirishima made his way to her desk with a wave, grinning as he usually did. "Geez, I had so much trouble getting into school today. They just wouldn't stop asking me questions."

(Y/n) set down her pen with a nod. "I didn't know what to do. Did you finish last night's homework this time?" Kirishima pursed his lips together with a nervous laugh. "Well...you see, I got home late because I went to help this old lady at a food stand, then I fell down a hill and..." He sighed and rubbed at the back of his head. "Yeah, no. I forgot."

(Y/n) pulled out her homework wit a shake of her head. "Grab a chair and do it now before homeroom starts. You don't want to fall behind." Kirishima's face lit up. "You're a life saver! I'll get you as many pastries as you want next week!" She averted her gaze to the side with a huff. "You don't have to, Kirishima-san..."

"Damn, you're so manly!" he exclaimed. "I'll get it for you anyway because I want to. Okay, so what does this mean?" And so began a quick study session while the class went about choosing a class president. (Y/n) wanted to say she didn't care, but a part of her interest was peaked when everyone started voting for themselves.

In the back of her mind, every alarm, every fibre in her body, screamed to move. To raise her blade. To fight. That image of those red eyes kept reappearing, kept flashing in her mind like mad. There was not an enemy in sight besides the one in her head yet (Y/n) worried. Why had Kibutsuji gone so quiet? And why had that man looked at her with such intensity?

"Chisaki-san!"

She looked up from her scribbles, where a boy with glasses and a serious expression stood rigid. Iida Tenya, the private school boy who scolded Bakugou for kicking his feet up on his desk. (Y/n) wasn't sure what to think of him yet, he was naive and increasingly ignorant to the world around him.

"You must vote in order for this to be a fair declaration." Iida said, pointing a finger to the board. Names were slapped across its surface in degrees of messy and neat characters.

"Yeah, I'd totally make a good class prez." said Kaminari (he was blond and a bit of a pervert). "Just wait and see!"

"Yeah, if I'm class prez, then I could just order girls to serve me all day--"

(Y/n) turned back to Iida with a disdainful frown. Yeah, she didn't need to hear that. It was bad enough she had no idea there were supposed to be class presidents, but now this? Yeesh. She looked at Kirishima, who nearly finished the last of his homework, then back at Iida, who patiently waited for a response.

Great. From the angry press to a weirdo with red eyes and now democracy. (Y/n) closed her notebook and stood. She didn't care who won, such matters as this were trivial. Why worry about class presidents and school when the whole world threatened to collapse on its side?

(Y/n) made her way to the board. Silence fell as eyes traced her every move, curiously studying her as she picked up a piece of chalk. "There." She marked a slash next to Iida's name. "It seems Midoriya and Yaoyorozu have the highest votes, though."

A grateful sparkle appeared in Iida's serious eyes. "One vote!" he cried, clenching a fist. "Thank you so much, Chisaki-san!" Yaoyorozu smiled sheepishly. "You wanted this job so badly, yet you voted for someone else..."

(Y/n) set the chalk down, blinking owlishly. It was funny, really. Why was everyone so pumped up about a trivial vote? The amount of joy bursting from Iida's heart was pure and innocent, like rays of sunshine on a summer day. He was full of youth, of hope and spirit she did not have. The same went for Kirishima, who greeted her every morning so sweetly, so warmly with a, 'Good morning, Chisaki-san!'.

Was this what it felt like to be a high schooler?

Lunch was slow to come with the routine of schoolwork. (Y/n) didn't want to think about how she almost fell asleep in math four times in a span of fifteen minutes. If it weren't for Iida tapping her shoulder, her face would have hit the desk. He caught her shoulder once and leaned towards her desk with a concerned frown.

It was, in short, embarrassing.

After a long, rather rambunctious class with Present Mic (he talked a lot and it didn't help that (Y/n) sat next to Kirishima in that class), lunch came. The rich scent of wonderfully cooked meals filled (Y/n)'s nose as she made her way to the corner of the cafeteria. She set her lunch tray down, mind wandering to those blood red eyes. They were engraved in her mind, a constant image that replayed over and over like a broken record.

Kibutsuji had been silent since that encounter. Not a peep left his lips when he usually awoke from his slumber to bother her around lunchtime. He hated having to be in the presence of gossiping children he deemed nothing more than his meal.

Was he perhaps afraid of that boy? No, no, it couldn't be. No tremors swept through (Y/n)'s veins the same as the moment her gaze locked with Yoriichi's. There was no one else in this world Kibutsuji feared but him. So what was it? What could have forced him into silence?

(Y/n) shoveled some rice into her mouth and chewed rather violently. It tasted great, but not as good as Kai's cooking. The thought of his stupid face made her cringe and she sighed lowly. It wasn't time to think of him. Or Hari. Or Oyaji. Or Eri.

A siren ripped through the cafeteria, its cry cutting through the noisy chatter. Some students paused to listen while others abruptly stood and began packing their book bags. "Security Level Three has been breached," came an automated voice. "Students, please promptly evacuate."

"The last time Security Level Three had been breached was three years ago," said a student. "Comment down below what you think happened! Follow me on TikTok for more at crazynpc3!"

Panic began spreading through the crowds like wildfire. Students broke into stampedes, pushing and shoving each other to make their way to the door. (Y/n) polished off her tea before firmly setting it down. For a school of elite students, none of them seemed to understand the meaning of 'calm and collected'. But, well, kids would be kids.

A chill ran down (Y/n)'s spine as she made her way to the cafe doors. Through the shouting and shoving, she weaved past the students and broke into a jog down the hall.

A level three breach was no small feat for U.A., a school nationally known for its tight security. It was possible someone used a teleportation Quirk to infiltrate the school, but were they stupid enough to do it knowing the alarms would go off? Maybe this was a distraction in order to get something (or someone).

The halls were quiet despite the loud sirens squealing in the background. (Y/n) slowed her breathing and opened her ears, listening. Thinking. She thought of those red eyes that bore straight through her. The anger that left her heart hammering against her chest. That man was suspicious, was it possible someone like him could have gotten in? Or maybe she was being paranoid and overthinking just as she always did--

A hand caught (Y/n)'s shoulder. She whipped around at the speed of light, catching the arm in an iron grip. A man with tousled black hair, bags under his eyes, and dead-fish eyes hissed. Wait, dead-fish eyes?

"Sensei."

"You're gonna crush my arm." Aizawa grumbled with a scowl. "It's just me, Chisaki." She released him with a tight frown. Usually, she'd be able to sense the presence of someone behind her. How distracted had she been? "Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No." Aizawa rubbed at his sore wrist. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to evacuate the premise."

(Y/n) surveyed the hall with a shake of her head. It was empty, just as she had found it. "I don't do well in crowds." That wasn't necessarily a lie. "So I tried to go around since everyone was shoving and pushing. Can't say anyone is very calm."

Aizawa searched (Y/n)'s eyes for answers. He took note of the way her gaze bounced across the halls, how her hands were curled into fists. He could chalk it up to paranoia, but he wasn't stupid. She had come here for a reason, and not because of the crowds.

"Next time don't do that," Aizawa scratched the back of his head, "you can't just wander around during a breach. I know it was only caused by the press, but still." (Y/n) frowned. "Breach?" The way Aizawa seemed to stiffen sent her mind reeling. She wanted to pry apart his mind for answers, tear his lies limb from limb, yet with his walls built high, she knew nothing would come.

"It's just the press." Aizawa was dismissive, uninterested in entertaining her. "Hurry up, you need to regroup with your classmates."

A shiver still ran down (Y/n)'s spine, a tingle that lingered and followed like shadows. She spared a single glance behind her, eyes cold and hard as ice.

Modern Era Secrets!

-Kai is actually broke af (his jacket is pretty expensive. it was an 18th b-day gift from Yaoyorozu Oji-san). Stealing is his main source of income, but lately he's secured himself a stable alternative (drug dealing)
-Yaoyorozu is the main sponser of the Shie Hassaikai, which allowed for their advancements to happen so fast
-Kai sends (Y/n) a message every morning telling her to be careful on her way to school
-Hari sends a message every day after school ends reminding (Y/n) to be careful on the way back home
-Aizawa is suspicious of (Y/n). Her profile is still near bare and he couldn't find much out about her
-Hawks is currently stuck working with Michikatsu. They don't like each other.
-Oyakata-sama has lots of plans for the future. He wants to go on a trip with his family to the beach before his illness begins to form again.

Chapter Text

'It won't leave my head
Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine
But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)...'
-Dark Paradise, Lana Del Rey

The bar's sign flickered across the small, dingy street. Some shops were still open for late night goers and those looking for easy money. (Y/n) didn't pay them any mind as she dragged a lone man down a narrow alleyway. His cries went unheard by the loud bass-boosted music shaking the concrete, forgotten to those too drunk to care.

"I think this might be the second time I've had a hunch about my brother this week," (Y/n) said with a grimace. She pinned the man to the wall by his collar, twisting it within a tight choke hold. "And the fifth time I've had to do this."

The man wheezed, kicking and writhing in fear. "Let me go!" he cried. "Let me go!"

(Y/n) seized his bag, slotted it between her feet, and unzipped it. "What has the Hassaikai been up to behind the scenes this time?" She yanked the satchel up and shook it out, watching with disinterest as bags upon bags of syringes fell to the dirty pavement. It was the same as the last four times she ambushed a suspicious looking Yakuza member and found out he was part of the Hassaikai.

Or really, whatever this new order was. The Yakuza didn't deal with scum who dipped their hands in drugs. Sure, other gangs definitely did, but not under Oyaji's watch. He lived with honour, pride, and would not stoop low to the level of desperation to stay afloat.

So where did Kai even get this stuff from? Who produced it for him? (Y/n) dug her heel into the syringes with a tch. They shattered with a crack, filling the plastic bags with dark liquid. "Don't dirty the name of the Shie Hassaikai with your drugs."

The cold, icy edge like winter in her voice sent shivers down the man's spine. He had long stopped struggling to accept whatever fate (Y/n) dared bestow. Anything to end this suffering, this fear gnawing into his broken mind. "P-please," the man rubbed his hands together, "don't kill me! Please, please, I beg you! I beg you!"

Little mercy shone in (Y/n)'s eyes like liquid gold. She threw him against the concrete, just enough to send him wheezing on his side. "My patience has waned as of late." she stated. "Don't test me."

"Please! I was--I was just doing w-what I was t-told!"

(Y/n) stared upon the man as if he were no less than the dirt in this alleyway, expression passive. Clinical. "'Just what you were told'?" Each step towards the man seemed to shake the Heavens. Move the mountains. "I assume you were ordered by the Eight Bullets. Be a good dog and send those circus clowns a message: Stop now unless you want to sleep with one eye open."

The man nodded frantically, bullets of sweat running down his face. "Of course!" He stood from his knees. "Please, leave it to me!" (Y/n) waved a hand towards the broken syringes. "Dispose of this and get out of my sight. I don't want to see the Hassaikai in this area again."

As the man fled the scene with the drugs, (Y/n) unzipped her school bag and took out a kleenux wipe. She sanitized her hands, a scowl twisting at her face. She'd give Kai a call to tell him to end this, but a part of her feared.

The last she'd seen of him was before she went into a deep sleep for months, fighting against Kibutsuji with every ounce of her strength. Kai wouldn't want anything to do with her, and the same went for (Y/n). She didn't want to think about how much she missed his cooking, how much she wanted to talk about anime with Hari, how much she longed for her room.

Or how much she wished for a single apology for that snowy night in the car.

(Y/n) made her way out of the alleyway, jaw tensed. "Now isn't the time to think about that," she muttered under her breath. "I have bigger issues to worry about."

Such as the amount of Hassaikai members running around with illegal drugs. Their numbers had risen in the past week, alerting (Y/n) of their presence here in the entertainment district. After U.A.'s breach today, it didn't help that she wound up dealing with drunks and other suspicious persons. She was slowly losing tolerance for this wayside society.

Where were the heroes to shut down these operations? Without a Hero License (Y/n)'s work was considered illegal. She was a Vigilante, someone the law would have no mercy against. "Not like anyone will find out anyway," she whispered to herself. "No one pays attention to the shadows as much as they should."

Lights flickered ominously from worn down bars and old abandoned shops. A few groups of drunken men stopped to stare, practically foaming at the mouth as (Y/n) strode through the streets like it was no one's business. A group of men sat clustered beside an open bar, drinking themselves half to death while laughing their heads off.

"Hey," said a man. "Want some extra money? We've got a room open down here at the bar--"

(Y/n) barely had to lift a hand. In a fraction of a second, she sent the man flying into his own buddies. They all tumbled to the pavement, bottles smashing as they fell down the stairs in a daze. Adrenaline pumped in (Y/n)'s veins as she shook out her fists with a huff. Her body craved for the rush to steer her mind clear of her brother. Clearly, Kai had strayed from the path of a Yakuza into that of a lowly crime syndicate.

Just what was that idiot thinking? Had he completely lost it or did he knock a screw lose the night he yelled at her? Drugs were a dangerous affair, one Oyaji never condoned. It was a useful tool regardless, and maybe that was the plan all along since he was bedridden as a vegetable.

A frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips. She didn't like that thought. It mulled in her head the whole way back home, eating at her insides until she wasn't sure what to do. Kai wouldn't go that far, would he? Sometimes, he was brash and cold, but that didn't mean he was heartless. Surely...surely there had to be a better explanation. A better answer (Y/n) was missing.

A familiar neighborhood soon came into view far from the main streets. Trees lazily rustled in the spring breezes, carrying a calming song that helped soothe (Y/n)'s mind. She passed through the wall at the street's end, passing into the familiar yard she had grown to cherish.

"You're back late." Yushiro said with a frown. He set the vacuum aside to start up the stove. "Where were you this time? Shopping for nothing? Or wandering around Musutafu like some homeless kid?"

(Y/n) hadn't realised she walked through the front door. She threw off her blazer, bag, and shoes before making her way into the kitchen, eyes damp and quiet. "The first time that happened, I didn't know what to buy when I went to the store. The second...I got lost trying to look for a store."

The sink squeaked as (Y/n) turned it on, quickly washing her hands before opening the fridge. "Today I just went for a walk." She pulled out a bottle of ice tea and began opening it. Yushiro scoffed indignantly and he smacked her upside the head. "There's fresh tea right here, (Y/n)!" He set a tea pot on the table and swiped the plastic bottle from her. "Don't drink that stuff all the time, do you know how many chemicals it has to keep it fresh?"

Chachamaru climbed into (Y/n)'s lap with a meow. She rubbed his head, whispering sweet nothings into his ears as he nuzzled into her side. "I didn't know you had tea brewed already."

Yushiro scoffed. "I always do."

"And you made dinner again."

"I always do, too." There was a prideful gleam in Yushiro's eyes as his wok began to sizzle and sear. He gave it a stir, gaze focused on the cooking broccoli. "Where were you? I know you can handle yourself, but it's not good to spend so much time out like that. You're still young, you need a home to come back to."

(Y/n) paused, heart swelling with a bittersweet warmth. She thought of Kai and Hari, that home where it was constantly cold and melancholic with nostalgia. Was it ever a home? She wasn't sure. "I suppose so," she quietly muttered. "Thanks for worrying about me, Oji-san."

Yushiro only huffed and turned off the flames. He pulled out a bowl and spooned some yakisoba into it, watching as steam wafted into the air. "You can thank me by staying healthy. You forget you're only fifteen. It doesn't hurt to act like it." He set down the bowl in front of (Y/n) and handed her a pair of chopsticks. "So, how was school today?"

The warmth in Yushiro's eyes prompted a small smile to rise to (Y/n)'s lips. She dug in with an 'itadakimasu', colour returning to her face with a flicker of happiness. "I made new friends. Somehow." Yushiro raised a brow. "What do you mean somehow? Humans always seem to like you eventually no matter what you do."

(Y/n) chose to take that as a compliment. She described the way she helped her classmates study, how they shared snacks before class, and how they constantly showed up beside her every morning without fail. These were the joys of youth, the joys a Hashira could never quite understand or have.

Why should (Y/n) of all people be allowed the luxury of teenage years? She was a murderer, a cold-blooded killer. But there was nothing left to do about it. People are said to remain the same at heart. If that were true for her, then she could sleep at night at least knowing Yushiro and Chachamaru kept her world bright.

---

The sun languidly rose through the sky, filtering its warm rays across (Y/n)'s face. She kept her steps quiet, silent as her mind reeled in thought. Blood red eyes, a shiver that never quite left her bones--that presence was not normal. It haunted her sleep, chased it away just as Kibutsuji did without fail.

But at this point, it was just life. (Y/n) couldn't do anything to change it.

The press were nowhere to be seen today. There were one or two stragglers left behind, but it was easy to slip by unnoticed. The school greeted (Y/n) with the usual. Bustling groups of tired students, excited chatter about new hero lessons.

"Excuse me."

(Y/n) frowned to herself. That voice sounded kind of familiar.

"Excuse me!"

A hand caught (Y/n)'s shoulder and she turned around, brows knit. A boy with short black hair and gorgeously long lashes (how blessed) held out a pastel folder. "Is this yours?" His voice was gentle as snow, sweet as nectar and honey. "Also, your bag is open, Chisaki-san."

(Y/n) blinked, frown deepening. She moved to take off her bag, but the boy unzipped it further and slipped the folder inside before closing it. He turned to her, lips pulling into a small smile. "You're from Class 1-A, right?" (Y/n) nodded and he seemed to smile wider. "I've heard a lot about you. They say you're pretty strong."

A bashful chuckle escaped (Y/n)'s lips. She shook her head, waving a hand. "No, no, that's not true." The boy blinked and his pink lashes fluttered in the morning sun. They were like the sakura blossoms in spring, so gentle, so harmonious. "Your classmates like to chatter about you, so I hear some things while I pass by. Nothing bad though, promise."

The boy's eyes were so blue, a gorgeous shade of sky blue. Their cool hues glimmered in the golden rays with affection. And affection (Y/n) felt deep in her soul. She studied the boy's face, from every curve to the way his hair fluttered as a breeze seeped in through the open windows.

Persimmon eyes. Blue tattoos. Eyes carved with the number three. (Y/n) blinked back the vision of Akaza, the last of his soft lips against hers, the last of his life in her hands. "W-what grade are you in?"

The boy's eyes softened like butter on a hot day. "I'm a third year, class 3-B. Soyama Hakuji, it's nice to meet you, Chisaki."

This voice, although much sweeter than (Y/n) remembered, remained smooth and sultry. She could never forget the memories shared under the stars, the amount of yearning for his hand in hers. "It's nice to meet you too, Soyama-san." It was like shoving rocks down her throat. "You can...call me (Y/n) since you're my senpai."

No. Because that was what he called her before--when Soyama Hakuji was simply Akaza.

"(Y/n)?" Hakuji tried so hard to sound focused and upbeat, yet the little lilt in his voice, the little crack, was clear as daylight. Here Chisaki (Y/n) was, in front of him, breathing, living, talking, yet he could do nothing to ask. Nothing to confirm that she knew who he was. "That name suits you."

And neither could (Y/n). It didn't matter whether Akaza had either been revived or reincarnated. He would not be involved. Not in an affair that would rip him from a life of peace and happiness. "Thank you," --the words hurt to say-- "it was nice meeting you. I have to go now."

"Wait, (Y/n)."

Tears threatened to burst from her eyes. She couldn't look at Akaza in the face anymore, not when he was a human who could walk in the sun and sing under the sky. It was all she had wished for him before his death, all she could have hoped for within her heart.

"Someday, I wish to stand under the same sky as you."

(Y/n) sent Hakuji a strained smile and turned on her heel. "Sorry," --she choked back a sniffle-- "I have to go, the bell's going to ring."

---

"Bro," Kirishima grabbed at his hair, "I don't think this is high school level. It's first period, I don't think I can do this so early in the morning." To his left, Kaminari crossed out a couple words and sighed. "I think I read the same sentence five times already. Still don't get it."

Through the churning in (Y/n)'s mind and the tears she forced back with a blink, she summoned the strength to stand. She weaved her way through the desks, stopping only in front of the two boys groaning and whining about schoolwork. "You can look at my notes," --she placed her paper on the desk and motioned to a highlighted section-- "when you guys read this paragraph, think of what the author's trying to coney."

"All I see are things about birds and clouds and the sky."

"Don't forget the seasons."

A strained smile rose to (Y/n)'s lips. She chuckled, brows knitted softly (sadly). "That's true, but there's more to it. What do you feel when you read about the seasons or the clouds and sky? Tranquil? Serene?" Kirishima placed his cheek in his hand with a hum. "I guess so. It's like...a super manly way to explain how the seasons affect us."

"Emotionally, I think." added Kaminari with a thoughtful nod. "So the author's trying to...like...make us feel what he's feeling? Or something?"

(Y/n) took her paper back with a nod. "Precisely. There's your answer."

The boys erupted in a round of cheering and high-fived. "We're so smart." Kaminari said with a laugh. Kirishima joined, grinning from ear to ear. "We're something of experts ourselves. Thanks for the help, Chisaki."

"Yeah, thanks!"

(Y/n) waved a hand in dismiss. She would have been happy, but tranquility and seasons only reminded her of Akaza. "Don't mention it." She wasn't sure if she meant it as a 'you're welcome' or not. "Don't forget to answer the comprehension questions as well."

Behind them, Mineta groaned loudly. He didn't have the heart to say something perverted in front of Tsugikuni Sensei, but he sure wanted to. Where's my scary, strong, gorgeous classmate to help me?! he thought. Look at me! I'm struggling too!

When the bell rang, (Y/n) took her time to pack up. The class seemed to take an eternity to leave. Kirishima lingered by the door with Kaminari and Ojiro, pausing in his step to peek in through the door frame. "You coming, Chisaki?" She shook her head. "I need to ask about the homework. Don't wait for me."

"You sure?" Kirishima furrowed his brows in concern. He didn't like the way (Y/n)'s feet dragged across the floor. "You look exhausted today." A dry chuckle only escaped her lips and she waved it off. "I drank too much tea last night, the caffeine kept me awake."

Thanks the gods for Kirishima's naivety. He made an 'ohhhh' sound and nodded with a wave. "Okay, see you next class then!"

The door closed with a low click and (Y/n)'s shoulders sagged. All the weariness from the past week and a half weighed down on her as an endless pile taller than the heavens. Yoriichi patiently waited by his desk, hands folded. He studied the frown on (Y/n)'s face to the way she seemed to sink in on herself. She was hesitant to ask now that she stood face-to-face.

"What bothers you, (Y/n)?" Yoriichi's gentle voice made her look up with a frown. She thought of those red eyes, the breach, the drug selling, Akaza. But she couldn't talk about him or else she'd start to cry.

(Y/n) rested a hand on the desk, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles anxiously. "Do you know anything about yesterday? This is U.A., there's no way the press could have triggered those alarms when we're known as one of the best hero schools in all of Japan."

Yoriichi turned to stare out the window. Warm sunshine cast itself across his eyes like sunsets, bringing warmth and reassurance to the room. As soon as it came, it withered, vanished into darkness. "I was the one to discover the breach." he stated. "The gate was completely blown to dust, yet we were unable to find anyone. The Press was an excuse to not cause panic, although...there is much wrong with lying to a school full of future heroes."

"I saw a man with red eyes." (Y/n) adjusted the clips in her hair, fiddling with them. "And while the alarm went off, I went to investigate. I had a feeling something was off, but Aizawa Sensei found me and took me with him before I could find anything." She swallowed, shifting from foot to foot. "I should have listened to my instincts. Whoever broke in must have wanted something at U.A."

The trees rustled outside with the grass, bringing in a warm spring breeze through the open windows. Papers rustled under their weights and the sun broke through a stray patch of clouds. "Or someone." Yoriichi added, expression hardening. "I can only hope you weren't their target, (Y/n)."

She frowned. "The only ones who know about Kibutsuji are you, my brother, my friend Hari, and Yushiro. As well as Hawks. Word couldn't have gotten out either." The hard expression on Yoriichi's face softened and he frowned. "Did Hawks tell you why the HPSC want you under their command?"

(Y/n) thought back to her conversations. Hawks always avoided speaking about the HPSC because it made him extremely uncomfortable. They were predators, always watching, always listening. Now that she thought about it, the Tsugikuni were working alongside the HPSC, along with Oyakata-sama. There was no way they were able to form an alliance unless they shared a common goal.

"Scylla," she tensely muttered. "I heard that I was not to be told about it. The only reason I can think of as to why is because that was an operation involving Kibutsuji." (Y/n) paused. It was like a drop of water falling into a still lake, bringing with it ripples and ripples of realisation she should have seen sooner.

The truth made her stomach lurch.

"Everyone knew from the start." She swallowed, eyes widening. "You all knew about Kibutsuji, didn't you? And it was me who found out last because no one told me. I can't see any other reason to it. Hawks said he heard 'the twins' talking about it, but if he worked with you both, then he must have known along with the HPSC's Board."

Yoriichi met (Y/n)'s eyes solemnly. "I'm sorry."

She stared at Yoriichi. And stared and stared. Her eyes glossed over, swirling with bits of betrayal that littered her golden hues. She was always getting the short end of the stick. Always finding things out when she least expected, or when her life depended on it. Ever since she woke up in that damned hospital room. Ever since she found out Oyaji was bedridden. Ever since Kai and Hari and Hawks and everyone she knew lied.

And lied.

And lied.

And lied.

(Y/n)'s jaw tensed as she picked up her bag. "This whole time!" The crack in her voice echoed against the walls. "I keep trusting people even when they keep lying to my face because I want to believe in them. I want to have faith, yet--yet when I do, I'm the one who's left ignorant."

In the back of her mind, (Y/n) thought of Kai. She recalled a conversation they had just after dinner, where the sink squeaked in the background and water began to run across used dishes.

"How do you know others like that crazy doctor don't exist?" Kai had inquired. "They might take you away from me."

(Y/n) gripped the strap of her bag tightly. "You and Hawks both work for the HPSC or with them and I'm willing to bet Oyakata-sama is in on this too. I mean, come on. I'm Kibutsuji Muzan's vessel, why keep me alive when you could all save the world by chopping off my head? You're Tsugikuni Yoriichi!"

"If you don't do things for yourself," his golden eyes were clouded in thought, "are you really living?"

"The only one Kibutsuji Muzan fears is you!" (Y/n) could barely hear her own voice over the thrum of blood against her skull. "And the HPSC, Hawks keeps saying he's trying to 'protect me'. Protect me from what? If Oyakata-sama's not trying to kill me, then is it them? You?"

She didn't want to think about Kai, or those words, or the way he looked at her so softly and carefully as if he knew this would happen. As if he were prepared for the knife to finally sink into (Y/n)'s back.

"I can't trust anyone!" (Y/n) slammed a fist against the desk. It cracked under the pressure, splintering until a crater formed around her hand. "Not you, not my family, not Hawks, not anyone! How do I know you aren't all doing this to keep me in your sick game of chess? We all know the HPSC is corrupt! They don't care what happens to me! Why should you, o-or Oyakata-sama and Hawks? I'm done for!"

Tears blurred (Y/n)'s vision. She hated the sting, the frustration gnawing at her insides, the rapid thump, thump, thump of her heart. It was sad. She was losing not just her sanity, but her will to keep moving forward. "I'm done with this." A breathless laugh escaped her lips, cold and empty. "I should have died that day. Why did I have to live?"

"Heroes think they're special, they think they can save the world, but in the end, Quirks or not, we all die since we're just people, nothing more, nothing less."

Silence fell over the room, save for the hauntingly gentle caress of the breezes from the open windows. The soft sound of rustling trees broke through, along with the fierce rhythm of (Y/n)'s heart. It was proof of her existence, proof that she was only here to suffer.

"We're all worthless because when we die, life goes on and nobody cares."

When would this torture end? This heartbreak? For once, things were beginning to smooth out just a bit. It was rough around the edges, with the breach and the drugs busts, but (Y/n) made friends. Began realising what it felt like to be among people her age in youth.

Only for it all to come crashing down.

Everyone knew about Scylla and Kibutsuji. How long had that been going on? Since she arrived in the hospital? Was that the only reason why Hawks even approached her with a deal at all? Because Oyakata-sama and the HPSC had already begun to crack down on when she would arrive and what was bound to happen?

(Y/n)'s feet began moving before she could register the action. She didn't want to go anywhere. Didn't want to think. Didn't want to do anything. All she needed was to be alone, just as she should have been in death. Who cared about saving the world? Who cared about helping others? This suffering, this pain, (Y/n) wanted it to end. For good.

"(Y/n)."

She exited the classroom, ignoring the sad look on Yoriichi's face. Tears blurred her vision, little droplets that glimmered in the rays of sun like gold.

Kai was right. At the end of the day, Quirks or not, people were nothing because they all eventually died. No one cared to remember their names for long because life would go on, and they would be forgotten.

---

(Y/n) glared at the clock. It read twelve fifty, meaning there were about three hours left of school.

"For the foundational skill of heroics we're studying today, it turned out that you'll be supervised by a three-man team comprising of me, All Might, and someone else." Aizawa explained. He looked more awake today since he got out of his sleeping bag, but that might've been because he got a good two hours of sleep before class started.

A hand shot up and (Y/n) mentally cursed the world and everything in it. No questions, she thought. Please just get on with it.

"Sensei!" exclaimed Sero (he was the one with a tape Quirk). "What'll we be doing today?"

Dramatically, Aizawa dug into his desk and pulled out a card with the words 'RESCUE'. "Be the hero everyone needs, whether it's a flood or any other disaster. It's the trial of rescue." A little side chatter came from the front of the room. "Trial of rescue..." muttered Kaminari. "Sounds a bit difficult this time around." A bright grin made its way to Ashido's lips. "Totally!"

"It's manly," said Kirishima. "That's what a Hero's job is all about. Let's get this bread!"

Everyone was much too enthusiastic, much too happy. Was this a curse on (Y/n)'s existence? She rested her head in her palms, sighing.

Aizawa didn't look that interested in the explanation either. "Don't get ahead of yourselves," he stated. "As I was saying, this time, it's entirely up to you whether or not you wear your costume. Some of them probably aren't adapted to the task anyway." He pulled out a remote and tapped a button. Tall shelves pushed out from the walls, where numbered cases sat lined up in neat rows "The training area is pretty far away, so we'll be getting there by bus. That's all. Get prepared."

(Y/n) stood and grabbed the case labeled '19' in bold. She quickly made her way to the locker room, hoping that she could be quick enough to avoid conversing with the other girls.

"I'm sorry." Yoriichi said.

A pang made (Y/n)'s chest ache. She entered the locker room and roughly set the case on a bench. Just as she opened it, in flooded her classmates. She frantically took out her clothes and yanked on the uniform top, praying that everyone would ignore her so she could be alone. But gods, why did it take so long to button up her shirt?

Don't talk to me. Don't talk to me. Don't talk to me--

Asui's gaze flickered over to (Y/n)'s as she shoved on her trousers and began tying the leg wraps. Oh no, that girl was going to talk to her. But she was almost done getting dressed. Just a little longer and she could slip out. Undetected. Quietly. Silently--

"I always say what I think no matter what's on my mind," Asui started, placing a hand to her chin. "Last time we were in the locker room, you were too fast for anyone to speak to you." Uraraka pulled on her jumpsuit with a nod, smiling brightly. "Yeah, you're super quick, Chisaki-san."

(Y/n) avoided their gazes. She wasn't sure where to look when everyone was half-naked. "Ah," --what was she supposed to say to that-- "I see." It was funny really. Chisaki (Y/n) could kill a man with only his necktie and smash someone's bones by merely stepping on them, yet all she could say in the face of her classmates was 'I see'? How sad.

An amiable smile rose to Asui's lips. She didn't seem as bothered as (Y/n). "You're always very lowkey and practical, like your hero costume. I also noticed that you wear a lot of winter-themed things." She gestured to the snowflake pattern on (Y/n)'s haori, then the clip in her hair. "Does your Quirk have anything to do with snow?"

The other girls had slowly turned to listen to the conversation. (Y/n) sensed their anticipation as clear as day and it made her grow quiet. "Perhaps," she pulled on her haori, "you will find out once we get to the training facility."

Groans rang out as everyone finished prepping their costumes. "You're gonna kill me, Chisaki!" exclaimed Ashido. "I bet if Kirishima or Kaminari asked, you would have just straight up said so!" (Y/n) pulled on a pair of black boots with an exasperated sigh. "Well, I do talk to them quite often."

These girls were young, bright. They mingled with each other, childishly waving around their hands or pouting all cutely. It was nice to know this was the future the Corps had protected.

(Y/n) tightened the laces and tied them up. She would have gone with the classic zori, but worried it would be difficult to wear when most surfaces these days were hard concrete instead of dirt. It was a pain to lace up these boots though, and they were only mid-shin high.

"Please, tell us your Quirk Chisaki-san!" exclaimed Uraraka. Yaoyorozu's daughter shook her head with a sigh. "You all are so rowdy today. Leave her alone, she must be overwhelmed with all the attention."

Yes, yes. What a godsend Yaoyorozu's daughter was. (Y/n) sent her a small glance of gratefulness before packing up and offering a small smile.

The ride to the facility was more or less, noisy. (Y/n) couldn't remember the last time she rode a bus, much less for a short field trip. Her school had been underfunded, so the most they did were 'in school' field trips where guest speakers came to talk to them in the auditorium.

The simplicity of riding a bus was calming. It seemed to be the only constant today (Y/n) could rely on. With all these new details and colours painting her canvas black, her mind kept straying. She shut her eyes and leaned against the window, pursing her lips tight. Maybe a nap would keep everything at bay.

--

"A nap?" Kibutsuji scoffed. "You lose yourself everyday among those children that never shut up. And to think they're the next generation of 'heroes'. Pathetic."

(Y/n) took a seat at the head of a long black table. It was sleek and dark, as if carved from the blackest obsidian. At the other end sat Kibutsuji. He wore a plain white shirt and a blazer without his usual hat today. The mere sight of him made her skin crawl, her heart clench in anger.

"Why are you constantly bothering me? I already told you, no deal."

Kibutsuji picked up a stack of papers and sifted through them with disinterest. "The least you could do is stay quiet, Little Ice Hashira. I'm sick of hearing teenage gossip from children."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and Kibutsuji's gaze zeroed on her own. "You learn the Breath of Sun just barely and now you think you have the luxury of being spunky? Sassy?" He gripped the papers so tightly his claws impaled them. "I knew you were foolish, but this is beyond me."

The abyss of black seemed to glow with a faint red hue. Kibutsuji set the stack of papers down and picked up a fountain pen. "Don't take your life for anything less of a miracle." He scribbled a few notes down. "With how much I've been hearing about this 'Roblox' and 'Minecraft', it's better you count your days."

(Y/n) stood from the table. There was nowhere else to go in this abyss, but that was fine. As long as she was far, far away from the man that took everything from her. "Leave me alone."

Kibutsuji's gaze pulsed in the dark of the black mist. He set down the pen and it echoed against nothing. "Even that damned Sun Breather has lied to you. Everyone you think is on your side is your enemy. Forsake everything in this life, live selfishly. All you ever do is give, but they only take. Aren't you tired of being obedient? Forgiving?" He bared his fangs, revealing sharp rows of pearly whites. "All you do is cry and whine about how everyone lies to you. What have I told you, Little Ice Hashira? What have I offered?"

You don't know anything, (Y/n) thought. You're a monster.

In an instant, Kibutsuji appeared in front of her. He held her by the wrists, clawed into her skin. "You are no less of a monster for killing demons and those humans in the past. You are no saint, nor are you free of blood."

(Y/n) went limp in his hold, sighing tiredly. When would this game of cat and mouse finally end? She was sick of having to see this man's face all the time.

"Then give up." Kibutsuji stated. "I'm sick of it too. You have nothing. Your brother and friends betrayed you, those Hashira have long decayed to time, and Yushiro will soon realise your worthlessness. You are alone, and I'm sure you understand that." A cold, unfeeling smile rose to his lips. "It's time you submit. It will bring you the solace your heart desires."

He brutally dug into the skin of (Y/n)'s scalp. She staggered, heaving wildly to gain what little control she had in this abyss of black. But she was tired. It was a school day and she had to stay focused for today's assignment of 'rescue'. "I have faith in Yoriichi," (Y/n) sneered. "If I can't destroy you, then he will."

A shiver ran down Kibutsuji's spine. He stiffened, yanking (Y/n)'s face towards his own. "You seem to have the wrong idea," his deep voice echoed in the abyss, "especially if you believe I haven't grown stronger as well. Besides, only half an hour ago, you turned your back on that damned slayer." Without so much as a lift of his finger, (Y/n) fell into the arms of darkness, writhing in pain. She bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, shakily unsheathing her blade.

"I'll...kill you." The blade gleamed in the dark, a single beacon of hope when there was nothing. "As the...Ice Hashira...I will see to it your end."

Kibutsuji wasn't impressed. It was the same old rhythm, same old pattern as (Y/n) Overhauled herself back together and stood. "You boast of killing me, yet you can barely lift your blade." He appeared by her side before she could breathe. With a touch cold as ice, he brushed a lock of bloody hair behind her ear. "It's a wonder you believe your brother and Hari ever cared for you at all."

(Y/n) froze, hands trembling around the hilt of her blade. She didn't need to hear this, not when her heart hammered against her chest and her face blanched. Blood trailed down her cheek, smearing as Kibutsuji cruelly stroked her skin. "In the end, we are nothing. We all die, and when that happens, who remembers us? No one."

(Y/n) faltered.

"Your brother was correct and you've begun to acknowledge it. You may be a Hashira, but as soon as you die, your name will be forgotten just as those before you. You were born lucky with a supernatural ability. You were born talented with the ability to learn quickly. You are a tool your 'loved ones' keep around for their use. That was, and still is, your only purpose in life."

Kibutsuji's grip loosened and he lifted his bloodied hands to his thin lips.

"A pawn, that is what you are, Chisaki (Y/n)."

--

(Y/n)'s eyes snapped open. She gripped the underside of her seat tightly, head spinning with nausea. The bus continued to lurch forward at a steady speed, every now and then rocking back and forth. She felt like throwing up. Her stomach ached and insides churning and spinning.

Outside, the trees passed as the class chattered away without a care in the world. It was ironic, really, how insignificant her worries were. How little she, as a being, mattered. (Y/n) heaved in a low breath, gaze falling to the window. All she wanted was to see Oyaji. If he weren't bedridden, he would have consoled her with a good word or two.

"That reminds me," --Ochako sent (Y/n) a quick glance-- "we've all been trying to figure out Chisaki-san's Quirk. I thought it was super strength at first, but Tsu-chan said it's probably something else like enhanced abilities." Bustling chatter rose in the bus, mixing into the already blossoming excitement.

A frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips. She opened her mouth to sprout some white-lie, but Kirishima turned to her with an enthusiastic grin. "I've been wondering too! Can't you tell us, Chisaki?" The lack of 'san' made her chest swell with a tinge of warmth. She glanced out the window, lips pursed. Now wasn't a good time for her to be around anyone. She feared she'd have a breakdown. "You'll soon see."

A cry escaped Kaminari's lips. He ruffled his blond hair in a furious fit, groaning and mumbling incoherently. "I've been trying to guess for the last ten minutes and everyone says I'm definitely wrong. Please, please, can't you tell us?!" (Y/n) turned to the group, scanning their wide-eyed expressions. Why so eager? It was just a Quirk, and it wasn't like anyone knew Midoriya's crazy finger-breaking power anyway.

"You'll find out during the rescue." (Y/n) pursed her lips together. "Perhaps. I don't believe it's a necessary thing I will need, though." There was another cry, this time from Ashido. She pouted, crossing her arms grumpily. "Geez, you're being so difficult, Chisaki-san!"

She raised a brow in confusion, blinking. It really wasn't that big of a deal. "Am I?"

"Yes!"

"I've been guessing like crazy, too!"

"Same! Can't figure it out though..."

The bus came to a slow stop at a large dome-like facility. It gleamed under the sun's bright rays, casting the surrounding trees and pavements in its shimmering light. As Iida called for everyone to file into a neat line, (Y/n) lingered at the back of the bus, eyes distant. Far away to a horizon she couldn't even see.

The dome was larger the closer everyone walked towards it. (Y/n) would have craned her neck to get a good look at the large panels and doors, but her mood had dampened significantly.

The inside seemed even bigger since the ceiling curved into a dome.

The Space Hero, Thirteen, greeted everyone with an overview of the facility's different biomes. From wetlands to mountains and jungles, they had it all. As someone pointed out, this place really did live up to its name, U.S.J. (Universal Studios Japan--even though it was actually called the 'Ultimate Space for Jams').

Down a long flight of about seven to ten flights of stairs stood a large plaza with a fountain. It bubbled and glimmered in the afternoon sunlight, casting little stars of light across the tiled pavement. Beyond that were the various biomes Thirteen described.

All Might was nowhere to be seen. According to Aizawa, he was supposed to be the third teacher directing this exercise, yet was nowhere to be seen. (Y/n) vaguely wondered if All Might got caught up in something, but the thought soon left her. She didn't really care right now and it seemed Aizawa thought the same. Every passing minute, he looked more disinterested.

"...your Quirks emphatically do not exist to hurt others!"

(Y/n) hadn't even realised Thirteen was still talking. Her mind kept wandering to Kai's words and how right he had been. It hurt, made her heart cold with pangs.

"....Please leave today's exercise having fully understood that your Quirks exist to help people!" Thirteen bowed theatrically, as if this were some Broadway Show in New York City. "That is all! You have my gratitude for listening so intently and patiently."

Ah yes, intently. (Y/n) already forgot what Thirteen had said during the lecture. Thankfully, Uraraka broke the quiet with an enthusiastic smile and round of applause. "That was awesome!" Iida joined in with a firm nod. "Bravo! Bravo!" Soon everyone else joined in and (Y/n) found herself mimicking them with half a heart. What were they all clapping for? She didn't know.

Aizawa shifted from his spot leaning against the railing. Those dead-fish eyes of his didn't seem to lighten even at the prospect of beginning the rescue exercise. "All right, first thing's first--"

There was a light fizzing sound like sparklers. Every alarm in (Y/n)'s system activated before she located the source. Her hands itched, feet already pulling into a defensive stance. She peered past Aizawa's shoulder and down at the plaza where the fountain still streamed and gurgled.

Black mist formed, curling until it formed a vortex that swirled like a whirlpool. It quickly expanded and thick throngs of people stepped out into the light. Some brandished baseball bats while others were armed simply with their Quirks.

"Everyone stay together and don't move!" Aizawa shouted. "Number Thirteen, protect the students!"

(Y/n) remained on the defensive, hands balled into fists. The first thing Akaza taught was how to strike before your enemy ever had the chance to begin. By doing so, you'd defeat them before they even had a chance to blink. It would have been easy if these were normal people.

But Quirks existed in this modern era where heroes and villains never saw eye to eye. (Y/n) had to keep everyone's safety in mind before she leapt head-first. One wrong move and she could jeopardize the lives of her classmates and teachers.

Kirishima placed a hand to his brow with a squint. "What is that? Is this like that training thing in the entrance exam?" (Y/n) would have laughed if her mind weren't working a thousand kilometers per hour. "Those are villains," she tiredly corrected. "This is not a drill."

The black vortex suddenly closed in on itself to form a shadow-like being. Yellow eyes cracked open, two beady orbs that zeroed in on the teachers. "Eraserhead and No. 13, according to the teacher's curriculum we procured yesterday--"

(Y/n)'s gaze narrowed.

"--All Might Sensei was supposed to be here and yet..."

Perhaps he was busy defeating some villains and that was why he was late? Whatever the reason couldn't be good, because all this spelled was trouble. (Y/n)'s expression hardened, golden eyes dark as night. She stared down the large gang of villains ever so clinically, passively. "The breach was them, then." What would they need All Might for? "And now we're bait? Lovely."

A frown twisted on Aizawa's face. It must have been embarrassing for him to realise a student had been more suspicious than him.

From the plaza, a rugged boy parted through the crowds like it were the Red Sea, shaggy hair swishing with every step he took. "Where is he...?" The boy's grainy voice echoed like a gong. "We went through all the trouble and brought so many of these guys along. You can't tell me the Symbol of Peace isn't here." He leaned back on his heels, throwing his head up to the sky to stare into the light. "I wonder if he'll show up if we kill the kids?"

(Y/n)'s numb mind suddenly awoke. A couple steps was all she needed to reach him in a fraction of a second, a moment's notice. She could strangle him to death, or simply snap his limbs to prevent him from moving. The boy must have been the one in charge here, with the mist man as his backup and mode of transport.

And if that were his purpose, setting off U.A.'s alarms off could have been an easy decoy, giving them both enough time to walk the halls (or teleport) without being caught by anyone.

"Get out of here!"

"What kinda idiot would believe villains could seriously infiltrate a hero base?"

(Y/n) ignored the shouted from the peanut gallery, focus trained on the throng of villains. There had to be at least a hundred of them, if not two hundred, all with a good variety of strength-based and mutant Quirks.

Yaoyorozu turned to No. 13, brows knitted in confusion. "Sensei, what about the intruder system alarms?" No. 13 shifted from foot to foot. "Of course we have some, but..."

They either were compromised, disabled by an insider, or curbed by the black mist man's Quirk. Regardless, they were prepared. There were enough villains to overwhelm the students and teachers, and even if they were defeated, that didn't mean the mist man couldn't summon more with his vortex.

(Y/n)'s shoulders stiff shoulders sagged in exasperation. "This is an isolated building a long bus ride from U.A. If these guys planned their scheme so painstakingly, then they must have some bigger goal for wanting All Might. Sensei, do you know if there is anything valuable at U.A. only All Might knows about?"

Aizawa's eyes flickered to red as he activated his Quirk. "Chisaki," his hair began to levitate, "now is not the time. Stay with your class." He inched towards the edge of the stairs. "No. 13, do the evacuation procedure and try calling the school! These villains know how to get around the sensors. There's a chance an electromagnetic Quirk is interfering! Kaminari, you too. Try contacting U.A. with your Quirk!"

The clock was ticking. Wasn't there something else to do besides become sitting ducks?

"Sensei!" shouted Midoriya. "Are you really going to fight them all alone? Even if you suppress them all with your Quirk, there's too many of them!" He paused, fear flooding his doe-like eyes. "The battle style of Eraserhead is to capture villains after erasing their Quirks!"

(Y/n) pursed her lips together. She knew exactly what to do, but she feared acting out would make matters worse. Being a student of U.A. meant she was a, well, student. Not a Hashira, not a so-called 'hero'. Nothing. Just a student.

Aizawa glanced at Midoriya behind his shoulder. "A hero always has more than one trick up their sleeves. No. 13, I'm counting on you!" He threw two ends of his scarves on either sides of the railings and jumped. In an instant, they grew taunt, swinging him down to the plaza like a ninja.

The students stood together anxiously, muttering among themselves and eyeing Aizawa worriedly. This was the future generation. Their experiences here would either make or break their launch to the career of Pro Hero. (Y/n) bit her lip. If anything, they should be able to handle themselves against any low-level thugs. She had to believe these children were strong enough on their own to deal with the worst-case scenarios.

As for (Y/n), student or not, she was a seasoned warrior. She knew the dangers of combat, the risks that came and stole away her friends. If these villains turned out to be more than they looked, they would steal her classmates as well.

"This is ridiculous." (Y/n) heaved out a breath in disbelief. "Iida-san!" He perked up, shoulders tensing in alarm. "Yes! Is something the matter, Chisaki-san?"

"Go back to U.A." She pointed to the doors. "You're the only one with a Quirk that relies on speed. We can't wait around and see if anyone can contact the school, you have to go there directly." A frown pulled at Iida's lips. He wouldn't have thought of that, not when they were all told to stay put.

"But Chisaki-san--"

(Y/n) gave his shoulder a pat. She had to be quick before the situation began to spiral our of control. "I'm sorry to give you orders off the bat, but we're all relying on you." She turned on her heel, but before she could take a step more, someone caught her shoulder.

"Wait!" Kirishima's eyes were blown wide, jaw agape. "You're not serious;y going to go down there, are you?" (Y/n) placed her hand over his and gave it a firm squeeze. Her hands were cold, firm. Eyes like liquid gold had long dulled, yet the more Kirishima looked, the more he saw. A flame that burned without daring to waver flickered, grew.

(Y/n) forced a brave face. She imagined it was the sort of expression Kyojurou or Mitsuri would have made if they were comforting a worried civilian. "Don't worry about me."

"But we do!" exclaimed Iida. "As your Class President--"

"You'll do your job to complete a mission only you can undertake." (Y/n) interjected. "Apologies for butting in like this, Thirteen Sensei. Please, pardon my insolence." She give Kirishima a firm look, then nodded towards Iida. With a Breath, she broke into a sprint and soared down the stairs into the plaza.

Chaos greeted (Y/n) with open eyes. She charged straight through the villains, knocking them down left and right by the dozen. They were slower than snails at her speed, much too sloppy to compete. She cleared a path towards Aizawa, who stood beside a growing pile of unconscious men.

"Chisaki," --Aizawa kicked a guy in the face-- "what the hell are you doing here?" She socked a villain in the jaw without a blink. "I gave Midoriya's advice to you some thought and I believe he has a point. Besides, one against over a hundred is far from fair."

Aizawa didn't have time to mull over her words. He threw out his scarf at a tall man and dragged him down with all his strength. "Get out of here," he dodged an uppercut, "it's not safe!"

"Of course it isn't." (Y/n) caught a man's fist and flipped him over her shoulder. The spikes along his spine cracked before sprouting out once again, breaking away the cement and trapping him in a crater. "Sensei," she kicked someone as if he were a stuffed animal, "now that I'm here, you can't send me back up those stairs. I could be ambushed and have my neck broken."

Cunning. That was the only word Aizawa could think of as he gave his scarves a firm tug. They knocked two villains into each other, sending them both flying a good two meters. He spared a glance back up at the platform, only to pause, heart slamming against his chest.

All his students were being sucked into that mist man's vortex, thrown somewhere across U.S.J. for the killing. The worry rolling off Aizawa's shoulders did nothing to break (Y/n)'s numb expression. She dodged a couple knives, knocked a gang of villains out, and sighed in irritation. These people just kept coming and coming.

"Sensei," --her eyes remained passive-- "have faith in your students. If they're our next generation, then there's no reason to think they'd be defeated so easily."

It was as if time had stopped. Faith? What would a young girl know about that in the midst of battle? Sure, (Y/n) was clearly skilled and strong, but did that justify her disinterest in caring for the well-being of her classmates? "You lack a sense of danger," Aizawa said through gritted teeth. "You're too relaxed about this!"

But hadn't (Y/n) always been? Since the first day of school where Aizawa told her to put more effort in, since she realised some of her classmates were stuck-up idiots, since she realised school wasn't as mentally taxing as seeing your friends die in front of your eyes was.

Adrenaline must have been getting to (Y/n)'s head, because she began to laugh. "To be fair, these guys aren't that strong, Sensei. Think of it as picking off flies." It was then that Aizawa realised she hadn't even broken a sweat. He felt himself stiffen, wondering how in the world a being like her existed.

By the time (Y/n) made it to the glistening fountain, nearly all the villains had been defeated. She dusted off her hands of imaginary dust, gaze slowly zeroing in on the boy with shaggy hair. He glared through thick tresses of periwinkle hair and a hand over his face, baring his teeth through chapped lips.

"You!" he seethed. "I knew you were trouble!"

(Y/n)'s gaze met the boy's and she paused, world quieting. The chaos began to settle, clearing static from her mind to shine out the clearer. This was the presence she felt the day of the breach, and those eyes, the ones that sent shivers trickling down her spine.

Ice. It coated (Y/n)'s passive expression as she stalked forward with the power of a thousand men. Anyone who dared step in her way fell face-first faster than one could blink. "I should have known my instincts would never betray me." Her voice boomed in the plaza, striking through the air like shards of ice. "Threatening to kill children. Who are you and what is it you want with All Might?"

The boy scratched at his neck frantically, as if it were the cause of all the issues thrown his way. "You shouldn't worry about me." He grumbled and mumbled more underneath his breath, blood red eyes widening. It was a sickening sight. A boy with hands covering his limbs and face, quickly losing to the boiling temper in his chest.

How could a human look so maddened? So tormented by his own miscalculations?

"There are bigger things to worry about." The boy's lips slowly rose at the ends.

No, not maddened. Elated.

The vortex appeared again, a swirling circle of black mist that expanded and grew with its traveler. A large beast emerged, each step out of the dark shaking the concrete beneath its feet. Cracks spider-webbed across the plaza, kicking up dust and rubble as the thing stepped into the light.

Crazed eyes that watered and focused on nothing yet everything, a large brain visible for any onlookers, a grin that stretched out far too wide to be considered natural--this was the closest thing to a demon (Y/n) had seen in the present. Whatever stood in front of her was not human. She sensed only death and the voices of victims trapped within, of tormented souls.

"Tell All Might," the boy began to choke on his own laughter, "that he's wanted by the artificial human, Nomu!"

(Y/n) felt sick. In the back of her mind, Kibutsuji awoke, hissing through his lair and pulsing back to life. She heaved, pulse quickening and heart hammering. That thing--it was made of many humans. She felt their cries, sensed their torment as the 'Nomu' scanned its surroundings in morbid curiosity.

From the corner of (Y/n)'s eye, she caught sight of Aizawa releasing his scarves towards the boy. Not an ounce of fear appeared on the boy's face. He reached out a hand, cackling in delight. "You both are so, so cool, you know that? But it's pathetic how you needed a student to save your neck, Eraserhead."

The nomu was...well...it was something. Just by looking at it, (Y/n) knew its speed, strength, and agility matched that of a Lower Rank Demon. If it wasn't intelligent on its own, then it would be easy to kill. No, no, not kill. She was now considered a hero-in-training, and those of that caliber did not kill. They defeated.

But would (Y/n) be of any use without her katana? All she had now was Overhaul, which wasn't as well trained as she wished it could be.

"What of it?" hissed Kibutsuji. "Make quick work of it. Being defeated by that 'Nomu' is an embarrassment."

A short sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips yet she remained rooted in place. She hated to admit it, but he was right. "I'm wasting my time," she muttered with a tut. Then why did she hesitate to use Overhaul? Why did she stand in place, at the ready?

"What's wrong, Chisaki-chan?" The boy's voice was like nails to a chalkboard, grating, unpleasant. "Backed into a corner? Just kill the Nomu, it'll solve all your problems!"

A tempting proposition, really. Especially since the boy dared to call her 'Chisaki-chan', a stupid use of the honorific Iguro and Sanemi used to tease her long ago.

(Y/n) narrowly leapt to her right, dodging a deadly blow from the Nomu. It was slow, but she had been distracted by the absence of Aizawa and the irritating voice of the boy. She continued to dodge, bounding around the Nomu as it pounded its fists into the concrete.

Behind her, the boy and Aizawa battled, fists against scarves. The match didn't seem to go in any particular direction until the boy caught Aizawa's arm. (Y/n) rolled out of the way of the Nomu just in time to see his arm crack and flake off like old paint from drywall.

"Sensei!" (Y/n) dragged a finger along the ground and a thick wall smacked straight between the two. As the Nomu raced forward, she kicked off against the ground and tackled the boy in an iron grip. "What sort of Quirk is that?" she demanded. "I don't take kindly to surprises."

The boy thrashed against (Y/n)'s iron grip. He was weak against her with his noodle arms. There was no way he could take her down unless--

The Nomu reared back and released a punch, sending both (Y/n) and the boy flying straight into the fountain. Her grip on his wrists loosened as the two tumbled into the cold water. It threatened to fill (Y/n)'s lungs as she turned to break to the surface, where sweet oxygen could counteract this burning in her chest.

The boy caught (Y/n)'s neck. "Damned Yakuza girl!"

Bubbles rushed to the surface as she hacked. The air had been knocked from her lungs and she needed to breathe. Yet the boy's scratched fingers kept squeezing tighter. Harder.

"You're more trouble than you're worth and you keep getting in the damn way!" The boy hauled (Y/n) up and shoved her back into the fountain. His dry, cracked fingers dug into her scalp, twisting her hair from the roots until she thought she might bleed. "How do you like that, Chisaki-chan? It's time you get a taste of your own medicine!"

The cold water made (Y/n)'s head go fuzzy with wandering thoughts of her Auntie. This was familiar. She remembered being dumped into a sink full of frigid water just to prevent the swelling of her beatings. "Stop struggling!" she'd shout. "This is what you get for being a bad girl!"

The thrum of blood filled (Y/n)'s ears as her heart pounded.

Thump. Thump.

She stopped fighting, eyes burning from the chlorine, searing like the pain in her heart.

"You're a worthless pig who thinks she can do and say whatever she fucking wants." Those words Auntie said so long ago still stung. And so (Y/n) stilled, heart hammering against her chest. Dead. She had to play dead to survive or else it would all end here in a cold bath of water where she would pass out and surely die.

"My daughter's too good to be friends with someone who will only grow up to be a hooker. That's what happens to women in the Yakuza, bitch. A dirty prostitute--a slave to some man--is all you'll ever be."

The world grew dark and (Y/n) remained patient. Her vision blurred, pulse slowing. At the very least, she wasn't a prostitute, at the best, she was a tool. A useless thing that was better off dead.

Suddenly, the boy yanked (Y/n) back to the surface. She sputtered and coughed, water sloshing over the edge of the fountain. "Who are you?" she spat out some water, the tangy taste of chlorine remaining on her tongue. Through the fuzziness of her vision and the ringing in her ears, she mustered the strength to remain standing. Remain victorious. "I'd like to know the names of those I've defeated."

The boy's red eyes narrowed, bubbling and boiling over with anger. He charged forward, hands outstretched. Gods, was fast for someone so scrawny and dull, but (Y/n) was faster. She caught him by the wrists, twisting both arms and bending them behind his head. The degree of his limbs was unnatural, and if he dared move under the knee she dug into his back, his bones would snap.

"Be a good boy," (Y/n)'s breath fanned across his ear as she leaned down, "and answer my questions."

"Let me go!"

"Who are you?"

"Let me go!"

(Y/n) dug her knee farther into the boy's back. Water dripped down her hair, glistening against the leaking rays of sun. She gave him a good shake, gaze narrowing as the hand over his face flew off. The boy's skin was just as cracked as as his hands, with cheeks still round with baby fat. How old was this guy? And who did he work for?

"No...!" The boy thrashed like a rabid animal. "Father!"

"Why are you here?" (Y/n) demanded. "Answer me!" The boy began to mutter incoherently under his breath, eyes wild as they bounced from her to the ground to the hand and back again. He made a sound that was like a dog being strangled. "I cleared the first levels," --he sounded as if he were far, far away-- "why can't I get to the boss?!"

(Y/n) tightened her grip on the boy's wrists. "Life isn't a video game, you can't compare your actions to levels." Her voice came out ragged, tight. She wasn't sure what to do when this boy wasn't listening to her. He tried to choke her, send her ten feet under just as Auntie had through various 'accidents'. Why spare his life? He threatened her classmates, hurt Aizawa Sensei, and craved for blood. If she ended his life now, perhaps it would prevent a tidal wave of future dangers.

"Kill him now." Kibutsuji commanded. "Do it."

(Y/n) placed a hand around the boy's neck, slowly digging her fingertips into his soft, dry flesh. Skin cracked under her nails, drawing blood across her hands. "Who are you?" There was not an ounce of mercy left in her liquid golden eyes. "Tell me or I crush your windpipe."

The boy hacked on air, sputtering and choking on spit. "S-Shigaraki...Tomura." (Y/n)'s grip didn't loosen. It tightened, forcing Shigaraki's gaze to meet her own as she towered above him. "You're too weak to be the leader of those misfits." She paused, eyes half lidded. "So whose pawn are you?"

Pinned to the cold concrete tiles, Shigaraki was trapped. "I'm not a pawn." he wheezed. "But you are, Chisaki (Y/n)." She frowned, stilling. Shigaraki couldn't move when her knee dug into his spine, threatening to crack it in two. His hands were bound behind his back as well, pressed together in her hold until purple bruises formed on his delicate skin.

Shigaraki couldn't have any more tricks up his sleeve. His accomplice (the mist man) had disappeared somewhere, and all he knew about (Y/n) was her name. But that was easy. He must have found it on the roster--

"Sensei told me to watch out for you," he gasped out. "He...also told me that you were working with someone of our common interest." A grimace rose to (Y/n)'s clinically passive expression. She schooled her features, kept them dark and cold. "What common interest? I don't work with hoodlums."

A strained laugh escaped Shigaraki's lips. He shook in (Y/n)'s hold, shoulders heaving. "Kibutsuji Muzan."

(Y/n) felt a chill down her spine.

"He's listening right now, isn't he?" The wide, toothy grin stretching out across his lips sent horrific shivers down (Y/n)'s spine. There was something about this boy, something terribly, horribly wrong that sent her mind for a whirlwind. Her grip loosened for a split second too long. In an instant, Shigaraki caught her wrist. He kept his pinky lifted. Was that his Quirk requirement?

"I'd use Decay on you, but Sensei said he wanted you in one piece."

(Y/n)'s mind refused to work. She limply fell to her knees as Shigaraki shoved her aside, hair sopping wet as he scooped up the discarded hand and set it over his face.

The seething whispers of Kibutsuji filled (Y/n)'s mind with static, growing like waves the longer she remained still as a statue.

"Kill him." Kibutsuji was growing impatient. "I'll have him as my first feast and he will contribute to my growing strength, just as you have, Little Ice Hashira."

"How...how do you know about that man?" She had to focus. Focus. Focus. But the voice in her head, the pale face along the horizon, filtered into her vision like the water dripping down her hair. "No one should know in this day and age. He's just...he's a bedtime story to scare kids."

Shigaraki must have been frowning because his face began to sag. "You don't seriously believe that do you?" His voice was grainy, like sand that rubbed against the soles of one's feet. "I thought the Ice Hashira would be smarter than this, but I guess you're just some teenager, huh? You look so scared right now even though I just said I'm not gonna hurt you."

But it wasn't Shigaraki (Y/n) feared. The blood lust filling her heart pumped like the adrenaline in her veins. A part of her threatened to spill Shigaraki's blood and flesh across the ground with a single tap of her finger, and it scared her.

"It will be glorious," Kibutsuji whispered. "Delicious."

Resist. Resist. (Y/n) had to resist the lulling call of her worst fear, her worst enemy. She hauled herself to her feet, heart hammering against her rib cage. "I don't fear you." The passive tone in her voice made Shigaraki's shoulders tense. "If anything, I'm much more terrified of what I could do before you even blinked."

The last thing Shigaraki saw were a pair of menacing golden eyes before he was shoved into the fountain.

Modern Era Secrets!

-Yushiro enjoys taking care of (Y/n). He feels it is the least he can do for her.
-Nezuko had always been especially fond of (Y/n) and her cooking
-Mitsuri and (Y/n) were prone to eating too many sweets on their off days. When a younger slayer commented on it and they got worried, Iguro reassured them saying it was fine to eat to your heart's content!
-Muichiro's favourite pass time was hanging out at (Y/n)'s house unannounced
-Muichiro and Kyojurou were the only Hashira who knew about (Y/n)+Akaza.
-Akaza broke (Y/n)'s katana during a duel once with his signature 'Bell Splitter' move. (Y/n) cried before remembering she could Overhaul it back together.
-Kirishima brings (Y/n) pastries whenever she helps him study for tests
-Kaminari brings candies instead
-Bakugou holds a grudge against (Y/n) for telling him off on the first day of school. He growls at her from afar.

Chapter Text

'I should not be left to my own devices
they come with prices and vices
I end up in crisis
Tale as old as time...'
-Anti-Hero, Taylor Swift

Shigaraki gasped and wheezed for air. The bad taste of chlorine filled his mouth as he coughed and coughed out water from his lungs. He couldn't move, not when (Y/n) kept his wrists in a tight grip as she shoved him back into the fountain. What the hell is wrong with this girl?, he thought. Dunking someone's head into water was essentially torture, and Shigaraki was a thousand percent sure no hero would approve of these methods.

But (Y/n) wasn't a hero. She was just her. A pathetic hashira, a demon slayer, a murderer--

"Why go through the trouble in planning this for All Might?" (Y/n)'s icy voice sent shivers down Shigaraki's spine. "I don't have the time to wait. Spit it out before I make you."

Before Shigaraki could speak, his head hit the water. This was going to get (Y/n) into trouble with anyone who lived in modern day Japan. It was a good thing Aizawa was preoccupied with the nomu. No hero would approve of such brutality because they understood the concept of mercy. Of peacemaking.

"No such luxuries existed in the Taisho Era." Kibutsuji monotonously noted. He appeared from the depths of (Y/n)'s mind, a disembodied voice that grew louder the more he awakened. "Your very name sent even demons fleeing for the mountains. Why waste such potential? Such power?"

(Y/n)'s jaw tensed. "Shut up," --she shoved Shigaraki into the fountain and he gurgled-- "I don't kill people." There was a hiss in the back of her mind, a loud snap that made her freeze. At the fountain's edge, Kibutsuji materialised into thin air. Very much real, very much alive. He frowned at the bubbles breaking the water's calm surface.

"You killed many before, including demons who were once human. Finish him now, he's nearly done for."

A wave of panic seared into (Y/n)'s skin and she yanked Shigaraki up hard enough to give him whiplash. He collapsed by her feet in a heap, periwinkle hair sopping wet against his eyes screwed shut. How long had (Y/n) kept him there? How much more would it have taken for her to actually kill him?

"I wasn't going to kill him." (Y/n) wasn't sure if she were stating fact or trying to convince herself. "He's still breathing. See? Look, he's breathing."

But what if he hadn't been?

Kibutsuji folded his arms, lips pursed into a look of distaste. "I've seen your memories, I know your Aunt tried to do the same to you." He stood, each step sharp and loud against the cracked concrete tiles. Puddles seemed to part against his impeccable loafers as he paused in front of (Y/n), gaze narrowing. "Acting virtuous does not discriminate against your sins."

Sins? No, no. (Y/n) wasn't...she wasn't trying to kill Shigaraki. All she wanted to do was gain information to whatever plot he had stitched together. How did a nobody like him have knowledge of Kibutsuji? Who was this 'Sensei', and what had created the nomu that Aizawa currently fought in this very moment?

A sinking feeling hit (Y/n)'s gut. It turned her insides out, tied them together with thorns, a hazard that made her chest tighten. "I'm not like you," --her voice cracked-- "and I'm not afraid of you or Shigaraki." Yet the more she thought about it, the more her mind began to stall.

Water dripped down (Y/n)'s dark locks, hitting the tip of her nose and sliding down her chin. She stared at the limp body at her feet barely writhing for breath. Words echoed in her mind like a broken record, repeating over and over again in that raspy, breathy voice of her new enemy.

"I'm not a pawn." Shigaraki had wheezed. "But you are, Chisaki (Y/n)."

Her mind ran back to the angry words she shouted to Yoriichi, the way tears threatened to fall from her eyes in frustration. "I'm not killing Shigaraki," she thickly stated. "Leave me alone."

As if on cue, he began to wheeze and hack out water from his lungs. (Y/n) grabbed a fistful of his hair and lifted his face to get a good look at those red, evil eyes. They were cloudy, unfocused with drowsiness and pain. "Have you come to a consensus? I'm sure your Sensei won't have to know about the information you give me. How do you know about Kibutsuji?"

Shigaraki spat out a mouthful of water, dousing (Y/n)'s face in both his spit and the scent of chlorine. She grimaced, golden eyes sharpening like icicles. "I don't have time for you." She firmly slapped him across the face. "Spit it out!"

Another cough ripped through Shigaraki's throat. He hung limply in (Y/n)'s hold, neck lolling at her call and beck. "I...should be winning right now," he rasped out. "I gathered all these guys and we even broke into U.A., but now you're making it harder for me...!"

(Y/n) slapped him across the face again, splaying droplets of lukewarm water across her wrist. "That's for threatening the students of 1-A."

"Shut...up!"

(Y/n) released her grip and watched Shigaraki fall on his side in a puddle with a yelp. He clawed at the hard ground, fingers twitching. "You think you're so...cool, Yakuza Girl? Just because you're a Hashira doesn't make you special. I've heard all about you. The merciless demon slayer taught by a demon...the hell is that even about?"

Something between a chuckle and a sigh escaped Kibutsuji's lips. He took a seat at the edge of the fountain again, gaze blank as a stone age tablet. "If your precious Oyakata-sama found out about your affair with Akaza, he would have you beheaded. Perhaps that may even be quite soon considering his reincarnation."

(Y/n)'s hands curled into fists and she stood, taller than a skyscraper, prouder than a lion. "Perhaps breaking a couple limbs will be more persuasive."

Shigaraki's bleary eyes widened. "Nomu!"

Before anyone could so much as blink, (Y/n) swiftly stepped behind Shigaraki. She was too quick for him to see, too slick to anticipate her chopping him on the neck. His eyes rolled back into his head, knees crumpling under his weight. (Y/n) caught him. She precariously tossed him down and he face-planted, but that wasn't the point.

The ground trembled, where rolling clouds of dust and debris filled the air in a grey screen. A cough escaped (Y/n)'s lips. She waved her hands around, ears ringing with the pumping of her blood.

The smokescreen suddenly parted, revealing the nomu as it waltzed forward. Faint voices began filling the air, a sound (Y/n) knew only she and Kibutsuji could hear. He spared a quick glance at her, brows knitted in irritation. "Get this over with."

"Chisaki, look out!"

(Y/n) side-stepped to the left just in time to see a humongous fist lodge itself in the ground. The dust began to settle, pooling around the Nomu that stood in all its horrific glory. The mean smile on its purple-ish face, the sneer that it gave to seemingly no one, and those beady, glossy eyes.

A shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine. What crazy scientist created this?

A pair of white scarves soared through the air with Aizawa in tow. He landed, rubbing at a wound on his elbow where muscle and skin peeked through. "Chisaki, what the hell are you doing?" He reeled in two thugs with his scarfs and knocked them into each other. "Get out of here. This thing's dangerous!"

(Y/n) wished she payed more attention to Hari and Kai during those lessons. Whatever Quirk Shigaraki had used on poor Aizawa, she wasn't sure how to fix. "Sensei, please stand back. I will handle the nomu, take this time to locate whoever is within our vicinity and bring them to safety."

A part of her hoped Aizawa would listen to logic and reason, but by the way he tugged on his scarves and activated his Quirk, he wasn't going anywhere. That was fine. (Y/n) could handle the nomu while he acted as support. He had an erasing Quirk after all, which would render whatever power the nomu had useless.

(Y/n) raced forward with a Breath and wound up a fist. The moment her fist connected with skin, the nomu hadn't moved an inch. "Shock absorption," she almost wanted to laugh at the irony, "to think I'd be stuck with this sort of thing again. It's like a demon."

"Yet here you are without a katana. And you call yourself a Hashira." Kibutsuji stood from his place by the fountain, gaze narrowing at the nomu. "Lose this match and I will ensure that Kirishima boy becomes my first meal the moment I take control of your body."

As if she'd allow that. Victory was on the horizon, so close (Y/n) could almost taste it. Yet as she wound up a fist and pounded into the nomu at speeds too quick for the eye to follow, her breath threatened to catch in her throat. The most logical option to keep this battle short and efficient was Overhaul.

One touch and the nomu would be nothing but a pile of organs, blood, and flesh.

Kibutsuji waltzed over to (Y/n)'s side and seized her wrist with cold, bony fingers. "Do it." He lifted her hand, guiding it towards the beast readying to snap her neck. "Save your classmates and your Sensei. Before they die as your friends did."

"You killed them." (Y/n) numbly muttered under her breath. The grip on her wrist tightened enough to crack her bones in two and she held back a wince. Kibutsuji leaned down, turning to peer into her wide golden eyes. "You are no hero, so don't start acting like one now."

(Y/n) heaved out a breath and side-stepped away from the nomu. She felt the strength in this artificial being, from bones to muscle, then skin and veins. Perhaps a bit of architectural rearrangement wouldn't hurt. Just this once (even if death would have been kinder).

Kibutsuji guided (Y/n)'s hand to the nomu's arm. She activated her Quirk. There was a sickening crack, then an uncomfortably loud squelching sound as blood burst from the nomu's arms. (Y/n)'s gaze remained focused, cold, as she let her hand fall to her side. Kibutsuji released her wrist, expression never once changing.

The nomu collapsed on its side limply, those beady eyes wide and unblinking as (Y/n) stared it down with no empathy in her veins. Once upon a time ago, she would have felt a little bad for its misfortune, but years of facing death at its doors hardened her heart, forced conscience to the back of her mind.

Yet the back of (Y/n)'s mind could only blame the Demon King who stood beside her. Very much real, very much alive yet not, as he witnessed the nomu crumple in on its broken limbs painted red.

Killing the beast would have been kinder. So much kinder. Why allow it life when it could do nothing but follow orders given by its master? Someone had tampered with life and Frankeinstein-d the nomu from nothing. And for all anyone knew, the nomu could have been a kidnapped civilian held against their will.

Where was the HPSC when this went on behind closed doors? Where were the heroes who basked in cameras and glory? Those who were said to save society, not break it?

(Y/n) reached out a hand, touch firm and stiff against the hard skin of the nomu. Agony brewed under its blank eyes, tens of cries that left her heart hammering sharply. This was not human. At least, not anymore. Whoever made this thing turned it into a weapon of war and nothing more. It had little intelligence, little incentive besides the orders it received from its master.

Kibutsuji was right. The only path to victory today was in death. And truly, it was an act of mercy, of care and kindness. Why live to only be a slave? Why remain when you could simply pass away?

(Y/n) imagined the Fourth Form of Ice Breathing. If she had her katana, this death would be painless and quick--just as the name, Winter's First Snow, suggested. "It will be swift." she stated. "That I can promise."

There was a firm pair of footsteps, heavy yet tense. "Chisaki," --Aizawa staggered over with a grimace-- "don't use your Quirk!" Her hand slowly fell to her side, golden eyes wide and alert. She told him to go already, yet here he uselessly stood, pretending like he wasn't limping and bleeding from a terrible head wound that could have cost more than his life.

A prick of guilt made (Y/n)'s resolve waver. Blood trickled down Aizawa's forehead as he heaved, teeth gritted painfully tight. He wouldn't have gotten so hurt if she had been more efficient. Instead, she took her time, lost behind past memories and words that shouldn't have cut so deep.

"You're hurt because of me." (Y/n)'s voice cut through the air like a blade to ice. "As long as the nomu lives, we are all in danger." A flicker of...something rushed across Aizawa's face. That usual deadpan look curled into anger and fear, not of the beast that could have taken his life, but of what (Y/n) could do. He caught her shoulder, giving it a squeeze with whatever strength he could muster. "You've done enough."

No, not enough. Simply the bare minimum. "We can't be sure the nomu doesn't have other Quirks. If it regenerates, we will all die."

"If it could, it won't. I'm using my Quirk." Aizawa hadn't blinked once, eyes illuminating in a burning crimson. "Leave it, someone'll come to extract us and your classmates soon, understood?"

Soon wasn't fast enough. What if everyone was dead by then? What if they had all been captured and held for ransom by that black mist man? (Y/n)'s lips pursed into a thin line, heart continuing to hammer and pulse within her chest rapidly. "I can't take any chances." There was a pang in her chest, a frantic haze of old memories of bodies and blood and cries that left her heart crying in pain. "Someone could die and it would only be because I left loose ends open."

Aizawa frowned deeply, as if disturbed. "So you'd kill in order to save others."

(Y/n) thought of the blood on her nichirin, the apologies she sprouted after killing a demon, the way she prayed for the victims to cross over. She felt the weight of a head in her beaten palms, the soft, gentle touch of a kiss to her lips.

"No," --she was a liar-- "I wouldn't kill to save others."

A tight sigh escaped Aizawa's lips that twisted his face into a scowl. "I want you to think about what you did." He gave (Y/n)'s shoulder a light push and forced her gaze down to the beast at her feet. "This makes you no better than the League of Villains."

"No," Kibutsuji refuted. "It makes you a warrior."

The nomu writhed and gnawed its teeth, heaving and huffing on its own swollen tongue. Its limbs, twisted far beyond repair, kept cracking until bone and muscle began to rip past its skin, exposing the rawness that was this thing (Y/n) knew needed mercy.

But where was her mercy? Her end line when it came to enemies destroyed by her hand? (Y/n)'s gaze found Shigaraki's body. He lay unconscious, forced into a world of darkness by only the rugged hands of the Ice Hashira herself.

"You should have listened to me." Kibutsuji stared straight through (Y/n)'s soul, through her mind and everything she clung dear to. "Little differentiates us from monsters. You and I are the same."

The same? Was this who (Y/n) was to become? Corrupted and overtaken by the very force she only hated? Blood rushed through her ears, a sound like water trickling from a melting icicle. Down, down, down until it hit the pavement, forgotten to the puddle that swallowed it whole. "Sensei," she forced the words past her throat, "you were hurt. You could could have died."

"And? Your methods are unacceptable, Chisaki." Not an ounce of sympathy laid in Aizawa's voice. Maybe it was divine retribution, fate even, for the lack of mercy (Y/n) gave to those she fought. "What makes you think nearly drowning someone okay? Villain or not, you could have taken lives today. I'd lecture you, but your classmates could be in danger. Go to the main entrance and wait there. Follow me and you'll have detention for the next two weeks."

The hard look in Aizawa's eyes could never compare to the disappointment from Kyojurou whenever (Y/n) wasn't taking care of herself. Yet somehow, a cold pit weaseled its way into her heart. Was she a monster? The same as the demons slain by her blade?

Aizawa had already began to jog away, probably towards some far corner of U.S.J.

Anywhere away from here.

Away from her, the true villain in this crooked story.

A twitch in the back of (Y/n)'s neck made her jolt. Her body reacted faster than her mind could turn. She firmly caught a hand and flipped someone over her shoulder.

Shigaraki hacked and wheezed in pain. He crawled to his feet with another cough, shoulders heaving. "You...really are a monster...more than nomu. I was quiet, you shouldn't have been able to...react." There was an unsettling glint in Shigaraki's eyes, an aura of fierce hatred that bubbled like lava. "I'm pretty mad that it lost, but it's funny seeing how out of hand you got. You could've killed it, you know that, (Y/n)?"

Her veins seared with fire. "Don't speak so familiarly with me." Shigaraki huffed, shoulders slouched forward as he wobbled to his feet. He teetered this way and that, threatening to topple over into the pool behind. The water rippled at its surface, where a head of green broke up for air. Another followed, revealing both Midoriya and Asui.

"What's with that look on your face?" Shigaraki demanded. "I'm right about you. Don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about." (Y/n)'s expression was rock solid. Great, now she had two Kibutsujis. "You still haven't told me why you're interested in All Might."

Shigaraki scoffed. "Isn't it obvious? The Number One Hero has enemies across the entire nation. Why else would anyone wanna attack him? I went through all the trouble of getting these nobodies to help, so yeah, I should be winning."

That sounded like BS. Whoever convinced or ordered Shigaraki to come here either manipulated him into doing so, or brainwashed him into thinking he was doing something great. He had said something about 'Sensei'. Perhaps a mentor, or a father figure whom he looked up to?

(Y/n) slowly retreated back towards the fountain. Anywhere away from the edge of the pool, away from Midoriya and Asui who could potentially die at the hands of Shigaraki's Quirk. He followed, dragging his feet along. "Where do you think you're going, huh? Did you lose all your confidence now that I know what's wrong with you?"

There was something about that sentence that struck a chord within. (Y/n) paused, hands stiff at her sides. "What do you mean?" Shigaraki shrugged in disinterest. "You have a brother right? What's he like? I wasn't able to find out much besides the fact that you share the same Quirk, but I'm curious now. How did someone like you end up in U.A.--"

(Y/n) stepped forward and pinned Shigaraki down to the cold, damp tiles. She dug her hands into his neck, squeezing just enough to block a steady airflow into his lungs. "I wouldn't venture there if I were you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, barely above a snarl. "Answer my question."

"Or what?" Shigaraki seethed out. "You can't kill me. You're a hero with the attitude of a villain." (Y/n)'s grip tightened by a fraction. A villain? No, no. She was much worse, much more foreboding because of the demon residing deep within. "I have my methods."

Kibutsuji scoffed as a grin rose to Shigaraki's lips, wide and eerie. "Methods used kill. You're not a normal person, Chisaki. How many died because of you?"

How many? Gods, (Y/n) didn't want to know. Images of blood, sounds of screams--they repeated in her head over and over and over. She swallowed it down, firmly stamped it to ash. "Take your men, the nomu, and leave." (Y/n) released Shigaraki and stood. "All Might isn't coming, he's likely caught up in hero work."

Behind Shigaraki, Midoriya and Asui hurried behind a pile of rubble. They ducked beside it, a mere meter away from where Shigaraki stood. He hadn't noticed them yet when his eyes were for (Y/n) only. She continued towards the fountain and away from the pile of rubble. What were those kids doing? They should have just stayed put in the pool! "Violence is violence," --it was time to buy time-- "yet I choose not to go around threatening to kill children as you have."

"So you're saying I'm wrong for wanting justice?"

(Y/n)'s brows raised in bewilderment. "Justice?" From the corner of her eye, she saw Midoriya point to her left. He frantically made wild motions, mouthing words 'nomu'. "There's no justice in deciding to murder innocents. Besides, you act like you're twelve because All Might didn't show up--"

The air turned cold, the temperature dropping with (Y/n)'s heart rate. She Breathed deeply, allowing oxygen to fill her system as the ground began to tremble. The nomu began to stand, those broken limbs torn and shredded twisting back into place.

Where was Aizawa? Surely he wouldn't have died...

...right?

Shigaraki scratched at his neck. "All heroes think the same because of their savour complex. Can't people see? It's all fake!" He paused, heaving out a harsh sigh. "You're different though, Chisaki. I guess you're even a bit cooler than Eraserhead, but you're annoying. That nomu's supposed to be as strong as All Might. How the hell are you still standing?"

"How the hell are you still standing?" (Y/n) retorted with a grimace. "I shouldn't have gone so easy on you." A grin stretched across Shigaraki's chapped lips. "Ah? That so?" He laughed and it was raspy and empty. "Nomu."

In an instant, the beast rounded on Midoriya and Asui. It lifted its great fist, rearing back as (Y/n) willed her body to move. Move. Move--

I won't make it!, she thought.

It was over. Oh, it was all over. Aizawa was gone and Midoriya's Quirk only broke his fingers while Asui couldn't possibly hope to hold her own in strength. (Y/n) slammed a hand to the ground. Spikes rose like budding flowers, and moments before impact, it knocked the nomu back by a good two meters. She sprinted forward, tapping the ground again to form four walls around Shigaraki in a cage.

"Seriously?" He tapped the walls. "You're messing up my plans!" The walls began to crumble around him in ash. He stepped around it, dusting off his black shirt with a sneer. "You're damn annoying. I was supposed to kill them."

(Y/n)'s cold eyes met his and a shiver ran under his skin. She dodged another punch from the nomu, gaze never once breaking. She felt Shigaraki's fear, nearly smelled it through the stale air as she threw out a hand towards the beast. It was time to put it to rest.

"Checkmate." (Y/n) curled her hand into a fist. At the last second, Midoriya jumped out from behind the rock and shouted something with a punch.

It hit its mark, spreading dust into the air.

(Y/n) felt her heart skip a beat. She watched with wide eyes as the bones in Midoriya's fist began to bend and snap on impact. Every crunch, every muscle tear, was all for nothing because the nomu had shock absorption. "Midoriya!" she shouted. "Stop!" She caught him by the back of his gym uniform and yanked him behind her. "Your Quirk is dangerous, do you understand how much of a liability that is? You're lucky it was only your hand!"

A world of hurt flashed on Midoriya's face. A world of words he wanted to spew but couldn't when his heart hammered with nerves. "I--you were going to--I just didn't want--"

"I appreciate the gesture," (Y/n) tried to soften her hard voice, "but stay back. I don't want anyone else hurt." There was enough bloodshed she witnessed for a lifetime. Kibutsuji's constant presence hovering over her shoulders today wasn't helping either. She couldn't find it within herself to play nice, to stay merciful when her life was anything but that.

A loud crash echoed from the front doors of U.S.J. In a blinding light, All Might walked through the front entrance, dust rolling off his shoulders. He sported a white shirt and that ugly pair of yellow-striped trousers he wore to school twice a week.

"Have no fear," his voice reverberated with anger, "for I am here!"

Relief made (Y/n)'s shoulders sag. Thank the gods and whatever up there was good and great. This type of fight wasn't up her alley. The job of a demon slayer was to finish the job efficiently, all while ending the lives of their enemies. If this dragged on any longer, the final verdict would be in cold blood.

"All Might!" cried Mineta. Tears sprung from his eyes as he wailed. When did he get here?

From a pile of ash and crumbled bits of concrete, Shigaraki staggered forward. "We were waiting for you, trash of society." His focus zeroed on All Might, the real target that should have been here nearly an hour and a half ago.

(Y/n) motioned for her classmates to get moving. "Hurry up," --she glanced at the nomu; it had stilled-- "All Might will handle the rest!"

As if on cue, All Might charged down the stairs, shoving the last of the low-life villains who stood in his way. He scooped a limp body on the way, gently cradling it as he stopped in front of (Y/n). "I apologise for not coming sooner," --All Might laid the body down tentatively-- "head to the entrance, you four! I have to leave Eraserhead with you as he's unconscious."

(Y/n) knelt down and brushed some hair away from Aizawa's bloody face. His left eye was swollen and his cheeks were covered in bruises and scratches. That arm that looked like it crumbled apart bled, and with the amount of dirt in the air, was bound to get infected.

Seeing Aizawa so vulnerable made it hard to recognise him. "Leave him to me, All Might Sensei." (Y/n) slung Aizawa around her shoulders, grip soft yet firm. "Get moving, everyone. We'll only get in the way if we stay."

There was a dry, humourless chuckle that sent a shiver down (Y/n)'s spine. She hated how cold the air felt, how loud her senses begged at her to kill, kill, kill.

"You're leaving already?" Shigaraki inquired. "Ah, I'm sorry, it's because you don't want to attract attention to yourself, right? All Might's pretty fast, were you intimidated that he's stronger? Still, you're faster (Y/n). Even though you didn't throw a lot of punches, you dodged everything." He paused, voice lowering. If (Y/n) weren't standing so close, she wouldn't have heard.

"Could it be that our intel is true...?" A dark look fell over Shigaraki's face. "...about how you're weakening, All Might?"

(Y/n)'s jaw tensed. All Might, weakening? For as long as she could remember, he was the Number One hero. A force to be reckoned with, an unbeatable being high upon his pedestal. If that were true, what would become of this society that relied on him for hope? Peace?

"All Might, stay back!" cried Midoriya. "That villain with the brain! One For--I mean, when I punched him it wasn't enough power to break my arm but he still didn't budge! Chisaki-san said it has shock absorption!" All Might only smiled and flashed a peace sign. "Midoriya, my boy, it's alright! And Chisaki, thank you for holding out for so long."

(Y/n) paused, frowning. There was nothing to thank her for. Not when fear plastered onto the faces of her classmates. They shook in their shoes, eyes wide with terror. Future heroes or not, they were still children. Young, lively, impressionable children ignorant to the horrors of death and despair.

Not like the Taisho Era. Not like Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Kanao, and so many others. (Y/n) recalled their faces, the darkness that plagued their hearts.

"Leave him be, Midoriya," she stated. "All Might can handle himself, there's nothing we should worry about." And even if there were, (Y/n) knew she could handle it. She glanced up at All Might, whose smile didn't fade, and turned to motion to her classmates. "Get a move on, Aizawa Sensei needs medical attention."

A hand connected with (Y/n)'s shoulder and she turned to meet All Might's gaze. "Thank you, Chisaki Shojo. I mean it."

Her gaze averted to the nomu. If she were still an idiotic ten-year old, then maybe she would have squealed about being in contact with the Number One Hero. "Your opponent was apparently made to match your strength. The only way to defeat it is to subdue or kill it. I will watch over these three and Sensei, don't pay us any mind."

A curious shine reflected in All Might's eyes. Before he could speak again, (Y/n) broke into a sprint, ushering her classmates along. There were shouts of 'CAROLINA SMASH' and a tremble that shook the entire building. No matter what chaos ensued, she continued onward, heart heavy. There was something about what Shigaraki said that left her mind reeling.

A loud snap echoed in the depths of (Y/n)'s mind and Kibutsuji materialised from thin air. "All Might is human. You can't expect him to last forever." He jogged at a pace that matched (Y/n)'s. "You could have finished the nomu and avoided this mess, yet are trapped inside your own head and refuse to acknowledge it."

Again, Kibutsuji was right. Why did he have to be so smart for being one of the worst beings in existence?

All Might was human and humans died. Easily. Simple as that. The nomu was made to match him in strength, yet by the sounds of it, held its own well. Mineta 'ooo-ed' and 'ahhh-ed' at the fight behind, eyes wide with admiration, but all (Y/n) felt were the dredges of anticipation.

"Since when did backdrop slams become so explosive?" Mineta demanded. He chewed at his gloved fingers, eyes wide as saucers. "All Might really is a world away from us!"

But he was human.

"Though when it comes to teaching," Asui cut in, "he's still a beginner who reads off cue cards."

Quirk or not, the risks and stakes kept rising to the heavens. (Y/n) peered over Kibutsuji's shoulder, heart racing. Rubble and dust flew into the air, casting a screen of grey powder across the battlefield. A single punch from All Might cleared it all away in an instant, yet as it rolled and settled, (Y/n) realised what horrors awaited.

The nomu hadn't moved once.

"What's wrong, Chisaki-san?" Midoriya peered over her shoulder, sweat trickling down his brow. There was a gentleness in his voice, a sweet care that took (Y/n) back to the times she spent with Tanjiro. She averted her gaze to the battle, grimacing. "Keep moving, we don't want to get in the way."

Kibutsuji watched with mild distaste as (Y/n) continued on. By her quickened stride and the way her golden eyes clouded over, he knew her thoughts consumed her. Every word, every scenario mapped out and thought, he heard. "Don't make that revolting face. None of this would have happened if you finished off Shigaraki and nomu."

"I know," (Y/n) said under her breath. "I know." Just like how she felt the gazes of her classmates. They kept staring at her, watching as she mulled over the next course of action. Asui placed a finger to her chin with a blink. "You're amazing, Chisaki-san. I wouldn't be able to carry Sensei on my own like that."

"Is that so?" (Y/n) didn't know what else to say. "He's not that heavy, don't worry."

Mineta's eyes widened. "Eh?! Even after playing around with that nomu, too? What are you, some kind of monster?" (Y/n) pursed her lips. Yes, was what she wanted to say, but the only thing that came was a numb shrug. "Perhaps."

Midoriya frowned and chewed at the inside of his cheek. "I wish I could have helped," --he sounded too much like Tanjiro-- "but all I did was cause you trouble--"

"No." (Y/n)'s voice turned cold. She didn't want to think of that sweet boy she called a little brother, or his sister whom she defended with her life. "Don't wish for anything different. As you all are, you would be no match for the Nomu or Shigaraki Tomura. They are above your level, there is nothing anyone can do to change that right now."

Midoriya froze in his step, brows knit. His eyes glossed over with tears and his lip began to tremble. Then there was a flicker of light--the same kind she saw on the first day of school.

Hope.

Midoriya broke into a sprint. From beside All Might, the black mist man materialised. Nomu's body split in two, one half in the vortex, and the other beside All Might. (Y/n)'s eyes widened. Not good. Not good. Not good. "Midoriya!" she cried. "Were you even listening to me?!"

He sprinted through the plaza, screaming All Might's name as if he would disappear. There was no time to think, no time to plan or act. Lives were in danger, and like hell (Y/n) would let them slip through her fingers. She dumped Aizawa into Asui and Mineta's arms and broke into a sprint. "Get him up the stairs!"

"Wait, what?!"

"Just do it, you two!" (Y/n) raced passed the pool and back towards the fountain. What was with kids and being so unpredictable these days? Whenever she saved civilians, all they did was stay in one spot or run away and cry. Yet here Midoriya ran, racing headfirst into a battle he would die trying to fight in.

From behind the fountain, a flurry of explosions lit up the plaza. "Outta the fucking way," --Bakugou sped past Midoriaya-- "Deku!"

The mist man burst into a collection of black wisps. Bakugou reacted in the fraction of a second, slamming his burning palm down into the metal thing (that could have been considered the 'physical' body) and pinning the mist man to the ground.

Todoroki followed after, a sea of ice trailing underneath his feet. "I heard about you bastards' scheme to kill All Might." To his left, Kirishima charged forward. He threw a fist at Shigaraki, but the man dodged at the last second.

"Shit!" cried Kirishima. "I had him!"

Bakugou glared down the mist man with an angry grin pulling to his lips. "No funny business out of you, shadow-ass!" Off to the side, Todoroki stood tall. His ice had spread to the Nomu, locking it in place so All Might could slip out of its grip. "The Symbol of Peace won't go down as easy as you clowns."

Midoriya's eyes glossed over. "You guys...!"

No matter how touching this moment was, (Y/n) couldn't dwell a minute longer. She waltzed through the battlefield, gaze zeroing straight on Shigaraki's. His red eyes narrowed, glowing cruel with hatred. "You've pinned down our gate. Well now...this is really a pinch."

Bakugou shoved the mist man into the concrete and (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a little satisfied. "Just as I thought, this prick was never all that sharp," he stated. "That bit on your body you use to get all misty and warp-gatey just got sealed, motherfucker! You gonna tell me you use that warp gate to hide your true body?! Huh?!" A wide smirk grew on his lips. "If shadowy mist were your true form and you actually had no body, then why did you call those attacks from All Might 'dangerous'?!"

(Y/n) didn't have any idea what he was talking about, but she could assume what it meant. The mist man could be defeated and pinning him down by the metal armor-like structure kept him from warping. She continued forward, steps silent as the night. "You're cornered, Shigaraki."

He folded his hands together with a sigh. "And you're all pretty much unscathed. Man, I have to hand it to the kids these days... At this rate, the League of Villains will be a laughing stock! Nomu, go ahead and finish off Explosion Boy. We're rescuing our revolving door."

Not on (Y/n)'s watch. She broke into a sprint, steps lighter than falling snow. She reached out a hand, the other curling into a fist.

"Chisaki!" cried Kirishima. "Look out!"

(Y/n) took a step and pushed off to her right. The nomu slipped out of a vortex, its fist lodging deep into the ground where she stood moments ago. (Y/n) landed and tapped a hand to the floor, gaze focused on the wall of spikes sprouting at impossible speeds. "It's people like you I hate the most," --another wall of spikes erected, forcing nomu away from the vortex-- "threatening children. Hurting people."

"Like you did to me?" Shigaraki inquired with a laugh. "You tried to drown me! Don't talk like you're some righteous hero when you're nothing but a murderer."

"Shut up!" shouted Kirishima. "Don't talk about Chisaki like that!"

Shigaraki laughed again and this time, mirth sparkled in his red eyes. "Here I thought you were a loner, Chisaki. Guess you just act like one, huh?" He scratched at his neck in dismay. "Nomu is a human sandbag artificially crafted to the height of physical perfection in order to withstand All Might's one hundred percent. You might've been able to dodge, but you can't win. It's a lost cause!"

The words barely registered in the back of (Y/n)'s mind. The lives of her classmates, Sensei who lost more blood than he should have, and those beady, bleary eyes of nomu. She glanced at All Might, who held his bleeding side with a heave. That smile never left his lips, but (Y/n) knew better--felt it in her bones. His time as Number One was coming to an end.

(Y/n) continued pushing the nomu back, forming a path towards the pool in a cage. Anywhere away from Bakugo and All Might, as long as she could subdue it until reinforcements arrived.

"Kill it!" Kibutsuji growled. He appeared beside (Y/n), blood red eyes narrowed into slits. "Kill it now!"

(Y/n)'s focus broke and she stood, hands trembling. She heaved out a strained breath, gaze colder than ice. "Don't tell me what to do," she seethed. "I'm not killing--"

"That boy over there is going to die."

Concrete and rubble flew across the air, spraying dust and little particles into a smokescreen. (Y/n) lifted her haori to cover her eyes and tapped the ground again. Who was going to die? She couldn't see a thing as she commanded the ground to bend to her will. A wall rose, blocking large chunks of debris from smashing her in two.

"Too slow, Little Ice Hashira."

(Y/n) didn't wait for the dust to clear. She disassembled the wall and sprinted forward, gaze zeroing on the nomu speeding towards Bakugo. She wouldn't make it in time to psuh it back, even with Overhaul to create another wall of spikes. With a Breath, she opened her arms and tackled Bakugo out of the way. The nomu's fist narrowly grazed the mist man before landing, cracking the concrete tiles.

I was right on time, (Y/n) thought.

"Yes, out of luck." Kibutsuji retorted.

(Y/n) plopped Bakugo on his feet beside Midoriya and jumped straight into the crossfire. All Might was thrown back in the fight, stuck in a stalemate between the mist man and the nomu.

The word 'demon' echoed in the back of (Y/n)'s mind, a constant reminder of the emotionless, vacant eyes of Kibutsuji with a smooth voice like oil. The nomu couldn't compare to that horror, not when it was engineered and patched together as nothing more than a mindless lapdog. She gritted her teeth, slamming a hand into the ground. A thick wall of spikes formed, creating a barrier around the students to separate the students from All Might's fight.

Dirt and dust and smoke rose from the rubble. (Y/n) coughed on the filth, hacking out the dirt from her lungs. She emerged, rolling waves of grey smoke and dust settling by her feet. "Surrender."

Shigaraki slouched further into himself. "You ran away with Eraserhead when All Might came. Why'd you come back if you're not gonna kill anyone? Because you felt bad?" A cold frown fell upon (Y/n)'s face, unfeeling, clinical. "There's a time and place for everything. Any strategist would understand."

The ground seemed to tremble under the heavy weight of (Y/n)'s presence. She strode toward Shigaraki, air crackling like a bonfire in the wintertime. "Call off nomu."

"Sure, sure...!" Shigaraki's teeth shone in a snarl. "Because if I don't, you'll kill me, right, Chisaki? The way you look at me almost makes me feel a bit sad. We're not really that different, right?" Every fibre in (Y/n)'s being wanted to rip this man to bits, but she wasn't like him. She had self control. A conscience.

"Or so you believe," Kibutsuji whispered into her ear. "You tried to drown Shigaraki."

And what of it? Not like (Y/n) was actually going to kill him. Just a little bob under the water wouldn't do him any harm she couldn't fix. Besides, he threatened to kill her classmates--mere children--along with All Might, the Symbol of Peace. If this scheme somehow revolved around bringing instability to society, then it had to end here.

Kibutsuji's gaze bore into the side of (Y/n)'s face. He kept appearing at the worst times, the worst moments that made her so helpless. "The one thing I hate is change." His breath fanned across her neck. "Something that does not remain the same is imperfect, unworthy of remaining. If this society falls, then it's only the fault of its weakest links."

Links that this world refused to correct and mend. (Y/n)'s expression hardened like ice. "Even if I was a villain, I'd have the conscience to not involve innocents in my line of work." She appeared before Shigaraki within a fraction of a second, golden eyes illuminating dangerously in the sun. "Regardless, making an enemy out of me was a poor decision."

Shigaraki threw out a hand, fingers tensed to turn whatever it touched to dust. (Y/n) caught his wrist and wound it behind him. He fell to his knees with a cry, teeth gritted. "See what I mean? If you had the chance, you'd kill me! What's so heroic about that, Yakuza Girl?" With his free hand, he began to scratch at his neck with a seethe. "Now listen here, All Might! I'm ticked off! We're all categorized as either heroes or villains, but who gets to decide right and wrong?"

(Y/n)'s grip tightened. "Violence only breeds more violence, who cares about right and wrong, Shigaraki?" She dug a knee into his back and shoved him to the ground. "I won't stand for more bloodshed."

Shigaraki twisted and turned in her grip, rolling to his side to get a good look at her darkened expression. "Why?" There was an unnatural shine in his red eyes. "Because you were the cause for killing off the Demon Slayer Corps?"

"Shut up." (Y/n) stamped a foot into his side and he writhed in pain. "You know nothing."

"I know you're...a pawn in these Heroes' game. You need to wake up before they toss you aside!" He paused and lifted his head to glare at All Might. The fight raged on, crossing through the fountain and over towards the pool. "And All Might, the 'Symbol of Peace'? Give me a break. You're nothing more than a shadow of oppression yourself. Even Chisaki said it, violence only breeds more violence! Once we kill you, that'll be made known to the world!"

There was a deep hatred, a painful bitterness, that ripped through Shigaraki's raspy voice. A part of (Y/n) wondered what made him this way, what forced him to lose his humanity.

"You are too merciful." Kibutsuji spat. "Kill him and be done with it!"

"I'm not killing him." (Y/n) heaved through gritted teeth. "I can't." Kibutsuji's hand landed on her shoulder, a touch that made the colour drain from her face. "You underestimate my power over you, a mere vessel. Do as I say before I devour him whole."

The itching urge to Overhaul Shigaraki's guts spread throughout every fibre of (Y/n)'s being. Her fingertips twitched with the mere thought, unconsciously reaching towards the katana that should have been at her hip. Killing would be so easy, so efficient. Just a mere touch, a mere thought and it would all be over in the blink of an--

"No." (Y/n) released Shigaraki as if she had been burned. "I'm not...I can't do that."

"Do what?" Shigaraki hauled himself up to his feet. "Did Kibutsuji start messing with your head? You're shaking." (Y/n) hadn't realised her knees were close to giving out on her. She lifted a hand, gaze focusing on the way she trembled. "I'm not scared," --her voice was cold, hard-- "you're imagining things."

A laugh escaped Shigaraki's throat and his lips lifted into something that could have been called a smile if it weren't so wide and toothy. "You're funny, trying to act all strong. But really, you're just a kid! It's hilarious, Chisaki."

All Might suddenly appeared in front of (Y/n), gaze darkening. He held out an arm and eased her behind him protectively. "You're insane." He spoke firmly, as if that were the truth. "You should keep your antisocial viewpoints to yourself. Besides, you just want to get in your kicks."

The words disappeared the moment (Y/n) heard them. It was as if she were stuck in a blizzard, only snow and ice whipping at her from all sides. She stood among the trees silent as night, the moon that refused to shine through the grey skies, and the darkness that threatened to consume her.

"Open your ears." This voice silky as oil only made (Y/n) want to curl in on herself. "We both are monsters, villains, if you will. And through your weakness, you put on a strong face to appear reliable. Responsible. No one else saw you as such when you were younger, so of course that is all you wish to be."

The wall separating All Might and (Y/n)'s classmates crumbled at Shigaraki's touch. The battle only continued, this time with Todoroki and Midoriya anticipating their moment to jump straight in. Bakugo stood in front of them, lips sealed shut.

"End it now."

Bakugou's gaze met (Y/n)'s and she stilled. "What are you all still doing here?" Her voice threatened to crack. "Leave, before things worsen."

Todoroki stared down the Nomu intently, fists clenched. "But if I hadn't came in earlier, it'd have been bad for All Might." To his left, Midoriya half whisper-shouted something to All Might (Y/n) didn't quite catch. She frowned, mind muddled with a million different things she could but wouldn't do.

"Chisaki!"

(Y/n) tensed under Shigaraki's intent gaze. He stood stiffly, shoulders still hunched as he planted a foot on a large chunk of rubble. "Join me." he stated. "Do you think anyone cares about you here?" (Y/n) grimaced, a bad taste settling in her mouth. "I don't even know you. Why would I join you?"

"Because you don't wanna die as a pawn in some sick game that has nothing to do with you." Shigaraki took a step forward, those eyes wide with a crazed shine. "You're being used by the heroes. Whoever you think is on your side will betray you soon enough."

As if they hadn't already done that, (Y/n) thought.

"Even though you tried to drown me, I'll honour what you want. Doesn't matter what it is, I'll give it to you."

What? (Y/n)'s head spun and swam. Only moments ago, Shigaraki had been so intent on winding her in with his quips that cut worse than knives. His focus was to break her, to tear her apart--not bring them together. "Why give me such terms if you don't like me?"

"Because we, The League of Villains, need you. I'm not stupid like those heroes. I know you can end me right now, yet you keep holding back."

(Y/n) huffed and ran a hand over the edge of her haori to ease the tremble in her hands. "I already told you, heroes don't kill people."

Shigaraki scratched at his neck. "No, but you're still a murderer." Dust and debris tossed into the air, casting a screen behind him as he continued forward. "Tell me, Yakuza girl, what are you gaining by staying at U.A.? We all know you're above that."

The face of Hakuji flashed in her mind. Warm, gentle eyes, long pink lashes, and a smile that made her heart leap into her throat. This now had more to do than keeping her past offenses under wraps, or saying yes to something she didn't care to agree on. "Does it matter?" (Y/n) couldn't help the laugh bubbling in her throat. "You aren't even in charge of this operation. Whoever you serve is your master. Not yourself."

"Then we're the same!" Shigaraki concluded. There was a mad look in his eyes, a flash of desperation. "Stop denying what's true and just admit it, you don't even care about heroes. If you weren't so guilty, then you wouldn't have gone to U.A.. Just admit it, Chisaki! I'm right!" The mist man materialised by his side, empty eyes boring through nothing yet everything.

"Shigaraki Tomura," the deep voice made him pause, "please calm yourself. If you look over there, you can see the Nomu succeeded in dealing damage to All Might."

Shigaraki turned to stare over his shoulder. All Might stood in a cloud of smoke, that same, big grin still on his face. Scratches and bruises littered his large build, yet he stood tall, shoulders broad. The mist man didn't seem satisfied with the outcome. "It appears the children are rearing away," he said. "It's true reinforcements are certain to make their appearance within a few minutes, however, I propose that if you and I were to combine our efforts, there might be an ample chance to murder him."

The hard expression on (Y/n)'s face sent a chill through the air. "You're forgetting something," she stated. "I'm still here." Shigaraki and the mist man turned to her, blood lust suffocating the very air. Shigaraki allowed his dry fingers to fall from his scratched neck, the skin thin enough to bleed.

"You're right." he said with a breathy chuckle. "Totally--utterly--on the dot." His crazed eyes met (Y/n)'s and she hardened the resolve in her heart. "After all this trouble...how can we fail to defeat the final boss? Above anything else, we must avenge Nomu."

If there was ever a use for a Quirk erasing bullet, right now would be the best time.

The mist man spread into black tendrils, swirling and churning into a vortex. There was no time to think. (Y/n)'s body reacted on its own, carrying her across the battle field towards the mist man. Shigaraki would have to wait, the 'revolving door' was much more important--

A flash of green cut (Y/n) short. She paused in her step, eyes widening as Midoriya soared through the air. His left leg flapped around, bruised, beaten and broken as he began to fall. (Y/n) changed courses and leapt into the air. She caught Midoriya, grip solid and firm as she set him down away from the villains.

As she turned to burst into the chaos, a loud 'BANG!' ripped through the air. Once. Twice. Three times. Shigaraki collapsed in a heap on his knees, howling and shouting in pain as the mist man warped in front of him.

At the entrance of U.S.J. stood a group of heroes along with Iida, hunched over his knees in exhaustion. One hero with a hat gave it a tip and blew at the barrel of his revolver. "Sorry partners."

"We're regrettably late." Principal Nezu added.

Iida made his way to the edge of the staircase. "Class 1-A President, Iida Tenya, reporting for duty!"

It was about time they came. (Y/n) wasn't sure how much longer she could resist from doing something she might regret. "Thank the gods," --her heart wanted to burst-- "I forgot Iida went to get them."

The hero with the cowboy hat raised his pistol and shot at Shigaraki. He began to dance under the fire until the mist man opened his vortexes. Another one appeared behind them, reeling them both in at unnatural speeds. "What?!" demanded Shigaraki. "We're getting pulled int!"

"That would be my doing!" Thirteen proudly exclaimed.

Relief spread throughout the whole of 1-A. Some fell to their knees while others slumped over with long, heavy sighs. (Y/n) smothered her own, gaze never once breaking from the two enemies before her. Nothing was over until the nomu was captured, the mist man subdued, and Shigaraki behind bars. It simply wouldn't be complete until all loose ends were sealed shut.

Shigaraki glared behind his curtain of periwinkle hair. The water had long dried, leaving stringy bangs along his forehead. "For the time being we've failed." The mist man warped around him. "But we'll get you next time, Symbol of Peace! And you, Chisaki (Y/n), my offer still stands. Consider it, I want to hear your answer next time I see you again."

She clenched a fist, golden eyes narrowing. "You've heard my answer."

Shigaraki nodded, he couldn't refute. "Fine, have fun losing your head as a pawn, Ice Hashira." The vortex swirled and warped, wrapping Shigaraki in darkness until nothing remained.

A long silence fell over U.S.J., settling over the air like frost. (Y/n) knelt down before Midoriya, gaze stoic with exhaustion. "I'm going to heal your wounds, understood? Breathe deeply, it hurts less."

"Wait, what--"

(Y/n) activated Overhaul and focused on rearranging Midoriya's broken limbs. He gritted his teeth with a wince, sweat trickling down his forehead. The first few times always hurt the worst, but (Y/n) didn't want to tell him that. "All done, but don't push yourself. Your body is still exhausted."

Midoriya's shoulders heaved. He placed a hand over his heart, feeling the rapid thump racing against his chest. "T-thanks." he wheezed. "Th-thanks, Chisaki-san." The words flew over her head spinning with thoughts. She stood straight, bunching the fabric of her haori close.

It lost the smell of green tea and grass to chlorine and dirt, but the feel of it against her skin was nostalgic. Comforting. She thought of Akaza's embrace, his hold gentle as snow. If he were here, would he still recognise the girl he fell madly in love with?

"Of course," she muttered. "Of course."

Modern Era Secrets!

-(Y/n)'s speed makes it impossible for anyone (untrained) to follow her movements
-All Might couldn't even see (Y/n) move
-All Might (obviously) still beats (Y/n) in every fighting aspect besides her Quirk (if it were at full power, that is)
-Kai so happened to watch the news today. He was not pleased with what he heard and ended up surfing the web for an hour in search of information
-Hari joined in when he heard what happened. The two were cooped up in Kai's office for another hour afterwards.
-Aizawa keeps an eye on (Y/n) more than he likes to admit. He just never says anything about what he notices.
-Yoriichi felt so bad after he told (Y/n) the truth. He cried over the phone to Michikatsu afterwards.
-Hawks may or may not be a little panicked. He heard about U.S.J. on the private hero network.
-Kibutsuji cannot be seen/heard by anyone but (Y/n). He's gotten a bit more powerful, so now he's able to project himself completely (like a ghost?)

Chapter Text

Pain burned in (Y/n)'s chest, a never-ending fire that burned as bright as her eyes. They had long lost that spark, only luminous because of the golden specks that pierced through nothing. Every word being said in class, every moment in time, was at a standstill because once again, she was lost.

Left by the ones she loved the most.

Then a thud caught (Y/n)'s ears and she stopped in her tracks, hands moving on their own before she could think. Her books fell to the floor, pencil case rolling by her feet as she caught a familiar ball of energy. He nearly fell out the window, blazer and everything threatening to shred as he bend in a weird angle out the window.

Yes, the window. How does one fall out of a window, of all places? With all the chatter already happening in the hallway, could this day get even more obnoxious? Even more frustrating? It was the same as having bugs buzz in your ear, a little sound you swatted at but could never quite make go away.

(Y/n) pulled Kirishima out of the window, lips pressed into a hard frown as he balanced on his feet with a shake of his head. "Woah, that as close!" he exclaimed. "Thanks, Chisaki!" (Y/n) stared at him incredulously, brows knit tightly. "Why do you keep falling out of windows? Did someone try to throw your phone outside?"

"Yes--well, not my phone, but still! That's my favourite pencil!" Kirishima wailed (to (Y/n)'s bewilderment), holding it up. "Bakugou is a bully! I wasn't trying to do anything, I swear!" Doubt washed over (Y/n) as she looked over his shoulder at a very, very upset Bakugou, then a dumb-founded Kaminari who looked like he wanted to laugh but couldn't. Ashido was somewhere off to the side, hand to her head in exasperation.

What an odd group.

(Y/n) turned to pick up her stuff. Kirishima suddenly stood tall and handed it all back to her with a sorry look on his face. "I think I just took a joke too far and Bakugou got mad. But he's always mad anyway, right? Sorry, I caused you some trouble, huh?" The way he sheepishly pursed his lips together made (Y/n) sigh. She couldn't be mad at him, it wasn't like he chose defenestration anyway.

"Try not to get into trouble," she said with a frown. "You didn't hurt yourself did you?" Kirishima shook his head and beamed. "Nah, don't worry about me. I think I just popped a button off my shirt, but I'm not hurt." He paused for a moment and made a face. "Are you okay though? You look kinda..."

"Dead." Ashido seemed to appear out of thin air. She didn't want to pry since the two weren't close, but she couldn't just leave (Y/n) the way she was. Sure, she frowned a lot, but this...wasn't the same. Somehow, it seemed to make her age by ten years "I think it's time to get lunch. I can order for you, Chisaki-san!"

(Y/n) only shook her head. Now wasn't the time for socialization. If anything, she wanted to sleep. Sleep and never wake up, or at least not for a couple hundred years. She fiddled with the zipper on her pencil case. "I think I'll pass. Thank you though, Ashido. You don't have to say "san", it makes me feel old."

A laugh bubbled in Ashido's throat and it almost made (Y/n) want to stay. "Aw, that's sweet Chisaki! Can I call you chan?"

"Uh, sure?"

Ashido took it as a win and pumped a fist in the air.

Kaminari made his way over, with a begrudging Bakugou in tow. It was funny, seeing Kaminari with that big grin on his face, and Bakugou with his shoulders slumped and a deathly scowl on his face. (Y/n) caught his red, angry eyes and the two stared at each other for a good moment.

Then Bakugou huffed and (Y/n) looked away with a distasteful scorn. "Well, if anything, I doubt that little beast wants to have lunch with me. I'll head to class early, see you guys later?"

"Who the fuck are you calling a beast, loser?!"

(Y/n) had already turned on her heel, waving goodbye as she passed around the corner. She made her way to Aizawa's classroom. It was the next class anyway, and it wasn't like he was actually hanging out there, right? It was usually empty. She would know, since wandering into empty classes became a habitual thing.

The door felt heavier in (Y/n)'s hands as she slid it open. She shut it behind and took a seat at her desk, gaze falling on anything yet nothing. She did have homework, but it was lunch. It could always wait a little longer. Yet the slight ache in her heart, a pain she knew all too well filled her chest.

And damn it all. Damn everything to hell.

It was a constant feeling, a constant friend that never dared leave her side, never once faltering, never once stilling. Why couldn't she find a semblance of peace, a single moment of quiet to clear her raging mind? (Y/n)'s hands itched for her katana, itched to run it through something--anything--until the feelings dissipated and--

"Chisaki?"

(Y/n) hadn't noticed the door open, nor had she noticed Aizawa who...who looked awful. Bandages wrapped nearly every inch of his body, leaving little room for his eyes to peek out and allow him the wondrous thing called sight. He was stiff, arms barely rising with a too-tight cast. "You look worse for wear," she stated.

A sigh escaped Aizawa's lips. He was really hoping for some peace and quiet, but apparently that was too much. "I appreciate the honesty, Chisaki." There was no appreciation in his voice. "Why are you here, it's lunch time." It sounded more like, "I'm tired, get out of my classroom", but (Y/n) refused to budge. She remained seated and rested a hand in her chin.

"No reason." Oh, but she had every reason. "I suppose I was bored."

Aizawa didn't buy it. He looked at (Y/n) as closely as he could from his desk. She was so far away, tucked in that little corner of the classroom she seemed to love. It appeared as a refuge, at least before her classmates began talking to her more often. "Alright," Aizawa resigned himself, "do what you want, I don't care anyway, I'm taking a nap."

Yet Aizawa didn't move. He remained in his spot, waiting, watching. (Y/n)'s brows knitted and she blinked slowly. This was weird. Too awkward. Did Aizawa have something to say? But if he did, why wouldn't he say it? Surely there was something she could do to break this weird, tense silence--

"I had a meeting with the other teachers," Aizawa's voice was calm, yet his eyes betrayed him, "you became the center of attention." A sense of trouble filled the air, a discomforting sort of weight that made (Y/n) shift in her seat. "Why is that? I didn't do anything wrong."

"Don't lie to yourself. I saw what you did to Shigaraki."

Silence befell the room once again. Thick and rubbery, threatening to snap and allow all hell to break loose. All hell that was filled with questions (Y/n) couldn't answer, stares she hid from, and people she'd rather avoid. "I see."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Aizawa sat back in his chair as far as he could, sighing once again. If he felt like it, he probably could have become a chain smoker with how depressed he always was.

The room began to fill, where chatter broke the uncomfortable silence. Once everyone settled, there were a few questions about what was going to happen next since U.S.J. only ended a day or two ago. Everyone was rowdy, uncertain with either excitement or worry for the next big steps.

"You all should be prepared for what comes next." Aizawa stated, unblinking.

The class all shot up from their seats, side conversations.

"For more villains?!"

"Another test?!"

Aizawa scanned the entire room, eyeing each student like a hawk. "No," --he dramatically paused-- "U.A.'s Sports' Festival!"

Cue a round of 'ehhhh?!' and 'woaaaahhhh!'.

(Y/n) pursed her lips together, troubled. What made the school think it was a good idea to convene the Sports' Festival? It was a large scale event, one that without a doubt could cause an even bigger commotion. But then again, were the League so powerful that they could overtake whole stadiums?

"This doesn't sound like a good idea," (Y/n) murmured. Aizawa must have had selective hearing because he turned to her sharply and said, "See me after class, Chisaki."

"What?" she gaped. "After class?"

"Yes, after class, Chisaki."

A burning frustration festered in (Y/n)'s chest. She gripped her pencil tight, but not enough to break it. Details about the Sports' Festival flew in through one ear and out the other. She didn't have time for a festival, when the clock was against her. And maybe, long, long ago, she would have jumped for joy, ecstatic with the idea of participating in the biggest event in the country.

But that was a long time ago in a forgotten memory she would rather bury.

Class ended shortly. Everyone began to file out, and before the door closed, Kirishima flashed (Y/n) a smile. She tried to return it, but it must have been so horrendous because it made Kirishima wheeze as he shut the door.

Silence engulfed the empty classroom.

"Chisaki," Aizawa slowly lowered himself onto his desk chair like he had broken his back, "you're not in trouble. I want to talk to you."

Ah, yes, because that was exactly what she needed right now. A talk. About what? U.S.J.? Her failing habits that have put her in a dangerous position? The fact that her brother disowned her? Oh, yes, yes. Because a talk was just wonderful when they had one right before class started! Who needs another one of those? It wasn't like she was going to go on and on about Shigaraki just because Aizawa asked right? No. Of course not.

Aizawa's gaze was unyielding from his side of the room. "You already know what I'm going to say. I mentioned it earlier before class." He paused and the air seemed to get thinner, tighter. "I'll put it bluntly: you tried to drown Shigaraki"

"I wasn't trying to drown him." The words were numb to (Y/n)'s lips. "Shigaraki tried to kill me."

Aizawa scanned (Y/n)'s expression carefully, eyes flickering across the crease of her brows, the dead stare in her eyes. He sighed, "As long as you understand what I'm trying to say, I won't say anything else." (Y/n) raised a brow incredulously. "I could have died because of Shigaraki's Quirk. He took interest in me and threatened to kill me. I could have died and you're questioning my methods?"

"Not exactly." There was little change in Aizawa's eyes. "If anything, I was more concerned about your well-being. You're a first year student. Having to put yourself in a position of life or death isn't easy."

(Y/n) could only shrug.

"I heard from Tsukauchi-san that you were asked to join the "League"."

(Y/n)'s gaze narrowed wearily. "I rejected Shigaraki if that's what you're asking. Have faith in me, I'm your student." Aizawa heaved in a long breath, frowning. "I do. I realised then that you're not as half-assed as I thought you were. But some of the other teachers have questions. They think you're trying to hide something and I can't deny that."

Hide something? No, no. (Y/n) wasn't trying to hide something. She was defending herself, creating walls and barriers so the secret of what was inside her, what was now a part of her, would never come into light in a place where heroes were made and people were good and hopeful and kind.

"What do you mean?" (Y/n) couldn't hear her voice anymore. It was a mere echo, a drop in an ocean. "What would I have to hide?"

Aizawa rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "In the end, it's not really my business. Tsugikuni was very adamant about your integrity as a person. If it wasn't for him, I don't think that meeting would have ended so well. Besides that," his gaze seemed to pierce through (Y/n), "if there's anything on your mind, have more faith in your teachers."

Split-second fragments of U.S.J. flashed in the back of (Y/n)'s mind, burned into her eyes until it was forever imprinted in her unsteady heart. The way she ran into danger by herself. The way skin peeled off AIzawa's bones. The chlorine that burned the back of her throat.

Aizawa's gaze began to flicker around the room. He was holding himself back, whether for personal reasons or the basic fact that it really wasn't his business or place to say. This wasn't an interrogation, nor was it supposed to guilt-trip (Y/n) into confession.

Aizawa shut his eyes again. His mind was reeling, gears churning. "Even though you disobeyed what I told you to do at U.S.J., you saved me. Thank you, Chisaki."

(Y/n) ran a thumb over her knuckles, lips pressing into a thin line. Somehow, she knew there was more behind those words. Questions in need of answers. Thoughts that led to nowhere. Still, Aizawa held fast, remained cool enough to talk to her on equal terms.

"Well..." (Y/n) didn't know what to say. "It was natural."

"Natural" was an understatement, but Aizawa didn't question it. Only those who had trained through blood, sweat, and tears were able to react so quickly, so efficiently in the face of danger. "I see," --he didn't really see (he was still injured after all)-- "head to class, Chisaki. You're gonna be late."

---

Yoriichi's class was nearly over by the time (Y/n) arrived. She took a seat at her desk beside the wall. Kirishima, Ashido, and Kaminari were at the other side of the room with Sero, where Bakugou sat with a rather grumpy scowl on his face. His expression never seemed to change much.

It was hard to sit still the moment (Y/n) sat down. She fidgeted, awkwardly tapping her pencil, her foot. Anything to keep her mind at bay. What page was everyone on? What were they doing? She peered over at Midoriya's desk, sneaking a peek at his paper. In theory, she could just ask, but that would be weird and awkward. And what if she disrupted the class? Then everyone would look at her and then--

"Oh, page thirty-two." came a quiet voice.

(Y/n) blinked.

"Page thirty-two," Midoriya repeated. He looked a little shy with the way he too was fidgeting. "It's the purple book." (Y/n) sifted through her bag with a quick thanks and flipped to the page. "Thank you."

In the old worn yard
The sword falls heavily down
You stare in detest.

Nothing special about the poem. It sounded rather solemn.

Blinded by hatred
As resentment comes to bloom
We are still brothers.

(Y/n) squinted. "Something's not right." Midoriya looked up from his worksheet with a hum. "Are you confused?"

Alone I run for days
Miracles come unexpectedly
After painful wait.

"No...I just..." She trailed off, brows furrowing. Her gaze flickered over to Yoriichi, who chose that exact moment to turn around and make direct eye contact with her. He tilted his head to the side, as if to ask if she needed help. She sent him a funny look, as if it say, "really"?

Maybe Yoriichi was the one who wrote these, she thought.

The bell rang. Before (Y/n) stood, that same quiet, shy voice caught her ears. She turned to Midoriya, who mumbled and grumbled incoherently. "U-uhm," he stuttered, swallowing. "About last week, you were really amazing. Your Quirk was a big help, but I-I noticed that your speed and strength was something you mostly relied on. I could be wrong but, you seemed afraid to use your quirk, or rather, less efficient with it. And--and I wasjustownderingifyoucouldtellmemoreaboutyourQuirk?"

(Y/n) stood frozen in time, taking a moment to drink in what the hell this kid had said. The longer she stared the more fidgety Midoriya became. He looked about ready to run away, or worse, faint from the sheer amount of cortisol bursting in his system.

"You want to know more about my Quirk?" (Y/n) slowly said. "As in, how it works?" Midoriya nervously fiddled with the edge of his paper. "W-well, uhm..."

"If you really want to." The words left (Y/n)'s lips before she had a second to process. She wasn't too keen on getting to know her classmates, or anyone for that fact. They weren't mean, she was just...antisocial. Years of fighting had left her with little knack for talking to people. If it happened, it happened. If it didn't, it didn't.

So why did she say yes?

Midoriya looked just as surprised. "A-are you sure? I don't want to force you, it's okay to say no, I--"

"It's fine." (Y/n) put away her notebooks. "What do you want to know, Midoriya?" His eyes widened and he quickly pulled out a worn notebook (much loved by how often it seemed to be handled). "O-oh, uh, how it works, the name, what do you do to use it for and so on..."

(Y/n) thought for a moment. "My Quirk is Overhaul. I use it to shape the things around me because it takes things apart and puts them back together--hence the name Overhaul. I can't make complex structures, but I have learned how to use it to heal. I can't do burns yet, and if I don't do it correctly it can hurt."

The memory of repairing Midoriya's hand made a pang of guilt sprout in (Y/n)'s heart. Midoriya must have thought the same because he made a face, as if it had happened all over again. "Is it possible to overhaul anything?" he inquired. "As in, can you manipulate anything like air since you, I don't know, touch it? Or it it just the physical object itself?"

That was a tough one. "I don't really know," (Y/n) admitted with a shrug. "I haven't tried anything outside of what I already know. I'm pretty sure it's only with objects." Midoriya's brows furrowed and he seemed to forget his nerves altogether. "Just objects or anything else? And how about your speed? Is that something that's part of your Quirk?"

Another shrug and a shake of her head. "Speed isn't a part of my Quirk, as for the other question, I don't know." Lies. "I don't see much use for it." Confusion rubbed itself on Midoriya's face and he blinked. "But your Quirk has so much potential! You can touch anything and make it form whatever you envision. That's a great Quirk that could do so many great things."

And bad things. But (Y/n) didn't say that out loud. "Well, I wouldn't say I could do things by simply envisioning it. I have to think about the process, which is why general knowledge of basic anatomy is important to make sure you know what things are supposed to look like. My--" My brother told me I had to know biology, just because it was easier to use Overhaul. "Not that I do remember much from what I tried to learn. Why are you so interested in this anyway?"

Midoriya looked up from his notebook, those big eyes round and full of light. "If I'm being honest, I just kind of wanted to get to know you more. I always see you alone--not that it's a problem! I just--I thought I should get to know you because we're classmates and heroes in training!"

"You mutter a lot." (Y/n) said, brows knitting. "May I see your notebook?" Midoriya passed it over, fiddling with his hands nervously. As he muttered away, she flipped through the notes, skimming all the details and doodles. "How are you so fascinated by my Quirk?" she inquired, handing back the notebook. "It's dangerous."

Midoriya paused, blinking curiously. "Your Quirk is extremely helpful! It hurts to heal others, but imagine all the good you could do to people who get seriously injured. I think that you'll be a great hero, Chisaki-san. Your Quirk is really cool."

(Y/n) averted her gaze to the side. "That's...very kind of you." She couldn't look Midoriya in the eyes. It was the same as looking at the sun. Ever so blinding, ever so burning against her skin.

"Can you heal people with chronic illnesses?" (Y/n) thought for a moment. "I don't know." Midoriya hummed to himself in thought, gears visibly churning in his head. "But when you put things back together, it's like I wasn't even hurt to begin with. I don't have any scars anywhere."

This puzzled (Y/n). She didn't recall thinking much of the skin on Midoriya's hand when she healed it. Everything had been by instinct, induced by the adrenaline searing her veins. Kai had said that Overhaul put things back together in a perfect state if that was the...

...intent.

(Y/n) furrowed her brows together. Ah, how had she forgotten? "What did you say about Overhaul, Midoriya?" she inquired. He looked at her curiously, even more confused. "That it puts things back together when you envision what it looks like?"

The image of Kai putting his glove back together flashed in the back of (Y/n)'s mind. He had showed her how to use Overhaul (properly) with one explanation.

"You don't have to think on an atomic level, it's simpler than that even for animate objects. Did you think I thought of every vein in a person's body while reassembling? That's ridiculous."

A cold pit opened in (Y/n)'s stomach. The sound of the heart monitor echoed in the back of her mind, a lonely sound she used to bask in. "I have thought about it, but I still need to get used to it."

Midoriya wasn't sure if he should be shocked, worried, or even more confused. It wasn't unheard of to discover the potential of one's Quirks during rigorous training and dedication, but that usually happened during elementary and middle school. (Y/n) was so clueless. As if she never even thought of the capabilities her Quirk possessed. As if...as if she held zero interest in it.

Midoriya forced himself to look (Y/n) in the face. He threw down his nerves with a gulp and remained steadfast, watching the way her golden eyes focused and unfocused. She looked lost in thought, aimlessly drifting among the unknown. There was a sort of calm, a sort of acceptance that fell over her features.

"Do you dislike your Quirk Chisaki-san?"

(Y/n) shook her head, gaze distant, far away. "No," she lied, "I just don't have an interest in it." She stood, closing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. It was nice that Midoriya wanted to talk to her, but the topic was too touchy. Too close to her heart she didn't want to think about it. "Thanks for talking to me Midoriya, I'm going to go home now. I appreciate you thinking of me."

He stood, waving his hands frantically. "O-oh, of course! I-I hope I didn't overstep or anything by asking too many questions, I know we're not close and I barely even talk to you as is so next time I won't--"

"It's alright, Midoriya." (Y/n) tried her best for a small smile (the sound of the heart monitor kept ringing in her ears, an incessant beep, beep beep). It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. She hadn't properly smiled at many of her classmates, so maybe they were intimidated by her presence. She tried to channel her inner Kyojurou--a smile that was warm and friendly, fierce and strong.

In the afternoon sun, (Y/n)'s eyes seemed to glow like liquid gold. There was a weight on her shoulders, one that froze her face with weariness and exhaustion, yet she stood tall. Stood strong. Underneath that thin layer of ice, Midoriya wondered if that was how she truly felt inside. Or what she wanted to believe.

"I'll see you around?"

Midoriya blinked. He hadn't realised (Y/n) had already made her way to the door. "O-oh, right! Yeah, I hope we can talk more soon!"

And then she was gone.

The screen glared back at (Y/n) with daggers. She hovered over the keyboard, eyeing the marker signaling what her last word had been.

Hi.

That was all she managed to type in the past two minutes. The hallway was quiet. Everyone was too busy at lunch, chattering away in the cafeteria as she took refuge on the other side of the school. A breeze blew in through the open windows overlooking Musutafu. The sun was warm against her icy skin and she basked in it, sighing calmly to herself, then her numb fingers accidentally hit send.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened. "Oh no." She stared in horror at the screen as bubbled appeared from the recipient.

What's up?

"Oh no." (Y/n) muttered, staring and staring and staring at the words as if it were written in another language. What business would a Pro-Hero have responding to some random teenager's texts in the middle of the day? Maybe he was on lunch break? Maybe he just so happened to be on his phone at that time? It had been months since (Y/n) last even talked to Hawks. She wasn't sure how much she wanted to initiate conversation after their last meeting.

Clearly, he had been hiding many things. Things that the HPSC didn't want him to reveal. It couldn't have been for (Y/n)'s safety, nor could it have been for her best interest. Yet a part of her wanted to believe Hawks actually cared for her, just as he showed. Just as she thought.

More bubbles appeared. Then disappeared.

(Y/n)'s hands tingled and she pursed her lips together. "Would he just say it already? Gods."

Are you free tomorrow?

(Y/n) thought for a moment. She still had school, and the Sport's Festival was coming up, but she wasn't so swamped with homework that she could decline. Even if she wanted to, she reached out first. She initiated point of contact. And even if she said no, it was already too late, there were more bubbles on the screen.

Meet me by the train station at 9PM. Sorry, I know it's last minute.

Well, it looked like there wasn't much choice. Had Hawks also thought of contacting her or was it a mere coincidence? Then again, he wasn't one to do things without thought. He wasn't careless like that. (Y/n) pursed her lips together.

This better be good

Not an ounce of remorse filled (Y/n)'s heart as she turned off her phone and stuffed it in her pocket. She didn't feel bad for giving Hawks the cold shoulder, not when he couldn't have used his head a little more and given her reasons for his actions, reasons to keep seeing him as someone to trust, to believe in. Being a Pro meant nothing to her when he (and Yoriichi) held little regard for honesty (even if they did care).

"Well if this isn't a surprise."

(Y/n) didn't need to turn around to see who it was. She felt her lips quirk into a small smile, a warm hand finding hers. "Akaza." He grinned, those bright blue eyes meeting hers. They flashed with the characters "upper moon three", changing colours and back again with the daylight.

"What's with the long face?" he inquired. "Aren't you glad to see me, Wonder Girl?"

"Of course I am." The smile on (Y/n)'s lips began to fade. "I just have business to take care of later. A little mending to do." Akaza raised a brow, giving her hand a squeeze. "What happened?" He had no knowledge of (Y/n)'s connections to the HPSC, Hawks, or her little skirmish with Yoriichi (who he has seen on campus for some time, wearily).

But Akaza didn't push, nor did he pry. He waited patiently, watching as (Y/n) rubbed her temples. Asking too many questions (no matter how much he loved to talk) wasn't going to help her, so he stayed quiet.

"I'm meeting Pro-Hero Hawks later." (Y/n) grumbled. "I haven't seen him in a while and frankly don't wish to." Akaza's brow furrowed. "Then why see him at all? No one's forcing you."

And that was true. No one could force (Y/n) to see Hawks, even Hawks himself. He wasn't going to show up by her windowsill at night if she didn't go, nor would he break into her home until she woke up one night and saw him by her bedside. So why go at all? Why talk things out when she already knew how it would go?

Hawks works for the HPSC. Hawks is a Pro-Hero. Hawks serves the people. Hawks is working with Oyakata-sama, both of whom are literally funding her education at U.A. And most importantly, Hawks and everyone else knew about Kbutsuji, knew about the time he would come back, and knew about everything that decided (Y/n)'s very fate since the moment she awoke back in the present.

"I have to know," (Y/n) quietly said, "I need to know why."

There was a darkness in her eyes, a world of hurt that broke into little shards. Akaza cupped (Y/n)'s cheeks, touch soft when the sun began to grow cold. It pained him to see how much she suffered, but it was reassuring to know she hadn't been beaten down for good. "Then tell me all about it when you get back."

(Y/n)'s features softened and she smiled. Akaza knew the weight she carried on her shoulders, and by the gods, would he do anything to make it lighter even by a gram.

"Thanks, Bakaza."

He pecked her on the lips and it was warm and sweet.

Darkness was slow to come that night. No matter what (Y/n) did to try and make the hours approach faster, she couldn't make the clock move. It was excruciating. Every cell in her body seemed to be out of order, scrambling. She was jumpy at even the slightest sound (it was really just Chachamaru pattering into her room), threatening shadows at the sounds of her phone notifications, and doing anything but sitting still.

There was really nothing to be nervous of. Really. Akaza would be there for her right when she got back, awaiting a text or call if she wanted to talk. And if anything, Yushiro would be awake since he never really slept anyway. There were people here who she could rely on, people whom she loved.

Yet the more (Y/n) thought, the more her pulse began to quicken. She felt the roar of blood in her ears and the dryness of her throat that left it scratchy and itching. "I'm leaving now," she decided, giving Chachamaru one last pet on the head. "I can't sit here and do nothing." She picked up her phone, where the clock read 7:20.

(Y/n) had over an hour and a half that could be used for doing homework, or better yet, training in preparation for the worst. Then her feet moved and she was carried down the stairs, through the kitchen and to the door. No turning back now.

"Where are you going?"

Yushiro had appeared out of nowhere, a brush in hand and a cup of dirty paint water in the other. He stared (Y/n) down, eyeing the way she rubbed her knuckles impatiently. "I'm going out."

"Where? It's late, don't you have something better to do?" Yushiro didn't expect (Y/n) to answer right away. Since that whole Kai and Hari incident, she had become increasingly secretive, more enclosed, and ever so distant. Ever so harder to reach.

Right Yushiro was. A long silence stretched out, one only broken by Chachamaru's worried meows. Grim worry lines drew themselves into (Y/n)'s face. She looked more haggard than usual, more hollow and haunted. "I need to talk to Hawks. I told you about him before, haven't I?"

Yushiro made a face. "You told me he betrayed you. He, and the Tsugikuni twins, are not to be trusted. They work with the HPSC."

"Not entirely," (Y/n) couldn't look him in the eyes, "I believe it's more than that. They must have good reason, especially since it involves Oyakata-sama." She pursed her lips together. It seemed that the more time that went on, the more often she saw familiar faces. Had they all been alive in the present since she was a child? Or was it all coincidence, another consequence of the Quirk that ruined her life?

"I'll be back in a couple hours."

And there was nothing Yushiro could do to help (Y/n). He studied her face carefully, how the light kept dying in her eyes, then reviving for a little and dying once again. It was like a flower, always ready to bloom, only then freezing over when winter came unexpectedly. And it was a hopeless feeling, one that made Yushiro's heart ache. "Come back safe," --there wasn't anything else he could say-- "don't get hurt. If you do, I'll murder you myself."

A small smile tugged at the edges of (Y/n)'s lips, one that made Yushiro wish time would stop. "Thanks, Oji-san."

It was endearing how (Y/n) called Yushiro uncle, even when he was a helpless thing. One that wasn't a good caretaker, one that wasn't a good friend, one who really only spoke with a biting tongue. He frowned to himself as the door shut, watching with bated breath as the Ice Hashira disappeared past the gates.

(Y/n) wandered the streets for who knows how long. She couldn't shake the feeling of Yushiro's expression as she had left the house. He looked so limp, so colourless, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was her fault. A park came into sight through the darkness. A swing set stood still, only ever moving with the slight push of a breeze. The slides were empty, plastic shining dimly in the moonlight.

Wood chips dug into (Y/n)'s sneakers. She usually wore her tabi, or heck, even flip flops, but she needed something different. A bit more change. She lowered herself onto one of the swings, lightly kicking her feet so she swung back and forth.

And all that filled the air was silence. A few cars passed every now and then, their headlights fading into the darkness when they turned a corner. Then all was still again, with only the squeak of the swing, a breeze, and her own breath as silent as the night.

The flapping of wings caught (Y/n)'s ears and she looked up at its source, where a very disheveled Hawks landed with a tired smile. He didn't look as carefree as he used to--no, no, there were too many thoughts in that head of his. "Hey, Little Birdie."

"Hawks." (Y/n) stood, lips pursed into a thin line. "You're early." He shrugged, gaze falling to the side almost guiltily. "I had extra time, and you know, I'm pretty fast." (Y/n) would have at least snorted if she had the energy. "What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Hawks's expression fell. He expected (Y/n) to be more angry, more cold and unforgiving. Yet here she sat, exhausted beyond comprehension, already sapped of what little energy she had left. "Right down to business, huh? I've been meaning to talk to you for a while." Well, a while was an understatement. This was long overdue. "You have zero reason to trust me, but I wanted to explain as much as I could. I don't like lying."

(Y/n) took a seat back on the swing and Hawks joined her. She glanced at him wearily. "What about the HPSC? I thought they were listening to you." Hawks ran a hand through his unruly hair. It looked almost brown in the little moonlight shining above. "Last time we talked, the HPSC ordered me to call you. I didn't want to, but they made me stay in their office so they could all listen. Afterwards, Ubuyashiki--Oyakata-sama, right--he said he'd make sure you and Tsugikuni met."

Which, inevitably, did happen. (Y/n) didn't even know U.A. had a class specifically for the history of Japanese literature (yeah, not the most exciting for heroes-in-training), but if it were a new class, those strings weren't too hard to pull for these circumstances. Hawks had many reasons to lie, but judging by the sullen look on his face, he was being straight.

"Tsugikuni-Sensei is my literature teacher."

Hawks huffed indignantly. "Very fitting, he seemed the type for that anyway since he's always talking about this and that like about sad stuff. But what I mean is..." He paused and turned, amber eyes sharp and focused. "You're in danger, (Y/n). The only reason why you haven't been taken in is because you're a student at U.A. You made headlines because of U.S.J., and if you suddenly disappear, that wouldn't go down well for anyone."

(Y/n) pinched her brow together. "And I'm assuming with the Sports' Festival coming up, there's not much the HPSC can do anyway. Everyone will already expect me, a student of 1-A, to participate. Withdrawing would bring too much attention."

"Exactly." Hawks was grateful (Y/n) was able to keep up. "Things are tense right now. I can tell Ubuyashiki is planning to double cross the HPSC, and vise versa since their goals changed. Their peace is fragile, so when it ends, they'll both come after you."

"To kill me." (Y/n) concluded dully. "Yeah, I know. That's nothing new." She lifted her head to the sky, where dark clouds drifted lazily in the midnight skies. "But by the way you keep looking at me, that doesn't appear to be the whole truth."

Hawks's grip tightened on the swing. He stood and made his way to (Y/n), who averted her gaze to the ground.

"Can't you at least look me in the face?"

(Y/n) sighed and begrudgingly met his eyes.

Hawks looked tired, stretched a bit too thin. But it was his fault, wasn't it? For leaving loose ends, for never fully making amends, for not being faster, quicker, when he was supposed to be the fastest. Yet right now, he feels he was too late.

"The HPSC's motives have changed and Ubuyashiki isn't in agreement since they want you as their personal weapon. He doesn't have the forces to take on a whole government organization though. One word and all the HPSC's best heroes will come after the Demon Slayer Corps and you."

(Y/n) knitted her brows. She felt like she missed something. It was obvious that the Corps's revival was mostly imminent, yet still, it seemed almost inconceivable. She thought of her not-so-dead friends, how their faces had been full of light, free of the weight and guilt that once carved into their hearts. The thought of them bowing to Oyakata-sama on that too white gravel courtyard, where trees always bloomed wisteria in another time, another place, seemed so far away.

Too far away.

The threat of Kibutsuji still remained, pulsing in (Y/n)'s veins. Since everyone seemed to know by now, it wasn't much of a one-on-one.

"It's not like there's a war yet," (Y/n) said mostly to herself, "what reason would the HPSC want a trump card in their arsenal? And even if they were to have me in their possession, then what? I don't have control over Kibutsuji. If anything, I'm a liability."

Hawks pursed his lips. There was a storm brewing, a whirlwind that he for once didn't quite understand. He wasn't used to not knowing things, especially as someone who answered directly to the HPSC anyway. What more could a hero organization want from (Y/n)? She was just a kid. "I don't know," he admitted. "I assume they don't have a specific reason, just an interest."

"That's sadistic."

Hawks snorted, folding his arms across his chest. "You look worse than I remember, (Y/n)." She looked at him funny, little mirth in her eyes. "Thanks. If I wasn't in such a bad state, I might have been less frustrated with the fact you didn't tell me anything last time."

"I'm sorry."

(Y/n) shook her head. "It doesn't matter." Because truly, she didn't know anything anymore. Instead of answers, she only had questions. And instead of leads, she kept finding dead ends and why, why, why. She knew now not to trust anyone, she knew now she was running short on time with how much stronger Kibutsuji had become, and she knew that soon (years, months, days) she was going to die.

The air was sullen, heavy with the unsaid. And it only grew until (Y/n)'s skin itched. "If I told you Kibutsuji has grown stronger and that he and I were one, what would you do?"

Hawks didn't look surprised. "You're still in control now," --he was dodging the question-- "he hasn't taken over completely."

"And when he does?" (Y/n) inquired, jaw clenching. "When that happens, I will need someone to kill me. During U.S.J., I was told by Shigaraki Tomura that he knew Kibutsuji. Him and his 'Sensei'."

Now that was a surprise. "What?"

"Well, tell that to your HPSC and I'm good as dead, aren't I?" (Y/n) said with a snort. "I know you wouldn't deliberately hurt me, at least I think--unless I became a danger to the greater good."

There was something so very wrong with the way (Y/n) looked at Hawks. Lips pressed thin, pale and slightly cracked, cheeks sunken from lost weight, and tousled hair that seemed so out of character for someone as peculiar about the little things.

It hadn't been very long since U.S.J. ended, but Hawks knew for a fact the attack wouldn't have shaken (Y/n). Shigaraki Tomura--not much is currently known about him--but no one really cares. Still, the haunted look in (Y/n)'s eyes said otherwise.

"U.S.J. really isn't over yet, huh," Hawks concluded. "And if Shigaraki knows about Kibutsuji, then the League of Villains could prove a future problem. Did he seem interested in you, besides the Sensei?"

Memories, faces, shouts. That was all (Y/n) could recall. She shook her head. "Perhaps."

Hawks frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He wanted me to join them. Obviously, I declined, he got angry, we fought, yadayada yah. Shigaraki didn't seem to like me very much, but..."

You're being used by the heroes, he had said.

"I wouldn't team up with a group of misfits, even if he thinks it appeals to me."

The gears were turning in Hawks's mind. He placed a hand to his chin, brows knitting. "This doesn't sound good. If his "Sensei" has an interest in you shared with Shigaraki, you could become a potential target."

(Y/n) snorted. "I'm not an easy target."

Hawks held up his hands, a sparkling bit of mirth in his eyes. "Oh right, of course! You're the Ice Hashira, so strong. As if anyone could lay a hand on you." The jest made (Y/n) snort again, and then she chocked on her spit and hacked. Hawks patted her back, snickering the whole time. "You're kinda clumsy. Choking on your own spit, how does that happen?"

"This never happens..."

"Well, it did now!" Hawks grinned with an exaggerated bow. "Oh super powerful I-can't-be-defeated Ice Hashira, I would never underestimate you. But careful! You'll trip on your inflated ego."

The light in Hawks's eyes made her pause to stare. Had he always been this playful? Or was this was his way to cope when the mood turned sour? Maybe he was trying to make it up to her, to mend what hurt and to repair what was broken. "You might want to eat your words," she said, a tug pulling at her lips. "You're said to be the fastest, but who knows, maybe that all might be rumour."

"Wanna bet?"

"No thanks."

There was a comfortable quiet as warm night air caressed (Y/n)'s cheeks. She swung her feet under the swing and Hawks wrapped a hand on the chain, giving it a light push. "In all seriousness though, the League could become a problem for all parties involved. I can't imagine dealing with some man-child who makes people disintegrate by touching them." he said.

"Don't forget, he'll throw tantrums too." (Y/n) said with a loud sigh. "Big tantrums, like some little kid. Then he'll stomp his feet and go, 'ohhh this is soooo unfair, wah wah'." She snorted to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. U.S..J. wasn't that long ago, yet it felt like ages, a mere snapshot in time that stretched for eternity. "I might have shown off a little, so now everyone is suspicious of me. Aizawa Sensei stopped me after class to pry, but I guess he knew better than to involve himself."

Hawks hummed. "Smart man. It would be his headache anyway. We don't need more people knowing things they shouldn't."

(Y/n) turned to him as he gave the swing a push, launching her a little higher. This conversation wasn't as short as she expected it to be. Hawks was lingering, almost as if he didn't want to leave. "What made you come all this way to see me? You're constantly busy, and I know for a fact all those other times you must have been ordered by your higher ups to keep an eye on me."

The relaxed expression on Hawks's face drew neutral, those amber eyes dampening. They were his betrayal, for (Y/n) knew immediately of his guilt. She sighed, gaze softening. "I didn't expect much. You responded too fast. What are they asking of you now?"

"I didn't come here because I was ordered to."

(Y/n)'s brows knitted together.

"I came here to warn you because I genuinely care about you, (Y/n). I don't show up this much because of the HPSC, even if they wanted me to. I wouldn't have time anyway with how busy they keep me." The swing came to a sudden stop. "I know you know that the moment you lose control is the moment you die. You're two separate people in the same body, but since Ubuyashiki knows pretty much everything, he'll send out--"

"Tsugikuni Yoriichi." That name was numb upon (Y/n)'s tongue. She held no fear, yet ice ran through her veins. The pulsing voice of that damned demon in the back of her skull thrummed lowly like a bass drum. Ever approaching, ever present beneath the melody that was her salvation. A salvation quickly slipping.

Hawks placed a hand to (Y/n)'s shoulder. There was something else bothering her. Even if she wouldn't say it out loud he knew since death never seemed to faze her very much. But what could be bothering (Y/n) if not U.S.J., Shigaraki, and Kibutsuji? He had heard about the reincarnations of late demon slayers (there was a chart in the office in some folder with everyone's names and addresses. The HPSC loved to keep tabs), yet he had a feeling it wasn't that either.

"What's wrong?" There was nothing left to do but be direct. "You don't look satisfied."

As if (Y/n) could ever be satisfied. She rubbed at her temples, squeezing her eyes shut to prevent the face of her brother from overtaking her vision. "Family drama, nothing new."

"Ah." Hawks's smile was dry, he didn't want to sugarcoat his words. "They aren't good for you. You know that." (Y/n) nodded, she felt like a child under his gaze. "Yeah. I won't be seeing them for a long, long time."

Hawks studied (Y/n)'s expression carefully. It was icy, just like the first time they met, exhaustion melting through the cracks. "People change over time, nothing stays the same forever," he said. "And about what happened last time, I apologise. That was unfair to you, (Y/n)."

"I understand your reasons." Yet there was a burning in her chest, an anger that made her stomach churn and her insides ache. She knew. Knew how it was going to be from the start. Of course times change, of course people change, and of course people were going to lie, cheat, and steal their way through life--it was just reality.

(Y/n) swallowed hard the lump in her throat. The words fell from her throat hard and fast, scratching against her lips like sandpaper. "It's just...you nearly break my trust because of the HPSC. I talked to Yoriichi, and I thought for sure that you all really were against me. And now you're here, not because you were ordered to like I thought, but because you truly, genuinely wanted to be here." She paused, heaving out a long, long sigh. "And if that is the case, which I can tell by the way you keep staring at me--"

Hawks raised his hands in mock surrender, averting his gaze to the side. "In my defense, you have an intimidating face!"

"--I'd say yes, you do have a point and I can forgive you because I know your intentions are honest." She shook her head. "You give me a headache, Hawks. If you had just told me sooner about what was happening, a lot could have been avoided. And yes, you said you like being honest, but sometimes, you don't come across as that."

For a good, long hard minute, Hawks felt like he was looking at a stranger. There was no reflection to compare himself to, no thought of I know you (because, yes, sometimes he saw fragments of his past in others), no thoughts besides--

"You changed." Hawks blurted out. Maybe it was the lack of tears, the lack of vulnerability he was used to seeing even with the ice that frosted over. Or maybe it was the look of peace that really wasn't peace on (Y/n)'s face. "You look like you've accepted your fate. Like you know exactly how things will turn out."

A harsh chuckle escaped (Y/n)'s lips. "No, not really. I just know it will end in death."

Not peace, never was or could have been peace, only acceptance. Acceptance for the fact that there was little anyone could change about today, tomorrow, and the days after that.

Hawks felt his chest clench uncomfortably. "I don't want to give you hope, but it could change. We don't know for sure what's gonna happen." He didn't like this feeling, the one that made his throat tighten and his hands all sweaty when they weren't supposed to be sweaty. He was trained not to get nervous like this, not to fear when things were uncertain and dangerous.

But Hawks had a soft spot for Chisaki (Y/n), the girl he found all bloody and battered in the middle of a busy intersection. It had been clear blue skies that day, not a single cloud in sight, only for her to show up from the sky and hit the ground like a meteor. It was a miracle she didn't die, one Hawks knew came from the power of Kibutsuji Muzan. A power so deadly it consumed (Y/n) day by day.

The moon seemed to glow a little brighter in contrast to the darkness. Clouds cleared from the sky, where stars finally shone through faintly, much too faintly. It was always hard to see them in comparison to the deep wilderness, where only villages and small towns existed. The world was much bigger than (Y/n) remembered, where evil found ways to hide in the crevices of peace, right under everyone's noses (like always).

There was a ruffle from Hawk's wings. He checked the time, frowning to himself. "I don't know when we'll see each other again," he was slow to break the quiet, hand never leaving (Y/n)'s shoulder, "but take care of yourself. I'll be watching you during the Sports' Festival, cheering you on."

Once, long ago, (Y/n) had yearned only for the defeat of Kibutsuji. Once, she had thought it would be an end-all-be all. Now, she wasn't so sure. Things were much more complicated, much more divided in the hero world.

"Thanks."

And Hawks, who had traveled all this way to see her, was a light in the dark, a reminder that not everyone was out to get her. It sure felt like it, but he was different (he had to be). Even with the lack of chipper in his voice, the hills he had to climb each time the sun rose, he was still bright with that laid-back smile on his face.

(Y/n) put her hand over his and gave it a squeeze on her shoulder. She lost her brother, her childhood friend, and whatever hope was left of finding peace. Little time could be spared on grief, on the pain that ached and burned in her chest.

"I'll do my best," (Y/n) found reassurance in Hawks's presence, "so watch me." She blocked out the memory of her brother, the memory of Hari who used to laugh beside her. They could do as they pleased for all she cared. When the time came, she would come back to them, stronger than before. And once that happened, she would show them no mercy.

A fond smile adorned Hawks's lips that made his scruffy face soft. "I'll be waiting for you. How about a future internship with your favourite hero?"

(Y/n) found it within to return the smile, that aching in her chest pausing for a single moment, a fraction of a second. Time moved on, nothing waited, and like Kyojurou would tell her, it was time to set her heart ablaze. "I'd like that," flames sparked and grew in her eyes, "thank you, Hawks."

A warm pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders and she rested her head on his shoulder, where the soft fur of his coat rubbed against her cheeks. It was warm in his arms, reassuring.

Akaza walked with (Y/n) to school the next day. He showed up at her door, bright and early without a care in the world, as if nothing could ever go wrong. Yushiro bid the couple goodbye, warning about doing anything funny together (for whatever reason), to which Akaza responded with a sassy roll of his eyes.

(Y/n) gave Akaza a quick debrief of last night. He didn't seem too alarmed, but by the way his gaze kept drifting and his eyes followed seemingly every little thing in sight, something was wrong. He was quieter than usual, quieter than he usually ever was.

"Okay, what's wrong?" (Y/n) didn't like secrets (especially after big ones), nor did she like the way Akaza kept saying "uh-huh" and "ohhh" to everything she talked about. It was a serious topic too, yet he seemed disinterested. "You're not even listening to me, are you?"

Akaza's blue, blue eyes dampened. He intertwined his hand with (Y/n)'s, giving it a squeeze. "The Sports' Festival is coming up, isn't it? How are you feeling about that?" She looked at him funny, as if he grew another head (which could have happened if he wanted to). "That's something I assume my classmates worry over," she said, "but I can't see a reason to think of it as more than training."

It was clear the Sports' Festival wasn't on Akaza's mind, but he kept up the charade and changed to a different topic. "If I'm alive, what are the chances of other Upper Moons also being reincarnated? Your friends are alive and so is Ubuyashiki. The odds are stacked against the Corps unless they find new allies. Even then, we are unaware of Kibutsuji's new strength. He has grown much stronger."

That was a thought (Y/n) tried not to think about. She pursed her lips together, shaking her head. "It's my job to keep Kibutsuji under control. As long as I keep him at bay we have nothing to worry about."

Yet she worried. They both worried over the possibilities that hung heavy above their heads.

"I just..." The unsaid filled Akaza's mind, visions of red eyes and biting words filling his mind. He was powerless against his Master, there was nothing to do. "When the time comes, we have to have a plan." And that thought scared him. Because that was more than he should have said.

"Once the first term at U.A. ends, a group by the name the League of Villains will kidnap Chisaki (Y/n)," he had said. "See to it that she does not sabotage that plan. She must be captured.

But it wasn't like Akaza could just tell (Y/n). Kibutsuji could read his mind, and if he could read his mind, then there was no way to warn anyone before the time came. All he could do was watch with bated breath in hopes that it would turn out okay.

"We'll figure it out later," Akaza concluded, forcing a smile. "Come on, we'll be late."

(Y/n) only looked at him more before nodding. It was quiet the whole way to school, even the moment Akaza dropped her off at her classroom. He sent her one last smile, as if to be reassuring. But all it did was make (Y/n) frown and look at him sceptically.

"It'll be fine," Akaza said. (Y/n) sighed, shaking her head. "If you don't want to tell me, I can't force you, can I?"

"No," Akaza agreed (but a part of him wish she had). "You can't." And then he parted ways, disappearing down the hall as more than a figure in the background.

(Y/n)'s jaw tensed as she entered the classroom, head swimming. It was as lively as ever. 1-A always seemed to have something going on, even when there was nothing. A flash of red hair caught her eyes as she sat down, silently bracing herself for the rambunctious presence of Kirishima--her self-proclaimed "best friend".

He started asking about "the boy who's kinda ripped" and about where he was from and if he was a third year (he was). When (Y/n) explained slowly that Akaza was her boyfriend, Kirishima's jaw hit the ground.

And whole classroom came to a screeching halt.

Ashido practically leapt out of her seat, eyes wider than plates. "You have a boyfriend?!" she gasped. "What year is he in? Who is he? What's his Quirk?!" Uraraka joined in, stars in her eyes. "How did you meet him?! What's the story?!"

Kirishima and Kaminari had shut down like a computer restarting. "Boyfriend?" they echoed.

Red crawled up (Y/n)'s neck. She rested a hand over her face, brows knit together. "It's...not a big deal." Because Akaza really was just a boy (whom she loved, whom she'd die for). "He's just...I've known him for a while."

From somewhere in the front of the room, Bakugou began to growl. "Can everyone shut the fuck up! Who gives a shit about boyfriends!"

And then there was more yelling. (Y/n) rubbed at her temples, wishing desperately to crawl out the window and run away. Really, Akaza was just a boy. A really suave, handsome, strong boy, but whatever. In the grand scheme of things, it really shouldn't be that big of a shock, right? Kids this age started dating. Falling in love. It was normal...right?

"Everyone!" called Iida. "Class is about to start, please settle down before the teacher comes! And please stop, you're embarrassing Chisaki!"

That last part only made (Y/n) turn red in the face. Did Iida really have to include that?

Begrudgingly, whines of protest and "fineeeee" filled the room before everyone took their seats. Bakugou huffed to himself, those angry eyes meeting hers in disgust. (Y/n) looked straight back at him with a scowl. "Who do you think you're looking at?"

Silence. It lasted approximately two seconds, and then--

"Hah?! I'm looking at you, ass wipe! Who else?!"

"Don't call me that."

"Shut the fuck up, I can call you whatever the hell I want!"

"That's just rude." (Y/n) flatly said, eyes ice cold. She began shuffling through her bag, shaking her head as swear words echoed in her ears. She was, in a sense, use to the verbal abuse from her run-ins with the Wind Hashira, who really did like to shove people out of his way (ever so rudely).

But this was as normal as normal got.

The end of the day came rather slowly. It was a struggle. Why did she have to learn math? Who was going to walk up to her mid fight and ask how to do the quadratic formula? Right. No one, because who had time for that?

The bell rang after last period. (Y/n) practically jumped to her feet, ready to absolutely book it from this wretched place. She placed a hand to the door and slung her bag over her shoulder. Finally, finally, finally home free!

The door slid open. A crowd of chatty students crowded around the entrance, raising fists into the air as if they were ready to riot. The relief in (Y/n)'s heart visibly drained from her face. "What's this all about?"

The chattering came to an abrupt stop and the crowd turned to stare at (Y/n) as if she were about to slice them to bits.

"They're crowding the door?" Mineta inquired. He squeezed past Midoriya, stopping dangerously close to (Y/n)'s side. She shuffled a little to the right. Mineta followed her. (Y/n) shuffled a little back. He followed again.

Okay, what was his problem?

"Move it, extra!" Bakugou barked. He shoved Mineta to the side and filled in the spot beside (Y/n). Thankfully, it was enough to keep her from any prying eyes.

"They're scoping out the competition, retard." Bakugou said it as if (Y/n) were stupid. "They wanna see the students who went through the villain gang. Checking us out before the big battle, huh?"

The aggressive tone made (Y/n) turn to Bakugou questioningly. "Are you talking about the Sports' Festival?" Bakugou pretended not to hear the question and glowered at the students. "It's pointless to try, so why don't you fuck off, goddamn mob."

Ah, how diplomatic. Of course provoking the already angry students was just the perfect way to get them to move the hell away from the door so they could all go home! The mob, naturally, began to yell again. Incoherent words about beating the competition, and showing the arrogant class 1-A what they were made of.

From the back of the classroom, Iida raced forward and threw out a hand sternly. "You can't just go calling people 'mob' and swear words off the bat!"

A boy with gravity-defying hair parted through the crowds, eyeing everyone with bored eyes. "I came to see what you kids are made of, but I didn't think you'd be this arrogant." He furrowed his brows irritably. "Are all the kids enrolled in the Department of Heroics like this?"

(Y/n) frowned. The hard stares and glares of disapproval reminded her of the first time she met the Hashira. Thankfully though, these guys were all idiots, the lot of them. Harmless like flies. "Bakugou, just leave." (Y/n) said. "Let's go."

"Ah?! What'd'ya mean, you ass?!"

The purple haired guy sent Bakugou a look of disapproval. "If any of you think I'm disillusioned, look at yourself. Insulting your classmate who didn't do anything to you. Pathetic." He rubbed the back of his head like Aizawa Sensei often did. "You know, there are lots of kids who in the General Department or others because they failed the Heroics one."

(Y/n) met his gaze intensely and he glanced awkwardly--no, angrily--to the side. For some reason, she felt like he hated her already.

"Based on the results of the sports festival," the boy added, "people can go under review and be transferred to the Heroics course. And the reverse is a possible outcome." He paused, a spark of determination in his eyes. "'Scoping out the competition'? If anything, a General Ed kid like me is thinking, 'Hey? Why not pull the rug out from under those Heroics kids while they're on their high horses?'"

The air thickened with tension.

"This is a declaration of war."

Those five minutes by that mob of angry students had to be the longest in (Y/n)'s life. She wasn't too keen on drawing attention to herself, much less, making a scene (gods forbid). And what was worse? Bakugou so happened to leave the building at the same time as her. Now they walked side by side, awkwardly trying to out-walk the other down the front steps.

"Stop following me, extra!"

"Stop walking at the same pace as me, Bakugou."

He bared his teeth at (Y/n) and she glared right back, eyes ice cold. The stare off could have gone on an hour, or even worse, an eternity. It was only broken when a crow began to squawk, breaking the tension. (Y/n) huffed to herself. This was a trivial matter, she shouldn't pay Bakugou any mind. He was just a kid--

"I don't think you're shit."

(Y/n) rounded on Bakugou, mouth slightly agape. "What did I do to you?"

"You're always sitting in the back trying to act mysterious. Get a life! And you're so damn annoying, yet somehow everyone's paying attention to you because you think you're hot shit after U.S.J.. Fucker. I'll beat the shit out of you."

(Y/n) didn't understand why Bakugou was picking fights. "The only reason I ever had an exchange with you is because of Kirishima. I don't think we've ever talked besides two or three separate occasions," she said flatly. "You have no reason to hate me."

"Like hell I want to talk to you!" Bakugou shoved a finger in (Y/n)'s face and jabbed her in the chest. "I'm gonna beat the fuck out of you! And then you're not gonna think you're so damn cool anymore, got it?! You're gonna lose to me at the Sports' Festival, just watch!"

Ah. So that's what this was about.

Before (Y/n) could get a single word in, Bakugou stalked away (he walked very strangely), grumbling to himself about how lame people are and how annoying the world is. (Y/n) hoped he could get over himself soon.

"That was strange."

Very, very strange (but she's seen stranger).

Modern Era Secrets!

-Bakugou has been watching (Y/n) since the first day of class. Talk about creepy!
-Hawks was starving all day! Poor guy.
-Midoriya wants to be friends with (Y/n) but he's very shy. It took him a lot of courage to ask about her Quirk, you go Midoriya!

Sorry I've been gone for so long everyone! I hope the flow of this story wasn't disrupted too badly. I ended up changing my major and now am switching schools for my second year of college. Wish me luck, science is very hard, and not my forte, but I hope to improve soon. In the meantime, I hope you all can enjoy this story. Coming back to it a year later, it feels so over dramatic at times because I projected a lot of my inner emotions onto the characters. I hope from here on out it can feel more realistic.

Thank you all for your support until now. I hope you can continue reading this story!

Chapter Text

"Watch me."

Those words echoed louder than any scream. There was something wrong about the way (Y/n) had accepted Hawks back into her life, something so terribly horrible about the way she seemed so at peace yet not at the same time. She had smiled at him, sure, but in the back of his mind, it was only eerie. Scary.

Ever since the beginning of school, (Y/n) had lost her strength to care about anything besides Kibutsuji. He ruled her in a tight grasp no matter how little she acknowledged it, and a part of Hawks began to understand. Understand why (Y/n) had been so quick to forgive, so quick to move on and pretend as if nothing happened. She had begun to smile, begun to laugh.

But there was little joy filling Hawks's heart and he knew it was the same for (Y/n). It was so wrong, so out of place for someone like her who had been through hell and back. Hawks's feathers ruffled in the night, a sound that broke through the silence that made goosebumps rise on his skin.

(Y/n) was a liar, wasn't she? A big, fat, stupid liar who thought she could run away from her feelings if she pretended it was all okay. It was stupid and it was silly, but Hawks had a feeling she didn't realise it herself. Maybe later in the day tomorrow or after, it would hit her like a rush, and all those feelings she bottled up would resurface past the exhaustion. Past the anger she tried so hard to conceal.

It would be an ugly sight, one that would tear her to shreds. Then there would be nothing left of her but a shell, an empty shell colder than ice.

Hawks could only blame himself, take all the guilt and throw it to his shoulders to repent. If he had been quicker to tell the truth, quicker to explain things, then maybe, maybe (Y/n) wouldn't have become so afraid.

But Hawks, who was supposed to be the fasted, was too late.

----------

The breeze tickled (Y/n)'s cheeks from where she sat in the courtyard. The grass was soft, a welcome reminder that spring had finally began after a harsh, cold winter. She savoured the fresh air, filling her lungs with the scent of dirt and flowers and grass.

Then a scratchy voice broke the calm and (Y/n) cringed. She had just recovered from her last battle. The stitches in her shoulder took absolutely forever to heal, and even now, its phantom sting made the skin and muscle hurt.

"Go southwest! Southwest with Shinazugawa! A demon has been reported tormenting a town! Southwest! Southwest!"

(Y/n) stood and stretched out her stiff limbs. She followed the crow out of the Butterfly mansion, brow knit tightly together. In the dirt pathway stood a familiar white haired man. She stared blankly, watching as Shinazugawa's forever scowl grew deeper. Wait, she was supposed to be paired up with him?

"You're Rengoku's Tsuguko, why would I need you?" Shinazugawa began down the road, breaking into a jog. (Y/n) followed, doing her best to match his pace. As expected of any Hashira, he was extremely fast and nimble on his feet. "Rengoku-san isn't here."

"Yeah, I can see that, smart ass." Shinazugawa huffed. "If you're gonna get in my way, at least keep up." He quickened his pace, and all (Y/n) could do was follow. She silently thanked Akaza for his training, if not for him, she were sure she would have made herself look like a fool.

The run lasted a little under an hour without stops, and in that time frame, they must have traveled through two different districts. A raindrop fell from the sky, then another and another, until it finally turned into a downpour. The socks (Y/n) wore were water resistant, but they only lasted so long with her zori. She shook out her feet as they came to a stop, biting her tongue at the feeling of mud seeping through the seams.

"Would you quit playing around?" Shinazugawa snapped. His expression was as unpleasant as their second ever meeting, which was much too soon after their first where he and Iguro burst into her room at the Butterfly Mansion. It was coincidental. Rengoku had brought (Y/n) with him to Oyakata-sama's home, where they both ran into Shinazugawa. That first introduction was extremely awkward, and since then, the two hadn't seen each other once.

It was rare anyway for the hashira to see each other, and now that (Y/n) stood beside Shinazugawa, she felt self-conscious. Sure, there wasn't anything she could do wrong (unless she missed killing the demon, or allowed an innocent civilian to get hurt), but that usually never happened, and (Y/n) had been a demon slayer for nearly a year by now.

"Chisaki," Shinazugawa called, "move your butt and come here. Why are you standing there like an idiot?"

(Y/n) followed him down a tight alleyway, where rain trailed down roof shingles like waterfalls. "Where are we going?" She made sure to stick close to the walls to avoid it drenching her from head to toe. "Did your crow say anything about this town?"

Shinazugawa stared hard at the one light coming from a little shop. It was odd that someone were still around when the rest of the town seemed so quiet. "No. That stupid crow never tells me anything." (Y/n) followed his gaze, surveying the street when they emerged into the open. "Me too."

That one little shop really was the only thing open. Everyone else had probably turned in for the night, or too scared to leave their homes due to the lurking demon. Yet somehow, it was a ghost town. Not a single soul in sight. (Y/n) made her way towards the shop. "I'm sure we can find someone to ask, that'll be the only way we find out."

Shinazugawa wanted to protest, but he knew (Y/n) was right. "Don't do anything stupid," he said. "What if the shop keeper's the demon?"

"Then we'll just kill him," (Y/n) answered, unfazed. "I don't see a problem with that." Shinazugawa went quiet for a moment and paused in his step. He seemed to be quieter than (Y/n) remembered, as if he had something on his mind.

The scowl on Shinazugawa's face seemed to deepen. "For someone who just got out of the Butterfly estate, you lack caution. Are you trying to disgrace your teacher or are you just stupid?"

(Y/n)'s expression hardened like ice. "I would never disgrace Rengoku-san. You're mistaken to think I would do such to the person who took me in." At that, Shinazugawa seemed to perk up in interest. He thought for a moment, but didn't ask and instead sucked his teeth. "Fine, whatever, just get to the shop already. I'm surprised you're not a loudmouth like the first couple times we met."

"You'll find I'm full of surprises," (Y/n) dully stated.

The front doors of the shop were wide open. Little displays with figurines and bowls sat under umbrellas for display, unbothered by the unfortunate weather. If not for the cold chill in (Y/n)'s bones, she would have liked to sit here with a nice cup of hot tea in the warm light of the lamps.

"Welcome!"

The voice startled (Y/n) out of her skin. She tensed, lips pursing. "Hello," she tried to sound friendly, unassuming. "You have a lovely shop here." The shopkeeper beamed. "Aw, aren't you such a sweet little girl. How old are you? I have a daughter about your age, her name's Kana."

Shinazugawa stepped in front of (Y/n) with a look of disgust on his face. He was all business, no small talk. "Save your breath. Why are you the only one here at night? All the other houses are quiet, it's suspicious for a town even if it's in teh middle of nowhere."

There was an odd glint in the shopkeeper's eye. He pulled on a straw hat, placing a finger to his mouth as if revealing a secret. "Oh, them? I've been trying to tell them not to listen to old fables, but sadly, it's just me here now. Even my dear Kana left, how sad. I keep the shop open to travelers like you. It's exciting seeing people!"

Odd. Only this shop was open in the whole town? (Y/n) peered over Shinazugawa's broad back. If they wanted more information, she would have to think of something quick to make conversation. "You have uh, lovely ceramics here." She tried for a smile and it was so forced and lop-sided that it made Shinazugawa cringe to himself.

She's kinda ugly when she does that, he thought to himself.

(Y/n) picked up a small ceramic doll. Its black hair was perfectly moulded with a coat of shiny lacquer. She turned to meet Shinazugawa's eye, only for the world to turn completely black. The shop had disappeared, leaving only a single lantern to pierce the black abyss.

It stood in what seemed to be the center of all things, casting long shadows by (Y/n)'s feet. She squinted at it, a hand finding its way to her hilt. New note to self, never touch anything, no matter how enticing. "Hello?" The muffled sound of her voice bounced against the darkness. (Y/n) held out a hand and felt her way around, only to touch a smooth wall. She followed it in a square.

A square? She frowned and crouched in front of the lantern, poking at it with a finger. It tilted to the side, but not enough to fall, casting its little light around the box she was now caged in. Great, now she was stuck in this illusion? Blood Demon Art?

(Y/n) unsheathed her sword and cut through the dark walls. It fell apart easily, falling to the wet, damp ground. Rain hit her skin and she silently thanked the heavens. But as she turned around, her senses kicked in and alarms went off in her head. The town was the same as it had been, yet the shop was gone and all the lights were on, filling the streets with life that shouldn't have been.

Yet there was not a single person in sight.

"Shinazugawa-san?" (Y/n) called. "Hello?" A hand suddenly grabbed her by the wrist and she recoiled, as if burned. A little girl with white hair and red eyes met her own, trembling in her own skin. "You left me."

This wasn't real. Everything (Y/n) knew of her life back at home was over. There was no going back, no turning back time any further when the damage had been done. "What's happening?" (Y/n) held her blade tightly, turning her back indefinitely. "Shinazugawa--!"

"Now you're running away."

(Y/n) came to a stop. 

"That's all you ever do. You pretend it doesn't hurt," the voice began to grow deeper, distorted, like a burnt out disk. "And now you don't even know who you are. I searched through your memories, and some of it doesn't make sense, but one thing is true: you're a coward!" A sluggish, slow laugh echoed through the town, filling its depths with its cruel voice. "I thought becoming someone you knew for a bit would work, but I guess you buried that too, huh?"

(Y/n) breathed and raised her blade.

Breath of Ice, Second Form: Melting River!

She slashed in a clean straight line, only for the demon to disappear. So that was a decoy. She kept her guard up, waiting patiently for the next strike. The demon reappeared on the rooftops. He was tall, with baggy trousers and a loose, plain kimono. The light from the houses reflected in his eyes, and that was when (Y/n) saw it, the engraved Kanji for Lower Moon One. 

"One of the twelve Kizuki," she muttered to herself. "What a surprise."

The demon's lips curled into a grin and his nails lengthened, curling around the little bowl in his hand. The ceramic shimmered under the lantern's light, casting long shadows along the ground. Then the town shifted and the world became distantly familiar. It was painful looking at paved roads and parked cars, street lights and drowned out stars. (Y/n) stared at the intersection, a shiver running down her spine. This was her hometown.

"Shinazugawa-san!" Her mind began to wander and his grumpy face was harder to remember. "Shinazaugawa Sanemi-san!"

"Shina--" The words suddenly evaporated. There was someone she came all this way with, right? No, but if she had, then that person would surely be here with her. (Y/n) wandered through the streets and wound up in front of a house. There was something strange about it, she felt like she had been gone for years.

And then there was a white haired woman on the doorstep. She had a lovely smile, adorning as her gaze fell upon (Y/n)'s. "You've been gone for so long, I was beginning to worry. Your Oyaji was asking about you earlier, where have you been?" Auntie took (Y/n) by the hand. She suddenly felt small like a little kid again. But hadn't she always been?

Inside, on the table was a freshly made meal. "I made this for you," Auntie said sweetly. "Sit down, you must be hungry after being out all day."

This was wrong. (Y/n) felt it in her bones, a tingling that sent her mind reeling. She remained standing, eyeing the hot food intensely. Her hands felt empty, as if there were something that should have been there but wasn't.

The front door suddenly burst open. "Get away from her." A white haired man pointed his blade towards Auntie's throat. She was still, that adorning look in her red eyes vanishing. "You aren't supposed to be here," she seemed unbothered despite the sneer pulling at her lip, "you're ruining our lunch."

The white haired boy struck, only to hit air. The speed of his blade was like that of the wind, it slashed at the furniture, cracking into the wood and tearing it apart. Then Auntie's arm tumbled to the kitchen tiles, painting it red. (Y/n) stared at the blood in confusion, then the white haired boy.

Her mind was clouded, foggy with thoughts that stayed upon her tongue. "Auntie...?"

The woman picked up her arm and the flesh stitched itself back together. She played with something in her sleeve, then let it fall to her side. "Isn't she beautiful? Look at how broken she is. All confused because she can't remember a thing!" The grin rose on her lips and her face began to change. It took form of a shopkeeper, a man, and then back to (Y/n)'s aunt. "She's been hurt by her family, her friends, everyone. Now she slowly wilts away."

The walls began to cave in, that vision of the home sinking and melting like candle wax. It morphed into a room that reminded (Y/n) of that one time she saw a racoon get run over by a car.

The white haired boy began to swing his sword in swift arcs, yet no matter how many times his blade reached the reddened walls or the demon, it only bounced off with an echo. Then something pierced (Y/n)'s skin. It seemed to rip her open, muscle by muscle, forcing her into the wall until she was nearly one with it.

"Chisaki!"

The demon laughed. Her face contorted and the voice of a man came from her throat. "I was a father once," the voice made (Y/n)'s head want to split open, "my daughter Kana and I were healthy and the town was thriving."

The white haired boy continued fighting. (Y/n) watched as blood dripped down her limbs, staining the tiles red. She tried to think, tried to remember what had happened before she ended up in this house that felt like home but wasn't. Her arms were going numb and all feeling in her body left.

"Then our supplies were cut off and everyone began to leave, even the animals. No food, no money. We had nothing to eat and Kana got very sick." The demon paused, put a hand in his sleeve and sighed sadly. "I had to eat her, she was going to die anyway. Sure, I may have hit her a couple times before that and she started to hate me, but that's all the past, right?" A laugh reverberated in the room, filling the space with only its cruel sound. "Stop fighting, you won't win as long as your friend is like that."

Pure rage splattered across the white haired boy's face. He clamored to (Y/n), watching helplessly as her blood pooled at his feet. "Chisaki!" His teeth were gritted so hard that his jaw could break. "Focus on me, try to remember my name! I'm Shinazugawa Sanemi!"

(Y/n)'s brow furrowed. Had she known a boy that looked as brash and tough as him?

"You're Rengoku's stupid tsuguko! We were sent on this mission together because you were the only one around. We met twice beforehand! Once when you were recovering from nearly dying and again at a meeting!" He placed a hand to her cheek and gently shook her. It was clear in his wide eyes that he was praying for her mind to work. "Chisaki! Fucking use your head already!"

Shinazugawa...Rengoku...tsuguko...

(Y/n) shook her head, everything was blurry, foggy like mist. She felt like the world had come to a standstill, where only its center were her, where nothing moved and nothing breathed. She thought back to days ago where she vaguely saw stars, vaguely heard the sound of a calming voice. She felt the sting of a slap across her cheeks, then ice cold water as it filled her lungs as she coughed.

And screeching. It was a shrill sound, one she remembered being paired with pig, useless, a waste of space...

Then nothing. It went blank from there, leaving only a sting in (Y/n)'s heart. "I don't...know you." The look on Shinazugawa's face made her feel guilty. He breathed out a frustrated huff, grip tightening around his sword. He turned a split second before a hand nearly connected with his throat, threatening to crush his windpipe. 

Instead, those bony fingers barely grazed his cheek, spilling blood across his ashen face as he retaliated with a swing. The walls were slowly retracting, closing in as if to swallow them whole. Yet all (Y/n) could think about was the look Shinazugawa had given her. He looked so disappointed, as if he expected more from her.

All of a sudden, Shinazugawa had climbed onto the back of the demon and plunged a hand into its kimono. He cut off the arms in two swipes, then held out the paper triumphantly. "I saw you fiddling with this, I wonder what it does?"

Fear stretched across the demon's face. "Give it back!"

Too late. Shinazugawa wasted no time tearing it in two with his blade. The walls suddenly rumbled, causing the floor to jolt and shake. Arms wrapped around (Y/n)'s shoulders, cradling her to a hard chest as she shut her eyes. Then they were on the ground and it was cold, wet.

A sense of clarity hit (Y/n)'s senses and she realised how tightly Shinazugawa was holding her. He stood, and before she could blink, had raced forward, slicing the demon's head off in a single stroke. The cool rain collected on (Y/n)'s lashes, racing down her face as she met the Hashira before her.

Everything hit with a wave of guilt. How could she have just stood there while Shinazugawa killed the demon?

"I'm sorry," (Y/n) bowed her head just above the muddy ground. "I was completely useless to you and only...got in the way." Shinazugawa gave his blade a shake and sheathed it with a hard scowl. He couldn't exactly blame her for being under the influence of some demon art, but still, it made him angry how she was so easily overtaken. He wondered why the hell she was even a tsuguko, much less Rengoku's.

"Give up demon slaying. Don't disgrace the Rengoku family." Shinazugawa ripped the fabric from his sleeves. He knelt down in the mud, blinking away the rain from his eyes as he wrapped her wounds. "We need to find a place to stay for the night or you're gonna bleed out and die. Besides that, what the hell was that all even about anyway? Is it possible for demons to be mental?"

The last comment was mostly to himself, but (Y/n) couldn't help but cling to it. "It's...nothing special." She hissed as he tightened the wrap on her thigh. "Why?"

Shinazugawa only grunted in response, pulling her up by the hand with that eternal scowl. "The demon had some illusion thing going on. I saw stuff. Your memories. It's not my business though."

(Y/n) wasn't quite sure she heard him right. Maybe it was the loss of blood, maybe it was the fact she was soaked to the bone and violently beginning to shake from the cold. Maybe both. "Okay." Shinazugawa helped support her side, keeping her arm wrapped around his shoulder.

"Damn demons." He huffed and started down the dark road, where puddles and dirt soaked into their shoes. A familiar caw came from the trees, where (Y/n)'s and Shinazugawa's crows emerged with lanterns grasped in their feet. "Mission complete!" one said. "Mission complete! The demon has been slain!" 

The walk was spent in silence, where the two only stopped to give (Y/n) a rest every so often. They eventually found an lively town, where people bustled about to signal the start of another day. The sun was beginning to rise, yet with the cloudy skies, it felt like night. Shinazugawa found a house with the wisteria sign on it--a relieving sight to see. 

The room they were given was warm and cozy, with tatami mats, sets of new clothes, and clean futon. (Y/n) immediately went to take a bath. When she came back (after a grueling amount of time bandaging herself) she found Shinazugawa sitting by the window, people watching. He had already taken a bath too and now sat in a yukata. 

The door slid shut softly and (Y/n) took a seat on her futon. It was warm, soft against her cold skin. Rain pelted gently  against the roof, its scent filtering in through the open window. With the light of a single lantern, she couldn't quite make out Shinazugawa's expression. It was like he was purposely facing away to avoid eye contact.

"Thank you, for earlier." (Y/n) quietly said. "I should've--"

"I don't care." Shinazugawa didn't tear his eyes from the window. "Just go to sleep, you sound like you're gonna pass out."

A sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips and she and laid down, pulling the sheets close. Her face felt hot and her limbs burned with a stinging pain. She couldn't be bothered to think about it too much, eventually, it would dull, and then go away. What remained were those painful words, the fact that she was a disgrace to her mentor.

"Why did you become a demon slayer?" 

(Y/n) blinked to herself. She never took Shinazugawa as someone to start conversation. "Someone I loved died by Kibutsuji's hand," she flatly said. "Simple as that." It was the same old story any other person had. Their family, a friend, someone they loved had been taken, so they went out for revenge in hopes of changing something (anything). 

When Shinazugawa finally tore his gaze from the window, he wasn't satisfied. There was a disturbed look in his eyes, as if he had just seen someone being torn apart and eaten alive. "I was searching the shop when you disappeared. There were corpses in the back rooms with leftover bones and suicide letters from the victims before they were held captive. The people who hadn't fled had their own problems."

The lantern flickered ominously.

"So the demon ate them. Every single one of them." 

(Y/n)'s brow furrowed. "Well, he was a demon..."

Shinazugawa bared his teeth and it shone with the warm light. "Shut the fuck up smart ass and let me finish! What I'm saying is, he liked to look through people's memories, then use it against them. He preyed on people who had bad lives and no reason to live, which was why he was interested in you." 

And what about it? Why would Shinazugawa care? He barely even knew her, much less seemed to like her at all. "What are you trying to say?"

"If you keep going around like that, you're gonna get yourself killed." There was a darkness in his eyes, a hardness that could only come from experiencing the night. "When you were under that demon's blood art, you didn't even try to fight. You just let it happen--like a coward." He closed the window and laid down on his futon. "Show some backbone, there won't be a next time."

The words of the demon echoed in (Y/n)'s head: coward. Maybe she was with the way the past left pains of yesterday. Or maybe she was worse than a coward, a thing so lowly, so pitiful that there weren't even words to describe it.

The single lantern illuminated the angry scars across Shinazugawa's face, burning hot, casting willowy shadows. "Your resolve to be a demon slayer is strong, but you're careless with your body and your life. You're not much older than my little brother, yet you're already covered in scars. And even now, you're not even bothered by injuries that could've killed you--again. Take care of yourself. Don't be a dumb ass." He blew out the flame and closed his eyes. "Don't let your training go to waste."

Light leaking through the cloudy skies filtered through the window's cracks. It gently fell upon Shinazugawa's face, almost angelic across his softened features. He was peaceful in sleep, nothing like the mean-looking hashira who terrorized demons.

"And don't look so damn sad. What I mean is," his voice was feather light through his sleep, "don't give up on living."

---

(Y/n) awoke in a cold sweat with a shiver. The classroom was silent. As she sat up, Aizawa turned to stare, brows furrowing. "This is detention," he blandly said, "you're not supposed to be sleeping." Yet he hadn't made any moves to wake her since she fell asleep last period. School had long ended, leaving only the two in the vast, empty classroom.

Sleep had not come easy to (Y/n) for the past couple days. She found it hard to close her eyes, lest that damned demon show his forsaken face in her most vulnerable moments. Sometimes she tossed and turned all night, only to open her eyes an hour later and see the sun rise. 

It was quiet for a couple long moments before Aizawa finally had the urge to break it.

"Chisaki."

(Y/n) rubbed at her eyes, stifling a yawn. She waited for Aizawa to continue, patiently making eye contact. He sighed to himself, and if he could use his hands properly, would have ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not here to pry, but I can't say I haven't been curious. Especially after last week's meeting, I told you how all of the teachers are suspicious." He paused, leaning back in his chair tiredly. Those bandages looked heavy despite their actual weight. "How do you and Tsugikuni know each other?"

A tight frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips. She thought of the last time they talked, a bitter exchange of words, tears that burned her face with a bitterness in her mouth. She thought of her meeting with Hawks only a couple days ago, how she forgave him even when her heart said no.

But that aching had begun to fade. It was numb, a mere prick she couldn't quite care to think of when it was already so deeply embedded in her heart. She knew a part of her feared pushing Hawks away like how she began pushing Yoriichi away.

"Tsugikuni Sensei is a relative of mine," (Y/n) vaguely said. "I hadn't known him for long, if that's what you mean. I don't know why he defended me." Because why would he when he, too, conspired against her like Hawks? Why when he could easily kill her the second he wanted to and end what suffering she clawed through?

Aizawa frowned this time, puzzled. "What do you mean?" (Y/n) shrugged carelessly. She didn't have the energy to spend time on things that happened weeks ago. "We aren't on good terms right now."

"I see." Yet Aizawa couldn't really see. Even with the bandages that didn't obscure his vision, he couldn't make out the expression (Y/n) wore on her face. She looked torn between two things, conflicted. "I don't know if this is any consolation, but Tsugikuni spoke highly of you."

A scoff escaped (Y/n)'s lips and a part of her wondered if it was Kibutsuji who had scoffed with her. "What is there for him to speak of? I should thank him for our last conversation." She didn't know why things hurt so much today when she was fine while meeting Hawks what felt like yesterday.

There had been no malice in her voice then, no hatred when the two spoke. And at the end, she even forgave him, even laughed with him for a couple moments as if it were more natural than breathing. And as she replayed those memories in her head, she thought of how she had learned to accept the world for what it was, to accept her own misfortunes as reality.

The anger dissipated in (Y/n)'s chest. Her eyes became cloudy, not that clear golden shine that Aizawa saw on the first day of school. "Whatever Tsugikuni said, I don't want to know. It doesn't matter anyway." Because soon, (Y/n) knew she would die. It could be today, tomorrow, she didn't quite know.

Soon though, her time would come.

"You looked tired." Aizawa stared at (Y/n) as if she were an anomaly. "If you're still thinking about U.S.J., it's fine. These injuries would have happened anyway."

(Y/n) shrugged, but to Aizawa, it was an unsettling sight. He had recalled a couple days ago where she looked more normal than she ever had been. Interacting with students, daring to even smile. Then it had faded just as fast, leaving but a shell of who she had been before.

Aizawa had seen this before in all the times he was a hero, but he didn't understand what could have caused this. The rest of the class had been spared any trauma, even Midoriya who apparently had serious injuries that were magically healed. "Chisaki, I'm not gonna lecture you."

And even if Aizawa Sensei would, (Y/n) wouldn't hear it. Was this supposed to be an interrogation? A way to pry every secret from her? But he said he wouldn't pry, even though his eyes lied. Just like (Y/n)'s. She shut her eyes, wishing her head would stop spinning with thoughts that had no direction.

"Sensei," (Y/n) had stilled so suddenly it looked like she had passed, "what would you do if the people around you lied to you?"

Aizawa's brows knit. "What do you mean?"

(Y/n) recalled the way she had spoken to Hawks, the way she had looked at him as if everything had been forgotten to the past. She should have been more angry, more resentful. Yet the strength had been sapped from her bones that evening, sucked dry by the monster living within.

"If everyone all told you one thing but went behind your back to do what you thought they wouldn't, what would you do? Now they're also apologising, telling you they had reasons when really, it could've been solved so easily if they had just told the truth."

It was hard to read Aizawa's expression under all his bandages. He looked unsettled, disturbed by the dead look in (Y/n)'s eyes. "Well, some people have their reasons," he closed his eyes for a moment, "but depending on how serious it is, the damage might be too much. How close are you with this person?"

"He's...important to me." (Y/n) pursed her lips. "And he's had my back for a while. I'd like to think we're good friends. There's also this other person too who has taught me things I never knew I could do. He's a mentor." Aizawa hummed to himself. "Do you want to forgive either of them?"

After all that had happened, were either of those two people worthy of her forgiveness? Hawks could have been honest with (Y/n) from the start. He could have pulled her aside, told her the truth, and left it at that. But then again, he had said there were too many people watching him, too many people listening. But who were those people? The HPSC wouldn't have gone so far as to put microphones on Hawks. Perhaps he meant Kibutsuji? He was always listening, even now.

And as for Yoriichi, it was clear his heart was kind. The moment (Y/n) had been in his presence, she felt only clear blue skies. His heart was pure like that, a shining piece of hope and love that she had pushed away.

"Well," (Y/n) frowned to herself. The answer sat on her tongue, but it stuck in her throat. Her anger had been justified. All that pain, all that frustration piling onto her shoulders had been too much, and it was with the both of them that she snapped. Finally shattered.

Still, the vision of Yoriichi's warm eyes the colour of sunsets, the sight of Hawks as he fluttered down from the skies--they had never meant to hurt her. Not like her brother who deliberately tossed her aside. He had practically disowned her, left her to her own devices because it was "better".

How unfair. How unfair her brother had been, how unfair the world had been, and how unfair Yoriichi and Hawks had been. But the way they looked at (Y/n) was different. The way they were still here even when she avoided them--made her open her eyes.

A long, hard sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips. "Yes," she finally admitted. "I want to forgive them."

"Why?" Aizawa's voice like gravel was calming to (Y/n)'s raging tides. She let it guide her thoughts, stringing them into something she could finally understand. "Because even though they both broke my trust, it's because of them that I'm here now. My mentor had been there for me when I thought I would lose, and my friend had saved me. I bet he faced terrible consequences for being by my side all those times. But still..."

There was a pained look on (Y/n)'s face that broke the ice in her eyes. "If they had just been honest from the start, if they had just told me..."

"Talk to them." Aizawa suggested. "Ask them yourself and hear them out. If it bothers you that much, be direct. Detention is over, consider that your homework assignment." (Y/n) grabbed her things and bowed to Aizawa on the way out. "Thank you."

He rubbed the back of his head. "Thank me by getting some rest."

The school looked empty, save for the few straggling students in clubs. Yoriichi's classroom wasn't far down the hall, but there wasn't much chance he stuck around after school when he could just go home.

 A presence, warm as sunlight, caressed (Y/n)'s skin. She turned around, lips pursing tight as her gaze met a pair of kind eyes. "Yoriichi."

"I had a feeling I'd see you," he said. "Is something the matter, (Y/n)?" She eyed the classroom door, frowning tightly. It wasn't humiliating speaking to Yoriichi, but it was a stab to her pride. It felt like crawling back to him. "Can we...talk?" Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. At this, Yoriichi looked surprised. "Of course."

Somehow, the plain classroom felt warm and cosy. It must have been the effect of Yoriichi's presence, because as soon as the door shut, a wave of serenity passed through the air. (Y/n) sat on one of the desks, gripping its surface between her fingertips. "About last time when I yelled at you, I just wanted to...I don't know."

Where was she supposed to start?

There was a softness in Yoriichi's eyes red like the sunrise. "It's alright, (Y/n)." He took a seat on top of the desk across from her. "I apologise, you have every right to resent me. We believed keeping the knowledge of Kibutsuji from you would protect you, but instead it did the opposite."

It had opened a rift, tore a wound in (Y/n)'s heart that shone in her eyes. And no matter how hard she tried to hide it, the pain was forever present. "I spoke to Oyakata-sama the other day," Yoriichi added. "He also agreed and wished we had done a better job of handling the situation. It was through our ignorance that we hurt you, and for that, I apologise over a thousand times."

Yoriichi suddenly knelt to the ground in a bow. His forehead touched the floor, where his long burgundy hair swept behind his back. "(Y/n), you don't have to forgive any of us, but sometime, when you're ready, I hope you can begin to rely on me again and trust that I have your best interests in mind."

All was quiet, save for the gentle breeze blowing through the window, the hammering of (Y/n)'s heart. The ice in her veins melted and she stumbled to the ground, grabbing Yoriichi by the hands. It was the same as their first meeting in this exact classroom on a sunny, warm day months ago.

And he was doing it again, apologising, grieving over the fact that being the strongest didn't mean he was useful. (Y/n) wanted to throw up. The anger in her heart seared her insides, sending tremors into her fingertips. She had been wrong twice, so, so wrong. These people cared for her, they really, truly did. Yet she had assumed they were out to get her and had grown suspicious despite all their efforts.

"Stop it," (Y/n) pulled Yoriichi up by the sleeves of his kimono, "stop bowing and apologizing! You're not supposed to be sorry! You all lied to me, so why would you care...?!"

Eyes that burned golden, eyes that were shattered. It hurt to see; hurt to know that Chisaki (Y/n) only suffered and suffered. For the past couple days, it was clear she tried to pretend everything was okay. Yoriichi knew better. Those monsters who lurked in the dark would forever mangle her until she were freed--but that freedom came at a price.

Death. 

And it was clear (Y/n) accepted that as fate. Destiny. Yoriichi's eyes stung, heart wanting to burst in his chest. And instead of breathing a word, saying how he was sorry over and over again, he gently pulled (Y/n) to his chest, cradling her as if she were a small child. 

(Y/n)'s grip loosened around Yoriichi's kimono. She stilled in his arms, heart hammering against her chest. This was wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to be angry and she was supposed to be livid with him and Hawks and everyone who had known the truth all along. Yet she stilled, and he gently pressed her head into his shoulder, rubbing her back soothingly, rocking from side to side. He held her like she were a precious treasure, as if she would shatter. 

"We don't know what the future holds," Yoriichi quietly said. "But I will do everything I can to protect you. You have my word, (Y/n), I am not here to hurt you." And he said it as if there were nothing truer. 

(Y/n) closed her eyes, enveloped by the warmth that was Yoriichi's arms. He really was like the sun, so warm, so gentle. "I hope you really mean that."

"I do." Yoriichi reassured. "So please, rely on Hawks and I. We both care for you very much."

---

The days went by quicker than the blink of an eye. In what felt like an instant, (Y/n) had found herself tossed in with her classmates for the sports' festival.

It was deafening. The sound of cheering and screaming made (Y/n)'s head ache. She followed the rest of her classmates through the stadium's archway, light blinding her vision as she squinted, drinking in the crowds that all came to witness the Festival. U.A.'s Sports' Festival had to be the biggest event in Japan, heck, maybe even the entire world.

Dirt and grass filled (Y/n)'s lungs. It was a welcome smell that served as a reminder of where she once came from. Although this event wasn't important in the grand view of the world, it was something her classmates were willing to put their all into. Maybe, if she felt like it, she would put a little more than the minimum in too.

"YOU'RE HERE FOR CLASS 1-A AMMIRIGHT?!" The booming voice of Present Mic made the crowds go wild. "WHO'S READYYYYYYY?!"

The sun shone brightly against (Y/n)'s skin and she itched at it uncomfortably. The dark colours of her gym uniform weren't helping either, she wished she had an umbrella. In the back of her mind, she heard the voices of Akaza and Kyojurou, who were much more enthusiastic about this event than she ever could be.

Two weeks prior

"You're participating, right?"

(Y/n) side-eyed Akaza as if he had grown another head. It was possible, but she couldn't ever dream of that actually happening. "Am I allowed to drop out?"

The comment made Kyojurou snicker. He opened a bag of chips, shaking his head. "Since U.A. is a hero school, it's part of the curriculum to participate. You can't forfeit even if you want to."

Akaza rested his chin in his hands. He studied (Y/n)'s expression carefully, watching how she flipped open her notebook with disinterest. "You can land yourself an internship afterwards, too. It'll keep you busy."

(Y/n) wasn't sure if she wanted to be busy. "I already talked to Hawks about it, so thanks to him, I'm not considering dropping out if I could."

Both boys stilled, blinking in confusion. They had expected (Y/n) to skip school the day of. Competing without an "actual" reason wasn't her thing. She had always striven for something greater as if there were bigger purposes for her existence. And sure, there was a bigger purpose for her existence, but that didn't mean she always had to think about the death that hung closely over her head. At this new revelation, something prideful sparked in the boys' chests.

The look of surprise on Akaza's face was adorable. "You're not forcing yourself to feel like you want to, right?"

"Of course not. That wouldn't work out well for me."

Kyojurou offered (Y/n) some chips and she took it. "You're also not being forcing yourself to act like you want to either, right?"

She shook her head again. "I told you, I had a talk with Hawks and it changed my mind." Yet a part of her felt the tiniest of guilt for participating in something that had nothing to do with defeating Kibutsuji, who she hadn't heard from since U.S.J., which was nearly a month ago. If he wasn't going to show his face, then she would have to wait, silently coiling until the next strike.

A look of knowing flashed in Kyojurou's eyes. It was almost as if he knew what went on in (Y/n)'s mind. She met his gaze where flames seemed to turn her world orange and red. Memories flashed in her mind, from the day they met to the last second of his breath.

For so long, Kyojurou's and Akaza's deaths weighed on her conscious, haunting the same as a spirit would. Having them sit in front of her very much alive and breathing made the world seem so fake when they were supposed to be dead. She was grateful they could live alongside her, yet the guilt of yesterday made her want to retch in disgust at her own failures.

"(Y/n)," Kyojurou's voice was warm as summer. "You're doing just fine! And I know Hakuji agrees wholeheartedly. You have nothing to worry about besides what's in front of you."

She looked at him carefully, waiting for the unsaid that sat on his lips. When he didn't say anything, she pursed her lips together, nodding slowly. How could Kyojurou have known she felt badly about herself when he didn't have a shred of information from his past?

It was suspicious. (Y/n) said nothing, instead returning her gaze to her forgotten notebook. "We'll just have to see."

Present

The more (Y/n) thought about it, the more suspicious she became of Kyojurou. It wasn't normal for someone who had only just met her to know how to read her facial expressions. At the end of their little chat, even Akaza seemed to notice.

The two had exchanged looks, silently communicating the same question: How much does he know?

But those thoughts had to be put away for now, shelved in order for (Y/n)'s focus to remain on the now. Such as the ice threatening to nick her ankles, or the blasts over her shoulder threatening to singe her skin. She hopped over a patch of sticky purple balls (gross) and slid past whatever stragglers kept blocking her way.

Running away from little tiny teenagers who wanted to show off to get an internship was in short, tedious. It was the same as avoiding lower ranked demons who were all but fodder to (Y/n)'s blade. The only difference that separated the two were, well, the fact that these students were humans with Quirks, not blood demon arts and the like.

Up ahead loomed tall bots that could have been mistaken for mechas. (Y/n) heard that these were used in the entrance exam. With how averagely they moved and how stupidly clunky they were, she was sure this wouldn't be a problem. Or better yet, allow that Todoroki kid to deal with them as she tailed behind.

As if on cue, a flash of red and white hair caught (Y/n)'s eye. She slowed her pace. Todoroki threw out an arm, barrages of ice forming from thin air and freezing the bots solid. Tremors ran through the ground as the bots struggled to break free. Now was the time to move, a perfect opening to tail Todoroki and slip past him.

"HERE COME THE OBSTACLES!" came Present Mic's voice. "AND SO SUDDENLY TOO! THE FIRST BARRIER WILL BE A ROBO INFERNO!" 

If anyone else found the name stupid, (Y/n) wouldn't know. Maybe she just wasn't funny.

At the sight of the frozen bots, a few students slowed their pace and let out whoops of relief. "It's frozen! Follow them, we can get through!"

"Don't." Todoroki's voice was sharp as his ice. "I froze them precariously, so they'll come crashing down."

That was no match for (Y/n)'s speed. She sprinted after Todoroki, a mere hair's away from his back until they had successfully cleared the obstacle. As soon as they were in the clear, the bots crashed into each other and collapsed, kicking up clouds of dirt and dust. 

"OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT?! 1-A's TODOROKI HAS FORGED AHEAD WHILE BLOCKING THE WAY IN ONE FELL SWOOP. THAT KID'S HAAAARSH! TOO BAD HE HASN'T NOTICED HIS CLASSMATE, CHISAKI, BEHIND HIM!"

Frustration pulled at Todoroki's face as (Y/n) sent him a mocking wave and sped past him. "Thanks for that." Ice shot behind her, threatening to freeze her in place. But she was much too fast, much too agile for something so basic and slow. It was a losing battle for Todoroki unless he could sprint like a track star to the finish.

(Y/n) eyed the next obstacles and slowed her pace. Silly her, there was no point staying in first place if it meant being the first to deal with the next obstacles. Todoroki wasted no time in passing her, sending a brief side-eye as if to tell her to stay where she was. (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

"OH?! WHAT IS THIS? CHISAKI HAS FALLEN BEHIND! HAS SHE RAN OUT OF STEAM ALREADY?!"

The comment made (Y/n) snort to herself. She followed the ice trail Todoroki left behind, only to pause at the ravine stretching wide as a river. The rope was pulled taunt enough so it didn't sway precariously in the wind. Instead, it bounced with a single touch, but not enough to throw anyone over the side.

This was going to be easy. The moment (Y/n)'s feet touched the rope, instinct kicked in and she moved on autopilot, sprinting across the line and over the platforms until she was on the other side. She had to give it to Uzui, he was a good teacher to learn from.

Groans and shouts of protest echoed from the other side, causing a small smile of sympathy to rise to (Y/n)'s lips.

"Really?!"

"How the fuck am I supposed to cross that?!"

Ah, those poor children. However will they cross?

"Bro, I'm gonna die, you go first."

"Move, you're too slow!"

A sweet scent like burnt caramel hit (Y/n)'s nose and she rolled to her left. Sparks and flames burst past her side, where a familiar red-eyed bully glared her down. "Don't be so goddamn cocky!" he growled. "I'll tear you to shreds!" If that was supposed to be a threat, (Y/n) wasn't very amused. She watched in bewilderment from the ground as Bakugou blasted down the lane, straight for Todoroki.

(Y/n) pushed off the ground, swift as a whistling arrow, quicker than the wind. She wouldn't let Bakugou best her, especially not like that.

"WILL CHISAKI SURPASS BAKUGOU WHO'S NOW IN THE LEAD?! TODOROKI DOESN'T LOOK SO HAPPY, BETTER WATCH OUT! REJOICE MEDIA, THE DRAMA HAS BEGUNNNN!"

It wasn't that (Y/n) held a grudge against Bakugou for all the times he called her names that made her insides itch and her skin crawl painfully. It wasn't that his scowl frustrated her because he thought he looked oh-so scary. No, no. It was only that no other competition mattered besides beating the kid who liked to be a bully.

Why? Well, it was the job of a Hashira to show her juniors their place before they were in over their heads. It so happened (Y/n) was up for that challenge.

The next obstacle were landmines. (Y/n) slipped past the lumps in the ground, where those buried weapons awaited their victims. Bakugou was up ahead, right besides Todoroki who looked ready to bite his head off. If they kept at it, (Y/n) could easily go by unnoticed. She was only a hair's length away, a single step towards--

BOOM!

Everyone heard it before they saw it--a girlish scream and and the clanking of metal. Above in the sky like a bird flew Midoriya on a sheet of metal. His fuzzy hair blew like a tree in the wind, face glowing red as an apple. As he tumbled to the ground like an asteroid, Bakugou and Todoroki desperately threw hands to pass each other.

Now Midoriya was in the lead, hair singed and face smeared in dirt as he stumbled with a final sprint towards the finish line. There was something so incredible about the way his eyes reflected in the light. So full of hope, so full of innocence untouched by the worst of the world.

(Y/n) passed Bakugou and Todoroki in a blur. She stopped only at the finish line, dusting off a little dirt on her face as she squinted in the daylight. "Midoriya," she called. "Good job. That was very creative." And there was a warmth in her icy eyes as her lips pulled into the tiniest of smiles.

It was such a rare sight, such a treasure that Midoriya had to halt himself from wheezing and sputtering on air. He could barely breathe anyway, yet the sight managed to take whatever oxygen was left in his lungs away. "T-thanks...you too...Chisaki-san."

(Y/n) waved him off. "If you use 'san', I'll sound old. We're classmates, Chisaki is fine." The light in Midoriya's eyes seemed to grow. He smiled--still heaving--and said, "Right!"

The rest of the students were beginning to catch up, which meant Todoroki and Bakugou were on their way. The sound of explosions and breaking ice was all anyone needed to hear as the two crossed the finish line. Bakugou wasted no time to stagger towards (Y/n), back hunched like some rabid animal as he heaved. Sweat dripped down his neck, glistening against the sun.

"Beat you." There was a mocking shine in (Y/n)'s eyes. "You and Todoroki must have had the time of your lives, huh?" There was something new in the way Bakugou stared at her, something deep and pained in his chest that shown in his red, red eyes. "You weren't even trying," he spat.

(Y/n) shook her head. "I didn't need to." That was the wrong thing to say because Bakugou looked like he wanted to shove her face into the dirt until her teeth shattered. He huffed like some angry dog and turned away, fists clenched at his sides. "Dammit. I'll kill you...!"

The sound of his seething made (Y/n)'s head begin to hurt. She watched him march away, brows knitting. Bakugou deserved to be humbled, yet somehow, it made her gut knot into itself.

"Congrats on those who made it to the next round, the cavalry battle!" Midnight cried. She grabbed a microphone and waltzed up the steps of a stage, bidding everyone a warm welcome. She gestured to a leader board, then began explaining the next round: a cavalry battle. "Oh, and before we begin," a devious grin rose to her lips, "to the boy who placed first, congratulations on ten million points!"

Thank gods (Y/n) didn't place first. If she had actually tried any harder, she would be in quite the predicament. Maybe there was some good from not always striving for the best.

A couple volunteers began passing out white bandanas with numbers printed on them. (Y/n) took it and put it around her forehead. There was nothing particularly impossible about the cavalry battle. It was simple, groups of four grab the headbands of the opposing teams.

Oh, right, teams. (Y/n) didn't know what to do about that because...well...how many friends did she have? In order to form a group, there needed to be a total of four people, and out of the few people she knew, it wasn't enough to make a group.

Kirishima and Ashido were both social people. They knew a majority, if not everyone, in the class, and were friends with practically everyone. Then there was Bakugou. Although he was brash, he still somehow had friends, and from the looks of it, he was doing just fine like everyone else in Class 1-A.

Haha. Then there was (Y/n). She eyed the crowds with a frown, swallowing. Already, Bakugou was surrounded by people who wanted him on his team. He was strong with a flashy Quirk, they said. He was going to make a good teammate, they said.

What about (Y/n)? Sure, she worked mostly alone and had trouble talking to people every so often, but that didn't mean she couldn't cooperate. She pursed her lips together, biting the inside of her cheek. Ah, it was because she had a scary face, huh? Yeah, that would make sense. No one wanted to talk to her because they were afraid.

"Chisaki!" She turned and blanched at the sight of Mineta clinging to her heels. What did this disgusting kid want with her? Why couldn't someone else talk to her instead? She shook her leg. "Get off me."

"I want a girl to join my team!" Tears streamed down his face, threatening to seep into (Y/n)'s socks. "Please, please, you're super strong! Come on! Everyone else is too scared to ask you, but I'm desperate!"

(Y/n) shoved him off with little regard to where he flew. He might've skyrocketed, he might've flown into a classmate, she didn't really care. "If you want me on your team, have some decency!"

Mineta's eyes sparkled. "So you'll join?!"

"No."

A firm hand planted itself on (Y/n)'s shoulder and she stiffened, eyes wide in bewilderment. Then the familiar presence of Kirishima hit her senses and she relaxed, sending him a dubious look. "I thought you already had a team." He shook his head, grinning wide. "Not yet. Wanna join? You're fast and strong, and if you want, we can throw Bakugou!"

Kirishima then made his way around to another group of people, leaving (Y/n) to her thoughts. It was as if he were expecting her to say yes, which wasn't wrong since there was no one else around to ask (besides Mineta).

"Let's team up!"

Wait, Bakugou?

"What da'ya say, wanna be our rider? I'm the only one who can withstand the recoil of your explosions. We'll be a horse that can't crumple! And we'll get those points, right? Midoriya's ten million!"

Bakugou's gaze suddenly met (Y/n)'s. She stared at him for a good half minute before it clicked. Her face contorted into an icy scowl and she reeled back. "Wait, I have to team up with you?" Bakugou matched her expression with an equally disgusted look. "Don't act like you're better than me! Like hell I want you on my team!"

Kirishima waved his arms around. He wasn't usually the voice of reason, but he did have a decent head on his shoulders. "Guys, guys! Everyone's almost done teaming up, if we don't have a group, we're not gonna make it to the next round! I already asked Sero to be the last person, if you guys can get along for forty minutes, I think we can win this thing."

The word 'win' stole Bakugou's attention. He folded his arms across his chest begrudgingly, as if it were the only thing keeping him from shouting about how much he hated being around (Y/n). She sighed to herself, shaking her head. It looked like she had no choice. "Fine."

"ALL RIGHT!" exclaimed Midnight. "HAVE YOU ALL FORMED YOUR TEAMS?!"

This was now a battle of patience. It was a good thing (Y/n) knew patience.

"LET'S DO IT!! THE COUNTDOWN TO START THIS VICIOUS CLASH BEGINS!!"

(Y/n) held out her hands and motioned for everyone to get into position. Kirishima gave her a high five and moved her to the left. "No (Y/n), you're in front. I know it means you have to be careful of Bakugou's Quirk, but it makes the most sense since you're the fastest one." She stared at him, brows knit in confusion as he and Sero took hold of her hands. "Wait, what?"

Bakugou roughly placed a hand on her shoulder and climbed on. "I thought you were in the front, Kirishima!"

He shook his head. "Whoops, I changed my mind."

"STARTTTT!"

Groups began scrambling through the field, trampling each other in desperate search of grabbing a headband. In the middle of the fray was Midoriya, who frantically dodged a hand towards his face. As soon as (Y/n) broke into a light jog, a blond haired boy steered his group straight towards her.

"What the hell?" Bakugou said. "Chisaki, move your ass over there!" She didn't need to be told what to do. Her grip tightened around her classmates hands and she led them past Mineta's group (damn those sticky purple balls) and into a clearing. She rolled her eyes to herself, shaking her head. "Next time, ask nicely."

"Why don't you shut the fuck up, goody two shoes?"

"Shut up." (Y/n)'s voice was merciless. "If I drop you, we all lose."

Bakugou grunted.

Up ahead stood Midoriya's group. They were busy with Kaminari's group, but with the extra distraction, it wouldn't be hard to wait and snatch a headband before anyone noticed. (Y/n) sped up, dragging along Kirishima and Sero.

"Holy shit, you're fast, Chisaki!" exclaimed Kirishima. "That's manly!"

Sero sounded like a dehydrated man in the desert. "I don't know if I can keep up though!"

The momentum cut the group through the air. (Y/n) held fast to Bakugou's feet, eyeing her target. "We're gonna throw you!"

Bakugou growled. "I was gonna jump anyway! Don't steal my ideas!" And jump he did, zooming straight on target. Midoriya's mind moved faster than his body. He was quick to notice and shouted for Tokoyami. A wing of darkness appeared from behind, blocking Bakugou's hands as shouted his head off. Sero threw out his tape, adhering it to Bakugou and reeling him back.

"Nice catch!" said Kirishima.

If Midoriya had his guard up, there wasn't a shot any of them could get his headband yet. They had to wait until later, when he was tired and distracted. "New plan." (Y/n) steered her team away from the danger of two other groups, then sharply turned to the left. There was a 1-B group staring her down, the same from the start of this round. They kept coming closer, much too close for comfort.

Then a hand shot out and (Y/n)'s eyes widened. "Bakugou!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" Yet he sharply looked to his right anyway, where the hand had come from. "Oi, what the fuck!" (Y/n) looked up just in time to see the stray 1-B group sprint away with a headband. The rider, a blond boy, smiled mockingly, waving a lazy hand as if to say, "that was too easy".

"What the fuck?!" Bakugou cried. "Give it back before I kill you ass wipe!" The boy who stole the headband sighed loudly. He went on some monologue about how this was another preliminary round, but that was the least of anyone's problems when her group was slowly being herded into a corner.

"They're surrounding us?!" Kirishima exclaimed.

(Y/n)'s gaze narrowed. This would be their deciding factor if they didn't act quick. None of them had stolen a single headband in the last ten minutes. Instead, they were stolen from by that 1-B kid, who had played the long game since the timer began.

"Bakugou," (Y/n)'s grip tightened on his feet again. "Can you get back the points we lost?"

He was seething above her, back hunched and eyes reduced to angry slits. "Can I? Like hell it's a "can". Move your ass, Chisaki! Right now, I'm gonna fucking...!"

Kirishima swallowed hard. "Calm down, man! We gotta do this right."

Sero nodded vigorously. "Yeah, we can't lose!"

A large BOOM! hit (Y/n)'s ears. She tried to move out of the way before the explosion hit her face, but she was rooted to the ground, hands tied behind her back with her teammates. She couldn't move, and even if she could, it would put Bakugou in jeopardy. He would fall, and that would be game over.

"He has your Quirk?!" Sero exclaimed.

A laugh escaped the boy's lips and he threw out his arms dramatically. "Haha! Wow, amazing!" Explosions blinded (Y/n)'s vision, filling her lungs with smoke. She couldn't see past it even as she squinted, blinking rapidly as her eyes watered.

Sero shut his eyes tight as another explosion crackled through the air. "Is he copy-pasting from you?!"

"This really is a nice Quirk!" the boy exclaimed. There was another round of explosions, too bright to see through. (Y/n) shut her eyes, coughing on the overwhelming smell sweet like caramel. When she opened them, the blond boy had his arm up and it was now hardened skin, barely scratched by the force of Bakugou's fist.

"But my Quirk is far greater," the boy boasted.

Kirishima's jaw dropped. "Huh?! My Quirk too?! They're taking everything from me!" It went quiet as (Y/n) stared at the blond kid sharply. "He has a copy Quirk." The boy smiled and it was mean to look at. "Correct! Well, even an idiot would have guessed that right away."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and pulled her teammates to the right just as a blob of goo sloshed into the dirt. It began to dry, hardening like a rock. She gave Bakugou's ankles (and everyone's hands) a shake. "Get ready."

"Don't tell me what to fucking do!"

The blond kid's smirk grew. He was enjoying this too much. "Oh, please. Don't get so mad, Bakugou, was it? You were the one who fanned the flames to begin with. What was it you said at the commencement? That awfully embarrassing line," he laughed, "oh well, no worries. Have a nice rest!"

Bakugou growled. "I'll be number one. Not just any place, I'll be number one, by annihilating everyone!"

(Y/n) wasted no time in following after the 1-B group. "Bakugou, you're up." They all launched him into the air. He flew towards that kid, where an invisible wall appeared out of the blue, blocking Bakugou's reach. It then began to crumble, and at the last second, he snagged two headbands. (Y/n) dragged the team forward and Sero shot a line of tape, pulling Bakugou back.

"AND WITH THOSE TWO HEADBANDS, TEAM BAKUGOU HAS SHOT BACK TO THIRD PLACE!! EVEN IN THIS FINAL STRETCH, THE SCOREBOARD'S LIVELY AS EVER! AH, TO BE YOUNG AGAIN!"

Bakugou slammed his fists against (Y/n)'s shoulders. "What the fuck, third place?" His throat was beginning to get scratchy with how much he yelled. It reminded (Y/n) of someone she once knew, someone who was just as brash and just as frustratingly angry as him. "It's not enough!"

Dark hair, pointed eyes like almonds. "You want to win?" Genya's face appeared in (Y/n)'s mind and she felt a tingle in her fingertips. "Then go after them, loudmouth!" She breathed, filling in her lungs with the air that smelled like dirt and grass. It circulated through her body with strength, maybe a little too much, because the instant she shoved everyone's hands up, the sky wasn't the limit.

"AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! CHISAKI'S QUICK TO THINK ON HER FEET, SPARING NOT EVEN A SECOND TO LOSE!"

Bakugou became a bird, soaring through the sky on the wind. A grin adorned his face and he laughed manically, fingers curling around the last two headbands on that blond kid's neck. 

"NO MERCY FROM BAKUGOU KATSUKI! IF YOU'RE GONNA DO SOMETHING, DO IT! HE CALLS HIMSELF A PERFECTIONIST FOR A REASON, FOLKS!"

Sero frantically reeled Bakugou in, heaving out a hard breath in exasperation. "You were supposed to tell us when you were gonna do that!" (Y/n) sheepishly sent them all apologetic looks. "Oh, right."

Kirishima carefully balanced Bakugou on his hands. "On the bright side, we got all those points!" Bakugou clutched them tight in his palms, swaying this way and that. "Now, where the fuck are Deku and Todoroki?!"

(Y/n) had already begun steering the group in the right direction. She didn't have to keep an eye on them to know where the action was.

"TIME IS RUNNING OUT!"

"We're not gonna make it," (Y/n) said. "They're too far away and they keep moving." Bakugou growled, violently planting his ashen hands on her shoulders. "Run faster, fuck face!"

"THREE!"

"If I run faster, you'll fall and we'll lose!" (Y/n) retorted with a scowl. There were too many of them piled together, what made him think they could go any faster? "And stop calling me names!"

"TWO!"

"Hurry up!" Bakugou shouted in her ears.

"ONE!"

(Y/n) came to a stop, watching with disinterest as Bakugou hopped off and leaned over his knees with a frustrated scream. The scoreboard rearranged itself while Midnight read off each placement, revealing the top teams that would progress to the next round.

"IN FIRST PLACE, TEAM TODOROKI! IN SECOND, TEAM BAKUGOU!"

"That isn't too bad," (Y/n) remarked to herself. If anything, she had expected third since they were dilly-dallying a little too much for her liking.

Sero wiped his brow with a huff, hands on his knees. "You run...so fast..."

Kirishima heaved as if he were about to pass out, cheeks red. "Y-yeah...I could barely...keep up..."

Off to the side, Bakugou continued to scream. (Y/n) almost felt bad, if not for the fact that he looked like a little kid throwing a tantrum in the local mall. The next teams listed were Shinsou's in third, and Midoriya (who began to bawl like there was no tomorrow) in fourth. (Y/n) placed a hand to her forehead and wiped off a bit of sweat. She was far from tired, but the heat beating down from above was getting to her. She wasn't used to moving so much in the daytime.

Midnight announced an hour lunch break before the next event. At the mention of it, (Y/n)'s stomach began to grumble. She turned to the others, bowing her head lightly. "Thank you, I almost didn't have a team if not for you all."

Sero was still huffing and settled for throwing a thumbs up. Kirishima rubbed at his neck with a laugh, seemingly grateful as well. There was a sparkle in his eyes, one that seemed to shine with the sun. It was a youthful glow, and it made the sky a bit brighter. "We're friends Chisaki. As if I wasn't gonna ask you! Thank you too. I wasn't sure you and Bakugou were gonna cooperate at all. You were cool out there, y'know? That was a lot of fun!"

A warmth grew in (Y/n)'s chest, one that was almost scary. In the sunlight against her skin so warm and welcoming, where thousands of people gathered for something so trivial that held little to no meaning to the world, a small joy filled her system. A small thing that felt better than victory. "Thanks, Kirishima." Her expression softened. "I had fun."

A gnarly growl broke the beautiful moment. Bakugou stalked forward, grinding his teeth together as (Y/n) began walking away. "I'm going to get lunch," her gaze caught Bakugou's and he didn't break it, "I'll see you all later." As she turned on her heel, she felt it piercing into her back. It was far from evil, but the amount of anger in a single stare was seriously a bit concerning.

And for a moment, (Y/n) thought she saw a boy with white hair and an angry scar in the stands. He stared at her from afar with his arms crossed, long lashes fluttering ever so gently against his cheeks. Their gazes locked for a split second, then the crowds unfurled and he was swept away, a mere mirage of the past.

(Y/n) shook her head. It was just her imagination.

Modern Era Secrets!
-Bakugou thinks (Y/n) is an idiot because she's oblivious and doesn't really pay attention to what's said around her
-Bakugou and (Y/n) actually fight a lot more than author writes about
-Kirishima really does consider (Y/n) his best friend, even though they haven't had many deep conversations. He just really likes her ("The vibes are good around her," he once said)
-Sero thought he was gonna throw up after the cavalry battle from running. He thinks (Y/n)'s a monster with how fast and strong she is
-Yoriichi and Hawks had a conversation not too long ago, they believe something big is coming
-(Y/n) is embarrassed that she told Hawks, "Watch me!", because now she doesn't really feel like putting much effort into the festival (it's too easy for her!)

Taisho Era Secrets!
-Sanemi and (Y/n) ended up meeting every so often by chance, and even though Sanemi was cold and rude, Kyojurou could tell he had a soft spot for his tsuguko
-Kyojurou found it very endearing. It made him smile, especially when (Y/n) made fun of Shinazugawa ("This udon tastes like feet, how does that guy sell it?" And then (Y/n) would say, "I didn't know you like feet, aren't you strange...")

Chapter Text

Kai felt sick--which, in itself, was a contradiction. He existed to cure the sick. The bleach white of his gloves, the plague mask donned as a symbol, a statement of his very existence, were not just a part of his daily wear,  he a symbol of his convictions.

The screen glowed bright in the too bright room where the walls were cold cement and the floor a dull grey. Kai twirled a pen between his fingers, an old trick Oyaji once showed him as a child. "She never looks any happier." The words had slipped past his lips as he leaned back in his chair, hands folding stiffly. "It's not surprising."

Hari frowned, the glass of his mask reflecting images from the screen. "She's grown, and it looks like she made some friends."

On the field, there (Y/n) stood, rolling her eyes as a classmate spoke to her. Another grinned, then placed a hand to her shoulder.

Kai's lips pressed into a thin line. The odd sight made his skin crawl and his insides itch with a familiar wave of nausea. Sick. It was a word he was all too familiar with. One that made his stomach lurch into knots. (Y/n) didn't look happy or at peace. Instead, her expression was blank, dead-looking as she flitted across the field. That smile on her lips was fake and it was painful when it was only a reflection, a stark reminder of what he had done to her--his dear sister.

What good had pushing (Y/n) away done besides protect Project Zero? The blasted thing that would (supposedly) change the world?

But was it really Kai's fault or was it Eri's for existing? It had to be the latter, there was no other possible option.

Blood stained Kai's white gloves, dyed them in an invisible red because he made a mistake. It seeped into his bones as the fire from that night had, burning holes into his sleeves as he ran and ran and ran. That was the last he had allowed (Y/n) to wander too far from his view, the last time he had trusted to leave her to her own devices.

In the end, Kai was right. Always right. He wasn't sick with nausea, only the regret of not showing (Y/n) more of his horizons. If she understood, if she saw it from his point of view, then maybe things wouldn't have ended so sourly. Maybe she wouldn't have gotten hurt and maybe her smile would have actually turned true.

The crawling across his skin faded. Kai unfolded his hands and laid them on the cold, cold desk. There was nothing to fear, not when everything was falling right into place just as he expected. The pieces were selected with great care, each movement two steps ahead (always two steps ahead).

(Y/n) would be happy. Perhaps not now, or in the next year, but soon. Kai had a plan for her just as he had a plan for everything. All he had to do was keep her out of his way and safe from harm. When Project Zero was finally complete, he'd find a way to target the monster that shattered her life and kill him for good.

Kai released a short sigh.

All's well that ends well. There was nothing to worry about.

---------

The stands were slowly beginning to empty for lunch. (Y/n) had already begun to follow the signs to avoid being swept away with the spectators, only to find herself lost. Again. Where was the food? (Y/n) turned left, right, then left again. The signs said go straight, but if she went straight, she'd end up back where she started.

Okay, if it wasn't the next left, then it had to be right. But if it wasn't right, then...

A pair of voices made (Y/n)'s ears perk up. People! They had to know where food was, right? She followed the sound, hoping to follow these people to the cafeteria.

"Are you All Might's secret love child?"

Oh, that wasn't what (Y/n) had in mind. She crept forward and paused as her gaze landed on Bakugou. He stood with his back to the wall, intently listening to the conversation around the corner until he looked up, brows knitting. His voice was just above a whisper, "What the hell are you doing here?"

(Y/n) sent him a strange look. "What are you doing here?" She turned to step past him, but he snatched her wrist and pulled her towards the wall. "Shut up."

"Why don't you shut up?"

"Shh!" He aggressively slapped a hand over (Y/n)'s mouth and gestured to the corridor on their left. She glared at him, reluctantly following his gaze around the corner, where Midoriya and Todoroki stood.

"Y-you've got it all wrong!" cried Midoriya. "Well, of course that's exactly what a secret son would say, so I get if you don't believe me, but that's not it!" He was red in the face, waving his arms around frantically. "I...was actually gonna ask you something. Why are you...I mean, why me...when like..."

(Y/n)'s brow furrowed as she pried Bakugou's hands off her face. She recalled Ashido telling her about the "declaration of war" Todoroki bestowed upon Midoriya, after she had come back from the bathroom. It didn't seem so important at the time, just petty. But now, maybe not so much.

"The way you said it, 'that's not it'." Todoroki's calm voice was like a knife. "In other words, you have some other connection to All Might that you don't want to talk about. Whatever that may be.... You must know my father Endeavor. He's currently number two, so if you're connected to the number one, that means I need to win."

(Y/n)'s gaze briefly rose to Bakugou's. He stared at the ground, hands dug into his pockets. And as Todoroki continued on about his past, her gaze never left the side of his face.

"In my memories, my mother is always crying," Todoroki said. "She told me that my left side is ugly, and then she poured boiling water over me. The reason I'm going to beat you is for personal triumph, I won't use my shitty old man's Quirk and I'll become number one without needing to. That I swear."

And suddenly, (Y/n) felt like she shouldn't be here. This conversation was too private and it was intruding on privacy. Yet her feet were rooted in place, stuck to the cold, smooth concrete that seemed to sink into her shoes. Her hands held a power she wasn't ready to use, one that could easily kill rather than create. It was a cursed power, one that could be the same as a demon's.

And long before, that was what she was told.

A faint memory clouded (Y/n)'s mind, where wisteria bloomed and its scent filled her nose. She had opened her eyes slowly that day, blinking at the sight of the man with a smile that made the world slow and the air easier to breathe. He knew things she did not, yet possessed little knowledge of her being. Instead of demanding answers or speaking to her crudely, he led her forward with that fatherly voice smooth as water, lighter than a feather.

"You will do great things, (Y/n). You are a wonderful child."

The concrete kept sinking into her shoes.

Midoriya rebounded with memories of those who helped him in the past, reflecting on how he had always been saved. He looked Todoroki in the eyes head-on, stating how he wasn't planning on losing either. The two then parted ways down the hall, leaving only faint, hollow footsteps.

(Y/n) rubbed her knuckles, stomach churning into knots. She hated this feeling that she wasn't supposed to feel.

"What's with that disgusting look on your face?"

Bakugou's scratchy voice made (Y/n) meet his eyes. His expression was haughty, as if he were preparing to yell. Instead of answering, she shook her head and began down the hall. "Can we just get lunch now? I'm starving."

There was an awkward silence as the two made their way down the hall, side by side. Bakugou grumbled to himself about how he was just about to get lunch too (not because she mentioned it), but (Y/n) ignored him with a roll of her eyes. By the time the two managed to find the cafeteria, every table was squashed with students, leaving little room to squeeze by. The line extended nearly a kilometer, and if not for Lunch Rush, would have remained at a stand still.

The air was thick as the two stood there, shoulder to shoulder in the line.

Bakugou seemed to stuff his hands deeper into his pockets. He didn't like being this close to anyone, much less his self-proclaimed rival. And neither did (Y/n), who would rather be this close to Akaza than anyone else.

The line moved a couple centimeters. Bakugou pressed his lips together, "You don't use your Quirk much." His forever grimace seemed to deepen. "Or more like you don't really know how to use it."

The menu was suddenly very interesting to read. Bento combos at a very affordable price, some gyudon, katsudon--

"The only time you actually used your Quirk was during U.S.J." Bakugou paused to recall. "But you didn't rely on it."

(Y/n) kept her gaze on the menu. "You were paying attention to me?"

Bakugou huffed, scoffing as if that were ridiculous. "You arrogant ass wipe, what else was I watching, the roof?"

"You mean ceiling?"

"Smartass. Do you have two Quirks?"

(Y/n) squinted at the menu. "If you made it this far Bakugou, I'm sure you can figure out the rest on your own."

"Hah?!" he shouted in her ear. "You're not special just because you think you're all that. Just tell me, it's not like it's a big deal. Who cares if you have two Quirks? It's not like you're hiding something."

(Y/n)'s insides itched. "What are you eating for lunch?"

Bakugou looked at her strangely. "The hell are you ignoring me for? Two-faced bitch."

"Loudmouth."

"You trash talk worse than a first grader." Bakugou said, scoffing to himself. "You and Tsugikuni Sensei are close, how do you know each other?"

"He's just a relative."

"Bullshit. You don't even look alike."

Which wasn't wrong, but wasn't right either. He was her great great great great great great great great great great grandfather from hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years ago. It was a wonder how his blood hadn't thinned out enough for them not to be related.

(Y/n) clicked her tongue. "You don't have to look alike to be related. Recessive genes can make you look different."

The smart comments were really getting under Bakugou's skin. They weren't exactly close, but a part of him hoped he could at least string something out of her annoyingly tight cage. He needed to satiate his curiosity. "Whatever. Recessive genes or distant relative, I don't care. I heard the Nomu was supposed to be as strong as All Might, what made you able to keep up with it? Todoroki was also recommended but he didn't even make a scratch."

Ah. That was a very good point. Even the most seasoned of pros wouldn't have gone toe-to-toe with that mighty beast. But (Y/n)? She wasn't normal. It wasn't too prominent, but a part of her felt the power of Kibutsuji surging through her veins. His other worldly prowess made her faster than she was before, the same as a demon who couldn't perish to anything but the sun.

"So you do have two Quirks," Bakugou concluded, brows raising. "There's no other explanation that makes sense. That's not fucking normal." His gaze bore into the side of (Y/n)'s face and she kept her eyes to the menu as if deep in thought. She shrugged, nodding. "You knowing that much doesn't change anything. It's useless information."

"Stop lying to my fucking face." His gaze burned like the fire from his explosions. "It obviously means something to you, whatever the hell that is. I'm not stupid."

Well, he got her there. (Y/n) wasn't exactly an A+ liar. She rarely had to lie to get what she wanted since she just grabbed it with her own two hands anyway.

A sigh escaped her lips and she scanned the menu for the eleventh time in the past ten minutes. "I technically have two Quirks," she confirmed. "Or rather...abilities to be more accurate. My family was related to descendants of Samurai who were taught various techniques for battle. What you saw was part of it."

Bakugou's brows knit together tightly. He strained his ears to listen better to her hushed voice.

"We use breathing techniques to become physically and mentally stronger. If not for my training, I would have died." Her eyes were old and worn, as if she had lived a hundred years over. "Only those who endure rigorous training are rewarded with that type of ability."

"So it's not a Quirk." Bakugou muttered. "But how the hell does it work?"

(Y/n) felt her eyes glaze over in thought. She pursed her lips together, a small, humorless smile tugging at the edge of her lips. "Do you believe in demons?

Bakugou stared, bewildered. "Are you fucking with me?"

(Y/n) shrugged, and stepped out of line. "No reason. I trust you won't tell everyone?"

"Where the hell are you going?"

(Y/n) slipped into the crowd. Then a hand grabbed her by the wrist, and she felt herself being pulled into the hallways. Whoever had taken her was faster than the wind, with white hair and baggy clothes. Together, they traveled down stairs, past warm up rooms, and finally, behind the stadium where the grass was green and the sky a clear baby blue.

The presence sharp like a mountain's breeze, cold as a summit, suddenly registered clear as day. White hair, angry scars, rough hands that could easily snap anyone in two. The two stopped in the middle of an empty hall, where sunlight poured in through the archways.

"Sanemi." (Y/n) stared hard, eyeing the basic Uniqlo tee and baggy sweats combo. He looked like a normal young man, if not for the scars and hard eyes. And he was breathing and standing in front of her and he was here and she couldn't remember if he had died or not because the last time she saw him was when he was screaming and crying because Genya was dead and then he was carried away after falling unconscious from nearly dying and--

"You're also alive...?"

"At least look glad to see me," he said, flicking her forehead. "Dumbass. I didn't drag you all the way here for you to look at me like I'm a dead worm."

(Y/n)'s eyes burned and she choked before throwing her arms around him. The hug was warm and welcoming, two things she never thought would describe this rude, rude man. They stayed like that in the warm sunlight for a good few moments before Sanemi pulled away to get a good look at her teary face. And he smiled, placing a hand on her head. "Why're you crying stupid? I'm not dead."

"But I thought--"

Sanemi punched her upside the head. "I was asleep! That freak Tomioka and I were the only surviving Hashira, not including Uzui. You were also supposed to be one, if you hadn't disappeared." He leaned against the wall, where a gentle breeze fluttered through his hair.

(Y/n) studied the way each line seemed to make him age by ten years. "What's wrong?"

The breeze seemed to get cooler. "If Muzan is listening, tell him that I'll kill him if it's the last thing I do. I swear on it." He folded his arms, nails digging into his skin. "We've all been given a second chance. This time, we're not gonna screw it up. We all are working hard to figure out what to do with you since we aren't even sure how to kill Kibutsuji."

Sanemi placed a hand to (Y/n)'s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "I'm not gonna promise anything, but I'd rather not have to kill you." There was something different about him she couldn't place. Maybe it was the softness of his eyes, or the way he looked so vulnerable (as if about to break). "You're a good kid, (Y/n). So you better keep fighting that damned demon until your last breath. You got it?"

(Y/n) placed a hand over his and gave it a squeeze. "Yes, of course."

Then his expression hardened and he slapped her upside the head. (Y/n) yelped, glaring him down. "What was that for?!"

"For lying!" Sanemi shouted. "An affair with an upper moon demon? What the hell, (Y/n)? You could have been eaten alive! Not only that, as a Hashira, where's your shame? You should have committed seppuku! In fact, why don't you do that right now, huh?"

(Y/n) awkwardly stared at the wall, pressing her lips together as Sanemi grabbed at her face and yelled into her ear. She forgot about that. Completely. Ever since she arrived in the present, her lover being Upper Moon Three was an afterthought.

"I can't believe you. An affair. With a demon. What the hell made you think that was okay?" And as Sanemi grumbled to himself, he finally took a moment to breathe and size (Y/n) up from head to toe. From the bags under her eyes to the disheveled mess of her hair. Her gym clothes remained tidy and neat, at the very least. But that was saying a lot.

He sucked his teeth. "You're fucking annoying as hell. That's why you're always gonna be Rengoku's stupid ass tsuguko. Hashira or not." He flicked her forehead. "Go beat your opponent to a pulp. You better not lose to those weak high schoolers."

(Y/n)'s expression softened, "Well since you're here, I know for sure I can't lose. You'd beat me up if I did."

Sanemi huffed, blowing at his bangs. "Only because you'd deserve it."

-----

Class 1-A wasn't hard to spot on the field with how loud they were. (Y/n) hadn't bothered to meet them downstairs and instead remained in the stands.

She leaned over the railing, suddenly pausing. "What...?" Maybe she missed the memo, maybe her eyes were going bad and she would have to Overhaul herself, or maybe....

"Chisaki!" cried Ashido from the ground. She and the other girls were dolled up in cheerleader outfits. "Can you believe Mineta and Kaminari lied to us?!" Embarrassment passed through the girls as they awkwardly stood on the grass, digging their feet into the ground with their pom poms. (Y/n) could only stare harder, blinking confusedly at the sight.

"I'm so sorry!" Yaoyorozu exclaimed (she looked so much like her father it was uncanny). "I thought they were being serious when they said Aizawa Sensei said to do it!"

A group of actual cheerleaders were at the other side of the field. They looked foreign, maybe from America, (Y/n) couldn't tell. Then her gaze landed on Kaminari and Mineta, who were both red in the face from excitement. She hopped over the side of the railing and landed in the grass without a sound. Her fingers curled into fists, gaze ice cold.

Before anyone could so much as blink, (Y/n) had pummeled both boys straight into ground. Dirt and chunks of grass flew into the air as she smashed both the boys' faces like crackers. It wasn't enough to break anything, but it was enough to give them both bloody noses. Present Mic shouted something and Aizawa wow'ed in the background, but it all fell upon deaf ears. (Y/n) wanted the two idiots to remember the pain of her fists. "Show some respect for your classmates," --her voice was enough to make the air turn ice cold-- "because next time, I won't show either of you mercy."

She stood, helping them both to their feet and giving them a glare. The two remained still, dazed as they held their faces.

"We're sorry..."

"Please don't kill us..."

A cry of triumph escaped Ashido's throat and she clung onto (Y/n)'s side as if she were a god. "You really showed them, Chisaki!" Yaoyorozu gratefully bowed with a thank you as Jirou (the music girl, was it?) huffed out a long sigh in relief. Uraraka pressed her hands together, shouting out "that was so badass!" with tears in her eyes.

(Y/n) waved them all off. "It wasn't a big deal, they needed to be put in their place." Uraraka looked like she was going to choke on her own spit. "Wasn't a big deal?!" she wheezed. "Chisaki-san, you're so strong!"

"No, no. It was nothing, really."

"It's almost inhuman." Asui noted with a finger to her chin. "You're incredible." Hagakure, if she were visible, probably would have nodded, judging by the movements of her arms (?). "I wish I could do that. It was so cool!"

All the attention made heat threaten to crawl up (Y/n)'s neck. She held up a hand to wave to everyone goodbye and began walking back towards the stairs. "I'm glad I could help. If you need me to hit them, I can do it again, don't be afraid to ask."

"What an angel!"

"Yeah, a devil with the face of an angel..." muttered one of the boys wearily. "I don't want to cross her. That's scary."

Before (Y/n) could make her way back to the stands, Midnight waltzed onto the stage, with a box to draw lots for the next round. Two of the students withdrew, apparently due to them not remembering a single thing during the cavalry battle, and (Y/n) didn't like that thought. Whatever Quirk was used on them, she didn't want to encounter. Two others replaced those students, both of which were from class 1-B.

(Y/n) scanned the leaderboard. She was up against Aoyama, that weird French kid who she never spoke to once. He was almost invisible to her, another person who was more like a side character than anything. He never quite stuck out, never quite displayed any interesting characteristics besides being, well...weird.

But that was a thought for another day.

The recreation events weren't of any interest to (Y/n), so she made her way back into the hall to think to herself. It seemed the other competitors had the same thing in mind, where most sped past her to get to the break room with nervous looks on their faces.

The hour was quick to come to an end. (Y/n) kept her back to the wall, lips pursed into a frown. She replayed her last moment with Bakugou, where he had looked at her so strangely, brows knit together, eyes skeptical of her very existence. It was like he knew she didn't belong here, like he knew she were different (and she was).

(Y/n) didn't like the twisting in her gut. Her gaze lifted to the sound of footsteps, where Midoriya waddled down the hallways as if there were rocks in his pants. He looked about ready to throw up, face the same shade of his hair. "O-oh, Chisaki-san? S-sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you..."

(Y/n)'s brows knit. "You'll be okay, if that's what you worry about." Midoriya stiffened, rubbing his sweaty palms on his sweats. "T-thanks, Chisaki-san!"

She sensed the presence of All Might rounding around the corner. It wasn't odd to see him at the festival since he was a teacher, but Todoroki's words echoed in her head and she frowned in thought. "I'll leave you alone, I believe someone wants to wish you well." She sent Midoriya a wave. "Good luck."

"T-thanks!" he squeaked. "Y-you too Chisaki-san when your match comes, which isn't until later, but you get what I mean, right?" (Y/n) paused, blinking. Then a chuckle escaped her lips and she nodded. "Of course. I appreciate it, Midoriya."

Then she turned back towards the stands and to find an empty seat. The others had already gathered there, waiting with bated breath for the match to begin. The girls took note of (Y/n)'s presence and waved her over, friendly smiles on their faces. It was rather sweet of them, considering (Y/n) had yet to interact with most of them besides the quick exchange in the locker room every so often.

The setup of the field had changed. A large, flat arena made of concrete sat in the middle, where Midoriya and his opponent Shinsou (that annoying kid who declared war on the whole class) stood across from each other.

"Chisaki, you can sit next to me!" called Ashido, patting the spot next to her. (Y/n) complied, eyeing the new setup on the field. If she remembered correctly, this kid was from the general department, and also part of the team that didn't remember anything during the cavalry battle.

"FIRST FIGHT! HIS GRADES AREN'T BAD, BUT WHAT THE HELL IS THAT EXPRESSION? FROM CLASS 1-A, MIDORIYA IZUKU!"

It was possible Midoriya's opponent had some sort of control Quirk. Did it erase memories altogether or did it simply control people?

"AND...WE'RE SORRY BUT HE'S JUST A NORMAL STUDENT WITHOUT ANYTHING SPECIAL FROM THE GENERAL DEPARTMENT, SHINSOU HITOSHI!!"

That was harsh.

"THE RULES ARE SIMPLE, IF YOUR OPPONENT LEAVES THE RING, CAN'T MOVE ANYMORE, OR SAYS "I GIVE UP", THEN VICTORY IS YOURS! DON'T WORRY ABOUT OVERDOING IT, RECOVERY GIRL IS WAITING AT THE EDGE OF THE STADIUM! SO LEAVE YOUR MORALE TO THE SIDE AND GIVE IT YOUR ALL!"

(Y/n)'s lips pressed into a thin line. Yeah, she wasn't so sure about that one. Present Mic went on to explain the rules, such as how putting opponent's lives at risk was not permitted (duh) and would result in immediate disqualification. He added on that only villains were the exceptions, who should always be attacked without mercy and blah, blah, blah.

The two exchanged a brief conversation, and when Present Mic shouted START!, Midoriya shouted, "what did you say?!" at the top of his lungs. Suddenly, his body froze and he stood rooted to his spot.

The puzzle began to fit into place and (Y/n) nodded her head to herself. "He must want Midoriya to say give up so he can win. It's clear Shinsou isn't much of a fighter." Ashido leaned forward in her seat, eyes widening. "Huh? You figured it out just like that Chisaki?"

Uraraka leaned over to meet (Y/n)'s eye. "Wait, how did you do that?"

(Y/n)'s gaze flickered over to Ojiro, whose eyes never left the ring. "He said he didn't remember anything during the cavalry battle, yet Shinsou, who was part of the team, didn't forfeit. Midoriya said something and now he can't move, so the conditions must revolve around speaking."

The girls ooed in awe.

"EVEN THOUGH HE HASN'T MADE AN IMPRESSION UNTIL NOW, COULD HE REALLY BE THAT SCARY?!!"

"That's why I've been saying that entrance exam is illogical," chipped in Aizawa Sensei. (Y/n) nodded along, gaze wandering towards the battle as the chatter filtered in one ear and out the other. Shinsou was trying to provoke Midoriya, and by the looks of it, he was winning.

Then a familiar well of energy filled the air and clouds of dust rose with a snap!. It cleared, where the sight of broken fingers made (Y/n) hum to herself. Shocking himself with pain was a smart move, but if Shinsou were able to take control of him again, there were only so many bones he could break.

The two began to argue and Midoriya shoved Shinsou who retaliated with a punch. Blood splattered across his face, smearing on his freckled cheeks as Shinsou grabbed him by the collar. Punching, scratching, grabbing--it was a struggle, and it made (Y/n) snort. She ignored the nervous looks of her classmates, who were, more or less, not as amused as her.

Then Midoriya flipped Shinsou over his shoulder and Shinsou clamored to the ground, out cold.

"Shinsou's out!" announced Midnight. "Midoriya, you advance to round two!"

Next up was Sero and Todoroki. It was over before it had begun, but with an  excessive amount of ice on Todoroki's end. Poor Sero was covered in ice head to toe, where large icicles stretched over well past the top of the stadium. Todoroki apologised and melted him ("Sorry, I over did it. I was just a bit pissed.").

"Todoroki isn't someone I'd want to be up against," Ashido said with a heave. "Ooo, I'm already cold thinking about it."

"Me too," Yaoyorozu agreed. "His Quirk is really powerful."

Flames rose from Todoroki's left side. They curled against his arms, not the same way Kyojurou's eyes burned so brightly with pride ad dignity. It was sullen, a muted display where the light could die as fast as it had come, wither into nothing. They did not burn brightly and instead threatened to fizzle out.

The third match up ended just as fast, with Kaminari wearing himself out in the first couple minutes, and Shiozaki triumphing with her vines. (Y/n) had practically been blinded by all the flashing. She rubbed at her eyes, blinking away the lights that danced across her vision. "That was unfortunate."

Ashido snickered. "But it's just like Kaminari to go all out without a second though, huh?"

Next came Iida and Hastume.

"HE'S COMING ACROSS LIKE A CENTER FIELDER, IT'S IIDA TENYA! OF THE HEROICS DEPARTMENT! VERSUS, HATSUME MEI DECKED OUT IN GEAR, FROM THE SUPPORT DEPARTMENT!"

Iida looked extremely uncomfortable in the ring. He was decked out in support gear, all of which must have come from Hatsume since she was, well, from the support department herself. (Y/n) raised a brow, wondering what in the world the purpose of this battle could be if he was more like a business supporter for his opponent.

The teachers turned to themselves to converse. As a general rule, support items were most definitely not allowed, as it made the playing field unfair. The only one who apparently was allowed to have one was Aoyama, a special case.

"I apologise profusely, I thought it was allowed since Aoyama had a special belt!" cried Iida. "However! My heart was moved by that girl's superb sportsmanship!" He continued on about how Hatsume lent him these items and told him they all were equals, so to equalise the fight, she gave him support items. "Thereby!" Iida was shouting to the heavens by now. "She showed me her grit! Her enthusiasm! I thought it would be small of me not to wield her works!"

(Y/n) glanced over at Ashido with a frown. "Isn't he being used by Hastume...? I doubt she would give him those support items only to even out the playing field..." Ashido's eyes suddenly widened. "Wait look, she has a microphone!"

The "battle" began.

"That acceleration is fantastic, isn't it Iida?!" Her voice boomed across the stadium, nearly matching the volume of Present Mic's. "I trust your legs feel lighter to lift than normal! Well, I'll tell you why!"

Ah, so it was an advertisement.

"It's because those are designed to follow the motion of your leg movement, and of course, maneuvering is ever so easy with this hydraulic attachment here!"

(Y/n) placed her chin in hand. It was a ridiculous display, but she couldn't not admit that it was funny. Iida sprinted around the ring, circled by Hatsume who continued showing off every feature of her inventions. The crowd ooo'ed and ahhh'ed like grandmas who watched early morning advertisements on jewelry (Oyaji used to do that sometimes).

The match ended with Iida winning on his knees. "You played me for a fool!"

Now, it was (Y/n)'s turn. Ashido sent her a thumbs-up. "You're gonna do great, Chisaki!" A small smile tugged on her lips. "Thanks, Ashido." As she made her way out of the stands, Bakugou's gaze caught her own. She sent him a look and he sent her a look. Then Kirishima stood and hollered at her. "Good luck, Chisaki! I'll be cheering for you!"

"Thanks." (Y/n) sent him a wave. "I'll make it quick."

(Y/n) made her way down the steps, taking her time. She didn't quite understand Aoyama's Quirk, but she was sure the battle could end quickly. Like the teachers said earlier, he had a support item, his belt. If she removed it or broke it, victory was hers. But she wasn't that mean. All she needed to do was knock him out in a single hit.

Ippon--one full point.

(Y/n) exited the hallway. The grass was soft against her shoes, and then she walked up the steps of the ring onto cold, hard concrete. Aoyama looked scared for his life. His face was deathly pale, and he blanched at the mere sight of (Y/n) before him.

"YOU'VE ALL SEEN HER ON THE NEWS, BUT I'LL INTRODUCE HER ANYWAY! WITH AN INTIMIDATING LOOK ON HER FACE WE HAVE THE ONE AND ONLY, CHISAKI (Y/N)! VERSUS! A BOY WHO SPARKLES LIKE GLITTER, AOYAMA YUGA!!"

(Y/n) bowed her head in respect. "I apologise if this goes by quickly. No hard feelings, I just want to get this match over with."

"START!!"

Before Aoyama could so much as breathe, (Y/n)'s fist had already connected with his jaw. There was a girlish scream, a thud, and silence.

The crowd shouted half-heartedly to Aoyama's cold body. "Don't mind! You did your best, kid!"

After another moment of silence, Midnight confirmed that (Y/n) was, in fact the winner. She herself looked shocked, maybe even a bit scared at the fact that she hadn't even seen (Y/n) move.

The next couple matches ended swiftly. (Y/n) was too busy lingering in the hallway to watch. When she decided to go back to her seat, Bakugou stood in her path. "Get out of my way," he said with a grunt. (Y/n) sent him a dirty look. "You're in my way."

Bakugou threw out his hands to shove (Y/n), but she caught them, swinging him around so that he was now where she had stood moments ago. "Don't waste your strength, you're up against Uraraka, right?"

"So what?"

(Y/n) shrugged. "We'll have to see who fights who in the next couple rounds." A grin rose on Bakugou's lips. "What, you wanna fight me?"

"Only to punch your stupid face."

Bakugou huffed, that sharp grin rising. "Fine. But if I fight you, I'm gonna fucking win and rub it in your arrogant face!" (Y/n) waved him off, shooing him down the hall. "If you say so." Bakugou sent her one last growl before marching down the hall, hands dug into his pockets and back hunched.

The next match didn't go too well for Uraraka. Explosions blasted through the air, taking with it pieces of concrete and rubble that scratched against Uraraka's skin. She pushed forward, gripping at the ground to launch towards Bakugou. It was the worst pair-up imaginable. A support Quirk that wasn't meant to harm, against a Quirk that could blow anyone to bits.

"That's cruel." Yaoyorozu said. "Why does Bakugou keep going? And he calls himself a hero." (Y/n) hadn't taken her seat yet, instead electing to lean against the railing in the aisle. "It's not cruel. Everyone else is saying that the match should end, but in doing so, wouldn't that be a disservice to Uraraka?" She pointed towards the girl. "Bakugou's respecting that by not letting up. Besides, if he did, he would lose. I'm sure he knows that."

Although, even (Y/n) had to admit his tactics were rather brutal. Perhaps, not as brutal as her fellow Hashira (or Akaza), but still most definitely brutal.

Suddenly, Aizawa's voice filtered through the loud speakers. He had the same thought as (Y/n) and voiced it so the pros would stop complaining. With every hit, ever step forward, Uraraka took the debris and made it float. She kept to the ground, where Bakugou's eyes focused, all for her final move.

Chucks of rock came crashing down in an instant, but to Bakugou it was child's play. His Quirk was much more offensive. It had to be the worst match up, but because of that, the fight was all the more interesting.

In the end, Uraraka lost, but not without her dignity. (Y/n) had to say, with the odds stacked against the poor girl, she was proud.

(Y/n) decided to go for a quick walk to stewrch before the next match. When she came back, the seats had been scrambled. It seemed everyone had also moved around, meaning she had no idea where to sit.

"Two-faced bitch." Bakugou bared his teeth. "If you're gonna sit down just fucking sit down. Keep standing there and I'm gonna kill you!"

(Y/n) took to leaning on the railing in the front row. "Don't tell me what to do, Bakugou."

Off to the side Mineta giggled to himself with a hushed giggle, jabbing Kaminari in the side to get his attention. "Ooooo. The girls are fighting!"

Asui sent him a dead look. "It's not your business to listen in on other people's conversations."

(Y/n) gave the empty seat a long hard stare. Her feet shouldn't have hurt, but the mere thought of standing any longer made the blood in her body want to stop flowing. And if that happened, she was sure to pass out from locking her knees, which, she hadn't, but--

"God damn, sit down," Bakugou scowled.

(Y/n) sent him a look before sitting down. Why did he have to bully her so much? She never did anything to him. Was she an easy target or something? "I was fine standing."

"Then why the fuck did you sit down."

"You wouldn't stop bothering me." she stated, brows knitting. "What do you want?"

Bakugou huffed to himself like a child, arms curled in as he crossed them and put a foot on the railing. The sudden quiet made her sigh. The match was starting anyway, and a part of her was interested in its outcome after that not-so-secret-conversation with Midoroya and Todoroki.

(Y/n) turned to Bakugou. "Did you want me to sit here because of," she glanced at the two opponents in the ring, "you know...?" A strong gust of wind cut off her thoughts and she turned her attention to the ring (Bakugou ignored her anyway).

Thirty seconds hadn't even passed and Midoriya's finger was already broken. He had successfully shattered the ice that would have froze him in place. It went from one finger to two, three, and four. Blood splattered by his feet and Todoroki had barely begun warming up.

They began shouting at each other, muttering about their lives and fears, their goals, and wants. And eventually, Todoroki used his fire. All the ice began to steam, where flames burst into the air and licked at the rings surface. The teachers began to shout something, but it all fell upon deaf ears in an explosion of heat.

As it died down in clouds of smoke, the two were left barely conscious.

Bakugou huffed to himself, unimpressed with the outcome. It was expected, as Midoriya barely knew how to use his Quirk without breaking more than a couple bones.

Next up was (Y/n) VS Tokoyami.

The moment Present Mic gave the START!, (Y/n) moved faster than Tokoyami could blink and shoved him out of the ring at full force. The poor guy went flying while the audience watched with bated breath as he landed flat on the field.

"CHISAKI WINS!"

Too easy. (Y/n) wasted no time in leaving the ring. She went to check on Tokoyami, who still laid flat on the ground like a pancake.

"Are you alright?" She helped him up to his feet. "I didn't mean to push you so harshly."

Tokoyami only shook his head, hanging it low. "No, your skills are admirable. I hadn'f even seen you move. I guess that's to be expected of a recommended student. You were incredible and barely did a thing."

(Y/n) waved him off with a humble, 'Oh, no, no'. "You should get checked up before returning to the stands." She bid him goodbye and disappeared back up the steps and to her seat. Ashido was waiting for her, practically ready to burst in excitement.

"You were amazing!" she exclaimed. "That happened so fast, I barely had time to blink!" (Y/n) waved it off sheepishly. "Well, I didn't mean to use so much strength..."

"What do you mean you didn't mean to?" Uraraka interjected, eyes wide. "You're so strong!"

Yaoyorozu placed a hand to her chin, "You must have trained especially hard. You've been exceptional all day."

The kind comments only bounced off (Y/n)'s head. She could only deny politely before taking her seat and watching the next match: Bakugou VS Todoroki. This was going to be brutal, she could already feel it in her bones. Thr animosity rising in the air was heavy, the same as two predators fighting over a single prey.

There were lots of flashes, mounds of ice higher than the stadium, and shouting. (Y/n) was more entranced with the way Bakugou fought so aggressively. He was unpolished, brash, and although it reminded her of Sanemi, was not the same. Bakugou lacked control, experience, and the ability to make clear, concise decisions that weren't entirely based on his emotions.

And although Sanemi oftentimes got angry, he was more likely to be smart about it.

Todoroki suddenly paused. As Bakugou raced towards him it was as if he had accepted defeat.

Midoriya suddenly stood up. "TODOROKI! DON'T LOSE, GIVE IT YOUR ALL!"

That was enough to snap Todoroki into focus, but as Bakugou revealed his ultimate move, he faltered again with his flames. There was an explosion, a flash of colour, and then silence.

Bakugou won.

(Y/n) hurriedly made her way down the steps, all while Ashido and Kirishima cheered her on. She frowned to herself in thought, lingering in the hallways as the staff cleaned the ring. Todoroki couldn't use his left side because of the fears from his past, and because of that, Bakugou easily won.

Even from here, (Y/n) could see him struggling against a teacher telling him to calm down for the next match.

Present Mic announced (Y/n)'s name and she walked back into the ring. She stared at Bakugou's feral expressions as he heaved, baring his teeth like a rabid animal.

"You better not cheat me out of winning too, you hear two-faced bitch?"

(Y/n)'s expression remained still, frigid as ice. "I have no need for it." In the instant Present Mic called 'STARTTTT!', she had already dashed forward without batting a single eye. Bakugou swung wildly, explosions bursting from his hands in beams of light. It was easy to dodge since they were small, but that only meant he was charging up his trump card: Howitzer (as he called it).

Remaining in bounds while dodging a large-scale attack would be troublesome, and (Y/n) wasn't keen on dealing with the troublesome.

"Move the fuck away from me!" Bakugou shouted, swinging left.

(Y/n) ducked and side-stepped to the left. At the same exact moment, explosions burst like firecrackers, rising high in the air with a heat so intense, the edge of her gym uniform caught fire.

A sharp pain in (Y/n)'s head made her falter, hissing in pain as the flames curled around her. Then a familiar presence so heavy and dark made her insides threaten to tremble. Her breath hitched as a hand landed on her shoulder. She didn't dare move as Kibutsuji peered down at her, those red, red eyes wide and unblinking.

Bakugou punched (Y/n) in the face and she fell flat on the ground, head spinning.

"Pathetic," Kibutsuji spat. He towered over her as Bakugou threw another punch, screaming in her ears for her to fight back. "Wasting time on child's play will only make you fall farther behind. But I have to say, that plays in my favour."

Kibutsuji's expression darkened, "Have you forgotten? You are my vessel, and I will see to it that you give up and lend me your body."

The pain in (Y/n)'s head increased by tenfold. Sweat gathered on her forehead as Kibutsuji watched intently. She had to leave. But where? There were thousands of people swarming the stadium, and she didn't have anywhere to hide when all eyes were pinned to her front and center. The crowds had begun to whisper among themselves, along with the teachers.

"Why the fuck are you sitting here?!" Bakugou howled, kicking her to the side. He knew she could fight back. He knew she was strong. So why wasn't she standing back up? "You're mocking me, aren't you? Two-faced bitch, get up!"

It was as if (Y/n) had fallen into a frozen lake. Her limbs became numb, stiff as she slowly hauled herself to her feet. She peered through her sweaty hair, teeth grit.

Kibutsuji stepped into her view, raising a brow mockingly. "Were you not promising yourself victory? Beaten by a high schooler. How weak of you."

A swirling, burning fire made (Y/n)'s chest burn and her hands curl into fists. "Shut up." She barely heard her own voice over the roaring in her ears and the racing of her heart. It hurt and it felt like her body were to burst into flames. If it did she would only be ash, a pile of useless dust ready to be swept into the night.

Maybe, long ago, that was her fate. Maybe, someday, it would be true in the now. In the present where nothing was right and everything was bound to go wrong. Bound to lead to only one thing that hung over everyone's heads: death. It was in this moment (Y/n) thought to herself, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Explosions fired across the ring, painting the sky in reds and oranges.

Once her end finally neared, she could welcome it, find it within herself to sleep peacefully forever. The thought was comforting yet nauseating. Bile threatened to gather in (Y/n)'s throat until she curled up and retched at her feet. But it dared not go away, not even when she closed her eyes and thought of what death could bring.

Peace.

Yet there was no peace, not when her heart beat angrily and her pulse only quickened until her hands were numb and sweaty. She stared at her fingers, wondering why they dared to shake when she was supposed to be strong.

A pillar (of hope).

Tremors rushed through her body, knees weakening until they buckled. She could barely hold herself high as Bakugou beat her down, the world wavering as she began to fall into a wall of fire.

Down, down, down, like the lives that were quick to vanish. It became cold, colder than the very breath of winter. And with it came a blanket of sorrow, a wave of emptiness that left her heart completely hollow.

And oh, what was the point of it all?

What if she surrendered this instant, laid down her sword, her very life, and will? What if she bowed to her feet, never to stand again, all for that cruel, evil monster to take her place? But what path was there to take when not a single choice remained?

Even with the ache in her bones, the weariness settling into her soul, what gave her the right to let it all go? What of those that believed in her strength? Believed in her?

It almost made (Y/n) want to laugh. What business did they have with what she wanted, desired in her soul?

The fire burned her flesh, leaving only an ashen scent that made her nose wrinkle. Through the heat, she barely made out the blurry figure of Bakugou, whose face contorted and twisted into an angry scowl.

The flames seemed to stretch for an eternity. An eternity that was not forever yet was, covering the sky in fierce flames until not even the sun dared peek through.

Then, a single tear broke through where blue skies and clouds lazily drifted. Those who took the bait of hope fell into its trap, caged behind truths and lies that blurred into one. They believed it could give them the world--but what world could they envision? What future would it bring? A laugh threatened to break from (Y/n)'s throat so cruel, so dark that it couldn't really have been her.

At least, not the her anyone knew.

The tremble didn't stop. Not in her fingertips, not in her knees, not all the way down to her toes all numb with ice. No anger remained in her body, not even the ache in her heart she knew all too well. It was hollow once again, empty as it should have remained.

(Y/n) closed her eyes. Surrendered to the flames. It was time to leave, time to forfeit all she knew, all she thought she could do when--

A voice. It cut through the depths of her mind, a quiet ring that made her ears hurt. She chose to ignore it. Couldn't they all see? She was done. No more. Yet the voice kept ringing. And ringing. Then it grew into words, sentences and...

A touch to her shoulder. (Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open, vision blurry until it focused. A boy stood in front of her, his name long forgotten, torn away from her mind like the fire long extinguished in her heart. It was cold. So, so cold, yet his hand was warm.

The flames had long vanished, Bakugou was nowhere to be seen. All that was left were the burns along (Y/n)'s arms and the ash in her lungs.

In this abyss of black, a cage in her own mind, only this hand dared touch her so gently, so softly. What point was there in such vulnerability when it would only lead to demise? Because of vulnerability, only crooked doors opened, leading to treacherous lands bleak and grey. Because of vulnerability, a monster was reborn, now ready to wander where peace was said to be true. Because of vulnerability...

...(Y/n) was ready to meet her end.

Then that voice came back, that hand gripping her shoulder falling to her hands, intertwining, tightening.

"(Y/n), come back to me."

Couldn't they see that this was the end? There wasn't another day left to lose, for there were none and all that remained was darkness. No dawn would come, no sun, no blue, blue sky like those eyes that (Y/n) loved so dearly from that man that she loved whose name was--

Akaza.

"(Y/n)," he said, "come back to me."

The darkness flooded with colour. Warm arms held (Y/n) close, where she looked up from someone's chest and was met with sky blue eyes. They flickered from persimmon orange and back. "How are you feeling?" Akaza didn't miss a beat to ask, pulling her closer than ever to inspect each inch of her face. "Do you remember anything?"

Besides the splitting ache in her head, (Y/n) recalled bits and pieces of getting beaten to a pulp while Kibutsuji watched in utter disappointment. She saw Bakugou and she smelled the scent of his sweat before it exploded in her face. Then there was a voice, silence in her loud, loud mind, and then nothing.

A flash of red made (Y/n) shut her eyes. She gripped Akaza's jersey tightly with a heave. He pulled her tighter. "You did well. You're gonna be okay. It's.." He paused, swallowing. "It's gonna be okay."

(Y/n) refused to let Akaza go, even as he carried her to the infirmary.

Kibutsuji was getting stronger. So strong He had been able to take her consciousness in an instant. Bakugou had won sheerly out of luck. But this wasn't mere coincidence--it was a show of power.

Akaza clenched his fists tight. He recalled the threat lingering in the back of his mind, how Kibutsuji promised to kidnap (Y/n) during the upcoming summer camp. Yushiro had everything in the realm of medicine under his belt, why hadn't be discovered a miracle drug yet? What was making it so difficult to achieve?

Time was running out. Kibutsuji was merely steps away from winning.

Until then, Akaza had to keep his cool. He couldn't partake in any defenses against the Demon King, not when he was being spied upon through his very cells.

The Corps had yet to kill (Y/n) because of Kibutsuji's ability to transfer into other beings. It made him a fearsome foe that only grew stronger, meaning once he took full control of (Y/n)'s body, he would be virtually unstoppable.

Akaza could only pray Yushiro were close to some sort of scientific breakthrough.

Modern Era Secrets!

-You were actually getting beaten so bad that Midnight almost stopped the fight. Yoriichi told her to wait.

-Sanemi was pissed. He couldn't believe his eyes, but was glad you kept Kibutsuji at bay. Still, he's gonna beat you up later!

-Yushiro was watching from home and sent out Chachamaru to check on you. He was actually really scared for your safety!

-1-A is kind of mad at Bakugou because they think he took it too far when fighting you.

-Akaza won first place and Kyojurou won second place in the third year side of the sports' festival

-Shigaraki actually was so disappointed when he watched the fight. He was so mad he broke his cup of apple juice.

-the girls of Class 1-A think you are really cool. Although you can be quiet, everyone looks up to you (like an idol)

-Kirishima and Mineta are scared of you.

-when Hawks' sidekicks walked into him watching the sports' festival, they were all concerned because they hadn't seen him look so serious before. How scary!

Chapter Text

The moment Chisaki (Y/n) walked in through the classroom door should have been the moment Aizawa realized she would be trouble. It wasn't that she was trouble, but attracted to it the same as a moth to a flame. No matter where she went, something bad always happened. And after that last stunt while fighting Bakugou, he wanted to say it was a surprise (it really wasn't).

What had even happened anyway? Aizawa wasn't sure, it was hard to see between all of Bakugou's explosions. There had been a lot of hand-to-hand combat, a lot of shouting, and then nothing but eerie silence as (Y/n) fell out of bounds, unconscious. It was clear she held back, but not why.

So how strong was Chisaki (Y/n) really?

The question lingered in Aizawa's mind as he remained still, hands stuffed into his pockets as he slouched. "She'll be okay," he said mostly to himself.

"That's all thanks to Recovery Girl," Soyama said. "Those burns looked pretty bad."

Aizawa blinked. His gaze fell on Soyama and Rengoku, who both sat in the corner of the room side by side. Tsugikuni sat opposite of them, resting his head at the edge of the bed. Ah, he thought. That was right, he wasn't alone. These three hooligans had followed him, muttering quietly to themselves as he filled out all the paperwork and contacted (Y/n)'s guardian, Yamamoto-san, by himself.

If Recovery Girl were still in the room, Aizawa would have gotten an ear full for letting them all follow him here (which he hadn't). A short sigh escaped his lips. "I know you all care," he frowned in annoyance, "but can you all clear the room? (Y/n) will wake up soon and you'll see her on the podium."

An awkward smile rose to Soyama's lips as he hesitantly stood, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, Aizawa Sensei." He really didn't want to leave, but the look on his old teacher's face was enough to make his face threaten to heat up in embarrassment. He could already hear the lecture in his head. You both should know better, you're third years, blah, blah, blah.

Aizawa began shooing them both away. "Don't mind it, just go. Go get your medals, I know you both won again."

Rengoku took Soyama's arm and pulled him towards the door in his stupor. But Soyama's mind was far away, gaze lingering on (Y/n)'s as Rengoku cheerfully said a 'thank you, Sensei!'. The door shut softly as the two exited, leaving the room in what should have been quiet, if not for the last person huddled in one of the infirmary's folding chairs.

Tsugikuni looked almost too small for it with his tall frame. He leaned over the bed, a hand over (Y/n)'s as she peacefully slept. The concern on his face was as clear as day, the same as how easily it was to see the sun rise and set.

This would be Aizawa's last problem of the day. He cleared his throat and tried to sound friendly. "She'll be fine."

The depressing look on Tsugikuni's face only seemed to worsen, which was saying a lot considering he always looked that way. With how gently he held (Y/n)'s hand, one would have thought she died. "She must be exhausted," he said, frowning. "I wonder how much longer she can handle herself."

Aizawa had no clue what Tsugikuni was on about, but did he ever? The man was a newly employed teacher and always so distant, as if his mind were somewhere far away. Even now, Tsugikuni's gaze was in Neverland.

Aizawa rubbed at the back of his head awkwardly, brows knitting. "Uh, yeah." He frowned. "Chisaki falls asleep in class sometimes. I think she has things going on at home, but whatever it is, she tries not to let it bother her. She doesn't usually give up that easily...unless it's math."

The last part completely flew over Tsugikuni's head. There was a deep sorrow in his eyes, where they shone like the sun at dusk, a dark scarlet. "It pains me to know (Y/n)'s brother cut ties with her," he gave her hand a squeeze, "and a part of me believes her fading strength has stemmed from her soured family relations. That is why she lives with her Uncle, Yamamoto-san. I can't imagine how much despair she fights against."

Yeah, because telling your student's private information to her homeroom teacher was a splendid idea. Aizawa's frown seemed to deepen farther than the oceans. He sighed, lips pressed thin. "Well, she looked like she was having fun today--for the most part. Chisaki and Bakugou have some kind of rivalry, I'd assume it might've gotten heated during their last match."

"But (Y/n) is not one to be so rash," Tsugikuni quietly said. "I fear she has bigger things on her mind, and that was what made it difficult for her to face Bakugou. The only reason she lost was because she went out of bounds, she did not forfeit."

Aizawa nodded, taking a seat. "The match was hard to see anyway. It's more surprising she didn't burn herself half to death..."

The fire and smoke from the final match had been an intense display. With explosions blackening the sky that muffled all the shouting, all worst-case-scenarios had began to fill his mind. Third degree burns, broken limbs--Midoriya's Quirk had already been enough to give everyone a heart attack. Who needed another? Midnight and Cementos remained at the ready to stop it until Tsugikuni intervened. Aizawa didn't know what was said, but the thought of refusing to stop a match when it could have endangered his student's life made his hands curl into fists. (Y/n) was extremely strong. Extremely skilled. But that didn't mean she could handle everything on her own.

The words fell from Aizawa's lips, hard and cold, "Why didn't you stop the match?"

Tsugikuni remained still, meeting his gaze questioningly. "You fought alongside her at USJ, have you not seen what she is capable of? I'm sure you understand."

Understand? Aizawa's jaw tightened and his expression darkened like a storm. His insides burned, his head pounded. "Whether or not Chisaki's capable doesn't take away from the fact that we're her teachers. Was that really the best call? Allowing the match to go on when something was probably wrong? If you know her like she says you do, then isn't it obvious she would've easily dodged every attack? Even if you had your reasons, above all, we're here for our students' safety. As a teacher at U.A. High, you should know that better than anyone else."

Aizawa stood abruptly, making his way out the door. It wasn't like him to get so riled up and he hated the way it cracked through his calm facade. "The ending ceremony starts in ten minutes. Wake her up by then."

The door shut sharply behind him.

Yoriichi sighed to himself, slumping in his little plastic chair. Guilt made his heart pang as he gave (Y/n)'s hand a squeeze. Aizawa was right, but his choice was a matter of life and death. What he didn't know was that Kibutsuji had been half a step from overtaking (Y/n)'s consciousness. If she hadn't been able to suppress Kibutsuji's control on live TV, it would have meant he had to kill her.

Someone was always watching. Always. The Commission had been keeping tight tabs on (Y/n)'s activity for the past month or so. They claimed she was becoming 'unstable' and 'unpredictable'. If she had failed in that exact moment, Yoriichi would have been forced to brandish his katana and slice her into a million pieces.

Yoriichi knew every critical point Kibutsuji had created inside (Y/n)'s body with the help of his Sight, but it would take only a single moment's hesitation to fail. A single moment where he would hesitate and fail.

The door opened and a familiar presence entered the room. A tall man the same height as him, same eyes, but different kimono. "Brother," a small smile rose to Yoriichi's lips, "I'm surprised you came."

There was a hardness to Michikatsu's eyes. He stood beside Yoriichi, hands folded tightly together. The air was heavy around his shoulders, threatening to pull him down, down down. "Shinazugawa is out in the stands as we speak. We were lucky this hadn't turned into anything serious." He paused, sighing deeply. "I believe it's only a matter of time before they terminate her."

Yoriichi's expression fell in and instant and the sight made Michikatsu's heart pang in guilt. He pressed his lips tight, placing a hand to his brother's shoulder. "The time we have left to protect her is short."

"But Kibutsuji has yet to take her over completely." Yoriichi stated. "Why now?"

"It doesn't matter, we are running out of time." Michikatsu's gaze fell on (Y/n)'s sleeping face. He remembered her clearly from their time in the Infinity Castle. From the way he nearly severed her arms, to the last screams she shouted at him as she attempted to shred him to bits. There was no possible way to atone for his sins, but he hoped he could preserve her life if it meant paying his dues.

Michikatsu could only sigh again. "I spoke with the Commission this morning. They stated that Chisaki's termination will be moving forward in a matter of weeks if this continues. Oyakata-sama is being cautious and doesn't believe this solve anything. Kibutsuji is intelligent, he will have plans for finding a new vessel the moment Chisaki is dead. We have been ordered by Oyakata-sama to take matters into our own hands and protect Chisaki (Y/n) until further notice."

Michikatsu took a seat, turning to his brother so they were face to face.

"We must remain focused." There was a strength in his words, yet a hidden sorrow. "As we are the last line of defense, our juniors rely on our knowledge to finish everything once and for all. I can imagine the Corps dying out very soon. We will all become obsolete and Breathing will be forgotten. Long ago, the thought saddened me, but I now understand what you meant all those years ago, brother. It would mean we had protected everyone in the name of peace."

The sun shone warmly against Michikatsu's face, illuminating the sunsets that were his eyes. He had never been so relaxed, so at peace with himself. And in that moment, he did not see the man beside him, only the little boy from their youth. The boy he thought deaf and pitiful slowly began to vanish, fading to ash as he had never existed in the first place. What remained was Yoriichi, not as the one he envied, not as the strongest. Only his younger brother.

His younger brother he loved.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to understand," he said. "I will not make the same mistake twice."

---

The sunlight was blinding to (Y/n)'s golden eyes. She squinted, placing a hand to her forehead as confetti fell from the clear, blue skies. The podium was a little too high up for her liking, where Todoroki stood to her left, and Bakugou to her right, shouting and fussing about how he didn't want to be the winner. He had been restrained, tied up against a pole to keep him from running away and beating someone up.

In her dazed state, she scanned her gym clothes. She could only wonder who changed her out of her original pair, burnt to a crisp. But the thought vanished when she realised who stood in front of her.

"Chisaki Shoujo, congratulations on second place!" All Might grinned, pride glowing across his face. As one of her teachers, he was pleased to know she got second place. "You did amazing out there, young Chisaki. You're constantly going beyond, truly in the spirit of our school's motto, plus ultra!"

(Y/n) stood stiff as a block of ice, brows knit in confusion. It had been exactly three minutes since she had been rudely awoken by Yoriichi, who then shooed her out of the infirmary and onto the podium to receive a medal. Apparently at the last second, she had been blown out of bounds by Bakugou's explosions, where Akaza had "so happened" to be to bring her to the infirmary.

"Thank you very much, All Might Sensei." (Y/n) bowed. "I never knew competition could be this...interesting."

The smile on All Might's face softened as he placed a hand to her head. There was a knowing look in his eye as their gazes met, as if he understood what went on in her head, as if he, too, lived it. "It's not a bad thing to enjoy your school life," he kindly said. "Smile! Laugh! That's what youth is about!"

(Y/n) touched her head as All Might turned to Todoroki. Warmth filled her chest, a warmth she hadn't felt since before Kyojurou's death. A gentle smile rose to her face, wistful and melancholy. She watched as All Might gave Todoroki the last medal, that smile so bright and full never once faltering.

The ceremony ended with more confetti as crowds began to file out of the stadium, some lingering to hopefully catch their favourite heroes at the last second.

"I'm gonna set you on fire, Chisaki."

(Y/n) stepped away from the podiums as Bakugou growled in her ear like a rabid dog. She frowned, speeding up her pace to follow Todoroki off the field. "I'd rather you not burn me to ash. I want to go home anyway." As she turned, two rough, sweaty hands grabbed her by the collar. She was held high up so only her toes were on the ground, where Bakugou covered the sun with his dog-like scowl.

"Then tell me why the hell you let me beat you so easily!" There was a craziness to his red eyes as he spat in her face. "You basically forfeited, two-faced bitch! You said you were gonna play fair! Fucking liar! You piss me off!"

(Y/n)'s brows knit and her expression became cold, uninterested. "I didn't forfeit." She vaguely recalled bits and pieces of the fight, from the explosions searing her skin, to the flames licking at her gym clothes. Through all that ash and smoke stood Kibutsuji, who had watched in disappointment as she froze in her spot, weak in the knees. "If anything, you were lucky," she stated. "If you want a rematch, you'll have to wait. I want to go home, so can we do this tomorrow?"

Bakugou heaved like a bull ready to charge out of its cage and released (Y/n). He shoved her, but instead of falling like expected, she remained still. That only pissed him off more. Was he that weak that he couldn't even throw her into the ground? A growl escaped Bakugou's lips and he shoved a finger into her face. "Fuck you! Stupid damn idiot, what the hell are you? Go die!"

With a turn of his heel he was off, grumbling to himself as he stomped across the field like a child. (Y/n) heaved out a sigh, wondering what choices brought her here to this very moment.

The walk back home would have been peaceful if not for the looming presence at her heels. Kibutsuji was in step with her, heartbeat and breath perfectly synced. (Y/n)'s skin crawled, and the harder she tried to force it into the far reaches of her mind, the harder it was to ignore him. He didn't speak, nor did he look her in the eyes. But neither was needed when his mere presence made her shiver.

The sun had begun to set, where streetlamps powered on to chase away the dark. (Y/n) squinted, briefly pausing to cover her eyes from the lights, shining right in her eyes the moment it turned on. Gosh, what were the chances? Her senses suddenly peaked as a presence entered her vicinity. She slowly turned to look over her shoulder, gaze zeroing in on a man with a suit. He awkwardly stood in the middle of the sidewalk, lips pursed tight.

"You're Chisaki (Y/n), correct?"

She frowned, gaze cold as ice. "Who's asking?"

"Me." The man took a breath that shivered. "I need your help."

(Y/n) eyed the man up and down, frowning to herself. It wouldn't hurt to listen. "Why me?"

The man straightened, squaring his shoulders. "I'm a member of the Hassaikai. Kumicho was the one who raised you, so I have belief that you'll be able to help us. Overhaul's been stepping over our values and everything we stood for. If the Boss raised you well, if he taught you everything you needed to know about staying honourable--staying human--you'd understand. You have to, or else we're all doomed."

(Y/n) sensed his fear, could practically smell it in the night air. She felt the anger consuming this man from the inside out, the sorrow weighing his shoulders heavy. It was a stark reminder of what she didn't want to involve herself in, what she didn't want to remember. But then her mind wandered to Oyaji and Eri, and she began to wonder how they were doing in her absence.

A sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips. "What could I possibly do against my brother?" Her voice was colder than winter. "He's strong. He plays mind games. Going against him would mean doing illegal--"

"We all saw you fight today." The man's voice cut through the air like a knife. "We're only low ranking members under Overhaul's command, so we don't have any influence. But you, his sister? You can fight and are the only one who stands a chance against him. The Hassaikai has been corrupted, I can't let it die out without going out with a fight."

The man ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and it was familiar. Nostalgic. He pushed up his glasses, ran a hand over his face. "Kumicho was never sick to begin with, don't you think it's suspicious that he one day ended up bedridden? And that it so happened Overhaul took complete control to divide our ranks?" He paused, meeting her eyes. "(Y/n)-chan, I know you wouldn't abandon Kumicho like that. He took you in as his daughter."

In the man's place, (Y/n) saw someone younger, with sunglasses too small for his face, a suit too big for his tiny shoulders, and hair slickly gelled back. The other boys at the time used to tease and call him a nickname that made him sound even more kiddish than he looked. He always hated being called that, but when the older boys were so affectionate, he couldn't bring himself to stay mad.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened. "Te-chan?"

The man's face reddened in embarrassment and he stuffed his hands into his pockets with a huff. "You still remember that?" Slowly, a warm smile rose to his face and he eased, tense shoulders relaxing. "It's been a while Didn't think you'd really become a hero, though."

(Y/n) shook her head, there was more to the story than any summary could put into words. "What exactly did you have in mind when you asked for my help?"

"I actually have everything here right now." Tetsuya smiled. "I guess I just had a hunch you wouldn't say no." He was quick to provide an outline with a map of places Overhaul had been the most active in. Each contained trade routes, dealers, and notes on how popular the spots were. Most importantly, where the eight clowns (precepts) were dispersed. It seemed they did most of the dirty work, whereas Overhaul remained...

"Why is he mostly at home?" The word felt foreign upon (Y/n)'s lips and made her mouth taste bitter. "Does he spend most of his time working on experiments? I know he was funded by Yaoyorozu-san for quite some time, but since her daughter entered U.A., it must have ended." She recalled the first and last time she visited the building, practically begging for answers on what had happened when she was gone for so many years. The story hadn't been pretty, and by the looks of it, Yaoyorozu had been double crossed by Overhaul.

"Correct, funding has been halted a while ago." Tetsuya closed the map and handed it over. "Meaning the production of that drug they're making has slowed down, too. It's time to strike now."

But with what power? What army? If this new group would only be comprised of the old Hassaikai members, that would mean total defeat. Working in small groups meant dividing manpower across all of Japan. It was no secret that the Hassaikai were one of the largest Yakuza organizations today, but it hadn't been under Oyaji's command. Taking down each trade route would be a slow and steady battle with the little numbers they had, and without a Hero License, there was little help (Y/n) could call upon.

(Y/n) tucked the map into her sweater pocket. "How many of us are there?"

"About a hundred twenty-five."

(Y/n) placed a hand to her chin, frowning. "There are over fifty dealers we are aware of, each spread out across the country. If we divide into groups of ten, we may have a chance of sabotaging transport. Have you began tracking suppliers?"

Tetsuya nodded. "As of now, we've already begun sabotaging transport. Normal members usually bring it over, so it's not a problem. It's when they get suspicious that it gets hard. They've started sending out the Precepts after us."

"Which is why you need my help." (Y/n) concluded. "How can we communicate without being tracked?" Tetsuya pulled out a phone and handed it to her. "A burner phone. Keep the battery out when you don't use it. We usually begin around twenty-two o'clock. Will you lend us your strength, (Y/n)-chan?"

There was a burning fire in her eyes as she placed the phone in her pocket. A newfound strength she hadn't known before. After all she had been through because of her brother, why not cause a little trouble? She heaved out a breath, nodding. "When do we start?"

"Now."

That was how (Y/n) found herself racing through the streets as soon as the clock struck twelve, bundled in a thin, black coat. The moon intently watched overhead, eyeing her carefully as she raced out of the alleyway, steps light and quiet. One of the boys flagged her down, where they made a sharp left. A black van awaited them at the mouth of the alleyway and they leapt inside the back as it took off into the night. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed. Security had been tight around the bar area, as if they knew something was coming.

But above all, (Y/n) hoped Yushiro wouldn't mind her coming home late.

"We should have killed them," Kenji said, veering to the right. He was one of the older men, with a sneer for a smile and an angry scar at his temple. "I don't care if it's suspicious, look what they're doing now!" (Y/n) handed over the briefcase as Tetsuya pulled out a hammer. He opened it and quickly smashed all the bottles. One of the boys took and it and threw it out the window.

"That'll make them stop chasing us, right?"

(Y/n) glanced at Tetsuya with a roll of her eyes. These boys were grown men, what made them think a box would stop three villains with Quirks?

She sighed, "No, but I can handle this." The van's doors swung open, where a gust of wind nearly knocked (Y/n) off her feet. Three large arms extended towards her in a flash, wrapping around her ankles. She sighed to herself. Just another manic Monday, right? In an instant, she was yanked out of the van at the speed of night.

"(Y/N)!"

High in the night skies, she easily pried out of the villain's grip. She maneuvered in the air, turning this way and that as she launched herself off the side of a building with a push. Like a bullet, she flew straight towards the nearest villain with a kick. The man hit the ground with a cry, and before the others could come to his aid, she threw a punch and another kick. All three men had crumpled, half-conscious as they began foaming at the mouth.

(Y/n) dusted off her face and dialed the police. "Hello? Yes, I wanted to report three criminals. I noticed they were dealing drugs, and they tried to hurt me while I was walking home on Eight Street. Alright, thank you very much."

The sound of a van hit (Y/n)'s ears and she hung up, quickly making her way over as it came to a screeching stop. Kenji rolled down the window and motioned for her to hop in. "I hear the police! We're gonna get caught!"

(Y/n) wasted no time in jumping into the passenger seat and buckling up. Sirens wailed all the way back home, where flashing lights illuminated across the streets. Two or three heroes had gone flying towards the scene to assess the damage. Fortunately for them, it had already been taken care of with not even a drop of evidence from who. Anyone who had a flashy Quirk refused to use it for this purpose specifically. None of them could take any chances, not when they were already drawing suspicion.

But what they didn't know was that a pair of eyes had been following them, pinned to the van as it disappeared out of town in a flash of black.

---

The door opened with a creak and (Y/n) was greeted with an empty house. She had been dropped off at the edge of town by Kenji about half an hour ago, who warned her to make sure no one followed her home. And she had--not a soul was in sight--but by not a single soul, she didn't think it would mean coming home to an empty house. The door quietly shut and (Y/n) made her way inside.

On the fridge, she spotted a note hastily written.

Will be home late. Food in fridge. Don't do anything stupid.

Maybe Yushiro had to work late selling art? It wasn't uncommon for him to host galleries every so often, maybe he ended up staying longer than usual. He, after all, was a demon, and didn't need sleep. Maybe he would come home soon. She sure hoped so, it was too quiet without him yapping in her ear all the time.

The next night, (Y/n) hoped to see Yushiro, but again, he was gone. Then the next night, and the next. And so began a new routine in the night: Meet at a designated location with the Hassaikai members, drive to said location, come home late, eat alone, go to sleep, and head to school in the morning.

It was odd, and a part of (Y/n) began to worry when she realised she hadn't seen Yushiro in four days. He always cooked meals and left them in the fridge, but was never around when she came home from school. Chachamaru would sometimes greet her in the mornings, but it became rare to see either of them at all.

Empty. That was the only feeling gnawing at (Y/n)'s insides as each day passed. Even Akaza had become distant. She recalled the sight of his gentle face when she nearly lost control at the Sports' Festival. How warm he had been, how secure she had felt in his arms. Yet a part of her felt a strange dissonance the same as nails to a chalkboard. In the fleeting moments where they exchanged glances in the halls, his smile began to tighten, his blue, blue eyes clouding over. It was as if he, too, felt the strength of Kibutsuji. Did he fear it the same as her?

When Saturday rolled around, the sound of the front door opening jolted (Y/n) awake from her slumber. She raced down the stairs, brushing her bangs out of her face as she scanned the living room. "Oji-san?"

Yushiro shut the door and looked up, meeting her gaze. He was very pale even for a demon, with tired eyes and a crinkled brow that aged him despite being...ageless. And as (Y/n) made her way over, Chachamaru meowed rather sadly, as if something were wrong. She picked him up, giving him a good scratch on the chin. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry, it's been a busy week." Yushiro's voice was quiet, grave. He ran a hand over his messy hair, pushing it out of his eyes. "I'm not sure how things are looking right now."

(Y/n)'s stomach sank, filling with a cold feeling like ice. She swallowed, thinking back to the day at the Sports' Festival. Did it have to do with Kibutsuji? Was it finally time for her to put her katana to her neck and sleep for good?

Yushiro placed a hand to her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts. "I know I don't say this often, but you are very strong, (Y/n)." He pulled her close, resting her head to his shoulder. "Whatever happens, I know you refuse to admit defeat." There was a softness in his eyes as he looked at her again and placed a hand to her head. There was something unspoken sitting on his lips, something so despairing he could not voice into words.

As Yushiro retreated up the stairs and into his room, (Y/n) remained still in the too quiet house.

Monday came quickly like the sun rising over the horizon. First thing in the morning, Aizawa announced internships. He went over the basis of what was important to remember when choosing an agency, and that everyone represented U.A. the moment they walked out of the doors. (Y/n) was handed a thick packet tucked away in a manila folder.

At the top of the list was Hawks's agency. It seemed he had been the first to submit a request for her. (Y/n) huffed to herself, recalling the vague memories of her victory. It hadn't felt like it, not when she fainted and was taken to the infirmary over something so trivial. But what mattered most was she hadn't hurt anyone.

The week ended with everyone gathering at a busy train station. (Y/n) had bid Yushiro goodbye the morning of and informed her group that she would be unavailable this week due to her internship. With only a backpack and the case with her hero uniform, she feared she would get swept up in the crowds pushing past her to leave for work. Kirishima, on the contrary, looked about ready to explode from excitement.

"I can't believe it!" he said, punching the air. "Already, we're going to have internships and do real hero work!"

Bakugou huffed with a sneer. It was too early for this, and with all the crowds, he didn't want anymore people talking. "Shut up. You're too damn loud."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. Bakugou must have noticed because he sent her a nasty glare, to which she frowned in disinterest. "Why don't you shut up?" The mocking tone only made him round on her with gritted teeth. In an instant, he shoved a finger in her face, to which she slapped his hand away and curled a hand into a fist.

"Don't touch me!"

"I'm gonna kill you!"

"Sure, I'd like to see you try!"

Kirishima nervously laughed and patted them both on the back. "Okay, okay, chill." He pulled them apart like two dogs having a skirmish and set them aside. "We're all about to leave, can't we be nice? It's gonna be a good four or so days before we see each other again."

(Y/n) only frowned, turning her back to glare at a train map. "Four days of peace without him? Count me in." She made her way over to Ashido as Kirishima sighed with a face palm. "Will either of you ever get along?"

Bakugou stamped over to (Y/n), but before he could open his mouth, Aizawa caught him by the collar. Was it possible to throw him away and never have to deal with him again? "We're in public, so behave. And before any of you leave, remember you're students representing U.A.. Be respectful and stay safe on your internships. Got it?"

Everyone shouted an 'okay!', to which Aizawa nodded in approval. "Good."

(Y/n) savoured the warmth of the sun shining against the side of her face. It warmed her numb limbs, eased the ache in her tense shoulders. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Ashido as one of the trains pulled up to the platform. A part of her wanted to say something nice before leaving, but the thought of being embarrassing popped into her mind and she stilled.

Thankfully, Ashido made the first move.

"Wait, Chisaki," she said, pulling out her phone. "Smile!"

(Y/n) stared at the screen, eyes wide as Ashido held up a peace sign. "H-huh?"

Snap!

A giggle escaped Ashido's lips and she held up the phone. "Aw, that's so cute. I'm gonna send this to you later, okay?" (Y/n)'s cheeks were warm, maybe from the sun or maybe her own bashfulness. "Alright."

All Ashido did was grin, eyes all aglow with excitement. She couldn't wait for the internships, it was finally something interesting to think about. "You're gonna be with Hawks right? Makes me a little jealous, haha! Have fun, I know you're gonna do great!"

And although those words may have been so simple and short, a gentleness fell upon (Y/n)'s face as she smiled warmly. In the soft morning light, her golden eyes shone like little flakes of gold, sparkling. "You too, Ashido. Have fun and learn a lot."

"Mina!" she corrected, that smile widening. "Just call me Mina."

(Y/n) blinked. "Mina-chan?"

"Mhm!" The cheerfulness in her voice was clear as day, a stark contrast to (Y/n)'s usual icy exterior. She couldn't recall how the two had become friends, nor why, but she didn't need to, not when someone so kind and joyful stood beside her. What more could she ask for?

"Then call me (Y/n)," she said. "I'll see you soon, Mina-chan."

A gust of wind passed through the station as the train rattled along the tracks. It quickly disappeared, where another train to the left came to a screeching stop. (Y/n) stepped towards it, bidding her friends goodbye. She sent Bakugou a glare just to spite him, and he sent her a thumbs down.

"Go die!" he shouted. "Don't act like we're friends!"

(Y/n) rolled her eyes at him and turned on her heel. "I never said we were friends."

The train was too crowded, too filled with people to even be considered habitable. (Y/n) squeezed her way by, watching as the doors shut with a final call. Her friends on the platform called out her name as she shyly waved back, mouthing a final 'bye' as the train took off. The air was heavy as the station disappeared, vanishing into a mere blur.

After hours of switching trains and passing through nearly half of Japan, (Y/n) finally stepped off. She followed GPS, turning this way and that until she stopped in front of a bustling street with a shiny, tall building. It wasn't too difficult to find considering it was such a famous place smack-dab in the middle of the city.

(Y/n) made her way to the front doors, only to pause and slowly turn to her left. She could have sworn he was going to a different agency. "Tokoyami?"

The boy practically jumped out of his skin, eyes wide as saucers. "Chisaki-san? I had no idea you were interning here as well. What an utter surprise. It makes me wonder how he chose me when you were the better candidate."

Ah, Tokoyami was quite formal, wasn't he? (Y/n) shook her head politely as the two made their way into the front lobby. "Don't say that, I'm sure you were chosen for a reason, Tokoyami."

The main lobby was an organized chaotic mess. Some heroes sprinted out of the building to answer calls, others made those calls, and some filed papers, stacking them high to the ceiling. (Y/n) weaved past a few side-kicks making their way to the front doors, being careful not to bump into anyone.

At the end of the hall towards the elevators, a familiar winged man made his way through the chaos, waving a hand. Hawks looked the same as he always had, with a lazy, relaxed smile, and eyes that deceivingly looked uninterested but were. He stopped in front of the two and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Ah, Tokoyami, was it? Mind heading over with my side-kicks down the hall? They'll help get you settled."

"Of course!"

(Y/n) could sense Tokoyami's nerves even from half a foot away. She sent him a wave. "Good luck. I'm sure you'll be just fine."

He waved nervously, "Same to you, Chisaki-san."

Hawks turned to (Y/n), expression warming. "You're coming with me, obviously." He motioned for her to walk with him. "I know this is supposed to be an internship, but you don't really need that."

The halls became quieter the further strayed from the chaos of the front lobby. The two stepped into an elevator, where a calmer quiet fell upon the air. (Y/n) allowed her shoulders to deflate as she leaned against the wall, sighing. "I'm sure you watched the Sports' Festival," she said, staring at the closed doors. "What a disaster."

Hawks let out a snort. "Yeah, I saw the live stream of your final fight," he whistled, "that was a close one, huh?"

"It was." (Y/n) felt her lips thinning. "What are you planning to do with Tokoyami?"

Hawks sent his gaze to the wall as if he already knew the answer wouldn't be a good one. "Well, I'm gonna be honest, I was more curious about his take on USJ..."

There was ding! and the elevator came to an abrupt stop, doors swishing open. (Y/n) sent Hawks a big side eye and he awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. There was no coming back from that one. "Okay, yeah, not good, right? I'll incorporate him in the internship, promise." The two stepped into the hall. "Besides, he's a bird like me. Either way, we'll get along swimmingly."

(Y/n) didn't have much faith, but chose to say nothing. Her look of disappointment was enough to make Hawks deflate.

It was much quieter on this floor than the lobby, where mostly office rooms and doors lay without the frantic side kicks running anout. There was a common room, a break room, and even a kitchen. At the end of the hall was an office, where the two stepped inside. Large sparkling windows overlooked the city, where cars streaked past and tiny people dotted the streets. A neat desk sat in the corner of the room, along with two long couches and a coffee table. The door shut quietly.

(Y/n) set her things down and took a seat on one of the couches, shifting awkwardly. The air was heavy, constricting. "I'm not in trouble, am I?" Hawks took a seat next to her and tried for a smile, but it was terse. He looked like he were trying to hold himself back, as not to scare her. "Well, it's gotten a little more complicated, but it's not impossible. I mean, you're not on death row."

(Y/n) sent him a pointed look.

"...yet." he added, rubbing the back of his head. "Okay, but like, how were we supposed to know any of that would happen at the Sports' Festival? It was like Kibutsuji did it on purpose to sabotage you. And honestly, that sounds exactly like what happened."

Kibutsuji was obviously very intelligent, but making a show of power couldn't have just been to sabotage (Y/n)'s reputation. He wasn't so shallow. "The Festival was broadcasted across all of Japan, wasn't it?"

"Yes." said Hawks. "Yeah, I know, unfortunate, huh?"

"If Kibutsuji did that all on purpose, could it have been a way to communicate with someone? Shigaraki had said his Sensei wanted to collaborate. What if it was a way to confirm, or show that whatever was happening behind the scenes was going to start?" It was all speculation, but a part of (Y/n) had already begun to believe something beyond her knowledge was happening. How else had that Nomu been made?

Kai had always told (Y/n) to watch her back, especially when things got too quiet.

Hawks placed a hand to his chin in thought, sinking into the couch with a hum. "If Shigaraki and whoever this 'sensei' is are planning something, we'll have to be careful. He hasn't shown his face since USJ, so it's been impossible to track him down. Unless he tries something again, we're not gonna be able to find him. Besides that," he clapped his hands together with a grin, "I ordered lunch! Aren't I just the best advisor for your internship?"

(Y/n)'s stomach grumbled and her face rose with heat as Hawks let out a laugh.

Once the food had been brought up, the two began brainstorming ways to track down Shigaraki. It seemed most of the work had already been done (maybe by other people Hawks worked with?). There were concept maps, notes, printed documents, and pictures all laid out on the coffee table. As (Y/n) scanned the contents, her insides only continued to curl.

(Y/n) held a picture of the USJ nomu carefully, as if the image would jump out and attack her. Even as a Hashira, she found herself threatening to cave in. It was a formidable beast, one that may not have any weaknesses at all. "They can't have more of those things, can they?" she inquired, frowning. "It isn't as if they developed into an organization."

Hawks wiped his hands of sauce and took a sip of bubble tea. He leaned over (Y/n)'s shoulder to stare at the picture. "We still don't have a read on Shigaraki since he's mostly unorganized. He said something about All Might, right? Maybe that's the reason why they want to team up with Kibutsuji. They need more manpower."

"But why All Might?"

"He's the Symbol of Peace." Hawks took a bite out of his chicken and (Y/n) wondered if it was cannibalism. "Maybe they have beef with him, heck, everyone had beef with him at some point since he's the top hero. But our goal is just to make sure they don't do anything crazy." He couldn't imagine anything happening to (Y/n). It wasn't like she was his favourite (she was), or that he was becoming extremely attached to her (he was), just that she was someone he didn't want to see suffer anymore.

They were, after all, friends. Good friends.

(Y/n) took a sip of her milk tea and pondered. "Have you been in contact with anyone recently?"

Hawks's expression immediately soured. He continued to chew, nearly stabbing himself in the cheek with a skewer in the process. "I don't want to give you a heart attack, but I think most of the Demon Slayer Corps had been revived. I've worked with a few of them and all I can say is they're an interesting bunch."

A small snort escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she set the photo back into its folder. She could already think of a few faces. "Who was it?"

"Iguro Obanai, Shinazugawa Sanemi, and Tsugikuni Michikatsu. Out of all of them, I think Tsugikuni is the weirdest." He paused, gaze meeting (Y/n)'s. He wasn't sure why her brows had begun to knit tightly, or why she had begun to look so afraid, but he didn't need to ask. It was enough to make his mouth shut. "How about we call this a wrap? Time for some hero work out in the streets."

The quick words broke (Y/n) from her stupor. She nodded slowly, gathering the files carefully. The image of a tall man in a purple kimono filtered into her mind, where six eyes pierced into her very soul. "Hawks, you do know who Tsugikuni Sensei's brother was before, right?"

"Ah." Hawks connected the dots. He had seen Shinazugawa keep his younger brother away from Michikatsu, as well as eye the man down as if he were a devil. Maybe Michikatsu was, but nothing was quite said out loud. "Was he a demon?"

(Y/n) went quiet, mouth running dry. "Yes. He was."

Hawks's gaze softened and he finished gathering the last of the files. Once they were tucked safely in his desk, the two headed out into the open city. He was protective with (Y/n), careful when working alongside her. She could take care of herself, but a pull in his gut told him otherwise.

The circumstances were unpredictable. Every moment waiting was another chance for Kibutsuji to strike. Hawks hovered in the air, soaring as his feathers were sent out across the city. He watched as (Y/n) helped a lady cross the street, stop a burglar, and catch three bullies all in a single breath. She was just as quick as him.

The only difference was she couldn't relax.

In the back of (Y/n)'s mind, she had a feeling the Commission were ready to take her head. If that happened, it would have all been for the better, but what of Akaza? What of Yushiro and Chachamaru? What of her friends? The weariness in Yushiro's eyes, the sorrow practically falling off his shoulders. She couldn't imagine what her death would do to any of those she cared about.

And suddenly, a strange pang of fear leaked into (Y/n)'s chest. A strange worry of what if. She thought of Eri, of her brother and the Hassaikai, of Oyaji, of the group of men she collaborated with in the night. Her death would mean abandoning all she had built, all she had slowly grown to appreciate. She had responsibilities, ties to this life.

Was (Y/n) afraid to die? She had wanted death for so long, wishing with all her might for its final reaping. Yet now as it seemed to loom so close over her head, she wasn't sure it was what she wanted. It was said that one's true nature came in the face of death, was this (Y/n)'s true nature? Her cowardice?

A rock suddenly caught on her shoe. (Y/n)'s eyes widened and she braced herself for impact against the hard concrete. A pair of arms swooped her into the air at the last second, holding her close.

"Whoa there Little Birdie, wouldn't want you falling and hurting yourself, right?" Hawks smiled and it was soft, boyish. "All we can do right now is focus on what we know. Worrying about what's gonna happen won't do you any good."

There was a strong conviction that made his crimson eyes shine like gems, like the sun itself. It cast his whole face in light, in hope that things would turn out alright. And maybe that was because it was all anyone could do. Hawks didn't know the future, but for her, he would try to change it.

"I'm not gonna let you die, (Y/n). Not on my watch." With those firm eyes, she knew he meant it. Every word. "So keep your head high!"

The sun eventually traversed its way across the sky, leaving only darkness in its wake. The city lights drowned out every star, leaving only the moon to shine overhead. (Y/n) leaned over the edge of the balcony's railing, drinking in the sights below. For whatever reason, Hawks called it quits early in the evening and allowed her to stay at his humble apartment. He wasn't able to rest like her and instead bid her goodbye until he returned. He told her to get some rest, watch TV, and eat as much as she wanted.

The gesture was well appreciated, but (Y/n) couldn't help but wonder what Tokoyami was doing. She hoped he could tail Hawks now that she was resting (and that he actually cared to give him attention like he did her).

After heading inside, (Y/n) turned on the TV and laid down on the couch. With the gentle music playing in the background and the cosiness of the house, her eyes began to flutter. She rested her head, giving in to the lull of sleep. That was when a small 'ding!' made her jolt. She stared at her phone, squinting.

Te-chan
are you nearby Hosu?
trouble, I think.

(Y/n) sat up, eyes widening. A train ride from Kyushu to Hosu would take at least six to seven hours, which was incredible considering how it used to take over a week and a boat ride to get that far. Still, it was far, and she was on an internship with Hawks. If she left right now, would he even be okay with that?

No, that was ridiculous. Of course he wouldn't be okay with that. She was his intern. He wasn't going to leave her alone, especially if it meant running the risk of her getting hurt.

(Y/n) quickly texted back, making sure to keep it vague in case anyone so happened to look through his phone.

(Y/n)
in kyushu, so not even close to you.

Te-chan
you're far that's okay. we can handle it.
don't worry about us, focus on your internship

There was a tug in (Y/n)'s gut.

(Y/n)
Are you sure?

Te-chan
we're fine. don't sweat it!

(Y/n) laid back down, sighing. She couldn't help but worry. Overhaul was not her brother. He would kill without blinking an eye, would take without ever giving, and dye his hands red without regret. But Kai? He would kill to protect, give without asking to ever take, and dye his hands red without regret if it meant doing so for her sake and only hers.

Would he kill those who opposed him? (Y/n) didn't want to stare the answer straight in the face, not when it made her stomach churn and her insides curl. She closed her eyes and flopped down on the couch, heaving out a breath as she turned on her side. Minutes or hours could have passed and she wouldn't even know. It was as if time had completely vanished, leaving her floating between the present and the future.

By the time Hawks arrive, (Y/n) had passed along into the world of slumber. She lay dead asleep, and if Hawks hadn't checked to make sure she was breathing, he would have thought she were dead. He easily scooped her into his arms and set her down in the guest room. He tucked her in, made sure the pillow wasn't too high or too low, and whispered a quiet goodnight.

It was the first time he had seen her so relaxed, so...normal. Not that (Y/n) wasn't normal, just that he found it hard sometimes remembering she was just a kid. A part of him had a feeling (Y/n) forgot herself. She never had such luxuries.

There was a pang in Hawks's chest as he made his way to the door. "Goodnight," he softly said, shutting the door. "Sleep well, Little Birdie."

A ding! came from the living room. Hawks picked up (Y/n)'s phone from the couch, where another ding! sounded. The screen lit up and he stared at it, frowning. All that lay on the screen was a location from someone named 'Te-chan'. No words, no nothing. Hawks frowned to himself and pulled out his phone. There was a pull in his gut, an uneasy feeling that made him move quicker than the wind.

He opened his phone and searched the location. Google Maps revealed an alleyway on the outskirts of Hosu. It looked dingy, with a small bar and a couple closed shops covered in graffiti. "Hm, sketchy..." He searched the nearest hero agency in the area and dialed front desk.

"Hello? Pro-Hero Hawks, mind checking Krei's Izakaya? Thanks." He hung up without explanation, that calm facade slipping off his face as he knit his brows tightly. No one would send their location without an explanation in a suspicious area unless for help or to lure someone there. The izakaya was located in a rundown area, it was even possible the place wasn't a legitimate pub.

But why send that location to (Y/n)? She was a hero student--a kid--what business would she have there? And who was Te-chan? By the looks of it, the person could be a friend or associate. But who would (Y/n) associate with? She didn't have many friends, much less connections since she left her childhood home.

Hawks's mind raced. He paced, humming to himself.

With (Y/n)'s ability to get mixed into trouble, there was a chance she might have kept contact with some of the Hassaikai. Was she keeping tabs on her brother? Trying to spy in on his business?

He ran a hand through his windswept hair and rubbed at his forehead with a groan. "What in the world are you doing, kid?"

Modern Era Secrets!

-Yushiro is working hard on a project. He always feels so bad that he comes home late, so he makes your favourite meals and desserts the next day to apologise
-Akaza has been really busy lately. Besides the occasional wave and hug either at the beginning of school, during, or after, you haven't gone on many dates. He misses you dearly and always looks like a sad puppy when you see him. You hope he can hang out soon!
-Hawks sees you as a sister and thinks you're so fun to make fun of every now and then
-Kyojurou thankfully is by Akaza's side. The two are really good friends and have all classes together. They are almost never seen without the other.
-Mitsuri and Obanai still run that bakery, sometimes you go to visit after school. Oddly enough, Mitsuri treats you just like how she would before. She's never changed one bit.

Chapter Text

There was definitely something wrong with Hawks today. As (Y/n) dragged herself out of the warm, cosy bed (wishing with all her heart she didn't have to) she was greeted with the sweet smell of pancakes and eggs. To see Hawks smile sleepily, so freely, as if there was nothing wrong with the world, was normal. He always looked quite carefree.

But then his wings ruffled and he began to fiddle with his fork when they sat down. Then he looked at his phone and the clock, and began frowning to himself in thought. Hawks didn't even try to hide the concern on his face, and the more (Y/n) stared, the more uneasy she became.

"Is...something wrong?"

Hawks looked up from his half-eaten plate in surprise. "Wrong? Pfft, what do you mean?" He took a bite of his food. "You look like you didn't sleep much. But you always look tired."

The jab flew over (Y/n)'s head. She only scratched at her head, "Surprisingly, I slept pretty well." And it was true, that had to be the most well-rested she had been in a while. Maybe it was the fact she was finally home with someone else for the first time in a while. Yushiro and Chachamaru were almost never home anymore.

A ding! cut into the air and (Y/n) stared at her phone with narrowed eyes. She finished the last bite on her plate, chewing slowly.

All that stared back at her was a single location in Hosu and the name of some bar, where the words 'HELP' were sent right after.

Hawks stood first as if on cue. "Looks like it's time to head out, huh, Little Birdie?" He smiled and there was a glimmer in his eyes, a look of understanding. "Tell me where we need to go."

(Y/n) didn't have time for questions. She shoved all the plates into the sink and pulled on her shoes. Before she could rip the front door open, Hawks held out his arms. "We're going this way." He scooped her up and they burst out onto the porch and into the blue-bird skies.

The sun did no good to warm (Y/n)'s cold limbs. She dared not to shiver as the wind whipped through her hair, even as the chill bit into her bones. Hawks soared across the skies, shooting like a star. They made their descent at the agency, where Hawks called Tokoyami over and shoved everyone into a car. One of the side-kicks drove, dropping them off at the train station.

Tokoyami turned to (Y/n) as Hawks began purchasing tickets. "Where are we going?"

"Hosu." (Y/n) stared at the location on her phone, brows knitting tight. She didn't know how to explain this to Tokoyami, but it wouldn't be fair leaving him in the dark. "There was something urgent Hawks needed to take care of. Since we're his interns, he's taking us with him."

Hawks looked rather busy despite not tapping the screen to purchase tickets. (Y/n) glanced over at him as he turned to look away, frowning to herself. "Did you pirchase them in advance...?"

Hawks turned with a big thumbs up. "Right you are, my little intern! I came prepared!"

"...Then why are we here...?"

Hawks ignored the question and directed everyone up towards the platform. He kept that silly, little smile on his face, even as they all boarded the train and sat down. It wasn't like Hawks was trying to hide something, but maybe he didn't want to talk about it in front of Tokoyami. Who, unlike (Y/n), would probably get neevous right away.

Speaking of nervous, Tokoyami was rather figity. "Is there a reason for our sudden departure halfway across the country?"

Hawks could only shrug casually. It was hard to see what he was thinking. "Nah, just thought we might get a change of scenery. It should be a little more exciting in Tokyo than here, don't you think?"

Tokoyami took the bait the same as a child would accept candy from a stranger. "Considering there is a larger population there, I can understand the crime rates are high."

A reasonable conclusion, no doubt, but far from hitting the mark. Hawks must have noticed something wrong when he came home last night. Maybe he had seen the text message? She had left her phone in the living room. It had been mysteriously plugged into the charger in the morning (thank you, Hawks).

(Y/n) eyed Hawks through his reflection in the window, gaze sharp and calculating. "So, high crime rates, right? I heard Stain was spotted in the area recently. Specifically, Hosu, where we are heading."

Hawks met (Y/n)'s gaze with equal care, raising a brow inquisitively. "After the incident with Igenium, he hasn't been seen. It's like he disappeared off the map. I doubt we'll see him."

A strike of fear filled Tokoyami's aura. He gulped, eyes widening. "But that means we have a chance of encountering him. His crimes are terrifying."

(Y/n) relaxed her face and tried for a reassuring smile. "Either way, as interns we're not allowed to do hero work without a license."

"Exactly." agreed Hawks. "Relax, don't sweat it."

But Tokoyami didn't look quite relaxed. Instead, he turned towards the window, watching as grass and trees rolled by in a blur.

As the three hour mark hit, Hawks disappeared to go find food, leaving (Y/n) to her own devices. She pressed her lips thin, wracking her brain for a way to comfort her classmate who still fidgeted. "If it makes you feel better, I'm also a bit nervous." She brushed the stray hairs from her face, eyes softening. "The change of scenery is quite sudden and I haven't been to Tokyo in a while. I don't do well in big cities."

Tokoyami's brow furrowed and he placed his hands on his knees. "You're...nervous? But Chisaki, out of all the first years, I know for certain you're the strongest. I saw you yesterday, you're able to keep up with Hawks so easily. I tried to catch up, but every time you both were too fast. I was told by the other side-kicks at the agency it's normal but..."

"But what?" There was a gentleness to (Y/n)'s voice that was the same as late night snow. It blanketed the air, bringing with it only a breeze of calm. "I know what you're thinking: These two are so strong, how can I work alongside them? Years, and years, and years of toil brought me to the level you see now, and it only continues the stronger I wish to become. Comparing any of us to you would be unfair, as you haven't had the training to get to the level you see. You're a work in progress, and that's okay."

(Y/n) paused, a small apologetic smile rising to her lips. "I'm sorry if that sounded arrogant. Just know that you can and will become stronger with time."

And it was as if those years and years of toil wrote itself across (Y/n)'s face. Her golden eyes like molten lava were filled with age, age that made her wiser. Stronger. Tokoyami wondered what she had seen and done to become who she was, but a part of him felt she was so untouchable he may never know. It would be out of line to ask about her past and what she did. He could sense it just by the look on her face.

Hawks took his sweet time returning from wherever he had gone to. (Y/n) was ready to make a snarky comment about how he was slow for being the fastest guy around, but the three bento in his arms shut her up real fast.

Maybe Hawks had taken his sweet time for a reason. (Y/n) didn't care to ask as she dug into her gyudon with an 'itadakimasu!'. This wasn't the first time she had eaten gyudon on a train. The last time she had it, Kyojurou had bought too much from this old woman and her granddaughter they helped. She stopped the memory and instead sent a quick text to Kyojurou. He responded just as fast with a picture of him and Hakuji.

A smile rose on (Y/n)'s face and her heart fluttered at the photo of her beloved.

"Which one is your boyfriend?"

(Y/n)'s face grew hot and she switched off my phone. "W-what do you mean? Boy-who?"

Tokoyami blinked, raising a brow. "You don't have a boyfriend anymore?"

Wow. Apparently it was common knowledge she did. "I do have a boyfriend!" (Y/n) slapped a hand over her mouth. She said that way too loudly. "His name is Hakuji. He goes to our school."

"He's a hero student too, right?"

(Y/n) side-eyed Hawks. "I don't recall telling you that." He only smiled innocently as she shook her head. "Hakuji is a third year, but I've known him for a long time. He was...a childhood friend."

Which wasn't lie, but sure felt like one.

"It's incredible you're able to balance life and school so equally, Chisaki. I find it admirable." Tokoyami was very honest and kind with his words. It made (Y/n)'s face a little flushed. She shook it off. "No, you don't have to speak so highly of me."

Throughout the last stretch of the ride, Tokoyami wandered off to find a bathroom. (Y/n) seized her chance to interrogate Hawks, who could only sink into his seat with a sigh.

"I was concerned," he admitted. "I charged your phone when you fell asleep and saw the message. I wasn't gonna wake you up, but I called the nearest agency about it. Someone else also went to check it out."

(Y/n)'s brows knit. "Who?"

"You're not gonna like this, but I sent Tsugikuni."

(Y/n) felt her stomach drop. "Michikatsu?"

"Michikatsu." Hawks looked equally disappointed. "There wasn't anyone else available who was closer. His brother was an hour away, but I needed someone then and there."

"But why send him? Was it really that serious?"

Hawks suddenly looked rather concerned. He placed a hand to (Y/n)'s head, smiling easily. "Leave the big stuff to me for now, okay? I need you focused on one thing at a time."

But even when the train ride ended, (Y/n) worried about those bigger things. Hawks and Tokoyami had already started into the streets, stopping local robberies and helping little kids cross the street like it were no big deal. She lagged behind, where crowds of students began flooding the streets. They threatened to sweep her away, and in an instant, she was gone.

Stealth had always been any slayer's key instinct. With steps quiet as night, and a speed quicker than light, (Y/n) wove through the streets and into the back alleyways. She folloaed the GPS a good fifteen minutes before coming to a stop at an intersection, where an izakaya'a lights flickered on and off. It was odd to have the neon sign on in broad daylight, had someone forgotten to turn it off?

Dirty newspapers littered the street, where an overflowing trashcan sat in a little corner by one of the entrances. A rat scuttered by with a squeal and (Y/n)'s nose crinkled in pure disgust. By the lamppost, a big letter sat tacked in bold letters.

Behind you! >3

(Y/n) whipped around, hand instinctively grabbing for her katana. Her fingers curled around air and she cursed to herself while surveying the street. "Who's there?" Her senses were tingling, alarm bells ringing. "I know you're there." A moment of silence passed before a figure leapt off the roof. The man was clad in an oversized raincoat and a plague mask, where goggles reflected the sun's sharp beams.

The air was suddenly too hot to breathe. "What are you doing here?"

Hari pulled off his mask. He eyed (Y/n) up and down, brows knitting in disinterest. "I could ask you the same. Aren't you supposed to be all the way in Kyushu?"

(Y/n)'s brows knit and she scoffed. "How would you know?" Hari said nothing, an indication he must have been keeping tabs on her one way or another. She rolled her eyes so cold like ice. "I would ask if you put that note there, but that isn't your handwriting. It's too neat."

"My handwriting is fine, thank you very much." Hari yanked it off the lamppost and his jaw clenched. He recalled a recent run-in in an abandoned part of town, where blood had splattered against the concrete and a full-on declaration of war nearly echoed against the warehouse walls. He turned over the paper and a breath escaped his lips, eyes widening. "We need to leave."

"What are you talking about?" (Y/n)'s insides were tingling, but she pushed it aside. It was nerves. "You're just trying to--"

Hari tackled (Y/n) to the ground with the force of a speeding car. Her head slammed into the ground as they rolled away. Needles of ice pierced where they once stood, cracking the asphalt into little pieces. In an instant, Hari had seized her by the wrist, hauling her along the narrow alleyways as a playful laugh echoed behind. It was sickly sweet yet artificial, the same as if one were trying to imitate a feeling of joy but couldn't.

Fear. That was the only thing filling (Y/n)'s gut as Kibutsuji's watchful eyes bore into the side of her face. Through the blood dripping down the side of her face and the adrenaline pumping in her veins, that fear quickly vanished, molding into an anger so hot it dared to melt her insides. The ice in her heart was no longer, instead lighting into flames that turned her eyes into molten lava.

Hari kept yanking (Y/n) along. He refused to let go, not even when he saw the look in her eyes. She probably had a concussion, and even without it, he wouldn't dare let her deal with that monster on her own.

(Y/n) hadn't been sure how long she had been running for, but when they came to a screeching stop, Hari immediately collapsed to his knees, beads of sweat dripping down his pale face. He looked sickly now that she saw him more clearly, shaken. "Are you alright?"

Hari shook his head. "Should...be asking...you. Hit...your head...you..." He heaved, letting out an exhausted sigh. "Kai's...gonna kill me." Whether he meant that literally or figuratively, (Y/n) didn't ask. She touched a hand to her forehead, where red, red blood dripped down her fingertips. The pain hadn't quite hit, but the world was quickly fading in and out, skipping across her vision like a video game in the process of loading.

"Had you seen anyone before you arrived?"

Hari sent (Y/n) an incredulous look, jaw agape. "Urgh." He pointed an accusing finger at her. "I knew you were up to something! Those guys--do you know how much trouble they are? Stop sticking your nose in business where it doesn't belong! I only let them go because I saw that crazy guy! If Kai found out, he'd go ballistic! Do you know what you're even doing? Do you know how dangerous it is? Do you?"

(Y/n)'s insides still burned, that fire only growing brighter with hatred. "Do you know how I felt when you both abandoned me?" She shoved Hari and he fell to her feet limply. "Stop acting like you care! You don't! If you knew what was best for me, you would have helped me instead of leaving me!"

And suddenly, (Y/n)'s voice rose to a shout, then a scream she couldn't even recognize.

"But you didn't! Neither of you did! And Kai thinks he's all that because he's my big brother--no, no, no! I don't care what either of you think, you don't know me! And whatever black market stuff you're doing? Quit it! Money, no money, it doesn't matter. Stop tainting the Hassaikai's legacy!" She heaved, jaw clenched tight enough to snap her teeth to dust. "Oyaji took you in! He raised you with us! Show his memory some respect! Show me some respect!"

Why would Hari show up like this after torturing her with his words? Why would he suddenly save her and act as if what happened was only a dream? How laughable, how cruel. (Y/n) placed a hand to the wall to steady herself. Her head spun, the world dancing with spots.

"If...you really cared," she forced the words from her throat and it burned, "neither of you would have left me." Her knees buckled, and as gravity pulled her down, Hari caught her. He couldn't meet her eyes. Not when guilt made his chest heavy.

"I'm sorry," he quietly said, "let's just get you somewhere safer."

By somewhere safer, (Y/n) didn't expect to be laid on a park bench in front of FamilyMart. She had already healed the wound, but Hari remained insistent she rest while he run to the store to grab some food. His figure became smaller as he disappeared in the store, where she watched him hurriedly throw anything and everything into a shopping basket through the store windows.

Hari was quick to come back and the two sat side by side on the bench. He opened the plastic shopping bag, where onigiri, sandwiches and drinks lay inside. (Y/n) blindly grabbed three or four items, practically inhaling it the same as Kirby would. She ignored Hari's wide eyes and the way he looked so concerned.

"...Have you always eaten this much...?" The genuine concern in his voice didn't make (Y/n) soften. She stared at him long and hard as she stuffed an onigiri into her mouth. Whole. She suddenly paused, holding back a cough as the ruce lodged in her throat and tears welled in her eyes.

"Slow down, the food's not going anywhere."

(Y/n) hacked on the rice, forcing it all down with a swig of (drink). Hari patted her back frantically, brows knit. "Geez, it wouldn't hurt to calm down a little, would it?"

(Y/n) sent him a side-eye and he quickly shut up. Could anyone believe this damned fool? Acting so casually, as if death hadn't been dangerously near an hour ago. "Why don't you shut up." she coldly said, biting into a tamago sandwich. "Seeing as you have nothing worthy to say."

"(Y/n)..."

"Yeah, go apologise while you're at it. Again. As if that would reverse every mistake you and Kai have done." She pulled her legs to her chest, resting an arm on top of her knees. Despite the anger in her molten eyes like lava, the curling of her fingers into fists, she looked so sad. "Just leave while you're at it, won't you? Leave me alone."

But it didn't sound like (Y/n) truly wanted that. The hurt in her eyes shone the same as stars, peeking past the night as not to be forgotten. It cast an icy veil over her face so thin and fragile, fragile enough to break.

There was a pang in Hari's heart that pierced like a knife. He placed a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his own blood. He tried not to stare at (Y/n), but it was hard when her very aura made the air frigid. Had they gone too far? No, that was a stupid thing to ask. 'Too far' had been ages ago, and there was no coming back from that final step.

Hari opened an onigiri, staring at the wrapper with a frown. This wasn't the one he wanted. Had he picked up the wrong one? Either way, it didn't matter. He took a bite and recoiled in utter disgust, lips puckering at the overpowering salty flavour. A purple-red plum stared up at him from the middle of his onigiri and he sighed lowly.

He didn't like plum.

The sun had slowly begun to set, bringing with it only the darkness of night. (Y/n) felt bad she had wasted so much time on nothing, but she was sure Hawks would understand. The situation had become unexpected, and although not so dire she needed help, still just as important. Hari had yet to go home and instead accompanied her on patrol like a lost puppy.

"Can you leave?"

"Not until I know you're with your internship advisor."

(Y/n)'s nose crinkled. "Don't call him my advisor. I don't need his ego exploding." She turned to the old woman who had dropped her bag of groceries and handed it to her. "Here, I hope you get home safely."

The old woman smiled kindly. "Thank you dear, aren't you just the sweetest."

The night would have been peaceful if not for the constant passing of cars and people. It really did seem like the city never slept. (Y/n) paused, eyeing the horizon where smoke quickly began to rise. Her phone went off and she pulled it out, swiping the screen to answer the call.

"Hello?"

"Where have you been?" Despite the calm tone, Hawks sounded rather impatient. "There's been a train crash, and by the looks of it, we found our guy."

"Shigaraki?"

"No, but the nomu are here. No combat, go evacuate the citizens and stay out of trouble, got it?"

(Y/n) felt like a little kid. Hawks was fully aware of her capabilities and sometimes even relied on her strength. Why was he being cautious now if Shigaraki might not even be around?

Hawks sounded like he was holding back a sigh. "(Y/n), there's a lot at stake for you."

"I know," she begrudgingly said, teeth grit. "I understand."

Hawks sighed with relief. "You know the train station? Don't come here, we already evacuated almost everyone and--what--?"

The line ended abruptly and (Y/n) was left in a tense silence. She stared at the glowing screen, lips pressed tight. In the distance, flames rose and scorched the city in ash in smoke, tendrils of red that spread and burned everything in its path. Heroes had already began assessing the scene, trying desperately to put it all out.

"(Y/n)," Hari frantically tapped her arm, "what's that thing over there?"

In the middle of the street, a winged beast howled, where tentacle-like arms shot out and blindly swung at anyone in its way. It looked like almost all the citizens had already fled or been assisted. Not a soul was in sight, save for that ugly, ugly creature and the Pros chasing after it.

(Y/n)'s gaze hardened. "That's a nomu, the thing I fought at USJ designed to match All Might's strength. They will have no chance of defeating it if they don't kill it."

"But they can't, they're heroes and heroes don't do that." Hari said, shaking his head in dismay. "We should head the other way." He began back down the alleyway, but (Y/n)'s eyes remained glued to the scene.

In the farthest reaches of her mind, memories of broken steeets, torn familes, fires lighting up the sky flooded her mind. It was an all-too familiar sight, one that had broken so many people to pieces. There was little support for those who lost so much, because the only solution provided was to move on with life.

"(Y/n), you were told to stay out of the way. And you don't have a hero license, do you want to be arrested?" Hari took her by the wrist, pulling her away from the fire and the flames that burned against her golden eyes. He swallowed hard. If anything happened to (Y/n), his head would be the price to pay, which he was sure to take himself first out of guilt.

(Y/n) wriggled out of Hari's grip. "Don't touch me." Her voice had gone cold, hard as it had when they first met today. "If you're gonna stick around, help me find Shigaraki. He has to be here since he's the only one who could have summoned the nomu."

They were directly under his command and only listened to him. If he were close by, this would be her chance to interrogate and maybe, kill him. Besides, if there was a pact planning to be formed with Kibutsuji, that could only mean trouble. The Demon King never spent his time idly. He had to have planned something.

Leaping from roof to roof wasn't the best way to scout the area, but it was high up enough to have a wide view of the horizon. Hari trailed behind, huffing and puffing as (Y/n) came to a stop. She held onto the railing of a rooftop and stared out into the distance, where the empty city glared back. The flames and smoke had begun to die down, where only the screams of the nomu echoed in the open air.

At the speed of light, a figure appeared from the shadows below, swooping up and opening a pair of razor sharp talons. It closed around (Y/n)'s shoulders, dragging her into the skies as Hari frantically chased after her.

"(Y/N)!" he cried. "I'M COMING!"

It was cute Hari thought he could catch up to the nomu with his scrawny stick legs. Even if he tried with all his might, he wouldn't make it very far. (Y/n) looked up at the thing's head, where blank, beady eyes remained straight into the horizon. She began pulling at its arms, only for its talons to seep into her flesh.

Then, a flash of red shot up from the ground, where tens of feathers pierced the air with a whistle. (Y/n)'s eyed widened as the nomu veered to the left, where feathers bounced off its thick skin as if it were metal.

The sight of Hawks zipping through the air in a flurry if feathers made the nomu cry out in fear. It sensed the danger it was in, the challenge that was the hero. (Y/n) took this as her chance. In a single motion as quick as light, she kicked the nomu between the legs. It was a rather weak thing, and the impact was enough to cause it to falter, wings shuddering in pain as it began its descent. Tens of crimson feathers whistled through the air and pierced the nomu in the eyes as it gave another roar.

Its grip loosened it released (Y/n) to the wind. Her stomach dropped, hair whipping across her face. The ground was near, but the buildings nearer. Not an ounce of fear filled her mind as she shut her eyes tight, waiting for a pair of arms to catch her before the landing.

Warmth. That was the first thing (Y/n) felt as a fur collar tickled her cheeks. She met Hawks's eyes so filled with warmth, so clouded by worry like a storm. "I wonder who's in a pinch today."

"Me." (Y/n) said, with a sheepish chuckle. "Again."

A flash of flames burst into the air and Endeavor let out a shout as the nomu attempted to take flight again. It stumbled, pathetically crawling through the streets like a wounded animal. Hawks safely began his descent, gaze flickering to (Y/n)'s forehead, where flakes of blood stained her skin. "You're not hurt, right?"

"I fell earlier, but I healed myself." Her feet gently touched the ground and she thanked Hawks. "How many of the nomu are there?"

"Three. This should be the last one--"

Out of the corner of (Y/n)'s eye, she caught sight of the creature running around a corner. She broke out into a sprint as Hawks called after her, muttering about waiting and not going after it. The nomu had slipped past Endeavor's watchful eyes and blindly took flight. But it didn't seem so blind with the way it curved past the intersections and deeper into the city, as if searching for something.

Or someone?

A familiar voice filled (Y/n)'s head as she sprinted. Kibutsuji rose from his slumber and it was clear by the look on his face he took no interest in the nomu. He began to slow his pace into a walk, where he eventually stopped to survey the streets. (Y/n) couldn't spare him a moment's thought. She rounded the corner, where a man with a large knife sprung from an alleyway half a street away.

Burns covered his entire body, where slash marks and bruises littered his roughened face. Judging by the blade and the crazed look in his eyes, he was Stain, the Hero Killer. A boy with green hair stumbled to the ground, where the knife lay inches from his neck. Behind him was a boy with glasses whom carried a man on his back, and another with red and white hair. Heroes stood around the premises, but none dared to move.

Did no one see the demonic creature racing toward them? Did no one sense the blood lust filling the air?

(Y/n) wove through the crowds. No hesitations, no emotions. That was what it meant to be the Ice Hashira, one who had become winter.

The nomu opened its razor sharp talons, aiming straight for Midoriya's back as he charged his fists. (Y/n) leapt in a graceful arc. Snow and ice sprang into the air as she landed on the nomu's back, slamming her bare fists into its mushy brain. It thrashed and reared its head, spiraling towards the ground with a loud crack. Something was broken and maybe that something was (Y/n), but she didn't care as she continued to wrestle the nomu, tossing it this way and that until the glare of a knife glimmered in the faint moonlight.

Blood splattered against (Y/n)'s cheeks. She pulled away, strands of hair stringy with sweat. In the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of Kibutsuji, who watched distantly.

Stain crawled off the nomu, dragging his blade along his tongue as he swallowed the blood with a heave. The burns inflicted over his battered body didn't stop him from making his way towards (Y/n). She sensed his fading strength, felt the unevenness of his heart. This man wouldn't be able to fight her even if he wanted to.

"Hero Killer: Stain, was it?" Ice coated (Y/n)'s voice like a blanket and the temperature dropped enough to shiver. "I'm not looking for a fight."

The only thing keeping Stain on his wobbly feet was adrenaline. He let his hands fall to his sides, the blade still clutched tightly in one hand. "A true hero," there was a glimmer in his crazed, bloodshot eyes, "was what I wanted to think until I saw you. You're powered only by your own hatred and revenge."

A laugh escaped his lips, where saliva trailed down his scarred and bleeding skin. "Having qualities to be a hero isn't enough if you don't think like one. You're better off a villain, just like he said!" His eyes widened and the crazed grin on his face widened. The air thickened, where the stench of death threatened to choke those weak enough to wave. "This sham of a society and those who wield their power for petty mischief are all targets of my purge!"

Stain lifted a crooked, blood finger. "And so are you, Chisaki (Y/n)."

She did not falter like the heroes stumbled behind her. Frost curled at the ground beneath her feet, rising to the heels of her shoes as she tilted her head to the side, raising a brow. "Who do you think you are?" One look into (Y/n)'s eyes that burned golden like the sun made Stain weak in the knees. His eyes widened, hand threatening to tremble. "Heroes? Villains? Labels mean nothing. As long as I finish off the greatest evil in this world, then I will forever be satiated. You mentioned someone, a 'he'. Shigaraki, perhaps?"

Stain felt stupid. Why did he believe that idiot, Shigaraki? This girl wasn't normal, and he was a fool to believe otherwise. The air was dry and cold, too thin for him to breathe. But it could have been because he lost too much blood. A sense of panic rose into his chest and for a moment, it seemed as if Chisaki's eyes had morphed to red. Fangs grew from her sneer, her skin became pale as moonlight, and what he saw could only be the face of a demon.

A monster.

For the first time in a long, long time, Stain felt true fear. "You've killed before. Who are you?"

(Y/n)'s eyes widened as she raced forward, yanking Stain's vest in her fists as he stared straight into her eyes, searching. "What do you know?" she stated. "How much do you know?"

Stain was too weak to pry off (Y/n)'s grip. "I only heard about you. Shigaraki had all the information."

"Where is he?"

"Hosu."

(Y/n) released Stain as if she had been burned. He watched with great interest as she surveyed the rooftops, eyes blindly sweeping every inch of the streets. And it was funny to see someone Stain had feared only half a minute ago become so frantic and frustrated. All he had done was say one thing--you've killed before.

"You're not gonna find him, he has the man with the warp quirk," Stain said. "Why are you after him?"

"Why are you after heroes?"

Stain made a face. There was a bitter taste in his mouth--blood. "All I want is to clease society of fake heroes. The only true one who can kill me is All Might."

(Y/n) heaved out a breath, gaze hard. "Shigaraki is the source of all evil that is to come. I have to stop him and his sensei if I want to cut it off at the source. But what would you know? You work for him."

"I tried to kill him but spared his life."

(Y/n) yanked Stain up by the collar. She would have put him in his place this instant if there weren't so many heroes watching. "You should have finished the job. It's just your luck you're going to jail today."

Suddenly, a laugh escaped Stain's lips, that crazy look in his eyes overshadowing all sense of reason. The numbness in his knees didn't stop him from standing on his own two feet. "You and I are the same."

(Y/n)'s heart pounded. "No, we're not."

"You, just like me, have a strong conviction to carry until our dying breath. Cleanse society of all evil, Chisaki (Y/n). I'll be watching from the cell you put me in." He let out a laugh and it was cruel. Humourless. It suddenly stopped and his eyes rolled into his head as the knife clattered to the ground with his unconscious body.

Sirens wailed, heroes gathered around his body to rush to a hospital, but she remained still, frozen in time. There was nothing left to lose when she had already laid herself bare boned. What held her together was the frost coating her heart, the ice filling the cracks.

"(Y/n)!" Hari stumbled through the crowd of heroes holding him back, pleading with him to find somewhere safer. "I was looking everywhere!" Sweat dribbled down his flushed face, only adding to what already soaked through his button up. He fell over his knees, heaving and heaving as he placed a hand to (Y/n)'s shoulder. The sight of blood staining her skin red made his stomach drop. "Are you okay?"

A cold pang filled (Y/n)'s chest and she looked at him as only a void of emptiness. Memories from the day in Yushiro's front lawn filtered into her memory. The strength in which Hari embraced her, the shattered cries ripping through her throat. Her lip twitched. "Why are you still here?"

Hari's heart ached and all he could see was the image of (Y/n) on her knees as he turned his back to her. "You were taken by one of those things! I wasn't gong to leave you."

But he did all those days ago. It didn't matter how much time had passed, that wound still lay beneath her skin, an ugly scar in her mind. "You chose my brother over everything."

"(Y/n)--"

"Go home." She shoved him off and pushed him away. "All that talk, only for you to chase me like a lost puppy. Are you just gonna regurgitate words Kai told you to say? Leave. I feel sick seeing you here."

Hari swallowed hard. "If it's worth anything, I've been keeping my promise."

"You asked me to look after Kai anyway. I promise to fulfill that as your best friend."

(Y/n) shut her eyes, head hung. No more, she couldn't bear to hear another word when it was so much easier to hate with every fibre of her being.

Hari turned on his feet and began down the empty streets. There was no point in staying, it would only aggravate every wound inflicted upon (Y/n)'s delicate mind. She wasn't just angry at him. Every word, every sneer was directed at Kai, too, for making the final decision. And oh, if he were here, things would have been so much uglier.

The world had gone quiet once Hari was out of view. (Y/n) made her way over to her classmates, that cold, angry look on her face never once melting. "Come here."

She must have looked frightening because all three of the boys jolted, hearts leaping out of their chests. They were shell-shocked from Stain's final display before submitting to his wounds, all weak in the knees and clammy in fright. (Y/n) tried to soften her expression. "You all must be exhausted."

Iida swallowed hard, steeling his nerves and willing his courage not to fade. "Chisaki, I-I apologize, we've caused you trouble. If it weren't for me, none of this would have..."

"It's fine, you're all injured quite badly." With the blood seeping from his shoulder and the knife holes puncturing through his armor, it was only time before he passed out from blood loss. "This may hurt a little." (Y/n) tapped his shoulder and he winced as every piece reassembled into its original form. She fixed Midoriya and Todoroki next, who thanked her.

"What are you three doing here anyway? With Stain of all people?" She made her way into the alleyway, where another hero lay injured. With a single touch, he had been repaired near instantly. "Never mind that, we have more pressing matters at hand. I'm just glad I made it in time."

As she reemerged into the street, Midoriya's gaze seared into her skin. She sensed his concern, his quiet fear. "Th-thank you for saving me. That was really brave, especially when Stain could have hurt you really badly." He paused, trying for a smile. It leaked with nerves. "I had no idea you were interning in the area."

"It was coincidence, just as how you three ended up here despite being in different internships." (Y/n) released a long sigh and it was as if she aged a hundred years. "I would ask what happened, but I have a feeling the heroes are going to do plenty of that."

"Chisaki!" Tokoyami's voice echoed through the street as he came to a stop, heaving. "I heard one of those things got you! You're not hurt, are you?"

(Y/n) rubbed at the dried blood splattered across her face. Ah, maybe that was why her classmates looked so frightened. "I'm alright. Are you? I haven't seen you all day."

Tokoyami's brows furrowed and suddenly he looked quite small, like a child talking to their parent. "'I understand you can take care of yourself, and Hawks does too, but I was concerned for your safety when those creatures appeared out of nowhere. I had no idea where you were and all I could do was evacuate anyone I could."

Guilt made (Y/n)'s heart pang. Her expression softened and she placed a hand to Tokoyami's shoulder. For a moment, she saw Tanjiro, Zenitsu, Kanao, and Inosuke. They had looked at her with that same expression even when she told them not to worry. But they had when they saw her leap head-first into danger without a second thought.

"That's very kind of you, Tokoyami." She smiled earnestly, embers faintly lighting in her eyes. "I was scouting the area and got caught up in more than I expected. Everything is well. You have nothing to worry about."

With the confidence radiating in (Y/n)'s aura and the firm hand against his shoulder, Tokoyami relaxed, nodding in understanding. "I'm glad to hear. Since we're both interning together I just thought we should look out for each other."

(Y/n)'s lips rose into a small smile. She always had a soft spot for her juniors as a Hashira. "I like your spirit."

As the other pros filtered out of the area and the three boys were scolded by their intern advisors, the sound of flapping wings cut through the air. Hawks landed and placed a hand to his hip, that same casual smile on his lips. "That's where you two were, glad to see you're both safe. No combat, correct?"

"Well, not quite combat, but..." (Y/n) averted her gaze to the side, every ounce of steadiness melting from her body. "Yeah, we're safe." But every ounce of her being didn't feel it. Kibutsuji stood behind her shoulder, muttering about the uselessness of all that talk and how it made him want to gag. She may have elbowed him and he may have bared his teeth at her, but it didn't matter.

What did Stain know about her?

BONUS

Akaza awoke with a start, a small yelp running past his lips as he jolted upright, eyes wide and wild. Morning rays beamed through his window as he rubbed at his forehead, where sweat formed in little droplets. He heaved, clutching at his chest that beat so erratically. Even in sleep, he was never spared from the horrors of what were soon to come.

After finals, summer break would start, and as first years, that would mean the summer training camp. The very place (Y/n) was supoosedly going to be kidnapped from.

Akaza's eyes glowed eerily in the sunlight. He stood slowly, brows knit tight. Yushiro had said he was workimg on some new concoction that would rurn him human, but there was no telling how long it would take for it to finish. The past couple weeks, he had visited in secret to assist Yushiro as a test subject, but to little avail.

Muzan's cells had somehow mutated. Maybe it was a result of finding a new vessel, maybe it was the result of being in a new time. Whatever it was he needed to figure out whag to do. Fast. Muzan's threat hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder as to whom Akaza's loyalties had to lie to. But he was better than that. He defied the Demon King many times and he'd do it again.

All for (Y/n). Always for (Y/n).

There was a frantic knock that could only be Koyuki. "Haku-nii! Hurry up! Aren't you coming down for breakfast, you sleepy head?" Before he could reply, her footsteps had disappeared, signaling she ran back downstairs for pancakes. It wasn't too often Otou-san ever made them. It wasn't the most healthy, and as an owner of his own dojo, he liked to have a light breakfast over something more hearty.

Whatever. Soon, Hakuji had a feeling he wouldn't be able to stomach anything. It was by pure luck he retained his human characteristics, but a part of him wondered if it was because Kibutsuji lacked full control of (Y/n)'s body. She was still a vessel, and him, a voice in her mind. It had best stay that way, he thought to himself. Or else all hell would break lose and he'd do things he'd regret.

The IKEA mirror tacked to the corner of his wall only reflected his worries, his fears. There was a flash of orange in his eyes, the same colour as persimmons. It quickly flickered back to blue and Hakuji tore his gaze away hastily. He quickly changed and went to brush his teeth, a hand wrapped around his phone.

Should he call (Y/n)? Oh, but what if she was busy? His finger hovered over the call button and he hesitated, brows knitting. It was probably better he stay away from (Y/n) until he figured out what to do. But avoidance was difficult when the heart overflowed with longing. Hakuji sighed and set his toothbrush down, tapping the call button.

No, no, what was he thinking?!

"Hakuji?" It was nice hearing her call him by his real name in that sleepy voice. "I was just about to wake up. I missed you."

A gentle smile rose to Hakuji's lips and his eyes softened like butter. "I missed you too. I heard about what happened in Hosu. Are you doing alright?"

"Hari followed me." (Y/n) sounded like she had sat up in bed. "He refused to leave me alone so I told him off. That absolute fool. Then Stain said some things and, well, here I am. I'm alright though, I'm just glad to hear your voice. Have you been helping your father around the dojo?"

A snort escaped Hakuji's lips, but all he felt inside was warmth. "Some of the students brought cupcakes for everyone since it was someone's birthday. I got a goodie bag too." He laughed and nothing but light shone on his face. "They're all wonderful, I enjoy teaching them."

A smile rose to (Y/n)'s lips and she relaxed into bed. With the sun filtering through her window and the gentle voice of Hakuji filling her ears, she couldn't have felt more at peace. More serene. "I'm glad. You truly do make a wonderful teacher. Well, save for the times you went too hard on me..."

"Is that so?" The smile on Hakuji's lips turned smug. "To be fair, you were my first student. But I was never overly cruel and look how wonderfully you turned out."

(Y/n)'s smile rose into a grin, face growing warm. "That's true. Am I your favourite?"

"Of course." Hakuji laughed and it was like a summer breeze. "No one can beat you in that regard, (Y/n). You will always be my number one."

"Aw, you make me blush." (Y/n) leapt out of bed and pulled on her hero uniform. "I miss you very much. It's rare we see each other unless at school."

Hakuji swallowed and a wave of guilt hit him like a hurricane. The sun hid behind a cloud, casting the bathroom in grey. "I know, but that will change soon, alright? Over the summer I'm sure we'll have plenty of time once this is all over. Why don't we stop by the dojo sometime? I can drive us."

It was as if thousands of butterflies had spread their wings and taken flight into the brightest of skies. (Y/n) placed a hand to her face warm with heat. "R-really? You can drive us?" She couldn't hide the child-like wonder slipping into her words. Oh, what a wonderful thing modern technology was. "I'd love to go!"

Hakuji's laugh was so sweet. "Then I'll take you sometime soon. I have to go now, I love you."

(Y/n) smiled gently and it was as if yesterday hadn't even happened. "I love you too."

The line ended and Hakuji set the phone down in a tense silence. He kept his gaze low to avoid the mirror as he brushed his teeth and washed his face. Every time he looked into his own reflection, it was only a reminder of what he had done in his past life. That burden alone was enough to carry, he didn't need any more.

Otou-san and Koyuki had both already finished eating by the time Hakuji sat down. He was oddly groggy for someone who didn't need sleep, and that only made him frustrated.

"Woah, what's up with you?" Otou-san set a washed plate into the drying rack, brow raised. "Something happen with that girl you were talking to?"

Red threatened to make Hakuji's face flush. He choked on his food, coughing. "W-what?" Koyuki had the nerve to look innocent as she rested her chin in a hand. "She goes to your school, right? What grade is she in?"

"Uh, she's a..." Hakuji frowned to himself. This was going to come out so wrong and he knew it. "...first year..." Otou-san leaned against the countertops, raising a brow. "She's a what?"

"A, uh, first year--"

"What?!"

"You're a predator?!"

Hakuji's jaw dropped. "I'm not a predator, are you crazy?!" His face had to be beet red because it was suddenly very, very warm. Back then, it wasn't a big deal. He was physically seventeen or eighteen and chronologically about three hundred. Either way, it wasn't like he fell in love with (Y/n) when she was a child. It was afterwards when they had been separated and finally reunited that he began to grow feelings.

How could he not when she had grown so gracefully? So strong? The sight of her that night when he stumbled upon her estate had filled him with such joy, such pride in whom she had become. And besides, it wasn't as if his feelings weren't returned! They fell in love with each other.

Hakuji stabbed a fork into his food indignantly, huffing. "She should be almost sixteen, I think. I won't be eighteen until next year, so no, I'm not a predator, Koyuki."

She completely disregarded that fact. "You don't know her birthday, Haku-nii? Oh my gosh, what kind of boyfriend are you?"

Okay now she was just trying to annoy him. He sent her a stare, to which she smiled innocently. "I do know her birthday, for your information."

That was a lie and everyone could tell by the frustration blooming onto his face. Hakuji remembered giving (stealing) gifts for (Y/n), such as the hair clip she always wore to this day. Birthdays weren't something anyone really had time to think about when death was so prevalent. What mattered most was how time was spent with each other until their last dying breaths.

Until his last, dying breath.

Images of the Infinity Castle and his death filtered into his mind, only to be broken by Koyuki and Otou-san howling and shouting about how empty-headed Hakuji was despite being so street smart.

"He's lying, he doesn't know his own girlfriend's birthday," Otou-san muttered into his hands. "Where did I go wrong in raising my own son?"

Hakuji felt his eye twitch.

"And you've been with her for how long?" said Koyuki. "Why wouldn't you know her birthday? I feel so bad for her, we should all apologise to your girlfriend."

"Uh, no you're not." Hakuji quickly said, letting out a breath in disbelief. "We're both fine with how things are, thank you very much." But he still had to pause. How many years had it been since they had been together? It was never officially announced by either of them, but the unsaid became clear with how far they would go for each other.

Hakuji never wanted to count the years considering (Y/n)'s lifespan ended around twenty-five (if she were lucky). He ignored the pang in his chest, the heaviness on his shoulders, and frowned. "I think it's been about two years since we've been together. I'm not sure, it passed really fast."

Because he had been a demon for most, if not all of it.

Otou-san looked about ready to pass on to the next life. He placed a hand to his forehead dramatically, laying against the countertop as if it were a sofa. "All these years, and I never knew? You've found your first love so young, I can tell. You have that look in your eyes."

On the contrary, Koyuki was rather grumpy with this new revelation. Her brows knit and she looked Hakuji up and down with a pout. "I respect your privacy, but you should have at least told me! I'm your sister!"

It was precisely that fact that Hakuji didn't want to tell her a thing. He rolled his eyes and finished the last of his breakfast. "Yeah, yeah. You shouldn't be talking when you're all buddy buddy with Senjuro."

Red spread across Koyuki's face and she gasped. "W-what! Says who? We're just friends! Just friends!"

Just friends? Hearing that made Hakuji feel bad for the younger Rengoku. Senjuro was absolutely infatuated with Koyuki, and she with him. Why could neither admit it out loud when they were so obviously lovey-dovey? Hakuji shook his head and set his dishes in the sink. The sound of running water snapped Otou-san out of his stupor.

"Wait, wait, if she's a first year, how did you meet?"

Hakuji froze, soap bubbling from the sponge in hand. "U-uh...we met when...I was hiking with Kyojurou." At the sound of 'woahhhh' and 'oooo', he let out a breath of relief and turned off the sink, setting the dishes out to dry. "Yeah, it was snowing that day and (Y/n) got lost when we happened to find her after following a rabbit. She was looking for her father."

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Hakuji had no idea he was such a great liar! He was used to talking his head off with Kyojurou, not lying through his teeth like some slime ball (Douma). But it was a good thing Otou-san and Koyuki were both one-track minded or else they would have asked more questions. Like father, like daughter, huh?

"Aw, that's sweet." Koyuki's soft smile brightened. "So her name's (Y/n)!"

Hakuji let out a long, long sigh. "No more questions! I'm leaving, bye! Thanks for breakfast!"

A chuckle escaped Otou-san's lips and he began to laugh heartily. Ah, how refreshing the youth was. He couldn't recall the last time he saw Hakuji so embarrassed and expressive. He was usually rather stoic unless he got bashful, save for when he was with Kyojurou. Those two were always a force to be reckoned with.

Well, when the time was right, maybe Hakuji would one day bring his special girl home.

Modern Era Secrets!

-Stain and Shigaraki had been kinda sorta gossiping about you before they were warped to Hosu with the nomu!
-Stain still thinks you're a monster, even if it's in the name of justice. For that reason, he wonders if you two are at least a little similar since you both kinda "purge" evil in you're own way
-Michikatsu is getting fed up with his job. He can't believe he's in the Corps again despite the fact he used to be Upper Moon One
-That was a tactical strategy on Oyakata-sama's part. No one is okay with Michikatsu being in the Corps, but it was a last resort. It's either he join them or join Muzan again
-Kyojurou, Hakuji, and (Y/n) are seen together in the halls after school often. They are known as the Mystery Three by students because they don't know how any of them became friends
-Kai chewed Hari out the moment he stepped back into the house
-Hari once thought Kai was someone he always wanted to stay beside, but he questions who would do that for (Y/n) if not him. He had to choose and it was Kai.

My spotify playlist for this story (this one is called You Fell In Love).

Please, if you can, support me on Ko-fi, it would be great!

Chapter Text

A blade pointed to his neck was not what Shigaraki Tomura expected on this grand evening. First of all, what did he do? Not that unleashing some terrors on Hosu was enough to warrant a strong reaction. Besides! No one else knew he was here besides Stain and Kurogiri. The two had then warped out of the city to avoid the Pros and police searching for them.

So how in the world did this random guy with a sword find him? Shigraki grimaced, lips curling into a faint frown as his hands twitched. He was not about to let some wannabe samurai ruin his night. All that work today had been a sight to behold.

Until he locked eyes with the tall, brooding man with a katana. Shigaraki hated to admit it, but if not for Kurogiri, his neck would have already been severed. The blade now lay lodged in the ground, centimeters from the man's feet. He looked rather disappointed at that.

"So it was you who did this," the man said. "You brought out those creatures. What is your goal?"

Shigaraki wasn't in the mood for small talk. He grimaced, gaze flickering to the gleaming blade uneasily. "What's wrong with watching the world burn? You got a problem with that?"

The man was hard to read with his stoic poker face, and it made Shigaraki's neck itch. "I want to join your League of Villains. I have a thirst for killing, and it so happens your organization meets my standards for that exactly."

Shigaraki was puzzled. He heaved to himself, frowning and gritting his teeth. "You're a freak," he grumbled. "You tried to kill me and now want to join my organization?"

"Who said I wanted to kill you?" The man ripped his blade from the ground and held up a dead rat. It dangled lifelessly, blood dripping against the concrete. He gave it a flick and the body fell to the ground with a splat! "Don't be so full of yourself. Not everyone cares enough to go out for your head."

Slowly, a frown pulled at Shigaraki's lips. He didn't quite believe the man, but since he was still alive, he didn't really care. Still, if he had a dime for every time he nearly got impaled by a katana today, it would be two. Which wasn't a lot, but still weird it happened twice. But if anything did happen, one touch would disintegrate the mysterious man near instantly. "What's your name?"

The man bowed respectfully; Shigaraki liked that. "Tsugikuni Michikatsu. Allow me to lend you my strength."

Hm, so this man, very stuffy and quiet wanted to join the League? He had a sword like some badass side character in a game, and by the looks of it could be both stealthy and quick-witted. When this 'Tsugikuni' man swung his sword, it was faster than Shigaraki could blink. Did this guy need more screen time as a main villain?

Shigaraki pursed his lips together in thought. "Fine. You can join, but you better not overstep. I hate when people get in my way."

Tsugikuni bowed, "Understood."

Maybe this was the start of a new puzzle, one where all the pieces fit. It seemed this organization needed more people anyway. Was it time to go Pokemon hunting?

Chrono was no fool.

Of course, Overhaul knew because they grew up together, side by side for as long as he could remember. In his early days, Chrono taught him the ropes and what it meant to be an honourable yakuza. Or, well, as honourable as the Yakuza could be. Yet every now and then, Chrono slipped up bit by bit, and Overhaul had to question whether the man was born a clutz or an idiot.

"So that's why you took the whole day in Hosu?" Overhaul's voice wasn't stern, nor was it angry, and the exhaustion seeping into his voice only made it grate against Chrono's ears like nails to a chalkboard. He stood in front of the desk, head hung guiltily as he stared at the floor. "Well, we ran into trouble. Douma ambushed us and I couldn't just leave (Y/n) by herself. She fell and got a concussion, I had to make sure she got out of there okay."

Overhual pinched the bridge of his nose, heaving out a sigh. He hated nights like this, the ones that dragged on far too long for his liking. It became a frequent occurance as of late, such as when he first met that creep Douma. Out of pure anger, he overhauled the guy, only to bring him back as a warning (he was beginning to regret that). "She can take care of herself. Did you find who was destryoing my property?"

"Tetsuya and the other members that are still loyal to the original ways of the Hassaikai. They're too rebellious." Chrono paused, frowning, only to shake his head.

Overhaul's gaze narrowed. "Just say it. I know (Y/n) had to be involved. She wasn't supposed to be in Hosu to begin with."

Chrono looked up at the ceiling and begged (Y/n) for his forgiveness. He let out a sigh, "She came to Hosu specifically for them."

"Tetsuya's group?"

Chrono nodded and Overhaul looked like he aged ten years.

Over and over and over again, (Y/n) appeared as a thorn in Overhaul's side, a constant reminder that she would always be beside him even in spirit. The two were bonded by blood, it was impossible to get rid of one another. His lips pressed thin under his mask and he shut his eyes with a sigh. "She was on her internship with Hawks, but I'm assuming she left him and wandered off."

"Yes." Chrono said. "She refused to go back and instead wanted to look for Shigaraki even though she wasn't supposed to."

There was a beat of silence as Overhaul's thoughts began to swim. He thought of paying his sister a very, very unwcome visit, but decided against it to avoid the trouble of Yushiro's wrath. He instead motioned to a stack of papers. "That can't be our focus. While you were goofing off with hooligans, I managed to make more progress regarding our projects. I've finished the prototype for the bullet and have begun the first trial samples for the serum. These reports are for the second project."

Chrono picked up a packet in the stack and scanned over its contents. Quirk factors, DNA, cell division, etc, etc... He paused on the second page, frowning. This wasn't about Eri's quirk, nor did it contain any information about Rewind. Each section was written in clear detail about Overhaul and its effects on targeting DNA and certain 'K cells'.

It was stated that mutations were causing cells to undergo division at a rapidly fixed rate, which in turn created somatic cells--skin cells, hair, nails. Everything grew at a rapid rate, which meant...

"(Y/n) has regeneration now." Chrono flipped to the next page, scanning it with wide eyes. The notes continued about the comparison of blood between (Y/n) and Overhaul, the mutations, and sequences. "It doesn't sound very possible to separate them, it's like they're atomically bound. I know the demon slayers had some anti-Kibutsuji medicine in their final battle or whatever, but if it still worked, they would have already used it. You don't happem to know any magic tricks, do you?"

"Do I look like a magician?" There was a troubled look on Overhaul's face, an ill-fated sign. He wasn't a genius, but it also wasn't often he found himself confused and so, so frustrated. "Kibutsuji's blood turns anyone into a demon, but none of the legends mentioned how he was defeated. I wouldn't say they're atomically bound if he can separate himself from someone. (Y/n) said the serum aged him rapidly, but if that were done now, it would only pose an opportunity to find another host or effect (Y/n) in the process."

"Like a parasite. So there's no solution." Chrono flipped through the rest of the packet. "So what, are you going to overhaul every piece of Kibutsuji out of (Y/n)'s body?"

"That's not how it works. I can't do a surgical procedure of that detail with my quirk. Overhaul reassembles things in its perfect form, so assuming (Y/n)'s perfect form is herself, it could work." With the drug business in the black market and his sister constantly ruining his plans, every step he took felt like five back.

What was more, those creatures, the nomu, irked Overhaul. He couldn't be too sure about what they were, but a part of him had a feeling he should. In the back of his mind, a boy with snow white hair and electric blue eyes flashed in his head. He thought of the doctor so deeply invested in quirks--his quirk--and how eerie the orphanage had been.

That wasn't important. Even if it was a hint, not enough information presented itself to draw a conclusion.

Overhaul stood and made his way to the door. "We're going to the lab."

Sterile instruments and fluorescent overhead lights made the white room harsh to look at. It was spotless, save for the bunched papers on one of the lab benches. With only two minds working on these projects, progress was inevitably a drag.

"Take a look at the microscope." Overhaul made his way to the other side of the room and gathered a set of materials. He pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and began. "Kibutsuji's not 'atomically' bound because (Y/n)'s DNA hasn't been altered. We were wrong about hypothesizing that. Therefore, it's treatable and we can create a serum that will attack the DNA fused with (Y/n)'s cells."

"So...a vaccine."

"Exactly. The only issue is how quickly the cells mutate. Every time I'm close to a breakthrough the sequence changes."

The face of his sister filtered into his mind, a small beam of sunshine in nothing but inky black. He faltered, for a moment, swallowing. There were no takebacks or second chances. What had been done was done, and all he could do was was instead save her life as a final act of repetance. To think a single missused quirk caused this suffering. How evil was that? How vile? To think such powers were bestowed upon unworthy people, what if someone simply...

...took it away...?

Overhaul rubbed his thumb over his knuckles, clenching his fist. (Y/n) would never understand. She was too naive to understand the genius of his life's work.

"I'm surprised you didn't use Rewind for this," Chrono suddenly said, frowning. "But (Y/n) would probably kill herself if you did that."

"Which is why I didn't." Kai quickly said. The thought made his hands go clammy and his stomach churn. The thought of being the cause for his sister's death shook him to the core, and that fact alone was enough to scare him. He didn't like that feeling, not one bit.

Chrono might have been looked at him, or maybe he wasn't. Regardless, Overhaul ignored it and jotted something down in his notebook. His furrowed brow only seemed to deepen the more he worked.

And the clock kept ticking against him.

"Overhaul."

His thoughts broke and he looked up questioningly.

"Did you consider Kibutsuji has a quirk factor?"

Impossible. How in the world could the Demon King be in possession of something that hadn't existed before his time? No one had quirks, much less any sort of supernatural prowess besides demons.

Demons...

Overhaul had a hunch.

Yushiro hated coming to this place. Day in and day out he wasted away in the lab beside the famous Kochou Shinobu. The Hashira didn't strike many people as unapproachable, but Yushiro disagreed. The passive aggressive smile on her face the first time they met made him reel away (in fear). And every time he showed up to the lab again and again, her (fake) sunny disposition never changed once.

Until today. Should Yushiro run for his life? Maybe.

"How is (Y/n)?"

The question caught Yushiro off guard. Besides the occasional comments on procedures, blood samples, and other forms of work, Kochou never engaged in meaningless conversation. She was rather uptight for someone with such a gentle, airy voice.

"I saw the live stream of the Festival," she added. "How is she?" The concern leaking onto Kochou's face made Yushiro's shoulders slump. He frowned to himself, brows knit as he fiddled with a micropipette.

"Somewhat good, I think. Or rather, she doesn't want to admit she's unwell. Whatever that Rengoku taught her, it stuck because I was convinced she would give up."

A huff escaped Kochou's lips and she shook her head. "I can't say I'm surprised. The student is always a reflection of their master, even if formerly." She adjusted the focus on her microscope, eyeing the slide carefully. "I suppose the question I should be asking is rather, what is she up to? (Y/n) isn't the academic type, but is she at least enjoying U.A.?"

Yushiro pressed his lips together. He thought of the times (Y/n) would come home, a tired smile on her face. She would flop down at the dinner table, rubbing her head as she spoke about Mina, Kirishima, and her most hated classmate, Bakugou. Socialization with people her age had done some good, even if it didn't always quite go well.

"(Y/n) has friends, from what I'm aware, as well as a class rival. Although she dislikes school, I can tell she finds her classmates amusing...some days." Yushiro frowned and sucked his teeth. "Not that she'd admit that. It's hard to get anything out of her lately. She doesn't want to talk."

Which was odd considering (Y/n) told Yushiro nearly everything. He didn't care for petty drama, but for some reason, (Y/n) seemed to know a lot about what went on around school, even when she frankly didn't care. The first instance was with Todoroki, who apparently was abused by his father, the number two hero. Then Midoriya, who was rumoured to be All Might's secret love child.

Besides that, Akaza (Hakuji or whatever he went by these days) didn't appear in the conversation very much. Yushiro wasn't nosy, but he had to wonder if that idiot had started distancing himself in fear of losing control. That would only be a fool's errand. Such fears were inevitable and bound to consume the overthinkers.

It seemed Akaza had too much time on his hands if he was that concerned. No matter, the boy should be smart enough if he had been able to sneak (Y/n) visits on her front lawn in the Taisho Era (multiple times).

"(Y/n) needs to be more self-aware," Yushiro grumbled, mostly to himself. "There's no point in lying how she feels if it's going to be a burden. Still, I do believe making friends has changed her at least a little. I can't say she looks happier, but she seems less troubled sometimes."

Kochou paused, setting down her tools. There was nothing short of pride on this demon's face like that of a father. It was odd to think this blood-thirsty monster could do such a thing. After all, demons killed unrelentlessly. Indiscriminately. Yet Yushiro's eyes softened, the knitting of his brows eased, and a small smile pulled on his lips. Warmth spread across his face and he shook his head.

"I'm just glad she's alive."

Kochou's eyes widened. Her mind wandered to Tamayo, the other demon she had worked with in the past. Yes, not all demons apparently became bloodthirsty monsters, but it didn't take from the fact that they were, well, demons. And Yushiro, who was turned into a demon by Tamayo, hadn't killed a single person.

There was a twisting in Kochou's gut and she quickly turned back to her work.

The experiment lasted over six hours. Yushiro lost count, instead relying only on the rising moon as an indicator of when his time was up. There was an itching in the back of his mind, a tingle that pierced like needles. He couldn't understand where this was coming from. Why did he feel a chill? A sense of danger?

The Butterfly Mansion was in a discrete location miles and miles from civilization. Afrer all these years, it miraculously remained a hidden relic frozen in time. To think no one discovered it could only mean it was still, well, hidden.

Kochou offered a spare room to Yushiro, but he declined, much to her admiration. His reasoning was the need to see (Y/n) and make sure she was still doing okay.

"Be safe on your way back," Kochou said. "We've gotten reports on sightings of three former Upper Moons. It would be dangerous if they got their hands on (Y/n)'s blood."

"I understand."

Yushiro bid Kochou a goodbye and thank you. He began back the way he came, through thick brush and down a rocky pathway. A snall meow caught his ears and he spotted Chachamaru, who rubbed against his legs with a purr. A small smile tugged on Yushiro's lips and he leaned down to give him a scratch before continuing down the path. It eventually led to a river, which he followed downstream until he came across a road. He continued on foot for a couple hours as it was the safest option to avoid attention. Cars may be faster, but were loud and indiscrete.

Home eventually came into view, a little house hidden with his blood demon art. He stepped inside, being careful not to let the door creak. Once he made his way upstairs, he peeked into (Y/n)'s room to make sure she was still there. She tossed and turned in her sleep, muttering incoherently as the blanket slipped to the floor and she began to shiver

Chachamaru pattered into the room without a second thought and leapt into (Y/n)'s arms. Yushiro frowned to himself and followed, pulling the blankets back over her before closing the door and leaving it open just a crack. He prayed tonight's fight were easier for her sake.

Modern Era Secrets!

-Kyojurou went to visit you after your internship for ramen. He said he missed you.
-Then he led you to an arcade. It was very overwhelming with all the flashy lights, but you won a plushie that now sits on your bed! How exciting.
-It also so happened you saw his father out in the wild. Rengoku-san must have had his memories, or else he wouldn't have spoken so nicely to you in an apologetic tone. He also bought you lots of shrimp tempura--was it his way to apologise?!
-Yushiro was sceptical of the shrimp tempura but cooked it anyway for dinner. He holds a grudge against Rengoku-san because of the stories he would hear from you in the past.
-Hakuji was a little jealous he didn't have the chance to tag along with you and Kyojurou.
-Koyuki and Senjuro like to study together at the library! It's more often you see them together than not. They're practically attached together at the hip!
-Sanemi has been employed at the police station and sometimes brings Genya along with him as an 'intern'. The two are used as a ways to keep track of any movements by their enemies.
-Himejima is really chill and works as an assistant school teacher at the moment. He trains other slayers on his off days and they all adore him even when he is a tough teacher!
-Michikatsu hates being around Shigaraki. It's too bad he's stuck with the growing forces of the League until further notice!
-Muichiro doesn't do anything in particular. He hangs out around Mitsuri and Obanai's bakery every now and then. Sometimes he sleeps over and wanders the streets. He asks to see (Y/n), but whenever Mitsuri takes him to find her after school, she's never there!
-Locals are scared of Muichiro. They think he's a ghost because he comes out at night a lot. He is becoming an urban legend!

Chapter Text

Moonlight poured from the skies overhead, illuminating the glow of a nichirin. In a flash of flames so intense like the sun, the boulder shattered in half, only to crumble into rubble. To the untrained eye, it was none at all, but to a demon slayer, it was clear.

(Y/n) stood among the rubble, where dawn slowly rose across the horizon, painting the darkness in oranges and pinks. She heaved out a breath, wiping the sweat from her forehead. In another arc of ice and snow, the nearby brush, the trees, and fences all clammored to the ground in a pile of woodchips.

A breath escaped (Y/n)'s lips and she keeled over her knees, heaving, heaving still. Kibutsuji's presence had begun slipping from her mind, becoming nothing more than a mere image. She wondered what he had in store, what steps were next in this dance of death.

Memories from the other day flooded (Y/n)'s mind. She thought of Hawks's voice, the concern lacing it.

---

Even with the flourescent lights overhead, the hallway was dark and damp. (Y/n) spared a glance out the window, arms crossed.

"Stain must have spoken with Shigaraki." She stood with her back pressed against the wall, huddled in a little corner of the lobby beside Hawks. His brows were furrowed, face taunt.

"We hadn't gotten reports of any sightings," he said. "But it all makes sense. Nothing was a coincidence to begin with."

(Y/n)'s hands curled into fists and she dug her nails into her skin with a grit of her teeth. "Before he passed out, Stain told me to cleanse society of all evil. And for a moment, he looked scared of me."

Because even to the most blissfully ignorant, Kibutsuji's aura was like sensing any other person where it oozed from (Y/n)'s very pores, a dark miasma of pure death.

​​​​​"Stain wasn't in his right mind." Hawks consoled. "And besides, as novice as Shigaraki is, I doubt he would've revealed anything important."

Which was true, but didn't make (Y/n) feel any less hatred towards the demon buried so deep in her flesh. She chewed at her bottom lip, fiddled with the edge of her haori. "Besides Stain and his rise to fame, I saw Kibutsuji."

Hawks's feathers ruffled.

"He followed me once night had come and did nothing but stare. He must have been waiting for someone." She paused. "Shigaraki, perhaps. And if not him, his master. Something is going to happen soon, and when it does, I have to be ready." With a push off the wall, she began towards the elevator, only for Hawks to catch her wrist.

"(Y/n)," his eyes were sharp, serious, "whatever you do, don't die. We don't even know if it means Kibutsuji dying with you." He pulled her over so they were face to face. "The risks are too high. What if there's another way? I don't want you dying in vain and besides I..."

A soft smile rose to (Y/n)'s lips but it was all teeth and little warmth. It sent a chill in the air, made the windows grow frosty. "I know."

Did she?

Did she understand the pain growing in Hawks's heart? The fear that began consuming him whenever he walked into the Director's office? He always felt as if they were playing god, as if they only saw (Y/n) as nothing more than a game of chess.

And oh, how Hawks wished to say: I will save you too.

Insread, all that came out was, ​​​​"Just...be careful."

---

A familiar presence, warm yet stingy alerted (Y/n)'s senses. She didn't need to look to know it was Yushiro. As flames burst from the tip of her blade, he shouted something from the porch, but it was muffled, faint.

"(Y/n)!"

She continued running her blade through the tatami mats.

"(Y/n)!"

It was second nature to talk with nothing but a sword. Each cut, every slice, a reflection of her weathered mind and troubled heart. She continued on, only pausing when Yushiro's presence neared. He had traversed through the rubble, a plate of onigiri in hand.

"Are you done yet?" There was little interest in his voice. "You destroyed my garden!"

(Y/n)'s stance relaxed and she paused to take in the damage. Flower petals scattered across the yard, wood chips littered at her feet, and rubble collapsed to nothing but dust. She sheathed her blade, shoulders heaving. "I'll clean up, sorry, Oji-san."

All Yushiro did was set the plate down on the porch table and disappear into the house. He complained about how bright the sun was, and told Chachamaru to stay inside before he 'got trampled by (Y/n)'s carelessness'.

She huffed to herself and reassembled the yard piece by piece. It wasn't like she was trying to make a mess. Besides, she could just put everything back together. The grass and flowers formed into little bushes, the trees connected fibre by fibre to bring shade and protection from the wind. Maybe she took today's training too far. The dirt upon her cheeks and clothes should have been an indicator.

Once (Y/n)'s hands were washed and she had dusted off herself, she began eating

"(Y/n)," the porch doors slid open, "can we talk?" Yushiro stepped out into the morning light in his usual kimono-hakama combo and took a seat on one of the chairs. His brows knit together, tightly pulling like a rope ready to snap. His aura filled with a sense of unease, staggering like a blocked river.

(Y/n) bit into her onigiri, frowning. "Is...something wrong?" She didn't like the look on his face, the sorrow filling his lavender eyes.

"I'm glad you don't resent me for being away so long." He sighed and it was tired, "Recently, I've been working on a project but it hasn't been showing any promise. It's slow and my thoughts on it are far from positive."

Confusion plastered itself on (Y/n)'s face. "I'm sure you've been working hard. Why are you so concerned?"

"(Y/n)," Yushiro spoke very slowly, "my work will determine your livelihood. If I cannot get this right, you will die, and that fact alone is not one I will ever forgive myself for. If only Tamayo-sama were here, without her knowledge I fear we will fail."

He paused again as if to gather his bearings, as if to slow the quickening beat of his heart. "Something changed in Kibutsuji's cells. We've identified quirk factors, which should be impossible considering quirks hadn't existed in our time."

Meaning, even if they did figure out how to modify Tamayo's anti-demon serum, it wouldn't be an end-all-be-all.

"Besides the issue of separating two consciousnesses, quirk factors can't be removed. That is something you are born with, or in this case, given. My time is running out, forgive me, (Y/n)."

The tenderness to Yushiro's voice made her insides freeze, her fingertips numb. "What are you talking about?" But all she saw was an ocean of despair, a look of resignation. "You're not giving up, are you?"

And if he said yes, could she blame him? This terrible evil in her chest was her burden to bear. With no idea of how to defeat the Demon King, relying on the strength of mind and soul was the same as walking on thin ice--waiting for doom. Giving up would mean more than defeat, as the terrors of the night would break free to wreck havoc on this false peace.

"Yushiro."

He met her gaze solemnly, it wasn't often she called him by name.

"It's alright." A smile rose to her lips and it was gentle as winter's first snow, warm as the morning sun. There was an intensity behind her molten eyes like lava, so golden as the dusk. She thought of Kyojurou and all he taught her, how he always reassured her so easily. So perfectly. "Whatever happens, I trust you. Don't make it a heavy concern, these things take time."

But Yushiro would concern himself inevitably. (Y/n) was young, and as a student of U.A. had the opportunity at a career. A stable, undeniably easy future if not for this one evil. He imagined her standing before him beside Akaza (the damned demon, how had the two fallen for each other?), all grown to the age of twenty-five. Even if her years would be cut short, it would have been a life lived to the fullest. Undeniably, that fact alone made everything worthwhile.

"And what if it torments me? What if it's all I spend my life doing?" Yushiro clenched the fabric of his haori, knuckles white. "Tamayo-sama would send me back to this earth if you ended up in Heaven before me! I refuse to give up."

The future was all he could think about. The what ifs and the happy endings.

(Y/n)'s happy ending.

"Promise me this one thing." There was a softness to his voice, a vulnerability threatening to shake him. "Even when you feel like giving up, even if one day you feel the whole world has turned against you, do not take the easy way out through death. Fight."

(Y/n) searched his eyes so warm yet cold, so soft as a flower's petal yet hard as rock. Of course she would fight, of course she would give it her all until her last breath. But did it mean surviving? Did it mean living?

No. That was a fool's errand, a pipe dream she would never entertain. And that was exactly what Yushiro implied: Stay alive, do not die.

(Y/n) reached across the table and pulled his hand into hers. She gave it a squeeze, "I can't promise I will live, but I promise to fight."

His eyes were glossy, downturned. "Until your last breath?"

"Until my last breath." Embers flickered in and out within (Y/n)'s heart, struggling through the icy cold. It was a deadly blizzard, unforgiving to those that dared challenge its ferocity. A single snowflake fluttered through the storm, bringing with it a gentle kindness, the touch of love. If not for those she cared for, all hope would be lost.

But it wasn't. Not yet.

"Thank you for always supporting me, Oji-san. I wouldn't have made it this far without all your chiding. You yell a lot, and it's annoying sometimes, but--"

A warm pair of arms wrapped around (Y/n)'s shoulders. Yushiro held her as if she would disappear, as if today were his last. "You better not be lying to me, Chisaki (Y/n). Don't pretend, at least, never to me."

All (Y/n) could do was remain in his arms, those embers growing cold. She saw the image of Kyojurou in the morning sun, so strong, so resilient. His cape would flow in the wind like flames, illuminating his billowing hair that shone like liquid gold.

Set your heart ablaze.

Set your heart ablaze!

(Y/n) pushed away the memories of yesterday, the face of her brother and Hari, and held it all in. She felt tears against her haori, cold and wet. "Oji-san?"

Yushiro quickly pulled away, turning around to pretend he watched the rising sun as he mopped up his obvious tears. "Y-you're going to be late for school."

(Y/n)'s expression softened and she lrt him lead her inside with a tentative hand. She felt his eyes follow her as she disappeared up the stairs.

Yushiro stood in the living room alone, memories from the other night filtering into his mind. He thought of Kochou as she bid him goodbye, the words that had sprouted from her mouth like static.

"Yushiro-san." The hashira stood tall, a hand resting on the door's frame. There was a heaviness to her scent, a deep sadness. "As much as we all want to save (Y/n), when worse comes to worst, we have to be prepared."

Prepared? Hah.

Above the Corps, the world, everything else--(Y/n) came first. Always. He would not need to be prepared for that moment, because with the burning fire in his chest, he would find a cure.

He swore on it.

---

Mina was the first to greet (Y/n) this dreary, solemn morning. Her smile, always so chipper and bright would have been contagious if not for the looming doom permeating the air.

"Woah," she blinked, "what did Hawks do to you during the internship?"

(Y/n) waved a hand, shaking her head. "Nothing in particular. If you're curious, I'm sure Tokoyami would be thrilled to tell you all about it."

Off to the side, the boy's head perked up. He sat straighter, eyes wide as he blinked. "What?"

Mina let out a laugh. "Hawks is one of the coolest heroes, I want to hear what you have to say. He's the fastest, super charming, and rarely ever declines autographs and pictures. I'd kill to have a selfie."

"Forget selfies!" exclaimed Kirishima. "Do you know how excited I was to see Tetsutestsu at my internship? Who knew we'd both be there!"

Considering the two had an extreme display of 'manliness' during the Festival on live tele, it wasn't out of the ballpark to assume they would be scouted together. (Y/n) recalled the two bumping heads in the ring and how similar their personalities had been. They were like two brothers from another mother.

The door opened loudly with a creak, where Bakugou stood hunched over like a wet dog. (Y/n) paused, jaw slowly falling open as she took in his slicked back hair. What happened to him? There was no way that was consensual, he would never do that to himself. As laughter rang in the air, she followed his gaze as he sat down, baring his teeth with an animalistic growl.

"The fuck you looking at, extra?"

(Y/n) would have made a jab if not for the heaviness in her chest. She shrugged, huffing in faint amusement.

Bakugou looked at her strangely.

Slowly, the day began, where Aizawa announced the coming of finals and how passing meant joining the summer camp. Mina seemed especially excited, along with Kaminari, but with their grades, would it even be possible to make it through? (Y/n) had to admit, she felt the slightest bit remorse.

There was nothing notable about today besides All Might's class that was frankly, the only interesting thing on any day's agenda. Today's task was to find him in the training site's mock city while following a distress signal. Whoever came first was considered the winner. All Might broke everyone into groups, periodically calling each to the platform for today's exercise.

The first group launched at the ready, with Sero in the lead and Mina right behind. Midoriya was in last until a green light sprouted from his legs, swirling, bursting with an energy that made the air buzz. As he sped forward, a pang made (Y/n)'s chest burn. It was a pull that threatened to consume her very being where adrenaline pumped into her veins. Sweat gathered at her brow and she gripped the railing tight, willing herself not to bend the metal beneath her fingertips.

A bony hand connected with (Y/n)'s shoulder, where Kibutsuji leaned down and spoke into her ear. "I will devour him."

The world faded into static, pulling (Y/n) deep into the vastness of power. She felt the potential Midoriya's quirk had, the possibilities that tied itself into it. There was a buzz in her limbs, a surge of energy that filled her with the urge to grasp it--take it. It was the same as being pulled into a vortex, twisted and warped to mere atoms. There was no escaping this feeling, this need that weakened (Y/n)'s knees.

She heaved, forcing air into her lungs as those bony fingers tapped rhythmically against her throat. "It's disgusting how quickly you continue to change before my very eyes," Kibutsuji let his hand fall to his side, "how utterly disturbing mere children grow so swiftly. It's why you're all filth. Imperfection created your needs to wax and wane the same as the moon."

Their gazes locked and every fibre in (Y/n)'s body seemed to freeze to ice.

"Your failures are because you can never chance against someone honed to utter perfection." He paused, those razor sharp fangs glistening. "Still, those of this era have something I want, and I intend to get every last bit of it."

(Y/n) blinked and Kibutsuji vanished the same as a mere apparition.

The next group was called up. (Y/n) made her way to the platform, breaths uneven as the distress signal sounded. She followed it, guiding her steps with ease. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the fear, but she made it to All Might first. At the platform, she knelt over her knees, heaving and heaving from the pressure on her joints.

"Incredible as always," All Might clapped. "Congrats on being the first one here Chisaki Shojo!"

The smile on his face, although kind, didn't make her feel better. She leaned against the railing, a hand to her chest. "Thank...you."

There was a shake in her hands and she wondered how such fear consumed her when Kibutsuji didn't even try to take control of her body. His mere presence was enough to make her shiver, and that alone kick started her fight or flight. It shouldn't have. As a hashira who used to make demons fear her, it shouldn't have.

Bakugou landed on the platform with a curse. "Second?!" he cried. "What the fuck!"

(Y/n) paid him little mind as he stomped around like a child. That was until he rounded on her, fists clenched at his sides as she stared up into his furious eyes. "What? Don't tell me you seek my condolences."

"When did you and shitty Deku both get power-ups?"

"Midoriya had his internship and I decided to push myself in a different direction. Leave me alone."

Bakugou growled like a rabid dog and slouched against the railing without another word. He looked to be thinking to himself, brows knit tight. "Got a stick up your--"

(Y/n) kicked him in the leg, but not enough to break anything. His shouting was like music to her ears. "Shut up before I make you."

"Why don't you shut up? Damn extra...!"

From the side lines, All Might watched with bated breath, that smile on his face drooping. "Could we please keep it civil? I don't want anyone hurting themselves..."

Class was quick to end. On the way to the locker rooms, (Y/n) accidentally tripped over Mineta, but before he could slam into her chest, she judo flipped him into the lockers. It so-happened that after everyone had come back from the changing rooms, Kaminari mentioned how he and Mineta found a peep hole but thought better than to use it in fear of being beaten up again.

The girls all clapped for (Y/n). She wordlessly bowed. There was nothing wrong with being a good Samaritan in times of need.

---

The sun seemed to burn brighter today, as if trying to reach (Y/n) as she walked back home. Each step was silent as the night, yet seemed to send ripples throughout the street. Leaves fluttered through the wind, where trees sang ominously.

It had been a while since (Y/n) got any calls or texts from Tetsuya and the crew. The usual meetups were in abandoned warehouses, but whenever she checked, no one had been there. Ever since she saw Hari this weekend, it had been like they disappeared off the map. What happened to them?

The air suddenly grew cold as if winter had come early. (Y/n) broke into a sprint, where a darkness settled as the sun began to fade over the horizon. How long had she taken to walk back home? Why was daylight so short when it was supposed to be longer?

(Y/n) burst into the front yard, trampling grass as she ripped the front foor off its hinges.

"What the hell?!" Yushiro nearly dropped his teacup. "My door!"

(Y/n) didn't stop to watch him fumble about the kitchen. She raced up the stairs and pulled out her nichirin from underneath her bed, unsheathing the blade. It gleamed dangerously, blue and purple hues dancing in her eyes as she stalked into the living room.

The presence had begun to fade like ice that had long melted, leaving only the stench of blood and death. Blood thrummed in (Y/n)'s ears, a steady rhythm she followed to the beat of her breath. She silently crept through the house, opening doors and overturning rooms frantically.

This icy chill, this doom-filled presence so empty and unfeeling. There was no doubt about it--Douma had been here, just as he had that day in the alleyway. She recalled the shards of ice that nearly pierced her neck, the pain that came after as Hari tackled her to the ground.

"We need to move," (Y/n) said, sheathing her blade. Chachamaru meowed quietly, rubbing against her ankles curiously as she continued searching the house. "But how did he find us?"

Back in the kitchen, Yushiro stood stirring a pot nonchalantly. He paid the rukus no mind, instead, motioning for (Y/n) to take a seat. "Dinner is almost ready. Put that katana away and come eat."

"Oji-san, what about--?"

"Pay it no mind, we leave tonight. My blood demon art only keeps us hidden, not invisible. It was bound to happen at some point." There was a firmness in his voice, an edge that made all warmth vanish. (Y/n) begrudgingly sat down, graciously taking a cup and filling it with tea. She sipped on it, stomach churning.

"Why didn't you call for help? You could have sent Chachamaru to get me." She gave the cat a pat on the head as he snuggled in her lap, purring contently. "If I had gotten here sooner, you know I wouldn't have let that demon touch you."

With a long, long sigh, Yushiro turned off the stove. He turned, a soft look in his eyes. "Thank you for worrying about me, (Y/n). If anything, I was more concerned for you. Your blood is extremely valuable. I was not going to allow him to take it." He set down a tray of food, that gentle look still in his eyes. "I'm not a strong fighter, but I figured Upper Moon Two wouldn't have stayed if it meant having to fight. He was in a rush."

After dinner finished, it was all hands on deck for the move. It was incredible to see kakushi run about the house, assisting in packing and loading belongings into a truck. Then, a familiar voice hit (Y/n)'s ears and she looked up to meet the gaze of her kasugai crow. She cawed in greeting before landing in a nearby tree.

"Where? Where is Shinazugawa-san?"

(Y/n) sent her crow a funny look. "Shinazugawa Sanemi-san? How would I know? I just got home an hour ago and now I have to move." The frustration leaking into her voice made the crow stifle a cackle.

"Always so uptight. So tense." She took flight, and with a flutter of her wings, disappeared into the trees.

Once everyrhing had been packed, the truck and kakushi were off, leaving only an empty, empty house behind. (Y/n) stood in the grass, gaze burning into the outline of the home. She hadn't been here for long, but it was a place where she (mostly) was welcome and (mostly) free from shackles. Still--Yushiro had taken care of her since the moment she came through the front door.

(Y/n) would miss this place she called home.

"Why am I paired with you again?" Sanemi waltzed through the gate, a hand clenched into a fist. "Where's Rengoku? Ever since he got into school, he's never around..."

(Y/n) perked up, gaze meeting Sanemi's. "Kyojurou has his memories?"

There was nothing more revolting to Sanemi than (Y/n)'s ignorance. He face-palmed, rubbing at his temples to soothe the incoming headache. "You're telling me you see him at school everyday and assume he's your friend because he's a nice guy? 'I love my former tsuguko'! That's all he talks about. Makes me sick."

A pang in (Y/n)'s heart made her lips purse. It seemed all the Hashira were together besides her. She was too dangerous to have around. Still, as part of the Corps, did she not have a duty beside her fellow slayers too?

As if sensing her inner conflict, Sanemi turned on his heel and began down the lane. "Geez, do you really hate to see me that much? Get that stupid look off your face. We're leaving, so don't give me trouble like you already have! It's pissing me off. Where's that Yushiro guy...?"

An exasperated sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips. Still, her shoulders relaxed.

Was it just her or had Sanemi become a softie?

---

The final week of June swept through U.A. the same as a blizzard--cold and unforgiving.

Ah, yes. How could (Y/n) forget? As number eight out of the twenty-one classmates in 1-A, she had to maintain her academic rank.

All the tutoring (by Yushiro) and quizzing (by Yushiro) would not be done in vain (or else he'd explode like dynamite).

It shouldn't have been such a shocker, but the looks (Y/n)'s classmates and friends gave each other during homeroom made it clear how serious finals were. Her pencil slipped from her hands and she bent down to pick it up.

Ah, her hands were already sweaty. This was bad.

Off to the side, Mina placed her head in her hands alongside Kaminari. It seemed the two were in last when it came to grades.

"(Y/n)," said Mina, "how are your studies going?" She raised her eyebrows, smiling wide.

"I'm not going to tutor you if that's what you're trying to get at." (Y/n) quickly said. "Besides, Bakugou's the smart one."

At that, the boy perked up, eyes aglow with fire. "Like hell I'm tutoring anyone! Go to the library!"

There was a collective amount of deflating until Yaoyorozu raised a hand like a saint and offered to tutotr at her house. (Y/n) would accept if not for her history with the girl's father and her own anxieties about going over to a classmate's house. The Yaoyorozu family had supported the Hassaikai for some time, but there were rumours they withdrew funding--because of Overhaul.

A sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips and she rubbed at the lines threatening to form on her forehead. "There's also a practical exam, too, right?"

Cue more protesting and an 'are you serious?!'. Mina flopped down in her seat, sighing dejectedly. "It just keeps getting worse and worse..."

"And to think Mineta is higher ranked than all of us!" Kaminari exclaimed, pointing a finger in his direction. "I thought you were one of us! Liar!"

There was a cool expression on Mineta's face. "What can I say? That's life."

A red-hot flash of irritation wrote itself across (Y/n)'s face. She glared down the purple grape boy from the corner of her eye, jaw clenched tight. How was that little twerp smarter than her? The bastard.

A shiver ran down Mineta's spine. "I feel a bad presence...like someone's trying to kill me...!"

That presence was, in fact, (Y/n).

Later that day, (Y/n) found herself lucky enough to catch Yushiro at the perfect time to help with her exams. He sent her the biggest side-eye in existence, but with the sheepish smile she forced to her lips and those big, doe-like eyes, he couldn't say no.

Three hours passed far too slowly for the both of them.

"Do you understand now?"

(Y/n)'s brows knit together as she nodded. It was still a little fuzzy, but the general purpose slowly clicked into place. "I think so."

Yushiro nodded in satisfaction and stood. Chachamaru wandered in the room, brushing against his ankles with a pur. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. If you're hungry, there's Korean barbecue in the fridge."

(Y/n)'s eyes lit up the same as stars. "Korean barbecue?" she echoed. "Really?"

A soft smile rose to Yushiro's lips and he snorted. "Yes. I'll be going now, sleep at a reasonable time, Chachamaru will be home with you today."

And as Yushiro's footsteps slowly vanished, (Y/n) had the urge to kick her feet back and forth. It was rare he ever made anything that wasn't traditional. The thought of Korean barbecue, of all things, made her giddy with excitement.

The next day at school, Bakugou looked even more upset than usual. Since the day he shouted in her face about how her and Midoriya suddenly had 'power-ups', it seemed he was in a worse mood than ever. He shoved a finger in Midoriya's face and told him how he'd open a rift up so wide, it would kill him, then growled at her and Todoroki.

"You both too! I'll beat you all."

And then the door slammed shut and he was off to class.

Finals came quicker than (Y/n) expected. The day of, she sat at her desk, tapping a foot to the ground as she went through math problems, science, literature, kanji, and the like. She was fine with the literature and kanji portion, but the rest? Not so much. Even with Yushiro's teachings (he was very smart), hope slipped through her fingers like sand.

And then it was time for the practical.

There were rumours by Class 1-B that it would be a fight against robots, but that sounded far too easy. Besides, this was U.A., they were known for everything impractical and creative. (Y/n) fiddled with the sleeve of her haori, the angry face of Yushiro filtering into her mind. She let out a brief sigh, rubbing at her temples.

She had to make sure she passed.

What was more, all the teachers were lined up before the class. This couldn't be a normal exam, right? At the front of the group stood Aizawa, hands stuffed in his pockets. "It is, of course, a hundred percent possible to fail this exam. You want to go to the summer training camp? Don't mess this up."

(Y/n) could care less about the summer training camp, but if she didn't go, Mina would most definitely be disappointed (not that she actually cared about what her friend thought, right?).

"Knowing you guys, you probably asked around and got some vague idea of what today's gonna be like, didn't you?" Aizawa inquired.

Kaminari shot a hand into the air, "Robots like the entrance exam!"

Mina mimicked him. "Fireworks! Curry! Truth or dare!"

One look at Aizawa's unamused expression made (Y/n) feel bad for her classmates. From his scarf, Principal Nezu shot out with the biggest smile on his face. "Not quite!" he said. "Various circumstances have demanded a revision to the exam format! From now on, we'll be focusing on flesh-and-blood battles! It's critical our teaching simulates practical experience as closely as possible!"

(Y/n) eyed the group of teachers. There were about nine of them, and amongst them, she spotted a familiar man with red hair and sad eyes.

Yoriichi. She wasn't gonna fight him, was she?

"As such," Nezu continued, "you students will be pairing up and fighting one of the teachers you see here!"

(Y/n) could feel her face pale. There was no way. Absolutely not.

"Your pairings and assigned teacher have already been decided. Your grades, your battle moves, your friendships with one another, are all factors. Some were considered more than others, so without further ado!"

There was a grin on Aizawa's face. Considering the man never smiled, that was not a good sign. "First up, Todoroki and Yaoyorozu, you're with me! Next, Midoriya, Chisaki, and Bakugou. Since there's three of you, your two opponents will be All Might and Tsugikuni!"

(Y/n) locked eyes with Yoriichi, who merely smiled as if nothing in this world were wrong. They had to be joking. How could she ever win against the first user? He had access to the Transparent World and Selfless State at all times, which meant she couldn't sense him. What was more, combining his strength with All Might--who literally changed the weather with a single strike--could only mean one thing.

(Y/n) was going to fail.

Oh, this was ridiculous! Who came up with the idea of fighting teachers one-on-one? Besides! Yoriichi and All Might? The two strongest of their respective generations? Training was one thing, but passing an exam was different. Couldn't Nezu have been more...realistic?

The world seemed to turn upside down. Was this fear her own or Kibutsuji's, who remained a coward even after thousands of years? Who knew. This panic in her chest was all too real.

A chill crawled down (Y/n)'s spine as she boarded the bus to the training site. It was her, Midoriya, Bakugou who stuffed himself all the way into the back, Yoriichi, and All Might by the wheel.

Midoriya sat a couple seats away, sweating bullets. The poor kid. He looked just as nervous as (Y/n) felt.

"So!" All Might suddenly said. "Who likes to play word games?"

The silence was loud and even louder when Midoriya's sneaker squeaked against the floor. (Y/n) leaned back in her seat, lips pressed tight. For a split second, her gaze locked with Yoriichi's. He smiled, a fond look in his eye despite the fact he was preparing to crush her to bits in the next twenty minutes.

"It's only an exam." His soothing voice sent a wave of calm through the air. (Y/n) basked in it, summoning all her willpower to push Kibutsuji to the far reaches of her mind. "The goal is not to win, that would be unreasonable."

"Well, I'm not sure that makes anything better..."

Yoriichi's gaze softened like butter, sweet and kind as he chuckled. "As Principal Nezu said, this exam is designed to work against all your weaknesses. It may not allow all of you to completely conquer them, but will serve as a starting point."

Haha. Great. The ominous air in his tone didn't make (Y/n) feel any better. But that might have just been Kibutsuji again.

Once the bus came to a stop and they all gathered at the training site, All Might explained the rules. They were given thirty minutes to either handcuff the teachers or flee to the exit on the other side of the site in order to pass.

All Might and Yoriichi were given compressed weights that held them down by fifty percent of their body weight, which they noted would slow them down significantly.

"We held a contest for that," chimed in Yoriichi. "Hatsume, the girl from the Festival, won."

Great. Awesome. Cool. Would they really do anything to help? Not really. (Y/n) was getting impatient, but it seemed Bakugou moreso than her.

He frowned, "Trying to bring this fight down to our level or something? That's insulting."

(Y/n) sent him a side-eye, arms crossed and heels digging into the ground. "You shouldn't underestimate our teachers. I'd rather not allow my ego to get in the way."

"Huh?! Whose ego are you talking about?"

"Yours." (Y/n) flatly said. "Keep it in line."

All Might sweat dropped, placing a hand to his forehead. He must have already been exasperated, but who wouldn't be? Bakugou was annoying.

The exam began with more bickering, more shouting, and a plethora of insults (Y/n) got quite creative with.

"Stop following me!" Bakugou sped-walked past a bridge, picking up speed as he traversed across the wide streets. "Obviously, beating them both down is the best option!"

"Are you stupid?" (Y/n) was getting fairly annoyed, and a part of her wondered if this was how Sanemi felt when they first teamed up on a mission. "Anyone with common sense would see the immense power gap between us and them. We can't win."

Midoriya chased after the two, lagging at their heels as he awkwardly swallowed. "I-I agree! We're better off avoiding a battle no matter what! I don't know how strong Tsugikuni sensei is, but All Might isn't someone we can beat."

(Y/n) could already see the image of Yoriichi's face, so calm and serene in the back of her mind. "Tsugikuni Sensei is strong. Underestimating him would be fatal, as it's impossible to sense him. He moves faster than the speed of light, if you let your guard down--"

"We'll let them both toy with us until the very end, and then, I'll let them have it!" shouted Bakugou with a grunt.

"B-but it's All Might we're talking about! And if what Chisaki is saying is as bad as it sounds--"

Out of the corner of (Y/n)'s eye, she spotted Bakugou raise his fist in a punch. She caught it in an iron grip, eyes cold, icy. "Do you want to fail?"

Bakugou ripped his arm away and shoved her, only for her to remain rooted in place. It would take a lot more than that to move her.

"Shut the hell up! I don't fail! And who do you think you are? A prissy little princess? All you do is boss me around! You're not special!"

"I never said I was?"

"You think I need you or Deku's stupid power to pass?! Forget it!" He turned on his heel and marched in the opposite direction.

Midoriya reached out a hand, alwasy chasing, always trying to get his attention. Was he blind? Bakugou would never listen.

"Stop yelling!" Midoriya shouted. "This is why we can never actually talk!" He began after Bakugou, calling out to him about teamwork and avoiding battle. It soon faded as only the wind, fluttering away the same as leaves.

The air changed directions, as if being pulled by an invisible force. (Y/n) eyed the horizon, towards the empty buildings and cheaply crafted streetlamps. There were no signs of life, not an ounce of notable fighting spirit in the air. Her eyes fluttered closed, where only her own intuition could guide her.

The air felt strange. Why did it feel strange?

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open and she rolled to the side. A strong gust of wind ripped through the air, shredding up asphalt and street lamps and the bridge into a mere pile of rubble. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she coughed out a mouthful of dust, eyes wide and heart hammering. A tall man in a kimono and hakama stood in the middle of the street, a bokken in hand.

"It's a wonder you dodged such a blow. That would have been fatal, even for you, (Y/n)." Yoriichi's gentle voice did nothing to soothe her nerves. She heaved out a breath, gaze never once leaving from her mentor.

"Bakugou! Midoriya! Run!" The air shifted again, where a strong aura that burned like fire permeated the air. There was no question about it--this was All Might's fighting spirit. "He's coming this way!"

Of course, like headless chickens, the two boys broke into random directions. Dust and rubble clouded the air in a haze, where (Y/n) morphed the ground into spikes that shredded and pierced. She squinted, straining her eyes to aim for the blur that was Yoriichi.

A foot landed in her side and she flew into a building. Cracks spider-webbed around her, where concrete crumbled into littke pebbles as she fell flat on her side with a groan. Sounds of fighting hit her ears, where explosions and sparks of light appeared through the dust like fireworks.

Midoriya and Bakugou must have started fighting All Might. That meant, if there wasn't a good distraction, none of them were going to make it to the exit on the other side of the training site. It was far, and with the two strongest on their tails, impossible.

The sound of Yoriichi's bokken butting through the air lit a fire under (Y/n)'s feet. She rolled over, willing the ground into frantic spikes so she could run away.

"Is that all you plan to do?" Yoriichi inquired. "Flee?"

No. But it was the only option that would buy her time. She sprinted into one of the skyscrapers, climbing the stairs at top speed as Yoriichi followed behind. He was nearly at her heels, steps silent in contrast to her thundering feet.

(Y/n) paused at the top of the final level, slamming a hand onto the ground. "Sorry, Sensei."

Yoriichi's eyes widened. Before he could so much as blink, the ground crumbled beneath his feet. (Y/n) didn't stay to watch him disappear. She sprinted to the rooftop and leapt to the next building, peering over the side to where All Might should have been.

Should have been.

The strength of a raging fire, the energy that was like a flame and a spark combined into one. (Y/n) whipped around just in time to see a fist smash into the ground. The building wobbled before a hole blasted itself all the way to the first floor.

Were these people even human? It was the same as fighting an Upper Moon!

All Might let out a loud laugh as if he enjoyed the slight fear leaking into (Y/n)'s eyes. "Usually, I'd say 'I am here'! But today, I am not here, because I'm a villain!"

(Y/n) ignored the corny joke in favour of fleeing. Why was everyone after her when Bakugou and Midoriya were better targets? As she made her way back to the street, she rounded a sharp corner.

Only to come face to face with Yoriichi and his deadly bokken. One swipe from that was enough to destroy whole buildings. (Y/n) quickly turned the other way, only to be met with All Might and his deadly smile.

"You're cornered!" he said.

"All because your teammates abandoned you. I can only feel sorry for you." Yoriichi added.

Wow. Was this gang-up-on-(Y/n)-day-and-jump-her-like-we're-in-the-hood? She dodged deadly punches, landed a couple kicks to both her teachers, and ducked out of the way of that stupidly strong bokken. There was no break, no pause in either of the teachers' attacks. They were unrelenting and so, so swift.

If this were a real fight, would she have survived? If she could barely face the might of her teachers, how could she expect to defeat Kibutsuji on her own? He was a demon and demons didn't die.

As for All Might and Yoriichi, they were the strongest. Where did that place (Y/n)?

A hard punch to the face knocked her against the wall and she faltered, coughing out a puddle of blood. She felt something crack, but it might have been the wall. Or her ribs. She didn't want to know.

Oh, if Akaza saw her like this, he would only be disappointed (or out for blood).

If only she had ran faster. If only she had just tried harder to get Bakugou to listen. But would he? Of course not.

In life, it was either kill or be killed. She was about to be the latter, all because she waa too weak on her own.

"Where are your teammates?" inquired All Might with a grin. "They hadn't abandoned you, right?"

With a kick to the side, (Y/n) flew out into the open streets, bleeding, disoriented, and battered. She was already on her feet, forcing the ground into columns that slammed straight into her attackers. The concrete cracked instantly on impact, to which she answeed back with more. Spikes, pillars, anything would do as long as she put enough space between her and these damned teachers.

Behind walls and walls of spiked concrete, (Y/n) broke into a sprint and made a getaway into an alleyway. She didn't have time to look for Bakugou or Midoriya. One wrong move and she was cooked.

An explosion suddenly rang through the air, where sparks followed, dyeing the sky green. Oh, it was like a god had burst through the clouds and descended from the heavens. (Y/n) would have never thought she'd be any happier.

"Finally!" she exclaimed. "You got that loudmouth to cooperate!"

Through the hazy smoke and sweet smell of burnt sugar, Bakugou stood tall among the rubble, that nasty scowl still ever present on his lips. "Shut the hell up! I'm not here for you. I'm here to beat the villains to a pulp!"

(Y/n) dusted herself off, all joy vanishing. "Then what took you so long?"

There was no time for answers. Maybe those two had gotten caught up in bickering, or somehow gotten lost. Whatever the case, watching them fight Yoriichi and All Might was a sight to see.

Or rather--pure chaos.

A swordsman versus a boy who kicked as a main attack. A smiley man with his fists versus an idiot who exploded everything to dust.

It was good at first, until Midoriya nearly collided with Bakugou, who then proceeded to try and blow up his face.

These two were...how were they considered friends...?

"What the hell?! Get out of the way!"

"I wasn't trying to get in your way!"

(Y/n) resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She sped forward, and just as her feet touched the ground, Bakugou's gauntlet met her face in with the weight of a boulder. That was probably for Midoriya because it burned with animosity. She gritted her teeth and tore herself away, blood dripping from her nose.

For once, the Ice Hashira, who was only ice-cold as winter, became boiling hot like summer. Heat rose to her face and her insides felt as if they would burn to ash.

"What are you, five?!" she roared. "My friends are younger than you and have a better concept of teamwork! Get a grip! We have twenty minutes left and haven't made any progress since we started!"

"Shut up!" Bakugou turned away. "I'm gonna win, because that's what heroes do!"

(Y/n) appeared in front of him in the blink of an eye. She raised a hand and slapped him clean across the face. The sharp sound cut through the air like a knife.

"We are going to the exit. Now."

All Might appeared from the skies, shouting about how he had a present. He held up a guardrail, to which (Y/n) kicked away at full force. It slammed into a building at top speeds, only to sever it in half before landing straight into Yoriichi's gut. The complex came toppling over on All Might as the poor Yoriichi doubled over in the rubble. (Y/n) pulled both boys along by the arm.

"W-wait, Chisaki-san!" said Midoriya. "We won't make it even though we're running!"

Even with how much he rambled about needing a sneak attack with Bakugou's explosions, she wouldn't have it. These two idiots took way too long to find her, and what was more, all three of them kept bickering about this and that. Were they so stupid they allowed precious time to pass as worthless dirt?

Or were they just, well, stupid?

It seemed All Might and Yoriichi were too busy recovering, because they were nowhere to be seen. Up ahead, a cute archway labeled 'escape gate' with a picture of Nezu's face stood at the end of the training site.

The ground they trekked upon was wrecked into mere rubble. Judging by the direction it went, ut must have been caused by that blast at the start of the exam.

Bakugou made a sour face, "They're not messing around..."

The air remained still, undisturbed by any strong auras. (Y/n) spared a glance behind her shoulder. "No one's here yet."

Midoriya swallowed, "Maybe they really were knocked out by all that."

Bakugou scoffed. "As if something like that would take them down. What a load of crap! Neither's not gonna go down from that alone! And they come back again, they'll get a taste of--"

Intuition was a powerful weapon. Before (Y/n) could so much as think, she shoved Midoriya out of the way. A fist lodged itself into the ground as they went tumbling away, just in time to see Bakugou's gauntlet smash into smithereens by All Might himself.

And if things couldn't have gotten worse, a hand caught (Y/n) by the collar, hauling her up off the ground as if she were a mere house cat. "Exhausted already?" Yoriichi smiled gently. "You should get some rest after the exam."

It was clear her mentor meant no harm, but the look on his face still felt condescending. It seared a fire into (Y/n)'s heart, a winding vine of frustration that pulled her tight. "I appreciate your concern." she sarcastically grumbled. "So very kind as always, Sensei."

"The pleasure is all mine."

His tone was way too serious. Ah, maybe this was why he and his brother never got along...

A voice suddenly cut through the loudspeakers, announcing Aizawa's loss against Yaoyorozu and Todoroki.

All Might placed a hand to his hip, lips still curled into a grin. "Hm, it seems Aizawa must have been careless!" He planted a foot over Bakugou and Midoriya, who lay limp beneath him, as he laughed. "Shall I bury you guys?"

(Y/n) stared up at Yoriichi, glaring into that innocent face of his. Why did he have to be six foot something? It was nearly impossible to wrangle out of his grip, and the harder she struggled, the tighter his grasp became.

"Are you ready to end the exam?" Yoriichi inquired. "You only have eight minutes left."

(Y/n) ground her teeth together and kicked her legs around his neck. With a twist, the two were on the ground, wrestling it out. She landed a couple punches and kicks before wiggling away to go toe-to-toe with All Might. He laughed as she shoved her two classmates towards the gate, where spikes and walls of concrete shielded them from the terrors that were their own teachers.

"Can you two hurry up?! Do something to slow them down!" Concrete rose from the ground and configured into spikes. (Y/n) launched them into the air with a kick, but just as easily, Yoriichi split it all to pieces with quick swipes of his bokken.

Bakugou growled and whipped out his gauntlet. "Stop trying to be the hero all by yourself!" An explosion rang out through the air, sending clouds of smoke and soot into the sky. "Deku! Move your ass! As much as I hate to admit it, with the power gap, this is our only chance of winning!" Midoriya didn't have time to move an inch before he was manhandled and grabbed by the collar.

Bakugou launched poor Midoriya through the skies like a baseball. "DIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!"

Then he whipped around and pulled the trigger on his gauntlet. A wall of flames burst in a world of fiery colour. (Y/n)'s eyes widened as Bakugou shoved her towards the exit. "GO!"

Just as fast as they turned to run, All Might appeared out of the blue. Bakugou's eyes widened and shoved (Y/n) to the side again, where a fist socked him across the face. He tumbled to the ground, as blood and spit trailed down his face, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

For a moment, (Y/n) stood on the battlefield, stunned. To think her rival had done such a thing. She dodged Yoriichi's bokken and swiped a large metal pole from the ground. It deconstructed and formed into a makeshift katana. With a deep breath, she swung, fire and ice bursting from the tip. The force pushed All Might back, who slammed into Yoriichi and tumbled into a pile of rubble.

With a tap of her hand, the ground rearranged into a field of spikes, with All Might and Yoriichi at the other side. (Y/n) hauled Bakugou up, silently thanking him for his unwarranted sacrifice. She breathed deeply, focusing all her energy into her legs. But just as her heel lifted off the ground, a sharp pain fileld her system and she stumbled.

A hand caught her by the shoulder, carefully helping her to her feet. (Y/n) looked up to meet Midoroya's kind eyes, so green and filled with life. "It's my turn to help you for all you've done!" He took her by the arm and Bakugou by the other.

A surge of energy filled the air with green light. Midoriya broke into a sprint, where the world turned into a blur of colour. In the far reaches of her mind, (Y/n) sensed Kibutsuji stir faintly. She pushed him away with all her might, focusing on the gate, the whipping wind in her face as she shut her eyes tight and held on to Midoroya's arm.

The world began to fade as they passed through the gate. (Y/n) collapsed on the ground, head spinning.

"Chisaki!"

The last thing she saw were those green, green eyes.

Modern Era Secrets!

-Midoriya is still scared of you but wants to get to know you better. He thinks you're super cool!

-Yoriichi feels really bad for beating you up and bullying you during the exam. He is going to apologize later.

-Michikatsu says Yoriichi should've been harsher since war is coming.

-Yushiro still has Tamayo's hairpin. It's displayed in the living room in a frame on the wall.

-Himejima fosters stray cats. When he trains other demon slayers, they like to hang out with the cats on break.

-Oyakata-sama is becoming sick again. Amane is very concerned for his health and takes very good care of him. She is a very strong woman with a big heart!

Chapter Text

The infirmary was a familiar sight. (Y/n) sat up, eyeing Yoriichi who sat beside her bed, fast asleep. She sensed his weariness, his exhaustion from keeping watch while she slept. To her left was Bakugou, who stared out the window silently. The setting sun cast golden hues across his bandaged skin, settling upon him almost serenely.

At the last bed was Midoriya, who remained sound asleep.

(Y/n)'s mind wandered to the exam, the final moments where Bakugou had given his all to get her to the exit. That was rather...noble for someone so brash and rude and--

"You're a fucking try hard." Bakugou's voice came out as a low growl, yet softer than his usual yelling. His weariness got to him, calming the anger in his heart. "I can't believe you. The hell was that super speed? That strength? That can't be part of your Quirk."

(Y/n) heaved out a breath. She didn't need to share any details. As a Hashira, her duty to protect her juniors included the very annoying, very cocky Bakugou Katsuki. That meant not roping him into her problems.

Bakugou turned to face (Y/n), scowling at her silence. "Who are you, Chisaki?" 

She frowned, brows knit. "Your classmate?" Bakugou sucked his teeth, but he sounded more frustrated than annoyed. "Then why the fuck do you act so damn different? You're not normal."

Ah, was it that obvious? (Y/n) stilled, listening to Yoriichi's soft snores as he slept. She closed her eyes, thinking back to the years of training, the grueling nights spent hunting for her prey.

She was not normal and never would be. (Y/n) was a killer, the blood on her hands was proof enough, proof of her failures, her worst fears, and the fact that she did not belong here.

It was like being laid bare, skinned alive to be thrown to the wolves. She did not belong her, and never would for that matter.

Bakugou sure seemed to believe that. He looked at her as if she were an anomaly, a thing that couldn't possibly be real. "Say something." he stated. "You must've been assigned here or something, right? Like a spy? Why else were you recommended by Hawks, the number three hero?"

(Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat and she opend her mouth, only to close it. "I don't belong here." she solemnly admitted. "I may be your classmate and your rival, but I am not like you. Or anyone for that matter. You would be disgusted if you knew just who I really am."

Bakugou's intense gaze burned like a raging fire. Merciless and wild. "And what is that?" 

"A monster."

Yoriichi suddenly awoke, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He stifled a yawn, surveying the room curiously as Bakugou turned away. He pretended as if the conversation never happened and grumpily laid back down on his side.

A deep, worn frown fell upon (Y/n)'s lips. She remained composed, even when her heart turned ice cold. "Am I allowed to leave now?" 

Yoriichi smiled softly, giving her a pat on the head. "Of course. Your uncle must be worried sick."

Home was a funny word. The estate, once filled with so much life, was cold and empty. In the centre of the common room stood Yushiro, pacing and grumbling to himself incoherently. Chachamaru meowed at his feet, crying out to soothe his companion.

The door suddenly opened with a creak and (Y/n) slid off her shoes, sighing to herself. "Tadaima." 

Arms were suddenly wrapped around her, tenderly pulling her close. Her bookbag dropped to the floor, limp as (Y/n)'s eyes widened. "Oji-san?" 

"O-kaeri." Yushiro let out a short breath of relief, Chachamaru meowing in agreement. The cat purred against (Y/n)'s legs, swishing his tail back and forth. 

Hesitantly, (Y/n) returned the hug, the scent of tea and cherry blossoms filtering into her senses. She knew this peace was fragile, short-lived when her life could be ended with the flick of a blade. A frown fell upon her lips and she shut her eyes, allowing the smallest bit of vulnerability to melt through. 

(Y/n) awkwardly stood at the edge of the dance floor, bright strobe lights and DJ music blasting in her ears. She watched as Fushiguro stood and motioned for her to follow him to an empty table, where they took a seat across from each other.

"So, where is it?" she quickly said. "I knew you were busy these days, but had no idea it was with gambling."

A snort escaped Fushiguro's lips. He took a swig of whatever drink was in his cup and wiped at his scarred lip. "Always straight to business. You got the fee?"

"Tell me where first."

Fushiguro let out a gruff sound and pulled out a crumpled receipt. He scribbled something down and passed it over, "Aren't you supposed to be home getting ready for school? My son's a little older than you but I don't see him going to these sorts of places."

(Y/n) handed him a thick envelope, raising a brow. She didn't like how this man always compared her to his son, Megumi who, for the record, wasn't so great himself. "I'm not your son, am I? He used to beat up people in middle school and I didn't."

"But now you do." There was a knowing look on Fushiguro's face as he sat back in the booth. "Either way, you're lucky you didn't turn out like your brother."

A frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips and a pang made her chest hurt. She stood, brows knit. "It was nice doing business with you." She turned, but before she could leave, Fushiguro called out to her.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he inquired.

A laugh escaped (Y/n)'s lips, cold, hard. "Why wouldn't I?"

There was doubt in Fushiguro's eyes, but he didn't pursue the thought dancing in his mind; the looming sense of death hanging in the air. As much as a gambler he was, there was no need to do so with life. After all, he had two kids waiting for him at home and a beautiful, loving wife. "Stay ahead of your game, got it? One misstep is all it takes."

"Of course." (Y/n) bowed and turned. As her figure retreated through the crowded dance floor, he took a swig of his lemonade, shaking his head. What else could he expect from a Yakuza's daughter? She was bound to get into trouble whether he liked it or not. It was a matter of if she could survive it all that counted.

Well, whatever happened, Fushiguro had a feeling she would be just fine.

(Y/n) weaved her way through the crowded bar. The stench of alcohol, sweaty clubbers, and grime made her head spin. Sweat gathered at her brow, threatening to roll down her face as she clutched the slip of paper between a clenched fist. She held her breath, trying not to breathe the rancid air so humid and musty.

The front doors swung open and she slipped away down a quiet road, heaving in the cool night air. At the end of the street stood a man with a scar at his temple and sunglasses hung around his collar--Kenji. He stepped in the car and it revved to life as (Y/n) hopped into the back. She watched the city pass in a blur, only turning her gaze away to hand over the paper to Tetsuya in the passenger seat.

"The wharf?" he said, raising a brow. "Usually they're more inland."

(Y/n) could only shrug. "That's what Fushiguro-san told me." It was more surprising the man still gambled after he claimed to have settled down with his wife and children. The man had been chowing down on the buffet of his life, slamming down bills and taking a stab at chance with his very life savings.

As if reading her mind, a look of disappointment fell over Tetsuya's face. "That guy's had it rough. If it weren't for our boss, he would've been homeless for good. It's nice knowing he has our back. You're the only one with a quirk, (Y/n)-chan, so the more the merrier."

Well, even with a Quirk, it wasn't like (Y/n) was invincible. She still had Kibutsuji on the prowl, and whatever was left of his goons. Taking on the entirety of the Hassaikai meant serious trouble, one she wasn't sure she could conquer on her own. A sigh escaped her lips as the car made a turn towards the wharf, "I just don't want to run into the eight clowns again..."

A snort escaped Kenji's lips and the car came to a smooth stop. "Couldn't have agreed more."

Salty ocean air greeted (Y/n) as she stepped out into the night. She pulled her black hoodie tighter, eyeing the wooden walkway. A single lamp stood overhead, its warm light dim and timid. To her left stood a large warehouse, creaky and rusty. It stood out amongst the others as the only rundown building in the area. Maybe it was cheap to rent, which was why Overhaul chose this specific location.

"It's a miracle they haven't torn this thing down," Tetsuya said with a grimace. He made his way forward and pulled at the lock. "Anyone good at puzzles?"

(Y/n) overhauled the lock. "No need." It fell to the ground in little scraps as she kicked open the rusty door. Dust flew into the air and a cough escaped her lips.

Kenji pulled out a flashlight, "The boxes are new. The rest looks like it's about to rot."

(Y/n) waved a hand in front of her face, eyeing the crates hastily stacked in loading palettes. The rest of the warehouse was void of life, empty save for disorganized piles of cardboard boxes. Her skin itched just looking at all the filth beneath her feet and in the air. "There was something else Fushiguro-san said," --she overhauled the lid of a crate and began sifting through its contents-- "the bullets are spread throughout Japan. Not sure why, but I believe Kurono is the only one in our area."

Which was odd considering the circumstances. With little supply to sell on the market, why not protect everything at once instead of tossing it around nationally? Unless the goal was to spread influence? Maybe they were looking for something? Or perhaps, someone?

"(Y/n)-chan, you've gotta see this."

She made her way over to Tetsuya, who shone his phone over a label reading, Project Zero. Various medical instruments sat in the crate, neatly bundled in paper and bubble wrap. Each package was labelled meticulously, clearly Kai's handwriting, with chemicals and various versions of the same drug.

It was normal to hit supply chains at the source, snatch whatever goods had been distributed in that location, and destroy it all. But trial drugs, tools, and all things one would expect to find in a lab?

"I think they're moving their equipment." Tetsuya concluded, opening another box. "Some of these are just plain cardboard. They aren't well-protected either. Kind of like they wanted us to find it."

The sound of water hitting the dirty ground was rhythmic. A soft, tap, tap, tap that made the hair on (Y/n)'s neck stand on end. She turned and was met face-to-face with a masked man in a raincoat.

Hari.

He stepped into the warehouse, his shadow casting long, willowy shapes across the walls. A gun gleamed in his hand, which he pointed to (Y/n)'s head. She slowly raised her hands, face twisting into a sneer. "How'd you know? Fushiguro?"

Hari cautiously stepping forward. "I told you last time to stop getting into our business. Why do you keep showing up?"

The barrel now rested against (Y/n)'s forehead. She knew Hari couldn't pull it, he didn't have the guts to do it. It was just like him to dodge her questions. "I'll stop showing up once you tell me where Eri is."

A long, long sigh escaped Hari's lips. Just as he opened his mouth to talk, Tetsuya tackled him. "(Y/n)-chan! Run!"

"Get off me, you idiot!"

The gun clattered to the floor, sliding to a far side of the dark warehouse. (Y/n) blindly jumped into the darkness, following the direction the gun went as a wrestling match started behind her.

"I'll show you what it means to hurt (Y/n)-chan!"

"Are you crazy?! I wasn't gonna shoot her!"

"You dirty liar!"

The sound of fist fighting echoed in the background as (Y/n) picked up the gun. Her fingers caught on something sharp and she hissed as blood dripped down her palm. Hari shoved Tetsuya off him with a shout and sprinted forward, making a mad grab for (Y/n)'s wrist. She dodged, leaping out of the way as blood dripped down her palm.

The rev of an engine sounded outside and tires screeched as a sleek car burst into the warehouse, toppling over merchandise and delicate equipment as Hari let out a scream. "MY STUFF! ARE YOU CRAZY?!" His soul must have shattered at the sight of broken science equipment.

Kenji rolled down the window, pushing his sunglasses up onto his forehead. "We're leaving!"

(Y/n) wasted no time in sprinting to the car, Tetsuya at her heels. She motioned for him to get behind her as an arrow-shaped lock of hair soared straight towards her arms. She tapped her bloody hand to the ground, erecting a wall before leaping out of the way. Tetsuya had already gotten into the car, shouting hurriedly as (Y/n) piled herself in the back. The door slammed shut and Kenji sped off into the night.

Behind, a shiny black van took off after them. Gunshots rang out in the night, a piercing sound that cut through the quiet.

"What are you doing?!" shouted Hari from the warehouse. "I told you not to shoot!"

At that, the van in pursuit rolled down their windows and came to a slow stop. Whoever was in the car engaged conversation with Hari, who continued shouting at them angrily. His figure soon faded as nothing but a small dot in the night.

(Y/n) turned the gun in her hands, fiddling with the thing until something popped out. That must have been the magazine. She held it up, only to realise...

...it was empty.

In fact, it didn't even look as real as the one Oyaji used to carry when they went out. "Te-chan, what kind of gun is this?" She handed it to him, peering over the passenger seat as he studied the weapon.

Confusion fell upon his face and he sucked his teeth. "That bastard!" He flopped down in his chair, shoulders slumping. "This isn't real, it's a toy!"

(Y/n) shook her head, dumbfounded. So Hari wasn't lying when he said he didn't want to hurt her. But what of those theatrics? Was it to appeal to whoever was with him? Still, if he knew she had been coming, then did that mean he got to Fushiguro before she did?

Whatever the case...

They all had walked straight into a trap.

At the warehouse, Hari let out a huff to himself. He stared at the droplets of blood across the ground and on his clothes. It wasn't the best sample they could get, but at least it was something.

Hari placed his phone to his ear, lips pressed thin. "I got the sample. We're headinf back to the lab now."

---

(Y/n) flopped down in the living room, watching as Yushiro tended to a crackling fire in the kitchen. He set a pot over it and began stirring its contents, eyes narrowed. "You've been out a lot recently at night."

(Y/n) stared at the tatami mats, avoiding eye contact. "I got home alive, like I said I would." 

"That's true," Yushiro decided with a nod. He didn't take his eyes off the crackling fires. "Your exam scores came in the mail. I took the liberty of reading them, and as expected, you passed. Barely." A vein seemed to pop out of his forehead, but maybe that was just the bad lighting. "Clearly you didn't check your math because four to the third power is not twelve." 

Ah, Aizawa Sensei must have put the exams in the mail with the scores. That bastard. (Y/n) barely stood a chance with how many years had been ticked off her life in the Taisho Era. "I still passed. It could have been worse."

"Which means you'll be going to the summer camp without supplemental classes. How lucky of you." Yushiro shook his head to himself. He couldn't help but worry. "It's just like U.A. to keep you all busy even on break... I was hoping you'd have some time off instead." 

Which was rare, even when (Y/n) wasn't a student. "I've always been busy, Oji-san."

An ocean of worry flashed in Yushiro's eyes, stormy and raging. He didn't comment on that. "They sent a packing list too. Read over it, I'll take you shopping this weekend." 

(Y/n)'s lips curved into a small smile. Her heart warmed, "You'll go shopping with me? I didn't know you tolerated that sort of thing." 

A tsk escaped Yushiro's lips and he motioned for her to come eat. Chachamaru lept into her arms and she made her way over to the kitchen. As (Y/n) took a seat by a small table, she watched Yushiro from the corner of her eyes. There was something bothering him, and he wasn't doing a good job at hiding it. Fiddling with a pair of chopsticks, muttering under his breath. 

"What's wrong?"

Yushiro snapped out of his stupor and handed (Y/n) a bowl of cold soba. His eyes remained cloudy, "Why do you ask?" (Y/n) shook her head, sizing him up and down. It was pretty obvious to them both he wasn't a good liar. The guy was just too outspoken when it came to important things. 

"Fine. No secrets," Yushiro suddenly stated. "And no lies, understood?" 

"Alright."

"I've been working on a medicine that will hopefully turn you back into a human. I'm sure you've already begun to figure it out, but working on it has taken a toll. Progress is slow. I can’t help but blame myself, I was only an assistant, I don't have Tamayo-sama's understanding of DNA. If I had done more, then perhaps I could do more. It is all up to the Insect Hashira."

Yushiro's strange behaviour finally made sense. No wonder why he'd been so...affectionate lately.

"Shinobu-san is alive?" (Y/n) inquired, blinking to process. "That's good news."

Yushiro didn't seem to think so. "We are currently lab partners, she's...unusual. Besides that, I've recently been in contact with Tsugikuni Sensei. He has reassured me that he will keep an eye on you during the summer camp."

Well, that was a surprise. Not to say it was unwelcome, but having Tsugikuni Sensei around could be…overwhelming. His presence like the sun was so radiant it commanded all attention to him. He was all-consuming, yet gentle as a ray of light. "I see," (Y/n) didn't think this was a good thing, "I assume it's in case anything happens."

Yushiro took a sip of tea thoughtfully. The unsaid sat on his tongue as he mulled about the possibilities of this school trip. Kibutsuji had grown in power recently, and his kind increased against his will. It was a sign of trouble. A sign that something dark was on the rise. 

"You will be alright," Yushiro wasn't sure if he were just saying that to himself, "I'm sure."

—-

Rain pelted against Sanemi's face, trailing down his cheeks as he gave the nichirin a swing. Currents of wind whipped through the trees, where a head tumbled to the ground at his feet. Disgust flashed in his wide eyes, so merciless and hot with anger. 

"Where do they keep coming from?" Sanemi sheathed his blade, wiping the rain from his eyes. "There are only three known demons alive. They shouldn't be appearing." 

And yet, like roaches, they seemed to sprout from the most unlikely conditions. Against all odds, those that walked the night had risen from near extinction.

Obanai kicked at a rock, teeth grit. "Having quirks and blood demon arts make our job all the more difficult. They're stronger than before, even the lower levels." In the blink of an eye, he had swung his blade, decapitating the other demon that had attempted to flee the scene. It turned to ash, nothing more than dirt beneath his shoes. "Still, none are as troublesome as the Twelve Kizuki." 

"Don't make me gag." Sanemi began down the soggy path, boots sloshing in the rain. "I'm beginning to wonder if this has to do with quirks themselves. It's weird they exist at all." 

After all, they were reminiscent of Blood Demon Arts. How was it quirks appeared from some strange, unexplored phenomenon? No one understood where they came from, or how. Like magic.

Overhead, two kasugai crows cawed. They soared through the rain, leading the two hashira through the stormy weather. From the brush, Muichiro emerged, an umbrella in hand as he followed after the two. 

It was strange--why had three hashira been sent to this location if only to slay lower level demons? None of this made national television, as it would only cause panic, and hadn't become such a widespread problem that it needed to either.

All three of the hashira paused. The air had grown colder and the rain pelting overhead froze into sleet. A laugh eechoed hrough the forest, ringing so clearly like a bell. It soon faded, leaving only its haunting sound. 

The kasugai crows were oddly quiet now, instead, hovering close to the ground in fear. 

"An Upper Moon," one said. "An Upper Moon was here." 

The trees spoke for themselves, where a heavy wind whistled through the air, bringing with it waves of sleet. 

Sleet?, thought Sanemi.

How was this possible, in the middle of summer?

---

Kirishima was oddly quiet as he stepped into the classroom. He took a seat, resting his head in a hand with a defeated sigh. 

(Y/n) stood, brows knit as she stopped in front of his desk. "Grades?"

All Kirishima did was nod. "I failed," there was a crack in his voice, "I studied so hard, too. I thought Yaomomo's study session would help, but the practical..." He let out another sigh and scratched at his head. "This is so not manly! I swear, I locked in!"

The door slammed open to reveal Aizawa. "That's the bell. Be seated."

(Y/n) was faster than the man could blink. Aizawa frowned, sending her a sharp stare before taking his place at his desk. "Morning. As for your exams, sadly, we've had some failures." He paused, "Regardless, everyone's going to summer camp!"

Those who failed let out cries of relief. "What a twist!"

"Everyone cleared the written tests," Aizawa added. "But in the practical, Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido, Sato, and Sero all failed." He continued to explain how the practical was specifically designed to work against the students, as designed by the teachers.

Iida was practically shaking in his loafers. "Of course, as expected of U.A." He shot up, raising a hand stiffly. "But..! Now that you've lied to us twice, aren't you worried our faith in you has shaken?!"

A sigh escaped Uraraka's lips. "Way to be a wet blanket, Iida-kun..."

Aizawa remained unfazed. "Perhaps. But consider the facts, it wasn't entirely a lie. Failure is still failure and you five will receive special supplemental classes."

Those that had began celebrating stopped in their tracks.

"And to be honest, they'll be far worse than summer school. Anyway, I'll be handing out camp manuals." He passed over a stack of papers in each row and instructed for them to be passed down.

(Y/n) took her packet, brows knit. She recalled Yushiro offering to go shopping with her, but was he aware of all the things they instructed to purchase? Bug spray, a spacious duffel bag, comfortable sneakers already broken in (how specific), a swim suit, sunscreen, etc, etc. The list was practically endless for an entire week of camp.

Suddenly, Hagakure stood up. "Oh, I know!" She must have been smiling because she frantically waved her arms around excitedly. "We're off tomorrow and tests are over so what if we all went shopping together as a class?" The idea buzzed within the classroom, where shouts of agreement rang throughout the air.

Todoroki and Bakugou both declined, one was busy seeing his mother, and the other because he didn't want to go.

Mina, Kaminari, and Kirishima met (Y/n)'s gaze. They didn't look deterred by Bakugou's unwillingness to go shopping.

"Can you go?!"

"Say yes!"

"You're not busy, right?"

(Y/n) rested her head in a hand, face rising with heat. All this attention was making her woozy. "I already promised my oji-san I'd go with him. He seemed adamant"

Mina frowned, slumping. "Awwww. There's always next time." Then she paused, tilting her head to the side curiously. "Wait, your uncle? You two must be close."

(Y/n) thought of Yushiro's angry scowls and the endless lecturing he always had on hand. "I think so?" She let out a breath, "He doesn't show it, but I know he cares deeply. Maybe too much." 

Mina laughed and it brought a rosiness to her cheeks. "Aw, he's that type of person, huh? The one who pretends not to care but really does when it matters. That's so cute!" 

Kirishima held up a fist, tears dramatically leaking from his eyes. "And manly! An uncle who cares for his dear niece is the best type of family member!"

(Y/n)'s cheeks were warm. She felt a small smile twitching onto her lips as her eyes softened. "Yes, I think you're both right."

Kaminari grinned, gesturing to (Y/n)'s expression with a laugh. "Look! She's smiling! We did it guys, we did it!" The three of them all high fived and (Y/n) averted her gaze to the side. How nice it was, to have friends.

The final bell rang and everyone was off to rush back home in anticipation for freedom. (Y/n) made her way out of the gates, only for a sweet voice to call out to her.

"(Y/n)!" Hakuji was like a magnet, immediately swept to her side as they made their way down the street. "Are you busy today?" 

Her expression softened, warming like a sip of tea. "I always have time for you." The blush rising across Hakuji's cheeks made her chuckle. "What is it?"

"Do you..." He heaved in a breath, as if to gather his courage and quickly said, "Do you want to come over to my place for dinner?" 

The way Hakuji turned his gaze to the side made (Y/n) wonder what had him so bashful. She placed a hand to his burning cheek, pulling his gaze back towards her face. For a moment, his blue, blue eyes flashed that persimmon orange. "Of course I'll go," she smiled, "let me call oji-san first."

After a few rings, Yushiro picked up. He warned her of any funny business and reminded her that her blood was valuable. Then he wished her well and hung up. 

Funny. She expected more fuss, especially since he was practically ancient and probably wanted a chaperone along.

Hakuji, with his demon hearing, had heard the whole thing. Clearly, Yushiro intended for that to happen with how obnoxiously he had spoken. "Sorry if I'm causing you trouble, (Y/n)." 

She took a good look at Hakuji's face. The way his ears reddened, the difficulty he had keeping eye contact. "Ever since I've met you in the present, I've noticed you're easier to read," she noted. "You look bothered and you've gotten bad at hiding it."

A frown pulled at Hakuji's lips, sweat threatening to build on his forehead. It had been a while since it was only the two of them (without Kyojurou as a third wheel). What was more, he couldn't get Muzan's words out of his head. 

"Nothing's wrong." Hakuji took (Y/n) by the hand. "Come on, we have to catch a train." 

The train ride wasn't any better. Rush hour meant squeezing into the carriage, pressed up against the doors and other passengers like sardines. (Y/n)'s head hit Hakuji's firm chest and he placed a hand over her head, pulling her close so she wasn't smooshed by a salaryman.

Besides, if anyone touched his girl, it was on site. 

The train came to a stop and they made their way through town. With the lack of bustling crowds and workers hurrying home, it was oddly...awkward.

Yes, awkward. How strange considering it had always been just the two of them, alone in that snowy forest, for so many years.

(Y/n) couldn't help the heat rising up her neck. She tried not to think about how sweaty her hand was getting in Hakuji's, or the fact that she was going to meet his family in the next ten minutes. His actually real reincarnated family she knew little to nothing about.

"I'm nervous now," she quietly admitted. "I never thought anything could shake me as badly as fighting Tsugikuni Sensei." 

A chuckle escaped Hakuji's lips and he grinned. "Oh-ho? The great Ice Hashira, trembling in her shoes all because she's about to meet my family? How the mighty have fallen." 

"I see someone's gained their wits back," (Y/n) huffed. "And I can tell you're nervous too. You're sweating as bad as me." Her flat tone made Hakuji falter, to which she laughed. "We've faced scarier things."

"Like the time I thought you almost died..." 

"Or the time you actually died..."

"Or when..."

"Yeah, that was kinda..."

The mention of death made the two sigh. (Y/n) hummed to herself, shaking her head. Images of that night in the Infinity Castle flashed in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking them away. "Now we're here together," she quietly said. "I couldn't be more grateful."

Hakuji's eyes softened and he gave (Y/n)'s hand a gentle squeeze. "As am I. There is no one else I'd rather spend my life beside."

The house came into view. It was normal sized for any three family, with a gate, two stories, and what looked to be a small yard in the back. Hakuji held the gate open for (Y/n). 

Her breath caught in her throat as Hakuji fiddled with his keys. Then the sound of pattering feet sounded from inside and the door was nearly ripped off its hinges. A young girl, probably a middle schooler, stood in her uniform. She smiled wide, stars in her dark eyes. She had a short bob and bangs pinned back by a snowman hairclip. 

"Woah," the girl's jaw opened. "She's too pretty for you, Haku-nii!" 

Hakuji's cheeks reddened and he placed a hand to his forehead in exasperation. "Ignore what she said. This is my sister, Koyuki. Koyuki, this is (Y/n)." The two made their way inside and removed their shoes. The door shut quietly as Koyuki smiled excitedly. 

"I can't believe I'm here to see the day Haku-nii brings home a girl." Koyuki's comments were innocent enough, yet the spark in her eyes said otherwise.

(Y/n) sensed her weak energy. She wondered if this girl grew up sickly. "It's nice to meet you, too." She tried for a smile and it was awkward. "Uh, you're very sweet."

Hakuji raised a brow and (Y/n) placed a hand over her face with a sigh. She wasn't very socially adept.

In the dining room, a man with a low ponytail and sweats turned off the stove. He turned and his eyes widened. "Wait a minute."

(Y/n) blinked, pausing. She recalled that snowy day in the weapons shop, where she beat up some dude because of a bet. "Aren't you the man I beat up in that store?" 

A laugh escaped Keizo's lips and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Small world, huh? Who knew the girl you'd bring home was gonna be this powerhouse? Hakuji, you have to spar with her. She's incredible." 

There was a knowing look in Hakuji's eyes. Memories that danced in his mind fondly. "You'll have to come by the dojo sometime," he said with a smile. "Of course, if you're willing to be wiped on the floor." 

(Y/n) hummed to herself, eyes aglow. "I might just have to take you up on that deal." 

Dinner started normally--or as normal as (Y/n) could think. She was used to quiet these days since Yushiro was always gone. Sometimes, Chachamaru sat beside her, meowing happily as she ate.

Then there was, well...this.

"Haku-nii," said Koyuki with an innocent blink. "Did you find out (Y/n)'s birthday yet?" Embarrassment flashed over Hakuji's face and he pressed his lips into a thin line. Urgh, did he ever get a break?

"Let's talk about something else." he quickly said. "Why don't we play the quiet game?"

Koyuki only laughed and (Y/n) could see in her eyes that she was far from done. "My brother is a real idiot sometimes. You'll have to forgive him, he's kind of slow." 

Keizo laughed heartily and took a sip of tea. "Now, now, why don't we be nice? Although, I do say, Hakuji, you need to up your game." 

The father and daughter shared a laugh together that made (Y/n)'s expression soften. She felt her shoulders relax, the tension on her face slowly ease. This family was a riot, but it was clear they meant well. 

"So," Keizo motioned between the couple, "how did you two meet?" 

(Y/n) spared a glance to Hakuji, who spared a glance back.

Right. How does one explain they met in a snowy forest after she murdered someone with her Quirk? What kind of maniac picks up said girl and goes, yeah, I want to become friends with her, she's really cool. 

News flash, no one says that. 

Thankfully, Hakuji spoke up first. "We met while outside." he quickly said. (Y/n) kept her poker face, but one glance into her molten eyes was a dead giveaway for Hakuji. He could already see the frantic way she would tell him, 'what are you thinking?!'. 

Because yeah, Hakuji wasn't thinking. Outside? Who even says that? He made it sound like he never got out to touch grass.

Thankfully, his father was none the wiser. He smiled wide and laughed, "Oh, I see. It must have been special then, huh? I'm guessing you met from a friend of a friend?" 

(Y/n) took a sip of tea, prompting Hakuji to continue. He was the one who invited her, so it was now his problem. "Yes!" Hakuji quickly added. "Uh, we met because of Kyojurou." 

And so started the lie of this century. Where did you two meet? By the convenience store of course! Where else? Not like they would cross paths at school since (Y/n) was a first year! Ha. Ha. Ha. How did (Y/n) meet Kyojurou? Oh, they went to the same middle school together! 

Right. This was believable. Very. Not that (Y/n) could have any objections when she was, for the time being, a bit tongue tied. It was crazy enough to know she beat up Hakuji's dad, but surprisingly, that left a good impression! Wow, if only fighting could solve all of (Y/n)'s problems so easily. 

The meal went smoothly and ended with Keizo and Koyuki asking for another family dinner together. Wow. What a night.

Hakuji drove (Y/n) to the outskirts of town that night, as close as he could to her old residence hidden in the trees. "I hope that wasn't too much for you," he aplogetically said. "My family can be..."

"Wonderful." The softness of (Y/n)'s eyes was like the first snow of winter. Gentle, and sweet. She smiled, "Thank you for inviting me. I'm glad that I got to meet your family, even if it's centuries later." 

A chuckle escaped Hakuji's lips. In the moonlight, his eyes glowed persimmon, where the Kanji for Upper Moon Three lay etched on the surface. (Y/n) tried not to think about that, how her beloved was in the clutches of her greatest enemy. Yet the words left her mouth anyway. "Are you afraid of him?" 

The sudden question caught Akaza off guard. He paused, heaving out a short breath. "I don't fear nor revere that man," he quietly said. "But I fear things may begin to change faster than I'd appreciate." Ever so tenderly, Akaza took (Y/n)'s hands in his. His touch was soft, loving. "No matter what happens, can you put your faith in me?" 

(Y/n) frowned and gave his hands a squeeze. She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, "You make it sound like I won't see you soon." A pang in her heart told her she had to be right. "Why?"

"(Y/n)," Akaza's eyes were soft with pleading, "can you trust me?" 

"Of course." There was no hesitation in (Y/n)'s voice. She never needed there to be when it was Akaza, always Akaza, she believed in. "I love you." She looked up to meet those beautiful eyes tender with love for her and only her.

"I love you too, (Y/n)." Slowly, ever so slowly, Akaza's soft lips connected with her own in a kiss. 

This was what it meant to be engulfed in love, engulfed in something so pure and true. No matter how the seasons changed, how dark the skies became, (Y/n) was sure that nothing could break the eternal bond they shared.

---

Shopping. (Y/n) wasn't too keen on such a normal thing when the list U.A. sent was so gosh dang long. With bustling crowds, busy streets, and the beating sun from above, one would think Yushiro would call it quits and go home. Today? His head was held high, his shoulders back. This was a man on a mission. A mission (Y/n) wished she could sit out.

"Use your legs. Come along, (Y/n), we have to make sure you're prepared for summer camp." Yushiro's eyes were sparkling as he went down the list. Maybe this was more so his mission than anything. "Bug spray, sneakers already broken in, a towel, training clothes..." His steps were light, quiet as any demon's.

For once, (Y/n) had trouble keeping up. She allowed herself to be dragged from store to store, where the bags on her shoulders quickly piled up. "Are we done yet?" The list was halfway checked off, mostly because (Y/n) already had most of the things needed. "I never thought you to be a big spender, Oji-san."

Yushiro let out a huff. "Don't be stupid. I only want to ensure you have what you need." He sighed dramatically and (Y/n) raised a brow, wondering if this was for his own entertainment. "What would you do without your Oji-san?"

(Y/n)'s shoulders slumped. Yes, this was for Yushiro's enjoyment. At least he seemed happy prancing around the mall. (Y/n) had to admit, it was a nice sight after seeing him come home every couple of days with bags under his eyes and pale skin. He looked like he were a foot in the grave.

Yushiro held up a bright red tracksuit and (Yn)'s lip curled in a mix of confusion and distaste. "Do you need this?"

(Y/n) pried it from his hands and stuffed it back where it came from. She searched through the carousals, producing a pair of shorts and a loose-fitting shirt. "I always wear the same things, perhaps changing it up isn't a bad thing?"

Yushiro shot a thumbs-up. (Y/n) swore she could see a star appear beside his head. She let out a small chuckle and handed the clothes to him. It was a nice change of pace from wearing kimono, uniforms, or hakama. After purchasing that last set of clothing, it was time to call it quits. Who knew shopping could be so exhausting?

Then a chill ran down (Y/n)'s spine. She paused in her step and glanced over her shoulder, only to come face-to-face with Kibutsuji. He seemed to stare right through her, as if she were invisible. (Y/n) followed his gaze, brows knit. Left and right, there were only groups of teenagers, families, and couples going about.

Then an odd presence filtered into the air like a foul stench. Death hung low, compressing the air until it became hard to breathe. Yushiro must have sensed it because his gaze narrowed. He took (Y/n) by the hand and before she could argue, he whisked her away, shopping bags bouncing around precariously in his hands.

"We leave now," he stated. "I refuse to allow you into trouble."

There was a familiar presence strong as the wind, piercing as a gale. (Y/n) spotted Sanemi racing through the crowds. "Has the Corps been following--?"

"No questions." Yushiro's words were curt. Judging by the purse of his lips, he was pretending not to notice. Good grief, this demon. It was clear he knew the Corps were in their vicinity, so why hide it? But one look at his tense expression made (Y/n) concede. "Alright, we can go home."

And all Yushiro did was sigh in relief. It was strange, really. He looked as if he had expected this to happen. His hold on (Y/n)'s hand was firm, as if he were dragging a child away from their favourite toy store. Yushiro knew (Y/n) well. If he didn't take her away now, she would rush head-first into battle and stir up trouble.

No one liked trouble though, right?

Taisho Era Secrets! 

-Kyojurou's father, Shinjuro, always disliked (Y/n) because she reminded him of his late wife. Idk he's also drunk all the time sooooo
-(Y/n) and Muichiro were particularly close even before he recalled his memories.
-Mitsuri thinks of (Y/n) as her little sister! After Kyojurou's death, she was always there for (Y/n) and helped her come to terms with the fact that she was going to be a Hashira!
-Sanemi has a soft spot for (Y/n). He isn't aware of it himself, but he is slightly nicer to her than the average person.
-Iguro is nice when he feels like it, meaning, he is moody. Since Mitsuri is fond of (Y/n), he tries not to insult her too much.

My spotify playlist for this story (this one is called You Fell In Love).

Please, if you can, support me on Ko-fi, it would be great!