Chapter Text
Five years ago, there was a battle between the number one hero and a villain who nearly bested him. For three weeks he was hospitalized, the world holding their breath even as other heroes took up the slack. But finally, he recovered, and after over a month without their hero, the public saw Deku once again.
His reintroduction to the public was made on the sidewalk outside his agency, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, looking oddly vulnerable. A veritable mass had gathered in anticipation of his return, and he'd stopped to talk to them, calmly discussing how he would be reacclimatizing to the position. He kept at it for a few minutes. Then he paused, looked down at his shuffling feet, and breathed in. “Let me tell you something,” he said. Whether consciously or not, most people leaned in. It was rare for the number one to go off on an impromptu speech, but he always started them this way. And, regardless of quality, they always received plenty of attention.
“There is a moment in each of our lives, when we each have a choice. Maybe we know it the moment it appears or maybe we only recognize it long after the moment has passed, learned only years after the fact. Speaking for myself, I only realized after someone else told me of what I’d done. Nonetheless, the moment comes, when we are heroes. It doesn’t have to be enormous, doesn’t have to be fighting villains.” Deku let out a long, wistful sigh, running his hands through his lengthy green hair, avoiding the shaggy portion of his undercut with care. Strands fell loose and bounced against his forehead.
“I was near death for almost a week, sitting in a hospital bed. It gave me a long time to think, about the sacrifices that the people treating me were taking, of their time and mental health, to help another person. Made me think about how so often we think of heroes as those who fight, and not those who aid. If I’m being honest, it’s the aspect of heroics I like least. I could probably go on about that for a long, long while, but I’m supposed to keep this short, so I’ll keep my rambling to a minimum.” That earned a few laughs from the assembled crowd. The number one’s lengthy tangents were something of a running gag in the hero community.
“I guess that what I’m really trying to say is: don’t be discouraged. Even if you don’t think you’re strong, you can be capable of great good, for everyone. And if you think you see that moment, run towards it. Because you can do it. I believe in that.”
***
“Come on, Hideki,” the girl pleaded to her phone, pacing her room. “The exam is in only a few days. We should use this time to be getting ready.” Moonlight pooled on the carpet and spilled onto small piles of books on the floor. She stepped about them with calloused feet. As she spoke her spare hand danced about, letting a mote of heat circumnavigate her wrist. The casual use of her power calmed her, helped keep her focused. And right now, she needed that. Her blood was bubbling, an excitement thrumming in her veins. She needed to move, needed to run. Needed to fight.
“A few days?” Hideki, her childhood friend, began, his voice soft and warm. “It’s in two days, Rei. What we should be doing is resting. Besides, the sort of stuff we were doing, I . . .”
Rei groaned and flopped onto her bed, thick crimson hair dancing across her vision. She pushed it all back, save for the slim strand of white that was normally hidden away. “Please tell me you aren’t getting cold feet.”
“Rei, we were acting as vigilantes.” Despite the low volume of his voice, there was an urgency pushed into Hideki's words. Rei imagined he was trying to keep his parents from overhearing them. Though, considering Rei knew that tonight was a night Uravity would be patrolling, she wondered why he bothered. His father was hard of hearing, and well known for disliking hearing aids when not absolutely necessary, save for when absolutely necessary, preferring instead to read lips. While Rei could confirm from experience that he was exceptionally skilled at this, it still left Hideki safer than Rei when it came to the chance of being overheard. It wasn’t too surprising though. Hideki had always been one of the most soft-spoken people Rei knew. Only her sister was quieter than him, but that wasn’t saying much. It was difficult to be softer spoken than a mute.
She let those thoughts go. Back to the matter at hand. “We were acting as heroes. You know, the type of people who we want to be?” There was a growl to the end of her question, mirroring the rise of her voice.
“I just—do you think that we tried to get into this too soon?”
“No.” Rei’s reply came quick. Clipped. A silence followed, during which Rei looked about her room. The walls were covered in posters and a stack of textbooks scavenged from yard sales and collegiate moving days. On her bedside table was a photo of her parent’s class from U.A., back during the tenth anniversary of their graduation. Three-year-old Rei could be seen nestled on her father’s shoulders, playing with red and white hair. The twins could be seen in her dad’s arms, right next to her father. She gave them a short glance before returning her attention to the man she had been atop. He had a weak smile, one he had yet to grow into, looking so sad despite the years away from his father. Even now, there were times when it looked like he had never learned how to smile.
It’s only through my love that your father managed to survive. Her grandfather’s words continued to echo throughout her mind. They had ever since they met in the hospital, the day her dad had been put into a coma. They hadn’t seen each other since then, five years ago, but the words remained, burned into her mind as though through the same flame he’d loosed against his son. The fire fueled her, kept her moving for the last half a decade. Kept her fighting.
“No,” Rei said once more. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready yet. There’s still a lot of training I want, I need, to go through for this. I need to be able to prove the bastard wrong.”
“Then talk to your parents about that. I’m sure they would be happy to train you.”
Rei almost laughed. The only time her father had helped teach her about her quirk was when it was all but threatening her life, and even then, his trepidation was astounding in its strength. “Not really. One doesn’t have the time, the other is ideologically opposed to the concept. The only way I’ve been able to ready myself is through my own action.” She twisted her free hand about as she spoke, clenching it and relishing in a strength which had been lacking when she first began ‘training’ a few years back. There were still scrapes across her fingers and a bloody stretch on her middle knuckle from where she’d landed poorly last week. It smarted, ever so slightly, and that alone made her blood sing. She admired the wound for a moment longer, before getting dragged back to the conversation.
“I just don’t think this is a good idea,” Hideki said. Rei could picture how the nervousness looked in his amber eyes. “I mean, you can go if you want. World knows I couldn’t stop you. I probably won’t get involved, though.”
Coward. She was quiet for a moment, running a hand through her hair, as she planned her next angle. There always was one, with Hideki. He was soft like that. “Do you really want to risk a friend getting hurt while you aren’t there to help? Come on, Hideki. Be a friend, please?”
On the other end, she could hear him sigh loudly. Inwardly, she thanked the fact that only his father would be home, certain that her friend’s muttered lamentation would remain unobserved. “Damn it,” he muttered, clearly aware of what was happening. Not that it mattered. Uraraka Hideki was easy enough prey to ensnare, even if the trap itself was visible. At least, that was Rei’s experience. Trying her damnedest to fight back a guilty smirk, Rei counted up slowly, getting to three before her friend continued. “I’ll make sure you don’t get into much trouble. Just don’t expect me to do anything else. I don’t want to make my parents upset.”
“Yeah, I get that. Thanks, Hideki. I’ll meet you at the station near you.” Before he could say anything else, Rei ended the call and stowed her phone. Stretched. Waited. Planned. Her father was out of the house on a night patrol, which made things substantially easier for her. Despite being the Symbol of Peace, her dad was always the one that was easier to sneak past. The fact that he fell asleep before ten like clockwork helped substantially. So long as she made sure she didn’t cause a ruckus while leaving, she would be fine. Go out for a few hours, maybe beat up a mugger or two, and get back home in time for a few hours of sleep. It would be the weekend then, and a day both of her parents had off—a rarity in itself. The ideal night.
She waited by the door for a few minutes without hearing anything before she moved again. She padded slowly across the carpeted floor and cracked open the closet door, rummaging about until she found the climbing gloves and an old armoured hoodie she’d scavenged. She took a moment to inspect the temperature monitor she’d fitted the thing with. It had taken several months to assemble the thing to her liking, spending weekend’s in Hideki’s family’s garage, figuring out exactly how to wire the thing up. Uncle Katsuki had once noticed all of the books she had put together for learning about the monitor and had asked if she was thinking of going into a support course. She smiled at the memory—he was always a pleasant individual to speak with.
From there, the rest was simple: grab the sneakers she’d snuck into her room, tie her hair up, and sneak out the window. The cool February air hit her as she cracked the window open and slipped out, edges of her fingers smarting as she pivoted and the grain bit into her skin. The wood was moist from last night’s rain. For a moment she hung there, feeling gravity’s pull, taunting it. Her blood sang, and with relish she fell.
It wasn’t a long fall, and she easily rolled, sliding across the grass in silence. It was a simple act, one of the first things she had learned when she began sneaking out, but even now it gave her great enjoyment, a ritual to begin the night. Simple, but enough to get her adrenaline to course. Everything felt a little clearer, a little sharper. Her breathing was elevated, just barely, a subtle harbinger. It echoed in her head. Made her smile.
Maybe that was why she missed the figure near her, slouched in a chair which was pressed against the house's outer wall. At least, she missed him until he stood up, straightened his shirt, and called out. “Uh, Rei? What are you doing?”
She spun on her heel, almost tripping as she turned to face the man. “Oh, hey Dad,” she began, voice creeping up slightly. “Didn’t know you were up.”
“Decided to wait up until your father got home,” he said, stepping closer into Rei's vision. He was slightly shorter than her, but nearly everyone was, and wore a thick flannel shirt that hid his muscular build. Specks of grey spattered his close-cut green hair, framing exhausted eyes which looked at her with both warmth and confusion. “But still, why did you just jump out your window? Cause it looks like you were trying to sneak out. Oh god you’re sneaking out, aren’t you?”
“Umm,” Rei began, struggling to think of something to say, something to defuse the situation with. Honesty, she eventually decided. Honesty enough that he grows complacent. “Yeah, sorry. Was gonna see Hideki. Should have asked, I know, but I figured you were already asleep.”
“Which is why you decided to sneak out at ten, with . . . I don’t even know how to describe that hoodie.”
“Latest fashion?” Rei supplied. She came to regret it only a moment later when he raised an eyebrow.
“Rei, I may lack a veracity quirk, but I can call bullshit when I see it. What is it? Partner you don’t want us to know about? I’m not gonna be mad.”
She sighed and tucked her hands into her pockets. In parallel, her dad picked awkwardly at the hem of his shirt. “Okay, sure.” She took in another breath. “I was gonna go out into the city. See what fights were going on. Help if there was a way I could. Learn some more before going to U.A.”
For a moment, she could see her father internalize what she had told him. She twisted her fingers into the sleeve of her hoodie, hoping beyond hope that he didn’t fully realize the implications. For a moment, she wished she had continued to lie. The thought was fleeting though. Not only would he see through her façade, but the notion sat ill within her. To be a hero without honesty, what would be the point?
Finally, he spoke. “Help . . . Rei, are you talking about acting as a vigilante?” Hesitantly, she nodded. “God damn it, Rei. You should know better than this. You’re, okay, I am actually a bit mad. Seriously, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that you had your way to train, well I figured this could be mine. Besides, what I’m doing cannot be worse than what you did at my age.”
“That’s not the point, Rei. You can’t just go around risking yourself like that. You haven’t been in a fight like those before—”
“But Hideki and I have—”
“Wait,” her dad said. The edge of his voice was beginning to rise, whether from concern or anger Rei couldn’t tell. “You’ve done this before. And with Hideki. Ok, I’ve heard enough, go inside.”
“What?” the word seemed stuck in her throat. “I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?”
Rei looked at her father for a long moment. Tried to push back thirty other things which she wanted to say. “Why are you upset at me? I’m doing the same thing as you are.” The smile which came across her dad’s face made her sick, a look which spoke of her as though she were a child. The face that he went for a hug right afterwards only made it worse, an irritant spiked into her blood. Made it screech, exacerbated by the security which the embrace brought.
He spoke again when they separated. “I know you think it’s the same thing, but it really isn’t. I can explain it to you in a bit, but go wait in your room, okay? I have a call I need to make first.”
“Yeah, sure,” Rei lied, trying to keep her voice neutral. He was just worried for her, which was natural. He’d come around, she just had to show him. Had to show him she knew what she was doing. With an effort to look calm, she nodded and walked into the house. For a moment she waited in the living room, and when she heard him start talking with somebody else, she made her move to the front door.
***
For many people, there’s a moment when they can look back at their life and realize the extent by which it changed. Toga Himiko had already experienced that moment once, a decade ago, when she’d come face to face with Uravity and that woman hadn’t recognized her, speaking to her like she was just any other civilian. That had been the moment she knew she was free of the mistakes of her past. The nightmares faded after that.
This may not have been that moment, but she felt it was a close second. Standing around in a pub in Akita with her coworkers, some darts in her hand. She listened idly as their newest coworker, some kid from Hiroshima, was talking about his university experiences. As he spoke, he took his throws, nailing a dart in the outer bull and one in the treble eighteen. After a moment, the last hit the bull.
Himiko gave an approving nod. When the group had decided to go out for dinner, the boy had challenged her to a match, apparently having heard of her unmatched winning streak. Or he’d seen Abe Aya—the alias she created upon going into hiding—scattered across the winner’s board. Either way, he seemed to be something of a challenge.
“Your move, Abe-san,” he said, flicking one of his darts about in his fingers. “Let’s see if you’re as good as they say you are.”
Back at the table, one of Himiko’s other coworkers, Ayoma Mikomi, barely held back a laugh. The fifty-year-old took a moment to drink before calling out. “Your funeral, Awaji-kun.” Awaji, right. That was his name. She noticed how he bristled at the honorific but remained silent. The young man was probably hoping to start being respected for his own, being treated as an adult. No such luck with Mikomi though. Once she was off the clock, everything was as informal as could be: it took only three months before Himiko was being referred to as Aya.
“He did well,” Himiko offered. “That was a good shot,” she added, making sure to address Awaji as she spoke. Behind him, Himiko could see Mikomi raise an eyebrow into the edge of her light brown hair. Himiko shrugged, disguising the movement by turning towards the board. Mikomi cracked then, ducking her head into her drink to hide her laugh.
“Alright Abe-san. Go on,” Awaji said, crossing his arms as he leaned against their booth. She took her place, brushed a thumb over the feathering of a dart, and give him a slight smile.
Then, without blinking, she nailed all three into the triple treble twenty, and took a step back.
“So that leaves you with four-hundred-and-eight points to go,” Himiko began as she collected their darts, stuffing his into his hand as she sat back down. “And me with three-hundred-twenty-one.”
“Huh,” Awaji murmured, reaching up to scratch his cheek and wipe the surprised expression of his face. “Wait, how many of your games were nine-dart finishes?” She thought on the matter for a few seconds before raising four fingers up. His eyes widened. “Holy shit.”
“You’re gonna have to get used to that,” Mikomi replied, voice light. Himiko looked over and caught a twinkle in her eyes as she spoke. “I remember when Aya managed to hustle a bunch of jackasses in one go—managed to get over twenty-thousand yen that night alone.” A whistle came from one of their other coworkers, and finally, Himiko addressed them, shrugging loosely and taking a draught from her Guinness. She had to wipe a bit of foam off her lip afterwards.
“It really isn’t much.” Really, this is child’s play. I once pinned someone to a tree with a syringe, and you think that this is good? But of course, you hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen how she’d bled—no, stay in the moment. “Just a party trick I picked up.”
“No, but really, that’s almost quirk-like with how good that is. Reminds me of—oh, who is that hero that was really famous with throwing weapons?”
Himiko shrugged and took the moment to take another drink. “I have no idea. Heroes, villains, I don’t really give a crap about any of that stuff,” she answered, entirely truthfully. Awaji made a noise of disbelief, and she continued. “No, seriously. I mean, I was more into that stuff when I was a child, but I haven’t really thought about it since I got my job.” Haven’t thought about it by choice. Can’t get dragged into the past. Have to keep moving forward.
Awaji hummed in thought. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. You did strike me as the sort to take your work very seriously. I mean, you’ve got the whole ‘unmarried career woman’ vibe around you—not that that’s a bad thing,” he added after she gave him a look. “If you don’t mind me asking, is your quirk in any way related to aiming.”
“You’d think that, but nah. Like I said, just a trick I learned. My quirk is a better than average immune system.” At least, that was what Abe Aya was registered as having. It had to have some degree of truth—she’d never gotten sick despite interacting with so much blood, and without proper sanitary equipment. “Yours?”
“I can swap types of vision,” he supplied, and after questioning looks from the two women, continued. “My vision is normally perfect, both in terms of colour and clarity, but I can alter my vision to change those elements. Give myself colourblindness, make myself need glasses, the like. It’s really pointless. Not as bad as the kid whose quirk made everyone around him constantly hear Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go) though, so I take my blessing where I can.” Himiko shuddered as she thought back to when she’d first heard that story. Poor kid.
“Horrifying tangent aside,” Mikomi began. “How are you settling in? The kids not giving you any trouble?”
“No, they’re all wonderful,” he said. “And how about you both? What’s it like taking care of the older kids.”
“As fantastic as yours,” Himiko replied, playing with her shirt sleeve. There was a scar along her left hand, from where she’d been injured back during her days with the Society. It was a wide, ugly thing, traveling up her arm to her elbow. She hid it under long sleeves at all times avoiding questions whenever she could. Once she was sure it was invisible, she continued speaking. “One of the students in my homeroom, Nanga Tama, is actually going to be trying out for U.A. here in a few days.” The rest of the group gave a small cheer, raising a toast to the student. Himiko smiled and raised her glass to join them. “But yeah, couldn’t have asked for better from this job.” God, and wasn’t that true. Gone were the days of not knowing where she’d sleep or eat. Gone were the days when she’d spend the entire day terrified of a hero raid. She actually sometimes felt able to sleep in now. Sometimes. On weekends. When she didn’t have anything to grade.
She’d first gone into hiding two years after she’d first joined the League, vanishing in a prison riot after she had been captured. Several fistfuls of vital, and accurate, information had bought her some degree of comfort when she was inside, and—she liked to think—made the authorities less zealous in their hunt for her. And then one of her last friends in the underground had gotten her the identity of Abe Aya and enough money to get herself restarted. And from there everything had, somehow, fallen into place.
A soft beeping brought Himiko out of her reverie, and she looked down at her watch.
“What is it?” Mikomi asked.
“Not much. Just a reminder that I need to take my meds.” As she spoke, Himiko began digging the pill bottle out of her purse. After the other woman gave her a concerned look, she continued. “It’s nothing bad. I just have some problems with my neurochemistry. Brain doesn’t produce enough of some important chemicals. Caused me a lot of problems when I was younger.”
“If you can’t make your own dopamine, store bought is fine,” Awaji mused. Himiko nodded along to his sagacious comment. “Is that chill to take with alcohol?”
“Hasn’t fucked me yet.” As she spoke, she downed two of the pills and chased them with a draught of Guinness. She left her explanation there. Delving into the other elements of her mental state which led to this carefree attitude would take too long—and would risk discussing her past. Such was out of the question.
“Are you sure that’s the best attitude to take?” he asked, and Himiko replied with another of her trademarked shrugs before draining her glass.
“She’s messing with you,” Mikomi said, just as Awaji was about to launch into a further statement. “She made it clear to me that they don’t interact after I got really worried for her once. You’re working with a true villain, that one. Be careful with her.” Awaji looked over with a playful smirk and Himiko, unsure of what else to do, gave a smile like the ones from her time in the Society. It felt wrong, and she quickly shed it, ducking her head and pretending to laugh. Her stomach hurt, and as she straightened, she felt everything go cold. Froppy. The girl I pinned to that tree ended up being Froppy. She was as old as my students are now. You bled her, bled her near dry. You bled them all, there is blood on your—
“I need to go.” Her voice was cold. Before she could even finish talking, she was already standing up, tossing some money over to Mikomi. “Sorry about this, I did have a good time.”
“No worries Aya,” Mikomi said. “Text me when you get home, alright? Wanna make sure you’re safe.” Himiko nodded mutely and continued on. She waved goodbye to the barkeeper as she was leaving and tugged her jean jacket on.
The night was cold, even by the standards of northern Japan, and a faint snowfall could be seen fluttering to the ground. She ignored them as she walked, stuffing her hands deep into her pockets. The cold forced her back to the present, back to Akita. Despite herself, she felt the desire to cry welling up. It’s been so long, why can’t I just have a break? Don’t I deserve one at this point?
It took a few minutes for her to get back to her apartment, and by the time she had done so she had gotten the majority of her breathing under control, tears dry. She could handle this. She’d done so before. She shut the door with more force than was necessary. Calico, a stray she’d wandered across, came running at the sound and bounded onto her leg. “Yeah bitch, I’m still alive. Sorry to disappoint you.” Calico responded by rubbing up against her leg before retreating further into the apartment. “Not sure why you’d bother anyways. Not like I put you down in the will.”
She spent the rest of the night grading essays, trying her damnedest to put the memories behind her. The past was the past. And Himiko was never going back to it.