Chapter Text
Kendo's only really heard of the kid in passing.
It's mainly been complaints. Blah, blah, blah, she's ran off again. Blah, blah, blah, it took hours to find her this time, that time, blah. He barely pays it any mind, nearly aching with his hunger for a good fight. It’s really the only thing keeping him on the barest of Overhaul's heels.
He thought there'd be more to this yakuza gig, like ye olden days or some shit, more turf wars and death matches, but so far it's been boring as hell, if he's honest. Kendo had more fun in his underground cage fighting days than this, and it's feeling more and more like he's being strung along. Which. Fair enough, he figures. He's only angling for a fight, so what's it matter to him if he's got to squish some small fry before he gets to ruin Overhual's pristine face one day soon, right?
Right, but...
Soon, however, is feeling more and more like never by the time he actually lays eyes on the kid.
She's squirming under some nondescript minder's arm. Her face is a blotchy red, white hair a mess across her face, when they pass in one of the maze-like hallways of the base. The minion bows shallowly as Kendo passes, but his eyes skim along the bandages on her arms and legs, the stubborn tilt to her wrinkled brow as she spares him one, fierce glance.
A little fighter, he thinks as they continue on their separate ways, interest piqued.
It must have meant something, finally seeing the brat, because he sees her more and more after that. Clearly in places she isn't meant to be, by the way her eyes go wide on the off chance she sees him when he sees her. It's not his job to herd her, though, so eventually she stops, confused by his pointed shrugs and sometimes pointed throat clearing when they cross paths and someone is coming up the opposite direction.
It's the most interesting thing in Kendo's life at the moment, and he still doesn't even know her name. He ends up not seeing her for a while, though, the thievery and robbery assignments grow in frequency as production of the quirk breaking drug picks up. It grates on his nerves that Overhaul fixes anyone who's unfortunate enough to get in the way of Kendo's fists, because where's the fun in any of that?
I'll cave your skull in, easy peasy, Kendo promises, watching doggedly as Overhaul disappears to wherever he goes after another 'successful' heist.
"Rappa…" Tengai says, a simple reminder but yet also a warning.
And him too. Kendo doesn't need a babysitter who can't even throw a punch, who won't throw a punch. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he growls, fists curling tight, and turns away.
Soon. Soon. It will always be soon, won't it?
Kendo snarls, and the unsated bloodlust skittering beneath his skin rears up with an ugly wash of frustration. He slams a fist against the nearest wall, the concrete splintering. His shoulders rotate, and then he slams it again, and again and again . By the time the fury wanes, the red bleeding from his vision, there's a dark, jagged hole leading into the empty room before him, the air clogged with dust.
"Ugh," he pants, and yanks the mask up from his face to swipe at his nose with barely aching knuckles. "What's a guy got to do around here to have some—"
The faintest patter of feet cut him off. Kendo cocks his head, and squints in the sudden gloom of the hallway.
Tiny as always, she's a trembling shade at the edge of the hall light, eyes large but. Dazed, if Kendo's right, glazed, and he can smell blood under the fine debris.
"What's wrong with you?" Kendo grumbles, frowning, and she flinches. He doesn't like that. He'd never hit something as weak as she is right now, that's just not sporting. "Amazed by my awesome punches?"
She doesn't answer, and he doesn't like that either. Where did that stubbornness go? It rubs him the wrong way to see her like this, for all that he doesn't know the brat at all, but he's heard enough. Always running away, Overhaul's daughter, and—
Huh.
"Huh," Kendo murmurs, and yeah, light bulb moment. "Hey kid, you wanna get out of here?"
If he can't have any fun here, and Overhaul thinks he can just keep yanking Kendo's chain with his halfhearted fights... Then he'll just have to kick the hornet's nest, won't he?
Again, she doesn't answer, but Kendo takes that for all the affirmation he needs. He scoops her up in one arm, and makes for the nearest exit because why not? There's plenty of fights to be had outside and it must not mean much that the kid makes a break for it all the time, so what if he helps?
And, if it matters all that much, he'll get to clean Overhaul's clock when he comes to collect his oh so precious daughter. Win, win.
The wet air of late summer feels like the gods' blessing his plan, and Kendo doesn't spare a single glance back as they leave, only just vaguely uncomfortable with the way the little girl curls into his arm. Bah, whatever, she's just down for the moment; she'll be right as rain after a little food and… maybe some clean clothes. Even Kendo draws the line at wearing the blood of his conquests for longer than necessary.
"You got a name, squirt?" he asks later, once he's re-bandaged her tiny baby fists and found her some loose clothes. She can't be more than… four? "How old are you anyway?"
She's still not quite all there, picking listlessly at the fast food he'd procured from some helpless sap. "... Eri," she says, so soft Kendo strains to hear it, and finally takes the smallest bite out of the greasy burger. "I dunno…"
Kendo hums, nodding. It's easy to forget your age when you've got better things to do, after all. "Well, old enough to throw a punch, I figure. I can show you, right? It's way better than kicking."
Eri chomps into the burger a little more greedily, clearly a good choice. "'M 'kay," she says around the mouthful, crumbs falling, and stills. Her eyes go large and scared, looking from Kendo's face to the bits of food across the table. Swallowing, she cowers, nearly dropping the food. "S-Sorry…"
"For what?" he asks, confused, and takes a chunk out of his own burger. Says around his own mouthful, "Is it not good?"
Now she looks confused, eyes dropping away before she resumes nibbling on the food. Kendo shrugs, mustard dripping down the corner of his mouth, and glances around the bus terminal. So far, no one's come after them yet. He isn't sure, but he might have wrecked the cameras in that hall, which. Is good, but also not good. He does need to be found if he wants a fight, but, well.
Kendo, kinda, sorta, really wants to show the kid how to throw a punch. He'd need more time for that, and somewhere to lay low, but he's short on friends and even shorter on a life outside of the underground, and everyone knows he was running with Overhaul. Not too many people even have the balls to piss him off, so. Where does that leave Kendo, huh?
The television in the corner is barely audible over the ambient chatter of other people, but Kendo looks at it for lack of a better option. He's chewed through half of his stolen dinner when he's struck by an immediate sense of clarity at the subjugation footage rolling across the screen.
"Pro Hero Mirko hops in to save the day yet again! " reads the bottom bar, and isn't that a sight for sore eyes.
Kendo grins.