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Despite the myriad of aches she felt, Himiko was skipping. Her body was littered with bandages, and the eye patch she now wore was bothersome. She felt itchy, and wanted to tear at her wounds. This must be how Shigaraki felt, she had idly thought earlier in the day. Though, she had actually refrained from scratching this literal itch. The last thing she needed was a bunch of scars.
Himiko moved and talked and did as she pleased as if she was not dealing with various degrees of injury. The Meta Liberation army members that she passed on her way bowed at her, but she paid them no mind. They had nothing to offer her now, despite whatever they may try in order to curry her favor. Today, they were nothing more than faceless nobodies she just happened to pass by.
Turning a corner, Himiko ignored the ornate decorations that increased throughout the mansion. Roaming freely in such a lively, livable place was still odd after being on the run for more than two years. Maybe during another day she would devote time to exploring and scouring every inch of this place, but such a task was not important now.
Soon enough, she arrived at her destination; the room at the end of the hall was clearly designed to indicate it was of importance. It looked like the outside of a king’s room that a child might see in a story book. Many of the rooms both within the mansion and on the Meta Liberation’s connected compound were filled with unnecessarily large amounts of space; this one was even more so with its grandeur.
Outside of the room was Spinner, as he had just walked out a few moments prior to Himiko’s arrival. The other villain looked up, and gave the young woman a quick nod.
“There you are,” he began. “Shigaraki’s still sleeping. Don’t wake him up, he needs the rest. Hell, we all do.”
Himiko nodded, coming to stop beside Spinner. Her smile hadn’t faltered at all.
“I know, I know. It’s not like we can trust those weirdos to watch over him.”
Spinner had been thinking the same thing, but Himiko was the one to voice their shared sentiment. Even if Shigaraki agreed to join -- or rather, use -- Re-Destro and his minions, it was only natural for the League members to be wary of them all. So, they all had begun taking shifts to watch over their beloved leader as he rested. It had only been a few days since that decisive battle, and the League was grateful for the time to stop and simply recuperate; though, none of them were letting their guard down at all.
Spinner yawned. “I’m going to sleep. Grab me or Compress if you need anything.”
“And wake you guys up? I’m not that rude.”
Spinner rolled his eyes, then stepped away with a wave. Unlike Himiko, he could not so readily hide his own pain and exhaustion. Himiko was sure that even if she did try to wake Spinner, he would not so easily rise. That was fine, of course, as she wanted Shigaraki all to herself, even if he was asleep. So, she crept into his room, locking the door behind her.
The aesthetic of the bedroom was the exact opposite of Shigaraki’s actual taste. It was too large, with too many decorations and pieces of furniture to be actually useful. There were no windows (the mansion had very few at all), but the lights and lamps had been set at a low dim; enough for anyone to see, but not enough to disturb someone’s slumber. Clothes, bandages, food, and various other offerings were strewn about the room. It was disorganized, but not as messy or cluttered as Shigaraki would cause himself. Things were left for him to deal with at his own schedule. Almost everything had been brought here and placed for him rather than with his own preferences in mind. So impersonal . Even the remaining disembodied hands were put neatly atop the long, ottoman seat at the end of the large bed. Himiko had seen most of it earlier, so she paid it little mind. Instead, she focused on what was actually important.
Shigaraki laid upon the bed, an extra blanket rested over most of his form. His broken and heavily bandaged limbs were visible, should they need to be rebandaged. Several pillows, all frilly and soft and expensive were piled underneath his head, neck, and the top of his torso. He was slumbering peacefully, if only out of forced necessity. This ridiculously over the top setting would have normally made his skin crawl. He hardly moved, though, and from a distance he looked more akin to a corpse than a sleeping man. Himiko’s smile softened at the sight of him.
There was already a chair pulled up to his bedside, one that Spinner must have been resting in before her. She would do the same, when she felt like it. Instead, she began to pick and rummage through the things in the room, first taking apart a bento box and eating what she wanted from it. Rice from an onigiri stuck to her face, but she did not seem to notice. Next, she moved her attention to the bandages and other medical supplies, putting them all within the first aid kit across the room. She set it atop the night stand closest to Shigaraki, assuming it would be needed later on. Finally, she began to go through the clothes-- they were all strewn about, as Re-Destro had sent them for Shigaraki at different times and whims. Himiko set them not so neatly in two different piles: one that she thought Shigaraki would actually look good in, and one for clothes she was rejecting on his behalf. Later, she thought to dump them (and anything else unnecessary) outside the room. Would one of those Liberation freaks come clean it all up, like a maid in a hotel? She chuckled softly at the thought.
Himiko sighed, leaving the clothes to turn back towards the bed.
She was tired, even if she was trying to ignore it. But now, with Shigaraki sleeping, she supposed she could relax for a short while. So, she settled into the chair near Shigaraki, and leaned against the bed, closing the distance between the two of them. The chair, the bed and its sheets, everything in this room was overwhelming with decadence and its intent to comfort. It was suffocating, she thought. She almost hated it. Almost .
Himiko hummed as she watched him sleep, his quiet breathing hinting at a rasp now and then. If she got her way, she would have covered his injuries with as many brightly colored bandages as she could. Of course, more than one person got in her way. So rude . Still, at least she could observe him like this as she (mostly) pleased. Shigaraki mumbled in his sleep, and Himiko’s thoughts snapped back to him. “ Father ,” he hissed, turning his head towards Himiko. She knew he was not addressing her, that he was merely dreaming, but she did not mind. Staying by his side was all she wanted at this moment.
Father. The word brought two people to mind; her own father, whose entirety she soon readily dismissed, and then the person known as All for One. That was who Shigaraki called Father, wasn’t it? She remembered her brief glimpse of him all too well, and frowned. She wanted to rest, not be burdened by heavy thoughts. Unfolding her arms, Himiko reached out towards Shigaraki’s head. His hair, brightly white and splayed out against the silk pillows underneath evoked a certain urge within Himiko. She wanted to touch it, play with it, run her fingers through it, wash and comb and brush and style it. She knew he wouldn’t let her do any of these things, but she could still think about it. Why, she even dared to inch close enough to him to play with loose strands, tempting fate to wake him up. Maybe, just maybe, she could…
“Hana.”
Himiko froze. That was a name she was completely unfamiliar with, and it had come from Shigaraki’s lips. Who was Hana? Who was she to him? The curiosity to learn more burst and burned within her, far more so than her still bandaged injuries could ever sting. She wanted to shake Shigaraki awake and press him for answers, but refrained. Instead, she jerked back from his sleeping form, scooting back into the chair beneath her. She brought her knees to her chest, curling inwardly upon herself, despite how her injured body wracked with pain, begging her to not conform to such a restricted posture.
Hana. Hana . Hana . Who’s Hana supposed to be?
Himiko’s face contorted into a nasty scowl. She did not want to look at Shigaraki, but still could not tear her gaze away from him. A fleeting impulse told her to run away, but she couldn’t, she wouldn’t. (Even if she did, anyone else she might want to spend time with was likely already asleep, or would likely annoy her further.) She did not want to be alone.
“...”
Oh, that’s right. She wasn’t alone, not anymore. Shigaraki, the League, had told her as much. Himiko wouldn’t flee, despite the urge to. She’d stay by Shigaraki’s side.
Shigaraki shifted in his sleep, clearly uncomfortable. It could have been due to whatever nightmare was plaguing him, his extensive injuries restricting his movement and comfort, or a combination of the two. Himiko had never seen him get a decent night’s sleep before, but the rest that was forced upon him now was the longest she’d ever seen unconscious. Her eyes narrowed, her pout hidden by her knees. Himiko wanted to sleep, too, and might have done so had she not overheard Shigaraki’s mumbling.
So, what was she to do now?
Himiko gave a short exhale out of annoyance. Her body ached, she was exhausted, and now she was annoyed. A combination of feelings that would result in nothing good. Himiko closed her eyes, trying to think of anything else. If she just closed her eyes, she could… maybe she’d just rest for a few minutes… rest her eyes only, of course… that would be….
“Why do you have rice all over your face? What are you, an elementary schooler?”
Himiko snapped awake at the voice of Shigaraki. Despite not originally wanting to do so, she had fallen asleep anyhow. Her posture had gotten even worse, and she could feel a line of drool on her chin. Shigaraki’s words startled her, and she nearly fell out of her chair.
“I don’t-- I’m not…” Himiko grumbled, wiping at her face with her hands and sleeves.
Shigaraki was smirking, which only made Himiko frown all the more.
“Don’t make fun of me, you’re the one stuck in that stupid looking bed.”
“You think I want to sit around on my ass like this?” Shigaraki huffed. “It’s boring as hell. I can’t even play the switch those weirdos got me.”
His words were a genuine complaint, and Himiko knew that if Shigaraki’s one arm was not broken, he would have already indulged in all the consoles and video games that had been gifted to him. Himiko, who saw little appeal in video games, had little sympathy for her leader here. Still, she could never turn down an opportunity to tease him, especially after he had woken her so suddenly.
“I could play them for you.” She smirked. “I hold it and you just tell me what to do.”
Shigaraki rolled his eyes. “You hardly listen to me at all. Even if you did, it’s not the same.”
Now he was the one childishly pouting. It brought Himiko a small bout of satisfaction.
“When did you wake up?” She asked him.
“I’ve been awake long enough to see you drool on yourself.” He’d been awake for over an hour, staring at her with tired eyes, but he did not want to admit that to her. It was easier to poke fun at her like this.
Himiko stood. Her body felt stiff, due to the position she had been sleeping in, and her injuries still ached. She stretched, trying to shrug it all off. Shigaraki watched her through narrowed eyes. He could barely move most of his body, but that did not deter him from wanting to get up and do what he pleased. Himiko flaunting being able to do just that was annoying.
“How long have you been here?” He asked.
Spinner had been in before her, and at least he could talk to Spinner about video games and other shared interests. Himiko was… difficult.
“A while,” she said with her back to him. Though he had not mentioned it to her, Himiko knew he would be hungry soon enough. Relaxation included eating well, and the amount of food to go around was plentiful. So, she had already begun to collect food for the two of them to share. Himiko supposed if she didn’t think about what she had heard, then it wouldn’t bother her anymore.
She was wrong, of course.
“I’m sick of sushi,” he said. “They bring anything else?”
Himiko returned to his side with the bento box she had stolen from earlier, along with various snack and junk foods. Neither of them enjoyed things like vegetables or healthy meals, even if it was what they ought to be eating.
“Finally,” Shigaraki muttered, his less bandaged hand grabbing a bag of pizza flavored chips with his index finger and thumb. “Some good fucking food.”
Himiko put the bento box and other food items on the bed between them, so they could pick and choose what they wanted to eat and make a mess of. It wasn’t like they would be cleaning the room any time soon, anyway. Himiko ate a small cupcake in two bites, trying to think about anything other than what she had heard.
Hana.
Himiko shoved another cupcake in her mouth.
“How can you eat all that sweet shit? I bet your teeth are going to fall out.” Shigaraki looked directly at her, knowing that something was bothering her; there had to be a reason she was being quieter than usual, as well as why she was averting his gaze.
“You are literally eating shitty potatoes with fake seasoning.”
“What’s your point?”
Himiko tried to shove one of her cupcakes onto him, only for Shigaraki to spit it out at her. The childish exchange brought a smirk to both of their lips; another distraction for her, a typical exchange for him.
“How can you hate sweets? They’re the best.”
“They’re gross, but-- I don’t hate you.” Shigaraki said, and then immediately regretted it. He expected her to become even more annoying, fawning over him, touching him, and…
Himiko leaned back, her smirk immediately replaced by a (forced) neutral expression.
Shigaraki blinked. He did not know what this unexpected reaction was, but he knew he did not like it. “... What?”
Himiko looked away. She shouldn’t say it, she knew it, but it came out anyway.
“I heard you talking in your sleep.”
Shigaraki tilted his head, ever so slightly. He hadn’t been told of such a thing for years. Kurogiri had mentioned it a few times, but, his tone was entirely different than the one Himiko was using now.
“Yeah? What’d stupid shit I say?”
Himiko suddenly turned back to him, leaning forward with her arms pressing down upon the bed. She looked like someone wanting to interrogate him, the way she got so close. Even if he could, Shigaraki didn’t jerk back from her. He caught the scent of her shampoo, as well as the other soaps she must use. She smells nice, he thought, easily getting distracted.
“Who’s Hana?”
Shigaraki closed his eyes. Ah… fuck.
Of course, Himiko did not expect an easy, or even direct explanation. The deep frown that settled on his face, the way the wrinkled skin above his eyes furrowed, and how his head finally tilted away from her were nothing unexpected, either. The silence, however, made her annoyance grow. She wanted to crawl on top of him, shake him, poke at him, and demand answers. Instead, all she got was an annoyed, injured man, who clearly did not want to talk about whoever Hana was. Himiko couldn’t settle for that. So, she opened her mouth, and made things worse.
“She’s someone you know, right? What, was she someone you met when you used to play all those online games? Or is she someone you met as a kid? Childhood friend shit like that? Or--?!” Before she could continue, Shigaraki threw his bag of chips at her, getting crumbs both on Himiko and all over the floor.
“Shut up.”
Himiko paused, surprised, but only for a moment.
“No, I want to know who she is!” She shot up as she shouted, only making things worse (and they both knew it).
Shigaraki groaned. He knew that she knew he didn’t want to discuss this particular subject, just as he did not want to think of the girl with black hair and pig tails that cried as she dissipated into nothingness. Yet, he also knew that Himiko wouldn’t leave well enough alone.
“She was my sister.”
Only then, did Himiko go quiet. Oh .
Just as suddenly as Himiko had invaded Shigaraki’s personal space with her intrusive gestures and words, he sat up, a dark scowl on his face. Himiko was still close to him, right at his side, and she could only look up at his face with a dumb expression. He turned towards her sharply, too quickly, jaw tensed with gritted teeth. He wasn’t supposed to be moving so much, just as she wasn’t, but neither of them were ever very good at doing what they were told.
“Hana was my sister.” The hand of his which was not bound in a heavy cast flexed. He remembered it, the feeling of reaching out only to cause destruction and death; to grasp for something that he himself made into ash. “And I killed her.”
Himiko said nothing.
“With these-- with this fucking…!”
Shigaraki shoved his hand in her face, the both of them knowing that though it was bandaged, it was still deadly. Himiko did not move, even as his hand hovered so close to her face. She knew, he didn’t have to say anymore, but she was the one who had pried.
“That’s who she is, that’s what happened!” His voice suddenly raised in both octave and volume, and his body shook; a violent reaction to a violent memory. He jerked towards her, only to take his hand back. He held it to his chest, the same hand soon balling into a fist. “Is that what you wanted to know? Or, what, am I not allowed to mention my dead fucking sister in my sleep?”
That’s probably why he didn’t sleep very much, she suddenly realized; or she would have, if she was thinking critically about the situation.
“You, you… augh…”
His body shook again, and he leaned forward with a weak posture. Underneath the robe he was wearing, Himiko saw red blotches begin to appear on his white bandages. He was in pain, his body couldn’t bear this much, not now. His head began to ache, familiarly and detestably so. He hated this, both this feeling and the rage that came with it.
“Tomura-kun,” she whispered.
But, Himiko was not the person who had burdened him with these feelings all those years ago. He knew that, too.
Gently, she reached out, putting one hand on his shoulder, then her other on the opposite. He flinched at her touch, only for his tension to slowly begin to release. He still did not look at her. Shigaraki allowed her to ease his body backwards slightly, as well as shrug the robe he was wearing off of him as best she could. Quickly, she began undressing his bandages, cleaning the re-opened and tender wounds, only to bandage and dress them all over again. She had done this before, of course, but her words hadn’t been the cause, and the slight frown she wore was evident of her guilt.
She knew she shouldn’t have asked, but she had gone and done so anyway.
By the time Shigaraki was laying back down, freshly bandaged, and his mood totally soured, Himiko sat back in her chair looking down at her feet. The silence between them now was even worse than before. His breathing was uneven, his weakened state embarrassing enough. He wouldn’t be getting up without help again anytime soon.
Shigaraki eventually let out a sigh. He hated awkward moments like these, solely because he had no idea how to navigate them. He was still annoyed, both by Himiko’s nosy behavior and having to think about Hana, but seeing Himiko sit there and sulk annoyed him more. This is why she was difficult, she was complicated, but… He didn’t want her to leave.
“Hey,” he finally choked out.
“Sorry,” she said before he could say anything else. “I…”
Shigaraki was surprised she actually apologized, even if it was half-assed. Was it because of his reaction, or perhaps because it was only just the two of them in this room? He didn’t know, but… did it matter? Maybe, at another time, he might even take satisfaction for being one of the few people to hear the word ‘sorry’ from Himiko Toga.
“Don’t give me any excuses.” He responded after a moment of thought.
“...”
“... But, uh, thanks I guess, for you know…” He awkwardly gestured to his bandaged torso.
“Yeah. It was my fault, so…”
“It was.”
A pause.
“Dumbass,” he finally muttered.
“I am not dumb.”
Shigaraki was almost relieved to hear her quip back at him so readily. "So, you're just an ass?"
Himiko stood with a huff, and Shigaraki’s head moved as quickly as it could to look at her. She began brushing the crumbs of food off of her, then the bed, and began cleaning up and setting aside the snacks from earlier.
“Hey,” Shigaraki began to protest, snatching up the chips he had been eating earlier; he wasn’t hungry anymore, but, he didn’t want to give up his snack just yet. “I’m not done with that.”
Himiko said nothing.
Girls are so weird.
“Toga.”
She paused. “... yeah?”
Shigaraki hesitated. He hadn’t thought about what to say next. Shit .
Thankfully, Himiko spoke first. “I want to know more about you.”
“Huh?” Shigaraki didn’t get it.
“It’s only natural, so…” Himiko mumbled, as if she wasn’t even speaking to Shigaraki at all.
Himiko turned back towards him. Even between his unkempt hair and the bandages on her face, he could see the added flush of her cheeks and the coy expression she wore. Earlier, she was just being invasive and nosy, but this…
Shigaraki felt a lump in his throat, and swallowed it down.
She took one step towards him, then another and another until she was leaning against the bed again, sitting so close to him. Why did she always get so close? It was as if the very notion of personal space did not even exist to her until she wanted it to.
“Can I ask you some stuff? I won’t ask again if you don’t want to answer. I won’t get mad like earlier, either.” Himiko dared to reach out and lay her fingers against his wrist. Shigaraki moved it back, slowly, carefully.
The audacity she had, he realized, was sometimes so shocking he could hardly believe the things she did. Then, she would do something even more obnoxious. She’s insane . Shigaraki also realized that he didn’t particularly mind that much.
“I just told you I killed my own sister with my quirk and you try to touch me?” He breathed the question out with a rasp, disbelief clear in his tone. If he didn’t say it out loud, would it really have happened?
“... Yeah.”
“You are so goddamn weird.”
Himiko smiled.
Shigaraki almost wished he had pretended he had been asleep earlier, now that the metaphorical floodgates had been opened. Himiko continued to pry, asking both mundane and invasive questions as she pleased. When (and sometimes if) Shigaraki actually answered, she wouldn’t fail to give her own opinion on what he said, regardless of the fact that he didn’t ask for it. Though, as he lay there, their bodies uncomfortably close together, Shigaraki noted how even some insane, bandaged girl could sound and look so seemingly normal whilst talking with him of all people.
Despite Himiko’s enthusiasm to talk on and on, Shigaraki could not keep up. Eventually, his eyes slowly began to close, and Himiko only realized he had fallen asleep when his head tilted to the side opposite of her. His soft snores could have easily been ignored, but, Himiko soon stopped talking; she had no problem with watching and listening to Shigaraki sleep. Perhaps she would have done so if Mr. Compress had not intruded on the two of them.
“Ah, still asleep?” The self-proclaimed old man whispered.
Himiko shushed him. She slowly rose, taking the things she wanted from the room, then walked by Mr. Compress with a gentle nod. While she had no idea what time it was, she really didn’t seem to mind. Talking for who knows how long had made her injured body tired, too, so she retreated to her own designated room. It wasn’t as nearly as over-decorated as Shigaraki’s, but it wasn’t her style at all. It did beat camping out on a mountain, though, and with the quickness with which she fell asleep, Himiko had little time to think about things like interior design.
Some time later, Himiko awoke to the sound of yelling. Multiple people were yelling, but, the voices were none she immediately recognized (or cared about), so they all blurred into one, annoying assault on her ears. She took her time dragging herself out of bed, cleaning and dressing herself and her wounds. She didn’t even bother tying her hair up, as it required the use of her hands that were currently throbbing from tiny nicks and cuts that were much more preoccupied with healing.
She carried her heavy body around, grabbing random food where she could. In doing so, she overhead plenty about some sort of announcement to be made. People talked to her about it, but the Meta Liberation peons were nothing more than a blur of sights and noises; she didn’t even try to pretend to listen to them. If she needed anything, if there was something for her to learn, Himiko knew where to go.
Eventually, or perhaps simply inevitably, Himiko appeared in Shigaraki’s room completely unannounced. Dabi was sitting in a corner, typing away on a laptop. He did not even bother to look up when she arrived. Shigaraki was asleep, a blanket half thrown over his form, his head tilted back as he snored.
“You’re finally up?” Dabi said. Himiko groaned in response, bread in her mouth. “You two sleep like the damn dead or something.”
Himiko was already laying on the floor, on her side as she slowly continued to stuff the random food items she had into her mouth. Dabi was working on something important to him, but, Himiko didn’t care. Dabi didn’t care that she didn’t care. If she wouldn’t pry, then he wouldn’t share, and that dynamic worked well for the both of them. She didn’t stir until Dabi snapped his laptop shut loud enough to wake both of the sleeping villains within the room. Himiko let out another groan, and Shigaraki twitched, only to fall right back asleep.
“Your turn,” Dabi stated as he walked out of the room with his belongings. Just as quickly as he had left, a Liberation dog (or so Himiko thought of most of them) poked their head in.
“Excuse me, Himiko Toga-san. I don’t mean to intrude…”
“You are,” she hissed in response. Whomever she was speaking to flinched.
"And don't call me that. It's Himiko-sama to you weirdos."
“Yes, of course, Himiko-sama... It’s just, I was told to come and bring you these…” They wheeled in a rack of clothing, clearly suited for a young lady in mind. Different dresses were highlighted, but so was Himiko’s own usual uniform and jacket, plus the coat she had previously bought. Now, this person had Himiko’s attention. Her visible eye sparkled, and she grabbed at the rack as soon as she could hop up and reach for it. The person she shooed away mentioned something about Shigaraki’s outfits already being in the room, but Himiko didn’t notice. She simply shooed the servant away and slammed the door behind him. Soon enough, Himiko was too distracted by all the pretty attire for her to rifle through. It didn’t take her long to begin playing dress up.
By the time Shigaraki awoke for the second time, Himiko had tried on and modeled herself in nearly half the outfits, leaving those she’d tried on on the floor for someone else to pick up. The first thing Shigaraki saw was the ceiling, which was just as ornate at the room’s walls. He tilted his head at the noise Himiko was making, and nearly choked when he saw the skin of her back that wasn’t bandaged.
“What,” he wheezed, “in the fuck are you doing in here?”
Himiko turned towards him with a smile that did not match either her current actions or any of her visibly covered wounds. “I’m trying these on, duh! They’re all soooo cute, I just can’t decide which one to wear!”
Shigaraki blinked. It was as if he was talking to a wall, but somehow worse. So, he just decided to close his eyes. He didn’t need to be conscious yet, so maybe that would be easier…
“No, no, don’t go back to sleep! I need to know what you think of these!”
… Or, maybe it wouldn’t.
“I am not doing that shit.”
“Aw, c’mon… I’ll pick out your outfit, too!”
“I don’t need you to do that. I’m just gonna wear what I’ve got on.”
“You can’t wear pajamas to… uh…. Whatever it is we’re going to.”
“You didn’t listen to all that shit that creep and I decided on, did you?”
“When did you even have time to talk to that guy? How could you even get a word in?”
Shigaraki couldn’t help but smirk at the irony of her words. So, turning his head away from her, he just grunted and shrugged. He could barely move, loathe as he was to admit such a thing, soo there wasn’t much he could do if she was adamant on using him as a dress up doll. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to such dire straits.
“Shit’s not even until tomorrow afternoon. What are you even getting all excited for?”
Himiko suddenly pouted. “I never get to dress up and be fashionable. What’s wrong with that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe doing it in my fucking room?”
Himiko rolled her eyes so hard, Shigaraki was certain he could hear it.
Regardless of their banter, Himiko continued trying on and tossing aside different outfits. She kept trying to get Shigaraki to give her his opinion, but every time she would look at him he would look away. It annoyed her, sure, but did not deter her by any means. Neither did the pain from her injuries. She was ignoring them, toughing them out and pretending nothing hurt at all. It was easier that way when she had something to distract herself with. Soon enough, she was so distracted that she did not even notice how hard Shigaraki did stare at her when she wasn’t paying attention.
Shigaraki wondered how his room became even more of a mess every time he woke up. Between Himiko and Twice, it was a marvel that the floor could be seen at all. Spinner had tried to clean earlier, but soon gave up. Mr. Compress and Dabi had been smart enough to not even try. Perhaps if any of them had actually let any of the Liberation servants stay in the room longer than a minute, something could actually be done… but, Shigaraki supposed it didn’t matter. Not now, when Himiko Toga continued to dress and undress herself only a short distance away.
He continued to observe her, and noted how her movements were getting progressively slower. Shigaraki also noticed her bandaged skin, how her unkempt hair draped over his shoulders, and…
He cursed, inwardly, every time their eyes accidentally met.
The question brewing in his mind was one he already knew the answer to, or so he assumed. It was the way she was bandaged up, from where his eyes both could and could not see; it was how the eyepatch she was wearing was tied just a bit too tight; how her normally carefree gait was now heavy and burdened with pain…
The hand connected to his unbroken arm twitched. Shigaraki raised it tentatively, slowly and silently enough to not catch her attention. Her eye was not even on him at the moment, her frame turned to the side to rifle through the first aid kit she had badgered someone for. Even now, he wanted her to look at him, beaten as they both were. As much as she had once swooned about her infatuation with others, Shigaraki selfishly wanted her attention. In this room, with just the two of them, he supposed he could allow himself that.
“Hey,” he breathed out, his voice a rasp. “Toga…”
His call surprised her, and she whipped her head around quickly to face him once more. She had already begun to lean forward, ready to focus her attention upon him; yet, the gentle touch of his index and middle finger reached her first. She did not flinch, despite the shock at his forwardness, but stopped before she could even verbally respond. Her gaze met his, and widened as his softened. She stood before him, the dress she was wearing was unzipped, its sleeves unevenly hanging off of her shoulders. Its bottom skirt was mostly tulle, and Shigaraki wondered how in the hell she could wear something that looked like it belonged in a shitty, Western teen movie. It was red, of course it was. The damned dress was so red it was almost uncomfortable to look at for too long. Shigaraki swallowed, hard.
“Toga,” he repeated her name, not daring to extend his hand any further, still wary about touching her at all; yet, the warmth her cheeks brought to even just the tips of two fingers was more than enough to off-set the pain required to move his arm. “... Are you okay?”
Himiko said nothing. She was frozen, both due to his touch and the sudden question. She did not know what to say, how to respond. ‘ Are you okay? ’ Himiko did not know. Was she okay? Was she truly alright, after that horrible battle, after the pain and near death that wracked her body only days prior?
“...”
The silence between them only grew, with Himiko not sure what to say, and Shigaraki’s shaking fingertips still daring to linger upon her face. She wanted to lie, to say that she was fine, only to hold on desperately to the hand that was offered to her. He wouldn’t let her, she knew it, but the temptation to relax into his grasp (plus knowing how patient he was with her in this moment) was almost too much. How could she lie to him?
One hand of her own grasped his wrist, the other cradling his bandaged elbow. He would never allow her to hold his hand, but supporting his arm like this was a compromise she was glad to make. She felt him tense, but only for a moment.
“I… no.” Her voice was soft and hushed, as if to utter a secret. They were the only two people in this large, overtly decorated room, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to respond to him with the loud and boisterous tone she typically used. “I’m not…”
Shigaraki was silent, resisting the urge to add his ring finger to the soft curvature of her cheek.
“I thought I was… because-- we won, but…” Himiko trailed off, closing her eye with a pained expression; even as a whisper, her voice began to crack. “That woman, she made me think about all the things I ran away from, that I wanted to forget.”
Her grip upon his elbow and wrist tightened. Shigaraki frowned. If Himiko hadn’t already killed that so-called reporter, he would have done it himself. Though, he remained silent, letting the blonde speak. He knew the reputation, but not the details, of her life before their meeting. The League members had never pressed one another for information regarding one another; it was an unspoken rule between them all, but the curiosity had always lingered. How could they not look at one another and ponder how they ended up here, immersed in a life of crime and death? Shigaraki, too, in his selfishness, wanted to know what it was that Himiko was thinking most of the time, even if he would rarely admit to being concerned about her. Her words clearly indicated that her own battle had brought up unpleasant memories, so he could certainly empathize with her, even if his next set of words did not necessarily convey such feelings.
“You don’t have to talk about it-- if you don’t want to.” His outstretched fingers curled, and Himiko felt his nails gently brush against her cheek. Her hands on his arm clenched, a desperate attempt to keep his gentle touch where it was. Shigaraki let her.
“You told me about Hana,” she began, pretending not to notice how Shigaraki winced at the name of his sister. “So I… I want to tell you.”
Shigaraki let loose a scoff.
“Go ahead then, tell me your tragic backstory.” His attempt at a joke garnered a short exhale of amusement from her.
“You asked for it.”
Though she had said that, Himiko did not know where to begin. She paused, thinking, thinking about herself. There was the first time she gave in for her temptation for blood-- when she cradled that beautiful, dead bird in her small hands; the first time her parents admonished her, beat her, called her names; what about the mask she wore, or the way it broke and shattered into the specks of blood splatter from her former classmate? Himiko let go of Shigaraki, giving him his arm back. He hadn’t expected her to let loose so easily, but her grip was soon replaced by her creeping closer to him in another way. Going around him, she came to the opposite side of the bed, the one that was not piled up by pillows to support Shigaraki’s head and torso. She curled near his hip, resting her head upon it, his bandaged and cast arm above her. Of course , he thought, his body stiffening. Himiko was so clingy, desperate to get closer to him. That was why she was in this room in the first place, after all. The tulle of her dress’ skirt spread out over the rest of the bed, even on Shigaraki’s covered legs. He could feel its soft, almost air-like quality, but considered Himiko’s touch to be far softer, far more preferable.
Once she made herself comfortable, Himiko began to speak again. Her words could likely not compare with the video games and manga he liked, but she spoke anyway. She told him everything, rambling on and on and on. As soon as something popped into her mind, she blurted it out. He listened, not even offering her anymore of his sarcastic commentary. She spoke, and he heard her. That was more than anyone in her family, her previous school life, had ever done for her before.
Suddenly, she felt something wet upon her face.
Shigaraki had felt the dampness even through the blankets and his own clothing, but chose not to mention it.
Himiko did not even realize that she had begun to cry until she finished talking. Perhaps it was the realization of her tears that made her stop. Shigaraki wanted to wipe those tears away, but his body remained still and stiff. He had already reached out for her once, risking the worst by daring to do so; he couldn’t do it again, the fear of losing someone else due to his quirk already long since ingrained into every cell in his body. Thankfully, there was a box of tissues on the nightstand near the bed; however, he could not reach it without getting up, and that would disturb Himiko’s clinging to his side. He sighed inwardly. Fucked either way , he thought.
She wiped her face with a nearby pillow, probably staining and ruining its ridiculously expensive fabric. Neither of them much cared.
“Uhm.” Shigaraki choked out; a tinge of red embarrassment highlighted his cheeks. “Well. Okay then.”
He had no idea what to say, or how to even begin comforting her, and it showed. Himiko looked up, with her reddened cheeks and eye, desperate to see him again. Never had she talked about herself in such a capacity, but once she had begun she hadn’t been able to stop until a moment ago.
So, suddenly, she choked out a laugh.
“You suck at this,” she whispered.
Shigaraki hesitated, only to smirk; “Yeah, I know.”
There was little need to say anything else.
A silence fell between them, the only noise being either one of them shuffling or moving against the bed’s high-quality fabrics. It irritated the both of them, a fact that soon became quite clear.
“This is… it’s like…” Himiko began, rubbing her uncovered eye.
“It’s too soft,” Shigaraki grunted. Himiko nodded in agreement. “It’s like… how is this shit so soft? I hate it.”
Himiko let out a gentle chuckle. The two of them continued to move around, Himiko more so than Shigaraki of course, until they were both comfortable. Inevitably, Himiko laid next to Shigaraki, their heads both on the swath of pillows. Her dress still spilled all over, the tulle of the skirt taking up more space than the both of them. Shigaraki laid in the same area as before, but now his body was tilted toward Himiko’s, his broken and cast arm between them.
“I don’t know why you kept trying on all those ridiculous outfits,” Shigaraki finally huffed. “You looked fine in your normal uniform.”
“Oh,” Himiko whispered. She smiled softly. “Okay, I’ll wear that, then.”
With closed eyes and a relaxed expression, Himiko leaned into the pillow. Shigaraki did the same, though his eyes remained open. Yes, the bedding they sunk into was uncomfortably soft, but it was far more tolerable with each other by their side. In the morning, the two of them would awaken groggily, rise, and eat all at their own paces. Himiko would dress both herself and Shigaraki, set him in his wheelchair, and demand that she drag him around in it. She wouldn’t get her way, of course, but it was all part of their banter, their fun.
After living in such a dangerous way for months (or longer) on end, the League had quite the unanimous idea, even though it was unspoken. When something, or even someone, could be taken away from them so easily, wasn't it better to enjoy the pleasant moments while they lasted?