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The blood under Toga’s nails was the hardest to wash away. Truthfully, she didn’t want to scrub the red from her fingers. She was content to leave her nail beds crusted with dried blood and the scent of copper. She’d carry the metallic tang around and wear it like perfume. Still, she washed it away — and not for the first time.
Even after scrubbing the rusty tint from her skin, Toga could still smell the thick, sweet, deliciously suffocating scent, laced with iron and ecstasy. If she got too lost in thought, she could taste it too. There was a time when she’d choked on blood. Her own. As it passed her lips, staining them red and raw, she remembered thinking that she tasted alive — her blood a technicolor dream.
Soon enough, Toga wouldn’t have to wash it away. Soon, she would be able to be as bloody and free as her heart desired. She looked forward to it with increasing fervor. Too much of Toga’s life had been spent hiding in shadows to dodge the consequences of her bloodlust.
That would change when the Paranormal Liberation Front succeeded in its mission. Shigaraki’s recent decision to focus on the total destruction of their current society rather than merely reshaping it was more than fine with Toga. A world without limits was a world of true liberation, and the thought of living in it was a dream come true. So, every time she was forced to wash beautiful, crimson blood from her fingers, she reminded herself that her wait was almost over.
As a child, Toga hadn’t seen anything wrong with her quirky habits. In truth, she still didn’t see an issue with them. She wasn’t particularly bothered by how her peers had treated her. Their fear and disgust were annoying and unfortunate, but the real problem was that they wouldn’t play along with her. Worse, they’d tattle on her when she finally got up to some good, bloody fun. No amount of getting her in trouble mattered, though.
As much as her peers distrusted her, Toga couldn’t be bothered to stop. Why should she? Wasn’t life about being one’s authentic self and living every day to the fullest? It wasn’t Toga’s fault that blood was so mesmerizing to her, that it called for her to taste it, or that using her quirk was so thrilling. It was merely her way of connecting with others — h er way of being close to them.
With the League of Villains, and now the Paranormal Liberation Front, Toga wasn’t treated like a freak. Sure, Dabi called her one, but that was how he was with all of them. It didn’t bother her. In fact, sans the aloof arsonist, Toga’s new peers were readily accepting of her.
Magne had been like a big sister or aunt to Toga, which only made her death sting more. As the only female members of the League, the pair had bonded early on. Although it wasn’t obvious to her at first, an instinct to protect and nurture Toga had blossomed in Magne. What was apparent was that Magne never pointed out her otherness, reprimanded her, or held her at arm’s length. She’d kept a watchful eye over Toga but never sought to impede or change the wily, blood-loving shifter.
Then there was Twice, whose heart was too big for his body. Before the League and the Paranormal Liberation Front, Toga hadn’t been lonely; she had her quirk. If she wanted company, a human connection, all she had to do was slip into another’s skin. She was used to one-sided affection, familiar with trailing her fingers across skin that was and wasn’t hers, and no stranger to talking to her reflection. Twice was different, though. Unlike the others, he actually wanted to know Toga. He was genuinely interested in what she had to say and easily impressed by her abilities. It was nigh unfathomable.
Drying her hands, Toga stepped out of the bathroom. Shigaraki wanted her for a mission and had promised it would be fun. Well, he hadn’t said fun, but Toga had decided it would be. It involved her getting to use her quirk, and that meant things were bound to get bloody. Doing favors for Shigaraki was exhilarating. Toga’s enthusiasm and bloodlust didn’t perturb him, perhaps because he was no stranger to death and bloodshed himself.
To Shigaraki, Toga was valuable, an asset or tool that he could wield for his cause. Beyond that, he’d grown soft on his underlings, Toga included. As indifferent as he acted toward his followers, he cared. It was the reason he’d stopped Toga from going after Overhaul when Magne died, and he’d shown his hand again several times since.
Unlike Toga’s parents, Shigaraki saw her as a useful contributor and wasn’t embarrassed or afraid of her. He understood that her quirk and habits brought value to his cause and didn’t have any interest in redirecting her — far from it. By the time Shigaraki succeeded, she’d be free from her chain. Toga beamed at the thought as she creeped up on where Shigaraki stood waiting for her.
“Tomu,” Toga purred, leaping to cling to his back. “I’m ready for my mission.”
“Get off,” Shigaraki hissed, trying to dislodge her. It never occurred to Toga that she should worry about him dusting her when she pulled stunts like this. She trusted him, or more aptly, she didn’t fear him. Her only true concerns revolved around not being able to use her quirk and the ones she loved being bloodied up by people that weren’t her. Slipping off of his back, Toga dropped her head to her shoulder, looking up at Shigaraki with a crooked grin, her amber eyes brimming with fiendish delight.
Scratching at his neck in irritation, Shigaraki muttered something under his breath before fixing her with his crimson gaze. His eyes were like pools of blood. Enamored, Toga couldn’t help but flush. She’d give anything to bloody him up just a little. Playing with Shigaraki’s quirk would be far too fun, but there was no point in dwelling on the thought. He’d never let Toga slice him; he was boring like that.
“So, what’s the mission?” Toga tapped the corner of her mouth, eager to get going. As great as playing around was, the real fun didn’t start until things got bloody.
“We need you to sneak into a hero rally and pass these out.” Shigaraki handed a stack of Paranormal Liberation Front flyers over to Toga. How boring. Wasn’t this job more suited to Re-Destro’s people? A slight pout crept over Toga’s face.
“Don’t give me that look,” Shigaraki scowled, his brow pinching.
“But I thought you said you had something fun for me,” Toga whined.
“I never said that.” Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at Toga. “Besides, I wasn’t finished. Go as that U.A. girl. It’s useless for you to go as a civilian.”
It was quite clever, actually. Wearing the likeness of a hero-hopeful lent credibility to Toga’s words and actions, which in turn lent credence to the Paranormal Liberation Front’s agenda. Uraraka, or Uravity as the press had called her, wasn’t an unfamiliar face to the public. While she didn’t have half the media attention that a hero like Hawks had, people had seen her on the news more than once by now, giving her name traction.
“You still have some of her blood, right?” Shigaraki’s scratching picked up again as he eyed Toga.
“Of course,” Toga giggled, a brilliant blush exploding across her cheeks. “I saved a little just for me.” A frown pulled at the corners of Shigaraki’s mouth, but he didn’t question her. Of course she’d saved some of Uraraka’s blood. It wasn’t every day that she got to slice up cuties. If only she could have cut up Mr. Stainy and Deku too; she’d really be happy then.
“Well, we need it now, so go get it.” Dropping his hand from his torn neck, Shigaraki crossed his arms, daring Toga to rebel against him. She wasn’t particularly materialistic or sentimental, but ever since the League had outfitted her with her blood containment machine, she’d developed a habit of putting up a fight whenever Shigaraki asked her to use up her supply.
To pacify her, Shigaraki had insisted that this arrangement was temporary. Once hero society was brought to its knees, Toga could have as much blood as her heart desired. She’d be free to play with it endlessly, and he’d never ask her to use it on his behalf again.
“‘Kay.” Toga nodded, willing to oblige the request, especially if it meant getting to transform into Uraraka again.
Skipping off, Toga slipped into the kitchen. She’d hidden her blood stash in the depths of the freezer. Snatching the necessary vial, she climbed up to sit on the counter, cradling the cold glass in her hands until it defrosted enough for her to slide the contents into her eager mouth. Sucking happily on the icy blood, Toga felt her skin begin to tingle as her quirk activated, and before she could lick her lips clean of the blood, her transformation was complete.
Patting her round cheeks, Toga cooed happily. She ran her hands down her sides, feeling Uraraka’s curves, and a pleasant warmth spread under her skin. There was nothing quite like shifting into someone she admired. It wasn’t possible to be any closer to them. With a content hum, Toga hugged herself, delighting in the feeling of firm muscles layered beneath soft pudge. Yes, Uraraka was one of her favorites.
When Toga had joined the League, she’d mostly been looking for a way to meet Mr. Stainy, or at the very least, find a way to impress him. Helping Shigaraki and the League allowed Toga to help carry on Mr. Stainy’s aims in a roundabout way. Over time, however, Toga’s objectives shifted away from being fueled by her crush on the Hero Killer.
Her fearless leader, Shigaraki, had planted ideas about limitless freedom and expression in her mind, and with them, the desire to actively help the Paranormal Liberation Front’s cause. Heart brimming with hope and excitement, Toga was looking forward to the future they’d build — a future where she didn’t have to wash the blood away.
Giddy, Toga pulled her coat on and collected Shigaraki’s flyers. Her blood was practically singing in her veins, and she felt light and floaty as she slipped out of the base and onto the streets. Sucking Uraraka’s soft lip between her canines, Toga grinned. It was time to spread the good word.