Chapter Text
Humidity fogged beneath the plastic hood of the raincoat as Ochako stood before a blue mailbox. Amid the downpour, she huddled over the envelope as she paged through the banknotes. Sighing she sealed the letter shut, making sure that the address label didn’t smudge while slipped the letter through the hatch. Sickness retched in her stomach as overcast clouds marred the heavens. She doubted her parents wanted to hear from her – but they also hadn’t ever returned the mail to the sender. Because at the end of the day, Ochako’s parents knew she was only a thief as a means to help keep their lights on.
Growls echoed from her abdomen as water soaked through her sneakers. Longing for proper rainboots, she trudged toward the neon sign of a convenience store. Fishing through her pocket, she retrieved a handful of yen. Barely enough to cover a single cup of ramen. What a joke. Ochako ran her hands through her hair – and considered whether it was worth her while to use Zero Gravity to float beyond the earth’s atmosphere. It wasn't like she could vomit anyhow – at least not on an empty stomach.
Shaking off the rain, Ochako slapped both hands on her cheeks. Get yourself together. It’s just soup. You’ve got this. Back straight with newfound confidence, Ochako swung the glass door open. Putting on her most absent-minded smile and briefly nodded toward the man at the cash register as if to imply, “I’m just a normal teenage girl. Definitely came back from school. Not stealing someone’s antique grandfather clock, haha. Yep, no funny business here.”
As she walked down the aisles, she headed for the candy section in a beeline. At first glance, it appeared like she was eagerly eyeing the wide selection of gummies – trapped in a dilemma over whether she should indulge in tooth-rooting treats. Yet from the corner of her eye, she observed the camera fastened to the top of the ceiling. Its plastic mount had limited rotation, two-hundred degrees at most. Ochako barely managed to bite back a victorious smile as she strode toward the blind spot.
Five fingers swiped across packets of ramen. The plastic containers gradually drifted upward, levitating just outside the camera’s periphery. Tapping her foot, Ochako waited for the ramen to drift toward the door as she picked up one more packet. As the cashier scanned the barcode, she softly hummed a tune to herself. Ten for the price of one. What a bargain!
Yet as Ochako accepted a plastic grocery bag, the cashier’s gaze narrowed in on her. Trying not the turn toward the floating ramen, Ochako suppressed all the tension in her body as she sent a silent prayer. Please don’t look up. Nothing to see there.
Instead, the cashier sent her a death glare and grumbled, “You’re that criminal.”
Ochako felt like her organs had flipped inside out. She wanted to cram a finger into her ear canal to check for wax. She had to have misheard, right? But the cashier’s hand reaching for the landline only hammered in the truth. Without a second thought, Ochako stretched toward the phone cord. As the telephone lifted all the ramen containers clattered to the ground. Grabbing as many packets as she could carry, Ochako sprinted off – not pausing even as her sides ached. In the distance, the cashier shouted while waving a broom after her.
Only once she reached her apartment, did Ochako collapse onto the ground. Bile burned at her throat while the ramen piled around her. Her breaths hitched as she placed a pot of water on the stove, hoping to still the anxieties festering in her chest with food. How had the cashier known? Did she simply look too suspicious? No, he had seemed to recognize her. But how had he known she was a criminal? She always wore a mask.
Massaging her swollen lids, she decided that dwelling on the cashier could be future Ochako’s problem. She let the brittle noodles trickle into the bubbling water and proceeded to nestle on the couch marred with a few too many dark spots. But eh, it wasn’t as if coffee stains made the cushions any less comfortable. Besides, only a madman would say no to a free couch (regardless of how many fungal sprays were needed to sanitize it). With a yawn, Ochako reached for the remote.
A newscaster emerged upon the rundown boxy television. Her deep pupils swelled as she gulped while holding a microphone close to her chest. The mournful expression in the newscaster’s eyes made Ochako wonder if the stock market had crashed. Ochako dragged her hands across her face. Anything but the economy! How am I supposed to steal if people don’t have the money to buy anything worth stealing?
The newscaster cleared her throat. “Yesterday in downtown Musutafu a man was found stabbed in an alleyway.”
An image of a strip of red bricks loomed behind the newscaster. The neon silhouette of a minimart (that was unfortunately all too familiar) blurred nearby. A murder that close? Ochako instinctively reached for her housekeys, envisioning using it as a weapon. Yet she cast the thought aside, deciding to order some pepper spray instead. Ochako tuned out the rest of the newscaster’s rambling until a photo of the suspect emerged. A brown bob flashed on the screen. Rosy cheeks. The same face Ochako saw every morning in the mirror.
Shrouded in a facemask, Ochako trekked through the narrow streets with her hair knotted so tightly into a ponytail that her head ached. Failing to ease her breaths, she tapped her two pinkies together. She couldn’t possibly be a murderer, right? She didn’t remember killing anyone – so what if she had an evil alter ego who took over her body and made her black out and wanted to make Ochako’s life more difficult by stabbing people? No, that’s ridiculous. Wouldn’t my alter ego be a goody-two-shoes or something? Thieves are already villain-adjacent, so a second personality really doesn’t need to up the ante even more. Squeezing her eyelids shut, Ochako swung herself onto a fire escape before surveying the sidewalk. The alley in question loomed several blocks ahead. The murder had happened less than an hour ago – so maybe, just maybe she could uncover what exactly was afoot.
Clang. A lithe body collided with a dumpster below. Crusty newspapers clung to light-colored hair as Ochako zeroed in on the blurred silhouette. Applying anti-gravity to the soles of her rubber sneakers, Ochako scaled down the railing. A mirror image of herself stood dripping in the rain – a perfect replica save for the angry gash that pooled into a puddle of red on the asphalt. Ochako didn’t even get the chance to shudder at the sight of the imposter before her down and proceeded to slurp up the pool of blood.
Ochako’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck?!”
Blood running down her chin, the double frowned. “Hey! Greeting someone with a curse word isn’t very cute.”
In exasperation, Ochako threw her hands in the air. “You are drinking blood for a puddle.”
“Well, I can’t let perfectly good food go to waste.” The double shrugged.
“But it’s your own blood!”
“Fair point. It really doesn’t hit the same. AB blood just doesn’t have that same irony flavor, you know.” The imposter beamed brightly at Ochako. “It wasn’t super tasty like yours.”
Ochako dug her fingernails into the side of her head. She had to be hallucinating. The blood aficionado had to be some wild figment of her imagination. She had been eating a lot of cheap food lately and who knows what chemicals are in preservations – maybe they were making her see things. Then again, the distant roar of car engines and the wind brushing at the back of her ears felt too grounded.
“Why would you drink my blood? Are you some kind of vampire?” Ochako asked.
“What no way? Sure, I might be a murderer but biting people without consent is totes too far.”
A grieved sigh echoed through the alley. This girl really needs to reevaluate her standards. “Is it part of your quirk? Is that why you look like me? And how did you even get your hands on my blood?”
“Eh, it was just lying around in front of a shattered window, so I saved it as a snack for later. My appetite’s kind of weird. Never know when I’m gonna want munchies.”
Ochako’s stomach gurgled in sympathy, making her internally shout at her organs to shut up. The boxed mac n’ cheese and ramen might be nothing short of literal garbage – and Ochako could respect a free food hustle – but blood, come on. It doesn’t even have that many worthwhile nutrients save for iron.
“What’s become of this society?” Ochako let out a defeated laugh. “Looks like I don’t even get to bleed in an alleyway without being framed for murder anymore.”
“If it helps at all, I didn’t mean to frame you. You just looked super cute and I wanted to be like you.”
The pink on Ochako’s cheeks deepened as the imposter gleefully took in her reflection on the side of a dumpster. A faint tingle filled Ochako’s chest. After all, she’d always found herself to be quite plain-looking. “Thanks for the compliment?”
“You’re welcome!” the imposter replied in a sing-song voice.
The cascade of blue and red lights burst through the grey. Stomach aflutter, Ochako’s eyes widened. She tightened her sneakers and bolted down the path. No footsteps thudded behind her. She turned toward the imposter, who sat crisscrossed applesauce on the road while she hummed off-key.
“Why aren’t you running from the cops?”
The imposter tilted her head. “Why would I need to? I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. Besides, maybe the cops are friendly.”
“Friendly?!” Ochako facepalmed herself before grabbing the imposter’s wrist and dragging her along. “Trust me, they aren’t going to be particularly accommodating considering that we’re both wearing the face of a murderer.”
As sirens blared, the girls sprinted along the pavement. Rain seeped through Ochako’s jacket but not a single trace of goosebumps graced her skin. Because as much as she hated to admit it, the imposter’s touch was incredibly warm.
Slumping against the factory wall, Ochako stared at the ceiling. The police cars zoomed a handful of streets away. She bit down on her lip as she clutched her ponytail. Damn it, karma was such a bitch. Did a few (dozen) robberies really merit getting locked away in prison for who knows how many decades because of murder?
Meanwhile, the imposter smiled at her and fiddled with a pink clip keeping brown her out of her face. And it looked better on the double than it would have on Ochako. The audacity! Fuming, Ochako clenched her fists. What was wrong with the double? Why was she so freaking cheerful – so shamelessly happy when she had completely derailed Ochako’s life? Even if before the murder everything wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, at least Ochako had been able to venture outside without being hounded by a cashier.
Ochako sent the imposter a death glare. “Stop smiling. You killed a guy. You can’t take that back. There’s nothing to be happy about.”
The imposter’s face instantly shifted. “Ugh, why is everyone so upset about me killing one guy? He was gonna stab me too. It’s not my fault he can’t aim properly.”
The beating in Ochako’s chest petrified. She envisioned if instead of the imposter she’d been strolling through the hidden back alleys, porcelain skin dripping with youth. Greedy eyes stared at the curves beneath her coat. An image of the corpse flashed before Ochako. The graying hair and stubble branded him as middle-aged.
The hostility retreated from Ochako’s voice. “Why didn’t you tell the cops it was self-defense?”
“Like they’d believe me. I’ve got a creepy, villainous, blood quirk.” The imposter traced a heart in the dust on the factory floor. “What else am I supposed to expect? And it isn’t like he was my first murder victim.”
Ochako opened her mouth to lament over how death was nothing to be so casual about but she clamped a hand in front of her mouth. She recalled off-hand comments in middle school about how the water had been turned off back home and how her classmates would gawk at her. Or the confused expressions from her sandbox friends over how she wasn’t joining in on the field trip. The tears swelled in her mother’s eyes as Ochako passed her that first wad of cash. Tangles festered in Ochako turned away from the imposter – because while she’d never injured anyone, it wasn’t as if thieves were moral paragons. She gulped at the dried blood clinging to the imposter’s skin – a sign of untamable blood lust. Ochako wondered whether the double was also a victim of circumstances beyond her control.
Standing up, Ochako scaled the supply cartons. Once she reached the window, she turned toward the double one last time. “Well… I guess you had your reasons. We’d better head out. The cops are bound to find us eventually.”
The imposter pressed her thumb and index finger together. “Okie dokie.”
Sticking close to the walls of nearby apartments, Ochako held her breath as if the slightest sound would be enough to give away her position. As the rain drizzled to a stop the stiffness in her limbs finally ceased and she gradually inched forward. Thank God that the downpour had stopped. Ochako’s day was already crappy enough without it. Her hand reached back to confirm that the double was alright – but her touch only grazed air. Instead, a high-pitched scream pierced through the silence.
Before she could process, Ochako was sprinting toward the corner. Yet her knees froze in place amid the flicker of sirens. Why was she rushing in to help a perfect stranger? A stranger who’d made a mess of everything. It’d be so easy. Yet all logic flew out the window as Ochako sprinted forward, bracing all ten fingers.
Because the mournful expression of a face so similar to Ochako’s own still lingered. Ochako wondered whether the girl would’ve still buried the fact that she’d nearly been molested beneath layers of nonchalance if someone would’ve reached out to help her. Like how maybe if someone had lifted financial burdens off her shoulders – rather than turning away from the ugliness of a kid with tattered clothes – Ochako wouldn’t have been left to rely solely on herself.
Thundering around the corner, Ochako swiped five fingers against the officer restraining the imposter. As the officer floated a few feet in the air, Ochako spewed a stream of vomit onto the pavement. The other officers did a double take of the matching girls. Not wasting another second, Ochako looked away from the bile and took her imposter by the hand.
Running until their lungs burned, the girls didn’t stop until they reached the periphery of Ochako’s apartment. The imposter sighed in relief as she wiped the beads from her forehead. “Thank you so much.”
Ochako waved her hands in front of herself. “It’s no big deal. After all, if you were gonna stab anybody your victim was a pretty good choice.” She eyed the imposter’s expression that was a little too enthusiastic for comfort. Ochako hadn’t thought that the corners of her cheeks could stretch so far upward. “Though I’d appreciate it if you’d stop walking around with my face.”
“Whoopsie, I completely forgot about that.”
Slime oozed off the imposter’s body, leaving Ochako vaguely queasy at the sight of seeing herself melt. A blonde girl with two messy buns blinked back at her. A set of fangs flashed like knives. Enchanted by gold eyes, Ochako barely stopped herself from letting out a whistle. Goddammit, this girl was so cute it was criminal. Ochako looked away before she could say anything dumb.
Clearing her throat, Ochako waved toward the imposter. “Well then. Take care.”
“You too!”
Giggling to herself, the girl slipped off her coat at pressed his against a brick wall as a pillow. With closed eyes, she nuzzled against the dumpster. Ochako’s eyebrows raised as the imposter unleashed a yawn.
“Why are you taking a nap next to a dumpster?”
“It’s bedtime.”
Ochako crossed her arms. “Then why aren’t you going to sleep at home?”
The imposter swatted the air. “Because I don’t have one, silly.”
With a pinched expression, Ochako took in her imposter’s dirtied clothes and shoes. She recalled the days when she’s shivered on the streets because a heist had gone awry, she had to abandon the stolen television that was just too much for her quirk – and no matter how much she’d begged the landlord just wouldn’t push back rent another month. Ochako turned toward the clouds. This girl is going to be the death of me.
“You can stay at my apartment tonight. Can’t have another creep bothering you and let this cycle start all over again.”
“Yay!” the imposter exclaimed as she raced over to wrap Ochako into a soul-crushing hug. “Thanks a bunch, Floaty Girl!”
“Floaty Girl?”
“Well, I have to call you something, right?” the imposter chuckled.
“Ochako is fine.”
“I’ll call you that then. Ooh, and you can call me Himiko. It’s nice to meet you!”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Ochako answered. And she was surprised that it wasn’t a lie. Because for all the trouble Himiko had caused, it was comforting to finally meet a kid pushed toward crime just like her.