Chapter Text
When Himiko woke up, the first thing she saw was piercing, fluorescent lights.
She hated those. They reminded her of perfect, clean spaces, meticulously organized clinics and therapist offices. Scrubbed to shine, plain and white, the very picture of normal. Maybe that was why Himiko never felt right there, like every inch of her was taking up too much space. Maybe that was what it meant to be a freak.
Every muscle in her back tensed up, straining to get up and shatter those flickering lights to pieces. Yet as soon as she tried to sit up, her body seemed to give up on her, weighed down by exhaustion and the stiff feeling of tubes poking out of her skin.
The feeling made everything sharpen into view for Himiko. An IV drip standing beside her bed, the beeping of a heart rate monitor. She was wearing a blue hospital gown, such an ugly sheet of fabric it didn’t deserve to be called clothing, and under that her body had been wrapped up in bandages like a mummy.
Despite all that, though, Himiko could feel it: blood. Running through her veins, underneath her skin. When she glanced up at the drip again, she noticed a bag full of crimson red, attached to her left arm.
Slowly, it came back to her. The pain of losing Jin for good, the furious pounding of her heart at the sight of all those heroes, those so-called protectors of society, who thought they knew what was best for her. Who wanted to trap her in a cage and be done with it.
All except one.
Ochako. Himiko had given blood for the first time in her life for Ochako-chan and her sweet words, for her gentle touch and the way she’d looked at Himiko. Those eyes, filled not with disgust or fear or even pity.
Just… love. It had been like seeing herself reflected back, wild and bloody and desperate to feel.
She'd wanted to make a world easier to live in. Maybe she had failed, but she knew down to the very bone that Ochako wouldn’t. Even if it took her years, decades even, there was no way she could fail. Not when she’d already done the impossible by loving a monster.
That was why Himiko had been okay with it: closing her eyes for the last time, falling asleep to never wake up again. The feeling of Ochako against her side, breathing ragged but alive , had been as comforting as any light at the end of the tunnel could be. Warm and bright and constant, like a gentle hand waiting for her on the other side.
But there had been no other side. Just the cold, unfeeling white walls of this stupid, ugly room.
When the door across form her bed creaked open, Himiko curled up and hoped it was Ochako. Unfortunately, she wasn’t so lucky, because the person who entered was a tall man in a doctor’s coat and a clipboard in his hands.
The only thing keeping Himiko from groaning was the soreness in her throat. Great, just what she needed—another “professional” who thought he knew what he was talking about.
“First of all,” the doctor started, voice gruff, “there are licensed heroes outside, so I advise you not to try anything.”
With her muscles feeling like cardboard, Himiko thought she couldn’t even if she wanted to. All she did was stare, hoping her eyes conveyed everything she was thinking since her tongue still felt too heavy for her mouth. Satisfied with her apparent docility, the doctor mustered enough bravery to step forward.
“Your blood type, A positive, is fairly common, so we were able to get you replenished quickly enough. You can count yourself lucky,” he explained. Himiko wondered if that was true; after all, wasn’t she going to be thrown into prison after this? Locked up like a bird in a cage and left alone for the rest of her life? Was coming back to a life like that so lucky?
Her fingers curled into the blanket covering her legs. Maybe Ochako wouldn’t allow that to happen, but she had her own life to live.
When Himiko didn’t respond, the doctor kept talking. A lot of white noise about vitals and wounds, and somewhere along the line he introduced himself, but Himiko didn’t care to remember his name.
All she could think about was Ochako. Was she here? Had she come back for Himiko? When she walked through that door, tired but alive, what would she say?
Himiko knew what she would say. Thank you, Ochako-chan. Even if we aren’t forever, that moment meant a lifetime to me. One time Jin spoke about parallel universes, and Himiko had wondered whether there was a world that had accepted her from the start. When Ochako had touched her face so gently, it felt like she was peering into that different life, like her touch had contained that piece of cosmos.
It was already too late when Himiko realised she had begun crying again. The tears dripped down her face and onto the blanket, making dark spots where they landed. This pain, this ache in her heart, wasn’t new. She’d longed for people she couldn’t have a thousand times before.
Yet somehow this time it was different.
“I understand this must be a lot for you,” the doctor said, voice so close to sympathetic. “If you have any questions, I’ll answer to the best of my ability. Though they haven’t told me much either.”
For the first time since she woke up, Himiko forced herself to talk, even if every word felt like a knife being scraped against the inside of her throat.
“Where…” she murmured hoarsely, “is Ochako-chan?”
Raised eyebrows. A frown beginning to pull at his lips. “I’m sorry, who?”
“Ochako… Uraraka. The hero Uravity.” Her voice was nearly a croak with how rough it was. “I want to talk to her. Please. Where is she?”
“Uraraka Ochako,” the doctor repeated, as if testing the name out would help him remember. Apparently, it did, because his eyes widened in realisation as he scribbled something down on his clipboard. “Yes, she did mention you when we brought her in. Insisted that you be treated like a civilian.”
By the tone of his voice, he didn’t like that very much. Himiko, though, felt her heart skip a beat, the monitor beside her beeping erratically. That was just like Ochako, so selfless even as she was hurting.
“So where is she?” Himiko leaned forward, the pounding in her head growing more incessant, pain rippling through her forehead at the strain of movement. Still she pushed it aside, because her heart pounded just as excitedly at the thought of seeing those round eyes and kind smile again.
The doctor coughed. His discomfort showed clearly on his face, despite doing such a good job at staying relatively calm up until now. “I’m afraid she can’t,” he said, and this time he actually sounded sad. Sympathy for heroes, none for villains. Just typical. “She’s still… under care.”
“But she’s okay, right? When can I talk to her?” A bad, nauseating feeling started to dig itself deep in Himiko’s chest, but she tried her best to ignore it. Of course Ochako was okay. Himiko had given everything to make sure of it.
“She’s alive,” he said, but the grim look on his face didn’t exactly assuage her. “And we’re working on getting her stable, but she’s lost a lot of blood and sustained a large number of serious injuries.”
Tears came to Himiko’s eyes before she could say anything. Her head pounded even more, the agonizing pain like the beat of a drum against her temple. It hadn’t been enough. After everything, she hadn’t been enough.
“Let me see her.” The desperation in her stomach crested like a wave, driving her to scramble forward. Her legs collapsed as soon as she left the bed, but she forced herself back up. She had to see Ochako, now , before anything happened. So Himiko could be by her side just in case the worst came true. So she could say sorry for being the one to live. “Please, I won’t do anything, I just have to—”
“You must not, Toga-san,” the doctor rebuked, pushing her gently back onto the bed with minimal effort. Himiko looked in surprise at the sound of her name, being addressed so formally. Like she was just any other patient. Even he looked shocked with himself, too. “I assure you, they’re taking care of her. No one is allowed in until she’s stable.”
His voice was kept neutral, but the message behind it was clear: it’s not because you’re a villain.
Himiko closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Thinking about other people, their expectations , before doing what she wanted… it wasn’t something she did often. But now she thought of Ochako, and her request to the hospital: to treat Himiko Toga like a human being, like a normal girl. Even if she knew it might be the last thing she ever said.
If she caused trouble now, it would all be for nothing. Himiko didn’t care what all the doctors and nurses and security guards thought of her, but if Ochako was going to try so hard for her, then Himiko had no choice but to do the same.
“Just tell me,” Himiko forced out, the words feeling like acid burning up her mouth. “If something happens… tell me, okay?”
Her voice was broken and pathetic, but it wasn’t a request; it was a demand. The doctor seemed to recognise this, too, because he nodded and scribbled down something on his clipboard. He cleared his throat and this time, when he made eye contact with Himiko, he almost looked like he was seeing her as a person.
“There’ll be nurses coming by soon to check your vitals. And I’ll make sure to have you notified if Uraraka-san’s state becomes worrying. After that, what happens to you is… out of my hands.”
Which meant, cuffed and locked up forever, most likely. Himiko bit the inside of her cheek so hard it bled. What a worthless life to live. But maybe she’d try to stick it out if Ochako kept her promise.
When she looked up again, the doctor was gone. Himiko was left alone with nothing but her own thoughts and the steady beeping of her own heartbeat on the monitor. Her eyes stung as she stared at the plain white ceiling, blurred and grainy through the hot tears.
“It’s not fair,” she croaked to herself, to whatever being up there was listening. “It’s not fair… at all.”
She couldn’t think about Ochako. Couldn’t entertain the thought of her laying in bed, breathing ragged, time running out, all because of Himiko. How could someone be like that, placing such faith in their killer to the very end? Someone like that, so selfless, could only be someone who loved just like Himiko did.
But she wasn’t going to think about it.
Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to keep herself from jumping out of bed, running out that door, and going to wherever Ochako was. When the nurses came in and stuck needles up her arms and pressed cold metal tools against her skin, Himiko welcomed the incessant voices and unpleasant sensations.
Anything to stop Himiko from dwelling on the image in her head of the last smile Ochako ever gave her.
They had put her to sleep again.
She didn’t remember falling asleep, only remembered waking up, mouth full of saliva and mind full of haze. This felt more like a regular nap, rather than the blackout she’d been in when her body had given out from blood loss.
The feeling reminded her of the slow days with the League of Villains, lazing around while they waited for the perfect time to carry out their plans. Falling asleep with Jin on their ratty old couch and waking up to the low rumble of his snoring. Blinking the tiredness out of her eyes as the light of the setting sun shone through the blinds.
Dull pain struck through her heart. Jin was gone, that place was gone, the League was gone. That would never happen again.
Nothing in the room had changed, but they’d taken off the IV drip and the monitor had been detached from her. When Himiko stumbled out of bed, her legs felt weak but held her up like they were supposed to.
Before she could stagger out of the door like a newborn deer, it creaked open on its own. A frail-looking nurse, smaller than even Himiko, peeked in. She looked nervous. Maybe it was her first day on the job. Maybe she’d never been this close to a villain.
She had a rather cute face, eyebrows pinched together like that, her dainty nose scrunched up in fear. It reminds Himiko a little of Ochako’s cute eyebrows, the way they furrowed when she was angry. Her heart ached again—or maybe it had never stopped.
“Toga-san?” When Himiko turned to look at her, she nearly curled into herself. “You, um, I was told to call for you. It’s related to one of our patients.”
In a heartbeat Himiko had already crossed the room. Without thinking she leaned in, grabbing the nurse’s wrist in her hand. “Ochako-chan?” She said, surprised at how desperate her voice came out. “Uraraka Ochako… is it her? What happened to her?!”
The nurse was so scared she was nearly whimpering, trembling in Himiko’s grip. She should have backed off, but the thought of Ochako getting worse, the colour running out of her face scared her. What if she was already laying there dead, a corpse who’d never know how grateful Himiko was—
“Yes! It’s related to Uraraka-san! But the person who called for you is a pro-hero student. We’re still trying to help the patient, so please don’t interfere just yet!”
It seemed it took all of her bravery to get those words out, because after that she was back to quivering. If it was another pro-hero student… either they wanted to ship Himiko off to prison, or they wanted to talk to her about Ochako. Those were the only things she could think of, anyway.
“Who is it?” Himiko asked lowly. “The student.”
“Oh, uh, what was his name again? Um, Deku! Yes, that’s right. Midoriya Izuku. So many wounds. Poor boy. They healed rather quickly, though.” The nurse jolted herself out of her pondering. “Uh, not that it matters! So, please, follow me!”
For a moment, Himiko had half a mind to dig her fangs into the nurse’s wrist and drink her blood. Sneaking into Ochako’s room, when she could find it, would be a simple matter of strolling in. She bet it would be easy. She bet it would taste sweet, too. But then she thought about Ochako’s utter faith in her, and the horrified look on Izuku-kun’s face when he’d seen her. Why ever would he want to see her now?
Curiousity took precedence. “Alright,” Himiko huffed, restlessness already building in her legs. “Let’s go.”
“Okay,” stuttered out the poor nurse, before bringing Himiko’s wrists together and slapping on a pair of cuffs; probably quirk-cancelling. Annoying, but Himiko didn’t care all that much. Too late for subterfuge, she supposed. “I’m sorry! Please follow me.”
Feeling like a sad, lost puppy, Himiko trailed after the nurse as she walked. Everywhere she could feel eyes on her. The fear, the nervous breaths as she passed, that she didn’t mind. She’d been dealing with that her whole life. But the worst was the pity. Poor girl, poor villain. Such a shame she was born the way she was.
There was nothing wrong with the way she was born. It was everyone else that had a problem with her.
Soon, they stopped in front of a door. No special signs, no fancy technology, just another nondescript hospital room. Himiko wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. Didn’t a hero like Izuku Midoriya deserve special treatment, or something?
After knocking on it a few times, the nurse gently opened the door. Himiko peeked in and saw that familiar head of green hair, singed and chopped up but still as messy as ever. “Just let her in,” she heard him say, voice hoarse, “it’s fine.”
“If you’re sure, Midoriya-san!” The nurse said, before bowing to him and scuttling away. Himiko stepped in herself, feeling like she’d gone from one prison to another.
This room was near identical to Himiko’s. Same size, as far as she could tell. Same stiff sheets, same shiny metal devices set up near the bed, same ugly white fluorescent lights. The difference lay in the dozens upon dozens of gifts that covered the walls, corner to corner.
Izuku looked so young like this, wrapped up in bandages and sitting placidly in bed. There was none of that rage or desperation in his eyes. He didn’t look upset at the sight of Himiko, either.
“You’re lucky.” His voice sounded rough, like it hurt to speak. Maybe it did, because he coughed loudly, thumping at his chest. “I managed to wrangle Kacchan out before you arrived.”
“Oh,” was all Himiko could bring herself to say. She was pretty sure Kacchan was that angry blond with the explosion quirk, always by Izuku’s side. He looked a lot cuter when he wasn’t screaming, though.
“He shouldn’t be out anyway… he’s not in a really good state himself… but, ah! I’m getting off-topic, sorry.” Izuku gave a sheepish laugh. “How are you feeling, Toga-san?”
Like complete shit, was the honest answer. Physically, she felt fine. Really, she’d been through worse. Yet there was a pain in her heart that wouldn’t stop, and this time she couldn’t run away, because everything she loved was right here.
“Where’s Ochako-chan?” She asked in lieu of an answer, because really it was a stupid question anyway. Izuku probably knew that.
“Right. Of course you’re wondering about her. I don’t blame you.” With shaky legs, Izuku stumbled out of bed. He held onto his IV drip for support, and Himiko stared at the patchwork of bandages and scars all over his body.
Tomura had really done a number on him. The thought of her leader made Himiko long to see him again. Even if they were never particularly close, he was still family. She would miss that stringy white hair and those callused hands: so capable of destruction, but careful when it came to her. To all of the League, really.
The wounds he’d given Izuku must have been painful, but Himiko couldn’t bring herself to be upset or remorseful at all. Did that make her a bad person, a villain? Tomura’d had his own ideals and beliefs. He’d fought for them just like anyone else. Wasn’t that normal?
“I know where her room is. Let’s go there.” Izuku kicked open the door himself. At the surprised look on Himiko’s face, he laughed. “It’s okay. They’re not going to tell me to go away.”
What a classic case of abuse of power by a so-called pure hero. Still, Himiko couldn’t help but smile.
“Lead the way, Izuku-kun,” Himiko said in reply. He didn’t flinch when she said his name. For a while they walked down the hallway, walking past nurses and doctors who looked like they wanted to stop them, but couldn’t. It was hilarious, and she gave a genuine laugh for the first time since she’d woken up.
“First, you should know that… the rest of the League. They’re okay. I can’t tell you all the details right now, but they’re alive.”
Himiko nearly tripped over her own feet. They were… okay. Maybe they’d never see each other again, the League of Villains dissolved forever, but somehow the knowledge that they were out there somewhere was enough for her.
She longed to go back to what they once were, creating the world they wanted. Together. That was all over now, but maybe that world wasn’t as out of reach as they’d thought. After all, if people like Ochako Uraraka could exist, then maybe this world wasn’t so done for just yet.
Hopefully they knew that. The thought of Dabi seething at his old man in some jail cell forever made Himiko giggle to herself, though.
“As for Uraraka-san,” he continued, and the formality of the address made Himiko stop for a moment. With how Ochako acted about Izuku, she’d thought they would’ve progressed further than -san, at the very least. When she thought back to all the other times she’d seen either of the two, it occurred to Himiko that it had always been that way. Always so distant. Were they like this alone, too?
The thought made her curious. For all the prying she’d done into them, she really didn’t know what their relationship was actually like.
“I got to talk to her before they admitted her,” he said. “I wasn’t in the best condition either, but I think she had something she wanted to say.”
Trying so hard for a friend who he didn’t even refer to by first name—now that was picture-perfect heroism, alright.
“She kept talking about you, didn’t want you to be treated badly. Said that you deserved proper treatment, just like any other person.” This wasn’t news to Himiko, but hearing it said out loud from another witness made her warm all over again. When she smiled, Izuku smiled too. “Uraraka-san has always been that type of person, right? She’s seriously one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”
Kind enough to show mercy to someone like me, Himiko thought. “Yeah,” was all she said.
Izuku heaved a sigh, followed by a coughing fit. When his hand drew away from his mouth, there was no blood, so it couldn’t have been that serious. “Toga-san,” he said, voice hoarse, “I… I’m sorry. What you did was wrong, and you need to atone, but I shouldn’t have dismissed your idea of love so quickly. Especially since I—I also know what it’s like to want to… be more like the person you love. I just didn’t realise it back then.”
Somehow, Himiko had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t talking about Ochako. She didn’t comment on it, instead reaching forward to pinch his cheek. He flinched, but didn’t jerk away. “So now you get me, Izuku-kun,” she said affectionately. “Don’t worry, I forgive you.”
“Oh… well, thanks.” He coughed awkwardly. “Well, about Uraraka-san… she’s, um—”
“Toga Himiko? There you are. The doctor told me to call for you,” a different voice, a different nurse, called from far away. A panicked look appeared in Izuku’s eyes as he turned to Himiko.
“It was you who saved her, you know?” He said, almost frantic. “When you gave her your blood, it saved her. She wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. You should know that.”
The nurse walked closer. Himiko looked between the two. She would wonder why Izuku seemed so frazzled, but the heavy feeling in her chest seemed to already have a feeling. “What happened to her, Izuku-kun,” she asked, throat tight like there was something constricting around her neck.
“You did the right thing.” Izuku was being sincere—when was he ever not?—but the urgency in his voice scared Himiko. “Deep down, Uraraka-san really, truly believed that you were a good person. I can tell.”
“What happened?” She repeated.
Izuku didn’t get the chance to reply, though Himiko doubted he would have even if they had been left alone. As it were, she would never know for certain, because right then the nurse walked up to them and deigned to answer her question.
“Midoriya-san, I told you to stay in your room. I understand that you…” She sighed, glancing back and forth between the two. This one seemed considerably braver than the one before, as she cleared her throat. “Well, never mind that. We’ve completed the tests on Uraraka-san. She’s stable for now.”
Somehow, that didn’t sound like good news to Himiko. The nurse’s voice carried a foreboding tone to it, the words for now hanging eerily onto the end of the sentence as if that might change. Izuku didn’t say anything. All he did was turn away, the wheels of his IV drip squeaking, his hand clenching at the rod so hard it was probably going to bend in half.
His pained expression, the urgent words, that melancholic pity written all over the nurse’s face. Himiko had seen it a hundred times before, in clinics, in offices, the faces of people waiting to tell her that her life was unsalvageable, too beyond repair.
When she picked up her knife for the first time, Himiko swore she wouldn’t let anyone look at her like that ever again.
“Uraraka-san suffered from a great amount of blood loss and sustained damage to her vital organs.” While her voice wasn’t accusatory, the way her gaze landed on Himiko certainly felt that way. “As I said, she’s currently stable, but she won’t respond to any stimuli and hasn’t regained consciousness for over twenty-four hours. Simply put…”
Himiko’s chest felt tight. She looked to Izuku, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. All your fault, a voice in her head whispered.
“She’s in a coma. And we don’t know when she’ll come out of it… if at all.”