Chapter Text
Izuku is dying.
That's the only way to describe the way his lungs burn, agonizingly begging for a breath of fresh air. The smell of sewage floods his senses as he resists the urge to gag.
“It’ll only hurt for about forty-five seconds, then it'll all be over.” The distorted voice of the villain interrupted Izuku’s whirling thoughts, seemingly in a poor attempt to get him to stop struggling.
His cries fall silent, as tears well up in his eyes as he finally realizes how screwed he is right now. No one is coming. He isn't going to be saved.
Hands claw at the sludge blocking his airways, his vision dimming with every second that passes. Helpless doesn't begin to describe the ache in his stomach, as his body is enveloped in a dark fluid that forces its way down his throat.
He has never been more terrified in his life until now. Never almost died until now.
The last thing he hears before passing out is All Might’s booming voice, and the wind rushing past his ears.
—————————
Izuku wakes up to the familiarity of his bedroom. Inhaling sharp breaths, he shoots up in a flash, coughing up sludge that is no longer there. His hands wrap around his middle, clutching his stomach.
What time is it?
His body twists to look above his bedside so he can read the time on the clock.
2:36 a.m.
He blinks twice, laying back down as sweat pools on his forehead. Izuku tries to rest once more, changing positions every few seconds to get more comfortable. After several minutes of shifting in bed to no avail, he simply gives up and decides to do other things to pass the time. He considers writing in his hero notebooks, before tossing that idea out the window.
The feeling of sludge remains in Izuku’s throat, so he sluggishly treks his way to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
Getting a glass from the cabinets feels like a chore in and of itself, his grip on it so loose it could shatter on the floor at any moment if he was careless enough.
The rushing water pouring from the tap sounds almost thunderous in the stillness of his apartment.
Lifting the glass to his lips, he downs it in one go, desperate to soothe his throat.
Even as the liquid washes down the disgusting feeling in Izuku’s mouth, his limbs feel jittery, shaking ever so slightly every step he makes.
Maybe some fresh air would do him some good.
He trudges back to his room, practically throwing his closet open to find something to wear over his pajama shirt.
Scanning through the assortments of ironic t-shirts, he finds his hoodies, almost all of them hero-related. One of his All Might ones catches his eye, and he frowns slightly. Two weeks have passed since he met him, and the events of that day are still fresh in his mind.
He saved you, shouldn't you be grateful?
He ignores the thought easily, pushing aside the hoodie for a plain dark purple one that was two sizes too big.
Sliding it on, he haphazardly writes a note for his mom that he's out for a late-night stroll, just in case she wakes up.
He struggles with tying the shoelaces on his bulky red sneakers before giving up entirely, making a bow that seems like he put it in a blender and spat it out.
Throwing open the door, the cold night breeze makes him shiver slightly as he takes a few quiet steps to the sidewalk below.
Maybe some fresh air wasn't such a bad idea after all.
—————————
Himiko is having that dream again.
The little red sparrow jumps around excitedly in a frenzied tap dance. Despite its mouth being open, nothing comes out, as she watches it continue to hop restlessly. Her tummy is the stage it dances on, and Himiko is its only audience. Flapping its wings excitedly, it almost seems like the birdie will fly away. It never does.
The feeling never goes away, does it?
The show has taken a pause. It's jarring how quickly it went from a joyful trot to pecking incessantly at her belly button.
Peck.
She feels a sharp pain rise from somewhere. It's not her tummy.
Peck.
She reaches out for the sparrow, slowly inching her hand to grasp its bloody feathers. Why is her hand covered in blood?
Peck.
Talons dig into her insides, blood seeping out of the hole in her tummy. Mommy and Daddy wouldn't be happy about the bloodstains, she thinks offhandedly as the blood spreads rapidly. Soon enough, her entire torso is covered in the dark liquid.
A smile breaks across her face. She looks super cute with the blood covering herself. Dreams like this always manage to make her feel better after spending an entire day acting Normal.
Unfortunately, dreams don't last forever.
She wakes up with sharp pains in her palm. Her hand pulls away to reveal a jagged wound, with cute blood spilling out.
The bird is gone, and her thirst remains.
Swallowing the rest of her blood, she slides out of bed and skips to the bathroom to find a bandage.
She wishes she wouldn't have to cover up the blood, but it wouldn't be a good idea to trail blood in her room. When that had happened, her daddy had yelled at her for hours about how a “nice young lady” should behave while her mother cried in another room. She didn't get it. Her mommy had a transform quirk like hers, and her daddy’s blood tasted sweet. He used to let her nibble on his arm before her quirk came in. Before everything.
That was when she learned how to be Normal. It was difficult for a while, to hide her smile, but when middle school rolled around, she had finally figured it out. She knew how to walk normally, how to talk normally, and what a normal girl would like. Who a normal girl would like. She learned how to fade, make it so no one would ever know she was there if they didn't look for her.
The bandage feels too tight on her skin, restricting blood flow, turning her hand slightly blue.
The thirst hasn't faded.
She needs to get out.
Stumbling, she barely has the sense of mind to not leave the house in nothing but her pajamas.
Tossing on a pink sweater and grabbing a pocket knife hidden under her mattress, she bounds out the door, carelessly putting on a pair of sandals by the door.
Himiko dashes across the sidewalk, hoping to pass by an animal, injured or otherwise—anything to get rid of the dry feeling in her throat.
For who knows how long, she keeps running. Pleading the birdie to come and dance in her tummy once more. And then, she smells it.
Blood.
A wicked grin dons her face as she frantically scampers towards where the scent is coming from.
As she starts to fade, she hears a cry of pain.
“Hey—get away from me!” Glancing down the corner she was about to turn, is an adult woman pressing her purse to her chest. Her fist is clutching a key ring, with dots of blood scattered across the metal, barely visible in the dim light.
There’s a man there as well, who tenses angrily before balling up his fist around a knife.
“Just gimme some cash! C'mon, won't you help a guy out?” He's shouting, and she doubts that even if she wasn't faded right now, he wouldn’t have noticed either way. The cut on his arm glistens, drawing Himiko in.
Taking advantage of his distraction, she aims a kick to his back, causing the man to cry out in shock and pain. She doesn't let him get away quite yet, shoving the knife straight into his arm. Despite all the trouble she got into when she was younger, she's never actually stabbed someone before, her fangs usually doing all the work for her. The blood seeping out of the wound causes her to go into a trance, as she salivates at the idea of getting a taste.
The lady recovers quickly, running down the street, supposedly to call someone. She doubts any hero would come here though, they wouldn't gain any publicity for helping out with a crime like this.
Himiko’s thoughts are interrupted by the guy crying out before he sweeps her legs out from under her. While she tries to get back up, he tries slashing her nose with the knife he was holding before. Barely backing away in time, she scoots across the ground to put more distance between them. As much as she loves blood, losing her face wouldn't be very cute.
She hates to admit it, but it doesn't appear that she'll win this fight. Jumping up, she turns on her heel and springs in the opposite direction.
Turning her back on him wasn't the right move, however, since the knife he was holding shot past her arm, scraping it. Normally, that wouldn't be a deciding blow, but as the knife rockets past her, she stumbles slightly, falling forward.
Barely managing to not fall flat on her face, she scrambles to her feet.
It isn't fast enough.
The man grabs her by the throat, holding her up. The grip on her neck keeps tightening as she slowly realizes what's happening.
Is this-is this really how she's gonna die?
Tears well up in her eyes unbidden. She tries to scream, but her throat locks up in pain. She flails uselessly as the man glares at her, teeth bared in a menacing sneer.
Help—somebody, help me!
Why doesn't anyone ever help her?
‘She’s some kind of deviant!’
‘Himiko, stop smiling like that! It's so creepy!’
She should have gone back to bed. She should have suppressed her thirst like she has every other night, satisfied with the dream of the red sparrow digging into her stomach.
Maybe if she had tried harder to be normal, this wouldn’t have happened.
Her thoughts are cut short by a smaller figure barreling into the backside of the man choking her.
The man’s grip loosens slightly in shock, as the smaller boy spares a glance at Himiko’s tearful face.
“Hey, don't cry! Everything’s gonna be okay…”
All of her words are caught up in her throat as she stares at the smiling face of her savior.
“…Because I’m here!”