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Death leaks onto the floor in the shape of red liquid. The man spits at Ochako’s shoes right before he dies, and Ochako scrunches her face up. Himiko also pouts at that.
“It’s a shame.” Himiko hums, but Ochako knows that Himiko isn’t regretful. “He was cute, too.” There’s a pause, and Himiko smiles at Ochako. Ochako raises an eyebrow.
“But he turned really really ugly once he was a big meanie, ‘Chako-chan!” Himiko says, leaning for a kiss. And with a fond sigh, Ochako leans towards her.
Ochako is 15, and there is dirt beneath her pink nails. There is red splattered on the marble tiles of the hospital, and Himiko looks most like herself when she has blood on her face. Himiko’s lips taste like blood. They taste like freedom, too.
She wonders what it says about her to enjoy it, even with Himiko’s fingers stained with blood cradling her waist. Ochako wonders what it says about her morals that she enjoys this, knowing who she is pretending to be.
Himiko looks most like herself when she has blood on her face, Ochako notices. Like a bird whose wings were tied together too long, only now setting her pretty wings free. Only now having a taste of peace.
Ochako just looks like a girl playing house with blood on hers. Like a girl holding a thing too big for her, but trying to fit the role of killer anyways.
Himiko, who is beautiful and magnetic beneath the moonlight, licks her lips and swallows blood. The remaining shine of her cherry lipgloss clings to them, and Ochako blushes shamelessly. Finally, it is sounding like the nurses are noticing the silence in the room when there were sounds of yelps and sniffling before.
Ochako tries not to shiver at the corpse. Red blood clings and drips, and it looks disgusting. Ochako gags, but quickly shoves it down.
“They’re noticing, Himi.” Ochako says worriedly, eyebrows furrowed and voice dropped to a murmur. Himiko pouts, but lets go without protest. They open the window, and carefully, Ochako lightly flies them out with a grimace. Nausea churns in her stomach, and her face turns green.
The man had bone sticking out a little, white. His face was ashen and pale, his blood bright and red. His eyes, once bright and fearfully wide in it's ocean color, were still open. His eyes were dazed, not quite seeing, not quite alive. He looked dead, so dead. He would begin to rot soon, if he wasn't already. With his bone sticking out, his guts slipping onto the hospital floor. Himiko sucked his blood that night, but didn't transform. Soon, the maggots would begin to gnaw on his delicate bones, his fragile hands that shook when he was dying.
The mask on her face doesn’t help with the nausea, either. Himiko doesn’t need a mask, she’s a notorious villain, so of course she will do villainry. But Ochako Uraraka? UA 1st year student? They wouldn’t expect her to be with Himiko, and the consequences would be dire.
It’s not that Ochako hates heroes. She doesn’t, she finds herself fond of them.
It’s not that Ochako hates UA, either. She loves the school.
She just loves Toga more.
It’s why Ochako agreed to be Himiko’s friend's little informant. Not a traitor, but an informant. You can’t betray something you never were a part of in the first place.
Her parents were loving and doting, but they left Ochako hungry as a child. And that hunger still echoes in Ochako’s bones, still leaves her heart thumping and mind asking for more more more. It’s a restless hunger, something that will not go away even if Ochako tries. Her bones grow itchy, and the hunger claws beneath her skin. It never goes away. But it can ease itself, Himiko can soothe it. Himiko can quiet the hunger with her smiles, the balm to Ochako’s unease, to Ochako’s wanting for more.
So no, Ochako doesn’t like murder. She detests the smell of decaying, of rotting. The taste of it, she will never mind, but that is solely because it is the way Himiko’s body consists of. She doesn’t like the ugly sight, nor the moral dilemma that comes with it.
But Himiko?
Himiko makes it all worth it. She soothes Ochako like it’s instinct. Her eyes seem to glance towards the stars right now, as if she wasn’t a star herself.
Himiko’s magnetic eyes, eyes that glisten the most when she has blood on her nails. Eyes that sparkle the most when Ochako tastes the blood on her lip. Ochako doesn’t mind the slaughter, not anymore, because Himiko loves it.
Himiko kisses her cheek, her smile gleeful and loving, and Ochako laughs as she waves her goodbye. If Himiko loves this, Ochako will tolerate it. If this is the cost of making Himiko happy, Ochako will bear it.
Himiko will always do this, with or without Ochako. The difference is that Himiko is happier than ever now that Ochako knows about her.
So Ochako bears the blood. Ochako helps Himiko, no longer that anxious 13 year old girl that first time she helped, she doesn’t close her eyes in disgust or fear. She doesn’t like it all the time, but Ochako would never stray away from Himiko. Because Himiko helps soothe the hunger, the wanting in Ochako. If this is what Ochako needs to do, she will do it. What Himiko couldn't help was meant to fester. That is what Ochako told herself. That is what Ochako said to try not to shake in fear of herself. (Never of Himiko, never Himiko who couldn't help the urges.)
The violence will always come easy when you do it because you want to.
The slaughter will always come easy when you do it for love.
(.)
Ochako Uraraka is 13 years old and she is washing the blood out of Himiko’s hair.
She should feel scared when Himiko hums cheerfully, kicking her feet from where she sits on a table in a warehouse. She really should be scared, as Himiko’s knife glistens red.
She doesn’t.
Ochako can’t fear a girl like Toga. Maybe that’s for the worse.
Ochako washes the blood off Himiko’s hair, yet the blood just sticks to her hands instead.
(.)
In the quiet, Himiko curls into Ochako. She sits in Ochako’s lap, playing with Ochako’s phone while babbling about her newest murder. Ochako curls into Himiko too, hoping that one day there won’t be any space left between them. Ochako stays quiet, if not a bit awkward, as Himiko giggles about the way the blood looked so lovely and so pretty on the man’s face.
She looks so much younger like this though, Ochako muses. Himiko looks like an average teenage girl, 16 and beaming. She looks happy. More happy than she was at 12 and 13, at the very least. Himiko Toga finally looks free, and she is high on the feeling. Ochako is too, because her Mama and Papa don’t know a thing about this. It bursts a feeling of giggliness in her, as Ochako plays with Himiko’s hair.
Himiko never had a chance in this world.
That’s fine.
They’ll just make a new one where she could be accepted and understood by the norm. Where society would look at her and see a teenage girl. Not whatever they saw now, not her quirk, but her as an individual.
Ochako was born lucky in a way Himiko wasn’t.
One day there will be no luck. Just kindness. Ochako will make sure of it.
“I would die for you,” Ochako tells Himiko. She wouldn’t die for heroism, nor for a point. But love? Her love she could die for.
“I would kill for you,” Himiko tells Ochako. She wouldn’t kill for a boy, nor for her anger. But Ochako? Ochako she could kill for.
Himiko smiles like she isn’t alone anymore.
Ochako smiles and tries not to feel the weight of blood on her hands. There was once a time where Himiko took out the heart of a homophobe and handed it to Ochako. Ochako did vomit that day. Ochako had kissed Himiko on the cheek and told her not to do it again, and Himiko listened like all the great lovers do.
Himiko tastes like blood and gore, like the weight of one hundred men, but she tastes like freedom too. She tastes of cherry lipgloss, one Ochako knows she stole from a big company. But this is how Himiko feels like:
Home, or like something holy.
Himiko feels like home, the warmth of her skin pressed against Ochako’s own, the distance between them that won’t ever close when they are in two different bodies. Himiko feels like something holy, something bigger than her. Like a purpose.
Himiko bites on Ochako’s skin, sometimes. Bites down with sharp teeth and kisses the bruise, like Ochako’s pain is something divine. Ochako will hum, and then kiss Himiko on the lips, leaving a bite on Himiko’s lower lip. They never leave scars, at least never leave scars that would matter. Himiko tastes like blood and love. And Ochako will wonder if she tastes like an open wound.
Himiko never lies to Ochako. She calls Ochako lovely and beautiful in a way that matters. She curls into Ochako, and looks at her with something like devotion. Like worship, maybe. Ochako, to some degree, knows this is not normal. But she can’t bring herself to care. She is the exact same, after all.
She wasn’t always like this. But Ochako has never liked to dwell on the past.
They would die for each other. Kill for each other. Aim each other's blade with loving hands, even if they got killed in the process. There is something gentle in their shared girlhood, something hungry in their stomach.
Bleed me dry, Ochako would say, I would let you if it made you smile.
Ruin me, Ochako would say, I would let you if it made you feel understood.
Himiko is what Ochako needs.
Someone who loves her so much it looks like poison to anybody else.
(.)
Ochako hangs out with Mina and Hagakure after school and tries not to feel guilty.
For Himiko, Ochako reminds herself as she paints Mina’s nail and giggles as Mina rants on her crush on Kirishima. This is what it means to love someone, Ochako knows. To be willing to lose everything for them. Even if Ochako didn’t have much in the first place.
For the League, Ochako reminds herself as Hagakure curls Ochako’s hair with the quality of a hair stylist. Hagakure’s nails are long, a soft pink. The same pink of Himiko’s bracelet.
She reminds herself of the hunger. The gnawing in her stomach that twists and turns but never goes silent. It screams at her, and she thinks it might kill her one day. Her hunger wants more than Ochako can get, her hunger is always wanting more. Ochako isn’t a greedy person, but she’s a starved one. She’s been starved of everything for too long.
“Ochako?”
Ochako doesn’t want to kill them. Doesn’t want to hurt them.
She knows most wouldn’t think about murder, not in the way Ochako does. Like a bandage that covers her wounds. Himiko thinks of murder like nutrition. Like a thing she desperately tried to ignore until she couldn’t, starved of food. Himiko was hungry, not in the way Ochako was, but she was hungry. Hungry for blood, or love, maybe.
Or something.
It's always fucking something.
“Ochako?”
Suddenly she remembers she’s in Mina’s house. Right.
Hagakure’s voice interrupts her thoughts, hesitant and nervous.
Ochako blinks.
“Are you okay? You totally zoned out.” Mina asks worriedly, eyes intently searching Ochako’s face.
“Oh no! I’m okay, I swear!” She finds herself saying automatically, face flushing to a bright pink. Ochako waves her hands around, saying some excuse she doesn’t even remember.
Ochako laughs and tries to ignore the knot in her stomach.
This is what it means to love.
She can’t forget it.
(.)
The League of Villains isn’t something of Ochako’s specific interest. It’s not that they aren’t interesting, to an outsider, they are. But Ochako only agreed to be a member for Himiko and Himiko alone. She wants to help Himiko be happy, and if changing the world is what it takes, then it is what Ochako will do.
The League needs power. They need information.
Himiko needs stability, and the League can offer that to her, to both of them. But first, Ochako must give information. So she takes her phone, takes Deku’s notebook, and sends photos of information to Himiko’s number. Of pro heroes, of classmates. She doesn’t need to send her own page to Himiko, Ochako’s devotion is with Himiko. And by association, the League.
show it to your colleagues, himi. I love u
:0 !!!!
omg >u<
this is tots useful !!
I LOVEEEE you
Ochako smiles, and carefully puts the notebooks the way they used to be. No need to get Deku suspicious, of course.
Ochako would feel bad if she cared for him any more. Or if she cared about Himiko any less.
(.)
She thinks of being a villain.
The bloodshed, the slaughter, it comes smoothly. Not easy, never easy. But Ochako has been watching Himiko, helping Himiko, kill since she was 13. Ochako’s bones move instinctively to it, holding the blade stiffly, but correctly.
She is a villain, Ochako reminds herself. She’s always been one, and Ochako knows that to some degree. Ochako is not a hero, never has been. No matter how much she’s pretending. And standing in front of Aizawa, with bodyguards by his side, she knows the pretending is done. The act is done. Ochako can stop pretending to not love Himiko.
Even when her fingers shake, she presses a button.
ua foud me, Ochako texts, hastily and nervously.
It was an act, she reminds herself.
(Cruelty comes easily when it’s for a purpose. Everything is.)
Her name is Ochako Uraraka, and she is so very loved. Her name is Ochako Uraraka, and she will die holding Himiko Toga’s hand one day. Ochako Uraraka is loved. So very loved.
It’s what hurts the most, though, the love. She learns this in her debut, with Himiko at her side. Himiko’s blood stained fingers softly hold hers, and Himiko kisses her hand and smiles wide. Deku watches, so does Mina, and so does Hagakure and everyone. Every one of them. Her stomach churns, and Ochako knows it’s not because of her quirk this time. She feels like hurling. Mina is screaming her name, but so is Himiko.
But like all too hungry, too violent girls, she was born covered in blood. Ochako will die covered in it, too.
Ochako was always meant for this type of life. The only difference is the title bestowed upon her.
Ochako frowns, Himiko grins. Fangs and all.
“Let’s go home, ‘Chako.” Himiko says. She gazes Ochako's cheek, tender, lovingly. Gently. Ochako could nearly forget Himiko used these same hands to gut a man in the stomach a few days ago, and that Ochako helped. And so she does. She forgets about that, and stares Himiko in the eyes. Her eyes begin to sting.
It's always a trade. Isn't it? Trading out her UA friends for Himiko and- and-
A hand reaches out, nails pink, smiling with her fangs out.
And it'll be worth it. It'll be worth it, it has to.
Ochako inhales, and takes it.
(She doesn't love blood. She doesn't like the feeling of a knife in her hand, so unnatural and stiff. But Ochako loves Himiko Toga. And she thinks that might be enough.)
(It has to be enough.)