Chapter Text
“I have to admit,” Himiko says slowly, so drowsy that his tongue feels delayed as it moves around his mouth, “I thought that getting revenge and these guys down would be a lot more… interesting.”
He lazily casts a glance at Jin’s equally slumped and tensionless frame out of the corner of his eye, not bothering to stop a frustrated huff of air from escaping his lips as the reality of their situation sinks further in.
“Do it for my sake,” Tomura had said, the sunlight dazzling splendidly in his blood red eyes as they bore into Himiko and Jin alike, imploring even without the addition of his words. “For our sake. Take responsibility.”
The way he had said it lit a fire in Himiko’s chest in an instant. The determined tone in his voice was nothing compared to his relaxed stance, entire body open as he uttered the words. He made no secret that he was leaving this job entirely up to them - and trusting them with it utterly.
It was that same fire that spurred Himiko all the way into the belly of the beast, and got them into the Shie Hassaikai’s base itself.
Their initial meeting with Overhaul had Himiko’s heart racing as their own words were turned against them by the Confession quirk, revealing everything they wished to conceal. The details of their own quirk were laid bare, and yet it wasn’t fear that sent their heart slamming repeatedly into his ribcage, as perhaps some people might’ve felt; it was the sheer thrill of the challenge they saw lying ahead.
Though Jin wasn’t spurred on by the possibilities of this new enemy to conquer, he was just as resolute as Himiko was. They both had things they needed to prove and, at first glance, this seemed to be the perfect opportunity to do just that.
The Shie Hassaikai, however, seemed to have other ideas. They needed Himiko and Jin to prove their loyalty, and had said as much themselves, yet not once were they willing to actually allow them to do so. Every opportunity was brushed aside without another thought, causing the grand takedown Himiko has built up in their head to slowly but surely crumble away, becoming crushed underneath endless hours of just sitting here uselessly.
Jin threw himself into this far more passionately than Himiko chose to, doing anything he could to gain the trust of the yakuza members surrounding them. The weight of grief, of self-blame for what happened to Magne drove him just as much as Tomura’s words did, sending him above and beyond. Yet his actions yielded nothing, for no one around them was willing to accept so much as a helping hand.
Normally, Himiko wouldn’t judge such a clearly warranted inability to take them at face value. They’d understand the lack of trust, and welcome it, too; it would be a marker of their opponents’ intelligence.
This time, however, it rubs them the wrong way. A mild way of saying that it sets their blood boiling.
Jin’s persistent efforts have gained nothing, and Himiko’s plans of destruction raining down upon this place are nowhere close to fruition. All they’ve achieved are long hours filled with nothing, supposedly on guard duty when they are both fully aware that they’re not trusted enough for such a thing yet, that there are others stationed nearby to cover their area.
Himiko lets out another sharp sigh at the thought, glaring daggers at the floor as if it’s personally offended them. Before they can voice a word of complaint, however, the sound of footsteps slices through the air.
He tenses involuntarily as Overhaul’s rigorously polished shoes march into his field of vision, and his head whips up. Without sparing Himiko a single glance, Overhaul instead approaches Jin.
Himiko’s muscles seem to wind even tighter at that, coiling like a spring poised to strike as he waits for him to speak.
“Bubaigawara,” he says in a clipped tone, ignoring the wary glance Jin throws his way. “Your Quirk has become optimal for a job at last.” Overhaul’s words are brief, but they hold a weight behind them in implications.
This is your chance, he is saying. The only one you’ll get. This is how to prove that we can trust you. It’s an opportunity that cannot be passed up.
Regardless, Jin looks to Himiko before speaking. He can’t see his face, of course, but he knows him well enough to know what he must be thinking inside. Jin can’t allow himself to mess anything up now; he won’t survive it if he does.
Slowly, stiffly, Himiko nods. It’s the slightest gesture, but he can still picture Jin’s face hardening with resolve in response to it.
Jin takes in a deep, calming breath, before asking, “What do I need to do?”
With a final thumbs up shot at Himiko, a throwaway attempt to assure him, Jin turns, and stays on Overhaul’s heel until they’ve disappeared from sight. Himiko grins the moment they’re gone, relief they didn’t realise they’d feel washing over them as they realise that their plan is finally moving. It’s still got a long way to go but, with this move, they’re off the starting line.
Heads will roll, of that much they are certain, and Himiko will love every second of it.
…With Jin gone, however, their fabricated guard duty is ten times as dull. The endless empty corridor doesn’t provide any external stimuli whatsoever - nothing to look at, and certainly nothing to fight, which Himiko is itching for ten times as strongly now.
In the absence of everything, their mind returns to where it always seems to nowadays: Magne. Their fists clench once more at the thought of her alone, and of the injustice she faced. They uncurl their fingers and stare long and hard at the crescents dug into their palms by their nails, wondering, not for the first time, how it’s fair that they escaped without a scratch, yet Magne didn’t leave with her life intact.
There is nothing they can do but lie in wait for the perfect moment to strike, they try to remind themself. They simply need to stay on guard until they can rip the rug out from under Overhaul’s feet.
Who knows how long that will take, Himiko thinks bitterly, as they once more resort to counting the tiles on the floor to have any chance of directing their thoughts away from the burden on their heart.
The world remains just like that - painfully still - until they hear… something.
The sound distinguishes itself soon enough as a thumping, seemingly with no rhyme or reason, emanating far enough away that Himiko has to strain to hear it. Their eyebrows furrow as the intermittent noise seems to hasten, becoming frantic and growing ever louder as Himiko finally pieces together what it is.
Footsteps.
Tensing, they shoot to their own feet, a scowl forming on their face as they turn sharply to face whoever is headed their way.
Himiko’s jaw only drops slightly when a ridiculously tiny child runs into view. Her eyes dart up and down, from the girl’s red face, to the bandages swallowing her limbs whole, to the tattered dress she’s wearing, before returning to her face, and the strangely calm expression on it.
Himiko cannot be fooled by something as simple as facial muscles, of course. She can tell what a person is feeling through far more reliable sources. Her nose tells her everything her eyes cannot pick up, and her nose tells her that this girl is frightened; deathly so.
Her heart is pumping her blood around her body at such a rate that Himiko feels dizzy just to stand near it. Somehow, though, not a single ounce of that fear is directed at Himiko herself.
Her mouth tugs downwards into a frown at the very simple conundrum: this girl does not fear her in the slightest.
It’s not as if this girl has seen her for who she really is, but people always seem to be able to sense Himiko’s abnormality before they see it for themselves. They tend to turn on her from a sixth sense alone, and a small warmth blooms in her chest at the idea that someone other than the miscreants she usually associates with doesn’t see her like that.
Something about this girl makes Himiko think that maybe she has been dragged down by their world, too.
She really does need her to run along, though. Himiko has no idea who this girl is, but if she messes anything up in this place, she’ll pay dearly for it. In a way, Magne will, if Himiko can’t pull herself together enough to get her the vengeance she deserves. One wrong move and everything she’s been working towards could be zapped away.
She may not be able to show the girl the full extent of her love for others at a time like this, for there is no one’s blood to claim, but there are certainly things she can do to put her off.
Just to move her along, Himiko justifies to herself. Just so I can focus on what matters.
Straightening to her fullest height, she moulds her face into the most sinister grin she can muster. Wickedly sharp canines and an unsettling expression are bound to do the trick, and send such a young girl running for the hills.
A few seconds is all it takes to confirm that Himiko has made a miscalculation, for the girl remains utterly unphased. It’s not just her face that remains impassive, though. Her heart still pounds, but not any faster than before. Himiko almost reels from the shock, but chooses to settle her resolve more firmly.
She raises her hand to her own mouth, and bites straight into it, eyes never once leaving the girl’s. Though the warmth and sweetness of the liquid that floods her mouth should be a sign of victory, all Himiko feels is a rising frustration as the girl stands, unblinking, at her feet.
“What’s your name?” she asks eventually, eyes narrowing into a glare as her frustration mounts.
“Eri,” the girl answers simply, the word sounding as if it’s a struggle to get out. She’s still breathless from running, and her heart still screams in protest, but Himiko hasn’t achieved a single thing. Nothing could prepare her, however, for what was about to happen.
Without a second thought, Eri tosses a curveball right at Himiko’s face, and it collides with unprecedented precision.
“Can you… Will you help me?” Her voice is small, trembling in the air, and Himiko feels as if she’s been slapped. Despite all that she’s shown her, Eri isn’t shrinking away from her in the slightest. She isn’t screaming or crying, begging Himiko to just be normal, nor is she sniggering at her oddity.
She probably doesn’t know any better, Himiko thinks. It’s naivety that keeps her from running as fast as she can in the opposite direction.
Somehow, the voice of reason in her thoughts doesn’t dispel the pleasant feeling radiating throughout Himiko’s body. It doesn’t silence her heart.
She should send Eri packing right away; it’s the logical thing to do. It will keep her on the right track - the one that will take her to a place where she can defend Magne’s honour for all she’s worth.
For some reason unbeknownst to Himiko, though, that seems secondary when there is a girl before her shaking like a leaf. It seems insignificant when she is faced with an overwhelming terror, even when that terror is not her own.
Himiko has always intended to live her life as she wants, and do whatever takes her fancy. No matter the impulse, she is determined to grant herself it, and yet-
Yet she can’t escape the very simple truth that she has to be a villain in order to remake the world. Not through her eyes, but through the world’s, and there are very few people who are willing to join her in such an endeavour.
Her fellow League members wouldn’t mind if she saved this girl, not really - no matter how much Tomura would complain, just to give her grief. Himiko almost thinks they’d welcome someone so obviously dealt a losing play by their societies’ standards. Thus, there should be nothing to stop her.
Except, this would be an unavoidable distraction from the task at hand, and Himiko is determined to be absolutely ruthless to this world that has failed her so. Except, she won’t let Magne’s death be in vain.
“Scram,” she snarls, face twisting as she practically spits the word.
Eri doesn’t need to be told twice.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The regret Himiko feels is immediate in its appearance and ruthless in its efficiency, but they shove it as far down as they possibly can. They scrunch it up within them, and intend to never look upon it again.
The fact that they could’ve helped someone just like them still floats through their mind. As their plans for revenge finally begin to form, as the Shie Hassaikai begins to open the door for them at long last, they don’t say a word.
If Jin notices the scattering of Himiko’s thoughts, he’s kind enough to not mention it. They just wish their thoughts surrounding the girl - Eri, Himiko reminds themself, before promptly trying to wipe her from their mind - would have the same consideration in not forcing their way into their focus.
Despite their insistence to themself that she can’t possibly matter, and in defiance of their steadfast commitment to unravelling the Shie Hassaikai from the inside, Himiko finds their ears pricking up. Whenever they and Jin find themselves in the company of other subordinates, whether it be at mealtimes or snatches of conversations in the corridors.
They find themselves hunting for information, hungry for it. A mention of bandages has them trailing a small group relentlessly until they finally realise that Eri was never the subject of their conversation in the first place. Any whisper of children has Himiko’s head swivelling as they try to determine whether one specific girl is going to be mentioned.
Jin picks up on the change almost immediately. Himiko isn’t surprised, for breaking their laser focus is certainly no easy feat, but they still tense up when he begins the questioning.
Concern is all Himiko hears, both for him, and for the mission. It’s all he was expecting. What comes out of his mouth, forever, is far from the usual pattern of what he’d respond.
“It’s nothing.” The blatant lie almost tastes sour on Himiko’s tongue, especially when directed at someone so dear to him, but he forces it out all the same. “I’m just trying to find out anything they know that could help us do what we came here for.”
Jin knows Himiko well enough that he’s not fully convinced. He can see it in the tenseness of his muscles, can smell it in the way his heart nervously shuffles bloody to and from his limbs.
But Jin also trusts Himiko. He doesn’t question him further, and that stings more than they could’ve possibly imagined.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
For all their digging, it’s not Himiko that is able to bring themself to Eri. She certainly doesn’t fade from their mind, not even once; her beaten appearance, anxious demeanour and, most of all, haunting plea for assistance etch her into Himiko’s mind. They are all too familiar, too close to their own self to vanish so quickly.
Despite having a corner of Himiko’s brain constantly occupied, however, the active searches they are driven to still get them nowhere even close to finding Eri again. Himiko ensures that they overhear everything, from mind-numbingly dull gossip to the extent of the Shie Hassaikai’s future expansion plans, but Eri’s name and description are either known only by few, or not worthy of discussion for these people.
Even their attempts to weasel something out of Overhaul fail. There’s no doubt in Himiko’s mind that he has something to do with it, but they’re at a checkmate. The only way to check up on Eri, the mission they’ve chosen to take on themself, is to jeopardise their true purpose here, what they've been sent here to do by their only family in this entire world. They can’t afford to be in any way obvious, they can’t push him to answer their carefully constructed questions, or alarm bells will be sent tolling in his head.
In the end, Himiko has nothing to do with locating Eri. Instead, it’s a stroke of luck that leads them to where they need to be.
Himiko is still not as trusted as Jin has become by the Shie Hissaiki, which more often than not leaves them right where they were when this all started - stuck on guard duty, staring dully at the wall opposite from them.
They’re not certain as to whether it’s Jin’s excellent performance of loyalty or their own twisted nature that sends even mobsters scuttling out of their way, but Himiko chooses not to dwell on it.
No matter what the reason is, they find themself alone again, but it’s not exactly the same as before. This time, their frustration is at a boiling point.
Since arriving on base, Jin has managed to charm everyone he’s come into contact with. He’s weaved his words just right to make his way to Overhaul’s side, even if he is being held at arm’s length.
In stark contrast, Himiko has done worse than not make any progress; the sudden entrapment of their heartstrings is actively endangering their mission. They’ve chosen the completely wrong time to gain an affection for someone they don’t even know.
Himiko can feel their thoughts spiralling further the longer they are left to stew alone. The daggers inside their mind are swelling, expanding, and the only way to dispel them is to ensure they don’t remain stuck in one place for longer than absolutely necessary.
The frustrated march they set off with takes them far. Spurred by a bubbling rage, Himiko doesn’t even notice where they’re going, and certainly doesn’t bother taking note of the way back. Their surroundings shift, becoming more unfamiliar than even this entirely alien base is, but they don’t have the energy to spare more than a passing observation to that fact.
It’s only when Himiko stumbles upon the door that they realise how far they’ve come. It’s only as they tentatively inch inside that they understand the enormity of the goldmine they’ve struck.
For right in front of them is the very last person they expected to stumble into.
A smile slips onto Himiko’s face instinctively at the sight of Eri, but she doesn't take time to examine that. Instead, she steps forwards, only to be smacked in the face by the overwhelming wrongness of the situation she is faced with.
Eri flinches away from Himiko as she approaches, causing a slight (and very unwarranted) sting in her chest. It makes sense, of course; Himiko was more than just terse with her last time they saw one another. Her concern only grows more piercing, however, when she spots the tear tracks cutting down Eri’s cheeks, and the way she’s curled in on herself, as if to create a shield from the rest of the world.
Himiko opens her mouth, though she has no plan for what to say. She can’t ask if Eri is okay when she’s so clearly not, and as much as she feels a longing to apologise for the brash treatment she administered to her during their first meeting, she doesn’t want to make this moment about her when this is the sight she is faced with.
Such terror doesn’t belong in the eyes of someone so small, Himiko decides. In the world she is creating, such a thing will never be permissible.
For now, though, there is nothing she can do to prevent this - she doesn’t even know what happened here! - and that stings. Himiko has no idea what has left Eri in such a state, much less a clue on how to help her.
Pushing her own internal ache away, Himiko scoots slightly closer to Eri, not missing the way the latter tenses up. Ever mindful of what led them here, Himiko stops a healthy distance away, and simply sits by Eri's side, trying to ignore the twinges in her chest at each soft cry she hears.
Neither of them move for a long while. Space stays firmly wedged between them, but Eri eventually stops casting frightened glances at Himiko’s form after each bout of sobbing, ensuring she doesn’t move even an inch closer.
Eventually, their eyes lock, too. In real time, Himiko watches as a mask of false bravery shutters over Eri’s face. She tells herself it doesn’t hurt that it’s not real. After all, it has nothing to do with her. Though she will one day make a world to shelter people like Eri, she resolves to not feel anything surrounding her at all.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Himiko doesn’t let their new indifference towards Eri leave the girl stranded, of course. It’s only natural that they begin to look out for her in all the small ways.
Gaining some ground with the Shie Hassaikai and its members is a massive help. Increased trust leads to more jobs, which leads to more connections, and eventually ends up at more opportunities. Himiko continues to keep their ears and eyes open for any way to ensure a continuance in Eri’s safety throughout it all, and their job just gets easier the higher up the ladder they climb.
This is the world they want to build; one where not a single person can be cast out by society. It’s only logical that they should want to help Eri, Himiko justifies.
They tell themself that emotions have nothing to do with it.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The lie persists for a good while. This world may be in serious need of shaping, but one way Himiko can do that is by delivering vengeance on behalf of a woman whose life was stolen immaturely. Their focus on Magne draws their thoughts away from Eri to an extent, allowing them to brush aside their feelings in favour of getting things done.
Besides, it’s two birds with one stone now. Overhaul has done far more than steal Magne’s breath from her lungs, for it is he who forces Eri down. In one fell swoop, Himiko will complete two missions, without allowing a single drop of caring to penetrate their heart.
Or at least, that’s what they think until they begin to care for a reason entirely different than the one that had attempted to win them over before. That’s what Himiko believes until Izuku is in the picture.
Their caring returns like a blow to the stomach in the wake of his actions, and yanks them mercilessly between two extremes of emotions. The first one that reaches them is pure despair.
With the Shie Hassaikai blown right open, Overhaul is plucked up into the government’s grasp without delay. In a matter of hours, he is being guarded by some of the strongest heroes their country has to offer, and countless more officers and much more foolproof technology. His security is tightened to a bursting point, all to keep him in.
Only, what keeps Overhaul trapped in serves just as well to keep the League out.
Just like that, vengeance becomes an impossibility. It’s ripped from their grasp before they even realise it’s in danger of being unfulfilled. The blood and sweat poured into gaining the Shie Hassaikai’s trust runs down the drain.
Yet there is a part of Himiko, one more buried and quiet, that experiences an elation like no other, for Izuku once more achieved what he did best. He left no one behind, and he got Eri out. There is no doubt in Himiko’s mind that she’s happier now; she’s safe.
Or, there should be no doubt. Though Himiko isn’t sure what drives a small voice within them to pipe up, it’s no less annoying when it makes its way to the forefront of their mind, battling their other concerns for their focus. They are caught in the middle, with too much to think about to act on any of it at all.
Staying cooped up in the League’s base all whilst bursting at the seams drains Himiko faster than they could’ve imagined. After their and Twice’s close brush with the pro heroes, leaving is an impossibility. They’re fully aware that leaving would mean risking death, but it’s hard to focus on such a fact when Himiko feels as if they’re going insane.
The rest of the League, though not bound as they are, tends to remain mostly sedentary, too. That’s why Himiko shoots into an upright position, abandoning their moping on the sofa the instant they spot Tomura reaching for the door, with Dabi and Spinner right on his heels.
“We’ve found an opening,” Tomura begins without prompting. “We know where he is.”
Himiko doesn’t need to ask who he is. Not so much as a second thought is needed to determine that justice for Magne is within their grasp, but-
Himiko’s heart sinks at the realisation that he won’t be the one to deliver it for her. He tries to dismiss the feeling, knowing full well the futility of it, but still slumps slightly as he watches them go.
Knowing that part of their troubles are dealt with should provide a sense of ease but, as Himiko flops back down and their eyes meet with the ceiling above them, they realise that this is even worse.
Before, despite the enormity of the struggles they were torn between, there was no time to fully dwell upon the ramifications of both of the issues. With Eri’s fate given room to breathe, it expands ruthlessly, scenario after scenario flits through Himiko’s mind.
It’s utterly illogical. Izuku saved her, and if she were in any kind of distress, he wouldn’t rest until she was happy once more. Himiko has seen similar things countless times; his determination is one of the many reasons they admire him so.
There’s nothing that is as soothing to the soul as seeing proof with your own eyes, though. Himiko, it seems, is susceptible to the notion.
Leaving the base can only end three ways. The first is one that Himiko is counting on: that they will somehow be able to locate Eri, and confirm her happiness for themself, without getting caught. The second two are far worse, though it’s only the final option that truly makes Himiko’s stomach roil.
They could be killed. Their time could be cut short before seeing this world become the League’s own, before even assuring themself of Magne’s justice being secured.
Capture seems worse in Himiko’s mind. Having their wings clipped would be bad enough, but they know they would be shoved down their throat, too. To some heroes, it wouldn’t be enough to prevent them from ever setting foot outside again. Some would only be satisfied if they were forced to conform to society’s norms, twisted and bent until they were not themself at all.
Just as their affection for Eri is, just as their subsequent worry despite her rescue is, this move can only be described as idiotic. Everything within them knows that the chances of this ending well are less than slim, but nothing can change the fact that Himiko wants this.
They have always known it will take force to bend the world and its people, but Himiko has sworn to themself to do whatever they want regardless, even before the world has been set right. They won’t allow themself to turn away from something they are yearning for.
They march out of the League’s base without so much as a word of goodbye.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
UA is the most logical place to start their search, so of course it’s the most risky as well. Himiko refused to entertain worries of how to get inside until they arrived, not wanting the thoughts to get to them, or for their feet to slow subconsciously.
Therefore, as they stand just feet from UA’s main gates, the problem becomes both unavoidable and unsolved. Or, it does, until Himiko considers the many vials of blood already on their person. They may not have any students’ blood to hand, but as long as they appear believable enough they should be able to at least get through the door.
Stealth will have to do for the rest of the way, Himiko decides as they tilt their head back to down the blood. I still can’t really afford to be seen, but at least the sight of me won’t be enough to alert people to the fact that something’s amiss.
Himiko very quickly discovers that UA isn’t as secure as it appears, as long as you don’t pass by the gate and the guards. Once they’re in, there’s almost no one around to see them. The heroes in training and pros alike are all occupied with their lessons, not sparing anyone in the corridors a second glance. And, on the rare occasion that Himiko does pass some cleaning staff or general studies teacher by, they all assume that they’re supposed to be here. They can’t see the racing of their heart; all they see is someone who they assume has to have made it past security already.
It’s in this way that Himiko begins to scour the site. They’re on the clock until the blood runs out, and they doubt very much that Eri will be in the main building, so Himiko is quick to move on to the dormitories.
They dither between the teacher’s rooms and 1A’s block. On one hand, it’s very unlikely that she’d be allowed to stay with a class full of teenagers, but Himiko also can’t picture which teacher would take her in.
The shrill ringing of a bell startles Himiko to their senses. Classes will be flooding out of the building any second now; they certainly don’t have the luxury of standing around here. Without allowing themself to second guess the decision too much, Himiko dives for the apartment block belonging to the teachers.
Just in time, too. The moment they slam the door behind them, taking in deep breaths, the sound of hundreds of feet begin flooding past. For a moment they remain, tense and still, but a moment is all they allow themself.
Sighing through their nose, Himiko creeps further into the building, uncertain of where to begin. Each corridor they turn down is empty at this time of day, and every door is identical to the others. Himiko doesn’t let the failure of their eyes stop them, however. Instead, they turn to their ears.
If Eri is in here somewhere, they reason, she won’t have been left alone. There has to be some conversation going on or, at the very least, some sign of life. Not many children can sit quietly for any length of time.
Himiko makes their way across an entire floor before they’re proven correct, but a grin blooms on their face all the same.
Bingo.
Himiko remains entirely still as they listen. A voice they don’t recognise is the loudest, both entertaining prompting responses from someone else. And, when that other person speaks, her voice may be quiet, but it sends fireworks dancing through Himiko’s heart.
Eri may still be quiet, may still be solemn, but she’s not scared or hurting. She doesn’t string off long sentences, and there doesn’t seem to be overt joy in her tone. Contentment is the word that comes to mind, and it’s not one Himiko dislikes.
Holding their breath, they press their eye to the slit in between the door and the wall. Wood digs uncomfortably into their face, and it’s an extremely limited field of vision, but it’s enough. They see her.
Eri is sitting with a student with blond hair and a massive grin. A smile doesn’t decorate her own face, but even the slight snapshot Himiko gets is enough to tell that her eyes are twinkling.