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“...and, that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
There was a silence at the table between the two figures.
The man drummed his pencil against his notepad, where notes and sketches were drawn out. A recording device sat on the table between them.
“So she essentially died of …a blood donation?” he said, adjusting his glasses.
“Well, blood loss, and untreated injuries,” said Ochako, quietly. She bit her lip. “The medical team prioritized me, obviously.”
“Right, right. That makes sense,” said the man, making an additional note on his notepad. “This is the first time I’m hearing some of this information, bear with me.”
“Of course,” said Ochako. “As we discussed last week, there was no news footage. The camera team lost power, if I recall.”
“Yes, I’ve interviewed the reporters on site as well who were kind enough to give their testimony as well,” said the man, quickly flipping through another notebook. “Though, It just seemed rather fishy that their camera somehow ran out of battery and-”
“Well, I’m just grateful for the opportunity for her story to be told,” demurred Ochako, cutting in.
“So, she wasn’t arrested?”
Ochako blinked, taken aback.
“What?” she said. “No, I just confirmed she died. Who told you that?”
“Well, I recall there had been a bit of a push to keep her name out of the media, as she was a minor,” the man said, tapping a few articles strewn about his desk. “I managed to get an interview with the League’s old broker who confirmed the media had been keeping her name out of the press following some of those blood-letting murders.”
“Ah,” said Ochako, with a neutral expression.
“So as the news footage about her was very censored already, I wondered if perhaps there was information I was missing. For the ending, you know,” the man said, running fingers through his shoulder-length hair.
“I very clearly stated, she’s deceased,” said Ochako curtly. “There’s no secret conspiracy hiding her away in a prison that I’m aware of.”
“Quite right,” he said, jotting some additional notes. “I had been debating with my editors just what we would do if additional information came out in your last interview. I’m glad this all aligns. And her dying is fitting, honestly. Given all the crimes she had committed, there has to be some responsibility.”
Ochako said nothing, her face tight.
The man leaned back in the chair, adjusting his black face mask. “I’m just really not all that interested in writing about societal or social issues of the real world or anything like that. You know, whatever the League was about,” he said. “I just want it to be interesting.
“Mhmm,” said Ochako, noncommittally.
“I was saying to Midoriya, I’m far more inspired by American comics! Oh, have you read X-men? I was telling him-”
“Are we done, sir?” Ochako interrupted. “I agreed to the final interview.”
“Of course, of course, my apologies,” he said, waving a hand. “Just, one more thing.”
He leaned forward. The red light on the audio device remained on.
“I heard rumors,” he said. “That at some point, you were leaving syringes of blood near the forest where the uh… where the battle had taken place.”
“What?” laughed Ochako. “That’s absurd!”
“Well, that certainly would be the sort of thing I would be interested to include,” he said, tapping his pencil. “If she was, somehow alive…”
“Himiko Toga died saving my life,” said Ochako. “Those are the facts.”
“So there was no leaving syringes of blood at Gunga forest?”
“Really Horikoshi-san,” said Ochako, smiling. “You shouldn’t such silly rumors.”
Ochako checked her phone and slid her pink hoodie up over her head as she left the huge Shueisha building. She strolled down the street, ducking down a side alley, lest any hero paparazzi try to catch her after the interview.
Dodging fans and the media was bad enough on a daily basis, but with the increased press attention on the new ‘documentary’ (“If it can be called that,” thought Ochako), she had been extra cautious.
She turned down another side street to a small cafe off the beaten path. A figure waved at her from a table outside, and Ochako felt her shoulders relax almost instantly.
She trotted across the street, suddenly feeling light in a way that had nothing to do with her Quirk, as she sat down across from the woman with sandy hair.
The other woman was dressed in elegant black and red ruffles; scarlet ribbons and bows dangled from a black chiffon blouse. The birds and flowers on her skirt fluttered as she swung her legs in delight at seeing Ochako. A dark bonnet shaded her glittering, yellow eyes, and a glint of fangs flitted around the straw of her cherry-red drink.
“I wish you wouldn’t wear such extravagant coords,” sighed Ochako, though she smiled. “I don’t want you calling attention to yourself. Especially with all this new publicity about the manga coming out.”
“What are you talking about?” trilled Himiko Toga, twirling one of the scarlet ribbons dangling from her hair. “I’m just another gothic lolita down in Harajuku. There’s hundreds of us.”
She loudly slurped the bright red drink in front of her.
“So how’d did the interview go?”
“Fine. I stuck to the story. Same one we always have.”
“They’re all hacks,” Himiko said, swirling the cherries at the bottom of her drink with a straw. “They’re all out for what story is gonna net them the most cash. This guy's no different."
“I think this one was a little more savvy than some of the others,” said Ochako, warily. “He uh…he knew about the vials in the woods.”
“Oh?” The golden eyes flickered up in surprise.
“Yeah, said he’d wanted to write about that.”
“Really.” It wasn’t a question. There was an edge to her voice with the briefest flash of fangs.
“I told him it wasn’t true, obviously,” Ochako said, hastily.
“Well I mean, we did have to do that for a while,” said Himiko, thrumming her fingers on the table. Her nails were painted black with red splatter at the tips. “That, and once I recovered a bit we started switching places with each other too. Damn.”
She sighed heavily, her bangs and ribbons fluttering. “I wonder how he knew.”
Ochako knew that Himiko was likely thumbing one of her knives under the table.
“That’s what worries me,” said Ochako. “He knew more than most people."
"People have been trying to get this written for ages, especially since there was so much censorship at first," growled Himiko. "Those reporters really saved our asses when they destroyed the footage. I sure hope this guy bought it."
“Yeah, I saw them yesterday after their interviews,” said Ochako. “They stuck to the dead batteries story.”
“It’s a dumb story.”
“But it’s worked,” said Ochako. “We’re keeping a tight circle around this.” And protecting you, was the unsaid part.
“And Tsu isn’t talking?”
“Of course not, Himiko. Never.”
“Well, I’ll hope it doesn’t go anywhere,” said Himiko. “None of the other writers or filmmakers got their shit published.”
“I have a feeling this guy is a little different,” said Ochako. “He’s got a Jump deal already. They’re talking about merch, an anime, getting it marketed overseas.”
“Heh, as if you heroes don’t have enough brand deals already,” muttered Himiko. “They’ve been after your UA cohort after the war for interviews and documentaries for years.”
“I don’t know…” muttered Ochako, twisting her hair. “If this one does take off…you might have to lay a little more low.”
“I know how to do that,” shrugged Himiko. There was a resignation to her voice that made Ochako ache.
“You shouldn’t have to,” said Ochako.
The mangaka’s words felt like poison, corrosive. Where was responsibility in a world where criminals like Endeavor and Hawks walked free? His idea of responsibility was for a ‘villain’ girl to die? While ‘heroes’ who had likewise done harm stayed in power? Unchecked? Without consequence?
She wanted to hope. Wanted to hope it would be different this time. Just like she hoped the world could be different. For Himiko.
“I, I know he’s been trying to interview Spinner, and Mr. Compress. And…” Ochako lowered her voice. “Dabi and Tomura are still out there. Maybe, if this does come out, people might start asking some questions, they'll know things don't line up, and-”
“It’s not going to be like that, Ochako,” said Himiko, with that same resigned tone that made Ochako’s chest ache.
“Well, maybe when it comes out…people might…”
But she knew this wouldn’t be true, unable to even finish her sentence.
“Nobody cared about Spinner’s book,” said Himiko, fishing a cherry out of her glass by stabbing it with her straw. “This guy is no different. He’s out for the cash and the hero worship. He’s not going to take the villains seriously in a world still run by heroes."
Ochako blanched and bit her lip, unable to meet Himiko’s gaze.
“You’re cute, Ochako-chan,” said Himiko, smirking as she gnawed the cherry stem.
“Oh?” said Ochako, awkwardly fidgeting with her pink Uravity bracelet. “Why’s that?”
“You think you can fix heroes by being a hero. It doesn’t work that way.”
She eyed Ochako with that glistening, yellow stare that made Ochako tremble with both fear and delight, as if she stared into the eyes of a rare predator.
“But it’s cute that you try,” said Himiko, smiling. “And that’s why I love you, Ochako-chan.”
“Himiko, I-” stammered Ochako. “No, I promise, one day you’ll be able to-”
“So tell me more about this guy,” said Himiko, twirling the stem between her fingers.
“Oh, Izuku loves him because he’s some mangaka who’s into American comics, thinks he’s the perfect fit.”
“Uh-huh.”
Ochako already saw how the writer’s gaze lit up during her joint interviews with Izuku, his frantic scribblings when she had disclosed an innocent, adolescent crush. How readers would most certainly interpret their camaraderie as something more, despite the writer’s assurances he would keep their relationship ambiguous.
She looked back across at Himiko, glittering eyes and sharp teeth and a smile that made her float in a way Zero Gravity never could.
She smirked, thinking about thousands of readers flocking to the hero polls to debate on her supposed infatuation with Izuku, messaging and debating online about if their crush was real.
Let them.
And she thought of Himiko, cloaked in shadow and lace, lurking on the outskirts of her world. It wasn’t the story she wanted, but it was the one that would protect her.
"Hmmm, let's see what else," mused Ochako. "Oh, he's obsessed with Endeavor. Guess he's an old Endeavor fanboy, so maybe he'll be too busy trying to scrub his public image to notice if there are some...inconsistencies on my end."
"Oof. Dabi's gonna love that," drawled Himiko. “So the reporters really stuck to the dead batteries story?”
“Yeah, I saw them yesterday.”
“It’s still a stupid story, I can’t believe he bought it.”
“No stupider than dying of a blood transfusion.”