Chapter Text
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Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I stare down.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The corpse person lays before me. Blood pools around it HIM. His face twisted in pain. His chest caved in unnaturally.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Red drips off my hands, filling the otherwise silent alleyway.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I stare at the face. At the man's face. A middle aged man, who had just been walking at night when he got pulled off the street and killed, all without knowing why. Killed for the simple crime of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. What's his name? Why was he walking? Who is he?
I don't think I want the answer to these questions.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
“Well, that was easy… you good?”
Why did it feel so easy? The ribcage broke so easily against my fists, caving in like paper mache…
“Uhh, hello?”
I stare. His face, covered in his own blood from what I've done.
What I've done.
What I’ve done.
I can't feel my body. My chest remains as still as his. But I can't focus on that.
I did this.
I did this.
Why… Why did I do this? Why didn't I say no? Why did I do this? Why…
Why…
Why…
Why…
Why… Why am I even here?
“...Shit, we don't have time for this. Move it.”
Am I moving? My armour feels so heavy, I can't feel anything though it. The blood drips from my hands.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
My surroundings become a blur. Am I breathing?
What was that man's name? What was his story?
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Did he have a family? People who will realise he’s gone? People who will never speak to him again? Why did I go through with this?
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
What had he done with his life? What else would he have done, if I hadnt… if I hadnt…
I killed him.
I killed him.
I killed him.
My vision blurs. All I can see is the blood. The broken form below me.
All I can hear is the crack. The squelch. The dripping of blood.
All I can feel is the snapping. The ease as his bones broke. The way his chest caved beneath my hands.
“Fuck, you’re really out of it, arent ya’?”
The blood’s stopped dripping off my hands. But I can still hear it fill my ears with its rhythmic noise.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
“Fucken- yo, kid? You gotta breathe.”
Words? Breathe? Am I breathing?
I take a shaky breath. Does any air fill my lungs?
My eyes show me nothing, but I can still see it. The flesh, the blood. His face.
“I’m not paid enough for this shit… I’d hit ya’, but you're wearing armour. Can you hear me?”
More words. I understand them, but I can't hear them over the sound of bones breaking.
I nod slowly.
“Well, better than nothing. Can you say anything?”
My throat is tight. I can't speak. I can't breathe. I can't speak. He can't speak anymore. I killed him.
Oh god I killed him.
Fuck.
I killed a person.
Why did I do what I was told? Why did I do this? Why did I…
Why…
Why…
Why…
I killed a human being.
I think I'm going to throw up.
“Great. Just great. Gonna be here all night at this rate… uhh, oh, here's an idea.”
I can hear the snapping. The squelch. The feeling of something solid giving away.
“So, I've been wondering about something since the other day. You said that the other two pissed off in the woods, leaving you alone with me, right?”
Words. I can hear words. A question? The woods?
“So, I'm just curious, did you cop a feel or anything?”
…
…
…
I blink as the words process slowly in my mind.
“...What?”
What kind of question is that?
“I'm just thinkin’, cause there was no one around, and I was out cold, just seems like something someone would do, ya’ know?”
…
…
…
I turn my head, seeing the form of Purity forming in my vision as I process the sudden question.
“The fuck… no? No, I didn't," I answer, my brain catching up slowly.
Purity tilts her head inquisitively.
“Really? Why not?”
That question actually throws me off even more, and I can't help but blink at her.
“What kind of fucken question is that?”
Purity shrugs.
“I’m just saying, if it were me in your shoes, and all this was right there?” Purity raises her hands up to gesture at herself, shaking her head with a huff, “All I’m saying is they wouldn't be able to pry my hands off with a crowbar.”
“Thats your problem. Professionals have standards. Those include not molesting people,” I respond.
Purity shrugs.
“Sure, kid.”
Silence fills the air.
I take in my surroundings. We’re not in the alleyway, but we seem to be in some manner of run down building. I sit on a crate, while Purity leans on a wall, staring out of a window. Had she dragged me here?
As absurd as the topic at hand was…
“...Thanks,” I say quietly as I clasp my hands.
My bloodstained hands.
“Hmm?” Purity glances over at me.
“For distracting me.”
Purity is quiet for a moment, just staring with an unreadable expression on her face.
“...Don’t mention it. Let me know when you're ready to go.”
With my mind clear, I can start to actually process what happened. What I just did.
I take in a shaky breath as I steel myself.
I killed someone. And I know that the time will come that I have to do it again. But what choice did I have? If I had declined then I would have…
…That's weak. I did this. I joined the League. I was weak. That man is dead because of me. There’s no denying this. No shifting the blame.
I have always believed that murder was the worst thing you could do. Because it's something that can never be taken back. You can never ask the victim for forgiveness.
I don't deserve forgiveness.
I’m a selfish, stubborn man.
I’m a monster.
…
…
…
There's no point in thinking about it. I did it. I can't change it. So I should just move on. No need to worry, right? Besides, if I can't fix it, then there's no point in worrying at all! That's how I've handled every problem in my life, so surely it will work for this!
“...I’m ready to head off.”
If only it could be that easy.
====================================================================
Perhaps what scares me the most is how easy it was for me to fall back into my routine.
After a long night of cleaning my armour, staring into the metal as I wash the blood of the person I killed off it, Purity and I simply return to the bar like nothing ever happened. While Purity spoke with Shigaraki about something or other, likely reporting on the night's events, I simply retired straight to my room.
I didn't sleep that night.
But then, as time passed, I got back to my usual routine. Cooking, cleaning, existing in the hideout.
I don't think about it.
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I stare at the steak as I begin to prepare it for dinner. The red meat, the bloody juices…
I see the man's face, twisted in fear, pain, and confusion, covered in blood as it stares back at me.
I see a caved in torso. Bone protruding from flesh.
I hear bones snap.
I hear flesh squelch.
The man's face smiles.
‘Look at you now, kiddo. Feeling good yet?’
The dripping of the blood fills my ears.
I tear my eyes away from the steak, noticing that the juices have dripped off the chopping board and started dripping onto the floor.
I wordlessly grab a cloth and wipe it up, before going back to preparing the meat with a blank look on my face.
And if I ended up washing my hands for longer than I needed afterwards, washing away blood that wasn't there? That's no one's business but my own.
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But I'm fine.
Really, I am.
Things are fine. I don't think about it. I can't change it. Thinking about it solves nothing.
Why can't I ever believe that?
I spent most of my time since then doing the same things I've always done. I cook. I clean. I sleep. And I train.
====================================================================
I cleave through the air with my guandao, the blade slicing through the air with ease. A two-handed crescent through the air, followed spinning around, slashing in a wide horizontal arc.
I spin my weapon with speed and precision, going through several motions I've been practising. I still wouldn't say I'm ready to use this thing in any practical scenarios just yet, but I've slowly but surely improved with it.
Doesn't mean I'm very good at it though…
I stand still, twirling the guandao back to my side as I let out a breath.
“Very impressive, Michael,” Kurogiri says from the other side of the warehouse floor, where he is watching me from.
I let out a huff at his words.
“Kurogiri, you know I love ya’, man, but my form was way off on that one and you know it. I'm not a child, I can handle being told I need to improve.”
Kurogiri shakes his smokey head at my words.
“Perhaps your form was off on that one, but I was referring to how well you've improved with it. When you first held your blade, you could hardly balance yourself. It's impressive how much you've improved in such a short time,” Kurogiri explains.
I'm quiet for a moment. I don't tend to take compliments unless I've actually earned them. And something like that just seems pointless to me. Sure, I've improved, there's no denying that, but I'd hardly say I've improved at an impressive pace.
Still, I'm not about to say that to Kurogiri of all people.
“Thanks…”
With that, I go back to my practice, swiping and slashing through the air in studied motions.
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Despite my improving skills with my Guandao, my gunplay is still lackluster. However, I've made it a point to practise with it more than I had before.
The more I practised with my Guandao and learnt about the ways it's used, the more I realised that it's not going to be my go to for every situation.
The Guandao is a warfare-based weapon that excels in wide open spaces. In other words, it won’t work in something like an alleyway-DripDripDrip-. It's not useless, but I need to be able to rely on both my fists and my pistol for large amounts of combat.
My aim has improved, that's for sure. Practical usage is still not good, since hitting moving targets isn't easy, however. I can, but I usually use more bullets then I need to.
All things considered, I'm doing well.
Shigaraki seemed pleased with me after that night. At least, I think he did. He didn't scowl when he saw me that time he was sitting at the bar, playing his handheld. But then again, maybe he just didn't care enough to scowl. I'm not sure.
Beyond all that, nothing really happened. The only notable thing was…
====================================================================
I step into the bar, looking around.
Shigaraki sits at the counter, but Kurogiri isn't present. Normally, I wouldn't think much of that. Kurogiri has his own things to deal with, so sometimes he's just not present. But today?
“Hey Shigaraki, have you seen… literally anyone? It's unusual for the whole hideout to be empty like this…”
Sure enough, I had checked around the hideout, and found not a trace of anyone else. Not a sound, nor a sight.
Shigaraki doesn't even glance up from his console.
“They’re off doing some sort of PvP Battle Royal or something.”
I put aside the fact that nobody even asked me to join and decided that I’m not even going to try and translate that from gamer lingo because I don't have the faintest clue where I would even start.
“Even Kurogiri?” I ask.
“Yep. Why?" Shigaraki looks up from his game now, looking at me with a scrutinising gaze.
“Damn, I need to go to the store and pick up some things, but usually Kurogiri warps me there, just cause it's faster. Guess I'm walking, then…” I respond, already preparing myself for a walk that takes far too long.
It's not that I'm lazy, I just don't like going outside unless I have to. I am a wanted man after all…
“Just take the car,” Shigaraki says.
I blink.
“We have a car?”
====================================================================
I glance out the window as some dickweed in a fancy car, which is definitely compensating for something, overtakes me.
“YOU DRIVE LIKE A FUCKING WHORE!” The driver shouts out their window.
This bitch! I’m going the speed limit!
“I’M GONNA FUCK YOUR MOTHER AND GIVE HER A SON WHO CAN ACTUALLY FUCKING DRIVE!” I shout out the window back at them.
“Honestly, they just give licenses out to anyone these days…” I remark to my passenger.
Shigaraki, sitting in the passenger seat with his game console in hand, checks his seatbelt.
“Do you even have a license?" he asks.
“I had one back home.”
“Didn’t you live in… what, Australia?”
“The laws are basically the same.”
“...I’ll drive on the way back.”
“Fuck off, I’m great at driving!”
‘Keep driving like this and you might kill someone again, only this time it’d be an accident, ey, Kiddo?’ Manny pipes up.
…
…
…
ShutupShutupShutupShutupI’mAMonsterDontThinkAboutItDontThinkAboutIt
I slam on the horn as some jerk who definitely doesn't have the right of way merges in front of me, snapping me back to my senses.
“LEARN TO DRIVE, YOU FUCK!”