ｄｅｃａｙ．

the smile tomura gives to the league:

The moment his own hand comes toward her, Himiko smiles brighter, even if she should have been worried about the danger it might pose for someone with a quirk like his. She knows he wouldn’t hurt her like that though, and if he were to, she hopes he would do so without her knowledge, so she’d never know what happened. The girl can’t be scared of him, when he’s been so open to her, and she knows they share the same pain. 

Her thumb brushes over his cheek gently a few times, staying just like that for a moment as he speaks, wondering what she expected from the League herself. Comfort, most of all. She wanted to be comfortable, for life to be easier, and that at the very least, was happening. It had to do with the closeness developed between the members too, she knew. 

“I don’t think we’re like family.” She says, though the smile on her lips never disappears, and her tone is still casual, simple, carefree. It could sound like she didn’t care at all, if you didn’t know better. “The League never treats me like my family did. The League is… better.” She giggles a little and shrugs, not taking her hand off his face just yet. “Don’t you think?”

     if not family, then what are they? the  w a r m t h  of her hand against his cheek makes his heart race, but not as if he’s nervous or tripping over himself over the contact. it’s not some sort of puppy love, but he can’t deny the affection that wells within his chest for her. he remembers the first few weeks she was with the league, how he would complain to kurogiri about her perfume, its chemical cotton candy stench.

     now he only notices it when she’s not around. she stopped smelling like some brat’s childish perfume and started smelling like something familiar and kind. it’s... odd. and even odder, she isn’t the only one this has happened with.

Impassive gaze flutters towards the sleeping man, watching every twitch, every change - no matter how minuscule - in his posture. A nightmare? It seems like it. 

Tomura’s hand shoots forward, but his own, mist-wrapped hand envelops itself around his wrist way too quickly; halting the movement - squeezes gently in an attempt to shake the younger out of his nightmare-induced sleep.

White-ish yellow orbs meet crimson ones; shimmering with tears shed - trailing down his cheeks before gathering at his chin. Kurogiri’s hand moves - automatically; a habit he’d learned over the years - gently wiping the tears that had gathered under his chin before moving his hand back && releasing his hold on Tomura’s wrist.

“ Why are you apologizing, Shigaraki Tomura? There is no need for such a thing. ” he inquires then, eyes narrowing upwards in an imitation of a smile. “ Nightmares are a thing that happen to everybody. Once you have calmed down sufficiently, I will be at my usual location. ” Except himself, it seems. He moves from his crouched position && stands up, bringing his arms back behind him.

“ Would you like something to eat or has your nightmare left you appetite-less? ”

     of course there’s need for an apology. had kurogiri not been sitting at just the right angle, had not been ready to catch tomura by his wrist, he would be dust. the man’s quirk hasn’t made him entirely phantom-like after all.

     but he can’t make the words, can’t form them with his mouth. tomura feels that if he spoke, nothing but a  s c r e a m  would come out. as kurogiri moves, though, tomura feels his voice return to him, and he grabs the hem of kurogiri’s vest--albeit with his pinky curled against his palm.

Himiko nods a little against him as he explains to her how the quirk ended his father’s life, how he saw it all happen, and what he’d done. He wasn’t to blame. Neither was she. But he wasn’t to blame for being scared of being hit, or being scared by seeing the way his quirk disintegrated the only person in his life. 

“Is that why you keep it? It was the only thing left…” She didn’t keep anything from her parents. She hadn’t taken anything other than their blood, and that ran out fast. She had taken only the clothes on her back when she left, two bodies destroyed and drained behind her. 

The girl pulled back once more after giving him a gentle squeeze, and decided to set one of her hands on the side of his face gently, smiling a little as he spoke again, this time of his master, the man behind all the Nomus, she knew. 

“I’m happy he found you, Tomura, so we could meet too. So we could all be here.” 

     he almost pulls her back into the slight embrace, already  a c h i n g  for warmth against him as she leans away, but her hand comes to rest on his cheek and he stops. tomura sighs, letting himself indulge in her touch, leaning into her palm. his own hand, fingers curled against his palm for safety of course, comes up to rest against hers.

The fact that he’s not immediately responding positively to her touch doesn’t bother the girl one bit. She doesn’t even register it. She never does, which is a problem for other people when they really don’t want her so close. Personal space has never really been something she could understand too well anyway. 

Eventually he relaxes into her arms anyway, ans she’s got her face happily pressed against the soft fabric of his shirt as he tells the tale of his childhood. Her golden eyes look up at him with interest, never once distracted from the story, though her smile is now reduced to the vaguest of tugs at the corners of her lips, because this isn’t a good story. It’s a story of suffering, for a boy that couldn’t help his crimes. 

“Physical?” Her own experiences did not fit this much of his description, so her mind did not go to violence immediately. She had thought he’d been hit from the very beginning, the way she was when she misbehaved. That was normal, after all, right? “He touched you… and you pushed him.” She pursed her lips a little at the thought of what would have happened to the man. “Were you scared then?”

     tomura nods. “he... i can’t really remember. i think he grabbed me or--smacked me. it was something like that. all i remember is that he’d never actually hurt me before. it scared me and i reacted on instinct and--”

     the  w e i g h t  of his father’s hand in his coat pocket seems to turn into a fifteen ton anvil. what a heavy and macabre reminder of what might have been. tomura takes a deep breath.

          “my quirk is infectious.” he says. “if i used it on a person’s clothing, it would spread to the skin their clothes touch, and then it would spread to their muscle and their bones until nothing was left.” tomura explains. “i watched him fall to pieces in front of me. watched his back cave in as his spine turned to dust. saw his tongue fall from his mouth and his eyes evaporate.”

     and yes he’s seen worse since then, and most of those things have been done on purpose. but those sorts of images don’t treat a child as young as he was very well. “he broke his wrist when he was younger, had a metal pin in it. since his hand fell off before my quirk got too far, that stopped it from destroying the hand.” it’s so heavy he feels like it’ll break through his legs and the couch and sink into the ground beneath them.

Himiko sometimes wondered what her mom might think about a person like what she has become. No good words come to her mind when she does this, so it’s not an idea she dwells on for long. But there’s always been one thing Himiko is good at, and that is love. She loves with her entire heart. Maybe that’s why she’s so ready to help the League when they’re having personal issues. In battle, she might run off when it gets too much, but when it comes to feelings, she can be the rock for those that need it, if she loves them.

She’s always been quite observant too. 

“Oh, that hurts doesn’t it? It’s… unfair, that he comes to you in dreams. The last time I saw my daddy he was lying under me, dead.” She sighs a little. That must be what bothers Tomura. With quirks like the ones they have, it was impossible for them to have led happy lives, with their mom and dad and a puppy to play with, and a bunch of friends. They were born villains, weren’t they? There was no avoiding it. 

Without prompting, she puts an arm around his waist, and presses herself close to him, smiling cheerily. “Tell me more, Tomura. You never told me before.” 

     her touch is unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. he stiffens only for a moment, his eyes frantic as he ensures his hands are occupied elsewhere and far away from her figure. when tomura is certain she’s in no danger from him, he relaxes into her, sighing to himself.

     he shakes his head. “i don’t tell a lot of people.” he admits. “makes them pity me.” but he knows she’s practically incapable of such an emotion. she’s been through pity on her own terms. they all have. “...not a happy story.”

     through bites of his pudding, tomura tells her about his cursed quirk and what it did to his family. how his mother refused to return to them until tomura was gone--LET HIM ROT FOR ALL I CARE she had screamed--and how his father treated him like an animal. he recalls his fear, constant as he sat in his near-empty room, locked away for days on end and fed the scraps from his father’s meals, forced to eat like a dog as he was forbidden to touch anything in the house.

Himiko’s smile is unfaltering through the time it takes him to finally take the cup and spoon from her, unfaltering through the silence, or anything else. There’s very little that could push the smile out of her face, really.  She pushes some strands of hair away from her face once he’s taken the cup, licking her lips a little at the smell of the treat, then leans back to watch him eat. 

“I have bad dreams all the time too. Since I was little, but they’re worse when I’m alone.” The tone she speaks in doesn’t match the subject at all, being so carefree and casual, like it doesn’t bother her any more than having to wait for the train might. “I never remember, but I don’t like making noise when I sleep. It attracts all sorts of people when I’m outside.” 

Another chuckle escapes her lips and then she shrugs. “What do you dream of? Do you know?”

     maybe it’s be cause she doesn’t care at all. maybe it’s because she cares too much. either way, himiko’s nonchalance helps, and tomura’s seen it in action. she’s managed to calm jin on the worst of his days, to cheer magne when her demons come knocking, to hug the frown from dabi’s patchwork face.

     maybe she has a second quirk.