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[38] I Want To Be Your Hero
🕑 Added 2025-05-30 16:51:36 +0000 UTC(Kata POV – Shie Hassaikai Compound, Underground)
Overhaul collapses to the floor. I watch his body hit the ground with a dull thud, his mind forever trapped in an abyss of pain.
I don't destroy his arms since I erased his quirk factor directly. 'This is a greater punishment than killing him.'
I exhale. Not in relief. Not in satisfaction. Just… tired breath.
'It didn’t feel how I expected it to.'
I thought I’d feel peace or satisfaction that justice had been achieved.
'But how can I feel like that?'
I wasn’t the one who suffered here.
'Especially when I see her like this?'
Eri was finally in my radar's range, and what I saw made my chest tighten.
Curled up on a bed too big for her small frame, barely moving.
Her expression is one I know too well.
Sorrow, mixed with grim acceptance.
The kind of look only a child who has long since stopped believing in rescue can wear.
And the bandages—thin, useless layers of cloth trying to help the damage beneath heal.
My fingers curl into fists.
'I should’ve hurt them more.'
The thought is quiet, but occupies every corner of my mind. It's so insistent and undeniable that it manages to affect my quirk, before I quickly reign it in.
I tortured them in ways they can never recover from, left them writhing in agony they will never escape. And yet, it doesn’t feel like enough.
Because the damage is already done.
Because no matter how much pain I inflict, it won’t undo the nights she cried herself to sleep. The moments she held her breath, hoping that someone would save her.
And worst of all…
'I should’ve saved her sooner.'
I could have done this weeks ago.
I could have torn through this compound and ripped her away from this hell before she had to endure one more second of it.
'But I didn’t.'
I waited. I planned. I let logic dictate that caution was necessary. That acting too soon could leave a trail, could bring consequences I wasn’t ready to deal with.
'And because of that, she suffered longer.'
My grip tightens, nails digging into my palms.
I know I’m not to blame for what happened to her. I know her pain isn’t my fault.
But it doesn’t matter.
Because I feel responsible.
Not for what I did, but for what I didn’t.
For every moment she suffered while I was out there, knowing she was here, and doing nothing.
I let out another slow breath, releasing the tension from my hands. I can’t keep thinking like that.
'Blame doesn’t change anything. It's what I do from now on.'
I turn back to Overhaul, and erase any memory of Eri from his mind, along with my appearance and the sound of my voice.
I begin moving toward her room, my footsteps soundless against the cold floor.
I’ve already erased every trace of her existence here—documents burned, memories scrubbed from the minds of everyone still breathing using Neural Impulse Manipulation.
Soon, they’ll all be dead. Once the someone arrives, I've set up Telekinetic Energy in each body to destroy them completely.
I view the invisible Telekinetic Threads that link each body and surround the area.
Only Overhaul, Eri's Grandfather and Rappa will remain alive.
And Eri…
She’ll be free.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
I pause in front of her door, my hand hovering over the handle. The dreaded question I have yet to answer.
'How do I convince her to come with me?'
She has no reason to trust me. No reason to believe that I wouldn't hurt her.
She could refuse.
'And that would be her choice. I’m not going to force her.'
I came here to save her. That doesn’t mean making decisions for her. If she's willing to stay with me, I’ll protect her. If she wants a different home, I’ll find her one.
Even if that means making deals with Nezu.
'It doesn’t matter.'
Because more than anything—more than my own feelings, more than my desire to keep her close—I want her to be happy.
That’s all that matters.
I place my hand on the door and push it open.
'I don't even know how to take care of a child...' The realisation suddenly dawns but the door is already open.
(Eri POV – Shie Hassaikai Compound, Eri's Room)
I lie on the bed, curled into a ball, and wait.
There’s nothing else I can do.
They come in sometimes, smiling. Telling me everything's okay. They bring toys and say nice things.
'But they’re lying.' My fists tighten against the sheets.
'Nothing’s okay.'
They grab me. Strap me to the chair. Then the needles come. They stab then into my arms legs and then suck the blood out of me.
It doesn’t matter if I cry or if I scream. They do it anyway.
'Maybe… maybe one day someone will hear me and come.'
But I know it’s not likely. No one here would help me. No one ever has.
'Even mom said I was a cursed child.'
I curl in tighter. The bandages itch against my skin, covering up the places that hurt. They're supposed to help fix the damage.
That word again. 'Fix.'
I flinch just thinking about it.
He says it all the time, when I get too weak. “I’ll fix you.”
'It always hurts.'
Tears well up in my eyes as I clutch my pillow, my chest tight with fear.
'I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to be fixed anymore.'
It’s like being torn apart and stitched back together again. Then they do it again. And again. And again.
Until they’ve taken enough blood.
Then they lock me back in here.
In this room.
With pretty drawings on the walls of clouds, rainbows and the sky... Things I haven't seen in so long.
With dolls and toys that stare at me with cold, lifeless eyes.
Somewhere along the way, I fall asleep.
But not even my dreams are safe.
In them, I’m still trapped. Still bleeding.
Still getting fixed.
Then—I hear the door creak open.
My eyes snap wide open as my breath catches.
'No. Not again.'
I press back against the wall, trying to disappear. Trying to shrink myself so they don’t see me.
'They gave me toys a few days ago. That means it’s time. They’re coming for more blood.'
The light from the hallway stretches across the floor as a shadow enters the room.
He steps inside. Tall. Pale. White hair. Red eyes.
He looks younger than the others. A teenager maybe.
'Is he a new caretaker?'
They switch them out sometimes. The new ones always smile first. Always pretend to be kind.
'This one will be the same.'
I stare at him, every muscle in my body tight. My heart pounding like it wants to run away.
He stares back. His face is blank, like he’s waiting for something.
He takes a breath—and I flinch.
'Is he going to shout?'
I shut my eyes.
Then I hear his voice.
Calm. Soft.
“I’m here to rescue you.”
'...What?'
My eyes open slowly. I watch him cautiously, my body frozen in place.
He doesn’t move. He just waits.
'Rescue?'
The word feels like it doesn’t belong here. Like it slipped in from another world.
My chest squeezes. I’ve wanted someone to say that for so long. But…
'What if he’s lying?'
I’ve heard nice words before. They're often lies
But also…
'What if he’s telling the truth?'
My stomach twists. My eyes blur with tears I try not to let fall.
If he’s lying—it’ll break me.
If he’s telling the truth…
'They’ll kill him.'
The panic rises in my throat as I open my mouth.
“D-Don’t… They’ll kill you,” I whisper, voice barely there.
My hands tremble in my lap.
I want to believe him. I want it to be true. But I don’t want anyone to get hurt just because they're helping me.
He looks at me and answers quietly.
“It’s okay.”
I flinch.
They always say that.
Right before it gets worse.
Is this any different?
I don’t know.
But for the first time in a long time…
I want to hope.
"I've..." He pauses, hesitating.
"I know," I whisper.
There's no point in pretending. No one would ever come here just to save me.
He looks confused before continuing. "I wanted to say that... I’ve already dealt with all the bad guys." Something about the way he says it feels strange.
It's unbelievable.
I stare at him, silent. 'I’ve seen what they can do. No one can beat them.'
"I know it sounds ridiculous," he says with a small shrug, "but I’m kind of strong." He steps forward just slightly. "So... why don’t we get out of here?"
He extends his hand, and the memories come rushing back.
The straps. The needles. The blood. Getting 'fixed.'
My body trembles and his hand stops mid-air before he pulls it back.
"Sorry. I wasn’t thinking."
It’s the first time someone’s apologized to me...
"I understand I’m not really... trustworthy," he continues. There’s no anger in his voice. No pressure. He's just calm. “You can take your time. I’ll wait.”
He leans against the doorframe, quiet.
'Can I really trust him?'
"...Mister?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper. He nods gently, encouraging me. "...Are you a hero?"
He hesitates, then slowly shakes his head. "No. I’m not a hero."
I flinch, bracing for the worst—but he keeps speaking.
"I’ve done terrible things, Eri. Things heroes wouldn’t do. Things I can’t undo."
My fingers grip the sheets like they’re the only thing anchoring me. My body trembles, but I listen.
"...But I’m trying to be good," he says softly.
I blink up at him.
"I don’t know if I’ll ever be good," he admits. "But I want to be. And I want to protect you."
My lip quivers. I want so badly to believe him. "Even if you’re not a hero?"
He nods and takes a careful step forward. I don’t flinch this time.
He reaches his hand out again. "Even if I’m not a hero... I want to be your hero."
Then he smiles. A real smile—not the kind I've seen before. This one is gentle. 'It’s... beautiful.'
Tears pour down my face as I reach out, my small hand trembling, and take his.
This is the hand I’ve been waiting for. Hoping for. Dreaming of.
Then—panic.
My horn starts to grow and then glow.
'No. No, no, no!' My heart races as my quirk activates. "Let go!" I cry out. "Or you’ll disappear!"
His eyes widen slightly as scars appear across his arms... his neck... But he just tilts his head and smiles.
"It surprised me a bit," he says casually, "but don’t worry. I am kind of strong, remember?"
'What does that even mean...?'
"Don’t panic, Eri. I’ll shut it off, okay?" He gently places his other hand on my head.
'How can he be so calm...?'
But somehow... his calmness makes me feel calm, too.
Just like he said, the glow fades. My horn shrinks. My quirk stops. And... he's still here.
"H-How?" I whisper.
He just smiles and pats my head. His hand feels warm, kind and gentle, like he's afraid to hurt me. 'But I... I hurt him...'
Tears blur my vision as I stare at the marks on his skin.
Noticing, he says, "It’s okay. These? Don’t worry." Then the scars vanish before my eyes. "I had them a while ago. I just healed them."
I gape at his hands.
"Can I heal you too?" He ask softly, as he glances my own bandaged arms.
He looks at me gently. "Only if you want to."
I pause... then nod.
His hand begins to glow green as he sits next to me on the bed.
"You know," he says softly, "your quirk is amazing. They probably told you it was bad... but it can help so many people."
The glow washes over me—warm and safe, like him.
The pain disappears. The bandages unwrap themselves and slide off.
The marks are gone.
I cry again, and this time, he doesn’t say anything. He just pulls me into a hug, holding me close as I cry into his chest.
"It’s okay," he whispers. "You’re safe now."
