I landed in the rubble, my paper wings dissolving into a flurry of sheets that swirled around me like a tornado.
"You're still so strong Kobe." Saya had finally spoken for the first time. Her voice was cold and detached, as if she were commenting on the weather. Her blood surged around her, forming a pair of crimson blades that she twirled effortlessly in her hands. "Daiki was right. You have a habit of holding back."
Daiki!? That would mean she is most likely also with the League. Then why would she be fighting me? On paper we are on the same side, even if only temporarily.
I didn't respond. Talking was a distraction. She stumbled, but only for a moment. Her blood surged around her, forming into a whip that lashed out towards me in a crack like thunder. I dodged, the whip slicing through the air where I'd stood.
She was on the move again, her blood forming a dozen needles that shot toward me like a crimson hailstorm.
I raised my hand, and the paper around me condensed into a shield, deflecting the needles with a series of sharp ticks. And Saya still wasn't done. She leapt into the air, her blood forming a massive scythe that she swung in a wide arc.
I ducked, the blade whistling over my head, and countered with a burst of paper shurikens. They flew toward her, but she twisted in the air, her hair then moved, it swirled in a crimson vortex that shredded the shurikens into confetti.
That's right, her control was over everything in the shade of crimson.
I didn't wait for her to land. My paper surged forward, forming a net that I threw toward her. She saw it coming and sliced through it with a blade of blood, but I was already moving, my paper forming into a series of traps on the ground. She landed lightly, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scattered sheets of paper around her.
"Predictable," she said, "trying to rely on simple traps."
I didn't respond. Instead, I clenched my fist, and the paper traps erupted into a flurry of chains that wrapped around her legs. She stumbled, but only for a moment. Her blood surged, slicing through the chains with ease, and she lunged at me, her movements fluid and precise.
I met her head-on, my paper forming a pair of tonfa that I used to block her strikes. The impact send shockwaves through my arms, but I held my ground, our faces inches apart. Her blood blades clashed against my paper weapons, the sound sharp and metallic.
"You've gotten stronger," she admitted, her voice low and measured. "But so have I."
I shifted my weight, using the momentum to flip over her and land beside her. My tonfa dissolved into a flurry of sheets that wrapped around her arm, pinning them to her sides. She struggled, her blood surging to break free, but I was already moving, my hands forming a series of paper that sealed her in place, I slapped them onto her back.
"Enough Saya," I said, my voice was firm. "We're still on the same side."
She let out an exasperated sigh from her mouth. "You and I both know that none of that matters. If I wanted to leave the League I would and if you wanted to leave the MLA you would too. We are just capable of that. That's why we were created."
Why was she speaking like that?
I wanted to ask her but she was fighting back again.
Her blood surged, breaking free of the paper restraints and forming a massive wave that crashed toward me. I leapt back, my paper forming a shield that absorbed the brunt of the impact, but the force still sent me skidding across another rooftop.
The map I used in conjunction with my earlier attack was still floating around. The paper was shifting and reshaping as I marked her position once more. This time, I didn't pull. Instead, I twisted, the paper hand on her shoulder yanking her to the side and throwing her off balance. She stumbled, her blood surging to steady her, but I was already moving, my paper forming a massive hammer that I swung with all my strength.
The hammer connected with a resounding crash, sending her flying across the rooftop and into a nearby wall. The impact shook the building, dust and debris raining down around us. For a moment, there was silence.
Then, she emerged from the rubble, her crimson hair pushing her upward to her feet again. Blood dripped from her fingertips, forming new weapons, new threats. But this time, she didn't attack. Instead, she stood there, her chest heaving, her eyes locked onto mine.
Another sigh came out, sounding more tired. "You're still better than me. Just like back then."
I lowered my hammer, the paper dissolving into a flurry of sheets swirling around me. "There could have been other ways of going for a spar Saya."
Her face was blank, still cold, still indifferent. I was told I have a similar look. I could see it. It was like looking into a mirror, even though her eyes were a bright shade of blue that anyone would admire... they were so empty, an emptiness that consumed all things black.
I was in that mood again. What I was previously feeling due to the revelation from Gran Torino was all gone now. It didn't matter.
Saya turned around, her crimson hair swaying slightly as she moved. She paused, her back to me and muttered lowly. "Goodbye for now, Kobe." Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, her voice as cold and detached as ever, "Walls to walls, we're all trapped. Alone. Staring into the same void."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, their familiarity cutting through the haze of my thoughts. It was a broken, fragmented version of a phrase I hadn't heard in years, not since the Eden Project. Back then, it had been blared over the speakers during their so-called "classes" repeated endlessly until it was etched into our minds, a mantra of nihilistic wisdom.
"We are all prisoners of our own minds, trapped in the labyrinth of our thoughts. Some of us build walls to keep the world out, while others tear them down to let darkness in. But in the end, we are all alone, staring into the abyss of our own existence."
The voices from the speakers, the relentless drills, the death, torture, it all flooded my mind, unwelcomed. I was lying to myself when I spoke to Gran Torino. I could never forget those experiences. They were so deeply ingrained in me.
And the same could be said for Saya.
Walls or no walls, we're all trapped.
I have built my walls high, thicker than most, trying to keep the world out. But Saya... she had torn hers down, let the darkness in, and embraced it. And yet here we both are, still trapped, still alone, still staring into the same void.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the air. I turned to see a crowd gathering below, their eyes wide with curiosity and concern. Among them, I only really recognized Nagant, her sharp gaze glared at me before scanning the scene with a mixture of suspicion and relief.
"Kobe," she called out, her voice sharp and commanding. "What the hell happened here?"
***
The halls of UA were quiet, Yuki didn't know it could be so silent. But it was expected due to the changes in the school, the lack of students, only leaving hero students now.
Yuki walked with slow, unsteady steps. Her purple eyes were clouded, staring straight ahead but seeing nothing. The weight of the world, no, the weight of her own failures pressed down on her shoulders crushing her every step.
She had always been the strong one. The eldest. The aspiring hero of the family. The one who was supposed to protect, to guide, to fix things when they went wrong. But now, as she wandered through the empty corridors, she felt anything but strong. She felt broken. Shattered. Like the foundation of everything she thought she knew had been ripped out from under her.
The conversation with All Might and Gran Torino replayed in her mind like a broken record, each word cutting deeper than the last. The Eden Project. Experiments. Kobe. Her little brother. Her little brother. The information that Gran Torino and All Might and that Hero Commission member, all of it echoed in her mind.
She was so blind. She was foolish.
She had agreed with her mother. She had even urged her. They had sent him away, thinking it was for the best. Thinking he would come back better, stronger and fixed after their fathers death and the violence he was showing. But he hadn't come back fixed, he was quiet, she barely even noticed he was there, and then he disappeared.
Her stomach churned, a wave of nausea rising in her throat. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to steady herself. But the guilt was too much. The regret was too much. It consumed her, eating away at her from the inside until she felt like she might collapse under the weight of it.
She hated herself. She hated the way she dismissed him, the way she had ignored the signs. She hated the way she had been so focused on her own path, her own dreams, that she hadn't seen how much he was hurting. She knows that she failed him, how she failed as a sister, as a hero, as a person with common decency.
And now he was out there. Alone. Facing danger every single day. Working undercover for the heroes, risking his life for a world that had failed him. The thought made her chest tighten, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She felt like she was drowning, the guilt and regret pulling her under, suffocating her.
She stopped walking, leaning against the wall for support. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against the cool surface, her head bowed as she tried to steady herself. But the memories kept coming, unbidden and relentless. Kobe as a child, his light brown eyes bright with curiosity, his laughter ringing through the house. Kobe as a teenager, quiet and distant, his eyes empty, his smile gone, now Kobe, out there in the world, fighting a battle she couldn't even join.
She had failed him. She had failed him in the worst possible way. And she didn't know how to fix it. She didn't know if she could fix it. But she had to try. She had to do something. She couldn't just stand by and let him carry such a burden on his own.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stand straight, to push through the guilt, nausea and regret. She was strong. She was a hero. And she wants to make things right.
She would find a way to help him. To protect him. To make up for everything she had failed to do so. She didn't know how yet, but she would figure it out. She had to. For him. For her family. For herself.
The vow solidified in her mind, a quiet but unshakable resolve. She would make this right. She would fix what she had broken. She would be the sister he deserved. The hero he needed.
But first, she needed to breathe. She needed to get through this moment, this wave of nausea and guilt that threatened to overwhelm her. She pushed off the wall, her steps quickening as she made her way to the nearest restroom. Her stomach churned, the bile rising in her throat, and she barely made it to the sink before she was sick.
She gripped the edges of the sink, her knuckles white as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed and haunted. She looked like a stranger. She looked weak, and broken.
But she couldn't afford to be. Not with what is to come.
She splashed cold water on her face, the shock of it helping ground her. She took a deep breath, then another, forcing herself to calm down. She couldn't fall apart. Now now. Not when there was so much at stake.
Everything would happen at Hero's Eve. She would either fall or rise up to the occasion.
***
Cipher sat in the dimly lit room, the faint glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the walls. In his hands was a weathered copy of The Book of Disquiet, its pages yellowed with age and filled with the fragmented thoughts of a man who had spent his life searching for meaning in a meaningless world. His sharp eyes had a playful look in them as he scanned the words, absorbing them with a quiet intensity.
"Life is a journey through a landscape of shadows," he read silently, his voice echoing only in his mind. "We wander aimlessly, searching for meaning in a world that offers none. Each step is a question, each breath a sigh. And yet, we persist, as if the act of moving forward could somehow fill the void within us."
The words resonated with him, as they always did. They were a mirror to his own thoughts, a reflection of the emptiness he had carried with him since he was a child. He turned the page, his fingers brushing against the fragile paper, and continued reading.
The door creaked open, breaking the silence. Toga skipped into the room, her golden eyes gleaming with mischief. "Cipher!" she chirped, her voice high and melodic. "What are you doing?"
Cipher didn't look up. "Reading." he said simply, his tone was playfully calm, it was a standard.
Toga pouted, her lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated display of disappointment. "You're always reading," she whined, flopping down onto the couch beside him. "Don't you ever get bored?"
Cipher closed the book, his fingers resting on the cover as he turned to face her. "Acquiring knowledge is never a waste of time," he said, his tone was deep and weirdly invasive sounding. "My mentor taught me that. He said that filling your head with knowledge trains the brain, sharpens it. Makes you see the world for what it really is."
Toga tilted her head, her expression curious. "And what is the world, Cipher?" she asked, her voice playful but with an undercurrent of something more serious.
Cipher's gaze drifted to the window, his eyes narrowing as he stared out into the night. "The world is a labyrinth," he said quietly. "A maze of shadows and illusions. And we are all prisoners, trapped in our own minds, staring into the abyss of our existence."
Toga blinked, her playful demeanour faltering for just a moment. "That's... dark." she said, her voice softer now. "Even for our standards."
Cipher's lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Its the truth," he said. "And the truth is rarely comforting."
He opened the book again, his eyes scanning the pages until he found the passage he was looking for. He read it aloud, his voice haunting.
"We are all prisoners of our own minds, trapped in the labyrinth of our thoughts. Some of us build walls to keep the world out, while others tear them down to let the darkness in. But in the end, we are all alone, staring into the abyss of our own existence."
The words hung in the air, heavy and tiring. Toga was silent for a moment, her usual exuberance replaced by something quieter, more contemplative. Then, as if shaking off the weight of his words, she grinned and leaned closer to him.
"Well, that depressing," she said, "But I guess that's why we have each other right? To keep the darkness at bay?"
Cipher didn't respond. He simply closed the book and set it aside, smiling in comfort.
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