"I could be just overthinking this, Eraser Head," Recovery Girl sighed aloud, rapping her fingertips on the infirmary desk. "But, I think I have a reason to be worried. All these things... physical abuse, the Shirayuki's sudden stop in doing it, Arata-chan's weird diet... They are all unusual. Even her quirk is unusual."
"Her Praying Mantis quirk?" Aizawa crossed his arms and leaned on the wall. "She can transform both hands into mantis forelegs, all right."
"If that's all she could do, I wouldn't worry as much. Have you ever seen Kamakiri from 1-B?"
"... Come again?"
"Oh, don't tell me you forget, Eraser Head."
"Give me a break, he's not from my class. Can you describe him?"
"The one that looks more like a praying mantis than Arata-chan herself. His quirk is Razor Sharp."
"I remember now. The one that can emit blades from his arms, right? Vlad King mentioned him to me once. So, U.A. kind of has not one, but two mantises in the same batch?"
"Yes and no," Recovery Girl answered quickly.
"What do you mean by 'no'?"
"Kamakiri's quirk is about producing a set of blades that mimics mantis's forelegs—"
"Sounds like Arata's to me," Aizawa spoke up in a monotone voice. "Except that Arata's forelegs do look like real mantis raptorial limbs, not blades. But, well, the main idea is the same: transforming their body parts into mantis-like properties."
"Let me finish my words, will you? Don't be so impatient," the nurse huffed in annoyance. "Listen closely, Eraser Head. Those forelegs you said before, they are only the visible tip of the iceberg. The only part she could use... or has ever shown."
"Okay...? Then, she should be able to transform her legs too? After a sufficient amount of training, of course."
"Ugh, yes, but you're looking from the wrong perspective here. Arata-chan's quirk was never merely about manifesting the physical characteristics of a praying mantis. It's about transforming into a praying mantis. Its physics, reflex, speed—she has all of them when she is using her quirk."
"All of them? All that a praying mantis can offer?" Aizawa's shoulder stiffened as his hand began to slide down his pockets, searching for his phone in a growing unease.
"Yes, the whole package."
"Then, does it mean..."
"Well..." Recovery Girl paused for a moment before resuming her words. "I'm afraid it includes a praying mantis' instinct as well."
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Maybe, it's time for Arata to give up.
Her only shot was knocking Ephialtes out with his own sleeping injection, yet the tables have turned and it's her veins that drug is residing in. It pretty much seals the deal that this whole fiasco will not end in her favor.
Hope was running thin before, but now, it is gone. Her brain is clogged by imaginary molasses, she can't think of anything that can get her out from this situation. Utter exhaustion is plaguing her, wet eyelids are almost drooping. What remains of her energy flickers weakly, like a candle in the middle of a storm. The only thing that keeps her sitting upright is the cold wall behind her back.
"Aww, look at you, Little Red Riding Hood. So meek and obedient... Like a pretty doll."
Maybe, it's time for me to accept my own fate, Arata's head lolls forward, slumped against the base of Ephialtes's chilly neck, as he chuckles in amusement. Time for me to cease feeding myself with illogical hope. To quit trying. To stop resisting this nightmare and... just give up...
At least, if she dreamed, she would be freed from all this terror, right? Even if the demon was running his fingers from her shoulders up to her neck like this, she wouldn't tremble so hard like a trapped mouse.
In the dream, she would totally lose her common sense, right? And instantly die next? So she wouldn't be aware of what they were doing. So she wouldn't have to look at herself and throw up in disgust. So she wouldn't have to cope with all the pain and fear that were yet to come.
Ah, pain... and fear...
There was a period where her life revolved around them and them only. It's kind of ironic. Here she is, oceans away from the Shirayuki, yet it feels as if she was back with them in the dark, cold underground.
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"Be careful, dude. What if it suddenly snapped like its mother, like last year?"
"Hah, this useless trash?" he spat out a bitter laugh. His foot pounded Arata's stomach, shoving her against the wall, forcing the air from her lungs in a pained gasp. "It has been starved for three days, dude. Three days. And look how small these arms are. I bet I can snap them like a twig. Just wait there by the door if you're scared."
Dragging Arata up by her hair, he studied her tear-stained face, his grey eyes blazing with rage. "Why did your mother kill my grandma and all of the other elders! Tell me, why did she kill them?" His voice was roaring in the basement, lashing for an answer.
Her scalp burned from the harsh pull of her hair, and her tips of feet scraped desperately against the floor as she cried out, "I don't know!"
"That's what you said! But you could've planned it with her for all we know!"
"N— No! I swear I didn't!"
"How could she be so cruel?" he slammed her against the wall again, his grey eyes boring into hers, blazing with fury. "Had she left them intact, we could've honored and preserved their remains!"
Her sobs racked her body, and she could barely get the words out. "I don't know! I swear on my life! Please, I'm begging you—"
"Your life? All of this would have never happened if you were a Snow White like your father, like what my grandma predicted!" Throwing her to the floor, he cut her off, his face inches from hers, his breath hot on her skin. "Beg all you want, but it won't change anything. You'll pay for what your mother has done."
"P— Please... don't... I'm sorry!" Arata whimpered weakly, thrashing and squirming, but his hand on her wrists didn't budge. Of course he didn't, she almost had no energy left. "Please... don't hurt me... I'll— I'll be good... I'll d— do anything you want, so please..."
"Shut up!" he pressed himself against her, his white hair tickling her nose. Arata yelped as she felt his other hand slip under her tattered clothing, roughly creeping on the bruised, tender midriff skin. His touch sent shivers of revulsion through her. "I'll end you if you fight back."
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It's ironic, to have the same circumstance repeated, albeit in a different place and a different time. It makes Arata wonder, if her life was actually intended to play out this way. If what she is doing right now was just an effort in pushing back the inevitable. If she was fated to have a dance with pain and fear for as long as she lived.
"Having you so frail and powerless like this makes my heart race. I don't know, I'm very conflicted." Ephialtes's voice falls and rises in her fuddled consciousness. "On one hand, I'm loving this shift from your feisty side. It's a sweet payoff after all the fights you put up, easily the best rush I've ever had. Nonetheless, a part of me feels a little guilty for having tamed such a bright girl."
The tips of his purple hair are descending upon Arata's nape, each graze makes her flesh crawl. Sniffling, she can feel more and more of her tears dripping on her cheeks, trickling down to his shoulder. Trickling away... like her determination.
Is this the end?
"I know you're tired, Little Red Riding Hood. Don't resist the sleeping drug anymore. Just close your eyes, and I will take everything away. Your pain, your fear—all of it. I will give you the sweetest dream you could've ever dreamed of."
I'm sorry, Bakugou-kun. You're right. I'm a dead weight, a burden. I've tried my best, but I can't do anything. The only purpose I'll be serving here, is becoming this demon's prey. I'm sorry for letting him draw more power from me. I'm sorry for letting him become stronger, not weaker.
I'm sorry, Kirishima-kun. All that effort you've done to save me, it will end in vain. You've given me hope for me to hold on for a while, but I can't for any longer. I'm sorry for making you go back on your words to Deku-kun. I'm sorry for having been lifeless by the time you break down that door.
I'm sorry, Shoto-san. You've spent so much energy and time to rescue me, over and over. You shouldn't have wasted your power on me. I'm sorry for being a distraction in your fight. I'm sorry I won't be able to live my life either. Please don't, don't ever blame yourself. This situation was not born from your inability. It's just me being helpless.
Black begins to seep into her blurry vision, and Arata can sense a tug on her consciousness. A tug that promises an idyllic world full of pleasure on the other side. She is just standing on the edge of it, but even so, it draws her in like a magnet, seducing her to succumb to the temptation.
I'm sorry, Aizawa-san, she blinks for the last time, trying to form a coherent thought. Her wet eyelashes brush against the demon's collarbone. I've promised that I'll come back home, but I can't... I'm sorry for giving up...
I'm sorry... for not being able to— to repay your kindness before I leave...
Then, it hits Arata, bitter and gut-wrenching. Aizawa has done so much for her, so much that she wouldn't be able to repay his kindness even if she worked for it her whole life.
Her life is one that he fished out from the darkness, from the improbability. One that drove people away because of the insurmountable responsibility and burden, but he chose to keep. One that brought him no benefit, but he fought for.
Her life that she is going to lose to this sedative-induced sleep, without him knowing about it back at his—their—home. One that he is expecting to see again, despite everything.
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"Um, Aizawa-san? What can I do to repay your kindness?"
"Just keep waking up, Arata."
"What?"
"No matter how difficult it gets in the future, just keep waking up."
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For Arata, her debt to Aizawa is immeasurable. After all, freedom and acceptance can't be counted using fingers. Even so, he wants nothing from her. Nothing, other than her waking up and seeing another day. Nothing, other than her being alive... and coming home.
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"Look, Arata. You are to come home afterwards, understand? You have to start training and work hard if you want to get anything other than bad results next month. I won't go easy on you, so enjoy the last holiday you'll be having in I-Island. Do you copy?"
"Copy that. I will come back home, Aizawa-san."
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... And, oh god, who is she to deny that simple request? How can she?
I can't sleep. I can't give up. Not yet.
Even when I was ready to abandon my own life, Aizawa-san kept fighting for me. He did all he could. My worthless existence... didn't mean nothing for him.
The memory drives an invisible knife to Arata's heart and although her eyelids feel very heavy, she forces them to open again.
Even when I didn't have a future, he helped me to carve one. Even when I didn't have a place to return, he gave his to share with me...I can't— I can't throw away all he has done for nothing...
Her mind is very hazy and her senses are dulled, but she bites down on her own tongue. A twinge of pain bursts in her mouth, piercing through all the fog lurking around her consciousness.
He asked me to come home. He asked me to wake up and live. Me, who had been unwanted... and better off dead...
A prickling sensation begins to thrum inside her veins, flooding them with what remains from her energy.
If Aizawa-san wants me to wake up... to stay awake... to live...
... The least I can do for him, is do everything in my power to fulfill it.
In a swift move, Arata loops her good arm around Ephialtes and clamps him to her. His surprised groan hasn't even finished rumbling on her nape when a green exoskeleton encases her arm, implanting its spikes across his back.
"What the hell!?" Ephialtes struggles to pry her off him in panic. But, Arata is faster. Throbbing ache blossoms around his shoulders as it clamps down even harder on him. "What's going on!? Aren't you quirkless?"
"It's your fault... for assuming... Ugh!" Arata doubles over as a sharp smack connects with her belly, yet she tightens her grip on him.
"Get off me, you bitch!"
Ephialtes has a much larger build than her, so it's getting tough for Arata to keep latching onto him. Fighting back the disorienting sedative in her body, she clenches her mantis foreleg harder, pressing him against her like a second skin.
It's getting hard for her to think clearly. The only thing she knows, that whatever it takes, this time, she isn't going to be the one that is cornered. She isn't going to be the one that meets their demise.
She is going to stay awake and remove this demon, this threat, this source of her pain and fear. Whatever it takes, however it is, she is going to survive. Survive so she can come home.
"I will come back home, Aizawa-san."
Even if it is by the only way she knows... and despises.
A familiar burning sensation worms along her throat, shooting up to her jaw. Then, following the primal instinct in her, Arata sinks her teeth into the cold neck in front of her.