Chapter Text
Chapter 1 - Her Starting Line
There was a slight bite to the air, spring not quite suppressing the lingering chill of winter, and Himiko tried to resist the urge to rub her hands together.
Her fathers had been clear that first impressions were everything, and she was already a little self-conscious that her lineage was going to raise expectations. That, and there was no way she would have been assigned to the Number 2 hero’s patrol without the reputation of Present Mic and Eraserhead smoothing her way.
Accomplished as she was, hero society was notoriously incestuous — connections were everything, and, for better or worse, she came armed with a lifetime of them.
The least she could do is pretend the cold wasn’t making her fingers numb.
“Himiko! You made it!”
Hawks grinned as she approached, his wings fluttering in the wind while the setting sun dipped behind his feathers. Shota wasn’t a fan of the Number 2 hero, and she carried her father’s skepticism into every encounter with him. Hizashi would roll his eyes before his booming voice would defensively list all of Takami’s achievements, but they both knew that accolades could hide all manner of sins.
He tilted his head in performative thought, sharp eyes raking over her hero costume.
“Or should I be calling you Dr Toga? I’m never sure what the protocol is on these things now.”
Since the death of All for One, and the subsequent retirement and public disappearance of All Might, the HPSC had been on a lengthy programme of reforms. The vacuum opened up by the two great forces leaving centre stage had led to a brief lull, where Japan held her collective breath to see what might come next.
The answer, of course, was carnage.
Crime spiked and the pressure fell onto hero schools to churn out fresh meat as quickly as possible. Risks were taken, safeguards removed, and it took until the first sickening lost of an entire first year hero class for the Japanese Government to step in and institute a series of dramatic reforms.
Existing pros were rewarded more handsomely for risk, disincentivising them to put their sidekicks in the firing line when they could front up and be paid instead. Heroism was discouraged to all but the best at school, with extensive public information campaigns focussed on the tragic class 1-A who had perished because they were too inexperienced, too vulnerable to organised and ruthless criminals. And with Endeavor as the new Number 1 hero, suddenly the top spot became aspirational again, so every hero underneath him scrapped and clawed to try and knock him off his perch.
Increased competition. Raised standards. An increasingly elite few who ascended. The hero profession had never been less accessible, but their losses dramatically declined and all the bureaucrats congratulated themselves on a job well done.
Of course much of the crime simply went into the shadows, affecting the ordinary people that extraordinary heroes rarely paused to think about. Japan looked safer on paper, but the streets held a tension that lingered to the present.
Fifteen years after All Might’s shock retirement and All for One’s defeat, the days when teenagers went from middle school to hero training at high school were long gone. Institutions like UA ran two year masters programmes, accessible only to those who had already completed a university degree and racked up volunteer and field work. To gain entry to UA and other Japanese hero universities, prospective heroes had to be at least twenty-five and earn their provisional license on their own merit and training, ensuring hero families were increasingly dominant. Now that Himiko had obtained her provisional licence, her conditional offer from UA was confirmed and she would be starting in two days, alongside a small class of other exceptional candidates.
The public were split on the reforms. On one hand, it entrenched the power of existing heroes through limiting the competition from upcoming heroes, granting them more time at the top and ensuring they could heavily influence the trajectory of those who did manage to gain entry to institutions like UA. On the other, it ensured that those who became heroes had professions to fall back on, that they would have rewarding work and the ability to add value to society regardless of injury or disillusionment cutting their hero career short. And, most importantly, they tended to die less which made the whole charade worth it, because nothing raised public fear and outrage like the sight of a dead hero.
But Himiko didn’t suffer from any hesitation about her future. She had known what she wanted to do from the moment her life changed at four years old, when Shota had pulled her into his arms, thanking the doctors who had saved her life, and as Hizashi cuffed her outraged birth parents and led them away.
Heroes saved. Doctors saved. She would use her quirk to excel at both.
She forced a polite smile on her face and shrugged, hoisting her scythe onto her shoulder.
“I’m just Himiko here — a rookie hero on my first patrol, 24 hours after getting my provisional licence, hoping I’ll be useful to you. I’m only Dr Toga in the emergency room.”
Hawks’ sidekicks were openly staring, clearly intrigued by the rather infamous adopted child of Present Mic and Eraserhead, but she was used to it now. Her striking hero costume probably didn’t help, but as Hizashi always said — let them look, and when they do, make sure to give them a show. The bags of blood were practical, lovingly donated quirks nestled inside the beautiful liquid to help her to improvise in battle and with a variety of blood types to help those in need, but they also combined with the nursing whites to show how her specialisms came together. When she ran onto the battlefield, she wanted everyone to understand why she was there and what she could do to help. That, and the costume designer had refused to adapt her medical coat and insisted she would be ‘much more marketable’ in a nurse’s outfit.
Some of her friends had been outraged, but frankly she felt it was a privilege to be compared to the wonderful nurses she had worked with.
It didn’t matter if she was a hero, a doctor, a nurse or any many of emergency responder — Himiko was here to save, whether that was tending to your wounds, or chasing away the bad guys. The whites offered medical assurance to the wounded, and the scythe was a potent reminder she could ably dispatch villains if the need arose.
Hawks jerked his head, that lazy and frustratingly opaque smile still on his face.
“Come on then, Himiko the hero. Your first patrol awaits.”
Whatever hesitancy she had about Hawks evaporated in the face of her excitement.
It had taken her 21 years to get here, 21 long years since heroes saved her life, and at 25 years old Himiko was finally at her starting line.
*~*~*~*
She was pleased it was a night patrol. She had spent many nights trailing her father through the streets, watching him work as he exposed corruption and horror throughout society. When Eraserhead decided to take an interest in someone it often spelt doom for the individuals in question. He might be in his mid-40s now, but her dad was still frighteningly agile, focused, and as good at his night job as he had ever been.
Sprinting along rooftops was a familiar, almost soothing sensation to her. Hawks’ team could all fly, and they were casting shadows swooping through the sky above her, but she wanted to be grounded for now. She wasn’t sure they could see much from so high up, and that meant the patrol would largely focus on high profile incidents. Something about that irritated her, the sense that they could choose to float above the everyday problems of those less powerful than them by virtue of their quirks.
A solitary red feather floated past her head, curious and surveilling, before flitting off again.
She couldn’t decide if she should be comforted or alarmed that Hawks was keeping such a close eye on her.
The first few hours of patrol were uneventful, the sight of the Number 2 hero flanked by his sidekicks scaring off any who would be tempted to misbehave in their proximity. She was grateful to the many hours spent on her feet as a medical student for keeping her light on her feet even without a rest, but she found herself longing for a little bit of action, something to at least mark her first night in heroics.
As she leapt across a roof, a small movement in her peripheral made her pause and turn around, scanning for whatever had piqued her interest.
Heroic instinct, Shota would call it. Right. She should listen to her body when it was trying to tell her something.
In the alley below, a young woman was pulling away from a man leering towards her, yanking her arm as he gripped her bicep with far too much aggression.
Oh, absolutely not. Not on her watch.
She leapt, the wires on her support gear jutting out to help swing her half a dozen floors down. The woman seemed to notice her first, freezing, while the man continued to leer at her.
“Come on, just a little kiss. Maybe you’ll like it, maybe you’ll want me all over you—”
It was blissfully satisfying when her knee collided with his chin and sent him barrelling away into the wall, the woman sinking to the floor as she was freed.
She hastily made sure he was still breathing, smiling when the tell tales signs of a fractured jaw pressed against her wandering hands.
Justice served indeed.
“What a creep. You okay, miss?”
She turned, hand offered out to the young woman, but was entirely unprepared for what she was about to see.
Since she was a little girl, Himiko had loved easily. Blood was the preoccupation of her life — the fuel for her quirk, the force that connected all beings, and the most beautiful, impartial object she could think of. Her love for blood helped her love all living things simply and completely. Hizashi called it pure, a love uncorrupted by prejudice, while Shota had warned her that love given up so easily was perilous.
He reminded her that love made you vulnerable, and that she should know that if she kept loving the way she had so far, then she would always be dancing with danger.
Of course, his warnings hadn’t stopped her, not until many boys and girls had broken her heart and she realised that, perhaps, not every being deserved a love as deep and forgiving as hers. So as she’d matured, and especially once she started taking on a variety of sexual partners, she started to realise that love and pleasure could be linked but distinct, that love and friendship could co-exist without obsession, that not every moment had to be romanticised to the point of parody.
It was a relief in some ways, to love a little less.
But as she looked down into rich chocolate eyes, streaked with amber in the neon streetlights, and as a shaking, delicate hand slipped into her own, she felt that all too familiar rush squeeze her heart. Blood was pumping in the woman’s hand, frantic and terrified, and her quirk ached with the desire to soothe it.
The woman rose to her feet slowly and Himiko took her in. Curves poured into a cheap satin dress, auburn hair curled slightly as it sat on her shoulders, cute little apple cheeks stained with a blush, and full lips slightly apart as she stared at the hero in front of her.
A heavy thump in her chest merely confirmed what she already knew.
It had taken three hours of her new job for Himiko Toga to find a new love interest.
Idiot. This woman was scared, hand trembling in her own, and Himiko was too busy gawking to help her. She cleared her throat and forced herself to speak.
“Miss?”
It was a profound loss when the sound of her voice jolted the woman into removing her hand, a shy smile forming on her face as she nodded.
“Yes, thank you. I’m very grateful you arrived when you did, miss…?”
Her soft voice tailed off, head cutely cocked to one side, and Himiko smiled broadly. Her dads had always said her fangs were so cute they put people at ease, so hopefully they worked with this nervous young woman too. Big brown eyes flicked to her mouth and widened further.
Good. Her fangs really were such a gift.
“I’m Himiko, a hero in training. Um, this is actually my first day! And you’re the first person I’ve helped, so that’s really awesome. You’ll always be my first!”
Her grin faltered slightly as her brain caught up to the words that had left her idiotic mouth.
Oh my god why did she say that?!
Her cheeks lit up and the other woman followed suit, covering her face with hands that were still trembling slightly.
“O-oh, right, um, that’s nice? Good?”
Fantastic, now she’d made the person she was trying to save feel awkward and embarrassed. Just as she was brainstorming about how to salvage this shit show, a familiar whoosh of wings descended from above.
For once, Himiko was grateful for his interruption.
“Well hey there ma’am, how are you doing?”
The other woman’s face morphed impressively quickly, the embarrassment vanishing in place of blank meekness as she squinted up at Hawks.
That was…odd? Maybe she was just intimated by the Number 2 hero. She wouldn’t be the first to be awed into passivity by Hawks.
“Fine, sir. Your new hero bravely stepped in to save me from a lecherous man.”
Hawks hummed, eyes scanning the scene as his wings kept him off the ground.
“Good as that is, do you know that this is a pretty dangerous area, Miss? I wouldn’t go around here dressed like that and expect anything other than a bad outcome. You should probably head home — shall I get Himiko to escort you?”
Fresh heat hit Himiko’s cheeks at the thought of them arm-in-arm walking home, doused only by the woman’s gentle laughter.
“Oh gosh, no no, I have friends inside, I’ll just get them to take me back. Please, I would hate to interrupt the busy schedules of pro heroes.”
Those gorgeous eyes swung back to her and she smiled, cute pink cheeks becoming rosier as they held eye contact.
Himiko was on the cusp of insisting she helped her home, as much to spend more time with her as any latent sense of chivalry, when a tall woman exited the club at a jog. She looked over to them, paused for a second, then she seemed to spot the woman behind her.
This new woman was wearing sunglasses and dressed like a butch, with her loose fitting jeans and distinctly masculine shirt. Her long brown hair reminded Himiko of haircuts that were in vogue when she was a kid, and she looked at least a decade older than the other woman.
They knew each other? They were an odd match, if that was the case.
“Ah, O, there you are. We lost you.”
Himiko turned to see if the woman — O? —actually did know her, but it was the look on Hawks’ face that surprised her.
Recognition, for sure. He didn’t seem to know the first woman, but he did know the second?
The Hizashi part of her brain wanted to loudly speculate and demand an explanation, but Shota’s voice was urging her to be patient.
Observe. Catalogue. Figure out the connections.
A gentle hand on her shoulder made her jump, which sent a sweet giggle swirling around her brain.
“Sorry to scare you, Himiko. I just wanted to say thank you for saving me, and to wish you good luck on your first day. I better go give my statement to the police.”
Himiko wanted to say something to make her stay, to learn her actual name and not just an initial, but the woman was already moving away.
“You’re, uh, very welcome. Hope you get home safe.”
She was treated to one last smile that made her heart feel like it weighed nothing in her chest before she walked away. Himiko watched her hips sway every step before she was out of sight, an officer waving her over and into the night.
Her first patrol.
Of course she would fall a little bit in love on her first fucking patrol.
“You gonna keep staring longingly or can we go back to work?”
Hawks was grinning down at her, irritatingly prescient.
It was fine.
She used to fall in and out of love all the time. This wouldn’t be any different. It was just the adrenaline of her first patrol, the rush of finally starting her journey as a hero.
Now she just had to see out the rest of the night without embarrassing herself further.
*~*~*~*
Himiko had almost forgotten how she got when she was a little lovesick. She was practically floating on her patrol, grinning like an idiot every time she thought about that cute woman she had saved. What was her name? What did O stand for? What did she do? What was her story?
She was sure she would recognise her from a mile away, the beautiful face ingrained in her mind.
One of the joys of being someone with such capacity for love was the rush every time, the thrum of endorphins that made everything brighter and better.
Over six hours on patrol, the clock ticking past 3am, and she felt as well rested and prepared as she had at the start. As she positively skipped across a rooftop, her communicator crackled to life in her ear.
“Heads up, gang. We’ve been called to a bank robbery at MUFG. Himiko, you’re riding with me.”
Before she could process what that meant a set of feathers appeared and scooped her up, accelerating immediately into the sky. She bit back a scream at the sudden shift, grateful she hadn’t dropped her scythe in the process. She growled into her communicator, entirely unimpressed.
“A little more notice next time would be great…”
Hawks snorted down the line, far too pleased with himself as usual.
The speed, admittedly, did help them arrive at the bank ludicrously quickly. Mitsubishi UFJ Financial Group, commonly known as MUFG, was the most prestigious bank in Tokyo. They employed state of the art security to protect the over ¥400 trillion of assets that they held and proudly boasted of their ability to shield against even the most potent of quirks.
Apparently that may have been a foolish challenge to issue.
She expected to get there to the sound of fighting, or at least to a buzz of activity, but there was merely the sight of several police cars, lights on but sirens off, and a group of officers gathered around the entrance.
As they touched down, Hawks seemed equally confused.
“Hey, officers, we got a call about a robbery in progress — doesn’t seem like anything is happening here?”
A woman turned from her colleagues to greet them.
“Ah Hawks, I’m Detective Jummoto.”
She jerked her head towards the building.
“And there was a robbery all right. It was just over before any of us got here.”
Himiko checked her watch, wondering if she had misunderstood. It had taken them less than 5 minutes to make it here. The call said the robbery was in progress, not that it was over. How on earth did they not only commit a robbery at the most heavily guarded bank in Japan but get away clean in that time?
Hawks whistled lowly, a genuine grin on his face.
“How fun. Some actual professionals. What did they take?”
Himiko had accompanied her father to a few bank robberies during her training for her provisional licensing exam. Given the level of physical security, it usually required a very particular meld of quirks to break in - someone with specialised cutting or heat that could burn through reinforced steel, someone strong enough to haul the loot away, and a technology user of some description to scramble the lasers and cameras, ideally to delay the alarm too.
But the Detective was explaining that this institution was better protected. Alongside the standard sealed internal shuttering, the MUFG was reinforced by eighteen layers of maraging steel, an extremely heavy and almost impenetrable metal that could only really be circumnavigated through intense heat.
“Of course they thought about that, so even if a crew brought along a fire user who could burn at over 1,400°C, they would have to go through those eighteen layers, almost certainly wearing out their quirk in the process. Then, once victory seemed in sight, they would encounter a layer of tungsten. Now, tungsten, as I’m sure you know, is technically the strongest metal on earth but it’s also brittle - it would be a poor choice for a first line of defence if the team had a villain with a particularly powerful strength quirk. But given these hypothetical criminals would have had to burn their way through the first 18 layers, they would probably not have both an incredibly powerful fire user and an incredibly powerful strength user, right? So, logically, they would probably have to burn this one too and Tungsten’s melting point is over 3,400°C, so over twice as hot as the previous layers and beyond most quirk users and industrial blow torches, especially if they had just burned through the first 18 layers. Heck, when they installed this apparently one of the engineers joked that only Endeavor himself would be able to burn through it.”
They all let that quip settle uncomfortably as they stared through a crisp, burned hole that ran right through the steel shutters, the eighteen layers of maraging steel, and a tungsten layer so badly burnt that it had begun to shatter.
Over 3,400°C. There was someone out here robbing banks with a quirk that could burn over 3,400°C, seemingly with considerable ease.
Hawks crouched down, examining the scorch marks at the base of the hole, an impenetrable expression on his face. The Detective watched him, shifting her weight to lean on her other hip.
“I’m afraid that’s not all.”
He lifted his head up and followed the Detective’s line of sight, a sharp inhale accompanying whatever he was looking at.
“Well, that’s interesting.”
As Himiko followed the sidekicks through the hole and into the bank proper, her breath caught.
Another gargantuan hole sat at the base of the building, where a series of underground vaults were visible. The ground had been torn open, and, by her quick count, about half the vaults had been taken. It was an astonishing display of strength, so perhaps they had a strength user with them after all, but that wasn’t what confused her.
“They didn’t take them all?”
She’d asked the question before it even occurred to her if she should, Hawks glancing up at her curiously.
“No, they took just under half from what we could tell. My officers are in the process of compiling a list of who owns the ones they took for us to review. Why do you ask?”
Hawks was staring at her now, entirely focused on her theorising, and her stomach knotted a little from anxiety.
“Well, they had the ability to break in and they clearly would have been capable of taking them all, so why didn’t they? Was it too much to carry? That seems unlikely, given half the vaults should have been too much for any team to carry, so we have to assume that weight or volume wasn’t a problem to this gang, that their quirks somehow enabled this. So, if they had mitigated those two limitations, why not take it all? It’s almost like they got what they wanted, so the rest of it was for a show, a demonstration of restraint, or maybe even a little bonus to the main prize. I wonder…”
She paused, trying to turn it over in her head, but the more she did the firmer her conviction became.
“I wonder if they were actually only here for one vault, but they took a bunch of others to disguise which one.”
Hawks grinned at her, that genuine grin that was so different from the lazy mask he liked to wear. It suited him so much more.
“See, I knew having Eraserhead’s daughter here would be helpful.”
Several heroes and police officers jolted their heads in her direction, awestruck, and any warmth she was feeling towards Hawks evaporated.
Fantastic. She hated it when nepotism made people weird around her.
“And I agree with you, Himiko. This was more targeted than it looks. Do you have that list of impacted vaults yet?”
A young officer nodded, pressing the right hand side of his face. A ream of paper began printing out from the flesh of his cheek, a list of names carefully embossed on it. None of their colleagues reacted to this particularly odd quirk, to her quiet amusement. She knew at least one green-haired nerd who would be delighted to theorise effusively about it.
Hawks frowned at the page, turning to the officer.
“If that has been printed from your face, is this paper made of your skin?”
He flushed, the page falling out of his cheek as the list was complete.
“Um, technically yes, sir. But I can assure you it is entirely sanitary.”
The hero looked unconvinced but he carefully plucked the paper up anyway, sharp eyes scanning the lines as Himiko read over his shoulder.
She was surprised that his blood was thumping hard enough for her quirk to perk up, intrigued by what was exciting Hawks to have him react like this. Was it the thrill of a chase? The puzzle? Or did he know more than he was letting on?
Two sets of golden eyes landed on a name that made them pause. Hawks’ blood, somehow, pounded even louder and she had to take a precautionary step back to calm her inquisitive quirk.
Listed on the page was one Enji Todoroki, otherwise known as the Number 1 hero, Endeavor.
And apparently he had just been robbed.
*~*~*~*
The hunt was on.
Hawks had split them up, dispatching his charges in teams of two to form a net. The villains couldn’t have been much more than 10 minutes ahead of them and, given the speed and agility of Hawks’ team, he was confident they could catch up.
Himiko glanced up at Robin, her assigned member of the winged male entourage that made up Hawks’ sidekicks, before focussing on her own steps.
This was taking too long. The villain’s already had a head start and their only advantage was their numbers and agility. They should probably —
“Yo, Himiko, shall we split up to cover more ground? I go right, you go left?”
She almost laughed back through her comms.
“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll hail you if I find anything or need help.”
Mere seconds after Robin had banked away to the right, removing Himiko from his line of sight,
a shadow went past, slinking round her with a giggle.
She stumbled in shock, scrambling to keep her feet as she tried to keep the shadow in sight.
What the hell? Was that one of the villains?
She was surprised to see the shadow turn to make sure she was following, the bright glint of teeth betraying a broad smile. The city lights briefly caught her and she saw the distinct outline of a woman, wearing a skin tight cat suit.
Oh, the kitty wanted to be pursued? That she could do.
The chase was exhilarating. She was taking corners at a sprint, her lungs burning as her body stretched taut trying to keep up with this woman, who she suspected might have been part vapour. The woman — villain?— dominated the rooftops like they were her own, like she knew them better than anyone who might dare to intrude.
Strangely, it reminded her a little of her father, how Shota would stalk above the city with authority and composure. Except this woman was wilder — somehow graceful, and astonishingly light on her feet, but incredibly reckless all in one. She seemed to have no fear of falling, slipping right to the edge of buildings as she ran. As she stalked her footsteps, Himiko knew she was running headlong into a trap but, ridiculously, she couldn’t bring herself to stop.
This woman felt dangerous, but it was enticing. Exciting, like saving a patient that was bleeding out or shocking someone back to life.
The shadow spun into a warehouse and Himiko dove after her, skidding to a halt while her chest heaved with exertion.
How long had she been chasing her? Where was she now?
She was panting and trying to squint into the darkness around her when she was pounced, her back slamming into the ground and her scythe spinning away as a weight settled on top of her. Before she could catch her bearings, her arms were pinned above her head by one firm hand and her legs were trapped by the body pressed into her.
Heat started to rise to Himiko’s face when she felt the strength and the curves of the body holding her down, all encased in that skin tight black catsuit, that she could now see had sporadic pink accents. A hooded mask with cute cat ears covered her hair, leaving only two dark strands of hair framing her face. A further thick black mask was affixed around her eyes, framing them beautifully. To her surprise, those eyes glowed lightly, pink rimming the outside of what otherwise looked like brown irises.
As Himiko took her in, memories sparked of studying for her provisional license, of revising a list of the most dangerous villains in the country with her parents. There was one villain who might meet this description, a slippery and rarely seen woman whose quirk wasn’t known but whose deeds most certainly were.
She suspected that straddling her, frankly dominating her, was the A-ranked villain Zero, infamous for her barely believable feats of daring and a tendency to ruthlessly dispatch those who got in her way. She was a criminal who had completed a staggering number of heists and, pertinently, a killer.
And, apparently, she was also this fucking pretty.
Of course.
Himiko was still panting, but the woman on top of her was grinning, seemingly much less affected by their race.
“Oh hero, don’t you know not to run blindly after big, bad villains like this?”
Zero pressed closer as she clicked her tongue in disapproval, her full chest pressing into Himiko’s in a way that was embarrassingly distracting.
“Is it your first day or something, cutie?”
Her voice was lilting, teasing, but there was a sharpness lingering just behind it that kept her on edge. With her hands pinned above her head, and thick thighs pinning her to the floor, Himiko was all too aware of how exposed she was. Unfortunately, she was equally aware of how irritatingly appealing the woman holding her down was. Her body was thrumming with energy again, pulled towards this villain instinctively, just like the woman outside the club. It didn’t help that her quirk was relishing the steady thump of the villain’s blood, sweet adrenaline coating her tongue as her quirk attuned to the beat. How would this woman taste, if her blood was in her mouth?
The errant thought shocked some sense into her, helping her re-focus on the fact that she was in trouble here.
She needed to stop gawking and start trying to save her own life.
“Actually it, um, it is my first day. I’m not a proper hero yet. My n-name is Himiko.”
The woman nosed at her jaw, tightening her hold as she did.
“Aww, it’s your first time. I feel kind of honoured.”
Himiko’s pulse was thudding in her ears, confused arousal obliterating her senses. Why was this woman making her insane?
“Are you Zero?”
An affirming hum sent goosebumps flowering across her skin, heat following swiftly behind.
Himiko swallowed, keenly aware that she should really be trying harder to get out of her grasp. She shifted, bucking her hips, and the villain laughed loudly, pulling back to stare down at her, even as her grip remained tight.
“Steady on. We’ve only just met and you’re already trying to have your way with me?”
She realised, belatedly, that Zero was the cat and she was a pathetic little mouse, trapped and being toyed with. The villain could do whatever she wanted to her, and that knowledge was setting off some kind of chain reaction in her gut.
Before she could scold herself for being such a ridiculous person, a knife appeared at her throat and Himiko froze, sweat slipping down her spine. Zero sighed, her mouth briefly downturned.
“Silly little hero. You’re far too pretty to die on your first shift — run along back to Hawks and I’ll forget I ever saw you here, Himiko.”
Relief fought against the heat sparked at hearing her name purred out of this woman’s mouth, the conflicting emotions tinged by a bizarre sense of disappointment, like she couldn’t quite believe this was ending so soon.
Clearly Himiko needed to go back to therapy. She hadn’t been this absurdly lovestruck since she was a teenager. And twice in one night!
Zero relaxed her hold on her hands, while the hand gripping the knife ran a blunt edge down her cheek.
“You’re adorable. There’s a little part of you that wants me to kiss you right now, isn’t there?”
Zero grinned with all of her teeth, pressing her hips harder against Himiko. Her pulse galloped and a small but mortifying moan escaped her lips as the truth of that statement was made clear.
The pink around those eyes flashed harder as her gaze flicked to Himiko’s open mouth, and the air thickened around them.
Was she actually going to…? Did Himiko want her to?
Zero sighed, releasing her hands. Her wrists immediately ached at the loss of contact.
“Maybe next time, cutie.”
She kissed Himiko’s cheek, a fleeting peck, and by the time she had inhaled a sharp breath at the contact the villain was already gone.
Himiko lay on the floor, panting and staring at the ceiling, for a mortifying length of time. Any pretence that she had been unaffected by the encounter was belied by the knot in her stomach and the faint wetness between her legs.
“Oh fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck.”
She’d been turned on by a villain.
She’d been terrifyingly close to letting said villain do whatever she wanted to her.
What the fuck was wrong with her?
*~*~*~*