Chapter Text
The seat beneath you was miserable to sit on. Too wobbly and definitely not built for comfort. But who were you to complain? When was the last time you sat on anything that wasn’t a cold, hard floor? Probably ages ago. Hard to keep track of time without a moon to count by. It was impossible through the thick concrete walls of your cell. Some prisoners got lucky. You? You screwed up badly enough to earn a spot where days couldn’t be counted.
"We should begin." The woman across from you said, all stiff posture and semi-formal suit ironed to perfection. Damn, her blazer had lines cleaner than your criminal record. You could’ve rocked that outfit once. Hell, you might’ve been the trendsetter for the new type of office siren if it were up to you. Now you were stuck in this godawful orange jumpsuit that made you look like a traffic cone with anger issues. Tragic.
"We’re rolling." Said the cameraman, barely keeping it together. His hands were trembling like you were already halfway into his nightmares. And honestly, you probably were. If it weren’t for the cuffs keeping you tied down, you’d give him something less family-friendly to film. But nope. No quirk here. No fists. Although if he dared to lean in too close, you might still get to chew off his fingers.
"So…" The woman started, her voice shifting into something more stern, more commanding. She must’ve thought she needed to sound tough for someone like you. Cute. "Y/N L/N. It’s been a year since your capture and detainment in the new Tartarus facility. Is that correct?"
"A year?" You tilted your head, letting the grin curl at the edges of your mouth. "Wow. Time really flies by when you’re making everyone uncomfortable." You drank in the tension like it was the richest champagne. God, fear had never smelled so good. You missed this. You hadn’t had this much fun since-
Slap.
The guard’s gloved hand smacked the back of your skull.
"Answer the question." He barked. "No reward if you don’t cooperate."
"Yeah… it’s been a goddamn year. Happy anniversary to me, I guess. Yay." You said through gritted teeth, tasting blood and defiance. That foul mouth of yours has always been a problem. Even now, when you had nobody to open it to.
The woman nodded, probably pretending this was all going according to the script.
"Our viewers have one question for you." She leaned forward, mic close to your lips. The pause was definitely way too dramatic. "Why did you do it?"
Because society failed us.
You wanted to say.
Because you kill what you fear and fear what you can’t control. Because you laughed when you should’ve listened. Because the system is a joke. Because nobody listens until something explodes. Because you all had it coming.
Because HE was right.
You turned your head slowly, eyes locked on the camera lens. The silence stretched like the final breath before a storm.
And then... you smiled. Wide, wicked, and wild.
"Because it was fucking fun."
-
You were, as people would so kindly put it, a fraud.
Back when everything fell apart, guess who got blamed for things they didn’t even understand? You. The convenient scapegoat. Not because you were guilty, but because you were available. Breathing, weird, and inconvenient. You spooked people with your quirk a few times, and that was all it took.
Right. Your quirk.
The first time, it was cute. Aww, you brought your dead goldfish back. Everyone clapped. Literally clapped. Like you were the new baby Jesus.
The second time? Not so cute. Especially since your neighbor’s cat came back with its skeleton poking out of places skeletons shouldn’t be. Suddenly it was "demonic" and "concerning" and "please leave the neighborhood before we call an exorcist."
Very nice things to say to a five-year-old.
Apparently, bringing back a beloved pet is a miracle. Bringing it back incorrectly is a horror movie. Who could've guessed?
You weren't the first one to learn the truth the hard way. Society liked things neat, predictable, normal. And you weren't any of those. Normal, normal, normal... It sounded almost too wrong to say. Because nothing was fucking normal anymore.
Your legs swung lazily over the rooftop edge. It was a long way down. Not the fun kind of long either. Some of the girls in your crew kept a safe distance from it, probably because they were smarter than you. Others joined you, tiptoeing the line between a casual hangout and a tragic newspaper headline.
You didn’t see the big deal. Mizusa, your ever-terrifying gyaru teammate, could patch up almost any kind of damage. Worst-case scenario, you’d just bring them back to life. Maybe with a few bones sticking out and a few organs hanging out of their abdomen, but still. Not a problem.
Although, as you took another swig of a beer that was way too warm, the successful resurrection part felt... not so certain.
Drunkenness was a bliss. It made you dizzy, dumb, and deliciously detached from society’s little performance. You were a fraud. A total poser. Pretending to lead something that looked suspiciously like a girl gang, a therapy group, and a villainous organization all at once.
You turned around to look at the cozy sight behind you: a group of giggling girls, sipping their beers, shouting and probably gossiping too. Always girls. No men. Men were toys. Girls were teammates. Girls were the ones who stuck around when shit got messy.
"Leader…" A barely audible voice rang behind you. Touka. Sweet, shy Touka. She looked like a hamster, the kind of girl who said sorry when YOU tripped. If you weren’t busy being drunk and flirting with the gravity, you could pinch her cute little cheeks.
"...Someone is yelling at us to come down. Says it’s illegal…"
"Is it a hero?" You slurred out, head wobbling from side to side.
"Nope. A Cop." Another girl said. You had no clue who exactly. They were all too blurry at this point. Were there six of them? Seven? You briefly debated counting but forgot mid-thought.
“Well, then I really don’t care.” You muttered and glanced over the edge.
Sure enough, a man in blue was pacing below like a trapped animal.
You crushed your beer can with a loud crack and without thinking, threw it right at him. That turned out to be a direct hit. Heh. The man below dropped to the ground, yelling curses that were thankfully too far away to matter.
You stood up (bad idea), stumbled (even worse idea) and turned to face your crew with learned confidence. Like you weren’t slightly tipsy and fully lying through your teeth.
"Okay, listen up…" You said, swaying dramatically. The girls instinctively moved closer, ready to catch you if the gravity finally won. "We don’t care about the cops. Or the rules. Or the bitter little nobodies who call themselves heroes!"
Your voice boomed a little more than you meant it to. The girls stepped back. Not in fear, but in 'oh no, she is doing the big speech again' kind of way.
“Even heroes can’t do jack shit to us. You hear me? No more hiding. No more surviving. From now on, we own Musutafu!”
The rest of this half-hour rant was a mystery.
You knew it was all bullshit. You were drunk. Tired. A little lonely. You didn’t have a plan, just a bit too much confidence and a bunch of girls who somehow trusted you to figure life out for them.
You didn’t want to be a leader. You weren’t built for it. You weren't brave or strong or charismatic. And honestly, you dreamt of fleeing more than once.
Yet, you gave those girls a place to stay. A little warmth in a world that had gone cold. That was all. And somehow, that was enough. Enough for them to follow you like a bunch of newborn ducklings.
Fuck, if someone could save you...
-
Fate was a funny mistress. And she clearly had a special place in her heart for messing with you.
First, because the worst hangover of your entire life fell upon you just a few hours later.
Second, because that abandoned rooftop you crashed on the other day wasn't so abandoned.
Now, you sat slouched at the kitchen counter, a cold glass of water pressed to your forehead like it might erase the last 24 hours. Maybe drinking it would help. But even thinking about putting something in your mouth made your stomach clench in agony.
And the worst part wasn’t even the hangover.
No, the worst part was the stupid video still playing on loop in front of you. The old laptop somehow managed to display it in perfect resolution, which felt like a personal attack.
One million views.
It had to be some kind of joke.
And in the video? You. Loud, proud, and full of confidence that could only be explained by the fact that your bloodstream was mostly consisting of alcohol at the time. But the video didn’t show any of that. No, it made you look perfectly sober. Like you meant every single word of your Big Bad Girl monologue.
"Fuck…" You muttered for what had to be the hundredth time. Your head throbbed in agreement. Maybe it wasn’t even the hangover. Maybe this was just the physical reaction to extreme secondhand embarrassment…
Some jackass recorded you. People freaked out. The news was already throwing around terms like 'new villain group'. Just because you got a little too into your speech about fucking the authority or revenge or whatever the hell you were yelling about back then.
Why you? Why was it always your own mouth getting you into trouble?
"Y/N." Mizusa dropped a box of pills in front of you. Headache meds. Or poison. Hard to tell with her.
"Not now…" you muttered, covering your face with your hand. Mizusa, of course, didn’t budge. She just stood there. Tall, unamused and built like someone who could snap you in half without smudging her cherry lip gloss. If she wasn’t twice your size, you might’ve shoved her out of the room. Not that you had the energy to lift anything heavier than a middle finger right now. "I’m not in the mood." You added, voice muffled.
"I can tell." She poked the side of your head with one of her long, sparkly pink nails and your skull tilted to the other side like it had given up. "Get it together. Sure, you said some dumb shit. Big deal. You’re the leader... or close enough. Maybe now people will actually take us seriously."
You gave her a slow, deliberate smile. And it wasn't the nice kind.
"Oh, totally. That’s exactly how it works. We scare the world with a drunken villain speech and then bam! Respect. Maybe they’ll even send us flowers. Congratulations on your crimes, please rob us next- Ow!"
That evil little nail got you again. Harder this time.
"I get it. You’re having your little pity party. That’s fine. Just don’t let the girls see it. They still think you know what you’re doing.”
And unfortunately, she was right. You had a whole crew depending on you. You couldn’t afford to look like you were about to become one with the floor.
You glanced at her. Two meters of fake tan, even faker boobs, bleached blonde hair, more makeup than a cosmetics aisle. And the attitude to match, no less.
"Mizu-chan…" You leaned in close, voice soft and whiny. You nuzzled against her arm like a desperate stray, half hoping her orange glow didn’t transfer to your skin by accident. “You’re a healer, right? Maybe you could help me out? Just a little bit? Hmm?”
"Suffer." She said flatly. Figures she would answer that way.
“I’m dying… Mizusa…” You gasped dramatically, reaching for her like you were in a soap opera. "You have to spit on me… or I won’t make it…"
"Die then."
You dropped the act and glared at her.
"Bitch."
"Try harder, slut." With that, she flipped you off and walked away, leaving only a cloud of overpriced perfume behind.
So that was that. Once again, fate was laughing her ass off.
But self-pity? That was for late-night sobbing in your way too empty bed. Right now, you needed a plan. And perhaps you already had one. Sort of. Kind of.
-
Once the hangover finally stopped trying to assassinate you, your mind locked onto one single, glorious thought.
And yes, you were going to announce it to the whole team like you knew what you were doing. Whether it was genius or pure delusion... well, history would be the judge of that.
"We’re going shopping." You declared with the confidence of someone who hadn’t just been curled up on the kitchen floor an hour ago.
Every head turned toward you like they expected you to be dead already. The girls froze mid-chaos. One with a half-eaten sandwich still in her hand, another elbow-deep in someone else’s hair dye. All of them staring right at you.
"Shopping?" One of them finally said. "Aren’t we, like… wanted criminals?"
Fair question. Reasonable, even. But your grin stayed firmly in place, unbothered by things like reality or consequences. You’d been expecting that question and now it was time for your dramatic comeback.
"That’s why we’re not going to a regular store."
You paused for effect, letting the mystery marinate. Judging by the confused looks being traded, your attempt at being cool and cryptic was actually working. Wow, miracles did truly happen.
"So… if not a store, then where?" Another one asked, trying to keep up.
"The sketchiest place on this side of the city. Where they don't give out receipts." You replied as if that explained anything. "It’s time we got ourselves some nice new costumes."
Because if you were going to accidentally start a villain group, you were at least going to look good doing it.
-
Giran. Sly as a fox, greedy as a hog. No matter how many times you batted your pretty lashes at him, he wouldn’t budge. You could pay him now or pay him later. But if you liked your fingers where they were, sooner was definitely the better option.
"Oh, come on... how about a tiny little discount?" You whined right in his face.
Behind you, your girl gang was living their best villain lives. Trying on gear, modeling matching costumes, looking like an edgy idol group gone feral. They were thrilled. So, naturally, you grabbed Touka by the shoulders and practically shoved her at Giran like a living bribe.
"Look at her! Look at this face! You wouldn’t want to make her sad, would you?"
Sure, the girl was small and cute and looked like she was about to cry any second now... That still wasn't enough to melt Giran’s stone heart.
"Full price. No discount." He repeated, clearly unamused.
Your mouth opened. Ready to beg, argue, damn, even sell a kidney... when the door swung wide open behind you.
And in walked a man you definitely would’ve remembered. Those scars really were hard to forget. He was tall, draped in black, with eyes bluer than Weezer's album. But the real red flag? The girl walking beside him. Way too young. Still in a school uniform. And way too cheerful for someone hanging out with what looked like a walking crime scene.
"What is this? Girl scout assembly?" The man said, barely glancing around. And that tone of his really made you dislike him even more.
"Just more clients." Giran said with a wave of his hand. "Sit down. I’ll get to you in a minute."
Apparently that was enough for the new guy and the girl. They took a seat in the corner, the girl bouncing like this was a fun field trip. She eyed your group with such curiosity too, clearly excited to see you try out your new gear.
"Leader." Mizusa hissed into your ear, not-so-subtly nodding at the girl. Her eyes were screaming at you to fix this. Preferably right now.
"I know, I know…" You sighed, already weighing your life choices. Mizusa wouldn’t shut up until you did something. And frankly, it did look sketchy.
So, naturally, without thinking (as usual), you walked over to them.
"Excuse me. Mind if I join?" You said, squeezing yourself next to the man before either of them could say no.
"What are you-" He looked like he was about to commit a murder. And you were his next victim.
"You two look real close." You cut him off with a smile. "Are you friends? Siblings? Lovers?"
The girl giggled, and honestly, it was kind of cute. Especially since her pretty face was decorated with adorable pearl-white fangs.
"Ew, no!" She said brightly. "Dabi is not even cute!"
Such a sweet girl, you thought. Angel right from the heavens itself.
And then you looked at the guy beside you.
Yikes.
"So, Mister Dabi, was it?" You leaned in. "Why are you hanging out with a schoolgirl? You into high schoolers or something?"
Despite the mask of indifference, that question made his eye twitch. A little win for you.
"Do you have an actual death wish?" He finally asked. Maybe you did have a death wish after all. But death never stuck to you anyway, so whatever.
"I just think your girl would be better off without you." You said nonchalantly, reaching across the table to take her hands. "What’s your name, sweetheart?"
"Toga. Himiko Toga."
"Toga-chan." You repeated, grinning like you just found a stray kitten. "Ever think about joining an all-girl gang? No creepy men allowed."
Toga paused. You could practically see the gears turning in her head. And it was still adorable. Just like the rest of her.
But then she just grinned, the same way she did before.
"I’m fine."
Bummer.
But it was fine. She was her own person. With her own choices. If she felt like following Mister Creepy Guy around, she should be allowed to do so.
"Alright." You said, letting go of her hands. "But if you ever need a place to stay or someone to stab things with, my door’s always open, okay?"
It was more than an offer. It was a rule. All girls deserved second chances. Third. Fourth. An infinite amount of chances, even.
"Should we wrap it up?" Mizusa called from behind you. Somehow, she’d managed to negotiate a better deal with Giran while you were busy. Damn, you really sucked at this.
"Yeah, yeah…" You stood up, already trailing after the others. But before you left, you glanced back at Toga one last time. "So whatever you need..." You said, pointing to yourself with a dramatic flair. “...remember this face.”
Then you ran off after your squad, who apparently had absolutely no problem leaving you behind. Rude.
"…Annoying." Dabi muttered the moment you were gone.
Toga, still staring at the door, tilted her head.
"…I think I’ve heard that voice somewhere before…"
-
It was honestly kind of heartwarming to see the girls thriving for the past week. They were running around the hideout like a bunch of raccoons on crack, testing out their new gear, striking dramatic poses, and yelling out villain names they just made up.
You leaned casually against Mizusa, who was watching the chaos unfold with the same level of amusement.
"…So uh… how exactly are we paying for all this?" You whispered, trying to sound casual, as if that minor detail had just occurred to you.
"You don’t have the money!?" She screamed. Well, she tried to scream. But you slapped your hand over her mouth fast enough to save what was left of your dignity as a leader.
"Shhh! Don’t ruin the vibe!" You hissed. "It’s fine! Totally fine! We just have to, you know... mildly intimidate a bank employee or two. Nothing crazy.”
Mizusa looked like she was seriously weighing whether to punch you or bury you alive in the backyard again. Both were real possibilities.
"Girls!" You called out, clapping your hands. "Tomorrow, we’re going out to make a little chaos. Mommy wants to see some real money on the table by dinnertime!"
"Maybe Mommy shouldn’t have blown the budget on a minibar and a hot tub." Mizusa was being exceptionally bitter today.
"Maybe Mommy should lock the hot tub then, especially from the person who uses it three times a day minimum." You shot back.
That shut her up. For now.
The plan was in motion. And hopefully, your new villain costumes will do their job. Mainly, keeping your identities hidden when the cops or heroes inevitably showed up.
-
So there you were. At a supermarket.
Not exactly the dramatic debut you'd envisioned for your first official heist. To be honest, you kind of expected to be breaking into the Pentagon, or at least some bougie bank with golden floors. Something that screamed, 'We are a menace to society, fear us!'
But no. It was aisle six, shopping carts and a sticky floor.
Touka was trying to reach a pack of candy on the top shelf, kicking at it with the ferocity of an angry kitten. The rest of the girls were wheeling carts around, already clearing out another aisle. And the employees? Huddled in the corner, whispering prayers to whatever was responsible for handling store emergencies, while your little zombie critters stood guard nearby like creepy store mascots. You always brought them along in jars of formalin, hidden in the back of your van. Just in case. Fresh corpses were surprisingly hard to come by in the city.
"Stop right there, you criminal scum!" One of the employees shouted, stepping out like he just suddenly decided to go all vigilante on you.
You blinked at him. He looked like he regretted it immediately. His shaky legs made him look like a baby deer that would soon become roadkill.
And right on cue, one of your girls stepped in with a casual kick to the side that dropped him to the ground, folding him like origami.
The poor hostages in the corner whimpered harder. You kind of felt bad. This wasn't personal, after all.
"No need to panic. We’re not here to hurt anyone. We just need a few… supplies." You gestured at your girl gang, who were still arguing over what kind of chips to choose. "We don’t bite. Unless provoked, that is."
It didn’t help. Someone definitely started crying harder.
"Leader!" One of your girls called, sounding mildly concerned. "Some guys just pulled up outside. They don't look like heroes, though."
Well, that was weird. You expected a hero squad, maybe a dramatic speech about justice too. But someone else? Not part of the plan.
“Y/N!”
Before you could even turn around, someone small tackled you to the floor like an excited puppy.
"Toga-chan!" You grinned from the linoleum, clearly way too happy for someone back-down on a floor where thousands of shoes had walked. "What are you doing here? Finally decided to join the cool girls?"
She shook her head.
"Nah. New boss. He said we had to rob a place. Something about proving loyalty or whatever. Honestly, kinda boring."
New boss, huh? The villain job market was clearly booming.
Toga hopped off you and helped you up.
"Well, sorry for stealing your crime scene, Toga-chan. Maybe there's another store nearby that needs a little more chaos."
She fidgeted a bit. Yeah, she definitely had some energy to spare for a quick heist.
"Yeah... the boss isn’t gonna like this. He’s kinda cranky."
You sighed.
"Oh good. Another angry man with a god complex. Can’t wait." Still, you threw on your most dazzling fake smile. "Come on, take me to him. I’m sure we can talk it out."
Because, yeah. Villains were totally known for being chill and completely reasonable. What could possibly go wrong?
-
As you walked up to the entrance of the building, you noticed right away that this group was… bigger than you expected. Actually, about the same size as your own crew. Just with way more dudes. Which, okay, wasn’t a crime. But when you spent your time surrounded by girls who all had very personal reasons to be suspicious of men, then yeah… You weren’t exactly in the mood to be all buddy-buddy.
"Hello there." You called out with a painfully awkward smile, cringing at the weirdly chipper tone that escaped your mouth. Improvising was supposed to be your thing, but somehow it always ended up 30% less cool than in your head.
You scanned the group, trying to pick out the mysterious new boss Toga had mentioned. No big scary leader type in sight. You figured he’d reveal himself eventually. For now, your attention landed on someone you most definitely recognized. Tall, wearing all black and the scars that (you noted before) were hard to forget.
"Wait, I remember you!" You said, pointing right at him with zero shame. The scars gave him away immediately. You already met him. At Giran’s. What was his name again?
"Fuck me...” He muttered, almost straining a muscle as he tried to look anywhere but at you.
“Sorry again for thinking you were into underage girls, by the way. My bad.”
If looks could kill, you'd be skinned alive.
His whole crew stared at him like he’d just confessed to something heinous, and from the murderous glare he gave you, it was clear he did not appreciate the reminder.
"How old do you think I am?" He asked, catching himself actually talking to you now. Well, it was the last thing he wanted. Still, it was progress. You were great at making people uncomfortable and he was no exception.
You tried to be diplomatic about it. To be nice for once.
"I don’t know… late twenties? Maybe thirty if you’ve had a really stressful life?"
That earned a few snickers from his crew. Definitely not from him.
"What the hell..."
You turned and realized there was someone else standing there. Someone you hadn't noticed until just now. Which was impressive, considering he looked like a ghost haunting this very supermarket. Pale, with messy bluish hair. Radiating a creepy, quiet energy that seemed more concerning than intimidating. Oh, and the hands. Can’t forget those. Fake hands strapped all over his body. Even his face was covered by one of those. It was unique, that's for sure.
"Oh, hi. Didn’t see you there." You shifted your attention to him. And of course, you tried not to stare at the hands, but it was hard not to.
What really caught you off guard, though, was the scent. Death. Rotting corpse. Formalin. Everything you were so used to over the years.
He just stared at you. Not blinking. Not moving. Just staring at you in an uncomfortable silence. Constantly scratching his neck like he was trying to take off his own skin. You weren't sure if he was contemplating murder or if he was just deeply socially awkward. Maybe both.
"You don’t talk much, do you?" You asked, trying to keep your voice calm. Non-threatening. Friendly, even. He looked like a trapped animal. Way too nervous. Fortunately for you, you knew how to deal with those. Even if most of your freaky pets were half-dead already.
The Weezer guy, sensing an opportunity, decided to chime in with a snarky remark.
"He’s just shy. Never talked to a girl before. Be gentle."
You squinted at him. Was he joking? Probably. Either way, you weren’t the type to judge. People often thought you were creepy just because of your little necromancy tricks. And you were a complete delight to have around, right? Creepy vibes didn’t make someone a bad person by default.
"That’s fine." You said, stepping a little closer and lightly patting the quiet guy’s shoulder.
He froze. Completely. Like a statue. Even the scratching paused. His eyes followed your touch, wide and red and terrified.
You realized that he was quite bony to the touch. Poor thing.
"You shouldn’t be picking on him." You started, chest puffed and tone full of that fake maturity. "Sure, he’s all scrawny and a bit creepy... but he’s your teammate, isn’t he? What would your boss say if he found out you were being assholes to one of your own? Hm? As a leader myself, I wouldn't let it slide."
Your little speech came out way more heartfelt than expected. In your head, you sounded wise and inspiring. In reality, you were digging your own grave with a plastic spoon. But once you started, it was hard to stop. Especially when a wave of giggles followed your every word like you were the funniest thing in the world right now.
Everyone was laughing.
Well, almost everyone.
The only one not joining in was Toga, and that was suspicious. She was all giggles when you first met her. Bubbly, bouncy Toga. But now she was just… silent.
"What’s up, Toga-chan?" You asked, still leaning comfortably against your new ghostly friend, the guy with too many hands and not enough social skills. "Wasn’t I supposed to meet your new boss or something? Where is he?"
You glanced around, expecting to spot someone obvious. Tall, buff and scary. The Big Bad Guy himself. Someone the TV warned you about.
But Toga didn’t answer.
And Dabi (Yeah, you remembered his name now) was laughing so hard he was almost choking.
You blinked. The others were staring.
At the guy you were leaning on, no less.
Still touching him.
Oh, fuck.
"You really do have a death wish."
Yeah, maybe you did.