Normal Day, Normal People
It’s late evening when Mio arrives home. She’s moved to a modern penthouse apartment in a high-rise building, perched comfortably above the city. The building itself is understated, no flashy signs or grandiose entrances. Just the sort of place someone who values privacy would choose. The lobby is quiet, with soft lighting and neutral decor, and the only sound as she enters is that of hero own steps.
She takes the private elevator up, leaning casually against the mirrored wall. Her workday had been long but productive: a missing person’s case solved, a potentially scandalous blackmail scheme thwarted (and privately documented for her own use), and a few obligatory media appearances that were all smiles and sweetness. She stifles a yawn, pulling out her phone to skim through her notifications. A few messages from sponsors, fan comments on her latest social media post, and one curt text reminding her about tomorrow’s PR shoot. She ignores the last one with a faint roll of her eyes.
The elevator dings softly as it reaches her floor, the doors sliding open to reveal her apartment. The space is as meticulously curated as her image: sleek, modern furniture with subtle pops of yellow to reflect her “brand,” wide floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city, and a distinct lack of clutter. Everything has its place, and nothing is left out of order. The kitchen gleams with unused appliances, the living room couch is perfectly fluffed, and the faint scent of expensive citrus candles lingers in the air.
Mio kicks off her heels just inside the door, flexing her toes as she strides across the polished wooden floor. She tosses her workbag onto the couch and heads straight for the fridge. Empty. Cooking isn’t something she bothers with now. Time is money, and she doesn’t waste either.
She checks her phone again, this time opening a secure app hidden behind a series of innocuous-looking folders. It brings up a list of names, each with a brief summary and a series of status markers. These are her projects—people she’s keeping tabs on, potential targets for manipulation, or individuals she’s already got leverage over. She skims through the list, updating a few notes here and there, her expression unreadable.
Later, Mio changes into something more comfortable, a loose yellow sweater and shorts, and curls up on the couch with a tablet. She starts scrolling through the day’s news, keeping an eye out for anything that might involve her. A few articles mention her briefly, praising her work on the missing person’s case. She smirks, enjoying the recognition but mentally noting how she might spin it further in the coming days.
As she flips through the channels on her wall-mounted TV, her phone buzzes with a message. Picking it up, she sees it’s from someone she’s been subtly blackmailing for weeks: another small-time hero who’d gotten a little too reckless during an investigation. Their message is desperate, pleading for her to leave them alone. Mio’s smirk widens as she types a carefully worded response, one that’s just sweet enough to maintain her facade while reminding them exactly who’s in control. All while keeping her identity hidden even to her target, of course.
Mio cut her blackmailing time short, noting the time.
She let out a soft, annoyed sigh and stood up, stretching her arms overhead before heading toward her bedroom. Her socks made no sound on the polished floor as she walked, the faint hum of the city outside her window fading into the background. She pushed the door open and froze for a moment as jagged edges of a portal began to form in the middle of the room. The sharp distortion of space glowed with a faint sickly blue light, and even now, being fully open its edges were uneven and flickering.
Unfazed, Mio stepped forward, brushing a strand of blonde and blue-tipped hair from her face while she grabbed her bag. The portal was just part of her routine now, and she treated it with the same indifference as she would an elevator door.
Without hesitation, she walked through, the warped sensation of stepping into a different space barely bothered her anymore.
When she emerged on the other side, the atmosphere was entirely different. Unlike her penthouse, this space felt more personal, more lived-in. The decor was still clearly hers—warm yellows, soft whites, and playful patterns that matched her preferences—but there was an underlying sense of shared territory here. She paused in the foyer, slipping out of her shoes and into a pair of slippers already laid out for her. They were bright yellow, with little bows on top, and fit her perfectly.
The safehouse.
Moving deeper into the house, she immediately spotted the kitchen. It was open to the rest of the living area, and the scent of something delicious filled the air. Sandatsu stood at the stove, his massive frame dominating the space. Him wearing normal clothes was a rare sight. A faded t-shirt covered by a simple apron, paired with grey sweatpants. His hair was tied up carelessly. Even his slippers were fitting for his image, plain black and worn down, with a faded print of skulls.
Mio raised an eyebrow as she walked further in, heading toward her work desk. "Wow," she said flatly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Look at you. Didn’t know you could dress like an actual human being. Thought your costume was surgically attached." She set her bag down on the desk and started sorting through some papers, not even glancing at him.
Sandatsu didn’t turn around, stirring whatever was in the pan with a wooden spoon. "Welcome back." he straight up ignored her jab, his voice as rough and deep as always.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Mio said as she powered on her computer. The multiple monitors lit up, casting a soft glow over the desk that was cluttered with gadgets, sticky notes, and random tools. Everything was high-end, top-tier equipment she’d either bought or built herself. She leaned back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, and began typing away.
"So," Sandatsu said after a moment, his tone lighter now. "How was work? Solve some big mystery? Catch a bad guy? Or just spend the day trying to look cute for the cameras?"
"Work was fine," Mio replied, her attention still on the screens. She didn’t look up.. "Another missing person’s case, solved again by yours truly. And yes, I looked amazing while doing it, thanks for noticing."
"Shocking," Sandatsu said dryly, flipping something in the pan with a quick motion. "You’re like a goddamn black hole for compliments. Suck them all up and still manage to be unbearable."
Mio rolled her eyes but didn’t respond immediately, focusing on the data streaming across her monitors. After a beat, she said, "You’re just jealous because I actually know how to talk to people without scaring the hell out of them."
Sandatsu snorted. "Please. I scare people on purpose. It’s efficient."
As Mio typed away, she paused for a moment, glancing over her shoulder at him. "What are you even making? It actually smells edible."
"You will see," Sandatsu said, as if it were obvious. "I’m trying to see if good enough food can shave off at least a bit of your bitchiness."
"Bold of you to assume I won’t complain anyway."
"Bold of you to assume I care."
The dinner table was set with unexpected refinement. Sandatsu had prepared a rich beef wellington, the golden pastry glistening under the warm lights of the kitchen. Plates were arranged neatly, with roasted vegetables and a deep red wine sauce drizzled with precise strokes. It was almost unsettling how much effort had gone into the meal, considering who had made it.
Mio walked over to the fridge, tugging open the door without much thought. The cold air rushed out, revealing an eclectic collection of items. There were neatly stacked containers of leftovers, bottles of various drinks, blood bags tucked into a corner, and vials filled with strange, glowing liquids. It was the kind of assortment no ordinary household would have, but to her, it was as normal as the slippers by the foyer.
She grabbed a can of sparkling water, cracked it open, and downed most of it in one go before letting out a loud, exaggerated "Ahhh."
Sandatsu, already seated at the table and cutting into his meal with casual precision, glanced up. His hair shifted slightly as he turned his head, the blue streak catching the light. "You look like a middle-aged man coming home from his nine-to-five,"
Mio, still holding the can, shot him a glare over her shoulder. "Shut up, mutt," she snapped, her tone sharp but not particularly angry. She kicked the fridge door shut with her heel before walking to the table and sitting down.
Sandatsu smirked, his scarred face twitching in a way that made it hard to tell if it was genuine or mocking. "Just calling it like I see it."
Mio ignored him, focusing on her plate instead. The first bite surprised her, though she didn’t show it outwardly. She hated to admit it, but Sandatsu could cook. Not that she’d ever give him the satisfaction of hearing it. Good thing he hadn't stolen any mind reading quirks yet.
The silence stretched for a while, broken only by the clink of silverware and the occasional scrape of a chair as Mio shifted in her seat. She was the first to speak again. "Ah, by the way, I’m staying the night."
Sandatsu raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t stop eating. "Don’t you have something to do tomorrow?"
"Nope," Mio replied, popping another piece of beef into her mouth and chewing slowly. "It’s my day off. I had something scheduled at Ookami’s company, but I decided to let her deal with it. She can handle it."
Sandatsu leaned back slightly, his frame making the chair creak. "Fine," he said after a moment. He gestured lazily with one hand, and somewhere in the house, the faint sound of running water began. "I’ll get the bath ready for you."
Mio glanced toward the hallway leading to the bathroom, raising an eyebrow. "Lazy. You didn’t even move."
"Efficiency," he shot back, his voice calm but smug.
Mio rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, taking another sip of her drink. The silence returned for a moment before Sandatsu broke it. "How are things with the Commission?"
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and tilted her head in thought. "Predictable," she said finally. "They’re rebuilding. It’s slow, but they’re making progress. They’ve already reached out to me, asking if I’d be an ‘advisor.’" She made air quotes with her fingers
Sandatsu raised an eyebrow. "Advisor? Because of your experience with the old Commission?"
"Exactly. They want insight, probably think I’ll help them avoid making the same mistakes as before. "after saying this she stared at him for a second making it obvious what she was referring to "It’s cute, really, how they think they’re being subtle about it."
"And what are you going to do? Help them?"
Mio shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on how much they’re willing to pay. Or how useful they might be later."
Sandatsu stood at the sink, washing the last of the dishes. The apron he wore was basic, black with some grease stains, an odd contrast to the rest of him, wild and crude, which made him look strangely domestic.
Mio was leaning back in her chair. She tapped her nails against the table, watching him.
"You hear about Conman?"
Sandatsu grunted, not even bothering to look back at her. "Yeah. Somebody finally did him in right?"
"The police are losing their shit over it," Mio continued, swirling the last sip of her drink in the can before setting it down. "And the Commission’s sniffing around too. They’re probably going to ask me to help with the investigation."
He shrugged. "So what? They’ll waste their time chasing shadows while the real killers clean up. How very cliché."
Mio smirked, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. "You’re not even a little curious who did it?"
"Not really," Sandatsu replied, his deep voice flat. "Conman was a cockroach. Whoever stomped him did us all a favor."
"Why so glad he died?"
"Hating is free."
She rolled her eyes and stood, stretching again before heading toward the living room, walking over to her desk to grab her phone.
By the time she returned to the kitchen, he was taking off the apron and folding it neatly. She stopped in her tracks, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at his t-shirt. "Ugh, I thought you threw that thing away. It’s disgusting."
The old print of a tapir that read "The Cum Beast" stretched over his chest was in full display.
Sandatsu smirked, his scars pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Keep whining, and next time I’ll greet you in nothing but a naked apron."
She made a gagging noise, tossing the empty can at him before heaidng toward the bathroom, bringing her bag with her. "You’re fucking gross, you know that?"
He caught the can mid air and tossed it into the trash right before walking out of the kitchen.
Sandatsu, now lying sprawled on the carpet in the living room, raised his voice. "By the way, did you check out that thing I asked about?"
"Yeah," Mio replied, the sound of running water muffling her voice slightly. "He’s in Karaguri Prison. What the hell do you even want with him?"
"None of your business," Sandatsu replied, grinning as he laced his hands behind his head. "But thanks for confirming. I’ll probably swing by there soon."
Mio snorted loudly. "Have fun with that shitshow."
"By the way, Karma wanted to know if I’m coming to the meeting with Midas."
"You’re seeing him again soon, right?"
"Tomorrow night," Sandatsu confirmed. "She’s probably hoping you’ll show up to keep her from dying of boredom."
"She’s got a point, I'd want to die too if I had to listen to meeting after meeting of old decrepit villains." Mio said, stepping out of the bathroom briefly to grab something from her bag. She leaned against the doorframe, her wet hair starting to curl at the tips. "Still, you’ve got the subtlety of a fucking wrecking ball. Midas is probably the only reason half the other groups haven’t started gunning for us yet. So better be thankful."
"Yeah yeah, whatever. You coming or not?"
"I’ll think about it," she replied, disappearing back into the bathroom.
"Did you ever sort out that thing with the clone guy?" Mio asked at one point, her voice echoing slightly.
"Kinda," Sandatsu replied. "I think I found one of his former contacts. He didn't want to talk so I gave him a choice: jump off a bridge or let me break every bone in his body. He picked the bridge. Ah but don't worry he's alive. Drekus is keeping an eye on him so next time you drop by take a look in his head. I made sure he could still move from the neck up."
"Wow. So merciful," Mio deadpanned.
"You’re one to talk, Miss Psychic Detective," Sandatsu shot back. "How many people have you blackmailed this month?"
"Only the ones who (by her standards) deserved it," she replied sweetly. "And they paid up. Unlike you, I know how to handle my shit without leaving a trail of bodies behind."
"Good for you," Sandatsu muttered, closing his eyes. "One day, you’ll make a great role model for all the little kids out there. Emphasis on little."
"Go die," Mio said.
She stretched her arms lazily, her short stature making it easy to completely submerge in the oversized bath. The water was perfectly warm, the kind of heat that coaxed tension from her body. Still, her annoyance didn’t fade, even in her relaxed state. If anything, it deepened when she heard Sandatsu’s voice drift in from the living room.
"Next time, we should hang out at your place," he said
"Why?" Mio called back, her voice echoing slightly against the bathroom tiles.
"Because any proper villain needs to stare at the city skyline at night from a penthouse," he replied, his deep voice carrying a mock grandeur that made her roll her eyes.
"You're such an idiot," she muttered, loud enough for him to hear. She leaned against the tub’s edge, wet hair sticking to her back and shoulders. "Having you over there is dangerous. It’s an apartment, you moron. The last time you were there, the neighbors probably almost heard us."
"Ugh, who cares." Sandatsu answered, now lying sprawled on the hallway with one arm propped behind his head.
There was a brief silence before Sandatsu changed the subject. "Anyway, I’ve got a few spare duplicates from the quirks I’ve been working with. You want any?"
Mio blinked, her frown replaced with mild confusion. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked, sitting up slightly.
"It’d be fine," he said, as if he were offering her a cup of sugar. "Just a few replicas of Quick Mend. Could do you some good."
Her scoff echoed through the bathroom. "In case you forgot, I’m not supposed to be in situations where I’d get hurt in the first place."
"Sounds like you’re just scared of a little surgery," Sandatsu teased.
"Scared?" she repeated. She stood up, grabbing a towel to wrap around herself before stepping out of the tub. "Please. I don’t need your Frankenstein experiments messing with my perfect body."
"That so?" Sandatsu muttered to himself, grinning as he sat up and stretched. "Are you really sure?"
The bathroom door slid open, and Mio stepped out of the bath area, her towel tucked securely around her short but curvaceous frame. The cool air from the sink area hit her wet skin, making her shiver slightly. She muttered to herself, running a hand through her damp blonde hair.
She wrung out her hair as she glared at him. "Yes, I’m sure. Not that someone who looks like a fucking patched-up monster would understand."
Sandatsu leaned back on his hands, unbothered by her jab. "Whatever you say. By the way, you done hogging the bathroom? I need a shower." then he stood, leaning against the hallway wall.
"Go ahead," she said, plopping down on a bench in front of the mirror, tall enough for her to see her reflection.
He glanced down at her as she fumbled with the towel, rolling his eyes.
“What now?” he asked.
“I forgot my hair dryer,” Mio muttered, glaring up at him.
Sandatsu sighed, pushing off the wall. “Useless,” he said flatly.
“Shut up, troglodyte,” Mio snapped, but before she could say anything else, he raised a hand. A faint distortion swirled around his palm as he activated 「Magnum Opus」. In a matter of seconds, a hair dryer materialized in his hand. Its faded, grayish colors made it look old and worn, but when he handed it to her, it was warm and functional.
She stared at it for a moment before snatching it out of his hand. “It’s ugly,” she said, plugging it in at the sink and turning it on.
“Works, doesn’t it?” Sandatsu replied, stepping past her into the bath area. He closed the bathroom door behind him and the sound of running water soon followed.
Mio didn’t respond, focused on drying her hair. The sound of the dryer filled the small space as she brushed through her damp locks. In the mirror, she caught a glimpse of Sandatsu tossing his infamous tapir t-shirt onto the floor before stepping into the bath. Her eyes narrowed as a smug grin spread across her face.
Finally.
Leaving the dryer running, she grabbed a pair of scissors from a nearby drawer. She picked up the t-shirt like it was something vile, holding it between two fingers as if it might bite her. Without hesitation, she began cutting it into uneven strips.
“Good riddance,” she muttered, stuffing the shredded remains into the trash bin.
“What’s that?” Sandatsu called from the bath
“Nothing,” Mio replied, her tone much more relaxed now. She turned off the dryer, flipping her hair over her shoulder and smirking to herself.
As she cleaned up, the conversation shifted. “By the way,” she said, leaning casually against the counter, “there’s talk among the heroes that Endeavor might take the Kyoto situation into his own hands.”
“Yeah?” Sandatsu’s voice was unconcerned, the sound of water splashing faint in the background.
“You should be quick about the Karaguri prison thing,” she continued, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’ve got time,” Sandatsu replied, his tone as casual as ever. “Enough to swing by Tokyo and give Endeavor a proper welcome before he gets here.”
She shook her head, muttering under her breath. “Whatever."
"By the way, did you get a car yet?”
"Nope,” Mio said, smirking. “But I’m on it. I've been thinking about hiring a driver too.”
“A driver?” Sandatsu asked. "Aww look at you, pretending to be someone important."
"Shut up, slugbrain." she snapped. "They’re useful for alibis. I can always tweak their memories or mess with the car’s tracking data if I need to.”
“You’re really something else,” Sandatsu muttered, though there was a hint of approval in his voice.
By the time he stepped out of the bath, his long hair damp and sticking to his broad shoulders, Mio was back at the livingroom, pretending to be uninterested. He looked around briefly, his sharp eyes scanning the area.
“Where’s my shirt?” he asked, his tone nonchalant.
Mio froze for a split second before answering. “How the hell should I know?”
He didn’t press the issue, grabbing a towel and slinging it over his shoulders. Mio glanced at him from the corner of her eye, irritated that he didn’t seem the least bit bothered.
“Ugh...” she muttered under her breath, clenching her fists.
Sandatsu smiled, fully aware of what she'd done, but still enjoying denying her the satisfaction of his attention. Besides, he could make another t-shirt like that.
She sat cross-legged in her chair. One hand lazily scrolled through files on the screen, while the other carefully applied a fresh coat of pastel yellow nail polish. The smell of acetone faintly mingled with the subtle metallic tang lingering from Sandatsu’s work.
Across the room, he sat cross-legged on the carpet. His hair, still damp from the bath, hung loose down his back. Before him was a small tray scattered with ingredients and tools as he meticulously prepared more of his signature black pills. The faintly glowing blue streak running through each one matched the color of the streak in his hair.
Mio glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a smirk tugging at her lips. “So, Broadband? What do you think?”.
Sandatsu didn’t look up. “That new guy over at Shiketsu?” he asked. “Eh, maybe. But I need to see how far I can push「Static Field」 first. If I can ramp it up, I won’t need whatever scraps he’s got.”
“Picky,” She leaned back in her chair. “What about one of the Atsushis?”
Sandatsu’s lips curled into a slight sneer as he packed another pill. “Pass. Too many dragons in this city already. Plus they got nothing new.”
Mio clicked her tongue, scrolling further through her files. “Fine, fine. What about that bike guy’s brother? You already offed the first one. Might as well complete the set.”
“Oh yeah, him,” Sandatsu said, pausing for a moment. “Nah. He’s part of the Night Parade. Too much hassle to ask them to give him to me.”
Mio snorted, shaking her head. She tapped her screen and leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “Alright, what about her? That fire bitch with the sword. The one from the water plant. I heard she kicked your ass again recently.”
Sandatsu’s hands stopped for a fraction of a second, his expression darkening just enough for Mio to notice. Her eyes lit up with a mix of delight and malice.
“Struck a nerve, did I?” she cooed, her voice sickly sweet. She let out a mocking laugh. “Aw, poor Sandatsu. Did the big scary villain get embarrassed by a girl with a flaming toothpick? Is the trauma too much for your little brain?”
His gaze flicked up to meet hers, sharp and cold, before he chuckled dryly and went back to work. “Maybe,” he said, his tone even. “Keep an eye on her for me.”
The brief flicker of irritation was gone, and it made Mio bristle. She wanted to dig deeper, to see if she could peel back the layers of his unshakable composure. But once again, he slipped her grasp. Still, that face he made was, as brief as it was, probably among her top 10 times she actually managed to get under his skin.
“Tch,” she muttered, turning back to her screen.
Sandatsu finished packing the last pill and stood, his broad shoulders almost brushing the low-hanging light above him. “Stealing quirks from villains tied to bigger groups is always a pain,” he said, walking toward the kitchen. “All this scheming and deals and power-grabbing... No one knows how to live, they just obsess over playing the long game.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” Mio said, blowing gently on her nails to dry them.
“I’m still giving it a chance,” Sandatsu replied, his voice calm as he filled a teapot with water. “Getting lessons from Desolator. Dealing with the Night Parade. Trying this sort of formal villainy thing.”
Mio didn’t respond, her attention flickering between her screen and the tea he was making. He brought a cup over to Mio, setting it on the desk beside her without a word.
The light hum of the computer filled the room, accompanied by the occasional sharp clack of Mio’s nails against the mouse. She leaned back in her chair
Sandatsu remained standing beside her, his long shadow cutting across the desk.
“Next file,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it,” Mio replied dismissively, scrolling through directories at her own pace. Her painted nails clicked against the mouse as she pulled up another file, her attention split between the screen and the still-drying polish on her other hand.
Sandatsu’s eyes narrowed as something caught his attention. Before Mio could even react, his large hand clamped over hers, dwarfing it completely. He effortlessly moved the mouse, clicking on a folder she had clearly been avoiding.
“Hey! Hey What the fuck you dumbass?!” Mio barked, trying to yank her hand free. His grip didn’t budge.
“Stop whining,” Sandatsu said flatly, his eyes glued to the screen.
“Let go already you overgrown ape!” she snapped, her voice rising. Her free hand flailed uselessly at his arm, which didn’t so much as twitch under her blows.
Sandatsu ignored her completely, still looking for the folder that caught his eye. But Mio wasn’t helpless, not when it came to this, anyway. He was slow, not used to computers, so Mio had time to counter before he reached clicked on the directory where the folder was. She used her quirk. The cursor froze for a split second, and then the folder simply disappeared, erased from existence before Sandatsu could open it.
The screen blinked back to the main directory as if nothing had ever been there.
“Seriously, let go, you ass!” she shouted, though her voice cracked slightly with frustration rather than actual distress.
"Ah, yeah." Sandatsu finally released her hand and leaned back, his expression unreadable. “Huh,” he muttered, his voice low.
Mio glared at him, her chest rising and falling as she fumed. “Satisfied, asshole?” she snarled, flexing her fingers as if his grip had actually hurt, though they both knew it hadn’t.
He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, then leaned back and returned to his spot on the floor. “Right,” he said flatly, as though he didn’t believe her but couldn’t be bothered to press the issue. Too bad. For a second it looked like he had found something juicy to tease her about.
Mio exhaled silently, leaning back in her chair and running a hand through her hair.
Her pulse was still racing, but she didn’t let it show. She picked up her drink and took a long sip, her fingers tightening around the glass as she mulled over how close he’d come to seeing it.
The folder had been a mess of hastily assembled files—lists of quirks related to soundproofing and muffling, formatted in the same way she laid out the quirks she suggested for him to harvest. There were also clunky diagrams of her apartment building, complete with notes about the neighbors and the thin walls. It wasn’t hard to piece together her motives, but Sandatsu had no way of knowing now.
“You’re so fucking nosy,” Mio muttered, breaking the silence.
"You of all people shouldn't preach about privacy."
Mio rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, instead pulling up a new file to keep him from asking more questions. Her foot bounced nervously under the desk as she pretended to focus on something else, but her mind was still racing.
The soft clinking of plates and the smell of something savory wafting from the kitchen filled the room, accompanied by the occasional buzz from Mio’s phone as she scrolled lazily through her feed. She sat at the small dining table, one leg tucked up on the chair, her phone propped against her knee. Her oversized t-shirt, stolen from him of course, draped low on her frame
Sandatsu stood by the stove, his back turned to her.
“Surprising to see you so active early,” Mio commented without looking up. "I expected you to sleep in like the braindead sloth you are."
“Really?” Sandatsu replied flatly, setting two plates on the table.
She glanced at him over her phone, arching an eyebrow. “It’s been a while since you slept, hasn’t it? Like, properly slept.”
Sandatsu sat across from her, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. I don’t really bother unless I feel like it.”
Mio wrinkled her nose. “Creepy,” she muttered, returning her attention to her screen.
Sandatsu didn’t respond, digging into his food without much ceremony. Mio scrolled through the latest news, idly picking at her plate. After a moment, she let out an exaggerated groan, tossing her phone onto the table.
“Ugh. I’ve got a stupid public event tomorrow,” she complained, stabbing a piece of egg with her fork. “Some PR shit. Meet-and-greet with fans, maybe an autograph line.”
“Sounds fun,” Sandatsu said, not looking up.
“Shove it,” Mio snapped, though there was no real heat in her voice. “I didn’t sign up for this hero crap to babysit a bunch of starry-eyed idiots. Do me a favor and just kill a bunch of people so they cancel it.”
"Really?"
"Of course not you idiot."
Sandatsu smirked faintly. “Now that you’re a pro hero, maybe you’ll even get interns. Some bright-eyed Shiketsu kids running after you with notebooks.”
Mio froze, her face twisting in disgust. “Don’t even joke about that,” she said, pointing her fork at him like it was a weapon. “If I wanted to deal with whiny teenagers, I’d go teach or something.”
“Could be worse,” Sandatsu replied, taking another bite. “You could’ve been stuck in a call center instead of pretending to save people for a living.”
She glared at him, but the corner of her mouth twitched in reluctant amusement. “Whatever. I already want a vacation.”
“Where to?”
Mio sighed, dropping her fork onto her plate. “I don’t know. Hawaii, maybe? Somewhere flashy. Somewhere I don’t have to look at another ugly building for a while.”
Sandatsu shrugged, completely nonchalant. “Sure. We can go to Hawaii on your next day off.”
Mio blinked, caught off guard by the casual response. For a fleeting moment, she looked almost pleased, her lips curving into a slight smile before she wiped it away. “Fine,” she said, leaning back in her chair.
"Also, I want to go shopping tomorrow after work," she said, her tone commanding.
Sandatsu raised an eyebrow, grabbing a towel to dry his hair. "And?"
"And you better get that quirk," she continued, her smugness returning in full force. "So you can carry my bags."
“「Everyman」,” Sandatsu said thoughtfully, leaning his elbows on the table. “I’ll ask Karma to grab a sample. If she gets it quick I might even finish it today.”
“Finally. You've been procrastinating on that since forever.”
“Plans for today?” he asked, ignoring her.
Mio shrugged, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. “Not really. Probably hang around here until you leave. I’ll stay back at my place after.”
The morning dragged on, with Mio perched on the armrest of the couch, legs crossed and swinging idly as she scrolled on her phone. Her voice, sharp and relentless, filled the room as she rattled off a laundry list of things she wanted done—things she wanted to do, people she wanted Sandatsu to deal with, and, most importantly, the things she’d already decided he should prioritize for her sake.
Sandatsu, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, didn’t respond. His long fingers toyed with the knobs of a battered old radio, his scarred face creased with mild concentration. The faint hum of static filled the air as he twisted the dial, his body language giving away just how little attention he was paying to Mio’s tirade.
“Are you even listening to me?” she snapped, glaring down at him. Her phone hit the couch cushion with a soft thud as she leaned forward.
The dishes, meanwhile, clattered faintly in the kitchen sink, bobbing and rinsing themselves under the guidance of Sandatsu’s psychokinesis. Plates scraped clean, glasses sparkled, and silverware clinked, all without him lifting a finger.
“I said—what the hell are you even doing?” Mio barked, her irritation bubbling over.
“I already told you,” Sandatsu replied, his deep voice calm but tinged with amusement. He didn’t bother looking up, his focus still on the radio. “I’m practicing with 「Static Field」. If I can get this signal distortion right, I might not have to bother with Broadband later.”
Mio rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out of her head. “Oh, great. More of your stupid ‘Look at all the quirks I have and all the things I can do' bullshit. Why don’t you just go kill him already and save us both the headache? We both know you'll want to steal it later anyway.”
Sandatsu’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but he didn’t bother answering.
“Ugh, you’re impossible.” Mio pushed herself off the couch and walked toward the bedroom.
Inside the bedroom, Mio yanked open the drawer where she kept her clothes, only to freeze.
“What the—” she muttered, staring down at the contents.
Or rather, the lack thereof.
Her usual clothes—her shirts, t-shirts, and the like—were nowhere to be found. Instead, sitting neatly folded was a single t-shirt. It was identical to the one she’d cut up the day before, the same stupid cartoon tapir.
Her hands clenched into fists, her nails biting into her palms. “That goddamn—”
She stormed back out into the living room, the shirt clutched in her hand like a weapon.
“You!” she shouted, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.
He looked up from the radio, his expression calm but his eyes gleaming with barely-contained laughter. His hair framed his face like the mane of some smug, overgrown melanistic lion.
“What’s up?” he asked casually, as though he didn’t already know.
“Don’t you ‘what’s up’ me, you oversized jackass!” Mio snapped, holding the shirt up like it was evidence at a crime scene. “Where are my clothes?”
Sandatsu leaned back slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he looked up at her. “What are you talking about? I haven’t touched your stuff.”
“Bullshit!” Mio yelled, stomping her foot for emphasis. Her face was flushed with equal parts anger and embarrassment. “I know this is you, you bastard! What did you do with my clothes?”
Sandatsu shrugged, his smile widening. “Maybe they ran away.”
Mio’s eye twitched. “You think this is funny? You’re such an immature, pathetic piece of—”
“Relax,” Sandatsu interrupted, holding up a hand. “You’ve got a shirt right there. Problem solved.”
She glared at him, her teeth grinding audibly.
"Fine, fine. They're underneath the floorboards, on the hallway."
Mio blinked, momentarily thrown off. “What the fuck do you mean, under the floorboards?”
“Exactly what I said,” he replied, finally meeting her gaze. His dark eyes gleamed with a lazy sort of amusement, and the faint scars on his face shifted as his lips twitched into a smirk. “Go look. They’re all there.”
Mio stared at him, her hands clenched at her sides, before letting out an exasperated growl. “If you’re screwing with me—”
Sandatsu raised a hand, cutting her off. “Just check. You’ll see.”
“This isn’t over,” she hissed, jabbing a finger in his direction before storming back to the bedroom.
With a string of muttered curses, Mio stomped off toward the hallway again. As soon as she was out of sight, Sandatsu let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Too easy,” he muttered, turning back to his radio.
She dropped to her knees beside the bed and pressed her hands to the floor, her sharp nails scraping lightly against the wood as she searched for any sign of a loose board.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath, her irritation mounting.
After a minute of fumbling, her fingers found the faint outline of a panel that didn’t quite match the others. With a grunt, she pried it up, revealing a shallow space underneath. Sure enough, there were her clothes, folded neatly in a pile.
Mio yanked them out with a triumphant growl, her annoyance only partially soothed by the discovery. She tossed the floorboard aside and began sorting through the pile, muttering insults about Sandatsu under her breath.
“Fucking man-child,” she hissed. “Thinks he’s so damn clever—”
Her voice trailed off as she unfolded one of her tops.
There, sewn onto the fabric with meticulous care, was a patch.
The same stupid tapir from the shirt she’d cut up the day before.
Mio’s hands froze, her brain short-circuiting for a moment as she processed what she was seeing. Then, slowly, she picked up another piece of clothing.
Another tapir.
And another.
Every single item in the pile had one of those obnoxious little bastards stitched onto it.
Her mind flashed back to the night before. She fell asleep before he did. He hadn’t slept. He’d spent the entire night doing...this.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric, her knuckles going white as her jaw clenched.