Broken Mirror
Rain fell in sheets upon the streets of Kyoto. Streets became rivers and cars cosplayed as boats, leaving massive wakes as they trundled forward. On days like today, men sought shelter wherever they could. And today, in a nondescript brown box of a large WcDonald’s, sat a young student waiting on his order.
Christopher sat at a small table near the back of WcDonald’s. It was just after school so the WcDonald’s was practically empty, save for Christopher and a handful of other occupants.
Those occupants included the Korean Clique for some reason. Hailey was beet red and hiding her face from her fellows. Maxine was trying to get a picture of Hailey’s face chortling about sending it to Hifumi while Faith’s laughter left her near tears and Edith was… conspicuously absent. Did she have classroom duty today? Was the clique capable of traveling separately? Was that why they were here? Waiting for Edith to finish her duty so the Hivelink could be reestablished? Were they in pain every moment they were separated? Christopher looked away. He’d gone this far into the year without drawing their attention, he didn’t want to risk that monumental achievement for the sake of curiosity.
Christopher wanted to avoid looking at the clique but there really wasn’t much for him to look at. The windows were a curtain of rain with the hazy outlines of cars beyond. He sighed, settling on studying the other occupants inside the restaurant.
A pair of boys from a different school were sitting at the booth across the aisle from the clique. The boys were clearly eyeing the group with interest. One of them was conventionally handsome, blonde hair, blue eyes, like Inigo if he was half a meter taller. He seemed to have convinced himself he was the reason Hailey was blushing. That Hailey kept smiling like a moron every time she looked at her phone, and not when she glared his direction, was lost on him. The other boy had… a microphone for a head.
‘How does he eat?’ Christopher wondered idly.
The two separate groups of teens were at least partially to blame for how dead WcDonald’s was today. In order to get to the counter after entering you’d either have to walk between 3 tittering girls and two boys who looked like they were about to make asses out of themselves at any moment. Or meekly walk to the next aisle and take a long way around. THEN have to accept the risk of overhearing teenagers talk. Most people chose to endure the rain rather than accept such a dire risk. Though that next aisle held a... sight all its own.
A disturbingly attractive OL in her early 20s sat alone at a booth next to the boys. That the boys somehow missed this woman and focused on the clique made Christopher question their eyesight. She was sipping tea while scrolling on her phone. She was either taking a late lunch or a long one. She did an admirable job of exuding “confident successful adult” while simultaneously looking like she could drop dead at any moment.
The last occupant, who wasn’t an employee at the WcDonald’s anyway, was an old man standing at the counter facing away from Christopher. He was on a phone placing what seemed to be an extremely lengthy order to the increasingly worried staff member. Christopher was only catching every third word but the old man was asking “are you serious?” Over the phone quite a bit. Followed by at least one, “you better hope you die young.”
Behind the counter emerged a petite young woman with the features of a monkey, more specifically a human-sized macaque. The red WcDonald’s uniform had been modified to let her tail roam freely. In her hands she held a tray of two burgers and two orders of fries. Her tail was wrapped around a large soda, which elicited stares from the Clique and the OL. The boys were too distracted looking at the Clique to notice the bouncy young woman bring Christopher his food.
“Here you go Cain-san!” The woman happily announced as she plopped the food and drink in front of Christopher.
“Thanks.” Christopher muttered. Had he really been coming here often enough for her to learn his name? The girl smiled, the almost too toothy grin, and bounced back towards the counter. Leaving Christopher alone with what, two months ago, would’ve been a torturous amount of food. Now? Now Christopher tore into the first cheeseburger without looking up.
A couple months ago, he had dreamed of a WcDonald’s Ice Cream Dinner before dad finally finished moving to Japan. Now? He stopped here every day he didn’t work out with Kaylee. It was ridiculous, unhealthy and was going to make him a diabetic by 30. But he needed the food. Two months ago Christopher would’ve not felt hungry after eating half a bento. Now? Now he was always hungry. Forget 2000 calories a day, he had to at least be at 3000, but he wasn’t counting anymore. He just needed to eat.
Christopher lay the first cheeseburger wrapper to the side as he started on his other. At first he’d only been hungry after he’d worked out with Kaylee. He’d burned a lot of energy during the workouts, made sense he’d be hungry. Then… one day it’s like a dam broke. It was like his body was trying to make up for all those skipped meals over the years and by God it was catching up. Dad was just happy his son was finally eating.
Dad didn’t care about the overeating. Christopher was gaining weight “right” according to him. Christopher wasn’t sure what that meant, but he had to admit it shocked him that his belly hadn’t grown with all this food. He wasn’t exercising THAT much. As much as he was downing a day there should be some fat, but there just wasn’t. Maybe he just had a miraculous metabolism and never knew it.
Christopher flinched when he tapped his foot as he began to tear through the french fries. His foot hurt like Hell, had all day. He tried to wiggle his toes, they didn’t move. He sighed. He needed a new pair. AGAIN. This would be the second new pair of shoes this month! What the Hell was going on?
“Did I say you could speak to me?” A haughty, princessy voice cut into Christopher as he began to drown himself in his soda. Christopher looked up from his cheeseburger massacre to behold the pretty teenage boy standing over the Clique’s booth. His microphone headed friend loomed bside him.
Christopher frowned at the scene. Then looked at the three members of the Clique present. Then back to the pair of boys. Wondered if he’d have to save the boys. Realized he didn’t care about the boys. Then returned to his soda.
“C’mon, just ONE song.” The handsome boy held up his hands in a pleading gesture. “There’s a karaoke like a block away, my treat.”
“좆 좀 드세요~~ ”Hailey responded, a smile plastered on her face and her tone completely neutral.
“… huh?” The boy blinked rapidly.
“She said ‘no.’” Faith helpfully translated. Though her voice was nowhere near as confident as Hailey’s. Her eyes kept returning to the microphone headed boy, who was standing right next to her. Just close enough to be uncomfortable.
“So you speak another language!” The boy crouched on his heels. “That’s sexy~.”
“Get the fuck away from her!” Maxine interrupted, her ire was directed at the microphone-headed teen, who had been surreptitiously approaching Faith, centimeter by centimeter.
Faith looked like she was on the verge of tears. Maxine was leaned forward as if she was about to rip microphone head’s throat out with her teeth. Hailey was half standing, staring down the pretty boy.
“C’mon, don’t be like that.” The pretty boy chided, his eyes beginning to glimmer with a malice Christopher wouldn’t have guessed at.
Christopher stood despite himself. Hailey’s eyes met Christopher’s as he stood. She was… worried. She was right to be. Though he hadn’t said a word, microphonehead’s body language screamed aggression and confidence. He was used to what he and his friend were doing. Christopher wasn’t interested in finding out whatever ‘that’ was. Without thinking, Christopher copied Hailey’s quirk and--
“Ahem.” The voice of an old man, cut through the tension like a knife.
The boys, the clique and Christopher turned to look at the old man, holding two bags filled to bursting with food. The old man smiled at the pair of teenagers standing in the middle of the aisle. He had white hair, pale blue eyes and a thin mustache. Christopher’s eyes froze on that face. He knew that face.
“You’re in my way.” Desolator told the boys. The boys hesitated a second. Microphonehead took two steps back before catching himself. He shook his head in disbelief and began to square his shoulders against Desolator a provocation and an amateurish one at that. The pretty boy stood a little to the side, but still in his way. The boy was still smiling, but the smile was strained.
Desolator frowned, annoyed that the two boys were still standing in the aisle. Really! Standing in the middle of an aisle which was the most expedient route to the exit like this! Did they expect him to go meekly around their simmering altercation? No, no-one would be THAT rude. They just didn’t realize how rude they were being. That must be it!
“You’re in the middle of the aisle.” Desolator clarified, he kept Sam’s smile but it wasn’t touching his eyes. “Move.”
The boys didn’t immediately respond. Desolator’s ear perked as a familiar sound drifted from behind the counter. It was the sound of a phone being dialed. Likely the chipper monkey girl was dialing 110. This just turned into a timed exercise. Weighting his options, Desolator decided pushing was the most expedient course of action.
Desolator stepped forward. Microphonehead matched his step, posture oozing indignation and bravado, his chest was even thrust forward as if he expected Desolator to bump against him like some drunk college boy.
Desolator’s steel foot lashed out without hesitation. The tip of a steel prosthetic slammed into the boy’s testicles like a lead pipe. The microphone let out a high pitched squeal as he fell to his knees. There was whimpering for just a moment, then the squeal got louder, painfully loud, the glass windows started to tremble.
The girls that the two boys been accosting grabbed their ears in unison. One of them was crying. High pitched noises tended to be rough on the young. Even microphonehead’s friend was covering his ears, bitching about not getting a warning.
Desolator flinched as sonic pain washed over him. It almost made him drop the bags. Almost. More than pain, Desolator felt annoyed. Bastard was going to make his tinnitus act up! With his good foot, Desolator kicked microphonehead where his chin should’ve been, at the very base of the vertical microphone. The microphone snapped backwards with a final screech. Then, the boy, microphone and all, hit the ground and all was silent.
Desolator stood over the unconscious microphonehead. He resisted the instinct to grab his gun. He was just a boy. A rude boy, but a burst testicle was punishment enough for rudeness. Desolator glanced at the pretty boy. The boy was staring at his partner in disbelief. He seemed to be shocked that anyone could fight through the pain of his friend’s screech long enough to strike him. Desolator’s eyes narrowed.
“Move.”
The pretty boy faltered.
“The police are on their way!” The monkey girl shouted from the back.
The pretty boy dashed for the exit at that. Not even sparing a glance for his unconscious partner. Desolator sighed. Kids these days, they had no concept of loyalty. Ignoring the beginnings of a thanks forming on one of the girl’s lips Desolator made his exit.
“Sir!” The monkey girl called. Desolator ignored her. He didn’t want to kill cops today. He came to the still closing door. The young man was nowhere to be seen, he’d disappeared into the curtain of rain beyond. Desolator moved the bags of grease into his left hand then pulled a miniature umbrella out of his coat pocket. Opening the umbrella with a flick of his wrist, Desolator disappeared into the curtain of rain.
Christopher rushed towards the exit. “Cain—” someone started to say. But he was out the door before he could identify the voice. He looked around like a ferret for a split second, wiping away the rain from his eyes. Umbrella, glasses and cap forgotten inside the WcDonald’s.
Christopher didn’t have to look hard, his quarry wasn’t trying to hide. The black umbrella that his mother’s murderer had so casually pulled out bobbed down the street not 5 meters to his left. Two WcDonald’s bags still clutched in his left hand.
Christopher followed. There wasn’t a plan yet, he had Hailey’s quirk, he could choke the bastard right now, break his neck.
‘No! You’re not a murderer.’ His mind screamed.
‘So why am I here?’ Christopher asked himself.
Desolator turned a corner and continued down a side road. Christopher raced after him. Heart racing, he answered his own question, ‘trying to get myself killed apparently!’
Christopher followed Desolator 5 meters behind, mind racing for a plan. He couldn’t kill him and a nonlethal apprehension was beyond him. If he stopped to call the heroes Desolator would be long gone before the phone was answered! Desolator didn’t seem to notice him. That gave him a little more time to think. Dammit, what’s my plan?!
They were almost to the bus stop. Here, here was the point! Christopher realized. If Christopher got on the bus with him, he could narrow down where Desolator was hiding out, tell the pros, work from there.
Desolator walked straight past the bus stop. Christopher trembled in anticipation. If he wasn’t taking the bus that meant he was working near here. Near the school. Forget a general area, if Christopher kept following him, he might be able to find out what building Desolator was working out of!
Desolator turned a corner into a narrow residential street, not wide enough for a car. Without a thought, Christopher followed. As he rounded the corner, Christopher saw Desolator’s still open umbrella laying on its side on top of a house’s first step. The umbrella sheltered the two bags of WcDonald’s from the rain.
“Shit.” Christopher whispered just before he felt the cold steel of a .45 barrel press against the back of his neck.
“I know 5 years olds who tail better than you do.” The ice cold voice of Desolator came over the rain.
Christopher shivered. Rain fell in streams down his face. He was dead-to-rights, there wasn’t much he could do in this situation. He wasn’t good enough with Hailey’s quirk to operate by anything other than sight and there were enough sight-based quirks Deoslator might blow his head off if he started to turn.
“You’re too green to be working for someone.” Desolator continued. “Why did you follow me?”
Christopher manually controlled his breathing. ‘Calm down. Think of assets.’ Christopher thought. He had Hailey’s quirk, a phone in his pocket, and a... puddle to his right. Hailey’s quirk was the only good asset, but he needed to see the bastard!
Desolator pressed his .45 harder, digging into Christopher’s neck. “I asked you a question young man.”
“You killed my mom.” Christopher answered without thinking. His brain was bugging him about assets again. Was there something he was missing?
“That… actually narrows it down. I haven’t killed that many mothers.” Desolator admitted. “Crimson Ronin?” He ventured.
Christopher didn’t answer. Assets, his mind kept returning to assets, what asset was he missing?
Desolator shifted uncomfortably, he was wet and now he was starting to get cold. He didn’t want to catch pneumonia playing 20 questions in the rain, but he was curious enough to play 3 questions in the rain. “Lady Death?”
The puddle! Christopher’s eyes glanced towards the puddle. It was hazy, but there was a reflection there. He could make out Desolator’s figure, as well as the gun pressed against the nap of Christopher’s neck.
“Hrm… are you European? Was she the Matron?”
Christopher remembered a video he watched years ago on disarming someone with a gun. Grab the barrel and the butt of the gun, then twist the gun away from the assailants palm, while you move your body the opposite direction. The move should break the assailant’s finger and keep you out of the line of fire. Christopher’s position was wrong, but with Hailey’s psychokinesis it was basically right. Reaching with her power, he wrapped a field around Desolator’s gun. He’d have to spin the gun right, while he spun left. If he did this wrong he was going to die.
“I give up.” Desolator said. Again interpreting Christopher’s lack of response as a ‘no.’ “Tell me, who did I kill?”
“Miracle.” Christopher answered, then, before Desolator could respond, sprung into action. He spun to the left as he used Hailey’s quirk to twist the gun in Desolator’s hand. The trigger guard caught Desolator’s finger like a vice as it continued to spin and with a snap, his finger broke. Desolator hissed and the gun went flying off to the side. Christopher triumphed at the sound of a shattered bone as he began to exit his spin. This was over! The moment he saw Desolator he could--
A fist collided with Christopher’s jaw with a solid crack. Christopher staggered back, his vision was white. Before he could gather himself. He felt two hands his shoulders and then, he was yanked downwards, only to feel a knee slam into his sternum.
Christopher fell down face first, gasping for air. Cold wet asphalt filled his every sense as he writhed on the ground.
Desolator hissed in pain as he looked at his mangled finger. Christopher tried to look up, but couldn’t. “Yup, you’re her spawn all right.”
Christopher grabbed at the asphalt, his hand refused to grip, his arm refused to bear his weight. He kicked his legs, but just ended up splashing water on his trousers. All he could do was struggle while laying flat on the ground.
Christopher heard Desolator walk away. He ground his teeth, trying to will strength into his legs. They might as well have been stone.
Christopher heard Desolator pick up his gun. Christopher tried to lash out blindly with Hailey’s power. Only for it to fizzle before it could leave his head. He just couldn’t concentrate well enough, his thoughts were in shambles.
A hand enclosed Christopher’s throat, compressing his carotid artery. Christopher tried to struggle against it on pure instinct.
“Sssshhhhhhh.” Desolator cooed. “Don’t fight, just go to sleep.”
Christopher began to cry as the world went dark. That was it then? All that work, hoping that doing what mom did would make up for forgetting her, wasted. As he lost consciousness, somewhere deep inside his mind, he heard a voice that could only be his own. A voice that cried out what was probably his last thought. ‘I tried mom.’
The smell of antiseptic greeted Christopher as he opened his eyes, the florescent lights of a hospital hung overhead. He was laying in a hospital bed, teal curtains pulled around him. A familiar figure leaned into Christopher’s field of vision. The figure was an old man with gray hair and gray eyes and a kindly demeanor. He held the back of his hand against Christopher’s head.
“Aright, my ‘ansum?” The Doctor asked, removing his hand, satisfied his fever was starting to taper. “Nuffin like lying in a mizzle to make ye need a doc, wot wot?”
“… huh?”
“Ah, sorry lad,” The Doctor seemed to consciously rein in his accent. “You’ll be right as rain in just a day or so. I had to fix you up, o’course. Your jaw was… shattered’s not doing what happened justice really. But it’s fixed now.”
“Thanks.” Christopher rubbed his jaw, as if he still expected to feel jagged bone. “What happened?” He asked.
“Well, you were facedown in a puddle on a residential. Some bloke, not sure who. Called 119. The paramedics saw your student ID, and they called me. I did my thing and… here we are. As for the rest--”
“We were hoping you could tell us.” The voice was a familiar one. Christopher looked up and saw Rosethorn standing at the door, her face creased with worry. The Doctor took this as his cue to exit.
“I’ll check in a little later alright?”
Christopher nodded numbly. Rosethorn waited for the Doctor to leave and then pulled up a chair to sit next to Christopher. She waited almost a minute for Christopher to speak, when he didn’t, she started.
“I just got back from the WcDonald’s you were at.” Rosethorn began, searching Christopher’s face for any reaction. “Hailey and Maxine say you chased after a blonde boy that was harassing them.” Christopher looked away. “Faith says you chased after the old man that saved them.”
Christopher didn’t answer.
“What’s the truth Chris?” Rosethorn asked, dropping all formality. She hoped that more familiar language might get her student to open up, or maybe shock him into answering on reflex.
Christopher considered lying. He could say he chased the blonde boy, that the blonde boy beat him. Then he’d have to prove he didn’t use his quirk before his life was in danger and the investigation would turn into Hell. On the other hand, telling the truth would mean admitting he was stupid enough to follow an internationally renowned criminal blindly down an alley.
Christopher looked at his teacher. “I chased the old man.” He answered, there was more at stake than his reputation or pride. If the 5 were in Kyoto, people needed to know. “I thought I recognized him… I was right.”
Rosethorn waited. Christopher searched for the words, in the end, he just said it. “It was Desolator.”
Rosethorn’s eyes narrowed. She’d heard rumors that Desolator and the 5 were in Kyoto. But for what? Did Midas hire them? And why the Hell were they after one of HER students?! Rosethorn kept her outward composure. She leaned forward. “What happened?”
Christopher told his story, from the moment he recognized the man until Desolator held his throat and he lost consciousness. The feeling of those fingers on his throat, when he was certain he was about to die came back. His own hand closed around his throat. Rosethorn watched that hand like a hawk. For a moment it looked like Christopher was going to choke himself. Then the moment passed, he didn’t.
Christopher was lost for a moment. There’d been something at the end, something just before he passed out, something from deep inside him. But it lay at the edge of his memory, he just couldn’t summon it.
“… and then I woke up here.” Christopher finally concluded.
“Do I need to tell you how stupid what you did was?”
Christopher shook his head meekly. It had been REALLY stupid. He tensed, ready for the follow up question. ‘Why’d you follow Desolator?’ It was a question he didn’t have an answer to. At first he thought it was for revenge, but then wouldn’t he have just broke Desolator’s neck there in the rain, with no visible witnesses? If not for revenge why had he only followed him?
“Why’d you follow him?” Rosethorn asked. She expected some hemming an hawing, trying to justify himself with pretty words. She was surprised when Christopher answered on reflex.
“He’s dangerous.” Christopher whispered. His answer surprised him, not just for the ease with which he gave it, but for how right it felt. “He has to be found and I… I was there.”
Christopher looked up, more scared than he’d been in years, would she believe that? Would the one time he told her the absolute truth just get him accused of lying again. He looked up and found Rosethorn smiling tightly.
She tried not to smile, she really did. What he’d done was monumentally stupid and deserved a scolding or expulsion. He’d be dead if it was a villain with fewer scruples. But that answer was too honest. It reminded her of an interview she’d watched years ago, of an American hero who was just starting out. She had to smile.
Rosethorn realized just how close her student’s stupidity had come to getting him killed and just how brave he had to be to be that fucking braindead. Pride and anger warred in her mind and in the end, relief won.
“Get some rest Chris-kun.” Rosethorn leaned back in her chair, settling in for a long wait. “Your dad will be here in an hour and the three of us will discuss what to do about this incident in the morning.”
Christopher nodded.
“And…” this might be the wrong thing to say. She was supposed to be stern at times like this right? But she couldn’t stop herself from adding one last thing, “I’m glad you’re safe.”
Rosethorn’s simple, grateful tone, broke Christopher. His mind returned to that moment, that moment Desolator throttle him. Christopher knew in that moment he was going to die. He knew it! Christopher screwed his eyes shut. The terror he felt back then was leaking out. He wasn’t going to cry, not here! Not after surviving an encounter with one of the 5!
Rosethorn saw his struggle. Her first instinct was to make him some tea so he could calm down. Or she could’ve gotten the Doctor to give him something to relax. Instead, surprising herself, Rosethorn grabbed Christopher’s wrist and let him know she was still here.
There weren’t any more words said just then. Later there’d be lectures, lectures enough to last a lifetime, first from Rosethorn, then from his father, then Anzu just for good measure. There’d be more restrictions on Christopher’s coming’s and going’s from his house and school. Coordination between his father and the school on what times Christopher was allowed to leave the school and whom he could travel with on specific days. On top of all that, there would be an added requirement that he get a perfect score on his first trimester exams before he’d be allowed to do an internship this summer. But for now? For this moment, there was only a relieved teacher and a student who was definitely crying.