Everything Right with the Two of Them
Feral lounged on a worn-out sofa in the main area of the hideout, her body sprawled lazily as she watched the scene before her. The room was a curious blend of makeshift comfort and utilitarian functionality, the walls lined with various maps and plans, interspersed with patches of exposed brick and metal.
Drekus was animatedly chatting with Ookami. Their conversation was punctuated by bursts of laughter, the sound echoing pleasantly in the space. For some reason, seeing them like that, relaxed and happy, brought a small smile to Feral's face. She felt a strange warmth in her chest, a sensation that had been foreign to her for many years.
The mass of bestial instincts inside her that had driven her for all these years was changing. The relentless impulse to find a mate, to fulfill that primal urge, was no longer the consuming force it had once been. Instead, it felt like just another step in a larger, more complex process, one which she was still trying to understand. She was evolving, but the direction of that evolution was something she was not yet used to.
“Hey, sis,” Karma greeted, flopping onto a nearby chair.
“You’re here a lot lately.” said Hitomi.
Karma shrugged "Your place is more fun than the Night Parade’s. They barely gather anymore since everyone is busy with their own projects.”
Feral adjusted her position slightly to get more comfortable.
How’s everything, by the way? You know, after you got your ass beat by those 1-D students and we had to rescue you.”
Feral chuckled. “Taking it easy. Trying not to push myself too hard.” She gestured to the bandages covering much of her body.
Karma tilted her head, a curious look in her eyes. “Can’t your boss heal you up in a bit? Seems like a waste to let yourself suffer.”
Feral shook her head. “I went there of my own volition, so getting injured and losing like that... that’s on me. Besides, I can recover by myself, just slower. No need to bother the boss with it.”
"Is that right?" Karma said. "Well, I do have a reason to bother your boss today. Where is he?"
The hideout was a sprawling underground labyrinth, the result of Sandatsu’s relentless efforts and his ever-growing collection of quirks.
Workbenches were covered with half-finished devices, glowing screens displayed streams of data, and racks of specialized tools lined the walls.
The tranquility of his labor was interrupted by the arrival of Feral and Karma.
“Hey, bossman, you've got mail” Feral greeted, her voice carrying a casual familiarity.
Sandatsu didn’t pause in his work but acknowledged her with a nod. His eyes flickered towards Karma, who stepped forward with a small, self-satisfied smile.
“I got what you asked for,” Karma said, her tone light and almost teasing. “Sneaking into a teenager’s house was easy.”
Feral watched as Karma handed Sandatsu a small ziplock bag. She couldn’t see what was inside, nor did she particularly care.
Sandatsu took the bag and gave a curt nod. “Ivan will handle your payment. You know I don’t deal with the budget.”
Karma chuckled. “It’s pretty absurd, you know, the boss of a group not touching the money.”
He laughed as well. "Is that so?"
With that, she turned and left, her laughter echoing in the cavernous space. Feral remained behind, her eyes following Karma until she disappeared around a bend in the tunnels.
Sandatsu finally turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “Need something?”
Feral shifted, her demeanor uncharacteristically hesitant. “I can’t move outside as freely because of all the heroes. I wanted to ask you to bring me somewhere.”
“Where do you need to go?” Sandatsu asked.
A woman trudged through the dimly lit hallway of a rundown apartment building, her steps heavy with the weight of exhaustion and anxiety. Her clothes were worn and mismatched, her hair a tangled mess, and her eyes bore the telltale signs of sleepless nights. She reached the door of her small apartment, a place she had called home for the past two years—a sanctuary from a world she no longer trusted.
As she fumbled for her keys, her gaze fell upon the mailbox affixed to her door. Her heart began to race, a familiar sense of dread creeping up her spine. With trembling hands, she opened the mailbox and peered inside. There was something there, a small stack of mail. Anxiety gnawed at her insides, her mind racing with paranoid thoughts. Had they finally figured out her identity? Would she have to move again, leave behind yet another semblance of stability?
She pulled out the contents of the mailbox, her fingers shaking as she sifted through the envelopes. Bills, advertisements, and... junk mail. Just junk mail. She let out a shaky sigh of relief, her body sagging against the door frame. Closing her eyes for a moment, she willed herself to calm down. It wasn’t a threat, not this time. She hadn’t been found out.
Closing the mailbox, she entered the apartment and shut the door behind her. The place was modest, sparsely furnished, but it was hers—her refuge. She dropped the mail on a small table and collapsed onto a worn-out chair, burying her face in her hands.
Azakawa Tamami. That was the name she went by now, though she had changed it countless times over the years. She had become a master at blending into the background, living like a cockroach, surviving on the fringes of society. Her life had become a series of hide-and-seek games, always one step ahead of those who might recognize her for who she truly was.
The mother of that evil spawn. Kaori Hiromi.
Hitomi Hiromi. The name echoed in her mind like a curse. Her daughter, known to the world as the S-class villain Feral, had brought nothing but pain and suffering into her life. Kaori had fled from the shadows of her past, desperate to escape the stigma and the shame. She had hoped that by disappearing, she could leave behind the monstrous legacy of her child.
But the guilt, the fear, and the memories haunted her every waking moment. She had tried to convince herself that it wasn’t her fault, that Hiromi had been evil from birth.
Sandatsu and Feral stood on a nearby rooftop, their figures silhouetted against the fading evening light. They watched Kaori enter her home, her movements weary and cautious. Sandatsu's eyes followed her until she disappeared inside the building, then he turned to Feral, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
"So, you want to take revenge on your mother or something?" he asked, his tone casual. "Because, trust me, I know a thing or two about matricide."
Feral shook her head, her expression unreadable. "Nah," she replied. "I just wanted to check on her. I asked Ivan to dig around and see if he could find her."
Sandatsu glanced back at the apartment building. "She seems normal enough."
"She is," Feral said quietly. "My quirk, the compulsions that come with it... they're a mutation. Something unique to me."
Sandatsu thought about his own mother, a flicker of memory passing through his mind. Even when they had fought to the death, on some level, they had both been fine with it. Their instincts matched. It was normal for them. It felt right.
"It must suck," he said after a moment, "to be different from your parents on such a fundamental level."
She had always been aware of how incompatible she was with other people. But she made the choice to follow her own path. She had the power and the will to fight for herself, to follow her instincts even if they do nothing but bring death and pain to others.
Feral turned to Sandatsu, a small smile in her face. "You know, you better take responsibility."
Sandatsu raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "For what?"
"For giving us something that we'd be afraid to lose," Feral replied, her tone half-joking, half-serious.
Sandatsu scoffed, seemingly disinterested. "Is that so?"
But internally, he gave it a little thought.
Mio Katsuragi was, by all means, a terrible human being. She was arrogant, resentful, hateful, and cruel. A bully who found amusement in manipulation and inflicting psychological torment on others. She was two-faced and lied as naturally as she breathed.
Today, she was basking in the false adoration of her fans. Walking down a busy street, her bright blonde hair with blue tips catching the sunlight, she was approached by several admirers. They praised her bravery, her alleged escape and the supposed heroism she had shown. Mio's blue eyes sparkled with feigned humility as she smiled at each one.
"Thank you, thank you so much," she said, her voice sugary sweet.
The fans ate it up, gushing over her, some even asking for autographs and selfies. Mio obliged, all the while her inner monologue seethed with disdain.
As she walked away, waving and blowing kisses, Mio felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. She had them all fooled. She slipped into a nearby alley, away from prying eyes, her smile dropping instantly.
"God, they're all so stupid," she muttered to herself.
The alley was narrow and dirty, littered with trash and graffiti. The walls were covered in layers of old posters and faded paint. Mio leaned against the cool brick, taking a moment to collect herself. She pulled out her phone and checked her messages. Nothing important.
When Mio stepped out of the alley, she noticed a cat sitting like a loaf, its eyes half-closed in the lazy afternoon sun. She paused, taking out her phone and snapping a picture. The cat didn't move, merely flicking its tail in mild acknowledgment before closing its eyes again. Mio smirked and headed home. Everything was going right as it should be.
Or at least that's how it was supposed to be.
Once she arrived home, the silence was almost oppressive. She tossed her bag on the couch and made her way to her room. It was supposed to be her safe haven, a place where she could relax and unwind. For many years, it had served that purpose perfectly. But lately, even here, she couldn't seem to find peace.
She flopped onto her bed, scrolling through her phone. Social media was a temporary distraction, but the constant barrage of trivial posts and superficial interactions only heightened her sense of boredom. She tossed the phone aside and stared at the ceiling, her mind restless.
Dinner time approached, and with a sigh, she ordered takeout. The process of choosing what to eat and placing the order provided a brief respite from her ennui. While she waited for the food to arrive, she wandered aimlessly around her room, picking up and putting down various items without any real interest.
Her thoughts drifted to her younger sister, Ashleigh. Why isn't she home yet? Mio wondered, feeling a twinge of irritation. Is she out with that Imai, being all lovey-dovey? Or is she going to come home again smelling like sewer?
She pictured herself making Ashleigh stay outside until she cleaned herself at a public bath or something. The image of Ashleigh sitting on an empty cardboard box like an abandoned kitten made Mio chuckle a bit.
Her laughter faded as quickly as it had come, leaving her in the same restless state. She glanced at the clock, willing the minutes to pass more quickly.
The doorbell finally rang, signaling the arrival of her dinner. She went to fetch it, exchanging a few words with the delivery person before retreating back to her room. The food was warm and smelled delicious, but as she ate, she realized that even this wasn't enough to truly distract her.
Mio lay on her bed, her mind churning with thoughts she couldn't seem to escape. Whenever she had been alone with her thoughts before, a creeping anxiety had taken hold, forcing her to confront just how deeply entangled she was in her own web of lies and deceit. But lately, something had shifted.
She wasn't feeling as protective of her normal life anymore. The dissonance between her true self and the world around her was growing more pronounced. She felt increasingly disconnected from the expectations and norms that dictated her everyday existence. As she stared out of the window at the city lights twinkling against the night sky, a phrase floated into her mind:
"The world is yours, huh?"
She muttered the words aloud without realizing it, only to cringe immediately afterward. She closed her eyes, trying to push the memory away, but it resurfaced with a vivid clarity that was hard to ignore.
She remembered the day she had spoken to Him about her ideal world. It had been a moment of vulnerability, one she now viewed with a mixture of embarrassment and something else she couldn't quite identify. She had asked him if he could give her a world like that—a world where she held all the power, where everything revolved around her.
Mio cringed again at the memory, but this time, she didn't dismiss it as quickly. Instead, she let the thought linger, examining it from different angles. A world that revolved around her. It was an idea that should have seemed ludicrous, but instead, she found it oddly comforting.
Mio's thoughts drifted to Sandatsu, or Sandy, Sando, Snady—so many nicknames for a single idiot. She pondered if she regretted meeting him, and yeah, she did. Or maybe she just regretted meeting him the way they did? That was a thought that made her uneasy, so she pushed it to the back of her mind.
It was true that Sandatsu had been the main source of stress and pain in her life ever since they met. Pretending to date him had been mortifying. Every interaction with him had felt like walking through a disgusting swamp.
But there was another side to it. He was also the best pawn one could ask for. He had given her back her normal life, and all things considered, she knew the bastard was head over heels for her.
Mio, on the other hand... Sandatsu wasn't the only person who knew about how Mio really was. But unlike everyone else who had tried to make her change or had outright antagonized her, Sandatsu had been different. He had met her with complete honesty, even supportive at times.
It felt like he was truly looking at her.
Despite all the pain and the facade she had to maintain, there was a strange sense of validation in that. Sandatsu had seen her for who she was and hadn't flinched. He hadn't tried to fix her or mold her into something else. Instead, he had accepted and even encouraged her in his own twisted and incompetent way. That kind of acceptance was something she had never experienced before, and it unsettled her.
The dimly lit expanse of Sandatsu's lab was filled by the soft hum of machinery. Complex devices were scattered around. Mio entered, her usual confident stride unimpeded by the heavy atmosphere. She fixed him with an exasperated look, arms crossed over her chest.
"Seriously? I make the effort to come here and you're just going to stay holed up in this place?" she complained.
Why was everyone interrupting him today? Sandatsu barely glanced up from his work. "I'm preparing for something very important," he replied.
Mio wasn't having any of it. She marched over to him, her voice rising in frustration. "I don't care about whatever creepy thing you're up to right now. I want to go somewhere."
Sandatsu sighed, finally turning his full attention to her. "And where exactly do you want to go?"
"Anywhere but here," she retorted.
He thought for a second. "Fine. It's about time for my meeting anyway."
"What meeting?"
Once again Sandatsu sat across from the world's most dangerous assassin.
Desolator leaned forward, his piercing eyes observing the Reaper. "There's something crucial you need to understand about planning and execution. They aren't separate steps. Planning should be a constant process."
Sandatsu's curiosity piqued. "Constant? How do you mean?"
Desolator's eyes glinted with a hint of satisfaction, pleased that Sandatsu was engaged. "Any situation is in a state of constant flux. Environments change, information updates, variables shift. A plan that is rigid and unchanging will fail. You must adapt continuously. Reassess and revise your strategies as new information comes in."
He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. "For instance, when you're on a mission, don't just execute the plan you came up with initially. As the mission progresses, gather intelligence, observe your surroundings, and anticipate potential obstacles. Adjust your tactics accordingly."
Sandatsu nodded slowly, considering the implications. "So, planning is a dynamic process, always evolving."
"Exactly," Desolator affirmed. "Think of it like a chess game. You're not just thinking about your next move; you're thinking several moves ahead. But as your opponent makes their moves, you adjust your strategy. Flexibility is key."
Desolator leaned back slightly. "In terms of tactics, always have multiple contingencies. If plan A fails, you should have plans B, C, and D ready to go. This way, you're never caught off guard. When you're considering switching to plan C you have to start preparing plan E already."
Sandatsu took mental notes, appreciating the assassin's straightforward approach.
"When planning an operation, break it down into phases. Each phase should have clear objectives and exit strategies. Assign roles based on your team's strengths and ensure they know their responsibilities inside and out."
"Can't I just control them directly? Wouldn't that be more efficient?"
"It would only make it as effective as you are. Leading individual operatives can broaden your awareness. they pick up on things that you alone can't reach."
Sandatsu nodded, genuinely interested. "Yeah, but they can fail at things I would do without much problem."
"Not if you're leading them correctly."
"How?"
"Because a good leader doesn't send their assets into situations they can't properly deal with." He began, his voice steady and commanding. "It's not just about power or control. It's about understanding the strengths and weaknesses of your team, and knowing how to use them effectively."
"Start by assessing your resources. Know the capabilities of each member of your team. For instance, Feral is a formidable combatant, but she requires a certain level of autonomy to be effective. Give her a target and let her loose. Micromanaging her would be counterproductive."
Sandatsu listened intently, noting the assassin's pragmatic approach.
"I already told you how you should break your objectives into smaller, manageable tasks. Prioritize them based on importance and the strengths of your team members."
He paused, observing Sandatsu's reactions before continuing. "Maintain a balance between discipline and flexibility. Your team needs to trust your judgment, but they also need to know that you trust them. Encourage initiative but establish clear boundaries."
Desolator leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he considered his next words. "And remember, a leader leads by example. If you're calm under pressure, your team will follow suit. If you're erratic or indecisive, it will reflect in their performance."
Sandatsu absorbed the advice, the gears in his mind turning. Desolator’s gaze briefly flickered to Sandatsu’s face, taking note of the subtle changes – the absence of breath, the near lack of blinking, and the few grey strands in his hair.
The advising session concluded. "Thank you for your insights. Your payment will be handled by one of my people."
Desolator nodded, noting again how Sandatsu kept himself distanced from the financial aspects of his operations. It was a small detail that went against some of the advice he had given him in regards to leading and having the right image.
Sandatsu left, exiting the building. He found Mio waiting a short distance away.
She had observed the entire meeting through the memories of those involved, staying just within her quirk's range. "You needed lectures on how to be a proper villain? How pathetic," she spat, crossing her arms.
Sandatsu met her glare with calm indifference. "I'm not used to having to care about others. That’s all."
Mio rolled her eyes. "Are you planning to head back to the hideout now?"
"Yes," Sandatsu replied evenly.
She scowled, the frustration evident on her face, and loudly and rudely complained about him. Her insults bounced off him, though.
But Mio had anticipated this reaction and had an ace up her sleeve. She smirked, leaning in slightly. "You know, there's this quirk that might interest you..."
The moonlight cast a silvery glow over the beach, the gentle waves lapping at the shore. Sandatsu and Mio walked side by side, the night air cool against their skin. This was the beach where Shihai Owari had died.
"So mentioning a quirk is all it took for you to stop acting like a retard and listen."
"Shut up."
He had more than enough ways to force her to tell him, but Mio had decided to take the gamble that he'd just choose to humor her.
"Anyway, how's school?"
Mio rolled her eyes dramatically. "School's pathetic, as always. All that drama is nauseating, but it’s fun watching the tension eat away at people. Plus, my standing’s improved a lot. Got some haters now, sure, but most of them admire me even more. It’s like reality slapped them in the face. They're realizing heroes aren't enough."
Sandatsu's interest was piqued. "That’s interesting. Sounds like you’re enjoying it."
"Oh, definitely."Mio's eyes sparkled with sadistic delight. The best part? The info she got on Majestic. A perfect recording of him waiting for you to be weakened instead of rescuing his students. This was the silver bullet to the beast that is hero society. She was going to wait for the perfect moment to use it, and savor every second.
She wasn't specifically seeking the downfall of hero society; that was merely an outcome she anticipated. What truly intrigued her was the in-between process, the transition, and the grief that would inevitably come with it.
She usually focused on a more personal level, directly blackmailing others and savoring their reactions up close. Physical suffering didn't amuse her much unless it was for revenge. She didn’t gain anything if Sandatsu decided to randomly kill a bunch of nobodies. However, the idea of heroes losing their standing was a recent development that had started to appeal to her on a grander scale.
She relished the thought of them being stripped of their false honor and adoration, exposing their true nature to the world. It was one of the few large-scale catastrophes that genuinely excited her.
Being a hero student was just a means to an end for her: fame, fortune, and a solidified image as a good person. But lately, she had begun to resent heroes more. She saw through their façades. Most pursued heroism for the same reasons she did—fame and money. Yet, she believed she was still better than them. They were beneath her, disgusting and worthy of mockery.
She didn't see her perspective as unfair. If anything, it felt right.
The waves crashed softly against the shore, creating a rhythmic background to Mio and Sandatsu's twisted conversation as they strolled along the moonlit beach.
"So," Mio began, "that Atsushi girl in your class had a quirk awakening, huh?"
Sandatsu nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Yeah, I know. I even considered reaping her quirk a bit."
"There it is. Your autistic obsession." she complained. "by the way, the students from other classes have been taking out their anger on the vulnerable members of 1-D. Like that one guy—what do you call him? You know, the junkie."
Sandatsu's expression remained indifferent. "That's for Hiro to deal with. He wanted to hold onto life that badly."
Mio's smirk widened. "Do you even care about your former classmates? Even your friends, you heartless piece of shit?"
"I do care," Sandatsu replied, a hint of a smile on his face. "That's why they're alive. Well, most of them. I don't have any issues with letting them live as long as they don't have anything I want and don't get in my way."
Mio raised an eyebrow. "They are heroes, though. They're bound to get in your way, dumbass."
Sandatsu's smile faded slightly. "I know."
"So you're fine with killing them?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
"Yes," he answered without hesitation.
"Even your friends?" Mio pressed, her eyes glinting with interest.
"Even my friends," Sandatsu affirmed.
There was a moment of silence as they walked. The beach, despite its serene appearance, felt charged with their conversation.
"You know," Sandatsu began, "your sister is still in 1-D."
Mio nodded, her expression unchanging. "I know."
Sandatsu studied her face, searching for any sign of conflict or hesitation. "Doesn't that bother you?"
Mio shrugged, a cold smile forming on her lips. "Not really. She's her own person. I'll take care of it."
"Anyway," Sandatsu started, glancing at Mio, "How are things going with your cover? Maybe I should erase your memories again so people don't discover the truth. Lots of psychic quirks around after all."
Mio rolled her eyes. "That won't be necessary, you idiot. Most people at the school don't have my reach, and I can deal with it. Plus, I get a kick out of it."
"Really?" Sandatsu asked, curious.
"Yeah," Mio replied with a wicked grin. "The few that knew how I really am are going through hell. I can feel them seething whenever I get compliments."
She laughed, the sound dark and mocking. They should know their place. She wins, they lose. That's how things are supposed to be, and that's how things are.
As they talked, they moved closer to each other. Without realizing it, their hands brushed together, and then, they were holding hands. Neither of them pulled away; the gesture felt natural.
They reached a point where both of them were smiling while talking, the conversation flowing effortlessly. In that moment, both monsters were content.