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CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
"Just stay in the vents for now. What we're about to do isn't very safe," Rio said, his voice low but firm. Himiko and Hayato trailed behind him.
Hayato hesitated, biting back the words rising in his throat. He felt like a burden—always too weak, too useless. Shame burned in his chest. Instead of speaking, he swallowed the words and nodded.
Himiko, on the other hand, glanced at Rio with wide-eyed fascination and nodded vigorously. The way she moved, so eager and fearless—it was almost… cute, in a twisted sort of way.
Rio's sharp eyes caught the flicker of doubt in Hayato. "Your job is the most important of all," he said quietly. "There's a monitoring room somewhere in this building. The device suppressing our quirks is there. I've got a plan to get us out without it, but if you can disable those cuffs, we'll have a guaranteed shot at breaking free."
He hadn't said anything, but Rio had already seen through him. Hayato knew it was just a consolation. Rio was smart—probably already running through a hundred plans without him. Without his quirk, he was nothing.
He wasn't book smart like Daiki, nor was he good with crowds like Kenji. Just a kid trapped in useless flesh.
But still, Rio needed him.
He shuffled toward Kiba, who crouched with hands outstretched, ready to help. Kiba had already torn away the metal casing blocking the vents. It would be too small for most, but it was a perfect fit for Hayato and Himiko's lithe frames.
With a quick boost, Kiba lifted him into the cramped darkness. Almost immediately, he did the same for Himiko.
"Stay safe, guys!" Rio called, already moving ahead.
The vent was tighter than Hayato expected—too tight for any real movement. His palms pressed against the cold metal as he crawled forward, every scrape and echo sending a spike of panic through his chest. Behind him, Himiko was quiet, crawling with a fluidity that didn't quite fit with the shy girl he thought she was.
"Where are you going?" The vents were cold and dark. He could barely see what was in front of him. He had never felt cold before; the temperature felt wrong… foreign, even. The warmth of his flames had never before eluded him.
"Move, Bald Torch, I'm going to save Rio-chan."
He wasn't even offended by the name. He had never grown hair; it did not affect him. Many would kill to have flames for a head of hair. What was surprising was the person who had said it—Himiko didn't look the part. For months he had taken her to be a shy, quiet girl.
"Well, I can't move if I don't know where we're going." He thought they would hide out in the vents until help came; Himiko prodding his legs with her fingers wasn't helping that goal.
"We're in a vent, dummy! Just head wherever you can feel heat and you'll find something."
Hayato nodded imperceptibly. Heat was something he was used to—that made it all the more obvious where he should go. The temperature went higher on the right.
"Follow me." Hayato crawled forward as he began to imagine what he would find on the other side. Armed guards? Some kind of Gundam? Or even worse—a polar bear.
He couldn't even stew in his silent dread because Himiko kept humming behind him.
How does she do it? he wondered, swallowing back the knot of fear tightening in his throat.
They crawled forward, making clinking noises as they moved ahead.
"We're here." Hayato swallowed, and it irritated him because his throat was dry.
"So what's the plan? What do we do if—"
"Nope."
And then Himiko did the most absurd thing he had seen in his life—she kicked down the vent and fell into the room below. The sound echoed in the corridors. Whatever element of surprise they may have had was completely lost now.
He watched in growing horror as three armed men came into the room where Himiko lay, with one particularly young researcher behind them.
"Hey, how did you get here? This floor was sealed," one of the guards shouted as he trained his gun on Himiko.
"Ow, ow. I really should have thought this through," Himiko muttered as she spat out an offending hair that had gotten lodged in her mouth when she fell.
"Answer me! How are you here?" the guard barked aggressively as he cocked his gun, now moving closer.
"Ah, sorry about that. Didn't see you there," Himiko said as she raised her hands in surrender.
"I came through the vents. Pretty neat, huh?"
"Stop playing with me, put your hands behind your back and stay where you are."
Himiko complied with the order, a smile plastered on her face.
Hayato watched in horror, urging his body to move, to act as a distraction—but his body betrayed him. His limbs felt heavy, like they belonged to someone else. Even his fire was gone.
All that remained was the dread curdling in his stomach.
Instead, he scooted back so the guards wouldn't notice he was in the vents.
"Seriously, a break-in and now this—what's the world even turning into nowadays?" the guard cursed as he brought out some cuffs to place on Himiko's wrists.
It would be the last action he ever made.
"Kuuurgh…" The man held his jugular as blood flowed freely down it. Hayato was right above them and he hadn't even seen how it had happened.
For the guards who were a couple meters away, it might as well have been magic.
The guards watched in confusion as their comrade fell to the ground, still clutching his throat, while a ten-year-old girl smiled in euphoria as she was painted in his blood.
Their hesitation didn't last for long as the researcher bellowed the word, "FIRE!"
Their guns lit up as their machine guns spewed out bullets in a torrent of steel and destruction.
Hayato had been called many names in his life—arsonist, devil's child, scum. The most derogatory of names, and yet watching Himiko, he understood for the first time he was none of that.
He stared at the smiling face of a true monster.
Hayato could only watch, frozen, as she danced through them like a storm—each cut precise and merciless. Blood sprayed, soaking her clothes and staining the floor, but she never faltered.
She didn't just kill them. She played with them. She moved like it was a game. When blood sprayed across her face, she smiled like a child under a summer rain.
Hayato didn't understand it—but worse, a part of him feared he never would.
Himiko Toga had taken down four men—three who were armed—and she did it all with a smile on her face.
"Come out, Bald Torch. We have places to be."
That call filled him with terror. It was a tone dripping with honey, but Hayato knew better than to be deceived.
He moved without thinking, afraid that even hesitating would put him next on her list. In that moment, he wasn't sure if she saw him as friend, teammate—or future target.
Hayato dropped down the hatch, and they pressed forward to a heavy door marked with blinking red lights—the control room.
A small panel beside it beeped and scanned her palm.
Nothing.
Himiko scowled. "Tch, it's a biometric lock."
Her gaze swept the hallway, settling on one of the downed researchers still groaning weakly on the floor.
"No," Hayato breathed, but it was too late.
Without a word, she dropped to her knees beside him. Hayato's stomach twisted again as she drew the knife close to his wrist—she was already cutting his hand, sharp and fast.
She hummed a soft, cheery tune as she sawed through tendon and bone. Like she was unwrapping a gift, not taking a man's hand.
The man's scream echoed down the hall as she severed his hand clean off.
Holding it aloft, she pressed the bloodied palm to the scanner.
The door clicked open.
In the room lay hundreds of computers, and at its very end—comically—a big red switch with the words DO NOT TOUCH.
That was the mainframe, and Himiko went over and powered it down.
Hayato slumped against a wall as he heaved a sigh of relief.
Rio had promised that they would all get out of this safely once he got his quirk back.
Hayato felt himself complete as his hair sparked back to life.
He closed his eyes as he sank into a sweet slumber. He hoped when he was awake next, this nightmare would be over.
Floor Two
'Impossible, this is impossible.' Number Four stepped back slightly as his heart raced in his chest. He was stuck in place like a fly trapped in amber—Rio's presence at this moment was suffocating.
Rio's gaze was akin to a predator's, the presence eerily reminiscent of the master's.
That thought made Number Four pause. Right... if I can't even face this, then my thoughts of overthrowing Master… no, All For One are futile.
He laughed.
Quiet at first. Then louder.
And then it broke into a deep, drawn-out howl. Mad and guttural.
"Hey, what's so funny? I'd like to hear the joke."
Number Four turned his head creakily, like a poorly oiled machine, to see Rio standing beside him.
"I—"
By the time Number Four blinked, a fist had already dug itself into his stomach.
The hit sent ripples through the man's massive torso. For the first time in the entire fight, he recoiled.
"What—"
A second blow struck his side.
Then his knee.
Then his ribs.
Then a crack across the jaw.
In a second, this man had received the beating of his life, and as if the laws of physics had glitched momentarily, it was only then that his body flew away from the impact.
Number Four swung an arm, but the attack hit nothing. Rio had already shifted positions twice before the blow even reached air.
A palm strike to the face made his nose explode in a red mist. A leg sweep had him falling, and before he even touched the floor, a foot was driving into his chest like a piston.
"Bleergh!" Number Four puked blood as his intestines churned. He hadn't even had the time to process it—his brain hadn't even begun to register what was happening.
Another strike.
And another.
Rio's fists blurred.
Number Four's armored flesh, that had once laughed off bullets, now dented. Bone cracked. His breathing faltered. His teeth splintered from the inside of his mouth.
This could no longer be called a fight. This was a one-sided massacre.
He was tearing this man down like a brick wall—until nothing remained.
Number Four reached out in desperation, rage flooding his ruined face.
"You little sh—"
CRACK.
His jaw snapped sideways as Rio's elbow caught him mid-rant.
He was thrown across the room.
Before he hit the wall, Rio was already there.
Time was meaningless.
The moment Number Four collided with the concrete, a hand grabbed him by the throat and pressed his face to the ruined ground.
With a burst of speed, he dragged his face on the floor, redecorating the place with his face.
Rio's eyes were empty as he whispered beside Number Four's ear, "Are you bored now?"
With another burst of speed, he bashed Number Four's head against the floor even harder, imprinting his face into the tiles.
"Are you not entertained?"
He lifted his skull and bashed it once more.
"ANSWER ME!"
That question was met with silence. Number Four was barely breathing, in no place to offer any consultation.
The silence didn't last.
A rifle shot cracked from above.
The man—Wilson—who had shot his shoulders before had fired once again. Clearly, all bets and talks of an honorable duel were off the moment their boss got manhandled.
"Really? A bullet? You might as well have mailed it to me."
Before Wilson could even look at Rio in horror, a clean chop landed on his neck—
And swiped his head clean off.
A geyser of blood poured out of his body as he crumpled lifelessly to the floor.
Everyone paused and held their breath. This was the first casualty on the enemy side. They had not expected one of their own to die.
CRACK.
The plant user who had been sending out vines was down next; his head twisted unnaturally, neck bent at an angle that no living man could recover from. His body hung for a moment like a puppet suspended in disbelief, then toppled.
There was no retaliation after that.
Rio was an inevitable end.
He had become death.
He had destroyed all his enemies but one.
Rio didn't look back at all the guards that stood like nothing had happened—before they simultaneously dropped down like flies, blood spouting out their necks.
He turned back to the fallen form of Number Four. The man was twitching. Still breathing... barely.
His once-proud frame, the smug arrogance—gone.
Now, he was just another broken thing cluttering the floor.
"You thought this was a game," Rio said quietly. "You laughed. You mocked. You killed."
He grabbed the man by the throat and dragged him upright.
"I told you I'd kill you."
There was no scream. No final words.
Just a crack as Rio drove a palm strike directly into the man's sternum—force concentrated, vibrating through tissue and bone like a tuning fork from hell.
Number Four's heart burst inside his chest.
He fell like dead weight.
Author's note: Sorry that I haven't been posting ever since. My new job is a 24-hour shift, that and my internship being a nine to five has made me gassed out. I've sorted through the logistics though, the update speed should be back to normal, that or I'll post the rest chapters before Tuesday next week.
You can read the advance chapters here@ https://patreon.com/So_indecisive