Everything Wrong With the Two of Them 3

Sandatsu had been busy. Too busy.

Had he cared about sleep, it would’ve been impossible to fit everything into a single day. Desolator’s lessons and Higana’s experiments were an exercise in endurance, a constant game of how much he was willing to push his own mind and body respectively. On top of that, setting up the new base, reaping more quirks, refining his own research… There was never a moment where something didn’t need his attention.

And yet, for once, he had nothing to do.

Dressed in an old, loose t-shirt and equally worn-out pants, he lay flat on his back in an open field, staring up at the sky. The wind rolled lazily through the grass, sending slow waves through the tall blades. He let out a slow exhale, body sinking into the earth, muscles slack for the first time in... he couldn’t even remember.

It was almost nice.

Then he felt it.

A pull in the back of his mind.

His vision split, his sight no longer just his own. Suddenly, he saw the world through her eyes. Mio’s. The small, familiar hands were hers. The slightly unsteady shift in weight as she crossed her arms. And, in that moment, he knew she wanted to meet.

Controlling her body just enough to respond, he made her speak.

"What do you want?"

Then, relinquishing control, he let her answer for herself.

"Just open a portal already."

Sandatsu sighed through his nose. Didn’t even bother sitting up as he lifted a hand and twisted the space in front of him.

A jagged, swirling rift tore itself into existence beside him, warping the air with a hollow, thrumming sound.

And just like that, she stepped through.

Mio.

The yellow coat draped over her shoulders caught the wind. The first thing she did was look down at him like he was an inconvenience.

"Get up idiot."

Sandatsu didn’t move. "No."

Her eye twitched. "Oh? Oh, is this what we’re doing today? You gonna act like a lazy fuck when I’m literally—"

"Somehow," he cut in, shifting his arms behind his head, "I don’t think you called me out just to nag."

She clicked her tongue and crouched down beside him. “What I called you out for,” she said, “was to remind you that you owe me a trip to Hawaii.”

Sandatsu raised a brow.

Mio’s fingers dug into his shoulder. Tiny hands, sharp nails, no strength.

"You said, and I quote, ‘Sure. We can go to Hawaii on your next day off.’ Well, guess fucking what?" She gritted her teeth and gave him a shove. “You’ve got the right quirk. And it's my day off. So, you’re gonna get off your giant fucking ass and take me to Hawaii right now.”

Sandatsu stared at her.

Mio stared back, waiting.

“I don’t remember saying that.”

"You fucking bitch."

Sandatsu’s head tilted slightly.

“You’re gonna kill me over a vacation?”

His hands came up, lazily prying hers away from his shoulders.

Mio glared at him, her chest rising and falling from sheer frustration.

“…You done?” he asked.

A long pause.

Then, finally, she huffed and moved away from him, rolling her eyes.

“…Hawaii, huh?” he said at last.

Mio’s head snapped toward him, bright blue-tipped hair whipping over her shoulder.

Sandatsu sat up, resting an arm on his knee. “Fine,” he sighed. “Let’s go.”

Her expression didn’t change, she just stood there, watching him.

Then, with a slow smirk, she crossed her arms.

"That’s more like it."




Wind howled around them, but it never touched them. The spiraling force from Turbine Surge pushed them forward at speeds that would’ve turned an ordinary person into paste. But Psychokinesis formed an invisible barrier, keeping Mio shielded from the sheer velocity, making the insane pace feel like little more than a smooth ride. At the same time, he was constantly opening rifts in space with Breach, advancing 20 kilometers with every portal crossed. Travel like this was precise, efficient, nothing wasted.

Mio didn’t complain. Not even once. Which, in itself, was almost more alarming than her usual bitching. Instead, she just leaned slightly against his chest, staring out at the blur of ocean below them.

“You’re being weird,” Sandatsu commented, his voice cutting through the wind.

Mio blinked up at him. “What?”

“You haven’t called me a single slur yet. Kinda unsettling.”

Her mouth twitched. But instead of snapping back, she just rolled her eyes and rested her chin against the crook of his shoulder, hair whipping slightly from the shifting air pressure. “Tch. Maybe I’m just in a good mood.”

Sandatsu raised a brow. “That’s not a thing that happens.”

Mio huffed through her nose. “Shut the fuck up. I’m thinking about what I wanna do when we get there.”

“And that would be?”

A slow, satisfied hum. “Shopping, obviously. There’s some designer stuff I’ve had my eye on. Maybe check out some of the beaches. I wanna see how the water looks at night.”

"I wanna eat somewhere."

Mio snorted, lifting her head just slightly to glance at him. “At least you said somewhere and not someone.”

His only response was a smirk.

They kept moving, cutting across the sky in rapid bursts of Breach. Fas, untraceable through standard flight patterns. But Hawaii was Hawaii. The closer they got, the more they had to consider detection. There were things in place to catch unexpected aerial movements, and he had no interest in seeing how quickly the heroes, or even fighter jets could respond to unauthorized airspace intrusion.

So, he stopped.

Mid-air.

For a moment, there was just weightlessness.

Then, they started to drop.

Mio barely reacted beyond a lazy, drawn-out sigh. She was used to this shit by now. Falling didn’t even make her stomach flip anymore. Didn’t mean she liked it, but she’d adapted.

Sandatsu, on the other hand, was relaxed as ever. As the sky rushed up around them, a rift tore open beneath them.

A split second later, they were falling out the other side, straight down into a narrow alleyway between buildings. He landed like gravity was a suggestion, knees barely bending to absorb the impact, boots hitting the ground. The moment his feet were steady, he let Mio down, setting her on her own two feet with no effort at all.

She adjusted her coat, brushing invisible dust off the lapels. Then, looking around at the humid, warm street beyond the alley, she exhaled sharply.

“Well. We’re here.”

Sandatsu stretched his neck, rolling out his shoulders. “Yep.”




Sandatsu walked through the store with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

Mio, on the other hand, was animated, moving from display to display with the ease of someone who had long since stopped caring about how much she spent.

he yellow coat draped over her shoulders swayed as she turned, pulling a plush toy off a shelf and holding it up with a look of mild fascination. "Tanned Hello Kitty," she mused, turning it around in her hands before shoving it toward Sandatsu’s face. "Can you believe this? They sell this here."

Sandatsu blinked lazily at the stuffed cat, unimpressed. "Yeah, crazy,"

Mio narrowed her eyes at him. "You are so fucking boring sometimes."

"I just don't get why psychotic girls lose their minds over Sanrio. Even with enhanced intelligence, I can't figure it out."

Mio shoved the plush into his chest, and he let it drop to the floor without even pretending to catch it. She rolled her eyes and stomped off toward another display. He followed at his own pace, still keeping his hands in his pockets

Nobody, his own creation, derived from Everyman, a quirk he'd studied extensively before developing his own iteration using the samples brought by Karma. It worked by dulling the perception of others, making him just another face in the crowd. He wasn’t invisible, not in a literal sense, but he was unremarkable, unmemorable. People saw him, acknowledged his presence in that automatic way you do a stranger on the street, but the moment they looked away, he was forgotten. Just a passing figure, nothing worth noting.

It wasn’t perfect, though. The more he strained it, the more likely it was to fail. Pulling out one of his favorite flashy combos, layering destructive quirks together, using his usual style of overkill... those things would make the illusion crumble. Even now, he had to be mindful. Keeping passive quirks running was one thing, but if he got carried away, people would start noticing him for real.

Mio, of course, was unaffected by the quirk’s effect. He’d made sure of that with Effect Reformat.

Quirks that modified other quirks were rare, but they weren’t unheard of. Most, though, worked on the quirks of others, like activating, amplifying, negating. That was the natural order. A quirk like Effect Reformat, one that worked on its own user’s abilities, was an anomaly, an unnatural thing given that people only had one quirk each. One of many quirks he’d obtained through his work with the Singularity Cult.

So now that you’re a pro, you taking interns?" Sandatsu asked casually, watching her run her fingers over some overpriced accessories.

Mio made a face. "Not sure. My sister’s definitely not coming to my agency, but whatever. Could be good PR, though."

Sandatsu hummed in acknowledgment. "Your career’s going well."

"Obviously," Mio said, smirking. "I’m not out there getting my ass kicked like the battle freaks or getting buried in rubble like rescue heroes. My cases feel more personal to people, so my fanbase is solid. Plus, my quirk helps police investigations. Even if my evidence doesn’t always get admitted in court, it still pushes cases forward. They’ve already requested me for a few."

"Look at you, playing respectable."

Mio grinned, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Not everyone’s a wanted terrorist. Some of us have careers."

"Hey I've been working on my own career. I even got a teacher."

"Advisor. And what nice job getting into a career that makes it so you can't show your face in public."




Sandatsu leaned against the wall outside the changing room, arms crossed over his chest, as Mio inspected another outfit in the mirror. The store was high-end, naturally. She wouldn’t be caught dead in anything else. The place had that pristine, designer feel, with white walls, sleek displays, and sales attendants who had that particular expression that mixed politeness with quiet judgment.

The curtain to the fitting room was pulled back, and Mio stepped out.

She was wearing a deep red wrap dress, sleeveless, with a plunging neckline. The hem stopped mid-thigh. She turned toward the mirror, tilting her head slightly as she examined herself, hands on her hips.

“Well?” she asked, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather.

Sandatsu barely lifted his head. “It’s a dress.”

Mio clicked her tongue. “Fucking useless.”

She turned, giving herself another once-over in the mirror, shifting her stance slightly. Again she disappeared back into the fitting room. A few minutes later, she stepped out again, this time in a form-fitting, off-shoulder black top with mesh sleeves and a high-waisted skirt stopping just above her knees.

“This one’s good,” she said, mostly to herself, twisting slightly to check the fit.

"Yeah."

Mio hummed as she turned back to the mirror. She went back into the changing room, and emerged again in her original clothes.

"Alright, your turn," she said, shoving a pile of clothes into his arms before stepping past him.

He gave the selection a glance. Nothing ridiculous, thankfully. Dark shirts, fitted jackets, slacks that actually looked like they belonged to a functioning member of society. Some of it was expensive.

Mio smirked. "Come on, horror movie hobo. Time to see if you can look like an actual person."

Sandatsu sighed but didn't argue, stepping into the changing room. He was built for violence, every muscle defined in a way that made his usual tattered aesthetic work for him. But that didn’t mean he had to look like some cryptid dragged out of an alley.

The first thing he tried on was a fitted black dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to the forearms, tucked into slim black pants with a matching belt. When he stepped out, Mio was already seated on a bench, phone in hand. She glanced up, blinked, then smirked. "Wowww, you almost look human!"

Sandatsu ignored her, adjusting the cuffs. Mio stood, stepping closer and standing on the tips of her toes to smooth the fabric over his chest before giving an approving nod. "Yeah, if you ever need to commit a high-profile assassination at a gala, this is the look."

She tugged at his hair. "Now tie this back."

He did, pulling the long, wild strands into a loose, low ponytail. The blue streak at the front still stood out, but his face was clearer.

"Holy shit. So you do have a jawline under all that hair." Mio tilted her head. "You almost look like a normal person. I hate it."

"Too bad," he deadpanned, undoing the hair tie and ruffling his hair back to its usual chaos before heading back in for the next outfit.

The new look was paired with a deep blue fitted button-up and dark slacks, something that actually made him look like a functional member of society instead of a war criminal cosplaying as a Halloween specter.

"You know, it’s honestly fucking disturbing how decent you clean up," Mio muttered, tapping her fingers against her arm.

Sandatsu turned slightly, checking himself out in the mirror. "What can I say, I'm perfect like that."

Mio snorted.

He unbuttoned the shirt, tossing it aside. This time, he swapped into something more casual: an open leather jacket over a plain white tee, with dark jeans and combat boots. His usual chaotic look was gone, replaced by something that made him seem like some delinquent heartthrob out of a movie. The kind of guy who’d roll up on a motorcycle, wreck your life, and not even feel bad about it. Pretty close to what he'd done to her, except the motorcycle.

Mio looked him up and down, lips pursed. "Ugh, no. This is even more wrong than your usual edginess."

He got to the next outfit, a simple black turtleneck. She had him try slicking his hair back entirely, and that was the one that made her pause. "This is so fucking annoying. You’re not supposed to look good. It throws everything off."

"I’ll try harder to be an eyesore next time," he deadpanned.

Their conversation drifted while he changed through more outfits, some serious, some just to mess around.

"You know, it's almost common knowledge how every so often, one of the older pros gets cocky and tries to pull something on the new blood."

Sandatsu didn’t respond immediately. He’d already known where she was going with this.

"Most newcomers don’t get to avoid the bullshit I did. You wouldn’t believe the number of creeps who’ve tried to ‘mentor’ me, all with some fake-ass ‘let me guide you to success’ smile on their faces."

Sandatsu adjusted the collar of a high-collared coat and rolled his eyes. "I’d believe it."

"Like that one asshole who wanted me to 'team up' with him. What was his name? Doesn't matter. He 'died' in a car accident a while ago."

Sandatsu buttoned his shirt. "Tragic."

She smirked. "Yeah, real shame. And that bitch who tried to dig up dirt on me for blackmail? On me of all people? Off on an extended vacation for 'mental health reasons.'"

He didn’t bother commenting on that one. He still had a few pieces of her stored in his freezer. Maybe he'd eat them when he returned.

"It's not all rotten," Mio admitted, stretching her arms above her head. "But the parts that are? Really fucking stink."

Sandatsu nodded, rolling up his sleeves again. "Good thing you have me, then."

She snorted, shaking her head. "Yeah. Lucky me."

It was no secret between them how they each used their influence for the sake of the other.

"And those are just the ones who were stupid enough to actually try something. I shut down plenty of them myself before it got that far."

She clicked her tongue, then smirked. "But hey, I can’t deny it’s working out for me. My popularity’s going up, I’m getting more interviews, and if things keep going this way, I might even get merch."

Sandatsu raised a brow at that. "You? On shirts and keychains?"

"Tch, obviously. The tragic survivor who escaped the Reaper, then rose to become a hero? That shit sells," she said with a lazy grin. "I might even write a book about it. People eat up survivor stories." she said. "Staying solo’s been the best decision I’ve made. No team drama, no agency politics, no scandals dragging my name down."

She swiped through her phone again. "Still, hero work itself is usually dull as hell. The exciting shit is rare. Most of my jobs are detective work, tracking down missing people, finding evidence that cops missed. The non-violent cases are my specialty since my quirk makes that easy."

"Just last week, some rich asshole tried to cover up an affair by bribing a whole security company to erase footage," she said, stretching her arms over her head. "Amateurs. I traced it all back in a couple hours."

"And what, his wife wanted proof?"

"Nah, the guy he was cheating with wanted leverage," she said with a smirk. "I don’t judge. Money’s money."

Sandatsu shook his head slightly and moved to grab another outfit, switching again. The changing room was getting filled with discarded clothes by now. As he adjusted a coat in the mirror, Mio watched him through half-lidded eyes, expression unreadable.

"What?" he asked without looking at her.

She tapped a finger against her cheek. "I was just thinking. I’m only as successful as I am because I am amazing like that. Makes you wonder how many heroes never even get the chance to be heroes because they don’t play the game right."

Sandatsu didn’t answer right away. He glanced at himself in the mirror one more time before speaking. "I don't really care, you managed and that's it."

Mio hummed in agreement, then leaned back. "Try the navy suit next. I wanna see if you can pull off ‘respectable.’"




With their shopping bags in hand, the two wandered through the streets. The breeze carried the scent of the ocean, salt and warmth mixing with the lingering smell of street food. Mio was idly scrolling through her phone, searching for hotels, while Sandatsu walked beside her carrying the bags.

"Tomorrow's my day off," Mio said casually, not looking up from her screen. "Thinking of getting a hotel room."

Sandatsu raised an eyebrow, shifting the bags in his hand. "Huh. The paranoid scheming gremlin planning ahead? How surprising."

She ended up picking a high-end hotel—not the best of the best, but definitely leaning on the expensive side.

She clicked her tongue. "Shut the fuck up."

Booking was quick, and before long, she was making her way up to the room, carrying barely anything besides her bag and the new clothes she bought. The room was sleek, minimalist, with a huge window overlooking the beach. The moment she stepped inside, she tossed her things onto the bed and let out a satisfied sigh.

Then, without any ceremony, a portal tore open in the air, and Sandatsu stepped through like it was the most normal thing in the world. He brought the rest of the bags with him, checking out the room before he shut the breach behind him.

"So? You picking a crowded beach or somewhere quieter?"

Mio sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off her shoes. "Crowded’s annoying, but it’s also easier to blend in. Quieter might be better, though."

Sandatsu didn’t argue. He absentmindedly rolled his neck. "You wanna get food before or after the beach?"

"After. Gotta work up an appetite."




Mio’s swimsuit was a bright yellow, frilly thing that looked more like something out of a vintage catalog than the usual streamlined swimwear people wore these days. She turned toward him.

The moment she did, he immediately crossed his arms over his bare chest like a scandalized maiden. "Easy with the lecherous gaze, woman," he said, dead serious. "You're gonna burn a hole through me staring like that."

Mio’s face contorted with disgust. "I wasn-" she started, but then she just gave up mid-sentence, exhaling sharply. "Go die."

That should have been the end of it, but of course, it wasn’t. Sandatsu was the one staring. He didn’t even bother to hide it. When she finally snapped, glaring at him, he just blinked at her in fake innocence while still very obviously doing it.

The bickering continued even as they left the hotel and made their way to the beach. It was crowded but not unbearably so.

But the thing was, neither of them (actually just her) were really the type to just go play in the water like a pair of dumbass kids, so they ended up just sunbathing instead. Or trying to.

It got boring pretty fast.

Mio was the first to snap. Lying around and doing nothing wasn’t exactly in her nature, so she decided to entertain herself the only way she knew how. It started subtly. She picked out a random couple walking along the shore, some thirty-somethings, holding hands, the picture of domestic bliss. A flick of her power, a little adjustment in their memories, and suddenly the woman remembered her boyfriend checking out some other girl. Whether it had actually happened or not didn’t matter. What mattered was that she believed it had.

The man, completely blindsided, was already fumbling for an explanation he wouldn’t be able to give.

Sandatsu exhaled a short laugh.

Mio grinned.

And with that, the floodgates were open. They prowled different beaches like a pair of demons in broad daylight, picking their marks carefully, setting up little moments of chaos like tripping dominos. Mio planted false memories, small but insidious. Someone remembering lending money that was never paid back, another suddenly recalling an offhand comment made in bad taste. Somewhere down the line, they got a guy to admit to cheating in front of his entire friend group. Another ended up storming away from her husband, screaming about how she “knew the truth now.” A lifeguard got slapped in the face.




Night had settled. The beach was behind them, and now Mio stood in a dimly lit alley, waiting. Sandatsu was, as usual, running on his own schedule, but she wasn’t concerned. When he finally showed up, it was exactly how she expected: with their next target in tow.

The woman stood frozen. Platinum blonde hair curled in waves. Navy dress, pristine and custom-fitted. The woman couldn’t even react properly. Not her fault though. Her mind was blank, memories getting erased the moment they formed, keeping her paralyzed.

“Alright,” she said, “how’d you do it this time?”

Sandatsu stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Talked to her.”

Mio’s brow twitched. “No, seriously.”

“I’m serious.” He gave the woman a passing glance.

Mio scoffed, tilting her head as she continued sifting through the woman’s past. “So you’re telling me you acted like a normal person for once? Just some smooth, well-spoken motherfucker? And yet with me, you’re just a bumbling, annoying fucking dumbass?”

Sandatsu raised a brow. “Would you prefer I acted like that with you?”

Mio casually scrolled through the woman’s past, humming to herself as if choosing a song from a playlist.

She imagined it for a split second—him speaking all suave, voice low, eyes focused, words chosen carefully, hitting the right psychological points, all that smooth, manipulative charisma directed at her. She felt immediate secondhand cringe and dropped the topic.

“Nah, kill yourself,” she muttered, flicking through more memories. Then she grinned, her fingers pausing. “Oh, jackpot.”

The woman’s pristine reputation was, of course, just a front. There was always something underneath. And this one? A goldmine.

“Let’s see,” Mio muttered, flipping through the mental images like a highlight reel. “Classic nepotism stuff, using daddy’s money to bulldoze through competitors… oh, would you look at that? Hired a guy to intimidate an ex-boyfriend when he was about to go public about something shady. How romantic. Oh, this one’s my favorite, drunk driving incident covered up with a fat stack of cash, even though some poor bastard ended up in a coma. Love that for you.”

Sandatsu gave a low whistle. “Real piece of work.”

Mio grinned, transferring the juiciest details straight to her phone as well. “Yeah, this is prime blackmail material. No need to get creative. This is already wrapped with a neat little bow.”

Then she released the memory block.

The woman jolted like someone had just punched her in the gut. Her wide, terrified eyes flicked between them, confusion morphing into horror as everything crashed down at once. Mio didn’t give her time to process it properly.

“Alright, sweetheart,” she said brightly, “we’ve got some business to discuss.”

The woman stammered, mouth opening and closing. Mio just watched her squirm, letting the reality of her situation set in.

“Now, normally, I’d go through a whole speech about how fucked you are and how you have no way out, but I think you’re smart enough to put that together on your own.” Mio’s grin widened. “So let’s skip to the part where you make me very happy.”




The restaurant was as high-end as the hotel. Dim lighting, clean wood tables, soft background music that neither of them cared about. The food, though—that was what mattered. Sandatsu had something bloody and rare in front of him, a thick slab of steak that still wept juices with every bite. He ate with the efficiency of someone who didn’t really give a damn about savoring food but still enjoyed tearing into it. Mio, on the other hand, had a much neater, more refined dish. Some kind of seafood pasta, elegant presentation, light seasoning. She stabbed at it absentmindedly while prodding at conversation topics between bites.

She wore a sleek black dress, the neckline sharp but not scandalous. Across from her, Sandatsu was in a dark blue button-up, sleeves lazily rolled up to his forearms, hair down as usual but less wild, almost like he had given a half-hearted attempt at combing it, because Mio had forbidden him from slicking it back. He had rolled his eyes at her, but she didn't explain herself, just said, "Not allowed," and that was that. It wasn’t like she was going to admit the sight of it messed with her a little too much.. The new clothes actually made him look like someone functional, maybe even someone respectable

“So, what’s next for you?”

Sandatsu shrugged, chewing slowly. “Dunno.”

Mio gave him a look. “Very insightful.”

He flicked his gaze up at her. “Just been thinking. Feels like the underworld is... Nah, I don't know.”

She didn’t react much to that, just hummed. “Yeah? You gonna turn yourself in? Become someone's lackey?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then whatever. You’ll figure it out.” She honestly didn’t care. If anything, she liked how he operated now—unhinged but competent, dangerous but direct. It worked for him. But she wasn’t about to coddle his little existential crisis.

The conversation shifted, because Mio was more interested in bitching about people she hated than analyzing Sandatsu’s mind.

“The top rankings are a fucking joke,” she said, swirling her drink in one hand. “Yamamoto should’ve stayed in the damn retirement home.”

Sandatsu snorted. “Not that old, is he?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t care. Feels like he should be.”

He shook his head, amused. “Anyone else pissing you off?”

“Fucking Charybdis.” She shuddered, rubbing her arms. “I swear to god, if I have to see that creep on a magazine cover again, I’ll puke. Guy gives me the worst kind of vibes.”

Sandatsu smirked but let her keep going, because once Mio got started, there was no stopping her.

“Rosethorn’s another one,” she said, rolling her eyes. "I had to see her smug ass every day back in school, and now I having to collab with her? It’s like the universe is fucking with me. Can't you kill her next time you see her?”

Sandatsu chuckled. “We'll see.”

“Ugh.” She took another sip of her drink, then set it down with a click of glass against wood. “Speaking of, guess who’s been trying to get in contact with me?”

He looked at her, waiting.

“Endeavor’s agency.”

Sandatsu’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Huh.”

“Yeah. Guess he really wants you.”

“Romantic.”

Mio snorted. “Bet he’s losing his shit over the fact that I won’t talk to them.”

“You could, y’know. Feed them bullshit. Lead them in circles.”

She tapped a finger against the table. “Tempting. But I don’t really wanna deal with them.”

He didn’t push. If she wanted to mess with them, she would. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t. Either way, it wasn’t his problem.

The walk back to the hotel was lazy, comfortable in the way only two people completely at ease with their own toxicity could be.

Now, standing out on the hotel balcony, the two of them leaned against the railing, watching the streets below.

I fucking hate people,” Mio muttered, chin resting against her folded arms. “Every single one of them. Freaks, cowards, ass-kissers, all of them.”

Sandatsu made a low noise of agreement. "Good thing I'm not a person then."

She huffed out something between a laugh and a scoff, shaking her head.




Something was wrong.

Sandatsu blinked, slow, heavy. The warmth of the hotel was gone, replaced by a stiff chill against his skin. His eyes adjusted. Concrete. Open space. Lights in the distance.

Where?

His heartbeat hammered against his ribs. His body felt stiff, unfamiliar in a way it hadn’t in a long time. The weight of his cape settled against him. He was wearing his costume. He wasn’t in the hotel. He wasn’t even in Hawaii.

His breath came sharp. His first instinct was to breach out of there, to move, to get his bearings, but as he raised his hand, nothing happened.

Nothing.

The spotlights in the distance cut through the darkness. Then the realization hit. He was outside.

The phrase rattling in the back of his mind like a death sentence.

"The Special Wild Hunt Taskforce can reach any point in Japan within sixty seconds."

How long had it been?

His gaze snapped around, looking for an escape. The runways stretched out before him, massive and empty, but it wouldn’t be for long. If Breach wasn’t working, he had to move—

A shift in the air.

Heat.

His body turned on instinct. Fire. A wall of it, roaring toward him, searing bright against the night.

Sixty seconds indeed.

His body braced, but something in him knew. It wasn't about the fire. It was something he was feeling inside.

This hadn’t happened in a long, long time. He hadn't felt like this.

Like he was dissolving.

Edit Report
Pub: 08 Feb 2025 18:19 UTC
Edit: 09 Feb 2025 11:34 UTC
Views: 124