Girl Talk

"Rina, it's been too long," Kaori greeted, her voice tinged with an air of forced cheerfulness.

Rina reciprocated the smile, though her eyes betrayed a subtle struggle. "Yeah, it really has. How've you been?"

The creaking door swung open, revealing a modest apartment that bore the unmistakable scent of cheap detergent and worn-out furniture. Kaori, her face hidden beneath layers of bandages, offered a faint smile as she welcomed her friend Rina inside.

The apartment, a small space burdened with the weight of financial constraints, spoke volumes about Kaori's circumstances. Faded wallpaper adorned the walls, and threadbare furniture bore the scars of time. The air within held a faint mustiness that clung to the worn-out fabric of the apartment.

Rina, unable to quell her concern, finally ventured carefully, "Kaori, what happened to your face? And your hands? Has he been hitting you again?"

Kaori's eyes flickered with a momentary shadow, but she shrugged nonchalantly, a feeble attempt to downplay the severity of her injuries. "Oh, just a little accident. Nothing to worry about, really."

Rina's skepticism lingered. Her concern deepened, etching lines of worry on her face as Kaori dismissed the idea of her husband's violence. After pressing for answers, Kaori finally gave in.

She led Rina into another room. Broken furniture lay scattered. Deep scratches marred the walls. In the center of the room stood a cradle, seemingly untouched by the chaos surrounding it. Yet, upon closer inspection, Rina's eyes widened with disbelief and horror. The cradle bore countless bitemarks.

Curiosity mixed with trepidation, Rina's gaze was drawn to the occupant of the cradle – a baby, its tiny form wrapped in a torn blanket. Her little hands and mouth are hastily covered with layers of duct tape. The infant has a scaled tail, reminiscent of that of a reptile. She lay motionless, sleeping peacefully, as if the bindings did not bother her at all.

"This is my child, Rina," Kaori said, her voice filled with sorrow and desperation. "My dear Hitomi."



The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the kindergarten playground. Little Hitomi Hiromi, now a bundle of energy and scales, reveled in the simple joys of the sandbox. Her small hands worked diligently, shaping and molding the sand into a magnificent castle.

Around her, the laughter of other children filled the air as they played games, swung on swings, and chased each other.

In their enthusiasm, one of the children accidentally stepped on a corner of Hitomi's sandcastle. The delicate creation crumbled under the weight of tiny shoes, reducing her work to a formless pile.

The apology was swift, a chorus of small voices expressing regret for the unintentional destruction. Hitomi, however, felt a spark bubbling within her. The apology reached her ears, but the understanding failed to penetrate the barrier of her growing discontent.

A low growl rumbled from Hitomi's small form. The other children took a cautious step back.

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, Hitomi lunged forward.

The kindergarten teacher, alerted by the commotion, rushed to the scene.



Muffled sounds of discussion emanated from within the Quirk Counseling office. Hiromi, her small form perched on a plastic chair in the hallway, swung her legs absentmindedly.

Inside the office, Kaori, Hiromi's mother, sat across from the Quirk Counselor, a middle-aged woman with a calming demeanor. The counselor, Mrs. Tanaka, shuffled through some papers, glancing at notes that detailed the peculiarities of Hiromi's quirk and the recent incident at the kindergarten.

Mrs. Tanaka, choosing her words carefully, began to explain that children with strong quirks often displayed behaviors influenced by the nature of their abilities. She emphasized the importance of counseling to help Hiromi understand and control her quirk-driven impulses. It was a normal part of growing up with such unique powers.

However, Kaori's expression remained stern, her frustration evident. "Normal?" she retorted sharply. "My daughter bit off two fingers of another kid. That's not normal. It's not right. I don't think counseling can fix whatever is wrong with her."

Mrs. Tanaka nodded understandingly, her eyes reflecting empathy. "I know this is challenging for you, Mrs. Hiromi. But we're here to help Hitomi manage her emotions and her quirk. It's essential for her development."

Kaori's gaze hardened, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Development? She's not developing into anything close to a normal person. All this time, she has only been getting worse. I don't even know if counseling can help something like her."

Mrs. Tanaka, though experienced in dealing with quirk-related issues, couldn't deny the gravity of the situation.



The air was thick with dust, and the only sounds were the distant hum of the city and the soft creaks of the old building. Unbeknownst to the injured villain seeking refuge in the dilapidated warehouse, the shadows concealed a resident who called this desolate place home.

Hitomi Hiromi stirred from her makeshift nest in the corner, nestled among old crates and forgotten debris. The scales on her arms shimmered under the dim light filtering through the grimy windows. With a languid stretch of her powerful limbs, she awoke, her crocodilian tail unfurling and thumping against the dusty floor. Even though she was still in her early teens, her height and build were larger than those of most adults.

As Hiromi yawned, revealing her sharp teeth, the injured villain stumbled upon her presence. With two large chainsaws clutched in his hands, he eyed the imposing figure of the young girl before him. In his compromised state, the warehouse had seemed like the perfect hideout – a sanctuary where he could lick his wounds, recover his strength, and plot his escape from the pursuing heroes.

"Who the hell are you?" The villain growled, his tone attempting to mask the unease flickering in his eyes. The predatory gleam in Hitomi's gaze intensified as she regarded the intruder.

"This is my turf," she replied with casual indifference, her voice carrying a low, rumbling quality.

"Don't move, and shut the fuck up, girl. I'm not in the mood for games," he threatened, the chainsaws buzzing threateningly.

Hitomi's eyes narrowed, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "You stumbled into my territory, waving those toys around. You've got guts; I'll give you that..." With a sudden burst of speed, Hitomi lunged at the villain, her tail snapping forward like a whip. "...You piece of meat!"

The tackle was brutal, both in strength and speed. The chainsaws clattered to the ground as he stumbled backward, a mixture of fear and pain etched across his face. Hitomi stood over him, a predator surveying its prey.

"Now, chump, think real hard about whether you want to play games with me," she snarled, her reptilian features twisted into a menacing grin. The injured villain, fueled by panic, quickly grabbed his chainsaws and started swinging them to try and fend the beast off.



The heroes, having tracked the ominous presence to the desolate warehouse, stood on edge. The air grew thick with tension as they exchanged glances, their instincts warning them of impending danger. However, an even more foreboding sensation gripped their senses – the unmistakable scent of blood, metallic and overpowering.

As the heroes hesitated, uncertain of what lurked within, the rhythmic revving of chainsaws echoed from the darkness within the warehouse.

The heavy metal door creaked open, revealing the monstrous silhouette of Hitomi Hiromi. Drenched in blood, her once-scaled form now eclipsed by the grotesque aftermath of a violent encounter, she emerged from the shadows, carrying the bloodied chainsaws of the vanquished villain.

The injuries inflicted upon her had triggered a monstrous evolution, turning her into a nightmarish embodiment of primal power. Her already towering frame had grown more muscular, scales had expanded, and quills protruded menacingly from her arms. Her teeth were sharper, her claws longer, and her entire visage exuded an aura of savagery.

The heroes, confronted with this abomination, felt a chill run down their spines. She roared, a guttural and animalistic sound that barely resembled anything human.



Mio stood on the balcony of her room, surrounded by the towering peaks of the mountains, but her mind was far from the breathtaking scenery.

She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the overwhelming weight of her situation. The chill in the air seemed to seep into her bones, matching the cold realization that she was treading on dangerous ground. Mio, a mere third-year student, found herself entangled with S-Class villains and other dangerous criminals, orchestrating a plan that had grown beyond her control.

She entered the room behind her. Papers and maps were scattered across the table, detailing the intricate web of alliances, rivalries, and power dynamics among the criminals that would be present at the Gala. Mio's head throbbed with the complexity of it all.

She paced the room, fingers running through her disheveled hair. Mio had been so consumed by the chaos of her plans that the gravity of her actions only now began to sink in. She was surrounded by psychopaths and killers who would turn on her in a heartbeat if it served their interests.

She needed rest. The kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights, offered a temporary escape from the mess that occupied her room.

As she approached the kettle, she glanced toward the common area, spotting Feral sprawled on a sofa. She lounged with an almost regal indifference.

Mio's mind couldn't help but replay the bizarre scene where Feral, with the audacity that defined her, had kissed a near-lifeless Sandatsu. The memory invoked a visceral reaction in Mio, a mixture of revulsion and incredulity.

'Bitch'

Mio, now pondering those recollections, found herself labeling Feral with a choice expletive she dared not voice aloud.

Mio's mental tirade came to an abrupt halt. The pink-eyed beast, seemingly indifferent to Mio's inner thoughts, interrupted the cascade of memories with a casual remark.

"Planning going well?" Feral's voice, an unsettling blend of nonchalance and curiosity, cut through the air. Mio, momentarily startled, swiftly recovered and offered a measured nod.

"Yeah, things are falling into place," Mio replied, the words laced with a deceptive calm. She studied Feral, her eyes narrowing slightly as she gauged the woman's reaction. She had, admittedly, pegged Feral as more of a brute whose actions followed instinct rather than meticulous planning. The fact that she had shown an interest in their scheme caught Mio off guard.

However, Feral's response, delivered with a matter-of-fact tone, shattered Mio's preconceived notions. "I know what you're thinking. You're surprised I even care about your plan."

Caught off guard again, Mio's hand absently traced the rim of her teacup as she tried to find the right answer. Her headache made it more difficult, however.

"I might be a brute," Feral admitted, her eyes glinting like molten gold, "but that doesn't mean I can't think ahead when needed. Sometimes, you gotta plan to survive."

Mio couldn't deny the truth in Feral's words. A certain cunning lurked beneath the surface of the villain. She also glimpsed Feral through Sandatsu's memories and read about her crimes in the government files about her.

"Right. Then do your job as a big sister and keep that blue retard in check," said Mio.

"Oh? So you want me to act like a big sis now? Sure..." Hitomi answered, grinning.



The oppressive weight of planning and the perpetual tension of dealing with villains clung to Mio like a suffocating shroud. A desperate need for respite gripped her, compelling her to escape the claustrophobic confines of the ski resort for a brief moment. In her quest for a reprieve, however, the reality of the perilous situation dawned upon her—she was not supposed to venture out alone.

An exasperated sigh escaped Mio's lips as she contemplated her predicament. The absence of Ookami, who was currently on an errand with Ivan, left her with an unexpected companion—Feral herself. Mio's initial reluctance to have Feral tag along echoed in the subtle crease of her brow.

The town they chose for their brief escape wasn't that far from the ski resort. The town's square was adorned with a scattering of benches, inviting passersby to pause and soak in the understated charm of the surroundings. Mio and Feral chose a secluded bench, a vantage point that allowed them to observe without being conspicuous.

The town's square was adorned with a scattering of benches, inviting passersby to pause and soak in the understated charm of the surroundings. Mio and Feral, however, chose a secluded bench, a vantage point that allowed them to observe without being conspicuous.

Mio, opting for a nondescript ensemble, wore a charcoal-gray hoodie that hugged her form without drawing undue notice. A pair of faded jeans and practical sneakers completed the ensemble.

Beside her, Feral donned a weathered leather jacket. Under it, she wore a simple black turtleneck that clung to her voluptuous curves. Dark jeans and sturdy boots completed the look, giving her an air of rugged defiance.

The chill in the air was tangible, visible in the wisps of breath that escaped from their lips as Mio sat in awkward silence. Feral, seemingly indifferent to the internal struggle Mio faced, observed the surroundings with a bored expression.

Whenever she delved into Feral's memories, all she found was a gruesome collage of carnage, with no foothold for understanding. It was her worst nightmare—someone who genuinely didn't care about anything or anyone else. With a single exception.

"Why do you still follow him?" Mio inquired, her voice a subdued echo in the quiet square. Her azure eyes, flickering with a hint of frustration, locked onto Feral's piercing gaze.

Feral, nonchalant as ever, leaned back on the bench, her posture a testament to the casual defiance that defined her. The shadows played on her features, and her pink eyes reflected a detachment that bordered on indifference. Without a shred of shame, Feral answered, "I like him."

The simplicity of her response struck Mio like a sudden gust of wind—unexpected and jarring. It wasn't the answer she anticipated, and annoyance surged within her like an unwelcome guest. She fought to keep her composure, the subtle tightening of her jaw betraying the storm of thoughts brewing beneath the surface.

"Why?" He cut both your arms off." Mio retorted, her words edged with both surprise and vexation. She expected a more profound reason, a complex web of motivations that justified Feral's loyalty.

Feral's gaze, unyielding and direct, met Mio's. "He's strong," she said, the words hanging in the chilled air. "Not just physically. He's got something else."

"Is that all?" Mio asked, a blend of incredulity and irritation tainting her tone.

Feral shrugged, an unconcerned ripple in the fabric of their conversation. "What else do you need? He's strong, and that's all my instincts care about."

"Are you serious?" Mio asked again, her tone etched with incredulity.

"Dead serious," she affirmed, her words devoid of hesitation.

"You went into hiding," Mio mused, her mind tracing the timeline of Feral's absence and resurgence, now understanding the reason behind her resurgence. "So it's all because of instinct?"

Feral nodded. "Yeah. It's just physical, though. Like every cell on my body is drawn towards him. If it's about personal preference then I'd even say that you're much more my type."

Mio's reaction, a volatile concoction of disbelief and frustration, surged forth with a torrent of expletives as she nearly choked on her coffee.

"What the hell did you just say?" Mio sputtered, her blue-tipped blonde hair catching the glint of streetlights as she recoiled in shock.

Feral, lounging on the bench with an air of nonchalance, simply shrugged. "I said, I'd go for someone like you if it weren't for my quirk."

Feral, seemingly unfazed by Mio's linguistic onslaught, grinned. "Yeah. You're smart, cruel and cunning. That's attractive."

Mio, her face contorted with a mixture of disbelief, irritation and disgust, fired back with a barrage of insults. "You're a degenerate. Who in their right mind would want someone like you? You should be grateful I didn't have that asshole kill you."

The crocodilian woman leaned back against the bench, her tail coiling beneath her. "You're really on edge, little empress." Feral mused, her tone languid.

Mio, her anger simmering beneath the surface, shot Feral a withering glance. "It's because I'm sick of dealing with deranged psychos like you."

Feral merely grinned, revealing her sharp teeth. "So, little empress, ever do anything specific with him to unwind? You know, let off some steam together?"

"Why?"

"I figured we could use our time in town to relax. You know, before you go back to frying your brain planning at the resort."

Mio's mind involuntarily rewound to some vivid memories – the festival, when she and Sandatsu had blackmailed a random pervert. And their first 'date', if it could even be called that.

Feral, seemingly intrigued by Mio's silence, leaned closer, her tail flicking idly. "I bet you two had a blast."

"The only thing that would help me relax right now is you getting out of my sight and dying in a ditch somewhere far away." she took a deep breath "But I still need you for the gala."

After a brief moment of contemplation, Mio's expression shifted from stern resolve to something resembling amusement.

"You know what? Maybe there's some merit in your idea of having a bit of fun," Mio said, a sly smile playing on her lips. She added a new memory in Feral's mind. Directions to a specific location where they were to meet. It was a secluded spot, away from prying eyes, yet close enough to the heart of the city for them to carry out their plan.

"Remember, bring someone who looks weak."



The door swung open, and they stepped into the warm, well-lit atmosphere of the common area. The ski resort welcomed back the unusual duo of Feral and Mio, their laughter echoing through the halls as they regaled each other with tales of the night's exploits.

"You're telling me he brought a kid?"

Mio nodded. "Yeah, can you imagine? What a retard, I ask for someone weak and he kidnaps a child. It's like he didn't think it through at all! Selling the kid was a bother, so I just let him go."

Feral's laughter echoed through the hallways. As they strolled further into the ski resort, Drekus emerged from the kitchen. He was clad in a frilly pink apron. His voice rumbled like distant thunder as he greeted them, "Drekus happy to see Mio and Big Sis back."

Mio rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we're back."

Drekus proudly presented his creation, "Drekus make quesadillas. Very tasty."

"KATSURAGI-SAMA!" Ookami rushed towards Mio, hugging her, petting her and causing Mio's smile to disappear completely.

"Alright, Ookami, that's enough. Give me some space."

Ookami reluctantly backed off, giving Mio a bit of breathing room. She looked around, her keen eyes catching the interaction between Feral and Mio. "Hey, Drekus, when did those two get so chummy?" she asked, nodding towards Feral and Mio.

Drekus, flipping quesadillas with practiced ease, grunted in response. "Mio and Big Sis Feral have fun together. Girl talk and evil deeds. Very strong."

"But I want to have a girls' talk with Katsuragi-sama too..."

Drekus chuckled heartily "Girls' talk? Little devil no see Ookami as girl. Ookami just loyal lapdog."

Ookami twitched, and she shot a disgruntled look at Drekus. "I'm a girl too! Calling me lapdog is a bit much."

Before Ookami could launch into a full-blown complaint, Mio, who had been lounging on the couch, interrupted her. "Oi, Ookami. Tea."

Ookami's eyes light up with devotion, and she responds with utmost infatuation, "Right away, Katsuragi-sama!"

And off she went to bring tea to her master like the lapdog she was

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Pub: 06 Feb 2024 04:17 UTC
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