ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪs ɪᴅɪᴏᴄʏ ;; 𝘉𝘕𝘏𝘈

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ;;

Rehabilitation.

She still couldn't believe it, rehabilitation? After everything she had done?

When people speak of rehabilitation, it is often in reference to those who commit bad, yet redeemable crimes. It's for people with addictions who need treatment as opposed to hard jail time, violent offenders who need counselling and psychological help, youths who have potential but are just going down the wrong path.

It wasn't however for violent serial assaulters whom at some point was on the way to becoming the most dangerous person in Japan.

Himiko Toga knew heroes were stupid, they were happy-go-lucky optimists who believed the world could be molded into their own perfect little utopia where wrong and evil do not exist. It amused her, for she wasn't going to change, what was there to change? She was – is – an evil, evil villain, and as she stood there, donning the uniform typical of a U.A student, she told herself that she was going to be that until the day she died.

She stared herself down in the mirror, eyes the same bright amber they had always been, blonde hair left to flow as opposed to being tied up as usual. Her bags, heavy and dark, showing no signs of leaving any time soon.

The blonde put on her charming, cute smile, the same smile she used to lure in unsuspecting victims alleyways before shoving a knife deep into their abdomen. The same smile she used to garner sympathy and good nature points from those who had the power to send her to be hung, the same smile that an entire nation had now decided was the trademark of a dormant, yet devastating monster.

She sort of missed being an unidentified fugitive, things were more lucrative back then. Nobody had a name or face to put to her, just the fact that she lured men in after taking the form of some beautiful woman who's blood she'd stolen, only to then stab them to the point of near death, consume large portions of their blood before fleeing the scene. She was seen as a monster, a demon, a legend. She had many nicknames, The Demon of Masutafu, The Bloody Seductress, The Moonlight Slayer, but none she loved more than The Man-Killing Vampire of Masutafu. It was so simple, so effective. The people feared her, some even believing she was an actual demon and that praying to her and singing her songs would save their sons, husbands, brothers and more from becoming her next victims.

It gave her so much power, she was so powerful.

But then she slipped up, attacked some stupid U.A student that apprehended her and handed her over to the police. It wasn't long until the jig was up, and the whole of Japan finally knew who the sinister Man-Killing Vampire of Masutafu was. Many didn't believe it, the Man-Killing Vampire of Masutafu, killer of one and perpetrator of many violent life-threatening assaults, the same who drank her victims blood and left them to die in alleyways, was this petite, innocent looking young girl?

Though unable to cause any physical harm to people anymore, causing this much psychological confusion and harm in the people from behind bars was amusing.

She was sure she was going to die, she had killed a man and left hundreds, probably even thousands injured and permanently disabled or disfigured - although she was a minor, there was no doubt in her brain she was going to get the death penalty. She had no issues with this, she had lived a good life, and accomplished a good amount to where she had no issues being laid to rest. Sure, being buried nameless behind some underfunded prison wasn't exactly the perfect way to go, but beggars could not be choosers after all.

She had told her story to anyone willing to listen - maybe after her death she'd get an incredibly inaccurate dramatized movie/documentaries like those american serial killers - and didn't bother with showing fake remorse or shedding faux tears in order to get off. She had gotten a few psychiatric analyses' and was diagnosed with a couple of things, not that she paid enough attention to remember what exactly. Something about delusions and urges linked to her quirk, whatever, the nerds in white coats thought she was crazy, who cares.