𝘽𝙉𝙃𝘼 𝙓 𝘽𝙎𝘿 -----------------------------------------------------
➸𝙄𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨, 𝙞 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪
➸A REALITY IN WHICH
a suicidal girl strives to become hero
right after she associated with the villains.
How ironic.
»vari...
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"I'm a fool who's learned to do one trick and does it again and again." —————————————————————————
"Odasaku...could you...put away the gun?"
"..."
"Odasaku, listen to me! I—"
"Don't call me Odasaku. There's no reason for an enemy to address me in that way."
————
(Y/N) suddenly jolts awake, sitting bolt upright and desperately wiping away the tears that are running down her face as she does so.
"A dream," she muttered to herself, "just a dream. It's not real."
That's right, it was a dream. A nightmare. (Y/N) couldn't believe she was getting so worked up about something so insignificant. For the love of god, she was a hero and a detective! She couldn't possibly be shaken to her very core by anything as little as a recollection.
Thankfully, she's in her dorm at U.A. She couldn't be happier that it's nighttime and everyone is asleep. It was just her awake. Awake and alone—
She wasn't alone.
(Y/N) stops moving as she slowly turns her head and notices a black shadow in the far corner of her room.
There was complete silence, with the exception of the faint sound of her chest being expanded and contracted.
(Y/N) makes a deliberate effort to put her hand on the bedside table where she normally keeps her gun, but it is not there. Instead, it was across the room on the opposite side.
Her brain overrides.
There was not a single sound or movement. (Y/N) desired to act, make a statement, or engage in any activity. However, she remained still as ice. Even if she had the willpower to move her limbs, she was unable to do it.
Despite the exhaustion that weighs her bones down, (Y/N) jumps up snatched a knife that was nearby, ready to strike in mere seconds. Yet, she immediately knows that she doesn't need to attack. So many things betray the night visitor's identity, especially to her heightened senses. The girl hears a faint rustling sound coming from the garment, and she realizes very quickly that it is a trench coat.
The silhouette is familiar, long legs and a slim body with the lazy self-assuredness inherent in every step. And the unmistakable scent, the ever-present hint of sake mixed with the memory of too many cups of coffee.
