Red Ink

Part 54 - Final Words

Eijirou stared at himself in the mirror— or rather, he stared at The Prince in the mirror.

The CC mask did its job wonderfully, as it always did. There was only the tiniest hint of a blue shimmer across his body indicating the hologram, but other than that, it was nearly impossible to tell that any illusion was there. His hair was jet black, his voice was distorted, and when he twisted to look at his back in the mirror, it was like the branded sigil of the doves—and the tattoo covering it— had never happened.

He didn't like it. Kirishima had grown quite fond of the intricate red sun on his back. Usually, putting on the mask was an escape from the rigid, unforgiving life of hero work. It didn't feel like that this time; instead, it felt like a lie. A lie he was keeping from Red, from Bakugou, from Tink, from everyone he cared about, really.

The quiet radio hummed in the corner of his hotel room. In a few hours he would be smack in the middle of the Event Sector arena, standing under the spotlight that half the country would have their eyes trained on. It drew in more views than any other publicized event in Japan— save for maybe the UA Sports Festival and the Hero Rankings.

God, he felt awful. He couldn't count the number of girls he'd come to this Underground hotel with as the Prince, but now the thought of it just made him sick.

Everything he was doing— lying to Red, lying to Katsuki, lying to the Underground about who he was— he barely used to think about it. It was different now, though. Being the Prince wasn't an escape anymore; it felt more like he'd gotten stuck in a hole he'd been digging for years. What would the Underground think if the man they'd been idolizing for years turned out to be a professional hero?

There was no point in chastising his past self for signing the contract, but he did anyway. With a deep sigh he took a seat on the edge of the bed and slipped off the mask, setting it beside him.

Signing that paper was one of the worst mistakes of his life. He didn't realize it at the time; he was much too consumed with petty anger and didn't even think to learn more about the contract. All he was thinking at the time was how angry he was at Bakugou.

It felt so silly now. Whatever that argument had been, it wasn't worth this. It wasn't worth keeping secrets from his best friends and the girl he loved. But what choice did he have?

Not to mention how fucking ridiculous an Event Sector match sounded right now. There was a bombing only a few days ago, but the internet and the media were flooded with pure excitement for the stupid finals. It was like no one cared. People were dead, the heroes were on the verge of invading the Underground in search for the Doves, and no one cared. It was all just glamor and fanaticism for a damn sparring match.

This used to be fun, but now, how could it be? He knew too much. All the glitter and dazzle had faded for him after learning the truth about the Underground; after Red. People were scared, and what was he doing? Putting on a damn show for the cameras.

His heart ached in his chest, so he did the only reasonable thing he could think of: he pulled out his phone and tapped Red's contact, then held it to his cheek while he gnawed at his lip in anticipation.

"Hi, Eiji." Her voice was gentle and light, as it always was, and even just the sound melted away a bit of that painful ache.

"Hi, angel," he said, his voice a bit gravelly from lack of sleep. He said goodbye to her in the Commons only yesterday, but it already felt like it was months ago. Whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder hit the nail right on the head.

"How's Osaka treating you?"

Right. He told her he was in Osaka for a 'mission' with Dynamight Agency. The reminder tightened his throat but he nodded to himself. "It's alright. Missin' you, though. How's the Commons?"