PLASTIC FLOWERS ( k. bakugou )

chapter 13

' begin again '

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"What's your name?" the youth asks as she watches the odd teenager sitting on the couch. He looked... startling, for a lack of a better word. Saggy, pale skin, disheveled light blue hair, striking eyes, a skinny stature but what would catch the attention of onlookers was the severed hand pasted to his face.

"This is Tenko Shimura," Tomoe began in that icy voice of his, speaking instead of the odd teenager. He was obviously older than the youth, five years of six years give or take. "My brother."

"You don't look alike," was the only thing the youth said, eyes still pinned on the strange man playing something in the strange handheld gaming device. The youth was a child of poverty, never having the experience of wielding objects with the purpose of entertainment.

"We're actually just raised together, but brothers is what we go by," Tomoe simply said, response ambiguous, sitting next to his brother. "Take a seat. Sensei will be here soon."

The youth, cautious, took the chartreuse divan far away from them. Tomoe was a source of fear with his power of course, but Tenko— there was something about Tenko that was oddly horrifying. A monster in training, she thought. So much like her, but an ingenue at best.

(It also didn't help that she's been trying to escape for weeks now and it's been nothing but failure. She's exhausted beyond reason, so she submits.)

And watching Tenko play that game with an odd sort of fascination, and no regard for the buttons, he looked even more twisted. A child, much younger than the youth was trapped in this man's body. She felt disgust crawl up her spine.

Speaking of disgust, nothing was probably more disgusting than the man who walked through the door, suit clean cut and made exactly for his size. Sadly, it did not ameliorate his appearance. Protruding flesh colored veins covered the upper half of his face, his nose, eyes and forehead and only his mouth was the only thing that could make him count as human.

"I brought her, sensei," Tomoe said and the man slowly turned his horrifying head at her direction.

The youth had grown up in a revolting environment, had eaten garbage and leftovers to survive, skipped a thousand of baths because she had no water, but his face, the abomination of a face and all the hideous thorny stories it carried, his face frightened her.

The youth was also vaguely aware of the darkness that permeated from him. It was wretched in all senses— tasted like the most foul tasting food, sounded like cacophony of a thousand discordant voices, felt like the thorny brambles that grated, scratched and drew blood, looked like the flesh, muscles and bones gilded together and covered with a putrid black liquid and its scent was the scent of a thousand half wilting roses, death and life mixed together. Even Tomoe— the boy whose demons lurked on every shadow— and Tenko, prince of darkness, broken, battered and betrayed seemed to show respect towards him.

Tomoe had his head down and Tenko— whatever Tenko had, she could feel that he cared for the man.

"I see."

The youth thought it was a poorly made jest. I see. As if he could, at his damaged face and skin covered eyes, a blind man could probably see better.

"The reports made her out to be... unimpressive," the man said, taking a seat in front of the youth. "Mistakes cannot really be avoided in this field of work."