Fly High, Burn Bright

Chapter 42

There was no doubt about it - though I'd only seen their face briefly, and they'd gotten older, their face more mature now, there was no way that it could've been anyone else. The bend of the nose was the same, the eyes still shone with the same murderous glint that I'd gotten used to seeing in myself. Even the cruel smile hadn't changed, and although they hadn't seen me just yet, my hands were already at my belts, unclipping the daggers from their holsters. The rage that I'd tried to hide away before swelled up, large and proud and unwilling to leave until I got my revenge not only for my sister now, but for Keigo, too. 

I didn't know what exactly their quirk was, but that didn't matter. I wouldn't be using my quirk for this. I would be facing them head-on, without any illusions to cloud their vision or to hide me, because I was stronger than them, and they deserved to feel the pain of knowing that they'd been defeated by someone who wasn't even using their quirk. I'd cut them into bits and carve the God-forsaken symbol into every piece of skin I could find until they were screaming in pure agony and begging for mercy. I'd make them regret ever touching Keigo, and I'd make them pay for every bit of damage they did to him in tenfold.

I stood calmly, silently, as I waited for them to notice me, finally noticing the small details about them. They had short dirty-blond hair that was slicked back into a loose bun at the back of their head that would look oh-so-good if it was drenched in their own blood, and steely gray eyes colder than my blades. Their body was large and muscular to the point that even Endeavor wouldn't look all that impressive beside them, and I smiled to myself, knowing damn well that I could beat them by relying on speed alone. For a villain that spent so long haunting me every other night, they sure looked pathetically weak. They weren't worthy of how much hatred I had for them, but that didn't matter. They'd pay for every single thing they've ever done.

They finally turned to me, cold gray eyes widening when they spotted me standing at the opening of the alley, completely relaxed even though I was only armed with two knives and a vial of poison, and they were easily twice my size. "Run along, little girl, and stop playing with knives" they sneered, lips drawn back to show gleaming white teeth. "Children like you could get hurt here."

I took one stop towards them, and then another, my pace calm and even until the gap between us was no more than five meters. "Tell me," I started, my voice barely a whisper , just loud enough for them to hear, "do you remember me? Or perhaps you remember a little boy with bright red wings?" When nothing but silence answered me, I flicked the dagger in my hand, tossing it up and catching it by the hilt after it performed three perfect flips in the air. "That'll be a no. Then how about the hero you slaughtered right before me?" Still no response, but I could see them trying to recall who I was. Then again, it'd been ten years, and although the murder had been devastating to me, it was probably an every-day sight to them.

Then, they suddenly looked up as if they finally remembered who I was. "You're that little girl from - what, nine years ago?" They almost snorted with laughter, and I had to stop myself from putting my knife through their throat right then and there. I still needed to know where Keigo was. "Turn around and pretend you never saw me, and I might just let you go." The villain smirked in satisfaction as I seethed in silent anger, purposefully pressing every single one of my buttons. "No wonder that moron of a hero looked familiar, with his overgrown wings."

In a flash, I was right in front of them, one dagger at their throat and the other near their diaphragm. "You're going to tell me where that moron of a hero is, and then maybe I'll give you the mercy of death." They smiled in response, no doubt wondering how I had the mere audacity to threaten them when I only reached their shoulder in height. 

"And what, pray tell, will you do if I refuse to tell you where your little boy toy is?" They shot back. 

"I'll make you wish you finished the job ten years ago," I hissed, digging the tip of the blade a little harder into their neck, but still not enough to draw blood in fear that if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop.

"Then by all means, go ahead." They shoved me backwards, sending me stumbling over a pile of bricks, and I fought to regain my balance before jumping back into a fighting stance. Despite the gravity of the situation, I grinned. It was their choice to attack me, so I had no reason to hold back. They made the first move. They started the fight. I couldn't be blamed for this, so there was no way I'd go easy on a murderer as bad as them

Just as I'd expected, the villain's massive body was perfect for strength but was slower than an ox. Now that the first move was made and we were standing on even ground, I was able to dodge around every single one of the attacks as if they were moving in slow motion. The fact that I'd just sprinted through countless alleys didn't even seem to matter - my body was still pumped up with adrenaline, and although I knew I'd be sore later, I moved faster than ever before. If they didn't want to tell me where Keigo was, so be it. I'd just force them to talk then, or perhaps they'll reconsider once they feel the sting of my blades.

Even with their quirk activated, they were a snail compared to me, and every single one of their attacks passed me almost as if it were in slow motion. They lunged forward, an unnatural pressure building up in the air, but I merely dodged to one side and the invisible force passed without so much as grazing me. They growled in annoyance, almost as if they'd expected for the battle to be over with just one move, but they still persisted, charging to where I stood, a look of concentration appearing on their face as they, no doubt tried to use their quirk against me, but they missed again as I took a step to the right and extended one of my daggers, cutting a thin red line over the side of their ribs as they stumbled past me. 

It was pathetic how much they relied on quirks. It always was like that with anyone who had a physical quirk - they learned how to use it, and then never did even the basic things without help from their quirk ever again. It made me angry, just how unfair it was that they'd been dealt a naturally perfect hand while all I got was a quirk that let me hide. In a way, though, I was grateful. At least I knew how to fight without relying on something that even the best scientists still don't completely understand. 

Sure, quirks were great, but they took away the beauty of a fair fight. They took away that perfect feeling that you got as you dodged one brutal attack after another, retaliating with first one cut and then another that left your opponent bleeding and restless. They took away the unstoppable joy of slashing an opponent into strips the second their back was turned, until their once-clean gray shirt was drenched in their own red blood. They took away the victorious feeling of leaping from one side to another as your opponent kept trying and failing to catch up to you, until you pushed off of the destroyed  walls of the alley and flew through the air and landed on their shoulders, their own bulk keeping them from reaching you and pulling you off as you put them in a deadly headlock, two daggers pressed against both the front and back of their neck.

The villain seemed winded and exhausted - I'd met every single one of their attacks with three of my own, and they were covered in deep gashes that ran red with blood. They clawed desperately, trying to throw me off of their shoulders, but I only squeezed my legs harder around them, hearing the faint crack of a bone in their spine breaking from the pressure, and a sick smile spread over my face. They'd been so cocky, so sure that they'd win, and yet , here they were, struggling for breath but too scared to even move me in case my hands accidentally slipped and cut through the delicate flesh of their neck. 

Even though they were built solely out of muscle, the blood loss from the hundreds of cuts that I'd left on them was enough to make anyone weaken, and with an anguished grunt of pain, they collapsed to the ground, my reflexes only fast enough to pull the daggers off of their neck so as to not accidentally murder my only chance at finding out where Keigo was.