BNHA: I am Reiji Toga

The train moved slowly through the suburbs of Musutafu. Reiji sat alone, hood up and arms crossed, staring at his reflection in the window. It had been a couple of weeks since his first undercover assignment, and his activity had increased dramatically since then, just as Hawks had told him.

From Tokyo, he'd been assigned a simple mission: surveillance and search. No contact, no interference. His target was a small industrial warehouse that, according to internal reports, was being used to distribute Quirk-destabilizing drugs, which were causing public incidents with out-of-control Quirks.

The Commission made it clear: "Observation only. Prioritize information. Do not act under any circumstances."

Upon arriving at the scene, Reiji moved as he had so many times before: quickly, silently, precisely. He climbed onto the roof of a neighboring building and waited. From there, he had a direct view of the warehouse's side gate.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then the van appeared.

Three adult men and two young men got out. They were carrying small, sealed, metal crates. His intelligence revealed that this was precisely the cargo he was looking for, though what made him frown wasn't that. It was what came next.

A group of four children emerged from inside the warehouse. They were between eight and thirteen years old. One of them was dragging a crate larger than him. Another was coughing constantly, as if his lungs were on fire.

Reiji's shoulders tensed.

He watched them silently as he activated the thermal camera. He recorded everything. Faces, movements, vehicle license plates, even the conversations he could pick up with the directional microphone. He did it well. Just like he was taught.

But something inside him was starting to stir.

One of the children stumbled. He fell to his knees with the crate on top of him. One of the adults immediately approached, but not to help him. He yelled at him. He grabbed his arm. He forced him to get up and continue carrying.

Reiji didn't move. But his jaw tightened so much it began to hurt.

Then, one of the children, the youngest, barely a toddler with a thin face and sunken eyes, looked up at the clouds... Until he turned his head toward him. He wasn't exactly looking at him, but his eyes showed he was completely lost and crying out for help that would probably never come.

Reiji felt a dry knot in his stomach. For a moment, he wasn't in Musutafu. He was in that white room, with tubes sticking out of his body, with gowns walking around him, feeling like his life wasn't his own.

He, too, had been a child in the hands of faceless adults. And no one had saved him.

"Reiji, report." His trance was cut short when a voice echoed through his communicator. He was still at work, and he had to act like it.

"Target confirmed. Recording complete. I'm leaving," he repeated, his Quirk activating next to him in a small needle, but he quickly desisted... He knew that acting now would probably be detrimental not only to himself, but also to all the children entangled in that damned web.

"Roger that."

He jumped off the roof minutes later and disappeared down a side street. The wind hit his face. But it didn't clear his mind.

He walked toward the station with a firm step, although inside... he was just one memory away from breaking.

***

Sunday brought with it a strange calm.

The house had that warm, sleepy atmosphere that only came when everyone was home and there were no pressing obligations. The television murmured from the dining room, the parents spoke in hushed voices in the kitchen, and the sun filtered through the curtains, giving everything a warm, domestic veneer.

Reiji had spent most of the morning doing nothing productive. He wasn't training. He hadn't been assigned any missions. And although he should have taken advantage of the opportunity to truly rest, he couldn't help feeling a little out of place. Sitting on the sofa, barefoot, he just watched Himiko with a cup of tea in her hand.

She had her back to him, stirring sugar in her tea with her fingertip. She wasn't the same restless, noisy girl she had been before. Over the years, she had become more serene... but also stranger, in a way only Reiji could notice.

And he wasn't the same either. He'd noticed it a while ago in front of the mirror: his features had sharpened, his eyes looked deeper, and his skin, though healthy, had a tone that didn't quite match the rest of his family. He couldn't explain it. It was just... changing.

And the worst part: he didn't know if that was natural.

Himiko returned with two cups, sinking into the armchair next to him. She leaned against him without asking, as she had been doing for the past year.

"Here. It's chamomile," she said, handing him a cup.

"Thank you."

They drank in silence for a moment.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" she asked, without looking at him.

"A little. And you?"

"Nothing new."

They fell silent again, but it wasn't awkward. It was that kind of pause they'd shared since they were kids, where all it took was breathing at the same rhythm to feel close.

Reiji broke the calm after a while. Thinking back to what he'd seen a few days ago, coupled with his past life.

"Have you decided what you're going to do after high school?"

Himiko didn't respond to the shot. She put down her cup, thought for a few seconds, and then nodded.

"Yes. I'm going to apply to U.A."

He blinked. This was... He hadn't expected this at all! He knew that Himiko's destiny would inevitably change a lot. But at U.A itself, being a hero?

"U.A.? Really?"

"General Department. I'm not interested in the hero course. I don't like the idea of ​​yelling weird names or fighting in tights... Although I think it would suit you." She paused briefly before continuing after the little joke that only the two of them understood. "But... I do want to be around. I want to learn something useful. Have options. And if you're going to end up there..."

She looked at him sideways, almost shyly.

"...I want to be with you."

He didn't say anything. But the way he lowered his gaze was enough.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not doing it just to follow you. It's something I really want. But if I can have you around... that's enough to try. If you found an agency, I can use many ways to help you, not with my Quirk because you know, but... There are still many ways."

Reiji looked away.

"It's not an easy place."

"You're not easy either." And here I am."

She smiled and leaned further back, until she was leaning against his neck.

Reiji noticed the warmth of her breathing. Her closeness wasn't accidental. It was measured, desired. He knew what he was doing. He felt her hand slide slowly up his arm, and her fingers tighten around his wrist gently, almost as if measuring his pulse.

"If that's your wish. Then I hope you study well to achieve it."

She didn't respond. She just leaned closer, and without warning, she ran her tongue down his neck. Then, without giving him time to move away, she bit gently and sucked a small drop of blood.

Reiji remained still. It wasn't painful. But it wasn't accidental either.

"Himiko..."

"I'm sorry," she said, though her voice didn't sound remorseful. "Just a little. Your blood... It gets more delicious every time."

He took her wrist and gently pulled her away.

"You can't do that."

"Why not? It's your fault it tastes so good."

"I'm not food."

The silence returned, thicker than before. And yet, Reiji didn't push her away completely. He liked feeling like there was someone always there for him, that figure he so desired in his other life... How could he reject her so easily?

He wrapped his arm around her, slowly, resting his chin on her head. He didn't speak again. He just held her.

And as the sun filtered through the windows, and the sound of the television rose a little from the dining room, Reiji thought about how ironic it all was.

***

The murmur of the television continued in the background, but no one was listening.

The entire house seemed to have surrendered to silence. On the main couch, under a warm blanket and in a more uncomfortable position than he'd admit, Reiji had Himiko asleep on top of him.

Her breathing was soft, warm, and rhythmic. She had one leg crossed over his and one hand hidden under his shirt. Reiji didn't know when it had gotten there, but he wasn't doing anything wrong, so he ignored it.

From the outside, it might have seemed tender.

His body felt heavy, but it wasn't physical fatigue, nor was it Himiko's pacing. It was something else. Something that had been building up for days, since before the mission, and now… it was overflowing in his chest.

He closed his eyes. Just for a moment.

The light was white. There were no windows. Only smooth walls and a ceiling that buzzed with static electricity.

His back felt cold. He was naked from the waist up, lying on a metal surface. His skin pressed against the steel. The air smelled of alcohol and latex.

He tried to move, but all his limbs seemed tied.

A slight tug caused the metallic sound of the straps tightening.

He opened his eyes. The light blinded him for a second.

Shadows moved around him. Men and women in lab coats. None of them looked at him directly.

"The cellular pattern is stable."

The voice was flat. Methodical. As if talking about some random experiment, not a child's.

He felt a needle enter his left arm. The burning was immediate. The liquid mingled with his blood like black ink in clear water.

He tried to scream. He couldn't. There was something in his throat. A tube. No, two. One down his windpipe. Another connected him to a bag of fluid. He was gasping for air.

Somewhere nearby, someone else was crying. A child's voice. Moans. Sobs. He didn't know them, but he recognized them. They were his, even if they didn't come from his mouth.

Maybe another gurney. Maybe another "control subject."

And then, a figure approached.

Taller than the others. It wore gloves. Goggles. A surgical mask.

It had no face.

"She's showing no signs of dissociation yet," he said neutrally, prying the figure's eyelids open with his thumb. "Interesting."

He checked the figure's eyes. The teeth. The tongue. The neck. Everything.

The figure leaned in and whispered something near his ear:

"What's holding you up, kid?"

"Or do you still believe someone will come for you?"

The gurney vibrated beneath his back. His body tried to move, but couldn't. His head throbbed. His chest burned.

And just then, without logic, without permission, the image of Musutafu's child appeared in his mind.

The empty eyes. The box in his arms. The trembling voice, looking down at him.

"Were you expecting someone too?"

Reiji opened his eyes abruptly.

The ceiling was different. Low. Made of plaster. The blanket on his chest was heavy, but not cold. Himiko was still asleep, snuggled up against him, as if nothing had happened.

Her breathing was slow. The dining room clock read two in the morning. It was drizzling outside.

He barely sat up. His heart was beating fast, pounding. His mind replayed the damn nightmare that had invaded him again. Years had passed, more than a decade. Yet he still felt it vividly.

He reflexively brought a hand to his neck. Nothing. No tubes. No pressure.

Sweat ran down the back of his neck. His fingers trembled.

Himiko murmured something in her sleep and clung closer to him. The touch brought back some warmth.

Reiji stayed like that. Sitting. Still. Without moving. He'd slept enough; his recovery allowed him to stay awake, with enough food... And that was much better than going back to that place.