The Villain Integration Program | Kirishima x Bakugo x Reader

Lost Book | Chpt 5

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Enjoy~

(y/n)'s POV

I was getting fed up being so alone.

My day on Tuesday was silent and I just sulked, sat beside Aizawa on the subway. I was being required to return for a case update. Apparently, a popular villain typically came to the family bar and I was supposed to say as much as I knew about him. I had swallowed about a dozen of the gummy candies before coming, trying to treat myself. Now they just sat in my stomach like a solid lump. I laid my head against the glass, feeling it rock with the movement of the train.

"Tired? Did you eat today?"

"Yes and yes," I answered routinely. I was getting less and less of an appetite everyday now, but I forced myself to eat. I had never had this problem before.

"This will be quick."

It was not.

Apparently, my mother was supposed to be there. When I walked in, she was seated and subdued. She eyed me, her mouth shut and I sat down. It was hard to recall the trials of everything, mostly because I had blocked it out of my memory. I didn't really want to think about her at all or anything else.

"Do you know this man?" the investigator asked. There was a photo projected up on a screen and I recognized it instantly. He was the type of guy to bring around various women--sometimes multiple at the same time. He would order the same drink, 3 of that specific beverage every time he came in. He seemed kind of low level for this sort of thing, all I could really recall about him was his terrible tips and his involvement with the string of muggings.

Muggings didn't really require all of this, did it?

It was a dull room with which we were all spaced apart except for me and the investigator. My mother was propped against the wall and Aizawa was watching from another side of the room.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"He came into the bar all the time."

"Why?"

"To do his taxes, why the hell do you think?" I stated. The man set his hand on the table, trying to appear menacing. I just glanced back at the screen and slumped in my chair. "To drink."

"Describe him for me."

"You have a pictur--well he looks like that," I scoffed, "He's a terrible tipper, he ordered the same disgusting whiskey, and he's got connections with muggings."

"Alright, now who is this man?" he asked, switching to a picture of what I could barely describe as a man. He had no discernable features that made it easy to identify him, and I had never seen him before.

"I don't know."

"That's All for One. Isn't it Miss Kumo?" He looked to my mother, addressing her by her maiden name. She had never taken my father's. She just nodded, staring directly at me. This was vaguely familiar and I recalled the trial.

"And you never told (y/n) about All for One?"

"No, I know how to parent my child and she didn't need to know," my mother spoke, her tone icy. I just sat on the other side of the judges stand, staring at an uneven tile in the linoleum floor.

"It's true that you were harvesting bar-goers to provide quirks for All for One, correct?"

"That is completely untrue."

"You didn't tell (y/n) because you knew she would find it wrong."

"I don't--"

"You're lying."