Sanguine Furorem | Dabi x MHA OC

Aridus (Thirst)

September 20XX (12:45 PM)

It's been two weeks since I decided to set my pro-hero status as inactive, and I've done nothing but mope around my tiny apartment in my underwear waiting for some sort of premonition or sign to do anything with my life.

"You've got six months to figure out if you want to keep pursuing your career as a pro hero."

That's what the HPSC told me. If I don't report back to them in 6 months, I'll have my hero license fully revoked, and I'll certainly be evicted from my apartment, seeing as they fully fund my living arrangement, and they don't technically have to look after me anymore, seeing as I'm a proper adult now. Though they may evict me if I go that route, I'm almost certain they will continue to monitor me for the rest of my life.

I am a "public liability" after all.

I've lived in this small 1 bedroom apartment by myself for almost half my life now, only getting the occasional police officer to do welfare checks on me, my government liaison accompanying me to school, or HPSC members bringing me small gifts during holidays and my birthday. It's been a fairly solitary life for me, but it hasn't always been. I had a life before these four walls surrounding me, but things change, and people change, and because of circumstances I cannot change, I have ended up living here for almost the past decade.

"But I have certainly changed the circumstances of my life now, or at least for the next six months," I say to myself, staring up at the ceiling from the comfort of my bed.

Will I be able to even get a normal job if I decide to fully quit hero work?

The HPSC has put it in my head that the only place I belong is around other heroes who'd be able to stop me if I went berserk.

If that's the case, why didn't they just lock me away or something when I appeared on their radar all those years ago?

Ugh, my back is tingling again.

I slowly sit up from my pillow-laden bed then slowly stretch out my back, arms in front with my back arched as I claw at the blankets underneath me and my thick sliver-to-black hair draping over my shoulders. It's kind of silly, but it's thought by the doctors who would run tests on me when I was younger, that possibly a grandparent or great-grandparent may have had a full-blooded big cat quirk, which may explain my residual big cat traits and behaviors.

It may have been cool to have a big cat quirk, but unfortunately for me, I was stuck with a physical power emitter blood expulsion, and ingestion quirk. The expulsion portion of my quirk I was not aware of until 9 years ago, but I was always loosely aware of the added technical ability and mental boost by ingesting blood-based meals and beverages.

My quirk didn't even have a name when I was forcibly relocated here all those years ago, and because of that, they gave it a scientific Latin name. I think they did that because the name "blood fury" sounded a bit too scary for an 11-year-old girl coming off the heels of a traumatic event, but I digress. Either way, my quirk has been the catalyst for all the happenings that have culminated in my life for nearly the past decade, and my recent leave of absence from my career as a pro hero is no exception.

As I slowly get up from my stretch, I look around my room littered with Cherry Plasma Packs and take-out food.

"Ugh, gross."