-Let's Chat- (MHA x OC fanfic)

-1-

"ALLLRIGHTY LISTENERS! HAVE YOU ALL BEEN HAVING FUN TONIGHT!?"

The booming voice of the limelight voice hero; Present Mic, or Hizashi Yamada, blares quietly through the half-broken speaker on the floor of the bedroom.

The beat of the music playing in a perfect tandem to the horrible symphony of the dripping blood from the nose of a little girl in the room, along with the hidden percussion of silent breathing from another girl carefully hidden under the bed in the room.

"WHERE IS YOUR SISTER!? WHERE IS SHE!?" The boisterous happiness of the voice hero is drowned out by a yell from the man who held the bleeding girl by the collar of her already damaged school uniform, Masahiro Haruto.

"...She's not here papa.." The soft voice of the bleeding girl almost blended into the music of the radio- a clear lie from her lips but not one she was willing to back down on. The little girl being held like that being Masahiro's own blooded daughter- Mizuki Haruto. The girl was anxious, scared, petrified- but she did not let up her lying, she knew what the man would do if he found her little sister and she wasn't going to let it happen.

"WHERE IS SHE!?" Again the man screamed, his breath smelling and tasting of the dreadful smell and taste of cheap booze, beer most likely drank warm.

"...Why won't you listen..? She's not here.." Again Mizuki softly repeated her statements- the same statements that got her into this predicament anyways- purpling bruises and a deep cut from the mans pocket knife on her arm.

"YOU'RE A LIAR! LIARS GET PUNISHED YOU LITTLE BiTCH-" His voice crackled as he dropped her, kicking her as he grabbed another beer and downed it, smashing the empty bottle near her head, which caused the girl to cry, but not because of the pain- because of the memories she knew she was never going to be able to have with her father- a man she was a spitting image of.

From the fluffy brown hair with light strips in it, to the onyx colored eyes, looking at her she was a mirror of her father, for better or worse, when it came to her appearance.

Once the man's fury had run dry he kicked her once more for good measure and left the room as she sat up to cough up what little she had in her stomach.

"Izuki...." Eventually her sister came from under the bed- the other little girl only 2 years younger than herself, blonde hair and heterochromatic black and blue eyes, although her black eye almost looked navy under the light- a trait that Mizuki could admit sometimes she was envious of.

"Nori, calm down.. it's okay.. papa is just angry.." Mizuki bit back the soft whimper of pain she wanted to make as she coughed up nothing but bile.

"But it's not okay. You need to stop lying for me. I'm 8 years old, I can take it." Noriko huffed softly- reaching back into her hiding spot to grab a small medical kit she had stolen from their parent's restroom many weeks ago the supplies running a dangerous low.

"And I am 10. I need to protect you. Papa might be angry but his angry hurts- and I won't let him do it to you. I'm much happier sitting here and taking it so you can be happy." Mizuki gave the same response she did every time, the same lie she told each night, that she was happy to be here.

A lie both of them had forced themselves to believe, because wasn't this normal?

"...Alright.. well since you wont let me take the blame- I'm drawing on your bandaids." Noriko grinned- bringing the mood of the room the two shared up with only a single motion as she dug under the bed until a sharpie was in her hand.

"I'm okay with that." Mizuki gave a shaking smile- still biting back pain for the sake of them both, not wanting to admit the hurt she was in because admitting it meant admitting she wasn't used to it.

And so Noriko went about bandaging the bruises and cuts, humming along with the radio station as she worked and doodled on each bandage she put- Mizuki quietly instructing her through some more-complicated spots to bandage, both enjoying the quiet presence of the other and the occasional joke between them- not enjoying their normal, but at least enjoying eachother.

And once it was all over- once their silence had truly become comfortable, a single sentence caught their attention.

"If you text ########88 right now with a friend, you both might have an exclusive chance to talk to me, Present Mic! Let's get those phone's a rollin' listeners!"

The radio blared- and without a thought the girls fished under the bed until they found their father's old phones, two different devices he didn't even realize he was still paying for service for, and created a groupchat with the small hope they would get to end this terrible night by texting their favorite hero.