All My White Lies | bnha

twenty-two | the gods above

THERE'S A MINUTE WHERE MY BODY GOES AIRBORNE. I wasn't sure when, or how, but I could feel myself floating just for a few, brief moments before I was smacked into the ground again. "Reaper!" Midoriya's yelp is blurry. How can a sound be blurry? My own thoughts were a mess.

It felt like all of the ink had rushed to my brain and poured out of my skull simultaneously. "Hey, get up," Kioshi was murmuring. Or, at least, it sounded like a murmur. Perhaps he was yelling. The muscular man crept his way to me anyway, grinning at my limp, flopped-over stature.

For a moment, I had felt like a God. Wrapped in armor that was my brother, a now discarded scythe had been gripped within my fingers; I was powerful. But of course, the villain dethroned me and gave me a scar resembling a crown of thorns as proof that Heaven had met Hell.

I coughed, ink spilling out of my mouth. It curved into the delves of my lips and I could taste its faint bitterness. Ink never tasted good when it came from my own veins. "Let me take this mask off," The villain cackled, raising my figure by my throat. "I want you to look at me with your real eyes when I kill you."

My head hung back. My sight was still dazed. Stars danced in and out of my vision, orbs of white colliding with spots of black as I adjusted to the colors around me. The pink of his muscle fibers, the blue-green of Midoriya's not-too-far-off lightning, Kota's red hat on the ground.

"You seriously. . . don't think," I muttered, coughing again when his grip tightened. I croaked despite his efforts, "I'm that weak, do you?" The muscular man looked at me with awe before his expression was overcome with more determination. A look of erasure, eradication; one of those gazes that made you think "if looks could kill I would be. . . "

"Shut up,"

My eyes drifted down to the muscular man's stare, feeling him hold me just a few inches above his own head. "No, you shut up. I wasn't talking to you." In an instant, the ink that had tainted my mouth had shifted into the blade of my scythe, curving sharply right into his skull.

Black mixed with red and I didn't stop until I could feel his body go limp, his figure collapsing beside mine as he finally released me. Maybe his heart gave out before his fingers did. I couldn't tell. "Reaper!" Endurance was my weak point. There was no point in attempting to live up to it.

It was like putting a plant out into the sun and expecting it to draw water from the said star. It was easier to let myself get caught, pretend I was weak, and strike there. People expect the most from others who do the least and vice versa. Villains were accursed, a wretched mind among men, and their brains could be tainted just as easily.

"I'm fine. Can you do what I tell you for once and take Kota back to the camp?" I snapped. Kioshi's arm wound around my figure, tugging out a pen and cracking it into my mouth. It took more than that one for me to feel refreshed again. My stance was wobbly, but I'd manage throughout the rest of the forest.

"Reaper. . . "

"You have one job. One fucking job and that's it. Now go."

I didn't have time to argue nor did I have the energy. My patience was thinning out and I wasn't the only one. Kioshi was antsy, nudging up against my side, rising into the air, and dropping back down again. I wasn't sure if he was waiting for my words or to come up with his own to tell me.

"Who were you talking to?"

"Huh?"

"You told that muscle villain thing that you weren't talking to him. So who were you talking to?"

My thoughts were foggy. "I don't know. You, me, God—if there even is one—Midoriya, the kid. Endless possibilities," I dropped back to my ass, not even bothering to fight my way back to standing up. I could see fine right here, my eyes met the tree line and beyond; faint curls of blue fire dancing into the air.