🥀 Chapter 4 “Big... and Bulky!”
“It’s Beauty and the Beast, but You aren't the monster..” (Fem!Reader X Kirishima)🥀 Chapter 4 “Big... and Bulky!”
(Second time's the charm?)
I totally just decided to go back to my laptop to finalize this post...
Anyways! Please enjoy this plot heavy chapter! I've been falling on most of my fics lately, so I hope to make up for it~
Find the other chapters here: LINK
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WARNINGS: Lotta plot, SFW, sulking.
What the hell is that?!
Kirishima holds both arms out in front of him, hardened and sharp like blades. He eyes the monster ahead of him, watching in his peripheral as the people it had been attacking ran back to the other end of the alley and out unto the street.
Honestly, he hadn't expected anything to happen his first night doing this. Usually after a big event, things die down for a while due to the surplus in hero and police presence--but this was something else!
"Like I said, if you come easily.."
He notices the creature's eyes are closed, despite it's head being turned his direction. There's a strange, pitched whine that comes from it, and he can see blood oozing from about it's feet. There's an obvious wound on the arm opposite his position--but that shouldn't matter, he thinks, trying to draw himself out of any sympathy.
They would patch it up, once detained.
"I see you're wounded.." He un-hardens one arm and reaches for his cell. "Once the authorities get here, they'll--"
He flinches at it moves forward, extending an arm with another strange melancholic whine. He could swear there was a please, please don't, within the hollow noise of it.
He knows it’s a bad idea, but he hesitates. Then, the creature begins to shrink.
Going back to it's original form, he notes, feeling at least a little victorious. FatGum has always been one to instruct diplomacy over violence. Cautiously, he moves forward, still ready to take on the brunt of any attack this beast could dish out--
"It's you.."
Standing, shoulder clutched by a shaking hand and eyes still closed to him, is definitely you.
"…This looks bad, doesn't it?" You ask dryly, while glass shards tink against the pavement as they leave your arm, the flesh shrinking and spitting them out.
"I-I mean--what..?" He shakes his head, "What happened?"
You open your eyes then, sure that your quirk had fully stopped. Staring, you converse with yourself on what to say. Would he even believe you? With everything he already knew, you were pretty sure it didn't matter. Hell, the fact he'd conveniently been around for this event had red flags all over it.
"…Self defense." You say, reluctant to move toward him. "They followed me from the restaurant. Someone used an illusionary quirk and lead me to this alley way."
"Wait, they attacked you?" He asks, putting effort into relieving the 'you' in his sentence of any emphasis.
"…Yes."
Kirishima isn't sure if your hesitancy is because you were telling the truth, or lying. Bakugou's warning goes off in his mind, but the memory of it angers him. Gah, why can't things just be simple!
He blinks, and he's caught soaking in the moment for several seconds before he settles on doing the one thing he can do. "Alright… Well you're uh, you're pretty banged up. C'mon, you need to go to the hospital."
"You aren't taking me in?"
"Why would I?"
"…" Well, he had a point, all things considered. In fact, blurting the question was more suspicious than him indeed choosing not to turn you in.
Kirishima weighs the decisions of his movements, in the end doing away with his hardening quirk and approaching you outright. Less because he was afraid of your possible retaliation, and more because he could harden in an instance anyway--but he didn't want to appear threatening. Even with the situation being what it was, he wanted to take Tsu's advice to heart. "Like I said, hospital."
"That's honestly the last place I want to go right now." You admit, allowing him to come up on your wounded side.
"I'm not really good with sutures.." He mumbles while evaluating the damage.
He reaches out gingerly, taking the upper part of your arm and twisting for a slightly better look. You wince. "You might get away with some bandages. I don't know what your quirk does, but it seems to have an effect on the damage you take. These look a lot smaller now." He gives you a stern look--a look you hadn't previously thought him capable of making--and lifts his hand from your arm to point a finger. "But, you will need actual medical attention in the morning. Even if I have to escort you myself."
"Ugh, fine." You murmur, wincing.
With a satisfied noise, he moves to the other side and goes to put your arm over his shoulder.
"Can you walk?" He asks.
"Of course." You bite back, but immediately regret doing so afterwards. He remains unphased, following through with the action, and that makes the guilt worse somehow.
🥀
There were some looks from the hotel's night manager, but otherwise you two had been left alone.
By the time the door to your room was opened, you were ready to hit the floor. You had not used the offensive side of your quirk for years, and it had taken a toll on your body.
"Here we go," He says, voice soft despite your sharpened edges, leading you to take a seat on a barstool. It puts you up a little higher, and given his massive height, it's to help him clean up your injuries.
His massive height. Had you noticed before? Why was it so important all the sudden? He turns away to grab a white wash-cloth from the counter and drench it in the sink.
"There should be a first aid kit in here somewhere.." He mumbles, looking around the expanse of the hotel room as he shuts the water off. "Any idea where it is?"
You realize you'd been staring when he locks eyes with you.
"Er--I think it's on the wall in the bathroom."
"Got it."
He folds the cloth in his hand then goes for the bathroom door. As the light turns on, the fluorescent bulbs outline his broad shoulders and jagged hair--jagged hair that had begun to settle with time, and no longer stood straight up like it usually did when he wore his hero costume.
You force your gaze away.
Now you knew why you had accidently described the prince in your novel to look like him.
You also felt yourself growing nervous beneath the weight of his presence. When he finally returns to the bar with a little red and white box, you can feel your foot wanting to tap against the metal of your seat and sweat pooling on your upper lip.
"Okay, so.. I'm not going to lie to you." He starts off, voice all even and unaffected--if anything, he sounded as cheerful as he had the first time you met him. "I wasn't really the best at medical training, but I remember the basics."
You swallow, and he grabs the cloth while tracing your figure with his eyes--your wounds with his eyes--not your figure, idiot.
"Alright. Arm first? I'll just clean it with this to get the grime off, then alcohol after."
You nod, silently sucking in a breath of preparation.
"Cool."
His palm, also massive, presses against the clean part of your arm for leverage as he uses the other to wipe blood and grime from your skin. It's practically torturous for the first few seconds, being so close, but you adjust. And of course, he seems fine.
He probably does this a lot. You remind yourself, letting your eyes wander off of him. …And for all kinds of people.
"This might burn a bit." He warns, reaching for the cotton and alcohol. When he looks back at you, he flashes a charming smile. "You can hit me if you need to. Since my quirk is Hardening, I won't feel it."
"I have a high pain tolerance."
"If you say so."
Minutes of awkward silence extend into the night as he cleans and bandages your wounds. Your nervousness ebbs and soon all you can feel is tired and achy. By the time he'd finished, your eyes had grown droopy and your saltiness had dissipated.
Despite the odd connections and coincidences, his actions for now seemed sincere. Not to mention advantageous for you, seeing as he was acting as your personal nurse. It would only take an instant for you to use your quirk and know the truth, but.. Something stopped you.
For once, you didn't want to know.
Satisfied with his work, he dusts off his hands with a proud toothy grin. "All done. Pretty good, if I do say so myself." He removes himself from in front of you, circling back to the sink. "How ya feeling?"
"Tired, but fine." A second beats by before you add: "Thank you, by the way."
"No problem." He checks the clock on your wall, "I better head back and put this in a report. I'll get with you tomorrow, okay?"
He washes his hands and you watch him.
Why didn't you want him to leave?
You hated everyone.
You'd fought it before. Fought it like a caged lion, like the beast you had been in the alley--you beat on the bars and remind yourself: they aren't all bad, they aren't all bad. Yet, you'd always end up right back in your room, locked away, imagining better, kinder realities from the safety of your cozy castle walls.
Realities with real heroes, that weren't backed by ridiculous penchants and advertisement fortunes.
Yet, despite how the evidence pointed towards his eventual betrayal.. You wanted him to stay.
"It's…" Your mouth opens involuntarily. It's late, you want to say. Stay.
And it grieves you, the way he looks up from the sink expectantly with optimistic ruby eyes, and knowing you can't actually ask him to.
"It's getting cold at night." You deflect. "I noticed you weren't wearing a jacket.."
"Oh," He waves a hand after shutting off the water. "Puh, I can't feel it really. It's part of my endurance training for my quirk."
Then he takes on a look of surprise, giving you a bit of a suspicious side-glance.
"What?"
"…Nothing. You just, mentioned the weather. Actually, you warned me about the weather." He crosses his arms, thumb at his chin, a pedestal for his childish grin. "I think I'm growing on you a little."
"I was just being polite."
"Which, you pointedly weren't doing before."
"Considering what you've done for me tonight, this is a logical way to act."
"Fair. Fair." He resigns, dropping his arms. But he doesn't leave immediately.
"I'll check back in tomorrow, and.. If it's alright with you, I think we need to talk about this whole thing again. I'm not directly insinuating these bombings and attacks are revolving around you, but.." His hand goes to his neck and he looks off, "it's just a little weird, y'know?"
"I know." You respond flatly, "Isn't this police work though? Investigation, interrogations..?"
"I'd like to think I'm not doing that. I'm just.. Doing whatever it takes to make sure everyone's safe." He gives you an apathetic look, "To be honest, after the way Detective Gina spoke to you, I'm not sure you would get treated fairly. It's something I plan to talk to his superiors about, when this is over."
There's an argument you want to start then and there, but you're honestly too tired. Telling Detective Gina's supervisor would have as much effect as pouring water on a rock. It looks shiny for a moment, but it grows dull again after some time.
"…I don't mind." You say, bypassing his last statement for now. "I'll help as much as I can."
"Thank you." He says, and he does so with that toothy smile that feels too genuine to be real. "Alright, I'll.. See you tomorrow, L/n."
"See you." You mutter, lifting yourself from the bar as takes his leave.
For once, being alone didn't feel so nice.
🥀
"She turned into a what?"
"Some kind of animal. A really big one. Anyway, I'm just worried she's being targeted. Everything's just.. Lining up all weird."
"Hm.." Fat Gum's voice hums through Kirishima's speaker, and he almost regrets asking for advice. He should be able to handle this on his own.
"And you're sure she wasn't the one that perpetrated the attack?"
Kirishima hesitates with his answer.
He wasn't sure.
"I wasn't there when it started, but I think she's telling the truth."
"You have a big heart Kirishima, but don't let that blind you. You need more information. What did you say her name was again?"
"Oop, someone's asking for me, gotta go. I'll call you later!"
"Alright, be careful--"
-click-
Kirishima sighs, slumping into the small office chair. He hated to lie, especially to someone so important; but he knew that once that name was uttered, he'd get dragged through the coals again.
He hated this.
Most of the time, his heart aligned with his hero work. He'd met so many people, and rarely did he meet heroes or police workers that gave him any inkling that they might be doing something bad, or had previously done something bad.
But now, when he utters that name, everyone changes. They get guarded. Angry, even. Like Gina.
And, he should probably do as they say. He shouldn't trust you, shouldn't entertain the thoughts he has of you.
But his chest always hurts when he thinks about your defeated downward glances. The natural downcast nature of your expression--like you've given up. Your sour voice and sharp words, defensive before conversation even starts.
Except that one moment the night prior.
"It's.. Getting cold at night. I noticed you weren't wearing a jacket."
There's someone else in there, and he knows it. A kinder, happier version that's been smooshed out like one of Gina's damned cigarettes.
Hand pressed into his chin, he glares daggers at the wall ahead. Upon it, a makeshift map of the area this station was in charge of. There's a picture of you and a red pin placed at the corner of the ward where the bomb had gone off. Another pin in the alley where you'd been attacked, and some more of recent sightings brought into the station.
He knew Detective Gina had the same board in his office. He also knew, that he probably shouldn't have his own, nor be conducting anything akin to an investigation on this subject without Gina's direct knowledge.
…He also knows that if he's wrong, if everything goes south, it'll end badly. His reputation with the Commission, the Police Force, and probably even Fat Gum's Agency, would essentially go into the toilet. He was intentionally being indirect and underhanded--words that no one thought to be in Kirishima's vocabulary.
But he was also tired of being held back.
This wasn't like the time he and his classmates had gone to save Bakugou when they were kids, when they were young and weak and naïve. Now, he had the experience, the ability, and even the jurisdiction. It felt like everyone was trying to keep his nose in the dirt, like he just doesn't understand. Like he's not enough.
She's dangerous.
"Well, so am I." He says aloud, realizing the intensity of his grip that had slid up to his hairline. His fingers had become points, digging into the skin above his temple.
"Red Riot?"
Someone pokes their head in through the door to his makeshift office, a clip board in their hand.
"Yeah?"
"Pro Hero Dynamight is here to see you."
🥀
"It's a new gang."
A stack of papers is slapped unto Kirishima's much-too-small desk, pressed into it by Bakugou's thick green and orange gloves. On top, a picture held to the rest by a paperclip.
It shows a picture taken in motion, where grey and black streaks the page. It appears to have been done with a night-vision lens, grainy, but the central focus was still crystal clear. Someone turned away, running from a package on the ground, with a strange symbol painted unto their jacket.
"Another one?" Kirishima asks, standing at the desk's opposite end. "It's like they keep popping up all over the place.."
"This one's different." Bakugou growls, "Most gangs are just a bunch of idiots with quirks that they think gives them an advantage. These have been organized. And there's a'fuckin lot of em too."
"You mean.."
"Yeah. It's getting worse."
There's a tense silence that follows, where Kirishima picks up the papers and Bakugou takes a step back to cross his arms and lean into the nearest wall. Flipping through the pages, Kirishima reads time stamps and reports regarding the same symbol being seen in equipment heists and bank break-ins. Small crimes in comparison to some, given the nature of their world, but even he could make sense of the pattern.
"Someone's stocking up." He says, gaze returning to his friend.
"There's a few bust-ins that include regular grocery stores. They cleaned out the cash registers, but they took cleaning chemicals with them too. That explains the explosives." Bakugou moves around the desk, pointing at locations across Kirishima's map. "Somehow, they're hitting areas at opportune moments and slipping past pro-heroes with ease."
"Do you think they could have a group with specialized stealth quirks?"
"Well, that's just the thing. Every time we've actually come in contact, we haven't seen their quirks. They don't use 'em."
The statement makes Kirishima's brows furrow. "You've made contact?"
"A few times." Bakugou runs a hand through his hair, and Kirishima can tell the subject really bothered him. "We keep losing track of them. It's not a coincidence, I know that. They're hiding themselves from us so we can't get an I.D., and they have to be getting away with some kind of.. Teleportation quirk or something."
Another thoughtful silence. Finally, Kirishima asks the question that had been eating at him from the start.
"…Have you spoken to Midoriya about this?"
Bakugou sighs. A pent up, frustrated breath that he lets out between his fingers as he grips his own jaw. "…I can't."
"What? Why?"
They were rivals for the Number One hero spot, but they weren't stupid. They worked together when they had too, and usually they were damn near invincible. Thanks to Midoriya's unmatched team of sidekicks, he took on most of the worst crime investigations across Japan--just like All Might had when he'd started his organization with Night Eye.
"I… I have a hunch." Bakugou's voice lowers an octave, "Someone knows where the patrols are. At all times. Unless someone is doing something off the grid, I'm pretty sure everyone's patrols are logged and kept somewhere."
"So.. Do you think someone from Midoriya's group is leaking the information?"
"Maybe. They don't have direct access, but the Hero Commission would bend over backwards for him. If his name is dropped, the officials will give them anything. But.. That's not the big reason." He takes a deeper breath. "Right now, he's so far up the Commission's ass that if I say anything against them, he gets real defensive. To the point I'm.. I'm not sure I can trust him not to mention it to them."
"The Commission." Kirishima says aloud, but he's lost in deep thought.
He's thinking about you.
You who had been a young woman trying to become a secret service investigator for the Hero Commission. You, who had tried to out someone in the elite, then ended up being pulled into a court case, ruled over, then kicked out unto the streets with the worst reputation in history.
What if you were right?
The Hero Commission doesn't claim to be innocent, but it does claim to have the best of intentions for helping the people, and in that there is no room for corruption.
Yet, that is exactly what Bakugou is proposing.
"Wait.." Instinctually, the blonde points at him. "You better not be.. You're not thinking about that woman are you?"
"So what if I am?" Kirishima turns on him, more poised than usual. "What if she's right? We know for a fact there were rats in Tartarus. I know All for One is gone now, but if someone really wants change.."
"Then they would start there." Bakugou finishes for him, and he finally acquiesces to the idea. "Have you gotten anywhere with that?"
"…Well," Kirishima looks off, "Now that you mention it.. I haven't been able to get any details no. But she was attacked."
"What? Directly?"
"Yeah. Last night."
🥀
You peer angrily at your reflection.
You were absolutely, positively, NOT looking forward to the Pro Hero Red Riot coming back to your hotel room for some kind of 'talk' that you essentially likened to an interrogation.
You were NOT.
"So what if he's.. Tall. And, bulky. Bulky! Too bulky--he's far, far too big. Of a person." You say, lip curled at yourself. "He's.. Loud. Too smiley, for sure."
The list of half-hearted so-called-unattractive properties dies in your throat. Unfortunately, that hatred turns inward, and instead you pick yourself apart.
"It's just.. Hormones." You try to reason. "I've been alone a good while, that's all."
And what were you going to do about it?
Sulk.
In the main room of the hotel, dressed in nice clothes and wearing more make-up than usual. Holding a pillow in your lap, and looking around at the furniture like it's going to help you vanquish your internal despair.
But, alas, time only drips by.
Unable to eat from the nerves (that are totally not good nerves!) you waste away there on the couch, eventually encouraging yourself to write a few chapters.
It's around noon when there's a knock at your door.
You hop up, thrusting the laptop aside, checking your appearance in the wide mirror set on the wall by the door. Despite everything you want to think, your heart is pounding.
I wonder what he'll look like.. You ponder, as another rap is made at the door. You're standing in front of it; nervous.
You breathe, deep, then pull the latch.
"Hey!"
The first thing you notice, of course, is that big sharp-toothed smile.
The next thing you notice--is that he's not alone.
"What's up?"
You deadpan.
"Uh.. Hey?" You respond, giving Kirishima a look.
"This is Pro Hero Dynamight. He's just here to help." He nods back towards him, but the blonde didn't need an introduction. You were well aware of Japan's symbol of Victory.
Along with his terrible attitude and unmatched combat prowess.
Help. Right. You think sarcastically, and it takes an immense effort to control the scathing look you want to give them both. Instead you turn on your heel, going back inside.
"Come in I guess." You quip, arms crossing over your chest.
At least I'll be going to hell looking my best, you think, back turned to them. Why else would he bring someone as strong as Dynamight? This is it. Either I'm being taken in alive, or he's here to kill me.
You peek over your shoulder as they awkwardly shuffle inside. Their Hero costumes combined with their athletic physiques really made them.. Too big for the room.
"Well?" You ask, voice sharp. "You wanted to talk?"
"Actually.. We were thinking. Lunch first?" Kirishima asks, voice a little quiet like he could sense you were ornery.
"What?" You turn back to them, brows pinched.
"You've been up here since last night right?" Bakugou pitches in, "I heard hotel food is shit."
"Right--and, you've been through a lot. It's the least we can do."
You stare, openly gawking at them. Lunch?!
You motion a hand at them, "With the two of you, dressed like that? We'll be swarmed."
Bakugou lifts a duffelbag you hadn't noticed before. "We're prepared for that. You got a bathroom?"
What is happening--"Yeah. Down the hall.."
"Thanks." And he disappears first, with the door closing behind him.
Now alone, Kirishima seems to shrink a little.
"Lunch?" You ask him, shaking your head.
"Well, you know--" He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Bakugou's been a big help on this case, so I wanted him here, but I also thought that might make you uncomfortable if we, ya know, cornered you up here and all. At least out there you know we won't hurt you." He rambles.
Some tension in you releases.
So they really aren't here to kill you. That's nice at least.