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Momo doesn't know a lot about suicide. Mental illness was always a taboo topic in her household. Like uttering its existence would breathe it into the naive and innocent Yaoyorozu Momo.
But Momo’s not mentally ill. She has trauma; it’s different—it’s not innate. It's like an injury. Fix it up with some counselling or whatever and you're supposed to be fine.
Not all injuries are fixable.
Her forearm twinges in affirmation.
"There's a few restaurants nearby with good reviews," Saiko mutters, tapping on her phone to the rhythm of the heart monitor. Her eyes flicker up.
Momo squints.
"I could stop by and get something for us to eat. Maybe some unagi?"
Eating.
They yank down on Momo's jaw, and she sputters. Her head jerks back against the wall, pulled by the hair, and her jaw muscles stretch and crinkle. And then her mouth is slimy and coppery and she whimpers . A sour finger hits her tongue, pressing it into her throat, and she wants to die.
"Swallow."
(She can't breathe.)
"Or choke and die, I don't give a fuck. Can always replace ya'."
(She can't think.)
"Oh, look at his face. He's fucking twitching."
(She can't see.)
"Gonna give us your quirk now?"
He says nothing.
They shove it into the back of her throat.
(She swallows and she's choking and she's choking and she's choking, and she swallows and she swallows around the literal lump in her throat, and she wants to die .)
Momo retches.
Saliva and stomach acids rile up her throat and dribble down her chin.
Saiko whisks the kidney dish over to her mouth and Momo grits her teeth.
"I'm sorry," Saiko whispers.
But Momo is polite. "N-no. I'm sorry."
Saiko sets down the dish and dabs a napkin at Momo's chin.
Momo wants to say that she can do it herself. She can wipe her own fucking chin.
But Momo ... is ... polite. "Thank you."
Saiko inhales. "Will you tell me about it?"
Momo resists the urge to scowl. Or tries to resist, at least. Absolutely fucking not.
(What they did to her doesn't matter once no one is alive to remember it.)
Momo inhales. She needs to be aloof, but polite. Unassuming. Can't let Saiko feel responsible for what's about to happen. Or worse yet, tip her off.
Momo exhales. "I think some food would be nice. Anything you pick will be wonderful!" Just get rid of Saiko. And then she'll be alone, and she'll kill herself, and everything will be as okay as it can be when the rising symbol of hope is fucking dead.
"Oh, okay," Saiko whispers. "It'll take about twenty minutes, alright?"
Momo smiles. "That's fine! I'll text you if anything happens."
Saiko smiles. "Please do! I'll be back soon! Love you!"
"Love you too," Momo whispers.
And Saiko leaves and Momo breathes.
Sixty seconds. Gotta wait ... for Saiko to be out of hearing distance ....
She clenches her fist—
—and counts in her head.
One.
Two.
Three.
Momo's torso drops to the cement floor and she pries open an eye.
They are stepping away, Momo's blood dripping from their hands. They pull open a heavy steel door and seal it behind them.
Is it over?
It's not over.
Momo whimpers. Her arm stings and her bones pang and her hand is numb .
Is it still there?
She twists her head with a groan and blinks out her tears. It's blood. There's ... so much blood. She can't ....
She twitches a finger and nothing moves and she screams through grit teeth.
"Yaoyorozu-san," he whispers, smiling with teeth and crying with everything else. "It's going to be okay."
Momo wipes a tear from her cheek and b r e a t h e s.
It'll all be over soon.
She holds out her hand and wills her quirk to life.
It's awfully easy, making cyanide. Just gotta bind carbon and nitrogen and nip an electron and repeat.
Specs of death pile up in her palm, and her breath hitches. Her muscles tense, and her fingers twitch.
It's going to be over. It's going to be over. It's going to be over.
She closes her eyes and raises her hand and powder skitters to the floor with a jolt and she sobs.
"I didn't sacrifice myself for you to die."
Momo shakes her head, and colours swirl behind her eyelids.
"I'm sorry I lied to you."
No. No no no no.
Fingers dig into Momo's wrist and it's not in the past and it's not in the present because it's in her head and she whimpers.
"I had to save you."
"Creati, can you follow my voice?"
Is it a trap? It doesn't matter anymore. Momo's absolutely fucked in body and mind and all she really needs to do is just fucking die already.
"Yaoyorozu-san, I need your help, please ."
Momo lifts her head, weighed down by blood and lighted by empt y e y e s o c k e t s—
She grits her remaining teeth.
It's a little late for a plan, Midoriya.
"I need you to kill me."
She intakes a shaky breath.
"I can't do it myself; I'm too restrained. You can pull the chain around my neck. Please."
She shakes her head. (Ironic, considering she wants nothing more than death herself. Maybe she can kill herself after she—no, Deku can't die. Deku can't die.)
"One for All is bigger than any of this. We can't let them have it. Please," he sobs .
The heroes aren't coming for them—
—no—
—the villains can't have One for All—
—NO—
—it's better off dead than with them—
— NO —
—Momo crawls toward him.
He had to save his quirk.
Momo peels open an eye and looks at the remnants of the arsenic powder and the glow of One for All zigzagging across her hand, and she screams against clenched teeth and—
"Yaoyorozu-san."
—she cackles.