Enter: Foxy
Squashed spider lilies surrounded a beat up body. Various injuries littered the stranger's skin as he laid unmoving on the dirty alley against a wall. The only sign he was still alive was the occasional groans and whimpers of pain that escaped his lips.
Maybe it was the cloudy weather, dulling the background colors, or it was the way the crimson flowers brought life to the still image. Whatever the reason was, Mikumo couldn't bring himself to avert his eyes from the sight. Such was a product of poetic and dystopian themes mixing together to bring about a scenery that would make Shakespeare come back to life.
Obviously, this should be a rather concerning image but, at that moment, Mikumo felt that he had never seen such a strangely beautiful scene. Not even his fantasies could compare to it.
For a moment, the thought that his view on aesthetics might be warped, crossed his mind before quickly being thrown aside when the beat up stranger opened his eyes to look at him, freezing him in place with his silver grey gaze.
A sudden spark, a flash of light, a sensation akin to snow thawing on the first spring morning filled Mikumo's entire being. There was a subconscious feeling that he and the unnamed stranger were connected much deeper than what could be seen at the surface, and it was obvious that the stranger felt the same, holding his gaze with dazed eyes before succumbing to unconsciousness.
And as such, Mikumo found himself caring for a stranger's injuries in a cheap motel room an hour later.
Sighing, he rubbed his forehead in confusion as he packed away the newly bought first aid kit from the convenience store downstairs. He himself didn't really understand why he was doing this for someone he had never met before but, there was an unsettling feeling in his gut that told him he would miss something extremely important if he just left him in that alley.
In any case, whoever beat up the guy must have really wanted him to suffer as much as possible. Mikumo recalled the large glass shard that he had to pluck out with a tweezer from the stranger's shoulder. Plus, the old bandages which hid a lot of self inflicted scars were concerning.
Mikumo had a lot on his plate already as it is. The last thing he wanted was to have a possibly suicidal stranger to add to the list. But he still saved him anyway so, maybe he wasn't as far gone as he originally thought.
Stretching his limbs, he surveyed the condition of the room, clicking his tongue in distaste upon the sight of dirty rugs, stained walls, and dull lights. Atleast the bedsheets seemed clean enough. As for whether cockroaches hid in dark corners, that was yet to be seen.
As the adrenaline-embued haze ebbed away, the gravity of what he'd done finally hit him. He, a killer of seven, had taken a passed out stranger to an unknown motel to heal. What the hell was he thinking?
Well, atleast he had the mind to not bring him back to Akatsuki because who knows what trouble would await him if a random stranger knew the location of a vigilante group (plus one villain). And he couldn't exactly take him to a clinic or a hospital since that would require some kind of identification from him. One which he obviously didn't have.
Still, what the hell had gotten into him? It's not like he was trying to play pretend heroes! He was way past that age now.
For now, he just resigned himself to wait for the stranger to wake up. So, with a resigned sigh, he sat down on a sufficiently clean chair in silence.
...
Breathing laboriously, Foxy tried to squint through red visions. The jagged wound on his forehead from last week seemed to have reopened during the beating, causing an excessive amount of blood to trail down, clouding his vision in a red filter.
He groaned in both pain and frustration. He'd just gotten it stitched too. Kanae-san would probably berate him again for coming to her clinic with extensive injuries for the second time this month.
He lowered his head sadly. Contrary to what most would believe, he wasn't sad for himself, despite the seemingly awful condition he was in currently. No, he was sad because the flowers which he had been taking care of for the whole day had been destroyed during the ruckus.
When an anonymous source sent him the flowers via his shoe locker early this morning at school, he had been looking forward to returning to the orphanage to replant them behind the building for the whole day.
Even though he was fully aware of the symbolic significance those specific flowers entailed.
And now, those same flowers surrounded his body as he bled to death in an unseen alley on this particularly cloudy winter day. He'll probably end up really dying if he were to fall unconscious right now. Since that was the case, might as well take a last look at the world before falling through.
Though, as he tiredly opened his eyes, was greeted him was a blurry silhouette of a person.
Did they come back to beat him again? Didn't they ever get tired?-
Were the last thoughts in his head before he finally passed out.
The next time he opened his eyes, he was in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by warm blankets and, from what he could tell, neat bandages wrapped around his wounds.
He blinked once. Then twice.
Ah, death, his elusive lover, has evaded his advances yet again.
Wincing inwardly, he was made aware of the additional wounds he would have to take care of in the near future as a price of continuing life.
The good thing though, was that he woke up in a soft and warm bed instead of the dirty alley he fell unconscious in. Now, if only that creepy feeling of being watched would go away too.
Upon the sound of a chair scraping on the floor as a stranger stood up, Foxy looked up to see his rescuer, a surprisingly short male with white hair, green eyes, and a frail stature. It made him wonder how such a person managed to drag him from the alley all the way to this place, wherever here was.
As the stranger opened his mouth to say something, a pair of grey fox ears twitched in recognition.
"Since you're awake, I'll be going. The room's already been paid for." The stranger said coldly, placing a paper bag on the table beside the bed. "There's water, bandages, pain killers, and antibiotics in the bag. You should still go to a hospital though. Bye."
Watching the stranger head towards the door, Foxy nearly leaped out of the bed as he exclaimed with mouth agape.
"Holy shit! You're Bunny!"
Two gazes interlocked, one in excitement and disbelief, the other in surprise and apprehension.
And thus, ten minutes later, Foxy sat on the bed after composing himself and pinching himself several times to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
In front of him, the newest and most talked about villain recently, Bunny, sat quietly, studying him.
Holy shit! He was in the same room as Bunny!
"What gave it away?" Bunny asked seriously, legs crossed as he assessed him as a possible threat.
Despite being a full head shorter than Foxy, he sure commanded such intimidating presence.
"Huh?- Oh, identity, right..." It took a moment for Foxy to realize what Bunny was talking about, feeling stupid as he tripped over his words. "It's the voice. I- um, my quirk is Sound Recognition."
With pursed lips, Bunny nodded in understanding. "That makes sense."
"..." As Foxy stared at Bunny while the villain thought quietly, he blurted out the first thought that came to mind. "So, will you kill me now?"
Caught off-guard, Bunny gave Foxy a questioning look.
"Cuz, you know... I found out about your identity..." Foxy trailed off, inwardly berating himself for being stupid. Again.
Though, surprisingly, instead of mocking him like he thought, the villain actually responded seriously.
"If you met me three days ago and exposed my identity, I would have killed you, no questions asked." Bunny said with a blank expression. "But, recently, I've learned that murder isn't always the answer."
"Oh." Foxy mumbled as his ears drooped, somehow feeling disappointed.
"So, what do you want in return for keeping my identity a secret." Staring straight into Foxy's eyes, Bunny's tone turned sharp.
Contrary to both people's expectations, Foxy's mouth began moving on their own yet again.
"Can I have your number?"
"Huh?"