Knock knock knock.
"Makima?"
Knock knock knock.
"Makima? Kid? Please come out."
Knock knock knock.
"I made your favourite breakfast!"
No response.
Shinsou Masato sighs and retreats from Makima's door. "I just don't know what's up with her today. Did we do something last night? I don't think I was too tipsy, did seeing me drunk upset her?"
His wife Nori shakes her head. "I don't think that's it, dear. And she was just opening up, too. Now she's back to cooping up in her room. Was it something at school yesterday?"
"No, she seemed fine when she came home…"
Hitoshi pokes at his pancakes, gut clenching and unclenching as his parents debate why Makima was acting this way. Only he was there, only he bore witness to what exactly happened, and the full extent of it eludes him as well.
The night had progressed relatively normally, except Makima had not gotten drunk no matter how much she drank. Even now his mind reels wondering how on earth anyone could humanly achieve that, and he doesn't think it's because she's secretly part Finnish. Then, after caring for him when he puked into the toilet and panicked about being caught, she grabbed his hand and said…
"This is a contract. Shinsou Hitoshi will not hate Makima if Makima helps him not get caught drinking."
He's scared, now, because that feeling of power, the binding power of that contract he had no idea she could invoke, makes itself known. He can feel its iron chains upon his mind, subtle yet ever-present.
Makima had sent her quirk through his mind afterwards in its normal chain form, and his mind had briefly fogged. He could never forget the surreal feeling of his body and mind forcing itself to act completely natural. After she had run off and locked herself in her room, his parents had gone to bed. An hour later, his symptoms had returned and he quietly secluded himself in the bathroom to puke the rest out, giving the whole room a wipe-over and a heavy spray of air freshener before he tucked himself back into bed.
Cut to now, his parents are worrying and she herself remains locked in her bedroom. Standing up, he quietly excuses himself and walks down the hall, returning to the door. It stares back at him as he raises his hand tentatively, an uncharacteristic nervousness in the dry-witted boy as he gives it a quiet knock.
"I know you're listening, Makima. I'm… I'm not mad."
Silence.
"I don't hate you, you know. Can you let me in?"
No response.
"...I want to talk about the contract."
After a tense few seconds, the door clicks open, and Hitoshi walks through, seeing Makima swaddled in her blankets in the corner, staring up at him, her ringed yellow eyes glowing in the dark. For the first time, he makes the connection they may have with hypnosis. The effect is disconcerting.
"Makima?"
She shivers and shakes under the covers, and Hitoshi comes closer to try and hear what she's saying, eliciting a strong flinch.
"What was that?"
"Please don't make me go away. I don't want to go back. Don't make me go back."
His stomach drops. "I-I, uh… I…" what could he say? "What do you mean?"
Shakingly, she meets his eyes. "I made you do it. I forced you. I made you take the contract."
He blinks. "That's what this is about? Look, I don't care if you used your quirk on me. One time, I used mine on my Dad for a joke, and he didn't get mad at all."
"It's not the same. I'm not the same," she mumbles. "I'm too different. I'm missing something. I don't know what it is, and I don't know how to find it."
"I'm not angry," he reassures, but the words bounce right off.
"You're just saying that," she breathes, voice quivering. "You don't know what you're talking about. I made you say that, because you don't have a choice, and as soon as you get a choice you'll get rid of me. I-I want to stay! I won't let you make me go!"
"I don't hate you!"
"I MADE YOU NOT HATE ME!" she screams. "T-The second I end the contract, you'll hate me! You'll throw me out, just like Mr. Asa!"
"I won't!" he insists, but… he doesn't have any way of proving it. "Look, I get it, I do! I've got pretty much the same quirk! Everyone accuses me of making people like me or be nice to me or anything else at school as well! You're there, you would know!"
"At least you have a Mom and Dad!" Makima chokes. "At least you were born w-with a house, and a TV, and nice food, and a family! I-I don't even know what happened with me! Some guy just found me in an alleyway! My parents probably abandoned me because they hated me or something!"
Hitoshi pales. "What?"
"Nobody can trust me. Nobody can love me. Nobody can feel safe around me," Makima despairs, grabbing her head. "Back in the orphanage, I was a monster! I made everyone obey me! I forced them to listen and I b-blackmailed them and controlled them and did horrible things if they tried to fight back! I'm evil! I'm a villain! I-I always thought one day a hero would come to arrest me, o-or someone would finally get fed up and kill me! I-I don't even feel like a person sometimes. You don't get it. You don't know. I've been hiding my true quirk, Hitoshi!"
"You've what?"
"I can hear and see through animals. I've been listening to everything you and your mom and dad have been saying! I can control them! I can control people! I c-can make a contract, an unbreakable contract, e-even make it that if you break it you'll die instantly, and force you to agree to it! T-There's no limit, no avoiding it! I-I can put thoughts in your head! I-I can make you do anything!"
Hitoshi pauses as his thoughts catch on that phrasing. "That's… wait a minute."
This seems to throw even Makima off "Wait for what?"
"You… can put thoughts in my head. Make us do anything."
"Yes," Makima confirms.
"Why not make us look after you, or take care of you, or… like you?"
"T-That would be- it would be tiring, and…" Makima's voice trails off, the excuse sounding pathetic even to her own ears. Because if that really stopped her, she could take it slow, attack at night, assert her sinuous threads of control in the shadows and entwine the whole household in a web easily. Her stamina hasn't seriously limited her for a while now. Her quirk's grown in.
"...You want us to like you for real," Hitoshi realizes. "You do, don't you? That's why, despite everything, you never forced me to think anything… until now, I guess, but I don't think I would've hated you either way. You helped me, you know."
"You're lying," Makima gulps. "O-Or you're not but that's just because I forced you not to. As soon as I let you go you'll tell Mr. And Mrs. Shinsou and they'll throw me away forever."
"I won't."
"Prove it."
Hitoshi freezes.
"Prove it! " she wails, her usually-obstinate face giving way to true misery. He can see in her eyes more than anything she wants him to prove he's telling the truth, prove he won't judge her. She wants him to prove it so badly, so she can finally let go. It would be the easy way to resolve all of this. But he can't prove it.
"I can't," he says. Makima's head slumps, all energy draining from her body. Hesighs.
"At the end of the day, if you're always controlling me… you'll never know my honest answer," Hitoshi continues. "It's a leap of faith. I can't force you to do anything. You have all the cards. You can silence me forever. You can make me forget. You… you could make me fall asleep and never wake up, and nobody would ever know. But…"
As her head lifts, he meets her eyes head on. "You don't want to leave. I know you want to remove that contract, right? You said 'the second I end the contract'. You've considered it. I don't think you want to be forcing me, do you?"
Tears well up in her eyes. "N-No… but I have to!"
"You don't ," he insists. "I… for the longest time I didn't understand you. I still don't, really, you're a goddamn mystery. But on that roof, even when you refused to answer pretty much every single question I felt like I actually knew you for once. I felt like… for the first time, it was kind of actually like having a sister, instead of you just living here."
" W-What?" she gasps, breathless. "N-No, you don't mean that , you don't like me- "
"Yeah, not really," he bulldozes through her insecure rambling. "You're kind of cold and annoying and brag all the time and you know way too much about dogs, but you're also helpful and you get what it's like at school and I think… I think you care about me at least a little. I'd like to get to know you, and to get to like you. You want to stay, right? You like my Mom and Dad. I can tell you want to be part of the family, right?"
Makima sits, silent, pleading with her eyes like it's an offer too good to be true, and when she answers she says it like she's confessing a dirty secret. "Yes."
"Then you have to trust me," Hitoshi finished. "I can't force you and I can't prove it as long as you're in control, Makima. You'll never know as long as you use that contract to force me, You just have to trust me."
Makima doesn't respond, wiping her tears with the bedsheets, lost in thought. Hitoshi can see her cracking, can see that imperceptible barrier between she and he thinning by the second. He decides to give it just one more light push.
"Makima? Can you trust me?"
"..." She hangs her head again.
"I…" he begins anew. "I don't know how hard it's been for you. Without… my parents, or anything else, I have no idea what I'd be doing. If I was just born out there like you, with absolutely nothing, maybe I would've turned out way worse. I… I don't think you're the monster you think you are, Makima. Or at least, you don't have to be. Things can be different now, and you can let go… sis."
She opens her mouth, flapping it like a fish, and speaks.
"The contract is considered fulfilled and all stipulations end."
Hitoshi gasps as her mental grip loosened on his mind, a brief surge of panic flaring up now that it wasn't smothered by her order and…! And nothing more. He doesn't hate her. He never hated her. Hitoshi felt pretty much exactly the same. He brings his gaze back up to see her hiding under her covers, and scooches up to the side of the bed. She recedes further, and he decides to settle for putting one arm around the pile.
"I don't hate you," he speaks.
"You don't?" she whispers, voice hitched.
"Nope. in fact… do you want to know what I really think?"
Red hair in a braid pokes out and Makima meets his perpetually-tired eyes. "W-What do you think?"
Hitoshi grins. "I'm really goddamn jealous that your quirk is so much cooler than mine."
Begrudgingly, Hitoshi sits on the couch next to Makima watching a movie about a hero crawling through the air vents as she eats Thirteen-brand mochi right out of the packet. A few days had passed since… everything. When Makima opened up to him about the full scope of her quirk, about how she thought the Shinsous would throw her out, about… what he would characterize as a full-blown meltdown if he were a bit ruder.
For now, draped in a fluffy blanket and lounging like a layabout, she's looking about back to normal, save for a new light lingering in her spiral eyes and a lightness to the way her shoulders are squared. A burden's been removed, if one cares to examine close enough, even if familiar walls have been half-erected again.
The door clicks open, Mom and Dad stepping back into the room. "Well, you two sure have been getting along lately!" His Dad, Masato chuckles, reaching a hand out to ruffle his hair. He ducks under it and shoots him a half-serious dirty look, and from the corner of his eye catches Makima's envious stare.
Nori, his mother, evidently sees it, because she circles around the couch beside Makima and puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Look at you, all comfy down there. What're you watching?"
"Mic Hard. It's an action-comedy about Present Mic behind forced to do a stealth mission," she answers blandly.
"Are you liking it?"
She nods."The cinematography is uninspired and the plot is simple, but I like it. He's saving the world from a gang of deaf terrorists."
"Sounds like a blast!" Masato remarks. "I'll just set the groceries down. Dear, could you give me a hand?"
"Of course." Hitoshi observes as Nori's hand leaves her shoulder and her head follows where she strides across the counter, beginning to unpack vegetables and put them in the fridge. He can feel the couch and smell the sunshine and it's sublimely domestic, and the thought crosses Hitoshi's mind that it's not the kind of thing she would've experienced often.
"You really like hero movies, huh?" She tilts her head to the side, as if asking for clarification. "I mean, even I think this movie is garbage. If it wasn't about present mic I swear you would've dropped it already, and I'm the one who wants to be a hero!"
Makima stares back at the screen. "Do you think the creators truly, genuinely believed in making the world a better place? That this movie about defeating global terrorists would inspire others to rid the world of evil?"
"...No, I think they wanted to make a hundred jokes about Present Mic yapping too much."
"Probably," she concedes, toying with her long red chain braid. "But the idea's still in there, isn't it? I like it. I like people."
"People are overrated."
"Aren't you trying to be a hero?"
Hitoshi's interrupted by a pinch on the cheek, Nori reappearing. "Oh, he doesn't mean that. Our prickly little hedgehog's just shy, aren't you, honey?"
"No mom, stop mom, hands off my face mom."
"Is that how you talk to your mother?"
"No mom please."
"That's better!" She acquiesces. "Now, that pot of coffee's got my name on it. Want any?"
"Sure," he answers dispassionately.
"I'll have some too please," Makima blurts out. Well, she says it calmly, but it's unexpected enough to throw him for a loop. Though her voice and face are as neutral as ever there's a trace nervousness in her posture and eyes, and she apprehensively watches it as the delicious dark ichor fills three steaming mugs.
Hitoshi watches as she takes a small sip and grimaces. "You don't like it, huh? I knew you only liked sweet things."
"I wanted to try it," she protests. "How can you and Mrs. Shinsou stand it? It's so bitter and disgusting. People shouldn't drink this."
"We drink it to feel awake. The taste is something you grow to love, like a thorn in your ass."
"Why would you love that?"
"It's an expression, Makima."
"It's a stupid expression, Hitoshi."
"Is not."
"Is too."
An hour passes on the couch. The movie ends and Makima picks another. She's a dictator with the remote but after sher covered up his drunkenness that night, he owes her a solid, and he'll watch just about anything.
"Feeling any more awake yet from the coffee?"
"Pardon?" She shuffles in her blankets, and one slips down her shoulder. She tugs it back up frustratedly, lured out of her comfy position. He shuffles over closer to her on the couch and lowers his voice, though both parents are elsewhere in the house doing who knows what.
"Feeling awake yet? The coffee? Caffeine?"
She blinks.
"Okay, remember up on the roof? How much Vodka did you drink? You drunk way more than me."
"Thirty shots."
"See, that's inhuman." She flinches. "How the hell does a person do that? So I was thinking it might be the same for caffeine."
"I guess," she murmurs. "But it doesn't make sense, and I don't have an explanation for it. My quirk is Brain Chain."
"Except… is it?" She looks at him quizzically. "Look, you told me you can see through animals, you can make deals, you can shoot the chain to control people but you feel like you should be able to do it without the chain too, and even make people think things they didn't think before. You know what that sounds like to me?"
"What?"
"Control."
She shudders. The word sends a dubious tingle through her spine. It feels right, like a puzzle piece slotting perfectly into place. Hitoshi, caught in his own theorizing, doesn't notice.
"If your quirk was just a more general control, it would explain all the different overpowered stuff you can do, and maybe you're subconsciously controlling the alcohol and caffeine inside you?"
"That sounds… plausible." She doesn't intend to update her quirk registry. At a younger age she may have been foolish enough to do that, but she knows the ways the world works now. It would just invite trouble. "Thank you, Hitoshi."
He shrugs. "Just makes sense."
She turns back to the television, aware that his critical eye lingers on her. A few minutes later, she turns back. "Was there still something you wanted?"
"Just… observing something."
"What were you observing?"
"Did you know in the last three minutes you only blinked once?"
Hitoshi's observant about little things like that, it turns out, and with somebody who ostensibly cares and notices her everyday, questions begin to come up about how much she eats while still staying the same shape, or how she notices people around corners before she sees them even when she's not seeing through the eyes of birds or rats. The two of them chalk it up to her absurdly broad quirk, which Hitoshi laments as 'the way, way, way cooler and more powerful sister of mine.' Makima appreciates the label and wears it with only a hint of smugness.
School is the same. A few months pass, and the two section themselves off into their own little alcoves away from everyone else. Every day after school the two of them make an excuse to his parents, take a detour to the park nearby, and practice their quirks.
For Hitoshi, it's training with a peer for hero school in the future. Why not start now? He wouldn't have considered it before, having as many friends as he had good nights of sleep, but with Makima around he has an always available and always-willing testbed for Brainwash. She doesn't seem to like being under its influence, but still lets him do it. He makes her punch herself in the face or walk to certain placers, testing the limits and bounds of his phrasing.
For Makima, it's something deeper, like a primal urge being fulfilled. She keeps one chain steady, then a second, then a third. Birds swarm around her and become her mini sentries like she's a fairytale princess, though the effect is slightly offset by the rats and insects that join them. Her training is more subtle, and one day she makes him believe the moon is made of cheese, the next forces him to 'admit' dogs are better than cats (a blatant lie), and compels him to sign a contract turning all his earthly possessions over to her. She renounces the last one and makes fun of him for not having any. He retorts that she has none of her own and she gets all huffy about it. He forgets the conversation until the day after, where she barges into his room with a little devil plushie and announces that she bought it with money her animals scrounged up, not what his parents allotted her, and therefore she owns more things than him now.
Using her quirk more makes her feel freer, makes her feel stronger, makes her feel more whole. Her relationship with Hitoshi is improving too, and she appreciates it, even if it's hard to voice to him and he doesn't seem the type to be loud about it either.
But using her quirk, now self-titled as 'Control', comes with its own side effects - her dreams return in full force.
One night, the second her head hits the pillow after an exhaustive evening of amateur critique of old soviet films she'd found an archive of online, she's transported to a city street at night. It looks familiar, but dirty, and the streetlamps glow warmly down on her and her companion as they walk beside each other. She's half blind and half-deaf, but words pierce the veil, laced with youth and energy.
"That last one… I'm pretty sure I'll remember it till the day I die."
"Me too," she answers, her lips unmoving. Who said that? " That more than covered the cost of today's tickets."
A pause. She looks at the person beside her. They're blurry, but she thinks she can make out a mess of shaggy blonde hair. "Makima?"
She stops walking.
"Do you think I have a heart?" he asks. His voice trembles. Insecurity leaks in. She can relate.
"Why are you asking something like that?" she responds.
"I don't really know why…"
Makima has no idea who this is or what's going on, and yet Makima throws her head against the boy's chest.
She hears the rev of a chainsaw.
And she wakes up.
An hour later, Makima hunches over the keyboard of the family computer with twenty tabs open, scouring the internet for something, anything she can about that boy, because this time she remembers a name.
'Denji.'
"Denji."
345,000 Results. None of them are right.
"Chainsaw Man"
27,890 results. None of them were the spectre haunting her dreams, the one that she couldn't quite remember the look of yet perfectly remembers the sound of, the revving of the motor and whirring of the blades, the smell of oil and blood and smoke. She doesn't know who Chainsaw Man is, but she knows it's important, and none of these other search results are right.
Another name pops into her head. "Pochita."
0 Results.
Makima tugs on her braid in irritation, slight bags under her eyes, when suddenly the light flicks on behind her, and she whips around.
"Makima?"
"Hitoshi," she answers. "What are you doing up?"
"Open a curtain and ask me that again," he grunts out. "I'm getting a coffee."
"That's dumb. Why would you drink coffee when it's-" she pulls the drapes aside and sunlight pours in, momentarily blinding her. She stands there until her eyes adjust to it and turns back. "Ah."
"Yeah. Ah. Now, mind telling me what you were doing on the computer since, like… I dunno, all of last night? " Sitting down at the dinner table, he takes a sip of the disgusting concoction and raises an eyebrow expectantly at her. The noxious smell distracts her. "And why your hand's there?"
"What?"
"Why are you holding your heart like that? I'm the one drinking all the coffee, no way you're getting a heart attack first," he quips.
Makima's eyes trail down to her bedshirt, and yes, her hand is clutching at the fabric over her heart tight, which she just now realizes has been thundering nonstop since she woke up from the dream. The dream or… memories? Of what? No, it had to be a dream.
But the emotions felt real, like she felt them just yesterday.
"Makima? Do you think I have a heart?"
In that moment, everything suppressed comes leaking back out. Anger. Rage. JEALOUSY. Her hand clenches her shirt tighter, and unbeknownst to herself, Makima shakes where she sits. Of course Denji would ask that, stupid, gullible, insignificant Denji, asking the dumbest questions and led by the leash like a dog. A grinning idiot, useful only in-
Only in what? She doesn't think like this. She doesn't even know the guy. Why is she angry at him? He just asked a question. The last sentence, cut off, slips away.
Why would he ask? He already had a heart. She could hear it revving, clear as day. Why would he doubt it?
Why did someone like him get to have a heart?
Why didn't she?
"Makima, you're spacing out and you look very not okay. I'm gonna go call Mom and Dad."
"Don't." She growls. Hitoshi freezes, and sits back down. Instantly, she realizes her voice was laden with compulsion, and dispels it. Hitoshi snaps back up again, taking a minute step back.
"Don't go! I-I-It was a mistake! Wait!" her voice trembles.
Hitoshi examines her, then sits back down. "Okay. I believe you. But can you tell me… what exactly was going on?"
"I… I don't know how to explain."
"That's fine. I can sit here and listen. Got nothing better to do. Plus, I'm your brother, right? Seems like a brotherly thing to do," he answers.
Makima squirms in her seat, opposite him, cradling a glass of nothing she wishes was a sugary soda or something. "I've been having… dreams."
"Nightmares?" He looks sympathetic. "I don't get them, so I can't relate, but that sounds like it sucks."
"No, just… they're… strange. I'm in them, but I'm not me, I'm… different. Doing, saying different things. It's like it's… my future. And in them, I'm always chasing after something I can't remember. I forget most of them, but last night I remembered a lot. I don't understand it at all, but in them I'm… jealous. Angry. A monster. And… lonely."
It's a rock off her chest to admit the last one, even to herself. "I wake up and I feel completely empty, like I'm not even alive. Like I'm not a person. Just… a thing."
"You're not a monster," Hitoshi instantly jumps in. "And you're not alone. You've got me and Mom and Dad."
"They're your parents."
"That ship sailed six months ago. They're yours too," he retorts. She falls silent.
"I don't know anything about dream theory, but I do know this," he begins again. "You're not some… psychopath monster like you think. I don't even know how you get around to thinking that, but I guess if everyone at school's terrible to me 'cause of my quirk and yours is way more powerful I've got a good guess. But you're still, like, a person. Like me, but weird and more powerful. I'm not doing a really good motivational speech by the way so feel free to cut me off and-"
"That's what I wanted to hear," Makima gracefully cuts in. "...Thanks. You're… an okay brother."
"I'll settle for a passing grade. Now, if you're really so afraid of misusing your quirk, wanna go train it some more?"
Like a thirst, the urge to put Control to use tugs at Makima. She does. She wants to use it. She wants to-
She cuts her own thoughts off again. That's not her. She wants to hang out with her brother, that's what she wants to do. She wants to practice with her quirk for the future.
"That sounds fun," she smiles genuinely. "Maybe it'll take my mind off this. We just need to wait for your- for…"apprehension's clear in her voice, and Hitoshi waits, recognizing where this is going. "...we need to wait until Nori or Masato wake up."
It's progress. He'll take it.
Makima and Hitoshi stand in the middle of a clearing in the local park. It's a bright, sunny day, and a huge flock of birds flies in circles, Makima its maestro. Each flies in formation, and Hitoshi watches her carefully.
"How're you feeling?"
"Only a little bit of motion sickness," she answers absently. She's absorbed with looking through each of the birds' 360-degree vision at once. Her world is a whirling blurring inconsistent nightmare that threatens to make her vomit, but the cup never tips over. It feels like she was built for it.
"Okay, now let's go for all the bugs," Hitoshi states. Makima drops control and the birds slowly break their rhythm, descending from the sky and settling in perfectly concentric circles around her, reminiscent of her eyes. Hitoshi watches in muted amazement. "Right, how many bugs are nearby?"
Makima closes her eyes, and is about to give him an answer that'll leave him feeling itchy for weeks when a voice calls out, "You two!"
She smells them before she sees them, that strange sense that nobody else she knows has. A hero in spandex with a star-shaped collar approaches. For a second, Hitoshi looks westruck, before his expression schools into a wary caution and he hunches a little. Makima observes the man curiously. "Yes?"
"Heya kids, local hero Starlet here. How're you two doing?"
Makima doesn't look at the hero's face. Instead, she looks at their boots, which keep themselves a fair distance away from the two.
"Good," Hitoshi answers. "Something we can help you with?"
"Oh, no, nothing at all, nothing at all!" the hero reassures. "I was just making sure you two are okay? The other kids around here are a little worried."
"Are they, now?" Hitoshi rolls his eyes. "What did they say this time?"
"Hey now, why the attitude?" The hero bristles at his tone, seemingly a bit offended. "They're just concerned about you two, making sure you're up to no good."
"Well, we're up to good, so leave us alone."
"They said you were mistreating the animals, and your quirks are v-"
"She's just borrowing them for a bit-!"
"Don't interrupt me, kid, or-"
"Or what?" Hitoshi growls. "What the hell's your problem?"
"Miss!" Makima interrupts the two, giddy delight in her eyes. "Wow! A real hero! Sorry, I-I guess I was just a little starstruck… c-can I have your autograph?" She nervously shifts her scarlet braid from one side of her neck to the other, eyes shyly pointed at her shoes. The hero doesn't see it, but Hitoshi wonders if she's gone mad, an incredulous look on his face.
"Well! That's more like it! Sure thing, kiddo!" the hero brightens up, reaching through their pocket. Makima's eyes are trained on them, unblinking the whole time, her smile frozen and plastered on her face. "Who's this for?"
"Makima, miss! Wow, it's so cool to meet a hero! I've never met a hero before!" Makima simpers. Can you show me a special move?"
"Aww, alright, take a look at this!" They point a hand in the sky and a star-shaped beam shoots out, traveling a short distance before bursting into a miniature fireworks show. Eye candy for the kids, Hitoshi recognizes, but Makima eagerly eats it up.
"That's so cool! Do you beat up villains?"
"All the time!" They exclaim. "Super-strong ones too, to keep kids like you safe!"
"That's awesome! You must be so strong that you want to beat them badly, huh? Are you ever scared?"
"Me? Scared? Pfft, nah," they waved it off. "A hero is never scared."
"Then why were you scared of my brother just now?"
They freeze, smile emptying of substance. "What?"
"Why did you want to fight him? I saw you move just for a second!" Makima grins, cheery demeanour still kept up. "Is he a villain too? Am I a villain? Are you gonna beat me up?"
"N-No, of course not, that's ridiculous, I'd never beat up your brother, I-!"
"Tell me the truth," her voice rings out, sickly-sweet and plucking the nerves of her brain like harpstrings. The melody compels the real answer from her.
"I-I did, but he's a villainous-"
"Am I villainous too, miss hero? Are you gonna fight me?" Makima goads. The hero steps backwards out of fear and Makima takes a step forward. "Are youscared of me? That's a bad look. You're being so mean. I'm just a helpless little kid!" The grin stretches across her face, an expression of true joy as the helpless hero squirms underneath her gaze despite the fact they're almost twice her height. "Hitoshi, get your camera out and start filming. Let's make her admit it again. She was tempted to fight a kid. Do you want me to ruin your career, Miss Hero?"
"Makima, stop it. " Who said that? She ignored it, luxuriating in the feeling of control. How dare this lowly hero try to mess with what's hers? It's their own fault, and she's just doing what's necessary to make sure they never do it again. She's removing evil from the world. What else was she born for? Glorious purpose thrums through her veins as her eyes glow, burning spinning rings boring into the helpless figure now on the grass, gibbering pathetically.
"Makima, stop!"
"Apologize, and maybe you can keep your job," she smirks, hands tucked behind her back. They stare up into her hypnotic eyes. "Are you even listening? Apologize."
"MAKIMA!"
Her head whips back to Hitoshi and he closes his eyes to avoid being sucked into her compelling gaze. "This is way too fucking far! Drop it, now! She's not worth it!"
Why should she? Why does he care? Why - Makima shakes her head. Those thoughts don't feel like hers. The feelings don't feel like hers. They can't be hers, because she's… because…
She can;t think of a reason. "Fine," she mumbles, and looks back at the hero.
"Forget this ever happened, and… stop thinking there's villanous quirks," she orders. The hero blinks a few times, gets up, and wanders off in a trance. "There. Happy?"
"No, I'm not happy! What the hell was that? We could've just, just walked away, you know!" Hitoshi agonizes, running a stressed hand through his fluffy purple hair. "Jesus. Fuck. Did you- and you screwed with their mind at the end too! You- You changed them!"
"For the better," Makima argues, tone obstinate. "I made them a better person. They won't bully us anymore. I did it for you. Why are you mad at me?"
"I'm… I'm mad because…" he fumbles for words. "Because I know you don't want to be this! You told me, remember? You don't want to have to control people, and I told you you need to trust people. You can't trust people can be better if you just change them before they can. Even if they never do, fucking with their heads, it's- it's not right!"
"I…" she shakes her head again, and it aches. "You're right. Sorry. I did say that. I… I forgot, I think."
"Was it… that weird dream?"
"Yes. No. Maybe," she falls back and sits on the fresh green grass. "I don't know. I'm scared, Hitoshi. I've been having the dreams my whole life. They're getting more vivid. I don't want to lose myself."
"You won't. That… that night when you decided to trust me, you chose to be better than that," Hitoshi challenges. "So now I'm holding you to that. Get up, Sis. Let's head home."
"...Okay."