Twelve gruelling hours later, the sun had just about set. The air was thick with the stench of blood, sweat and scorched concrete.
Dante lay flat on his back on the cracked floor, limbs splayed, chest heaving, hair matted to his face. His limbs were trembling from the sheer volume of impacts they'd absorbed and bruises bloomed across his body like war medals. A bit of dried blood flaked from his lip when he exhaled.
Mirko stood over him, barely winded, a towel slung over her shoulder and a protein bar in hand. She chomped into it and looked down at Dante on the floor.
"You're a mess, bun bun." She said, voice light but edged with pride. "But you are a tough little bastard."
Dante didn't move, but one of his hands moved and flipped her off.
She snorted. "You're great at adapting. That sludge trick you used in the fifth hour to redirect my leg? That was great. I nearly ate concrete."
He groaned. "That was the plan."
Mirko paced a little, scratching her neck. "Most kids need months to start reacting instinctively. You picked it up perfectly after a dozen beatdowns and some pressure." She nodded to herself. "Not bad. You still like to think too much, but thankfully your body is catching on."
Dante finally sat up, arms shaking. "Thank you. I think. I can't feel my arms."
Mirko sighed. "You'll feel worse tomorrow. But hey, if you can survive me, you can survive anything. And if we were going for the kill, I'm sure you would be able to kill me real fast."
He leaned back against the wall, breathing through clenched teeth.
Mirko looked at him a moment longer, then tossed him a sports drink. "Come on, let's get back."
Dante caught it, barely. As he unscrewed the cap, he muttered, "how come I'm not hungry?"
Dante watched her for a second, wiped sweat from his face and stared down at his own hands, calloused, bruised and more conditioned.
He had survived 12 hours fighting her.
He looked up and Mirko was already gone.
Dante looked outside of the factory and saw her walking ahead with her hands behind her head, as casual as ever, like she hasn't just put him through hell.
Dante's phone buzzed in his pocket.
He groaned, half from pain and half from dread and fished it out.
Kendo.
He hesitated, then answered, "Hey."
"You let her pick up your phone?!" Kendo's voice came through sharp, but not angry, more flustered, like she didn't know if she should scold him or be embarrassed.
Dante winced. "I didn't even know, okay? I was completely knocked out on the couch."
"Still," she huffed. "That's… not cool. I was talking about my day and suddenly heard her voice!"
"I'm sorry," Dante muttered, rubbing the side of his neck. "She didn't say anything weird did she?"
"No," Kendo sighed. "She just asked if I was your girlfriend, then said you didn't seem like the type."
Dante nearly tripped on the sidewalk. "She what—"
"She's… blunt," Kendo chuckled a little now. "But it's fine. Just… always talk first if you're here, I won't say anything unless you talk first."
"Yeah, yeah, sorry." He glanced up at Mirko, who had no idea she was currently the cause of his second degree embarrassment. "You okay though? How's your internship going?"
Kendo's tone brightened. "It's cool, actually. Uwabami's intense in her own way. Lots of PR work, but she's teaching me crowd control and how to move in heels like they combat boots. That and we had to help her prepare for a commercial. Weirdly useful."
Dante smirked. "Sounds stylish, you don't seem like the type to wear heels."
"Shut up."
He chuckled under his breath. "Mirko threw me into an illegal underground cage fight yesterday."
There was a pause. "Wait, what?"
"Yeah it was crazy and to disguise myself I had to wear a bright pink mask, a bright pink vest and a bunny tail. Oh and I went under the alias 'Bun Bun.' It was horrible."
Kendo made a surprised noise. "That's hilarious. Did you win though?"
"Of course I did."
"Barely, what's up with your voice?" He heard her mutter.
Dante looked down at his scraped knuckles. "That's because she's been running me into the ground with training, too. Twelve hour sparring session today. Barely any breaks and she talks about what it meant to be a hero while trying to cave my skull in."
Kendo's voice softened. "She's really pushing you, huh?"
"She's just trying to make me better," he admitted. "It is working though."
"Just don't burn yourself out."
Dante paused. The concern in her voice caught him off guard. "I won't," he said quietly.
Kendo seemed to consider something, then spoke. "When we get back, maybe you could teach me whatever she taught you too?"
He blinked. "Yeah, that'd be fun."
They went quiet for a moment, both walking in completely different areas.
"I should probably go," Kendo said after a beat. "Uwabami wants us up early, got a shoot tomorrow."
"Get some rest."
"You too, Bun Bun."
He groaned. "Say goodbye to any hopes of me training you."
He quickly hung up as she started to laugh, "Why did I tell her that."
Dante stared at the phone in horror as Mirko glanced over her shoulder, smirking faintly. "Kendo, huh?"
"Shut up," Dante muttered.
Mirko laughed, stretching her arms as they walked into the apartment and flicked the lights on.
Dante slammed the door behind him, kicking off his shoes and bolting straight for the bathroom. "Shower's mine!" He yelled over his shoulder. Mirkos scoff echoed faintly from down the hall, but she didn't chase after him.
He flicked on the hot water, steam already fogging the mirror as he stripped off his sweat drenched clothes. The moment as the hot water hit his skin, he exhaled, one long breath that felt like it had been trapped in his lungs all day. His muscles groaned in protest but loosened under the heat. He tilted his head back, letting the water hit his face.
That's when he noticed something off.
A strange presence.
He opened his eyes.
He saw little Dante standing in the corner of the bathroom, soaked in blood and motionless. His expression was off, more so than usual. His mouth twitched as he continuously mumbled to himself.
"Where the hell have you been?" Dante asked, narrowing his eyes.
Little Dante didn't answer.
He just stared at Dante with a crooked head and a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "They were so yummy." He whispered, voice jagged like broken glass. "All of those people… I feel… stronger."
Dante's hand clenched. "What are you going on about?"
Little Dante began pacing slowly, dragging his bloodied fingers along the tiled wall. "When we kill people… when I absorbed them… EAT them… we take more than just their blood. We take power. We take parts of their power."
Dante's stomach twisted.
"Stop." He snapped.
Little Dante giggled. "I could eat them all. I can grow even stronger. Strong enough to kill and eat even more. You just have to let me—"
*BANG—!*
Dante's fist collided with little Dante's face, throwing him across the room. He didn't hit the wall, he just vanished into mist, like the punch shattered his existence.
The bathroom fell silent again.
A few seconds passed. Then little Dante's voice returned, softer now, steadier, less manic. "…Sorry. I got lost in it."
Dante got out of the shower, breathing heavily. "What are you talking about… absorbing strength?"
Little Dante stepped out of the steam again, calmer, no longer drenched in blood. "I don't know. But when I absorbed those people that tried to kill us… something stays within us. Not memories. Not their souls. Not their quirks. But their power. Their physicality. I feel like half of their strength got added on to ours." He looked at his hands. "I felt it after they got swallowed into my sludge. And after. It felt like I got stronger."
Dante was quiet for a moment.
Then he started to dry himself.
"…Have you ever felt this before?"
"No. Not like this."
Dante started to dry his hair.
He wanted to have this shower to relax.
But now all he could think about was how much stronger he could become if he decided to absorb his enemies.
But that's not what a hero would do.