I woke up in something of a sweat.
Not necessarily a cold sweat, but a sweat regardless, which I feel is worth mentioning.
When I looked in the mirror, I noticed that except for my hair, which bled out all color overnight, and the scar across my face, my appearance returned to how it was before the accident. Well, almost. My eyes had a hint of blue in them. But that was inconsequential.
I beamed. Finally, I'd be able to look properly at things without sunglasses in the mornings!
"Was it that bad?"
"Shut up, it's the-huh?"
I looked to the side, but there was no one there. Looking back at the mirror, I saw Gojo smiling cheekily at me, blindfold and all.
"Cool, isn't it? Now we can talk to each other easily."
"You know, I'm starting to wonder if I should just get an exorcist and be done with you. I even know a guy who goes to my school that works at one of them. I think his name was Shigeo? No, Shigeo's his brother, it's Ritsu..."
"I'm sure that he wouldn't be able to help you if he was even a sorcerer in the first place."
"Nah, he's legit, saw it when he awakened. Also, what's a sorcerer?"
"Oh yeah, forgot that we're not in my world. So-"
As Gojo started explaining, the door to mom's room turned, before the door itself was pushed open. A wheelchair in a light green aura rolled out on its own, the light growing fainter for every three feet past the door.
"Hold on, I gotta help mom up from bed."
"Did she have a stroke?"
"Her back got blown out."
"Did someone break her back in some weird sex thing, or like did she fall, or-"
Explosion accident. Gave me my scar too.
"Ah, I see. Wait are you thinking your thoughts to me?"
Yeah. I don't want mom to think I'm crazy, I worry enough about that on my own. Already got enough problems, I thought with a sad smile spreading across my face.
"I see."
Gojo was silent as I pushed the wheelchair to mom, then helped her into her chair and started our routine. He would remain that way until I made it to school.
...
"So . . . what happened to your dad?"
I choked on my meal almost instantly. As people started looking in my direction, tears came out of my eyes as I hit my chest, trying to get the fish out of my throat. I managed to cough it up before anyone made it to where I was, although that's only if you don't count the speedster.
I don't count him because I said to me, not make it to me then desperately try to stop yourself from slamming into the wall, because you forgot how inertia works, to then trip yourself and die.
I glared at Gojo, who I couldn't see, so basically everyone except the man in question got the message to screw off.
I can't decide if you did that on purpose, knowing that this is how people die, or you just didn't know, or you forgot how to die by choking because of your ability, but I swear to god, you do that again, I'll find a way to kill you.
"Sorry about that."
And we don't talk about Hisashi, 'kay?
"...I see."
Cool. So, what did you want to talk to me about?
"No, nothing, just keep going on."
Have you..is this your first time seeing the outside world?
"Hmm? Yeah. I'll talk to you again when I finish thinking about your training."
Ok, cool! You do that, I said, a happy smile forming on my face while I finished the fried fish and green onions with hash browns mom made in a bento, just to say that being crippled didn't mean she was now helpless. I should let her do more things around the house.
...
When I was walking back home, Gojo piped up again.
"Hey, I found a way to train you."
Oh, really?
"Yeah. I must admit, this is the first time I've tried this exercise against someone who didn't come from my universe. Although that was mostly for lack of opportunity."
"You don't say," I said, forgetting that I was alone and to anyone behind me would wonder who I was talking to. This is only going to get harder as you influence more and more of my senses, huh?
"Yep. But anyway, what we need to do is to improve your focus."
Shouldn't we work on my physical strength first?
"This is a start to that. I'll explain when you go home. Just trust me, ok?"
Trust him?
My skepticism must have echoed throughout my brain, because Gojo all but shouted in my brain in the second after, with all the vindictiveness of someone who was just told they weren't good enough. By a child less than an eighth of his age, no less.
When he finished, I brought up his age again.
Well, I don't. Think you're competent as a teacher, I mean. For one, we're in a whole different world than yours. Those rules might not even work the same.
"They would have to: I wouldn't have been able to come here in the first place if they didn't."
Hmm. And you're old as hell, anyways. Who's to say there wasn't an easier way to train it by the time you were on your death bed, old man?
My one regret is that I wasn't able to see the meltdown happen in front of my own eyes.
...
There was a surprise waiting for me when I got home.
When I went to open the door, mom was waiting for me, same as usual. I guided her to the dinner table, same as usual. But then something happened.
I was messing around, throwing a box of what I assumed to be knobs up and down, when I tried to snatch it out of the air sideways, with my right hand.
At the time of this throw, I was left-handed.
Instead of grabbing it with the surgical precision of...well a surgeon, I smacked it out of the air with all the grace of a diseased cat, right at my mom.
To top it off, the box seemingly had no tape covering it, as razor blades were thrown out of the box, which is not my fault, they were Hisashi's, that's on him.
They were flying at the side of her face, the little blades almost spinning as they fell out of the box. Mom saw them coming and stopped them, but that wasn't the surprise. Her whole quirk was telekinesis; it would be a bit concerning if she didn't.
No, the surprise was that she leaned to the side, almost tipping beyond return, and using telekinesis to throw her arm up while stopping the razor blades.
The shock must have shown on my face, because mom blushed a little, still using her telekinesis to use her hand to emote while setting the razor blades back in the box and putting them back in the drawer I took them out of.
"I used to be able to lift you with my quirk when you were four, you know. I've gained some weight, so my arms are a little heavy than what feels natural, and it's weird controlling them delicately, which is why I've avoided doing it until it felt natural and I can do more than flail my arms around. It's like babies' first finger moves, don't you think?" Inko said with a small laugh.
"Oh!" Inko said, still using her arm to motion me to come closer. I'm in a daze at this point, even as I move closer. I never thought that I'd ever, I...I don't even know what to say.
Mom roped me back into a hug with her hand. "I also tried artificially lowering and raising my range, and found that the closer things are to me, the heavier I can lift things. I still can't lift myself, but I can do this!"
Grabbing both sides of her chair with her telekinetically controlled arms, she focuses. Her aura expands around herself slowly, and my mom lifts herself out of the chair and stands.
I start crying, tears welling up on my face while I bite the inner part of my cheek to wake myself from what seems to be a very real, bizarre dream in which something good happened.
And I stare at her, not wanting to ruin the fragile concentration that I can tell she's pushing to her limit. She manages a tired smile, before hurriedly putting herself back in the chair and all but collapsing in her chair.
And I crash into her, memories flashing of all the times she's run to me.
From the playground, when she found me after standing up to Bakugo.
From the tv, when I asked if I could be a hero.
From when she grabbed me, saving me from the worst of the incident.
When she won the custody case for me.
Always running towards me, to comfort me, comfort herself.
And She grabs me.
And we cry together.
...
Days later, Gojo tells me that he'll guide me on a mindfulness exercise.
He told me he needed me to do whatever he says, no matter how questionable.
I told him that he wasn't doing himself any favors, but went to do it anyways.
"Close your eyes, and relax," Gojo says, an evenness to his voice not usually heard. It's serene.
That thought must have boosted his ego, because the next few lines are said with less of that serenity. It doesn't matter to me at this point, though.
I feel completely detached from reality. Yet at the same time, I feel hyper-focused on that reality. My usual senses, except for sound and touch, are extra crisp: the wood of the mat stings, and Gojo's voice is a calm boom, the sound of a god with no need for intimidation. Because it doesn't matter what they do in the end. He will get what he wants.
"Picture your friends."
When no image comes to mind, Gojo changes tactics.
"Picture your enemies."
Bakugo, lackey number 1 and 2, Hisashi.
"Do you hate them?"
Yes. He knows this. I know he knows this, but I say it out loud anyways.
"Let the hate you feel for them flow through you. Follow it up your heart, up your mind, down to the throat, and then splitting off into your arms, legs, hands, feet."
My eyes ache as I do what he says, ultimately guiding myself to what is, or at least my visualization of his power is, a wall.
"Climb over this wall and it is done."
What? How do I do that? I need to get past this. But how? It's too big. It's not like I can shrink it down, I should know, in the time it took me to say this I tried to shrink it down!
I try to scale the wall. I can't do it; there aren't enough handholds, and I can't take advantage of the ones there, because I would need to be a foot taller to stand a chance to reach them.
I try jumping. I can't do it; It rises past me before I even reach my apex.
I try to kick through it, destroy it. I can't, it's a wall.
I try not to cry, as my uselessness is on full display. Is this how it ends, then? Not even managing to open the door, let alone fail.
I want to give up, but there's too much at stake to fall into despair.
So I switch to the next, always available emotion for me.
Spite.
I start cursing at the wall. I take a piss on it, I punch it again, just because it can't do anything but take it if it wants to remain a wall. I kick at it. Not because I believe I can do any lasting damage to it: I'm just really angry right now and I want my rage to be given to the literal object for daring to crush my dreams.
I hear a dull cracking, but in the hate-filled world I'm currently in, it's not loud enough for me to think that it's more than my knuckles cracking, and too little of a notice to care. The cracks continue though, and keep going, with every cuss, punch, kick...piss-if you want to know how many times I did it, I'll have to refer you to Gojo, since he seems to be the only one that remembers what actually happened in the mindscape that day.
Personally, I don't remember past my first punch of the wall. Honestly. I blinked and it was in crumbling pieces around me, and Gojo was there, smiling.
"Last question."
"What?" I asked in a drawn-out, tired way. I'm tired of my mind right now, just take me home please.
"But this is the most important part of this training session."
The most important part of-wait...this piECE OF-y'know what, let's just finish this. I'm to exhausted to be mad.
"In this world, it is said by the law that all men are created equal. That is not true, from any standpoint, save for the changes that are purely cosmetic in nature to a human. By that, of course, I mean they're skin.
"In this world, the reality is that all are not created equal. The weak are shunned, the strong idolized. Should this progress to it's natural conclusion, the weak will cease to exist, leaving only hyper-competitiveness, as to establish a new weak. After all, some are less equal than others. This is a cycle that will continue until there is one left, and even after that they will subdivide to one man."
"The point, please."
"Ok, ok. I just wanted to be a bit philosophical-"
"Dude, my brain hurts, my eyes hurt, probably because of the crying and it's been a long day, my emotional well is dry as hell, and I'm a second away from seeing if I could cross infinity. So I say to you again, Gojo, the point, please."
"I'm getting to it, chill." Gojo said with a slight pout.
"Anyways, before the toddler interrupted, no relation to current audience, what is the purpose of the strong, if the elimination of the weak only works against society?"
I thought about it for a few seconds. Then I realized how simple the answer was.
"To protect the weak."
"Exactly. If you protect the weak, that original weak thrives, and society doesn't cannibalize itself. They don't have to live outside of society or anything, but the safety of the weak is the most important." Gojo said with a smile.
"That said, I only really asked you that question to stop you from feeling the excruciating pain. You should feel the remnants in a few seconds! Byeee~"
"Wait, what-"
