"Recite the steps of your regimen."
"No eating ideal, greasy foods for at least one week."
"And?"
"And?"
"No soda."
"Good. What else?"
"No strenuous activities for a week. I should not operate heavy machinery, or-"
"What about quirk usage?"
"No outward quirk use, or solidifying muscle mass."
Recovery Girl nodded with a kind smile and a pat to my knee. I wondered if asking for a sucker would be out of the question; I had recited the entire list, after all. A rustling nearby caught my attention.
Shota slid his eyes over, face a blank void. A glimmer of cellophane suddenly gleamed from his pocket before making a quick getaway.
This man.
"Now, I imagine you'll be in charge of these," The medic handed a white bag suspiciously rattling like pills to said man. "Just keep hiding them in her food like we've been doing-"
"Excuse me?" I tried to rise from the idiotic wheelchair she'd put me in. A swift cane to the shins knocked me back down.
"You are a nightmare when it comes to pills. This method has worked us wonders the past few days."
Injustice. Abhorrent ethics.
Worse- they were both in on it.
"Now, I know you're all healed up, but you should still take it easy the next few days- with the amplified healing comes a great deal of fatigue." She slid back into docile grandma mode, taking one of each of our hands. "Chiyo, don't be a pain; when Aizawa offers you assistance, take it."
"Why does she always make it sound like I'm the difficult one," I mumbled.
"Aizawa, remember Chiyo has dealt with a lot lately. Don't go nagging at her over every little thing; she needs space. And quiet."
Good. At least she was crapping on both of us.
She turned back to me, slightly hesitant. "Does he know about-?"
"Yeah," Though quick, my answer didn't warble- improvement. Her smile slipped on the corners but the tightening of her grip compensated the difference.
"Everything affected by the infection was taken out, and there's been no sign of further growth. With only a partial removal, the cervix remains intact, so sexual intercourse should be as pleasurable as before. If you have any pain, bleeding, or discomfort, make an appointment immediately."
"Mm." Did she have to keep holding our hands when she explained this bit?
"Read the pamphlet if you have any further questions, or stop by for a chat. Oh-" Her smile turned sly- a frightening, unnatural look for someone of her advanced age. "-And if you can't abide by the one week restraint, please, none of that horrifying lovemaking you see in those adult films-"
"Please take me home," I grabbed Shota's wrist hard enough to crack steel. "Please- please go before she continues."
"Way ahead of you."
Maybe she wasn't a healing nurse; maybe she was a maniac witch in disguise, the way she cackled as Shota wheeled me out of the ward, down too many bright hallways until at last sunlight bathed my skin and fresh air rejuvenated my lungs.
An audience awaited our arrival. I blinked in surprise, as if maybe the drugs hadn't quite worn off. How else could I be seeing so many familiar, wide-eyed faces, somehow knowing exactly when I would be released?
"Oh my god- they really did cut off your legs."
A fist bounced off Mineta's purple head. "You can clearly see her legs, idiot."
Over a dozen kids suddenly rushed in my direction, producing a cacophony of relief and joy, enough to certainly trigger the disturbance-senses of the nurses lurking within the hospital behind us.
But how?
I looked up; lazy eyes looked elsewhere. Ah.
"So, Operation Submersion will be taking a short hiatus," Everyone tensed as I stood, pushing myself free at last from the mechanical legs. "I've been forbidden from "strenuous activity" for about a week-"
"A whole week," Shota corrected bluntly. He tensed in my periphery when Uraraka and Momo giggled, looking between the two of us. A connection we'll both have to think about addressing later, I realized. And probably again with Principal Nezu.
"Does strenuous activities include se-" Mineta began. This time, Bakugo put a little more spark in shutting the baubled-boy up.
"-And in a week, I expect to see all of you every day after school- no excuses." I continued, ignoring Mineta altogether, "From here on out we've got to push ourselves harder."
"This is the exact opposite of what Recovery Girl just told you," Shota sighed.
I waved off his pessimism without turning around. A little mistiness drew more sincerity than I intended out of my throat as I continued; "I owe every one of you my life. I hope that one day I can repay you. Until then, my undying love and affection will have to suffice."
Had Yaoyorozu grown overnight, or was she always so much taller than me? Her back bent when I pulled her head to my shoulder, placing my own atop hers. There was a pause, a breath of surprise, and then her arms gingerly circled around me. I caught Tsu's arm, who took Uraraka's, until there was a giant mass of heartbeats fluttering around my own, newfound creatures breaking from old cocoons.
A prickly blonde watched with clear horror from afar.
I sent a dead-eyed stare over Yaoyorozu's shoulder.
"Bakugo."
"If you think I'm going to join your little sissy-band of feelings-"
"Join, or I'll retrieve my appendix from Recovery Girl and follow you around the halls with it."
I wouldn't- couldn't- tell them what the surgery was really for; that kind of guilt had no home here.
But it didn't mean I couldn't use a little fake culpability to get my way once in a while.
"Damn it," He cursed.
The Submersion team welcomed him with open arms.
The spare key was taped behind the portrait of red poppies in the hallway, just like I remembered.
She'd left in a hurry; the television was still on, droning some home improvement show that looked so effortless on camera but so clearly involved entire work crews behind the scenes. A cup of tea sat stale on the table by her normal perch.
What had alerted her of my danger? Surely the noisy destruction of the video store a few miles away wouldn't have reached this place. A mother's intuition? An invisible string tied between us? The idea reminded me of the strange daydreams I used to have once in a blue moon, lost in thought during a particularly boring school lesson, following a face enough like mine to not be strange until I caught its reflection and jerked back to full consciousness, blinking and stupid in the classroom's mirrored windows.
"This is where you grew up?"
"After Manami, yes."
We had lived in a house before. White, with a red door. I had loved that house, its closeness to both a park and my best friend.
I was thankful Manami stopped by for a visit yesterday, surprising me with an armful of leather-bound books and a Going Home outfit. The papery, backless gown would've thrilled Mineta, but probably proved pretty drafty outside the safety of a hospital bed.
"It's nice." He acknowledged simply.
I tried to see the rooms through his eyes. Every wall, end table, and bookcase held pictures of the two of us; Mom and I eating double-decker ice cream cones with messy, grinning faces; Mom and I at the zoo, both looking timid but game near the snake house entrance; Mom posing with teenage Chiyo, the one year I made the mistake of attending a school dance. His half-lidded gaze piqued their interest on that particular frame. I hurried him along with a shove.
"No prom pictures?"
"Didn't attend prom. Moving on."
"But your outfits- that kind of absurdity practically screams your name. Seems like something you'd be into."
It kind of was. But then I would've had to speak to someone, and then dance with someone, and the idea spurred more nerves than it seemed worth. Only through growing age and liquid courage had I ever found refuge on a dance floor.
"Too timid, not enough alcohol. Plus it's weird if you show up alone as a girl." Mom's bedroom door was shut- good. My organs had just recovered; no need to hit them with that right now. "This is my room."
Had I chosen this lilac paint? The color seemed too dainty, overly feminine now. How many choices were actually mine, though?
It looked like a teenager had thrown up all over the walls; Mom had never bothered to take down any of my old doodles or posters. A string of twinkle lights canopied my headboard over my neatly-made bed, comforter worn from overuse and bearing several stuffed animals who had seen better days.
I'd never had a boy in my bedroom before- not my childhood one, anyway. My heart bounced at the fake danger of such an act; grown or not, this certainly had to be breaking some sort of unwritten rule.
I watched him do a slow turn, taking in all the sights with wonder.
"I feel like I've stepped into the Twilight Zone."
"You and me both."
His dark eyes went wide but I smiled, dispelling his worry. He returned to perusing while I cracked open the closet. "Welcome to Teenage Chiyo's brain. Please note the foreign postcards I bought online pinned above my desk and the All Might poster, so adoringly worshiped for an embarrassing amount of years."
"No Eraser Head posters, I see."
Had I hung all these dresses in the closet? Why hadn't so many new outfits struck me as odd? "Are there even such things?"
"No, but it would've been nice if you had one."
My suitcase was tucked in the back of the closet, just like it always had been in the Before. "You're barely, what- five years older than me? And, actually, I had a late birthday, so chances are we would've been in school together at some point."
What a bizarre thought.
He seemed taken aback too, pausing in his shuffling through my desk.
"What are you even doing?"
"You can tell a lot about a woman by how she organizes her pens. I see you have them mixed in with pencils. Classless."
A well-guided sandal drew a hiss from his lips.
Would I ever return to this room? My forgotten possessions, the memories held to the walls by more than nails and tape. I plopped onto the bed beside my overstuffed suitcase. Again the grown raccoon stopped his digging, turned to observe my thoughtful expression.
"I wonder if I talk to the landlord, we can make out some deal. I don't want her to lose the apartment while she's...away."
"I assume whatever outlet her income funneled from will continue. You texted the address to the social worker, right?" I nodded. "Then there shouldn't be a problem maintaining the apartment until she recovers."
"Right." All logical answers and solutions. My heart particularly caught on the word recover. Leave it to stony Shota Aizawa to display the greatest pools of sensitivity while also looking like an angsty, cinematic dream, leaning casually in my fur-lined desk chair in all his long-legged, black-clad ruggedness.
No, my brain quickly scolded. You promised- promised!- Recovery Girl!
Don't look at him, it continued as I drank in the pale curve of his neck, the dip of his collar above his v-neck.
Don't think about him, it pleaded when he noticed my gaze, a dimple reaching out to greet me.
Don't-
"Such a rulebreaker, Tsutomi. Have you always been like this?" He murmured after I crossed the room, guided a leg over his and joined him in the chair. There was clear hesitancy in the banter but didn't seem to stop his hands from finding my waist.
"A professional hero is sitting in my teenage bedroom. This is kind of a dream of mine. Exceptions have to be made."
He kissed me softly, as if too much would dissipate my being into vapor, fleeing before he could catch the particles. I pulled him closer, trying to prove my existence, the solidness of my hands on his face and chest against his, a permanent fixture who would never forget him, forget this, ever again.
"Chiyo," His breath was cool against my face, only able to put enough distance between us to speak. I didn't need submersion to feel his quickened pulse. A hand shivered across my neck, softly brushed against my hair. "We should stop, you're- I-"
"I know, I know." I glanced behind us at the enticing bed right before Recovery Girl's squirt-bottled glare flashed before my eyes. The brain who'd been nagging me suddenly took on her voice and the moment died along with my sanity. I kissed him again, quickly, before maneuvering out of his lap.
This was going to be quite the long, grueling week.
"I don't think you're ready for this."
"I don't think you're ready for this."
He could already sense my presence and we hadn't even left the parking lot yet.
"Let the record show I warned you beforehand."
"Eraserbrain's concern, duly noted."
He couldn't be aware of what was about to transpire; only I knew that familiar scratching from a mile away.
My dark-haired, overconfident companion shouldered ahead of me to unlock the door, shifting a grocery bag into his other arm to spare a hand. I rolled my suitcase to a standstill, preparing for the attack.
Unlike every other previous interaction Shota Aizawa experienced with Nasu, my sweet love didn't stand a chance.
I hadn't been gone just overnight, but nearly a week and a half from my soulful, green-eyed animal familiar.
A shadow ripped free from the opened apartment with a ear-piercing scream, barreling past Shota's open arms to leap at my chest. Catching him with my one good arm proved difficult; no matter, as he picked his way up by climbing my clothes like a rock wall with his clawless soft paws, curling around my neck like a threatened constrictor. Yowls continued to fracture the sound barrier as if he'd been locked in a filled bathtub for the past week. My poor, sweet Nasu.
I hurried into the apartment. Even if his neighbors were farther apart than mine had been, anyone within a two mile radius would be able to hear my heartsick cat moaning his lament and probably not find it nearly as endearing.
A not-so-little furball sat on the couch watching with only enough interest to flip her tail, unperturbed by Nasu's antics. I lowered myself beside her, neck still obscured by my trembling fur scarf. Endo gave a pleasant purr as I scratched behind her ears.
"Hey, did you-" I began, only to realize no one was around to hear me.
A figure still crouched outside, arms lonely and face wretched in shock.
"I did try and tell you," He blinked stupidly as I nudged one of the dejected grocery bags into the apartment with my foot- as dejected as he was by this feline betrayal. "Nasu is just an extension of myself. Cats would rather have one best friend than multiple good friends. I'm that one in a million person to him."
"He followed me from room to room. He slept in my bed-"
"On my pillow, right?" Oh. That was bold. The pale-faced stare he gave me didn't seem to register my sudden embarrassment at the accidental claim to a space in his bed. I held up a clump of my hair. "He could smell my shampoo. I always catch him on my pillow when I come home from work."
Shota raised a hand towards the obsidian scarf still half-choking the life out of me. It let out a distinct hiss.
"He's afraid I'm going to leave him again. It...might be awhile before he calms back down."
I felt guilty not helping him put away the groceries.
I felt even worse when I caught snippets of his mutterings, clearly, genuinely wounded by Nasu's brush-off.
"You better favor him," I whispered fiercely to Endo, who gave a very feline blink.
Nasu relinquished his grip only enough to let me lie down the couch, slinking into the crook of my arm like a tucked koala.
By the time Shota reentered the room we were all fast asleep, a tangled mess of fur and limbs.
I hadn't realized how minimalist my life seemed until its entire contents sat in the middle of one small bedroom, barely enough to fill two hefty-sized tubs. Even with my giant suitcase of clothes and garbage bag of shoes, unpacking wouldn't take more than half an hour.
"I have a spare futon somewhere. It might be a little musty, but we can air it out," Shota considered my arm. "Well, we can at least hang it out tomorrow. If you want to stay in here."
"Do you want me to stay in here?"
"No." He answered in plain honesty.
A twitch drew the curve of my mouth and he ran a hand through his hair. "Can I use the dresser in here?"
"Go for it."
I'd woken up to the smell of cooked food an hour and a half into my impromptu nap, stomach grumbling in delight.
If eating on the couch wasn't his vibe Shota didn't mention it, warm against my side and making snide comments about his least favorite character on a show we'd been watching on and off.
Recovery Girl was right; I could barely keep my eyes open from the start of the episode to the end, adamantly denying my snoozing whenever Shota asked.
Hopefully tomorrow, after a full night's sleep without blood work, fluorescent lights, and the cooing tones of a certain medic commenting on Aizawa's doting behavior, staying awake would prove easier.
"These were the only items left in your apartment closet," He said now.
"My pajama shirt!" I exclaimed. A dark brow furrowed, lightened by the creases near his lashes.
"Funny how you couldn't find any of your nightclothes at your mom's, huh?"
"So weird," I agreed. He rolled his eyes and I kissed his chin; the only area I could reach easily. I grabbed my cosmetics bag and headed towards the bathroom. "Should I call the police station, or how does this work?" The shower jumped to life, freezing cold and demanding time to warm up. "I really thought they'd be waiting outside the hospital as soon as I left."
Shota reached over and readjusted the dials. Didn't he understand women preferred flesh-melting temperatures? He caught the sleeve of my injured arm and gently worked the material down.
"Recovery Girl expected the same. That's why she told them your release date is tomorrow."
Clever, clever. She might hold the crown for Most Embarrassing Questions, but her tact and concern was endless. After all this, I should send her a hundred-rose bouquet.
Nasu raised the bathroom's occupancy by one too many, hopping onto the toilet seat and giving a malevolent glance at the other male. Clearly, he was not the intruder.
"I can handle it from here," I said politely as possible, trying no to seem like an ungrateful pain, as Recovery Girl might have put it. Shota nodded, albeit a little reluctant, and Nasu gave a victorious grunt as his competition slipped from the room.
She hadn't lied- there was barely even a scar. My skin looked milky; paler than normal in the mirror, and skinny. A different person seemed to be peering back through the glass, movements just a fraction off from my own. When I touched my abdomen she did too, jumping from the coolness of my fingers.
No real outward change.
So why did I still feel so different?
The water cried for me, drenched my tired limbs, transformed my hair into dark sea grass like some forgotten species, caught between two worlds.
I could feel him hovering, just on the other side of the door.
Silly man.
But his whispered words caressed my mind again, and suddenly the water felt arctic, too weak against my heated skin. The droplets wavered in the air before I could reign in my emotions.
"Are you...Do you need anything?" He called out hesitantly. The water resumed its normal shower and I scrubbed my face clean in record time.
"I'm fine!"
Fine enough, anyway. A bad paper cut or hangnail always burdened the process of hair washing but only affected a single finger; I hadn't comprehended what a complete pain in the ass the whole ordeal would be with an entire hand out of commission.
I couldn't even wrap my hair into a towel-turban. I grunted at the effort before finally giving up, letting the tangled strands dampen my shirt as I angrily brushed my teeth.
His tentative face just seemed to piss me off more. I grumped past him and Nasu followed with an indignant swish of his tail.
"You sleep with your hair wet?"
"Not by choice," Why was I being so mean? I tried to pull the grit from my teeth. "But being a cripple is harder than I expected."
A dimple quietly laughed at me. I huffed, passed the bedroom and stomped to the couch. He disappeared into the bathroom without closing the door.
"So tomorrow I'll go to the police stations and talk to Detective Tsukauchi. He knows all about Toshinori too, right?"
"According to All Might, yeah."
The angrily-discarded towel entered the room, carried over when Shota sat beside me. My vision turned dark when the cloth fell over my head. I tried to reign in my annoyance but surprisingly needed little help as he gently rubbed at my temple, easing the steam out himself.
"They're not really interested in Mom? You said they never even opened an investigation?"
"Correct."
Just the League of Villains, then. "Am I- Do they consider me a threat, since I went with Tomura Shigaraki willingly?"
His hands paused- he hadn't thought of that angle. "They're probably more interested in any intel you can provide. Your memory had been wiped- we have definitive proof of that- so I don't think your actions can be deemed investigation-worthy, exactly. You didn't participate in any sort of crime or act of violence. Aside from taking down a Nomu and obliterating your own arm, that is." He wrapped the towel around the thick band of my hair, gave a gentle, nearly teasing tug. "You're taking one too many lessons from Izuku Midoriya, I think."
"Using water over my own blood would probably a lot less damaging, huh? But I need readily-available liquid. I can't make it like Todoroki can with ice and fire,"
"Can't you pull it out of other materials?"
"Yeah, but that's just gruesome, Shota."
He made some sort of chuckling snort. I gave him a weird look because, really, what kind of person goes around sucking the life out of trees and disrupting pipe works?
A prod against my back pushed me to sit on the floor. Before I could grump about mistreatment the spindly fingers of a brush raised every hair on my body. I shivered, quieted by the sensation. Why couldn't such simple tasks feel this good when you did them yourself?
"I'm already good at location and regulation. Immobilizing is also getting easier, but depends a lot on the strength of the opponent-"
"I couldn't believe you were able to hold All Might for so long."
I winced. "Not without a few cracked ribs, I'm pretty sure. You think he'd have taken it a little easier on me."
A sharp pain bit near my ear; he'd caught a tangle. I leaned towards the floor.
"You're supposed to start with the ends and work your way up; is this why your hair is always a mess, because no one ever taught you the art of brushing?"
"Are you going to pursue the muscle solidifying technique?" He ignored my jab, though did move to the middle of my back, brushing out the thistles. I released a Nasu-level purr.
"I'm thinking about it. Considering I'd only ever done that once before, I think there's some potential for finesse. I was too riled up, not in control enough. With training, maybe I could control the impact better."
"You'll need a teacher."
"I'll need a team," I argued. "Luckily, I already have one."
I wasn't looking to be the next All Might; I just wanted to keep my kids safe. And who better to learn from than said kids themselves, with all their various abilities and experiences?
I guess you're not as barren as the doctors said, I thought suddenly. A hiccup of surprise caught in through at the notion.
"Happy thought?" Shota asked.
I blinked, turned in confusion, only to have my view obscured by the sea grass tendrils of before. They swayed in their own mystic waters without regards to Recovery Girl's commands or gravity.
"I guess I am already the kind-of mother to forty-plus teenagers,"
He parted the sea of hair to find my eyes. An oyster would be envious of my pearls, smiling when he finally found my face. I watched the slight blush whisper into the skin of his neck "At the very least the Operation Submersion team, though I have some concerns over Mineta's paternity."
"Adopted. Clearly." He deadpanned so seriously I couldn't stop my laughter. A hand caught the underside of my knees and mine found his neck just before he lifted me into his arms.
"There's nothing wrong with my legs- I can take myself to bed-"
"Taking you to bed is kind of a dream of mine. Exceptions have to be made."
His chuckle warmed my hands, which were firmly strapped to my idiot face, trying to block out the world's view of my embarrassment.
"Glad to see not all of the nerves went away. School would've been pretty bland without you blushing in the hallways every few class periods."
School. "Didn't you say some class trip is coming up?"
He plopped me on the bed in a heap. So much for tentative care, I thought before he pulled his shirt off and erased any coherency from my brain.
"Class 1-A and 1-B, working together for various endurance and quirk training," He visibly hesitated. I tried to concentrate on his face and mostly failed. "Being exclusively a hero-course event and with the increased security needed since the rise of the League, only the corresponding homeroom teachers will be attending."
"Hm," The words took longer to process as he fumbled in a drawer for a set of simple night clothes. The statement finally computed. "Wait, what? You're leaving? When?"
"Given the recent events, Principal Nezu pushed the trip back a full week, to give everyone recuperation time."
By everyone, he meant me.
Me and maybe Shota, who was stuck taking care of me.
"Stop making that stupid face," He interjected before the spiral could even start. My lips grew thin nonetheless; both for being called out but also the guilt swimming laps in my stomach.
"I don't want to complicate your life more than I already have; I could probably find an apartment by the end of the week-"
"Even with me out of town, you can stay here; that's not an issue," He dismissed. I meandered into the hallway after him, even though he was clearly headed towards the shower. "A handful of hero course students were involved in the villain raid, remember? Only a few suffered injuries, but giving them a little breather will benefit their well-being. You of all people should be promoting such an event, Miss Ethical-Heroism-through-Mental-Wellness."
"We can't all be made of granite and steel. Aizawa."
He turned, barring me from entering the bathroom. Grey eyes narrowed.
"Why do I feel you're referencing my body rather than my mentality, Tsutomi?" He snorted. "Typical reverse-sexism from UA's number one hypocrite- Chiyo, damn it."
He was the idiot mocking me, completely bare-chested.
A hot shower wouldn't wash the sting out of that bite for a while.
Maybe they were taking things at an increased speed.
The appearance of floral-scented body wash and a pink razor in his shower was jarring, certainly, and an odd feeling swirled his stomach at the sight of her toothbrush in the same cup as his.
But they weren't necessarily bad feelings.
He padded back to the bedroom, silent by nature, to find her already asleep, bare legs above the covers and arms sprawled ridiculously above her head. Two green eyes suddenly appeared in her mess of hair, bringing sense to her raised hands.
"Sho," She mumbled, only stirring enough to notice him pulling the blankets from under her, tucking them around her heavy limbs. She breathed a happy sigh and was lost again seconds later. Nasu gave an appreciative purr in her place.
Chiyo Tsutomi was more enigmatic than she realized; where he expected anger over her new, forced living arrangement there had been only gleeful laughter, kissing him so hard the heart monitor nearly picked up his own pulse by sheer decibel, taken off guard by her amorous reaction.
He didn't particularly regret harming the sleazeball down the hall of her old apartment complex, but nervousness had nearly eaten him alive when it came to relaying the event to her, who already nagged about ethics and morality like the end of society was already upon them.
The idea of inviting her to stay with him as some act of compensation struck him as asinine- his greatest fear was her believing as much, rather than knowing his quiet desire to sleep where he could hear her breathe, see the soft rise and fall of her chest as she slumbered, was what truly led him to ask her to stay with him.
Luckily, the idea never even seemed to have crossed her mind.
"I'm not eating that, it smells horrid," Chiyo muttered, face pinching in unconscious disgust. He drew the outline of her cheek and the wrinkles ceased before she rolled onto her side, following his touch. She smacked her lips before they fell open again, continuing in her open-mouthed breathing.
No, he decided.
The stirring in his ribs was not of a thorny nature at all.
Author's Note: Remote learning is the worst. All my time feels gobbled up, but I'm going to try and maintain my Friday postings schedule.
Now you'll have a new mystery to dwell on- am I a student, or the teacher?
