Chapter Eighteen: Blue and Red (The Saga)
Static all around her - Ayumi could only feel a persistent buzzing.
Hollow noises danced before her blurred eyes, the beauty quite remarkable, though the bloodshot girl would rather have let her poor oculars roll back into her jammed head. Raw power shook the area around her, shook within everyone around her, shook the color of everything around her. Raw power shook the world with vigor, in her eyes; in her body, weakness suffocated the abused organs into stillness. The intern's form wasn't glued to the floor - it was cemented there. Drool crawled out of the confines Ayumi's tight lips held it in, but alas, even such hot tempered fluids were unable to sever the hold the lavishly tiled floor had on her.
She was undeniably stuck, and as such, the snake bitten teen's physical resignation prompted the surrender of her mental determination as well. A final ray of hope struck her limp mind, a blinding optimism there for a second, pulsation of the nerve cells, and gone for the next, as the emptiness of her pocket ushered in the absolute emptiness of her thoughts. Red was the only thing filling her mind, as Ayumi could almost see the decimated skin on her shoulder. The color became lucid, visions of the cells at the lips of the blue-borne burns shriveled, deprived of both psychoactives and the first three layers of skin meant to protect them. Through a bloodshot lens, the intern imagined the exposed layer shivering ironically, the coldness of the outer world overpowering the heat of the direct burn sustained. They shivered for their fallen comrades, the ones killed off by the blue, who had succumbed to the red robes death blanketed them in. Blood - oh Ayumi could feel it trickling out of her, the substance which once had chugged onward through intertwined vessels now chugged out of her body, slow and steady, matching the pace her dwindling consciousness set.
Red, ruby, cardinal, carmine, maroon, scarlet -
"Hey." Crimson. Said color assaulted Ayumi's retinas in the form of spikes, proud and tall, brighter than mountains of clay. In a blink, a boy laid face to face with her on the ground- a familiar boy to be exact. The aching teen's mind had let her heart be tangible in its clouded haze, one of the few vulnerabilities Ayumi harbored materializing before her. Dilated eyes met crimson ones, ones that smiled along with his shark toothed mouth, blinding those unprepared for such optimism. Laying next to green was red; laying next to Ayumi was Kirishima.
Mouth still leaking, she drowsily slurred, "Hi, Kiri."
"How come you're on the floor?"
"I-I don't...I don't know."
With a warm laugh, the red head told the brunette laying next to him, "We should probably get up. Everyone's waiting for you."
Confusion contorted Ayumi's once relaxed features. "...Huh?"
"Y'know, Team Sodapop, Aizawa," a pause, then, "...me."
"But you're right here!"
Kirishima pushed himself up, a red pillar shining amongst the carnage of the surrounding battle. There was a luster to him that wasn't shared by others, the shine making the boy all the more captivating. Looking determinedly at the fights in front of the two, he remarked, "I won't be for long. You need to fight, not only for everyone else, but for yourself too. There's morphine in your pocket next to the stabilizers." It seemed as though it pained the image, a slight frown plastered over the usual shark toothed smile, as Kirishima guided the dazed girl through the motions she'd once shown him on the battle field.
Ayumi reached into her pouch (whilst every bone in her body attempted to hold the breaking girl safely on the ground) and pulled out a small bottle of morphine. Shakily, the girl pulled out a syringe from another pouch, filled it with enough morphine to knock someone out, and plunged it into the green canvas her skin presented, a dot of red the only mark remaining after. Hand to the wrist, the intern spent every last ounce of concentration she had amplifying the narcotic, the pain pulsating throughout her body vanishing almost immediately. As the narcotic's numbers grew, the unknown pressure pinning the heavy eyed girl to the ground was alleviated, allowing Ayumi to pick up more than just her hand.
And then she was free. The sickly teen rose, rose from her slumber, rose to stand tall for another day. The world melted into shades of gray, everything blurring then separating then blurring again. Although a muted tone, the power of the gray lens covering Ayumi's bloodshot eyes washed the image of Kirishima away before the intern could give a thanks, wisps of the crimson which had saved her lingering, then evading the scene. I get why he calls himself Crimson Riot now. Remaining was the carnage, which looked much less threatening in grayscale, Ayumi's fleeting gaze picking up on only minor battles occurring. Miss Joke was forcing cronies to laugh themselves into oblivion, Nighteye used skillful dodges, then struck at the exact moment he knew his opponent would slip up, Fat Gum easily absorbed and knocked out several goons at once - and then there was Aizawa, whipping people around with bandages, and incapacitating them with a simple stare. Meanwhile, all of their sidekicks and interns tore the scene up as well, their amounts of power nothing to underestimate.
Watching them felt like an old film, the type you'd see a hundred times and still could be amazed by something new each time, the gray appearing different on separate occasions. This had been the plan for weeks; the group had performed simulations and mock trials, but nothing beat seeing it in person - at least to the teen with dilated eyes. And thus, Ayumi bolted onto the scene, pain numbed and mind dumbed, but nonetheless she bolted. The bloodshot girl couldn't feel her legs, yet she knew she was bolting.
She began throwing punches, needles, and glares, adopting a dangerous rhythm that pulled mesmerized people in and forced them out just as easily. Whilst robotically crumbling the Asamane forces, the intoxicated intern felt a shadow creeping in on her left side, tensed, spun with a fist flying, but only to be stopped by bandaging wrapping a round her bruised wrist. Aizawa smirked, as he continued to pick off goons one by one, claiming, "We've almost got them cleared. When we do, rush to the front and we'll let the police take care of the rest.
"Okay." Her movements weren't slow, but nevertheless, the morphine induced a certain drag about them, alerting Aizawa of the dazed girl's condition. The man in black went to say something, however, Ayumi cut him off before he could utter a sound: "This is how I function. Let me fight." Although her expression was ultimately blank, her snake bites and bloodshot eyes had a certain viciousness to them in that condition, one that even made Aizawa want to depend on her.
Now, it was the unsure teacher's turn to put faith in his student, as he responded, "Alright," and resumed battling side by side with the intern he'd quite literally picked up off the streets. The pair played off each other well, Aizawa debilitating the criminals (either by bandage or quirk erasing), followed by Ayumi knocking them out (either by syringe or amplification). Piles of villains accumulated, the sounds of groans and moans overpowering battle cries of the heroes and their companies.
Their teamwork was remarkable considering the amount of secrets harbored between them. Both glowed red, caging in and locking away the overwhelming blue which thrashed within their hearts, selling up so that red was the only image they put up to each other, to others.
Needless to say, they came out victorious.
—
"You're in pain, aren't you?"
"Stop asking stupid questions. You're supposed to be keeping me alert."
The dynamic duo sat cross legged on the floor of an empty UA training room, the two both sporting incredibly heavy eyes and insatiable bags carving away at the skin beneath them. They were holding another strenuous training session, this time working on Ayumi's quirk control under the influence. Aizawa, without remorse, shot novocaine into his student's veins, the bruised girl forcing herself to stay collected as she broke more vessels to amplify the benzodiazepines in the drug. This was routine for the brunette at this point, as the self inflicted bruising covered more surface area of her skin than actual sage skin showed at that point; her mind went for a swim more often than it stayed grounded. However, this time, Ayumi was fending off the hoards of the depressants rushing up her carotid artery, trying to gain access to her body's control center, her expecting yet underprepared brain.
Aizawa rolled his eyes at the fidgeting girl in front of him, scoffing at her blunt reaction. "I'm talking about mentally. It must hurt knowing you can't control yourself half the time you use your quirk."
Wide eyes somehow widened more, bloodshot sclera seeming to stretch across more broadly than one of the seven seas. The eyes which usually held an ocean of sadness finally encapsulated the idea, guard down and a real frown presented as the perpetually troubled girl thought back to her days on the couch. Holding back a quiver, Ayumi softly muttered, "It's always going to hurt, quirk or no quirk. I've done things that can't be corrected because of my own lack of self control or twisted sense of morals, and I have to live with the pain."
"You shouldn't feel like you have to carry this all on your own, Ayumi. You have people behind you to help you out."
A change in tone took over her voice, the brunette boldly declaring, "I can't liberate myself, now or ever. Living with the guilt is what I'll do to repent, so I'm not going to let anyone help me anytime-"
Aizawa cut the monotonous girl off. "Why not? Ayumi, you can't possibly repent unless you've had time to cope, and I don't think you've allowed yourself to come to terms with your actions and circumstances."
"And what makes you think you know what's best? I know you're a teacher and all, but this is a personal issue. I'd like to keep it personal." Standoffish, Ayumi neglected to speak further, her control over her vessels starting to shake to the rhythm her heart was. She closed her wide eyes, the opportunity to get through to her ambiguous trauma closed to Aizawa as the sickly girl effectively shut him out.
Silence.
Slowly, the man in black put a hand on his student's shoulder, and, although he knew she was numbed, he knew she felt it when her eyes opened on cue. He sighed, pulling back and admitting, stoic look masking any emotion his features, "I understand pain. I don't understand the pain of others, but I understand pain itself. I understand pain because I've felt it myself. You don't need to tell me about your pain, and I don't need to tell you about mine. I won't force you and you won't force me, but someday if you ever feel like talking, I'm here. I'm your teacher and I will always be here to listen. You should never feel like you have no where to turn to."
Bloodshot eyes bulged once again, but immediately relaxed after, Ayumi slumping backwards and hitting the floor with a small thud. Startled and flushed with concern, Aizawa moved to his student's side, confused but not particularly surprised when he was met with glazed over eyes and drool leaking from her mouth. This was a common result of the two's training, as the novocaine had slipped into the CNS; Ayumi failed her training once again.
What did catch the man off guard, however, were the aimless tears pouring out of Ayumi's eyes, almost naturally in a sense. Silently she cried, most likely unaware, but nevertheless, dark eyes remained open on their own for the first time.
—
Green skin was dusted with kisses of blue bruising, a burn oozing red on the shoulder area completing Ayumi's beaten appearance. Exhaustion and all the like was held off by remnants of the morphine still flowing alongside her blood, numbness clinging to her organs and leeching off of her brain. A natural comedown always ended with a bout of loopy shenanigans and drawls, the naturally stoic teen's mouth full of muddy words, truth and unintentional lies escaping. It was unclear if Ayumi's vision was clarifying or clouding as a response to the colors picking away at the gray she once swam in, reds and blues the first to arrive back in her retinas.
"AYUMI! If you are going to stay in this house, I swear to the heavens up above us that I will force you to brush your damn teeth if I have to!"
"But I can't feeeeeeeeeel anythinggggggggggggg..." Rolling her heavily lidded eyes - a tedious task in her senseless condition - Ayumi laid sprawled out on the spare bed in Recovery Girl's house. In order to prevent be tracked while working with Team Sodapop, the weary girl was shipped off to stay with Recovery Girl at her humble two bedroom home on the outskirts of Hosu. Walls were smothered in a baby pink paint and decorated with various photos, old and new, some picturing Recovery Girl and others featuring people she'd never seen before. Although she gave many her kiss of life, Ayumi was slowly understanding that no one really knew the true Recovery Girl beneath her quirk and services. The brunette was slightly pensive for a moment, the drug's effects finally diminishing under the strength of her heavy thoughts. I don't even know her name.
Said woman barged into the room, a sly look on her face. She wore a cute pink dress and her hair up in its signature bun, complete with bunny slippers to top the look off. In her hand, she dangled the phone hooked up to the wall, the cord twisted around her hand tightly and microphone to her ear. Ayumi thought she was going to say something to her, when Recovery Girl spoke, "Of course I'll hand the phone to her! I know you kids and your urgency! I'll give you two plenty of...privacy." The elderly woman scurried over to the now sober student, forcing the phone into her tense hand. She whispered, giggly undertones overflowing into her words, "It's the Todoroki boy! I think he wants to take you out!" As Ayumi unsurely readied the phone at her ear, the medical hero commented on the way out, "He's quite handsome, isn't he?"
Though she glared back, a small but ever present smile graced snake bitten lips, as she called out, "Yeah, whatever." Then, turning her attention to the phone, she asked, "Hello?"
"Ayumi, it's Shoto."
"What's up with the first name?"
"Oh, I just thought you liked that. I felt weird calling you by your first name but having you call me my surname."
Snorting dryly, the sickly girl questioned, "So is there any point to this call, or-"
"Yeah, sorry I was distracted." From the other side of the line, heavy breathing and screams were heard. Ayumi raised her brows, about to comment before Todoroki continued, "Midoriya sent a location to the class group chat near Hosu. I don't know what it's about, but he could be in trouble."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"You're in Hosu too, aren't you?"
"And?" Why should I care? The thoughts of her tired mind betrayed her throbbing heart, however, an unknown weight pressing down on her vocal chords. Ayumi could feel her blood pumping, circulating to her vocal chords, so why couldn't she say what she wanted? Yet, it was only natural the girl with the snake bites could only spit venom.
"Look, Midoriya has helped people like us out whether we'd like to admit it or not. Now is the time to return the favor."
Ayumi still was clueless as to what the boy was trying to imply, but spoke over her concerns anyway. "You act like he's your savior. Newsflash, Todoroki, it's people like him who get themselves into situations like this. He can save himself."
"He could, but we could try to do it ourselves as well. How far is that getting us? We need people to help us through pain and our mistakes." Left in a clueless stupor, the cold girl was at a loss for words, allowing silence and the sound of the boy's breathing fill the space between them. After a bit, the breathing stopped and was replaced by a sigh, Todoroki continuing: "Look. He's in the alleyway behind that small flower shop in the center of Hosu."
The line went dead. The bruised girl set the phone down, conflict raging within her, Ayumi's brain and heart once again at another disagreement. Common ground was never found, but that was understandable considering how differently the two operated. The brunette found herself wanting to go, traces of the red passion in Todoroki's voice intriguing her enough to make her want to help. However, just when her heart was about to lift her off of the bed, her mind submerged her body in blue ice, convincing the girl she didn't owe Midoriya anything. Going to help him would make him think he's closer to me than he is...
But why is that a bad thing? What's stopping me?
The usual twenty questions bombarded her mind with concerns and inquiries, yet Ayumi found herself rising off the bed, delirious with pain, but nevertheless rising, and packing a small bag of supplies. Recovery Girl would make invasive assumptions concerning her whereabouts, but the bloodshot girl's mind and heart agreed (somehow) that it would be best not to inform her of the situation. The woman whose name Ayumi didn't know deserved to have an evening to herself, an evening where she could be her given name and put to rest the title 'Recovery Girl'.
Breaking blue ice, she turned to the red in Todoroki's voice, the red that reminded her of blush and passion, the type that picked her up off the Asamane floor. Red that reminded her of -
Kirishima. She bet he'd be proud of her now.
