New cover picture :D made by the talented Desiderata-girl! Thanks again!
Chapter 16 - Duty
The world was a strange invention. People kept skittering about, again and again, round and round, like restless ants on a gigantic glass orb. Like the orbs fortune tellers use to predict your fate. Only the great Creators could see the fates of their little ants, and the tiny insects could only move forward with their lives. Round and round.
Philae felt perfectly fine and well, her mind a peaceful haze of golds and blues. People of the world were buzzing around her in all sorts of colours. White and black, pink and hazel, azure and white and pink and lime green and…
Oh. More needles. She hated needles, but she had given up on dodging them. Something at the back of her mind reminded her that it was useless to try. Those did not hurt, though, which was always a consolation. Things had stopped hurting a while ago.
She wondered if she had to recognise those people. Some reasoning at the edge of her conscience whispered those were known faces, possibly from a close past, but everytime she tried to grasp memories they flew away like frightened birds. It did not bother her not to know, but the blurs of people felt strangely anguished at her acknowledging them, so she tried for their sakes.
It all must have been a dream. A bad one, which had turned okay after a while. How could she explain those colours and sensations otherwise? Philae just had to wait for the unruly tides of her sleep to take her away and back to her room. She could be patient, as she was perfectly at ease and well. She could not care either way.
Voices stayed suspended in the air, muffled, like soap bubbles drifting and reaching her in a burst of syllables. They were calling her name, it seemed, but she could not make herself reply. What would she say, anyway?
Maybe she should reply. However, she needed their names to do so. Names were important. They cleared the way to reach the being, and, presently, she did not have the necessary keys to get in touch with those people. She knew she had them stored somewhere, but they still evaded her. She could do little about it, anyway.
She felt herself smile at them, hoping to get reassuring. There was nothing wrong. Maybe she eventually said something, though she did not bother to listen to herself. She focused on the blurred lines of the faces in front of her and met their worry. It permeated the air in a damp, heavy cloud that left a bitter taste on her tongue.
A flurry of lines indicated movement behind the people, and someone from the outside of the world came in. An explosion of gold and white and pearls of azure filled her line of vision. A booming, rumbling voice slashed through the thick bitterness and collided with her. Another wave of hot, spicy feelings hit her square in the chest. For the first time in a while, there came sense.
"Phi-e. A- right? Phi-e ca- -r me?"
The man was a reassuring presence. He just had this aura about him, radiating with warmth and care. A tad bit of worry. Plenty of love. Soon, the aura broke through her invisible walls like an inflating ball of fluff; it was not threatening, but inviting, and Philae let it engulf her. Something told her that he was important to her and would never do any harm. She did not have his name, but she knew him. He was here for her.
His voice tried to reach to her again. Her name finally found its way through the empty space and into her ears. Things seemed to click into place. It was a matter of seconds before she got some keys to communicate efficiently again. This rumbling baritone drew her in like an irresistible magnetic force. Giving in to it suddenly felt more important than staying comfortable in the world.
She tilted her head to hear it better. She wanted to hear more.
"Can you hear me?," it repeated slowly.
The words felt much closer now. They echoed for a moment, their meaning eluding and unimportant. The tone of the man's voice, though, vibrated through her hazy mind. His warmth shielded her from everything else than them. She was safe. Slowly, her brains caught up with the words, deciphering what they held in essence.
The person asked if she could hear him. Did they want to know if she was deaf, or did they need reassurance of her connecting with the world somewhat? Perhaps both. Her eyes refused to give her a better view of the world that still looked blurry, but her ears seemed to work just fine now. Maybe her mouth would, too, if she tried to give a reply.
The person sounded anguished. Did she look that awful? Maybe she would try to make an effort.
She just had to remember how to respond. Communicating was tough.
Toshinori told himself to be patient. Slowly, he repeated his question, articulating each syllable, intoning each word differently, speaking as loudly and gently as possible.
He tried his best to appear strong and professional, but internally, he screamed in agony. Trigger had not turned his student into a deformed hip of scaly flesh and pointy bones, but damage was visible everywhere he looked.
Philae's skin was faintly glistening from the inside, geometrical shapes forming an intricate pattern on her whole body, as if the scales were only just brimming on the surface, but would not sprout out. Her neck, especially, was adorned with brown and black lines forming a net stemming from her lower jaw and disappearing under the hem of her tattered shirt. Her face was crossed with blueish hues, and from what Toshinori could see her arms and legs sported crimson chain-like patterns. Those could have been okay if they did not ooze blood in some places. A paramedic was regularly dabbing her open cuts with an antiseptic, and an IV supplied her with everything she was losing elsewhere.
The stench of rotten flesh assaulted his nostrils, while another paramedic struggled with the wounds that Shigaraki had inflicted upon Philae. The former Number One hero had had his share of awful experiences, but it did not alter the effect those had on him. His eyes watered from the acrid smell, and he swiftly chased the tears away with a finger. He had to remain strong and professional. Composed.
Her eyes, though. Normally, Trigger turned its victims' tongues black, but here, it had affected her eyes instead. Her warm, chocolate irises had completely disappeared while her blown out pupils had taken all the space. His student was far away from reality, drowned in that black pit. Only the abyss was looking back at him now.
But the worst was probably how she smiled despite all that. A soft, but frozen smile paralysed her face into that of a wax doll. It was lifeless. Meaningless. It frightened him to his very core. Although there was a sense of déjà-vu to this, he surprised himself thinking that he preferred the time when she had been terrorised. At least, she had shown real emotions, which he had been able to work with. Now, he had very little to pick up on.
He had found a stool and sat himself down next to the stretcher she was on. Philae was, indeed, unresponsive to most of the stimuli around her. Talking amounted to very few reactions, though she seemed to perk up now and then, particularly when her name was called out. Moreover, he could not explain it fully, but she looked like she recognised his voice, so he kept on trying to reach out to her. He had this feeling he would succeed eventually. His skin prickled with something akin to a sense of anticipation, pushing him onwards.
After a few minutes of unilateral talking, she gave off some sort of response and let herself slump against his chest. Toshinori collected her easily in his arms without question or surprise. The air buzzed with unknown energy, as if he had entered a parallel dimension. Her dimension. No word could clearly express what the retired hero was experiencing; he just set aside all sense of logic and went with the flow.
The young woman weighed close to nothing and felt so fragile, like the time when she had had her relapse. Her skin felt icy, despite its faint glow. Tiny spasms raked her frozen limbs every now and then, as if pain, or sudden haunting ideas, shot through them. Toshinori prayed all the gods existing on this plane that she was not dreaming of her past torturers. Fuck emotions, if her showing them meant she relived bad memories, he highly favoured her expressionless state instead.
He hoped his own body heat could seep through her, chase away her numbness, and make her interact with him at some point.
Please let me through, he pleaded mentally. Please, please let me help.
"Philae," he repeated very, very slowly.
She blinked somewhat, her focus shifting subtly to his mouth. Her blown pupils seemed to shine differently. Maybe it was only his anxious mind playing tricks on him, though hope bloomed in his constricted chest.
"Philae, can you hear me?"
He detached each word and made sure to pronounce them very distinctly, his eyes never leaving hers, waiting for the slightest movement that could indicate she was listening. He noticed them twitch, and she craned her neck to face him fully. Her lips defroze and she showed him a grin full of pointy teeth. The skin on her cheeks gleamed a little brighter.
He could not have imagined this. She heard him, of that he was now certain. Careful not to make her clam up again, he inhaled and continued.
"If you can hear me, please, blink."
This was a needed confirmation for everyone in the room. Tsukauchi must have retreated in the farthest corner of the paramedic tent, observing. Uraraka and Asui were here too, fidgeting but trying their best to remain calm. Toshinori could sense them, even if he did not see them. Ryuukyuu also had to be there, somewhere. All these people relied on him, and he wanted to show them he progressed.
Philae watched. Then, she closed her eyes a fraction and let out a strange gurgle, akin to a cat's purr. The sound hit him square into the chest, and warmth spread into his whole torso. The former hero started at the uncanny phenomenon. That he could not have imagined.
This felt like the time when she sang. She was responding. His spirits soared with excitement and renewed vigor.
He licked his lips to give himself countenance and calm his spinning mind. He had to choose his words like a jeweller chose his gems.
"Good. Can we… can I talk to you more?"
Another blink. Relief washed over him. He had succeeded in making contact. She felt warmer and livelier, and he wanted to keep it going that way.
"Alright. Listen, this is important." He paused. "Philae, I am here to take you back home," he explained, insisting on the last word.
Home. Where you belong. Among your friends, with your dog. With me, and Aizawa, and everyone else to protect you. To safety.
"However," he went on, "I cannot do so if you are not here with me."
I'm here, so don't be afraid. We're here. Please come back so we can help.
She tilted her head and furrowed her brows. She did not understand.
Fuck. Think, Toshinori.
"Philae," he called her back to attention. "You are not totally conscious. You are far, far away into your world. I-I know you feel pain…"
Her brow scrunched up and a new gurgle came out of her throat, sounding like a whine. A ripple in the air indicated a shift in her moods. He did not know how he understood this, but he did. He gulped, then sighed.
"I know. I am sorry. I know how it feels. But I can make it better, I promise."
He paused to let her take the words in, then added, "I just need you to be courageous, and face the pain long enough for me to do so."
It pained him to say it, but it had to be done. Philae had to reconnect to their reality, and thus with her wounded body, so that they could treat her better and heal her. If not physically, at least mentally. She flinched at his words, whimpering like a scared animal, and curled up against him, her face buried between her knees. Now, she was sitting on his lap, her legs dangling oddly between him and the makeshift bed. It must have been uncomfortable but she did not seem to mind. He held her securely, like he would have with a small infant.
He absently noted blood stains on his shirt. Nevermind. Her supple flesh spread a soothing balm of human warmth against his own monstrous body. His scar did not even hurt.
"It is difficult, I know," he comforted her. "I am here to help, I promise."
He seemed to make one too many promises today. He could not help it, though. He had to help. He yearned to save her. Aizawa's words nagged at him, coupled with his memories of her hurting and telling him her biggest, darkest secrets. She trusted him. All Might was bound to her. He could not, and he would not, fail her.
Energy hummed and unfurled around him. What it was doing to him, he had no clue, but it was not unpleasant. It felt like a light, caressing touch of invisible wings. He was no fool and knew this could turn into blazing gushes of wind, though he sensed no intent to harm anyone at present. If this was what Philae felt when she used her quirk, he found it was no more villainous than fire burning away in the pyre. Only the use of it determined how it was. So far, he had only seen a positive use of the dragons' powers. This, more than anything, assured him he was doing the right thing.
The pair stayed like that for a long moment. Toshinori was so engrossed in the strange atmosphere that he totally forgot the passing of time and the presence of others around them. He waited for Philae to digest the information and make a move on her own. He did not feel the usual stiffness in his muscles or the straining of his tired limbs. He was on duty and nothing would interfere, not even himself. It was second nature. Furthermore, it seemed he had access to what his student called magic, in a way that appeased his fatigue. He could remain seated with his young charge forever if need be.
A stir against him, followed by a distressed moan, snapped him back to Philae. When she finally looked back at him, he felt her conscious in the black orbs. A tiny, squeaking voice found its way to her lips, and the sound of it both relieved him and wrenched his heart.
"All Might… 'M so sorry…"
She trembled like a leaf. The painkillers might not be enough and Toshinori debated on whether he should wrap himself more around her to keep her sense of safety intact, or release her from his embrace so as not to cause her unnecessary suffering.
Without warning, the world around them burst the bubble they seemed to have been in. Paramedics swarmed around them, ready to take over. Tsukasa appeared next to him, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. Only then did Toshinori realise he too shook with exhaustion. However, the slightest sign of stress from his student had him refuse to let go.
"I am here," he murmured softly. "I will help."
He meant every word, and he knew she knew it. She nodded faintly and sagged. Her eyes closed and she fell into a deep slumber. At last, she was back. Safe.
The former hero let out his breath. He failed to register what happened after that, now that he fulfilled his duty. She was here with them. The rest would have to wait. In a way, saving her felt like saving him. If he could help, he was still good at helping. It did not matter how many times he had to do it. If she needed him, he would be there every single time.
She still saw him as a hero. Or better, she saw both the human and the hero in him, and she had never shown anything close to rejection, pity, or embarrassment to his decline. She was not his heir, she had no connection to him other than he being her teacher, but she needed him just as strongly as she would a close relative. Maybe one day he could see what she saw in him, if he tried long enough. In the meantime, he would make sure he would be the first person she would open her eyes to.