OML, have I waited that long to update?
Sorry guys ^^" I've been busy with a novel that is being published, and my corrector was passive-aggressive in her attempt at having me finish on time - which is difficult for me due to life issues and my being a dumb perfectionist in my own language -.
This chapter might not be the best, but I'm trying to find a pace in Toshi and Phi's romance - mixing two clueless dunces and a slow burn is no easy fate -. Regarding this, I've left a question for you at the end of the chapter.
Credits: Ceredwen - Blwyddyn I Heno (Welsh song)
SPOILER ALERT! This chapter is set after chapters 159-160 (Overhaul arc). Some plot elements come directly from those.
Chapter 18 - Things like to repeat themselves... only it is worse now
Philae found herself in deep slumber. Again.
Only this time, she had few memories of what had happened before. She could grasp a few images here and there, from Shigaraki to a blindingly sharp sting of a needle, and then nothingness. Only the vague certainty that she had not killed anyone remained like a bitter aftertaste in her mouth, given that she got trapped into her own mind because of whatever stuff she had been injected with. Again.
Things repeated themselves, it seemed.
She felt helpless. The steadfast thrum of the draconic link, in sync with her heart, where the only things she could make out of her immediate world. Not for long, though.
Suddenly, the link shook, and voices of ethereal quality echoed in the fog surrounding her, carried by an invisible breeze. Trees came out of the nonexistent floor, lush and green and inviting. Water gurgled happily in the distance. The choir amplified and came from everywhere at once. Among them, Philae recognised one she had heard all her youngest years.
Mama?
Nôs ar ôl nôs wrth fy ochr y bu
Night after night you came to my side
Heb rhoi chysur na chariad tuag ataf
Showing no love or affection
Ond nawr mae yn glir nid y ti oedd y dyn
Now it is clear, the man wasn't you
Er ei olwg yn debyg i dy olwg di
In spite of him looking the way you do
Wedi 'r trydydd tro fe ddôs ar fy 'nôl
After the third time, you came to me
Dy feddwl yn llawn o chwilf rydedd
Your mind filled with curiosity
Mae fy neges yn hawdd rwy'n dy garu yn gryf
My message is simple, I'm in love with you
Ond mae'n nhad wedi'm addo i ddyn arall
But my father has promised me to another
Philae did not know the song, though she understood it. Those notes tingling the edges of her memories pulled at her heart, as smidgens of the Old Blood had her reminisce a life she had not lived. They came to her and told her a story, and she listened:
There had been a woman once, they said, a long time before the sad days of wars, who sang with the merpeople as one of their own. She was beautiful, loved by her peers and her friends alike. She had been promised to a life of happiness and comfort, of undying fervor and passion from the one that had courted her for so long.
One day, however, she severed the bond, so suddenly that the sea rippled in shock and grief. She had fallen in love with one of the unknowing humans and followed him, turning her back to them. There was no saving her from alienation.
Wedi aros mor hîr cyn it ddod i fy ngwrdd
After waiting so long before meeting with me
Yng nghwmni fy nhad a 'i gyfeillion
In the company of my father and companions
Fe fuest yn ffôl yn rhoi cyfle i 'r gw
You were beguiled and gave me away
I 'm gymryd i 'w briodi fel yr ofynodd
To the man who asked for my hand
The odd couple married away from the magical world. The merpeople wept when no one could see them, for they did not want to show they cared; they were, after all, a proud people, and she had betrayed them. When they thought no one heard, though, they sang their mournful ballads. No one could understand their loss and hurt. The tides became angry, and the depths turned treacherous.
Blwyddyn i heno
A year from this night
Blwyddyn yw y cyfnod cyfareddol
A year is the magical time
Blwyddyn i heno
A year from this night
Rhaid rhoi amser i 'r hud i weithio
Rhaid rhoi amser i 'r hud i weithio
The magic needs its own time
The magic needs its own time
A year passed, though, and all of a sudden, a wonder happened. The woman had the Old Blood sing to a new life. The merpeople feigned disinterest, but they found solace in the news. they swam far and wide to assist to the miracle. Their mourned friend had not forgotten who she was, and she had shared her gift. A bo of the fiery kind had come into the world like a shooting star, setting the sky ablaze. The wind carried the gleeful news to all that flew, that sang life and nature. The birds of all feathers rejoiced as they recognised one of their own.
Blwyddyn i heno
A year from this night
Blwyddyn yw y cyfnod cyfareddol
A year is the magical time
Blwyddyn i heno
A year from this night
Rhaid rhoi amser i 'r hud i weithio
Rhaid rhoi amser i 'r hud i weithio
The magic needs its own time
The magic needs its own time
After some more years, a new stars shone bright. The lords of skies and hearth rumbled in approval. A girl was welcomed by the drakes and scaly beasts as one of their own. The Old Blood thrummed with vigor at the power the children held. They became heralds of a new generation.
The merpeople sang and sang their joy and hope. The oceans sparkled with delight, the coasts had never been more welcoming to the mariners at sea.
Rhaid rhoi amser i 'r hud i weithio
Rhaid rhoi amser i 'r hud i weithio
The magic needs its own time
The magic needs its own time
Philae lost herself in the soft notes and tune. The words lost themselves at the edges of her conscience, in the farthest corner of her memories where the calm reigned and appeased nightmares. She let herself be carried away into a peaceful sleep.
Time passed in a blur. She came about slowly, agonisingly so, until the moment she could define her surroundings.
The ceiling was two different shades of gray. A lighter tone for the majority of the surface, with small darker blotches where stains were. Walls fared no better; even the framed landscape poster facing her bed, a composition made of cold hues overlapping one another and forming a dreary attempt at a sunset on the beach, looked dull and depressing.
Smells assaulted and burnt her nostrils. Poorly covered by the stench of bleach, the unmistakable fragrance of death wafted from under the doors and through the fibers of the sheets she laid in. No amount of washing powder or scrubbing soap could erase the distinct stink of agony and despair, of delirious sweat and overwhelming grief. It was ever present, clinging to the walls like ghosts of extinct hope. Philae shuddered when their silent wails blew over her face.
Sounds made her cringe every now and then. Elephants pounded along the corridors, pushing squeaky trolleys that sounded like someone was scratching their nails against a blackboard, or murmuring conversations that echoed in her room as if they had been screamed into her ears. Shrill beeps and thunderous clicks pierced her skull. It hurt.
She knew she was hyper-sensitive, for she had never felt things so acutely before. It was all too much at once. Her heart pounded like a hammer against a bone anvil, threatening to crack her ribs. Her eyes watered from the sheer pain she was experiencing.
Someone pounded into the room in a rush. A shapeless blob of blazing red heat jumped in front of her and rummaged next to her form with the ruckus only a loony bin could manage. A snap crackled into the air, then bliss. And silence.
Philae relaxed into the pillow in a blink, her head enveloped in thick cotton. Her thoughts became fuzzy and disappeared behind a curtain of carefree relief. The blob took the shape of a human being, with a pair of warm caramel eyes.
"Sleep, now," they said in a breeze.
Philae obeyed.
Some floors away in the same building, someone else closed their eyes, forever.
Mirio's tears were heart-wrenching to see. The third-year, normally so full of smiles and eagerness, was crumpled over the form of his mentor. The loss of Nighteye rippled through the assistance like a dark veil of desperation.
Toshinori restrained himself from breaking down. They had managed to rescue the little girl, but at what cost?
All Might's former sidekick was dead, and the Number One Hero had not even been able to help him. What worth did he have, now, if he could not even assist his closest allies and friends?
Who would be next?
Once again, it was too much. Though he cried, the blonde could not allow himself to show more grief. He could not… he had no right.
Somehow, he felt it was partly his fault. He should have been out there. He should have done something.
He had failed, again.
In the room where the fallen hero was surrounded by those who loved and respected him most, Toshinori felt out of place. Unworthy. Disgusting.
He needed out. Away from the others. Away from their judgement.
Of course, his more reasonable side knew that no one would have blamed him, that he could not help it, and that he should not feel ashamed of what happened, for he would not have been able to change anything.
That was the problem, though. He should have. If not for his infirmity, he would have.
It was not Izuku's burden, and yet the boy had shouldered it and suffered the consequences. He could have died, too, had Aizawa not stopped the girl's Quirk at the last minute. He was too young for that, it was too soon.
The retired hero had promised Mrs Midoriya he would look after his heir and he had failed both of them. Was failing the only thing he was good at, nowadays?
Unable to look at the others any longer, Toshinori left the room in a hurry. No one kept him back, probably thinking he needed some time alone. He was, in fact, but not for the only reason they believed.
He was disgusted with himself. He wanted to hide in a hole and die there. He escaped the nurses' sorry glances and advised his options.
Staying in the corridor was no good. There were too many people coming and going, too many possible encounters. He wanted to see none of his acquaintances, and even less of his closer relations.
Hiding in the lavatories was a loud no, as was locking himself in his office at UA. His colleagues would not bother him, but students would end up knowing he was there, and get worried. Maybe they would check on him, which he did not wish.
Going home sounded tempting, but he decided against it. As paradoxical as it appeared, he dreaded it. Only unrest awaited him there. The emptiness, the silence, though he longed for them, would probably swallow him whole and never let him back. Facing his failures, he would only stare into a bottomless abyss of self-hatred. He doubted he would survive that.
Besides, a masochistic part of himself refused to let him leave like a coward, he had to take care of stuff somehow. Show that he was present, even if his mind was adrift. Maybe he could help, alleviate that heavy burden of shame he carried. Anything to allow him a look at himself in the mirror without seeing a soulless shell.
Since when had he been so weak in front of adversity? It seemed he had done nothing worth aside from Philae's integration…
Realization suddenly hit him.
The was somewhere he could be useful. Or at least, not unwelcome.
Somewhere he could possibly let go…
It was stupid, but it was all he had. With a few brisk strides, Toshinori went to a nurse.
Philae woke back up in darkness. Grays became blues, with touches of artificial orange and yellow. Colours had come back to her.
Sounds were back to normal, too, though the smells still lingered strongly around her. Whatever had made her a mess was dissipating.
A rustle alerted her of someone else's presence, followed by muffled sobs. Philae strained her ears and neck towards the sad noises, making out a tuft of golden hair in the corner of her vision. With great effort, she managed to turn her head a little more. An unkempt, ruffled blonde mane pooled at her side, tickling her exposed skin, masking the face buried into her mattress and muffling the sniffles. Around the hair, bony arms quivered as they were raked with sobs.
Her heart wrenched painfully into her chest. Why did this person cry? What did she do?
One of their hands clenched into a fist, gripping the sheets like a lifeline. They raised their heads slowly, puffy eyes revealing depths of unfathomable grief. Ocean blue wavered in a storm of emotions, reason cast adrift into the turmoil. They were disoriented, lost into their own mind.
Philae felt the urge to reach out for them - him -. It was All Might, her brain screamed at her, and he needed help.
Her limbs weighed tons and refused to move. Frustration and anxiety welled up in her throat.
Her link quivered, rekindling with a foreign and yet familiar sensation, which warmed up her whole being and vibrated in her core.
A rumble escaped her throat. Low and strangled, it came out as a gurgled whine for a few seconds, before it evened out and resonated like a purr.
All Might shook so violently that he became a blur for an instant. His wide eyes riveted on her. Realization hit him like a wall of bricks and had him flail around in a clumsy attempt at hiding his tears.
"Shit," he hissed, rubbing his nose and cheeks frantically, mortified at being caught in an episode of weakness.
The former hero retrieved his handkerchief and blew his nose, gaining a few precious seconds to recollect himself before he had to face his young student again.
Why the hell did I think coming here was a good idea? he wondered.
The answer was obvious, although he refused to admit it. It hurt too much to think about it.
His gaze found Philae's worried one briefly, and guilt weighed his already shattered and sunken heart further down. Of course the girl did not understand. How could she?
Toshinori grimly noted that she, at least, did not sport that void look any longer. Her pupils were sporting a reptilian-like look, although they seemed to get more human by the second. The effects of Trigger were wearing down, and soon few traces of its devastating effects would be seen anymore. That was good, and a small consolation.
He desperately needed some kind of solace right now.
The eyes of his former sidekick flashed in his mind, glazed over, lifeless, and yet so hopeful it hurt, and Toshinori almost bawled his own out again. He would not, however. He had already done that twice.
Whoever had once said that crying helped, had lied. Once he was alone in the room, seated next to the sleeping form of Philae, he had lost it and broken down. After rounds of soaking his handkerchief with snot and tears, however, he did not feel even remotely better at seeing Nighteye die in front of him and doing nothing. He felt his inner walls and certainties crumble, one idea after another, as his world slowly sank into chaos.
If only he had not been stupid and gotten wounded.
If only he had remained the Symbol of Peace.
If only he could have been better… No one would have been in danger. Not his mentor, not Midoriya, not even Nighteye.
He felt like crying again, eyes burning as raw emotions clawed their way out of his armor.
The retired hero had done his best to keep up with the image of anchoring strength he appeared to be, for Izuku. Young Midoriya, plagued with remorse at not being able to save his second mentor and Mirio's most important figure, did not need a pitiful teacher crying like a baby on top of that. He needed a reliable adult. He needed his family. Toshinori, though extremely sad and shedding uncontrollable tears, had played the part of the responsible one.
In front of his young heir, he felt like he should show a bit of an example, even if he deceived no one. He wanted to prove himself he could do this.
He could not do much anymore now. And as great as his shame was to look like a chipmunk with a runny nose in front of Philae, it was still better than standing before his colleagues like nothing had happened, like he was not guilty of this. She did not know, and he had felt it was alright.
As strange as it sounded to him, he believed he could look for what he needed most with her. Companionship, support, human warmth. Things he could seldom ask from his coworkers, as they were already busy handling their own share of shit, or Tsukauchi, the police officer being buried under so much work and sleepless nights that he deserved some respite.
Philae was here, though. Oblivious to the tragedy, caring and strong. Worried and confused, but instinctively reaching out to him. Ever-present, watching without contempt in her odd eyes, and purring.
Toshinori took a few seconds to wrap his mind around what was happening. It sounded unsure, gravelly, more lion than cat, but inexplicably soft so as not to be frightening. It was deep, not too loud, and sent undulating waves resonating somewhere below his ribcage. His heart leaped in his chest.
It happened like that in the tent, only now it was louder, steadier, voluntary. He raked his brain to make sense of it, then remembered something. Aizawa, who loved felines to a fault and sometimes talked about them - one of the few conversational subjects the dark-haired male was keen on talking about -, had once said that purring was a means to reassure others or themselves when in distress. Was it a particularity dragons possessed as well?
Was Philae trying to calm him down?
The room and corridors were silent, save for the odd rumbles that the young woman produced. It permeated Toshinori's skin, found its way through his cracked façade, enveloped his battered body and spirit into a pleasant cocoon. The bleak street lights outside looked a little livelier, brighter. His heart stuttered and evened out, his thoughts halted and got blessedly calm.
He was glad to be here. Upset, too, and a little embarrassed to take advantage of the situation, but he had found what he had been looking for. His sadness was lifted just a little; it relieved him immensely. It was a wonder, really, how well he felt with her around. How he could be himself, the man, as tired and miserable as he was.
Maybe it was because she did not come from here, and therefore would not judge him based on what he had once been. He repeated himself, but it was the only reason he could objectively think of. That would have been the main difference between her and Midoriya, for the latter practically idolized him and All Might. Even if Toshinori was All Might, he was not really; not anymore. He feared that his heir refused to see that hard truth, the fact that his hero disappeared. Only ashes remained of the passionate torch of justice he had held so high for all those years. Philae did not care whatsoever, and even though she tried to persuade him into seeing something that definitely did not exist, she saw beyond the poster smiles and marketing image. She sought him out.
Maybe he was getting delusional here. His mind was clouded by crippling low self-confidence and loathe towards himself, but he still hawked at any sign, any token of affection she might show him. Toshinori was not as oblivious as not to see she appreciated him, though he could not fathom why, or to what extent. She was just open to her feelings and he did not question them further. Maybe he should. The League of Villains did not target her for nothing, and it became clear it was All Might they were after, through her. They had definitely seen, or thought they saw, something going on between the retired hero and his student, which proved dangerous for her. Guilt reared back its ugly head. He hated the idea she got into trouble because of his past self.
I'm getting senile…
Toshi had to admit it: he was getting attached, far too greatly. He loved Philae's smiles so much that he might come to look out for them and try to get them more often. He was fascinated by her, her power, her inner strength. He was impressed by her hardships, her pulling through so much for someone so young.
He was the one behind, now. The useless piece of trash lying around.
Philae struggled to sit, her features strained by the effort. She winced, and Toshinori scrambled to get her back down on the mattress.
"No, no, don't," he urged her, "you need to rest."
She shot him a concerned look, ignoring her condition as she tried to resist him. Her trembling hands came up to grasp weakly at his arms, but her fingers only brushed against his skin before they fell back at her sides. Her chocolate irises flashed with frustration, then became pleading as she turned her attention back to him.
His heart beat faster. She, too, was troubling herself for him. Why did he get so much care from people, as he did not deserve it?
The former hero made a face.
"You silly girl…" he chastised kindly.
She huffed in reply, gaze questioning. His face fell a little, before he shook himself and applied the tiniest pressure on her shoulders.
"You don't need to strain yourself, I'll explain."
She looked unsure. Eventually, though, she sagged on the bed and gurgled a groan. Satisfied, Toshinori let her go and sat back down, rubbing his hands against each other.
Silence stretched between them. Philae resumed her purring. It helped anchoring him and he found the will to speak.
"I'll sound whiny," he mumbled.
Then, louder, he said with a shaky voice, "I'm sorry, I… Shit's happened, lately."
He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. All of a sudden, he noticed the girl's eyes darkened with regret, and he flailed to reassure her.
"N-no, nothing about you," he swore, "not like that, just…"
He faltered.
"A mission went awry," he announced, throat squeezing around his words, "Nighteye… a great hero didn't make it."
The purring intensified. He focused on the soothing sound waves, looking straight ahead.
"It's my fault," he blurted, tears threatening to spill once again. "I wasn't… I should have helped. He died and Young Midoriya was also in danger and… and I…"
And I wasn't there. I was busy hiding my sorry ass in my office, deluding myself I was useful by grading papers and doing stuff. Avoiding you, everyone I knew; refusing to admit I'm an old dumb piece of waste.
His reasons sounded hollow in his own inner mind.
"I feared seeing you too," he blurted out next. "I… I was afraid you might never be the same again. I'm sorry you were in danger because of me. I…"
His thoughts collided with one another and left him puzzled and hurt.
To think I judged her because of her past…
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have come to see you sooner."
The rumbling stuttered and turned into a soft whine. Toshinori looked at the tired, beautiful face of Philae. She moved a little, and for a second he expected her to try and sit up again. She did not, however, and merely lifted up a shaking hand to him, turning it so that her palm was offered to him. He hesitated, then covered it with his own, which looked more like a gigantic paw with spidery fingers compared to hers. Her skin felt warm.
The girl smiled then, a small stretch of the lips. It appeared like the brightest grin to him. There were still tiny scales around her eyes, glowing under the artificial lights that filtered into the room. He could get addicted to that view.
"I…" he licked his chapped lips, wavering. "May I… stay? I don't feel like going to my apartment. I'll be more useful here, watching over you."
It was a lie. Cops made rounds around here to check and take testimonies, so the place was already safe, and moreover, Toshinori doubted he could have fought a villain in his state. They both knew it was not the reason.
No one questioned it, though.
Philae blinked, then seemed to glow from the inside, a loud purr answering for her, and the blonde's chest warmed up. Be it from her magic or her inner charm, he had no clue, though he would not resent the feeling. He gave off a smile of his own, even if it must have looked feeble and shaky.
After a few minutes, the young woman's purring subsided, and her eyes closed. Her breathing evened out. She fell asleep. Her face, soft and open, looked even more adorable.
Toshinori leaned down and stroked her hair with his free hand. His fingers combed through her brown thick breadths, touch light and tender so as not to wake her. She leaned into his palm in her slumber, letting out a happy gurgle. He could not help his smile, then.
Suddenly, out of impulse, he leaned down and pressed a small kiss on her temple. His lips brushed against the scales there, smooth and soft and warm. He lingered just a second too long, before his reason caught him and made him lean back against the plastic chair.
His face scrunched up in guilt. He was getting attached, and for a moment it scared him shitless.
Just for a moment, though. As Philae had appeased his mind by her presence alone, tiredness overcame his thoughts and silenced them. That was a problem for future him, it seemed.
Toshinori tried to find a comfortable position and let himself drift off.
Phew, I feel it's been a struggle to get Toshi to do something, ugh!
By the way, I said I don't want to write underage smut, and technically I won't. However, the question of underage is blurred as regards Philae because 1) she was born a looooong time ago, so in years she's older than All Might, but 2) in spirit, she's more or less between a teen and a adult, depending on the matters she broaches.
My question is: as regards underage, do you think it is okay I wait for Philae to "mature"?
To me, consent comes with personal development, not only written age. I won't come to actual smut - meaning, people getting naked - until she's not at least 'ready' in her mind, which is not so far away. In fact, Philae is more mature than all her classmates - except Todoroki and Momo - 'cause of her childhood. But still.
Anyway, thanks for your support!