I do not own BNHA or its characters.
Enjoy Chapter Two of "Canvas"
Cowritten and proofread by aoimikans on Tumblr.
Afterimage
The rain poured through the night and into morning. The sky was dark, still overcast with a blanket of grey clouds. Naomasa Tsukauchi stirred his coffee absently, watching droplets race down the kitchen window.
Toshinori had been right. Naomasa had needed a good night's sleep after the day before and in preparation of the eventual shitshow to come. He sighed and took a long sip from his mug. At least the coffee was decent.
His cell phone rang, the simple ringtone for work calls, and he pulled it from his pocket.
"This is Detective Tsukauchi."
"Ah, good morning. This is Officer Hamada with homicide," said the man on the other line, "There's been an incident with signs pointing toward a violent crime committed with a quirk. Since this is part of your department's jurisdiction, I was told to call you in."
Naomasa nodded and set his mug down in the sink, grabbing a pen and paper from the counter.
"Where?"
"Detective Tsukauchi," a middle-aged police officer greeted Naomasa as he ducked under the crime scene tape, "I'm Officer Hamada. We spoke over the phone. Thank you for coming. This way."
"What happened?" Naomasa asked, glancing around the car park. Uniform black cars lined the lot, each shined like new, as was to be expected of the high-end hero driving service. A few he passed had the U.A. insignia etched into plaques on the hoods.
That's right, Naomasa thought, This company partners with U.A.
"One of the drivers came in this morning and found the body of a coworker," Officer Hamada gestured to a young woman wrapped in a blanket and sitting at the back of a nearby ambulance. "She discovered it in the locker room. She's really shook up."
Naomasa nodded, "And it's believed the homicide was committed with a quirk?"
"I think it's pretty clear that's the case," Officer Hamada grimaced as he lead Naomasa into the adjacent office building. "Just down here."
At the end of the hall, a small group of officers speaking with a forensic scientist stood by an open door. Camera flashes lit up the hall from within the room. The forensic scientist paused when she spotted their approach.
"You're with the Quirk Crimes Division?" she asked as Naomasa stopped in front of her.
"I am. Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi," he said, holding out his hand. She shook it with a nod.
"Chihiro Sato," she replied, tapping the ID card clipped to her shirt. She turned away briefly, stooping to pick up a small box from the floor. She pulled out two shoe covers and handed them to Naomasa, "Put these on. I can't have you tracking in anything from outside."
Naomasa slipped the covers on and followed her into the locker room. Officer Hamada followed soon after donning his own covers.
"Have you ever worked with homicide, Detective?" Sato asked as she rounded a wall of lockers.
"I have," Naomasa replied.
"Good. I'd rather you didn't hurl on my crime scene." Sato said curtly.
When he saw the body, Naomasa understood her concern. Two spiraled bone spears pierced through the man's shoulder and chest, pinning him to the back wall.
"Watch your step," Sato said, walking around labeled blood splatter.
Naomasa nodded grimly then jumped slightly when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He quickly pulled it out, glancing at the unfamiliar number before tucking it back in his pant pocket.
"We think he was on his way out," Sato said, gesturing to the man's driver uniform. "Driver's License identifies him as Hibiki Genji."
"Hibiki?" Naomasa sighed, "Oh no."
"You know him?" Officer Hamada asked.
"Not personally. My friend teaches at U.A. and Hibiki is - was his usual driver," Naomasa shook his head. "He was a good man."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Sato said solemnly.
"Sato, the camera is set up and ready to record," said a younger forensic field tech. Beside him was a video camera on a tripod.
"Thanks Akio." Sato moved to stand beside the body.
Officer Hamada leaned toward Naomasa, "Sato is the Homicide Division's best forensic scientist. On top of that, her Afterimage Quirk is invaluable."
"Afterimage?" Naomasa asked.
"Watch," Officer Hamada nodded to Sato.
"Make a note that I am placing my bare hand on the deceased's right shoulder," Sato said. She then did so and took a long, deep breath. When she opened her eyes, they looked clouded.
In the center of the room, a ghostly image of Hibiki Genji appeared.
The image was talking on the phone, though no sound came from him. He laughed and pocketed the phone before moving to a nearby locker. He appeared to open it and pulled a set of keys from inside. Then Hibiki jumped, startled. He looked over his shoulder, brow furrowing in confusion. He called out, growing more cautious and uncertain as seconds passed.
Hibiki's eyes went wide. He flew back and slammed into the wall where his physical body remained and clutched his shoulder, ghostly hand gripping at the bone spear. His face twisted in pain, silently shouting until a hand shaped impression pressed against his face. Hibiki's eyes went wide, panic flaring and tears spilling from them. He shook his head and cringed. The impression of the hand disappeared and Hibiki slumped slightly, breathing hard. Then he glared, his eyes following some unseen person as they moved to leave the locker room. He spoke and spat on the ground, a pained defiant grin splitting his face. His body jolted and his expression fell. His ghostly hand moved to loosely grip the bone spear in his chest. The light left his eyes and his head fell. The afterimage finally overlapped the physical body and faded away.
Sato removed her hand from the deceased and cleaned it with a cloth given to her by another field tech.
"Get all that?" She asked.
The man gave her a thumbs up before taking down the video camera and tripod.
"Also, Yuuta, see if you can get any fingerprints from his face. We could get lucky." She turned to Naomasa, "Your thoughts?"
"You were right to call." Naomasa gestured to the bone spears, "You may get DNA from those assuming they were generated by the attacker's body. Unfortunately, I can't say this kind of quirk is familiar. Whoever did this may not have a record, but I'll gladly work with you to put this killer behind bars."
"Sure thing," Sato said with a curt nod. "Same to you."
"You have work still to do. I'll get out of your way for now," Naomasa said, thanking Sato and her fellow forensic technicians before following Officer Hamada from the crime scene.
As he was walking from the building, his phone buzzed.
Naomasa paused, pulling the phone from his pocket. A voicemail notification popped up. It was from the unfamiliar number. He selected it and raised his phone to his ear.
"Hi, this is Izuku Midoriya. I'm -uh- All Might's student. We've met a few times. He gave me your number as an emergency contact - not that this is an emergency! It's just, All Might didn't show up for our morning training, which isn't like him. He mentioned he was going to see you last night. Did he stay over maybe? Or tell you where he was going? Usually he gets a ride back-"
Naomasa almost dropped his phone when a truly dreadful thought clicked into place.
Toshinori got a ride…
Naomasa practically flew back into the building and down the hall. He came to a stop at the locker room door, breathless and startling the younger officers present.
"Sato!" Naomasa shouted before reining in his voice. He had to be overthinking things. Hoped beyond hope he was overthinking things.
"Detective?" Sato appeared from behind the lockers, "Did you think of something?"
"The time of death," Naomasa said, his voice still too loud, "Do you know his time of death?"
Sato gave him a curious look, "Based on the deceased's rigour mortis, we estimate time of death was around 7pm last night."
Dread dropped like a stone in Naomasa's gut.
Toshinori had called for a ride back to U.A. Hibiki was his driver. Toshinori would never call anyone else. There had been headlights outside the window and the slam of a car door. It was already 9pm when he'd left.
Naomasa raised his phone and dialed Toshinori. He paced a ways down the hall, running a hand through his hair as the phone continued to ring.
"Pick up Toshinori…" he muttered through grit teeth.
"This is Toshinori Yagi-"
"Toshinori, thank -"
"I can't come to the phone. Please leave a message."
"Damn!" Naomasa almost threw the phone against the wall as nausea flared against the dread. After a slow breath, he said, "Toshinori, I need you to call me back as soon as you get this. It's important."
He slammed the end call button and shoved his phone back into his pocket.
Sato came up from behind him, raking him with an intelligent, curious gaze.
"Are you on to something?" She asked.
Naomasa covered his mouth and furrowed his brow. "I sincerely hope not."
If the smell hadn't given it away that he was imprisoned in a hospital, the food did. Prepackaged sandwiches, jello, and broth, a mix of items that were either for patients or their visitors. Food he had sworn he would never eat again after his many surgeries and stays at other hospitals. So much for that.
He tore the plastic wrap off a turkey and cheese sandwich with his teeth and bit into it.
Could use mayo, he thought dully. He huffed.
"Could I get some condiments next time?" he called toward the closed door. Not that he expected anyone to answer, or hear him for that matter. From what he saw of the dark hallway outside the door, he suspected he was in a basement level. Likely some closed down, ancient wing that was never updated to accommodate the vast variety of people's quirks. Fortunately for Toshinori, that narrowed down his list of possible locations greatly.
He grinned in thought, munching on the dry sandwich.
There were seven hospitals he knew of that did not fully update, were old enough to make updating more trouble than just adding on, and large enough to afford having abandoned the old wings in favor of the new wings. Two of those hospitals were close enough to drive to by car from Detective Tsukauchi's in less time than it took for the rain in Toshinori's hair to dry. That was assuming All for One did not use his Transmission Quirk, which was unlikely since he could not send himself through transmission as well.
He frowned as he crumpled up the sandwich wrapper with his one free hand and tossed it to the wastebin across the room. The ball of plastic bounced off the rim and away from the bin.
"Shit," Toshinori grumbled, hackles rising at his irritation. He narrowed his eyes at the offending ball of plastic, just out of reach and nowhere near the wastebin. "That's going to bug me."
He absently rolled his shoulders in an attempt to get the hair along his spine to lie flat, not that it ever laid flat he had quickly figured out. It was as unruly as the wild mane of hair on his head.
Toshinori leaned back against the wall, his bare back twitching at the cold surface briefly, and he pulled up a knee to rest his elbow against.
Two possible hospitals, he mused. Either Rishi General Hospital or Jedha Central. As for escape routes -
Something buzzed on the counter by the door. Once, twice, up to eight times before it stopped. Moments later there was a short buzz and it silenced.
Toshinori furrowed his brow. That buzzing had been on and off since they brought him his first meal in what he assumed was morning. Part of him wondered if the quiet male nurse had left his cell phone on the counter. When he stood to see onto the counter earlier in the day, he was annoyed to find a tissue box was in front of the buzzing phone.
Maybe they're trying a new torture method? Toshinori thought with a huff. At least it broke the boredom and silence.
Footsteps clacked outside the door. Toshinori tensed and rose to his feet. The nurses all wore soft bottomed shoes and walked almost silently. The only person who wore hard-heeled dress shoes was -
The door opened, slow and deliberate.
"Don't stand on my account," All for One said, smug as Toshinori strained against the short chains. His head canted slightly, "You're quiet. Have you taken a vow of silence?"
A small, forced smile pulled at the end of Toshinori's mouth. He wouldn't give the villain the satisfaction.
Then the phone buzzed again.
All for One turned and reached to the counter.
"What is this?" he asked, an odd lilt in his voice. "Ah, you have a call." All for One plucked a red phone from the counter.
Toshinori froze, eyes going wide. It was his. It was his own damn phone.
All for One turned the screen toward Toshinori and hummed. "Tell me, who is calling?"
Toshinori's heart raced in his chest and his forced smile fell.
Izuku! The boy's photo, the one from the first day of training, lit up the screen.
"Ah, so it is your student. Your successor." All for One tapped the screen.
"... All Might?" Izuku's voice rang hollow through the room.
Toshinori's shoulders shook under the strain he put on the chains.
"All Might, are you there?" There was an uncertain tremor in Izuku's voice. Toshinori's resolve shattered.
"Midoriya, my boy!" Toshinori blurted.
The phone crumpled in All for One's fist.
"You broke your silence." All for One stated, letting the crumpled pieces of the phone fall to the tiled floor. "Have I found the weakness in your pride? That boy, Izuku Midoriya?"
"Don't you say his name!" Toshinori roared and hacked, blood dripping from his chin. His eyes burned with a fury.
All for One strode toward Toshinori and chuckled darkly, "I wonder how that pride of yours would fare with his blood on your hands. Noumu."
The edge of All for One's shape blurred and Toshinori braced. He couldn't move impossibly fast anymore, but his eyes still did. All for One flew forward, his clammy hand clapping over Toshinori's mouth.
Toshinori's knees buckled as his shoulders slammed into the wall. His skull rattled and he grit his teeth. Something warm seeped through them. He recognized the metallic taste.
A guttural shout raged against the hand pressed to his mouth, his shackles biting into his skin as he struggled.
Be All Might! Damn you! But his arms shook with weakness. He roared and dug in deep, using every ounce of strength - something snapped in his inner elbow and pain flared through his arm.
Then All for One backed away, pulling a white handkerchief from his suit pocket and wiping his palm. The cloth came away stained red.
Toshinori spat at his feet, breathing raggedly. His arm hung limp at his side, already itching and twitching as the accelerating healing began its work. He spat again for good measure and glared up at All for One.
The villain tucked the handkerchief back in his breast pocket.
"Nothing left to say?" he asked.
Toshinori's gaze burned blue and strong. He wiped the blood from his lips the moment his arm was whole again.
"I wonder how long that stamina will last," All for One pondered, voice flat and distant.
Toshinori had determinedly returned to his plans of escape. How much weight could the chains carry before the screws in the wall gave way? How long were the screws? What material lay behind the tiled wall? He had tugged on the chain again, experimentally putting his body weight under it. It didn't budge.
Toshinori huffed and swallowed roughly. Sweat coated his brow. His insides burned.
The female nurse, Tetsumi, returned soon after followed by the young male nurse. Nurse Tetsumi brought more chains. Without a word, she pinned his arms to his sides while adding the chains to the wall and his shackles, extending his range of movement. When she released him, he rubbed the bases of his wrists.
"Don't tear out your IV. You'll need it," she said, sounding bored as ever. She pointed to low wall near the corner of the room. "There's the toilet. Isamu," the young male nurse flinched at the sound of his name, "Clean this up." The female nurse gestured to the blood splatter on the floor.
"Yes, ma'am," Isamu's voice was subdued. He pulled cleaning supplies from the cupboard below the counter and began to scrub at the blood stains. He shot nervous glances at Toshinori before his gaze returned to the floor.
"I'd hate to have her as a boss," Toshinori quipped suddenly. Grinning conspiratorially at the young nurse when he looked at him, his eyes round in shock. "If you want a break from that, we could trade places." Toshinori continued, holding up his shackled wrist. His arm shook slightly and he let it fall to his abdomen. The twisting, burning sensation was getting worse.
"Ignore him," Nurse Tetsumi ordered as she replaced the near-empty IV bag. "He likes to talk."
Isamu looked between the female nurse and Toshinori, a conflicted look on his face.
"You… You know that's All Might, right?" he asked quietly.
The nurse twisted around, her face pinched in anger. Toshinori tried not to grunt in pain when the shackles tightened around his wrists, his bones groaning under the pressure.
"That's a noumu," the woman stated, her voice low. Then she let out a breath and her bored expression returned. "Just do your job."
Isamu bowed his head, thoroughly cowed. "Yes, ma'am."
Something buzzed at the nurse's side. She glanced at the pager.
"I'm needed in pediatrics. Finish up here," Nurse Tetsumi ordered before walking briskly from the room.
"That woman really should not work with kids," Toshinori choked out, grimacing against the growing nausea in his gut. Now that the witch was gone, his facade crumbled. He let his head fall back against the tiled wall, savoring the cold pressed to his overheated back and shivering.
"Here," Isamu's voice shook and he backed away quickly when Toshinori opened his eyes again. He'd brought the wastebin closer. He'd even thrown the sandwich wrapper away. "If you need to vomit but can't get to the toilet," the young nurse explained, not meeting Toshinori's gaze.
Toshinori chuckled, hissing when pain shot through his chest.
"You're a good kid," he said, smiling when the young man shot him a distraught look.
Isamu shook his head and stood, nervously running his fingers over the small spikes on the back of his neck.
"I'm really not," the young man almost whispered. He quickly put away the cleaning supplies and strode to the door.
"I'm sorry that you got mixed up with this," Toshinori called softly from his spot.
Isamu paused in the doorway and almost looked back.
Me too, his bent posture said. Then he left, locking the door behind him.
Toshinori shook, his eyes closed tight against the light and the nausea and pain twisting his insides. He wheezed against his fist. The air rattled in his throat and he coughed. Dots of red coated his shaking fingers.
He was on his side, facing the wall and pressing his feverish, throbbing forehead against the cool tiles. He couldn't remember when he had laid down. His gut clenched with nausea and he forced his torso up, retching into the wastebin. Nothing but bile came up. Exhausted and trembling weakly, he pushed the bin away and collapsed back onto the floor, relishing the cold of the tile.
The pressure in his skull increased, as though it was in a vice. Something cracked at the back of his jawbone and he saw white.
When Toshinori woke again, the burning pain in his insides had reduced to what felt like bad heartburn. He groaned and rubbed his sore jaw.
So that's what taking one of my punches feels like, he thought darkly.
Toshinori rolled onto his back, cringing at the sensation of his soaked ridge hair sticking to his skin. He slowly pulled himself up with the help of the chains and leaned against the wall. His throat ached. He swallowed roughly and coughed. It was like someone had scrubbed his vocal chords with sandpaper.
A chill ran over his bare skin.
Toshinori looked down. His shirt was in tatters, holes eaten away by what looked like chemical burns. It smelt of bile and blood.
"Raise your arms, Noumu."
Toshinori tensed and turned, his still feverish, throbbing head delaying his response time.
Nurse Tetsumi stood in front of him, a bored look on her face and scissors in hand. Nurse Isamu was near the door, gaze lowered. He carried the warped remains of the wastebin, holes melted through the plastic.
"Noumu," the nurse snapped her fingers, earning herself a glare from Toshinori. "Raise your arms."
"I'm not a noumu." Toshinori growled. At least, he had tried. The noise that left him did not sound human.
Nurse Tetsumi's eyes widened. And she smiled.
"Say that again."
Toshinori's hackles rose all down his spine as he froze. He swallowed. His throat was still terribly sore… maybe he hadn't… Toshinori's gaze slid over to meet the young man's. Isamu's face paled and he shrunk toward the door, his trembling hand covering his mouth.
The fear in the young man's eyes was like a blow to the chest, knocking the wind from him. Toshinori didn't realize he had raised his hand to reach for him until it fell into his lap.
"Sensei said you had taken a vow of silence," the nurse said smugly, "I suppose this new quirk will help." Her mocking grin widened, "Where did that fire in your eyes go?"
Toshinori was silent.
Suddenly, the shackles yanked his arms up and to the side.
Hey! Toshinori shouted, the word coming out mangled as a rasping, gurgling snarl. It caught painfully in his throat and he coughed.
"Isamu," Nurse Tetsumi turned to the nurse cowering by the door, "Come here and help me. I can't hold him and cut the shirt away."
Isamu stared at the middle-aged nurse in horror but one glare from her and he shuffled over. The female nurse shoved the scissors into his hands and pushed him forward. The young man shook but did not get closer.
"He can't move, Isamu. Stop being ridiculous," Nurse Tetsumi said impatiently.
Isamu flinched under the woman's harsh words and knelt.
Toshinori watched as the young man took his tattered sleeve in hand and began cutting it away. Isamu's hands shook and he tried to rush. The sharp blades of the scissors cut into Toshinori's skin.
Isamu pulled the scissors away and looked physically ill.
"I'm sorry!" he blurted, finally meeting Toshinori's soft blue gaze.
Toshinori gave him a small, patient smile.
Isamu paused, staring in disbelief at the calm, pitying expression. He bit his lip and steeled himself. He resumed cutting away the ruined shirt, mumbling almost inaudibly under his breath.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, All Might," he whispered.
The left sleeve fell away, exposing Toshinori's twisted scar and skeletal frame.
Isamu nearly dropped the scissors. Instead, he covered his mouth and pointedly looked away from the scar. He pulled the shirt away and stood. Without a word, he turned and left.
Nurse Tetsumi huffed as she watched the young man leave.
"Coward," she said.
Far braver than you, Toshinori thought as the chains continued to hold his arms in place.
The nurse's gaze returned, her eyes raking over Toshinori's exposed torso. "Now you are starting to look like a proper noumu."
He only glared.
After the witch had left him alone, Toshinori had tried and failed to speak. His words all came out wrong, some sounding distinctly … He tried not to think back to that first fight with the Villain Alliance. There was only something wrong with his throat, he had reasoned. He would adapt and think a way around it. He had to.
At some point, Toshinori must have fallen asleep and laid down. He woke with a start when he heard the lock click again. He sat up, sore and disoriented in the never changing bright light of the room. No one was there with him. Confused, Toshinori looked around.
On the floor, near where his head had been was a clean, folded hospital gown.
Oh, Toshinori sighed and let a small smile tug at his thin lips. That young man…
He shook his head as he lifted the hospital gown from the floor, grateful for a moment that not everything All for One touched became twisted.
Thank you for reading! Send me a review or PM if you have any questions or comments.
