I do not own BNHA or its characters.
Enjoy Chapter Four of "Canvas"
Cowritten and proofread by aoimikans on Tumblr.
It's a Long Way Down
Toshinori massaged the back of his left hand, scowling at the quickly healing bruise. At some point during his struggle against All for One, his IV was yanked roughly from his skin. The tube dangled from the IV bag and coiled on the floor. A small puddle had already formed around the tip, the clear solution zigzagging along the grooves between the tiles where it mixed with the blood on the floor. The red tinge flowed like macabre ink, following the solution back to its source, and defiled the small pool.
Toshinori spat into it. He could still taste copper and his breath smelt of rust. Nausea churned in his gut and he let his hands drop to his sides.
Damn it… Pathetic.
Toshinori's jaw ached and he rubbed its side, cringing at the memory of All for One's hand pressed against the bone. He felt along the back of the jawbone. His fingers paused at a knot and a dip just below his ear. He frowned and pressed his fingertips against the spot. Slowly, he opened his mouth, feeling as his jaw hitched at one point before he gently moved his jaw back-
Oh! Toshinori blinked at the feeling of his jaw sliding smoothly out of place before popping it back and closing his mouth. That's … an odd feeling.
He sighed and plopped down on the ground, leaning back against the wall and resting his elbows on raised knees. He clasped his hands together loosely, rubbing them together absently. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, letting his exhaustion sweep through him. His face still ached where All for One had held him, and his back where it had slammed against the wall. A sorry reminder of how frail his body truly was without One for All.
The memory of his own hands wrapped around All for One's arm flashed behind his eyelids. His fingers were too thin and arms too weak. Rope-like muscles were all that remained of the hero he had been.
He ran his hands up his arms and held his shoulders, resting his chin on top of his crossed forearms. He sighed and shook his head at himself. He never regretted giving his power away, and still didn't. His clenched fist hovered in front of his face, and he furrowed his brows, Wish I could have gotten in one good punch.
His face softened, and he felt a small smile pull at his lips.
I'm still me after all. All for One can't change that, he thought with a quiet laugh. He shook his head and let his hand fall back to his shoulder, It's the little victories.
There was a light knock at the door.
Toshinori looked up, his small smile growing lopsided with humor.
The door unlocked and swung open. Nurse Isamu pushed it wider with his shoulder as he balanced a food tray and something else under his arm. The young man vibrated with nervous energy as he strode forward and immediately sat in front of Toshinori. He placed the tray down and held out the object he had under his arm.
Toshinori's brows rose. It was a small notebook.
"I had to get a smaller one but no one saw me bring it down." Isamu said as he handed it over with a simple, black pen.
Toshinori took the pen in hand and opened the notebook. Its pages were blank and crisp, brand new. He quickly jotted a note on the top of the first page and turned the book for Isamu to read.
"Thank you."
Isamu's expression faltered, "You really shouldn't be-"
Toshinori pulled the book away, writing quickly.
"Cut that out, young man. I know. You were forced into this. I can tell. Not your fault."
Isamu bowed his head and nodded, "I'm sorry."
Toshinori huffed loudly, grabbing the young man's attention. He abruptly hit the top of the nurse's head with the book.
"Cheer up," he wrote and used his forefingers to push a smile on his face.
Isamu rubbed the top of his head, eyes wide as he stared back at Toshinori.
"You really are All Might…" Isamu mumbled.
A barking laugh burst from Toshinori, making him double over. His handwriting was shaky when he wrote, "Is that so hard to believe? Young man, I may not look it, but I am most certainly All Might."
"Y… yeah." Isamu shifted on his knees, "Um, I brought some stuff from outside the hospital. Picked it up with my bre- food."
Toshinori glanced over the tray. Canned green tea, a styrofoam container with some kind of hearty soup, and another container with a simple salad topped with sliced cucumber.
Breakfast, huh? Better than aluminum, Toshinori thought with a contented sigh. He jotted down a quick note and passed the book to Isamu before pulling the food tray closer.
"Tell me about yourself." Toshinori looked at the young man expectantly as he popped the plastic lid off of the soup.
"About m-?" Isamu gawked at the note then at Toshinori.
Toshinori nodded, foregoing the plastic spoon and sipping from the small container. Relief flooded him as the taste of copper was overwhelmed by the warm flavors of the soup.
"Well, I - When did that come out?" Isamu suddenly stood, scrambling to collect the fallen IV tube and seal off the drip. He slipped slightly and looked down.
"Oh," he said in a small voice, his face pale. "I'll… I'll clean that up."
Isamu unhooked the IV bag from the pole, taking it and placing it on the counter by the door before stooping to the cabinet below and pulling out some paper towels.
"He was here then?" Isamu asked, tearing squares from the roll and laying them over the spilled IV solution and blood.
Toshinori hummed with a frown, nodding.
"O-oh," Isamu glanced over Toshinori with a careful eye, the same look Recovery Girl gave Toshinori anytime he walked into her office. "Are you … hurt?"
Toshinori shrugged and went back to eating. He heard Isamu pause and sigh, obviously unsatisfied, but the young man continued cleaning the blood away from the floor.
"I -," Toshinori turned at the sound of Isamu's quiet voice, "I wanted to be a doctor."
Isamu collected the wet paper towels and took them to the hazardous waste bin. Then he sat down in front of Toshinori again, rubbing at the short spikes on the back of his neck.
Isamu gave a pained smile and gestured to the row of spikes that ran down his spine, "I was quite the fanboy when I was younger, but my quirk is useless for any type of heroics. I owed it to my parents to live up to the strong name they gave me, so I tried to use my head," he laughed, small and a little self-deprecating, "Studying was rough. Failing was worse… So I changed tactics.
"A few years later, here I am. Not quite a doctor like I planned, but close enough. I still make a difference."
Toshinori gazed at Isamu. He blinked as Izuku's image momentarily superimposed itself on the young man, and he set down his cup of soup. He hummed thoughtfully and picked up the notebook.
"Your parents must be proud. I know I would be."
A stricken look crossed Isamu's face, and he coughed in an attempt to disguise the tears that threatened to pour from his eyes. He rubbed at his cheeks and smiled at the floor.
"You're really too kind…" Isamu said quietly, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders.
A familiar urge stirred in Toshinori's chest. He wanted nothing more than to relieve the young man's burden. He glanced at the shackles around his wrists and rubbed at his sore hands.
I'll need to take care of these first.
"I want to help you."
Toshinori's head snapped up, fixing the nurse with a curious gaze.
"I-I can't do much, and I'm no speech therapist," Isamu fidgeted self-consciously, "But I've tended to patients with throat injuries before. The sounds are still there. We just have to find them."
Toshinori's eyes lit up, beaming with pride. He bent over the notebook to write more, but his fingers and wrist moved stiffly. His brows creased.
Am I getting arthritis in my old age? He huffed and stretched his fingers, wincing as pain shot up his arm. His joints throbbed.
"Are you alright?"
Toshinori nodded and turned his attention back to the notebook. He paused.
What was I writing? He gripped the pen tighter as the edges of his vision blurred. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Not now. Not again.
Sweat dripped down his face, and he shuddered, exhaustion rushing through him. Isamu leaned closer, saying something.
What was that, young man? I can't...
A hand grabbed his shoulder and helped lower him to the floor.
The pen slipped from his grip as his hands shook and cramped painfully. The bone deep ache spread up his arms and coursed through the rest of his body. Toshinori pulled his legs closer as his feet cramped suddenly.
A hand curled inside his own and another rubbed his back as Toshinori shuddered. He squeezed the hand back, fingertips digging into the smaller hand as a spasm wracked him.
I'm still me. I'll still be me. Still …
Toshinori was on the floor when he woke. He groaned and shivered. Drenched in sweat, his hospital gown stuck uncomfortably to his skin.
Damn. He shifted slightly, glancing around the room.
Isamu was gone and another food tray sat next to the one from the morning.
Okay, Toshinori rolled slightly and pushed himself up, I'm alright.
Something scraped loudly against the floor by his feet. His toes felt … odd.
Toshinori closed his eyes, Whatever it is, it'll be fine.
He leaned against the wall as he caught his breath, exhaustion weighing heavily on his limbs. With a steadying nod, he looked down at his feet.
Oh. His brows rose slightly and he wiggled his toes, or rather, claws. They curved sharply from his feet, and the tips tapped against the tile floor loudly. Okay.
Toshinori reached down to feel the claws and froze. He swallowed roughly, curling his hand into a half-formed fist, wincing at the sharp pricks in his palm.
Shit…
Toshinori laid his hands in his lap, palms up, and slowly flexed his fingers … his claws. They moved stiffly. The skin of his fingers looked hardened, his fingertips stretched and curved to wicked points. He rubbed his fingertips together, frowning at the lack of sensation.
Toshinori shuddered and closed his eyes as he let his hands fall limply in his lap.
Fine. Claws. Okay.
Acid curled in Toshinori's gut, a reminder that he hadn't finished eating. He groaned, glancing at the food just out of reach. He nodded with a soft grunt and pushed himself from the wall, reaching out and pulling the tray from the morning - however long ago that was - closer. The soup was covered again by its lid, while the salad remained untouched.
Toshinori fumbled with the lid, his claws piercing through the soft styrofoam bowl, but managed to open it. With a swift motion, he downed the cooled soup, pointedly ignoring the way his jaw felt as it automatically unhinged.
Don't think about it, he thought as his hackles raised.
Toshinori put the styrofoam bowl down with a little more force than necessary. He reached for the chopsticks, breaking the cheap wood apart and lifted the salad. He tried to hold the utensils correctly, but his claws moved stiffly and he struggled to keep his grip. His hold tightened, and the chopsticks snapped. He tossed them on the tray.
Don't think about it.
Toshinori picked at the salad, carefully eating with his claws. They bumped his teeth and clicked against them. His chest burned.
Don't think about it.
Toshinori abandoned the half-eaten salad in favor of the tea. He easily popped the top open and drank, relishing in the clean taste. Something normal. Something familiar.
He bit down.
His heartburn eased.
Toshinori stared numbly at his empty, clawed hand.
Something snapped. The room felt far too small, the air too thick.
FUCK!
Toshinori kicked the tray away and curled into himself, clawed fingers carding through his hair and covering his ears. He tucked his head between his knees and took a shaky breath.
Stop. Stop it. Just stop…
His breathing slowed. He vaguely realized his ears felt different, longer and pointed.
Don't think about it.
He was tired.
Don't think about it.
Exhausted.
Don't think about it.
Don't think…
"Noumu."
"All Might… are you there?"
Toshinori's head shot up, and clawed hands clutched the hospital gown at his chest. He panted as he looked around the bright room. He was sure he heard… A memory. Izuku on the phone.
Toshinori grit his teeth. Izuku needed him. He was still the boy's teacher. He had to live for his sake. He promised. He promised.
His own words echoed back at him, "Wanna give up? Wanna take it easy and rest today? You won't make it!"
Toshinori's hands stilled and his breathing grew steady.
I still have a job to do.
There was a knock at the door. Toshinori glanced behind him, pulling his claw away from the scratched line in the grout by the chains' base.
Isamu opened the door, dressed not in scrubs but casual clothes. An umbrella stuck out from his jacket pocket and he held a clear IV bag. When he met Toshinori's eye, the young man perked up.
"Oh, thank goodness you're awake!" he exclaimed, placing his hand over his heart in relief.
Toshinori eyed the IV bag and tensed when he saw bandages wrapped around Isamu's hand. An uneasy feeling coiled in his gut.
Isamu closed the door behind him then paused.
"You're really not a fan of hospital food, huh?" Isamu said, but his voice fell flat. The tray Toshinori kicked had collided with the other, littering the floor with the remains of the salad and hospital sandwich. He stooped and quickly swept the food onto a tray and nudged it out of the way. "Good as new."
Toshinori furrowed his brows when Isamu stuffed his bandaged hand into his pocket.
"I brought another IV bag," Isamu said, filling the silence with his chatter. He gestured to the back of Toshinori's left hand where the IV tube had been reattached. "You… you were asleep for a while and I didn't want you to get dehydrated. How're you feeling?"
Toshinori lifted his hands, claws pointed up.
"Oh, yeah… Those are new," Isamu looked away, busying himself with replacing the IV bag on the pole. He pointedly avoided using his bandaged hand.
"Arr-" Toshinori coughed and rubbed his throat.
"Are you okay?" Isamu asked.
Are you? Toshinori quirked an eyebrow and pointed at Isamu's bandaged hand.
Isamu tensed ever so slightly and forced a smile.
"This?" he raised his hand, "I just cut it on something. It isn't a big deal."
Toshinori huffed, pushed himself up, and towered over the young man. He placed his hands on his hips. You're a bad liar.
Isamu paled and backed away a step.
"You're… you're a lot taller in person," Isamu said, his voice trembling slightly.
Toshinori snorted, pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, and laughed. With a shake of his head, he took two steps backwards and sat back down. He pat the floor beside him.
Take a seat, young man.
Isamu hesitated then sat beside him with his back not quite against the wall.
"Here," he said, digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out the small notebook. "I couldn't leave it in here."
Toshinori flipped open the notebook and saw the old scribbled messages. He huffed and promptly bopped the top of Isamu's head with it.
Isamu leaned away and spluttered, "W-what was that for?"
Toshinori tapped the previous notes with a claw and shook his head. He tore the page out and crumpled it. Carefully, he pulled the cap off of the pen, fumbling for a moment for a decent grip, and wrote.
"You put yourself at too much risk already. Don't carry around evidence. Don't get hurt for my sake, young man."
Isamu nodded then jolted when Toshinori pat his back.
Toshinori's eyes lit up as he was struck with a thought. He grinned and popped the evidence into his mouth.
"Wh-!" Isamu's eyes went wide as Toshinori chewed and swallowed, grimacing and sticking his tongue out in distaste.
"Devour Quirk," Toshinori wrote, "Might as well use it for good. Keep you out of trouble." He winked as he drew a line under the word "Might."
Isamu snorted and covered his mouth.
"That's… that's really lame," he said with a laugh.
Toshinori pretended to pout but a smile pulled at the side of his mouth. He gently elbowed Isamu before tapping the umbrella.
"Raining?" he wrote.
Isamu nodded, "It's been raining for a while. There was a pretty bad storm but it's supposed to lighten up. Still," he patted the handle of the small umbrella, "can't be too careful."
Toshinori nodded and jotted down a note, then pulled Isamu's bandaged hand from his pocket. He turned the notebook toward Isamu as he raised the bandaged hand higher.
"Now tell me about your hand."
Isamu sighed reluctantly.
"It was an accident," Isamu said quietly, lowering his hand when Toshinori released it, "You really don't have to worry about it. Just … just really small punctures, that's all."
"Did I do that?" Toshinori wrote, his brows furrowed in earnest.
"It wasn't your fault," Isamu insisted. He flexed his hand and gently massaged it with his thumb. "A part of a nurse's job is to comfort the sick. I was just doing my job when the … your claws developed. You wouldn't get mad at a kid who can't control their quirk yet. It's not their fault if they accidentally scratch you or something. So, it's not your fault. You didn't ask for claws. You didn't ask for any of this."
Toshinori blinked and he bowed his head a little, examining his hands folded in his lap. He held out his palm and pressed the tips of his claws against the softer skin. They were sharp and nearly bit into his skin with only a little pressure. Toshinori frowned and bent over the notebook again.
"I'm sorry."
"You really shouldn't be," Isamu said. He pulled his legs up and hugged his knees. "It isn't your fault this is happening to you."
Toshinori huffed slightly, seeing the young nurse's face twist with guilt.
"You shouldn't be either," he wrote, "You and I are both in chains. How did you get mixed up with this?"
Isamu bit his lip and he looked away from the notebook. He was silent for a long moment, then he let out a shaky breath.
"Wrong place, wrong time," he muttered.
Toshinori waited.
"This hospital used to have a partnering medical lab in the Kamino Ward," Isamu began, "Mostly research and volunteer human trials. With so many varieties of quirks, medication development has to be widely tested before it can be approved for use. They also had the ward for terminal cancer patients. I worked there before that fight in Kamino. I helped make the patients as comfortable as possible, you know, to help ease their passing.
"Well, there was a middle-aged lady who didn't have a whole lot of time left and no family to speak of. I figured I'd visit with her for a while after my shift. And he was there. He and my supervisor. Tetsumi called him Sensei and said he was there to help. I didn't know… She was helping him take that woman's quirk." Isamu hugged his knees tighter.
"This was a few months before the incident at the Kamino Ward," he continued, "Sensei … that villain showed me things. Those noumu. There were so many and they had been people. I couldn't tell anyone and I had to keep working there. Tetsumi had me moved to her shift. I'm pretty sure they had me followed when I went home. I don't know how many doctors and nurses worked under him, but I recognized some of the people who worked on the noumu. I didn't want to help them, but … I didn't want him to take my quirk or make me one of those things."
Isamu suddenly tensed and looked at Toshinori in horror.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean - You aren't -" he bowed his head in shame, "You're still All Might. You … aren't like the others."
Toshinori frowned sadly and let out a long sigh. He wrote for a moment and placed the notebook on Isamu's head.
Isamu flinched at the soft touch before pulling the notebook in front of him.
"I am sorry you had to go through that. I am sorry I wasn't there to help you."
Toshinori squeezed the young nurse's shoulder, careful with his claws. His grip tightened when Isamu sniffled.
Isamu sat a little straighter and forced a laugh, "You have hero friends, don't you? They've got to be looking for you." Isamu looked at the locked door, "I hope they find you."
He passed the notebook back to Toshinori and turned fully toward him, "Okay. Let's work on getting your voice back. Tetsumi doesn't work this part of the shift, so we have all the time in the world."
Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi sat at his office desk and rummaged through the files piled haphazardly over its surface, attempting to make some sense of the disorder. Since when had he become so disorganized? Naomasa pinched the bridge of his nose. His gaze strayed to the small file on the right corner of his desk where the mess of papers did not touch. It was too important to be lost.
The phone rang.
Naomasa sighed and forced his thoughts away from the missing person report. He brushed aside the paper on the phone and answered, "Detective Tsukauchi speaking."
"It's Yori from Evidence. You need to see what we found." They paused, "You said to call you first if it's about the Yagi case."
Naomasa was out the door before the receiver clicked back into place.
Toshinori…
A quick trip in the elevator and Naomasa burst into Evidence.
Ryuuko Yori quickly stood and adjusted their glasses as Naomasa entered the room.
"That was fast," they remarked, turning and motioning for Naomasa to follow. "We found the car."
Naomasa's eyes widened, "Wha-? No - Where was it?"
Yori looked back, a scowl on their reptilian face. Their eyes narrowed, "Oh, you'll love this. The perpetrator has quite the sense of humor. It's a complete mockery of everyone's hard work."
Oh no. Naomasa unconsciously picked up his pace as they neared the evidence garage.
The car was parked in the center of the garage, fully intact, not a scratch on it. Flood lights pointed down, lighting up its interior. Lab technicians milled around it, taking pictures and making notes on their observations.
"You want to know where we found it?" Yori spat out with distaste, gesturing to the vehicle as if it wronged them. "It was parked right outside the P.D. We pulled security tapes, but they aren't much help. We're still processing the outside."
"The driver?" Naomasa asked, circling around the car, careful to stay out of the photographer's way.
"Unknown. The street light went out when the car approached last night. Possibly due to a quirk. The cameras only caught the driver's silhouette, which didn't match the description of the escapee. Unless he has some shape-shifting quirk, it wasn't him."
Naomasa nodded grimly, "So, he got someone else to drive it here. What about other evidence? You wouldn't call me down for just this."
"Correct," Yori swiftly put on gloves and opened the back, passenger-side door, "We found clothes, presumably belonging to Toshinori Yagi, in the back here. A coat folded neatly on the seat, and a pair of shoes and socks. There was a small blood stain on the coat's lapel. It's being checked for DNA now."
They shut the car door firmly and led Naomasa back into the lab.
Yori pulled out an evidence bag and placed it on the light table, "We found a note and these clippings in the coat pocket."
Naomasa remained silent, paling as he looked over the clippings, each one a news article describing the capture of "Noumu." USJ. Hosu. Kamino. Dread coiled in his gut. There was no question now. All for One took Toshinori.
He shoved that train of thought aside and swallowed the lump in his throat, "You said you found a note?"
Yori looked him over, and Naomasa saw their tongue test the air nervously. They placed the bagged slip of paper in front of him.
Neatly curved lettering took up the center of the small card.
"Keep them. I'm making another."
Naomasa clenched his fists, and his expression darkened.
"Anything else?"
Yori flinched at Naomasa's clipped question.
"No sir," they said, scaly green brows furrowed in concern, "You'll be the first I call if - when we find anything else."
Naomasa nodded once, "I'll see myself out."
Yori's voice trailed off as Naomasa neared the exit, "We'll find your friend, sir."
Naomasa stopped at the door, hand on the doorknob.
"Thank you, Yori," he said, his voice tense but professional. "Keep up the good work."
Once Naomasa reached the stairwell, the dread held in his gut twisted painfully and emotion surged through him. He braced himself against the wall as his arms and shoulders shook.
Naomasa finally let out a shaky sigh. Toshinori is alive.
"I'm making another."
"Damnit," Naomasa ran a hand down his face, his new hope tainted by what the note and newspaper clippings implied. He covered his mouth as nausea soured his stomach. That first noumu at USJ…
Naomasa's own words haunted him, "We came to uncover that he has the DNA of at least four completely different people mixed into his own."
Was Toshinori..?
His gut clenched, and he roughly swallowed the bile in his throat.
"What am I going to tell the kid?" his voice echoed quietly in the empty stairwell.
Naomasa took a steadying breath and furrowed his brow. Righteous fury burned in his chest, fury he and Toshinori shared.
No. Focus on finding Toshinori first.
Naomasa's strength returned as he climbed the steps, plans already forming in his mind.
All for One needed a lab for the horde of noumu back in Kamino - an abandoned warehouse. Areas away from the public eye, that was All for One's M.O. Toshinori likely hadn't even left the city with how arrogantly All for One abandoned the vehicle. Narrow the scope. Think.
"Stay strong, All Might."
Stay strong, Toshinori. We'll find you.
Toshinori hummed soft and low, tapping the tips of his claws in time to the rhythm. Humming had been Isamu's idea, a simple way to warm up and loosen his vocal chords. Every now and again his voice would catch and crack painfully, but the more he hummed, the less that happened.
Earlier, Toshinori tried speaking with mixed results. The movements of his mouth and tongue were the same; it was his throat that threw a wrench in his attempts. At best, he ended up croaking syllables and letting out broken groans before his voice snagged painfully. It was a frustrating process, but all things worth doing were.
The lines Toshinori clawed into the wall by the chain bases were growing deeper. If he could just pull the tiles away, he could figure out how best to remove the bases. He glanced at the screwheads he tried to unscrew from the wall. Unfortunately, his claws were not the correct shape. He only managed to strip the head and dull the tip of his claw.
He huffed as a wave of fatigue passed over him and went back to humming, focusing on how his throat felt.
The lock on the door clicked loudly, and Toshinori tensed, his humming silenced.
Nurse Tetsumi walked briskly into the small room, her presence worsening the headache behind his eyes. A small frown tugged at the corner of his mouth but he forced an overly polite smile.
Evening, Nurse, he thought with mild venom.
"Oh," she deadpanned, meeting his defiant gaze, "You're awake again."
Toshinori shrugged, palms up with a cheeky tilt of his head.
I know. Such an inconvenience, he wished he could say aloud. He hoped his challenging grin got the message across.
To his surprise, the nurse sneered.
"I see your claws came in. You're looking more like a proper weapon now," her voice sharpened, "That's all you are going to be, noumu. A tool."
Toshinori's hackles raised and his claws twitched slightly. Pain spiked behind his eyes, and he mentally shook off the irritation. Since when was he so temperamental?
After a moment, he leaned back against the wall and gave the nurse an unimpressed look.
I've heard worse insults, Toshinori thought to himself, scoffing a little at the memories. Most of them came from either Gran Torino or a certain flame hero. "Tool" was tame.
His hackles relaxed and he absently rolled his shoulders at the sensation. He was starting to get used to it.
"The world knows about Sensei's escape now," Nurse Tetsumi said, her back turned to him as she went to the counter and opened one of the high cabinets.
Woah, Toshinori furrowed his brows, Where did that come from?
"There was an emergency broadcast and a press conference. It was quite the scene. The heroes and officials struggled to answer the reporters' questions even though they had days to prepare." She glanced over her shoulder and Toshinori schooled his curiosity, "No mention of you, I'm afraid," her lips curled into a half-smile, "I guess the world's already forgotten the great All Might. Not that a simple noumu would care about that."
Toshinori snorted at her attempt to goad him.
You overestimate my vanity, he thought with an amused smile. Besides, I know a few people who have not forgotten me.
Nurse Testumi's eyes flashed with anger, "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you," she stepped closer and leaned into his personal space, "Don't think I haven't noticed when you get all glassy-eyed. Whether you like it or not, you are a noumu."
Glassy-? Toshinori couldn't help the small, confused frown that tugged at his smile. He tried to think back, but his headache throbbed. Another wave of fatigue coursed through him.
He felt so tired. Why?
"There it is," Tetsumi said, dangerously smug, "Noumu."
A small shudder ran down Toshinori's spine and his hackles rose. He hadn't realized he'd moved until his palm pressed against his forehead.
Tetsumi hummed thoughtfully, "But you're still too self-aware. The others succumbed much faster. Then again, they were volunteers. They were easier to command."
Volunteers?! Toshinori's brows rose. Who would want -?
"Petty criminals lusting for power. They got what they deserved," she stood, momentarily checking on the IV bag with a pensive frown. "They were given power and were so eager to obey Sensei's commands."
Toshinori watched her carefully, her tone putting him on edge.
"I wonder how long you will last before you want to obey him, noumu."
The edge of Toshinori's vision blurred and a spike of pain drove into his skull. He shook it off. A headache was nothing, but the fatigue…
"Stand, noumu." Tetsumi commanded.
Toshinori grit his teeth against the wave of exhaustion that followed her words but remained seated. He glared up at the nurse.
Don't underestimate me. I am still All Might.
But sweat dripped from his fevered brow.
Nurse Tetsumi glared, her lip twisted in a sneer.
"Don't think you're so high and mighty," she said, "You are a noumu created by Sensei. You flaunted your powers as All Might. You should be thankful you have more quirks now. Isn't that what you heroes want? To flaunt your powers?"
Where in hell did you get that idea? Toshinori gaped at the nurse and shook his head.
"Don't lie! You and the rest play hero while others clean up the mess and the lives you leave behind." She circled around him, getting even closer, and eyed his haggard appearance, "Heroes aren't much better than villains. Civilians out of reach are nothing but collateral damage, aren't they?"
Toshinori pushed himself to his feet.
"N-" No. He shook his head, a clawed hand gripping and tearing the material above his heart. They aren't collateral. Not to me. Not to any of us. We feel every loss.
Toshinori stared down at the nurse, willing her to understand. Whatever her circumstances, she was hurting and embittered. All for One must have seen that in her and used it to his advantage.
Toshinori reached out his hand to place on her shoulder and was abruptly yanked to his knees, chains coiled around his arms. He winced slightly, but looked up at Tetsumi with pity.
"Don't look at me like that!" Tetsumi shouted, voice cracking.
A shudder rushed down Toshinori's spine and his vision blurred.
What? I-? Where?
Someone was shouting.
"There! That's the look! You see? No, no of course you don't. You're a noumu."
No? I'm not. I'm -
Someone's shadow came close. Too close.
His hackles raised.
"Sensei's going to set you loose one day," the person whispered, "You will be the perfect weapon. He's going to use you to strike the heart of that false hero ideology you hold so dear, those youths already too far gone to save."
They paused, "Your precious students won't even recognize you when you tear at their throats."
The world flashed white and tilted.
The scent of blood assaulted his nose. A low rumbling growl came from somewhere nearby.
What?
Toshinori panted, pinned to the wall by his wrists. He shook his head. The growl morphed to a groan in his throat.
That was me?
His arms fell, abruptly released. His claws scraped loudly against the floor as he slumped forward, blinking away the white lights that danced at the forefront of his vision.
Toshinori lifted his head. His brows furrowed. A wide, red smear trailed away from him leading to -
Nurse Tetsumi knelt by the door, pressing her bloody arm close to her chest.
How-? Toshinori's thoughts felt so sluggish. She needs help. There was something terribly wrong.
Tetsumi hissed in pain and laughed, "Point proven."
"Y-" You need help. Toshinori pushed himself up on unsteady legs, stumbling back slightly before righting himself.
"It..'s" Toshinori's throat closed and he coughed. He ignored it.
It's alright. Why? He walked toward the injured woman. For I am h-
"Don't come any closer!"
Toshinori took another step forward and reached out with his palm up.
The woman thrust out her hand and a metal grip held Toshinori in place, his hand still outstretched.
It took far too long, but the pin dropped.
No…
Blood, her blood, stained the claws on his outstretched hand. Rivulets of it ran down his forearm and dripped onto the floor. He shook.
No. I didn't mean -
Nurse Tetsumi giggled, "Where did that light go?"
Toshinori looked up, eyes hidden in shadow.
I'm sorry.
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