Chapter 1: Trapped in a Moment
Kendo stared at the pavement with mounting horror. It was bare inches from her eyes, her forehead and nose rested upon it. She could see grains in it, the little stones. She whimpered, knowing what was coming, reminded by the wracking cough from her side. Words were blotted out by lungs that were quickly filling with blood.
And then she saw it. A single red rivulet crawling into view. She whimpered, watching as it caught on one of the stones, beading up before following the path of least resistance. It was followed by another, just a small trickle, and then another. She watched as the little branches began to merge, coating the pavement.
It would be soaking into her bangs now, slicking her hair to her forehead. Warm sticky lifeblood, spilling out and spreading over the sidewalk. All too quickly coating the ground before her eyes, obscuring the pavement.
She wished she could get up, or cry, or close her eyes. But she couldn't. All she could do was whimper helplessly as the trickle turned into a torrent, unable to block out the sputtering cough from the woman who lay dying only a meter away.
She couldn't see the blood as it wrapped around her nose, she couldn't even properly smell it, but she knew it was there, knew that she'd be sucking it in with every breath. Instinctively she took a breath through her mouth and instantly regretted it. She couldn't taste it, but she could feel it, the slick stickiness on her tongue.
She couldn't spit it out, She couldn't get it out of her mouth, out of her nose, and it was even getting closer to her eyes.
She screamed. Finally, she screamed, lurching up into darkness. Her wild eyes cast around her rooms as she took a breath and caught herself. She could taste it. She could smell it. She held her breath, all but falling out of her bed and frantically casting about for her wastebasket. She barely touched it when her body rebelled and she took another breath.
There was no blood, but still she wretched, acid racing up her throat and spilling out of her mouth. She coughed and sputtered, her body trembling as a second gush of the foul liquid splattered on her floor. It stopped then, her throat raw, mouth filled with foulness and acid, and yet she couldn't stop herself from leaning down towards it and took a breath through her nose to dispel the terrible coppery scent.
That was how her father found her, on her hands and knees, inches over her own vomit, sucking in breath after breath. She hadn't heard the door open, but he was at her side, grabbing her shoulders and gently lifting her up and pulling her into a hug. Large hands rubbed her back as he repeated that she was okay, that she was home, that she was safe. She held onto him like a life preserver, sobbing into his shoulder like a child.
Safe?
Safe?
How could she be safe if Stain was still out there, ready to judge her?
Uwabami's sudden murder at Stain's hands had turned into a media circus because of the witnesses. Two interns, both left alive to tell the tale. The press smelled blood, the police smelled leads, and it was all Kendo's parents could do to keep her tucked away to grieve and recover from the trauma.
And that was to say nothing of the media frenzy that was Uwabami's funeral. After living life in the spotlight as much as possible, some heroes kept their funerals as quiet as possible.
Uwabami was not one of those heroes.
A showwoman to the end, she had wanted as elaborate a ceremony as possible. The more people, the more cameras, the better. Per her request, it was even open casket. Everyone agreed she left a beautiful corpse, the jagged wound in her chest carefully concealed under a fresh copy of her costume.
Kendo hadn't been able to watch it at all. The memory of blood, blood, blood, of gasps, and coughs, and gurgles filled her mind. Then it had ended, and barring heroes announcing they would avenge her by taking down Hero Killer Stain, she was as gone from the front pages as she was from the mortal coil.
That was when Kendo had finally watched, finding clips and videos, listened to the prayers, the announcement of Uwabami's good deeds so she would be remembered. She watched the news reports, switching from one to the next, taking in every angle she could find. She didn't even know what good it would do. Did she owe Uwabami this?
She closed her eyes, blocking out the splatter of blood, the look on Uwabami's face when the sword with those terrible serrated blades pierced her from behind. It wasn't even a thrusting weapon, and yet it had been driven through her. Immediately Uwabami had gone pale. Their mentor had known it was a fatal injury, she knew.
Going from arguing with her interns to being mortally wounded in a matter of seconds. Tears trickled down Kendo's cheeks as she clicked to the next video. Why had they stopped at the mouth of an alley? Uwabami had just… stopped and said they were wrapping up.
Yaoyorozu looked so crushed. Seeing her fellow intern like that, instinct took over and she'd asked for more, for anything more. A lesson, advice, anything really, if only to keep the internship from being a total waste.
Her plea had distracted Uwabami, a rescue hero who specialized in finding people during natural disasters. Her snakes could taste the air and detect people, even people trapped under rubble or buried underground. Certainly, she should have been able to detect someone coming. But she had distracted her. Uwabami had been so focused on her, and she'd been so focused on Uwabami that neither of them had spotted or heard Stain sneaking up on her.
She had helped cause Uwabami's death.
And then she stood there, gawking, even as Yaoyorozu rushed to Uwabami's side, conjuring out a first aid kit. Stain had slashed Yaoyorozu's cheek, and sent her sprawling back. Yaoyorozu fell and didn't rise.
Then it was her turn. She'd been so focused on Uwabami, laying on the ground, coughing and gurgling on her own blood, it was only when Yaoyorozu fell that she'd finally snapped out of her shock. And by then it was far too late. A slash, this one across her arm as she raised it to defend herself, and a second later her entire body stiffened.
She'd begun to fall when he'd caught her. Terror had welled up in her heart as she looked into the eyes of a madman. She'd been too scared to absorb his rant about worthy and unworthy heroes, until he drew her back at the end, squeezing her wounded arm until it hurt to make sure she was listening as he warned her what would happen if she turned out to be unworthy. And then he'd dropped her.
Her paralyzed arm braced her fall. Her forehead had smacked into the pavement, but there was a small depression that saved her nose.
Oh, how she wished it hadn't.
Laying there, frozen on the ground, all she could do was listen helplessly as Stain pulled the sword out of Uwabami's back, the serrated edges drawing out an agonized sound from the dying heroine. And then he left, making his escape before another hero was alerted.
For a terrible moment, she wished Uwabami would die, just to end the heroine's suffering. The coughing, wheezing and gasping, and all the terrible sounds of someone whose lungs were filling with their own blood filled her ears.
She thought that was the most terrible moment of her life.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
She would never forget the feeling of Uwabami's blood pooling up around her arm, rolling down the length and soaking the side of her uniform. The fabric clung to her, but that wasn't the end. The blood followed the path of least resistance, spilling into the pothole she'd fallen into face first.
It haunted her dreams, the taste, the smell, the sensation of it coating her brow. She almost drowned in it, had almost followed Uwabami to the grave. It was only when it reached her lips that she found she could force herself to move again. She'd crawled out of it, her entire front soaked with blood from head to toe, before vomiting and vomiting until there was nothing left, and still continuing to dry heave until it became hard to breathe.
She had no clue what happened after that. Catatonia. Blissful ignorance. Why couldn't that have happened from the start? Why did she have to remember everything?
Author's Notes: Stain was a terrible person, full stop. His ideology hurt people, more than we saw, more than he killed. We never got to see it, the closest we got was Iida. But even then, we never touch down after the incident. His murders would be a lingering scar on all those he hurt.
This is going to be harsh. Kendo isn't okay and isn't going to be okay. This was a deeply traumatizing event that will have massive implications for her life. She's going to need a lot of time and therapy.
