Trigger Warning:
- discussion of sexual assault
- discussion of abuse
I'm ashamed to admit it, but my body finally caught up with the stress.
As an aspiring hero, the only reason I should be confined to bed rest is from injuries gained during a conflict.
Wounds I can wear like badges of honor.
Burnout syndrome is not something to be proud of.
Which is why Selene insists that I bunk school today. "It is Saturday. Tomorrow is the weekend. You will hardly suffer any losses from not attending class today," she reminds me. "If it is any consolation, I will take notes for you." That's not the issue. I'm all for playing hooky for one day. It's just … skipping because of sickness is not cool. When I tell her as much, she frowns and lightly shoves me. "If you prefer fatal wounds over a fever, then I suppose you possess some measure of ridiculous male ego, too." I guess I do.
Then her features soften. Perhaps she feels there is no point in getting upset with the unwell. She sits on the edge of the bed, beside my lying figure, and pats my cheek. "Shouto, it is not shameful to fall ill. I would prefer that you remain healthy all the time, but if it is a choice between watching you bedridden because of overwork or because of battle, then I select the former." Selene bends down and kisses my forehead. She whispers, "One of them can be recovered from with certainty; the other … not so much."
Her words are a balm. She is right. When it comes down to it, a high temperature can come down with some sleep and medication. All the side effects associated with inflicted harm are not so easy to treat. I should make the most of this and catch up on much-needed rest. But …
"What about your arthritic flares? You woke up feeling very sore. If they hit you during class, how will you reach the infirmary?" I ask with a raspy voice.
Selene reaches for the towel and bowl of warm water on the nightstand. After dipping the cloth and wringing it, she sets on my head. "Don't worry about me. I'll have Bakugou-kun or Midoriya-san escort me if the situation arises. For now, you should focus on recovering."
I open my mouth to counter. "But how-"
She presses a finger against my lips. "Love," she murmurs. And that word instantly silences any protests lodged in my throat. "You're always taking care of me. Let me do the same for you this once. What say?"
"Fine," I groan, half-heartedly. If I'm being honest, I actually enjoy being doted on. "At least it means that your attention will be on me instead of your cane." At that, I get another gentle push.
She glances at her watch and gets up. "There is some time until classes start. I think you should stay in my room for today. You may use my tub and shower. And if it is all right with you, I can retrieve your things from your dorm room." In other words, she is requesting for my room card. A great symbol of trust. "Only if you wish," she adds, nerves starting to get the best of her. "Otherwise, forgive me if I am being intrusive." With each word, her confidence ebbs.
"Check my wallet," I breathe out. "Third pocket."
She looks stunned. A part of her had expected me to turn her offer down. But she is quick to overcome it. Following my directions, she pulls out the card. Under her breath, she mutters a checklist. "Medicines, blanket, food, water, heater … all of those items are here. I should bring a set of clothes, toiletries, your comb … Shouto?" She speaks louder now. "Is there anything else you would like me to get?"
"Yeah," I grin, a teasing remark waiting on my lips. "You."
That emits a snort from her mouth. She shakes her head fondly and tousles my hair. "I wish I could stay here and give you company, but I promise that after classes are done, all my time will be devoted to you. Deal?"
"Deal! These seven hours are going to pass by like seven days."
Selene laughs once more. "Sleep the time away! Seven hours will go by without you realizing it. Oh! And one more thing! I'll tell Aizawa-sensei that you cannot attend."
She shuts the door behind her, leaving me all alone in her room and her memories. I shift on my side and rub the bedsheet on Selene's side of the bed. "I wish it were that easy," talking to no one but myself. "The nights you spend at the Hanada mansion and I spend in loneliness, they take an eternity to pass."
Indeed, I do not realize how seven hours fly by.
The fever lulled me into a sleep so deep, it is only when the door opens with a bang do I jolt awake. Selene, are you back? Groggy, I lift myself on my elbows to catch a sight of the visitor. All I can make out past the translucency of the mosquito net is a girl wearing her uniform, dashing toward the bathroom.
Seconds later, the sounds of vomiting follow.
Oh, shoot! What happened?
My body resists any intense movement. So when I finally maneuver out of the bed, I fall to the ground in a heap. Exhaustion racks me, but the choking and gasping coming from the bathroom are more important. With that determination, I push myself to my feet and use the bedposts as support. The bathroom door is partially open.
"Selene? Are you okay? May I come in?" No response besides the heavy breathing. Hoping that she will take no offense, I push open the door further.
There she is. Sitting on her knees in front of the toilet. One hand clasped around her stomach, the other bracing the toilet lid for support. Beads of sweat dot her temple, and her chest heaves up and down from exertion. Selene hiccups before leaning toward the toilet bowl and expelling more contents of her stomach.
I use the sink counter to close the gap between us. Once crossed, I crouch down to her level and push the wayward strands of her hair back. She turns her head toward me, face red and tears streaming down her cheeks. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
She has to retch one more time before she can answer my question. "Period started … intense cramps … nausea …"
The rest I can deduce. Over the years, I helped Fuyumi during her periods. Although she dealt with headaches and fatigue, her menstrual cycles were severe. It is my responsibility to assist Selene with hers. Especially after all she has done for me today. I move behind her and hold her chignon in place. "Let it all out, Selene," I say.
When her stomach empties completely, I flush the toilet for her. Guiding her to stand on her feet, I usher her to sit on the counter. She winces from the effort.
"I'm going to clean your face, okay? The cold water should help." I find a dry towel in one of the drawers and run it beneath the sink tap. She watches every action through half-lidded eyes. Wait. Half-lidded. Pressing the cloth against her cheek, I susurrate, "Hey, hey, hey! Don't pass out!"
"It hurts," she moans weakly.
With each stroke of the towel, I buy a few more seconds of consciousness. "I know, darling. But you're strong. You can pull through. Don't succumb to it."
Selene musters the strength to make a small smile. "Look at how our predicaments changed. This morning, I said that I would take care of you. And now? You are the one tending to me."
At that, I brush my nose against hers. "There is nothing shameful about that," I parrot her own words back at her. "We can take turns. I'm doing better after a nap, so let me help you. When I tire and you feel stronger, then you can look after me. Deal?"
She tilts her head, puzzled. "You're not disgusted by the fact that I'm bleeding?"
"Why would I feel disgusted?" It is my turn to experience confusion. Perhaps on a level greater than hers. "Half of the world population is made up of females, and a substantial portion of them, will, are, or have had periods. It's a natural process, so why be repulsed by it?"
Selene crosses her wrists behind my nape. At first, I think it is shame that compels her to avert her gaze. But the redness of her cheeks that has faded to a light pink blush tells me otherwise. She whispers, "You're kind, Shouto. Very kind. Most boys insult or avoid the subject entirely."
"And yet they have the guts to try to hook up with girls," finishing the double standard she meant to point out. She nods. "They're man-childs all of them. They should learn to develop a sense of respect and understanding for women before hitting on them. Boys like them don't value their mothers or sisters, either."
I watch Selene start to slip into unconsciousness once again. Giving her a little jerk, I encourage her to talk about her day. Homework, upcoming tests, gossip, and the like. Turns out that the teachers are being somewhat lax with their assignments because of the coming start of the new school year. She says, "None of them explicitly said it, but it was obvious from their behaviors. I think something big is going to happen." At this point, I've learned that Selene's intuition is brilliant. Whether it is an innate talent or the product of her business acumen, she is rarely wrong in her instinct. So I am going to take her word for it. Returning to the original conversation, we have no more exams now that finals are over. Good. Because I am fried from all those history study sessions.
Once her face retains a healthy color, I ask her to pause. "I'm going to fetch some clothes. You should wear something comfortable and that does not take much effort to wear and remove."
She wrings her hands, and I get the signal that something is on her mind. I open my mouth to ask her about it when she beats me to it. "Inside the second drawer of my dresser, there is a chiffon nightgown. Frost blue. Vintage design. I think that is the closest article of comfortability I possess." I move back to retrieve just that when my balance slips and I topple over. Landing ungracefully on the bathroom floor, Selene leans over the edge. "Shouto! Are you all right?"
Looks like I'm still wobbly on the legs. Using the support of the sink counter, I haul myself up. "More or less," I reply. And then I flinch. Reaching a hand to touch the back of my head, the skin becomes tender. "Ouch! It aches!"
"That was a bad fall." Selene begins to climb down the counter, and I halt her before she can descend completely. "Are you sure?" She is understandably dubious, but I am equally insistent. Finally, she relents. Pointing to her walking staff lying some distance away, she suggests, "You may use my cane. The sensation might feel strange, but it should help you in the meantime."
If the request for my room card was personal, then this offer is intimate. It's not that I have never touched the silver dragon or held it. But I never used it. The occasional curiosity nagged at me, making me wonder how it would feel to walk with constant support. How Selene felt when she relied on it. And now, she is giving me this chance. An opportunity to share the object she treasures the most and depends on the most. If I had been clueless before, then this moment made it irrefutable that Selene trusted me very much.
I bend down and grasp the handle. Details on the dragon have smoothed from years of use. The silver metal glow has dimmed. Still, the material is easy to hold. Once I find a suitable gripping position, I recall the way Selene maneuvers the stick to walk.
Because of our height difference, the cane falls below my hip. Meaning, I am going to unavoidably lean on my side to control my motions. It's better than stumbling all the way to the dresser, though. Now the question is, which hand should I hold it in?
Almost like she can hear my thoughts, she answers my unspoken question. "You want to wield on the side that pains less. For example, if the right side of your body feels feeble, then hold the cane in your left hand." I inquire if that is what her arthritis does: trouble one side of the body more than the other at any given time. She affirms. "Save for the flares, which set my entire being ablaze, that is how the usual aches persist."
"But my being feels like a rock has tied me underwater. I'm just drifting deeper and deeper into the depths, slowly surrendering to the pressure." Selene starts to get off once more to assist me. "Don't move!" I exclaim. "Not until I come back."
Like a petulant toddler, she scoots back until her back hits the mirror. Satisfied? She asks with her eyes. Yes, I am. I respond in the same manner.
It takes time to get accustomed to the feeling. Because my left hand is the one gripping the handle, my weight shifts toward that direction. It is like walking lopsided. Especially when I have to follow a particular protocol: cane and opposite leg move forward at the same time; cane leg follows after. It's something I have noticed while observing Selene, but to put it in practice … that is another story. Still, I manage to make it to the dresser. As she said, I open the second drawer and rummage through the clothes.
She wears expensive items. From breeches to shirts, dresses to skirts, waistcoats to socks, everything is made with fine quality material. Tags on the tops read foreign luxury brands who sell their products for tens of thousands of yen here. There are even Japanese brands, that cost even higher. Famous names like Sacai and Comme des Garçons amongst others decorate her collection. Then again, she is the heiress to the Hanada Group of Companies. One of the world's richest industries. She did mention that she was having a new wardrobe arranged for her official debut.
At last, I find the nightgown Selene described. Made of cloth so soft and a color so light, I could almost believe that it was woven from clouds and stitched with moonlight. If I look closely, small snowflakes embroider the bodice and trail to the hems. What really marvels me is that the gown is sleeveless. Thin straps support the empire waist design. Because of her scars, Selene is not the kind of girl to wear a garment that reveals her shoulders. But when I lift the dress, my doubts are cleared. Beneath it is a matching night robe – the same translucent blue of the nightgown but opaque enough to distort the markings. It is accompanied by a set of elbow-length, frosty cotton gloves.
I wish Selene could feel confident enough to expose her scars to me. However, it is not my right to push her. It is with that gloomy reminder that I close the drawer and return to the bathroom.
"Did you take a shower, Shouto? And some medicine?"
"Yeah, I did. But aren't I supposed to be taking care of you right now?"
"True. That doesn't mean I should not inquire after your health." As if to emphasize her point, Selene places a hand on my forehead, checking my temperature. It's not burning anymore, which is a good sign. Still … "The fatigue has not worn off. And neither has the loss of appetite. Don't think I haven't seen the untouched hand of bananas."
Since both of us are too physically exhausted, we're lying in her bed. Talking about mundane topics, providing comfort to the other as much as possible. I was experiencing some chills, and Selene's cramps increased in intensity. I had offered using my fire quirk to warm both of us, but she refused. Saying that we should salvage our strength, we compromised with hot packs. So here I am, on my back, with a hot towel resting on my forehead and two thermal pads on my chest; beside me rests Selene, turned on her side, one hot pack warming her waist. We just while the away the time until sleep overtakes us again.
The heat succeeds in dulling my senses. Hovering on the threshold between sleep and wakefulness, I am ready to submit when a lingering thought finally makes itself known. "Selene," I murmur. She hums, eyes shut already. "Earlier in the bathroom, why were you clenching your hands like that? Did something happen during school?" She opens her eyes blearily. Registering what I said, she becomes more alert. The internal war is evident inside her mind. "Please, whatever it is, tell me."
Selene takes a deep breath before delving into her tale. Her arthritis flared up around Lunch time, she explains. She was alone in the hallway, combating the pain. Just then, Miyamoto and his gang arrived. Seeing her vulnerable and isolated, he stalked toward her. "He had this perverse delight on his face," she comments, recoiling at the memory. "Like how a predator excites at spotting easy prey. He touched my face. Too debilitated to push him off, I turned my head away. But he kept doing it. Pulling my hair, pinching my cheek, poking my neck. I warned him to stop doing that. He didn't listen. His friends insulted me. It came to a point where he hooked his finger into my shirt collar and his company cheered for him to tug it down.
"That was when Bakugou-kun arrived. Later, he told me that he had forgotten his phone in the classroom. Bakugou-kun is a smart boy. Immediately, he grabbed Miyamoto-san from behind and punched him in the jaw. There was a fight. Four against one. But you are well aware of Bakugou-kun's temperament; he is relentless in a scuffle.
"The gang retreated, promising payback. Meanwhile, he escorted to me to the infirmary. Though I thanked him, he didn't ask any questions about the events that happened. As soon as he came, as quickly he left."
Two emotions color my mind. The rose pink of gratitude and the scarlet red of rage. Gratitude that I must express to Bakugou when I see him next time; rage at that douchebag's audacity to target Selene? Funny how closely related those hues are. What he did was blatant sexual harassment. No wonder she felt so afraid about discussing this with me. The argument I had with Miyamoto at the bookstore and the phone call between him and Hanada-shi reverberate inside my head. Hurting Selene was his intention from the start. His defeat at the writing-drawing competition irked him so much that he became determined to harm her.
Which means had Bakugou not come to the scene in time, he would have done a lot more than molest her. One analysis leads to another dark memory. This time, the nightmare Selene had in February. The one that led me to deduce that she was the victim of attempted rape. And that is what he would have done to her. Him … his lackeys … they would have seen to it that she was scarred permanently.
The realization is devastating. In a school renowned for protecting the citizens, such a brutal act was about to happen inside its walls.
Protective instinct seizes me. I cup her face and stroke her cheeks. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"
It's amazing how she can muster a smile in spite of everything that has happened. Is it for my sake or her own? She leans into my touch and answers, "I'm doing better, now that I'm with you. Sorry, Shouto. You made me promise to escape if I was ever trapped in a situation with Miyamoto-san. And yet, I did not." She glances down, unable to meet my eyes because of something that was not her fault.
"Look at me, my moon." She does not. I hook my finger under her chin to force her to make eye contact. Slowly, she meets my gaze. We've done this little routine so many times before that I know this is the process to get her to believe me. It's the only way she understands the depth of my conviction. "Don't apologize for his misdeeds. You were in a state where you could not flee even if you wanted to. That gave them no right to bully you. Miyamoto-san and his friends were in the wrong. That's the truth."
There is another truth, as well. If I were not confined to bed, then Selene would not have been harassed.
Fever be damned, with this revelation, I don't think I can sleep for the rest of the night. My mind races with ideas of our next steps. Under no circumstances will I let Miyamoto get away with this. But Selene is justifiably tired.
She removes my hands from her face to intertwine her fingers with mine. Pulling our clasped hands close to herself, she shuts her eyes once more.
Despite the adrenaline surge, the fever takes over me, too.
Soon enough, I fall into a deep slumber.
When we wake up, we'll strategize together.
I could not be more wrong.
When I arise from my nap, it is not to spend the evening talking with Selene.
It is to say goodbye.
Today is Saturday. How could I have possibly forgotten? Every Saturday evening, a chauffeur comes to campus to pick her up. She only returns the next day.
That is why Selene shakes me awake. Though she is still dressed in the frost blue nightgown, her suitcase and other bags are packed, placed by the door. "It seems rude to say this when you're ill, but without me here, you will have to spend the night in your room. I assure you this, though: when I come tomorrow, I'll treat you."
I shake my head. That's not what I'm worried about.
Selene is utterly unaware of my inner turmoil. It is evident in the way she crouches by my bedside and traces patterns on my cheeks. "Will you be all right? I can stay for a few more minutes if you like. At the very least, help you traverse the corridor," she continues.
Could you please stay the night? I want to ask. But of all the times my voice could defy me, it chooses this moment. Not a word escapes my throat. Damn this late symptom of a sore throat. Lips form the shapes of the consonants and vowels, and Selene stares confused.
"Don't exert yourself, Shouto. I'll get a pen and paper."
However, the stationery is in the direction of the door. As Selene moves closer and closer to it, panic wrenches my heart. It is all too easy to envision her opening that door and crossing the threshold. Going somewhere where I cannot protect her.
It is that fear that guides my feet out of the bed, onto the floor, toward her. Lethargy still racks my body from head to toe, but the feeling is miniscule compared to the terror. Silently, slowly, steadily, the gap between us lessens. And that shortening distance is what boosts my courage further.
Nine steps, eight steps, seven steps left.
Six steps, five steps, four steps left.
Three steps, two steps, one step left.
Zero.
I embrace my moonlight from behind.
Remembering the atrocities she endured today, I do my best not to scare her. First a touch to her upper arms to let her know that it is me. When she calls out my name as a question, I take the initiative to wrap one arm around her waist and the other across her shoulders. Slowly, so she doesn't freeze. The last thing I want to do is remind her of the bastards who harmed her.
Selene rotates her head just enough to peer at me from the corner of her eye. "Shouto?" she says again, dumbfounded. "What's wrong? I was just getting something to help you write with." Her free hand rises to cover my cheek.
Don't go, I want to say. This weekend, don't go back there. Stay with me. Please.
Oh, the irony. The moment desperation consumes me wholly is the moment my voice becomes a traitor. My sight falls onto the notebook and pen on her desk. Removing my arm that hugs her shoulders to uncap the pen, I begin giving my fear a manifestation.
Selene. I have a request to make. A big one. Will you grant it? I write. "A big request? If it is within my ability, then certainly," she replies. Then do not return to the Hanada manor tonight. Spend the Saturday night with me. The Sunday evening. Her eyes widen. Then fall. "Ask from me any wish, and I swear I will fulfill it wholeheartedly. But this one … Shouto, I'm helpless. I have to go." With the arm of mine that is still wrapped around her midriff, I hold her closer. She gasps at the proximity yet does not push me away. Instead, she slides both her hands to envelop the one embracing her. I care about you, darling. This fever was caused by the tension of not knowing what horrors you were suffering. The knowledge that I am utterly powerless to defend you. "I know, love. Believe me. That's why I've been collecting so much evidence against Hanada-sama, and you have been convincing potential witnesses to support our cause." He's going to hurt you, I counter. That's what he always does. It won't be any different this time.
She threads her fingers through mine and murmurs, "Not for much longer. Soon he will be out of our lives. For good." A cold anger undertones her voice. Not toward me but for the man responsible for destroying her life. The man whom I despise more than the League of Villains. And I agree. With the case file basically ready, it is only a matter of time before Hanada-shi gets punished for a small set of sins he committed. While the ones he did to Selene may never come into the light, she can live the rest of her life free from his chains.
However …
A new threat has arisen. I was hoping I wouldn't have to write it because writing breathes substance. My hand trembles as the inky words appear on paper.
What if Miyamoto is there? He is collaborating with your adoptive father to ruin you. What if his misbehavior earlier today was a portent of what is waiting for you if you leave? You said it yourself: would he attempt to hurt you at school or at the mansion? I don't want to find out if the answer is both.
If I were not supporting Selene with my weight from behind, she would have toppled to the floor as though she were boneless. Her eyes pore over the words, scanning every sentence rapidly. Committing them to memory. "A-a-and w-when I … I s-s-see you again …" she stammers. "Y-You'll find me an … an a-a-absolute mess."
That's right, I scratch onto the notebook. Moonflower, every time you return to campus, you appear no different from a corpse. That silver glow in your eyes dims. I put all my effort into resuscitating you, and it takes a little longer each time. I don't want to know how much I will have to strive to restore that light if you return this upcoming Sunday.
"W-which is p-p-precisely why you fail to get sufficient s-sleep." I bury my face in the crook of her neck. It is enough of an affirmation. At this angle, I can feel her swallow. The up and down motion of her jugular. The pulsing heart that takes no name of steadying. "All right. I'll stay."
Surprise forces my head up to stare at her. Her stuttering has ceased. The agitation that seeped into every fiber of her being has dissipated. That icy tone from before coats her words once more. "If both Hanada-sama and Miyamoto-san think that they can use me however they wish, then I am determined to prove them wrong." She turns around to properly face me. Her hands lock themselves behind my nape. Now her mood changes. Winter frost that threatened to decay everything in its path paves the way for spring blossoms to bloom. Selene rises on her toes to kiss my forehead. "Not once has it sat right with me that you suffer my share of pain. I apologize for every single evening you devoted to stirring some semblance of life inside me. You did not deserve that torture. Spending the weekend with you will not erase the misery of the ones before, but I would like to give you happy ones from now on." Another kiss. "Deal?"
As if I would refuse.
I am ready to pull her into a tight, full-body embrace when my phone rings. Oh, screw this hinderer! Whoever you are, your timing sucks! Selene laughs at my dramatic gesture of slumping onto her neck slope. Between chuckles, she breathes, "With your permission, I can check who the caller is." Nooooooooo, I complain silently. No compromises on affection time.
With a tug, she tugs me toward the nightstand. Reluctantly, I follow her. When we reach her bed, she presses down my shoulders, ordering me to sit down. Like an obedient pet, I follow her command. The mosquito net forms a partition between us. There should not be one. The instant she looks away is the opportunity I seize to grab her stomach and pull her onto my lap. She yelps from the suddenness, and I lift her legs so that her body is angled perpendicular to mine.
A disappointed glower mars her features before morphing into an amused scoff. She shoves me once more before showing the phone screen to me. It is a call from Sasaki-san. Beckoning for her to accept it, my nerves tingle with anticipation of what news he might bring. I pray it's good.
"Hello? Shouto-kun?" he greets.
Selene glances at me, waiting for my next instruction. Nodding, I assent to her becoming my spokesperson. "Good afternoon, Sasaki-san. This is Selene. Shouto has come down with a terrible fever and lost his voice, so he has requested that I speak in place of him. He is present with me, however."
He makes a sound of understanding. "Actually, it might be better that both of you are listening. You see, I submitted the case file to the court today. And I received notice that it is under review."
I can't believe it! It's finally happening. All our efforts are coming to fruition.
"That's excellent news, Sasaki-san!" Selene remarks, sharing the same enthusiasm as me. "How long until Hanada-sama receives a notice?"
He tells us that it will be a few weeks until that happens since the court is very busy. But once they study the evidence, they will be compelled to take action. He adds, "I am going to inform Madam Ahearn Aline as well. Expect many calls from us in the future."
After exchanging our goodbyes, he hangs up. Meanwhile, I scoop Selene into my arms and stand up. She emits a sound of astonishment, and I carry her to the center of the room, where there is enough space to spin her around like crazy. With each twirl, our jubilation multiplies exponentially. Her laughter, my laughter … they are indiscernable. It is the only thing I can hear. The only sound I want to hear. Exhilaration courses through my feeble body. I could do this forever. No fever, no sore throat could stop me.
Of course, it is something else that does. Something very mundane and anticlimactic. The rug. The rapid circular motions make the rug bunch up just a little beneath my feet. It is enough to send us both toppling to the ground.
I take the brunt of the fall, landing on my back, while Selene falls on top of me.
Like a mantra, she asks whether I am all right. Stroking back my hair, feeling my head for bruises, blowing cool air against where she thinks I am hurt. I enjoy being doted upon like this. As though I am the center of her universe, the way she is of mine. My response to her flurry of questions is to embrace her and smile a grin so bright, it could push away all the clouds blocking the moon's gentle light.
Selene slides her hands from my face to rest against the slope of my shoulders.
"This is not such a bad way to mark a new beginning to weekend joy," she giggles.
I agree.
With your acceptance to never return and Sasaki-san's wonderful message, things are brightening.
Our future is looking better.
And when all of this is over, I will properly ask you out.