"So, you... can heal people?" Her dad asked, gesturing for her to take the seat across him on the dining table. He nodded to himself. There was a carton of orange juice on the table and two glasses, which her dad and filled with the stuff. She could tell that her father wasn't sure what he wanted to say or how to say it. "That's a... really good power, I guess. When did... uhm... when did you get them?"

Taylor sat down and stared at her hands for a moment, then at the cup of orange juice. She couldn't quite tell him everything, no matter how much she hated lying to her father. It was dark by the time they got home. Taylor hated the single light bulb that hung over their heads. It felt like the scene of a horror show. "Since a few days ago... since Winslow."

"I see," Her dad took a sip of the orange juice and sighed. He then brought a hand up over his face and shook his head, sighing again. "Alright, so, how does this work, kiddo? Do you wanna be a hero?"

"I don't know," Taylor answered. Her dad raised a brow. "I mean, yes, but not like the famous ones. I just wanna help people. I don't wanna get involved with the Wards or the Protectorate..."

The former, she'd avoid because getting saddled with teenage drama would just give her a headache. The latter... because she'd definitely get found out somehow if she was anywhere near them. Oh sure, she had healing powers, but, surely, they'd be able to trace her if she kept running away after healing forty people, only for a maniac to suddenly appear. No, she had to stay away from the Protectorate. Actually, the same reason was true for the Wards option. They'd find out eventually. So, the best move, going forward, was to stay hidden. She'd need a mask to hide her face and... as much as she hated it, she'd need to hide her hair as well, no matter how much she cared for it, no matter how much it reminded her of her mother's hair. Nothing should be traced back to her, to her father. Nothing.

"Okay," Her father nodded. "We can work with that. Your power's not... dangerous, I think. It's not the sort that'll get you into trouble, at least, not like shooting lasers out of your eyes or lifting and throwing cars at people. But a lot of groups are gonna try to recruit you, Taylor. Being a part of the Wards should mitigate that, no?"

She'd already thought up an answer for that one. "I'd only be healing the people they want me to heal. Plus, being a healer – a really good one at that – gives me a lot of leeway, I think. And I can even earn some money out of it. I mean, lots of rich people have incurable diseases, right? But not all of them are lucky enough to get in Panacea's radar; she's got her hands busy, all day, everyday. Maybe, there's a niche in there, somewhere, that I can get my hands on."

"You've really thought this through, huh, kiddo? Her dad asked, smiling. "But, you're right. I can think of a few billionaires who'd like a few cancers gotten rid of. They'd pay a pretty penny for it, too. Contacting them is gonna be a bit complicated, but I think we can manage."

It wasn't the best plan, because getting into contact with these people wasn't exactly possible just yet. However, the best way to get into everyone's radar was to just... start healing. Her name would get out there eventually and, soon enough, people would come to her for healing. Yeah, that'd work. She could be a hero and still earn a lot of money. And I wouldn't be under anyone's control. And, as dad said, if anyone did come after her, then... well... they'd learn really quickly how terrible of an idea that'd be. There's a monster living inside her, after all, just waiting to claw its way out.

Once again, her mind conjured images of Winslow – of all the blood and death. And, briefly, Taylor wondered if the authorities were any closer to finding her.

"Can you heal yourself, kiddo?" Her dad suddenly asked. And, honestly, it was a pretty good question. Taylor had to wonder if healing herself counted towards the maximum number of people she could heal, until Sukuna inevitably took over. Nah, since it wasn't stipulated that she wasn't, then it was safe to assume that she was. There's no way Sukuna would heal her unless she was dying outright. Sukuna did mention that they were stuck together. Taylor didn't know what that meant, but his willingness to defend her if she had no other hope left meant that her life had to be important to it, to the monster. It was possible, then, that Sukuna would die with her if she perished. And that monster clearly did not want to die.

Taylor nodded. "I can, dad."

"You're not like that other healer, then- what's her name? Ah, got it. Panacea. Her name's Panacea, I think."

Taylor frowned and shook her head. Panacea couldn't heal herself? That was... a pretty big weakness, actually. What happens if someone walks up to her and attacks? Well, she had Glory Girl for defense, Taylor figured, but the collateral damage barbie couldn't be there every single time, right? "No, I can heal myself if necessary."

Her dad let out a shaky breath. "That's good. That's very good. A lot less to worry about if you can do that."

"So," Her dad continued. "No wards, no PRT. No need for either, since you're a healer, but we're gonna need to come up with a proper costume for you. I'm not very good with a needle, but I think we can whip something up for you; I don't think it'd even be that hard."

Taylor chuckled a bit as she imagined herself and her father engaging in, for the first time in a very long time, a shared activity that didn't involve sitting in silence, while eating. This was something neither of them had any experience in, but it'd be nice to finally spend some time with her father. "Yeah, that'd be great. I have a lot of spare clothes that we could use."

Her father smiled. "Now, how about we start talking about your education? Being a hero sounds nice, but you're not weaseling your way out of school, kiddo."

Despite everything, Taylor chuckled and pouted. Her dad huffed and smiled. "Come on, Taylor. We were gonna have to talk about this eventually. You're gonna have to go back to school."

"But, dad, Winslow's... gone." Taylor sighed. No, she couldn't keep thinking about that. Move forward. Move forward. Keep moving forward.

Emma's chopped up face flashed in her mind's eye and, right then and there, she almost screamed. But, she couldn't. She couldn't afford to be weak. If she was gonna move forward, then she had to leave the memory of Winslow behind. And, at the end of the day, the people who died would not have mourned her if she'd been killed in their place. So, why should she mourn them, right?

Why should she?

"I'm not too sure about your school documents," Her dad said. Taylor wasn't too sure about those, either. Though, it's entirely possible that a bunch of it survived, seeing as Sukuna did not blow up the school, merely diced it to chunks. But some chunks were bigger than others, especially those farthest away from the locker. Blackwell's office was far enough away that, maybe, just maybe, her school documents survived. Her scores were pretty good. "But I'm sure we'll find a way, okay, kiddo? You leave that up to me. But you have to promise me that you won't quit going to school, alright?"

"Okay, dad," Taylor smiled. "I won't quit."

"Now, how about we start designing a costume for you, eh kiddo?" Her father said. At that, Taylor smiled and nodded.

"Yeah," She said. "I've got a bunch of ideas!"

The second costume would have to be done entirely by her, just to keep her father in the dark about it. It'd also have to be compact and easy to wear, since she wouldn't have a lot of time to change clothes when Sukuna inevitably took over. Something simple.

But first. Her costume idea for the 'Healer' persona was essentially just a large, white, hooded cloak that concealed that'd conceal all of her hair and all of her skin – not a single inch could be shown, nothing that'd offer even the most remote clue as to her true identity. The risks were too high. There were Thinkers out there who could discern information from the most unlikely sources.

In this case, some prudence wasn't going to hurt. Plus, her mom left behind plenty of plain white clothes that could be cut apart to form the base of the costume. Underneath the white coat was a red, long-sleeved shirt, mostly to serve as a pop of color. The mask itself would essentially be a really thin piece of cloth that covered her whole head, thin enough that Taylor could easily see and breathe through it was no complication. Though, a pair of goggles over the eyes would likely be the idea choice, just in case of dust and other stuff. She still had her swimming goggles, right? Those could work. The coat itself wouldn't be too long as it might impede her movement; so, it'd fall down and stop around her hips.

Luckily, she didn't need to make an entirely new pair of pants as her mother already had a pair of baggy, white pants.

And so, they spent the rest of the evening gathering old and unused clothes, dusty sewing kits that haven't been opened in decades, and began sewing – both realizing that they weren't any good at anything sewing-related rather quickly into the activity. Fortunately, her costume wasn't too complicated and some of her mother's clothes were already the right shape and size, needing only minor alterations and the removal of brand logos.

And so, a rudimentary design was spawned before the night ended. It looked... close enough to Taylor's initial design, just covered with a lot more stitches and bits and flaps of cloth that neither her nor her father knew how to deal with. But, all in all, it looked like the costume of a hero – an amateur one, sure. Though, looking at it now, the costume conjured up images of a cape with ice powers as opposed to a healer. But, once she earned some money, Taylor was planning on having one professionally made just for her; maybe she could add that winged scepter thing with snakes around it, just to emphasize her healing ability.

"Huh, well, it doesn't look as bad as I thought it would," Her father said, patting her on the shoulder. They'd spent almost... four hours working on it and Taylor could tell that her old man was already tired and sleepy. Still, Taylor smiled. This was hers. This was her costume. Her father grinned and wiped the sweat from his brows. "It looks pretty good, actually. Though, it'd be awfully hot in that, especially since summer's getting pretty close. But, maybe we can make an alternate coat or something?"

Visible and amateurish stitching aside, her costume did look pretty good. Simple, but good. The hood made it look fearsome, but not so fearsome as to be mistaken for a villain. Attaching the goggles to her mask had taken quite a bit of effort, but, after removing the straps, it became a simple matter of stitching rubber into cloth.

She was also pretty sure that a lot of heroes, who weren't brutes, added some form of protective padding into their costumes, but Taylor didn't have access to that – for now. She had a bunch of ideas, however. Kevlar and bullet-resistant stuff was definitely nowhere near her budget, but padded cloth to stop blunt objects and knives should be pretty easy. If medieval people could do it, then surely she could do it too?

Taylor nodded. "Yeah, but it's fine – for now. We could always get a thinner coat for later."

Her father yawned. "It's getting pretty late. Let's get some shut-eye, kiddo. We'll look this over in the morning."

"Okay, dad." Despite everything, Taylor smiled. She was finally gonna be a hero!

"How many survivors have you interviewed, thus far?" Emily Piggot leaned forward, half-burying her face in her hands. Before her were Armsmaster and Miss Militia, Colin and Hannah, because her request to get Watchdog involved had been denied by the Chief-Director for some reason. She didn't argue much, even if it did leave a bitterness in her tongue.

Colin, who'd removed his helmet, leaned forward. "There were six hundred and fifty-five students who were present in and around Winslow at the time of the incident. Three hundred were killed and two hundred were heavily injured. The injured were distributed to various hospitals. Miss Militia and I, alongside a team of PRT personnel, have interviewed, well, all of the injured survivors and none of them saw anything of value. One moment they were doing something else and, suddenly, the school's collapsing around them."

"So, we got nothing?" Piggot sighed, another headache building up.

"There are still those who weren't injured and chose to go home," Miss Militia said. "We've got a list of their names and addresses, but Colin and I won't be able to personally interview them anymore, not with the Empire and the ABB blaming each other for what happened. There's a war brewing."

"Dragon and I have also... identified something of interest with regards to the incident." Colin added, bringing up a glowing data tablet, which he turned and presented to her. Upon it was a three-dimensional layout of Winslow and about a hundred-thousand lines spread all over it, forming cubes and squares. "As you can see, the slashes at the outermost points of Winslow are far wider than the ones closer to the center, which get smaller and more precise. Most of the survivors were found in the outer peripheries too. So, Dragon and I figured it must've come from somewhere within the school. We built this model and simulated the slashes and there is a 95.46% chance that the origin of the slashes was here."

Colin pointed at a portion of the school that was right at the center, where the slashes were at their closest. "It's the locker room."

And, there, Colin's lips thinned. "Coincidentally, Sophia Hess was standing right in this area when the incident occurred – her and two other students, Emma Barnes and Madison Clements, both deceased."

Piggot nodded. This seemed to be a very interesting and very important tidbit of information, she mused. If this was a Trigger Event, as most of them agreed it to be, then there was a good chance that Sophia Hess, god rest her soul, was involved somehow. Did she make someone trigger or did she just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Was there anyone else there with them?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out, ma'am." Colin admitted.

AN: Chapter 7 is up on (Pat)reon!