The road to recovery would be long, but Takuma could already tell it wouldn't be boring. He was still getting used to the fact that Mei had actually been serious when she had offered him to stay. It was wild to him that she would just do that, but he wasn't above accepting a freebie when it was offered.
While being left alone in someone else's home was a bit awkward, he could say he had a few ways of earning his keep. He was still moving around like some kind of cheap doll, and the amount of painkiller he ingested on any given day was probably unhealthy. Yet, he couldn't care less because Mei's living room and kitchen were a battlefield of spare parts and tools he barely understood the use of. So, to occupy his time while Mei came and went to school, he started cleaning up the place.
It was slow work since he was still very much in pain. By now, most of his upper body was covered in black, purple, or yellowish spots, making any movement with his left side and back a struggle. He couldn't move the heavier stuff, namely a car engine that was on top of the kitchen table for some unknown reason, but that didn't stop him from filling trash bag after trash bag with spent canisters, broken tools, torn and stained rags. What would have been an hour of work at best had taken him an entire day, with a few pauses in between. He had turned the kitchen and some parts of the living room into a place where someone could actually live without risking stepping into an oil spill or slipping on a grease stain.
The easiest and most time-consuming part of his little cleaning session was arranging the many tools scattered around the room. He had no idea why Mei needed so many wrenches in size thirteen, but next time she needed them, she would find them in a neat little box with a bright red thirteen written on it. There were enough empty toolboxes lying around; he didn't need to look in another room for some empty containers, and he was done with most of what he could realistically do until he was able to carry more than a trash bag without feeling like a muscle was about to tear.
Also, at no point did he find any alcohol, and he wasn't desperate enough to drink hand sanitizer again, so he kept trying to keep his mind off his once-forgotten addiction and onto more important things. Mei had the bright idea of leaving him a tablet to keep up with the news. He wasn't half as thrilled as she was about his little incident with the mutant, and every time he took the time to read the next news cycle, a new little detail popped out to make his existence just that little bit worse. Because it wasn't even about him. A seemingly Quirkless man fighting an Eteromorph three times his size was a nice source of entertainment for the masses. The reason it kept being pushed to the forefront of the news cycle was that there was nothing else to talk about.
In the last four days since the attack, no villains or heroes of note had duked it out in the streets, so this meant every news agency just kept regurgitating the same spiel about the attack and either inventing entire segments of the encounter or digging for any additional information.
So that's how and why his little spat with Mount Lady made the news, and now the H.S.P.C. had just made a statement calling on citizens to not take justice into their own hands, reminding everyone that vigilante charges came with hefty fines and jail time. Somehow, the worst of it came from Shoowaysha Publishing, who came at him with a hitpiece named 'The Symbol of Misogyny'. It painted him in a terrible light, using his attempt at angering the pro hero as a show of character and through him, painting the whole Quirkless community as a bunch of vicious incels. It was strange since he could clearly be heard stating his Quirk to the titanic heroine, so the association didn't make sense. Why did they feel the need to send a few stray shots toward the Quirkless? He didn't know. One thing was for sure, however, the worst of the worst of the internet was now on his side as either a supremacist who showed the mutants their rightful place, a man who had done the job of a female pro hero, which obviously demonstrated women shouldn't be allowed in such a dangerous profession, or finally, a vigilante proving there and then that relaxing the Quirk regulation laws would benefit the most people.
Wherever he looked, he was treated as the worst thing from every community he could be more or less acquainted with. Since nobody knew anything about him besides what he looked like, no one could make anything truly stick. The only positive thing he found in his hours of perverse search around himself came from a video from a cooking club near Tokyo. One of the grandmothers who held classes there had gone on a rant about how inadmissible it was for him to be so thin that his ribs were showing, and was asking her followers to bring him to her so she could feed him. She had taken his state as a spiritual challenge that would not stand on her quest to feed every grandchild she could get a hold of.
It was surprisingly the last one that broke him and sent him into a fit of laughter that was only slightly hysterical. He cried for some reason, which didn't make sense since he was definitely having the time of his life.
At some point, the mind of Mei entered the range of his Quirk, and he had to slap himself on his bruise a few times to regain some composure. He didn't enjoy being in pain, but he couldn't lose his composure in front of the one person who had gone out of her way to help him in recent memory. A place where he could sleep without being assaulted by the rampaging emotions of the nightlife was even rarer than a decent meal to him.
He had time to do a few breathing exercises and wash his face off. The puffy eyes weren't helping, but he hoped he could keep up the illusion well enough to not draw too much attention to his many issues. He settled into an easygoing smile and kept himself occupied by rummaging around the kitchen for something to make. He could probably whip up something with the pork and rice he had lying around.
"I'm back!" she called as she closed the door behind her. "Where did those tools come from, and those boxes, I swear they weren't there when I left."
He shrugged as she took in the now less cluttered living room. "I cleaned the place a bit. I sorted the tools so you can find the one you need easily. I didn't touch anything else, I promise," he told her while placing the rice in the rice cooker and turning it on.
He felt a wave of surprise and gratitude, the latter mixed with a hint of shame. He could understand the feeling, since he was probably the last person she ever met.
"That's fine. Oh wow, did I really have so many wrenches size thirteen?" she said in awe. "What's one more?"
He turned just in time to see her grab a wrench from her school bag and throw it with the others in the toolbox with the bright red thirteen on it.
Immediately, he was assaulted by a wave of anxiety. Meeting her eyes, he noticed she was frowning with a worried look he didn't know what to do with. "Is something wrong?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it. "No, what are we eating tonight?" she tried to deflect, but she was either a terrible liar or was caught off guard by something. He couldn't tell specifically.
"Pork and rice," he told her over his shoulder as he started cooking the meat. "Hope your day's been good."
Behind him, she sat at the now less cluttered table. "It's terrible, they don't even let me bring my tools just because I've made a bomb once. It wasn't even on purpose that time."
"Okay," he deadpanned, wisely refusing to acknowledge what she said. "At least they know who to call if they need something fixed."
A quick look behind him revealed Mei nodding eagerly with her now trademarked manic grin. "That's right! Most of the time it's some boring stuff like tables or chairs. The whole building is getting old, but last month the water heater broke, and they asked me to fix it! Best day ever!"
Even with his mental wall firmly set in place, he couldn't stop some pure, unfettered joy from reaching him. He didn't put up as much of a fight as he usually did; the emotion was benign in terms of what could seep into his mood, so he only put up a token resistance, enough for his own thoughts to not be entirely overwritten.
"That's no small feat. I guess you want to go to an engineering school?" he asked, knowing full well what she had in mind for her future.
The total sum of what he knew about her was that she was going to U.A and she would do something extra-cheeky at the sports festival. Nothing more. It wasn't like what should be the start of the show, in six months' time, where he could remember every little thing of each episode. Hell, he could probably enter Midoriya's home and feel right at home just from the sheer amount of scenes taking place there. It was weird, and even worse was that some random information could appear in his head clear as crystal and be gone the next day. It had been like that his entire life, and it had never made sense to him. He didn't need to know Bakugo got to bed at fucking eight every day. He really didn't need to know.
"Yes! No! Yes, I'm going to U.A., and joining the Support Department," she spoke with an excitement that Takuma by now assumed was her default setting. "They got the latest equipment and some of the best materials the world has to offer, and soon they will be used to make the best babies ever!"
He nodded, listening intently as he made sure not to overcook the meat. He rarely had the opportunity to take the time to cook, and he found himself greatly enjoying it.
"Oh, I got an idea for the power-maul baby I talked to you about. I think I've got just the right power source for a prototype, but I'm gonna need some help with something," she told him with a more reasonable level of excitement in her voice.
He turned toward her, a confused look on his face. "I'm happy to help, but I'm not much of a tech guy. I barely know how to use...pretty much anything, really."
It had taken him an upsetting amount of time to figure out how to even turn the tablet on. He missed buttons. Why does everything need a touch screen these days?
"It's gonna be fine. I just need some measurements for the handle," she hummed. "Be right back. I'm going to change before I get any of these dirty again."
"I'll be done in a minute," he told her, turning off the stove and rice cooker before mixing the two together into a bowl.
Now done, he brought out the plates and cutlery. He made sure to put a kitchen cloth on top of the bowl to keep it warm a little longer.
"I'm done, let's go!" Mei said as she returned from her room.
She was wearing a black tank top and a black coverall tied around her waist. Her hair was now up in a ponytail, and he barely had time to blink before she left through the door that led to the room where she had been when he first woke up. He washed his hands and followed her into a room that could easily be described as a hangar.
Her workshop was close to the door leading to the living room and kitchen, so that's why he hadn't realized the true size of where she worked. It was vast. He could see spare parts, half-built gadgets, and tools lying around. If he thought the living room was bad, then he had just met the elder brother who was dead set on living like a slob.
"Come here!" she called to him with a twinge of impatience. "You can look at my babies later!"
'I'm going to have to get used to her phrasing,' he thought as he walked up to her.
"Alright, this is a memory foam that's going to be the basis for the handle. I need you to grip it as hard as you can!"
"Grip it as hard as I can," he repeated as he flexed his right hand before gripping the handle. "We're lucky I'm not left-handed."
He put all his strength into the foam. He felt it give ground slowly but surely as it molded itself to his hand. It was a strange feeling, like putty that fought back.
"Alright, put it back on the table. I'm going to run some electricity through the foam, so get ready to let go when I tell you."
He followed her command again. He didn't know why she needed to do that, and he knew better than to start asking questions now when she was focused on her task. Takuma watched her haul a large battery, which must have been around twenty kilograms, with surprising ease to the workstation. She connected a few things with pincers to the different bits that stuck out, and she nodded to herself, deep in thought, before grabbing both ends of the newly connected cable. "Let go!"
Her shout was loud but not surprising as he executed her command a heartbeat later. Just in time, it seemed, as the power coursed through the foam and made it expand wildly.
'Please don't explode,' Takuma thought as he braced himself while taking a few steps away for safety.
"It's done!" Mei stated as she stopped running the power through the handle and took a second to appreciate her handiwork.
"Great, now can you explain to me what that was for?" he asked, trying not to rain on her parade.
She smiled widely, and he could feel her joy at his simple question. "This is my new and revolutionary memory foam baby. With it, I can copy to the smallest detail anything put in contact with it. It is so precise it can even recognize a hand through its muscle, bone, and skin."
He blinked, unsure what to make of what she had just told him. "So it's a foam that can store information?"
"Yes!" she shouted. "And coupled with my shock-maul baby and its in-built safety measure, I can now detect if anybody but the owner is holding it and turn the weapon against them!"
She then put a single finger on the weapon, which then proceeded to shock her hand away. "Ow."
"That's not something you see every day," he commented, grabbing the handle. "It really does work."
The hammer was one-handed. It had some reach, a fair bit more than the rusted pipe he had used in his fight a few days ago. It was a bit unwieldy, but not something that would greatly hinder him in a fight. It was a good piece of gear.
"I hope you can reset the imprint for your next customer."
"Nope, it's a one and done!" she informed him with a beaming smile.
He sent her a deadpan look. "I don't have a choice, do I?"
She smiled even more brightly. "Nope," she said again, popping the 'p'.
"Speaking of choice," Takuma said gravely while turning fully toward her. "You need to clean this place."
Her jaw fell slightly, and he could see the gears turning behind her eyes. "Food! We forgot the food," she shouted as she ran out of the room.
The mirth in her voice was refreshing to hear. He was happy she hadn't taken his attempt at dry humor the wrong way.
Takuma watched her leave and took a few seconds to take a good look at the hangar and the many things held within. After a few seconds, he finally voiced his thought. "I'm gonna need a bigger bucket."