Mei slept sixteen hours straight. It was a testament to how exhausted she was that she didn't even try to add a nightly session of baby-making. He was busy pulling more scrap off the death pile when he felt her stir. He wiped himself down with a towel and put on a shirt before exiting the hangar. His work had slowed down quite drastically.
Back in the kitchen, he set a light breakfast on the table and grabbed some chocolate and her meds, laying them down in front of the best available seat for when she emerged from the hallway. He bit into some steamed rice and waited.
The trap was set.
She walked in dressed in an oversized pink hoodie the same color as her hair and sat in the chair he expected her to choose. "Good morning."
"Morning," she mumbled sleepily as she zeroed in on the chocolate bar next to her plate and immediately started to snack on it. "M'la'fo'school."
He shook his head. "Mei, it's Saturday today."
She kept munching on her snack for a while, and he didn't know if she had heard him in her half-awake state. It was the best moment to set his trap off. "Don't forget to take your meds."
He had found the notice for her pills, and he'd learned she needed to take them twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening.
Her eyes slowly focused on the pill next to a full glass of water. He noticed her eyes were also moving in and out of focus slower than what he was used to. She slowly moved her hand to take the pill, raising it to her eyes and carefully watching it before putting it between her lips. She grabbed the glass and drank, swallowing the pill in the process before returning to eating her chocolate bar with a hint of a smile.
'Truly my evil genius knows no bounds,' he chuckled to himself as he realized with relief she wasn't yet awake enough to be angry with him.
His trap of asking her to take her medicine had worked better than he had hoped for. Heroes beware.
Now he could only hope it would be as easy later today when she was more awake.
"What are your plans for today? I'm going to keep working on the death pile unless you need me for something," he told her, probing for some more awareness.
"Baby," she mumbled. "lots'awork."
'Alright, good talk,' he thought with a relieved sigh, accepting the fact it would take her a bit more time to emerge fully from her drowsiness.
They ate in silence, and after making sure she was eating actual food and not only things made out of chocolate, he left to return to his tasks of erasing the stupid pile of scrap, tools, and gear from existence.
He worked at his own pace, moving what he could and pushing around what he couldn't. He was glad for a pair of steel-toed boots he'd found while looking around the hangar. The heavy exoskeleton was not something he would be able to start carrying around for a while. The things were mostly made to help carry load; they ended at the waist, adding extra strength to the legs and joints. The servo-motor could be seen around the knee and hips. He couldn't begin to fathom how they worked, but the steel looked strong, and the design felt like it could work. Mei's parents were experts in making those things, and he could see many prototypes and broken gear with torn legs or crushed parts, which he could imagine happening on a construction site.
Mei's work differed greatly in the sense she was making every kind of gear he could imagine: gloves, pauldrons, a few broken jetpacks, some kind of suit that had poles sticking out of it for some reason. Again, his lack of understanding around the tech she worked with stumped his effort to understand half of the gear he could look at. It was frustrating, since he could understand something amazing happened here, but he was unable to point exactly to what. He watched her work enough times to know she knew her stuff. The passion in itself was magnetic; he enjoyed being around someone who felt positive emotion for a change.
After a few hours of slow and menial work, he was done for the day. Any more, and he would strain his injury, and he wasn't keen on pushing himself after yesterday. He was covered in dust and grime and was feeling downright awful. Seated at her workshop, Mei was working at a more sedated pace. It would take her another day of sleep to be back in full gear; the meds probably helped too. They were the fast-acting kind from what he learned from his short search on the internet.
She was working on a blueprint since she arrived. Whatever she was doing captivated her entire focus, as she barely moved from her seat—a stark difference from how he had ever seen her. She was still fidgeting, tapping her foot or bouncing on the seat following the rhythm of the music that played in her earbud.
Takuma wiped himself down with a towel before making his way to her. Looking over her shoulder, he saw the beginning of the design of a costume. Ideas were strewn around haphazardly on the sheet as she seemingly laid on the paper every idea she could think about before either discarding them or pushing the idea far enough until it took form in one way or another. He took his time to try and follow her train of thought, going from a bulky suit of armor to a more sleek and light costume that offered less protection but allowed a wider range of movement.
His eyes focused on a small drawing of himself she had doodled on the side of the sheet. He realized she was working on his costume, which was still something weird to think about. He never thought he would ever need one; even during his stint in the underground, when he felt the need to be a bit more violent with his approach to problem-solving, he never wore more than a hood over his head. He wasn't a vigilante and certainly didn't think of himself as one. The other alternative for needing a costume never appealed to him either.
He was about to leave Mei to her work when she tilted her head in his direction just enough for her to notice him and jump in fright on her seat with a squeak. One of her earbuds fell from her ear, and an upbeat rock tune made itself known.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said apologetically, making sure to take a step away from her with both palms raised to show her he meant no harm. "I think you're on the right track with the lighter model."
She exhaled before chuckling to herself. "It's fine, I'm not used to having someone around," she told him with a small grin. "The more I think about it, the more I realize armor will do more harm than good; you need something light to not hamper those dodges of yours, and besides the vital organ, I can't seem to find how to add protection that could stop more than a blade."
"Blades are kind of a big deal; most people use them since they can't afford anything better, and outside of outright villainy or organized crime, firearms aren't that common," he recalled from his time on the street. "Knives are problematic since they are everywhere and are easy to train with; a costume made to stop them from being more than a nuisance is probably worth its weight in gold."
She stared at him for a few seconds, and Takuma wondered if he had said too much. His Quirk told him she was surprised more than anything else.
"But in that case, where would you like to be protected the most?"
"The hands," he answered immediately. "Knives and daggers make ninety-nine percent of the blades you can end up against on the street. If you know what you're doing and outside of the more extreme circumstances, a cut to the hand is the most debilitating injury that can happen to you outside of a vital organ or the throat."
"Gauntlet, then," she hummed, a spark in her eyes as a familiar grin bloomed on her face. "It's been a while since I've made some of those."
He expected her to go on a rampage looking for material, but he was surprised to see her stay on task with a renewed bout of energy as she started to draw the beginning of what he assumed would be the first step for a pair of gauntlets. She put back her earbud, and he used that opportunity to leave her and go hit the shower before the stink could cling to his clothes more than necessary.
A while later, after a scalding hot shower, he walked out into the kitchen with fresh clothes, and after checking on Mei with his Quirk, he started making dinner. He could barely call himself a cook, since the entirety of his repertoire started and ended with what was written on the can he opened, but at least it was something. Tonight, it was beans and beef. He was also getting himself ready for his host's reaction when he reminded her to take her meds again. He wasn't betting much on her being as open to the idea as this morning; he had his bag with all that he had to his name set up close to the door just in case he had to make a quick exit.
Takuma had been on the downswing of people's kindness enough times not to let his guard down. Even if Mei had been nothing but nice, he wasn't about to assume he would stay in her good graces forever. It wouldn't be the first time someone suddenly decided to use him for something, to fuck or punch him after a particularly rough day. It was always worse when they knew he was homeless; he was still mad at himself for letting it slip.
The food was cooking nicely on the stove when his host joined him in the kitchen. His mental walls were set, and lacking any strong emotion coming from her, he didn't feel a strain on his mind, which was quite rare for him.
"What's it like to be homeless?" Mei asked him bluntly.
He turned off the stove and turned toward her, leaning on the counter. She had taken a seat at the table and was fiddling with a pen she'd rescued from her workstation.
"It's boring and exhausting," he answered truthfully. He was leaning toward not letting her know too much about his day-to-day experience; it tended to upset some people. "Think of it as a triangle between safe, warm, and fed. Choose two."
"And with your Quirk?"
"In my case, it's more like a square: safe, warm, fed, or sane. Choose two," he chuckled humorlessly. "I've been on the street for a long time, Mei. I know it sounds bad, but I make it work."
He felt a hint of sadness from her, which was better than outright pity.
"Is that why you know how to fight?" she said, moving her hand to rest her chin on it. "And why you know what weapons can be found on the street?"
He could say many things about Mei, one of them being that she certainly had a good head on her shoulders.
"It's something that I've had to learn. I don't usually go around fighting villains, but I know enough to keep myself safe," he told her while setting up the plate. "And it's a good rule of thumb to assume everyone is armed on the street. Knives are easy to carry and conceal; anything bigger, and a hero might take an interest, and that's the last thing a criminal wants."
"But what about villains, then? Shouldn't you need more protection to mitigate their Quirks?"
Takuma remarked it was probably the third time since he met her that he had her undivided attention. "Strong, flashy Quirks usually end up in the hero course; you won't find a villain with the power of Endeavor on the wrong side of the law without a good reason. Most of the villains someone like me can interact with on a daily basis aren't powerful, and even if they are, the likelihood of them being proficient with it is very low. Because if they were, they would be at the top or under direct order from a gang leader. And I do my best to avoid those kinds of people."
"And what happens if you can't avoid them?" she asked innocently enough for him to bite his tongue and stare straight ahead until he could breathe again.
There were some things he was better not thinking about.
"Then you run," he said, his voice more shaky than he would have liked. "And if you can't run, a rusted pipe can do in a pinch."
He could taste blood in his mouth; Mei didn't seem to notice as she seemed to think on his words deep in thought as she kept fiddling with the pen. Her mood didn't make any drastic change, so he poured himself a glass of water and used it to rinse his mouth before dumping the blood-laced water from the glass into the sink. He was glad for his host's tendency to daydream when she was deep in thought.
"So anyway, here's the food; don't forget your meds," Takuma added as if an afterthought after handing her a plate, then pointing toward the bottle of pills.
"Oh, I always forget. Where did you find them?"
"In the first-aid-kit?" he deadpanned.
"Oh, that makes sense," she hummed right before she popped a pill and washed it down with a glass of water. "Thanks."
'Thanks?'
That was it? No anger, no violence, no excuse to mess with him, just... 'Thanks.' he growled internally as she started to eat. He fought back the wave of frustration that overcame him with a deep breath he hid between two bites of food.
'What do you want from me?' he thought as he watched her, wondering when she would pull the rug out from under him. He knew she was preparing something; she had to. No one was as generous as she was without an ulterior motive. He couldn't look into her head; she hadn't yet given him a reason to, but the more time passed, the more he was reconsidering his stance on the situation. Mei wasn't following the rule; she was keeping her scheme close to the chest, and not a single stray thought was there to give him an inkling as to what she wanted. 'Just get on with it, please,' he begged mentally as he glared at his very distracted host. He hid his shaking hand under the table as he pretended to brush something off his clothes. The unknown was always the worst he could encounter.