Chapter Thirty-Two.

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—First Person POV.—

Preparations have been made— I'm lying on my back on the dust-sheeted sofa, pressing a lukewarm bottle of Dasani against my forehead.

My eyes are shut. The world feels a whole lot nicer in the dark.

Aizawa tried canceling the curse again, I'm not sure how, but the pain in my side lessened and stopped trying to reach up into my ribcage.

The pain in my head was reduced to a moderate throb, but it still sucks. Aizawa seemed worried, and disappointed with the results— And I didn't bother questioning how he even is here in the first place.

I'm remembering the words of the ghost: That my mind would bleed out my ears or something. I hope that wasn't literal.

My mom sits on the couch near my feet. Her hand is on my shin and she's rubbing it absently. She still wants to run.

Every one of her mom-instincts says to swaddle me up and take off— But she's not just any mom.

She's my mom.

So she sits, and gets ready to fight alongside "I'm sorry about your fox." I apologize in a somber tone "He was our fox." She corrects before her voice quiets to a whisper "I'm sorry too."

"He tried to warn us.." I breathe "I should have listened to the little hairball." I put down the water bottle.

"I really am sorry, Mom. I'm going to miss him." She nods "..I want you to go upstairs before anything starts." I command.

She nods again. She knows I can't focus if I'm worried about her "Why didn't you tell me?" She asks "That you were searching him out all these years? That you were planning to go after him?"

"I didn't want you to worry." I admit. I feel sort of stupid.

"See how well it all turned out?" She brushes my hair out of my eyes, and then pauses, a concerned tension comes into her face and she leans in to look at me closer.

"What?" I raise an eyebrow in questioning.

"Your eyes are yellow." I think she's going to cry again.

From the open kitchen, I hear Aizawa swear for the hundredth time tonight "It's your liver." My mom says softly "And maybe your kidneys— They're failing."

Well, that explains the liquefying feeling in my side. We're alone in the living room. Everyone else has sort of scattered off to their respective corners, I suppose everyone's doing some thinking, maybe saying some prayers.

Hopefully Denki and Jirou are confessing in a closet.

Outside, a flash of electricity catches my eye.

"Isn't it a little late in the season for lightning." I wonder aloud.

Aizawa answers from where he's hovering in the door of the kitchen "It isn't just lightning. I think our boy is working up some energy."

"We should start the plan then." My mom suggests.

"I'll go find Jirou." I heave myself off of the sofa and make my way upstairs quietly. At the top, Denki's voice is coming from inside one of the old guest rooms.

"You're not. You won't. Nothing's going to happen to you, Jirou." Their voices drop lower— I feel like some pervert eavesdropper.

I'm not going to interrupt them. Might as well let Denki and Jirou have this moment— So I back softly down the stairs and head outside.

I wonder what things will be like after this is over. Assuming we all make it through, what's going to happen?

Will everything go back to the way it was? Will Denki eventually forget about this adventurous time with us? Will he ignore Jirou and go back to being the center of school?

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