𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐃𝐚𝐛𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

23

There was a mirror hanging on the door, and after washing your hands, you dared a glance at yourself. The dress you'd worn to the party had been replaced with a grey t-shirt that hung below your hips and a pair of men's boxers that you prayed were unused.

Your skin was lined with cuts, and bruises peppered the space between them. You quickly looked away from the ones on your thighs, where Zankokus fingers had pressed. Your bottom lip was split and swollen. You didn't look at your arm. If it looked anything like it felt, you'd end up passing out again.

The person you saw in the mirror felt like an entirely different entity. It didn't look like you, didn't feel like you. It looked like someone weak. Someone who had to rely on another person's protection because of their lack of power.

You couldn't look anymore. You needed to go home and deal with everything. Pushing down the lump that had formed in your throat, you twisted the door handle and stepped back into the hallway. Noises were coming from the opposite direction of the bedroom, and you followed them into what looked like the kitchen. In the center of the room, was a round dining table where Dabi stood next to an older man. The doctor, you assumed, was relatively tall, just a few inches shorter than Dabi, whose eyes had landed on you the moment you entered his line of sight. He had a head of dark grey hair that was thinning in the center. His white robe resembled the ones often found in hotel rooms, and he held a mug of hot liquid in his hands.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you aren't dead, dear." The man held up the mug as if to toast to the fact.

You half-shrugged. "Yeah, me too."

"I tried to keep her from walking around," Dabi said, almost sounding like he was asking for the doctor's help. "She doesn't listen."

"You've always been too bossy, boy. If she wants to walk around and potentially hurt herself, more, let her."

You couldn't tell if the doctor was being sarcastic or not, but you chose to disregard it. Looking at Dabi, you said, "Did you get the file?"

"I did."

Good. At least the events of the night hadn't been for nothing. "And were you successful on your end of things?" A slow nod, meaning now you both had the information you needed to continue your hunt for Izanagi. You looked over to the doctor. "I appreciate your help, sir." Then to Dabi, "Let's go."

"Woah, Woah, Woah," the old man set his mug on the table. "I understand your eagerness to leave, but you are not completely healed. The wound in your arm still contains a poisonous substance, and it will continue to spread if you do not let me remove it. I took a sample from you last night and was able to pinpoint the exact type of poison that it is, and I can safely rid you of it."

That was the reason for the pain you'd been experiencing since the attack. You'd figured that was the case. The doctors from your time in the hospital had told you there was a risk that the poison would spread. You'd dismissed their follow-up calls and eventually, they'd given up on having you come in for treatment.

The man continued. "It will likely be a horribly painful procedure, but it should take no less than five minutes."

At least he was honest. You gave a small smile. "I appreciate your willingness to help, but I'll be alright."

Dabi crossed his arms. "You're kidding, right?"

"No. Take me home." You left out the politeness from your tone when talking to him.

"Dear, if you don't have this removed it will kill you," the doctor interjected. "Leaving it untreated will give you another two or three years at best. I won't make you do it, but I encourage you to think about it."