Unknown lay on a simple, neatly-made bed in a small white room.
The bed spanned most of the length of the wall, a small nightstand standing next to it. The bed lay in one corner across from a white desk and a matching chair on the other side of the room. The room was mostly empty, and the few pieces of furniture it held, notably, were all bolted to the ground. A door stood next to the desk, leading into a tiny, plain bathroom, and there was a small tinted window across from the bed, on the same wall as the door. She didn't know where it led, but she guessed it was most likely an observation room of sorts. Above the window, mounted in the upper corner of the room, was a black security camera, its blinking red light indicating someone was watching. Unknown wore a plain white shirt and long white pants, both hospital-issued. Her eyes were cast towards the ceiling, blankly watching the plain, smooth patch of nothing.
A few days had passed since the incident at UA, a few days since her year-long mission came to a close. She couldn't tell exactly how much time had passed, and she supposed it wasn't too important. There was nothing much for her to do but wait.
She hadn't seen anyone aside from doctors and nurses since Aizawa and the police chief left. Even so, she could guess what the situation was: the police didn't know what to do with her. It was possible they might keep her here for a while, or maybe move her to another hospital. It was possible they might release her eventually, but it was also possible they might send her to rot in a cell for the rest of her life. She didn't know what they were leaning towards, or even if they had started deliberating at all. She supposed that wasn't too important either; there was nothing she could do about it anymore.
She shifted to lay on her side, the handcuffs around her left wrist rattling as she closed her eyes. Both ends of the handcuffs were secured to the same arm, as it was now only meant to suppress her quirk, not her movements. Her right wrist was still wrapped in bandages, though it had healed quite a bit in the past few days, the pain no longer enough to bother her. The bruises on her neck were gone, along with the minor scrapes and cuts scattered around her body; the wound on the back of her head was also mostly healed and no longer required bandages, though it still ached a bit from time to time.
The mattress below her was mostly soft and comfortable enough; the white sheets were fairly thin, suitable for the small, well-heated room. She pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, as although she wasn't quite tired, she also had nothing better to do. Sleep was an easy pastime, she found, much more interesting than the miscellaneous books and mundane games they had provided her with. Because of this, her sleeping pattern had been erratic ever since she entered the hospital: a few hours at a time, scattered roughly evenly throughout the day. It did nothing for her sense of time, as she often remained oblivious and indifferent to exactly how long she had been awake or asleep. It was rather strange to have nothing to do: no training, no missions, no orders to follow. She wondered how long it would be like this, what she might do if she was ever released. It had only been a few days, but she was beginning to miss the outside world. The bright white fluorescent glow had grown tiresome.
A faint humming drifted from the panel lights overhead, barely warding off the deep silence as Unknown drifted slowly to sleep.
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Dreams are a strange thing, aren't they? Where does the mind get those images from? Places, people, events often made up completely by one's subconscious: scenes of fantasy, horror, or simply mundane, everyday activities played out in the resting mind.
Have you ever suddenly realized you were dreaming? Most often it's a faint, passing feeling, some innate recognition that something's off, but sometimes the thought hits you full-on, and in a moment, you instantly recognize the un-reality of everything you see. If it occurs in a thrilling, pleasant dream, you might get a sinking feeling when you realize it will eventually have to come to an end, if it occurs during a nightmare, you might feel the fear recede abruptly because nothing there can really hurt you, but have you ever had such a realization during an ordinary, mundane dream? Perhaps you're walking down the street, taking a path you always take, perhaps you're speaking to a friend you had been meaning to catch up with, a scene where nothing is out of the ordinary.
Unknown frequently had these unremarkable kinds of dreams, and she had never been able to identify them as unreal until after waking up. These past few days, however, she had the realization for the first time. She dreamt she was back home with Amnestica, Horus, Traceback, and the Manager was there as well. They were all gathered downstairs, sitting around the living room, laughing and talking about something. She couldn't recall what it was exactly. Unknown was listening quietly as she often did, simply nodding along with what they were saying, when all of a sudden, she understood.
This couldn't be real because it was over. The Manager had been captured, he was no longer free to do as he pleased, and the others were safe from his kind, caring facade.
She no longer had to worry about him; she no longer had to worry about anything. Because there was nothing more she needed to do.
This was really it, huh?
_______________________________________________
The days passed slowly for Unknown, each one the same monotonous routine as the last. She woke up to the lights on, then idly spent a few hours lying down or shifting about the room. She would pass the abundant free time in any way she could, only able to vaguely track the passage of time through the on-off cycle of the overhead lights. They remained on during the day and turned off at night; it was controlled from the outside and there was no light switch within the room. The only light she could control was a single, lonely fixture inside the bathroom.
Unknown would most often sleep when she became bored, and considering her periodic meals were brought to her by the nurses, she spent her days fully inside the small room. A psychiatrist would occasionally come to visit her: a nice lady who she assumed was working for the police, always asking about her childhood or her feelings towards the Manager or her relationship with the other members. Unknown always answered whatever questions she asked- there was no reason to lie anyway. Men in suits would also sometimes come to speak to her; she assumed they worked for the police too. They asked for details about her time after returning to Sacrosanct, wanting to know exactly what she did, where she was, who she was with, how long she was there, and every other detail they could think of. She answered all their questions too, though they were a bit repetitive sometimes.
Within these walls, they mostly let her do as she pleased. Aside from the occasional police visitor, there was no schedule to follow, no tasks she had to complete, no one she had to please. She couldn't tell if it was boring or a relief, or perhaps a bit of both.
_______________________________________________
Sometimes Unknown woke up to find herself crying.
It was strange; nothing like it had ever happened before. She could never recall any reason as to why she would be crying: it wasn't as if she often had unpleasant dreams, and there was no waking reason for it either.
Perhaps she had dreams she couldn't recall? Maybe the room was too dry? She wasn't sure, but it was certainly odd.
_______________________________________________
A knocking at the door pulled her from her light slumber. She groaned and shifted onto her side, turning her eyes away from the bright lights overhead. She didn't know why the nurses bothered knocking: it wasn't as if the camera was ever off, she was certain they could see what she was doing at all times. They never waited for her to answer either, as she didn't need to open her mouth before she heard the door push open and a woman call out to her.
"You have a visitor," she announced softly, peering past the door and towards the outline of Unknown sprawled on the bed.
"Yea, yea, just send them in," she groaned, yawning as she sat up and pushed the sheets aside. The psychiatrist had last come not long ago-yesterday, or was it the day before? Regardless, that meant it must be the policemen again. She sighed sleepily. She found them to be quite boring, too serious for her liking.
She yawned again as she heard the woman step back from the doorway to speak to whoever was outside. Another voice answered quietly before a few soft footsteps entered the room, followed by the click of the door shutting behind them.
Unknown rubbed her eyes, giving them a moment to adjust to the room's light.
"Do you not have enough information yet? I don't know how much more I can tell you," she stretched her arms above her head with a satisfying pop, sighing as they dropped back to her sides. "By the way, what time is it?"
"It's around three in the afternoon. I'm not certain of the exact time; they took my phone."
Unknown paused.
That voice didn't belong to any of the policemen she had spoken to before. It was, however, a different kind of familiar.
She turned to face the visitor, blinking away the slight fogginess from her vision, and an amused smile spread on her lips.
"Well color me surprised," she tilted her head lazily, curious black eyes scanning the figure up and down. "I have to say, out of all the people I thought might come, you weren't one of them."
Todoroki remained silent as he stood in front of the door, donning a navy wool coat and a black scarf. His split-toned hair fell neatly in place as it always did, and he wore a familiarly passive expression. His mismatched eyes examined her carefully before shifting to scan the interior of the room.
"Well, whatever it is you're here for, it's a waste of time. Do yourself a favor and get going," she dismissed, running a hand through her disheveled hair as she turned to settle her legs over the side of the bed.
Todoroki remained quiet for a moment, eyes carefully taking in her appearance.
"I have a question to ask you."
"I've heard that before..." she muttered, palms pressing down on the side of the mattress as she leaned forward languidly. She nodded towards the chair across from her, "I suppose it must be important if you came all this way."
Todoroki unwrapped his scarf as he stepped over to the desk, setting it down on the plain white surface before slowly taking a seat. His eyes returned to her slouched figure, watching carefully as she rhythmically swung her legs, head tilted slightly to one side.
"How have you been?" he asked evenly, her eyes flicking up to meet his own.
"Oh, don't look so stiff, Todoroki," she grinned halfheartedly, an amused shine in her gaze. She glanced towards the tinted window and the security camera on the wall across from them. "There have been at least five pairs of eyes on me since you walked in, just in case I suddenly try to maul you or something," she scoffed, leaning back on her palms. "And besides, does it really look like I can win a fight against you right now?" she smiled, jostling the quirk-cancelling handcuffs around her wrist.
"If you wanted to hurt me, you wouldn't have needed to wait until now," he stated plainly, sliding off his coat and placing it over the backrest.
"Smart as always, I see. Now what do you want?"
"There's something I've been wondering about. I was hoping you could answer a question."
"Ask away."
"Why did you decide to go to the police when you did?"
"Hm? Is it not enough for me to want my own freedom?"
"I don't believe that's why you did it."
"Why not?"
"If you wanted freedom, you could have run away at any time. Instead, you put a significant amount of time and energy into making sure they were arrested. Why?"
Unknown blinked passively, staring carefully at him for a moment. She searched his mismatched gaze, his ever-stoic expression the same as she remembered.
"Why do you want to know?" she asked flatly. The playful edge to her tone was duller now.
"I believe it's important," he answered without pause.
"Important... it's not nearly as important as you think."
"Even so, I'd like to hear your answer."
Unknown fell silent for a moment, casting her gaze off to the side, raised to focus on nothing in particular. Todoroki watched quietly as the gears turned in her mind. Finally, after a long pause, she spoke.
"It's not the most pleasant story," she warned halfheartedly.
"I didn't think it would be."
"...well, since you're so curious. You saw it, didn't you? The picture in my phone case?"
Todoroki blinked; had he seen such a thing? He racked his mind, trying to identify when he could have seen something like that, when it suddenly clicked.
That's right.
Near the beginning of the school year, she had forgotten her phone once. In the back of the case was a small built-in slot; he hadn't meant to look, but it had opened on its own while he was on his way to return it to her.
...
It was a small polaroid-type print with slightly worn edges. The picture showed a group of six: a dark-haired man stood on the left, he and a small blonde girl both grinned at the camera, then two redheads- a boy and a girl- near the right side, both smiling softly, then a girl who looked to be the youngest of the group, standing up front and beaming a bright, closed-eyed smile. The last one pictured was Naoko, standing diagonally behind the smallest girl.
...
He didn't know them back then, but now he recognized them as clear as day. The Manager, Amnestica, Horus, Traceback, and...
"Who was the last girl?"
A shallow sigh escaped her lips. "She didn't have a name. Not that I knew of, anyway," she stated casually, though there was a certain unsteadiness to her voice. "The Manager didn't give us names until he decided we were worth keeping. She had a healing quirk- I don't know exactly how it worked, but... well, when the Manager got angry with us, he would make us train, sometimes for days on end. I always get this... headache when I overuse my quirk, and," she paused, lips pressing into a thin line, "he was really angry that day."
...
Unknown cried out in agony as she dropped to the ground, hands clutched tightly around her head. She collapsed onto her side, knees curling to her chest as another wave of blinding pain tore through her skull. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, the thin red trail emerging to mix with the sweat and dirt caked on her skin. Her legs blossomed with nothing but bitter, excruciating pain, her ragged gasps desperately pulling air into her burning lungs. Her body was cut all over, slashes littering her clothing and skin, trails of red leaking from her exposed arms and legs to streak down over patches of dried blood. She was strikingly pale, her lips drained of color and cracked harshly in the dry air. She could no longer feel any of it, however: not the dirt pressing against her open cuts, not the jagged stones and roots of the forest floor digging into her side, not the searing agony in her legs from hours of forced training. All she could feel was the white-hot pain shooting through her mind, as if someone had poured acid into her eyes, as if someone was tearing open her skull.
"...get up... before... he sees," Horus whispered between heavy pants, bracing himself on a nearby tree as his legs threatened to give out under him. He was in no better condition; black and purple bruises littered his arms and legs, a dull pain on the side of his head where it had struck the ground earlier, his hand trembling as it barely kept hold of the small blade in his palm. His shirt was utterly drenched in sweat despite the cool late-autumn air. His eyes darted to the house overlooking them a distance away, messily dragging the sweat from his brow before once again urging Unknown to stand up.
She couldn't hear his hurried pleas, however, writhing in blind agony as she bit down on her arm to keep from screaming, desperately dragging her head across the rough dirt, burning tears streaming freely down her face as her knuckles drained white with how hard she was gripping her own head. It felt as if her skull was a mere second away from splitting open.
She couldn't think.
She couldn't breathe.
Horus didn't dare move closer, chest heaving with each desperate breath. Even in his beaten, battered, half-conscious state, he knew he couldn't help her. If he was caught, the consequences would be much worse.
From a distance away, Amnestica and Traceback, both in similarly fatigued states, hardly standing as they continued to exchange powerless blows, glanced over to Unknown with fearful concern etched into their features.
A young girl with white-green hair sat quietly against the front door of the house. From a distance, she watched with round brown eyes as Unknown writhed in anguish, clawing against her tangled, disheveled hair as broken sobs escaped her cracked lips. The girl glanced back at the house for a moment before climbing to her feet, quietly padding through the trees. She made her way towards the others as carefully as she could, only stopping once she reached Unknown's tormented form. She knelt down next to her and quietly placed both hands on the older girl's dirt-stained cheeks.
In an instant, Unknown stopped thrashing. Her eyes, once squeezed tightly, suddenly relaxed. They slowly drifted open, the tears having left a puffy redness behind, as her blurry vision unconsciously trailed upwards.
The young girl smiled as she met her gaze. She moved her tiny hands to grasp the older girl's for a brief moment, squeezing it softly before shuffling to her feet and quickly dashing back towards the house.
Unknown's foggy stare trailed after her. She shifted her legs experimentally, the sharp burning still there, but bearable. Slowly, she pushed herself up from the ground. One hand drifted up to touch the side of her head as she blinked the wetness from her eyes.
The pain was gone.
...
"She was only around for a few weeks. I don't think her quirk could heal physical injuries, rather it seemed to take away a person's sense of pain for a bit. But it wasn't good enough for the Manager."
"What happened to her?" Todoroki asked quietly.
"I don't know. We were never allowed to speak about the ones that disappeared."
"There were others?"
"Plenty."
"Do you know if they were ever identified?"
Unknown scoffed, her gaze hardening as she turned away. "I doubt he ever left a body that could be identified, and even if he did, it wouldn't have mattered. The types of kids he takes... no one looks for them."
A dour silence fell over the small room, both of their gazes cast low and glum. The only sound between them was a faint humming drifting in through the walls from somewhere unseen.
"Told you it wasn't a pleasant story," Unknown shrugged, propping her elbows atop her knees and shifting to rest her chin in her hands.
"So you turned on Sacrosanct because of her?"
"I turned on the Manager. Everything was because of him, and I want him to rot for what he did."
"You must have cared deeply for her."
"Hm? Not really," she breathed casually, "How much can you care for someone you only knew for a few weeks? It's not like that was the only time we were forced to train- the same thing happened every so often. It would've been a lot easier to deal with if she was around, that's all."
"I don't believe that's true."
"You have a lot of beliefs, huh?" she raised an eyebrow. He was about to open his mouth once more before she cut him off. "Well, you have your answer now, and I'm getting a bit tired. You should get going, don't you think?"
Todoroki hesitated for a moment. He seemed to have something more to say, but nodded regardless. He slowly rose to his feet, picking up his scarf and laying his coat over his arm.
"Thank you for speaking with me; please take care of yourself."
The door opened softly as the nurse stepped aside to let him out. Once he passed through the white frame, it fell closed behind him once again.