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May's blood roared in her ears as loud as one thousand sirens. Heat rushed through her veins, and she swung her arms backward, grappling at whoever had her by her hair. She twisted and tried to free herself from the tight hold. Her skull was on fire.
Get out, leave—run, stomp—fight? Fight!
Fragmented thoughts lit up her brain like forks of lightning. She had no formal training. Her mind was running wild with blankness and animalistic defense. With every move she would make, every step forward, every turn—her attacker was one step ahead.
May opened her mouth to scream, but the shock had momentarily stolen her voice. Before any sound could leave, a hand clamped itself over her mouth.
Pain! Cause pain! If I could—just get—that pinky! I—could dislocate it!
Her nails dug into the hand's flesh. May raked at one of the fingers, trying to bend it with all the force she could. Anything her bony fingers could clasp, she wrestled with. Her breathing was focused through her nose, heavy and forced.
It didn't matter what she did, the blanket of darkness wrapped itself around her and dragged her further into the black alley. May hoped to hear that sickening crack of her attacker's finger. Before long, a crinkle from his spasming hand rippled underneath her own fingers. It worked.
The assailant let go with a yelp and shoved her away from him. The force caused May to launch forward onto the ground below.
An opportunity. Go!
Her eyes widened, and she clawed at the alley floor, dirt caking itself underneath her fingernails. The scrapes on her legs sizzled in pain. She broke out into a wobbling sprint toward the only source of light. Her head twisted to peer over her shoulder.
May was wholly occupied with searching behind her. Frantic and unable to focus on the next step. What was next? Run and find help? No—
The same hand seized her bicep, and then another tightened around her wrist. She tumbled backward; a breath was sucked into her dry throat. Everything was blurry, and streaks of golden light from the street cast a scant sheen on to her nightmare.
She struggled against her attacker's hold, using her free hand to attempt an escape for the second time. May whipped her head upward to face them. Empty white eyes and a black mask stared back at her.
"Stop struggling," a frustrated voice pleaded. "Or don't. Your choice!"
May didn't stop. Her legs extended forward, stomping and kicking in a wild dance of distress. With a spark of anger and spirit rising in her throat, she opened her mouth to say something.
The air was snatched from her lungs. The attacker shifted and swung his body. They pivoted together, and May was thrown against the nearest wall. The back of her head lit up in agonizing pain, colorful stars exploding in her vision. Her legs crumpled to the floor on impact.
She blinked a couple of times; the world around her was swimming in slow motion. Her back screamed as she struggled to catch a breath.
Get up! Get up—you have to move!
She put a hand to the back of her head, throbbing, and jerked it away. No blood, but her stomach heaved from the force of her collision with the wall. Her body wouldn't do what she wanted it to. It wouldn't move fast enough. Her pale hands were now doubles of each other.
Her ears echoed with a high-pitched ringing. She swayed to her feet, only to feel pressure across her chest. An arm pinned her to the wall and kept her from fleeing. Her timeline was scrambled. Nothing was happening in the right order. May stared ahead at two white eyes that were starting to look more like four.
"Listen to me, we don't have much time. All the time in the world, actually!" the male voice said. "I know who you are, Dr. Kataoka."
May strained to keep her focus. Her hands curled into fists at her side, scratching against her thighs. His mask swirled like a black and grey thunderhead. Her fuzzy brain tried to make any connections to his voice, but she had nothing.
Half of her mind had told her to raise her fists and attempt to wriggle out of his hold. Weakness snaked itself all over her body, constricting and hissing in her ear. May tried to steady her legs underneath her, but they continued to shake. Her eyes wandered away, searching for an opening, scanning for anything at all, maybe a civilian, someone—
Her cheeks were squished and forced forward to look at him.
"I—I said listen, damn it!" Frustration oozed from his tone, and he muttered something else unintelligible. "You're a doctor, and doctors help people. Help is a strong word. And you're going to help me."
"Help you?" May asked, her voice calm in comparison to his.
"Easy, right? Not a very intense request if you ask me! I'm a lost cause." His demeanor instantaneously changed. He was less animated and more despondent.
They? What the hell is he on about? Why does he keep contradicting himself?
May's voice snagged on panic. "I—I don't understand! Let go of me, I— I can't help you—I won't!"
"But—stop! Yes, you can! No, you can't. You're the only one that—that can!" The man released his arm from her chest and instead gripped both of her shoulders. May cowered under his hold.
"The quirk databases are limited and I... I've tried others, and they weren't a good fit."
Her quirk was public? What did that mean? He could just search for it? Had he talked to others with a healing quirk?
Okay, he's searched for me. I don't think he'll try to harm me further. Is that it? If I didn't fight, it would've gone different—okay. No time for that. Whatever he needs... I don't think I can do it.
There were others, though. May's mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion. Did they refuse? And if they did, were they still alive?
His voice, there's something hidden. Maybe if I appeal, maybe if I do something, he'll let me go.
"Whatever you need, I don't think I can—I can give it to you. Please, just let me go," May pleaded, attempting to spark some sympathy. Something, anything. He appeared to be human.
At least, she hoped.
"No! No! You don't understand—you..."
The man let out a frustrated yell, causing May to flinch. He lifted one of the hands from her shoulder.
He gripped his black mask, and his fingers shook as he went to tear it off.
Where did she know that face?
It was the man she bumped into on the street. His shaggy blonde hair was ruffled by the mask. A long line of silver stitches ran down his forehead. When May imagined the face of evil, she didn't expect to see such tired eyes. Shadows danced across his features, his cheeks sallow and skeletal.
"I can clone myself with my quirk. It's more duplication. Don't you think? Urgh!" The man slammed his free hand onto his forehead, wincing at the changes. "I... I messed up, and now I—I'm splitting—We're splitting—apart. And you're going to fix it. Don't fix it, I'm fine! Stop!"
May's fingers dug into the wall, her nails beginning to split from the force. His eyes had a wild look of desperation, full and white against the alleyway void. Then, he held tighter on to her shoulders.
"You can fix it—I know your quirk it's listed under Blood Transfusion. If you can do that, you can fix it. It's unfixable at this point. No, you can bridge it, make me whole without this mask. You're not whole without it, anyway. Please, stop!"
He was hurting. His movements were erratic, and his voice would change, shifting into different tones and continuously contradicting himself. May could see it in the way he stood— hunched and small. With every word he said, his eyes would dart back and forth like he was searching the empty air for something.
May tilted her head, trying to hide the fear welling up inside her throat. If she refused, it would take one stab, and she would be left to die alone in the grungy alley. He wouldn't kill her—would he? She was convincing herself further into a perilous train of ideations. Clouds shrouded any stars, and moonlight was chained behind the black sky.
I can't... I can't do it—I don't know. I—Do I even have a choice?
"I can't help you." May fought through tears, her throat burning, and her voice barely a whisper. The statement slipped out between her fractured internal monologue.
"Fine, I didn't want to have to do this, but you've left me without a choice. You always have a choice. Fuck, shut up! Just—hold on."
The man used his one free hand and stretched it over his face again. May watched as his posture visibly relaxed. Then, he rummaged around in his pockets. She couldn't find words. Each sharp breath she drew in felt like a knife twisting into her back.
The man pulled his hand out, gripping several small square objects. "I need your help, and they need you to be cooperative, you see?"
The small square images floated in front of May's face. A printed image of—
Sara?
Her heart stopped. A heavy silence filled the air around her.
There she was, the picture of her smiling friend. Sara's pink hair clouded around her head, and she was wearing a white lab coat. May's blood ran cold. It was her company picture.
How did he get that? How does he know her?
Too many questions rang around in May's head for her to open her mouth and vomit words. Her eyes were so wide that they threatened to fall out of the sockets. Red hotness scorched her throat, boiling over into piping anger. The darkness settling in her stomach morphed into mind-numbing fear.
"Kajiyama, is it? She's got a really nice family. Not really, it's kinda boring. I have them all in my pockets here somewhere. Let's see—" The man pulled out several other pictures.
"We've got Kaito Kajiyama... he's really doing well apparently, isn't he? Slacker. And we can't forget about the two little ones. Then we have—Mrs. And Mr. Kataoka, of course, they're on the list too. Oh! Can't forget about that feisty business lady—Eiko Tokoro. She—"
May couldn't feel her trembling legs.
Was he there the whole time? Was he always watching? Was he waiting?
While Sara's two sons happily played with her glasses and May had smiled without a care, was he in the background?
She fought the urge to claw her throat, her breaths were more hitched, and her chest heavier. How could she not notice? How could she—
Stop it, May. Her rational side rose among the fray, standing on top of her chaotic reeling thoughts. I have to do what he says, or he might fly off the handle— he knows all of the people closest to me. There's... There's nothing I can do except— do what he says.
May's shoulders fell, but she pulled her lips tight. The photographs in the man's hands fluttered down to the concrete ground. Grey dust dirtied the faces of every person in her heart.
"Okay. How—How can I help you?" May's voice broke the silence. Her words exited her lips with a struggle. Regret laced itself into her question.
"Perfect! I knew that would work. No, I didn't," the man said and released his grip on her shoulder. May didn't move. "Fix it. That's all I want. I can't exactly walk into a clinic being a wanted criminal and all."
The man reached into his navy-blue coat, which May hadn't noticed until then, pulling out a pouch and a file. He tossed it to the floor and used his foot to slide it closer to her. "Everything you need is in there to figure something out."
"I—I don't understand. How am I supposed to just figure it out—"
"Your guess is as good as mine. Probably better," the man interrupted, shrugging his shoulders. "It's full of my medical records and a blood sample. I—I tried to cater it to you somehow. I don't know much."
A flash of softness in his voice slapped May across her face. The entire encounter felt more like a fever dream.
"I'll need to do a full examination at some point," May said her thoughts out loud. Anything she said was a feeble attempt to piece something coherent together. "I can't—I can't help you by reading a piece of paper."
"I'm running out of time, but there's a phone in there. Maybe there isn't, I don't know! And that's how we'll keep in contact. You'll find me under Twice." He put his hands in his pockets.
There was another silence. May's hands hovered over her stomach as she started to kneel over. The pictures were the only thing on her mind as their smiles beamed up at her from the ground. Her mouth gaped at the sight of her happy friends and parents.
"I've gotta go," Twice said, his voice as normal as it could've been. "Sorry about all the pain, Doctor. You're lucky I'm the first one that's come to you for help. Luck isn't really synonymous with you, is it?"
May's knees gave way underneath her.
"Thanks for your cooperation. Be careful out there— it's late."
His footsteps faded from her ringing ears. She was on all fours, staring at the ground in front of her. Underneath her left hand, paper crunched. May lifted her head, only to see a picture of Sara's sons from behind. They were walking away.
The picture crunched underneath her hands. She exhaled through her teeth, a small cry joining the harsh breath.
She had to go.
She had to get out of there.
May scraped the pictures together off of the ground. Stifling panicked sobs that wormed themselves out of her throat shattered the quietness of the alley. Her hands struggled to hold them still, and with each movement, her arms burned and ached with pain.
She collected the file and drawstring pouch into her arms. Her phone was thrown against the wall at the end of the alleyway, as was her purse. May hurried and scooped everything up without thinking twice. Bundling everything together, she managed to fit it all in her bag.
The spidery crack in the corner of her phone didn't faze her.
May started walking away from the alley. Insects buzzed under the lamplight, neon signs guiding her down the street. The dark night gave her nothing to hold on to. Red light shone against the concrete sidewalk in a diagonal slice. She paused, taking a deep breath.
What was that? What did she hear?
A person? Coming close behind her?
Someone new?
May whirled around, seeing no one behind her. She faced forward again and started walking.
Walking faster. And faster. And faster and faster and faster.
Monsters in the form of trash bags threatened to steal her away into the night. Every corner she turned became a risk. Every silhouette was a menace. Horned devils with forked tongues danced in shadowy forms and outlined any inanimate object that laid ahead of her. Their long talons grappled at her heels, just out of reach.
She didn't dare look behind her. If she slowed down, someone would be quick to pounce. The devils would sink their fangs into her ankles. And if no one got her, she would be sucked into the pavement. Concrete would shove itself down her throat and suffocate her.
May was striding down the street, racing through the starless night. She chased the light. Neon signs, street lamps, storefronts, anything she could find. Her body would shift directions, so May wouldn't be without it. Every footstep touched the light source, bounding on like stepping stones along an asphalt river.
If she could outrun the panic rising inside her, maybe it wouldn't be real. Perhaps it was a dream. An awful dream. Her arms pumped, the heaviness of her bag and her head not deterring her. It wasn't real. None of it was real. She'd wake up at any point.
And it would be all over.
The buildings hulked like industrial beasts, growling as they swayed in the wind. The windows were a thousand eyes boring into May. If she stopped, they'd arch around the sky and trap her too. Nothing was safe, nothing would be safe.
May's apartment was close. A lighthouse among churning seas. She grappled for her keys in her bag, her fingers sliding over the sharp corners of the small photographs, and she gained paper cuts.
Her knees felt a little weak when her hands wrapped around the cold steel of the entrance handle. But she still had to get to her apartment. She took the stairs, looking up and down. Back and forth. It was a blur of beige, the exit signs burning holes in her memory.
Her whole body pushed against her door, and she stumbled inside.
She slammed the door shut, using every deadbolt, every lock she possibly could. Then, she rounded her apartment. Every light was on, even the backsplash lights to her kitchen. She drew her curtains.
The dead plant's leaves peeked out from behind the satin curtains. Other wilted leaves collected below the window on the floor, neglected and left to pile up.
May put her purse down on her kitchen counter. She kept a dead stare on her wooden kitchen table, which was littered with reference books and medical resources, and approached it.
She sent it all over the edge, sweeping her arm across the table with a yell.
Her head pounded, the pain from her injuries coming back with a vengeance. May rubbed a hand down her face, balling up her fists and screwing them into her eyes. Then she fell to her knees and let the cold tile ease her scraped knees.
Stars exploded like fireworks in her vision as she attempted to rub away any escaped tears. After several minutes, she got to her feet again and shuffled toward her bathroom. She ignored the buzzing of her phone.
May took off her shirt, inspecting any damage in her mirror. She noticed the darkening marks around her bicep and her wrist. I think they'll be a semi-light purple. Maybe I can use makeup or something.
But when she turned around to see her back, it was a different story. There were patches of darkening colors along her back and toward her neck. She pressed a hand on her right shoulder blade, wincing immediately, and removing it.
Then, she stared at herself again. As she always did.
She watched her lip quiver in the mirror, swallowing down every pebble of fear and resentment toward herself. Maybe if she didn't accept the job, she wouldn't be stuck helping a wanted criminal. Maybe if she would've been more aware, maybe she wouldn't have been blindsided so easily.
Maybe if she were stronger, she could've done something.
The boulder of emotion in her stomach was building into a mountain. No, it was becoming a volcano. A fiery, explosive, magma filled and ready for a furious eruption. She felt her eyebrows furrow, her chest heaving against her fight. Slowly, May blanked out her face. Paper white with no ink scrawls of torrential emotions tarnishing her facial features.
Just leave it. You have things to do.
So, she did. After a lengthy shower, she didn't look at her reflection for long. But she did tie her hair in a bun instead of a ponytail. Throwing in a couple of painkillers helped ease her physical pain. It did nothing for her racing thoughts. She wasn't supposed to take anything, but she had to. Her back was crying out, prickles of needle-like reminders of what had occurred.
May finally reached into her purse after several hours of ignoring it. She avoided the pictures and instead wrapped her fingers around her phone. A crack created a million reflections in the left corner of her phone.
It still worked though, the blue light shining on to her face.
>> (8) NEW MESSAGES <<
- Sara & Eiko (3)
- Unknown (Maybe: Midnight) (2)
- Toshinori (2)
- Aizawa (1)
>> <<
May rubbed circles into the side of her cheeks.
>> <<
SARA & EIKO
Sara
➞ Thanks for meeting with us, May. We all love you so much. We'll call you when we get the chance!
➞ Attachments (2)
✓ read
>> <<
She couldn't bring herself to look at the images. Instead, she continued down her list.
>> <<
Midnight
➞ Hey! I got your number from Yamada. Sorry to leave you so high and dry in the store. How 'bout we get drinks sometime? On me? Get back to me soon, I don't like waiting!
➞ You're so bad at responding! Remind me to never page you. Yikes! The offer still stands, though.
✓ read
>> <<
The aggression translated well over messages. May didn't have the energy to reply to that one either.
>> <<
Toshinori
➞ Hey Doctor! Sorry I haven't had the chance to report my findings. It's been a little crazy, I'm sure you understand. I'll be in your office soon. I'm afraid it's not a lot to report. Hope you're doing alright after the USJ.
All Might
xX Plus Ultra! Xx
✓ read
>> <<
May started typing, but couldn't find it in herself to give a thorough response. He had texted her before and he just wouldn't respond. Then, her finger hovered over the last name. It was the one that distracted her before she was dragged into oblivion.
>> <<
Aizawa
➞ How long am I supposed to wear these bandages again? It's not listed on your guide.
✓ read
>> <<
She hummed to herself, and started to type.
>> <<
Me
We'll check tomorrow and I can give you a more definitive answer. I wasn't sure how the healing process would go. That's why. (Sent.)
>> <<
May decided to start typing a response to Toshinori, anyways. It distracted her in some strange way, taking her thoughts away from what had occurred.
Then, her phone buzzed again.
>> <<
Aizawa
➞ Ok.
➞ Did you end up shortening your presentation?
✓ read
>> <<
May narrowed her eyes and bit her lip, trying to think of the right thing to say. She did adjust her presentation, but only because she found it worked better. His advice had fallen on deaf ears. Especially after the door shutting incident.
>> <<
Me
I did, but only by a small margin. It allowed for more hands-on activity. (Sent.)
>> <<
It wasn't long before the next buzz.
>> <<
Aizawa
➞ Ok. See you at work tomorrow. I hope to have a more certain answer.
✓ read
>> <<
May didn't respond after that and found herself less motivated to respond to any more messages. She decided to tackle the remaining objects in her purse. To give her something to do.
She slowly pulled out each picture. And threw them in the trash.
Next, the file and the pouch. May tugged on the strings of the drawstring pouch, expecting a bomb. It would be the least of her concerns at that moment. Instead, a small vial of blood rolled out.
Holy shit! That should be refrigerated!
May grappled for it and then slammed it into one of her fridge drawers. The cap was secure. Hopefully, it wouldn't explode like a shaken-up soda. Shaken-up bloody soda.
The velvety pouch caressed itself between her fingers as she lifted it, to dump out whatever else was inside. A silvery burner phone was the only thing left.
They still make these things?
She had sworn her grandparents had something similar. Her shaking fingers flipped open the top. Indeed, there was one contact. Twice. With no new messages. May gripped the phone tight, the trash can lid open.
Two of her fingers loosened around the phone. But she couldn't get herself to fully let it fall. May couldn't just forget about what transpired. People's lives rested in her hands in a way she didn't expect. By doing nothing. And going along with a criminal.
Pocketing the phone was her only option.
Her eyes drifted over to the file, creased and bent by her frantic attempts to shove it into her purse. She flipped it open, expecting neatly typed forms that listed Twice's medical history. Handwritten notes greeted her, the ink bleeding together in some unintelligible paragraphs. May covered her whole face with her hands and bit back a scream.
How was she supposed to do anything with that?
Giving up wasn't an option, however. May retrieved her laptop and began transcribing. Minutes became hours, as another document was created that contained her notes and possible treatment plans and diagnoses. Books were picked up from the floor and opened again.
Her mind pushed the interaction to the back of her brain, locking the pain and fear into a tiny box. She threw the key into the deep ocean of her consciousness. May determined the best way to handle her new situation was to treat it like it was her actual patient. And they had an extremely rare condition.
Burning the midnight oil let her mind wander into psychological textbooks that she'd never gone before. But the more she transcribed and understood his case, the more she felt like it was out of her hands.
My quirk isn't a long-term fix unless used right at the moment of an injury. It can't replace what's gone. May remembered one of her experiments with malignant cancer cells. Her quirk was quickly overpowered by the quick reproduction of the broken cell cycle. The body's messages were continuous, and nothing that a quick fix like hers could do.
Can my quirk even assist with a problem of this kind? I've never tried to solve mental health issues. May ran her hand along her chin. It wasn't something she ever thought she'd have to face. Her intended goal in medicine was to perform surgeries and investigate anomalies.
Technically, it did count as an anomaly.
When she transcribed everything she could, she leaned back in her chair and stared at the thirty tabs open on her computer. She lifted her hand and shut it all down. The file was closed, the phone was put away, and May meandered into her bedroom at the ripe time of three in the morning.
May found no relief as she laid in bed. Somehow the locked-up box opened again, flooding into her mind like a repulsive oil spill. In the ceiling of her bedroom, pale eyes gazed back at her. Her body spiraled into grotesque imaginations of her young friends. Of her frail parents. Living peacefully and without this knowledge.
They couldn't catch this criminal anyway.
What was she going to do?
Nothing?
She was going to do nothing and could do nothing.
What an empty action.
Nothing.
Her thoughts, stained in blood, never left her alone. When she closed her eyes, she saw orphans and widows. And funerals to attend. Ones that had dark skies and rainy weather, the kind that she'd need an umbrella for.
May watched the shadows stretch across her room as the early morning sun penetrated her window with orange light. And she had completely forgotten about the upcoming Sports Festival.
— hello, I have yet to put an author's note within this version! I hope you're enjoying this edited version and the story so far. I commend all of you that jumped ship from my other fic. I couldn't have asked for better readers and more kind people. Much more to come! Thank you all for your continued support. —