Mirror's Aftermath
Desolator fired.
Christopher gasped as the force of train slammed into his chest. His sternum cracked. His vision went white. Maru’s quirk slipped from his grasp. He felt the obscuration field drop around him. He felt the memory of a friend leave his mind. Shit.
Christopher’s vision pulsed. One moment he saw nothing but white hot pain. The next he saw Desolator. Desolator pointed his gun at Chris.
‘At least I gave you some pain to remember me by, you bastard.’ Christopher thought venomously.
Christopher surprised himself. Last time, when he was at death’s door, he’d been so scared. This time… he wasn’t. His vision turned back to white. Was it because he’d been near death before? Was it because he hadn’t been so helpless this time?
Christopher’s vision thrummed back into focus one last time. Or was he just in denial? That was fine. It was okay to die in denial. It wouldn’t hurt anything to be a little delusional at the end.
Christopher saw Desolator’s eyes. He saw the man’s trigger finger shake. He saw his mouth tighten. He was hesitating!
Christopher wanted to laugh, but it came out as a rasping cough. He wouldn’t do it! There were rumors, second-hand accounts, that Desolator wouldn’t kill children. Christopher had always dismissed those rumors as misguided attempts to humanize one of the most prolific serial killers in history.
Now that Christopher saw Desolator’s eyes, the eyes ripe with conflict as the murderer struggled to cross his own arbitrary line, he knew the rumors were true.
Christopher tried to laugh but it just came out as a feeble gasp. ‘Why you stupid son of a bitch?’ Christopher mocked voicelessly. ‘Do you think having a scruple will you get a nicer spot in Hell?’
Christopher’s vision went white again, it wouldn’t come back. As oblivion took him, Christopher spared one last poisonous thought for Desolator. ‘You’ll regret letting me live.’
Christopher woke to the sound of snoring. He heard the beeping of a heart monitor. He smelled the pungent aroma of antiseptic. He opened his heavy eyes. He saw a horrid white washed ceiling illuminated by halogen lights. His arm hurt.
Christopher looked at his arm; there were several tubes coming out of his vein leading up to an IV stand. There was a 100 year old TV set hanging on the wall playing infomercials with the subtitles turned on. He was dressed in a simple blue gown. He lay on a shitty mattress with plastic rails enclosing him.
To Christopher’s right was a blue curtain. The snoring that had woke him up came from behind that thin blue curtain. He had a roommate. Fantastic.
Christopher sighed. Hospital. He was in a hospital. Second time in as many months. How hurt was he this time? He put a hand to his chest. He pressed. He bit back a scream.
‘Fuck I’m stupid.’ Christopher groaned. The throbbing, deep pain refused to abate. He lifted up his gown to examine himself. His chest was beet red. 3 fresh scars pockmarked his stomach. Scars? So the Doctor had already seen him and he STILL hurt like Hell. The scars marked the places where the bastard with the bones for hands went wild on him. Christopher ground his teeth. HE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHO THAT WAS!
Christopher sighed. He left the gown where it was as he stared at the ceiling. It was galling how close the heroes had gotten to beating the Five. Really just one less body on the Five’s side, just no dipshit highschooler with bones for hands and the Heroes had it won.
Christopher hit the back of his head against his pillow in frustration. Desolator had won, AGAIN. And here Christopher was, in the hospital, AGAIN. And this time… he’d brought people with him. The image of Kaylee being tossed through that damn hole in the wall came to mind. She hadn’t been moving. Rosethorn charging Maddox when she was exhausted. Did she have a prayer?
“Fuck me.”
Christopher swung his legs over the side and tried to stand. He wobbled. His legs were jelly. He grabbed onto his IV stand. He tried to use the metal pole to steady himself, to not fall. He failed. With a cacophonous crash Christopher brought his IV stand down with him. Christopher found himself laying on his belly in a tremendous amount of pain, “ow.”
“You okay kid?” A voice sounded through the blue paper thin curtain. Christopher turned his head, he saw a wooden sword draw the curtain back. He saw the reclined, vaguely sleep deprived, form of Ryusei Sugiyama HN Smokin’ Sexy.
“Fine.” Christopher answered, his voice a little hoarse.
“Yeah you fucking look it.” Ryusei swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood. His right leg was ensconced inside a plaster cast. He flipped his bokken and used it as a cane. He made his way to Christopher’s side. He picked Christopher up under his arms.
Christopher winced in pain as the hero began to lift him from the ground. With a heave, Ryusei helped Christopher sit on his bed. “There you go dumbass.” Ryusei bent over and righted Christopher’s IV stand. Ryusei examined the bags on the IV stand for a moment, making sure nothing was leaking… that no air was getting in. “Doctor said you’re alright, but he gave you some painkillers that’s probably why--”
“Was anyone else hurt?” Christopher interrupted.
Ryusei sighed. “Yeah… fucking everybody. No deaths though, so that’s SOMETHING. Couple of cops owe you their lives actu--”
“What about Kaylee and Rosethorn?” Christopher tried to stand again, but Ryusei forced him to back down by pressing the tip of his bokken against his chest. Christopher gasped in agony and quickly relented.
Ryusei let his bokken’s tip touch the ground as Christopher retreated. “Kaylee’s the other student that played vigilante right?”
Christopher nodded. He rubbed his chest.
“She’s fine, just a concussion and some broken bones. Rosethorn… we’ll know more in the morning.”
“Can I--”
“Visit? No,” Ryusei glanced at the TV. “Not right now anyway.”
Christopher followed Ryusei’s gaze. The TV was playing some infomercial about a Saurus sponsored weight machine. Saurus was talking about unlocking the blood of the ancient beasts according to the subtitles. In the bottom right corner of the TV was a black square square clock with green numerals. The time displayed was 4:43.
“Shit.” Christopher whispered. He’d been out for at least three hours… maybe a day and change. “What day is it?”
“Same day. Chill.”
Christopher nodded. That was something at least.
Ryusei winced. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m--”
“Smokin’ Sexy, I know.” Christopher interrupted. His head hurt. “I’m Christopher Cain.”
Ryusei blinked. “Nice to meet you Cain-- okay, how do you know who I am? I’m not exactly a big fucking name or anything, you a fan?”
“No.” Christopher answered. Ryusei deflated. “I just follow the local scene.”
“Well, I’m impressed.” Ryusei was a little depressed. For a second he thought he’d found a fan.
“Should I call a nurse or something?” Christopher asked, interrupting Ryusei’s ruminations.
“Why? You need something?”
“Because I only just now regained consciousness?”
“No you didn’t.”
“Huh?”
“The drugs are making you foggy kid. You were alert when they brought you in. They said you were asking for a ‘Saraki.’ Is that Kaylee’s surname?”
Christopher shook his head. “No.” In fact he’d never heard that name before, but it felt… familiar.
Ryusei yawned. “Well, I wasn’t there, maybe you asked for someone else.”
“… maybe.”
“I’m going back to bed kid. If you need help, call a nurse.” Ryusei rubbed his eyes. “… unless it’s an emergency I guess.”
“Good night.” Christopher responded as Ryusei returned to his bed.
Christopher laid down. His mind was awash with questions. Would the other heroes be okay? Kaylee was okay wasn’t she? Ryusei hadn’t been misinformed had he? What about Rosethorn? Ryusei said they’d know more in the morning… just what did that mean? Who the Hell was Saraki?
With questions and regrets dancing in his head, Christopher tried to sleep.
The sun rose to find Christopher laying awake in his bed staring at a muted television. Ryusei was snoring contentedly on the other side of the drawn pale blue curtain.
Christopher was watching the weather, not really reading the subtitles. The infomercials regarding the latest and greatest in exercise technology had ended some hours ago. On his chest was a piece of lined paper entitled ‘authorized visitors list.’ It was this piece of paper that would inform the hospitals who was authorized to visit Christopher while he was in the Hospital. It was currently blank.
Christopher had received this piece of paper shortly before sunrise. A nurse with a too noticeable mole had brought it to him along with his breakfast. ‘Fill it out when you’re ready!~” The nurse had said cheerily. Her mole jiggled. She’d left then, leaving Christopher alone with a damned piece of paper and no pen to fill it out with.
The breakfast lay unfinished on the table next to him. He was starving, but he didn’t have the will to eat. He watched the weather while his mind replayed the battle last night over and over again. His mind had preserved every moment in pristine detail. Every mistake seemed blindingly obvious to him now. Why the Hell had he been standing out in the open for all the world to see? He should’ve choked Nox out after saving Honoken. He should’ve broken Desolator’s guns. Should’ve, should’ve, should’ve.
Christopher swung his legs over the side of his bed. The authorized visitor’s list fell to the floor. Christopher ignored it. He needed some air. Maybe Kaylee’d be up by now? Maybe he could find out how Rose--
The door to his room slid open. That same nurse, the one who’d brought him his list peeked her head in. “Cain-kun.” She whispered, careful not to wake Christopher’s snoring roommate. “You have a visitor. I know you just got the list but~.”
Christopher frowned. “Who is it?”
A red-haired woman wheeled past the nurse. Her face an unreadable storm. “Oh! Miss you shouldn’t--”
“It’s fine.” Christopher interrupted. If anyone had a right to visit him it was her. The red-haired woman came to a stop next to Christopher’s bed, staring right through him. Christopher avoided her gaze.
“Alright.” The nurse said uncertainly. “Call me if you need anything.” With that, she closed the door. She left Christopher alone with a possibly furious Rosethorn and a very loudly snoring Smokin’ Sexy.
Silence. The only noise in that room for the next minute was Smokin’ Sexy’s obnoxiously loud snores and snorts. Christopher couldn’t bring himself to look at Rosethorn. Last night, when he’d told her how to find Desolator, she’d threatened to expel him. She told him, ‘if I see you anywhere near Desolator I will personally toss you out of Shiketsu.’
Christopher believed her then and he believed her now. The smart thing to do would be to apologize and hope for a suspension. But, he wouldn’t apologize. He’d saved lives. Smokin’ Sexy had said it himself last night. Nox’s shroud could be deadly. Christopher had lifted that shroud, enabled an actual fight to happen. He had snatched a chance at victory from the jaws of certain defeat. He wouldn’t apologize for that. Intervening… intervening was the one thing he felt good about doing last night.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Christopher said. He looked at his teacher. He wouldn’t apologize, but he had been worried. “Ryu-- Smokin’ Sexy didn’t know how you were doing... is the chair--”
“Temporary.” Rosethorn restrained a smile. Was she not angry? “I had a fall early this morning, so they’re making me use this chair.” Rosethorn patted her armrest.
Christopher resisted the urge to commiserate. He didn’t want to end up confined to a chair too.
Another long silence followed that exchange, punctuated only by the snorts and mumbles from behind the curtain. It was an awkward silence that only forms between two people who don’t know what direction a conversation is about to go. Eventually, Rosethorn came to a decision.
“Do you know why we assigned you escorts?”
Christopher looked at her. She looked… bemused? Christopher couldn’t place her expression. “My PTS… I thought. Maybe to protect me from the Five’s reprisals?”
“If the Five went after you in force, there’s very little an extra student could do. Your PTS was part of it, true, but not all.” Rosethorn explained. “The primary purpose of the escort was to make sure you didn’t go after Desolator.”
Christopher stared at his teacher.
“I know you two have… history and I hoped that another student there would mollify your instincts. Assigning Kaylee to the detail was a mistake.” Rosethorn admitted. “If you HAD gone against orders alongside Kaylee, I guess I’d only have myself to blame.”
The reasoning made sense. Christopher admitted. It would be hard to talk someone with no vendetta to go on a wild goose chase after one of the most dangerous assassins in the-- wait.
“If I had?” Christopher questioned.
Rosethorn put a hand on his head and pulled. She forced him down to eye level with her. Christopher bit back a protest as he looked into Rosethorn’s eyes. Those eyes conveyed an obvious message. The eyes said, ‘shut the fuck up and listen to me Christopher.’
“I can’t express how relieved I was not to SEE you at that battle. If I had, I’d expel you here and now.”
Christopher was speechless. She didn’t seem to be lying. She didn't want to expel him, that much was obvious, but she wasn't just turning a blind eye to his involvement. She was hedging on the deniability of not having actually seen Christopher at the battle. But how? How hadn’t she seen him? He was right there-- oh.
Christopher only had one quirk right now, Hailey’s psychokinesis. He would not have gone into battle with just one quirk. When Desolator shot him, maybe it forced him to drop a quirk. That quirk must’ve been invisibility! That explained some of his more bizarre decisions last night.
“I know how much catching Desolator means to you Chris.” Rosethorn continued. “But it means the world to me you were willing to let this go and let the adults try. I’m just sorry we failed.”
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“… trying?”
“Good boy.” Rosethorn rubbed his head once fondly before releasing him. Christopher straightened. He rubbed the back of his neck.
Rosethorn smiled tightly. She really shouldn’t do this. Christopher’d proven time and time again that he wasn’t willing to wait for a license to do hero work. He was guilty of vigilantism multiple times over. This time, he’d had a quirk that gave everyone who wanted to give him a break some deniability. But still, he really should be expelled.
The longer Rosethorn let her personal affection for the boy override her professional judgment; the more likely it became he’d embarrass the school, or worse, get himself killed. If he could just wait one year he’d be a shoe-in for a license then he could get some real experience—wait, why should he have to wait a year?
Rosethorn let her mind race along that train of thought. Why did anyone in 1-D have to wait until they were sophomores? Weren’t they ready? Hadn’t they already been through harsher trials than any license exam? Didn’t UA have their freshmen attempt the exam?
Rosethorn smiled broadly. She’d have a talk with Anzo. Mentioning the rat’s policy might convince her.
Christopher noticed Rosethorn’s smile. He tilted his head in confusion. He was about to ask what she was smiling about. Rosethorn, thinking quickly, thought of a reason for it. “Cain-kun. I have a favor to ask.”
Christopher correctly interpreted those words as ‘would you like to hear your punishment?’ He swallowed. “What is it?”
“I need a 5,000 word tactical analysis of the hero’s engagement last night.”
Christopher’s heart sank. How the Hell was that fair?! He was in the Hospital! He should be resting! Could she even fathom how much work it would be to parse an analysis of THAT engagement down to 5,000 words?!
5,000 words wouldn’t be enough to get through Nox’s quirk usage! Not to mention his own involvement couldn’t exactly be spelled out… he’d either have to invent a theoretical vigilante who lent a hand or come up with entirely non-existent explanations. This was a 40,000 word project at least!
“5,000 words?! Rosethorn-sensei--”
“Is it too long? Your priority SHOULD be your recovery I suppose. I guess 2,000 words would be more than enough~.”
Christopher’s mind broke. He couldn’t make 5,000 work, how the Hell was he going to do 2,000?!
“Is that still too long?” Rosethorn smiled. It was a devil’s smile.
It was the first time Christopher ever harbored ill-feelings towards his homeroom teacher. “No! 2,000…” he sighed. “2,000 will work.”
“Glad to hear it.” Rosethorn began to wheel herself away when she noticed a piece of paper resting on the floor. She bent down and retrieved Christopher’s authorized visitor’s list.
“… it’s empty.”
“I didn’t have a pen.”
Rosethorn pointed at the pen on Christopher’s end table.
“… oh.” He hadn’t noticed that.
Christopher looked conflicted. Rosethorn glanced at the blank sheet of paper in her hand. He had friends… he shouldn’t have conflicted feelings about filling this out. She looked back up at Christopher. She studied his face. He wasn’t going to list anyone.
Christopher was the youngest member of his class. He had this nasty habit of trying to compensate for that by projecting more maturity, more confidence, than he had. He was afraid if his classmates saw him now, all they’d see was his youth and vulnerability. Rosethorn glanced at the paper. He’d probably put his father down knowing full well the man’s phobia wouldn’t let him make it through the hospital doors. Then… Christopher’d leave the rest blank, just like last time.
Rosethorn handed the paper back to Christopher. “Tell you what.” She whispered. “For every name you put on your visitor’s list, you can add 100 words to that analysis.”
Christopher nearly snatched the paper out of Rosethorn’s hands and began writing. She smiled. He was a simple man. She began to roll away.
“Rosethorn-sensei.”
“Hrm?”
Christopher’s pen hovered over the paper. He’d begun to spell Kaylee’s name when he stopped writing and called out to Rosethorn. He looked up. His eyes were pleading. “Kaylee didn’t know about the consequences. I had her phone and--”
“You couldn’t tell her while you were safe at home?” Rosethorn finished his sentence before he said something stupid. Christopher nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m not in a expulsion mood. The worst she’ll get is community service.”
“Thanks.” Christopher sighed in relief.
“Anything else?”
“Yes,” Christopher frowned. “it’s a weird question, but is there a student that sits in the back row closest to the door?”
“… Nyoro Hoge.”
“Oh! Is that where they sit?” Christopher whispered, “thank you!”
“… you’re welcome.”
Rosethorn frowned. Hoge hadn’t used neutral pronouns for a while… and the two were friends, or so she’d thought. She stared at Christopher a moment longer, before shrugging. Forgetting Hoge was reasonable, even she did from time to time. With that last thought, she left.