Keigo still hadn't woken up.

The doctors had put him in an artificial coma to protect his brain from the traumatic injuries he had suffered.

From what I was told, his condition had been so serious that even the Commission had been forced to send him to a private hospital for emergency treatment.

He had suffered two cardiac arrests during his first night in the emergency department, and another one only yesterday.

He had several broken ribs, a traumatic brain injury, and an aortic aneurysm.

His skin was so badly burnt that if they hadn't told me it was him, I wouldn't have believed them. Most of his hair had been incinerated, leaving a bald, reddened forehead. His head was wrapped in strips of gauze soaked in a green cream that made him look like a mummy - or a corpse in a shroud.

Even his smell had changed, muffled by the medicine.

Now he smelled like old people in nursing homes, weak and dependent.

Worst of all were his wings.

Hawks, because of the peculiarity of his anatomy, wasn't really resting on a hospital bed.

His body lay on a white foam mattress, raised slightly above a real mattress : a hole at the level of his shoulder blades left his wings hanging around him, so much so that the tips brushed the floor.

They, too, were wrapped in white bands.

No one would tell me what was going on : the doctors had made it a state secret, and the nurses refused to talk.

They all acted as if his wings were of national importance, as if learning about them would put the whole country in danger.

I could visit Keigo, but not worry about his wings, as if they were worth more than he was.

I was desesperate and yet afraid for him to wake up – I didn’t know how to explain to him that he’d never be the man he was before that night.

His face was scarred.

I couldn’t even bear to look at him while he laid motionless.

I felt as if I were the one who’d marked him.

We’d have to talk when he’d wake up.

I’ll have to tell him about Dabi – tell him that he did it and, even if the crazy psychopath had been as resilient as a cockroach, he’d manage to wore him down enough for him to die.

He wouldn’t have to know about his comatose state – it was as if he were dead, anyway.

I wanted Keigo to wake up and to tell me everything was okay, that he didn’t hold it against me.

I wanted the guilt that was eating me from the inside out to be gone.

I wanted to have been cold enough to kill Dabi with my bare hands without a care for my father’s feelings.

I was, too, weak and dependent. I’d always been, really.

I wanted to laugh out loud about how insane this whole situation was yet I couldn’t for I felt it would be disrespectful towards Keigo.

I’m sure he would’ve liked you telling him how ironic this whole situation is.

I’d spent countless hours devising what should have been the perfect murder for Dabi to merely die because of an overused Quirk.

His medical record said his organs were melting, drop by drop, as if his own body was eating itself from inside out.

He’d spent his life devouring everything around him only to end up devouring himself.

Wasn’t that some kind of cosmic justice ?

Things were finally going my way.

I was considered a savior, Touya was dead, Dad had no clue I did it and, well, Keigo would wake up any day now.

They said some special Doctor with a convenient Quirk would come from the United States once Tokyo’s entrance ban ended ; meanwhile Keigo’s body would have to heal the old fashioned way.

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I just needed Keigo to wake up to be as close to happiness as I could ever hope to be in my whole life.

I wanted to tell him that he’d been more of a brother to me than my siblings could’ve ever been.

I needed him to wake up.

My gaze rose to the man next to me.

“I’d like to leave now”

The man nodded and guided me out.

I wasn’t allowed to see Keigo alone – I didn’t know if it was a specific rule for me or because of Hawk’s status as the Commission golden goose.

I walked as if I were lost in my thoughts, barely acknowledging my surroundings, mentally mapping the whole place.

It was early morning when I’d left his room.

By early afternoon Dad and I were seated at Tokyo’s court of justice for the beginning of the trials.

Plenty of others heroes were there : I recognized some of them but did not most. Among them were Kamui Wood and Cementos.

We were all wearing our Heroics suits as if we would be the ones delivering the sentences, smoothing out the idea of massive trials for people.

We had designed seats.

Dad and I were front row : massive cameras were everywhere, recording from every corner as to not miss a crumb of our sorrowful faces.

The one in the front was so close to us I felt as if the camareman was trying to shove it in our faces.

It felt as if we were on a movie set : there were light engineers, makeups artists and even someone who looked like a movie director. We would shot for one hour every day from monday to friday which would be compiled in a three minutes daily video for the public.

Boring was not a word strong enough to describe how I felt.

We’d had to wait for a while until everyone was ready.

Then it would only be one full hour of a judge reading sentences already carried out and concerning villains.

Between two shots I’d heard people talk about heroes fleeing their duty when they saw the Nomus : if it was true, we were not told about it.

At the end of the first day Cementos took me on the side to speak.

It was always an eerie experience to hear the rock box talk.

“I’ve heard you tried to help Aizawa”

I didn’t expect him to forgo simple greetings.

“We did, yes. But we arrived late”

“You did your best ; that’s what truly matters”

I wondered if he said it because he was a teacher or if he truly held no resentment towards those who did not manage to save his friend – or was he not his friend ? I knew Present Mic was, at least.

“How’s everyone else at school ?”

By everyone else I meant Katsuki and maybe a bit that bitch Uraraka – she was the one who told me where to find Aizawa even if we got there too late. Thus, she deserved – if not my respect – then me not murdering her in a Genjutsu again and again and again.

I still don’t know she knew where to find Aizawa.

“They’re a bit shaken by what happened to Aizawa and their classmates”

I frowned.

“Classmates ? What do you mean ?”

Cementos stayed silent for a bit.

“No one told you ?”

“I’ve lost my phone”

Cementos looked at me warily.

“A few of the students in 1-B where in Tokyo and they were caught in… the fights. And Uraraka as well as Monoma were shadowing Aizawa as part of their training that night”

“They’re dead ?”

“...Ochaco Uraraka, unfortunately, has dissapeared”

My first thought was, she has been eaten.

My next was to Katsuki.

“Concerning Aizawa… I think it would be nice if you could visit him someday. He’s alone right now and I’m the only one from the teachers that has the right to get in and out of Tokyo. I’m sure he’d be happy to see one of his student there for him”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure about it.

Aizawa and I… I’d liked him a bit at the beginning of the school year, but it had been nearly a year ago.

Too many stuff had happened for me not to be resentful towards him : under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have gone, and yet now that he was disabled I both felt a tiny bit of sadistic glee and horror at his situation.

If I went out he’d knew it was only out of pity, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to make his situation worse by doing so.

“I’ll think about it”

When we left, I resolved to get a new phone and log into my old social media accounts.

The class’s group chat was crazy as always.

I sent a text to Katsuki :

‘I’ve learned about what happened. How are you ?’

It sounded a bit awkward, especially because I didn’t see the last three tweets he’d sent me.

He didn’t respond.

I sent three more texts.

Surely he did not love her, did he ?

Teenage love was supposed to be… well… I had no real experience in the matter, but it certainly shouldn’t be that deep.

Maybe he was just trying to process everything ?

I hesitated for a bit then sent a fourth text.

I spent my afternoon doing light training to ease the pain in my muscles as well as working a bit on my fuinjutsu.

I took a bit of coke, too, but only because it made more productive.

At night, when I knew the hospital was closed, I sneaked into Keigo’s room and endeavored to heal him.

Iryoninjutsu had both the advantage of accuracy and being able to mend internal damages without cutting skin nor flesh.

While healing him I tried not to think too much about how fucked up his body was.

Around two in the morning, once I’d gone back home, my phone rang.

Katsuki had left me on read.

*

A/N : If you want to support the story and read ahead of schedule, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG