Eraserhead and Scribe III

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Scribe awoke on the sofa. She lifted her head from the pillow, the afghan shifting on her body. It was dark in the apartment. How long did Shota let me sleep? She sat up and stretched, feeling better than before. "Shota?"

When her voice echoed in the small dark room, she dropped her arms and looked down. She was wearing her white sundress. She stood slowly. Tomura?

Here, pretty. He sat in the single wooden chair in the corner. No one but Tomura Shigaraki had ever sat in that chair, and he'd never been in her apartment.

Well, only the once. He grinned at her, reminding her of the one time. When he'd left a white rose on her pillow on her wedding night.

Is this real or am I dreaming? She looked around, wishing she had some sense of how to tell the difference.

Do you dream about me often, pretty? He stood and walked toward her, pausing at the end of the sofa. He tilted his head. Because I still dream of you.

What do you want, Tomura?

He shook his head. That's not why I'm here, pretty. I'm here because you want something from me.

I do? She couldn't contain her surprise, but then she remembered. I didn't think you'd let me ask you, though.

He shrugged. And yet here I am. Trust me, pretty, I'm not crazy about it. But it seems if you call, I come.

I didn't know I had called. She shrugged. But I do need to know who would want revenge on you, Tomura.

He snorted laughter. Revenge? On sweet lil me? He sobered, his gaze suddenly piercing. Why?

Because someone is trying to kill me and we're pretty sure they want me to think they're you.

The impostor? He frowned. That does make a certain twisted sense. Although you are the target. His eyes narrowed. It does make you wonder, doesn't it, pretty? He tilted his head. Who could we have pissed off?

The way he said "we" set off alarms in Scribe's soul. She moved away from him. What are you talking about, Tomura?

He leaned forward a little, placing his hands on the arm of the sofa. I can think of only one person. Someone I murdered...for you.

She wanted to deny it but she remembered. She remembered the confusion and weakness of that day when her quirk had been stolen and Aizawa was wounded. Shigaraki had helped them, led her to the only safe exit and helped her carry Aizawa there. And then as she hesitated, the boy had rounded the corner...he couldn't have been more than a teenager. But he was dangerous. He could raise the alarm...and Tomura had stopped him with an ungloved hand to the throat. The same hand he'd just touched her face with.

He nodded. You do remember. His name was Masumi. His quirk was copy. Not what you've seen, but maybe it would have become so. He was young.

She bowed her head. Please don't say you murdered him for me. I would have stopped you. If I could.

If you had, you would be dead. And Eraser. Possibly me as well. He shrugged. I won't say it, but it doesn't change the facts.

Her heart beat violently in her chest. She could feel it, even in this dream state with Tomura. But he's dead. If he's dead, then who—?

He most likely had family. With similar quirks. Possibly more advanced. If someone is after both of us, then that's where my money is. He paused, tilting his head. Don't feel too badly, pretty. If Masumi were still alive, he'd most likely still be in my employ. And if his quirk progressed to be what you're facing now, I'd be in a very good position to achieve all you've fought against, don't you think?

Go away, Tomura. She bowed her head, her heart aching. She didn't like thinking he was right and she was nearly as much to blame for what was happening as he was. For what had happened to Masumi. How could the impostor know what had happened there? She'd thought it had been only her and Tomura...and an unconscious Eraser...and Masumi.

For what it's worth, pretty. I'd do it again...

She looked up and caught a glimpse of his glowing eyes as he bowed his head, his mane of hair hiding them as he faded. His final thought echoed in the darkness he left behind.

...for you.

***

Aizawa was on the phone with Mic when he heard Scribe awaken, her breath exploding from her lungs in a gasp. She sat up, but her eyes were unfocused. He hung up quickly. "Scribe?"

She turned in his direction, reaching out, and he caught her hand. "What's wrong? What happened?" He sat next to her and pulled her against him. He could feel her trembling.

"Tomura." She whispered the name in a voice of horror. "He told me...who it might be. Who would want revenge on him...and me."

Shigaraki. Of course. But what could he have told her, and was it real? Or had she been dreaming? "What did he tell you?"

Her face was deathly pale and she hesitated. He could see there was something she'd never told him. He'd thought they were past her keeping secrets with Shigaraki, and the realization that there was something more made him wonder if there wouldn't always be just one...more...thing. He shoved the thought away and took her hands. "Tell me."

She lowered her eyes. "I didn't tell you because I think I was...ashamed of it. Ashamed to have let it happen." She looked up, her gaze appealing to him to understand. "I'm so sorry. I should have. It was...when he kidnapped Midoriya. I was practically helpless, my quirk was gone, you were wounded. Tomura helped us escape."

He nodded, his mouth feeling dry. He swallowed the dryness. "And?"

"He killed a kid. Couldn't have been more than a teenager." She shuddered at the memory. "We were at the exit. I stopped him from leaving. I wanted...wanted to know why. Why he helped us, why he helped you. It seemed important...but..." She trailed off and he could see her doubting her decisions. "That's when he touched my face with all five fingers for the first time. And the kid saw him do it, so Tomura killed him. He didn't even hesitate. Just grabbed him by the throat, and I saw it...saw it happen. But I didn't stop him." She looked up, her face miserable. "To help me, Tomura Shigaraki murdered a child."

He sat stunned for a few seconds. He understood the guilt that wracked her. He even understood why she'd never told him. Telling her that stopping Shigaraki would have been impossible was beside the point, too. The guilt of witnessing something like that must be crippling. "He was one of Shigaraki's men?"

She nodded. "I remember he said he was a friend of Himiko's. He was worried she would be upset. Not worried that he'd killed the kid, but that Himiko would be angry with him. He was maybe fifteen years old." She met his eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Shota. I guess I didn't want you to know I could be part of something like that. And still feel sympathy for him. Or whatever this is I feel for Tomura."

He nodded, understanding that too. Scribe's feelings for Tomura Shigaraki were undeniably complex and difficult. Some of it was due to her quirk binding them together. Some of it was from the Doctor's interference. And probably some of it was even natural. She and Shigaraki had shared a lot in a short time. He took her hand. "I don't blame you for any of that, Scribe. And, not that it's going to help, but I doubt you would have been able to stop Shigaraki from murdering the kid. He did it more for self-preservation than anything." He sighed, kissed her fingers and pulled her close. "Now what we have to do is figure out who the kid left behind that's looking for revenge. Because I'll be damned if I'll let them kill you for what Shigaraki did." He clenched one hand into a fist, tightened his hold on hers with the other.

She nodded. "Tomura said his name was Masumi. He thought it might be someone from his family who wanted revenge."

He pulled out his phone, dialing Kohei's number and happy to finally have a direction. "Let's find out everything we can about Masumi's family, what do you say?"