Eraserhead and Scribe IV

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Tomura Shigaraki liked rainy mornings. It was one of the few things he did like. So he felt oddly at peace with the world when he returned to the headquarters of the Paranormal Liberation Front on a rainy spring day after a walk. To make it even better, the doctor had called earlier to reassure him everything would be in place within the week.

And that was when his transformation would finally begin.

So when he entered his private quarters to find Spinner waiting for him, he managed to maintain his cool demeanor much longer than he usually would have. "What's up?"

Spinner had the exact air of a dog with a very big bone. He was so satisfied with himself Shigaraki was fairly certain he would bust in another second. He paused, bemused. What could have put his lizardy lieutenant in such a good mood? "Spinner?" He waited, impatience just beginning to creep up on him as he discarded his wet hoodie.

"Don't freak out, boss. But...I found her."

"You found who?" The impatience was there. Dammit. Spinner had ruined his mood.

"Scribe. She's here."

"Here?" Shigaraki felt a shock course through his system, leaving goosepimples on his bare forearms. He clenched his hands. "What do you mean she's here? You found her?" His voice came out sharper than he'd intended.

"Yeah...well." And now Spinner didn't look as self-satisfied. "She was just laying there. In the street. Looks like someone attacked her."

"Attacked her?" Shigaraki glared. "You could've led with that. Where is she?"

"I had the guys bring her up here. She's...well..." Spinner nodded toward the bedroom door. "I didn't really know what else to do..."

Shigaraki stared at the door. What did it mean? Scribe was much too strong to have been attacked by a random mugger. Her fighting skills, her quirk, her reactions were all on par with some of the top-ranked heroes. He frowned. Then he pushed past Spinner and opened the bedroom door.

The woman lying unconscious on his bed was indeed the hero Scribe. Her face was splattered with mud and he could see a bit of blood in her ethereal hair. Otherwise, she looked unharmed. He approached the bed cautiously, looking down at her. Then he went to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. He carefully wiped the mud from her face and examined the bloody area at the back of her head. He found a large bump but she wasn't bleeding anymore.

As he examined her, she groaned and he stepped back. He glanced at Spinner, still standing in the doorway. Spinner looked nervously over his shoulder at the exit. "So...I should be going..." He backed away.

"Spinner." Shigaraki turned back to Scribe.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Don't mention this to anyone. And make sure your men keep their mouths shut." Shigaraki couldn't take his eyes off Scribe. She was definitely waking now.

"Yeah. You got it, boss."

A moment later, the door closed and as if on cue, Scribe's eyes popped open. She looked around as if disoriented, and Shigaraki waited for her to assume a defensive posture when she finally focused on him. But that didn't happen.

"Hey." She sat up, rubbing her head and wincing. "Ow."

"What do you remember?" He watched her, still on guard. Scribe was strong and dangerous, even to him.

Especially to me.

Instead of answering, she shook her head as if to clear it. She pushed herself further upright and wobbled a little. He made half a movement as if to support her but drew back again. She peered at him curiously. "I don't remember anything. What happened?"

"Spinner found you in the street. Unconscious. Fortunately, he recognized you." He reached around her, his fingers finding the lump on the back of her head. "Somebody gave you a pretty nasty whack on the head. Any idea who?"

"No." She sighed and then moved closer to him. He withdrew his hand quickly, startled. She smiled. "Why so jumpy?" She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. I'm just glad I found my way back. With Spinner's help, I guess."

Shigaraki froze. What the hell was she talking about? He couldn't attribute it all to the blow on the head. Could he? His natural reaction was suspicion. He'd threatened Himiko and Twice within an inch of their lives if they ever dared play such a trick on him...but still. This couldn't be Scribe laying her head on his shoulder, voluntarily holding his hand, speaking to him with love in her voice...

Why not? She's done it before. He shook his head to clear it, just like she had a few moments before. That was different. That was just a vision, just a thought, a projection. It wasn't even me. He moved away from her, still feeling the warmth of her head on his shoulder, the smell of her hair haunting him.

This is not in my head. The question is, what's happened to hers?

"Tomura?" She looked at him in surprise. "What's going on?"

"You need to rest." He cast about for a reason for his desertion. He settled on honesty. "And I need to find out what happened to you."

She sighed. "I am tired. But can't you stay with me? Just for a few minutes until I fall asleep?" She caught his hand and gave it a little tug as she lay back on the bed, her smile inviting.

Everything in him wanted to join her. His heart thudding in his chest, he tried to summon the strength to back away. If he laid down on the bed with her without knowing what had changed and how she'd come to be there, it would be a betrayal of everything he felt for her. But his arms longed to wind around her, he wanted to bury his nose in her sweet-smelling hair. He wanted to take that with him where he'd committed to go.

It's a dream anyway. He lay down next to her, facing her so he could look into her eyes. "How can something so perfect as you allow me to touch you?" He breathed the thought.

"You know I don't see the scars, Tomura." The love in her voice reproved his self-loathing tone. "All I see is you."

Even so. He let her snuggle closer, pillowing her head on his shoulder. He lay awake as her breathing deepened, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd once told her if she ever chose him, he'd leave everything else behind. Was this his opportunity to make good on his word? Had he truly meant it, even?

I did. Then. But now was a different story.