Eraserhead and Scribe IV

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Spinner stood outside his quarters. Neither man spoke, but Spinner undeniably looked relieved. He followed Shigaraki into the living area. Shigaraki sank onto the sofa, propping his feet up, intentionally blasé to set his lieutenant at ease. Spinner gave him a narrow look. "I take it things went well with Eraser? Or should I send a cleanup crew out?"

"Eraser is even now checking into the gang they busted up last week. So you can take a breather, Spinner." Shigaraki looked at the door to the bedroom. "She's asleep?"

"As far as I know. She went in right after I got here. I sent the cart back down to the kitchen. Didn't look like either one of you ate much." Spinner gave him a curious look.

Shigaraki opened his mouth to deny it, but then he leaned forward and scrubbed his face. "I don't think she'll last long like this. It's like she's stuck between two worlds. I walked into the bedroom earlier and she turned around and hit me. And you know what?" He looked up at Spinner. Spinner shook his head wordlessly. "I was glad. Relieved. Because she doesn't belong here, and I know that, even if I really want..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing how much of his weakness he was betraying to his lieutenant. But it didn't really matter. Spinner was completely loyal. If it had been Dabi, he'd've found a way to use it. But Spinner wouldn't do that.

Still, he couldn't afford to show weakness to anyone. He stood. "It's been a long day. And I don't know how long it'll take Eraser to get to the bottom of this. The sooner the better, but I need rest before that happens."

"Yeah, sure, boss." Spinner seemed grateful for the excuse to leave. He backed toward the door. Then he paused. "If you hear from Eraser, call me."

Shigaraki nodded. Then he entered his bedroom, unsure of what he would find there.

A lamp burned next to the bed, but Scribe was asleep, one hand curled beneath her face. Shigaraki paused, looking at her. How many times had he imagined her like this? Asleep. Peaceful. That wasn't what he dreamed of, though.

He pulled the chair over to the bed and sat so he could gaze at her. His dreams. So like the day he had just spent with her, but so different, too. He leaned forward, tenting his fingers together and resting his chin on them. In his dreams, they often danced. He just held her like he had tonight. They were so vivid he sometimes wondered if they were shared dreams, part of the strange bond between them.

He knew Eraser believed that bond had been created by Scribe's quirk when he faced her for the first time in the woods behind UA. He certainly had never considered falling in love with her. That was the first time he called her "pretty", though. He'd been impressed by her untamed power and savagery. But love?

But after that, she'd haunted him. The connection that manifested between them had at first seemed like something he could exploit. He hadn't even known what it was at first. Not until she'd married Eraserhead. He remembered that night vividly. The anguish that built into a restless rage that led him to her bedside in the middle of the night, into her dreams. And the rose he'd left on her pillow.

He groaned inwardly. Not my finest hour.

Her horror had forced him to rethink his position. The envy was manageable when he thought of her happiness. Eventually, he'd accepted her marriage with Eraser. He'd even passed up several openings to take out the irritating hero. Just to avoid hurting her.

Hell, I even helped them escape my own men. And teamed up with Eraser to save her once before.

I'd do anything for her. Even when I told her I wouldn't be safe for her, I knew I still couldn't hurt her.

And that was the other wrinkle, wasn't it? He truly couldn't hurt her...with his quirk, at any rate. He remembered the wonder of the first time he'd touched her and left no mark. The pure joy of being able to touch another human being was something he hadn't trusted for a long time after.

Shigaraki leaned back in the chair. He really was tired. But he didn't want to get into the bed with her. He couldn't spend the night with her in his arms and be willing to release her to her real life. Besides, he'd meant what he'd said to Eraser. He had no intention of hurting her in any way.

So he wrapped his own arms around himself and settled into a slumped posture. He wouldn't sleep well, but he doubted he could, anyway.

***

A light kiss on his forehead woke him. He sat up, his senses alert but still disoriented. He slowly got himself under control and focused on the woman sitting on his bed in front of him. Scribe. She wore one of his shirts. "Tomura, what are you doing? Why didn't you come to bed?"

He searched for an appropriate answer. "I didn't want to disturb you. You looked so peaceful."

"I wish you had just come to bed." She yawned and looked at the clock. "But there's still time. It's barely five. Come to bed, Tomura. Get at least a couple of hours good rest before you have to get up." She reached for his hand.

He almost accepted the invitation. He was tired and it was impossible to come up with an excuse not to curl up with her for a nap. But when he stood, the phone fell out of his pocket. She reached for it. "What's this?"

Before he could stop her, she flipped it over. She froze, her brow crinkling at the sight of the picture. She shot him an almost wounded look, the phone held against her chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "Tomura?"

"I wanted to tell you." He took a cautious step toward her. "I've been trying to figure out what happened. Eraser—"

"Shota." She held out her other hand to stop him, her face almost vacant. Then she focused on him. "Tell Shota we missed one. Tell him to go back. He has to help her before she gets hurt." Abruptly she turned back to the bed.

He watched in shock as she set the phone on the bedside table and slid back between the sheets, curling her hand beneath her cheek just as he'd found her earlier. But when he looked closer, he saw the trickle of blood beneath her left nostril.