i hate you. (Bakugou Katsuki x OC)

25 | Half-Truths

Nobody tells you how much red tape is involved when you lose your hand. Specifically when you, an unlicensed hero student, lose said hand to a homicidal asshole with a dirty blade.

The boys are sent home in a rapid succession, starting as early as Thursday evening. The first is Shoto, to nobody's surprise. He's released with no more than an NDA and the full ability to return to his internship. There's something to be said about his father being both his mentor and the pro-hero credited for the entire thing. The school of lawyers Tsuragamae ushered in after his press conference didn't need to cook up a whole soap opera for his injuries.

Izuku was next to be released. The lawyers took one look at his medical history, between school and home, and decided the most believable cover was him abusing his quirk. Which... fair. Mrs. Midoriya bought the story without a second glance, but she practically bubble-wrapped him and told him to stay home the rest of the week. It's not like Gran Torino would've let him come back to his internship anyway, so Izuku didn't fight it.

As for Tenya, his story boiled down to not worrying his family. They kept it simple, and vague—he encountered a villain while patrolling with Manual. One thing led to another, and now his fingers are a little stiff. The lawyers even outlined a timeline for him to 'start noticing his symptoms were worsening' and when he'd find out about his nerve damage. Down to the day.

I have to admit, I have a very healthy fear of the legal system now.

Saturday morning, my turn finally rolls around. I'm sitting up in bed, one-handedly flipping through a pamphlet on phantom limb pain that the nurses left me. (Which, by the way, is probably the worst part of this entire thing. Imagine your arm itching like crazy, but you can't scratch it because—oh, right—it doesn't exist.)

There's a knock on the door, but before I can say any form of "Come in," Tsuragamae waltzes in with all the gravitas of a man about to ruin my day. He's flanked by two lawyers—one of them with a face that screams "permanently pissed off at the world," and the other sporting a smile so fake it makes me wonder if her cheeks hurt.

"Nice to see you again, woof," Tsuragamae begins, voice friendly despite the situation. "It's time for us to discuss your statement and injuries."

Oh, joy. I put the pamphlet aside, leaning back against the pillows.

The fake-smile lawyer glances at my missing hand and winces before she can stop herself. Which, let me tell you, has become a regular occurrence in the past seventy-two hours. People are more freaked out by it than I am. Newsflash: I'm the one who's missing a limb here.

Okay, fine, maybe I am a little freaked out. But, it's like I told Izuku—I'm a seasoned master at avoiding my problems. Today, I've decided to go the route of "everybody is my enemy and the world is shit." Tomorrow, who knows?

"Let's get right to it," Tsuragamae says, pulling out a folder thick enough to double as a doorstop. He flips it open, revealing a neatly typed-out version of events that's so far from the truth it's practically in another galaxy.

According to them, Native and I weren't even remotely connected to the Hero Killer. We were just fine, training as usual, until we came across a burning factory in East Hosu last night. The burn marks on my leg? From the fire. The reason for my amputation? A support beam fell and crushed my arm while I was sweeping the place for civilians.

On paper, I'm practically a saint. This reignites the hot, sticky guilt in my stomach and drains the will to be angry at the world from my body. Seeing the story laid out nice and neat in front of me only works to amplify how much I messed up in reality.

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