Mistakes ~TodoBaku~

Chapter 4: exhausted smile

Shoto Todoroki

After that...practically nothing. Sure, there was that email I ignored, but that was my only other consultation of the night. And even that was quite simple.

Elderly man serving a whole-life sentence for multiple homicide, recently learned of his wife's death. Spent near enough two hours crying and telling me about her in between sobs. I had to get a bucket brought in since I was worried he'd make himself sick from crying.

Don't get me wrong, I don't feel sorry for him. He killed his four children and both his nephews, he deserves more than anybody to be here. I just didn't want the room to smell.

I'd become quite attached to my little room across the hours that I'd had to force myself to stay awake in it until 8am. I'd had to make dashes to a nearby vending machine to get energy drinks on a couple of occasions, and caffeine was the only thing keeping me going as the clock hit 7:30am. I made a mental note to go out and buy a coffee machine the next chance I got.

I could feel myself start to need sleep again, but it wasn't worth getting another drink now, especially since I'll be in bed in half an hour. Instead, I decided to distract myself by writing up a few notes on the patients I'd had so far.

Shinji Nakamura; 36 years old; Murdered his wife after he caught her in bed with his brother 12 years ago; Life with option of parole after 18 years; This week marks halfway through his sentence, and it's affecting him badly.

Seems to be under the impression that I am his attorney. Tried convincing me to put in a good word for him. I, of course, declined. Don't expect to see him back - I think he knows he's failed.

I sighed, that being the bulk of what I could even remember from my talk with Shinji. For some reason, I couldn't move on from everything Katsuki had said to me. It complicated my thoughts about Shinji, as I kept mixing up their stories, not to mention leaving snarky comments to myself in my notes. Although I suppose that's a separate issue. I sighed again and sat up straight, fighting the urge to slump onto my keyboard and sleep, and started typing my second set of notes

Katsuki Bakugo; 23 year old; murdered his employer, millionaire Hyuga Sawamura, motive never identified; took plea bargain for 12 years; starting second year of his sentence; no reason given for requested counsel.

Motive identified; attempted blackmail and assault, possible self defence claim(?), wanted someone to talk to. Reclusive personality hidden by brash arrogance, potential to be incredibly difficult to reason with. Finds significant discomfort in lack of privacy for masturbation.

...perhaps that last one was a little self-indulgent.

I was almost concerned with how easily the notes came to me, how much I'd recalled of what we'd spoken about, despite the vague nature of most of it. I don't know why I made a note of the fact that Katsuki may have a claim that proved he was acting in self-defence, given the gruesome details of what he'd done, but...it felt like the right thing to do. Call me an idiot, but he didn't seem like the type of person who deserved to be in there. He seemed like a good man, if a little abrasive.

But that already was proof that I wasn't very good at my job. And for the sake of my job...no, my whole life...I can't say anything. Probably not even about him revealing his motivations to me. I didn't think that classified under the things I am obligated to disclose if I deem it necessary. And, as unfortunate and heartless as it is, this wouldn't be seen as necessary, and neither one of us would come out of it looking good. So it wasn't just my career I was thinking about. If I learned anything important enough that Katsuki may have a claim to innocence, then is when I should be speaking up. Not a moment before.

And besides, right now, I wanna go to bed.

I barely remembered to lock the door to my makeshift office, and stumbled like a zombie to the foyer, signing out at precisely 8:01am. The receptionist (the same as last night, I noted) gave me a knowing smile, as if she'd experienced exactly what I was going through once upon a time. I figured she must be the one sending me emails about inmates needing me, so at some point I might try and strike up a friendship of sorts. But for now...just a friendly, exhausted smile.

I made my way across the courtyard, basking in the cool morning breeze. It was getting towards the end of summer, and leaves were starting to fall all around me, swirling in particularly strong gusts. I felt them crunch beneath my feet as I made no conscious effort to dodge them, taking a direct route back to my eagerly awaiting bed.

I undressed in a daze and slinked under the covers, slamming my head onto my pillow and sighing, enjoying the comfort that I'd been depriving myself of for way longer than I'd have liked. I'm still not at all regretting it though.

My conversation with Katsuki last night (or was it this morning?) may have impacted that a lot. I couldn't help but be curious if I'd ever see the blond boy with the crazy emotional range. I couldn't tell which of his personalities was genuine - the rash, arrogant one, or the relaxed, loner type.

Both of them fit him, and yet neither fully defined him. I wanted to find a word for the boy, but their wasn't one.

I felt myself slowly beginning to fall asleep, and did my best to banish my thoughts of the inmate until my next shift started, at least.

I'm standing in the corner of a small room that I recognise. I recognise it...because I think I made it up. I think this is what I imagined Katsuki's apartment to look like when he told me his story earlier.

I'm standing in the corner of the room, looking down at the bloody mess that is Hyuga Sawamura, slumped over the small table in the room, his skull clearly dented. The man is obviously dead, probably has been at least 30 minutes.

I'm unsure of what to do, so I sneak around the body, looking for something - anything - that I'll recognise. I find what I'm looking for when I see Katsuki, walking around his house, his hair wet down to his head. He walked into the kitchen, sighing as he regarded the dead body, and started making himself a sandwich.

I'm watching in awe as he sits on the couch and eats, not 3 metres away from the man he killed. He seems pretty much unfazed, just eating as if today were a normal day.

Once he'd finished, he stood up again, placing the plate in the sink and not washing it, stretching his arms over his head and sighing loud, muttering something to himself before reaching for his laptop and heading off to the bedroom to...yeah, do that, presumably.

Naturally, I didn't follow him in.
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Respect 😌

I like this chapter, it's quite enjoyable just taking time to develop a story once again

Fact of the Day: I personally would love to work a night shift, I love being awake at night