The dark clothed man looked down at you blearily from over the top of his scarf.
"Are you alright, kid?" he asked.
His sharp gaze flicks to the bruises on your wrist as you hastily pulled down your sleeve over it.
It was too late, he saw.
#1 Aizawa'...
"She's on her last life," that sounded like Katsumi's voice "but I can save her."
"Why should I trust you?" Aizawa snarled, the low notes of his voice vibrating though his chest.
Sounds and sights got too warped to make sense of anything after that. You swirled into the blurry colors and sounds of oblivion with a feeling of relief.
It felt like a long time passed. The dizzying lights and colors had stilled into a quiet, peaceful darkness. You floated hazily. Maybe it had been days, maybe only a few seconds. Impossible to tell.
The first thing you became conscious of was a sound. It started with a single note, reverberating through your mind, identical to your first time plucking the string of the new guitar on your wall. Acoustic guitar. Clear, resonant notes, blending together, weaving melodies. Your favorite songs. But subtle variations in timing and note choice kept catching your attention. It wasn't the original artists. Who was playing the songs?
The question tugged at your mind, not allowing you to rest. You had to know who it was. You struggled hazily through the darkness, like a person trying to get to the surface of a dark swimming pool. Persistently, relentlessly, struggling to make some kind of connection, to grasp memories just out of reach, to not drift away forever.
The notes crystalized in your ears as you woke up. You opened your eyes, the flood of light blurry to you as you blinked. You could feel your body, laying in a bed. Your vision focused, and you saw your best friend sitting nearby, his messy head of indigo hair bent over an acoustic guitar, lightly touching the strings, turning motion to vibration to pure sound as he continued to play your favorite songs with complete concentration.
You felt too tired to turn your head, but your eyes flicked around the sterile white hospital room. Dad was dozing in the corner. His presence immediately set you at ease. You could barely feel the IV in your arm. The bed was soft. You drank in the sounds of guitar, cat ears flicking towards Hitoshi.
He shifted slowly in his chair, turning towards you with absolute exhaustion clouding his face. His eyes widened when he saw you were awake.
"Eiko!" He set down the guitar, fingers trembling, and took your hand.
"Hi," you croaked, then swallowed. "Water please?"
He pressed it to your lips so quickly that it nearly splashed you. You sipped, coughed, then sipped again. The dryness of your throat eased away.
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"When did you learn to play guitar?" you gave him a cheeky grin.
He was speechless. He leaned over you, tenderly holding your face in his warm hands, tears brimming as he searched your eyes with desperate relief. His thumb rubbed your cheek gently as if to verify that you were real.
"Hey, I'm fine," you assured. "I guess I scared you... sorry."
He studied you. "I was so angry when you joined the villains. Even finding out that it was to protect everyone, I was angry. I never want you to risk your life for me, or for anyone. But," his violet eyes glowed with regret "That's what heroes do. So instead of trying to stop you, or control you, I'll do my best to back you up. Because even heroes need saving sometimes."
