PAPER FLOWERS ( k. bakugou )

chapter 13

' flowers cannot bloom without rain '

━━━━━

The storm has passed. Grief is starting to fade and people will always tell you that it is better for the storm to pass, but they don't realize how all the casualties and the bereavement hurt more than physical pain.

How scratches and wounds are better than being unraveled inside.

"Well someone seriously needs therapy," a sardonic voice announces at the sight of Kaede sat on the marble floor and the glass shattered all over the place.

"Kaede-sama, have you cleared your mind now?" Mr. Compress, flanking Dabi asks with a careful tone.

Kaede looks at him, that neutral placid expression that made her look like an ivory statue- the ones made for Aphrodite (who they cling to for their continued patronage of love, oh amor vincit Omnia indeed), but Kaede's look had softened, weathered. Just a girl. "Yes," she said. "Much better now."

"Much better?" Dabi asked, incredulous. "I had to do all those missions that were meant for her and when I need alcohol to wash all that fatigue from doing her job, I see this. Nothing's edible now."

Kaede ignored him. There was something more pressing than his tantrums that resembled those of a child. She'd realized her new goal, no more light. Just darkness. She shall regain closure.

And for that, she needed strength. She needed to be stronger. More power.

"Kaede-sama?" This time, she doesn't face Mr. Compress, she sees what she has done. But the broken glasses from the array of alcohol bottles are gone and its stead is dust. Like glitter on the floor glinting against the light and she wishes the last trace of alcohol in her system is gone, so when she groans and checks her palm, Kaede is surprised to see only miniscule scratches.

Her hand, five fingers, have been gripping glass shards for the rest of the day, so how in the name of Hades are her palms almost clean?

"What's all the dust in here, anyway?" Dabi asks, tries to fix the bar stool and when he succeeded in doing so, propped himself on one.

"I don't know," Kaede admitted. "Mr. Compress, how many days has it been since I locked myself up in here?"

"Not a day," Mr. Compress answers, scanning the entirety of the mess. "More of half a day, really."

Time is murky. She knows that most of all, but this is an odd thing to come by and before she figures out this life, she has to figure what happened with all these and why there's a strange tugging at somewhere inside of her.

As if she's ready to implode, to crush sugar cubes beneath her fists and taste the sweet taste of life. Like pouring sunshine unto her throat.

"Maybe it's a quirk," Mr. Compress suggests, but he's met with a deadpan from Kaede.

"My quirk is identifying how much time it will take for someone to die," Kaede announces and dusts her pants of the dirt, or at least tries in vain. She's skipped showers now, so she must be really malodorous. "That's obviously unrelated to dust."

"Well..." Mr. Compress began and inspected the 'dust' on the floor with his gloved thumbs. "This looks like sand to me."

"Maybe your quirk identification was wrong all along...?" he suggests. "There's lime in here too, although the particles are more minute than sand."

Kaede tries to think about it as she props herself in one of the bar stools, three paces away from Dabi just to be sure, and she shrugs in the end. "How can time relate to sand and lime?"