Maigo- A BNHA OC Story

News

   It is past midnight when the phone rings.

   Shota has just walked through the door of his apartment, the hinges creaking as he swings it closed. He rubs his eyes, stalking over to the kitchen sink and splashing cold water onto his face. He hastily opens one of the cabinets, gabbing a glass and setting it on the table with a low thunk. He checks the bedroom, checking for Maigo's still form. Oh, right. On the nights Shota has hero work, Maigo goes to stay over Hizashi's house.

   Shota's phone buzzes in his pocket, startling him and almost making him drop the glass. That couldn't be Mic, could it? It wouldn't be the first time the blond had called Shota, asking about what Maigo can and can't do, or whether he should read her a bedtime story, or what she can watch on TV. But this is later than either of them should be up. Did something happen? Rubbing his eyes again, he plucks the phone out of his back pocket and checks the caller ID. He blinks a few times to make sure he's reading the name correctly. 

   The police chief?

   Shota hits the 'call' button, stifling a yawn as he speaks into the phone.

   "Hello?"

   "Hello, Eraserhead," the police chief's gruff voice sounds sleepy on the other end. "We've found some information on the girl you're taking care of."

   Shota stands up straight, suddenly very wide awake. His heart rate quickens slightly, and the lighting in the room gets brighter. "This late at night?"

   "We've been combing through files for a little over six hours now," the police chief yawns. "Don't feel bad, we got excited over a lead we discovered earlier this morning."

   Shota nods, knowing the man on the other end can't see him. It's been weeks since the police station started their investigation, and this was the first time he had heard from them. No one had expected to find anything right away, but to have nothing... that was something else entirely. 

   "We've actually taken your advice and began hunting through some medical records," the chief continues. "We finally found something from about two years back."

   Shota grips the edge of the counter, his knees buckling as his butt slams into the cupboards underneath his counter. His breath quickens even more, his heaving only masked by the pounding of his blood in his ears. Two years?! His mind rushes through images of the girl's scarred body, stitching poking out of each arm, each leg, on her stomach, even on her back. TWO YEARS?! He can't bring himself to believe that's true.

   "The hospital has a file on a baby doe," the chief's voice seems far away. "The description matches your girl, and a blurry picture all but confirmed her identity. They did a physical exam, and there are some surgery notes, but other than that, nothing."

   "S-surgery?" Shota's mouth is dry. He wishes that he had actually filled the glass in his hand before answering the chief's call.

   "She had lacerations on almost every appendage on her body, save for her feet, hands, and most of her head. Most of the cuts were deep enough to merit stitches."

   "Uh-huh," Shota is at a loss for words. Two years. He swallows.

   "They determined that she has probably never had a square meal before in her life, that she had never gotten a solid eight hours of sleep, and that she had probably gotten an acute case of hypothermia at some point in her life," the police chief continues to read off his report, his voice monotonous and dripping with exhaustion. "There was something else, too."

   "W-what?" Shota stutters.

   "She was with a woman," the chief states.

   "A woman?"

   "Yeah. And the woman wasn't all too happy about the doctors examining the girl."

   "What do you mean?"

   "Apparently, she was kicking, screaming, basically making a huge scene in front of the poor girl," the chief sighs. "We got involved, she apparently thew a few punches, and we removed her from the room by force."

   Shota's eyebrows furrow. Nothing he is hearing makes that much sense. Why would the authorities remove the woman from the room? Why was she there in the first place? Why would she be making such a scene?

   "Do you have any other information on her?" he asks.

   "She was taken to the station in response to the lacerations found on the girl's body," the chief responds, his voice softening. "The girl was placed in the foster care system once she was released from the hospital, but the woman wasn't charged for anything."

   "Why not?"

   "She somehow managed to escape," the chief yawns. "There is no other record of her at the station."

   The apartment is silent for a few minutes. Shota tries and tries and tries again to regain his composure. Now, more than ever, he wishes Maigo were here, in the next room, sleeping peacefully so he can stride across the room and hold her, rock her back and forth, and whisper into her hair, telling her that everything was going to be alright and that he wouldn't leave her. That last statement sounds even more true the more he hears from the chief.

   "Is there anything else?" His voice is shaky, no matter how hard he tries to steady it.

   "That's all for now," the chief yawns again, clearly ready to call it a night. Shota can't say he doesn't agree with him. "At least now, you might be able to ask her a few more questions."

   "Yeah," Shota's mind is a million miles away.

   "I hope you have a good night, Eraserhead."

   "You too. Thanks, chief."

   "And Eraserhead?"

   "Yes?"

   "Make sure that girl is okay. I've seen too many sketchy cases to pretend that this one could end well."

   Shota sighs, glancing back at the cold, empty bed in the other room. He can still remember the nights where she would wake him up, kicking and screaming, trapped in her own nightmarescape. Usually, he would wonder what could have been so bad that she was affected to strongly. Now, he isn't so sure if he wants to know.

   "I will."