Ma Suledin Ir

Dirthamen lend me wisdom. Falon'Din guide my judgment.

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There are scars on my left arm. They remind me of the eight months I spent in secret. They remind me that I'm alone.

My left arm reminds me that I'm a monster. And monsters don't get to be heroes.

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Chapter 9: Flowers from 1-A

It’s too quiet in here. After all the noise and excitement of battle, it’s too uncomfortable to sit in silence. I look around for the remote to the tv. By the time I find it in the table drawer, the doctor has come in.

“How are you feeling, Ms. Shishigata?” she asks as she begins to go over the same routine as the nurse.

I give her the same answer.

“Considering how much damage your body took, you’re doing very well,” she concludes after prodding my leg, ribs, and arm. Her hand glows warmly when she places it on my back. “It looks like the small puncture in your left lung is healing on its own, which is good news. Your femur and pelvis suffered several fractures, and while we healed the connections, they’ll be weak for a few days, so I’d like you to stay off that leg. Other than that, your ribs and arm have almost completely recovered, and we didn’t find any serious internal damage.”

Hearing her list off everything is a lot to take in. I think of Nomu’s oppressively powerful punch. I really was lucky. If that hit me straight on it would have crushed every bone in my body. And even after that -

Shigaraki’s eyes flash in my mind. Even after Nomu I was lucky Shigaraki didn’t kill me. He definitely would have. I know now that every villain I saw on tv or in fights on the streets were not real villains. They were punks. A real villain is something completely different. In a strange way it’s a relief to know I’m so different from a truly villainous person.

Except . . . The way I felt in that moment when I reached my quirk limit makes me doubt. I didn’t feel like myself. The screaming sound in my head was so much like the screaming madness in Shigaraki’s gaze. Did I somehow inherit my grandfather’s villainous disposition? Is there truly something inherently villainous about my quirk? More than just the way it looks?