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Her clock kept adding time, shifting from minutes to hours. The constant countdown, the one she crafted so long ago, branded on her brain. May moved between patients as their time increased in her head. Red was fading, but not fast enough.

Thirteen was difficult to appropriately assess due to the positioning of their injuries, but she managed to the best of her ability. May went in with smaller syringes, injecting around the intact tissues. The cells were repopulating.

"Well, Thirteen." May replaced the bandage while she spoke. "You may have some minor scarring on your back. I've tried to mitigate it to the best of my ability. Your arms will have minimal scarring, if any at all."

It was more for herself rather than the patient.

"Infection risk is low; everything should heal properly. You should be good now."

May moved back to Aizawa. She managed to finish the arms, using a combination of bandages and stitching to facilitate the sealing of his skin. Most of his head had healed on its own. Blood was still caked in his hair, scattering the white pillow with dark scarlet flakes.

When May ran her gloved fingers across his head, she no longer felt movement. With the assistance of a flashlight, she was able to see no broken skin. No more fresh blood. A sigh escaped her lips; she pushed back his hair on his forehead to get a better look at his eyes.

"If I weren't nice, I'd shave all of this," she said aloud, her eyebrows raised. "Ever heard of a haircut, grouch?"

His right eye was much worse than his left. The time she spent working on his face moved into the late hours of the night. Syringe after syringe, precise cut after precise cut, bandage after bandage. After the intense portions of her work, where anatomical forms and specific bone structures littered her brain, she talked to the two pro-heroes in front of her.

"You know, I don't understand you," she had said, using dissolvable stitches on the heavily injured part of Aizawa's eye. "Got some sort of emotional constipation?"

May lifted her eyes to the ceiling for a moment, then returned to the task. "I guess I do too. Whoever said feelings were important, right?"

No response. Expected.

The tools in her hand stopped moving, and May stared at the injured man. None of the typical lines on his face appeared. It was all soft against the harshness of the sterile white pillowcase. Aizawa put his entire life on the line for his students.

He was lucky he didn't gain any brain damage, which May had tested for. But he took that chance. Willing to give up everything for them. If he didn't—

May wasn't sure where the kids would be. Certainly not at home in their beds, sleeping soundly. Her hands moved again, picking up where they dropped off.

"You both did save those kids," May said quietly. "Without you, they may be where you are instead."

May quickly glanced at Aizawa's expression, expecting him to be staring back. He wasn't. So, she started speaking again.

"I can understand the pressure of being a pro-hero. You mess up and someone... someone gets hurt. Or someone hurts someone else. I guess we're not so different, are we? Pros and Doctors?"

The machines hummed.

"I guess what I don't understand is... everything else about being a hero. You're saving people... but destroying so much at the same time. It's kind of ridiculous, don't you think? Sometimes... I wonder if heroes even care about civilians at all. If it's all about the name, the publicity, the fame, the glory..."

No answer. May pursed her lips. It felt wrong to say something like that to them. Biting back her words, she shook her head.

"Whatever, that was stupid. Of course you care... otherwise, what's the point? But... I guess that's the same about doctors. Not all of us are in it to help people. Some of my classmates were proof of that."

More silence. She continued to ramble. Her thoughts spewed out over the sounds of her metal instruments clicking together.

"It just seems like every day the hero costumes and the comicality of it all are becoming more and more absurd. Sometimes I feel like their only use is for the pictures. Maybe that's because we're in a quiet period of villain activity, right? Well... maybe not anymore. I mean, your hero costume isn't bad... You wear practically the same thing every day. Please tell me you do laundry, don't you?"

May peered over at her patient's closed eyes and relaxed expression. No movement, no deadpan response.

"That was stupid too. The costumes serve a legitimate purpose. I know, I know. And you have to do laundry... unless you're a heathen. Are you a heathen, Aizawa? If you are, I can't fix that. Hm... Do they teach life skills at this school? I'd assume not... Maybe they do. I don't know, it's a stupid notion. Ignore me."

She continued stitching, sighing into her mask as a sudden thought burst into her mind. Damn, I totally forgot about that. Her voice echoed in the empty room again.

"I made my friend mad, and she hasn't responded to my messages. What should I do, you two? Aren't heroes supposed to have all the answers?"

Nothing.

"What about you, MEBO-1? What do you think I should do?"

"Requesting advice portal. Terminate scanning?"

"No, no, wait. That was... That was rhetorical."

I need to talk to real people... er... awake people.

May leaned away from her handiwork. She tilted her head, holding Aizawa's face to examine what she fixed before she completed bandaging. The skin was pulling tighter, bloody flesh disappearing by the minute.

There are going to be scars. My quirk can only do so much. Maybe continued treatment can help them fade away? I've never tried that before... Maybe... I'll have to research my quirk some more.

May looked to her robotic partners. "Treatment plan outcome for T-Two?"

"Treatment plan successful."

The clock started dropping numbers. Now in the green.

May removed her magnification glasses. The time on her watch read three in the morning. When she got to her feet, she stared down at both the hospital beds. Everything was stable.

The bandaging process took another hour and provided the final layers for healing. May examined every injury again. They were no longer fleshy mounds of disintegrating tissues. New skin crawled across exposed areas, slow but steady like threads tugging together to mend a ripped tapestry.

"MEBO-1, save data. Begin dictation." May flopped into her office chair, pulling down her mask and removing her gloves for the last time that evening. She aimed for the trashcan and missed it.

She opened the computer and recorded the data as MEBO-1 spewed everything about the day. Her head lulled, but her fingers kept typing. The reports would be completed, or she would personally kick her own ass. Typos a-plenty, she thanked autocorrect.

The sun was rising by the time she finished.

"Hey, MEBO-2?" May started her question, her head resting on the keyboard.

"Waiting for command from Kataoka May."

"How hot is the sun?"

"Sun is not found in the database. Would you like an extended search?"

"No, that's okay."

The bright orange light bled into the room, illuminating her patients. It cast warmth, even though her body was cold. An array of colors painted the sky. She wondered if it was real or not. Pinks, purples, even an ink color cloud.

Her robots, silver in color, were outlined with a yellow glow. May felt the corners of her mouth quirk upward.

"Hey, MEBO-2?"

"Waiting for command from Kataoka May."

"Begin 'wake up, doctor' protocol at seven-thirty."

May closed her eyes, her elbow wrapping around her forehead.

"Hey, MEBO-2 and MEBO-1?"

"Waiting for command from Kataoka May."

"Thank you."

The internal clock, continually running, finally hit quadruple zeros. Bright green flashed like a morning alarm and faded away.

—

You must've suffered so much.

May's darkened dream state brightened. Blinding white halls filled her vision as a memory resurfaced. It knocked against the dam of her brain, spilling and flooding right into her sleep. Her feet struck the tile floor, sliding as she turned corners.

I did everything... Why? Why? Why is it still red?

Everything had a glow around it, hazy. May felt that same feeling she had earlier, awake. Except her clock wasn't green. It was red and blinking furiously. May sprinted down the hallway.

She choked, clawing at her chest as she ran. The tile grew and grew. She couldn't catch up. May's body ached, and she was a sinking ship. The hull had massive gaping holes. Her sails, tattered and ripped from the wind, collapsing.

But she couldn't stop.

And the fluorescent lights never stopped flickering, the hallway never-ending. May stumbled and grappled for the door just ahead. Her fingers curled around the cold silver of a doorknob and when she twisted her wrist to open it—

Time's up.

—

A pinch caused May to turn her head toward the source. She blinked, brilliant green lights staring back at her. The robot had a singular arm outstretched, which prodded May again.

"Wake up protocol is a success. Good morning, Kataoka May."

May sat up in her chair and wiped her glasses on her tank top. It was a mess. She was a mess. Her lab coat sat in a ball on the floor, covered in dirt and dried blood. Getting up from her chair, she picked it off the floor and examined it.

This is going to need like five washes. Six? Is that overkill? My head is killing me. I haven't eaten anything in a while. Maybe that's it. Everything is a little blurry—

"You're finally awake!"

The cheerful and friendly voice caused the lab coat in May's hands to go fluttering to the floor. She turned her head toward the hospital beds. Thirteen was sitting up and sipping on a capped cup of water May had put on each of their tables. Aizawa didn't move. He remained asleep, even with the noise.

May approached Thirteen, a stethoscope in hand. "How're you feeling? You should've woken me up as soon as you woke up."

"You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to bother you," Thirteen said while May gathered some vital checks. "My back and my arms... Doctor... they're completely healed. How?"

The words stumbled across Thirteen's tongue.

"My quirk causes cell regeneration and reparation. You may have some scarring, but it should feel like nothing happened at all," May said, pressing the stethoscope to Thirteen's chest. "Take a deep breath."

Thirteen did as they were told. May listened intently, and everything sounded clear. She made a note of the checks. Normal and healthy.

"How late did you stay up?" Guilt plagued Thirteen's voice.

"That's not important," May replied quickly as she inspected Thirteen's injury site.

There was nothing there. The new skin shone underneath the overhead lights, soft and smooth. Light pink scars had raised themselves in some spots, but mostly, it was clear. May peeled off the bandages and replaced it, hoping to protect the new layer for a little while.

"Are all of the students alright?" Thirteen asked after a brief period of silence.

"Yes. Miraculously, only one was injured," May said, her focus entirely on the bandaging process. "You should be patting yourself on the..."

Oh shit, really, May?

May stopped talking, and Thirteen managed to chuckle. "I wish it felt like that, Doctor. Though this... This has shaken me."

"I've been told this was a first-time occurrence."

"Whoever told you that is right."

May finished her work and looked to Thirteen. Their eyes were distant, probably running the events of the previous day over and over in their head. May had only spoken to Thirteen once or twice. She didn't expect to be sitting next to them as they struggled to grip their reality.

May couldn't help the concerned feeling emerging from her chest and cascading across her features.

"I'm worried," Thirteen said, reaching May's gaze. "There were so many of them... Not enough of us. I've been in pretty hopeless situations. But that main villain... He was so determined to crush everyone. Even kids."

May tried to think of a good response. What would her mother say? What would her friends say to her?

It was challenging for May to piece together the right string of words, like failing to craft a beaded bracelet. Usually, she'd forget to knot the end of the string. Beads would pour onto the floor, scattering like her fragmented replies.

"But," May started. "None of the kids were harmed. No one died. You all did so well—"

"What about next time?" Thirteen interrupted. The insecurity of the pro-hero caught May off guard. "What if we can't protect them? You didn't see it. That thing... it challenged All Might."

Thing?

"There won't be a next time," May softened the edges around her words. "At least, not like this one."

"How do you know?"

The panic in Thirteen's voice made May wonder what happened. She caught snippets from Midoriya and All Might's conversation. It sounded... a lot less serious coming from the mouth of a teenager. Like a quick jaunt through a haunted house.

Watching Thirteen's shaking fingers made it feel— bad.

May's brows furrowed, and her answer was small, filled with uncertainty. "I don't."

A silence fell on the room again. May explained to Thirteen that they should stay for a little while longer so she could monitor them. They obliged but didn't say much else. May scrolled through her emails and finalized Thirteen's report.

Nezu had sent a message stating that school would resume the next day. He framed it around the rainy weather outside and the media barrage, saying that the safety of U.A.'s students was at the top of their list.

A little later, Aizawa stirred.

May got to her feet quickly, and Thirteen sat up in their bed. The machine had run all through the night, checking his stats every so often, so he was alright. But any sudden movements would be painful.

"What... What happened?" Aizawa demanded, sitting up too fast. His body swayed, and he put a hand up to his forehead, gritting his teeth. His voice was gravelly, harsh, and slicing through silence, compared to Thirteen's earlier.

"Aizawa, listen, you need to lay down." May reached out her hands, hovering right below his shoulders. Thirteen was on their feet, ready to assist from the other side. "You're not ready for that kind of movement... Wait—"

"No, I don't remember... Students. Where are my students? Thirteen?"

"They're fine, Eraser," Thirteen said. "You need to listen to Dr. Kataoka and lay down."

"They're all okay?" He slowly laid back down. It sounded like he had a hard time believing it.

"Yes. One of your students broke free and found us," May said, carefully monitoring the way he moved. She could tell that the slivers of memories were coming back to him.

"Iida," he muttered to himself. May moved the bed electronically so it could be more upright. Thirteen returned to their bed, sitting on the edge.

"Is it alright if I check your injuries?"

There was a brief pause. May watched his gaze turn toward his arms and his jaw flex. He blinked a couple of times and flinched at himself.

It must hurt his eyes. My quirk is taking its time on them, but it makes sense. They were so incredibly damaged.

"Yeah, whatever," Aizawa said, quiet and with gritted teeth.

May checked his arms first, unwrapping them to see the damage that remained. To her surprise, it was healing well. The scars were much more pronounced than they were on Thirteen.

"This isn't going to feel great, so I apologize in advance," May said and pressed down on the injury site. It wasn't quite firm enough yet, and she could see the muscle underneath tense. It would need more time.

Aizawa tried his best to hide the pain, but May could see the slight tension along his jawline. Some places it was more obvious than others. When May wrapped her fingers around his elbows, it caused an immediate response. She did have to go in and manually replace disintegrated pieces. It was going to be a little bit tougher than Thirteen's injuries.

His face and head were next. The skull was fine. She attributed it to the injection she gave on-scene, which traveled up the spinal cord and directly connected to the head. While inspecting everything, she was softly muttering to herself.

She only took a peek at his eye injury. The skin was still mending itself, struggling to bridge the divide of tissues. The stitches were helping. Every time May moved, Aizawa did too.

"I know that wasn't fun, but I'm done," May said, leaning back and sitting down on her rolling stool.

"It's fine."

Aizawa was doing his best to play off the pain. He didn't skip a beat regarding questions, however. "Do they know how it happened?"

"I don't think so," May said, and Thirteen peered over to listen. "They're trying to understand everything. The police force is already involved. Um... they mentioned a new group of villains."

"I... I didn't recognize any of them. Did you, Thirteen?" Aizawa asked, turning his head toward the other hero, who shook their head in response.

May tried to recall what the detective had said after wandering in. Nothing came to mind. She was so busy with her two patients, only pieces of out-of-context information appeared in her head.

"I wasn't really briefed on the whole situation. Two others were injured, but they've already been healed."

"Four injured?" Aizawa's monotone question had a hint of confusion behind it.

"Yes," May said. She walked toward the lab coat that was still on the floor and picked it up. There was a small pause before she heard his voice again.

"Were you here all night?"

Why does everyone keep asking me these sorts of questions? What did they think I was going to do? Leave my patients and go home?

May had her back turned, hanging the dirty coat on the wall. "Of course, who else do you think monitored your condition? It's my job."

Aizawa didn't say anything else. It was a strange way to end the conversation, but it was the least hostile of all of them so far. Usually, he got the last word in.

After seeing them both awake, May's body started to actively relax. So much so, she forgot how badly she had to go to the bathroom.

Her reflection in the mirror was an absolute travesty. Her white tank top had small prickles of blood from her careless drawing on the bus. Dirt and various other splotches of red could be seen too.

The new shoes she had bought for the job were utterly wrecked. She rubbed her eyes and sighed. Well, it couldn't get any worse than that. She looked like she had played ten years' worth of dodgeball in a construction pit. Well, maybe not that bad.

But it felt like that to her.

I look like I came from a warzone. Why didn't anyone say anything?

She almost didn't believe how poorly she looked. After washing her face, neck, and hands in the bathroom sink, she rummaged around in her bag for little essentials she had. If only she'd brought a change of clothes... That was going in her work bag from then on out.

Feeling somewhat refreshed and sure that she didn't smell like dirt any more, May returned to the Recovery room. She called the detective, who had left his number behind while visiting with All Might, and told him that the others were awake. A quick text was also sent to The Principal, who was overseeing repairs on the security system.

"Dr. Kataoka, it's a pleasure to actually speak with you. Though I wish the circumstances were different," Detective Tsukauchi said as he met May at the entrance of the school.

"When a doctor and a detective meet, it's never great circumstances." May gave him a smile. "Otherwise, it's nice to formally meet you too."

Detective Tsukauchi and May had very minimal correspondence throughout the entirety of the event. She wanted to talk to him about fixing that, but the opportunity never arose. Communication felt fragmented with everyone. Instead, she watched him take reports from Thirteen and Aizawa.

What they spoke about seemed unreal, beyond anything that May could've conjured in her mind. She wondered if there had been any delay in their care, whether they would be alive or not. The thought was pushed away as May snacked on some crackers.

Everything settled down as the afternoon was about midway through. May cleared Thirteen to leave, giving instructions and well-wishes. They gave their thanks and even their number, hoping to buy drinks one night to make up for it. May smiled at the friendly gesture but declined. It was her job.

The Principal was constantly texting May, complete with emoticons, asking for updates. She obliged, but otherwise, she opened her computer again. None of the tabs from the previous day had been closed. Her mouse hovered over the Sudoku tab.

She closed it swiftly.

May started reading about rehabilitation therapies and scar reduction, even if she felt like passing out at any moment.

The late afternoon grew closer, and through frequent checks, silent in nature, May cleared Aizawa to return home. Inundated with bandages, he still managed to burn holes in May's skull with his icy stare.

"And this—" May held up two packets of her blood as she held up a brown paper sack. "You can either put it on a cotton pad or drink if any of your injuries are painful to the touch."

"Okay."

As May gathered her items, he read through her extremely detailed instructions. Sure, it was a little much, but she wanted to cover everything. Her thoughts flew while she folded her lab coat.

I wonder how my plant is doing. I'm sure it died again. Damn it, I can never keep them alive. How can I call myself a doctor when I can't even keep a living plant? Is a plant-sitter a thing? Can I do that? Can I—

"Dr. Kataoka?" Aizawa's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes?"

He came a little bit closer, causing May to stand up straighter. Even behind bandages, he was still intimidating to her. She couldn't read anyone, let alone him. Expecting the worst, she braced herself for a harsh comment.

"You've got something on your cheek."

May probably had dirt from the lab coat stuck to her cheek. Or ink. Could it be ink? She was wiping vigorously, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Ha, yeah! I tend to do that, you know? Get things on my face. Not things. Stains. I don't know why it's so annoyin—"

"Stop talking."

He sounded exasperated, his words agitated and forceful. May stopped, knitting together her eyebrows in confusion. There was a brief pause before he spoke.

"Thank you."

May blinked.

What did he say?

It took a moment for her to process, and then the typical spiel poured out. "I—It's my job. I don't need to be thanked."

May turned her back to him, shoveling some papers into her bag.

"Doesn't matter. It takes hard work to keep people from dying."

Aizawa left May alone in the Recovery Room before her gaping mouth could form a response. Though, as the rain battered the window, May rummaged around her bag for an umbrella. Which she had on her, always. It was nowhere to be found. She had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

May sighed, staring up at the ceiling. Draping her lab coat over the top of her bag, she locked up the room and made her way to the entrance. The dark grey sky cast shadows on every piece of furniture. She liked the rain, but not after working for hours on end.

May hesitated as she pressed her hands on the double doors. What did her mother say about the rain again? May racked her brain for the answer, her eyes narrowing in on her muddy shoes.

"Rain is a renewal and nature's way of letting go, sweetheart. Think of yourself as lucky!"

She could see her mother, standing over a hot pot, smiling. Those words had been spoken when May was ten years old. At the time, walking home from school without an umbrella felt like the unluckiest thing on the planet. She had proceeded to cry instead of accepting the wisdom she was gifted.

Alright, then. Renewal and letting go doesn't seem so bad. A little dramatic to tell a ten-year-old, don't you think, Mom? Okay... Let's just get this over with.

May pushed open the double doors and braced herself but, entering the rain was much easier than she thought. The cold sting of each droplet was sweet relief, distracting, and washing away the stress that had built up from the night. She moved through the sea of umbrellas and stepped in puddles without care.

Her apartment was quiet and warm. May rested her back against her front door. The cold rain was so numbing, she didn't realize her fingertips had actually fallen numb. She put her bag down, and it tugged at her arms more than usual.

The headache that knocked on her backdoor entered with a bang. She rubbed her forehead, hissing through her teeth. What was she forgetting? Something... Something...

Double vision caused her couch to spiral. Oh, that's right. Her deficiencies. She hadn't eaten really anything. Her own health was sidelined. All of the blood she drew, the fact she didn't take any of her supplements. Her body was enacting its revenge. And it struck hard.

It hadn't caught up to her until the stress of everything melted away. May's phone buzzed in her hand, and she couldn't even read the name on the screen. A blank glow of white mixed with cherry red. No thoughts would align themselves. She didn't want to accept defeat, but it was inevitable.

Before she could comprehend what was happening, the couch was sideways, and the room waned into darkness.