► GENESIS — PART II.

❛ My heart, I never feel, I never see, I never know. ❜
☤
A crimson storm loomed over May Kataoka. A ripped scarlet scarf whipped in the wind. His words cut through the sound of rain crashing against the street. She gripped the man's body tighter, keeping a firm hold on his seeping arm. Her mouth contorted, and she grit her teeth.

"Help is on the way! There's nothing you can do!" May yelled, her voice quivering between her words. "I—I won't allow this man to die!"

Stain stared down at her, his boots melting into the inky darkness of the alley. The silver glint of his sword dripped; the bloody remnants of the man already washed away. His cold stare studied her.

She wanted to bolt, but she couldn't.

She couldn't.

She couldn't leave this man.

But what would Stain do? Would it be her end?

The outcome that was always at her back?

The one haunting her since that night in the shadow of Twice. Right back in the same spot. Did she outrun the beast before? Now it was back to claw her down to hell?

Stain used his boot to nudge the side of the man's face. There was a twitch but nothing more than gulping shallow breaths. The man's navy coat soaked, and his jeans were stained by that point. Mud smeared across his cheek.

Then, without malice, Stain spoke. "This is futile."

"I don't care!" May cried, tears bubbling in her eyes. "You—How could you? He didn't—I— Are you going to kill me too?"

He used his sword to prop himself up as he squatted down. His shoulders slumped, but his stare didn't break from her wide eyes. With a slow hand, he reached for his knife lodged in her shattered phone.

"Why won't you answer me!" May's voice ran ragged. She watched him twirl the knife in his hand. "If you're going to do it, do it now! Get it over with!"

Rain poured down her forehead, and she blinked away the heavy drops on her lashes. His face was pale like moonlight but held none of the brilliance. Crevices and shadows stretched into each corner.

"Who are you?" Stain asked. His pitch was a shade above the darkness of night. "Why didn't you just keep going?"

May could hear her broken breathing hissing through her nose and teeth. Why was he keeping her in this state? Was this a game? Playing with his prey?

She could feel the man's heartbeat slipping from her fingers. The bleeding slowed. Maybe if she could—if he could cut her—she could save him. Yeah, that's it. That's what she needed to do. If she could get him to react, get him to do something, maybe then her quirk could work.

Her heart fluttered in her throat. May couldn't differentiate between thunder or the roaring of blood in her ears. The device wedged in her chest throbbed, but that wasn't important. All that mattered was saving the man in front of her.

And her time was running out.

"So, this is how it is?" May felt her eyes flitting between the man and Stain. "You want to make it personal!"

If I make him angry enough, maybe there's a way I can... I can... I can... What did this man do? He doesn't look like a hero. He has a gun. Was he...? It doesn't matter! He deserves a life! I can't let go. I just can't!

Stain's eyes narrowed. "If you're wondering, he did sneak up on me. He was waiting for someone else to come along. He's an armed thief and not worth this much effort."

"You—You're a killer and a liar!" May snapped, but her head tilted, and she broke from under Stain's stare. The black metal on the gun shone from the red stoplight around the corner. "Even if he is, it doesn't matter!"

Muscle and fat crowded May's hands. All of the remaining color left the man, and he gasped like a fish.

Okay, that's—that's ten? Ten respirations? No, I'm counting wrong! I'm fucking it all up! He's—I can't let him go like this!

"The way you're holding that wound." Stain's voice caught her attention again. "You're some sort of doctor or nurse, huh?"

She remembered her mission. Her eyebrows crushed her eyelids, and she bared her teeth.

"What does it matter to you if you're going to get rid of me anyway? You're nothing but a—but a coward!"

Do it. Get angry. Stab me.

"I—I'm not afraid to die!"

She tried swallowing down her racing heart. The veins in her neck bulged, and the strain on her body caught up to her. "Some kind of terror you are—Unable to pick off someone right in front of you! Do you have to sneak up on them? Catch—catch them by surprise? That's weak."

Stain's revealed face remained sullen.

The pouring rain filled in the edges of silence.

"I'm not going to kill you if that's your goal." Stain leaned forward. "You're not a hero or a criminal. You're insignificant to me, and you would mean nothing to my cause. All you're doing is making my night difficult."

A breath caught in her chest. A slower heartbeat pattered against her fingers. When she found her way back to his eyes, they glinted like smoldering embers. It dawned on her. Even if her plan worked, what was she to do? She would be gone before anything could be fixed.

Then they'd both be dead.

Have I—

Failed?

The ounce of summoned strength in her voice melted with each passing word. "How are you so sure?"

"That's easy." Stain leaned back. "You would've done something by now."

Fractured glass finally shattered in her mind. That damn word floated into her head. The only thing she could do, the only thing she was worth in these situations, the inability to do something, only to do—

Nothing.

"You're wrong!" She shrieked. "I—I—Help is on the way. He's... I'm—"

May's words started to run together in a collective jumble of shadowed thoughts. She couldn't hold up this courageous act. She was no lion.

But he was.

Even though his teeth were sharp, even though he could rip out hearts and throats, he saw her for what she was—

A sick and dying animal not worth the bad taste she'd leave behind.

A sob wracked her chest.

"You're prolonging his suffering by doing this," Stain said softly, gesturing to him. "Even if he does survive now, it won't be for long later."

May's vision blurred as she turned her attention downward. The blood flow just—it wouldn't stop. She could see the deep color, red like strawberry wine, flooding through her hands. But May didn't see the man. She saw—

Patient seventy-two.

Toshinori.

T he students.

Thirteen.

Eiko.

Sara.

Daichi...

Riku.

She wheezed.

Aizawa.

"I can save him! I—I've done it before!" Dr. Kataoka screamed. "You're—You're wrong! He—He just has to hang on! I—I can— His heart—If only—"

"Ah, I see." Stain scratched his chin. "This isn't even about him. This is about your ego."

"No!" May retorted, forcing her hands deeper into the wound. She grunted as her chest crumpled in on her; the venous device buried in her chest burned like fire. "Every—human—deserves—a chance."

"That kind of reasoning will get you killed, but not by me." Stain stood tall.

He lifted his sword. "I'll have to make this easier on you, won't I?"

"What—"

The blade was too fast.

"—No!"

Blood sprayed from the man's neck, launching out in one more spark of life. His jugular split open like the juice of a lemon. A sour taste flooded May's mouth. She lifted her hands and hurled herself at his neck. She could feel the pumping beneath her fingers—a fountain that had just lost its water source.

"That wasn't so bad. Now we can pretend to stop caring about this worthless scum," Stain said, kneeling again. He was at eye-level with her while she leaned over his body, using her weight to do anything—to do something—to do the antithesis of nothing—to do the opposite—to stop death.

To prolong life.

"I—won't—let—go," May breathed.

"There was nothing enjoyable about this, but it's what hero society breeds. Nothing is solved. Nothing is saved. Only anguish is left."

"That's not—true—"

"Look at yourself," Stain laughed bitterly. "You're no match for me. Some of us hold too much power, and look at what we choose to do with it."

May's fingers shook, blood flying out in scattered droplets at each tremor.

Stain gripped two blades and tossed them into the man without a care.

Red ties wrapped around the hilts of each little knife flapped in the wind.

May couldn't feel her hands.

"And there will always be those like you," Stain sneered, throwing one more knife through the man's skull with a sickening crack.

"Powerless."

Sirens screamed down the street, and car doors slammed. Voices soon carried into the dripping alley. Stain's face curled, and he squinted, peering down at May one last time. A shadow in the shape of a beast billowed out behind the form of a man.

He didn't touch her.

His blade never even graced her skin.

Yet, as he scaled the brick walls and disappeared into the clouded night sky, May bled out.

Her fingers curled around the man's neck.

No more pulse.

The clock was red.

Warm blood grew cold.

The rain became a trickle.

Even as police crowded around her, peeling her off of his body, her hands wouldn't release. Stuck in a permanent claw. A blanket rested around her shoulders, but she couldn't feel it.

"Miss, come with me," a female officer asked.

May never stopped staring as they covered the man's body with a sheet. His fingers just out of reach from his gun. Even though he had a weapon, he couldn't fix his own fate.

The female officer, brunette hair and gentle brown eyes, studied her and lifted a radio to her mouth. She strung along some words, but they didn't register.

The flurry of activity didn't faze May. She sat in the back of a police vehicle. Her blank stare focused completely on the car seat ahead of her.

She couldn't get the quadruple zeroes to leave her head.

They flashed red, blinking and blaring.

They screamed at her.

Even when they drove her to the police station for questioning, she had nothing to say. The streets passed, one by one, until the clacking of fingers at keyboards surrounded her. Her eyes narrowed while she watched clock hands move into the late evening.

Hours were seconds.

"Can you tell me your full name?" the same female officer's voice drowned out the ringing in her ears—reality set in. May was surrounded by grey walls, grey chairs, grey tables, and a large one-way mirror. "I can't imagine what you're going through, but we need some clarity. You were right there. Anything you can give us, we can use."

In new clothes, with an ice pack and a glass of water, the numbers started fading. But, when her eyes looked past the woman, she saw blood spray the empty brick wall.

"Dr. Mayuri Ito-Kataoka," May whispered, clearing her throat a couple of times.

When she glanced back at the wall, nothing was there.

"Alright, Doctor. We collected your bag at the scene. Are these your identification cards?" the female office slid three small plastic cards across the table. In each picture, May's big glasses stared back at her.

One for the old hospital she worked for.

One for the government.

One for U.A. high school.

"Yes." May nodded. Her eyes started focusing again. The uneasy feeling and haziness of the evening filed itself away deep into the pit of her stomach. Queasiness faded, and May's chest puffed out. She pinched her brows. "I know who did this."

The officer nodded. May could now see the mole below the officer's eye and the tinge of faded red lipstick. "I would like for you to explain in your own words what happened."

May laid her hands out on the table. "I've been staying with a friend here in the city. I had a surgical procedure a couple of days ago and noticed this ramen place a few blocks away. You know how this city can be. I lost my way, and while walking, I—I saw this pool of blood. I'm a doctor, so of course, I was going to step in. He had—four slash marks on his back and a vertical laceration from the—" May motioned to her own arm as if giving a presentation. "Shoulder down to his palm. I didn't think. I just tried to stop the bleeding."

"So, you didn't notice anything strange?"

"How could I?" May said, leaning back in her chair. "This man was bleeding out in the pouring rain. That's when I called the emergency services."

"—We connected your phone's last known location, and that helped us find you—"

"I figured that was the case." May's palms laid flat in front of her. "I knew that his time was precious. That's when Stain appeared."

"And what made you certain it was him?" The officer asked, jotting down notes on a pad.

"The red scarf gave it away. He looked exactly like the drawings on tv." May lifted a finger to her chin. "That's when he shattered my phone."

May's eyes shifted. "And he—he proceeded to tell me that what I was doing was... futile."

"Was that the exact word?"

"Yes."

The pen scratched against the paper.

May took a deep breath.

"To be honest, I don't remember much after that. He finished off the man shortly after he showed himself to me. With the depth of the injuries and the last blow to the skull, there was nothing else I could do beyond that."

"Did you exchange any conversation?"

May locked eyes with the officer. "No. If we did, I was too focused on my patient to say anything coherent."

"Is there anything else that you could possibly remember?" The officer asked, her eyes softening from the stone-cold façade of before.

"I—Actually, he did tell me why he killed this man." May glanced down at the table. "He said that he was a thief and snuck up on him. Like it was out of self-defense. The man had a gun next to him. Whether it was really his or not, I couldn't tell you. I... I'm—"

May lifted a hand to her forehead, blinking twice. "I... I'm so sorry. I'm just so tired."

The officer gave a tight-lipped smile. "I understand."

May's gaze shifted back to the officer. A clipboard rested on top of the officer's knee.

"Everything checks out, Dr. Kataoka. Your call lines up with the timing, and your records currently state that a surgical procedure did happen. We know you couldn't have done this," the officer sighed. "All of the weaponry matches Stain's particular patterns and seem to be from the same set. Our guys are examining the street camera footage. I—"

A knock sounded at the door. May settled back into her chair and sipped on the ice water. The officer got to her feet, cracked the door open, then started a hushed conversation with the man at the other end.

May's eyes danced over the notes, which weren't far off from what the female officer had just explained. The notes were outlined in black ink.

Quirk not a factor.

Psychological damage apparent, but not hysterical. Possible explanation—Doctor, familiar with suffering and extreme violence.

Association with UA High—Consider contact with heroes?

No sign of reluctance or hiding, truthful and in line with events.

Chest pain—obvious, unable to hold a weapon of such size.

Statement for the media: ?

The officer slumped down in her chair once again. "Dr. Kataoka, we've identified the man. He was indeed a criminal wanted for many accounts of aggravated assault and armed robbery."

"I see," May said. "Will I need to issue a statement?"

"No," the female officer said quickly. She crossed something out on the paper. "Since the public is already concerned about our ability to defuse this growing situation, we're going to chalk it up to a suicide or a homicidal dispute between other criminals. He had heavy ties to multiple gangs."

May's face pinched. "What?"

"Yes." The officer's shoulders sank into her sigh. She shook her head, muttering to herself and then signing off. "We'll need you to sign some papers to confirm you won't disclose this information. In exchange, we'll take care of any trauma counseling or referrals needed and keep your anonymity."

"This won't be reported?"

"No, at least, not as a victim of Stain. Besides, he was a criminal."

May glanced at the paper again.

Quirk not a factor.

Psychological damage apparent, but not hysterical. Possible explanation—Doctor, familiar with suffering and extreme violence.

Association with UA High—Consider contact with heroes? No hero involvement (HPSC Jurisdiction).

No sign of reluctance or hiding, truthful and in line with events.

Chest pain—obvious, unable to hold a weapon of such size.

Statement for the media: ?

"We might need you to come back at some point and testify to what you saw. That's unlikely due to the street footage, however. Like I said before, your involvement will remain anonymous. I—" The female officer pulled some more papers out from her clipboard. "I have the papers for you to sign confirming the truth of your words and the legal contract not to say anything."

"Shouldn't I have a lawyer?" May asked, blinking a couple of times.

"I don't see why you'd need one," the officer said. "It's just that you won't hand out any information to the media or anyone involved within the justice industry. It's a pretty average non-disclosure agreement."

Industry?

May scanned the document, which was true to the officer's words. Nothing was incriminating or detrimental to her. She had no reason to share this information with anyone. Why would she? All it did was prove how—how—

Never mind.

May scribbled her name onto the dotted line without looking further. 

She rested the pen, perfectly straight, next to the papers. "This isn't how I imagined the law to work."

"We don't tell people the nitty-gritty of what happens," the female officer said. "You don't tell patients that their blood has a specific trace amount of whatever, right? You just tell them the diagnosis."

"Yes."

"You see, we're not so different. We just hide the testing process a little better. The diagnosis is still the same: the man's dead by the hands of another." The officer gave a small smile. "Stain won't get the media attention he loves so much from this. We won't allow it."

The officers had a couple more tests and forms for May to fill out, which she didn't bother reading. She needed to get out of there as fast as possible. They kept her clothes, they kept her bag, but everything else not bloodied and tarnished returned to her hands.

"As soon as you get a new cell phone, contact me. My name is Officer Moto. I'll make sure we have everything on file," Officer Moto said, shaking May's hand.

May mirrored her smile.

And when the night air breezed through her hair again, and the female officer hailed a cab for her, she exhaled. The face of the officer became fuzzy as May gazed out the window. She watched the police headquarters disappear further into the sea of neon lights and crawls of people.

"Where to?"

"404 Hoko Street."

"Yes, Miss."

The police station no longer felt real. May's body molded to the cab seat as she tried to banish any incoming thoughts. But her usual dam wasn't working. She kept piling up stones, only for them to wash away into the despair seated in her chest. Her nails dug into the seat the closer they got to Midnight's apartment.

She—she—

She lied to police officers.

They had an entire conversation.

May brought her nails to her teeth, starting to chew.

She knew his motivation—what he wanted. Why didn't she tell them? Why did she keep it to herself?

Her eyes flitted back and forth.

And the police had no idea. That officer clearly didn't know. She wasn't guilty. No, she wasn't guilty of murder.

Or was she? Could she have saved him? If she would've been faster—stronger—more knowledgeable—

She scrambled out of the cab as soon as it slowed to a stop, throwing the fee at the driver, and hurried into the building. Up the stairs, yes, up the stairs and then—and then—through the door.

The keys shook in her hands.

What if that was someone else? Someone closer? Not just a criminal or a villain?

At the hands of Twice?

May forced her entire weight against the door.

Her hands clawed at her eyes as she sank to the floor. The lies, the fucking job, her family, friends, everyone— Someone's going to die.

Someone's going to die.

Someone's going to die.

Someone's going to die.

May peered up through her blurry red eyes.

—

A cold day in the early months of December during her medical school rotations arose from the prison of her mind. It was like any other day. Mayuri had started her rotations.

"Dr. Kataoka? Can we have a word?" one of the charge nurses grabbed Mayuri's coat.

"Hm?" she asked, turning her intense stare from a chart toward the woman.

"It's about your patient."

Mayuri gave the nurse a goofy grin. "I've got a lot of those."

As soon as she snorted and opened her eyes to see the teary eyes of the nurse, her eyebrows furrowed. "What is it?"

"Patient—Patient seventy-two." The charge nurse sniffled. "Um, they—she—she was pronounced dead at eleven this morning."

The clipboard clattered on the ground.

Patient seventy-two.

During her rotations on the pediatric oncology ward, patient seventy-two was a long-term stay. A twelve-year-old girl with bright eyes that burned with the passion of a thousand suns. Her parents ebbed and flowed but fell apart throughout the course of her treatment. Mayuri found herself floating into her room more often than not.

Mayuri's feet pounded down the hallway.

"Dr. Kataoka! Wait!"

It didn't matter. Her body slammed against the metal doors of the basement. She clambered down the stairs, skipping two or three stairs as she sprinted through the door after door.

"Her condition isn't getting much better."

Mayuri shot a glare at her classmate. "You know, miracles do happen. We shouldn't talk this poorly about patients."

"Whatever, Kataoka. You take a look at the labs yourself and try not to stay up all night."

The metal doorknob stared her down from ahead. Her footsteps echoed, slamming against the tile floor. Outstretching an arm, her fingers clawed the cold silver, twisting her wrist.

The cold air of the morgue blasted her coat.

Her wet face didn't stop her. A body bag laid on a metal table.

Mayuri approached the black bag, her fingers shaking as she unzipped it.

Soft brown eyes peered up toward the ceiling.

She rummaged in her coat pocket.

I can fix this.

Yes, I can.

I can fix this.

A silver scalpel rested in her right hand, and she laid it against her left palm, carving from her pointer finger down to her wrist.

"Mayuri! Stop!"

Nakamura's voice collided with the emptiness of the morgue.

"Get away, Nakamura! I can fix this!" Mayuri yelled through her tears, continuing to slice down her wrist. She threw the scalpel to the ground, holding her wrist out. Blood bubbled up, starting to run down her lab coat.

Nakamura launched himself forward, landing a large palm tightly onto her wrist. His ice-blue eyes shone in an intense stare. "What the fuck is going on!"

"Let me go! It's—It's my quirk! I can... I can fix this... I can—You just—I can—"

"It doesn't matter!" Nakamura screamed. "She's dead, and there's nothing you can do to change that! Your wrist—um—I... Listen, we're not gods or heroes or whatever the fuck! That's—That's not what we are! We can't—Mayuri—I—Are you listening? We have to—"

And as May collapsed to the morgue floor, that was it.

A meeting with the Dean followed.

After a two-week vacation, business as usual.

No one knew.

Nakamura kept a secret well.

Too well.

And May never forgot the first loss she ever experienced.

Death was now on her time, and everything she ever did was to avoid the glassy horizon she saw staring up at her from those dead girl's eyes.
—

No one's going to die.

May clambered to her feet.

There was only one option now, and even though she didn't like it, it was the only way to add more time to the clocks of those around her.

She shuffled into the bathroom, scissors in hand. Her black hair was crunchy from the blood and mud of the street.

She took her ponytail like Twice did. And started hacking at her hair with the scissors. Black strands fell like ash into the sink below. Once her ponytail was free, she stared at the years of hair growth laying in the porcelain bowl.

Her fingers released the scissors, and she pressed her palms against the cold bathroom counter. May peered up at her reflection and the frazzled chin-length bob that now showed itself. Her bare shoulders were bruised.

The grey hairs hiding behind a wall of ebony showed themselves—years of stress collected at her crown. Dried blood rested on her cheek like it was meant to be there. Her chest ached and burned, but the sensation hadn't knocked her down until that moment.

Instead of listening, she moved toward her bedroom.

The burner phone found itself in her hand.

She never thought of herself as desperate, but as the curtain closed on her old dream, she knew it was the only way. It didn't matter that she was going to be a medical hero. It didn't matter that she was supposed to be on the outskirts.

May Kataoka only saw vengeance in her future. Like life and death, the justice scales had tipped too far. And the only way to rectify such imbalance was to fix it herself.

➥

DR. KATAOKA ORIGIN ➤ COMPLETE... | ... |

SKIP TO

➤ TRAINING?

NOMU?

REAPERS?

UNIT 811?

➥

www.livesp1ll.com |... |... |

STREETCAM FOOTAGE OF EXECUTION IN HOSU LEAKED INVOLVING HERO KILLER

#gore #blood #Stain
50k Views

dogcoin: man, this shit sucks. you can't see any of their faces or the weapons
bannnan: wtf is she doing
renslay: why didn't he just kill that lady? Where's All Might?
        ➥ allmightsbiggestfan01: DON'T TALK ABOUT ALL MIGHT THAT WAY!!!!! He's busy. :)
allmightsbiggestfan01: @speedracer9090 @pinkmochi55 she looks familiar, right?

— hey all! I hope you're all doing okay! I had to take a break due to a lot of mental health problems but I'm going to work on a schedule again. I still see all comments and they were a huge motivating factor to start writing again. I love writing and want to continue going. Thanks for sticking around. You guys really are amazing. —