❛ I did not choose him,
he did not choose me. ❜

☤

THE BUILDINGS BLURRED as I tried to figure out what to do. The villain had his hand right around my waist, my body thrown with ease over his shoulder. The yells of law enforcement created an even more chaotic environment. I couldn't move.

Memories of my experiences with Stain and Twice replayed over and over again. It happened so fast. I'm not safe anywhere! Why does this keep happening to me?!

Think, May! Do something!

The villain cackled to himself, people dodging out of his way. He was carrying something in his other hand but I couldn't see, pressing my arms against his shoulder to try to ease his grip.

"Let— me go!" My teeth were grit, but I knew it was no use. His laugh continued, shaking his head while running.

"Nope! Did I mention I was sorry? Because I am," the villain rambled, peering over his other shoulder.

I tried to focus, not trying to think of the faces that haunted my nightmares. I needed to find a way out, a way to escape from his tight hold. Without much thought, I hit my elbow on the side of his head. This threw off his balance, his body skidding a little too far to the right.

The villain jolted, definitely not because of me, like he tripped over something. My body kept going at his speed, launching off of his shoulder. I rolled against the concrete first, not having much time to protect the rest of my body, and straight into the side of a brick building. The pain delay gave me a brief moment of peace, but it was too short.

Everything erupted into a fire sharp pain, especially my head. My glasses were a distance away from me and I could reach them. I tried to use my elbows to prop myself up, looking down at my hands. They were bloody, after skidding across the concrete. Tears of pain stung my eyes. Why is it always a street?

I looked back to my left. I could see a couple of shapeless figures, the trauma to my head causing distortion. A darker figure zipped through the air, using vantage points to strike with a longer object. There was another blob, struggling to untangle itself. A group of navy figures rushed forward.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You're bleeding."

The voice was familiar. Where had I heard it before? It was slithering and cold. Malice entangled in a softer tone. I could only see the outline of the figure. I didn't know what to say, my brain dogged by the obvious concussion I had gained.

The figure leaned forward, grabbing my hand. They ran a finger along the scraped palm of my hand.

"I think this is it, Master. We will have to test it."

My memory was hazy. There was a scraping sensation on my skin, like collecting a sample. I could barely see anything, not even noticing what was happening to me. Everything was jumbled together like a mess of colors, bleeding across a page.

"Who are you?" I asked, not sure if I had already asked.

"You'll see soon enough."

In my head, it was like the figure vanished in thin air. In reality, they probably walked away without causing a scene. My brain skipped around. It wasn't long before I saw more figures standing over me.

"Miss, are you alright?" A voice sounded that I didn't recognize.

"I— I think? I can't see anything," I said, sitting up on the sidewalk. The world began to spin and I put a hand to my forehead. I— I think I'm— concussed? Do I know where I am?

"Dr. Kataoka! Are you alright?!"

I recognized that voice. I felt my glasses adjusted on my face, hands replacing them to their rightful spot. The fingers that grazed behind my ear might've lingered longer than I realized but I wasn't thinking about anything else. I was trying to find my bearings again. A hand was on my shoulder, tighter than I expected. My gaze landed on blood shot eyes.

"Aizawa?" I looked at the other first responders, coming to again.

"I'm here."

There was a pause and his head turned toward the other people surrounding me. I'm here. He's here. It's okay. His voice sounded over the chaos of onlookers, peeking at me.

"Yes, she hit the ground and the side of the building. I'll watch for signs of other internal injuries. Officer, I think this is an isolated incident with no prior connection. We happened to be—"

He started speaking with the other law enforcement agents, but I was so focused on trying to decipher what happened, their words were lost on me.

It was an ebb and flow of memory loss and gain. One minute there was a villain, then my hands stung, then someone approached me? No, no. I hit the building, then my hands? Was that after?

Without anymore thought, I was helped up. I swayed, regaining my balance from the dizziness. Everything began to straighten out. My arm was held on to by Aizawa, steadying me while he continued addressing officers. I finally zoned into what they were saying.

"— I'll accompany her. The media will be all over this soon; it's best if we leave now. I'll contact you with the incident report form later. You know where to find me if you have any questions."

He was much more professional than I expected. He had leadership skills and articulated his thoughts to the law enforcement officers in a smooth manner. I was fighting the pain, when it dawned on me.

"My bag. My bag, do you have it? My phone— my notes— Blood, uh, ow—"

"I have it here," he interrupted my panicked spill and we left the crowd, taking a back way to my apartment that I had never seen. "Focus on walking straight. We need to get to your apartment without drawing extra attention."

"Why does my hand hurt so bad?" My thoughts were running together, not many things making much sense. Like the two arms that guided me with such caution.

"Your hand?"

I unfurled my palm, staring down at the blood bubbling up from the deep incision. Like an instinct, I pressed my other hand onto the injury, trying to ease the bleeding.

"How the hell did that happen?" He asked, more questions following but I couldn't focus.

"I— I can't remember."

I didn't recognize anything around me, but he knew where he was going. My cheek burned with a light abrasion. The cloud that covered my mind never left and I didn't focus again until I saw the number on my apartment. The key jingled and Aizawa opened the door without any struggle.

He's much better at that than I am. I sat down on my couch, hearing the sink run. I stared forward at the wall, exhaustion hitting me hard. I felt a warm compress on my hand.

"Do you remember anything at all?"

"There was this villain and he grabbed me," I said, tilting my head. The picture on the wall garnered all of my attention. When did that picture become crooked? "Why does my hand hurt so bad?"

"You've asked me that already," he sounded exasperated and then muttered something I couldn't hear. "Do you know how you got this cut on your hand?"

"There's a cut on my hand?" I asked, my gaze turning back to him. He was examining my hand, holding my palm upwards. One of his hands was underneath, gentle.

"You hit your head pretty hard, didn't you?"

"I think," I put the other finger to my chin. His hand on mine reminded me of something. What is it? What happened?

"I know you're thinking about something."

His eyes were narrow, his hand still holding mine up. The white washcloth had a light pink tint from soaking up all of the blood. I rubbed my head. It hurt to think, but I needed to know.

"A— someone," I started, trying to uncover the haze. "Testing?"

"Testing? Testing what?"

"I— I don't know," I said, the adrenaline of the incident wearing off. My whole body began to ache, becoming less dull and more sharp. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. This wasn't your fault."

The softness of his voice eased my concern. He stood up, bringing his hands back to himself. I pulled my feet up to the couch, grabbing a pillow. It was my stress response. I held it tight around my chest.

"Why does this keep happening to me?"

It was more of a whisper to myself. It was a combination of pain and feeling helpless. Maybe even the fog over my mind. There was a sigh from the only other person in the room. He sat down on the couch next to me, his arms hanging over his knees.

"You're not a pro-hero and you're spending time with pro-heroes. I told Nezu it was a mistake to hire someone without a hero background."

We sat in silence as I tried not to fall asleep. I knew it wasn't good to sleep while having a possible concussion. I wondered why we didn't go to a hospital because that seemed like the most logical course of action. I had turned on the television, the news playing.

He took the remote and flipped it to another channel, a game show. I rested my chin against the pillow, watching him scroll through his phone. His fingers were flying, obviously talking to a lot of people. I noticed something about Aizawa in that moment.

Before he would send anything, he would read it to himself. His lips moved in the smallest way, as if deciding it was something good to send. He's not so intimidating when he does that. It was the only thing that made me feel better. Every time he would look up, I would return my gaze to the television.

At least an hour passed and I never knew what to say to him. Aizawa got up from the couch, his hands hanging from his pockets.

"Are you going to be alright on your own?"

I nodded. "Yes. Um, thank you."

"It's why I walk with you everyday. For this reason. You need to find a way to protect yourself, May," his voice had that harsher tone again. "I can't be there every time."

"I know that."

Aizawa was right. I was doing my best to learn my weapon of choice. Did he know about that? I don't think so. I watched him physically exhale. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then released. Man, do I seriously stress him out this much? I'll be okay! He needs rest.

"Do you want something to take home? I have some snacks here. I bet you're hungry," I said, trying to find ways to make it up to him. "Or— maybe, some water?"

There was a silence. When I got to my feet, I stopped. I didn't remember what I got up to do.

"What was I saying again?"

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" He asked again.

"Yes," I said, but it was phrased in more of a question. Then I nodded my head, more so convincing myself.

"Call me if you need anything. Yamada is aware of the situation, but I wouldn't count on him. He doesn't have a great sense of urgency."

"Do you want something to take home?" I asked again. Aizawa paused at the doorway, his hand hanging onto the door knob. I put a couple of fingers against my lips, my voice more hushed.

"I already asked that, didn't I? I'm sorry."

"Goodnight, Dr. Kataoka."

Is that amusement again? At my detriment? I blushed and turned my back to the door, hearing it shut.

The rest of the evening I tried to gather my thoughts about what had happened. My head really took a beating. It was rare I didn't remember anything like I did. A hot shower helped with my growing headache and aching body.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring down at my floor. I'm so weak. Why? Everyone can fight with such ease. How did Recovery Girl survive this? I curled up on top of my bed, finding comfort in the ginormous tee shirt that Midnight managed not to swipe.

Instead of searching my memory for the right things, I scrolled through my phone. It was a distraction. I realized how many people I had grown to know. It wasn't like this before. I never depended on others. It was hard enough to let people in.

Maybe it was the concussion I had gained, but my fingers landed on a name in my contacts I hadn't seen in years. Hiroto. It was a time bomb. He was the last man I put everything into. The last person that I had dated. Besides, Nakamura.

My love life was never perfect. With Hiroto, it was. For a while. I thoughts spiraled into my first year of medical school. I had so many hopes and dreams for myself. I thought I was going to advance the medical community beyond bounds.

A pipe dream that I poured every ounce of being I had into. I started my relationship with Hiroto one year prior to my medical education. I supported him through everything and in turn, he did the same. Until I started my true education.

Everything I had went into becoming a doctor. All of my emotional energy, all of my time. I would be at the library until the late hours of the night. I was wrapped up in my education, in myself, in everything. So much so, I left Hiroto behind.

My sweet boyfriend. With orange hair that was golden in the sunlight, his bright and happy smile that ignited my soul. It was my fault for not being more attentive. I broke his heart and mine.

The last interaction we had replayed in my memory as my finger shook against the phone. It was a day where I had spent most of the time shadowing and interacting with patients. I was exhausted. It was rare Hiroto was awake when I got home. He was sitting alone at our barren kitchen table, a single light on.

I had thrown down my bag without care. He avoided my touch when I had gone in.

"What's wrong? You're never awake when I get home," I had asked.

"That's why I want to talk to you," I remembered the strain in his voice. The unsettling feeling deep in my stomach. "We had dinner plans tonight, May."

"That was tonight?" I squeezed my eyes shut. "I— I was so tied up at the hospital. I'm so sorry, Hiroto. I'll make it up to you."

There was a silence. I grabbed for his hand but it slipped out of mine.

"That's your excuse every time. You've missed every plan, every attempt I've made to find a moment, a second with you. You even missed my brother's wedding that was last weekend," he shook his head at me.

"You never told me about that, I had no idea," I remembered saying. I knew he had told me that, but I was deep in denial at that time. "My work is always on the forefront of my mind. I can never remember, I... I'm sorry."

"You don't care enough about us, do you?" Hiroto's teeth grit through his words. "I have tried everything. I never see you anymore. You never respond to messages; you are never there!"

"Yes, I am! I'm here, I'm always here for you," The realization of his feelings dawned on me. "It's so important what I'm doing, I have to do everything I can to be—"

The scoff that escaped from Hiroto's lips caught me off guard, I remembered taking a step back to evaluate the situation.

"Oh, May," his voice took on a sarcastic tone. "Tell me again how you're going to cure the incurable. Or save all of humanity, which is even better!"

"Hiroto, I— where is this coming from? I'm trying my best to balance it all. You don't understand," I said, my face burning a hot red.

"Help me understand, then! We've been together for two years and we barely even speak to each other! I can't do this anymore," Hiroto's voice wavered with every word he said.

"I'm trying so hard, Hiroto! Why can't you see that? I am giving my all to this, I'm sorry I missed a dinner or two. I can't be everywhere at once," My volume rose to match his. I couldn't even look at the man I had loved.

"That's the problem. I've been there every step of that way and yet, you treat me like I don't exist. Who am I to you anymore? Does it even matter?"

"I can fix this. We can— we can make plans. Um, make it up to your brother. I can—"

"I'm not someone you need to fix, we aren't something you alone can save."

Hiroto had a painful smile on his face. I remembered the sting of hot tears in my eyes, the boiling over of sadness.

"You would rather watch me walk out that door right now than take a couple of days off, isn't that right?"

"I can't take a break. It doesn't work like that. They need me, I have to—"

"They?!" Hiroto interrupted, shaking his head. He was yelling now, pointing at himself. "May, I need you! I've needed you ever since I lost my job! I've been sitting in this apartment alone for weeks and weeks, waiting to receive calls in hopes we can pay for this place! Hell, people I haven't spoken to in years even reached out! And where have you been!?"

I knew it was over when he said that. I had no idea about his life. At that time, my whole world was wrapped up in medicine. It was the first time I felt as though I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

"You lost your job?"

"Months ago," he put his hands above his head. "Perfect. You're so damn wrapped up in yourself you didn't even know. I told you this several times, but you were never listening, were you?"

"Hiroto, I—"

"Don't even try with an excuse. It isn't worth it. Unbelievable," Hiroto waved his hand at her. I tried to grab his wrist, the feeling of his soft skin against mine pulling at my chest. He didn't look at me. He never looked at me during that conversation.

"It's worth it to me! I love you, Hiroto. Please, look at me. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm trying. I have so much going on I haven't been able to keep it all straight. Please, forgive me. We can figure this out together! Yeah!"

I held on to his arm like it was a lifeline. Because it was mine at the time. The only connection I had to the outside world and I was losing it.

"I can't do this anymore. You can't even see beyond yourself for a minute, a single second. I'm sorry, May," his arm broke from my grip. "I received a job offer far away from here. I planned this night out to find a reason to stay. To remember why I fell in love with you in the first place."

Hiroto sighed, using his hand to wipe his face. "It's still there. Every feeling I've had, if you just would've showed up. I'm never going to be important enough to you and I can't live like that."

"Don't do this, please," I had whispered. In my memory, every word had a different punch than it did the first time. "You— I thought you supported me. I thought we were okay! You understood that I— I would be putting everything into medicine. I told you! You knew this, didn't you? Let's talk about this more, okay? How about in the morning we sit down and— and we talk together."

"I've made up my mind. I accepted the offer two hours after you were supposed to be home. It's over," his back faced me and the last words he ever said to me would never leave my thoughts. "I hope this life is everything you wanted and more."

I closed my phone immediately, sitting straight up in my bed. The tears came back in full force. I put my head in my hands, my feet hanging off the edge of the bed. After that night, I never pursued anything else. No one was suited for me or the type of life I lived. Nakamura was the first date I had been on in years.

Yes, my decision was lonely. But it was better than leaving someone sitting alone at an empty table with empty chairs. I could live with that. I thought building a relationship with a doctor would be different. He knew. But that didn't feel so likely anymore. I could feel those insecurities returning with a vengeance.

Why did my thoughts shift toward a certain black haired man? Why was I letting him get so close? The little smile when I countered his color choice. His will masked in reluctance.

Every time I would find my thoughts wandering about a comfortable future, I remembered Hiroto. I can't go on another date with Nakamura. He's going to end up like Hiroto. They all are.

I wiped my nose, trying to keep the stream under control. My life wasn't everything I hoped and more. Instead, I was being cut up and bruised. Not even performing surgeries, having people save me instead of me saving them.

Maybe everything would've been different if he would've stayed. If I would've put my ego aside and accepted him. If I would've gone to that dinner. If I would've just been—

A better person.

Instead I was sitting alone, staring down at a cut on my hand from someone I couldn't remember. I fell asleep on top of my sheets and Hiroto's hopeless eyes plagued my dreams.

Which, quickly, became nightmares.

Twisting and turning into images of Hosu streets. My whole body a scarlet mess, the stickiness causing my hair to cling to my head. Hands grappled at my body, their faces contorted into visions of monsters and that voice. Who's Master? Why did he need it? What— What is happening to me?

I told myself I wasn't going to call. I told myself that being alone was a good thing. Protect people, protect others from your lifestyle. But in my sweat drenched state, the cut on my hand opening again as Stain's sunken in face flooded my memory, I reached for my phone.

I held it up to my ear, my chest heaving. I waited for the other line to pick up, which didn't take long. I gripped my hair in my hand.

"Hello?"

Why did that voice calm me so much?

I hesitated before speaking, then whispered into the phone. "I... I'm afraid."

( ; sorry for the length ! i figures i needed to make up for lost time ! : ) hope you enjoyed !! thanks for all of the support and i hope you like this glance into May's past ! Oh, i don't know if you've noticed, but most of the beginning quotes are from some of my favorite songs. do u know this one ?? )