»»————- ☩ ————-««  A/N I am sorry in advance . . . 

The infirmary cabin was a lot larger than any other building there, aside from the Town Hall, standing hidden in the far south shrouded by a thick screen of hanging leaves and vines. By the time they had made it towards the farthest side of the village the sun had just begun to dip below the blanket of clouds it was shrouded by. And a discolored sunset had been begging to be seen behind the water accumulations. 

Izuku's eyes had danced with mirth and wonder as he took in the sights of the village. While he still felt as though he were a prisoner rather than a good Samaritan wanting to help, he still managed to find the beauty in every aspect of it. From the odd clothes they wore, to the smells that swirled in the fresh unfretted air.  With every new smell, sight, or sound that trickled its way into his system—he had managed to commit them to memory in perfect clarity. For he never wanted to forget such beauties.

However, the more and more he took in the more he started to question himself once again. Had he done the right thing by killing his parents? His protectors? The people who had brought him into this world, only for him to take them out of it. Yes. Izuku so desperately wanted to remind himself of the reasons behind his actions, that it was required of him, it's what they would have wanted had they been in a more cogent mindset.

I relieved them of their pain.

Right?

Shaking his head, as if shaking the thoughts, Izuku allowed an influx of air to enter his lungs as Shoto pushed the veil of leaves away. Revealing the infirmary cabin. 

Izuku's hands instantly shot out to trail along with the native runes carved into the wooden posts outside the door; swirling; looping; and zig-zagging as he went. He added the feeling of the hand-carved runes to mind—Another wondrous beauty. 

The eldest of the three locked his calloused hands around the door handle, which was bent and battered, before pulling it open. Again, it appeared to have been built before the virus had struck the planet. The crackling fireplace was lit ablaze while rows and rows of makeshift beds were aligned in the middle of the room. Shelves holding an assortment of herbs, liquids, and other items stood out prominently against the dulled and faded colors of the furniture.

There were three patients on the beds, all of which were women. Their limbs pale yet faces a light shade of rose, small pieces of wet cloth with crunched up leaves resting on their foreheads. Izuku grimaced as he noticed the thick wool blankets draped over them—if they had a fever being bundled up would make it more difficult to bring their temperatures down.

"Who the hell is this?" 

Izuku jumped as his eyes snapped towards the two guards lounging on what appeared to be a couch in the corner. "You know, I've been hearing this question all god damn day," he scoffed, "You'd think you guys would have a way to spread the news by now."

"Do you ever shut up?" Katsuki could not help but let the question slip—seeing as though he had to deal with Izuku and his smart mouth all day. In spite of his deep curiosity and slight infatuation with the boy and his ways.

"No, not exactly," the younger smirked, "But you can sure try and get me to. Of course, I can think of a few ways. Like putting your—"

"This is Izuku Midoriya." Shoto promptly interjected with an amused smile. "Long story short, he's a Qui Metallum. A healer Qui Metallum,"

"Doctor," Izuku muttered under his breath.

The first guard who had spoken up was much similar to Shoto in looks, however, his hair was a blinding white—and cut neatly until it dipped slightly past his cheekbones. "Look, little brother, I know you're a Ductor now—but do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Yes," Katsuki and Izuku both murmured simultaneously.

"Obviously, not," Shoto countered. "Do you think I'm a liar, Natsuo?"

Izuku observed silently as the guard's facial features shifted, a look of indignation briefly scouring across his piercing gray eyes before he slowly nodded. There was something odd about the boy that put the freckled male off, however, he was not quite sure as to why that was the case. It was a perplexing sensation—yet Izuku could not help but feel as though he was familiar . . . as if he had seen him before somewhere. But that couldn't be true, right?

Without giving him much time to debate and ponder over his notions, Natsuo briskly walked out. Leaving Izuku, Shoto, Katsuki, and the other guard alone along with the three women who shifted and grimaced uncomfortably within their slumber.

"You can help them?" the other guard finally spoke, carding his fingers through his tangled lilac locks. His eyes were adorned by dark crescent moons, and a deep color of purple to match his unruly hair. Yet just beneath the thin film of said eyes lay a chaotic, restless, and worried boy rather than an intense guard.

Izuku's eyes flickered towards the trio of women, a sympathetic expression carving out his features before his face returned to its usual slack emotionless state. "Yeah," he affirmed, "What they have—or at least what I think they have—isn't something to worry about."

"And if you can't?" the purple-haired male pressed, his line of sight trailing towards the woman with curly pink hair. 

"Then I guess I'll have a mob of angry villagers wanting to kill me, huh?"

The guard eyes him vehemently once more as if he were trying to look below the surface of Izuku's sarcasm and arrogance before inevitably giving up. Pivoting on his heel, he walked out, most likely going to catch up with Natsuo.

Shoto and Katsuki went over towards the makeshift couch resting in the corner, observing with curious eyes as Izuku got to work doing what he could with such limited medical equipment he was anything but accommodated to. His hands fluttering around deftly from the shelves to the women and back and forth once more. They had provided minimal explanations on their condition—mainly due to the fact that they had no clue what the hell was happening.

People coming into the infirmary were rather rare, and only for more physical treatments like arrow, spear, or stab wounds; if a small child just so happened to fall into a poison ivy patch; or a worker had hurt him or herself with a tool, etc. Ever since the virus spread years ago, nobody in the tribes had ever gotten sick.

It was beginning to cause quite a panic.

"What the hell are you doing?" Katsuki questioned as Izuku began pulling the thick blankets off the patients' delicate frames. "When they were awake they said it was way too cold for them, they'll—"

"—They have fevers." Izuku said sternly, "If you have them surrounded by heat while their body temperatures are high then it can be detrimental to them. You have to trust that I know what I'm doing. My life's hanging on the line, remember?" he added with a teasing smirk.

"So, without the blanket,s their temperatures will go back to normal?" Shoto asked, cambering his head as strands of scarlet and white fanned over his intensifying gaze.

"Mhm,"

With that, it was silent once more. Leaving Izuku to his thoughts as he replaced the pieces of cloth on their foreheads with fresh ones.

It was such an easy thing to accomplish, losing himself in the midst of his work—for he was so used to working with his hands that they naturally went into auto-pilot once they got started. His mind a smooth surface of a plethora of thoughts, predominantly circling towards the events he kept attempting to draw away from. The ones from this morning. When he murdered his parents.

At first, he had not been bothered by the idea. It was as if it had not struck him yet, for somewhere in the back of his mind he still considered it all a nightmare—one he would inexorably be awoken from by his mother's gentle smile and kind eyes. He would be shrouded with questions of concern by both parental figures as to why he had been shaking and mumbling in his sleep, asking if he was okay. But that wouldn't happen now, Izuku knew that; it was complete and utter bullshit to think that way.

His parents were dead. He had killed his parents. They weren't coming back.

It was all his fault.

And as his hands moved freely around the room and across the women in hopes to make them more comfortable as he worked, his mind was paralyzed with three undeniable emotions. Realization, anger, and guilt.

Realization soaked his perception and notions in its remindful scent—blurring out all the wonderful aroma's the village had to offer. It combined and swirled with everything around him, taking it all in like a sponge only to release it into the forefront of his mind like a plague. Haunting him. The deranged screams his mother produced as she tackled him to the floor, his father trailing close behind her. How his elbow knocked against a guard's handgun that had been abandoned in the midst of all the chaos and danger. Izuku grimaced as he remembered the weight of the loaded chamber, heavy and thick in the palms of his hands.

Anger towards himself came in hot floods as he recalled the knockback force of the gun firing off, metal nubs emitting from them, and digging to the soft flesh of his parents' flesh. Painting and lathering themselves and the floor beneath them a deep red. A sea of red liquid which most likely still stained the hallway he had left them in . . . watching helplessly as they died before him.

And finally, guilt bubbled up in his chest. Threatening to burst and expand towards the delicate organ of his heart—already making it past the barriers of his ribcage on a determined endeavor to ruin him. To tarnish him. To leave him crumpled and lifeless in its wake just as he had his defenseless parents.

It was all his fault.

"You okay?" Izuku flinched as he felt Katsuki's warm palm press firmly against his shoulder blade.

In an instant the mask of sarcasm and arrogance had veiled over his features. "Awe, look at that, it hasn't even been a full day and you're already in love with me. Don't feel bad, Katsuki, I just tend to have that type of effect on people," he chuckled with a taunting grin.

"Whatever," the blond did a roll of his eyes. "Well? Are they going to be okay for now?" he asked, his raspy voice dropping an octave as he scanned the women's current conditions.

"Until we can move them to the bunker, yes. They'll be fine." Izuku affirmed, crossing his arms and leaning against the side of the fireplace. "I'll have to stay up tonight and change their rags every thirty minutes," he added with a grim sigh.

Shoto shook his head from where he sat on the couch. "I'll have our regular healer do that. I'm sure she'll manage," 

Silence had been graced upon the room, aside from the flicker cackle of the roaring fire wafting smoke up the chimney and into the vast sky above. That is until it struck Izuku.

One: he hadn't eaten all day.

Two: he needed a place to sleep.

"Awe shit—"           

Hello Cricket Cultists!!

What's a Cricket book without a lil dash of angst.

The chapters may or may not start getting longer from here. We'll see. ;)

In case you haven't read the schedule I posted on my board, I will be updating this book on Wednesday's and possibly weekends. I have other books going on as well that's why. But there will most likely be two updates per week until further notice.

I'm in fucking love with this book and the characters, and the sass. Did I mention the fucking SaSs??

In case you guys have any theories or questions about this book so far leave them here! :)))))

And if you have any questions or comments of me specifically leave them here ;)))

Until we meet again!!!