Tori:

  So... Henry made up his mind, huh? Honestly, maybe I should hurry up and decide, too. If he's going EMT, I should probably follow so we can stay together—oh, right. They said they'd be separating us during classes no matter what...

  I walk down the halls of UA alone, looking for Recovery Girl's office for my appointment with her. I heard my brother's appointment was more of a look into his condition—which is great. He needs all the help he can get despite appearances on the battlefield.

  Me... I have my own concerns. First, I'm not tough; Henry is the muscle, and people figure that out quickly. Second, well... well, we will be getting into that today.

  I find the office pretty quickly- not that I'm not worn out from all the stairs getting to the twentieth freaking floor- IN UNIFORM! I hate all these teenagers running around me with powers that bypass the stairs or fly. If someone is actually with their class, they have to walk like normal, but going between, they can use minor tricks as long as they don't cause chaos. This is great; I can walk when everyone else is walking, and when everyone else is doing tricks, I can walk. That's it- I can walk. Flesh fuze is supposed to be one of the most revolutionary quirks on earth, and I have to hoof it everywhere I go.

  Welp- in I go! Wish me luck.

  The nurse's office is a simple affair—most people would probably just look at the beds and the desk, but my eyes explore the medical charts all around me. On my left on the cabinets are charts of all the muscle groups and their members. They're broken down intricately, and I wander over to examine them. They're— actually kind of cool. Maybe a little gross to other people, but cool to me.

  I carefully review the different images, noting the composition and any differences between this chart and the ones in my giant anatomy book- which is currently in my backpack.

  An old lady's voice comes up behind me, startling me. "We provide lockers; you don't have to carry that book bag everywhere."

  I jump and turn around, not realizing someone else was in the room.

  "Oh goodness, you really aren't combat-ready," says an old lady as she walks over to me, her cane clicking on the floor. "I assume they told you where your locker was?"

  "Not really, I..." Wait... old lady... purple visor, pink ear protection, giant syringe cane... I gasp. "Recovery Girl!"

  "We meet at last," she says with a warm smile. "Well, I did see you at your entrance exam, but I was a spectator then." She straightens my collar and then steps back. I smile back at her. "Oh my goodness... you're actually kind of adorable," she says as I look away, blushing a bit. She chuckles. "Well, I guess today is the day I try to sell you on being an EMT like we planned. I was told your brother has already made up his mind- though if you don't make the same choice, I'll note his choice won't matter." She hobbles over to her desk and takes a seat behind it.

  I pull a notebook from my bag and hold it to the nurse. "Autograph? Please?"

  "I... my autograph?"

  "Please? I remember your cartoons on health from grade school, and if I recall, you were a big-time hero of your own before All Might showed up."

  She beams at me and takes the notebook. "To Tori... Yamada,"

  "Thankyou... I mean for calling me Yamada and not Miles."

  "It's your name now. You should not accept people calling you by the moniker of that monster... now- "from Recovery Girl, Nurse Chiyo Shuzenji, thanks for making an old lady's day." She hands the book back to me. "And perhaps you'll convince me to tell you a few stories about the old days before All Might became our symbol of peace and drove the villains underground- those were dark days indeed, but there were heroes even then."

  "Whenever you can..." She folds her hands and looks at me for a minute. "What- oh right, I should probably get on with it." I straighten my hair a little, nervous to be in the presence of someone I admire. "I've studied EMT work in my book," I say as I sit opposite her. "It looks important, and I think I could make a big difference- but really, anyone could with the right training. Surgery is probably where I would be most useful, don't you think?" I put my elbows on the desk and give her an eager smile. "I'm sure you'll be teaching me either way, right?"

  "Why?" she asks cocking her head to the side.

  "Well... I mean..." I blink a few times. "I mean, I'm the next generation of healers- your logical successor, right?"

  "That doesn't mean I need to teach you. I wanted to be your professor to help launch the EMT program, not because I like you or want to guide you in particular."

  "But... I..."

  "Oh honey," she reaches over and pats my hands gently. "I'm sure you're a delightful child, but it's not like I know you or anything. If you're not a critical part of something launching, I have no reason to focus on you. If that's what you want, you can focus on general education and then go to college to be a surgeon like anyone else."

  "But... I... you're my hero..."

  She smiles again but looks less affected this time. "Yes—and that's the first in many years, but it's also irrelevant. Of course, I am curious as to why me?"

  "I'm kind of a health dork..." I look away, kind of ashamed of my strange interests.

  "Why in particular?"

  "I mean- I have a quirk that's meant for it- it's like a calling. I've been told ever since I was four how important my quirk could be. They found me on the playground, knitting together a dead squirrel with my powers. I was fascinated, though I had no idea what I was doing then. However, when the adults looked at the corpse and saw it coming back together, they freaked. Everyone was excited- they said I was super special- and when they said why, well, I guess the rest was history, as they say."

  "Of course," the old lady says with a sigh. "They basically told you that you were destined for medicine. Which, I suppose, wasn't a bad guess."

  "It means I can give people more time with their loved ones, right? It means I can be important- critical."

  She nods. "I won't deny that." She picks up a pamphlet from her desk and shows it to me— it's the pamphlet for the EMT course. "I also won't deny that I have an ulterior motive here. This course is one of my dreams. There was a time when I was out in the field like all the other heroes. As you can see, that time has come and gone," she holds out her hands and points at her body.

  She holds up the pamphlet, "This," she says, "This is what I did. I kept people alive with my medical knowledge until emergency services arrived. I patched up heroes and victims and sped up healing in the field- it was fast and sloppy, but it gave the professionals in the hospital a better chance. See- my power acts only on injuries made before I kiss a patient, not after, meaning it doesn't interfere with surgery. I speed up their natural healing process. This made wounds seal and clot quickly in the field. Now it's used to patch up students who do dumb things or break their bones during training." She sighs. "I'm not upset about it; I like interacting with young people, but I hate to think my contribution to the world will fade and that my legacy will end with me." She looks at her desk, tapping the wood, looking a little forlorn. "But, if the right student doesn't come along well..."

  I look down for a bit, then sigh, "And Henry is counting on me choosing EMT too, isn't he?"

  "It's your choice, dear. Surgery is a career you won't regret, and you'll make a tremendous difference if you do. I wouldn't dream of telling you-"

  "EMT," I interrupt her. "I've decided."

  "I-"

  "No, really. I'll do it."

  "Just like that? I had this whole presentation..."

  "Well, I have no problem with surgery or EMT, but I must decide, right? If people are counting on me choosing EMT- really, I guess an entire industry is counting on me, or it won't even be created- So screw it- I choose EMT." I smile and nod.

  "Well, I guess that means I should get to preparing, um..." she starts to get up awkwardly. "I..." she looks at me again, as if to be sure, but I just smile. "Well, no need to look a gift horse in the mouth then."

  "Um... there is um... um... one problem," I say.

  She pauses.

  "Um... what can you tell me about atrophy? Can um... can quirks get atrophy?"

  "Well, I wasn't counting on this..." she settles back into her chair. "They certainly can. Tell me the story; why is that a concern?"

  "Well... it's not like I go around town healing the sick or something..."

  "Your power is non-specific, and you're a kid; you don't need to be healing humans specifically anyway, and I would be horrified to hear that you're practicing on living people at your age. But what stops you from cutting and uncutting sandwich meat or something else? That not a possibility?"

  I sigh. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask about that- my power is effortless to practice using. I used to do it on slices of ham or chicken- just cut them with a plastic knife and then force the pieces back together. Things never looked perfect, but my caretakers wanted me to exercise my quirk daily since they learned about it. But..."

  "But..." she waves for me to go on.

  "But when we realized who and what Charles was, Henry was determined to keep what I had from him. He thought for sure Charles would sell me or force me to train to be a doctor for the underground, helping to torture, exchange organs- all kinds of horrible things. So he used his math and computer skills to destroy the records of my abilities over the internet."

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  "I see... well, given the reputation of your former father, your brother probably had a right to be concerned- though I'm not sure hacking on that scale was the best solution."

  "You'll find he's... thorough. He also insisted I stop practicing so no one would have a clue. I only learned about atrophy last week by reading my anatomy book, and I doubt he knew about it either..."

  The old lady leans back in her chair with an exasperated sigh. "You'll be lucky if he didn't destroy everything... we need to reign in your brother's overzealous and foolish attempts to protect you. He doesn't know what he's doing- he may already have done more harm than good!"

  She gets up and wanders over to a fridge. "Honestly, under normal circumstances, what he did to you could have been a serious crime, though perhaps I should forgive him for being desperate and young, but if he continues-

  But I can't stand there listening to her. "Well, what was he supposed to do!?" I get up, arms spread halfway and hands in fists. "What were either of us supposed to do? We had nothing- we were living as freaking prisoners. We wanted to run away, but that wasn't an option. We wanted to fight, but we didn't know how- and the so-called heroes weren't around... so... so what would you prefer? That I had been sold off and never made it here?"

  Recovery Girl turns around and points a finger at me. "I didn't say that, child, please-"

  "For all you people put my brother down, he was working on his own to save himself and me, and you'll notice we're both alive.... WHICH IS MORE THAN..." I start to almost scream until I stop myself. "That's more than I can say for where we would have been if we waited for you heroes to save us!"

  Finally, my mind catches up to my mouth, and I cover it, eyes wide... oh, now I've done it!

  The old lady just stands there like she's frozen in time. "I... I..." She finally looks down. "No... no, I guess you have a point." I blink, realizing she isn't going to fire back on that. She turns back to the fridge and starts looking through it. "I remember reading about Charles adopting. I knew he was a horrible man even back then, yet it's not like I pressed someone to investigate. The law would have made it difficult, but still..." She takes out a Tupperware container and takes it over to her desk. "I'm sorry. I should have done better myself." she opens the container and slides it over to me. "That being said, your brother needs help, as do you. There are things your brother could have done better, but... I'll let it go for now."

  "I still look up to you... you're still my hero."

  "Don't you dare..." she grinds her teeth. "I'm going to have enough of a time beating myself up tonight for failing to act when I could have for your sake, without you going right back to fawning over me." She waves at the container. "It's some lunch meat. If this works out, I'll regularly buy some expressly for you to work on. Tear a piece and try to fuse it back together, if you will. Let's see what happens."

  "Sorry if I made this awkward-"

  "You certainly didn't get your brother's devil-may-care attitude," she says, waving off my apology. "You had a point and dropped it immediately." She taps her desk to get my attention. "We'll have to work on that lack of assertiveness before you become a human doormat. Anyway, go on."

  I walk over to the counter with all the muscle charts. I look up at them. "What if this doesn't work?" I ask, staring.

  "I don't know," the old lady says, hobbling over to me with her cane. I suppose the program will be back on suspension, and you should just practice to be a regular doctor. It's not the end of the world."

  "But for the record, people are counting on me here, huh?" I ask.

  "Kiddo... just get on with it. Don't focus on failure, or it's all you'll see- focus on success, and eventually, you'll have it." She gives me a warm smile. "Ask your brother. All that hopelessness around you two, and he got you out. He screwed up in places, but I'll bet you anything he focused on success. Now- learn from him. Take out the meat, and focus on succeeding in fusing it."

  I take out the meat, a regular slice of white-packaged turkey, and tear it almost down the middle. Then, I hold my left hand over the slice. Usually, doing this gives me an image in my mind of what I'm working on, almost in three dimensions, so I can focus. I close my eyes.

  Then, from my side, I hear, "Oh my- is that..."

  I open my eyes to look at Recovery Girl and pause.

  Projected over the turkey meat is a green image. It's static-covered and not quite square like it seems it should be. Still, I focus my eyes on the image, and it... zooms in. The image is still of the turkey slice, but now it's of the tiny fibers that make it. I focus my eyes again and... am I looking at molecules? I hold up my right hand and push my fingers between my hand and the turkey- nothing. My image of the turkey meat stays on that screen, with no interference, even when something passes in the way. I chuckle. "Wow..."

  "Wow, that's right. Say goodbye to sonograms or x-rays with you. I wonder how specific you can get," the old nurse says, coming over and staring hard at my projection. "You couldn't do this before?"

  "Nothing like atrophy to give you new powers... I used to be lucky to make projections like this in my head- not on the molecular level, though."

  "That's not how atrophy works, child. You're eleven, which means your body is developing and maturing naturally, and, apparently, so is your quirk."

  I put my right finger over the beginning of the tear, and a yellow beam shot from my finger to the meat. On the projection, the molecules started moving quickly and jamming into each other. Beneath the projection, the meat was slowly pulling together.

  In seconds, the meat is half-mended. It's like there were no consequences to my lack of action at "all— ssshhh—aHHHHHAAA!!!"

  I shriek and pull both hands back as pain fires through my hands and up to my back, feeling like I just touched a flame- or maybe a blow torch.

  I stumble back and look at my hands. The projections and energy are gone, but the pain is still there, dulling to soreness instead of burning as my hands turn red. I grit my teeth and try not to cry. "No..."

  "Oh, stop it," the old lady says. "This is good news."

  "What do you mean? I used to be able to use my power for over an hour without feeling any pain at all. I don't even remember ever feeling pain from just using it. I don't remember pain at all..."

  "That's because you've never truly exerted the ability before, I imagine." She says, examining the slice of meat. "Yes... hmmm... this may not be much of a crisis, despite your brother's terrible judgment." I grind my teeth a little at that. "I have my opinion, and it won't change easily," she says when she looks at my face. "My point is that he jumps to conclusions, and it's good that we have you away from him to develop on your own."

  "I'm not going to stop loving him..."

  She snorts in laughter, and I tighten my fist. "Hold on, deary, I never said you shouldn't love your family, the most enduring member of it least of all." She takes my balled-up fist and puts it over my chest. "Continue to hold young Henry here, in your heart; he needs you, and I know you need him... much as it frustrates me in some ways. You're incredibly impressionable, and he's domineering. It's a dangerous combination, but it's what we need to work with. You are family and need someone to go to at the end of the day. I'm just a teacher, Henry is your brother, and I'm not taking that away." She sighs. "I am passing a little judgment, though."

  "If... if you had it your way- would you separate us?"

  The old lady pauses on that note. "I... my position is more complicated than that. I think your brother needs help... please dear, move on. I'm not going to try to sabotage your family."

  "So... you just barely tolerate-"

  "I care about him- not as much as you do, granted, but I do, please..." she sighs again. "Look, maybe this is a good thing for you to see. Your brother was placed in a terrible situation where decisions had to be made- and he made them. Now, no matter what, his judgments will be supported or called into question for the rest of his life. He'll be granted mercy because of his age, and so will you for your lack of notable actions- I might point out." On that note, I'm the one going silent. I indeed did little to help one way or the other under Charles. I was mostly just a victim... and I guess that's one of the reasons I hate hearing people criticize Henry.

  Recovery Girl continues, "I'm sorry, young lady, I really am. But you must understand that the profession you want to enter, Heroic EMT, will place you in the driver's seat. Everything you do from now on, even down to choosing this career, will be scrutinized. You must keep moving forward despite that, just to make a difference. You will save the lives of villains, prioritize one life over another, take one call over another... I hate to tell you this, but someone needs to. If you choose this life, the life of a hero, you stand to help many people- but you will be hated for it quite often. The anger you hear will make my criticisms of your brother seem tepid."

  I look down and bite my lip, almost stepping back.

  She continues, "At risk of losing what I've gained in having you choose the program I want you to choose- you tell me, right now- do you still want to be an EMT? It's a position subject to criticism, and I cannot guarantee some equal amount of fame or glory, so..."

  "But..." I think. "But I really can help people have more time? I really can save lives? No matter what people think of me, just like my brother saved me in the end, I can save others?"

  "I'd rather you not hold up your brother that way, but—well, it's true."

  "If I can make a difference- that's what I want to do," I nod.

  She smiles and fist pumps the air, which- I guess is cute in its own right. I giggle at her. "Alright, then we're going to make a program to rebuild your quirk, and the two of us are going to work on you asserting yourself." she twists her lips in thought. "From now on, you are my assistant, not my student- by appearances, I mean. Naturally, I will, in fact, be teaching you, but to others, I will not seem to be as far above you as I am above other students- you will look special."

  "I mean- is that a good idea?"

  "I say it is, and I'm not backing down- learn to do the same." She gives me a firm look. "Normally, I would not allow this, but you must assert yourself rather desperately. Do not bow to me, and please refer to me as Recovery Girl, Doctor, or Chiyo, not as Professor or Ms. Shuzenji. You will always speak clearly to me, loudly, and with a sense of purpose. You will be marked down for every five minutes you spend unoccupied in my office or classrooms. Half points down if I have to tell you what to do when you should have thought of things independently. As a tip- if there's time to lean, there's time to clean."

  My eyes widen. "You... you can't be serious... It's up to me to figure out what to do with my time?"

  "Not entirely, but I'm tempted to take down points for that comment- you should not be intimidated by simple time management practice. I will write down a plan to rehabilitate your quirk by working on cutting and re-fusing sandwich meat and eventually frogs' bodies," At that point, I make a disgusted face, at which she chuckles, "Welcome to medicine. You have a healing quirk, but all it does is re-fuze molecules indiscriminately. If you don't learn to discriminate what you're working on, you can't proceed to working on living creatures. This is what all surgeons and EMTs do- you didn't expect your first patients to be alive, did you?"

  "But frogs... really?" I ask, cringing at the very thought.

  "Yes, frogs, cheap, dead, and similar enough to people that I can use them as analogs."

  She then hobbles over to my backpack and pulls out my anatomy textbook. "Goodness—this thing brings back memories of my own school days," she says, looking through it. "You will be going through it one chapter a week—if not faster when I feel like it. Class time, for now, will be reviewing each chapter, and I will expect two—to three-page chapter summaries every Friday. I'm not an experienced teacher, but that seems acceptable."

  "Sounds like a bit much even to me..." I comment as she walks back to her desk.

  "Welp, again, welcome to medicine... in fact," She holds up the book and eyes my bookmark- two-thirds of the way through the book. "You got that far in two weeks, did you? Obviously, reading isn't a weak point for you. If that's the case, congrats, you've been promoted from simple student to gopher. You will be my full-on nurse's assistant for the remainder of the year- perhaps for the next three years until you are ready to start formal EMT classes- this will be done in addition to your normal studies." My eyes widen. "I hope you're not expecting to become a social butterfly because this is the wrong profession. You chose EMT, so consider yourself lucky. If it had been a surgeon like you were thinking of, that would have made EMT look like a joke!"

  "Wait... just to clarify, when do I start?"

  "Well, I don't have any lesson plans yet, and the week is half over, so no reading assignment this week, but..." she looks at a stack of papers on her desk. "This is a big school, you've no doubt noticed, so any given day, you have five or six bedridden students who will need refills on their medications. Normally, I would have their classmates do that, but you're here, so," she hands me a stack of papers and a small fanny pack, "I hope you like stairs because you're going to be running all over campus for me for the rest of the week..."

  I stare at her wide-eyed.

  "Well- go on. I understand you don't have the same memory problems as your brother, so I suspect you already understand the school dorm layout; off you go. Remember, if I ever find proof of you stealing medicine, the results will be immediate suspension, and if you are confirmed to be dealing in drugs of any kind, you will be expelled." I gulp. It's not that I intend to be a dealer; I just hope one doesn't have a low threshold for proof.

  Still, I'm not only finally back in school, but I kind of have a job... this is kind of cool. I turn to leave as she speaks up again, "Wait! One more thing." I turn back. She grabs my hands gently. "Young lady, you have chosen a hard and very worthwhile career, and if I never remember to say so again—thank you. You have no idea what it means to this old lady for you to rescue her dreams."

  She looks at me like I'm somehow adorable, eyes half-pitying me, and I return the look. Old people can be cute in their own way.

  I bow—get a glare because we just went over that about ten seconds ago—and rush off. I get out the door, skipping with excitement, and then see the stairs down the hall.

  Oh... right... crap...