The Eyes That Make the Storm

84) Last Obstacle

 "So, you're a weather girl now?" Gang Orca asked as Stasia sat opposite him in the chair on the other side of his desk.

"Being a weather girl means being employed, which I am not."

"Nastasia," he warned.

"I'm ready," she said, exhausted.

"I know."

"Then let me-"

"And you know my conditions."

She swallowed and slumped back in her chair disappointed.

"I want you back here, I do. I'm just not taking any unnecessary risks to do so."

She sighed, defeated as she agreed, "yes, sir."

When Stasia got back to the dorms everyone was in the common and she made a point to ignore them all as she made her way to the bathroom on her floor.

She waited a bit and stared at the door just so she could be sure no one was coming in. After a few minutes, she slowly walked over to the mirror, hesitant- scared of what she knew she'd see.

For the past month or so since the incident, she made a habit out of avoiding mirrors. Avoiding the truth was the same thing as it not being real. Yet it was.

Carefully, she lifted- peeled the eyepatch off of her skin that revealed the blood-soaked, leaking bandage underneath. She tossed both in the trash, turning away to do so, and took a long deep breath before she dared to face the mirror again.

Lichtenberg marks surrounded the entirety of the outer perimeter of the socket. Parts of her skin had been burned off and no matter how hard she squinted with her left eye, she couldn't find any evidence that an eye was what the right one ever was.

She still had her eye, technically. Except now it's burned beyond the point of recognition. Now, just as the doctor predicted, she can't see out of it. Now, it leaks so much that she has to change the bandage every few hours to avoid the slow trickle of whatever fluid has been coming out of it running down her cheek. Now, the only time she remembers she does in fact have two eyes is when the right one causes her so much pain in random bursts she'd rather it be cut out. And it makes her question: what is she still holding on to it for?

Why is she so desperate to cling to something that causes her so much pain? So much discomfort and inconvenience. Something that is the last obstacle in the way of returning to the sense of normality that hero work once brought her. She kept asking herself why and after fifteen minutes in that bathroom alone, she realized she didn't have an answer. Which was an answer in and of itself.

She picked up the phone and called the number she used to be too prideful to dial.

"It's Sugiyama," she said, "can I come in, like two days from now?"

She could practically hear the cocky grin as he said, "yes."

***

She wasn't sure what she was expecting. Or if she was expecting anything at all, but when she got back from the hospital three days later, there were a few gasps and smiles. Which she didn't mind, she appreciated it, if anything as she didn't want too much attention on it either way. In fact, she was grateful she could finally get Bakugou to shut up on the issue. Though, that didn't mean she didn't have at least a small reaction from someone in particular.

That's why when Todoroki passed her by in the hallway only to stop a few steps away and turn around as he came back to face her she felt nervous. He stared at her silently and a small smile grazed his lips as he pointed to her eye.

"We match."

Stasia doesn't cry, but at that moment she was damned close.

"Yeah, we do."