𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘

CHAPTER 37

Bakugo

My parents were given temporary guardianship out of emergency since Freckles's time in the hospital was coming to an end.

I had to do something. There was no way in hell that I'd let her be put in foster care. She was going to graduate just like the rest of us.

When I called my parents the night she told us, they were skeptical and hesitant. Sure, they loved her since the first time they met her, but they watched the festival just like everyone else. Her power was scary to them. And they berated me for not mentioning that she was the daughter of the Hasaki; some of the most heinous criminals in Japan. And since they were still running rampant, they believed that she would bring danger into our home.

But when I explained to them that they left their daughter to die on the platform we fought on, they went silent on the other end. I told them that her parents hadn't come to see her, to see if she was safe. But what convinced them was that Freckles would be put in the system somewhere across the country. They didn't want that any more than I did.

Freckles couldn't walk on her own. Her muscles were weak and she had become so frail that her limbs shook violently when she first got out of bed. But the shaking never stopped, not even after I helped her into a wheelchair.

Her hair was a mess like it hadn't been washed since before the Sports Festival. The entire top of her head was white as her roots pushed out the color in her hair.

Her skin was pale from hiding away in the darkness of her hospital room.

When I woke her that morning, her cheeks were indented with lines from the creases in the sheets.

Her fingers were dry to the touch once I helped her into the car.

She was a mess. But even as I watched her struggle to do simple tasks, it brought me some relief knowing that she was safe and growing healthy again. She was alive, that's all that mattered.

Closing the car door, I strolled up to my parents who were conversing with one of the doctors.

"Her labs look great and we were able to remove the mental implant that we found during her surgery," he explained before handing a boatload of papers to my dad.

Mental implant? Surgery? I repeated, feeling my brows knit and nose crinkle.

"She should return to her normal self after a couple of weeks. I recommend daily physical therapy and mental exercises. Oh! And don't forget that her wounds need to be cleaned thoroughly every night," he continued, pulling more shit out of his ass.

"O-oh! Okay!" My mom inhaled, taking the remaining papers he handed.

"And if things don't work out," the doctor's face fixed into a pitiful expression as he slipped his pointer and middle finger into a small pocket on his coat, he pulled out a card, "feel free to call this number."

I knew what he was suggesting, so, without hesitation, I snatched the damn thing from him and crumpled it in my palm, throwing it on the ground, "They will, but thanks."

"Katsuki!" My mom hissed through tight teeth. If she had a free hand, she probably would've knocked me upside my head.

But my old man interjected before the situation could escalate. "Thank you, Doctor—?"

"Furuta. Dr. Takumi Furuta." The man forcefully smiled, sending an irritated glance my way.

"Alright, let's go," mom nodded, pivoting towards the car. Dad followed after her without a minute to waste, dropping a paper or two as the wind knocked them from the stack in his hands. I stood in place.