Beginning of a New Spring (MHA/PJO crossover)

Chapter 48

Soba: Honestly, it takes me longer to write chapters with my new job, so chapters won't be out as soon as I hoped they would be. That and I hope this chapter came out the way I wanted it to. I won't go back to re-read this (for a third time) to fix any small things. Enjoy! Why does writing canon characters have to be so hard? I'm sure I didn't do justice to Twice's character.

Ophelia's limbs dangled loosely in the man's arms. Whatever they injected her with didn't seem to wear off—it only grew more intense. Her vision came and went while she fought against it. Her mind didn't feel like her own. Her voice echoed inside her mind. At times, it felt like someone else was responding back.

"Dabi, she's waking."

"It won't wear off anytime soon, Twice. Shut up," a flat voice made its way through the haze. It sounded muffled and broken. She could barely put their sentences together before she heard one closer. She could feel the man's chest move when he spoke. The two voices that came one after another confused her to the point their words muddled together, and she couldn't put two words together.

A shell of a body was what she felt like—stuck in her mind that wouldn't work properly while every part of her body felt numb. She couldn't even feel the sting from the burn on her arm she got from Dabi. She had felt sorry for him when she first saw him. Burns all over his body that was held together by surgical staples. He didn't have the same look in his eyes when he stood there staring at her. A little comical, maybe, but not the euphoric gaze he had earlier. There was a resentment rooted deep in him at heroes. It wasn't hard to see when she had seen the same look in Luke's eyes when he talked about his father and the Gods.

She never got a break. It wasn't enough. She was thrown into this world she had grown to love to care for. It wanted to constantly give her reminders of how she seemed to fail those in her old one. Luke may have changed in the last few seconds of his life, but she could tell Dabi wouldn't. The same anger had festered deep within him for too long. There wasn't any way to tell his exact age, but it took years for that anger to reach deep. Luke was eighteen when he left, and the same bitterness and anger that had begun to settle in him. He was twenty-two when he died. She thought Luke had only changed because of the bonds he had made between Annabeth and Thalia. On the other hand, Dabi didn't seem to have those same bonds. If he did, they were severed.

Alone in a world where people like him were outcasted and looked down upon. It was no wonder it had come to this. People lashed out against those who hadn't done anything like their name suggested. They worried more about fame, money, and reputation than about the well-being of those they swore to protect.

Hero was just a word thrown around in that world. A symbol that should have held more meaning than it did, yet so many had taken advantage of the word it was tarnished. A shimmering bronze gold that many tried to reach with their hands had turned it to a coppery color with specs that still tried to shined.

The Commission made it known they only cared about their reputation, just like most of the heroes on the Hero Billboard. Few upheld the ideals a true hero should. It didn't help make up the many who didn't, though.

Ophelia wondered how The Commission would view what was happening. If she couldn't get herself out of this, would her classmates be able to? And if she didn't... that was something she didn't want to consider. Shouta and Detective Tsukauchi had put a lot on the line for her. The Commission would reign Greek fire down on them for this.

The slight jostle stopped when the man carrying didn't move any further.

"We'll wait here for them."

She wanted to ask who they were waiting for, but the connection between her mind and body still didn't exist. Any attempt to expel what they gave her had failed, and so had trying to use an ounce of her powers. She couldn't access her ambrosia to speed up the process. She felt bad when she had thought they might take one and rid their presence from near her, but what would that make her?