My Little Lab Rat (Overhaul x Y/N)

Bad Feeling

The next day, I went to work feeling a bit on edge. I hadn't slept, my mind keeping me awake, constantly replaying the events of the previous day. I felt anxious, a looming cloud following me wherever I dared to go, crushing my lungs painfully, fear and worry raining down on me. No matter what I tried, I just couldn't shake this terrible feeling that something bad was going to happen.

I went on with the day, dazed and disorganized, making countless small mistakes. It caught the attention of my boss, who appeared rather worried. He didn't say anything, but I noticed him looking my way multiple times, wearing a watchful expression, as though he was observing me.

Amidst the casual chatter over lunch, my colleagues and I delved into our favorite off-work activities, painting a vibrant picture of our shared interests. Yet, in an unexpected twist, the conversation veered abruptly, as if swerving off a winding road, plunging us into an unforeseen topic. The air shifted, the mood transforming in an instant, casting an unforeseen shadow over our previously light-hearted banter.

"Did any of you hear what happened? Yesterday, a hero was attacked once more, this time just a few blocks away from here," colleague one began, others listening intently, their curiosity now sparked. "The crazy thing is that he came out completely unharmed despite receiving fatal injuries... or so he says."

The mood felt staggering, this piece of information catching those listening off guard. The silence that followed, lasting mere seconds, felt interminable. I knew the incident would eventually be reported, yet the words spoken sent shivers of fear down my spine.

"Did he manage to get to the hospital in time?" colleague two asked intrigued expecting colleague one to continue.

"That's the thing! When he went to the hospital they couldn't find any signs of previous injuries. Apparently he claims that as he was about to die another person appeared out of nowhere and healed him leaving just as suddenly as they came."

"So is he lying?" colleague three joined in.

Colleague one paused for a while, pondering the question before speaking once more. "It's hard to say because his hero uniform showed clear signs of physical damage and had large blood stains covering huge portions of it. These stains were tested and proven to be his blood. And yet, his body didn't appear to have been injured in any way. Strange, isn't it?"

"Is that even possible? I mean, there aren't many people with healing quirks, and besides, don't their treatments often leave scars anyway?" Colleague two asked, seemingly puzzled.

This conversation had become increasingly unsettling, urging me to depart, yet I hesitated, wary of being perceived as rude or suspicious. I lingered silently, eavesdropping on their discussion about the incident, my fingers idly twisting a lock of my hair. Just as the discomfort peaked, a deep voice pierced the air from behind us, jolting me from the tense atmosphere.

"It is possible, though most believe it to be a myth," our boss commented as he walked past our table, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand, having overheard our discussion.

It was clear that his comment only heightened my colleagues' curiosity. They beamed with interest, their eyes pleading for more information, prompting Sir Nighteye to continue.

"It is believed that there exists a quirk where a person's blood possesses incredible healing abilities, capable of erasing any injury without a trace. However, I cannot confirm its authenticity, as there are few documented cases of such quirks ever existing," he explained, leaning against the sturdy countertop, his expression held still like it normally was.

"Isn't that incredible!? If hospitals could acquire such blood, they could save so many more people!" Colleague three exclaimed enthusiastically, others nodding their heads in agreement.