Strings (BNHA x OC) [Rewrite]

67 || A Magician's Care

Puppet's mind felt muddled as she regained her senses and began to come back to consciousness.

First, it was her sense of hearing that came back. It was fairly quiet, though it sounded like there was light rainfall outside of where she was.

Next, it was her sense of smell. An odd combination of must and wood wafted through her nose, and it made her head spin.

Then, it was the dreaded sense of touch and feeling. Her entire body had this dull ache that made her feel like the moment she moved, she would be in excruciating pain. That aching seemed to be especially present around her stomach.

She could feel that she was lying down across some cushions with a plush pillow beneath her head. There was something soft draped over her, which she concluded was probably a blanket.

Where...? she questioned. The last thing she remembered was her lying in pain on the ground, and the voice of someone yelling.

She needed to know where she was. For all she knew, she could be in a hospital, although, with the lack of the stereotypical sanitation scents and beeping machinery, it was unlikely.

She let out a crackling groan, squeezing her eyes firmly shut before blinking them open.

Initially, her vision was blurry. She tried to blink it away, which after a bit, began to work. She swallowed, feeling the thick dryness of her throat.

Then, she heard a sound. To be specific, she heard footsteps tapping along what she thought sounded like a wooden floor. Whoever was there was coming closer.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. You were out for a while, my dear," they said.

She knew that voice. She couldn't put her finger on who it was for a moment, but then it clicked.

..Atsuhiro, she realized.

She looked over, finding her closest friend.

Mr. Compress was dressed in his usual attire — his orange shirt and black vest. But, he wasn't wearing his hat, mask or balaclava. She could see him as he was — a person.

He walked over and knelt down to beside the couch, and she appreciated not having to crane her neck to look at him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Puppet lifted one of her hands from beneath the blanket and rubbed at her face, trying to dispel the drowsiness over her.

She didn't feel the ceramic of her mask, and he noticed her brows knit.

"No one is around but myself, so I kept your mask off," he said before asking again, "How are you feeling?"

"Awful," she croaked, her voice raspy from tiredness.

He frowned. "That seems right."

"How long have I been out?"

"Almost two days."

She finally took a moment to look around, finding that the two of them were in what looked like the living room of a home. The room was dimly lit and made all the more dark by the dark wood of the floor and navy blue paint on the walls.

But it was only the two of them.

"Where are the others?" she asked.

"I don't know. We parted ways so I could take care of you," he answered. "I told them to call me should they need me, but my main concern right now is you, not them."

If she wasn't in so much pain, she might've laughed at his selflessness. It wasn't something villains were known for.

Ignoring the ache in her body, Puppet went to try and sit up. She was stopped as pain exploded in her stomach and she sucked in a sharp breath.