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It was a dreary day when their team found Hitoshi. The island experienced a series of thunderstorms and erratic, and U.A. expected a rise of injured and beached Mer. There were a few who lived in nearby coral reefs and the like, and they were close enough to human civilization that storms weren’t their friend, for the most part.
The team consisted of Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu, and Iida Tenya. Midoriya Izuku, another member of theirs, had been injured a few days ago, and Aizawa forced him to recover. He’d attempted to calm down one of their Mer’s who experienced a panic attack and said Mer nearly bit through his arm as a result. In Katsuki’s defense, it was typical of his behavior, though the Mer had an intense dislike of Midoriya’s presence.
Their expedition proved a lack of injured Mer for the first two hours—and then they bypassed a small, caved in area, and Asui shot her hand out to make her coworkers stop. “Do you hear that?” Asui asked quietly, barely heard over the pour of the rain. They strained to hear what Asui had, but, for a brief minute or so, all one could hear was the torrential downpour.
Then—
A quiet whine.
The area was too slippery and tumultuous for just themselves, and, from what they could see, Hitoshi had lost too much blood—but U.A. was accustomed to life-threatening situations when it came to their rescues of Mer, so Iida called for backup.
Aizawa arrived within minutes, Best Jeanist and Mandalay on his heels. Recovery Girl, due to her age, stayed in the company vehicle until she was needed. It took an hour and a half, with Jeanist using his quirk to safely guide Hitoshi without aggravating injuries, and Mandalay using her quirk to inform Hitoshi of their actions, but they were able to safely rescue Hitoshi and heal his most life-threatening injuries. While Recovery Girl could use her quirk on Merfolk, it tended to mess with their natural healing abilities. They only had her use it if it was a horrible situation.
Hitoshi’s situation was pretty horrible.
(Uraraka still had nightmares about it.)
That was nearly a month and a half ago, however, and while Hitoshi was still injured, he was in a much better state. His scales weren’t as sickly looking, though it was difficult to tell the color pattern, still. His tail, fins, and claws were re-growing, though much slower than Aizawa liked. His eyes didn’t have that dazed sheen anymore, which was a signal to the staff he had been drugged to the nines.
He could inhale oxygen for longer than ten minutes before he went into shock. The first time they’d learned exposure to oxygen without a filter of water harmed Hitoshi, it nearly sent the entire facility into shock.
They’d never had a Mer be allergic to oxygen before.
“Good morning, Hitoshi~!” Uraraka gave the Mer a kind smile as she stepped onto the metal bridge of his tank. It wasn’t really a tank in that it was limited in space and capacity. It was designed to mirror natural habitats Merfolk lived in and, therefore, spanned almost forty feet. Uraraka often likened it to a pool sunken in by a few feet. “Betcha you’re hungry, hmm~?”
A scratchy hum echoed from Hitoshi’s vocal cords as he inched forward. He couldn’t sprawl atop the bridge as they were positioned too high for the workers’ safety. Eijirou, another Mer on rotation, was a Mako shark-type, and while he was . . . very gentle for shark-types, Mako sharks, in general, were capable of leaping almost twenty feet.
Uraraka dipped the bucket of fish—still alive as it was imperative for healing Mer to strengthen their predatory skills—over the edge.
Clouds of red bloomed.
While Hitoshi wasn’t the fastest Mer Uraraka has seen, especially with the state of his fins and tail, he was fast enough. The salmon didn’t stand a chance. Uraraka hummed as she observed Hitoshi chase the remaining fish, enjoying a game of cat and mouse—or, at least, the Mer equivalent. She updated Hitoshi’s charts on what she observed, making sure the iPad wouldn’t get soaked, and noted his increase in enthusiasm for hunting.
She remembered when Hitoshi had an extreme dissatisfaction with hunting, and he’d mostly been too injured to move as fast as he was accustomed to. It’d gotten bad enough that Aizawa slipped into the pool and handfed the Mer wriggling fish when mealtimes arose. Don’t even get Uraraka started on the supplemental medicinal pills Hitoshi needed to consume to regain the vitamins he’d been lacking.
Sekijirou—or Vlad King as most of the staff called him—theorized that whoever injured Hitoshi had likely drugged him through a pill-like form as needles broke when pressed against a Mer’s skin. It was the only explanation of how defensive Hitoshi had become whenever Aizawa tried to feed him the vitamins. It was the only time Hitoshi had ever injured a staff member.
Uraraka didn’t know who looked more horrified at the sight of Aizawa’s blood, Hitoshi or their wet-behind-the-ears intern at the time, Monoma Neito (Uraraka threw a party when Monoma finished his internship with them; the blond was annoyingly entitled). Hitoshi had remained evasive the entire day, curled deep in his den.
Aizawa coaxed him out of it eventually, almost around two in the morning, and Uraraka remembered the way Hitoshi trembled. As if he expected Aizawa to be violent with him over his earlier actions. A rage unlike what she’d ever experienced had curled deep in her lungs at the sight.
Midoriya eventually suggested they crush the pills and scatter them into the water. Thankfully, the method worked.
“Having fun?” Uraraka teased and made sure her voice was high and lilted. Hitoshi reacted violently to raised voices he registered as aggressive.
Hitoshi chirped in response right before he snapped his jaws around the tail of the last salmon. The soft crunch of bones and ripping flesh floated in the air. Uraraka had worked at U.A.’s Rescue & Rehab. since she volunteered at fifteen (working with the adorable babies) and grew accustomed to the sight (and sounds).
Compared to some of the Mer she was on shift to feed (read: Katsuki, a red lionfish-type, and, much to a lot of peoples’ surprise, Yui, a wrasse-type Mer), Hitoshi was a polite and clean eater.
Hitoshi submerged into the water once the breakfast was consumed. Uraraka watched him as he did a few slow laps until she switched with Asui. Hitoshi looked a bit petulant at the sight of Asui, decked out in her U.A. swimwear, knowing it signaled the beginning of exercises he’d be coaxed into doing. They were exercises meant to increase his mobility and flexibility, and Asui’s quirk made her appear similar to seafolk than the rest of the staff.
Hearing the tell-tale splash of Asui entering the pool, Uraraka exited the area and went to wash her hands. She scrubbed it three times, because they smelled like fish, before she glanced at her schedule. A meeting for those on Hitoshi’s “team,” save for Asui, would be held in five minutes.
It was mostly an update Hitoshi’s progress—or lack thereof—and what interventions they might need to host. She knew they were still in murky waters regarding Hitoshi’s well-being. It was difficult to know what happened to him—Uraraka wasn’t stupid nor naïve; majority of Hitoshi’s injuries were created by human tools—as no one wished to retraumatize him by taking blood samples.
They were able to take a few blood swabs and scale samples when they’d rescued him (Mer shed scales when they were severely injured or ill), but the labs still worked on comprehensive results. Uraraka had immense trust in their research team, though, and knew they’d find something conclusive if Ectoplasm (or Hatsume) had anything to say about it.
Uraraka took a moment to grab a drink from the vending machine in the breakroom and made her way to the meeting room. It was on the second floor and positioned above Hitoshi’s pool, the ceiling-high windows letting them see Hitoshi go through his exercises.
“I’m here,” Uraraka announced as she stepped inside the room, grin bright and a little tired.
A chorus of greetings floated in the air; Aizawa and Iida already there. Her lips twitched at Aizawa’s presence, though, thankfully, the man was more attentive to the scenes below than to Uraraka’s amusement. For a man with a notorious reputation of despising meetings and falling asleep virtually anywhere (and highly suspected to be a dhampir, given his red gaze), he was attentive to Hitoshi’s progress.
Then again, most of the staff were—even Nezu, and the director rarely interacted with Mer anymore, more consumed with his other duties. Hitoshi’s case was the most intensive one they’d ever seen. Most of their R&R work focused on Mer caught in fishing nets, or beached, or injured to need a two-week, at least, recovery, or—in Eijirou’s case—finned, or—in Katsuki’s case—clipped and injured from an illegal smuggling ring.
There were a few Mer abandoned around the time of their birth, either because of the death of a pod or other circumstances, but they mostly lived in the nursery levels.
For a while, Uraraka wondered if Hitoshi would be able to pull through.
Aizawa hummed. “How is he?”
“Good,” Uraraka chirped, taking a seat beside Iida. “He was playing with his food a bit this morning.”
Iida made a soft noise. “I believe that’s a good response!”
If there was one thing Mer loved, it was playing with their prey. If what Uraraka remembered from her Merfolk courses, their culture had childhood games out of it.
Uraraka took slow sips of her drink, wanting to savor the sugary goodness, as their team members drifted inside. Each Mer on their rotation had a team of, at least, five staff members. Most of their responsibilities and tasks were taken in turns, but Aizawa, given his seniority over everyone, was the leader. Asui did most of Hitoshi’s exercises, and Uraraka, likewise, tended to be the best person for food shifts. Hound Dog did their psych evaluations for every Mer.
Midoriya and Todoroki stumbled in at the same time, clothes a bit rumpled. Uraraka, ever one to be a little shit to her friends, lightly whistled. “Had a fun rendezvous?”
Midoriya squeaked and sputtered a random string of nonsense. Uraraka laughed hard enough she almost choked on her drink. Todoroki, per usual, gave everyone his customary blank expression. Kouda ambled in while Uraraka laughed, Sero and Aoyama following. The last member of their team was Selkie. Uraraka wasn’t sure of the seal-like man’s actual name as he only responded by his nickname.
“Let’s start.” Aizawa drew his eyes away from the window and focused on the team. He motioned in Iida’s direction, who obligingly booted up the PowerPoint. “As Hound Dog is out today, I’ll start with his updates on Hitoshi’s mental health.”
Uraraka took diligent notes on her (company-issued) iPad and paid attention to those who gave their updates. According to Todoroki, one of their few veterinarians, Hitoshi’s fins experienced a slow regrowth, and his scales lacked the typical vibrancy a Mer should have, and he had a developing fever.
“Likely due to the drugs exiting his system,” Todoroki explained with a pinched brow, his subtle tell that he wasn’t pleased. “I’d like for us all to be a bit more observant to his health, and Recovery Girl agrees with me when I’ll say that Hitoshi will, most definitely, relapse with a fever.”
Grimaces echoed the room.
No one liked what happened when a Mer was ill with a fever. Their scales peeled and shed, color patterns dimming, and they just—looked so vulnerable, it always made Uraraka emotional. And the sounds. The pained whines and whimpers they produced made her heart ache.
Uraraka raised her hand. “This is—off topic, but do we have any progress to what kind of Mer Hitoshi is?”
“Unfortunately, we don’t,” Aizawa sighed. “Kouda, Selkie, have you been able to communicate with Hitoshi about it?”
Selkie shook his head. “I think Hitoshi’s still too intimidated by my size . . . he tends to hide whenever I’m around.”
Kouda’s hands fluttered with nerves. He’s very guarded about his pod and deflects every question I’ve asked.
Having someone on staff who could speak with animals was a blessing in Uraraka’s opinion. Most of the rehabilitated Mer either couldn’t or didn’t wish to speak in human tongue. Save for Katsuki whenever he wanted to express how idiotic he found them all.
Even with Kouda’s quirk, however, it took Hitoshi nearly three weeks before he responded to their attempts at communication.
Sero hummed, chin propped on his hand. “I could spruce up his pool?” At their responding stares, Sero added, “We could see how he reacts to the décor . . . I know some Mer are very particular about where they live, and we could do a checklist of his reactions.”
“Not a bad idea,” Aizawa nodded and looked vaguely approving. Sero brightened. “Email me a list of what you’re thinking of updating, and CC Thirteen.”
“Will do!”
The rest of the meeting went by like the rest: little progress, though hopeful, on Hitoshi’s end. Uraraka glanced at the time and noticed it was nearing Hitoshi’s lunch shift. Aizawa and Midoriya followed her as she grabbed one of the food pails, this one filled with tuna instead of salmon. She liked to mix up the offered food, knowing the diversity Mer got when they hunted in the ocean.
Asui bypassed them with a nod, padding her hair with a towel, as she made her way to the locker rooms. When she stepped onto the bridge, she saw that Hitoshi was sprawled over one of the coral beds Sero had designed. Was he using it as some sort of backscratcher? Did Mer even get itches on their backs?
Uraraka whistled in a tune she used to signify meals. Hitoshi twitched at the sound, but slowly made his way to the bridge after a moment. He gave Aizawa and Midoriya curious glances, but his gaze was mostly trained on the bucket Uraraka was starting to dip.
Like breakfast, Hitoshi chased his prey for a bit before he ate them. He used his jaws for the most part as he was still declawed (and, ooh, when Uraraka got her hands on whoever clipped Hitoshi, she’d – do various illegal things).
“That brand . . ..” Midoriya descended into a series of mutters, though Hitoshi didn’t seem bothered by the noise. Aizawa clicked his tongue and raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to ask Midoriya to get to the point, before Midoriya blanched. “Isn’t . . . Isn’t that a, ah, Shiketsu . . . clipping? On – on his arm right there?”
Tension rose into the area. Uraraka stopped breathing.
Aizawa kneeled on the bridge and gathered Hitoshi’s attention. As the Mer favored Aizawa out of everyone on staff, it didn’t take long for Hitoshi to swim up and give another scratchy, curious chitter at Aizawa.
“Your arm,” said Aizawa as he reached out a hand. “Let me see it, Hitoshi.”
Most of U.A. spoke to their Mer patients as though they were cognizant humans. Their trainings stressed the knowledge that Mer were capable of, not only, understanding human speech, but speaking it if they were taught. “They’re in recovery, yes,” Aizawa would say. “But that doesn’t mean they should be babied—unless, of course, you work in the nurseries. Don’t patronize them. Talk to them like you would anyone else.”
Hitoshi looked hesitant and, for a moment, they feared he’d swim away and disappear inside his den for the rest of the day, but his arm rose in the air a moment later. It mostly resembled a human arm and hand, if one disregarded the shimmered scale patterns, and the four webbed fingers. A fin was attached to what would be his elbow if he were human, but it was shaven and clipped—as if someone had held Hitoshi down and drove a knife . . .
Uraraka stopped her train of thought. Unless she wanted to clean her vomit from the pool. Hitoshi might actually kill her if it happened.
If Aizawa were uncomfortable with the texture and feeling of Hitoshi’s arm, his expression showed nothing. Midoriya leaned close to better examine the clipping that Uraraka, and everyone else, assumed was a series of tears and cuts.
“I admit I’m unfamiliar with Shiketsu,” Uraraka found herself saying, voice quiet in response to the tension. “But, uh . . . aren’t they, like, another rescue center?”
“Sure, on the outside,” Aizawa said in a tone that made Uraraka stare. She’d never heard her supervisor sound so bitter and . . . enraged before. “That’s definitely Shiketsu-made.”
Midoriya made an agreeing hum. “It . . . it doesn’t look like they chipped him . . .”
“Our systems would’ve detected it,” Aizawa murmured before he gently patted Hitoshi’s arm with a soft smile that, again, made Uraraka stare. “Thank you, Hitoshi.”
Hitoshi’s expression was unreadable before he produced another scratchy sound and disappeared beneath the water. Uraraka watched him burrow through a seabed of seaweed, tail idly swishing behind him, before she turned to her colleagues.
“So . . .,” she started, “. . . what does this mean?”
“It means something Nezu and I’ve been trying to reveal for years,” Aizawa said, his expression settling into something fierce and protective. Uraraka pitied anyone who got into his way now. “Shiketsu’s either abusing the Mer in their care, experimenting on them . . . or doing both.”
U.A. had a strained relationship with Shiketsu.
While Shiketsu also functioned as a recovery center for Merfolk, they tended to focus on the science end of things. Nezu suspected there were—unsavory things going on behind the scenes since their opening. He eyed any facility that had a goal of “furthering the field of marine science” when it came to Mer.
Aizawa ordered Uraraka, Iida, and Asui to return and canvas the site where they’d found Hitoshi sometime within the week. Iida, ever the prepared one on their team, scheduled them to go as early as six am the next day. U.A. had sectioned it off with the proper tape and paperwork, temporarily seizing the area as U.A. property via investigative clauses, so there were no issues with potential removal of evidence from the scene.
At least, Uraraka hoped.
Hatsume decided to tag along, her eyesight quirk helpful even when they weren’t in the middle of a thunderstorm. When Uraraka stepped out of the car, she expected to see something changed with the scene—but it looked unchanging, even under the early dawn.
They were dressed in their uniformed wetsuits, though ones that had gloves attached to it so they wouldn’t smudge anything with their DNA. Midoriya stayed near the shoreline, mostly because four people were already too much in the small space but also to keep an eye on the surroundings.
Uraraka bagged the dried scales she’d found, and took a few swab samples of a weird, orange-like substance she found interesting enough to hand to Ectoplasm, when Hatsume spoke, crouched around the area where they’d found Hitoshi sprawled on the jutting rocks, whimpering and gasping wetly around his injuries and fear.
“I found something.”
Uraraka didn’t like Hatsume’s tone, and she definitely didn’t like the small device pinched between her hands, crusted with sea salt and dried blood. “Please tell me that’s not a tracker.”
“I’m going to be a disappointment,” Hatsume said in a light tone that didn’t match her expression at all. “It’s a tracker.”
Fuck.
While she knew it was a potentially horrible idea, Uraraka ignored the legalities and investigation U.A. and the Department of Merfolk Welfare launched. It made her head spin as she tried to wrap her mind around the terminology and proceedings. Uraraka was, first and foremost, a marine biologist; not a lawyer.
Even with her limited knowledge, however, she knew it was illegal to chip Merfolk with trackers unless their types were specifically endangered—like, for example, Taishiro (or Fatgum as he was affectionally nicknamed), who was an orca-type Mer—and the kind of tracker Shiketsu used . . . deliberately poisoned Hitoshi.
Ectoplasm and his team rushed to breakdown the poison and create an antidote, which they had done with a few days, thanks to the utter insanity of Hatsume when she was challenged. Uraraka noticed a healthier sheen to Hitoshi’s scale patterns after two days, much to everyone’s relief.
The fact that Hitoshi had been found nearly dead (and slowly poisoned), the tracker ripped out of his skin by his own hands . . . didn’t paint the nicest pictures of Shiketsu’s procedures.
Midoriya Inko and Hisashi represented U.A. and Hitoshi for the case. They were a ruthless duo in the law world, and Uraraka knew enough of the two to pity Shiketsu’s law team.
As most cases do with the Mer, it gained public attention. Uraraka saw that Hitoshi had a trending hashtag on a few social media sites, and, for her sanity, ignored them as best as she could. She wasn’t in the mood to read someone be dismissive and inhumane toward Merfolk.
Someone did start a campaign and raised nearly a million yen in funds for U.A., though.
Hagakure, one of their staff members in charge of U.A.’s social media, took various photos of Hitoshi—once he expressed his consent over it (it took a good two hours for Kouda to explain, and they found out Hitoshi was an enthusiastic fan of cat videos)—doing his exercises, swimming, napping, etc., and uploaded it on U.A.’s official Instagram.
The trial lasted two weeks, in which Hitoshi improved immensely now that his immune system wasn’t fighting poison, and revealed nearly three decades worth of abuse and experimentation of Mer. Shiketsu’s executive director and board had been charged with abuse, torture, neglect and experimentation of Merfolk, along with embezzlement and fraud of governmental funds, and unethical practice of science.
Shiketsu’s rescue center had been shut down indefinitely, though before that happened, Nezu pulled a big fuck you to the business and bought it once it was on the market. The man liquified Shiketsu’s assets, relocated the few Mer into their facility—Uraraka had been a part of the evacuation team, her quirk useful in those cases, and was exposed to just how . . . damaging Shiketsu had been; one of the Mer didn’t look older than four years, and most were dead—and had a team of trusted members comb through its’ archives. Unfortunately, they discovered that a few ex-scientists had corrupted their files, but Nezu cheerfully stated it just meant he had a “challenge.”
Uraraka shivered in remembrance of the directors’ smile.
While most of the faculty and staff in Shiketsu were either imprisoned, on house arrest, or had their licenses revoked, there were a few who escaped punishment unscathed save for a plummeted social life. Unpaid interns and newly employed workers who had absolutely no idea what Shiketsu had been doing. Much to everyone’s surprise (well, the public, that is), Nezu employed those who wished, stating it wouldn’t be fair to punish the naïve.
Of course, those workers weren’t allowed anywhere near the Mer until Nezu and Aizawa deemed them trustworthy.
U.A. was still unaware of Hitoshi’s type, but he slowly adjusted to their presence and insistence they would never do him harm. He recognized that U.A. was a facility of healing, but habits were difficult to break . . . who knew how long he’d been in Shiketsu’s care?
Sero enacted his plan for landscaping and designing Hitoshi’s pool. Hitoshi was curious at their actions, though he mostly swam through his den as he watched Sero and a few of their workers add aquatic décor. While Hitoshi reacted positively to what was essentially a bright coral reef, nothing about his behavior screamed out a specific type.
Aoyama suggested they place fish in the pool that Mer registered as “nonfood.” There were a few species Mer had a nonparasitic relationship with and could coexist peacefully. Aoyama and Asui ordered reef safe fish that were also nonfood to Mer, along with a few additional items to make them adapt to a new environment.
Nothing conclusive arose from that direction—but it did look like Hitoshi adopted what looked to be a small goldfish as a pet. Hitoshi had even created a space for the little guy in the coral garden beside his den and was very protective.
Uraraka then thought about subtle changes in Hitoshi’s diet. “What if we see which fish he likes to eat?” she suggested at one meeting. “Like, I know Mer tend to eat whatever they hunt, but different types do have preferences!”
She spent almost a week brainstorming a plan of action for Hitoshi’s feeding habits and started slow. While they wanted to know his type, they didn’t want to impede his recovery. Uraraka noticed, almost immediately, that Hitoshi either couldn’t consume or ignored saltwater fish. He consumed freshwater prey, though he could stomach a few species that were known to thrive in brackish water.
Uraraka watched him dismantle crabs and lobsters with ease, his claws nearly at a normal length for a Mer. Seeing the way he snapped open clams and oysters was almost life-changing to Uraraka’s eyes, as she remembered how it used to be.
Hitoshi didn’t just eat fish and crustaceans, however. He seemed to enjoy human food, much to the collective heart attack of everyone on staff.
One of their interns, for some reason, ate watermelon while they were near Hitoshi’s pool, tripped and dropped said watermelon into the water. Before Aizawa could reach for their nets to scoop it out, Hitoshi had, quite literally, devoured the watermelon, expression somehow blank and curious at the same time. Pink stained the Mer’s teeth.
Todoroki had to be physically restrained by Sero’s tape. Aizawa placed the fear of the god in the intern as human food wasn’t allowed in the pool areas. Some Mer became deathly ill when they digested a diet of human food, so Nezu simply outlawed its’ presence around Mer.
The entire staff was on edge for a few days, and there were a handful of members observing Hitoshi’s behavior and scale patterns. Aizawa and Todoroki repeatedly asked Hitoshi’s consent to check his temperature or feel the texture of his skin to see if any rashes or the like were developing. Hitoshi watched them all with an amused tilt to his lips, as if he knew something they didn’t.
Uraraka had the feeling Hitoshi laughed at them all, but she wouldn’t blame him if he were.
One thing that changed, however, were his scale patterns. It was still a slow process, but they brightened and shimmered with a vibrancy unlike what Uraraka had ever seen before. A delicate pattern of lilacs, silvers, and hints of black bloomed across Hitoshi. The hint of black mostly existed across the ridges of his spine and back fins.
The pattern itself, though—
“I’m probably wrong,” Uraraka said, to no one in particular, as they watched Hitoshi play some sort of endearing game with the clownfish. “. . . But isn’t that a Kawarimo pattern? Like, in koi?”
Midoriya made a noise. “I think it’s more of a Showa-type pattern, actually . . .”
“It could be,” Aizawa interrupted before they could delve into a debate over the color patterns of koi. “However, purple isn’t a natural occurrence in koi . . . especially not that delicate of a coloring.”
Uraraka hummed. “You’re right . . ..”
So then, she thought, what type is he?
There were some days where Hitoshi liked to float on the surface of the pool. As UA had sprawling windows and screened roofs, sunlight easily poured in from all corners. Mer loved to sunbathe—well, most of them, as Uraraka remembered there were a few colonies that existed in the darker parts of the sea—and it was something both fact and stereotypical.
Uraraka was doing her rounds with Todoroki and another intern, simply checking to see if anything were wrong or if any of their Mer needed attention, when she noticed said sunbathing habits. The scratchy purr-like noise they associated with Hitoshi floated in the air, following a few chirps here and there. Their intern, a girl named Kendou Itsuka, frowned,
Uraraka eyed her, hoping she wouldn’t say anything rude. “Something wrong?”
Kendou startled. “Um, no?” She paused, glanced over at Hitoshi, and added, “Well . . . it sounds like his throat is injured?”
Uraraka stopped. Todoroki stopped. Kendou watched their expressions with a wide gaze. While they were aware, realistically, of the potential damage done to Hitoshi’s throat, it was difficult to balance their need to know Hitoshi’s injuries and their want to not retraumatize him with their efforts.
Hatsume designed an underwater camera that essentially functioned as an X-ray. Asui slipped into her wetsuit and attempted to take a picture of as close to Hitoshi’s throat as she could get to. Of course, Hitoshi wasn’t comfortable with the device in her hands and descended deep into his nest.
Not even Kouda’s explanation or Aizawa’s presence would ease Hitoshi’s anxiety over the camera. They decided to leave it be and hope the injury would heal on its’ own.
Another week passed before one of their nighttime employees, Todoroki Natsuo, updated Hitoshi’s notes with an observance that the Mer seemed lonely, and often had red-rimmed eyes, as if he were crying or close enough to it. Uraraka hadn’t known it was capable to cry underwater—then again, she wasn’t a Mer.
Their next meeting found Aizawa laying out a barebone framework of a plan to introduce Hitoshi to a few of the Mer on their rotation. No one wished to neglect any of Hitoshi’s needs while he recovered, and Merfolk had a thriving culture of healing and recovery. Uraraka knew close bonds were an imperative part of the process.
But.
That was a story for another day.