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Koichi hit the ground hard, his head rocking back and slamming into the pavement as his body skidded into a light post. Black spots dotted his vision, and his head swam, the world around him blurring into a disorienting explosion of hazy colors and wispy shapes that flickered like ghosts.
He tried to pull himself up, tried to call for help. His tongue lay in his mouth like lead, unmoving and heavy. The muffled utterances that escaped him fell on deaf ears as a dizzying abyss swallowed the last of his consciousness.
He didn’t get up.
“Koichi?”
“Kid?”
“Is he okay?”
Sharp pain roused Koichi, his cheek stinging as if slapped.
Above him, the faint outlines of Pop and Knuckleduster wavered, streaking across his vision.
Koichi blinked.
When his vision didn’t clear any, he groaned and resigned himself to the realization that he’d hit his head a lot harder than he’d originally thought.
Sure, he’d cracked his head before, but never this bad. No, this was different and much more concerning. He probably needed to get his head checked out, assuming Pop and Knuckleduster scraped his sorry bones off the pavement.
“He really doesn’t look good,” Pop noted, leaning down and poking Koichi’s cheek.
An impossible number of Pop☆Steps trailed behind her, blurring like smoke. The effect was baffling. It was as if she were blurred and liquified, his eyes capturing her actions like long exposure photography.
“What are we supposed to do with him?” She turned, streams of pink and black trailing after her head.
“We can start by getting him off the street,” Knuckleduster replied, hoisting Koichi off the ground and hefting him over his shoulder. “C’mon.”
The world rolled, and a wave of nausea welled in Koichi’s gut. He scrambled to clutch at the back of Knuckleduster’s jacket, desperate to stabilize his motion sickness, but his efforts were in vain. His sluggish hands refused to obey his mind’s wishes. When his fingers did twitch to life, a heavy numbness crept up his arms and deadened his senses.
The last thing Koichi recalled from before he’d been launched across the pavement was the hulking Instant Villain that he’d been luring through the streets. He’d searched for a safe alley to lead it down, but another villain had intercepted him. Their sneer was all he remembered.
“Jeez, Gramps.” Pop’s voice floated to Koichi’s ears. “Shouldn’t you be more careful? He’s already all messed up. What if he pukes?”
Knuckleduster only grunted in response and adjusted Koichi with as much care as he would a sack of potatoes. Pop’s muttered judgments were as lost as ever on him as they began to head down the nearest alley.
Squeezing his eyes closed, Koichi tried to make peace with his less than comfortable mode of transportation. Once more, he was helpless to his circumstances, thoroughly jostled and barely conscious as he was carried from the scene of his scuffle.
He had no clue how long the trek ahead was, and there was no telling where Knuckleduster intended to tote him off to. So, Koichi resigned himself to mindlessly counting Pop’s complaints, accusations, and commentary along with Knuckleduster’s occasional bewildering—and mildly concerning—idiosyncrasies.
“It’s a quirk,” Knuckleduster decided, peering into the depths of Koichi’s eyeball, which he’d pried open with his calloused fingers.
“How do you know?” Pop leaned closer, her brow furrowing as she scrutinized Koichi.
“It’s not a concussion. I’ve seen enough of those to know the difference.”
“Tch,” Pop tutted. She sat back on Koichi’s bed and sighed. “Why did I even ask?”
Ignoring her, Knuckleduster lifted one of Koichi’s arms and then dropped it, watching as it fell like dead weight.
“Definitely some kind of quirk,” he said again, rubbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. His eyes narrowed, and he prodded Koichi in the ribs.
“Alright. Here’s what’s gonna happen.” Knuckleduster rose from Koichi’s bedside, turning to address Pop as if they were alone in the room and not hovering over him.
“You’re gonna take day watch for the rest of the afternoon. Just do homework or something and check on him every now and then. I’ll do the night watch. If things get out of hand, we’ll take him to the professionals. He should be fine, though, so we’ll just watch him until it wears off. Got it?”
“Jeez,” Pop groaned, flopping back on the bed. “What if I don’t wanna watch him?”
“It’s part of the job,” Knuckleduster said with no room for argument. “I’ll be back tonight. If his condition worsens, call someone.”
“Call who?” Pop whined as Knuckleduster dove out Koichi’s window.
Koichi still hadn’t fully processed his predicament. At least he’d been brought home and patched up, which was more than he could have hoped for if he’d been alone when he was attacked. Still, he had no clue what was wrong with him other than the obvious: he could barely move or speak, what little movement he had was painfully sluggish and incredibly draining, and everything around him seemed to blur and flow together, except for stationary structures like walls or buildings.
If he had to name the sensation, he’d say he was caught in a state of slow-motion that only affected him and the way in which he perceived the world around him. He’d also call it horribly dull and unpleasant.
The blur of pink and black that Koichi had come to know as Pop streaked across his vision, moving away from his bed. Shortly after, she reappeared again, joined by the familiar scent of pudding.
“You don’t mind, right?” Pop hummed, already spooning the sweet substance into her mouth without waiting for the reply they both knew he couldn’t give.
She perched on the edge of his bed for a moment, staring at him through watchful eyes. Koichi could almost make out Pop’s face, the quirk’s disorienting effect made less potent by her stillness. Crossing her legs, she pulled her knees into her chest and continued to eat his pudding.
“So, now what?” she asked, more to herself than to Koichi. “You really can’t talk, huh?”
Knuckleduster and Pop had tried to interrogate Koichi when they’d first arrived back at his place, but all he’d managed to get out were garbled groans that were entirely incoherent.
Koichi tried to nod in response and immediately regretted the decision. The quirk punished any attempt at movement, draining his energy down to its dregs.
“Hey, hey! Just sit there, ‘kay?” Pop scooched closer to Kochi, sitting beside his propped up body. At least Knuckleduster had been kind enough to rest his back against the wall so that he wasn’t entirely prone.
“Well, I guess I’m gonna do homework,” Pop mused, tapping her spoon against the pudding cup’s rim.
Finishing her snack, Pop scampered out of sight. She returned with her school bag in hand and made herself comfortable, spreading her notes and books across the floor before sprawling on her stomach amid the organized mess.
Much of the afternoon was spent this way: Pop grinding through her insurmountable workload, and Koichi watching her—or trying to anyway. Her pencils were a kaleidoscope of colors as they danced across her pages, and her legs, kicking in the air behind her, blurred into a muddy shadow that made Koichi feel sick if he watched them for too long.
Unable to move, Koichi’s mind wandered. He thought about school and how he’d have to look for work soon, vigilantism and everyone he’d come to know through it, and his mom and what she’d think if she knew what he was really up to in Naruhata. She’d disapprove, of course. Mostly, though, he thought about Knuckleduster and Pop and how, without meaning to, they’d become family to him.
They didn’t have to scoop him off the streets, but they had. Nor was it necessary for them to patch him up, but they did.
For so long, he’d only thought of them as his master and his friend. Perhaps they were more to him than that; perhaps they’d become precious to him. And if their actions didn’t mistake him, maybe, just maybe, they felt the same.
Before long, Koichi began to doze, his inactivity lulling his body to sleep beneath the heavy blanket of his warm thoughts.
Koichi stirred to the sound of Knuckleduster maneuvering through his window. Why the man didn’t just use the front door was beyond him.
“Ah, kid. You’re alive,” he grunted upon finding Koichi where he’d left him. “That’s good.”
“Of course he’s alive!” Pop squawked before slamming Koichi’s fridge shut. “I would have called!”
“Called who?” Knuckleduster questioned.
Koichi couldn’t believe his ears. Despite his fondness for the pair, he couldn’t deny they weren’t the sharpest tacks in the box. The irony of this realization was lost on Koichi.
“You said to call someone! If I don’t know ‘who,’ that’s your fault!” Pop stomped through Koichi’s room and prodded Knuckleduster in the chest.
“Eh, well.” The man shrugged. “He’s fine, isn’t he? No need to fuss.”
“No need to fuss? Are you kidding me?” Pop’s indignation saturated her spluttering, and her voice rose in volume and pitch. “He could be comatose, ya know?”
“He’s not,” Knuckleduster replied calmly, unphased by Pop’s theatrics. “If he was, he wouldn’t waste energy opening his eyes halfway like that.” He gestured at Koichi before moving past Pop and removing his jacket.
Much to Koichi’s relief, he found that his vision had improved, albeit not by a significant degree. Quick motions blurred together, but he had an easier time identifying them. He also had less trouble moving his limbs, though doing so still consumed considerable energy.
“Get goin’,” Knuckleduster advised Pop. “I’ve got him, and you need to get home.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled, throwing her books and supplies into her bag. When she finished, she wandered over to Koichi’s side. “I’ll come back tomorrow to make sure he hasn’t left you for dead, okay? Sorry this sucks so much. It’s your fault for being so reckless, though. So I don’t feel too bad for you. Just don’t die while I’m gone, or I’ll be mad.”
For a moment, she hovered at his side as if she had more to say, her cheeks rosy and brow pinched. Koichi could almost make out the look of uncertainty wavering on her face.
“I’m not going to leave him for dead. Have more faith in me, kid.”
Pop’s lips pinched, and she turned abruptly from Koichi, the quickness of her action making his head spin.
“I don’t care what you do,” she huffed. Her attitude did little to sell her blatant lie, but neither man commented as she marched from the room.
“Alright, kid, let’s look at ya,” Knuckleduster said, coming to Koichi’s side.
As he had the day before, he set about poking and prodding Koichi: peering into his eyes, jabbing him in the ribs, testing his severely limited reflexes, and even prying his mouth open to look at his tongue. Thankfully, he didn’t stick his fingers in. Had Koichi the energy to shudder at the thought, he certainly would have.
“You look good—better than before,” Knuckleduster stated, clapping a fist into his palm. “Guessin’ she didn’t feed ya, so I’ll get something cooking. Sit tight.”
Trepidation coiled in Koichi’s gut. He could do little to stop Knuckleduster from rummaging about in his kitchen, and rummage he did. The sound of pots, pans, and cupboard doors being carelessly slammed about rang through the apartment.
After the banging and clattering subsided, humming floated from the kitchen, eventually followed by the mouthwatering smell of curry. Koichi’s stomach grumbled, reminding him how long it had been since he’d had breakfast that morning. Hours had begun to feel like days; his stomach agreed as much.
“Alright.” Knuckleduster returned to Koichi's bedside, sporting an apron Koichi hadn’t realized he owned and a steaming bowl of rice topped with curry. “It’s time to get something of substance in you. This’ll get your energy back and help your body fight against the quirk. Think you can swallow?”
“Mmm,” Koichi hummed weakly.
Sitting beside Koichi, Knuckleduster—carefully for once—fed him little bites of curry and rice. He waited patiently for Koichi as he struggled to swallow it down and didn’t hassle or hurry him.
Koichi was extremely grateful for Knuckleduster’s efforts. He’d landed in quite a frustrating situation and couldn’t do much to help himself. Without Knuckleduster, he’d certainly have gone without dinner.
“Rest up,” Knuckleduster said, dropping the spoon into Koichi’s now-empty bowl. “I’ve got some calls to make.” Leaving Koichi’s side, he stepped outside, this time using the front door.
It occurred to Koichi that the man hadn’t eaten any of the curry. He’d made it for Koichi simply because he’d known that he needed it. Koichi’s eyes prickled at the thought.
Again, affection welled in his chest, spilling into his veins and warming him from head to toe. Somehow, Pop and Knuckleduster had become his home away from home. He’d miss them when it was time to move on.
Over the next several hours, Knuckleduster checked in on Koichi, not that he’d have realized. He’d long since fallen asleep and was peacefully existing in a dreamscape where he’d never have to part from his friends.
Morning light and the sound of someone lumbering about in the kitchen woke Koichi. His eyes opened with much less effort than he’d needed the day prior, and a promising sigh of relief escaped him.
Being out of commission for the day had been bad enough; he wasn’t sure how he’d have fared if the quirk’s worst effects lasted longer. Even though vigilantism took up most of his time, he still had college and couldn’t afford to forget it.
The sound of his front door opening was followed by Knuckleduster rattling off marching orders meant for Pop.
“Rice is in the cooker. Eggs are in the fridge. There’s tea. Don’t give him coffee. It won’t help. Oh! He’s talking now. Muttered in his sleep a lot. He should be comin’ out of it. Might even be able to feed himself.”
“Feed himself? Oh jeez,” Pop whined. “He better be able to eat by himself. I’m not gonna sit here and spoon-feed him breakfast.”
Cautiously, Koichi tested his limbs and was pleased to find that the majority of his usual mobility had returned. His muscles ached, but he was able to pull himself out of bed, which was a feat that had proved impossible the day before.
“You’re up?!” Pop yelped, flailing her arms at the sight of Koichi awkwardly advancing on them.
“Quirk’s mostly worn off.” Knuckleduster grinned. “I’ll be heading out, then.”
“Wait,” Koichi rasped, drawing nearer.
His friends hovered in place, waiting and watching him closely.
Using every ounce of strength he had, Koichi threw his arms around their shoulders and pulled them into a hug.
“Thanks, guys. I owe you.”
Pop flushed and tried to squirm out of his grip, muttering about how he always said the weirdest and most embarrassing things, but Koichi held fast, only wincing a little when Knuckleduster clapped him on the back.
“No need,” the older man said simply. “It’s part of the job. Just be careful. You gotta hit them before they can hit you.”
“Sorry for the trouble.” Koichi bowed his head sheepishly.
“Don’t apologize,” Pop tutted. “Just don’t do it again, okay? You really worried us.”
“Alright, I’m out for real. Got work.” Shrugging out of Koichi’s reach, Knuckleduster hopped out the window and took off.
“Jeez, what is with that geezer?” Pop groaned. “Hey, you got more pudding?”
A content smile curled Koichi’s lips. Change was inevitable. Hoping things would stay the same with Pop and Knuckleduster was foolish. So instead, he wished for something more practical; he wished that he’d always have room in his heart for the memories he made with them. If he managed that, it would be enough.