Chapter Text
“What do you mean you’re sick?” Marinette demands.
Tikki moans pathetically. She lies on Marinette’s pillow bonelessly and refuses to move, demonstrating exactly what she means.
“But—you’re a kwami.” Marinette tugs on her messy hair and groans, comb forgotten off to the side. “That’s equivalent to a god. How can gods get sick? Is there some kind of kwami virus? You couldn’t have told me about this earlier? Now all my theories are wrong!”
Tikki does not reply. That alone shows how sick she is.
“I don’t suppose ibuprofen works on kwami? No?” Tikki makes a negative sound. Marinette sighs, “Do you think we can pass you off as a quirked cat—no, wait—a…cat with some sort of skin condition? Where is the nearest vet clinic—”
“Mari—” Tikki makes a dying cat noise, further reinforcing Marinette’s idea. “You…you have to take me to…Fu…the…healer…”
“Healer?” Marinette blinks, looking up from where she was trying—and failing—to grab her phone without leaving her bed. “There’s a kwami healer?”
“N—yes.” Tikki groans again. “T…take me there…please…”
“Okay.” Marinette nods, then glances at the clock. She wrinkles her nose. “Looks like I’m missing class today.”
“Hi, Maman!” Marinette exclaims as she rushes past the living room. She pauses to grab a bun, before continuing, “I found a stray kitten on my balcony, so I’m taking her to the vet now. Can you call the school and tell them I won’t make it to class today? Thanks!”
She ducks out of the door just as Maman comes into view, her arms crossed.
Marinette sighs as she hurries out of the backdoor of the bakery, a loud cry of “Marinette!” echoing at her back.
“Okay,” she sighs, taking a bite of her bun, “now what?”
This so-called kwami healer of Tikki’s lives in a decrepit massage parlour.
Marinette sighs, looking at the yellowing sign stuck to a door in an alley. The door itself is made of wood, chipped and easily destroyed. This healer must either be poor or not care much about appearances.
It can’t be any more obvious that this ‘massage parlour’ is a front, not unless someone sticks a sign to the door proclaiming ‘this is a front’. Marinette has seen drug deliverers put more effort into their pizza delivery services.
To be fair, civilians probably can’t tell anything is wrong.
Shaking her head, Marinette raises a hand to the door handle.
To her surprise, the handle gives out easily under her hand. The door is unlocked.
Huh. She expected to have to pick the lock.
Marinette makes her way up the stairs behind the doorway. The yellow lightbulbs flicker ominously above her. Totally a normal massage parlour.
There is another door at the end of the stairway. Quietly, she opens the door.
An old man sits in an empty apartment, his back to the door and a futon next to him. A green kwami floats in front of him. The kwami gives a small cry of alarm as the door opens, and flies off before Marinette can get a good look at them.
The old man turns. He blinks at her, eyes wide. She blinks back at him.
Wait. She has seen this man before. Isn’t he the one she saved from the traffic a while ago?
“…the door is unlocked,” Marinette says.
“This is a massage parlour,” the man replies carefully.
Marinette shrugs. At least he’s trying to stick to his cover. “Are you Monsieur Fu?”
“Master Fu.” The man corrects.
Marinette nods. “Right.” Carefully, she cups Tikki in her palms and pull the kwami from her purse. “You can heal her, right?”
Master Fu frowns at Tikki, his bemusement evaporating as if it has never been there. He takes Tikki from Marinette’s outstretched hands, carefully laying her on the futon.
“Thank you for bringing your friend here, Marinette.” Master Fu says as he rummages in a cabinet, finally pulling out a full-sized gong out of a drawer. It shouldn’t have been big enough to hold the gong. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Does your miraculous let you heal kwami?” Marinette asks, perhaps a little too tactlessly.
The man freezes. “You—I don’t—”
“You can heal kwami.” Marinette points out before Master Fu can finish making his excuses. “That requires knowledge of what kwami are. You and Tikki are obviously acquainted. And you were talking to that green kwami when you came in, which means you also have a miraculous. Plus, you know my name.”
The man blinks again. He exhales evenly, before saying. “I should’ve known not to underestimate you. It’s an honour to finally meet you, miss sorceress.”
Wait. What?
This time, she is the one whose brain fails to load properly. “…I’m not a sorceress.” Marinette replies awkwardly.
“If you say so, sorceress.” Master Fu inclines his head. “I understand that times are hard, and one must hide their magical prowess to live in normal society. That being said, I’m impressed by how well you hid your magic. I didn’t realise you are a sorceress until you began to use your magic as Ladybug.”
…use her magic as Ladybug?
Oh.
Oh.
Did he mistake One For All for magic?
At least Marinette won’t have to scramble for an excuse to explain why she has abilities not granted to her by the Ladybug miraculous.
“Thank you,” she says, at least semi-sincerely. Aizawa-sensei always said the best cover stories are the ones people make up for you. Marinette isn’t about to throw this golden chance away. “You’re the one who gave me the Ladybug miraculous, right?”
Master Fu nods, “That day we first met, I ran into traffic on purpose. I wanted to see if anyone would save me. We could sense the Butterfly miraculous—the one Hawkmoth has—was about to be activated, so we were in a hurry to find new holders for the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous.”
“Ah.” Marinette nods. He isn’t just a miraculous holder, is he? “So you are…”
“I am the Guardian of the Chinese miraculous box, and the last of my line.” Master Fu smiles. “We—that is me and Wayzz, the kwami you saw just now—have been guarding the miraculous for a very long time. But—let’s heal Tikki before we continue this conversation, shall we?”
Oh. Right. Did she really let herself get so carried away…?
Marinette carefully controls her expression so she doesn’t flush red, but it’s a near thing.
What would Aizawa-sensei say?
“Of course,” She replies measuredly, sitting down next to the futon, and watches curiously as Master Fu gets to work.
It takes well over an hour of periodic gong sounds and mystical chanting, but Tikki finally gets better.
As the tired kwami inhales the cookies Marinette brought with them—she’ll have to restock later—Marinette drills Master Fu on knowledge about the kwami. Wayzz comes out eventually, and Marinette finds herself curious about what Chaton’s kwami is like.
She leaves when the akuma alert on her phone sounds, with the offer to become Master Fu’s apprentice hanging at the back of her mind.
All things considered, it’s a pretty good day.