I stood at the infirmary door flanked by my two "guides," feeling like a particularly valuable piece of disputed territory. Yuzuriha's tail had somehow worked its way around my ankle while Momo maintained perfect posture on my other side, her disapproving glances at Yuzuriha's tail speaking volumes without a single word.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered, more to myself than either of them.
"What was that?" Momo asked, her attention immediately shifting to me.
I sighed. "Nothing." I pushed open the door, wondering what fresh hell awaited me inside.
The infirmary was pristine, all white surfaces and stainless steel. It smelled strongly of antiseptic with an unexpected undercurrent of... butterscotch? My gaze immediately locked onto the source of this strange combination: a diminutive elderly woman sitting behind a desk, a bowl of yellow candies at her elbow.
Recovery Girl looked exactly as described in the U.A. brochure – tiny, ancient, and radiating an aura of absolute authority that belied her grandmotherly appearance. She glanced up as we entered, her sharp eyes taking in the whole tableau in an instant.
"Well, well," she said, her voice warm but her gaze clinically sharp. "Nasty-looking claw marks." She squinted at me over her glasses. "Ah, the Murano boy. Present Mic was just telling me about you. Said you could 'get lost walking down a straight line.'"
My smirk tightened involuntarily. That man's mouth should be classified as a public safety hazard.
"It's an exaggeration," I replied smoothly. "I can walk straight lines just fine. It's the turns that give me trouble."
Recovery Girl made a noncommittal sound and gestured to the examination bed. "Sit. Let me see what happened to you."
I complied, shrugging off what remained of my torn jacket. The claw marks across my chest and arms looked worse in the bright infirmary lights – red, angry lines that had mostly stopped bleeding but still stung like hell.
"These will need cleaning," Recovery Girl pronounced. "Infection from animal scratches is no laughing matter."
"I'm not an animal," Yuzuriha protested, her ears flattening against her head. "I'm a human with a feline-type Quirk."
"Same difference when it comes to bacteria under those claws, dearie," Recovery Girl replied without looking up.
Momo stepped forward, her arm glowing pink as she activated her Quirk. A perfectly formed high-end first aid kit materialized, which she held out with both hands toward Recovery Girl.
"Recovery Girl-sensei," she said with formal politeness, "as his partner, I took the liberty of preparing some basic sterile supplies to assist you."
I raised an eyebrow. The look on Momo's face wasn't just helpful – it was triumphant. She was staking her claim as my "official" partner, complete with medical knowledge.
Yuzuriha scoffed, leaning closer to me. Her tail, still wrapped around my ankle, tightened.
"Oh, Princess, don't bother with your toys," she purred, lightly tracing a finger near one of the cuts on my arm. I tried not to flinch at the touch. "These are my marks. I know exactly what kind of... aftercare... they require to heal properly."
Recovery Girl glanced between the two girls, then let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of several decades of teenage drama. She tapped Momo's creation with her cane.
"Put that toy away, dearie." She turned to Yuzuriha and tapped the tail coiled around my ankle. "And you. Unhand the patient. He's a student, not your personal scratching post."
Both girls looked startled by the old woman's directness. Recovery Girl fixed them with a stern look that brooked no argument.
"A patient requires a sterile environment, which is currently being compromised by an excess of teenage hormones. Out." She pointed outside. "You can wait there until I'm finished."
"But—" Momo began.
"Out."
Yuzuriha unwound her tail from my ankle with reluctance, while Momo vanished her first aid kit back into her arm. They shot each other venomous glares before shuffling out to the waiting area.
As soon as the door closed, Recovery Girl turned to me with a knowing look.
"Shirt off. Let's see the damage."
I complied, wincing as the fabric pulled at some of the dried blood. Recovery Girl examined the scratches with clinical detachment, occasionally making small "hmm" sounds. She reached for a bottle of antiseptic and began cleaning the wounds methodically. It stung like fire, but I kept my face neutral.
"You realize what that was, don't you?" she asked, not looking up from her work.
"Two attractive classmates fighting over who gets to help the wounded hero?" I suggested with my best charming smile.
Recovery Girl snorted. "Your partner," she nodded toward the door where Momo waited, "sees you as a project. A fascinating, chaotic variable she can organize and perfect." She applied a bandage. "The other one sees you as a prize. Something shiny to be won."
I blinked, surprised by her blunt assessment. "You got all that from thirty seconds of interaction?"
"Dearie, I've been watching hormone-addled hero students for longer than your parents have been alive. These patterns repeat themselves." She moved to another scratch, applying more of the stinging antiseptic. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
"Enjoy the attention?"
Recovery Girl gave me a look that made me feel about two inches tall. "Nezu doesn't bet on losing horses, young man. The faculty has high expectations for you. Don't get so tangled up in all... that... that you make him regret his wager."
Recovery Girl finished applying the last bandage and stepped back to examine her work. "There. All done. Your wounds are superficial. I could heal them completely with my Quirk, but it would drain your stamina, and you've already had a taxing day." She pulled a butterscotch candy from the bowl on her desk and handed it to me. "This will help with the taste of antiseptic. Now get out of my infirmary. And try not to let any more cats use you as a scratching post."
I unwrapped the candy and popped it in my mouth, savoring the sweet butterscotch flavor. "Thank you, Recovery Girl-sensei."
She waved me off, already turning back to her paperwork. "Go on. Your entourage is waiting."
I pulled my jacket back on, leaving it unzipped over my bandaged chest, and stepped out into the hall. Momo and Yuzuriha stood on opposite sides of the small space, the tension between them practically visible. The moment I appeared, their attention snapped to me like compass needles finding north.
Momo's eyes immediately went to the bandages. "Did she use her Quirk? How are you feeling?"
Yuzuriha's tail swished behind her. "Looking better already," she purred. "Though I do feel a bit bad about ruining your costume."
I looked from one to the other, seeing the stalemate for what it was. They were waiting for me to choose – to walk toward one or the other, to indicate a preference, to settle their silent contest. The power dynamic was clear: I was the prize they were competing for.
Time to change the game.
I walked directly between them, then stopped. Without asking permission, I draped my left arm over Momo's stiff shoulders and my right arm over Yuzuriha's. I pulled them both in slightly, a move that was simultaneously friendly, arrogant, and utterly dominant. Momo went rigid with surprise, while Yuzuriha's tail froze mid-swish.
"Alright, ladies," I drawled, letting my lazy smirk settle firmly back in place. "I'm starving. As an apology for causing me all this trouble, you're both buying me lunch."
The silence that followed was profound. Momo stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
"You want us both to... buy you lunch?" she repeated, as if checking she'd heard correctly.
"That's right, Princess. You two caused me physical and psychological damage. The least you can do is feed me." I squeezed her shoulder lightly. "I hear the udon in the cafeteria is excellent."
Yuzuriha recovered more quickly, leaning into my side with a sly smile. "And what exactly did I do to owe you lunch? You're the one who interrupted our villain roleplay."
"You used me as a scratching post," I replied, maintaining my grip on both their shoulders as I started walking, forcing them to move with me. "That deserves at least a bowl of noodles."
Momo still seemed shell-shocked by the turn of events but allowed herself to be guided forward. "This is highly irregular."
"Welcome to U.A.," I replied cheerfully.
We made an odd trio walking down the hallway – Momo stiff and confused on my left, Yuzuriha fluid and amused on my right, and me in the middle, pretending this was the most natural thing in the world. Students passing by did double-takes, and I swear I saw Present Mic's jaw drop as we rounded a corner.
"By the way," I added casually, "if anyone asks, I valiantly defended myself against a vicious cat-monster and emerged victorious."
Yuzuriha's claws extended just enough to prick through my shirt. "Watch it, pretty boy."
"Fine, fine. A beautiful and deadly cat-monster. Better?"
Her claws retracted. "Acceptable."
Momo cleared her throat. "This isn't proper hero conduct."
"Heroes have to eat too, Princess. Consider it team bonding." I gave her shoulder another squeeze. "Besides, you were magnificent with that cannon. I owe you lunch as much as you owe me."
A slight pink tinge appeared on her cheeks. "I was just doing what was tactically sound."
"And it was glorious. A masterpiece of destruction. I've never seen someone look so elegant while firing heavy artillery."
She ducked her head slightly, but I could see the small smile tugging at her lips.
We reached the cafeteria, still locked in our three-person configuration. The late afternoon lunch rush had already begun, with students filling tables and lining up for food. As we entered, conversations faltered and heads turned.
"You realize everyone is staring," Momo murmured.
"Let them," I replied, finally releasing both their shoulders. "They're just jealous."
Yuzuriha stretched, her tail swishing behind her. "Of you or us?"
"Yes," I answered with a grin.
I headed for the lunch line, leaving them to follow or not as they chose. To my mild surprise, they both fell into step beside me – still keeping me between them, but no longer glaring daggers at each other across the divide.
A project.
A prize.
Was that really how they saw me? And what did that make them to me?
I glanced at Momo, methodically selecting the most nutritionally balanced meal on the menu, and then at Yuzuriha, charming an extra portion of fish from Lunch Rush with a flutter of her eyelashes.
Complications. Beautiful, dangerous complications.
And somehow, I didn't mind at all.