Chapter Text
Satomi is dressed as Sweet Dream as she checks in as a visitor at the hospital. She feels a bit strange, walking down the hallways to visit a little boy, but it’s not the first time she’s done hospital visits— so long as it stays out of the press like she prefers, it’s fine— so when she reaches the pediatric ward, she makes sure to keep her nervousness from being in the hospital from showing. It’s a brightly lit and colorful ward. Meant to make it feel happier or not as scary for the kids, from what little she knows of hospital design. When she reaches the correct room, she pauses outside of the opened door and knocks on the doorframe quietly. She can see Akimitsu’s back is to the door and a little boy with breathing tubes coming out of his nose is playing with a little all might action figure. Akimitsu jerks when he hears the knock and stands quickly, turning clumsily to face her.
He looks better than the night she met him on the roof, his hair is washed and the dark rings under his eyes aren’t quite as prominent and he smiles at her like she’s done something just by being here, “Sweet Dream! Come in. This is Haruki. Haruki, look who came to see you.”
Satomi smiles at the little boy when he smiles shyly and raises one tiny, pudgy hand in a wave, “Hi, Haruki, I heard you’ve been feeling a bit sick. Is it okay if I come and hang out with you for a bit?”
The little boy raises his action figure, “Wanna play with me?”
She takes a seat beside Akimitsu and laughs, “Absolutely. I actually brought you a toy, if that’s okay.”
She glances quickly at Akimitsu to make sure she hasn’t overstepped, but the thin man just nods reassuringly to her and says to his son, “You hear that? Sweet Dream even brought you a toy.”
The boy’s shy smile turns into a much wider, excited one and he claps his hands together excitedly before asking in his high-pitched little voice, “Hero toy?”
“Yeah, yeah I figured you might like a hero toy or two,” Sweet Dream doesn’t have any official merchandise. She’s a underground hero, but every so often there’s some little kid she meets that decides they want a toy Sweet Dream and Satomi is terrible at saying no to children. So she has a few made just in case. She pulls a plush toy out— she cringes at the fact she’s a plush toy, but little kids love it— of the bag she brought with her and hands the kid the toy.
The boy grabs it with all the strength his little body is able to muster and squeals, high and reedy, as he hugs it, before he asks with far more confidence now than when he greeted her, “Daddy said you’re a hero. Can I be a hero too?”
Satomi knows his condition isn’t good, that his chances aren’t the best, but she nods and tells him without hesitation, “Of course you can, Haruki, I bet one day you’ll be a better hero than me.”
“Then I’ll help people too!” Haruki declares and he continues to crush the plush toy she gave him.
“Yeah, then you’ll help people too,” She agrees easily, “Now what about that game you mentioned?”
She spends nearly half an hour playing with the little boy in the hospital bed before the nurses need to take him for some scans. When the boy is gone for tests, Akimitsu’s smile falls away and she can see the exhaustion on his face, “His quirk is making the treatments difficult to give him.”
“What’s his quirk?” Satomi is asking before she can stop herself.
“He can manipulate metal, whenever they try to draw blood or inject medication, he gets scared and blunts the needles or outright makes them bend backwards,” Akimitsu leans back in his chair, “They do what they can to stop it, distracting him, giving him rewards after, all sorts of stuff, but he’s a three year old and that means a three year old’s tantrums, even if he is a sick one.”
Satomi nods, “I see, is this one of his good days? Health wise?”
“Yeah, he’s doing really well today. He’s almost like he was before he started having the seizures,” He shakes his head, “All the quirks in the world and no one can just make a brain tumor go away.”
She wishes she had a name in her book of angels that could do that, but she’s no miracle worker, she stands and puts a hand on his shoulder, “He seems like a little fighter. And he has you fighting for him too. Keep it up, Akimitsu.”
“I will,” He nods and looks up at her, looking like he’s not sure what to say for a moment before, “It’s okay that I called you, right? I don’t want you to feel like you have to show up just because I have some sob story or anything.”
“Call whenever you need, it’s not trouble and your life isn’t a sob story. Bad things happen to everyone, part of my job is trying to make things better,” Satomi assures him, determined to make the man understand he and his son are in no way burdens or wastes of her time. She thinks of what he’s said about his son’s quirk being a problem and it creeps into her mind that she knows someone who could help, if she asked nicely. If he was feeling helpful.
Akimitsu makes a face, as if unused to help, “I can’t repay you.”
“I don’t expect you to,” Satomi says sternly as she begins to walk to the door. “Ever. That’s not why I’m helping. I need to go, now, I’ll check in on you two again. Call if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” he says as she steps out, “I can’t tell you how much your help means.”
She’s had enough of the thanks and appreciation and steps through a near by shadow to reappear out on the streets. She inhales the fresh air and pulls her cell phone out as she turns down an alleyway to minimize being noticed as she walks around in her hero uniform. She grimaces as she dials the number and waits for Aizawa to pick up.
“Shouta speaking,” Is the curt greeting she gets when he picks up.
“I need a favor,” She knows he dislikes her, knows he’s pissed and she can’t even remember why, but there’s a little kid who’s quirk is making it hard to get him the necessary treatment and that makes more than either of their discomfort.
“Is someone dying?” He drawls.
“Yes, actually,” She snaps as she crosses an empty street.
“Explain,” the word is a sharp command, all dislike vanishing as his need to help a person in need takes over.
“There’s a little boy who’s sick, dying, and he’s got a metal manipulation quirk. He gets scared and his quirk messes with the needles and equipment used to treat him,” She explains and leans against a wall in an alleyway between apartment buildings as she waits for his response.
He makes a growling noise at her, likely expecting a much more urgent situation, “You want me to erase his quirk? I can’t be there every time he needs medicine, Takagi.”
“I don’t expect that, obviously, just every so often, I can talk to the doctors for you and found out when it’s most important they be able to treat him or test him or whatever and set up a schedule, maybe?” She doesn’t expect him to do more than maybe help once or twice. Just something to make it less difficult for everyone involved until they can show the kid it isn’t scary.
There’s a silence on the other end and a noise of annoyance, then he says, “Fine. I’ll help if they let me. How old is this kid?”
“Three,” She answers automatically.
“Quirk came in early,” He comments blandly, “Is this all you needed?”
“Yes. Thank you,” She can tell this is the end of the professional curtesy. The dial tone immediately following her words confirms that. Rude asshole. She can feel the head ache building behind her eyes again. She’s already sick of the headaches and she’s beyond sick of Aizawa’s attitude. He needs to tell her why he’s angry. Or someone needs to tell her anyway. And soon before she makes a scene over it.