Chapter Text
It was in a soft bed when Psykos came to, nested in a featherlight comforter. The quiet buzzing of her prison cell was gone, replaced with busy chattering muffled behind a wooden door. Daylight seeped through her eyelids, warm but a little too bright. She turned away to bury her face in the fluffy sheets. They smelled fresh, with a faint sweetness, and beckoned her to succumb to sleep again. Just a little more…
Psykos was able to lie like this for an entire minute before she heard the door creak, with the chattering outside spilling in loudly.
She pushed herself up on her elbows and scowled at the door, right in time to see a girl in a black suit jump in surprise and close the door again.
“Fubuki-sama, she’s awake!”
As her footsteps quickly thumped away, the girl’s shout faded along with them.
So much for peace and quiet. Psykos sighed and sat up, burying her face in her hands. Her head was aching, a steady pound against her temple. At least it looked like she was far away from the prison, for now.
After what seemed an eternity this time, the door opened again.
Slowly, Psykos managed to lift her head from her hands. She had dozed off again even while sitting upright. Now she saw a woman approaching her, carrying a tray. Fubuki-sama, apparently. Farther back, hiding behind the door and watching the scene, was the girl from before again. She backed up when their eyes met.
“You can leave us for a while, Lily.” Fubuki said before she put the tray on the nightstand. Faintly, Psykos heard the door close, but she was more focused on her visitor now and tensed up at her view.
She looked familiar, kind of. Dark hair chopped into blunt strands, piercing stare. Strict. Psykos’ thoughts were racing. Where had she met her? She wore her sleek black dress like a queen. Irritating.
Then she picked up an apple from the tray and started peeling it. The loss of eye contact made Psykos sag a little in relief.
“Drink. Some tea might help you get better.”
There was no reason not to, so she took the warm cup in her hands. The liquid inside glistened in a lush green and had a light, grassy fragrance.
They sat like this in quiet. Psykos slowly sipped her tea and watched the stranger cut the apple into even slices. It would be relaxing, peaceful even on any different occasion, but she couldn’t hold back any longer. When Fubuki put the fruit on the nightstand, Psykos spoke.
“So… Where am I? Who are you?”
Fubuki threw her a glance. Her eyebrows were raised in confusion.
“So you don’t remember…” she said, letting out a sigh. Remember what?
“My name is Fubuki. We’re currently in Y-City, at the headquarters of the Blizzard Group. I’m the founder.”
She watched Fubuki lean back and cross her arms, with her head tilted in… what was it? Irritation? Disbelief? For what?
“We got you out of the prison. Only a few people know that you are here.”, Fubuki added to clarify.
Her explanation was straightforward, but Psykos felt not satisfied for some reason. There was still a lot of missing information.
Her headache flared up again. She pressed her eyes closed for a few seconds.
“I have sealed your powers. Your body is most likely still adjusting to it.”, Fubuki explained. “You are hurt as well. Give it some time.”
Pain forgotten, Psykos immediately shot her a glare. Her powers were sealed? She hadn’t even realised it. But there she felt it, the evidence, just as she tried to will the slice of an apple float towards her. It didn’t even so much as wobble. Instead, it was picked up by a clueless Fubuki, unaffected by the drama that happened in front of her.
With a frustrated noise, Psykos fell back into the pillow behind her and ignored the munching. The chatter outside had mellowed down a bit. Some people laughed in unison, in a relaxed and amiable atmosphere. They were probably people from the Blizzard Group, she realized.
“Get some sleep first.” Fubuki finally said. “We can still talk about everything later.”
‒ “How long are you going to keep me here?”
‒ “As long as it takes.”
She heard the chair being moved and heels clacking against the wooden floor, leaving the room.
Psykos swallowed. Of course people didn’t remember all the faces they’ve met before in their life. But she felt like this wasn’t the case here. Meeting that woman had been a crucial event in her life. The more she wracked her brain for it though, the more she noticed was missing. What was going on?
The room seemed too big all of a sudden. Empty. At least Fubuki had left the apples here.
It was for her own good, Fubuki reminded herself. She was sure Psykos would regret the things she had done eventually. With her Monster Association, she had ruined lives and killed too many people to count, and nothing could change that. Fubuki needed reasons. And, if she dared to hope, remorse. A wish for Psykos to take responsibility.
Two days had passed since she had woken up. In that time, Fubuki tried to gather as much from her as she could: what she forgot, but more importantly, what she still remembered.
Psykos was aware of her Monster Association and its downfall - how she tried to overthrow the Hero Association with a monstrous army of her own.
She didn’t remember meeting Fubuki at all. Neither their fight a few days ago, nor their days in high school.
What she did recall was the vision she had back then. She had seen things that made her lose her sanity, and caused her to found the Monster Association.
She still wouldn’t tell Fubuki what she saw. She never had told anyone.
Fubuki nearly shouted at her in frustration, but Psykos had only fallen asleep again shortly after. Why wouldn’t she realize? Whatever she saw, that it was a burden too big to bear for one person alone?
The only thing Fubuki could do, in the end, was wait. Wait for Psykos’ hollow cheeks to fill up, the dark shadows underneath her eyes to vanish. The prison she was kept in before Saitama and Fubuki had gotten her out had taken a toll on her. Psykos was neither the cheerful girl she used to know from school, nor the villain she had fought mere days ago - powerful, confident. Full of purpose.
No, she was wilted instead, hair flat and dry like straw, and limbs weak that she barely was able to leave her bed. Void.
She was broken, for her own good.
Fubuki did not dare to look at her, and she wondered whether it was because of Psykos’ ghoulish air, or because Fubuki’s throat closed up whenever their eyes met. Her chest tight, almost hurting.
She had to promise the Blizzard members that she would be okay once they left home after a long day of work. She would be the only one who would stay at headquarters overnight again, far from home. Fubuki was able to defeat Psykos during their recent fight, and she trusted her powers to defeat her once again. Especially in her current, weak state.
The Blizzard headquarters were more than a place to hold meetings. It was a cozy living space for their members, with a few guest rooms for those in need, and a spacious common room with cozy sofas, a TV and a dining table. They also had a bath and a seperate toilet, small but filled with high quality equipment.
Fubuki was currently standing in their narrow kitchen, stirring vegetables in a pan. Cooking was a luxury she rarely had time for lately, so it was rather refreshing to have a reason to do it again. She piled rice and the veggies on a plate and turned off the stove. Tidying up could wait. There was a patient waiting for her meal.
They didn’t exchange a single word. Psykos ate in silence, slow and without appetite. Her expression had darkened over the past couple hours. Fubuki tried to imagine how she felt: no recollection of their past friendship. Stranded in a foreign place. A complete outsider, robbed of her powers - held hostage, in a way.
Fubuki felt the sudden need to escape. Cleaning up the kitchen felt like a great excuse.
She stood up and left the room. Psykos hadn’t even looked up from her motionless fork.
It was evening already, and Fubuki didn’t bother to turn on the lights in the hallway. The place was quiet.
She threw away egg shells and stored the pot of rice in the fridge. Filled the sink with water for the dishes to soak.
A sudden shattering of glass broke the silence, and she found herself back in Psykos’ room, only mere seconds later.
Psykos was standing, barely so, supporting herself at the bed on wobbly legs. Even so, her eyes sparked with aggression, and her hair floated, curling like tendrils. Her nightgown rocked against her ankles, loaded with spare energy.
“Let me go.”
Psykos tumbled forward, but didn’t fall, nose wrinkled in anger. She had recovered enough to resist the seal on her powers, Fubuki noticed.
“And then what?”, she asked.
In the blink of an eye, Psykos was grabbing her collar, Fubuki’s pearl necklace tangling around her fingers. She was up in her face, fury seething through her clenched teeth. “None of your business.”
The string snapped, and the beads drizzled over the floor. Fubuki didn’t budge, blocking her way outside. She might feel bad about keeping Psykos, but she would feel much worse about letting her go. “You don’t have any clue what to do next, do you?”
Psykos’ knees were close to giving in again. She didn’t move either, frozen with indecision. Fubuki felt like she hit a nerve. Psykos’ hands were shaking from exertion.
This wasn’t like her at all. Calculating and careful, that’s how Fubuki knew her. And now, charging at her like this… It reminded her more of a scared animal. Hurt, backed into a corner. She was sorry for what she was about to do. Her green eyes lit up.
The scattered pearls rose from the ground, carried by an invisible force. Psykos’ pupils followed them in confusion, before she got hit by them with great speed. They showered down on her, driving her to back up and let go of Fubuki.
“Hey. Ow!”
She covered her face with her arms, turning away as best as she could.
“The Monster Association is gone, and Tatsumaki won’t lay a finger on you anymore.”, Fubuki said, stepping towards her opponent.
“Who is Tatsu- ow. Stop this right this instant!”
So she didn’t remember Tatsumaki either. Fubuki stopped her assault mid-air and contemplated her words.
Psykos let her arms sink, already fumbling blindly for support. “We knew each other, didn’t we? Why aren’t you telling me anything?”
Fubuki swallowed. Psykos’ stare felt so heavy all of a sudden.
What was she supposed to say? Would Psykos believe anything if she did so at all?
“Y-yeah, we did.”, she simply said. “It’s better if we wait for the memory to come back by itself.”
She picked up the shards and pearls with her telekinesis again and turned to leave. The steps of naked feet followed her, echoing through the hallway. Fubuki didn’t mind. Her mind had woven a stronger cage around Psykos’ powers in the meantime, tying it down neatly.
First, she finished taking care of the kitchen until the leftovers were stowed away and the countertops squeaky clean. She got rid of the glass shards and the pitiful remains of Psykos’ dinner.
Afterwards, she went to her office and carefully placed the remains of her necklace in a casket near her desk. Psykos was always lingering in the background, watching quietly. Picking at her mess of hair, unsure what to do.
“What if it doesn’t?”
Her voice was quiet. Fubuki looked up from a folder that she had picked up from her desk.
‒ “Excuse me?”
‒ “What if my memory doesn’t come back?”
Fubuki felt a sudden weight in her chest. She put the folder back and faced her.
“It’s too early to say. There is no rush.”
That wasn’t what Psykos wanted to hear, she could see that from the way her mouth pressed into a thin line. From how her eyes avoided looking at her, and her fingers curling her messy hair tight.
Fubuki sighed as she stepped around the desk towards her.
“Come on. Let’s get you a bath.”
She shouldn’t warm up to her, Fubuki thought bitterly. But this has been her friend, a long time ago. It wouldn’t hurt treating her decently.
The continuous swoosh of water drowned out all her inner turmoil. Fubuki felt herself relax at the mundane routine of pouring bath oils into the tub. Psykos was sitting on the lid of the toilet, head sagging as she fought against sleep. The warm air was heavy with moisture and the scent of citrus.
Fubuki turned off the tap and shifted to face Psykos. “Will you be okay if I leave you alone for now?”, she asked. Psykos lifted her head from her hand. She merely nodded and stood up.
With the door to the bathroom closed behind her, Fubuki sighed. The sudden quiet outside of the bathroom immediately brought her back to the present. What the hell was she going to do? It could take weeks, months before Psykos got her memories back. If she would get them back at all. She couldn’t keep an eye on her for that long, and she definitely couldn’t keep her at HQ the entire time. This was a gamble with a very slim chance of any gain. And she felt horrible. On the one hand, she felt like she was using her old friend. On the other hand, she was helping a villain.
Fubuki found herself back at her office. She sat down into her chair and picked up the folder from before. Amai Mask had given it to her at the Hero Association HQ, prattling about a grand opening and exhibits. The Blizzard Group was supposed to lead the ceremony, she remembered him say. She looked inside. It was scheduled to be at the National History Museum next week, and she was supposed to give a speech.
Groaning, she lay face down on the papers. As if she didn’t have enough on her mind at the moment.
She allowed herself to lie down like this for a minute. Then she sat up, determined to get some of this nonsense done until Psykos had finished her bath.
Almost an hour later, Fubuki checked the clock. And jumped up from her chair in a panic.
It was quiet behind the bathroom door, and knocking yielded nothing. With growing worry, she slipped inside.
She found Psykos fallen asleep in the bathtub. Her head rested on its rim, with peace written over her features. Her massive locks fanned out in the water, swaying around her naked body like seagrass.
Fubuki hesitated, feeling bad for having to disrupt her. But the water sure must have cooled down by now. And it was late. When she reached out to touch her shoulder, she braced herself. Psykos had been on edge the whole time, surely waking her now would prompt a flight or fight response.
Instead, Psykos merely blinked her eyes in confusion. When she lifted her head slowly, she dragged her hair out of the water, wet strands splayed over her sleepy face. She held still when she found Fubuki’s gaze.
Fubuki took a deep, steadying breath. “Come, or you’ll catch a cold.”
Psykos stretched, suppressing a yawn. Something fluffy and dry slapped against her head. A towel, she noticed, as she pulled it down and climbed out of the tub.
Her mind was foggy from sleep, but she managed to dry herself off. It was a slow procedure, her movements sluggish and tired.
Fubuki handed her a hair brush, and Psykos took it, pausing to watch her rummage around the bathroom. Lost in thought, she began to drag the brush through the dripping mess on her head. It was getting stuck with each drowsy movement, but she kept fighting, ignoring each painful sting.
At one point, Fubuki apparently didn’t bear to watch anymore and plucked the brush out of her hand again to take over. She pulled out a stool and made Psykos sit in front of the mirror cabinet.
Another towel was thrown over her head, and Fubuki began to rub her hair with an almost aggressive determination. The second it was lifted, Psykos sent her a murderous glare that Fubuki responded to with indifference.
“Sorry, but that would have taken forever.”, she said and picked up the brush again. Psykos prepared herself for the incoming pain, but all that followed was a pleasant prickle on her scalp.
Huh. How did she do that?
The tension melted out of her frame with each slow, regular pull. Her pupils idly followed Fubuki’s hand movement through the mirror.
The thick warmth of the room, the soft shwh of the bristles massaging her head… It lulled her back into a trance. Soon the brush encountered less and less knots to untangle, and it slid smoothly through her hair.
Next came the blow-dryer, and a gentle hand that pulled apart her thick strands. Somehow, watching Fubuki’s concentrated face made her feel a wave of nostalgia, a feeling that clenched somewhere in her chest and made it a little harder to breathe.
And then their eyes met, and Psykos felt caught for an inexplicable reason. She looked away.
Fubuki continued drying her hair, her fingers sorting through it until it became fluffy and weightless. When Psykos opened her eyes again, her lips twitched. It looked like a turquoise cloud had landed on her head.
They didn’t talk much after leaving the bathroom. Psykos, lying in bed in her fresh nightgown, kept wondering why she felt so familiar around Fubuki, but so on edge at the same time. She said they used to know each other… But had they been on good terms? Or were they enemies? Psykos’ powers were sealed by her after all… But then again, she took way more care of her than needed, didn’t she?
Lost in thought like this, limbs heavy and warm, Psykos slowly drifted off. She didn’t notice Fubuki entering her room one last time to put out the lamp next to her bed.