Another curse escapes your lips as the syringe was left stuck in your arm, Dabi had long kicked off Juan but now you were left to cradle and nurse the newly added wound.

     You cried out again, much less from the numb, stinging pain from the needle, but more-so what it meant now that the contents of the syringe were now in you. The pink entering your system felt normal enough, what felt like cold liquid snaking itself under your skin making the hairs on your body stand on end and tears escape your eyes. Oh no, oh fuck, you're going to turn into one of them.

     "Run!" Dabi lifts you up to your feet with a quick tug to your uninjured arm, stumbling after him as he takes off. Your head bobbed around as you tethered on the brink of unconsciousness, blinking away the strong, foreboding feeling of passing out just waiting for you to give in. Juan was on the floor where Dabi had kicked him to, a relishing look on his cursed face as they made no efforts in giving chase. You didn't have much of a complaint on that aspect, simply trying to blink away the sudden and intrusive feelings of drowsiness that made your eyelids heavy, your legs limp and your thoughts fuzzy.

     You were still heavily leaning on Dabi as you run home, your eyes that could hardly focus turning to the syringe still sticking out of the back of your arm. It was embedded way past your sweater and bandages, thankfully missing any other wound that might have been present in that specific area. You swallowed a lump, managing to remove Dabi's grip enough for you to reach over and yank it out.

     It felt like it was buzzing for a few moments, before you were left with nothing but tears pooling around your eyes and the small remnants of the pink liquid sticking in the edges of the container. Dabi was still looking over both of your shoulders to make sure you weren't followed, panting, small new cuts on his face but nothing serious anywhere else. "Fuck, how long do we have?" 

     You figured he was asking about the effects of the ooze; that he was expecting you to have a answer ready that would prepare the both of you for the worst that might come. But. . . you couldn't. You had no answer to give, especially when you felt yourself slipping and falling forward lifelessly. 

● ● ●

     "Y/N, come on, quit that. You're gonna end up ripping that thing." 

     Dabi had been kind enough to leave you in your room with a note, another one left downstairs in the kitchen where he was sure that your roommate would—hopefully—see it and be aware of what was going on. You woke up the next day in a cold sweat, taken care of to the best of Jirou's abilities but in the end left with paranoia that you were sure could only be fixed by seeking answers from a professional.

     And said professional gave little to no ease as to what was happening, in the end exiting the doctor's office with a crumpling paper in your hands showing results to be negative and the musician beside you trying her best to reassure you. 

     "You heard what Layla said, Kyoka! I don't want to end up losing this life that I built just because I let some fuck-o inject me with shit!" Your voice raised in a way you weren't exactly trying to do on purpose, fists clenching all the more as you reread it over and over. No abnormalities, no signs of any disturbances save for patterns indicative of stress—it was like a chant taunting your every thought as you scanned each word in a goalless effort of searching for something that might prove you were, in fact, not crazy. 

     But the more the same words repeated, the more you felt like you were.

     You knew that something was going to happen. You knew that Layla was right, because you already met what you were supposedly going to turn into, and you knew that it was in the realm of possibility. 

     So why oh fucking why did it come back negative when you knew that something was wrong?

     "I know, I know, but you're just going to keep stressing about it and you're gonna end up spiraling. The good thing is, nothing's happened so far, right?" You bit down your lip so hard you could've sworn you started tasting metal, the lines forming on the paper from how hard you gripped it spreading to the rest of the page. She was right, she always fucking was, but a part of you wanted to keep worrying.

     To every problem that you'd face, there was always going to be a more rational side of things; a way to look at a situation through a lens that didn't involve you stressing over every single little detail. But. . . you couldn't. Maybe it was a part of human nature, or maybe it was just the way you were—either way you couldn't help but want to feel upset over anything that might happen. Whether it'd be a small problem blown out of proportions, something life changing, life threatening. . . you always insisted on making yourself feel like shit over it despite the many signs that pointed to at least a somewhat, less grim outcome. 

     "I guess. . ."

     Before you knew it, you were back walking the same halls in Melissa's school. With the same strict looking woman who seemed to be stiffer in her movements than the last time when you reached the halls leading up to Blue's laboratory. 

     Hall after hall, another turn. . . before finally arriving at the yet-again carbon copy of all the other doors in the building with her nameplate in full display.

     The woman turns to you with. . . what you could only describe a sullen look, offering a kind smile as she turns on her heels and walks back the same way you had all just taken. Leaving no chance for comfort or any other words to be exchanged, you knocked on the door in urgency with the underlying sense of hesitance haunting each contact with the metal surface. "Layla? Are you in here??" Jirou had long given up trying to stop you, sighing quietly as she lets it happen. She understood the severity of the situation, she knew that, but knowing that the chemist's answer could make or break whatever outcome you might end up having—she knew that pretending to be levelheaded would serve little to no use.

     The door slides open with a familiar hiss, sending a chill down your spine as she stands there with a raised brow. She looked the same from when you last saw her, but the girl squinted for a few moments at you two before letting out a quiet 'oh'. "Layla, we need your help. The pink thing, the drug it—it got me, they injected it into me I'm fucking screwed," Perhaps it was your pleading look, or she just felt sympathy over your situation. Either case she lets you in, quietly taking note of the crushed document in your hand before you even handed it over to her.

     "The doctors said they saw nothing, they said I'm fine, that nothing's wrong—but this thing isn't normal! I. . ." You sigh, running a hand through your hair, taking a few breaths as the girl got to examining it with her brows furrowed. "I don't feel anything different. Nothing hurts, shit feels fine, it really does but it's panicking me! What's gonna happen to me?!"

     Jirou had long disappeared into the background, only reappearing as she landed a hand on the small of your back for moral support. She'd run out of words to tell you long ago, knowing that she knew too little to even have anything to say that might be of value to the situation. She sends a glance back to Layla, who was chewing on her bottom lip as blue eyes scanned the paper intensely. "Well, for starter's. . ." She flipped it over, checking the apparently existing second page held together by a small and very subtle staple. It looked to be a scan, but Jirou was too far away to recognize it. "The only reason the test results went negative is because this thing hasn't settled yet."

     You stayed quiet to let her explain, watching as she nods to herself as though confirming her statement, "Yeah, it is. This thing's less of a drug as it is a virus, and even those things take time to develop obvious symptoms. I can't pinpoint how long, but I'd estimate like, three days, before your body starts to reject it." She lowers it, staring blankly at something as if gathering her thoughts and trying to find a way to explain it in proper wording, "It'll probably start out like a normal fever, but even that's give or take. Once this thing starts to feel like home and messing around with the stuff inside you, your body'll reject it and fight it off. Standard stuff, only this time," Now you see her start to hesitate, giving it a few moments of silent contemplation before she sighs.

     "And this is the part where I say I'm gonna need those 'extra information' to know what'll happen. I have a vague idea, but I'm sure you'd want a definite answer." Your face drops as she starts neatly trying to smooth out the paper on the table, a thoughtful look still present on her features as you look on in hopelessness. "But to ease your nerves, this thing is laying pretty dormant. And I'm gonna guess that it's going to need an outside source to activate it, so we can only really watch out for that."

     You watch as she goes around to grab anything she might need to do. . . whatever, random tidbits getting swept up as she goes along the room. "But, even it hasn't settled, shouldn't have the doctors noticed anything?" Jirou asks, finally making herself known, "Like anything at all? They said that it all came up blank. And even if the virus, drug, thingamajig hasn't settled yet, shouldn't there be an obvious disturbance or change made to her body on the inside?" 

     Layla nods, a quiet look of surprise on her face as if to say she wasn't expecting her to get that. "That's a pretty simple explanation. With much thought and experimenting, it was pretty clear that this drug's main ingredient is of a. . ." She once again tries hard to look for a word, moving her hand around trying to help her do so, "Like an. . . exclusive part of the human body you can only find on the 'creatures'. It's abnormal enough to notice it if you know what you're looking for, but human enough to be able to get passed off as an everyday cell. It's hard to explain, but yeah whatever." 

     She came to a halt at a cabinet, opening a small drawer and rummaging inside a few moments, "Problem is though, I don't know what this specific part is. I don't know what type of cell it is, and I can't draw a proper enough conclusion to really know where this thing might have come from." Finally she emerges with. . . a syringe. "I'm gonna have to draw some blood and manually check it myself."

     "But wait," Jirou once again asks, even more confusion dawning on her face the more the doctor explained, "Didn't you also say that there were other ingredients in the drugs? No way those doctors didn't notice that." And once again Layla nods, still impressed with her memory and curiosity on the subject. Although she couldn't exactly blame her, this was your life on the line after all. "Either those doctors are incompetent enough to not notice it, incompetent and irresponsible enough to let any abnormality get brushed off, or those elements just got digested and disappeared into the rest of your body. Who knows, it might've even camouflaged." 

     You raise a brow at that, letting her lead you to where she could properly draw out the blood. "Camouflage?"

     "Yup," She grabs some alcohol and a bag of cotton, setting it on the mid-table of the entire room, "Like, it's getting passed off as a regular cell that you'd normally see in your body. But that's just a hypothesis, it probably just disappeared. When did you say this injection happened?" You opened your mouth to answer a 'Yesterday', losing it along the way as you felt the needle enter. 

     Surprisingly enough she got it, nodding as she continued. "Then that's the more likely case. It's happened last night, and your body probably already got rid of it in the time it took you to wake up, get ready for work, and then go to the doctor to get tested." You didn't really have an opinion on needles, the little shits something you thought you'd honestly gotten used to the older you got. You never thought that in a million years, you'd ever associate it with getting kidnapped or attacked in a random street.

     "Well, that's just about what I can give you. There's not much to go by with just tests alone, especially since none of us have any notes or info from the people who made them, that might actually prove or otherwise disprove any theories we might develop." She kept the materials, stuffing them away as she looks at you with a shrug. "Sorry, you were probably thinking of coming here in search of a proper and definite answer. But that's just about what I can give you."

     You sigh as you turn to her, nodding and getting ready to following Jirou out. "No, no, it's fine, you helped a lot. Thank you so much again, Layla." She hands you the papers back, the lines from your poor handling still visible but evidently smoothed out to the best of the scientist's abilities. "Of course. Though, on another note, you might want to get some pain meds. Seeing the. . . situation, at hand, there is the high, gruesome possibility of this transformation and your body battling against it hurting like a bitch."

     You frowned. Not at the advice or Layla herself, but from the fact that you didn't have a way of fighting against it save for some pharmacy pills. "Ah. Right, yeah, I. . . I will."

     Blue looked unbothered enough, a sense of professionalism still evident even in the way she looked disinterested and cut off. "While we struggle with the whole 'lacking information' part of this thing, I'm gonna be doing some work here. There's always the possibility of this thing failing and me getting things wrong, which is wishful thinking but a possibility nonetheless. I'll try my best to get any form of an antidote here."

     A part of you was glad that she was willing enough to lend out a helping hand, the scientist like your go-to ex-machina and walking info-dump. So with a final bid goodbye, you and Jirou walked off to exit the building with a new heavy feeling on both of your stomachs.

     The walk back was an uneasy silence, the two of you not really knowing what to do in a situation like this.

     Hell, there wasn't a situation like this. It was downright, unrealistically, straight out of any work of science fiction!

     The musician looks over with a guilty look, sadness evident on her features as though she was ever the one who caused you problems. Jirou doesn't show it much, much less voiced it out in a way that made sense, but she really did care. Sure it wasn't the conventional way of caring—if the girl even knew what conventional meant—but she showed it in ways that made sense to her and you got used to.

     "So, how'd Dabi bring you back inside your room without me noticing?" You turn to her instinctively to answer the question, but pause with a raised brow trying to actually understand it. You. . . what? Why wasn't she asking about the actual, very real issue on hand?

     "Oh. Well I. . ." You try and recall, not exactly realizing soon enough that you were, y'know, passed out when he carried you back inside your home. "I don't know, he kind of has a secret entrance that he uses. He hasn't shown it to me, and even if he did, I'd doubt I can do much with the information." She scoffs, now actually genuinely interested in what you had just explained, "Wait so this dude can just come and go as he pleases?" You give it a few moments of thought, but nod upon recalling all his. . . late night visits.

     "Pretty much, yeah." You honestly though you had played it cool, casual enough to just respond and leave it at that. But you didn't miss the growing look of amusement on your friend's face, and she didn't miss the embarrassment on yours. "Oh. Oho, oh my God. So. . . so I was right this entire time teasing you about it? Should I start muffling my ears tonight??" More heat rose to your face, your glare not entirely being well received as the start of one of her infamous cackles start to bubble and grow in the small confines of her throat.

     "Oh my gosh, Y/N I—you naughty vixen, you!" She bumps your hip with hers, whining in complaint as you tried to keep her away. "Dude what the hell, pervert!" This makes her laugh even louder, somehow forgetting that you were in a highly sophisticated building dedicated to studies in various fields of science, each with it's own significance and help to various industries and day to day life that—

     "Why are we even talking about this?! We should be trying to find a way to solve. . . this thing!" You gestured to your entirety and the paper still in your hold, complete nonsense if heard out of context, but it seems that Jirou got it. "I know, I know. But you were going to start spiraling, so I did what I did best and started yapping." She teased a finger in a poke to your arm, swatting it away with a hiss but an underlying sense of gratitude. She had a weird way of showing her care, and you appreciated it, really, it's just that you'd literally rather die than tell that to her out loud.

     In the end you left that building with a sour taste in your mouth, a newfound sense of appreciation for your body as the growing feeling of fear in losing it loomed dark in the background. It was only a matter of time until something happened, and you needed all the distraction that you could get until then.