[center][h2]Akeno Kudo[/h2][/center]

She ended up not going to the hospital in the end. Instead Akeno had taken the first aid kit offered to her by Grim’s drone and dealt with her injury herself, making her way to a public restroom where she spent an hour trying to treat her wound in the grimy mirror under the wavering light of a fluorescent bulb on its last legs. Not the best conditions to be administering first aid in, especially when she wasn’t even trained, and the result reflected that; an uneven line of stitches stretching across the side of her stomach, an inch or so below her ribs that would undoubtedly leave a scar.

Turning, she stared at the jagged mark in the mirror, the one in her dorm room this time, and sighed. Yeah, it was going to be a [i]nasty[/i] scar. Not the smartest decision she had ever made, nor the most pleasant.

Perhaps she should have just gone to the ER after all and spare herself the discomfort. That would mean having to answer questions though, like explaining how she got stabbed in the first place; they might even have alerted the police and after the conversation with Grim she was feeling a little wary of having that kind of attention sent her way. She could just tell them she had been mugged or assaulted and that the attacker had brandished a knife; it wouldn’t even be that much of a lie. It would have been a risk though; particularly if they looked at her medical history and realised this wasn’t her first time making a late night visit to the ER that year. She’d dislocated her wrist a few months earlier and had to get it checked out, and then there was that other time she thought she’d broken her ribs only to be told they were just bruised.

No, it had been the right decision to do things herself. People might start to ask questions if she kept making late night visits to the emergency room; it was bad enough when people in her classes or her dorm mates gave her funny looks because of all the bruises and scratches she showed up with. Cheaper than the hospital too, which was a factor she hadn’t considered when she first started wearing a mask to beat up bad guys.

Being a hero was [i]expensive[/i], even when your costume was monochrome gym gear and you didn’t have any fancy gadgets.

Hearing her phone ring in the other room, she let her tank top fall down to cover the scar and exited the bathroom; at least it the kind of thing she could hide under her clothes. She picked up her mobile from her desk where she had left it, next to an open textbook and the paper that she definitely wasn’t going to be able to finish in time. A glance at the screen showed her the call was from exactly who she had expected, but she still hesitated for a second before answering. After a moment to steel herself she accepted the call and held the phone to her ear, the person on the other end greeting her in Japanese; the tone of their voice already judgemental and exasperated before the conversation had even started.

“[i]Hi mom.[/i]”Akeno responded in Japanese of her own, it was the only language her mom spoke after all, but she managed to keep the exasperation she felt in kind out of her voice. Well, she tried to at least, if only to make these calls end a little sooner. They didn’t happen too often, once every two weeks as they had agreed upon, but Akeno definitely saw it as a chore to get over with rather than something to look forward to. She had a feeling her mother felt the same way.

“[i]Yes, I’m fine. Classes are going well… no, I haven’t changed major yet… I like what I’m studying.[/i]” Distance had done nothing to improve their relationship, which had been cold even before she had left home. “[i]It’ll be fine. I’ve got time to figure things out… yes I do… yes, I do. It’s only my second year… I’m changing the subject.[/i]”

She paced around the room as she spoke, able to hold a conversation like this while only half paying attention by now. Walking over to her desk she let her eyes scan over the unfinished paper, remaindering herself of where she had left off and how much more she had left to do. “[i]Yes, I’m still taking karate… yes, I have time for it… I told you, classes are going fine… if I drop karate it’ll be because I want to take something else instead. Judo or wrestling or something…  no, it’s… I’m changing the subject… how’s dad? Is he there?[/i]”

Why her mom didn’t just let her dad handle these calls she didn’t know; it had barely been five minutes and they had already had to change topics twice to avoid a fight and they were both getting heated. Her dad at least was someone she wouldn’t mind hearing from every now and then, even if he wasn’t the most talkative type. Maybe [i]because[/i] he wasn’t the talkative type. Of course, that would deprive her mom of the opportunity to pry and poke her way into her life, her opportunity to disapprove. “[i]Hmm… and how’s Daisuke.[/i]”

Asking her about her brother gave her another minute or two to pace around her room and get things ready for tonight. A couple days to recover were enough for her and she was feeling restless just staying in her dorm each night; her costume was repaired, the stitch job on her shirt a little neater than the one on her side, and she’d washed the blood out. It lay on her bed now, spread out with her mask resting on top of the shirt. She was ready.

“[i]Mom, I’ve got to go now. I’ve got plans tonight… just plans… no, not with anyone… no… no… n-I’m hanging up now.[/i]”