#I wish he would just bite the bullet and cancel the series instead of being dodgy over it

[the-duke-of-dick]

[lupizora]

Phantom Scars

Of all the fics I wanted to post as my first in this fandom, this little character study was an unexpected last-minute addition. Tbh it's more of a headcanon I developed while watching the series because I still can't get over how often Touma loses his arm and it just grows back, no problem! Also, after finishing it the other day, NT Volume 22R owns my entire heart. So, the aftermath we didn't get to see managed to sneak in there at the end haha.

Genre: Angst

Pairing: None

Rating: T 

Word Count: 1116

Summary: People tend to forget that because you can't see the physical evidence of a wound, it doesn't mean there isn't any emotional scarring left behind.

Misfortune.

Bad luck.

Curse.

Kamijou Touma had called many things the ability receding in his right arm during the half-year worth of memories he had. Sometimes he wondered if the person he had been before losing his memories had used different words or had different emotions. His heart refused those thoughts when all sorts of calamities occurred to him every other day.

Not everything related to Imagine Breaker was unlucky. It had also assisted him in saving a lot of people from their personal tragedies, even the entire world once or twice too. He couldn’t renounce or deny it for existing. It remained a part of him, literally and figuratively, whether he wanted it or not.

But there was one thing Touma wished to be different—the fact his right fist didn’t leave any proof behind. Neither of his feats in the battlefield’s aftermath, neither any marks on his body. He had been hurt in his many misadventures or assignments; broken bones, bleeding guts, even losing his entire arm a bunch of times. Thanks to Academy City’s superior doctors, there were no consequences or evidence left behind to prove it all. The only saving grace he had been allowed in this life.

And yet, late at night, when the freeloaders in his dorm were sound asleep, he’d look in the mirror and wonder: Was any of it real?

In less than half a year, Touma had faced against desperate Magicians and power-hungry Espers alike. He had been present when worldwide organizations clashed to the point of wars. He had seen the world disappear in a flash of light and return in a clap of thunder. But he carried no scars to speak off these events. As if they were nothing more than elaborative daydreams, figments of a teenager’s overactive imagination. Recognition wasn’t the goal or the end destination. It would probably bring even more trouble than his ten minutes of glory would accomplish. 

He just wanted his sanity to latch onto something tangible. Having nothing to prove his claims, how was he certain it ever happened?

Memories could be finicky things. Touma knew that more than anyone, being a certified amnesiac and all. So, unless he stuck his head into an MRI scanner, none would ever notice the damaged neurons crisscrossing like fried computer circuits over the soft tissue that mapped his brain. Touma had made sure the people closest to him wouldn’t. After all, he wasn’t some kind of kintsugi pottery for others to put on display. Just an ordinary high school boy—one everyone could find anywhere in Japan—with an unusual right hand.

Touma opened his eyes to several people standing in a circle around him. Friends, acquaintances, former adversaries turned allies; all were sharing similarly concerned expressions. It didn’t stop them from resting their hands in their preferred weapons. As if they were still wary of an attack. No one could blame them; he certainly didn’t. Every person in this room had survived a war, only to get roped into another—so soon and so suddenly—that most were still unaware why it transpired in the first place. They all looked worse for wear, even those that had been on the offensive.

The destruction he and the other had caused in the ballroom flashed before Touma’s eyes. Taking into account only the fights he’d been part of in this skirmish, the damage to the surrounding area was leagues away from his meager budget.

I really hope they don’t make me pay for all this. But then again, my misfortune is— He stopped. His right hand returning to him meant it would restart canceling his good fortune. Instead of dread settling on him like a wet blanket, Touma was joyful. Yeah, my luck is so bad, it might as well happen.

Everyone continued to stare; the tension so thick, someone could cut it with a butter knife.

“What’s with this gloomy atmosphere?” Touma asked with an awkward smile. “If my heart wasn’t beating so loudly, I’d think this is my funeral.”

No one laughed at this poor attempt of a joke. But several shoulders relaxed, and some breathed out a sigh of relief.

“So, it’s safe to assume you’re back to normal?”

“Yup.” Touma clenched his fist. “Everything is here, human skin and all.”

“Wait! These wounds!” Index forced his fingers open again. Cracks painted thunder shapes from the base of his fingernails to his wrist. They didn’t hurt, so he hadn’t paid them much attention. But the silver-haired girl, gripping at his arm like a lifeline, had tears in her emerald eyes. “We can’t heal them now. They are going to scar!”

Maybe the blood loss was responsible, but Touma’s heart felt lighter. If only for a moment, another wish he may have willed into existence had come true. Unlike the one he had just laid to rest; this wasn’t a weight that would bother anyone.

Still, something compelled him to reassure the sobbing girl in front of him. “Don’t be silly, Index. It’s gonna be alright,” Touma said. “This is nothing a couple of bandages can’t fix. And it just so happens I know someone—”

Another girl, the one whose appearance he could never recall, entered his thoughts like a bullet train. Touma turned his head. Those near the ballroom’s busted entrance noticed his expression and stepped aside to clear the view. No one had collapsed in a pool of their own blood there.

“She is safe. The Royal Nurses accompanied her to the hospital.”

“That’s—” His knees buckled— “great.”

Letting go of Index’s hand, Touma collapsed to the floor under their collective cries. Everyone took a step forward, but there was no need to worry. Somehow, he had managed to land in the least damaged area with no glass or wood shards around. It seemed like Lady Luck was smiling his way for a little longer.

Touma waved wobbly to reassure them. “It’s fine,” he said. “I just need to lie down for a moment.”

“But! You should see the doctor too,” Index whimpered. “We need to get you to a normal bed.”

“I don’t want to.” Stretching against the carpet, Touma settled into a comfier position that didn’t pull at his wounds. “That’s too much trouble for Mr. Kamijou right now.”

“Really…” Index’s puffy fairytale dress rustled as she kneeled next to him. “You’re are so immature sometimes.”

“Pot,” he mumbled. “Kettle.”

Index didn’t try to bite off his head. Maybe she didn’t pick on the taunt. Maybe it was pity or even mercy. Whatever it was, Touma didn’t care as he drifted into a well-deserved rest. Such a peaceful moment had been a long time coming, after all.