Chapter 55: Detective’s Penance.
『"Clever or Dumb kid. Time will tell." — The Book』
Medical teams arrived within seconds and pulled Sophia from Hiro’s arms, checking vitals, speaking in rapid medical terminology that meant nothing to him.
"Psychic feedback," one of them announced, checking her pupils with a penlight. "Whoever possessed the subject left a trap. Neural mines, basically. Anyone trying to read the residual memories triggers it."
The lead medic looked up at them briefly. "She’ll be okay, but she needs immediate treatment. We need to stabilize her synaptic pathways before permanent damage sets in."
They rushed her out on a gurney, leaving Hiro, Amara, and a very shaken Michael Chen staring after them.
"This is my fault," Hiro exhaled slowly, both hands on his face. "I asked her to do it. I—"
"She chose to help," Amara said firmly, grabbing his shoulder to force him to look at her. "This isn’t on you. And you’d be disregarding her choice, her agency, by thinking that way."
But Hiro wasn’t listening. He was already moving toward the medical bay. From small slow steps, to completely blurring away in a streak of red.
***
The Medic Bay was designed to handle Awakener injuries, which meant specialized equipment and doctors who understood that "normal" didn’t apply to their patients.
By the time Amara caught up with Hiro, the medical team had already stabilized Sophia. She lay in one of the recovery beds as various monitors tracked her vitals. But "stabilized" didn’t mean "conscious."
The doctors assured them she would wake up, that her brain was already healing itself from the inside out, repairing damaged neural pathways with the enhanced resilience Awakeners possessed.
"Twelve to twenty four hours," the lead doctor said, checking her chart on a holographic display. "Maybe more. Her mind took significant damage from the psychic backlash. It’s repairing itself, but these things can’t be rushed without risking permanent complications."
Hiro pulled a chair to her bedside and sat. Just sat, staring at her unconscious form as his hands clenched into fists.
The others checked in throughout the evening as word spread.
Raj arrived first, bringing terrible hospital cafeteria coffee in paper cups and awkward attempts at comfort that involved a lot of shoulder-patting and half-finished sentences.
"She’s tough," he said, staring at Sophia’s still form. "Tougher than any of us give her credit for. She’ll be fine. She has to be fine."
Ethan came next, standing by the door rather than entering fully, offering the kind of silent support that didn’t demand conversation. He stayed for twenty minutes, then left with a squeeze to Hiro’s shoulder that conveyed more than words could.
Amara stayed the longest, her hand resting on Hiro’s the whole time while he maintained his vigil. Eventually she had to leave for a debriefing with the Director, and Hiro was back to being alone with Sophia.
"I’m sorry," he whispered to her unconscious body. "I’m so sorry. I got obsessed with the mystery and I didn’t think about the cost and now you’re hurt because I asked you to—"
His hands were shaking. And without thinking, he tried to punch the wall in frustration but his fist phased straight through it.
Hiro watched as his fingers emerged from the wall without resistance or damage, as though the wall wasn’t even there.
"God damnit!" He pulled it back completely, confused and somehow even more frustrated that he couldn’t even punch things properly anymore.
In that moment, the second bar on his ankle began to flicker. On. Off. On. Off. But he didn’t notice. How could he? His attention was entirely on Sophia.
"Just wake up," he said quietly. "Please just wake up and I promise I’ll be less stupid about solving mysteries."
Morning came and the others returned, bringing breakfast and worried glances.
"Any change?" Raj asked, setting down a tray he’d brought for Hiro.
"Not yet." Hiro’s voice was rough from not sleeping. "Doctors say it could be a few more hours. Maybe longer. They don’t really know."
They all sat together in the Medic Bay, silently waiting.
Around noon, after six hours of sitting uselessly beside Sophia’s bed, Hiro had an idea. Stupid, maybe. But he couldn’t just sit there anymore doing nothing, while his mind screamed at him to do something, anything.
"I need to check something," he announced, standing abruptly as the chair scraped against the floor with a harsh sound. "I’ll be back."
"Hiro—" Amara started.
But before anyone could ask questions or try to stop him, he was gone in a blur of red lightning, displaced air ruffling papers on the nearby medical charts.
Raj looked at Amara. "Should we... stop him?"
"Could we?" Ethan asked pragmatically.
"Let him go," Amara said, though she looked worried. "He needs to feel like he’s accomplishing something. Otherwise he’ll eat himself alive with guilt."
***
The Library where the Book was kept was technically off-limits without the Director’s clearance.
Fortunately, Hiro had spent enough sleepless nights poking at the Institute’s security to discover several elegant flaws in its layering.
Regardless, it was still a difficult process. Getting into the Pentagon in comparison was like taking candy from a sleeping baby.
Hiro’s fingers moved across the keypad rapidly, finally entering the override sequence that unlocked the heavy doors.
He was aware of the cameras in the Library, and how they operated at a shutter speed of 1.1 femtoseconds. That meant even at his current fastest, he’d still be caught on camera.
Which left only one option.
As Grace Hopper put it, it was easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission.
The Book sat on its pedestal, surrounded by containment circles. The moment Hiro stepped into the chamber proper, it sensed his presence.
"Well, well, well," it said as Hiro came into view. "The Boots comes seeking knowledge. How unexpected. Or perhaps entirely expected. Either way—" Its pages ruffled with anticipation. "What song did you bring me?"
"I didn’t." Hiro’s face was dead serious. "This is important and I need an answer."
The Book’s pages went still. "My, my. Something’s changed."
"Sophia’s in a coma because someone left a psychic trap," Hiro said flatly. "I need to know if what we’re dealing with—the Malices, the rift in the Chaos Sea, whoever’s orchestrating all of this—is it an Awakener?"
"That’s a rather specific question," the Book observed.
If it had eyes, Hiro could have sworn they narrowed in that moment.
"It’s related to what you told us before," he continued. "About someone or something hunting us. Is that someone an Awakener? Yes or no?"
The Book went silent for a long moment. Then its pages opened, flipping through them with haste. When it finally spoke again, its tone had shifted to something less theatrical.
"You’re clever, Boots. Asking the right questions in the right way." Tphe Book sounded almost impressed.
"Very well. Since I’m bored..." It paused for a bit. "And your teammate has already paid dearly for this information, I’ll answer without demanding payment."
Hiro’s fist clenched tighter at the reminder, but he forced himself to focus. "Is the Malice summoner an Awakener?" He asked again.
"No," The Book answered simply.
Hiro’s mind raced. "But there is an Awakener involved somehow. The possession. The message. That has to be different from whoever’s summoning the Malices."
"Now you’re extrapolating beyond your question," the Book said. "But yes. You’re dealing with two separate threats operating with what appears to be independent agendas."
Hiro processed this, already reorganizing his conspiracy board mentally.
"The person who possessed your researcher and sent that message? That’s an Awakener. Or more accurately, multiple Awakeners."
"Who?" Hiro asked immediately.
"That would be a second question, wouldn’t it?" The Book snapped shut. "You’ve gotten your freebie. Do not come back here again without my music. I mean how hard is it? I’m not asking for much here."
Hiro stared at the closed tome for a moment, then nodded once. "Thank you."
***
He returned to find the others still in the Bay, but now there was movement.
Doctors crowded around Sophia’s bed, checking readings, adjusting monitors, and talking in excited tones that indicated something had changed.
"She’s waking up," one of them announced, stepping back to give her space.
Sophia’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, pupils dilating and adjusting to light. Then gradually her vision sharpened as she looked around the room, taking in the concerned faces staring at her.
Raj hovered anxiously, Amara was by her bedside holding her hand, Ethan stood by the door with obvious relief written across his features, and Hiro was frozen halfway through the doorway like he was afraid to come closer.
"Did someone get the number of that psychic train?" Sophia muttered, her voice hoarse. "Because I’d like to file a complaint."
The tension was broken immediately as Raj laughed with relief. Amara on the other hand squeezed her hand tighter, and Ethan’s shoulders finally relaxed from where they’d been tensed.
As for Hiro, he felt like he could breathe again for the first time in twelve hours. "I’m sorry," he said immediately, coming closer. "This is my fault. I asked you to—"
"Shut up," Sophia interrupted, her voice regaining its strength. "I decided to help. That’s on me."
She tried to sit up, and everything felt like it was spinning. "Whoa..." she winced, and hands immediately supported her. Amara on one side, Hiro on the other.
"Easy," the doctor warned. "Your neural pathways are healed but your body’s been through trauma. Dizziness, nausea, and headaches are normal for the next 24-48 hours."
"Great..." Sophia muttered, pressing fingers to her temples. "Because this feels like someone’s using my brain as a drum."
"Soph... I—" Hiro struggled to find the words.
She reached out and squeezed his wrist. "Next time," she said quietly, "just let me know if we’re diving headfirst into psychic landmines."
"Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah, definitely."
"But I did get something," Sophia continued, her gaze no longer wandering and her smile gone. "Right before the trap kicked in and turned my brain into scrambled eggs."
Everyone leaned forward.
"A name," Sophia said. "In Michael’s mind, buried under the psychic residue. The person that controlled him was thinking about something. A group. An organization."
She met their eyes. "The Apostles."
The word hung in the air as everyone tried to process what they just heard.
"The Apostles." The Book Director’s voice came from the doorway. They all turned to see him standing there, his expression grave. "That confirms our worst suspicions."
"You know who they are?" Amara asked, standing slowly.
"Yes." Director Hale moved into the room fully. "And if they’re taking interest in the Five, we’re going to need more support for Tokyo than originally planned."
The Director’s expression shifted when he saw Hiro. "We’ll discuss your unauthorized access later," he said. "This is more important."
Hiro nodded, accepting the inevitable consequences.
Then the Director pulled out his device and began typing rapidly. "I’ll contact the other Institute branches quickly. Get reinforcements deployed immediately."
He looked at each of them in turn. "Three days until deployment. And now we know we’re walking into something far more complicated than just a Malice infestation."
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