Recovery Girl's chair squeaks when she turns around. Her smile, sympathetic, deepens the wrinkles lining her face. Her office has been a reassuring, harmonious zone ever since his quirk manifestation. Today, it just serves as a reminder to his mistakes.
“I have an extremely capable team and quirk,” she says. “Hypno kept him under during the procedure. Komala has provided us with the necessary ingredient for their pain medication and the others comforted their classmates.”
Drampa cocks his enormous head, concerned when Hizashi continues watching the ground. Leaning too much into his trainer will cause her to topple over, forcing him to settle for wrapping his tail around her ankle and giving careful tugs.
“You're correct, Drampa.” Recovery Girl rewards the dragon with a kiss to its head. “Nezu’s poor experiences with humans have encouraged him to take on rescuing injured or abused Pokémon no matter the circumstances. Our newest arrival could benefit from someone with a voice quirk.”
“I accidentally hurt my best friend. No one can benefit from my quirk,” he mumbles. “I'll hear its story but I doubt that my quirk could help.”
Recovery Girl nods towards the bed where Shouta lies motionless. Hypno hasn't budged even though he must be uncomfortable by now. Whatever dreams he might be having are hopefully enough to keep the creature pleased.
“Hypno has always been dutiful in his work,” she promises. “Shouta remains in capable hands while we run our errands. I'll even have Drampa remain here to keep guard should it make you feel more comfortable.”
It's an agreeable compromise, which does not completely relieve the guilt or concern over what happened or what might happen. Recovery Girl guides him through what are normally the teacher only areas. Pokémon and their respective staff members greet her with brief waves or smiles but raise no questions on the student accompanying her.
Hizashi sniffs, shivering as the damp air pinches his skin through his uniform. “I guess this Pokémon is a water type, huh? Where does Nezu keep other rescues?”
“Nezu does his best to separate the rescues by attitude and type. Some cannot get along with one another either due to their nature or prior experiences which make housing them alone the best option. Unfortunately, this one could benefit from some company but things are complicated. It is important we approach them slowly -- it is still not accustomed to people exhibiting kindness.”
Hizashi puts a hand over his mouth as though it would enough to stifle his voice. A panicked high-pitched whine reverberates off the wet tiles as the doors creak open. Recovery Girl motions him over to a metal bench near the water, tapping her lips as she does so.
“I apologize for changing our routine, Lapras, but Dragma suggested this,” she says, hoisting herself onto the bench. “I've brought a student whose quirk you might enjoy.”
Lapras doesn't move. Its eyes remain downcast. A cough might just convince it to dive beneath the water with a refusal to resurface.
“You don't have to come over here. I ask you to allow Hizashi to share his story though.”
Gaping does nothing to deter her from motioning that he go ahead.
“I haven't picked any type based on my quirk or other factors. Everyone assumes I want a Whismur but their ears are so sensitive.” He takes a deep breath. “I think insects are repulsive which means insects aren't an option. I try admiring them from a distance because some are — decent. Today, someone returned their Butterfree as we passed in the hallway for fear I might hurt it.”
Recovery Girl reaches over and gives his wrist an encouraging squeeze. Longheld frustrations bubble to the surface. Slumping forward, he recounts the manifestation, shocking coming from two deaf parents, the friendship, difficulties with control, hurting civilians just because he was excited over something, and it's not fair. Somewhere between his shoulders heaving and his fists pressing into his eyes, Lapras begins to cross the water.
“People have driven Lapras to near extinction with overhunting.” Recovery Girl squeezes his wrist again. “Lapras are gentle, intelligent creatures that enjoy ferrying people across the water. Unfortunately, some people have used that very knowledge to have Lapras take them to nesting areas, poaching their eggs and shells. We once treasured them for their enchanting music, but now? Come evenings, she sings only in mourning, searching for anyone that might remain.”
Now, he's the one whose cries off echo off the walls in frustration for his situation and anger for the Pokemon, alone. Lapras rises from the water, balancing itself on the edge of the pool as she extends her neck. Her voice, velvety and warm hush his cries. Even with her neck completely extended, she can't reach their bench and her voice turns plaintive. Hizashi takes a deep shaking breath and opens his fingers. Her eyes brighten, voice rising curiously.
“I believe she's inviting you closer -- go on, Hizashi. Don't make her keep waiting.” Recovery Girl climbs down from the bench. “I ought to return to the infirmary and check on Shouta. Don't worry; I’ll make sure to inform the other staff members that you have permission to be back here.”
Her only response is a distracted nod as he joins the Lapras on the edge of the pool. Recovery Girl hovers outside the door, sighing relieved as his wobbly voice joins Lapras.