A/N: Hi all! Apologies for the long wait. This chapter just wasn't coming together the way I'd hoped so I finally just decided to split it into two chapters so you'd at least have something to read. As result this chapter is short but I hope you enjoy what's here regardless. Also, I'll be editing the summary soon so be on the lookout for that.
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From the moment her daughter was born, Nemuri knew she was special. It's a parent's job to think the world of their children and Kiyo made it easy.

As a baby she was always inquisitive, always reaching for things, always looking at everything that crossed her path, displaying a remarkable amount of concentration for someone so young.

When she would babble at you she'd look you in the eye as though she were trying to hold a real conversation. And even when she had yet to learn actual words she still understood a fair bit of what was being said.

Nemuri would ask her daughter to point to simple things like an apple or a pencil and she would do exactly that. A few times she'd even tried tripping Kiyo up by purposely misnaming things. She would call one of her toys by the wrong name only for Kiyo to shake her head at her and show her the correct item.

The mountain of parenting books she'd read told her that this meant Kiyo was advanced for her age. Kayama Nemuri felt quite proud that her kid was shaping up to be a genius. Things like booksmarts didn't matter too much to her in the grand scheme of things, she would've been just as proud of her daughter if she was like every other kid her age, but the fact Kiyo was progressing so well made the young mother feel like she was doing something right.

Though she tried to hide it, there had been many times in her daughter's life where Nemuri felt like she didn't have the slightest clue what she was doing. And in those low moments she'd wonder if she'd been selfish to keep Kiyo with her and if the best thing would've been to give her to someone older, with more time and money on their hands. After all, as a U.A student Nemuri had a full schedule most days, even on the weekends. Not to mention the part-time jobs she'd taken on recently.

There had been a few times where the most she saw of her baby was at night when she was already asleep. It made the young mother feel incredibly guilty.

(What kind of mother leaves their baby for someone else to raise?

Babies shouldn't have to compete for their parent's attention like that, they were supposed to be priority number one. Was it fair for Kiyo to have to play second fiddle to her mother's other responsibilities?

Wouldn't the right thing to do be to quit U.A all together for Kiyo sake?

Wasn't it selfish of her not to make that choice? If she wanted to be a hero, wasn't it the responsible thing to give Kiyo up to someone who could give her all the attention she deserved?)

She wrestled with these questions everyday.

Even before Kiyo was born Nemuri had been selfish. When she found out she was pregnant she'd been faced with a choice. The responsible choice wouldn't have been to keep her baby. She'd just been accepted into the hero course and there was a very good chance she might end up homeless so she wasn't exactly stable.

But she'd chosen to have Kiyo, because she was selfish.

Nemuri's quirk, Somnambulist, was unique. While the gas itself was similar to several mass-produced sleeping agents like chloroform with its sweet smell, or nitrous oxide and its rapid effect on the body, it was so far impossible to replicate in a laboratory setting.

As far as anyone could tell her quirk worked because her body naturally produced a laundry list of chemicals including melatonin, hydrogen, nitrogen and chlorine—among other things— in large amounts that somehow or another synthesized together to make her sweet smelling, violet colored mist. And while her body could synthesize all these compounds together to make her trademark gas at no cost to herself, the combination all but made her body a toxic environment.

Nemuri hadn't known how to react when the quirk specialist explained that it would be impossible for her to have a child all those years ago. It's quite a jarring thing to be told you're incompatible with life…

That was why she'd kept Kiyo. Because Nemuri knew that this would be her one and only chance. There could be no waiting to have kids until she was older. She would never beat the odds in this way again—she'd have more luck trying to win the lottery ten times over.

So yes, she was selfish. Extremely, unbelievably selfish.

If anyone were to ask Nemuri if she'd ever regretted having a kid so young she would say no. And that was true, she didn't regret it. But that didn't mean she didn't have her doubts.

To be clear, doubt was not the same as regret. She loved her daughter from the moment she'd laid eyes on her, she could never regret such a wonderful feeling. But no matter how much she loved her child it didn't guarantee that Nemuri would be a good mother, it didn't mean she knew how to raise Kiyo properly, it didn't mean she knew the right thing to do or what not to do.

After all, she was barely more than a child herself, with no proper role model in her life to teach her what it really meant to be a parent.

It was in those moments that doubt would start to creep its ugly head.

Recently her life had been filled by nothing but ugly thoughts and crippling doubts.

Now that she was getting closer and closer to going out into the real world to become a hero it was impossible not to consider the uglier side of her chosen career. When Oboro died all those months ago it put into perspective just how much she had on the line. All hero students know the very real possibility of getting killed on the job, it was a simple yet devastating fact of life. But knowing this fact and seeing a dear friend of yours lose their life with your own eyes were two completely different things.

(I could die tomorrow and leave you all alone. How's that fair?)

It felt like the whole world was closing in on her, crushing her with its immeasurable weight, throwing obstacle after obstacle at her and never letting up— drowning her.

Most people assumed that Oboro's death was the cause of her lack of vitality and vigor these days. Grief certainly didn't help things, but it was more than that. It was everything.

Her life. Feeling like she can never get anything right, feeling like no matter what she did she was letting someone down. Worrying about failure in every sense of the word

Everything...everything was just too much.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, her daughter had almost died while she was busy goofing around.

Nemuri would never forgive herself. If she'd been a better parent—a better person—she would've insisted she stay with the group to look after Kiyo. If she'd been there like she should've been then it would've never happened. Instead, she was busy having a good time while her baby nearly drowned.

(Selfish...so goddam selfish)

—

Traumatic Quirk Activation. That was the term they used.

When an individual's quirk is triggered early in response to a traumatic event. An automatic response in which the body pulls out all the stops in an attempt to save itself.

Nemuri had never wanted her daughter and the word "trauma" in the same sentence but there it was.

By the grace of whatever cosmic energy was in charge Kiyo had been able to save her own life. Nemuri could hardly bear to watch the security footage of what had happened after the fact. Seeing her child fall then having to witness her struggle so helplessly was like a knife through her heart.

Your child discovering their quirk was meant to be a joyous occasion, not one marred by blood, bruises and tears.

Kiyo hadn't appeared to be able to activate her quirk since then. The quirk specialists Nemuri had spoken to had said this was normal for children who'd had a traumatic activation. While she may have been able to tap into some facet of her ability while under duress, Kiyo's body had yet to mature to the point where she could access the power freely and safely. Her daughter likely wouldn't be able to do so again until she was closer to the age of four like everyone else.

That was why Kiyo had been so hurt after she'd used her quirk. Her tiny body wasn't made to handle the power just yet. After the incident at the pond, Kiyo's body was essentially one giant bruise, turned black and blue by the force of whatever she'd done to save herself. Thankfully nothing had broken, but a baby covered in bandages was only marginally better than one in a cast.

(I'm sorry, Mama's so sorry…)

It hurt to watch her child in pain. It hurt to see how scared she was around water now. Everything, everything hurt…!

.

.

.

With a practiced ease Aizawa Shouta dialed a number on his phone without looking as he walked down the hall.

The phone rang several times before an irritated voice answered. "What?"

"You plan on showing up to school today?"

"If I'm not there already then it probably means I'm not coming don't ya think?" Came her sarcastic reply.

Aizawa sighed. "You know if you keep missing class like this it'll be harder to catch up don't you."

"Wow, thanks for pointing out the obvious there, Eraserhead!"

"Nemuri—"

"Look I gotta go okay? I've got work in a few minutes."

Aizawa quirked an eyebrow incredulously. "Work? Right now? Where at?"

"It's just a side job I picked up okay!" His friend replied impatiently. "I gotta go. Talk later okay."

She hung up without waiting for his reply.

Aizawa was disappointed by the conversation but he had expected as much.

Stuffing his phone in his pocket he continued walking, deftly avoiding other students as they made their way to class. The bell rang but the boy wasn't concerned, he had bigger things to worry about than being late.

As the hall emptied he had but one thing on his mind.

Reaching the principal's office Aizawa knocked politely before making his way in. He didn't take Nezu's offer to sit down.

"It's about my friend sir, she needs help."