A/N: Hey everyone, it's Hemza here with a special update! As I'm sure you all know from some of our previous author's notes, we've been posting bonus chapters to celebrate view landmarks on FanFiction (a tradition we hope to keep up, because you are all amazing and we love you), but this update is to celebrate us reaching 1,000 views on Archive of Our Own! So hope you all enjoy this chapter, we'll have the next one up on Saturday! Onto the next landmark! :)
Emiko's blood froze solid. Her hands trembled and her teeth chattered just as they had when Shoto had trapped her in that giant ice prison only a few months ago. Her body was numb and tingling, any sensation of warmth provided by her blood flowing through her veins at the sound of the voice in the darkness calling her name.
No, no, no, no, no, she frantically repeated in her head, eyes as wide as saucers. This can't be fucking happening.
"Oh come now, you're saying you don't recognize me?" the voice cooed, syrupy sweet.
A click broke the stifling void that filled the room in the absence of her words. A single, bare bulb swung from the ceiling, casting a pool of light swirling around the room.
Clad in a long black and red coat, modeled after the militia of old, stood her mother. The coat sat snugly around her narrow waist, flared out to mid thigh, just barely brushing the tops of the insanely tall boots covering her legs. The golden lapels glinted in the dimly lit room, drawing her attention to the endlessly long, painfully black cape that swirled around her shoulders. If she squinted just right, she could see the edge was rimmed with a line of fur, something that was so absurdly luxe, so out of character from the woman that Emiko remembered, she had a hard time wrapping her mind around it.
"Not even a 'hello' for your mother?" the words came out in a tone that feigned hurt, but seemed to be reveling in her effect on Emiko. The last word was so positively saccharine, Emiko could practically feel the cavities she could get from it.
A porcelain-like hand crept into her view and smoothly cupped her chin, icy coldness creeping across the skin of her face. She couldn't help but compare it to the cold she would feel from Shoto. Apart from the ice prison, when she experienced Shoto's cold, it was the refreshing crispness of a winter morning, one to play in the snow, wrap her hands around a warm cup of hot chocolate. His cold was almost warm, in a sense. This?
This touch was devoid of warmth in a truly unsettling way, not glacial in a way that would freeze her, but cold in a way that offered no comfort, no joy. It had ghosted around her chin before firmly gripping it and wrenching it upwards and Emiko's fear washed over her in nauseating waves, not willing to believe the nightmare she now found herself in.
"There, that's better," Mara said. "I want to look at my daughter's face and see how she's grown."
The firm grip on her chin was gone and her mother's hand ghosted up the side of her face, twirling one of Emiko's rebellious locks around her finger. The other hand pulled the cap off of her head, letting the short waves pinned back free. Where once her hair had swirled around her in a blinding sunset blanket, Mara's hair now sat just below her chin. The waves were still there, roughly tousled in such a way that they contrasted against her current outfit.
Emiko found herself willing herself to break the cerulean gaze that held hers captive. The same eyes that had stared back at her in the mirror every day of her life were gazing at her like she was her favorite plaything.
"I've been keeping tabs on you, you know," she said with a chuckle, still sporting an amused expression as she finally withdrew her hand and broke her gaze, drawing her hands behind her and prowling around where Emiko was bound. "It fascinated me to find out what kind of person you would grow up to become after all the memories we made…"
She stopped pacing when she was in Emiko's field of vision, letting out what was supposed to sound like a playful chuckle, but it was nothing short of disturbing.
"Whoops, slip of the tongue, I meant to say the memories that I made," she corrected herself, savouring every syllable like a favourite dessert.
"You…made…?" Emiko muttered in horror, confusion running rampant in her mind.
"There she is," Mara whispered in triumph, the blue in her eyes practically glowing with glee as she whirled around and locked her gaze with Emiko's once more.
"What… do you mean… you made?" Emiko gasped out, struggling against the restraints still holding her in place.
"Exactly what it sounds like, sweetie," Mara giggled, twirling another lock of her hair around her long fingers.
Under normal circumstances, Emiko would have growled at her for dancing around the point, refusing to answer her purely for the sake of frustrating her. But she couldn't. Not in the presence of her. The woman who'd made her feel so small. So incomepetent. So worthless.
An exasperated sigh escaped Mara's lips, "I really thought you had enough brains to piece it together, Miko, so I guess I have to spell it out for you like the child you are."
"Fuck you, Mara." Emiko spat, glaring up at her mother, hoping her gaze wouldn't show just how terrified she was.
"My Quirk is called Ruse. Like my villain name. It allows me to implant memories of my own creation into the minds of those I touch. It's come in real handy serving my master. Thanks to my work, you could say my master has friends to spare," she let out another chuckle, waving her hand around the room lightly. "But we're not here to talk about my master, Miko! This is a family reunion! We're here to talk about you!
"I'm curious now that you know what you know about my quirk… Do you think I ever used it on you? What was real, what wasn't, what really happened in your childhood?"
Her hand reached out and Emiko flinched as her mother traced the scar over her eye.
"Well, this one and all the others were real. That's what I get for being sloppy, ruins my fun" she pouted, before pulling over a box to sit on. She rested her elbows on her knees and once more had a wide smile plastered on her face.
"You can't get it out of your head now, can you?" she exclaimed in delight, clapping her hands together gleefully. "This is one of my favourite things, once I've led someone out into the middle of the web and watch as they tear all the threads out until they send themselves tumbling."
The panic set in as Emiko rifled through her childhood memories, suddenly questioning everything she thought fundamentally shaped who she was as a human being. The more she focused, the more the edges of her memories seemed to fuzz, fading into darkness.
"You know the pain is real, Miko, but what else was?" Mara crooned, reaching over and brushing Emiko's arm, and this time, it wasn't the touch of cold marble, but a whisper of warmth that raced up her arm.
Suddenly, Emiko found herself in her old apartment. The early morning light shone through the windows, painting the apartment in a golden glow. She saw a tiny form contorted into an awkward sleeping position on an armchair that had been positioned to face the front door of the apartment. The tiny form had a rebellious mop of red hair tangled about her, like a shock of wild flowers.
Emiko remembered sneaking out of her room every night to stay up and wait for her dad to come home from overnight patrols. She never managed to stay awake more than 5 minutes, but the door opening would always jolt her awake and she'd instantly be full of energy running up to him in delight and hugging him with all her might.
Right on cue, the front door opened, and the hero known as Suggestor walked in the front door, letting out an exhausted sigh as he stepped in.
"DADDYYYYY!" came the delighted screech as young Emiko launched herself out of the armchair towards her laughing dad.
"Miko!" he shouted back, wrapping his strong arms around her tiny frame and twirling her around the darkened apartment. His gilded cape swirled around them like a safety blanket and her chest swelled with love.
The scene froze, then cracks began appearing until the image shattered, showing Emiko at the same age sitting ramrod straight and eyes unfocused in the same chair as Mara laid a hand on her shoulder.
Emiko glanced over and saw "her" version of Mara mimicking the pose.
"What, are you trying to tell me dad didn't come home one of those nights?" Emiko managed to scoff, the memory galvanizing her and giving her some strength.
"Oh Miko," Mara said, tracing patterns up and down Emiko's arm and Emiko found herself unable to pull away. "He didn't come home any of those nights."
A lead weight fell into Emiko's stomach.
"What do you mean?"
"Miko, your dad died before you were even born."
