Her skin was melting.

Drip, drip, dripping from her pores, skin following the current of fluids in their desperate escape. The thrum of a frantic heart pumped everything out, organs drying to dust, bones shriveling as brittle as candy cigarettes. One breath more and there'd be nothing left but a cool, girl-shaped watermark on the sheets.
Her body swelled with that dreaded inhale, her whole wavered, and-

I woke with a thrash, choking on the silvery saliva that had been steadily flowing from the corner of my mouth all night, no doubt. My eyes felt crusty with sleep and I groaned, itching away the flakes in my gross, oddly satisfying morning ritual.

Another day, another nightmare.

Only, this dream hadn't been haunted by the normal stretched-skin face I'd grown to know and fear so well- instead eyes, deep in color and depth and completely unknown to me, watched from the surface of my drowning ocean, skated near the shadowy island I knew I'd never reach.
Just another meaningless dream.

But something brushed against my ribs at the memory of those eyes, like ghostly fingers reaching through a veil. A headache arced through my temple. I fell back against the pillows, fatigued all over again.

"Chi-chan, honey?" A knock on the door produced Mom's smiling face before amusement turned her smug. "Sleeping in again, I see. I knew you needed a rest."

A rest from what, exactly? Working at a video store wasn't exactly rocket science. I flopped onto my belly, hid my head under a pillow. Mom continued to invite herself in.

"Chiyo, did you drink this entire thermos?"
"Thirsty," I mumbled back. Whose eyes were they? I closed my own, tried to submerse into a coma.
"Honey, it's not good for you to take in so much liquid. It'll bloat you up like a big, fat balloon. Then how will you ever win Seiichi back?"

I'd forgotten how tiresome living with my mother could be. Fingers teased my side. I released an unfeminine grunt in return.

"Do you work today?"
"Yeah. Seicchi's giving me afternoon shifts, since they're less busy."

Which I needed, considering how I'd spent all of Monday knocking shit off counters and blabbering apologies until I was blue in the face, ready to step onto an uncovered manhole and live with the sewer rats just to spare everyone from the trouble I caused. "I'm going to ask if I can work tomorrow night, though. Friday's always have the best commission sales."

"Are you sure you're up for this? I don't mind covering your expenses. You know that, right?"

Her kindness was another guilty nail into my coffin.

"I'm okay, Mom." I said quietly. The honeyed hair framing her face caught the light when she looked down at me, smile a warm curve of sympathy. A shiver ran up my arms, reliving a blight of deja vu. I looked away quickly.

"I'll make you a late breakfast, hm? Try to sleep a little longer."

In the safety of my vacated room I sat up, counted to twenty.
She'd closed the door; I locked it.

The tremors in my limbs were so bad even submersion couldn't fully control them.
What's wrong with me? Could a person relapse, after so much time had passed?

I sucked in a few slow breaths and fell into an easy yoga pose, focusing on every vessel, every drop of blood delivering life to my body. Even with the constant jerks and twitches, my muscles felt...warm. Strong, almost. An elastic taffy that had been kneaded into a new shape to allow easier movement. I had absentmindedly started doing sit-ups just the other morning, feeling at ease with the strain, before Mom flew in and asked what the hell I was doing. I'd stopped, embarrassed and unable to answer.

Since when do I exercise willingly?

There were more strange instances as of late; the scar on my arm, which hadn't been there the week before and Mom had vaguely explained away, asking when I'd become so vain. Headaches that nearly brought tears to my eyes. I was beginning to fear I had that personality disorder where I lived a normal, happy life during the day and walked the streets at night, like a devil-may-care fatale with a fistful of brass. It was only a matter of time before Dark Chiyo was leaving voicemails on my phone with death threats.

"Ah, the polka-dotted dress! I've always loved this one," Mom beamed as I stumbled into the kitchen. The smell of her cooking delighted my nose but churned my stomach, not particularly hungry at this strange in-between hour. I sat down anyway; not eating would result in a mind-numbing lecture.

"It's no wonder they prefer my classes over yours-"

"Chiyo!"
I scrambled away from the table as juice soaked the front of my dress. My arm had given a monumental twitch and sent my glass flying before I could register what was happening. I cussed under my breath, caught between anger and embarrassment.
What the hell is wrong with me?

"Chiyo, it's okay- no biggie. We're used to it, right?" Mom tried to joke, mopping up the spill with a hand towel she apparently had at the ready. When she moved to blot the stained material my legs pulled back on reflex, avoiding her smothering.

"It's fine- it's clear, it won't show up." I tried to explain my reaction, wipe the hurt off her face like a dry erase board. "I'm going to go now though, okay? I'll meet you at the bus stop after."

"Five o'clock?"
"Five o'clock."

She crushed my body against hers. The bittersweet scent of her perfume always reminded me of laughter and our couch cushion-forts, snuggled in with poppy seed bagels and warmed sun tea to watch a marathon of movies we'd already seen a dozen times over.
I wrapped my arms back around her, simmered in the nutty smell for a moment.

"I love you."
"I love you, too."

The sky was a particular shade of unhappy today; either the video store would be cram-packed or completely dead because of it. I didn't know which was worse.

Soft droplets had just begun their descent as the door chimed my entrance, drawing the baleful eyes of Nasu. Seiichi looked over as well, though from the opposite side of the store, too fearful to approach the black cloud now drifting towards my legs.

"Good morning! You're a little early, Chiyo."
"Yeah, sorry," I scooped up the grumpy feline, scratching his chin until he at least gave a halfhearted meow. He'd been moping around for days now, as if all of Japan had stopped selling tuna fish. "Again, I can't thank you enough for letting Nasu stay here. Mom's apartment isn't the largest, and Nasu- well, he's-"

"Yeah," Seiichi laughed and held up his right hand. To my distinct horror, a long, inflamed scratch ran from his thumb to his pinky.
"Oh, no, Seiichi, I'm- do you need something? I can go pick up an antibiotic, or-"
"It's fine! No worries. Just make sure he doesn't scratch any customers who come in, okay?"
He laughed again upon my serious salute.

When I'd arrived Monday morning, Seiichi paled as if a zombie had walked into his store. He'd always been a little easily jittered- maybe that's why we got along so well- but the jumpy, confused demeanor when I'd prompted him to add me to this week's schedule was the worst I'd seen him since the first time I'd taken my clothes off in front of him.

Intimate relations were only to be had in the darkest of rooms, I'd learned from that experience.

We'd broken up nearly a year ago now. A painful inkling re-evaluated Mom's comment about Seicchi, and I made sure to keep a healthy, friendly distance from him, just in case she'd made some rekindling comment to him, too.
Seicchi was nice, but I'd already gone down that path, viewed the sights, and returned home from the mildly-pleasant trip.

"Are you jealous?"

An entire display rumbled to the ground with my stagger. I sighed.

"Do you want them reorganized alphabetically, or by popularity?"


A dead day, I decided, was worse than a busy one.

The hours moved like Mom did grocery shopping. The displays were organized, the building swept, and I hadn't destroyed a single item with another hallucination-induced muscle spasm yet.
Nasu curled around my feet while I counted out the hours, minutes, and seconds behind the front counter, letting my thoughts roam.

How had I let another year go by without finding a teaching gig?
Mom said she'd help with my student loans, but there was more to my dilemma than that- I'd spent years taking education courses, writing paper after paper, powering through my awkwardness to overcome student teaching. And for what? To work at a video store for the rest of my life, living in my old bedroom?
Nasu released a questioning meow as I buried my head in my arms, ignoring the entrance's door chime. "Hello, welcome."

What if I remained the video store clerk forever? I would grow old and die, doling out porn to skeevy old men and spending the decades apologizing to angry moms when little Suzu's dvd didn't work, even though little Suzu had smeared her disgusting toddler hands all over the back of the disc and was clearly to blame, but no, please pick out another film at no additional cost.

A headache, new and less severe than the ones I'd been experiencing as of late, bubbled into my brain, this time born by my own creation.

"Chiyo?"
I didn't lift my head, spoke through my arms. What would this customer do, get me fired? Ha.

"We have two Chiyo Aoki films, and a handful of Chiyo Takao's, though if you're looking for action, I have several other suggestions that aren't as asinine." Booby, I wanted to say. Suggestions that don't involve giant-titted women always acting like stupid damsels and making horrible decisions.

"Chiyo."

Something in his voice raised my head, more so than the repeated question.

He was wearing an outfit totally comprised of black, loose but somehow frame-hugging, articulating the slender body beneath. The ugliest scarf I'd ever seen was laced around his shoulders and hid the ends of long, dark, unkempt hair that looked in desperate need of a good scrub. In fact, all of him was desirous of a shower- he looked like he hadn't slept in days, if the scruff of his face and the darkened eye sockets were any indication.

Above all that, a charcoal set of eyes was taking in my face, drinking me in like he was seconds from death in the Sahara.
The ghost fingers played a medley on my xylophone ribs.

Seiichi had brought in a stool by Tuesday, cheerful in relaying to take as many rests as needed during my shifts. I'd have to remember to thank him as my legs gave a frantic spasm, saved from a dangerous collapse only by my already-sitting position on Seiichi's thoughtful seat.
I looked away from the man's burning gaze, feeling heat rise up my neck.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm not sure I understand. Is there...a certain film you're looking for?" Please, please don't ask for adult films starring Chiyo Nooka. "We have video games, too, though many require a deposit-"

"Chiyo Tsutomi," He clarified. Submersion pushed my beating heart down, just as electric fire warmed my brain.

"Ah, yes?"

He was a thousand subtle movements, caught in an expression I couldn't quite understand in this context.
Did he know me?
Every time I tried to wrack my brain for clues my stupid headache stubbornly pushed back, trying to block out the grey eyes viewing me like something foreign and altogether familiar.

His chest rose slowly once, twice. I waited like a nervous sheep, leg bouncing uncontrollably under the counter.

"You don't recognize me?" He asked so softly I had to lean in. Again the numbness of my brain fought back the probing fingers tearing at its seams. Did I recognize him? He was dressed a little eccentrically. A pro hero, perhaps? I'd never been particularly interested in that aspect of society and wouldn't recognize him even if he was famous.

"Did we..take a class together, or something?" He knew my name- he'd addressed me by my first name, as if such intimacy was normal for us. I swallowed, threw a glance at my nearby cell phone. He seemed to take note, backing up a step.

"We taught together," He said slowly.

Ah. Another student-teacher during my college field work would make sense; we were so often jumbled in the same room for meetings and pep talks. I would've never remembered one person from another- especially if he'd been dressed formally and so differently than he appeared now. I nodded, letting my shoulders relax.

"Okay. Well, um. I'm really embarrassed to say I don't remember your name. I'm Chiyo Tsutomi, obviously. You are-?"
"Shota," Saying it seemed to physically pain him. He took another breath, tried again. "Shota Aizawa."

A far off light rose from the shadowed island when he spoke his name. Illuminated the dark waters, pulled at the tide. Just as quickly, though, the light faded, leaving me in the suffocating depths.
I shook off the daydream like a bad habit. Which, I supposed, it was.

"Is there anything I can help you find, Aizawa?" The tone was rather impolite for a sales clerk wanting to make commission. The pain shooting between my neurons ignored this point. Who is this guy? Why would he come in here and try to strike up a conversation like this?

Again he seemed to be thinking, making me uncomfortable with the way he stared. Not creepy, exactly, but...careful. Like a crane debating whether to cross the lake and chance the snakes hiding in the reeds.

"I'm looking for a Miyazaki film."
"Oh!" Odd; he looked even older than I was. Then again, I watched my favorites at least once a month without the slightest essence of shame. "Which one?"
He scoffed, as if there was only one obvious choice. I narrowed my eyes.
"Wait here."

The man did as he was told, in the same exact spot when I returned and handed him the jewel case. A girl dressed in pink challenged his stare, quietly defiant in front of a bathhouse. The turn of his lips was nearly lost under all that scruff and scarf, but I just managed to catch a dimple pock his left cheek.

"Why not Howl's Moving Castle, or Grave of the Fireflies?"

"Howl's Moving Castle is based on a book by the same name," I'd had this argument a thousand times over; I was well-prepared for the attack. "And while Howl's is nearly perfect, Spirited Away is a masterpiece." I paused. "Not that the others aren't too, but- Grave of the Fireflies rips my heart to shreds. I can only watch it once in a blue moon."

"Mm."
Mm? The dimple moved again with my indignant squint. "Do you disagree?"
"Not at all."

"Shota, are you sleepy?"
"Not at all."

He caught the rack of popcorn I sent careening towards the floor, brows raising in my direction. A firetruck would pale in comparison to my face right now.

"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, just awkward, I guess," My laugh sounded half-crazed but the shuddering of my left arm was far more concerning. I wrapped it around myself, trying to still its rage. "Was I right? Was this the one you wanted?"

Aizawa smiled without answering. I huffed at his inability to sing the praise I so justly deserved. He fidgeted with the film's case, tapped one corner in thought.

"What makes you like this one so much?"
"What's not to like?"

He waited. I let out a little sigh, settling in to fully delve into the question. If he's going to continue this weird conversation, at least we have a good topic on our hands.
"The main character, Chihiro, is just a normal girl. No super powers, no crazy spells- she's just a girl wanting to save her family. Completely average, but she saves the day."

"She would've faded away in the first ten minutes without Haku," He pointed out. Again with the smile, spread out in response to my frown.

"Haku helps her, yeah. But she saves his life. Twice, mind you."
"Certainly no damsel, hm?"

I was caught in a strange in-between. Like someone had placed a fish-eye lens on the world, and I was left trying to decipher the edges.
How do I not remember him from school?
He could almost be called handsome, if he cleaned himself up a bit. Despite the sharp edges, the sickly pallor of his face, there was a softness to him, hidden beneath the layers.

"So is this how you pick up men, based on their movie recommendations?"
The fire truck wailed its sirens, headed for my inflamed face once again. "Excuse me?"

"Once, when we taught together, you mentioned how you stalked out a video store and rented the clerk's recommendations until he 'bought a clue'. I can't help but wonder if you're picking up on that habit."

A handful of objections and questions fought to escape at the same time. When had I ever said something so personal in front of this guy? I wouldn't have, surely.

But that's exactly what I had done to Seiichi all those years ago. How could he know? He certainly didn't seem the jellyfish type Seiichi hanged out with- I would've noticed the bulge of a Magic the Gathering card deck in his pocket by now- meaning this wasn't a little tidbit gleaned from anyone other than myself.

But more importantly- was he accusing me of trying to pick him up? This ninja-clad, long-haired weirdo who'd wandered in, testing me over animated films, thought I was the one being shady?

Worse: now he was smirking at me, openly interested in the war rampaging through my features.

Worse times five: my chest fluttered at the sight like some prepubescent schoolgirl, tripping over the boyish crinkle of his eyes and falling into that damned dimple.

"I'm sorry, but what school do you teach at now?" I stomped behind the counter to give him space. Just in case he thought I was still trying to pick him up. "They need to be made aware of your clearly-harassing nature. Please tell me you don't teach primary."

"No," The smile faded and a pitiful part of my chest mourned the loss. I pinched the skin covering my ribs in admonishment. "I teach at UA High School."
"Oh," Wow. The hero idea probably wasn't too far off the marker, then. He seemed to mull over his next words carefully.
"We first met at your interview there, a few months back."

A beat of silence- it wasn't a joke.

"What?" I laughed. His expression didn't return my joviality and my eyes nearly bugged out of me head. "Are you crazy? That place has skyscraper expectations; I wouldn't dream of even applying, let alone getting an interview."

"On the contrary, you made such an impression on the principal and All Might, they wanted to bring you in the very next day. I was the begrudging last vote that dragged its heels for a few days." He looked away with a sigh, continued under his breath, "The telepath would've been less troublesome in the long run- I still stand by that notion-"

"I think you've confused me with someone," There was no way- no reality- where I would've been given such an opportunity; I could barely string a sentence together. My mom still did my laundry and walked me home from work, for shit's sake. The very thought caused my increasing headache to snake into my eyesight. "I'm sorry, but I've never worked at UA- They would've never even allowed me to student teach there-"

"You seem more caught on the idea you wouldn't be qualified than this event actually happening."

"Because it couldn't happen- I'm not qualified-" His words sank in, stuttering my response.
Indeed, it was an odd aspect to have focused on, rather than trying to outright deny the event ever happened. Because it didn't.
"Listen. I've never even been to UA. I have zero interest in heroism, so I wouldn't have even applied there. The very idea is ridiculous. I mean, look at me, I-"
"You're trembling, Chiyo."

The way he said my name.
The way his grey eyes looked now, close enough to properly see with the returning light.

But I was still sinking, caught under the surface, skin prickly from the attempted escape.

"Who are you?"
"Chiyo, I-"
"You need to leave." The stool tumbled to the ground; I didn't bother to pick it up, never taking my hard stare off the man across the counter. His mouth opened and I reacted, moving further away. The shaking force of my limbs was making it hard to even breathe.
"Please, leave."

"I can't," He answered quietly, terrifyingly. "I can't leave you."
"I don't know you," I hissed back. Nasu let out a yowl, rudely awakened as I stepped on his tail.

Before I could grab his fat, skillful body, he pounced onto the counter.
My protests, the fear that gripped my senses over the safety of that stupid, vindictive little cat, melted like ice in fire as Nasu lay before Shota Aizawa-
-and revealed the stomach reserved only for the most sacred of people.

"He's a cat of good taste."

This wasn't possible.
Nothing happening made any sense.

Shota Aizawa looked over to me, Nasu still wrapped around his hands.

"Your name is Chiyo Tsutomi. For the past four months, you've served as the Ethics instructor at UA High School. You excel at your job and the students love you- more than they should, probably. That's not a slander on your name, rather just an observation after a handful of them nearly knocked down my door this morning inquiring after you. You have a black cat named Nasu, who is the best judge of character on this planet. There's a scar in the crook of your left arm and one behind your right knee- both were caused by an attack on the school a month or so ago. You believe your tremors are caused by an accident when you were a child. They're not, Chiyo. Not from the accident you think you remember."

"But who are you?"

An unremembered life interlaced with facts- verifiable facts that I knew to be true- it all seemed to pale in comparison with the way my name fell from his lips.

The rain continued to drum a soft melody outside. My heart tried to match the cadence.

A notebook, worn on the edges and too familiar to be the first time I'd seen it, appeared, gently placed on the counter without the giver drawing closer.

"I...don't want to confuse you any further. This is yours; I was told Katsuki Bakugo found it after recalling your penchant for hiding things."

He didn't answer my question. Instead he supplied me with a dozen more, each more pressing than the last.

"My mom- she'll be here, soon," What was I saying? What was I doing? I felt warm under his watchful gaze but didn't look away. "If- If she sees you, you'll never see me again."

"Don't go with her." He sounded near pleading. I shook my head.
"Tomorrow. I work five to eleven tomorrow. Meet me here at four."

This was too much; it was all too much.
But the way he said my name.

"I'll be there." He gave the notebook a gentle nudge, sliding it closer to my side. "Don't let Hannei find this."

"Please go," I whispered. The etchings of something unknown, dressed in the colorings of pain, curved his brow, filled in that dimple, but he complied to my request.

It wasn't until Shota Aizawa was out of sight, with no one but Nasu as witness, that I caved into myself, a mass of shaking limbs and watery eyes and snot, submersion fighting valiantly to assist.

The notebook was mine- I could tell before even seeing the handwriting lining every page, marred by my scribbles rather than the eraser I could've so easily utilized at any given time.

My name is Chiyo Tsutomi. I live in Musutafu, Japan, and am currently a teacher at UA High School. Over the last few weeks, I've experienced the re-emergence of memories that had been seemingly blocked or altered. I believe my mother, Hannei Tsutomi, had something to do with this.

Page after page.
Explicit, detailed notes- the inner workings of my brain, doled out for me to rediscover.

I didn't feel his hands or the tears on my face, the frantic way Seiichi was calling my name.

I could only feel the coldness of the water.
I'd been afraid, reserved and wary of every passerby, every street corner, waiting for the nightmare's dried hands to escape, catch and drown me.

All this time, it was my mother's hands around my neck.


Author's Note: In case you didn't pick up on it, the beginning is near-identical to the very first chapter of this story- when Chiyo was in the loop of Hannei's control, whatever it is, just as chapter forty-two finds her again.
I did a lot of research into flower symbolism in order to create Hannei's particular scent. That's all I'll say about that. :-)
In case it wasn't obvious, the italicized quotes are fragmented memories of conversation Chiyo had with people during her UA stint (mostly just Aizawa. Okay, all of them Aizawa.), and are followed by a nasty tremor. I wonder why?
I looooove Studio Ghibli films. That sort of bled through into this story. I think Chiyo relates to Chihiro and the way she sees herself. Which is great, because there's a certain someone I could imagine seeing himself as her Haku.
I don't want to explain the entire story away (more than I continuously do), but have you noticed similarities in what Hannei experienced and what haunts Chiyo's nightmares?
(Okay I'll stop now. I never read author blurbs and assume no one else does, either. Forgive me and my nerdy insights)