"State your name."

A translucent ghost, eyes dead, did not respond.

"State your name."

One week passed and still no news- not so much as a sighting. Of any of them.

"Ma'am, state your name."

She clung to the wrenching memory, the last time she may ever see her daughter again; the fragile figure of a woman, eyes like crushed faith and delphinium, hair in a torn crown upon her head.

Was this her doing?

Tired, the investigator rose, walked out of the makeshift bedroom. Considerations had been taken to make the cell seem homey; a twin-sized bed fitted with sheets and a sensible comforter replaced what would have been a military cot. Books sat atop a bedside table, soft-leather and edgeless. Someone had even taken the liberty to bring in a bouquet of poppies, red and white petals opaque in the sunshine trickling in from the sealed window.
Chiyo wouldn't have wanted her to suffer. Even after all this, her love proved genuine.

Another man entered, took the place of the plain-faced detective, door silent as he closed them in.
She wished he would just kill her.

He didn't have a recorder; there was no need. The mirrored glass observed her every move, done so for the past seven days.
Watched her lie in bed.
Stare at the floor.
Ignore the numerous interrogators. Two, maybe three a day, unseen by the living phantom of the room.
The glass seemed to sigh along with each failed attempt.

But this man- this one did not seem to be following anyone's agenda.
He did not introduce himself. The chair soundlessly moved from the table before he sat across from her, as if doing so were a familiar act- one done before.

"State your name."

"Kishi Otani."

If he was surprised she answered, he didn't show it. The glass, meanwhile, nearly shattered in surprise.

"Who is Hannei Tsutomi?"
"Hannei Tsutomi is the identity I've used for the past twenty-seven years."
"How was this made possible?"

Her unblinking gaze remained on the poppies. Had Chiyo requested them?
No. She wasn't even here to make such requests.

"Twenty-seven years ago, I was attacked by Kotaro Shimura. His guardian made a deal with me- in exchange for letting the case go, I would be able to restart my life."

"Why and how were you attacked?"
The breath from her was stale, deadened. "He tried to drown me in a lake."
"Why?"
"Because he asked if I had a quirk. And then I showed it to him."

A soft exhale of settling knowledge; her quirk bore no surprise to this particular investigator. She guessed as much- he was the clever one who led her daughter astray to begin with, after all.

"What is your quirk, Kishi?"
A lie. An instrument of destruction.
"If you ever hope to see your daughter again, you need to answer my questions."

The glaze of her eyes felt cold when lifted to at last take him in. Hannei wondered if her appearance was as haunted as his. Sleep, it seemed, was alluding them both.

"Desiccation."

This information, however, broke through his tired-eyed facade.

"Sixty percent of the body is composed of water. Surely my daughter told you this." Her tired eyes drew back to the window, as if giving a rehearsed answer for an exam. "The skin, the organs, the brain itself. Even neurons are surrounded by water molecules."

That day, when Kotaro finally thought to ask about her quirk. She thought he would be so impressed with how fine-tuned her skill was, how easily she broke into his mind.
How wrong Kishi Otani had been.
'Your power isn't a gift; quirks are not gifts, they're instruments of death.'

"Anyone can be convinced to do anything with the right conditioning. Dry out the right neural tissue and you can erase memory, even. Create a clean slate."
"What did you do to your daughter, Kishi?"
Some strength returned to her jaw, eyes burning into his. "I did everything I could to protect her-"

"By damaging her brain cells?" He leaned back after posing the question, either appalled or trying to restrain himself from jumping across the table. The way his hands shook, she assumed the latter. "Can you explain exactly what desiccation entails in reference to your daughter?"

He still hadn't said her name. As if it were too sacred, call out unseen spirits to drag them away.
Hannei realized she hadn't, either.

"There is a process, to memory. We create pathways to access information; the more use a route has, the more ingrained it becomes. Short-term information is stored in the hippocampus," A pale finger rose to the side of her head like a gun. "Long-term memory, though, is strewn throughout, with the hippocampus acting as the primary storehouse. Damage it, and you could destroy a person."

Which is why she had to be so careful, only doling out her quirk bit by bit every few days. If she hadn't- if she had hurt her- life itself would have faded.

"There are side effects with any sort of neural- with any tampering."
"Headaches," He clarified. A loll of her head.
"Dehydration. Loss of mental clarity. All minor, non-life threatening." Hadn't it been?
"The tremors."
Kishi Otani nodded again.
"You dried out the neurons and fluids in her hippocampus. How did you then convince her into your way of thinking?"
"Like the hippocampus, the amygdala is involved in memory. Emotional responses to memories- how we remember them, feel about-"
A memory of her own, cold and sickening, ripped through Hannei like a plague; of Chiyo at a younger age, crying and afraid of losing her only friend, trying to fight the fingers pressing into her temples with promises of being more careful, always obeying her commandments.

What had she done?

If Kishi expected him to feel sympathy, he didn't. Even as the realization of her horrifying actions, the insidiousness of her behavior, crashed into her like a high tide, broke her bones to pieces.

"You influenced her into fearing what you yourself feared."
"I had to keep her safe-"
"How often?"
She couldn't look at him. Couldn't face what she had done, in blind conviction to her daughter's safety.

What had she done?

"How often, Kishi."
"You kept her away from me. You sucked up her time like a dessert, only to fail her, too." Her eyes finally slid to his face, wild and angry. A beast fighting on its last, wobbling leg, trying to justify murdering its own kin for fear of someone else doing so.
"You had a chance- if you had just told her how you felt, she wouldn't have gone with that monster-"

"You know him, don't you."
She shouldn't have let the surprised fear into her face, answer enough.
"What do you know, Kishi?"
"I know how to keep my distance from danger."

There were too many answers desired with too little time to ask. Based on the hard, fear-etched skin pulled tightly across her face, this path would only lead down a winding dead end.

"You have to be aware of a memory- we know that much. By the way you reached out at her, I'm assuming you must need physical contact. What other limitations are there?"
"That's it."
He leaned forward as if he misheard. "How can your quirk be undone?"
"It can't."
"That's...not possible," He argued, almost to himself. "There has to be a way-"

"There isn't!" Kishi emphasized the words with the slam of her hand against the table. The tinkling of glass responded, water and broken fragments acting as dew among the fallen poppies. He didn't even flinch; just continued watching her with a cool expression.

Shota Aizawa hadn't been offended when they did not approach him to interrogate Kishi Otani.
If they allowed him so close, observed or not, he was near certain he'd take her life.

No matter how many times she said it, regardless of her blind love, Chiyo Tsutomi had been played like a puppet, marionetted since the day she'd learned to say her first word.

To him, Kishi Otani never deserved to see the light of day again.

Looking at the dried husk she was now didn't ease the hatred in his heart. But anything, any information she could give, was worth the grueling amount of effort it took not to snub her life out like a candle. He wasn't here for her.

Kishi Otani, in the right light, did resemble her daughter; the fullness of her mouth, the dotted freckles of her skin. But while they gave the daughter character, the features seemed harsh, ugly on Kishi Otani, like a room of funhouse mirrors centered around one person.

"Why me?"
There had been countless questioners: psychiatrists, police officers, detectives. Trained counselors. None had been given so much as a name.
When Kishi looked into his eyes there was nothing of Chiyo in them- just a deranged woman who'd thought she'd known best.
Only now, they were taking him in, with a sudden clarity that sped his heart rate.

"Do you really need to ask, Shota Aizawa?"
An iron gate closed his throat and she raised her head, curious.
"I've seen the way you look at her, like she's the only star in your sky. She thought I was just teasing when I asked if you were in love with her, but you and I both knew that wasn't the case."

He didn't flinch as she leaned in, though spiders crawled into his marrow at the scent of her reaper's breath.

"She never immobilized you; you could've stopped her at any time. Why didn't you?"

The question had plagued him ever since her hand disappeared into the mist, body swallowed and willingly taken with the League of Villains.

What am I to you?

There seemed nothing deranged about Kishi Otani as she watched him writhe. Just aching exhaustion, a numbness that was eating her whole.

"Chiyo's had enough people decide her actions for her-"

"That's bullshit," Kishi hit the table so hard the impact wobbled the two-way mirror. "Look at you. You haven't slept in days- I've been constantly interrogated for the last week. You're looking for her; you wouldn't be trying this hard if you didn't regret letting her walk away. You were scared to tell her the truth. You're scared now."

Her breathing was haggard. On top of insomnia, she'd refused nearly every meal they offered, surviving on the thinnest of broths. Kishi fell back in her chair, winded. A crooked smile attempted her mouth.

"Love makes us fools, Shota. Every last one of us."
"Don't compare me to you," Aizawa said quietly. "We're not the same."

"Aren't we?" She sounded genuinely curious. "I pushed too hard, you're letting her slip through your fingers. We were both too fearful of what could happen. And now I've lost her forever. But you," The fingers which caught his were frighteningly cold, touched by death itself. "You still have a chance. Don't waste it like I did."

Aizawa broke his hand from hers. Hannei easily complied, both frail and finished. She beheld his departure without another word.

When the door closed she stood, collected the poppies one by one.
They withered to ash at her touch.


Author's Note: Hello! Thank you for all the reviews! I heeded your comments and edited Chapter Forty-Three. I hope it makes more sense now. You might have noticed, but dreamy-romantic fluff is more my speed, but I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone with this arc. Please, keep the comments coming! My skin may be a little thin, but I do appreciate the constructive criticisms. Thank you! *bows profusely*
- You may have noticed that, when the story seems more in the perspective of Kishi, she refers to herself as Hannei; when Aizawa's perspective/dialogue is written, he refers to her as Kishi. To Chiyo's mother, Kishi died the day Chiyo was put in her arms. Aizawa, meanwhile, nearly wields the name as an accusation, a weapon. I hope the name usage wasn't too confusing.
-Hannei means reflection.
-I thought desiccation was such a cool word, and the Google search brings up some pretty cool (haunting?) photos!