"There is nothing more cruel than letting a dream end midway."
Something was off.
I sat in my bedroom, my back pressed against the wall behind my bed. Glancing around, I was certain that it was my room. Upon closer inspection, however, I slowly became aware that the colors were slightly off… It was as though each color had been inverted into its opposite. I glanced to my right, my one good eye gazing at the wall that was there. Normally, that would have been where the door to my room was. All that met my gaze was a blank, empty, wall.
That was the moment I knew that I was dreaming.
"You've figured it out, then?"
The voice in front of me caught my attention, drawing me out of my brief confusion. I had been certain that there had been nothing except for my desk in front of me just a moment ago, but when I tore my gaze away to stare at my desk, it dawned on me that I was not alone. The chair on my desk had been pulled slightly outward, and there was something sitting in it. I grimaced: it was not something that I very much enjoyed looking at.
The entity that was now sitting in my desk chair stared back at me. At least, I assumed that it was staring: it did not have any eyes. Its skin was not quite skin, its pinkish hue glistening in the strange lighting that filled my dream-state bedroom. The appearance of its skin made my own skin crawl; I was simultaneously repulsed and amused, as the texture and coloring reminded me vaguely of imitation crab.
"Hey," it barked at me, apparently not pleased with my lack of reply. "I asked you a question!"
"It seemed like it was rhetorical." I replied blandly, doing my best to not let my annoyance and revulsion show on my face. "Realized what, exactly? That this is a dream?" The entity released a 'tch' of frustration, draping itself lazily over the back of the chair in a haphazard manner.
"No…" it drawled. "Not that…"
Its neck had stretched out to an unnatural length, grazing the back of the chair as it waved in the open air languidly. Its mouth was extremely wide — too wide for comfort. Whenever it spoke I was unable to ignore the freakishly long fangs that occupied its mouth, exposed all too easily due to the lack of any real lips. When the mouth was closed its teeth did not disappear entirely — likely due to the aforementioned lack of lips — instead clenching together in the front of its mouth, glistening in the light.
"What, then?" I pressed. I wanted to get out of bed, but my body was not obeying my commands. "Why are you in my room?"
"Our room," it corrected, its face still set on my own. I could not for the life of me tell whether or not it was looking at me. "We both live here, after all. Don't tell me you wanna keep this place all to yourself?"
"And why wouldn't I?" I snapped, frowning to show it my displeasure. It frowned, as much as that thing could frown for having such large teeth and no lips or actual skin. It looked quite cartoonish. "It is my room, after all. I've never seen you before."
"Seems like someone hasn't been looking hard enough," it sang. It let out a cackle, and my hair stuck up on end immediately. Was this some sort of villain that had taken control of my mind? I could not be sure. "I'm with you all the time, and here you are admitting that you've never even noticed me!" Its neck had shored up again, resting its head on its shoulders the way most human's heads ought to be. "Careful now, Daichi, or you're going to hurt my feelings."
"Tell me about yourself, then," I replied, doing my best to keep my tone calm. I was now starting to feel quite uncomfortable. "So that I can be more careful not to hurt your feelings." My goal was to keep it distracted, to give me enough time to figure it out. The creature laughed, jerking its body ever so slightly, but not getting up from the chair.
"I'll give you a hint," it cackled. "What's that lil' thingy that over eighty percent of the population on this planet have?" My eyes widened.
"A Quirk," I said, doing my best to keep my anxiety in check. "You're somebody's Quirk." The creature rolled its head. Had the creature possessed any eyes, I was certain that it would have been rolling them at me.
"Somebody's Quirk," it cried with sorrow, repeating my words back to me. It curled its body around itself, soon growing to resemble a tightly packed ball of pink and white rubber bands. "That hurts me, Daichi, it really does."
"I didn't mean to —" I began.
The creature cut me off, unfurling itself from its protective coil swiftly before lunging directly at me. I did not have enough time to move away from it, although with my body still unresponsive to my mental commands, I very much doubted that I could have managed it. Its arms suddenly grew triple their original length, pulsating as they crashed down on the mattress on either side of me. My one good eye widened, shock overtaking me in response to our suddenly all too close proximities. The creature's teeth were bared, but I was certain that it was not smiling.
"Whose Quirk!" it demanded, thin lines of black saliva trailing off of the razor sharp edges of its teeth. I felt my throat begin to get dry. "Say it! Whose Quirk, Daichi?"
"I don't know!" I cried desperately. I was waiting for my temperature to spike, for me to be able to move something within the room to help me, but nothing happened. "I'm sorry, please, I don't know!" I continued. I gazed at the creature's face, finding myself wishing more and more that it had eyes so that I could better read its mood. "This is a dream, this is a dream, this is a dream…" My whispers broke through our awkward, tense silence. My lips felt dry, and my voice cracked when I spoke.
"Stupid," it hissed. Its giant arms pulled away from me, the mattress groaning with every movement that it made. "This is so stupid." it continued. Its body was now coiled like a cobra at the foot of the bed, its arms now reduced to their original size, propping up its torso away from its coiled lower body.
"I'm sorry," I choked out, gazing at the creature with my one good eye. Even without any eyes, I could tell that it was feeling frustrated and disappointed. "Look, if you would just tell me who it is —"
"What's the point of that?" it screeched, cutting me off mid sentence. "It's no good if you can't guess it!"
"But —"
"Shut up," it continued, turning away from me. "I'm done with you. Wake up."
I rose from my bed with a start. Sweat dripped down every part of my body, the sheets below me absolutely soaked with it. My peach colored hair stuck to the sides of my face, tugging uncomfortably at the bandage that covered my right eye. My breathing was heavy and ragged, my heart beating rapidly in my chest as I desperately tried to recover from my all too vivid dream.
I glanced to my right, relief swelling within me when I realized that my door was right where it should be. My room was empty, save for myself and my furniture. My desk chair was pushed in, devoid of any person sitting in it. The only thing that I could place that was different was the clutter of medical supplies spilled out across the top of my desk, gauze messily rewound onto its spool. The trashcan held wads of old gauze and cloth, some of it barely tinted pink from trace amount of blood. I lifted my hand to my right eye, petting the smooth cloth that covered it. My face fell.
"Daichi,"
My father's voice broke through my thoughts, my face snapping toward the still closed door. Through it I could hear the clatter of pots and the clink of china as my father made what I could only assume was to be breakfast. I let out a sigh, desiring nothing more than to put the dream out of my mind. My father called my name again as I touched the bottoms of my feet to the ground, gingerly lifting myself out of bed.
"Coming!" I called back, snagging the grey linen robe that was hung on the wall. I slid it over the plain white nightgown that I was wearing, wanting to cover up the giant stains from sweat that decorated the sides and back.
I walked down the stairs slowly, the faint smell of porridge meeting my nose and growing stronger the further I got down the stairs. Through the entrance to the kitchen I could glimpse my father, now bandage free, setting the table for the two of us to eat. I entered the kitchen, grasping the wall for support as I felt myself briefly lose my balance. I was still feeling a little bit week.
"Morning," my father mumbled. He pulled out my chair for me, placing a hot bowl of porridge in front of me before pushing my chair back in. I glanced up at him, but he was not looking at me. "I was hoping you'd wake up today, but I wasn't sure."
"Thanks for the meal," was my only reply. I picked up a spoon, watching my father through my lashes as he sat down opposite me.
"How're you feeling?" he asked, his voice calm. He took a bite of his porridge, blowing on it first to cool it off. He still was not looking at me.
"Fine," I muttered through a mouthful of porridge. "A little weak… How long was I asleep?"
"Only a day," my father replied. Finally, he met my gaze. There was a small scar below one of his eyes, and I held back a frown. Shigaraki Tomura had given him that. "School's out for two days to allow students to recover from the festival."
"Who won?" I blurted, suddenly feeling very curious. "Was it Shouto?" My father shook his head solemnly.
"No. Bakugo." Despite myself, I choked on my porridge.
"Bakugo?" I yelled, paying no mind to the porridge I had let spill from my spoon. "But —"
"That's right." my father said resolutely. "He only got that far because you forfeited your win. He wasn't pleased. Basically refused to accept the medal."
Disappointment pooled deep inside my stomach. I gazed down at the table, pushing my porridge away from me. If I had just able to keep better control, or had paid better attention and not gotten injured, perhaps it would have been me in first place. I would have rather place first, second — hell, even third — than embarrassed my father the way that I had.
"Shouto got second place." my father continued through mouthfuls of food. "His fight with Midoriya shook him, a little."
"What do you mean?" I asked, growing curious. My father shrugged.
"Ask him yourself." he commanded. He took a sip of juice, swirling it around in his mouth before swallowing. "School's back tomorrow, after all."
"It was because of his father, wasn't it?" I murmured, gazing into my porridge. I held back a chuckle as the thought crossed my mind of reading one's fortune through porridge dregs instead of tea leaves. "He was in a mood all day about him."
"Endeavor?" my father said, chuckling to himself. "Families are tough enough as it is. Imagine having that guy around for a father."
"His mother isn't around, either," I continued, still not looking at my father. "Just like me." My father had stopped eating, his spoon just a ways away from his lips.
"His mother isn't dead —" he began, but I cut him off.
"That's isn't — that's not the point," I stammered, finally looking him in the eyes. He had returned his spoon to his bowl. "Papa, All Might told me about her. He told me that she became a villain." My father's expression had turned cold, his eyes locked on mine unflinchingly.
"All Might has been speaking out of turn." he muttered bitterly, pushing his own porridge away. "He had no right to do that." I frowned.
"So you really did just plan to keep it from me forever, then?" I hissed. My own feelings reminded me of the creature in my dream. "You can't be angry with All Might for doing what you refused to do — for being honest with me!"
"I never said I was going to keep it from you forever," my father replied, his tone still serious. "But there is a time and a place —"
"When?" I yelled, banging my hands against the table. Our bowls of porridge clattered against the table top. "What time, papa, what place? You can't possibly have been waiting for a time when it would suddenly dawn on you: 'hey, this is perfect for telling my daughter that her mother died a villain'!" My father bristled, retreating slightly into his chair.
"I know you know that isn't what I meant."
"What, then?" I spat. I was no longer in my chair, my frustration overtaking me. "What else haven't you told me, papa?"
My father was silent for a very long while. His tired dark eyes regarded his porridge, his gaze making it look as though the food had done something to offend him. I stayed silent, too, focussing on steading my breathing, desperate to be more calm, but not wanting to let go of my anger. I stared at my father, for some reason feeling as though if I were to look away for even a moment, he would be gone. At last, my father took a deep breath, meeting my gaze again.
"Your mother started out as a hero. Her name was Shigaraki Izanami. Heaven's Gate was her hero name," he began. His tone was curt, but I could tell that he was not angry. "Her Quirk, like we've discussed, was an interesting one. The What If Quirk, it was called among heroes. What we first assumed to be a basic healing Quirk, like Recovery Girl's, we later discovered was actually the ability to transport objects — any object, even a body part — into an alternate timeline."
"What does that mean?" I asked, taking my seat again. "An alternate timeline…" My father sighed tiredly.
"As a hero, Izanami used her Quirk to revert injured parts to a timeline where they had never been injured in the first place." he explained calmly. I could hear just a hint of mourning in his tone. "As a villain, she could use that same power to completely destroy those same things that she had sworn to protect and heal. It was like watching an apple wither and rot."
"Just like Shigaraki Tomura's Quirk…" I muttered darkly. I clenched my fists, my good eye falling again on the scar on my father's face. I could feel the resentment churning in my stomach. "We're related, aren't we?" I asked amidst a shaky breath. My father's face twitched.
"We got married early, I was young — she had been with someone else before me. She had a son." he said softly. He was gazing at his palms, and I almost thought that I saw tears glistening in his eyes. "The name Shigaraki was your mother's legal last name… But it was an alias that she adopted for her own reasons. Her son kept his father's name."
"The father's name...?" I repeated, my gaze searching my father's face for more answers. "Then what is Tomura's real name?" My father flinched slightly as though just thinking about it hurt him. "What… What is my mother's birth name?"
"That's enough." my father said, standing up abruptly. I flinched, surprised by the sudden movement. "We can talk about this another time."
"No, we need to talk about this now!" I demanded. I reached across the table, desperately trying to catch my father's arm as he turned to go. All I got was the feeling of fabric against my fingertips. "Papa!" I called after him, but it was too late. I heard heavy footsteps making their way down the hall, a pause, and then a slam. He was gone.
I had searched for my father all across the U.A. campus, which was mostly deserted due to the days off from school. It had been hours since our conversation at breakfast, and I soon found myself growing more and more frustrated with my inability to locate him. I had never known my father to leave campus other than on official hero business, but clearly he was nowhere to be found within the grounds of U.A.
I stepped through the entryway to the U.A. campus, my white jumpsuit catching in the light breeze as I walked. I was making my way down toward Tatooin Station, hoping that somehow I might find my father there. The streets were bustling with people going about their everyday business, and I tried my best to ignore the frequent stares that I received as more people began to recognize me as the girl who totally lost it at the sports festival.
I sighed, wiping a drop of sweat from my brow as I paused to take stock of my situation. I was at a four way stop, and to be completely honest, I was lost. It was true that my father only ever ventured off campus in order to do hero work. As a result, I rarely went off campus, either. My mouth was dry from thirst, and I was growing increasingly more panicked by both the loss of my father, as well as having clearly lost my sense of direction.
"Aizawa."
I jumped slightly as a hand was placed on my shoulder. I glanced back, relief washing over me when I realized that it was none other than Tokoyami Fumikage who had just appeared behind me. His large, bird like eyes regarded me coolly and, clearly sensing that I was on the verge of a breakdown, he ushered me over toward the coffee shop several yards before the four way stop that I had been standing at, frozen by confusion.
"Tokoyami," I sighed, somehow not feeling at all embarrassed by letting my relief at his presence show. "It's good to see you."
"Likewise," he said in his usual, self-assured tone. "I'm surprised to see you out in town."
"You're tellin' me," I muttered, rolling my one good eye. I felt a twinge of pain in the right side of my face where my eye would be. "What are you up to?"
"I was reading just here," he replied, gesturing toward a book that lay face down on the table he had just planted me at. "I thought I might take advantage of the day off."
"By reading?" I asked without thinking.
"I like reading." he replied stonily. I flushed, embarrassed.
"I don't not like reading," I blurted out.
Luckily, Tokoyami had already moved toward the line inside, returning a few moments later with an iced coffee for me. I sighed, thankful that he had not been around to hear my less than articulate attempt at a recovery.
"Do you need cream?" he asked. I shook my head, sipping the dark coffee through the straw. I could already feel myself beginning to calm down. "Good." he said, nodding in approval as I sipped my black coffee. "Revelry in the dark." I arched a single incredulous eyebrow, but said nothing.
Tokoyami took his place across from me, dog earring the page where he had stopped reading and placing the book back in his bag. I folded my hands in my lap, content to let my coffee sit for a moment while I gazed around the area of town that I was in. There were billboards everywhere advertising various heroes, and there was a pleasant background noise comprised of cars and people talking. I smiled, finally feeling calm again.
"Where were you going?" Tokoyami asked suddenly. I gave a nervous laugh.
"Ah…" I muttered, rubbing my fingers through my hair nervously. "I'm… I'm not really sure, to be honest." He gave me a look of disbelief. "I can't find my dad." I explained. He nodded.
"Having Aizawa-sensei for a father seems like it may be tricky." he said, nodding in understanding. I gave another nervous laugh.
"It isn't so bad." I said, halfheartedly coming to my father's defence.
"He is a moody one."
"You can say that again," I replied before taking another sip of coffee. "I doubt I'll find him. I'll probably just have to wait for him at home." Tokoyami gave me another reassuring nod.
"How is your eye?" he said stiffly.
Normally I found such formal speech off putting, but in Tokoyami's case it turned into something quite comforting. I wondered vaguely if it was because he resembled a cartoon bird. I sighed, touching my fingers to the cloth that covered my eye gingerly.
"It can't be fixed," I admitted sheepishly. "Recovery Girl did her best, so everything else is fine. The skin isn't even discolored. But…"
"Your eye is gone." Tokoyami finished my sentence for me. I nodded. "I suppose even Recovery Girl cannot turn back time." I felt my heart flutter excitedly, thinking back to my father's explanation of my mother's Quirk. If only I had been lucky enough to get a Quirk like that, perhaps I would not be in this situation.
"Yeah, I guess not." I said solemnly. "Can't say that I'm too pleased with Katsuki at the moment…"
"You are not the only one." Tokoyami admitted, taking a sip of his own drink. "After Todoroki recovered a little bit, he had a few choice words for him. As did Iida." Despite my now missing eye, and my anger with the one who had taken it, I felt myself smile.
"It's nice of them to get angry on my behalf." Tokoyami shrugged.
"That Bakugo allows his emotions to run away with him." he said, thinking out loud. "I often wonder how someone like that could make a good hero. He was so focussed on fighting that he disregarded doing irreversible damage."
"I don't think he did it on purpose."
"Perhaps."
The two of us lapsed into silence, drinking our coffees opposite one another for several minutes. Tokoyami was studying me coolly from his seat, his eyes never leaving me even when words failed us. At last, he broke the silence.
"I was unaware that you could control substances that were not dirt." he said seriously. I stopped drinking my coffee.
"So was I, until a little while ago." I replied, setting down my drink. I gazed at my now empty palms, both set lightly on top of my thighs. "I still can't control it very well. Actually, I completely lose control," I admitted. I was laughing, but it was a laugh of both embarrassment and sadness. Tokoyami's gaze was curious, but politely so. "That's the only reason I was able to hold my ground against those villains at the U.S.J."
"I see," Tokoyami said thoughtfully. "That explains a lot…" I nodded again, still gazing at my thighs. "It almost seems as if your Quirk has yet to fully manifest."
"What do you mean?"
"Your Quirk is clearly an Emitter type," Tokoyami began. He took another sip of his drink before leaning closer to me, his tone becoming more serious. "But there are a plethora of Emitter Quirks out there. We all assumed yours was a simple Emitter elemental Quirk, the ability to control the earth. Obviously, that is not the case."
"What's your point?" I asked, looking up to meet his eyes.
"The way that you lose control reminds me of my own Quirk, in many ways." he explained. I frowned. I had never seen Tokoyami lose control before. "Dark Shadow, as the name suggests, grows more unruly if it gets dark, or I leave my emotions unchecked. If things go too far, I eventually lose control over my body. At that point, Dark Shadow is in total control of me."
"Oh," I said, slowly understanding why Tokoyami was bothering to spend so much time with me on this. "I didn't know that."
"Not many of our classmates do," he admitted. "My point, though, is that the way you lose control of yourself indicates, to me anyway, that perhaps your Emitter Quirk is similar to mine. That is, your Quirk manifests within you as a kind of entity, with its own thoughts and abilities for control." I shook my head, laughing in disbelief.
"I've never seen anything like that with my Quirk, though," I sighed, quickly losing faith. "There's no way…" Tokoyami raised what I could only assume were eyebrows.
"You are the daughter of Eraserhead," he reminded me, as though I needed reminding. "Could it be possible that your Quirk is being suppressed?" My eyes widened, recalling my father's words when he had explained to me that he had analyzed my Quirk factor.
"The interesting thing is that it seems that your body naturally produces antibodies that help you stay out of your Quirk's control. The increase in your body temperature is a fever — your body is fighting your Quirk like it would fight any other sickness."
"It seems that you think that may be possible." Tokoyami continued, breaking through my thoughts. I glanced up at him again. "If that is in fact the case, then the true nature of your Quirk may have yet to manifest itself." I was speechless, able to do nothing else but stare into Tokoyami's eyes. "If I were a betting person, I would say that your Quirk is an entity like Dark Shadow, with the ability to gain control of your body and power."
I wandered through the back streets of Musutafu alone, my body growing cold in the evening air, my arms completely exposed to the elements due to the lack of sleeves on my white jumpsuit. In my hands I gripped a map, which Tokoyami had bought for me before tartly asking whether or not I even knew how to read one.
I rounded the corner, lifting the map up in front of me. I turned it in the air, realizing with faint embarrassment that I was in fact holding it upside down. I sighed loudly — I had been going in the entirely wrong direction.
I had been searching for my father all day with no luck. Tokoyami's musings about the true nature of my Quirk still rang in my ears, and each time I recalled them I felt my heart rate quicken, my thoughts each time returning to the creature in my dream. I shook my head, desperate to get the image of that strange creature out of my mind. I refolded the map, making to turn back around so that I could make my way back to the U.A. campus. It was then that something caught my eye.
Far to my left I glimpsed the cemetery, which I had always known was at the very edge of town. Normally, I would have been extremely disheartened upon realizing that I was in fact as far away from U.A. as I could possibly be while still being in the city of Musutafu. At that moment, however, I was thankful that I had lied to Tokoyami about being able to read a map.
There, amongst the stone monuments, stood my father. He had only just stood up, which is what had caught my attention in the first place. With a solemn look on his face he bowed to the headstone in front of him, turning sluggishly away from it and then making his way out of the cemetery. I watched him go, waiting until he had rounded the corner before I made my way, in an all out sprint, toward the headstone where he had just been standing.
I did not stop running until I was directly in front of the monument. It was small, but only slightly smaller than the hundreds of others that surrounded it. I sank to my knees, my one good eye wide with shock as I struggled in vain to catch my breath.
Directly in front of me was my mother's grave marker.
I heard a light smacking sound as a drop of rain hit the stone monument. It was followed by another, and then another, until I found myself caught in the downpour. I ignored it, my one eye still not able to move away from the name engraved on the marker. It had not been the name that I expected, but there was not a doubt in my mind that it was hers.
A small bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums* bent at the force with which the rain hit. Their small yellow petals danced in the rain, the tops sometimes grazing the stone behind them. They stopped just short of the name engraved there, the one I knew to be hers, and yet it was unfamiliar to me. I continued to stare, reading the name to myself over and over again in my mind.
Chisaki Izanami.
*yellow chrysanthemums are a traditional funeral flower in japan due to being a symbol of grief and mourning.
as usual, thank you again so much for all of the support! it means the world to me to know that there are people out there who are enjoying my writing!
