Heaven and Earth

by Shichan-san

A mother who could manipulate the heavens; a daughter who could manipulate the earth; a father who could negate both Quirks without even blinking. In a world of chaos that's been divided between good and evil, heroes and villains, what is a young hero-in-training to do when she discovers she's half and half? Slow-burner/Slight AU. ShoutaxOC/eventual OCxShouto.

18. Doldrums

Daichi had been having dreams.

Dreams in and of themselves were of little concern for Daichi. Repressed wishes, desires, hopes—these were the standard lenses through which to interpret dreams, or so she had always assumed. Yet, since the appearance of Vi, things had been different; dreams had been different. What was the difference between a dream and a memory? A real memory, and a false one? Was a false memory a dream in reality, and the memory never a dream? It was becoming increasingly difficult to draw the boundary between the real and the false. This was an unfortunate turn of events, considering that the stated goal of any psych ward was to remedy this exact problem. Instead, things only seemed to be getting more indeterminate, less grounded, more uncertain.

Three days had passed since Daichi had been admitted into the hospital. That meant that three days had passed since her encounter with Stain, the hero killer. Three days since her Quirk had decided to truly "awaken" from its slumber. It was ironic, really, that with Vi wide awake the world seemed like a dream more than ever before. Lately, Daichi had been experiencing bouts of giddiness, marked by deep chuckling under her breath that likely sent the orderlies into high alert on account of the sinister sounds that escaped from her throat.

At times like these, it became difficult for her to separate herself from her emotions, to reflect on them in a measured way that most well-adjusted human beings could be expected to perform. Was she a real person, or an illusion? Were her emotions things in her control, or not? Perhaps she was acting it all out, like a little play in her own head. Maybe none of it was even real in the first place; the thought had recently dawned on her that it was possible that her life in its entirety was a dream. Was she a hero-in-training, or a lunatic girl cooped up in a mental institution, dreaming her days away by filling them with flights of fancy?

Maybe I'm cursed. Daichi would often catch herself thinking this when she came up for air from one of her laughing spells. Maybe you're just a brat with a hero complex.

There was no cause for panic, though— not yet anyway. At least, not for the orderlies. The panic was, for the moment, completely self-contained. Daichi could sometimes recall bygone days from her childhood: standing in checkout lines with her father's back to her, she had developed the twisted habit of breaking snack and candy bars without any intentions of asking for her father to buy them. There was something oddly comforting about the contained destruction this small act of violence entailed. As a child, a wave of calm would overcome her as the candy bar snapped between her fingers, still bound by its wrapping. Now, it was as if this was all happening to her mind… to her very soul.

Daichi could no longer contain her exasperation at herself, the bitter irony of her own predicament. The more strength that Vi gained, the smaller she felt. She wondered if, one day, Vi would simply swallow her up. She would start living life for her, perhaps; this thought would flash through her mind periodically throughout the day. Maybe she would be the one to go to sleep, slowly diminishing in physical size until it was her living out her days as a malleable, fleshy lump on Vi's back instead of the other way around.

For the last two nights, Daichi had been plagued with the same dream. Each morning, as she and Todoroki Rei sat down with one another to play board games in the common area, Daichi had attempted to describe the dream to her in painstaking detail. Yet, despite her best efforts, words emerged from her mouth as a garbled mess. The details of the dream appeared in perfect clarity before her in her mind's eye, yet somewhere between the cloistered space of her inner world and her lips, something got lost in translation. This morning was no different.

"It's from my perspective," Daichi began slowly, taking a deep breath. A small wooden board sat on the table. Todoroki Rei, whose eyes were sliding carefully back-and-forth between Daichi and the items on the table, was positioned on the opposite side of the table. A small wooden X, painted red, was held between her thin fingers gingerly as she pondered where on the board to place it. "But I can tell that it isn't me looking. Does that make sense?"

Daichi was doing her best to ignore the impish musings of Vi from behind her. Over the last few days Vi's personality had developed into something solid and predictable, which Daichi was thankful for. Still, there were times –– not infrequent –– she wished that Kami would have mercy on her and allow Vi to experience a sudden personality change, a surge of maturity. Vi loved taunting; Vi loved poking fun; Vi loved teasing, goading, basically anything that involved getting the better of others or undercutting their confidence. It mattered little who it was, which was why, even faced with the ice-like tranquility of Todoroki Rei, Vi continued their taunting from across the table. Rei, of course, being a mother of four and wife to one of the more difficult professional heroes, was not so easily moved–– her prior psychological break notwithstanding.

"I suppose. But, then why say it's from your perspective?" Rei asked finally. She kept her voice mellow and level as she placed her small wooden X in the center of the tic-tac-toe board. Vi squeaked angrily from Daichi's back; Daichi ignored them. "Either it's your perspective, or it's not. The question is: is the dream from your perspective, or are you seeing the perspective of another?" Rei continued. Daichi pursed her lips. "That's the more interesting question, I think."

"Why does it matter?" Daichi replied tartly. She moved her own hand forward, placing a black O piece to the left of Rei's red X. Vi cheered; Daichi rolled her eye in response.

"Is that dividing line between you and a possible other not the very thing on which the interpretation of the dream hangs?" Daichi pursed her lips more, clearly puzzled. "In simpler terms, if you want to know the significance of the dream, that probably depends on figuring out whether the dream is about you or someone else."

"But either way it's in my mind, isn't it?" Daichi asked. "So, no matter who it is in the dream, it's me, ultimately, right?"

"Then why does it trouble you so much that the perspective seems not to be entirely your own?"

"I didn't say—"

"Yes, you did." Rei said coolly. She paused, then, saying nothing at all whilst staring in deep concentration at the center of the table with her fingertips pressed firmly against her lips. "Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man…" Rei said this in a whisper, almost too low to hear. Daichi frowned.

"What was that?"

Vi was wriggling around chaotically from their place on Daichi's back, having become rather irritated with the slow pace of the tic-tac-toe game. Clearly, the lush inner world of Daichi's dreams were of little interest to Vi. They yanked the red X from its resting place on the table near Rei's hand, moving it to a space on the board that neither Rei nor Daichi paid any mind to. Rei continued, ignoring Vi's escalation of the game.

"You said to me earlier, that the dream was from your perspective, but that it wasn't you," Rei recounted, ignoring Daichi's earlier question. "Does it not seem at all significant that even in the dream—the dream that's supposed to be yours—you are acutely aware that it isn't yours?"

Daichi cast her eye down, gazing at the wooden game board in front of them. Vi was now playing themselves in a game of tic-tac-toe, which, somehow, they were losing. Daichi desperately searched the memories from her dreams for some kind of cogent response to Rei's intervention. What was it about the dream that seemed like it belonged to her? Which parts seemed alien, foreign? It was difficult to distinguish the two—distinguishing in general had become a rather volatile task, of late. Daichi's eye narrowed and slid to her left, eyeing Vi carefully but not moving. Vi appeared to take no notice, which was confusing in itself.

When Daichi and Vi had first met, it had seemed as if their minds were one and the same. At least, they appeared to sharea space in Daichi's mind that they could both access. Vi's mind was entangled with Daichi's, but not reducible to it—that was what Daichi had initially assumed. But ever since Vi's full awakening—or, presumed full awakening, at least—their minds had apparently grown more and more separate. Daichi could have thoughts and, at least superficially, Vi appeared to take no notice of them. Was Vi ignoring them, or could Vi no longer hear Daichi's thoughts automatically? And, if the latter was the case, what did that mean?

"Try describing it to me again." Rei's words snatched Daichi away from her own thoughts, jolting her back to reality. She shook her head, feeling vaguely out of sorts by her sudden return to her surroundings. Rei could evidently sense her confusion because she immediately added, "The dream. Try describing your dream for me again."

Daichi took a bracing breath. "I'm looking at—"

"Try to describe it without using I." Rei interrupted. "Just say what's there. Take yourself out of the equation."

"Everything seems kind of purple."

"Purple?"

"Yeah, purple." Daichi said, inhaling sharply through her nose, focusing her mind on the images that still remained from the night before. "Bubbly and purple."

"Like you're underwater?"

"Yeah, I guess it's a bit similar to that…" Daichi replied, nodding. It hadn't occurred to her before, somehow, but Rei's words brought sudden clarity to the mishmash of random images dancing in her mind. "Yeah—the perspective is from underwater, or in liquid of some kind…"

"Alright, that's something," Rei said, nodding primly and leaning back in her chair. Her hands were folded in her lap, as she had a tendency of doing. She always seemed to sit very proper, Daichi had noticed. Rei's reserved and stoic nature seemed like something out of the Edo period: traditional, reserved, proper—yet strong. "Is the liquid all that you see in the dream?"

"No." Daichi responded almost in a whisper. "No, there are people there. I don't think I can really see them, but I—"

"There's that word again," Rei murmured. Daichi shot her a quizzical look. "I." Rei clarified.

"Ah, sorry." Daichi said. Vi had by this time dumped the Xs and Os out on the table and was stacking them as high as they would go in a vein attempt to entertain themselves. "There are people there, but their forms aren't clear from in the liquid."

"Are they speaking?"

"Yes, but to each other." Daichi explained. "No one talks into the liquid, but things happen around it."

"What kinds of things?"

"Talking, mostly."

"Talking about what?" Rei pressed. Even when pressing, though, Rei never seemed over-eager; she was always calm, always comforting. Daichi found herself wondering whether Shouto thought that Rei was a good mother. "Daichi?" Daichi jumped, having once again lost the thread of their interaction, lost in thought.

"Their words are hard to make out." Daichi began. "It seems like they might be planning something." She wasn't sure why, but by now her heart had begun to beat very quickly. Vi was no longer playing with the blocks but was now turned toward her. With Vi's eyelessness, it was difficult to ascertain their mood or even the direction of their gaze. Yet, Daichi could not help but feel that Vi now had their full attention fixed on her. "Their voices are low, deep… well, one of them is, anyway. The other…"

"So multiple voices." Rei said, nodding. "One is deep, calm, maybe?"

"More like assertive." Daichi corrected. "Confident."

"And the other?" Daichi averted her eye, making a face that was something between a grimace and a smirk. "What?" Daichi shrugged. "Please, tell me."

"It seems dumb now that I remember," Daichi sighed. She could feel her face and neck heating up, prickling uncomfortably, like when she overused her Quirk. You'd think I'd be used to the feeling by now, she thought to herself, shifting anxiously in her chair.

"It's alright for dreams to be dumb." Rei replied, her voice comforting, motherly.

"The other voice…" Daichi began, sighing again. "Well, it sounded, like… I dunno…" Daichi shrugged limply. Rei nodded encouragingly. "It sounded stupid," she finished lamely. She knew what it sounded like, and yet even after scouring her mind for other adjectives, this one seemed the most fitting.

"Stupid?" Rei repeated. She raised an eyebrow, looking taken aback. Daichi pressed her lips into a line, shrugging. "What do you mean, 'stupid'?" Daichi clicked her tongue against her teeth, gazing up at the ceiling frustratedly as she searched for the words to describe what kept replaying in her mind's eye.

"Like, cartoonish, or something," she said at last. Rei continued to look befuddled. "I don't know how else to describe it! In the dream it seemed perfectly normal, not strange, but when I think about it… I don't know, his voice just sounds totally weird!"

"So it's a male voice you remember?"

"Both of them, yeah…"

"Then, could you hear what they were saying?"

"No," Daichi sighed. "No, I can't remember… Maybe I could hear in the dream— hey, wait a minute!"

"What?"

"You said to stop thinking about the dream as mine," Daichi chided, "But here you are, asking me if I could hear what they were saying!" Rei paused, thinking it over. Then, she let out a soft, cooing laugh, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she did so. Daichi continued frowning.

"Ah, I've violated my own rule, it would seem…" Rei mused as her laughter died down. "Forgive me, Daichi, a slip of the tongue."

"Does this mean we can play the game now?" Vi interjected as they nudged the board with their face.

While Daichi's dream had temporarily drawn their attention, it had apparently been short lived. Daichi made to answer Vi, but before she could do so she noticed Rei's facial expression change. Her eyes were cast over Daichi's shoulder; Daichi followed her gaze, turning her head around, only to be met with another familiar face.

"Fancy that," Shouto said as he approached the table where Daichi and Rei had set up their game. "I suppose by this point I shouldn't be surprised finding the two of you together…"

Shouto had come to the hospital every day since Daichi had been admitted. Whether this was for her benefit, or owing to the fact that she shared the psych ward with Shouto's lately-less-estranged mother, Rei, remained a mystery. Shouto had as yet made no move to clarify his motivations for his daily visits to the psych ward. In fact, most days it felt to Daichi as if Shouto completely ignored her, or at the very least, he avoided her. Still, she was thankful that she still got to see him every day.

True, while fighting Stain she had not had much time to dwell on the sad fact that their time together at their internship had come to an early conclusion—and just as they had been getting closer. Her mind flashed briefly to their dinner together after their internship. Had it been a date? A date as friends, or as something more than that? Daichi performed mental somersaults over the issue repeatedly as Shouto pulled up a chair to their table. Her mind reeled—was he sitting closer to Rei? So he's here for his mother, after all, Daichi thought bitterly. Almost immediately, she felt guilt rise like bile in her throat—who was she to resent a son visiting his mother?

"Dai-chan!" A high-pitched voice pierced Daichi's eardrum like an arrow through an apple. She jolted out of her thoughts, moving to slap her hand to her ear to block out the noise. She ended up hitting Vi in the face, instead. "Hey-ay! That hurts!" Vi shouted, slithering through the air to make space between themselves and Daichi's ear. "Mind your hands!"

"Why don't you mind my ears!" Daichi retorted angrily. Shouto watched them coolly from his place by his mother, although the expression he wore seemed more than a little apprehensive. "You can't go shouting right into my ear, Vi, you'll make me go deaf."

"Speaking of shouting," Shouto interjected. His voice was mild and level, as usual. Daichi turned away from Vi to fix her gaze on Shouto and Rei. "Would you mind giving me some time with my mother? The two of you have been inseparable my last couple of visits…" At this, Rei chuckled.

"Please, Shouto, mind your manners." Rei patted the top of Shouto's head lovingly.

Unsurprisingly, this earned her a glower from Shouto, laced with embarrassment. Daichi felt her heart sink for a moment, a twinge of jealousy shooting through her chest. She had expected such jealousy to be directed at Rei—the other woman pulling Shouto's attention away from her. She quickly realized that it was exactly the opposite: she craved the secondhand embarrassment that seemed to be unique to the mother-child pair. Her gaze softened as she watched the two go back and forth, Rei laughing while Shouto begged her to please treat him more like a grownup. Just as she was beginning to opine on the existential hole left by her late mother, a low, tired, grim-sounding voice cut through the mother-son antics unfolding before her.

"Ah, there you are." Daichi's head snapped around at the familiar sound. There, to her left, stood her father. Rei paused from her gentle patting of Shouto's hair, to which he had begrudgingly conceded, to glance up at Shouta Aizawa from her place across from Daichi.

"Shouta," she said smoothly, sending a soft smile in his direction. "It's very good to see you after so long." Daichi cast her gaze in Rei's direction, shooting her a puzzled look. Before Rei could say anything more, Shouta had reached out to take Daichi's hand.

"You're looking well," Rei continued. Her voice was kind, measured and polite despite Shouta's insistence on ignoring her interjections. "How long it's been… How long has it been?" Rei asked this question more to herself than to Shouta, but nonetheless he answered her.

"Izanami's funeral," he replied stiffly. "I think that was the last time that we saw one another." Daichi's earlier confusion had by now transformed into surprise. Rei responded with a soft hum of affirmation, nodding.

"Yes, that must be it…" she said, sighing. "How I miss her… She was such a comfort… Until… Well, I needn't recount it for you, I'm sure."

"Indeed," Shouta replied, still sounding stern. "Excuse us. I need to speak to my daughter."

"By all means," Rei said, nodding graciously.

"They'd already asked me to leave anyways, papa, please don't be so rude." Daichi was doing her best to keep her frustration, aggravated by her confusion and feelings of being left in the dark, out of her voice. It was not lost on her father, who scowled.

"This is the welcome I get, after not seeing your father for three days?" Shouta's voice was grim yet somehow pitiful. Daichi allowed the scowl that had sprouted upon her father's arrival to sink more deeply into her features. She cross her arms, eager to express her displeasure as much as she possibly could.

"But you've just explained it— I haven't seen you for three days!"

At this point, Daichi allowed the frustration that had been creeping about the edges of her tone to fully emerge, coating her speech with an acidity that stung like Mina's Acid Shot. Shouta tried to suppress a wince, but failed, glancing over at Rei despite himself. She simply smiled.

"We should go," she said graciously. She stood up, prompting Shouto to rise from his chair, as well. "Until next time, Daichi-chan." Rei turned slowly, holding Shouto's arm as if for support. The two of them walked carefully away from the increasingly distressed father-daughter pair, leaving them to stew in their own frustrations.

"Way to go," Daichi muttered angrily, sinking deeper into her seat, a huff escaping her lips. "Be rude to my only friend in this place, why don't you."

"Yes, and I'm sure it's got nothing to do with that boy—"

"Don't talk to me about boys, papa," Daichi bit into his sentence before he could finish it. "Like I'd ever wanna talk to you about that."

"Right back at you," Shouta replied as he took Rei's place across the table. "Believe me, kid, the thought of your fast-approaching puberty is not a future that I approach with any semblance of excitement."

"Then why are you pressing the issue?"

"I think, my dear, that it's actually you who's pressing," Shouta responded, his irritation only barely disguised.

A long pause ensued. It had often occurred to Daichi that her relationship with her father was filled with pauses, until now. Had her father ever allowed another party or person to get close to their shared life, she figured that in all likelihood the two of them would be known for the way in which their relationship as father and daughter was based on a foundation of repression and frustration, out of which a deep and abiding care sprang but only rarely showed itself openly. Perhaps, she mused, it was something that those rare few who were close to her father, like Present Mic, saw and understood. Well, at the very least they could see it… Daichi grimaced to herself. Perhaps it was not something meant to be understood by others.

"Why're you making that face?" Shouta interjected. Daichi jumped, as did Vi, who had been toying with the tic-tac-toe pieces again. "You look like you've just eaten a bug."

"Well that would have required me to open my mouth, which obviously I didn't, because I'm refusing to speak to you."

"Why?"

"Well," Daichi began, "You kinda need to open your mouth if you're gonna eat a bu—"

"No," Shouta said firmly, cutting Daichi off. "I mean, why are you refusing to speak to me?" Shouta had decided, both for the sake of the conversation as well as for preserving the personal pride of his daughter, to ignore the patent falsity of her claim of refusing to speak. Such was the burden of being a half-decent parent. "Is this my punishment for taking too long to stop by?"

"Wow, great detective skills, papa," Daichi hissed. "How'd you come up with that idea?" Shouta shrugged.

"Call it a father's intuition." Daichi rolled her one good eye. "Daichi, I'm sorry—"

"Save it." Shouta sighed, folding his arms, and leaning back in his chair. He was quiet for a few moments, before leaning forward and meeting Daichi's gaze.

"Well, if you're mad at me now, I can only imagine what you'll be like after I tell you…"

"Tell me what?" Daichi asked. Her heart fluttered nervously; Vi danced about on her back, matching its pace. Her father sighed, feeling defeated.

"I can't take you home…" he replied finally. "Not just yet anyway." Daichi felt as if her body had, quite literally, deflated.

"How come?" Her voice sounded small despite her anger. She flushed ever so slightly upon realizing that she sounded like a sad, pathetic toddler who had just been told that she had to stay home from her parent's date night, instead of like a hero-in-training at one of the most prestigious hero academies in Japan. "Is… Did I do something wrong?" Shouta flinched.

"No!" Daichi was taken aback. For a moment, her father seemed almost wild. It subsided as quickly as it had come, his desperation vanishing in a flash. "No, you haven't done anything wrong. I promise."

"Then, why…?"

"I promise, nothing's wrong," her father responded. Shouta was attempting to offer a calming balm to his daughter, who he knew could only be feeling hurt, rejected, confused… Unfortunately, pathos had never been the strong suit of the Aizawa family, and so he for the most part came off as stilted, his tone and body language awkward and stiff.

Daichi mirrored his movements without knowing it; both of their bodies were now twisted into awkward, stiff contortions that spoke to their ineffectiveness as communicators. Their eyes evaded each other's, looking anywhere but across the table. Daichi spied a fly twisting its small body desperately in what appeared to be an abandoned spider's web. A truly useless death, she thought bitterly, as useless as this conversation. Shouta's mind was more pleasantly occupied, but only marginally so, as he focused on the gentle wobble of a bowl of Jell-O being placed on the table in front of another patient. The easy to-and-fro of the bright green dessert was oddly calming for him to watch. The two of them remained this way for several minutes, refusing to look at each other. Their tenseness seemed to pull the space between them like two hands pulling soba— opposing poles stretching space in opposite directions.

"Just one more day, I promise…" Shouta said at last.

His voice pulled Daichi from her trance, and she pulled her gaze away from the corner of the window where the small bug continued to struggle against an absent foe. He turned to face her, although his body remained hunched and stiff, as if he were afraid of a sudden physical retaliation. Daichi glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, choosing to remain facing in the opposite direction. He looked ridiculous, she thought to herself, giving his twisted body a once-over.

She moved her fingers across her own arms, suddenly coming back to reality and becoming acutely aware of her own ridiculousness, as her body matched her father's contortions. Daichi frowned, grumbling something non-verbal and only partially expressive of a real feeling deep within her throat. Truly, literal Quirks were not the only things inherited from parents, she thought to herself as she untangled her limbs. At last, she turned back towards her father, who still sat hunched over, barely looking at her.

"Why one more day?" Daichi's voice was barely audible. Shouta peeked out at her through his dark hair, which was sprayed across his face as he gazed down at the floor, frowning, deep in thought. "Why one more day?" Daichi repeated, louder this time. Shouta shifted, straightening his back until he almost looked like a person who understood social norms. "You're here now, so why can't you take me home?"

"They want to observe you for just one more night."

"They?" Daichi asked, raising an eyebrow. Shouta grunted but made no further response. Daichi scowled. "Who are 'they,' papa?" Shouta sighed, smacking his palms against his thighs, as though bracing himself. He sighed again. Daichi felt like sighing simply by hearing him sigh: A vicious cycle, she thought, suddenly feeling exhausted. Is there anything more exhausting than communicating with family?

"I guess I should say I, not they," he said at last.

Daichi quietly awaited further information. Her father's eyes were now fixed just above her shoulder. Feeling at first confused, Daichi turned to glance behind her, wondering whether perhaps Shouto and his mother had returned from wherever they had gone off to. It was Vi that met her gaze—eyeless flesh pressed close against Daichi's cheek as she turned, abruptly reminding her that the very idea of "alone time," which Shouto had requested with his own mother, was now, for her, irrevocably changed.

"I would like just a like a bit more time to…" Shouta paused, inhaling sharply as Vi came to rest on Daichi's shoulder. "… to observe you…"

"The two of us, you mean," Daichi muttered darkly.

From her shoulder she could hear Vi chuckling quietly, though she doubted that it was loud enough for her father to hear. Or, perhaps the laughter was really just inside of her own mind, which Vi now inhabited? Without any acknowledgement from her father, but being unable to distinguish between her inner- and the outer-world, Daichi's only recourse was to wager a guess. I'm going to lose my mind, she sighed while pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefingers.

"Please," Shouta said, breaking the silence. "Try and understand my position. Your Quirk… I didn't see this coming,"

"And you think I did?"

"Or me!" Vi chimed in, voice giddy. Shouta shot them an incredulous look but made no reply.

"I'm not suggesting that you knew more than me on this. I'm only explaining my reasoning for keeping you here for so long. I don't have the same capabilities as the hospital does for monitoring… Whatever this is."

Shouta's hand waved limply through the air, weakly gesturing in Vi's direction, apparently at a loss for words when it came to speaking about Vi. Daichi grimaced, sinking more deeply into her chair. Her gaze slid once more towards her shoulder, settling on Vi. In truth, she felt a bit hurt—whether it was because her father appeared to be snubbing her, or was refusing to acknowledge Vi, she could not yet say. Was she hurt on Vi's behalf? Was that the same as feeling hurt for her own sake? Once again, she had no answers, only more questions. Her list of questions was at an exponential rate.

"And?" Shouta raised an eyebrow, inviting an explanation. "And, what have you found out so far?" Shouta's eyebrow remained where it was. "Well, you can't have found out nothing." Daichi choked out, barely containing her frustration. "I've been here for three days. You've been observing me that whole time. Or am I wrong?"

"You're not wrong."

"Well, then," Daichi continued, pressing her arms against her chest roughly. "What can you tell me?"

Shouta was silent for a long while. Daichi, sensing the gravity that the conversation had taken on, chose to wait quietly while her father mulled over whatever was on his mind. At long last he leaned forward, propping his elbows against his knees and folding his hands together in between them.

"It definitely has its own consciousness." Vi was wriggling about excitedly once more. Clearly, they enjoyed being talked about. "From what we can tell, it has its own thoughts, drives, and motives. In that sense, it's not unlike Tokoyomi's Quirk, Dark Shadow."

Daichi's mind quickly returned to the conversation that she and Tokoyomi had had, not long ago. His words rang in her ears, as if he were there in the psych ward with her now. 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.

"But that doesn't explain some things…" Shouta's words ripped Daichi from her recollections, drawing her back into the present.

"Such as…?" Shouta pressed his mouth into a stern line.

"When you sleep, it's as if you… Merge… into something more than the two of you…"

"How delightful," Vi chirped from their place on Daichi's shoulder.

Having a Quirk like Vi was kind of like owning a slightly menacing parrot, which, Daichi realized with dismay, basically made her some kind of cursed, ridiculous, modern-day pirate—only without any knowledge of the open seas. Daichi shuddered and hoped that the reason for her shudder escaped Vi's notice. She suddenly felt acutely aware of some sort of vague, unnamable danger–– drifting in and out of reality, being unable to distinguish between her thoughts and outwardly-directed words, between dreams and the present. Just what was happening to her?

"Have you been having any dreams lately?" Shouta asked suddenly. Daichi felt her heart skip, but she kept her posture calm and undisturbed with considerable effort. "Anything… out of the ordinary?" Daichi's throat felt dry, and she shook her head quickly. Shouta raised his eyebrows, clearly not buying whatever Daichi was selling. "None at all?"

"I-I… I mean, I don't remember," she managed to choke out.

Vi stayed silent, but Daichi wagered that if Vi had had eyes to use, they would be narrowing in her direction, taunting her, telling her: I know you're lying. Fighting her instincts, Daichi strained against the feelings of guilt and fear, meeting her father's gaze directly, trying to seem certain of herself— or, at the very least, of what she was saying.

"Maybe I've had dreams, but I can't remember them," she continued. "When I wake up, I don't remember them." After a moment Shouta nodded solemnly, apparently satisfied with her answer, if not a little disappointed by it.

"That's unfortunate…" he muttered; his tone sounded serious, grave. Daichi was still forcing herself to stare straight into her father's face, even though his eyes were now fixed on the floor, seriously contemplating something, though Daichi did not know what. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shouta withdrew his gaze from the floor, meeting Daichi's gaze once again. "Well, then, I'll go get started on the paperwork."

"Paperwork?"

"You've been in here long enough," he said, sighing, and sounding tired, as usual. "Maybe if we get you home, you'll start to remember your dreams…" Shouta was muttering, giving Daichi the impression that he was speaking more to himself than to her. "Yes… somewhere where you feel comfortable, secure…"

"Papa?" Shouta jolted at the sound of Daichi's voice, snapping back into focus.

"Ah… Sorry…" he muttered. He really did sound very tired.

Daichi got up from her chair, bypassing the table that separated the two of them from each other. Before her father could question or protest, she had cast her arms like a net around his neck, pulling herself close to him. He was warm, solid, but thin; probably, he had not been eating much in her absence. Daichi closed her eye as she nestled closely into her father's neck, choosing to ignore the fact that the two of them rarely hugged, and that they both felt deeply uncomfortable doing so, especially in public.

"Thank you, papa…" she sighed, feeling in her heart and her bones a deep, abiding relief that she could honestly say she had not felt in weeks. A small smile broke out across her face as she felt her father's arms return her hug.

"You're welcome, Daichi," he whispered. "I'm sorry for how long it's been."

Daichi opted to spend the remainder of her time in the psych ward basking in the sunshine by a window in the common area. Somehow, she had not ever managed to get to that particular floor in time for sunset; something else always seemed to have gotten in the way. Being honest with herself, Daichi had to admit that in all likelihood she had spent much of that time pouting, napping, or pouting whilst taking a nap. Her lips pursed at the thought of it–– she would need to make a mental note to not be such a lay about now that her father was taking her home.

The sun was getting low in the sky, casting shadows all around the common room as the sun grew closer to the horizon and less level with the common room windows. From inside, Daichi could tell that the weather was calm, probably warm. Yet, as she gazed across the sparse landscape that surrounded the hospital, she could not help but feel a dim sense of foreboding brewing within her, emanating from deep within her chest. Was it the shadows cast by the light, reminding her of the angular, unpleasant silhouette of Stain in the alleyway? Small gusts of wind caused the tree branches to shift and their leaves to brush up against one another in a way that, Daichi thought, ought to be pleasant, or at least neutral, but instead caused a shiver of apprehension to run up her spine. Leaves, dirt, bark, grass… of all these things, Vi is the master… she found herself thinking.

"What are you staring at?" A deep, familiar voice shot through Daichi's mind like an electric current. She jolted upright, immediately at attention.

"Maybe nothing's wrong at all, Dai-chan!" Vi remarked from her shoulder. "It was just this kid sneaking up on you!" Daichi's breath caught in her throat. So Vi could hear her thoughts? Before she could pursue this question more concretely, Shouto had spoken again.

"It's nice to see that you and my mother get on so well." Daichi raised her eyebrows so high, she was sure that they could no longer be seen on her face.

"What a shocking display of honesty!" she cried, mouth agape. Shouto responded only with a frown. "And from such a mysterious person. I'm shocked!" She was barely able to catch her breath for laughing, giving her voice a light, feminine tone.

"I regret saying anything," Shouto muttered as he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. "Try and pay someone a compliment…"

Daichi stifled her last laugh, forcing her giddiness back into the pit of her stomach, where it belonged. She sighed airily, wiping her cheeks; tears had begun to streak down her face as she laughed, but she found that there was something oddly comforting in this–– it felt like relief.

"Sorry, sorry," she hummed, waving her hands apologetically. "It just took me off guard. I like Rei—your mom… I like your mom a lot," she finished lamely, suddenly finding herself at a loss for words. Shouto simply grunted in response, apparently now lost in his own thoughts as he stared out of the windows. Daichi felt herself shrug; she supposed that everyone needed a moment to appreciate a psych ward sunset, on the rare occasion that they got to see one.

"So," Shouto said at last. "Your dad's taking you home?" Daichi nodded enthusiastically. "It'll be good…" Shouto murmured. Daichi made a puzzled expression, to which Shouto rolled his eyes, cheeks slightly pink with embarrassment. "To have you back." His eyes were fixed firmly on the ceiling above Daichi. "It'll be good to have you back, I mean. Obviously. Don't be so obtuse,"

"I am my father's daughter!" Daichi sang. Vi was buzzing around and around behind her back, apparently very much enjoying bearing witness to the conversation. "We Aizawas, you know, we aren't too good with the social cues,"

"Believe me, we've noticed."

"We?"

"What, you don't think your classmates are so quick to forget you, do you?" Shouto scolded, to which Daichi could not help but laugh. "Ochaco and Izuku told me to say hello, but you can do that yourself, since you'll be coming back soon." Daichi made a sound in the back of her throat, indicating affirmation and agreement. The two of them lapsed back into silence.

"It'll be weird, don't you think?" Daichi said finally. Shouto shot her a questioning look; she sighed. "To just go back to school and start studying for finals, after everything that's happened…?" Shouto grunted. "All of that feels so small, now."

"Because of Stain?" Shouto asked. "He's been dealt with—"

"Because of what happened because of Stain," Daichi interjected. Her voice was strained, she could feel her heartbeat in her throat. Vi was dangling themselves at an angle, far away from Daichi, looking apprehensive. "Because of what Stain represents…"

"What he represents…" Shouto repeated softly. "And just what does he represent?" Daichi emitted a terse sound from between her teeth in reply. "Enlighten me."

"The hypocrisy of heroes, Shouto," Daichi murmured. Her gaze had returned to the setting sun and the shifting sands of the sparse hospital landscaping. "Why do we do what we do?"

"To help people,"

"To help people." It was now Daichi's turn to play parrot, although she had added a sarcastic edge to her repetition of Shouto's words.

"You say that like you don't believe it." Shouto was no longer looking at the sunset, as he had now fixed his eyes on Daichi. She was refusing to look in his direction, which was causing a tense ball to form in the pit of his stomach, one that he did not quite comprehend the meaning of just then. "Daichi, look at me." Daichi made no movement, only continued to stare out at the reddening evening sun. "Heroes are there to help people. We—"

"I wish you wouldn't waste my time with words you don't even mean."

Daichi was looking at him, now. Shouto had expected to find a glare on her face, or some similarly chiding expression that he had come to expect from the daughter of Eraserhead. The expression that faced him now, though, seemed closer to the face of a child who had lost their parent in the middle of a shopping mall. Daichi seemed adrift, cut loose, her strength and energy seeping out of her like a body that had suffered too deep a cut. The sight of it made Shout's words stick to the walls of his throat, which was now dry, caked with the same loss and confusion that gazed out at him from Daichi's face. It struck him that her face looked remarkably haggard for a girl of her age—and girl of their age, in fact. A single blue eye, tearless and unapologetic, stared at him unblinkingly in the shadows cast by the dimming sun. The slight discoloration that surrounded her eyepatch reminded him of his own face, marred by family shame.

"I believe them," he said at last. Daichi made no response. "So do your friends. And so do you." Daichi let a sinister hiss escape from between her teeth; Shouto guessed that it was meant to be a laugh, albeit one steeped in bitterness and resentment. "What's with this sudden personality swap?" Shouto asked darkly. "One guy with a martyr complex is all it takes for you to abandon your principles? You're better than that, I know you are."

"You certainly aren't," Daichi bit back.

She had averted her eyes again and was now glowering out the window. She was not sure what was coming over her—she wanted to yell, to scream, to bite, to fight, to be fought, to be beat down. It was wrong for her to be here, to be a hero; this feeling had dawned upon her suddenly but as clear as daylight when Shouto had begun speaking of going back to school. Her mind returned to the fly, buzzing desperately in the corner of the window, caught in an abandoned web. Nothing to fight, nowhere to go, pointless.

"What does it mean?" she continued. Shouto waited for her to elaborate. "To be a hero. What are we in the world? Or… is it for the world? To the world…" Daichi was unsure whether she was speaking more to herself or to Shouto, but she had ceased to care. Vi loomed silently directly behind Daichi's head, taking in the conversation, basking in the hostility of it all.

"To protect those who can't protect themselves," Shouto replied. "To inspire others—"

"Don't steal Izuku's foundations for heroism." Daichi cut in. "Your foundations aren't nearly so pure. 'I'll surpass you,' isn't that what you told your old man before your fight with Izuku?" Shouto let out a strangled sound, as though he meant to say something, but no words came. "Those aren't the words of a hero. Those are the words of a little boy."

"Daichi, stop—"

"And you keep doing this," Daichi hissed. Where this anger had come from, she was not sure. But it wrapped around her heart now like a snake squeezing the life from a mouse. "The way you look at me now, those aren't the eyes of someone who sees the world for what it is. They're the eyes of someone who wishes the world to bend according to his desires."

"How I… Sorry, how I look at you?"

"I can tell you're disgusted?"

"What's supposed to disgust me, exactly?" Shouto replied, the frustration in his tone now becoming starkly evident. Daichi rolled her eye, jerking her thumb back in the direction of Vi. Shouto had to work to keep his emotions in check, forcing the anger that threatened to spill from his lips back deep inside of him. "Are you serious?"

"Don't deny it," Daichi whispered. "I can tell."

"Let's say it's true," Shouto began. He leaned his back against the windows, crossing his arms over his chest. With the hand that faced away from Daichi, Shouto dug his fingernails deep into his arm, willing himself to stay calm. "Let's say that I'm disgusted. Tell me, what does this have to do with my heroism? What does that have to do with heroes at all?"

"It's all bound up together, isn't it?" Daichi muttered. "Our perception of Quirks and what they mean are bound up with the stark divisions we've made between heroes and villains, heroes and civilians…" Shouto kept silent, wanting to let her let out all of her resentment; it was clear that she needed to air out her dirty laundry, and he was willing to be the one to help her hang it up. "Don't tell me you think it's an accident? That most of our heroes have flashy, fun Quirks like yours or Bakugo's, and all the villains have ones that are sinister, ugly, and unwanted."

Shouto sighed, staring down at his shoes as he mulled over Daichi's words. He knew that there was truth to what she was saying. It was not as though the thought of it had never crossed his mind. Even if it had never come up for him all on his own, simply by being at U.A., around people like Shinso or Neito, these questions were brought up all of the time by other's too often to ignore. Superficially, he felt justified in his convictions: to be a hero meant to protect people; it meant that you had the stamina, the will, and the commitment to see that kind of project through to the end, even if it meant that you may die.

Lurking beneath the surface, though, were tangles of contradictions and ambiguities that, truth be told, Shouto often chose to ignore. What gave him the right over others to be a hero, to get paid to save the lives of others? Why could he be trained to do so while others had to sit on the sidelines and wait to be saved? And did his issues with his father—his own, admittedly selfish, motivations for pursuing heroism do anything to damage his commitments and convictions? In other words, was it possible to have a pure desire to save others—or would it always harbor some kind of selfish underbelly?

"It's unreasonable to expect everyone to put their life on the line for others," Shouto said at last. "It's even unreasonable to expect for them to put their life on the line for themselves. You need people who have the wherewithal to do that kind of work—we need heroes because not everyone shares the commitment necessary to become one."

"And, what, our Quirks are just so special that—"

"It isn't our Quirks that make us heroes," Shouto pressed, interrupting Daichi mid-sentence, her words dying on her tongue before they could make it out into the open air. "It's our commitments, our hearts," he continued. He could tell that Daichi was faltering because she was now having serious trouble meeting his gaze. She was refusing to look at him in the eyes, although Vi was now fixated entirely on him—or, he was pretty sure they were, at least. It was difficult to tell what they were looking at, what with them not having any eyes. "Our Quirks are just an extra boost, a bonus. In a world full of Quirks, everyone has the raw materials to do heroic things—things we used to only read about in comics and stories. But it takes more than that. You have that something more. So do I, so do our classmates."

By then, the light had grown very low in the common area. In the low light, the dark circles under Daichi's eyes were somehow more apparent, noticeable; it looked as if she had not slept in days, or at the very least she had not slept well. Shouto felt his defensiveness dissipate, despite his frustration. His mind drifted to his mother—the whistle of the tea kettle, the sting of hot water. People had a tendency to lash out when they felt empty, when they felt that they were no longer of any use, when they felt that they had no control. In that moment, Shouto felt that he understood this fact better than anyone.

"None of them deserve your scorn, least of all you."

In the now very dim evening light, Shouto could barely make out the sheen of tears in Daichi's single good eye. Shouto decided to say nothing, to pretend that the light was too low for him to notice that she was crying. It had become rather obvious by then, since her lips were quivering; if Shouto held his breath, he could hear a defeated warble gesticulating from within her throat from Daichi holding back her sobs. Dealing with these kinds of emotions and such emotionally charged situations had never been Shouto's strong suit. Yet, in the wake of his fight with Izuku, he could feel that beginning to change; he felt less apprehensive of taking on the burdens of others, because, thanks to Izuku, he no longer felt apprehensive about confronting his own burdens.

Daichi flinched when she felt something warm press against her. Shouto had slid his body into the lounge chair that she had been sitting in, which faced the window to overlook the grounds that surrounded the hospital. She refused to look in Shouto's direction, even as she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her head towards his chest. She strongly felt that she could not look at him, or she might completely loose her mind. A small tingle ran down her spine, starting from the top of her head; Shouto was now stroking her head, running the tips of his fingers through her short orange hair, grazing her scalp in a way that was both comforting and exciting. Although, Daichi felt that the excitement was rather inappropriate, given the circumstances.

The two of them stayed silent as the sun, now nearly below the horizon, continued to set. In a remarkable show of maturity, Vi had also chosen to stay silent. They had seated themselves below the chair, stretching themselves far away from the top of the chair where, just below, Shouto and Daichi sat entangled with one another in a deep, comforting silence. Shouto stared out across the grounds, watching the tree that Daichi had been staring at for most of their conversation. For her part, Daichi quickly found herself drifting off to sleep, the warmth from Shouto's arms and the encroaching shadows of late evening calming her nerves.

That calm, however, was short-lived. The feeling of security that had washed over her seemed to be replaced almost immediately with a sharp, numbing buzz that skittered across her nerve endings like a stone skipping across the water. Tap, slap, tap, zap–– her mind seemed to splutter, trying to attach some kind of meaning to the sudden physical discomfort that she was experiencing.

There was no air. Daichi could feel her body bobbing gently, suspended in a tepid liquid, the origin of which she could not presently identify. She could feel her head twisting about at the top of her neck, as if she were trying to look around, seeking visual cues to ascertain her location, to understand her situation—but she saw none. Are my eyes even open? she thought to herself desperately. Being submerged in this mysterious ooze, Daichi could at the very least understand that her senses were not quite up to par. The raw, physical data that her sensory organs were meant to process was there, but the processors themselves were shot—it was if they had been scrambled all about to different parts of her body, so many toy building blocks strewn across the floor of a child's playroom.

"I'm very encouraged, very much encouraged!"

A shrill voice broke through her cloud of desperation. The voice sounded giddy, elated, like a child who had just won a prize in a contest. Overwhelmingly, Daichi got the sense of being the plaything of some invisible, or at least unidentifiable, child. Where was she? Who was she? And who was doing the speaking? She continued to twist her neck about, searching desperately for some kind of clue. That's when she realized that her eyes were closed; perhaps, she did not even have any eyes. Was this the explanation for the sudden onset of sensory confusion? Daichi stopped twisting, settling down as she tried to focus her energy on listening to the unidentified speaker.

"Her vitals are picking up. She's grown quite considerably over the last month or so," the voice continued. "She should have eyes soon, if she doesn't have them already." She felt her heart flutter. So she had no eyes?

Another sound, a dull thump like a rubber ball hitting against tile. A shoe? Something shuffled—paper, perhaps—and another sound of rubber against tile. She tried honing her concentration, but doing so made her feel dizzy, as though she were spinning around in one of those teacups at an amusement park. She could at the very least tell this much: the mystery speaker was not alone.

"Excellent."

This voice was different: deep, confident, foreboding. If the other voice had not sounded so overjoyed, she would have assumed that the owner of this voice was poking fun at the owner of the first voice. The tone was not disrespectful so much as it was uncaring; everything about the sound of this voice communicated, You're beneath me.

"Your hard work has really paid off, Ga…k…"

Without warning she felt her breathing start to become shallower. She was suddenly, painfully aware that she wanted to breathe air, but instead she was surrounded by fluid. She began to panic, swiping at her surroundings with her fingers desperately. Was there a way to pull herself out of the liquid? She couldn't feel anything. A sting, a blink, a jolt—her surroundings were completely unclear. And yet, she could now see her surroundings. Purple: bright, amniotic, hollow. It felt as though the purplish fluid extended around her for miles—or, perhaps it was simply that her eyes needed more time to adjust. A large air bubble escaped her mouth, rising up in front of her fresh, new eyes. Her gaze followed it up, up, up, until she saw it. She paused, staring up above her at what looked like a flat, silver tray. Metal? Yes and no: a door.

"My, my!" An eager voice cut through her inner panic, drawing her attention back down from the door above her until her gaze came to rest directly across from her. She couldn't quite make out the face, yet she was sure that someone was staring at her through the purple, pillowy ooze. "What a surprise… It's early, still! She's quite strong…"

"Excellent."

It was that same, Godlike voice from before, but she couldn't see where it was coming from. She heard a noise to her left. When she turned, her eyes were met with the flattened finger pads of someone who she could not see. The fingers were pressed against something—glass, surrounding her from all sides. That was when it dawned on her, that she was a creature on display in a tank, a fish in a bowl, with nowhere to go. She felt her body jitter. With excitement or fear, she didn't know. The hand pressed more firmly into the glass, begging for her to reach for it, while at the same time the malevolence of the energy of the body to which it belonged told her to run away.

"It's encouraging to see your eyes, at last," the voice continued.

In spite of her misgivings, she felt her left hand move. This was in itself encouraging, because it told her that she did in fact have hands. She moved it slowly through the liquid, which felt heavy, slowing her movements, like when you try to run in a dream. Her eyes, whose sight was still blurry from lack of use, nevertheless was able to follow the arc of her hand as it made its way towards the fingertips that remained pressed against the glass. She flexed her fingers, reaching more desperately forward, closing the distance between her hand and the stranger's fingers.

"To see your eyes open…" the voice said. Her fingertips were centimeters from the glass. "Welcome, my—"

"Daichi!"

Daichi could not help but screech, jolting out of her sleep in a flash. She had woken with such a start that she had nearly fallen out of the chair that she had dozed off in. All the stood between her and the cold, hospital floor were the arms of her father, whose concerned face now loomed above hers, illuminated by the sparse nighttime lighting of the common area. Daichi gulped in the air around her, recalling her dream, feeling comforted by the ease with which she was now able to use her lungs and sight. She glanced around wildly, looking for signs of Shouto's presence, but it seemed that he had gone. Something cool pressed against her face, and she suddenly realized that her father was not alone. Todoroki Rei stood behind him, a look of concern marring her features. It was her hand that was pressed against Daichi's face, now, the chill of her Quirk calming Daichi's nerves.

"Daichi, Daichi, calm down…" Rei murmured from behind her father. Shouta scooped Daichi up quickly into his arms. "Dreaming again?" Rei asked. Daichi wagered that her casual tone was meant to not give anything away to her father, who knew nothing of the dreams that she had been having. Not yet, anyway.

"Yeah…" Daichi responded warily. She lifted her hand to her face, wiping away some sweat that still resided there. Vi was twirling, snakelike, around Shouta and Daichi, looping her body repeatedly around them. "Sorry, I guess I… dozed off…"

"That's alright," Shouta murmured. He gave Rei a reassuring nod. "Thank you, for your help. And…" he trailed off for a moment, his speech faltering. Rei gave him a small smile. "For keeping up with Daichi in here… I thank you for that, as well," he said at last. Rei laughed; it was a small, delicate laugh. Very proper, like everything she did. Daichi felt her heart sink a bit, realizing that she would not see Rei again for a long while.

"It was my pleasure," she replied softly. "She has many good qualities… She reminds me so much of her mother…" Shouta stiffened at this, but made no reply. Rei's blue eyes met with Daichi's. She felt that Rei was trying to tell her something, but she couldn't discern what it was. Through her dream-addled brain and the shock of her sudden awakening, very little was making sense. "But, she is her father's daughter, too." Rei continued. Daichi felt her father hesitate. His eyes met Rei's, who was now no longer looking at Daichi, but only at Shouta. "You've raised her very well. I understand your worries… but you needn't worry about such things."

"Ah… Thank you, Rei," Shouta muttered, clearly thrown off by her words.

Shouta adjusted Daichi's position in his arms. He leaned down to pick up Daichi's overnight bag, which had been all packed up—with Rei's assistance—and swung it up into Vi's open mouth. "What do you know, this thing is pretty handy," he mused. He gave Rei a curt but appreciative nod, and turned to leave. Daichi watched Rei sullenly over his shoulder as they walked towards the doors of the common room. Rei waved softly, and Daichi waved back. As Daichi watched Todoroki Rei grow smaller and smaller, her words from earlier in the day danced across her mind. She felt herself grow tired again, with her chin squashed against her father's shoulder like a small child being taken in from the car after a long trip. Daichi could feel herself slipping back into unconsciousness, her grip on waking life seeming to diminish that farther away Rei drifted.

Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.