Yuka and Kai had agreed to discuss Eri later that night, but when Yuka woke up the next morning, she found herself alone in the room. The early morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a muted glow on the empty space beside her. The absence of Kai's presence left a hollow feeling in her chest, a gnawing void of uncertainty and unease. She searched the room, her gaze darting from corner to corner, but he was nowhere to be found. Had he returned after leaving to deal with Eri the previous night? The question lingered in her mind, unresolved and troubling.
As she rose from the bed, the cool air brushed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Her eyes fell upon a neatly folded set of clothes near the entrance, and she approached them with cautious curiosity. The neatly arranged garments answered her question: someone had entered while she slept. Whether it was Overhaul or someone else, the thought made her uneasy, and she quickly dismissed it, unwilling to dwell on the discomforting notion of being watched.
The clothes seemed oddly familiar, a ghost from her past. She lifted the fabric with delicate fingers, and recognition dawned on her. It was one of her old dresses, a relic from years ago when things were simpler and her world less fractured. Had Kai kept all her old clothes? The realization stirred a complex mix of emotions within her—nostalgia, confusion, and a touch of sentimentality. The black, long-sleeved turtleneck dress looked the same as ever, its fabric soft and well-preserved. She wondered if it would still fit her, if it could still wrap around her as seamlessly as it once did.
She slipped the dress over her head, feeling the fabric glide smoothly over her skin. It hugged her figure even better than before, accentuating her curves and making her feel oddly grounded in the midst of her turmoil. After donning her mask, the familiar weight and presence of it providing a semblance of comfort, she cautiously opened the door, peering around the corner to ensure no one saw her leaving Overhaul's room. The dimly lit hallway stretched out before her, silent and still. Confident that the coast was clear, she slipped out and closed the door behind her with a soft click.
Uncertainty gnawed at her as she stood in the deserted hallway, the weight of the underground base pressing down on her. She needed to find someone who could take her to Kai's location; waiting idly in his room wasn't an option. As she turned the corner, she hoped to encounter one of Kai's men, but the area seemed abandoned, each step echoing in the silence. She sighed in frustration, the sound echoing softly around her. Despite her time there, the base's layout remained a confusing maze, mostly because she had been confined to her room.
However, she had a faint memory of where Overhaul's office was, a mental map pieced together from her limited explorations. Deciding to rely on that memory, she headed in what she hoped was the right direction. The intricate underground hallways twisted and turned, each corridor blending into the next. She kept her eyes peeled for any sign of life, her senses alert to the slightest movement or sound. The air felt thick with tension, each step a reminder of the delicate balance she had to maintain in this perilous environment.
"Hey, you!"
A sudden voice startled her from behind, causing her to jump. Before she could turn around, she was forcefully shoved against the wall, her head hitting the cold surface with a dull thud. Disoriented, she blinked rapidly, trying to regain her bearings. The world around her spun for a moment before she managed to focus on the large figure looming menacingly over her. His strong hand clamped onto her shoulder like a vice, pinning her in place. Despite the vulnerable position, she narrowed her eyes at the hulking form in front of her, anger and determination simmering beneath her calm facade.
"Rappa…" she growled, recognizing the brute who had made a name for himself with his brutal strength and unrelenting aggression.
"Ah, so you do know who I am? Good," he chuckled sarcastically, his voice dripping with malice. "That means you know exactly who's gonna pummel you into the ground."
Yuka arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Here to take a shot at me, then?" she scoffed, her voice steady despite the throbbing pain in her shoulder. "I wouldn't recommend it."
His grip tightened, sending a sharp jolt of pain through her shoulder. She gritted her teeth, her face contorting slightly from the agony. The cold, unforgiving wall behind her seemed to press harder against her back, amplifying her discomfort.
"You mocking me?!" he yelled, his voice echoing down the hallway like a thunderclap. "I could snap you like a twig!"
The pressure on her shoulder increased, each heartbeat sending waves of pain radiating through her body. She feared it might shatter under his relentless strength. Despite the pain, she managed to speak through clenched teeth, her voice laced with a dangerous edge.
"Last warning," she hissed, her eyes locked onto his with unwavering resolve. "Back off."
"Or what?!" he bellowed, his laugh a booming roar that reverberated through the narrow corridor. "You're gonna blow toxic air in my face? I'll crush you before you even get a chance to breathe!"
Yuka's eyes never left his as he continued to press her into the wall, his hulking frame casting a long shadow over her. The closer he got, the more force he applied, causing her to wince, but she maintained her composure. His face was now inches from hers, his hot breath fanning across her skin and mingling with the cold, stale air of the underground base. Her dark gray eyes began to shift, their color subtly changing as she prepared to unleash her Quirk.
Despite the titanic grip crushing her shoulder, she remained unyielding, a dangerous glint flickering in her eyes. She could feel the chemical reactions within her lungs readying themselves, the familiar tingle of power coursing through her veins. She knew that in a battle of brute strength, she stood no chance against Rappa, but she had other weapons at her disposal—ones that could turn the tide in her favor in an instant.
But before Yuka could unleash her retaliation on Rappa, a familiar voice reverberated down the dimly lit corridor.
"Let her go, Rappa."
The commanding baritone of Overhaul sliced through the tension like a blade. Rappa, towering and brawny, released Yuka with visible reluctance. He pivoted to face his master, meeting Overhaul's steely gaze with defiance, while Chrono, his features concealed behind a mask, stood silently by his side, adding an air of enigmatic authority to the scene.
"Are you just going to stand there and ignore Master Overhaul's orders?" Yuka goaded him, as she motioned towards the shoulder he still had pinned down.
Rappa grunted, his frustration palpable, and shoved Yuka against the cold, concrete wall. She winced, feeling the residual ache shoot through her shoulder as she rotated it to ease the pain. Tracing her fingers over the deep imprint Rappa had left in the wall behind her, she couldn't help but marvel at his sheer strength.
"I instructed you to reserve your fury for our foes, Rappa," admonished Overhaul, his voice low but firm.
"And I never imagined you'd welcome such a diminutive weakling into our ranks, so I guess we're both disappointed," Rappa shot back, his disdain for Yuka evident in his gravelly voice.
"I'll show you who's weak…" Yuka muttered darkly, her stormy gray eyes narrowing with determination.
Rappa snapped his head towards her, fists clenched, and advanced menacingly.
"What did you say to me, bitch?!" he bellowed, his face contorting with anger as he raised a threatening fist.
Overhaul's features hardened into a mask of disapproval as he glared at both combatants.
"Enough! I'll have no more of this childish bickering. Report to Tengai and await further instructions. That's an order…" His voice brooked no argument, carrying the weight of command.
Rappa hesitated, visibly torn between his desire to defy and the daunting presence of his master. With a frustrated grunt, he relented, turning sharply on his heel and storming away down the corridor, presumably heading towards Tengai.
Yuka exhaled slowly, relief washing over her as Rappa disappeared around the corner. She straightened her posture and approached Overhaul and Chrono with measured steps, her expression composed yet guarded, uncertain of what the next moment in their intricate dance of power would bring.
"I had the situation under control…" she declared in a low voice, her words tinged with a hint of defiance.
"Clearly…" Kurono scoffed, his face conveying disdain beneath his mask. Yuka shot him a dirty look, her eyes narrowing over the edge of her mask, silently challenging his arrogance.
Overhaul sighed audibly, his cold gaze shifting between Yuka and her injured shoulder. "I'd rather not have to clean up after anyone. I know you're more than capable of holding your own, but you'd do well not to provoke my men, Shinigami."
She winced slightly behind her mask at the use of her old alias, a reminder of a past she had so desperately tried to distance herself from. "He's the one who attacked me, unprovoked," she defended herself with restrained frustration. "But you're right. I'll try to stay clear of them if I can…"
Releasing a prolonged sigh, she shook off the discomfort lingering in her shoulder. She knew bruises would likely surface by morning from Rappa's tight grip, but she refused to show weakness.
"Good," Overhaul replied, his tone firm yet not unkind, acknowledging her resilience. His gaze softened briefly before returning to its usual steely demeanor. "Now, remind me why you were here in the first place?"
"I was…" She hesitated for a moment, catching his glance towards her shoulder, before regaining her composure. "I was actually coming to find you, to ask if you needed me for anything."
She realized too late the implications of her words, her cheeks warming beneath the mask. Yet, she maintained her poise, refusing to let her embarrassment show.
"I'm currently waiting on a few results before we initiate the next phase of our plan," he explained cryptically, his voice betraying nothing of the plan's complexity. "Right now, I was on my way to see the old man."
Yuka's eyes widened in surprise, a mix of curiosity and respect crossing her features briefly before she composed herself, glancing briefly at the ground before meeting his gaze shyly.
"I won't keep you then," she said respectfully, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgment before stepping aside.
She noticed Overhaul begin to move forward, his measured steps echoing faintly in the corridor. "You're welcome to join, if you wish. I know it's been a while since you last saw him…"
She glanced up at him tentatively, watching as he and Chrono walked on slowly, their presence commanding respect and authority. She hurried to match his pace, falling into step beside him.
"I'm grateful for the opportunity," she murmured sincerely, her voice carrying a hint of earnestness amidst the layers of intrigue that surrounded them.
Yuka kept pace beside them, her posture straight and determined, a silent testament to her loyalty and readiness. As they navigated through the compound, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling of Kurono's disapproval. His repeated glances in her direction spoke volumes, silently questioning Overhaul's decisions without uttering a word. Despite sensing his discontent, Yuka chose to heed Overhaul's earlier warning against provoking his henchmen, maintaining a composed facade as they walked in silence through the dimly lit corridors.
After a brief stroll, the trio came to a stop before an unassuming door that Yuka had never noticed in her previous wanderings. Kurono moved forward, his movements precise and methodical, unlocking the door with a practiced ease that suggested familiarity. With a subtle nod, he allowed Overhaul to enter first, his figure exuding a commanding presence that demanded respect. Yuka followed suit, catching Kurono's masked gaze for a fleeting moment before he gestured for her to join them inside.
"Close the door behind us, Chrono," Overhaul's voice rang out, low yet authoritative as he glanced over his shoulder. "And wait for us outside."
Yuka entered the room quietly, immediately struck by its stark emptiness. The clinical white walls and sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, contrasting sharply with the dark, brooding atmosphere of the underground base. Apart from the solitary hospital bed positioned in the center, surrounded by medical monitors and equipment humming softly, there was little else to be seen. The room seemed almost suspended in time, isolated from the chaotic world beyond its walls.
She approached the bed cautiously, her footsteps muffled against the polished floor. On the bed lay Kai's adoptive father, his features softened in sleep beneath the faint glow of overhead lights. A breathing mask covered his face, rising and falling rhythmically with each quiet breath. His presence in the room felt fragile, a stark contrast to the powerful figure he once embodied within the Shie Hassaikai.
As Kai and Yuka positioned themselves on opposite sides of the bed, Yuka's thoughts drifted to her limited interactions with the leader of the Shie Hassaikai. Her father, a respected officer under his command, had always spoken highly of him. It was his favor that had paved Yuka's path into the Shie Hassaikai, despite being a woman. Seeing him now, vulnerable and bedridden, stirred a mix of emotions within her—a sense of reverence mingled with a deep-seated concern for his well-being.
She glanced briefly at Overhaul, standing stoically beside the bed, his usual composure betraying little of the emotions that surely churned beneath the surface. Yuka wondered what thoughts lay behind his inscrutable mask, how he truly felt about the man who had been both mentor and father figure to him.
"How long has he been like this?" Yuka asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with sympathy and a hint of sorrow.
"A little over 6 years..." Kai answered gravely, his voice tinged with the weight of years spent in silent vigil over his father. His eyes, normally sharp and calculating, now held a distant sadness that spoke volumes about the burden he carried.
Yuka let out a heavy sigh, her eyes squeezing shut briefly as she absorbed the news. If his words were true, then his father had slipped into a coma shortly after she had parted ways with him. Memories of her time in the Shie Hassaikai flashed through her mind, intertwining with the somber reality of the present.
"I'm so sorry, Kai," she murmured softly, her words a whispered apology that echoed in the quiet room, heavy with the weight of unspoken regrets.
Overhaul stood in silence, his gaze fixed upon his father lying motionless before him, the rhythmic hum of medical equipment the only sound in the otherwise still room. With his hands tucked behind his back, he loomed over the bedside like a silent sentinel, lost in contemplation. His emotions were inscrutable, hidden behind a mask of stoicism that Yuka knew all too well.
A palpable tension settled over the room, the air thick with unspoken words and shared history. Yuka's gaze flickered towards the serene expression on Overhaul's father's face. His features, now relaxed in slumber, bore traces of authority and wisdom, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had engulfed the Shie Hassaikai in recent years.
She lingered on him for a moment, unsure of how to break the awkward silence that enveloped them all. The weight of the past hung heavy in the air, mingling with the uncertain future that awaited them in the world of villains and heroes.
"What happened to him?" Yuka finally asked, her voice cutting through the heavy silence that draped over the sterile hospital room like a suffocating blanket.
Overhaul shifted uncomfortably in response to her question, a fleeting look of unease crossing his otherwise stoic expression. He let out a slow, deliberate sigh, the sound reverberating softly against the clinical walls.
"Nobody knows," he answered evenly, his tone betraying a hint of restrained emotion. "He was with us one moment, overseeing affairs as he always did. Then he retired to his office. Hours later, I found him lying on the ground beside his desk..."
Yuka glanced up at Kai, her gaze filled with sympathy and a deep-seated concern for his pain. She could only imagine the anguish he must have felt upon discovering his father.
"Did the doctors find anything afterwards?" she pressed gently, her voice soft yet insistent.
Kai's discomfort grew palpable under her questioning, his unease manifesting in subtle shifts of his posture and guarded gestures. A flicker of irritation momentarily crossed his features before he composed himself.
"They couldn't provide a clear diagnosis," he replied tersely, his frustration evident in the tightness of his voice. "The prevailing theory is that he experienced a stroke while he was alone in his office."
Yuka furrowed her brow, her mind racing to grasp the implications. "Wouldn't there have been signs of a stroke?" she asked, her concern tinged with confusion and a genuine desire to understand.
Overhaul's piercing glare cut through the air, his stance rigid and commanding as he stood beside his father's bedside. His voice, when he spoke again, carried a chilly edge that hinted at depths of emotion he preferred not to reveal.
"As I mentioned," he responded coldly, his words measured and deliberate, "they couldn't provide a conclusive diagnosis..."
His tone made it clear that the topic was not up for further discussion. Yuka sensed the unspoken tension in the room and averted her eyes, realizing it wouldn't be wise to press him further about his father's condition. The weight of unspoken truths hung heavy in the air, leaving them all to grapple with their own thoughts and emotions in the quietude of his father's room.
"Well, he appears to be holding up decently, given the circumstances," Yuka commented softly, her voice a gentle murmur as she tenderly placed her hand on the old man's forehead, smoothing out a few stray gray hairs. Her gaze shifted to the monitors displaying his vital signs. "His vital signs are stable, and there are signs of brain activity. There's a chance he might recover..."
Kai's eye twitched with a mix of anger and discomfort at her touch on his father's brow. "Don't touch him," he interjected sharply, his tone cutting through the quiet hum of the medical equipment.
Yuka's hand recoiled instinctively, withdrawing as if burned, her expression apologetic. Stepping back from the bedside, she clasped her hands together, bowing her head in deference.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" Her voice faltered, fear tightening her throat.
She felt Overhaul's piercing gaze bore into her, his disapproval palpable in the air between them. It dawned on her then, the realization striking like a blow, that she had forgotten to wear gloves after leaving Overhaul's room earlier. His well-known mysophobia likely fueled his displeasure; he was undoubtedly concerned about any potential contamination from her bare hands touching his father. She chastised herself inwardly for the oversight, knowing full well his severe aversion to germs.
Avoiding his gaze, she kept her eyes fixed on her uncovered hands, unsure of what to do next. The last thing she wanted was to provoke further anger from Overhaul with ill-chosen words. Nervously biting her lip, she stole a glance toward Kai's father, seeking solace in the silent figure lying before them, oblivious to their turmoil.
After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, it was Overhaul who finally broke the oppressive quiet that had settled over the room.
"I need to talk to you about something," he stated plainly, his voice cutting through the heaviness in the air as he moved purposefully toward the foot of the bed.
Yuka mirrored his movement, joining him by the end of the bed. The air around them felt charged with unspoken tension, each word from Overhaul carrying weighty implications. She swallowed nervously, steeling herself for the conversation ahead, hoping to navigate it without further straining their already delicate dynamic.
"It's about Eri," he continued, his discomfort evident at the mention of his daughter's name.
Yuka's unease deepened. The revelation of Eri's existence had been a shock, and the realization that Overhaul had kept the nature of their relationship from her all this time weighed heavily on her mind. Yet, she couldn't deny the unfairness of faulting him for this; after all, she had made the choice to leave him.
"I understand it must have been a shock to discover she is my daughter," Overhaul continued. "But I need your help. Recently, she's become... difficult to manage. With everything else demanding my attention, I find myself unable to provide the care she needs. My men have been either too rough or simply incapable of handling her. She's withdrawn, defiant, and I need someone reliable to ensure she's properly cared for while I focus on the final phases of my plan."
Yuka's eyes widened in disbelief at his request. The notion of nurturing someone, particularly a child, felt completely foreign to her. She had never viewed herself as maternal, making Overhaul's plea unexpected. Moreover, the fact that she had no experience in caring for children made the request even more startling.
As she processed his words, a flurry of conflicting emotions swept through her. Guilt nagged at her for leaving Kai and the life they might have had together, mingling with apprehension about taking on such a responsibility.
"You're asking me to look after Eri?" Yuka echoed his request, her voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and uncertainty, as if she needed to hear it again to truly believe it.
Overhaul gave her a subtle nod in response. "I'd feel much better knowing she was in your care. And who knows? Perhaps a woman's touch is just what she needs."
His amber eyes seemed to smile warmly at her from behind his mask, a rare display of genuine emotion that caught Yuka off guard. She stared at him incredulously for a moment, trying to process the weight of his words.
"I... I don't..." she stammered, her words faltering in the face of this unexpected responsibility. "Are you sure? I've never looked after a child before, and... she's your daughter. Wouldn't you prefer someone else, someone more experienced and trusted?"
Overhaul chuckled softly, stepping closer to Yuka and gently brushing his gloved finger over her cheekbone in a tender gesture.
"There's no one I trust more than you for this, right now," he affirmed quietly, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability. Yuka felt a shiver of warmth spread through her as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek gently. The weight of his words sank deep into her heart, stirring emotions she hadn't dared acknowledge for years.
"Besides, it would mean a great deal to me if we could start to build something like a family, once all of this is behind us."
Yuka's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Ever since she had walked away from the Shie Hassaikai, thoughts of having a family had become nothing more than a distant dream. Even during her time with the organization, the notion of starting a family felt remote at best. But now, with Kai revealing he had a daughter of his own, she couldn't shake the feeling of having missed out on a significant part of his life.
Now that they were reunited, he seemed ready to share that part with her. It felt almost surreal, like a dream too good to be true. The soft touch of his fingers against her cheek sent a shiver down her spine, and she found herself yearning for more.
"If you're absolutely sure," she managed to reply, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes locked on his.
Kai sensed her uncertainty but remained steadfast, drawing closer to her. His fingers hooked over his mask, pulling it down to reveal his face fully. A fresh wave of color rushed to Yuka's cheeks as her eyes fluttered open to find Kai's face now revealed before her. Her breath caught at the sight of him, the intensity in his eyes stirring a tumult of emotions within her.
"I trust you'll do your utmost, my Angel…" His words were accompanied by a tender kiss on her forehead, a gesture that both comforted and unsettled her.
She watched as he replaced his mask, a pang of longing sweeping over her as she found herself wishing he hadn't covered his face again. Her desire to kiss him was strong, but she knew she needed to exercise restraint for the time being, unsure if he shared the same depth of longing.
"I'm flattered by your confidence in me," she chuckled softly, attempting to ease the growing tension within her. "I only wish I shared even a fraction of it myself."
Kai chuckled in response, a sound that echoed warmly in the room. "You'll be fine. Plus, being the only woman raised in the Hassaikai, you'll have something in common."
Turning towards the door leading out of the room, he opened it and gestured for her to follow. Kurono stood sentinel beside the door, offering Overhaul a subtle nod as they stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.
"Chrono," Overhaul addressed his right-hand man, his voice firm and authoritative, "I need you to escort Shinigami up to Eri's room."
Kurono tilted his head back in surprise at the request. His eyes, hidden behind the mask, betrayed caution. "You sure that's wise, Overhaul?" he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.
Overhaul nodded decisively. "The results from the latest batch should be ready. While I attend to them, she can become better acquainted with Eri."
Yuka's brows furrowed slightly, her concern palpable. "You're not accompanying me?" Her voice carried a hint of uncertainty.
Overhaul shook his head, his gaze already shifting towards the path ahead. "I have matters to attend to. Once I've concluded my analysis, I'll join you."
Without waiting for further discussion, he began to stride away with purpose, his footsteps echoing faintly down the corridor as he made his way towards the laboratory where his test results awaited him.
Kurono, standing beside Yuka, directed a contemptuous gaze at her from behind his mask, opening the way towards Eri's room without a backward glance..
"Seems like you've managed to worm your way back into Overhaul's life," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.
Yuka fixed him with a steely gaze as he strode ahead of her. Her jaw tightened as she fought to maintain her composure. With a calm but firm voice, she replied, "I'm here because Overhaul trusts me, just as he trusts you. What happened in the past is irrelevant now. What's important now is what needs to be done, and right now, Overhaul needs me to look after Eri."
Chrono shot a quick glance over his shoulder, his eyes cold and calculating. "You may have him fooled, but the other seven Bullets and I aren't so easily deceived," he retorted sharply.
Yuka maintained her glare as she hastened her pace to keep up with him. Abruptly, she cut him off, pivoting to face him and compelling him to halt in his tracks. She held his gaze with unwavering resolve.
"I'm not here to deceive anyone, Chrono, least of all Overhaul," she asserted firmly. "I'm here because Overhaul asked me to be here, and I doubt he'd appreciate his subordinates questioning his judgment, especially not his second-in-command and oldest friend…"
Chrono's expression hardened, his jaw tensing as he absorbed Yuka's words. After a tense silence, he let out a low scoff, his gaze flickering with a mix of frustration and grudging respect.
"We'll see about that," he muttered under his breath, his skepticism evident. With a curt nod, he turned away and resumed his stride towards Eri's room, the tension between them lingering in the air.
Yuka shook her head disapprovingly, resuming her course as she fell into step behind Kurono, trailing him down the hallway toward Eri's room. Once they reached their destination, Kurono reached for the door and held it open for her.
"She's through here," he stated flatly. "Make sure she doesn't escape. I don't think I need to tell you what'll happen if you do…" His tone carried a clear warning.
Yuka narrowed her eyes at him. "I know what I'm doing," she retorted sharply, though she knew that was far from accurate. Even without seeing Chrono's face, she could sense him rolling his eyes at her remark.
"Whatever. Just make sure she's still here when Overhaul checks in. You can handle that much at least, hmm?" he remarked mockingly.
Yuka sighed inwardly, refusing to dignify Chrono's sarcasm with a response. Instead, she turned towards the open door, stepping through it with unwavering resolve, determined to prove him wrong through her actions.
The door clicked shut behind her, plunging Yuka into sudden darkness. Only faint traces of light filtered through the cracks in the doorframe, leaving her disoriented. Confused, she questioned why Eri's supposed bedroom was so dimly lit. Hugging the wall, she fumbled around for a potential light switch but came up empty-handed. Frustrated, she sighed, resorting to her cellphone for illumination.
"Why is it so dark? Are the lights not working?" she posed the question to herself, casting a wary glance around the dim room.
She noticed a shadow moving out of the corner of her eye and spun around, only to find nothing but empty space. Scrunching her brows, she wondered if her imagination was playing tricks on her. As she scanned the room, her gaze landed on a small table lamp nearby. Crossing over to it, she pulled the chain, relief flooding her as light flooded the space, banishing the shadows and filling the room with a warm, cozy light.
As soon as the light flickered on, movement caught her eye again. She turned to survey the room, spotting a small crouched figure hiding behind a dresser. Yuka froze, recognition hitting her in an instant—the same frightened expression, the same bandages on her arms and legs. The girl flinched as their eyes met, attempting futilely to hide further behind the dresser.
Yuka's heart softened behind her mask as she took slow, measured steps towards the trembling girl.
"Is that you, Eri?" Her voice was gentle, laced with a hint of uncertainty, though she knew deep down it could only be her. "I'm not sure if you remember me, but we've met before."
The girl, huddled against the wall, visibly flinched at the sound of Yuka's voice. Her wide, fearful eyes darted between Yuka's masked face and the room's dimly lit corners, as if searching for an escape route. Yuka's heart sank, realizing her mask, eerily reminiscent of Overhaul's, likely intensified the girl's terror. Worried that Eri might inadvertently harm herself by knocking over the dresser she was trying to hide behind, Yuka halted her approach. Instead, she maintained a safe distance and crouched down, meeting the girl at eye level.
"Hey, it's okay," Yuka coaxed, her voice soft and reassuring, despite the lump of apprehension in her throat. "You don't have to be scared. I promise I'm not here to hurt you."
Eri whimpered softly, her small form trembling visibly. She clutched the edges of her tattered clothes, her fingers nervously fidgeting. The room, now bathed in the warm glow of the table lamp Yuka had switched on, seemed to offer little comfort to the traumatized girl.
Yuka remained crouched, maintaining a respectful distance from Eri. She let out a despondent sigh, a sense of helplessness washing over her. The girl was completely terrified, and Yuka couldn't help but see her own past reflected in those frightened eyes. She remembered the fear she had felt growing up in the Shie Hassaikai, the resistance she faced from both children and adults alike when she was adopted into the organization.
Thinking about her own struggles, Yuka empathized deeply with Eri. She imagined what it must have been like for the girl—growing up not only as the lone female in the organization but also as its youngest member. The thought of Eri having only her father to care for her tugged at Yuka's heartstrings. She wondered about Eri's mother and a chilling thought crossed her mind. Recalling Kai's ruthless nature towards those who disappointed him, she feared the worst. Perhaps this was why Eri was so terrified of him? While Kai wasn't known for his nurturing demeanor, surely he wouldn't have gone so far as to have her mother killed? Yuka couldn't bring herself to believe it outright. Regardless, prying into Eri's past was out of the question; Yuka doubted the girl would open up to her if she tried. Instead, Yuka focused on easing Eri's discomfort.
Finally, an idea came to her. Carefully, she removed her mask and placed it on the dresser beside Eri. She settled back down in front of her, maintaining a respectful distance, before offering her a gentle smile.
"There, that should be less intimidating," she chuckled lightly. "And without my mask, I can't use my Quirk, so you're even more safe."
Although Yuka knew her Quirk wasn't entirely dependent on her mask, she was determined to earn Eri's trust. If sacrificing her support item helped achieve that, it was a small price she was more than willing to pay. Fortunately, this seemed to spark the girl's curiosity, prompting her to cautiously peek her head out from behind the drawer to get a better look.
"Is it okay if I sit with you? I know it can get really scary around here," Yuka spoke softly, scanning the room with a curious gaze. "I used to have a room just like this when I was your age."
The familiarity of the room struck Yuka—the same barren walls, same rickety bed… It was like she had been suddenly transported back in time to her old childhood bedroom. The dim lighting only added to the sense of déjà vu, reminiscent of how she used to keep her own room. Back then, the darkness provided a sense of sanctuary, just as Eri sought to evade her by hiding behind the dresser just now. Yuka recalled how she used to hide from her father underneath the bed whenever he would come by her room, oftentimes to scold her for being too soft and weak.
Shaking off the memories, Yuka returned her attention to Eri and offered another gentle smile.
"I'm sorry, got a little distracted there," she chuckled nervously. "I won't push you to come out if you don't want to, but I think we'd both be more comfortable on the bed, don't you think?"
She held out her hand to her, a silent invitation to come out of hiding. Eri hesitated, her eyes fixed on the outstretched hand in front of her. With a shaky movement, she inched forward, tentatively reaching out her own hand before quickly retracting it. Then, with a nervous cry, she scurried past Yuka and darted towards the bed, slipping under the covers as she continued to tremble fearfully.
Yuka sighed heavily as she stood up, moving towards the end of the bed before sinking into the mattress. Doubt gnawed at her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was in over her head.
Just as she was on the verge of losing hope entirely, she noticed a small tuft of white hair poking above the covers, and Eri's ruby red eyes met hers.
"W-Who are you?" Eri's voice trembled with uncertainty.
Yuka realized she hadn't even introduced herself yet and let out a soft laugh at the glaring oversight. She then scooted a bit closer to Eri, offering her hand for a handshake.
"I'm..." Her voice caught in her throat as she recalled the name given to her by the heroes during the raid on the League of Villains' old hideout. "... Hana. It's a pleasure to meet you."
She wasn't entirely sure why she had chosen to reveal her birth name. Perhaps she felt like it made her more approachable somehow, or maybe she had done it in the spirit of vulnerability. Using her real name felt like a way to convey honesty and sincerity, possibly bringing her closer to earning Eri's trust. Yet, she realized Eri had no idea she even went by another name, leaving her even more perplexed by her own decision to share her birth name.
"Hana…" Eri repeated softly, her voice barely audible but filled with a hint of wonder. "Pretty name."
Yuka smiled warmly at her, the kindness in her eyes reflecting the sincerity of her words. "Not as pretty as Eri."
Eri shifted uncomfortably at the compliment, her fingers nervously picking at the frayed edges of her sleeves. "That's not true…"
Yuka's expression softened sympathetically, sensing Eri's discomfort mirrored her own feelings toward her name, especially upon hearing it from the heroes. Over time, however, it had started to feel more "real" to her, which evoked conflicting feelings whenever she thought about it.
"I used to hate my name too," Yuka admitted gently, her voice carrying a soothing tone. "But over time, it's grown on me. Now, it doesn't feel so bad when I use it." She smiled warmly, hoping to ease the tension in the room. "You're the very first person I've told this to."
Eri's eyes brightened slightly at her words, a glimmer of curiosity replacing some of the fear that had clouded them moments before. She lowered the covers, revealing her face, and sat up cross-legged, her small hands fidgeting nervously in her lap.
"Why?" Eri asked tentatively, her voice barely more than a whisper as she avoided direct eye contact.
Yuka regarded her thoughtfully. "Why what?"
"Why did you decide to tell me?" Eri's gaze shifted downward, her fingers tracing an imaginary pattern on the bedsheets.
Yuka took a moment to consider her response, choosing her words carefully. "Because I think we're going to be spending a lot of time together, and I'd like us to be able to trust each other."
She offered Eri a gentle smile, hoping to reassure her. But Eri remained unconvinced, her vulnerability palpable in the air between them.
"You shouldn't do that…" Eri's voice trembled, the faintest hint of a sob breaking through.
Yuka furrowed her brow, a pang of concern tightening her chest. "Why would you say that?"
Eri hesitated, her voice barely a whisper against the stillness of the room. "…because you'll get hurt."
Yuka exhaled softly, her heart aching at Eri's words. Turning to face Eri directly, she reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair away from Eri's face. "Nothing's going to happen to me, Eri," she assured her firmly, her voice steady and reassuring. "If you're worried about Overhaul, he won't harm me. I promise."
Her words were meant to comfort, yet Eri seemed to panic at the mention of Overhaul's name. Without warning, Eri threw herself into Yuka's arms, trembling uncontrollably against her chest.
"Please!" she cried desperately, her voice muffled against Yuka's shoulder. "Don't let him take me away!"
Yuka held Eri close, stunned by the depth of her fear toward her own father. Memories of her own childhood flooded back, vivid and raw. She couldn't help but empathize deeply with Eri's plight, recalling her own initial terror when her father had first brought her into the Shie Hassaikai's fold. Gently, she wrapped her arms around Eri, drawing her in close, offering comfort and solace in the warmth of her embrace.
"Everything's going to be alright," she whispered softly, her voice a calming presence in the darkness. "I'm here for you. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."