To Be Alone Chpt. 27 (Send My Love Pt. 24 - Sister)
Fandom: My Hero Academia Rating: M / Mature Warnings: Abandonment issues, mentions of past trauma, Seirei's past Word Count: ~14.5k Where you can find me: AO3, TikTok, Wattpad
Summary:
Akira attempts to move on from the new developments surrounding Ankoku's resurgence in a desperate attempt to keep Hitoshi from growing up too fast. Mirai refuses to do the one thing that could guarantee the other pro heroes and detectives an upper hand in the hunt for Ankoku. After much thought, Seirei makes her most painful yet simplest choice yet.
Akira
The morning after felt brittle, as if my entire world had suddenly turned to glass, and I was just waiting for one wrong word or movement to send everything shattering.
Mirai had called as soon as he saw the news about Ankoku’s reappearance, and the panic in my voice was just enough to cut through whatever resolve he’d built up to stay at the agency. I’d tried to sound brave for his sake, but the edges had crumbled, and he’d heard it. That was all it took for him to promise to be with me again within a few hours. I tried to tell him that it was okay, that we would be fine, but I couldn’t lie to him. I wasn’t fine without him. I needed him just as I had every moment we were apart, but this sort of need was different. I needed him because he was a reminder that I was strong enough to face whatever was coming my way.
After Hitoshi returned from washing his face and brushing his teeth, Hizashi had turned everything off, insisting that it was time for us all to head to bed. I couldn’t sleep, though, not even with Seirei behind me and Tenko wrapping me against his chest with Hitoshi pressed between the two of us. I just couldn’t sleep even with the knowledge that Hizashi was in his bedroom right down the hall and that Shota was on the couch. I couldn’t sleep even with the knowledge the Tsukauchi had a team of detectives keeping a watchful eye on us. I couldn’t sleep even with the knowledge that Enji, Nemuri, Snipe, Keigo, and a dozen other pro heroes had taken on additional patrols in the area throughout the night and early hours of the morning.
Keigo was coming back just to watch the skies over us. He wouldn’t be able to see me, but he was willing to risk his safety, to be away from home without reward, just to make sure I knew he was close, that he had my back.
My body was exhausted, but my mind wouldn’t let me rest.
I heard the click of the lock turning from the other room. It was quiet and careful, but my body recognized the sound. I had been on high alert ever since Ankoku escaped Tartarus, but it was even more intense now that I knew he was getting closer. I had everything to lose. I had my son, my Player One, my Speakers, my sister, my…Shota. My family. Mirai and Arehate were the only ones missing from the people I needed to protect, but I had to trust that they were safe. Still, the click of the lock made my breath hitch and my muscles tense. I was prepared. I was ready for the fight I didn’t want to have because I was certain that it wouldn’t be one I’d walk away from, but if I fell, I planned to take Ankoku with me.
Shota would’ve been asleep in the living room. If it was Ankoku at the door, he’d go for him first. It would be fast and quiet. He wouldn’t want to give me a chance to wake up and intervene. The thought of losing him in that moment made my chest constrict even further, and my heart began hammering so hard, I could feel it over every inch of my body. The only images in my head were of Shota’s body on the floor, his eyes empty and lifeless, his body broken and battered beyond recognition. He’d look like the basement ladies, like ground meat and blood.
I slipped from the bed like I’d done a thousand times before, times when I’d left the apartment in the night when I was younger and found myself walking across the city toward Shota’s apartment. I was good at being silent. Hitoshi whined softly in his sleep, a gentle, muffled sound that made my heart ache. His small hand reached for me in the dark, but Tenko, without even opening his eyes, pulled Hitoshi into his own warmth, threading his gloved fingers through his violet hair, soothing him back to a peaceful slumber. That was all it took. I could leave them both for just a second without worrying that Hitoshi would wake up scared and alone.
I padded down the hall silently, every step measured and careful. Hizashi’s door opened before I could get too far, and I was certain he must’ve heard the same click, or he must’ve felt me moving. He was well attuned to every move I made in the apartment. He was moving before I could even ask, putting himself between me and whatever threat could possibly be on the other side of the apartment door. I felt a rush of gratitude and guilt twist simultaneously in my stomach. He always did that, always stepped in front of me like he could take the world’s worst head-on and walk away smiling. Whenever I asked him about it, his response was always the same: “because I’m your older brother, and you’ll never face the world alone again. I’ll face it for you.”
We moved together with him making sure to keep his arm out in an attempt to keep me behind him. The living room opened up in front of us, dark aside from the haze from the streetlights that leaked through the curtains. Shota was sitting up on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his face holding all the exhaustion of the past several months on it. His eyes flicked to the door, then to me. It was clear that he hadn’t been sleeping either. None of us truly had been since Ankoku’s escape from Tartarus, but we were all just pretending more often than not.
The door creaked softly as it pushed open, and a tall figure stepped into the room before immediately closing and locking the door behind him. His coat hung down to his mid-thighs, and his collar was upturned. His hair was slightly disheveled, and those golden eyes looked so exhausted, but he still didn’t fail a gentle smile when our eyes met. I hadn’t expected him to come until morning, but I should’ve known better by now that his duties as a father were more important to him than anything else.
He didn’t look at anyone or anything else once his eyes met mine. “Akira,” he breathed out my name like it was an answer to some ancient question he’d finally found the response to.
That was it. That was all it took for something inside me to begin breaking apart. That was all it took for the tension and fear and responsibility I’d been holding together with trembling hands to finally fall apart. We crossed the room toward each other, and I crashed into him, throwing my arms around his waist and pressing my face into his chest. I didn’t care that my breath hitched, that I was coming apart at the seams, that my body felt like it would cave in on itself. I didn’t care that I clawed at him like the little girl I’d once been when I’d been brought away for private questioning and thought I would never see him again.
“Dad,” I choked out, the word shattering on my tongue. It was a relief and a heartbreak all at once. It had only been a few days without him, but it felt like an eternity with everything that happened since Tenko and I returned to Mustafu without him to stay with us. He was just as much my home as the rest of my family was, so being away from him in the worst time of my life meant losing my footing on the world. I hated being away from him just in general, but I hated it a thousand times more than ever before when I felt so scared and vulnerable.
His arms wrapped around me, strong and unyielding. One hand cupped the back of my head, cradling me against his chest, and he held me like I was the only thing that could possibly anchor him to the world, like I was his tether to both life and joy. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he whispered into my hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head before he breathed me in the same way I had done to him. His voice was steady despite its clear exhaustion. It was the kind of voice he’d used when I was still so little and had nightmares. It was the voice he used whenever he promised to come back home to me. “I’m right here, Akira. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” he repeated the words as if they could burrow deeper into my bones and remind me of the truth he’d always promised me: I was never alone in this world.
I pressed my face harder into his chest, searching for his heartbeat, for the proof that he was real and not just some desperate hallucination that had been conjured up by exhaustion and fear. I trembled hard, but he simply tightened his grip around me. It was like he believed he could hug the terror out of me if he tried hard enough. No matter how many times I thought I had grown up, there were moments like that where I was nothing more than a girl who still needed her dad. I needed him when I was happy, when I was hurt, when I was scared, when the world felt like it was ending, when it felt like there were monsters lurking just out of sight, when it felt like I didn’t know how to breathe or how to feel or how to keep holding on. I needed him because he was my first safe haven after the basement, because he was the one who could pull me back from the edge when I was so close to falling.
I needed him because he was my dad.
He stroked his large hand through my hair as I sobbed into his chest, letting it all out. It was like everything I’d been holding back to keep Hitoshi from seeing the truly broken pieces of me was finally released. I felt so small in his arms. I felt like I was a little girl all over again, clinging to his legs at the agency and begging him not to leave for another mission, terrified that he wouldn’t come back to me. I never stopped being that little girl, though, and with Ankoku on the loose and drawing closer, I knew that Mirai would be among the list of people he would target in order to get to me, and I couldn’t lose him. I could never lose my dad, not when he was the first person apart from my Tenko to ever love me unconditionally, not when he was another piece of my soul that I couldn’t live without. I couldn’t exist in a world void of him. I refused to.
I’d tried to be brave for Hitoshi’s sake. I tried to act unfazed for Seirei and Tenko, to show them that I could handle the fear that threatened to consume me upon seeing the new messages from Ankoku, to show them that I could be strong for myself and could take care of them. I tried to be strong for Shota, to show him that he trained me well, that I was capable of being the hero he’d spent so much of his life ensuring I could become. I tried to be defiant for Hizashi’s sake, to show him that I was still the stubborn and fierce girl he raised me to be. But I couldn’t be anything but Akira to Mirai. With him, I was just a little girl.
He continued whispering the same words to me in different orders as I cried. “I’m here,” “I’ve got you,” “it’s okay,” “you’re safe,” “you’re not alone.” His voice was rough around the edges, like he’d been fighting sleep and fear for hours until he got back to me. I just clung to him, pressing myself as close as I could as I trembled and allowed myself to feel the fear that broke me apart because I knew he’d pick up the pieces with the gentlest hands before putting me back together and calling me his brave girl again.
It was like I processed everything all at once: Keigo and the birthday party, the messages with him and my guilt for hiding it from my family, the pain of potentially losing him as a friend, the fear of disappointing my family if they found out, the weight of motherhood in times when I still just needed to be a child myself, the terror of losing Tenko all over again, the fear of losing them all, the fear of Ankoku finding us. It all hit me, and I didn’t care about being strong in that moment. I just let go. I allowed myself to crumble. I let myself be his daughter because that was all I was when I was in his arms.
“You weren’t supposed to come back yet,” I reminded him after a few moments of silence that was filled with nothing but my muffled sobs and his steady heartbeat that reminded me that he was here. My voice trembled as the words caught in the fabric of his coat. It was the only thing I could think to say. It was a reminder of the plans we’d both made. He was supposed to be at the agency, supposed to be easing us all back into normalcy, supposed to be returning for dinner a few nights a week like before until I was ready to return to my work study with him. He had suggested it in an attempt to get us back to feeling something relatively close to normal once more, to remind me that I was strong enough to get by without him.
His arms tightened around me slightly. “Plans changed,” he murmured into my hair, the words filled with a soft sort of dedication, as if there had never even been another option, as if sticking to the plan wasn’t something he’d ever even considered doing the moment he heard my voice.
I tipped my head back, searching his face for the answer to the question I couldn’t form without breaking apart all over again. The tears hadn’t stopped, and I hated myself for it. He didn’t make a scene when he simply reached up and wiped them away with his thumb. It was the kind of touch that made me feel okay again, the kind of touch that conveyed his promise that he would never fault me for needing him the way I felt I would always need him.
“I called, and you sounded like you needed me,” he explained, allowing a beat to pass before his expression softened from one of concern to one of the purest love I’d ever known apart from that of Hitoshi. He loved me in a way I’d never truly known. Tenko loved me with all the force and ferocity of the universe when it first burst forth. He loved me just because, but there was blood that linked us. There was a shared history and a shared existence. He was quite literally my other half. Hitoshi didn’t have that blood connection with me, but I loved him the way Mirai loved me, and Hitoshi loved me the way I loved Mirai. It was unconditional and all-encompassing. It was simple. I loved them both because there was no other alternative. “You needing me is all the reason I require to turn the world upside down for you. Nothing, no plans or promises, could keep me from coming home to you, tot make sure you don’t forget how to smile.”
I squeezed him tighter, burying my face into his chest once more. I felt the guilt rising up within me once more. It was a thick and ugly thing that crept up in my throat like hot tar. He’d already done so much for me, and my presence in his life put him in danger. It put the people I loved most at risk, and he was still there, loving me through every moment of it. There would be no convincing him to leave, to return home and rest easily. He was devoted to me in the same way ancient societies devoted themselves to their deities. His devotion was unwavering and absolute, but it scared me to think of the lengths he would go to in order to protect me. It scared me to think of a life without him because I didn’t know what the world would look like without his smile.
“I tried to sound okay,” I admitted, my voice so small I could barely recognize it as my own. It was similar to my face in the reflection earlier that night. I couldn’t entirely recognize myself. I’d tried to be brave, tried to make it easy for him to hang up the phone without his nerves forcing him onto a late night train to get back to me. I tried not to pull him away from the life he’d finally started to get back to, but I’d failed.
Of course I failed.
He pressed his hand between my shoulder blades, his fingers tracing over the tension in my back. “You did. You sounded just like my brave girl, but I know you, Akira,” he reminded me, admitting that I’d done my best. He simply knew me too well. “I know how brave you’ve always been, how you shoulder the weight of the world with a smile just so you don’t worry the people around you.”
I opened my mouth to speak, to argue against him, to tell him that I was a fraud, that I was no hero when so many people were dying because Ankoku was trying to get to me, that if I was a true hero, I’d deliver myself into the jaws of death to protect every other innocent civilian who would be hurt. I couldn’t get a single word out before Mirai traced his finger just below my eye, catching another stray tear before it could slip away.
He studied my face just as he had in the late hours of the night when I’d make my way into his room as a little girl. I remembered it like it was yesterday. It was the first time I’d ever seen him cry. It was a night I had a terrible nightmare, and I asked if I could sleep in his bed. He brushed my hair back and hummed to me. His cheeks were wet with tears that I couldn’t understand until I became Hitoshi’s mother. Once I stepped into that role and knew a love like none other, I realized that my heart couldn’t handle the sheer amount of love that existed for him. I was overflowing with it and just looking at him sometimes made me ache with the most wonderful kind of pain. Because how had I become anything to someone so wonderful, someone so pure and good, someone so perfect? How had I been anything to someone who was everything?
And to be loved back by him? By the little boy who was my reason for breathing? It was almost too much to bear.
Mirai pressed his lips to my forehead, and my eyelids fluttered closed. “You don’t have to be brave right now, sweetheart, not for me, not while I’m here. You can just be. I can be brave for both of us, and you can lean on me because that’s my job. Taking care of you is always what I’ve wanted to do, even when I didn’t know you existed. Being your dad was the dream I had before you were ever an idea, before you were ever a reality in my life. I want to take care of you,” he whispered against my skin, and I felt the warmth of his breath against my face.
I swallowed hard as fresh tears slid down my cheeks. “I hate that he still scares me, that I feel like I’m still nothing more than a 5-year-old girl in that basement,” I confessed, the words catching behind the lump in my throat. The shame built up hot and settled in my cheeks. “I feel…I feel so weak,” I admitted as my knees threatened to buckle beneath me under the weight of the memories.
“This isn’t weakness, Akira,” he corrected me firmly, though there was no true heat in his tone. “This is your memory reminding you of the danger you’ve been in. It’s trying to ensure your survival because we never forget our traumas. We learn to live with them, and we can learn from them and grow stronger because of them,” he reminded me, cradling the back of my head against his chest once more where my tears soaked into his coat. “But I need you to remember one thing, sweetheart: you’re stronger than every bit of pain you’ve ever endured. You’re stronger than you know, stronger than anything this world could ever throw at you.”
“I don’t feel strong right now,” I confessed, shaking my head.
He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look into his golden eyes before both hands came up to cup my face. I could see the exhaustion in his features from a clear lack of sleep probably since Tenko and I had returned to Mustafu, the train ride, and the weight of worry all bearing down on him. There was something else there, something far more fierce, a love that rivaled the love I had for Hitoshi. “You’re still here,” he stressed every syllable, his voice filled with the weight of every second we’d spent together, of every memory. “That makes you a force to be reckoned with, sweetheart.”
The words washed over me. I allowed my heart to open up to them, to believe them.
Mirai didn’t let me go, wrapping his arms around me once more instead of cupping my face. I leaned my head against his chest once more as he straightened back up. “Now,” he began, his voice soft but full of determination, “I didn’t come all the way here to sleep on the couch while you’re restless in your bedroom, so…” I glanced up at him as his eyes flickered to Shota and Hizashi who were watching my moment with Mirai in silence. It was clear that they knew he was there for me, nothing else.
Hizashi nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he headed toward his room. “My bed is the biggest one in the apartment, so I’ll get more pillows and blankets ready for everyone,” he suggested, leaving the three of us in the living area once more.
Mirai motioned for Shota to follow as he made he led the way to my bedroom, his hand remaining pressed to the small of my back as if that alone could keep me tethered to his presence because without it, I’d lose myself yet again. We slipped into my room, and the sight nearly undid me all over again. Tenko was curled up on his side with Hitoshi tucked against his chest. My Player One’s face was soft in sleep, but it was troubled by whatever dream he found himself in. He had been sleeping peacefully until I left the room earlier, but now, his brows were drawn tight with worry. We didn’t sleep well apart. Hitoshi had tangled himself in the blankets in Tenko’s arms, his little hand clutching onto Tenko’s shirt. Seirei was sprawled across her side of the bed, her golden hair a chaotic mess that she’d thrown back into a ponytail before she fell asleep.
Hitoshi was the first one to stir as we crossed the room to him. His eyes met mine first, and then they flickered to Mirai. “Jiichan?” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his fists, his voice so small and sleepy that it made my heart ache. I knew one day, it would deepen, and I’d ache for his sweet little voice again. Mirai had joked with Shota and I the first time Hitoshi had called him “jiichan,” telling us that he was far too young for that title, but he wore it with such pride and never once questioned it in front of Hitoshi. All he had ever done was continue to act like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I watched Mirai’s face soften as he scooped Hitoshi up into his arms with the same gentle care he used to lift me up as a child and even now. “Come on, little one,” he murmured as Hitoshi melted into his arms the same way he did in Shota’s. After we collected Tenko and Seirei, we filed out of the bedroom, following Mirai to Hizashi’s bedroom where blankets and pillows littered the bed.
Once we were all settled in, Mirai lay between Tenko and I, our hands reaching across his chest as we both curled into him. Tenko had finally opened up fully to Mirai during our stay with him, still hesitant but more willing to accept the love he offered because he saw what that love had done for me. Hitoshi was nestled half on top of me and half wedged between Mirai and I, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist and his face buried against my body. After a soft “I love you most, Mommy,” he was out like a light.
Shota lay on the other side of Tenko, grumbling about how we’re all terrible at sleeping separately, but it didn’t hold much heat, and it certainly didn’t hold weight coming from the man who was barely at his own apartment most of the time. Hizashi didn’t say anything as he led Seirei toward the bed. She’d insisted that she’d sleep in the living room, but when my brother reached for her and touched her without receiving any resistance, she let him pull her toward the bed with him. It was the first time I’d ever witnessed that she allowed a man to touch her without her being the one to initiate it. She’d hugged him and landed playful punches on Enji’s arm occasionally. Still, I’d never seen her allow a man to touch her without her pushing him away.
She was softer in that moment, and I didn’t know if it was because she—like me—was reverting back to a little girl or because she was so tired of constantly fighting that her walls started to crumble. Perhaps, my brother had finally managed to crack the shell she built. I didn’t know for sure, but the way she followed him, the way she gave in when he asked her to stay, the softness in her eyes when she looked at him told me that he’d reached a part of her that not even she knew was there. Her fire wasn’t gone—evidenced by the way she reached over him to flip Shota off as a way of saying “goodnight”—but she was softer than before.
Seirei faced away from the rest of us, and I knew in the soft quiver of her shoulders exactly why.
Hizashi noticed it, too, so when he spoke to me, he made sure his soft voice was just audible enough for Seirei to hear it as well. “You may be afraid, Stars, but I’ll tell you the same thing I told you when you were much smaller than you are now…” he began, craning his neck to glance back at her, hoping she was paying attention, “girls are built to survive the impossible.”
I nodded, remembering that mantra, remembering the countless times my brother had repeated it to me when I was growing up. It was a reminder that I was stronger than the circumstances I’d faced. It was a reminder that I was built to endure, that I was unbreakable, that no matter what I thought, I was not fragile.
“I’m a girl, so I can survive the impossible.”
~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~
The next morning came quickly. Seirei, Shota, and Hizashi were out of bed before the rest of us, muffled speaking coming from the kitchen. Mirai was awake but still in bed beside me, clearly having been waiting for me to wake up so as to not panic me by his sudden absence. When we were all awake, Mirai joined in on the conversation with Tsukauchi and Enji, which led them into the office that Hizashi often used for his music with maps, photographs, coffee, and whispered plans laid out before them. From the small bits of information I gathered with Tenko, who was helping me keep Hitoshi distracted with Jettie’s help, they were discussing ways to keep Seirei, Tenko, and me—primarily me—safe. It seemed like Ankoku was after me in particular since the messages were so pointed.
When I caught sight of the map while asking them if anyone wanted breakfast, Mirai quickly stepped in the way to block my view. It was a clear indication that he didn’t want me to see what was going on, but I didn’t like secrets. From what I did see, though, there were various routes, safehouses, contingencies for if Ankoku got any closer, and possibly an evacuation plan in the works if he managed to breach the safety nets they’d set up. They spoke of patrols, check-ins, and what to do if the next number showed up any closer than the last.
Shota took Tenko, Hitoshi, and I out to go shopping, clearly having heard enough. The rest of them stayed behind despite me asking if Mirai could join us. Sho reminded me quickly that while I wanted him close, he was a master strategist, and his input would be some of the most vital.
“I won’t do it” I heard Mirai say from the other room as we were preparing to leave. There was a level of distress in his voice that I hadn’t heard before, one that made my heart clench in my chest. I checked around me before stepping up to the closed door silently, leaning my ear closer to it.
There was a long pause before Enji spoke, “I know you have your reservations, Mirai, but your foresight-”
“I said I won’t do it!” Mirai snapped, his voice firm and loud enough for me to have heard it even if I hadn’t been eavesdropping. “Of everyone in this room, you should be the first person to understand why,” he argued in a lower but much more intense tone.
“This would be for the best. We could at least plan these things ahead of time if we know for sure that Ankoku is coming for her. We can know when and how he gets to her if that’s what he’s planning,” Tsukauchi countered, “it’ll give us intel that we can use to our advantage.”
What are they talking about?
“Guys, I think we’re pushing this a bit too far,” Hizashi chimed in, and I had never felt more relief that he was willing to jump to Mirai’s defense.
Enji cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to say this, but we’re all doing our best to keep Akira and the others safe. There are dozens of heroes out there right now who are taking on more than their fair share of the workload in order to protect the citizens, but they’re also here to protect Akira. If you’re not willing to help, then perhaps you should step back and let those who are willing to make the necessary sacrifices do the work.”
My cheeks burned red hot, and I grabbed the handle, prepared to burst in on them. How dare you! How dare you speak to him like that! How dare you talk about sacrifice when he’s sacrificed for me since the day I met him! He’s been through enough without you throwing it back in his face, you monster! He’s a better father to me than you could ever hope to be with your children, you cold, ruthless, calculating piece of-
“The last time I used my quirk to see that far into the future, I watched my friend die. I’ve seen countless people…I’ve watched their futures unfold, and I’ve been unable to prevent it. It’s as if my visions are inevitable, like the future I see is already set in stone,” Mirai explained, clearly haunted by the things he’d seen, the weight of his power bearing down on him. “What if…what if by using my quirk to see into their future, I’m sealing their fate? What if my visions are what make their future an inescapable reality? And now, you’re asking me to use it on my daughter?!” he asked, his voice trembling under the weight of his fear.
My heart stalled. He was afraid. He had been so strong for me, put on the voice and face of certainty for my sake, made me feel safe enough to sleep. Now, he was crumbling just thinking of using his quirk on me. He didn’t want to seal my fate, didn’t want to see a future that would inevitably come to pass.
“Akira,” Shota’s voice sounded behind me, quiet enough not to draw attention from the others behind the door but stern enough to pull me from my eavesdropping. I whipped around to face him, my heart pounding in my ears. Was this why he left the conversation? Was this why he wanted to take me out shopping for school when it was virtually impossible for him to leave the apartment before noon most days? He turned on his heel, “if they wanted you to take part in that conversation, you’d be in the room with them. Let’s go.”
Unbeknownst to me, Mirai had already given Shota his credit card for Tenko, Hitoshi, and I to buy what we needed for school starting back up: new clothes, backpacks, and school supplies. I’d insisted on putting money toward Hitoshi’s clothes because he was growing out of them, but Sho refused and paid for every bit of Hitoshi’s things with his own money. He’d done so with a smile on his face, as if fatherhood wasn’t just something I’d thrust upon him when I brought Hitoshi home but something that made him feel like breathing was easier. He treated fatherhood the same way I treated my role as a mother: like it was the greatest responsibility and the greatest joy of our lives.
We’d kept up the façade that everything was business as usual for Hitoshi’s sake since he was still oblivious to the sudden seriousness in the air. I didn’t let go of his hand for more than 10 seconds the entire time we were out, and even when I did, my eyes were glued to him. The entire time we shopped, Shota kept his body positioned between us and the door.
Every moment that day felt shadowed by all the things none of us were talking about. The cancelled pre-term dinner party—an annual tradition Hizashi always insisted on hosting, meant to welcome new faculty and let staff relax before the chaos of another school year—hung over all of us. Even Shota, who always found a reason to sneak out of the party early to get out of small talk and the busy nature of it all, seemed shaken by the cancellation. It was a solemn day that Tenko and I tried breaking when we returned to the apartment.
Mirai had disappeared with Enji, Seirei, and Tsukauchi to discuss further plans at the Tsukauchi’s office. It was hard to keep up appearances when we all knew that everything was subject to change with one phone call or one more breaking headline. Still, I forced myself to smile for Hitoshi, to remind myself of the goodness in my life even in the face of all the darkness that seemed to be looming over us. I had my family. I had Tenko back. I had my son. I had a hero career ahead of me, and I wouldn’t give that up, not because of some man in a basement 12 years ago. I was my son’s favorite hero, and I’d become the very best one I could be to make him proud.
I wanted him to remember the days we were living as boring and simple and safe. I didn’t want him to worry, so I refused to succumb to my own fears. It was a heroes job to be strong for those around them, to swallow their own fear and move forward, leading by example. I could fail at everything else in my life, but as long as I did well as a mother, I’d be content with that.
So I stayed strong for him, and I didn’t let anyone else around me see how close I was to falling apart. I stayed strong, and I kept moving. I kept smiling. I folded new clothes, sharpened pencils, labeled folders, and helped Hitoshi pick out which folders were for which subject before packing his backpack with him. I made dinner with Hizashi that night, the two of us moving around each other in the kitchen. Hizashi was quieter than usual, but one bump from my hip was all it took to shake him out of his daze. He grasped my wrist before spinning me away from him, causing me to laugh as he twirled me around.
His singing was accompanied by Hitoshi’s quick footsteps as he ran into the kitchen to join in. “Do you want to dance with mommy, too, Peanut?” Hizashi asked, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses.
Hitoshi’s eyes brightened at the prospect, rushing forward and throwing himself against me. Hizashi instructed him on how to hold my hands and spin me around. When he requested that he twirl me the way Hizashi had, I lowered myself down awkwardly to dip beneath his arm in order to twirl beneath it.
“It’ll be easier when you’re taller than her someday, sweetheart,” Shota grinned, leaning against the island as he watched us dance together. My eyes met his briefly, watching his gaze soften before he turned his attention to Hitoshi, “dancing is Mommy’s way of expressing herself. It’s how I had to train her in the first place. I taught her how to fight like it was a dance.”
“Will you teach me to fight someday, too?” Hitoshi asked, his voice filled with excitement.
My heart stuttered, and before Shota could answer, I stepped in. “When you’re older, my sweetest little starlight. You’re still my baby boy, and for now, we have dancing,” I smiled, continuing to sway with him and desperately trying to avoid his line of questioning. Training would mean that he was growing up, and I wanted to keep him a little boy for as long as I could.
I was meant to fight for both of us.
Seirei joined Hizashi, dancing with him as she twirled and the two of them laughed together. Hizashi laughed easily with her, but she looked softer than I’d ever seen her before that moment, almost like I was catching a glimpse of who she was before the basement. It was like seeing the woman she could’ve become if life had been kinder to her. I’d always wished I could somehow go back in time and change the course of events that hurt the people I loved most, and despite knowing that it was impossible, I held onto the moments like those when I saw the healing of the ones who had been through such pain and struggle. She let him touch her. Because my brother’s hands weren’t like the hands of the men from the basement.
Hizashi’s hands were safe.
After dinner in which Mirai wore a stiff smile, Tenko and Hitoshi helped clean up before they dissolved into games for the evening. Tenko knew how important it was to keep him away from the anime we’d been watching because of the possibility of more breaking news. We all kept our phones close by to stay updated, but Hitoshi deserved to be as carefree as possible. He’d paid his dues with all the things he’d already been through, so he would know peace or the world would know my fury.
Hizashi and Seirei spoke out on the balcony while Shota went on a “walk” with Mirai, which I’d come to know as their way of patrolling without telling me. They had done the same things when Ankoku first escaped Tartarus, sometimes even making it not so subtle when they staggered their “strolls.” It was their way of feeling some level of control in a situation that felt like utter chaos. I understood the feeling. It was the same reason why I continued to hum “Moonlight Sonata” throughout my life in my moments that I needed to create some sort of inner peace and order. When I couldn’t control what was going on around me, I found comfort in knowing I could still control myself.
The sliding door to the balcony was cracked open just enough for the night air to slip inside. With it being mid-April, the air was still crisp but not as cold as the winter chill. I’d only stepped out into the kitchen to get Jettie some of her treats as she perched on my shoulder. She spent most of her time between Tenko and I since the birthday party, though Tenko was still afraid of her presence. After learning what happened to Mon-chan, I was empathetic to Tenko’s fears. If she wasn’t with one of us, she wrapped up around Shota’s neck, but she was typically with whichever one of us was with Hitoshi.
Because she was a traitor and preferred my son over me.
I couldn’t blame her, though, and I much preferred it. Hitoshi loved her, and she wasn’t skittish with him. He could pick her up and cuddle her, and she flopped around wherever he put her and eased into however he chose to carry her.
I fed her a treat before she licked my fingers, and I glanced out the glass door that led onto the balcony. Hizashi and Seirei stood close, their silhouettes framed by the city lights outside. Hizashi was leaning against the railing as his shoulders relaxed in a way that they seldom did when he was around most people. Seirei, though, was not most people, and it was becoming clearer by the day that she specifically wasn’t “most people” to my older brother.
Her arms were folded loosely across her chest, one shoulder resting against the railing. From the way they stood, I couldn’t tell it they’d been so close just that once or a million other times. Hizashi was talking, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke, and Seirei just watched him with the hint of a smile on her face. Hizashi laughed, but it was soft. It wasn’t the booming voice he used in public or the sometimes cartoonish one he used when he was trying to entertain. That laugh was different, softer and gentle in a way that I hadn’t witnessed before. It was a laugh that didn’t belong to me, that his soul had clearly reserved for someone special.
Just as her smile wasn’t a kind I’d ever seen on her face before. It made her look like a girl who had never been touched by the world. It was a rare sight to see her like that. She was typically wound tight as a spring, ready to snap at anyone who got too close, especially men who got too close. She wasn’t like that with him, though. They had both known such intense and raw anger, such deep pain and rage. There was peace in the air around them, like two souls finally colliding.
Hizashi said something else, much quieter, and I saw his hand move slightly along the railing until his fingers brushed the back of her pinky. It was so light and delicate that it even made my face warm at the thought of being touched by someone like that. It was like watching that one old movie with Shota and Hizashi. I spoke through the whole thing after begging them to put it on since it was my favorite film at the time. I rambled endlessly about the set design, the way I wanted a dress just like that just for fun, how I wanted to dance with someone the way she did, how the main man finally gave in and danced with her at one point because he realized that it was the one way to get close to her, and he knew how much she loved dancing. I rambled and rambled and rambled, reciting my favorite lines and then explaining why I loved them so much, so they hadn’t truly experienced the movie.
That moment, witnessing my brother and my best friend on the balcony, was like watching that movie. It was a moment of softness, of two people who I loved so endlessly, two people who had sacrificed everything for me time and time again, finally seeing something that they both deserved.
Seirei stilled immediately, but her body didn’t tense. She didn’t pull away. Her emerald green eyes simply dropped to where their hands met. Then, her smile turned bittersweet. Then…just sad.
She said something that I couldn’t make out, and it made Hizashi’s face fall just as hers had. She pulled her hand away before his dropped down to his side. He shook his head, a stray strand of his golden hair falling down to frame his face. She smiled up at him with tears in her eyes as she tucked the strand back behind his ear.
She doesn’t let men see her cry. What is she doing?! What’s happening?!
I wanted to burst out onto the balcony, but I couldn’t. I wanted to ask her what was going on, why she was suddenly so solemn, but I couldn’t. I looked away because I was too scared to face the possibilities that were suddenly running through my mind. Something in the air seemed to change, like it had grown thinner just in that moment as I stood in the kitchen. Jettie’s tail swished over my face, tickling my cheek. I reached up to stroke her fur. So much had occurred recently, but I couldn’t bring myself to add yet another weight onto my chest, so I just ignored it.
I pretended that whatever Seirei and Hizashi were speaking about on the balcony had nothing to do with what was going on with Ankoku, but I had a horrible feeling that it was all connected. Seirei never would’ve hurt Hizashi, that much was certain, so I didn’t understand what had just happened, and it wasn’t like I could just ask them either. “I saw you in a pretty emotionally raw moment with my older brother. What was that about?” didn’t seem like the most tactful question to ask, considering how sensitive Seirei was to being viewed as too soft.
But there was something in her eyes, something that told me she’d made a decision. I didn’t want to know what was about to happen. I wanted time to stop and give me one more moment of reprieve. While I didn’t know what was about to happen, I knew that something was. I could feel the change in the pit of my stomach. Seirei’s mind had been made up about something, and whatever that something was, I’d follow her lead.
~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~
“You…say it again,” I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly painfully dry as I stared at her with wide eyes. My voice trembled, and I hated how I sounded like I was five all over again. I tried to swallow down my nerves, to pull myself together, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking since seeking that familiar certainty in her eyes. I shook my head again, the air on the balcony seeming to grow colder with every passing second, every flutter of my lashes that tried to keep my tears from falling. “I…I don’t think I’m…I-I’m not…I don’t understand,” I stammered, wondering if I was just dreaming or if this was some cruel joke.
She still stood against the railing, though her back was straight, and she faced me, her hip leaning against the cool metal. Hizashi had gone back inside before he instructed me to go talk to her. I tried to question him about why he looked so distraught, but he brushed it off before taking Jettie from my shoulder and cuddling her against his chest. She didn’t typically curl up in his arms the way she did in that moment, but she must’ve known that I needed her to take care of him.
I’m dreaming. She won’t say it again. She can’t say it again. She’ll know I can’t take these kind of jokes, at least not right now.
She glanced out at the city for a moment as if she was looking for the courage somewhere far beyond the limits of the modest apartment. She wouldn’t find it within the four walls of our apartment, which was why…
When she looked back at me, the green color of her eyes made me realize I couldn’t possibly be dreaming. There was no way even my wildest dreams could produce the most beautiful shade of green I’d ever seen, the embodiment of springtime. There was no way my mind could conjure up that image of her, one that made me wonder if there was something greater than me—than all of us—just from the radiance I witnessed in that moment. It was love that I saw in her eyes, but it was also sorrow. It was an apology.
“I’m leaving,” she repeated, keeping her voice steady as she created the foundation for me to fall apart on. She had always looked so unbreakable, but now, she looked exhausted.
“No,” I replied, though I knew her words were final. She’d made her choice, and when Rei made a decision, she wasn’t changing her mind, not for anything. Not even for me. Still, I refused to let those words become truth, and I shook my head again. “No, you’re not. You’re-you…you can’t leave,” I insisted as if denying it hard enough would somehow push the cracking pieces of the universe back in place.
The mere thought of her leaving, the thought of not being with her when Ankoku was getting closer, was suffocating. The panic rose in my chest until it felt like I was choking on it, and I reached out for the cool metal railing, trying to ground myself, but I didn’t want to be tethered to this new reality she was creating. I didn’t want to know a life without my sister because that was what Rei had always been to me. She wasn’t Hana, but she was still my sister in all ways but blood. “You could die,” I pressed, the words clawing out of my throat. I needed to give her the brutal reminders so that she’d be more inclined to stay, to give up this idea of leaving me. I couldn’t sugarcoat anything. “You could die, and I–” my voice caught as my chest tightened.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t lose her. I refused to lose her. My life was finally coming together. I had Hizashi. I had Tenko. I had Mirai. I had Hitoshi and Shota. I had Seirei. I had my family. Of course, Ankoku’s reappearance was looking over us all, but we’d be able to handle it, and if he got closer, if he targeted anyone I cared about, there would be a reckoning. If he was coming for me…
My blood ran cold at the thought.
“You could die out there, and I wouldn’t even know. I…Rei, I…”
“I could die walking back to Enji’s guesthouse tonight,” she reminded me of the daunting reason why I kept trying to convince her to let Shota drive her home when he offered. She didn’t even let Hizashi drive her home. She shrugged her shoulders, not careless, just honest. “I could drop dead right here and right now, but I’d rather die with a purpose. You understand that piece, Kiki. I know you do.”
She wasn’t wrong. I hated that she wasn’t wrong. I did understand. That was all I’d ever wanted: to matter. I wanted to fight so hard that dying felt like the last bit of proof that I’d finally done enough. I couldn’t let it happen to her, though. She was irreplaceable. She was one of the two people in the world who knew the girl I used to be before the basement changed me. I couldn’t let her go, not after I’d just gotten her back. I couldn’t let her walk out when everything else was falling apart. I refused.
I dug my nails into my palms as my hands balled up into fists. “He’ll recognize you. You know he will. He recognized me, and…if he’s still with Twister, you’ll be killed. You’re putting yourself right into the line of fire, and with Ankoku still on the loose-”
“You want to save him, too,” she interjected, her voice firm but gentle. It was a reminder, a reminder that Arehate was out there alone. He was one of my first thoughts after the Tartarus incident, and I had fully planned on tracking Ankoku’s movements. If he continued growing closer to me, I’d brace for impact, but if he began moving away from me, I’d follow him, knowing that he was possibly going to go after Arehate. I knew it was exactly what he was wanting me to do, that I’d be falling into his trap, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about self-preservation when the lives of others were at stake.
A sad smile found its home on her lips. “And besides, out of the two of us, I’d be the one most likely to become a villain,” she snickered, clearly hoping to lighten the mood in an effort to ease my anxiety, but I couldn’t stop the tears that rose to my eyes at the idea of watching her go. The fear that rose up within me, the knowledge that it had always been impossible to change her mind after she’d made a decision, was suffocating me. She reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I play the villain part pretty well. Just ask your future husband,” she grinned, jerking her chin back toward the sliding glass door where Shota prepared tea for Tenko and some hot chocolate for Hitoshi.
“He…he’s not my future anything!” I argued, my panic stuttering in my chest as I suddenly felt like I had to defend my non-existent relationship with Shota. My cheeks burned with embarrassment that flared up in the middle of the fear. Of course she’d call it out now of all times, clearly trying to take my mind off the massive impending loss I was facing.
“Oh, yeah?” she smirked, and I saw a flash of the old Seirei as she poked at my wounds just to make me feel anything besides terror and sorrow. “We were around a slew of…decent looking men during your birthday, Kiki—Tensei, Naomasa, Mirai-”
“He’s practically my father, Rei,” I reminded her as I recoiled. I couldn’t help the tears that began streaming down my cheeks. Despite being distracted enough to not continue the argument about how she couldn’t leave, I couldn’t keep my emotions from spilling out all around me. It was like my body wasn’t distracted the way my mind was in that moment, so I continued to cry as my shoulders began to shake. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t joke about crushes or future boyfriends when my world felt like it was falling apart.
She shrugged, still wanting to keep me on this track to give me a few more moments of reprieve from my pain. She reached forward and wiped my tears away with her thumbs. “Okay, well, Enji was there, too, if you’re into the angry, bad father types,” she joked, forcing a lightness into her tone, like if she managed to keep the conversation light enough, it would somehow keep us from facing the reality that was pooling at our feet. She didn’t mention Keigo—she refused to after what happened.
“Which I’m not,” I muttered with a strangled laugh. I was still spiraling, but she was still trying to save me in her own way.
She knew as well as I did that the only way to stop the spiral was to stay, to tell me she had just been telling a cruel joke, to tell me she was staying for good, that she was actually moving into the modest little apartment that we had like I’d originally wanted her to. There was the extra room that Tenko practically only used for storage of his clothes, but he never slept in his own bed unless Hitoshi and I made our way into the room with him. She didn’t say it, though, and I knew she wouldn’t. Nothing would’ve kept her here unless Ankoku showed up and was an immediate threat to my safety, and even then, she would’ve left as soon as he was dealt with in order to bring Arehate back.
She grinned, still holding onto the distraction. “The point I’m trying to make is that you only had eyes for that sleepy teacher. I suppose he’s not…” she paused, looking for the right words with a playfully mischievous look in her eyes, “…terrible to look at…if you close your eyes with the lights off.” The words were meant to be a jab, but they were delivered with a warmth that was unmistakable, a warmth that Seirei never had for men since I’d known her.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about him,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. I felt lighter for just a split second, as if discussing Shota had given me the strength to face the overwhelming pain I was feeling. It was no real surprise, though, since he was one of the things I held onto during my darkest moments.
“You won’t catch me dead saying nice things about men,” she spat out, though I knew it wasn’t entirely true. She softened when it came to Tenko, Hizashi, and Hitoshi. Someday, Hitoshi would be a man, and I knew she’d never say anything cruel about the boy she’d dedicated her new life to protecting. She was the coolest sort of aunt, the kind who always spoiled him. I didn’t say “no” to him, but Seirei went above and beyond just as Mirai had done for me—and now for Tenko and Hitoshi. Anything he even showed remote interest in, she made sure he had it. She had kept every single one of his drawings and kept his favorite snacks on hand.
She crossed her arms over her chest, defiant as ever as she glanced out toward the city for just a moment. Her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. Anyone else would’ve missed it behind the tough exterior, but I was attuned to her the way Hizashi and Tenko were attuned to me. “There are good ones, though, I suppose,” she added, her voice far softer than it had been before. Her shoulders slumped slightly, the armor slipping out of place, the wall that she attempted to hide behind crumbling ever so slightly.
“Shota’s one of the good ones,” I replied, the words coming out without thinking.
She nodded her head, “and so is Arehate. He just needs to be reminded.”
The words hit me like a punch directly to the chest, a punch that broke my sternum and made it nearly impossible to breathe. It was something I’d said once when we were children. She had been the one to argue his morality with me, but I had been adamant that anyone could be saved, and Arehate was worthy of that same salvation. He was the boy I couldn’t save, the one I felt I had failed after seeing him in Hiza City. He was the boy who went hungry for me, the boy who died for me once. She was reminding me that she remembered those words, that she believed in him and his goodness because I did, because she’d seen me fight for him when no one else was willing to when we were just children.
I wanted to cry, to scream, to beg her not to go, to stay, to be selfish and self-centered for once. I wanted to insist that this was a death sentence, that she was walking into the very jaws of death. I wanted to yell at her, to tell her that she was making a mistake. I wanted to make her stay, but I knew there was no way to stop her. She was going to save him because it was her way of saving me, too.
My throat felt like it closed up as grief and panic mixed together until the city lights blurred in my peripheral vision. Tears continued to roll down my cheeks once more as she stood before me, steady and unflinching, determined and brave in all the ways I couldn’t be in that moment. I couldn’t even move. I was frozen, stuck between the anger and agony that felt like it would consume me at any moment. The fear of being left behind, of being abandoned by the one person who had searched for me for over a decade, was so sharp, so suffocating that I wondered if it would kill me.
I hated her for it. I needed her for it. I loved her for it.
She was my hero because of it.
I didn’t wipe the tears from my face. I let her see every single one until she stepped forward once more and wiped them away with the pads of her thumbs. She deserved to see how much she mattered, how much her absence would hurt. If I couldn’t talk her out of leaving, I had to give her a reason to stay alive so she would return to me. She deserved to see how much she was needed, how my life without her would be grief and a little less bright. She deserved to know how much she was loved.
There was a small voice in the back of my mind, the one that whispered that everyone was destined to leave, that this was my fault, that I was too much, that all the horrible things that happened to those around me were my fault. It was the same voice that had whispered to me that I was too much and not enough all at once.
It was Father’s voice.
She was still there, though, so I clung to that moment with both hands, desperate to slow the hands of time even as it slipped through my fingers like smoke.
“But…but I just got you back, Rei,” I whispered, my voice breaking like the pieces of my heart as I fought against the tears, but they still spilled out, the words rushing out of me like I was a desperate little girl all over again. It was the little girl who first met her, who cried at the door of the basement for hours until they let her come back down with me after the other ladies had been butchered. It was the little girl who clung to her in that basement. It was the little girl who looked at her like the steady foundation she’d always been searching for. I was that little girl all over again.
“And I’ll come back once we have our missing piece,” she promised with an even tone, though we both knew it wasn’t a promise she could truly keep. It was out of her control. She still had to track down Arehate, still had to find a way to get through to him, and then make it home in one piece. Whatever her plan was had to be executed perfectly because any wrong move was sure to result in her death, and that was unacceptable for me. “You have people here to take care of you, Kiki. Arehate doesn’t have anyone out there. I trust Hizashi and Mirai and…as much as I don’t like him, I trust Shota.” She tried to sound flippant, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed the guilt she carried for leaving me.
“I promise I’ll come back. You’ve lost enough. I won’t add to that list,” she promised, reaching out to hook her pinky around mine in the most sacred promise of all. Every promise, every secret, every time I forced her to vow that she’d come back to me, they were all sealed with the same gesture. The sacred pinky promise. I squeezed her pinky so hard I thought I could break it, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she continued speaking. “And you better be alive for me to come home to because…I’ve lost enough, too,” she reminded me, and I realized just how hard this would be for her, too. She wasn’t just facing down her own demise, she was leaving my fate in the hands of others, which was something she never did if she could avoid it.
The silence stretched for a moment as I sniffled, tears still streaming down my face as I gazed up into her eyes. My bottom lip trembled with the need to say something, to say anything, but I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat. I couldn’t speak through the tears. She reached up with her free hand to brush my hair back, fingering the braid in my hair that I wore more often than not to honor the women who sacrificed for me, who showed me love that I never felt like I deserved. It connected me to the women who taught me that heroes weren’t just the people the public celebrated, but they were the ones who fought against darkness in the shadows, the ones who didn’t receive the acclaim despite their bravery and selflessness. The braid was the reminder that I was—at the end of it all—just a girl.
But girls were made to survive the impossible.
“What if I go with-”
“No,” she cut me off, her voice firm and final. I stalled, my mouth still wanting to move, wanting to argue with her, but she continued before I could, “I’ve lost enough sisters in my life, Kiki, and I know you’ve been through enough loss to last a lifetime. I just…I can’t bring you with me. I couldn’t protect my siblings before, and I won’t risk losing you, too.”
I shook my head, the tears falling recklessly, “I couldn’t protect mine either!” I argued, thinking of Hana, of how afraid she must’ve been in her final moments. Despite Tenko not meaning to hurt her, she still died. I couldn’t save her, and I couldn’t save Tenko. I’d failed them both. I thought of all the people I’d lost, all the people I couldn’t save.
“Your other half is still in there, though. You may not have been able to save him from what happened after you thought he died, but you’ve been saving him for months now. I’ve seen how he’s changed, how he smiles easier, how he laughs, how he looks like he’s finally at peace, like he’s alive. He’s your person. Your people are here,” she reminded me again, glancing through the glass to where Tenko lifted Hitoshi over his shoulder as the two of them laughed together. Hitoshi called it “potato time” where Tenko would carry him around like a sack of potatoes and dump him into the pile of pillows on the couch.
“But I…I can’t do this without you. You’re also one of my people. You belong here, too,” I argued as my voice cracked and broke and shattered under the weight of my desperation. I knew that my love wouldn’t be enough to keep her here, but I just wished that somehow I would be wrong about it.
She glanced back inside the apartment, the golden light from the kitchen spilling out toward us as a sad smile spread across her face. She watched Tenko carry Hitoshi back toward the living room and watched Shota carry a tray of drinks out toward the living room behind them. “You have a kid now, Kiki,” she smiled, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it before. It was as if she was talking about a miracle, which was exactly what Hitoshi was to me. “That little boy in there looks at you like you’re the whole world, and I’ve had a chance to see you as a mom. That…has been the greatest gift I ever could’ve asked for—seeing you so happy,” she murmured, her voice cracking as her lips trembled at the corners. “And I’ll protect your peace with my life because that’s my job. It always has been, and it always will be. As someone who has only ever been this-” she gestured to herself, to her scars and stubbornness, to the rough edges and the love hidden underneath.
“My sister,” I corrected her with a sob as my vision blurred further.
Her resolve finally broke, and her eyes filled with tears. She tried blinking them away, but they fell before she could stop them. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever done,” she whispered, her voice trembling as the tears slid down her cheeks, the streaks catching the light perfectly and making her look even more beautiful than she already was. I reached out, cupping her face in my hands as I brushed her tears away. She did the same to me, the two of us gasping and stuttering for air between our sniffling. Her eyes held a burning and devastating love, one that I’d seen time and time again whenever she looked at me, but that time felt too final. “I never needed to be a hero, Akira. I’m not…good the way you are. If I never did anything good with my life, I’d still be able to die with a smile on my face because being a sister was the only thing I was ever really good at. This…” she gestured between us as her lip trembled and her eyes overflowed with tears, “this is what I’ve always been best at. This is all I’ve ever wanted to be good at.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but her next words tore through my heart and left me breathless.
“You’re meant to be a hero, Kiki, and I’m meant to be your sister.”
A sob broke loose in my throat, spilling out past my lips as I threw my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “You’re my hero,” I whispered, hoping that the words would be something she could hold onto when she left, a tether to home.
Her shoulders trembled, and I felt her fresh tears against my shoulder, “and that’s good enough for a girl like me,” she choked out a forced laugh that sounded like a desperate sob as she clung to me with the same desperation that I clung to her. “Now, I’m going to keep being your hero by going in your place because we both know that with Ankoku making his presence known again, one of us was going to go out there to find Arehate. I’ve decided that it’s going to be me.”
Those words landed like a thunderclap. It was final. There truly would be nothing to stop her from leaving. There was nothing anyone could possibly do to change her mind. It was true. I’d already been trying to figure out where Tsukauchi sent his undercover detectives to protect Arehate. I had a plan to take up a work study closest to where he was once I found out. Rei was just faster and knew me too well.
I sniffled, pulling back just far enough to gaze up into those green eyes. I wouldn’t be able to face the spring without being reminded of her. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?” I asked, needing as much time as I could get with her before she left.
Her eyes softened, and she wrapped her pinky around mind once more, “until the very last second,” she promised before leaning her forehead against mine the way she used to when we were girls together. For a moment, I felt so much smaller than I was, so much safer than I had just moments before. “When you come back inside, Kiki, you have to stay present with your little boy, though. Taking care of him has always been your purpose…just like you’ve always been mine.”
~*~~**~~~***~~~~****~~~~~*****~~~~~****~~~~***~~~**~~*~
Shota
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Seirei was a stubborn woman, but watching her slip out of Akira’s bed that night hit me in a way I wasn’t entirely prepared for. She was quiet and careful, as if she was trying not to disturb the peace she’d fought so hard to build. I was in my normal spot, sleeping on the futon beside Akira’s bed. I hadn’t slept at all that night, sensing that something was wrong when Hizashi excused himself to the bathroom after his chat on the balcony with Seirei and returned with bloodshot eyes. I’d stared up at the ceiling, listening to the two girls whisper softly to one another in the bed. Seirei didn’t spend the night often, but when she did, Akira struggled to fall asleep as if she was afraid of her suddenly disappearing.
That night was no different, but when Akira’s breathing finally evened out and Seirei pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, I knew that those fears were about to become a reality. “I’ll see you later…I promise,” she vowed in a shaky voice before the lightest hush of “I love you” fell onto Akira’s sleeping ears.
When she slipped out of bed and moved around all the sleeping forms in the room, her feet nearly silent on the wood floor, She paused in the doorway to look back at the girl who I knew was like family to her. It was in that moment that I knew she wasn’t coming back to bed, that wherever she was going, she was planning on going alone and was perhaps even planning on never returning again. I waited a beat when she disappeared from the doorway before getting up from the futon and following her out to the living room.
The apartment was silent apart from the sounds of the city that never seemed to stop outside. There was a distant drone of a siren somewhere far off. I found her standing by the door, her shoes somehow already on, but she was just standing there, facing the door. She was unmoving, as if she couldn’t move even if she tried.
She didn’t turn around when I approached. Perhaps she knew I was there, or perhaps she was just so lost in her own head that she couldn’t hear my approach. I cleared my throat as to not startle her when I spoke, but she began speaking before I had the chance. “Don’t give me some big speech about how what I’m doing is reckless, okay?” she insisted, her voice low and ragged but still steady. It was a contradiction that only Seirei could pull off, one that made her such an enigma, even to me. “I already know, but I’m doing this for my own selfish reasons, really. If I don’t do this, she’s going to do this. She can survive without me, though, because she has the four of you. I have her. She’s my family.”
It would’ve been so easy to argue. I could have listed every reason why she shouldn’t go, every way she was gambling with her life and Akira’s happiness. Akira didn’t deserve to lose anyone else, and despite being consistently annoyed by her presence, Seirei was a vital part of Akira’s life. Still, I understood her in a way I wished I couldn’t. She was willing to put herself in harms way to minimize the damage to those she loved. She called it selfish, but I knew better. “I understand,” I finally blurted out, my voice rough around the edges from having not slept.
She turned around at that, her eyebrows raising as her green eyes flickered up to meet mine. “You…wait, you do?” she asked, shocked that I was capable of seeing her point, that I was capable of not arguing with her for once. It wasn’t an easy thing for me to do, but I somehow managed in that moment.
I nodded my head, my jaw tightening. Despite how much I understood her reasoning, how much I knew I couldn’t fight against her, there was a piece of me that didn’t want to think of mornings without her flipping me off, mornings where Hitoshi didn’t crash into her and send her nearly toppling over. I didn’t want to think of the ways Akira’s smile would fade. “I do,” I answered, “you’re keeping her safe no matter the personal cost, and I know I can’t stop you because you’re just like her. Your mind is made up, and there’s no changing it. She must’ve gotten a part of that from you.”
There was a moment of silence as a fond smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Despite her quirk being tied to shadows, the light in her eyes in that moment made the room feel like it was filled with sunlight. It was the same look Akira had from time to time when she was truly at peace. “Take care of her, Aizawa. All of them,” she pleaded, her voice softer and filled with a gentleness that had never been reserved for me before.
“I will,” I vowed. We understood each other in that way. Seirei and I didn’t do half-measures with the people we cared about. Akira, Hitoshi, Tenko, Hizashi—they were my reasons for breathing, and she understood it because Akira was hers.
“I mean it,” she insisted, her eyes hardening as they shone with something fierce. I saw something vulnerable in her for the first time since I’d known her. It was bizarre that it could very well be the final time I saw her, but I didn’t want to think of that. I didn’t want to think of a world without her despite how annoying and frustrating she could be. She was someone to Akira, which meant she was someone to me. “Things are going to get bad, and she’s going to be scared, and it’s…” her voice stalled as tears welled up in her eyes but didn’t fall. She didn’t cry in front of people. I remembered it from the hospital. “It’s…killing me that I won’t be here to hold her hand through it. You may not be able to stop me from leaving, but you have to stop her, and if I don’t come back…”
I shook my head, “don’t talk like that.” My voice came out sharper than I meant it to, but the thought of her not returning was almost unbearable, like somehow we’d managed to build an unbreakable bone despite our clear differences.
She pressed on, though, stubborn as ever. “Just…listen to me. If I don’t come back, please be good to her. You’re the only person I could ever trust with that,” she murmured, and as I opened my mouth to ask what the hell she was talking about, she smiled at my clear confusion and continued to speak. “You’ll understand what I mean someday,” she chuckled before turning back to face the door for just a moment.
The slight tremble in her shoulders told me what I didn’t need to see. She was crying. I wanted to close the space, to turn her around to face me so I could dry her tears the way I had to Akira so many times in the past. Seirei didn’t have that same gentleness, and she deserved it at least once before she left. Still, I stayed put, knowing that she wouldn’t have let me touch her anyway. She continued to speak, “Akira was my saving grace in this life. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to give up, how many times the nightmares of that basement called for me to do anything to stop them, but I didn’t give up because just the thought of her, the knowledge that she was out here somewhere breathing…it was enough to keep me going. We may not share blood, but she’s my sister in every way that counts. My world doesn’t turn without her, so please…keep her safe. She’s the hope in this world.”
She moved to open the door, and panic coursed through me. I stepped forward, “let me at least take you where you’re going,” I insisted, my voice coming out like a plea.
She snorted, turning back to face me, and I saw the tracks of her tears. She rolled her eyes, but there was a soft soft of affection under the bravado. Akira told me more times than I could count that it existed, that beneath the fire and fury that Seirei was, she had a big heart. “I’d rather crawl there on broken glass,” she shot back at me, covering up that big heart beneath that familiar fire once more, but it danced with a much more playful manner than it had before.
“Can’t even pretend to like me for what could be our last ever conversation,” I teased her, not sure if I was joking or pleading with her. There was a piece of me that didn’t remember what the world was like before she burst into that hospital room all those months ago. She had been in my life since Hitoshi came into my life, arriving only days after he did. She was there during my moments of fear that Akira could possibly never wake up after Hiza City. She was there as I took on the role of a father, and she supported me in the small ways, lecturing me about everything she could while helping me in her own way that was anything but gentle.
She was gentle with my son, though, and that was enough for me to consider her existence a gift.
She grinned, and for just a moment, I saw the girl she must’ve been before all the pain she’d endured, the girl she must’ve been before the basement. She had a dimple. She looked like a little girl for a moment, one who was afraid of the unknown, one who was still willing to do whatever it took to protect her sister. “You remind me of my older brother, Hikaru. He was a lot like you, one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met-”
“Wow, you’re really not holding-”
“And my best friend,” she finished with a smile, and my breath caught in my throat. I blinked, stunned for a moment, but then I noticed the tear that slid down her cheek. I couldn’t say anything. My words failed me as I witnessed the one thing she never allowed herself to do in front of me before: cry. The vulnerability of that moment wasn’t lost on me. Watching the tears stream down her cheeks as she forced a sad smile was distraction enough for me to not notice the way my eyes stung. The vision of her blurred as I felt the hot streaks on my own face. She’d never spoken of a brother before. “He wore his hair the same way,” she noted as if it explained everything we’d been through in our own strange friendship.
“Rei,” I murmured, stepping forward before I could stop myself. I wanted to say something, anything to comfort her. I wanted to pass along one final word of wisdom and watch her flip me off for it.
But she spoke before I could. “There are letters that I left with Endeavor. He’ll handle them if anything happens to me,” she explained, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she schooled her expression once more. My chest squeezed at the thought of receiving one of those letters. “Don’t let her our of your sight,” she insisted, echoing those words she’s uttered to me the night we all returned home, and she went back to the guest house Enji had prepared for her.
“I won’t. I swear it,” I promised, and I meant it. I’d carve that vow into my bones if she asked me to because Akira and Hitoshi were my family. Hitoshi was my son, and Akira was his mother. They were everything to me, so letting anything happen to them was unthinkable.
Her bottom lip quivered, and one final tear fell as she searched my eyes for something that she somehow managed to find. Whatever it was—faith, hope, reassurance—she found it. “And…take care of yourself, too, loser,” she smiled before holding up her middle finger.
I laughed, the sound coming out like a half-sob as I made the same gesture toward her.
“Right back at you.”
And then she was gone.