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Her dreams came back.
She woke up with exhausted breaths and sweat trickling down her back in a panic. She nearly fell over her bed again. It was the 4th night in a row of seeing his face again— angry, furious, and desperate. She couldn’t understand why, why all this was happening now.
Instead of closing her eyes again, forcing her body to sleep, Eri got out of the bed and dazedly walked to her bathroom. She turned on the lights with a flick, and stared at her reflection. Her exhausted eyes and unkempt hair was worse than she presumed.
Looking at herself, an ordinary teenager stared back from the mirror, looking nothing like the tortured little kid rescued by kind heroes from horrid yakuza villains.
She couldn’t help but frown in frustration.
Everyone had moved on, because she was the one who told everyone she had moved on as well. She was as happiest as she could be, and had a family and loving friends, something she never could’ve comprehended had she never had a chance.
Everyone was proud of her for being so brave, for moving on so fast.
What the hell was wrong with her? She asked herself inside, as her reflection only seemed to deteriorate into that scared little girl every time she blinked.
It was… so unfair. It was as if all of this— what she was supposed to get help for at seven— was finally opening up nearly a decade later. Why was she so late?
She was starting highschool, she had a band, she blended in with everyone else for years. She made friends who were normal.
Eri slept in peace for years, after suffering the first month sleeping through nothing but countless nightmares and night terrors in the UA dormitories. As a child, no one—between Izuku, Mirio, Mr. Aizawa— had ever referenced or discussed anything regarding the Hassaikai, the yakuza, or Hari or Kai in front of her. It had been years now, and they still never did.
And that helped.
At the time, at least.
Maybe it helped too much in a way, because Eri started acting like any other normal little girl within that month. She fit right in. After that month, Eri never suffered in her head either.
She remembered how Mandalay was almost concerned by this when she took Eri in after the war. Eri remembered her confusion at how someone like her could seem so normal— eat so normal, sleep so normal, cry so normal.
Eri felt indifferent towards the yakuza. The way she moved with ease was seen as an accomplishment, something special about her and something truly great about her.
But it wasn't an accomplishment when she simply “skipped” that phase of adjusting with ups and downs, countless struggles and hours of true help and guidance. When she randomly just switched into a new persona, the ordinary girl she wanted to be so badly but couldn't.
Eventually, as she grew into her own person and years went by from two years, 4 years, and suddenly 8 years marking the shift to the presence of heroes, Eri felt as though she was always under the care of Mandalay all her life.
It became easier and easier to imagine that.
Until suddenly this week. A string of countless nightmares rang in her head all night.
Eri was so close to forgetting that part of her life. She was so frustrated, frustrated at herself for constantly wanting to remember.
Now, the mirror fully reflected that tiny scared girl back. That child was covered in bandages, sunken eyes and plain white rags that barely resembled a proper dress.
That child form of herself seemingly continued to stare dead into Eri’s eyes now, as a teen girl ready to start her life.
Her head hurt.
She flicked off the light switch to the bathroom and walked back to her bedroom, practically falling into her bed.
Eri hated herself for having nightmares again, 8 years later when she completely stopped after the first month of adjusting. She knew it was irrational to believe she fully healed and adjusted, that she was fully happy and regular. But she was living that dream come true ever since the end of the war.
No Hari, no Kai, and not her grandfather, who passed away only a year after waking up from his coma.
Eri hardly remembered him anyway— no, that wasn't right.
Her memory was foggy, but she distinctively recalled the day he introduced her to Kai. She had been awfully shy, sitting on the bed with a headache and fuzzy memory of what she had done. That she deserved to have her real Mom leave forever after what she’d done to Dad, a man she couldn't remember at all.
She was about three, so of course Eri couldn't understand the words her dear, ever so sweet Grandpops told Kai when he told her to look after her; but she remembered how she, Hari and Kai interacted.
Toddler Eri hadn’t said a word in shyness, but she looked up at two men standing confident and imposing. Kai was always in front, Hari was always a few steps behind him.
“Hi… I’m Eri,” She had practically whispered while rubbing her eye as she introduced herself to Kai, who she first mistaken him as her new ‘Dad’ after her own was gone. “…What do I call you?”
This part of her memory was almost crystal clear. Eri could play it out like a movie in her head while looking up at the ceiling of her room.
So she even remembered her confusion the moment the experiments began. She had cried for the rest of the night, sobbing into Hari’s shoulder as he took her back to her damp room and stayed there next to her until she slept with tears in her eyes.
But she would soon realize there was no use in sobbing to him, because Hari didn’t stop the experiments. That first night, Eri was convinced it was a mistake, that Kai made a mistake when he hurt her.
“From now on, you’re doing just as I say. Stay quiet and this will go by quickly.” He said, leading her to a metal chair with dim lights. She looked up at him, about to open her mouth when he interrupted, “Like I said, stay quiet. Listen to what people say instead of speaking your thoughts.”
She sat in that cold metal chair for the first time, and then she died.
And came back alive.
She was barely even a kid, still could be considered a toddler when she cried her eyes out. She looked up at Kai, and he looked back in disgust at the mess she was.
To think she had looked at Hari in desperation, to continue to believe it was all a mistake and that he and Kai would talk it out, and nothing would happen and Kai would say sorry and help her. But then came the second round, and third, and so on.
That instance was her first nightmare out of four that happened all in a row.
But it didn’t mentally bother her to hear that her grandfather had passed back when she was only eight. Izuku hesitantly told her that day, like he was scared of what her reaction would be. That was the first time anything related to the Hassaikai was mentioned in front of her, and even that was said in casual quickness, before everyone moved again and a different conversation spurred.
For a split second, Eri thought about Kai, and what his face would have looked like, hearing that in Tartarus. He probably cried. Not probably, he surely would have broken down sobbing, or not show any reaction at all. No in betweens. She wasn’t sure what to think of that.
Nobody cared anymore. They liked seeing Eri happy, but everyone moved on from the Hassaikai. It was 8, maybe 9 years, so she couldn’t blame them. But everyday, as the sun rose and the light peaked through the windows, everyday as a new day came over and another day of school, she thought about how Kai was still sitting in Tartarus and Hari was about an hour away in another prison. They were completely forgotten and would be forgotten until they passed, and Eri would get a quick notice before forgetting them herself as she got older.
They would show up as nightmares every so often, but that would be the only reminder left of them.
That following afternoon, after school and band, Eri visited UA. With the sweet buns Shino gave her to send as a gift for the teachers she’ll meet, she opened the door with a grin.
“Hey, Mr. Aizawa!” She exclaimed, her beaming smile illuminating the room as she walked in with a wave. “I’m here!”
Aizawa looked up and his eyes lit up immediately seeing her again. “Eri! It’s good to see you again.”
As he got up from his desk and approached her, Present Mic, seeing Eri enter, also walked up to them in glee with a bright smile, “Sup, Eri! Glad to see you’re still visiting us!”
Her mind eased seeing so many familiar faces and people again. She almost wished to back out from bringing her past up to not sour the mood so quickly and burden them, but she told herself loud and clear this was the day she’ll ask.
Eri didn’t tell anyone about the resurgence of nightmares, so she kept telling herself that the nightmares will die down once she gets closure. Nobody told her anything, so she was willing to learn and talk today.
“Wow, look how much you’ve grown! Up top?” Present Mic commented, and brought his hand up for a high five. Eri high fived him back. “Down low?”
His hand was lower facing upward, and Eri tried her best to quickly get him off guard but failed again as his hand effortlessly dodged her high five effort. Eri jokingly groaned as he bursted out laughing.
“Anyways,” Eri brought the bag of sweet buns up to them. “Shino said to give these to you as a ‘thanks’ for looking after Kota! Fresh sweet buns!”
Aizawa received the bag with a small smile.
“Oh, Eri! You’re here!” All Might greeted, waving as he passed by.
With a small nod, Eri gave her respects, “Hello, Vice Principal!"
Aizawa looked back at Eri with a sigh. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way, Midioriya’s schedule today is packed, he’s not here right now.”
As much as Eri wanted to see Deku and ask him about anything else he knew about the Hassaikai, she understood, but still dramatically sighed in disappointment, “ Awwww I came all this way to see Deku!”
“But good news! You invited Midoriya over to your street debut this weekend, right? He was so excited! Talking about how he got invited all day!” Present Mic added to cheer her up.
Just as Eri was about to respond, however, Aizawa tapped her shoulder to get her attention.
“Kid, have you been sleeping okay?” He asked in worry, staring at her features. “Your eyes look tired—Don’t lie, I know exhaustion when I see it.”
Last night nightmares weren't treating her well at all when it came to obviousness. Eri wanted rhe street debut conversation to drag out longer with Mic, but since Aizawa was practically asking her to explain, she had to go straight to the point.
Eri frowned a little, but tried to maintain the same bubbly tone as she replied, “I’ve actually been having trouble sleeping lately, It’s just nightmares… about the Hassaikai, about before.”
She really wished the room’s energy hadn’t shifted from bright and sunny to serious and cold all of a sudden. Now Aizawa looked entirely concerned and Present Mic dropped his smile. Of course, since Eri had never brought them up herself, they would treat it like this. But still, Eri felt more than uncomfortable with the tense room.
She tried to lift up the mood herself with a smile, just wanting to treat the conversation as normal as possible, “I was, um, actually here to ask about them! My… Mom, she was raised there, I just…”
Eri failed to finish her sentence, not sure where to go with that. But they were still listening.
“I can’t get them out of my head. It’s— It’s all I’ve been able to think about, I can’t get Hari out of my head, I can’t get the experiments, my room, the toys, the blood, the bullets—“
“Eri!” Aizawa stopped her, “Calm down, it’s okay.”
It was silent for a moment, before Eri started again.
“…I know, it’s just, I thought I moved on years ago.”
Present Mic turned to Aizawa. “Shota, we have some time to spare, right? About 10 minutes?”
Aizawa looked at the clock and nodded. Mic turned back to Eri, smiling this time, “There’s a break room down the hall, you can talk to us about anything.”
Once stepping into the break room, Eri put her instrument down to the side and sat on the couch next to Aizawa and Mic. They waited casually and comfortably, patiently for her to speak her mind.
Now that Eri was actually talking about this, did it feel unreal.
“I really appreciate both of you for doing this, I’m sorry for bothering,” she said. It was the easiest thought that came to her mind.
Mic leaned in and Aizawa blinked, responding, “Eri, you’re never bothering us when it comes to talking about matters like this.”
She nodded along, her hands subconsciously fidgeting.
“Besides,” Present Mic added, his warm smile making his words bigger, “It’s not unusual for… things in the past… to come back up like this all over again. I try not to show it, but I get nightmares from time to time about things I felt guilty about, things I’ve done wrong and people I’ve lost.”
And Eri knew, knew that anyone with burdens from the past will always get reminded either way throughout all their lives, but she simply didn’t know how to respond to it.
“About Chisaki,” Eri began, and both heroes seemed to grimace at his name, but hid it by repositioning how they sat. The information of Tartarus inmates is never disclosed to the public web besides who’s currently serving time, “He’s, he’s still alive, right?”
Aizawa looked down. He stayed silent for a second before answering with a short “Yes.”
She subconsciously asked again. She didn’t know if all of this was for her closure or simply curiosity at this point. Eri shouldn’t be curious, she should’ve forgotten years ago. From the upset visages of Mic and Aizawa, it was clear they hoped she would’ve forgotten him too.
“What is he like?”
Aizawa looked back up at her. “What is he like?” He repeated.
“I, um. Nevermind.” Eri brushed off quickly. It was a stupid question that came to mind, like she was a kid again.
But Present Mic looked to the side at Aizawa, a look that read ‘should I tell her?’ Like something had happened between the day Eri was saved and now. Aizawa glanced at his friend, back at Eri, and after a second, nodded.
Mic said in the most professional tone ever, excluding any of his usual expressions in his words. “Kai Chisaki has been physically disabled since his arrest. It’s not really public, since it’s mainly just stored in Hero and Tartarus databases.”
Eri raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. “Physically disabled?”
He indicated his right elbow joint with his left hand, putting a hand sideways over it to depict a ‘chop’ motion. “Both arms, up to the elbow. He’s been rendered quirkless for 8 years now.”
Aizawa sighed, putting down the cup of coffee he was holding up ever since Eri arrived on the small glass table. He remained silent, letting Mic do all the talking. He seemed to look between his friend and her, just observing her reaction to see if she was okay throughout.
Eri… she didn’t know how to react again. It was as if she would be pretending if she were relieved, or saddened, or anything. She should be glad. But she didn’t feel any contrasting emotions.
It’s understandable nobody said anything back then, and only willing to tell her anything since she asked.
“So, he’s sitting there right now, armless and trapped in a cell as we’re talking.” Eri said. It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement.
Present Mic tilted his head in confusion as to the odd response, but eventually just settled with a nod.
Eri couldn’t ever see Kai again. She never wanted to, she wanted to forget and pretend that segment of her life never existed. But to think a man as precise and cruel as he was to her, sitting in a small box all day with no light, interactions or movement for himself, she wouldn’t call it irony, she wouldn’t call it karma, she just didn’t know what to think of it.
Hari appeared more in her nightmares than Kai. Hari was nothing but Kai’s subordinate, Eri knew now, but how she thought of him back then, it was as if she was pleading with her eyes for Hari to save her, like she believed Hari was willing to help her— just because he stayed beside her in silence until she was comfortable enough to sleep.
That didn’t mean anything. But the little Eri back then wished so hard it would, just because Hari was nice to her at one point, like he actually cared. But he didn’t. He was a substitute Father figure before Aizawa and Mandalay, and actual good people willing to help arrived.
Now, she didn’t know what to think of Hari at all.
“Hari Kurono,” Eri started again to the two. Aizawa and Mic leaned in to listen, but they didn’t instantly recognize his name. “… How is he?”
“He sounds familiar, you said Hari Kurono?” Aizawa repeated. He glanced at Mic but to no avail, his friend simply shrugging.
“Oh, um, Chronostasis. The villain with arrows.” She clarified. Mic had never heard of that name, but Aizawa certainly remembered, leaning back with a small ‘oh.’
But Aizawa looked back at Eri, curious as to why. “Chronostasis. I haven’t heard of him since his arrest.”
“Oh, right.” Eri abruptly said.
She didn’t want to just end it all there, though. Aizawa had always guided and aided her during her stay at UA. Present Mic was always someone willing to listen as well. Maybe if she could, talk more about herself rather than continuous questions, they could understand?
“He was,” Eri never talked about her experiences to anyone beforehand. “He was the only person that took care of me. He— he didn’t care about me, at all, actually, but he was the only…”
Talking about it only made Eri despise him more. She tried not to show it, but her voice kept stumbling over words as she talked faster, “He was just ordered to care, and I don’t understand— I don’t understand him, or why he did that, why he always pretended, I just don’t get Hari when he acted like he loved me like his kid when he was just—“
Present Mic tried to intervene, but Aizawa pushed him back, letting her continue. Her hands gripped the sweet bun bag tighter.
“Kai was ripping me apart in there, he was ripping me apart and all I could think was how it was all my fault that I couldn’t bleed out ‘properly’ for him, how disgusted I was at myself, thinking it was the natural way of things for people with exceptional quirks that he told me everyday in that facility… and Hari and everyone else just didn’t care?”
Yet the more she shared, the more it came back— and now she was frustrated at this as well. Everyone universally agreed that sharing it out to someone would heal everything on your mind, but it clearly wasn’t working as she just continued on and on, how she kept thinking to herself that shouldn’t be losing it like this, but Eri couldn’t help it as she just talked and words flowed,
“It wasn’t until Deku and Mirio and you all had to explicitly tell me basic moralities like how.. child torture is fucking wrong—“ Eri slightly laughed at the absurdity as she rapidly rubbed her eyes. “My Mom, my real mom actually grew up with Kai and Hari, but she despised everything about that yakuza family, she hated her grandpops, and then she hated me— I don’t get anything at all about my own family I was born into. And I know I shouldn’t— I already know that, but I just can’t help but think about them every night I go to bed and every time I go to sleep.”
At this point, Aizawa was seated next to her, his hand on her back in an attempt to calm her down. Present Mic was still seated opposite of her, but she had his full attention as he was still leaning forward.
“I’m sorry I keep rambling like this, I don’t think I’ve ever rambled, and that’s not normal for someone who got saved from experiments and yakuza, I don’t get why I’m suddenly doing this all now. It's been 8 years, but it all just bubbled up when I thought I was done with them. I am done with them, but I don’t know, I still hate Hari, I hate Kai, I hate grandpops, my mom, Shin, and— and now I’m at the point where I don’t remember anyone else but I can’t stand my own thoughts that are working against me to make me remember—“
Eri stumbled over her words again, and she didn’t even realize until now that her nails had been scratching into the couch seat, ruining the sofa leather.
She immediately put her hands to herself. Eri felt nothing but embarrassment, guilt, and a stronger presence of the Hassaikai in her head. Like it just grew instead of disappearing as she so wished it would. “I’m so sorry, god, I don’t know what got over me.”
Aizawa still had his hand over her back as he gently spoke to her, “Eri, listen to me.”
Eri looked up at him, her eyes watery and swelled. Present Mic handed over a tissue box to her.
“You’re at a period in your life where you’re undergoing so much change right now. You're starting high school, you’re preparing for a big show this weekend, you have a whole musical career ahead of you, and all the while you’re still adjusting to everyday life.”
She brought her guitar case closer to her. She nodded at Aizawa’s words as he continued on,
“Memories, past events, people from the past, they can easily resurface again at any point in your life. Maybe you’ve heard this a million times in the past, but they’ll do anything to stay in your head, to stay fogged up all day in there.”
Eri grabbed another tissue from the box and blew her nose. It wasn’t like she never cried in front of Aizawa, but it felt more than anything else she had cried over the past.
This time, Present Mic spoke up with a little smile again, “Hey, you just have to remember where you are now. But you can’t just lock away your old self like that at the same time.”
Eri didn’t say anything back to them. She understood what they meant. They were as kind as ever to her again. She picked up her guitar case and slinged it over her shoulder.
She didn’t… feel anything again. In her head, before she stepped in here, Eri marked the day as the day she’ll get the closure she needed, asking all the right questions and clearing her head.
Instead, Eri couldn’t help but feel as though she wasted everyone’s time, including her own. Her eyes were still swollen and her face was sunken and sad again.
She had to forget and move on. She had to forget and move on. She did so all so easily as a kid. Did she trick herself into thinking she forgot?
Walking out of the break room and to the front doors of UA, she got a couple waves from some of the other teachers there as the three of them walked to the exit doors. Cementoss got her attention, pointing at the TV where the news reporter excitedly commented on Deku and Bakugo, going on about them as they swung through the screen across buildings.
“The One For All Hero: Deku! Climbed up to Top 4 with unprecedented hype! And Great Explosive Murder God Dynamite is catching up, making a huge leap to Number 5! Lemillion and Mt. Lady are not too far behind! We just got them rushing to the scene, though arguing like crazy! Drama between heroes sure is tense!”
Eri, looking up at the screen, made her first smile since going to the break room with Aizawa and Present Mic.
She was happy for them.
Lemillion and Deku, two heroes who fought with their lives just to help her escape Kai. (In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but think, was it selfish of her? Selfish of her to waste Erasurehead and Present Mic’s time just so she could talk about the yakuza 8 years later? When she acted fine for so long?)
The Kai in her head surely did.
And Hari, regardless of what he personally thought, would have agreed with him. Because he cared too much, an emotional and sympathetic man— so much so that he had done and stood by the torture of a 7 year old who did nothing but weep next to him in her room all night. Ironically, all because he cared too much for people.
Aizawa and Present Mic wished her goodbye with a hug, and Eri left UA, took the subway, and arrived back at Mandalay's home, where Kota opened the door, telling her to get ready for dinner as her foster Mother cooked rice and soup.
So Eri talked about her exciting street debut happening this weekend to the two, and Kota talked more about UA, complaining about the amount of homework and training required. They laughed, and went about their day, before it was time for bed again.
As Eri brushed her teeth, looking at herself in the mirror, the little frightened 7 year old Eri from yesterday night reflected back again. Instead of standing there, lost in thought like yesterday, Eri turned off the switch, slipped into bed and looked up at her room ceiling again.
She still didn’t know what to make of her visit to UA a few hours before. Her mind stopped processing thoughts, like she was on auto pilot mode the moment she stepped out of UA grounds.
So, rather than going ahead and thinking of all the questions, all the why’s and all the thoughts swirling and scrambling her head, of all the people who appeared for days on end, Eri turned on the lights.
She unzipped her guitar and set up her stand. Reading the notes for her upcoming debut stage concert, Eri gripped the neck of the guitar with her left hand as she adjusted her posture. Ignoring everything else and everyone else, she did nothing but make her mind focus dead onto each individual note.
There’s nothing else besides the current moment, there’s no thoughts and no people.
Guitar and hands ready, Eri played out her entire part, over and over again. Each time getting more intense, more rapid, more harsh.
She played for hours, going through multiple songs and repeating them over and over again.