For whom the heavens may shine

Two matriarchs walked down a hallway. Atsushi Aoi and Atsushi Nabiki walked parallel to each other. They tried to distance themselves from each other as if the idea of getting close was harmful.

“You talked to "them". What they said about my daughter?” Nabiki asked Aoi with a dry voice, and she pushed down the frustrations and differences she had with Atsushi’s clan head.

Nabiki knew that listening to her grievances would do no good. Not now.

“Red Steel specialists have said that her quirk has changed somehow. Top to bottom.” Nabiki sneered as her heart filled with worry for her daughter.

Quirks were a sensitive subject. For one to change drastically was nearly unheard of. Nabiki’s heart raced, and her throat dried. Panic swept in, but she knew better than to let it have control.

Nabiki calmed herself with a drawn-out sigh. “So. What are those changes?” She questioned with a firm grip over her voice and emotions. She refused to show panic before Aoi.

“We can’t be sure. We can say that her regeneration is something else. We have found her heart and one of her lungs on the highway, and yet her chest had no signs it had been opened.” Nabiki flinched at Aoi’s words; words died in her mouth.

Orochi’s regeneration was nothing to scoff at, but it never was that strong— the type of regeneration that brought someone back from the brink of death.

Nabiki lost herself in her thoughts. Fear held her heart tight. She remembered how her daughter was the last time. ‘It could not be avoided? or did we fail our duties as parents?’

The state her daughter found herself in was something outside of anyone’s control? A cruel whim of fate? Had she and her husband failed to protect their daughter?

Nabiki dreaded the answer to that question.

Both matriarchs stopped before the hospital room’s door. Nabiki’s hands trembled, and her heart raced. She feared the state her daughter would be in. The last time, she was inconsolable.

For all of her experience and strength, Nabiki was not prepared to see her daughter hurt yet again. Nabiki knew the situation would not improve if she gave in to paranoia. She soldiered through her fears and grabbed the door knob.




Orochi rested against the room’s open window. She knew this would break some kind of hospital rule and that she should be resting, but she felt restless.

She felt light as a plume for the first time in a long time. No weight on her shoulders, no chains on her ankles.

Light as a dandelion dancing in a spring’s breeze, free to run through the mountains and cityscapes without worry.

She was free— freed from the darkness within her. ‘That’s fucked up.’ Orochi smiled sadly. Her classmate had died, and yet she could not bring herself to mourn his passing.

It happened a few hours ago, and yet it was so distant in her heart, a fleeting memory. Orochi should feel ashamed; herself from a few hours ago would be devastated. but she was not ashamed.

She resented Sandatsu for what he did. She wanted to avenge her classmate and everyone else. The Reaper wounded her, but the crushing sadness and melancholy of failure were not there.

Orochi had the strength to keep going, but was that really a good thing? To resist that sadness and the urge to blame herself for failing to protect Genma?

(Come the dawn’s sickly light)
(Or a wicked storm)
(And even a cruel night—)

(There will be a rainbow at the end of every journey.)
(There will be a rainbow at the end of every journey.)
(There will be a rainbow at the end of every journey.)

Orochi scoffed lightly at the echoing voices in her head. “Since when have you guys become so talkative?”

Her right Hydra rested above her hand, her middle one rested its head on her shoulder, and the left one wrapped around her left arm.

They were not in the mood to answer her. Orochi sighed and looked at the rising sun. Its glow was gentle and warm.

Orochi was at peace, even if she thought she hadn’t earned it, but now she could not control how her heart felt.

She grabbed a handful of her hair. Her left hydra hissed in disapproval, but Orochi ignored it.

“It is red now, huh?” Not the shade of red Umi and Rosethorn had either. Her hair had a slightly purplish red shade.

Her scales were tougher and rougher now, metal-like in appearance. She concentrated on a single scale over her hand, and it grew. It became heart-shaped but with sharp edges.

Orochi took out the scale with a pluck, holding it between her fingers. She had much to figure out.

Orochi heard the door open behind her and turned around. Her mother and aunt were there. “Hi!” She smiled sweetly.




Winged Step

Edit Report
Pub: 13 Jul 2024 21:44 UTC
Edit: 13 Jul 2024 21:45 UTC
Views: 399