❛...Follow me...follow me.❜
Short chapter.
It didn't feel like his goodnight paid off, she still felt awake. Lucid dreaming is scientifically explained as your consciousness slipping into your dreams, causing a surreal experience. It all started as eerie whispers that bounced around the black void, but it progressively raised the volume from whispers to murmurs, murmurs to mumbles, and so on. To the point where it was bone-chilling screams and cries, desperately demanding to follow.
Yet who was 'me'? Follow me, follow me, follow me, a repetitive chant announced thoroughly. She couldn't gasp her head around it even while her feet moved against the black water surfacing the void, even when she kept her eyes wide and attempted to source the whispers.
That's when she saw it. When the once whispers turned to screams, her eyes slightly narrowed on a small pebble of light. It almost felt like a surge of relief cast around the void as her feet paddled against the rising water, now up to her ankles. She doesn't have much time, she has had a lucid dream like this plenty of times before.
When the water rises, a traumatic visual or memory is displayed through flashes and blinks, she can only shut her eyes as cries of agony erupt and echo. She has never experienced one like this before, one of begs and pleas to follow, desperate for her to source the troubles.
So she trudged through the rapidly rising waters, wetting and soaking her skin as she ran and ran, never-ending even when surges of cries from other areas of the void erupted. Her breath was shaky, she was trembling ever so slightly as the light neared her more, illuminating her soaking and divine face and the hair that lined it.
What does it mean? What does it mean to see warm lighting and the reflection gleaming against the black water? Her eyes glared into the scene in front of her, why must she follow? Why must she go there?
Why is it that when she reached her destination, panting and soaked, she is found staring at her childhood home? Her childhood home that the whispers and pleas led her to, why should she follow?
She was left dumbfounded, even when her body shot forward and she awoke from the nightmare. Her fingers trembled and her heart raced, sweat trickling down her forehead causing the area to become hot. She felt uncomfortable in her own body, her hands shot forward and onto her hair, clutching it harshly with rapid breaths. Why does she follow? What does it mean? What even just happened?
The time read 3 AM, and she couldn't help but quickly open the window to let fresh air in. It nearly felt calming, the way the cold atmosphere surged in and coated her face. Her breaths were slowly calming, but regardless, she stepped from the window and up onto the roof panels. It was breezy, enough to maneuver through her locks and deliver a surge of relief.
It needs to stop happening, she knows that someday it'll end. At this point, she is also aware that it's not normal to be used to it. But though she suffers from nightmares and odd interactions, she continues as if they didn't occur.
He couldn't sleep, his window slightly opened to let the cold breeze in. Normally he is fast asleep at 8, but after what happened at the USJ and with [name], he can't. The only explanation for his state is that he can't. It also doesn't help with the multiple texts coming in from the class 1A group chat, which makes his phone ding so often that his annoyance got the best of him and he ended up switching it to Do not Disturb.
He groans, flopping around angrily in his bed and aggressively shutting his eyes. Why the fuck didn't she recognize him? What happened today...why is she so strong? It enrages him, he can't get ahold of the answers and he so desperately needs them.
He was so stuck in thought, but he sensed the interruption and noise from outside. Bakugo Katsuki's ears perked up, attempting to locate where the noise came from only to be met by silence. It was he that grew tensed, slowly and quietly flopping toward the window once again and looking through it. The noise happened to be the sound of landing, two feet plopping down nearly quietly but he only picked up on it because the jump must have come from afar.
When he gazed out the glass from afar and sat on his bed, he faced her old house. The familiar rooftop he found her at nearly every day, and the familiar exterior but the landscaping surrounding it was slightly untrimmed and grown wild.
The building happened to be abandoned, and people often paid their respects to it as the famous pro hero and his family once lived there. His neighborhood happened to be quite popular, nobody paid mind to the untamed and preserved building. He concluded that he should ignore the noise, shutting his eyes ever so slightly.
It was dark, pitch black and he couldn't even see his palms. Bakugo sunk into the darkness, his eyes remained shut and he buried his head into the embrace of his pillow.
Darkness doesn't conceal light completely, sometimes with eyes shut, it is noticeable if there is a change in lighting. He noticed too, he noticed a light flicker from afar. Yet it was bright enough to reach his bedroom window, which happened to be across from hers.
With one eye shut, he cautiously met with the light. It didn't sting, it was dim yet warm. And it appeared from her bedroom window. He knew she was alive, but she wouldn't and couldn't be home. She is staying with Aizawa, so why does he notice her shadow from the drawn curtains? Bakugo furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the view ahead. His body lay sideways as he slowly drifts his arm upward, preaching his face against it yet still gazing at the shadow.
It was so familiar, yet she couldn't sense why the voices of her dreams led her here. Why did they showcase her childhood home? Is she delusional? Why would she follow a voice in her dream? Simply because she is bored and intrigued, her only reasoning behind why she stood in her childhood bedroom and gazed at every drawing and every nostalgic item.
Light baby blue walls, a small white headboard that a mattress lay against, decorations upon decorations as well as two boards that caught her eye. Most furniture was white trimmed and simple, but the colorful toys sat in a small box in the corner of the bedroom. When she peered at the desk, she recognized the faces printed against the board above it.
There were plenty of photos, it was a collage yet every photo was separately placed. Birthday photo with Katsuki and Izuku, she found herself placing it in her pocket. A photo of her mother and father holding her sleeping self, she took all of it. Every memory and every photo, she gently placed a stack in her large pockets like a thief.
It was late at night, some would say morning, but she needed to source what led her here. So while she quietly stepped through the modern Japanese home, she gazed at every familiar room until she could find what the voices wanted her to witness.
Normally, she would have never come here. She swore to herself, that when the trip down to memory lane would occur, it would be far from the present. Yet now she can't help but beat her curiosity for leading her here, nearly every sight brought memories upon memories.
The numb girl ignored the rain that beat against the ceiling, the drops causing a melody of rhythms were nothing to her as she opened the living room door. Deprived of her sensations from being stuck in thought, she didn't realize the old sinking blood current from the upper level of the building. But when she did, she took a step back cautiously. It was brown from its old state, with a molded shape of it on the ceiling.
The last state she ever remembered, though it was a long time ago, was sitting on the pavement and the screams of her mother and father arguing. The only reason she was up there in the first place was to escape, so of course she didn't pay mind to what was happening.
She didn't pay mind, so it took her by surprise when she saw the old blood. She could only retort by frowning slightly, her steps quietly resonating through the abandoned building as she forced her way up the wooden stairs.
House was fairly large, Father made good money by being a hero and it just so happened to be plenty of stories. It was quite modern and would have been in good condition if it weren't for the time it consumed alone. [Name] Tahashi remembers the layout well, and above the living room happened to be a room she was always locked from.
Her fingers traced the doorknob, hesitating on its pull. She couldn't back out now, [name] believes that she has reached her destination.
Witnessing that would leave anybody emotionally scarred. And for [Name] Tahashi, it did. It left a large scaled scar internally, seeking and bleeding through her insides.
An important role to remember, scars fade. Do they completely heal? No, they don't happen to do so. Wounds heal, but this was no wound.
#------NEXT DAY, U.A. HIGH
Aizawa Shouta must like suspense and leading his students on because once they all sat down he started with "Your fight isn't over." Of course, when hearing that, one must assume that he means the fight between villains. That must take a toll on everybody else, but [Name] Tahashi was already aware of such. He left those to glance around in scare, suspense confusing the bunch.
"--The U.A. sports festival is upcoming." He soon added and it seemed that the majority simultaneously exhaled. [Name] Tahashi sat in the right back corner of the room, behind a purple-haired short male and next to a dual-haired male. She was seat #20, left to herself as she boredly rested her divine face against her palm. While those around seemed to cheer, she ignored the bickering and gazed out the window.
She was so stuck, stuck in repairing the mental scar and toll caused by what she witnessed. She normally wouldn't be as shocked by sight, she's familiar with blood and gore. But the only problem, the only reason it stuck with her like glue, was because of how inhuman it was.
Where ever her quirkless mother, daughter of Nana Shimura, found that monster of a father, it had to be from hell.
If only her mother knew that the once pro hero would be the cause of her demise, she would have never married him. She would have never thought to give birth to his daughter, never even imagined the portal to hell he just so happened to erupt on the family.
The now cursed family, the one that used to hold multiple pro heroes and powerful beings. Nana Shimura, holder of One for All. Her forgotten quirkless daughter, who would have birthed a less powerful being if it wasn't for the curse she married.
And the ungodly, unsaintly sight [Name] Tahashi witnessed was one to leave an instability. So while her classmates cheered and giggled, cast by excitement, [Name] stared out the window in displeasure. Remembrance, flickers of the disgusting member of her family, her dead father.
Who just so happened to be alive.
Breathing, with a heart pulp. Living, striving, alive.
When she witnessed such, she stood still, fists clenched and pupils dilated.
Alive.
Breathing.
Organs casting his support and keeping him alive. Keeping him breathing.
Then and there, when she saw it, rage captivated her soul.
The organs, will rip and tear out.
The breathing will and must stop.
His living will and must end.
And she will be the one to end it.
When she saw it, it was like a spear through the heart. That spear happened to be the seek of revenge, happened to be the swear and plea to bring that male to his knees.
To his end.
He will get his karma.
"Goodnight, [Name]..."