Clouded Mirror

James Cain Esquire rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was sitting in a drab white-walled government office. An old battleax of an immigration officer sat across from him. The name on the door told those poor souls foolish enough to seek entry into the US that her name was Ms. Stevens. Despite the woman’s severe demeanor, she was little more than a rubber stamp for married couples seeking entry.

“Sometime in March? Dunno, I just let SM tell me when it’s coming up.”

Well… she should be a rubber stamp. Next to James, seemingly oblivious to the growing irritation of the woman who would decide her visa status, was his wife Hitomi. She wore the same mile-wide smile she always wore when meeting new people.

Ms. Stevens ground her teeth. “How long did you say you two’ve been married?” She challenged.

“A little over a year! Right honey?”

James nodded stiffly. This wasn’t supposed to be an interrogation, just some basic questions. However, James had forgotten something critical to his wife’s character--

“And where was your husband born?”

“San Francisco!”

--HER. MEMORY. WAS. SHIT!

“… Boston.” James gently corrected.

“OH! Damn... really?! I could’ve sworn--”

Ms. Stevens sighed. James could almost feel her reaching for the rejected stamp. “And when’s the last time you saw your spouse’s parents?”

James flinched. Bile rose. Hitomi had never met his parents. She’d never had a chance to-- White walls. Blood splattered blue curtains. His father rattled. His mother was still. A horrible monster dressed in blue dragged James away.-- He started to tremble.

Hitomi grabbed James’s hand. She glared at the interviewer. The room chilled.

Ms. Stevens, sensing the abrupt change in mood, looked up. Her eyes met Hitomi’s. She shrank.

“In the future.” Hitomi began. Her words froze the air. “Do enough research to avoid insensitive questions.”

Ms. Stevens looked like a gasping fish as she tried to regain her composure under Hitomi’s glare. She did better than most villains. “I… apologize if what I said was insensitive to your situation.” She managed stiffly.

Hitomi frowned. She looked at James to see if he was okay with that apology. James nodded his acceptance.

“It’s all right,” James said, his composure regained. Hitomi relaxed at his words. She turned back to Ms. Stevens but didn’t let go of James’s hand.

“What…” Ms. Stevens gathered herself. The interview wasn’t over and one landmine wasn’t enough to stop the wheels of the almighty bureaucracy. “What do you do for a living Mrs. Cain?”

“I’m a professional hero,” Hitomi answered affably, the slight against her husband already forgotten.

“Really?” Ms. Stevens was incredulous. James couldn’t blame her. Hitomi, his good-humored waif of a wife, was the antithesis of what you thought of when you heard the word ‘hero.’ “You’re a hero?”

“Mhm, I go by ‘Miracle.’” Hitomi looked at James. She smiled warmly. James felt his cheeks color at that smile. Married over a year and he still felt like she wasn’t real. “Hero work’s how we met actually.”

“Erm, that leads to my next question.” Ms. Stevens admitted. “How DID you two meet?”

“Hostage situation.” Hitomi’s smile grew. James remembered the day well. “Mr. Tall, dark and hot over here was the hostage. Something to do with his bosses being assholes. Anyway, I swoop in. He sees me and he says--”

James looked away. He knew what was coming. Hitomi poked him in the shoulder. “Say it.”

“Huh?” Ms. Stevens looked between them bewildered. James kept his mouth shut. Hitomi’s jabs intensified. Of all the things she remembered--

“Pleeeaase~”

James sighed. “It’s a miracle.”

“HE SET ME UP FOR A ONE-LINER!” Hitomi squealed. She rested her head against James’s shoulder. “It was over for me then. I was in love.”

James blushed. That’d been the moment he fell in love too.

Ms. Stevens’s face was stone. She no longer suspected a sham marriage. She was just sick.

“I flubbed the line though.” Hitomi apologized. “‘I’m a she?’ Pretty lame for the setup you gave me.”

James shook his head.

“You were plenty cool.”

Hitomi giggled. James squeezed her hand. Poor Ms. Stevens and her interview were completely forgotten.

---

James woke up with a start. He was in his bed. It was dark outside. He didn’t feel the familiar weight next to him. He reached for her. He stopped. She wouldn’t be there. She hadn’t been for two years. He sighed and rolled on his side. He looked at the clock next to his bed. Merciless red numerals told James it was 0400.

“Damn,” James muttered. He rolled away from her side of the bed. He closed his eyes. He tried to sleep.

He failed.

A shadow flowed out of his room.

---

Christopher sat at the dining room table. A single light shone gently over his head. He was staring at a picture. It was the picture of his mother embracing Dr. Saraki. On the table, beneath the picture, was his mother’s Quirk Safety Certification. It was a certification he could not understand. This certification meant that Hitomi’s quirk was naturally dangerous. A quirk Christopher, as a child, loved to copy. A quirk he was ALLOWED to copy.

There were precious few pieces of information Christopher trusted about his mother. That he liked to copy her quirk was one such piece. The fact that he didn’t remember his mother was proof enough of that. Yet, if her quirk was dangerous, why had he been allowed to copy it?

Christopher knew his father would never have allowed him to copy a dangerous quirk. He couldn’t imagine his mother would’ve been any different.

Maybe she trained him? Christopher felt a wave of sorrow at the thought. How many hours of training and advice were lost forever? He shook his head. No. That couldn’t be it. Who would trust a child to have an adult’s discipline? But that left him at square one. He couldn’t reconcile that his mother needed training to use her quirk safely and that a child was allowed to copy her quirk.

Hitomi, the black dragon, yawned lazily as she padded up to the table from the direction of his room. She leaped up and nestled into Christopher’s shoulder. It was early. 0430 and Christopher hadn’t slept. Christopher, welcoming the distraction from his unsolvable questions, looked at Hitomi.

“Where’ve you been?”

Hitomi smiled mischievously.

Christopher scratched her chin. He quietly pondered how different Hitomi was from Gigan. Almost like the act of mirroring Gigan had changed the quirk--

‘Changed!’ Christopher’s eyes widened. He picked up the certification. He studied every word. Nowhere did it say Hitomi had received this certification due to training. It mentioned no qualifications at all. What if--

Christopher swallowed.

What if his mother didn’t receive this certification because she’d been trained? But because her quirk had changed?

Christopher stroked Hitomi’s head as he contemplated a possibility that would’ve never occurred to him. Could a quirk be changed? Could Saraki do THAT? If so… Christopher glanced at Hitomi, at the mirror he feared breaking... could he do it again?

The sound of his father’s door opening dragged Christopher out of his contemplation. Hitomi’s eyes fluttered open. James Cain entered the dining room rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He noticed Christopher with a mixture of surprise and relief.

“Christopher! What’re you doing up?”

Christopher shrugged. Hitomi curled around his neck. “Couldn’t sleep. You?”

---

James sighed. “Same.” He walked to the table and took a seat across from Christopher. He wished his son would get some sleep after the day he’d had. This was the third time in a year he’d gotten a call from Shiketsu. Every time his son had been seriously injured. James had barely done more than look at the caller ID before he started for home. He’d already steeled himself for an attempt to visit his son in the Hospital. It was a relief, when he finally answered his phone, to find out his son hadn’t needed a hospital stay for once.

James glanced at the picture his son was holding. It was of his wife when she was younger, a few years before they met. She was embracing an older man, one he recognized.

“Is that Saraki?” James wondered aloud.

“You know him?” Christopher questioned, suddenly guarded.

James frowned. He held out his hand. Christopher handed him the photo reluctantly. James studied the photo closer. This was the man Hitomi had introduced him to before their wedding. He even wore the same disinterested, vaguely annoyed, expression he’d had when James met him. Saraki didn't seem to care about Hitomi… until he agreed to walk her down the aisle. “Yeah, that’s him. He walked your mother down the aisle at our wedding. He was… odd. He was paranoid about having his picture taken. I’m surprised your mother had one.”

“Walked her down the aisle-- what was he to mom?!”

“I don’t really know. She told me she was able to be a hero because of him. I just assumed he was a teacher at UA or a hero.”

“…” Christopher looked at that picture of Saraki like a ghost.

“Is he not a hero?”

“He’s a director at the Quirk Registration Service. Supposedly he treats complex quirks.” Christopher recited as he always did when he’d recently discovered something new.

“I don’t know what ‘complex quirk’ means son.” James prodded.

“… it means a quirk that’s dangerous to use without specialized training.”

“Ah.” Maybe Dark Mirror would qualify as ‘complex.’

Though James had never been tempted to use that thing.

“Did…” Christopher steadied his breath. “Did Mom have trouble with her quirk?”

“Not that I’m aware of. When I met her, she was an underground hero, but you know that.”

Christopher averted his eyes. It was like he didn’t know that. Maybe he’d forgotten? Hitomi was always the one to tell stories about their past. Christopher always looked disinterested when his mother started to ramble.

“Was she scared when I copied her quirk?”

James thought for a moment. He remembered the first time his son had copied Hitomi’s quirk. Mother-in-law had been visiting…. “… well, yes, but to be fair you were trying to throw your grandmother out the window.”

“Oh.”

Hitomi HAD looked a bit more scared than was warranted, but James hadn’t questioned it. At the time, Hitomi was under investigation for killing Mongrel. She was emotionally and physically drained. They both were. Was it any wonder that she reacted worse than she should’ve?

“Did she train me?” Christopher asked.

James let out an involuntary ‘Ah.’ So that’s what this was about. It had been two years, was it any wonder Christopher was starting to forget details about Hitomi? He remembered when that started to happen to him with his parents. It was horrible. He’d wanted to walk off a bridge the morning he’d forgotten his mother’s face.

James looked at the certificate Christopher had been trying to hide. The certification of quirk safety from Dr. Saraki. He sighed. Christopher knew his mother would never let him use her quirk if it was dangerous. She didn’t even want him to be a hero. Yet, he’d copied her quirk so often. If it was hazardous, then she must’ve trained him. Yet, he couldn’t remember her initiating any training. Which was the right memory. Hitomi had never initiated any training.

Christopher was just afraid he’d forgotten time with his mother. Every moment must be so precious to the boy. Was it any wonder he was anxious?

“Any training you did with your mom was at your insistence.”

Christopher looked up blinking.

“Yes, but she never forced you to. If you recall, she tried to talk you out of it more than once.”

“She didn’t… she wasn’t worried about her quirk?”

“No.”

“Then, what about--” Christopher reached for the certificate. James held up his hand.

“I don’t know anything about that son. But it could be anything. You know her quirk produced electrostatic discharge, maybe it was a full-on EMP when she was younger? It doesn’t matter. What matters is… no matter what you’re forgetting--”

Christopher flinched. James smiled. “It’s okay son. It’s been 2 years, you’re bound to start forgetting some details.”

“Right,” Christopher said with more confidence than he clearly felt. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“It’s okay,” James whispered. “I understand.”

---

He didn’t.

---

“All you need to remember is this: she loved you. If her quirk was dangerous, you wouldn’t have been allowed to copy it, training or not. Understand?”

Christopher nodded numbly. He looked ill. He was probably having a hard time accepting that his memories might fade. James thought it was stupid to fear the loss of details. The important memories, the ones that shaped you as a person, could never be forgotten.

It was stupid, but… James sighed. Who was he to criticize how another man mourned? He, who still looked for his wife every night? He, who couldn’t walk into a Hospital 30 years after his parents died? He was weak. He couldn’t help his son be strong.

“I’m going back to bed.” James declared.

Christopher nodded stiffly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words. James smiled softly. He couldn’t help, but he could listen. “If you want to talk more, we’ll talk in the morning all right?”

“I’ll be fine Dad,” Christopher answered, perhaps too quickly. “Good night.”

“Good night.” James, with a yawn, returned to his room. He was determined to stay away from her side of the bed this time.

---

Christopher watched his father retreat back into his room. His heart pounded. His stomach was in knots. He’d almost told him. He’d wanted to confess. He should’ve… but he couldn’t. His words failed. Why could he tell Yui and Hoge but not his own father?!

Hitomi stroked his cheek. Christopher took a deep breath. There was something he learned from that talk though.

Christopher pulled out his phone and searched for the Quirk Registration Service’s HQ. It’d be hard to find, but if he didn’t sleep he’d probably get it done by morning. Worst came to worst, he’d ask Faith for help.

Christopher’s hand clutched the certificate. His mother hadn’t been scared when he used her quirk. She hadn’t thought he needed training to use it safely. That led Christopher to two possible explanations.

First: Her quirk’s difficulty was the unnatural result of personal trauma.

Second: Saraki changed her quirk.

Christopher hoped it was the second.