A Monstrous Premonition

Hitomi Hideyoshi hung off the edge of the desk. She kicked her legs against the air rhythmlessly.

“Boooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedddddddddddddddddd.” She droned.

“You’re the one who came here without an appointment.” Saraki countered. “Don’t you have friends?”

“Nope! You’re it!”

“… please say that with less joy.”

“Nope! You’re it!” Hitomi repeated. The difference was marginal.

Saraki sighed.

“It’s fine!” Hitomi leaped off the desk. “None of my classmates will pass the UA exam anyway. If I made friends now, I’d make them sad in March.”

“Why are you so confident you’ll pass?”

“You’re helping me, duh.”

Saraki sighed. “I’m not helping you to make you a hero--”

“I’m helping you so that you aren’t a danger to yourself or others.” Hitomi finished in a deep mocking baritone.

“Quite.” Saraki agreed.

“You can drop the line Doc.” Hitomi grinned. “We both know why you’re treating me.”

“Oh?”

Hitomi leaned forward, still grinning. “You’re in love with me~.”

Saraki’s face was stone. “Say that again in 3 years so I can call you flat.”

“Ack!” Hitomi gripped her (non-existent) chest as if struck. She fell backward prone on the ground. She gasped for air. Saraki continued writing as his patient writhed in pain.

“Don’t stay down there too long.” Saraki had swept this morning, but floors were never immaculate.

“I can’t get up, my heart’s shattered.”

“The floor’s dirty.”

“So? I don’t get sick.”

“I suppose your substandard test scores would explain your supernatural immunity.”

“… huh?”

Saraki sighed. Every time he tried to joke with this girl he had to draw a fucking map. “‘Stupid people don’t catch colds.’”

“Ooooo-- HEY!” Hitomi sat up again.

“If you don’t want to be called stupid, don’t be stupid.”

“Just for that, I’m not gonna tell you why you’re treating me!”

“I know why I’m treating you.”

“But I won’t tell you I know!”

“… why on Earth would I care about that?”

“Aren’t you upset that no one understands you? Don’t you stare out the window every night at the skyline wishing you could have SOMEONE to talk to?”

“… I’m not the protagonist of a manhwa written for middle-aged women, no.”

“How’d you know I was thinking about a manhwa?”

“Because you don’t have the attention span for a novel.”

“… why wouldn’t it be a manga?”

“Because your mother buys manhwa. You don’t have the opportunity to buy a manga. The young man who runs the closest bookstore is ‘really really really cute.’ You can’t be around cute boys. You stutter.”

“… I don’t know why I tell you things.”

“I wish you didn’t.”

“Ouch.” Hitomi could say nothing further, but she wouldn’t leave the conversation at that. She stayed up this time. She grabbed her feet with both hands. She began to rock back and forth, not allowing Saraki to forget she was there, but not being so disruptive that he could reasonably call her a nuisance.

Saraki tried to get back to work, but the curiosity was getting to him. Did Hitomi know? If she didn’t, what’d she think? He sighed.

“Why?”

“Hrm?” Hitomi inquired mischievously.

“Why do you think I’m treating you?”

Hitomi smiled widely. She was a child who knew a secret she didn’t fully comprehend. She gave an answer.

---

Christopher Cain studied the plain white facade of the building before him. It was a simple 6-story building of white stone. The building bore tall windows whose black frames marked the beginning and end of each floor. The front doors were plain glass with a steel frame. He could barely make out an alarmingly ostentatious lobby beyond.

Christopher swallowed. It hadn’t taken long to find out what building the Quirk Registration Service worked from. To all appearances, it was a generic office building any government service could occupy. Yet… Christopher couldn’t walk through the doors.

Something was foreboding here at the building’s threshold, something Christopher couldn’t move past. He had walked past this door a dozen times, never able to work up the courage to pass through these plain glass doors. In the deepest pit of his stomach, he was scared.

Hitomi, in the form of a watch, squeezed his wrist. A wave of resolve washed through Christopher. He remembered why he was here. Last night he’d found out his mother had received treatment for an undisclosed quirk drawback here. Last night he’d called and gotten the run around. Early this morning, he had a conversation with his father that gave him more questions than answers. Today was his day off and he’d chosen to spend it getting answers.

Christopher wanted to know how Saraki had helped his mother. He wanted to know what they did with Quirk Drawbacks. … He wanted help.

Christopher wrapped his hand around the door’s handle. He yanked it open. The hot air of the building’s interior rolled over him like the breath of Hell. He shrank. There was something in him, something deep, that didn’t want him to be here.

Hitomi squeezed his wrist again.

Christopher stepped forward. The lobby was an incredible sight. Marble columns slammed into a mahogany roof. An empty onyx desk set against the far wall, its occupant met him at the door.

The moment Christopher entered the lobby he was met by a rotund Japanese man with the white powder stains of a hastily devoured donut pockmarking his uniform. A thin mustache framed his round chins.

“May I help you?” The guard asked amicably.

Christopher steeled himself. “I’m looking for Dr. Saraki.” There was no turning back now.

The guard smiled tightly. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes.” Christopher lied.

---

Dr. Saraki sat in his filthy office. Stacks of folders dripped off his cluttered desk onto the floor below. Loose leaf paper oozed out of manilla envelopes. Dust bunnies conspired in the corner. A space hastily cleared off his crowded workspace revealed a black rotary phone. Its receiver was to Saraki’s ear.

“I need a list of quirks that could cause a subject to die remotely during my interrogation.” Eiko Tomoki demanded.

Saraki sighed. He didn’t want to be a part of this conversation. It was boring to look at a problem you already knew the answer to. Tomoki was investigating the sudden death of one Ide Suzuki. A dirty HA agent that worked with Desolator to kill Satori. Suzuki had died of an aneurysm while in interrogation. He was an old man, in a stressful situation. Any normal cop would’ve put it down to natural causes and moved on. Not Tomoki, not with what she thought she was dealing with.

Tomoki was convinced that Desolator’s employer had utilized a quirk to kill Suzuki remotely. She had no proof, no plausible reason to suspect as much. It was a ludicrous theory born of paranoia and blind hope that she’d caught a big fish.

“I’d need to know the circumstances of his death to give you an accurate list.”

She was right.

“For example, was it during interrogation?”

She was talking to the culprit.

“Yes.”

“Could be a telepathy quirk. But there aren’t many capable of setting a lethal trigger.”

“Can you get me the list?”

“There’s really only one name: Tabitha Curie.”

“Can you tell me about her?”

“She’s Grandpa Slow’s interpreter.”

“Grandpa Slow…” Saraki could feel Tomoki restrain a deep sigh. Not only had Saraki fed her an unlikely suspect. He’d fed her a suspect she wouldn’t be allowed to question even if she were the guilty party. Slow had friends.

“If it makes you feel better, I doubt she was involved. Slow’s kind to a fault and Tabitha isn’t smart enough to go behind his back.” No-one was. Also, her range was only 200 meters. It’d be easy enough to confirm she’d never have the opportunity to put the trigger in Suzuki. Tomoki didn’t need to know that.

“Is there a way I could confirm that this was a mental attack at least?”

“Hrm, you could consult with Soujyuuro Imai. He’s a student at Shiketsu.”

“He has a telepathy quirk?”

“Not on Curie’s level, but he has her potential. I think he’d be able to sense a telepathic touch anyway.”

“Anyone else?” Tomoki asked pointedly.

“With a telepathy quirk? There aren’t that many.” It was such a rare quirk that Saraki half-suspected that Soujyuuro and Curie were related. It wouldn’t shock him if they were half-siblings. Soujyuuro’s father did get around.

“No, I mean anyone else who could induce an aneurysm.”

“Without seeing them? I don’t believe there is--” Saraki’s breath caught as if he just remembered someone. “There is one.” That got Tomoki’s attention. He could feel her perk up. He had to stop himself from smiling. He had her.

Saraki made a show of rifling through his folders. He made sure the receiver picked up the noise. He opened a random file and pretended to read it. “Here it is. Sandatsu Owari CN Reaper, has displayed the ability to control the bodies of others after they ingest his blood. Remotely inducing an aneurysm may be within his capabilities.”

“Owari?!” Tomoki questioned.

“He’s Shihai’s son.” Saraki couldn’t help it, he grinned. Being an enforcer, Sandatsu had ample access to Suzuki. It was believable that Shihai had an angle with the Night Parade that Satori threatened. Opportunity, motive, and means, he was a natural suspect.

Saraki silently apologized to Shihai. She was just too convenient to frame for this. He didn’t feel too bad though. She needed the practice.

“Thank you Dr. Saraki.” Tomoki began frantically. She was excited. Nailing the Enforcers to the wall had long been the dream of the Association’s IA and a fresh opportunity to investigate them was always met with jubilation.

Saraki smiled. “I’m happy to help.”

Tomoki, distracted by the opportunity, hung up. Saraki sighed happily. That couldn’t have gone better. She hadn’t even insisted on getting the entire list of people capable of killing Suzuki in that manner. A list that would’ve included the actual culprit. He hung up the phone.

Saraki waved the file in his hand happily. He was pleased with himself. Out of curiosity, he checked which file he’d happened to pick up when he pretended to look for Sandatsu’s. His smile vanished.

The file was Hitomi Hideyoshi’s. Saraki frowned. She just kept coming up recently. Why? It seemed like whenever he did something aimless his hands or mind found something of her’s. It’d started when he’d met her son. What was it about the boy? His quirk wasn’t interesting. It was a mimic and there were plenty of those around.

Saraki opened the file. He read her case. It was still the most unique case he’d ever dealt with. Maybe that was it? His current patients were all boring. Their issues had been solved long ago, now they were just here while their treatment ran its course. Her issue had necessitated constant adjustments until they finally found out what would work.

Saraki wanted a patient like her again, but he knew he never would. After all, in 200 years she’d been the only one born with--

The phone rang. Saraki, perplexed, answered.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Saraki, this is Otama at the front desk.”

“The security guard, yes, what is it?”

“I have someone claiming he has an appointment with you.”

Saraki raised an eyebrow. He didn’t have any patients allowed outside of his facility right now. He didn’t have a meeting either. He almost said, ‘I don’t have an appointment,’ but he didn’t. He didn’t know why he didn’t. Curiosity maybe? He really was bored. He was desperate for something to do and blindly hoped that the unscheduled appointment might bring him some measure of engagement.

So, instead, Saraki asked a fateful question. “Who is it?”

“He says his name is Christopher Cain.”

Saraki sighed. The boy had his phone number. He could’ve fucking called. He could’ve… why didn’t he? Monosuke said the boy had called last night. Christopher had asked Monosuke if they’d treated his mother. … why would such banal curiosity drive a boy to not only find the QRS HQ but to visit it and lie about having an appointment? Saraki glanced at the file in his hands. He needed to know.

“Send him to the Date Conference Room.”

“Yes, sir.”

---

Christopher paced in a small windowless conference room. Hitomi, still clasped to his wrist, squeezed him reassuringly. It didn’t calm him much. He didn’t know what to say to Saraki. He hadn’t even expected to get this meeting. He needed to think of a way to broach the subject of treatment. The best idea he had was to ask about his mother’s treatment. He could find out what her issues were, then gently bring up the idea that he might have issues of his own. It would work for a normal doctor, but there was something… off about Saraki.

In their few meetings, Saraki struck Christopher as more of a creature than a man. A thing driven by needs rather than by relationships or wants. He was not a person Christopher would trust with a potato gun, let alone his darkest secret.

Still… Christopher looked at his little black dragon in the form of a watch. The dragon that’d taken his mother’s name. He remembered the picture. His mother and Saraki embraced on her graduation. His mother smiled. Saraki was important to his mom. If his dad was to be believed, she may have even thought of Saraki as her father.

Maybe Christopher was wrong about the Doctor. Maybe he could trust him.

“I can only hope.”

“Hope for what young man?”

Christopher jumped as a voice cut through him like a frigid breeze. He looked towards the door which had opened noiselessly. Standing in the middle of the doorway, was a bald man wearing dark sunglasses and a white lab coat. His fake smile was hidden beneath the waves of a well-kept mustache.

“Hope you’ll answer my questions.” Christopher lied automatically.

“Ah.” Saraki deflated. He sighed. “Please, have a seat.” He gestured to a chair at the far end of the table. “Has anyone offered you anything?”

Christopher sat down. “They have, but I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? It’s really no trouble.”

Christopher had the impression that Saraki wanted an excuse to leave this room. He felt if he asked for something as small as water he’d never see Saraki again. So, he insisted.

“I’m fine, thanks for offering.” Christopher forced a smile.

Saraki sighed again and finally entered the room. The door shut behind him with a soft click, but he didn’t sit. He gripped the back of the chair situated at the head of the table and leaned forward. “Then let’s not waste time, how may I help you?”

Better to start with the question I asked over the phone. Christopher thought. “Did you treat my mother?”

“Yes,” Saraki answered without hesitation. He sounded annoyed more than anything. It was like he knew Christopher was intentionally dodging the point.

“Can…” Christopher gathered himself. There were two routes he could take. He could either steer the conversation back towards himself, perhaps that’d catch Saraki’s interest more immediately, or… satisfy his curiosity over his mother’s quirk.

“What issue did my mother’s quirk have?” It was never a choice.

“She pulled things apart,” Saraki answered disinterestedly.

“… what?”

“Hitomi’s quirk, allowed her to declare rules of attraction on objects she perceived--” Saraki paused. He studied Christopher’s face. “… but you know that?” That was a question, not a statement.

“Of course.” Christopher lied. He didn’t know. He only knew the official record of his mother’s quirk.

Christopher never had a reason to doubt it. However, if that was a lie, Christopher should know it was a lie. After all, he copied his mother’s quirk often.

---

Saraki’s eyebrow quirked. He knew Christopher was lying, but he couldn’t fathom why the boy would lie. Nor could he figure out how Christopher wouldn’t know how Hitomi’s quirk functioned. It was a mystery. He wasn’t quite so bored now.

---

“Due to some unique circumstances.” Saraki continued cagily, “Your mother couldn't perceive objects as whole entities. This caused her quirk use to be... dangerous.”

“… unique circumstances?” Christopher leaned forward.

“No.”

“No?”

“I think I’ve given you enough for free.” Saraki smiled. “If you want to know the rest you have to tell me why you really came.”

“I just wanted to know about my mom--”

“You don’t know the intricacies of your own mother’s quirk.” Saraki interrupted. “For a quirk mimic? That beggars belief.”

“Maybe she didn’t think I could handle the quirk.” Christopher shot back. “If it was dangerous, who would?”

Saraki shook his head. “She called me about that you fool. The week after your quirk manifested. She wanted to know if her quirk was safe for you to use. I told her the risk was minimal.”

“Why?!” Christopher shouted. He hoped to make the man a little defensive, make him say more than he wanted to.

“I won’t be baited.” Saraki’s smile deepened. “If you want an answer, I need one first. Why are you here?”

Christopher’s jaw clenched. He felt his teeth creak. Talking to this man was infuriating. “If I don’t answer.”

“I walk away,” Saraki answered. Christopher glared at the man. That seemed like a lie. He didn’t know if Saraki was capable of walking away right now. The set of his jaw, the way he leaned forward. Christopher could recognize the signs of an obsession forming. He’d seen it in the mirror.

“…” Christopher tried to stay silent, rationally he thought he’d win the waiting game. Emotionally, he feared Saraki would make good on his threat and leave. Perhaps, due to the Black Dragon’s influence, his emotional side won.

“I need help… with my quirk.”

Saraki rolled his eyes. “I don’t help people become better heroes, no matter what your mother may have said--”

“NO! It’s not… that.” Christopher took a deep breath. “When I drop a quirk that I’ve copied I...” This was the first time he’d share his secret with someone he didn't trust. He could feel it in his bones. Saraki was not a good man. He could not be trusted with anything. Yet… if there was even the possibility that Saraki could help him, he had to take the risk. “… forget the person I copied it from.”

Saraki’s eyes widened. His jaw opened slightly. His grin turned into a heartfelt smile. THAT was the sort of issue he’d be happy to treat.

“Even if you can’t help...” Christopher continued, oblivious to Saraki’s growing excitement.

---

Quirk-induced amnesia! Such a thing was nearly unprecedented. It was a phenomenon Saraki had never had the opportunity to study. The idea of being able to study such a phenomenon had him ready to agree to whatever Christopher may ask for when the boy spoke again.

“Even if you can’t help...”

Saraki’s smile disappeared. “What did you say?”

Christopher blinked away stress-born tears. He clearly felt like he’d made a horrible mistake, but there was no putting the cat back in the bag. He repeated himself. “I want to know what my quirk’s doing to me. What’s wrong with it?”

Saraki straightened. That made more sense for a boy in his position to say, but that hadn’t been what he’d heard. When Christopher had decried his own wont of knowledge; Saraki hadn’t heard his voice. He’d heard the voice of his favorite patient from 20 years ago. Why did he hear her voice?

Christopher, still wrapped up in his own internal terrors, looked up at Saraki. “Can you help me?”

---

Don’t be a dick Riku!

---

Saraki felt his skin crawl. He felt like he’d heard a whisper. There was something dangerous in treating this boy. Something even he didn’t understand. But that ignorance sealed his fate.

Hitomi had been right. He didn’t want to know. He NEEDED to know. Saraki smiled despite his stomach curling into iron-tight knots. He answered Christopher with the calm assurance of someone who would never allow himself to fail.

“Of course I can.”

Christopher let out a ragged breath. “Thank you.” His voice was meek, he didn’t mean his gratitude. That was all well and good for Saraki, he wasn’t doing this for the boy.

“First we’ll have you come in on you days off. Is Sunday--”

“Wait.”

Saraki frowned at the interruption. If the boy thought he was getting out of treatment after giving him such a wonderful drawback to study he had another--!

“I answered your question. Now answer mine. Why was my mom’s quirk safe for me to copy?”

Saraki thought for a moment. He could come clean and reveal all the details now, but if the boy got what he wanted he might have to exert some influence to get him to come back. He glanced at the boy’s watch. He could feel that black dragon glaring at him from beneath the watch’s false face. The last time he’d tried to use his quirk to influence the boy, she’d tried to gouge his eyes out.

‘Better not to rely on my quirk to control this one. Better to offer… carrots.’ Saraki thought. The lad had obviously forgotten his mother due to his quirk’s issue. He could use that ignorance to keep him hooked. He could drip-feed information and keep him coming back indefinitely. Still, he had agreed to answer the question, and appearing dishonest would irrevocably damage their budding relationship. He could part with one morsel of information for now and keep his word.

“Her quirk was safe to copy.” Saraki began, a sly smile on his face. “Because HER quirk was never the problem.”