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Shouta lay recovering in the hospital’s ICU, tentatively stabilized after sustaining life threatening injuries. Pale as he was with jet black hair, the man could have practically disappeared into the dull monochrome of the room if not for the bright red of the IV drip.
Eri and Hizashi stand on the other side of the rooms glass walls counting the seconds between each breath, each heartbeat. The doctors still weren’t sure if Shouta would live through the first night. He may be stable for now but given the internal damage and sheer number of times he had flatlined both in the ambulance and the operating table, making it to tomorrow just wasn’t a surety.
Dull red eyes watch each spike of the heart monitor. Eri hadn’t so much as moved in the past half hour hoping with all her heart for the next beep to come. Hizashi had told her that as long as they heard that sound, Shouta was alive. Next to her, the blond man frowned. It was getting late and while he too wanted nothing more than to camp out in the hospital hallway all night, there were still messes to be cleaned up, students to check up on, and Eri just plain needed sleep.
He’s brought out of his foggy thoughts by a door slamming open and the absolutely bone chilling sound of a flatline.
“TOU-SAN!”
Eri’s heartrending shriek echoes through the halls. She had launched herself into the room as soon as Shouta’s heartbeat stopped, sparks flying wildly from a glowing white horn nearly half her height. Hizashi had to stop any nurses trying to rush in simply because the girl’s quirk was too dangerous, anyone who touched her now ran the risk of disappearing.
Through the blinding light gradually swelling, small girl in the center of it all, something strange and beautiful could be seen. From her body, another Eri split.
Translucent and weeping the apparition throws herself onto the bed, mouth open as if screaming in grief, yet no sound can be heard. The other, solid Eri grit her teeth as tears dripped from her chin. Reaching out and cradling her dad’s face ever so gently in tiny hands, she leans in and touches her forehead to his.
A cacophony of sound erupts; the beeping of machines over lay screams and cries, unintelligible shouts ring out accompanied by what sounds like crumbling buildings and weather sirens. It sounds like the end of all things yet the girl in the bed never flinches. Not from the sound, or her tears, nor from the horn scraping against the wall until all of a sudden, it stops. Light recedes, sounds quiet, the horn shrinks, and a grief stricken girl fades away.
Left behind is a trembling child curled against the chest of her living, breathing father.