A few days had passed since the conversation with Nezu and Aizawa, and it felt like a weight had been lifted off Shinji's shoulders. The relief he felt from finally speaking out loud was still with him, but now it was mixed with nervous anticipation.
Shinji sat on the edge of the hospital bed, staring at the neatly packed suitcase resting by the door. His sister, Yu, had told him earlier that Nezu and Aizawa would be stopping by to help him pack and move. But the truth was, there wasn't much to pack. Everything he owned fit into a single suitcase. It was a stark reminder of how much he'd lost, and how much he had to rebuild.
He ran his hand over the worn leather handle of the suitcase, a mix of anticipation and apprehension building in his chest. Moving out of the hospital felt like a step forward, but it also felt daunting. Would this really be a fresh start or just another stop in a cycle he couldn't break?
The door creaked open, and Yu peeked her head in with a bright smile. "They're here," she said. "You ready?"
Shinji nodded, forcing himself to his feet. "Yeah," he said, his voice steady. "I'm ready."
Nezu and Aizawa stepped into the room moments later, the former perched on a small rolling cart that Aizawa was casually pulling along. Nezu's bright, inquisitive eyes scanned the room, landing on the suitcase. "I see you've already packed," Nezu said, his tone light and cheerful. "Efficient as always, Shinji."
Shinji shrugged. "Didn't really have much to pack."
"That's fine," Aizawa said, his tone as blunt as ever. "Less stuff means less to carry."
Nezu chuckled, the sound surprisingly hearty for such a small creature. "And here I was planning on suggesting we help you pack. Seems I underestimated you, Shinji."
Shinji managed a small smile. "Thanks, but I've got it handled."
"Good," Nezu said, hopping off the cart and onto a nearby chair. "Then let's get moving. Your new accommodations are waiting for you."
Shinji glanced at Yu, who gave him an encouraging nod. "Go on," she said softly. "You've got this."
With that, they gathered the suitcase and headed out. For the first time in years, Shinji felt like he was stepping toward something, not away from it.
The drive to U.A. was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space as Shinji stared out the window. The world outside seemed so vivid, almost surreal, after spending so long surrounded by sterile white walls. Trees blurred into patches of green, and the warm summer sun made the roads shimmer in the distance.
"You're awfully quiet," Aizawa remarked from the driver's seat, his eyes focused on the road.
Shinji shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed outside. "Just…thinking."
"That's allowed," Nezu said from his perch on the dashboard. "But don't let those thoughts weigh you down. Today is a beginning, Shinji. Beginnings are opportunities."
Shinji nodded slightly but didn't respond. The closer they got to U.A., the heavier his chest felt. Would he fit in? Could he handle being surrounded by people who hadn't seen what he'd seen or survived what he'd endured?
As they pulled up to the U.A. campus, Shinji's heart skipped a beat. The place was massive and eerily empty. Summer break had left the grounds quiet, but even without students bustling around, the grandeur of the school was undeniable. The two dorm buildings stood prominently, mirror images of each other, their sleek design blending modernity with warmth. Next to them, a smaller house stood, humble but inviting.
"That's yours," Nezu said, pointing to the small house as Aizawa parked the car. "Consider it a little experiment. You'll have your space, but close enough to interact with others when the time comes."
Shinji stared at the house, his emotions a mix of relief and trepidation. He'd expected a room in a dorm, but this this felt like a home.
"Go on," Nezu encouraged his voice light. "Check it out while we talk with your sister about a few things."
Shinji hesitated before nodding. He grabbed his suitcase, the weight of it feeling insignificant in his hand, and walked toward the house. The key was already in the lock, so he turned it and stepped inside.
The interior was cozy and simple. A small living area with a couch and a coffee table greeted him. To the side, a modest kitchenette with a mini fridge and a stove gleamed under the afternoon light. A short hallway led to a single bedroom and a bathroom. It wasn't much, but it was his, a space to call his own.
He placed the suitcase by the bed and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. For the first time in years, he felt a sliver of something unfamiliar: hope.
Back outside, Nezu and Aizawa spoke with Yu, who lingered by the car. "Thank you for everything you've done," Yu said, her voice filled with gratitude. "I just want him to have a chance to heal."
"We'll make sure of it," Nezu assured her. "He's strong, Yu. Stronger than he knows."
Aizawa nodded in agreement. "We'll keep an eye on him. He's got potential, he just needs time and the right guidance."
Inside, Shinji wandered the small house, letting the reality of his new beginning sink in. This wasn't the hospital, and it wasn't the place he'd been trapped in before. It was a step forward. As he glanced out the window at the empty campus, he whispered to himself, "Maybe I can make this work."
Shinji wandered through the small house, taking in every detail. The faint hum of the refrigerator, and the sunlight streaming through the window, it was a far cry from the cold sterility of the hospital. This was a place to start over, to rebuild. Yet, as much as he wanted to believe it, a gnawing doubt lingered.
Shinji wandered through the small house, letting his fingers trail across the sparse furniture. The quiet solitude should have been comforting, but instead, it only amplified the unease gnawing at the edges of his mind. He stopped by the bedroom window, gazing out at the empty campus.
As he stared, the reflection in the glass began to distort. The faint outline of a monstrous figure took shape, its features dark and twisted. Shinji turned sharply, his breath caught in his throat, and there it was. The corrupted version of himself stood in the room, towering and grotesque.
"No," Shinji whispered, taking a step back. "You're not real."
The creature tilted its head, glowing eyes narrowing. "Aren't I?" it asked, its voice a hollow, warped echo of Shinji's own. Slowly, it advanced, each step deliberate. "How many times have you seen me? How many times have you told yourself I'm just a nightmare, a figment of your fractured mind?"
Shinji clenched his fists, his pulse racing. "You're not real," he said again, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
The creature stopped just a foot away, its presence suffocating. "Let me prove it," it rasped, its tone dripping with mockery.
Before Shinji could react, the thing raised a clawed hand and dragged it slowly across his cheek. A sharp, stinging pain burned as the claw broke his skin. He stumbled back, his hand flying to his face, and when he pulled it away, his fingers were stained with blood.
The creature smiled, its teeth jagged and unnatural. "You see?" it hissed. "I'm as real as you are. Because I am you."
Shinji's voice cracked. "No, you're not," he said, shaking his head. "You're not me."
The creature stepped closer, its towering frame looming over him. "Oh, but I am," it said, its tone low and sinister. "You think you left the breach? Do you think you left the fight? No, Shinji. You didn't leave anything. You brought it with you."
Shinji stumbled back until he hit the edge of the bed, collapsing onto it. "I'm not like you," he murmured, his hands trembling. "I'm not."
"Not like me?" It leaned closer, its grotesque features mere inches from Shinji's face. "You are me. Every fight, every scream, every step you've taken since that day, it's all led you here. And now you're trying to escape the only fight you've ever known?"
Shinji tried to speak, but his throat tightened as the thing's words sank deep into his mind.
"You belong in the chaos," it whispered, its voice cold and certain. "You belong in the breach. Come back, Shinji. Come back to the only fight you've ever known."
Shinji squeezed his eyes shut, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Get out of my head," he whispered, his voice broken.
When he finally opened his eyes, the room was empty. The creature was gone. He let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding. He reached up to touch his cheek, expecting to feel the sting of the cut or the slick warmth of blood. But there was nothing. The pain was gone. His skin was smooth. His hand was clean.
"It wasn't real," Shinji whispered to himself, his voice wavering. He wanted to believe it, needed to believe it. "It wasn't real."
But then, soft and distant, the creature's low, guttural laugh echoed through the room, sending a chill down his spine. It wasn't gone, not really. It lingered, unseen but palpable, a shadow that refused to leave.
Shinji sat frozen on the edge of the bed, the faint echo of the creature's laughter reverberating in his ears. He clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to steady his breathing.
"It's not real," he muttered, but the words felt hollow. His body betrayed him, still trembling with the memory of its presence, the sound of its voice, the phantom sting of claws against his cheek.
The door creaked open, and Yu stepped inside. "Shinji? Are you okay?" she asked, concern laced in her voice.
He flinched at the sound, his head snapping toward her. For a moment, her silhouette in the dim light seemed foreign, warped, like the creature's form. But as he blinked, it was just Yu, her expression soft and worried.
"I'm fine," Shinji said quickly, his voice too sharp to be convincing. He forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Just…tired."
Yu frowned, stepping closer. "You're shaking," she said gently, sitting beside him. "What happened?"
Shinji hesitated, his mind racing. He couldn't tell her. Not about this. What would she say? What would anyone say? He already felt like a burden when he told her the other day. He felt like he didn't belong in this world anymore. Adding this to the pile wouldn't help anyone.
"Bad thoughts," he lied, his voice strained. "That's all."
Yu didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. Instead, she reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "You don't have to face it alone, you know," she said softly.
Shinji nodded, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Alone? Of course, he wasn't alone. The creature had made that abundantly clear.
Yu gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before standing. "Nezu and Aizawa will be here soon," she said. "We'll get everything packed and ready to go."
"Right," Shinji muttered, his gaze dropping to the floor. He barely registered her leaving the room, his thoughts consumed by the creature's parting words.
He felt a chill run down his spine. The creature wasn't just a hallucination, it was something more. Something tied to him in ways he didn't understand. And now, even in its absence, it left a shadow in his mind, a gnawing doubt he couldn't shake.
The laughter echoed again, faint and distant as if coming from somewhere deep inside him.
Shinji clenched his fists tighter. "I won't go back," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling but firm. "I won't."
But even as he said it, he couldn't ignore the nagging question in his mind:
What if I don't have a choice?
Shinji dropped his hands after another attempt, panting softly as the energy he'd been focusing on fizzled out. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, leaning back slightly to stretch.
"Most of the mornings have been like this," he said, more to himself than Aizawa, but the older man listened quietly. "Trying to focus, trying to not let it… spiral out of control."
Aizawa nodded, watching him with his usual calm. "And the afternoons?"
Shinji let out a small laugh, glancing at the ground. "After this? I usually crash for an hour or two. Not much energy left after this kind of practice." He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression shifting to something more serious. "But once I'm up, I've been trying to study. Get ready for the classes, you know? My sister brings me stuff to read when she can."
"Good," Aizawa said with a slight nod. "You're going to need that. The academic side will be just as important as the training."
Shinji hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides. "Yeah, I guess so. But honestly, the studying feels easy compared to this." He gestured to the training field. "It's like trying to balance on a wire while someone's shaking it from both sides. Even the smallest distraction and everything comes apart."
"Control takes time," Aizawa reminded him. "You're undoing years of instinct and fear. It's not going to be perfect overnight."
Shinji sighed, then chuckled dryly. "I know, I know. Just feels like I'm fighting myself all the time. Trying not to let my head get in the way."
Aizawa raised an eyebrow. "And how's that going?"
Shinji gave him a wry smile. "Better than I thought it would. Worse than I hoped." He straightened up, brushing his hands off. "But I'm starting to figure out a rhythm. Mornings are for practice, and afternoons for recovery and studying. Evenings…" He trailed off, his gaze shifting toward the dorms in the distance.
"What about the evenings?" Aizawa prompted.
Shinji shrugged, his smile fading. "Sometimes I just walk around. Clear my head. Look at the dorms, think about what it's going to be like when everyone else is here. I guess I'm trying to picture how this is going to work, being around other people, trying to be… normal again."
Aizawa's gaze softened, though his tone stayed firm. "You don't have to be normal. You just have to be you. The rest will come with time."
Shinji nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm starting to get that." He looked up at the sky, the sunlight glinting off his face. "It's been weird, though. Just… having time like this. To think, to practice, to not be in survival mode all the time. I'm not used to it yet."
"That's the point of this training," Aizawa said. "To give you space to adjust. To learn what it means to live without always looking over your shoulder."
Shinji smiled faintly, the edges of his lips twitching upward. "It's nice. Hard, but nice. I think… I think I'm starting to believe it's possible. That I can do this."
"Good," Aizawa said simply. "Because you can."
Shinji nodded, managing a weak smile as he tried to believe Aizawa's words. "Yeah, maybe," he murmured, his gaze drifting back to the horizon where the sun was starting to set. "You may believe that, but… I don't."
Aizawa's eyes softened as if he could see the internal struggle written all over Shinji's face. "That's okay," he said gently. "Not everyone has to be as strong as we think they should be. All that matters is that you keep trying, Shinji."
Shinji took a deep breath, pushing aside the doubt that threatened to consume him. "I'll keep trying," he promised, his voice firmer this time. "Even if I don't believe it yet, I'll keep trying."
Aizawa gave him a reassuring nod, stepping back slightly. "That's all I can ask. Just take it one day at a time."
Shinji watched him go, feeling a strange sense of peace despite the turmoil inside. He had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was moving in the right direction. "One day at a time," he whispered to himself, nodding once more as he turned to head back inside the small house that would be his home for now.
"One day closer to us"
Shinji's breath caught in his throat at the sudden sound, his heart pounding in his chest. "One day closer to us," the other voice echoed, low and menacing, but it wasn't anywhere to be seen. Shinji looked around, his eyes scanning the empty training field, but there was no sign of the corrupted version. It was as if the voice had come from inside his own head.
Shinji clenched his fists, the sense of dread thick in his gut. "I don't want this," he whispered, more to himself than anything else, as he forced himself to keep moving towards the door. "I don't want to be like you."
There was no response, only silence, an unsettling, unnerving silence. Shinji stepped into the house, locking the door behind him as if he could keep out whatever was trying to get in.
Shinji moved through the small house, his footsteps heavy and deliberate on the wooden floor. The silence pressed in around him, making every creak and groan of the house seem amplified. He moved to the kitchen, his fingers brushing over the edge of the countertop as he tried to steady himself.
"Maybe it's all in my head," he murmured to himself, though the words felt hollow, even to him. He glanced back at the door, his eyes narrowing slightly as he locked it, the sound of the deadbolt clicking loudly in the quiet room. As if the physical barrier would make a difference against whatever was haunting him.
He turned away, heading to the small living room, its worn couch looking out of place in the otherwise sparse space. Shinji sank down onto it, feeling the weight of his own thoughts pressing down on him. The darkness, the corrupted version of himself, it was always there, lurking at the edges of his vision, waiting for a moment of weakness to creep back in.
"I need to figure this out," Shinji muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I can't keep running from it."
The silence seemed to mock him, growing thicker with each passing second. Shinji closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, to focus on the here and now. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, but every time he opened his eyes, it felt like something was watching him.
There was no response, only silence, an unsettling, unnerving silence. Shinji stepped into the house, locking the door behind him as if he could keep out whatever was trying to get in. The sound of the bolt sliding into place was oddly satisfying, a small act of control in the face of his own growing uncertainty.
As he turned back to the living room, Shinji heard it again, a soft, almost imperceptible noise, like a whisper on the edge of his hearing. He stiffened, his body going rigid as he tried to listen over the pounding of his own heart. The darkness inside him seemed to be growing closer, edging closer to the surface.
Shinji stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his reflection staring back at him. He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. The bathroom lights overhead flickered for a moment, casting sharp shadows across his pale, gaunt frame.
His chest was a patchwork of scars, each one a testament to the battles he had fought. They crisscrossed his body, very few old and faded, most newer and more jagged. There was one across his ribs, a reminder of the kaiju's tail that had nearly ripped him apart, and another running down his arm a long ugly electrical burn he got when a hit broke some of strikers cables. His skin was still too thin, too fragile, despite months of rehabilitation and training. His muscles were defined, but there was little mass to them, a sign of his malnutrition and the toll his time in the breach had taken on him.
Shinji's fingers traced a long scar that ran from his shoulder to his side, a reminder of why letting Kaiju get too close is a mistake. The skin around the scar was discolored, a pale blue that contrasted sharply with the rest of his pale skin. His reflection stared back at him with hollow eyes, the same dark circles under his eyes that had plagued him since the day he had returned. There was a hardness to his gaze as if the years of isolation had etched themselves into his face.
"Still here," Shinji murmured, his voice breaking slightly as he touched a scar on his cheek, now healed, but forever a reminder of his fight against himself. "Still fighting."
He turned sideways, examining the contours of his body. His ribs were visible under his skin, and though his stomach was flat, it was marked with the scars of his battles. Evidence of the fights that had left him battered and broken. His muscles tensed involuntarily, the remnants of his quirk's energy still clinging to him, leaving his skin tingling.
Shinji stared at himself for a long moment, his fingers brushing over the scars like he could erase them with his touch. "I'm not sure if this is real," he whispered, his voice breaking again. "If any of this is real." He turned away from the mirror, unable to bear the sight any longer. "I'm afraid one day I'll wake up… that I'll be back there."
Shinji's breath caught, and he took a step back, his hands clenching into fists. The fear was deep-rooted, a constant presence in his mind. Every day was a battle, not just with his quirk, but with himself. His own doubts, his own memories.
He glanced back at his reflection, his eyes searching the face that stared back at him. "I don't want to go back," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to be that person again." His fingers traced the scar on his cheek, the reminder of the moment when everything had started to unravel.
His heart pounded in his chest, and the thought of waking up in that place again, of being trapped in the dark, endless cycle of fighting and surviving, he couldn't bear it. "What if I'm never really free?" Shinji's voice cracked, the fear making his words tremble. "What if I wake up one day and it's all gone, and I'm… back there?"
With a shuddering breath, Shinji looked away from the mirror, his body shaking as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He turned off the bathroom light and stepped back into the dimness of the small house, his hands clenched at his sides, the weight of his thoughts heavy on his shoulders.
"Maybe if I can do something, it'll remind me that I'm still here," he thought, as he made his way to the kitchen the temptation was almost too strong to resist. But then he heard a voice in his mind, Aizawa's steady, calming voice reminding him to find another way, to reach out when he felt like this. Shinji clenched his eyes shut, trying to remember that he wasn't alone, he had people who cared, who were waiting for him to reach out.
How much longer could he keep up this act before he broke again?