𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 || ꜱ. ᴀɪᴢᴀᴡᴀ

Madness

   "Y/n! What are you doing down here? I told you that we were done with the case."

I gave Detective Roberts a polite smile, "I'm actually here on hero work." So that's what I was calling this.

"What exactly are you looking for?"

"I was wondering if you have any copies of the quirk database for children born 6 years ago?"

He gave me a questioning look, "Any particular reason?"

"I told you, hero work. Very confidential."

"Ah, of course. Look, I can give you a copy, but there's a lot, you need to be specific as to where you're looking."

Of course, thousands of children are born every day, I didn't even know where I was at the time.

"I'm looking more towards the end of the year. Children born with a name beginning with E."

That's the letter that was always in my mind.

"Okay, I'll see what I can find."

We walked into the file room of the station. It was a rather cramped room, files filling every shelf, but everything had its own space, and everything was there for a reason.

"We've been seeing you around here a lot recently, are you sure joining the force wasn't the right job for you?" Roberts tried to make small talk as he searched through the files.

"Mhm." Was my only response.

He gave a nervous chuckle, "Not up for a chat today?"

"Not really." I gave him an apologetic look, immediately realising how bluntly I had responded, "Sorry, it's nothing against you, really, it's just... personal reasons."

"Hey, I get it, you cant be in a good mood every day."

I was immediately thankful for the Detective's more understanding nature.

"Here we go." He lifted up a rather hefty stack of papers, "Need any help looking through them?"

I shook my head, taking the papers from him. "Is it alright if I take them out?"

Expecting a slew of questions, I was surprised when he gave me a simple nod.

"Just make sure you bring them back when you're finished with them."

"Thank you for this Roberts."

"Don't mention it Tanakashi. I hope you work out whatever this is." He gestured to the papers in my hands.

"Me too Roberts."

Me too.

——————————————————————————

The apartment quickly turned into a flurry of files. Papers were strewn everywhere, frantically written sticky notes found their way onto different surfaces, somewhat encasing me in a shell of white sheets.

I hadn't eaten in days. There wasn't any way I could.

No part of me felt hungry. Instead, the hunger that arose within me was one for answers. Answers that I wasn't finding.

It only made me more determined to find something.

Anything.

The letter E began to lose meaning. Almost as if it wasn't a letter anymore.

Like when you repeat a word so many times, it becomes a sound, rather than a word. It becomes a scramble of consonants and vowels that no longer hold any meaning to you.

By the third day, I had gone through so many quirks and names, that I felt as if I could no longer focus on anything else.

I couldn't sleep either. The thought of sleep brought about the idea that I was wasting the precious time I could be using to find my child. Even if I did go to sleep, I would most probably be plagued with those horrid dreams.

The ones where I was constantly confronted with that nickname. The one where I was constantly being scolded for my ignorance. And the one where my stomach was being constantly gnawed at by guilt that I could only link to the reason I wouldn't sleep.

Why couldn't I remember the name? I was on the cusp of a name only a month ago, and now I was scouring my brain for anything I could pull and pluck at for information.

But to no avail. I was pulling at straws.

Nothing was coming to the forefront of my mind.

It was as if there was a wall. Tall, long and unpenetrable. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't break through. No matter how hard I looked, I couldn't find a crack in the wall.

I was stuck in a rut.

It made me stir-crazy.

No matter how heavy my eyes were getting, I couldn't stop.

I felt as if I wasn't just stir-crazy anymore, I was descending into madness.

Steadily and slowly, I was going crazy with a mixture of guilt and determination fueling my eventual demise.

And there was nothing I could do to stop it.