SSD: Eri

14. Ten Minutes

Exile. Killer quirk. Touch-based. Silver.

Silver. Silver. Silver.

She was too fast. She was too strong. There was no way Exile could've caught her.

Shouta held tighter to his husband's hand. Hizashi had been called to ask him to collect Hitoshi. Shouta had been called with the news.

Nobody enjoyed calling the family. Aizawa had been the one to do it more than once in the past. It was the worst part about being a hero. How do you tell someone they'll never see their loved one again?

Their kids were doing summer work studies. Aizawa and Yamada were just at home though, relaxing, enjoying themselves. Their old friend had come over, Kayama Nemuri, the hero known as Midnight. Eri was happily sketching, the three adults were just chatting. Then came the calls.

Kayama was driving them. Eri was in the back with Hizashi and Shouta. She had no idea what was going on, but she was scared. Her dads were scared too.

Kayama swerved and broke speed limits, Shouta had to assume, because they got to the warehouse six minutes after they hung up. They'd been expecting people they could talk to. Silver's supervising hero, Hitoshi's. In any situation like this, they'd have someone on hand to explain what happened to the parents.

While Kayama stayed in the car with Eri, what Shouta and Hizashi walked into was chaos. Not the chaos of a hero student dying to a villain's quirk, but something else entirely.

Civilians. A bunch of them. The warehouse was a rush of movement and shouting. Shouta launched backwards as a person blinked into existence directly in front of him. That person looked decidedly unperturbed by this, turning to the crowded building behind them.

Hizashi grabbed his arm, pulling him to one side. And there, sat against the wall, was Hitoshi. The boy was staring blankly at the floor, the only sign of life being the regular rise of his shoulders.

Hizashi crouched opposite their son, letting one hand fall on his shoulder. "Hitoshi?"

It was slow— like watching someone drag their way through mud— but Hitoshi's head rose. They watched their son's face crumple like wet tissue paper. "I'm sorry." Shouta felt his heart crumple too.

He'd been so sure it was impossible. There was no way Silver could go down like this. She hadn't survived her childhood to fall now. She hadn't.

But Hitoshi was the one who'd been here. Hitoshi was the one apologising. Hitoshi was the one left.

Silver was-

They'd-

She-

Their daughter wasn't coming home.

He didn't remember his phone ringing. He didn't remember taking it out. He didn't remember checking the caller ID. He didn't remember accepting the call, pressing the phone to his ear, making a basic greeting.

"You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

The phone slipped from his fingers.

No. But yes. But no.

She was gone.

She was on the other side of the phone.

She was gone.

But that was her voice.

She was gone. But she was alive.

"Sho?" Hizashi picked up the phone. Hizashi was always so careful with his voice, knowing it was crucial to his quirk, to the work he did as a hero. "Silver." His voice cracked over her name.