Chapter Text
The dawn arrives cold and still, a shivering quiet settling over the Shie Hassaikai compound. Outside, frost gathers on the window panes, creeping into delicate patterns that shimmer faintly in the early morning light. It feels as though the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for something—or perhaps, someone—to stir. Inside her small, sparsely furnished room, Himena Chisaki lies beneath a thin blanket, her gaze drifting over the dim ceiling. She waits for warmth to seep into her bones, but the room remains stubbornly cold, as if it mirrors the chill within her.
On most mornings, she would already be up, savoring the quiet before the day’s responsibilities take over. But today, a lingering coldness pins her to her bed, as if it wants to keep her here just a little longer. She closes her eyes again, half-drifting, letting her mind wander in the rare solitude.
Then, the silence shatters with a sharp, familiar knock at her door, cutting through the stillness like a blade. It’s her brother. She doesn’t need to ask; his habit of knocking firmly and insistently is as much a part of her morning as the cold air in her lungs. He never enters uninvited—a boundary rather than courtesy—but his knock always carries an unspoken command.
“Himena.” His voice, low and precise, drifts through the door, tinted with an edge of impatience. “It’s time to wake up. It’s already past ten.”
With a sigh, she pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders, reluctantly pushing herself to sit up. Her bare feet touch the icy floor, and she shivers, the cold seeping into her skin. Each step across the room feels like wading through frost, each movement reminding her of her place here, the part she plays. She steels herself as she reaches the door, letting her expression settle into a calm she doesn’t quite feel.
When she opens the door, her brother is already there, his expression hidden behind his mask, though the stern set of his eyes leaves little doubt. She can sense the frown on his face, even if she can’t see it. His gaze is sharp, assessing, as if he can see every secret she tries to keep.
“Were you up again last night?” His voice is low and measured, but the slight edge of frustration doesn’t go unnoticed. “I know you’ve been sneaking off to practice that quirk of yours.”
Her gaze drops, a pang of shame twisting in her stomach. She knows she shouldn’t be practicing without his permission, but she can’t help it. Ever since her quirk manifested, it’s been a part of her that she feels compelled to understand, to control. She wants to be good at something, even if it’s something he deems… dangerous.
Her quirk, Frost, allows her to manipulate water particles in the air, creating misty clouds of ice or hard, hail-like shards. She can even cause frostburn with her touch, though the more she exerts herself, the more she risks severe injury. Her quirk keeps her body temperature unnaturally low, leaving her in a state of permanent cold, something she’s never fully grown used to.
Kai studies her with a calculating look, the faint crease in his brow a testament to his disapproval. “You know the risks of overexertion. That quirk of yours will damage you more than help you.” His tone has softened slightly, though his gaze lingers, searching for any sign of defiance.
“I know,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “But… I just want to get better at controlling it.”
His eyes narrow, and he shakes his head, not quite understanding. “That’s what you have me for.” His words are calm, precise, like everything he says, but there’s a hint of a familiar frustration lurking beneath the surface. “You don’t need to test your limits on your own, Himena. You’ll only hurt yourself. I can fix it—make it so you don’t have to rely on such a… dangerous ability.”
The word “fix” echoes in her mind, and she flinches. She knows he’s said it out of concern, but it still feels wrong, like he’s trying to erase a part of her. He wasn’t always like this, she thinks. There was a time, years ago, when he wasn’t so cold, when she didn’t have to call him Overhaul. Back then, he was just Kai, and she was his little sister, both of them adopted by the boss, whom they affectionately call “Pops.”
But time changes people. And for Kai, those changes have become armor, a mask that separates him from the world, even from her. His need for control, his obsession with eliminating weaknesses—even within her—has grown over the years. She understands that he’s trying to protect her in his own way, but sometimes it feels like he’s also trying to deny her a part of herself.
For a moment, she considers telling him this, that she wants to embrace her power, not have it “fixed.” But as she looks up and meets his eyes, she sees a flicker of something unspoken in his gaze—a deep-rooted concern, maybe even fear. It reminds her that, beneath the mask, her brother is still there, watching over her, even if he doesn’t always know how to show it.
So she nods quietly, letting the words remain unspoken, for now. She’ll let him believe he’s keeping her safe. Because even though he doesn’t understand, and maybe never will, she knows this isn’t a battle she can win today. But one day, she hopes, he’ll see that she’s stronger than he gives her credit for.
For now, she can live with that.