Work Text:
It was raining outside.
Unlike humans, nature is beautiful.
Kai Chisaki was looking out the window.
Watching.
Waiting.
The sky was filled with dark grey storm clouds. Thunder clapped and lightning flashed while raindrops traced down the windows in a fruitless race. The air in the therapy room felt disgustingly homey and warm—almost suffocating compared to how cold, and lifeless his cell felt.
White walls decorated with minimalistic paintings surrounded him. A soft cream-colored rug lay beneath the former villain's slipper-clad feet, and a potted plant stood in the corner of the room, with a brown table settled a few feet in front of him.
Kai could feel the glare of cameras bore onto his head even if they were tiny and hidden in the crooks of the ceiling. It was a safety protocol in case Overhaul or one of the other patients became too unhinged. They were being watched and under the ‘protection’ of the Hero Commission.
The man winced at the painful throb in his elbows as if thousands of needles were stabbing his sensitive skin. He tried to tug on the collar of his grey sweatshirt but faltered, still not used to his new arms and hands. After not having limbs for two years, it was frustrating to operate new ones.
The prosthetics were a recent thing.
Kai wasn't sure if he liked them or not.
His heart felt numb.
He wondered if he ever really had one to begin with.
Blood. Blood. So much blood on his hands—Overhaul ruined so many lives, too many to count.
He wanted to die.
Breathe.
Kai was waiting for the new state-mandated psychologist. The former two quit because they were fed up with his silences. They weren't getting the results they wanted because they didn't actually care about him getting better.
His former therapists acted as if they were disgusted and exhausted by his very existence—which Kai felt mutual about regarding himself. Their glares, forced tones, and harsh comments showed they'd rather be anywhere but at the Villain Rehabilitation Centre.
What would Pops do if he saw him now?
“You went too far again, Kai. We are Yakuza, but we live by a code. We do not throw away our humanity. We do not harm the innocent. If you keep walking this path, you will lose yourself entirely.”
The old man picked Kai up off the streets when he was nothing but a runt. The Yakuza boss raised him. The young man wanted to repay that debt—he was going to bring the Hassaikai back to its former glory and was willing to do whatever it took.
Pops didn't understand Kai's ideology.
The old man was too good, too honorable for this world.
“Once my plan succeeds and the Hassaikai is on top again, I will bring you back. I'll wake you up, and you'll see I was right.”
But Overhaul failed, and Pops ended up hating him—maybe he really was crazy.
“Look at what you've become, Kai. You ignored everything I tried to teach you. You thought you were saving the Hassaikai, but you completely destroyed it. You threw away your humanity, and for what? I will be here to chew you out and remind you of your failures until the day I die.”
Kai's heart ached inside his chest almost like it was still there… beating.
He ran his hand over his brown buzz cut and sighed, defeated.
Overhaul was done.
He didn't want to see anyone else.
He wanted to be alone.
Wanted to stay in the comfort of his cage where it was safe.
The sound of the door clicking open made Kai slump deeper into his chair, uninterested.
A blonde haired woman walked in.
Young. Alive. Beautiful.
Unlike him, who was withering like the grass of the field.
“Hello there,” came her soft, welcoming, almost kind voice. She didn't tremble or show that she was displeased with the arrangement. “I'm Misa Shuzenji. I'll be your new therapist. What's your name?”
No answer.
“That's okay,” Misa gave a small smile. “We don't have to talk. You can just listen, and I'll do all the talking,” she sounded earnest. “I already told you my name, so now I'll tell you about myself.”
Kai found her voice pleasant.
It silenced the sounds in his mind for some odd reason, and he actually decided to listen this time.
Misa was quirkless.
Cured.
She had been a therapist for three years and was the granddaughter of Pro Hero and healer Chiyo Shuzenji, aka Recovery Girl.
The twenty-five-year-old talked about simple things like her hobbies, her pet dog, favorite food and drink. She briefly mentioned her faith: how it helped her when she was struggling with her own mental health.
Kai didn't care about any of that.
The woman's approach didn't make sense to him.
What's wrong with her?
Misa was different from the others who sat in that black leather chair.
Maybe it was in the way she stared him dead in the eye with a gentle expression or how she gave him the freedom to simply be still.
The blonde didn't poke, prod, or bring up any of his ugly past deeds.
It was like Misa didn't see a monster.
What a peculiar being.
“Do you like the rain?”
She paused, waiting for his response curiously but not expectantly. It was then that Kai noticed how curly baby hairs clung to her forehead and the damp jacket draped behind her chair.
When he didn't say anything, she filled the space with her presence, and it was bright.
“Well, I love it—the cool weather and the smell of the earth. The rainbow after a storm. Nature is really beautiful, hm?”
Misa spoke to him as if he were human, and that made his skin crawl.
Kai wanted to run, but he couldn't—having sessions was mandatory, and resistance was futile.
Her eyes darted to his arms in a quick survey.
The brunette gave her a look that said, Aren't you going to ask?
“Do you like your new arms?” she asked, then winced afterward as if she stepped on a minefield. “I meant how are you adjusting—”
Kai snorted at her split second panicked expression.
His lips curved in a smirk, amused.
How long has it been since he felt anything but sorrow?
Too long.
“Hey! I thought I was being offensive,” Misa gave a light chuckle, shoulders loosening. “Sorry if I was being insensitive.”
She wasn't, but he wasn't going to tell her that.
Kai wondered if Misa was doing this for the money—which wouldn't be a lot to his knowledge. Whatever her reason was, he knew she wouldn't stick around.
None of them ever did.
“I wanted you to tell me your name yourself when you're ready, but I'd like to give you a nickname in the meantime if that's okay,” Misa rested her hand on her chin.
No.
The man blinked. His sharp hazel eyes met her dark brown irises in a wistful gaze, one would assume was puppy dog eyes directed at him.
“...Kai.”
“Thanks for telling me,” her face lit up excitedly. “It's nice to meet you, Kai.”
The thirty-one-year-old was baffled at how such a small act was able to make the woman happy.
It was just a name.
His name at that.
So why was she grinning like a fool? Because he was one.
She's more in need of professional attention than I am, Kai mentally retorted.
Talking to Misa was like having black coffee at his favorite café… back when he still felt like a person.
He liked it… her company.
It wasn't torture.
“No! Stop! Give them back! My hands... I need them! Without them, I can't do it! I can't bring him back!”
A sharp gasp escaped his mouth as he shot up, wheezing to catch his breath.
“Pops... Pops, I'm sorry!”
Another nightmare.
Nothing new.
Kai Chisaki lay in his bed that night staring at his ceiling in the dark.
The dim light from the moon spilled through the broken cracks of his blinds. His arms, or what was left of them, were achy; the cold weather always increased his physical pain. The blankets covering him barely provided any heat, but Kai was used to it.
Bitterness sat on his tongue from the meds he took hours ago.
His mind was loud and restless like it normally was, but this time something soothing lingered amidst the sea of screams: Misa's gentle voice and a verse.
“I would just like to read you something if that's okay,” she said near the end of their session, giving a wishful look at the broken man.
“When I was at my lowest and couldn't go on anymore… with no hope, no idea what to do or who to turn to next, I thought, why not see what God has to say? So I opened a Bible, and it spoke to me,” Misa smiled, almost tearfully. “Specifically about what I was going through. It showed that God saw. He saw my pain, and I'm sure He sees yours too.”
Kai's heart was not moved—it was as hard and cold as an iceberg.
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me,” Misa read slowly and carefully with reverence as if the words truly gave life, “for I am gentle and lowly in heart,” she breathed out softly, “and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light,” she ended and closed the book.
“I implore you, Kai, to talk to God—whether you want to yell and be angry or complain, just reach out to Him. It's been helpful to me and so many others to rely on Him. He's there. He hears. He answers. Jesus is waiting with open arms.”
Overhaul doubted that, but he allowed her words to wash over him like balm, if only for a second, and stored them in his brain somewhere in the back.
“He looks past your flaws and what you've done. He only sees you. Not Overhaul. His son. You. God longs to gather you as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings… if you are willing to let Him in.”
That hit hard.
Harder than he thought it would.
What a joke. As if anyone were that kind. No one cared that much, no one would—
His eyes burned with unshed tears.
“If you really regret your decisions, your former lifestyle. God can forgive all of your sins if you let Him, if you want Him to. He can… He can change you, Kai, be an anchor for you—be a reason to live. He gave me purpose and meaning to life. I know He can do it for you too.”
Kai closed his eyes and squeezed them hard, wishing the darkness would consume him and take him away.
He scoffed when he didn't vanish.
“Thank you for having me, and listening,” Misa said, holding onto the strap of her bag. “I appreciate it. I look forward to seeing you again next week.”
He hadn't heard a thanks directed at him in years.
Misa said it like she meant it.
Kai might almost believe her.
“Bye, Kai!” she waved, foreign accent slipping through.
He had a Bible taking up space on his desk now.
A gift from his sunshine incarnate counselor.
I'm never going to read that.
Kai had a physical therapy appointment the next day.
He was not looking forward to it.
“Give me a break.”