Slouching Towards Nirvana by ProfessorPedant ( MHA )

( Summary - After her execution, Taylor's spirit was summoned into the body of Yanagi Reiko of U.A.'s Class 1B. Weary of battle, she is hoping to find peace and perhaps redemption. However, Musutafu City is not a peaceful place )

Chapter 1

"Were you really a monster in the end? A warlord, an alien administrator? A vicious killer with a cruel streak, mutilating your enemies and secretly enjoying it? A bully, if you forgive me for using that word?"

I looked down at my hand.

"Or were you really a hero? Do the good intentions win out? Was it Glaistig Uaine's strength or yours, that held her back from saving Scion in those final moments?"

"Why… does it matter?"

"Because I think you have a chance to come back from this. Not much of a chance. Part of that rides on me. I could help you, or I could stop you from troubling anyone ever again. Part of that? It's up to you to win the fight, to take control and keep the administrator from claiming everything you have, leaving you a shell."

I felt a chill. Was part of it my passenger? Both of us?

I opened my mouth to reply, and I couldn't.

Didn't deserve to, either way.

"It's okay. I got the answer, myself."

I looked away.

I looked up. My eyes were wet.

So many stars. The universe so vast.

We're s- so very small, in the end.

The first bullet hit me from behind, where my mask offered no coverage, and I slowly toppled. The second hit me before I could fall, before there could be any pain.

Speck 30.7

# # # # #

I heard a voice.

It was the first thing I had heard, or sensed at all, for I don't know how long. With nothing to see, hear, smell, or feel time is pretty meaningless.

It might have been immediately following the second bullet. It might have been years later. I had no way of knowing.

The voices – there were at least two I could hear – were chanting.

I had no idea what they were saying. I couldn't make out the language much less the words.

They were getting louder.

Nearer, maybe?

Not that I felt movement. Maybe they were approaching me?

Louder.

Nearer.

But no clearer.

Then there was light.

And sound.

And warmth. And scents of incense and pine. And the feeling of cotton and wood and …

Two little girls dressed up in white kimonos knelt on either side of a bowl filled with sand, burning sticks of incense standing in the center. They chanted and rubbed what I took to be prayer beads in their hands. They looked identical, about nine years old with long white hair and milk-white skin.

The room looked like a Japanese restaurant; paper walls, rice mat floors, no furniture except a short table on which the bowl sat. Scrolls with Japanese or Chinese writing hung from the top frame of the wall.

I had no idea where I was.

I reached out for my bugs. I needed both information and potentially protection.

Nothing.

I couldn't find my power.

It worked! I had significant doubts that our prototype ritual would be successful. I must say I am thrilled.

The voice was in my head.

"What the fuck?" I looked around cautiously. There was no one in the room but me and the twins. At least no one I could see. I had known enough Strangers that that was not convincing.

Please refrain from such vulgarities. They are wholly inappropriate for the ears of young temple maidens.

"Who are you? Why are you in my head?"

The twins in white had stopped chanting and were staring at me. I assumed they thought I was talking to them. One said something in a language I didn't recognize. It might have been Japanese, but these girls had the wrong coloring to be from East Asia.

"I can't understand you," I replied, holding up my hands out to stop them. That's when I noticed my hands were not my hands.

I'm afraid they're my hands. The voice sounded chagrined. You are in my body, though I assure you, you are a welcome presence.

"What?" My voice dropped into the cold monotone that it so often took when I was really stressed. My agitation must have shown. The twins scrambled back, holding up their hands, palm towards me, speaking in slow, low tones. I think they we retrying to calm me. Given my current state, they had no real chance.

I stood, looking down. Nothing was familiar. Like the girls, I was wearing a white kimono. The skin and hair I could see was the same almost-albino white, hinting at a familial relation. I was taller and more developed than them, putting me in the mid-teens at a guess.

Retreating until my back was against the wood of the room's corner, I slid one of the paper doors aside. There was some sort of hallway beyond it, with the same Japanese design. Stay or run?

There is no reason to run. You are perfectly safe. Indeed, harming you would harm myself. Please be calm. Breath deep and moderate your emotions.

"Who are you?" I demanded, lowering into a defensive crouch still searching for the speaker.

I am Yanagi Reiko. These are my sisters,Mieko & Miyoko. We are temple maidens at the Haitsuki Temple.

"That doesn't mean anything to me," I snapped. I needed more context. "Where am I? What country? What world?"

What world? She seemed astonished, maybe confused. That is a strange question. Perhaps you are speaking more spiritually. This is the world of the living. Of humans. We are in Japan. Are you from a different world?

"What is the status of Kyushu?"

By this point the two girls were kneeling next to each other in the corner opposite me. I think I had them frightened, at least uncertain and confused.

I am not sure what you mean. More confusion. Kyushu is the southernmost of the main islands of Japan. It is an integral part of the nation. Why would it have a different status?

"Kyushu was sunk into the ocean by Leviathan in 1999."

It must be some sort of alternate history then. She sounded uncertain. I wondered if they had not yet discovered other dimensions. That would have been more than 200 years ago. I assure you nothing like that ever happened in this world. Quirks had not even appeared in the Twentieth Century. Nor have I ever heard of a villain named Leviathan. In your world, did you die?

That stopped me. The memory of the bullets entering my head flashed into my mind.

I can see you did. Her voice was filled with sorrow.

I nodded silently. I died. How can I be here?

We have summoned your spirit from Limbo. She stated it with a level of trepidation. She was afraid of something.

"Why?" My experiences with Bonesaw had taught me to not trust someone who wanted to mess with the dead.

For my sisters, it was part of their training as a medium, to summon the recently dead. She hesitated before continuing, For me, I must confess, the motivations were both less pure and more altruistic. I want to give my body to you. Permanently.

"What? That's suicide."

Not exactly, She hurried to deny. I will not die, as long as you keep this body alive.

I will simply not be in control anymore. The last was stated with such a sound of relief.

"I don't understand. This makes no sense." This is some sort of weird post-operative nightmare. I must be in a hospital after they dug two slugs out of my brain. Lying in a bed imagining all this madness.

It is not madness and you are not in a bed, she insisted. I am sorry for the distress this is causing you. One must recall that birth is a painful experience. Is it any wonder that rebirth might be just as traumatic? Perhaps you might consider a period of silent meditation and reflection? To help you come to terms with the new reality.

You heard my thoughts? I asked silently.

You are in my head, she replied tartly. There is no need to speak aloud. Though I am not certain which will prove more disconcerting for my sisters, your unintelligible one-sided conversation, or your sudden silence.

Unintelligible? They don't speak English.

They do not. Nor do I really. I will admit it is my worst subject at school.

Then how come you are speaking it now?

I am not. We are communing at a spiritual level. No Earthly language is required.

This is so unreal. I need to get outside. I hoped that some fresh air might clear my head. Or this head. Or … whatever.

Go out the door and to the left. She was trying to be helpful, I imagined. At the end of the hall there is a door to the courtyard. There are several benches that make fitting locations for meditation or less formal contemplation.

What about your sisters?

Please repeat this as closely as you can. Soto ni dete kangaete imasu. Subete wa junchōdesu.

I try to repeat it to the twins. I guess I did a poor job of it. They look confused, then nodded. The voice's directions lead to a large yard between old wooden buildings. It was night. The house or …

It is a temple, though we do live here as well. My family has been caretakers of this temple for almost thirty generations.

I guess privacy is a thing of the past. Not that Tattletale or the PRT every really gave me much real privacy anyway. But inside my own head was mostly untouched.

Perhaps we can try to find a way for us to keep your thoughts separate from our conversations, she offered. I can attempt to not experience your thoughts and memories as you have them, though I am new to this situation as well. Perhaps my parents may have some idea.

Your parents? You live with your parents? How old are you?

I am fifteen. I Heard the awkward pride most teens have when stating their age. Expecting ridicule or dismissal.

The same age I was at Winslow. When I triggered. When everything turned to shit. Wait, you said you wanted me to live in your body? Permanently?

Yes. It is my gift to you. She actually sounded happy about it.

Fuck. You want me to go through high school again. I don't think so. How do I get out of this?

Oh …, the disappointment was palpable. I suppose we could try an exorcism. Your soul is not native to this flesh. But without a body you would either become a wandering spirit or return to the world of the dead, awaiting your next rebirth. I would not wish that upon you. But if it is your preference to being reborn in this body, I will accept your rejection.

I paused. That may have been the nicest death threat I had ever received. But she had a point. I had chosen not to fight my own execution once. I didn't think I could go so quietly into that good night again.

Ultimately the choice is yours. She sounded like a puppy waiting to be kick.

Why are you so anxious to give up your life? There is a difference between sacrifice and suicide.

I have my reasons. And she wasn't ready to share them with me, I finished for her.

I sat on a stone bench. A broad river valley, woods checkerboarded with cultivated fields, spread out under the bright moon. The ancient wooden temple perched high on the mountain side. There was a chill bite in the clean air, but no snow except on the tops of the peaks on the far side of the valley. I had never seen a view like it. The tranquility forced itself on me, tearing away at the horrors of the last battle.

Yanagi left me to my reflections.

Eventually the chill pulled me back to the moment.

Well … if the life you are offering is so horrible that you're anxious to give it away, I may not want to step into the problems you're running away from.

It is not horrible, she was quick to assure me. Simply more burdens than I wish to bear. We called out for a spirit strong enough to shoulder my load – better than I ever could. You are the gods' answer.

So, you sit back and watch as I fix your life?

It is your life now, she tried to convince me. I will offer what assistance I may – but the decisions, and the responsibilities, are now yours.

Sounds easy for you. Peaceful.

Does it not? Again, the sound of blissful relief. Something had gone very wrong for this girl.

Like I'm your chauffeur driving through heavy traffic while you relax in the back, I joked somewhat bitterly.

Except you are choosing the destination and the route. I think she was beginning to get frustrated with my stubborn refusal to see the advantages for me. I'm just the passenger.

That word hit me like a truck. I had spent years with a passenger in my head. This was just a particularly talkative one. A passenger that offered no powers. But, looking back, my powers hadn't made my life better before. While I might have saved the universe, the cost had been unimaginably high.

Those experiences gave you the strength we prayed for. And I can give you a power, I think. She sounded desperate to sweeten the deal.

People have powers here? I asked. Other than calling up spirits of the dead?

Approximately 80% of humanity have powers, or quirks as we call them. It happens that calling up the spirits of the dead, and laying them to rest, are the quirks of my family. My quirk, and likely now yours, is Poltergeist. I can call forth and control a swarm of semi-sentient floating spirits that can interact with the living world.

Eighty percent. Damn. Brockton Bay was a shithole with barely eighty capes. I let out a deep breath, longer than a sigh, and felt the world settle more firmly on my new shoulders. I guess I'm going to have to get used to a whole new world.

We shared the silence for a time. I began to wonder. Why aren't I reacting more? Given all I have been through in the last few weeks, I feel like accepting this new situation should be harder for me.

Time may pass differently between worlds. You mentioned the Twentieth Century. If that is your time, that was centuries ago. Perhaps you time in limbo allowed some of your distress to dissipate, to shed your earthly woes. Preparing for your next life. It would be a longer time than is usual, but your burdens were much greater.

If so, you pulled me out before I was done shedding. I am far from tranquil. I'm just not panicking or going catatonic.

Looking out over the valley I started making a list of next steps. Finding out her problems. Identifying threats and enemies. Discovering if I had access to her, or any, powers.

Fuck. Her parents have to be told. And I can't see them being happy about their daughter's replacement.

Can you take over the body? I don't want to be the one to explain this to your family.

I cannot take over, but if you wish to cede control, I may be able to drive for a short while. My family is not part of the problem, not as such. They deserve an explanation for my choice. From her tone I didm't think she was being honest. I just didn't know if she was lying to me or to herself.

Then get your driving gloves on, cause I'm not doing this for you. So how do we make it happen?

In the past when I wished to let a spirit speak through me, once they are possessing me, I closed my eyes and consciously stepped back, releasing control. It was not difficult, but I have been trained in this for most of my life.

Why?

It is part of the role of a miko, to channel spirits for people who wish to speak to the dead or the gods.

So, you've been prepped since birth to give control over to random spirits. No wonder you chose this method of escaping your problems.

I admit it probably had some influence on my decision.

Alright. Explain to me the problems you cannot face. I assume I'm going to have to deal with them now.

Some at least, although they may not all seem insurmountable to you. She was trying to sell me again.

My family, indeed my whole village, are shunned by the people of the region. We are untouchables, a forbidden label whose origin lies in history that should have long been forgotten. Our ancestors were outcast for dealing with death. Butchers, tanners, and – like my family – morticians. Officially, there are no castes in Japan. But in rural areas some prejudices persist. This is a pressure I have lived with my whole life, but it is likely to fade as I leave the village to attend high school.

I assume this prejudice led to bullying and ostracization, I said. I'm familiar with the results, if not the specific cause. You're leaving the area for school?

That is the pressure that precipitated this situation. She sighed. My quirk is both strong and versatile, suitable for combat and rescue operations. Thus, my teachers urged me to apply to a hero program.

What's that?

Heroes must be licensed to use their powers in public for heroic activities. To prepare students to attain such a license several hero academies have been established around the country. My parents urged me to apply to the greatest of these – U.A. High School. They argue that if an untouchable can succeed at U.A. it would help us shed the lingering stigma. With pressure from my family as well as my school I capitulated and applied. To my sorrow I was accepted. I received my notice just this week.

And you don't want to go? I still remembered the disaster that was Winslow. From an adult perspective it may have seemed unimportant. But to a fifteen-year-old high school was almost their whole world.

There were two parts to the entrance exam which I took several weeks ago. First was a written test. It was no different from those I had taken at my middle school, if a bit broader and more in-depth. There was also a practical portion. I had known it was coming, though not the details, and had trained both my body and my quirk. I thought I was ready.

You can never really be ready for your first combat. I said quietly.

It was horrible. They sent a crowd of students into a deserted cityscape filled with attack robots. It was chaos. Madness. The rampant violence and aggression were so upsetting to my equilibrium. I found the whole experience entirely distasteful.

Yet you were accepted?

My poltergeist could easily infiltrate the openings in the shells of the robots and damage their internal workings. I even received points for helping other applicants. My quirk is up to the task. It is my spirit that shudders in horror at the very thought of voluntarily submitting myself to years, perhaps even a lifetime, of such pandemonium. I cannot face that. Yet to shatter the hopes and dreams of my family and community is also beyond me. It was a Gordian Knot I could not untangle.

So, you found another way. You put it all on me.

Can you honestly say that you have not faced worse and prevailed? There was such hope in her voice.

Of course not. But you've given me no choice.

I think you misunderstand, She argued. I have given you all the choices. If you wish to forgo attendance at U.A., it is your choice. If you wish to walk away from the temple, the village, even Japan itself, it is your choice. And if you wish to return to the wheel and await your next rebirth, that too is your choice.

As I don't fancy my chances as an extra-dimensional refugee wandering a world I know nothing about, I'm not sure how many of those are viable options. But I understand what you're saying.

So, what shall we do? She anxiously awaited my verdict.

You are going to tell all this to your family, and I'll relax in the back seat for a bit. Tomorrow will take care of itself for now.