* ? ? Glass Minds ? ? *

The apartment was loud.

Not physically - physically, it was quiet enough. The faint hum of the refrigerator, the occasional drip of a leaky faucet, the muffled sounds of the city outside. But inside her head? It never shut up.

Y/N sat on the windowsill, one leg bent against her chest, forehead resting against the cool glass. The city stretched out beneath her, the glow of streetlights casting long, distorted shadows across the pavement. It was 2:37 AM, and she already knew she wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

She had tried, once again, to block it all out. The flood of memories, the emotions that weren't hers, the fragments of other people's lives bleeding into her own. But after the brutal training session with Shinsou earlier, it was worse than usual.

The weight of a tiny, familiar presence curled up on her thigh kept her grounded: Kimi.

The kitten stirred, letting out a tiny yawn before shifting, his paws kneading lightly against the fabric of her shirt.

She sighed, peeking out from beneath her arm. "You comfortable?"

Kimi blinked at her lazily, his green eyes half-lidded in sleepiness before he let out a soft purr.

Y/N smirked faintly. "Glad one of us can relax."

Kimi merely stretched, his small body curling tighter into her. She ran a finger lightly across his soft fur, letting the rhythmic sound of his purring settle the mess in her mind. It wasn't enough to drown out the noise completely, but it was something - a small anchor in the chaos.

A chaos that only seemed to be getting worse.

Her nose still ached from the strain, and exhaustion clawed at the edges of her brain, but unfortunately, she was never alone. Not truly.

A couple floors down, someone was replaying a bitter argument in their mind, the words looping over and over like a scratched record.
Across the hall, an elderly woman was caught in a memory from decades ago-the ghost of an old love letter she never sent, the what-ifs that never stopped haunting her.
And downstairs...

A sharp, new vision hit her like a slap.

A child's voice, small and uncertain. "Mama, I think my hands are weird."

Y/N's fingers twitched. That wasn't a memory from the past. That was now.

With a quiet sigh, she pushed herself off the windowsill and grabbed her jacket.

Y/N barely locked her door before nearly colliding with someone in the hallway. A woman, mid-thirties, dark circles under her eyes, balancing two grocery bags and a tired frown. At her side was a tiny girl, no older than seven, clutching the edge of her mother's coat like it was a lifeline.

The kid was staring at her hands, turning them over, brows furrowed.

Y/N already knew what that meant.

"You're the one making noise this late?" Y/N muttered, voice low, shoving her hands into her pockets. She wasn't mad, just exhausted - but she didn't bother softening her words.

The mother blinked at her, then sighed, shifting the bags in her arms. "Sorry about that. We just got back, and... well." She glanced down at her daughter, who was still frowning at her hands like they'd personally betrayed her.

Y/N's gaze flicked between them. "Quirk?"

The mother exhaled, nodding. "It just showed up today. She's been stressed about it."

The little girl - Aiko, a name Y/N had already pulled from her mother's thoughts- finally looked up at her. Her hands twitched, and a faint, shimmery ripple ran across her fingertips, like distorted glass in the sunlight.