Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/14114313.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      僕のヒーローアカデミア_|_Boku_no_Hero_Academia_|_My_Hero_Academia
  Relationship:
      Midoriya_Izuku/Reader
  Character:
      Midoriya_Izuku, Bakugou_Katsuki, Uraraka_Ochako, Todoroki_Shouto,
      Kirishima_Eijirou, Kaminari_Denki, Yagi_Toshinori_|_All_Might, Aizawa
      Shouta_|_Eraserhead, Yamada_Hizashi_|_Present_Mic, Mineta_Minoru,
      Yaoyorozu_Momo, Ashido_Mina, Asui_Tsuyu, Reader, Iida_Tenya, Tokoyami
      Fumikage, Aoyama_Yuuga, Class_1-A_(My_Hero_Academia), Kayama_Nemuri_|
      Midnight
  Additional Tags:
      Reader-Insert, Female_Protagonist, Siren!Reader_-_Freeform, Slow_Burn,
      Reader-chan_has_issues, One-Sided_Attraction, Eventual_Smut, Implied/
      Referenced_Rape/Non-con, Love_Triangles
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-27 Chapters: 1/20 Words: 13003
****** Where the Light Hides ******
by ChibiValshe
Summary
     When your Quirk manifested for the first time, it changed your life
     forever. Every Quirk has its drawbacks, including yours, and after a
     series of falling outs with people you thought you could trust, you
     vowed never to let anyone in ever again. However, your resolve wavers
     when you apply to the world's most prestigious hero academy, U.A.
      
     [eventual Reader/Midoriya Izuku]
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
‘It hasn’t always been this complicated,’you think to yourself for what seems
like the thousandth time, watching the orange light of the late afternoon sun
throw long shadows into the empty classroom. After a few more moments, you turn
away from your distorted shadow self and sigh softly. You’ve long since stopped
fighting the faint pangs of loneliness, the emptiness lingering in the pit of
your chest, and the occasional twinge of bitter resentment of how it all turned
out. Of course you have regrets — who wouldn’t? There’s no changing the past,
however, a fact you have to keep reminding yourself over and over.
 
‘It’s better this way.’
 
You can still remember what it was like to be happy, or at least something
close to it. You can recall the warmth of your mother’s embrace, how she had
cradled your and told you she loved you. Are her beautiful golden feathers
still as soft and as glossy as they were back when you were small, when they
had tickled your chubby pink cheeks? Long ago, her smiles were as radiant as
the sun and they bathed you in a mother’s unconditional love. She had smiled at
you after her disastrous attempt at making pancakes one eventful morning, but
she made up for it by making omelette rice, your favorite, though she later
confided in you that she knew how to make a mean bowl of cereal and not much
else. You were eight then.
 
You don’t remember your father. You suppose you must’ve had one at some point
or else you wouldn’t be here. Even so, you spent many hours straining your
memory after your classmates had teased you mercilessly about not having one,
ignoring your indignant protests and how your eyes had filled with tears. After
several weeks of this, you finally broke down and told your mother what
happened, watching as her beautiful face grew stonier with every word. Soon
after that, you found yourself in a new school surrounded by new classmates,
where a girl with soft round cheeks kindly offered you a lollipop on your first
day.
 
“Your daddy is busy with work,” your mother had said, a line you parroted to
anyone who asked and still do today, even though you know now that it isn’t
true. Whenever you tried getting any information out of her, however, she
changed the subject no matter how persistent you were, so you gave up.
 
It didn’t stop you from fantasizing about him coming back into your life, and
though you weren’t sure what you’d do together once he showed since you had no
idea how dads were supposed to be like, just the though of him somewhere out
there trying to find you and magically appearing was comfort enough.
 
It used to be, anyway. You now suspect he’s either dead or doesn’t care, and a
rational part of you figures that the reason your mother’s so evasive is that
she doesn’t know what happened to him either.
 
Despite this, things were good in the beginning. Your earliest summer was spent
with your mother on a remote, tropical island off the coast, and it was there
that she taught you the beauty of song. There was something about her voice
that drew you in, something magical, and though you tried to sing along with
her, your small voice was like a candle to a bonfire — there was simply no
comparison. You marveled at the elaborate golden markings underneath her eyes
that shimmered brightly as she danced on the soft white sand. During the early
mornings, she’d stretch her magnificent golden wings and rise with the sun,
flying high in the sky and filling the air with a song so beautiful you thought
she alone brought the dawn. Her evening lullabies were soothing and never
failed to lull you to sleep.
 
She was everything you wanted to be. Someone so wonderful needed to be shared
with the world. At least that’s how you saw it.
 
“You should ask your new friends to visit this island next summer,” she says
softly.The sun is setting and the soft sand feels warm between your toes. The
sultry air is making you sleepy and you lean back against her chest, making
yourself comfortable as you sit between her legs. Her large golden wings come
forward automatically, enveloping you in a soft, feathery hug.
 
“Really? They can come?” you ask happily, excitedly thinking of their reactions
to this beautiful place.
 
“Yes. It’ll be so much fun, don’t you think?” You can tell she’s smiling, and
when you raise your head to look up at her, her smile widens in a way that
makes her look absolutely radiant. You hope she keeps looking at you that way.
She hums happily for a moment as you look back at the sunset and snuggle
closer. “I’m sure their moms would let them come here.”
 
A flicker of doubt arises. “But what if their mommies say no?”
 
She holds you closer at this, and something in the air changes. You’re not sure
you like it.
 
“They won’t.”
 
You wanted to be just like her: just as beautiful, talented, and amazing as she
was. You weren’t sure what her Quirk was then, but if it gave you pretty wings
like hers, that was just fine with you. You practically idolized her.
 
It happened at four and a half years old, when you woke one morning with
delicate, soft pink markings adorning your face, starting from your temples and
ending underneath the corners of your eyes. No longer did you have to watch
your classmates with envy as their Quirks manifested all around you. Your
mother wasn’t there to witness it happening, but you were excited to show your
best friend in the whole wide world, so it wasn’t a complete loss.
 
“Wow, that looks so nice!” gushes Miki as she bobs up and down in excitement,
soft round cheeks flooding with color. “They’re just like your mom’s! Are you
gonna get pretty wings, too? Can you fly? You’re soooo lucky!” As she talks,
little pink blossoms begin to bloom in her short brown hair.
 
“My mommy says she got her wings right away,” you reply glumly, running your
finger over a colorful band-aid placed on your elbow, a souvenir from earlier
that morning. You had practically barreled down the large staircase in your
haste to find your mother, and halfway down, realized your feet were no longer
touching the ground and you flew straight into the arms of a startled housemaid
who happened to be walking by.
 
Some of her earlier enthusiasm seems to ebb away and her face falls a little.
“So...you can’t fly, then?” she says, and a few flowers drop and lightly land
on your desk. Her disappointment is clearly etched on her face.
 
You brush away the fallen blossoms just as your teacher enters the room to
begin the day’s lesson, and you feel a slow smile unfurl on your lips. “I
didn’t say that...”
 
You end up going to the Quirk Registration Office with your mother later that
weekend, and you can’t help but glow with happiness at the way she looks at you
with pride. “You’re just like me,” she says tenderly, and the idea that you’re
going to shine as brightly as her one day is exciting. It’s what you’ve always
wanted…
 
“My little star...”
 
The name of your Quirk is written in unfamiliar characters and as you hold the
form in your small hands, you frown. “I don’t get it,” you mumble moodily,
tilting the paper this way and that.
 
“It says ‘siren’, sweetheart,” answers your mother with a comforting hand on
your head, smiling at the nice man sitting across from you who is practically
bending over backwards to assist her. “You have Mommy’s Quirk. People will like
you too much if you sing or dance around them. Even looking them in the eye
will do that, so try not to until you can learn to control it, okay?” She looks
down at you and gently runs her fingers through your hair. It feels nice.
 
“They might...like me too much?”
 
“Yes, darling.”
 
You pause before saying, “What’s so bad about that?” and her smile widens ever
so slightly.
 
Life after that became remarkably uncomplicated and easy. You had many friends,
but the one constant in your life was Miki, who held your hand and had a
special smile just for you. You remember how she had begged her very stern-
looking parents to let you spend the night, and in hindsight, they were
probably just overprotective.
 
It wasn’t until they met you and your mother that they came around, just like
that. It was almost eerie, but you chose not to question it, nor did you
question why her home wasn’t a grandiose manor or why she didn’t have servants
like you did. At least not out loud, anyway.
 
How wonderful it was to be loved by many. You never used your Quirk on anyone,
but after the markings appeared, people seemed to be inexplicably drawn to you.
It was a little strange at first, but you quickly learned to adapt, and you
became a magnet to the friendless, and maybe your smiles were a little hard to
come by — it didn’t seem to deter anyone. You didn’t mind much, especially
since you started seeing your mother less and less as the years wore on. Your
schoolmates marveled at the vast halls of the manor in which you lived in,
delighted at all of its secret passageways, and were especially keen on a room
full of toys you had previously taken for granted.
 
They were a nice distraction from the occasional pangs of loneliness, but it
wasn’t enough to fill the void left from your mother’s continued absence, so
you took vocal training and dance lessons as a way to connect with her in
spirit. It was a bit intense, but you persevered, and it became easy to lose
yourself to the music created from the songs that came forth from your lips or
woven into the steps you danced.
 
Your schedule was rather full for a time, but that didn’t stop you from seeing
your mother on billboards and even on television. She glowed like the sun, and
on the rare occasion you happened to be watching, you stared with awe at how
easily she captured the audience’s attention with a smile here or a wink there,
and it didn’t seem to matter where she was. Sometimes she was singing for
crowds of fans; other times she starred in dramas as the lead, and later went
on to win awards for movie roles she played. Once, she brought you on set, and
the only thing you remember about it was feeling very bored as hordes of
strangers seemed to do little else but gush and fawn over you. “You’re such a
cute little girl,” they’d say. “You’ll be just as beautiful as your mom
someday.”
 
You seriously doubted this, but when you entered middle school, puberty hit you
fast and hard, and it was awful. You matured faster than your friends, and
perhaps you had changed more than you realized because now you attracted stares
and whispers of awe wherever you went. Unfortunately, your mother was mostly
absent throughout this and one of the maids had to explain to you how to put on
a sanitary napkin, which embarrassed you both.
 
But Miki was there, who was supportive and kind, and she never failed to smile
in that special way of hers. She’d sometime poke your growing chest with a hoot
of laughter, then lose it whenever you squawked indignantly. After a while,
however, a tightness grew around her eyes that hadn’t been there before.
 
“Hey, is there anyone you like?” she says out of the blue one sunny afternoon.
You’re both doing homework in your room, and it’s just the two of you today, a
rare occurrence, but you don’t mind very much. Your other friends can get
pretty loud and make it hard to get your work done on time.
 
Your response is immediate. “Ick,” you mutter without looking up from the
equation you’ve been sweating over for the past ten minutes. Math is hard.
 
She hesitates for only a moment before saying, “Then...do you think I should
confess my feelings to Hiro-kun?” Her voice is soft and unsure. You think you
know which boy she’s talking about — someone rather tall with a slow smile that
had many girls batting their eyes in his direction. Miki suddenly giggles
nervously, and judging from how muffled it sounds, she’s buried her face into
one of your star-shaped pillows. “I think he likes me,” she says, re-emerging.
“I always catch him staring at me when he thinks I’m not looking. He’s not
subtle at all.”
 
“I say go for it,” you say, grinning. You finally glance up and are unsurprised
to see a wreath of pretty pink blossoms forming on her head. “Just don’t forget
about me when you guys become a couple and get all lovey-dovey, okay?”
 
She throws a pillow at you and it hits you in the face. “I’m not going to, you
goof!” she says, laughing cheerfully. Several more flowers bloom in her hair,
and her soft round cheeks flush happily. You’ve never seen her this giggly
before. “Oh, now I’m getting all nervous! When do you think I should ask him
out?”
 
“Whenever, I guess,” you say. “There’s really no rush if you’re sure he likes
you, so don’t worry about it too much.”
 
“Easy for you to say,” says Miki with a snort. “Guys confess to you all the
time.”
 
“Yeah, but I can appreciate how hard it is to pour your feelings out like
that,” you answer sagely. “All that effort, only to get rejected...”
 
“Great, now I’m having second thoughts.”
 
“I guess it’s good your boyfriend-to-be isn’t me,” you say good-naturedly. “But
I doubt he’d turn you down.”
 
“...You think so?”
 
“If he does, he’s an idiot and you deserve better.”
 
Your brow furrows at the memory and you rest your chin on your hands. You’re
not sure what you could’ve done differently, but what came next changed the
course of your life. The school is empty, surely, but the thought of going home
to an equally empty manor isn’t very appealing. You close your eyes and lose
yourself within your memories once again.
 
“Can I say something?” Hiro says suddenly in the middle of your sentence. You
tilt your head, bemused, and nod. He’s fidgeting a little, and you’re starting
to wonder what has him so on edge when he breaks the silence. “The truth is…
I’ve always liked you!” he stammers, blushing furiously. “I think you’re really
pretty and ever since I saw you at the club festival, I’ve—” He cuts himself
off and takes a deep breath before bowing. “Please go out with me!”
 
Stunned silence fills the empty classroom, and you struggle to speak. This
isn’t happening. This has to be a joke, right? But Hiro is looking at you so
seriously, and it’s all you can do to remain standing. Your thoughts race
frantically, but your brain seems to have jammed and can’t process them
properly. You had only wanted to ask how he felt about Miki and now…
 
Oh, Miki…
 
“But you always,” you begin in a shaky voice and he leans forward a little,
“you were always looking at Miki...weren’t you?” You’re desperately clutching
at straws, hoping that maybe this is all a bad dream, but your worst fears are
confirmed when Hiro frowns, confused.
 
“Miki…? Oh!” he exclaims, realization dawning on his face. “You mean Harada-
san!” You feel something heavy fall to the pit of your stomach as he laughs
nervously. “I wasn’t looking at her. You guys always sit together and I,
uh...couldn’t help staring at you. Not in a creepy way or anything!” he adds
hastily. “I just...I mean, I guess she’s cute in her own way, but she’s not
really my type.” He smiles sheepishly and shrugs, cheeks flushing again. “It’s
always been you.”
 
What.
 
The.
 
Hell.
 
There’s really only one thing to do in this situation, and it’s not going to be
pretty. You owe it to your best friend. It’s going to hurt, there’s no
sugarcoating that, but you need to be there for her just as she’s always been
there for you. Had you been in her situation, you know she’d do the same.
 
“I’m sorry.” Your voice is firm, and trying not to look too closely at his
crestfallen expression, you continue. “I can’t go out with you. I’m flattered,
but I don’t feel the same.” There. Now there can be no doubts about this, no
misunderstandings. You’re sure of it.
 
The next day, you find it easy to avoid Hiro, who keeps his distance in subdued
silence. Your classes are a blur, though Miki seems restless. She keeps trying
to catch your eye, and for a horrifying moment, you’re sure she found out about
yesterday, but when you look at her questioningly while trying to ignore the
guilty pangs in your heart, she only grins at you. You decide to ask her about
it during break, but she just smiles mysteriously and assures you she’ll tell
you soon. You’re glad she’s not upset, judging by the amount of flowers in her
hair, but you have a sneaking suspicion.
 
You find out later in the cafeteria during lunch, and you suspect she waited
until now for maximum effect. Your group of friends are all giggling
hysterically at the envelope in Miki’s hands, and she takes their teasing with
good grace as she laughs along with the rest of them. You’re not paying
attention to any of it. All you can think about is how Hiro isn’t good enough
for her, that he’ll ruthlessly break her heart just like you broke his, and
picturing the little pink flowers wilting in her hair as he rejects her is more
than you can stand.
 
“Don’t do it, Miki.” Your voice cuts through the chatter like a knife, and all
of your friends fall into a confused silence, but you don’t take your eyes away
from your closest companion.
 
“Um...what?” She tries to smile, but the corners of her lips don’t quite turn
up the way they should, and her voice isn’t as steady as it normally is. “Why
would you say that?”
 
Everyone stares at you with an intensity that makes you feel extremely
uncomfortable. “Um, well...it’s just,” you stammer, “he’s not...I mean...you
know...” This isn’t turning out the way you had rehearsed in your head, and the
longer you speak, the more you begin to lose your nerve. You try to focus and
take a deep breath, but guilt,overwhelmingguilt keeps your eyes glued to the
table. “Yesterday, I tried talking to him to ask what he thought about you,
but...I never got the chance.” You refrain from looking up. “He, uh...he said
he...” Your cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and shame, and you
inwardly kick yourself for looking like an idiot. “He kinda...well he...he,
um...asked me out,” you finish lamely, and you actually wince at how dumb that
sounds. The lack of response isn’t encouraging, so you finally look up,
frantically waving your hands to explain yourself. “I turned him down right
away, though! I made my feelings very clear that I wasn’t into him, so...” You
trail off at the look on Miki’s face, and everything you had been planning to
say dies in your throat.
 
“Hiro-kun...said that?” she says so quietly it’s easy to miss in the din of the
cafeteria. “He confessed to you?” She lets out a disbelieving huff, her not-
quite smile still on her lips, and you’re horrified to see her eyes welling up
with tears. “You mean...I never even had a chance?” Miki’s voice breaks at the
last word and her face scrunches up in the moment it takes to bury in it in her
hands. Her shoulders begin to shake, and right now you feel like the most
despicable human being in the world.
 
“Oh no...Miki...” says a friend sitting next to her, placing a comforting hand
on her shoulder, and the group moves as one, offering sympathy and words of
encouragement as you sit there numbly, hands slumping uselessly at your sides.
This is all wrong. You didn’t mean to make her cry. As she gives a hearty
sniffle, everyone closes ranks while you watch her miserably. You were supposed
to be the one to shepherd her through her first heartbreak, but now that it
turned out like this…
 
If you had never spoken to Hiro, would he have turned her down just as harshly
as you had done? Would he have mentioned his feelings for you in his rejection?
You don’t know for sure, but none of that matters now. Guilt curls your
shoulders forward as you stare at your half-eaten lunch. You caused
this.You’rethe reason she’s so miserable right now, and even if it isn’t
entirely your fault, you were still the catalyst.
 
“I’m...so sorry, Miki,” you mutter quietly. You never meant for things to turn
out this way. You had only wanted to help…
 
A tense silence follows and her sniffles subside.
 
“You’resorry?” she finally says, and her voice has changed so dramatically that
it wrenches your eyes upward to lock onto hers. She’s fixing you with a glare
filled with so much hostility that you actually recoil a little. Her whole body
starts to shake for an entirely different reason now. “You’resorry?!” Her
shriek causes the noise in the cafeteria to die down, and every eye is on the
disaster unfolding in front of you.
 
“Miki…?” You’re dimly aware of how meek and timid your voice sounds amid your
stunned disbelief. “What…?”
 
“Oh, that’s justrichcoming from you!” she laughs humorlessly. “I told you how I
felt about him, youknew, and I trusted you with my secret, but likealways,you
had to stick your nose in it and ruin everything!” She takes on a mocking,
simpering tone as she continues, ignoring the hurt look on your face. “Oh, I’m
Little Miss Perfect and I have everything I could ever possibly want—looks,
talent, money, and oh, my mom’ssuperfamous, too!” Her chest heaves with
unbridled anger, and she stabs an accusatory finger at you. “You’ve never had
to work for a damn thing in your life,ever,and do you know why? Because all you
have to do is bat those pretty little eyes of yours and everyone bends over
backwards for you. Even the teachers fall for your trick and it makes me sick!”
 
Every insult stabs through you like physical pain and it isn’t long before your
vision starts to blur. Something breaks between you two, and it’s all you can
do not to fall apart.
 
“You couldn’t let me have this one thing, but noooo, everything always has to
be about you, doesn’t it? It must’ve been so easy to steal him from me, huh?
All you had to do was use that awful Quirk of yours because it isn’t enough to
have everyone fawning over you, it’sneverenough to stroke that ego of yours, so
when something was finally going my way, you just took it for yourself. All
they guys already want you, so why didn’t you just let me have this?!” She
suddenly rises from her seat. Nobody moves. Fury rolls off her in waves, and
the bright cheerful girl you’ve known most of your life is gone. “I hate you!”
she screams as tears roll down her cheeks. “I hate you and I never want to see
you again!”
 
Something inside you finally breaks and you bolt from the cafeteria, heedless
of whom you bump into. You find yourself in a nearby restroom and lock yourself
in a stall, taking large gulps of air as you begin to cry in earnest. It’s so
hard to breathe, but it’s impossible to stop once you’ve started because Miki
had been your best friend and it killed you to hear her say those things about
you. You desperately want to believe it had just been an angry outburst, but a
part of you knows better. That wasyearsof pent up frustration and anger, and
Hiro’s confession was most likely the final straw. She didn’t just wake up one
morning and decide to hate you, which makes it all the more horrible because
now you’re not exactly sure when she stopped seeing you as a friend. When did
the truth stop and the lies begin?
 
The fact of the matter is, you had never used your Quirk on that boy, not once.
You know exactly what it does to people, and the first couple of times you
activated it by accident had incredibly creepy results. Their eyes would grow
unfocused and you’d put them into a sort of trance, not to mention persuading
them to do anything was remarkably easy. It didn’t matter who it was — they
just became mindless zombies. The implications of that stuck with you, and
considering it was so easy to pull off, you started avoiding eye contact just
in case it ever happened again.
 
So why…?
 
The bell chimes overhead, signaling the end of lunch, but you make no move to
get up. The thought of facing Miki with puffy eyes and seeing her clear dislike
on her face and the rest of your friends’ silent refusal to help is more than
you can bear. What would you even say to each other anyway? She lost the boy
she liked to someone who had no stakes in the game but lost everything in the
end.
 
You don’t know how much time passes, but by the time you calm down enough to
stand up, your head is pounding and you have an incredibly stuffy nose. You’re
so drained that going back to class is the furthest thing from your mind. So
you just leave, only stopping to change your shoes. Your bag will probably wind
up in the lost and found office, so you make a mental note to pick it up
tomorrow.
 
When you get home, you’re a dazed mess, hair in disarray with puffy red eyes to
complete the image. You don’t even sleep that night and spend it staring
listlessly at your phone, waiting for a text that never comes. Maybe it’s
stupid to hope that Miki would apologize or even attempt to make amends, but
when you try calling her, all you get is an automated message saying the caller
is unavailable.
 
Morning comes slowly, and when you get ready for the day you notice faint dark
circles under your eyes and your haggard expression, but you can’t bring
yourself to care that much. On the drive to school, you’re tempted to tell the
driver to turn around and take you back home, but you can’t do it. There’s no
telling what’s waiting for you, and putting it off won’t make it better.
Besides, it can’t leave you feeling any worse than you already are.
 
Right?
 
You’re proven wrong the minute you step into your classroom and are immediately
assaulted by a wave of whispers and accusatory stares directed towards you by a
rather large cluster of people near the back, and you’re saddened to see a
majority of your former friends huddled there as well. They don’t stop even as
you take a seat, feeling thoroughly downtrodden.
 
The rest of the day continues in much the same manner, and even though you’re a
little surprised to see Miki, she doesn’t acknowledge your presence at all. You
spend lunch alone on a secluded staircase, and any hope of one of your other
friends coming forward to talk to you is extinguished. You gather that they
either believed Miki’s outburst yesterday or have stronger ties to her in some
way, but the former seems much more likely.
 
You grit your teeth in anger and pull your knees closer to your chest. The
unfairness of it all is starting to get to you, and you know that even if you
tried to force them to listen to you, they’d get the wrong idea and that you’d
use your Quirk, which is incredibly stupid the more you think about it. Aside
from the face that you make it a point not to activate it around anyone,
they’dknowif they were being subjected to it. It’s not exactly easy to miss.
 
You’ve never knowingly used your Quirk on anyone!
 
...At least you don’t think you have.
 
When you arrive home later that day, you’re vaguely surprised to find your
mother there with her hair pulled back into an elegant bun and an excited smile
on her face, looking impeccably stylish in light, expensive-looking clothes.
She’s in the arms of a tall, older man, and it takes her a minute to notice you
standing there.
 
“Darling!” she squeals happily, pulling away from him and darting forward to
straighten your hair. Her soft cool hands cup your cheeks and you can’t help
but notice how nice she smells. “We were just talking about you!”
 
After what happened today, this immediately puts you on edge, and you step back
with a guarded look. “What about?” you ask. You don’t mean to sound so sullen
and hostile, but your mother doesn’t seem fazed. She simply smiles and takes
your hands in hers, and you don’t pull away this time.
 
“Good afternoon, young miss,” says the man. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you
from your mother, all good things, mind you. I look forward to working with you
because if you’re half as good as she says you are, then we’ve got plenty to be
excited about.”
 
You blink in confusion, wondering what he’s getting at. “Huh?” comes your
intelligent reply.
 
“Let me tell her, Ichirou-san,” she admonishes playfully, then turns to look at
you. “Sweetie, I’ve been thinking...” Her voice grows gentle and you can tell
by the way she’s running her thumbs over your hands that she wants something,
but you can’t seem to get your thoughts in order to figure out what it is. “I
know how hard you’ve been working these past several years, what with all these
lessons, and I want you to know how very proud I am, darling.” You’re touched,
but still not sure what she’s getting at, and she continues. “So I’ve decided
that this world needs a shining star to heal people’s hearts in a way that only
you can do. You have so much potential to be something great, and someone like
you shouldn’t have to be hidden away from the world. You could be everyone’s
guiding light.”
 
Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. Putting aside the fact that she can say
something that corny with a straight face, you start to feel a hint of
admiration. So all those years of hard work hadn’t gone as unnoticed as you had
initially thought. Even so, this line of thinking is unprecedented. Sure,
you’ve entertained the idea several times as a child during your All Might
phase, but to actually consider…
 
After the mess that happened at school, you must admit this is a welcome
change, even a relief. Your mother’s appearances are definitely few and far
between now, but there’s a part of you that is glad for her vote of confidence,
her faith in you. If you go through with this, it wouldn’t matter if no one
likes you now. You can prove them wrong, you canbesomeone. Someone who
selflessly saves others and becomes a symbol of hope.
 
Like All Might.
 
“...so we should get started right away, don’t you think?”
 
You come back to your senses with a start as your brain struggles to catch up.
“Get what started?” you ask, though you feel a trickle of excitement. It’s
almost too good to be true, but you can’t stop the swell of hopefulness rising
in you.
 
“Oh, you silly goose,” your mother says, beaming brightly. “Did you tune me out
again?” She glances at Ichirou, who smiles back and chuckles indulgently. “I’m
talking about your debut!”
 
This gives you pause and you frown. “Hold on...don’t you have to go through a
hero program before you can even make your debut?” you ask quizzically. You
appreciate your mother’s enthusiasm for the idea, but you have to admit, it’s a
bit much and unrealistic, besides.
 
She blinks for a moment in stunned silence before bursting into laughter. “Hero
program?” she repeats incredulously after she calms down enough to talk. “No,
that’s not...” She shakes her head before her hands grip yours a little more
tightly. “I’m talking about your idol debut! That’s how I started out, do you
remember? I told you all about it when you were little.” She wiggles in place
in her excitement, and her wings actually start to unfurl. “Oh, this is going
to be wonderful! We can go through my agency — they’re so good at coming up
with angles. Your training can also be a bit more fine tuned for the image
you’re going to present to the audience, I suppose. What do you think, Ichirou-
san?” she asks, turning to him.
 
She’s still babbling, but you’ve effectively tuned her out. You can feel
yourself shaking in anger, but neither of them seem to notice. The last thing
you want —especiallyafter today — is to be paraded around for the masses in
whatever contrived image some corporate big shot decides for you, and the
thought of prancing and preening for strangers makes you sick. You’d only be
proving Miki right in doing so, that you actually do crave attention and want
to have everyone fawning over you when that’s the last thing you need. It isn’t
you, not in the slightest, and as far as you’re concerned, you’re not going to
start using your Quirk as an easy way to get through life the way everyone
thinks you are.
 
“No,” you say quietly, and the chill in your voice is palpable. You wrench your
hands away from your mother’s grip, feeling somehow betrayed. “I’m not doing
this.”
 
She stares at you. “Oh, sweetie, of course you are! Ichirou-san thought you
should star in commercials first, but I thought it would be such a waste of
your talent, so I thought—”
 
“I said no!” you bellow angrily. Tears begin to fill your vision you furiously
wipe them away, embarrassed at crying in front of her and this stranger. “I
don’t want to do this! What about school and—” The mere mention of your school
pulls you up short and you choke on your words, too overwhelmed to continue.
 
For the first time, her smile falters and she holds up a soothing hand. “Oh,
honey… I know it’s a lot to spring on you all at once, but if it’s your
education you’re worried about, you can always go to a performing arts academy.
It’s the least I can do to help you ou—”
 
The dam breaks and everything comes rushing forth in an angry torrent. “No!Why
don’t you ever listen to me?!” Tears pour freely onto your cheeks and you can
just make out their stunned faces. The world starts to feel a little unsteady
and you’re struck by just how tired you are. “What gives you the right to think
you know what’s best for me?! I’m so fed up with this shit! You don’t know jack
about me anymore, and you think you can just waltz back into my life and decide
how I should live?!” Your face crumples and it’s all too much. You can’t handle
it anymore. “I’m not you, okay?! I never want to be like you!”
 
You turn and bolt away in the opposite direction, taking a nearby passageway
that leads straight to your room. Once inside, you throw yourself down onto
your bed. Grabbing a nearby star-shaped pillow, you hold it to your face and
start screaming into it. Miki’s faint scent stubbornly lingers and you fall
apart, crying even harder than you did in the restroom stall. It seems
incredible that you were smiling and laughing with your friends only two days
ago.
 
You miss them. It was easy to forget how loudly your lone footsteps echo in
these vast hallways, how large and empty your room is without their presence.
You wish you had never met Hiro. You hate your Quirk so much right now, and you
think how much better things could’ve been with Miki instead of this. It hurts
so much.
 
After several minutes, you hear soft, tentative footsteps cross your bedroom
floor before long slender fingers thread themselves through your hair, and you
stop crying at once. You know who it is, yet you can’t bring yourself to pull
away. For a moment, you simply lie there as your mother gently brushes your
long hair, and despite your best efforts, a few stubborn tears manage to escape
onto your already soaked pillow.
 
“Sweetie...is everything okay? I didn’t mean to upset you,” she says quietly.
She sounds genuinely sorry and a lot more subdued than her usual self.
 
You sniffle before sitting up and wiping your eyes. You know you must look
awful because she wordlessly hands you a tissue box and you take one, clearing
your nose. There’s a throbbing ache in your temple and all you want to do right
now is sleep. For a long moment, you don’t speak. She doesn’t rush you,
surprisingly, and when you finally look up into her eyes, her features are
laced with concern.
 
You glance away and stare at a distant corner of your room. A signed All Might
poster hangs there, looking out of place with the decor of your room, but
you’ve kept it for ages. It had been a birthday gift from your mother, you
recall vaguely. Your hero’s image gives you the strength to speak and you take
a shaky breath.
 
“Has your Quirk ever led to a misunderstanding?” you ask quietly.
 
“A misunderstanding, huh?” she repeats, leaning back against her hand. “Did
something happen at school?”
 
You don’t answer, but she correctly interprets your silence and smiles softly
in a way that strikes you as almost sad.
 
“I figured as much. It happened to me all the time in high school.” Catching
your surprised look, she smiles faintly in understanding. “People less talented
and those who had something to prove always said that I cheated through life
using my Quirk, and it was especially bad after auditions.” She huffs slightly.
“I was surrounded by people who either wanted something out of me or just hated
my guts.” She reaches forward and paces a hand over yours and you resist the
urge to pull away. “Even after all that, I still loved my Quirk. Knowing that I
can enthrall an entire nation with a single look, a song, or a dance...it’s
what I’ve always wanted to do. Sure, you get a lot of people saying that pro
heroes are the real beacons of hope, but what I do is good, too. I like making
people happy with my performances, and honestly, it feels nice to life their
spirits in my own way.”
 
You frown slightly. “But...”
 
“Darling, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You’re growing up to be a
beautiful young woman with the kind of gift many people would die for, and the
kind of opportunities you’ve been given can give you a real edge in this world.
Whatever happened at school, sweetie...” She sighs softly and runs her thumb
across the back of your hand. “It’s okay to be sad about it. There’s nothing
wrong with being sad, but...if there’s one thing that’s stuck with me, it’s
that life won’t wait for you.” She gets an unusually serious look and her eyes
focus on something unseen, and you wonder what she’s thinking about. “It’s okay
to be selfish and take what you want because if you wait too long, you’ll lose
it one way or another.”
 
You’re not sure if you like this since it doesn’t really help with your issue,
and being selfish isn’t going to bring Miki or any of your friends back.
Nothing’s changed, and suddenly becoming comfortable with your Quirk won’t
solve your problems. In fact, the mere thought of it being used destroyed your
friendships.
 
She seems to sense your hesitation because she pats your head. “Maybe we can
skip your lessons for today, honey. I always give myself a break from work
every once in a while, too.”
 
‘So how come you hardly ever spend it here?’you think dully, but something in
you hunches over in defeat. From the sounds of things, she still wants you to
perform someday, but you’re much too tired to argue and the last thing you need
is a screaming match with your mother.
 
“If school’s bothering you that much, I can always transfer you to a new one,”
she suggests, standing up and stretching. “Maybe one that’s a little
more...artsy? Why you ever wanted to go to the one you’re in now is beyond me,
honestly...”
 
The thought of moving schools in the middle of the year is abhorrent and
definitely one you don’t need right now, so you quietly shake your head.
 
“No? Then how about changing classrooms? Would that clear your head a bit?”
 
You heave a sigh and nod, though you’re only going along with it because you
know she’ll continue in this vein until you actually agree. You watch her
wearily as she bobs around the room, babbling animatedly and undoubtedly
congratulating herself on being a good parent. Transferring at this point in
the year would be a logistical nightmare, but as she turns to you with a
beaming smile, you wryly think she can have it arranged in next to no time at
all.
 
Not two days later, you find yourself standing in front of a classroom full of
people you don’t know. Expression s of great interest surround you as you bow
and formally introduce yourself, but you keep your eyes glued to the floor. You
end up taking a seat by the window in the back corner, though you’re not sure
if this is a good thing or not because while you’re glad you don’t have to look
at Miki anymore, you quickly grow tired of people people craning their necks to
look back at you throughout the lesson.
 
During your first break, you’re immediately surrounded by a handful of girls
while many of the guys hang back, trying (and failing miserably) to look
nonchalant. Feeling it would be rude to ignore them, you slowly put down your
book and sigh inwardly. You can only hope they’re at least somewhat friendly,
but after recent events, you keep your face neutral. If they don’t have good
intentions, you can’t show any weakness.
 
“Hey, new kid,” says the girl directly in front of you. Her hair is stylishly
short in a side-swept pixie cut, and she smiles at you in a way that puts you
on your guard. “Name’s Ami. Gosh, I absolutelyloveyour hair! What conditioner
do you use?” She says this all of this very fast and you blink, feeling a
little overwhelmed.
 
“Has anyone told you that you look like a younger version of Astra?” chirps
another girl with what you think is a mixture of admiration and envy — it’s
hard to tell. “Some girls are just born lucky, I guess, I’m Risa, by the way.”
When you glance at her, you can’t help but notice her perfectly curled hair and
a faint whiff of perfume that strikes you as somewhat familiar.
 
“Astra?” you ask, even though the name tugs at your memory.
 
They giggle at this and you’re left feeling a little dumb. Luckily, Risa comes
to your rescue pretty quickly. “You know...Astra!She’s super famous and stuff.
I got my parents to buy me her perfume, even. It was kinda pricey, but I just
had to have it.”
 
Another girl with short, bobbed hair nods. “We’re all pretty big fans.” She
pulls out her phone and hands it to you. “I have a poster like this at home,
but I keep this as my wallpaper to motivate me.” She twiddles her fingers
together in a nervous gesture. “I’m Michiru. It’s nice to meet you.”
 
“Likewise,” you respond, figuring it would be the height of bad manners not to
and glance down at the lock screen. It’s like being punched in the gut. Caught
with a rapturous expression and arms raised to the heavens is your mother
dressed in an intricate backless gossamer dress, golden wings spread wide and
looking almost too ethereal to be human. You notice special care has been taken
to highlight the markings around her eyes because you’ve never seen them glow
like that.
 
“Oh...yeah, I remember now,” you finally mutter flatly, but they don’t seem to
notice your change in demeanor.
 
It’s strange, though. They’re pretty chatty and are almost too relaxed around
you in an unnerving kind of way. Still, the more you get to know them, the more
you lower your guard . At this point in time, you can’t afford to be picky even
if they’re not people you’d normally hang out with. If you’re being honest with
yourself, it’s nice to be around company after the last few days you’ve had.
 
“So we were thinking...” says Ami near the end of break. “Do you want to sit
with us during lunch?”
 
A small knot forms in the pit of your stomach. “Not...in the cafeteria, right?”
you say in what you hope sounds casual , but your body tenses despite your best
efforts.
 
Risa wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “Yuck, no,” she says dismissively.
“It’s way too crowded in there.”
 
“Sometimes we eat here, but we mostly go on the roofwhen the weather’s nice,”
says Michiru. “The door’s always locked, but getting up there’s a cinch if
you’ve got the right Quirk.”
 
“So what you do say, newbie? You coming with us or not?” says Ami, and it’s
clear she’s expecting you to say yes.
 
“...Sure,” you answer after a moment, feeling a little better as they all grow
visibly happier. They quickly exchange numbers with you just as your break
ends, which loosens the knot in your stomach a little. You do notice Miki’s
phone number in your list of contacts, however, but you only give it a pensive
frown and make a mental note to delete it later. Now that you’re not alone
anymore, you don’t feel as heavy-hearted as you did a few days ago.
 
As the day wears on, you find yourself enjoying their company, and while
they’re a bit of a giggly sort and spend more time gossiping than anything
else, they make an effort to make you feel included, even if you are out of
your element. The fiasco that happened with Miki almost seems like a bad dream,
as if it had happened to someone else. You even feel good enough to accept
their invitation to hang out with your new companions after school even though
you’d normally head straight home to do your lessons. After all, what’s one day
missed?
 
However, when they lead you into a karaoke joint, you immediately hang back,
suddenly feeling a strong sense of trepidation, but they only laugh at your
hesitation and before you know it, you’re in a private booth with an array of
fruity drinks on the table in front of you. You don’t do much except sit
quietly and take small sips while they have fun choosing various songs. Risa
sings very well despite having no formal training, while Ami seems to enjoy
herself immensely and eventually dissolves into hysterics when she accidentally
burps during the middle of a song and can’t continue.
 
After Michiru has a turn singing, she unexpectedly hands you the mic and you
fumble with it, nearly dropping it, and shake your head. Everyone looks at you
quizzically, but you lower your eyes and half-heartedly make an excuse, but you
can tell they’re not buying it.
 
“C’mon, it’s really fun!” says Ami bracingly as everyone makes noises of
agreement. “We won’t laugh, we promise.”
 
“I don’t...I mean, I don’t really...know a lot of these songs,” you mumble
nervously, but you might as well have said nothing for all the good it does.
 
“There’s bound to be at least one,” comments Michiru sagely, adjusting her
glasses. “It doesn’t matter to us if you’re not that good at singing.”
 
“It definitely doesn’t stop Ami-chan here,” says Risa slyly, and the whole
group bursts into laughter. When they finally settle down, she reaches over and
grips your shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. “Just one, then?”
 
Youreallydon’t want to do this. If you sing, you’ll undoubtedly enthrall them
and after what happened recently, you’re not exactly keen on answering awkward
questions regarding your Quirk. It might lead to another misunderstanding, and
the thought of going through another dramatic episode is more than you can
bear. The only consolation to this is that you haven’t known them very long.
You wonder if there’s some kind of record for the most number of ruined
friendships in a single week…
 
Shakily getting to your feet, you slowly peruse the song menu while listening
to their previews, though none seem familiar to you. You do come across several
of your mother’s songs, which range from jazzy to slow ballads, but you steer
clear of those. Trying to stop the trembling in your hands is proving
impossible, however, but your group doesn’t point it out, most likely thinking
it’s due to nerves.
 
You pause at a song that you actually do know, one that you’ve secretly
practiced on your own, mostly because it’s not that hard to follow and even
though the lyrics are in English, you know enough to discern its sweeping
instrumentals and uplifting message to make a go of it. Still, you hesitate.
You have never actually sung in front of a live audience before. Even your
lessons were never done face-to-face, as your instructors preferred to watch
you through a camera since they wanted to offer critique without impaired
judgment.
 
“Do this one!” says Ami excitedly. She bounces a little in her seat as the rest
of the groupeggsyouon,and you sigh softly. There’s no getting out of this
anymore.
 
Your heart’s about to beat out of your chest, but you reluctantly press play on
the panel in front of you. The place is filled with shushing noises as they sit
back, and the last thing you see before you close your eyes are their excited
grins.
 
The first notes thrum throughout the room, a curious blend of strings and
trumpets underscored by a heavy bass beat, and you draw in a shaky breath and
bring the microphone to your lips. Your last fleeting thought is that you’re
glad this room is soundproofed before you start to sing.
 
Almost immediately, you lose yourself in the song’s sweeping melody as it
washes over you in a way that nothing else can. Even your nervousness fades
away. The piece isn’t difficult and while it doesn’t showcase your full
potential, it’s special to you. The lyrics are heartening and bring a message
of hope and courage that reminds you of your hero, All Might.
 
All too soon, the song comes to an end and as you sing the last wavering note,
you feel a modicum of relief as some of the tension leaves your shoulders, even
though you’re almost sad to see it end. The room is silent, so you slowly open
your eyes, wondering for a fleeting second how it would be if your Quirk had
gone to someone else, or better yet, didn’t exist at all.
 
Because when you take a closer glance at your companions, you’re not surprised
to see their dazed expressions, pupils blown wide and mouths slightly agape. A
feeling courses through you before you abruptly cut off the flow, like a thread
being snapped, and they blink, coming back to their senses.
 
You should’ve known better. Coming to a karaoke joint had been an insanely
reckless idea, and you have no one to blame but yourself. You can’t stop the
stricken look that crosses your face, so you duck your head and let your hand
fall to your side, clutching at the microphone tightly. Now they’ll leave. Now
you’ll be alone again.
 
“What...was that?” says Risa, and you raise your eyes to look at her. She looks
awed instead of frightened, which isn’t what you were expecting. Her face
splits into a grin. “That’s amazing! I didn’t know you could sing like that!”
 
“I’m so jealous!” squeals Ami with a giggle at your reddening cheeks. “You can
give Astra a run for her money!”
 
“Hang on,” interjects Michiru, cutting through the excitement. She fixes you
with a scrutinizing look and your stomach sinks unpleasantly. “Something
happened to us while you were singing. Don’t get me wrong, you’rereallygood,
but the feeling I got was weird, like some part of my mind wasn’t really
there.”
 
The other two blink in surprise before they all look at you with a hint of
uncertainty and you slowly set the microphone down on the table. You knew this
was coming, but now that you’re here, you’re not sure where to start. Resigned
to your fate, you heave a sigh as your shoulders slump. It becomes hard to look
at any of them, so you don’t.
 
“It wasn’t your imagination,” you begin, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s part of
my Quirk. Whenever I do certain things, it puts people into a trance of sorts.”
You can feel yourself start to shake and you force yourself to stop. You’ve
already gone this far — might as well continue. “That’s why my Quirk is called
‘siren.’ My mother passed it down to me.”
 
You risk looking up and are surprised to see admiration on Ami’s face, not fear
or uncertainty. She grins and hurries forward, clasping your hands tightly.
“Wow! That’s so amazing!” she says brightly. “I didn’t know you could do
something like that!”
 
“So you can make people do whatever you want?” muses Risa thoughtfully. “I’m
confused.”
 
“That’s a really powerful Quirk, and rare too,” comments Michiru, who’s
fighting down a smile as Ami starts hopping excitedly in place. “We’ll just
have to be more careful around you, that’s all.”
 
The longer they marvel at your ability, the less tense you become until you
finally return their smiles with a shaky one of your own. All this time, you
were expecting them to turn tail and run, but they haven’t done anything of the
sort. Overwhelming relief floods through you, and it’s incredibly cathartic the
way they not only accept you but embrace your Quirk. More drinks are ordered,
and though they don’t pressure you to sing again, the way they smile at you
speaks volumes. Some part of you wonders if your destroyed friendship with Miki
paved the way for friends who are infinitely more understanding, and while
thinking of her still brings pangs of regret, it’s hard to feel sad at the
moment when you’re so overjoyed. Maybe she was the price you had to pay in
exchange for this slice of happiness…
 
The rest of the year goes by without too much of a hitch, and even though you
sometimes pass by Miki and your old group, you’re always in the company of your
new friends, too busy chatting animatedly to notice the pained look that
crosses her face whenever she glances at you. Stares and whispers still follow
you, but they somehow diminish around Ami, Risa, and Michiru. There’s something
about the way they hold themselves, that self-assured confidence in the way
they navigate through life that lends itself to a different sort of vibe
compared to the one you had known before. Had you not been included in their
circle, you might’ve found them slightly intimidating. As it stands, however,
it feels nice to be included, and you particularly enjoy your lunches spent on
the rook thanks to Risa’s Platform Quirk, which explains how they’ve been
getting up there in the first place.
 
You don’t know when the change happens, but at some point, it gets to where you
can’t open your shoe locker in the morning without finding a least a dozen
letters crammed inside. Ami finds them laughably cute and teases you
mercilessly, but Risa regards the letters with cold dismissal and throws out
the entire lot before you even have a change to go through them.
 
“People who can’t even confess to you face to face are losers,” she says with a
curled lip. “You can do way better.”
 
When summer rolls around, you impulsively invite them to spend some of their
vacation at the island, and your friends are more than delighted to come.
Seeing their ecstatic faces at the sight of your paradise’s soft white sand,
private beach villa, and luxurious cabanas dotted throughout is almost comical
with the amount of enthusiasm they bring , and though you feel a faint pang of
nostalgia for your time here as a child, you find yourself enjoying their
company more than before. It feels nice to relax without the pressure of school
looming your head, and as your friends dance around a bonfire while fireworks
light up the night sky, you quietly think to yourself that this is the happiest
you’ve ever been.
 
The sun is now almost entirely gone and you’re sure you won’t run into anyone
if you leave now, so you stand up, grab your bag, and sling it over your
shoulder. ‘I’m getting sentimental,’ you think, but it’s somehow fitting,
spending your last day of middle school alone with your thoughts. Your
heartbeat seems to rattle inside your chest as you head downstairs to change
out of your school shoes. You’re most definitely late for your lessons, but you
can’t bring yourself to care. It’s hard to care about a lot of things these
days.
 
When you arrive home, there’s a faint smell of perfume hanging around in the
entryway, which means your mother is most likely home. You feel a very faint
twinge of annoyance, but it soon fades and leaves a hollow indifference in its
wake. You don’t remember how long it’s been since you’ve last seen her, but she
would’ve sent a text if she wanted to spend time with you, something she never
does nowadays, and when you glance down at your phone, you’re not surprised to
see a distinct lack of messages.
 
You heave a sigh and take the long way to your room in order to clear your
head. You’ve almost succeeded when loud raucous laughter pulls you up short.
It’s coming from a door off to the side, carelessly left ajar. Now you’re even
more surprised how you managed to hear anything as heavy, thrumming dance music
filters through.
 
Shaking your head dismissively, you pass the door without bothering to look
through and continue on your way, but you’ve only taken a couple of steps when
you hear someone stumble out, and there’s something in that airy giggle that
sends your anger through the roof. You slowly turn around and take in your
mother’s drunken appearance.
 
She’s wearing some skimpy little strapless dress that she’s having some
difficulty with, constantly pulling it back up over her rather large bosom, and
she’s talking about getting more drinks, her voice slurred and almost
incomprehensible. Your mother obviously hasn’t noticed you yet, but maybe she’s
so far gone that someone as inconsequential as you simply falls by the wayside
in pursuit of far more insidious delights. And speaking of…
 
“Babe, the guys found some more sake back there. You comin’ back or what?” says
a man who looks like he’s in his mid-twenties, shirt disheveled and smudged
lipstick stains near his collar. He isn’t terribly drunk, but he’s certainly
getting there.
 
“Oh, good! That’s good,” says your mother, drawing out the last word in what’s
clearly supposed to be a seductive purr, but she hiccups at the last minute and
dissolves into a fit of fresh giggling.
 
The last time you saw her, her hair had been long and pulled into a high
ponytail, but now it’s cut stylishly short, and even though she’s obviously
hammered, you can’t help but grudgingly admit that she still looks better than
most models posing for a photograph. Her friend seems to think so too because
he can’t seem to keep his eyes off her.
 
“Darling!” she squeals all of a sudden, finally spotting you in the shadows.
She moves forward to embrace you, but as you gets closer, you notice her
smeared lipstick and several blooms of color peppering her neck and bare
shoulders. You immediately back away in disgust. She pouts a little but
otherwise doesn’t seem fazed, which only infuriates you even more. You hate
that you want her to care.
 
“Hey, babe, this your kid?” slurs her companion, throwing an arm around her
shoulders. As she leans into him with another drunken laugh, he gives you a
slow once over and you resist the urge to shudder. Fucking creep. They both
reek of alcohol and your stomach turns from the fumes.
 
“You said something about more sake?” she asks breathlessly, completely
forgetting you and playing with his exposed collarbone. “You naughty boy,
you’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?” She pushes him towards the door.
“The others will think we ditched them. Let’s keep this going, okay?”
 
“Sure thing,” he says, his eyes still on you. He gives you a wink your mother
doesn’t seem to notice and you retaliate by flipping him off and storming away
without bothering to see his reaction. Asshole.
 
You finally make it to your room, feeling somewhat queasy and resolving to
never take the long way again. Your trainer is probably going to let you have
it tomorrow, but you’ve got more pressing matters to worry about. Sleep comes
slowly and your dreams aren’t pleasant, reliving the day your treasured
memories turned sour.
 
It’s lunchtime, and the air buzzes with excitement. Tomorrow is the start of
summer break and all around you are people making plans, though a few not so
diligent students gripe about having to take summer classes. You head for the
vending machines to get some drinks for the girls with a faint smile on your
lips. It’s almost funny how a passing student openly gawks at you before
colliding into someone else, but this happens far too often to have much of an
effect anymore.
 
Besides, you’re far too excited to care. Tomorrow, you start packing for your
island vacation with your friends and spend your break having the time of your
lives.
 
As you make your way to the back of the school, plastic bag full of drinks on
hand, you hear an unfamiliar voice call your name from behind you. You pause
and turn around to face a fellow student that you don’t recognize. She looks
nervous and you scan the area for any others, but there’s no one.
 
“Yes?” you say, already wanting to get back to your group. What could this girl
possibly want with you on the last day of school?
 
“I’m glad I caught you,” she answers breathlessly. Upon closer inspection, you
notice her cheeks are flushed and one of the buns atop her head is starting to
come undone. You frown in confusion. Did she run here? “You’re almost never
alone that’s it’s so hard to—” She cuts herself off mid-sentence and turns
bright red, then pats her cheeks.
 
She’s definitely acting a little weird. “I’m sorry, what?”
 
The girl lets out a high-pitched squeak and actually flails her hands a bit,
shaking her head. “No, that’s not what I wanted to say! Um...I...” She starts
stammering, twiddling her thumbs and somehow turning redder than before. As she
goes into a deep bow, it suddenly clicks and you know exactly what she’s going
to say an instant before she says it. “I really like you, senpai! Please go out
with me!” she squeals.
 
The first thing that registers is annoyance, and while you’re glad no one’s
around to witness this girl make a public spectacle of herself, you still feel
irritated by how dense she is.‘At least wait until school’s over, you idiot,’
you think harshly. You’re not sure why she picked now to confess, unless she
feels confident you’re going to accept.
 
But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would you?
 
“I know...that you’re really popular, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you
going out with anyone else. I thought long and hard about how I want to live
out the rest of my time here.” She grows more confident as she speaks, and had
this not involved you, you might’ve admired her nerve. “I know I’m not ideal,
but...I’ll do my best to make you happy, even more than all the others! That’s
why I want to stay by your side, for as long as you’ll have me.”
 
Your expression remains impassive but you cringe on the inside. How can she say
something so nauseatingly honest with a straight face? She’s not the first
person to confess to you — it’s happened a couple of times over the past year,
but you really don’t want to deal with this right now.
 
“I’m not really interested in dating right now,” you respond curtly, watching
her expression fall. “I’m currently just focusing on my studies.” You turn your
back on her, but you haven’t taken more than a few steps when you feel a slight
tug on the back of your sleeve.
 
“Please don’t go,” she says very quietly, and even without turning around, you
can tell she’s starting to cry. “You don’t have to be my girlfriend. We can
just...I don’t know...”
 
You turn to stare at her with wide eyes, stunned at the implications.
“...What?”
 
She uses her free hand to wipe away her tears but she’s not looking at you
anymore. “Is it...because I’m a girl?” she says with a sniffle and steps closer
to you.
 
You freeze and turn away quickly. You’re not entirely sure how to handle this,
and more than anything, you wish your friends were here. They’d know what to do
in a sticky situation like this. Your heart hammers in your chest and you stare
longingly at the ground, wishing it would open up and swallow you whole.
“Um...that’s not why...” you say uncertainly, but you’re not sure how to
continue.
 
“Am I...no good?” she whispers, and she’s so close now that you actually jump a
little. “Please tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
 
You finally come to your senses and jerk away, feeling incredibly uneasy.
“Please, just...leave me alone,” you say quietly. You walk away and even with
your heartbeat thrumming in your ears, you still hear her sniffling.
 
Finally, you arrive at your destination near a secluded area at the back of the
school, still feeling a little unsettled. You look around to make sure there
aren’t any teachers around before your feet leave the ground and you ascend
slowly. You’re still gathering your thoughts when you hear Ami shriek with
laughter. There’s something derisive about it and you stop near the roof, still
out of sight. What’s going on?
 
“I don’t give a shit if she’s used it on a hundred people,” she says
dismissively. “Who cares about a bunch of nobodies? It’s all the same to me,
anyway.”
 
“The rumors are starting to get out of hand, though.” That’s Michiru, and
you’ve never heard her sound so dispassionate before. “If any of them are true,
she could damage our reputation and then where would we be? We can’t keep
defending her forever.”
 
“Now that I think about it, she does get confessed to a lot,” muses Risa “But
if she’s using her Quirk, why would she turn them down?”
 
“Shesaysshe turns them down,” snorts Ami. “Maybe she likes to have fun with
them. Bet you that’s how she spends her ‘lessons’ after school.”
 
You press your back against the wall, heart beating very quickly. They can’t be
talking about you. They’re your friends. This could all just be one big
misunderstanding. Maybe they’re just talking about some other girl. It wouldn’t
be the first time they did it. Your hands tremble so much that you almost drop
what you’re carrying.
 
“Wow, really? Is that what people have been saying about her?” says Risa. “Holy
shit, it’s even worse than I thought.”
 
“It’s pretty serious,” remarks Michiru. “Apparently, she likes to get around.”
 
“Not just with students either,” interjects Ami. “Those good grades? Yeah, she
uses her Quirk on theteachers, even! Then she’ll do some ‘extra credit’ to seal
the deal, if you catch my drift...”
 
“Seriously?!”
 
“Whoa...”
 
“Yep! But c’mon...it’s not like I’m gonna ditch her just because she sleeps
around. She’s filthy rich and her mother isAstra! I almost died when we met her
last year, do you remember?”
 
“Yeah, there is that, huh?” There’s Risa again. “I’m just hoping to get a good
word in with her agency. Anybody can be a star nowadays, but I’m pretty good,
much better than the talentless hacks on TV. It can’t be that hard.”
 
“Wow, you’re really gunning for fame and fortune, huh?” says Michiru.
 
“Of course! But before all that, we’ve still got our island getaway tomorrow,
don’t we?” There’s a loud chorus of appreciative laughter, but you’ve heard
enough. Breathing hard through your nose, you can feel yourself shaking and as
a warm breeze starts to blow, you belatedly realize how wet your cheeks are.
Anger pulses through your veins, but the bitter sting of betrayal keeps you
rooted to the spot.
 
These people were never your friends. They used you. Theyliedto you. Everything
up until now had been a farce. What did it matter that you had come to care for
them? The only thing that was worth anything to them was getting what they
wanted, and once you had outlived your usefulness, then what? You would’ve been
discarded and neglected as if the past year and a half meant nothing, as
ifyouhad meant nothing. Maybe it was better that you found out sooner rather
than later.
 
But it still hurts so much. You had opened yourself up again, learned to trust
again, and look how it turned out. You called them your friends, had let them
in...it was Miki all over again.
 
‘How stupid can I be?’you think, sick of the taste of duplicity in your life.
You glance down at the bag you’ve somehow managed to hang ontothis whole time
and throw it away from you as hard as you can, watching as it splatters its
contents all over the ground below. The noise seems to alert the group because
they suddenly stop laughing, but when they come to investigate, you’re long
gone.
 
You ignore the influx of texts later on in the day as you lie on your bed, and
when it becomes too annoying, you take a sort of savage pleasure in blocking
each of your contacts so that there’s no one left to talk to. Photos that once
made you happy are purged from your phone. Even your social media accounts
aren’t safe, and even though you hardly ever used them, you still delete them
anyway in case anyone tries getting a hold of you there.
 
That’s how you spend your afternoon, obliterating every trace of them from your
life, so all you’re left with is a large gaping hole where they used to be. You
take solace in that void; it’s blessedly empty and though some part of you
wonders if this is healthy, you shut it out by retreating farther into its
embrace, letting it consume you entirely. All that’s left is a detached sort of
apathy, and something about it is almost a relief. You simply don’t give a damn
anymore. Forget ever having friends. What good have they ever done? You don’t
need them.
 
You don’t needanyone.
 
You spend your summer at home training extensively. Your dance moves become
fiery, even aggressive, and your voice becomes stronger than ever, and even
though your trainers are a little alarmed at the change, they praise your new
drive and accommodate, finding songs that are faster, stronger, and more
passionate. They even come up with a couple of original songs tailor-made just
for you, which suits you just fine. At this point, you’d do just about anything
to strengthen your Quirk.
 
Because now you know what you want to do, the only thing left that matters that
doesn’t involve friendship or loyalty. Forget all of that. You want to live
your life your way, everyone else be damned. As you do some stretches after a
particularly intense training session, it occurs to you that the tiny part of
you that hasn’t died is still hanging on, still trying to give your life
meaning. You’re tired of living this shallow, superficial existence. What
better way to do that than to be a hero?
 
Of course, that’s much easier said than done. For one thing, the acceptance
rate for the world’s most prestigious hero program is depressingly low, but
while the old you would’ve been discouraged by the odds, you’re not the type to
settle for a second-rate school. Maybe you had been before, back when you were
content to follow Miki into a public middle school instead of a private
academy, but that person is long gone.
 
So when you enter your third and final year of middle school, you already have
your sights firmly set on U.A. and everything else seems to fall by the
wayside. People around you no longer bother to keep their voices down as you
pass by. “Slut,” they say. “How many people is she going to fuck this time?”
They don’t hide their sneers, but they never confront you directly and always
become unpleasant little shits whenever they’re in groups. Always safety in
numbers. “Careful, she’ll use her Quirk and you’ll become part of her
collection...”
 
Even the teachers, who are normally oblivious to student gossip, become cold
and distant, acting far less lenient with you, and something inside you
ridicules their weakness, their desire to save face and prove that they alone
are immune to your imagined wiles. So you work even harder, not wanting to give
them any excuse to give you bad grades. You submit your application to U.A.,
and despite your homeroom teacher’s best efforts to discourage you, you remain
resolute. It’s the only high school you apply to, which is a gusty move, but
you don’t care.
 
Despite all of the negativity surrounding you throughout the year, confessions
are still a commonplace thing. They’re usually done by horny idiots, people who
think they canchangeyou, or by hopeless romantics who don’t know any better.
You survey them coldly and can only muster the barest flicker of contempt,
which is more than they deserve.
 
Then you brutally reject each and every one who has the audacity to think they
alone understand the real you, that only they have any hope of breaking down
your walls.
 
So when they inevitably become furious and accuse you of using your Quirk on
them in an attempt to justify their shallow attraction, you laugh. It’s a
humorless, empty sort of laugh, and it’s just callous enough to stop them in
the middle of their tirade.
 
“Sure, go ahead and think I’d ever bother using my Quirk on someone like you,”
you say coldly. “In fact, tell everyone we fucked like rabbits and that I
dumped you like a sack of rocks after we were done. It’s what you want, isn’t
it? Poor, miserable you. This way you get to be the victim and not lose face in
front of your friends.” It’s easy to ignore their stricken looks as you turn
your back on them. “Then you get to call me a slut behind my back and everyone
will believe you because I’m apparently willing to fuck every sap that
confesses to me.” You let out a derisive snort and shake your head before
walking away. “I’ve heard this song and dance before. You’re not the first
dipshit to pull this stupid stunt and you won’t be the last.”
 
When your alarm wakes you early on the morning of the U.A. entrance exam, your
face is set as you pull off your covers and get ready for the day. In next to
no time at all, you sit in the back seat of your car, face impassive as you’re
driven to the school. Soon, you pull up in front of U.A.’s large school gates,
where students are already heading inside, though a few gawk at your vehicle,
some even nudging their friends and pointing, though they can’t see you through
the tinted windows.
 
You take a deep breath and exhale slowly, keeping a firm reign on your nerves.
Your back straightens as your driver hurries over and opens the car door for
you. You slowly rise form your seat and head out, thinking that you’re finally
taking the first, definite steps towards your future.
 
 
End Notes
     Teenagers are so dramatic, aren't they? I actually have this entire
     fic planned out, so it'll be around 20 chapters (give or take).
     Reader-chan isn't done angsting yet because making you suffer is my
     bread and butter.
     Chapter titles are actually from JubyPhonic's English cover of "Here"
     since it seemed to fit and I've been listening to it nonstop for the
     past couple of weeks.
     BnHA has me by the BALLS right now, and I can't wait for season
     three~
     *Don't forget to leave kudos and/or your thoughts. I'd love to hear
     any feedback~
     Come scream with me about BnHA on my Tumblr or on Twitter.
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