DISCLAIMER : I do not own My Hero Academia
Have you ever felt invisible, like nobody knows you're there? Have you ever wished that somebody would look your way, smile at you, or ask you how your day was, but no matter how hard you try, nobody really cares?
Well, I did.
Perhaps the story begins in middle school, where a young girl found herself the laughing stock of an entire classroom, or it might have started when she was born a quirkless, useless piece of shit. You might be thinking I'm just a weakling; a swine that doesn't know her place. You might see me as a traitor too. I don't really give a fuck. This is my story. You listen, and I'll speak. You can blame me for being weak and sensitive, or you can pay attention and I'll tell you how a quirkless brat snuck her way into class 1A.
Still paying attention? Good.
2 Years Ago
It was the first day of summer break; kids ran along the narrow streets, chasing each other with water guns. The cicadas chirped as the sun prepared to set. A golden hue lit across the road, and I couldn't help but smile as I watched the children's shadows dance along the footpath. They were so lively and bursting with energy. I felt the same. Summer was the respite I needed. It was a break from homework, tests, anxiety, and those boys.
I shook my head.
It was summer, I didn't have to worry about them.
I spotted my rustic, old house. It was only a mile away from my school, which meant I was one of the lucky few 7th graders that didn't need to take a train or bus. The door's paint was falling off, and the mailbox had pounds duct tape holding it together. Its windows were wide open, as always. My mom said there was no need for A.C, because 'nature provides,' or whatever that means.
We weren't exactly poor, but we definitely weren't middle class. Quirkless families normally make a pittance. Most people use their quirks to benefit their salaries, but my family doesn't have that luxury. My mom cleans houses and my dad works a minimum-wage job at a chain-restaurant. I don't see them often. By the time they get passed their extra shifts, they go straight to bed.
My mom used to work as a model. Her sharp blue eyes and silky gold hair captured the hearts of every photographer- so much so that the phone used to ring several times a day with a gig. Her stunning looks made enough money for annual vacations to the Caribbean, a house that isn't falling apart, and reasonable work hours. When I'd come home after school my mom and dad would greet me at the door wearing bright colored aprons and bubbly smiles. The smell of food would waft through the house and we would eat dinner as a family.
I squint as I duck through the doorway. As always, the lights are off and the house is pitch black.
A sigh escapes my lips.
I throw my bag onto the kitchen floor, turn on the stove, oil up the pan, and look into the fridge. Great. There's no fucking eggs. I poke my head to the trash bin and sticking out is the empty carton. My stomach mocked me with a growl. If only I had a quirk that could make dinner for me.
My hand rummaged through the couch desperate for any spare change. A carton of eggs costs about $1.50, but I can barely find 30 cents. With the lose change in my hand I decide to head out to the supermarket. People drop coins all the time- I bet I'll find enough along the way. It's dark now, so I grab onto our old flashlight.
The flashlight's orange hue barely lit the path. My eyes are glued to the ground, scanning the road for any sign of cash. I now have a dollar in my hand, which is enough to buy an onigiri if worst comes to worst.
Strolling through the streets after dark is never pleasant. If my parents knew that I did this from time to time, they'd probably be furious.
Of course, I'm not really sure how they'd react. I don't think I've spoken to them in almost two weeks. The thought is depressing, and I struggle to push it to the back of my mind. I just have to focus on the path. I need to make a right turn around the corner and then-
"Psst."
I freeze. I spin around, but all I can see is the flickering streetlight and the barren road.
"Hello?"
My voice echoes through the streets, with no reply. I roll my eyes. I don't have time for any trivial games, and I know that it's just some stupid teenager having fun with their quirk.
I whip my head around and continue walking.
The supermarket is in view. The store's bright lights pull me in, and before I know it I'm standing in front of a batch of apples with my mouth watering. My hands reach for a granny smith, a batch of strawberries, and a bunch of bananas. With one hand full I open the other one to grab onto a container of blueberries.
Clink.
My dollar comprised of pennies, dimes, and nickels spin around on the cold tiled floor. I look at the fruit piled up in my hands and sigh. Why do I torture myself by going into the fruit section; I'm well aware that I only have enough for a snack. I kneel down to pick up the change. I count the coins in my hand. There's 99 cents. Shit. I get on my hands and knees and peer under the baskets of fruit.
You'd think it would be easy to find just one coin on the ground with all the bright lights shining overhead, but for some reason the floor is dark. My hand slides across the floor, desperate to grab onto that missing cent. I whip around to scan the area, but I'm greeted by a pair of sports shoes that look fresh from the box.
"Looking for something?" The sneakers ask menacingly.
My hand stops in its place. A thousand thoughts rush into my head- Who is that? What does this guy want? Does he know I'm quirkless? Maybe if I trip the him, I can make a dash for the exit. But what about dinner? Well, I guess I'd rather face the growls of my stomach then that of a buff teenager. Why can't I just have a quirk to beat them up…
I hear snickers from behind, and I notice two other fancy shoes to the left and right.
Oh great, there's more. So much for the tripping plan.
"G-go away," I squeak, keeping my eyes glued to the ground. My hands ball up into fists and sweat drips down my face. I bite my lip and stay still.
Their shadows start to swarm around me like tigers ready to pounce on their prey.
"No need to be scared," the shoes assert, "I just noticed you had some change and I was wondering if you could lend us some."
Like hell these guys needed change. A quick look at their shoes and you could tell they were practically swimming in money. I couldn't argue though; the quirkless don't have that luxury.
With a quivering hand, I reach up and lump my change into his palm.
"Thanks for your generosity."
The shoes leave the floor, and the cackling coming from the boys echo down the aisle and into the next. I just sit their, shaking, thankful that nothing terrible happened.
Carts roll down the fruit area with groceries piled up. People who just finished work stroll down, checking off items on their shopping list. Even this late at night, there's so many people around me completing their daily chores. I look up to see a woman swerve around me with her cart. There's a store clerk assessing whether the apples are fresh. I just sit in the center of the aisle, motionless. If only I had a quirk to avoid this situation… if only I had a quirk to attract somebody's attention.
Sometimes I feel so invisible.
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A/N : Hey guys I hope you enjoyed. I'm not the best writer but I thought this would be fun. Let me know if you have any tips of course! :) (BTW : cursing will remain consistent throughout the series because I feel like it represents Toru's anger.)