Akira, fifteen, high school student, vigilante on probation, was buried under boxes of her clothes, gaming equipment and Funko Pop collection. It was a fitting start for a new year in high school- asphyxiated and regretting it.
Her Pro-Hero uncle was outside, helping with the moving van. She didn't have much things. The van was barely half full by the time she was done packing. Understandable, she left home with a single hiking bag on her back, and took the train straight from Akita to Tokyo. All that she had in the van, she had to build once more. She would have to do it again here.
With a wave of her hand, golden glowing tendrils came out and floated toward the boxes. They hovered away from her and gently landed on the dinner table with a soft thud.
A few more boxes. She sighed.
"Akira, I've got the last box." Her uncle called out from downstairs. After that, she heard the faint noises of a vehicle leaving.
She had started unpacking her clothes first. Her room was spacious but her own things were sparse, even with the addition of her study desk, dresser, nightstand, plus the bed and shelf that was already there. She didn't see anything bad about it. She never needed a lot of things, but she needed to use the huge space. It felt incomplete, and just staring right at her. She should ask her uncle if it was okay.
"Wow. You really need more stuff…" Speak of the devil. He entered the room and nearly tripped on a mat.
"Was Ken even paying you well working in that coffee shop?" The tall burly man asked as he passed her another box.
"He paid me well. Very well. Even gave me a raise after a year. Helped me build this beast of a computer," she bragged and kissed the LCD monitor of her PC.
"Yeah? Then why'd you have so little stuff then?" He quipped.
"Why'd you buy a big ass house? You're the only one here," she retorted, while unravelling the cables from her computer.
Her uncle shook his head, smirking. Uncle Vlad was a spirited man with a strong personality. His quirk made him intimidating. Hell, anything with blood made anyone intimidating, especially if you could control it, and that was exactly his Quirk. Vlad King, they called him.
"Aizawa will be here for dinner. He has a few things to tell you," he said.
"Umm-okay? What's up this time?"
"I don't know, kiddo. Probably just some last minute reminders."
"Hmm."
He went downstairs to prepare dinner, leaving Akira alone. She turned on her bluetooth speaker, paired it with her phone and played some tunes. Camille Saint-Saëns' Danse Macabre played as she unpacked. It was fitting. Death was coming to visit after all. Or someone who looked like Death due to the lack of sleep. Poor man.
Also, it was a fine piece of music, so why not? It had that crescendo that slowly simmered, and when it rose in tempo and loudness, it was perfect. Satisfying. It was genius. She admired the musicians and composers a long time ago. No matter how far music has come, she always came back to them.
After unloading the boxes and folding them to be kept away, she sorted her clothes out by purpose-between the stuff she could wear everyday, for certain occasions and of course, the seasonal ones, and lastly, by color. She had to. Her wardrobe would look like the embodiment of chaos if she didn't follow any sort of system.
"Aki! Do you want to go grocery shopping with me? I ran out of a few things." He announced.
"Yeah, sure. Let me make a list," she said. She took a piece of paper from one of her many notebooks.
Cereal. No, no. I'm a grown ass lady.
Cereal Koko Krunch.
Kotex (no wings) God, those things...
Shampoo (the vanilla & rose lavender one)
Conditioner
Lip Balm. She ran out a few days ago and her lips get chapped faster than quick drying cement.
Uncle Vlad also had weak ass coffee. It was the most disgusting shameful specimen Akira had ever tasted. It should sue itself for the false advertising that is the "caffeinated" stuck its name. She refused to call it coffee. It was closer to watered-down pee from a lightweight with a kidney infection. She added it to the list.
Coffee (as strong as All Might's Delaware smash)
Milk
That's about it. She would just pick the rest up when they got there. On cue, her uncle called and asked if she was ready to leave. She was still wearing her t-shirt, jeans and sneaker combo. Akira put on a hoodie before she went out of her room. It was spring but there was a chill in the air. She'd rather not catch a cold. Tomorrow's attendance was important.
"I'm coming down there. Wait up!" She exclaimed as she ran down the stairs.
It was a ten minute walk to the closest supermarket. When they walked in, the chilly conditioned air sunk right into Akira's bones. She was grateful for her preparedness.
She helped her uncle with the shopping, advised him and had to pull a few items away from him, switching them with cheaper, more efficient alternatives. He grumbled every time she corrected him, but didn't argue.
"Don't get that store-bought chicken stock. Those are expensive! Why would you spend more than two-thousand yen when you can make that at home with spare change? How the hell are you survivin'?" She complained. Her uncle scratched the back of his neck.
Well, something's never changed.
"I can make you really good stock. Just you wait. Did that bread just say "potassium bromate"? Are you fucking serious? Throw them back. I could make you brownies instead. Your kitchen needs a regime change, Uncle Vlad." She all but seethed.
When they got most of the items, her uncle paused to check his list, and found he forgot to get some soy sauce. He told her to wait as he ran towards his target. Coincidentally, they were near the cereal aisle. It was the last thing on her list.
She pushed the heavy cart and stood there looking poignantly at the top shelf. The boxes were stacked. If she pulled out wrong, it would rain hell on her. She could wait for her uncle and ask him kindly for assistance. She'd rather not. So, she chose the old fashioned way, tiptoeing.
Alas, so close yet so far, her fingertips brushed and grabbed, but the stacks above looked grimly down at her. One move was all it would take. The boxes said "great taste", but all Akira could hear was "I double dare you, motherfucker". She gave it a last attempt, reached and slowly pulled a box when a scarred hand covered hers.
"I'll get it for ya," a young man's deep voice drawled. She looked at her helper, and was about to thank him, but his appearance made her pause.
He was ruggedly dressed and his hair was spiky and unruly. He was as scarred as the hand that helped her. He was young, about less than a decade older than her. Most of all, the young man had metallic piercings or prosthesis attached on his skin: at the sides of his mouth and below his eyes. Akira nearly winced at the painful procedure that would've been needed to put all those there. She couldn't stop thinking about the whys and the hows. The pain.
"It's rude to stare, you know." He said to her. There was no anger though, but amusement.
"Sorry, I-I-uhh-I didn't mean to." She told him. He held out the box of cereals for her.
"It's ugly. I know." He drawled, looking away from her. It looked crude yet systematically placed. She wondered if it was a recent operation. She doubted it though, not with how those scars looked. She could only imagine how people saw him. A deviant. A monster. She knew it all too well.
"I didn't think that… I just thought... that looked like it hurt." She took the box from his hand.
"Thanks for helping me." She smiled shyly at him and for a few seconds, they merely stared at each other, one out of shock, the other, out of cluelessness on what to do next. Akira broke the spell.
"Umm, anyway, I gotta go. See ya." She walked out the aisle, not hearing the stranger's reply.
"Yeah, sure." He replied.
She found her uncle meandering around, probably looking for her. When she found him, he looked a little worried.
"Where were you?" He asked, a bit breathless.
"I got a box of cereal. What took you so long?"
Her uncle ruffled her hair as they went to the cashier. When they paid for their items, Akira couldn't help but ask her uncle a question.
"Hey, uncle Vlad… Have you ever stapled yourself before?"
"What the hell kind of question is that? That sounds painful."
"Exactly! Why would anyone want to staple themselves?" She frowned.
"I would like to sanitize whatever box you pulled those thoughts from." Her uncle said as they walked out of the supermarket.
"Big mood."
The doorbell rang, and on the porch, stood Aizawa Shouta and his friend, Yamada Hizashi. The latter whistling as they waited. Well, Akira could hear the cockatoo man anyway. She opened the door.
"Good evening." She greeted them both. The lazy man only grunted a reply.
"HEY! WHAT'S UP?!" Hizashi-san roared, making the man beside him flinch.
Akira only blinked at him. "Come in both of you."
"I told you he'd bring his friend," she said to Vlad who was setting the table.
"Is your Quirk really Psionic energy? Can you tell the future, too?" Her uncle jokingly asked.
"No, he's just predictable." Akira replied.
The dinner with these strangers went well. Yamada-san seemed to be a curious and energetic man, always asking her questions, and always screaming it excitedly at her. She was sure the man knew about her circumstances, why she was currently living with her uncle. Was he trying to be nice?
"Akira-chan, how are you in class?" the DJ asked.
"I'm fine. I have high grades." She replied, then put a forkful of pasta into her mouth.
"Aren't you part of the student council back in Akita? What'd you do there?" The raven-haired man in front of her.
How'd the fuck did he- Peaking into my school records, huh?
"Oh really?! Girl! You must be famous!" the blond man said. Aizawa-san winced. Regrets, regrets.
"I wouldn't say that. I have colleagues, lots of 'em. I had to work with a lot of people."
The conversation slowed down after that. When the table was cleared, the real purpose of Erasherhead's visit arose. Her uncle had volunteered to do the dishes and Yamada-san was currently annoying him in the kitchen, leaving her to Aizawa. Akira felt uneasy. She fidgeted with her fingers and it took all her strength not to chew on her nails again.
"First things first, the court's ruling, your probationary status, had conditions. Conditions with a lot of 'musts' in them. This is serious. Breaking them would mean jail time and with your Quirk, I could only guess Maximum Security. Trust me, you don't want that. Especially not at your age. I think you're smart enough to understand your situation, Yamaguchi. I'm going to read this to you again." Aizawa said.
She nodded, and looked at the smartwatch on her wrist.
"One of the court's conditions is that smartwatch. It works like any smartwatch. Can tell time. Your heart rate. Notify you of messages. This one though has a GPS tracker on it and it pings directly to the police. We have installed transmitters in your house, and in campus. You take this off outside of your home and outside of your school, the police and any nearby hero will apprehend you. This renders your probation non-existent." Game over for me.
"We will not take away your freedom, but we will know wherever you are and at what time." He added.
"Another condition given by the court. Your attendance in U.A High is a must. Your behavior, your performance there will be assessed. It means you get in trouble in school or don't join classes...renders your probation non-existent." Game over for me.
"Lastly, the most important part of your condition. If you are proven to be using one's Quirk without supervision, and being involved in extrajudicial activities, vigilantism for example," Aizawa added and looked at her, but her gaze had fallen on the table between them, "if you are deemed out of control and too dangerous by U.A and the court, this renders your probation status…"
Non-existent. Null and void. Game over.
For a few moments, as he spoke to her. She felt like she was in the courthouse again. It wasn't what she expected. She expected animosity. Vigilante, in this world full of heroes, was synonymous to criminal. Akira stood there, and for a while, she felt what Dante felt in the presence of the kings that judged the dead in the underworld.
There was fear. Her fate being in someone else's hands made her sick. There was anger. If they had done their jobs well, she wouldn't have broken the law.
"You were quiet the whole time the court made their decision on you. I expect you have a lot to say. You better say it now. Don't lie 'cause I'll know anyway." Aizawa spoke.
"Look, my methods were wrong. I agree on that. I understand that a hundred percent. Doesn't mean I feel bad about it." Their eyes met.
"Whatever good it is you think you're doing, you're not above the law," Aizawa contended, his eyes boring into her.
"Yeah, well crime syndicates and villains must have missed the memo," Akira quipped and gave him a wry smile.
"Look, I'm agreeing to go to U.A already. I'm going to see what all the fuss is about with this hero school. What I did is not gonna matter in the long run. This conversation is not going to matter in the long run." Akira stood up this time.
"I did nothing wrong. I stand by that. My only regret is poor planning." Akira said.
"Did nothing wrong? Attacking a civilian? Nearly jeopardizing an arrest? Putting yourself in harm's way? Putting other people in harm's way? Those are all the things you did wrong." Aizawa argued.
"That civilian was the head of a crime syndicate that specializes in kidnapping individuals, those with and without Quirks, and selling them to the Black Market. He was an animal, and lucky to be alive. I do admit, I did have a momentary lapse in restraint. That's was that."
"You broke his jaw, shattered his cheekbones and nearly half his ribs."
"I didn't know. I wasn't keeping check. I'm not… prone to such outbursts. He just pissed me off!" Akira admitted, crossing her arms on her chest.
Being up close to that man, the root of her problems this past week, his stench, the sound of his voice. The way he described the people he captured as "items", "merchandise" and "products". It sickened her so. She made him bleed just to make sure he was human, but even then, the sight of his blood on her hands and on the wall behind him, didn't persuade her. To think he had been able to walk away unscathed from his past dealings with the authorities.
"You're not a bad person, Yamaguchi. I can tell… But if you keep this up..." Aizawa shook his head. He could tell something was amiss. There was more to this, her anger towards that crime lord. There was footage to prove it.
"Well, let's see it this way. If your authorities, your heroes," she scoffed, "were as competent, determined and good at what they do as they portray themselves, we wouldn't be doing this. If you haven't failed so spectacularly, the universe," she chuckled darkly this time, "wouldn't have brought me here to deal with this. Hence, this is your fault, well, rather the fault of everyone with Hero sticking out of their names like the Mc in Mcdonalds."
"You hate us." Aizawa finally spoke out. Akira sighed dejectedly.
"No, I don't. Hate entails the need to destroy the object of your resentment. I didn't beat up a hero. I beat up a criminal. What I am, Aizawa-san, is..." She couldn't say the words, but she knew what it was.
Disappointed. Disillusioned.
She paused, and poured herself a glass of water. She took a drink, feeling the cool liquid down her throat. She wasn't the type to be so angry, but this man, this hero, was poking on places she really didn't like. There was a storm within her, and she needed to calm it down.
It wasn't her. It wasn't her at all. Akira took a deep breath and spoke again.
"I understand the conditions of my probationary status. Now, that I am enrolling in this-this school of yours, I'd rather focus on the next step after today."
He nodded in understanding. This time Aizawa saw her pick at her hands once more. Her standoffish demeanor seemed to have washed away.
"I'm sorry. I was angry… You've helped me out. I shouldn't have been rude," she regretfully said.
"I did tell you to be honest. There's no need to be sorry. It's good that we got that out. Know this, we won't fail you in U.A. I know you don't trust us as well. I am a stranger to you, but you can trust your uncle. I know he wants the best for you." The tall man assured her.
He held out his hand to her, a sign of peace. Aizawa knew he didn't have to do it, but she looked like she had been fighting all her life. Maybe this time, she didn't have to.
Akira reluctantly shook it.
"I'll see you in class tomorrow," he said. Akira's eyes widened.
"What do you mean? I knew you were gonna be watching me in U.A, you didn't say anything about you working there," Akira whined. Then she remembered. She did
"It's your Quirk. It can easily control a psionic." She sighed.
"Also, it would keep any sort of favoritism out of the equation. Keep things objective," Aizawa said. They heard the other two heroes approaching. It was hard to miss, with the human bullhorn there with her uncle.
"Come on, Kan! Party this Saturday night. Got drinks, dancing, music." Akira heard the DJ whisper, rather he tried, since he wasn't exactly discreet.
"Maybe you'll get some loving, Kan!"
"Shush, you! There are little ears in the house, you parrot." Her uncle cautioned.
In front of her, Aizawa rolled his eyes at his friends, so did Akira.
"We can hear you both, and I'm fifteen, if anyone's asking. I completely understand whatever it is you're-uhh-talking about."
"How can you possibly know what we're talking about?" Her uncle asked her.
Akira stood up, taking the glass of water with her and spoke.
"I had a girlfriend."
She walked out of there and the three adults said nothing for a few seconds.
"Well, that answers your question," the raven-haired man mumbled. Yamada chuckled behind them. Her uncle sighed.
Kids these days…
"Today is...uhhh… not that good… but, ya know, not that bad as well." She began to speak but took a long breath. A USB microphone was propped up in front of her computer desk whilst she sat. Her voice, faintly trembling, slowly steadied.
"This new start is, to put it mildly, a great experiment. I will now know what it feels to be the rat in the maze. The dissected frog. It hella scares and intrigues me. Is that wrong? I don't know. Should I worry? Fuckin' always."
"I know no one's gonna hear this. But I never liked the aspiration of becoming a hero. The danger. The media. I always thought it wasn't for me, but a lot of people were telling me I should do it. Dad. Mom. Uncle. They all did. A long time ago anyway."
"I didn't like it before. Now, I might become one. We always thought we got things figured out, ya know. Guess I never did."
"Also, I'll be honest, I really didn't know what to do after Junior High." she chuckled shamefully. She scratched her cheek.
"I have no idea. I think I was high on sugar the whole time in Career Day or something," she admitted.
"Maybe...just maybe, I'll find it here. Maybe, I'm being shoehorned to the right place." She said with hope. It was foreign and strange, hope, and it scared her more than a crime syndicate. More than a villain. More than the sound of judgment in a courtroom.
"If becoming a hero can help me find the answers to my nightmares… then I'll better do my best. No one can do this but me. No one."
No one.
Author's note:
Ask questions. Comment. React. I am happy to talk to readers. Also, planning to blog about this as I write or, heck, I might even make a Podcast about my adventures into the fanfiction world. The future is open and untold.
Possible PAIRINGS WITH MY OC ('COZ ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE & only four people could fit the settings. Not in any order. The OC hasn't met some of these. Just telling you guys a little bit of my plan.)
- Bakugo Katsuki
- Yaoyorozu Momo
- Todoroki Shoto
- Kirishima Eijirou
- Iida Tenya
- Tokoyami Fumikage
- Shinso Hitoshi
- Shigaraki Tomura
- Dabi