10 Years Ago…

Bleary eyes blinked back tears as the boy curled himself into a tight little ball where he sat, his knees to his chest.

He hated it here! He wanted to go home where it was safe. Instead, he was here in this stupid place where everyone was so mean. He didn't think he could stand living in this strange place filled with strange people for much longer.

His whole life he'd never felt alone, but now he had no one.

He missed his brother, he missed his grandparents. He missed home…why couldn't he just go home?!

With a furious shake of the head, the boy fought back a new wave of tears. The other kids had teased him mercilessly over how much he cried, he didn't wanna do it anymore. "Quit it you stupid crybaby." He muttered to himself.

"Are you talking to yourself?"

Startled, the boy hopped up quickly, spinning around to face the newcomer. "No I wasn't!"

Like everyone else in this place the boy didn't know the girl standing across from him. She was small, probably younger than him. She had dark hair that stuck out every which way and thick square-framed glasses. The thing that stuck out the most though was that the girl was completely covered from head-to-toe in what looked to be multiple oversized sweaters, a scarf, mittens and a facemask.

She stuck out like a sore thumb considering it was the middle of summer.

'What a weirdo,' the boy thought.

"It sure sounded like you were talking to yourself."

"Well I wasn't!" Insisted the boy, flustered.

The weird girl stared at him. She got really close to him, practically nose to nose. The boy could feel his face beginning to heat up as he stood frozen in surprise while this stranger examined every inch of his face.

Finally the small girl stepped back. "Were you crying?"

The boy sputtered. "N-no!" He was perfectly aware that his red-rimmed eyes gave him away but he refused to admit it. He was not a crybaby!

The girl raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. Though her mouth was covered the young boy was sure she was smirking at him. Laughing at him. Just like everyone else in this stupid place.

"Just go away!" The boy shouted angrily. He could take the older kids messing with him, but there was no way he'd let someone younger bully him too.

The weird girl didn't so much as flinch. Instead she sat down on the grass and began to unwrap the lunch box she had with her.

"What're you doing?" The boy demanded.

"What's it look like?" She shot back.

"I said go away!"

"You can't tell me what to do." the dark-haired little girl said plainly, pulling down her facemask before quickly taking a bite of her riceball and covering herself up again.

"How old are you?" The boy demanded

"Seven." she replied, taking another bite.

"I just turned eight!" He said triumphantly.

"So?"

"So that makes me older than you! I'm your senpai so you have to listen to me."

She took another bite, "….no thanks."

The darker-skinned boy didn't know what to do. Most bullying here was straightforward. He could deal with that. But he didn't know how to handle…whatever this was.

The silence between them stretched, becoming awkward. Despite himself the boy felt compelled to fill it. "Why are you wearing all that stuff anyway? Are you sick or something?"

"Or something."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, confused. When the silence began to set in once more he tried again. "Aren't you hot?"

She pulled out a juicebox and took a sip. "Yes."

"Then how come you don't take it off?" He wondered.

"I can't." The little girl's eyebrows had drawn together. Though the other boy couldn't see it, her face was set in a deep frown.

Equal parts puzzled and concerned, the boy sat down on the grass with her and began surveying her closely just as she had done to him. He felt claustrophobic just looking at her and it really was hot out. What if she fainted? "Are they stuck or something? I can help!"

She blinked at him owlishly for a minute then giggled. "I'm not stuck. I'm just not allowed."

"Says who?" Demanded the boy, instantly incensed.

"It's a rule." she said simply. "I can't take this off, especially if other people are around."

This was the most ridiculous thing the boy had ever heard. "That's stupid! People can't make you wear something if it makes you uncomfortable!"

She looked at him again, wide-eyed. "It's not that bad. I wear this all the time so I'm used to it."

It sounded as if she were trying to make him feel better and this made that boy even more angry on her behalf. This whole situation was wildly unfair. He hated things that were unfair. How dare this stupid place with it's stupid rules think it's okay to make a kid suffocate!

The boy shook his head fiercely. "You're all red, that means you're too hot. You can take it off, I won't tell!"

"I can't"

"You can." He insisted. "It's okay, there's no one around."

She shook her head. "It's for my quirk. I'm not allowed."

There was a pause as the older boy took in this information. And in that brief beat of silence the surprisingly loud rumbling of his stomach filled the air. Mortified, he looked for something distracting to say but came up empty.

"…are you hungry?"

"No!" He lied.

Without a word the girl picked up a riceball from her lunch box and handed it to him.

"…thanks…"

Thoroughly embarrassed, the eight year old took subdued bites despite being very very hungry. He'd come out to the playground instead of going to the dining hall for lunch because he'd wanted to be alone. He'd figured he could sneak some scraps later on. The riceball was a welcome surprise.

Wanting to play off his embarrassment the dark-haired boy was quick to pick up the conversation again. "So…" he began awkwardly, "what's your quirk?"

The girl's face tightened again like she was mad about something. The eight-year old didn't understand why. Asking about quirks was an extremely standard question when first meeting someone, second only to asking what someone's name was…speaking of which; he should probably get around to asking that too.

"What, is it really gross or something?"

"It's gas." She mumbled.

The boy laughed raucously. "Gas? Like farts?"

"Not that kind of gas!" She said sharply, blushing a violent red. "It's not funny!"

He had a hard time controlling his snickers. "It's a little funny!"

She looked like she might yell at him and the boy was just about to apologize, when suddenly she too fell into a fit of laughter.

"How's it work?" The boy asked curiously once they'd calmed down.

"So I make this gas—" more giggling filled the air— "and it makes you sleep."

"Cool!" The older boy exclaimed earnestly. "Can I see?"

His companion shook her head before quickly finishing her juice box, adjusting her facemask with deft precision. "I'm not allowed."

Oh yeah, the boy thought, he'd nearly forgotten that stupid rule. "So how come you gotta wear all that stuff all the time?"

"I can't turn my quirk off," she grumbled. "I make the gas all the time. If my skin isn't covered I'd make everyone around me sleep so I have to wear all this to keep everyone safe."

"Really?" He said surprised. "That sucks."

The girl nodded glumly. "Yeah. I first got it when I was out here at Rec Time and a bunch of kids went to sleep and fell. I have to wear this now so there's no accidents."

"Fell?"

"Like out of trees and off the play structure and stuff."

The boy winced in sympathy. He supposed the stupid rule wasn't so stupid now that he knew the reason for it, but still, having to risk heat stroke every time it was sunny out couldn't have been any fun.

"It's not all bad though!" The girl exclaimed cheerfully. "Once I got my quirk they let me have my own room, like the big kids do! It made everyone else really jealous though."

The boy could understand why. He certainly wished he had his own room instead of having to squeeze in with his less than friendly roommates.

"And," she continued. "They let me have lunch out here on the playground instead of inside with everyone else cuz I get too hot in there and I can just take my stuff off then since I'm usually alone out here."

The eight year old began to feel guilty. He hadn't realized he'd basically stolen her spot. "You can still take that stuff off now." He suggested.

"I can't, I'll knock you out."

"It's okay." He assured her. "I like naps." He also hadn't had a full night sleep since coming to Kenbo so the idea of falling asleep was actually pretty tempting.

Again she said no.

He didn't want to completely ruin the girl's only free time but he also didn't want to have to leave the playground and rejoin everyone else. "Can you take a few things off? Like the mask and the scarf? Or just your mittens?"

She deliberated over this. "Maybe…" she admitted finally, "but I don't know if I sh—"

"Try!" The boy cut in eagerly. "It'll be good practice if you start with small stuff like this. It'll be fun!"

There was a pause and the girl took several quick furtive glances around. He did the same. Once they were sure there was no one watching they waited on baited breath as she very slowly took off her facemask and!..

…nothing happened.

The lack of facemask revealed a perfectly normal—albeit very pale—face whose eyes were shut tight in concentration, and nothing else. It was almost anticlimactic.

"I did it!"

The happiness in her voice is so great he can't help but cheer too. "Yeah!" They grin wildly at each like they've just overcome some insurmountable feat instead of something so trivial.

Invigorated by their newfound success they're quick to press on with reckless excitement. The scarf is the next thing to come off and when that too poses no problem they moved on to mittens.

They go slow, one hand at a time, right first then finally the left. If anyone were to see them now it would've looked a little funny. He'd leaned forward and was looking at her outstretched hand closely like he'd never seen anything like it before. For her part the girl's face was screwed up like she was straining against something.

"Good job!" He encouraged cheerfully.

"Th-thanks."

The obvious strain in his companion's voice made him look up. "Are you okay? Do you wanna stop"

"It-it's okay!" she gritted. "I can keep going!"

"Are you sure? "Becau—."

Just then a pleasantly sweet smell hit his nostrils courtesy of the hand inches from his face. The boy had just enough time to admire the mist's violet color before he fell flat on his face, losing consciousness.

.

.

.

"..ey!"

"H..!"

"Hey!.."

"WAKE UP!"

With an almighty smack the boy was shot back to the land of the living and startled grey eyes met anxious blues. "Auwe! What was that for?!" It took about half a second for his brain to really wake up.

The first thing he noticed was the pain in his face that told him he'd just been slapped into next Tuesday. The second thing was that he was on the ground. He would've had a face full of sun if it weren't for the troubled face looming over him. "What…what happened?"

She offered him a hand up. He almost didn't notice that she'd put her mittens back on. Almost. "It's my fault, I'm sorry."

Wincing, he cradled his cheek gently. "Why'd you hit me so hard?"

"I had to make sure you woke up." She said seriously.

"…you small kine crazy huh?"

She raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. "Huh?

"Nevermind," he said quickly before hopping up to stretch. "How long was I asleep?"

"A few minutes." she replied, standing up too.

The boy nodded. "What's your name anyway?" When she didn't answer right away he added. "Or should I just call you Slap?"

The blue-eyed girl laughed. He liked that a lot more than the distraught look she had on her face moments before.

"My name's Kayama Nemuri!" She greeted enthusiastically, holding out her covered hand to shake. "You can use my first name if you want."

The boy shook her hand vigorously. "Sounds good to me!" Remembering to use last names was a bit of a pain for him anyway.

"What should I call you?" Nemuri bantered back. "Instead of 'Boy-Who's-Name-No-One-Can-Pronounce, I mean."

The boy balked, feeling his face heat up again at the ensuing embarrassing memory.

Whenever someone new came to Kenbo the caretakers made a point of holding a small assembly to introduce them to the rest of the kids. The boy's own introduction had been…less than stellar.

His full name—first, middle and last—was: Kōshiro Ioane Ishikari-Kāneakua. All together it was a little long, sure, but not necessarily complicated. The trouble was—in Japan there was no such thing as middle names, or hyphenated last names for that matter.

That meant his names had ended up all squished together on his paperwork. Add to that the fact that his names had also had to be translated into hiragana so that people here could read it and the result was that at his introduction assembly the name the adult's had called out was an incomprehensible mess that all the other kids found hilarious. That was one the reason's they'd latched on to the moniker of Crybaby; because they couldn't be bothered to learn his actual name.

In general at home with his grandparents they called him Ioane, but otherwise he'd always gone by—

"My name's Shiro." He said. "You can use Ishikari for a last name, I think it'll be easier for you to say. But you can really just call me Shiro."

"That's easy. You should tell other the kids to call you that instead of Crybaby."

Shiro scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Yeah whatever." He mumbled.

Nemuri shook her head. "They always mess with the new kid. You gotta stick up for yourself soon or they'll never stop."

Shiro found it funny how she used a collective 'they'. Like the children here were some sort of hivemind or pack of rabid wolves.

"How come you don't mess with me?" He asked.

Nemuri shrugged.

She'd never much liked the collective hazing that went on, but she liked it less once her quirk had come in. The incident on the playground had opened the door for ruthless bullying. Three years later the other kids had moved on to simply avoiding her like the plague. One could say the whole thing had left her with a soft spot for people like Shiro—underdogs, certified weirdos, outcasts, people who just don't fit in. Like her.

It had also left her a little lonely…

"It's not fair that they call you a cry baby ya know. Everyone cries when they get here. They're just extra mean to you 'cause they're jealous."

"Jealous?" Shiro asked, bewildered. "Jealous of what?"

"Some of the others think it's cool that you're from America. It's cool that you know English. You're from Hawaii so that makes you extra cool too."

They thought he was cool so they were mean to him?! "That doesn't make any sense!" Shiro exclaimed.

Nemuri sighed deeply. She thought the reason was obvious. Clearly the new kid needed a little extra guidance. "You've noticed it's the bigger kids that pick on you more, yeah?"

Shiro nodded.

"That's because you just got here and people already think you're cool. The bigger kids don't think that's fair." She explained. "Fresh meat's supposed to be at the bottom of the pile. Fresh meat's not supposed to be cool. Make sense?"

Fresh meat? "I-I guess." He replied lamely.

Nemuri nodded sagely. "That's also why they make fun of your Japanese—so that everyone will think it's lame that you're from America."

Shiro winced. It was true, his Japanese wasn't the best. He'd learned at school before coming here and his grandpa had taught him some at home but that wasn't the same as suddenly being immersed in a language 24/7. Shiro often had to pause to think about his answer if things got too complicated and his reading and writing skills weren't good at all.

"Don't worry!" Nemuri said quickly, seeing his somber face. "I think your Japanese is really good!…the talking part anyway 'cause you can't read… or write….but other than that—!"

"I get it!"

"They're also jealous 'cause eventually you'll get to leave and go home. No one ever gets to leave."

Shiro didn't know how to respond to this. What was he supposed to say? 'I'm sorry my family is still alive'?

"I can help you with your Japanese if you want."

"Really?" Shiro said in disbelief. Both happy for the change of subject and excited at the chance to learn.

"Yeah! I'm a really good reader, it'll be easy!" Nemuri declared confidently. "You've gotta teach me English too though so it's fair."

"Deal!" Shiro said eagerly and the pair shook on it. "We can work out here during lunch if you want. We can even practice your quirk more too so you don't have to wear all that stuff all the time."

Nemuri's confident gaze morphed into one of uncertainty. "Are you sure? We don't have to, we're even."

Shiro insisted. If they were going to be spending their lunch hour together he at least wanted to give Nemuri the option of not feeling like a walking oven. Besides, it seemed clear to him that no one else was either willing or able to help her work on her quirk.

Back home if a kid ended up with a quirk that affected their day-to-day life like that they saw a specialist who helped them come up with a training program or something similar that would help them learn to control their power as it grew. If needed they were fitted with accomodations like special clothing or support items.

Shiro had no way of knowing if it was a cultural difference or a simple consequence of where they were living, but either way he got the impression Nemuri hadn't seen any sort of specialist to help with her quirk. In fact if anything the most people around here seem to do to handle the situation was make Nemuri afraid of her quirk.

Shiro didn't think that was right. He was no doctor but he could at least try and help. "It'll be okay," he assured her. "Like I said, I like naps. Just promise not to hit me so hard next time."

Nemuri laughed. "Okay deal!"

That awkward silence began to set in between them again. It was plain to see that, though for different reasons, the both of them were out of practice at how to properly socialize.

"…there's still some time before lunch is over do you uh…do you want to play?"

He could've been wrong but it sounded as though Nemuri was expecting him to say no. Shiro couldn't imagine why. "Sure!"

They spent the rest of their lunch hour talking about Heroes and quirks. Shiro didn't know any of the local Heroes and Nemuri knew none of his favorites from back home, but they both knew about All Might.

A game of Heroes and Villains is better with more than two people but it was still plenty fun.

They raced each other to the swing set before trying to see who could go highest and then egging each other on to see who could jump off the farthest. By the time they were called back inside the pair were breathless and grinning broadly.

At the end of the day both tentatively wondered if they were now what you might call; friends.

A/N: I hope you guys don't mind this trip down memory lane, we'll be getting back to the main story next chapter. Thanks so much for the reviews last chapter. I hope y'all know I read every single one, sometimes several times a day!

The funfact for this chapter is that there is indeed no such thing as middle names or hyphenated last names in Japan. Married couples must share the same singular surname. Foreigners will find there is no place for a middle name on legal documents because they're just not a thing.