Quirkless. That's a word Kirra knew well. At the age of four, after her quirk failed to manifest, her mother took her to the doctor. A quick foot x-ray revealed that little Kirra would never possess a power like all her peers. It was at that age she discovered life's cruelest truth.
It isn't fair.
A young child with black hair walked home from school. She limped slightly, tresses obscuring her face. Quietly, she opened the front door, and let herself inside her home. Her mother's voice called out from the kitchen, speaking her native language of English.
"Dinner will be done in a couple hours. How was school, sweetheart?"
The girl tried to quietly make her way up the stairs to avoid answering or being seen; however, her mother peered out of the kitchen after hearing no response.
"Hunny?"
She stopped, arms pulled toward her center defensively while keeping her back to her.
"What's the matter?"
Gently, as if she would break, the dark-haired woman turned her daughter to face her. The sight she was met with made tears spring into her deep, brown eyes.
A large bruise sealed her right eye shut. Her lower lip was split. Dirt and smaller cuts littered her body. Her clothes were rumpled and ripped. The child refused to meet her mother's gaze.
The woman wrapped the beaten girl into a tight embrace, wanting to protect her from the world around her.
"I'm so sorry," she apologized.
Kirra didn't understand why her mother was apologizing. She knew it wasn't her fault. If she could chose, the girl knew her mother would give her a quirk each time. She was quirkless, and knew having a one wasn't everything, even if other kids thought it was.
The ravenette hugged her mother in return, as more of a comfort to the older woman than one of solidarity.
The four-year-old decided she wouldn't let the bullying change her. It was an impossible feet, but she could try.
As time past, Kirra found herself alone, isolated from her classmates. No one wanted to hang around the quirkless kid. She didn't let her loneliness show. Instead, she smiled every day, and even after being beaten, she'd tell her tormentors she forgave them.
She was strong-willed, forcing herself to hold no grudges. Kindness would win out. It had to.
By the start of Junior High, Kirra closed herself off. Too many times had people pretending to take pity on her, only to turn on her. It was always a prank, a dare, or just a plan to learn and expose her weaknesses.
Kirra tried to let it go, but every 'friend' lost cut deeper into her heart. She began to trust less, and treated people's kind acts as tools to bring more harm to her. She became skeptical of smiles and people who held the doors open for her. Everything and everyone was a threat to be assessed.
Her mother had a hard time getting Kirra out of the house. Things she used to love doing were tossed aside in favor of staying home to watch her father's videos and occasionally a movie. Instead of volunteering to pick up groceries, she'd fight tooth and nail to avoid going. The clubs she talked about joining fell to the way-side. Not even the book club sparked her interest.
It was that year that her mother searched for a therapist specifically for quirkless children.
It was her final year in Junior High when something happened.
The brown-eyed girl was packing her book bag when a shadow fell over her sitting form. She didn't need to look to know who it was.
"You won't be needing that," sneered Kikyo, snatching the career form that Kirra had been trying to place in her folder.
"What could a quirkless looser do, anyways?" another girl, Hinata, laughed. "No one will hire you."
"May as well give up ever having a job."
"Stupid bitch. Even your dad doesn't want to be around you."
Kirra thought she had learnt better self-control. She really did. Yet she found herself hazing out. Hearing them say that about her father... he was much too kind to ever abandon her.
The throb in her hand told her what she had done. She had punched one of the smaller girls in the face, knocking her into one of the desks. The others grew quiet, just as stunned as Kirra was. Regret flashed over her face. She knew she had fucked up.
"You bitch!"
"I didn't mean i-"
Kikyo grabbed her by her long, black hair and shoved her out of her seat to the floor. All six of the teens circled her. Some held her down while two worked to cut her hair off in a horrible hack-job with one of their quirks (which was being able to make one pair of scissors grow from her left hand). After the cutting, they kicked, stomped, and punched her. All she could do was curl into a ball to protect her important organs. Finally, after what seemed like ages, they stopped, Kikyo spitting on her.
"Learn your fucking place, Quirkless."
With snide laughter, the gaggle of girls left. It took some time for Kirra to sit up, and even longer for her to stand. All over ached. A tentative hand reached up to feel what was left of her raven locks. It reached up to her ears, but she'd likely have to cut it shorter in order to even the choppy ends up.
The sun was already setting as the lone teen made her trek home. She took a detour to the park. It was at least an hour out of her way, but she'd prefer being late than letting her mother see her in such a state at the moment.
'I just need some time to clear my head," she thought solemnly.
Kirra sat on a swing, eyes down as she let several tears drop off her face. Why was she born quirkless? Both her parents had quirks. Her mother could detect people's auras, and her father had immortality. Couldn't she at least get something?
"You can have power," a deep voice spoke.
The sound resonated in her ears, seemingly echoing despite there being no walls to bounce off of. The air quickly turned chilly as a strong gust of wind tore at her school uniform. The girl wrapped her arms around herself to preserve some warmth.
No matter where she looked, she found no face to put to the voice.
"Now, now," it tutted. "No need to be afraid. After all, I only want to.. help."
Kirra jumped off the swing set and looked behind her, but her search was fruitless.
"Who're you?" she dared ask. Being quirkless, she knew she'd knew she stood no chance against a villain. She couldn't even fend off the bullies at school.
"Who I am is unimportant. What does matter is what you want."
Backing up, Kirra froze. A firm pair of frozen hands rested on her shoulders. Ripping herself away from the stranger, she put a few feet between them before turning to face them.
There, stood a man dressed in a nice, black suit and clean dress shoes. His posture was immaculate, as his obsidian hair covered one of his equally dark eyes. His skin was grey, and his dress shirt pure white, like his perfect teeth. He was tall, but not freakishly so. One would dare say he was handsome, but she didn't care about that right then.
Her brown pools flickered down. The sight of the bare grass greeted her. She became unsettled as she realized he lacked a shadow. It was like he was a picture, and the artist either gave up half-way, or got lazy and skipped that detail.
All in all, this man utterly terrified her.
"No need to be frightened."
Despite his 'comforting' words, the girl was still very much on edge. The man was intimidating, to say the least.
"What do you want?"
Her own voice surprised her. She hadn't meant to ask. It just sort of slipped past her lips. The man cracked a smile -more like smirk- before answering.
"I want a great many things, dear. And one of them is to see you succeed. For you to truly know power."
The teen narrowed her eyes.
"Why?"
The man laughed, deep and booming. It almost seemed to come from all around them.
"Because of your father. You see, I owe him something very.. special. And this would be the start of that... repayment."
The way he emphasized those words didn't sit well with her. Nothing about him did, to be honest.
"Thanks, but no thanks."
Her answered didn't seem to bother him any. He even seemed to anticipate her response.
"Thought not. If you change your mind, just say my name. We'll work out the details after."
And, in the blink of an eye, the strange man was gone, leaving Kirra even more confused than ever.