Beach, Musutafu, 8:33AM
January 9th, 2139.
The day I unlocked my quirk, I fell apart, and that isn't a metaphor.
"When is Nanami getting here?" I asked, voice quiet.
"They won't be here for another half-hour," Hayami Higawara said, "You might as well go for a swim now if you don't want to wait—I'm sure they won't mind."
I eyed the expensive paper fan she used to cool herself with, wondering why I never saw anyone else use them. Thinking carefully about my response, I tried to figure out what I should do. If I went for a swim now, Nanami might be upset with me for not waiting for her and the last time she was upset, she had cried for almost ten minutes straight. I couldn't tell if that was a lot compared to most people because she was really the only one I had seen cry with any kind of regularity. Once, I heard a rumour about an evil monster that hid inside closets and came out only to steal little children away. I'd thought it was an interesting story, but when I told Nanami about it, she'd burst into tears. There was also the time I told her I would wait to watch the latest episode of 'Warrior Woman: Moon Ninja' with her, then I'd watched it on Hayami's computer later that night. Nanami had been even more upset that time, although I still wasn't sure why. I asked uncle Sajin why Nanami cried so much more than everyone else did, and he told me that I was looking at it wrong. Apparently, everybody cried, and according to uncle Sajin even I used to cry when I was still a baby, although I couldn't actually remember it. As far as I can remember, I hadn't ever cried, and when I asked uncle Sajin about that, his response was that some people felt things far more strongly than I did. At his request, I promised him I'd try not to make her cry anymore, and he told me he'd be watching to make sure I didn't break my promise. That meant that in order to keep my promise to uncle Sajin, I shouldn't go for a swim now because it might end up making Nanami cry. Besides, the last time I made her cry, her mother gave me a particularly nasty look.
"I'll wait until Nanami gets here," I decided, and then I fell apart.
My fingers fell off first, followed by my arms and then the rest of me disintegrating into tiny grains of sand to fall down onto the beach beneath me. Hayami's raised eyebrow turned into an expression filled with terror as I held my crumbling hand up to my face—and then I was on the ground, or perhaps I was on the ground. Everything felt strange like I was being pulled in a million directions at once, and for a moment, I was looking at everything around me from every direction, each dot of sand a new point of view to observe the world. I watched as aunt Hayami went mad, crawling around on the sand, and I felt her fingers sinking into parts of my body, flinging them around as she tried to discover where I'd gone.
"Hisoka. Hisoka?" Hayami cried, "Don't panic. It's going to be alright. Just—just, don't move."
I couldn't really understand where my body had gone, or my arms, or my head. Attempting to twitch my fingers caused a splash of myself to rise up off the beach before dispersing again—how strange.
"Hisoka—you're just like uncle Sajin, okay? A little bit worse, maybe—It's going to be alright," Hayami said before cutting herself off, "You just need to pull yourself back together; you can do that, right?"
Could I? I felt around with that feeling that usually let me know where my hands were; it was in a lot more places than usual, but I could still feel myself, even if all of the parts I was used to had changed shape entirely. Starting with what I could get a mental grip on, I started sending more puffs of sand in aunt Hayami's direction, hoping to signal that yes, I was still here, and maybe I could.
"That's it." Hayami spluttered, the minor assault on her ending with some of me being spat back out of her mouth. "Keep doing that."
The wealth of feedback I got from those attempts at movement helped a lot in distinguishing what I had to actually do in order to access myself, and within a minute, I was moving as much of myself into a lump next to aunt Hayami.
"Very good. Now, you need to—to—to shape the pile; remember what you look like?" Hayami tried, still not quite herself. "You've got two arms, two legs, and a torso—perfect. Now you need to put a head on your shoulders. That's it, eyes, nose, mouth—the details are already coming in."
It was getting more comfortable by the second, and the closer I came to shape like my usual self, the simpler the task became. At some point, it was almost a twitch to solidify back into Hisoka, the short, black-haired boy. I blinked, and my body felt almost normal, except I could still see all around me in every direction and from everywhere else on the beach.
"Oh my god, Hisoka," Hayami cried, dragging me into her grasp, "You scared me half to death."
That didn't feel particularly fair, considering I hadn't meant to do anything at all and that the entire situation had been just as much of a surprise to me as it had been to her. It wasn't so bizarre, though, or unexpected, considering I had grown used to seeing uncle Sajin transforming his upper body into sand multiple times, and even Hayami could transform hers into stone. It was never their complete bodies, though, although I wondered if that was a choice they'd made to avoid putting themselves back together or if this was another facet of my life in which I would be different.
"Sorry, aunt Hayami," I said, looking over her shoulder. "Nanami's here."
From the back of my head, I could see their small silver car in the process of parking, and within moments of them coming to a complete stop, the back doors were open, and Nanami was rushing towards the beach. Hayami held me at arm's length for a moment, looking almost as if she was trying to make sure I was really there, and once she'd managed to trick herself into believing it, she rose to her feet.
"I'm going to go speak with her parents," Hayami managed, taking a deep breath. "Don't go anywhere, okay? Just—just stand right here."
"Okay, aunt Hayami." I agreed.
Nanami sped straight past my aunt, barely taking the time to say hello before she hopped to a halt in front of me with her arms spread out around her as if to encompass the entire beach and all of the ocean within her grasp.
"Hisoka." Nanami said, voice bright, "You waited for me."
"Yes," I said, nodding. "Nanami, I learned something new. Do you want to see it?"
"Duh." Nanami said, excited. "Show me."
I fell apart into a million pieces, and then Nanami immediately burst into tears—I'm sorry, uncle Sajin, I broke my promise already.
#
Medical Clinic, Musutafu, 11:01AM
January 13th, 2139.
"Come in—come in." Doctor Mimi said pleasantly, "I'm sorry it's taken so long to get you an appointment. There's been a surge of quirks this month; apparently, it's a popular time of the year, if you don't mind me saying."
"I bet it is," Hayami said, laughing. "That's quite alright, darling. This is Hisoka, and I'm his aunt, Hayami. Say hello to the nice Doctor, Hisoka."
Making sure to check before I made the same mistake I'd made yesterday, I ensured she had no ring on her hand before speaking.
"Hello, miss," Hisoka said, nodding at the word. "It's nice to meet you."
"My—such manners." Doctor Mimi said pleased, tone pitched as if she couldn't believe I could even exist. "It's a pleasure to meet such a polite young man."
Oddly enough, aunt Hayami was preening at the words, like she'd been the one the doctor was talking to.
"He scared the life out of me the other day, burst into a pile of sand right in the middle of a sentence," Hayami said, shaking her long hair about. "Sand is a common theme in our family; of course, his father, uncle, and grandfather all had a similar quirk."
"That's not uncommon amongst families," Doctor Mimi smiled in agreement, "His uncle must be—hm—that hero? I think I've seen him on television before; he can turn the top third of his body into sand?"
"My older brother Sajin, yes, that's him," Hayami said.
"Do you have a similar quirk as well?" Doctor Mimi asked.
"Yes, I'm able to accomplish much the same as my brother, except with stone—no sand for me, I'm afraid. Then again, I think I got the better deal." Hayami said, pleased and clearly happy to talk about herself, "I've made quite a living making sculptures, you see—statues and busts in particular—my quirk is quite applicable in that area."
"I've actually seen some of your work as well," Doctor Mimi admitted, looking interested. "It is quite something to see."
"Yes, yes, that's sweet of you to say," Hayami said, eyes sparkling. "Thank you, darling."
I'd never seen her look so vibrant and alive before, and I wondered how a stranger could make aunt Hayami look at them that way with nothing but a few short words. The power this doctor wielded over the human body was mighty indeed.
"Well, let's see to Hisoka, then shall we?" Doctor Mimi said, tone stretching high again as she turned to look down at me, "Can you tell me about your quirk, sweety?"
The tone drew my attention again, but the look of expectation she was aiming at me was enough to direct me towards thinking about her question. I didn't want to make a mistake, so I made doubly sure about it before speaking.
"I am able to turn into sand and control sand," I said, nodding. "I can make more sand as well."
My own words sounded odd, the repeated use of 'sand' throwing it off entirely. I frowned, wondering if she would let me try again.
"That's wonderful, Hisoka." Doctor Mimi said, smiling, "Does it hurt at all when you change?"
I studied her face for a moment, wondering if she thought my response was wonderful or my quirk. It wasn't obvious to me which she had directed the comment at, and she was already waiting for the next answer, so I was forced to move on before I could ask. Closing my eyes for a moment, I considered it; it was difficult getting used to seeing in every direction at once, but it had never hurt. Falling apart didn't hurt either, but when I'd fallen over and scraped the skin off my knee, it had hurt—at least until I'd made a new leg out of sand.
"No, Miss," I said, "Do quirks usually hurt?"
"Unfortunately, some quirks do." Doctor Mimi said, tone still odd. "Although I'm glad that's not the case with yours."
It was obvious now that she was changing her voice every time she spoke to me and then back again when she spoke to aunt Hayami. The reason she was doing it wasn't as obvious, but now that I'd noticed it, I found myself trying not to frown. I'd learned not to ask people about things like this in public because aunt Hayami would get embarrassed, and I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. Doctor Mimi leaned to, covering her mouth with her hand like she wanted to tell me a secret, but when she spoke, it was easily loud enough for aunt Hayami to hear.
"Have you been using it very much?" Doctor Mimi said.
"Yes," I said, "I filled my room with sand last night."
"You did?" Hayami said, surprised, "I didn't see any when I woke you up this morning?"
"I got rid of it before you came in," I said, "That's why you didn't see it."
"Got rid of it; how?" Doctor Mimi asked, "Did it vanish? Or can you absorb it?"
"I don't know where it goes," I said, uncertain.
I'd heard the word 'absorb' before, but I don't think I had a good idea of what it meant, so I didn't want to say something that was wrong. I also didn't want to embarrass aunt Hayami by asking now, so I would wait until we went home and then look it up.
"That's very interesting, Hisoka," Doctor Mimi said, voice taking on that breathy quality again, "I have some more questions to ask you, okay?"
I frowned.
#
Park, Musutafu, 12:53AM
January 13th, 2139.
Nanami was my very first friend and, for a long time, my only one. The first time she had spoken to me was at this same park. Nanami wanted to know if she could use the swings, of which there were two, and where I only occupied one. I thought the request was odd, considering she could have taken the other one that was free, but I had no personal attachment to it. I left her on the swings and sought out the flying fox. Only Nanami had wanted to use to flying fox too, and so I left her there by herself, returning to my previous location. Nanami hadn't wanted the swings or the flying fox for herself; she'd wanted to play with me. This would mark the very first time I made Nanami cry, but I didn't know her name then, so I liked to think it didn't count. Aunt Hayami, as it happened, seemed to develop an interest in going to the park after that and the frequency at which I encountered Nanami would continue to grow until we were going to the park almost every other day. Aunt Hayami certainly seemed to enjoy talking to Nanami's parents.
"It's not fair," Nanami complained, kicking at the bark. "I'm two years older."
I was almost positive that Nanami wasn't talking about her age specifically but rather the unfairness of having someone two years her junior unlocking his quirk when she hadn't had quite the same results. As we grew older, I would learn that Nanami could be very impatient.
"You will get your own soon," I said before pausing. "Although it's possible you won't get one at all."
Nanami's face scrunched up, and I stared at her, realising in the aftermath that I had said something to upset her once again.
"I'll absolutely get one." Nanami managed, "It will be something amazing too, like flying horses."
"Okay," I said, "But what's amazing about that?"
Did she want to become a flying horse? Maybe she wanted to make flying horses? Or perhaps she just wanted the power to command a flying horse should she come across it. I wondered why she wouldn't want a creature that already possessed the ability to fly.
"Um. Well, horses don't usually fly, right?" Nanami said, waving her arms about, "So it would be pretty cool if they suddenly started zooming around in the air."
I tried hard to picture it, but I couldn't quite see the magic that she could. Turning my attention to my hand, I generated some sand above my palm, compressing it down into the shape of a very rough horse. Then I tried again until I had something that didn't look like a blob with four-point sticking out of it and a lumpy mass for a nose. Once I was sure she would associate my creation with the horse it was intended to be, I sent it limping forward through the air.
"See?" Nanami said, clearly excited by the construct. "But, Hisoka, you didn't give it wings."
Oh. Was I supposed to? I'd never seen a horse with wings, and I doubted a horse would be able to lift itself off the ground even if it did have them. The weight and shape of it would make that impossible, wouldn't it? I focused a bit more, adding two vague wing shapes to strike up out of its back. The winged blob gave a flap of its great sandy tentacles—and then exploded.
"Oh," Nanami said, sniffling.
I recognised the signs and acted quickly to safeguard my promise to uncle Sajin.
"I'm not very good yet, so I'll make sure to practice it for next time," I said, leaning in like I was telling a secret, just like Doctor Mimi. "Okay, Nanami?"
Nanami's smile brightened at the promise, and I nodded at my success. Another piece of bark went flying as Nanami returned to destroying the general area.
"Everyone else in my class has one already," Nanami said before pouting. "Haru made fun of me too."
Haru was a reoccurring villain from her class, or so Nanami spoke of him. Many of her tales involved the other boy saying something wrong and making her cry. At first, I had felt a kind of distant kinship with the other boy, considering just how often I seemed to accomplish the same thing by accident. But the more I heard about him, the more I realised that we weren't really alike at all, and I was starting to grow annoyed at the continued harassment.
"Do you want me to make him stop?" I asked.
I'd heard how many times Haru had been in trouble, and it was very clear that the teachers had spoken to him before, but nothing seemed to stick. Maybe If I tried hard enough, I could find something that would work.
"No way." Nanami laughed, "He'd beat you up for sure."
Oh. I wasn't really sure what that meant or if it was even accurate, but Nanami knew both of us, so I could probably take her word for it.
"Okay, Nanami." I agreed.
Instead of soothing her like I had thought it would, my agreement seemed to have the opposite effect.
"Hey, don't give up so quickly," Nanami said, planting her hands on her hips. "You're supposed to say you'll beat him up for picking on me anyway."
"Oh," I said, "Do you want me to beat Haru up for you?"
"I don't want you to beat him up because I asked you to, dummy," Nanami said, crossing her arms. "I want you to want to beat him up because he's mean to me."
The way she said it made me think she was repeating something she'd heard from someone else back to me. I thought about what she was asking, trying to figure out what she actually wanted me to do. I didn't really want to beat Haru up, partly because I still wasn't sure what that was, but mostly because I didn't really want anything at all—except to make sure Nanami didn't cry again. I didn't get it, not really, but I thought that maybe she wanted me to take action without being asked to do it first. Whatever good Nanami found in that, I wasn't sure, but I didn't really need to know to do what she wanted. Everybody had such strange rules they wanted me to follow. It seemed like every single day, I would uncover a new one. Sometimes, it was hard to keep track of them all, but I thought I might be getting better at it. Besides, Nanami was my friend, and uncle Sajin told me I had to protect those.
"I'll do it properly from now on," I said, "Promise."
Nanami's smile was radiant.
#
Hayami's Home, Musutafu, 1:53PM
February 25th, 2139.
"Hey, buddy," Sajin said, "Enjoying your birthday? It's not every day that you turn six, you know?"
What a strange thing to say, you didn't turn any age every single day.
"Hi, uncle Sajin," I said, smiling anyway. "You got the day off."
"I did," Sajin said, "Almost didn't happen, but I pulled a few strings at the agency—now; what's this I hear about you turning into sand, huh? Taking after the handsome side of the family, I see."
I'd seen the family pictures of my father, Sajin, and Hayami together. They all had blonde hair and blue eyes. My father, like Sajin, had a sand-related quirk, and my mother did not. The pictures of my mother that I had seen showed that I looked more like her, with dark hair, eyes, and a pale complexion. Both sides of the family were handsome, but he had said the comment in relation to my quirk appearing—which left me having absolutely no idea what Sajin meant. I also realised that I hadn't spoken in almost fifteen seconds.
"I scared Hayami," I said before pausing. "Nanami too, afterwards."
Sajin started laughing, the motion sending his large bushy moustache wiggling about above his lip.
"You made her cry again, huh?" Sajin said, smiling. "It's like clockwork."
I found myself mouthing uncle Sajin's catchphrase under my breath, and Sajin reached down to pat me on the head.
"I'll do better," I promised.
"That's all any of us can do, Hisoka. Try and be better." Sajin said, nodding. "Keep that mindset, and you'll know that I'm proud of you. Okay, buddy?"
That, I knew, was something that I wanted.
"Okay, uncle Sajin," I said.
"Now, why are you out here, anyway?" Sajin said, looking around the balcony as if he would find the clues needed to solve the mystery. "Too many people?"
"Yes," I admitted, "I was going to come back inside, eventually."
They both heard Nanami call out at the top of her lungs, the noise making it through the balcony door and outside.
"It's like clockwork," Sajin said, laughing again. "Come on, you better not make her celebrate your birthday on her own, or she might start crying again."
#
Hayami's Home, Musutafu, 1:53PM
March 29th, 2139.
The excited voice of Nanami floating up the stairs and through the gap under my door heralded the arrival of the Kuretas. I began absorbing all of my sand as Nanami's furious footfalls progressed up the staircase and towards my room. By the time the door burst open, I was already standing in the middle of my room, waiting.
"Guess what?" Nanami said, voice filled with glee.
Considering that her quirk appointment had been scheduled for today, that she was so obviously excited, and there were no tears in sight, the most reasonable explanation was that her quirk had finally been identified. In order to prevent a future in which I ruined Nanami's clearly intended reveal, I made sure not to answer the question.
"Hi, Nanami, I didn't realise you were here," I said before pausing. "I don't know; what is it?"
Nanami preened at the question, twisting her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels.
"I found out what my quirk is," Nanami said, smiling bright. "Finally."
A rather timely occurrence, given that the school year would be starting again in only a couple of days. Now, at least, she wouldn't have to feel bad whenever someone asked after her quirk. It also meant that my own start of school was arriving, and for the first time, we would be attending the same school together. Uncle Sajin had made it clear to me that we wouldn't be sharing the same classes, or teachers, given that we were in different years, but I wasn't sure Nanami had realised it yet. Perhaps that's why he had told me, so I could have more time to prepare for the eventual upset.
"Congratulations, Nanami," I said, "What does it do?"
Nanami beamed at the question, and I found myself curious about what her answer would be. Quirks were far more interesting than most things I had interacted with. Nanami had been correct; flying horses were cool, but mostly because they shouldn't have been able to.
"It's an amp—li—fi—cation quirk," Nanami said, the clearly rehearsed word coming out in a steady staccato of syllables. "Pretty cool, huh?"
I'd never heard the word before, and my interest in the topic grew further. Reading was good, but finding out the meaning of new words was better.
"Very cool," I said, "What does amplification mean?"
Nanami pouted as I repeated the word back to her.
"It means that I can make other people's quirks better," Nanami said, turning her nose up. "The doctor said I was going to be very popular."
There were several times when she had been wrong about things like this, so I would have to actually look the word up later, just to make sure.
"That's really cool, Nanami," I said, impressed. "I'm glad you got your quirk."
"The doctors also said that I was lucky to get such a good one," Nanami beamed, "And—and that one day I could become an amazing hero, like your uncle."
"Do you want to become a hero, Nanami?" I asked.
"Yes," Nanami said, beaming. "You have to become a hero too, and then we can make a team. We'll become super famous and save the whole world together, okay?"
I wondered what we would save the world from or if it even needed saving in the first place.
"Okay, Nanami." I smiled. "Let's save the world."
Nanami's eyes sparkled.
#
Hayami's Home, Musutafu, 6:53AM
Monday, April 4th, 2139.
Spread throughout my bedroom, I pressed into cracks, gaps, holes and every other space that I could find. In the middle of the room was a single column of empty space, and standing in the middle of it was my twelfth attempt to make a Nanami. Last night, uncle Sajin and aunt Hayami had spent several hours showing me how to make another person out of sand, but I wasn't very good at it yet. Uncle Sajin could make people, too, although he seemed to think making them at full scale was unusual. Aunt Hayami, as a world-class artist and a self-proclaimed perfectionist, had told me so many things about how to structure the face that I wasn't sure I remember more than half of them, and of that half, I wasn't sure if I understood what she was even saying. I wasn't going to give up, though. According to them both, I was currently terrible, but that I had the potential to be just as good as either of them or maybe even better, should I continue to practice every day. The Higawara family motto had come up many times during the conversation.
"Strength and persistence," I said, using the Nanami to speak.
Today would be my first day at Musutafu Elementary, and according to aunt Hayami, they enforced a strict dress code. The school uniform that she had brought for me was folded neatly on the bed and currently buried beneath my sand. Nanami had complained about the uniform on more than one occasion, but I didn't find himself nearly as bothered by the idea. I was far more interested in seeing the faces of all the names I had heard stories about. Even if we weren't in the same class, I would be able to see her during lunch. Uncle Sajin had accurately predicted the outcome, and Nanami cried again when it finally occurred to her. To make her stop crying, I was eventually forced to make a promise; to do so well on the tests that my teacher would have no choice but to put me in her class. I wasn't sure if teachers could even do something like that, but Nanami had seemed pretty certain at the time. We weren't supposed to use our quirks, but maybe, if I was particularly careful, I could send some of my sand to sit with her during class. That way, I could see all the faces and names in her classroom first-hand—the Nanami crumbled as I lost concentration.
"Strength and persistence," I said before trying again.
Nanami was still my only friend, although there had been several attempts by aunt Hayami to change that. Both attempts had ended with me returning to sit at her side while the others played together. The other children had liked Nanami because she was just like they were, but I didn't get along with them, or rather, they didn't like me. I was too different. Too silent. I took too long to respond. I wasn't fast. I stared too much. I asked difficult questions. I grew bored too easily. I used too many words. I asked stupid questions. I said the wrong things. It was the first time that I really understood the differences between Nanami and me. The newly built Nanami stood in the centre of my room. The face was wrong, the eyes too far apart, with eyelids protruding far too much. Her mouth stretched too wide and sat too high on her face. I flattened the face and started again, this time focusing on the smaller details first. It wasn't much better. Uncle Sajin could make an entire model of a person in less than a second after seeing them once. Apparently, it had taken him years of effort to get to that point, but it also hadn't been a focus of his. Being a professional hero for almost twenty years had led him to develop a different kind of skillset entirely. But the Higawara family all seemed to share some form of creative outlet, or so I'd been told. I'd watched him sweep his arm out to the side last night and make a picture-perfect copy of me in the space between blinks. When I'd attempted to make a copy of uncle Sajin, they'd both laughed at the massive moustache I'd placed across the figure's head in order to avoid having to attempt the face—Nanami had developed a similar moustache as I lost focus again.
"Strength and persistence," I said, committing it to memory once again.
I reformed the Nanami construct, paying particular attention to the shape of her eyes, nose, and mouth. It was by far the best attempt I'd made, but it was also missing both eyebrows and an ear. It was still just as terrible as aunt Hayami had indicated, but it was an improvement.
"Hisoka," Hayami called, from somewhere downstairs, "Come down and eat already, or you're going to be late for your first day."
Nanami collapsed, the sand surged inwards, vanishing as it went, and I slipped a thin tendril under the gap in the door before reforming outside in the hall.
#
Principal's Office, Musutafu, 10:53AM
Monday, April 4th, 2139.
"Explain to me exactly how this happened." Yukiko Sarada hissed, leaning over the desk.
I watched the way Principal Kazu leaned back before a bead of sweat gathered on his brow and a ruddy red colour washed across his face. Even without saying the words, I had a feeling he would have liked to be somewhere else.
"Miss Sarada, please sit down, and we will get to the bottom of this," Principal Kazu said voice firm. "Miss Higawara is on her way—"
"The bottom of this?" Sarada snapped, spinning around to stab a finger in my direction. "This little f—"
Principal Kazu surged forward to plant his hands on his desk, raising his voice in order to cut her off.
"Miss Sarada, please sit down." Principal Kazu snapped, "We will—"
The door opened, and aunt Hayami stepped inside with haste. She spotted me a moment later and then started forward, looking distressed.
"Hisoka," Hayami said, reaching me, "What happened? Are you okay?"
"Is he okay?" Sarada said, voice rising again, "My husband is sitting next to my son's hospital bed after this little bastard broke his arm."
Hayami flinched at the word and then spun to face Sarada, an expression of anger taking over her face. I couldn't remember seeing her like this before, her features sharp, angular, and almost birdlike.
"Do not use that language in front of him," Hayami said, almost vibrating. "How dare—"
"Fuck off," Miss Sarada snarled, her own anger just as bright. "You—"
"Be quiet," Principal Kazu snapped, slapping both of his hands down on top of his desk.
A massive crack ran through the piece of furniture before it caved in at the middle and collapsed onto the ground beneath him. Everyone fell silent at the massive man's loss of composure, and I wondered exactly what part of the situation had driven him towards breaking it.
"Miss Higawara, your son—he has been involved in a very serious incident this morning," Principal Kazu said, voice perfectly level. "The altercation left another student with a broken arm. It is indisputable, as there were several witnesses to the event, including two teachers."
Hayami turned to look down at me, shocked, and couldn't seem to find the words to address the situation. Sarada seemed to be taking some amount of pleasure in seeing my aunt looking so lost, and I spoke up to address the mistake I'd noticed.
"Hayami is actually my Aunt," I said into the silence. "Not my mother."
The words had the effect of drawing everyone's attention away from aunt Hayami and straight back onto me again. Principal Kazu cleared his throat at the words, coming to terms with the new information.
"My mistake," Principal Kazu said, a frown on his face. "Hisoka, this is a very serious situation, and you are in a lot of trouble. Can you explain your actions from this morning—why did you do this?"
Aunt Hayami seemed to be slowly recovering her composure as she turned to look at me again.
"Haru has been picking Nanami since her first year," I said because I wasn't sure if Principal Kazu knew anything about the situation yet. "Today, he cut the back of her ponytail off with a pair of scissors. Nanami was very upset, so I broke his arm."
Aunt Hayami and Principal Kazu stared down at me for a long moment, but Sarada seemed to find her second wind.
"He just admitted that he broke my son's arm on purpose," Sarada said, stabbing her finger at me again. "I want this little psychopath out of this school."
"Don't call him that," Hayami hissed.
Aunt Hayami took a step towards Sarada, and I wondered if they were going to fight.
"Enough," Kazu snapped, his voice deep and loud. "Hisoka, I appreciate you telling the truth. Miss Sarada, please go wait out in the hall while I deal with this—don't leave the building; I'd like to discuss Haru's actions with you first."
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me he's getting expelled," Sarada said, crossing her arms.
"He won't be expelled because this is his first offence," Kazu said, holding his hand up as she started to speak over him. "Hisoka will, however, be suspended for a month."
"A month?" Hayami said, shocked, "He needs to go to school—"
I took note of how the anger written across Sarada's face changed slightly, her cheeks rising slightly and causing her eyes to narrow. Her mouth was a flat line, but if not for it, she would have almost been smiling. How interesting that she seemed more interested in seeing aunt Hayami upset than anything else.
"I'll have his teacher send his coursework to your home, and you can make sure he doesn't fall behind." Principal Kazu said before turning back to look at me. "Hisoka."
"Yes, Principal Kazu?" I said.
"This kind of behaviour is completely unacceptable—both at school and in society at large," Kazu said, thick black brows pulled together into a wrinkled mass above his nose. "You cannot enact violence on others like this; If another student makes you angry in the future, you will not address it by hurting another person. You will come to me and explain it—do you understand?"
Sarada's face grew more animated as the large man spoke to me, even while aunt Hayami grew more stilted.
"If I get angry, or if I see something bad happening, I will come and speak with you first," I said, nodding. "I won't hurt anyone else."
"Very good," Principal Kazu said, "Miss Sarada, you've seen what you wanted; please wait outside."
Sarada's almost-glee turned to disgust at my response, Principal Kazu's words, or the resolution, I wasn't sure. She turned and pulled the door open with far more force than was required and then paused at the threshold.
"Don't you ever come near my son again you little monster," Sarada hissed.
The door slammed shut, hard enough to rattle the framed letters, awards, and certificates that covered the walls. Aunt Hayami's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her skin turning grey as her quirk began affecting her skin. Principal Kazu sat amongst the rubble of his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. School was hard.
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Hayami's Home, Musutafu, 4:47PM
April 9th, 2139.
I was grounded now, the first time I'd experienced such a thing. Leaving my room for anything other than eating, showering, or using the toilet was forbidden, at least until my suspension was lifted. Restricted from using the internet and doing anything other than reading—no fiction allowed. Additionally, I would be attending regular appointments with the school counsellor and a specialist doctor outside of school. I'd failed to stop Nanami from crying, and I'd found myself in trouble afterwards—neither of which were things I had thought to consider when I broke Haru's arm. I hadn't even seen Nanami since I'd been suspended, and as part of my punishment, she was also forbidden from coming to visit me. Without Nanami around, it was quiet, and the days seemed to be longer. I had a growing list of things that I wanted to tell her about, enough that I wondered if I'd already forgotten some of them. Uncle Sajin had asked me to recount everything that had happened between Nanami, Haru and me. After I told him, he asked again, with a request for much greater detail, with a particular focus on what I had been thinking at the time of each part. Once we'd gone through it several times, he took the time to explain all of the mistakes I had made and all of the other things I could have done instead. I'd committed all of it to memory, burning it all into my mind and adding the new set of social rules into the ever-growing pattern I was expected to adhere to. I looked up the words that Sarada had called me, but it had quickly turned into a cycle of looking up a hundred more complicated medical terms that were just as unknown. The mystery remained unsolved for now, but I was intent on discovering the answer.
"Strength and persistence," I said.
Uncle Sajin's voice floated up from somewhere downstairs, and then Aunt Hayami bit back a moment later, the two of them sounding entirely unlike themselves. I couldn't understand the words with all the obstructions in the way, but I could follow the tone and volume of each. Aunt Hayami's voice was rapid, high in pitch, and paused irregularly; she was upset, crying, and agitated. Uncle Sajin's voice was calmer, assured, and not quite angry but close. Even without hearing the exact words or being able to watch the expressions on their face, it was obvious what the problem was.
"Me," I murmured.
Aunt Hayami had been distant since the incident, staying away from my room except for necessities and schoolwork. It wasn't too different from our usual dynamic, as she hadn't ever been particularly affectionate before that. That isn't to say she disliked me because I knew that she didn't, and she had been the perfect guardian. But I'd said the words back in Principal Kazu's office, and that had summed up our relationship entirely—Hayami was my aunt, not my mother. Aunt Hayami had never wanted children, I knew, because I'd heard her tell Nanami's parents once. She had made a choice to never have children, to avoid settling down, and not to have a family. Then my parents had died two years ago, and she'd been expected to take me in as her own. Aunt Hayami could have said no because I knew that orphanages existed. Aunt Hayami could have gone on to live the life she had earned for herself with her successful career. She could have travelled abroad like she spoke about or gone to the events, parties and gatherings that were befitting of someone of her social status. She could have experienced everything she wanted, but instead, she had put her own life on hold to make sure that I would grow up cared for and wanting for nothing. Uncle Sajin had made himself available as well, but he hadn't been expected to or perhaps been willing to place his own future on hold. I could recognise that my existence caused problems for both of my parent's siblings, but I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do about it. Perhaps the first thing I should have done was consider how my actions would cause aunt Hayami to cry. Once again, I'd made things more difficult for them both of them. Uncle Sajin had a pristine record when it came to being right, and that meant that I tried my best to follow his rules in particular. He told me once, a long time ago, that everybody cried, and when I found myself rubbing at my eyes, I realised that he was right once again.
#
Sidewalk, Musutafu Elementary, 7:59 AM
May 2nd, 2139.
"Hisoka," Aunt Hayami said, taking a deep breath. "I know you must be sick and tired of me telling you by now, but I need you to promise me again that you will not hurt any of the other students—not even if you get angry, okay?"
"I won't hurt anyone, even if I get angry." I said, "I promise I'll be good, aunt Hayami."
Hayami watched me for a long moment before managing a smile. She brushed my hair with her fingers to tidy it up and then sent me on my way. This last month had not been good. Aunt Hayami had spent a significant portion of it crying in the privacy of her bedroom, and I had done my best to keep out from underfoot. I had no intention of making things any more difficult for her because that had never been something that I wanted. Uncle Sajin had come to speak with me again last night, and he'd patiently tried to explain something complicated. I hadn't followed it entirely, but I think I'd approached some kind of understanding of what he wanted me to know. He wanted me to start actively thinking about how the people around me reacted to each other. The words they used, the tone, the things they said, and the things they actually wanted to convey. It was something I'd been doing almost unconsciously up until this point, relying on the patterns I'd observed and then using them myself. Like the day I'd mimicked Doctor Mimi to make Nanami happy. Uncle Sajin wanted me to start thinking about it in advance, to work out what I should say and what I should do, long before I took any action. I needed to work on it in the same way that I worked on the details of my constructs.
"Strength and persistence," I said.
If I'd thought about it long enough, I probably wouldn't have broken Haru's arm. I might have come up with a smarter solution. I might have been able to avoid causing aunt Hayami a lot of problems. I might have realised that I wouldn't get to see my only friend for an entire month.
"Hi, Nanami," I said.
"Hisoka," Nanami bawled, almost strangling me in her attempt to perform the strongest hug I'd ever felt. "You dummy."
Sorry, uncle Sajin, I messed up again.
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