Why did you become a hero?

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What was the reason?

First Grade

Her Mom insisted that she make friends on her first day. Even as she sat still, letting her Mom drag her crimson nails through her dark hair, she listened to the words that were spoken. They were the same as last night, same as the night before, the same since she could remember. Her Mom's hands were always so gentle as they combed through her silky locks…Suzuki Aimi had no choice but to listen.

"Please, Aimi," She could feel phantom nails rake against her scalp—even through the shouts and screeches of the children before her, she could only hear the desperation in the words spoken to her minutes ago, "Please make friends."

There was no reason she couldn't.

With doe-like brown eyes, straight inky hair that barely brushed her shoulder, and a smile that people told her 'beamed', there was no reason for her not to. She was the innocence others looked for: childlike, sweet, pure. If only, Aimi thought to herself, her eyes scanning over her future classmates, they knew what I remembered. The hand on her shoulder tightened, pulling her from her thoughts.

Her Mom was glancing at her, concern and adoration sparkling in eyes that mimicked the ocean. No matter how strong the urge to frown was, the twitch in her cheek that alerted her of the notion about to come, Aimi always found herself smiling at the last second. Her Mom deserved her smile—deserved to see her only child happy.

She sacrificed far too much for her.

The classroom felt warm, the small thumps that echoed around the room almost synchronized with each other. With walls a mix of a pastel blue and green, paper flowers littering the then, and windows every few feet, the room gave life to the murky day. Aimi watched with wide eyes as her teacher smiled—a kind-looking woman with startling dark blue hair—when she entered.

"It's nice to meet you, Aimi-chan," Tanaka-sensei (her Mom made sure the name was drilled in her head. She was not allowed to go anywhere with someone unless they were Tanaka-sensei) smiled, daintily shaking Aimi's small hand, "Have you discovered your quirk yet?"

Aimi didn't have to look behind her to see the strained smile crossing her Mom's face, her shoulders becoming rigid. It made sense. Since she could remember life here, talk of her quirk never left the thick walls of their home. Nothing was wrong with it, per say—nothing that would make her abnormal in a world where she desperately needed to be normal. It was just, well, it was just that her quirk was incredibly specific.

So specific, that is, that only one other person had the same and her using it would be a gamble Aimi would not take.

Because her Mom already sacrificed so much.

But, Aimi was supposed to be six, and six-year-olds weren't supposed to be burdened with such matters. Carefully, with a practiced childish charm, she beamed, blatantly flashing the new gap in her front teeth. Aimi noticed that adults were kinder when she acted cuter.

"Yes, Tanaka-sensei!" Her voice too squeaky and high-pitched for her own liking. Adults found it adorable, though, "I did!"

Gentle fingers ran themselves through thick, onyx strands, vermillion-painted nails lightly scratching her scalp. The classroom was loud, Aimi noticed. Only a few kids had arrived, not enough to fill the classroom but enough to have shrieks and giggles and loud conversations fill the air.

"Aimi," Her Mom's said, words soft and soothing, "Why don't you go play?"

She turned, large brown eyes clashing against her Mom's light ones. Sometimes, people couldn't fathom that the two were mother and daughter. At her Dad's dinner parties, especially when she was younger, they would always make comments that made her Mom frown. It was only then Aimi let her lips mirror the downturned pout. Although her Dad laughed at their quips and remarks, she saw the sharp look that darkened his eyes. The way his grip on her Mom's hand would tighten—silently trying to comfort her in the only way he could—and the loss of respect in the gaze he sent the person.

"Okay, Mama."

The warm weight upon her head vanished, Aimi already walking towards her unknown destination. She could hear the fading remarks that left her Mom's lips—knowing that she was asking Tanaka-sensei to never ask Aimi about her quirk in front of the class…begging her to make sure Aimi never showed it.

That's the way of life, dude, she snickered to herself.

Her steps began to waver, her gaze flickering around the room as she wondered, who should I sit with. Two boys were playing with their action figures in the corner of the room, reenacting a fight they must've seen on TV. Weird how children are openly allowed to watch violence here, Aimi rubbed her nose, Mama still doesn't like it when it watch—even if Dad's fighting. Her eyes drifted towards the yellow table in the center of room. A group of girls colored pictures together. One was talking loudly, the others merely listening to what she had to say. Aimi pursed her lips. Truthfully, she didn't want to go to either. They were content—already with friends and she didn't want to intrude.

But…

Aimi tilted her head, bangs swaying to one side, her eyes narrowed with glee. A boy sat in the back of the room—a boy she completely missed. Messy black hair coiled and curled around an alabaster complexion, dark purple bags marring the skin. He didn't sleep again, did he? It made sense, that was probably why he was asleep now. Head resting on the palm of his hand, eyes shut, shoulders evenly rising and falling, Aimi made her way to him. He's asleep, she smiled, slowing her pace and tip-toeing closer to him, he's so faking it.

"Hi, Shouta-chan!' Her voice cut through the air as her hands slammed onto the desk in front of him. Aimi knew that she was smiling—actually truly smiling. Shouta, as she expected, did not jump or gasp or give any sign that she startled him. Instead, he lazily opened his eyes and irises only a shade lighter than the pupil met hers, "Isn't this so exciting! We have class together."

Her tired friend merely blinked, "Aimi-chan, you're too loud."

Aizawa Shouta was the friend Aimi was waiting to see. Her Mom insisted that she made friends. One, however, was perfect for her.

Besides, she knew that Hizashi and Nemuri would come soon enough."

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ana