Just like the other children, she developed her quirk at the age of four. And just like any other children, she was giddy, brimming with excitement. Perhaps taking after her father, her quirk manifested in her eye. When she opened them newly awakened to her quirk, the world had become half of what it had once been. She blinked, small fingers gingerly rubbing over her right eye. She closed her left and the world fell into pitch darkness: her quirk had bestowed her with power, but not without a price, it seemed.

Having lived with two eyes for only four years, she adapted surprisingly fast to her new detriment, much to her father's relief. Her right eye had changed, now shining a dazzling amber, stark contrast to the black that she had once shared with him. His fingers curled through his daughter's black hair, gently ruffling it, gazing thoughtfully at her eye. Now that, he felt with pride he couldn't help, would grow to become a powerful quirk.

….

Every night, before she went to bed, her father would read to her stories of legendary heroes that had made a name for themselves. It was strange. These stories and people that seemed to come straight out of comic books and fairy tales, were actually real. In a world where supernatural powers had become the norm, her heart soared with every new tale her father told her. The many miracles and wonders made real. How dreams became reality. And with her father's gentle words drifting through her ears, she would fall asleep, her dreams filled with heroes standing triumphant over the big bad villains. All Might himself coming to the rescue as he vanquished the great evil with a proud smile on his face.

Sometimes there were stories hard to believe; of how a single punch from All Might had been enough to defeat ten villains. Of how Endeavor had summoned a fireball so grand that it had been like a miniature sun. She wouldn't have believed it If her dad wasn't a hero too. She had been surprised, shocked and then beyond ecstatic when he off-handedly mentioned he was a pro hero too.

Her father had many tales of the brave and the mighty. Yet strangely enough, never did he boast tales of himself and his adventures. Curious, she had searched it up on the internet, but to her shock, had found only snippets, small articles of the hero that was her father. So shocking was it to her, this difference between her father and All Might, that she had questioned him immediately when he had finished reading her bed stories.

Rubbing his dry, bloodshot eyes, he had blinked owlishly at the abrupt question before responding in his trademark monotonous tone, "True heroes never care for fame, Kurumi. Only those who wish to risk their lives for others, those with a selfless heart should aim to become heroes. Listen, Kurumi. Never be blinded by the fame and glory that comes with being a pro hero."

"Well, heroes like All Might deserves the fame he gets though," he added, "I never cared for it. Gets in my way of work."

Yawning, her dad's eyes had drooped with the exhaustion of the day as he threw himself onto her bed. With a small giggle, she pushed her face into the long, black strands of his hair so very much like her own as she settled down beside her father.

"Leave it to All Might and the rest to be the idols and favorites of brats these days." He mumbled before he drifted to sleep. His chest heaving and falling into a slow rhythm.

Most children her age looked up to glorious heroes, those with deeds and valor that made the news and were praised by the world. All Might was a prime example, a shining beacon that mesmerized many children. But her favorite hero wasn't anyone like that. It was a secret. A secret she would never tell anyone.

"But my favorite hero is the Eraser Head," She softly murmured into Aizawa Shouta's ear.