I stayed alive for you.
When I thought my life would end, yours began and motivated me to keep living and keep writing. Thank you for letting me tell your story and let's enjoy the time we have left together.
-Yurari
[DISCLAIMER] This story deals with mature themes and may suggest or explicitly discus M/M+ subjects such as (but not limited to) various types of abuse, family issues, relationships, self-harm, and poor mental health. Please be kind as these topics have been heavily inspired by my personal experiences or those around me.
There is also a relationship in this story with an inappropriate age gap that I vehemently do not condone in real life. This story is tightly controlled by me and does not replicate how such relationships manifest in reality and should not be emulated or seen as acceptable. It is only featured in this work in this way as this is a work of fiction and I am not the original author, and therefore could not adjust the ages to my liking.
Preface
I begin this story with mixed feelings.
I've known about My Hero Academia since its serialization but refused to watch it until 2018, at the height of its popularity. I didn't want to write an OC-fic for it because my hands were so full with school and my One Piece story but ultimately caved in 2019.
This story (and especially this chapter) took over four years to write, with drafts in double-digit numbers. I'm still not entirely happy with how it came out but I figured that if I don't publish it this year, I'll end up shelving it forever.
This account is quite new but I've written OC-fics since 2010. But for many, complicated reasons, I couldn't publish this story and took an indefinite hiatus in 2020 after I started to seriously doubt my writing abilities. Publishing A Place Where the Chrysanthemums Bloom is therefore more than just symbolic to me. It was a chance for me to prove to myself that I can and should write, no matter how good or bad I was. This story is a really massive part of my soul. It's a tale that steps on and crushes my heart while it simultaneously consoles it. A place that lets me return even when I turn my back against it.
Chapter one spans almost 20k words and I've poured everything I know about writing, destroyed my style and rebuilt it from the ground up, pondered about people and our fickle relationships, all for the sake of properly telling this tale. I hope that the opening (though long) can pique your interest.
I'm a complete disaster right now but the story is here, and it's a mess but it's finally here. Never in my life did I expect myself to rush out an incomplete first version (thank you to those who checked it out!), then pressure myself to rewrite it entirely over almost half a decade because I felt so strongly that my OC and the original work deserved my best.
Once again, thank you so much for reading A Place Where the Chrysanthemums Bloom. It's more precious to me than anything else in the world, so I hope it will be worthwhile. I love this story and these characters more than my life, so I can at least guarantee that a lot of time and thought has been put into this. As noted in the disclaimer, A Place Where the Chrysanthemums Bloom will eventually delve into mature topics. I didn't intend for it to be so dark, but even in its saddest moments I wanted readers to know that this story is ultimately a personal one about hope. And just like what BNHA did for me, I hope A Place Where the Chrysanthemums Bloom gives everyone moments of solace, joy, and reflection.
If one year is all that we have left, then let's go out with a bang!
-Yurari
P.S: Apologies for this very odd, very long first chapter. The first section is also extremely descriptive and impersonal which can be awkward to read as I do not reveal the protagonists' name within the chapter until she counts down to ten. It was a stylistic choice—I'm not sure if I managed to pull it off successfully.
Chapter 1: A Hero's Death
You can become a hero.
Fifteen (April) - Sunflowers
Rumours speculated that Vincent Van Gogh's Sunflowers were famous because they featured every shade of yellow in the world.
Of course, she knew that having access to every yellow was an impossible feat for a maddened artist in the nineteenth century who had no access to colour palettes or hex codes. That's probably why they called it a rumour.
But her eyes weren't a lie, nor all its shades of blue a rumour. Darker than the darkest of night skies, contrasting the softest baby-blues like that of fluffy clouds on a clear, sunny day, and every shade in-between. The most expensive lapis-lazuli blue. Birthday balloon blue. Robin egg blue. All contained in the eyes of a thin, pale girl, who was staring at the swift hands of the old man before her. A portrait-sized canvas rested comfortably on the creaking easel, dried paint and pencil lead showing its age and wear.
"I should be able to finish this today," he grunted, an unlit cigarette jammed between yellowed teeth and round, silver glasses that barely hung from the ends of his bulbous nose.
She didn't reply, her eyes flickering towards the calloused hands that gripped the pastels and coloured pencils tightly. The sound of his rough and confident sketching filled the room, and he looked up periodically at the dark-haired girl.
Across from him was the young student, pale and terrifyingly thin but the cheeky smile stretched across her lips was confident. Her eyes seemed to glimmer when they caught the reflection of the bright lighting of the studio and behind the endless blue was a quiet mirth. Her straight back and crossed legs made her look taller than she was, the smile practiced but not strained. The posture would be reminiscent of military personnel taking an official portrait—professional and regal—if it wasn't for a brown loafer that hung precariously from the end of her toes.
Her heart quietly pitter-pattered with anticipation, body swaying this way and that at the thought of finally seeing the drawing she painstakingly modelled close to a week for. An image of her that wasn't her own reflection for the first time. Her, in someone else's eyes.
She broke her pose. Pale, slender fingers reached for the thin strap of red ribbon around her collar, adjusting it so that it would be straight and even. It was the result of a last-minute (and admittedly poor) decision. She'd always been the rebellious type, prone to sticking out and all, but when she'd tied it around her neck like the punk rock singer she'd seen online in a video, her boyfriend had unhelpfully commented that it looked more like a noose and she'd resorted to tying it like a normal ribbon with a bit of a huff.
Probably better for the purposes of the drawing, anyways, she thought cryptically. A noose would've been funny, though.
Fourteen rings, all different shapes and sizes but lavishly gold and decorating every finger, tinkled quietly at the movement. She combed a loose strand of hair back, revealing golden chrysanthemum earrings that seemed too regal for her otherwise delinquent attitude.
Once she'd finished tidying her appearance, she remained still again. "Take your time," the girl finally said, a lopsided, lazy, good-for-nothing grin that was all trouble and no business. "Draw me real nice, okay? I only came here because everyone said that you were the best."
From the opposite of where she sat, films of black and white photographs hung loosely across the window, the years of harsh sunlight fading the smiling inhabitants to barely recognizable blotches of eyes and grinning smiles. The studio smelled old and familiar—musty but cozy—and every time someone took a step, the wooden floorboards creaked tiredly. Cobwebs dusted every corner of the room and messy, partially finished canvases were scattered here and there, most of them shoved haphazardly towards one side of the wall. It was vastly different from the pristine, luxurious interiors of the home she grew up in, but she felt comfortably at home. There was a pang in her heart when she watched the filtered sunlight through the blinds, the deepest depths of her memories threatening to bubble towards the surface.
She forced them down.
When she looked up, the sound of pastel on canvas slowed and the artist took a thoughtful glance at the portrait, then at her face, then back to the canvas again. The strokes were becoming much smaller and more careful. He let out a quiet hum of approval and gave it one final glimpse before twisting the finished piece around, and she let out a delighted gasp.
From the back of the studio, a willowy man with wisps of greying hair and kind, grey irises appeared with two mugs in his hands. He smiled warmly at them. "His art isn't much, is it, miss?" He teased, looking at his partner with loving eyes and settling a cup down. "You're a beautiful little miss. Shame you had to ask such old hands for a self-portrait. I could've just taken a photograph of you."
The young girl let out an airy breath of laughter, and it seemed to bring warmth to the cozy studio. She shook her head, dark hair waving wildly at the movement. "Oh, that's just due to personal reasons." Her gaze snapped back to the portrait and she couldn't help but let her lips curl with content. "It's beautiful."
"Do you like it?"
Her mischievous smile turned soft, just barely noticeable when she carefully gazed at the reflection of herself staring back. It was all there, and so much more. Her pale skin, onyx hair just a shade lighter than black, fringes pulled back to a small bun near the top of her head, golden chrysanthemum earrings, and her dumb not-noose-but-a-ribbon that was tucked underneath her shirt's collar. She liked how her new school uniform fit her. It made her feel young. Normal. Like she belonged.
But best of all, he hadn't missed the small amount of pale lilac that was just beginning to appear under the softest of cerulean in her eyes.
"Oh yes," she breathed, both irises twinkling like stars under a darkened sky. "I love it."
Diamond-grey irises watched her look of content and he leaned back into the wooden chair, finally relaxing after confirming that his mission was successfully completed. He reached for a bulky cigar on the wooden table and lit it with a match, letting out a long, satisfied drag.
"Tried my best. It was hard getting the colour of your eyes though, let me tell ya' that. Hard to come across something so blue."
But she knew the second she'd seen the finished piece. After all, only artists with an unmatched eye for detail and decades of not just drawing—but looking—that could capture everything she wanted, especially her eyes. He'd successfully replicated all the shades of blue—like what Van Gogh's Sunflowers did for yellow—that even she could be satisfied with the finished piece.
"What's it for?" The photographer asked, glancing over her shoulder before nodding in approval, a proud look on his face. "It's not half bad! But rare for such a young 'un to come and ask for a drawn portrait. Most kids your age can't even sit still for ten minutes, much less multiple hours for consecutive days."
She adjusted herself comfortably on the creaking stool and uncrossed her legs, the man's words barely registering in her head. Her fingers were gripping the canvas tightly, as if it was a lifeline in her hands. She'd seen reflections of herself before, of course, but there was something about drawn portraits. A reflection of herself from someone else's eyes, and she liked what she saw.
"It's an iei," she casually shrugged, expression unfaltering even as the two men's eyes widened with disbelief. Her heart beat steadily. "A memorial portrait."
They quieted as they took the moment to digest her words. They looked at each other cautiously, then at the girl. The photographer's back straightened slowly and he saw a flicker of something else in her cobalt eyes, gaze piercing, determined, but not without a hint of cruel malice. It didn't suit the easygoing words that tumbled out of her mouth.
"Like… the picture that's used at a funeral after someone dies?"
"Yep," came the nonchalant reply. "I'm dying soon, so I needed someone to draw me, but I didn't trust anyone to get my eyes right. I'm not allowed to be photographed, but I figured it'd be a lame funeral if I couldn't have anything, you know?"
The men stared at each other again. No bitterness or sarcasm laced her words, just a straightforward acceptance as if it were a common topic for the girl. The carefree smile on her lips made it sound like she was talking about something trivial like the weather, or how sweet she enjoyed her tea.
"This is great though!" She nodded in approval with a million-dollar smile. She held the canvas high up above her head. "I thought about not even having a funeral, but I guess this will do if I make friends at my new high school. That is, of course, assuming they like me enough to come."
The artist who drew her blinked slowly, pencil slipping from his grasps and clattering to the floor. She looked up and her breath hitched at his diamond-grey eyes, wise in their years and a soft, kind gaze behind them.
"Well," he said quietly, voice a low rumble that reverberated through her bones. "It saddens me to know that there will be such an early departure."
She counted the seconds pass by through the steady pulses of her heart, matching the beat of a dilapidated clock that hung high up on the wall next to her. A glass cuckoo bird solemnly guarded the antique at the top, part of its wing cracked and caved inwards. Its beady eyes stared. Her heart was determined and healthy for now, though it was clear from the symptoms of increasing fatigue and wheezing that it would be ceasing soon. She couldn't feel too sad about it, especially knowing that the beats were never hers to have in the first place.
She broke her gaze first and a quiet chuckle escaped her lips, the sound twinkling so innocently, it made her seem younger than fifteen.
Perhaps like Van Gogh, she would also become deranged before she a chance to truly see all the shades of blue.
"Don't be." The hushed voice filled the space like a cacophonous gong, and the reflection in her eyes glimmered with conviction. "Because I'll be the one to choose how I die."
She idly wished her future friends would bring her sunflowers—not chrysanthemums—for her funeral.
Fifteen (February) - The Chrysanthemum
Ashy clouds wafted ominously.
Large plumes of billowing smoke tainted the starry nights of her home, a massive, private island in the easternmost coasts of France. What would have typically been a stunning, pitch-black sky with thousands of stars rippling across the expansive horizon was now engulfed by a putrid grey, as if someone had spread a charcoal blanket across the sky.
Her limbs ached. Vision blurred. Thin legs and bare feet burned, first from the fire, and now from the frostbite. She pumped her arms furiously at her sides, running as fast as her legs could take her to the edge of the peninsula.
Gentle streaks of moonlight poked through from the sky, lighting up patches of the white, frost-tipped grass that glinted eerily from France's freezing temperatures in mid-February. And high above the horizon was the brightest full moon she'd ever seen, illuminating the miles and miles of ice that connected her home to mainland France, her last chance to escape and the only birthday present that she'd managed to properly receive.
Kohaku-san's final sacrifice.
The ground crunched underneath her, sharp shards of grass prickling and making her feet ache, but it wasn't comparable to the weighty stone in her heart now. Some twenty or thirty metres from her, her eyes locked onto a house-sized, single-floored building. It looked like a small church, or a quaint seaside shop, the only building that remained standing on the otherwise blazing island.
Even in the dead of night though, the stained glass windows seemed to glimmer a bit eerily, faintly illuminated by the moonlight. The black haired, blue-eyed woman portrayed in the centre of the ornate glass seemed to stare down at her punishingly, as if the young girl was to receive her final sentencing tonight. It wouldn't be far off.
A gunshot rang in the distance and she jerked, a startled gasp stuck in her throat. The wind whipped past, blowing her hair messily around and briefly blinding her. She glanced at the empty hall, the woman in the glass, and bit her lower lip before making a hard left and skidding down concrete stairs to the frozen shoreline.
Every step the girl took, a splash of gold hit the expanse of ice and made them sparkle under the evening's light. She pumped her arms furiously and forced herself to focus hard, blood kicking into overdrive like fire through her veins and all she could feel for a second was warmth.
"You have to survive. It's not your fault."
The girl had to force herself to shelve the images lingering in her head. Crimson blood that seeped out of the bodies she'd left behind, still warm, but knowing she couldn't save any of them. She wanted to laugh, or scream, or maybe there wasn't a difference between the two. What was the point of her Quirk—her gifted, heroic, frankly blessed Quirk—if she couldn't use it when others needed it the most?
Before her, the Tyrrhenian Sea was completely frozen over in a quiet eternity that seemed to wait for her arrival and also signified her last chances of survival. The only thing to do once she reached the mainland—hopefully France but no matter if it was Italy or Spain or literally anywhere else in the world—was to find a hero. A true hero that would finally be able to hold her hand and tell her what she'd longed to hear the most.
But heroes only exist in fairy tales.
She couldn't even let out a yelp as her throbbing feet skid across the icy landscape and she unceremoniously fell onto the frozen sea. Her head smacked against the hardened ice, ears ringing and vision distorting for a moment. Her silk slip dress, soft and pristine mere hours ago, was now caked with sweat and blood, and hung to her body like a wet towel. A shiver ran through her body, small wisps of mist escaping trembling lips like dim candlelight and her vision began to waver along with her hope.
Kohaku-san's gift in exchange for her life, and she'd wasted it without even reaching the first mile.
She emotionlessly forced her body off the ground with what little strength she could muster with her feeble arms, shaking her head as if it would suddenly make her wake up from the dreamlike state she was in. She heard the sound of ice crunching underneath heavy boots and looked up slowly, six cloaked figures surrounding her, the serpent ring on their fingers glinting under the bright gleam of the moon. Airy, frigid air escaped in mists from everyone's lips but her own, her lungs too cold and too frosted, each breath more laboured and icier than the one before.
The figure at the front pulled her hood down, and the girl stared at her eyes, a rich blue clashing against an ancient gold.
"At the apex of our reign, you took something you did not own and disappeared," the figure murmured, eyes stony. "And we have finally found you, fifteen years later."
The indigo-eyed girl spat roughly, glob of shimmering yellow staining the pristine ice. An aching anger seemed to bubble from the pits of her stomach, her mind racing to find the right words but seething contempt spilling out instead.
"Well, you guys sure took your time. I guess you it's true you guys aren't all that, huh?"
"You couldn't have left just one person for me?" was the question she wanted to ask. "Haven't I lost enough people that I love already?"
But wisely, she held her tongue. She couldn't ask that, not when she knew the reason for their sudden appearance.
Gold streaked her dark hair, knotting them into clumps, shimmering softly at every small movement from the moonlight. The cloaked woman in front of her looked like an artist—red and gold and blue splatters covering her pale skin and dark cloak. The five behind her were stained similarly but they remained silent, and the girl desperately wished she could turn back time and return to even just a few hours ago when everyone was celebrating her fifteenth birthday, full of joy and laughter and a tender reminder that maybe she wasn't so alone.
"Even if you're angry," the girl started, tears welling in her eyes, "you shouldn't have joined hands with All for One. He's supposed to be our enemy, and our entire legacy was meant to help defeat—"
"Our legacy," the woman interrupted, golden eyes cold and almost lifeless, "ended when the chrysanthemums betrayed us. All for One's legacy gave us the ability to live. Yours left us to die."
Her lips pursed into a straight line and her throat was parched either from the smoke or the running or the crying or the guilt. She clawed at the ice underneath her fingertips, finding no traction and knowing that the woman wasn't wrong. It wasn't her fault, everyone had told her, and she'd stupidly believed them. The price was hers to pay, yet everyone had laid their lives on the line instead.
What should've been the sound of crashing waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea was instead met by utter silence and the occasional, chilly blow. Her heart rang like a timpani in her ears, each beat progressing faster and faster as a set of cruel, aureate eyes stared down at her.
Until it finally stopped.
A small, bitter smile escaped from her chapped lips. She'd known from the very start that everything had been futile.
After all—hadn't she been the first to give up?
There was an axiom she'd always believed in. Not as much as the nagging belief that she was alone, and she'd always be alone.
We always wish for what we cannot have.
Fourteen - There is No Bad Blood Between Us
SMACK!
The girl crumpled lifelessly to the floor as Gunther raised his foot again, fiery cobalt eyes flashing with anger as he struck her down.
"You… YOU!"
"Stop!" A woman with soft hazel hair and amber eyes threw herself forwards, gripping his arms and trying to pull him back. The blonde man swiped it away, hand shaking as he pointed at her with seething anger and discontent. Her pale blue eyes flickered to meet his and she breathed softly, attempting to ease the shooting pain down her spine.
"Don't get in my way, Hanako. This… this brat doesn't understand how many people sacrificed—" he spat, swinging his leg back and kicking her ribs as she lay motionless on the ground. "What the fuck—do you not have—what more do you want?!"
Dark hair partially shielded her face and she flicked her tongue across her split lips, sensing the metallic taste of blood. She raised a thin arm feebly and wiped the rest away with the back of her hand.
Wordlessly, she pushed herself up to her knees and reached for the lighter and cigarettes that laid haphazardly on the marble tiles, as well as the bloody earring that she realized was ripped out from her lobes. She quickly collected them and touched her ears to make sure that the skin had healed.
Good, she thought, feeling the smooth expanse of skin. She'd just pierce them again later.
"You think drinking and smoking and getting piercings makes you an adult?" Gunther cried, anger blistering and etched deep into his throat. "You're only a child, you brat—a child!"
And this is how you treat a child? She wanted to ask, rolling an unlit cigarette between her two fingers,
The man swung his foot again and it collided with her stomach, sending her flying across the room with a thin trail of gold marking the white floor tiles.
"How dare you?! How dare you, after everything we—"
"What the hell is going on?"
A new voice echoed from the entrance of the study. The girl lifted her head up slowly, indigo irises meeting the sweaty form of a man who looked almost identical to her—soft, slightly curly dark hair, and crystal-blue eyes contrasting a handsome, pale face. His vision snapped towards her split lips and bruised eye in shock, an expensive backpack and formal jacket hanging loosely from his arms. Both of them hit the ground with a thud and he paced to her side immediately, cradling her face in his arms.
"Hey," he whispered, the tears immediately welling. "I'm so, so sorry I'm late."
Gunther loosened his tie and he marched over to the shattered girl with a golf club he fished out from the corner of the room. "Move out of the way, Kaiser."
He pulled her face towards his chest slightly. "Stop, please! You've hurt her enough, haven't you?"
"I said move!"
Her eyes flickered open quietly, watching the blurry outlines of Kaiser's tear-ridden cheeks, Gunthers face, scrunched with pain and fury, and Hanako's screams of help as she desperately tried to hold Gunther back.
The last thing she saw was an ominous glint reflecting off the club as he struck it down.
Thirteen - Beggars Would Ride
"You're so slow, Kaiser!"
A young man with wavy, onyx-black hair and bright blue eyes stumbled as he reached out an outstretched hand. "Hey, don't leave without me!"
The younger girl paused in front of her older brother, a lengthy sigh escaping her lips. Kaiser teetered in front of her, sweating behind large, black glasses as he gripped the paper bags tightly in his arms. "We'll be late to the party if you keep dawdling!"
Kaiser readjusted his round glasses with the back of his hand and gave his sister an apologetic smile. "Sorry—I'll be right there. You sure love parties though, don't you?"
"Of course," she grumbled, puffing up her cheeks slightly. "Unlike you, I'm not allowed to leave the island. It's my only chance to actually see other people, and I'm finally a teenager now!"
A small, apologetic smile curled up from the ends of his lips. "I'm sorry."
"You always say that, but it's not your fault," the girl huffed, tugging on his sleeves. "C'mon—you have to spend time getting ready if you're going to confess to Kohaku-san today!"
"Eh?" Kaiser cried, running in front of his sister to block her path. "H-how did you know?"
The black-haired girl sighed and rolled her eyes heavenwards, shaking her head. "Kaiser. You've always attended my birthday party in your usual black suit with your usual nice shoes and your usual nice glasses. So when you started to ask me about which tux to wear, how to put in contacts, and if girls liked your hair up or down, of course I can put two and two together! Surely you're not doing that to impress me, and by process of elimination, I can only assume that it's for Kohaku-san."
His shoulders drooped in defeat. "I can't hide anything from you, can I?"
"You can't hide anything from anyone," she grinned, linking her arm with his. "But that's a good thing! You wear your heart on your sleeve, and I'm sure she likes that about you too."
"You think so?" He asked, azure eyes sparkling and hopeful. The younger girl nodded reassuringly next to him. "Of course! I bet she would've confessed first, but I think she was being considerate, making sure you were comfortable and not rushing."
"If you're the one saying that, it must be true," he sighed, slapping his forehead.
"So?" The girl asked, a teasing smile on her lips as two butlers opened the white, double doors that led to the west-wing kitchen. "What do you like about Kaguya-san?"
Azure eyes looked up at the fluffy white clouds as they stepped into the manor. "She's kindhearted."
She snorted. "That's a compliment, coming from you."
"No, but really," Kaiser smiled. "She's so strong and amazing, and there's so much I can learn from her. Especially for someone as selfish as me…"
"Kaiser," his sister said sternly, pausing her steps. "Stop saying you're selfish. You're not."
He patted her hair slowly. "Thanks. If you're the one saying that, it must be true."
"You treat me like I'm some sort of a fortune teller," she mumbled, swatting his hand away. "I'm not always right, you know. I just happen to spend a lot of time observing people."
"I do that too!"
"You're looking for the best ways to please others," she sighed, giving him a pathetic look. "Honestly, I can't believe we're related…"
Pale hands immediately went to work, pulling out the fresh vegetables and fruits that they had picked from the northern gardens earlier. The stainless steel islands were almost filled with the fresh produce, and the two siblings sighed with relief, rotating their shoulders and working out the knots.
"What about you?" Kaiser asked as he swiftly walked over to the massive refrigerators. "What kind of a person would you like to date?"
Long, pale fingers froze for a moment at his question, surprised at what he'd just asked. "Like… my ideal type?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know," she quickly muttered, furrowing her brows as her hands went back to work. "I don't really know any guys around my age."
The two began to stack their groceries quickly, Kaiser working on packing the fridge with containers of fresh fruits and vegetables, while the young girl organized the non-perishables.
"Maybe someone like you," she whispered after a moment of silence. "Kind and empathetic. Strong."
Kaiser looked up from his bags. "I'm not that strong though. What about a hero?"
At his suggestion, her hands clenched tightly next to her sides and her knuckles turned white. She quickly turned on her heel to face Kaiser, and all he was met with was a rage behind those young, deep blue eyes.
"No," she said curtly, lips pursed into a straight line. "There's no such thing as heroes."
Twelve - The Hanafudas
"…It's not looking good, Kikuchi-san. I saw Prince Ren in Versailles, twice. Once, maybe a vacation. But twice in a month? There's definitely something going on."
The girl peeked behind the door, steadying her breath as much as she could. In the study stood her father, Gunther, blonde hair slightly disheveled and normally clear blue eyes slightly muddled and overcast. His arm was tightly bound to his chest with a thick, grey cast. Next to him stood Asahi Hideki, father of Kaiser's longtime crush, Asahi Kohaku, and the Kikuchi Empire's most trusted business partner.
"…and Princess Yaegaki?"
"No word of her. Honestly, Gunther," he said, surprising the girl with the lack of honourifics. "It's been twelve years since anyone's seen her. I personally think she's dead."
Gunther let out a deep hum, less in contemplation and more to fill the silence. "I suppose Kaiser should take a gap year from his studies. Your family should join us too."
"Gunther," the Asahi senior said urgently, placing a large hand over his shoulder. "Is she really worth this? It's not just her life that's in danger. It's everyone before her, and now us. Hanako-san, Kaiser, even All Might and your family's entire legacy—"
Her father gently pushed the hand away and sat down on a plush, emerald couch, clasping his hands together. "My answer will not change. It is still the same as it was twelve years ago."
"Look at yourself," Asahi Hideki hissed, gesturing to his cast. "You're not as young as you once were, Gunther. Even with that regenerative and defensive Quirk you two have, it won't be enough. If Crownbloom herself can injure you this much, then what do you think will happen once the others get here? You're lucky you were in Barcelona and not in Paris! Take her and meet the Oathkeeper. Beg for mercy and they may spare her life."
She'd always known Gunther to be cold, violent, and irrational. But underneath the bright rays of the sun and the specks of dust in the study, her father's wrinkles seemed to dissipate slightly, and all she could see was a quiet boy, not much older than Kaiser, blue eyes unfocused, broken, and unsure. As if the title of Emperor Gunther, business magnate and famed hero of both Japan and France was nothing but a facade.
He let out a quiet sigh and stood up, the harsh lines and cold, pale-blue irises returning. "I think I've heard quite enough. Please send an itinerary of what Kohaku needs to our head butler, and we'll make sure she gets sorted accordingly."
"Gunther!"
"If these are the cards that I have been dealt with," he said firmly, and Kana recognized his words from so long ago, "then so be it."
Eleven - Prayer
"Save me."
Ten - A Good Day to Die
"Just a few more, okay?" The nurse stroked her head while the girl's lifeless eyes traced the cord that connected her wrist to the blood bag on the plastic table—the sole furniture in what was less a room, and more a storage closet.
The three of them were shuffled silently into an empty room in the basement of Kakusei Hospital, a place that the girl had grown all too familiar with over the last month. The first time her father had told her they'd be going to Japan, a small part of her felt hopeful. Perhaps she could visit the famed hero school, U.A. Maybe Gunther would finally take her to U.S.J, apologize for the years of neglect and pain he inflicted on her with a quick, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. Let's live the rest of our lives together happily.
Instead, when two nurses walked in with empty IV bags, needles, and lines, she quickly accepted her fate and tried to console herself, that this was always the most likely reason, and this was always going to be her destiny, so shouldn't she be used to it by now?
The little girl nodded wordlessly, tiny shoulders sagging as she leaned back into the uncomfortable chair.
The door creaked open, and Gunther entered the room "How is it?"
The two nurses immediately stood up, bowing in surprise. "P-Papillon-san! I didn't know you were coming today—"
"Make sure she doesn't try running off again," he cut them off coldly, glaring at the nurses, then at the girl. "I'll take whatever you have for now."
He reached for the pile of IV packets that outnumbered the people and furniture in the room, and she watched almost with envy, heat bubbling in the pits of her stomach because she knew that those bags were warm. Warmer than her own body, as if the blood had taken the heat out of her too.
When he exited the room with a quiet click of the door closing behind him, the nurses immediately shuffled next to each other, eying the door and then the girl cautiously.
"Is she conscious?"
"I think she's been out for a while," the other nurse whispered back. "What strange blood, though. What do you suppose it does?"
"And to take it out in such a creepy room, too."
The nurse's eyes widened as she slapped her friend's arm in realization. "Do you think it has anything to do with All Might's admission last week?"
"You're right," she exclaimed, snapping a finger and pointing. "A toxic chainsaw user, huh? Pretty nasty stuff. Still, I'm surprised they were able to injure All Might so badly. I heard he's been moved around to different hospitals to shake off the press."
The first nurse nodded thoughtfully and cocked her head to the side, brows furrowed in wonder. "Rumour says he actually fought someone else though. But they're keeping it under wraps for some reason."
They peered at the tubes, watching her blood slowly fill a bag that rested next to her side. "I heard from the physicians that they call her blood 'Type Q' because it can't be classified with any of the other antigens. Maybe it heals toxins or something?"
"I didn't even know that the Papillons had a daughter," one of the nurses continued, reaching over to the little girl's arm and checking that the needle was still intact. It's usually just their son in their press, isn't it?"
The second nurses nodded enthusiastically, eyes in a dreamlike state. "Kikuchi Kaiser—he's grown up to be quite the looker, you know!"
"Better not let your boyfriend hear that! And he's a bit too young for you, isn't he?"
"Come on, four years is nothing!" The nurse snorted, crossing her arms. "He's twenty, so there's nothing wrong."
The door creaked open again, and the nurses immediately flushed red. The girl's gaze also turned towards the entrance with the barest strength she had left to muster, and her eyes snapped to the familiar outline of her older brother. Kaiser was in a soft black turtleneck and a long, deep-green coat. Devastated cerulean eyes analyzed the closet and his gaze fell towards the bag of blood being collected next to her.
"K-Kikuchi-san!" A nurse squeaked, forcing on a smile. "Did Papillon-san send you? This bag isn't read yet, I'm afraid."
He marched into the room, strides brimming with power and fury, but he quickly turned his attention to his younger sister, caressing her face as his brows scrunched tightly with anguish.
"I'm so, so sorry."
She allowed her eyes to flicker open, though her vision was mostly blurry. "K… Kaiser?"
"I'm here," he said quickly. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I… I didn't know."
He softly brushed her bangs away from her face and she forced on a small smile. Her heart felt heavy at his crestfallen face because it wasn't his fault either, and she shook her head. Kaiser's pale visage was streaked with large, hot tears and he gently massaged her hands, trying to ignore how utterly cold her fingers felt.
"Do you think this makes me a hero, Kaiser?"
"Yes. I'm sure it does."
One of the nurses tapped his shoulder cautiously. "Kikuchi-san?"
Kaiser gently released his hold and brushed away the rest of his tears with the back of his sleeve. He rose from the ground, shoulders taut and expression stormy as he stared at his sister.
After a few seconds had passed, he glared at the two nurses, reaching for their wrists. "Come with me."
"W-wait, Kikuchi-san?"
The door was slammed shut behind them and the young girl looked down at the plastic cord connecting her arm to the bag once more, watching the fluid—her blood—slowly empty out her life.
Her vision now blurred violently, collapsing into a mesh of dull colours in front of her. Every time she inhaled, black spots appeared before her eyes and her lungs ached with each breath laboured and heavier than the last. Slipping in and out of consciousness, between dreams and reality, only one thought lingered with the last of her strength.
It's peaceful, she thought, eyelids heavy. I wouldn't mind dying right now.
Ten - The Hero
"Thank you."
The girl had seen All Might multiple times throughout her childhood, but it always felt wrong to see the body in front of her. Tall, blonde, but without any of the muscles or strength she'd seen of him in advertisements and videos. He was an empty bag—just a shell of the man everyone knew him to be.
Except to her.
"You really saved me this time," he coughed, looking the frailest she'd ever seen him in her entire life. He was in hospital clothes, everything except for his eyes and mouth completely bandaged. "We used up everything, and I'm still like this."
"I could give you more, Uncle Might," the young girl offered quietly, tugging on the bandages around her arm to reveal soft, undamaged skin. "Just say it."
But even if there were no signs of injury, All Might felt a lump on the back of his throat as he realized that there must've been enough blood and bruises at one point if she'd bandaged her arm so extensively.
"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "You've done more than enough. Thank you."
Azure eyes betrayed nothing as she quickly bandaged up her arm and hid it behind her back. "Then, can you grant me a wish?"
All Might looked down at her little body curiously, hand still holding his IV pole tightly. "Of course—whatever you want. It's the least I can do."
The world stilled. Her body trembled trembled, and she urged her shaking body to finally spit out the words she'd longed to say.
In her head, all she could think about were those pale blue eyes, beating her over and over again, the needles poking her skin and the IV cord that seemed to bleed her out dry. She couldn't even count how many times she'd passed out as they took her blood, and how many times she'd woken up in a bed completely alone, no one to seek solace with or acknowledge her pain.
"Then save me," she whispered, gripping the front of her shirt. "Please save me, All Might."
"You!"
The little girl immediately froze as she heard her father's voice from the end of the hall. She turned miserably, watching his tall, well-built form marching over to them swiftly, anger lining his furrowed brows.
"Please," she begged, blue eyes welling with tears. Tiny hands enclasped a single, mighty fist. "Please, Uncle Might—"
All Might looked down at the little girl, then at Gunther's body advancing towards them.
"Gunther's a hero himself," All Might uttered softly, prying the small, innocent hands away from him. "And I cannot save what doesn't need to be saved."
He could almost feel the azure pupils shattering as he turned his body and walked away from her.
Ten - Because You Called Out My Name
Mossy-green tufts of hair stopped in front of the hospital, emerald eyes shining as he read the name out loud. "Kakusei General Hospital!"
He took an eager step forwards, smiling as he saw that the entrance was empty. There's no reporters here… maybe they haven't found All Might yet!
Just as he opened up his notebook—a lilac Campos that was almost completely filled after painstakingly analyzing his favourite heroes—a soft body crashed into him and sent him to the ground, along with his writing utensils.
"Ow," he grunted, wincing he rubbed a sore spot on his back. He shook his head then opened his eyes, wondering if he'd hurt someone. "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention!"
A young girl around his age with the palest skin he'd ever seen lay on top of him, breathing heavily. He flushed red as he scrambled to sit up, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"I-I-I'm so sorry!" He stammered, waving his hands with shock and embarrassment. "I should've watched where I was going!"
"Help me," she breathed, gripping the front of his shirt. Sweat lined her pale, innocent face. "Please help me."
"Oi, where'd the brat go?!"
The little boy looked up and turned his head towards the entrance where multiple doctors and nurses ran frantically inside of the hospital. In the centre of the chaos was a tall, well-built man in a long coat, yelling orders. He slowly took a step back and spun around, icy-blue irises clashing against a calming green. The boy fumbled frantically and shifted his stance so that his small frame could hide her tiny body and he prayed his shoulders were broad enough to shield her.
The blonde man looked at him with furrowed brows until a woman in a white lab coat pointed urgently towards a direction deeper into the hospital. He gave one last look towards their direction before turning his heels and following suit.
The leafy-haired boy let out a sign of relief. "He's gone now. I think you're safe."
His eyes fell back to the girl in front of him and the heat immediately came back to his cheeks as he realized the position they were in. She was curled up between his legs, cheeks pressed tightly against his chest and both of his arms wrapped around her. Several people passing by giggled and pointed towards their direction, whispering something about 'young love' and how cute they were.
He immediately leaped back like a startled cat and hid behind a bush, ears turning so hot he could almost feel the steam coming out from his head. "I-I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hold you like that."
The onyx-haired girl pushed herself off the ground slowly, sweat still lining her face. Without saying another word, she reached down to grab the pens and other writing utensils that had fallen to the ground when they bumped into each other, and he stumbled out from the bushes, fumbling to pick up his tools as fast as he could. "Y-you don't have to do this for me, it was my fault in the first place!"
Just after he picked up his last pen, they both reached for the light-purple notebook on the ground, fingers touching. The two children both looked up in surprise and he could feel himself flushing again for the umpteenth time that day.
After a moment of staring at him, the young girl let go of the notebook and straightened her back, looking away. "No—you saved me. Thank you."
He blinked in surprise at her words, not entirely registering what she'd just said.
I… saved her?
"I'll be on my way," she said quietly, stiffly walking away. "Goodbye now."
When she brushed past him, the boy gripped her arm, carefully hanging onto her as his hands felt the soft bandages underneath his fingertips.
"What's the matter?" He quietly asked, kind, viridian irises innocently looking at her crestfallen face. "Are you okay?"
"It's none of your business," she mumbled, quickly snatching her hand back. The warmth of his touch lingered on her arm. "I should go."
Instead, he quickly ran in front of her and stretched his arms out to stop her. "I-I know I'm probably meddling, but you're hurt. A hero would never just let a crying person leave."
"I'm not hurt," the girl said, quickly tugging the bandages off to reveal perfectly smooth, pale skin. "See?"
He stared at her arm with mild surprise, not expecting the unblemished skin. "Then why are you wrapped up—"
"Get back here immediately!"
The girl flinched hard as her father's thunderous voice echoed throughout the front entrance of the hospital, jolting the green-haired boy in the process as well. As Gunther paced towards her, cold, pale hands quickly reached for his, and he looked up at her desperate, pleading eyes.
"If you're a hero, then save me in the future," she asked earnestly. "I'll wait, no matter how long it takes."
"Hey! You shouldn't be out here!" Kaiser's voice cried out from the other side of the vast courtyard, where the boy finally realized the golden chrysanthemums surrounding them. Kaiser looked at his sister holding the green haired boy's hands in surprise, brows furrowing as he quickly ran towards them.
"W-what's your name?" He stammered, nervously eyeing the two adults that were closing in on them. "I'm Midoriya Izuku."
Her breathing grew laboured as Kaiser and Gunther were only steps away from them. After a brief moment of hesitation, she pursed her lips and gripped one of the pens that was still in his grasp, popping the lid off and snatching his hand. She made work with quick, nervous strokes and quickly scribbled out a set of four kanji on his palm, just as Gunther reached down to grab hers.
Midoriya quickly read the letters. "Ki... Kikuchi-san?" He asked.
Gunther's grip tightened around the girl's wrist, face a furious shade of red. "What the hell do you think you're doing, out in public?"
Hot tears streaked her cheeks as she desperately ignored her father. "I'll wait as long as I need to."
"Kaiser," Gunther barked as his son panted, finally reaching the two children. "Make sure you deal with him."
Just as he forcefully dragged his daughter back into the hospital, Midoriya looked at the small girl in awe, then glanced back at the kanji characters on his hand. Kaiser's eyes grew as big as saucers once he'd seen what his sister had written, and he lunged for the young boy.
And before Kaiser could silence him, she heard for the first time—her name from someone else's lips.
He took a deep breath, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Kana!"
Nine - The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas
There was a story Kana once heard as a child. Chubby, baby hands crawled over Kaiser's lap as her older brother held her tightly, reading aloud a short story he'd been assigned in school. A very sad story, he'd told her, holding back tears that welled in crystalline eyes behind large, round glasses. The girl reminds me of you, he'd said.
The first and only time he'd read it, Kana barely spoke any Japanese—much less French—so it was as meaningless to her as the words 'egg sandwich' or 'Gunther's in a bad mood.'
But as the years went by and she learned to read, the story was always tucked deep inside her memories.
Omelas.
THUD!
"Holy crap—Kana, are you okay?"
Kaiser quickly dropped his paperbacks next to an empty stool and materialized next to her, Kana spitting out a flurry of swear words that would've caused some arched brows and reprimanding had anyone else been with them.
"Ow. Sorry, ow," she muttered, hand tightly clutching the back of her head. "I slipped. The ladder rungs are too wide for me."
Kaiser let out an exasperated sigh, reaching down to pick Kana up from the dusty floors of their massive library, where hardcover books and paperbacks decorated the room from floor to twenty-feet ceilings. The walls had several sets of moveable iron stairs, which Kana was now glaring at in contempt with ocean-blue eyes.
"Maybe you should stay in your room," Kaiser said nervously, checking to make sure she was okay. "Your coordination's been pretty poor these days."
A small, wry smile appeared from the ends of her lips. "Ah… I suppose so."
"What were you looking for, anyway?"
Kana looked down at the thin paperback between her fingers, quickly dusting off its cheap jacket that was starting to fragment from old age. The cover stated The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas and Other Short Stories by Ursula K. Le Guin, with the sketch of a simple beach and a ferris wheel inviting her in.
"Omelas!" Kaiser smiled, taking the book from Kana's hands. "How nostalgic… I read this a long time ago in middle school. It's a really great piece of short fiction, you should try—"
He froze at his own words, pale face turning even whiter when he realized what he'd just said.
"Never mind," Kaiser quickly shook his head. "Why don't you pick out a different book, Kana?"
The library session that day had ended with a sullen Kaiser and a quiet Kana, who opted to pick out a nonfiction book about stars at her brother's insistence. It was getting harder to read these days, and she quickly learned that fiction made her incredibly sad, making her long for a world that she would never be able to live in.
Once the maids and butlers had gone to sleep and Kaiser finished tucking Kana in, the girl quickly tip-toed her way back into the empty library and pulled out the book again, sitting in front of the moonlight that shined through a long window in the corner of the room.
The story was a short one—only four pages in the edition that she had, but it didn't take long for the tears to start falling.
A utopia that relied on the misfortunes of a young child. The true heroes of the story were the ones who walked away, no longer ignorant to the fact that her misery was what powered their perfect world.
But the irony was not lost on Kana.
For a small moment as the tears rolled down soft, pale cheeks and the moonlight shining a casting glow over her fair skin, she wondered how the little girl felt. If she'd pleaded, begged, and screamed for help in the book, would the people have been more sympathetic? If the girl was real and so was the world of Omelas, could a hero have saved her instead of simply walking away?
She closed the book softly, tucking it back between two other worn covers that she knew were forgotten and would never be opened again.
After all, didn't have to read it again to know the answers to her questions.
Eight - Quirkless
"It evolved?"
Kana wiped her nose with the back of her hand, red streaking her pale skin. "That's what father said."
Kaiser sat next to her over the cliff, gentle hands helping her wipe the rest of her blood off her face with a cotton swab. "I've never heard of Quirks evolving."
At this, Kana gave him a strange look and raised a brow. "Really? But I thought… never mind." She shuffled slightly closer to him, wincing when the alcohol-dipped swab stung a particularly nasty cut on her cheek that still hadn't mended. "There's three different parts to my Quirk now."
He brandished a proud grin and patted her hair, but worry was etched deep into his blue eyes. "That's great. You'll be an amazing hero."
She shrugged her shoulders quickly, looking unperturbed and bored. "I actually don't think it's an evolution, to be honest. It's always been a health-related Quirk, and it's now just divided into three stages that makes it look like it evolved. I still don't really understand why though."
Kaiser nodded slowly, still looking impressed. "So if Quirks can evolve, what do you think yours would be like? Maybe some super-awesome healing?"
Kana grimaced immediately at the suggestion and shook her head. "Hopefully not that."
"Then what?"
At this, she cocked her head to the sky and looked upwards, thinking for a moment.
"I'd rather be Quirkless."
Seven - Memories and Prayers
"How's she with weapons so far?"
"Immaculate, sir. She is truly your blood."
Icy-cold blue eyes and light-blonde hair gazed down from his study at the top floor, solemnly tracking a little body that lay flat on the shooting grounds below. His seven-year-old daughter remained still, stomach pressed against the freshly-cut lawn. The entire island seemed to be silent as if even the sea was holding its breath and she clasped a small finger around the trigger of the massive rifle that was almost as big as her. One eye was squeezed shut as she tracked the target just over a kilometre away from where she laid.
The winds seem to still for a moment as her eyes widened ever so slightly.
BANG!
Everyone's attention turned to the target, where a hole the size of a small bean penetrated through dead in the centre of a circular target. Kana's eyes brightened as she glanced over at the butlers and maids and Kaiser behind her, and they nodded encouragingly with proud applause.
"She is truly gifted," his butler tried, trying to appease the murderous tint in Gunther's cold blue eyes. "Swords, guns, agility, accuracy—the young miss has it all. From all the weapons though, I believe she enjoys using swords the most. She's quite compatible with Memories and Prayer."
Wordlessly, Gunther peeled his cold gaze away from Kana, turning on his heels and leaving the balcony, hands clasped behind his back.
"Tell her if she is not perfect, I will kill her myself."
Six - Inheritors
"Gunther, you don't need to do this."
"Do not be arrogant, Yagi-san. I concur that Sasaki-kun is brilliant and I'm sure Melissa will grow up to assist David soon at the rate in which she's studying, but we would not have needed to exist if All for One was such an easy target."
"It's my duty. My master entrusted this power to me and—"
"Nana," Gunther snarled, hardened, icy eyes ablaze in furious contempt, "started this mess and died without finishing anything. Do not fall into the same steps as she did, Yagi-san."
"Gloria," All Might said warningly, and Gunther knew he'd finally crossed the line. But what was the point of them if everyone else seemed to have no qualms stepping over his?
All Might sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with an exasperated look on his face. "Crownbloom's been on a quiet rampage, you know. She's grown up strong. I'm not even sure if I can go up against her, much less that little girl you have."
"She's special," the emperor uttered through gritted teeth. "Use her, All Might. And maybe then you'll be able to keep up that facade."
All Might's hands were clenched tightly next to his side, and a heavy stone seemed to press down on his stomach, bubbling with regret, guilt, and something else that he had grown accustomed to ignoring.
Fear.
"There was no such thing as an 'All Might' in the first place. That is a lesson you Inheritors have taught us over, and over, and over again."
Five - Papillon
"She has a fever. It hasn't been breaking and it's already day four," a maid said nervously to Kaiser, holding a wet rag in her hands. "Sir Gunther refuses to take her to a hospital."
Kaiser bit his lower lip. "It'd be too risky to take her to a public facility. What happened, anyways?"
At his question, the helpers scattered around the room all suddenly looked away, worry and trouble striking their faces. Their head butler—Marcus—an aging man with white hair parted and combed neatly to one side and affectionately called 'Marc' by himself and Kana looked the most crestfallen. A man trusted by Gunther for his strict but kind nature, Kaiser realized for the first time that his tails were uncharacteristically wrinkled and the dark circles around his eyes were more pronounced, as if he hadn't slept in days.
"What happened?" Kaiser repeated.
Marcus turned around, facing the other maids and butlers. "Go back to work. I will brief Sir Kaiser of the situation."
Kaiser, at the mere age of fifteen, followed in the footsteps of his head butler into one of the most lavishly decorated reading rooms of their mansion. The red, velvet curtains were neatly tucked behind two monstera plants, tied into a bunch with thick, golden rope. Plush, emerald sofas faced each other atop the Spanish rugs his mother had apparently bought back when she and his father first met. Well-worn texts lined the massive ceilings on top of aged, oak shelves.
Marcus waited for Kaiser to sit down first, and though the boy usually insisted he and Kana be sat last—they were the youngest, after all—Kaiser quickly took a seat opposite to him, stomach churning at what was to come.
As Kaiser watched Marcus sit pour him tea, he couldn't help but notice a large scratch on the side of his arm, extending into the cuffs of his white dress shirt.
"Where'd you get that injury from?" Kaiser asked, brows furrowed. "Are you okay?"
"Kaiser."
The boy immediately stiffened, hair on the back his neck standing. No matter how much older the man was, he'd never referred to him without a title. Since Kaiser could remember Marcus had always addressed him as 'Sir' or 'Sir Kaiser.' "Y-yeah?"
"How have you been enjoying school?" He asked, settling one cup over a delicate saucer.
He blinked, not expecting the question. "Um, fine, I guess. Everyone's nice to me, and there's even a few Papillon fans in my grade. They don't know I'm their son though."
Kaiser raised his brow. "Is this something about my boarding school? Does father want me back home?"
Marcus's grey eyes—the ones Kana once called diamonds due to the sparking sheen behind those aged, glassy irises—looked so, incredibly sad. Gunther was strict and though Kaiser could tell that his father loved him very much, they'd grown distant after Kana's birth and even more so since last year, they'd moved to France. His decision to suddenly send Kaiser to a boarding school was also unexpected, especially since Gunther was extremely protective and concerned about their privacy. But Kaiser always obeyed Gunther because he knew behind those cold, crystalline eyes, was an ocean of sadness with an endless horizon.
"Sir Gunther hit Miss Kana."
Plonk.
The expensive china in his hands dropped softly onto the run underneath them, contents spilling and staining the lavish rug with a deep red—hibiscus tea.
"Hit?" He asked softly, the word so foreign in his mouth. "Like… during training?"
He gazed at him evenly, and Kaiser felt his blood run cold, the silver eyes giving him all the answers he needed.
"Why?" He asked so softly, hands trembling atop of his knees. "Why did he… I don't… I don't understand. She's so young."
Marcus gazed at him softly, and for a moment more than ever before, Kaiser felt closer to the older man—and it was at that moment he realized that his own father, Gunther, was slowly disappearing from his grasps. Gunther's change hadn't gone unnoticed to him since earlier this year, and more than ever did he feel like he was losing the man he once looked up to.
As fragile as butterflies were, and as frail as the name Papillon—butterfly in French—could sound to the unknowing ear, Kaiser knew that his father and mother were once indomitable heroes, known for their impenetrable defense and regeneration abilities.
The cracks were widening.
"I… don't know," Marcus sighed, combing his hair back and revealing the fresh scar—one that Kaiser realized was probably from protecting Kana. "Master… he just lost it. I don't even think she said anything."
Kaiser's hands balled into tight fists, eyes staring at Marcus with utter disbelief.
"Sir Gunther has changed since the incident five years ago. And with Lady Kana's Quirk becoming more apparent than ever, something's changed. Something about her power makes him aggravated, for reasons I do not fully understand. It must be important if he's keeping it from me."
Kaiser sat still, not knowing what else to say. "What… what about my mother? Did she say anything?"
Marcus was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second, head hung low. "Lady Hanako did not say anything, but I'm sure it was from the shock. I think… she still has some conflicting feelings towards Miss Kana."
Kaiser's pristine irises blazed brightly with fury and he quickly stood up, grabbing his coat and backpack from the emerald couch.
"I don't advise you to see her, Sir Kaiser," Marcus said gently. "Her injuries have healed, but her fever's been very, very bad. She was lucid for a little bit yesterday, but when I talked to her she just seemed very tired."
Marcus momentarily paused, glassy eyes holding Kaiser in his place. "She asked us not to bring you here, but I went against her orders because I thought you should know."
Kaiser went rigid at his confession. The punishment for going against a Kikuchi order could mean death. It was the price her father made everyone pay for living on the island—strict confidentiality, and all orders followed.
"Sir Kaiser," his butler said, standing up. "I have an unfortunate feeling that the roads will only get more turbulent from here."
Deep inside, he knew it to be true.
Four - Clipped
"I'm so sorry, Hanako—"
"They were my parents! They killed—they killed everyone, Gunther! First my mother, now my brother, my father, my friends—everyone!"
"Hanako—"
"Is her Quirk that important? More important than my entire family, my entire life?!"
"I wish she wasn't here."
At this, the amber-eyed woman froze, her disheveled hair tumbling down hunched shoulders and tear-ridden cheeks. Despite the aching hollowness of her heart, she couldn't help but freeze at her husband's confession.
"What?"
"It's my fault, Hanako. I couldn't protect them. I couldn't protect anyone because of Kana."
The revelation made her heart feel even guiltier, as if he'd exposed her most treacherous secret—that she'd secretly blamed Kana for their deaths, too.
But instead of confessing her true feelings, the woman stood up and took a step closer to her husband. The blonde-haired man stared at the marble tiles underneath them, fists clenched tightly next to his sides.
"Gunther," she breathed, the tears threatening to spill over soft caramel eyes. "Let's move to Papillon. My father designed that island for us, in case something like this happened. All for One is becoming too powerful, and I don't have confidence to protect Kaiser here."
She gathered up the man's hands—rough and scarred from years of training and fighting, desperately trying to safeguard his family from harm. Hanako knew just how kind her husband was inside, but he'd turned into shattered glass that continued to bleed on everyone around him.
"Do you resent her?"
Gunther paused at Hanako's question and looked up, understanding exactly what she'd meant.
A single teardrop rolled down his cheeks and he shook his head. "I wish she hated me more."
"She never did, and she never will."
A blessing and a curse, intertwining their lives into a knot that choked him until he couldn't breathe.
"Our wings have been clipped," Gunther said with a quiet finality. "So we must go."
Three - The Butterfly Effect
"I've arranged an island east of mainland France for your family. It's called Papillon, after your hero names."
Gunther looked up from the map laid out in front of him in shock, brows furrowed slightly. "But Sir, surely it'd be better to stay in California than any place in Europe—it'll take too long for All Might to help us if we move—"
"All Might will be too late whether you live in California or Papillon," came his father-in-law's curt reply. "Gunther, do you really trust All Might to protect you after what happened in New York?"
Next to him on the sofa, Hanako let out a choked sob, covering her mouth with her hands. Kaiser reached forwards for a tissue on the table and handed it to his mother, stroking her back softly.
"It's because of that deceitful flower that mother died in Manhattan," Hanako's brother seethed, pointing an accusatory finger at Kana while Kaiser bristled and leaped up from the couch.
"Don't talk about my sister that way!" He snarled, headbutting into his uncle and slamming him towards the ground. "She's just a baby and you guys are all blaming her for something she had no control over!"
His uncle kicked him off and lunged towards Kana, who stared at him blankly from the edge of the sofa. "She's a poisonous flower and it's killing us all, one by one! Gunther—if you truly care about Hanako and our family, then kill her! Who should your loyalty be towards—this treacherous murderer who's poisoning our entire legacy or the family that took you in and made you into the man who you are today?"
Everyone froze and stared at the blonde-haired man, who was so motionless, Kaiser thought he stopped breathing. Gunther lifted his head slowly as he was made of old, cracking stone, and stared at Kana impassively.
"A child born by sinners will always bear the weight of that sin," he whispered. "That is our curse."
"So you choose her over Hanako and Kaiser." The aforementioned boy looked up to his uncle fearfully, tears welling in his light-blue eyes. "You will regret this choice, Gunther."
"Would you be able to kill your own child?" Kaiser spat, blue eyes blazing in a rare show of genuine anger. "She's three. It's not her fault."
"She's—"
Gunther shook his head slowly as Hanako's sobs grew louder and louder, filling the empty void of the frigid room that they were in. "No, I will not regret this choice because I am not the one making it. I am taking the only option that I was ever given, even if that leads to a destiny where we die together. I never had any other choice in the first place."
Two - To You
"Maybe you'll come out in my dreams one day, and I will not cry."
One - As Breath Becomes Mist
"I hope we can meet again when the snow melts and breaths no longer become mist. When the flowers bloom again and time moves forward. A time where we can look forward to new beginnings instead of painful endings. The gift of a future to those who are born without a choice and die without a say."
Zero - A Hero's Death
"You can become a hero."
A Place Where the Chrysanthemums Bloom
I - A Hero's Death
"You can become a hero."
Kikuchi Kana jerked her head up at the phrase, attention returning to the tightly packed meeting lounge. A long, brown desk that stretched across the room was filled, each seat hosting a hero—some she recognized, though most were unfamiliar. Diagonal from her at the head of the table, a large, white mouse—or small bear—looked at her pleasantly, holding a stack of papers in his paw-hands.
Kana was never one to be nervous or to shy away from confrontation, but even she couldn't help but be slightly awed. Every seat was occupied by adults, some in drab, one-piece jumpsuits and others in colourful, flashy, signature costumes that no doubt accentuated their idealism in heroics. It would've looked ridiculous had it not been for the fact that she was here, finally here, at the most prestigious hero school in the world.
Despite her concealed amazement, all that came out of her mouth was a dull, simple, "What?"
"Here," the mouse-bear said. "You can become a hero if you decide to study at U.A."
"Oh," Kana blinked, the words failing her. "Yeah."
The adults in the room looked at her uncomfortably, shuffling slightly in their seats and wondering how on earth such a bored-looking teen was accepted into U.A. Even the most aloof, cockiest first years held some sort of regard for the school, the complete opposite of the black-haired girl who seemed bored even with the face of All Might sitting directly across from her.
The wooden chair creaked slightly under her weight, and she gripped the soft fabric of her emerald skirt that felt just a smidge too short and couldn't possibly be appropriate, even if she wasn't one to be prudish. Next to her, an elderly woman in a white coat let out a small exhale, giving Kana a worried glance.
"And?" She asked, stacking the pile of papers in front of her. "What do you want to do with Kana?"
Next to All Might, a well-built man in a red bodysuit and white hair flipped through the contents of what seemed to be a thick stack of her profile. Kana felt mildly impressed at how much information they had—after all, her existence had presumably been kept a well-guarded secret.
Though not well-guarded enough, she thought cryptically, still eying the papers.
The fourteen rings around her hands clinked against each other as her fingers fidgeted around the hem of her skirt, ruining the hard work she'd put into ironing it the night before.
Nezu reached for a blue binder next to his seat, flipping it open to the first page and nodding at its contents. "Your grades are amazing, Kana!"
She jerked her head up in surprise and nodded in affirmation. "Thank you."
"Kana's already graduated from high school," Nezu said, holding the papers up. Some teachers nodded in approval while others had eyes widening with surprise. "She attained her baccalauréat not too long ago."
A woman in a tight body suit—holy crap I did not know Japan's dress code was this flexible—blinked a few seats down from her. "Baka-what?"
"A baccalauréat," Kana repeated. "It's the high school diploma in France."
"Yes," Nezu nodded in affirmation, "which would make it redundant for you to attend high school again. However, due to some… unusual circumstances and unusual requests, we'd like for you to continue your education at U.A. Do you know who we are?"
Even for a life as secluded as hers, it would've been impossible to escape the name. U.A High was one of the premier hero schools in the world, graduating the likes of All Might, Endeavour, Best Jeanist, and Edgeshot, some of Japan's biggest names, even having a large, global presence. Of course she knew the name. After all, it had also been Kaiser's dream.
Instead, she shrugged casually. "Japan's top hero school."
Nezu cocked his head slightly. "Is that all you know about it?"
"More or less."
The teachers were silent again before Midnight cleared her throat, awkwardly breaking the tension. "Well, you're not wrong. We train potential top heroes at this school. Each department teaches something different, but the hero class takes general and hero courses, taught by all of us here."
"So you want me to join the Department of Heroes," Kana said flatly. "And if I refuse?"
A man in a brown fedora with kind, dark irises and short black hair gave Kana small smile. Detective Tsukauchi—he had been one of the first people she'd talked to since arriving in Japan. "It's one of the most competitive programs in the country. Kids vie for this spot yearly, Kana. Some students work for this their entire lives, only to fall short. Very few students get in through recommendations, much less a recommendation directly from the U.A staff themselves. It's a valuable opportunity."
The girl let out a scoff, rolling her eyes. "What children want are not usually the same things that I want."
Diagonally from her, All Might finally spoke, but he avoided her gaze. "Heroics may seem like child's play to you, Kana, and perhaps I am the cause of that assumption. However, I think it would do you good to learn what this job is truly like, by being with peers who desperately want to save others."
Kana willed herself not to flinch. The straightforward words didn't bother her at all, but the thin, sickly frame and haggard eyes weighed heavily on her heart. He hadn't looked this bad the last time they'd seen each other…
"If you refuse, Detective Tsukauchi will take you to Headquarters where you will continue to be interrogated and monitored," Nezu said. "Once the Commission is satisfied with the interrogation, they'll likely put you into some sort of foster care or temporary home."
Kana raised a brow. "Why? I'm rich."
"You're still a minor."
She quietly lifted her head towards the voice. Directly across from her, a man dressed in all black with thick bandages wrapped around his neck and gave her a look that was impassive, but the eyes were firm and strict. Kana blinked, holding his gaze steadily with her own.
"And if I accept?" She quietly asked, vision unyielding.
Nezu nodded in affirmation. "I'm glad you asked. Recovery Girl-sensei?"
She finally broke eye contact, glancing over at the tiny nurse next to her. "Once upon a time, U.A had a medical department for students who had healing-related Quirks. It's been defunct for many years now, but we wanted to split your time—half in heroics and half in medicine."
"And what makes you think I want to be a doctor? Or even a hero?" Kana challenged.
"Kana."
All Might's voice spoke quietly to her and Kana fell silent again, staring at the large, oak desk in front of her. A childish part of her wished her Quirk gave her eyes with laser beams, so that she could break the desk, burn the room, and run away. "If you join, U.A will let you live at home with your boyfriend. We're also thinking of making a dormitory system here, where you'd be able to stay in the future months. You're an excellent candidate to be both a hero and a doctor, because your father trained you well."
Her fingers grasped tightly at her emerald skirt. Your father trained you well. "Only if I get to stay with my boyfriend."
Recovery Girl let out an audible sigh. "First years work towards the Provisional Hero License—"
Kana whipped her head, brows furrowed in anger. "I had an International Hero License before that stupid lady took it away—"
"—but we are well aware of your abilities. If you can get your National Hero License, the Commission has agreed to let you take the exam to get the International Hero License again. That license is less about strength, Kana. It's about trust."
At this, Kana's lips curled up into a sinister, yet slightly melancholic smirk, finally understanding. "And Japan doesn't trust me."
Kana hadn't considered the possibility that Japan's Hero Commission would be weary of her, but it made sense the more she thought about it. No matter how famed a hero her father had been, he had refused to serve Japan at the peak of his power—and a hero who wasn't part of the Japanese commission was no different than a dangerous villain. Unpredictable, secretive, and potentially devastating.
"You'd be the only fifteen-year-old in Japan with an International Hero License," Snipe said, organizing his stack of papers. "The only other person in recent history who got an IHL that young is Hawks—but he was born, raised, and trained here. You're not. It'll take some time to convince the geezers at the Commission."
Kana rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter, I had no interest in being a hero, anyways. What about the medical side of things?"
Recovery Girl pushed a stapled set of papers in front of her, the title written in bold font: Department of Heroics - Medical Studies.
"Most healing-type Quirk users who want to become doctors go through the General Education route into medical school to become doctors," Recovery Girl said. "But every once in a while, there is a healer who can also fight. Medical heroes are on the front line, fighting and protecting others from danger, while working as a healing battery to assist injured civilians and heroes."
"A jack-of-all-trades," Vlad nodded. "Well-balanced, important—"
"And rare," Aizawa finished, his impassive gaze resting on her again.
Nezu nodded at his staff, tucking the papers into a grey folder on the desk. "It'll be a tough path—hero exams and medical exams are paths only certain people can take. Are you up for the challenge, Kana?"
Steel blue irises slowly observed each teacher—hero—one-by-one. A million memories seem to swirl in her mind, some hers and others from a distant past. A million voices, a million demands, a million paths, and she had landed on the one she refused to walk on.
"We always wish for what we can't have."
And yet we always get what we don't want, came the morose thought that followed, the ends of her lips curving up ever so cryptically.
"There is no challenge," she spoke quietly, remembering the stacks of textbooks and sleepless nights. Her back prickled with heat. "There is nothing here that can scare me."
The rings on her fingers clinked as she crumpled her skirt again.
After a moment of awkward silence, the man in the red bodysuit let out a tired sigh, glancing up at Kana once more with fierce, hazel eyes. "Well, I suppose we should begin by choosing a class for her. Any suggestions, Principal Nezu?"
The white mouse-bear creature nodded thoughtfully, giving the girl a small smile. "I know you probably don't know us very well, but I'm open to suggestions too, Kana. The first year classes are full so you'd be joining them as an additional member, but most of your lessons will be privately taught by Recovery Girl-sensei, anyways, so it shouldn't matter too much. Class 1-A is taught by Aizawa-sensei, also known as Eraserhead. 1-B is taught by Kan-sensei, and he's known as Vlad King. Both are excellent heroes."
"Take some time to consider them," Midnight said, sticking a thumb towards the men. "Eraserhead's tough and surprisingly creative. You're gonna have to think fast if you want to survive his class. Vlad will make sure you come out the other side stronger, but that'll take a lot of effort and training. He's flashier than Eraser though, even if—"
"I'll go with Aizawa-sensei," Kana interrupted, surprising the teachers. Midnight glanced at the teacher, then at Kana. "Are you sure? Don't need to think about it more? It's not often a student gets to choose which class they want to be a part of."
Kana gave her an affirmative nod. "I'm sure."
Kan scowled, but his eyes held a sense of dejectedness behind them. "No need to cast me away so quickly."
Instead of uttering an apology, Kana simply raised her head slightly, catching Aizawa's dark eyes that once again gave her a passive, monotonous look. This time she averted her gaze quickly, fingers fidgeting with the fourteen rings. One finger lingered on a small, silver band with a synthetic diamond.
Nezu nodded thoughtfully, giving Kana a small smile. "That settles it then. Kikuchi Kana will be joining Aizawa Shota-sensei's 1-A. I trust that you will guide her well."
Aizawa's gaze was fixated on Kana. "Yes. I'll do my best."
Midnight stood up and reached for a thick stack of papers, roughly dividing them before passing it down to each teacher around the table. "I'm not sure how effective this will be considering they're kids, but…"
Kana looked over the shoulder of a teacher she didn't recognize. The top was simply titled: Non-Disclosure Agreement.
"An NDA?" Ectoplasm asked. "What's it for?"
Tsukauchi stood up, gripping the paper in his hands. "Kana's still undergoing questioning, but the Commission believes it is critical to keep her existence as a secret, especially considering how brutal and dangerous the villains seem to be."
Midnight looked up in surprise. "Okay, this seems like a terrible idea. Our students are constantly watched. What about the Sports Festival?"
Sports Festival? Kana wondered. She thought back to her older brother, Kaiser, and how his crystalline blue eyes sparkled with excitement every year as he sat in front of the television. Oh, right… the event that gets broadcasted to the world.
"Kana and I have already discussed the limitations. To be honest, it'll be tricky to balance between giving Kana a normal life versus a secluded one for her safety, and we're not sure what the ramifications of exposing her will be. But at the very least, until we know who her attackers are in greater detail, we'll do our best to not expose her too much," Tsukauchi said. "Thankfully, Kana's Quirk doesn't manifest anything unique appearance-wise, and given the few weeks of peace she's already had with little effort, her attackers may have given up or believe she's died."
Her back prickled again, and the ends of her hair stood. A pool of guilt settled heavily at the bottom of her stomach, because she had a good guess as to who her attackers were. They knew she was alive. High chance they didn't know about her enrolment in U.A, but she knew they wouldn't be satisfied until they saw her severed body, just like the remains of her parents.
All Might gave Kana a small, apologetic smile. "She'll need to sit out or be evaluated in a different way for broadcasted events like the Sports Festival. Tsukauchi-kun's unit is also monitoring the internet diligently to make sure there are no traces of information in regards to her name as we believe a leak in intel was what initially caused The Withering. This is for the safety of the Japanese civilians as well. The villains had no qualms in destroying her family. If they don't know she's in Japan, it's probably for the best."
The Withering. Operation Goldenflower. Operation Limerence. The titles that were used to describe her family's murder and the subsequent events that followed—both rescuing and keeping her under strict watch—tasted bitter in her mouth, for how unassuming the words were.
From the opposite side of Nezu, a large body wrapped around in thick, white, astronaut gear spoke up. "I'm all for Kana joining U.A, but if it's this dangerous to the point where we're signing NDAs and police are constantly searching the internet, wouldn't it be best if she was in a protected facility somewhere? Or maybe even a different country?"
Present Mic—she could recognize his voice from anywhere—finally spoke up, none of his usual jest or excitement present in his voice. "It was a will, I think."
"A will?"
"For Kana to attend U.A. I think I remember reading something about it."
Vlad shook his head in annoyance. "The more I listen, the more confused I get."
"Things will be revealed in due time," Nezu said wisely. "Right, Kana?"
Blue eyes made their ways to the principal. Is that a fact or a threat? "Guess so."
"Good. Well, please sign the NDAs and submit it to my office before the end of the day. Kana, follow Recovery Girl-sensei—she'll lead you to her clinic. Aizawa-kun, All Might—come to my office. We should talk."
The teachers quickly exited, and Kana watched the two instructors speaking quietly with the principal.
"Hey, Kana?"
The girl jerked to the side, where she saw a beautiful woman with deep indigo hair and friendly blue eyes. A loose handcuff on her wrist clinked quietly as she waved.
"M-Midnight-sensei," Kana stammered, slightly startled. The woman gave Kana a warm smile and rested a hand on her shoulder, the grip firm and yet warm. Her expression was infectious, and Kana felt something inside her thaw ever so slightly.
"Welcome to your hero academia!"
A Place Where the Chrysanthemums Bloom
I - A Hero's Death
Kana observed the cozy space, taking in all of the details at once. The room felt sterile, not a single speck of dust to be seen. Difficult medical books lined the shelves, and two computer stations sat next to each other across from the door. Next to it were three empty beds with plastic curtains separating them. Posters promoting healthy habits decorated the wall and medical equipment were neatly lined up against the wall.
"Make yourself comfortable," Recovery Girl propped herself up on a rotating chair, then twisted to face Kana. "When the other students take regular classes, you'll be here either studying or treating patients with me."
Kana nodded absentmindedly, crouching down to observe some of the medical textbooks. "Okay."
"We may get some patients today, so stay alert," she scolded, pointing a syringe-shaped cane in front of her nose. Kana raised a brow quizzically.
"Today? Here?" She echoed, hand pausing momentarily. "But it's Sunday."
Recovery Girl huffed, sitting down comfortably in front of her computer. "The first years are taking a Quirk Apprehension Test. Honestly, the administration is getting too Plus Ultra for my old tastes. They should at least get a proper opening ceremony, and yet the school works them like dogs from day one!"
Kana blinked curiously. "Is that a hero thing? Shouldn't I be there then?"
"That's true," the nurse nodded, "but Nezu gave me permission to excuse you if you wanted to spend the day organizing your belongings. However, if you want to meet your classmates, they're out on the field with Aizawa."
"I'll take Principal Nezu's offer then," Kana said easily, reaching down to grab a box with her initials on the ground. Her boyfriend had helped her order school supplies to the school, though the box looked much larger than what she'd expected. "I wanted to get settled in before all the lunatics went—what's it called, Plus Ultra?—and someone breaks a bone."
Kana reached for the top drawer of her desk and grabbed a knife, tearing into the tape and working it like a scalpel in her hands. She removed the items one-by-one—a set of thick textbooks for the term, masks, a spare set of runners…
She organized all the items along an empty, white bookshelf next to her own desk and computer. Azure irises traced along the mahogany table, its surface scratched and worn down, and she paused at a black cardboard box she didn't recognize.
"What's this?" Kana asked, lifting up the package. "It's pretty heavy."
"Ah, that?" said Recovery Girl, who had been watching her intently. "It's your uniform, as well a few other knick-knacks. Your teacher and I also included a few extra materials inside—feel free to open it."
Kana's lips curved upwards into a small smile as she opened the box, where she saw the green-grey jacket of U.A's uniform. A spare. "I'm guessing these are my gym clothes," she said, holding up a set of blue sportswear. "And… a white coat? That's nice."
"There's more."
Kana's eyes fell to a small, black pouch at the bottom with a zipper. She held it between her fingers gently and contemplated for a moment before opening it, where a black and silver stethoscope awaited her.
"It belonged to the student before you," Recovery Girl said softly, eyes still fixated on her computer screen. "You can have it. It's unused."
The tips of her fingers gently felt the soft rubber of the stethoscope and she smiled, holding it in her hands. "I'll take it. Thank you."
She quickly slung it around her neck and reached for the soft, white fabric of her new white coat. After shrugging it on and making sure that it fit (it was slightly too big), she gave Recovery Girl a satisfied grin. "Guess I look the part."
Her teacher let out an amused scoff before handing her a grey clipboard with thick papers, the top of which featured a blonde boy with amethyst eyes. "Don't get cocky, you. It'll only get harder from here on out. This is a list of all the students in 1-A and 1-B, your classmates-to-be. I won't force you to memorize it since you'll naturally learn as you spend time together, but it'll do you good to prepare for their strengths and weaknesses."
She held the papers gently in her hands, heart feeling divided, to say the least. Difficult was an understatement to how awful the last few months had been, but even she couldn't deny the excitement bubbling from the pits of her stomach at having real classmates for the first time in her life.
But if she had to give it a number, the guilt outweighed the happiness sixty to forty.
Almost every person in her family had dreamed of U.A, once upon a time. But somehow, it had been her, the most villainous, uninterested, and jaded of the bunch to join the famed hero school.
"First thing we'll learn today is patient confidentiality," Recovery Girl cleared her throat, tapping the end of the syringe cane towards her feet impatiently. "As your classmates become more and more exposed to the media, so will information about them. With the attention on U.A students especially, it'll be hard to keep them anonymous—a problem for you, I'm sure."
Kana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Couldn't have picked a worse school for me.
"Regardless, don't ever forget that your classmates are likely to be the ones to take care of the next generation. You are aiding heroes, Kana. And you'll be a hero too. Just as it is their duty to keep you hidden, you need to do the same for them as a doctor and as a classmate."
"Right," Kana nodded in agreement, azure eyes thoughtful as she flipped the sheets. "I suppose everyone will try to keep their Quirks hidden for as long as possible."
Recovery Girl let out a small sigh and stood up from her seat, leaning lightly onto her cane. "I'm not necessarily talking about Quirks, Kana. I'm talking about who your classmates are as people. Just like you have secrets about your origin that you wish to keep, individual people have their secrets and vices too. In that way, you're not that different from the other fifteen, sixteen-year-olds in your class. But not even I will know them as closely as you will. What you keep as a secret, what you will treat, and what you will expose will be based on the moral compass you'll develop as you spend time here."
Kana let out a snort, quickly flipping through the pages without bothering to read. She could tell from their dumb smiles and hopeful eyes that there was nothing to dig too deeply. These were coddled, dreaming children who no doubt equated heroics to All Might—a perfect, zero-loss legacy with infinite power and a smile that struck fear into the hearts of the most shadowy villains. They didn't know the real world like she did, with her military training and the abuse and the sacrifices that not even All Might could reveal to the world.
Recovery Girl sighed again and tapped her syringe gently at Kana's shins as if she could read her dramatic thoughts. "It'd do you good to make some friends and put in some effort. I've met you lot before. Serious, unyielding, and complicated."
Kana snorted, uncrossing her legs. "They're probably rolling in their graves right now."
"Anything that deals with human life is precious and difficult," she continued, slightly more gently. "And sometimes in that struggle, we do grow jaded and resentful. But this is why I work at a hero school with students, Kana. Sometimes, it's not that complicated, and kids show that the best."
She flipped the papers back to the first page. Aoyama Yuga. He had a stupid smile that seemed to literally sparkle off his profile. She wanted to dust it away. "I doubt that."
This time, she hit her shin, hard. "Keep that attitude in check, Kana. I've a few decades on you to know what I'm talking about, and I knew your entire family well. More than that principal."
Kana pressed her lips together and rubbed her smooth shin. No bruise. The skin was unbroken and perfect. "Were you the one who ratted me out, then?"
The syringe swung and Kana flinched, but she cautiously opened an eye to find her swinging it in front of her nose in fury. "No, you ungrateful brat! I just told you about patient confidentiality. And my knowledge wasn't relevant, anyways. I knew them as patients and people, not as heroes and villains as they seem to be so concerned about."
She let out a hefty sigh, retracting her cane. "I'm not saying your life hasn't been uncomplicated, and you have every right to feel conflicted. My point is that sometimes, complicated problems can simmer out by just one person reaching out their hand."
At this, Kana let out a bark of laughter. Rough, mean, and heavily laced with incredulousness. "Not even All Might reached out to rescue me, and you think some fifteen-year-old brat can?"
She knew she was being rude. Overstepping her boundaries. Etiquette was always part of her curriculum and one she used to listen to attentively, because it was easier to win people over—either for affection or for a kill—when you could lower yourself and give the false pretence of power for the other side. But this laughter came from somewhere deeper within her, a hatred that seeped deep through her bones in an aching loneliness like an empty vacuum; unsatiated, and hungry to devour more misery.
Recovery Girl sat back down in her chair and swivelled around, facing Kana and her stormy blue eyes.
What do you know?
"Kana," she said softly. "Why are you here? Because the Hero Commission will separate you and your boyfriend? Because you're afraid of joining another family?"
She quieted at the question. "It was the option that made the most sense."
Recovery Girl shook her head. "Not if you don't want to be a hero. This is a place where kids with dreams come. All Might knows that. Nezu knows that. That's why they brought you here, so that you might be able to find your own. Who knows, maybe you can become a hero too."
Kana raised her brow and lifted her head, giving her teacher a steely gaze, eyes narrowing.
"You can become a hero."
She fucking hated that phrase.
"U-um… excuse me?"
Two heads turned towards the door at the words, and the impasse left with it. A short, meek boy, with tufts of mossy-green hair and wide, nervous eyes gazed at them anxiously. Kana's nose twitched and something in the pits of her stomach stirred.
Chrysanthemums. He… he feels familiar.
"Oh my, you're that boy, aren't you?" Recovery Girl asked, hopping down from the chair and hobbling over. "What's wrong?"
He lifted up a hand and Kana raised a brow, staring at the purple and misshapen finger. "I got injured during the Quirk Apprehension Test and Aizawa-sensei told me to come and see you. But…"
His verdant gaze met hers and the two blinked in silence. Kana shook her head slightly—it was impossible that she knew any students here.
"S-sorry, I didn't know someone was here already."
Kana let out a small sigh, hands tucked in her lab coat and she took long strides towards him, raising a shoulder and glancing at it. "I'm training to be a doctor, see? I'm no patient."
"Wow," he breathed, giving her a warm, sunny grin. "That's so cool! I didn't know U.A had a medical program."
"We don't," Recover Girl said, waving a cane threateningly in front of her face. "It went defunct many years ago. Now, Kana—first lesson! If a patient walks in, you should greet them politely and seat them!"
"Yeah, yeah," she replied, rolling her eyes and twisting her heels. "You can sit on this bed."
The green haired boy nervously entered the clinic, glancing at Kana's discourteous eyes, stormy and bitter, and the boxes that were laid across the desks next to the bed. He climbed onto one, letting his legs hang off the side while Kana rolled her sleeves.
"Just your finger?"
"Y-yes."
Recovery Girl shuffled closer to Kana and gave her a wry smile. "You missed a step."
Kana sighed and looked at her pointedly, crossing her arms. "I greeted him, and I've seated him like you said."
"You should always introduce yourself."
She paused at this, contemplating her words for a moment. At her statement, she couldn't help but let the ends of her lips curl up a bit too. "That's hard for someone like me."
"A name is a wish," her teacher said wisely. "A symbol of who you are or who you want to be."
Someone who I am or who I want to be…
"I'm Kikuchi Kana," she said, after a moment of deliberation. "A first year student at U.A, in the department of heroics and medicine. And that's it."
Both Recovery Girl and the boy blinked, then they looked at each other.
"I-I'm Midoriya Izuku," he stammered, blushing slightly. "I'm in class 1-A, and I'm aiming to be the greatest hero. A-and that's it."
Kana couldn't help but let out another snort. "Really big words to say 'that's it,' no? Whatever. Call me Kana, Izukun. We're classmates, anyways."
"I-Izukun?" He sputtered. "Wait, classmates? You're in first year?"
Recovery Girl nodded. "I'm sure your teacher will explain in greater detail tomorrow, but she will join the rest of 1-A during hero-related activities, but I will be in charge of her standard education. It'll do you well to get on her good side—especially for someone like you."
"Someone like—" he stammered as Recovery Girl moved towards the door.
"And Kana," the nurse said, reaching for the handle. "It'll do you good to get along with your classmates. I trust you'll be able to treat him while I give something to Nezu?"
She gave her a mock salute. "I'm not a total fuck-up. I can handle this much."
Recovery Girl motioned her cane threateningly. "Watch your mouth or I'll tell him that etiquette needs to be a part of your curriculum, too!"
Kana smirked, amused at the interaction as the two watched the door shut with a small click. Once her teacher had left, Kana turned her attention back towards Midoriya, gently reaching for his hand.
It's warm.
"What on earth was going on for someone to break a finger like this on the first day?" She murmured, inspecting his long fingers and surprisingly sturdy hands. "Makes me almost glad I didn't go out."
She dropped it back onto his lap and gave him a grin. "Had a lot to unpack. Still not done, as you can see from the mess."
Midoriya's green eyes glimmered. "Your Quirk's something healing-related, right? U-unless you don't want to disclose it! You're the person we signed those NDAs for, right?"
"More or less." Kana went to the cabinet on the opposite side of Recovery Girl's desk and crouched down, opening the lowest drawer where she grabbed a hand towel and a small piece of rectangular glass, similar to the ones she used at home to look at organisms under a microscope. She slid it shut with her feet and reached towards the sink, quickly rinsing her hands with soap and water, before patting it dry.
"What's your Quirk, Izukun?" She asked, rolling a stool towards the bed and sitting on it.
"Oh! Um, well… it's um… a super strength Quirk," he stammered nervously, smiling. Kana raised a brow as she reached for the clipboard face-down next to Midoriya and flipped the pages until the image matched him.
Quirk: super-strength, Kana read, brows furrowed. Interesting. Like All Might? I don't think breaking fingers was a common injury he had…
She let out a soft huff and placed the sheets gently on the desk. "No matter. This can seem a bit gross, but just trust the process, okay?"
"Gross?"
She lifted her hands in front of his face where he saw for the first time, the fourteen rings that decorated her entire hand. Most were bands though he couldn't see the stones, but some of them had chains that linked to others. Her right ring finger caught his eyes especially, due to the full finger ring that covered the entire digit with golden butterflies and chrysanthemums.
Her two index fingers, on the other hand, both had bulky, silver rings. Never taking her eyes off his own, Kana popped the inside open, where a small, pointed end stuck out. Before he had a chance to react, she swiped the end of her thumb across the blade, splitting a shallow gash through the skin.
"Kikuchi-san!" He cried, alarmed. Kana hadn't flinched, instead bringing the glass tray up and smudging her blood onto the slide as if she was signing an oath with blood. Grassy irises widened when the glint of the florescent lights above them caught the glass, and the orangey-red blood shimmered.
"Lick it."
"P-pardon?"
Kana stuck out the slide closer to him. "Lick it."
"K-Kikuchi-san," he stammered, lifting his hands. "I—um,"
She let out an audible sigh, shoulders sagging. "It's my Quirk, okay? My blood heals. Digestion starts at the mouth so it works the fastest when you ingest it. If you're that squeamish, I can dilute it in water or inject it directly into you with a needle but some of my blood gets wasted that way. This ensures you get every last drop."
She shoved the blood-stained glass slide directly into his hands, careful not to get it on his skin. "And like I said, call me Kana. I don't go by my last name."
Midoriya was completely red, either from the prospect of talking to a girl so familiarly, having to lick said girl's blood, or feeling forced to call her by her given name.
Cautiously—and he was cautious because he wasn't sure what sort of psychopath quack doctor asked patients to drink their blood like some sort of reverse Dracula—he lifted the glass to his lips and gave it a careful lick.
As soon as his taste bloods even recognized the metallic, coppery scent of blood, he felt the blistering pain in his index finger lessen until it was simply a dull throb. The finger was still bright purple, but he could tell that broken bone was pieced back together.
"Wipe it clean," Kana said stoically, watching the boy grimace as she flicked the blade back into its place. "A drop of my blood can go for thousands of yen on the black market. It's why I rarely use needles and syringes, unless you want to lick those too."
The boy quietly obeyed, feeling for the first time that U.A may not have quite been what he expected, but this by far, was the weirdest interaction he'd ever had.
After monitoring him and his finger, Kana pushed herself away from him, rolling towards Recovery Girl's monitor. She rested her head on a hand, aimlessly clicking through a black-and-white document that listed common injuries for heroes-in-training.
"It must be nice," she murmured quietly, "to be able to get injured."
Midoriya looked up. "Kiku—Kana-san?"
"It's nothing," she sighed, standing back up and placing her hands into her pockets. "It still looks badly bruised… maybe even fractured. It was only a drop of my blood, and mending broken bones requires more than what's needed for a puncture or cut. Do you want another drop?"
Instead of answering, Midoriya leaped up and Kana could swear that his eyes were positively glowing from giddiness. "Kana-san, your blood—it's absolutely amazing!"
It's an amazing Quirk.
"So hero-like!" He said boldly, his prior nervousness nowhere to be seen. "Recovery Girl-sensei's Quirk requires the patient's stamina to be sufficient, but that can be detrimental because the amount of stamina is usually inversely proportional to the extent of the injury. But with Kiku—Kana-san's Quirk, it doesn't require anything—"
It doesn't require anything to use her blood.
"—so it'd be able to heal any hero, anywhere! It might be one of the most amazing Quirks I've ever seen!" He rambled, eyes enthusiastic and fists clenched as if it was the only way to contain his eagerness. "It's amazing, Kana-san! You could save the world!"
Why wouldn't you want to help others?
The freckled face faltered when he realized that Kana hadn't responded, face absolutely neutral as her vast blue eyes met his own. He realized for the first time that she was relatively tall—maybe not quite as tall as Yaoyorozu, but maybe just a smidge taller than him.
"Kana-san?" His gaze travelled downwards, and the tips of his ears changed to a soft pink. "S-sorry, I have a tendency to ramble a bit…"
She turned her head to the side and let out a small sigh. "You're an annoying one, aren't you?"
His body seemed to shrink. "I'm really sorry."
Kana sat back down into her chair and she crossed her legs, the pristine white Fila sneakers bouncing as she tapped her foot impatiently. "And you say you're going to be like Uncle Might. He's a shit role model."
Midoriya's eyes whipped up at her words, emerald irises flashing with a new, uncharacteristic anger. "T-that's not true! He's an amazing hero, and an amazing teacher."
"Listen," she snapped, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward slightly. "Heroes are shit. Look at me—I come from a family of heroes. My blood could cure everyone, but I choose not to because I'm selfish. At the end of the day, it's every man for himself."
"That's not true," he argued, standing up. "I get what you're trying to say—heroes often become celebrities, but there are selfless, heroic people out there. All Might is a great hero—the best hero."
Kana burst out laughing, an ugly, wretched sound—she seemed to be doing that a lot lately—and threw her head back.
"Izukun," she said softly, wiping her tears away. "If Uncle Might is considered to be the best hero, then there really isn't a lot of hope left for me, huh?"
She reached for his injured hand and grasped it softly, blue eyes gentle. "What is the point of being blessed with a good Quirk when I have nothing left?"
"Kana-san…"
"Nevermind," she said, giving him something close to a half-apologetic smile. "I rambled, too. I'll heal the rest of your finger up—pass me the film."
Midoriya slowly lowered his hand, shaking his head. "No, it's okay. I can ask Recovery Girl-sensei tomorrow—the pain isn't that bad, anyways."
"No point waiting when I can just do it now," Kana raised a brow, popping her blades out again. "But I guess no one really likes licking a stranger's blood."
He laughed nervously, raising his hands in front of him. "T-that's true. But I'm sure it hurts when you have to cut your skin like that."
"It hurts…"
"Silence. Your Quirk will heal you immediately, and your skin does not scar. You can sacrifice that much to save someone's life."
Kana blinked. "It's just the tip of my thumb. I'm used to it."
Midoriya chuckled nervously, scratching his head. "I guess you're more Plus Ultra than me, Kana-san. I can't say I've ever gotten used to any injury."
He pushed himself off from the bed and gave her a bright, sunny smile. "Thanks for healing me, Kana-san. I'll see you tomorrow."
Kana motionlessly watched the green-haired boy disappear behind the door and heard it click softly, before she was left in the clinic all alone, the rambling and nervous stammers gone and only her memories to occupy the silence.
Kana, who had never been shown what true empathy and compassion felt like, and subsequently unaware of its effects, stared at the palms of her hands, wondering why the first morsel of kindness she felt was from a boy her age who thought it would be too painful for her to cut the tips of her thumbs when every other adult she'd ever met didn't hesitate to bleed her dry for every last speck of blood.
A Place Where the Chrysanthemums Bloom
I - A Hero's Death
Kana skipped down the hall, letting one sneakered foot lead the other in an odd sort of carefreeness. The hands tucked deep into her lab coat's pockets gave her a strange mix of elated and perfectly neutral to anyone passing by, which was no one, since the first years had gone home quite some hours ago.
From the opposite side of the 1-A and 1-B classrooms was the teachers' lounge, and next to it, several empty office spaces. She peered over the narrow, rectangular windows into each room until she found tufts of messy, electric-yellow hair with bangs that jutted outwards quietly brewing tea, the bright glow of the setting sun lighting everything inside the room in a faint, orangey hue.
She slid the door open, startling All Might and he looked up, bright blue matching steely azure. He stared at her, expressionless as she entered, still skipping with hands tucked deep in her pockets.
"I can't save the people where my hands don't reach," Kana quoted, sauntering to a low shelf directly across the famed hero. She hoisted herself up and sat next two two potted flowers, white, fully-blossomed chrysanthemums that glinted red from the setting sun. "That's why I will always save those that I can reach."
The pro hero stared at the tiles underneath their feet in silence—the unfamiliar taste of guilt and shame crawling up his throat and threatening to expel out of him.
"Well?" Kana asked so quietly her voice was barely audible. "Was I at an unreachable place for you?"
Chapter 1 - A Hero's Death
A girl and a small dream. New faces and old friends. A will, a memory, and a family. A life to end before it even begins.
[Preview] Chapter 2 - Goldenflower
"Hold on—three different Quirks?"
"Just one. Twelve, if I'm being technical."
"What?"
Name: Kikuchi Kana (Kanji: ?)
Age: 15
Birthday: ?
Quirk: ?
Hero Name: ?
Height: ?
Likes: ?
Definitions:
Iei: a memorial portrait of the deceased that is used at funerals. I'm not sure if they're used here in the west, but in the Asian countries I've been to, they're usually put in a room where those who were close to the deceased can come and pay respect to.
Chrysanthemums: white chrysanthemums are memorial flowers that usually decorate the space around the iei, so Kana (both ironically and jokingly) wishes her future friends will bring her sunflowers, not mums for her funeral.
Author's Note:
Meet Kikuchi Kana.
Wow, I cannot believe this story finally got published! With almost 20k words, congratulations (and thank you) for making it this far! I hope it was well-worth your time. To those who gave this another read after the first, rough publication of chapter one, I thank you again for returning and I apologize for the long wait!
There are so many hints, so many big themes that is revealed in this chapter alone. I cannot wait to write the next chapters, and I really look forward to reading reviews with your guesses and theories!
While I've always intended for Kana to come out as brash and rude, chapter one was never meant to be this dark. I'm not sure if I even like this characterization of Kana, but I promise she's a fun, heroic, and amusing person—she just needs some time. A small part of me wanted to actually combine chapter 1 and 2 together because I only realized after I finished that she doesn't get to meet anyone in 1-A except for Midoriya.
I exposed tidbits of her fifteen years of life so there's obviously lots to talk about, none of which I could reasonably fit in an author's note. Regardless, I really hope this behemoth of a chapter was worth your time and I am, so, so thankful if you gave it a read. I hope to hear your thoughts and see you all next time!
-Yurarin
P.S - you can find me at a place that starts with Tum and ends with blr by typing in 'yurarinmochi'! I post character explanations and take asks there. A visual of Kana and Kaiser (via picrew) will also be there!