The bed is heavy. The sheets are tightly wrapped. Incense fills the quiet air. The door is slightly open. A figure stands on the other side. Mother, someone I recognize. Her expression would suggest a monstrous figure within peripheral vision, yet both eyes rest on me.
My breath is ragged, a fever has left me bedridden. My orbital bones ache, like if they suddenly weighed twice what they normally do. My ears burn, harder than what my temperature signals. My parents speak, I can hear them through the wall. My heart beats at alarming speeds. My head is killing me. Something is wrong, beyond the illness.
Future endeavors, daughter of this family, legacy, the company, prophecies, things I don't quite understand. Eardrums start ringing, my father's voice, sharp and without filter. Tears formed out of frustration and fear streamed down both cheeks. Shouting, one to the other, then complete silence. The main entrance slams close, the sound of muffled crying penetrates the wall. A chilling stare peers through the opening. Mother runs down the hall, weeps all the way down. For some reason I can still hear her. My eyelids close, never to open the same. The bed is heavy.
The same dream again, for the last few weeks. A reliving of that horrid night, replaying within the confines of my subconscious. Some torture this is, machinations of one's own psyche. Perhaps the coming changes have flared up these memories once more. Or perhaps a renewed closeness with him has affected me more than I'm willing to admit. Regardless, tomorrow holds a pivotal step towards my goal, it'll take more than some lurid dreams to steer me away. The cold seat where my head rests stops in tandem with the train at my dropoff station.
The way back home has grown increasingly difficult for the last few years. Whilst All for One was indeed a blight on society, his influence had kept this area prosperous, even through economic recessions. Now this spot holds one of the highest crime rates per square meter in the city and it just so happens that a great part of it pertains to my daily commute. Walking past people who are passed out on the street or shouting irreverent things becomes natural once you witness it enough. Although, I can't exactly tell if the streets are dark or lit up by the moonlight. I can only see people, dangerous or otherwise, walking or sleeping without consequence. Then, an uncommon occurrence, a guy who keeps shaking as he walks over with a rather dangerous looking blunt object in his left hand. He looks offended.
"What you looking at huh?!" Derelict places have this type of character, someone who thinks a simple look is an insult. His breath smells like a rotting corpse, in fact, his posture resembles a dead body. His heart rate puzzlingly remains at a steady pace. "You tryna get shanked bud….bitch… uh…You!" This happens often. People are unable to discern whether I'm a man or woman. Wouldn't put it past this idiot to tell otherwise.
"She's a woman, those legs don't belong to no man." Cornered, and this one seems to be more aware. Also smells like vomit and booze, a drunkard then. Noticed his gaze placed on my thighs as I walked by. Should've covered up my legs, keeps trouble of this nature away, a dumb mistake honestly. "You want some huh? A bit of action?" His hips gyrate in a circular motion. I'd rather rip off my toenails one by one than be caught dead with him. Teeth are a luxury that he shouldn't have.
"Girl's blind dumbass." The ringleader, older, more experienced, with a bit of a deep voice. Holds some tact within his words, and is annoyingly perceptive. "See how unfocused and foggy them eyes are?" A thin, curled finger points at my face. The nail is chipped, bitten off most likely. A condescending smile spreads across his face.
"Huh, alls I see is red and black." The guy with the knife gets closer, noticeably more confident after hearing his boss speak. "We hustlin' this one?" He looks around, seemingly watching for any who would interrupt.
"I say we take this one." The drunkard inches closer from behind. The stench of alcohol strengthens as his uncoordinated feet slide forward. His small eyes are laser focused on my lower half, disgusting. "This pretty little flower would be wasted out there in the mix." Judging by the way he spoke, this wasn't their first time kidnapping someone.
The ringleader's smirk grew wider, his crooked hands became apparent. The trio closed in, trying to take advantage of their numbers advantage. The inebriated one, being the closest, reached forward to grab my arm. He intended to pull me back as the other two grabbed onto my legs, a method to quickly subdue the target. Once I felt the slightest touch on my skin, two elbows in quick succession smacked against booze guy's chin. He stumbled backward, hitting the back of his head on a nearby wall then falling motionless to the ground. Heart still beating, more than what he deserves.
The other two looked visibly shaken, eyes widened as if they'd seen a supernatural being. After a moment, the corpse-like knife wielder lunged forward. He aimed for my right kidney, whether deliberately or not was up for debate, that calm demeanor from before had vanished. My hand grabbed his wrist and began twisting until the knife fell out. As soon as the metal clashed against the floor, I delivered a spinning hammer kick against the guy's temple. He instantly went limp as his face slumped onto the floor. The ringleader began backing away, scowling at his hurt underlings. His foot caught on a nearby trash bag, and he fell as a result. His heart was beating faster than the other's.
"Wait! Wait!" He pleaded. This was possibly the first time anybody had stood up to this arrangement, his contorting face said so. "I'm old, brittle! I have lumbago! A-a-arthritis!" I punched him once, square on his nose, something inside it broke. The scum lied there groaning, trying to rearrange whatever was wrong with it. Whichever bodily harm I engrained on these people, it would probably be insufficient to make up for the hurt they spread.
Let's roll things back a bit, I guess I owe you an explanation.
My name's Yuuki Ishikawa and I'm blind. Well, it's more like my body made me blind; let me explain. A random mutation once my power manifested, one that did not come from my heritage, took away my eyesight. In place of it, I gained the ability to detect corporeal movements and changes in other physical beings. Add on to that a heightened sense of hearing and my quirk, Hypersonic, is born. Whilst it's true that my eyes see nothing, I am able to sense where things are most of the time purely off of sound. Now that everything is cleared up, we can continue moving forwards. Oh right, almost forgot, I am a girl.
Following the debacle with the three amigos, I walked through the shady area until the stairs up to the dojo came into view. This place will always be breathtaking, like something taken out of a fairy tale. The woods blend onto the sides of the steps seamlessly, giving the feel that these stairs naturally sprouted from the ground. Almost looks like the bottom of a shrine. Things like this momentarily cease my disdain for the family name.
My workout watch chimed in as I started going upwards: '6:30 pm!'. The breeze is bone chilling, ominous even, like it's trying to push me away. The mind plays tricks once one is close to changing, that must be it. The main house appeared at the top of the stairs, a luxurious mansion that houses countless rooms, all for one greedy empire. The lights out on the porch were turned off around fifteen minutes earlier, they're done for the day then.
I circled around, like everyday, and arrived at the dojo's door. A remarkable step down from the main entrance, yet a place that looks infinitely more inviting. The shoji slid open, revealing the barren traditional space where everyone trained. The candles had some residue smoke still steaming off them. One of the floor tiles emitted the sound of a liquid sliding across it, blood. A part of the wooden structure in front of the bokken creaked, cracked by someone. The smell of sweat permeated the room, a long day then. I made my way to the sliding door behind the changing rooms, where the stairway to the second floor was located. I quickly made my way up, walking past the kitchen area until a sound stopped me in my tracks. A moving mustache faces my direction.
"You're late. Again." My grandfather stood there cross-armed. A wooden spoon inside his left hand and an apron around his neck. A small bodied man, his power coming from the countless years of training endured. His voice had that same stern tone he used on his students. "Where were you?" Straight to the point, like always. The smell of the rice porridge placed on the table beside him entered my nostrils.
"Weight training, near the mall." I understood how conspicuous that sounded, yet it was the best possible excuse at my disposal. The look on his eyes remained the same, his heart rate too, he's always been a tough nut to crack.
"You could have done that here!" Grandpa's eyes grew wide, he seems to be fed up with my recent escapades. "You're out there beating people up again! I saw your knuckles!" His tone went from suspicious to irate. I shouldn't have hit that old dude with my fist, shouldn't have lost my temper even.
I frowned and sat down at the table, grabbing the chopsticks placed next to the rice. I ate in silence, waiting for the lecture to come. Grandpa sighed, he placed the wooden spoon at the kitchen counter before sitting across from me. His expression shifted to concern, his normally droopy eyes slouched further. Like all other times, he was mad but his anger was somewhat different. His focus was elsewhere, his heart disagreed with the words directed at me.
"I know you're not a little girl anymore." He smiled, reminiscing about something. Melancholy, stress or actual happiness, those three are always easily confused, especially if you can't see pupils. Whatever he thought of brought Grandpa some miscellaneous relief. "You don't have to tell me anything Yuuki, I'm just worried about you. One step away from vigilantism, neglecting your training-"
"I'm already done with Jeet Kune Do." I interrupted, knowing full well where the conversation was heading. He's said this on multiple occasions, trying to hold me back. "And Capoeira, Jailhouse Rock, Judo, Sambo, Taidō, Grima-"
"Alright, enough, you've made your point." Grandpa's face remained soft, virtually pleading for me to understand his position. "With the exam tomorrow I just hoped you would remain still, at least for today." He stood up, walked over to the fridge and grabbed a can of grape soda. He set it down next to the bowl.
We sat there quietly as I finished the rest of the rice. Grandpa seemed like he wanted to say something, I could hear his throat perking up to speak then relaxing after a few seconds. Whichever topic made him this reluctant was probably better off not being discussed, regardless of the importance. Although, my grandfather operates differently, a paragon of honesty through and through.
"Your brother, he-" I slammed my fist on the table, startling him, a grimace spawning on my face. The wooden structure bent a bit, splitting in a crack under the hand. Grandpa's eyes narrowed as he prepared to continue. "We cannot pretend that he does not exist. He's a student there, you're bound to run into each other, interact. You have to be prepared for that possibility, regardless if it hurts to think about." Not once had we discussed this, why now? Why tonight, before one of the most important days of my life?
I simply stood up and began walking towards my room. Expecting some kind of apology or calming statement, it was surprising to hear Grandpa sit down and sigh. He sounded upset, almost disappointed. Whoever that was directed at, I couldn't care less at this moment.
The door to the bedroom swung open, revealing my barren living space. Despite being here for a significant portion of my life, the lack of decoration came as a result of not truly feeling like a room to live in. This being somewhat driven by the feeling of an already existing home that I used to live in, as well as the place residing atop a dojo. I opened the closet, grabbed my pajamas then headed to the shower. After the shower, my head lay on the hard pillow, waiting for my brain to drift off into sleep. Tomorrow was a big day, bigger than any before.
The bed is heavy. The sheets are tightly wrapped. Incense fills the quiet air. The same dream.
Somebody, at the foot of the bed, smiling despite the situation. A he, someone I know, an unmistakable face. Yashio, my brother, showing undying support. My parents speak through the thin wall. He looks at mother, something is wrong, beyond the illness.
Brother stands, he grabs the sliding door and closes it. His feet shuffle back to the bed. He stands closer, near my face. A show of concern, a hand rested on my arm. Warmth, care, security and a closeness unlike anything else. Everything will be fine, as long as we're in the same corner. Father shouts at mother, the main entrance slams shut. She cries all the way down the hallway. A palm squeezes mine, gaining my attention.
"I'll always be there for you." pleasantries whispered into my ear. A sentence that oozes a calming sensation. Eyelids close, never to open the same. Though perhaps, there is nothing wrong with that. The bed is heavy.
I snapped awake with a tear rolling down my face. That dream again, rather, that memory showing up once more. Changed, or a more truthful version this time around. Looks like my promise of never crying again was broken subconsciously. Of all possible days, this happens just before today, a chilling omen all of a sudden.
Beside my bed was a can of grape soda, and a letter written in braille. 'Good luck on today's exam!' water under the bridge then. Last night's words still hurt but staying angry would accomplish nothing, so I'll forgive you grandpa.
As per exam regulations, I dressed nicely. An overgrown hoodie, paired with some skin tight jeans, finished off by some newly bought sneakers. Inside my backpack was the 'hero' outfit required for the practical portion, packed after my shower. I swung the bag over my shoulder and started my way over to the station.
The ride over to campus was surprisingly uneventful. No cat calls, no weird stares back at my glaring, not even small interactions that arise from my face. Nothing, an eerie quiet before the storm perhaps.
On the walk over to the exam hall, it was more of the same. Except for one thing, beside the entrance to the U.A. campus stood a guy. He seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary, average build for his age, a bit tall and a heart rate that coincided with someone who exercised. Although, his hand was held high, rubbing his right cheek. He flinched every time his fingers brushed over the skin, an injury. Against my better judgment, I decided to approach him.
"You good?" A sharp recoil once he noticed my presence. Judging by that reaction, he wasn't someone who got much social interaction from people his age. Albeit, there was something else going on here, a feeling alien to me.
"Oh…haha… yeah. A little roughed up from yesterday." A deepish, calm voice, altered by a bit of cracks in between. As he spoke, his eyes diverted to one side in tandem with a sudden spike in his pulse. He's lying, blatantly so. "Last minute training accident." A clear omission of information. Attacked, probably by bullies, either earlier this morning or late last night, going by the skin's pulsation.
"Training hard for today huh?" I decided to play along, despite the obvious lies. Calling someone out for being untruthful first thing once you meet them is beyond weird. Especially when you're actively listening to their heart for any miniscule change in behavior.
"Can't be too ready, right?" A forced smile, serving as a gate for the dodgy injury topic. He also still seemed a little on edge, like the whole idea of even speaking to me was uncomfortable. "So... um….." He rubbed the back of his neck, nervously.
"I'm Yuuki, nice to meet you." I tried guessing what he wanted to ask. My experience with people similar to this made it easier to properly communicate with him. Avoiding mentioning my family name was deliberate, who knows what would happen if people knew of it.
"Right, nice to meet you Yuuki." This time, his grin was genuine, filled with openness. He wanted to continue speaking, continuing to connect. As I thought, not social anxiety, but not a sensation I knew. "Michael Nishijima, pleased to meet you." He bowed a bit as he introduced himself.
A hāfu, a term used to refer to people ethnically half Japanese and half someplace else. His evasiveness from earlier makes sense now. Beat up by a xenophobic bunch, he wanted to appear unassuming and unbothered. Considering his choice of words, this has happened multiple times before. Probably because of something I can't see, something I'm not willing to divulge or even think of. If only the assholes that did this were here, Michael wouldn't be the one rubbing his face.
"Wanna walk together to the entrance?" I tried to hide the sound of my teeth grinding against each other.
"Oh, sure, let's go … uhm… together." The same unease persisted in his tone. A complex of some kind maybe, fomented by continuous years of bullying. Cracking whatever weighs down on him will be hard, nigh on impossible. Yet now that I have a clearer picture, I can't just ignore the way he's been feeling.
The garish campus had tonnes of sakura trees along the path. The falling flowers blew in the wind, landing around our feet, creating a bed of them. Michael's reaction alone gave me an indication of how vibrant the colors must've been. Amidst the growing crowd of students, we walked between the foliage until a large building with a wide entrance came into view.
Outside were two people giving out pins, which probably had numbers on them. We each took one, then headed inside the huge structure. The inside was as big as the outside would suggest, an auditorium holding at least five hundred applicants. The speakers, though silent, made my ears ring, so I covered them as we found an open seat. Must be some lingering high frequency sound within them. The row where we sat down was almost packed full, filled with a wide range of faces. A bunch spaced out, others smirking mischievously, and one suspiciously glaring at…. me?
A girl, with long flowing hair, sporting a piercing gaze. She looked tall, towering, in spite of her sitting down. Her heartbeat sounded like a calm sea. For a second, a liquid appeared to run along her forehead. A sneer of animosity directed my way, like watching some lifelong rival before her. Strangers scowling at me was a common occurrence, but not of this nature. Nothing this intense, this… personal.
Over the course of this short staring match, what seemed like the exam proctor walked in.
"Welcome applicants." The voice of a young woman filled the auditorium. Her hair was held up in a spiky ponytail resembling a starfish or skunk. She looked mature, grown up, yet no older than twenty, or so her body told me. "This year marks our first student-led acceptance examination. A program implemented after careful consideration of previous nonoptimal metrics present in past exams."
I stopped indistinctly goggling at the intense girl before me. An experimental test that happens to land on the year I apply. The ominous chord spawning from my dreadful dreams appears to have come true, one way or another.
"The newly appointed practical portion created by the current third year pupils shall take place today." The young woman paused, as she moved I noticed her glasses sliding down her nose. She had a refined way of speaking and moving around, reminding me of certain people that would show up at the main house. "My hero name is Creati, your examiner. To those who prevail, your fellow U.A. student."
Who knows what the future holds.
To be continued.
A/N
S'up.
I'll try to draw each new character so that readers have an idea as to how they look like. I'm not a fantastic drawer, but I'll have to do it because of my choices when writing this. Turns out writing a blind character can be restrictive, as far as descriptions go. I'll open a doc for the drawings and leave a link to it next chapter.
I'm a bit scared, dunno how a fully post canon story'll go but I've had this idea on my mind for a while. As well as being a harder sell because of that, the first person pov might also push readers away. Maybe I'll switch the pov between my characters so I can describe them better/provide a different voice.
Finally, I've put My Jirou Academia (if you don't know what that is then just disregard this part) on indefinite hiatus. I do plan on returning to finish that but I have no idea when.
Have a nice day.