DO NOT OWN BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA.

​​​​​​In fact, I am not entirely sure how medieval returns plays out. I'm going off pictures, the actual footage of it, and my imagination. Speaking of pictures, I don't own those either unless specified. AND HOLY CRAP WHOEVER DREW THIS PICTURE IS FREAKIN' BEAUTIFUL!!!!!

Days are dull, you know? Each passing day's movement smoothly rolled across my eyes; with those blinking memories, things grew into a state of cosmos. No real definition between what has happened, and what is currently happening. The line was blurred, as one would put it.

And no, don't think I'm not happy with the way things are, I'm actually quite content, in other words I've accepted most of everything, horrible living standards or not. It's a dull and cruel way of living, yet it's a preferably peaceful one, well as peaceful as you can get for peasant farmers. Still most definitely preferable, compared to what's currently going on. War, as most people would put it, is rampaging across grass and dirt, mountain and rock.

I just wish things had a spark, or rush, of excitement every now and then.

But besides the point, morning's coming, and I think it's about time to wake up.

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The usual crowing broke through the still air. The crack of dawn was like a whip, for it shatters across horizons and stirs that which would prefer to stay stagnant.

Silence, bless it, was once again in the air, before another caw from that blasted rooster compelled me to rouse, though the heaviness of my body still grounded me against the thin, dirty sheets and pillow I had rested on. I mumbled and fidgeted underneath my blankets, tossing to the side in a now futile rest.

I knew, so very well, that chores are chores, and they're necessary parts of my life that keep me alive and kicking, but the lull of my blankets wrapped around me just felt so relaxing, even with the sweaty stickiness-

"(Y/N). Get up. Chores are chores." Ah yes, I do know that, I was actually just now rambling about that in my mind, father-

A pain flared on my shin, and stiff as a soldier, I sat up. A grimace crossed my face, angled specifically at my father for kicking me. He just chortled, turning his back and leaving out the door of the small cruck house. He was a jolly man, jollier then most other farmers at least. As most know, or should know, every peasant was assigned, and forced to pledge allegiance over a Bible to a Lord. Subsequent precautions were taken with either one of the dukes, earls, or barons who had ownership over that part of the Lord's land.

It stung at my heart to know that we were practically servants, but, I was raised with it, and rebelling would be pointless seeing as I would most likely die on my own. Predators were everywhere, not just the animals.

Glancing around the grimy room, a thought occurred to me. A faint, shallow thought that would never be fulfilled in my life time. One were, I rebelled against the order, being free willed, like the fantasized robin hood everyone wishes were real.

A soft chuckle resonated in my throat.

A shallow thought indeed.

But, nonetheless, daylight is burning, and with a stretch, yawn and rise of my body from my bed, it was to the kitchen I strolled. As stated before, this house was nothing special; just one room with a kitchen jutting off the left side of the straw walls, dirt floors a main aspect of each room. The thatched rood of hay was the completing thought to a peasants abode. In fact, most people with the status of peasant, didn't even have a kitchen.

Anyways, inside the miniature kitchen, A small wooden bin sat, the wood ruff and poorly strung together. There, my father and I kept our small food stash, such as bread, apples, nuts, and so on and so forth.

Nothing special, or absolutely amazing about it, just plain ol' poor living. Yes, the bread was of repugnant quality and stale to add on to that fact, but I still needed to eat, grabbing a slice would silence my stomach's constant growling.

And so I did grab a piece, placing it firmly between my jaws and crunching down against the rock hard, gritty texture.

Eh. Food was food.

Walking out of the kitchen was part of my daily routine, each step my body bounced on it's heels, messy hair half heatedly springing up and down. No, I didn't have shoes, and if anything, I'm akin to the feeling of the hard earth and rock beneath me.

The door was just a thin curtain, a few mud stains and holes splattered on the cream fabric. Using a hand I veiled the curtain over my head, taking a step into the misty air.

Morning was like that at times. The watery yet chilling air having a dark yet light splash of setting gently placed along every plant, tree, and grain of dirt. In other words, a calm and serene time of day to be in. Birds chirped the most at that time, strangely, I find that endearing. Today, it would be nothing but work, starting first with putting all my time and energy farming the Dukes land or the Churches own fields, though based on the fact that my father didn't say anything about farming the churches land, I could only assume it was back to the Duke's fields. Those large fields, tended to by all the hardworking peasants around, were vast in both size and wealth. With how much food was brought in from it, you could feed a whole village.

My father and I's humble garden, on the other hand, was just enough to survive on, though I myself, wish I could put more effort into caring for it, seeing as most of the day and week was wasted on other peoples crop.

My morning consisted of walking to the wheat fields, cutting the wheat, regrowing it, and repeat. I had to walk by myself, my father, as stated before, is most likely working on the churches land at this time. Walking alone and being female can be dangerous at times, but, if there's a will there's a way.

So I did walk there.

It's a light and pleasant walk, a stroll even, keeping my eyes on the passing scenery consisting of trees, dirt, butterflies, gnats, and flowers, so on and so forth. I took the liberty to wipe my sweaty palms on my ripped and brown pants. They were my dad's old ones that were still big and baggy on me, but I needed something better to work in aside from a skirt, so I cut the excess material off, storing it for some other purpose that may arise. The pants reached my ankles, though they would have dragged on the ground behind me if left untouched.

Arriving at the fields was as uneventful as always, I even spotted a few other people in the same position as me, being simple peasants. That one brown haired boy around my age, matching brown eyes, and that other teen with a reddish brown mop of unruly hair and a light shade of green eyes, were walking in the same direction I was heading in. I never bothered to talk to others. It's pointless, so I let them be them, and me be me. Besides, if I did get interactive, I'd probably be married off or some other load of bull crap like that. Like hell I'll be sold off like that, I've already lasted this long.

I speak strong in my head now, but really I can't handle conversations, or being in the presence of other people, instead choosing to remain in a stiff silence. The talk about not wanting to be married is true though! Don't think that it's not.

I just have a very awkward urge to run when people get close. My dad's an exception, I mean, I grew up with him beside me.

I had reached the fields, but if your expecting some almost full grown wheat, then your wrong. All of it was cut down, an almost barren feel about it. That's where my job comes in.

This crop isn't going to grow itself, me being unwilling or not. Planting (No pun intended) myself a few feet in front of the field, I inhaled a deep breath of air. Pure, and the best for bringing out finest use of my quirk.

Quirks. They're a natural part of the world now, a few people unfortunately not getting one. Those who don't get one are tossed around, labeled as useless compared to those who are able to use tremendous power. I, on the other hand, had a decent quirk that intertwined itself into my work as a farmer.

Raising my now glowing arms, light teal respectively, into the air as if holding the doors of hell closed, everything began to grow. The wheat spread up in one massive sweep, while unintentionally a few flowers grew under and around my feet.

Those golden fields went on for what seemed like miles, and somehow, the thought of how I could barely even make a sapling take root as a child always popped into my mind. I can grow miles of plants all around now, but as stated before, as a child, my quirk knowingly liked to but heads with me. Now, as an eighteen year old, the energy I send out flows freely pass me.

Dropping down onto one of my knees, I sucked in a few sharp breaths before sitting still on the grass. My quirk does have a set back. I'll let you take a guess, if my now slightly aching muscles, and the breath being sucked out of me is anything to go by.

Nothing I can't handle, or should I say, I'm forced to handle.

One of the other workers, the brown haired one that was walking with the red-ish brown haired one just earlier, nudged my shoulder, his voice slightly squeaky, "Woah, hey..." I looked to him, putting on a blank facade, "I know I see you do this everyday, but are you okay...?"

I simply nodded, internally growling in my head to not touch me. If any of these males get the bright idea to court me, I'm done for. Being female puts a huge strain on me, mostly due to the fact that I have no say in anything and everything that comes up. I'm just a doll meant to be ordered, if you would.

That brown haired teen is always asking if I'm okay, and honestly it's grating on my nerves. I know I'm female, but I can handle myself and my quirks setbacks.

Slightly to the right of the annoying one, is the reddish brown haired one that follows silently after anyone who gets at least a few feet from him. Though, I have noticed that he follows the brown haired boy around the most, leading me to believe they're close in one way or another. He's... okay, compared to most other people.

I really need to nickname them something other then, 'The brown haired one' or 'the reddish brown haired one.'

Ah, besides that, I stood up off the ground, in the process knocking his hand off my shoulder. Turning my back to him I began to stalk off. I'm not going to let him get attached to me in any way, as stated before. Though, he seemed to have a second thought.

"Hey!" He called out, slight irritation in his voice, "Answer me for once, will you!"

Glancing behind me in an almost calm way, I showed I was listening. He didn't seem to take it that way, and if anything, it infuriated him more, chocolate eyes drooping slightly and eyebrows sloping. Men in these days think they're the boss of everything, not to say they're aren't any nice people. It's just the way they were raised.

So, when he made the movement to reach towards me with his hand, I did the most reasonable thing that my currently freaking out mind thought of. Run.

And I did run. Several feet, before thinking I must look stupid. That, compared with the fact that I still have to work, let me somehow force myself to look back. His eyes were wide, hand still outstretched, hanging uselessly in the air. He looked so flabbergasted, surprise just-! surprise written all over his face, just because I didn't obediently bow to his order.

Disgusting, is the only word that flashed across my mind.

I-... I have problems with people, and I need to learn how to overcome them in some way besides brushing them off as nothing in my walk or simple running. Running's the worst. It's cowardly.

And yet I do that.

I run.

Back to the situation at hand, Browny here is getting more irritated, frustration being built up behind his eyes, causing them to gloss over in the faintest shade of fury. He huffed loudly, turning back to the field and muttering a quick 'come on' to Red tint.

Ugh. I'm awful at nicknaming things.

Oh well. Boring days continue, and the field was cut down quite quickly, all thanks to Red Tint's quirk. To put it simply, his arms can turn into long swords. It's good for cutting wheat down.

By the time we were finished tying up the first batch of wheat, we had time for another. Burning muscles that felt as if on fire and all, I was once again forced to raise the wheat field from the ashes of nothing.

Yes. it was begining to hurt in more then just plain old normal pain. It felt like hell, the muscles in my body cramping up, releasing and repeating. I'd be fine with a few plants to control or something, but raising miles and miles of wheat can be a strain if I do it more then once. 

The second time, Browny didn't ask if I was okay.

Though during the time I was tying the bundles of wheat together, fresh from the cut, I couldn't help but overhear a few other workers speaking.

"Thing's are getting worse in the castle." Said one to another.

"Yeah? What's happening? Our family doesn't get most of the gossip going around." Said the other to the one.

"Well, I heard the Prince ran away. Couldn't handle being around his father. Things are getting hectic up there with King Endeavor practically ripping villages apart looking for him." He put a worried display on his face as he set his tied bundle upright, continuing onto the next lump of wheat.

"WHAT!? Prince Shouto ran away?!" Utter shock was on the one's face.

"Yeah. What's worse, He came to the kingdom. King Endeavor was already using part of his army to find his son, so he only sent a third of the army after Him." An all knowing look came onto the man's face, a slight sigh slipping past his lips.

"What...? But, He can take on armadas, and ENTIRE ARMIES! Why would-" He got cut off.

"Let's just hope they can chase him out of here before anything bad happens."

"...yeah..."

Ah yes, Him. The Him that took on a full armada single-handedly, the man who fought with glee against several armies from three different kingdoms all at once. Him. The man who rides upon a creature that spits fire and soars as if the bounds of our bodies to the earth were nothing at all. Him. A beast. A monster among monsters.

This man, known and wanted in several different nations, kingdoms, even known among the villians that constantly tried to take over those kingdoms, was Katsuki Bakugou. Rumors had it he was a barbarian. Ten feet tall, with horns sprouting from his head.

Rumors say, he goes into battle unarmed, only his quirk at the ready.

Rumors say, he murders for the fun of it.

Rumors say, his eyes glow before he strikes his foe down.

Of course these rumors are most likely sprouted from the fear drugged minds off those who escaped the battlefield so they can't be that reliable. Know one knows excatly what he looks like, mainly because most are slaughtered on the battlefield, and as stated before, the rest are in a delusion of fear. People only know it's him because the first thing he does is challenge the army outright, only him, the dragon, and the millions that make up the army. Most are rumors, but he's still a dangerous hazard to everyone, and if he were in the kingdom . . .

Yeah . . . hopefully, just hopefully, that third of an army is enough to keep him away.

Though, it does bother me. This small village and farm lands are near the edge of the kingdom. If he were to somehow slip past, this village has the possibility for Him to show up- . . .

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Nah... That's unlikely.

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Very unlikely.

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Nevertheless, the day continued. As always.

Browny stayed quiet, sending silent glances towards me as we both worked. Red Tint just worked as usual, no talking came from his mouth nor grunts from lifting heavy bundles. I swear, sometimes he acts like a mute.

Everyone carried on with their work normally, morning mist fading and turning into the sweat inducing blood boiling afternoon. The wind was beginning to pick up. Every once and a while it would whip across my face, sending my hair sprawling behind my head. It was refreshing, but it had a unsettling feel to it.

The heat was becoming evanescent, slowly dying off into a cooler air. Though, I'm not to sure any of the other workers picked up on the obvious signs, but I did. A storm was approaching and I could feel it. Quite literally, seeing as the the wrath of the warm day began to cool; The clear sky slowing piling with grey clouds.

By the time my coworkers realized what was happening, it appeared already too late. Little but light pellets of water lightly plucked against the ground. It sent everyone into a frenzy, scuttling about as if rats, hurrying to not get wet. Usually, we leave the stacks out to dry, but thanks to the rain, it'll take much longer to dry.

Not that I mind, I quite prefer the water, after all, it does play a part in powering my quirk.

My body, much like the plants around me, absorb the rain, clearing out toxins in my body, refreshing my energy, and overall improving how I feel. It's even healed fresh cuts and bruises almost spontaneously.

So, as other workers took cover, I happily trotted in the direction of my father's and my little cruck house. Step after step, I began the long stroll home, though, when beginning my tread back, Browny felt as though he would say something.

"Hey! You should take cover . . . !" Turning around, I stared blankly at his distraught face. He looked sorry, in a way, "You could get sick!" So he cared. Funny, most men in these ages just care about getting some pretty slave they lable wife. I don't believe he's yelling out of the kindness of his heart, so, doing the appropriate thing, I looked forward and continued on with my destination in mind.

And even if I did care about his feelings, I probably wouldn't have been able to make a good response, staying silent and walking off anyways.

But as I walked, what I didn't see was his crestfallen face as a blew him off again, nor the small pat of Red Tint's hand against his shoulder.

Nevertheless, the walk felt better then when I had woken up and trudged down the dirt path. A mindless smile appeared on  my face, content with the now heavy rains falling against me. Still moving, I glanced down at my hands and once again confirmed that healing in water was apart of my quirk. The few cuts I had got while working were nonexistent, only faint lines of where they once were.

It makes me wonder at times. Wonder what my mother's quirk was. I never really had the chance to meet her, seeing as she died in one of a villains raid on the village. Your probably asking why I haven't asked my father, but I have already.

He refused to answer, getting choked up when he opens his mouth to give a response. After that, he gets all depressed the rest of the day, eyes downcast and droopy looking. Honestly, he looks like a kicked puppy.

It's a sad sight to see.

Kicking my foot in the mud while I walk, I aimed my head downward. Just thinking about how sad he gets depresses even me.

Looking into the clouds didn't hinder my pace, for I didn't mind having it as slow as I had it. It just felt nice to relax for once, even though my quirk's drawbacks were still burning at my muscles. I noticed my endurance has been rising, that's a good fact.

While I was looking up, I took the time to acknowledge just how bad the downpour had gotten. By now, the storm was monstrously raging about the area. Lightning struck a little ways away from me, the loud crack of thunder following straight after and unintentionally making me jolt forward. Just a small jump scare, nothing I couldn't handle, but with how close that was, it was a little worrisome. The ever present fear of having a tree fall on me lurked beneath my thoughts of confidence.

My feet at this point were covered in mud, and already I had stepped on multiple stones, not that I cared.

Finally reaching the house, I took the liberty to sit down in front of it. I didn't want to get out of the rain just yet, so I chose to relish in it for a bit longer. A couple more minutes wouldn't hurt.

And that I did, that I did.

Actually a few hours at most. The clouds gradually began to get darker, signifying that night was beginning. I had skipped a whole day of work, and I'm grateful to the clouds for that.My father wasn't home. that's to be expected.

Still, the hurricane like storm refused to let up.

And, let's just say, I've never felt better.

Sure, the garden my father and I tended to is probably getting damaged, but it's easy to replace.

And sure, one might argue I could get sick sitting here in the rain, but I couldn't. The rain heals me, so nothing bad could happen.

And Yes, someone could possibly say that sitting on the wet and mushy ground might be uncomfortable, but I didn't mind.

And yeah, once the storm is over my clothes will be muddy, but they already were covered with dirt, for it didn't matter.

Nothing matters at this moment in time. Just me, the rain, and the soothing, tranquil feeling it washes me with.

Of course, all good things come to an end, one way or another.

The way mine was interrupted with wasn't as pleasant as I thought it would be.

A suppressed crack beat against my ears, sizzling as if being put out. It sounded quite reminiscent to the thunder in which the storm had created.

But it wasn't thunder. It- . . . I just couldn't place what it sounded like.

Once again, an almost muted crack burst through the air, sounding closer, the sizzling being only a few meters off from me.

It alarmed me, so taking my raise from my comfort zone, I backed against the not so sturdy cruck house.

It had to be thunder- it had to be thunder- it had to be thunder-!

Another couple pops split through my ears, sounding so pitifully small, sizzling in way that spelled defeat. Still, even if those pathetic spurts of noise were so hushed against my ears, I squeaked. Not because the noise scared me, but because the uncertainty of what created that noise.

I know I'm going to hate myself for this, but . . .

It sounded so doleful to me. Almost like a dying animal, desperately calling out for help.

One step after another, I made my way from the sanctuary that is the houses wall, and to the woods where the noise sounded from.

A heat rushed through my body, sending shivers up my spine pumped with adrenaline and sending my brain sprawling into unknown depths. Unknown depths where not even I can make out what lies beneath me.

I've been scared before, just not like this.

Not to the point where the sky touches the ground, where the light meets the darkness. Twisting, straight, Questions, silence, Dark, Light, fire, water, everything, nothing. It ate away at my flesh, sputtering across my skin and making me dumb, forking- coiling- around my gut before twisting- being oh so gut wrenching-

It had the audacity to make my knees feel weak and the ground and area around me feel as if nothing-

overlapping thoughts and feelings, spreading across my mind and body alike, tumbling, leaping, scattering like the wind-

It all happened so fast. Too fast.

One moment I'm running for what seemed like no reason, then the next-

I'm staring forward at what felt like a massacre.

Blood. Blood was . . . everywhere it felt.

Now, it wasn't just the storm that brought chaos into my mind. It was the blood splattering across the ground and grass.

Not my blood, obviously not, but someone else's.

Ashen blond hair, and a fiery stare being only one of the few noticeable aspects of him.

It was a sight to behold. A wound slashed across his abdomen, starting from just below his heart, before jutting out and reaching to his right hip bone. running down his body was clots of blood, thick drops that just didn't seem to end.

Behind him was a large trail a the crimson fluid, even pooling beneath him, and sloshing around as he tried to walk straight.

It was pitiful . . . yet sickening all the same with the gore.

. . . It was even running out of his mouth . . .

If that wasn't the only thing though, we both stopped when we saw each other. A disturbing silence, only dared be broken by the heavy downfall of the heavens above.

Each of us staring, not making any move to speak or blink. With his burning, almost glowing, crimson color, against my own (E/C) hue.

His stare was more of grimace though, pain clear as any day, while below the filmy looking gloss to his eyes was noticeably anger or annoyance of some sort.

I tried to speak, I swear I did. But nothing would come out. Even with the ever-flowing rain around me, an unfamiliar dryness was there on the inside of my mouth.

Sucking my lips in, I barely got a croak out of my mouth when the loud thunk and shuffle of clothes and flesh against ground hit my ears.

Face first in his own blood, along with mush known as mud, that boy collapsed.

Ashen blonde hair, burning stare, and a life threatening wound, there he lay.

Some person I didn't know.

Some guy that looked like he'd kill me if he didn't have that fatality.

Why do I feel like I have to empathize with this guy?

I mean seriously fate.

Why do you feel the need to throw a dying human being in front of my feet and decide to force me to feel pity?