Fear is a state of mind. If you fear me, you fear your own damned thoughts.

Disclaimer: <<slight trigger warning>>

~~~

♡ ♡ ♡

The sun gleamed blindly against the small town of Kure, located somewhere across the northern border of Masutafu. The bustling sakura trees on that late afternoon shook slightly underneath the slight breeze that caressed the atmosphere of the busy street. Fallen pink blossoms found themselves tumbling to the ground, fighting relentlessly to reach the rugged pavement below them. The smoothly polished concrete was bombarded with numerous petals shaken slightly from their safe haven, long forgotten under the feet of wanderers going about their day. It was a rather quaint experience, the Japanese summer heat befalling the remainder of the building standing tall against the suns burning rays, the glistening reflection mirroring the town's achievements.

Kure was a providential small suburban area; the citizens would busy themselves on the daily, far too preoccupied to notice the world around them. The entirety of the town itself seemed immensely self-absorbed as there was hardly a soul that cared what happened to anyone other than themselves. It was no wonder why hero laws and quirk usage was abolished. Kure was located in one of the few states in Japan that made the profession and use of natural power illegal as a result of pure hatred toward anything above normality. Compared to a large city such as Musutafu, in both size and quirk users, Kure had a widely smaller demographic. In the entirety of the small area, in which estimated to approximately three hundred and fifty residents, three had logged quirks. The history surrounding the small area largely based itself on normality. The mayor, Haruki Natumo, vowed to keep the essence of the rural land before it with tradition as historically accurate as possible, meaning the use of quirks and pursuing a heroic career was more than ridiculed.

Not many cared for this unjustifiable law, as they seemed to enjoy the quirk free complex rather well, but one quirk holder within the quaint town strived for better. Living in a world in which suppressed who you truly were was not a life meant for an aspiring hero. Becoming a hero meant being able to express your individuality. Being able to separate yourself from everyone surrounding you and prove you are able to help those in need. It was not just a career path. It was an opportunity. One that was not cut out for everyone.

"There are too many people," the voice of a middle school student states silently to herself as she tightens her grip on her (f/c) backpack strap, uncomfortably making her way through the cramped streets surrounding her smaller form.

The girl was no taller than the average middle school girl which forced the hordes of pedestrians to tower over her. She shook slightly from the thought of a possible social interaction upon her arrival home, dreading any fretful encounter with one of her "admirers". The girl with (e/c) eyes was hardly the approachable kind (especially to the people of her town). She went by many names; the ongower, the freak, monster, devil in disguise, but the most popular she had been branded under was the dragonfly of Kure.

At first mention, the name seemed honorable but it was anything from it. It was most promptly used to degrade her and ridicule something that once made her proud in another life. In the town, dragonfly was housed as a term of weariness, unbecoming evil, and crude hostility which explained how the name got labeled to the girl with the power to drop everyone around her like flies. She was the true becoming of evil in the eyes of those around her but her troubles only seemed to be scraped from the surface as no one knew the truth of how deep her scars were.

The (h/c) haired girl scratches the back of her neck, her dragonfly shaped birthmark shyly becoming visible to the world beyond it. The marking was a dark imprint on her soft skin, measuring up to the length of her pinkie stretched across the hidden plane. It was hardly noticeable as some of her hair managed to cover it but when removed the marking was as clear as day. Her narrowed (e/c) eyes bounced around the street until they settled amongst the glistening gates surrounding a small park. She sighed to herself solemnly before she begrudgingly carried herself beyond her better judgment and into the tattered memories of her own childhood, harboring mixed feelings of the place she once loved.

She grumbled tiredly as she found herself standing in the middle of the green terrain, surrounded by the metallic overhead of a modern-day playground. The rusting color of the jungle gym left a slight red dust coating the girl's fingertips as her hands slightly grazed the bars of the paint chipping steel. Her fingers trembled against the burning sensation of the metal left out in the heat for far too long, enjoying the slight sting the steel gave to her delicate touch as she yearned to extinguish the pure numbness coursing through her. She recalled the endless times she clumsily tumbled beyond the colorful bars, riddling her soft (s/c) skin with bruises, scrapes, and few scars. As a child, she feared getting as much as touched yet she always found herself with new wounds scattered across her body; whether it be on her underside of her legs or the tip of her nose, her face was constantly covered by colorful band-aids with her favorite hero printed on them. (The hero brand of band-aids were outlawed in 1990, resulting in the girl's father ordering an unruly amount of bandages from Masatafu with said hero's smiling face staring back at the world). A little boy, a few inches taller than the girl, first handed her a band-aid with a hero printed on the front, saying something about wanting to be one himself but with his quirkless nature, he would never stand a chance. From that day forward, she protected that very band-aid with her life as the boy entrusted her with it. The same boy who was the first to never looked at her differently.

The teen took a seat on the soft turf beneath her black and white sneakers, running her fingers through flourishing blades of grass. The soft heat beating down on her (s/c) skin caused small beads of sweat to trickle from her forehead down to her bandaged nose but found she could not care less. She simply laid amongst the dirt and earthworms, staring up at the sun with lidded eyes. The serene scenery painted such a peaceful image that would surely prod against her memory until the sweet departure of her own personal torment. She hesitantly reached into her (f/c) backpack, slightly ruined from the slick dirt coating the sides of the rough material, and pulled out a cigarette only to stare it in in a melancholy manner. The bud danced within her fingertips before finally finding itself balanced on the bottom of the girl's busted lip, ready for use. Slowly but surely, the girl lifted her right hand to her lips where the white and brown bud laid and flexed her index finger as she watched a purple flame of light emerged from the tip, creating a slightly explosive effect that successfully lit the tip of the cigarette. She took a long drag, filling her lungs with smoke before pulling the cancer stick out of her mouth and shakily blowing the toxins into the air, her muscles relaxing immediately. She had yet to realize her entire body had been shaking, forcing her to inhale unsteadily. She repeated the action a few times before she could no longer handle the smoke in her body and coughed it out of her lungs, making her abdomen and chest ache.

Hesitantly, she laid down on the grass and slowly lifted her hand, partially covering the blinding sun from melting her dark (e/c) eyes as she created space between her middle and ring finger to view the burning tease in a way that gave her now sore purple eye some sort of relief. A large dark bruise surrounded the underbelly of her eye that stung the more she placed a gentle touch to it as she watched two large clouds cover half of the sun as an orange-ish red hue was beginning to form in the midst of the changing time. The pain settled in more areas than the girl could count but she paid more attention to her nagging thoughts of her own idiocies rather than the increasing pain of her abused body.

Her (e/c) eyes fluttered shut, the sudden memory of what occurred earlier that evening playing repeatedly in her mind:

"You weak bitch," a punch landed to the side of the girl's face, causing a steady stream of red to trickle down her lip to her chin. The pain from the blow caused the (e/c) eyed female to spit, falling completely to the pulsating sensation burning from her (s/c) skin. The sting from the hit simply ached but ultimately fueled the girl's cocky demeanor, forcing her to spit out the blood that already began to pool in her mouth before turning her almost demonic gaze toward her attacker.

"Is that the best you've got," She bit back with a dark look in her dull (e/c) eyes.

Even in the face of danger, the teen had a tongue of ice but her response did little to save her. Instead, it provoked her attacker to pull out a small hand knife and hold it dangerously close to the girl's neck in an attempt to silence her scornful words. She knew her attacker, more formally known around town as Himawari Kio (Kure's infamous "sweetheart"). She wouldn't dare tarnish the reputation she withheld by doing something unladylike but both girls knew that no one would care if the (h/c) haired teen left unannounced. Even if the knife's presence to the girl's throat was a hollow threat, the teen knew better than to retaliate.

Her shoulders dropped slightly as she propped her weight against a mint green locker. Soon, her shaky inhales turned into heavy breaths that echoed throughout the empty halls of her prestigious middle school.

"What the fuck do you want," she growled lowly, glancing from the blade now caressing the side of her face, the knife so cold it made her (s/c) skin tingle.

Himawari narrowed her eyes at the shorter girl in front of her, wanting nothing more than to plunge the blade so deep into her skin that she would cry out in utter horror and plea for her to stop. However, instead of acting on her hate-filled urges, she simply dug the side of the blade gently against the girl's cheek, soft enough to not draw too much blood but hard enough to leave a noticeable slice.

"I want you to remember who was first to break you," The hybrid sinisterly grinned, digging the blade deeper into the girl's skin, "Just because you're moving doesn't mean you're free. I'll always be in the back of your mind making sure you know who owns you."

Once satisfied with the cut, the teal haired girl pulled the knife away, wiping the blood onto the girl's school uniform collar in the process. She grinned wickedly, seemingly content with her crude actions, and dropped the tightening grip she had on the teen's shoulder. Turning on her heel, she took a final glance at the broken girl pompously before taking her leave, making sure the smaller teen knew that she had lost a fight she could have never won.

"Like hell you do," (e/c) eyes shot up to the retreating figure of everyone's loved idol as she clenched her fist in sudden anger.

Himawari stopped, keeping her gaze fixated ahead of her but her large grey ears twitched in acknowledgment.

"What was that?"

The girl hesitantly straightened herself and held her head up high.

"Like hell you fucking do," she repeated, cleaning the blood off her cheek with an aggressive sneer, "You don't own me anymore. I'm going to be a hero and there's nothing you can do to change that."

The teal haired teen scoffed humorously, turning around in disbelief to face the girl head on who, for the first time in several years, had the guts to stand up to her. The two had known each other for quite some time and for as long as the assaulter could remember, the little girl with big (e/c) eyes had always idealized the thought of heroes and everything they stood for. This kind of wishful thinking edged the two beyond partnership. There was no way Himawari could ever associate herself with an aspiring hero. They were disgusting, vile...worthless.

The girl's grey tail flicked to the side as she inched forward, glaring daggers at the hero in training. Kio's family was a specific breed of former quirk holders, most commonly known as the Catunas (Cat•oon•uh•z). Their unique physique was nothing more than a hereditary matter. Himawari refused to accept the fact that her ancestors were quirk wielders themselves and held her own normality (ignoring her grey tail and ears) on a pristine pedestal. From the town's neglect of embracing quirks, the natural dilemma soon disappeared altogether. It was an enigma how the new generation of quirk wielders were simply without their genetic power, the (e/c) eyed teen being one of the many few to still hold onto her gift. Endless lines of genetic heritage were lost and forced to slowly rot away but it was a blessing not meant to be overlooked.

"A hero," she repeated, stepping closer to the sharp-tongued student with her tail slithering around her leg, "you? The monster of Kure?Just face it, you'll always be a pathetic loser who might as well be quirkless."

The (h/c) haired teen held a hard expression, listening to the words drip from her former friend's lips in disgust. Himawari knew better than anyone that her scornful statement was far from a lie but the quirk wielder could not bring herself to admit the words she knew were more than true.

She was afraid of her own quirk.

Kure's loveable sweetheart blew air out of her nose teasingly as a smirk pulling at her cherry red lips, prodding her finger roughly against Kure's star monster.

"Mew did I hit a nerve," she cooed, purring slightly at the beginning of her sentence as her cat-like tendencies swept her collected judgment, "Everyone here knows you're nothing. Stop trying to act like you will ever be anything more—"

She paused to get closer to her face, pressing the blade further against her skin whispering darkly into her ear.

"Than a villain."

THUMP.

In a split second, the (e/c) eyed female switched the roles of assaulter and victim. Her right arm gripped onto the taller girl's shoulder and shoved her until her back slammed against the lockers as her own did a few moments prior to the attack. She was now in the middle of the girl's partially spread legs, shoving one hand against the locker behind her slightly frazzled teal locks while the other was open just inches away from her neck. A bright blue hue emerged as if out of nowhere and coated the teen's exposed neck, cutting off her air supply. The shorter teen slowly closed her opened hand into a fist, her once dull (e/c) eyes were now a baby blue with a dark indent surrounding her dilated iris's.

"I might be afraid," she narrowed her eyes at the girl's darkened expression from the lack of air being delivered to her lungs, "But I can promise you one thing. I will be a hero. And my name will be remembered as the greatest fucking hero since Mrs.Ultra."

As quickly as she raised her hand, she dropped it. Her eyes flashed a glowing light red encased in a maroon ring for a moment before returning to their original (e/c) color with her iris's dilating from narrowed slits to torbs. The sudden change in demeanor threatened the attacker more than words ever could. As soon as the bright hue around her faded, Himawari fell to the ground, coughing painfully at the lack of blood supply to her brain while the girl with the bloody school uniform simply stared at her with an unreadable expression. Soon all of the emotion left her soulless body and a blank face soon settled amongst her features for the last time.

The quirk weilder touches her buster lip in remembrance, sighing solemnly. That girl was a demon, the true embodiment of evil and she proved that her name was indeed something that she lived up to. She was disappointed in herself more than anything. She had gotten used to the physical torment from Himawari herself, that was no surprise, but the difference from those hours prior to where she was now, laying silently amongst the dirt, was the regret she felt. She could have changed the public's opinion. She could have proved she was better than her lable and that she wasn't a monster that everyone sought her out to be but instead, she proved what she really was. She was a monster.

"Tch," her expression darkens as she clenched her fist in anger. She never threatened or stood up for herself before but the feeling of morality afterward made her prolonged effort seemed far from satisfactory, "That bitch deserved it but I shouldn't have done anything..."

The sudden statement left the girl with a bad taste in her mouth, the feeling slowly creeping up to the back of her neck in an unsettling way. She knew she shouldn't have tried to be something she wasn't but even then, she was only human. In her mind she figured, would have won that battle anyway, an idol or a freak? That question went without saying, it was plain and simple; she would never win under any circumstances. That was simply the way the world worked in her favor, everything and everyone was against her.

The world is cordially invited to suck my as—

The theme song to the girl's favorite anime blared deafeningly from her phone, successfully capturing her troubled gaze. She paused, racking her brain for a moment to guess who could have possibly messaged her. Hesitantly, she reached out for the rapidly vibrating device and to her surprise, it was her father.

6:45 pm
From: Dad💜
To: My baby

Hey hun, when are you coming home? It's getting late and the moving van is already here.

Read

She re-read the message and pursed her lips, glancing momentarily at the time stamp above. She had overstayed her welcome, as per usual, and her thoughts had successfully consumed her yet again. The sun had already gone down and the scenery around her had darkened immensely, much to her dismay. The once bright and glistening metal bars of the colorful jungle gym were now dimly lit by a flickering yellow street lamp. The wind polluting the air shook the leaves off of the tree branches almost aggressively as they found themselves scattered amongst the ground around her, her fingers occasionally reaching out to grab a handful of fronds only to crush them. The benches seemed more lonesome in the girl's dull (e/c) eyes, reflecting the numbness she felt. As symbolic as the situation was, the aspiring hero knew better than to linger longer than intended as she had done so already. Originally, she was supposed to make way to her new home three hours before she realized the time but her father had given her the gift of time and allowed her to say one final good-bye before their departure.

Turning off her phone, the (h/c) haired teen grabbed her belongings and soon found herself staring face to face with a vending machine on the outskirts of the park's entrance, the identical one she used to practically beg money for. She absolutely adored the miniature packaging of milk from the yellow dispenser that each time she would walk past, she couldn't help but plea to her father until he finally gave in and bought them both one to enjoy. It wasn't just the milk she enjoyed but the carton as well, it was a pastel (f/c) with the head of an animated character on the bottom. The character, who was usually depicted as a boy wearing a blue cap, was shown holding a smile and the fruit of what flavor was printed across the box (depending on which milk carton was purchased. The regular milk had the boy holding a cow plushie but other flavors would have him hold said fruit instead).

While staring at the selection of possible beverages, the girl pulled out her wallet that held around one thousand yen and tapped it gently against the glass. After deciding which flavor would satisfy her tastebuds more, she quickly inserted two hundred yen into the machine and selected her choice. She stood idly for a moment as she watched the compartment on the side open up, greeting her with two small cartons of flavored milk.

Sighing to herself, she took both drinks into her hands and shoved them into her backpack, already continuing her journey back home. She was well aware of the situation at hand but found leaving her home rather difficult. Even if the town hadn't felt the same, Kure would always hold a place in her heart and in the back of her mind. That place being horribly repressed trauma that continuously stripped her of her sanity and control.

________________

Time: 7:01 pm
Location: Former residence 

"Augh is this the last of it," the (h/c) haired teen pants as she lugged yet another cardboard box into the white moving van, this one much heavier than the rest.

The final box she carried contained numerous hero trinkets the girl had collected from her father's commune to a town a little over two hours away. There she stored her posters, figurines, exclusive merchandise, you name it. She was a huge hero fanatic and was shy to admit that she collected every hero's signature in the prefecture her father worked in, which so happened to be home to the biggest hero department in all of Japan. No one knew of this embarrassing fact other than the girl's father and yet instead of being teased for her obsession, she received praise. He was more than pleased that his daughter strived for better. Prideful, even, that she aspired to help people rather than stick to selfish desires much like the town around them. In many ways, the girl reminded him so much of her mother. That woman was always aiming for the best even if she knew she would most likely never achieve her goal. That kind of motivational drive always compelled him, it was an amazing quality that he knew his beloved daughter hadn't gotten from him.

The older male, who was wiping sweat from his long bangs, chortled at the girl's response. He had been hauling items into the truck for a solid three hours and she had the audacity to feel exhausted when she had been working for a solid ten minutes. But instead of being angry at her, he laughed. He found humor in the girl's obvious laziness. She wasn't one to prioritize her work over fun yet her grades never seemed to be affected (perhaps it was due to her nagging anxiety and stress that enforced her to work against her will). She worked effectively and did exceptionally well for a girl with a seemingly random personality.

"Yeah I think so," he huffed, taking a deep breath of his own, "You got everything? Your phone? Wallet? Any other boxes with your name on it?"

She nodded stiffly at him, slightly embarrassed he knew her so well. She was liable for anything she forgot to pack and it was just her luck that she could have easily forgotten if her father hadn't been there to remind her several times. The girl was intelligent but had the horrible habit of negating to check more than once as she was undoubtedly forgetful.

"Good," a soft smile graced his sharp features before a dark shadow clouded his eyes, "Hotaru (firefly)...I've been meaning to confess something to you for a while now. I didn't want to leave Kure because I had faith everything would work itself out. I thought that leaving would hurt so much more than staying but...it hurts so much more being in that house knowing nothing will ever change. And when you came home last month with all of those bandages and—and—and blood and stuff...I knew I was lying to myself. You never said anything about what they were doing to you, so I couldn't have known. I just thought—"

The sound of soft melodic laughter tingled his ears as he stared at this daughter with a more than flabbergasted expression. He hadn't been able to think of the last time the girl had even done as much as smile yet there she was, laughing in response to his constant muttering as they both knew he was horrible at managing his words. The immediate sound was more than a symphony coursing through his eardrums that he could have sworn his heart would melt from the warmth radiating within his body. He surely wasn't expecting laughter in response to his depressing rant, it was more than a surprise. She was a peculiar child, that was for sure. It was that kind of erratic behavior that made him wonder where she got her unique traits from since he knew she didn't get it from him. Her mother, however, flashed through his mind at the sudden thought and he was immediately aware of where the girl's peculiar persona originated.

"Dad, if I don't stop you now you'll be muttering forever," she took a breath from her light chucking and stretched her arm above her head to grab the handle on the back of the moving van to yank it down, "don't blame yourself. I liked how things were. Let's just leave it at that."

His shocked expression soon morphed into one of relief. He knew his daughter had trouble living in the town but he also knew that leaving all you knew was just as difficult but the look the girl gave him made all of his worries disappear. He knew that whatever stood in his way, he would no longer have to face it alone.

It was evident that trauma wasn't foreign amongst the small family—the plentiful amount of scars damaging the young teen's beautiful skin seemed to prove that to be true. Though, the strange part of it all was that she had no recollection of where she had gotten the majority of the wounds. In fact, it was almost as if the mere memory of what occurred had been eradicated from her mind altogether. (One of those being the largest scar she bared; it was a nasty indent that lead from the base of her neck to the upper section of her back). No matter how hard she racked her brain for a solution, there was always an empty abyss of where her recollection should have been—it was more of a nuisance if she was being honest, one that she hadn't minded as much as before. Her father, on the other hand, took the situation more seriously.

When he first found out about the plethora of scars present on her soft (s/c) skin, his mentality fractured. He lost control of his quirk and entered a cognitive rampage. His own daughter was forced to tie him down on numerous occasions before he was able to hurt himself—or anyone else for that matter—even if the efforts were always proven to be infantile. When asked if he remembered any of this, he could never answer. Whatever happened before and after the discovery of his mental breakdowns was a complete blur to him. At first, doctors figured it was one of the responses of his darkness enhancer. It was a dangerous power to withhold in one vessel but after years of training and practicing the concept of full quirk control, the teen's father was able to control the level of destruction it caused. But upon further investigation, it seemed that his berserk episodes were a result of suppressed mental trauma in which would trigger his blackouts. He would have never guessed that his own power would turn against his own body and cloud his mentality with darkness. It wasn't the first time, however, that had gotten lost in his own mind but in order to be brought out of the dark hole, his daughter would have to get him out.

He recalled a time where he was the most vulnerable. He submitted to the abuse of alcohol to numb the pain but the intoxication pushed him into yet another mental breakdown. His body had gone limp in the middle of the living room on a brisk Sunday afternoon, clearly drunk out of his mind. Several empty bottles of whiskey were littered around his slumped body, each one broken to its bare limits with their remains scattered across the floor. The man continued to pound away at the bottles of liquor until he found himself unable to feel anything and by his twelfth one, he reached his limit. Before he could pass out, his quirk activated on its own and trapped him in his mind. He was stuck in a dark room, his haunting memories replaying over and over again until he could do nothing but cry for them to stop. If he tried to run from the torment,  he would simply find himself in the same place as before, surrounded by darkness and a bright spotlight held high above his head to let him know he was their focus. Every negative emotion that he felt was embodied in a slender shadow, breaking away at his mind in ways that were far from peaceful. They were absolutely relentless. They hadn't aimed to kill him but sought to break his soul away until there was nothing left in its place.

When the teen found him, his lively blue eyes were dull and grey, meaning his body was simply a hollow shell without a soul. In a panic, she placed her forehead against his while her fingertips settled along with his own. After a moment, her eyes changed from their (e/c) hue to a white static and she was quickly able to enter her father's mind.

He must have stayed there for a few hours before she came to his rescue. Upon her arrival, every negative demon seemed to vanish into a dark smoke that burned his lungs, so much so where it felt like he was drowning even though he was well above water. She held his hands in her own and softly ran her thumb against the slits of his scars, trying to make him feel some sort of warmth in contrast to the icy spike in the air surrounding them. By bringing herself inside of his mind, she could have accidentally transferred her memories to her father and her body would be nothing but a hollow shell of where her soul used to be (her physical form would be left behind while her soul would be in her father's head as nothing more than a voice). She did this more than once, as her father had the tendency to let himself mentally wander, and each time she managed to escape. They were both strong enough to break the barrier that depressed them from the outside world but if either one of them had even one negative thought, they would be trapped in there for God knows how long. She never found herself unable to leave the mindscape in the past but kept the possibility in mind each time she sacrificed herself.

"Right," her father grimaced, the smile stretched across his face almost forced, "The point is, I love you. You worry, frustrate, and annoy me to death but you're still my little girl...and that is one thing that will never change."

He saw a twinkle of sadness in his daughter's eyes as she stared at him with pursed lips. His simple words hit her harder than any punch or scar she had received and behind her tough façade, he knew that.

He wanted to give her everything he couldn't but he couldn't find the strength to.

After the unthinkable occurred, he was broken beyond repair. No amount of love nor affection he received would ever be able to mend the wound in his aching heart. He felt like a piece of his heart and soul had been ripped completely from his body—blood and all; he viewed himself as a weak vessel for a powerful quirk, but, unbeknownst to him, his daughter had thought nothing of the sort. He was much more than he gave himself for. Honestly, it saddened the teen how her father could never see the strength behind the man who was built to act as a robotic machine. Even with tears in his eyes or a forced smile stretch across his sharp features, the man still managed to radiate the pure character of heart that made anyone swoon at his charismatic charm. He bared this ability as an early teen but did not embark nor embrace this matter until his mid-thirties when he realized it's maximum impact. And just like that, her father would be the charismatic man everyone would grow to love. In an ironic sort of way, the man in his late thirties would certainly come across as transparent for his predictability (something he wanted) but with a mysterious element of surprise bubbling at the surface to his disposals, he was almost undoubtedly comparable to an apparition in disguise. A phantom at that.

Before he could process his rambling thoughts, he stood in front of the girl and had his large arms secured around her waist. She was stiff in his touch for a moment before his soft breath tingled her ear, her hair briskly waving from the heat that gently caressed the side of her face. She had forgotten what an embrace had felt like. Instead of pulling away, she pursed her lips and let the hug soothe her thoughts. Her father wasn't that much of the affectionate type after all—not that she was either—but she enjoyed the touch more than words could describe. She didn't return the favor yet she did little to resist. Her head of tangled (h/c) hair was buried into his firm chest as one arm secured itself around her waist while the other gently held her head in place in fear of her leaving the emotional ambiance.

The two stood amidst a wondrous reflection of their past selves.; memories she had with her father and the memories he harbored from her mother. She recalled when she and her father would embrace each other every morning before he went to work and every night before she fell asleep. He didn't do it as much as she grew older. The colder she had gotten, the more distant he became. He yearned to have a healthy relationship with his daughter but her steady growth and his backbreaking work made this difficult for him to achieve. He recalled a time where he could easily picture when he has been able to hold her mother so close in his arms the way he held his daughter, how joyous he was to be able to hold the only woman he had ever loved so close. In true honesty, it felt like a fever dream. She and his daughter were the only ones in his life to ever fill him with completeness. Such nostalgia should not have been allowed to resurface the way it did for the two struggling quirk wielders yet they were more than glad that that sense of familiarity filled their hearts to the brim in remembrance. They didn't want to forget but to remember, to embrace the memories that once kept them at normality's bay.

"Alright kid," he pulled away from the hug, trying to contain his emotions, and smiled softly at her, "Thats's enough, I don't like seeing you look so down. I already promised you mochi once we get there so stop moping and get in the car, I've been wanting to leave since this morning."

She grinned softly at his bluntness and took his advice as she began walking over to the passenger side of the van. He simply shook his head at her retreating figure but couldn't fight his with his own smile forming at his lips. The queer girl was his kryptonite yet he wasn't entirely sure if that was a good or bad thing. He simply had a soft spot for his daughter, unlike other dads who simply believed that aggression and yelling would be the ideal way to raise a child. He was the complete opposite with his approach with the girl. He chose a friendly persona instead. He acted as though she was his friend, closer than his closest confidant in fact, yet if she needed it he surely would have a firm hand with her. He hadn't needed to scold her for much as she was a rather unproblematic child. She, of course, had an aggressive and hostile personality but he understood the reasoning behind it. To him, he figured; who wouldn't have such a cold outlook on life when treated like a monster since birth? Eventually, he gladly gave her the okay to kick anyone's ass who provoked her in the slightest as long as it was in the form of self-defense. Which, in most cases, it was.

The girl was already seated in the passenger seat by the time her father opened the car door, seatbelt securing her position. He did the same and took the keys from his pocket before sticking it into the ignition. Turning the clanking metal to the side, the van roared to sudden life. Placing both of his hands on the steering wheel, his attention was suddenly caught by his daughter who seemed to have a sudden epiphany.

"Oh dad," she spoke up in a more than unusually soft tone, grabbing her (f/c) colored backpack from the floor and placed it on her lap, "Before I forget again, I want to give you this. I thought it would be a nice parting gift since we used to drink these all the time when I was little."

His eyes shoot from the steering wheel in his grip to the small container in the girl's hands. His mouth was left agape as he stared at the gift with wide eyes, he was not expecting such affection upon his departure and certainly not from his emotionally broken daughter. It was rather unusual for the girl herself to express how she felt as normal people would which explained her father's utmost surprise with the emotion she was expressing, one he was absolutely fond of. Love.

Soon, his surprise is soon replaced with tear-jerking sentiment. He could feel his heart filled with utmost joy with how much his daughter had loved him, the little things she would do proved just that.

"Did you get me strawberry," he screeched in utter excitement as his icy blue eyes sparkled, something the girl didn't know he could do.

She nodded, taking out a small carton of strawberry milk from her backpack and handed it to him along with a white straw that had three small hearts coating the plastic material. He took it quickly and immediately shoved the straw inside of the carton, wasting no time in taking a huge sip from the small box. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as a satisfied noise left the base of his throat the more he felt the lukewarm milk swirl within his mouth, not that he minded. Warm milk, cold milk, it didn't matter. To him, milk was milk. No matter what flavor or temperature it was.

"Jesus you're the best daughter anyone could ever ask for," he humored, more than pleased with his favorite drink in hand, "I hope they have these up there too. I'd be a shame if they didn't but I wouldn't exactly be devastated either. I haven't really been by the station that much so I don't know if they've got them in the city, it's not like my prefecture covers that sanction anyway. I patrol on the outskirts and I sure as hell haven't seen any there—"

The teen didn't bother with her father's nonsensical ranting about milk and continued to sip on her own lukewarm beverage. She loved her father but the topic at hand simply wasn't that interesting to her. He had the habit of talking shyly about things until stopped and the girl hadn't had the heart to stop him. She never did. Like her father, she had a soft spot for him, one that turned her cold heart warm when he was around her. Simply seeing his calming face made her feel incomprehensible serenity as he was most comparable to an emotional diffuser; every negative notion coursing through her mind would soon be eliminated once her eyes settled amongst the calming oceanic waves crashing against a summer's day.

Only he can rant about absolutely nothing, she thought to herself bitterly, her eyebrows narrowing slightly before returning to their original form once her eyes settled amongst smooth material within her fingertips, and even then, he's my dad. He's always been there for me. As much as he says he's a failure—neither my mom or I have ever thought that. He's so much stronger than he believes he is. Just because he's caught showing emotion, doesn't make him any less of a man. Even when he's battling his own demons...he manages to make time for me and the bullshit I cause. If it weren't for him, I'd probably be dead by now. Perhaps by my own hands or someone else's. He's been there every step of the way and honestly, I don't think I could say the same. I wish I did more. I wish he knew how much I adore and appreciate everything he has ever done for me. Maybe I should tha—

"Thank you."

She tore her eyes away from her yellow milk carton to look at her father quizzically with her head slightly tilted to the side.

"What," she whispered, her mouth suddenly going dry.

"Thank you," he repeated with a soft smile as he continued to meet her troubled glance.

His soft gaze comforted her and she immediately felt her tense body relax at the suddenly bright atmosphere. Her beautiful (e/c) eyes were no longer holding their dull shade but were now brighter than any star in the galaxy. His wife had the same starry-eyed look growing up, her own eyes always seemed to emit pure innocence the way her gorgeous smile did. She was like no woman ever to exist; her beauty so incomprehensible that bystanders would be forced to stop and stare in wonder at her absolutely perfect complexion, her personality almost nearly as bright as her giving soul, and most of all the pureness of heart she had was admired by all, so much so where not even the most pessimistic person in the world could hate her. However, growing up, the (e/c) eyed quirk wielder had not seen much of her mother as she tended to be rather busy with her rapidly increasing popularity. It was not unusual for her to see the woman's gleaming face featured on a variety of magazines, recognized by numerous model agencies, or even approached for roles in the movie industry all the while managing to withhold the title she strived for as an early teen. It was clear she had taken these roles to appease the public more than anything, not to boost her own morale. She was an idol at appearance but a lion at heart and no amount of publicity nor publication she was mentioned in could change her true intentions when she first embarked on her imprint on the world.

The girl shuffled slightly in her seat and attempted to calm her steadily increasing heart rate.

"Don't mention it," she nodded at her father after she cleared her throat uncomfortably, turning her gaze back to the road ahead of her as she tried to ignore the foreign feeling bubbling in her chest.

The male beside shook his head and turned his attention back to the open road, negating to see the slightly flustered look on her face.

As the duo began their journey to their new home, a comfortable silence befell them. Her father had already pulled out of the driveway and lead their soft gazes to gawk at the familiar scenery that sped by quickly. Every bit of the town had seemed foreign as they watched their entire livelihoods escaped through your fingers like sand, longing memories slowly passing them by. It was not an intolerable fate of course but the pain lingered.

"This is it," her father took a breath, glancing at his daughter who was staring out of the window, "are you ready to start your new life in Masutafu, (Y/N)?"

The girl kept her eyes fixated on the moving scenery beside her that she almost didn't hear her father's smooth voice tingle her ears. She was too busy thinking of her new life. Who she would meet, what her education would be like if she would actually become a hero; all of these thoughts made her feel small but excited at the same time. It was a lackluster endeavor to put oneself down but that was all the girl knew. No matter how much someone would talk her up, she would remain reluctant to listen. Nothing in her life mattered more than living up to her promise. She promised to become the best hero in the world and that was what she was going to do.

"Hell yeah I am."

—

I don't know what the hell I doing. I hope you enjoy the story so far, beautiful! :]