Chapter Text
'The minds of the weak are always belittled and abused by those who find themselves superior. However, are they truly superior, or are those below them just too afraid of themselves to step forward?'
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Rumors always worked themselves through any society as fast a plague, spreading faster than you could hope to catch the words as they leave your lips. There were always old wives' tales about the outskirts of the cities, how the societies there were more broken than the world would like to acknowledge, or that they were always members of some sort of occult.
Well, they weren't too far off. At least, not according to my older brother.
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The quiet was always a rarity in the outskirts, so much so that even the slightest moment of peace would make all hairs stand on end. Violence was a form of peace to them, the look of decay in their eyes would be enough to shatter the will of even the strongest man. The men who ruled over this abolished society created lives to which their followers were abused and yet, still admired them blindly. A sick, near about form of Stockholm Syndrome that held hundreds of men, women, and children in their grasp.
War and hatred became almost as honest as those in the "holy churches" and the confessionals located inside them. Moments of clarity are almost an immediate effect of the crimes, giving a high to those who endure the pain.
These were the members of The Feared. People who terrorized the citizens of the outskirts, if you could even really call them people, worked to do nothing more than create horror in the lives of those around them, and create a sort of dread that nobody could escape from. However, more than half of these creatures, built up from horror and bloodshed, embraced the forceful behavior and interpreted it into their own lives.
Families became less and less about their own biological connection, and more of who would stick around. The longer these times went on, the harder it was to trust anyone, so those who you could get close to, you either got betrayed by them, or they would disappear in the night.
And that's where the story of my family begins.. Or rather, ends.
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Years ago, these sorts of "powers" emerged into the world, either bringing chaos or comfort to those around them. Most of them found themselves with unique enhancements to their physical form, allowing them to become a force to be reckoned with, using their strength to protect. Other were made aware that they were blessed with academic or psychological advancements that stunned the world and jumped society many years into the future. Even a few members of the worldwide population became an "abnormal" few who came to have no changes to their evolution at all. However, the ones that put fear into the hearts of those in the world, who forced the heroes to emerge in the world, were the ones who used their gifts against the greater good. Or better yet, for their own greater good.
With this new state of the planet, individuals were either forming into society's mold or breaking it entirely, countries and laws became divided amongst one another, exceptions being created for those who could 'turn themselves around'. My family could be considered part of the latter group mentioned.
My mother and father were the result of the generation before the change started, neither of them having any sort of abilities, they were taught to fear those who had them. I suppose my grandparents never truly trusted those who were different and ruled this everlasting hatred into my parents that bred nothing but abuse into their children. My elder brother, Ichiro, he was just one of the normal people that was lucky enough to live a decent life, suffering the abuse that I rightly deserved.
My family raised us in the outskirts of the accepted, allowing their own negativity to grow and thrive as they tried with their every last breath to drill their beliefs into my brother and I. Surrounded by questionable people, watching friends or people we considered to be family slowly disappear or die off, either dragged into cartels or gangs, or maybe just a single crime gone bad, or they got picked up by the police forces and placed into custody. All I wanted was to get out. To be free of the ridicule and the suffering made to please those who thought themselves to be above me.
Now, as time showed, you just waited to see what you could do, and for me, dreading every waking moment that the day grew closer, unknowing of just what the next day was to bring. Would there ever be a gift? Or would I be normal like my brother? I hoped and nearly prayed for that, an easy life, one that would keep my parents just satisfied enough to stop with the pain they inflicted on us.
The year I turned 6 years old, my parents had disappeared around the bend, doing god knows what, leaving my brother to watch me and a few of the neighborhood kids who tried our hardest to stay as naive as we could to the warzone we lived in. He was 5 years my elder, so he always seemed slightly irritated when he was told he had to watch me or the other younger kids in our collect- though secretly, I think he always liked the distraction of having something else to focus other than the destruction that continued all around us.
Playing around in a game of tag, we laughed- quietly enough as to not cause trouble, but loud enough to echo around the walls of the alleyways we chased each other in. Only a handful of us were out and about that afternoon, and my parents had rounded their way back into the neighborhood.
My eyes missed a crack in the concrete, and I slipped forward a little too far. A stupid mistake - one wrong foot placement, a slip of the hand - and just like that, my life was over.
I tripped over my own two feet, knocking into one of the other kids and accidentally scratching his arm with my fingernails, I continued to fall to my knees. But the boy, Kunio, seemed to freeze in his tracks. My brother stood up from where he sat off to the side, and his eyes widened slightly. Clenching my hands into fists and an attempt to push myself off the ground back to standing, a whimper reached my ears, forcing my head to snap upwards. Kunio, the boy older than me by almost a year, stood there almost hovering over the ground, his body contorted slightly, almost straining to stay upright. The lips of the other kids around us parted, almost quivering in shock, and I couldn't help but to do the same.
Standing upright in a swift movement, I noticed my parents standing beside the walls, and I moved my arms in an attempt to surrender in my position. At the time, I couldn't even fathom the terror they would inflict on me for even just a slight sense of some sort of power, but what happened next pushed those thoughts 40 times and then some. Shaking my hands beside my head we watch the young boy's body fly to the wall of the alleyway before he fell to the floor.
Time seemed to come to a halt, the world around me becoming a haze as my eyes focused on my surroundings, fearful and searching for some sort of answer until finally my eyes landed upon the small trace of skin and blood beneath my fingernails, and I felt my heart stop, straining to start up again despite the anxiety that washed over me like the pounding waves at the end of a waterfall. My senses suddenly flooded back to the sounds of crying growing in the background, my head whipped to the side at the hard feeling of a hand stinging on the side of my cheek. Not more than a second later, the same hand was entangled into my short locks of burgundy hair, dragging me down the alley as my brother ran, screaming and following close behind.
The door slammed behind my mother, my father dragging my small frame behind him before he tossed me shamelessly to the floor. Before taking a breath, I felt the sharp heel of my mother's boots clip my ribcage, causing a wretched scream to pass my lips and echo within our walls. She only sneered down at me in response, her words burning harder than the stinging sensation that ran down my abdomen. "Worthless scum, you think you're better than us? We're going to teach you a lesson you won't ever forget."
Each time her foot came in contact with my body, I could feel myself becoming more and more numb to the consistent pain that flowed throughout my entire being. My father, I figured who had gotten annoyed with not being able to land a blow, picked out his knife and brought it to my cheek. A small flash appeared in his face, a look in his eyes showed a slight conscious in him, a confliction within himself, but it was obvious which side would get the best of him. He pushed the tip of the dulled, slightly rusted blade into my skin, slowly pulling his arm down. A blood curdling scream erupted from my throat as I felt the warm fluid pouring down my cheek and neck, the banging of the door on the other side of the room echoing as my brother's voice shouted in attempt to stop my parents.
Each mark my father made on me, his free hand holding tight onto my hair to hold my up by my head, caused more numbness to swell inside my body, until it felt like all logic and control over myself had given up. I allowed my body to go limp, hoping that would stop the continuing impacts that my mother and father made on me. Slowly, my attempt became successful, the time between blows alternating from the both of them eventually came to an end, where they opened the front door, leaving my small frame laying on the floor. Huddled into a ball, the sound of scuffling at the door echoes in my head.
The floor shook under my brother's harsh steps as he slipped past my parents, who shoved their way back out to the street, seeming unbothered by the assault on their child. Not that they cared, this is something they'd prepared themselves for.
My brother swiftly crouched to the floor, reaching his hand out to cradle my head, which at this point felt numb from the static pain writhing throughout my body. Nevertheless, he noticed a slight wince in discomfort when his fingertips touched my head. So instead, he sat there in silence, waiting for the limp form of mine to slowly force myself up. I did as such, groaning. I tortured myself, sitting up to flames of pain burning my muscles with a passionate, scalding heat. Quickly I felt the cool skin of Ichiro's hand pressed against my back, helping me adjust comfortably, allowing myself to slowly raise myself to a sitting position.
My body shivered in his embrace. Even though this wasn't a first, the strict discipline, or the comfort that my brother gave me afterwards, however my mind still couldn't help but yearn for the reassurance.
'It's not your fault..'
'You didn't deserve this..'
'You didn't know what was going to happen..'
'How was I to know..?'
Surely after this last occurrence, my family had proven to me their final straw of their tolerance, my living in their household would most likely not be allowed anymore. A rough chuckle barely passed through my lips, causing my brother to look down to me, a fearful and yet still caring look swam through his grey eyes. "It never really was our house, huh?"
Sorrowful eyes searched my own, a pitiful gaze that nearly shattered my already broken heart. My chest tightened, straining to breathe at that look. Ichiro parted his own lips to speak, but no words came out. Searching through the vast wasteland of his own mind, his wracked his brain for an answer, for any reason to give me so that I could hold onto the positive. And yet, with the look of his own battered soul showing up as charcoal specks in his already ashen-colored eyes, it was obvious that he unable to find one.
The wind blew roughly past the run-down house, which rattled at the tattered walls of now chipped wood and held together with scraps that my brother and I had found littered around the outskirts (we didn't want to admit that we'd taken them from houses that had been abandoned or just another thing broken in yet another gang dispute). The cool breeze flowed between the thin pieces of wood, now more accurately could be referred to as mere splinters holding the metallic roof up, hitting our bodies and making my brother curse beneath his breath. He'd always told me that he'd hated winter, I assumed it was because our parents were always leaving for days at a time, but as I slowly grew, I realized it was that we were left to fend for ourselves in a broken home, only now farther worn-out as the years went on.
The bitter air bit at our skin as the sun sunk behind the cityscape visible from our windows, the tall skyscrapers and buildings, bright lights and lively atmosphere only mocking us, stealing the only form of warmth and light that we were privileged enough to have. Once again, another positive taken, slipping through our fingers like water out the faucet. Only, instead it made me smile.
"We need to leave." My brother spoke softly, his black locks falling over his eyes, as they stared past me onto the ground. A forced calmness rested on his face, though I could tell by his hands, quivering anxiously as they rested on my back, informed me that deep down he felt otherwise. I couldn't even nod my head in response, the sound of the blood pumping echoing in my head was too loud, I forced myself to stay still. Instead, I gave him a look, my own blue eyes meeting his own, a faint pearl color as he tried to show me the remaining hope that he held close to his heart.
Finding understanding in my weary gaze, he moved me carefully, sitting me up against the wall while he grabbed a tattered bag. Shoving a couple pairs of clothes into it, he also made sure to grab a bundle of some cash that we had managed to gather up from a set of odd jobs around our neighborhood. He stared into a drawer he held open for a few more moments, a sharp sigh falling between his cracked lips before finally picking up whatever item was inside, shoving it to the bottom of the bag before setting it down.
Another small bag was pulled from the closet, and I forced a small smile, as he tended to a few minor cuts and bruises that were littered across my arms, torso, and legs. Finally reaching my head, he noticed the scar that traced diagonally from my eye to my cheekbone, and then down to my chin. A small growl of anger bubbled in his throat, and I forced a shake of my head. "It's not worth getting upset." The words fell across my tongue, followed closely by pained, hacking cough.
The look in Ichiro's eyes soon fell of their anger and faded to one of sorrow, though the scornful scowl held strong upon his lips. He shook his own head, his expression settling as he pulled out the materials he needed to help clean me up. An apologetic look was shot my way, and I couldn't help but feel my muscles tense up in preparation.
Much to my expectation, a cloth with rubbing alcohol was placed upon my skin, stinging at the touch, I almost was glad at the time that my body was too weak and sore to move away from the burning that spread through my cheek. Tears gathered along my lash line, clouding my vision and some even falling past my eyelids to run gently down my cheek. I was overwhelmed by this unbearable feeling, but soon as my brother continued cleaning the wound, it began to become an almost numbing sensation.
All while cleaning, small drips of blood continued to fall from the slash in my cheek, but my older brother pulled out a set of gauze, lightly wrapping it over my cheek and using some medical tape to hold it in place. He made sure to press lightly on the tape, making sure it held onto my skin, but trying his best to avoid causing me any further pain.
Once finished, he gently placed any remaining medical supplies back into our makeshift med-kit and stuffed in inside our bag. Throwing the thin fabric bag over his shoulders and securing it tightly, he stood to his feet. A swift huff exited his lips and he turned to me.
"Where are we going to go..?" I asked my brother, straining to lift my neck properly. Our eyes connected once more and I saw him glance off to the side before he cleared his throat. I was certain that this was more than he'd ever wanted to handle, causing a ball of guilt to form in the pit of my stomach, but I pushed that feeling farther down. Yes, the situation was bad, but I needed to be able to help him however I could. It was my fault that we were in this mess in the first place. My fault. Not his. "Will we go to the city..?"
Steel eyes snapped back to study my own. He always knew about my fascination with the city, it seemed like a fairytale that you could almost just touch, so plausible to the normal eye and yet, just out of reach. A form of worry flooded his face but soon simmered into a smile as he pulled the backpack off his shoulders. He then crouched to the floor, taking off the backpack, he pulled out the bundle of money, and a second container I hadn't seen before. My focus moved elsewhere, to the other side of the room, to the window facing the city.
So close yet so far. Even in the chaos of the forgotten citizens, the broken society, you could hear the city ruckus. The music that ran through the air, the sirens of police and the horns of cars honking at one another. It seemed oddly calming to me, a small child surrounded by the volume of terror surrounding our home, but a calming feeling nonetheless.
The sun continued to slip soundly behind the tall buildings that rest in the distance. 'How far is it, really?' I wondered, an echo through my head as I made a feeble attempt to estimate the distance between our crumbling home and the successful city beyond the skyline.
My brother's voice broke me from my trance, his eyes still sitting upon the money, spread over the floor as he had seemed to have been counting it. "Just enough.." The words fell from his lips, and a smile sweet as honey appeared upon his lips, followed by a snippet of a laugh before he covered his lips. Small traces of tears lined his eyes as he looked up to me. A proud look shone bright on his features before he pulled his hand down and threw all the money in the bag, once again placing it securely over his shoulders.
Leaning over, the boy picked me up, cradling my smaller frame in his arms before standing once again. "We're going to be safe, Aiko," he spoke softly as he made his way to the door, moving gently as to try his best not to cause any unintentional pain to my already irritated body. "We're going to have a better life. One we both deserve." He pushed the door open and stared towards the city, the setting sun falling behind the buildings, disappearing for the night. Relying on the moon to guide us towards our destination, I felt my consciousness slipping from my grasp as he whispered once more to me. "Quirk or no quirk, I'm going to keep you safe, I swear. Now.. Let's go make our own home."
And with that, the world surrounding me faded to black, all my senses collapsing into a fit of much needed rest.
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Thank you to everybody who took the time to read through the prologue of my new work! This is a MHA/BNHA fanfiction with my own OC. If you have any comments, please feel free to leave them as you see fit, constructive criticism is always welcomed. Please feel free to follow my page to get notifications for any further updates and stay informed. Please stay patient with me however, I am only starting to write again for the first time in a while, so my updates may be a little slow- but WORTH IT! I look forward to sharing my story with you all.
{Total Words: 3,475}