[OLD] Caffeinated Coffee

11. The Little White Lies (are all turning grey)

When Kusuo was four . . .

"Thanks for going grocery shopping with me!" his mom said.

. . . he received his quirk.

Yes, the boy was four and therefore should talk to and interact with other people his age to grow and develop properly (at least in the social aspect of growth), but that was never his forte. His parents didn't seem to mind that he would prefer to watch cartoons than talk to other people, even them at times. Maybe it was because his older brother, Kusuke, was similar to him in that area. They often liked to tell them that they used to be worried about Kusuke when he hated talking to others his age, but soon that passed when they learned about his astonishing intelligence.

This was one such time he decided to tag along with his mother to help with errands. Well, that and the cable guy was at the house, and he didn't want to be around a new person intruding in his area of peace. Well, that and his mom didn't want a four-year-old home alone while a possible stranger was in said house anyway.

. . . speaking of which, why did she leave the cable guy in their house alone while they were out grocery shopping? Did she trust people that much that—

Kusuo could see shelves that were very tall, filled with snacks that caught his purple eyes. He stopped and stared. What to ask for? He loved sweets with a passion. One of the positives of going to the store is to take stock of the inventory and see if there was anything new for him to ask for.

Kusuo walked to the aisle, unknowing that his mom was too engrossed in a sale to pay attention. Another positive was that Kusuke was out doing . . . whatever Kusuke does when he's alone so the decision was all his and his alone. His brother can just try to take his sweets. Bounded by blood or not, he will drain said blood if he so much as attempted to steal his snacks.

Kusuo rolled on the balls of his feet and peeked. He could see something new and intriguing. He couldn't see the entire label, but it looked good enough to want to eat. His eyes widened from their usual neutral state—which was saying something. Eating something yummy and sweet always brought a feeling of contentment. His parents said he had a certain face on him and that was probably true since Kusuke would immediately leave the room (or house, depending on his mood that day) because he was so deep into his little world when eating. They also said he's been like that since he's been in the womb, poking through his mom's stomach when she was eating something sweet, and yeah, that fact alone creeped him out for a good day.

But anyway, I want it, he thought. He stretched his arms above his head, trying to reach a packaged box above his head but to no avail. He frowned. His parents also said when he was annoyed he had a certain face that deterred anyone from approaching him.

Good, he thought again. He wouldn't want anyone to come to his aid anyway. He would just . . . try to get it himself. He didn't even know what it was, he just knew that he wanted it.

So like any rational four-year-old, he started to climb the shelf.

It did cross his mind that was he was doing was a bad idea. It crossed his mind exactly seven times, which was seven more times than the number of times it would cross any other four-year-old, so at least that was something.

It reared its head when he slipped. It was rather unfortunate because he was almost within reaching distance of what he wanted and to get so far and then start to fall was nothing short of a tragedy in his mind. Truly.

It was also a tragedy because, well, it caused trouble for his mother.

Speaking of her, she screeched and he was around halfway to the floor. For some reason, Kusuo was more concerned about the loss of a potential new favorite dessert over his well-being. And doesn't that say a lot about the young child?