⊱ ━.⋅ space girl ⋅.━⊰ urarakaxoc<3

one | fairy

My name is Kasami Otagata. I am a first year at UA high, and today just so happens to be my first day. I'm sure I could sound more excited, but that's not exactly the emotion I'm feeling at the moment. Sure, it's the number one hero academy in Japan, but to me it's nothing but a mere step on my journey to become one of the best heroes this world has ever seen.

I never wanted to be a hero. My mother however, she was the hero I never knew I needed. My father left before I was born, but even so, she filled both roles effortlessly. I may be biased because she is my mother, but that woman was incredible, inside and out. Her quirk was spirit conjuring, which allowed her to contact and conjure spirits from the dark world and use their quirks to enhance her own strength as well as intelligence.

Quirks are an interesting concept, to say the least. Only a part of the population is born with one, and out of those who are, only a few are blessed with quirks useful enough to make a real change. On the other side of that however, quirks can make powerful villains. Between the frustration and anger of being wronged or cast out, and a quirk powerful enough to act on those emotions, it makes for a real recipe for disaster.

My mother worked next to pro hero Midnight, growing up. Midnight is my godmother, as she was always around when my mother could not be. Whether that be because she was on a mission or just patrol, Midnight was there.

One night, my mother set off for a mission that dealt with the League of Villains. She was dreading it all week, and every day leading up to it she reminded me how much she loved me.

She told me that Midnight would not be able to make it over to watch me, because she was needed on the same mission, so I was supposed to watch myself.

I nodded and gave her a tight hug as she kissed me softly on the forehead. I told her I loved her as she walked out of the door, and before driving off she blew a kiss and said the same.

"Goodbye my little fairy." She said, stepping into the drivers side of her dark red sports car.

"Bye mom."

*If you would like the full experience, play "Class of 2013 by Mitski" during this time.*

I always did love that nickname. My mother gave it to me when I turned 6, because my quirk had just developed, and I began floating out of my bed as she was reading me a bedtime story.

She decided on fairy because she said the way my hair floated reminded her of a fairy's wings. I'll never forget it.

After she left for the mission, I sat down on the soft black couch that sat in the middle of our painting-covered living room, and turned on the television.

My mother was doing a rescue mission against the league. They captured pro hero Outtake, who specialized in close range fighting, due to his robotic arm.

Everything was going smoothly as far as I could tell, so I decided to take a quick nap, and I set my alarm to wake me up right before the mission broadcast was over.

About an hour later, I woke up to sounds of screaming and desperate crying. As I rubbed my eyes and stretched out my arms, my eyes caught a glimpse of what was on the screen.

It was my mother. She was laid on the ground, Midnight holding her head between her hands. There was no blood, so I assumed she passed out from exhaustion. But that was not the case.

She was decaying. Her body was breaking away in small pieces like shreds of paper. She was slipping away, and I couldn't even be there to hold her hand as she left.

I was in disbelief. I dropped onto my knees, and the floor felt as if it would collapse at any moment. The air was crushing my lungs as I gasped desperately for air, and my eyes were filled with tears.

This isn't fair.

The mission was a success.

So why is she dying?

Why can't she be happy?

Both questions for which I had no answer. As the wheels turned rapidly in my head, my eyes remained locked on the screen.

Then, almost as if she saw me, my mother looked directly to the camera and spoke.

"Be strong, my fairy. Stronger than me. Do what I never could."

And with one last tear falling from her eyes, she was gone, and she shut her eyes for the last time.

That was it.

My mother was gone.

The one person in this world that I still had.

Why does everyone leave me?

It was then that I could no longer keep my composure. Something inside me was unleashed, and suddenly it felt as if my whole body was on fire.

As tears rushed down my face like burning waterfalls, I released the fiery feeling, and I screamed. I screamed until my throat gave out, until I could no longer hear myself.

All the while, my fits of anger caused destruction all throughout my childhood home. Weirdly, I felt no guilt for the chaos I was causing.

This was no longer home.

I had my home, and I lost her.

This was just a useless place, filled with the bodies of empty voices, and broken memories of her. Reminders that nothing is permanent. Reminders that nothing stays forever.

I threw balls of fiery black magic all around the room, breaking plates and tables, and smashing the collected paintings my mother placed in the living room.

None of this mattered.

Nothing, but her.

The black flames engulfed the carpets, the cream-colored walls, and most importantly, my mind. I could feel the dark smoke clouding my judgement, and yet I could not care less.

I was an empty child, in an empty house, with an empty heart and an even emptier mind. There were no subsequent thoughts in my head, just smoke and fire. And anger. A burning anger scorched the back of my brain with frustration, and my body cried out for help. I knew I was over-exerting myself and yet, I couldn't stop. My eyes grew weary and lungs burned and still I continued burning every last memory I ever made in that house, because the only important memory I had left, had vanished.

Finally, my voice went silent and my legs gave out, as I dropped to the ground, my knees getting covered in broken glass as the cuts seeped with warm scarlet-colored blood. The cuts got deeper and more painful as I allowed myself to sink deeper onto the floor, knees growing weaker with each adjustment. The glass covered my bloodied knees like sprinkles covering a strawberry cupcake in my early childhood. The only defining difference was, they had none of the same sweetness. I didn't get the warm feeling I felt when mom and I visited the pier bakery two summers ago, and I definitely didn't feel as happy.

I was warm, but now I was warm with blood, and anger. It was a disgusting warmth, and it introduced a hatred for the feeling altogether. I wanted to feel sad, I wanted to scream again, but my lungs had almost disappeared completely. I should have cried more, should have been angrier. Maybe if I tried a little harder my emotions could do my mother justice, because life alone could not.

I've never been enough for anyone to stay. My father left us at a young age, all because he found a new family, and we weren't enough for him anymore. All the promises he made to me meant nothing, as I meant nothing to him.

The universe decided that I wasn't enough for my mother either, because they took her from me as well. I wanted nothing more than to be enough for someone, anyone, and I never have been. And honestly, I may never be. And as angry as I wanted to feel, as sorry as I wanted to be for myself in that moment...

..I felt nothing.

I was numb.

And as I sat, covered in blood and exhausted in a dark, disfigured room, I finally realized something that would change my life forever.

No matter how good of a person you are, or how pure your soul, happy endings are not promised.