INFINITY

Chapter 2

warning : there will be spoilers
in the starting chapters only.
and the chapters will be long,
almost longer than 5k words.

word count : 5164

none of her memories are clear.

she don't know why, but everything is blurry.

y/n remember everything, she can tell almost everything. how she used to live, what was life like before Aizawa adopted her.

however, for some reasons, everytime she tries to remember the memories clearly, there's always a blurry side to them.

almost like as if there's someone who don't want her to remember anything that happened.

but why would someone do that?

and what's the point is she remembered everyone's name and what they did.

that small village, those everyday people , that biggest apple tree of the village, how she used to plcuk apples from it. her mom, dad, friends, and Shoyo sensai.

the countryside peeks up from her green quilts into the springtime blue-white heavens. it glows green in the light of a bright sun.the sight before her expands her lungs, raising up land that is her glowing skin.

in this expanse of green there are more hues than anyone has ever named, yet here they are for any eye to see. The land rolls as it always has, as if it feels that time and space are one thing, that it rolls through the ages as much as to the horizon. Over it is laid a path, one that branches through the open landscape, and as I begin to walk there is a frisson of joy for all the choices to come, each one of them laden with discoveries.

the countryside beckoned.

Today was a day of sunshine and rambling for y/n , she plucked all the Apple's from the biggest tree around and shoved them inside her bag. the girl was now five years old, that means she did had quirk for almost two years now. the sunshine was brilliant but not yet with the heat of late spring. the fields were no longer swathes of rutted mud, each one was softly verdant, the new stems ruffled by the light breeze.

the hills rolled like a casually laid eiderdown quilt, rising and falling in soft waves. y/n walked up the muddy path, intentionally jumping. the air had more warmth and more fragrance. the music to meet her ears was an auditory painting from the winged artists as they called, sung and raised their new families in the treetops.

the life in this village far away from those big skyscrapers of the developed country was rather peaceful. the dip and sway of the land, the patterns and species of flora, the every changing sky and wind. every day was a new snapshot in time, for even this one place, this view from one fine oak tree on a hill, could never be exactly the same two days in a row. little by little the seasons would bring changes. river's mind wandered back to the far away city, his home, it had its rhythms too: the start and ending of school years, the vacations of summer and the winter festival.

the little girl walked in her own rhythm. the walk from that biggest tree around to her house was of hardly ten minutes or maybe fifteen. she took a playful turn of three sixty degree, talking to herself, maybe it was a song she was singing.