If I Had One Wish

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

Take a trip with me for a minute here, let's skip the usual flashback beginning. It'll do some good, trust me. Let's walk away from the two boys getting ready to take the trip back to reality after jogging through memory lane.

Who am I, you may wonder. I have watched you observe the story of these to tragic lovers, given you obvious hints to what lies further down the line for them. I have shown you the world around them, things they haven't seen. I have told you how mother earth shed tears when they first kissed, I have been in the shadows of their treacherous slow burn. Maybe I am selfish with my eagerness to show you what lies ahead, or maybe I am preparing you.

So who am I? That's all perspective, isn't it? This whole battle they face, life, it's perspective. It's been a growing theme in this little anecdote of a romance.

But where are my manners? You're waiting to find out who I am and why I intervened in this summary of the life of two incorrigible rivaling teenagers. You may see me as the air you exhale in the snow, or the street you walk upon on your route back home. You might even see me as the breeze between trees when summer is nearing its end or the feeling of a hug when you pull away. I am the natural way of life, endings and beginnings. An ongoing circle, much like my heart,

Where humans are a line, reaching an end, I am but a circle intertwining into itself. A never ending cycle.

I am not a long cloak with a scythe, though that idea does amuse me. Where did the scythe come into play? Humans and their myths, it's a beautiful thing to witness. No, I'm something else entirely.

See, I met these two boys on a trip of mine. Picking up souls is a tiring thing for someone to do multiple times a day, it could be seen as a curse to some but to me it's simply a job. I saw Izuku Midoriya first, many years before I met the blonde he was known to follow, he was a troublesome child. His teacher was right when he called him a problem child because he was. At his core he was an unlucky soul.

As someone who collects souls after their long, or oftentimes short, lives you prefer to keep to yourself. Watching the living is not something that is amusing, especially when you know that at one point or another you'd be back to collect their last dying breath from their lungs.

Depressing, I know, which is why it's better to not know the backstory behind the soul's life. To be unaware that there might have been a lover they left, or children or even if they ended up dying completely and utterly alone. There are rarely happy deaths, few are prepared to leave behind their lives for they are certain there is unfinished business to be dealt. Others fear what's beyond the living, while there are some souls who know what's to come to them. Hell, sometimes when I collect a soul they sit up right and greet me, as if saying "I'm ready, though I wish I had more time, I'm ready."

I had been watching the sky, I remember the exact colour of it as if it were yesterday. You'd say it'd be silly to remember such a thing but it was during an eclipse. Everyone was inside their homes, as if afraid that looking right at the wondrous spectacle would hurt them bodily. All but one little boy, unaware of the consequences or maybe he was and didn't care. Either way he was there, his presence was strikingly familiar but I didn't quite notice it yet.

I was watching the sky darken from the light blue to a dark muddy orange, the equivalent of soup. Muddy homemade soup, a comforting yet startling colour for a sky to be. I have been around for years, I have seen countless eye catching phenomena that the world conjures up on it's own but it was something about this eclipse that caught my eye as well. Something in the way the sun peeked past the moon's shadow in a ring of gold.