Shattered Reflection (MHAXOC)

1. Hunger

This story will involve talk about abuse, eating disorder and underage drinking (she'll be at least 17) so please if you are sensitive to any of this please do not read. You have been warned!

By the way she 11 years old for the first couple chapter

March 9th, 2057

12:23

I didn't know how long it had been. A week, maybe two days, perhaps even two weeks. Time had blurred into a fog of indistinguishable moments, each one a mirror of the last. The days and nights melted together, an endless stretch of grey. I had lost count of how many sunrises I had seen through that small vent in the wall, how many sunsets had passed without the relief of a small meal. My stomach growled with the familiar and gnawing pain of hunger, a constant reminder of my dwindling strength.

Each pang was sharper than the last, carving deeper into my consciousness. My thoughts were consumed by the singular, maddening desire for a piece of bread. It didn't matter if it were a lavish loaf filled with sumptuous fillings or the hard, dry end of a stale baguette. The fantasy of food haunted me, a cruel specter that danced just out of reach. 

In the end, I was too hungry to care. The relentless gnawing in my stomach had hollowed out any remaining semblance of morality or fear. My vision was blurred, and my limbs felt like lead, but the bright white light of the Seven Eleven at the end of the street became my only beacon of hope in an otherwise hopeless world.

I leaned against the wall, each step a Herculean effort, pushing onwards. The thought of the massive quantities of food, lined up in neat rows just waiting to be picked up, spurred me on. The possibility of nourishment, however slim, was all that kept my legs moving. My mind was a foggy wasteland, but the singular focus on that store cut through the haze.

As I neared the store, desperation twisted my thoughts into dark, furtive plans. How could I take the food without being caught? 'I'll have to use my quirk,' I thought, the words echoing hollowly in my mind. I stood outside the sensor-operated doors, the hum of the fluorescent lights above a cruel mockery of warmth and comfort. The worker on shift was absorbed in their phone, blissfully unaware of my presence. It would make things easier.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated with every ounce of my remaining strength. The world around me began to change, the relentless flow of time decelerating to a near standstill. I felt it, the familiar sensation of everything slowing down, each sound stretching into a drawn-out echo, each movement becoming a slow-motion ballet. The speeding driver behind me, who had been a blur of motion, now crawled forward slower than a pace of a snail.

I opened my eyes, marvelling at the transformed scene. Drops of liquid, once cascading quickly into a girl's mouth, now inched towards her tongue with agonizing slowness. The bubbles in a nearby soda floated lazily to the surface, suspended in a surreal dance. My breath, normally a rapid rhythm, was now a series of deep, deliberate pulls and releases.

"It worked," I whispered to myself, a faint smile spreading across my lips. The practice had paid off, manifesting my quirk in a moment of dire need. The amazement briefly dulled the edges of my hunger, giving me a fleeting sense of empowerment. But the reality of my situation quickly reasserted itself, and I turned my attention back to the task at hand.

Walking into the store, I grabbed anything that looked even remotely appetizing. My small hands were soon filled with sushi, mochi, onigiri, and Takoyaki. The sheer quantity of food felt surreal, like a dream I might wake from at any moment. But it wasn't just the food—I began piling drinks into my arms as well, until the heap nearly obscured my vision. My heart raced with a blend of exhilaration and fear, the adrenaline giving me a fleeting sense of strength.

Treading forward carefully, my focus entirely on balancing my precious cargo, I failed to notice the figure ahead. Without warning, I collided with something solid and went sprawling to the floor. My face planted into the pile of packaged food, some of it now ruined and scattered around me.

"Hey! Where'd you come from, kid?" A black-haired man loomed above me, reaching down with a look of surprise and concern.

Panic surged through me as I realized my quirk had deactivated in the shock of the fall. The speeding car from before was now a distant memory, and I was left exposed and vulnerable in the harsh, glaring light of the store.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, my mind racing. I scrambled to pick up a random package from the mess, my thoughts a frantic blur. 'He knows I was trying to steal. He must have seen everything!'

Desperation took hold, a cold, unrelenting grip on my chest. I pushed myself to my feet, legs trembling with the effort. I bolted, trying to make a getaway with my weakened limbs barely supporting my weight. My breath came in ragged gasps, each step a monumental struggle. The food and drinks in my arms felt heavier with each passing second, dragging me down.

"Hey, wait!" the man called after me, but I couldn't stop. I wouldn't stop. The shame, the hunger, the sheer will to survive propelled me forward, even as my vision swam and my body threatened to collapse. The world around me blurred, the lights of the store becoming streaks of white against the encroaching darkness at the edges of my vision.

My lungs burned, and my muscles screamed in protest, but I forced myself onward. Each step felt like it could be my last, a desperate bid to escape the consequences of my actions. 

I ran another corner almost tripping, the cold night air hitting my flushed face like a slap. I clutched the stolen food to my chest, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm. Behind me, the shouts of the man faded, replaced by the oppressive silence and shadows of the night.

I didn't dare look back. Each step forward was an act of sheer will, driven by the need to survive to get back before they noticed I was gone. The world had reduced me to this—a desperate, starving child fleeing into the darkness, clutching a stolen meal as if it were my lifeline. The shadows swallowed me, and I ran, driven by hunger and fear, the weight of my actions heavy on my shoulders.

"Hey kid!" He shouted, it's sounded nearby and from the rush of loud footsteps behind me I could tell he was gaining up on me.

'Fuck!' I thought of trying to activate my quirk but it was no use. I was exhausted and the previous attempt had drained almost all my energy. 'If I get caught they'll kill me before the shipment date!' My eyes began to water as I slowed down. It was no help. I had chosen death the moment I crawled out that vent.

Tripping I clawed at the ground desperately trying to get up to get away. My tears wetting my face with their cold salty feeling.

"Hey kid don't worry I'm here to help." The man spoke as helped me up.

"I'm EraserHead, the pro hero."

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of my dire circumstances. "Get off of me!" I whined weakly kicking at his arms, my hands weakly attempting to push me out of his gasp though the feeble and embarrassing attempts to appeared futile against the overwhelming tide of exhaustion.

'A hero! A fucking hero!' I thought tears falling even worse than before now.

"Hey! Hey!" He shouted desperately as I tried to get up to run. I knew it was no use but I tried again desperately reaching inside of me for an ounce of power, my body screamed in protest as I felt the fatigue and hunger of the last few days finally set in. Despite my desperation I felt my body cave in on itself as I tried to push myself up again only to pass out on the stone cold pavement.

1949 words

Short first chapter but who cares the next one will make up for it. 

Hope you liked it so far :)