Please Kill Me

Prologue

I lived in a superhuman society, where a majority of the population are born with some kind of superpower, which we call quirks. But things weren't always this way.

Quirks appeared suddenly one day, with the appearance of "the glowing baby." But soon other's born with quirks began to appear.

I was one of those "lucky" ones born with a quirk, however, until about a decade ago I believed I was quirkless.

I couldn't have been happier about that fact, I didn't want a quirk at all. I was born in a time, where quirks were a new and scary part of society. People with quirks were feared and ostracized by society in an attempt to protect the "normal" people. And me, I simply wanted to live my life; go to school, get a job, fall in love, get married, have kids, and one day die.

And that's exactly what I did.

I finished school, becoming a licensed psychologist, fell in love, got married, had two beautiful children, and eventually retired.

I had lived a good life, I was content, I was ready to go.

But I opened my eyes again, and that wasn't supposed to happen.

I moved my arms, struggling to raise them because of the various hospital machines I was attached to. I yanked the cords, wincing in pain as I pulled my IV out of my arm. Blood ran down my hand, but I paid it no mind, my eyes glued to my small, pale, and delicate hands.

I touched my arms in disbelief, feeling my silky smooth skin.

My skin no longer clung to my bones, worn with age, and my hands were quick, bending and flexing with ease.

I swung my legs out of bed, my eyes widening. My legs were free of any marks, looking young and completely healthy. I shook my head in complete awe and disbelief.

I shuffled towards the edge of my bed, slowly allowing my bare feet to touch the floor. The ceramic tile felt cold, causing me to curl my toes. Slowly, I raised myself to my feet, gasping when I realized I was able to hold my own body weight.

I stood there, completely frozen in shock. I had been bedridden for a long time, how was this possible?!

A scream came from behind me, causing me to quickly whirl around to find the source of the shout.

It was my nurse, she stood in the doorway, her brown eyes wide with fear and her hands covering her mouth in shock.

"Who are you?!" She yelled, terrified. "Where is Mrs. Kawasaki?!"

I tilted my head in confusion, answering truthfully. "It's me dear, I'm right here."

I flinched, covering my mouth with one hand. What was wrong with my voice? Why did it sound so... Young?

The nurse backed away, her body trembling. "That isn't possible! Mrs. Kawasaki is-! She's... She's dead!"

"No," I argued, stepping towards her. "It's me, Chiyo dear, Hisa Kawasaki."

She only looked more terrified when I mentioned her name, stepping back again. "How do you know my name?!"

I took a deep breath, giving her a soft smile. "You're my nurse, Chiyo. You have a boyfriend named Haruki and a cat named Hans which you talk about constantly. You love animated movies, takoyaki, and eating ice cream. And you always wear the green scarf I knitted for you when it gets cold in the winter. But most importantly of all, you have been my caretaker for five years."

Chiyo dropped to the floor, tears spilling from her eyes.

I stumbled towards her, extremely unsteady on my feet. But I made it over to her, trapping her in a hug.

"Mrs. Kawasaki..." She cried, holding onto me.

I comforted her, rubbing her back in small circles. "It's alright dear, I'm right here."

"Mrs. Kawasaki..." She cried again. "What happened to you? I saw you die... How is this possible?"

I gave her a puzzled expression and she began digging through her pocket, pulling out her phone. She unlocked it, opening the camera app in selfie mode and passing it to me. I took the phone from her, dropping it in shock when I saw my own face.

My wrinkles were completely gone, my skin was practically glowing with youth. My once thinning dark blue hair was full, coming down to just above my shoulders. My ruby red eyes, which had been clouded by age were clear and bright.

In short, I looked exactly the same as when I was a teenager.

My mind was racing.

How was this possible? This shouldn't be possible. I remembered going to sleep, not expecting to ever wake up again. But here I was, staring back at a face I hadn't seen in decades.

I couldn't handle it anymore.

I blacked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After regaining consciousness I was subjected to a plethora of tests. I was poked, and prodded, constantly being asked questions by several doctors I had never seen before. My identity had to be verified as well because I was well over ninety years old, but stuck in the body of a teenager.

But even after days of testing and examination, I had very few answers.

"You were diagnosed around the time quirks began to manifest," One doctor began explaining. "However, it appears that you are not quirkless."

"So this," I sighed, gesturing to myself. "Was caused by my quirk?"

"It appears so," The doctor nodded, glancing at his clipboard. "But we are uncertain about the nature of your quirk, we haven't seen anything like it before."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well it's hard to tell what exactly your quirk does," He explained. "It could be a type of extreme regeneration quirk, or a quirk that can turn back time on your body, but there is no way to be certain, testing this kind of quirk could be dangerous."

I sighed, my shoulders sagging as I laid in my hospital bed. "So what do I do now?"

The doctor scratched his head. "Well, I can't tell you what to do with your life, but you're perfectly healthy. You could leave this care facility and start working again if you wanted to."

"I suppose I better brush up on my medical textbooks," I chuckled. "And visit my family, this is sure to be a shock."

The doctor smiled. "Whatever you decide to do, I wish you the best of luck, Mrs. Kawasaki. You'll have a new ID sent to you shortly, and as for your quirk, I wouldn't reveal the true nature of it until we can find out more about it."

And so, I did exactly what I said I would. I brushed up on my knowledge of psychology, researching how the field had changed since my retirement thirty years ago. Additionally, I think I became the first person to ever leave an end-of-life care facility without, you know, dying.

When I left, I felt a plethora of conflicting emotions.

Of course I was ecstatic to be able to see my children again, to be able to walk, run, eat, and talk the way I used to. But I also felt guilty, like I somehow cheated death when I wasn't supposed to.

For the moment, I decided to be grateful I was able to live again.

But I soon realized how tragic and painful living was.

~~Present Day~~

A/N

Feel free to let me know what you guys think in the comments. Depending on the response and how I feel I might continue with this.