Prodigies - My Hero Academia

Stain: Origin

TW: themes of abuse, child labor, violence, implied gore

Wednesday, October 5, 20XX

With legs crossed and eyes closed, a young man meditates in a reposeful garden kissed by the setting sun. His figure is still, concentrating on the simple sounds of nature. Water trickles into a slice of bamboo, periodically clacking the bar of wood placed beneath it. Rich shades of green blanket the ground. Leaves of cadmium red cling to their branches while dancing with the soft breeze.

Although surrounded by this array of lively color, the young man is draped with a matte black kutsugi no sharegi (casual kimono). His dark, dense hair is pushed back and damp from bathing. Not a single strand is out of place. Slender jawline, prominent forehead, and wide cheekbones. His skin is clear and soft to the touch. Ring finger adorned by a golden band. Fukuda Kakuei, a patriarch corrupt by the vices of his elders.

Disrupting his meditation session is wholesome laughter. The audible joy carries through the field as a ball is kicked back and forth within a small group of boys. Not one of them had to be older than thirteen. Each member of the group is still wearing their hakamas, unbothered by dirt layering the formal attire. Dirtying such clothing would typically be shameful, but who is to stop them when no guardian is present? The boys graduated into combat training earlier this evening after all, so celebrating this lifetime devotion to serve and protect the estate is only rational. 

Charging at the ball, a boy swings his leg with an exceptional amount of force. The toy inevitably flies over their heads, bouncing several meters away. Sighs, whines, and gasps circulate the group before another fledged warrior from the pack volunteers to retrieve it. His feet hit soft soil, swiftly cutting through the open field ahead.

Luckily the ball landed just below a patch of brush. Falling to his knees, the boy extends an arm out to reach then recover. A small smile curves his lips while standing straight and tucking the ball between his elbow and torso. From his perspective, this is a fine victory. However, his smile is quick to drop when a seated figure comes into view.

Passing by on the paved path that separates the field from the garden is two girls cloaked in yukatas of gray and white. Aprons synching their waists and hair tied back, their uniforms are simplistic and clean. The younger girl of the pair carries a basket of crane feed, struggling to hold it up to her chest. Shifting her weight to get a firm grasp on the basket rim, she is sent into shock when seeing a boy spying from the edge of the garden. Her fear for him goes without words, so instead she gasps.  

"What are you doing?" The younger girl whispers.

"Don't stare!" The older girl hastily whispers, not giving him a chance to respond. To her annoyance, her instruction is heard, but not followed. The boy peers back at the sitting figure, no better than a deer in headlights. 

Enoshima Sana, born without a functioning left eye, was sold into servitude after being deemed commercially useless by her guardians. A Fukuda elder remarried to an Enoshima woman, allowing her extended family to move onto the estate and pull weight as a glorified quirkless branch. With a disability such as Anophthalmia, however, she was stripped of the right to claim the name. Her relatives live lavish and carefree while her purpose is to serve. 

Stepping off the path, she reaches out to grab the boy's shoulder and turn him around.

He fumbles, dropping the ball. "I'm sorry." Eyes squint and jaw clench when he is hushed by the girls, forcing him to whisper. "Who is that?"

Eye to eye, they stand in brief silence. He studies this strange girl, forgetting about the ball that rolls further away and the sitting figure he referred to. The curve of her jawline, bangs that desperately need a trim, and tawny skin. Even with an eyepatch, her distaste for his utter cluelessness is clear. Parting his lips to speak again, he is appalled to witness her release his shoulder fall back in fear. Her upper-body arches down towards the ground in a low bow.