Fat. Beautiful. Tasty. Ravenous.

Epilogue

"So you can't be afraid of your quirk," I say, speaking to a small group of children with ages ranging from six to ten, "You have to embrace it and understand that it's a part of you. Yes, you are capable of doing things that can hurt people but I promise you that your quirk can help so many more with the proper training. And that's what we're here to do."

Looking around, I see fearful eyes that are starting to show the smallest hints of hopefulness.

"I won't give up on you all. I won't call you a monster. I won't write you off. You're not alone. Both Eri and I also struggled to control our quirks once. We know what you're going through and the fear you feel."

The kids in front of me nod, their hope seeming to grow. Many of them have gloves on, some are wearing specialized glasses, one even has almost all of his body covered save for his face.

All of these kids either have, or have come close to, hurting someone with their quirks. They've come to me in desperation and I'm here to help them control their quirks; along with the help of Eri, and in extreme cases, Shota.

This is what I chose to move on to after retiring from modeling.

I teach quirk rehabilitation to children after the school day is over. Sorta like a cram school. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I teach younger kids and Tuesdays and Thursdays, I teach the older children up to age 18.

I've been doing this for nearly eight years now and have helped countless kids reconnect not only with the people around them, but themselves. I've never felt more fulfilled in my life.

I also still occasionally take on aspiring models to coach, having finally come to terms with the fact that I don't completely hate that industry after all. What can I say? Maybe I really do enjoy mentoring.

After dismissing my class, I turn to Eri now. She's nearly 18 and is scaring the hell out of Shota now that she's going to graduate high school and become a full-fledged support hero when thai school year is over..

"Thank you for your hard work today, Eri." I smile at her, taking the six-month-old baby she's been holding for most of the class from her and setting her at my hip.

"It's not a problem, Aikonee-chan" She grins back, tucking long silver strands of hair behind her ear, "Tamako-chan is a sweetheart."

Tamako laughs, her tiny dark blue wings (those that match her hair— we're not sure where that color came from) flapping excitedly as she waves at the retreating girl.

"Zawatou-chan says he can come visit this weekend if you want."

"That would be great," I tell her, "Tell him I'll cook dinner."

When Eri has gone, I set Tamako on my lap while I go through a few of the papers the children have filled out, explaining what they're hoping to achieve by the end of the class. It makes my heart ache that so many of them say something as simple as "I want to be able to play tag with my friends." or "I want to hug my mom."

I understand those feelings so well...

I hear small feet thudding down the hall and stand when my door slides open.

"Mama!" a four-year-old with light blonde pig-tails launches herself at my legs and hugs me fiercely.

"Aiya," I laugh, laying a hand on her head, "Not so rough. You'll knock me over."

And she will if I'm not careful. She's done it before. She's got the strength of her father, I swear.

"Nii!" Tamako cries, making grabby hands at the stoic seven-year-old standing in the doorway, "Nii! Nii!"