Ghost of Himself

Chapter Twelve

Point of View: Shota Aizawa 

   What makes a hero? Their drive to help or the unmatched potential of their quirk? When I was younger, I always wanted to believe that quirks wouldn't matter and that it was irrational to think that they would.

How Naive

   I roll out of bed, hitting the ground with a loud thud, with the usual morning migraine accompanying me. Checking around for my phone, still at rest on the nightstand. I slide back to the bed; this time, I sit on the bedside. I pick up my phone lazily, checking for the time; 12:36 am. Just under a half hour before my patrol begins, I better eat something before I'm on the clock. I slowly stand up, letting the lightheadedness disappear as I quickly approach my closet. I scour the damned thing looking for a new suit for tonight; I have around four different hero suits that I wash regularly, but they all look the same, and I hear about it from my colleagues. I still hear Yamada's obnoxious voice ringing, telling me to change out of the 'dirty suit' from the previous night's patrol. Or Kayama telling me to get an 'appropriate' amount of sleep and even trying to use her quirk on me. They both can be so annoying.

   I quickly get into the new suit and make my way through an almost empty apartment; a single sofa sits at the center of the room with an enclosed litterbox on the side of it. I don't spend too much time here; when I do, it's always with Miyuki. I got Miyuki a few years back; she was wandering outside my apartment building when I returned from patrol. She was a stray, possibly the runt of the litter, yet she couldn't have been more than a month old. Wherever the mother was, whether she was killed on the streets, abandoned by a family, or just a runt of the litter being left behind.

   I head toward my apartment's window, ready to leave through it and lock it behind me. All the sleepless nights and horrors I've seen. They try to break me every waking moment. This is my norm, and I don't care how much it affects me but how I can help someone else. Sometimes people don't need only a figure to look up to; they need someone willing to save them from doing something reckless.

   It was not an easy decision when I expelled my old class a year ago on the first day of school. So many of them had great quirks, but their attitudes were sour. Now I've done some 'questionable' things to my classes, but it's never personal; I need them to understand the gravity of their situations.

'I will beat every villain I see.'

   One of them said, Sakura Yua if I remember correctly. Her quirk was interesting, a teleportation quirk that would create portals with a sword. From what I could see, she was trained well. She was likely sheltered most of her life, trained in books and martial arts. She could have been a good hero, but she hated helping others or working with people. Probably from her sheltered upbringing, she never got the chance to understand others or why they needed saving besides being weak.

Reckless and destructive.

'I want to be like All Might, like can you imagine what that money can do for ya?!'

Foolish and concerning.

'I would like to be a top ten hero.'

Vanity is killing this profession.