The Wise Child (BNHA x OC)

1. Monsters Don't Belong Here

My mother once told me I was a dandelion. It felt like a compliment, or perhaps it was meant as one, her pet name for me, the one she used more often than not. And I couldn't remember when the name turned from a flower to a weed.

"You'll be quiet." I have no voice.

"Of course father."

"And not make a scene." I couldn't if I tried.

"Of course father."

"But remember to remain at the top." What else is there for me to do?

"Of course father."

"And make no mistakes." Never again.

"Of course father."

He stopped his orders and looked down at me. At my pristine uniform. Not a single wrinkle. At my long braid. So tight I had a headache. At my polished shoes. His reflection clear as a mirror in them. But never my eyes. No one in my family ever managed to do so.

For a moment a flicker of something almost fatherly passed through him, and he laid a hand on my shoulder.

I wanted to smile.

Until his grip tightened, and I could feel bruises beginning to form, "You'll surpass your brother. Is that understood? Through blood and bone, I expect you to work. You cannot afford to break like he has. You are not strong. So you must be wise."

I looked down at his hand, wondering if others were having this same talk with their parents. I assumed they must have been, what else would a parent do?

I was simply weaker. For feeling the pain.

"Of course father."

"Leave."

I gently lifted my bag over my shoulder. A perfectly white, perfectly clean bag. It fell against my back like a boulder, filled with all of my school books, and the ones of fiction I had stolen from my mother's room.

As the door opened I was greeted with fresh air and a gust of wind. I instantly felt my bangs flying in my eyes, and fear engulfed me as I smoothed over my braid. Not a single hair out of place. I couldn't allow it.

I had carefully made my way towards the street, something I hadn't done alone unless I were visiting Miss Megumi. A nervous thrill went through me, only to stop as another person had made their presence known through even breaths and quick steps.

My brother walked next to me, eyes staring blankly ahead. He wore an expression of anger. One he often did around me. The slight frown in his lips, the crease in his brows, the tightening of his jaw. He didn't bother to stop and say hello, to acknowledge me at all. Merely walking ahead in a perfectly blank sort of way.

The two of our steps blurred together.

Each one spoke to me as we continued on. They whispered words of warning. Told me stories I lived. For here's me with ugly memories.

Eventually the words were said so much that they lost meaning, and began to return to a simple, normal, vibration.

The large houses turned into tall buildings, to small shops, to train stations. The city surroundings turned to gray flurries in the train window, and the only noise remained to be my thoughts. 'Make an impression, but do not stand out.' 'Prove your strength, but do not show it.' 'Form connections but not friendships.'

My fathers words held strong and on repeat through my head until the wide UA arches stole them away. I made it.

"Go away." They demanded. "Monsters don't belong here."