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a woman flipped through busy news channels, her monolid eyes half-disregarding the bulk; only looking for one headline.
"[sp/n] takes down yet another big bad!!"
"the young hero is quickly making lead way to becoming the finest superhero every plucked from the streets of harlem."
"born in puerto rico, his parents were forced to be wed, a bargain tool of his grandparents to unite their two mafias; the 'yakuza' and 'tres angelitos'
oh!! here he is now— [sp/n]!! [sp/n]!!
"[sp/n]!! [sp/n]!!"
a male, rounding 16 years old, turned his head to look at the clamoring of his name, smirking under his mask.
he swung from one point to the next, his beige jacket shoveling copious amounts of oxygen between his skin. his suit stretched as his muscles did, the material firm yet flexible.
he detached himself— in the process, bringing his knees to his chest. he extended his upper body into a crescent shape, using the air to boost himself upwards.
"ha! ha!! that's the name!"
he landed on his wrists, his legs like daggers that pointed to the sky. He licked his lips before flipping once more to land on his feet.
"don't wear it out."
the reporters collectively laughed, one turning her mic to meet the face of the hero; "so, [sp/n], how much are you enjoying your dual life? you know, going to school during the day and saving the world at night."
the boy chuckled, outstretching his clothed arms with a light groan, "mhh, es no fácil" he smiled as he brought his arms in front of himself, a light stinging reverberating within his muscles, "I gotta be homeschooled. this gay spider-man thing ain't for everyone, no?"
the reporter nodded once, turning her microphone back to herself, "but, you're making things better for all gay latin-americans, you do realize the great contribution you're making, right?"
[sp/n] scoffed, turning his head away from the camera, "nah, it's not just me, y'know? my whole team helps. mira, if it weren't for them I would've been lost hace mucho tiempo"
the boy took his mask off, his colored locs sticking slightly to the sides of his head. the reporter flushed— her checks magnifying a light shade of pink. "w—well, uh..uhm...[m/n], are you—"
"mi vida, mi vida, you know ion' like being called by my first name." the hero sighed before flashing his signature 'boyish charm' smile. "just call me Kirari"
