ΔDΔMUS ❀ MY HERO ACADEMIA

29 » Hero Hopefuls

yeehaw

𓆱❀𓆱

I slipped through the concrete of the ground and beneath the HPSC building like a ghost. Sensing the skeletal foundations of the other buildings, I pushed myself out of the ground into an alleyway. I tripped over a bag of trash, toppling cans to the ground. The alleyway was filled with garbage, but there was no-one around. I poked my head into the street, where people and cars whizzed past in blurry flashes of red, white and black. I shook my head and dirt fell from my clothes, collecting into a little ball in my hand. I'd never done that before, yet the gesture felt second-nature to me.

I stepped out onto the street, meshing into the crowd of workers returning home. I didn't know how long I'd last until they found me, and I honestly didn't care. I'd get shit for it – maybe even pulled out of U.A., but I'd get to that when I got to it.

My eyes trailed wearily to the shadow of Sekoto Peak on the horizon. It loomed over the city, painted pitch black against the deep blue sky. The sight sent shivers cascading down my spine. Sometimes, I could swear I felt it whispering.

I wandered aimlessly through the bustling streets of the city, packed with huge billboards flashing images of the Sports Festival's highlights, plastering my faces across the streets. I ducked my head to the ground while the sky-rise office buildings and tiny street market shops eventually gave way to suburbs and white picket fences with lawns and front yards. I ended up at a quaint, fenced-off playground at the edge of a man-made forest. I could tell it was human-planted by the way the trees spoke – Whatever the fuck that meant.

The rusted metals of the swing creaked in protest at my weight.

Had I ever played in a park before? I wondered. It would have been before the accident, if that were the case. I wondered what kind of life I led in the six, seven years gaping from my thoughts. Maybe I went to preschool, and had parents who would pick me up after and take me to a park like this. I could've had friends my age, and we'd have come here to play on the weekend, or at each other's houses. Maybe I'd lived in a big city like Tokyo, and stayed in one of those super high apartment buildings. Or maybe I lived in one of those big mansions I'd seen in the North, or maybe it was a small, cozy home, and my family and I slept in a warm cluster of futons.

I smiled wryly at the unending "maybe's" of my past. The swing slowly rocked to a stop. Chances were, my parents had abandoned me. I knew that. They hadn't come looking for me, that was for sure. Or maybe it was like what had happened to Keigo; Maybe the Commission offered them a lot of money to stay away. Damn them, whoever they are, I thought. If they'd just stuck around, I wouldn't be in this mess –

As soon as I thought it, the guilt seeped in. Or they're dead, my conscience whispered. If that was the case, I could hardly blame them for being absent, could I? Chances were that they died in that disaster, anyways. Hah. Killing your own parents.

If that were the case, they were probably the ones damning me from the afterlife.

𓆱❀𓆱

I dreamt of my parents that night. Hazy wisps of bodies and faces I could never quite focus on floated across my vision. "Damn you," they whispered.

I smiled, placidly. "That's fair."

I snapped awake at the sound of children. The swing creaked in protest of my jerk. I rubbed my eyes groggily, squinting at the morning sun. My back ached from sleeping hunched over all night.

"Were you sleeping?" asked a little voice. I looked into the dark, inquisitive eyes of a young girl — four, maybe five years old. "Why?"

I hummed, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "I was tired."