Chasing Someone Else's Dreams - MHA OC fic

"Can't you PLEASE just try?"

[This is a self insert of my OC pretty much, but I'm gonna write it as "you"]

You loved living with Shō. Well, Aizawa Shōta, but you called him Shō. Technically, you were related to Nemuri, but it's not like you never got to see her; you just stayed with him for the tutoring, really.

And now, for the utterly "tragic" backstory. Not that you remember it. Abandoned by your parents after the manifestation of your Quirk at the ripe old age of four, you had somehow found yourself with your only living relative; the Pro Hero Midnight. Aunty Nemuri, to you.

It was best to assume that your parents were either villains or dead, not that you cared about finding them. You had everything you needed, anyway, and if they didn't want you, you sure as hell didn't need them.

...however, you weren't exactly fully content.
For one reason or another, you were homeschooled; lectured daily by your best "old-man" friend, Shōta, and you desperately wanted to experience the romanticised excitement of learning in a public school. Sure, you had friends, but only for a few hours on some weekends, and only through a screen. You wanted real human connection. The romance that America had burned into your brain — through its dramas on Netflix — could be sought after in a public school. You wanted a prom. You wanted friend groups. Girls' nights. Parties in the dead of night, unwarranted by any of the attendees' parents. Gossip and rumours.

You lived for the drama, and yet you felt like you could never truly reach it.

You were afraid.

"You realise you're ahead of my own students now. And they're the same age as you."
Shōta says proudly, after praising yet another near-perfect test score.

You think for a second.
"My age, huh?"
"Yes."
"...I know what you're trying to do."
"And I know you want more than just homeschooling."
"But it's a Hero school."
"Don't you think you're more than capable of handling that?"

You look at Shōta. It terrified you to think about what Heroes go through. What he went through.
You had also seen All Might on the television, and yes, he smiled, but you knew him personally too. You'd seen the damage, the pain, the torture he had to endure with a smile just to give hope to others; like they were innocent children he was protecting from the horrors of reality.

You didn't know if you wanted to be one. Danger didn't excite you. You didn't have a hunger to prove yourself, or some sort of saviour-complex that urged you to put your life on the line for others. But your Quirk was remarkable, and Shōta saw potential... and when he sees potential, he does everything he can to push it to blossom to its fullest.

"You won't even try it for just a year?"
"It's mid-term." You try to reason.
"Students transfer between schools mid-term all the time."
"Not to Yuuei." It was too prestigious.

A pause.

"I can pull some strings."
"That's... unfair."

Deep down, you wanted this. The chance to experience real school life. It was tempting. The idea and excitement was... tantalising. Every American drama you had watched, the new girl was obsessed over. The big thing.

The main character.

God, did you yearn for that.

But you knew if you ever step foot into the world of public schools, your one and only option would be Yuuei, thanks to Shōta.

"You realise other students were let in upon recommendation, too? That could... also be argued as being unfair, but it still happened." He struggles to reason.
"...If you have a point here it's not really apparent."
Shōta sighs.

"Just try it, kid, I promise it won't be too bad."
"You can't exactly go easy on me. That's favouritism."
"But you are my favourite."
I scoff. "Shō!"
"Yes, fine, I know."
"You're afraid you'll scare me off if you treat me the same as everyone else."
"I know." He seems to struggle for words. "But even if I do, won't you at least be comforted by the fact I'll be there for you? Every day."

I stay silent. He takes that as a yes, and, well, he isn't wrong.
"But you can't treat me differently."
"Is... is that you agreeing?"
"I..."

Your heartbeat picked up its pace. The tangibility of something so new and so romanticised — something you so desperately wanted — shot adrenaline through your veins.
"Give me at least another week... to think."