RadioStar | Present Mic's Daughter

Chapter 1- Nikki Yamada

At age five, your grin could light up a room. The brightness of it reflected in your bright green eyes and short, wild, white-blonde hair. You'd always watched your dad do his hair for his hero costume, and it looked fun. He didn't mind you dipping your small hand into his hair gel and fluffing up tufts of your own hair at random.

"Is my hair pretty, Dad?" You always grinned widely when you asked, hands still sticky.

Hizashi Yamada grinned back. You kind of resembled a dandelion with glowing messy tufts of blonde hair. He lifted you up easily as you giggled, and set you down on the bathroom counter to boop your nose.

"Your hair is beautiful, little radio star. In fact-" He made an exaggerated show of looking you up and down from head to toe. "All of you is beautiful!" With that he lifted you, spun you around, and set you down with a kiss to your forehead.

So you never cared one bit when kids in class called you a static-head or asked if you stuffed forks in light sockets.

"Ha!" you scoffed, pointing expressively. "You wish you could look like me- boring hair!"

And then you would collapse over in laughter because everything seemed funny to five-year-old you.

Life was fun, and full of laugher. Dad was your hero. School was your domain, your friends were your partners in crime, and time with dad was always full of interesting things. Present Mic had a busy schedule and the energy to match it. Whenever you weren't at school, you went everywhere with him. You rode on his shoulders, rode in the car with him, got to say a few things on his radio channel (his fans loved you), met lots of interesting people, met his class when he would teach sometimes, and often watched him mix music in his studio.

At the end of a long and busy day, the two of you would get french fries, drive to a good view of the sunset, and turn on the radio. The slight staticky sound as the radio knob was turned on became a magical to you. You listened together to your favorite talk hosts and music channels. You didn't always understand everything that was said, but Dad told you funny stories about the people you were listening to, from various times he'd met them and tales that were passed around the radio community. He always exaggerated everything, delivering it with childish goofiness, and was rewarded for his efforts as you always burst into laughter.

The two of you would eat the fries, and sometimes fight over them, or fight WITH them, as though they were mini light sabers, both of you making the sound effects. Dad always let you win, but he was suuuuper dramatic whenever he was stabbed by a french fry.

Your classmates all started to get their quirks. You were soooo excited for yours to come. You hoped you got Dad's quirk. You already had a pretty loud voice, but how cool would it be if it could get even louder??

You daydreamed about it as you sat in class, swinging your feet. Your gaze was directed at a corner of the ceiling, but you weren't really seeing it. You were picturing yourself as a hero. A rocking awesome hero. Just like Dad.

A shimmer in the air snapped you out of your daydream. A shimmery irradescence ribboned accross the room. You blinked, looking around, but everyone else just seemed as bored as they usually did during a class.

Another shimmer in your peripheral made you whip your head around, but it was gone by the time you looked. You sat back in your chair, surveying the room... and suddenly, infinite shimmering beams came into focus. You could see through them. But you could see them. They were like... 3-dimensional beams of... of holographic iridescence. Colorful yet transparent. Full of motion but only in sharp, straight lines. The room swam with them. You blinked, dazzled.

"Yamada!" the teacher called your name. "What is so distracting to you?"

But you were too fascinated by the sight of the shimmering rays to answer.