Do you believe in miracles?
Centuries had passed, quirks had developed to what they are today. Quirks go beyond the boundaries of possibility, stretching out what the human ability had before and amplifying it by a hundred times over.
However, a ha...
You hear a voice call out for you softly, voice all distant because you were still in that wistful dreamland of yours. Drifting back to sleep, you suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder and shake you, finally causing your eyes to open.
"Kid." Your father mutters. "Hey, kid. We're here. We're finally at the house."
The movers chatter distantly, carrying some of the boxes out and unto the lawn of the new home. Just as your father said, the trees were of a sweet lavender color, wisteria trees decorate around the outside of the house.
It truly is a beautiful sight, funny how this was left to your family.
You sit up properly, eyes blinking to take in the view better. Theride must've been a little bit over the hour—you don't know whether you feel rested or like you just fell down a 15 flight of stairs.
A hand offers its help to you.
"Come on, there we go." Your dad pulls you out of the car.
He steadies you as you step out of the car, your eyes still adjusting to the morning light filtering through the wisteria trees. The delicate, lavender blossoms sway gently in the breeze, casting a calming spell over the entire scene.
"Wow."
"Yep." He smiles and grabs some of the boxes in the backseat. "Come help your old man, will ya?"
. . .
The last box hits the wooden floor. While your father thanking the movers and waving goodbye, you hummed and decided to look around the house.
The house had barely any furnishing, only few chairs, tables and desks around with old beds.
"Whats this?" You ask nobody, walking down a small hallway with a vanity. There were a few vases and pictures laying on the wood and on the wall.
You pick up a frame and wipe some of the dust that accumulated there over time.
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The picture contained a group of people, sitting together and smiling as they got ready for their photograph. You analyzed each face, all of them having unique features compared to each other.
However, the boy with a scar mark on his forehead made you widen your eyes.
"He looks—" You wipe the frame, particularly on this boy's face, a second time. To get a clearer view. "—like great-pops."
You recall back to the last time you saw your late great-grandfather. He looks almost like the boy in the picture.
Could that be him when he was younger?
Looking up, seeing a pair of earrings next to where you picked up the picture. It had a red circle at the top with radiating black lines, symbolizing a rising sun.
Hand stretched out to have a closer look at the earrings as it sat neatly behind a glass frame and a soft beddig of cloth.
"Hey, what'ya got there?"
You instantly freeze over in sudden fear, taking a bit to process that it was your dad again.
"Oh my God." A loud sigh left you throat as your forehead meets with the wooden flat of the vanity. "Why are you so quiet??"
He gives an evil smile, and pushes his glasses up, looking down at you. "The master work of a ninja."
You groan and shake your head with a smile. What a nerd.
"I see you're looking at these bad boys." He walks closer to you and take earrings off the wall and dusts off the little particles that stuck there. "Your great grandfather wore these when he was much younger, it's handed down to the eldest son as tradition."
"Yeah, from your ancestor there." A calloused finger points at the boy with the earrings in the picture frame you held.
So it's not great-grandpops.
"Why is it not with you then?" You hum, looking up from the picture.
"Well, actually, great-grandpops wanted to give it to my father but he was displeased with the tradition and refused to believe in our history and accept the earrings.. I think my old man just hated earrings." He paused,
"Then, when great-pops wanted me to have it, my dad wasn't much of a fan and even forbade me from having it. Even restricting me coming back here."
"Man.." You shake your head in shame that your grandfather was like that.
"I know." Your father agrees, nodding and chuckling. "But that doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that I have the honour of handing this down to you."
He softly opens the latch, your eyes widening.
"But you haven't—"
"It's fine. Please." He smiles, flattered that you were concerned for him, that he never had the chance to wear them. "Your dad's not an earring man either. Im more.. tattoo."
You glare fakely, "You're just too scared to pierce through skin."
"Shut up or no ice cream." He hisses and softly inserts the earring into your ear, making sure it doesn't hurt his daughter.
"Okay, check it out." He slaps his hands together and rubs them like a mischievous little fly. You got it from him.
You take your phone out and turn on the camera, looking at the hanafuda earrings.
"It looks good on you." He smiles and pats your head proudly.
Seeing your dad smile, you start to reciprocate and smile with him. He's part of the reason why you think not being a hero might not be so bad. You wanna be like him, as kind as him.
