The Burden of Time [Aizawa x OC]

- twenty six -

-Stand Still's POV -

July and I were the last ones to leave the auditorium. Walking alongside each other as we exit through the double doors, July lets out a loud, frustrated, "FUCK!!!!!!" that echoes through the empty hallway.

I simply nod my head in response, bringing my hand to my face and pinching the bridge of my nose. July had pretty much summed up the day perfectly with that one word. Honestly, what the fuck just happened?

Rounding the corner to head to the elevators, we came face to face with a certain half-hot half-cold student. "5 yen in the jar." Todoroki deadpans, holding out his hand expectantly.

"FUCK!" July throws his head back in an exasperated manner and groans. He reluctantly digs his hand into the pocket of his hero outfit, pulling out the 10 yen, placing it into Todoroki's open palm. Todoroki smiles triumphantly, before sauntering off to wherever he was originally headed without another word.

"Why did I even make that deal with a rich kid," July grumbles as we step into the elevator. "It's not like he needs the money."

I was too lost in thought to reply.

The aftermath of the trial had left me feeling rather hollow, yet strangely reassured. When the elevator doors opened with a ding, I stepped out and trudged through the hallway of the teacher dormitory wing, my mind unable to settle on one solid feeling or thought. All things considered, how was I supposed to react to what just happened?

To know the students I had grown attached to, defended me until the end... Yet, other heroes had questions about my character that I could not give them answers to.

In America, things such as this were not questioned. My character didn't matter so long as I provided what they expected. The only thing that mattered was that I was a lethal weapon with the most powerful quirk in all of existence. I was "given" something, so now I owe them my life. It was so cut and dry, I had very little opportunity to think otherwise.

However, here in Japan, it was different. They were looking to see who I was as a person, beneath the hero sheath. My quirk be damned. They were not focused solely on what I could provide, although they were also looking for protection during a tumultuous time, they wanted to know who I was as a human being.

Sure, some were concerned about the origin of my quirk, being that it was artificially injected, all of those concerned would be quelled if they just knew who I was. It didn't matter that I had the most powerful quirk in existence, one that could stop time. Because to them - if they didn't know who I was as a person - I would be a detriment to their society. No matter how strong I was.

And although he was a tad preoccupied with my origin as a hero, Gang Orca made a good point - much to my dismay. Who am I? What good can a hero with questionable American morals and a formidable quirk provide in a society that was focused on benevolence?

I had never been faced with these questions, nor had I ever even had so much as a half a thought about them. I was trained to neglect my sense of self for the past 20 years. I was a weapon. Nothing more, nothing less. I had very little personality outside of occasionally interacting with the media back in the states and the few teaching positions I'd held over the years. I had no hobbies. I had no social life, let alone friends. I had no interests.

So, now, as I entered my dorm, each question rang in my head like an incessant alarm. It was time to wake up, but could I? I was not trained for this.

I changed out of my hero costume quickly, the fabric feeling too constrictive all of a sudden. Shoving it onto the closet and shutting the door, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I might not be able to have those answers right now, but what I could do in the near future is research. I was confident I would be able to find some books in the library that could steer me in the right direction. I could try my best to learn who I am as a person, and not as a weapon.