Villain to Hero: Naruko Motomiya

Chapter 1: Naruko Motomiya: Origin Part 1

He stood silently in the aisle of a convenience store, staring at the shelves lined with various onigiri, chips, and candy. It was odd how those three things were in the same section, but then again, it was a small convenience store.

"Damn it," He said to himself quietly. Just before turning around, he quickly slipped his hand into the pocket of the person passing by him and snatched their wallet, quickly stuffing it in the large pocket of his sweatshirt. "At least I can give them extra as an apology." He exited the store without buying anything.

He took the wallet out from his pocket and peered inside. He pulled open the cash compartment and counted how much yen there was. "Only a thousand? I can't believe how little cash people keep on them these days." He then pulled out the credit card from its sleeve, took a good look at it, and then put it back. He grabbed the cash and stuffed it in his pant pocket.

Because it was summer break, almost everyone was outside enjoying the weather, shopping, and having fun. Not for him, though. He had no summer break anymore after dropping out of school in his first year of high school, making every day a break from school. He couldn't be like all of the other kids his age, all care free and having the time of their lives-- he hadn't the money or friends for that. Instead, he used his time pickpocketing and running errands for his friends, although he wouldn't necessarily call them friends, more like people he hung out with.

With the small crowd of people, he would have a hard time being discreet with his theft, so he had no other choice but to turn to what he hated. He had to use his quirk. He pulled a small notepad and a pencil from his sweatshirt pocket and started writing. After he was done, he took a deep breath and let it out, mentally preparing himself. "Give me your wallets," He ordered clearly.

Just then, the people around him stopped walking, their eyes completely blank. They then reached for their wallets and crowded around him, each giving him a wallet. "Thank you very much," He thanked quietly just before rushing off.

~

He dropped the wallets onto a small coffee table, some of the coins spilling out of them. "They didn't have your favorite snacks in stock, so... I got you all this as an apology," He explained nervously, his voice quiet and slightly shaky.

A group of young men looked at the pile and then at him. "Heh, such a good dog," one of the boys joked, "Motomiya got us more than expected, just like always."

He looked down at the floor, embarrassed. "Please don't call me a dog," He murmered.

"What's that?" Another man asked threateningly.

"Nothing," Motomiya answered.

Another man came to the table. He was the leader of the group and the strongest with a quirk that made his arms into rocks. He took one look at the table and grumbled. "The hell is this? Where the fuck is our food?"

Motomiya tensed up, his thoughts going the speed of light as he tried getting the explanation out. "I- the- the store, the store didn't-" He stuttered just before being slapped across the face with the force of dozens of rocks. He fell to the ground, clenching his scraped cheek.

"Spit it out already," the leader ordered.

"They were out of stock. But- but I got some extra cash and cards for you to take," He replied, a completely fake smile across his face.

The leader sighed. "You do realize that I could be starving over here, right? I could die of starvation and the only hope of saving me would be the food you get us," He complained, "Oh, but where is the food? Nowhere! In that scenario I would be dead all because of you!"

"Higuchi, you don't need to be such an asshole, man," one of the boys stepped in.

Higuchi turned and punched the boy in the face, knocking him out cold. He then turned back to Motomiya. "Just go already. You better be ready for that job we got you on Wednesday."

With that, he quickly left the abandoned warehouse that had been repurposed as a hang out spot, the bright sun on the horizon beaming into his eyes as it set in the west, making him wince. He hovered his sleeved arm in front of his eyes and continued to walk.

The treck from here to his house wasn't too far, but it also wasn't short. He was used to the walk, though. In his free time, he would stay with the others from sunrise to sunset. Even though he was at the bottom with them, it was still better than being at home, and that was all that mattered to him.

Without realizing it, he had already made it home and was now standing in front of the door that led into his little apartment. The outside of the apartment was plain and white with the corners of the mesh walkway and the edges of the walls covered in mildew.

He hesitated when placing his hand on the door nob. He didn't want to be here. It was the only place he couldn't stand being in, yet alone near, but he had to. It was his home. He had nowhere else to go. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what was to come, and opened the door.

The inside wreaked of cigarettes and cheap booze. The floor was littered with glass beer bottles, empty beer cans, crumpled up chip bags, and cigarette butts. The small living room was dark, and the only light that shined was from the janky television that was pushed against the wall. Sitting in a recliner with an empty beer bottle in hand was his dad, a large, unkempt man whose only hobby was drinking and binging television. He was the very definition of a deadbeat.

"As soon as I leave, he trashes the place again," He thought to himself. Carefully, he closed the door and crept by his dad. Taking a step, he accidentally stepped on a chip bag, which sounded a loud crunch. He quickly paused, completely frozen with his heart pounding in his ears.

In an instant, a glass bottle was thrown in his direction. He stepped back, attempting to dodge it, but he was half a second too slow. The base of the bottle slammed against the bottom of his nose. The bottle shattered as it hit the ground while blood rushed out of his nose. He quickly hunched over, holding his bleeding nose in pain.

"Ugh, it's you," His dad spat, his words slurred together. "Thought you were an intruder." He looked at the shattered glass on the floor and then back at Motomiya. "You makin' a mess in my house?!"

Just then, he felt fury take over his body. "I'm making a mess?" He asked rhetorically, wiping the blood off of his face. "I cleaned up the house just yesterday, and it's already a complete mess!" He yelled. It felt so good to yell at him, scold his actions, but as soon as he said his mind, he realized just how much trouble he had gotten himself in.

His dad stood up from the recliner, stumbling with each step he took in a drunken mess, and raised his fist. Motomiya felt his body freeze in terror. Even though he was screaming at himself in his mind to move out of the way, he couldn't. The fist slammed against his face, its heavy impact sending him falling to the ground, right where the bottle had shattered. A piece of glass pierced his forearm, and he let out a shout. It felt like his arm was being burned from the inside out.

He picked himself up and scurried to the bathroom, where he then locked the door shut. He grabbed the piece of glass and gave a small tug to it. A burst of pain shot through his arm at the small movement, making him bite the inside of his mouth. With a shaking hand, he grabbed a tight hold of the glass and then yanked it out, blood dripping down his arm. This was the worst pain he had ever felt even when being compared to all of the punches, kicks, and starvation he had endured over the past years.

Weakly, he turned the faucet on and ran water over the gash, turning the clear water a misty red. He hated this life, absolutely despised it. He couldn't stand living in such a situation with the most despicable man he knew. He had endured this for much too long, and none of his pain was his fault. It was getting exhausting having to wait another year until his eighteenth birthday to legally leave this place behind, but then again, he was technically a villain. He broke the law on the regular. It was fine for him to do it again, especially in a case like this.

He wrapped his arm in some spare bandages and unlocked the door. He cracked it open just enough for him to see into the living room. His dad was back in his recliner, dozing off to television. Now was his chance. He tiptoed into his bedroom where he stuffed his phone, a charger, a notepad, a pencil, and an empty water bottle into a backpack. He then carefully walked to the front door, slipped on his shoes, and left.