Can We Be Heroes?

Chapter 28• Early Tales of Future Heroes III

The Invisible Ray of Sunshine

For someone like Toru Hagakure, you’d think she’d be downcast about her condition. Being invisible, after all, wasn’t exactly the most conventional or easy-to-live-with quirk. She couldn’t see her own reflection, wear makeup, or even pick out a cool outfit without wondering if it truly suited her.

But Toru? Toru was far from depressed.

In fact, she was the greatest ball of sunshine anyone had ever encountered—well, if they could actually see her.

That very girl inzipped through the hallways of her junior high school, her cheerful voice ringing out as she greeted classmates and teachers alike. “Morning, everyone!” she chirped, waving at a group of students near the lockers.

“Uh, morning, Hagakure,” one of them replied, glancing around to pinpoint where her voice was coming from until finding her floating clothes.

Another student chuckled. “I swear, Hagakure, you’ve got the best attendance record in this school, and I still forget you’re here half the time.”

“That’s the charm of being me!” Toru said, giggling.

Her positivity was infectious. Even those who didn’t know her well found themselves smiling in her presence. She had a knack for making people laugh, her humor often self-deprecating but never bitter.

“Seriously, though, how do you stay so upbeat all the time?” a classmate once asked her during lunch.

Toru tilted her invisible head, as if considering the question. “Well, why not?” she said simply. “I mean, I could sit around moping about being invisible, but what’s the point? I can’t change it, so I might as well make the most of it!”

Her attitude wasn’t just talk—it was a philosophy she lived by. Toru found ways to embrace her condition, turning it into a strength rather than a weakness. She had mastered the art of slipping in and out of conversations unnoticed, her stealth often catching people off guard in the funniest ways.

“Where’s my pen?” a teacher once muttered during a lecture, only to have it suddenly appear in their hand.

“Here you go!” Toru said cheerfully, her voice coming from thin air.

The teacher jumped, nearly dropping the pen. “Hagakure, you’ve got to stop doing that!”

Toru laughed, the sound bubbling with mischief. “Sorry! Couldn’t resist!”

Of course, there were moments when her condition wasn’t so easy to brush off. There were times when she felt like she faded into the background, her presence overlooked or forgotten.

Like the time a group project was assigned, and her teammates accidentally started without her because they hadn’t realized she was already sitting at the table.

Or the time her crush didn’t even notice she was standing right next to him during a conversation.

But even in those moments, Toru refused to let herself feel invisible in the metaphorical sense. She made sure people knew she was there, her vibrant personality and unyielding optimism shining brighter than any physical form ever could.

Her dream was to attend UA High and become a pro hero—not just to help people but to prove to herself and the world that being invisible didn’t mean being insignificant.

As she trained for the entrance exams, practicing her stealth techniques and working on her agility, she often found herself daydreaming about the future.

“Imagine it,” she’d say to her parents over dinner, her excitement practically radiating off her invisible form. “Hagakure Toru, the world’s first stealth-based hero! I’ll be unstoppable!”