Behind Blue Eyes ((TENYA IIDA X OC))

Chapter 1

Pretending as if I wasn't there, everyone around me would whisper viciously taunting words only when they knew that I was close enough to listen. Children, teenagers, hell; even adults were cruel, especially the ones with special gifts. They'd spout pitiful nonsense and relentless rumors that everyone found so easy to believe, whether I had control of my heritage or not.

I was disregarded and treated like a parasite.

I was always alone. Zero acquaintances, a Pro Hero father that was far too busy for someone like me, and teachers who couldn't find it within them to put a stop to the relentless bullying and ridicule I had to endure since a dangerously early age. I had tried dragging myself out of the social rut I was forced into, and even went as far as to bare a smile and strike up a conversation with strangers, but was always given disgusted glances and harsh words.

Though quirkless for the majority of my childhood and not holding any obvious signs of being villainous, no one would approach me. Not in elementary school, not even in the horrific years of middle school where I hopelessly believed things would be different. I was a parasitic worm to whomever I came into contact with and there wasn't a single thing I could do to convince them otherwise.

And then, at age fourteen, it finally happened. Though a late bloomer, I was entrusted with two different quirks at the same time; one inherited from my mother, and the other my father.

The first quirk that manifested had others labeling me as a villain. Despite having a perfect record and no violent history, I was labeled an even bigger villainous threat than I already had been before. I was judged by my history and appearance; both be damned.

My mothers quirk was physically noticeable and the first to formulate, only manifesting in my right eye. My iris had dilated considerably, leaving quite a bit of room for a black substance to take over the entirety of my sclera, the white portion of my eye. If there was a larger, more meaningful word other than absolutely horrific, then that's what I'd use to describe how unsightly my eye had become.

The night my quirks had surfaced was like any normal one. I laid in bed in nothing but a large T shirt and running shorts, trying to ease my way into sleep, when a flaming pain pulsed behind my eye and through my skull. The screaming that emanated from my throat may have caused my father's quirk to manifest, taking that by the time I had recovered from the pain, my entire bedroom along with the hallway beyond the door had been frozen solid. My skin had faded into a ghostly pale and I was cold to the touch, making my appearance even more ghastly and almost terrifying. That night was surely a sleepless one.

My father wasn't home and wouldn't be for days, being off on something he phrased as "hero business." Not exactly knowing what to do, I still made my way to school the next morning. As that day progressed, I grew excited. Despite the horrendous display that occurred the night before, I had not one quirk, but two. I didn't hide the grotesque eye or even attempt to cover the white skin, being too overwhelmed with pure excitement at the prospect of showing off my quirks.

I regret that decision to this day.

I was instantly feared, and the teachers of my middle school begged for my immediate expulsion at the recognition of my eye. Although it felt as if everyone on Earth wanted me gone, it was against not only the schools policy, but also the law. As long as there was no proof of a crime I committed, the school and everyone else had no right to kick me out.

I was miserable even with the condolences from my rather caring father. I found comfort in training, though, the chance of getting stronger excited me at the idea of being able to protect myself. Despite being timid toward the darker side of my mother's quirk, I mastered it much easier than I did my father's. I was desperate to keep that demonic power hidden, enough so to cover the right side of my face entirely with a tuff of my silver hair. I had already suffered plenty, and that was enough to convince me to use my power to help others, not to tear them down. I believed that no one deserved what I was forced to go through on my own, not my bullies or the teachers that watched it happen.