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"𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐌 𝐈?"
×
HE STARED AT THE MIRROR IN FRONT OF HIM, his reflection was confusing yet so simple. He was looking at himself—yet he didn't know exactly what that meant.
All he had been since the early age of four has been someone who copied. He had no unique characteristics to himself. His job was to follow others in their footsteps, not his. Perhaps that was why he put himself out there—to be known for something. Sure, he was known as someone 'rude' and 'annoying', but that was better than being 'boring' in his opinion.
The one question that it left him with was "who am I?" He was Neito Monoma; fifteen years old; lives in Japan; attends at U.A., Class 1-B. That was just the surface of his figure, but not something deeper.
Once he got his quirk, at first he thought it was great—to be able to copy other's amazing and powerful quirks-but soon enough, he was jealous of the people who had something special to them, when instead he had nothing unique, just simply things he was able to use once and throw away in the next five minutes.
Monoma sighed as he brought his hand up and lightly caressed his cheek. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration, as he looked down at the bathroom sink below him.
He was soon cut out of his trance by a bang at the door.
"Hey! Monoma, bro, open up! Dinner is ready!" The voice from behind the dormitory door sounded familiar, it had to have been Tetsutetsu.
Monoma quietly walked over to his door, placing his signature smirk on his face, careful not to break his character and mask, "okay," he responded to Tetsutetsu, face-to-face.
Tetsutetsu flashed a friendly smile back at the smug boy, "food after a long day of practice! Doesn't that sound great?" The metal-boy was always in a positive mood, always trying to seem 'manly'. Even Monoma admired him a little—no, he admired him a lot. He always loved the idea to have a quirk that could shape your personality, it was just that Monoma never knew if he'd be able to find that one day. Perhaps he had shaped his personality by his quirk, however, it wasn't the personality he wanted.
Monoma scoffed, as he closed the door after muttering, "thank you. I'll be out in a couple of minutes."
He sat down at his desk quickly, pulling out his phone. He dialed the number to his father, someone that always had high expectations for everyone, someone who would only tell the truth, whether it was blunt or not.
The phone ringed in suspense, before a gruff voice picked up from the other side. "Hello?"
"Dad," the elegant teenager started, his voice hesitating as he thought about what to say next.
"𝗗𝗔𝗗, 𝗔𝗠 𝗜 𝗔 𝗚𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡?"
×
[Y/N] snorted at her friend's behavior, acting insane as they reenacted a scene from an anime terribly. As they laughed and had fun, Mina came down to sit on the couch in the living area of the Class 1-A dorms, plopping down right next to the girl who had been laughing her ass off.
"Hey, [Y/N], what do you think Monoma meant by "this means war"? What should we do first? Pull a prank maybe?" The pink-skinned girl bounced up and down on the plush couch.
"Hm, I don't know. Let's have him down the first move, and follow what he does to start it off. We can play it like a game of chess or something," [Y/N] said, while trying to look for new scenes for her friends to try and act out again.
"Ah, you're so smart, [Y/N]!"
The laid back girl blushed at the alien queen's compliment, flustered and surprised someone thought they were smart. Before she could say her thanks, Kaminari interrupted.
"Hey guys, don't you think this might be a bad idea? This whole war thing?"
"What do you mean, Kaminari?" [Y/N]'s and Ashido's head tilted to the side in confusion.
"I don't know. Sounds like trouble I guess," he said.
The girls snorted in amusement, before [Y/N] snickered.
"𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗠𝗬 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗘 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘."
×
At this point, a paroxysm of weeping fell among him. Tears were streaming down his face, rolling down his cheek before falling off of his chin. His bright blue eyes had a red hue to them after being puffy from the crying. His breathing was unsteady, his face was flushed, and his nose had gone stuffy.
His father on the other hand, had gone quiet, yet his son could tell he had to think about the question. The tension was thick, and the atmosphere had darkened by the second. Ignoring the various knocks on Monoma's dorm room—trying to get him out so he could eat—he kept the phone call going.
After almost ten minutes of the phone call had passed, with only about three minutes of actual talking, the noises of Monoma's chokes and sobs and nothing else had seemed to get to be too much for the boy's dad.
"Listen to me boy," he started, clearing his throat while pausing for a brief moment. "A good person is someone who is able to recognize what they say and how it affects people around them. A good person won't insult people without reason, and will follow their morals."
"It's not my job to put a label on you, Neito. Your own image is your job, and one step of that is to figure that out on your own."
The entire room, on both sides of the phone, had felt heavy now, the silence filling the room, only able to hear the small sniffles coming from Neito Monoma.
'A good person is someone who is able to recognize what they say and how it affects people.... won't insult people without reason...' That's what his father had remarked, something that Monoma simply didn't feel like had described him at all.
The end of the line had beeped, it seemed that his father had disconnected or hung up. He probably hung up. With Neito's thoughts swarming his head again, one final knock on his door was the thing to wake him up and come to his senses.
"Hey man! You coming to eat or not?" His peer's voice echoed through the door, which made Monoma wipe his eyes and blow his nose as quickly as possible, responding with a slightly aquiver voice, "I-I'll be out in a second!"
He took a small glance at his own reflection in the mirror, just like he did earlier that day, but quickly looked away before thinking about anything he didn't want to put in his head. Monoma swung his door open, plastering a facade under his mask that he wore, smiling devilishly at his classmates like he always did.
"So," he rubbed his hands together. "𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧'𝗦 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥?"
