U.A's secret Villain

Breakfast

A/N: I'd like to say a quick thanks to ShashaAlia7 for your continued interest in this story. This chapter was updated today just because of you. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The house was small, but warm. There wasn't much for the light haired woman, but she'd manage. She would do anything to take care of her child. She would make sure her daughter would be happy, even if the girl reminded her of her ex-husband. It wouldn't matter.

This night was no exception. She sat on the lounge with her child on her lap. The sweet girl had her father's black hair, but she never knew where the yellow eyes came from.

The little girl was no more than three at the time, and she didn't understand, but that didn't make her any less human. The woman placed her hand on her little girls head and began to sing. The song was one of love and honesty and the tune was smooth and caring. Everything the girl needed was right there, and that's the way it was going to stay.

Surebu chuckled to herself as she mixed the eggs in the frying pan. That was a very long time ago, and she had no clue what made her mind wonder to that point of her life. When her mother actually cared.

Surebu forced those thoughts out of her mind. She couldn't think of them right now. She had to stay focused on her task.

The sun had only just begun to rise. Surebu took note of this detail. That only meant that she had to pick up the pace. She was hopping to do a nice gesture for her class, but she knew that anything they knew she did would be questioned, so she's doing it in secret.

It wasn't something big either just a small gesture. She was making them all a small breakfast. It just happened that in her brain a small breakfast was five stacks of pancakes of multiple flavours with toppings on the table. A few stacks of eggs and bacon separated. Multiple different flavoured jars of spread like peanut butter and jam and many others. There was also mountains of toast to go with it. She wouldn't even admit it to herself, but she was going all out for this.

Before anyone even bothered to leave their rooms that morning, Surebu was already back in hers. The only proof that she'd even left was on the dining table, ready to be eaten. She even cleaned all the dishes after using them.

It was about half an hour before Surebu heard Aizawa at her door. Even though she cleared up after herself, Aizawa knew it was her, and one look at his face when he walked in and she knew he knew.

"Sorry Aizawa," she mumbled out looking away. Aizawa sighed walking over to sit next to her. She was ready for the day and seemed completely fine, but she once again broke the rules.

"Why?" He asked making her flinch slightly. The girl shrugged. "Surebu. You can't keep breaking the rules like this. How do you even get out? I lock the door right?" Aizawa looked to the door thinking over the night before to remember that he did lock it. As he was about to get up to check the lock Surebu grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled him back down.

"I'm good with locks. Had to escape a cage or two before. You can't help but catch onto the basics of it quickly enough," she admitted. Aizawa wasn't sure how to respond to this at all. He could continue the conversation, but he wasn't sure that the girl next to him was comfortable with that.

"Cage?" He managed to say hoping he wouldn't offend her.

"Surebu's belong in cages Aizawa. It's the safest place for us, and everyone around us," she stated getting up. "I need to get to class, you're here to take me. Let's go," she ordered walking out. Aizawa looked from where she was seated before to the door she just exited through.

He didn't know what to make of this. He never knew anymore. All he could do was take Surebu to her class as if nothing had happened. He felt as though the more he learnt about her, the more confused he would get. As if all she wanted was to create a web that would tangle anyone in an incomplete story. Some part of him was wondering if he'd ever get the entire story, but he knew that was a stretch. Wishful thinking.