Aizawa Shōta is an enigma to many people. He seemed to be a stoic man with little regard for his work, yet somehow managed to always be early and support his students. He was exactly the opposite of what you'd initially think.
Suzukaze Yasu was qui...
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A young girl looked out the window of her room, her eyes following the drops of water that made their way down the glass. She was 11, soon turning 12, and had just came back from the hospital.
Her mother stood at the doorway, a somber smile on her face as she approached her daughter.
"How're you feeling, sweetheart?" The woman caressed the bandage placed on the girl's forehead, careful not to inflict more pain than she was already in.
The girl rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Awful, thanks for asking I guess." She refused to meet her mother's eyes. If she saw the guilt that pored from her mothers irises the girl knew she would begging crying nonstop.
Though her mother knew that such disrespect wasn't tolerated in the household, she couldn't bring herself to reprimand her daughter after what had just happened.
They had lost their family and the feeling of safety.
Yasu picked at the bandages wrapped around her arms, her forlorn expression not missing the watchful eye of a mother. "M..mom..." Her crackly voice pierced the silent room. "Mom why did this happen to me? I didn't deserve this!" The desperation was evident. She was searching for an answer that nobody had.
Why was life unfair?
Why did bad things happen to good people?
The tears pooled at her eyes, spilling over onto her bed sheets.
"Yasu," her mother commanded her attention, lifting the girls chin to meet her eyes. "You didn't deserve this, but it happened. Things happen for a reason and I believe that because if this something great will happen. It's awful, and it's disgusting, but that doesn't mean you're any less valuable." She wrapped her arms around her broken child, who's body was wracked with sobs.
"Mother p-please.. please... is it— will it ever stop hurting?" She gagged at the severity of her despair, clutching onto her mothers clothes as if they would save her from drowning, ignoring the aching and stinging that was present on all of her limbs.
The woman pushed back her own salty tears knowing it would only cause more pain for her child, though the guilt and responsibility she felt for this situation was choking her. "No, honey. It will never stop hurting. Physically, the pain will go away but you will always feel the hurt of this, but you have to move past it, do you understand? You're better than this situation. It's okay to feel the pain, but don't let that define you, that's not who you are." She brushed away the moisture present on the child's face, smiling in hopes of raising her spirits.
