I don't always feel human.
This body doesn't always feel like its mine.
It feels more like a vessel for the mind than anything else.
If it is so keen on protecting itself without my saying, why should I claim it at all.
I've been thinking about that for the last hour.
Ever since Shoto said the words I'd always feared he would.
I don't need her.
That's what he said right?
I don't need her?
I remember the look on Endeavor's face when he rescued me 10, 11, so many years ago.
He said I could be useful.
That I could make his son stronger.
But I remember the look on Shoto's face too.
The one who never wanted to use me.
The one who was supposed to love me just as I loved him.
And though I remember so many smiles, I remember the first look.
I try not to.
Because all I see is the fear in him.
But that's the problem with introspection.
With thinking about who you are.
The more you focus on yourself, the more you begin to define yourself.
And I refuse to define myself as the monster I saw in the reflection of his eyes...
But now?
He's not here.
He doesn't need me.
No one needs me.
That reflection is all that's left.
I smile at that.
Monster. Monster. Monster.
Like a lullaby in the voice of my parents' corpses.
Monster. Monster. Monster.
I smile again.
It doesn't sound so bad in your lonesome.
Thank you for your fear Shoto.
It proves I no longer have to fear myself.
***
You opened your eyes to the sound of the stands coming alive above. So many cheers of anticipation, so many yelling, yelling, yelling.
It would have bothered you before.
Made you wince, cover your ears, yearn for your headset and Jirou's playlists-- it didn't now.
Usually your quirk would rage to get out, build up, make the yells sound like screams, each whisper at such a high frequency it made your ears bleed.
But the blood was dry.
And your quirk was having a field day.
5689 people.
The percentages of each element every single one of them was letting so apparent,it may as well have been like a display on a screen in your mind.
Nothing hurt.
Nothing felt too loud.
Rather than a sea of confusion blinding and deafening your body, it was just information.
Useful. Attainable. Clear.
It was like breaking down a wall you'd been building for ten years.
Never using it.
Burying it.
Denying its existence.
