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Chapter Text

        The sky was tainted with black, the night sky rubbing away at the bright blue pigment and replacing the large and fluffy clouds with bright twinkling stars. Neon lights displayed their bright and vibrant colours, advertising for shops, hotels, and other businesses in bright greens, blues, and purples. Tokyo’s nightlife was always bustling, people squished together in crowded walkways and streets. Lively chatter and laughter danced in the air, car horns beeping and feet meeting the sidewalk, strengthening the symphony of Tokyo sound even further. People were dining in restaurants and others were taking photos in front of Shibuya Crossing. It was an average night in a city adorned in attention and admiration across the globe. It was a beautiful and vast area, yet with vastness comes the bright red target nailed to its back. 

        The chatter died down when the ground began to shake. Water in glasses trembled with each thud that met everyone’s ears. Silence mingled with mumblings of slight confusion when a gigantic humanoid creature peeked from behind a skyscraper. Its eyes were a haunting yellow, limbs elongated, and skin a sickly green tone. Its lips were curled into a grotesque smile, low growls of excitement shaking the ground as it gripped the building, the glass shattering freeing the screams of terror coming from the inside. Throats grew raw as screeches and cries flooded the streets, people beginning to run as far as they could from the beast that had emerged out of thin air. Thinking like this happening was some sick game, the beast followed them, cackling and kicking buildings and cars like a child playing with their town made from blocks. Car alarms blared, the ground cracked as gigantic footprints embedded themselves into the asphalt. It had moved to snatch up some of the citizens, its long, thin fingers inches away from grabbing a young child, but before they could, a thick vine had wrapped itself around its arm, yanking it away from the fleeing crowd in a single powerful pull. 

        It stumbled, forced to face its new foe. It was a woman, the vine she created wrapped around her arm. It roared, clambering at her with its arms outstretched, hoping to tear the woman to shreds. She jumped up, landing on the cracked roads, stomping her foot. As soon as her foot met the ground, dark roots crept out from along the cracks in the street, wrapping themselves around the feet of this ginormous creature. It roared, trying to kick them off but to no avail. The woman rose her arm once again, thick vines wrapping around the other arm, pulling down. It was falling towards the grounds, roaring as its face met the ground, creating a large crater in the sidewalk. He was down but her work wasn’t over yet. She walked over, pressing a hand on its back. Dark and thick vines started protruding from her fingers, going across the struggling form of the villain before her. It covered it like a tight jacket. Red and blue lights covered the two, their shadows projected to the building behind them. The police had arrived, walking over to the heroine, notepad at the ready. 

        “It was without a nomu from the League of Villains. The brain is exposed at the top of its head and the limbs are so grotesque it was obvious it fits the criteria. It didn’t fight that intelligently compared to villains with full consciousness of what they’re doing. This was one of their weaker ones for sure, sacrificing the potential strength it could have possessed for its height. They most likely hoped that it would cause more damage that way. I merely tied it down so once you cut those vines you best be ready to keep it there or else it may try to get up and cause more trouble again.” Her voice was soft, reassuring even. However, it did not lose the seriousness that accompanied the situation. The officers hurriedly inspected the nomu that was struggling under the tight blanket of vines keeping it on the cracked and rough ground below it. Flashing cameras and loud voices met the heroine’s ears. She began to walk away from the scene, crimson eyes meeting the avid expressions of the media. She bit her lip for a moment, unable to speak in response to the flurry of questions. Her posture straightened, chin elevated, eyes reflecting against the flashing lights and various faces. She then put on a smile, nodding her head for the first reporter to go first. Then another. Then another. She kept a calmness to her voice, maybe even a bit of suavity, keeping the press engaged. Another microphone was held to her lips, a reporter grinning at her. 

        “Ma’am, what’s your name?” He asked,  a small chuckle escaping her lips. 

        “The name is Amazon, the Forest Hero.” She said, smiling for the cameras and answering questions from fans who had gotten on the scene. She signed hats and backpacks, making peace signs into phone cameras. 

        When the crowd had dispersed and the small taste of fame had grown bitter in her mouth, she began to walk home. Some had stopped her on the sidewalks, giving her a quick ‘good job’ or a handshake and selfie. She could only smile, trying her best to appreciate all of the attention. That was what she was told she would be receiving, after all. Then again, she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, did she? After all, she had been young that day, having nowhere else to turn. What was she thinking, being so ungrateful? Who was she to ever question those who had given her so much when she herself had so little? She shook her head, focusing on making it home without being spotted by anyone else who heard even the slightest bit of what had happened only an hour or so ago. 

       Her apartment wasn’t that big like the other heroes who were ranked higher or similar to her own. In fact, her’s was slightly minimalistic with a modern touch. There were a few pictures framed, including her law diploma, issued to her only a few years ago. She sat down on her couch, a shaky sigh escaping her breath as her body melted into the fluffy pillows. The couch cushions began to vibrate, her phone dancing across the couch and lighting up. She groaned a bit, eyes scanning the name of the caller on her screen, her emotionless face contorting itself into one of pure disdain. She slid her finger across the screen, forcing herself to manage at least the ghost of a smile. 

      “Good evening, Ms. President.” 

      “I see you defused another nomu attack. You have my congratulations. At this rate, the people will know your name by the end of the year. Maybe you’ll even make the top ten this time.” She said, the young girl on the other end mustering up a small, dry chuckle. 

      “You can only dream, no? Plus, being a lawyer is eating up my free hours enough as it is. Being at the top would only take away from my time helping others in the courts.” She replied immediately, getting cut off within seconds. 

      “Your job isn’t to help them in court, remember? Your primary focus should be saving people from robberies and villain attacks. All of that lawyer activity is a side performance in itself. You shouldn’t keep it as one of the goals that you hold close to you. You go to court to defend the people in order to let them admire you outside of the stunts you pull in battle, not because you actually care. This is the last time I’m reminding you about this. If you ever need a key example of what you should be, look at Hawks. He knows exactly what he is doing. You can learn a thing or two from him.” Hana let out a small sigh, trying her best not to grit her teeth as she came up with a response. 

      “Of course, Ms. President.” 

      “I’m serious, Amazon. Take his example into consideration, no?” 

      “Will do, ma’am.”

      “Good. You have a good night, now.”

      “You too.” 

       This wasn’t the first time she had been compared to Hawks. He was the Commission’s golden child, the one they put up on a big pedestal, showing the rest of the recruits what they should be like. Personally, she didn’t see the appeal. He was carefree to the public, resonating with the younger generation the most, yet on the inside, she believed he was nothing but an empty husk of a man who caters to the Commission’s needs. She was one to talk, though. She was doing the exact same thing. She glanced at her office, the stack of paperwork from the law firm she worked at looming high. She checked the time, grimacing when she saw that it was long past midnight. 

Not all that glitters is gold. 

Chapter Text

        She had woken up to a boisterous alarm on her phone, a sharp beat repeating itself and vibrating her phone until she mustered up enough of the scarce energy she had to sit up and turn it off. She had fallen asleep on her desk, paperwork strewn throughout her desk. She rubbed at her eyes, checking the time and letting out a long and defeated sigh when she noticed it was still dark out, her morning shift starting only within the next hour. She got up, stretching, and hearing loud pops from her back. For being so young, her body ached like it was centuries old. She walked into her actual bedroom, the bed made and closet still reorganized from when she worked on it the previous weekend. She didn’t have any pictures in her room, no family trip photos, no pictures of long escapades with friends, her walls being an empty beige and void of a cherished life. She never got to experience such a luxury, recreation nothing but a long and wistful dream that only lived within her mind. Fun times had only been experienced in a time long ago, a time that was just a cloud of fog and mist to her. She didn’t remember anything from her childhood and had no remnants of it to go off of. She spent hours daydreaming of her early life sometimes, thinking of what her life had been like. She couldn’t even remember her own name, something that branded who you were. She only knew and identified as one person and that was Amazon. Amazon was who she was and there was no surname or family to give her a smidge of individuality. It brought her great sorrow as a child, wondering who she had been and who she used to love and be loved by. However, as she got older, her bitterness grew into acceptance and her attention had been engaged in becoming a hero and saving lives, her only true purpose. 

        She had stepped into the shower, muscles relaxing when the warm water flowed over her skin. She disliked showering, mostly because she had to see her scars. They covered her body like vines infesting an abandoned building. There were small ones and big ones, some from still not fully healed wounds. She had a lot of scars on her back, some from her own generated plants, many with thorns or sharp leaves. She found herself to be like broken pottery put together with children’s paste, repulsive to the eyes and broken, barely able to keep itself together. Showering meant she would have to see her imperfections, her failures. She would aggressively scrub at them with soap, hoping that one day her luffa would just wipe her failures away like an eraser. Of course, she knew better, and that would give way to hot tears. 

       Hana had always been given compliments for her hair. It was long, soft as silk, and greatly contributed to her overall appearance, at least the one that the Japanese people saw. To them, she was one of God’s greatest works, many admiring her beauty from afar when she fought, her fanbase filled with those who admired her looks. It greatly frustrated her, feeling her actual heroic works were being overshadowed by her appearance. They viewed her as a goddess, a wonder of the world. However, she would wave it off immediately. She saw looks as a trick used by Midnight and Mt. Lady, not a much more capable and strong hero such as herself. Of course, her appearance led to her getting sponsored in a lot of things and spreading her name like wildfire, so it was a pain that she had to endure for the sake of her career. The President had told her to use it as a weapon, using temptations of the eyes to stab those who should have been focusing on her carefully planned moves the entire time. She felt like a temptress, not a hero. 

       She had gotten out of the shower, drying herself off and changing into her hero costume. It was quite simple in composition as Hana was not one to adorn herself in sparkles and fine fabrics and flashy colours. Rather, it functioned for her comfort as her quirk didn’t rely on gear like everyone else’s. It was black, the famous diamond insignia of the Commission embroidered right above her heart in a light grey. Her costume had a hood and a gas mask built into it in case she generated a plant that emitted a deadly or sleeping gas. When people saw the diamond, they automatically spoke to her about Hawks, the absolute bane of her existence. To her, the man was nothing but a snitch with no morals of his own. He was the teacher’s pet, the golden child, the one that she was always cast aside for. 

       She didn’t have time to get breakfast for the sake of time, but even she knew breakfast wasn’t going to be the only meal that she skipped that day. She valued her time and would do anything to continue saving others, including proving herself to be the cause of her own detriment. She also knew that if she took the time to actually give herself the proper amount of calories she needed for the day, she wouldn’t have that corset hourglass look the media and lustrous fanboys worshipped her for. Self-care would mean a loss of popularity and income, as repulsive as it was. She had to please her so-called masters, nothing but a slave to a system of glorification and she loathed it. 

       The warm summer air graced her while she walked outside, heading to the area where she usually patrolled. Some people stopped her to take pictures and sign objects like backpacks and hats. The attention was nice but seemed more like a routine after a bit. She ran into the paparazzi every few hours, forced to do nothing but strike a pose and offer the cameras a loving smile along with answering questions to reporters searching for a story with ravenous hunger. She rounded up a few small-ranked villains, nothing new to her. Working throughout the night to finish up so law firm paperwork only made it more tempting to fall asleep during her breaks. She was sitting on a rooftop, watching the people below when she heard the flapping of wings behind her, the feeling of dread forming in her chest, greeting her like an old friend. 

      “Heyo!”

      “What do you want, Hawks?” Her voice usually met his ears in tones of irritation or vileness to the point where it was normal for both of them. Hawks sat next to her, offering her a prince charming-like smile before he spoke again. 

      “Still annoyed with me, huh?”

      “Of course. I wouldn’t be myself if I wasn’t, bird-brain.” 

      “ Ouch , why so harsh?”

       “Because I’m not gonna soften up my words for the golden child. You’re an adult now. Deal with it.” Sometimes she did feel bad with how she treated him, but whenever she saw his face, she only felt this hot flame of pure resentment claw its way up her throat and intoxicated her mind and tainted her words. Hawks just looked at her and sighed. 

       “Listen, I know the Pres constantly tells you to be like me-”

       “Which is why you should shut your mouth and stop asking why I don’t like you.”

        “I just wanna get to know you better, Amazon. We’re allies and if we ever get sent on a mission together, you’re going to have to be able to work with me to prevent failure.”

        “So this is turning to a lecture now?”

        “You know that’s not what I mean, Amazon.”

        “Yes, it is. For God’s sake, I don’t care about being your little buddy, Hawks.” 

        “I’m not looking to be friends. Just allies.”
“Well, if the circumstance comes to where we need to be allies, fine I will but you and I both know I wouldn’t hesitate to knock you unconscious for the sake of a mission.”

        “Likewise.”

       “Yeah, that’s expected of the golden child. He does whatever mommy and daddy tell him to.”

        “Oh come on, that’s not fair.”

        “That’s fair! That is so fair! You have no right to speak on things like what’s fair or not because things will always come back to your benefit.” She hissed, venom injected into those words as she got up and immediately went to finish the rest of her patrol. When Hawks flew down to the ground, he was immediately swarmed by fans and reporters, Hana biting the inside of her cheek as she walked, turning to face away from the life she so desperately wanted. Even after doing so much, she got so little in return and that was the worst feeling in the world. Everything she’s ever done was always tossed aside because something greater came along in seconds. She never got a second of glory to herself, and that made her anger fester into a wildfire of rage from within. It would only be a matter of time before it would burn everything she touched.

Chapter Text

           She was an absolute idiot. She was running down the sidewalk, weaving her way around strollers and businessmen, some calling her rude or giving her looks of disapproval as she scanned for her apartment complex. Once inside, she ran up the stairs, not even considering waiting for an elevator to open up in the lobby. She quickly put her key in the keyhole, twisting the knob with such a grip that she almost broke it. 

           “How was I supposed to remember there was an interview today? It’s not like they tell me these things anyway until the day of.” She mumbled, quickly taking off the top of her costume and throwing it on her bed, ignoring the distaste she had for laying things about in a sloppy manner. She pulled down her pants while running to the bathroom to shower, nearly tripping over herself as she got the hot water running. The bathroom began to fill up with steam as she undressed, avoiding looking at herself in the mirror. She stepped into the shower, sighing quietly as she began to lather her hair in shampoo and scrub her body. Her right hand was shaking, gripping the luffa tightly as she fought the urge to vigorously scrub at her scars. She couldn’t risk bleeding today. The cameras would expose it in minutes. Her nose was blind to the lavender-scented soap she’s applied for years. Her fans said they loved it, and who was she to deny them what they wanted? She was a servant of the people, whether she liked it or not. 

           She washed the shampoo out and applied some conditioner, waiting for a bit before rinsing that off too. She stepped out of the shower, drying off and taking out a corset. It was a modern corset, black with pretty lacing on it. She was a well-built woman, great in muscle and strength, yet also gifted with an hourglass body naturally. Of course, that wasn’t enough for the people, thinking big girls weren’t just as mighty as the smaller ones. Her popularity was low in those times and the Commission had recommended she made some changes. She in turn bought a corset, two actually, one built into her costume and the other for her to manually put on for other occasions. She had loathed it at first, believing she was nothing but molding clay for the Commission and the country to design to their will. She had no other option than to obey. Once she was finished lacing up her corset, she began changing into a tight white blouse and black pencil skirt, the skirt just above her kneecaps. She grimaced, tempted to pull it down but knew people would dislike such “modesty”. She sat down at her vanity, brushing her hair and carefully braided it, styling it into a braided bun, letting a few strands fall out of place while she stuck bobby pins to keep the rest of her hair steady. She looked at herself in the mirror, frowning at the dark circles under her eyes and the plainness of her face. She opened up a drawer and quickly put her makeup on, trying to conceal the bumps and small pimples on her face, making sure to put extra around her eyes and hide the physical and mental exhaustion from judging eyes. She applied eyeliner and lipstick, leaving no blemish uncovered. She stood up, looking at herself after she put on her heels. 

            “Just like a porcelain doll, spotless, elegant, and an ideal woman.” She muttered, sighing. Those words have been mere droplets of a sea of comments she has heard. She was taught that they were in fact compliments and recommendations that should be met, not the cold hands of monsters more wicked than the villains she fought with bravery and courage. Her face was what got her this far, a dull reminder to her each and every time she stepped outside of that beige apartment. It was agonizing, panic-inducing. However, the pains and fears she experienced the first time she was bathed in the flashing lights of the cameras and the voices of reporters and photographers flooding her ears were nothing now. She was numb, a limp doll waiting to be designed and modified into whatever the people wanted. She stopped weeping, stopped letting the hot tears stream down her cheeks. Tears and puffy eyes weren’t pretty. 

            She had gotten into the building where this interview was going to be held, checking in and waiting in a room quietly. She was on her phone, scrolling through emails. She didn’t have social media, knowing the heavy expectations on those platforms would further twist her mind into unhealthy expectations for herself, unhealthier than they already were. She had gotten up when her name was called, some of the employees in this media headquarters giving her discreet glances, some with lust, others with silent criticism. She had sat down in front of the cameras, ready to roll as the interviewer sat down in front of her, shaking her hand with a small smile on his face. She of course returned it, a little anxious when she spotted the small deck of flashcards in his hand. 

           “Amazon, it’s a pleasure to have you here.” She laughed, keeping that smile up as she nodded. 

           “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” He had held up his flashcards closer to his face, reading the first one. 

           “So now that we’re getting started, I just had to ask, how come you aren’t as popular as you should be?” Hana maintained her perfect posture, thinking, and choosing her words carefully. 

           “Well, there is no formula for being popular. You sort of have to experiment and see what the people like and what they don’t like. It’s fairly complex. The world is such a vast place filled with so many different people. A method for popularity is very difficult to make since there are so many different views and perspectives.” She replied as he nodded in understanding. 

           “It must be difficult. You only rank 20th on the billboard. Do you have any plans on getting into the top ten?” He asked as she sighed, chuckling. 

           “What hero wouldn’t? Making the top ten would be amazing.” She said. That much was true. It was one of the only things that she could want. Being in that spotlight would let people see what she really did, what she was trained to do. 

          The questions kept coming, Hana listening and giving truthful answers. Interviews like these were special to her. They were an opportunity for her to get her messages out there and show to the public that she was genuinely working in their best interests and wanted to do her best to keep them safe. More questions kept coming and she was happy to answer. She wanted the public to see that she too was a human and that she was just like them, imperfect with weaknesses and strengths. Heroes in society seemed to be immovable forces, adorned in glamor and praise, many doing so only for the benefits of paychecks and fame. Hana wasn’t like that. She wanted to be a protector, a guardian of life. 

          The cameras stopped recording, the staff leaving the room once everything was done filming. The interviewer smiled and shook Hana’s hand once again. 

            “It was nice having you here, Amazon.” He said, a lighthearted chuckle leaving the woman’s lips. 

           “It was a pleasure being here.” She said, noticing his eyes were looking her up and down, staring at her chest. 

           “I see. We should have you here more often, the people would love to hear more about a rising hero.” He said, putting a hand on her shoulder, grip a bit stronger. Hana tried not to make much of it, chuckling, a tad bit of anxiety swimming in her tone. 

           “Of course. That sounds lovely.” She said as he smiled, moving his hand down her skirt. She slapped it away immediately, eyes wide. There was silence for a moment, Hana staring at his bright red hand. 

           “Amazon-”

           “What the hell were you thinking?” She said, backing away, desperately trying to pull her skirt down. He came closer. 

           “I meant nothing by it, Amazon,” he said, obviously not learning his lesson as he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him, hands roaming her chest. She gasped in horror as she headbutted him, kicking him back towards the wall. 

           “That is disgusting , you vile excuse of a human being. How could you ever think laying a hand on a woman like that is justifiable?”

           “I mean, look at you! Your skirt is so short and your buttons are barely able to keep the shirt together. You were basically asking for it!”

           “That is bullshit! No outfit would ever equal consent. No woman is ‘asking for it’, understand? I’m reporting your ass. I don’t care if your little company tries destroying my reputation, either. Do it for all I care, you just tried to rape me. You nasty son of a bitch!” She growled as she stormed out of the building, trying to pull her skirt down. What if she didn’t have training? Would she have been a victim to him? What if she was too paralyzed by fear to do anything? Would she still be in that room, struggling to cry for help? The thought had tears form in her eyes in seconds. 

           She opened the door to her apartment, throwing her phone on her bed as she kicked off her heels and pulled the skirt down and took it off. She stared down at it for a moment, sniffling as she cried out, ripping it to shreds in seconds. She took off her shirt and did the same thing, screaming and stomping on the uneven strips of white and black fabric on the floor. She took her corset and threw it to the side of her bed, knocking over a vase she had by her bedside table, a sharp crash meeting her ears and broken pieces of porcelain scattering themselves all over the floor. She ripped the bobby pins out of her hair, pulling at her black locks as her structured bun collapsed, draping over her shaky form and covering her eyes. Her screams turned into cries, the woman falling on her knees, holding her head in her hands as she sobbed, hugging herself tightly, afraid that if she let go, that man would be there, hands moving to touch her again. She felt snot run down from her nose, lungs throbbing from the ragged breathing as her heart felt like it was bursting within her ribcage. She got up, walking to her vanity with shaky legs. Her lipstick was smeared all over her face, a large crimson brushstroke painted over the light concealer she had on. Her eyes became black rain, eyeliner dripping all around her eyes. Perhaps if she wore no makeup to that interview things could have been different. No, that’s what they wanted her to think. They wanted her to think of everything she could have done differently to distract her from the fact that she had been greatly wronged. Despite this fact, it still made her wonder. The woman looking back at her wasn’t her. What she saw was a helpless and pathetic little girl who is nothing but a people pleaser, a puppet. She let out a mournful cry as all she saw was white. 

         She felt sharp pains in her hands when she blinked. She looked down, her right hand filled with glass shards sticking out of her black and blue flesh, blood seeping from the deep cuts. She grimaced, looking up to see the mirror of her vanity nothing more than jagged pieces, some falling from the round frame. She sighed heavily as she got up, walking over to her first aid kit in the bathroom, beginning to patch herself up. She didn’t wince when she picked out the pieces of glass. She’s experienced much worse. Patching herself up from accidents was a common occurrence, whether that was normal or not. She laid down, wrapping herself up tightly in her covers, shaking as she buried her face into her pillow. 

And then she wept.

Chapter Text

        She took the next day off. She couldn’t bare painting her pale tear stained face with light blushes and crimson lipstick. The thought of putting her corset on was absolutely agonizing. Her body ached from the deep gashes imprinted on her flesh from the previous night of glass and porcelain. She slowly sat up, turning off the alarm that made her mind-splitting headache even worse. She groaned, staying swaddled in her blanket, a shaky sigh escaping her lips. She just laid there, no motivation for her to move coursing through her veins. Was the previous night some hallucination caused by a lack of sleep? She scanned her bedroom, grimacing when she noticed the demolished mirror and the missing vase on her bedside table. She smacked her fist against her mattress, screaming into her pillow, face becoming flushed with frustration. She slowly unwrapped herself from her blanket, her feet touching the cold wooden floor of her room. Her feet tingled a bit, cringing at the coldness as she made her way to the bathroom. She examined herself in the mirror above her sink, a quiet gasp leaving her lips when her eyes spotted the bruises on her legs and chest. She picked up her hairbrush with shaky and clammy hands, slowly making its way from her scalp towards her shoulders, brushing out the numerous tangles in her raven hair. Her grip on the brush tightened, glimpsing at her stick straight hair. Her hair was part of the reason why she was in that situation the previous night. Maybe if she was a little less pretty. Maybe if her hair was a matted mess and maybe if she was a bit more aggressive in pushing him away the first time she would be going to work today. 

          Work. That was the real cause of these thoughts,no? The belief that you were always at fault for your own errors. It was burned into their brains as they were trained to take any of the possible faults in a plan and fix them. They were trained to blame themselves. Every lost life was another heavy weight on their minds that will never fade away. Every failure was a reminder that they didn’t deserve what they were given. They were never taught to think beyond the textbook, voices monotone and bodies sluggishly moving along to whatever order they were given. They were never human. They were machines, victims. Empty husks of humans adorned in bright flashes of cameras and cheery remarks to the public to adore. They were the perfect soldiers, peacemakers of society. They were guardians to the people, nothing more. The bright colored costumes and the happiness they brought out was nothing but wisps of emptiness, only dead air being inside. They were not individuals, just lost children apprehended by the cold hands of corporations that used innocents as tools in their games. That was the truth, yet no matter how hard you tried to escape it, the Commission was still part of you and you were still part of the Commission, welded together permanently. There was no escaping it. There was nothing you could do and if you did manage to break away, you wouldn’t live long. You would never taste the solace given by freedom. That was a child’s dream that faded into nothingness as they aged and realized the world was far from sunshine and beating up bad guys. In the Commission, your self-worth and your dreams died. 

          She was never as talented as Hawks. When she thought she did well he always ended up doing better in less than half the time it took for her to get where she was. Every smirk from him, every word made her blood absolutely boil. People thought he was such a saint, a joy for the country to have. Men and women alike gawked at the beauty of his wings, ooo-ing and ahh-ing whenever he looked their way. The man could merely breathe and the country would feel absolutely over the moon. All they needed was his presence and they would absolutely collapse before him like he was some kind of god. He didn’t have to do a damn thing to get interviews or to have someone come up to him and ask to sign things. He didn’t need to ask for anything and just basked in the glory the Commission gave to him, yet he also left behind all of the other heroes just like him who worked just as hard. Everybody wanted to be Hawks. Everybody wanted the fame, the pay, the interviews, and the fanbase. They wanted every word that left their mouth to be in the newspapers the next day or to have women and men wish to be their spouse. They hungered for every single thing Hawks had materialistically. They didn’t care about helping people. They only wanted the rewards, the prize for being the favorite child of the Hero Public Safety Commission. They wanted to be the golden child, the chosen one to lead the way for the rest of them. 

         Hana didn’t want any of that. She just wanted to save the lives of others, to stand up for the people who couldn’t stand up for themselves. She wanted to be the voice of the underprivileged, encourage children to continue dreaming on and do what they think they’re greatest at. She wanted to shelter those who needed it and tend to those who could barely continue on by themselves. She wanted to be a woman of the people, a woman who could fully protect the country. She didn’t care about being at the number one spot or about money and the expensive apartments and cars. She could care less about the big parties and the expensive wines and the fanciest art pieces on their walls. All she yearned for was peace. She wanted people to stop and listen to her, hear her pleas to help the less fortunate. She just wanted to be thanked for her work, and wanted the people to acknowledge her hard work along with the hard work of the other heroes who just seemed to blend in as extras in a TV show that obviously put Hawks as the main character. After all, he was the star and they were all just background characters. Hana would workout whenever she wasn’t working and memorized more and more types of plants, testing her limits each and every day. Some days, she would tire her body out to the point where she would collapse, body sore and head pounding. She even went to law school by herself, managing her hero debut and the heavy assignments and undeniably difficult exams that happened weekly. She endured the sleepless nights, shrugged off the chills she got when she didn’t eat for a long time, thinking of the amount of people she could help if she just put in the work. She dreamed of the impact that she was going to make and the people that would appreciate the help. 

         That never happened. The work was unbearable for both jobs and yet her messages and work met deaf ears and blind eyes. People didn’t know Amazon, forgetting she was a hero at all. No matter how many nomus she would beat or how many villains she would take down all by herself, they didn’t seem to notice, intoxicated by Hawks. She believed her words were worth more than his, carrying more weight and clarity yet they always listened to the mindless and childish drawings that the Golden Child would utter. She was trapped in his shadow, her blood, sweat, and tears drying up behind his large crimson wings. She was never good enough and the Commission let her know whenever she made a mistake or whenever she could have done something better. To them, she was nothing but a glass vase filled to the brim with mistakes and only more continued to make their way inside. They waved off the sleepless nights, believing it to be their standard for her. Words of praise barely left their lips and the moments she took to rest were condemned heavily, her name becoming ‘lazy’ or ‘sluggish’. It took years before she accepted that she was nothing but a side soldier, lower ranking than their golden boy, their Icarus. She could die the next morning and she doubted they would even pay a single yen towards her funeral, if she got one at all. Even if she did, nobody would attend it, the woman immersed in her work too much to make genuine friends. If Hawks died, that was a different story. She’d bet the Commission would embalm him so his corpse would keep its youthful and handsome glow. They would probably lay him to rest in a golden casket or even a glass one on display for all to see. There would be streets filled with flowers and the mournful cries of the Japanese would be heard for years, yet if Hana died, the world would carry on without a second thought. 

         She compared herself to him heavily, every single day thinking about what he could be doing better than her. With every breath she took, she thought he was taking in a bigger and a better one. The people followed every single thing he did. People forgot her name and didn’t bother to learn it. She was a nameless hero: Forgotten Amazon. Every day for him was filled with attention and fun and good work, yet for her it was filled with agonizing body aches, hard and gruesome routines, and asserted glances with a touch of emptiness. It was a painful and burdensome way to live, but that was her reality. She always thought of her mistakes, wondering what Hawks would have done, if he would have gotten everyone out alive or if he could have done things better. He plagued her mind day and night and every single day her mind tortured her with sharp and painful thoughts, repetitive criticism and heavy discipline and the condemnation she got outside of her own head made it so much more painful. Hawks was a golden statue on a gorgeously carved pedestal, admired by others for hours upon hours. She was a broken vase on her bedroom floor, nobody even caring to ask why she was on the verge of completely shattering. Hawks was everything that anyone could ever want, a god among men. Hana was nothing, a shadow and nuisance to the public. He was so much better, so much more efficient. 

“Hawks wouldn’t have gotten sexually assaulted like that.”

         She felt all the air leave her lungs, staring at her glassy tear-filled eyes in stunned silence. She couldn’t even fully assess the words that left her mouth absent-mindedly. She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she took a makeup wipe from its container and wiped away the paint that made her such a priceless porcelain doll. Her dark circles greeted her almost immediately, making her stomach churn in disgust. She saw some of her pale skin festered with some red areas, definitely from skin irritation. She groaned at the sight, tying her hair up and just moving to change into pajamas. She wasn’t going out today, that much was evident. She had called the Commission to let her take a day off and reported the interviewer who had assaulted her. For once, they let her off the hook without any disapproval. It had surprised her but she didn’t take it as mercy, just what a human being should do when presented with the suffering of another. She had crawled into bed, moving the covers all the way up to her chin when her phone rang. She quickly picked it up, any relaxation escaping her body within seconds. She slid the phone icon across the screen and sighed, clearing her throat. 

           “What do you want, Hawks.” She only got a hearty laugh in response. 

           “Come on, Amazon, you can’t be that grumpy all the time, can you?” Just hearing his voice made her blood boil. She ran a hand through her hair and closed her eyes, holding the phone to her ear. 

           “What do you want, Hawks?” She repeated, just wanting to get this call done and over with. 

           “Well the Commission just let me know you won’t be on patrol today and I have an hour or two to spare. How about we go out to eat? I know this good breakfast place that you have to try out!” She didn’t like the guy in general but to willingly spend an hour or two with him especially after what happened the previous night just made her skin crawl. However, people would obviously notice Hawks and if she was nearby, perhaps she could possibly gain a platform to spread her name around a bit. She sighed, massaging one of her temples with her free hand. 

           “Now why would I want to do that?”

           “You need a breather, Amazon. Plus, you gotta unwind at some point, right? Nobody likes an uptight hero.” 

           “Whatever. Fine, I’ll take you up on that offer but even try and make me uncomfortable and I will not hesitate to beat your ass, understand?”

           “Of course. See you in thirty!” 

           “Whatever.”

         Hana forced herself to stand up and put her corset on, feeling her eyes get glassy all over again when she fastened it. She picked out a simple outfit, making sure it was long-sleeved so she could cover her body the best she could. Of course, most of her clothes were tight-fitting and somewhat on the short side, but she made it work. Putting the makeup on was the hardest. She had to sit at her bathroom mirror, her vanity mirror obviously shattered in her bedroom. She held the lipstick to her lips, hand shaking as she stared at herself in the mirror. Was she really doing this again? Trying to meet those beauty standards? She inhaled deeply before slowly putting it on, using her other hand to steady the shaking one. Once it was done, she sat there for a moment, closing her eyes as she tried her best to clear her head. She then took out her mascara, remembering the smeared mess on her face the previous night with black streaks running down her cheeks in a disheveled mess. She slowly managed to put it on, looking at herself in the mirror. It looked like nothing had happened the previous night, that the horrors she experienced was nothing but a horrifying dream from over-exhaustion. 

         A knock on her door snapped her out of her trance. She quickly got her things together, making her way towards the door and of course, Hawks was standing there. He flashed her a charming smile, leaning against the doorframe. 

           “Heyo, what’s good, Amazon?”

           “I mean I’m being dragged around by a boisterous camera magnet. What do you think?” She deadpanned only to get a laugh in return. 

           “Oh come on, it’s time to unwind. Let’s go.” She reluctantly followed behind him. Of course they got caught up in the groups of people trying to speak to the winged hero. Hana just stayed back and let him do his thing. Just seeing him surrounded by so many people made her chest twist up and her heart ache. Of course he pushed on and opened the door to a small restaurant, letting her in first. People immediately sat the two down, mostly because it was Hawks. Once he ordered his food, Hana had denied ordering anything. She had lost any appetite she had since the previous night. He frowned, laying his head against one of his hands. 

           “Not hungry? How come?” 

           “I’m just not.”

           “Come on, Amazon! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know that!” 

           “And you think I listen?”

           “You should. Reward your body for all that hard work you do.” A bitter chuckle left her lips, eyes straying from his gaze. 

           “There’s not much to reward.” His frown only grew as he looked at her closer. 

           “Come on, Amazon. You work hella hard. I mean, you do that law stuff with your own hero work. That’s a lot. Your body needs fuel to continue. Come on, this is elementary school stuff.”

           “Just drop the subject, Hawks.” He was quiet for a moment before plastering that signature smile on his face. 

           “Fine, uh, well your interview came out a bit earlier today. Not many avid watchers, though. That’s why I prefer interviews during the night since everyone’s home and are more likely to see it-“

          “Well some of us aren’t popular enough to get night interviews, Hawks.” The thought of that interview caused her hands to become clammy again, a throbbing pain continuing on and on in her chest. She began to twiddle her thumbs, eyes glued to the table and examining the intricate designs on the wood. 

          “Well, I’m sure I can help get your name out there.”

          “I don’t need your pity.”

         “That interview didn’t do you justice whatsoever. They gave you such stale questions, nothing to really strike you as unique. It was actually kinda sad on their par-“

          “I know how bad it was you don’t need to tell me.” She said, sighing shakily. Hawks watched, observing her body language slowly, drawing conclusions in his own mind. She was obviously nervous about something. He slowly started to lay his hand on her shoulder. 

          “Amazon-“ His hand was slapped away in seconds, her arms wrapping around herself tightly. 

          “Don’t touch me!” She moved to get up, starting to leave the restaurant altogether. So many people were staring, murmuring to themselves and each other. Hana’s hands were twitching and the pain in her chest grew and she was losing her ability to breathe. She could hear Hawks calling her name and coming after her, but she tried her best to tune it out. She whimpered, stopping in an alleyway and closing her eyes, sitting on the floor as she took in deep breaths, trying to get her emotions under control. 

         “Amazon, can you hear me?” She opened her eyes to see him kneeling right in front of her. She just held her head in her hands, taking in shaky breaths. 

         “P-Please just leave me be.”

         “Not while you’re like this.”

         “I’m fine, Hawks just please leave me be!” 

         “At least let me walk you home, okay?” She knew that it was her best bet so she had accepted, shaking as she walked beside him. He covered her with his wings to shield her from his stampeding fans. It was absolutely embarrassing for her and she loathed every minute of it. She didn’t need his pity. At her apartment, he let her open the door, eyebrows furrowed as concern formed on his facial features. 

         “Amazon, I’m sorry-“ He didn’t even get a reply back. She shut the door right in his face. She had laid down in her bed, not even bothering to take her clothes off like she did last night. She wrapped a blanket around herself and she laid there, feeling the tears form and stream down her face. She sniffled a bit, hugging herself tightly. 

“My mascara’s gonna look like absolute shit.” 

Chapter Text

        She was in a garden, a long-sleeved shirt tied around her neck, acting as a cape of some sort. She had a big grin on her face, body tingling with excitement as she ran around the field, laughing. Her body was weightless, unburdened by the anxieties of life. What was she playing again? She couldn’t remember, but whatever it was, it gave her the greatest joys of her life, for sure. She heard laughter behind her, small footsteps following her while she ran. She had no control of her body, her lips spilling out words, almost controlled by the ominous void of her memories. 

         “Save me, brother!” The footsteps trailing her own grew louder, quicker, hearing exhausted breaths leave the person behind her. She had a brother? She wasn’t quite sure why that had slipped her mind for such a long time. She felt small, delicate hands wrap around her waist as she was tackled down to the ground, the two of them rolling around on the grass before coming to a stop. Bright clothes now covered in dirt, the two of them just laid there for a bit, catching their breath. 

        “D-Did I do good?” That must have been her brother. His voice was quiet, timid even. However, the hesitancy didn’t seem to take away from his anticipation, waiting to be praised by his big sister. Hana felt a small smile form on her face. 

        “You did great.” She couldn’t say his name. It was lost to her, immersed in thick fog and too far out of her reach, at least for now. She heard a breath of relief as she wrapped her arms around her brother, holding him. She felt whole, at peace, for once and her life enjoying the moment she was in at that point in time. She could just lay there for hours and bask in the silence, the feeling of her brother’s head on her chest, the two just taking joy in each other’s presence. It was such a shame she could never remember his name. She looked down at her brother, her smile fading in seconds. 

He didn’t have a face, his pale skin overlapping his facial features. A look of horror washed over her, her younger brother tilting her head. 

        “What’s wrong, Hana?” He felt his hands slowly cause a burning sensation on her body, sharp pain that she thought that she had forgotten long ago. She let out a small cry, backing away from him. He crawled towards her, shaking, whimpering, calling out for her. The luscious grass under them began to decay, turning to dust in seconds. The environment around them began to crumble, dark clouds blocking out the bright sun above them. They were falling, tumbling down a dark abyss, her brother screaming out for her, everything he touched turning to dust.  His screams began to harmonize with others, different voices, all crying out for her. They were all so familiar, but she just couldn’t lay her finger on them. Each voice proved different in significance to her and evoked different emotions, all of them blending together. Guilt, fear, relief, and sorrow, all of these caused an aching in her chest. Her faceless brother was still screaming for her, arms outstretched, wanting her to hold him. She swallowed her fear, reaching for him as they continued to fall in the darkness, wrapping her arms around him. The burning feeling on her skin intensified, painful cries escaping her. She held him tighter, rubbing his back gently. She looked down, seeing her own body turn to dust. She didn’t seem to care, continuing to embrace her brother tightly. Her feet disintegrated, then her legs, then her waist. She felt a sharp pain in her back, more intense than the rest, excruciating cries leaving her lips, her throat becoming raw. She then became nothingness, returning to the dust from whence she once came from. 

        Hana sat up from bed, breaking out in a cold sweat, panicked breaths escaping her lips. She looked at her arms and legs, realizing she was still whole, and that she had been immersed in a dream. She sighed softly, running a hand through her hair. She felt a throbbing pain in her back, trying to lay down and make it go away. Of course, that didn’t happen. She groaned, kicking her blanket to the side of the bed, getting up, and heading to her bathroom to go to the only mirror left in her apartment. She turned on the bathroom lights, ignoring the dark circles under her eyes. She turned around, glancing at her back in the mirror, knowing exactly where the pain was coming from. It was her largest and oldest scar, taking up a good portion of the center of her back. It didn't have a particular shape like most scars, possessing jagged and sharp edges in random spots. She gently reached back and brushed her hand against it, wincing when the pain intensified. Her fingers ran along the rough area, feeling like she was touching sandpaper compared to the smooth texture her other decently healed scars possessed. This one was the oldest, yet the slowest in healing. She knew where each of her scars came from. Most of them came from hero-related combat, others from training. However, this one scar, in particular, was a mystery to her. She had it for as long as she could remember, the Commission telling her that she had it since they took her in, that she should just consider it to be a birthmark and carry on. Last time she checked, birthmarks didn’t hurt as much. She turned off the bathroom lights, crawling back under the covers, trying to get comfortable again. She felt a tightness in her chest, greeting her like an old friend. She wasn’t sure why that dream felt surreal to her, like she lived the life depicted ages ago. The memory was so fresh yet so broken, fragments scattered everywhere. Did she really have a brother at some point in time? The Commission never told her about one so she never asked, not wanting to question her saviors. If she did, he could be alone and afraid by himself, needing his big sister to wrap her arms around him just like she had in the dream. Hana...that name was so foreign to her, a token of the past, never to be used in her life. She only used Hana when it came to medical documents and important legal situations, the rest of the time her name was Amazon. She spent the majority of her life being Amazon, Hana being a different girl. She couldn’t even remember who Hana was, what she used to do or who she used to be. Hana was a stranger. She was a stranger to herself. 

        She ended up not sleeping that night. That wasn’t the first time, so she wasn’t affected much. She just ended up downing three cups of coffee instead of two that morning to give her an extra kick. Coffee lost its taste after a few years of religious drinking. Now it was just her means of keeping awake, like medicine for a bad night’s rest, not so much as a drink to enjoy during the beginning of your morning. The first time she had coffee completely slipped her mind, perhaps when she was in her mid to late teens. She was still in her early hero days, mornings being hell knowing the beating her body was going to take in training every single day. Coffee woke her up more, gave her a push of motivation to give her best. As she got older, her body needed more to retain the same effect. One cup became two. Two cups became three. It wasn’t pleasurable anymore, just a necessity, a part of her routine and like her routine, it became bland, void of joy. She took a sip from her mug, immune to its bitter taste as she went through her email, groaning when she noticed the Commission had emailed her, letting her know she had a meeting about her hero status today. They were occasional updates by the Commission on their personally trained heroes and their performance. Hana viewed it as a “monthly ass-whooping" considering all they did was yell at her about how she didn’t compare to Hawks despite managing two equally difficult jobs at the same time from the crack of dawn to ungodly hours of the night. Hana noticed her scheduled meeting was in three hours. She closed her tired eyes, massaging her temples as she decided to brew another cup of bland coffee. 

       Getting ready now was a struggle. The idea of makeup brought her back to the night with the reporter, his hands touching her thighs and chest. She felt suffocated just thinking about it, sometimes trying to convince herself that she didn't need makeup and could spend her hero days makeup-free. Of course, the reality of flashing cameras and her image on billboards told her otherwise. She applied her foundation with careful hands, putting on her mascara and lipstick with great delicacy thinking one blemish could be exposed in seconds under the eyes of the Commission President. She applied her blush slowly, admiring her made up face in the mirror, her insides twisting at the sight. She put her corset on, making sure that it was extra tight, taking in a few strangled gasps as she made it tighter than she usually did, picking the most business casual outfit she had that she didn’t use in court. She looked at herself in the mirror, knowing the media and Japan would be happy with what they saw. Hana thought otherwise, but her life wasn’t about her preferences, it was about her service to the people. 

        The walk to the Commission building was boring, not many people paying much attention to her. Sometimes she wished that someone would stop her, thanking her for all that she had done to keep the country safe, yet that seemed more like a fantasy than a reality. Gratitude was growing to become a foreign concept for her, the belief that she didn’t deserve it much festering, like devastating cancer. She was an unfamiliar face to the public, her media presence faint if there was any at all. That’s why that interview was so important to her, it was one of her only opportunities to get herself out there. Not only did she leave there with handprints on her thighs and waist, but she also left with a shitty interview take that played only in the early morning. Hana shut her eyes, trying to block out the memory. It was something that she unconsciously recalled often these days, and the guilt still followed her, like an old friend she’s been trying to avoid. 

       When she checked into the Commission lobby, it didn’t take long for her to get called into the President’s office. Hana didn’t like the woman much, thinking of her as a soulless loon who only cared about the views on hero society and the top ten, which wasn’t far from the truth. Any hero that wasn’t important or prominent in society was discarded by her unless they were on their deathbed. Hana learned that quickly enough. The reason she was still getting calls from this woman was solely for the fact that she had a powerful quirk, one that carried her into their cold, soulless arms in the first place. She remembered vividly the warm smile she was given, the reassurance that she would have a place to learn how to use her quirk properly and be a hero, just like she always dreamed of. It was a snare adorned in gold, presented by the Devil herself. She appeared as an angel of light, a savior, but as Hana grew, she began to grow horns and talons, loving eyes becoming cold and dull. She slipped up as a child and called her "mama" once. She ended up getting slapped and was told to respect her higher ups more and to be professional despite only being nine years old at the time. Hana couldn’t seem to remember what a motherly figure was like anymore, her actual mother being buried deep in her long lost memories. It didn’t matter much anyway since she belonged to the Commission. 

       The Commission President greeted her with a curt smile, one entirely made of professionalism, nothing more. Hana bowed, taking her seat in front of the damned woman’s desk, hands folded neatly on her lap and posture straight. There was no smile on her face, just emotionlessness. The President typed on her computer quietly, dreary cyan eyes scanning the screen. 

        “For one thing, your performance in villain apprehensions and investigations is incredible. Just this month you put a stop to sixty villains. That’s quite impressive, but of course, you could be better. Hawks rounded up his hundredth just two weeks ago. It’s mostly since he doesn’t have to go to court every few days or stay up reading cases, no?” Hana bit back an annoyed growl and took in a deep breath, closing her eyes. 

        “With all due respect, ma’am, the justice the court administers is just as important as that of the heroes fighting to put a stop to these villains. They capture them, fight them, and have them arrested, but that’s usually the end of the story. Not for me. I take up numerous cases, getting to the bottom of why they acted the way they did and usually end up seeing a bigger problem than what the heroes did at first glance. The work I do in the courts is just as important as the work I do on my patrols.” The President didn’t speak, moving her finger along her touchpad on her computer, staring at the screen. 

        “That interview you did recently, we need to talk about that.” Hana’s chest began to ache, hands growing clammy and shortness of breath increasing. Her eyes burned, tears starting to form. The President stared at her for a moment, sighing with irritation. 

        “I understand that the interview didn’t do as well as the two of us hoped, ma’am. It was completely my fault and I could have brought more to the conversation. I would rather not talk about it, though since the man who conducted the interview sexually harassed me as I stated in the call I made to you that night when I reported his actions. This shouldn’t be taken as disrespect. I would rather just not speak about it.” The President chuckled a bit, moving her head to the side to look at the young woman herself. 

       “This is completely understandable. However, we need to talk about your image as a whole. The country doesn’t know who Amazon is. They most likely think of you as a D-list hero who was never special to begin with. They most likely think you trained and got your license at a lower-ranking hero school when you were personally trained by the best of the best. We gave you everything you needed. We taught you from childhood how the hero system worked and how to make it to the top. You have the work ethic, Amazon. You need better presentation.”

        “A-Are you scheduling another surgery?” 

       “No, if you got another one, the public would dismiss you as a plastic. However, I will have my publicity team arrange for you to have some modeling gigs and hopefully get you plastered somewhere on a billboard.”

        “Thank you, ma’am.”

        “I’m just making sure none of our hard work and money spent on raising you isn’t being wasted. I’d recommend you ask Hawks for modeling advice. Magazines and papers with his face on them get sold the most. He’d most definitely be happy to help and I’m sure you can learn something from him. He’s accomplished so much at such a young age. He should be a huge inspiration for you.”

       “He is.” She was lying through her teeth. They both knew it. The President looked at her, mostly in disdain, eyes narrowed for a moment before closing her computer. 

        “You are dismissed, then. Keep working.” Hana got up, bowing, hesitating for a moment, and standing by the doorway, silent. If anyone knew anything about her background it would be the President. 

        “Ma’am, I do have a question for you.”

        "What is it? Hurry up, I’m going to run late for a meeting.”

        “Did I have a brother? Biologically? Do you even know my last name?” The silence that followed let Hana know that it was something sensitive, almost forbidden. The President was silent, frowning and getting her things together. 

        “None of that is your business. You are Amazon, the Forest Hero. Nothing more and nothing less. I would focus less on your familial ties and more on your heroic achievements. Is that understood, Hana ?” The poor girl was shaking, drawing in ragged breaths as she nodded quickly. 

        “O-Of course, ma’am. I’m sorry I asked. I will not do so from now on.”

        “Good. Now go and get to work and I don’t mean those silly court cases of yours. I mean getting in the public eye. Stand still and look pretty for the cameras.”

        “I understand.” When Hana left the Commission building, she was more unsettled and defeated than she had been compared to when she first walked inside. She sighed, running through her schedule for the day in her mind. Today was one of her more relaxing days, perhaps she could squeeze in a drink or two at home. It was rare for her to drink, but she mostly did so after her regular meetings with the President. She couldn’t stand getting through the rest of those days sober. She didn’t drink with anyone, doing so in the comfort of her own home. She usually ended up crying on the floor watching Korean dramas, not that she minded the sorry state she would be in after those meetings. The thought of just going home was tempting, but she knew better. She knew she had more people to save. However, the hesitancy the President possessed when she asked about her family struck a chord with her. Why was she more dismissive than usual? Was there really something worth hiding? The yearning to know where she was from was increasing, possessing her mind and consuming every thought throughout the day. She thought of it during her patrols and during the time spent reading over court cases that day. When her workday was done and she was sitting on her couch drinking Moët champagne, she opened her laptop, looking up prices for DNA ancestry kits. Finding her family was a good way to start and if she really did have a brother, she wanted to find him. She scrolled through the reviews and types for each kit, analyzing their pros and cons quietly, taking a sip of her champagne as she scanned the reviews. Once she selected one and purchased it, she put her glass down, smiling, 

“Maybe soon I can put a face on you, little bro.”

Chapter Text

        The past wasn’t meaningful much to Hana. The world would continue to turn after the greatest of wars and any mighty figure would be nothing but dust give or take a few years. Sometimes she figured that life was an endless cycle, a scientific instinct to just continue and multiply. She figured that the fear of death was just an instinct for survival. The motives for fame were plain as day. Some wanted to bathe in yen, dine at fancy tables, and drink expensive wines. Others wanted admiration, fancy clothes made of the finest fabrics and appear on the largest screens. It was always what they wanted, the yearning to obtain their deepest desires. Hana found such motives to be the reason why hero society was going to crumble one way or another. It was filled with the greedy and the prideful, people who thought of what they could gain rather than what they could give. The people were blind, putting such individuals on golden pedestals, adorning them with flashing lights, paychecks, and headlines when in reality they were praising wolves in sheep’s clothing. 

        Hana used to fantasize about becoming a hero one day, saving those who were in need of help and being an inspiration for people. She wanted to be able to motivate the discouraged and remind people of their worth, all while saving lives. Of course, her words were muted, ignored, tossed aside. She got more attention from her coworkers at her law firm than on the streets saving people from crumbling buildings or villains with gruesome intentions. She was having more victories in the courts than she did in the hero world. To be honest, she didn’t mind either. She wanted to help where help was needed, and she was doing just that with her clients. In the courtroom, she always had perfect posture, the facts and points she wanted to make in the back of her mind. Her words to the judge and the jury were filled with deep convictions and passion. Every sentence was a composition of fact and belief, her words sweetened with her rich and vast vocabulary. She refuted numerous objections from prosecutors and overcame any contradictions one could come up with to defend her client. Despite such great talents, sometimes the judge was not on her side and she would lose, but that only further sparked her motivations to do better with her performance, to create strong and hopefully impenetrable arguments. She worked until the early morning on her cases, sipping her bland coffee as she read pages upon pages of documents and typed up her own statements. She was a woman that could not be moved, and she wanted to keep up that reputation. However, no matter how many people she liberated with her words in the courts, she was still silenced in the hero world. 

        Hero conferences were extremely boring, and that was coming from someone who would sit through hours upon hours in a courtroom over the dumbest of offenses. The bland beige walls and the spiritless heroes present only made it more difficult to pay attention. Hana would try and go above and beyond in her hero work, no matter how tempting it would be to just zone out and daydream mindlessly as her superiors would talk nonstop. She would maintain her posture, eyes focused on the speaker, and take notes. Hawks would be slouched over, head resting in one of his hands, staring off into the distance. Hana didn’t pay much attention to him, focusing on the topics being discussed and writing down important things to note. To be honest, she was the only one that was actually paying attention the whole time. Hawks even teased her about it. 

        “You’re taking notes like a straight-A student in school.” He chuckled, the girl raising an eyebrow as she turned in his direction. 

        “What’s wrong with that? It’s important I remember what was discussed. For someone who ranks so high in our society, you do seem childish in nature. You zone out a lot. What are you, daydreaming? Immersing yourself in your own fantasies?” She only got a hearty laugh in response and a pat on the back, her body tensing up immediately. 

        “Nah, I just don’t need to write things down like you do. All that information is stored up here and is just fine.” He said, pointing to his head. Hana rolled her eyes, arms crossed as they strolled through the halls of the Commission building. 

        “Writing things down aids your memory. You know that, right?” 

        “Of course I do! I just don’t feel like it. Besides, I remember information when I need it, even if it isn’t written down.”

        “Yeah, yeah.” Despite the obvious tension between the two, they did have some good conversations sometimes, whether Hana liked to admit it or not. The guy gave good advice, and she did the same for him sometimes. At the need of the day, they were comrades, taking on society as heroes. They were dedicated to the people and to each other, ready to save the other if need be. 

        “So, what have you been up to, Amazon?” She bit her lip, unsure if she wanted to be truthful to him, but then realized how much he could actually tell based on her body language alone. He could be an idiot, but he was far from stupid. 

        “I got a DNA kit the other day and sent it in so I could see my ancestry.” Hawks blinked, eyebrows raised with surprise before a small smile formed on his face.

        “What, you wanted to find out if you were secretly descended from some ancient wealthy dynasty or something?” Hana rolled her eyes, looking ahead of them before continuing. 

        “No, I’ve been having dreams of this boy, a little boy. He kept calling me his sister, yet whenever I went to look at him, he never had a face. His voice is familiar, so vivid in my memory, yet I can’t attach it to a face. I have nothing to match it to, and when I brought up my family to the President, she told me not to mention it again. That being said, I just had to investigate it myself if nothing was going to be given to me.” He hummed in understanding, smiling slightly. 

        “Well, that’s interesting. Considering how you didn’t remember anything when you came here, it’s probably a good sign if you’re starting to remember. Best of luck to you when you get those results back. If it turns out to be nothing, you should probably cut back on the coffee.”

        “You’re one to talk.” He only laughed, wings extending as he began to fly once they were out of the building. 

        “Very funny. Seriously, good luck, Amazon! Catch ya later!” He hollered before flying off, Hana watching the golden child fly amongst the clouds. 

        She got her results mailed in the next morning. She had waited until work was over on both ends before sitting down to read what was inside. She opened the envelope carefully, reading through all of the formalities and such. 

Shimura 

        Her last name was Shimura. That definitely rang bells for her, but she didn’t know where just yet. How could something so familiar to her be so foreign at the same time? She spent a majority of her life not knowing her own last name. She just knew her first name and even then it wasn’t used much. They were two separate identities, one full of life and confidence...and the other one just filled with emptiness. She turned over another piece of paper, finally finding her family tree. She started from the top, noting her ancestors of the past, still valuing the information even though it wasn’t what she was initially looking for. Then, she found out exactly why her last name seemed so familiar to her. 

Paternal Grandmother: Nana Shimura

        The woman was a goddess in the hero world. She was a gorgeous woman blessed with great strength and charisma. Her smile was infectious to hundreds of thousands at a time, and she was labeled as one of the greatest heroes of all time. Her interviews were worshipped by young aspiring female heroes and her confidence and boldness with the media was still unmatched to this day. Hana used to read about her in her hero research courses, absolutely hypnotized by her greatness. She was beloved for her power and her golden heart, people nationwide admiring her for her hard work in such a daunting field. When she passed, Japan was devastated, hundreds of thousands weeping when her face was on the news, not for a new victory against a villainous foe or an act of goodwill for the country, but as an announcement of death, an end of a gracious era in hero society. Hana looked at the woman’s name on the paper, feeling a sense of pride swell up inside of her. 

        “This is my grandmother...wow.” She then found the name of Nana’s son, her father. Kotaro Shimura. The man’s picture was quite intimidating at first glance. He had a firm expression on his face, eyes lacking any form of energy or bliss. He looked like he was bored out of his mind, like he had more important things to attend to. Hana couldn’t blame him as while she looked over who he was, he was in fact a wealthy businessman. When she saw that he was put into foster care at a young age, a small frown formed on her face. 

        “Now why would she do that to her own child?” Hana had her assumptions. She’s had cases where parents, specifically heroes, put their children in the system to prevent them from being targeted by villains. While she understood they had good intentions, the mental scars that were left behind to fester in the minds of their children could have horrible effects, more than the parents could comprehend. She looked on and saw her mother, Nao Shimura’s face, so sweet and loving even when frozen in time in a photograph. She could just sense the warm hugs this woman would give, and could almost hear her voice singing her lullabies while she was tucked in bed, drifting off to sleep after a long day of playing. Her parents seemed to complement each other, the strict businessman with a heart seemingly made out of stone falling in love with the brightest light in the room, the angel with a heart of gold. It seemed like it could be made into a romance novel of some kind. Perhaps she could find her parents and visit them someday soon. Maybe she could take off a day or two to go and visit them. She didn’t understand why they would leave her in the hands of such an awful organization, using her as a weapon and symbol of beauty to the ravenous media, but surely things could be forgiven if they had the right reasons. 

        Her heart almost stopped when she saw that they were both deceased. They had been for years, as many years as she had lived in a forgetful haze, blind to their own existence. She felt a hand come over her mouth, tears forming in her eyes as she slowly found her own name and next to it was the name of a little boy: Tenko Shimura, her little brother. Her eyes widened as she inspected the picture carefully. He looked so much like her. He looked so small, so fragile, like a single touch could shatter him into millions of pieces. She placed a hand by the picture, absolutely breathless. This was who she was seeing in her dreams. She slowly looked to his status, her blood running cold. 

Missing and Presumed to be Deceased

        She couldn’t find any words to say. Her brother could still be alive and out there. However, it was obvious that whatever happened wasn’t some random occurrence. Their dates of death were the same, and her maternal grandparents who lived in the same home were dead the very same day. On that day, her little brother also went missing. This had to be an incident of some sort. Kidnapping? Murder? There were so many unknown variables, so many things that she would need to determine possible factors that could lead to their cause of death. While she was a hero, she couldn’t just barge in and demand records of their autopsies and such. She had to do this on her own. If the Commission heard of her requesting an investigation into their deaths, that would raise numerous red flags. She truly had to do this on her own, especially if she wanted any hope of finding her little brother. If there was even a sliver of a chance that he was alive, she was going to take it. Hana took out her computer, beginning to look and find the former Shimura home. Once she got the location, she sighed with relief when she found out that it was still there and unoccupied. She got up and grabbed her car keys, taking in a deep breath. 

        “I’m gonna find out what the hell happened in that house.” 

        When she pulled up to the street where the Shimura house stood, she was astounded by how many trees surrounded the house specifically. It was worn down in structure but stuck very close to traditional Japanese design, built on a foundation of packed stones, orderly in composition. The house itself was supported by wooden columns, though the wood seemed to have aged greatly, and what made it even more alarming was that it was covered in vines, spreading over the structure like a parasite of some kind. The ground did have some cracks, Hana carefully walking towards the front door only to completely trip over something. The ground below her was completely overrun by more vines. She slowly got up, brushing herself off. The teal kawara tiles on the roof were chipped, starting to get overrun by vines as well. She frowned, taking a few pictures of the exterior of the house before slowly opening the front door, getting out her flashlight, and turning it on. 

       The place was large, definitely due to the family’s immense wealth from Kotaro’s business success. However, it was completely in shambles. The tatami mats were filled with mold, the corners of the house overrun by spiderwebs and insects that made Hana’s skin crawl. She took a few pictures of the living room, noticing some photos on the wall. One of these pictures was a family portrait. Nao sat in a chair to the right, smiling that sweet smile of hers at the camera. Kotaro stood in the middle, his face stoic as usual. In between them was little Tenko, staring into the distance. He looked like he had been scratching his neck, his little hands not so far away from it. Then to the left and in front of her father was a little girl. She had a soft smile on her face, much like her mother’s. She wore her hair in pigtails, looking at the camera. Hana stared at her for a moment, her hand brushing the girl’s face, not caring if her fingertips were collecting dust. Who was this child? Surely it wasn’t her. This little girl looked nothing like her. She put a hand to her own face, frowning. How did she become so unrecognizable? How could such an adorable young girl get made into “the perfect woman”? How could she let this little girl get put under so many times, waking up and seeing a different person every single time? How could she let such an innocent girl wear corsets, go under whenever requested, and treat each and every recovery like it was a routine? 

        She started getting the surgeries when she was in her mid to late teens. The Commission President had scheduled one for her, saying that it was to make her public appeal increase. At the time, she didn’t find much wrong with it, especially with the incentive that she would be more popular and therefore have bigger opportunities to spread her message. One surgery didn’t change much about her. The President stated that it was to fix and polish up the imperfections of her body, to make her into a more appealing woman, whatever that meant. One surgery turned into two more. Two more turned into three. She became numb to the markers drawing numerous lines on her face, marking where they would move to “fix” her. She wasn’t phased seeing all the surgical equipment on their trays, or being told to count down from ten, waiting for the anesthesia to put her to sleep. She was gorgeous, as the surgeries didn’t make her appear to be anything plastic or fake. Rather, she did in fact look like a natural beauty. Nobody would even suspect that she’s gone under the knife for the sake of approval ratings. However, the more “beautiful” she got, the more she couldn’t recognize herself. She had to adjust to her reflection, getting used to the person staring back at her. People praised her for her looks, calling her gorgeous and a gift from God for her beauty. However, the recovery was painful. All of the marks where incisions once were or the bruising and swelling that she felt and saw when she woke up each time was agonizing, but the internal resentment towards herself for changing in the first place was more painful than one could ever know. Seeing herself so young in that portrait, so beautiful and full of life, only reminded her of what she’d done to herself. She felt tears form in her eyes as she raised her phone up and snapped a picture of the portrait. She found pictures of her maternal grandparents. They looked so sweet, like the type of old people who would call you “dearie” or “sweetheart”. She wondered what they were like, her mind drifting off once again of what she lost. She wandered through more rooms, taking pictures and such. She found a dog bed and dog food and water bowls. They had a dog? She wondered what type, trying to remember, but nothing came to mind. 

        She found what presumed to be her father’s office, neat and tidy. That made sense as a man as prestigious as himself was probably a neat freak, making sure that everything was kept in order and each paper or item had a place somewhere. She opened drawers, taking out documents and snapping photos. When opening one drawer, she found an aged photo, one of the beloved Nana Shimura with a young boy. Both looked so happy, obviously frozen in a better time, a time of euphoria. Hana knew that the little boy had to be her father. She could only imagine what could have happened to take such happiness and replace it with a cold stare and an expressionless face. She hesitantly took the photo and placed it in one of her pockets, making sure it was secure before continuing her investigation. There were rooms completely overwhelmed by vines, large and tough ones bursting through the windows, spreading through the floors. It was like a giant monster, growing and slowly consuming the structure whole. Hana found it bizarre, as the plants in the area didn’t match the kind of trees surrounding the house let alone had an environment that naturally produced vines such as the ones in the house. She had gone home and looked through her evidence, tired eyes looking over every single picture she took. This family looked so happy, so pure. 

“What the hell happened here?”