Chapter Text
It was official, his first year at Kyuen had come to an end. As eager as he had been to train to be a hero, he could hardly say he was upset to be going. He'd seen far too much of what heroes really were. He thought it would be a good opportunity to prove himself, to show the world, his peers, his parents that a blood quirk could be used for good. But if that's what a hero was, all glory and violence and loud showing off, he wasn't so sure he even wanted to associate with such people. He would give himself the summer. That's what he'd promised himself. One summer to convince himself that someone could see sense, that anyone cared about the damage society was doing. If he was wrong, then… He'd just have to figure it out. He'd drop out at least, before they could get to him too.
It had been a good year, if only for what he learned. He'd been wrong himself going into it, looking for praise from someone, but he knew that now. That was the difference. Chizome Akaguro, or Cullen according to his hero license, had no plans to be a hero for anything but the good of others. It had been a doubtful thing at first, questions about the morals they were given and protests about the fighting techniques they were fed. It had started with simple rebellions, using small ninja stars instead of the knives they'd tried to give him, lying his way out of certain exercises, but it had gotten to the point of suspensions as the year's end drew closer. He had no regrets. It was important to know, crucial even, so really what was wrong about digging through reports on quirkism and criminal death and the like?
Now here he was, printed off flyers in hand, standing on the fountain wall in the middle of the mall. He felt a little stupid, but it was as good a place as any. Plenty of people passing, young and old, accepting and brainwashed. It was only a matter of time before his parents found out about this, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. His mother worked for the hero commission, recruited people to be trained up as soldiers. His father was a reporter. Really, it was no miracle he got into a private school for hero training even with his quirk, a new mutation in their family. It had given him no advantage in life, always chalked up to be like anyone else with a blood quirk. He was lucky though, he'd taken to quirk therapy quickly. Any urges to kill, to hurt, to ingest as much blood as he could was now turned inward. That was good enough for the program. Good enough for his parents. If anything, they'd been excited that he took interest in heroics. Encouraged it, said it would save him from what he faced growing up over his quirk.
As he thought of it, that was just another point on his long list of adjustments society needed to make. He tucked the flyers between his knees, scribbling on his arm in sharpie. "Quirkism is less acceptable when about a hero". He had a notebook full of points such as that at home, hidden away in a drawer with a fake bottom so nobody would dispose of it. They'd want to get rid of any doubt in his mind, like they'd try to get him to stop what he was trying to do here.
It certainly wasn't easy, getting himself here. Sure, the mall wasn't far from his house, all that had taken was the excuse of shopping with friends and a short walk. Mentally though, that was another story. Sneaking the hundreds of papers out under his shirt, praying no one from Kyuen saw him, convincing himself this was worth it. Now that he was standing here though, of course it was. This was how change was made in history, wasn't it? A person who sacrificed whatever they had to to show the injustices the world refused to face. He was perfect for it. Had the insight of the hero commission, had seen how heroes in training were taught to handle things, had done his research. It certainly wasn't anything that could be printed onto a piece of paper handed out at the mall, but if he stood here long enough, people would listen. Even if just to laugh at first, they'd listen. They'd have to.
This was only day one. That was what he had to remind himself. Only halfway through day one, at that. As few people paying attention as there had been, it felt like a bit of a waste, but Rome wasn't built in a day. "Hi, hello," he said quickly, waving at a woman sparing him a glance as she passed. "My name's Chizome Akaguro, I'm a first year student at Kyuen. Please take this." He offered her a bow, thrusting a flyer at her.
"Um… What is it?" she asked, taking it hesitantly.
"I'm training to be a hero, and I've made some observations about the way society works. Heroes, specifically. People die needlessly every day at the hands of people that are supposed to be protecting them, and that's saying nothing of---"
"Sorry, I'm confused. Why are you training to be a hero then?"
He composed himself a bit, reminding himself that fiery passion could wait. He'd look like a crazy person if he went too far, and he had to seem rational. "I want to help people. That's what heroes should be. That's their job. But don't you think it's unfair that so many people go into it for selfish reasons? If you're focused on glory and money, then you'll be distracted from doing what's best. That's why villains have it so hard for stupid things like robberies, and why Tartarus is so secretive. We should know what's going on in our prisons. And---"
"But they're villains."
"But they're people ," he retorted. "They're not in the right, things should be done, but heroes are so focused on rankings and riches and competing with each other that they're no better. Regulations on heroes are ignored, and it just leads to---"
"They're just doing their jobs."
"It just leads to people being hurt needlessly. Heroes are directed to use---"
"You're saying heroes are distracted by money, but they have to be paid."
"Heroes are directed to use force before even really trying to reason with people, and above all they're taught to use more power, bigger moves, be faster. They treat it like a video game, not someo---"
"We have to pay them, you realize."
"Not someone's life. That's someone's life . What if it were you? If you had to steal stupid things like food, and that got you beaten to a pulp and your attacker got glory for it?"
"Then don't steal things."
"What if you had a mutation quirk, and you had to be worried about being mistaken for a villain all the time?"
"Okay, okay," she said, folding up the flyer. "Look, I don't wanna argue, okay? You have fun with your… punk… whatever this is." Before Chizome could say anything else, she walked off, not even bothering to hide throwing the piece of paper in the trash can. That was okay. It was early. So early on in his attempts. He'd gotten someone to listen, sort of. That was better than anyone else had done that day.
He tried not to be discouraged as he walked home, arms folded over his chest to support the paper tucked under his jacket. It was a simple mistake. He'd gotten too heated. He didn't answer any of her questions, silly as they seemed to him. It was a decent start though, he thought. "Hello, my name is Chizome Akaguro. I'm in my first year at Kyuen… Could use something else there before I give them things," he mumbled to himself. "I'm here to… I'm here to express some concerns about our society. No, that's too intimidating. I'm here to bring your attention to some thoughts I have on… Is that too long winded?" He kicked a small rock along the sidewalk, thinking. "I'm here to inspire change. Too corny. I'm here to… Let's just drop that. May I have your attention for a few minutes? Yeah, yeah, that's good."
No one was home. That was a small blessing. Even so, he crept up to his room quietly, more a habit than anything. His flyers were put carefully back in place, his earlier note to himself written down and rubbed off his skin, and his bag full of items as an excuse to have been out placed on his bed. He couldn't hide for long. He knew that. But even if they found him, this had to be right. He wouldn't be so afraid yet so convicted if he was wrong. Perhaps his logic had its flaws, but he was the only one that could really see, it seemed. He'd keep at it until everyone could see.