Chapter Text
Phoenix
/ˈfiːnɪks/
noun
(in classical mythology) a unique bird that lived for five or six centuries in the Arabian desert, after this time burning itself on a funeral pyre and rising from the ashes with renewed youth to live through another cycle.
Taylor
Long ago in Jeju, South Korea, a boy of five manifested his Quirk in a pair of glorious blue wings that sprouted from his back at impromptu intervals before quickly bursting into aggressive flames. When further study was conducted, the feathers of these wings were found to contain healing properties - potent enough to be able to heal broken bones and even rectify internal bleeding. They called him the “miracle boy,” and flocks of people would cross the sea to be treated with his Quirk - which by then, had gained the name “Healing Wings.”
Since then, the Quirk has skipped a generation. It has long been feared due to its drawbacks - but Eugene Choi, better known as Phoenix, defied that prejudice by becoming the first to master the Quirk to its full potential. He retired after becoming a father of three and grandfather of four - one of those grandchildren being both blessed and cursed with the power to heal those who have been injured.
“Taylor, breakfast’s ready!”
That’s me, Taylor Murphy. 18, fresh out of school, living in London with her parents and older brother. Since finishing my A-levels, I have searched far and wide for a suitable agency where I can hone my Quirk to the same level as my grandfather did. However, there has been no luck so far - at least within England. Without my parents knowing, I have put in endless applications for agencies in Japan - the country with the largest network of pro heroes and the most advanced Quirks. The home of UA Hero Academy and the birthplace of the Symbol of Peace. Over the past week, I went through the application process for the Rabbit Hero Mirko's agency, along with Mt. Lady and Edgeshot just in case I get rejected. But the odds seem to be in my favour so far, as I have been given a Skype interview with Mirko in a week's time.
Having been jolted awake by my mother’s call, I grab my glasses and throw my curtains back, the early June sun stinging my eyes. Without hesitation, I wash my face before hastily changing into a pair of skinny blue jeans and a lilac oversized T-shirt, pulling my hair into a half-up ponytail and leaving my face bare. As I join the rest of my family downstairs in the dining room, I greet my dad and my brother Jake with a sleepy “Good morning.”
“Morning, Tay,” Dad responds with a smile as I help myself to a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee. He's already dressed in his work clothes - a blue checkered button-down with grey trousers and a navy blue tie, his black hair combed back and his glasses perched on his nose as he scrolls through the newspaper on his iPad. Since his Quirk allows any injury he touches with five digits to be healed, he has been able to build up his own private healthcare business practically from dust since leaving medical school. It was at his work that I trained as a paramedic during my time at sixth form; after five years at the London Hero Academy proved to be a toxic, over-competitive environment that only dragged my spirits down.
Sitting two chairs across from me is Jake, who is multitasking as usual by reading over his university notes while blankly eating a piece of buttered toast. By contrast to his father, he is wearing a red and black flannel over a white T-shirt and black jeans, his hair still damp and his pale face pink from the shower.
Mum walks up to me on the other side of the kitchen island, her pink summer dress only just fitting around her plump figure.
“Have you thought a bit more about that internship? It’s been a while since you last brought it up to us,” she says. My heart pounds, as I am suddenly anxious to tell my parents the news.
“Yeah, I tried looking for a suitable agency around here, but nothing really took my fancy,” I reply. “I’ve resorted to looking for agencies abroad.”
Three pairs of eyes turn to me, accompanied by a silence so deafening that you could hear a pin drop.
Dad looks up from his newspaper to ask,
“Where did you have in mind?”
“I’ve got my eye on a few agencies in Japan," I elaborate. "They have the largest network of pro heroes in the world over there - I can’t help thinking that there’s more of a future for me out there than anywhere here.”
Mum sighs.
“Taylor, sweetie, you know we always want the very best for you, but Japan? It's such a long way away, how are you ever going to contact us?”
“I can always call you guys over WiFi. I know you get worried about me but I just think that this is the right decision for me to make,” I explain.
“But-” Mum starts before Dad stops her from going off on a rant about time zones and culture shock.
“Patricia, calm down,” he reassures. “It’s clear that our daughter can’t find what she is looking for here - if she thinks her future lies abroad, then so be it.”
“Thank you,” I breathe, relieved that my parents somewhat agree with the potentially life-changing decision I have made.
“Which agencies are you applying for, anyway?” Jake asks, intrigued by my new goal as he closes his laptop. Out of me and him, he is the brainy one, with his second year as a chemical engineering student at Imperial College coming to a close. But despite his academic success as a cello prodigy and a student at one of the world's top universities, there is no denying that he has a heart of gold - and he has been there for me in situations where no one else has.
“I got an interview the other day for Mirko’s agency, and I’m waiting on Edgeshot’s and Mt. Lady’s as well,” I elaborate.
“Why don’t you apply for an apprenticeship with Hawks? You practically have the same Quirk as him,” Jake suggests.
“I'm sorry, what?" I splutter. Hawks has been my inspiration ever since my grandfather died of old age. After my best friend Celina showed me one of his interviews when I was fourteen, she, Jake and I have watched him start his own agency and soar up the hero rankings to get to where he is now, defying the squeaky-clean expectations of the hero commission to bring out something new, fresh and exciting. I've practically grown up with him at this point - and the bare thought of working alongside him is so surreal that makes me burst out laughing.
"Jake, bro, I'm not even close to good enough to work with him. Think realistically, he’s the best hero in Japan," I add after pulling myself together. "Well, second only to Endeavour, but we don’t talk about him because he’s a douche.”
“You're right about Endeavour,” Jake chuckles. “But really, you should take a chance. You never know unless you try.”
“I’ll think about it,” I deadpan. "In the meantime, will you practise for my interview with me?"
"Sorry, I would, but I have a cello lesson at ten," Jake answers as he scrubs his plate clean at the sink. "I'll help you with the Japanese questions later on, though."
"Why don't you ask Celina?" Dad suggests. "I'm sure she'll help you."
I look back at Dad, nodding with a smile as he gets up to put on his shoes for work.
"Yeah," I breathe. "That's what I'm gonna do."
As I get up to grab my phone and call Celina, I hear Jake grunt curse on the other side of the room.
"What happened?" I ask, concerned.
Jake looks down at his hand in mock-defeat; his face contorting into an expression of disgust as if his hand has turned into slime.
"Just my Quirk," he utters.
"I duplicated the goddamn plate again."