Chapter Text
It's with a small smile to the picture of my mom sitting on the shrine that I leave the house for the day. I can't afford to be late on my first day of work at this cute little cat café called Michi’s Meowporium.
The owner, an older woman by the name of Michi, quirk: unknown, saw me walking in one day and hired me on the spot. She made an excuse about how the cats were drawn to me, unlike some of her other workers – since fired – and being in no position, financially and otherwise, to argue, I agreed to take the job. It helps that I both like the cats and that I’m not allergic like some poor souls, so I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to be around little sweethearts all day.
I enter through the doors of the Meowporium, glad to see nobody but my boss waiting at the register, her eyes only lifting from the book in her hands when she hears my footsteps. A soft smile is directed my way as little mews and the sound of scampering feet fill the silence, and before long, I’m greeting each cat with a gentle pet and scritch behind the ears. I’ve always been a cat person anyway so this is more than acceptable—it soothes the part of me that thinks about my past life and the fluffy black kitten with the sweetest meow and the scariest tendencies. Just another part of me that I need to bury under layers and layers of walls and defenses.
“Let's get you trained on the register and then we can work through the drinks, hm?” Michi-san’s voice cuts through my thoughts and I agree with a nod.
She walks me through little nuances and the instructions with patience I’ve rarely had extended my way, listening to my soft mumbling and nodding when I get something correct. When I’m wrong, I'm not hurt, just kindly reinstructed on what to actually do. It's…different to be treated this way, but I don't even think learning my quirk will change the soft glint in Michi’s eyes when I avoid skin-to-skin contact and most touch anyway.
She even helps me to make a small sign posted multiple times at the register: ‘Touch-activated quirk, please give me space’. I’ve brought some partially fingerless gloves and slip them on, happily touching the counter with my thumb, pointer, and middle fingers.
The café starts getting busier around lunchtime and then after school and though I see many questioning glances from adults or other teens at my youthful appearance, nobody says anything. Nobody says anything about the sign either, they just pay with card or they set their yen on the counter with sheepish smiles and whispered gratitude. It's fine with me because I don't want to answer a stranger’s questions about my quirk. I definitely don't want to answer any questions about my schooling. I don't want to think about my Yuuei application ripped to shreds by my angry father.
I—
I'm not a hero, and I don't want to delude myself into believing a kid with a quirk like mine could ever be anything better. My father tells me that in the echoes of the house and the creaks of the floorboards. He says it but when I look for him, there's no traces of anyone living in that big house but me. Sometimes I wonder if he's really even there at all…
I am Chikafuji Yasu, age 12, quirk: Ghost Phone, and I am the vigilante who protects the voiceless: Eidolon. My quirk enables me to communicate with the deceased and a little bit extra, and I’ve used it to navigate the world of the Underground. I’ve been doing this for the past 4 years now, and I only intend to get better from here.
And nothing will stop me from helping people in a worse situation than me.