Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Author's Note: (14,734 words, this will kind of give you a background on you. (There's lots more of your past to come into light later on). You will have a pretty sad past, so LOTS of trigger warnings (mostly beatings), just in case).

Bold = Time-skips, P.O.V.s, stuff like that. Examples: (All Might's P.O.V.):, Time-skip: (We're on the train):, Small Recap:, The Present (Now):

Italics = A character's thoughts. Or if it is in a sentence, it's a word that carries meaning to it, emphasizing a point. Examples: "Why does it have to be this way?", "I wish I could've changed the outcome.", "I want this.", "I can't lose."

Italics + Underlined = Texting or calling. Example: Katsuki: Clean up your mess, now.

Bold + Italics = A flashback of some sort. Example: I (John) lifted the perfume bottle to his nose, smelling the flowery, sweet scent. I smile softly at the remembrance of the scent.

Flashback:

My wife sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. A flowery, sweet scent engulfed the room.

"What's that smell?" I asked.

Wife: "Oh! I just got this new scent today. Does it smell nice, John?"

"Yeah, it does." I smiled at her happy figure.

The Present (Now):

"I miss you..." I said softly as I put the perfume down, looking outside my window. The sunset peering in.

Underlined = An Author's Note, but I'll be sure to tell you anyway.

Bold + Underlined = Present Mic telling you about a character's quirk. Example: Present Mic: "Y/n L/n! Her quirk: Limitless! She's able to use multiple techniques and her clan eyes also give her a big advantage in combat!"

Author's Note: This guide will help you throughout the story.

When You Were Born: (2nd/3rd Person P.O.V. {Point of View}):

"Hopefully, she'll have a powerful quirk." F/n (Father's name) said sharply, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the newborn in M/n's (Mother's name) arms.

Your mother held you gently, her hands trembling slightly as if the child might break under the weight of the world already placed on her. "Is that all you care about, F/n?" She asked softly, her voice laced with disappointment.

"This is why we got arranged to marry each other, right?" He replied coldly, his tone devoid of affection.

"Well, yes, but-" M/n began, her voice hesitant.

"No buts," he snapped, cutting her off. "If she doesn't have a powerful quirk, we're sending her away, you got that?" His words were harsh, anger radiating from every syllable.

M/n's lips pressed into a thin line as she turned her attention back to you, refusing to meet his gaze. F/n scoffed at her silence, dismissing her as easily as one would swat an annoying fly. It was painfully clear to both of them-, and even to the baby girl, perhaps, in some unspoken way-, that this was a loveless marriage, bound not by affection but by obligation (arranged marriage). Neither held any love for the other, and it was unlikely they ever would.

M/n cradled you close, her touch tender as she gazed at your tiny face. A soft smile spread across her lips as she whispered, "You just look so adorable; I wonder what I'm going to name you..." Her voice was warm, filled with a motherly affection that seemed to shield you from the coldness in the room.

She began to gently rock you, her movements soothing, until your little eyes fluttered open, and you let out a soft babble.

Author's Note: (Obviously, you don't have to look like this, you decide what you look like. But I wanted to give you an idea on what your eyes look like).

M/n gasped, her heart skipping a beat. "Your eyes are so beautiful..." She said breathlessly, her voice full of wonder as though she'd discovered a rare gem.

F/n scoffed from the other side of the room, dismissing her awe. "Her eyes should be no different from ours-" he started, but his words faltered as his gaze landed on your face. His expression froze, stunned into silence.

"Don't they just look like the sky...?" M/n continued, her eyes not leaving yours. "Her eyes look like they have clouds in them... So pretty..." Her soft smile grew as she traced the edge of your tiny hand, ignoring the tension F/n carried like a storm cloud looming over the tender moment.

F/n stood frozen, his mouth hanging open as if the air had been knocked out of him. "M/n, this is... There's no way..." he muttered, his voice trembling in disbelief.

M/n glanced up at him, cradling you protectively in her arms, her brows furrowing in concern. "There's no way, what?" she asked, her tone sharp with unease.

"The eyes..." F/n whispered, still staring at you as though seeing a ghost.

M/n's annoyance grew, her patience thinning. "What are you talking about, F/n?" She demanded, her tone laced with irritation.

F/n snapped out of his stupor, his disbelief shifting into a wild, almost unhinged laughter. "The eyes! Don't you know about the family you married into?!" He exclaimed; his voice filled with something dark and eager.

M/n paused, her thoughts racing as she searched for an answer. Then, realization hit her like a thunderbolt. Her eyes widened in shock. "You can't mean-"

"-Yes! YES! The eyes, M/n!" F/n interrupted, his voice triumphant, his laughter tinged with malevolence. "She'll be the hero we and our families never were!" He declared, his gaze fixated on you with a mix of pride and greed.

M/n's grip on you tightened instinctively, her voice rising in protest. "But it's been over five thousand years since someone has had the eyes! Hasn't it been way too long for your clan's eyes to come back?!" She argued, desperation seeping into her words. She didn't want to believe it; didn't want to acknowledge what this revelation could mean for you.

Author's Note: (Pretend that quirks have been around that long, just for the dramatic effect).

F/n's face lit up with an almost manic determination. "I thought that too, but this child is living proof that my family name will be reborn into something great! Don't you understand!?" He shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "This must mean she has a powerful quirk! I have to start training her!"

M/n glared at him, holding you protectively against her chest. "You idiot! She's just a baby! You can't train her now!" She snapped back, her voice trembling with anger and disbelief. "You'd have to wait until she's at least four, F/n! That's when most kids get their quirks!"

F/n scoffed, his anger bubbling to the surface. "Fine!" He barked, his tone sharp and biting. "But when she's four... You're not stopping me, you got that?!" His eyes burned with ambition as he stared at you, already envisioning the future he was determined to create.

Three Years Later: (1st Person: {Your P.O.V. [Point of View]}):

Father towered over me; his expression twisted with disappointment and anger. "NO, NO, NO! YOUR SUPPOSED TO PUNCH LIKE THIS-" He bellowed before driving a powerful punch into my stomach, sending me crashing to the floor. Pain surged through my body as I gasped for air, clutching my stomach in agony. "NOT LIKE HOW YOU DID IT!" He yelled, demonstrating the punch I had attempted. His voice echoed off the walls of the training room. Father was teaching me multiple types of martial arts, but I guess I didn't punch how he expected me to.

I coughed and hacked, struggling to draw breath as tears stung my eyes. The room spun for a moment, and the ache in my chest felt unbearable.

"Get up." He demanded, his voice void of any sympathy. His cold gaze pierced through me like ice. "You're not done."

I trembled, swallowing my pain and pushing aside the fear, barely three years old, as I raised my tiny fists, legs wobbling beneath me as I stood back up; knowing there was no room for weakness in his eyes.

Flashback:

Mama once told me that I had manifested my quirk as a baby, long before I could even walk and talk. My toys would float lazily through the air, and my sippy cup would slide across the table into my tiny hands. At first, Mama thought it was just a coincidence, but the occurrences became too precise to ignore.

By the age of three, I could use my quirk consciously, effortlessly moving objects with a focused gaze, pulling them to me like a magnet.

Father had been elated, his eyes gleamed with pride and twisted ambition. "You're even more special than I thought," he had exclaimed, gripping my small shoulder a bit too tightly. "You're already ahead of the other kids. This will make you stronger-, make you the best."

His words weren't exactly encouragement; they were expectations, heavy chains disguised as praise. Even then, as a little girl, I had sensed that my gift would never be my own.

The Present (Now):

"Focus! Keep your guard up!" He snapped. His stance was rigid, and his voice was sharp as he barked commands.

I stepped forward, mimicking the movement he had drilled into me, but before I could even react, his fist came down too fast and too hard, again.

The blow struck my chest with brutal force, sending me sprawling onto the floor once more. Pain shot through me as I gasped for air, clutching my rib area.

But Father's voice cut through the shock, "C'mon, get up!" His tone laced with disgust. "You'll never learn if you stay on the ground like a coward!" He waited for a moment and tsked, grabbing me by my hair.

Father's voice boomed, shaking the room. "I SAID, GET UP, Y/N!" He shouted, his hand reaching for you as you desperately tried to crawl away.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I cried, hiccupping through sobs, my small frame trembling with fear.

Without mercy, he grabbed me by the hair and yanked me off the ground, only to throw me back down with brutal force. I hit the floor with a thud, pain radiating through my body as I curled into myself.

He scoffed, standing over me with disdain. "You can't be the number one hero if you can't handle a little bit of training." He paused for a moment, continuing, "If you can't even handle this, you'll never be strong enough to carry this family's name." He spat, his tone icy and void of compassion.

Just then, Mama burst into the room, rushing to my side. She knelt next to me, her hands shaking as she touched my bruised face and stomach. "F/n, please, stop it! She's only three, she just found out how to use her quirk!" She pleaded, her voice thick with desperation.

Father turned on her, his face twisting in rage. "I'm training her now so that she'll be better than All Might himself! She'll be this clan's most prized possession! I won't let this opportunity slip through my hands!" His words were venomous, laced with ambition and contempt.

He glared down at her, his voice rising in fury. "And if I start now, she won't grow up lazy and useless like you! Now, get out of my sight, you pest!"

Before she could react, his foot connected with her stomach in a brutal kick. She cried out in pain, falling to the floor next to you as hopeless tears streamed down her face.

"Mama?" I whimpered, my voice trembling as tears flowed down my cheeks.

And again, before she could respond, Father's geta sandal collided with my small face, striking my nose with a sickening force. Pain exploded, and I screamed, clutching my nose as warm blood gushed between my tiny fingers, dripping onto the training room floor.

Mama gasped, her voice breaking. "Y/n!" She quickly crawled over to me, gathering me into her lap with trembling hands. His arms encircled me protectively, her tears mixing with my own.

Father scowled down at us, his expression unreadable. "Clean her and this mess up and bring her back to train after." He commanded coldly, showing no remorse. With that, he turned on his heel, sliding the shoji (Japanese sliding door) shut with a resounding slam, leaving us alone in the suffocating silence.

Mama sniffled, brushing her fingers against my hair as she rocked me gently. "I'm so sorry, Y/n..." She whispered, her voice heavy with guilt.

She stood and helped me to my feet, her hands steady even as her tears fell. "How about we go outside today, hm?" She asked softly, her voice trying to carry some lightness.

As she cleaned the training room and used her reverse quirk to heal my nose, I simply nodded, my face expressionless. No smile, no warmth-, just a cold, distant look. The fire of a once-happy child flickered weakly, barely alive-, if I was ever happy. If I was once happy, I certainly didn't remember it.

Mama's bottom lip quivered as she forced a smile. "Alright, I'll pick you out a kimono, o-okay?"

I nodded silently, watching as she went to the wardrobe and selected a light blue kimono with a dark blue pattern on it. Once I slipped it on, she adjusted it gently before deciding to bring her red umbrella since it was snowing outside.

Time-skip:

The cold air bit at my cheeks as Mama and I strolled down the quiet street. Snow crunched softly beneath our feet while the red umbrella shielded us from the delicate flakes falling from the sky. We weren't doing much-, just walking and taking in the sights. I knew Mama probably just wanted me out of the house for a while, and I didn't mind.

We wandered aimlessly, the silence between us filled only by the occasional sound of passing footsteps or the wind. But then, I froze mid-step, a strange sensation washing over me.

Someone was there.

So, I turned around sharply.

(Midoriya's P.O.V.):

Mom and I were heading to the store, the list of groceries tucked into her purse. The air was cold, and my breath fogged up in front of me as we walked. I noticed two people further up the street, a woman with a red umbrella and a girl about my age walking beside her.

At first, I didn't think much of it. People walked these streets all the time, especially in the snow when everything seemed so peaceful. But as we got closer, the girl suddenly stopped, her movements deliberate. She turned her head sharply and locked eyes with me.

Author's Note: (You decide what your hair looks like).

I felt a jolt run through me, like a spark of electricity. Her gaze was cold, distant, and intense-, so unlike the usual friendly or curious looks I was used to. It wasn't threatening, but it wasn't exactly inviting either.

Mom nudged me lightly, "Izuku, keep up," she said as I realized I'd stopped walking.

"Oh, right, sorry!" I mumbled, glancing back toward the girl. She was still staring, and I couldn't figure out why.

I kept locking eyes with her, mesmerized by the way her gaze seemed to pierce through me. Then it hit me, and my face grew warm as the thought crossed my mind. "Woah, she's so pretty... Especially her eyes..."

The girl and the woman next to her-, probably her mom-, looked so formal and elegant. Their matching traditional attire made them stand out, as if they had stepped out of a storybook. I'd never seen anyone look so angelic, like they didn't belong in the same ordinary (besides the quirks) world I lived in.

The girl stared at me a little longer, her expression unreadable, before turning her head and walking away with her mom. I found myself still watching them as they moved further down the street, their presence lingering in my mind even after they disappeared around a corner.

I tugged on Mom's sleeve, finally snapping out of my daze.

"Mom?" I whispered softly.

She crouched down to my level with a small laugh, "Yes, Izuku? What is it? And why are you whispering?"

I blush, embarrassed, because I didn't know why I whispered either. "Who is that girl?"

Mom tilted her head thoughtfully. "Oh, um, I'm not really sure, Sweetie... But I think she lives in the traditional Japanese mansion nearby..."

"Woah, really?!" I exclaimed with stars in my eyes.

There are certain places in every neighborhood that capture the imagination of children and adults alike, and on our street, that place was undoubtedly the traditional Japanese house. It wasn't just the size that made it captivating; it was the elegance it exuded. Nestled amidst a vibrant yard filled with blooming flowers and meticulously trimmed hedges, the house was a sight to behold.

The house really was everything one could dream of-, timeless elegance wrapped in the spirit of tradition. Even in comparison, Kacchan's home felt almost mundane (he had a nice house too). As I would walk with my friends, even Kacchan, would pause to gawk at its beauty, his friends sharing hushed whispers of admiration.

"Did you see that house?" Kacchan once said, his tone a mix of awe and envy.

It was almost a rite of passage for us to admire it on our way to the park or the lake, our imaginations painting pictures of the adventures that could unfold within its walls. I had even often found myself daydreaming about what it would be like to live there-, sunny afternoons in the backyard, cookouts, and evening chats under the stairs, once.

"Yeah... Why'd you ask though?" Mom queried, her eyes glinting with curiosity as she studied my expression and snapped me out my thoughts.

"Um... Just because I thought she was pretty..." I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her reaction was instantaneous. "Oooo~ Do you have your first crush, Izuku~?" She teased, her playful tone evident.

My face flushed with embarrassment, a rush of warmth spreading across my cheeks. "NO! I PROMISE IT'S NOT LIKE THAT, MOM!" I protested, the words tumbling out in a flurry.

Mom chuckled, the sound light and melodic, and I could tell she enjoyed this little exchange. "Alright, alright. I was just teasing~ Anyways, let's go get the groceries we need, okay?" She flashed me a warm smile, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me.

"Okay, Mom." I chirped, my mood lightening as we went inside the store, jumping as Mom held my hand.

Time-skip: (Your P.O.V.):

As the sun dripped low in the sky, casting golden rays over the world, I walked alongside Mama towards the garden that thrived behind our home. The air was rich with the scent of blooming flowers, even in the winter, a tapestry of colors swaying gently in the cold breeze. It was her sanctuary, a place of solace that flourished under her care, yet it was also a battleground against father's steadfast rules.

Author's Note: (You're probably like: "How the freak is she keeping the garden all beautiful and nice, isn't it snowing outside?" Well, yeah, but it'll be explained later on in the fanfic).

"Father is furious that you keep caring for your garden despite him telling you not to." I said, my voice flat, betraying a mix of concern and frustration. I couldn't help but feel torn. On one hand, the beauty of the garden was undeniable; on the other, I feared the consequences of her defiance.

She replied, "I know. But Y/n, isn't it just sooo~ beautiful?" Her eyes sparkled with a fervor that only passion could ignite. She brushed her fingers over a delicate petal, almost reverently.

"It is but... I just don't want it to end up being your demise." I muttered quietly, casting my gaze downward, feeling the weight of worry settle heavily on my shoulders. It seemed every time we ventured to the garden; I could hear Father's angry voice echoing in my mind, warning against the dangers of indulgence and rebellion.

Mama sighed, a sound filled with both resignation and resolve. "C'mere, Y/n. I want to show you something, I promise it'll be worth it." Her smile was a soft beacon, drawing me in. I felt her hand wrap gently around mine, and in that moment, I allowed myself to follow her.

We walked to the small pond nestled among the vibrant blooms; a secret treasure tucked away in our backyard. The water was still, a mirror reflecting the sky above, but the true magic lay beneath the surface. As we approached, the koi fish emerged, gliding gracefully through the water, their colors vibrant against the cool blue.

Her voice tinged with awe, capturing the moment in a way that felt almost sacred. "Look at them, they're like little jewels, dancing in the water. Do you see how free they are?"

Free-, something we weren't.

Free-, what does it even mean? It's a word that rolls off the tongue with such ease yet carries an immense weight when confronted with the complexities of life. For some, freedom is simply a casual term, synonymous with the joys found in the lives of others, a fleeting concept that exists only in a world far removed from our own struggles. It's a word you hear in songs, read in books, and see in the eyes of those who have the luxury of choice-, choices we sometimes feel are reserved for others.

But free-, what does it truly encompass? Perhaps it's the moment when we face the worst life can throw at us and realize how precious that word becomes. It is in these moments of despair that we come to question everything: our paths, our choices, and even our faith in a higher power. It's a word that can evoke feelings of anger, confusion, and longing. "Free," we whisper to ourselves, as we grapple with the reality that we are, in many ways, still tethered by the chains of circumstance.

Free-, something we weren't, but needed to be.

I glanced back at Mama; the woman who had so effortlessly found wonder in a world that often felt dark and suffocating. She knelt down on the snow-covered grass, a gentle smile dancing on her lips as she plucked a couple of delicate light pink flowers from their stems. With a handful of them, she approached the pond, an offering to the world she so deeply admired.

As she released the flowers into the water, I watched them float gracefully, their soft petals twirling in tandem with the playful movements of the fish. It was a beautiful sight-, a ballet of nature, a symphony of colors and life.

Mama looks at me, "Now, doesn't it look like the fish are dancing with the flowers?" She asked, her eyes sparkling with a joy that seemed to emanate from the very earth beneath us.

Author's Note: (Pretend that it's daytime).

In that moment, surrounded by the simple beauty of the pond, I began to understand that perhaps freedom isn't merely a word; it's a state of being. It's found in the small acts of joy, in the appreciation of life's wonders, and in the connections we forge with the world around us. While we may not feel free in the traditional sense, we can still find pockets of liberation in our hearts, in laughter, and in the love we share. Maybe freedom isn't something we need to chase; rather, it is something we can cultivate within ourselves, even amidst the chains that bind us.

"Yeah, it does, Mama..." I finally give an answer, gazing at the scene in awe, a soft smile creeping across my face. I marveled at the tiny pink, enchanted by the simple beauty of nature.

For a moment, Mama's gaze drifted away, her heart full as she cherished this shared experience. She plucked another flower from the ground, turning to me with a new treasure in hand. "This is a blue Emperor Dahlia." She announced, her voice imbued with pride.

"It's pretty..." I replied softly, captivated by the flower's stunning shade of blue, as deep and vibrant as a clear summer sky.

Mama's eyes sparkled as she continued, "I know, right? You know... This flower, reminds me of you." Her words floated gently in the air; each syllable carefully chosen.

"Huh?" I hummed, tilting my head in curiosity, my innocent eyes reflecting the world around me.

Mama's voice was honey-warm-, with a sweetness that resonated in my heart-, her words wrapping around me like sunlight through lace. "It reminds me of you-, sharp and strong at the edges, yet beautiful all the same, with a touch as soft as its petals. And the color... it's the same as your eyes. They'll always be beautiful, my darling, just like this flower."

The world seemed to still as I absorbed Mama's words, the air turning gentle and weightless as her voice lingered in the space between us. Then, with a quiet reverence, she went on. "Do you know what makes it even more special? This is the rarest flower in the world. Hardly anyone ever sees one. Even when cut from its stem, it does not wither... and when night falls, it glows. I was lucky enough to find the seeds-, it cost me a fortune. But things this rare are worth it. People like you are worth it." She concluded, her smile radiating love.

Author's Note: (By the way, with the blue Emperor Dahlia being the rarest flower in the world and all that other stuff... I just made that up for this story, so I don't actually know if anything I wrote is true or not... I just wanted to clarify that because I didn't want people coming at me saying that those weren't actual facts😭).

"How am I rare and hard to find, Mama?" I questioned, confused. My innocent curiosity painted my expression.

Mama chuckled softly, "Because there's no one in this world who is as beautiful, smart, and caring as you, Y/n." Her tone was filled with a tenderness that wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. "And there's no one in this world who I will ever love more than you, my beautiful daughter."

In that moment, my heart swelled with affection, my eyes sparkling with admiration for Mama. "The blue Emperor Dahlia is my favorite flower now, Mama. A-And it always will be."

Mama laughed softly, a sweet sound that blended with the rustle of leftover leaves overhead. "That's so sweet of you, Y/n."

I beamed with joy, reveling in the simple pleasure of a day spent with Mama in our garden. The vibrant colors of the flowers surrounded us, a stark contrast to the dark cloud that loomed over our family. Yet, this happiness was abruptly shattered when I saw Father walking towards us, his face twisted in anger.

I suddenly remembered the unspoken rules of our household: Mama was not supposed to take me anywhere fun. She was meant to clean and prepare me for my training. The thought sent a wave of dread through me, and my heart sank.

"What is this!?" Father raged, his voice cutting through the serenity of the garden. His gaze was fixed on Mama; a look of fury etched into his features.

"F/n, please, just go away! Y/n doesn't need this right now!" She exclaimed, her voice trembling as she tried to shield me from the storm brewing around us. I could see the fear in her eyes, a fear that was all too familiar-, it happened every day.

Father scoffs, "Y/N DOESN'T NEED THIS!?! WHAT Y/N NEEDS IS TRAINING! BUT NO! YOU HAVE HER STUCK IN YOUR STUPID GARDEN! I TOLD YOU TO STOP THIS NONSENSE!" His voice was thunderclap, each word laced with venom. I could feel the tremors of his rage reverberate through the ground beneath me.

Mama's plea was desperate. "Y/N NEEDS TO BE ABLE TO ACT LIKE HER AGE, SOMETIMES! I DON'T WANT HER TO WORRY ABOUT ME OR CRY BECAUSE OF YOU! I JUST WANT HER TO BE A KID! NOT A POWER-HUNGRY HERO!" Her words echoed with a blend of defiance and sorrow, but they fell on deaf ears while hiding me behind her as we're sitting down.

The situation escalated quickly. In a fit of fury, Father stormed over to Mama, slapping her across the face with a force that sent chills down my spine. I gasped, paralyzed by fear. "A KID?!? Y/N NEEDS TO BE THE BEST OF THE BEST! AND YET, YOU'RE OVER HERE TALKING TO HER ABOUT USELESS FLOWERS!?!"

My heart raced, a panicked rhythm that matched what was unfolding before me. Mama was crying now, her voice quivering as she attempted to reason with him. "Please! She's just a little girl, you can't keep-"

But Father's rage drowned out her words. He knelt down; his grip cruel as he submerged Mama's head into the pond so roughly as if he were trying to snap her neck at that moment. Time felt suspended, and in those agonizing moments, I felt as though the world had shifted on its axis. I was helpless, a bystander in my own life.

"Father stop! You'll drown Mama! Stop it!" I sobbed, desperation clawing at my throat as I tried to pull him away. But my cries were swallowed by his fury.

"YOUR MOTHER NEEDS TO LEARN HER LESSON! STAY OUT OF MY WAY!" He bellowed, the venom in his voice leaving me reeling. In one swift motion, he pushed me aside, and I crumpled to the ground, the softness of the snow on the grass a cruel reminder of the safety I had just lost. But I had to do something. I had to help my Mama with all the fight-, all the strength I have.

Fear twisted my small face, but I screamed with quick recovery time and without hesitation, charged at the man who was supposed to be a dad, my dad.

I grabbed Father around his neck from behind, trying to pull him off with a cry. Father used his other hand to grab me by the roots of my hair and pulled me off, slamming me into the muddy ground harshly.

Water splashed everywhere, Mama trying to fight the overbearing strength of my Father. I let out breaths of relief every time I got slammed into the ground when I saw it, not because I was happy-, no, but because it meant that she was still alive. I still had time.

When grabbing around his neck didn't work, I ran to pound my fists against his legs and the spine of his back with all of the strength my tiny body could muster at that moment.

"Let her go!" I shouted, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and terror.

My father barely flinched at my blows, but my desperate cries were enough to make him pause. Seeing this, I grabbed a jagged stick from the ground near me, striking his arm brutally.

My heart was pounding as I tried to protect the woman who had always protected me, my mama.

For a moment, my father lets up and Mama's face emerged from the water, gasping for air. She throws up and coughs, wheezing.

Father then turned to me, his eyes burning with a hatred so fierce it made me stumble backward. I've never seen him look at me like that before-, as if I was nothing but a nuisance, something to crush beneath his heel even more than I already was.

Without a word, he lunged, his rough hands grabbing my tiny arm with a grip that made me cry out in pain. The stick I held fell uselessly to the ground as he dragged me away from the pond, my feet scraping against the sharp rocks and roots beneath them.

My mama's gasping breaths faded into the distance, replaced by the pounding of my heart and the cold, terrifying silence of my father. Tears streamed down my face, but I didn't dare beg or plead; his iron grip and the venom in his glare told me that mercy was something he didn't have.

After a while of the brutal dragging and silence, I finally had the courage to ask. "Father, where are you taking me?"

"Don't speak." He threatened and my mouth immediately shut.

My father stormed into the shed we had, and knowing what was going to happen, I kicked and screamed, my other tiny hand clawing at my father's arms to break free. He threw me onto the floor of the shed like a ragdoll, my body hitting the hard, cold, wooden floor with a sickening thud.

Before I could crawl away, he grabbed me by my ankle and pulled me towards him. He kicked me with the wood of his geta sandal, the sharp edges digging into my ribs and knocking the breath right out of my lungs.

My cries of fear and pain filled the shed as his fists came down-, one striking my face, another slamming into my ribs, and yet another twisting of my small arm until the sharp, sickening snap of bone filled the room.

I scream as I tried to curl into myself, trying to protect myself as his heavy hands grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me, slamming me against the wooden wall. Blood trickled from a cut above my eye, staining my dirt-streaked face, but he didn't stop until my sobs became weak gasps.

Finally, he dropped me to the floor, my small body broken and trembling, and stormed out (probably to go look for Mama), slamming the door behind him with the noise of a key and lock.

As he had shut the door, the faint silver of light vanished, plunging the shed into an all-consuming darkness. The air felt heavy, maybe because I was a little girl, but it felt like every breath I took pressed in on my battered body as I lay crumpled on the dirty floor.

I blinked, but it made no difference; it was black, so pitch-dark that I couldn't see my own trembling hands in front of me. I was surprised a broken arm could even tremble like this.

The silence in here was deafening, broken only by my ragged, uneven breaths. Tears streamed down my face, but no one was here or near to wipe them away or to hear my choked sobs. The cold seeps into my skin, which intensifies the ache of my broken arm and bruised ribs.

I tried to call out, but my voice cracked painfully and was swallowed by the emptiness of the shed. I was alone in here and fear crept in (more than it already did), wrapping around me like the darkness itself, like it was whispering that no one was going to come to save me from this hell.

The pain I still felt pulsed through my body in waves, each throb more unbearable than the last. My broken arm laid limp at my side, sending sharp stabs of agony with every shallow breath I took.

I tried to shift, to find some position that didn't hurt, but every movement made me whimper, my strength fading fast. The air in the shed was suffocating, thick with the metallic tang of blood and the damp scent of dirt.

My head grew heavy, my thoughts slipping away into a haze of exhaustion and pain. The darkness around me seemed to press closer, swallowing my gasping breaths until my eyelids fluttered shut.

My body went still, and my mind retreated into the only escape it could find. In the suffocating quiet of the shed, I finally passed out.

Time-skip: (A Couple Hours Later):

The jingling of the lock snapped me awake; my heart raced as fear gripped my chest once more. In the suffocating darkness, I froze, my mind screaming that it was my father, coming back to finish what he had started.

I pressed my trembling body against the cold wall, biting back a cry as the door creaked open. "No...please..." I whimpered, my voice was weak and broken.

But then, through the faint moonlight spilling into the shed, I saw my mama's silhouette. "Mama..." I croaked, tears spilling down my dirt-streaked cheeks.

Mama gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she took in the sight of me; bruised, broken, and bloodied. She cried, "Oh, my baby... My sweet baby." She rushed to me, her hands trembling as she reached out.

"Mama, it hurts," I sobbed, my tiny frame shaking.

Mama sobbed, scooping me up as gently as she could. "I'm so sorry!"

"I don't like it here-, I don't want to live with him anymore, Mama, let's run away..." I croaked, my voice thick with the weight of unshed tears. In my heart, it was a desperate plea for freedom (ironically), safety, and a simple joy of wanting to be a child for once.

Mama cries hysterically, gently petting the back of my head. "I would love to run away with you, but you know we can't do that. We wouldn't have anywhere to go, and he'd find us easily." She sniffles, wrapping her arms around me, offering comfort as my sobs echoed throughout the shed.

After a time, Mama's gentle voice breaks the newfound silence. "Let's get out of here, okay?" She suggests softly.

I nod weakly. "I love you, Mama. I don't ever want you to leave me, okay?" I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, punctuated by sniffles that betray my fragile state of mind.

"Of course, Sweetheart. I will never leave you, especially not while your father is still around... And I love you too." She said while caressing my face gently, giving me the sweetest smile I've ever seen. The smile that lit up my life. Mama was the only light I had in this world.

Until she wasn't anymore.

Life is rarely so simple, isn't it?

Time-skip: (A Few Weeks Later):

After that, I was cradled in the healing embrace of Mama's quirk, her gentle warmth mending the fracture Father had inflicted. The next, I found myself wandering the dimly lit halls of our home, suffocated by a growing dread for Mama, who had fallen ill under mysterious circumstances.

I tried to convince myself that she would recover, that nothing would snatch her away from me. Yet, as I wandered aimlessly, trying to escape that suffocating weight of worry, Father's voice pierced through my thoughts like a knife.

"Y/n." His glare was sharp, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I looked up at him, the dread pooling in my stomach.

"Yes?" I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, hesitant and small.

"Training. Now." His words dripped with a seething anger that I couldn't comprehend-, why was he so angry? What did I do now?

"But I want to be with Mama-" I started, but before I could finish, he seized me by the shoulders, crouching down to my level. The fury etched into his features was a terrifying sight.

"Why are you and that damn woman so close?! Huh!? She's just a distraction! She's not important right now! I'm the one you should be focused on!" His voice rose, carrying an unsettling intensity. "All you ever do is cry for her, like you're some helpless little thing. You think I care about her? You're ruining everything, you understand? You and her-, always so close, always holding each other up. It's messing with my plans, and it makes you weak!"

The words stung like venom, and I flinched, desperately trying to defend the only person who had ever made me feel safe. "But... Mama... Mama's sic-"

His expression twisted into one of disgust, a mask of contempt that shattered any remnants of comfort. "-She's nothing. You're not going to be soft like her. You'll train, and you'll forget about her, or you'll never see her again! Actually, yeah, I'm going to keep you, my most prized possession, away from her! She's a bad influence!"

With a curse escaping his lips, he dragged me into the training room, throwing me in. "Hopefully, she dies from whatever she got caught with." He muttered, his disdain palpable. "Get up. You need to practice your Long-Distance Teleportation." He spat, leaving me trembling with a mixture of fear and fury. Slowly, I got up, my heart a storm of emotions-, anger, confusion, and a deep-seated sorrow.

Hours of relentless training followed, a cruel regimen devoid of compassion or respite. I was pushed beyond my limits, forced to practice until my muscles burned, my throat dried from thirst, and my stomach rumbled of hunger. He showed no mercy, no concern for my well-being, all while I fought against the gnawing worry for Mama that clung to me like a shadow.

Time-skip: (After Training):

The doctors that were treating my mama called Father over to her washitsu (Japanese styled room). He entered through her sliding door, his demeanor betraying nothing as he faced the doctors, their solemn expressions contrasting sharply with his apparent indifference. I trailed behind him, my heart racing, the air thick with the scent of medicinal herbs. Mama, once a vibrant presence, now lay in pain, her health unraveling before my eyes.

"So, I'm sorry to tell you this, but we have bad news, Mr. L/n. I don't know if you want that child in here or not-" the nurse trailed off, filled with pity.

Father interrupted with a sigh; his words steeped in detachment. "-It doesn't matter. What is it?" His tone felt like a cold wind, pushing against the warmth of hope that I held inside.

The doctor's report cut through the tension. "After a bit of bloodwork and investigating, your wife seems to have a waterborne disease. I guess some type of water that she drank had deadly bacteria, and usually we would be able to cure this type of thing, but we've tried everything we can, and our methods just haven't been working. I'm afraid that there's really nothing more we can do for her, I'm sorry, Mr. L/n." He said, his voice tinged with regret.

"I see." He said, not really caring.

I gasped, tears welling up as the fear of losing Mama clawed at my insides. The doctor's words echoed in my mind. Was this truly how it would end? Would I be left alone, adrift in a world that suddenly felt darker? With Father?

"Like I said, usually we're able to cure waterborne diseases. So, it's kind of interesting that the bacteria she swallowed is this terrible... If this is from your sink water, that is concerning, and you should get it checked out immediately. Plus, in water, we only find this kind of terrible bacteria from ponds, lakes, rivers, oceans, and so on. Especially if there's any type of fish in the water. Do you know or have any idea of where she could have gotten it?" The doctor inquired about the source of the bacteria.

"No." He boredly said, acting like he didn't know.

"We have a pond in our-" I started to frantically say, to connect the dots for the adults whose world felt so much bigger than mine. But before I could finish, Father dragged me out of the room, shutting the sliding door with a finality that silenced my protest.

"-You stay out here and shut your mouth. You got that? You have no right to interfere with personal affairs." He snapped; his words laced with cold disdain. I stood outside, pressing my ear against the door, desperate to catch fragments of the conversation that would decide Mama's fate.

Inside, Father adopted a tone that was foreign to me-, a fake professionalism that masked his true feelings. "Sorry about her. She's just a little girl, doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Ah, no worries. That's alright. I get it, I have one of my own." He said kindly.

"So, is there anything else I should know?" Father asked.

"Well, we're giving you the option for this medicine. It is pricey, but it might help or even cure her-" He started suggesting possible treatments but Father's refusal to even consider them left me reeling.

"-There is no need. I will not be paying for any medicine for her; I just simply don't have that kind of money." He lied; an accusation pierced my heart. We had wealth, more than enough, yet he stood there, denying Mama the care she so desperately needed.

"Are you sure? You don't even know the price-" He interjects but Father interrupts him once more.

"-Yes."

"Well, what about putting her in an actual hospital? So that way she'd be able to get twenty-four/seven care?" He tried to persuade.

"That won't be needed. I don't want to waste your time. Now, please go." Father said and a moment later, the nurse and doctor came out through the sliding door, walking past me.

I just stand there, trembling. Father put on this whole persona for those doctors. "We don't have the money? That was a total lie! And why can't she be put in a hospital?!" I thought angrily, my hands clenched into fists.

When Father emerged from the washitsu, his cold glare met my bewildered eyes. "You almost gave me away." He hissed.

"You lied! Why won't you help her?!" I demanded, my voice shaking with emotion. "We do have enough money! We have more than enough! Billions! And why won't you put her in a hospital?!"

"Maybe we do have enough money, maybe we don't," he snapped, his voice dismissive. "There is no need to put her in a hospital. Now, go to bed. I'm not asking, I'm ordering." He sneered.

With that, I felt the world around me shatter. I stormed off to my own washitsu, slamming the door shut with a force that echoed my inner turmoil. Laying on my futon, the weight of betrayal settled in my chest. The tears flowed freely, each sob a plea for the Mama I might lose and the Father I struggled to understand.

As I drifted off, I vowed to find a way to help Mama, even if it meant facing the truth about my father's choices.

Time-skip:

In the hushed stillness of the night, when the world lay cloaked in slumber, I felt an inexplicable urge to wander. My bare feet padded silently against the tatami mats (Japanese style flooring), the faint rhythm echoing through the empty halls of our home. It was familiar solitude, one I had grown accustomed to, but tonight felt different. A sense of foreboding prickled at my skin, urging me forward until I heard a soft cough emanating from Mama's washitsu.

Without a second thought, I slid the door open, the sound echoing through the darkness. Inside, Mama lay on her futon, pale and fragile, her shallow breaths almost inaudible against the quiet of the night.

"Mama?" I whispered, my heart racing. The thought of waking Father filled me with dread, but my concern for Mama outweighed that fear.

"Y/n? Sweetheart?" Her voice was weak, yet it still carried a warmth.

"Yes, Mama?" I hurried to her side, sitting gently on the edge of her futon.

"C'mere..." She beckoned softly, and I scooted closer, feeling the chill in the air wrap around us both.

"Do you need anything, Mama?" I asked, studying her face, desperate to see a glimmer of the vibrant woman who had always cared for me.

"Yes," she sighed, the words a struggle. "I wanted to give you something... I was planning on giving it to you on your birthday but... I most likely won't be here by then..."

"Don't say that Mama..." I felt my eyes sting with tears. The mere thought of losing her felt like a weight pressing down on my chest.

"Sorry, Sweetheart..." She murmured, and I gripped her hand tightly, tears filled my eyes completely now, but I refused to let them fall.

"Mama," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Why haven't you told the doctors anything about what happened? The disease-, the pond is the reason why you're ill. You can still get help. You can tell the doctors-, or I can-"

Mama shook her head weakly, her tired eyes meeting mine. "No, Y/n," she said softly, her voice filled with a sorrow I couldn't understand. "I really do appreciate it, yes, but if I don't die now, I will later."

I froze, my heart clenching painfully. "What... What do you mean, Mama?"

She hesitated, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I heard F/n on the phone," she admitted, her voice breaking. "He was planning on getting rid of me either way...through a shady person. I'd rather spend these last moments with you than have you find me... Murdered or something even worse, okay?"

Her words shattered me. "No! No, Mama, please!" I cried. "You can't just give up like this! I'll tell someone! I'll protect you! You promised me you wouldn't leave me!"

Mama's face crumpled, guilt and despair written all over her. She pulled me into her arms despite her weakness, holding me close as we both sobbed. "I'm so sorry, my love," she whispered into my hair. "I wanted so badly to keep that promise, but...this was always going to happen, sooner or later."

I clung to her desperately, my tears soaking into her kimono. "I can't lose you, Mama. I can't."

"I know, Y/n," she murmured, "I'm so sorry. I love you more than anything in this world, and if I could change this, I would."

I wiped my face, my tears still falling despite my efforts to stop them. "Mama," I whispered, my voice shaky. "How did you feel when Father said we didn't have money, or that you couldn't be put in a hospital? Mama... I felt so helpless."

She looked at me with those same tired, sorrowful eyes and sighed deeply. "I felt...ashamed, Y/n," she admitted, her voice soft but full of pain. "Not for myself, but for you. You're just a child, yet you've had to carry burdens no child should ever have to. You've never been a child-, always a matured, grown woman. I hated that I couldn't protect you from this...from him, from everything. But I also knew that even if I fought for a hospital bed, it wouldn't have changed the outcome."

Her fingers gently brushed my hair back. "I've made peace with this, my sweet girl. It doesn't mean I'm not afraid, or that I don't wish things were different. But I need you to know that none of this is your fault. You're not helpless, Y/n. You're stronger than you think. You'll survive this, even if it feels impossible right now."

Her words only made my heart ache more. "But I don't want to survive without you," I sobbed, holding her hand tightly once more. "I want you to stay."

She leaned down, kissing the top of my head with trembling lips. "I know, my love. I want to stay, too. But sometimes, the strongest thing we can do is keep going...even when it hurts."

Mama gave me a weak smile, her fingers brushing against my cheek. "Also," she began, her voice soft and cracking slightly, "tell that boy-, what was his name? The boy we met at Sekoto Peak a while back?"

"Tōya," I whispered, my throat tight.

"Yes, him," she said, nodding slowly. "Tell him I hope he gets what he wants soon enough-, and safely, yes? I've always felt bad for him. And oh, Dear..." She paused, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm sorry I tried to keep you away from him. He's your only friend, and I shouldn't have tried to interfere. Just...you understand why, yes?"

I nodded with a quiet sob. "I understand, Mama. Don't worry, I'll tell him. And it's okay-, I'm not mad anymore. I'm sorry that I was mad."

She cupped my face gently, her hands trembling. "Thank you, my sweet girl. You have such a forgiving heart. I hope...you never lose that, no matter how hard things get."

"What is it that you want to give me, Mama?" I wiped my tears, changing the subject.

"Oh, it's in a black box with a blue ribbon, on my dresser," she explained, and then she coughed again, the sound jagged and painful.

I stood up, my legs feeling unsteady as I walked over to her dresser. There, nestled between dusty trinkets and faded memories, sat the black box. I picked it up gingerly and returned it to her side, sitting down once more.

"Open it. I promise you'll like it-, I bet Tōya will, too." She encouraged, a faint smile gracing her lips.

I pulled the blue ribbon and lifted the lid slowly. Inside, I found a black blindfold, smooth and unblemished. "What is it for, Mama?" I asked, confusion swirling in my mind.

Mama chuckled weakly, the sound fragile but filled with love. "It's to cover your eyes, Sweetheart. Remember when you thought your eyes were a burden because they're from your father's side? I thought that maybe this would help you feel better."

Flashback:

The memory was vivid, like it had happened yesterday. I was curled in Mama's lap, clutching her kimono as my tears soaked through the fabric. My small body trembled with every sob that tore through me.

"Mama," I choked out, barely able to speak through the lump in my throat. "I don't want these eyes! If they didn't look like this, then maybe... Maybe... Father wouldn't hurt you. I don't want you to get hit by him anymore because of me." My fingers gripped her kimono even tighter as the words spilled out, each one heavier than the last.

Mama's arms wrapped around me, holding me close like I was the most precious thing in the world. She tilted my face upward gently, her own eyes shimmering with tears she tried to hide.

She spoke softly, her voice trembling but full of love. "Oh, my darling, your eyes are not the reason for his anger. They are not the reason he hurts me. That's all on him, not you. Never you." She brushed the tears from my cheeks with her thumb, her touch warm and comforting.

"But Mama," I whimpered, my voice cracking, "if I didn't have them, he wouldn't-"

She shook her head firmly, interrupting me. "No, Y/n. Don't you ever blame yourself for his cruelty. Your eyes, my love, are a gift. They're one of the most beautiful things about you, and they carry a legacy that he could never understand. Don't let his hatred take that away from you."

I sniffled, trying to steady my breathing, but the ache in my chest wouldn't go away. "But it feels like it's my fault," I whispered, barely audible.

She reassured me, her voice steady now, as if willing me to believe her. "It's not, you are not responsible for his actions. I'm so proud of you, my sweet girl, and I'll endure anything if it means keeping you safe. Promise me you'll never doubt how special you are, okay?"

"Then let me take the hits," I choked out through the tears streaming down my face. "I'll protect you, Mama. I don't want you to get hurt anymore because of me." I repeated, my small hands gripped her kimono desperately, as if holding onto her could somehow shield her from the pain.

Mama's face softened, and her arms tightened around me, pulling me close. "Oh, my sweet baby," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You're so brave...too brave for someone so small. But it's not your job to protect me. It's my job to protect you."

I shook my head, tears spilling faster. "But he's so much meaner to you because of me. If I take all of it instead, he'll leave you alone, won't he? Please, Mama, let me do this for you, it can be the birthday and holiday gifts that I'm not allowed to get you..."

Her breath hitched, and she cupped my face with trembling hands, forcing me to look into her tear-filled eyes. "Y/n, listen to me. You are a child, three years old. You shouldn't even have to think about protecting me, do you understand? This is not your fault, and it's not your burden to bear."

"But-" I started to speak.

She interrupted, her voice firm despite the sadness in her expression. "-No, you are the brightest light in my life. I'd take every hit, every ounce of pain, if it means you can stay that way. Promise me you'll never think like this again, my love. You deserve to live freely, without this guilt. That's all I want for you."

I didn't say anything, just buried my face in her chest, sobbing as she held me tightly. Mama rocked me back and forth, her hands stroking my hair soothingly, but her tears mingled with mine, and I knew this pain wasn't going away anytime soon. But her words sank into my heart. I couldn't understand how she could endure so much and still find the strength to love me so completely. How did she not hate me?

The Present (Now):

"Thank you, Mama. I'll always wear it; I don't care what Father says." My voice broke as tears streamed down my face.

"I'm so glad..." She responded, her smile dimming as exhaustion overtook her.

"I love you, Mama." I wiped my tears with the sleeve of my kimono, wishing I could shield her from the pain of our reality.

"I... Love you too." She replied, her voice trailing off as she suddenly fell silent; she passed out terrifyingly quick.

I placed the blindfold back into the box and stood, my heart racing as I opened and closed the sliding door with deliberate care. I dashed back to my washitsu, my mind racing, and closed the door quietly to avoid waking Father.

I lay down on my futon, the events of the night swirling in my thoughts. As I closed my eyes, I clutched the soft fabric of my kimono, whispering a silent promise to the darkness. No matter what happened, I would keep the memory of Mama alive.

Time-skip:

The training sessions had not slowed down; if anything, they had intensified under the watchful eye of Father. I could barely catch my breath; my stomach twisted in knots from both the physical exertion and the emotional turmoil.

"Stop throwing up and stand up already," he barked, his voice harsh and unyielding.

 "You're hitting me in my stomach too hard!" I protested, tears streaming down my face as I fought to regain my composure. My body ached from the relentless drills, but the pain was a mere shadow compared to agony lurking in my heart.

"If you can't handle that, then forget about being better than All Might or Endeavor," he spat out. In that moment, I felt small, crushed beneath the weight of expectations that seemed impossible to bear.

"I don't want to be a hero anymore!" I shouted defiantly, my voice cracking under the pressure of my emotions. The words hung in the air, a challenge and a plea all at once.

"The hell did you say?! You're shouting at me now? I bet it's because of that damn woma-!" his anger was palpable, rising like a storm, but the moment was abruptly interrupted by the sliding door of the training room being thrown open.

"Mr. L/n..." the doctor sighs, his tone heavy with the weight of sorrow. "I'm afraid that Mrs. L/n won't live much longer. A week at most."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I felt the world tilt beneath my feet, tears pooling in my eyes. "No! You gotta save my Mama! You gotta!" I cried, rushing toward the doctor, my hands gripping the fabric of his white coat as if it could somehow tether the life of Mama to this moment.

"Wait... Mr. L/n, you didn't tell me that this was your daugh-" He started, but Father's rough hand pulled me away before he could finish.

"-You damn brat!" Father yelled, hitting the back of my head with enough force to knock me out. He then turned to the doctor, forcing a veneer to control over his emotions. "I'm sorry about that. What were you saying?"

The doctor continued, his voice somber. "Um, your wife won't live much longer. I suggest you and your daughter talk to her for one last time."

"I want to see Mama." I demanded, my heart pounding with desperation, still sniffling from the tears.

"No." Father replied, his voice as cold as steel, leaving no room for argument.

"Wha-?" I choked out, the denial cutting deeper than any physical pain could.

"Just stay here until she dies or something." Father said dismissively, waving his hand to shoo the doctors away.

The doctors hesitated, their faces marked by sympathy, before quietly closing the sliding door behind them.

Once again, I was left alone with Father. As if the heart-wrenching news had been nothing but a fleeting nuisance, he resumed my training. Punch after punch, kick after kick, the rhythm of our existence returned to the same cruel beat.

But once the training session ended, a new torment awaited. He dragged me to the shed, locking me in without a second thought. The darkness enveloped me, and I was left alone in a world void of light, comfort, food, or water. It was an unbearable burden for a girl who just wanted to be loved, to be seen beyond the legacy of greatness that my father insisted I must uphold.

Two days later, Mama's frail, quiet breathing stopped altogether, and my world shattered into pieces. I hadn't even been allowed to say goodbye. Father, cold and indifferent, hadn't given me that chance. Instead, I had been confined to the cold, damp confines of the shed, a space that had become a prison for me.

On that day, I turned the "bright" age of four. It was supposed to be a celebration of life-, a day marked by joy and laughter, surrounded by loved ones and cake. But it became a stark reminder of the indifference that enveloped my existence. My father, a figure who should have been a source of comfort, was anything but. He didn't hold a funeral, didn't offer any kind of mourning, instead letting strangers take Mama's body away for tests and experiments like she was nothing more than an object for study.

Author's Note: (We're going to do a HUGE time-skip here, so literally just before this you turned four, but after this you'll be five. Why? I have good reasons, it's mostly to add up with timeline (I have something big planned {backstory wise} and it's good for the lore). Yes, it is a HUGE time-skip, but there will be a whole chapter on it later on and it'll make sense, I swear; trust 🙏).

Time-skip: (You're Now Five):

It had been a whole year without Mama, and immediately after she was gone, it felt as though Mama's life had been erased, as if she had never mattered at all. My pain was raw and unbearable, but Father showed no mercy, demanding that I train harder every day, pushing me past the breaking point.

The beatings intensified as his rage seemed to grow with every passing month, his fury directed at me with greater force when I failed to meet his cruel expectations.

Yet, in the quietest, loneliest hours of the night, when Father's snores filled the house, I would sneak out, my heart aching as I made my way to the garden and pond Mama had once tended so lovingly.

It was the only place that felt like Mama was still there, surrounded by the vibrant flowers that had been carefully cultivated with such care. I wandered through the overgrown plants, running my tiny fingers over the petals, trying to remember the smell of the blossom's Mama used to care for, the way Mama's hands would gently stroke the leaves as she talked to the flowers.

I eventually stood by the pond, staring at the still water, wondering if Mama was still there, watching me from below, as if she was still drowning by Father's hand, trying to reach me.

I shudder and look away from the pond immediately. I will always be traumatized from that experience. I just decide to look around at the different flowers and the bright green grass being blown by the wind slightly as the fireflies flew around.

Then, I see a beautiful shade of blue shining in the dark.

I walk towards the flower, and I see that it's a blue Emperor Dahlia. The one that Mama said reminded her of me.

Flashback: 

Mama's voice was honey-warm-, with a sweetness that resonated in my heart-, her words wrapping around me like sunlight through lace. "It reminds me of you-, sharp and strong at the edges, yet beautiful all the same, with a touch as soft as its petals. And the color... it's the same as your eyes. They'll always be beautiful, my darling, just like this flower."

The world seemed to still as I absorbed Mama's words, the air turning gentle and weightless as her voice lingered in the space between us. Then, with a quiet reverence, she went on. "Do you know what makes it even more special? This is the rarest flower in the world. Hardly anyone ever sees one. Even when cut from its stem, it does not wither... and when night falls, it glows. I was lucky enough to find the seeds-, it cost me a fortune. But things this rare are worth it. People like you are worth it." She concluded, her smile radiating love.

The Present (Now):

Something inside me stirred, a quiet longing for the Mama I lost, and I reached down, gently plucking the flower from its stem.

Its petals were soft and shined in the moonlight, just as Mama said. I then hold it to my chest, my tears landing on the flower. "I love you, Mama."

I hung around the garden a little while longer and with the flower clutched in my hand, I made my way back inside, careful not to wake my father as I entered my washitsu.

I place the flower on my dresser, a simple act of defiance, a way to hold onto Mama for just a little longer. After staring at it for a moment, I crawled onto my futon, the weight of everything pressing against my chest as I tried to sleep.

Time-skip:

Sunlight filtered through the window, and I awoke to find the flower still there, nestled on my dresser.

I slowly stood up, running to my dresser to grab the flower, smiling softly. But as I was standing there, I heard the familiar heavy footsteps of Father approaching, and I didn't have time to hide the flower anywhere.

His voice rang out as he opened the shoji door. "Brat, get up! Time to train," he barked, his tone as sharp as ever.

I didn't move, my hand still holding the flower, but as Father entered the room, his eyes immediately locked in on the Dahlia in my hand.

His face twisted with rage as he stormed toward me. "Where did you get that?" He demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

I looked at him, the flower still pressed against my chest as I stumbled, "I- Um-" I tried to get my words out.

"Where'd you get it?" He seethed, asking a second time.

I didn't answer him, and just from my silence, he knew I got it from Mama's garden.

"Give it here, Y/n." He ordered.

"No." I whispered, my voice trembling but resolute.

His eyes darkened with fury as he grabbed my wrist with a strength that made me flinch. "Give me the flower!" He yelled, his grip tightening painfully.

"No, I won't-!" I start to say but Father snaps. Without warning, he slaps me across the face, knocking me back onto my futon. His geta sandals crushed the flower as he stomped on it, grinding the delicate petals into the floor.

"You think you can just take things like that? You don't get to keep anything from her. She's dead, and so is this flower!" He then began to beat me, his hands and fists landing on me with brutal force, ignoring my cries, while his eyes burned with rage.

I curled into myself, trying to protect the grinded, tiny piece of Mama, but Father's anger was overwhelming, and the last thing I remembered before the darkness swallowed me whole was the crushing weight of his stomp on the flower, its petals ruined beyond recognition.

Time-skip:

The next day, Father's fury had no end, and it wasn't long before he destroyed everything Mama had once loved and cherished. The garden, once a quiet sanctuary where I had found solace in the memory of Mama's gentle touch, was ripped apart-, every flower torn from its roots and the soil trampled underfoot.

He threw out all of Mama's things-, every kimono, every brush of make-up, every hair accessory, and the beautiful trinkets Mama had once gifted me were cast aside like they were worthless.

He even destroyed the few photographs of Mama that remained, tearing them to shreds in front of me. I watched helplessly as the world I had known, the world that had still held fragments of Mama, was erased completely.

But there was one thing I managed to hold onto, something small and precious-, the blindfold Mama had given me. It was tucked away safely in its box, hidden deep in the corner of my room where Father would never find it.

It was the only piece of Mama that remained, the only thing left that made me feel connected to the woman who had loved me.

My chest tightened-, the loss of Mama, the cruelty of Father, the shattered life I had been forced into. The darkness and pain suffocated me, and I realized that I couldn't live like this anymore. I can't endure another day of being nothing but an object for Father to control and break.

I didn't pack anything, didn't take anything but the blindfold, wrapped carefully in its box. This was all I needed to carry, the last piece of Mama's love, the last thing that made me feel human.

I slipped quietly out of the house, my heart pounding in my chest as I stepped into the light of the day, unsure of where I could go, but I knew I had to leave.

The life I had been living was no longer a life at all. I couldn't stay at that house, under the roof of a man who had stolen everything from me.

As I ran into the light, I clutched the blindfold box tightly, the only thing left to remind me that I had once been loved, once been seen for who I was.

(Midoriya's P.O.V.):

Ever since I had saw that pretty girl, I always hoped to see her again when me and Mom went shopping for groceries.

I'd see her walking along the sidewalks, streets, and even across the little bridges near the town, always with her mom by her side.

The pretty girl never smiled, but it wasn't sadness that I saw in her, no-, more like a quiet kind of contentment, as if she was simply at peace in her own world, walking beside her mom.

What struck me the most was the softness in her eyes whenever she looked at her mom. It was as if she adored her, as though the bond between them was something precious.

I couldn't quite explain it, but I could feel how deeply she loved her mom, and in a way, I admired her for that.

But then, over time, I noticed that the pretty girl and her mom stopped coming outside. At first, it was just a few days here and there, and then it stretched into weeks. Eventually, they stopped appearing altogether.

I wondered what happened but never dared to search for her.

And I didn't know why, but all I wanted was to see her again, just one more time, to see that quiet, soft look in her eyes as she walked with her mom...

And then I did.

Time-skip:

Honestly, it really was a normal day for me, or as I liked to think of myself-, an aspiring hero in the making. I had spent the morning indulging in my usual ritual of watching old videos of All Might, the Symbol of Peace, impersonating him in front of Mom as she went about the dishes. The atmosphere in our home was warm and cheerful, filled with laughter and love.

"Izuku, we have to go grocery shopping today. We don't have anything for dinner." Mom said, her voice soft and nurturing as she wiped her hands on a dishcloth.

"Okay, Mom," I replied, always willing to oblige, especially when it meant spending time with her.

After getting ready, we set off down the street. I hummed happily, holding Mom's hand. Her gentle smile made my heart swell with joy, but the serenity of our day took an unexpected turn when we passed by a tree.

"Hey, Izuku? Isn't that the girl you said was pretty?" She pointed, breaking the peaceful spell of the moment.

I turned to look and saw her-, the enchanting girl with her back against the tree trunk, arms hugging her knees as she rested her head on them. She was wearing a beautiful kimono, the same one I had first seen her in, and clutched a small box in her right hand. The sight was enough to make my heart race, and I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks.

"Um, yeah..." I mumbled, suddenly feeling shy.

Before I could say anything else, Mom had already started walking towards the pretty girl, gently tugging me along with her.

"Uh-, Mom, what are you doing?" I asked, a bit alarmed.

"I'm going to talk to her." She stated simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"B-But Mom-" I stammered, but we were already standing in front of the pretty girl, who looked up at us.

Author's Note: (Again, imagine what your hair looks like).

"Um... What's your name?" Mom asked, her tone warm and inviting.

To my surprise, the pretty girl didn't respond. She merely stares at us, silent and still.

"What are you doing out here all by yourself, Sweetheart? Do you need any-"

The pretty girl interrupted, her voice soft but firm. "My mama called me that."

"Huh? Called you what?" Mom asked, slightly taken aback.

"Sweetheart." The pretty girl murmured quietly, her gaze dropping to the ground.

"Oh. Well, um, what are you doing out here by yourself?" Mom continued, her compassion evident in her voice.

The moment hung in the air, heavy with unspoken feelings, until the pretty girl finally said, "I don't want to go home."

"Aw, why not?" She asked gently, but the pretty girl remained silent, her expression unreadable.

Mom sighed softly, her maternal instincts kicking in. "Well, me and my son Izuku are going to the store for groceries... Do you perhaps want to join us?" She offered, hoping to provide a distraction or comfort.

After a moment of contemplation, the pretty girl nodded slightly, standing up. She dusted off her kimono and joined us as we walked down the street towards the grocery store. I felt a mix of nervousness and curiosity, glancing at the pretty girl occasionally.

Once inside the store, I decided to break the ice.  "So, uh, how old are you?" I asked timidly, my heart racing.

"Five." The pretty girl said coolly, her tone sending chills down my spine.

I froze, feeling suddenly very small in her presence. "Oh... Y-You're the same age as me..." I stuttered, sweat starting to form on my brow.

The pretty girl didn't respond. Instead, she darted away, running towards the candy aisle, her eyes lighting up at the sight of sweets. "I want this," she declared, pointing at an array of colorful treats, specifically mochi.

"Oh, um, okay." Mom replied, a little surprised but kind-hearted as always.

With a slight nod, Mom grabbed a few items from the candy section and added them to the cart. The pretty girl remained quiet, her expression unchanging, as Mom gathered the necessary items from her list. As we checked out and left the store, I couldn't shake the feeling that this day was anything but ordinary.

Time-skip:

Mom, ever the warm and welcoming figure, handed the bag of sweets to the girl whose beauty was undeniable. "Here." She said softly with a smile.

The pretty girl sat on our living room coffee table, her petite figure barely containing the aura of mystery that surrounded her. As she selected pieces of mochi from the bag, her satisfaction was evident in the gentle hum that escaped her lips.

With the sweetness of the mochi lingering in the air, the pretty girl grabbed the small box that she had been carrying. Curiosity piqued; I watched as she opened it to reveal a black blindfold.

It was an unusual item to bring, and I couldn't help but wonder about its significance. As she attempted to place it over her eyes, her struggle didn't go unnoticed. Mom, ever perceptive, offered her assistance. "Do you want me to help you put it on?" She asked, her tone gentle and reassuring.

The pretty girl hesitated, a fleeting moment of uncertainty passing across her features before she nodded slowly. Mom carefully helped her, and despite the blindfold shrouding her vision, she still exuded a certain elegance that was hard to ignore.

Mom stepped away to the kitchen to prepare dinner, leaving us in a tentative silence. Seizing the moment, I took the opportunity to strike up a conversation. "So, what's your name? Mine is Izuku Midoriya." I introduced myself with an eager smile.

She replied, her guarded demeanor beginning to soften just a fraction. "L/n. Y/n L/n."

Encouraged, I pressed on. "Okay! Do you want to be friends, maybe? You'd be my second friend!"

The response was swift and sharp. "No." Her voice was unyielding, leaving me momentarily deflated.

"Oh, uh- That's okay! Maybe we'll be friends later!" I quickly recovered, trying to maintain my optimism. "But do you have a quirk? What is it?"

"I don't want to talk about it, but I do have a quirk." She said, her words laced with reluctance.

"That's fine. But I, um, don't have a quirk..." I admitted, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me.

"You don't have a quirk?" Her interest piqued momentarily, but it quickly faded.

"Yeah, I don't have one..." I replied, my gaze dropping to the floor.

"I wish I didn't have one." She said, her voice monotone yet heavy with an unexpressed pain.

My heart raced at her unexpected confession. "Really?! Why?! I wish I had a quirk!" I exclaimed, bewildered by her sentiments.

"It seems we want the opposite things," she stated matter-of-factly. "Anyways, I don't want to talk about it."

I could sense her discomfort and tried to pivot the conversation. "Okay... But I just want to protect people!" I insisted, longing for her to see the bright side.

"Protect?" She murmured softly.

"Mm-hm! Protect! You know what that means, right-"

"Yes. Yes, I do. My mama used to protect me." She interrupted, her words carrying a weight that resonated deeply within me.

"Oooo~ From what? Villains? Is your mom a hero?" I beamed with sparkling eyes.

"No. But she used to be my hero." She spoke softly.

"Oh..." I didn't know what she meant but I pretended to understand. "Well, want to watch TV? Or-, even better All Might's old rescue video? I have it on our computer!" I excitement bubbled over, hoping to find some common ground.

"No." She replied sharply, her tone biting.

I flinched at her response. "O-Okay... Never mind then..." I looked down, a hint of disappointment creeping into my voice. "Well, want to play with me? Or we could do something else!" I asked, trying to be joyful again.

"Are you always this happy and energetic?" She asked, her scowl deepening.

"Um, sorry... Am I not supposed to? I just want to be happy, to have a smile on my face just like All Might does!" I cheerfully replied, determined the lift the mood.

"I don't care for him. Don't mention him again." She said, her voice harsher than before.

"How could you not care? He's so cool! He always saves people with a big smile no matter how dark things get!" I jumped onto our light purple couch, buoyed by my enthusiasm.

"Izuku, you know you shouldn't be jumping on the couch!" Mom's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"Oh-, sorry Mom!" I quickly apologized, feeling sheepish.

Mom walked into the living room, a smile gracing her lips. "Dinner's done." She turned to L/n, offering, "You can join us if you'd like."

L/n simply continued to enjoy the sweets from the bag, her answer unspoken but clear.

"Oh, okay... That's fine too, I guess. No worries." She replied, gracefully accepting the pretty girl's choice.

Then, unexpected banging at our door shattered the calm atmosphere in our apartment.

Mom, usually a pillar of strength, hesitated before the door, her demeanor shifting from maternal warmth to palpable anxiety. "Um, I'll be back." She said nervously, a hint of dread creeping into her voice. Instinctively followed her, curious and concerned, no one had ever banged on our door this aggressively.

Mom cautiously unlocked and opened the door. Standing before us was a man-, wild-eyed and desperate. His expression was a storm of rage and control, a combination that sent shivers down my spine. "Um, do you need anything, sir?" Mom asked gently.

"Where is my daughter? I know she's here. I used my quirk to track her." The random man seethed, his voice dripping with intensity.

Mom's initial composure wavered further as she stammered, "The girl?" It was a question laced with both confusion and fear, as if she were still processing the gravity of the situation.

"Yes, the girl! Give me back my daughter!" His voice erupted, resonating through the small confines of our home like a thunderclap. It was a command filled with desperation, a father's demand to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his.

In a daze, Mom rushed to the living room, bringing back L/n-, his daughter-, the pretty girl I had only recently met. The sight of her, trembling and blindfolded, struck a chord deep within me. Even without seeing her eyes, I could sense her terror, a visceral fear that hung in the air like a thick fog.

L/n's dad loomed over her, his voice turned harsh, a mix of fury and frustration spilling over. "What the hell were you thinking? Running away? To these people? You don't even know them! I don't want you near them ever again, you got that!?!"

The anger directed at L/n felt unjust; a misdirected whirlwind aimed at a girl who had simply sought refuge. The fear in her posture was almost palpable as he continued, "And-, wait... Where did you get this blindfold?" His question sliced through the tension, revealing another layer of this disturbing interaction.

When L/n didn't answer, he looked at my mom, "Did you give this to her?!" He erupted at Mom, rage fueling his words.

"N-No, she already had it before she came with us, I swear!" She pleaded, her voice trembling in the face of his wrath.

But L/n's father wasn't looking for answers; he was looking for a scapegoat. His attention snapped back to his daughter. "Get this piece of trash off of your face!" He shouted, yanking the blindfold away with a violent motion, discarding it like an unwanted relic.

"Father, no! That's mine!" She protested, her voice a desperate plea. But the man's grip was iron, his rage unchecked. In a shocking moment on brutality, he struck her, and L/n crumpled, the light in her eyes snuffed out as she fell into unconsciousness.

As he stormed out, slamming our apartment door behind him, silence enveloped the room, heavy and suffocating. Mom trembled, the weight of the encounter settling heavily upon her shoulders. "I-I can see why she didn't want to go back h-home..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, filled with sorrow.

"Mm-hm... He was scary." I mumbled, the fear from the encounter clinging to my heart.

As Mom knelt down, wrapping her arms around me in a protective embrace, I felt the warmth of her love battling against the chill of the night. In that moment, we shared an unspoken understanding; not all families are sunshine and rainbows.

Time-skip: (A Day Later: {Your P.O.V.}):

I woke up gasping for breath, my heart racing as if I had just sprinted a marathon. I sat upright on my futon, disoriented, my head pounding in rhythm with my fraying nerves.

I reminisce on the events that happened yesterday and touch my face. Mama's blindfold was gone. My eyebrows furrowed in anguish, and a soft sniffle escaped me.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim light of the lamp illuminating the washitsu, I saw him-, Father-, sitting silently in a chair by the door, watching my every move.

"You thought you could run from me?" He hissed. Fear twisted in my chest, but anger burned just as fiercely.

"M/n gave you that blindfold, didn't she? That damn woman. Well, it's good now that she's dead." He spat.

I look at him with rage, standing up as I cried. "YOU killed Mama! I wish it had been you, not her!" I screamed, my voice raw with pain as tears streamed down my face.

"You little-" He lunged at me, a wild fury in his eyes, but I acted instinctively, using my quirk to attract a glass vase from my nightstand and the vase shattered against his skull with a sickening crack, sending shards flying. Blood streamed down his face as he staggered back momentarily, stunned, but burning with wrath.

My breath hitched as panic overtook me, and before he could recover, I bolted out of my washitsu, my bare feet pounding against the cold floors.

Father bellowed as I burst through the door and into the stormy night. "GET BACK HERE, YOU STUPID BRAT!"

Rain poured from the sky, soaking me to the bone, my hair clinging to my face like a second skin. I ran as if my very soul depended on it, driven by pure survival, knowing that if he caught me again, I might not live to see another day.

I didn't dare look back. I ran until my lungs burned, until my legs screamed for respite, until the darkness enveloped me like a comforting cloak.

Yet, I somehow made it back to that kid's house, the one with dark green hair. Midorm? Midory? Midoro? I forgot what his name was. I knocked on their door anyways.

The boy quickly opened the door, maybe he was waiting for someone? And why was he answering instead of his mom? I wondered but it didn't matter to me. The boy was obviously surprised that I was at their door at this time of night. "Oh, hello!" He timidly said. "Oh, and here's your blindfold... Your dad threw it on our floor yesterday."

I take the blindfold in my small hands, nodding. "Don't call him my dad. Just call him F/n (Father's name). That's what I'll be referring to him as from now on... Anyway, I want to stay here. And what was your name again?" I asked.

"Izuku Midoriya. And I'll have to ask my mom..." He said with a tad bit of excitement.

"I see... Well, ask her quickly." I forced my way inside, which made Midoriya sweat drop.

Midoriya nodded, darting down the hallway, leaving me standing in the cozy entrance. Moments later, his mom was running to me quickly, concern etched across her features. "Are you alright? Izuku informed me that you wanted to stay here..."

"That's correct. I told him to ask you." I replied.

Ms. Midoriya regarded me thoughtfully. "Well, uh, I guess you could stay in Izuku's room, if you want to."

"That's fine, as long as I don't have to go back home." I responded quickly.

"Alright... Let me arrange some things." She said before heading upstairs.

Midoriya's eyes sparkled with a childlike enthusiasm. "We're going to be together! Isn't that so cool?!"

"I suppose..." I muttered, still grappling with the remnants of fear that clung to me like the rain.

"Well, when my mom is done with my room, wanna play with my All Might toys?" He asked with joy.

I spoke harshly, "I told you to not mention him again, plus, I don't feel like doing that sort of stupid thing."

Midoriya tilted his head slightly, "Why?"

"Why would I after what happened, you saw F/n-, you witnessed it. He's not a good person and he's plaguing my thoughts right now-, and All Might is stupid." I said coldly, shaking my head.

"So, he's a bad Dad?" He asked all of a sudden, his innocent gaze searching my face for answers.

I looked at him, bewildered, but agreed. "Yeah, he is."

"Well, don't worry. From this point onward, I'll protect you!" He declared, puffing out his chest as if he could actually shield me from the shadows of my past.

I looked at him with a bit of awe, a warmth blooming in my chest. He reminded me so much of Mama-, so hopeful, so brave.

This was the beginning of me and Midoriya's friendship.