Work Text:
Isato had always wanted to be a journalist, or maybe even a war correspondent.
Ever since their family had fled Taiwan to escape the growing hostility, and their aunt Somi had stayed behind. Just doing her job, she had said. Just giving the truth, she had said. And the truth had gotten her killed.
Isato's friends had been with them when they had gotten the message. And they understood, as they had all lost something precious when they went to the US, the land of promise.
Wren had gotten paralyzed from the waist down when an earthquake had struck her small town in Japan, but she had still been happy and cheerful, for she didn't need her legs to persued her gifts.
Ashaka's family was living in the slums of a city in India when her little brother had died at the age of four, and so they took their meagre life savings and gotten on a plane to the US, living with some relatives even as the grief of losing little Pranav weighed heavily on their minds.
Isato's friends were strong, and shared their stories on multicultural day, one with song, the other with art.
They had always wished to be like the other two girls, bold and brave and bright, even when their pale skinned classmates told them to go back to asia, and ridiculed them for the way they spoke, dressed, and ate.
But Isato knew in their heart that they couldn't just brush off the comments, or speak in front of people, or do anything of that sort. So they took to writing, just like aunt Somi had done, and had died for.
Eventually, Isato worked up the courage to write something about their aunt for multicultural day in sixth grade.
They had made a board about living in Taiwan and everything. So, after they had taken it to Wren and Ashaka, they showed it to their english teacher, who told them it was beautiful.
But when the board was put up, Isato could hear other kids ridiculing the topic. Who cared about some weirdos on an island? They asked. Why should we care? And Isato had taken the poster home and climed onto the roof of their family's small house, and cried.
They had spent so long finding the perfect words, and the words had failed them.
Wren had her voice, a beautiful voice that could enchant anyone, and ensnare them, like a siren, making them do her bidding, and no one mocked her.
Ashaka was as normal as could be, and no one gave her grief, not after the Horse Manure Incident, at least.
But Isato had their own gift; they could visit the world's of their dreams, the ones they wrote, the ones they read about. They had been to Middle Earth, Narnia, Alagaesia, and many, many more. But their power was regarded as nerdy by their peers.
So, instead, they decided to keep their writing to themselves. If no one else could enjoy their work, that was not Isato's problem, not in the slightest.
So Isato kept their work to themselves for many years, and eventually became a great writer of much repute, and when questioned about why they so loved writing, they would always reference the story of their aunt who had stayed in Taiwan to spread to truth to the world who needed it.