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I was four years old the first time I was looked at like a monster and maybe they were right to. But kids are cruel and teachers rarely care about that sort of thing.
It was during break when I walked over to sit down on the rug when I was pushed down on the floor. I get kicked hard into the ribs. “You think anyone wants you with that quirk?” One of them asks. “My mom says you’re just asking to be a villain,”
“What’s your favorite color?” I ask my voice breaking.
The kid laughs. “You think-“ he gets cut off as I activate my quirk. “Stop,” I order him and he does.
That was the end of that. Well at least it was until I left school. One of the kids grabbed my book bag and dragged me behind the building kicking and screaming. One of them clasps a hand over my mouth.
“Forget that you’re a hero. You’re not and you never will be,” is what’s whispered into my ear. And then I was shoved onto the ground hard.
The only thing I’ve learned since then is that you’re only treated fairly if you fit the mold socity makes for you.
You have to be a male with a good, honest, quirk just to be respected.
But I don’t belive that. That’s not how I work. I’ve been a hero for three years now, and I’ve learned that those who don’t fit the mold are much better people then the ones who do.
That girl you see wearing those skimpy clothes she’s not a hooker that’s just what she wears. Most heroes never check in on those. I do.
Because those who don’t fit the mold are the ones that always get hurt. So yeah, if I see those types I check in on them. I make sure they’re ok.
Because when I was that four year old I hoped that some stranger would have asked me that and would have been willing to help me.
Even if my parents were great.