Ten, going on eleven years ago there was a house that sat on a quiet suburban road. More fancy than most, emblems of its creator's wealth decorated the stones, each of its rooms designed with the utmost thought. The yard was vast with pretty fencing. The surrounding properties were quiet and amicable. Above all, from foundation to roof, it was big enough to shelter a man, his wife, in-laws, and three children.
It was he, someone who wished to create a perfect, happy family that built the house from the ground up. But it was his youngest child who made a home out of it.
There was nothing that special about his daughter at first. She was a gentle-mannered baby, didn't cry very much, made a fuss with vegetables like most. Her growth was average, hair more common, eyes a blend of heritage. But sure enough, for all the ordinary aspects of her existence, there was light to her smile, to her laughter. And no one appreciated it more than a boy who didn't have very much to smile or laugh for till she was born.
It was with her Tenko shared his dreams, feet fidgeting under coarse blankets as they sat on the couch watching boring movies their mom put on. It was with her Tenko ran through that evergreen yard, pretending the trees were skyscrapers, the wind carrying villains in its mist, imaginary citizens just waiting to be saved, harbored under the porch. It was with her Tenko hoped he could walk to school once she was old enough, make the trip to that bully-infested place where quirkless kids got the worst of it, just a little more tolerable. It was with her Tenko someday hoped he'd go to UA, see her smile and wave goodbye from the famous blue arch the way she did every morning he left the house with his backpack on. Then one day he could do the same for her.
In that house, there wasn't much to do but dream. It was cold for a place that seemed so warm from the outside, shrouded in a pretty picture of a family while behind the curtains only the ugly showed.
Ever since she got her quirk, nobody dared touch Tenko's little sister. He didn't understand why. Hana, who loved playing with her, dressing her up, poking her nose- she couldn't get within a foot of her without their mother tugging Hana up and away. Grandpa and grandmother would take their granddaughter to the park all the time. Now, they didn't even put in the effort of strapping her into the carseat for a ride to the grocery store. Even mom and dad, such serious people softened by her constant joy, they stopped picking her up. Stopped pressing kisses to her head or even coursing a hand through her hair.
She was barely three. It went on for years.
The saddest part was that his sister didn't understand either, even after her fifth birthday passed. She'd never wanted anything, never asked for anything, never threw tantrums, never did anything wrong, never even dreamed. And all of the sudden, the people who'd been there her entire life were gone. All but one who never let her hand go.
So Tenko shared his dreams with her. He gave her his own smiles, his own laughter in hopes she wouldn't realize how much pain this world has to offer from beatings of an angry father to the coldness of an ignorant mother.
But Tenko dreamed far too much. His hope was far too great. As you walked through a far more honest representation of your home now, you could nearly feel the soul of that little boy passing through the rubble...
The sky was painted gray. The earth was silent apart from hesitant footsteps and that easy wind carrying old imagination. So when you could feel your heart beating in your throat, the shaky breaths in your chest, you knew the world had gone quiet just so you could hear the past.
Walking onto the closed off property, the ground looked torn apart by an earthquake's wrath. Stone and whatever pieces of the house that could survive all those years untouched, they marvelled at your return.
