Chapter 63: The Final Condition

40 2 0
                                    


The darkness gave way to images. He stood behind a younger version of himself, watching as his child self sat in awe.

"Hey mom!" he yelled as he got up and ran to his mother who was reading a book in the other room.

"What is it?" she asked, partially closing her book. His adult self could see the infinite patience of his mother at work. He couldn't help but smile as his younger self practically vibrated his excitement.

"I want to be a hero!" he said.

"I saw a hero on tv and he was the coolest guy ever!" he continued, pointing to the tv in the other room.

"You want to be a hero when you grow up?" she asked, smiling.

"Yeah! Heros are the coolest!" he said gleefully.

"Well, you will have to wait until you find out what your quirk is first. Then we can talk about it later," she said.

His younger self nodded then sped back to the tv. His mother laughed and went back to her book, a smile on her face.

_________________________________________________________

He threw a chair across the room in anger and screamed in rage before he flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling in brooding anger. More failure, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't figure out his quirk. He could feel his quirk, feel its potential to do... something! But it eluded him, as it had ever since he'd first manifested it. The specialists weren't entirely sure what it was supposed to do either.

His older self looked down at his teenage self, and he couldn't help but give a snort of laughter at his immaturity.

The door to his room opened and his father walked in. He saw the chair laying on its side on one side of the room and his son laying on his bed fuming and an annoyed look came over him.

"I told you to stop throwing things," he said sternly.

"Whatever..." said the teenager petulantly.

"I know it's frustrating but you can't throw things whenever it upsets you! Now pick up that chair and put it back in its proper place, then clean up your room." his father barked.

The teenager's petulance only deepened, but he got up and violently righted the chair and put it back in front of his desk which was littered with notes.

"When you are done cleaning your room that you wrecked, come see me in the living room. We need to have a talk." his father said before leaving, closing the door behind him.

The teenager slowly cleaned up his floor until it was in a moderate state of cleanliness before he got to his desk covered in notes. Pages upon pages of trying to theorize his quirk's functionality. His time to figure something out was slipping away, he'd have to try and take the entrance exam to the hero school next year. He snatched up the papers angrily and crumpled them up before throwing them into the trash. Then he left his room to see what his father wanted.

__________________________________________________________

"Look, it's the two freaks." someone said not so quietly.

Ryu had just walked into his class, and by chance, the small animal person called Nezu had come in at about the same time as him.

They both ignored the jab and sat down next to each other at the front of the class as per usual. This had become a common occurrence in his hero school life. Constantly ridiculed and looked down upon for having such a strange quirk that he struggled to make sense of and even use. He hadn't even used his quirk to get into the school. It had been the sword training his father had given him that had secured his spot in the school. A fact that hadn't escaped notice by quite a few people. He was labeled a freak and many wondered if he even had a quirk. Even the teachers didn't really know how to work with his quirk. He knew that a few of the teachers didn't like him, others pitied him, and only a few genuinely wanted to help him.

Requiem of the BrokenWhere stories live. Discover now