Hooded Decay

6. A mild introduction

Why don't I tell you more about me now that you've almost lost me entirely?

As I sit up at one in the morning, I have the sudden need to apologize for the lack of context, for throwing you off the deep end, for really just getting you into my story without much proper introduction.

I'm sure you know my name by now: I'm Jiyuu. Kimoto? Not really anymore, just on paper.

I'm nineteen years old. I was born and raised just five minutes outside of Tokyo. My family is pretty damn wealthy. We have six people in the family including myself.

My father works for a world-renowned hero called Endeavor. You may have heard of him. My dad's Quirk is Infernal, which gives him several of the abilities of a LITERAL demon(I know, ironic, right?). He's able to "possess" anything with a soul, controlling them and deceiving others. The ability is hard to control and, upon stopping, he will almost instantly pass out. He drinks a lot of coffee while under.

My mother works as a nurse who hates hospitals. Her Quirk is Soul Sight. She's able to see the power, mental and physical, of someone's soul. She often predicts how close someone is to death or to having an absolute mental breakdown. In order to do so, she must have direct contact with their chest. She sometimes believes that she can read people without it and is often very wrong.

Growing up, I played football. Soccer, for the uninitiated. I quit in high school in the middle of the season when I had my first panic attack in the middle of the football pitch. I didn't let the tears fall down my face until I got off the pitch entirely.

I burst out crying and began to hyperventilate.  One of the other team moms asked if I had asthma. I said no. She was convinced I did and asked if I needed an inhaler. I said no.

My mom and dad came up and asked what was wrong. I told them I didn't know. They asked if I needed water, if I was having an asthma attack(seriously, what made them think it was asthma when I've never had an asthma problem before?), and told me to stop crying, it was embarassing.

I told them I wouldn't go back on the pitch, I was done for the game. Dad was furious. He insisted I couldn't quit, that quitting now was weak and that I'd just started the season, I needed to stay.

I told them I couldn't do it anymore. I wouldn't play again. And I didn't.

I grew up in the same house my entire life, very sheltered from the outside world. At one point, my beliefs, my standpoints, my outlook on life aligned closely with what my family had set out for me, rolled out like a red carpet.

As I grew older, I realized how little I truly, deeply agreed with them. I was nothing like them and nothing like they wanted me to be.

My friends all came out to me when I was twelve. Corrupt politicians with closed-minded and awful views got elected into office and it sparked discussions between me and my friends that I'd never have at home. Heroes began to separate due to personal biases, and civil war among those who were meant to protect us broke out.

So from the age of thirteen I looked forward to the day that I could finally escape and be my own person without their judgement and without their bigotry.

So now, here I am, at the age of nineteen, sitting among the boxes around my room which are going to be moved out tomorrow so I can live in my own place.

I've forgotten a lot of my past, so the little I've retained are the memories others have of me. I was a very happy and imaginative kid. I liked to be on my own. Alone. Away from everyone else, doing whatever I wanted.

Crazy how fast life moves, huh? It feels like just yesterday I was in middle school, pretending I wasn't depressed and crying myself to sleep, being selectively mute, and ignoring everyone, even my friends.

I've retained some of that little middle school kid's habits. I still have my headphones in 24/7. YouTube is such a comfort, I put it on when I'm doing homework, or anything else. Especially the occult side of YouTube. And gamers, even though I'm shit at games. I still have a shit sleeping schedule, and I still find myself having an identity crisis at two in the morning sometimes.

One of the recent crisis topics? The man in the hoodie.

I haven't stopped thinking about him. It didn't hit me when I saw him in the building, but I realize now that I'd seen him before. He's the boy from my walk to school that one morning. The one that Sachiko had found a bit frightening.

He was a little scarier with the full face showing and the voice, but he'd saved my life, which pretty much neutralized my fear. Sure, I didn't want it in the moment, but little Jiyuu would be thankful, I think. Do I know what I'm going to do now? No. Did I plan this far ahead in my life? Of course not! But little Jiyuu wouldn't want to have fought this hard just for me to cut it off before I could move out.

After tomorrow, I can probably die happy.

But I won't. Not yet. 

Any questions? Good.

Anyway, I've got to move in the morning, so I'll be heading to sleep now. Thanks for listening.