Save my soul [Boku no Hero Academia]

.:Prologue:.

You've got your chains wrapped around me so tight

give me enough just to keep me alive

I try to run but it hurts everyime

Nothing I can do to save my soul

--

JoJo

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I remember the first time it happened. 

I was 8 years old when my quirk first appeared. Blinded by the delight that I had a quirk, I ignored the aching pain of my broken finger. I drowned out the worried yelling my parents called out as I watched the swing float in mid air. The chains bent and slack as the wooden plank hovered, twisting and turning clumsily in the air.

I was filled with a warm happiness, even as I sat in the doctor's chair, even with the pain shooting up my arm as they stilted and bandaged my broken index finger. 

I was filled with a warm happiness even when they brought in a specialist to talk to me, to try and figure out what my quirk was. I had spent the next few years thinking it was telekinesis. 

Staring at a piece of paper in front of me I tried desperately to get it to float, to move, to do something. But the piece of paper remained still, unmoving, inanimate. I grit my teeth at 12 years old, siting at the kitchen table, staring at the piece of paper that seems to mock me. 

It didn't move, it didn't do anything, it sat there, taunting me in my failure. 

doubts were beginning to swarm my head at this point, whether that incident with the swing had been a dream, whether I actually had a quirk or not. But the miniscule scar on the tip of my finger by the first where the broken had protruded my skin. 

I clenched my jaw, hands belling as they sat rested on the table "come on, do something" I let out a frustrated huff under my breath as I glared down at the paper. 

I sat there for two hours, glaring at the paper, daring it to move, hoping that it would do something, anything at all. 2 hours wasted. The paper didn't make a single move, sitting there completely oblivious to my desperate attempts at manipulating it. 

In a fit of frustration, my hands surged forward and grasped the paper tightly, it crumpled beneath my anger fuelled fingertips. Crisp sheet collapsing into a ball underneath the pressure of my balled fists. I gave a pained hiss at the feeling of the thin edge of the paper cutting into the skin of the pad of my thing.

Releasing the paper, I glanced down at the injured appendage, just a small separation of skin, barely bubbling up with blood. Slipping my thumb into my mouth I attempted soothing the stinging cut. 

Flitting my eyes from my hand to the table, my jaw dropped at the sight before me, floating, like the swing from my childhood, was the ball of crumpled paper. I ignored the pain in my thumb, pulling it out of my mouth I sat up and shuffled towards the edge of the seat. 

"Okay (Y/n), you can do this" 

I exhaled deeply and held out my hand, holding it adjacent to the floating ball of paper, hand balled into a fist, slowly I uncurled my fingers. There was no movement for a moment before the crinkling sound of paper brushing against paper echoed in the empty room, the paper was slowly uncrumpling itself.

As my fingers spread out, the paper opened up until it laid flat, open, and almost brand new had it not been for the wrinkles where the paper had been folded on itself.