Just A Myth | Shota Aizawa

Chapter 19

Third person pov

Hitoshi was twelve when he separated from his pod during an incident he could scarcely remember. He recalled being afraid and cold. He'd called out for help-- for anyone, really, but no one answered. They'd all been whisked away as well. He knew they had, and he was alone. Hitoshi's magic had sung sadly at the time. His school was his family, and he loved them dearly. He was one of the only sirens within, but they adored him all the same. They treated him the same as they would treat anyone else. In the sea, his difference was celebrated. Here, it was frowned upon.

He was hurt badly when he washed ashore. Sirens were tricksters. Manipulators, if you would. When he'd found himself beached in the dead of night, he'd sung with what little magic he could gather up in his weakened state. It was really a miracle he'd been able to enchant anything at that point and at that age, but adrenaline was a hell of a drug. In his desperation, he'd chanted almost mindlessly into a small chunk of coral that had lodged itself in the gash in his chest. And just like that, he'd grown legs, and had been plunged into a world he still didn't understand.

Even now, he could feel the coral. It pulsed. It wasn't evil— it felt like a friend. But it was also stuck. His skin had long since healed over and left the enchanted piece unreachable. Its magic still pulsed strong in him. Even if he did remove it, would it do anything? It had been stuck in him so long, he wasn't sure there was a way to ever get it out.

This world on land was cruel and amazing in every way, he'd come to learn. Hitoshi would've returned to the sea, but the he wasn't sure how to go about getting his tail back. Not without help. Assuming he ever could get his new form back, was there anything out there for him? He felt disconnected from the ocean. From his home. It... wasn't a good feeling.

Even with the distant sensation buried in him, he still visited the ocean sometimes to talk, but it never bore good news. It was always quiet when he asked if any of them were still out there and alive. He'd thought the silence had meant they were all dead. Clearly, that had been wrong. He didn't know why the sea had neglected to tell him Atlantis was still out there, but he had to assume it had known that it would lead up to this moment. The ocean was like that. It seemed to know all that was, and all that would be.

With no records whatsoever and no parents to speak of, Hitoshi had been put in something called the Foster Care System upon appearing on the shore. His magic was a lot weaker on land and without the support of his fellow merfolk. He couldn't sing his tunes anymore. Not like he wanted to, anyway. He could ask questions, though. So that's what he did. He dubbed it his quirk and utilized it like the other humans utilized their odd abilities. 

His plan to try and fit in better backfired. Apparently, people didn't like his 'quirk' all that much. They dubbed him a future villain. Sirens were manipulators. In human history, Hitoshi had come to learn that they'd been named dangerous. That they'd coax sailors from their boats with illusions and soft-sung songs that placed a fog over the mind. His quirk mirrored that, so maybe that's why he was painted as wicked. The notion of his power was already noted as bad throughout history and the various fairy tales they had here. It was ingrained in most of society to view his power as evil.

Despite that, Hitoshi had stayed true to the goodness the ocean had always inspired in him and in its other children. He was a merman through and through, even with these legs. He wouldn't turn himself over to the wrong side of things. Even as a child of the sea, he'd grown fond of this world. The idea of heroes was enchanting to him. The idea of good reminded him of the ocean. Of all he'd lost.

As enrapturing as heroes were, that didn't stop him from dreaming of his family. Not even close. He wouldn't hesitate to rip the coral out of his own chest if that meant he could dive back into the sea and be with them. He missed his tail and the feeling of whizzing through water. The salty liquid filtering through his gills was a sensation he felt he had forgotten. There was so much bad on land. It wasn't nothing like the ocean. The ocean was a home he couldn't go back to alone, so maybe that's why he'd set out on the path to better the land. It was something he could do.