The day the Symbol of peace died, my father would sleep.
Agent Override. The highly trained and feared American CIA agent.
Yet somehow I'm caught in a Japanese schoolgirl uniform.
In a school.
For Heros.
I've killed Villains and Heros alike when...
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(Agent Override) Leona Highrun Kobayashi
Class: 1-A
Quirk: Quirkless???
I imagined cherry blossoms falling. Imagined a hand outstretched. Telling me I was more than I knew. I wanted to be told I was special.
I Imagined meeting my mother. I imagined her whispering that I was an angel.
I took a boy's wings when I was little. I saw him through the bars. He got stuck feeding the cattle. He got stuck feeding me. The first time I saw him, I thought he was an angel, come to save me. Then he took one look at my dirty clothes, my shallow face and sunken eyes. He spat the word quirkless at me. Like it was a curse. I later realized I was the curse. It made me sad. To be so insignificant. So small in a world that was so big. I knew it was bigger than the bars that held me.
He did not deserve to be an angel. Did not deserve to be beautiful.
The next time he came to give us food. I lured him close enough to the bars to grab him. The other, bitter and weak children helped me. I turned him around, put his wings through the bars. We put a cloth in his mouth to muffle his screams. And then we set to work. We scraped together every sharp object we had hidden away and slowly, slowly began removing his wings. The guards found us before we were even halfway through. They looked at the Angel with disappointment. His hot tears and even hotter blood was still fresh and streaming. Then they left him. The wings would never heal after the damage we had done. To them, he was already quirkless. So they left him to suffer my devices.
When his wings were removed I held them close. I was thrown in my own cell. The boy caught an infection and died. Or at least that's what I wish had happened. A month or so after, the boy entered my cell. Stumps on his back, indicating his wings were growing back it seemed.
He came in and looked at the rotting, disgusting wings that I still held. He had only a needle and thread in hand. We fought. He won. He forced me to the ground and sewed the infected wings to my back. Then he left me for dead.
I'm sure, that he, was wishing I caught an infection and died. I, however, did not. Instead, the wings merged themselves onto my back. Much to his dismay. They began healing and suddenly I was an angel.
They saw what happened and presumed to cut his almost fully healed wings off of him. They experimented on five people. However, none yielded the same results as me. It was at this point that they finally let him keep his wings. Wings that had gotten darker every time they took them. Their cloud white had become a midnight black. Instead of taking his wings, they took other things from other people and sewed them onto me. The first time they did it, the wings, melted into my back. Purple skin in the shape of wings wrapped around me. My body wouldn't accept much else. Only three other things properly mended with me. They were careful not to put those things in obvious locationing on my body.
