Chapter One: Pamphlet

Yay! It’s the last day of school! That’s probably what, scratch that, that’s what everyone is thinking right now, in this crowded, loud hallway. I have no opinion on the day of school, wether its the first, second, or last. The lunch bell just rang, so everyone’s rushing down to get the good food, before all thats left are the salads. I brought my own lunch today, so I have no reason to run, push or shove. Not that I would want to do that even if I didn’t have a lunch. I head up to my normal spot for lunch. Taking the stairs, I headed to the roof. Students aren’t allowed to be on the roof, unless its for a class assighnment, but it’s not like anyone’s going to tell me to go down. It’d be funny to see them try though. Lunch is decent today, but he didn’t pack chopsticks for the stew, so I had to go all the way back down to get them. The unintelligence of that man is astounding, I’ll have to scold him when he picks me up. Once lunch was over, I headed down to my study hall class. Not surprisingly, no one was there. What would you need to study if it’s the last day of school? I like it that way, it’s much more quiet. Not having anything to do, I just sat down and looked at an ant trying to crawl up the glass. Halfway through the period, the principal came into the classroom. “Hi Reichiru!” He exclaimed, loudly, “Long time no see!” “Hi.” I said, not looking away from the ant, because I didn’t feel like having a ‘last-words-of-advice-speech’ conversation. Pulling up a chair besides me, I could see out of my peripheral vision, the old man sure hadn’t lost any weight like he said he would at the beginning of the year. “I want you to take a look at this.” He said, taking something out of his back pocket. “Later.” I really didn’t want to see what he had, nor did I want to look away from the ant, it had given up on climbing glass, and was now inspecting a piece of lint. He sighs, and places his unknown object on the table. “Reichiru,” He starts- Before he had even uttered my name, I knew what was coming. I had gotten used to that sigh. The type that has an implication of sadness mixed with acceptance. All the people around had used that sigh at one point or another. I knew I wouldn’t any time soon. To me, that sigh was a sign of defeat, telling other people that you’ve given up the fight. “Don’t,” I stated abruptly, “I don’t want to hear it.” “It’s been a year,” He continued, “There’s not really anything to be done about it.” “Don’t you think I know that?” I said, barely audible. “I came here to take your mind of things.” He said, sliding the unknown object towards me. Tearing my eyes away from the window, I looked down at it. “You have more than enough talent, both in your body and mind to do it. You were one of the most talented fighters I’ve ever seen, your drive and passion is unmatchable. You can compete with some of the most brilliant minds of the worlds. Your the most qualified person I can think of.” “Your insane,” I said “You really think I’ll do that?” Grabbing my backpack, I stood up and started heading out the door. “Heroes make the most money out of any current occupation.” He said. “I know that he doesn’t allow you to use his money to help them, but with this, you could.” I stopped in the doorways, thinking, pondering, weighing the pros and cons. Pros: He’s right, it does make a lot of money. And it would be a good way to gage how hard it would be to make money in the world of heroes. The Cons are that I simply don’t want or need to. “If I do it, I’m not going to like it.” I stated, not turning around. “And I’m not going to try hard, just enough to get me through.” “Understood.” Without turning around, I could tell he was smiling. A while ago, I learned that both frowning and smiling used a lot of facial muscles, so I stopped doing both. No use in wasting energy over something so trivial. Turning around, I faced him, and took the pamphlet. Walking out the room, I began to think of my actions and words towards him. It’s not that I didn’t like him as a person, it’s his profession that bugs me, and the role it’s had in my last year. He’s tried to be a father figure in my life, since that too had disappeared, but I don’t need that. I honestly liked having no authority in my life. Its not that I would abuse that, like any normal kid would, I just like to know that no one expects anything good to come out of me, which was the same opinion I had. It’s odd though, that he thinks that I could do this. Of course I could, but until he talked to me, I had no reason to. What that was, was a way to waste time over something worth very little to me. As I’m walking to the front of the school, leaving this school for the last time, I started pondering whether he was or wasn’t right. As the limousine pulled up, the option that he was right was outweighing the other. Getting in, I remembered the absence of utensils for the stew. “I know,” He said, looking at me through the mirror, “I’m terribly sorry for the lunch.” “At least you acknowledged your mistake.” I replied. He looked back at me with a quizzical face. “Did you have a good day young master?” He inquired. “Possibly.” I stated, “It depends.” “On what?” “What is your quirk Akko?” I leaned back with my arms behind my head on the leather interior. “S.O.S.” He replied, “I have the ability to know if someone needs my assistance in something, and what they need. I can hear peoples calls about 400 meters away.” “Did that influence you into this job?” I asked. “Yes and no. I wanted to be a rescue hero when I was around your age. But my father worked under your late-grandfather, and when he realized I had this quirk, he bribed my father who also worked for him, who in turn pressured me into this job.” “Why didn’t you become a hero later on?” “Because I began to like this job. It may just be me, but when someone depends on you for your quirk, no matter what profession you have, it makes you feel like a hero. It’s silly, but when your father alerts me he needs coffee, or you need dinner served, that’s what makes me feel needed.” With that, I looked out the window, thinking. What makes me feel wanted? Or maybe, what made me feel wanted? “Why do you ask?” He said after a few minutes of silent driving. “If you could go back, before you were recruited into this, would you choose the hero path? Or would you do what your father wanted and live this life?” “Depends. If I had no knowledge of this future, I would try and become a hero in an instant. But if I knew that I would live this life, I don’t know.” Looking back at me, he narrowed his eyes at me. “Why do you ask, young master?” He asked, as we pulled up to the garage. Stepping out, I took a breath of fresh air, and looked out across the city. “I choose the path, not laid out by our fathers.” I looked down at the pamphlet, and the big UA letters stared back boldly.

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