Jun 1, 2023 5:23:28 GMT
Post by Miroru on Jun 1, 2023 5:23:28 GMT
Rokuhane Miroru
Department of Heroes Freshman
Prism, the Spectrum Hero
@haru | ### | notes
Idiots.
Miroru sat in the common room of the dormitories after orientation, slumped in the corner of one of the couches. The television was on, set to some vapid talk show discussing the most famous and popular heroes of the day and showcasing their sound bites and video clips. Mindless noise. Something- anything- for her brain to fixate on besides what she'd seen at the assembly.
The sound of those sniggering bastards ridiculing that gray-haired girl- Hert, was it?- for asking a simple and reasonable question. So that despicable rot festered here, too. The arrogant division of the powerful and the "weak." That putrid presumption that without the "right" Quirk, you were lesser. Doomed to inferiority or helplessness.
Miroru had faced that attitude often enough at the hands of her brothers, her father. It was almost worse that she was... so close to being acceptable. Her quirk wasn't worthless- not by a long shot, it had tons of utility and in the right circumstances could be a powerhouse in and of itself... but it wasn't enough. A fairweather failure, they called her. Without the sun's cooperation, she might as well just be a dispatcher or a VFX artist. Not a hero. Just...
An extra.
A whiff of honey pulled her attention up and over her shoulder. Over the back of the couch. She sat up and looked.
Nothing.
Nobody.
She frowned quietly. The fragrance was gone. Had it ever been there? No. Maybe not. She could have imagined it.
It was all too much.
The redhead got up and walked outside, shutting off the television with a copycat burst of infrared remote data. She needed to clear her head.
Miroru sat in the common room of the dormitories after orientation, slumped in the corner of one of the couches. The television was on, set to some vapid talk show discussing the most famous and popular heroes of the day and showcasing their sound bites and video clips. Mindless noise. Something- anything- for her brain to fixate on besides what she'd seen at the assembly.
The sound of those sniggering bastards ridiculing that gray-haired girl- Hert, was it?- for asking a simple and reasonable question. So that despicable rot festered here, too. The arrogant division of the powerful and the "weak." That putrid presumption that without the "right" Quirk, you were lesser. Doomed to inferiority or helplessness.
Miroru had faced that attitude often enough at the hands of her brothers, her father. It was almost worse that she was... so close to being acceptable. Her quirk wasn't worthless- not by a long shot, it had tons of utility and in the right circumstances could be a powerhouse in and of itself... but it wasn't enough. A fairweather failure, they called her. Without the sun's cooperation, she might as well just be a dispatcher or a VFX artist. Not a hero. Just...
An extra.
~
A whiff of honey pulled her attention up and over her shoulder. Over the back of the couch. She sat up and looked.
Nothing.
Nobody.
She frowned quietly. The fragrance was gone. Had it ever been there? No. Maybe not. She could have imagined it.
It was all too much.
The redhead got up and walked outside, shutting off the television with a copycat burst of infrared remote data. She needed to clear her head.
I can pay no price too great for justice.
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