[attr="class","castleonthehill"]In a world full of supernatural gifts, only a select few were granted the opportunity to realize the scenery their quirks could show them. Those who could traverse the depths of the ocean, those who could see firsthand the Earth's magma, those who could dwell in the frigid Arctic without as much as even a coat — unique to each were realms waiting to be embraced as their own.

But there, beyond the bestowed, lay a spectacle further honed by specificity; for, ahead of each individual's abilities, there stirred a passion more indicative of belonging than natural aptitude. What may seem to be clear compatibility — the sea-dwellers and the waves, the fire borne and the torrid, the unfreezing and the icebergs — was no more than theoretical play. Without the passion to match, there dwelt no opportunity to indulge in one's perspective any more than mundanity.

Leaving home was never an easy choice. To trek out into the world beyond the familiar, where there waited no guarantee of welcoming arms, would be difficult for any; for the vigilante, in specific, the shift in cultural familiarities was a burden she'd yet overcome. The boisterous crowds and amenable locals were all she'd known, and the silent air of "obedience" that hung over Japan stabbed at her lungs every time she breathed it in. It was a frigid, unforgiving poison, one uninterested in the wellbeing of those it tainted; like a plague, it stole the lives of whatever it touched. It stole the individuality away from those it infected.

The vigilante couldn't bear it. But, despite her misgivings, there shown before her was the result of such a machine-like philosophy: sprawled out before her, illuminated in the efforts of those long forgotten, was a metropolis that never truly fell asleep, basking the populace in its neon colors and modernistic appeal. Though she'd known a similar scene of a city that never rested — she was from Buenos Aires, after all — the air between the two differed; she would call hers an intoxicating aroma, like a well-done steak, meant to be shared with even the strangers by your side.

As she sat there along the ledge, with her legs left out over the city, she couldn't help but ponder her own scenery. Through her own backward methodology, the skies had become a place just as accessible to her as the earth was, thus granting her the space to explore further beyond most others. She still didn't understand, though. What was with this country — this planet, even — and their obsessive glorification of heroes? Was it a lack of ability that led to the notion? Did they latch onto their idols because they couldn't grasp such peaks themselves?

But even more so than others, the vigilante confounded herself. Her presence in Japan had been born of curiosity, a desire to witness the ramifications of hero society in the flesh — but to travel half the globe for that end? It seemed excessive, even to her, but the interest wasn't one to be silent. She'd argue the instinct to be more troublesome than her quirk.

"Sure talkin' a lotta shit 'bout the one who saved yer ass."

The vigilante's attire, though mostly intact, was ripped and marred at various points; a few loose wires hung from her cloak, and even the shifting of its nanomachines could be seen in particular spots. Tonight had proven its troublesome worth to her, but she supposed it wasn't the worst of her encounters.

"Sorry, Pundit." Adjusting the collar of her cloak, the Argentine continued to look down at the city beneath her. "I ju't can't fi'ure it out."

"Why people like heroes so much," the quirk responded, "or why yer so turned tryin' to figure it out?" Pundit, who sat at the vigilante's side, held little more answers than she did. Though all of her thoughts were known to the creature, it wasn't gifted the additional insight into the nature of such ideas; if anything, it had even less to go off of than its own arbitrary judgment.

"Both." Neither question held a decisive answer. Though she could postulate endlessly on the case of the former, the latter regard for herself remained too obscured to remedy. "I thought being here for a few shears would give me a defi'itive answer, but it's all so subjective to everyone."

"Can't 'splain the subjectivity for each person and get it to mean anythin' for the whole, eh?"

"Mm."