Me? Posting actual Hoshizawa lore and not being completely ominous? more likely than you'd think.
word count: 634
warnings: bullying
part: 1/4
characters: Hoshizawa, Guren
pt 2
The kids didn't like Hoshizawa. They really didn't like him. At all. As... asshole middle schoolers can go, unfortunately. They see some kid who doesn't fit the norm. He looks a bit funny, the way he acts, the way he walks, the way he talks. Everything about this kid was just a red target for attracting the grueling harassment in that school.
Everyone knew his quirk by then too. They were all too familiar. The kid that could still barely even control his own stupid quirk. He'd just fall through the school doors every morning or blind them all during class. At least he'd been suspended for it a few times. He didn't have many friends, most of everyone who cared enough to actually talk to him would be weirded out eventually, and many would just tease him or be mean.
Through it all though, he could usually keep a smile.
He had a couple of friends, at least. Guren, and Ayaka. Of course they knew what was happening. They knew of his situation and tried to do their best to make life at least a little better. They all made their silly little worlds with silly little dragons. They pretended to be dragons and play outside and other little kid things. And it worked. They were his respite, and of course, even being as young as a new middle schooler, a little distance from parents with growing independence was customary.
He'd walk to and from school with them sometimes. Ayaka lived nearby, and Guren was just on the way. They'd help him get around in any way, but he learned to manage his side affects quite well even without peer support. He was eventually very confident in his abilities to get around, and would try to impress them by going further and further just on his own. And eventually, this culminated into walking home all alone.
The first time went fine. He'd walked these roads plenty of times before, only this time now alone. It was a cold and calm day, the coldest months yet to come. He came to his parents that day gleaming with excitement "Mama Mama! I did it myself!" She was proudest of course, though felt it was a story best saved from his father.
The second time was not long after. The day was much colder, and quite a bit wetter. It gave him a headache. But even with the hefty drizzle, he soldiered on proudly. He had this. "Mama Mama!! I'm home! I walked home all by myself!!" More praise. She was so proud of him.
The third day followed the second in suit. The pavement was wet -- slightly slippery and littered with the leaves of prior rains. The moisture hung in the air, he could smell it. And yet again: "Mama! Mama! I'm back home!!" The confidence was a drug. He was doing so well. He was doing it himself, all on his own. People were proud of him, and that was his addiction.
Soon enough, the fourth day, fifth day, sixth days. The fourth came with warmth, the sun warmed his trademark jacket making him feel hot inside. But he's only take it off to wear as a cape instead. Just like in his favorite show. Another call rang through the door -- "Mama! I'm back!!" The fifth was warm as the last, a pleasantness matched well by the sixth day. "Mama! I'm home!!" Nothing could go wrong.
By the seventh, he was fully confident in his skills. The praise only somewhat began to grow mundane again, just as much so as the actual walk home. He could do it now, what was so special?
But that seventh day was quite special. Why, he didn't come back home that seventh day.