My Angel

The Weight of Their Uniform

 Angel... A Quirk that has been around for decades now. For so long, our family inherited it, passing it from one generation to another. Following the teaching of our family, with our Quirk came the responsibility of truly upholding its name. Angels were for so long viewed as the messengers of god, who brought change and prosperity with them. And picking that name for our Quirk meant to stay true to it.

Our family had done social services for generations on end. It was their duty to look after people in need and help those who were suffering, though strangely enough, none of my ancestors had chosen the path of a Hero, all of whom chose another approach.

Now according to the notebook my Grandma lent me, our Quirk didn't start quite as Angel as we know it now. Rather, as a very rare and ambiguous Quirk that was called DNA Writer. It apparently allowed one to manipulate their, or anyone's else genes, at will. So far, so little was known about how it all started or why it even happened, but our very first ancestor, the very first Angel I daresay, had seen it fit to erase his Quirk. He had tinkered with his own genes, changed his appearance and even his Quirk, and made sure DNA Writer was never activated again. So, his original Quirk was forever lost and not to be retrieved. His new Quirk Angel however, which he created from overwriting so many Quirks into one, he made it dominant so for centuries to come, his flesh and blood carried it for long, along with his legacy of helping others in ways which didn't involve fighting. Sora posed, inspecting what she had written so far with her pencil pressed to her chin.

" Grandma had given me this notebook which she said was the diary kept by all of our ancestors to keep track of our Quirk. Even she and Dad had written down things here," she said skimming across the pages. " And I'm required to write in it too." With a heavy sigh, she laid her head down on her table, her eyes fixated on the small square of night sky visible through her balcony door. She again flipped the pages of the diary until she hit a certain one.

" Hardening," she read aloud. " One of the attributes of our Quirk that had been discovered years ago, it allows feathers to gain strength, solidifying and enabling them to act as sharp weapons. That's what happened down at the Studio," she murmured, her face sticking to the table before closing the notebook.

So far, there have been many interesting attributes other than the ones she already knew of. But apparently, all of them required reaching a certain threshold to be able to unlock them. And there was no telling if all attributes mentioned there would even manifest in one person. " What a hassle," she said pushing herself from the wooden surface and turning the pages till she had reached the very beginning of the diary.

There, she could see the remains of pages that had been forcefully ripped off. She ran her finger on the cut papers as though hoping she could somehow magically figure out what had been written on them.

However, considering their position at the very beginning, she thought they must have belonged to their very first ancestor, her great-great-great-grandfather, or something of that kind.

" Either way," she said hastily pushing the diary out of her sight now and pulling her phone, checking the date. " Our provisional license exam is approaching rather quickly and I have yet to control the hardening of my feathers. Not to mention..." She sulked just remembering the number of times she faked not being well so she just could have a break to escape having to transform in their training session.

" I just wish this old thing could have given me advice on how to control my transformation," she grumbled glaring back at the notebook as if trying to set it on fire. But there was no use getting angry at a piece of paper. " Might as well do as Grandma suggested and practice some meditation. "

So far, managing her feelings has helped her slow the process of the transformation, just like when she learned to control her fear with Endeavor. So meditation turned out as a good starting point for her. The longer she kept calm, the less she had to worry about her being identified as a villain on the battlefield.