My Hero Academia: The Promises We Make

Chapter 2: The Right Question

The fire crackled slightly as I poked it to keep it alive.

"Can I put it on now?" Clay's voice was filled with anticipation and excitement. I never let her get too close to the fire as a general principle, but it was the least I could do for scaring her earlier.

"Not yet, it's not quite hot enough."

I prodded the fire once more and watched as the sparks erupted from the dancing flame. The old, abandoned house wasn't much, but it kept the rain off our heads and with the fireplace going in the winter it wasn't too cold.

Anyway, it was preferable to the cold that existed in that house. The one run by Satan's lapdog.

Her shrill voice echoed in my head.

"Connor!" Her shoes smacked down the wooden hallway.

I jumped into action, ushering Clayra into the storage chest that sat at the end of my bed. She was growing fast, and I worried that maybe the box was beginning to be too small for her, but she didn't complain. I was grateful for that at least. Quietly and quickly she scrunched herself up into the box with only two blankets for padding. I shut the box a mere two seconds before the clack of shoes echoed around the corner through the doorway.

She towered over me, her eyes a burning red, and her whisps of gray hair seeming to be just as jagged as and sharp as her tongue. Twisting at unnatural angles, Medusa's snakes.

"You useless boy!" There was a distinct smack that echoed across the small room, which was followed quickly by a stinging on my cheek. "How many times do I have to tell you to clean up after yourself!" She threw a white sock onto the floor. "I mean, how hard is it really? I was kind enough to take you and that dimwitted sister of yours into this house, and all I ask for is a little bit of organization and cleanliness." I bit the inside of my cheek, every muscle in my body tensing against her words.

"Aren't you even going to say anything?" Her shrill voice was etched with expectation and frustration. "Don't you think you owe me an apology?"

I clenched my fist so hard I could almost feel my fingers digging into the skin of my palm.

"I'm sorry." The words came out low, and I did everything I could but utterly failed at keeping them from oozing disdain.

She clicked her tongue. "Ungrateful trash. I'll have you go without dinner and then we'll see how sorry you are."

The door to the little room slammed, and I heard a faint click as it locked behind her. Unclenching my fists, I went to pick up the white sock from the floor and watched in utter hatred as it lengthened in my hands, obviously two times too big.

I forced each muscle in my back to relax as I pushed the memory from my brain.

"Okay, I think it's ready." I prodded the fire once more and then left the metal rod next to the peeling border of the hearth.

"Yay!" She rushed to my side with a little pot of rice and vegetables mixed with small amounts of fish.

"Be really careful, alright?" She smiled widely before carefully slipping the pot onto the grating I had placed over the fire. When she had secured it safely, she backed off her eyes waiting for my approval.

"That's good!" I encouraged her, offering up a smile in return. She beamed.

"See, I told you I could do it! I told you I could be helpful!"

I chuckled. She was more helpful than even she knew. Without her, I'm not sure I would've been strong enough to make it this far.

A deep gurgling voice echoed from behind me. "Ah, what a lean meal." I jumped at the unfamiliar voice, my first instinct to reach for the fire poker.

I turned around, facing a man, my new weapon in hand. Clayra ducked behind me. On a few occasions thieves had come knocking on the old abandoned house, but they usually left once they saw us. Just a couple of roughed up kids with nothing valuable.

The man who stood before me now was nothing like those other types though.

"Please, please, there's no need for that." The man straightened the cuff of his suit, and eyeing it I couldn't help but think that every part of him looked...expensive.

To the pitch black fedora he wore over his pitch black hair, to the shine of his shoes. But there were two things that contrasted his business-like appearance. A deep scar over his cheek, and blank white eyes.

"What do you want?" I raised the metal poker up slightly to reinforce my question.

There was a deep grovely chuckle that crept across the distance from the man to the two of us.

"Now that isn't really the question now is it?"

I squinted at him skeptically. He started pacing back and forth slowly, the firelight casting a dancing shadow across the rotting wooden floor. Truthfully though, it almost seemed as if the shadow was dancing all on its own, mockingly.

"No. You see a better question would actually be, what do you want." The man stopped his stride, and cocked his head slightly toward us.

"What we want is to be left alone." I felt Clayra grip my shirt, her fear echoing through my bones with just that one simple movement.

The man brought a hand to his face and fell silent for a moment.

"Fine. If that truly is what you want, then I will leave you in peace."

"It is."

The man smiled slightly, finding almost a distinct pride in my hastiness. "Alright." He turned to leave, but just before he left the entrance to the living room, the last bit of firelight barely reaching his features, he turned with only his blank eyes visible in the darkness. "But if what you truly want is answers, Connor and Clayra Kulano."

I tensed as he spoke our names. Who was he?

"Answers about what the future may hold for you. And answers about the true nature of your father's death."

Dad? What did this have to do with him? Who was this man? I tightened my grip on the poker.

"Then meet me in the alley by the convenience store tomorrow at noon. I think you know the one." Even with the shadow clouding his face I could still see his sickening grin. But before I could pester him with any questions, yell at him for knowing our names or invoking the name of our father, he was gone. Melted with shadow.

I stared into the darkness, the house creaking with every gust of wind, and Clayra still fidgeting against the back of my shirt, and I couldn't help but ponder the answers to questions I didn't know I had.