Aesthete

Chapter 1.

All of these thoughts brought memories I tried to ignore as my childhood attempted to rear its ugly head. Dismissing them, I went about the rest of my evening preparing to meet my new teacher, Shota Aizawa. I was told that he would arrive to the U.S and accompany me to Japan and from there, I'd be living with him until I graduated. The idea had unsettled me at first, living with a stranger in his early thirties, and a man at that. Yet, the government and Hero Commission from Japan assured that I would be residing with a great hero who would bring no harm my way. With reluctance stemming from myself and my mother, I agreed on the condition that if I felt uncomfortable, I would return home immediately. Earlier today, my two sisters reassured that I would be happy and thrive in a new country with new people, both claiming that I'd forget all about them. I knew they were lying in an attempt to soothe me as I gave them their brief goodbyes before continuing on to the rest of my training before my new teacher, pro-hero Eraserhead, arrived.

With that in mind, a deep voice brought me out of my trance.

"Hello, I'm Shota Aizawa. I am your homeroom teacher and you'll be living with me for three years. I hope we can get along, but I'll keep my distance and just help you focus on becoming a hero."

Well that was to the point, I thought in amusement, eyeing his disheveled, exhausted appearance and bags to match with the lazy, black eyes. He scanned me briefly with a relaxed expression before turning to address my mother that arrived by my side.

"I will make sure your daughter is successful at UA and protect her when it's needed. She's in good hands."

As they continued their own conversation, I eyed him, searching for deception within his words but found nothing. He seemed a relatively honest man. I came to the conclusion that he held no ill intention, the only notable thing about his demeanor was that he was weary of my presence; I could tell by the way his eyes flitted towards my face, trying to gauge how I felt. I ignored it and took in his appearance, his towering height gave him an aura of intimidation, the tied-back bun with a simple all-black outfit covered with a scarf only amplified the impression. Meanwhile, my mother ended the conversation with a nod, her eyes filled with tears as she handed Mr. Aizawa some paperwork needed for my dismissal from America. All my luggage had been gathered and sent off to his residence earlier this week so I was the only thing that needed to be taken to make my departure complete.

With that in mind, I glanced at my mother, signaling that we needed to say our goodbyes. She shuffled towards me, a resigned look adorning her face as she stared at me, lacking the coherent words to describe the fact that I was most likely never going to live under her roof as a child again. I felt my heart give the same painful tugs that it had been doing since the U.S Quirk Personnel stated my upcoming leave, but I ignored it and wrapped my arms around her small frame.

"I love you. I'm going to miss you, Mom. You know I'll be okay, and if it doesn't work out I'll come home right away. You can trust that I'll become the best hero you've seen and I'll make you proud of me." I said, listening to the way my voice cracked on the last words. This was one of the lengthiest things I've said within the past year, only choosing to express my thoughts and words with glances or small gestures. My mother never failed to understand me though, and her reply was to smoothen my hair and flash me a reassuring smile, that implied that she believed me and would place her faith in my future that strayed from my life here.

"I love you so much. Promise to text or call at least once a day or I'm kicking your ass. I'm trusting you to be okay, Florence." She too was a woman of little words, only saying what needed to be spoken aloud and leaving the rest for me to deduce on my own.

Before she could see the tears threatening to escape, I gave her a brief kiss on the forehead and walked towards Mr. Aizawa.

"Wait!" Mom's voice rang out, her hand reaching out towards me. I looked back to see her tossing a bag in the air, knowing I'd catch it.