Heroes, Vigilantes, and Villains

Chapter fourteen

"...Okay," his mother spoke, her voice cracking in what sounded like barely restrained tears, "just call us if you hear anything." There was a small beeping sound like someone hanging up the phone that followed.

"Nothing?" Another voice asked.

Tsubasa's father.

I could imagine his mother shaking her head while sitting at the kitchen table, but I didn't dare to look to see if my assumption was right.

So, they don't know anything then.

I'd been hoping that the teen was just asleep in his room, but it seems that he truly is missing.

I left the building, truly heading home for the night as the sun was due to come up soon.

"We'll find him," Tsubasa's father spoke reassuringly to his wife, the words floated into my ears just before I moved out of earshot of the conversation.

He didn't sound very convinced.

—-

Eri hummed lightly as I did my best attempt at braiding the young girl's light blue hair, failing miserably as I didn't have any of my own long enough to have practiced on before.

"How was your day today?" I asked her lightly, separating the girl's hair into two halves, tieing a light pink ponytail around the left half while I went to work on braiding the right.

"Good," the child said, true emotion seeping into her tone. "The doctor said that I might be able to leave here soon."

"Really?" I asked, a healthy amount of surprise taking over my normally monotone voice.

Eri had been in here for close to six months, long enough for most children with quirks to get some type of grip on their powers, enough that they didn't accidentally activate when the child didn't want them to. But the kids in this facility had temperamental quirks that made finding that control so much harder for them. I really was surprised that Eri could find her balance so soon, but felt a small burst of pride take over me nonetheless.

She hummed softly, nodding her head lightly so as to not mess me up.

"That's great," I told her earnestly.

And it was.

Mom and I had already painted the spare room a bright yellow color, buying the needed furniture whenever we came across some on sale. There was even a small collection of stuffed animals taking over what would become the girl's bed when she finally came to claim it. For all intents and purposes, we were ready for her to come with us.

To come home.

I switched to the other side, listening to the little girl telling me about the children's story that she read almost completely on her own today before I had to get home as closing hours had come about ten minutes ago and the nurses were getting antsy.

Getting up from the bed, I turned around to tuck the girl in, but a small hand gripping my sleeve with as much strength as they had was faster.

I looked at the small girl, sinking back down onto the bed slowly as I took in the serious look in the child's eyes.

"Izuku," she said carefully, all joy gone from the child-like voice from earlier, "are my scars bad?"

I pulled my legs onto the bed, facing the small girl completely. She looked sad as she stared down at her covered arms, her finger subconsciously picking at the sleeve. She was wearing the long sleeve night dress that we'd gotten her when we'd gone shopping, the note that she'd been so proud to pick out herself like all her other clothes.