Muted Voices (A BNHA/MHA x OC Fanfic)

Chapter 2: Life With Grandma

I was sent to live with my grandmother after the accident. I went to a different school where nobody except the adults knew what I had done. Everyone else just knew me as the silent girl with the curly red hair. Grandma and I taught ourselves sign language as well as my teacher. He only knew enough to understand when I was asking to go to the bathroom, but that was enough. Anything else, I could just write. I fell into such a depression that I barely did anything anymore. I was like a ghost. I would wake up, go to school, come home, and sleep, with the occasional meal thrown in there. I even quit dance which I had grown to love so much.

One night in fourth grade, I woke up from yet another nightmare about my parents to see a dark silhouette sitting on the edge of my bed. I scrambled up and turned on the light to see my grandma sitting there. I sighed with relief, but my heart was still racing.

"Sorry if I woke you," she said softly. "I just heard my daughter's voice."

I was confused. Mom was here?!? She was alive! I looked around but couldn't see her.

"What do you mean?" I signed. "She's not here."

"No, I suppose not. You were using your quirk in your sleep. You had her talking to you. Is that what she said after you broke that girl's arm? That you were bound to be a villain if you used your quirk like that?"

I shook my head. That was something my mind has come up with just to torture me.

"Ah, a nightmare. I see. You know I miss my daughter's voice every day? I'm sure you feel the same way, but I see her when I look at you. Your eyes, your hair. Though I have to say you take after me more in the hair department," she said, scooting up to lay next to me. "My hair was as red as yours back in my day. And look, still as curly." She ruffled a hand through her hair. The tight curls returned to their spot as she removed her hand.

"Did I ever tell you that I was the one who helped your mother learn Japanese?" She asked in said language. I was impressed to say the least.

"I have to say you picked up on sign language faster than she did with Japanese. I know you've been learning Japanese sign language too. You should know how proud I am of you. It took many long nights of your mother being frustrated but refusing to give up. It might've felt rough at that time, but those were always good memories." There was a moment of silence as I processed her words.

"I know you don't really use your quirk anymore, at least not intentionally, but I would really like to hear my daughter's voice again." I didn't even realize I was crying until she wiped a finger across my cheek.

This isn't for me, I told myself. This is for Grandma. I'm not trying to use the vibrations. I can just use it to talk.

So I took a deep breath and concentrated. Her voice filled my mind and I let the sound sit at the very center of the room. "Long ago, there was a kingdom called Arendelle. The king and queen had two lovely daughters. The oldest was born with ice powers. The younger..."

And so I continued until the "happily ever after." Grandma wiped the tears from her eyes as I did the same. It was so long that I had heard her voice and it wasn't yelling at me that I was some monster or villain.
I couldn't help but feel like Elsa in that moment. I knew what it was like to hurt someone. But I just didn't understand how she could so easily just free herself from that guilt and embrace her power. Anna came back to life, but my parents are still dead. That might be the difference. Though maybe I could just use my power to do this. Remember my mother and all the good memories I had with her. It didn't seem impossible. But I convinced myself to keep it a secret. I only used my quirk to speak when I was alone in my room again. I was curious about what other sounds I could have it make, so I started playing music. It seemed to be the only thing that could calm me down when I was having panic attacks and flashbacks. I had listened to those Disney songs so many times that I knew every one by heart and could flawlessly replicate them. It made me feel a little better, knowing not everything I did would hurt someone.