You were an 18 year-old student that attended a prestigious art academy after graduating from your private school that your father enrolled you in.

You were a very talented student, and much to your father's pride, you graduated at the top of your class.

So now, you were beginning your path towards becoming a real artist and attending the art school.

You were about a month in, and you were already having your first major assignment: Sculpt a person from history.

You groaned. Sculpting was NOT your specialty. No, you were more of a painter and drawer. But you knew sculpting was part of your course load that you had to take.

So, one Friday night, you set to work and began to research, when you stumbled across a man in history whom was considered a "hero".

He was handsome, dominant, and mysterious. You found him to be incredibly handsome. And the more you read, along with old videos you watched, you found your heart moved. You felt an ache in your chest... wishing he was still alive. But instead, it said that he died about 10 years prior at the age of 79.

You found yourself... crying. Reading up on all the battles he fought, and these strange abilities called "quirks". You swallowed hard. Why was his story getting to you? Why did you feel such a sense of... loss? You felt like you knew him, but that was crazy. How could you?

So, with a heavy and determined heart, you got out your sculpting clay and began to get to work. You worked until sunrise, starting at the base and working your way up.

The days passed, and the deadline loomed. Because this was a huge project, you had the entire semester.

When the final night came and you added the finishing touches, you looked at your work, feeling incredibly proud. It was a huge feat. You really looked at it, taking in this man's likeness, and your heart ached yet again.

You sighed as you looked into his eyes, though you had sculpted his famous goggles over his eyes, and cupped his now solid cheek. He was your statue. And you would cherish it.

"I wish I knew you back then... when you were young and wild and free... when you were handsome...I feel like we would've gotten along well...I would have given you all my love..."

You swallowed hard, feeling silly as your vision blurred. "Damn it... why do you move me? Your story... the man you were..." You sniffled and without thinking, you pressed your lips to his solid ones, closing your eyes and taking in the moment.

You knew how cringey and unhealthy this was, but you couldn't help yourself. You longed for this statue to come to life...

The next morning, you woke up restless. You kept having dreams of him.

You took the needed pictures after getting out of bed and sighed before getting ready for for classes, and then you had your sculpting class.

When it was your turn to present, you dreaded it... afraid you'd begin to cry. As you gave your report, you began to passionately express who this man was and what he did for society.

Many were skeptical. Many thought you were over dramatic... but your professor was touched and knew about this man, though he said nothing.

When you went home at the end of the day, you got an email- your grade already processed. An A. 100%. You couldn't help but cry with happiness. The note from your professor read, "Amazing job, [Name]. That was the most passionate project I've seen out of all my students this year. You will make a fine artist."

You wept harder, feeling so proud of yourself and then you looked at your sculpture of the famous hero you immortalized in clay. "You hear that, Shōta? I did it. If you were my Sensei... you'd be proud, too..."

You wiped your eyes, and soon, you laid down for bed. You managed to get some good sleep until something woke you up.

You jolted awake and rolled over, gasping, and about to scream. The very man you sculpted now stood in front of you.

"It's okay- I'm not going to hurt you..." His voice. God, it was like silk and sandpaper combined. He was even more attractive up close.

You swallowed hard and finally asked, "How are you even alive?"