Why couldn’t you be normal? Everyone looked normal—some looked like you.

Animalistic features. Abnormal behaviors. That didn’t align with Hero Society. You couldn’t pass the sidewalk without grown adults staring at you, like you were a stray animal needing to be chased away.

You were born, to be judged.

It was hard to walk with the constant judging eyes of strangers, but harder to attend school.

Middle Schoolers were menaces.

. . .

You placed your back against the wall, away from everyone—you were practically invisible from the darkness. No one came into this area, who would? It was quiet, except for the humming of an old AC above your head, and no window. It was like a haunted spirit resting place in a typical thriller show.

It was lunch.

You ate your plain Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich, your snout getting breadcrumbs. Before, your large ears on your scraggly hair picked up a sound—footsteeps. It was light, but close.

You turn, fearing the worst.

However, rather than an ignorant bully. It was a short-haired girl. Her short brown hair is shining in the light behind her, almost angelic. Her uniform matched yours, though slightly wrinkled.

“There you are, I guess the second try was a charm!” She cheerfully smiled, tilting her towards you—fully viewing her body. Her hands were behind her back, her tilted head, her warm smile that reached her brown eyes. She didn't have a lunch pack on her.

You knew her, well—overheard her. You didn't mean to overhear, but you couldn't control what your ears picked up. She came from a poor financial background, but still smiles like she wasn't struggling with her issues.

Your ears twitched. You didn't hear anything malicious or unforgiving. You didn't see how she’ll ever be like those kids who kept taunting you, because of a quirk that you couldn't reject. You were born like this.