AN: Heyo. idk if you are here from my other fic or new in these parts and just want to read some My Hero Academia fics but hello! Welcome to where I spill ideas onto digital paper and hope people like it!

Also I am working on My Name is Cassian, and the next chapter is almost done but...writers block. Working through it by writing this (and a few other things ;3) and I'll get there eventually. Hopefully soon!

The dialogue and situations in this fic are gonna be a mix of sub and dub anime, manga (sometimes...oddly translated,) and og writing, all depending on many things. Including, but not limited to, how I'm feeling, how much I like the dialogue (I love the English insults from Bakugo...icy hot…pure gold...) and what I have access to when I'm writing.

Last note: trigger warning for vague allusions to sexual assault...for the rest of the fic too. I'll let you know when exactly throughout but just know it isn't just this chapter. It's never explicit or detailed but it's there.

Prologue

It all began in China, in Qingping City.

There was news that a baby that gave off light was born.

Ever since then, superpowers were discovered in various places and time passed without the cause being identified. Before we knew it, the supernatural became normal, and dreams become reality. The world has become a superhuman society, and about 80% of the world's population now has some kind of special trait. In this world swirling with chaos, the profession that everyone once dreamed about and admired came into the limelight. That profession is…

Heroes.

Along with the superpowers came an explosive increase in crime. As the country was stuck in the slow progress of drastice law reforms, courageous people started performing heroic acts from out of comic books; guarding against superpowers and defending against evil. Heros were soon accepted by the public, and it was established as an official position. Based on their performance, they were paid by the government and gained renown among the masses.

But the little girl knew nothing of this; she knew nothing of the glamor or the fame. She knew nothing of the balance of power and the struggle to maintain it. She knew nothing of laws and regulations.

She knew nothing of hero work.

She just knew she was angry and afraid and that this person was responsible. He was responsible for the pain in her knuckles and the sweat across her brow. He was responsible for rage in her veins and the crying girl against the wall behind her; the new tear in her already tattered dress was his fault as well and she hated it. The man hung limp from her small hand, bleeding and broken...but she just kept swinging.

It was his fault.

Why couldn't they leave her alone? She just wanted to be alone.

She had walked through an alleyway, to avoid the many crowds out that night, as she did many times, when she saw him. She didn't know what he was doing but she knew the girl didn't like it. She should have turned around at that moment but when she heard the screams, all thought ceased. Before she knew what she was doing, a rock was in her hand and she threw it at his head, pulling his attention to her.

He turned to her, blood dripping from where she had hit him, just above the temple.

"You want a go instead, little girl?"

She didn't like his voice; he sounded like all the other people who had tried to touch her, who spoke grating words as their hand grabbed at her. She had stopped them; fists and feet and teeth sent them running...crawling...flying...away from her was all that mattered. She stopped him, too, and yet she couldn't stop herself.

But then the air throbbed and with it her strength ebbed.

The man was not moving.

Her mind became her own again, her vision flashing red and blue. Hands grabbed the man and pulled him from her grasp as more guided her away. She fought them–they were just more hands trying to take her, to hurt her–but her strength never returned.

She was weak.

"Why did you kill that man?"

The little girl, no more that four years old, looked at the man crouching in front of her; a lanky man wearing all black with a scarf covering the lower half of his face. Long black hair, which was partially pushed back by a pair of yellow goggles, hung in his face, close to his half lidded, bloodshot eyes...he looked tired.

She was all of 3 ft tall, if that, tiny in comparison to the man. It was impossible to tell the color of her hair; between the flashing red and blue lights and the dingy state it was in, it could have been any light color. Her eyes almost took up half her face; dark voids that seemed black in the low, chaotic light.

The man had the entire attention of those eyes.

"Kill?" Her voice was oddly serene in contrast with the bloodbath behind her, "he tried to hurt her," she pointed to a small crying figure hiding against the wall, "tried to hurt her and me and I stopped him. Is that killing?"

The question was an innocent one; not a single hint of malice or misdirection. The man tried to place a hand on her small shoulder but she flinched away and he didn't try again.

"You stopped him hurting anyone for good, you also stopped him from being alive and you can't do that. That's killing."

"Why?" she shrunk away from him, as if she thought he was going to hurt her, "He's not hurting anyone anymore."

"There are rules. Killing people is wrong. Now, how did you do it?"

"I...I don't know. Mama never came home and there were scary people at the door, shouting. I ran."

The man held back a sigh; it would seem he needed to hear the why before the how; he did ask for it first, so he couldn't be too annoyed...hopefully it wouldn't be too rambling of a story.

"How long ago was this?"

"A...a few weeks?"

The man blinked, silently horrified. This little girl had been on her own in the middle of this crime ridden part of town for weeks?!

"Mama taught me to trust no one," the little girl's dark eyes shadowed further, "so I didn't know where to go. Some people tried to grab me. I stopped them...did I kill them, too?" She now looked terrified, the first true expression the man had seen from her, "I didn't know! I...I was angry and couldn't stop. I'm sorry!"

He sighed.

The power he stopped was definitely a Quirk and, going off of her story, used in self defense, but it was so potent and uncontrolled, even for a new Quirk. Unless they found a way to control it until she could do it herself, she would be put away, somewhere she couldn't hurt people everytime she got angry.

Taking a moment to look at the crime scene-the dead man, the blood, and the now bawling girl talking to one of the police officers-the man knew she had done the right thing, even if she needed control; she had a sense of justice, the rights and wrongs were just a bit blurred, and she seemed genuinely remorseful and scared.

"Should we take her downtown for questioning?" asked a random police officer.

Down to the police station...where she would be questioned, registered, and lost in the system.

She was so young and he knew of only one way to stop her Quirk at the moment...

The man hoped he wouldn't regret the next words from his mouth. "No. She needs rest; she can stay at my house and come in tomorrow."

"But she killed-"

"She saved that other girl." He turned to glare at the officer, "Whatever else she may have done, it was in self defense and in defense of another. She isn't a villain."

The officer seemed unnerved by having the full attention of an annoyed, albeit sleep deprived, hero-even more so the dark eyes of the dishevelled and bloody girl behind him-and just sighed, "...very well. We expect her in early tomorrow morning."

"I'll see to it."

The officer wandered away with a muttered, "damn heros…" as the man turned back to the girl. She looked confused and still scared.

"I'm going with you?"

"Yes."

"How do I know you're not like him?"

He pulls out a card, a license, "I'm a hero, see?"

She snatches the card before he could do anything–even without her Quirk, she was fast–and held it close to her face, eyes taking in every detail.

"That up to your standards?" he let a small smile pull at his lips.

She didn't look up from the card, "Mama doesn't like heros…" The man's smile fell, but the girl soldiered on, not noticing, looking up at him with determination. "But I don't like Mama. Where are we going?"

"My home."

The little girl hesitantly took his hand as they walked to where they could catch a cab; he had roamed over here on patrol and he wasn't about to make a little girl walk all the way home. He managed to snag a blanket from a passing EMT, placing it over her shoulders.

"What's your name?" her quiet voice asked.

"Eraser Head." was his immediate response, used to questions like this during hero work, but he knew it wasn't the right answer.

The girl huffed, "No, your real name!"

"Aizawa Shota. What's yours?"

"Akami."

An: so this will be a Bakugo/oc fic.

A little note on honorifics: haven't used them yet but probably wont much. Probably only in nicknames (adding -chan or -kun) and even then only a few.

Hey people who might know more than me! When writing about Japan in a novel (like I am attempting to do, in fic form) do you refer to people by their first name as a narrator and then characters use their last names (unless they have a nickname or some shit)?

Like would I, the narrator, call Izuku Izuku and everyone calls him Midoriya? Or would that just get confusing?

Help a friend out and dm me if you have the answer!