1 Best Friends

[A/N: This chapter is for the sole purpose of testing how people like this idea, Please comment and tell me if the story sounds interesting. Don't expect another chapter, simply testing the waters.]

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The sun hung high in the sky, blanketing the neighborhood playground in a warm, golden glow. The air resonated with the joyous laughter of children as they swung on swings, clambered up jungle gyms, and enthusiastically kicked soccer balls.

In this lively scene, one peculiar figure stood out—not a girl in the traditional sense, but rather a pair of school uniforms suspended in the air. This ethereal presence bore the name of Hagakure Toru, whose quirk was known as Invisibility, a unique mutant-type quirk she had possessed from birth. This extraordinary quirk rendered Hagakure completely unseen to everyone, including herself.

Hagakure had always stood out from her classmates, not because of her personality or her bright smile—which couldn't even be seen—but because of her unseen presence. One that some made sure she wouldn't forget.

Hagakure sat on the swings, gently swaying back and forth, her hidden eyes locked onto the other children playing as a sense of loneliness pierced her heart. Beneath Hagakure's resilient facade, the challenges of being the unseen and unheard girl weighed heavily on her. After all, she was only a 7-year-old girl.

Suddenly, as Hagakure was deep in thought, a group of children, led by a boy named Suzuki Kaito, approached. Kaito was a diminutive, slender boy with ebony hair cascading over his forehead, partially covering his deep brown eyes, all against a backdrop of fair complexion. He currently wore a white shirt paired with navy blue shorts. Suzuki was also a well-known bully.

The group of children huddled together, a few meters from Hagakure as they whispered and pointed in her direction, in a clear attempt at mocking her. With a mischievous grin, Suzuki stepped forward from the group and called out to Hagakure.

"Hey, Invisible Girl!" He taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Why don't you go hide? Oh, wait, you're already hiding!" His cronies erupted in laughter, and a few kids nearby turned their attention to the unfolding spectacle.

Hagakure's face—despite being invincible—flushed pink with embarrassment as she clenched her fist. She knew the insult lacked creativity and impact, but she had hoped to find some solace and acceptance at the playground.

She mustered up her courage and replied with a shaky voice, "I-I'm not hiding, I'm right here!"

Suzuki's grin widened as he heard Hagakure's shaky voice, "Right where? I can't see you! Maybe you should just go home, it's not like anyone would even notice you're missing."

With this, the laughter grew louder, as some kids started to chant, "Invisible girl! Invisible girl!" She tried to cover her ears, however, their voices seemed to permeate through them, despite her efforts. Tears welled up in Hagakure's eyes at the onslaught of loud noises, but she struggled to keep them from falling.

Hagakure was tired—she was tired of the bullying, she was tired of crying, she was tired of trying. At that moment she wished she had never been born.

But then, a voice came from behind the bullies, cutting through the laughter and chanting like a knife. It was a voice with authority and confidence, a voice that would save Hagakure from her own despair.

"Enough."

Turning around the bullies were met with the stern gaze of an older boy, Shinkoji Isaiah. Shinkoji was an 8-year-old boy with raven-black hair framing his face, falling in silky waves that gave him an almost ethereal feel. However, his eyes were the most captivating aspect of his appearance, a deep lifeless shade of blue-black that seemed to stare at the souls of those he gazed upon. He was currently wearing a black turtleneck-like shirt and a pair of black shorts.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves," Shinkoji scolded the bullies. "Hagakure is a kind girl, and her Quirk isn't something to make fun of."

The bullies, caught off guard by Shinkoji's interference, quiet down before Suzuki took a step forward, the grin on his face slowly creeping back.

"Who do you think you are? Just mind your own business!"

A subtle frown tugged at the corners of Shinkoji's mouth. With a flick of wrist, he conjured a light construct in the shape of a hand, which quickly reached Suzuki, retraining him in place. He tried to struggle free of the light construct as he felt the grip tightening, however, it was futile as the construct remained stable.

"I said... leave," Shinkoji calmly uttered, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with Suzuki.

"Okay... okay!" Suzuki quickly stammered, his voice trembling with fear. The light construct continued to constrict around his body, intensifying the pain with each passing moment.

Just as Suzuki felt the light construct would crush him within its grasp, it suddenly dissipated. He tumbled to the ground, his body aching from the construct's tight grip. With a gasp, he scrambled to his feet and, without looking back, sprinted out of the playground. His cronies hastily followed suit, not daring to linger and risk suffering the same fate.

"You're a better actor than you're a bully…" Shinkoji murmured under his breath as he watched the retreating figures.

With the bullies dealt with, Shinkoji turned towards Hagakure, who now sat back on the swing. Her invisible form swayed gently as she still tried to back tears.

Approaching her cautiously, Shinkoji asked, "Are you okay?" His voice filled with genuine concern. Hagakure glanced up at Suzuki. She nodded silently, unable to find her voice.

"I'm not sure if you shook or nodded your head, but I'm sorry about what happened earlier."—Shinkoji took a seat on the swing next to her—"No one should be treated like that. You don't deserve it."

Hearing his words of comfort, tears welled up in Hagakure's eyes once more, but this time, they were tears of relief and gratitude. Shinkoji continued, "You're not alone in this. If… you ever need someone to talk to or if those bullies bother you again, just let me know. I'll be there for you."

Hagakure's heart swelled with emotion at Shinkoji's declaration. Ever since she was born she had been discriminated against by those of her age. This was the first time that someone other than her own parents or teachers showed her such kindness.

"Thank you, Shinkoji…" Hagakure said, a smile forming on her face.

Shinkoji smiled back, extending a hand towards her. "Call me Isaiah." Hagakure reached out, her invisible hand finding Shinkoji's as they shared a firm handshake, sealing their newfound friendship.

***

Several hours had drifted by since Isaiah and Toru had struck up their friendship, enjoying games and laughter together at the playground. However, the day's end had brought with it Toru's departure as her parents arrived to collect her.

Now, Isaiah sat in solitude, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The vibrant presence of Toru had vanished, leaving behind a palpable emptiness in the space around him.

As Isaiah's gaze fixated on the horizon a group of children, led by Suzuki, approached quietly from behind, their expression unreadable. Closer they came, drawing nearer—9 meters, 5 meters, 2 meters—until, at last, they halted just a single meter away.

"You did well," Isaiah complimented, his unwavering gaze still affixed to the distant horizon.

"T-Thank you…" Suzuki stammered out, still remembering the crushing pain he felt from earlier.

Isaiah retrieved a sleek "black card" from his pocket, and with a gentle flick of his wrist, he tossed it lightly behind him, where it landed on the ground. Suzuki quickly retrieved the card, and the group of children couldn't help but imagine the assortment of sweets and delicious treats they could purchase with it.

For the first time since the group's arrival, Isaiah turned to face them, a warm smile gracing his features. "Spend it wisely," he advised, his tone light, "And should you find yourselves in need of more, you know where to find me."

The children, momentarily taken aback by Isaiah's unexpected generosity, exchanged glances before scampering away, their curiosity piqued by his enigmatic words.

As they disappeared into the distance, Isaiah mused aloud, "Children are impressionable, easily corruptible. It's why we must start with the younger generation and work our way up." His gaze returned to the horizon, and he added softly, "Ain't it, God?"

[ You're Correct As Always, My Child ]