When we think of heroes, we think of people of character, charisma, and confidence. We look up to heroes, honor their mighty deeds, and depend upon them.
But how often do we think about what they were like before they were heroes? Do we ever consider what a hero must have been like during their angst-filled teenage years? Do we take time to remember how many times they failed in order to become successful? Well, maybe it looked something like this:
A few weeks later, Katsuki was released on parole. He had to pay the facility for housing him, the government for all their restoration and preservation projects that year, and he had to pay Sabrina the full cost of a lawyer. The first step, then, was getting a job. He would think about the debt later.
But before that, he wanted to undo some of the damage he’d done in a way that he could feel. Willow answered that need with her usual fire and speed. She still hadn’t given up on him, somehow. Now, he had a meeting with the director of the local forest management.
As Katsuki crept through the doors, he felt certain they must have made a most-wanted poster of him and displayed it somewhere in the small underfunded office. The breathing in the room had hitched at his arrival. People sat too still in their chairs. Eyes, yes, surely hostile eyes, followed his hunched shoulders and masked face down the hall. Katsuki was sweating badly, his hands shaking, and his legs felt weak, but he pushed himself forward.
You’re a hero. You don’t run just because you don’t know what’ll happen! He stopped before the second door on the left, the smell of coffee, paper, and industrial cleaners strong on the air wafting from the entrance. Katsuki listened as the man at the desk inside lifted his head, his chair creaking, then slowly set aside the papers he’d been perusing. He didn’t speak.
Katsuki locked his jaw tight and stepped into the office. He could sense through the air movements where the chair was, but he hesitated to sit without invitation. “I’m Katsuki.”
“I know who you are,” replied an even baritone with a line of metal in it. To Katsuki, it sounded like the voice of a military general. He decided to keep standing, but he moved forward to rest his hands on the chair back.
“I’m here to talk about the restoration project,” he added, trying to keep the waver out of his voice.
“I know why you’re here,” was the taciturn reply.
Katsuki grit his teeth to hold back the growl he felt rising in his chest. He took a deep breath. I expected this. I prepared for this. I can do this.
“I want to help,” he enunciated as evenly as he could, and straightened as he felt “the general’s” eyes scouring his masked features.
“What makes you think I’ll let you anywhere near my forest?” he said in challenging drawl.
Katsuki sighed, clinging to the back of the chair. “I want a chance to fix what I messed up. Clean up my own messes, you know?”
“Take off the mask,” the director commanded. Katsuki straightened again, startled.
“What? Why?”
“Do as I say, if you know what’s good for you,” the man snapped, impatient.
Katsuki stiffened, feeling heat trickle up his spine, but he kept his mouth shut. This is a test. Slowly, he reached up and removed his mask, revealing the angry red scars beneath.
The director scoffed. “You ruin your face, you ruin your life, and then you just had to ruin my nature reserve too. It will take decades to recover, and there’s a good chance the ecosystem will never be the same again. I wouldn’t have been surprised or discomforted if you’d gotten the chair for what you did.”
Katsuki grit his teeth again. The director continued, “And now you want me to put you out there? To do what? You’re blind, criminally inclined and ugly. You know nothing about nature, never mind restoration. I have no reason to waste a second or a cent on the likes of you. You’re paying for the project, so there’s no need to go mess anything else up. Go get a job and leave the mountain to me.”
Rage was pumping through Katsuki’s veins, but he held it in. Now was not the time for that. And he would not be dissuaded.
“I’m stronger than I look, fully capable of moving rocks or planting seeds, and ready to learn anything I need to.”
“Why spend the time training you, when I already have people who are fully trained and twice as capable?”
“Sir!” snapped Katsuki, before taking another deep breath. “You’re right. I’ve destroyed many precious things. Now, however, I want to learn how to protect precious things.” His knuckles ached with the pressure as he gripped the wood in front of him. “Will you teach me?” It didn’t sound like a question, so much as a challenge.
The director was silent for a long moment. Katsuki’s breath sounded like a vacuum cleaner in his ears. Then the man said, “My name is Everett Longbottom, son. You can call me Longbottom.”
When he paused, Katsuki nodded. “Yes, s—Longbottom… sir.”
Longbottom chuckled as he walked around his expansive desk and clapped Katsuki on the shoulder. “Volunteers with backbone are always welcome here, Katsuki.”
Thanks for reading! This is a chapter from my story “The Origin of Fire-Eyes Katsuki”. If you like what you see, you can get the rest of the story here.
Great story! Everyone I know has been enjoying the book.
Thank you so much for reading and sharing! It means the world to me.