(Ace Katsuro)
Three months ever since my case. Three months of hiding my true self. Three months of hiding. Three months of going into disguise. I stood up from the ground. The hole was spacious. It had to have been. It took days to complete it after all. It had to stay hidden. At the very back, there were lumps of clothes I’ve stolen for disguise. It was the only way to sneak around without getting caught. I slipped on a hoodie, a mask and slapped on some shades to conceal my eyes. I’ve created a ledge to climb out from, so I don’t have to rely on my wings. I would never have to use my powers again. I climbed out of my hideout, covered it with camouflage before going out.
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It was stressful. It always was. Everytime I had to take a few deep breaths while walking down the streets. Around people. People who hate me, but don’t even realize it was me. It was terrifying. But I couldn’t let them end me. Because despite my hate for them, I wanted to live like them. If I just never use my powers, would that be acceptable? I mean, I just look like a guy. Black hair. Brown eyes. Tanned skin. It wasn’t even my fault the borders were up in the first place. I’m just a bonus. But if I take them down, I can run away. I will run away. Far from everyone else and live my life. Sounds like a dream, but it could be a reality. I just have to try.
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I stopped by a local grocery store and headed to the bakery aisle. I grabbed a loaf of bread and stuffed it up my hoodie. It made it look more baggy, which was alright. These were baggy clothes after all. And no one saw me. For once, no one was paying attention to me. I could just walk around in this, but it was stressful. I had to fake a voice and everything. I avoided talking as much as possible. I strolled out of the store and turned my heel to walk away. Diamond street had the smallest alleyways. You’d most likely find trash. And trash appeals to no one, so it was a perfect spot for me to eat. I would go to my hideout, but I needed some air. I pulled down my mask and breathed. I took out a slice of bread and bit it. I ate about two more before shoving it under my hoodie again. I pulled my mask over my nose. I hate people, I hate people, I hate people, I hate people. It’s a relief I didn’t get caught in so long. Ever since I ran from the hospital, no one has found me. That’s good. But I need to find a way to get out. Going there directly for a complaint is too risky. I’ll most likely get caught. I ran my fingers through my hair. Dammit! What should I do?! I took a few more deep breaths. Relax, don’t annoy yourself, or you’ll cause a scene. That’s when I heard the sound of something flapping through the air in a slow rhythm. I turned only to see a fallen poster that used to be pinned to be on the wall. It was a photo of a girl looking around my age. She had brown hair tied into a ponytail and brown eyes. They looked sharp and she was wearing a black mask. In capital letters, it read: MIRA OKA at the bottom of the page, it said: WANTED
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