Haru Kurama

Haru Kurama

18 || Heterosexual || Male || Hero

PERSONALITY

APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 1.89m
WEIGHT: 72kg
HAIR/STYLE: Brown, neck-length, jaggedly cut hair styled back in a comfortable, unkempt manner.
SKIN/SCARS: Averagely pale and marked with numerous paper cuts.
EYES: Brownish-red with slight strain marks and a wide, friendly shape.
NOTABLES: Various signs of stress and strain.


Haru is a handsome man with a slick physique and moderately pale skin. Though tall, he is in no way intimidating as he stands with a lax posture and often smiles or makes other dumb expressions. With short, chestnut hair to frame a strong face home to bronzed eyes and a mischievous, thin pair of lips.

His shoulders are broad and limbs are long, arms ending in dextrous hands with pen calluses on either hand, as he is ambidextrous. While not particularly muscular, Haru did well keeping himself in good shape through his painfully strict budgeting and work quotas. 

HISTORY

Morning, in a quiet little home on the outskirts of Tokyo, a bell rung. A soft bell. A sombre bell. A psalm painted such a fine lavender that it took the consensus of angels to let the gentle morning be torn up in the raucous shrieks of a newborn baby entering this world of ours. Pink and feeble, the boy had the bluest eyes and the smoothest skin. He was a puddle of milk in the arms of a tired woman who practically shone with that genuine, unique joy of newfound motherhood. The father anxiously tightened a ragged tie, having rushed from his shop upon the news. A home birth, of course. No hospital would take a woman without health insurance, pregnant or no. A friend played the part of the midwife but was forgotten from this story before long. A mother and father surrounded their first child and gazed upon him. And he gazed back. Haru Kurama. Son of Enzo and Trisha. A doomed family.

Slowly, the months ticked by and something similar to that morning occurred. Haru slept in Enzo's arms while Trisha exerted herself to summon forward one more cursed disaster. A raven-haired daughter. Haru's beloved sister. Rin. And with Rin came an unwelcome disparity. The home that had been raised despite their mutual poverty was shaken. Financial demands became threats. So the father, afraid, took a foolish risk. And swiftly became addicted to the numbers in black.
Haru learned to walk without his father. Gurgled his first word without his father. Refused the pacifier without his father. He was there. Sometimes. But only as a part of himself. Like he'd left something behind in that stuffy, cramped, claustrophobic box he called a shop. Rin, of course, was adored and showered with the love that Haru would waddle away from. "He must be tired." Trisha would say. Every time.

The boy awoke to his quirk early when one day at school, after a particularly stuffy lesson, he prepared to eat a homemade lunch made by his loving mother. He was caught by surprise though when a previously delicious looking chicken sandwich sprouted mould seemingly from thin air! Haru, confused at how the previously pristine bread would spoil so quickly, tried to eat around it, but only found that wherever his fingertips touched, a patch of green and white mould would grow. A little frightened, he told the teacher of his finding and was promptly brought to the newly-implemented quirk counsellor. Turns out, Haru had developed his quirk! The ability to cause rot in things he'd touched. After that first day, he couldn't replicate the act of rotting without concentrating extremely hard, and only after a painful ache throbbed in his head. Haru decided he didn't like his quirk and tried to refrain from using it in the future.

Soon though, something crept into the cradle of weakness that was Haru's father. Foolishness. The hubris of a man who gambles and finds himself winning a little too much. And as per the usual in that situation, the house decided Enzo had won enough. With a foul swipe, their finances were obliterated. Everything went red. No chance of bouncing back. He'd gone bust. Haru, only nine years old, didn't even get to say goodbye to his sister the day their parents separated entirely. Silent, he held his mother's hand and stared in front of his feet. Confused.

From then on, Haru didn't see much of his little sister. Christmases. A couple birthdays. Maybe. He could remember the stifling smugness of Enzo's expression. A teenager now, he knew when he was being looked down upon. Rin was growing up without him. Becoming taller, though not by much. Becoming quieter. Smarter. More nervous. He was worried, but, he had his own home to think about back then. He became less and less of an appearance in Rin's life as their mother's health took a catastrophic turn for the worse. They had taken to writing letters between each other, to save the awkwardness of actually saying hello.
Trisha Kurama snapped.
Something in a mind weakened by the stress of divorce and financial problems raising a child as a single mother had failed. One night, she went to bed without dinner. And did not rise again in the morning.

The doctors said it was just the stress. Some bed rest and she'd be fine. Haru knew better. Somehow, he knew better. She would blink. Stare into empty space as if it were all that existed. Mutter things so quietly, whispers were jet planes in transit. Grip onto her nightgown, tense and release. Haru, for all intents and purposes, was alone now. Fourteen years old and left with a catatonic mother incapable of making money or cooking food or holding him. Despair was an understatement of what that lonely boy felt. Truly, this was an insufferable hell. Truly, only death would be a saviour from this terrible existence. Truly, there was no other option...

But... Something drove him.
The very next day, he applied for work in no less than 40 establishments. Explained that he could nurse his mother with the right training. Put his studies on hold. Smiled. Sorta. Not a smile. A sneer. A grimace. A glare at that empty space. A wholehearted, hateful, despairing dare. With Rin's worried lettered clenched in his fist.

Before long, Haru was employed with a morning, afternoon job on the weekdays and a 9-5 weekend job. He brought in respectable money, making space for the short time he spent learning to care for his mother. He'd bathe her biweekly, feed her every night, change her sheets and gown and help her to the bathroom. The list of things to do never really got close to ending. He knew he shouldn't blame his mother. It wasn't her fault. Sometimes, he'd spent his night with her, holding her hand and listening to her mutter. Years of the same things. Whispers of her mistakes.
"...If only I didn't..." - "Enzo would still be here..." - "Rin... My baby..." - "All my fault..."
All ramblings, of course, and Haru did everything he could in trying to convince her otherwise. Convince her that she was cared for. That he loved her and was there for her. To look after her through this phase she was going through.

"Then why is our family so broken?" She asked more than once. "Why haven't you helped?"
It... Was hard to hear. After everything, he'd done and was doing and would continue to do. It was so, so, so disheartening to hear her say that he didn't do enough. Blaming him for something he didn't do. He was told that she might say things like that and to not take them to heart, but...

To his classmates, whom he rarely saw, he was an inspiration. He took upon his shoulders so much weight and seemed to carry it with such levity! He'd laugh and make jokes and socialise as well as anyone else. But of course, the heart is hidden beneath thick skin and bone. Invisible, it shuddered with each resounding thud. The chains wrapped around his lungs. The constant, scorching agony in his stomach. A headache he struggled to hide at all. Insomnia was more a poisonous ally than a friend. He couldn't go on like this. He knew that. He knew that and smiled anyway.
He'd long since resigned himself to this.
He knew he'd die caring for a woman who couldn't look him in the eye.
Who still called for Him.
The bastard who dragged their family apart.
Whose stupid investments ruined their lives.
Haru scraped at his arms at the mere thought of sharing that man's blood.
But.
He still smiled. Of course, he did. No one would be there to save him, so why put on the show?

There were no such things as heroes. Not quite yet.

A triplet of letters arrived one day after Haru returned from an all-night shift working tables at a bar. One was a utility bill he'd prepared for weeks in advance. One was an offer from a friend at the local care home asking him for the hundredth time to allow them to take his mother into their care, saying he'd call it a personal favour after Haru loaned the man enough money to keep his own family afloat. Charity? Or an investment? Of course, as always, Haru planned to ignore the letter entirely. Regardless of the stress, anxiety, self-hatred and lack of any form of satisfaction, this lack of change was comforting. It was stable and handleable. And then there was the third letter and upon reading the return address, he needed to sit down.

Rin had written him a letter. Memories of his little sister flitted over his eyes. They hadn't seen each other in years by now, the last time being a long since gone Christmas before their mother snapped. They had dinner together, quietly enjoyed the presence of the other. Gave small, heartfelt gifts in the morning. It was a happier memory of Haru's. Though he did notice she looked significantly thinner and gaunt, which didn't worry him too much. Rin had always been a brainy little thing. Maybe she was taking her studies as seriously as he did. He hoped not. Kids needed to have childhoods. He hoped she was making sure to make friends and have fun.
This wasn't her first letter. Rin had written many, many letters over their years, but recently went quiet. Since his mother needed so much attention, he was too busy to reply to her, so he assumed she just gave up trying to reach him 8 months or so ago. But he remembered her stories. Being accepted into UA was something she was so excited for. Scared too, but he empathised; the first "Hero School" was quite the buzzing topic in the world. She'd write how she made friends and participated in the gruelling training the students were undergoing. How she'd inadvertently caused the sad death of some animal. How terrible she felt. He was worried about her, but in his own, quiet way, he cheered her on. He remembered being ecstatic for days when he heard his sister had become UA's #1 student at her age!

Now he regretted not responding. She was writing, saying that she was sorry for not being in touch for the last few months. That her life had taken an unexpected nosedive. She tried to play it off as nothing to worry about, as she always did in her letters. But something in her handwriting was like a cry for help she'd never voice. The silly girl seemed to think her older brother was too busy to help her. Or something? She was right either way. Haru had obligations. Jobs, things he couldn't just drop to check up on his little sister.

Or could he? UA was an interesting subject in his head. His own quirk was more than enough to get him a place there if he wanted. His grades were phenomenal and he had connections with respected business-people throughout Tokyo. He'd no doubt get some snazzy experience from a hero school. Imagine the career possibilities! He wasn't interested in being a hero, but there was no mistaking the opportunities that'd open up for him. And besides, maybe this is what he needed. A break from all these shitty jobs. From her. Oh, right, his mother... He couldn't just leave her...
But a scholarship... A scholarship would allow him to pay for care while he was away. Though he'd have pennies elsewise and house would have to go. Who knew though? Maybe time away from a son she didn't love would cure her of her incurable illness. This was the first time he'd been genuinely excited for years.
And Rin. He'd like to see Rin again.
He'd love to see Rin again. And all the friends she'd mentioned.
Tapping out a detailed, professional email to a couple of friends connected to UA, his application process began.

And Haru began on a very, very long journey.