(PROFESSOR UZUMAKI) A TALE OF THREE TEENS III

Taylor wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly how reckless her plan was.

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t thought it through. For nights on end, she had lain awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts looping endlessly as she ran over the same arguments, the same fears, until the lines between anxiety and determination blurred together. And every time, she reached the same conclusion: this could go horribly wrong. If her dad ever found out, he’d be furious, or worse, disappointed. They were finally starting to talk again, to rebuild the connection and trust they once had, and yet here she was, planning to sneak out in the middle of the night to do something that could ruin all of that if she got caught.

But the thing was, she couldn’t not do it.

After everything she had been through with the trio, Taylor knew exactly what it felt like to be at the bottom of the food chain, to be small and voiceless, and to feel the world pressing in on her until it was hard to breathe. She had spent months convincing herself that she could endure it, that she didn’t need anyone’s help, that being invisible was safer than being seen. But then Naruto came along, and suddenly, she wasn’t invisible anymore. 

Even before she’d managed to feel that first spark of chakra appear within her, she had begun to understand what it meant to have power. Not the kind that crushed others, but the kind that allowed her to stand taller, to look forward instead of down. And because of that, she couldn’t turn her eyes away from the people still trapped where she had once been.

And speaking of which, she could feel her chakra now, like an extra sense or a muscle she was still learning to use. Using it to enhance herself wasn’t as effortless for her as it was for Sophia, who made everything martial look easy, or was her control as natural as it was for Greg, who treated every new exercise like he’d just unlocked a secret level in one of his games. But she was learning slowly, the same way she did everything else.

And that, she decided, would have to be enough.

She wasn’t delusional; she knew she didn’t stand a chance against an actual villain yet. Even the weakest parahumans out there would swat her aside without effort. But that didn’t change what she felt, or what she knew deep down. That she had to try.

Because someone had given her a chance when no one else did.

Naruto didn’t just teach her how to meditate until she could feel her chakra, or how to circulate it through her body. He saw her, treating her like she mattered. He hadn’t once looked through her the way everyone else did, and hadn’t dismissed her silence or awkwardness. He expected her to grow stronger, to keep trying, and that belief had done something to her. Something she couldn’t undo, or even put into words. 

And maybe that was the problem.

Not everyone had someone like him. Not everyone got pulled out of the muck and given a chance to fight for themselves. Winslow was full of people who had stopped believing things could change, and Brockton Bay was worse. The whole city seemed to feed on that hopelessness. People learned to keep their heads down, to stay quiet, because standing up just made you a target.

Someone had to try to help them.

Taylor wanted to be that person. No, she needed to be that person.

It wasn’t about fame, or the chance to be more than Taylor Hebert, or even the title of ‘hero.’ It wasn’t about revenge either, though a small part of her still burned with anger when she thought of the trio and the things they’d done to her. It was about being something she had needed so desperately in the last year: a hand that reached out when the world decided to look away.

She didn’t know how she was going to do it yet. She didn’t know what she’d wear, how she’d hide her face, or even what name she’d call herself when she finally stepped out there. But she knew why she was doing it. Because someone had found her when she was lost, and now it was her turn to do the same.

Taylor sat by her window, the glass cold against her fingers as she looked out at the quiet street. The neighborhood was still, the rows of houses dim under the weak orange glow of the streetlights. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the faint wail of a siren, carried on the wind, a reminder that even if her little corner of the city looked peaceful, Brockton Bay never truly was.

She watched the flicker of a porch light a few houses down, the movement of a stray cat slinking between garbage bins, and the rustle of wind against the brittle Winter leaves. It was the same view she had stared at countless nights before, but tonight it felt different somehow, as if the silence itself was waiting for something.

Somewhere out there, beyond these darkened streets and quiet houses, people were afraid, others hurting, and most simply forgotten. They thought no one was coming for them.

She clenched her fists and exhaled deeply, feeling chakra pulse faintly through her palms.

She didn’t know where to start, or how to even go about helping these people, but she eventually would. .

Because if she didn’t, then who would?