If you want to be a hero, start with the right mindset.
This was the principle of the girl who had dreamed of becoming a hero since childhood.
With the right mindset, her actions naturally reflected it.
Even if people around her called her old-fashioned, she believed that a hero should not hesitate to do what they think is right, and even if it caused people to distance themselves from her, she considered it natural and lived accordingly.
That's why she was furious when she learned that students at the hero training school were already late on their first day of school.
How could people aspiring to be heroes start with such a mindset?
The two who were late were highly skilled, having detected an illusion that she herself had not noticed and dealt with it calmly, earning high praise. However, she believed that their mindset should be even more heroic, so after finishing her meal, she confronted the red-haired girl and scolded her.
"You're not a kid who can't wake up without your parents, are you?"
"Sorry, I won't be late from tomorrow. And my parents aren't around."
Hearing this, the girl smiled sadly, and her heart sank.
To answer such a question with a smile as if it were nothing, how many times must she have heard such remarks?
In a world where heroes existed to protect people, bullying still occurred in schools.
And not having parents was a good excuse for being bullied.
"She doesn't have parents, so she's different from us."
She must have heard such things countless times.
Each time she heard such words, she must have been hurt, and the scars from those wounds must have accumulated.
To the point where she could laugh it off as if it were nothing, even when she was hurt.
It always happened this way.
What she thought was right ended up hurting others without her realizing it.
That's not what a hero should do.
That day, the guilt that overwhelmed her felt like a tight grip on her heart.
That's why, even though the teacher appointed her as the class president, she didn't feel happy at all.
She had always been happy to take on the role of class president, believing that a hero should always lead others, but this time, she felt nothing.
The only thing she felt was the gaze of the red-eyed girl, who watched her expressionlessly from a distance.
The next morning, while cleaning the classroom, she met the red-haired girl's eyes as she opened the classroom door.
It was 7:30, 30 minutes before the start of school.
Was the girl still thinking about what she had said yesterday?
The girl looked at her for a moment, then turned and disappeared.
Her heart felt heavy, making it hard to breathe.
That day, they had a sparring class.
When the teacher called out the name of her opponent, her heart raced.
The red-haired girl, Scarlett Evande.
Even though facing her was awkward, as a hero, she had to give her best in any situation.
She bit her lip to focus, drew her sword, and used her ability to minimize air resistance, preparing for a speed-based battle.
She had trained to move faster than others, but Scarlett didn't even draw a weapon.
Why not, when she was trying her best?
She suppressed her rising anger and said, "Are you making fun of me? Draw your weapon."
"......I don't have a weapon."
Her pent-up anger reached its peak.
If you want to be a hero, you should have learned to use a weapon from a young age.
Even with strong abilities, there's a difference in power between having a weapon and not.
Not drawing a weapon was a sign of contempt and insult, implying that you could win without one.
In that case, she would make her pay with full power.
Don't expect any leniency just because you're unarmed. Be prepared.
In response to her words, Scarlett slowly took a fighting stance and emitted flames from her body.
The challenge of a fire-type ability lies in its strong long-range attacks.
But her opponent was in a situation without a weapon for close combat.
She would end it in one strike.
She gathered strength in her legs.
3, 2, 1
As the signal to start the match appeared, she lunged forward with a thrust, confident that her speed, unhindered by air resistance, would catch even cautious heroes off guard.
But her sword met no resistance.
Just one step, a narrow but deadly gap, and her sword missed.
The girl's eyes, burning like the flames from her body, met hers.
A shiver ran down her spine at the sight.
Those indifferent eyes quietly burned, saying, "I knew you would attack like that."
A powerful kick came at her.
The shockwave from the kick vibrated the air compression barrier she had set up, making her heart race.
The destructive power was greater than any weapon.
She had underestimated her opponent.
Her opponent had been giving her full effort from the start.
She attacked the moment her kick was blocked, but the girl dodged with incredible agility, showing no sign of panic.
From that single exchange, she understood.
A body trained to its maximum potential.
Eyes that seemed to predict attacks.
A mind that remained calm in unpredictable situations.
The depth of what she had built over a lifetime, worthy of being called a warrior.
She scolded herself for underestimating her and raised her sword again.
With a heart full of apology and respect, she hoped her feelings would reach her.
Then, she attacked.
Her opponent dodged by a hair's breadth.
Even her all-out combo left only minor scratches on the girl's body.
Her evasions were so efficient, it was almost ideal.
Despite her ability to move without air resistance, the girl's movements seemed even faster.
Her red eyes, never leaving her, seemed to see through everything.
She felt a wave of shame.
She realized why the girl didn't have a weapon.
Weapons cost money.
Not just the price, but the cost of maintenance and the training from a young age.
Most students at the academy were children of heroes or from prestigious families for this reason.
Ordinary children often gave up on their hero dreams.
But the girl was an orphan.
Could a child without parents afford a weapon?
Could they afford to maintain it or find a teacher?
No, they couldn't.
Yet, she entered the academy without a weapon.
She had trained her body to the point of surpassing those who had received training from a young age.
Without a teacher, without parents.
How much effort must she have put in to reach this level?
Despite being despised for not having parents and facing the harsh reality, she must have trained herself to the point of spitting blood and grinding her bones, something she couldn't even imagine.
She must have fallen and gotten back up, again and again.
Just with the single-minded desire to become a hero.
Compared to her, how insignificant was she?
At that moment, a different, intense flame burned from the girl's fist.
The heat was so intense that it made her pause her attack.
She wouldn't miss such an opportunity.
A step forward, catching the gap in her hasty sword swing.
A fist, clenched with the determination to never bow to the world, flew at her.
That step,
That punch,
The brilliant flame from her fist seemed to
represent her entire life,
and the girl couldn't help but think,
Ah, how beautiful.
After the sparring session, during lunchtime.
She saw Scarlett talking to someone in a corner.
When asked if she had learned martial arts from a young age and how difficult it must have been, she nodded indifferently.
A surge of impulse rose in her chest.
She caught up with Scarlett as she left the snack stand and bowed, apologizing.
For unknowingly hurting her, for unknowingly misunderstanding her.
Apologizing is a selfish act.
Hurting others carelessly, regretting it carelessly, and trying to feel better by unloading your regrets.
But she felt too ashamed not to apologize, so she made Scarlett the victim of this selfish act.
After unloading her words, she felt a bit better.
In the past, when she apologized to people she had hurt, they usually noticed her selfishness and left without a word.
So she expected the same from Scarlett, bowing and waiting for the sound of her leaving.
But she felt Scarlett's hand on hers.
"Thank you for apologizing."
A warm, gentle word, as warm as her touch.
Her eyes welled up at the warmth of those words.
Did Scarlett know how much those words meant to her?
She quickly left the spot, feeling as if the dam holding back her tears would burst.
That night, the girl lay in bed, stretching her arm to look at her hand.
Would she forget today's events with time?
She shook her head gently.
Like the warmth of the hand that held hers, this moment would be etched in her memory for life.
She placed her other hand lightly on the back of her outstretched hand.
For the first time, the girl, who had only dreamed of becoming a hero, wanted to be friends with someone.
*
At that moment, another girl was despairing, realizing that a macaron divided into 20 pieces was barely more than crumbs.
Author's Note
When reading a novel, many supporting characters appear.
Among them, there are characters who are a bit old-fashioned but hardworking, diligent, and kind.
I found myself having more affection for such supporting characters than the main character.
The class president is a character created from such thoughts.
I feel a bit sorry for the class president, who is mistaken for being perfect.
If you think the class president has more heroine potential than Sylvia,
it's because I like the class president that much.
Anyway, Sylvia is the heroine.
Anyway.
I added a scene of Scarlett's dinner to balance the serious tone of this chapter.
By the way, it's true that a woman can survive on one meal a day.