Prologue

There are a few images that appear when you think of the word ‘Hero’.

There is the image of the typical gallant knight, saving the world from their foe.

There is also the image of the dashing young man, his holy sword unfurled, basking in its glow.

You can even imagine the hero to be a powerful mage, able to to chant magic that defeats a beast with a single blow.

However, what rarely enters people's minds when they think of ‘Hero’, is someone who struggles.

The hero always effortlessly dispatches their foes. Managing to climb any hills no matter how steep.

The hero is always talented, always special, always possessing a skill or an item that pulls them ahead, leading to them having no troubles.

The hero always has a tragic upbringing or a foe from their past. To make sure their victory never feels cheap.

These are the stories that often find their ways into the hands of a child.

Then…what if someone is neither special nor strong?

What if someone has no skills, no weapon aside from an old battered sword, no grand quest aside from roaming the wild?

How can someone who could never measure up to the standard of fantasy, become someone heroic who rights any wrong?

Someone who looks neither gallant nor dashing.

Someone whose body is filled with scar after scar, like needles in a pile.

Someone who could never be as effortlessly strong as a storybook hero.

Someone who can only win by smashing and crashing and slashing and gnashing and thrashing.

Someone who struggles pathetically and relies on no style.

Someone who is nothing more than a zero.

Someone who no one would call a hero, except for herself.

Someone. Someone. Someone. Someone.

I wish someone would call me a hero.

That way I can finally go back to...

Someone..