Not All Heroes Wear Capes
I’ve always thought Canterlot High had the weirdest new kids. Sure, all the neighboring schools had their national chess champions, students who claimed they were wizards or angels from other dimensions, and all the assorted others. But who else could claim they had Crystal Prep refugees, actual sirens, or, most unforgettable of all, a former horse like me who actually was from another dimension?
Even with that in mind, all those still paled to the time I first met her in the freshman hallway, practically pinned to a locker by some of the burliest guys in school. The scene was enough to make anyone cringe, with the way they had at least a hundred pounds on the latest new girl, someone I couldn’t have been less familiar with.
It was anyone’s guess why they were grilling her so early on, but when I walked in on the scene with Rarity, she pointed directly at the girl’s purse, a designer model by the look of it. It’d been the one speck of distinction on her entire body, covered with freckles and surrounded with a scruffy red ponytail. While I figured CHS was above petty theft, she’d launched herself into action just before the girl muttered words the upperclassman had tossed around in her mind ever since.
In that blink of a moment, before I could even comprehend what had happened, the girl had shoved her attacker straight off her like butter off a knife and uttered the words that officially made her the strangest transfer student yet.
“I’ve seen worse.”
“Um, what?” the male student asked in confusion, now himself practically pinned to a wall.
The other girl had every chance to do the same to do the same to him, yet she just walked away.
“Your technique’s off, man,” she muttered as she swung her purse behind her. “Do some time in Manehattan and then get back to me, okay?”
It only takes a couple of hours to make a legend, whether good or bad. I’d been on both sides, but even then, she made her presence known in record time. She didn’t even need siren magic, or anything else, to get people talking about her, just a few rumors like the ones I used to spread. And even stranger, the mysteries about her didn’t clarify themselves, and even a week after the incident, no one knew anything.
Like an unsolvable equation, only two things were certain about her: no one ever called her by her real name, just “the Crimson Dynamo.” Maybe hiding her name was part of her mystique, something that could be dissolved in only a few words. But just like always, there was something else behind the whispers, behind this mysterious superhero-like mask.
The second known factor: she had been a delinquent at her last school. No one knew what she had done, but she sure knew what I had done. It was that fact, above all, that brought her to me.
****
From that first meeting in the hall, people said she would always show up without warning. She sat away from everyone else like a shadow watching in, and on more than a few cases, I felt tempted to approach her. I knew what it was like to feel separate from everyone else, especially when it came to the school rumor mill. Yet somehow or another, the timing was never quite convenient enough for the two of us to meet, or she just seemed completely uninterested. She’d always stare off into space at her purse, as if it contained the stars themselves.
I’d just about given up on trying to talk to her until one day, in her second week of school. Twilight and the others had a slightly earlier lunch time than I did, so as they left and I stayed, the so-called Crimson Dynamo made her ambush. Granted, it was only a single, barely interested poke on the shoulder, but that had still been enough to make me jump from my spot. As I whipped around, she stared at me with a blank, yet nervous look in her eyes.
“Um, can you help?” she asked in the vaguest way possible.
Hearing her in that moment, her voice seemed much more childish than before, and even her body appeared to have shrunk in size. She twirled her ponytail around her finger, waiting for a response as though her question had made complete sense.
“Sure,” I replied. “With what, exactly? Homework or something?”
“No.”
Her voice lowered to a whisper as she leaned closer to me, looking me straight in the eyes.
“I’ve heard you’re a ‘student who understands.’ I’ve got nothin’ on what that means, but maybe you can help me. Principal Celestia looked at my records, and she thinks I should go to the counselor. But there’s no way I’m doin’ that. Fuhgeddaboudit!”
I admit, that last word was the most normal part of this entire conversation, but somehow, that was the detail I snagged on. Who knew Manehattanites actually said that, with that exact tone of voice? I must’ve laughed my head off about that, because the other girl just stared at me harder with something that was almost a glare.
“So,” I said in a level tone, trying to forget about that dumb mistake, “why don’t you want to go to the counselor? Why do you even need to go, anyway?”
“Just stuff about those dumb rumors, that’s all. And there’s no way you’ll understand. It’s pointless tellin’ someone your life story when they’re just gonna move on to someone else and not even work with you. I figure it’d be easier with a student, and especially one with the magic touch.”
I figured the saying had been a complete coincidence, but the girl’s wink said otherwise. Somehow or another, someone outside of CHS had found out about our magic, and troubled kid or not, that was still something that needed to be cleared up. The easiest way to get this info out of her would’ve been to befriend her and to ask the question once she trusted me completely.
“All right, so tell me: who are you, and how do you know about my magic?”
Then again, I never had been the type to take the easy route in anything. Even if her choice of words would’ve been a coincidence, there was no way out now. The other girl broke into an uncharacteristic grin and snickered a little, something that didn’t bode well for me or anyone.
“Babs Seed. You’re friends with my cuz, Applejack, and that’s how I know. You mean ya didn’t see the resemblance before?”
There wasn’t much of any to speak of other than the freckles, but she still wore enough apple accessories for me to have suspected it a while ago. I gave a quick sigh of relief, making a mental note to ask Applejack more about this weird cousin of hers later. However hesitant I’d been to help her out before, something about her still fascinated me, and her connection to one of my best friends only heightened that.
“Anyway, I was thinkin’ maybe I wouldn’t even need to talk at all,” Babs went on, a sly grin popping up on her face. “Not that I don’t want to be friends or anythin’, but usin’ your abilities would be a lot easier than me having to talk you up about my past, right?”
Even outside her act, I could still see the vulnerability in her eyes. There were plenty of reasons a student as odd as she was wouldn’t want to see a counselor: even with the way CHS had gotten throughout the onslaught of magical attacks, there would still be those who wouldn’t believe her. But if she placed so much emphasis on understanding, and if she knew I’d had my fair share of magical issues, too, then why wouldn’t she want to talk here and now.
“You’re scared,” I told her in a soft voice, trying not to drive her away. “From what I can see, there’s a lot you haven’t told people, and usually when people are like that, it’s for a good reason.”
Babs gave a tiny, almost ashamed nod of agreement, but still said nothing to confirm or deny my suspicions.
“Magic isn’t the best way of handling those sorts of emotions.”
“And why do you say that?” she asked.
I’ve read books about people like me, my first thought had been. Fiction, obviously, but still—in some cases, looking into people’s minds can lead to other things. In the book I’m reading now, the girl can see memories with a single touch, but if she’s not careful, she can wipe them, too. Little pieces of memory can fall out when you try that, and I’m still inexperienced. Again, it’s not like it’s something that happens in real life, but it’s plausible enough from what I know about magic, and you should be more careful.
That explanation would’ve made me sound like a moron, I realized, so I decided to go with the most immediately obvious option.
“If it’s something that you’ve felt for long enough, it can’t be rushed. Your heart takes time to heal, and while I’d be able to help you a bit by seeing your memories, it wouldn’t speed up the healing or do it for you. That’s something you have to do yourself.”
Babs stood and stared into space for a few seconds, nodding her head as I spoke as she tried to understand what I was saying. Students had already begun to flood out of the cafeteria, and I realized that I’d only eaten about half the food on my plate. Just as I was about to take another bite, though, the younger girl raised her finger, and a puzzled look fell onto her face.
“Just to clear things up, does that mean you’re open to tryin’ stuff with me that isn’t magic?”
“Of course. I’m always open to helping students make new friends here, and Applejack should be happy to hear about it. I’m free after school if you need me.”
“Okay, cool,” she responded, flashing finger guns in my direction. “Meet you in the library, then.”
As if this whole situation hadn’t turned out weird enough, as she walked away, Babs yet again whispered the last thing I thought she, or anyone else, would say in a situation like this.
“By the way, you’ve gotta show me that book.”
It was then that I remembered the one consequence I knew about my new magic among a stream of unknowns.
If someone else touches you for more than thirty seconds, they can hear all your thoughts from that time.
This, I realized, was going to be far trickier than I’d thought.
****
From the meeting at the library onwards, I was able to deduce one small thing about the mysterious underclassman, one constant in a field of mystery. The girl could talk about anything, but never about her past. Every time I tried to bring it up, or get our eyes back on the mission, she’d just feed me the tiniest of details and move on. And I accepted that, knowing whatever connection the two of us had would begin and end with our deal.
In the month since I’d met her, Babs had made a few small steps of progress. She now felt completely comfortable around the cousins that, for whatever reason, she’d never really gotten to know before. I found out that she’d been adopted by a family with its origins in Manehattan, and read up on the foster care system to make sure I’d be able to tackle her story properly when it came. But, for the most part, our conversations after school centered far less on actual consoling and healing of hearts than on normal chit-chat.
Today, she came running out of school wearing a black beanie embroidered with what I assumed would’ve been her cutie mark as a pony: a red apple cut in two, forming silver scissor handles. I still had no clue how Babs learned how to style hair at such a young age, but one day, as soon as she found out I needed a trim off the ends, she begged me to come to her house and let her try. It went surprisingly better than planned, even if it added another layer of mystery to her.
“Nice hat!” I yelled out, waiting for her just outside the demolished portal-statue. “Don’t think I’ve seen that one before!”
“If I was still in Manehattan, I would’ve started wearin’ them a lot sooner,” she replied. “It takes a lot longer to get chilly up here, but I figured I might as well.”
She brushed a tiny strand of her hair underneath her ear, and unlike when I first met her, her face was practically beaming with excitement. Maybe, I thought to myself, she’d wanted to be friends with me all along, and the “therapy” thing had just been an excuse.
In that moment, she’d almost seemed like an ordinary kid. An ordinary kid who’d been rumored to cause trouble in the past, but then again, there hadn’t been anything strange about that with me. Who said there had to be some deep reason with her?
“The store I got it at’s up a couple blocks,” she finally said, breaking my silence. “Custom embroidery and everythin’. If you keep starin’ at it like that, I’ll end up havin’ to buy you one, you know.”
There was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes just like the time we’d met, and I knew there was no stopping her now. Even if she could tell by the way she’d touched me that my mind definitely wasn’t on the hat, she still felt like she owed me a favor.
She took my hand, not caring about the types of things she would hear about her if she did, and we ran like schoolgirls. A year ago, such a thing would’ve ruined my reputation like nobody’s business, but somehow, I just let myself get caught in her ride, the same way I’d done when I first met my other friends.
We watched outside when we got there, our breath making streams of smoke as we pressed ourselves against the window. An embroidery machine was moving at breakneck speeds, placing each series of stitches into a different object. While I knew Rarity would probably kill me just for going into a gimmicky place like this, at least I knew it would be cheaper than some of the high-fashion items Babs was into.
Plus, as much as I hated to admit it in front of her—
“You really need a new hat,” Babs finished.
I almost cursed, realizing she’d been holding my hand the whole time. I still really need to control that ability better.
Even then, she’d barely listened in on any internal conversations since we’d met. I’d set up certain parameters with her, and with the rest of my Canterlot High friends, just after I found out what my abilities could do. So, we’d all learn to tune it out, keep our touching to a thirty-second minimum, and I’d try not to fry anyone’s brain to the point of amnesia, since I still had no idea if that was possible. We’d all agreed to one big privacy measure, no different from how you’d monitor yourself on a computer.
Still, I worried that, with the way she’d caught her way into one thought, that she hadn’t been able to filter everything out. That somehow, she’d figured out how much I really worried about her, and the way she’d held everything in for too long the way Twilight and I had.
“You know what they say back where I’m from,” I whispered to break the awkwardness. “When you see your breath in winter, it means windigoes are nearby.”
I’d never paid attention to any of those tall tales, but I knew how fascinated Babs was with them. I still wasn’t sure whether Applejack had explained the whole Equestria thing to her or not, but with the weird urban legends she’d told me about Manehattan, it didn’t seem to make a difference either way. Magical or mundane, every place had its quirks, and somehow, we’d managed to find each other in those. Clear or unclear, our pasts brought us together one way or another.
She smiled a little at the random fact, then back at the embroidering machine. Yet even as we walked in, I could still tell by the look in her eyes that something had just gone very wrong.
I shook the thought off and waved to the cashier, a girl my age with her hair in a blue bob. We didn’t know each other that well, or at least well enough for me to know where she worked, but I still recognized Babs’ sister Coco when I saw her. I’d heard that she’d saved up a lot of money beforehand when she worked at a famous fashion house in Manehattan, but that she still needed to work to save enough money to go to Crystal Prep.
That had been another thing—even though Babs loved her sister to death, and I swore she wore the various promotional items Coco had gotten her just to show off how great she was, somehow they still didn’t end up in the same school.
For a while, I’d figured Babs’ bad image had gotten in the way of her going to Crystal Prep, but she’d explained it away, telling me a variety of excuses. They didn’t have a hairstyling program, or emphasize anything she was good at. She didn’t have high enough grades to place in. Finally, after weeks of cajoling, she’d finally admitted it: she could’ve made it into Crystal Prep, but the school’s atmosphere scared her.
When I’d asked her if it was because of the controversy a while back with Principal Cinch and all, she’d just told me that she “didn’t have a good track record with rich people.” And then, like usual, she’d shoved the issue aside to another time, leaving that as the only real hint I had about her life.
For a while, when I bought the hat and waited for it to be personalized with my cutie mark, everything seemed fine. That little glow had returned to Babs’ eyes in full force, and it stayed that way until Coco glanced at her. Some weird sister language, sure, but within the hour, I’d already know what all this was about.
After a few moments of hesitancy, Babs finally asked, “Can we still be friends after all this?”
I’d barely had a minute to respond before Babs took my hand the way she had many times before. Yet suddenly, everything began to fade around me, and my necklace glowed like never before. I wanted to scream as the hat shop vanished, yet I didn’t. I knew where I was.
I was in another world. Or rather, another time.
Babs took my hand and placed against her skin. And, in that unexpected moment, she had finally given me everything I needed to know.
****
I had never traveled as far as memories. With a touch and magic like mine, thoughts came out quickly and easily. I’d been practicing to the point where I felt I could someday reach past that, but I never once dreamed it would be now.
Memories, by and large, tend to be fragmented and panicked. Instead of bringing a single one to mind, several appear in only a few seconds, and I suspect friends reveal even more to themselves. Even with my level of expertise, seeing the exact memories you need to see is a challenge, from what little the book I read said about it.
The surprise faded, though, when I remembered to take in my surroundings. I was in an affluent neighborhood in Manehattan, watching like a ghost as a house lit up with shouting. Even though the magic made itself clear in every other regard, I could still hear only a few words.
“It was so long ago. You’re the only one I love now.”
A woman, her dying words, telling her husband that the child he’d raised all these years was not his. A voice outside my mind told me that none of this was important, it was only bringing up bad wounds, get it over with, get it over with—
The memory flashed to the way the man had treated the child in the past, to the love he’d shown, just as he threw her out of his house. He’d locked the door, and Babs had begun banging against the window, begging him to let her in again. Crying outside in the cold, until the man finally came back out. Pushed her into the car, dropped her off, out of his life.
And then everything else came in flashes. She’d still gone to school even as she lived in the streets, and every scene bore the rage of a person itching to fight. Everything was filled to the brim with threats, punches, fights, and eventually, tears. Those were reserved only for the quiet nights alone, as the girl wondered why those little bits of fear she caused everyone didn’t fill her heart like the love she lost had.
A feeling I knew all too well. As I watched, she never stopped, even as she was restrained by everyone else. Thoughts went by like heartbeats with only one thought in common.
“That’s right, I’m a bad seed that causes misfortune. So family’s a useless concept to me. Why bother when I can’t make anyone stay?”
And then, in a slow moment, everything changed. For the longest time, I felt as if I had been in Babs’ body, and yet now I was watching everything from a distance again. A young blue-haired girl strolled down the street and stared at her phone, not even seeing someone grab her purse out of the corner of her eye.
I didn’t know what had compelled Babs to act, but I knew what would happen as soon as she ran onto the scene. As if someone had flipped a switch, she defended the girl against whatever attack came, even though the mugger was twice her size and twice as aggressive.
The Babs from the memory would have never stopped to help a stranger on the street, but somehow, I felt the change exactly when it happened. The way hurting others no longer brought the satisfaction it once did, and the way the blue-haired girl extended her hand in friendship and chased the bad memories away. Everything else in her mind was nothing but light after that.
This time, she didn’t even protest as the girl wrapped her into her arms. Because, like me, she’d found her peace, and all that remained were the last few pieces of darkness.
****
After I came back to reality, all I could do was show Babs how I felt in a way words couldn’t convey. I wrapped her into myself, patting her back as she let the stray tears escape her body.
I would find that even months later, after I’d finally mastered my abilities, I’d never find any as vivid as Babs’. And just like everything else, I didn’t need to ask before I knew. Deep down, even though she’d used magic as a crutch, she’d wanted to tell me, and the words never stopped flowing after that. As much as she swore she was a coward when it came to her past, few people have barriers as thin as hers in their minds.
She didn’t have to trust anyone. She could’ve stayed on her unbreakable barrier forever, hurting others rather than allowing herself to be hurt. Those thoughts, not the rumors, are what has clouded my mind about her ever since.
Recovery didn’t come that day, or any time close to it. But when we held onto each other, we swore we could feel wings sprouting from our back as we transformed just like I had once before.
Acts don’t make heroes out of people like us, I thought to myself. Trusting against all odds, and starting again with friends, does.
Author's Note
Sorry for the sappy definition of heroism, guys. I figured it is MLP we're talkin' after all, so...*shrugs*
This idea started as an after-school special and ended as "Nana with two rocker chicks instead of one." Less of a mentor/underclassman relationship than a female friendship of equals. Some of the little details about Sunset's abilities (including the wiping minds thing) were also inspired by the Darkest Minds series, which I got hooked on as I was writing this. 
