A DISTANT MEMORY FROM 10 YEARS AGO:
The Kazama family and the Yamamoto family were celebrating the latter's 10th wedding anniversary. It was a small, intimate gathering with just the two families who had been inseparable since their school days. The Yamamotos' modest home felt warm despite the late autumn chill outside, filled with the smell of home-cooked food and the soft glow of paper lanterns strung across the living room.
"Where's Takahashi-senpai?" Mrs. Yamamoto asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. "He said he would be here by seven. Don't tell me he is going to be late again".
"You know how it is," Mr. Kazama replied with a smile, pouring tea. "Hero work doesn't run on a schedule. He'll show up when he can. Lately the Japanese Hero Association has started giving him even more work".
"Fashionably late, as always," Mr. Yamamoto added with a chuckle. "Remember when he missed our entire graduation ceremony because of that villain downtown?"
Everyone present laughed while reminiscing about that time.
"And he still managed to make it to the after-party," Mrs. Kazama said while trying to hold her laughter, shaking her head. "Some things never change."
Five-year-old Kazama Raiden didn't understand much about anniversaries and gossip, but he understood cake. The chocolate one sitting on the dining table looked incredible, with swirls of frosting. Seven-year-old Hana Yamamoto sat across from him, swinging her legs under the table, equally mesmerized.
"Can we have some now?" Raiden asked, tugging at his father's sleeve.
His father laughed, ruffling his hair. "Soon, kid. Lets just wait for Takahashi-san for another 15 minutes. Then we can't start. Meanwhile, we can talk about some stuff. So what do you wanna talk about ?".
"But that's boring," Hana whined, making both families chuckle.
"Tell you what," Hana's mother said with a warm smile. "Why don't you two go play upstairs for a bit? We'll call you when it's time for cake."
The children didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled out of their chairs and raced up the stairs, their laughter echoing through the house. The attic had become their favorite hiding spot during these family gatherings, full of old boxes, forgotten toys, and the kind of dusty mystery that made everything feel like an adventure.
Raiden found a flashlight and clicked it on, casting shadows across the cluttered space. "I'm a hero detective, like our parents!"
"Then I'm a detective too," Hana declared, picking up an old magnifying glass with a cracked lens.
They played for what felt like hours but was only twenty minutes, creating elaborate stories about solving crimes and catching bad guys. The kind of innocent games children play, not knowing how close to reality they'd soon become.
That's when the voices started drifting up through the floorboards.
At first, they were normal. An adult conversation, the occasional laugh. But then the tone shifted. It became urgent. Strained.
Raiden put a finger to his lips, and Hana nodded, going quiet. They crept toward the crack in the attic floor where light spilled through, pressing their faces close to see below.
"You can't be serious." Raiden's father said loudly and his voice sounded wrong. Tight. Scared in a way that made Raiden's stomach flip.
A deeper voice responded, "Agreements change when circumstances do. You now know too much. All of you."
"We're detectives," Hana's mother said, but her voice shook. "We were doing our job. The Kurotsuki Mafia …."
Raiden didn't understand much but the mention of Kurotsuki Mafia got stuck in his mind.
Hana grabbed Raiden's hand. Her fingers locked around his, squeezing so hard it hurt. Her other hand covered her mouth. They were scared. The tone. The tension. And both the tone and tension only heated up as the conversation went on.
"We haven't reported anything yet," Hana's father said quickly, hands raised. "We can... we can work something out."
"I know," the stranger said quietly. "I'm sorry it came to this."
A flash of movement.
Hana's mother's scream, cut short.
Raiden's father's shout, "RUN!", then the loud crack of something breaking. A wet sound that Raiden's five-year-old mind couldn't process but would never forget.
Then silence. The kind of silence that feels like the world has stopped breathing.
Raiden couldn't move. He couldn't think. Below him, red was spreading across the floor, seeping into the light coming through the crack.
Hana was shivering. Tears rolling down her cheeks as her group on Raiden's hand got even tighter. Making his hand go numb. But he wasn't in the state to complain about it anymore. He was in shock. A tear drop slowly rolled down his cheek. He was about to cry but he couldn't. He wanted to.
Heavy footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Moving through the house.
"Check upstairs," the cold voice said. "Make sure."
The ladder to the attic creaked.
That sound broke whatever spell had frozen them. Hana yanked Kazama backward, pulling him into the darkest corner of the attic, behind old boxes and a rack of forgotten winter coats. They pressed themselves as small as they could, barely breathing.
The creaking grew louder. Closer.
A hand appeared at the top of the ladder, gripping the edge. Then a head, silhouetted against the dim light from below. The figure paused, scanning the attic.
Raiden's heart pounded so loud he was certain they'd hear it. Hana's hand trembled in his, but her grip never loosened.
The figure took one step up into the attic. Then another.
Raiden raised his arm as blue electricity crackled faintly at his fingertips. A ghost of the power that wouldn't awaken for seven more years. A promise of what he'd become.
Kazama Raiden woke up with a violent jolt, sitting upright in his bed. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving like he'd just sprinted a marathon. Sweat soaked through his shirt, cold against his skin despite the warm room. He checked the clock beside his bed. It was 5 AM.
For several seconds, he couldn't move. He couldn't think. The images were still there, burned into his vision,the red spreading across the floor, his mother's cut-short scream, the shadow climbing the attic ladder.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and slowly, the familiar outlines of his room came into focus. It was a simple space, small but well-kept. The walls were bare except for a single shelf mounted near the window that held a handful of books which were mostly about physics, a couple of manga volumes he received from his friends but never got around to starting them. His desk sat against the far wall, clear of clutter save for a lamp and a closed laptop. A chair was tucked neatly underneath.
His school uniform hung on a hook behind the door, pressed and ready for the day. His vigilante outfit however was inside a box under his bed, wrapped under sheets.
This dream again. I don't even know how long it has been since I last had this same dream. Maybe it was the mention of Kurotsuki Mafia last night. Last night ? Ah yes. Same old story. Thugs thinking they own the streets. But this time it was different. They belonged to the Kurotsuki Mafia, Kazama thought as he got out of his bed, wiping his sweat and working his mind around last night.
He sat on the edge of the mattress for a moment, letting his heart rate settle. The images were fading now, retreating back into the corners of his mind where they lived during the day. But the name lingered. Kurotsuki Mafia. Last night. The alley. Those thugs. They belonged to the same group.
There was silence in his house. The stairs and floorboards creaked as he made his way to the kitchen. He started making his own coffee. Black coffee. No sugar.
Maybe I should head out early for school. Getting there on time today might reset the late streak I have, Kazama thought as he took sips from his coffee.
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At 6 AM, Tokyo's streets remained mostly empty, except for the early birds preparing for another day. Shop owners rolled up their shutters while delivery workers distributed newspapers, their headlines already buzzing with the previous night's events.
Kazama Raiden walked with careful strides, heading toward Tokyo Super High, the number one school in Japan for individuals known as The Awakened. His black hair was still slightly messy from sleep, and his dark eyes scanned the streets as moved forward. His white shirt was already slightly wrinkled from the morning humidity, the collar unbuttoned at the top, tucked loosely into his navy blue pants. On his chest pocket, a gold emblem gleamed which was the school's crest with its distinctive design.
He passed the noodle shop where he once had dinner with his father. The memory was still warm, though time had thinned it to something faint and distant.
Can't believe I'm actually early for once, he thought, glancing at his watch. Usually I'm dragging myself out of bed at 7:30, running on five hours of sleep, Kazama thought while looking at his watch.
He passed a convenience store where a TV in the window played the morning news. One headline flashed: "Rogue Showdown in Alley." Another read: "Shirai Takeru Saves 15 from Collapsing Building." The footage showed Takeru bracing steel beams with one arm, his shimmering shield protecting a group of terrified children from the raining debris. Moments later, he was seen carrying survivors to safety, his suit covered in dust yet his smile unwavering. The segment ended with him giving a calm, confident interview calling it "just another day on the job".
Kazama's jaw tightened and right fist closed. Of course they'd spin it that way. "Rogue showdown" makes it sound like two gangs fighting, not someone saving a civilian.
A shop owner nearby adjusted his display, muttering to his employee. "Did you hear? Some vigilante took down five guys last night. One of them had fire powers. Shirai Takeru has now taken over the case"
"Scary stuff," the employee replied with a smile. "Good thing heroes like Shirai-san keep us safe."
Kazama kept walking. Shirai Takeru. The Shield of the Local. He has a really good reputation in these parts. The ideal hero, that's what people call him. Someone who made his name from the ground. But what was he doing there last night ? Why did he mention the Mafia ? If he was on patrol, he should have gone after the mafia instead of me. I need more answers.
He looked down at the power-dampening bracelet on his wrist. Standard issue for all super students. It suppressed his electricity manipulation during school hours, only releasing during supervised training sessions.
Kurotsuki Mafia. I just wish the rules around using abilities weren't this strict. Just this once. I just need to know. They were the last thing my parents were looking into. And I know they were there that night….
The thoughts kept rushing in as he clenched his fist. But the lack of abilities out in the open without any meaningful purpose were not going to stop Kazama.
The Association focuses their monitoring on downtown and residential areas. The alleys and industrial zones? Those are my territory. There is only one way to investigate now.
He tightened his bag straps, adjusted his uniform and double checked his shoe laces. The alley from last night was about a kilometre away, too far to walk if he wanted time to investigate. His hand brushed against the dampening bracelet on his wrist.
If the thugs really belonged to the Kurotsuki Mafia, then last night wasn't just another mugging. It was a thread. And threads lead somewhere. I just need to grab a loose one. Anything. A clue. A sign. What were they doing there? Shirai Takeru saw me fighting them. But he didn't jump in? Why?
Kazama ducked into an alleyway and broke into a run as he had some unanswered questions along with the involvement of the Kurotsuki Mafia who had a connection to his parent's murders. His hands found the edge of a dumpster, vaulting over it smoothly. He hit the next wall running, shoes catching the brick as he scaled up three meters and rolled over the top. He launched himself over a chain-link fence, tucking into a forward roll on the other side.
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Across the city, Tachibana Takemi walked with her head down. Her light blue hair swayed gently with each step. Her light blue eyes stared absently at the sidewalk ahead.
Ugh. I couldn't sleep at all last night. And the day was so exhausting as well. It's so hard trying to keep up with everything, Takemi thought as she yawned. Something was bothering her.
Should I tell Sakura and Kana about "that thing" ? Or should I just let it be. If I tell them, they might not believe me. And if I don't, it would only double down on me.
She passed the same news displays Kazama had seen moments before on the televisions on her side of the city. The headlines about the alley incident caught her eye.
Thinking about it. It's not very far from here. And I have got some time. But I don't think it's a good idea to check it out. I mean the authorities are probably already handling it and….
She glanced at her phone: 6:17 AM. Homeroom wasn't until 8:15.
Her thoughts were interrupted by movement ahead. A group of people clustered near the crosswalk, an elderly woman with a cane, a delivery boy checking his phone, a mother holding her daughter's hand. The crossing signal blinked, about to turn green. From the right, an engine revved. A delivery bike accelerated toward the intersection, the rider hunched low over the handlebars and it seemed like he had no intention of stopping. The intention was to beat the light and deliver as quickly as possible.
Takemi's eyes widened. He's not slowing down. The light's about to change….
The signal flipped to green. The pedestrians stepped forward.
The bike didn't stop. The speed was 60km/h. Enough to cause major injuries or worse.
Takemi's right hand shot up instinctively. Her eyes flashed white, pupils disappearing for a split second. Invisible force fields materialized around the bike's wheels and brake handle, creating resistance that the rider couldn't see or understand. The front wheel slowed down and then completely locked up. The back tire lifted off the ground as momentum carried it forward in a perfect stoppie. The rider yelped, tumbling over the handlebars in a heap that landed him on his side just before the crosswalk. His fall was cushioned by another force field generated by Takemi.
The pedestrians froze, staring at the bike now lying sideways in front of them. The daughter let out a laugh, "Mom, see how he fell!"
"What the hell?" The rider scrambled to his feet, checking himself for injuries before turning to his bike. "How did …..my brakes were fine at the last red light! Man, I am gonna be late again!"
Takemi lowered her hand slowly, letting the force fields dissipate. Her eyes returned to normal, the white glow fading to her natural light blue.
Too close. Way too close, Takemi sighed. She started to feel relieved. The pedestrians safely crossed the road and for some reason, the elderly woman smiled at Takemi as if she knew what Takemi did. And Takemi smiled back.
After she was completely relieved, a gust of wind rushed past her back. She spun around just in time to see a blur in a Tokyo Super High uniform sprint past, moving with urgent purpose.
That's... our school uniform. But he's not heading toward our school, Takemi instantly recognized.
She squinted, trying to place his face, but he was already too far ahead. She began to process the urgency of the student who gushed past her.
He's running in the direction of last night's incident. Could be nothing. Could it be a part-time job or….
Takemi stopped walking. She started to assume things outside the ordinary.
But what if it's not? What if he knows something about what happened? What if he was involved?
Her curiosity flared. She bit her lip, torn between heading to school and following this strange lead.
If I'm wrong, I'll just look like a stalker. But if I'm right...
She exhaled sharply and turned back, her pace quickening. She wanted to be sure that this hunch was nothing.
Ten minutes. I'll follow for ten minutes. If nothing happens, I'll go to school.
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Kazama's feet pounded against the pavement as he navigated the narrow streets. He planted his hand on a low wall and swung his legs over in a smooth arc, landing in a crouch on the other side.
A spotted cat darted out from between two shop fronts, directly into the path of a cyclist coming from the opposite direction. The cyclist jerked his handlebars right to avoid the animal. His front wheel clipped the edge of a raised drainage cover, and the bike wobbled violently. The man's weight shifted too far forward, sending him careening toward a metal barrier. The cyclist had no control over his bicycle now.
Kazama reacted without thinking. He closed the distance in two strides, caught the cyclist's shoulder with one hand, and grabbed the handlebars with the other. The bike steadied, wobbling for a moment before finding balance.
The cyclist gasped and looked around to thank Kazama. But Kazama was already gone, disappearing around the corner. The cat sat on the sidewalk, licking its paw as if nothing had happened.
Kazama reached the alley. He slowed to a walk, scanning the area. No police tape. No barriers. No officers standing guard.
That's... weird. This should still be an active scene. Multiple suspects with powers, property damage, potential ties to organized crime. They should have this locked down for at least another day, Kazama was surprised as he looked around.
He moved closer, his eyes sweeping the ground. Scorch marks still scarred the concrete where Hiro's flames had burned. A few scuff marks from the fight remained, but otherwise... nothing.
It's too clean. Like someone scrubbed it, Kazama thought as he rubbed his chin.
Something glinted across the street. What is that ? Something those guys dropped maybe ?
Kazama started to move towards it when a figure stepped into his path. A man in a black leather jacket, hands in his pockets, staring directly at him. On the jacket's shoulder was an emblem: a stylized shield with the number 47 on it.
Kazama's expression hardened. A ranked hero. Great.
Kujou Tanaka, Japan's 47th-ranked hero, tilted his head slightly as he smiled.