"Not healing. Healing implies scarring and recovery time."
She lifted a tablet, tapping a few images open.
"What your body did is closer to reconstruction."
Dr. Ishikawa turned the tablet toward him.
Yuta blinked.
The picture on-screen was—
…a corpse.
Or close enough.
Skin sloughed off. Entire patches missing.
Muscle torn, charred, shredded.
Bones visible in ways bones were not meant to be visible.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
"That's me?"
"That was you," the doctor corrected. "Seventy-two hours ago. Your organs were shutting down, your circulatory system was a disaster. Bone marrow damage, internal bleeding—frankly, you should've gone into full-blown cardiac arrest before the ambulance even reached Machida's outskirts."
She returned her attention to Yuta.
"And yet—"
She gestured to him again, this time broadly.
"You're here. Awake. With intact skin. I've read your file, and despite the vast difference, I can only conclude that this was a result of your quirk keeping you from death."
Yuta swallowed.
"…I don't feel great."
"That's because your pain receptors are trying to unionize," she said dryly. "But compared to where you started? You're shockingly stable."
He hesitated.
"Can I… see?"
She understood immediately.
Without a word, she reached into a cabinet, retrieved a hand mirror, and placed it in his palm.
Yuta took a breath—slow, careful—then angled the mirror.
His reflection stared back.
Paler than usual.
Eyes slightly sunken.
Hair a mess.
But… He looked— Normal.
"Anyway, your vitals stabilized last night, so we moved you out of critical care. You're in Machida General now." A sigh. "Small miracles and large paperwork made that happen."
Yuta frowned.
"Machida…?"
His eyes suddenly widened.
"Wait—does my mom—?"
"Yes."
The single word hit him harder than Overhaul ever could.
"She's been here the entire time," Dr. Ishikawa added. "Hasn't left except to use the restroom and meet with officials."
Yuta's stomach dropped.
"Oh no."
"Oh yes."
"She's going to kill me."
"She seemed more concerned with keeping you alive, actually."
Dr. Ishikawa stepped aside and pointed to the glass wall.
There—just outside—
His mother, asleep in a wheelchair.
A thin blanket draped over her.
Her head resting against her hand.
Breathing softly, exhaustion pulling at every line of her face.
Yuta's throat tightened painfully.
"She shouldn't be—"
Ishikawa cut in."she wouldn't leave. Not even when we insisted. She rolled herself here despite two nurses begging her not to travel alone."
"That… sounds like her."
"Terrifying woman," Ishikawa agreed. Then stepped back toward the door. "We'll update you on your injuries once you're more alert. For now? Don't move. Don't twist. Don't sit up. Don't be clever, and don't pass out again—we're low on IV lines."
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be." Dr. Ishikawa left. The door clicked shut. Silence. Yuta stared through the glass at his mother. She looked smaller than he remembered. Thinner.
The blanket had slipped halfway off her shoulder, and no one had fixed it.
'Three days.'
Three days she'd been here. Waiting. Watching. Probably blaming herself for not noticing something sooner.
His chest felt tight.
He tried to sit up.
Pain lanced through his torso immediately—sharp, vicious, and completely unforgiving.
He collapsed back with a hiss.
"Okay. Bad idea. Very bad idea."
He lay there, breathing carefully, staring at the ceiling.
The door opened again.
Yuta's head turned slightly.
A nurse—the same one from earlier—stepped in quietly, glancing at him.
"Oh. You're still awake."
"Barely."
She walked over to check the IV line, then paused.
"…Do you want me to wake her?"
Yuta hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yeah. Please."
The nurse stepped outside.
Through the glass, Yuta watched her gently touch his mother's shoulder.
Aiko stirred.
Blinked.
Sat up—too fast—winced—then turned her head toward the room.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Aiko was wheeling herself forward, hands gripping the wheels with more force than necessary.
The nurse opened the door.
Aiko rolled in.
She stopped beside his bed, hands folded tightly in her lap.
Her eyes were red-rimmed. Her hair was a mess. She looked like she hadn't slept properly in days.
Because she hadn't.
"Yuta."
"…Hi, Mom."
For a long moment, she just stared at him.
Then she reached out—slowly, carefully—and placed her hand on top of his.
Her fingers were cold.
"Three days," she whispered.
"I .. heard." He said while evading her gaze. "Look at me."
".."
He obeyed. Her eyes were watering now.
"I thought I lost you."
"…I'm sorry."
She closed her eyes.
Breathed.
"Don't you ever—ever—do that to me again."
Yuta's throat tightened.
"I'll try."
"That's not good enough."
"…I know."
She wiped her eyes quickly, like she was angry at herself for crying.
Silence settled between them for a moment.
Then Aiko's expression hardened.
"What happened?"
Yuta looked away.
"…It's complicated."
"Uncomplicate it."
He exhaled slowly.
"I don't remember much," he said quietly. "Just… I saw a kid. She looked terrified. And I couldn't—"
He paused.
"I couldn't find the strength to leave her there."
Aiko's hand tightened on his.
He could feel it—the faint hum of her quirk. She was reading him, and he could make a good guess why.
But it didn't matter.
Because technically, it wasn't a lie.
Eri's situation was exactly as he'd described. Any guilt or nervousness she picked up could be attributed to him feeling bad about lying on the phone. About putting himself in danger. About making her worry.
Not about killing someone.
Aiko's expression softened.
Just slightly.
"…The girl," she said quietly. "Eri."
Yuta nodded.
"Is she okay?"
Aiko hesitated.
"Physically, yes. The doctors cleared her." She paused. "Emotionally… she's traumatized, Yuta. She won't speak to anyone. Won't eat unless someone sits with her. She's been through hell."
Yuta's jaw tightened.
Aiko watched him carefully.
"I met her," she continued. "She's sweet. Scared. But sweet."
She squeezed his hand.
"I understand why you couldn't walk away."
Yuta glanced at her.
"…But?"
"But you're fifteen," Aiko said firmly. "You could have died. You almost died."
"I know."
"And yet you'd do it again, wouldn't you?"
Yuta didn't answer.
Aiko's expression crumpled slightly.
"You're just like your father," she whispered.
Yuta blinked.
"…What?"
She lifted her head, eyes wet.
"Reckless. Stubborn. Too brave for your own good." She squeezed his hand. "He would've done the same thing."
Yuta didn't know what to say.
Aiko wiped her eyes again and straightened.
"We'll talk more later. Right now—" She gave him a look. "—we need to discuss why you lied to me on the phone."
Yuta groaned.
"Can we skip that part?"
"Absolutely not."
"Worth a shot."
Aiko's expression shifted—something between amusement and exasperation.
"So. The girl you were supposedly spending time with."
Yuta wanted to sink through the floor.
"Mom—"
"Was she imaginary? Or did she conveniently vanish into thin air after you walked her home to another city?"
"I—it wasn't—look, I panicked, okay?"
"Clearly."
"You were interrogating me."
"I was concerned."
"Same thing!"
Aiko raised an eyebrow.
"So you invented a romantic interest to throw me off?"
"…Yes."
She stared at him.
Then, despite everything, she laughed.
"You're terrible at lying, you know that?"
"I'm aware."
She shook her head, still smiling.
"You're lucky you're alive. Otherwise I'd kill you myself."
"Noted."
The smile faded slightly.
"Yuta… next time you're in trouble, tell me. Don't lie. Don't hide. Just tell me."
He nodded.
"…Okay."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
Aiko exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
She opened her mouth to say something else—
—when a knock came from the door.
Both of them turned.
Two figures stepped in when the nurse slid the door open: a tall man in a dark coat and a shorter woman with sharp eyes and a notebook already in hand.
"Mr. Akutami," he said politely. "I'm Detective Hoshino. This is Detective Tanabe. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
Yuta's stomach sank.
Aiko's face frowned.
"He just woke up," she said firmly. "Can't this wait?"
Hoshino's expression remained neutral.
"Unfortunately, no. This is regarding an ongoing investigation. The sooner we speak with him, the better."
Aiko's jaw set.
"He's barely stable—"
"We'll be brief," Tanabe said. Her tone was softer, but no less insistent. "And we can have medical staff present if needed."
Yuta glanced at his mother.
Then back at the detectives.
"…It's fine, Mom."
"Yuta—"
"I'll answer their questions."
Aiko looked like she wanted to argue. But she didn't. She just squeezed his hand once more, then released it.
"I'm staying," she said flatly.
Hoshino nodded.
"That's acceptable."
They both pulled out notepads.
Hoshino's eyes settled on Yuta.
"Let's start simple," he said. "Can you tell us what happened three nights ago?"
Yuta swallowed.
'Here we go.'
He kept it short.
Simple, and as clean as he could make it. He'd activated his quirk the moment the questions started—subtle adjustments to his vocal cords, his facial muscles, his breathing rhythm.
Just enough to seem honest. Just enough to sell it.
"I slept past my stop," he said. "Hinohara. Woke up in Machida instead."
Hoshino scribbled something down.
"What time?"
"Around six. Maybe six ten."
"And you didn't take the next train back?"
"It wasn't coming for another forty minutes. I was hungry, so I went to get food while I waited."
Tanabe glanced up.
"Where?"
"Restaurant near the station. I don't remember the name."
She made a note.
"And that's when you encountered the girl?"
Yuta nodded.
"She was in an alley. Looked terrified. A man showed up right after."
"Can you describe him?"
"Mid-thirties. Brown hair. Wore gloves. A plague mask."
Hoshino's pen paused.
"A plague mask?"
"Yeah. Like… old-fashioned. Brown I think."
Tanabe and Hoshino exchanged a glance.
"What happened next?" Hoshino asked.
"He said she was his daughter," Yuta continued. "But she didn't look like she wanted to be there. She looked scared. Had bandages on. Most of all, she whispered for help. I thought they could be traffickers, and I couldn't just leave her," Yuta said. "So I tried to talk. He… didn't like that."
Aiko's hand tightened on the armrest of her wheelchair.
"And the man attacked you," Tanabe said.
"Yeah. Once he figured I wasn't going to just leave, he touched the ground. The pavement just—exploded. Spikes. Walls. He had the ability to reshape the entire terrain. He enclosed the space and trapped us in."
Hoshino's brow lifted slightly.
"That tracks with what we know of Kai Chisaki," he said. "Quirk name: Overhaul. Capable of deconstructing and reconstructing matter through touch."
Tanabe added, "But the scale you're describing is unusual."
Yuta shrugged weakly.
"He was angry."
Aiko's grip tightened.
"And your quirk?" Hoshino asked. "Your file doesn't indicate combat capability on that level."
Yuta met his gaze evenly.
"It's a new development. Haven't had time to update it."
"I see."
"Yeah. I grabbed Eri. Ran. Dodged what I could. Thought if I could get to the main street with enough people, he'd back off." Yuta paused. "But I couldn't escape. Then he touched me."
Aiko flinched.
Hoshino's expression didn't change.
"What happened when he touched you?"
Yuta's gaze dropped slightly.
"My body… started breaking down. Like it was being pulled apart from the inside."
"But you survived."
"Barely." Yuta's voice was quieter now. "My quirk—gives me more control than I thought. I managed to keep my body together. Enough to not die instantly."
Silence. Tanabe glanced at Hoshino. He looked back at Yuta. The kid's story checked out so far. They had seen the reports of his condition when he was brought to the hospital. The fact he was alive was a miracle of its own.
"Question. In that state, even if you survived, your body shouldn't have been able to fight back."
Yuta met his gaze.
"I didn't fight back. I just survived."
"Then how did Chisaki die?"
Yuta paused "... That means, he really did die. And here I thought I was seeing things." He groaned, while internally calculating what to say.
This was it. The critical moment.
"I don't know," he said slowly. "I was barely conscious. Everything was… blurry. But I remember—"
He paused, as if trying to recall. "—I saw him get hit. Like something invisible attacked him before he could kill me. Then I saw someone at the other end of the alley."
Hoshino straightened. "Someone else was there?" "Yeah. I think. It's hard to remember clearly."
"Can you describe them?"
Yuta frowned, as if struggling.
"Tall. Male, I think. Wore a mask. Covering the lower half of his face. White hair. And—" He touched the side of his eye. "—a scar. Here. On the left side."
Tanabe was writing furiously.
"What did he do?"
"I don't know. I passed out right after."
Hoshino exchanged another look with Tanabe.
"Why would this person kill Chisaki but leave you alive?"
Yuta squinted his eyes at them.
"I just explained what my situation was like. Do you think I would know why? Maybe he was a vigilante. Maybe he thought I was already dead. My guess is as good as yours."
Silence.
Hoshino tapped his pen against his notepad.
"We'll need a sketch artist."
Tanabe nodded.
"I'll call one in."
[FIVE MINUTES LATER]
The sketch artist—a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a tablet—sat beside the bed.
"Just describe what you remember," she said gently. "Take your time."
Yuta nodded.
"White hair. Messy. Spiky, maybe."
She sketched quickly.
"The mask?"
"Dark. Covered his nose and mouth. Like a ... I um ... A ninja mask."
Her stylus moved across the screen.
"The scar?"
"Thin. Vertical. Over his left eye."
She adjusted the lines.
"Anything else?"
Yuta hesitated.
".. um, slim facial features I guess. Not this fat." She nodded, finishing the sketch. Then turned the tablet toward him.
On the screen was a near-perfect recreation of Hatake Kakashi.
White hair. Mask. Scar over the left eye.
Yuta's eyebrows twitched—barely. He exhaled through his nose. "…Yeah," he said. "That's him."
Tanabe clicked her pen shut.
Hoshino nodded.
"We'll pursue this lead immediately. If you remember anything else—anything at all—contact us immediately."
Yuta nodded.
"I will."
'Not.'
They bowed politely.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Akutami," Hoshino said. "We'll be in touch."
They left.
The door clicked shut.
Silence.
Aiko stared at Yuta.
"…A masked vigilante?"
Yuta kept his expression neutral.
"That's what I saw."
Aiko didn't look convinced.
But she didn't push.
Not yet.
Yuta exhaled slowly, sinking back into the pillow.
'That was too close.'
But he'd done it.
He'd sold the lie.
Now he just had to hope they never found "Kakashi."
___
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