Chapter 05: The Weight of Protection
Kaito turned six. He was a year away from starting elementary school, a prospect that filled Aoi with a quiet, constant thrum of anxiety.
One bright Tuesday, she took him downtown. Kaito, small for his age, wore a simple white bucket hat that covered his inky black hair. A small, bright blue backpack, adorned with a cartoon rocket, was strapped to his shoulders. Aoi herself wore an elegant, wide-brimmed hat, holding her handbag in one hand and Kaito's small hand firmly in the other.
She paused on the bustling sidewalk, looking up. The building was modern, glass and steel, with a polished sign above the door: Quirk Control and Rehabilitation Center.
The director's office was professional and clean, smelling faintly of lemon polish and new carpet. Aoi sat stiffly in the chair, Kaito sitting quietly beside her, his violet-tinged eyes "watching" the patterns of energy in the room.
"I absolutely guarantee it, Mrs. Kurosawa," the director, a man with a sharp suit and an overly practiced smile, said from behind his large mahogany desk. "Our 'Integration First' program is second to none. It will help your son integrate seamlessly with society and prevent his... whatever his ability may be... from emerging uncontrolled and causing harm to his peers or the community."
Aoi's eyebrow twitched. "Are you planning to talk much longer, even though I haven't told you a single thing about my son?"
The director's smile faltered, replaced by a quick, professional cough. "My apologies. I do get ahead of myself when presenting our services. Please, tell me about young Kaito."
Aoi took a breath, placing a protective hand on Kaito's shoulder. "Kaito is blind," she began. The director's smile froze. "He does not see things as we do. He cannot see colors, or light. For the first four years of his life, the world was... difficult."
She continued, "When he turned four, his first ability appeared. He can now 'see' the world around him, but as specters. Energy, perhaps. I honestly do not know how he perceives the world." She paused. "Then, his second ability appeared on the same day. He can control... things. Remotely. He can make them light enough to float, or heavy enough to crush. My husband insists it's related to gravity."
She leaned forward slightly. "This power doesn't just apply to objects. It applies to him. We have found him floating against his bedroom ceiling many times. Other times, he has suddenly become so heavy that his weight has cracked the wooden floorboards in our home."
The director's professional mask had vanished, replaced by genuine, wide-eyed astonishment. He leaned back in his chair. "Goodness. That's... Why, that sounds like the origin story of a very successful hero."
Aoi's expression immediately hardened. "I would prefer if you did not fill my son's head with those ideas. I have absolutely no plans to make him a hero."
The director's features flickered, the businessman returning. "Of course. Understood, Mrs. Kurosawa," he said smoothly, picking up a pen. "My apologies. I will take note of everything you've told me regarding his abilities. I promise, we will do our utmost to help him integrate both his Quirks and himself into society this year."
"I am worried about the other children, yes," Aoi admitted, her voice lowering. "But my biggest concern is Kaito himself. I am terrified he will... float away into the sky, or make himself too heavy to move."
"I understand your concern completely," the director said, his tone now reassuring. He stood, walked around the desk, and knelt slightly in front of Kaito. He gently patted the boy's hat. "Kaito-kun. You'll start with us tomorrow, on a daily basis. You won't be alone. There are many other children here just like you. Don't you worry."
Aoi, feeling a small knot of tension release, thanked him. After registering Kaito's information and paying the exorbitant enrollment fee, they left the office.
They were back on the sidewalk. Cars rushed past, and the sounds of the city—conversations, footsteps, distant sirens—washed over them. Kaito's "vision" was a chaotic sea of warm, bright specters (the people) and cool, dim shapes (the buildings).
"Do you want to get some ice cream?" Aoi asked, her voice light.
Kaito was quiet for a long moment, walking beside her. The sounds of the city filled the silence.
"Mom?" he asked, his tone impossibly calm and clear.
"Yes, Kaito?"
"Don't you... trust me?"
Aoi stopped walking. The question was so sudden, so precise, it felt like a physical blow. Kaito remained silent, his head tilted as if listening to the bustle of the street. Aoi looked forward, her grip on his small hand tightening, just slightly.
"It's not that I don't trust you, sweetheart," she said, her voice strained. "But I want... I need to protect you. You need that protection, especially at this stage of your life."
"Then why do you refuse the hero path?" he asked. "Won't I be older then?"
Aoi's breath hitched. "Kaito, my only goal is to protect you. The path of a hero is paved with danger."
She started walking again, pulling him gently along, the conversation over.
That night, Haru sat on Kaito's bed. "Scared, son?"
Kaito, sensing his father's warm, familiar energy, shook his head. "No. Mom is scared."
Haru chuckled softly. "She is. But that's her job. My job... is to tell you to have fun." He ruffled Kaito's hair. "Go show them what you've got."
The next morning, Kaito put on his white hat, adjusted his backpack, and took his mother's hand, ready for his first day.
.
.
.