The school day dragged.
Every class felt like an eternity.
Teachers talked and students whispered. I sat in the back and tried not to think about how easily I could put my fist through the desk.
Control.
That was the problem. Something happened and now I couldn't control my powers properly.
It was probably the display of controlled strength yesterday.
Now, every movement had to be calculated.
Walking without leaving footprints in the floor, holding a pencil without snapping it in half. And opening a door without ripping it off its hinges.
Simple things, now made impossible.
By the time the final bell rang, my head was pounding. Not from pain but from concentration.
I packed my bag—carefully—and left before anyone could talk to me.
Not that they would.
Kaito had been invisible. A quirkless nobody. The kind of kid people looked through, not at.
The Old Training Ground – 4:47 PM
The vacant lot was exactly where I remembered.
Wait. Where Kaito remembered.
I'm still not through the body change phase.
The memory had come to me during lunch. Fuzzy at first, then sharper, like watching someone else's home video.
Rusted playground equipment. Cracked concrete. Weeds pushing through every gap. An old basketball hoop with no net, bent at an angle.
This place had been abandoned for years. Perfect for kids who couldn't afford real training facilities.
I walked through the entrance, a gap in a chain-link fence, and stopped. Someone was already there.
A boy. Tall. Maybe seventeen. Lean but muscular. White hair tied back in a short ponytail. Sharp eyes and a scar across his left eyebrow.
He leaned against the basketball hoop, arms crossed, watching me.
"You're late," he said.
I checked my phone. 4:47 PM.
"You said after school."
"I said don't be late."
I stared at him. "Who are you?"
His expression shifted. First surprise, then something darker.
"What kind of question is that?"
Damn. Wrong move.
If this guy knew Kaito, I just revealed I didn't remember him.
I recovered quickly. "Hit my head during the disaster. Memory's fuzzy."
The lie came easily.
Too easily.
He studied me for a long moment and then nodded slowly.
"Explains why you look like you've seen a ghost."
He pushed off the hoop and walked closer.
"Masaru. We trained together. Two years ago. Before your Quirk…" He paused. "Before you lost it."
Lost it?
I kept my face neutral. "Right. Masaru."
He stopped a few feet away. "You really don't remember?"
"Pieces. Not everything."
He sighed and ran a hand through his white hair.
"We were kids. Stupid kids. You had a strength Quirk. Nothing crazy. Enough to lift maybe twice your body weight. We thought we'd be heroes together."
My chest tightened. Kaito had a Quirk and lost it.
"What happened?" I asked.
Masaru's jaw tightened. "Quirk Erasure Syndrome. Some genetic defect. Your power just… stopped working. Doctors said it was permanent."
Quirk Erasure Syndrome.
I'd heard of it somewhere on the internet in my old life while searching through MHA fan pages. Rare condition. Less than 1% of the population has it.
It's basically people who developed Quirks and then lost them. Usually permanent.
"You stopped coming here after that," Masaru continued. "Stopped answering messages. I figured you'd given up."
He looked at me.
"So imagine my surprise when I see footage of some kid punching a villain through a building. And that kid looks exactly like my old training partner."
My blood ran cold.
"The footage was blurry," I said carefully.
"Blurry enough that most people wouldn't recognize you." He stepped closer. "But I would."
We stood there. Silent. The wind rustled through dead grass.
"Your Quirk came back," he said. "Didn't it?"
I could lie. In fact, I should lie.
But something in his eyes—desperation, hope—stopped me.
"Yeah," I said. "It came back."
His face lit up. "I knew it. I knew the doctors were wrong." He grabbed my shoulders. "Do you know what this means? You could reapply to hero schools. You could still—"
"I can't control it."
The words stopped him cold.
I pulled away from his grip.
"It's not the same as before. It's stronger. Way stronger. And I can't turn it down."
"What do you mean?"
I looked around. Found a brick in the rubble. Picked it up.
"Watch."
I closed my hand. The brick exploded into dust.
Masaru's eyes went wide.
"I wasn't even trying," I said, letting the powder fall through my fingers. "That's the problem. Everything I touch, I have to concentrate just to not destroy it."
I turned to face him.
"I can't go to a hero school like this. I'd kill someone by accident."
Masaru stared at the dust. Then at me.
"Then we train."
"What?"
"We train," he repeated. "Like we used to. You learn control. I help you."
I shook my head. "You don't understand. This isn't just a strong Quirk. It's—"
"Overwhelming? Terrifying? Too much power and not enough experience?" He smirked.
"Sounds like every hero's origin story."
"This is different."
"How?"
I didn't answer. Because how could I explain?
How could I tell him that this wasn't Kaito's Quirk returning? That it was something else entirely?
Something that didn't belong in this world?
"Just trust me," Masaru said. "We'll start small. Basic exercises. You'll figure it out."
I looked at him.
This stranger who knew Kaito.
Who believed in him.
Who still thought they could be heroes together.
What would Kaito do? I didn't know.
But I knew what I needed.
Control. Training.
Someone who wouldn't ask too many questions.
"Fine," I said. "But we do this my way."
Masaru grinned. "Deal."
Thirty Minutes Later
We started simple.
A metal pipe.
Masaru handed it to me. "Hold it. Don't crush it."
I took it.
Concentrated.
Light grip. Gentle. Like holding an egg.
The pipe crumpled in my hand.
"Again," Masaru said.
He handed me another.
I tried. Failed. Again. And again.
By the tenth pipe, I wanted to scream.
"This isn't working," I muttered.
Masaru crouched beside the pile of twisted metal. "You're thinking too hard."
"I have to think. If I don't—"
"If you don't, you'll act on instinct. And right now, your instincts are the problem."
I stared at him.
He stood and dusted off his hands.
"Your Quirk is strength and its just a bunch of raw power. But power without control is just destruction."
"Thanks for the philosophy lesson."
He ignored the sarcasm.
"Close your eyes."
"What?"
"Close them."
I did.
"Now. Stop thinking about the pipe. Think about something else. Something calm."
I tried.
Images flashed of my old life. The truck and the darkness.
"Focus on your breathing," Masaru said. "In. Out. Nothing else."
I breathed.
In. Out.
The tension in my shoulders eased.
"Now open your hand."
I did. Something light touched my palm.
"Hold it."
I closed my fingers. Slowly and carefully.
"Open your eyes."
I looked down. It was a leaf. A fully Intact leaf.
I stared.
"See?" Masaru said. "You can control it. You just need to stop overthinking."
I held the leaf up to the fading sunlight.
I did it.
I actually did it.
It wasn't much.
But it was progress.
Masaru clapped me on the shoulder. "That's step one. Tomorrow, we'll try something harder."
"Tomorrow?"
"You said we're doing this your way. My way includes daily training." He grinned.
"Unless you've got something better to do?"
I thought about the empty apartment and the unpaid bills. Hana waiting alone.
"I have to work," I said. "For rent money."
His grin faded. "Your parents still…?"
"Gone."
He nodded slowly. "Right. I forgot."
An awkward silence settled between us.
"I worked part-time at a repair shop," Masaru said. "Owner's always looking for help. I could ask."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." He met my eyes. "You were my friend, Kaito. Maybe I wasn't there when you needed me. But I'm here now."
I'm not Kaito, I wanted to say.
I'm someone else. A stranger. An impostor.
But the words wouldn't come.
Instead, I said, "Thanks."
He nodded.
We stood there as the sun dipped below the buildings.
Two kids in an abandoned lot.
One with a secret and one with hope.
Walking Home – 7:23 PM
The streets were darker now. Streetlights flickered on one by one.
I walked slowly, thinking about the leaf.
Control.
That was the key.
If I could hold a leaf, I could hold other things.
Eventually. Maybe.
My phone buzzed. I gently pulled it out.
A message from Hana: "Dinner's ready. I made curry."
I smiled.
Texted back: "Be there in ten."
The apartment building came into view.
Lights glowed in unit 402. Hana was waiting.
I climbed the stairs—carefully, always carefully—and opened the door.
Warm air and the smell of curry. A small girl with a big smile.
"Welcome home, Nii-san."
I smiled back.
"I'm home."
TO BE CONTINUED....