The threatening message stayed with me for days.
Even though I dismissed it like nothing, I couldn't completely forget about it since anything was possible in the world with superpowers.
Every shadow felt like a warning and every stranger a potential threat.
But nothing happened.
There were no follow-up messages, no real confrontations and no mysterious figures.
Just silence which somehow felt worse.
One Week Later – Morning
Hana was running late for school.
She scrambled around the apartment, looking for her homework.
"It was right here!" she said, frantically searching through papers.
I found it under the futon. "Here."
"Thank you!" She grabbed it, shoved it in her bag. "I have to go. See you tonight!"
The door slammed and silence returned.
I sat at the low table, staring at my hands.
The training with Masaru was helping slowly. I could hold objects now without destroying them. Most of the time.
But that wasn't enough.
I needed money. The rent was due in two weeks and we had maybe ten thousand yen left that Hana kept safe. Still, it wasn't even close to the fifty thousand we owed.
The landlord had stopped by yesterday. He threatened eviction yet again.
Hana didn't know how bad it was.
I kept it from her by telling her lies that I've arranged some cash.
But I couldn't ignore it anymore.
I pulled out my phone and opened the message from Masaru about the repair shop job.
Me: "Still need help at the shop?"
The reply came fast.
Masaru: "Yeah. Boss said you can start today if you want. After school?"
Me: "I'll be there."
School – Lunch Period
I sat on the rooftop alone.
Eating rice balls that Hana made. She'd used the last of the pickled plums.
I needed to buy more groceries and add it to the list of things that required money I didn't have.
Suddenly, I heard some footsteps. I turned.
A girl stood in the doorway. Short. Maybe 5'4". Black hair in a ponytail. Sharp eyes behind thin-framed glasses.
She looked familiar. Same class, maybe? I'd never paid attention.
"Yamamoto Kaito?" she said.
I nodded. "Yeah?"
"I'm Tanaka Rin. Class president." She walked closer. "You missed three assignments this month. Two makeup exams. And you've been absent four times."
I blinked. "Okay?"
"Your grades are dropping. If this continues, you'll be held back."
Amazing. Another problem.
"I've been dealing with stuff," I said carefully.
"Personal issues?" Her expression softened slightly. "I heard about your parents. I'm sorry."
Word traveled fast in small schools.
"I'm managing," I said.
"Are you?" She sat down, uninvited, and pulled out a folder. "Your teachers are concerned. They think you might drop out."
"I'm not dropping out."
"Then prove it." She handed me the folder. "Makeup work. All the assignments you missed. Complete them by next week, and you'll be caught up."
I took the folder. It was thick like way too thick.
"Why do you care?" I asked.
She adjusted her glasses. "Because students who fall behind don't usually recover. They spiral. Drop out. End up in worse situations."
She stood.
"You're smart, Yamamoto. Your test scores from last year prove it. But something changed this year. I don't know what. And I won't pry."
She turned to leave.
"But don't waste your potential."
The door closed behind her.
I stared at the folder.
Potential.
If only she knew the kind I had.
Tanaka Repair Shop – 5:47 PM
The shop was small.
Cluttered. Tools everywhere. Broken appliances stacked in corners. The smell of oil and metal.
An old man sat behind the counter. Seventy, maybe. Gray hair. Weathered hands. A cigarette dangling from his lips.
"You Kaito?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Masaru says you need work."
"I do."
He studied me. "You know anything about repairs?"
"No."
"Honest. Good." He stubbed out the cigarette. "I'll teach you. Pay is hourly. Cash. Under the table. No questions asked."
Perfect.
"When do I start?"
"Now." He gestured to a pile of broken toasters. "Sort those. Working from broken. Stack by the wall."
I got to work.
Two Hours Later
My hands ached but not from the work. From holding back.
Every toaster I picked up required concentration. Every movement calculated.
Don't crush it. Don't break it.
By the end of two hours, I'd sorted thirty toasters.
The old man—Mr. Tanaka—watched from the counter.
"Not bad," he said. "Slow. But careful. I like that."
He handed me an envelope. Three thousand yen.
"Come back tomorrow."
I nodded. "Thank you."
Outside, Masaru was waiting.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
"Got hired."
"Told you the old man would like you." He grinned. "Ready for training?"
I looked at my hands. Still steady. No tremors.
"Yeah. Let's go."
Training Ground – 7:32 PM
Masaru had brought sandbags this time.
Five of them. Each labeled with a weight.
10 kg. 20 kg. 30 kg. 40 kg. 50 kg.
"Lift the 10 kg," he said. "Walk ten meters. Don't drop it. Don't crush it."
I picked up the bag and then walked.
One step. Two. Three.
The bag held and by the fifth step, my concentration wavered.
The bag compressed slightly.
I stopped and then reset.
Then, continuing, I reached the ten meter goal.
I set the bag down gently.
Masaru clapped. "Perfect. Now the 20 kg."
One Hour Later
I managed the 20 kg and failed the 30 kg.
The bag split open. Sand poured onto the concrete.
"That's okay," Masaru said. "You're pushing your limits. That's how you grow."
I stared at the sand.
Growing.
That was the problem.
I wasn't growing. I was just learning to suppress what I already had.
And what I had was—
Too much.
"Again?" Masaru asked, holding another bag.
I shook my head. "I'm done for today."
He nodded. "Fair. Same time tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
He left. I stayed.
Stood in the center of the lot. All alone.
The sun had set and streetlights flickered on. The city glowed in the distance.
I made a fist.
I want to throw a punch.
The thought was dangerous.
Tempting.
What would happen if I punched at full strength? What would break? How far would the shockwave travel?
Would I level a city block?
A district?
I didn't know.
And I was terrified to find out.
My phone buzzed.
Hana: "When are you coming home? I made dinner."
I smiled.
Texted back: "On my way."
I then pocketed the phone and took one last look at the training ground.
This place—these rusted swings, this cracked concrete—was where Kaito trained two years ago.
Where he dreamed of being a hero.
Before his parents sold him out.
I'll carry your dream, I thought. Even if I'm not you.
I turned and walked toward home.
Apartment – 9:14 PM
Dinner was simple.
Rice with miso soup and a small piece of grilled fish.
Hana had used the money I gave her from the repair shop to buy groceries.
"You didn't have to work," she said quietly. "I could've—"
"I wanted to," I said. "Besides, it's good. Keeps me busy."
She nodded but didn't look convinced.
We ate in silence.
Afterward, she washed dishes while I worked on the makeup assignments.
Math. History. Quirk Theory.
The Quirk Theory assignment caught my attention.
"Explain the relationship between emotional stress and Quirk manifestation. Provide examples."
I thought about it.
Midoriya manifested One For All under extreme pressure.
Todoroki's ice and fire were tied to his trauma.
Bakugo's explosions matched his volatile personality.
Quirks weren't just powers.
They were extensions of the self.
Emotional. Psychological. Physical.
But what about me?
Saitama's power was tied to extreme obsession. In fact, everyone in his world who had power got it through mad obsession towards a goal.
Was my power tied to the same? If yes, then how?
Because, this power doesn't look or feel like a quirk since I've seen so many of them in the manga.
This power that I have doesn't feel like the part of my body, heck, it doesn't even feel like I have something.
I dropped any further thinking and wrote a generic answer about stress triggering adrenaline responses. Handed in the completed assignment pile by the door.
Hana emerged from the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel.
"Nii-san?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
The question caught me off guard.
"Why do you ask?"
"You seem… different. Since the disaster." She sat down across from me. "You used to be tired all the time. Quiet. Now you're still quiet, but… focused. Like you're training for something."
Perceptive.
"I'm fine," I said. "Just trying to be better. For us."
She smiled. But it felt sad.
"You're already the best Nii-san I could ask for."
My chest tightened.
"Get some sleep. You have school tomorrow."
She nodded and headed to the futon.
I stayed at the table, staring at my reflection in the darkened window.
Black hair with tired eyes. A face that wasn't mine.
Just… someone caught between worlds.
Carrying secrets I couldn't share.
And a power I couldn't control.
I clenched my fist.
One step at a time.
That's all I could do.
Until I figured out what I was supposed to become.
TO BE CONTINUED...