Recovery Girl's office was packed.
Midoriya sat on the bed, arm wrapped in bandages. His face was pale but determined. Uraraka hovered nearby, worried. Bakugo leaned against the wall, scowling at nothing.
I stayed by the door.
Recovery Girl tapped her cane against the floor. "You children are reckless! This is training, not a war zone!"
"I'm sorry," Midoriya mumbled.
"Sorry doesn't fix broken bones!" She turned to Bakugo. "And you! What were you thinking with that explosion?"
Bakugo's jaw tightened. "He dodged. Not my problem he's slow."
"He's YOUR classmate!"
The lecture continued. I slipped out before anyone noticed.
The hallway was empty. Quiet. Footsteps echoed as I walked toward the locker room.
Midoriya broke his arm the same way as canon, I thought. Even with me there. Even with three villains instead of two.
Some things don't change.
I should've felt relieved. Canon was somewhat intact. The story would proceed normally.
Instead, I felt hollow.
Locker Room – Twenty Minutes Later
I changed back into my uniform. The yellow costume hung in my locker, cape folded neatly.
"Yo, Yamamoto!"
Kirishima entered, already changed. "That was intense, right? You did great!"
"Thanks."
"Two matches in one day! You must be exhausted." He grinned. "Wanna grab food? A bunch of us are hitting a burger place near the station."
I closed my locker. "Can't. I've got work."
"Work?" His grin faded. "You have a part-time job?"
"Yeah. Repair shop."
"Man, that's rough. Balancing school and work?" He shook his head. "You're tougher than you look."
No. Just desperate. I ended up not quitting my part-time job.
"It's fine," I said. "Keeps me busy."
Sero and Kaminari walked in, laughing about something.
"Yamamoto's got a job!" Kirishima announced. "Respect, dude!"
Kaminari whistled. "Seriously? How do you find time?"
"Early mornings. Weekends."
Sero nodded. "That's dedication. What kind of shop?"
"Electronics repair. Broken appliances. That kind of thing."
They asked more questions. I answered briefly. Politely. Then excused myself.
"See you tomorrow."
"Later, man!"
I left before the conversation could deepen.
Train Station – 5:47 PM
The platform was crowded with rush hour commuters. I found a spot near the edge and waited.
My phone buzzed.
Hana: "How was your first hero training?"
Me: "Good. I'll tell you about it at dinner."
Hana: "I made gyoza! Well, tried to. They're a little burnt."
I grinned.
Me: "Burnt gyoza sounds perfect."
The train arrived. I boarded, found a standing spot near the door.
My reflection stared back from the window.
Around me, students chatted about their days. Normal schools. Normal problems.
I was at UA. Training to be a hero. Fighting robot villains and wearing costumes.
Nothing about this was normal.
And yet—
It felt more real than anything I'd experienced in three months.
The training. The classmates. The challenges.
Repair Shop – 6:23 PM
Mr. Tanaka was smoking behind the counter when I arrived.
"You're late."
"Sorry. Training ran long."
He grunted. "UA, right? How was it?"
"Intense."
"Good. Heroes need intensity." He stubbed out the cigarette and gestured to a pile of broken microwaves. "Sort those. Test the ones that turn on. Junk the ones that don't."
I got to work.
The routine was calming yet again. Plug in. Test. Diagnose. Sort.
No costumes. No Quirks. No pretending.
Just broken machines and the quiet satisfaction of fixing them.
An hour passed.
The door chimed. A customer entered—middle-aged woman with a broken rice cooker.
Mr. Tanaka handled her while I continued sorting.
When she left, he walked over. Watched me work.
"You're getting better at this."
"Thanks."
"Better than most kids your age." He lit another cigarette. "You keep this up, you could make a real living doing repairs. It's a steady work and can get you good amount of money."
I set down a microwave. "I want to help people."
"Plenty of ways to help people. Don't need a hero license for that."
"Maybe. But this is the path I chose."
He studied me. Then nodded slowly.
"Fair enough. Just remember—heroes aren't the only ones who matter. Someone's gotta fix the microwaves after villains destroy them." He paused. "Door's always open here if you need it."
He walked back to the counter.
I returned to work, thinking about his words.
Heroes aren't the only ones who matter.
In my old world, I'd been nobody. A poor kid working three jobs. No powers. No recognition.
But I'd saved a child.
Died doing it.
Did that make me a hero?
Or just someone who reacted when it mattered?
Walking Home – 8:34 PM
The streets were darker now. Autumn settling in. Leaves scattered across sidewalks.
I stopped at a convenience store and bought instant ramen and a carton of milk with today's wages.
The cashier barely looked at me. Just scanned the items and took the money.
Invisible.
Exactly how I needed to be.
Outside, I checked my phone. Messages from the class group chat.
Kirishima: "Everyone did awesome today! Let's keep pushing ourselves!"
Ashido: "I can't believe Todoroki froze an entire building! That's insane!"
Kaminari: "Bakugo almost killed Midoriya tho. That was NOT cool."
Jiro: "All Might chewed him out pretty hard. Completely deserved."
I scrolled through without responding. Read and observed. But didn't engage.
Distance.
That's what I needed to maintain.
Close enough to blend in. Far enough to avoid attachments.
My phone buzzed. Different notification. Unknown number.
I stopped walking.
Opened the message.
"Impressive performance today. Two matches. Two wins. You're adapting well. But don't get comfortable. We're still watching."
My grip tightened.
"Especially that little sister of yours. She walks home alone from school, doesn't she? Such a dangerous world for a twelve-year-old girl."
Blood pounded in my ears.
I typed fast: "Touch her and I'll find you."
Sent.
The reply came immediately.
"There it is. The anger. The power you're hiding. When the time is right, we'll take everything."
The message deleted itself.
I stared at the empty screen.
Breathing hard.
Fists clenched.
They threatened Hana.
Again.
The street around me felt too quiet. Every shadow a potential threat. Every stranger a possible enemy.
I force myself to breathe and to think.
Anger won't help her. Information will.
Nezu… he's an option. Maybe the only real one.
But asking him to house my sister at U.A.? That's practically begging him to dissect my motives.
And I don't even have all the answers myself—not about my power, not about the bastards after us.
So I'll shoulder this for now. Protect her alone, as long as I can.
When the line finally breaks…
Then I'll ask for help.
I pocketed the phone and walked faster.
Apartment – 9:02 PM
Hana was washing dishes when I arrived.
"Welcome home! I saved you some gyoza. They're only a little burnt."
I looked at her. Innocent. Unaware of the threats hovering over us.
"Thanks," I said, dropping the groceries on the counter. "How was school?"
"Boring. Math test tomorrow. I hate fractions."
"You'll do fine."
She dried her hands and pulled out a plate. Six misshapen gyoza. Definitely burnt on one side.
"I followed the recipe but the pan got too hot."
I took a bite. Crispy. Slightly charred. But edible.
"That's so good."
She beamed.
We ate together in comfortable silence. She talked about her friends. About a stray cat she'd seen. About wanting to join the art club.
Normal things.
Safe things.
Things worth protecting.
When she fell asleep later, I sat by the window.
Staring at the city lights.
Thinking about the threats.
About the people watching.
I need to start becoming proactive.
Find them before they find me.
But how?
I had no leads. No names. No faces.
Just anonymous messages and vague warnings.
Wait a second—
I could totally ask Yuki and she won't even pry as much as Nezu.
The hacker who'd found Kaito's files.
She could trace the messages and find an IP address. A location. Something.
I pulled out my phone and started typing.
Me: "Need another favor. Can you trace anonymous messages?"
The reply took five minutes.
Yuki: "Depends. How anonymous?"
Me: "Burner phones. Self-deleting messages."
Yuki: "That's... really anonymous. Professional level. But I can try. Forward me the next message as soon as you get it."
Me: "Thanks."
Yuki: "Kaito. Be careful. Whoever this is, they're not amateurs."
I closed the chat.
Stared at the phone.
Not amateurs.
Yeah. They weren't.
They erased my medical files. Threatened a guy with broken power and established a coordinated surveillance.
This was organized and dangerous. By their manner of speaking, it feels like they control a nuclear bomb or something. Because I doubt that it is the only thing that can keep me contained.
Next Morning – UA Classroom
The day started normally.
Aizawa explained hero law. Students took notes. Midoriya's hand shot up every few minutes with questions.
I sat in the back. Listening and cautiously observing.
During lunch, I went to the roof instead of the cafeteria.
Sat alone. Ate a convenience store sandwich.
Watched clouds drift across the sky.
"Mind if I join you?"
I turned.
Todoroki stood there. Expressionless as always.
"Go ahead."
He sat down, maintaining a respectful distance. Pulled out his own lunch—a bento box, neatly arranged.
We ate in silence.
Then he spoke.
"Your Quirk. Kinetic Boost."
I glanced at him. "Yeah?"
"It's similar to Midoriya's. Stockpiling energy. Releasing it in bursts."
Dangerous topic.
"I guess."
"But yours seems more controlled. You don't destroy your body using it."
"Practice," I said simply.
He nodded. Didn't press further.
We finished eating in silence.
Before he left, he said, "You're strong. But you hold back."
I met his eyes. "What makes you say that?"
"I can tell. Your movements during the battle trial. They felt calculated and restrained." His expression didn't change. "You're hiding something, aren't you?"
My pulse quickened.
"Everyone's hiding something," I said carefully.
He studied me for a long moment.
Then stood. "Fair enough."
He walked away.
I sat there, heart pounding.
Todoroki noticed.
If he noticed, others might too.
I need to be more careful.
More convincing.
The bell rang.
I stood and headed back to class.
Except now, someone was watching.
And not just the people sending threats.
TO BE CONTINUED...