Chapter 9: The Woman Who Saw Potential
POV: Nova Asahi
Six months of hellish training had sculpted Nova's teenage body into something resembling functional machinery, but it had also carved hollow spaces in his daily routine that ached like phantom limbs. The grocery store checkout at 6 PM on a Wednesday felt like the loneliest place in the universe—surrounded by families buying ingredients for dinners he'd never share, couples arguing about meal plans for lives he'd never live.
"Parents overseas again this month?"
The clerk's voice carried the particular false sympathy that service workers reserved for obviously fabricated stories. Nova had been shopping here twice a week for six months, always alone, always buying single-portion meals and instant ramen that painted a depressing picture of his domestic situation.
"Work keeps them busy," Nova replied with practiced ease, handing over cash from his mysteriously well-funded bank account. "They send money, but time zones make communication difficult."
"Lies stacked on lies. The system's cover story is holding, but people are starting to notice patterns."
Behind him in line, a blonde woman with sharp red eyes shifted her weight impatiently, arms crossed over an expensive handbag that probably cost more than Nova's monthly food budget. She looked like money and confidence wrapped in designer clothing—the kind of person who never doubted her right to exist in whatever space she occupied.
"Excuse me," she said, and her voice carried the particular authority of someone accustomed to being heard. "Are you that boy Katsuki mentioned? The one training with the Midoriya kid?"
Nova's blood turned to ice water. He turned slowly, Enhanced Reflexes painting every detail in crystalline clarity: blonde hair cut in an asymmetrical bob, red eyes that missed nothing, perfect posture that radiated controlled aggression. Mitsuki Bakugo. Katsuki's mother. The woman who could unravel his entire carefully constructed existence with a few pointed questions.
"Stay calm. Act natural. She's fishing for information, not dropping accusations."
"I'm Nova Asahi," he said carefully, studying her face for signs of hostility or suspicion. "I train with Izuku sometimes, yes. Though I'm not sure Bakugo would describe it in particularly flattering terms."
Mitsuki's laugh was sharp enough to cut glass. "That brat doesn't describe anything in flattering terms. But he mentioned you've been clearing that beach together for months. Said you're not completely useless, which from Katsuki counts as glowing praise."
The checkout clerk cleared his throat meaningfully, and Nova realized he was holding up the line. He grabbed his bags—frozen dinners and energy drinks, the dietary staples of someone with no time for proper nutrition—and stepped aside.
Mitsuki followed him.
"You shop here often?" she asked, eyes tracking over his purchases with the analytical precision of a detective examining evidence. "Always alone?"
"My schedule doesn't really align with other people's," Nova said, which was technically true even if it omitted the relevant details about vigilante patrols and secret training regimens.
"Your parents work overseas, right?" Mitsuki's tone was conversational, but her gaze had turned laser-focused. "Must be lonely, cooking for yourself every night. Eating convenience store food instead of real meals."
"She knows. Somehow, she knows the parent story is fabricated. But instead of calling me out, she's... what? Concerned?"
"I manage fine," Nova said, defensive instincts kicking in despite his attempts to stay calm. "I'm not some charity case who needs—"
"Who needs what? A decent meal? Someone to make sure you're not slowly starving yourself on instant ramen and energy drinks?" Mitsuki stepped closer, and Nova caught the scent of expensive perfume mixed with something that might have been gun oil. "Kid, I've been watching you for five minutes and I can already tell you're running yourself into the ground."
She wasn't wrong. Six months of All Might's training combined with nightly patrols had left Nova's body in a constant state of controlled exhaustion. He'd gained muscle and lost weight in equal measure, his frame carrying the lean hardness of someone pushed beyond normal human limits on a regular basis.
"I'm fine," he insisted, but even to his own ears the words sounded hollow.
Mitsuki's expression shifted from suspicion to something that might have been maternal concern. "No, you're not. And you know what? I don't need to know the details of whatever situation has a kid your age living alone and shopping for sad frozen dinners. But I'll be damned if I let it continue."
"What is happening right now? Is Bakugo's mother trying to adopt me?"
"I appreciate the concern," Nova said carefully, "but I really am managing—"
"I'm coming to your apartment," Mitsuki announced with the finality of a court judgment. "Right now. To see exactly what kind of 'managing' you think passes for acceptable living conditions."
"You can't just—"
"Watch me."
Nova's apartment had never felt smaller or more pathetic than it did under Mitsuki Bakugo's critical examination. She swept through his living space like a forensic investigator, cataloging every detail that screamed "abandoned teenager pretending to be functional."
The single futon. The card table that served as both desk and dining room. The mini-fridge stocked with energy drinks and leftover takeout. The complete absence of personal photographs, family mementos, or any evidence that Nova Asahi had existed before six months ago.
"Jesus Christ," Mitsuki whispered, running her fingers along shelves that held nothing but textbooks and empty space. "How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen?"
"Fourteen," Nova admitted, watching her face cycle through expressions he couldn't quite parse.
"Fourteen years old, living alone in a studio apartment, eating garbage food, and training yourself into exhaustion." Her voice carried an edge that made Nova's Enhanced Reflexes twitch with warning signals. "Where exactly are these 'overseas parents' of yours?"
"Careful. She's not buying the cover story, but she's not reporting me to authorities either. What does she want?"
"Work takes them all over," Nova said, sticking to his rehearsed script. "They send money for expenses, but travel schedules make communication—"
"Bullshit."
The word hit the air like a physical blow. Mitsuki turned to face him fully, red eyes blazing with an intensity that reminded Nova exactly where Katsuki had inherited his aggressive personality.
"I've raised a teenager for fourteen years," she continued, voice deadly quiet. "I know what parental neglect looks like, and I know what fabricated stories sound like. Whatever's really going on here, whoever you really are, you're a kid who needs someone to give a damn about whether you live or die."
Nova's carefully maintained composure cracked like glass under pressure. Six months of loneliness and exhaustion and pretending he belonged in a world that wasn't his own suddenly felt too heavy to carry alone.
"I don't need pity," he said, but his voice came out smaller than intended.
"Good," Mitsuki replied, pulling out her phone and typing with the efficiency of someone making executive decisions. "Because I don't do pity. I do family. And as of right now, you're eating dinner at our house tonight."
"You can't just—"
"I already texted Katsuki. Told him to set an extra place and warned him to be on his best behavior." Her grin was sharp enough to cut diamonds. "Don't worry, kid. My son's attitude problem is manageable once you understand the rules."
Nova stared at her, processing the impossibility of the situation. Mitsuki Bakugo—fierce, uncompromising, protective—had apparently decided to adopt him as a nephew figure based on nothing more than maternal instinct and the evidence of his obviously fabricated living situation.
"This wasn't in any version of canon I remember. But then again, Nova Asahi never existed in canon either."
"Why?" he asked quietly. "You don't know anything about me. For all you know, I could be dangerous. I could be lying about everything."
Mitsuki's expression softened slightly, though her posture remained ready for violence. "Kid, I've been married to a man with weak nerves for sixteen years and raised a son who could level a building with his temper tantrums. I know dangerous, and you're not it. Lonely, maybe. Stubborn, definitely. But not dangerous."
She stepped closer, and Nova caught the scent that he now recognized: the particular combination of cosmetics and determination that belonged to someone who'd spent years fighting for her family's happiness.
"Besides," she continued, "any kid who can keep up with Deku's training schedule and earn even grudging respect from my son is worth keeping around. Now grab a jacket. We're having katsu tonight, and Masaru makes it better than any restaurant in the city."
The Bakugo household hit Nova like a sensory avalanche the moment Mitsuki opened the front door. Warm air scented with cooking oil and spices. The sound of what might have been a small war happening in the kitchen. Voices raised in argument that somehow managed to sound affectionate despite the volume.
"I'M NOT SETTING A PLACE FOR SOME RANDOM EXTRA!" Katsuki's voice boomed from somewhere deeper in the house.
"YOU'LL SET THE DAMN PLACE AND YOU'LL LIKE IT!" Mitsuki shouted back, steering Nova through an entryway lined with family photographs that spoke of sixteen years of chaotic happiness.
"FINE! BUT I'M NOT TALKING TO HIM!"
"WE'LL SEE ABOUT THAT!"
Nova found himself in a living room that felt like the opposite of his sterile apartment—comfortable furniture, family photos on every surface, the accumulated clutter of people who actually lived together instead of merely existing in shared space.
"Don't mind the noise," said a quiet voice from the kitchen doorway. "They argue because they care."
Masaru Bakugo looked exactly like his animated counterpart—gentle features, calm demeanor, the particular exhaustion of someone who'd spent years mediating between two explosive personalities. He wiped his hands on a dish towel and offered Nova a smile that held genuine warmth.
"You must be Nova. Mitsuki's told me about your training with young Midoriya. Impressive dedication."
"Thank you, sir," Nova replied, caught off-guard by the normalcy of the interaction. "Though I'm not sure how impressive it really is."
"Any improvement requires effort," Masaru said with the philosophy of someone who'd learned to find peace in small victories. "The fact that you're trying at all speaks well of your character."
Dinner was chaos in the best possible way. Mitsuki and Katsuki argued about everything—his grades, her interference, his attitude, her cooking, the proper way to apply sauce to katsu—while Masaru provided gentle commentary and Nova tried not to laugh at the familiar dysfunction.
"Why are YOU here?" Katsuki demanded, glaring at Nova across the table with the fury of someone whose private family space had been invaded.
"Your mother invited me," Nova replied honestly. "I'm not entirely sure why."
"Because you look half-starved and you need someone to feed you properly," Mitsuki said, loading Nova's plate with enough food for three people. "Also because any friend of the Deku kid can't be completely hopeless."
"I NEVER SAID HE WAS A FRIEND!"
"You said he wasn't completely useless. From you, that's practically a love confession."
Katsuki's face flushed red with embarrassment and fury. "I said he trains harder than most extras! That doesn't make us friends!"
But Nova caught the way Katsuki's glare lacked real heat, the way he kept stealing glances to make sure Nova was actually eating. Underneath the explosive exterior lay the same protective instincts that drove his mother—he just expressed them through aggression instead of direct care.
"This is what family feels like. The arguing, the interference, the way they assume they have the right to worry about each other. It's messy and loud and..."
"And perfect," Nova whispered, not realizing he'd spoken aloud until the table went quiet.
Mitsuki's expression softened. "Yeah, kid. It is."
When dinner ended and Nova prepared to leave, Mitsuki hugged him with the fierce intensity of someone claiming territory. Her arms felt strong enough to hold up buildings, warm enough to chase away the cold that had lived in his chest since waking up in this impossible world.
"You come here whenever you need anything," she said firmly. "Meals, laundry, someone to tell you to get more sleep—whatever. You're my nephew now, whether you like it or not."
Nova's throat felt tight with emotions he couldn't name. "Thank you. Really, I... thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Mitsuki replied with a grin. "Wait until you see what I consider acceptable curfew hours for teenage boys."
Walking home through Musutafu's neon-lit streets, Nova felt something shift in his chest—a warmth that had nothing to do with the katsu dinner and everything to do with belonging somewhere, to someone, in a way that felt real instead of fabricated.
[Social Link Unlocked: Mitsuki Bakugo - Rank 1]
[Benefits: Safe House Access, +5% Hero Point gain, +10 WIS from life advice]
[Title Earned: "Adopted Nephew"]
[Bonus: +5 WIS, +10% EXP from family training sessions]
His phone buzzed with a text as he reached his apartment: "Thanks for dinner."
The response came immediately: "Of course, kiddo. Now get some sleep—you look exhausted."
Nova stared at the message for a long moment, then saved Mitsuki's contact info under "Mom (Bakugo)" before he could second-guess the decision.
For the first time since transmigrating, he felt like he had a real family in this strange world.
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