The Battle Trials had concluded with a resounding success, at least to me. Todoroki had used his flames well before the canon timeline expected him to, a ripple effect of the psychological wallop I'd given him.
Izuku's condition after using 100% of One For All hadn't magically cured itself, but his durability was noticeably higher; he could now manage two or three full-power strikes before his arms turned that sickening shade of necrotic purple. Even Bakugo had shown a terrifying leap in battle instinct, though with him, I was never sure if it was my influence or just his natural, explosive genius.
But as for me...
I stared into the bathroom sink, watching a thin stream of water wash away the blood. My reflection looked back, pale and haunting.
Ha... no use thinking about it, I told myself, splashing cold water on my face. The USJ incident was lurking on the horizon. I had to focus on that. Maybe after all that, I'd finally like to take a break. Just for a while.
"Riko! Dinner is ready!" Dad called from down the hall.
"Coming, Dad!" I yelled back, my voice sounding hollower than I liked.
Third Pov
She made her way to the kitchen, the familiar scent of grilled fish and miso soup grounded her. She moved mechanically, helping her father set the table, placing the chopsticks, pouring the tea, and arranging the side dishes. It was a domestic dance they had performed a thousand times, a small pocket of normalcy in a life that was becoming increasingly surreal.
As they began to eat, Riko's mind drifted back to her "other" job. The manga was a phenomenon. She had finally completed the serialisation of Attack on Titan. The ending had sparked the usual firestorm of criticism and debate, just as it had in her previous life, but its success was undeniable.
She let out a small, subconscious huff of laughter. Her assistants had been a mess during the final week. They were crying so hard while inking the scene of Mikasa and Eren's final kiss that she'd had to send them home; their tears were literally smudging the manuscript. Especially that last panel, Mikasa sitting under the tree, the world moving on. It was hauntingly...….beautiful.
"R-Riko? You alright, my girl?"
Her father's voice broke the silence, thick with concern. Riko blinked, coming back to the present.
"H-huh? Yeah, Dad. I'm good. Something the matter?" she asked, forcing a casual smile.
"You're crying, child," he said softly. His hand reached across the table, gently covering hers.
Surprised, Riko touched her cheek. Her fingertips came away wet. She stared at the moisture in shock.
Why? Why am I crying?
She wiped the tears away quickly, but more followed, betraying her. Followed by a feeling of tightness around her throat.
She stood up abruptly, her chair screeching against the floor.
"I-I'm fine! Just tired. I'm going to my room," she stammered, not meeting his eyes.
"Riko, wait—"
"It's okay! I'm ok!" She practically fled, the door to her bedroom slamming shut behind her.
In Riko's bedroom
She sank to the floor, using the edge of her bed as a stabiliser. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Why now? Why the hell was I crying? Do I have some kind of crying sickness now? Stupid, stupid body. Her mind was going haywire. She couldn't think straight; the image of Mikasa under the tree was still burned into her mind.
She realised she wasn't just sad about a manga ending. She was thinking of that panel of Mikasa under the tree and realising she was looking at her own future. A legacy left behind for others to mourn. The walls of her room felt like they were closing in. The air felt too thick to breathe, the ceiling too low. (Disclaimer- It was an anxiety attack, though she lacked the presence of mind to name it.)
She needed out. Now.
"Hey Riko, where are you off to?" her father called out as she headed for the entrance.
Riko didn't stop. "Going for a jog, Dad! Be back soon!" she shouted back, the heavy thud of the door slamming behind her signalling the end of their conversation.
The running helped. Or, more accurately, the exhaustion helped. After ten kilometres, the desperate, physical need for oxygen finally drowned out the noise in her head. Her lungs burned, forcing her mind to go quiet just so her body could breathe.
She eventually slowed to a halt, the sudden realisation of her surroundings snapping her out of her trance. She was standing at the beach, the same stretch of coastline where Deku had once trained with All Might. It was pristine now, a far cry from the mountain of rusted scrap it used to be. Families and groups of friends dotted the sand, reclaiming the beauty that had been buried under garbage for years.
The sight made her pause. Almost on instinct, she drifted toward the shoreline, her feet heavy as she stepped onto the dry sand.
Nearby, a group of middle schoolers caught her eye. They were laughing and striking a familiar pose, arm outstretched, finger pointing toward the horizon. It was the "Eren pose." It seemed that even in this world, the manga had turned that moment into a viral trend. A small, genuine chuckle escaped her lips despite herself.
Riko sat for a moment to pull off her shoes and socks. Standing back up, she felt the cool, shifting grains of the sandy shore beneath her bare feet. It was evening; the sun hung low behind her, casting her long shadow toward the water.
She walked until she reached the surf. The foam climbed the shore, swirling around her ankles and pulling the sand from beneath her heels as the tide receded. The rhythmic crash of the waves and the cold sting of the water made her feel alive. For the first time all day, the troubling thoughts vanished, leaving nothing but the horizon and the girl standing before it.
She continued to stand there, letting the rhythmic pulse of the waves wash over her feet. It was strangely meditative. A small, rare smile graced her face, a moment of genuine peace that lasted until the sharp click of a camera shutter snapped behind her.
Her peace was shattered instantly. A flash of heat rose in her chest; she wanted to lash out at whatever pervert had dared to intrude on her solitude. She spun around, a string of curses already on her tongue, only to freeze.
It was her father. He stood a few paces back, holding a professional-grade camera she didn't recognise.
He walked toward her with a sheepish, apologetic smile. "Sorry, kiddo. I couldn't help myself. My hands just moved on their own," he said, his voice softening. "You looked like an angel standing there. Besides, I was worried about you...you left your phone at home and just bolted."
"It's fine, Dad. I was just... having a mood," Riko said, her shoulders dropping as she turned back to the horizon. "How did you know I'd be here?"
"I've seen you head this way a dozen times," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "Call it father's intuition." He stepped up beside her, gesturing to the device in his hands. "I noticed you've been feeling down lately. I didn't know how to reach you, so I brought this along. I found it in storage a while back."
"I didn't know you were into photography," Riko noted, eyeing the camera's worn leather strap.
"I was in the club back in my school days. I was pretty good, too," he said, a sudden, smug grin crossing his face...a look so remarkably like Riko's that it made her heart pause.
He sat down on the sand and patted the spot next to him. When Riko joined him, he carefully draped the strap around her neck and placed the camera in her lap. It felt surprisingly heavy.
"So, what happened? Why did you quit?" she asked. The shift in his expression gave her half the answer before he even spoke.
"Ah... well, I... ha." He let out a breathy, self-deprecating laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I met your mother while I was freelancing. You know the story. After you were born and she... after she left, I just couldn't bring myself to pick up the camera anymore. It felt like I was trying to capture a world that had already lost its color." He paused, shaking his head as if to clear the ghost of a memory. "But that's in the past. The real reason I brought it is because I remembered it still had the memory card inside. It holds some of your old childhood photos."
He leaned in and pressed the playback button. The digital screen flickered to life.
The first image appeared: the photo he had just taken.
It was Riko, standing on this very shore, looking out at the vast horizon with a smile so pure it looked like it belonged to someone else. If she hadn't known the girl in the frame was her, she would have been captivated by her. The composition, the golden-hour lighting, it was breathtaking. It felt like a secret the world wasn't meant to see, a private moment frozen in time.
She scrolled through more. There she was as a tiny baby, determinedly crawling across the tatami mats. There she was again, face covered in chocolate, making a spectacular mess of her birthday cake. Hearing her father explain the frantic, happy stories behind each shot was... peaceful. It was a kind of quiet she hadn't felt in a long time.
Then, she hit the 'next' button, and Riko's breath hitched.
It was a girl. No...a young teen, though she looked barely older than Riko was now. She was draped in a sterile hospital gown, her skin pale and drawn with an ethereal kind of exhaustion. In her arms, she cradled a tiny, swaddled bundle against her chest. She was looking directly into the lens with a small, devastatingly beautiful smile. Her hair was a deep, yet light purple, and her eyes... they were a vibrant, piercing green.
They were exactly the eyes Riko saw in the mirror every morning.
The silence on the beach suddenly felt very heavy. Her father's smile faltered, his features sagging for a moment before he forced a nostalgic, watery grin.
"It's your mother," he whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't show this to you before. It was taken right after your birth. I-no, we….were so happy then. She was so beautiful." He looked away, wiping his face with the back of his hand to hide the tears that were finally spilling over.
"She is beautiful," Riko said softly. There was a magnetic charm to her, something in her gaze that pulled you in and refused to let go. Looking at her dad, Riko felt a wave of profound sympathy. This man had spent fifteen years living in the shadow of a woman who wasn't there, raising a daughter who looked just like the heartbreak he'd suffered.
She reached out and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "Dad…" she started, her voice a bit thick. "You know… you don't have to stay alone forever. You're still young. You're a good man. I think… I think it's okay if you find someone else. A partner. Someone to share the house with."
Her father stiffened slightly, then let out a long, slow sigh, his hand stroking her hair. "Riko… I have you. That's enough for me."
"It's not," she countered, pulling back to look him in the eye, her green eyes flashing with a desperate kind of sincerity she couldn't quite explain. She couldn't tell him why she was so worried about him being alone in the future, she couldn't mention the ticking clock she was….so she pushed harder. "I'm going to be a hero, Dad. I'll be busy, I'll be away… and eventually, I'll have my own life. I don't want to look back and see you sitting in a quiet house with nothing but old photos for company. You deserve to be happy with someone who stays."
He looked at her, surprised by the intensity in her voice. He saw the flicker of something….anxiety? fear?...in her gaze, but he misinterpreted it as typical teenage worry for a single parent. He gave her a soft, sad smile. "I'll think about it, kiddo. But for now, let's just look at these."
"I'm serious, Dad," she muttered, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Don't shut the world out just because one person left."
"I know, Riko. I know." He cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. "Wait... actually, there are more photos of her. Let me show you."
"You know, Dad, it's fine," Riko started, pulling back slightly. "I don't want to-"
But he cut her off, shaking his head firmly. "No, kid. I'm serious. You may not remember her, and I don't blame you, after she abandoned us. But I'll sleep better knowing my daughter at least knows who her mother was. Besides... I think you need a break from whatever it is you're going through right now."
He was right. She didn't have the energy to refute it. They spent the next few hours huddled together on the sand, scrolling through the digital history of their lives. Her father did most of the talking, and Riko just listened. It felt good learning about his childhood, his dreams, and even the parts of her mother she never would have guessed.
Eventually, as the sky turned dark, they stood up. Her father tilted his head back, looking up at the stars, and Riko followed his gaze.
She froze.
For fifteen years, she had lived in this world, yet she wondered how she had never truly seen the night sky until this moment. It was a magnificent, glittering, infinite sea of light, unfettered by the smog and glow of the cities she once knew. She found herself wondering if the sky in her previous world had ever been this beautiful, or if she had simply been too busy looking down to notice.
They stood there for a long time, held in place by the cool sea breeze and the comfortable silence, until her father spoke again, his voice barely a murmur against the sound of the waves.
"You know, kid... I may not say this often, but you can tell me anything. Anything that's troubling you. Always know that no matter what, I love you. Nothing is ever going to change that."
Riko felt a crack form in her carefully maintained armour. The "Cool girl" persona she wore like a mask, the crushing weight of a plot she felt, and the agonising fear of leaving her father behind one day....all of it boiled over at once. Her body moved on its own, a desperate reflex. She lunged forward, burying her face in his chest and clinging to him with everything she had.
And he simply hugged her back, his presence a solid, remaining as an unshakable anchor in her chaotic world.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Author's tent
wassup....good day to you people.
support me by writing a review, commenting and throwing in them stones. tis make ya author happy, and a happy author is good for da story.....or I become gege.
Also, next is usj arc.