As Nejire and Wendigo clashed with all their might, Raiden—now currently Mewtwo—watched in silence, lost in thought.
He couldn't stop his mind from drifting. "What am I doing here?" he wondered.
Of course, he knew the surface-level answer. This was a test to prove he was ready to take the Provisional Hero License Exam.
But that didn't silence the deeper doubts gnawing at the back of his mind. What's the point of all this? he thought. I used to believe in just helping others—and well. The excitement of pushing myself to the limit, of being part of something bigger.' And to some degree, it still is. The intensity of battle lit a fire inside him that was hard to ignore.
But maybe it wasn't just that anymore.
Maybe it was because he was changing.
Whether it was the effect of his Quirk, maturity, or something else entirely, Mewtwo felt more in tune with himself than ever before.
With every level-up, his power grew—but so did his clarity.
His thoughts felt sharper, his focus deeper. But this newfound awareness brought something else along with it: introspection. A quiet, persistent voice urging him to look inward.
And what he found wasn't always easy to face, now it was only a question, but he was sure that slowly he could start to ask himself more tricky questions.
Ever since his internship ended, something inside him had shifted. The idea of being a hero just because it was "cool", a childhood dream or exciting wasn't enough.
Fighting for the sake of fighting, wearing the title of "hero" like a badge of pride—those reasons felt hollow now. Shallow. Like an empty shell trying to pass for something meaningful.
His father's words echoed in his mind.
"What's your true reason for doing this?"
Raiden thought it was to protect people, to stop bad things from happening. And sure, that was part of it.
But even revenge, once a powerful motivator, had lost its grip. How could he even take revenge on someone who was already broken—crippled by his own choices? Edward was rooting in jail and without limbs. And that thing, Deoxys the one that had caused him so much pain, had vanished without a trace inside Endeavor flames.
Even if he felt a sense of peace now, something was still missing.
He felt the passion for being a hero, yes, an incredible one, but one part of him wanted a rational reason to be one, more than helping.
He glanced to the side at Alice who lay on the ground, at Nejire mid-battle against Chopper.
They all shared something in common—something undeniable. Their Quirks were absurdly powerful. So much potential packed into each of them that it was terrifying. And that made Raiden pause.
He realized something that had always been in the background, but he'd never fully acknowledged until now.
Being a pro hero is a glorified career. And not just because it was noble—but because it was safer for everyone else.
Raiden remembered growing up, watching how teachers, parents, and society seemed to encourage—or shove—the kids with the most powerful Quirks toward the hero career.
Kids with flashier, deadlier Quirks were praised, encouraged, practically branded as the future of heroism. He had seen it firsthand.
Some of those kids were nightmares. He'd fought them, because some of them tried to bully him. Children with fire-based Quirks, electricity, poison… dangerous abilities they barely understood, let alone controlled.
But rather than discourage them, the adults tried to guide" them towards the hero career.
And now, with real experience under his belt, Raiden finally understood why.
'Because it's better to have them on the side of good than risk facing them as enemies.'
That was the logic. Push the strongest kids toward the "light", not because it's noble—but because it's safer for society. Safer for the world.
Because if one of those kids ever snapped, if someone with the destructive power of Endeavor—or worse—turned to villainy, the consequences would be catastrophic.
Entire cities could burn. Countries could fall, just like some had in parts of Africa, Europe, and America—sacrificed because no one controlled the chaos in time.
There were entire nations where the rule of law had collapsed, torn apart by the sheer power and cruelty of Quirks left unchecked.
Raiden exhaled slowly, it was a harsh reality.
'This… this is what it really means to be a hero,' he thought.
'Not just about helping people or fighting villains. It's about carrying the burden of power—and keeping it from falling into the wrong hands.'
This made Raiden—Mewtwo—question everything as he watched his classmates tear through the forest in training, reducing ancient trees to nothing but broken branches and scorched bark. He muttered to himself.
'Are we strong because we're heroes… or are we heroes because we're strong?"
One answer suggested nobility—heroes as people who strived to be better, who fought for justice and protection. The other… implied that being a hero was a polished label slapped onto the most dangerous individuals to make them seem like saviors instead of threats. It made the whole career feel like a carefully crafted illusion.
But Raiden knew that criticism was more about the system than himself.
"I enjoy it," he admitted quietly. "It's a good thing to do." At least, it felt good. It was exciting, and fulfilling in its own way.
The problem was, he had never imagined how complex it all truly was. He was sure most of his classmates hadn't either. Maybe it was time to ask—what were their motivations? Why did they want to be heroes?
Mewtwo's eyes returned to the ongoing battle. Nejire and Wendigo were wearing each other down. Both had visible injuries—cuts, bruises, blood slowly soaking into their bodies. Wendigo's bone armor was cracking under Nejire's pressure, and Nejire's energy was flickering like a failing light, her breathing shallow and ragged.
'Do you need help? Before more people show up… I've got the feeling we're being watched,' Mewtwo called out mentally.
"How sure are you that we're being watched?" Wendigo asked, his tone sharp despite the fatigue.
Mewtwo scanned the area, narrowing his eyes. A flicker of movement caught his attention beneath a pile of debris.
"Ninety percent."
"Then yes. Help me. We need to get out of here." Wendigo didn't hesitate.
In a blur of motion, Mewtwo vanished from the ground and reappeared above Nejire. She was focused on Wendigo, completely unaware. He launched three shadow balls in quick succession. One struck her squarely in the back, and she collapsed instantly and the other two rushed to the place he saw the strange movement.
The moment she hit the ground, Mewtwo was at her side, and immediately used life dew to heal her, the strike broke her hero suit and left a wound on her back.
Once Nejire was stable, and the wound disappeared he turned and did the same for Wendigo.
Just as they prepared to take off, an unnatural gust of cherry blossom petals whipped through the clearing, accompanied by a strange surge of water that seemed to bend unnaturally and had the aspect of an old Japanese painting.
Without missing a beat, Mewtwo raised his hand and fired off three bursts of Psyshock. The blasts crashed into the approaching attack, pushing it back just far enough to give them breathing room.
Neither of the two who had attacked them had the means to hold them back. So, Mewtwo used his telekinesis, lifted Wendigo off the ground, and scaped flying.
He took a detour, making sure to lose anyone who might have been on their trail. Mewtwo led them into the sky, flying high above the trees before diving down and entering the lake from its center. The surface parted slightly as they slipped beneath the water, vanishing from sight.
They emerged inside their hidden base, and for the first time in an hour, they finally had a moment to breathe.
Neither of them reverted to their original forms. Instead, they remained transformed, both sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall, exhaustion weighing heavily on their bodies. Small, tired smiles played on their faces.
"Finally, we have the eight points," Wendigo said, exhaling deeply. "Now we just need to rest and stay sharp. Ambushes could come at any time."
'Yeah,' Mewtwo agreed with a quiet nod. 'Now, it's all about staying hidden.'
Silence followed for a while as they caught their breath.
The base hummed softly with the distant sound of water above. Then, after resting for a while, without warning, Mewtwo broke the silence with a question that came out of nowhere.
'Why do you want to be a hero?'
The question caught Wendigo completely off guard. He blinked a few times, surprised, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he searched for words.
"It's because of my grandpa," he finally said, voice quieter than before. "He was… a doctor. The best one I knew. He helped so many people—and saved lives every day. I looked up to him more than anyone. But then he got sick. Depression, he took his own life." Wendigo let out a bitter chuckle. "Ironic, right? A man who healed others, dying from his own hand"
He paused, eyes distant now. "I always wanted to be a hero, even before that. But when he died, I made a promise—to myself and to him—that I would follow in his footsteps. That I'd become someone who helps people… like he did."
Chopper's explanation struck something deep in Mewtwo. He felt a pang of guilt, maybe even a little shame for not asking sooner or even asking, he wasn't sure.
"I'm sorry about your grandpa," Mewtwo said softly, his voice more genuine than usual. "Truly."
Wendigo nodded slowly. "Thank you. But it's okay. It's been five years. At the end, I could say I regret not noticing sooner, however, I was 10, and there was nothing I could do, so I've made peace with that," His tone darkened slightly, frustration creeping into his voice.
"But you know what makes me angry? It's not his death—it's the fact that we've advanced so far in technology, built machines that fly, among other things, and still had people with mental diseases. We haven't fixed that."
As he spoke, Wendigo clenched his fists, the movement was subtle but pretty clear.
His face didn't reveal much—his form didn't allow for typical expressions—but Mewtwo could still sense the pain lingering underneath, like a shadow that hadn't quite left.
Quietly, Mewtwo floated over and placed a hand on Wendigo's shoulder, giving it a few gentle pats.
"You don't have to wait to become someone your grandpa would be proud of," he said. "You already are."
"Thanks, mate. I really appreciate that," Wendigo said with a small, grateful nod.
"I hope I'm doing alright… you know, my grandpa had ridiculously high standards." He let out a mental chuckle, the kind that didn't quite reach his face but lived in the space between his words.
Then, after a beat, he turned the question back.
"And you? Why do you want to be a hero?"
The question had been hanging in the air for a while. It was only natural that it would be asked eventually.
Mewtwo took a breath, his gaze dropping for a moment before he answered.
'Honestly? At first, I wanted to be a hero because it sounded cool,' he admitted with a slight shrug. 'I think that's how it is for a lot of kids—bright costumes, powers, saving people. It all looks amazing from the outside."
He shifted slightly and rolled up his sleeve, exposing his forearm. With a focused pulse of energy, a glowing number appeared on his skin: 18.
"This number used to be a zero," he continued. "And my Quirk… well, it wasn't this. It wasn't anything, actually. For the longest time, I thought I was Quirkless."
He paused, watching the number fade before continuing.
'It wasn't until an incident at a convenience store that everything changed. A robbery went bad, and during the chaos… I beat a villain, my Quirk activated. The zero turned into a one. Suddenly, I had these psychic abilities—and I could transform into this.'
Mewtwo gestured vaguely to his current form.
'But the activation came at a cost. One of the robbers hit me hard—too hard. I ended up in a coma. Woke up much later, confused, changed. Everything was different.'
He let out a dry laugh. 'So yeah... that was the beginning.'
He went quiet for a moment, letting the weight of the memory settle, then continued.
'At first, I wanted revenge. That was the only thing driving me. But as time went on, I started to see more. The world's got a darkness to it—a real, deep kind. I saw it the day I went into coma… and I saw it again after. The same group. They attacked an entire hotel, and wiped out almost everyone there. Innocent people. Families. And that wasn't the only time.'
Mewtwo's tone hardened slightly, his voice low but steady now.
'That's when it shifted for me. I didn't just want revenge anymore. I wanted to do something about that kind of evil—to stop it, or at least stand in its way.'
He leaned back slightly, looking up at the ceiling of the base, as if searching for something in the stillness.
'I'm not trying to save everyone. I'm not like Mirio or some symbol of peace. But I don't want to live in a world where that kind of horror is normal. I still have nightmares about that hotel… what happened during the internship, it shook me. I didn't think humans were capable of that much cruelty. But they are.'
He looked back at Wendigo, eyes calm but clear.
'I want to fight that. Maybe I can't fix it all, but I have to try.'
The silence that followed wasn't awkward—it was thoughtful, and respectful.
End of the chapter.