I slipped past Izuku's opening strike with a pivot and let my shoulder roll with the wind of his swing. He was faster now. Stronger too. His muscles did not hesitate like they used to. There was certainty in his movement, the kind that came from pain well studied.
He followed up with a hook that would have shattered stone. I ducked beneath it, felt the air crackle behind me, then stepped in close and drove an elbow into his solar plexus. The impact thudded into his ribs. He gasped, stumbled half a step, but did not fall. His feet adjusted before he finished exhaling. His weight shifted back like it belonged there.
He was learning to recover fast. Too fast for someone his age.
The ground beneath us still held faint scars from our last session. His control was tighter today. No hammer. No storm. This was just him. Muscle and will.
I moved again.
Observation Haki pulsed around me like a second heartbeat. His shoulder twitched. A subtle tell. I read it before he moved. When the punch came, I was already stepping into it. I caught his wrist with one hand, turned, and used his momentum to spin around his guard. My foot snapped up, aiming behind his knee.
He caught it with his shin.
The sound was a dull clap. No give. No falter.
He was watching me now. Really watching.
I shifted my weight and twisted midair. He leaned back, ready for another kick. That was the trap. My arms swept wide, fingers flicking in a pattern built for show. It was an illusion form — one I used to train wizards who relied too much on flash and flair. But I had refined it into something useful.
Izuku's eyes tracked my upper body. That was the point.
While he raised his arms to guard, I dropped low, swept his left leg out from under him, and twisted my hips. His stance broke. His center slipped.
He hit the grass with a clean thud.
The breath left his lungs in a slow grunt. His back arched slightly from the impact. His head tilted toward the sky, eyes half-lidded.
Before I could say anything, a small voice broke from the edge of the yard.
"Izuku!"
Eri stood near the barrier line, fists tight at her chest. Her unicorn pendant caught the light. Her hair was braided neatly, but it had started to come loose. She looked ready to run to him.
Izuku raised his arm. Thumb up.
"Still good," he rasped, not opening his eyes.
She did not smile right away. But she let out a shaky breath and nodded. One of her feet slid back slightly, the way children do when they are not sure if they should leave or not.
I offered Izuku my hand.
He took it.
His grip was steady. His palm callused. I pulled him up in one motion, and he stood without complaint.
"You almost broke through," I said quietly.
He caught his breath and nodded. "Almost."
"You're holding back."
"I know."
"Next time, don't."
He smiled then. A small one. But real.
From the right, Rin stepped forward, her arms folded.
"You enjoy this too much," she said flatly.
Before I could answer, a transparent barrier locked around me with a flick of her hand.
I raised a brow.
"Ambush?"
"Training," she said, stepping forward, hand glowing.
Behind her, my clone materialized without a sound.
It kicked her upward with controlled force. She flipped midair, stabilizing with one barrier under her feet.
But another clone caught her in the air.
Izumaki-style.
He split into five and launched into a classic combo, rapid strikes, feints, and a final dropkick from above. It was exaggerated. It was excessive.
She still blocked most of it.
But the last one slipped through.
Rin hit the ground with a thud, groaned once, and rolled to her feet. Dust covered her shoulder. Her braid was slightly undone.
I walked free of the barrier.
Tanaka entered with no warning, fists already up.
He did not speak. He just swung.
His punches came heavy and wide. Not messy, just raw. I met him blow for blow, our fists cracking against each other like thunderclaps. No finesse. Just power.
My knuckles throbbed by the sixth hit.
We grinned at the same time.
Then a blur of blonde hair and knives landed between us.
Toga flipped backward, bounced off Tanaka's shoulder, and went straight for me with a short blade aimed at my side.
I blocked it with my forearm. The blade slid off my suit with a spark.
"Getting bored?" I asked.
She grinned. "You're taking too long."
Gentle stepped in next, topcoat fluttering.
"My apologies," he said, already swinging a ribbon blade toward Toga's path and bouncing around the field. "But I must also interrupt."
From that point, it dissolved into chaos.
Tanaka headbutted a clone. Rin threw up a wall that ricocheted half of us sideways. Gentle's momentum wrapped Toga mid-air, only for her to slip out with a giggle. Slip and Cage joined next, one tumbling with misdirection, the other morphing into a large golden retriever just to bite my ankle.
By the end of it, I stood alone in the ring.
My coat was gone. My shirt torn. My chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Across my back, the green ink of the Vaelrix tattoo shimmered under the sun, a detailed serpent curled around a shattered hourglass.
My arms were scraped. My fists raw.
But I was the only one standing.
I raised my arms in victory. A little dramatic. Maybe flexed a bit more than needed.
"Eri!" I called. "Look."
She did not.
She was laughing, one hand covering her mouth.
Cage had shifted into a horse-sized rabbit and was letting her brush his ears with a stick.
I lowered my head in quiet disappointment.
So much for the grand moment.
It had been months since we took down two Yakuza organizations. Since then, the world had begun to shift.
We tried to recruit more. Some turned us away. Some were too scared. A few just didn't believe we were any different than what we claimed to fight.
That was fine.
We had enough.
The non-clones were improving every day. Izuku now ran half of our forward operations, the face, the shield, and sometimes the hammer.
He had become the Coil's symbol to the public.
Not me.
I preferred it that way.
Thanks to the experimentation I'd layered into the Control Room, we now had travel doors that connected our bases. Seamless. Quiet. Instant.
Anywhere. Anytime.
Now, we could appear in Hokkaido to break a smuggling ring and vanish to Osaka before dinner. We could deliver supplies to a flooded district, then reroute back to Tokyo by nightfall.
We moved too fast. Too clean.
The heroes had started investigating.
But I had buried them in red tape. Magic they could not detect. Paperwork they could not prove wrong. Every shell company I created was legal. Every license hidden under another.
We were vigilantes.
They knew.
They just could not touch us.
Not without backlash.
Not when mothers in the suburbs sent us thank-you notes. Not when our food trucks fed hospitals in low-income wards. Not when our name had become shorthand for safety in neighborhoods they no longer patrolled.
We were too loud to silence.
Too helpful to arrest.
Too strong to ignore.
And that was the balance I had created.
For now, it held.
"What did I miss?" asks Shinso as he comes back from patrol with Shadow.
He deadpans at everyone and just shakes his head as he sits next to us.
<><><><><><><>
The best part of the new place was that no one yelled.
Not even once.
Not when she dropped her spoon during dinner. Not when she wandered too far into the greenhouse by accident. Not even when she woke up in the middle of the night and knocked over the big blue lamp with the funny glow.
Nobody yelled.
This morning, she wore the pink sweater Rin gave her. It had sleeves that folded just right. Not too tight. Not itchy. And her necklace, the unicorn one Timothy made, stayed cool on her skin. It glowed a little when she touched it, which made her smile.
She ran through the garden path near the main wing, holding a small stuffed fox in one hand.
The other hand was free, just in case Izuku showed up.
He usually let her hold onto him when they walked. He never moved too fast or dragged her forward. He asked before he changed direction. And when she looked up at him, he always smiled like she mattered.
She liked him best.
Not that she would say it.
But still.
At breakfast, she sat beside Toga, who had already finished eating and was spinning a butter knife in one hand like it was a toy.
Eri watched her.
"Want to learn how to stab someone?" Toga asked with a big grin.
Eri blinked. Then tilted her head.
"I don't think I should."
Toga leaned closer. "But if you ever have to, you should know how."
Eri thought about that.
Then nodded.
"Okay."
Toga handed her the butter knife and started showing how to hold it.
Then Tanaka walked in.
He saw them. Stopped.
Toga froze.
Eri smiled.
Tanaka walked over, crouched, and gently plucked the knife from Eri's hand. He said nothing. Just gave Toga a look and handed Eri a spoon instead.
"This one's better," he said.
Eri nodded.
Toga pouted.
After breakfast, Timothy came by with a box.
It was wrapped in soft blue cloth and tied with ribbon. Eri reached for it carefully.
Inside were toys.
Not loud ones. Not ones that moved too fast. Just little plush animals and a puzzle and a small coloring book with stickers that sparkled if she pressed them in the right place.
Timothy knelt beside her.
"You like foxes, right?" he asked.
She nodded quickly.
"There's a fox family in the back pages," he said. "You can give them names."
She whispered thank you, and he ruffled her hair once before standing.
She didn't mind when he did that.
Only when he did it.
Later that day, Cage let her ride on his back after turning into a bear. A soft one. Not scary. He even let her braid a flower crown for his ears. She sat there for almost twenty minutes while he lumbered around the garden, pretending to sniff out honey.
Slip showed her a magic trick, then tripped on his own shoes and landed in a patch of moss.
She laughed so hard her side hurt.
At some point, Shadow appeared from the corner of the hallway with two juice boxes. He didn't say much, but he handed her the grape one and walked off before she could say thank you.
She decided she liked him too.
By evening, she had colored half the fox family and given them names.
The smallest was named Mochi.
The big one was Izuku.
The one with wings was Timothy, even though foxes did not have wings.
She was sitting on the couch in the main room when the door creaked and Izuku peeked in.
"Hey," he said.
She waved.
"Want to go outside again? I thought we could look at the sky."
Eri jumped to her feet.
He held out his hand.
She took it without hesitation.
Outside, the sky was full of color. Orange, purple, soft gray at the edges. Birds moved like quiet shadows across the rooftops. The air smelled like rice and something sweet from the kitchens.
Izuku pointed upward.
"There," he said. "That one's going to be the first star."
Eri looked.
Then nodded.
"I think so too."
They sat on the edge of the balcony for a while. She leaned her head against his arm. He didn't move.
The unicorn pendant glowed faintly against her chest.
And for the first time in a long time, the weight she carried felt like something she could set down.
Not forever.
Just for a little while.
Because here, she was not someone to be used.
She was someone they made room for.
Someone they laughed with.
Someone who mattered.
And that, to her, was more magical than anything.