The hospital smell hit Yuta like a physical wall the moment he stepped through the automatic doors. That particular combination of disinfectant, floor wax, and something indefinably sad that seemed to permeate every medical facility in existence.
*Some things are the same in every universe,* he thought, making his way to the elevator. *Hospitals always smell like hope and despair had a baby.*
The elevator ride to the third floor gave him time to think. A week ago, he'd been just another General Studies student dealing with the typical problems of a fifteen-year-old—grades, social awkwardness, and the crushing realization that his Quirk was basically useless.
Then everything had changed.
First, his mother had been attacked. Then his memories had awakened. Then the system had finally decided to show up and inform him that he'd been cosmically mail-forwarded to the wrong universe.
*Just another Tuesday in the life of Yuta Akutami,* he thought wryly.
The elevator dinged softly as it reached the third floor. Yuta stepped out and walked down the familiar hallway, nodding to the nurses who'd gotten used to his daily visits.
"Afternoon, Yuta-kun," Nurse Akira called out from behind the reception desk. "Your mother's been asking about you."
"Just checking to make sure she's taking her medication and not trying to escape," Yuta replied with a grin. "You know how she gets when she's bored."
Nurse Akira laughed. "She tried to organize a wheelchair race with the patient in 304 yesterday."
"Sounds about right. Did she win?"
"By three lengths. I think she's getting restless."
*That's Mom,* Yuta thought fondly. *Never could sit still for long.*
He made his way to room 312 and knocked gently on the door frame.
"Come in," came a familiar voice.
Yuta stepped inside, and his heart did the same little skip it had done every day for the past week when he saw his mother.
Aiko Akutami was sitting up in bed, her laptop balanced on a mobile table in front of her. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she was wearing the kind of bright, cheerful pajamas that somehow made the sterile hospital room feel a little more like home.
Her legs, wrapped in bandages and supported by a complex-looking frame, lay still beneath the blankets.
"Hey, Mom," Yuta said, forcing his voice to sound normal. "Working on your novel again?"
"Yuta!" Her face lit up with genuine happiness. "I thought you had classes today."
"I did. But I figured my education could wait. Besides, someone needs to make sure you're not terrorizing the medical staff."
He pulled up the visitor's chair and sat down, noticing the way she carefully closed her laptop. She'd been working on the same mystery novel for three years now, always claiming it was "almost finished"
"I heard about your wheelchair racing career," he continued. "Should I be preparing for your transition into professional sports?"
Aiko laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "Mrs. Takahashi challenged me. What was I supposed to do, back down?"
"Heaven forbid. The Akutami family honor would never survive."
They fell into comfortable conversation, talking about everything and nothing. Yuta told her about the chaos in General Studies, making her laugh with his impression of Kusuo's air guitar performance at lunch. She updated him on the hospital gossip, including the ongoing drama between two nurses who apparently had very different opinions about proper bedside manner.
It was normal. It was comfortable.
It was also a carefully constructed facade.
Because underneath the jokes and casual conversation, Yuta was acutely aware of the elephant in the room. Or rather, the person who'd put his mother in this room.
Hero Killer: Stain.
The man who'd decided that Aiko Akutami—a low-ranking hero who'd spent her entire career helping people evacuate from disaster zones—wasn't "worthy" of being called a hero. Then proceeded to cripple her because his philosophy deemed it so.
*And I'm the only one who knows where he'll be and when,* Yuta thought, his smile never wavering even as something cold and hard settled in his chest.
"You're thinking too hard again," his mother said suddenly.
Yuta blinked, focusing on her face. She was watching him with the kind of gentle concern that only mothers seemed to possess.
"Sorry, just... processing some stuff."
"Want to talk about it?"
He almost said no. Almost deflected with another joke or changed the subject entirely.
Instead, he found himself asking, "Do you ever think about what would happen if you could get revenge on someone who hurt you?"
Aiko's expression grew thoughtful. "That's... a surprisingly heavy question for a Tuesday afternoon."
"I'm a surprisingly heavy guy. It's the existential dread. Really adds to my overall mass."
She smiled, but he could see she was taking the question seriously.
"I think," she said slowly, "that revenge is like poison. It hurts the person holding it more than the person it's meant for."
"Even if that person deserved it?"
"Even then." She leaned forward slightly. "Yuta, this isn't about... what happened to me, is it?"
*Everything is about what happened to you,* he thought. *And what I'm going to do about it.*
"Just a hypothetical," he said aloud. "You know how my brain gets sometimes. Philosophical rabbit holes."
"Mm-hmm." She didn't look convinced, but she didn't push either. "Well, hypothetically speaking, I think the best revenge is living well. Being happy. Not letting the person who hurt you control your life."
'Classic mother speech.'
"That's very zen of you."
"I have a lot of time to think these days."
There was something in her tone—not quite bitterness, but a kind of quiet sadness that made Yuta's chest tighten.
"Mom..."
"I'm okay, Yuta. Really." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "I've got physical therapy, I've got my writing, and I've got you. That's more than enough."
*It's not enough,* he thought fiercely. *You deserve so much more than this.*
But he squeezed her hand back and smiled.
"Good. Because I'd hate to have to find a new mother. The paperwork alone would be a nightmare."
"You're horrible."
"I learned from the best."
They talked for another hour, until visiting hours began winding down and the nurses started their evening rounds. Yuta kissed his mother's forehead and promised to visit again tomorrow.
"Get some rest," she called as he headed for the door. "And don't skip too many classes for me."
"I make no promises."
"Yuta!"
"Fine, fine. I'll attend at least sixty percent of my classes. Seventy if you eat all your vegetables."
"Make them 100% young man, and you got yourself a deal."
"You drive a hard bargain. I need to discuss with my board."
He waved goodbye and stepped into the hallway, his cheerful expression dissolving the moment he was out of sight.
*Stain,* he thought, his hands clenching into fists. *Hero Killer Stain.*
Where was the man now? He wasn't sure. At this point in time, most likely Hosu or somewhere near Hosu.
It was there that the Pro Hero Ingenium would be crippled after all.
*But I know it's coming. I know where. I know when.*
The elevator doors opened, and Yuta stepped inside, his reflection staring back at him from the polished metal walls.
*The question is: what am I going to do about it?*
___
The walk back to his apartment was automatic. Muscle memory guided him through familiar streets while his mind churned through possibilities.
His apartment building came into view—a modest five-story complex in a decent neighborhood. The kind of place where people minded their own business but still smiled when they passed you in the hallway.
He climbed the stairs to the third floor, unlocked the door to apartment 3-B, and stepped into the empty silence.
Empty.
That was the word that defined this place now. His mother's reading glasses on the coffee table. Her favorite mug in the dish rack. The throw blanket she always kept on the couch, still folded exactly how she'd left it.
Yuta dropped his bag by the door and walked to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge more out of habit than hunger. Leftover curry from three days ago. Milk that was probably fine. Energy drinks he'd bought for late-night studying.
He grabbed a drink and sat down at the kitchen table, staring at nothing.
This was the part he didn't show his mother. The part where he came home to an apartment that felt too big and too quiet. Where he had to figure out bills and groceries and all the mundane responsibilities she'd always just... handled.
To do all that despite her work as a hero. It was exhausting just thinking about it.
*She's not dead,* he reminded himself. *She's alive. She's okay. She's—*
In a hospital bed because someone decided she wasn't good enough to be a hero.
Yuta took a long drink, the artificial sweetness cutting through the tightness in his throat.
The thing was, he understood Stain's philosophy. At least, the version of it that made sense before the psychopath part kicked in. The Hero industry had become commercialized. Heroes cared more about brand deals than saving lives. All Might was literally the only one holding the entire system together through sheer force of will and charisma.
But his mother?
She'd never had a brand deal. Never had merchandise. Her hero ranking had been hovering around the 900s for her entire career with occasional dips. She'd spent fifteen years evacuating people from burning buildings and flood zones and disaster areas—the unglamorous, dangerous, exhausting work that didn't make headlines.
And Stain had looked at her and seen someone unworthy?
CRACK!
The can in his hand was squeezed from sheer force.
Sticky liquid dropped across his palm and onto the table. Yuta blinked at it as if seeing it for the first time.
"…Damn it." He tossed the can into the sink, where it clattered too loudly in the silence, and stared at his fingers. After several moments, he let out a long sigh, got up and got a napkin.
"It's fine. HOSU is almost a month away and now I actually have the means to do something about it."
It was a forgone conclusion that Yuta was going after The Hero Killer. An action against the law and would place him in serious trouble if he got caught. He didn't believe he could be as lucky as Iida, Midoriya and Todoroki who got off with a slap on the wrist due to fortunate circumstances.
Love is blind. But when love turns to hate, it blinds, deafens, and leaves nothing else worth seeing.
Like a wise man once said.
'It's all about Family.'
In that case, he would just have to do so without getting caught. As for what he would do against the hero killer ... He honestly wasn't sure. Sure he was angry, but killing was a line he didn't want to cross.
*As a Hero Course aspirant, my thoughts aren't really heroic, are they?*
Yuta cleaned up the spilled energy drink, his movements methodical and automatic. The sticky residue clung to his fingers even after wiping them down.
Revenge. Premeditation. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
He tossed the napkin in the trash and leaned against the counter, staring at his reflection in the darkened window above the sink.
'That's not what heroes do. Heroes save people. Heroes inspire hope. Heroes don't plan ambushes against villains, no matter how justified it might feel.'
There was a pause of silence.
*Thankfully,* a wry smile tugging at his lips, *I'm a General Studies student. What does being a hero have to do with me?*
___
[Hospital - Room 312]
Aiko Akutami stared at her laptop screen, the cursor blinking mockingly at the end of an unfinished sentence.
She'd been trying to write for the past hour, but her mind kept drifting back to Yuta's visit. To that question he'd asked about revenge.
To the look in his eyes when he thought she wasn't watching—that mix of determination and barely controlled anger that reminded her too much of the heroes she'd worked with over the years.
The ones who'd burned out.
*He's just fifteen.* she thought, closing the laptop with a soft click. *He shouldn't be thinking about revenge. He should be thinking about school and friends and... normal teenage things.*
But there was nothing normal about their situation, was there? His mother crippled by a serial killer. Living alone in an apartment he was too young to have to manage. Visiting hospitals every day instead of hanging out with classmates.
*I wish he'd just... live, she thought, her hand absently rubbing at her immobile legs. Make friends. Go to school. Find a nice girl. Stop worrying about me.*
A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
"Come in," she called, expecting Nurse Akira with evening medication.
Instead, a tall figure in a hero costume stepped through the doorway.
Aiko blinked in surprise. The armor was unmistakable—white and blue with distinctive exhaust pipes protruding from the arms. The helmet covered most of his face, but she could see determined eyes behind the visor.
"Ingenium?" she said, uncertain. "I... what are you doing here?"
The Turbo Hero stepped fully into the room, his presence somehow making the small hospital space feel even smaller.
"Ms. Akutami," he said, his voice carrying that practiced heroic tone that she recognized from years in the industry. Professional but warm. "I apologize for the unexpected visit. I know visiting hours are almost over."
"It's fine, I just..." She gestured vaguely at herself, suddenly very aware of her cheerful pajamas and messy hair. "I wasn't expecting... I mean, you're the Turbo Hero. What could you possibly need from me?"
Ingenium moved closer. He pulled up the visitor's chair that Yuta had occupied just hours earlier.
"I wanted to talk to you about your attack," he said quietly. "About the Hero Killer: Stain."
The name hung in the air between them.
Aiko felt her stomach tighten. She'd spent the past week trying not to think about that night. About the alley.
"I... I already gave my statement to the police," she said, hating how small her voice sounded.
"I know." Ingenium leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I've read it. Multiple times. But I need to know more. Details the police report might not have captured. Anything that could help track him down before—"
He didn't say more.
Aiko looked at this pro hero—this Top 50 hero sitting in her hospital room—and saw something she recognized.
The same determination that had been in Yuta's eyes. The same barely controlled anger hidden beneath a professional exterior.
He's going to hunt Stain, she realized. Just like Yuta wants to.
And suddenly she felt very, very tired.
"What do you want to know?" she asked quietly.
Ingenium's posture straightened slightly—relief and determination mixing in equal measure.
"Everything," he said. "Starting from the beginning. Every detail you can remember, no matter how small."
Aiko took a deep breath, her fingers unconsciously gripping the blanket across her legs.
"It was raining," she began. "I was finishing my patrol route in the commercial district when I heard someone call for help..."
___