"Kazama! If you don't stop daydreaming, you're going to be the one holding both buckets today!"
Kazama Takeru blinked, his emerald eyes focusing back on the chalkboard. He glanced to his right, where Hiroki was desperately trying to suppress a grin while his arm subtly elongated under the desk to poke Daichi.
"I'm focused, Hiroki," Kazama whispered back, leaning his chair slightly. "And for the record, it was Daichi who tripped the teacher's desk."
"I didn't trip it," Daichi muttered, adjusting his glasses without looking up from his notebook.
"I merely used the reflection in the window to see when he was looking away. It was a tactical assessment of the environment."
"Boys! Quiet in the middle row!" the teacher barked, slamming a ruler down.
The three of them instantly stiffened. This was the rhythm of Kazama's life at ten years old. He wasn't the brooding kid in the back; he was right in the thick of it. He was the "genius" who helped everyone with their homework, but he was also the boy who got caught up in the chaos of his best friends.
Later that afternoon, the trio stood in the hallway, each clutching two heavy buckets of water.
"My arms are going to fall off," Hiroki groaned, his elastic limbs drooping. "Kazama, why didn't you just use your 'scary brain' to talk us out of this?"
Kazama laughed, though his own shoulders were starting to burn. "And ruin the tradition? This is the third time this week, Hiroki. We're setting a record."
"Record-breaking idiots," Daichi sighed, staring into the water in his bucket. "I saw the teacher coming through the glass of the clock, you know. I tried to warn you."
"Yeah, well, warning us and us actually listening are two different things," Kazama said, shifting his weight. He felt a familiar warmth in his chest. In his first life as Matt, hallways were places of fear and loneliness. Here, even with heavy buckets and a sore back, he was happy. He had brothers.
The atmosphere changed when he got home. The laughter of the school hallway was replaced by the humming tension of the back gym.
"Higher, Kazama! Don't let the pressure drop!" Aki called out, her hair whipping around her face as she hovered a few feet off the ground.
Kazama was currently suspended six feet in the air. Blue sparks hissed from the soles of his feet, creating a shimmering cushion of energy that kept him aloft. It wasn't like his mother's wind-walking; it was more like trying to balance on a ball of lightning.
"It's... harder... than it looks!" Kazama grunted, his face red with effort.
"It's not about strength, it's about the flow," Aki encouraged, gliding closer. "Think of the Aether like a liquid. Don't push against the air; let the air sit on your power."
Kazama closed his eyes. He stopped fighting the gravity and started feeling the output. The blue glow steadied, turning into a constant, humming drone. He began to drift forward, slowly at first, then with increasing confidence.
"I'm doing it! Mom, look!"
"I see you, Kazama! You're soaring!"
He did a slow lap around the gym ceiling before descending. As his feet touched the mats, the blue light faded into his skin like receding tide water. But the training wasn't over. Minotu stepped forward, a heavy training drone humming in his hand.
"Ready for the floor work?" Minotu asked, his voice deep and challenging.
"Always, Dad."
"Good. Don't move an inch. Anchor yourself."
Minotu Revved the drone. It screamed across the room, a ten-pound mass of metal traveling at forty miles per hour. Kazama didn't flinch. He planted his feet, a deep blue flare erupting around his torso.
THUD.
The drone hit him square in the chest. A shockwave of blue light rippled outward, but Kazama stayed as still as a statue. He didn't move back; he simply absorbed the entire force of the blow.
"I took it all," Kazama panted, the energy swirling in his veins.
"Then show me the counter," Minotu commanded. "Output, now!"
Kazama raised his right hand. The blue energy didn't just glow—it solidified, extending from his knuckles like a translucent, humming saber. He swung.
SHING.
The drone was sliced clean in two, the edges of the metal glowing orange from the sheer heat of the Aether Blade.
"The cut is cleaner today," Minotu noted, walking over to inspect the scrap. He looked at Kazama, his eyes filled with something deeper than just a coach's approval. "You know, people see power like this and they think 'weapon.' But I look at you, and I see a hero. A strong hero who's going to carry the world on his shoulders one day."
"I just want to protect what I have, Dad," Kazama said softly.
"And you will. Now, go wash up. Your mother wants to hit the mall before the katsudon shops close."
The Musutafu Mall was a sea of people and electricity. To Kazama, it was a buffet. He could feel the static from the clothes, the hum of the neon signs, the throb of the escalators.
"Stay close, Kazama," Aki said, browsing through a rack of hero-themed jackets. "Minotu, do you think this All Might hoodie is too much for a ten-year-old?"
"He's a kid, Aki. Nothing is 'too much' All Might," Minotu laughed.
Kazama wandered a few steps away, his eyes scanning the crowd. Suddenly, his internal radar spiked. It was like a jagged needle prick in his mind. Fire. High temperature. Malice.
He looked toward the jewelry kiosk. Three men were standing there, too still, too focused. One of them was reaching into a heavy coat. Kazama could feel the heat building in the man's palm.
He's going to blast the glass. People are going to get hurt.
"Mom? Dad? I'm going to look at the fountain!" Kazama called out.
"Don't be long!" Aki replied, distracted by a sale sign.
Kazama slipped behind a thick marble pillar. He didn't have much time. He pressed his hand against the cold stone, finding the hidden electrical conduit inside.
"Okay, let's play," he whispered.
He pushed a precise thread of blue Aether into the wire. He followed the path, feeling the mall's security system like a map in his head. There. He tripped the emergency lockdown for that specific sector.
CLANG!
The heavy steel shutters of the jewelry kiosk slammed down, missing the lead robber's hand by an inch. The men panicked.
"What the—?! The gate's closed!" one hissed.
Kazama wasn't done. He focused on the thermal energy the leader was still holding. He didn't just let it sit there; he pulled it. He yanked the heat away from the man's hand and shoved it into the fire sensor on the ceiling
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!
The sprinklers erupted in a massive downpour. The mall was suddenly filled with screaming shoppers and soaking-wet villains. Before the robbers could even wipe the water from their eyes, mall security swarmed them.
Kazama stepped out from behind the pillar, his hands in his pockets. He watched as the woman working the kiosk, who had been seconds away from a fire-blast to the face, was escorted away by a kind security guard. She was crying, but she was alive.
"Kazama! There you are!" Aki ran over, shielding him with her coat. "The sprinklers just went off! Are you wet?"
"I'm okay, Mom," Kazama said, looking up at her with a bright, innocent smile. "I think it was just a glitch in the system."
Minotu walked up, looking at the soaking wet robbers being led away in handcuffs. He looked at the jewelry kiosk, then down at Kazama. His eyes twinkled with a knowing, silent pride.
"A glitch, huh?" Minotu smirked, ruffling his son's damp hair. "Well, whatever it was, it saved the day. Let's get out of here. We've got katsudon to eat."
As they walked to the parking lot, Kazama felt a quiet, glowing warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his quirk. He had saved someone. He hadn't just survived another day; he had changed the outcome of someone else's life.
I can do this, he thought, looking at the city lights. I'm going to be the hero this world needs.