Rain began before noon.
Not suddenly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to change the pace of the day.
+A Morning Conversation+
Dave sat at the small kitchen table, legs swinging slightly as Aiko poured tea into a mug.
"You don't have to finish all of it," she said, nodding toward his breakfast.
Dave took another bite anyway.
"I can," he replied.
Kenji glanced up from his phone. "You always say that."
Dave looked at him. "You always worry."
Kenji laughed softly. "That's my quirk, remember?"
Signal Relay didn't apply to parenting, but Dave understood the sentiment.
Aiko crouched beside him, brushing crumbs from his sleeve.
"After school," she said gently, "we're going to visit a doctor."
Dave met her eyes.
"Routine?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered. "Just routine."
Hive noted the careful tone.
Not anxious.
Just prepared.
+Rain and Kindergarten+
Indoor play meant fewer distractions.
Children clustered closer.
Noise layered itself into something thick and restless.
A boy sat cross-legged on the floor, making tiny sparks jump between his fingers.
"Watch!" he said proudly.
A girl floated her hair again, laughing when it brushed the ceiling.
Dave sat nearby, watching.
"You don't do anything," the spark boy said suddenly.
Dave tilted his head. "I do things."
"Like what?"
Dave thought.
"I listen."
The boy frowned, confused, then lost interest.
Hive categorized the interaction.
Expression vs. function.
+Walking to the Clinic+
Rain tapped against Aiko's umbrella as they walked.
Kenji held it slightly too high, as if shielding more than just water.
"Do you think it's early?" he asked quietly.
Aiko shook her head. "If we wait too long, it looks like we're hiding something."
Dave walked between them, holding both their hands.
"I'm not sick," he said.
Aiko smiled down at him. "We know."
Kenji added, "This is just… understanding."
Dave nodded.
Understanding was acceptable.
+The Doctor's Office+
The doctor was calm.
That mattered.
He didn't rush. Didn't smile too widely.
"Dave," he said, kneeling slightly, "do you like puzzles?"
Dave considered the question.
"Yes."
"Good. This is like that."
Sensors were placed gently.
Lights blinked.
Aiko watched closely.
Kenji asked, "Is it… mental?"
The doctor hummed. "Partially."
+Explaining the Unknown+
The doctor turned the screen so they could all see.
"Most quirks express outwardly," he said. "Energy. Matter. Transformation."
He tapped the display.
"Dave's doesn't."
Aiko frowned slightly. "Is that bad?"
"No," the doctor replied quickly. "It's just… difficult."
Dave listened.
"We're seeing adaptive response patterns," the doctor continued. "His reflexes improve during testing. His problem-solving adjusts mid-task."
Kenji leaned forward. "So he's… smarter?"
The doctor shook his head.
"Not exactly. Intelligence is static. This is structural."
Dave liked that word.
+Why They Can't See Everything+
The doctor sighed lightly, choosing his words.
"Quirks like this don't activate fully unless stressed. We don't stress children."
Aiko relaxed at that.
"Good," she said.
The doctor smiled. "Exactly."
He continued, "Think of it like muscle memory. You can't see its limits without pushing it."
Dave remained still.
Hive remained quiet.
"Which," the doctor added, "means we only see the surface."
Kenji nodded slowly. "So you name it based on what you can see."
"Yes."
+Why 'Hive'+
The doctor turned back to the screen.
"His neural activity doesn't spike in one place. It distributes."
Aiko blinked. "Distributes?"
"Like a hive," the doctor said. "No single center. Many small processes working together."
Dave felt a faint internal alignment.
Accurate.
"But it's mild," the doctor concluded. "Subtle. Growth-based."
He typed.
The record finalized.
+Afterward+
Outside, the rain had slowed.
Kenji exhaled deeply.
"So," he said, forcing a smile, "genius son?"
Aiko elbowed him lightly. "Don't label him."
Dave looked up. "I don't want a label."
They both paused.
Aiko knelt beside him. "Why?"
Dave considered.
"Labels make people expect things."
Kenji smiled, softer now. "You really are thoughtful."
+A Quiet Agreement+
That night, Dave sat between them on the couch.
Aiko read. Kenji watched the news quietly.
Heroes filled the screen.
Dave watched his parents instead.
Two ordinary people.
Two quiet quirks.
Neither trying to be more than they were.
Hive observed.
This—this balance—was worth preserving.
+What Hive Learned+
In bed, Dave reviewed the day.
The doctor hadn't lied.
He simply hadn't seen far enough.
And Dave intended to keep it that way.
"Not yet," he thought calmly.
Hive folded inward.
Refining.
Waiting.
+What the Tests Don't Say+
Quirks were measured by output.
Dave's measured by restraint.
And for now—
That was enough.
End of Chapter 4