Chapter 3: The Last Ember and the Rising Steam
The final month of Kaito's ten-month purgatory did not begin with a roar of progress, but with the wet, rattling sound of a man being hollowed out by a disease that no quirk could burn away.
The warehouse, once a sanctuary of iron and discipline, had become a tomb of grey light and stagnant air. Kaito stood in the center of the training floor, his body a map of lean, corded muscle and fading bruises. He was no longer the skeletal ghost who had crawled under the bridge. He was a weapon, forged in the furnace of Juro's brutal expectations. But as he looked at his mentor, he realized that the forge was finally cooling—not because the fire had gone out, but because the fuel was being rotted from within.
Juro sat in his wooden chair, but he no longer sat straight. His frame was hunched, his skin the color of wet ash. The cancer had started in his lungs and spread like a silent assassin through his lymph nodes. Even the Thermal Overclock couldn't save him; in fact, the high metabolic rate of his quirk had only served to accelerate the growth of the malignant cells.
"Again," Juro whispered, his voice a mere shadow of the baritone that had once shaken the rafters.
Kaito didn't move. He stood with his fists clenched, his Sonar screaming at him. He could hear it—the irregular, skipping rhythm of Juro's heart. It didn't sound like a drum anymore. It sounded like a clock with a broken gear, struggling against the fluid buildup in his chest.
"Juro, stop," Kaito said, his voice thick with a grief he couldn't yet name. "The sandbags are torn. The pillars are shattered. I've learned the Shatter-Point. I've locked Goro away. We need to get you to a doctor. The money I saved from the odd jobs—it's enough for a specialist."
Juro let out a laugh that turned into a violent, racking cough. He held a white cloth to his mouth, and when he pulled it away, it was stained with dark, sickly blood.
"A doctor?" Juro wheezed, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Kaito... this is cancer. It's a battle of biology, not strength. My cells are fighting a war they've already lost. There's no medicine for a body that's decided to stop existing."
The Adoption of a Ghost
Juro beckoned Kaito closer. When the boy knelt beside him, Juro reached out with a hand that felt like dry parchment.
"Listen to me, because I won't have the breath to say this twice. The UA Entrance Exam is in thirty days. The paperwork has already been filed through the underground channels. For the rest of the world—for the proctors, the heroes, and the students you'll walk beside—your name is still Kaito Enma, but on paper, you are my adopted son. You were found in the ruins of a house fire, and I took you in. That is your shield. That is your humanity."
Kaito nodded, tears blurring his vision. "I... I understand. Father."
"And your quirk," Juro continued, his eyes glowing with a final, desperate intensity. "When they ask—and they will ask—you tell them it is Thermal Overclock. You tell them your body is a kinetic engine. You describe the steam, the heat, and the speed. You never mention the Hunger. You never mention the Slots. You hide the 'Sin Eater' behind the fire until you are strong enough that they cannot cage you for it."
Kaito froze. He looked at Juro, his mind racing. "But... Juro, I don't have it. I only have Goro's Sonar and his Iron-Skin. I can't fake a thermal quirk. The moment I step into that arena, they'll see I'm just a boy with a sensory power and a stolen defense. I won't be able to keep the lie."
Juro's grip on Kaito's shoulder tightened, a sudden surge of heat radiating from his palm—the last of his reserve.
"You will have it," Juro said. His voice was no longer a whisper; it was a decree. "Because you are going to take it from me."
The Final Lesson: The Transfer
The warehouse had never felt so cold. The bitter draft of the Grey District seeped through the cracks in the corrugated steel, but for the first time in ten months, the man who was once a living furnace could no longer push it back.
Juro sat in his wooden chair, his body a withered husk of the giant who had pulled Kaito from the mud. His breathing was a wet, shallow rattle—the sound of lungs being claimed by the rot of cancer. Every exhale carried the scent of cold ash.
Kaito knelt at his feet, his hands trembling. The boy was stronger now, his shoulders broader, his eyes sharper, but in this moment, he felt like the six-year-old child under the bridge again.
"Juro, please," Kaito whispered, his voice cracking against the silence of the rafters. "You told me there was always a way to survive. You told me the fire doesn't go out if you feed it. Let me go out. Let me find someone—a doctor, a healer, anyone.
"Juro reached out, his hand hovering over Kaito's head. It was no longer hot. It was tepid, the warmth of a candle flickering in a storm. "Kaito… look at me. Really look at me.
"Kaito raised his eyes, his Sonar mapping the man's chest. He flinched. The heartbeat was a dying echo, a rhythm so irregular it felt like a bird trapped in a cage of bone, beating its wings against the inevitable.
"The fire isn't going out," Juro wheezed, a ghost of a smile touching his pale lips. "It's just looking for a new home. This body… it was a good vessel for a long time. But the cancer, it's a parasite that took root in the heat. It's using my own quirk to feed itself. If I stay in this skin, the fire dies with the rot. Is that what you want?
""I want you to live!" Kaito shrieked, the sound tearing through the empty warehouse. "I don't care about the quirk! I don't care about UA! You're the only person who didn't look at me like I was a grave! If you die, I'm alone again! I'm just a monster in a trench coat!
"Juro's expression hardened, the old steel returning to his eyes for one final spark. He grabbed Kaito's collar, pulling the boy's face inches from his own. The smell of medicinal bitterness and old smoke rolled off him.
"You are never alone," Juro growled, his voice a low, commanding vibration. "Because I am going to be the blood in your veins. I am going to be the heat in your heart. Kaito, listen to me. This is the final lesson. The most important one. A Hero doesn't just save people from villains. Sometimes, a Hero saves a man from a meaningless death.
"Juro's grip tightened, his knuckles white. "I spent ten years burning the world down as a villain. I spent the rest of my life trying to find a way to pay back that debt. If I die in this chair, the debt is never paid. But if you take this power… if you take the Thermal Overclock and use it to save the kids who are sitting where you sat… then Juro Ishida finally becomes a Hero.
"Kaito was shaking, tears streaming down his face, splashing onto Juro's scarred hands. "It'll kill you. The moment I open the slot… the moment I touch your heart… you'll be gone.
""No," Juro whispered, his voice softening into a father's caress. "I'll be infinite. I'll be every life you save. I'll be every strike you land. I'll be the steam that hides you when you're afraid.
"Juro took Kaito's left hand—the black, obsidian-skinned hand of the Creeping Hunger. He guided it slowly, deliberately, until the boy's palm was pressed flat against Juro's sternum. Kaito could feel the heat through the fabric of Juro's shirt—a frantic, swirling pool of kinetic energy that was begging for a way out.
"Open the door, Kaito," Juro commanded. "Don't let me suffocate in this cage. Let me run one last time. Let me run through you.
""I can't," Kaito sobbed, trying to pull his hand away, but Juro held him there with a strength that shouldn't have been possible for a dying man.
"You can. Because you are my son. Not by blood, but by the fire we share. Take it, Kaito. Take it and go to UA. Take it and show them that the monsters from the Grey District have more light in them than the golden boys on the news.
"Juro leaned forward, his forehead resting against Kaito's. Their breaths mingled—one ragged and cold, the other hot and terrified.
"I'm proud of you, Kaito Enma," Juro whispered. "Now… feed the Hunger. Let the engine start.
"Kaito let out a broken, animalistic cry. He stopped fighting. He let the mental vault in his mind slide open. He didn't reach for Goro's darkness; he reached for Juro's light. He felt the Hunger latch onto the kinetic storm inside Juro's chest.
THUM-THUMP.
The transfer was an explosion of sensory data. It wasn't like Goro's theft, which felt like tearing meat from bone. This felt like a homecoming. Kaito's entire nervous system lit up as the Thermal Overclock poured into his second slot. He felt Juro's memories—the first time he felt the steam rise from his shoulders, the face of the friend who saved him, the quiet nights he spent watching Kaito sleep, praying the boy would have a better life than his own.
He felt Juro's heart give one final, strong, deliberate beat—a salute to the future.
And then, the hand holding Kaito's wrist went limp.
The warehouse was flooded with a blinding, white steam as Kaito's internal temperature surged to accommodate the new power. He fell forward, burying his face in Juro's lap, his body wracked with the violent tremors of a new engine turning over for the first time.
The heat was incredible. It wasn't a burn; it was a roar. He felt the kinetic energy settling into his muscles, turning his blood into liquid fire. But through the haze of the power, he felt the crushing weight of the silence.
Juro was gone. The chair was just a chair. The man was just a memory.Kaito stayed there for hours, his skin glowing a dull, angry red in the darkness, the steam from his tears hissing as they hit the floor. He didn't move until the sun began to peek through the salt-stained windows, casting a golden light over the man who had died to give him a life.
Kaito stood up, his movements fluid and unnaturally fast. He looked at his hands. They were steady. He felt the ghost of Juro in the back of his mind—not a scream, but a warm, steady hum.
"I'll do it," Kaito whispered to the empty room. "I'll be the engine, Juro. I'll burn them all.
"He turned toward the door, the warehouse floor cracking under the pressure of his first step. The walk to UA was long, but for the first time in his life, Kaito Enma wasn't cold.
The Month of Ash
Kaito didn't leave the warehouse for two weeks.He spent the first seven days in a fever dream, battling the "Neural Ghost" of Juro. But Juro wasn't like Goro. He sat in the center of Kaito's mind, a calm, glowing presence that showed him how to regulate the heat.
Breathe, Kaito," the ghost of Juro would whisper. "Focus the kinetic energy. You are the engine."
Kaito practiced. He pushed his body to the limit, learning the "Cool" and "Hot" states. He learned how to drop his skin temperature until he was covered in frost, then snap into an Overclock that turned him into a blur of red light.
He buried Juro beneath the floorboards, next to the training pillar they had broken together. He didn't use a headstone. He used the rebar staff.
Kaito lived through Juro's years of villainy—the shame of the first robbery, the heat of the buildings he set ablaze, and the crushing weight of regret. But as the integration deepened, Juro's "Neural Ghost" stepped out of the memories. He stood in the white void of Kaito's mind, looking younger, healthier, his eyes bright with that ember-glow.
"It's yours now, Kaito," Juro's ghost said, placing a hand on the mental vault. "Goro is the hunger, but I am the fuel. When the headache comes, use my heat to burn away his whispers. When the world feels too cold, use my speed to outrun the darkness.
"Kaito reached out, and as their hands met in the mental space, the "Overclock" finally settled into his second slot. The friction in his mind vanished. The "Headaches" didn't go away, but they changed—they became a low, manageable hum, the sound of a well-oiled machine.
Kaito stood in front of a cracked mirror. He looked at his reflection. He was taller, his eyes held a depth of gold and fire, and his reddish-white hair was tied back. He was Kaito Enma, the successor of the Thermal Overclock.
The Gates of UA
The morning of the exam was cold, but Kaito didn't feel it. He stood before the towering, futuristic gates of UA High School. Around him, hundreds of teenagers were buzzing with nervous energy.
He saw a boy with green hair trip. He saw a boy with explosive palms. Kaito closed his eyes, activating a low-level Sonar Pulse. The ripples washed over the campus, mapping thousands of pounding hearts.
Then, he felt the spark in his chest—Juro's gift. He let his internal temperature rise just a fraction. A thin wisp of steam rose from his shoulders.
"Name?" a robot proctor asked at the gate.
Kaito looked the machine in its sensors.
"Kaito Enma," he said. "Quirk: Thermal Overclock."
He stepped through the gates. He was the Sin Eater, and UA was his first real meal.