[AKUTAMI RESIDENCE — MORNING, AFTER YUTA LEFT]
The house felt quieter after Yuta left.
Aiko wheeled herself back from the door, hands resting in her lap as she stared at the empty entryway for a mont longer than necessary.
"He’ll be okay," she murmured to herself.
From the hallway, Eri peeked around the corner, rabbit clutched to her chest.
"Aiko-san?"
Aiko turned, smile returning. "Yes, sweetheart?"
"Is... is Yuta going to be gone all day?"
"Most of it, yes. But he’ll be back this afternoon." Aiko wheeled closer. "How about we make sothing special for when he gets ho? Would you like that?"
Eri’s eyes brightened. "Okay."
"Good." Aiko reached out and patted her head gently. "Now, why don’t you work on that colouring book we started yesterday? I have so things to finish up, and then we’ll start cooking."
Eri nodded and padded off toward the living room, settling onto the couch with her book.
Aiko turned her attention back to the dining table. Her laptop was open, the screen glowing with the interface of a popular web-novel platform.
She scrolled through the analytics of her latest mystery Chapter, The Shadow’s Debt, which had gone live the night before.
She scanned the reader comnts, her Attunent subconsciously searching for the "emotional flavor" of the feedback.
Most were praising the tension of the latest cliffhanger, but one comnt made her linger: "The protagonist’s son is acting suspiciously. Is he hiding a secret, or is he just a teenager?"
Aiko’s finger hovered over the trackpad before sighing a mont later.
Life had a funny way of imitating the fiction she wrote.
’Yuta, what are you ..’ She paused mid thought, sensing a subtle emotional ripple from the living room. Aiko turned slightly. "Eri? Are you alright?"
With Eri joining the household, she’d made it a point to keep her quirk active as much as possible. A constant low-level awareness of the girl’s emotional state.
The little girl peeked over the back of the couch. "Um... this page is... hard."
Aiko smiled. "Bring it here, sweetheart."
Eri hopped down and shuffled over, lifting the book. It was a page with a forest scene. More lines, more shapes, more complexity than the previous ones.
"Ah," Aiko said. "This one is tricky."
"...Can I skip it?" Eri whispered.
"You can," Aiko said gently. "Or we can do it together later."
"Okay." She was just about to turn the page when the doorbell rang. "Hmm?" She glanced at the clock. 9:42 AM. "Strange. I’m not expecting anyone."
" .. is Yuta back?" Eri’s eyes lit up with hope.
"Um .. no. I don’t think so." Aiko frowned slightly.
"Eri, sweetie, stay here."
Aiko wheeled herself toward the entryway, her Attunent expanding. Usually, she could categorize a visitor before she even touched the handle.
The hurried, hollow impatience of a delivery driver or boredom of a neighbor.
What she felt from the other end however was anticipation and excitent.
She opened the door and blinked in genuine surprise. Standing on her porch was a woman with wind-swept, violet hair and a sharp, athletic build, dressed in a professional navy blazer. She was carrying a lavish basket of pastries and premium tea.
"Good morning, stranger," ca the bright voice.
"Rin,"
"Surprise." Rin Hayashi—The Speed Hero, Veloc—grinned.
Aiko breathed. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"I was in the neighbourhood," Rin said, lifting the basket decorated with cheap sparkly stickers. "And then I thought, ’I should congratulate my old partner’s kid for absolutely crushing the Sports Festival.’ So here I am! Best of all, I bring tribute."
Aiko laughed. "Tribute?"
"Pastries," Rin announced proudly. "The good kind."
"You didn’t have to... but thank you. Co in."
Rin stepped inside, and imdiately spotted Eri standing uncertainly beside the couch.
"And who, is this adorable little creature?" Rin asked softly, her professional "hero" warmth radiating outward to put the child at ease.
Eri flushed and hid behind Aiko’s chair. "This is Eri," Aiko said. "She’s .. staying with us for a while."
Rin crouched down, resting her elbows on her knees. "Hi, Eri. I’m Rin . I used to work with Aiko a long ti ago."
Eri blinked. "... Um .. hi!"
Rin let out a delighted gasp. "What a cute tiny voice! I must protect it."
"Please don’t overwhelm her. She’s still adjusting."
"Right. Sorry. Professional hazard." She glanced back at Eri. "You can go back to your coloring, sweetheart. I promise I won’t be loud."
Eri nodded and shuffled back to the couch, clutching her book.
Aiko wheeled toward the kitchen to set out the pastries, deactivating her Attunent in the process. It was a professional courtesy she always extended to Rin; old friends didn’t need to be read like open books, and Aiko prided herself on being a considerate host.
With the quirk off, the "emotional hum" of the room vanished, leaving Aiko with only her natural senses.
"So. Tea? Coffee?"
"I have patrol in an hour, so coffee sounds perfect."
Across the room, Eri’s hand froze mid-stroke.
A dull, rhythmic throb, followed by a yellow glow enveloped Eri’s horn.
Eri’s hand twitched, and she pulled it back from the crayon quickly, clutching it to her chest. Then reached up, her small fingers brushing against the base of her horn.
It felt hot, itchy, and it hurt.
Eri bit her lip, forcing herself to stay quiet. She wanted to say sothing, but Aiko and Rin were laughing about a story from their old patrol days. She didn’t want to be a bother.
’It’s okay. It’ll stop. It always stops.’
She picked up the crayon again with trembling fingers and kept coloring.
Aiko didn’t notice.
__
[LEAGUE HIDEOUT — NIGHT]
The bar slled of iron and ozone.
Tomura Shigaraki sat on a stool, his breathing ragged and shallow. His black hoodie was slashed across the chest, the fabric drenched in blood that stained his pale skin.
Beside him, Kurogiri’s misty form was unusually agitated, his neck brace dented where a blade had nearly found purchase.
"I’ll kill him," Shigaraki hissed. "To actually attack ... Who the hell does he think he is? That bastard, I’ll decay his eyes and feed it to him."
His voice dripped with malice and murderous intent.
"Oi? What the hell happened?" Rappa asked.
"We went to see the Hero killer." Kurogiri replied. "He was... more formidable than anticipated,"
Their eting with Stain had been a disaster. Shigaraki had gone in expecting to be the boss, offering the Hero Killer a seat at his table. His recruitnt pitch? Death, destruction and the grand desire to kill All Might. Basically tearing down the world because it annoyed him.
Stain had responded by pinning Shigaraki to a brick wall with a flurry of daggers that moved faster than the eye could follow. If the Hero Killer hadn’t been visibly favoring his right side—lingering injuries from a recent clash with a "white-haired ghost"—Shigaraki’s head would currently be on a pike in a Hosu alleyway.
Rappa whistled. "Damn. You really pissed him off, huh?"
"Shut up," Shigaraki spat, clutching his bleeding chest. "Just... shut up."
"I advised caution. Next ti, we should not engage so rashly without backup."
"You ca with , didn’t you? Fat lot of good that did."
"You are still alive, are you not?"
"Shut up!"
Kurogiri’s yellow eyes flickered, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He knew Tomura’s tantrums were often a byproduct of a bruised ego more than a bruised body.
The Hero killer had not only humiliated him, but called him a brat with no vision. Tomura’s rage was understandable.
However, lingering on the past would be a waste of ti.
"He is a fanatic, Tomura," Kurogiri said, moving behind the bar to tend to Shigaraki’s wounds. "His ’purge’ is his religion. To him, you are a heretic because you kill without a ’why’ that satisfies his ego."
"I have a why!" Shigaraki slamd his hand onto the bar—luckily a new one, though it imdiately began to crack under his four-fingered grip. "I want everything to break! That’s plenty of why!"
"To us, perhaps. But not to him." Kurogiri paused, his mist shifting as he recalled the intensity in the Hero Killer’s gaze. "Luckily, this wasn’t a complete failure. We have gleaned sothing valuable?"
"Huh? What’s that?"
__
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