The morning sun poured heavy and gold through my window, catching on dust motes swirling above the pale blue futon.
It was July 20th—the first official day of summer holidays in Musutafu, and already the humid air pressed lazily against the glass. Outside, the city's usual energy simmered under a veil of cicada-song and the muted rumble of bikes breezing down sun-bright streets.
As I sat up, Yui Uzumaki—my mother, queen of breakfast speedruns—swept into my room with a grin.
"Up, up! The pancakes are winning the race and you're coming last, Nagato!" She flourished a spatula in the air with all the iron will of a former hero turned domestic wizard.
I groaned theatrically, dragging myself to the kitchen.
"Then let the record show, I was sabotaged by your quirk, Mom," I called.
She snorted.
"Will you try telling that to the pancakes who vanished in sixty seconds?" I found the table already crowned with fluffy stacks. A post-it note—complete with a cartoon of a winking rabbit—read:
"Eat fast or I'll call Bakugo for a happy meal."
Rolling my eyes, I dug in. My mind, however, didn't linger on breakfast.
There was only one thing I could focus on: the strange secret I'd uncovered during the night. Chakra in this world, hidden and scarce, but here all the same. And Midoriya—quirkless, brave, my friend—carried it as surely as I did.
After breakfast, my mother—eyes sparkling—handed me a bottle of lemonade for the heat.
"Tomorrow's your day with the boys, huh? Be careful if you go swimming. Remember what happened last summer when Bakugo tried to convince you all to cannonball at the deep end?"
I grinned. "Yes, and the lifeguard still pretends not to see us."
"Just as long as they pretend," she teased, already bustling to check the laundry.
Bakugo's voice barked through the hallways of memory: "If you can't explode the pool, you might as well explode out of it, nerds!"
I forced a laugh, knowing that the joke lingered in all our stories—Bakugo, the human firecracker, forever trying to amp up the drama of a lazy afternoon.
But today was not for wild summer adventures. Today, I would unravel the mystery of chakra—a force that felt both like home and haunting.
Outside, the city was already sweltering.
The air shimmered above the pavement, warping the world at its edges. Our apartment block—a chunky four-story rectangle ringed in brick and overgrown vines—sat at the corner where the residential side street met the start of the business district.
A few bored cats sprawled on window ledges; the old lady two doors down had already set up her parasol, ready to sell cold barley tea and tell fortunes to anyone who'd listen.
Clutching the lemonade and brushing breakfast crumbs from my shorts, I headed to the stairwell, still tasting the remnants of last night's revelations. Well, there's no substitute for a direct experiment.
'Let's see how much Midoriya actually knows—or feels—about the dormant chakra in him.'
The Midoriyas lived one floor above us, and their front door was already decorated with summer festival flyers, drawings, and a magnetized All Might, arms akimbo. I rang the bell, ignoring the urge to fidget.
There was a scrabble of footsteps, then the door swung open. Inko Midoriya beamed out, cheeks round and dress patterned with happy sunflowers.
"Oh! Nagato-kun—what a nice surprise! Is everything alright? Midoriya, your friend's here!"
I heard the unmistakable thump and scramble of Izuku, followed by a chorus of, "Coming, Mom!" He arrived, green hair even more unruly than usual, tripping over untied shoelaces.
"Morning, Nagato!" he called, a wide grin already battling his summer grogginess.
Inko, arms folded, leaned against the doorframe.
"Did you boys get into trouble last time, or is this just a peace treaty visit? You better not be plotting something with Bakugo this week—my floorboards still twitch when he walks in."
Midoriya laughed. "We're just going for a walk! I swear, Mom."
I piped up, "Yes, ma'am, nothing more explosive than a heatwave and too much sunscreen." I gave her a formal bow, just to see if she'd scold us again—her kindness always came with the sharpest wit.
Inko rolled her eyes.
"I can tell when you're up to something, Nagato-kun. Try to keep him away from the jellyfish, at least." With a laugh, she ruffled Midoriya's hair—then mine, too, as if she couldn't help herself.
"You boys be good. If you need snacks, don't let Bakugo choose. Remember last time with the wasabi crackers?"
A memory of Bakugo's red, streaming face and his declaration ("Spice is for the weak! …Water, please?") made both me and Midoriya snicker as we slipped out the door.
Our apartment block gave way to tree-lined avenues buzzing with summer.
We passed neighbours watering plants, teens hauling water guns, and grandmothers haggling over cucumbers at the market cart.
Midoriya ran to keep pace, always half a step ahead then falling back when stray thoughts tripped up his steps.
He chattered about everything: the new My Hero Academia card set ("I got All Might, but it's holographic and won't trade for anything less than five cards!"), Bakugo's latest scheme (he tried to open the soda bottle with an "explosion" and ended up showered in citrus), and the mosquito bites he'd counted last night ("Six! But I told Mom it was only three or she'd take my snacks.").
I let his voice fill the air, even as my mind spun beneath the surface.
Occasionally, I'd steer him away from a low-hanging branch or nudge him to the cooler shade. As we crossed the bridge over the little canal and made our way past the rows of beach umbrellas and surfboard shops, the salty tang of the ocean began to permeate everything.
By the time we reached the sand, the world had stretched into a haze of blue and gold. The beach was nearly empty, save for early sunbathers and kite-flying kids; the tide crawled in slow, gentle arcs, tickling the edge of our footprints.
Midoriya ran ahead, arms flung wide. "Waaah, such a nice view! I always forget how big the sky is here. And look—look how clear the water is, Nagato!"
I stood beside him, feeling the enormity of the moment.
"Midoriya…" My voice, for once, grew serious and quiet over the hiss of the waves. He turned, face shining with trust and the sort of vulnerability only a true friend holds out in their open hands.
"I want to tell you something."
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As the wind played with salt and sunlight along the edge of the quiet beach, Nagato took a breath, building up to the heavy words he needed to say.
He faced Midoriya, about to confide the strange, world-bending secret simmering in his thoughts.
"Midoriya, there's something important—"
Before he could finish, a distant, familiar yell split the air behind them.
"YOU BASTARDS!" Bakugo's voice was half outrage, half wounded pride. He was stomping down the boardwalk, face red with annoyance, sandals flapping so fast he nearly tripped over his own shadow.
"You left me! Didn't even call me and just went to hang out by yourselves! I won't forgive you idiots!"
Midoriya flinched, swallowing a nervous laugh.
"G-gomenasai, Kacchan!" he blurted, bowing quickly.
Bakugo huffed, crossing his arms and giving them his best deadly glare. For about three seconds.
Then, unable to help himself, he shrugged, nose up.
"Tch. Well… I forgive you. Not like I need you losers, anyway. So—what're you guys doing here, huh?"
Nagato smirked, the tension broken by Bakugo's brash loyalty.
"We figured you'd show up wherever something loud was happening, anyway," he deadpanned.
"Since you're here, Kacchan, Nagato was about to tell me something important."
Bakugo's red eyes snapped to Nagato, noticing sudden seriousness in his stare.
"What is it?" he said, arms folded.
A faint hush passed as the wind danced between them. Nagato took a slow breath, gaze steady, then lifted a finger to his eye—his Rinnegan patterns glimmering subtly in the daylight.
"My eyes… let me see much more than just the usual things. Way more than a human eye—or… maybe any other. I see things others can't."
Bakugo and Midoriya exchanged a look—brow furrowed, curiosity written plain.
"Huh?" they chorused, confusion warring with expectation.
Nagato exhaled, shaking his head with a resigned smile.
"Alright. In simple words, there's another kind of energy in this world besides quirks. I call it… Chakra."
Both Bakugo and Midoriya blinked, stunned.
"C-Chakra?" Midoriya echoed, mouth half open.
Nagato nodded, keeping his tone gentle but firm.
"Yeah. Think of it as a dormant life-force. Ages ago, it was in every living thing. Over time, quirks started to appear, and bit by bit, that new energy almost erased Chakra. It's still here though—very faint, barely visible."
Their faces twisted with surprise, Bakugo's mouth working uselessly for a moment before:
"Wait, so you're saying people with quirks don't have this chakra thing, but those without—like Deku—do?"
Nagato gave a single, solemn nod. "Exactly."
Midoriya stared at his own hands, green eyes wide.
"But… what does that mean for me? What does Chakra do?"
Nagato searched for words simple enough.
"If mastered, it can give you powers—tricks, even skills—that can be just as strong as a quirk. Not the same, but… similar."
Bakugo almost dropped. "So you're saying Deku's got a quirk after all?!"
Nagato shook his head. "No—not a quirk. But he does have… the potential. It's a different source, waiting to be used. But it'll take work. Effort. It's not as easy as suddenly lighting up or blowing things up."
He shot Bakugo a sly grin.
Midoriya was stunned, a thousand thoughts flickering behind his gaze.
"But… how do you know all this, Nagato?"
Nagato's eyes glinted, Rinnegan spinning slightly. "Because of my eyes. They're… alive. They give me information that shouldn't exist. They tell me what's hidden, what people can't feel or see. That's why I know."
There was a long silence, broken only by the crash of the waves.
Both Bakugo and Midoriya looked at him with awe—admiration bright as sunlight.
'Such a cool quirk.' each thought, though neither said it aloud.