Chapter 2
BANG!
The first shot rang out with perfect precision, punching straight through the center of the target.
BANG! BANG!
The second and third followed so fast they blended together, my hands moving before I consciously told them to. The recoil felt right. Familiar. Natural.
I barely registered the gasps behind me.
I flipped the revolvers into the air, spinning them effortlessly before catching both grips in one smooth motion—firing again mid-catch. The bullets ricocheted, curved, struck steel from impossible angles. Each shot fed the rush building in my chest.
I felt incredible.
Fast.
Untouchable.
Like the world existed in the space between trigger pulls.
Then—
Something slimy and wet wrapped around my wrist.
The sensation yanked me out of the haze like cold water to the face.
I froze.
Looking down, I saw a long pink tongue coiled tightly around my arm.
"Kero. Please stop," a calm voice said. "This isn't a place for shooting guns."
I followed the line of the tongue back to its owner.
A short girl stood there, her stance steady despite the chaos around us. Her wide, frog-like eyes were fixed on me, unblinking and unimpressed. Dark green hair fell down her back, tied neatly, barely moving as she held her ground. Behind her, a few younger kids huddled together—siblings, probably—watching me with a mix of fear and awe.
One of them stared at my guns like they were the coolest thing he'd ever seen.
Shame hit harder than recoil ever could.
The thrill evaporated, leaving a sick, hollow pit in my stomach.
This wasn't a battlefield.
This wasn't Billy's world.
I bowed my head, slow and deliberate. "Sorry."
The tongue loosened and slipped away. I carefully returned the revolvers to their holsters, my hands finally—mercifully—still.
Billy's excitement lingered in the back of my mind.
But now, so did something else.
Control.
Or rather… how easily I'd almost lost it.
The air around us felt tense, like everyone was waiting for something to explode.
Parents hurriedly ushered their kids away, whispering frantically. A few shot me sharp, frightened looks. Others stared openly at the guns on my hips, fear warring with curiosity.
I swallowed.
Yeah. I'd screwed up.
A loud electronic chime echoed through the testing area, followed by a mechanical voice.
"Unauthorized Quirk manifestation detected. Staff assistance en route."
Great.
The frog girl finally released my wrist completely and stepped back, though she didn't lower her guard. She studied me carefully, head tilted slightly.
"You okay?" she asked. "You looked… kind of out of it, kero."
I nodded a little too fast. "Yeah. I mean—yes. I'm fine. Just… lost track of myself."
She hummed softly, clearly unconvinced.
"That Quirk of yours is dangerous," she said matter-of-factly. "You should be more careful using it around people."
There was no accusation in her tone. Just honest concern.
That somehow made it worse.
"I know," I admitted quietly. "I will."
Before she could respond, heavy footsteps approached. Two park staff members rounded the corner, both wearing reinforced uniforms with suppression gear clipped to their belts.
One of them stopped short when he saw the revolvers.
"…Guns?" he said flatly. "Kid, what kind of Quirk is that?"
I raised my hands immediately, palms out. "I'm sorry. I got carried away. I'll deactivate it."
Deactivate.
The word felt wrong.
Reluctantly, I reached for the card still warm against my chest.
Easy does it, I thought.
"Class Card… uninstall."
The golden glow faded. The coat dissolved into motes of light. The weight at my hips vanished.
So did the clarity.
My knees buckled.
I barely stayed upright, a sharp wave of nausea rolling through me as the world tilted. It felt like something essential had been yanked out of me mid-breath.
A hand caught my arm before I fell.
The frog girl.
"You really okay?" she asked again, this time softer.
"…No," I admitted, forcing a weak smile. "But I will be."
The staff exchanged looks.
"Kid," one of them said slowly, "you're going to sit down. And then you're going to explain everything."
I didn't argue.
As I was guided toward a bench, my heart pounded—not with excitement this time, but realization.
This power wasn't something I could play with.
Billy's instincts were still there, faint but present. The urge to move fast. To act first.
And next time?
Next time, I'd need to be strong enough to stop myself.
I sank onto the bench, every muscle trembling as if the world itself had pulled the rug out from under me. The chaos of the testing area faded into a dull hum—the sharp edges of adrenaline replaced by a hollow ache. My revolvers were gone. The golden coat was gone. Even the rush, that intoxicating clarity… all vanished like smoke. And all that was left was an incredible sense of nausea and weakness. It all I had to focus on breathing and not throwing up.
In through the nose.
Out through the mouth.
The world still felt… wrong. Like someone had adjusted the contrast on reality and forgotten to set it back. Sounds were duller. My limbs felt heavier, slower to respond. The sharp, razor-focused clarity Billy brought with him was gone—and the absence was almost worse than the rush itself.
Like coming down from something you didn't know you were addicted to.
The frog girl stayed by my side, silent but watchful. Her presence was oddly grounding, a tether I hadn't realized I needed until now. Dimly, in the back of my mind, I realized I had just met one of the canon characters. Then I remembered how we met and I felt ashamed again.
The staff hovered nearby, their arms crossed, their eyes sharp. One of them finally broke the silence.
"So… your Quirk. Guns, revolvers, whatever that was—you're telling me you just… manifested them out of nowhere?"
I nodded, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. "Yeah. That's… essentially it. It's complicated."
"Complicated?" the other muttered, eyes narrowing. "Kid, that was dangerous. People could've gotten hurt."
I flinched, imagining the ricocheting bullets. The thought made my stomach churn. I couldn't afford another 'loss of control' like that—not anywhere, not with anyone watching.
"I—I know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I let it get out of hand."
The frog girl tilted her head again, her wide eyes studying me. "You like it, don't you?" she asked quietly.
I blinked. "…What?"
"That rush," she said, nodding toward where the targets had been. "When you were… firing. You didn't want to stop. You liked it."
I opened my mouth, closed it, and swallowed. How could I explain that it wasn't just fun—it was control, it was instinct, it was something deeper than excitement? Something dangerous.
"Maybe," I admitted finally. "But it's not the whole story."
She seemed to accept that answer—or at least, she didn't press further. Silence stretched between us, broken only by the distant shouts of other kids and the low hum of machinery.
Then, a small hand tapped my shoulder. One of the younger kids from behind her, clutching a stuffed animal, peered at me with wide eyes.
"…Are you a hero?" the child asked, voice trembling.
I froze. The question landed heavier than any bullet. I wasn't a hero—not yet. Maybe not ever.
"I... don't know. I'll try to be."
The frog girl's hand rested lightly on my other shoulder. "Trying is enough," she said simply.
The staff finally stepped closer again. "Alright," one said, voice firm. "We'll need a full report. You'll stay with us until we understand what's going on. And kid—next time, don't 'try' this out on anyone else."
I nodded, defeated but aware. Control. I needed it. Not just for me—but for anyone who might get in my way.
As I followed them out, the frog girl whispered, almost to herself, "You've got to learn to stop yourself before something stops you."
Her words echoed in my head long after the testing area faded behind us.
And deep down, beneath the nausea, the fear, and the shame… I knew she was right.
Next time, I couldn't afford to lose control.
Not again.
They moved me to a quieter side room while they waited.
It was small and neat, a regular office at a regular establishment. A table bolted to the floor. Two chairs on one side, one on the other. The kind of place where people decided how much trouble you're in.
The nausea ebbed slowly, leaving behind a dull ache in my limbs. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Not fear—withdrawal. Like my body kept reaching for something that wasn't there anymore. I clenched them tightly, forcing myself to sit still and not move.
Billy would've hated this.
He never sat still after a fight. Never let the world slow him down like this.
One of the staff members handed me a bottle of water. I took it, nodded thanks, and forced myself to drink even though my stomach protested.
"So," the first staffer said, tapping a tablet. "Name?"
I gave it. "Shadi Arash."
"Quirk name and function?"
I hesitated.
"Class Card. Summoning," I said finally. "Sort of. Through a… medium."
I tapped the spot on my belt where my Class Cards rested.
The tablet paused. "Support item?"
"No," I said. "It's part of it."
That earned me another look—sharper this time.
"And the guns?"
"They're not real," I said quickly. "Not permanent. They disappear when I deactivate."
"Still lethal," the second staffer said flatly.
I didn't argue. There was no point. However...
"I-I didn't know it would be guns." That was true. I expected bow and arrow. "It was the first time I used my Quirk. Like, ever. Until I came here, I didn't even know I had one."
Silence settled again, thicker now. The kind that pressed in on your ears.
My mind drifted—unbidden—back to the range. The clean snap of the shots. The way the world had narrowed to angles and timing and motion. The way everything had made sense.
"We need to contact your parents. Do you have their numbers?"
I rattled off my Mom's number.
"Father?"
I shrugged. "Never met him. Don't even know his name or what he looks like."
They paused. A flicker of something-pity, perhaps?
"Can you-please, don't call my Mom. She already works so hard for me... I-I don't want to give her anymore stress." I pleaded with them.
They looked between each other with uncertainty. One of them, the one who asked me questions till now, studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "You understand why firing projectiles in a public testing area is a problem, right?"
"Yes," I said immediately. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"Alright kid, since this is your first offense and we won't call your mother." I sighed in relief. "But this incident will be logged in our records."
My chest tightened. Logged meant records. Records meant attention.
But this wasn't the time to argue.
"Your testing privileges have been revoked and you'll be barred from the park until you've visited a Quirk Specialist and have a certified document stating that you've gotten control over your Quirk."
"I understand," I said.
He seemed a bit taken aback by how quickly I agreed, then nodded. "Good. Learn from it."
I stood slowly, testing my balance before fully committing. My legs wobbled, but held. The nausea was fading, replaced by a dull ache behind my eyes.
As they walked me toward the exit, I felt it again—that faint, lingering presence at the back of my mind.
Not Billy himself.
Just… an echo.
Shoulda holstered sooner, a thought whispered, half-amused, half-chastising.
I clenched my jaw.
I know.
At the gate, the staff stopped. "Head straight home," one of them said. "No more testing today."
"I will."
They turned back, already done with me.
As I stepped outside the park, the noise of the city rushed in—cars, distant sirens, voices blending together into something overwhelming. I exhaled shakily and leaned against the fence for a moment, grounding myself.
That was when I heard it.
"Kero."
I looked to the side. The frog girl-Tsuyu Asui- had waited for me at the entrance. Her siblings were right beside her, the boy Samidare and the girl Satsuki. Up close, she looked younger than I'd first thought. Middle school, maybe. Her expression was calm as ever, but there was something curious in her eyes.
"You really shouldn't use a Quirk like that without supervision," she said. "It's not just dangerous for other people."
"I know," I replied. Then, after a beat, I added, "Thank you. For stopping me."
She blinked, clearly not expecting that.
"…You're welcome," she said. "I'm Asui Tsuyu. These are Samidare and Satsuki."
"Hello," Satsuki greeted me quietly.
"Sup?" Samidare's greeting was more laid back, but I could make out the glint of curiosity in his eyes.
"Nice to meet you," I said. "Shadi Arash. Just call me Arash."
She nodded. "Your Quirk feels strange. Like it makes you someone else."
My blood ran cold.
Careful.
I forced a small, tired smile. "You could say that." I tried to change the subject. "So, not to be rude, but why are you guys still here? Came to see me do the walk of shame?" I tried to lighten the mood with a joke. Didn't work.
"I thought you might need help getting home, since you looked really bad the last time I saw you." That's... actually really touching. No wonder she becomes such an amazing hero in the future.
"Also, these two wanted to ask you questions and wouldn't leave until they did." She pointed at her siblings who on cue, stepped forward.
Samidare was the first. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"
Satsuki was a lot shier. "I really liked your hat."
I managed a smile, a shaky one, but still there. "How about we walk and I explain?"
We walked back towards my house, occasionally stopping to catch my breath. Shit, if this is what happens after I use a Class Card, then I'm going to have to work a lot harder. Especially considering that I used one of the less taxing cards and only for a minute or so.
"So, that person wasn't really you?" Tsuyu asked. The two kids were walking a bit ahead, jumping and splashing into any puddles of water they could find.
I shook my head. "My Quirk doesn't just… make weapons. It lets me install something. A persona. Skills, instincts, reactions. When it's active, I'm still conscious, but it's like… sharing my body."
Tsuyu touched a finger to her chin. "So it's like possession?"
"No," I said quickly. "Not controlling. Influencing. Pushing. He doesn't override me—but he 'wants' things. Fast movement. Precision. Risk. Action."
I hesitated. Should I tell her? It seemed a bit risky. But something in me said to take a leap of faith.
"He was a real person once. He lived somewhere around the 1850's. He was a legend, a very famous person. You might have heard of him. Billy the Kid."
Tsuyu seemed to frown. "Kero. I think I heard of him. Wasn't he some outlaw from the Wild West?"
"He wasn't just some outlaw. He was the outlaw." I defended Billy, not knowing why. "A gunfighter. Criminal. Folk hero, depending on who you ask. He lived fast, broke laws, and died young. The version I get isn't the whole man—but the part of him that 'thrived' on danger."
I glanced down at my hands.
"When I install the card, his instincts bleed into mine. My aim. My reflexes. Even my emotions shift. Everything feels clearer. Sharper. And stopping feels… wrong."
Tsuyu studied me silently.
"That's why you didn't notice the kids," she said.
I winced. "Yeah."
"That's not a normal Quirk."
"No," I agreed. "That's why I was scared when I realized how easy it was to let go."
We walked in silence, just staring at the two children playing and laughing ahead of us, unaware of the heavy topic of our conversation.
Tsuyu broke the tension, voice thoughtful. "If he was an outlaw," she said, "then his instincts would be dangerous. Especially today. Back then, laws were different. Or ignored."
"Very ignored," I muttered.
She nodded once. "The Wild West was full of violence. Lawlessness. People getting hurt."
I managed a weak smile and looked up at her.
"Well," I said, "it was called the 'Wild' West, not the 'safe and ordered' West."
For a second, she just stared at me.
Then she blinked.
"…That's true," she said seriously.
The tension eased, just a little.
Tsuyu looked at me again, more gently this time. "If your Quirk gives you someone else's instincts," she said, "then learning when to stop isn't just important. It's necessary."
I nodded. "That's what scares me."
Finally, we had reached my house. I felt a bit nauseous, not from the side effects, but from having to tell my Mom what happened.
Tsuyu studied me for a few seconds longer, then seemed to decide something. "Can you give me your phone?"
I did not expect that. "Um, sure." I handed her my phone and watched as she typed something in it. She handed it back to me and I saw that she had put down her number in my contacts list.
"You look like you could use a friend who can keep you grounded. Kero." I felt... honestly, I wasn't sure how I felt. Grateful? Touched? Happy?
"I would like that." I did not choke up. "I... haven't got a lot of friends."
"Kero. I noticed." Ouch. Do I really look like such a friendless loser that this girl could pick up on that after one meeting?
Tsuyu's voice snapped me out of my "You should rest. You look sick."
"I plan to."
She hesitated, then raised a hand in a small wave. "Be careful next time, okay? Kero."
"I will," I promised.
And this time, I meant it.
"Bye bye, gun man!" Satsuki waved.
"See you later." Samidare gave a casual wave.
I returned the wave with my own.
They turned and walked away, unhurried, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I waited until she was out of sight before straightening fully and starting toward home.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
Chapter 3
By the time I made it home, my head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and nails.
I kicked off my shoes at the door and barely made it two steps inside before the world tilted. I caught myself on the wall, breathing through the wave of dizziness until it passed.
"Arash?"
My mom's voice came from the kitchen. Calm. Alert.
I straightened quickly. Too quickly.
"I'm home," I called back.
She appeared a moment later, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes swept over me in one practiced glance—and froze.
"You're pale," she said. "And you look like you're barely able to stand."
"I'm fine," I replied automatically.
She didn't argue. That worried me more.
"Sit," she said, pointing at the couch.
"I'm just tired," I replied.
I obeyed.
She knelt in front of me, took my wrist without asking, and pressed her fingers lightly against my pulse. I tensed instinctively before forcing myself to relax. Her fingers were warm, steady. Her Quirk wasn't active—I could tell—but she didn't need it to notice the tremor in my hand.
"…Your pulse is off," she murmured. "Not fast. Just… uneven."
She released my wrist and straightened, studying my face instead. "You didn't get into a fight," she said after a moment. Not a question.
"No."
"You're not injured."
"No."
Another pause. "Let's have lunch first. Then, we'll talk."
I nodded, suddenly aware of a gnawing hunger. The adrenaline had masked it until now.
We sat down at the table and prayed-not as part of any organized religion, just directly to God. I think people like us are called Theists.
Our lunch was simple but comforting: a blend of Japanese and Persian dishes-rice, fish, onions, water. We ate in silence, an episode of Detective Conan playing in the background. We had the whole series, barring one or two episodes. A gift from one of her work friends.
A regular lunch- but we both knew it wasn't ordinary.
After we finished, my mom spoke quietly.
"You know," she began, "people think my job is about ancient ruins and lost civilizations."
I stayed silent.
"But really, it's about patterns. When something doesn't belong, it leaves traces. The body reacts. The mind reacts."
She met my eyes.
"You came home today carrying something you didn't leave with."
My fingers tightened around the glass.
"I'm not saying you did something wrong," she added quickly. "But whatever it was, it took more out of you than you expected."
I hesitated, searching for words that wouldn't turn into lies.
"I… overestimated myself," I said finally.
That earned her a small, sad smile.
"That," she said softly, "runs in the family."
I couldn't tell if she meant herself or Dad.
She stood and rested a hand on my shoulder, firm but reassuring. "I won't pry. Not yet. When you're ready to talk, you will."
Then her grip tightened—just a little.
"But if you start coming home like this regularly," she continued, voice calm but unyielding, "we will have a longer conversation. Understood?"
"…Understood."
She nodded, satisfied, and stepped back. "Go lie down. Read a book-nothing taxing. Just rest."
As she turned back to the kitchen, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I leaned into the couch cushions, exhausted beyond anything exercise had ever caused.
Billy's presence was faint—but there. Like a ghost leaning over my shoulder.
Should've paced yourself, the thought echoed.
"I know," I whispered.
She didn't know. Not about the Class Cards. Not about Billy. Not about the gunfire or the park or the warning.
But she knew enough. And somehow, that scared me more than if she'd known everything.
I laid on my bed, the 'Count of Monte Christo' held in hand, one of my favorite Classics that had survived even the Dark Ages of Quirks. But I couldn't concentrate on the book.
I was too full of energy. My fingers twitched, wanting to do anything. A side-effect of Billy, perhaps?
I glanced at the Class Cards sitting on my table.
They looked harmless.
Too harmless.
Before I knew it, I was there. My fingers hovered over Archer's card, stopping just short of touching it. Even now, some part of me wanted to. Wanted that clarity back. That certainty.
Distance. Angle. Timing.
I pulled my hand back like I'd touched a hot stove. That was the real danger-not the guns, not the attention-but the way it felt right to use them.
I slid the cards back into their holder and locked it away, leaning back in my chair to stare at the ceiling.
I thought of Tsuyu. How easily she'd seen through my adrenaline. How she hadn't yelled or panicked. Just… stopped me.
People like that were dangerous in a different way.
They noticed things.
And sooner or later, more people would notice me too. Someone, somewhere, had already written my name down.
I exhaled slowly.
If I was going to change the future—really change it—then power alone wouldn't be enough. I'd need restraint. Discipline. And the strength to let go when the time came. Most of all, I needed an actual plan. Not just a few goals or hastily cobbled together ideas.
I picked up the Ruler card and stared at it.
"Really hope you're Holmes. I could use a detective."
The card stayed silent. I put it back on the deck and fell back on my bed.
Ping!
The sound of my handy. A notification.
I picked it up and looked at the sender.
It was Tsuyu. "Wanted to check in on you. Kero."
I stared at the screen like it might bite me, my social anxiety and awkwardness kicking in. I wasn't the most social person in either life, not having many friends. I wanted to ignore it, go back to planning... then I realized I was neither in the mood or state to plan anything.
I typed. Deleted. Typed again.
Me: "Hey. I'm home. Feeling better. Thanks for checking in."
Too stiff.
I added another line, then erased it. My thumb hovered.
Me: "Sorry if I worried you."
I sent it before I could overthink it into oblivion.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Tsu: "I'm glad you're okay, kero. You didn't seem fine earlier."
I swallowed and sat up, propping myself against the headboard.
Me: "It was the first time I ever used my Quirk. To be honest, I didn't even know I had one till today."
A pause. Longer this time.
Tsu: "That explains it."
I laughed. The simple reaction dispelled some of my worries.
Me: "Yeah. But I learned my lesson. From now on, I'm going to control myself."
Tsu: "And not shoot guns in a public place right? Kero."
Me: "-_-"
Me: "You're never going to let that go, are you?"
Tsu: "Nope. Kero."
I sighed. I feel your pain, Captain America.
Me: "I didn't know it would be guns! I thought it would be a bow and arrow!"
Tsu: "Those aren't much better. Kero."
I chuckled. There was no winning against this girl.
Me: "Thanks. For everything. Today."
There was a longer pause now. The kind that meant she was choosing her words carefully.
Tsuyu: "You're welcome. Just… be careful. Heroes don't last long if they don't listen to their bodies."
Heroes.
The word lingered.
I glanced sideways at my desk, at the place where the Class Cards were hidden away. At Archer. At Ruler. At all that borrowed certainty.
Could I become a hero? With the power of the cards, I would have a better chance then most. Heroic Spirits are beings beyond human, living legends given shape and form. They could surpass even the mightiest Quirk users.
But power without control is not worth anything. The Cards have opened the door. Now, it's up to me to get through it.
Me: "I'll try."
It was a promise to her as well as myself.
Tsuyu: "Good. See you soon, kero."
Me: "Yeah. See you."
I set the phone down and leaned back, staring at the ceiling again.
"Arash! Dinner's ready!"
Right. Food first, then planning.
But I would need help. I thought about confiding in my mother. A part of me hesitated; did I really want to involve her in this? But I realized that not telling her was dumb. She's my mother. If I can't trust her, who can I trust?
A sense of approval from Billy.
That settled it. I would tell her the truth. Maybe not all of it. But I would be honest.
After dinner, we talked. We sat at the table, a tense silence between us. The Class Cards sat on the table.
I pulled out Archer's card and handed it to her. "Use your Quirk on it."
She studied it carefully, eyes narrowing, before doing as I said. Her eyes began to glow, her Quirk flaring to life and she gasped-then slumped back, like a doll with its strings cut.
"Mom!" I rushed to her side, panic filling me. "Are you ok?! Say something!"
She gasped, sitting up straight. "Mama?! Mama, are you ok?!"
"I'm fine, Arash." She answered slowly, breathing heavily. Relief washed over me.
Her eyes fell on the Class Cards, the Archer card having slipped to the floor. She picked it up, studying it with fascination.
"Those things…" She stared at the Class Cards with a wild look, equal parts fascination and shock. "Those weren't made by humans."
I nodded. "They contain the spirits of ancient heroes."
Her eyes widened. "And that card…"
"That's William Henry Mccarthy Junior-Billy the Kid! The most famous outlaw to ever live!" She seemed excited. "Arash, do you know how much a picture of him is worth?!"
"200 million Yen?" I guessed, having read that on his profile in FGO.
She shook her head. "That was pre-Quirk. Today, a picture of him would be worth five times as much."
I whistled. That was a lot of money.
She sobered up a bit. "Arash… what do you want to do now?"
I fidgeted. "I was thinking… maybe I could use them to be a hero?"
"But didn't you want to be an English Teacher?"
"Well, yeah. I like teaching. But…" I struggled to find the right words. "What if you knew that something horrible was about to happen to a lot of good people, and you had the power to stop it? Wouldn't it be wrong to just do… nothing?"
I spoke out of experience. Every time I saw something wrong in the world, whether it be news about war, regimes killing innocent people, large amounts of nature being destroyed, hell, even seeing an ownerless kitten searching for food in the trash, I felt this twisting sensation in my gut. And every time, a voice in the back of my head yelled at me to do something, to help. Many times I listened to it. But the times I didn't made me feel like the scum of the universe.
I guess MCU's Spider-Man was right. When you see something bad happening and do nothing, it's like the bad things are your fault.
And I was personally sick and tired of letting my insecurities and fears keep me from acting.
I looked at my Mom, determined. "I've seen too much suffering, and I've listened to that voice in my head telling me to act. I can't ignore it anymore. I want to be a hero. I want to help people."
She didn't say anything. Then she smiled. "I understand. All your life, you admired heroes- not just the Pros, but also those from Pre-Quirk era comics and history. You always wished to be like them. I remember when you waved around sticks like swords, commanded battles with your toys, or pretended to be Superman or Spider-Man, climbing on walls and trying to fly."
She stood up, placing her hands on my shoulders. "Findighim, if this is truly what you want, then I will be with you every step of the way."
I felt tears well in my eyes, both at her heartfelt support and her use of my previous Mom's pet name for me.
I felt a lot better knowing that, no matter the world, I would always be my mother's little hazelnut.
I threw my arms around her, pouring all my relief and love into the hug. We stood like that for a full minute, her patting my back while I bawled my eyes out.
"It's ok. Just let it all out," she murmured.
"Thanks, Maman," I whispered.
"Anytime. Now, let's make a plan to make you the best hero the world has ever seen."
I scratched my neck, thinking of a certain green-haired boy. "I don't know if I'll be the greatest."
"Maybe not, but people will remember you," she said softly. "Too many focus on the Pros and forget the heroes of the past-Arthur, Gilgamesh, Cu Chulainn, Heracles…" She looked at Archer. "Or Billy."
I nodded. I experienced it firsthand when Tsuyu had no idea who Billy was.
"But maybe… you can remind them. Make them see that the past heroes who shaped history are just as powerful and important as the heroes of today." She finished, looking at me with pride and love.
I smirked. I would make them remember.
"Good. Now," she pulled out her phone. "We'll need to make a few calls. First, we'll need an appointment with a Quirk Doctor. I know a good one. Then we'll need to create a whole new workout plan for you. Some fighting classes wouldn't hurt. Wing Chun? Krav Maga?"
"How about both?" I said with a grin. I liked Wing Chun ever since I saw Ip Man. And Krav Maga was a good Martial Art.
She smiled. "Alright. Then, a hero school-"
"UA." I interrupted. "Best hero school in the Country."
She raised an eyebrow. "True. But their entrance exam is tough. Written and practical."
"I can study," I said firmly. If Ashido and Kaminari can make it, then so can I.
"Alright. Your transformations are historical figures, right?" She asked.
"Yeah. Anybody whose actions impacted human history."
"Then history will be important. Luckily, you're already strong in it."
"Good thing my Mom has such a useful and interesting job." I joked.
She chuckled. "True that!"
"Next, Quirk Training," she continued. "After getting it registered, we'll need to find a place where you can train it. How many of those Cards do you have?"
"Nine. But can we keep three of them secret?" I asked.
She gave me a sharp look. "Why?"
"Trust me. Those work better when nobody knows about them." I referred to Assassin, Avenger and Ruler.
She seemed skeptical but nodded. "Alright. I'll trust you on that one." She went back to her phone. "Where will you train?"
"A large space- the kind with no people or anything for miles around."
"Why would we need so much space?"
"Because of the Noble Phantasms." At her confused look, I explained. "The legend of a hero made manifest. Like Excalibur for King Arthur. They're really strong, and really destructive."
"How destructive are we talking?" She asked pensively. I gulped.
"Depends on who I get. Some of them are… City-busters." I didn't mince words.
She gasped, blinking. "City-busting?"
"Depends on the hero," I said honestly.
Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she found her voice again. "Ok. Ok. I'm gonna put that in the 'Later' file. Anyway, we've got Exercise, Combat, Studies, History, Quirk Training… only one thing left."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Social interaction. Heroes need to be able to talk in front of masses. And let's face it Arash, your social skills are pretty much at level zero."
"Hey! I'm not that bad!" I protested. She gave me a look. "Ok, maybe they are that bad. So what I do?"
"Simple," She said. "You'll be going to a regular school."
I blinked. "Why?"
"School is the perfect place to develop experience and build social skills. Also, I feel very bad that you never got to experience a normal childhood." She looked down guiltily.
"Hey, Maman, you only did that to protect me. Let's face it, Quirkless people get a shit hand in life." I consoled her quickly. I never liked seeing my Mom so sad, whether in this life or the former.
She gave me a grateful smile. "Thank you, my son. How about we both call it a night?"
"Yeah, I'm getting tired. Good night, Maman."
"Good night, Findig."
I hadn't told her everything. The truth about my situation, my foreknowledge, the coming war, the Class Cards origin. But now, she knew enough. Together we would face whatever would come our way.
'Look out, Villains. History is about to make a huge comeback.'
I closed my eyes, letting exhaustion-and determination-wash over me.