Two Months Later
Kagami's POV
The crisp morning air bites at my lungs as I pivot, narrowly dodging Sebastian's sweeping kick. We're in the estate's training yard, sunlight spilling through the wrought-iron fences, and for the last two months, this space has been my crucible. Sebastian—composed but unrelenting—has become both mentor and opponent. With his quirk, Kinetic Switch, he stores and redirects kinetic energy with terrifying precision. Every blow he delivers is deliberate, calculated, and efficient.
"Focus, Lady Kagami," he calls, his voice as steady as the marble fountain behind us. A subtle shimmer of kinetic energy pulses along his forearms. "Predict where I will strike."
I say nothing. Words waste energy. I read his stance: the subtle lean on his left heel, the twitch of his right knuckle. When he lunges, I duck, momentum guiding me beneath his arm, retaliating with a calculated strike to his ribs.
He blocks effortlessly. "Better. But hesitation will kill you. Commit."
The word slices deeper than his strikes. Hesitation. The tension that always coils in my chest when instinct and reason clash. Fight or flee. Reveal or retreat.
We reset.
He comes faster this time, his kinetic reserves boosting his speed. I barely deflect his jab, the shock vibrating through my forearm. Every inch of this yard is etched into my bones—the sting of sweat, the crunch of gravel, the burn of unspoken expectations.
He catches my ankle mid-feint.
"Predictable. You're still thinking like a civilian. To survive at U.A., you must become someone else. You must become a hero."
Someone else. The phrase echoes through me. It's what I've always done—worn personas like armour, locked away the chaos within. But each version of me is still me. Just... refracted.
An hour passes. By the time the sun crests above the gabled roof, my limbs scream in protest. Sebastian doesn't sweat. He never breaks form. But for once, he offers a rare nod.
"You've improved. But progress is nothing if you won't use your full arsenal."
I tense. "My Egos are unstable. You know that."
He narrows his eyes. "And the world won't wait for stability. There have been three incidents involving villains this week. When danger comes, it won't ask if you feel ready."
He's right. But the idea of unleashing Blaze's inferno or Venom's corrosive edge terrifies me. Not because of their power, but because they might expose what lies beneath my carefully kept calm.
Then, with maddening precision, he adds, "Your reaction time has improved. Down 0.8 seconds since last week."
I blink. "You timed me?"
"Of course." He straightens his cuffs. "Progress requires measurement. That's enough for today. Overtraining will compromise your entrance exam."
I open my mouth to argue when a voice cuts through the yard.
"Finally! I've been waiting to hose down your sweaty uniforms for an hour!"
Madeline leans against the patio door, auburn bun fraying, flour smudged across her cheek. Her quirk, Perfectionist, lets her flawlessly replicate any skill she observes. Her pastries rival top-tier chefs, and her death glare could vaporise a grown man.
Sebastian sighs. "We're done. No need for dramatics."
"Dramatics? You treat this like a military simulation! She's a kid, not an automaton. Let her breathe!"
She eyes me with maternal scrutiny. "You okay, kiddo? He didn't logic you into oblivion?"
"I'm fine," I say. My voice is even, but my arms tremble.
She doesn't miss it. "Let's get some food in you before you keel over."
Later, the kitchen is warm with the scent of burnt caramel and vanilla. Madeline sets down a plate of pancakes, golden and perfect.
"Eat," she commands, sliding into the chair opposite. "And none of that 'I'm not hungry' nonsense. I counted your bites yesterday."
I raise an eyebrow. "Spying now?"
"Monitoring. There's a difference." She leans in. "Look, I get it. Your quirks are a lot. But bottling it up won't help."
"I'm not bottling it. I'm controlling it."
She snorts. "You're choking it. Those Egos? They're not weapons, they're you. The real, raw, terrifying parts you're scared to show."
I'm still. "Sebastian thinks I should use them. In training."
"He's right."
"They're dangerous. Venom could poison him. Phantom makes me... paranoid. What if I hurt someone? What if I like it?"
The silence sharpens.
"Then we'll deal with it. That's what family does. We knock sense into you when you need it. And then we make you breakfast."
She flicks my forehead. "Now eat before I lose my temper."
Dawn bleeds across the sky as I jog along the coast, breath fogging in the cold. Training has transformed my mornings: 5 a.m. runs, protein shakes, cold showers. But today, my steps veer further.
Takoba Beach.
A wasteland of trash and rusted appliances. And in the middle of it—a boy.
Freckled, mud-smeared, green hair sticking to his forehead. He strains to lift a broken microwave.
I approach.
"You'll damage your spine lifting like that."
He startles. "O-oh! Sorry, I didn't see you—"
"Your form is incorrect. Bend your knees."
He adjusts awkwardly. "Right! I've been reading up on techniques, but... well... still learning."
I study him. "Why are you doing this?"
"Training. For U.A."
My pulse skips.
"You're applying?"
He nods, wiping sweat from his brow. "I know I'm not the ideal candidate, but I have to try. I want to help people. I can't just stand by."
I remember the Sludge villain broadcast—the boy who rushed in without thinking.
"You inspired me," I say.
"Me?!"
"You moved without hesitation. Why?"
He lowers his gaze. "I couldn't not move even if I was powerless. I just... couldn't stand still."
His honesty is unguarded. Raw.
"You won't pass on muscle alone," I say. "Learn technique. Judo. Aikido. Something with leverage."
He lights up, scribbling furiously in a weathered notebook. "That makes so much sense! Maybe I can cross-train with—wait, I'm rambling. Sorry!"
"It's fine." I pause. "Kagami Mimoto."
"Izuku Midoriya. You're applying too?! That's awesome! What's your quirk—if you don't mind me asking?"
"Alter Ego. I manifest different versions of myself. They're... volatile."
He beams. "That's incredible! The versatility alone is hero-grade. Rescue missions, infiltration, adaptability—"
"They're not all heroic."
"Quirks don't define morality. You do."
Something loosens in my chest.
"You'll be a great hero," he says. "I can tell."
When I return, Sebastian raises a brow. "You're late."
"I met someone."
"A friend?"
"Maybe."
We train until sunset. My strikes are sharper. I laugh when I dodge his blow. His eyes widen.
"You're smiling. That's new."
"Wouldn't you like to know?" I taunt, dodging again. "You're getting slow, old man."
The joy surges like wildfire. For the first time in years, I feel free.
That night, moonlight spills across my room. I lie awake, Izuku's words echoing:
It's how you use them that matters.
My Egos flicker beneath my closed eyes—Blaze, Venom, Phantom. I don't flinch.
Maybe Madeline was right. Perhaps the parts I hide don't need to be buried. Maybe they can be guided.
I breathe in the night air and whisper to the stars:
"Tomorrow, I fight harder. I let my spark shine. I become the hero I want to be."