The late afternoon sun bathed Hikarigaoka Park in a golden glow. Cherry blossoms drifted on the breeze, their scent mingling with the laughter of children and the cooing of pigeons. For a moment, the world stood still — suspended in peace.
Beneath a blooming cherry blossom tree, a man sat cross-legged, perfectly still. He wore a black button-up and gray slacks — plain, forgettable. neck, and dark sunglasses shielded the flicker of flame-colored eyes beneath. At first glance, he was just another weary salaryman seeking peace after a long day.
But to those who could sense more, a subtle pulse radiated from him — a quiet pressure, like the stillness before a storm.
Keiko Ushugimi — known to only a few as Akaito — was meditating.
He tuned into the rhythm of the city, the steady heartbeat of life itself. This was a practice older than the glass towers scraping the sky, older than the paved roads beneath the feet of passersby. In moments like these, there was no past, no future. There was only breath. Only now.
Footsteps — light, deliberate — approached. A presence: strong, balanced.
Without opening his eyes, Keiko sensed the newcomer...
Without opening his eyes, Keiko sensed the newcomer. The woman stretched her arms overhead with a practiced ease, then flopped onto a nearby bench with a long sigh. Her sleeveless hoodie revealed toned arms honed by relentless training, and her silver-white ponytail swayed gently with her movements.
Rumi Usagiyama.
Clad in joggers and a tank top emblazoned with the words "NO QUIT," one wireless earbud still in place, she scanned the park casually before her crimson gaze landed briefly on Keiko.
Neither spoke at first.
Finally, Keiko broke the silence, his voice calm and clear.
"You move like you've been in more fights than most."
Rumi turned toward him, one brow raised in mild surprise. "Is that so? And you sit like a monk. Most people don't notice that."
"I'm not most people."
She grinned, pulling out her earbud. "Clearly. You're either a fighter... or a very disciplined office worker."
Keiko allowed himself a faint chuckle. "Perhaps a bit of both."
"You've got the vibe," she said, leaning forward with interest. "No one wears sunglasses under cherry blossoms unless they're hiding something... or nursing a hangover."
"Neither applies," he replied smoothly. "Stillness suits me."
"Stillness," she repeated, tilting her head thoughtfully. "You meditate often, mystery man?"
He opened one eye just slightly. A leaf drifted past.
"Every day. It keeps the past from reaching too far forward."
Her smile softened, but a shadow flickered in her eyes. "You talk like someone who's seen things."
"I have," Keiko said quietly.
"So have you."
Her crimson eyes narrowed briefly. "You know who I am?"
"I do."
Rumi relaxed, a genuine smile blooming. "Most people recognize me by the ears. You didn't need them."
"I didn't," Keiko said. "Your stance, your gait — you carry yourself like someone who's survived battles cameras don't film."
She studied him for a moment. Then, with an approving nod, she smiled wider. "You're interesting. Got a name?"
"Keiko Ushugimi."
She extended her hand. "Rumi. Though I guess you already knew that."
They shook — his grip firm, respectful.
"Most people ask about my ranking or want selfies. You didn't."
"I don't judge a warrior by headlines."
"Smart," she said, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, Keiko... what do you do?"
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"I help people."
"Hmm." She didn't press further. "Well, maybe next time you're helping someone, I'll be around to see it."
Keiko nodded slightly.
Rumi stood, stretching with a satisfying pop of her joints. "I come here most evenings. Helps me clear my head. Guess I'll be seeing you again?"
Keiko didn't answer. But the faintest lift of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah. Thought so," she said, jogging down the path, her ponytail swaying behind her.
Keiko remained beneath the cherry blossoms, unmoving.
Yet the air felt warmer somehow.
A Week Later
Inside the Midoriya apartment, Izuku burst into his room, heart pounding.
But he froze.
Someone was already there.
A man seated near the window, calm and composed, dressed in dark civilian clothes. Long hair tied back. Sunglasses resting in his lap.
Akaito.
"Wha—Akaito-san? How did you—when did you—?" Izuku stammered.
The man didn't move. Didn't speak.
"I heard your heart from the hallway. It beat like a soldier bracing for war."
Izuku swallowed hard, adrenaline surging. He fumbled with the envelope in his hand and pulled out the small disc inside.
His fingers trembled as he pressed the button.
A warm, golden light filled the room, and a larger-than-life figure flickered to life above the disc.
All Might.
"I am here... to tell you... that you can become a hero!"
Izuku's breath caught.
"Young man, you passed the written exam, of course. But that wasn't what truly impressed us. You rushed into danger to save someone else, even when you had no points to gain. That instinct... that is the essence of a hero."
Izuku sank to his knees, tears streaming freely. His dream — the one he'd clung to through every hardship — had finally come true.
Behind him, Keiko rose slowly, hands slipping into his coat pockets.
"You did well," he said quietly. "When you gained power, your first thought was to protect. That instinct is rare. Hold onto it."
Izuku turned, voice thick with emotion.
"T-Thank you, Akaito-san. That... that means so much..."
Keiko nodded faintly — almost, but not quite, a smile.
Then, without another word, he stepped past Izuku and into the hallway.
Just then, Inko opened the door, teary-eyed and trembling with joy.
"Izuku? Did it say—?"
But the room was empty — save for her son, clutching the disc to his chest.
"He was just here," Izuku whispered.
Above the City
High above the apartment complex, Keiko stood on the ledge of a tall building beneath the moon's pale light.
U.A. High shimmered in the distance — a modern temple built to shape tomorrow's heroes.
He stared at it, expression unreadable.
"In my time," he muttered, "they were trained before they could speak. No schools. No letters. Only fire... and survival."
The wind tugged at his coat.
"But now? Now they raise them with books and guidance. Structure. Hope."
He paused.
"Perhaps... this is the better way."
He looked down at his hand, flexing it slowly.
"But the old ways are not forgotten. I will make sure of that."