The screams sliced through the wind.
Two office workers dangled from the broken edge of a rooftop platform, twenty stories up. The warped steel groaned under their weight, ready to snap.
From the street below, bystanders froze — helpless, horrified.
Then—
A blur.
A flash of red.
Akaito.
He dropped from above like a descending hawk, his crimson scarf slicing through the air behind him like a banner of blood and wind.
In a seamless motion, he reached out — one arm for each victim — and twisted midair. His coatless frame moved with purpose, body angling perfectly with gravity.
He didn't crash. He didn't roll.
He landed on his feet.
The sidewalk cracked like shattered ice. Dust blasted upward — and when it cleared, he was already kneeling, gently lowering both civilians to safety.
Alive. Untouched.
The crowd gasped. Phones raised. Voices murmured.
The crowd hadn't even finished gasping when another roar split the sky.
A fireball screamed down, trailing smoke and heat like a vengeful comet.
Endeavor.
Japan's Number Two Hero slammed into the pavement, the concrete sizzling beneath his feet. Fire burst from his shoulders in wild plumes, heat warping the air around him.
His eyes narrowed, locking onto the figure in red.
"You're not registered. This was my call," Endeavor said, heat rising off him like warning smoke.
Akaito turned to face him, completely composed.
"I saved lives," he said simply. "I didn't realize that required your permission."
The fire around Endeavor's arms surged higher. His pride bristled.
"You've got some damn nerve."
Akaito tilted his head slightly.
"I've seen what fire becomes when pride feeds it."
Endeavor's flames weren't the first he'd faced. Long ago, fire had cost him everything — and he had learned to master what others let consume them.
That hit deep.
Endeavor lunged, flames igniting around his fist, roaring toward Akaito with volcanic force.
But Akaito didn't retreat.
He spun.
A single, fluid motion — one foot anchoring into the cracked concrete as his body turned with coiled precision.
Then— BOOM.
At the peak of his rotation, he extended both arms outward.
The result wasn't a punch — it was control made physical. A wave of force coiled from his core, like a martial echo made manifest. Dust and gravel launched outward. The very wind warped around him — a ripple of unrestrained strength forged through complete control.
Endeavor's flames were snuffed out on impact, extinguished as if crushed beneath invisible stone.
The Pro Hero staggered back, stunned. His arms smoked — not from fire, but from sheer shock compression.
"You—" he gasped. "No one's ever—!"
He roared again and charged, now fully engulfed in flames, trying to overpower what he didn't understand.
But Akaito slipped aside with ease — a ghost in human form.
Two fingers jabbed sharply into the base of Endeavor's neck — a nerve cluster. His left shoulder twitched violently.
Then a palm strike beneath the scapula — precise, surgical, and timed between heartbeats.
CRACK.
Endeavor collapsed to one knee, left arm limp and useless.
"You burn brightly," Akaito said softly. "But brightness without balance only blinds."
Endeavor looked up, dazed, furious, confused. "You... who the hell are you...?"
But Akaito was already gone
No smoke. No echo.
Just wind.
News clips flashed across monitors. The world called him a mystery. The Hero Commission called him a threat. But by dusk, Akaito was gone — and the city exhaled.
⸻
The sun drifted low, casting long golden rays over Hikarigaoka Park. A soft breeze stirred the sakura petals in lazy spirals, and the grass swayed like a calm sea.
Underneath a tall cherry blossom tree, Keiko Ushugimi sat cross-legged, scarf resting gently against his neck, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses.
Still. Quiet. Rooted like stone.
But he wasn't alone.
Footsteps crunched through the gravel — confident, lively, unafraid.
Rumi Usagiyama.
Silver ponytail. Athletic stride. Energy like a firework waiting to go off.
"Back again, mystery monk?" she teased, tugging her hoodie up. "I was starting to think you were a tree spirit."
Keiko's lips curved ever so slightly. He turned his head and gave a small nod.
"Stillness suits the evening," he said. "And you move like someone who can't sit still for long."
"Damn right I can't," Rumi grinned, plopping beside him on the grass. "But I'll admit, this place has a calming vibe. Even I can chill for a minute."
Keiko remained silent, gazing toward the horizon. A child laughed in the distance, chasing a dog under the trees.
"I saw the footage," she said after a beat. "You caught those people mid-fall like it was nothing. Landed like a goddamn superhero."
No response.
"And you torched Endeavor's pride harder than any villain ever has."
Stillness.
She let out a low whistle. "You dropped him without throwing a single real punch.". Left him smoldering with no fire. You got the Commission scrambling."
"I don't enjoy conflict," Keiko said quietly. "But I won't ignore danger either."
Rumi glanced sideways at him. "You're strong. Scary strong. But you don't act like the typical 'alpha hero' types. You don't strut. You don't shout."
"There's no need to shout when you walk with clarity," he said.
She tilted her head. "You always talk like that. Like a monk from a samurai drama."
"I've lived longer than most dramas," Keiko replied.
Rumi blinked. "You're serious again."
He didn't answer. Instead, he watched the sky — his stillness not the absence of motion, but the presence of control.
"You fight like a warrior," Rumi said. "But you live like a ghost. What's your deal, Keiko?"
He paused. Then replied, "I've seen what happens when power runs wild. So I learned to tame mine."
Rumi's crimson eyes searched his face.
"Stillness isn't weakness," she said, finishing his thought. "It's discipline."
Keiko nodded once.
"You've got the kind of weight in your eyes that says you've seen too much. I see it in the mirror sometimes."
Keiko didn't respond, but she could see the storm that lived behind those calm eyes — ancient and burning.
She stood up with a stretch, flexing her arms. "I like this spot. And I like the company."
Keiko rose as well, fluid as wind.
"I'll return," he said.
"Good," she replied, already walking away. "So will I."
She paused, glancing over her shoulder with a half-smile.
"Next time, don't disappear on me. I might just start chasing ghosts."
And then she was gone.
Keiko stood under the cherry blossoms, silent as the wind tugged gently at his scarf.
Above him, the petals fell like slow, drifting memories.
The world kept spinning.
But for one quiet moment...
...it felt balanced.