[3 Years Later]
—HPSC Musutafu Branch—
Shifting his weight on the simple office chair provided by the HPSC's HR department, Hideo glanced at his computer. Every now and then a faint squeak could be heard from somewhere across the office. Hideo would have considered it to be an amateur or an intern mistakenly changing the chair's balancing settings, but unfortunately, there were no amateurs or interns at the HPSC.
A small knot formed on his forehead as another squeak echoed through the office. This guy can't be serious.
The last time he had confronted his coworker about the squeaky chair, he had been assured that everything would be fixed and orderly by the time he got back to work the next day. Too bad the coworker was an old fart who should have long been retired.
As Hideo began typing away at his computer, gathering information to properly utilize his quirk, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
"Kanzaki-san, I need you to look at these files as soon as possible."
He took the folder without looking. "Of course, Boss," Hideo said. "I'll get it done by the end of the day."
The middle-aged boss nodded his graying head sharply. "Don't let me down." Turning away, he headed back toward his private office.
Despite the amount of work he had to get done, glancing at the folder on his desk ignited a curiosity in Hideo's mind.
I'll just take a quick look, see what I'm working with later.
A dim shimmer crossed his vision as he opened the folder and activated his quirk. Shipment logs and purchase orders unraveled into neat lines and probability curves, anomalies glowing like red threads through the mess of information.
The pages seemed to fly off the page as he worked through them. In his mind, trajectories branched and unfolded, a thousand possible futures laid bare for only his eyes.
The typing of his colleagues drowned out as Hideo scanned deeper. Colors vanished from sight and his vision narrowed, futures spiraling like storm currents as he sought to isolate the right path.
And in an instant, the world came rushing back all too fast.
"…Shit."
The word was swallowed by the hum of the air conditioning. It was one of the hottest days of the year, so the AC would normally be a godsend, but now it felt eerily too cold.
Blinking, Hideo forced himself to tune back into reality. He set the folder down with deliberate care and immediately made his way toward his boss's private office, his heart tapping in a pattern that he'd learned to read as life-threatening urgency.
The door swung fiercely to the side, making way for Hideo to enter with a face hinted with worry.
"Director Takeda," he announced, "we need to talk."
—
Wiping his mouth with a tiny napkin on the side of his desk, Takeda looked at Hideo with a complicated look.
"So, you mean to tell me," he began, "that in the two hours since I gave you the report, you were able to figure out that Blaze Front is going to bomb the summer festival?!"
A slight chill ran up Hideo's spine. "That is exactly what I'm saying, Director."
"And you're 100% sure, Kanzaki-san?" The Director of the Musutafu branch had an inquisitive look on his face. While he knew that Hideo had a quirk well-suited for his job, it was still hard to trust his words completely after just a couple of hours.
"…" Hideo paused. As good as his quirk was, it wouldn't matter if the information he had was faulty or unfinished. It was easy to overlook something without the full picture.
The Director's jaw tightened. "Listen, Kanzaki. If we overreact to every projection, we lose credibility with the heroes we deploy and the public. If this turns out to be alarmism, it will be on your record."
Hideo's fingers tapped the side of his seat lightly, his voice calm but edged with urgency. "Normally I would agree with you, Director. But the data in the folder you gave me combined with the articles on Blaze Front you had me review last week all point to the same conclusion.
The reports detail an unusual increase in common materials going missing over the last three months. At first, they seem to have no significance, just another day where a small shipment goes missing. But by cross-referencing that with the chatter I pulled from the local news outlets and other sources, even my son could see the underlying pattern."
Letting out a small grunt, the Director looked straight into his employee's eyes. If Hideo was right, then next week could be extremely disastrous. Especially during a time when people were supposed to be celebrating heroes, not getting attacked by villains. Our image would be ruined.
"I understand your concern, Kanzaki-san." The Director relented. "We already have multiple heroes and security showing up for the festival, but I'll try to take your concerns into consideration."
"Thank you very much, Director," Hideo deeply bowed.
"If you're right, we'll both we have a lot more to worry about than thanks."
❖ ❖ ❖
—Train—
The noon train rattled through Musutafu, its windows flickering with neon reflections as the city sped past. Most of the passengers kept to themselves, faces bathed in the glow of their phones.
Near the corner seats, a young woman leaned against the glass, scrolling furiously.
"Did you see this, Dad?" she asked, tilting her phone toward the older man beside her. "Have you heard of Blaze Front?"
Her father squinted over his glasses. "Blaze what?"
"They're this activist group. Always shouting about how the government needs to change, how they got too much power and how heroes are just tools of the HPSC. You know, that kind of nonsense."
"Hmph." The old man turned his gaze back out the window. "Every generation's got their loudmouths. So what if they got a fancy name and a few members, it never amounts to much."
"Yeah, but look." She jabbed her thumb against the screen, pulling up an article from her app. A stern headline glared back: 'Blaze Front Leader Takuma Honoji' Apprenhended by HPSC.' They lost their leader last month. The Comission cracked down on them hard.
Her father grunted. "Good. Less noise in the streets."
The woman snorted, locking her phone and tucking it back into her pocket. "Guess that's it for them then. Can't run a revolution if your boss is in chains."
"Revolution," her father scoffed, shaking his head. "They're kids playing dress-up, that's all it ever is. They scream about tearing things down, but as soon as things get tough, they fold like cheap umbrellas."
She laughed, shifting in her seat as the train cruised through the city. "Exactly, half of them probably never even showed up to one of those rallies, just retweeting and prentending they care."
"Mm." He adjusted his cap. "The world doesn't change because of noise. Always been that way. Folks get tired eventually."
The train screeched around a bend, and the woman leaned back with a sigh. "Guess it's back to the same old routine, then. No more fuel for the fire."
The old man gave a short chuckle, eyes on the blur of city outside. "And no loss, as far as I can tell."
—*** Academy—
"Good morning, everyone!" Evelyn sang out in English, clapping her hands enthusiastically as she faced the small classroom. A chorus of 'Good morning, Sensei!' echoed back, some louder and more confident than others.
On the screen behind her, she carefully wrote: 'My name is…' and turned back to the class. "Alright, who wants to try?"
A few hands shot up excitedly. Looking around, she picked one of the eager boys at the front. "Okay, Sato-kun, give it your best."
The young boy with rocky skin stood up, cheeks dyed pink with effort. "My name is… Minato!" he declared in halting English. His friends stifled giggles at the proud look on his face.
Evelyn clapped anyway, bright and encouraging. "Perfect! Very good, Sato-kun."
Her gaze flickered to the edge of the class. Renji sat quietly at his desk, small shoulders tucked in, his eyes focused on a classic English book she had bought him a few days ago. Evelyn's heart ached at the sight. While she was proud of him for pursuing higher material, it did little to hide the lack of friends and joyfulness she usually saw in the other children.
For now, she'd let Renji keep his silence. There would be time later to remind him to speak up.
—
"Okay class, it's time for recess!" Evelyn exclaimed. "Get in line outside, I'll be right out."
The kids funneled out of the classroom like a horde, a few kids tripping over each other in the process but ultimately exercising their line-making skills and lining up in a straight single-file line.
As Evelyn began to make her way to the doorway, a head peeked in.
"I can handle it this time, Kanzaki-sensei," the other teacher explained. "I know how hard you've been working, so give yourself a break every now and again."
"Are you sure, Yamamoto-sensei?" Evelyn replied, still trying to gather her things to head out with the children. "It's really not a big deal."
"Don't worry about it." The teacher insisted. "Relax, you're always running around. If I don't give you a break, you'll collapse right before the semester ends"
Without waiting for a response, the other teacher quickly went back to the corridor and closed the door behind him.
Evelyn looked blankly at the closed classroom door and sighed. I guess I could use a break.
Suddenly, she heard a flick of a page. Renji sat at his desk, book in hand, while the rest of the class thundered outside. The sight tugged at her, this lonely routine had become all too familiar.
Making her way over to Renji's desk, Evelyn kneeled, letting her blonde hair sway in the wind coming through the open window.
"Sweetie, why aren't you outside playing with the other kids?" She watched as Renji put away the book he had been reading.
"Mom, you know why." Renji began, swaying his feet in his chair as he looked straight into Evelyn's eyes. "They don't like me. You've heard what they've said before."
Renji looked off to the side, whispering. "Who even says I want to be friends with those stupid guys."
"Renji!" Evelyn yelled. "You can't just say those types of things about your classmates."
Snapping back to look at his mom, Renji's eyes showed a hint of defiance. "They say mean things to me too, Mom.
"They don't care if I'm at the top of the class… Dad said I might be transferring to some fancy academy soon, but it doesn't matter to them. They only care about one thing, and you know it."
Renji's voice hardened. "They only care about quirks and that I don't have one."
Evelyn stopped at that. Hearing her sweet baby boy curse the world because of something he couldn't control was a horrible feeling.
She reached for him, but Renji stiffened. She held him anyway, steady and patient. After a moment, his shoulders sagged, and he pressed his face against her side. "You don't need to have a quirk to be the best, sweetie. All that matters is that you keep moving forward, doing what you do best to get what you want."
It was a strange sight to see a boy so young harboring such mature feelings, but it was both a blessing and a curse. Renji was gifted, maybe not with quirks but with intellect. Evelyn knew that he would quickly understand the way this shitty world worked; she just wished he hadn't had to face it so soon.
Letting out a quiet sniffle, Renji complained, "People look at me like I did something wrong just cause I don't have a quirk. It's not fair."
"I know, Honey," Evelyn comforted him, patting his back. "I know."