The forge glowed like a captured sun. Sparks leapt with every strike, filling the workshop with firelight.
A small boy sat in his mother's lap, his wide eyes fixed on the man before the anvil. His father worked in silence, hammering heated steel with steady, powerful blows. With each strike, the dull glow of metal sharpened into something bright, purposeful—becoming a blade worthy of pride.
At last, the steel sang its final note. His father set the finished sword aside. But he didn't stop.
The man raised a calloused hand, veins glowing faintly with light. Power thrummed through the air. And before the boy's eyes, an identical blade shimmered into existence—born not of hammer and fire, but from pure will.
The boy gasped. Two swords now rested before his father, one born of craft, the other of power.
His father's gaze softened as he looked at his son. His voice was low, heavy, filled with meaning.
"This is my quirk—Projection. With it, I can copy any blade I've seen. But remember this, son... to truly recreate a strong weapon, you must know how it's made. The skill of the craftsman lives inside the steel."
He lifted the forged sword, then its mirrored twin, holding them both up to the fire.
"If you ever inherit my quirk... then remember every weapon I've ever forged. Carry them with you."
The boy's small fists clenched, his heart pounding with awe.
"I will, Dad."
A gentle warmth touched his cheek. His mother smiled down at him, brushing his hair aside.
"And if you inherit Mama's quirk instead... Reinforcement... I'll teach you how to strengthen any weapon you hold. Even your own body."
The boy's chest swelled with determination, his young voice trembling with conviction.
"Then no matter what quirk I get... I'll make our blades the strongest in the world."
The flames flared higher, swallowing the workshop in brilliance. For a heartbeat, he thought he could see himself—older, standing at the forge, surrounded by endless swords.
___
Kaito's eyes snapped open. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. For a moment, the glow of the forge, the sparks, and his father's words still clung to him.
He dragged a hand over his face and muttered, voice low.
"...That dream again."
The room around him was quiet, bathed in the pale light of morning. Thirteen years had passed since those nights in the forge. He was no longer that wide-eyed child on his mother's lap.
Now fifteen, his body carried the marks of constant training—lean muscle, hardened frame, the form of someone who had pushed himself day after day to be stronger.
He rose from bed, stretching until his joints cracked, then made his way to the bathroom. A shower washed the last remnants of the dream from his skin, but not from his mind. The words still echoed, just as they always had.
Minutes later, dressed in his school
uniform, he stepped into the hallway. His gaze fell on a framed picture hanging on the wall—his parents, smiling, captured in a moment of warmth he could only reach in dreams now.
He paused before it, the weight in his chest both heavy and familiar. Then, quietly, with a small bow of his head, he spoke.
"I'm going ... Mother. Father."
The silence gave no reply, but to Kaito, it was enough. He turned, determination sharpening in his eyes.
The sun hung low in the sky, painting the city in soft gold. The streets were already alive with noise—cars rumbling past, vendors opening shop, and clusters of students in uniforms making their way toward school.
Kaito walked at a steady pace, bag slung across his shoulder, his mind still half-occupied by the dream. The image of glowing steel, the heat of the forge, and his father's voice clung to him like a shadow that refused to fade.
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. Thirteen years, and it still feels like yesterday.
"Kaito! Good morning!"
The bright voice cut through his thoughts like sunlight breaking through clouds. He stopped mid-step and turned his head, already knowing who it was.
At first glance, the street beside him looked empty except for uniform clothing floating in the air . But then the air shimmered faintly, bending in a way only someone who knew where to look would notice.
Kaito allowed himself a small smile. "Good morning, Tooru."
A light laugh followed, cheerful and unrestrained. "Ha! You didn't even flinch. You're getting way too good at this, y'know? Most people still jump when I sneak up on them."
Kaito adjusted the strap of his bag. "You're not as invisible as you think. Your steps give you away."
"Hmph, I'll have you know I'm a master of stealth!" Tooru declared proudly, walking in step beside him. The only evidence of her presence was the the uniform and shoes . "Just wait, someday I'll be so good even you won't notice me!"
He shook his head, amused despite himself. "Maybe. But your voice is too loud to hide."
Tooru gasped dramatically. "Rude! My voice is cute, thank you very much!"
Kaito glanced sideways, picturing her invisible pout, and almost chuckled. "Cute, huh? If you say so."
She let out an exaggerated groan. "Ughhh, you're impossible. One day I'll make you admit it!"
For a while, they simply walked, weaving through crowds of other students. Some gave Kaito a polite nod in greeting; others glanced around curiously, wondering who he was talking to.
"Hey, Kaito?" Tooru asked suddenly, her tone softer now.
"Hm?"
"You've been training a lot again, haven't you?"
He didn't answer right away. The memory of sore muscles and late nights at the dojo flickered in his mind. Finally, he muttered, "Yeah."
"Thought so." Her voice carried a hint of concern, even if she tried to mask it with casualness. "You're always pushing yourself too hard. Don't think I haven't noticed."
Kaito's eyes stayed forward. "If I don't, I'll fall behind."
"You say that like the rest of us are even close to catching up." Tooru huffed, then softened again. "Still... heroes need strength, sure. But if you don't take care of yourself, you won't make it far. You know that, right?"
Her words lingered. For a moment, Kaito didn't reply. Then, quietly, almost like a promise to himself, he said, "I'll be fine. I can't stop now."
There was a pause, then the invisible girl gave a sigh that was more of a laugh. "Figures. That's just like you. Always stubborn."
The tension in his chest eased just a little. With Tooru walking beside him, even unseen, the morning didn't feel as heavy.
____
The hum of chatter filled the classroom as students filed into their seats, some groaning, some nervously whispering about the mid-year test results. The tension was thick—grades were always a battlefield here.
Kaito sat calmly in his seat near the center, his bag tucked neatly away, posture straight. His face betrayed nothing. Whether he was nervous or confident, no one could tell.
The teacher entered, arms loaded with a stack of graded papers. The room instantly quieted. He adjusted his glasses, his expression stern.
"Alright, everyone. The results are in. I'll announce the rankings now."
Some students shifted in their seats. Others prayed under their breath.
The teacher cleared his throat.
"Number one... as always, Emiya Kaito."
A wave of reactions followed immediately.
"Ugh, again?!" one boy groaned, slumping in his chair.
"Figures. Like anyone was gonna beat him."
"I stayed up three nights studying and I still lost to him by thirty points..."
A girl in the back sighed dramatically. "Does he even sleep? Or is he secretly a robot?"
Kaito gave no response. His eyes stayed on the front, his face calm as the teacher set his paper down neatly on his desk.
From the row beside him, a cheerful voice piped up.
"As expected of our resident genius!" Tooru leaned toward him, her invisible figure shimmering faintly in the sunlight. "Congrats, Mr. Number One~"
Kaito glanced her way, his reply short but genuine. "Thanks."
The teacher continued down the list, his voice steady.
"Number two, Sato Haruto."
A boy two rows ahead pumped his fist. "Yes! Finally closed the gap a little!" Then he glanced over his shoulder at Kaito, determination in his eyes. "Don't think I'll let you stay on top forever, Emiya. Next time, I'm taking first."
Kaito met his gaze, unfazed. "Then work harder."
Some students chuckled at his bluntness, while Haruto muttered, "Tch, cold as ever..." before turning back around.
Teacher then said the rest of the ranks.
"Number fifteen... Hagakure Tooru."
There was a beat of silence before Tooru shot up from her desk with a loud cry. "Fifteenth?! You've gotta be kidding me!"
A ripple of laughter went through the room. One boy teased, "Well, at least you're not last. That's something, right?"
"Don't try to cheer me up, that's worse!" Tooru groaned, flopping dramatically back into her chair. "Ughhh, I studied all week! How am I still stuck in the middle?"
"Because you spent half of study time chatting," another girl teased.
Tooru gasped. "Traitor! Don't expose me like that!"
Kaito set his paper aside and spoke plainly. "You passed. That's what matters."
"Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect," she huffed, puffing out her invisible cheeks. "Some of us need sleep, y'know!"
The classroom chuckled again. Tooru's antics were nothing new, but they always lightened the mood.
Meanwhile, whispers still circled around Kaito.
"He's too good at everything..."
"Top scores, top in physical training too. Guy's unreal."
"Do you think he's already planning to apply to U.A.?"
"Of course. Where else would someone like him go?"
Kaito heard them but didn't react. Their voices were just background noise. His eyes drifted toward the window, to the sky beyond.
The teacher scanned through the last of the names, then clapped the papers together with a sigh. "Well, that's that. Good or bad, your scores are your scores. But in the end, grades are only one part of the picture."
He leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "Most of you are aiming for a Hero University anyway, right? Whether it's U.A., Shiketsu, or one of the others—you'll need more than numbers to make it."
A ripple of excitement ran through the class.
"U.A.!" one boy declared, pumping his fist. "I'm definitely going for U.A. High! It's the number one hero school, after all."
"Pfft, keep dreaming. You'd get eaten alive in the entrance exam."
"Yeah, only monsters get into U.A.!"
Another student grinned confidently. "Then I'll apply to Shiketsu! Their uniforms are cooler anyway."
The class laughed, the energy lively, cheerful, hopeful. Even with nerves buried beneath, most of them looked forward to the idea of becoming heroes.
Tooru raised her hand, her voice bright and clear. "I'm applying too! No way am I settling for a normal school when I can be a hero!"
A few heads turned, some smiling at her enthusiasm.
From infront her, Kaito stayed silent, his arms folded on the desk. His classmates didn't need him to answer—they already assumed.
"Emiya's obviously going to U.A.," someone said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, no contest. He'd be top of the class there too."
"Bet he'll be a pro hero before the rest of us even graduate..."
Kaito didn't rise to their chatter. His gaze was fixed forward, his expression calm. Only Tooru leaned toward him, whispering with a teasing lilt.
"Well, Mr. Number One... guess you'll be standing at the top of U.A. next, huh?"
Kaito shook his head slightly. "It's not about being on top."
"Hm?"
His eyes lowered for a moment, the memory of firelight flickering behind them. "...I just have to keep forging ahead."
Tooru tilted her invisible head, clearly puzzled, but she let it slide with a laugh. "So dramatic. You sound like an old samurai or something."
A few students nearby chuckled, and the teacher rapped the desk to regain order. "Alright, settle down! Ambition is fine, but don't forget—becoming a hero isn't just about strength. It's about resolve. The entrance exams are closer than you think. Start preparing."
The chatter died down, though the excitement lingered. For Kaito, the noise faded into the background. His parents' voices echoed in his heart, louder than anything else.
Remember my weapons.
I'll teach you how to strengthen anything you hold.
He closed his eyes briefly. I won't let those words fade. Never.