Chapter 38: The Frozen Tear.
Aokiji was not flying. He was falling with style, propelled by a sheer, desperate release of kinetic energy. He was a streak of azure light cutting through the gray, smoke-choked sky of Hokkaido.
The tears that had welled up in his eyes during his scream never had the chance to roll down his cheeks. In the high-altitude slipstream, exposed to his own sub-zero aura, the droplets froze instantly. They turned into tiny, jagged diamonds of ice, detaching from his lashes and shattering into nothingness against the wind.
He didn't stick the landing.
He crashed into a snowbank fifty meters from the estate, tumbling violently, his limbs flailing like a ragdoll. He rolled, snow packing into his clothes, until he hit a patch of ice and skidded to a halt on his stomach.
He scrambled up. His movements were clumsy, frantic, devoid of his usual grace. He lifted his head.
The heat hit him first.
It wasn't the comforting warmth of a hearth or the summer sun. It was a violent, suffocating wave of thermal energy that smelled of charred pine, melted plastic, and ruin.
The ancestral home—the massive timber structure that had weathered a century of storms—was a roaring inferno. The orange flames licked the sky, casting an orange glow on the surrounding snow.
Aokiji stood paralyzed. His legs refused to move. His black eyes trembled, reflecting the dancing destruction. Underneath his skin, his tear ducts were frozen shut; he couldn't cry anymore.
He watched a massive wooden beam from the second floor—perhaps the beam of his bedroom—collapse inward with a shower of sparks.
Crack. BOOM.
The sound was like a physical blow.
Grandma... Grandpa... Mom... Dad...
Sayuri.
The images of their faces flashed before him, superimposed over the fire.
"NO!"
Aokiji screamed, and with it, he unleashed the cold. He didn't aim. He didn't shape it. He simply expelled the concept of winter from his very soul.
"ICE AGE."
It wasn't a wave; it was an erasure of heat.
The white mist exploded from him, rushing toward the house like a tidal wave. It slammed into the fire. There was no hiss of steam, no struggle. The fire simply died. The orange flames turned instantly into jagged, red sculptures of frozen energy before shattering into dust.
The frost climbed the burning timber, sealing the charred wood in thick, translucent coffins of ice. In three seconds, the roaring inferno was silenced. The house was now a ruin of black charcoal encased in a tomb of blue ice.
Silence returned to the mountain.
Aokiji stood alone in the snow, his chest heaving, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He stared at the frozen wreckage.
Where do I start? his mind raced, bordering on hysteria. Who could survive that? An explosion... then the fire... then my ice...
He took a step, but his knees buckled. Despair, heavy and cold, began to crush his heart.
"Big Brother!"
The voice was small. Trembling. But it was there.
Aokiji's head snapped to the side. His pupils dilated.
Emerging from the tree line, near the detached garage that had miraculously survived the blast, was a figure.
She was bundled in layers of clothes that made her look like a marshmallow. Her hat was askew, her face was smeared with soot, but she was moving.
"Sayuri..." Aokiji breathed.
She wasn't walking. She was running. Stumbling through the deep snow, flailing her arms, running toward him with everything she had.
Behind her, emerging slowly from the shadows of the trees, walked the rest of them. His father. His mother. His grandparents. They were walking upright, brushing ash off their clothes, looking annoyed but unharmed.
But Sayuri was running.
"SAYURI!"
Aokiji dropped to his knees, opening his arms just as she collided with him.
She hit him with enough force to knock him onto his back in the snow. She buried her face in his chest, her small hands gripping his torn trench coat so hard her knuckles turned white.
"I was so scared!" she wailed, her voice muffled by his clothes. "It was so loud! The fire... I thought... I thought..."
She was crying hysterically. Sobs racked her small body. She wasn't injured—not a scratch on her—but the terror had shaken her to her core.
Aokiji lay there in the snow, staring up at the gray sky. He raised a trembling hand and placed it on the back of her head, stroking her hair.
"You're okay," he whispered, his voice breaking. "You're okay."
The soul that had nearly left his body slammed back into place. The relief was so intense it felt like physical pain.
Shadows fell over them.
Aokiji looked up. His father, Soichiro, stood over them. He was checking his smartphone, his face pale but composed.
"This is unacceptable," Soichiro muttered. He turned the phone screen toward Aokiji.
"I received this message," Soichiro said. "Exactly three minutes before the detonation."
Aokiji sat up, keeping one arm wrapped protectively around the sobbing Sayuri. He looked at the screen.
Sender: Unknown
Message: If you wish to preserve the asset value of your lives, evacuate the main structure immediately. Move at least thirty meters to the perimeter. Failure to comply will result in total carbonization in 180 seconds.
Aokiji stared at the timestamp.
10:42 AM.
"At 10:42..." Aokiji murmured, his mind racing. Pyre was fighting me. He was busy dodging my attacks. He couldn't have sent this.
"I think there's two people who knows about this, the first is someone who knew we were in danger," Soichiro stated, putting the phone away. "The second is the one who coordinated this."
"The structural damage is total," Grandfather Genjiro said, looking at the ice-encased ruins of his ancestral home. "The insurance should cover eighty percent, but the historical value is lost. This is a significant liquidation of assets."
"We will have to stay at a hotel in Sapporo," Aokiji's mother added, tapping her chin. "I need to reschedule my meetings. This disruption is highly inefficient."
They discussed the house like it was a failed stock trade. They talked about logistics, money, and schedules.
Aokiji stared at them. Then he looked at Grandma Haru. She wasn't talking. She was looking at her husband and son with a strange, sad expression.
Suddenly, Soichiro stopped talking.
He flinched. His hand went to his chest, clutching the expensive fabric of his suit over his heart. He grimaced, his breath hitching.
"Dear?" his wife asked, looking up from her tablet. "What is it? Are you experiencing a cardiac event?"
Soichiro didn't answer immediately. He stared at Aokiji and Sayuri sitting in the snow—the brother holding the sister, the raw emotion radiating from them. He looked at the ruin of the house where his children could have died.
For a second, his eyes—usually dead black voids—flickered calmly. A ripple of something unrecognizable passed through his features.
"I don't know," Soichiro whispered. He rubbed his chest, looking confused. "It feels... heavy. Vibrating. Perhaps I have a Vitamin D deficiency. Or low blood sugar. We haven't had lunch."
Grandma Haru's eyes widened.
He feels a vibration in his heart? she thought, stunned. No way... did the ice around his heart crack? Just a little? Because they survived?
It was a fleeting moment. Soichiro straightened his tie, his face returning to its mask of cold indifference. He didn't understand what he had felt—fear, relief, love—and he dismissed it as a physiological glitch.
Twenty minutes later, the silence of the mountain was broken by the wail of sirens.
Fire trucks struggled up the snowy road, followed by police cruisers and a sleek black car belonging to a local Hero Agency. Neighbors from the village had gathered at the perimeter, whispering and pointing at the ice-covered ruins.
The scene was chaotic. Police were taking statements. The Pro Hero was examining the blast radius.
Aokiji stood apart from the crowd. He needed air. He needed to think. But...
Bzzt. Bzzt.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out. Unknown Number.
Aokiji stared at the screen. His thumb hovered over the answer button.
He slid the icon. He put the phone to his ear while moving to a narrow alley between two standing warehouses, leaning against the wood, his boots deep in the snow.
"Hello?"
"Did you enjoy the gift I left you?"
The voice was deep. Smooth. Cultured. It sounded like a man used to giving orders that shaped nations. It wasn't Pyre.
Aokiji's eyes narrowed. He looked left and right, checking the shadows, checking the rooftops. "Are you... All For One?"
"Correct answer," the voice purred.
"You..." Aokiji's grip on the phone tightened until the plastic creaked. "You dragged my family into this. I hope you're ready for the consequences."
"Consequences?" The voice chuckled darkly. "Tell me, young Kuzan... to whom do you owe the fact that your family is currently breathing?"
Aokiji froze. "What?"
"I am the one who sent the message to your father," All For One said casually.
"You sent the assassin," Aokiji hissed. "You sent Pyre."
"Indeed. I sent the threat, and I sent the salvation," All For One replied. "It seems contradictory to a simple mind, doesn't it? But I wanted you to understand something fundamental."
"Understand what?"
"That resistance is futile," the voice hardened. "I wanted you to know that you and your family are within my range. Pyre spent the entire night planting those explosives under your floorboards while you slept peacefully in your bed. And the world calls you a 'Hero' prodigy? Hah. The new generation is hopeless."
Aokiji felt a wave of nausea. While I was sleeping... Pyre was already inside my family house?
"What do you want, bastard?" Aokiji whispered.
"Your Quirk," All For One said simply. "My associates will attend a school event you will be participating in soon. When they arrive, you will accompany them quietly. My power allows me to extract Quirks without pain. I will take your ability. In exchange... I will never touch your family, your friends, or your classmates.."
"And if I refuse?" Aokiji asked, his voice trembling with rage.
"Then turn around," All For One said cold. "Look at the ruins of your home. Picture your sister inside it. And think carefully about your answer."
Click.
The line went dead.
Aokiji slowly lowered the phone. He turned his head.
Through the gap in the buildings, he saw the scene. The flashing red and blue lights of the police cars reflecting off the ice. The reporters shoving microphones at his father. The firefighters spraying foam on the charred wood.
And Sayuri, standing by the car, looking small and fragile.
The chaos was overwhelming.
For the first time in his life, Aokiji Kuzan felt truly powerless. He wasn't dealing with a villain he could freeze. He wasn't dealing with a rival he could outsmart.
He was dealing with a monster who held the lives of everyone he loved in the palm of his hand.
The weight of my quirk... versus the weight of their souls, Aokiji thought, his dark eyes seems to be already took the decision.. It's heavier than I can bear.
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