Isaiah stood in the doorway, one foot poised to cross the threshold. The All Might shrine loomed behind him, countless painted smiles beaming at his back. The scent of katsudon wafted up from the kitchen—homemade comfort food from a woman who thought she was cooking for her son.
His foot crossed the threshold, and the world froze.
A massive quest window materialized before him, blocking his path. This wasn't a simple notification—it filled his entire vision, silver text burning against a void-black background:
[New Main Quest Issued: Securing the Homefront]
The ghost you are wearing had a mother. Her love was a pillar for a dream you've now discarded. Left unchecked, that love will become a cage of concern, questions, and interference. She is your landlady, your chef, and your primary alibi. You cannot afford for her to be a variable. Repurpose her loyalty. Re-forge her support. This is not about truth; it's about control.
[Objectives]
Symbolic Execution: The previous occupant's obsession is a liability. You must convince Inko to help you remove at least 75% of the All Might merchandise from your room. Erase the old god to make way for the new one.
Craft the New Gospel: Construct a believable, emotionally resonant lie. Frame your change of heart as a result of the Slime Villain incident—a traumatic awakening that showed you the naivete of reckless heroism and the importance of a more "practical" and "secure" path to power.
Obtain the Mandate: Secure her verbal and financial blessing for this new, vaguely defined ambition. Her tears of worry must be replaced with tears of pride for her "matured" son.
[Rewards for Success]
Asset Secured: [Unquestioning Support]. Inko will no longer question your late-night "studies" or sudden influxes of cash, believing it's part of your new "pragmatic" self-improvement plan.
System Feature Unlocked: [Social Engineering]. Your Charm and Intimidation sub-stats are now active.
[Penalty for Failure]
Debuff Inflicted: [Constant Surveillance]. Inko will begin monitoring your activities, questioning your comings and goings, and may even contact the school out of concern.
Title Inflicted: [Mama's Little Worry].
Sanctuary Lost: Your home is no longer a safe zone. You will suffer a constant "Mental Stress" debuff while inside, slowing all passive regeneration.
A slow smile spread across Isaiah's face. He read the objectives again, savoring each cold, calculated word.
"Jesus, Arcan," he murmured. "Erase the old god to make way for the new one? You're more of a scumbag than I am. I'm starting to like you."
『I write what the System dictates,』 Arcan replied. 『But I won't pretend I don't appreciate the artistry. A mother's love can be the strongest shield or the heaviest chain. Your choice which you want.』
"Izuku! The food's getting cold!" Inko called from downstairs.
Isaiah straightened his shoulders and put on a neutral expression. "Coming, Mom!"
He descended the stairs, each step bringing him closer to his first real battle in this world. No quirks. No superpowers. Just words and manipulation.
His favorite kind of fight.
===
The dining table was small and worn but meticulously clean. Steam rose from two bowls of homemade katsudon—golden, crispy cutlets atop rice, topped with egg.
Inko sat across from him, her fingers nervously tapping the edge of the table.
"I made your favorite," she said, smiling too brightly. "I thought it might help with your... recovery."
Isaiah nodded and picked up his chopsticks. "Thank you."
He ate in silence, watching her from beneath his lashes. Every few seconds, Inko would open her mouth as if to speak, then close it again. Her eyes darted to his face and away.
"So... school is Monday." Her voice trembled slightly. "Are you... are you excited to see your friends?"
She was throwing him a lifeline, begging him to be the boy she remembered.
Isaiah set down his chopsticks.
"No," he said quietly. "I'm not."
"What do you mean, sweetie?"
Isaiah leaned forward, hands flat on the table.
"Mom," he began, his voice soft but intense. "When I was inside that thing, when I couldn't breathe..." He paused, letting her imagine the horror. "I wasn't thinking about All Might's smile. I was thinking about how I was going to die. How I was weak, helpless... and how no hero was coming to save me or Bakugo."
Inko's face crumpled. She reached across the table, but stopped short of touching him.
"But All Might did come," she whispered.
"Too late." Isaiah shook his head. "He showed up after I'd already accepted death. Do you know what that feels like? To accept that you're going to die because you're too weak to save yourself?"
Tears welled in Inko's eyes.
"All Might is incredible," Isaiah continued, his voice taking on a reflective quality. "He's a symbol. But that's all he is—a symbol. He can't be everywhere. Waiting for a symbol to save you is a prayer." He looked directly into her eyes. "And I'm done praying."
A tear slipped down Inko's cheek. "Oh, Izuku..."
"The sludge villain taught me something important." Isaiah clenched his fist on the table. "The world doesn't care about dreams. It respects power. Not the flashy power of heroes on TV, but real, personal strength. The kind that means you never have to be a victim again." He softened his voice. "I don't want to be a hero who saves everyone. I want to be strong enough that I never have to be saved."
Inko stared at him, lips parted in shock. This stranger using her son's voice sounded so... mature. So resolved.
Isaiah pressed his advantage, gesturing vaguely toward his bedroom. "And all that stuff in my room... the posters, the figures... it feels like it belongs to a different person now. A child who was waiting for a hero." He lowered his eyes. "It just... reminds me of being weak. I can't look at it anymore."
The masterstroke. He had linked the merchandise—her financial and emotional investment—to his trauma. To keep it would be to hurt him.
Inko's face transformed. Not with sorrow for the lost dream, but with a strange, tearful pride.
"Oh, Izuku," she cried, reaching across the table to grip his hand. "You're right. Of course you're right. We'll get rid of it. We'll get rid of all of it."
Isaiah squeezed her hand, allowing a small, grateful smile. "Thank you for understanding."
"But what will you do now?" she asked, wiping her tears. "If not becoming a hero?"
"I still want to be strong," Isaiah said carefully. "But on my own terms. I need to build myself from the ground up. Get faster, smarter... less dependent on others."
Inko nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes of course. Whatever you need."
"I know it seems sudden," Isaiah said, injecting a note of apology. "But nearly dying changes a person. I feel like... like I've woken up."
"It's okay," Inko whispered. "It's okay to change, to grow." A watery smile. "I'm just glad you're here to do it."
Isaiah nodded solemnly, watching her defenses crumble. The hook was set. Now to reel her in.
===
After dinner, they stood in his bedroom, surveying the shrine to All Might. Posters covered nearly every inch of wall space. Limited-edition action figures stood in neat rows on shelves. Notebooks filled with hero analysis were stacked on the desk.
"We should catalog everything," Isaiah said, his tone business-like. "Some of these are collector's items. We could sell them."
Inko looked momentarily taken aback by his pragmatism, but nodded. "You're right. That makes sense."
They began the process methodically. Isaiah pointed out the rare figures, the limited-edition posters. He had her look up prices on her phone. The number grew, item by item. For a middle-class household, it was a substantial sum.
"I had no idea," Inko murmured, staring at her phone. "All these years of birthday presents and rewards for good grades..."
"It adds up," Isaiah agreed. He picked up a golden-age All Might figure still in its original packaging. "This one alone is worth three hundred thousand yen."
Inko shook her head in amazement.
Isaiah set down the figure and turned to face her. Time for the final push.
"This money," he said, gesturing at the pile of plastic and paper idols, "we shouldn't just save it. This was for my old dream. Let's use it for the new one."
Inko tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"Let's invest it. In me." Isaiah straightened his shoulders. "I need to get stronger, Mom. I mean physically stronger. I need a trainer. A professional."
Inko didn't hesitate. "Of course," she said immediately. "Of course we will." She reached out and touched his cheek. "Whatever you need to feel safe again."
As she began carefully boxing up the first figurine, a series of notifications flooded Isaiah's vision:
[Objective: Symbolic Execution - COMPLETE]
[Objective: Craft the New Gospel - COMPLETE]
[Objective: Obtain the Mandate - COMPLETE]
[MAIN QUEST: SECURING THE HOMEFRONT - COMPLETE!]
[Rewards Distributed!]
[Asset Secured: [Unquestioning Support]]
[System Feature Unlocked: [Social Engineering]]
『Impressive work,』 Arcan commented. 『You turned her completely inside out in under an hour.』
It was easy, Isaiah thought back. She wanted to be convinced. People always do when you tell them what they need to hear.
『And what did she need to hear?』
That her son grew up. That the tragedy had meaning. That good came from bad. Nobody wants to believe their child nearly died for nothing.
Isaiah reached down and helped Inko pack away the old faith. The plastic idols with their painted smiles couldn't help him now. He needed real power in this world of the superhuman.
And manipulation, he was discovering, was its own kind of superpower.