The stars were bright, scattered across the quiet street like fragments of silver.
Watching Aoba Kokoro stop in front of an ordinary house, Yaoyorozu Chihiro slid along the wall like a loach, silently reaching the side of the building.
"Kokoro… it really is you! My dear daughter, you're finally back! Where have you been? Why are your clothes torn like this?"
"Mom, I'm fine," Aoba Kokoro replied softly. "I got lost in the mountains, and I sprained my leg."
Standing on the windowsill, Chihiro watched the two figures embrace. A strange expression crossed his face. Especially when he looked at Aoba Kokoro's calm, almost indistinguishable expression—if he hadn't known what she had gone through just hours earlier, he might have believed her words completely.
Time passed slowly.
For several hours, Chihiro hung upside down in the shadows of the ceiling like a bat, silently observing. Aoba Kokoro didn't reveal anything—not a single slip of the tongue. Only then did Chihiro finally relax, loosening his grip with his right hand. Otherwise, tonight might have truly ended in blood.
He really had wanted to let her return safely.
In this era of Heroes, disappearing was far more conspicuous than dying quietly. He had no desire to be watched by a swarm of heroes day and night. And beyond that—she had been his first woman. No matter how cold he tried to be, he couldn't bring himself to cross that final line. This outcome was the best possible one.
As time dragged on, fatigue crept into Chihiro's body. Hanging for so long placed a heavy burden on his muscles.
A faint sound broke the silence.
Wearing soft pink bear-patterned pajamas, her green hair still damp and clinging to her back, Aoba Kokoro stepped stiffly into her bedroom. She didn't lie down immediately. Instead, she hugged her knees and sat there, sobbing silently. Tears flowed freely, clear and soundless, carving lines down her exhausted face. She looked fragile—so pitiful it was almost unbearable to watch.
At that moment, Chihiro finally felt completely at ease.
All the suppressed helplessness and grievance she carried were written plainly across her expression. A girl like this would never make things public. Especially after his observations, Chihiro had discovered that Aoba Kokoro came from a single-parent household—her father had already passed away. Growing up in such circumstances, she was not someone who would dare to escalate matters.
Letting go of the ceiling, Chihiro dropped like a falling leaf.
In the blink of an eye, he landed directly behind Aoba Kokoro. Before she could react, he covered her mouth with one hand. Meeting her terrified gaze, Chihiro smiled faintly.
"Did you miss me?"
Before she could say anything, her resistance vanished beneath his overwhelming presence. When it finally ended, she lay there silently, leaving only deep bite marks on his shoulder as proof of her struggle.
After a long while, Chihiro looked at the exhausted girl and sighed softly.
"Do you hate me?"
Aoba Kokoro didn't answer. The haze in her eyes seemed to overflow—dull, lifeless, and heavy with depression.
"I've always liked you," Chihiro said quietly. "I really do. So… forgive what I did while you were unconscious."
Without waiting for a response, he dressed, opened the window, and let the evening breeze sweep in. His light-blue hair fluttered gently. Dressed in a black suit, he looked every bit like a noble young man.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Chihiro glanced at Aoba Kokoro, now wrapped tightly in a blanket. He waved casually, then leaned backward.
His body fell through the open window.
Midair, Chihiro curled instinctively, rotating like a cat before landing on all fours.
This technique—Cat Fall—was the first skill his kendo master had taught him, allowing him to adjust his body freely while falling from great heights. The name was inelegant, but its usefulness was undeniable.
With a dull thud, Chihiro landed on the ground. He glanced back once at the window, a strange smile flickering across his lips, before turning and running off into the darkness without looking back.
Girls were foolish.
Especially those who believed they were loved.
Though Aoba Kokoro wasn't truly in love, his deliberate hints had been enough to make her believe so. And once that belief took root, many things would be ignored.
For example—
The weakening of her Quirk.
This was something Chihiro had already noticed. Aoba Kokoro's Super Cure, after being analyzed by him, had clearly declined by a level. Previously, even severe wounds would heal in two seconds. But earlier, when he inflicted a small cut on her back, it had taken five or six seconds to recover.
If someone perceptive noticed this, Chihiro couldn't guarantee he wouldn't be followed by troublesome individuals.
As for whether she would report him to the authorities—
Chihiro wasn't worried at all.
This world had laws protecting minors. And under certain circumstances, he would only be labeled as a powerful young offender, facing little more than damage to his carefully cultivated reputation.
As for reputation…
Did Yaoyorozu Chihiro really care?