Present Timeline
Takeshi sat quietly in the garden, legs crossed, absentmindedly tracing patterns in the dirt as he waited.
The afternoon sun hung low, casting a warm glow over the fields. It was peaceful—almost too peaceful.
Then he saw him.
Haruto was walking toward him, a small cloth bag in hand.
"Hey, Takeshi," he called out, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Look what I brought."
Takeshi's nose twitched.
His eyes lit up instantly.
"Dad! I can smell it from here—you got onigiri from Takumi-san's shop!"
Haruto laughed, clearly pleased with himself. "Of course I did."
Without another word, he scooped Takeshi up and settled him onto his shoulders.
"Let's head home. We'll let your mom decide how many you're allowed to eat."
Takeshi grinned—but then paused.
There was something he had meant to say.
Something important.
He frowned slightly, trying to recall it…
And then—
"Hey, little one."
The voice came from the side.
Both of them turned.
An old man stood at the entrance of a narrow alley, smiling warmly.
"Is this your father?" he asked casually.
Haruto's expression hardened immediately.
He stepped forward, placing himself slightly between the man and his son.
"Who are you?" he asked, voice low and guarded. "What do you want?"
Before the tension could escalate, Takeshi leaned forward.
"Dad, wait—I know him," he said quickly. "We met before. He said he could train me to become a hero."
The old man's smile widened.
"That's right," he said. "Name's Yami. I run a small dojo just down this alley. You're welcome to visit anytime."
Haruto didn't relax.
But he didn't dismiss it either.
"…We'll take a look," he said cautiously.
They hadn't taken more than a few steps into the alley—
When everything changed.
Two figures stepped out from the shadows, blocking the path.
Haruto stopped instantly.
His instincts screamed.
"Boss…" one of the men muttered nervously. His thin face twitched, a dark mole near his lip. "Why bring him here? That's the guy who killed the bear."
The second man—taller, with a jagged scar running across his face—smirked.
"Relax," he said. "If he's strong, we just break him first."
The air shifted.
Hostile.
Heavy.
Both men activated their quirks at once.
The mole-faced man's arms twisted unnaturally—stretching, unraveling into thick, rope-like tendrils that shot forward—
Before Takeshi could react—
They wrapped around him.
Tight.
Unyielding.
"Let me go!" Takeshi struggled, but the bindings only tightened, digging into his arms.
"Stay still," the man sneered. "You're worth more intact."
Haruto moved instantly.
His arms shifted, transforming—mass thickening, hardening into the shape of a massive hammer.
With a roar, he swung—
But—
CLANG!
Yami stepped in.
His arm hardened into steel mid-motion, intercepting the strike with precise timing.
The impact echoed sharply through the alley.
Haruto staggered back.
Just for a second.
It was enough.
The scarred man lunged forward, his legs compressing—then releasing like coiled springs.
He shot forward—
And slammed a kick into Haruto's chest.
The force sent him crashing into the wall behind him.
A sharp crack echoed.
Blood spilled from his lips.
"Dad!" Takeshi's voice broke.
He thrashed harder against the restraints, panic rising in his chest.
"Why are you doing this?!" he shouted, tears blurring his vision. "We didn't do anything to you!"
The mole-faced man laughed—and slapped him across the face.
Hard.
"Shut up," he spat. "You're not a person to us. You're a product."
He leaned closer, voice dripping with greed.
"There are people who pay well for kids like you. Strong quirks. Rare potential. You'll fetch a nice price."
Takeshi froze.
"…What?"
"An organization's been looking," the man continued. "Experiments, training—whatever they do, not our problem."
Rage surged.
Hot.
Violent.
But then—
"Take me instead!"
Haruto's voice cut through everything.
Weak—but unyielding.
"I won't resist," he said, struggling to rise. "Just let my son go!"
Yami sighed, almost disappointed.
"You should listen to him," he said calmly. "Leave the boy. Walk away. We'll forget you were here."
Haruto didn't hesitate.
He attacked again.
But Yami moved faster.
A sharp sidestep—
A counter—
And Haruto was slammed into the wall again, his body finally giving out as he collapsed.
"Tch. Stubborn."
Something inside Takeshi broke.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Something deeper.
Darker.
The bindings around him trembled.
Then—
Snapped.
Like dry twigs.
Power surged through his body.
Wild.
Uncontrolled.
His breath hitched as the world sharpened—every movement, every sound, every heartbeat amplified.
Before anyone could react—
He moved.
The mole-faced man didn't even have time to raise his guard.
Takeshi's fist slammed into his stomach.
CRACK!
The sound of ribs breaking echoed as the man folded in on himself, air exploding from his lungs.
Takeshi didn't stop.
He turned—
And drove a kick into the scarred man's back.
Bones snapped.
The man was launched forward, crashing violently into the ground.
Yami's expression changed.
For the first time—
He looked serious.
His entire body hardened, turning to dense metal.
A defensive stance.
Calculated.
Too late.
Takeshi was already in front of him.
His fist came down—
And collided with steel.
CLANG!
The impact rang out like a bell—
And sent Yami flying backward, his body crashing against the far wall before going still.
Silence.
Takeshi stood there, trembling.
Breathing hard.
Too hard.
The power still surged through him—but now it hurt.
His muscles burned.
His head throbbed.
Each heartbeat felt too loud, too heavy, like it was echoing inside his skull.
The world… tilted.
"Dad…"
He stumbled forward, dropping beside Haruto.
"Dad… wake up…"
But his voice felt distant.
Faint.
The strength that had filled him moments ago was gone—ripped away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.
His vision blurred.
His limbs felt heavy.
Too heavy.
He couldn't hold himself up anymore.
The last thing he felt—
Was the ground beneath him.
And then—
Darkness.
End of Chapter 6