[ Otani Apartment ]
Eiko was a remarkably fast-developing baby—so much so that she often left her caretakers speechless. Worried that her unusual progress might be a sign of an underlying issue, Amano and Mihara made sure to attend regular doctor visits. Thankfully, Eiko was perfectly healthy—astonishingly so for a baby born early.
Amano worried more than Mihara did. Her protective instincts kicked into overdrive, prompting her to accelerate the baby-proofing of her apartment. Every corner, every table edge, every outlet was secured. Mihara initially teased her for being overly dramatic, that stopped the moment Eiko began crawling before she even reached two months old.
Outside of her abnormal growth, Eiko was the perfect child. Energetic, bright, and blessed with an irresistibly sweet smile. Amano often swore she could die happy each time Eiko smiled at her.
Of course, there were still nights when Eiko demanded attention at ungodly hours. Yet Amano and Mihara had no trouble deciphering what she wanted swiftly, allowing them to go back to sleep without a heavy dent on their sleep schedule.
One night, Mihara was awakened at the devil's hour by the baby monitor's soft crackle. Her heart melted instantly when she saw Eiko pointedly crying toward the camera, arms stretched wide as if to pull it closer to her small body.
When Mihara arrived, she found out that the baby only wanted to be held. Mihara scooped her up, and Eiko immediately quieted in her arms. Normally, Eiko wasn't needy during the night; she slept well on her own. Mihara figured it must have been a bad dream. That night, she moved Eiko's crib into her room, just to be close in case her daughter needed her again.
Amano was just as devoted, even while working extra hours to sustain their household. She was determined to provide the best for the little family, though she often joked that "baby formula costs more than her rent."
The Otani family helped immensely. Every other day, one or more family members would visit to lend a hand—cleaning, cooking, or simply spending time with Eiko to give the friends a break from parenting. They alternated visits to avoid overwhelming the baby, whose development seemed to accelerate by the week.
Mihara, ever the opportunist, began introducing Eiko to general education early. She figured that if her baby's development was already advanced, she might as well make use of it. Surprisingly, Eiko absorbed everything like a sponge. Mihara hadn't expected much at first, assuming it would take time for Eiko to associate mornings with study sessions. But soon, the baby began reacting to the books with visible excitement.
Sometimes Amano would finish work early and watch the two of them together—Mihara patiently reading aloud while Eiko's little hands reached for the colorful pages. Afternoons were devoted to playtime, the three of them gathered in the nursery as laughter filled the air.
By five months, Eiko could stand on her own. She loved grabbing nearby objects to build little "castles" with her caretakers. Amano challenged her with simple puzzles that combined movement and problem-solving, turning learning into a game.
At seven months, Mihara noticed that Eiko tried to mouth along while she read to her. By eight months, Eiko was walking with minimal support and could communicate her needs with short, broken words.
Amano was convinced their little girl was a genius. Mihara hesitated to agree at first—until one night when Eiko, sensing her mother's distress during a nightmare, softly whispered, "Love Mama."
That was enough to make her believe.
From then on, their lessons grew more advanced than the ones taught at school. They filled the apartment with books and introduced Eiko to memory games, sorting exercises, and basic mathematics—all of which she grasped with ease.
Soon, Eiko became increasingly independent. She took her first steps in the kitchen, toddling toward Amano and Mihara as they prepared dinner. With supervision, she began feeding herself, cleaning up her toys, and even shuffling to the bathroom on her own.
She had an odd fondness for television—especially late-night game shows. She would watch with rapt attention, babbling her own answers at the screen while Amano and Mihara laughed from the couch. Those moments became treasured memories.
Like a shadow, Eiko followed them everywhere, watching closely with a never-ending stream of questions. By eleven months, they decided to let her help with simple chores. She sorted vegetables, set the table, cleaned up the living room, and helped put away dishes—each task done with a sense of pride and accomplishment.
When they went out, Eiko's curiosity bloomed even more. She loved meeting other people and would often approach strangers to ask about their quirks with an endearing confidence. Though her speech was still fragmented, most adults found her irresistible and was roped to answering all of her questions with graced patience.
Her curiosity was a gift—one that paired beautifully with her kind heart. Always eager to see her caretakers smile, Eiko became the very center of their lives. Mihara often caught herself thinking that her life could finally be normal.
That was, until Eiko's quirk manifested.
At first, it was subtle—small flickers of movement when she slept, toys shifting an inch or two. But before long, the nightly chaos began.
As soon as Eiko fell asleep, her quirk would activate. Furniture floated weightlessly in the nursery, orbiting her tiny body. Sometimes the air crackled with crystals, sometimes water splashed across the room, sometimes fire burst into life. The "traps," as Amano and Mihara came to call them, always changed—but the chaos always stopped the instant either of them touched Eiko.
Tonight started out peaceful. Both women prayed it would stay that way.
Then the baby monitor crackled. Unfamiliar sounds (warping of furniture and metallic echoes) filled the living room.
Amano and Mihara burst into the nursery. The familiar, chaotic sight greeted them: Eiko asleep, swaddled in her galaxy-themed blanket, floating serenely at the room's center as toys and furniture spun around her.
"Eiko!" Amano called, desperation in her voice. But nothing changed. The furniture continued to swirl. Eiko remained asleep.
Mihara rolled up her sleeves, her body glowing faintly as she activated her quirk. Her expression hardened with determination but before she could step inside, Amano grabbed her arm.
Despite the difference in their strength once Mihara had her quirk activated, the contact was enough to stop her in her tracks.
"What do you think you're doing?" Amano hissed. "If you go in there, you could get seriously hurt. Your quirk doesn't negate damage!"
She brushed her fingers against the bandaged burns on Mihara's hand—the result of a previous fire trap. Eiko's quirk was unpredictable, and Amano refused to risk Mihara getting hurt again.
"She's floating, Amano. Eiko could hurt herself! We have to stop her!" Mihara protested.
"I know, I know—but don't do anything reckless," Amano replied, gently pulling her away from the doorway. She clasped Mihara's trembling hands. "I have a plan that ensures that no one gets hurt. So let me handle this, please?"
Mihara hesitated, torn between trust and fear. She wanted to believe Amano—she always did—but the sight of her daughter suspended midair reopened old wounds she thought she'd buried.
Eiko was developing too fast. Too strong. Too much like him.
Mihara's thoughts spiraled. Maybe Eiko would inherit her father's arrogance, his cruelty, his hunger for control—
"Mihara!" Amano's voice snapped her back. She stepped closer, steady and sure. "How about you finish cleaning up today's dinner and watch some TV? Let me handle this."
Seeing no way to convince Amano otherwise, Mihara obeyed. Amano waited until she was gone, exhaling heavily before turning back to the nursery.
Over the past weeks, Amano had begun to notice a pattern. Each time Eiko's quirk activated, the range of its influence grew. However, no matter how many she seemed to pull in her range, the furniture always revolved around her in a precise formation—almost like a miniature solar system.
She shed both of her socks, balled it up, and tossed it into the room. A burst of water erupted, drenching the sock midair. Amano smirked.
"So it's a water trap tonight, huh?" she muttered.
Stripping down to her undergarments, she stepped cautiously into the room.
The furniture floated around Eiko like planets in orbit, each object locked into motion. Amano's mind had been busy with theories behind the technicalities of Eiko's quirk, while she didn't know what it really was, she understood that Eiko was following a certain pattern in her sleep.
That pattern was laid out in front her once again. It was the same as the previous night. Amano theorized that if Eiko was the "sun," then the floating objects were the "planets"—and the traps were like moons drawn to the gravitational pull of the nearest celestial object.
If that were true, then she (as well as anything that entered the room) was a new celestial body disrupting the balance. Touching Eiko, then, must have neutralized the forces—like two stars colliding into equilibrium.
It was a ridiculous theory, and Amano knew it. But she had to try.
She moved carefully through the nursery, testing her hypothesis step by step. No water struck her. Inch by inch, she approached Eiko until she could finally reach out—
The moment her fingers brushed the baby's cheek, everything stopped.
The furniture crashed softly to the carpet. The air stilled. Eiko let out a sleepy sigh, nestling deeper into her blanket.
Amano smiled in quiet triumph. "You've caused enough trouble tonight, Missy."
She gently laid Eiko back in her crib, ensuring she was comfortable before slipping out. After dressing again, she went downstairs, finding Mihara waiting tensely on the couch with the TV mindlessly continuing in the background.
"How is she?" Mihara asked immediately. The TV dying as soon as she caught sight of Amano's approaching figure.
"Sleeping," Amano said with a grin. "Told you I'd handle it."
Mihara exhaled in relief, reaching out and squeezing Amano's hand.
"I think I figured out how to bypass the traps," Amano continued, explaining her theory that Eiko was creating a miniature solar system in the nursery.
Mihara listened intently. Her skeptical expression gradually softened into one of wonder.
"You might be right," she murmured. "Eiko's always had this... reverence for space. Even as a baby, she's drawn to it. Maybe her quirk's just an extension of that."
Amano's expression turned thoughtful. "Still, her quirk is getting harder to manage. It won't be long before she can affect the entire apartment. We need professional help, a proper quirk analysis—"
"Amano!" Mihara's tone was sharp, though her eyes were full of emotion. "Do you have any idea how much that costs? At least fifty thousand yen! We're barely keeping up with bills as it is. Because of him, no one in my field will hire me. I'm already indebted to you. I don't even want to think about what would've happened if you hadn't taken us in—"
Amano interrupted gently. "Once we explain it to my parents, they'll understand—"
"Your brother just got discharged from the military. Your mother's income is unstable, and your father's under political fire. He knows I'm here, Amano. He knows you're helping me. I can't drag your family into this. Not when I know he's still out there, watching ."
Before she could spiral further, Amano grabbed her shoulders firmly, grounding her.
Their eyes met—Mihara's wide and trembling, Amano's steady and resolute. If she could replace that fear with love, she would. But now wasn't the time.
Mihara was her best friend. Eiko relied on both of their efforts. That had to come first than her internal turmoil.
"I get it," Amano said softly. "We'll figure something out. Together."
Mihara exhaled shakily, heavily leaning against her. The weight of the night's events catching up to her as well as letting her paranoia slip. "I'm sorry. I just... I can't shake the feeling that he still wants to ruin my life. And if that... danger... touches you or your family, I'll never forgive myself."
Amano laughed lightly, easing the tension. "Like I'd ever let that happen. Come on, it's late. Let's get some sleep."
Mihara nodded, exhaustion finally winning over. As she retreated to her room, Amano watched her go, conflicted emotions swirling behind her steady gaze.
Then she turned toward her own door, whispering to herself the same vow she'd made the night Eiko was born.
She couldn't falter now. She needed a plan.
***
a/n: we'll finally focus more on Eiko's perspective in the future chapters :)