[ Otani Apartment; A Few Days Later ]
Eiko hadn't made much progress with her quirk. Her sessions that focused on improving her control over mana were slow and frustrating. She knew the techniques by heart; she could even perform them in her sleep. But applying them consciously was an entirely different matter.
What she lacked were the proper resources and equipment. Training true control required a quiet place to meditate, unwavering focus, and consistent practice.
Unfortunately, finding that quiet was a luxury in their apartment's location. They lived in a semi-commercial area sandwiched between two other apartment complexes and a dozen small shops that littered the streets and alleys. There was constant noise downstairs that could be heard from their unit, noise that grew louder as rush hour rolled in.
She tried the nearby parks and nature areas, but they were no better. Always packed with children and their parents whose laughter and shouting made the mere thought of trying to concentrate impossible.
Having exhausted all options (except for asking her mother), Eiko decided to endure it. She saw it as part of her training that allowed her to grow stronger. Perhaps, once she mastered the basics, she could develop a soundproofing spell to block out the world.
Beyond control training, she worked on her mana sensitivity. Progress was just as slow, but unlike control, her sensitivity training yielded tangible results. She could now sense fluctuations in her mana pool—a small but meaningful step. It was childish compared to her former self, but a valuable safeguard for when her powers might act on their own. She couldn't afford hurting her mother. Even if it were an accident, she knew that she would never forgive herself.
Mihara, meanwhile, couldn't help worrying. Her daughter had grown deeply absorbed in her quirk. Every afternoon, Eiko meditated or examined the faint blue fog that surrounded her body. Mihara always stayed nearby, overlooking her progress and ensuring her child wouldn't hurt or go overboard with her training.
The more she observed, the more amazed she became. Eiko's earnest and consistent behavior exceeded her expectations. Eiko had always been a child of action, but this kind of determination from someone not yet a year old filled Mihara with both pride and concern.
She was proud of how quickly her daughter was growing, yet anxious that Eiko might not experience a sense of normalcy under her care. After all, Eiko was the reason she was able to escape from her hellish environment despite being renounced of all her familial ties.
So to make sure that her daughter lived a balanced life, Mihara made every effort to weave fun and play into their days. She drew silly faces on vegetables, invented games, and handed Eiko the silliest toys she could find. Eiko would laugh and play for a while before drifting back into her quiet, disciplined world of training.
Sometimes Mihara wondered if she was doing enough. Only for the dozens of advice Amano would tell her come to mind: "Suck it up and cherish the time you have together."
She was sure that woman placed a spell on her for each advice. It would fill her with enough demonstration to power a wind turbine.
***
[ Central Hospital ]
The day of Eiko's quirk registration finally arrived.
Mihara and Eiko waited in the crowded lobby, their names yet to be called. The hospital was unusually full after a large villain raid earlier that morning, meaning their wait took longer than the average time.
To pass the time, Mihara read a storybook aloud, her soft voice mixing with Eiko's quiet giggles.
"Mihara Otani and Eiko Otani?"
Mihara raised her head. "That's us!" She packed their things and took Eiko's hand, following the nurse through the maze of hallways.
"You're here for a quirk examination and registration—basically the full package, correct?" the nurse asked, eyes glued to her clipboard.
"Yes, that's correct," Mihara replied.
They arrived at a different wing of the hospital where the rooms were wider and held bulky machinery used to test different quirks. In one of the room, she saw a child in the process of testing his quirk and she saw her daughter would no doubt experience that as well. Mihara couldn't help admiring how rapidly quirk-related technology advanced.
The nurse stopped at one door by the end of the hallway. "Dr. Tomisaku Honjo is ready to see you." She bowed politely before she opened it to reveal a quant office on the other side.
It was different from the rooms in the hallways they passed. It felt like the kind of office that Amano would own if she they had the space in their apartment.
Inside stood an elderly man with kind eyes and a warm smile. Though his body bore the marks of age, his movements carried youthful energy.
He extended a hand. "Welcome. I'm Dr. Tomisaku Honjo, a licensed specialist in quirk assessment. You must be Mihara Otani." His gaze fell on Eiko. "And this must be your daughter, Eiko. It's a pleasure to meet you both."
"We'll be in your care, Dr. Honjo," Mihara said as she shook his hand.
He guided them to his desk. Eiko climbed onto the tall chair while Mihara stood beside her with a polite smile.
"Let's begin," he said cheerfully. "When and how did her quirk first manifest?"
Mihara placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, prompting Eiko to sit straighter. "It happened a few months ago, on an autumn night. We heard strange noises from her room and found her floating in the air—along with furniture that were about her size."
"Hmm…" The doctor typed quickly. "Sounds like some kind of telekinesis."
Mihara nearly laughed. If only it were that simple. She gently stroked Eiko's hair as she continued, "When we tried to approach, several… 'traps', for lack of a better word, would activate. Fire, water, stone—it changed every night, and with every use it grew stronger. The only way to deactivate it was by touching Eiko directly. The incidents stopped since she realized once she was told of her quirk's existence."
Dr. Honjo's hands froze above the keyboard. His glasses slipped down his nose as he blinked in disbelief. "...were there any injuries caused by these traps?"
"Once," Mihara admitted. "I triggered a fire trap that burned my hand. It wasn't severe, but it took a few days to heal."
Eiko's eyes widened. This was the first time that she was hearing about this. She knew that the guilt welling up in her chest was irrational. It was an accident. One that she had no control of. Yet it festered.
"I see…" the doctor murmured. "May I ask what quirks you and your husband possess?"
The mention of her father made Mihara's gentle expression darken. "I can enhance my physical abilities with not much change in my durability. My ex-husband could conjure elements based on the food he consumed."
"My apologies, I wasn't aware," Dr. Honjo said quickly. "Does Eiko's diet influence her quirk in any way?"
"No. My partner and I tested several foods and found no correlation."
He frowned, thoughtful. Most quirks bore clear traces of parental inheritance. Eiko's, however, seemed entirely unique. He had an inkling as to what the child experienced but he needed to be sure before he could officially label it.
"I'll have a team of nurses conduct some basic tests on the little one," he said. "In the meantime, I'll review similar cases. May I ask how old is Eiko?"
"Eleven months and three weeks."
"Alright, the tests we'll conduct will be adjusted to ensure that no harm shall befall on your dau—" He suddenly paused He glanced at his monitor—then back at Eiko, his eyebrows furrowing. "Wait… are you sure she's barely a year old?"
Mihara smiled faintly. "It surprised us too. She's been developing faster than most children. I can assure you that it has been eleven months since I've given birth to her."
"I-I see… Can she talk?"
"Eiko? Wouldn't you like to greet the kind doctor?"
Eiko nodded at her mother and waved politely at the old man. "Good afternoon, Dr. Honjo!"
The doctor blinked, baffled. "Right… well, we'll continue this conversation after the tests."
A knock at the door signaled the team's arrival. Mihara and Eiko followed them to one of the rooms they passed by earlier. A nurse explained that they called it a testing chamber. It was filled with intricate machinery that gathered data on the extent of Eiko's quirk. It was archaic compared to the stuff they used in I-Island, but they assured that it would get the job done.
The nurses conducted a series of exercises, asking Eiko to activate her quirk in controlled bursts. They didn't seem alarmed when her body was briefly cloaked in dark blue fog, but when she began asking how each exercise worked, they exchanged puzzled glances before proceeding.
Mihara's maternal instincts flared whenever she saw her daughter strapped into equipment that looked unsafe. Still, she relaxed whenever Eiko laughed, clearly enjoying herself. She noted that the nurses were well-verse in making sure the child was comfortable as the test was being conducted.
For Eiko, the whole process was fascinating. Her mother had been right—understanding her limits was essential.
In one test, she was told to push a weighted box as hard as she could. At first, she didn't take it seriously. It was only a heavy box—her opinion was drastically changed when that box began resisting and pushing her back.
As if on instinct, her small body strained; her mana surged. The feeling being trapped in the corner awakened something in her—a flicker of focus as she realized something that she didn't know she was ignoring.
While she could perform the techniques to perfection, she didn't really give it effort. Not in a way that she would if she were back in her previous world. Her family's warm presence made her forget a part of herself that she felt like she didn't need with such care that they gave her.
She felt grateful. For her mother, who had given her this chance, and for her aunt, who sacrificed so much for their family. She was determined to be worthy of them both.
When the tests ended, the nurses were astonished by the results. Eiko innocently cheered along with them as they walked back to the doctor's office, her small hand clutching Mihara's.
Letting lose felt good. Eiko thought.
Dr. Honjo looked exhausted when they returned. "What are these results…?" he muttered, eyes wide.
A nurse stepped in. "We've completed all tests, Doctor."
"Ah, yes! Thank you, Miss Tanaka." He ushered Mihara and Eiko in.
After scanning his monitor one last time, he straightened up. "Based on the data, I believe your daughter's quirk mutated. Its attributes bear no resemblance to either parent's. Such quirks are as rare as being born quirkless."
He adjusted his glasses. "Eiko's quirk allows her to gather and release energy. The energy manifests in various forms depending on her will. If it would be appropriate to express my opinion, I think that it's a remarkable gift. If she puts her mind to it, she could become a great hero—perhaps even surpass All Might in the future! Isn't that exciting, Eiko? To be able to become the strongest in the world?"
Eiko blinked, surprised at how accurately he'd summarized her abilities by only conducting those meager tests.
She thought about it for a moment. "Would that help my family?"
"Of course!" he said with a grin. "Heroes earn plenty of—"
"Eiko." Mihara's tone cut through his words. "Could you ask one of the nurses where we can buy snacks? You must be hungry after all those tests."
Eiko hesitated wanting to learn more what being a Hero entailed. Her hesitation disappeared when she sensed the tension. She didn't want to be in the way of her mother's anger, so she obeyed.
The nurses greeted her warmly as she left the room.
Dr. Honjo cleared his throat nervously. "Did I say something wrong, Miss Otani?"
"I know what you're doing, Doctor," Mihara said quietly. "You're afraid of her. With how fast she's developing, it's easy to imagine her rivaling the Symbol of Peace before she's reached high school."
The doctor froze as Mihara's quirk flared faintly, her presence radiating quiet power.
"When my quirk awakened, people called me gifted," she continued. "They pushed me to become a Hero. I believed them for a time—until I realized that their support was fabricated under a disgusting guise to marry me off to a powerful man. I won't let my daughter live under the same pressure. If she chooses that path, it will be by her own will, not the expectations of others.
You see her power and think of how it could reshape society. I see my daughter—extraordinary, yes, but still a child. I accept that you think that Eiko has the qualities of a hero. What I can't accept is you trying to plant the idea that her life is more valuable because it serves a cause."
Dr. Honjo wiped sweat from his brow. "I understand your concerns, Miss Otani, and I apologize for overstepping. But once her results are in the system, people will come looking."
"I know," Mihara replied firmly. "That's why I'm asking you to alter the records. I'll pay whatever it takes—just give my daughter a choice."
"That's… a hard ask. I could lose my license—my job."
Mihara bowed deeply. "Please. It doesn't have to be entirely false."
He hesitated. "If you knew the risks, why come here at all? There are smaller agencies that could have handled this discreetly."
"At first, I wanted answers—how to help Eiko control her quirk. But she's already shown greater understanding than we ever expected. Even so, she's confused. She's like a machine missing vital pieces. We couldn't afford private facilities to do it on our own, so this was our best option.
We needed to know her current limits. And it worked. She learned something about herself today. But she's still too young. Please, allow her a few years of peace before the world drags her into its chaos."
A few minutes later, Eiko returned, snacks in hand. The atmosphere in the room had shifted. Dr. Honjo looked thoughtful; Mihara, quietly relieved.
Eiko didn't ask what had happened—she trusted her mother to handle it.
Before they left, the doctor finalized the registration. Her quirk would be recorded under the name Manifestation. She thought it was fitting.
When she looked over her own file, she realized that the numbers didn't match what the nurses showed her earlier. Looking over her mother's face confirmed that she had something to do with it.
On the train home, Mihara sat quietly, exhaustion lining her face. Eiko leaned against her, feeling the comforting rhythm of her mother's heartbeat.
Whatever it was that her mother had done, she was sure that it was for her own good. Eiko wanted to prove to her mother that she could handle whatever life threw at her. For that she needed to be stronger.