Today's chapter
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Thirty minutes before Akira struck Muscular:
He ran.
His feet pounded against the dirt path, each step jarring his bones. He ran toward the evacuation point, away from the smoke, away from the screams, away from his mother.
The forest blurred around him. Branches whipped at his face, leaving stinging welts, but he didn't feel them. The only thing he felt was the burning in his lungs and the gutting feeling of shame eating a hole in his gut.
Tears blurred his vision. He tried to wipe them away with a dirty sleeve, but they kept coming, fueled by a mixture of grief, fear, and a burning, hateful self-loathing.
I left them, he thought, his breath coming in ragged, sobbing gasps. I ran away. I actually ran away.
He knew the logic. He was thirteen. He was weak. He was a liability in a battle between Pro Heroes and a villain. Staying meant death. Leaving meant completing the mission: saving the villagers. It was the hero's choice. It was the rational choice.
But it felt like cowardice. It felt like every instinct he had developed in his past life ā the instinct to survive, to keep his head down ā had taken over and piloted his body away from the people he loved.
As he ran, his mind, desperate for a distraction from the guilt, latched onto a concept.
Hope.
What was hope, really?
In this world ā this vibrant, chaotic world of quirks and costumes ā hope was a product. It was a commodity sold on billboards, broadcast on TV screens, and printed on merchandise. It was the smiling face of All Might saying, "I am here."
Hope was waiting. It was the passive act of waiting for someone stronger, someone faster, someone better to come and save you. It was looking at the sky and praying for a cape to descend.
That's how the whole philosophy works, Akira realized, his cynicism sharpening into a blade. People don't save themselves. They wait for a Hero. They wait for Hope to arrive on a schedule.
And the world loved All Might for it. Heck, even Akira had liked him for it. It was comforting to believe that a Symbol existed. It was comforting to think that no matter how bad things got, there was a golden safety net underneath society.
But is it enough?
The question rattled in his skull. Was hope enough when a villain could shatter a mountain? Was hope enough when your mother was bleeding out in the mud?
He crossed a ridge and saw them. The villagers were moving slowly down the trail, a huddled mass of frightened people carrying bags and children. They looked like refugees from a war zone, their faces pale and drawn.
"He's here!" someone shouted, pointing up the trail.
They looked at him with relief washing over their faces. To them, he wasn't a boy running away. He was the hero who had saved them.
"Thank god you made it," the old man from the vegetable stall said, clapping him on the shoulder. His hand was shaking. "We contacted the authorities. The police are on their way. We have to wait here until they secure the area."
Wait, Akira thought bitterly. Of course.
He nodded, not trusting his voice to remain steady. He fell into step beside them, his eyes fixed on the ground, watching his sneakers kick up dust.
"Mommy, will we be fine?"
The voice was small, trembling like a leaf.
Akira looked up. A little girl ā the one with the pigtails who had declared herself his fiancĆ©e earlier that day ā was clinging to her mother's leg. Her face was streaked with tears and dirt. She looked at the smoke rising from her home with terrified eyes.
The mother smoothed the girl's hair, forcing a smile. It was a mask of bravery worn for the child's sake.
"Yes, sweetie," the mother said, her voice wavering. "We will be fine because the heroes are fighting for us. We have to have hope in them. They always win."
Akira stopped.
The world seemed to freeze. The wind died down. The sounds of the forest faded into a dull buzz.
Hope in heroes.
The phrase echoed in his mind, bouncing off the walls of his skull like a ricochet.
Hope in heroes meant waiting for Honoka to die. Hope in heroes meant trusting that Sasha could win a fight she was already losing against a monster that defied physics. Hope meant betting his mother's life on a coin toss he couldn't control.
He looked at his hands. They were shaking. Not from fear, but from rage.
Fuck hope, Akira decided.
It wasn't a curse. It was a vow. It was a rejection of the passive waiting game.
He turned around, facing the smoke.
"Hey!" the old man called out, noticing him stop. "Boy! Where are you going? The police are ā "
"I'm not waiting," Akira snarled.
He ignited.
Phoenix Drive: Overclock.
Blue flames exploded from his calves, digging trenches into the dirt as he launched himself forward. He didn't look back at the villagers screaming for him to stop. He didn't look back at safety.
"Sorry, Mom," he whispered to the wind rushing past his ears. "Either we die together, or we live together. But I am not waiting for a body bag."
He sprinted back up the mountain, running toward the monster, leaving hope behind in the dust.
Present Time:
Akira's leg connected with Muscular's face with the force of a wrecking ball.
CRACK.
The sound was sickeningly loud. The villain's head snapped back. He stumbled, his balance compromised by exhaustion, and the sudden, blinding impact from his blind side.
Akira didn't wait to see if he fell.
He landed in the mud, sliding next to his mother. She was broken. Her leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, her arm hung uselessly by her side, and her face was pale from blood loss.
"Akira?" she gasped, her eyes wide with horror as she focused on him. "What...?"
He didn't speak. He grabbed her good arm, hauled her onto his back, and ran.
"ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?!" Honoka screamed right in his ear, finding strength in her fury. "I TOLD YOU TO RUN!"
She started to cry, hitting his shoulder weakly with her good hand. "Now both of us will die! You idiot! You stupid, stupid boy! Why didn't you listen?!"
"AND SO WHAT?!" Akira yelled back, his voice raw and scraping his throat.
"I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN LIVE KNOWING I LEFT YOU TO DIE!" he roared, tears streaming down his face. "NOW SHUT UP BEFORE THAT FREAK FINDS US!"
Honoka went silent. She rested her head against his neck, sobbing quietly.
Akira ran. He didn't run toward the village. He ran perpendicular to the trail, heading deep into the forest. He couldn't risk leading Muscular to the evacuees.
He ran until his lungs burned like acid. He poured every ounce of his blue flame into his muscles, using Phoenix Drive to keep his legs moving even as they tore themselves apart. He could feel the fibers snapping and re-knitting, a constant cycle of agony that kept him upright.
He didn't know where he was going. He was just moving.
Get to safety, he chanted mentally. Find a cave. Find a river. Find anything that breaks the line of sight.
He burst through a dense thicket of bushes, his momentum carrying him forward... and stopped.
His heart sank into his stomach.
In front of him, the ground vanished.
It was a cliff. A sheer drop of three hundred feet into a dried-up riverbed full of jagged rocks. The canyon stretched out before him, a massive scar in the earth.
"No," Akira whispered, staring at the drop. "No, no, no, no."
He spun around to retreat.
THUD.
The ground shook. Muscular landed ten feet away, blocking the only exit.
The villain was panting heavily. Blood was still pouring from his eye socket, painting his chest red, but his grin was back. It was wider, crazier than before. He looked like a nightmare brought to life.
"I gotta say, kid," Muscular wheezed, wiping blood from his chin. "That was a solid strike. For a kid, that is. You actually made me dizzy for a second."
He laughed, a gurgling sound that bubbled up from his chest.
"But this is where it ends. No more running. No more hiding."
Akira breathed heavily. He checked his core. It was empty. The blue flame was flickering, sputtering out like a dying candle in a hurricane. He had used too much speed, too much healing.
He was cornered. He was weak. His Phoenix Drive was a cheap imitation of his mother's power, and even she ā a pro hero ā couldn't stop this monster.
He looked at Muscular. He looked at the cliff.
A plan formed in his mind. It was a stupid plan. A suicidal plan. But it was the only plan that gave Honoka a 1% chance.
"Mom," he whispered, tilting his head slightly. "Sorry. This is gonna hurt a bit."
"What?" Honoka mumbled, barely conscious, her head lolling on his shoulder.
Akira didn't explain. He began to run and just then threw himself sideways, acting as if he tripped over a root. He twisted in mid-air, using his momentum to fling Honoka away from him, toward a thick cluster of trees near the edge of the cliff.
She rolled into the brush.
Akira scrambled up, standing alone between the villain and the drop. He spread his arms.
"COME ON!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "IT'S JUST ME AND YOU, FREAK!"
Muscular roared and charged.
Akira dodged. Barely. A fist the size of a boulder slammed into the ground where he had been standing a millisecond ago, sending shockwaves through his feet and shattering the rock.
They fought.
Or rather, Akira survived.
He danced around the villain, using his small size and the lingering dregs of his speed to lure Muscular closer to the edge. He ducked under haymakers that would have taken his head off. He rolled away from stomps that cracked the bedrock.
He took glancing blows. A backhand cracked his ribs. A knee to the gut made him cough blood. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead that blinded his left eye.
But he kept moving.
Just a little closer, he thought, his vision swimming with black spots. Come on, meathead. Take the bait.
Muscular lunged.
Akira was now standing on the edge. His heels were hanging over the void. Wind whipped at his back.
Muscular rushed him, a juggernaut of momentum and muscle.
NOW.
Akira pushed everything he had left into his legs.
He jumped.
Not away. Over.
He vaulted over Muscular's head, pushing off the villain's massive shoulders with his hands. In mid-air, he snapped his fingers, condensing the last spark of his blue flame into a solid platform right behind Muscular's head.
He kicked off the platform, launching himself like a missile into Muscular's back, aiming to push him over the edge.
THIS IS IT! Akira yelled in his mind. GO OVER! GRAVITY DO YOUR JOB!
He hit Muscular with everything he had.
But reality is often disappointing.
Muscular stumbled forward. He teetered on the edge, his arms windmilling.
But he didn't fall.
At the final moment, muscle fibers shot out of his feet, digging into the rock like anchors. He stopped himself inches from death, the rocks crumbling beneath his toes.
He stood up slowly. He turned around.
"Nice try, kid," Muscular laughed, grabbing Akira by the throat before he could land. "Really. A+ for effort. But do you think I am stupid?"
He lifted Akira off the ground. He dangled him over the cliff. Akira kicked, his legs flailing in the empty air. He punched Muscular's arm, but it was like punching steel cables.
"Let... go..." Akira gasped, clawing at the hand crushing his windpipe.
Muscular grinned. "Okay."
He punched him.
WHAM.
Akira coughed blood, his ribs screaming in agony.
Muscular punched him again.
WHAM.
"Stop!" Honoka screamed from the bushes, dragging herself forward. "Stop it! Take me! Leave him alone!"
Muscular ignored her. He punched Akira again. And again.
Akira went numb. His vision blacked out. The pain faded into a dull, distant throb. He couldn't feel his legs. He couldn't feel his arms.
So this is it, he thought dimly. Game over. No continue.
Muscular stopped. He brought Akira's face close to his own. The villain's remaining eye was wide with sadistic glee.
"Goodbye, little bug," the villain whispered. "Now I am going to enjoy killing your mother slowly."
He opened his hand.
Akira fell.
The wind rushed past his ears. The cliff face blurred into a streak of gray.
He was back in the void.
It wasn't the white void of the Golden Retriever god. It wasn't the peaceful nothingness of sleep. It was a dark, cold, empty place inside his own soul.
As he fell toward the rocks below, time seemed to stretch. Memories flashed before his eyes. Not his old life. This life.
The smell of grilled fish in the morning. The pink apron Honoka made him wear. The arcade sounds in Akihabara. Honoka laughing on the beach with a mouthful of takoyaki. Honoka crying on his shoulder under the palm trees.
The grave.
The promise.
His body jerked in mid-air.
Don't worry, Dad. I'm not a pacifist like you. I'll fight dirty. I'll run away if I have to. But I will take care of her. I will make sure she never has to cry like that again.
The promise echoed in the void.
I'll take care of her.
His eyes snapped open. He saw the jagged rocks rushing up to meet him.
BUT HE COULD NOT MOVE.
"FUCKING MOVE!" he yelled inside his mind.
He tried to summon the blue flame. Nothing. The pool was dry. He scraped the bottom of his soul, but there was nothing left to give.
"ARE YOU DONE YET, YOU FUCKER?!" he screamed at himself. "ARE YOU GOING TO DIE HERE AND LET HER DIE?!"
He dug deeper. Past the exhaustion. Past the stamina limit. Past the biological safety mechanisms that kept humans from destroying themselves.
SOMETHING! he mentally roared. THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING ELSE!
His core began to vibrate.
It wasn't the soothing hum of the blue flame. It was a violent, jagged tremor that felt like an earthquake in his chest.
"COME ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN-"
And then, he went silent.
His breathing stopped.
The last wisp of blue flame in his core burned out, consumed by the effort.
Akira Shuzenji's heart stopped beating.
At that moment, Akira was dead.
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And in that moment of death, deep within the ashes of his exhausted core, a spark ignited.
It wasn't blue. It wasn't golden.
It was red.
Violent, angry, volcanic orange-red. It was the color of blood. It was the color of destruction.
Akira's heart beat again. A singular, thunderous thump that resonated through his entire body, shocking his nervous system back online.
He took a breath.
The air around him ignited.
He opened his mouth and said one word.
"Burn."
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WELL WELL WELL!!! Looks like someone woke upš„š„š„
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