Note to self: don't break anything in Tsutsumi Heights, or your mind will be filled with telepathic lecturing.
Do you understand, young man!?
It's annoying, but at least she's cute—like an angry hamster. Angry one moment, giving you the silent treatment the next… then breaking it to ask for help in the kitchen.
"Why are you thinking about getting a pet hamster? What has gotten into you? I thought you hated those." Tsutsumi Sayuri's face turned puzzled. "Did a robot hit your head while you were out?"
She cut an onion while he washed the pile of dishes in the sink—"helping."
"That girl you were with said UA had you all fighting giant robots. If you got injured at school, you should tell me so we can get a proper lawyer."
"She was right—we did fight artificial villain bots," Aoyama said, scrubbing a plate, "but they had intense fail-safes that restricted their power."
He unhooked the faucet head, pulling it closer to rinse the porcelain dish.
"I saw robots with enough power to bulldoze storefronts stop just before hitting a girl who slipped. So it was mostly safe. The only injuries you'd get would be your own fault—using too much strength, exhausting your stamina, tripping and spraining your ankle… yada, yada."
"Hmm," she sighed. "I guess they prepared for legal complaints from parents." She looked over her shoulder, putting the diced onions into a pan and starting to fry them.
—
First Person POV
I couldn't focus on the dishes. My eyes kept drifting over my shoulder. It wasn't easy to restrain my thoughts with a telepath in the room.
Especially one who gave me a strange sense of déjà vu.
Her voice. The tilt of her hips as she focused on cooking. The temptation I felt when she looked into my eyes and brushed her violet hair aside.
Scrub. Scrub. Scrub.
She turned, spatula in hand.
"Even if they were safe… I'm still worried about your health."
She met my eyes. "Are you sure you weren't hit by a stray quirk-user?"
"Ever since I saw you, I can't even make out what you're thinking," she admitted. "It's like your head has become a confusing jumble of mostly incoherent words."
"Incoherent how?" I asked, already understanding she couldn't get a clear read on me—or she would've noticed my gaze.
"Right now… I don't even get it," she shook her head. "Forget it. I might just be getting old."
She adjusted the strap of her apron over her loose white-and-purple striped sweater.
I stared at her slim back and full hips from behind.
Old? I don't think that word should even exist in your vocabulary.
I let my thoughts wander more freely, unsure what was blocking her from reading my mind, but I had a hunch it was either my system…
Or something related to me becoming a mutate with the Lightforce and alien symbiote cells hidden inside me.
I didn't know which guess was right, so I enjoyed my "mother's" blind spot and looked at her dress, lit from in front by the oven's orange glow.
!!
I froze mid-scrub, stunned as I caught sight of her pantyless shelloute.
She's not wearing anything?
But she took the time to change out of her suit… Did she just forget?
I could see everything beneath her skirt—from her toned legs to the crotch outline between her thighs.
I stared at her mature pussy-lips like a dog in heat.
She turned slightly toward the sink, and I quickly looked away from her thighs.
"These are almost golden… Aoyama, can you stop for a second and get my sake?"
she asked, flipping the onions she was searing.
I nodded quickly, putting down the sponge. For a second, I thought she'd caught me staring—but she was just asking for help.
"Let me just run a bit of water and let the dishes soak a little longer," I said, knowing if I moved too quickly, the bulge in my pants would be hard to explain.
I knew what I was doing—sneaking a peek while she was turned—was wrong.
That I should respect the mother-son relationship the previous owner of this body had with Sayuri.
But…
"Do you need anything else while my hands are free~?" I asked, opening the cabinet after finishing at the sink and taking out her favorite sake cup.
…If the old Aoyama didn't want me to hit on his mother, he shouldn't have forced me to date five women with his quirk—and never said I couldn't go after a MILF like her.
"Hmm, I guess I could have a drink," she laughed, "but don't think this bribe will be enough to make me forget you punching through your bedroom wall."
"It was worth a try," I replied, setting the cup down.
Pour. Pour. Pour.
I tilted the bottle, filling it with the creamy liquor.
Sayuri lifted it, taking a sip.
"Mmm," she hummed. "Yes, this will help the onions caramelize."
"Aoyama, be a dear and grab some soy sauce, sugar, and salt next. Oh—and tell me, what was that suit you were wearing?"
"That…" I mumbled, thinking of how to spin it.
I walked to the cabinet, grabbing the salt. "It's not a major secret. I was going to tell you after dinner."
I returned with the condiments, placing them neatly before reaching for the sake and refilling her cup.
"You see, today's test wasn't just about getting points."
"It was for pro heroes to scout new talent."
She lowered the heat on the pan, taking another sip. I took that as my cue to continue.
"I was lucky enough to be chosen by an American hero."
Her eyes widened, and she almost choked on her drink.
"An American pro hero?" she blurted.
"Yeah. He was watching me fight with my quirk," I said calmly. "He figured out my weak points—that even though I could make an army of clones, I lacked the strength to back them up."
"That's a given, since all that man left you was his useless quirk," she muttered, annoyed at her ex-husband's lingering influence.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose before opening the sugar and coating the onions. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Go on."
She added salt and soy sauce, then poured sake into the pan.
The sharp scent bloomed instantly—sweet and warm—rising with the steam as she tilted the pan, letting the onions soak it in.
"My bad quirk genetics aside," I chuckled, taking the jars away, "the pro hero pointed out my flaws and said the best way to overcome them is to get stronger."
"If one clone halves my strength, and two divide it into thirds, I just need to become three times stronger than I normally am. That way, they'll be comparable to a normal person."
She listened quietly, turning the heat down completely.
"That would only help me deal with basic thugs," I continued. "I thought that was his way of telling me to quit trying to be a hero and become a cop or something."
"That isn't a bad idea, to be honest. I was thinking the same thing," Sayuri said, checking on the rice.
"If you study hard, maybe you could become a lawyer instead."
I put on a fake look of annoyance.
"Well, the point I was getting at, Mother, is that he gave me a test—to push myself to the limit using his synthetic power suit. It'll help me grow stronger and give me more insight into my quirk."
"And in a week, if I can bring out its full power, I could become his successor and take on his mantle here in Japan."
"That's really something. You're given something to cover your shortcomings, and the first thing you do is destroy private property." She wiped a nonexistent tear.
"I'm so, so happy… Come on, Aoyama, tell me the name of this pro hero so I can sue him for repairs—and for endangering my child with such a bizarre suit."
I stared at her, unsure if she was serious—until she smiled and burst into laughter.
She opened her arms and hugged me.
"I won't be asking for repairs, silly," she said, holding me. "That'll have to wait until he decides to mentor you. I don't want him going back on his word or sabotaging you out of spite."
"It's better for you to win this test and show you're competent."
She pressed me against her body, holding me tightly.
Her apron shifted as I lowered my face into it—
"So try your best."
Her voice was muffled against her heartbeat.
She truly was happy for her son.
"I will," I whispered back, closing my eyes. I could feel the warmth in her embrace.
Her expression softened as she caressed my back.
It was the most genuine love a mother could show…
While I, on the other hand—smothered in her embrace—couldn't shake the urge stirring beneath the surface. I breathed heavier, her scent making me hesitate before returning the hug.
"I know you will… you're my son, after all."
I exhaled without a response.
"I'm yours."
I didn't know why I said that.
It came out with a weight that felt more like an anchor than reassurance. Of all the moments since I'd gained the system, this one felt the most real.
I wanted to stay in this world… a little longer.
Just because of her.
My hands drifted below her waistline. I lost myself, grabbing her rear—pressing her closer. I felt her tense slightly as our bodies brushed together.
How is her ass this large?
I squeezed, almost losing myself in the sensation.
I could feel my pants tightening—rising—rubbing against her crotch.
"Aoyama, what are you—" she stammered.
I blinked, pulling back. "What?"
She stared at me, confused by the blank look on my face.
"I-it's nothing. Your mind was a mess again," she said, trying to compose herself. "Like I said, I must be getting old. My quirk might be playing tricks on me."
Sayuri turned away, ignoring the faint heat rising in her body.
"Ahem," she coughed. "I'd better get started on the miso soup."
She refilled her cup with more sake.
"I think I've washed enough dishes, so I'll be in the living room."
"Mmm, yes. Go rest. I'll have the food out in ten minutes," Sayuri replied, forcing a smile as I left, her hand waving me off.