Calvas stirred, blinking against the soft light filtering into the room. His body felt heavy at first, the fog of sleep still clouding his mind. For a moment, he didn't recognize where he was—his eyes darted around, taking in the unfamiliar ceiling and the strange smell of disinfectant in the air. It wasn't until he tried to sit up that a flash of memory hit him.
'What… what happened?'
Then, all at once, it came rushing back. The alley, Swiftstep, the chase, the way his legs had given out right at the end. And then darkness. The events of that day were rushing back to him in vivid detail.
Calvas exhaled, lying back against the pillow as he processed it. But something felt off. Despite the chaos from the night before, he felt oddly rested—too rested. His muscles weren't sore, his body didn't ache like it should after being tackled and tossed around by a hero.
'What the hell? I should feel like crap right now.' He flexed his hands, expecting to feel the sting of bruises or some kind of lingering pain, but there was nothing, as if the fight had never happened.
That's when he noticed something else—a figure, seated casually in the corner of the room. The man was dressed in a dark jacket and jeans, his posture relaxed, like he had all the time in the world. But Calvas didn't need the hero costume to recognize him.
'That's definitely Glide,' light brown hair fell just past his ears, slightly unkempt, giving him a rugged, weathered look that matched the stubble on his jaw. His piercing light amber eyes locked onto Calvas. Glide didn't move, but there was a sharpness in his eyes, like he was quietly assessing every move Calvas made.
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
'How long has he been sitting there?'
Calvas sat up slowly.
"Were you watching me as I slept?" he asked, his tone flat, almost accusing.
Glide didn't react, at least not the way Calvas expected him to. Instead of answering, the man cocked his head slightly, his lips curving into a small, amused smirk. His voice, when he spoke, was casual and completely ignored the question.
"You hungry?" Glide asked, his Japanese accent slipping into the words.
Calvas blinked. "What?"
Glide raised an eyebrow, his expression nonchalant. "I said, are you hungry? Yes… no… maybe?"
Calvas stared at him, not sure how to respond. The man's tone was so casual, like they weren't sitting in some strange room after a chase through the city. After a moment, Calvas just nodded.
"Good," Glide said, nodding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then, without another word, he stood up and headed for the door, his footsteps light and unhurried.
Calvas watched him go, utterly confused.
Before Calvas could process the bizarre interaction, Glide popped his head back into the room, his brow furrowed like he was confused about something.
"You coming or not?"
Calvas hesitated. He didn't know what was happening, didn't know why Glide was suddenly being so… casual. He didn't trust this situation, not one bit. But then again, sitting around waiting didn't seem like the best option either.
"Uh… should I follow you?" Calvas asked, half-expecting some kind of trick.
Glide shrugged. "Well, you could wait around and eat the crap they give you here." He paused, glancing back in the room like the idea of hospital food physically pained him. "What's it called… that… nutrient paste stuff. Yeah, real gourmet."
Calvas made a face, the thought of eating whatever hospital food was here not exactly appealing. With a sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, his body still feeling surprisingly normal despite everything.
"I don't even know your name," Calvas muttered as he moved toward the door.
Glide shot him a grin, his tone light. "Osamu Natsuhara. There, that's my name. Now come on, stop slowing us down. I'm hungry."
Calvas followed, still making sense of the situation. Glide—or Osamu, as he'd introduced himself—seemed easygoing, almost too relaxed, but there was something in the way he moved, the way he carried himself, that made him stay on edge.
'What am I getting myself into?' he thought as they left the room.
****
The clink of silverware and the low hum of conversation filled the surrounding air. Calvas sat across from Osamu, holding the menu, but his eyes weren't really focused on it. The restaurant was cozy and simple—not the kind of place he imagined being in after everything that had happened the night before. Wooden tables, the scent of grilled meat in the air, and a soft glow from the hanging lights.
But none of that was his problem.
His fingers fumbled with the menu, the words blurring together, incomprehensible lines of Japanese that might as well have been ancient hieroglyphics. He couldn't make sense of any of it. After a few more frustrating seconds, he sighed and dropped the menu onto the table, glancing up at Osamu.
"I can't read it."
Osamu, who had been leisurely flipping through his own menu, raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You can't read?"
Calvas's eyes narrowed. 'Of course I can read, not this.'
"I can't read Japanese," he clarified.
There was a brief pause as Osamu processed that, and then a slow, lazy grin spread across his face. He set his menu down and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if this were the most amusing thing in the world.
"Strange how that is, huh? A foreigner in Japan—can't speak the language, can't read it." His tone was almost teasing.
"I have amnesia," Calvas said finally, his voice flat.
Osamu chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, amnesia. Right." He didn't seem convinced, but there was a playful edge to his voice, as if this was all some big joke to him.
"Guess I'm ordering for you, then."
Calvas leaned back in his chair, still watching Osamu, trying to figure him out. He didn't trust him—couldn't trust him. Not yet.
Osamu caught his stare, smirking as he lazily glanced over the menu again. "Anyway, let's focus on the important stuff. You like meat, right?"
Calvas gave him a blank look. "Meat's fine."
Osamu nodded approvingly. "Good. I'll get you something that won't give you food poisoning. You're safe with me." He waved his hand dismissively, like it was the least of Calvas's worries.
There was a stretch of silence between them, the sounds of the restaurant filling the gap. After a moment, Calvas couldn't help but blurt out the question that had been gnawing at him.
"Why are you doing this?"
Osamu didn't even glance up from the menu. "Doing what?"
"This," Calvas said, gesturing to the restaurant, to the food, to the entire absurd situation. "Bringing me here. Acting all casual after last night. Your sidekick chased me down, and now we're… having lunch?"
Osamu finally looked up, meeting Calvas's eyes. For the first time, the playful glint in his eyes dimmed a little, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful. He was quiet for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully.
"Look, kid. You got caught." He said it plainly, without judgment, as if stating a fact. "But you didn't do anything wrong. I mean, sure, you ran from the agency while they were asking some questions. Caused a bit of a mess, and," he smirked slightly, "you even used your quirk to assault a hero on duty. Which, you know, technically means you broke the law."
Calvas stiffened, his eyes narrowing. Assault? 'I didn't assault anyone—I was just trying to get away.'
Osamu leaned back in his chair, waving a hand dismissively. "But who doesn't break the law at some point? People speed every day in their cars, cross the street when they shouldn't. Who cares? Quirk laws? Come on, everyone breaks those at least once in their life. I know I did." He grinned, his tone light. "We all do."
Osamu continued, shrugging. "It's like you said—you're just a scared little kid with amnesia, right? Who doesn't know any better."
Calvas blinked, his frustration flaring. 'I never said I was a scared little kid,' he thought, biting his tongue.
Osamu leaned forward slightly, his expression more serious now. "That doesn't mean we have to act like enemies. You're in a tough spot, I get it. But what happens next? That's your call." He paused, his eyes watching Calvas carefully. "You're what—fifteen? A minor? No family? No one looking out for you?"
Calvas didn't answer. He didn't need to. The silence was enough.
"You know what happens to kids like that?" Osamu continued. "You get picked up, thrown into the system. You sit around in some foster home, maybe get bounced between places if you're lucky. Not exactly a great life. Especially for someone with no ID, no records, nothing."
The thought of being thrown into the system, shuffled between people who didn't care—it made his skin crawl. 'I'd rather be on the streets.'
Osamu leaned back, crossing his arms, shaking his head in what almost looked like genuine disappointment. "It's a shame, really," he muttered. "You managed to outsmart both me and Swiftstep. Tricked us into thinking you passed out from exhaustion, only to slip away when we were taking you to the hospital. Smooth move, right? Just when we thought we had you under control… you were gone."
'Wait… what?' He glanced up, watching Osamu closely. The man wasn't looking at him directly anymore, just speaking as if recounting a casual story—he was definitely talking about him.
"Crazy thing," Osamu continued, his voice softer now. "No one saw it coming. Not the agency, not even the heroes. Slipped right through our fingers."
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Quill's Notes:
Hey everyone! Thanks for sticking around. I had a lot of fun writing this one, and trust me, things are only going to get more interesting from here. 😊