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If you're enjoying this fic so far, I would be glad if ya'll can review this book and drop your thoughts in the comment section!! Arigatou🙏🏼❣
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"Eh? What did you just say? Mei is dead?"
"Yes mom. We talked for a while on the phone yesterday before I went to bed and yet…yet, today I got a call saying she's dead."
"I'm so sorry, sweetie. I mean, I know it's hard for you to fully digest this sudden news but you have to be a strong kid and move on."Â
"I understand you Mom. But…but what I'm I supposed to do? Do you think I can still be a hero for Mei?"
"Sure, sweetie. I know you will be the world greatest hero and with that, Mei is going to be happy to see you make it and then, she can rest in peace to know you kept your promise."
"For real?"
"Yes, sweetie. So cheer up and don't let it get into you too much unless you're gonna be traumatized."
"Sure mom. Thanks for the advice."
"So clean up your tears and go have you bath while I prepare dinner."
"Alright mom."Â
Yuta wiped off his tears and made his way upstairs to his bedroom. He leaned to the wall as he reminisced about the olden days with Mei.
After a while, he went inside the bathroom and took his time to get his body cleaned. He came outside and wore his pajamas and went downstairs for his dinner.
"There's your food, sweetie."
"Itadakimasu." Yuta said as he dug into his meal and ate his fill.Â
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Sure mom. You're the best." He immediately exited the dining room and went back to his bedroom to train before going to bed.
He closed his eyes and stretched out his right hand as sand aroused mid-air while he shapeshifted the sand into different types of objects for a few minutes and slumber off.
The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows over the small park where Yuta sat alone. His fingers sifted through the sand beneath him, the grains slipping away like water through a sieve.
Yesterday had changed everything. His best friend—his confidant—was gone. Taken by an accident so sudden, it felt like the world had been ripped from under his feet. She had been the only one who believed in him when others feared his quirk.
"Your sand isn't just a weapon, Yuta," she'd once said, her smile as bright as the summer sun. "It's art. You just need to learn how to sculpt it."
Now, that voice was silenced, and Yuta felt the crushing weight of her absence. But he wasn't about to let her down. If she had believed in him, then he had to believe in himself.
After school, Yuta retreated to an open field on the outskirts of town. It was a quiet place, far from prying eyes, where he could practice without fear of hurting anyone. His quirk, allowed him to manipulate sand, but control had always been his weakness.
Yuta took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He envisioned the sand swirling around him, forming into shapes with precision and grace. Slowly, he raised his hand, and the sand at his feet began to rise, swirling into a spiraling column.
"Stay steady," he murmured to himself.
The column wavered, then collapsed into a heap. Yuta groaned, frustration bubbling to the surface.
He crouched down, grabbing a handful of sand. "If I can't control this, what good am I?"
The words hung in the air, heavy with doubt. But then, he remembered her voice, her unshakable faith in him.
"You're not a quitter," he whispered, clenching his fists.
He tried again, this time focusing on smaller shapes. The sand responded, forming into a solid cube, then a sphere. It was perfect, but it was progress.
Yuta's evenings were spent at Isshin Dojo, a place of discipline and tradition. It was his choice which had encouraged him to join months ago, as it would teach him focus and control.
The dojo was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy. Its wooden floors were polished to a shine, and the air was filled with the faint scent of incense. Isshin-sensei, the master of the dojo, was a stern man with a calm demeanor that demanded respect.
"Late again, Yuta," Isshin-sensei said as Yuta slipped through the doors.
"Sorry, Sensei," Yuta mumbled, bowing low.
The older man studied him for a moment, then gestured toward the training mat. "You've been distracted lately. If you're here, I expect your full attention."
Yuta nodded, stepping onto the mat.
The evening's lesson focused on sparring techniques. Yuta paired up with a taller boy named Daichi, who smirked as they squared off.
"Ready to lose again?" Daichi taunted.
Yuta ignored the jab, his focus sharpening. The two began circling each other, and when Daichi lunged, Yuta moved with surprising agility, deflecting the strike.
"Better," Isshin-sensei said from the sidelines. "But don't just react. Anticipate."
Yuta nodded, adjusting his stance. This time, when Daichi attacked, Yuta stepped in close, using the momentum to sweep the taller boy off his feet.
The match ended with Daichi on the floor, grumbling under his breath.
"Good," Isshin-sensei said. "But you're still holding back."
Yuta frowned. He knew what the sensei meant. He had never used his quirk during sparring. It felt unfair—and dangerous.
The next evening, Yuta stayed behind after class.
"I want to try using my quirk," he told Isshin-sensei.
The older man raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Very well. Start small."
Yuta stepped onto the mat, his heart pounding. He released a small stream of sand from the pouch he always carried, letting it swirl around him.
"Good. Now, use it to enhance your defense," Isshin-sensei instructed.
When Isshin-sensei struck with a wooden staff, Yuta's sand moved instinctively, forming a barrier. The force of the strike sent vibrations through the sand, but it held firm.
"Now, offense."
Yuta hesitated, then directed the sand forward in a whip-like motion. It struck the staff with a loud crack, causing Isshin-sensei to nod in approval.
"You're starting to understand," he said. "Your quirk isn't separate from your martial arts. It's an extension of them."
Weeks passed, and Yuta's progress was undeniable. He began integrating his quirk into his training, creating sand shields, weapons, and even diversions during sparring matches with Isshin after everyone has dismissed themselves.
But every night, when the dojo emptied, Yuta stayed behind, pushing himself harder. He practiced until his muscles ached and his control over the sand grew sharper.
One evening, as he stood alone on the mat, he shaped the sand into a delicate sculpture.
"I'm going to make you proud," he whispered.
The sand held its shape for a moment before collapsing, but Yuta didn't mind. He knew he was getting stronger—not just for himself, but for her.
Yuta's journey was far from over. He still had moments of doubt, times when the weight of his loss threatened to overwhelm him. But every grain of sand he shaped was a reminder of his promise.
He wasn't just a boy with a quirk anymore. He was a martial artist, a fighter, and a friend determined to honor her memory.
And as he stood in the fading light of the dojo, the sand swirling around him like a living thing, Yuta knew he was ready for whatever came next.
Yuta exited the dojo when he noticed the day was getting dark and made his way home as he thought about the moment he had first joined the dojo and noticed how far he has improved not only with his quirk but as a fighter.
He got home late, seeing his mom in the living room drinking black coffee when she turned her gaze towards him.
"Welcome home, sweetie."
"I'm back home, mom."
"How was your martial art training today? And how do you feel graduating tomorrow?"
"It was fabulous, mom. I did some sparring with Isshin after the other kids went home and he allowed me to use my quirk."
"Really? That's great. So?"
"I'm glad I will be graduating tomorrow but I'll miss Isshin and the other kids thou."
"Figure that out. Anyways, go take your bath and come eat your dinner."
"Sure."
Yuta did as he was ordered by his mom and have is dinner. He went back to his room as he started thinking of a better speech he was to represent as he graduates.
"Is there any need for a speech?" He murmured to himself when he couldn't think of anything to say.
What a disturbanceÂ
He stayed awake for a while thinking of what to say when he finally made up his mind after jotting down his speech on a piece of paper. "Tomorrow is gonna be a long day." He hissed as he laid on his bed to get himself prepared for tomorrow..