Kai stood at the edge of the school courtyard, hands stuffed into his pockets as he scanned the buzzing crowd of his classmates. At 14, he'd shot up in height, his once scrawny frame now lean and wiry. His bright blue eyes still had that spark of mischief, and his streaked black hair fell in a way that looked effortlessly cool—though he'd never admit how much time he spent making it look that way.
Four years had passed since he'd first started taking his quirk seriously. Back then, controlling it was a struggle, like trying to keep a wild animal on a leash. Now? He could practically call it second nature.
Kai grinned to himself as he leaned against the wall, thinking about all the crazy progress he'd made. Stockpile wasn't just about absorbing energy anymore—it was about using it smartly. He'd figured out that pulling energy wasn't some random tug-of-war. It worked best when he focused on the type of energy he wanted. Need a powerful punch? He'd think about the kinetic force from running or jumping. Need heat? He'd imagine the scorching sun on his skin.
The game-changer, though, was figuring out how to mix things. He'd started experimenting with blending energy types—like stacking kinetic energy with heat to create explosive punches or using heat and light together to create blinding bursts. It felt less like a quirk and more like a cheat code sometimes.
The bell rang for lunch, pulling him out of his thoughts. He grabbed his bento box and headed to his favorite spot under the big oak tree at the edge of campus. As he sat down, he couldn't help but chuckle, thinking about how much he'd changed since those early training days. Back then, he could barely store enough energy to knock over a plank. Now? He could blow a door off its hinges without breaking a sweat.
"Yo, Kai!" a voice called out, breaking his train of thought. One of his classmates jogged over, grinning. "You coming to soccer after school?"
"Nah," Kai said, waving him off. "Got some training to do."
"Man, you're always training. What are you trying to be, a superhero or something?"
Kai smirked. "Something like that."
He leaned back against the tree, popping a piece of sushi into his mouth. He didn't like to brag, but deep down, he knew his quirk wasn't just strong—it was something else. Unlimited energy storage? The ability to absorb and redirect attacks? The possibilities were endless, and he wasn't even close to figuring it all out.
With high school just around the corner, the thought of stepping onto a bigger stage gave him a thrill. Real challenges, real heroes, maybe even real danger—it was all waiting for him.
Kai stood up, brushed the crumbs off his uniform, and headed back to class, his mind buzzing with plans for the next training session. "No limits," he muttered to himself. "I'm just getting started."
Kai leaned back in his chair as the teacher droned on about history, his mind a million miles away. He wasn't trying to be rude, but how was he supposed to focus on ancient treaties when his quirk was practically begging to be tested?
He tapped his pen on the desk, suppressing a grin. Stockpile wasn't just strong—it was downright ridiculous. He'd spent the last few years turning it from a decent power into something almost unfair. The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how far he'd come.
At first, the quirk was all about holding energy—basic stuff like kinetic or heat. It had limits back then, like how much he could store or how long it lasted. Now? Those limits were history. He could hold as much energy as he wanted for as long as he needed. And he wasn't just storing energy anymore—he was customizing it.
Take kinetic energy, for example. He could absorb the impact of a hundred punches and release it in one devastating blow. Or he could channel just a tiny bit, like a concentrated jab, to knock someone off balance without breaking their arm.
Heat was another fun one. A sunny day wasn't just for lounging anymore—it was fuel. He could soak in the heat from the air, store it, and then release it as a scorching blast. Need to melt through steel? Done. Want to warm up the room? Easy.
The best part? Mixing energies. That had been a breakthrough. Heat and kinetic could create explosive punches. Light and heat could blind enemies while searing them. Heck, he'd even figured out how to use stored sound energy, releasing it in deafening waves that left people clutching their ears.
And it wasn't just about offense. Defensive tricks were where things got wild. One time, during a sparring match, he'd absorbed the shockwave of an explosion, using it to fuel a counterattack. Another time, he stored the pressure of falling water and unleashed it as a blast that knocked his opponent off their feet.
The real secret, though, was focus. It wasn't about yanking energy out of nowhere—it was about thinking about the type of energy. He'd learned that imagining the energy he needed made it ten times easier to pull it out. If he wanted heat, he thought about fire. If he needed kinetic force, he pictured a running start.
It wasn't just practical—it was fun. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that his power had no ceiling, no brakes. As long as he kept pushing, kept thinking creatively, Stockpile could keep growing.
He smirked, leaning his chin on his hand as he doodled in the margin of his notebook. The thought hit him: "At this point, I might as well rename it to Godmode."
The kid sitting next to him noticed his grin. "What's so funny?"
Kai waved him off. "Nothing, just thinking."
The truth was, he couldn't stop thinking about what he'd do next. Stockpile wasn't just a quirk—it was a toolbox, and every day he was discovering new tools inside it.
He glanced at the clock. Only fifteen minutes left until the bell. That was just enough time to come up with something crazy to try during training later.
—---------------
Kai stood in the corner of the dojo, his sweat-drenched shirt clinging to his back as he caught his breath. The air was thick with the scent of mat foam and exertion, and the rhythmic smack of fists hitting pads echoed throughout the room.
"Again!" his instructor barked, clapping his hands sharply.
Kai groaned but grinned, stepping forward. His muscles burned, but this was exactly what he wanted—no, needed. He'd spent so long perfecting his quirk that one day it hit him: What if someone like Eraserhead came along? A simple stare from someone with a nullification quirk, and suddenly all that energy would be useless. That idea didn't sit well with him.
And so, three years ago, he'd started learning martial arts. At first, he'd thought it would be a boring backup plan. Just punches and kicks, right? He couldn't have been more wrong.
Kai shifted his stance, eyes locked on the instructor holding the padded mitts. His hands moved with practiced precision, each jab snapping forward, a sharp crack sounding every time he connected. After a flurry of strikes, he pivoted, sweeping his leg around in a high roundhouse kick that made his opponent stumble back slightly.
The instructor smirked. "Not bad. A little more power in that kick next time, and you'll make someone see stars."
Kai rolled his shoulders, shaking out his arms. "Yeah, yeah. I'm just letting you think you're tougher than me, old man."
The instructor chuckled. "Sure, kid. Now get back to work."
It wasn't just about fighting, though. The discipline had taught him to move efficiently, to be aware of his surroundings, and—most importantly—to stay calm. If someone managed to neutralize his quirk, they wouldn't be fighting a sitting duck. They'd be fighting a well-trained fighter who could hold his own.
After practice, Kai sat on the edge of the mat, sipping water and staring at the rows of trophies lining the walls. He wasn't looking to win medals or become some grandmaster. This wasn't about glory—it was about survival. He thought back to a sparring match earlier in the week when the instructor had thrown him into a mock scenario where he couldn't use his quirk.
The guy had rushed him, towering and heavy, with brute force behind every move. But Kai had kept his cool, ducking and weaving, using precise strikes to wear him down. It was messy, and he'd walked away with a nasty bruise on his ribs, but he'd won. That match had been a turning point.
On the ride home, Sugihara glanced at Kai through the rearview mirror. "You seem quieter than usual, young master. Tough day at training?"
Kai leaned his head against the window, watching the streetlights blur as they passed. "Not tough. Just... thinking."
"About what?"
Kai shrugged. "How far I've come, I guess. It's crazy to think about. A few years ago, all I cared about was throwing big punches with my quirk. Now I'm here, realizing I have to fight like my life depends on it—because someday, it might."
Sugihara's tone softened. "It's wise to prepare for every possibility. But don't lose sight of why you're doing it, Kai."
Kai looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"You're not training because you expect to fail, are you? You're doing it so you can keep pushing forward, no matter what happens."
Kai nodded slowly, letting the words sink in. Sugihara always had a way of keeping him grounded.
Back home, after dinner, Kai headed to the backyard for one last practice session before bed. The stars overhead cast a faint glow as he moved through the forms he'd been taught, his body fluid and precise.
He imagined a fight scenario: someone with a quirk like Eraserhead's had taken his powers. They lunged at him. What would he do?
He stepped to the side, dodging the invisible opponent, then delivered a sharp elbow strike. He pivoted, imagining another attacker, and countered with a sweeping kick. His movements were instinctive, his years of practice shining through.
By the time he finished, sweat poured down his face, and his muscles ached in the best way possible.
He might have started this path as a precaution, but now? It was part of who he was. Quirk or no quirk, Kai wouldn't go down without a fight.
Kai sauntered into the dining room after his martial arts session, still in his workout gear, a towel draped over his shoulder. His parents were seated at the large table, his mother sipping tea while scrolling through her tablet, and his father reviewing what looked like a mountain of business documents.
"Ah, the prodigal son returns," his dad teased without looking up. "How many villains did you take down today,?"
"None yet," Kai said, grabbing a piece of fruit from the table and plopping down in a chair. "But if paperwork ever becomes a crime, you'll be the first villain I take down."
His dad chuckled. "Touche. And if eating all the snacks is a felony, you're already on the Most Wanted list."
His mom glanced up with a smirk. "Speaking of felonies, I saw the state of your room earlier. You might not need villains to fight—you're already waging war against laundry."
Kai raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I get it. You're both hilarious. Did you practice this routine, or are you just naturally this good?"
His mom chuckled, but her tone softened. "We only tease because we're proud of you, Kai. You've been working so hard, and it shows."
Kai felt his face warm at the compliment. "Thanks, Mom. But seriously, you're still not allowed to see my room. It's classified."
"Classified as a disaster zone," his dad quipped, and Kai groaned. His father had recently started to get out of strictly business man persona and into a witty and fun dad.
Later, Kai headed out to meet his friends at the park. The air was crisp, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. His friend Riku was already there, kicking a soccer ball around, while Haru leaned against a tree, fiddling with his phone.
"Took you long enough," Riku called, passing the ball to Kai as soon as he approached.
Kai trapped the ball under his foot, grinning. "Some of us have lives, you know. Training, family responsibilities, single-handedly saving the world—it's a lot to balance."
"Yeah, yeah," Riku said, rolling his eyes. "Let's see if all that training makes you any better at soccer."
They started an impromptu game, the three of them weaving around each other and kicking the ball back and forth. Kai wasn't the most skilled player, but he made up for it with speed and agility, darting past Riku and laughing as he scored an easy goal.
"Cheater!" Riku accused, though he was grinning.
"Hey, it's not my fault I'm a natural," Kai said, winking.
Haru finally joined in, his usual quiet demeanor replaced with surprising competitiveness. For the next hour, the three of them played until their legs were sore and their laughter echoed through the park.
As they collapsed on the grass, catching their breath, Riku turned to Kai. "So, are you still training every day, or do you ever, like, relax?"
Kai shrugged, looking up at the sky. "Training's just part of life now. It's fun, though. Feels good to push myself, you know?"
Haru chimed in. "You're gonna be some big-shot hero one day, aren't you?"
Kai chuckled. "Maybe. But first, I gotta figure out how to beat you guys at soccer without getting called a cheater."
The three of them laughed, the easy camaraderie reminding Kai of why moments like this were just as important as training. No quirk, no pressure, no big plans—just friends and a game.
As the laughter faded and the three of them lay sprawled on the grass, Kai felt a strange tug in his chest. It wasn't the usual buzz of excitement or satisfaction after a game; it was something deeper, a faint ache that seemed to creep out of nowhere.
He stared up at the sky, the deepening blue speckled with the first stars of the evening. Haru and Riku were still joking about something—probably Riku's inability to defend a goal—but their voices felt distant, like background noise.
And then, out of nowhere, it hit him.
A memory from his old life.
He was sitting on a worn-out couch, an old video game console hooked up to a tiny TV. His best friend from back then—what was his name? Hiro? Yeah, Hiro—was sitting beside him, button-mashing furiously as they competed in some ridiculous fighting game. They'd played for hours, pausing only to raid the kitchen for snacks, their laughter echoing through the small, cluttered living room.
Kai remembered the way they'd tease each other, how Hiro would always accuse him of cheating whenever he won. "There's no way you pulled that move off! You're hacking, I swear!" Hiro would shout, throwing a pillow at him. And Kai, grinning ear to ear, would fire back, "Get good, scrub. It's called skill."
The memory was so vivid it made his chest tighten. Hiro had been his best friend, the one person who always had his back. But that was a different life, a life he'd left behind.
He glanced over at Riku and Haru, who were now arguing about the best way to make instant noodles. The banter was so familiar, so comfortable, that it stirred something bittersweet inside him.
"Hey," Haru said, snapping Kai out of his thoughts. "You okay? You've been staring at the sky like you're waiting for aliens or something."
Kai forced a grin, sitting up. "Yeah, I'm good. Just thinking about... stuff."
Riku smirked. "Deep thoughts from Kai? Now that's a first."
Kai rolled his eyes but didn't bite back with his usual snark. Instead, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You guys ever feel like... I don't know, like you've been here before? Like moments like this aren't new, just... replaying?"
Haru frowned, tilting his head. "What, like déjà vu?"
"Something like that," Kai said, scratching the back of his neck. He didn't know how to explain it without sounding insane.
Riku threw a hand over his face dramatically. "Wow, Kai's getting philosophical. I'm scared. Is this what happens when you lose too many soccer games?"
Kai chuckled, shoving him lightly. "Shut up, you idiot."
But even as the conversation shifted back to their usual playful ribbing, the memory of Hiro lingered. It was a reminder of the life he'd once had, the friends he'd left behind. And as much as he loved his new life and the people in it, there was a part of him that couldn't help but wonder: If Hiro could see him now, would he be proud?
Kai stood up, brushing the grass off his pants. "Alright, I gotta head home before my mom sends a search party."
"Yeah, wouldn't want the paparazzi showing up," Riku teased.
As they said their goodbyes and Kai began the walk home, his thoughts were a mix of past and present. He didn't regret where he was now, but moments like this reminded him of how much he'd grown—and how much he still carried with him.