Winter's chill seeped into Musutafu, frosting the windows of Kaito Arakawa's apartment and numbing his fingertips as he huddled on his mattress. At five years old, the world felt colder than the season, each day a reminder of his quirkless status, a label that clung like ice to his bones. The bruise on his cheek from the Hero Day assembly had faded to a dull yellow, but the memory of Riku's shockwave and the crowd's laughter burned fresh, a wound no bandage could cover. Kaito's All Might t-shirt, now patched with uneven stitches, lay hidden under a threadbare sweater, his dreams of heroism tucked away like a secret he was ashamed to admit.
Morning brought no warmth. Reiko was in the kitchen, her voice bright as she spoke on the phone, arranging Hana's next quirk training session. "She's already controlling flame arcs," she boasted, oblivious to Kaito slipping past to grab a slice of stale bread. Hana, eight now, was at the table, sketching fire patterns in a notebook, her auburn hair glowing under the light. She didn't look up as Kaito sat across from her, his bread crumbling in his hands. Reiko hung up and turned to Hana, her smile a rare sunbeam. "You're going to impress them at the showcase, sweetheart. Keep practicing."
Kaito's chest tightened, his bread untouched. He wanted to ask about school, to tell Reiko about Riku, but her eyes slid over him like he was air. "Kaito, don't dawdle," she said, her tone sharp. "You're late for school, and I don't need another call from your teacher." She didn't mention the Hero Day incident, didn't ask about the bandage he'd worn home. Hana's notebook snapped shut, and she left for her room, leaving Kaito alone with the weight of her silence.
The walk to Musutafu Elementary was a gauntlet of hero worship. Billboards flashed All Might's latest victory, a street performer juggled fireballs for coins, and a newsstand displayed Shockpulse—Daichi, Kaito's father—on a magazine cover, his shockwave quirk hailed as "Musutafu's Shield." Kaito's steps slowed, his amber eyes tracing his father's grin, a face he hadn't seen in months. Daichi was always on patrol, always chasing glory, leaving Kaito to wonder if he even remembered his son existed.
At school, the classroom buzzed with a new project: a quirk-based art display for the winter festival. Ms. Tanaka explained, her telekinesis quirk floating markers to each desk. "Use your quirks to create something unique," she said, her glasses glinting. "Show the school what makes you special." Her eyes skipped Kaito, as if his lack of a quirk erased him from the task. The other kids dove in, their quirks transforming blank canvases—a girl painted with light beams, a boy sculpted clay with stretching fingers. Kaito stared at his canvas, a blank square mocking his emptiness.
Riku, seated nearby, leaned over, his spiky black hair casting a shadow. "What's quirkless gonna make? A picture of nothing?" His gang—Kenji with his stone skin, Sora with his mimicry—snickered, and Kaito's jaw clenched. He grabbed a marker, sketching a crude All Might, his fist raised, but his hands shook, the lines uneven. He wasn't an artist, but it was something, a piece of his dream inked on canvas.
The period dragged, and Kaito's sketch grew—a city skyline, All Might standing tall, a faceless figure at his side, maybe Kaito himself, if he dared imagine it. He worked in silence, ignoring Riku's taunts, until Ms. Tanaka called for a break. The kids left their canvases to stretch, but Kaito stayed, adding details, his marker squeaking. He didn't see Riku slip behind him, didn't hear the hum of his shockwave quirk until it was too late.
A pulse of force hit Kaito's canvas, splitting it down the middle with a sickening crack. The halves fell, All Might's face torn, the faceless figure shredded. Kaito froze, his marker dropping, as Riku laughed, loud and cruel. "Oops," he said, not bothering to hide his smirk. "Guess quirkless art's as useless as you are." Kenji kicked the pieces, scattering them, while Sora mimicked Kaito's gasp, twisting it into a pathetic whimper.
The class turned, some kids giggling, others whispering. A girl with vine-like hair muttered, "Why's he even trying?" and Kaito's face burned, his hands trembling with a rage he didn't know how to unleash. He wanted to hit Riku, to scream, but his body wouldn't move, pinned by the weight of every eye in the room.
Ms. Tanaka returned, her quirk sweeping the broken canvas into a pile. "Arakawa, clean this up," she said, her voice flat. "Riku, back to your seat." No punishment, no questions, just the same tired dismissal. Kaito knelt, gathering the pieces, his fingers smudging All Might's torn grin. The bell rang, and the class filed out, leaving him alone with the wreckage of his effort.
Lunch was worse. Kaito sat by the fence, his sandwich uneaten, the cold biting his bruised ribs. The courtyard buzzed with kids practicing for the festival, their quirks painting the air—fireworks, floating sculptures, a boy turning snow to glass. Kaito watched, his heart a knot of want and shame. He pulled out his slingshot, the one he'd built from scraps, and fired a pebble at a tree, missing by inches. The failure stung, but he tried again, each shot a silent vow to be more than quirkless.
After school, Kaito trudged home, the city's hero worship a relentless drumbeat. A TV in a shop window showed Hana's showcase rehearsal, her flames dancing in perfect arcs, Reiko clapping in the stands. Kaito's steps faltered, his throat tight, but he kept walking, his slingshot heavy in his pocket.
At the apartment, Reiko was waiting, her arms crossed, a letter from the school in her hand. "Another incident," she said, her voice ice. "Your teacher says you broke a canvas. Do you know how this looks? Hana's out there making us proud, and you're causing trouble."
Kaito's ribs ached, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't break it. Riku did. I was just—"
"Enough," Reiko cut him off, her eyes flashing. "I don't want excuses. You're embarrassing this family. Stay out of sight until you can stop being a problem." She turned away, her attention shifting to Hana, who'd just walked in, her training uniform singed but her smile radiant.
Kaito retreated to his corner, his slingshot clutched like a lifeline. He pulled out his shoebox of scraps—a bent nail, a coil of wire, a broken watch gear—and started tinkering, his hands steadier than his heart. He didn't know what he was making, not yet, but each twist of wire felt like a rebellion, a way to carve his name into a world that refused to see him. His tablet flickered on, its battery clinging to life, and All Might's voice filled the air, saving a city with a single punch. "Keep smiling, young hero!"
Kaito's eyes stung, but he didn't cry. He fired his slingshot at the wall, the pebble hitting closer this time, a small victory in a sea of defeats. "I'll be a hero," he whispered, his voice a blade sharpened by pain. "I'll make them all see." The city's hum answered with its endless drone, and Kaito worked into the night, building from shards, unaware of the threads fate was spinning—a spider, a girl, a future that would demand everything he had.
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A/N: Go check out my other MHA stories!
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Chapters ahead: 4