It had been a week since Kael Ishiro's encounter with Ryken—the vengeance-driven villain who nearly ended Kael's vigilante path before it truly began. The shadows that had once cloaked his escape now lingered in his memory like a bruise. He'd fled through the dark alleys of the city, using his Quirks in tandem until he finally emerged behind the familiar scent of vanilla and sugar—his aunt's bakery. It was his sanctuary, a place where the past and future collided.
Aunt Nari didn't ask many questions when he stumbled in, ragged and bruised. She just pulled him into a quiet hug and told him to shower while she warmed up leftover curry. That's how she always was—understanding in her silence, sharp in her judgment, and warm in her support.
Kael sat now at a steel bench inside the hidden basement below the bakery—a secret training room fortified with reinforced polymer walls and an old, battle-worn floor. It had been built years ago by Nari herself. Before retiring, she was once known in the underground hero community as "ForgeHeart," a legendary support hero renowned for crafting the most reliable and high-performance gear for Japan's elite Pro Heroes.
Even after she stepped back from public life to lead a quiet one in the bakery, she kept her skills sharp. Her network still reached into corners of the world few could access. Any tech Kael had—whether tactical gloves to regulate output Quirks or a prototype shadow-enhancer she was cooking up—came directly from her forge.
"So… how're you holding up?" Nari asked, setting down a tray of cooling onigiri next to Kael as he adjusted his training gloves.
Kael exhaled slowly. "Better. Still thinking about Ryken, though. That fight…" He paused. "It reminded me that even if I'm strong now, someone out there is always stronger—or smarter."
Nari didn't speak immediately. Instead, she stirred her tea thoughtfully, then looked at him over the rim of her cup. "The moment you think you've got nothing left to learn is the moment you start to lose. Taking a few hits doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're still alive. And you've got a chance to get better."
He nodded, the words sinking deep. "Thanks, Auntie."
"I mean it," she said, turning to the console nearby and tapping a few buttons. "Now, I've run diagnostics on your last fight based on your glove sensors. There's a pattern in your movement—when you shift from attack to evasion, you hesitate. That's where Ryken capitalized. We're going to fix that."
Kael grinned. "Alright. Let's fix it."
The following hours were brutal. Nari activated the room's programmable drone system. Blinding flashes, quick-fire projectiles, and humanoid simulations sprang to life with varying Quirk imitations. Kael moved like a shadow—dodging, striking, disappearing into the corners of the room with strategic use of his Quirk arsenal.
Among them was Flashstep, a Quirk he'd taken from a back-alley criminal months ago. It let him move instantaneously in short bursts. Paired with Darkbind, his primary Quirk, it made him devastating in close-quarters combat. But the Flashstep came at a cost—it burned through stamina quickly and left his muscles aching after prolonged use. He only used it in bursts now, integrating it with Darkbind's tendrils for quick pressure strikes.
As he trained, he cycled through several of his stored Quirks, but he stuck mainly to Darkbind. It was enough for him now. His movements flowed, sharp and decisive, each motion purposeful. He was no longer the boy lashing out uncontrollably. He was a weapon—refined, focused, and controlled.
From the observation room above, Aunt Nari watched with pride. She wasn't a hero in the traditional sense anymore, but this? Supporting Kael, shaping him into the protector he aspired to be—that was enough.
Later that night, Kael stood alone on a rooftop overlooking the neon-lit sprawl of the city. His hood was up, the black of his outfit blending into the night.
He'd become something different in these past months. Not a Pro Hero. Not a villain. Something in-between.
A vigilante.
Criminals whispered about a shadow in the dark. A figure who stole Quirks from abusers and vanished before authorities arrived. The rumors spread fast—and so did the fear.
Kael stared down at a small metallic cube in his palm—an extraction capsule designed by Nari to safely store newly acquired Quirks for a limited time. Inside it pulsed a Quirk he'd just taken from a thug who used sonic bursts to mug civilians.
"I don't enjoy taking these God granted gifts," Kael muttered to himself. "But if you use your gift to hurt people… you don't deserve it."
His eyes rose toward the skyline, where the U.A. High School tower glowed in the distance.
Soon, he thought. Soon I'll be there. I'll walk the hero path—not just for me. For Yumi. For everyone I've taken from. For everyone I couldn't save.
Back at the bakery, Nari sat at her workbench, adjusting a gauntlet prototype designed to handle raw energy discharge. She glanced at the photo tucked into the edge of her mirror—one of Kael when he was ten, grinning with flour on his face.
"You've grown up so fast," she whispered. "I just hope the world is ready for what you're becoming."
…