The school day moved at its usual pace, but for Shin, time felt slower than ever.
That small slip of paper sat folded in his pocket like a ticking time bomb.
"I know, Shin."
Shiro had been watching him for a long time. Always quiet, always observant, never missing a detail. And now, he was making his move.
So when lunchtime came, and Shiro subtly gestured for Shin to follow him to the farthest corner of the rooftop, away from the usual crowd, Shin knew he had no choice.
---
The wind was strong at this height, ruffling their uniforms as the two boys stood near the edge, just far enough from any prying ears.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then, Shiro finally broke the silence.
"How long have you been hiding it?"
Shin's expression didn't change. His posture remained relaxed, his hands tucked into his pockets. But inside, his mind was racing.
No accusations. No wild theories. Just a simple question.
He chose his words carefully. "Hiding what?"
Shiro's sharp gray eyes studied him, unwavering.
"You know exactly what." He took a step closer. "The forest. That wasn't luck. That wasn't coincidence. That was you."
Shin exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting to the sky for a brief second before locking back onto Shiro's.
"And what makes you think that?" he asked evenly.
Shiro didn't blink. "You were the only one who wasn't afraid."
Silence stretched between them.
Shin didn't flinch, didn't deny it outright. Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "That's a pretty big assumption."
Shiro's lips curled into a near-smirk. "Is it?" He took another step forward. "You're always just a little too fast. Your reactions—too sharp. You never panic. And in the forest… you moved first. No hesitation. Like someone who already knew how to fight."
Shin's fingers twitched in his pocket. His heartbeat remained steady, but he could feel the tension tightening around them.
Shiro doesn't guess. He calculates.
He'd known this was a possibility—that someone sharp enough might put the pieces together.
Still, he wasn't going to admit it so easily.
"Maybe I just have good instincts," Shin replied coolly.
Shiro chuckled—low, knowing. "Sure. Instincts. And I'm supposed to believe that a random middle schooler has 'instincts' strong enough to go head-to-head with a full-grown villain? That you just happened to be in the right place, at the right time, and knew exactly what to do?"
Shin met his gaze, unreadable. "People get lucky."
Shiro exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Not you."
Another silence. This one heavier.
The wind whistled around them, the distant sounds of students laughing and chatting filling the background. But up here, in this private space, it was just them—two minds locked in a quiet battle of wills.
Shiro's voice softened, but his words carried weight. "I don't know how strong you are." He crossed his arms. "But I know this—you're not normal. And you don't want people to know."
Shin's jaw tightened slightly.
Shiro noticed.
He tilted his head. "I also know you didn't go all out against that villain."
Shin narrowed his eyes. "…What makes you so sure?"
Shiro smirked slightly. "Because if you had, there wouldn't have been anything left of him."
That was the first time someone had ever said something like that to Shin.
It caught him off guard—not in words, but in the way it was said. There was no fear in Shiro's voice. No accusation. Just… certainty.
Like he knew.
Shin exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "And if I was the one who stopped him?"
Shiro shrugged. "Then I'd say… you're a damn good liar."
Silence again.
Then, Shiro turned to lean against the railing, looking up at the sky. "Don't worry." His voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful. "I'm not gonna tell anyone."
Shin studied him carefully. "Why not?"
Shiro smirked. "Because I want to see how far you'll go."
******
The Karasuma household came into view—a modest two-story home nestled in a peaceful suburb of Musutafu, not far from where many off-duty heroes lived. Security drones buzzed lazily overhead, and a small billboard across the street flashed updates from the Hero News Network.
"Pro Hero: Kamui Woods successfully captures villain in Yokohama. More at 6!"
"Still no clue about the young vigilante who took down a villain near Musutafu Middle—Who is this mysterious child?"
Shin paused in front of the gate, staring at the billboard for a long second.
Even in this world… people are always watching. Always waiting for the next 'symbol.'
He stepped inside the gate and closed it behind him, his shoes crunching lightly on the stone path leading to the front door.
The soft hum of a hovering delivery drone passed overhead, and a nearby neighbor with a scaly mutation-type quirk waved politely.
"Evenin', Shin!"
"Evening, Mr. Tokuda," Shin replied with a faint smile.
Despite the calm atmosphere, his thoughts kept spinning.
In this world—where the line between ordinary and extraordinary was so thin—you had to be careful. Powerful kids were sent to elite schools, watched by the Hero Commission, sometimes even scouted in secret. The media devoured stories of young talent. And if anyone ever suspected that he was more than he let on…
I could lose everything before I even get the chance to become something.
---
He stepped into the house.
"Welcome back, Shin!" his mom called from the kitchen, apron on and her lightning-themed quirk crackling softly around her hands as she cooked. She could manipulate electricity naturally—she used it for everything from cooking to lighting candles to charging phones.
His father gave a warm nod from the living room, casually lifting the heavy coffee table with one hand to vacuum underneath it. A strength-enhancing quirk—simple, but effective. Shin had inherited both.
"Back on time. Good." His dad grinned. "I thought you'd stay late again with your friends."
Shin smiled. "Nah, I needed some air."
He dropped his bag by the door and headed upstairs.
---
His room was quiet, clean, and simple. A shelf lined with notebooks. Training gear tucked in one corner. Posters of famous pro heroes—Endeavor, Mirko, Best Jeanist—were strategically placed on the wall. And on his desk, his current training notebook lay open.
He sat on the bed and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Shiro knows. Or he's damn close.
It was a lot to process. In his past life, he'd dreamed of having powers like this—of being dropped into a fantasy world with strength and lightning at his fingertips. And now that he had it?
He had to pretend to be average. To smile like he wasn't carrying enough voltage in his body to fry a car.
But Shiro saw through it.
And strangely… Shin didn't feel angry or afraid. He felt seen. Like, for the first time since waking up in this world, someone understood the weight he carried.
Still, I have to be careful. The Hero Commission doesn't play around. If they think I'm acting outside the law… I could be 'recruited' before I'm ready. Or worse.
He let out a long breath.
Four more years until U.A. Until I can really step into the light.
But until then…
He'd train.
He'd grow stronger.
And he'd watch Shiro—just as closely as Shiro watched him.