The hum of the train tracks faded as I stepped off at my home station, the adrenaline of the entrance exam finally wearing off. I was sore, sure—but not from fighting. From holding back. Still, I'd done what I set out to do: stay out of the spotlight while proving I was more than capable. No flashy finish, no dramatic monologue. Just clean results.
I reached home right around sunset. The sky above our small suburban house was streaked with orange and purple, the air thick with the smell of grilled fish and soy broth.
"I'm home!" I called out as I slid the door open and stepped into the genkan, pulling off my shoes.
From the kitchen, I heard my mom's voice. "Welcome back, Daichi! Go wash up, dinner's almost ready!"
"Coming!" I replied.
As I passed by the living room, I noticed Dad already relaxing in his favorite spot on the couch, feet up, one hand cradling a mug of coffee. Static buzzed gently from his fingers as he adjusted the settings on the TV with his quirk. Subtle manipulation of frequency and signal—that was his thing.
"Tough day?" he asked with a grin as I flopped onto the floor nearby.
"Not really. Took down some bots, avoided the drama, kept my head down."
He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't vaporize the whole battlefield with a sonic quake, then?"
I snorted. "Tempting. But no."
"You're learning restraint," he said proudly, then gave me a sly look. "Did you save any cute girls?"
"Dad," I groaned, covering my face.
He just chuckled. "You've got the looks, the brains, and the quirk. I'm just saying, don't be afraid to use the whole package."
Before I could answer, Mom emerged from the kitchen, apron still on, carrying a tray of grilled mackerel, miso soup, rice, and pickled vegetables. "Don't tease him, Tatsuya," she said with a light swat to Dad's shoulder. "He's had a long day."
"It's fine, Mom," I said, smiling. "He's right anyway—I did end up helping someone out during the test."
Mom's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Oh? A girl?"
I sighed. "Her name's Jiro. She seemed cool."
She gave me a knowing nod. "Well, I hope you made a good impression. I'm sure you did."
As we sat down around the low table to eat, I couldn't help but appreciate the warmth in the room. The simple clinking of chopsticks, the gentle flicker of the kotatsu heater, and the low buzz of Dad's quirk all gave the room a peaceful rhythm. This was what I'd missed in my last life. A real home. Real parents.
"So, what do you think your chances are?" Dad asked between bites of fish.
I shrugged. "Good, I guess? I didn't go for the flashy finish like some of the other kids, but I definitely scored well. I even took down one of the zero-pointers."
Both of their heads snapped up.
"You what?" Mom said.
"Yeah," I replied casually. "Targeted the central processor with a directed frequency. Shut it down cleanly."
Dad leaned back, whistling. "That's our boy."
Mom beamed. "I'm so proud of you, Daichi."
I smiled down at my rice. "Thanks. But I'm still keeping things low-key at U.A. I don't want to stand out too much."
"Smart," Dad said. "But be careful not to let that hold you back."
"I know."
Dinner continued with laughter, light teasing, and a comfortable silence now and then. After cleaning up, I headed to the roof like I always did after big days. The stars were faint, but visible above the city glow. I sat down cross-legged, letting the cool breeze flow through my hair.
My clones appeared beside me—three of them. I didn't summon them for training or reconnaissance tonight. Just for company.
They sat in silence with me, mirroring my mood. It was weird, how they could reflect my thoughts without speaking. Echoes of myself—quiet, calm, grounded.
"We did alright today," I whispered.
The clones nodded silently.
I leaned back, hands behind my head, eyes on the stars.
I wasn't sure what U.A. had in store for me. But for now? This moment—this peace with my family, with myself—was enough.
And if I had to make some noise in the future?