The night air carried a chill that seeped through his costume, but Kazuki Takeda barely noticed. From his vantage point atop the old clock tower in downtown Musutafu, he surveyed the city with eyes that had seen too much for someone only twenty-three years old. His black and white hair fluttered in the breeze, the white streaks gleaming under the moonlight—a permanent reminder of that day when he was seven.
"Sector 4 clear," he reported into his communicator, his voice resonant and deep—a voice that had become synonymous with safety throughout Japan. "Moving to check the harbor district."
"Copy that, Titanic," came the dispatcher's voice. "All quiet elsewhere. Keep your eyes open."
Kazuki—or Titanic, the Tremor Hero, as the public knew him—nodded to himself. His hero costume was designed for both functionality and presence: a midnight blue bodysuit with silver reinforcement plates that caught the light when he moved, creating the illusion of rippling waves. Across his broad shoulders fell a short white cape, torn and weathered at the edges yet immaculately maintained—a tribute to his fallen family. The silver emblem on his chest depicted a stylized fist striking the ground, sending ripples outward.
As he leapt from the tower to the adjacent building, using the slightest tremor beneath his feet to propel himself forward, he couldn't help but smile as the cool night air rushed past his face. For a brief moment, he felt weightless. Free.
It was in these rare moments, between the responsibilities and the pain, that Kazuki felt most alive.
"Remember to smile, Kazu-kun! A hero's smile is the most powerful weapon to reassure people!"
His mother's voice echoed in his memory, bringing both warmth and a pang of grief. Sixteen years had passed, yet her words remained his north star. Even when his body screamed in agony, even when fatigue threatened to overwhelm him—he smiled. Not for himself, but for those who needed hope.
Landing with practiced precision on a warehouse roof, Kazuki took a moment to scan the harbor. The industrial district was quiet at this hour, with only a few late-night workers and security guards making their rounds. Most people had no idea how much effort went into keeping these peaceful nights... peaceful.
He checked his watch: 2:17 AM. Four hours into his patrol, and five more to go. His joints already ached, a dull throbbing that had become his constant companion. The doctor's words from his last check-up echoed ominously in his mind:
"Your cellular degradation is accelerating, Takeda-san. I estimate you have perhaps ten years left if you continue using your Quirk at this frequency. Maybe less."
Kazuki pushed the thought away. What good would dwelling on it do? He had chosen this path with eyes wide open, knowing the cost.
His communicator buzzed.
"Titanic, we've got reports of suspicious activity near the old train yard in District 7. Might be nothing, but worth checking out."
"I'll be there in minutes," he replied, his voice carrying the calm assurance that had earned him the moniker "The Symbol of Salvation." With a single, powerful leap enhanced by a precisely controlled seismic pulse, he soared across the cityscape, a streak of midnight blue and silver against the dark sky.
As he moved through the night, his thoughts drifted back to the beginning—to when little Kazuki Takeda first discovered the terrible gift he carried within him.
Twenty years ago
"Happy birthday, Kazu-kun!"
Four-year-old Kazuki beamed as his mother placed a modest cake before him, four candles flickering cheerfully. His father ruffled his black hair affectionately while his six-year-old sister, Mika, bounced impatiently beside him.
"Make a wish, slowpoke!" she insisted, her pigtails bobbing with each movement.
Their small apartment was humble but filled with warmth and laughter. Kazuki's father, Hiroshi Takeda, worked as a construction foreman, his Quirk—Minor Density Manipulation—perfect for the job. His mother, Sachiko, was a kindergarten teacher whose Healing Touch Quirk allowed her to ease minor pains and injuries—ideal for tending to scraped knees and bumped heads.
Neither had particularly powerful Quirks, but both used them to help others in their own ways. That was the Takeda family motto: "Even small lights shine in the darkness."
Kazuki closed his eyes tight and wished with all his might: I want a cool Quirk so I can help people like Mom and Dad!
He took a deep breath and blew out his candles.
"What did you wish for?" Mika asked immediately.
"He can't tell you or it won't come true," their mother chided gently.
Kazuki just grinned, the gap where he'd lost his first tooth visible. "It's a secret!"
None of them knew then how that innocent wish would transform their lives.
It happened three days later. Kazuki was playing in the backyard, trying to catch grasshoppers with Mika, when a sudden, stabbing pain shot through his entire body. He collapsed, screaming in agony as it felt like every cell in his body was being torn apart and reassembled.
The ground beneath him cracked. Flower pots shattered. The old oak tree split down the middle.
And through it all, Kazuki screamed until his voice gave out.
His parents rushed him to the hospital, terrified by the seizure-like symptoms and the inexplicable damage to their yard. The doctors were baffled—his body temperature spiked to dangerous levels, his heartbeat became erratic, and strange seismic activities were detected whenever he lost consciousness.
For two weeks, Kazuki drifted in and out of awareness, each waking moment filled with pain that no child should ever endure. His mother stayed by his side constantly, using her Healing Touch to provide what little relief she could, often working herself to exhaustion.
On the fifteenth day, Kazuki's fever broke. When he opened his eyes, a streak of his black hair had turned permanently white—a visible reminder of the ordeal his body had endured.
The doctors could only conclude that this was his Quirk manifesting, though none had ever seen such a violent awakening. Kazuki was referred to a Quirk specialist, Dr. Yamashiro, a stern man with thick glasses who subjected him to countless tests.
"Fascinating," Dr. Yamashiro murmured one day, reviewing readings from a specialized machine connected to Kazuki. "The boy is generating micro-seismic waves constantly. Even at rest, his cells are vibrating at a molecular level, creating kinetic energy."
"What does that mean?" Hiroshi asked, holding his son's small hand. "Is his Quirk dangerous?"
Dr. Yamashiro's expression grew grave. "Mr. Takeda, your son possesses what I would classify as an Omega-level vibrational Quirk. He can create and control seismic energy at will, potentially with devastating consequences. But there's more." He lowered his voice. "The energy he generates... it's consuming him from within. Every major use of his Quirk will accelerate cellular degradation."
Sachiko gasped, clutching Kazuki closer. "You're saying using his Quirk will hurt him?"
"I'm saying," Dr. Yamashiro replied solemnly, "that using his Quirk will eventually kill him. The more powerful the application, the greater the toll."
Kazuki, though young, understood enough to be scared. "I don't want this Quirk anymore," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. "Can you take it away?"
Dr. Yamashiro knelt beside him, his stern demeanor softening. "I'm afraid not, young man. But we can teach you to control it, to minimize the damage to your body."
And so began years of training and therapy—learning to contain the constant vibrations, to channel the energy in controlled bursts, to endure the pain that came with each use of his power. Kazuki's childhood became a series of exercises, tests, and limitations.
Yet through it all, his smile never dimmed.
"It hurts less when I smile," he told his worried mother one day. "And it makes you worry less too."
Three years later
At seven years old, Kazuki had learned to manage his Quirk reasonably well. He attended a special program at school for children with potentially dangerous abilities, making few friends but excelling in his studies. Mika had become fiercely protective of her younger brother, ready to confront anyone who whispered about his strange white streak or his occasional trembling episodes.
It was during this time that he first met Nana Shimura.
The encounter happened at Musutafu Central Park, where Kazuki was practicing his control exercises under his father's supervision. He sat cross-legged on the grass, eyes closed, focusing on containing the constant vibrations to just his hands.
"That's a neat trick!" a cheerful voice interrupted his concentration.
Kazuki opened his eyes to see a girl about his age, maybe a year older, with short dark hair and bright, curious eyes. She wore a simple dress with a yellow cardigan and watched him with undisguised interest.
"It's not a trick," he replied cautiously. "It's my Quirk. I have to practice or bad things happen."
Instead of backing away like most children did, the girl plopped down beside him. "What kind of bad things? Does it explode? Or make earthquakes? That would be so cool!"
Despite himself, Kazuki smiled at her enthusiasm. "Kind of like earthquakes, but smaller. Who are you?"
"I'm Nana! Nana Shimura," she declared proudly. "I'm going to be a hero someday. The best hero ever!"
"I'm Kazuki Takeda," he replied, finding himself drawn to her infectious confidence. "I... I don't know what I'll be."
Nana titled her head. "Well, what do you want to be?"
The question caught him off guard. With all the limitations placed on him because of his Quirk, Kazuki had stopped thinking about what he wanted. "I guess... I want to help people. But my Quirk hurts me when I use it too much."
Nana's eyes widened. "That's tough," she said, showing surprising maturity. Then her face brightened. "But you know what? The best heroes always have to overcome something! That's what makes them heroes!"
It was such a simple statement, delivered with such conviction, that Kazuki couldn't help but believe her. In that moment, something shifted inside him—a seed of determination taking root.
"Kazuki, time to go home," his father called from nearby.
"Coming, Dad!" He stood up, brushing grass from his pants. "It was nice meeting you, Nana."
"We should be friends," she declared, as if it were already decided. "I come here every Saturday with my mom. You should come too!"
And just like that, an important friendship began. Every Saturday, weather permitting, they would meet at the park. Nana would tell Kazuki about her hero aspirations, and he would show her the small, harmless applications of his Quirk he'd mastered—making pebbles dance or creating tiny, localized tremors that tickled when you stood on them.
For the first time since his Quirk manifested, Kazuki had a friend who didn't treat him like he was made of glass—someone who saw possibility where others saw danger.
Neither child could have imagined how their paths would intertwine, or the tragedy that loomed just months away.
The sky had wept that day—a torrential downpour that matched the mood of a city in shock.
Kazuki would forever remember it as "Black Wednesday," the day when a coordinated villain attack struck five locations simultaneously across Musutafu. Schools, shopping centers, government buildings—all targeted with precision and ruthless efficiency.
Kazuki's father had been working at a construction site near one of the attacks. His mother and sister had been shopping for Mika's upcoming birthday. All three were in the wrong places at the worst possible time.
Kazuki had been at a medical appointment with Dr. Yamashiro when the news broke. The specialist's office went into lockdown, trapping them inside as reports flooded in of casualties and destruction.
"My family," Kazuki kept repeating, his small body shaking with fear rather than seismic energy for once. "Please, I need to find my family."
Hours passed before they received confirmation—the department store where Sachiko and Mika had been shopping had collapsed entirely. The construction site was engulfed in flames. There were no survivors at either location.
In a single afternoon, seven-year-old Kazuki Takeda lost everything.
The following days passed in a blur of grief and confusion. He was placed temporarily with his elderly grandmother, who was too frail to care for a child with such a volatile Quirk long-term. Social services became involved, discussing foster options, specialized facilities—cold, institutional solutions for a child who needed warmth more than ever.
It was at the memorial service, standing before three photographs—his father's confident smile, his mother's gentle eyes, Mika's mischievous grin—that Kazuki made a silent vow. His tiny hands clenched into fists, causing the ground beneath him to tremble slightly.
I will become strong enough to protect everyone. No one else will lose their family if I can help it.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder. He looked up to see Nana, dressed in black, her usually bright eyes dimmed with sadness for her friend.
"I'm so sorry, Kazu-kun," she whispered.
Without a word, he turned and buried his face against her shoulder, finally allowing himself to cry—deep, wrenching sobs that shook his small frame. Nana held him steady, a rock in the storm of his grief.
"It's okay to be sad," she told him softly. "But remember what you told me about your Quirk? How it's strongest when you focus on what you want to protect? You have so many people to protect now, Kazuki. And I'll help you. We'll become heroes together."
In that moment, through tears and pain, the path of his life crystallized with absolute clarity.
Later, as investigations proceeded, evidence emerged suggesting the attacks had been orchestrated by a shadowy villain whose name was only whispered—All For One. The revelation came years later, when Kazuki was old enough to access the classified reports, but it only hardened his resolve.
He would become a hero not for glory or recognition, but because the alternative—standing by while others suffered as he had—was unthinkable.
The memories faded as Kazuki approached the train yard, bringing him back to the present. He'd been lost in thought for too long—a dangerous habit for a pro hero on patrol.
The old rail yard was largely abandoned, used occasionally for storage and as a transfer point for specialized cargo. At this hour, it should have been deserted.
Kazuki landed silently on the roof of an old station building, crouching low to survey the area. His instincts—honed through years of training and experience—immediately signaled trouble. Three figures moved between the rusty train cars, their movements too deliberate, too cautious to be innocent late-night workers.
He activated the thermal vision in his visor, confirming his suspicions. The figures were armed—the distinctive heat signatures of support weapons unmistakable.
"Dispatch, this is Titanic. Confirming suspicious activity at the train yard. Three armed individuals, possibly more inside the storage buildings. Requesting backup but proceeding with reconnaissance."
"Copy that, Titanic. Dauntless and Icepike are nearest, ETA eight minutes. Proceed with caution."
Kazuki moved to a better vantage point, staying in the shadows. His heart rate remained steady, his breathing controlled—the product of years of discipline. Despite the tension of the situation, a familiar smile played at his lips. Not a smile of joy, but one of determination—a promise to those he protected.
I'm here. You'll be safe.
As he prepared to descend for a closer look, a sudden, blinding light flooded the yard. Alarm systems wailed, and the armed figures scattered in panic.
"Perimeter breach detected! Security protocol activated!" an automated voice announced over loudspeakers.
Whatever these villains had planned, they'd triggered a security system they hadn't anticipated. In their confusion, they began firing wildly at the security drones that deployed from hidden compartments.
Kazuki's smile faded. Stray bullets in an industrial area could lead to disaster—ruptured gas lines, damaged electrical systems, civilian casualties if the fight spilled beyond the yard.
Decision time.
"Dispatch, situation escalating. I'm engaging."
Without waiting for a response, Titanic leapt from his perch, his body already beginning to glow with the controlled power he channeled. As he descended toward the chaos below, he allowed himself one brief thought of Nana—of her unwavering belief in what a hero should be.
Watch me, Nana. I won't let anyone down.
The familiar pain began radiating through his cells as he activated his Quirk, but Kazuki embraced it. Pain meant he was still fighting. Pain meant he could still protect.
The ground trembled beneath his landing, a controlled shockwave that knocked the nearest armed figure off balance. Kazuki's voice rang out, deep and confident, echoing through the train yard with an authority that made even the villains pause momentarily:
"Citizens of Musutafu rest assured, for I have arrived!"
His imposing figure stood tall, silver armor catching the emergency lights, white cape billowing dramatically behind him. As the villains turned their weapons toward him, Kazuki's reassuring smile returned—warm and brilliant against the darkness.
"Titanic!" one of the villains gasped, recognition and fear mixing in his voice.
Kazuki stepped forward, the ground quaking slightly with each footfall—a controlled display of power meant to intimidate. With hands that trembled not from fear but from the constant strain of containing his power, he extended his arms in an inviting gesture.
"Now then, shall we discuss why you're disturbing this beautiful place? Or would you prefer a more... seismic demonstration?"
Whatever came next, he would face it as he faced everything in life:
With trembling hands but an unshakable heart.