The night was thick and heavy, swallowing sound and light. The only movement came from the leaves whispering in a cold breeze, the moonlight sifting softly through the branches overhead.
Kael crouched just beyond the edge of the woods behind his aunt's bakery, his breath misting in the chill air. His small hands trembled slightly, fingers twitching as if eager and reluctant all at once.
He wasn't at U.A.
He wasn't a hero-in-training yet.
He was just a twelve-year-old boy with a secret so heavy it pressed down on his chest like a weight.
A power that could take.
A power that could give.
A power that could change everything.
A Quiet Place to Practice
Kael had searched for a place hidden enough—no cameras, no neighbors, no one to ask questions he wasn't ready to answer.
The woods were perfect.
Moonlight glinted off fallen branches and scattered stones. The ground was soft beneath him, leaves crunching faintly as he shifted.
He carried three simple objects: a dry branch broken from an old tree, a small, rough rock, and a cracked hand mirror discarded near the alley.
Each was a test.
First Attempt: The Branch
He settled down on the damp earth, fingertips brushing the brittle wood.
Imagine it as glass. He closed his eyes, trying to summon the essence of Ren's Quirk—the smooth hardness, the cold fragility.
His fingers began to glow faintly, a shimmer barely visible in the darkness.
He reached out.
The branch twinkled softly, the bark transforming—becoming translucent, smooth, sharp-edged.
It was beautiful, like a shard of frozen light.
Kael's heart fluttered.
His breath caught.
But his fingers gripped tighter than he intended.
The glass-branch cracked sharply, splintering in his hands.
Pain flared in his palm—not from the glass, but the shock of failure.
He gasped, eyes snapping open.
The night seemed to close in tighter.
Second Attempt: The Rock
He pulled the small rock closer, rough and unyielding.
He forced himself to breathe slowly, steady his racing heartbeat.
This time, be gentle. Be precise.
His hands shimmered again, glowing brighter.
He focused on the rock, imagining its surface softening, bending to his will.
For a moment, the stone looked as if it might yield—tiny fissures tracing its surface like spiderweb cracks.
Kael's eyes widened.
But his concentration wavered.
The rock fractured with a harsh snap, crumbling pieces falling away.
The sound echoed in the silent woods.
His shoulders slumped.
Final Attempt: The Mirror
Kael shifted his gaze to the cracked mirror.
Its fractured surface was a jagged map of broken reflections.
He traced a finger along one shard.
Can I fix this?
He inhaled deeply, sinking into a quiet place inside himself.
The faint glow returned to his hands, stronger now, pulsing like a heartbeat.
One shard lifted gently from the glass, hovering in the air.
Then another.
And another.
The fragments spun slowly, weaving through the air.
For a brief, shining moment, the mirror seemed to knit itself whole again—smooth, clear, flawless.
Kael's breath hitched.
But as the glow faded, the shards dropped back down with soft clatters, scattering across the dirt once more.
The Weight of Failure
Kael sat back, exhausted.
His palms stung where the power had surged and slipped.
He closed his eyes, the cold night air filling his lungs.
The pain wasn't just physical.
It was the weight of responsibility. The fear of losing control.
The silent terror of what this power could do—if it slipped from his grasp.
But beneath it all, something stronger stirred.
A spark.
A fragile glimmer of hope.
A Promise in the Dark
Kael's voice was barely audible, a whisper lost among the trees.
"I will learn."
"I will control it."
He curled his fingers into fists, knuckles white in the moonlight.
He was still just a boy.
But he carried something dangerous. Something powerful.
And he would master it.
He had to.
Because someday, the world might depend on it.