Rain pattered softly on the roof.
Keiko curled up in his mother's lap, his small hands trembling as he buried his face against her kimono. His eyes — red like fire — were swollen with tears.
"They called me the devil again..." he whispered.
"They said monsters like me shouldn't be alive..."
His mother gently stroked his hair, her touch tender and patient.
"You are not a devil, Keiko," she said softly.
"You are my son. The boy who helped me plant beans in spring. The boy who sings to the chickens when he thinks no one's listening."
He sniffled.
"Then why do they hate me...?"
She didn't offer false comfort. Just silence — and the warmth of her arms.
"Because people fear what they don't understand," she murmured at last.
"And fear can turn good hearts into cruel mouths."
She kissed the top of his head.
"But I see you. I know who you are. You are kind, and strong, and good."
"And one day... they'll see it too."
Keiko clutched her sleeve tighter.
Outside, the rain washed away the dirt.
Inside, her words would stay with him for the rest of his life.
⸻
PRESENT — Old Clan Grounds, Early Morning
Years had passed.
The village had been swallowed by time.
The crops, the laughter, the warmth — all gone.
Only the land remained. Quiet. Overgrown.
Keiko stood in the ruins of his childhood home. Older now.
Taller. Stronger. But still carrying that little boy inside him.
The ground beneath his feet was where everything ended.
And where something unnatural began.
⸻
FLASHBACK — Night of the Fire
A scream tore through the silence.
Then came the fire.
Orange light poured through the windows like molten sun.
The walls crackled. The air turned thick and hot.
His father threw open the door, eyes wide.
"Run!"
His mother grabbed Keiko's wrist.
"Stay behind me!"
The house groaned — its wooden bones aching.
A wall of heat slammed into them.
Then — a crash.
The ceiling collapsed in a storm of fire and splinters, devouring everything in its path.
Heat. Smoke. Darkness.
Pain.
Then — nothing.
⸻
FLASHBACK — MORNING AFTER
Keiko gasped awake, coughing up ash.
He was buried — pinned beneath what had once been their roof. Splintered beams. Cracked tiles. Smoke still curling from blackened wood.
His body should've been broken. His skin, scorched. But when he looked down...
His wounds were closing.
He pushed free of the wreckage with trembling arms — hands blistered, skin flaking like scorched paper.
Then he saw them.
His father's body lay half-crushed beneath a collapsed beam, one arm stretched toward the door — as if still reaching for escape. The flesh was burned deep, skin split and raw, bone visible at the wrist.
His mother...
She was closer.
Curled as if still shielding something. But the flames had taken her. Her kimono was fused to her skin, and where her face had once been soft and warm — it was now blackened, sunken, and unrecognizable save for the silver pin still buried in her melted hair.
Keiko's breath hitched—then the sobs came. With all the strength left in his small body... he cried.
The healing in his own body continued — a grotesque contrast to the stillness of death.
His skin knitted. Their skin would never move again.
A fly landed on his mother's cheekbone.
He didn't brush it away.
He knelt there — a child surrounded by silence, ash, and the smell of burning fat.
And in that moment, Keiko stopped being a boy.
⸻
PRESENT — Ruins
Keiko knelt in what had once been the family room.
The floor was now dirt and moss, but he still remembered where the table stood.
Where his mother once hummed softly.
Where his father laughed over bowls of rice.
Where it ended.
Where he began again.
He rose slowly, gaze drifting across the ruined remnants of his childhood.
He stepped carefully over broken beams and moss-covered stones, the silence pressing down like the ashes once had.
His fingers brushed through the overgrowth — when something cool and metallic caught beneath them.
He knelt again, pulling aside a patch of wild grass.
There, half-buried in the dirt, was a small, twisted object. Blackened. Fragile. But unmistakable.
His mother's hairpin.
Delicate and silver, shaped like a blooming camellia — it used to catch the morning sun when she leaned over to stir rice.
It once shimmered in her hair when she bent to wipe his tears.
One petal had melted. The stem was warped.
But he knew it.
He remembered it.
His hand trembled as he lifted it gently, brushing the soot away.
It felt impossibly small in his grown hand. A fragile echo of someone who once made the world feel safe.
All that was left of her... and it had survived.
Just like him.
"I was a little boy..." he whispered, voice cracking. "There was nothing I could do."
The wind answered with a hush, as if the land itself remembered.
He pressed the hairpin to his heart and closed his eyes, letting the ache settle into something quieter.
Something rooted.
Then he opened his eyes and looked at the land once more — burned, overgrown... healing.
"I'm alive," he murmured.
"I don't know how... or why... but I'm alive."
If you could see me now...
If you could see what I've done. Who I've become...
"I think — I hope... you'd be proud."
He tucked the hairpin gently into his coat.
Then he turned toward the trees.
The ashes behind him.
The road ahead.
And for the first time in years, Keiko took a step forward.
⸻
PRESENT — NIGHT — MUSUTAFU, ROOFTOP
Keiko stood silently on the edge of the rooftop, the city's neon glow reflecting faintly off his Akaito suit. The cool night breeze tugged at his coat as he stared out across the sleeping streets.
Behind him, heavy footsteps echoed on the metal floor.
"All Might," Keiko said without turning.
The hero stepped beside him in his muscular form, broad silhouette outlined against the skyline.
"You don't exactly hide well," All Might said with a warm smile.
Keiko didn't move.
"He broke his finger."
All Might tilted his head.
"Yes. During the ball toss test Aizawa gave. Using One For All at full power, he shattered his finger trying to reach his goal. No hesitation. Pure determination."
Keiko's gaze narrowed.
"That kind of resolve... it's rare."
All Might's smile faded slightly.
"I saw what you did to Endeavor," he said, more quietly now. "You made quite an impression. It seems the legends about you... the stories in the history books... they weren't exaggerations."
Keiko's shoulders tensed.
"I only subdued him. And I made sure the effects weren't permanent," he said evenly.
All Might nodded after a pause.
"I've been looking for you. The winds of change are stirring. Japan could use a symbol — one forged in fire, not fame."
Keiko turned to face him fully, the city's light outlining the mask's sharp edges.
"I've been... doing something personal," he said, quieter now.
All Might studied him, eyes softening.
"Closure?"
A faint nod.
"Then when you're ready," All Might said, stepping back into the shadows, "I'll be waiting."
Keiko turned back to the skyline, watching the flickering world below.
"Tell the boy," he murmured, "to stop breaking his fingers. He'll need them."
All Might chuckled softly as he vanished into the night.
Keiko remained still — a sentinel in red and black.
A myth returned to a world that had forgotten him.
And somewhere deep within,
the boy who rose from fire finally stood tall.