_Current timeline_
Takeshi was sitting in the garden, waiting patiently for his father, when he spotted him walking toward him with a small bag.
"Hey, Takeshi! Look what I brought for you," Haruto said, a mysterious smile on his face.
Takeshi's nose twitched. Even from a distance, he could smell it. "Dad! I smelled it from far away! You brought my favorite onigiri from Takumi-san's shop!"
Haruto chuckled, anticipating his son's reaction. He scooped Takeshi up and placed him on his shoulders. "Let's go home and let your mom distribute the onigiri."
Takeshi had been trying to remember something he wanted to tell his father, but the thought had slipped away in the excitement. Then, as soon as he heard his father's words, his eyes lit up with sudden realization.
As they walked through the alley, an familiar old man appeared with a friendly smile. "Hey, little boy, is this your dad?" he asked.
Before Takeshi could respond, Haruto stepped forward, frowning. "Who are you, mister? What do you want with my son?"
Takeshi looked at his father's stern expression and quickly intervened. "Dad, I know this old man we met in the garden when you were away. He wants to train me to become a hero."
The old man's eyes widened in surprise. "Yes! I have a dojo down this alley. You're welcome to visit anytime."
Haruto, skeptical and cautious, followed Yami down the alley. But suddenly, two men blocked their path.
"Boss… why did you bring that man here? He's the one who killed the wild bear in the forest a few months ago," said a thin man with a mole on his face, voice trembling with worry.
"No need to worry," the other man, scarred across his face, replied confidently. "I think the boss can handle him easily."
Both men activated their quirks simultaneously. The man with the mole extended rope-like strands from his arms, wrapping around Takeshi and binding him tightly.
"Let him go!" Takeshi struggled, but the ropes were like steel, restraining him completely.
Seeing his son in danger, Haruto's quirk flared. With a roar, he swung his hammer, but Yami suddenly countered with a metallic punch, his arm seamlessly hardens into a dense steel. The force sent Haruto staggering backward.
The scarred man activated his quirk, his legs transforming into powerful, spring-like limbs. He shot forward like a bullet, kicking Haruto in the chest. Haruto slammed into the wall, blood spilling from his mouth.
Takeshi's heart pounded. "Why… why are you doing this? We've never done anything to you!" he shouted, tears streaming down his face.
The mole-faced man sneered and slapped him across the face. "Shut up, kid! We're going to sell you to the Yakuza. There's an organization that needs children for experiments, and you'll be their special child. You'll make us rich."
Rage ignited in Takeshi's chest, but he hesitated when he heard his father's strained voice: "Leave my son alone! You can take me instead—I will not resist!"
Yami interjected, his voice firm. "You should leave the child here. If you go now, we'll let you walk away."
Haruto lunged forward, swinging his hammer, but Yami dodged with a swift movement, using the impact to hurl him into the wall again. Haruto collapsed, blood trickling from his mouth.
Takeshi's eyes burned with fury. His quirk flared violently, surging through his small body. With a deafening roar, he snapped the ropes binding him, breaking them like brittle twigs.
He launched himself at the mole-faced man, punching him squarely in the stomach. CRACK! The force shattered ribs, and the man doubled over in pain. Without hesitation, Takeshi spun and kicked the scarred man squarely in the back, snapping joints and sending him crashing to the ground.
Yami, realizing the situation was turning against him, transformed his body into solid metal, preparing for defense.
Takeshi, fueled by adrenaline and fury, didn't hesitate. He slammed a powerful punch directly into Yami's face. With a metallic CLANG!, Yami was sent flying backward, unconscious.
Haruto tried to rise, his body trembling. He coughed violently, blood staining his lips. His mind blurred from pain, and with one final, desperate surge of his quirk, he attempted to stabilize himself—but exhaustion overtook him, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.
Takeshi knelt beside his father, his small chest heaving from the adrenaline and exertion. The raw power coursing through him wasn't just physical—it was overwhelming. Every punch he had thrown, every bone-crushing kick, had drawn from the deepest reserves of his quirk.
His muscles burned like fire, yet that was nothing compared to the mental strain. In that brief, violent fight, his senses had been pushed to their limits—
The sheer magnitude of his own strength pressed down on him like an invisible weight. Each heartbeat seemed to echo in his skull, each nerve screaming with overexertion. Takeshi felt the edges of his vision blur, the world spinning around him as though reality itself couldn't keep up.
Finally, the pressure became too much. His arms slipped to the ground, heavy as iron, and his entire body went rigid for a moment before collapsing. The ropes of mental fatigue and physical exhaustion coiled tightly around his consciousness, pulling him down into darkness.
With a soft thud, Takeshi fell forward, arms spread wide, unconscious. Even in sleep, his body trembled slightly, residual energy sparking faintly like embers from a fire that refused to die.
End of chapter