Sukuna sighed as he sat on the steps, having just stepped out of an old folks home. His father, a doctor, had been called to the old folks home to perform a check up on them, and having nothing to do he followed him.
He felt like his world had just expanded in the few hours that he had been there, and he didn't know what to feel. He always knew this world was unfair, but to experience it first hand was another thing in itself.
The place was a quiet facility on the edge of a city, housing retired civilians, former office workers, and a few ex–support course engineers whose inventions kept heroes alive but never made headlines.
And tucked among them are a handful of former heroes whose Quirks aged badly. Super strength that now wrecked brittle bones, precision Quirks ruined by shaking hands, and healing quirks that slowed just enough to become a liability.
The funding was practically non-existent, that much he could tell. There was a plaque out front thanking the Hero Commission, tons of smiling All Might poster peeling at the corners, and staff stretched thin.
After all, healing quirks are prioritized for emergencies and combat hospitals, not long-term elder care. Recovery Girl type quirks are rare, overworked, and triaged toward the dramatic.
The staff were nice, Sukuna had deemed them so from the way they took care of the elderly. Their quirks, although 'unflashy' in most people's eyes, became priceless in the old folks home. One had a temperature-regulation Quirk that helped keep rooms comfortable for frail bodies, another had minor telekinesis that lifted people gently without jarring their joints, and the other had an emotion-soothing Quirk that calmed panic attacks when memories turned cruel at night.
Though their efforts saved lives, none of them made the news. Society is unfair like that. What Sukuna saw was the end state of hero society, elderly people who once relied on heroes now relying on volunteers, former pros who gave everything and now measure their days in pills and physical therapy, and civilians whose lives were 'saved' but never repaired.
'Quirk or not, they really just discard people once their usefulness fades huh...' Sukuna stared at the ground pensively. Behind him, Jin walked down the steps, noticing his son's empty gaze.
"This is what I see everyday." Jin stated, sitting with him. Sukuna glanced at his father who motioned a thumb at the door behind him.
"They don't pay me to do this, just so you know. I just volunteered to help for a simple reason, because no one's stepping up to do something about it." Sukuna was silently thoughtful as Jin then glanced at his watch.
"We're going to an orphanage next to perform some check ups. You want to come with me, or do you want me to drop you off at home first?" His father asked. Sukuna stood up, cracking his knuckles, already walking towards the car.
"I'm coming with you."
...
"No!! I don't wanna get injections!!" One child cried out. Jin chuckled a little to himself. Although the child in front of him has already received a lot of vaccine injections, it still wasn't a pleasant experience.
"Huh?" The child stopped as Sukuna crouched in front of him, holding up a piece of candy. The child reached out but Sukuna pulled back.
"Injection first, or there will be no candy for you." Sukuna stated. The child pouted before raising his right sleeve.
"Fine! Just get it over with already!" Jin smiled as he gently injected the child with a vaccine. The kid flinched at first from the small sting, but then he realized that it wasn't as painful as he thought it was.
"Good job." Sukuna muttered, gently placing the candy on the kid's hands as the child happily ran away, a small bandaid on his shoulder.
This was the routine for the past hour or so for Jin and his son. Thankfully, most of the children here were obedient, knowing the importance of vaccines and that it doesn't hurt at all. Occasionally, there were some rowdy ones but a candy bribe was all it took to convince them.
"You're good at this. Those kids weren't that compliant when I'm the only one here." Jin commented, packing up with his son after the last child was injected. Sukuna shrugged, not seeing how amazing it really was handling rowdy children like that.
"It's a good thing we bought candy before coming here." He smirked a little, tearing open the wrapper, enjoying the sweetness of the candy.
"Heyy!!! We want more!" He glanced at the kids, all looking up at him with puppy doll eyes. Sukuna sighed, crouching down again.
"You can't eat too much, it's not good for your health." Sukuna stated, purposefully opening another wrapper and eating a second candy in front of them.
"But you just ate another one!" One child shouted, accusing him of his hypocrisy.
"Yeah! If you can have two, we can have two as well!" Another declared. Sukuna rubbed his chin before sighing a little.
"Fine, I guess one more for you all won't hurt."
"Yeayyy!!!!"
...
"You looked like you just saw something you shouldn't." Jin commented, smirking in amusement as he and Sukuna sat together at a ramen parlor, enjoying their ramen.
"I saw a part of the world I was afraid to confront." His son corrected, sipping some of the soup. Jin nodded in understanding.
"This world defines 'success' by salary, prestige, no ranking boost, no brand deals. My Quirk would make me be one of the best healers in the world, if not the best, but you know that I quit on my first year of being a pro hero." Sukuna nodded. His father had a Quirk called Reverse, which basically allowed one to reverse the damage of oneself and others from basically any injury from gashes to burns.
"By this world's logic, it meant that I was wasting my own potential, but I know what suffering was like up close. The neglect is real, my work proves it, the system has decided it's acceptable to let it rot."
He continued. "I chose a smaller, truer unit of meaning instead of fame. Yes, volunteering at these run down places doesn't give me anything, but earns me something hero society pretends to value but rarely practices, something that most heroes don't have..." Jin smiled at his some.
"I have the trust of a whole town, son. The kind built slowly, person by person, the kind that makes people listen when I speak up, the kind that turns me into the moral reference point of a community." Sukuna nodded. What his father said was true. Due to Jin's community work, most people would rather go to his clinic than the ones ran by famous healer pro heroes.
"The point of this isn't that it pays off. The point is that someone has to be the adult in the room when the system refuses to be one. Isn't that a more important job than what the pros do?" Jin questioned. Sukuna hummed.
Current society has elevated impact that is loud, fast, and symbolic. But unfortunately systems don't survive on symbols. They survive on maintenance, maintenance that's unglamorous, repetitive, and existentially essential, like oxygen or janitors or antibiotics. One only notices it when it's gone, and by then one is already in trouble.
"My job is more important precisely because it's irreplaceable in the moment it's needed. A dozen heroes can punch a villain, but do you think those heroes will sit with a confused elderly patient at 3 a.m. and calmly explain where they are?"
"You have... quite the burden." Sukuna commented. Jin shook his head.
"It's a responsibility I chose to take, it was never a burden." Jin corrected. Silence returned as father and son continued eating.
Jin looked at his son. His son wasn't the most expressive person out there, but one could tell how he felt just by looking at those crimson eyes of his. And currently, Jin saw a burning flame within.
Once his son decides on something, there was no way to talk him out of it.
"You look like you want to do something about this cursed system of ours." Sukuna glanced at him.
"And what if I do?"
"If you do, you have a bigger responsibility than all of us have, and as your father, I am worried about you more than others. Are you sure you want that for yourself, son?
To be continued....