English is not my native language, so I kindly ask for your patience and understanding if I make any mistakes. I am continuously trying to improve my communication skills, and I truly appreciate your willingness to read and respond despite any errors. Thank you for your consideration and support
-)
The morning started off wonderfully. Mom woke me up a few minutes before we finished breakfast, which consisted of a bowl of rice with egg, some miso soup, yakizakana, and a cup of green tea to drink. A delicious traditional breakfast. Once we finished breakfast, we both went to get ready in our respective rooms. I didn't overthink it: I put on a white t-shirt that said "T-shirt" and some navy blue shorts.
As I stepped out into the hallway, I saw Mom dressed in a white shirt under a light blue sweater, paired with a dark blue knee-length skirt.
— You look great, Mom.
— You too, Izuku.
— Even if I wear a shirt that says "T-shirt"? — I said, half joking, although partly not, since I had previously received very bad criticism for this way of dressing.
— Even if your shirt says "t-shirt," you look great. So, shall we go?
- Come on!
We put on our shoes and left the house, heading to the shopping district. Walking among the shops was surprisingly liberating, in more ways than one, and even more so because it was a moment of connection between Mom and me, something I hadn't known I needed until now.
At first, we just walked down the street looking at the shops, until one completely caught our attention. I couldn't help feeling a little guilty when Mom insisted on going into the superhero merchandise stores; every time I refused, she got sad. After the sixth attempt, she dropped the subject.
Almost by chance, we passed near a clothing store and I noticed how her eyes lit up when she saw a yellow dress with daisies on the edge, knee-length and short sleeved.
"We should go in there," I suggested, gently pulling her toward the tent.
— Wouldn't you prefer to go to a different kind of store? It might be boring for you to go into a women's clothing store.
"Not at all. You always came with me and waited for me at the... hero shops," I said with a touch of melancholy, before smiling at her. "Besides, I saw you liked that dress; you should try it on."
I didn't need to convince her anymore. We went inside and she asked an assistant for a size, while I went to a bench to wait, checking my phone for a bit. Shortly after, they called her and I saw her coming out of the dressing room with the dress.
— You look cute.
— Do you really believe that?
— Just as you think I look good in a t-shirt that says "t-shirt", you look fantastic in that dress.
I saw tears of joy well up in her eyes, though she managed to hold them back before heading back to the dressing room. I got up and went to the register to get in line. Mom arrived just in time, paid for the dress, and gave me a grateful smile. She truly deserved it. We continued strolling for a while longer, until we decided to go into a bookstore out of curiosity. It turned out to be more productive than I expected: I found a section dedicated to eccentricities.
After reviewing several titles, I chose three books: "Advanced Peculiarity Theory, "Quirk Classification: Branching and its Variants"and"The evolution of peculiarities: the lineage factor"
They were research books, large, heavy, and expensive, which is why I didn't take any more.
I insisted on paying for the books with my own money, although Mom ended up paying for the most expensive one, allowing me to cover the other two.
As we left the bookstore, an advertising van drove past us displaying the new All Might products. Somehow, that memory stirred a feeling of aversion in me, reminding me of that day on the rooftop. My discomfort was perhaps obvious, because Mom grabbed my shoulder to get my attention.
"Why don't we go for some ice cream?" she suggested.
"That sounds like a good idea, let's go," I replied, trying to hide my discomfort.
We went into the ice cream shop, which was quite crowded. While we were looking for a place to sit, we heard an explosion in the distance. Another explosion followed, and then another, all accompanied by the screams of people running outside.
At first it wasn't obvious, but when the building began to shake with the series of explosions, we realized danger was near. We weren't the only ones to notice: the crowd inside the ice cream shop panicked and began pushing each other. In the chaos, Mom and I were swept up in the stampede, and we soon found ourselves separated in the throng of people running for the exit.
Panic was everywhere. However, there was a split second when I sensed an opportunity. Taking advantage of the pushing and shoving, I managed to slip into a side alley that, surprisingly, was empty. I guessed most people were opting for the main street, which was wider and more direct.That brief respite allowed me to look in the opposite direction from where the crowd was running. That's when I saw him: the one who had caused the commotion.
He was a tall, thin man with a black and orange afro, brown skin, and yellow eyes. A scar covered half his mouth and part of his chin. He wore a black athletic vest, military-style pants with cargo boots, and thick leather armbands on both arms.
And he was throwing bombs from his own hands.
Looking more closely, I noticed a pattern: before throwing each explosive, he would clench his hands, making the bomb appear already lit before he threw it. "That's his Quirk," I whispered, noticing it as my heart pounded.
"Come on, heroes, show yourself!" shouted the villainous bomber, launching more bombs at nearby buildings.
"Doesn't anyone care that I robbed a jewelry store or am causing mayhem?!"
To me, that man wasn't sane. Public displays of this magnitude just to attract heroes? It was senseless. At that moment, I realized I had to get out of the alley: the crowd had disappeared, and the villain was walking right toward me.
I was already thinking of running for the opposite exit when a silver blur crossed my vision. Finally, the heroes had arrived.
A knot of emotion, ancient and forgotten, ran through me: I peered carefully from the alley and saw Turbo Hero Ingenium arrive at the scene.
— Of course we care, and that's why we're stopping you right here and now
— he said firmly.
—Shall we stop it? —the villain wondered, just as three of Ingenium's colleagues appeared, along withKamui WoodsandBackdraft.
Surprise flickered across the villain's face, but it quickly twisted into a crazed grin. His objective had been achieved: to attract the heroes' attention and demonstrate his power. He felt ecstatic, convinced his boss would be proud of the spectacle he was putting on.
He quickly conjured six bombs in each hand and threw them at everyone present.
Ingenium managed to dodge the attacks, as did his companions;Kamui blocked with a shield of branches, and Backdraft deflected a projectile with one of his hoses.
The villain, seeing that his attack had no effect on the heroes, flew into a rage. More and more bombs appeared in his hands and were launched in all directions, hitting not only the pro-heroes but also the surrounding buildings.
I remained hidden in the alley, aware of the danger surrounding me, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. Despite being outnumbered, the villain's erratic attacks made him unpredictable. Every so often, I retreated to avoid the debris flying my way, analyzing each movement.
It was then that I noticed a pattern: the less time I clenched my hands, the more bombs appeared; the longer I kept my fist closed, the larger the bombs were and the greater their destructive range.
I wanted to tell the heroes, but the fear of being ignored as a mere civilian gnawed at me. Even so, it was my chance to help.
I took a breath, gathering my courage, and stepped forward, out of the alley, shouting at the top of my lungs:
— DON'T LET HIM CLOSE HIS HANDS!
My scream echoed down the street. All eyes turned to me: both the heroes and the villain. The latter frowned, clearly annoyed that someone had given the heroes some clues, even if not the full picture.
—A child? —Why is there still a civilian here?—We have to get him away from here! —This is dangerous, kid, get away!
Questions and shouts erupted among the heroes on the scene. My shout had momentarily distracted them from the battle, and besides, no one had quite understood what I meant. It was clear that a civilian there complicated the situation.
Even so, there was someone who understood immediately and reacted instantly.
"YOU DAMN BRAT, DON'T SAY ANOTHER WORD!" yelled the villain, throwing several bombs at me.
Regret struck me immediately. Everything happened so fast, yet it seemed to drag I felt death was inevitable. Purely on instinct, I darted to the side to try and dodge the impact… only to be lifted off the ground by a sudden breeze. I had been saved by Ingenium."Man, that was really dangerous!" I managed to hear, though my shock and fanaticism almost prevented me from speaking. I could barely manage a slight stutter:
— Dn-don't let him close… his hands… he has to close them… to… to create the bombs.
At that moment, Ingenium understood everything. I had identified how the villain's Quirk worked and had exposed myself to communicate it to him. With a calmer demeanor, though still keeping a watchful eye on the villain, he placed me on the ground and activated his communicator to relay the information to his teammates.
"This is Ingenium," he said as he received confirmation. "The villain creates his bombs by closing his hands. You have to stop him!"
— The size and quantity vary depending on how long you close your hands!
— I interrupted, managing to calm down and realize that the heroes were using my information.
"Did you hear that?" Ingenium asked. He received a chorus of affirmation from the other end of his communicator. A small smile appeared beneath his mask.
"Then you know what to do," he said before returning to the battle. "Thanks, kid."
Watching that was like magic to me. The heroes regained the upper hand almost immediately, and the villain, focused on the fight, began to lose control. His mistake: keeping his hands closed for too long, creating bigger bombs and destroying his own focus.
Shortly after, Kamui Woods managed to immobilize his hands, growing branches that trapped his fingers, limiting his ability to generate more explosives.
It was from this advantage that Backdraft created a water whip to restrain the villain by his arms and torso, immobilizing him to the point where Ingenium could approach and place a pair of Quirk-inhibiting handcuffs on him. They had apprehended the villain.
What followed seemed like a purely routine process: police sirens could be heard in the distance, citizens gradually returned to the area, and reporters began arriving to cover the incident. Everything seemed to be returning to normal, until a scream pierced the air:
— IZUKU! —A mother called desperately to her son.
I wasted no time; I ran toward the sound of the scream, pushing away from the heroes who were scolding me for putting myself in danger. My actions had been observed by the villainous bomber, who never took his eyes off me, even as I was being escorted away.
Seeing where I was going, his eyes fell upon the woman with hairgreen. She sensed that I was someone important to me and, seeing where I was standing, she knew she had the perfect opportunity to make me pay for what I had said.
— Final Bombs Attack! —exclaimed the villain.
At that moment, a series of explosions rocked the outskirts, putting everyone on alert once again. They believed the danger had ended with his capture, but the villain had prepared one last plan. They had taken down the guard escorting him…
— HA, HA, HA, HA! —his crazed laughter echoed amidst the explosions.
"A voice-activated device! Find it!" ordered one of the higher-ranking police officers.
"I found it!" an officer responded seconds later, pointing to the villain's thick hair, where the device was hidden.
"That's the price of information!" were the villain's last words before being taken to the patrol car, making sure he wasn't carrying any more explosive devices with him.
Even so, the damage was already done. The screams of panic quickly turned into screams of horror, especially among those who had been close to the explosions and the rubble. But none compared to mine: I witnessed my own mother being buried under the debris of one of the buildings.
- MOTHER!
Could you give me some power stones? :)