— — START — —
It was officially the first day of summer.
Middle school was over.
Sorashi woke before the sky had even decided what it wanted to be.
The digital clock beside his bed glowed 4:30 AM, harsh and blue against the dark. Outside, the world was still asleep—no birds yet, no distant engines, only the quiet hum of electricity and the faint whisper of wind brushing against the window.
He sat up anyway.
Today was the day he'd finally get to train properly with Iida's brother.
He'd properly meet him. Not a polite greeting in a hallway or a brief nod before Tensei disappeared into hero work again. Today, he was there for real.
After washing up, he made his way downstairs, where he turned on the kitchen lights. It seems like he was the first one awake, so he immediately got to work.
'Breakfast is waiting.'
After some time, he finally finished making breakfast for everyone.
Scrambled eggs still steaming, pancakes stacked higher than strictly necessary, and a small bowl of sliced kiwi on the side.
Sorashi ate his portion, savoring it in the quiet warmth of the kitchen, and secured the portions for his father and mother.
He never understood how characters in shows managed to run out the door with nothing but a piece of toast clenched between their teeth.
Especially if they cooked a feast!
After cleaning up, he stepped outside.
Their house sat modestly back from the street, two stories with clean white siding and a low wooden fence lining the front. Not flashy, but well cared for—potted plants by the doorway, wind chimes softly clicking in the breeze. It was the kind of house that felt lived in, warm even when the lights were off.
The door closed quietly behind him.
The street was dark, illuminated only by scattered streetlights that cast long amber shadows across the pavement. The air was cool, crisp in a way that only early summer mornings managed. Houses slept with their curtains drawn, windows dark, the whole neighborhood holding its breath.
'Tenya's house is just a few blocks away,' he thought, rolling his shoulders. 'Might as well get in some early cardio.'
He stretched briefly, then jogged.
Strapped diagonally across his back was a six-foot metal pole, its weight familiar and reassuring. He'd long outgrown the plastic bo staff his parents had given him as a child, saving allowance and spare change until he could buy something that wouldn't bend or crack under pressure.
Tied securely to it was a small duffel bag. It had a change of clothes, a water bottle... and spare underwear. Afterall, you never knew what could happen.
...
As he ran, he took in the scenery.
This was a route he'd walked countless times, but never like this. The streets felt different before dawn—emptier, wider. The air carried the scent of dew and concrete, and somewhere in the distance, a train horn sounded low and lonely.
Mist clung faintly to the ground, brushing against his ankles as he moved.
But after a few meters, Sorashi slowed.
Not because he was tired—far from it—but because his feet had already decided where to turn.
He veered left at the corner, away from the familiar route, sneakers crunching softly against gravel as the pavement gave way to a narrow path lined with old trees.
The cemetery greeted him in silence.
Iron gates stood half-open, their hinges worn smooth by decades of use. Inside, rows of headstones stretched beneath the dim glow of scattered lamps, pale and uneven, some leaning with age. Dew clung to the grass, silver in the low light, and the air felt cooler here—still, heavy, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Sorashi walked carefully between the graves.
He knew where he was going.
He stopped in front of a modest headstone near the back, beneath a tree whose branches drooped protectively overhead.
Oboro Shirakumo. A Loving Son. A Brave Hero.
The stone was clean, well-kept. Someone had left fresh flowers recently—white and pale blue, their petals just beginning to curl at the edges.
Sorashi knelt.
"Hey," he said softly, resting his hands on his knees. "Sorry I haven't been around much."
The words felt familiar. Too familiar.
"I've been… busy. Training. School. Stuff." He scratched the back of his head, sheepish even now. "But today's kind of a big deal."
A quiet presence shifted nearby.
Sorashi glanced up.
A man sat on a bench a short distance away, slouched forward, elbows on his knees. He wore a long, worn coat despite the mild weather, dark hair messy and unkempt, stubble shadowing his jaw. A scarf hid most of his lower face. His eyes—tired, sharp, and far too observant—followed Sorashi with mild curiosity.
He man didn't look like a visitor.
He didn't look like they belonged anywhere else either.
"…Do you know him?" Sorashi asked, nodding toward the grave.
The man blinked, then looked away.
"…Yeah," he said after a pause. His voice was rough, like he didn't use it much. "You could say that."
Sorashi tilted his head. "Family?"
"No." Another pause. "Someone who got saved by him."
That made Sorashi smile a little.
"It's nice that you're still visiting him."
The man's grip tightened briefly on his coat.
"…Do you visit often?" he asked.
"Not as much as I should," Sorashi admitted. "But I try. My mother and father used to bring me here a lot when I was younger."
The man hummed quietly.
"I won't interrupt," he said, already rising to his feet. "You look like you've got something important to say."
He took a step away, then stopped.
"…Take care of yourself, kid."
"You too," Sorashi replied easily. Silently wishing the homeless man well.
The man walked off, footsteps fading between the graves, shoulders hunched as if carrying something heavier than exhaustion.
Sorashi turned back to the headstone.
"So," he said, voice dropping. "Mama and Papa finally said yes."
The words felt unreal even as he said them.
"I'm going to apply to U.A. High. For real. No lying. No pretending." His fingers curled into the grass. "They're scared. I get it. But… I want to try. I really do."
The morning breeze stirred, rustling the leaves above him.
"I'm training with a Pro Hero today," he added, grinning.
He stood, brushing off his knees.
"I'll come back soon," he promised. "I've got a lot to tell you."
With one last glance at the stone, Sorashi turned and jogged back toward the path, the cemetery slowly receding behind him.
The sky, at last, began to lighten.
…
By the time Iida's house came into view, his watch read 5:35 AM.
The Iida residence stood taller than most of the neighboring houses, set behind a neatly kept gate. Its architecture was solid and traditional, stone and polished wood, a quiet statement of stability rather than extravagance. It wasn't on the level of the truly wealthy—but it didn't need to be. Everything about it said established.
'He said six, so I'm very early. He wouldn't mind, right?' Sorashi thought, raising a hand toward the bell.
He paused.
…He didn't want to wake the whole household.
Instead, he pulled out his phone and called.
He expected grogginess, but what he got was a surprised voice.
"What? You're here?!" Tenya exclaimed. "That's unexpected— I'll be right there!"
The gate opened moments later.
Tenya Iida stood there, hair slicked back and dripping, a towel slung over his shoulders and steam practically trailing him out into the cool morning air.
"Jeez, slowpoke," Sorashi said, grinning. "You're only taking a bath now?"
"What? No, I just finished," the dark-blue-haired teen replied, combing his wet hair back with his fingers. "You surprised me. You're always five minutes late when you come here. That's what I was expecting."
The light-haired teen blinked. "Wow. You've been timing me?"
"Well… it was getting frustrating," the rule-bound one admitted. "It's almost always exactly five minutes."
Sorashi hummed thoughtfully. "Haven't you learned it by now? Expect the unexpected when it comes to me." He paused. "But is it still unexpected if you expect it?"
He then tapped his mouth with his finger, "Food for thought."
Tenya opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then opened it again.
"…Come in, Sora-kun," he said in the end.
Inside, the house was quiet but alive—lined with family photos, awards, and framed articles. Pictures of Tenya as a child, Tensei in hero gear, graduation photos, candid smiles frozen in time.
"Are your parents awake?" Sorashi asked.
"No," Tenya replied. "Just Tensei-nii. He's working on something with his suit. Have you eaten?"
"Yep. You?"
"I'm almost done, you should eat anyway."
They waited until Tenya finished up, then made their way deeper into the house.
The room they entered could only be described as a max-level mancave.
Tools lined the walls. Screens glowed softly with schematics and diagnostics. Hero equipment lay neatly organized, half-disassembled pieces of Ingenium's suit spread across a reinforced worktable.
And in the center of it all stood Tensei Iida.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, built in a way that spoke of motion even at rest. His dark-blue hair was swept back neatly, damp at the ends as if he'd rushed straight from a shower into work. A fitted undershirt clung to muscle earned through years of relentless training, forearms marked with faint scars that told quiet stories of close calls and hard-earned victories. His posture was straight but relaxed, the stance of someone who didn't need to prove authority to possess it.
Blue eyes—sharp, alert, and unmistakably an Iida—flicked from screen to suit as his hands worked with practiced ease, adjusting a component before tightening it down with a soft click.
"Hi, Mr. Iida!" the light-haired teen greeted excitedly.
Tensei raised his hands quickly, "Please! That's our father. Like I've said before, just call me Tensei."
Sorashi smiled in agreement.
"By the way," Tenya's older brother explained, "I probably wouldn't be here tomorrow, or that quite often, so you should remember everything I say. I'm not saying to take everything to heart, but y'know, keep it in mind."
He finished. "You don't need to do it perfectly. You just need to remember it."
His words were mostly meant for Sorashi since Tenya's already received his crash course.
And so, training began simply.
Warm-ups. Cardio. Stretching. Movements meant to wake the body rather than exhaust it.
"Let's get the blood pumping first, okay?"
...
After performing some exercises, Tensei eventually gestured toward Sorashi and Iida. "Alright then, show me first what you can do."
Sorashi glanced at Tenya. "Want to spar?"
Tenya nodded.
"You lost how many times again? A hundred to one? In my favor?" the light-haired teen asked with a sly grin.
"Fifteen to fifteen," Tenya replied, adjusting his glasses, which made Sorashi's smile crack ever so slightly.
Tensei raised an eyebrow.
And smiled.
'This'll be interesting.'
— — END — —
A/N: Anybody else like getting stoned?