She pulled my hand firmly, her fingers trembling, yet her grip was warm. She pulled me up from the cold floor, her eyes fixed on the open door.
"We must leave... quickly, before he wakes up or the place seals us in again," she whispered in a breathless voice.
Before we took a single step outside, she suddenly stopped. She looked at the massive man lying on the floor, and something in her gaze changed; she rushed toward the kitchen and returned with some sturdy ropes and wires, and began tying him up completely, binding his hands and feet tightly to ensure he wouldn't move even if he regained consciousness hours later.
She didn't stop there; she picked up his phone lying on the table and opened the GPS location service. I saw her pressing the screen with manic speed, sending the current location to a long list of random numbers and groups registered in his phone.
I looked at her in wonder, and in a quiet, childish voice, I asked her: "What are you doing, Mother?"
She paused for a moment and looked at me with a faint, bitter smile: "I sent a small gift to your father's friends..."
At that moment, I realized what she was truly doing. She didn't send the location to friends, but to the creditors. She had marked him for them to find, so he could taste from the same cup he forced us to drink. I chose silence; there was no need for sympathy for a monster like him.
Then she headed toward a hidden cabinet and took out a few meager banknotes, all that remained of the savings she had managed to hide from him. Then she pulled out some sparse clothing and dressed me in a jacket that was far too long—its edges covered my hands and reached my knees—making me look like a child wearing a vast cloak, but I didn't care. The warmth in the fabric was better than the cold that filled the place.
"Come, Douma, don't look back," she said as she opened the house's outer door.
I followed her with quiet steps, and as soon as we crossed the threshold, I felt a breeze of cold air hit my face, which was stained with blood and wine.
"Finally, I'm out." Even though I hadn't really spent more than a few hours, I felt as if I had emerged from hell.
My mother pulled my hand with greater force, saying, "Douma, watch your steps! We have no time to waste; we must get away from this area before anyone finds us."
She was walking at high speed along the rugged dirt road surrounding our isolated house. Her breath was rapid, while I was being pulled behind her, the long jacket swaying around my body. Suddenly, my eyes fell upon something hanging on a leaning lampost at the corner of the road.
It was an old and faded poster, but the image on it was as clear as the sun... a man with a wide smile, massive muscles, and yellow hair that defied gravity.
[O... All Might?!] my mind screamed in astonishment.
My feet stopped moving for a second before my mother pulled me again. I had seen this image before; it is the iconic character from the anime My Hero Academia. The gears in my mind began to spin with manic speed. Since I am in the body of a child named "Douma," with his silver hair and strange eyes, and since I heard my mother talking about "Quirks" and that my real father was a hero... does this mean I am in the world of Boku no Hero?
I remembered the phone my mother was using, and the technology I saw in the house; everything hinted at a modern era. But the idea of being in the world of superheroes was more terrifying than it was exciting.
I looked at my mother, then at the dark road behind us where that bound, obese man lay. [A world of heroes?] I thought with bitter irony. [So I've been transported to the world of My Hero Academia, haven't I?]
My mother pulled me further, avoiding the main roads. Our grueling journey lasted for nearly two hours; my small feet were aching, and the long jacket tripped my steps, but I didn't utter a single word of complaint. My mind was still trying to grasp the idea of "All Might" and this world.
Finally, the city's landmarks began to appear on the horizon; bright neon lights, distant traffic congestion, and towering skyscrapers. My mother didn't stop until we reached a small, modest hotel in a secluded corner of the city. She entered quickly, and with a trembling hand, she took out a small amount of money and rented a small room on the top floor.
As soon as the room door closed behind us, my mother breathed a sigh of relief as if a mountain's weight had been lifted from her chest. She turned to me, her eyes overflowing with exhaustion and tenderness, and said in a faint voice: "Douma... we are safe now. Look at you, you are covered in blood and filth... come, let's go bathe immediately and change these clothes."
She stepped toward me to take my hand and lead me toward the bathroom, but I took a step back, and I felt a knot in my stomach. [Bathe together?] my mind—which carries a maturity unsuited for this body—screamed. The idea of bathing with her was impossible for me, even if she were "Mother" in this world.
"No..." I said clearly and with a steady voice. "I will bathe alone... you go first, and I will go in after you."
My mother stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening in hidden amazement. This was the first clear "refusal" or "request" to come from me in a very long time. Throughout the past months, I was merely a silent doll moving as ordered, but now I was expressing my will.
She didn't want to break this moment, or refuse the first wish he expressed after regaining his voice. She sighed deeply, and a sad smile formed on her lips as she gently brushed my silver hair. "Alright, my little one... as you wish. I will go in first; wait for me here and don't open the door for anyone, agreed?"
I nodded to her in silence. She took some towels and entered the bathroom, and soon the sound of warm spray water began.
I walked with slow steps toward the room's only window. I pulled the curtain slightly and stood there, staring at the twinkling city lights outside. The streets were teeming with life, and perhaps somewhere out there, heroes were conducting their patrols.
[The world of My Hero Academia...] I thought bitterly as I touched the bandaged wound on my forehead. [A world where heroes smile for the cameras, but what happens behind the scenes remains hidden from the world.]
I remained standing before the window before my thoughts were interrupted.
"Douma, you can go wash up now..."
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