"What do you want for Christmas, Kori?"
My mother asked while we were decorating the small tree in our living room. It was barely a week until Christmas, and apparently, asking this late was normal in Japan, where Christmas was more about couples and KFC than family gift-giving.
But my parents were doing their best to blend traditions, some Japanese, some Western, all slightly confused but well-meaning.
"I'll make a list," I said, carefully hanging an ornament.
"A list! How organized." She smiled that soft smile that still made something in my chest ache. It reminded me of my previous life mom, who'd stopped smiling much after the divorce.
I shook the thought away. "Yeah. Easier than trying to remember everything verbally."
That night, I sat at my desk with paper and thought about it.
What did I want?
A new skateboard, definitely. Mine was getting worn down from constant use. I'd been eyeing a specific deck at the shop, better quality, designed for tricks rather than just cruising.
A baseball bat. My father had been talking about the upcoming season with this gleam in his eyes, and I'd found myself getting invested despite never caring about baseball in my previous life. Basketball had been my sport. But here, now, watching games with my dad...
It was becoming our thing.
A basketball, too, though. Because even in this world, it had its own version of the NBA called the "Quirk Basketball Association," which was exactly as stupid as it sounded, regular basketball still existed though, and I missed the feel of the ball, the rhythm of dribbling, the swish of a perfect shot.
I also needed to get some new clothes, like some baggy jeans, skate shoes, graphic tees, and maybe a hoodie or two.
I also added a few other things like new wheels for my current board, wrist guards since I'd been falling more attempting harder tricks, and a baseball glove to match the bat.
When I handed the list to my mother the next morning, I braced for questions.
Instead, her eyes got shiny.
"Oh, Kori. You're growing up so fast."
"Mom, I'm six."
"I know, but look at this! You didn't even write down any toys. She showed the list to my father, who was reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. "Hiroshi, look!"
He adjusted his glasses and scanned the list. A slow smile spread across his face. "A baseball bat? You want to play?"
"Yeah. Maybe. I thought we could practice together?"
His smile got wider. "I'd love that. There's a batting cage downtown. We could go on weekends."
"And look at these clothes!" My mother was practically bouncing. "He has such specific style preferences! Most kids his age don't even ask for clothes."
"He's always been particular," my father agreed. "Remember when he was three and insisted on organizing his blocks by color and size?"
"Our little genius," my mother said fondly, kissing the top of my head.
I sat there, bewildered. They were so loving and supportive of just seeing my Christmas list
Damn it, I thought. Don't make me open up to them too much.
Because the truth was, I still missed my original parents who'd fought too much but had loved me in their messy way. My real mom, who'd cried when I told her I wanted to be an artist. My real dad, who'd taught me to skate even though he thought it was a waste of time.
These people, Ayumi and Hiroshi, were good parents, maybe better parents than my original ones had been.
But they weren't mine.
Except... they were, weren't they? This was my life now, my parents and they were trying so hard, supporting interests they didn't fully understand, loving a kid who was secretly a teenager in a child's body.
I need to let myself care about them, I realized.
"Thanks," I said quietly. "For, you know, planning on getting it."
My mother hugged me tight. "We'll always support you, Kori. Whatever you're interested in, whatever you want to be. You're our special boy."
The warmth in my chest had nothing to do with my quirk.
The week before Christmas, my father took me to a batting cage.
"Let me show you, son, how you're supposed to hit a baseball properly."
"Okay, so hands together, knuckles aligned, and back elbow up and always watch the ball all the way in."
He demonstrated, stepping into the cage and hitting a few pitches. His form was decent; he'd clearly played before.
When it was my turn, I stepped up feeling like an idiot. The bat was heavier than I expected. My hands felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.
The first pitch came at me slowly; it was the beginner setting, and I swung way too early, missing embarrassingly.
"That's okay! Everyone misses their first one. Try tracking it longer."
Second pitch, I swung slightly late, missing.
Third pitch, I made contact, but it was weak, dribbling off to the side.
"Better! You're getting the timing!"
We spent an hour there. By the end, I could make solid contact about half the time. It felt good.
"You're a natural," my father said as we left. "We'll have to come back regularly."
"Yeah. This is fun."
"Your old man used to play in high school, you know. Wasn't good enough for the pros, obviously, but I loved it." He got this distant look. "Always dreamed of going pro. But then quirks became the big thing in sports, and if you didn't have one that helped..."
"You got pushed out."
"Yeah. Story of a lot of quirkless people's lives." He shrugged. "But that's okay. I found other things. Engineering, your mother, you. Better things, really."
We walked in silence for a bit.
"What if I want to go pro?" I asked. "In something. Not sure what yet, but... what if?"
"Then you train hard and go for it. Simple as that."
"What if I don't make it?"
"Then you tried, and that's what matters. Better to fail at something you love than succeed at something you don't care about."
He's right, I thought.
I wanted to be the number 1 hero, but I didn't want to be like All-Might. I want to be willing to make hard calls and bend the rules when necessary.
Is that heroic? I wondered. I didn't know yet, but I'd figure it out.
Christmas Eve brought heavy snow that covered Musutafu in white, which made my mother ridiculously excited.
"We're making a snowman! And snow lanterns! Oh, and we should get ingredients for hot pot!"
"What's a snow lantern?" I asked.
"You've never- of course, you haven't. Come on, I'll show you!"
She dragged me outside, where several neighbors were already building what looked like snow domes with candles inside. The effect was magical with soft light glowing through the snow, creating little beacons up and down the street.
"We make them on Christmas Eve," my mother explained. "It's a northern tradition, but some people in Musutafu have adopted it. You build the dome, hollow out a space for a candle, and light it at sunset."
"That's actually really cool."
"Right? Come on, let's build ours!"
We spent the next two hours building an elaborate snow lantern. My mother handled most of the architecture while I used my quirk to subtly reinforce weak spots and smooth surfaces.
"Your quirk is so useful for this!" she said. "Look how perfect the dome is!"
A few neighbors came over to admire our work. One woman, Mrs. Tanaka from down the street, asked if I could help fix her lantern that had partially collapsed.
"Of course!" My mother beamed with pride. "Kori, show her what you can do."
I walked over and carefully restructured the snow, using my quirk to freeze it into a more stable design. Mrs. Tanaka watched in amazement.
"He's so controlled! Most children his age can barely manage controlling their quirk to such a degree!"
After helping Mrs. Tanaka, two other neighbors asked for assistance. By the end, I'd helped build or repair six snow lanterns, and my mother was practically glowing with pride.
This is nice, I admitted to myself. Being appreciated and belonging to a community.
That evening, we lit all the lanterns as the sun set. The entire street glowed with soft light, families gathering outside to admire the display and share hot drinks.
My father appeared with thermoses of hot chocolate. "Thought you might need this."
We stood together, my parents, surrounded by neighbors and glowing snow, and it felt right, but it wasn't perfect. I still missed my old life sometimes and felt like an outsider in my own body.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Christmas morning started with the smell of something sweet baking.
I stumbled downstairs to find my mother making some kind of rolled cake, "Christmas cake," she explained, "it's tradition here," while my father was setting up what looked like a bucket of chicken.
"Is that KFC?" I asked.
"Christmas tradition!" he said cheerfully. "We ordered it weeks ago. You have to reserve it, or they sell out."
I like Japanese Christmas. It wasn't about any religion, but it was just a day to eat good food, exchange gifts, and have a good time together. I thought
After breakfast (which included the strangest combination of foods I'd ever seen), we moved to the living room for presents.
My father went first, opening a new baseball encyclopedia that my mother had gotten him. He immediately started reading it aloud, sharing random facts.
My mother got a beautiful scarf I'd helped my father pick out. She cried a little, which seemed to be her default response to gifts.
Then it was my turn.
The skateboard came first, exactly the one I'd wanted, a beautiful deck with custom wheels and trucks. I actually gasped.
"You like it?" my mother asked anxiously.
"It's perfect. Thank you!"
The baseball bat and glove came next. Quality gear, not cheap. My father showed me the grip tape he'd specially added to the bat.
"For better control," he explained. "I learned that trick in high school."
The basketball was regular size, and I bounced it to see how inflated it was, and it was inflated perfectly. It made me smile at the familiar sound.
"They still do regular basketball leagues," my father said. "No quirks allowed. If you want to join one, we can look into it."
"Really?"
"Of course! You should explore every interest. Who knows where it might lead?"
The clothes came last, and they were perfect. Baggy jeans in that specific 2000s style with skate shoes that looked straight out of my old life, surprisingly considering how far in the future this is. I also got hoodies with minimal branding, graphic tees with abstract designs.
My mother had somehow understood exactly what I wanted.
"I had to special order some of these," she admitted. "The styles you wanted aren't popular for children. But I figured if that's what makes you comfortable..."
I quickly went up to her and hugged her tightly.
"Thank you so much. These are perfect."
She hugged back, and I could feel her smile against my hair.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
That afternoon, I went to the park with my new skateboard.
It was beautiful with perfect weight distribution. I spent an hour just getting used to it, adjusting to the slightly different feel.
Then I started pushing my limits.
The tricks I'd been attempting all year, the ones that were just out of reach, suddenly clicked. The better board made all the difference.
I was about to attempt a hardflip when someone called my name.
"Kori! Merry Christmas!"
Izuku was running across the park, bundled in a ridiculous amount of winter gear. Behind him, Inko waved from a bench.
"Merry Christmas!" I called back. "You get anything good?"
"New hero notebooks! And Mom got me a subscription to Hero Weekly! What about you?"
I gestured to the skateboard. "New deck. Plus a baseball bat and some other stuff."
"That board looks expensive!"
"My parents went a little overboard. Yours?"
"Mom always does too much." He looked embarrassed. "She feels bad about... you know. The quirk thing. Tries to make up for it with gifts."
Guilt presents. Yeah, I remember those from my old life.
"Well, the notebooks are cool at least. Want to try the skateboard?"
His face lit up. "Really?"
I spent the next hour teaching Izuku to use the new board. He was better than he'd been, but still pretty terrible. Fell constantly but kept getting back up.
"Your persistence is impressive," I said after his fifteenth attempt at an ollie.
"I've got nothing else going for me, might as well be stubborn."
"You've got plenty going for you. You're just too focused on what you don't have to see it."
He landed the ollie, barely, almost falling, but successful nonetheless.
"I DID IT!"
"See? Persistence pays off."
We kept skating until the sun started setting. Inko called Izuku over, and they left with waves and well-wishes.
I stayed, practicing in the fading light.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
A/N:
78 Powerstones: Complete
178 Powerstones: Not Complete