Location: Kageyama residence in Musutafu, Japan
Time: 1:00 PM
Takashi kept his promise. Rei's training began as soon as the doctors gave the green light. The focus was meant to be on precision and control, but it quickly became clear that the first challenge wasn't refinement—it was activation.
Rei couldn't summon his quirk at all.
Not on command, not by accident. The translucent limbs that had once burst out to protect and catch seemed to have vanished entirely. It was as if they had never existed.
And so, Takashi began keeping notes.
Day 1
No progress. Not a flicker of movement. Rei tried hard—stood in silence, breathed like I told him to—but nothing came. I'll need to adjust the approach. Maybe new methods. Or something more emotional.
Day 2
Still no response from the quirk. Rei's staying focused, though. Determined. He doesn't complain, even when the exercises are repetitive. That's good. That's something.
Day 3
Same as before. No visible activity. Rei looked disappointed afterward. I told him not to worry—we're just getting started. He nodded. Didn't smile.
...
Day 7
Progress. A small reaction today. Rei stopped mid-task—completely zoned out. When I asked what happened, he said: "I felt that same weird feeling again… like at the hospital."It passed in seconds, but it was something. We're getting closer.
...
Day 13
It happened. I tripped on a training mat—stupid oversight. As I started to fall, one of those ghostly limbs shot out from Rei's chest. Fast. Fluid. Just like before. It grabbed my shoulder and steadied me.
Rei froze, staring at his hands like they belonged to someone else.
When I thanked him, he didn't say anything—just smiled.
It's coming back. Slowly. But it's there.
Takashi remained crouched where he'd stumbled, his eyes fixed on the empty air where the ghostly hand had just flickered into existence. The memory of its touch still lingered on his shoulder—a light, shimmering pressure that had vanished as quickly as it came.
Just a few feet away, Rei stood completely still.
His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths. His eyes—wide and filled with something between wonder and fear—were locked on his father. His tiny fists trembled at his sides.
"Did I… do that?" Rei asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He sounded like he was afraid of the answer.
Takashi straightened slowly, brushing his hands down his sleeves more from habit than need. He took a step forward, his gaze gentle but unwavering. "You did," he said softly. "You caught me."
Rei blinked, confused. "But I didn't mean to. I didn't even think about it. It just… happened. Like when the drinks almost fell."
Takashi knelt down in front of him, close enough to see the way Rei's lip wobbled, just slightly. "That's okay," he said, his tone low and reassuring. "That means your body already knows what to do. Now we just need to teach your mind how to do it on purpose."
Rei slowly looked down at his chest, where the ghostly arm had emerged. He poked it once with his fingers, as if checking to see if something would pop out again. Nothing happened.
"It felt… weird," he murmured. "Like something moved inside me. It didn't hurt. Just strange. Like it wasn't me… but it was."
Takashi smiled, placing a steady hand on Rei's shoulder. "That's your quirk," he said. "It's waking up. That feeling you had? That's it reaching out—trying to protect."
Rei looked back up at him, head tilted in thought. "Does that mean I'm a hero now?"
Takashi paused. The question struck him—not because it was unexpected, but because of the quiet hope behind it. He saw himself in those eyes, years ago, asking the same thing.
"Not yet," he said, voice low but full of pride. "But you're learning what it means to be one. That's where every hero starts."
Rei's eyes brightened. His lips curved into a small, proud smile. "Then I'll keep trying. I wanna be ready next time. For real."
Takashi gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Good," he said. "Because I think your quirk's ready too."
Takashi stood, brushing bits of grass from his hands, and turned his gaze back toward the training field. It wasn't much—just an open patch of earth behind their house, dotted with cones, mats, and stray training equipment he'd borrowed from old hero friends. But to Rei, it might as well have been a battlefield.
"Alright," Takashi said, his voice light but focused. "Since your quirk seems to like helping people," he glanced over his shoulder with a faint smile, "let's give it something to help with."
Rei's eyes lit up. "Really?"
Takashi nodded and gestured toward a bright red rubber ball lying a few meters away. "We'll start simple. I'm going to roll that ball toward you. Don't use your hands, okay? I want you to try and stop it using your quirk."
Rei hesitated, his excitement faltering just a little. "But… what if it doesn't work again?"
Takashi crouched down beside him. "Then we try again. And again. However many times it takes. You're not here to be perfect—you're here to learn."
Rei didn't look fully convinced, but he nodded. "Okay… I'll try."
He shuffled into place, standing with his legs slightly apart like his dad had taught him. His fingers twitched at his sides, unsure of what to do.
Takashi gave the ball a gentle push.
It rolled slowly at first, making soft thuds as it bounced unevenly across the ground. The world seemed to hold its breath as Rei stared it down, willing something—anything—to happen.
His tiny brow furrowed. He clenched his fists. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. Please work, please work, please—
Just as the ball neared his feet, there was a flicker—soft and almost invisible in the daylight. A pale, translucent limb flicked out from his side. It trembled in the air like a ribbon in the wind but reached forward all the same.
With the gentlest tap, the ghostly hand nudged the ball, halting its movement.
Rei blinked. Then again.
And then his mouth opened in shock.
"I did it!" he shouted. "Did you see that? I did it!"
Takashi grinned wide. "I saw it. That wasn't just reflex—you aimed. You focused. That's control, Rei."
Rei turned to look at his hands, then at the spot where the ghost limb had flickered into view. He reached toward it, like he could touch the air it had just filled. "It felt… warm. Like it wanted to help."
Takashi walked over and knelt beside him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "It's part of you. And today, it listened."
Rei was practically bouncing on his feet now, glowing with pride. "Do you think it'll always listen if I try hard?"
"I think," Takashi said, "that one day, it won't just listen—it'll talk to you. It'll move like your own arms. Like a teammate who knows what you need before you even say it."
Rei stared up at his father, eyes wide with wonder. "Like a friend?"
Takashi chuckled softly. "Exactly. A strange, floaty, long-armed friend who's always got your back."
Rei giggled, the tension in his shoulders melting away. "I want that. I wanna get good. I wanna be ready."
Takashi pulled him in for a side hug. "And you will. I promise."
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(Yumi POV)
I saw it with my own eyes. Out there in the yard, through the glass. That flicker—that strange, ghostly hand. Our little Rei… he's really beginning to change. He's developing. Growing.
Not just his body. Not just his strength.His spirit.
I remember each day like a quiet painting hung in my heart.
Every evening, Takashi and Rei would come in from training. On the first day, their faces were still bright—Rei's cheeks red from running, Takashi's voice light with encouragement. Nothing had happened yet, but that didn't matter. They had hope.
The second day was much the same. No progress, but no discouragement either. Just the rhythm of trying.
But the third day… I noticed it.
That tiny shift behind Rei's eyes. Disappointment, trying so hard not to show itself. He smiled through dinner, spoke softly about the trees and the bugs in the grass. The same innocent expression on his face. But I'm his mother. I saw it in the way he held his chopsticks too tight. In the silence between his words. The weight of not being able to do it. Of wanting so badly to be something.
It grew. Quietly. Day by day.
By day seven, I had started watching from the window every afternoon. Not out of doubt—but out of hope. Hope that something would change. That today would be different.
And then it happened.
Rei stood in the middle of the yard, still as a statue. I saw his little shoulders lock up, his eyes go distant—like he wasn't quite there. Takashi moved toward him, calling out. I held my breath.
And then Rei spoke. I couldn't hear the words from where I stood. But I saw my husband's face light up, clear as day. That spark—the one I hadn't seen since the doctor first explained Rei's quirk—came back into his eyes like a match catching fire.
Rei had felt something.
That was the first real step. The moment something inside him stirred. He was changing—not just because he had a quirk. But because he was learning how to reach it.
And through the window, I whispered to myself, smiling:He's really going to be something.
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The scent of simmering miso and grilled fish filled the kitchen, wrapping around us like a blanket. The table was already set when the door slid open and two sets of footsteps padded in—one heavy, one light.
Rei came in first, his hair tousled, cheeks a little flushed, and eyes brighter than they'd been in days. Takashi followed, a calmness in his step, though I saw the pride tugging at the corners of his mouth.
I kept my voice even as I turned from the stove. "Wash your hands, both of you."
"Yes, Mom!" Rei chirped, and I swear his voice had a different energy tonight. A little bounce, a little spark.
Dinner began like any other evening. Chatter about the weather, what I'd overheard on the news, the vegetables growing in the backyard. But Rei was quiet at first—not in the way he had been on the harder days, but like he was holding something in. Something he was still trying to believe had really happened.
I passed him a small bowl of rice. "You look like someone with a secret," I said gently, watching his fingers curl around the edge.
He blinked up at me, then looked at Takashi.
Takashi didn't say a word. Just gave a small, almost invisible nod.
Rei's mouth opened. Closed. Then finally—"It came out. My ghost hand."He spoke the words so carefully, like they might fall apart if he rushed them.
I set the pot down and knelt next to him. "Tell me."
He sat a little taller. "Dad tripped. I didn't even think. It just—fwip!—and it caught him. Just like with the drinks. But I didn't mean to do it. It just happened."
His little hands were already miming the moment, making whooshing sounds as he reenacted the burst of instinct, the way the translucent hand had flickered out from his chest.
"And how did it feel?" I asked softly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.
He paused. "Like… it was waiting. Like it knew I needed help."
My chest tightened in the best way. I smiled and kissed his forehead. "That's because it's part of you. And you're kind, Rei. You always want to help."
Across the table, Takashi raised his glass of water. "To small victories."
Rei grinned and raised his juice cup, knocking it gently against his dad's.
"To my ghost hand," he said proudly. "Next time, I'll make it come out on purpose!"
I laughed, my heart so full it almost hurt. "Just don't use it to sneak extra dessert."
"No promises!" he said with a giggle.
And for a few minutes, we were just a family again. Eating dinner. Laughing. Dreaming.
But under the table, I could still see Rei's fingers twitch every so often—like he was feeling for something invisible just beneath the surface.
Like he couldn't wait for tomorrow.