The confrontation at the train yard lasted barely three minutes. The moment Titanic's controlled tremor knocked their leader off balance, the remaining villains realized they were outmatched. His reputation preceded him—a rising Symbol of Salvation who had never failed to save innocent lives, whose gentle smile masked devastating power. When he raised his hand, the very air seemed to vibrate with contained energy, and the criminals wisely chose surrender over facing his full might. They dropped their weapons without further resistance, understanding that their night of criminal enterprise was decisively over.
By the time the police arrived, Kazuki had the three suspects restrained with zip-ties and sitting calmly against a train car, looking thoroughly dejected. Detective Yamamoto, a veteran officer with graying temples, stepped out of the lead patrol car with a familiar smile.
"Efficient as always, Titanic. What's the situation?"
Kazuki handed over a small device he'd confiscated. "Industrial-grade cutting equipment and plans to breach the cargo containers. Looks like they were after the medical supplies being transported through here."
The detective nodded grimly. "Third theft attempt this month. These medicine shortages are making desperate people do desperate things.
" As the criminals were loaded into police vehicles, one of them looked back at Kazuki with genuine curiosity rather than resentment. "You could've crushed us without breaking a sweat. Why didn't you?"
Kazuki's smile was gentle but unwavering. "Because everyone deserves a chance to choose better tomorrow than they did today."
The year was 1975, and Japan was experiencing unprecedented changes. The post-war era had given way to rapid modernization, but the emergence of Quirks had created new challenges that society was still learning to navigate.
Unlike the organized hero system that would one day emerge, the current approach to superpowered individuals was fragmented and often chaotic. Government oversight existed but was minimal—heroes operated more like licensed vigilantes, with little standardization in training or methodology.
The Japan Meteorological Agency had recently added "Quirk-Related Seismic Activity" to their monitoring systems after several earthquakes turned out to be the result of Titanic's accidental outbursts rather than natural tectonic movement.
Television broadcasts included warnings about "Meta-Human Weather," and children were taught in school how to identify and report unusual Quirk manifestations. Despite the chaos, there was an underlying optimism—a sense that these new powers represented humanity's next evolutionary step.
In the shadowy underworld that most citizens never saw, whispers spoke of a mysterious figure called All For One, though few believed he was real. Those who did spoke his name with the kind of reverence reserved for natural disasters—an unstoppable force that appeared without warning and left devastation in its wake. The recent coordinated attacks across Japan bore his hallmarks, but law enforcement struggled to find concrete evidence of his involvement. To the public, he remained a boogeyman, a convenient explanation for the unexplainable tragedies that sometimes struck without warning.
Crime had evolved with the times. Traditional yakuza families now recruited members based on useful Quirks rather than just loyalty and ruthlessness. Bank robbers could walk through walls or turn invisible. Kidnappers could manipulate minds or just carry their victims altogether with superhuman strength. Law enforcement struggled to adapt, often finding themselves outmatched by criminals whose abilities made conventional police work obsolete. This created a desperate need for individuals like Kazuki—people with the power and moral conviction to stand against superpowered crime.
Hero agencies existed but were small, independent operations rather than the large corporations they would become. Most heroes worked alone or in small teams, operating more like private detectives than the celebrity figures they would evolve into. Public relations was an afterthought; what mattered was results. Pay was inconsistent, fame was fleeting, and the work was dangerous enough that many heroes didn't live to see retirement. Yet for those called to the profession, there was no other path that felt right.
The economic boom of the mid-1970s had created stark contrasts in Japanese society. While some cities gleamed with new construction and technological marvels, others struggled with poverty and the social upheaval caused by Quirk-related discrimination. Those with useful abilities could find lucrative work; those with dangerous or "unmarketable" Quirks often faced exclusion from mainstream society. It was into this complex world that young heroes like Kazuki and Nana were preparing to emerge.
The small café near Musutafu General Hospital had become their traditional meeting spot over the years. Tucked between a pharmacy and a flower shop, "Sunny Days" lived up to its name with cheerful yellow walls and warm lighting that made even the gloomiest afternoon feel hopeful. The elderly owner, Mrs. Tanaka, had grown fond of the young man with the distinctive white streak in his hair who always ordered the same thing: green tea and taiyaki (fish-shaped cake), with extra sweet filling.
Kazuki arrived first, as he usually did, choosing their customary corner table where they could speak privately. His civilian clothes—a simple navy sweater and dark jeans—made him look younger than his twenty-three years, especially when combined with his perpetual gentle smile. He'd learned long ago that his imposing hero persona needed to stay locked away during these precious moments of normalcy.
"Kazu-kun!" Nana's voice carried across the café as she entered, drawing the attention of several other patrons. Even in her casual clothes—a cream-colored blouse and brown jacket—she carried herself with the confidence of someone who belonged wherever she went. Her hero career was flourishing, and the newspapers had begun calling her "The Rising Star of the West District," though she insisted such titles embarrassed her.
She slid into the seat across from him, her keen eyes immediately studying his face with the intensity of someone trained to notice details others missed. "You look tired," she observed without preamble. "Rough patrol last night?"
"Nothing unusual," Kazuki replied, signaling Mrs. Tanaka for Nana's usual coffee and anmitsu (cold plate of fruits with jelly cubes). "Just some would-be thieves at the train yard. They surrendered without much fuss once they realized who they were dealing with." He chuckled softly. "One of them asked why I didn't just crush them. Sometimes I wonder if my reputation is scarier than my actual abilities."
Nana raised an eyebrow. "Your reputation exists because of your abilities, dummy. But more importantly—" Her expression grew serious, and she leaned forward. "How did your medical consultation go yesterday? Dr. Yamashiro's quarterly check-up, right?"
For just a moment, Kazuki's smile flickered—a micro-expression that lasted less than a second before his practiced composure reasserted itself. "Oh, that old bore? Same as always—lots of concerned muttering over his charts and stern warnings about 'pushing myself too hard.'" He waved a dismissive hand, his laugh sounding perfectly natural to anyone who hadn't known him for sixteen years. "You know how doctors are. They see one irregular reading and suddenly you're on death's door."
But Nana had known him for sixteen years.
She watched him carefully as he picked up his teacup, noting the slight tremor in his hands that he tried to disguise by moving deliberately slowly. His color was good, his smile warm and genuine, his voice steady—but there was something in his eyes, a shadow that hadn't been there the last time they'd met.
"Kazu-kun," she said quietly, using the childhood nickname that could still make him drop his guard. "You know you can tell me anything, right? We promised each other when we were kids that we'd never face things alone."
His smile never wavered, but he reached across the table to cover her hand with his. "And I'm not facing anything alone, Nana-chan. I have you, don't I? The uprising Symbol of Peace and the grumpiest woman in all of Japan keeping me company over terrible coffee and overpriced sweets."
"Hey!" Nana protested, though her worry didn't entirely fade. "Mrs. Tanaka's coffee is perfectly adequate, and her prices are reasonable for the location." She paused, studying his face again. "But seriously, everything's fine? No new restrictions or... complications?"
"Everything's fine," Kazuki assured her, and the sincerity in his voice made it almost believable. "Dr. Yamashiro says my control has improved significantly over the past year. He's actually impressed with how stable my baseline readings have become." This much was true—his control had improved. What he didn't mention was the doctor's growing concern about cellular degradation that exceeded all previous projections.
Mrs. Tanaka approached with Nana's order, providing a welcome interruption. The elderly woman had developed a maternal fondness for the pair over the years, often commenting to other customers about "the nice young couple who come in every week." Neither Kazuki nor Nana corrected the assumption, finding it easier than explaining the complex reality of their relationship.
"Here you are, dear," Mrs. Tanaka said, setting down Nana's coffee with a warm smile. "And Kazuki-kun, I saved you an extra taiyaki. You look like you could use some fattening up."
After the café owner retreated, Nana stirred her coffee thoughtfully. "You know, sometimes I think Mrs. Tanaka has the right idea about some things."
"About what?" Kazuki asked, though he suspected where this was heading.
"About us," Nana said simply. "We spend more time together than most married couples. We worry about each other, support each other, know each other's secrets..." She trailed off, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
Kazuki's expression grew gentle, understanding. This was a conversation they'd been dancing around for months, perhaps years. "Nana-chan..."
"I know what you're going to say," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "That we're partners, that our work is too dangerous, that we can't afford the distraction. But what if—what if that's exactly why we should stop pretending we're just friends?"
The silence stretched between them, filled with years of unspoken feelings and careful boundaries. Kazuki's smile softened into something more vulnerable, more real than his public persona ever allowed.
"The life I've chosen," he said quietly, "it's not fair to ask someone to share it. Every time I use my Quirk, every major rescue, every confrontation with serious villains—it takes something from me that I can never get back. Is it fair to ask you to watch that? To build a life with someone who might not—"
"Stop." Nana's voice was firm but not harsh. "Just stop, Kazu-kun. Do you think I haven't thought about all of that? Do you think I don't know the risks we both face every day?" She leaned forward, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "The question isn't whether our lives are dangerous or uncertain. The question is whether we're brave enough to live them fully anyway. Even if its like a flicker of a firework"
Kazuki stared at her, this remarkable woman who had stood by him through the worst moments of his life, who had helped him find purpose in his pain, who saw strength where others saw only self-destruction. In her eyes, he saw not the hero the public worshipped, but the seven-year-old boy who had cried in her arms at his family's funeral.
"I'm scared," he admitted, the words barely above a whisper. "Not of villains or danger or even death. I'm scared of hurting you. Of leaving you alone someday."
Nana reached across the table and took both of his trembling hands in hers, her touch steady and warm. "Then don't," she said simply. "Don't leave me alone. Stay as long as you can, fight as hard as you can, and let me do the same. Let us be scared together instead of apart."
The afternoon sun slanted through the café windows, casting golden light across their joined hands. In that moment, surrounded by the mundane comfort of coffee cups and pastry crumbs, two of Japan's rising heroes made a quiet decision that would shape both their destinies.
"Okay," Kazuki said, his smile transforming into something radiant and genuine. "Okay, Nana-chan. Let's be brave together."
Outside, the city of Musutafu continued its daily rhythm, unaware that in a small café, two hearts had finally stopped trembling apart and chosen to tremble as one.
The uprising Symbol of Peace and the growing Symbol of Salvation had found their foundation—not in power or acclaim, but in the simple courage to love fully despite an uncertain tomorrow.
As they walked through the busy streets after leaving the café, Nana's hand warm in his, Kazuki allowed himself to imagine a future that extended beyond the next villain, the next rescue, the next medical appointment. For the first time in years, the constant tremor in his chest wasn't from his Quirk—it was from hope.
"So," Nana said with her eyes twinkling, swinging their joined hands with childlike enthusiasm, "what do we do now? I've never actually been in a relationship with my best friend before."
Kazuki laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "Well, I suppose we start with the revolutionary concept of calling it what it is instead of pretending we're 'just colleagues who happen to spend all our free time together.'"
"Radical thinking," Nana agreed solemnly, then grinned. "Though I should warn you, dating a hero is complicated. Irregular hours, dangerous work, the constant possibility that some villain will try to use your loved ones against you..."
"Terrible prospects," Kazuki nodded sagely. "Good thing I'm also a hero and already know all of that. Besides," his smile turned mischievous, "I seem to recall someone once telling a seven-year-old boy that the best heroes always have to overcome something."
Nana stopped walking, tugging him to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. Pedestrians flowed around them as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, her eyes bright with joy and determination.
"Together, then," she whispered against his ear. "Whatever comes next, we face it together."
And in the heart of a city that would one day need both of their strength, two heroes chose love over fear, hope over certainty, and each other over the safer path of solitude.
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AN: Awww it was so sweet writing this, yes yes I'm single so what, don't deny that most of ya'll are too.
Anyway that aside, I'm kind of changing the 'plot' perse kinda forgot to mention it before but I mean as, in canon there wasn't a symbol of salvation and neither there was one for peace, kinda took it out of my sleeve thinking it'd be nice to have a couple of symbols, get it? get it? :)... So jokes aside I set it up like that with the idea of 'always smile' that Nana taught Toshinori, so I thought, why couldn't she had been the symbol? then maybe it was just her failing to defeat one for all? or having a similar event to what ended up happening in All Might's event where he saved a massive amount of people, so... yeah I think you get where this is going.
Anyway I need to accumulate more of what I'm writing so I'll probs come back next week.
(just because I may have many chapters saved doesn't mean I can just give them away, its not about money or anything, its just I need to review them + add the corresponding text outside of plot direction + check discrepancies and choose whether I can live with them or not)