Smoke blanketed the sky, a choking curtain of ash that clung to the world below like rot. Cities lay in ruin. Towers once piercing the heavens had crumbled into concrete carcasses. Roads split and bled fire. There were no sirens, no cries for help. Just silence and flame.
And above it all floated a man.
His face was obscured, as though the smoke itself refused to reveal it. But the rest was unmistakable: the vibrant red-white-and-blue uniform, the rippling flag of America trailing from his shoulders like a royal mantle, and hair like spun gold fluttering in the updraft. Power bled off him in invisible waves. And his eyes—
His eyes burned.
Twin infernos. Radiant, untouchable, merciless. They stared down at the ruins, unblinking.
And then… he smiled.
The world burned a little brighter.
***
A boy shot upright in his bed, sweat clinging to his skin.
"Hhaah…!"
His chest rose and fell in ragged rhythm, heart pounding as if he'd run a marathon. His sheets clung to him like restraints. And then—
"Agh—!" he hissed, squinting. A sharp, stinging heat flared behind his eyes.
He reached up instinctively to rub them, but stopped short. The heat wasn't just inside. It radiated outward—his palm, feeling the burning sensation, snapped back from it as a natural reaction to fire.
"The hell—?"
Eyes wide with growing panic, Loid scrambled to his feet.
The worn boards of the orphanage floor creaked beneath his bare soles as he stumbled out into the hallway. Thankfully, no one was around. Not that he could tell amongst the panic.
He threw open the bathroom door, shutting it behind him, flicked on the flickering bulb overhead, and stared into the cracked, dusty mirror over the sink.
He saw himself—sort of.
His features were sharp, well-defined despite his thinness.
His blonde hair, often the source of teasing in his early childhood, stuck to his forehead with sweat. He looked pale. Haunted. Like he'd seen a ghost.
His irises glowed red, his pupils shimmering with energy. His sclera had darkened just slightly around the edges, veins glowing faint beneath the skin.
"What the hell is this…?" he whispered.
His breathing grew ragged. His heartbeat thudded against his ribs. A pulsing pressure—something volatile—was building behind his eyes. He could feel it.
Something inside was trying to get out. In the next few seconds, he felt like he'd explode, and the red in his eyes emphasized this as they intensified.
"No no no no no no...Not now. Not here."
Loid shut his eyes, reducing the heat just enough to he could cup both hands over his face, pressing his palms violently against his eyes., ignoring the in his hands.
Inhale.
Exhale.
"Come on…"
He focused. Not on the heat. Not on the pressure.
On control.
He pictured calm oceans, the sky on a windless day, hell even tried counting sheep, fucking anything to get his mind off the predicament he was in.
And so, his pulse slowed.
The burning flickered.
Then faded.
Cautiously, he peeled his hands away and blinked at the mirror. His eyes, still wide, had returned back to their regular ocean blue once more. Familiar. Human.
He exhaled long and slow.
With the adrenaline finally subsiding, he could relax and the fogginess in his mind was no more as he sat on the edge of the bathtub.
And after a few seconds, he came to a conclusion.
"It has to be. This is it, my Quirk."
It didn't make sense. The doctors had tested him, scanned him, probed and prodded for years. No signs of Quirk markers. No indication of dormant genes. He'd been labeled a late bloomer's impossibility: a confirmed Quirkless.
And he'd long accepted he'd have to live a life as so. He could handle the bullying and teasing for being the way he was and he'd already had a plan for how to do his best for what he could control.
If things would go the way he pleased, he'd be rich with a dozen women on each arm...though the latter was more wishful thinking.
But that had just changed.
"I finally awakened…"
He should have been elated. Kids all over the country would kill for a second chance at herohood. But instead, his stomach twisted.
Because this… this power…
It didn't feel like his.
No...
"It feels like his."
"Homelander…"
He said the name like it was something buried. Something sacred.
The dream had been the last...the one where the caped maniac floated over ruin.
He knew it deep in his bones. The end of a saga, the conclusion of a story told not in images, but experiences.
For months now, night after night, his sleep had become a second life. A narrative so cohesive it felt scripted.
A world disturbingly similar to his own—a society built on heroism, on power, on fear. But cracked beneath the surface. Twisted.
A world where the strong weren't protectors. They were icons. Tyrants. Gods.
Supes.
And at the heart of it all stood one man.
Blonde hair. Burning eyes. A smile beneath destruction.
"Knowing what I know about the story-like format of the dreams, this one was the last. The End. I mean, what else was there? The whole world...he watched as he basked in its destruction. All there was was...Scorched Earth." Loid muttered, echoing the dream's end.
His heart still hadn't settled.
"Laser vision. That's probably what my Quirk is," he reasoned. "Same kind as his."
He turned from the mirror. No burns in the walls. No holes in the ceiling. He'd managed to suppress it. But most notably, as he looked down to his hands, he noticed...
"No burn marks." He spoke, seeing his hands normal as if they didn't just endure point blank contact with lasers.
He was glad he didn't make a commotion and was uninjured, but there was too much he needed to know. But he needed more. He needed to know.
"I'll test it. After school. Somewhere far. Somewhere private."
He didn't hear the door creak open.
"Loid! Dude, we're late again! You up or what?"
He jumped, turning to face the doorway. A familiar face peered in—his self-proclaimed best friend: Kazuo Hoshino.
Kazuo yawned and rubbed his eyes. His usual messy dark hair was sticking up at every angle, and a pair of headphones hung around his neck. He tilted his head at Loid.
"You're usually the one dragging me out of bed. What gives?"
Loid stared a moment too long before snapping out of it. "Sorry. Just… had a weird dream."
Kazuo grinned. "Another episode of your Supe-Soap-Opera dreams? You gotta write this stuff down, man."
Loid paused. Just hearing Kazuo's voice was enough to bring him out of his manic mood and uplift his spirit as he chuckled.
"Yeah, you could say that. Now, I need to take a shower, or are you gonna watch me get undressed, gaylord."
***
The city streets bustled with early morning activity. Neon advertisements flashed across walls, hovercabs zipped down overhead rails, and the smell of fried noodles and baked goods clashed in the air.
Loid and Kazuo walked shoulder-to-shoulder, blending into the tide of commuters.
"So? What happened in dreamland this time? Anything on The Deep? You know he's my favourite. After all, he is the strongest one there too, right?" Kazuo asked, nudging him.
Loid rolled his eyes, knowing Kazuo was being sarcastic.
Loid didn't answer right away. His eyes were distant.
"I… I think it ended."
Kazuo blinked. "What, the dreams? All of 'em?"
Loid nodded. "Yeah. It's weird too. I thought after this episode of weird dreams in my life I'd be glad when it ended. It's bad enough that I'm Quirkless but now I'm the weirdo with dreams of Homelander drinking human breast milk squirting straight into his mouth?"
"Say what?" Kazuo blinked, but Loid continued, ignoring him.
"But ever since I woke up… I've felt wrong."
Kazuo grew more serious. "Wrong how?"
Loid looked at the sky. Clouds drifted lazily above the skyline.
"Like I'm missing something. Not like I lost something. More like I was born incomplete."
Kazuo went quiet. Then:
"Yeah… I get that."
Loid turned his head. "You do?"
Kazuo shoved his hands in his pockets. "You know my parents died, right?"
"Yeah. I'd heard the adults whispering about it."
Everyone had, but they usually knew better than to outright say so. But Loid didn't care, nor did Kazuo. They were close enough that things like this could fly.
"They were killed. A villain attack. Twin brother villains at that. Bastards were known for being ruthless. The heroes caught one of them—but the news? They said both were caught. The PR department didn't want panic. Said it was a clean victory. They wanted to get rid of the other before we all caught wind."
Loid stared.
"A few hours later, the other twin killed my parents."
Loid didn't say anything. He knew of their death, but this was the first time he was hearing the details from Kazuo's perspective.
Kazuo shook his head. "I'm not telling you for pity or anything. Just…when I say I know what it feels like to be incomplete, I mean it."
Loid's lips parted. But Kazuo kept going.
"That's why I want to become a hero. Straight to U.A., you see. Not to be strong. But to make the truth louder than lies. If I can use my Quirk to change the system…I will. A world with no lies, how's that sound, ay?"
Loid stared ahead.
"Maybe you're only now realising that there's something you need to do too. Or maybe something you need to become."
Kazuo said this, understanding that like himself, Loid had also lived through a tragedy of being Quirkless. He could understand if the latter had his own objective in life too.
But he had no idea how wrong he was.
'I see...'
A part of Loid thought it was the awakening of his Quirk that made him feel this way. If so, maybe this emptiness was a reaction to him finally attaining his Quirk.
Like Kazuo, a subconscious reminder of...
'Something I need to become…'
***
The crosswalk light blinked red as Loid and Kazuo waited to cross. Dozens of others stood around them—workers, students, parents with strollers.
"So, what's your grand idea on avoiding TetsuTetsu today?"
Loid shrugged. "I'm feeling like ditching school altogether today. I've got some stuff to do."
Kazuo grinned, his eyes darting between the green traffic light and Loid as they waited for the cars to halt.
"Awesome. Where are we going."
Loid shook his head. "Nope. Just me."
Kazuo looked a little hurt as he replied. "Since when. We both know you don't have a life outside the crap we get up to."
Loid rolled his eyes, sighing.
But before he could reply, it came.
BOOM
The rumble started like distant thunder.
Then came the screams.
A van burst through the side of a tower, crashing out of shattered glass like a bullet from a gun. Masked men leaned out the windows, guns slung and mouths open in manic laughter.
Loid's eyes snapped upward.
"What the hell—"
A hulking man stood on the roof of the van, arms spread, wind whipping his coat. He laughed wildly.
"If I go down… I'm taking everyone with me!"
A beat.
His palms began to vibrate—violently, uncontrollably. The pavement below them trembled. Dust shot up in tiny bursts. People shrieked.
Above, Mt. Lady, in her giant form, hurled herself off the skyscraper. Kamui Woods extended wooden tendrils from the shattered window, trying to ensnare the van mid-air.
But it was too late.
Loid's pupils narrowed.
"No way…!"
BOOM.
The ground cracked.
And then the street collapsed.