Musutafu's winter had hardened into a gray, biting cold, the kind that sank into bones and stayed. Kaito Arakawa, now six, trudged through the city's streets, his breath fogging in the dawn air. His gray sweater, patched with clumsy stitches, did little to block the wind, and the bruises from last month's art project incident throbbed faintly under his skin. The torn canvas, All Might's face split in half, haunted him, a reminder of Riku's cruelty and the world's indifference. His slingshot, tucked in his pocket, was a small rebellion, its weight a promise he clung to: he'd be a hero, quirkless or not, no matter how much it hurt.
Home offered no refuge. The apartment was a shrine to Hana, now eight and shining brighter with every quirk training session. Her trophies gleamed on the shelves, her latest—a silver flame for "Best Junior Quirk Control"—catching the morning light. Reiko was in the kitchen, packing Hana's lunch with care, apple slices cut into stars, a note tucked inside. Kaito's lunch was a bruised banana and a slice of bread in a crumpled bag, tossed onto the counter without a glance. He grabbed it silently, his amber eyes avoiding Reiko's, knowing her warmth was reserved for the daughter who burned.
"Kaito, don't be late," Reiko said, her voice clipped as she adjusted Hana's scarf. "And no more trouble at school. I'm tired of the calls." She didn't mention the art project, didn't ask about the fading bruise on his cheek. Hana, zipping her backpack, spared Kaito a glance—brief, empty, like he was a stranger sharing her space. She left for her advanced quirk class, Reiko trailing her with praise, and Kaito slipped out alone, the door's slam echoing in his chest.
Musutafu Elementary loomed ahead, its walls plastered with hero posters, All Might's grin a mocking beacon. The schoolyard buzzed with kids, their quirks flashing in the cold—snowballs levitated, ice sculptures rose, a boy turned his breath to mist. Kaito kept his head down, weaving through the crowd, but Riku's voice cut through the noise like a blade. "Quirkless! Thought you'd hide today?" The spiky-haired bully stood by the gate, Kenji and Sora at his side, their smirks a familiar threat.
Kaito's hand tightened on his backpack strap, his slingshot a secret comfort in his pocket. "I'm not hiding," he said, his voice low but steadier than before. A year of taunts had hardened something in him, a spark of defiance that flickered despite the fear.
Riku's eyes narrowed, sensing the shift. "Big talk for a nobody," he said, stepping closer. His shockwave quirk hummed, a faint ripple that made Kaito's ears buzz. "Let's see how tough you are." Before Kaito could move, Riku flicked his hand, and a shockwave slammed into his shoulder, spinning him into the snow. Pain flared, sharp and hot, and Kaito bit his lip to stifle a cry.
Kenji laughed, his stone skin glinting as he shoved Kaito deeper into the snow. "Stay down, quirkless. Heroes don't need losers." Sora mimicked Kaito's gasp, twisting it into a pathetic whine, and the other kids nearby watched, some giggling, others turning away. No one helped. No one ever did.
Kaito's vision blurred, not from tears but from rage, a fire he didn't know he had. He scrambled to his feet, snow clinging to his sweater, and glared at Riku. "I'm not a loser," he said, his voice shaking but clear. "I'll be a hero, and you'll be nothing." The words were reckless, a spark thrown into dry grass, and Riku's smirk vanished, replaced by something darker.
"You're dead, quirkless," Riku growled, raising his hand. The shockwave hit Kaito square in the chest, harder than before, sending him crashing into a metal fence. The impact stole his breath, pain exploding across his ribs, and he crumpled, the snow soaking through his clothes. Riku stepped closer, his quirk humming for another strike, but a teacher's shout stopped him.
"Riku! Enough!" Mr. Sato, a burly man with a strength quirk, stormed over, his eyes flicking between the boys. "What's going on?"
Riku shrugged, his smirk returning. "He tripped, sensei. I was just helping him up." Kenji and Sora nodded, their lies seamless, and the other kids stayed silent, their eyes on the ground.
Mr. Sato sighed, hauling Kaito to his feet. "Arakawa, go to the nurse. And stop causing trouble." His tone was tired, not angry, as if Kaito's pain was just another chore. Riku walked away, unscolded, his gang trailing him like loyal dogs.
The nurse's office was a familiar prison, its quirk safety posters a cruel irony. Kaito sat on the cot, his ribs screaming with every breath, a fresh bruise blooming on his shoulder. The nurse, her healing quirk limited to minor cuts, taped his ribs and shook her head. "You need to avoid fights, Kaito," she said, her voice soft but useless. "Kids with quirks… they're different." She didn't meet his eyes, and Kaito nodded, his throat too tight to argue.
School dragged on, Kaito moving through classes like a ghost. Ms. Tanaka's lessons blurred, her telekinesis quirk sorting papers while she ignored Kaito's hunched posture, his winces when he shifted. At lunch, he sat by the fence, his banana uneaten, the cold numbing his fingers. He pulled out his slingshot, firing pebbles at a tree, each shot closer but never perfect. The failure gnawed at him, but he kept trying, each thwack a defiance against Riku's shockwaves, against the world that saw him as nothing.
The walk home was a blur of Musutafu's hero worship. A street TV blared news of a villain attack downtown, Shockpulse—Daichi—smashing through concrete to save civilians. Kaito paused, his ribs aching, staring at his father's face on the screen. The reporter called him a hero, a savior, but to Kaito, he was a stranger who didn't care. He turned away, the slingshot heavy in his pocket, and kept walking.
At the apartment, Reiko was on the phone, gushing about Hana's latest training. "She's a prodigy," she said, oblivious to Kaito's limping entrance, his sweater soaked with snow. He tried to slip to his corner, but Reiko's voice stopped him, sharp as a whip.
"What now?" she demanded, hanging up. Her eyes raked over his bruised shoulder, the tape peeking from his collar. "Another fight? The school called again, Kaito. They said you were disrupting class."
Kaito's ribs pulsed, his voice barely audible. "I didn't fight. Riku hit me. I was just… standing there." He wanted her to care, to ask if he was okay, but Reiko's face twisted, a mix of anger and shame.
"You're always the problem," she said, her voice low but cutting. "Hana never gets in trouble. She's out there making us proud, and you're dragging us down. Stay out of sight, Kaito, or I swear…" She didn't finish, but her eyes said enough—disgust, disappointment, a wish he wasn't hers. She turned away, leaving Kaito trembling in the doorway.
Hana walked in, her training uniform singed, her smile bright. "Mom, the coach said I'm ready for the regional showcase!" she said, and Reiko's face lit up, her arms wrapping around her daughter. Kaito watched, invisible, his heart a knot of pain and want. Hana didn't look at him, didn't ask about the tape on his shoulder. She never did.
In his corner, Kaito pulled out his shoebox of scraps—wires, a bent fork, a spring from a broken toy. His hands shook as he worked, twisting the spring into a new gadget, a crude grappling hook tied to a spool of thread. It was flimsy, snapping when he tugged too hard, but he didn't stop. Each failure was a lesson, each twist a fight against the world that rejected him. His tablet flickered on, its battery gasping, and All Might's voice roared, saving a train from a villain. "No matter how dark it gets, keep pushing forward!"
Kaito's eyes burned, but he swallowed the tears. He fired his slingshot at the wall, the pebble hitting dead center this time, a small triumph in a sea of losses. "I'll be a hero," he whispered, his voice fierce, sharpened by every bruise, every rejection. "I'll make them regret ignoring me." The city's hum answered with its endless drone, and Kaito worked into the night, piecing together broken things, unaware of the threads fate was weaving—a spider, a girl, a world that would demand his everything.
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A/N: Go check out my other MHA stories!
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Chapters ahead: 5