Ever since he was a child, Kazuki Hayate had wanted to be a hero.
He didn't want to be just any hero, but the kind that made people feel safe, one who could stop crying with nothing more than a smile. He had watched All Might on TV, mesmerized by the way his grin never faded, even when buildings crumbled around him.
I AM HERE
Those simple words that anyone could cling to when everything was both literally and figuratively falling apart. Every hero worth their money had a catchphrase, but Kazuki didn't have one just yet.
Back in elementary school, Kazuki had been a victim of his own imagination with a terminal case of chuunibyou. While other kids were trying to look "cool," he was busy perfecting a gesture he genuinely thought would radiate "awesomeness".
It was just a finger gun.
At the time, he'd convinced himself it was a " symbol" that could inspire courage. He'd practiced it on his little brother, who usually just stared at him until Kazuki promised to buy him ice cream. If a simple point-and-wink could make a toddler stop crying, surely it could save the world, right?
In front of the bathroom mirror, Kazuki Hayate was engaged in his most grueling hero training yet: The Smile.
"Too stiff," he muttered, adjusting his jaw. Now he looked like he was passing a kidney stone. "Too loose." Now he looked like he was about to demand protection money from a local orphanage.
He was aiming for the "All Might Classic." The kind of grin that promised a cat's safe return from a tree. Instead, his reflection kept spitting back the image of a cold-blooded enforcer contemplating a hit.
Behind him, the shower curtain fluttered violently, sucked toward his back by an invisible force. He ignored it.
It was just a draft, specifically a localized vacuum caused by his own lungs accidentally inhaling three times the volume of a normal human.
This, unfortunately, was not a metaphor.
Kazuki Hayate's quirk was the reason teachers had banned him from sitting near open windows, loose papers, or, in one memorable incident, the school hamster. His body did not breathe air so much as it processed it.
Officially, his quirk was classified as an emitter-type and listed in the registry under the name Pneumatic. A name that sounded much cleaner and more responsible than "that kid who keeps depressurizing rooms by accident."
His lungs drew air in.
Compressed it.
Stored it.
Muscles reinforced themselves instinctively to withstand the pressure. Channels formed along his chest, arms, and spine which became natural conduits that let him redirect compressed air through his body before expelling it in controlled bursts.
All in theory of course.
Musutafu City was awake. Quirks flared around him like fireworks that no one bothered to look up for anymore. A man's arms turned translucent as he reached across the street to grab a coffee he'd forgotten. A woman hovered a few centimeters above the pavement while arguing on her phone, her shadow pacing in irritated circles beneath her. Somewhere nearby, a child sneezed and accidentally painted a mailbox pink.
No one cared. As long as nothing exploded life went on.
Kazuki walked with easy strides, breathing deeply the way his quirk training had drilled into him so thoroughly it no longer felt like training. He liked how calm it made him feel. Focused. Ready. Occasionally, light debris shifted when he passed. Leaves rolled. Loose flyers lifted, hesitated, and then committed to the bit. But Musutafu was windy anyway. Windy cities happened all the time. Windy teenagers were, apparently, still within acceptable margins.
At Musutafu Municipal Middle School No. 3, the halls buzzed with the usual controlled chaos. Lockers slammed. Sparks flew from a boy's fingers when he laughed too hard. Someone's tail knocked over a chair and pretended not to notice. A girl with stone-like skin navigated the hallway with the careful precision of someone who had learned the hard way that corners always won.
Kazuki smiled at the people he passed.
Some smiled back.
Some froze for half a second, like mice realizing the room had gotten very quiet. Then they smiled too quickly, too wide, as if their faces were trying to file a complaint.
Kazuki frowned, tilting his head.
Maybe they're just tired, he thought. Early mornings made people weird sometimes.
After lunch, he got called on to return paperwork to the faculty office. Boring tasks, maybe, but heroes didn't just show up when the big explosions happened. Heroes noticed the small problems too.
The raised voices came first, cutting through the hum of the gym.
Kazuki's stomach tightened. He turned the corner just in time to see three older students pressing a younger boy against the side of the equipment shed. One gripped the boy's collar. The others stood close, radiating the kind of confidence that came from being bigger, louder, and extremely convinced of their own importance. Tiny flickers of water trembled at the younger boy's fingertips, shaking like a candle about to go out.
Kazuki's pulse quickened, shoulders tightening as he took in the scene.
"Hey," he said, stepping forward.
The word landed harder than it should have.
All four heads snapped toward him.
The tallest boy cracked his knuckles, sparks crawling lazily over his skin. He smirked, clearly pleased with himself.
"You've got some nerve," he said. "Interrupting us."
Wow, Kazuki thought. He really said that out loud.
The boy gripping the collar tightened his hold, claws sliding partway out of his fingers. "This doesn't concern you," he added, tone sharp and rehearsed. "Walk away while you still can."
Kazuki blinked.
For half a terrifying second, his brain supplied an image of flowing robes, a jade pendant, and someone calling him Junior in a very threatening way.
Thank god I stopped reading those cultivation novels, he thought. Otherwise this would be the part where I don't recognize Mount Tai.
Kazuki tilted his head. "What if I don't want to walk away?"
The spark-user laughed. It sounded forced. Heat prickled along his skin and a cold weight settled in his chest. His quirk surged, but he could not step closer.
The last boy, a lizard mutant, shifted uneasily. He could feel his muscles stiffen, his own body straining under something invisible. The presence of Kazuki pressed into his mind and body, though he had no idea why. This was supposed to be his territory. He could see the others hesitating and realized the same thing was happening to them. Fear mixed with confusion.
Kazuki's breathing was slow and steady. The air around him seemed to hum, dust lifting faintly at their feet. Instinct took over and the atmosphere felt heavier.
The bullies faltered. One of them blinked and stumbled back. Sparks dimmed and the mutant's claws retreated fully. Within a moment, all three ran.
No insults. No calling out for their elders. No vows of revenge that would definitely return in three chapters. Just gone.
Kazuki exhaled. He looked at the smaller boy, who blinked rapidly. "Are you okay?"
"Y-Yes. Thank you." The boy nodded and bolted before Kazuki could say more.
Kazuki rubbed the back of his neck, puzzled. Maybe he's just shy.
—--------------------
Over the next few days, Kazuki began noticing patterns he didn't quite understand. Students whispered when he walked by, though he assumed they were discussing homework. Groups parted just a little too quickly in the hallways, which he figured was common courtesy. A first-year dropped his notebook twice in one day and apologized before Kazuki could speak, probably just a clumsy kid.
He attributed it to early-morning jitters, weird atmospheric pressure, Mercury being in retrograde, anything but the truth: he was accidentally intimidating everyone without realizing it.
Then Takeshi Yamada started sitting beside him at lunch.
A rhino mutant in the same calculus class as him. Loud, blunt, built like a small tank, and with the temperament of someone who'd argue with a vending machine.
His mutant quirk gave him massive strength, thickened gray skin, and a body designed for tackling things that really shouldn't be tackled. Teachers kept a very careful watch whenever he was near fragile objects (or fragile students), and most people gave him a wide berth, unsure how to handle someone whose solution to most problems involved charging headfirst.
Kazuki, however, saw someone who needed guidance, not fear. Also, Takeshi had already sat down and unpacked a truly alarming amount of food from his bento, so it seemed rude to move.
Takeshi complained about everything. School was boring. Tests were stupid. Teachers expected him to fail. The cafeteria kept running out of the good curry. His desk was too small. That guy over there was looking at him weird. The world seemed to assume he was trouble before he'd done anything, which was totally unfair because he'd only broken three things this week, and one of those was already cracked.
Kazuki listened with his usual steady gaze, firm posture, and hands relaxed on the table, giving the distinct impression of a guidance counselor who'd heard it all before.
"And then, and then," Takeshi continued, gesturing so wildly his tray nearly launched into orbit, "Kobayashi-sensei said I need to 'apply myself' and I was like, I'm trying, but calculus is a scam."
He slammed his fist down for emphasis.
The entire table rattled. His milk carton tipped over. A nearby student yelped and dropped their chopsticks.
Kazuki calmly reached out and placed a hand lightly on Takeshi's shoulder. "Failing doesn't define you," he said with quiet conviction. "What matters is what you do next."
Takeshi froze mid-rant.
His mouth hung open, a half-chewed piece of katsu visible inside. His horned forehead tilted slightly toward Kazuki's hand. That feeling. The pressure that made his muscles tense involuntarily, made his quirk strain like it was trying to figure out whether to fight or submit. It wasn't frightening. It was weirdly comforting? Like being patted on the head by someone who could absolutely break your kneecaps but chose not to?
He swallowed hard. Nodded once, almost imperceptibly. His voice came out smaller than he'd ever heard it. "Yeah I'll try."
Kazuki smiled warmly, gave his shoulder an encouraging pat, and went back to eating his rice.
Takeshi stared at his tray, feeling oddly emotional and not entirely sure why.
Oh my god, he thought, eyes widening as the pieces clicked together.
The calm demeanor. The quiet authority. The way people moved out of his way in the halls. The pressure that felt like standing in front of someone important. The hand on the shoulder.
This guy's yakuza.
Takeshi had read way too much yakuza manga. He knew the tropes.
The young heir trying to go straight. The reluctant boss who spoke softly but carried a big stick. The "civilian life" that was definitely a cover for something. And that thing he did with the atmosphere? Classic move. In Raging Dragon Chronicles, the Seventh Chairman had the exact same move. "Intimidation without words," they called it. "The mark of a true patriarch."
Holy shit. He'd accidentally sat next to a mob boss.
And the mob boss just gave him life advice.
Takeshi's voice cracked. "Did you just take me under your wing?"
"What?" Kazuki looked up, confused, a grain of rice stuck to his cheek.
"Nothing." Takeshi stuffed an entire rice ball in his mouth to avoid elaborating, but inside, his brain was sprinting through every yakuza plot he'd ever read.
This was it. This was his origin story. The delinquent taken in by the mysterious student with connections. Next thing he knew, he'd be collecting protection money from the vending machines and calling Kazuki "aniki."
Wait, no. Heroes didn't do that. Kazuki was obviously trying to reform. That's why he was at a regular middle school, lying low, learning to smile like a normal person instead of someone calculating interest rates.
It all made sense now.
Across the cafeteria, a group of third-years watched the interaction with wide eyes.
"He just befriended Yamada," one whispered.
"With a hand pat."
"Do not making eye contact with either of them for the rest of the semester."
"Smart idea."
Takeshi sat very still, chewing slowly, trying to project an aura of "loyal subordinate" while also wondering if this meant he had to start wearing a suit to english class.
Kazuki, oblivious, offered him a napkin. "You've got curry on your chin."
"Thank you, boss," Takeshi blurted out, then immediately wanted to crawl under the table.
Kazuki blinked. "Boss?"
"NOTHING. YOU'RE NOT MY BOSS. I MEAN, YOU COULD BE. IF YOU WANTED. BUT YOU'RE NOT. " Takeshi was making it worse. He shoved another rice ball in his mouth.
Kazuki smiled, assuming this was just another normal teenager in his chuuni phase, and went back to his lunch.
Takeshi made a mental note to start practicing his bowing. Just in case.
A/N: This is a rewrite of an idea I had previously. This is more of a comedy/misunderstanding story than an edgy gritty one that I often see in MHA. Hope you guys enjoy the read! Updates should be frequent and chapter length is around 2k.
Thanks for reading :)