Chapter Text
“No… Yes.”
9-1 Minamicho, Suruga Ward, Musutafu.
In a storage room of a 7-Eleven, Takeshi was surrounded by unpacked boxes and plastic carts filled with instant noodles and soft drinks, but he’ll get to that later tomorrow. He reads the headline “Quirked Species Discovered” in his hand, something about glowing jellyfish that also fly and float in the air. It’s a recent discovery for the news, and the paper goes on about giving the guy who found them a reward: “A new step for the world of science, the next evolution of quirks,” and all that dramatic hullabaloo.
If you ask him, why haven’t quirked animals become the norm yet? If it did for humans, why didn’t the animals? But he’s not a scientist; he’s a broke college student working part-time at a 7-Eleven, just trying to get by and not die in a villain attack.
“I’m fine, Nana… yeah, no trouble, still got my savings…” he mumbled into his phone, sandwiched between his ear and shoulder.
The following page was the hero side of things: new hero Weather Girl made her debut; drug dealers arrested; hero stopped a bank robbery; building collapsed from a villain-hero fight; escaped villain in Tokyo; and so on.
He nodded along to what his Nana said next. “Right… You don’t have to tell me twice…” But not the next after that. “And I am old enough to drink,” he reminded her, lifting his head from the newspaper as if to eye her—an imagined astral projection of her which clings to him across the country out of sheer will—incredulously.
[Crrrrsk—]
He physically recoiled from the shrilling noise from his phone, barely catching it as it slipped out of his hand. “Aish! No, woman! I didn’t start going to clubs! No, I’m not gambling either! My friends are fine!”
Takeshi rolled his eyes at his Nana’s “concerns,” one of which involved his friends taking him to clubs and him becoming an alcoholic and/or addict.
The more she talked, the more nonsensical it got, getting to where his “girlfriend” (note: he does not have a girlfriend) was a secret villain who got him to “accidentally join a villain gang,” after which he then had to “quit university, change his identity, cut all contact with his Nana and sisters, and waste away on the streets, living his new life of crime, wondering where it all went wrong.”
Because suuuuure.
He doesn’t interrupt her as she continues her imagined stories of his life and future, all as ridiculous and far-fetched as the last, and suspiciously similar to that soap opera she likes to watch late at night.
Still listening like the good grandchild he is, he put down the newspaper and made his way to take out the trash. He moved his phone to his other hand as he hefted up the large trash bag leaning against the side of a sad, grey wall and walked out the back door, down the little steps into a dingy back alley illuminated by a lone, ever-flickering wall lamp. Below the lamp, a filthy old dumpster sat against the worn back wall of the store. The alley mirrored the filth with cracked walls and pavement covered in grime, mold, and litter.
Takeshi dropped the bag at his feet to free a hand, and as he lifted the lid of the bin—
Clangs.
He whipped behind him.
A couple of cans and bottles rolled on the ground.
Takeshi drew in a deep breath. Rats. Maybe. But who knows? It could be something else. He’s no stranger to them.
After pushing the lid up and leaving it leaning against the wall, doing so without taking his eyes off the view of the alley, Takeshi pulled his phone away from his ear and tilted the mic toward his lips. “Hey, Nana? I’m going to have to call you back.”
And with that, he shut his phone with a single click, cutting his Nana off mid-word. She’ll get on his back for that—via that astral projection, maybe, or 50 missed calls—but he’ll deal with that when he’s sure he won’t die tonight.
The alley’s narrow and dim, with shadowed cracks and tighter passages between buildings, leaving him both trapped and exposed—blind spots all around, and the only other lamp was half a block ahead. The buildings themselves weren’t lined up evenly. Some jutted out, while others were pulled back, creating a crooked lane. It was the same for the blocks stacked above them, with their small balconies, dark windows, and a few shingled roofs.
As far as Takeshi could see, he couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary outside of the usual ominousness of dark alleys. However, he soon heard...
A jingle?
Takeshi turned away, hunching slightly to conceal his hand as he brought it up to his face. He felt the faint warmth begin to emanate from his palm, an orange glow growing beneath his skin. It was a fairly weak quirk, but most definitely useful—not only in the dark, but also for a quick flashbang in a tight spot.
With his quirk ready, it took a moment, but—there. The jingle sounded like a giggle. Or maybe a chuckle. It wasn't unsettling at all. The opposite, really. It reminded him of those fairy movies his sisters liked so much.
So, it hit him.
The light in Takeshi's hand faded as it dropped to his side, tension ebbing away with the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He bent down, grabbed, and tossed the bag into the bin in one smooth swing, the lid closing on its own from the force of the bag shaking the bin.
It was a kid. A most definitely bored kid trying to pull a prank on him, and he knew it was a kid because he'd seen this trick more than a hundred times over. The jingles were new, but you could chalk that up to a quirk.
And so, like those past hundred times he'd done this, he rocked back onto his heels, slipping both hands into the pockets of his stained apron, and as dramatically as he could, he hollered out: “Well! That's that for tonight~! I'd better start heading home! Got a biiiiiig exam tomorrow~! I need to rest up!”
(It wasn't a lie. He'd been studying all day with his notes and textbooks open under the counter.)
Peeking around, he continued, his voice dropping a few notches but still dramatic. “Hopefully, there isn't anyone trying to scare me...” But nothing came. He'd of course pretend to be surprised so they wouldn't feel disappointed, but no tiny being appeared in his sight.
Figures.
With resigned acceptance, Takeshi crossed his arms and dropped his head, waiting for the inevitable high-pitched boo! that was most likely coming from behind him.
So, he waited.
And waited...
...a minute passed...
...two...
...
It was quiet, even as he strained his ears for any giggling or footsteps, hearing only the wind and the occasional clicks from the flickering lamp.
The thing about waiting is that you can really feel the seconds go by, and tonight was one of those nights when the city was exceedingly quiet. The silence was beginning to get to him. The time and place, too. The neighborhood wasn't bad. This part of Musutafu had a decently low crime rate. He'd done that homework beforehand—he had to if he wanted to convince his Nana to let him move out.
Takeshi continued to wait, growing more concerned with each passing second. His eyes darted around as he shifted his gaze from corner to corner, and soon enough, he was tapping an anxious finger against his arm.
The third minute passed, and he thought he’d waited long enough. Who knows what could happen? It's an alley in the middle of the night, just fifteen minutes before the next morning. A villain, a thief, someone high, wasted, and/or violent—anyone could show up if you're unlucky enough, and Takeshi hadn't had the best week.
As soon as the thought came, he turned his foot awkwardly behind the other—
Two pupilless white eyes appeared, glowing behind a monstrous stone face, with arms raised above its head and inky black digits curled threateningly close to his.
Takeshi stumbled. A loud bang echoed as his back slammed against the metal bin. He doesn’t even wince as he hits the ground. His eyes snapped up, and his heart leaped into his throat, freezing with a rising dread as the being loomed, casting a shadow over him.
Bright hot white and haunting ambers peered down at him through the flickering darkness—and then—
It laughed.
Jolly. Hearty. Melodious laughter bounced off the walls. A hooting belly laugh as the kid—he guessed right—doubled over, slapping their knee in a mirthful melody.
Charming.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, get it out of your system, why don't you...” he grumbled, shifting and rubbing his back and rear.
Tired and unbothered to stand up, Takeshi opted to shuffle himself into a more comfortable position, still leaning against the bin. He angled his head as he coolly took the kid in. If he were to describe the kid in one word and one word only, that word would be strange. In two words, very strange.
The first thing that grabbed his attention was light. The kid was quite literally glowing like a nightlight—from the pure white of their hair to the warm glow beneath their skin. The stone face was, in fact, a mask: worn, cracked, and slanted, missing a large chunk from its forehead and bearing a jagged fracture that ran across from the left eye down to the right cheek. The kid wore a maroon cape trimmed with white fur, and a staff was strapped to their back.
Takeshi heard a honk. A honk?
A small hand held itself out to his face.
Staring at the glow beneath the greyish hue of the kid’s skin, the soft light looked almost a pale yellow. Their skin appeared extremely smooth, without a single bump or blemish. It looked... fake, honestly.
Honk-honk.
Takeshi’s focus darted back up to the kid, who stared at him with bright, bright eyes. Their hand bounced insistently.
Wrapping his hand around the kid’s, engulfing the tiny hand, it felt. So very smooth. And. So very soft. Warm too—it felt like holding a good hand-warmer.
In less than a second, he was back on his feet.
Takeshi blinked, dazed. He looked down at the kid now that they had let go, and felt a good, solid smack against his palm. The kid hummed, satisfied.
...Huh.
“So, what are you doing out here? It’s pretty—well, very late out right now. Shouldn’t you be at home?” he asked, looking around the alley for one or two particularly frantic adults. The kid said nothing, however. Or nothing he could understand, that is.
Honk-honk.
Takeshi nodded, because what the hell else was he supposed to do?
“Can you, uh, speak? Normally?”
He winced.
There... may have been better ways to phrase that. Nevertheless, all he got was another string of honks.
Right. Strange, weird, glowing kid in costume with a strength quirk and honks. Weird combination, but alright. And it’s common for kids to dress up as their favorite heroes. Or dress up in general. This particular outfit didn’t ring any bells, but if he had to guess, maybe a... folkish... spirit... yokai? The closest hero he could think of was maybe Snipe. He doubted it by half—the kid had the hair, but they weren’t an American cowboy. Though if it was. Great taste.
“Are you lost?” he tried again, his voice carrying a slight lilt. Not exactly the baby voice, but gentle enough. The kid, however, propped their hands onto their hips and continued honking insistently at him.
Was the kid talking to him? In... bird speech? They didn’t seem to notice—or care about—the very confused expression on his face. They wound up their arm, still honking (talking?), and brought a finger up, which Takeshi confidently recognized as the wait or give me a second gesture.
Not long after, they proudly presented...
A candle.
The kid dropped to one knee and held the candle up toward Takeshi. What followed was a ta-da! twinkle-like jingle. To any outsider watching, it would look to them as though a child were proposing to Takeshi with a candle in the dead of night.
...
He shouldn’t mind this.
No, really.
As the neighborhood babysitter back home, dealing with his sisters and their friends, Takeshi had met all kinds of kids. Loud ones, quiet ones, screechy ones, nice ones, mean ones, criers, ankle-biters, literal ankle-biters, general biters. You name it.
Kids say and do all kinds of weird things. Takeshi had been proposed to by two. Given the role of “the cheating wife.” Took part in a “séance” as the “virgin sacrifice.” Had another threaten to kill him in his sleep.
Kids are weird.
(...Does that candle have a heart-shaped halo—?)
Mechanically, he took the candle into his hands. At the inadvertent acceptance, the kid hopped back onto their feet—springing a gawking five feet into the air like a ball in water before floating back down all fairy-like. They honked once, then waited.
Waited for what?
The kid was looking at him expectantly. Not that the kid looked it—what was there to read from a mask? Takeshi felt like they were staring at him expectantly. Or giving him the dead-silent kind of stare that made you shift uncomfortably.
It would be really nice if the kid’s parents could magically appear right about now. Or descend from the sky, considering the kid’s apparent flight quirk of some kind. (Or it could be a gravity quirk; that’d make the strength part make sense).
Taking a guess, he lifted the candle. “Thank you?”
There was a moment.
Then the kid wilted.
Their head hung low like a wilted daisy as a sad, sad, disappointed tune played, and the kid turned to sway away- wait—
A noise hitched out of him as he lurched forward, shoving the candle into his apron. He stretched out an arm and grabbed the kid by the shoulders.
That’s a kid. A glowing, honking, possibly six-year-old kid who doesn’t speak, walking alone in the middle of the night. And Takeshi was not an irresponsible or terrible human being.
He turned them toward him and bent awkwardly at the waist, knees bending as well. He blinked at the brightness of their eyes and mustered a smile.
“Going out alone at night, especially for a kid? Not a good idea. How about I call your parents? Do you remember their numbers? Names?” They don’t talk, dumbass. “How about I take you home? Accompany you, that is—” Did that make him sound like a creep? “—or I could take you to a nice policeman? No problem. I can call them first, give them a heads-up. Or we can wait until they arrive?”
Does the kid even understand him? No way he was leaving them alone. If something happened to the kid, his conscience would eat him alive and he’d blame himself for the rest of his life.
Whether he would or not, however, he’d never know, because before he could see how the kid replied—if they replied at all—he caught sight of another white-haired, glowing child out of the corner of his eye. Mask, cape, and all. This one was hurtling straight toward them.
Takeshi’s reflexes had him jumping out of the way, but the new kid wasn’t hurling themself at him.
With a tackle and a tumble, the two shot off into the night sky and, side by side, held hands as they grew smaller and smaller until they were whisked away into the dark, gone as quickly as they came.
For a moment, Takeshi thought he was dreaming.
He was not. He has a very good memory of today.
Takeshi took a moment to gather his thoughts, sent out a silent prayer to his Nana, then dialed a number.
“Hello? I’d like to report two possibly lost kids?”
[2706 words]