The Arakawa home was a sanctuary of warmth and comfort, All Might didn't know what he was expecting. The exterior was modern yet inviting, with clean lines and large windows that let in streams of natural light. The front yard was meticulously maintained, with a small garden of blooming flowers and a neatly trimmed lawn.
Inside the house was a reflection the matriarch's nurturing spirit—cozy, lived-in, and filled with the subtle touches of a mother's care. Kasumi Arakawa was her name. The walls of her home were decorated with framed photographs, her children were in many of them, carefree and with radiant smiles—birthdays, school events and holidays.
The air of the room carried a faint scent of lavender and freshly baked bread, a testament to Kasumi's love for creating a welcoming environment.
All Might stood in the doorway, his massive frame feeling almost out of place in the homely setting. Beside him, Gran Torino and Hideaki Kurogami waited, their expressions somber. Kasumi had opened the door, her soft brown eyes were wide with surprise at the sight of the Symbol of Peace, All Might also recognized fear and worry.
Her hands fluttered nervously to her chest, and she immediately began to apologize, her voice trembling.
"Oh my, All Might, I—I'm sorry for the trouble my son has been causing. I didn't raise him to be like this."
All Might raised his hand gently, his deep voice calm but firm. "Mrs Arakawa, please, there's no need to apologize. We're not here about any crimes. We're here to talk about Kobe though."
She looked between the three men, her expression a mixture of confusion and dread. For a moment, she seemed to hesitate, her demure nature warring with her maternal instincts. Finally, she stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.
"Please, come in." she said softly.
The living room was just as inviting as the rest of the house. A plush sofa sat in the center, flanked by armchairs and a low coffee table adorned with a vase of fresh flowers. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with novels, photo albums, and small trinkets. A family portrait hung above the fireplace, capturing the Arakawa's in happier times.
Before anyone could speak, the sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase. Yuki descended, her expression a mix of curiosity and wariness. She was dressed casually, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, but her tired eyes betrayed the strain she had been under. Her gaze flickered between the people in the room, she had a look of surprise when she had seen All Might.
"Mom?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern. "What's going on?"
Kasumi turned to her daughter, her hands wringing nervously. "Yuki, these heroes... they're here to talk about Kobe."
Yuki's eyes narrowed slightly, "Speak about what exactly? His punishment? Are you just telling us pre-emptively?"
"No." Gran Torino interjected. "Hideaki actually has something to tell you two about that correctional facility he was sent to."
The room grew tense, there was anticipation in the air. Hideaki stepped forward, his broad shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the world. His voice was heavy with regret as he began to speak.
"My name is Hideaki Kurogami. I'm... I am partially responsible for a program that your brother was sent to. The correctional facility was a front, it was actually a facility meant to bread heroes, it was called the Eden Project."
Hideaki took a deep breath, his hands clenched at his sides. "We took children and turned them into weapons. They experimented on them, trained them, broke them down until there was nothing left."
Hideaki dove into more of what the Eden Project was about, he didn't reveal some of what he believed was things that were too gruesome to hear, but he had gotten his point across.
Yuki's eyes widened, her strained smile faltering. "What are you talking about? Kobe was just a spoiled brat who got sent away because he couldn't behave. He made up this crap to get out of trouble. He's always been like that, never taking responsibility, never admitting when he's wrong."
Hideaki shook his head, his firm voice sounded hurt. "No. It's not a story. The Eden Project was real. What I just explained happened to him... it was real."
Yuki's voice trembled, her hands clenching into fists. "Then why did he come home at fourteen instead of twelve like when you said it ended? Where was he for those two years?"
Hideaki's gaze dropped, this was news to him as well as the heroes in the room. But considering what many of the other subjects had gotten up to they could make a few guesses.
"We don't know."
Yuki's breath hitched, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She shook her head, her voice shaky but defiant. "No. no, this is bullshit. Kobe wouldn't just let something like that happen to him."
Kasumi's tears began to flow, her hands covering her mouth as she stifled a sob. "I knew something was wrong," she whispered, her voice breaking. "They wouldn't let me visit him. They wouldn't let me call. The letters... they were so short and so cold, I thought he was just angry but—" she broke down, "I should have known. I should have tried harder."
Yuki turned to her mother, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief. "Mom, you can't seriously believe this? Kobe's been a liar. He's always been—"
"Enough Yuki!" Kasumi's voice was so sharp the people in the room thought she were another person. "Stop blaming your brother. He has been out there in pain for too long."
All Might could see that the eldest child wasn't saying anything she was saying out of spite or hate, she just seemed like she was coping.
Yuki's defiance crumbled, her shoulders slumping as tears spilled down her cheeks. She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "No... no, this can't be true."
Kasumi sank onto the sofa, her hands trembling as she reached for a framed photograph on the coffee table. It was a picture of Kobe as a child, his hair shorter, his light brown eyes almost golden in the sunlight. His smile was radiant, carefree and full of life... it was so different compared to the boy that returned to her home years later, quiet, distant and broken.
"I should have known," Kasumi whispered, her voice filled with anguish. "When he came back, he wasn't the same. He was so quiet, so... empty. He didn't laugh anymore. He didn't smile. He just... existed. And I didn't know how to fix it. I didn't know how to bring my boy back."
Her tears fell freely now, her voice trembling as she continued. "I sent him away because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought he needed help. But I didn't know... I didn't know they would take him from me. They took my baby boy, they broke him. And I let them."
All Might and Gran Torino bowed their heads, their expressions heavy with sorrow. Hideaki stepped forward, his voice filled with regret. "Ms. Arakawa, this isn't your fault. We didn't know. But now that we do we will make sure everything will return back to what is right."
Kasumi shook her head, her voice breaking. "Its too late. Things won't go back to how they were. That's not how it goes. I was too weak. I sent him away."
Her voice was soft, almost poetic as she continued speaking through the tears, speaking as though she were the only one in the room. "How can I ask for forgiveness? How can I ever make this right? My baby boy... my sweet, radiant boy... they took him from me. They took his light, his laughter, his joy. And I didn't even notice until it was too late."
She clutched the photograph to her chest, her sobs shaking her entire body. "I just want him back. I want my baby boy. I want to see him smile again. I want to hear him laugh. I want to hold him and tell him how sorry I am. How much I love him. How much I've always loved him."
The room was silent, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. All Might stepped forward, his voice gentle but filled with resolve. "Mrs. Arakawa, we're going to bring him home. He's working with us in a roundabout way which we cannot explain. But we will make sure he is safe."
Kasumi looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and despair. "Do you think he can ever forgive me?"
All Might didn't answer. He couldn't, he never even spoke to the boy, Gran Torino never had a conversation about the child's feelings towards his mother or anything and Hideaki once only viewed him as a potential hero subject so he doubts a good answer could come from the man.
They watched as the woman sat in silence, her tears still spilling as she clung to the photograph. Hideaki stood awkwardly, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. All Might and Gran Torino exchanged a glance before bowing their heads once more.
"We're deeply sorry for everything you've been through," All Might said, his voice filled with sincerity. "We'll do everything in our power to make this right."
With that, they turned and left. The weight of the Arakawa family's pain lingering in the air long after they were gone.
***
The rooftop was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavy, like the world was holding its breath. The sky above was a deep, inky black, dotted with faint stars that struggled to pierce through the light pollution of the city below.
I lay on my back, my hands tucked behind my back staring up at the sky. The cool night air brushed against my skin, carrying with it the faint hum of the city—distant car horns, the occasional shout, the rhythmic thrum of life continuing despite everything.
The tips of my hair were now dyed a soft brown, they caught the faint glow of a nearby streetlight. I hadn't done it for any particular reason. I just wanted a change. I didn't think much of it, but Nagant did.
"The brown suits you," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. She stepped onto the rooftop, her boots clicking softly against the concrete. "Its subtle. Fits your whole mysterious vibe."
I didn't move, my gaze still fixed on the stars. "Thanks," I said simply, my voice was low and uneven.
Nagant walked over and sat down beside me, her legs dangling over the edge of the roof. She leaned back on her hands, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon. For a moment, we sat in silence.
"The attacks coming soon," Nagant said finally, her tone casual but laced with something heavier. "I don't even know how to feel about it. I'm just... going along with it, I guess."
I turned my head slightly, my eyes flicking toward her. "That's the wrong way to go about it," I said, my voice calm but firm. "If you go into something like this without intention, all you'll get is sorrow, misery and a deeper fracture in how you see the world. You'll regret it later."
Nagant glanced over at me, her brow furrowing slightly. "Crying about a bad situation is inevitable. You can't avoid that."
"I know," I said, my gaze returning to the sky. "But my point still stands. Be intentional. Make your choices with clarity. That way, even if you cry later, you'll know you did what you had to do."
Nagant let out a soft sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Why are you so wise?"
I didn't respond. My mind felt groggy, like it was drifting through a fog of numbness that had settled on me. I wasn't sure why, but I just felt gloomier than usual, I think she could see that.
It just felt like a heavy, hollow feeling that had been growing in my chest. I felt... less alive, less present, less like myself.
"I don't know," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just feel... numb. More than usual."
Nagant laughed softly, the sound tinged with bitterness. "When haven't you?"
I chuckled faintly, the sound dry and humourless. "Fair point."
I thought about it for a moment, my mind drifting back to the Eden Project. Since then, there had been very few moments where I'd felt genuine emotion—real, positive emotion. Glee, love, happiness... those things felt foreign to me, like relics from a life I'd left behind. The closest I had come to that was during the Hosu Game, travelling with Yui. Those moments had been... different. Light, in a way I hadn't felt in years.
But now, thinking about her, about how she was really gone, it felt strange. Unreal. I'd never had someone close to me die. The sorrow was there, deep and heavy, but it was trapped inside me, unable to surface. I hated it. Hated that I couldn't cry, couldn't scream, couldn't do anything but feel it festering in my chest.
"Everything feels darker since Daigo Kiyoshi revealed himself." Nagant said, and she was right, it didn't matter how dead the man was, he left his impact. "What we're about to do on Hero's Eve... its only going to make it worse."
I turned my head to look at her, my expression calm but serious. "That's why we need to be intentional," I said. "We can't just go through the motions. We have to own what we're doing, even if its ugly. Even if it hurts."
Nagant met my gaze, her sharp eyes searching my face. For a moment, she said nothing, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire. Then, I sat up, my movements slow and deliberate. I glanced around, though I already knew no one was listening. Still, I leaned closer to Nagant, my voice dropping to a whisper.
"I need you to do something for me," I said. "During the attack... I need you to kill Koku."
Nagant's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't pull away. "Koku? Why?"
I wasn't going to explain the reason, it was something she would figure out on her own. But for me, I did want to handle it on my own, but I guess my mind had another plan out for me.
Nagant studied me for a long moment, her expression was unreadable. My mind was hazy, I don't know why, but it feels like I'm in a constant state of grief. My heart raced the longer I stared at her. It was uncomfortable but I welcomed it, I wanted to know what was going on...
"Alright. I'll get it done." She said. As she said that, the tension left my body. Something was lost.
I leaned back, my shoulders were relaxed. "Good."
We sat in silence for a while. The city below continued to hum, oblivious to the storm brewing on the horizon. I glanced at my phone, the date was staring back at me: November 30th.
"We're entering a new stage of plight now."
I laid back down, my hands returning back to their place behind my head. The stars above seemed dimmer now, their light struggling to reach me through the haze of my thoughts. I closed my eyes, letting the cool night air wash over me. For a moment I allowed myself to feel the weight of everything—the sorrow, the numbness and whatever else was allowing me to keep moving forward.
24 days until Hero's Eve: