Chapter Text
You learn many things by the time you get to 30.
Kusuo had learned that he liked to keep his hair a little longer than he did as a kid. He learned that putting too much sugar in his coffee gave him headaches. He learned that having friends is a good thing and that they would, in fact, accept him for who he was.
Most glaringly right now, he had learned that his body was also subject to similar wear and tear with age as average people.
30 isn’t even old, but keeping so much tension in his body for the past three decades had left him with some stiffness and aches. It’s hard to keep thinking that you’re invincible when it hurts your knees to squat to reach things on the bottom shelf at the grocery store.
This was quite the departure from his teenage self blaming everything his body did on his psychic abilities.
Kusuo laughed a little to himself at the thought.
He checked the list in his hand against the items already in the shopping basket.
Eggs? Check.
Curry mix? Check.
Instant coffee? Check.
Carrots? He still needed those.
He turned around and walked toward the produce department. The supermarket wasn’t too busy this time of day. Kusuo always liked it like this; there was less that he had to filter out.
His powers had thankfully stopped growing once he did, so he finally had a chance to catch up to them and get used to controlling them for the past twelve years or so. He didn’t have to wear those awful limiters anymore. That didn’t mean the thoughts of the people around him were any less annoying, of course.
It had been good for him to feel more comfortable with his abilities. He remembered being so anxious and depressed all the time as a kid, worried that one wrong move would hurt somebody. He really thought of himself as a ticking time bomb back then.
Kusuo picked through the stack of carrots, searching for a straight, unblemished one. He was making dinner for his parents tonight, and he wanted to make a pretty sliced carrot garnish for the top of the curry.
“Ah, there you are!” Kusuo said to himself as he found the perfect carrot. He put it into his basket and checked his list again.
Potatoes. That was the last thing on his list.
The bin of potatoes was right behind him. He turned around and dug for two good ones to go into the curry. He placed those in his basket and walked over to the self-checkout machine to pay for his groceries.
Kusuo was grateful for the well-stocked pantry his mom had at her house. This shopping trip would have been much more expensive if he had to get the meat and the rice too. His job paid decently and gave him the freedom to work from home, but the inconsistency of freelance work made him worry about money more than he would like. He still made sure to treat himself to nice things on occasion… but he was glad he had simple tastes to begin with. As long as he knew how to season things well, even cheap curry mix could be a delicacy.
Kusuo sighed. He forgot to put garlic on the list.
He was in the middle of his transaction, and it would be a pain to get the worker to cancel it. Luckily, the produce department was within eyeshot, no other shoppers were around, and the workers were all busy with other tasks.
He looked around to make sure the coast was clear, and telekinetically grabbed a bulb of domestic hardneck garlic from the display across the store and put it in his basket. He figured he ought to get the nicest kind since he had to go to all that trouble to get it.
Kusuo finished ringing up the rest of his groceries, bagged them up, and walked to his parents’ house.
Walking down these streets as an adult felt different. When you’re a kid, it all seems bigger and more important. Even when you’re a seemingly godlike, all-powerful child, your perspective is skewed by your stature and lack of life experience.
It was also nostalgic. This was where he used to pretend to be annoyed by his friends on the way to and from high school. They always got up to so much out here.
Ah, it seemed today was going to be like the old days.
“Saiki?” he heard a man behind him shout, “Is that you? It’s been a while!”
Kusuo stopped and turned around.
The violet-haired man pushed his glasses up and waved, then caught up with Kusuo.
“How have you been, Kuboyasu?”
The long-since reformed delinquent straightened his back proudly.
“I’ve been great!” he said with a grin, “Did I tell you that I got that teaching job at Hidariwakibara Commercial High School?”
Kusuo smiled. “No, that’s great news! I heard that’s a nice school. Congratulations!”
“Thanks, man! What are you doing back in town?” Kuboyasu asked, “Or do you come here all the time since you can just teleport?”
“I took the train actually. It’s relaxing,” he replied, “and I’m just here to visit my parents. It’s their birthday weekend.”
“Both of them?”
Kusuo smiled. “Yep. It’s gross how perfect they are for each other,” he snickered.
The men walked together for a few blocks catching up, until…
“Hey Saiki, do you smell that?”
He hadn’t noticed before, but he did smell something strong. It smelled like someone was cooking something really good, but he couldn’t hear anybody in the nearby houses thinking about dinner. Was that.. Garlic?
“Hey! I think it’s coming from your shopping bag!” Kuboyasu said, “What did you get? It smells great but I think it might be leaking!”
Kusuo opened his bag and the men were greeted by a cloud of aromatic steam.
“Uhhh… Saiki? Did you, uh…”
“Did I what?” Kusuo asked flatly, “Are you asking if I purposely cooked my garlic in the grocery bag?”
“Well, you can do that, right? With your heat powers?”
“It’s pyrokinesis. And yes, I can do that. But I didn’t do that. Why would I do that?”
Kusuo pulled the steaming bulb out of the bag. Bits of melted plastic clung to its paper.
“I can’t even use it now,” he said with a sigh, “Good grief.”
“If it wasn’t you, then what happened?” Kuboyasu asked, “Do you think it could have been some long-range electromagnetic heat gun?”
Kusuo stared at his friend.
Kuboyasu scratched his head and laughed nervously.
“What am I saying?! Maybe I’ve been reading too many of Shun’s books lately…”
That made Kusuo’s annoyed face crack a slight smile.
“Hey, you never know,” he offered, “You’ve never met my brother.”
They went through the rest of the bag and surveyed the damage. It was luckily mostly contained to the garlic, though his perfect unblemished carrot was now half-steamed.
At least it would taste good in the curry, even if he wouldn’t be able to use it for a garnish.
He tossed the garlic into a trash can as they neared the Saiki home.
“It was great talking to you,” Kusuo said as he opened the front gate.
“See you next time!” Kuboyasu replied with a wave, “Let me know if you figure out what cooked your groceries!”
Kusuo waved back and walked through the front door. Now out of sight of his friend, he could drop his act. This was scaring him.
He knew what the effects of pyrokinesis look like. That was definitely his work. What really worried him was that he has never had this problem before. Even just before Kuusuke made the limiters, he had never had an accident like this before.
“Son!” Kuniharu greeted from the kitchen, “I’m glad you made it!”
Kusuo swallowed and straightened his face before joining his father in the kitchen.
“Hi Dad,” he replied.
“Here, let me take those groceries,” the older man said, grabbing the shopping bag, “Ooh, something smells good in here! Kusuo, what did you get?”
Kusuo deflected.
“I got that curry sauce mix that Mom likes. They didn’t have it at Daiei so I had to go to Seiyu.”
“You didn’t have to do that! You know your mother will like whatever you cook for us!”
“Oh,” Kusuo said with a smirk, “you don’t think Mom deserves the best?”
Kuniharu waved his hands and started to sweat.
“N-no! It’s not that at all!” he defended, “Your mother is a gift and she deserves the world! You know I was just joking, right?”
Kusuo smiled.
“I know Dad. I’m just teasing.”
Kuniharu wiped sweat from his brow and let out a sigh.
“Haha,” he laughed nervously, “I knew that, son!”
Kusuo opened the rice maker and scooped in the raw grains.
Kuniharu grabbed a kitchen towel and wiped his face as Kusuo washed the rice.
“Is it hot in here,” Kuniharu asked, “or am I getting sick?”
He put his hand on his forehead to check.
“I didn’t feel this warm earlier…”
Kusuo looked up from the pot of rice. His father’s shirt was damp with sweat and his face was bright red. It was not the man’s usual look.
“I guess I could restore you so you can enjoy your birthdays,” he offered his father, “but don’t forget– you’ll get sick again in 24 hours.”
He was guessing about that. That would be the case if it was a sickness that was incubating 24 hours ago, but if he picked it up today then he would probably be fine tomorrow. In either case, he deserved to enjoy his dinner tonight.
Kuniharu reached his sweaty hand out so Kusuo could reverse time on his body and make him feel better.
“Wait.” Kusuo paused. He remembered the garlic. Was he somehow accidentally cooking his father, too?
He suddenly teleported away, arriving in the woods next to an empty park on the outskirts of town. He meant to go to the park itself, but he was in a hurry to get away from his dad. He must have gotten distracted.
This problem was suddenly more than just overcooked root vegetables.
Kusuo needed to stop this before he killed someone.