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Chapter Text

As he leaped from the cliff and sank beneath the Naka River's surface, Shisui's mind was consumed by thoughts of eternal death and an ascent to heaven. However, he didn't harbor high hopes, fully believing that hell would be more fitting for him. He was aware that taking a life was a sin, yet he had still committed the act.

In those final moments of freefall, he offered a silent prayer for the nation he cherished, wishing for its tranquility. Yet, he understood that wishing for peace in a chronically troubled land was no easy feat. Who could foresee that someone unexpected might rise to dismantle the long-corrupted power structure, perhaps long after he was gone?

He felt the sharp taste of fresh river water as the strong current tugged at his helpless body. In that moment, he recognized that his time had come; his hands no longer struggled, and soon his body settled against the riverbed's rocks, with bubbles escaping his mouth as his oxygen supply dwindled.

Perhaps he never anticipated what would follow: a return to life.

Awakening was a profound experience, akin to a newborn crying while nestled in someone's embrace until soothed by a gentle song. A man was there, rubbing his back and whispering heartfelt words that he could barely comprehend in his dazed state.

Yet he sensed that the man and woman were speaking about him, as if they had eagerly awaited his arrival.

"Shisui."

"Water of death?"

"No! Certainly not. I wouldn’t name my own son that!"

"Haha, I can’t imagine how you thought of that. I should express gratitude for your poetic flair."

Such tidings sounded like newfound hope, yet Shisui felt too exhausted to move. Who could say who this Shisui was—Shisui Uchiha or another?

—The sky was either genuinely dark or merely foggy to his heavy eyes, and Shisui drifted back to sleep, alive on October 19 of the year...

.

Now he was Shisui Uchiyama. The name was similar, with only the switch from "ha" to "yama." Shisui concluded that he had been reincarnated in a peculiar world.

Unlike Konoha, this realm was modern and strange, populated by beings with unusual forms—some resembling ordinary humans but with extra eyes or limbs, while others took on animal shapes. There was even a baby beside him who appeared to be an octopus?

This was a dream that felt vividly real.

His parents appeared happy and complete, in stark contrast to a world where mothers were often lost or fathers distant. Both showered him with warmth, even though he had only been in this world for three days. His father was Wakasugi Uchiyama, and his mother was Shizuka Uchiyama.

Shisui noticed that Wakasugi bore an uncanny resemblance to his late grandfather, Kagami Uchiha, down to the finest detail. His mother, meanwhile, reminded him of his aunt, Mikoto Uchiha, though her hair was brown and longer.

Observing both his parents, they seemed ordinary. Grandpa Kagami—or Wakasugi now—held him close, while Aunt Miko—no, Shizuka—was still in the hospital, recording memories with some odd device.

As a baby, Shisui could do little but contemplate, 'Ah, my second life...'.

Had Shisui been a Nara, he might have found this situation troublesome. Alas, he was an Uchiha, or Uchiyama now, destined to blend the carefree nature of a Nara with the tenacity of an Uchiha.

"His hair is just as curly as yours!" Shizuka teased as she observed Wakasugi radiating joy at Shisui's resemblance to him.

Wakasugi beamed, "True, but his face is yours, sweetheart. Especially those natural eye lines—he truly carries your legacy."

"Awww," Shizuka responded, her playfulness fading. They both appeared to shine like a new couple.

In Wakasugi's embrace, Shisui thought, 'Oh, my goodness.'

.

An intriguing aspect of Shisui's existence was the ongoing adaptation between his adult consciousness and his infantile form. In this baby body, his mature spirit felt confined, unable to engage in responsibilities while his thoughts remained unspoken.

Countless guests flocked to their home in Hokkaido, a place colder than his former home of Konoha. Japan experienced four seasons, with October ushering in the chill of winter.

Their residence was modest—a single-storied structure with two rooms, fashioned from concrete and wooden floors. Shisui reveled in the limited perspectives of the cozy home, filled with warmth from two loving guardians.

Yet, deep down, he felt this adjustment was merely him coming to terms with the reality that he could not return to his past.

Wakasugi was a people person, showcased through his ability to foster connections with many who adored him. Shizuka was equally charismatic, welcoming those who, from Shisui's perception, were trustworthy based on their faces.

He overheard Shizuka share a heartfelt moment with a college friend: "After ten long years, Shisui finally graced our lives. I don’t wish for much more; I want to nurture him with all my heart."

Her words carried a weight of sincerity, with Shizuka regarding Shisui as a blessing, while Wakasugi smiled beside her.

"We're wholly devoted to raising our son," Wakasugi chuckled. "I hope we can witness him grow into an admirable individual."

It was a beautiful aspiration.

But Shisui could only lament inwardly; they didn't deserve a sinner like him.

.

As he developed, Shisui contemplated Konoha's fate.

The timeline was elusive. Nevertheless, he deduced that he was born after his demise, likely ten years since his death, given the Uchiyama couple's estimation of waiting for him. He understood that he had crossed dimensions, embarking on an entirely different story.

This world, it seemed, was filled with quirks rather than chakra or bloodlines. He concluded that quirks were a form of lineage or a genetic anomaly that emerged when a child turned four.

Wakasugi possessed a quirk linked to teleportation, capable of moving instantly from one location to another. Shisui fondly recalled his own teleportation technique, which earned him the title of Shisui the Teleportation Body.

Shizuka wielded a rare quirk associated with elemental manipulation—fire. This delighted him, for the Uchiha were inherently tied to fire elemental techniques. With her abilities, his mother could create flowers of flame; it was a simple but remarkable skill. After all, fire flowers mirrored techniques in the fire release.

In this society, possessing a quirk was akin to an obligation. To translate this into the language of Konoha: individuals with superior bloodlines formed the majority, far more than ordinary civilians.

At just a few days old, Shisui's fate regarding a possible quirk remained uncertain.

Truthfully, Shisui had little experience with the notion of having loving and caring parents. His past family—though filled with affection—often held emotional boundaries imposed by the weight of Uchiha lineage.

The Uchiyama family was a revelation as Shisui approached six months of age. They expressed their love openly, demonstrating patience, even when Shisui tended to push them away—they remained steadfastly at his side.

The soul that had endured nearly twenty years in Konoha carried many emotionally hurt memories.

Even mundane moments, like being fed porridge while seated in a baby chair, were foreign to him. In his recollections from age three, he recalled a life inundated with politics, conflict, and fleeting notions of peace. Here, though, was a tranquility that Konoha could only envy.

As another spoonful of porridge entered his mouth, Shisui accepted this fact: he could now eat. The faster he grew, the better, right?

"Wow! Do you like it?" Shizuka asked while feeding him. The porridge tasted much better than he had anticipated. "If you enjoy it, I’ll prepare countless of your favorite meals!"

Wakasugi shared a laugh as he wiped Shisui's messy face with a handkerchief. "Careful now; he might grow like a balloon!"

‘Isn’t that the ideal scenario for a baby?’ he mused, remembering Little Sasuke, always held close by Itachi. ‘Being a balloon isn't a bad fate at all.’

With another mouthful, Shisui's heart opened slightly, gradually accepting the reality around him.

.

Beyond the harshness of Shisui’s past, he was recognized as warm and open-hearted. Adapting to a typical family life felt challenging after years of solitude amid a struggle for survival— here, he only needed to breathe and be himself.

As he attempted to walk at the age of one, his progress was slow, but he excelled at speaking after covertly practicing. Shisui was curious whether any delays might shift his parents’ perceptions—only to discover that Wakasugi and Shizuka remained unwaveringly supportive.

He took a step towards them, with Wakasugi ready to catch him and Shizuka encouraging him with claps and cheers.

"Come on, Shisui! You can do this!" Shizuka sang out, her tone melodious.

Wakasugi chimed in, "Shisui! Come here to Papa!"

"Mama!" Shizuka playfully remarked, while Wakasugi stuck his tongue out at her. "Come on now, to your dear Mama and Papa. We’re right here!"

The warmth enveloped him.

Shisui took another cautious step, determined to keep trying... until his slippery baby clothes caused him to almost lose his balance.

But as he opened his eyes, he found himself cushioned, not on the floor, but cradled in four arms—two from Shizuka and two from Wakasugi, who enveloped him in a joyful embrace.

"Wohooo!" Wakasugi cheered, rubbing Shisui's head and showering him with kisses. "You did amazing, kid! Ready to try again? How about Papa guiding you this time?"

"Yup! And Mama will be there to catch you," Shizuka said, positioning herself a few steps back, ready to receive him as Wakasugi assisted. "You can do it! Come here, kid!"

Their smiles and enthusiasm stirred something within Shisui’s adult soul. 

‘Wow, just wow, I might cry...’ he reflected, the bittersweet sentiment tugging at his heart. 'I hope this lasts forever.'

Chapter Text

—Four years later, Shisui is now five years old.

As the days went by, Shisui absorbed countless lessons about his new life beyond the intricacies of the quirk world, different moral standards, and so on; what he cherished learning most was about the essence of love.

Shisui does not yet understand love as a true emotion; it feels more like mere "affection" stemming from familial bonds. However, as he grows more aware that life revolves around joy, he gradually finds solace in his past, despite the lingering difficulties of the "adult soul" residing within him.

He genuinely enjoys this existence. There are no conflicts; he attends school—even if sometimes reading and writing seems tedious—and there's ample entertainment to distract him from politics and warfare. In Shisui's eyes, this life is indeed ideal.

Shisui has numerous friends. He’s inherently sociable, and the friendship he shares with them is warm and uncomplicated, transcending quirks. Some of his closest companions are even quirkless, harmoniously fitting into both groups.

His parents could not be better! They are a humble family. Just a bit more detail—Wakasugi, his father, is an esteemed novelist and poet, while Shizuka, his mother, is a karate champion who transitioned to coaching after Shisui's birth, now thriving at a training center in Hokkaido.

When he asked about their origins, Wakasugi shyly replied, “Can you believe it? Your mother is like a knight; she rescued me with her karate skills.”

Laughter erupted from Shisui as they lounged on the couch, finding the television dull compared to their lively exchange.

“The danger I faced was when a thief snatched my wallet because I wasn’t paying attention. But your mother chased that thief down and—bam!” Wakasugi mimicked a punch in the air. “She hit him so hard!”

“Oh really? I didn’t know Mom was that strong,” Shisui beamed, his smile wide. “I guess that explains her strength! I want to be like her.”

Wakasugi chuckled warmly, appreciating his son’s admiration, “You’re already quite strong, my boy.”

In the past, he was recognized for his strength only due to the lives he took.

Here, however, he is celebrated for who he is, and Shisui cannot express enough gratitude for that.

.

Shizuka adores her son deeply. Rather than wearing the label of a “Boy’s Mom,” her aim is to be the greatest mother for Shisui, sharing their lives with love and dedication.

Yet, Shisui remains an enigma. His quiet nature, cheerful smile, and overall demeanor often leave Shizuka pondering the reasons behind it. Sometimes, she glimpses a soul marred by life’s early challenges; at other times, she sees a sprouting flower, fresh and hopeful.

“Maaa—!” Shizuka looked excitedly, regardless of her commitments to training schedules. “I heard from Dad about how you two met,” Shisui shared as he stood beside her.

“Oh really?” Shizuka laughed lightly while preparing dinner. “Do you find me frightening, hmm, scary, now that you know?”

“Scary? Not really. I’d be scared if you got angry, but you’d never get mad without cause,” Shisui replied, observing his mother pause in her cooking. “I think you’re the strongest person around. Papa's strong too, but you’re the strongest!”

The compliment made Shizuka stop cooking, relieved it was already done, and embrace her son tightly.

“Aww, sweet talker already,” Shizuka grinned, kissing Shisui on the cheek. “My wonderful son... I love you.”

Shisui chuckled, wrapping his arms around her neck, replying, “I love you too, Mom!”

It was a scorching August day, teetering on the edge of fall in September.

In their region, the cold was particularly sharp due to recent storms, accentuated by their proximity to the mountains and sea; they lived in Monbetsu, Hokkaido.

—The storm that day had killed the power in their area. Thankfully, Shizuka possessed a fire quirk, and they still had a traditional kitchen reliant on a wood furnace.

Nights grew colder and storms intensified. Shisui was home with his mother while his father was away at a book fair. A one-day event kept them from accompanying him, but the storm had delayed Wakasugi’s return until tomorrow.

Shisui felt under the weather since morning, complaining of a headache. Unlike before, when he kept quiet about his ailments, the Uchiyama in him was now more willing to be open. There was no fear of reprimand; he had no reason to hide his condition.

“Oh, your face is pale,” Shizuka said, her warm hands cradling his cheeks. “You don’t usually look this way.”

“Really?” Shisui responded softly. “Am I a zombie now?” He had just watched a movie with Wakasugi.

With gentle affection, Shizuka pinched his right cheek. “We’re going to the hospital tomorrow,” she stated firmly. “No arguments. We could go now.”

Shisui shook his head, feeling weak. “But it’s stormy outside...”

“I’ll take on the storm,” his mother said, half-jokingly. She removed her hands from his cheeks, then stood up. “I’ll grab you a blanket, alright? Stay here.”

Shisui, ever obedient, waited. However, in those few minutes, something stirred inside him.

He envisioned his former self within the crackling fire, the flames so blinding they froze him in place.

Within, he roared—his Shisui Uchiha soul protested; Shisui Uchiyama witnessed his older self shedding the chains that bound him.

Among the images swirling in his mind, Shisui Uchiha looked down, only Shisui Uchiyama able to perceive him in the dark. Uchiha raised his head, his empty, blood-stained eyes locking onto his counterpart.

“…And we’ll return to falling leaves, right...?”

An unseen force compelled him to lie on the floor with closed eyes—

Thud.

Shizuka returned roughly ten seconds later, holding a blanket—but gasped, dropping it as she rushed to her son lying on the floor, pale as a ghost with a nosebleed.

“Shisui—!!!”

.

Wakasugi had expected to regret attending the seminar after he heard that Shisui had collapsed.

He was in Osaka, a long distance from Hokkaido! Having taken the earliest flight at 4 AM, he arranged for a taxi driver friend to pick him up.

At times, he wished his teleportation skills could transcend distance, unhindered by travel time. Every 5 kilometers required a five-minute cooldown, making it impractical for short journeys.

He urged his friend to hurry, promising to pay extra fares.

On the third floor, he sprinted toward the pediatric ward, room 312.

“Shizuka! Shisui!” Wakasugi burst through the door, finding Shizuka silently crying while clutching her son’s hand, who lay in pain, unconscious. “Oh…”

Typically strong, Shizuka was not able to mask her distress; her focus remained solely on her son, wracked with agony for an unknown reason.

“…The doctor mentioned this might be a quirk awakening,” she reported, feeling Wakasugi’s reassuring presence beside her. “…But this seems excessive… He’s still just a child…”

Wakasugi instinctively wrapped his arms around his wife, granting her a shoulder upon which she could conceal her pain.

“…Everything will be alright…” Wakasugi comforted softly. “We trust him. We will always stand by him.”

Surely, their long-awaited miracle—the child they had dreamed of for a decade—would manifest.

.

Memories flooded back to Shisui, especially those surrounding the demise of "Shisui Uchiha."

He recalled being trapped by a man named Danzo Shimura, under relentless assault from swords, kunai, and poisons. Just as his cousin arrived, the inevitable poisoning took its toll.

Choosing to spare his cousin the burden of saving him, he offered up his other eye to strengthen his bloodline, to protect the village and their clan. After a final hurrah, he dove into the Naka River, believing that death was his only escape.

The river’s embrace became a purifying force, explaining his rebirth as "Shisui Uchiyama."

—“I am you. And we will return to the falling leaves.”

The absurd question looming was whether he desired to return. He yearned for the old life, yet upon reflection, the perfect existence he envisioned now lay in tatters. Why suffer when happiness was within his grasp?

Could loyalty shift like sand? Perhaps. Or maybe attachments could shift too.

Life led him to make choices.

“I refuse to be a fallen leaf,” Shisui Uchiyama declared, smiling at Shisui Uchiha. Imagining the audacity of a five-year-old confronting a mature shinobi, he proclaimed, “I want to be a fresh leaf. I’m reborn, and I intend to live fully while I’m a newly sprouted leaf.”

In the dark realm, Shisui Uchiha stood still, his final visage marred by solitude—encased in obligations, desires, and loyalty. Shisui Uchiyama endeavored to reshape truths, even as they shared the same essence.

“…Can you alter everything without me?” questioned Shisui Uchiha skeptically. His heart remained open, but trust was another matter. “Without any strength.”

“I can modify myself in this life independently of our power,” Shisui Uchiyama replied, grinning broadly at five years old. “However, I cannot change you. You are the deceased past.”

“There remains a chance for that past,” Shisui Uchiha asserted fervently, loyalty unwavering. “Konoha—everyone! Everything!”

"For what purpose? Why cling to an uncertain past?" Shisui Uchiyama queried, head tilted. “I find joy here. There’s no suffering. I am not alone.”

Their debate peaked as Shisui Uchiyama recognized Shisui Uchiha’s selfish pursuit of happiness.

“I can embrace you,” Shisui Uchiyama said with a smile as he reached for Shisui Uchiha's hand in the shadows. “Only your past strength or ours has ever existed. I refuse to wield it as before. I will save with it.”

Underlining the absurdity of the dialogue between himself and his former self, Shisui Uchiha gazed in resignation. That encapsulated the Uchiha—love made them strive to save others. Their definition of heroism danced along the line of anti-heroism.

“Then do it,” Shisui Uchiha urged, covering Shisui Uchiyama’s eyes with his palms. Understanding the unspoken meaning, Uchiyama closed them. A whispered word from his older self echoed, “Stay true to your path, never look back.”

A gentle push sent Shisui Uchiyama reeling backward, falling into the still, cold waters of the Naka River.

Echoes carried the sentiment from Shisui Uchiha, “May we never cross paths again.”

When Shisui regained consciousness, he found himself in his mother's warm embrace.

.

“Shisui—!” Shizuka’s eyes brimmed with tears, her cheeks blistered from crying. How profoundly Shisui Uchiyama missed hearing those words, even if only a brief time had transpired since he spoke with his past self. “Oh, my son!” Shizuka squeezed him tighter.

Wakasugi, positioned behind his wife, held Shisui gently, whispering, “Oh dear… you scared me…” Tears streamed down his face, rarely expressed.

Processing all that had transpired, Shisui gradually raised his limp hands, reciprocating their embrace. This warmth was something Shisui—be it Uchiha or Uchiyama—would never trade for anything.

A quirk specialist known as Doctor Shu evaluated him.

Doctor Shu's features reflected perplexity; he found something unusual about Shisui’s condition through his quirk. After multiple confirmations, he finally directed a question toward Shisui.

“Honestly, your quirk has piqued my interest,” he began. “Would you mind describing how it feels?”

With a slight nod of enthusiasm, Shisui explained, “My eyes feel heavy. I blink, and they change color. When the hues shift, I perceive things more vividly.” He paused and asked, “Can I demonstrate?”

No one prepared for Shisui’s black eyes to morph into blood-red with three commas. Doctor Shu gasped, feverishly taking notes, further astounded as the pupil spun like a pinwheel.

“I once dreamt of this eye,” Shisui voiced quietly. “It claimed to bestow power, but I'm uncertain about that power... I wish to learn more about my potential, but gradually?”

The doctor nodded. “Alright, if that’s your preference,” he said, jotting down final observations before returning his focus to Shisui. Doctor Shu had many questions concerning the dream itself, but he recognized the child needed time to acclimate. “What would you like to call your quirk?”

Now came the thrilling part! Shisui had pondered this for a while. Should he choose something eccentric? Certainly. Or keep it straightforward? Without a doubt. Among all potential names swirling in his mind, one stood out.

A fitting designation for his quirk. While he did not seek to become a hero, should he ever step into that role, he already had a cool name at the ready!

“Kotoamatsukami.”

Time turned backward once more; Distinguished Heavenly Gods.

Chapter Text

"Tell your father I did not anticipate his literary attitude is going right all the way down to you."

Kotoamatsukami or what is known as; Distinguished Heavenly Gods. Shisui knew he could get questions on why that call changed into chosen, the solution is easy and logical—literature and history.

It changed into actually bizarre to call some thing associated with divinity however hey, he overlooked that name! And that name changed into best used while his eyes grew to become red with black pinwheels, he promised. 

Luckily, Doctor Shu did not ask many questions despite the fact that he changed into "surprised" by the choice of name.

It have been 4 days because Shisui back and he heard from Wakasugi that earlier than he regained consciousness, he had screamed in pain and asked to be hugged. That explained why Shizuka hugged him when he woke up. Shisui knew he had given his mom excessive fear, he needed to apologize.

"Haha," Shisui laughed softly, Shizuka turned into feeding him more rice and vegetables. His mom's food become always delicious despite the fact that the veggies were not what he liked. "I like history okay? Like they're alive! Like, like how the light bulb and electricity had been err, made?"

"Invented," Shizuka chuckled, correcting herself as she fed Shisui another bite. "Since you've got got your quirk, I congratulate you, Shisui. You must be cautious in using it okay?"

Well, it is now no longer like Shisui desired to scare his dad and mom with bloody eyes or strolling out of chakra, right?

Actually, when his sharingan and mangkeyou sharingan back, he also felt the flow of chakra. It changed into only some days in the past that his chakra started to go back to adjust to his body's age, despite the fact that not with the Mangekyou, which remains a theory as to why it appeared.

Meanwhile knowing the ability of his quirk, or the awakening of his sharingan and chakra—Shisui concluded that he had to check in the whole thing in detail. On the day before he back from the hospital, Shisui explains his new quirk before its finalization.

It changed into while Doctor Shu checked him the following day that Shisui pretended to do many activities together along with his new quirk. For example, Teleportation like his father, that is truly a way in preference to quirk. Or the fire that he later additionally stated he found, despite the fact that the fire regarded because he had chakra, not because Doctor Shu had concluded that he was imitating it.

But rather than making it a hassle, it would be better to just say that Shisui's sharingan eye can imitate "quirks" and at the same time sharpen his vision. 

"...I do not really need to depend on my quirk," Shisui replied after a moment of silence. "I need to be strong with my body."

Shizuka stopped feeding, she tilted her head, "What do you mean, Shisui?"

"Err, this is a bit of a stretch, however I really like martial arts!" He made an excuse. "I saw you training students and videos of your matches a few times... So, I want to learn cool movements like you!"

Hopefully that makes sense.

"I just need to discover ways to defend myself," Shisui smiled once more, nearly wincing. "I do not want to be a hero, however I need to be strong, it is all."

Of course, with a smile is his deadly flow to melt Shizuka's heart. Yes, Shizuka, smiled touchedly by nodding her head, "As long as you do not give up halfway."

Yes! Finally back. Although his martial arts had been muscle memory from his past existence, he wanted to best it with the modern world conditions. After all, his martial arts in the past were more... Killing instead of protecting oneself. 

"I promise!"

Their fingers intertwined in promise.

.

Shisui also wanted to learn literacy from his father. 

Wakasugi is a person who likes something classic. Currently Wakasugi is gaining knowledge of ninja; Shisui is known as to explain, however isn't it odd if he does know? So he pretends to study it with Wakasugi.

In the examine where his father wrote, Shisui sat on his lap. Then watched how his father worked with various old literature on his desk. Shisui reads some literature about how ninja lived on this world—it seems history changed into very special.

Having come to the realization that that is any other world, that's for certain.

"Hey, Papa," Shisui looked up. "Why are you curious about ninjas?"

"Because? I'm honestly interested in that mysterious new Hero Edgeshot," Wakasugi played a video on his phone, showing the Hero in question. "He made me want to make a tale about a strong ninja."

Shisui raised an eyebrow only to almost snort—almost spitting out orange juice. Edgeshot's resemblance reminded him of someone, and surely— 'Captain Kakashi!?'

He could not believe Kakashi coming to this world too. He changed into too dangerous in a depressing manner if he really reincarnated into the Hero world!

“Well, that’s an interesting story!” Shisui laughed nervously, still not able to shake his imagination. "What do you think the ninja would do, Papa? In Papa's story?"

"Hmm," Wakasugi looked for a suitable phrase. "I need to make a zero to hero suspense story, as usual. The goal book is often about a person who starts from zero... But I desired to add a touch mystery, but it is too young for you to understand."

It wasn't like Shisui could protest when his father stated that. He turned into nonetheless 5 going on 6, heavy subjects could be tough. At least he would wait till he turned into 10 to speak about greater serious matters.

—At night time when his dad and mom were asleep, and at the 5th day, Shisui wanted to try some little things.

If he was in Konoha, his ill frame condition could have pressured him to keep pushing. But now no longer here. He didn't force himself so he started slowly through relearning the 12 hand seals.

The muscle memory is real. Shisui recalls the whole thing about hand seals very well, but he admits that on the age of five, despite the fact that his memory is near to twenty years old, his movements tend to be slow. But for a Genin, it's quite properly.

The most difficult seal in hand movement is the bird seal. His fingers had been a bit plump and every bend of his fingers felt stiff. Luckily he didn't use many bird hand seals among the method he remembered. 

'But this is my second life, have to I try to make a brand new one jutsu?' At the risk of getting hurt? Shisui thought once more for a second. 'Uh, well, perhaps not.'

.

There are a few exercises that Shisui makes sure of.

The first is chakra training with leaves. The controls are good but not as properly as with the medical ninja. The results had been correct enough, at the least he could plan for the future to be better.

The second is three academy techniques. Starting from duplication, then transformation, and replacement. Logically, if he can teleport, then placement also can be done—Duplicates also are properly, despite the fact that can't be more than five for now. And also transformation—He can stay in his transformation for five minutes, and he can transform into his adult self or everyone else—it is all safe!

Shisui also attempts to train his sharingan. At night time he attempted to spark off it and it lasted for approximately one to one and a half hours. In this situation there may be not much need right? It's not like he is going to be a Hero anyway. Even if he calculated that he turned into in danger, he might select evacuation rather than fighting.

Okay, speaking about effects—

'I maxed out my sharingan... But there may be no brief blindness? Or eye pain? Or a headache?' Shisui asked, thinking hard. It became almost time for him to set off his sharingan. '...In fact, I'm hungry, very hungry. I'm sleepy too.'

Should he be grateful or concerned?

Between all that, and his training, Shisui concluded; being born into this world wasn't so terrible.

He also started physical training the subsequent month. 

Since it's almost 6 years old too; Shisui's situation also improved in the sense of being "very proper" to do activities. Before he began out, his mom wanted to look his dedication, he managed to show it.

Most people say martial arts is taijutsu in his world—on this world Shisui is aware of it in various branches, taekwondo, boxing, karate. Their movements are similar however different. However, Shisui felt that he might be greedy and get stuck if he wanted to learn the whole thing, so he studied karate first.

It's the 8th day after studying. In a dojo this is the middle for the Hokkaido-Monbetsu branch. On the first day he most effective did light activities, handiest on the third day did he start with heavy activities.

His mother become an athlete. Wakasugi actually did not really agree before everything but whatever Shisui chose, Shizuka was also worried about training her own son but this turned into Shisui.

—"We agree that the kid is a quick learner, however not this fast."

Shizuka watched Shisui's movements. During her profession from a younger age, she had seen many human beings strive karate for self-defense or just as a hobby. But what she noticed from Shisui changed into a puzzle. She noticed Shisui trying to survive rather than guard himself.

Wakasugi is not actually a full-fledged writer. In his youth he studied kendo. His family additionally consists of at the least one minor athletic. So— Both have experience in the martial arts field despite the fact that different techniques. 

Shisui turned into running together along with his friends to warm up before the martial arts began. Shizuka watched from afar, as did Wakasugi. The glanced at each other before, Wakasugi's expression fell.

"...I sense like Shisui is a little different," Wakasugi whispered, his brows furrowed further in worry. "That's good, but I don't know why the child seems like he is prepared to defend himself with a weapon."

Both of them had been lost, however Shisui also confirmed them that they may trust him completely that they didn't want to know the truth.

"He's talented even so," smiled Wakasugi then. "He could be a fantastic person."

Shizuka, smiled faintly, "He can learn. Maybe we can call it ambition; slowly he will recognize that martial arts isn't always all about who wins," Shizuka chuckled. "Sometimes I wonder, does he have a second life? This is his second life."

"If it is true, I would not be surprised," Wakasugi answered. "He must had been a very good person in his beyond life."

Which they could definitely be shocked. Not watching for who Shisui really is if they knew.

And time passes—

From the Dojo got here the sound of kick after kick, this time changed through tough punches. Every now and then there has been the sound of teeth grinding before a very last blow! The sound of bodies falling, and heavy breathing.

"I surrender!" Shisui raised his arms from his lying position. "You monster, Ma!"

Shizuka laughed heartily with Shisui, before kicking the 13 year old's butt, "Tch, I'm trying to be gentle you know?"

"You're already 45 and there may be no such thing as gentle on your dictionary," Shisui grumbled, rubbing his own butt where he had been kicked. "You too Papa! Why are you laughing!?"

On the outskirts of the Dojo, a glad snicker was heard from Wakasugi who almost fell off his chair, "Sorry my son, however it is your mom! A monster for her age!"

Ha—Well, Shisui can't comment, right?

This is his life after all; Shisui Uchiha has been alive for 12 years since he turned into reborn as Shisui Uchiyama. In this existence, he's happier than most people can imagine.

But if this is the beginning, then there must be a something waiting for him right? He was hoping it would not be as awful as what happened in his first life.

Or he could fight even the gods to fight for his happiness.

Chapter Text

—One day, in the year 2132, during the last week of July.

Ah, summer vacation, that much-anticipated break!

To recap briefly, Shisui Uchiyama was formerly known as Shisui Uchiha. He was reborn after meeting his end at the age of nearly 20 and found himself in this world. In his previous life, he was a Shinobi, but now he’s just an average high school student.

In this life, he shares some traits with his former self. He originally hailed from the esteemed Uchiha clan, renowned for their powerful bloodline that includes the Sharingan. Who knows—maybe he possesses the Sharingan as a quirk, along with chakra, which is a staple for Shinobi.

Shisui enjoys a considerably better life, complete with loving parents. His father, Wakasugi, is an author, while his mother, Shizuka, is a karate coach.

Additionally, he has new furry friends: a Husky dog named Kuro and a white cat named Shiro. To be honest, Shisui has a soft spot for crows, but he’s content just the same.

As long as his family is happy and he’s doing fine, everything is alright.

—The sound of shuffling feet echoed in the arena, followed by a whistle signaling that an opponent was out. Shisui, the official representative from Hokkaido Prefecture, advanced to the national competition level.

Regulating his breath, he raised his hands upon the judges’ signal. A sweet smile spread across his face, momentarily forgetting about the opponent lying on the mat. He felt a little concerned but thought, with so many cameras around, he’d make sure his opponent was fine.

"Shisui Uchiyama from Monbetsu moves on to the next round!" Applause erupted as Shisui blushed and exited the arena.

At just 14, alongside being a junior high student, Shisui dedicated himself to karate, specifically in the Kyokushin style. He aspires to become a young Olympian; it just sounds great. On another note, he also dreams of turning into a teacher, reminiscent of his Genin instructor.

Essentially, Shisui is the youngest representative from the region, being merely 14 while the average age for junior high athletes is around 15 or 16. Winning his next match at the regional level, at least into the semi-finals, is more than enough.

Many reporters later inquired, "How does it feel to defeat the reigning champion of Hokkaido Prefecture, Uchiyama-san?"

"I'm pretty happy and a little nervous, but thank you for your support!" Shisui replied with a smile.

Among the young athlete reporters, Wakasugi laughed the loudest before wrapping his arms around his son; after all, Shisui had outgrown him, "That’s my boy!!!"

"Ugh, Dad..." Shisui looked away, embarrassed.

The reporters then directed their attention to Shizuka, asking, "What do you think, Mrs. Uchiyama?"

Shizuka, beaming, simply nodded and gave a thumbs up, “He makes me very proud! Win or lose, he’s the champion of my heart!”

The enthusiasm from the reporters made it into their athletic news coverage.

While Shisui only wished to hide.

.

Even though summer held exciting matches ahead, he decided to concentrate on that first.

The match took place in Saitama. Travel expenses and accommodations were fully covered—though just for him, as his parents were financially independent.

—That evening, they celebrated at Shisui's preferred barbecue spot, where for an affordable price they relished a feast of meat and vegetables, accompanied by juice; the Uchiyamas setting a good example by abstaining from alcohol.

Seated on the floor in a traditional Japanese barbecue establishment bustling with patrons, they enjoyed a challenge that offered a free meal upon finishing ten plates of meat. Shisui accepted the challenge, knowing he could manage it; he was on his ninth plate and still hungry.

"Are you sure you want to come to Saitama, Mom? Dad?" Shisui asked, skillfully placing a handful of meat onto the grill smeared with butter.

“It’s no trouble,” Shizuka assured him with a warm smile. “We can handle this just fine.”

Both of his parents nearing 50 gave Shisui reasons for concern about how hard they worked. At this age, most previous Shinobi or average citizens would have already retired; however, they continued—Shisui knew his father was financially stable with his writing, but how long could that last?

Shisui had received some prize money earlier, but it hardly sufficed. He couldn't shake off thoughts about their living expenses and contemplated getting a part-time job, even if it meant doing dishes.

“It’s fine if you don’t come,” he smiled. “I can manage.”

Yet Wakasugi shook his head, a piece of meat halfway to his mouth, chopsticks pointed at Shisui. “No, you’re still a minor, and it’s our duty as adults, as your parents. Please put those thoughts aside; focus on enjoying your day.”

That’s something Shisui really cherished about them.

As they enjoyed their meal together under the beautiful night sky, he felt optimistic about Saitama City.

The flight to Saitama began at Monbetsu Airport, landing at Haneda. The air travel lasted around two hours, then the remaining journey by land.

Traveling from Haneda to Saitama, reaching the hotel took about an hour. Shisui’s accommodation was at the Amaze Hotel meant for athletes while his parents opted for a more budget-friendly apartment nearby.

This hotel stay was set for ten to fifteen days, contingent upon how quickly Shisui was eliminated. Fingers crossed that he wouldn’t be out in the first or second round, hoping to advance at least to the semi-finals.

Shisui settled into room number 231 on the second floor, located conveniently at the end of the hall. After unpacking, he took a shower and changed into casual attire to head to the meeting hall.

There was a straightforward reason he needed to attend with other athletes. Among them were seven individuals representing seven different regions. The competitive tier was simple—going from schools to cities, then prefectures, and finally to the inter-regional level.

From Northern Japan, they were:

1. Uchiyama Shisui – Hokkaido / Monbetsu || Yuki Middle School Representative.
2. Iwamoto Noburo – Tohoku / Fukushima || Daiichi Middle School Representative.
3. Nakama Kazuto – Kanto / Saitama || Nabu Middle School Representative.
4. Yoshida Kenshin – Chuubu / Fukui.
5. Furutani Teru – Kansai / Shiga || Kudo Middle School Representative.
6. Nagano Ryou – Chuugoku / Hiroshima || St. Andrew Catholic Junior High School Representative.
7. Uehashi Mitsue – Shikoku / Kagawa || Sakurazawa Middle School Representative.
8. Fukuda Hibiki – Kyushu & Okinawa / Nagasaki || Hoshizuki Middle School Representative.

Among this group, none were particularly friendly. Though Shisui matched their physical stature and likely possessed similar skills, their hardened expressions contradicted his own. He attempted to initiate conversation but opted to focus on his own objectives instead.

Instructions for the matches were indeed shared, but two key points stood out:

1. They would participate in a live drawing to determine their opponents.
2. Anti-quirk items would be provided by the organizers for match fairness.

‘Seems equitable,’ Shisui mused while seated. ‘But assuming my chakra can’t be suppressed, right? Or is it possible to suppress the Sharingan too?’

—“You may take a brief walk, but remain within town limits and return by 9 PM sharp! Otherwise, you will be eliminated.”

With no intention of mingling, Shisui ventured out. It was only 3 PM, and his parents permitted him to explore, as long as he informed them of his whereabouts. After all, he had no plans of fleeing during this match he was committed to winning.

.

Saitama seemed much more modern compared to Monbetsu. While he questioned how residents endured the extreme cold of Monbetsu, Shisui felt himself melting in the warmer city air.

Nevertheless, he was captivated, transitioning from the snowy remoteness of Hokkaido to this flourishing place. Observing the colorful streets felt like stepping into a bustling metropolis, which made him think that Konoha would mirror this vibrancy one day if it still existed.

As a food enthusiast, Shisui had been given pocket money to indulge in his favorite snacks; dango. The dango he purchased from a street vendor was delightful, especially paired with green tea. He noted that city dwellers didn’t seem as amiable as those in small towns, but that was simply who they were.

Shisui noticed amusing sights such as a police officer dressed as a cat and even a bird-like person! He longed to summon his crows afterward.

—Well, Shisui concluded running low on chakra in this world required just sweet treats and rest. That was a silver lining amidst various downsides. The downside being some techniques drained more of his energy, necessitating additional sleep and food afterward.

‘It's getting late; what to do now? Hmm...’ 

As he continued exploring, he held a paper bag filled with sushi intended for his parents. He planned to visit their rented apartment before returning home when a sudden noise froze him in his tracks.

The sound of a hard object striking flesh.

Shisui dashed towards the noise's origin, his past life providing him acute awareness of his surroundings. His Sharingan activated, glowing red to enhance his perception.

At last, he found a small alley where a teenager his age was being beaten and bullied.

The victim had indigo hair and weary eyes, his face marred by bruises, and his clothes were damp along with his backpack. There seemed to be more than three bullies, but three were sufficient to intimidate an unarmed person.

“Come on! You claimed you could control us!” jeered one of the assailants. “Speak up, why don’t you? Show us your power, villain!” 

Their laughter ignited a sense of disgust in Shisui.

Before any of them could strike, Shisui teleported and seized their arms from behind.

“Who—!?” exclaimed one, identified as Tsujita Eizo. Oh, just a punk with a quirk giving him a lizard-like appearance, scales highlighting his cheeks. “Let go—!”

Shisui tightened his grip, donning a grin, “Looks like you’re having quite a bit of fun mistreating others, huh?”

There were two others: a blond punk named Tagawa Roku and a shark-like individual with sharp teeth named Mifune Manzo. Shisui quickly understood why they targeted the indigo-haired boy.

“If you want to throw fists, come at me, one-on-one,” he said, still smiling. “I’m in game.”

“Hey—! Who do you think you are—” Manzo began, but Roku stopped him. “Wait—! He’s that karate kid from Hokkaido!” 

As he registered the urgency in Roku’s voice, Eizo, still held by Shisui, groaned pathetically. “W—We give up! Just let our friend go!”

With a sinister smile, Shisui released Eizo and hurled him toward his friends. Eizo stumbled, his arm clearly injured from the brief hold. Roku and Manzo took several steps back in fright.

“What are you waiting for?” Shisui asked, his Sharingan glowing ominously. “Go.”

The trio scampered away, displaying the typical behavior of cowards. Shisui turned to the indigo-haired boy now struggling to stand, undeniably in a wretched state.

“Hey—”

But the boy flinched and limped away, avoiding eye contact with Shisui, his silence speaking volumes. He moved as though each step pained him, yet hurried to gather his belongings.

Shisui frowned, not frustrated by the absence of gratitude, but rather deeply concerned. He sighed, recognizing perhaps the boy simply didn’t want to engage—oh.

‘Shinsou Hitoshi.’

A name tag fell. Shisui picked it up, examining it briefly before stashing it in his pocket.

Chapter Text

"Dad, if do you imagine when someone is bullied, what would eventually you do?"

Wakasugi noticed Shisui wasn't just curious. Shisui was asking because of his outlook on he viewed the problem at hand. Before that, Wakasugi pondered how Shisui could respond to such a scenario.

"It depends," Wakasugi said, looking earnestly at Shisui. "There are circumstances where you might help and situations where you cannot. There are times where you have to leave the bullied alone, and there are situations where you can help."

Shisui stayed silent. "So... Is it appropriate if I turn it over to them for this? About the problem. Make them handle it on their own?"

"Yup, there are certain those we can't get involved with, right?" Wakasugi asked. "But if you can listen or help them, do so. Only as much as you are able to help."

The match will begin tomorrow. While those in charge were preparing the arena and other particulars, Shisui went to an address following his personal training.

Nabu junior Middle School. The name is readily visible on the signboard, which reflects the magnificent architecture of the school. Notwithstanding the fact that it was summer break, several students were still noticed indicating that they had taken extra classes.

Shisui planned to wait at the gate until he saw the indigo-haired boy exit from it, appearing even tireder than yesterday. His uniform was not flooded, but it was ruined in several places. He also saw that a corner of his lips were bleeding.

Oh, filth if he'd been in Konoha, he could have acted lawfully. But here? It's difficult since certain procedures do not go right away to the police but require an A to Z report.

"Hey!" Shisui addressed the man with a beaming grin. The guy stopped to look at him. "Shinsou, right?"

Shinsou—or Hitoshi—shuddered slightly and replied, "Right. You...? "Oh, the one yesterday."

"Yep, the one from yesterday," Shisui said, holding out his hand. "You left your name badge behind. I need to return it, true? Here you go."

Hitoshi's hand received the missing name tag. He nodded slightly and said, "Thank you." That was what he said just before going away, but Shisui—.

Shisui stated, "If you would like, I can treat your wounds first." Indigo turned his head again, his expression puckering at times. "It can be dangerous if not handled."

He hopes it works...

.

Work with a little force! Did Shisui feel bad, Hitoshi? He failed to know; he just kept quiet.

Shisui observed without the sharingan that some injuries caused discomfort and fever. That wasn't good, but Hitoshi glanced to be handling himself well.

While it felt uncomfortable to trust a stranger, Hitoshi seemed to be staying in front of the minimarket bench, as he had requested. Shisui then returned from inside to give the pain medications, patches, wound plasters, and ointments. The Indigo gave him a gaze before turning around to face him.

"...This is really unnecessary," he said with an unpleasant feeling, despite his dismissive tone.

Shisui shrugged, chuckling, "I'm stubborn; it's necessary. You have to treat your wound or it will become infected."

"You're too nice to strangers," he said, seemingly looking down on himself rather than Shisui. "Only recognize me from my name."

"Oh, that proves I know your name, so you need to know mine," Shisui said, holding out his arm. "Uchiyama Shisui, nice to meet you Shinsou."

"...Yes, Shinsou Hitoshi," Indigo responded, shaking his hand and wincing. "The skin on your hands is hard Uchiyama."

"I'm a karate athlete, Kyokushin," he smiled, flashing his arm muscles. "I am going competing here tomorrow. But the organizer mentioned I had opportunity today to go for a walk, so we were able to run into each other yesterday."

"...It turns out I didn't hear incorrectly that you are a karate athlete from Hokkaido."

"Haha! I'm from Monbetsu," Shisui smiled again. "Shiomincho to be exact."

"So far... Aren't you melting?" Hitoshi's grin appeared, then Shisui rolled his eyes while holding back laughter.

"Soooo melting, I can't believe I'm still alive," Shisui sighed. "I would prefer this match to be held in my own city."

"That would make things difficult for the other opposing team," Hitoshi replied, looking at the table with the plastic bags of medicine. "...Except for Nakama..."

"Hm? 'Nakama'? You mean Nakama Kazuto?" 

When Hitoshi heard that name, he clearly stiffened and closed his eyes. Shisui wasn't trying to get the Indigo Man to become uncomfortable. He suspected something was missing with Kazuto.

Shisui prepares for an important match by watching his opponent's prior match. Kazuto became the reigning champion for an array of reasons, one of which is his physical ability. He thought was strange since Kazuto Nakama's punch was so unsettling. For his opponents who fought him in the end had to be transported to the hospital for emergency treatment.

It isn't like this is a match with protective gear. Kyokushin is a body-on-body match that provides little protection. At first looks, it seems to be equivalent to Seidokaikan—but Kyokushin is more about "self-defense" or "outperforming up" than "traditional values".

"...Yeah, but forget about that," Hitoshi replied awkwardly, his hand resting on the back of his own neck. "You're going to compete with him after all."

"I see," Shisui smiled faintly. "Let's hope it's in the semi-finals. I can't imagine playing against the defending champions without a warm-up, can I?"

"Haha," Hitoshi laughed dryly even so. "You don't intend to advance to the final round?"

"Hopefully there will be, but I need to consider. This is my first regional level match. It will be different from the inter-prefecture or regional divisions in Hokkaido."

"Hokkaido is just one prefecture."

"Yup, but it's divided into South, North... Most of them are crazy though."

"But you're also crazy to have gotten to this stage... Ah, I guess you're older than me, I'm sorry for the impoliteness."

"Hm? Really? What date were you born? I was born on October 19th."

"...You're joking."

"I'm serious hey! Do I look that old?"

"Your eye lines make you look older. Your height too."

"Ha—? Wait, your age—"

"...I'm 15 years old?"

"Wow, I'm only 14, going on 15. If you're really a year older than me then... Senpai."

"Shut it."

"Hahaha!"

.

Something good will eventually come to an end. But Shisui wouldn't want it to end like that, true? He is a stubborn individual who used to be a friend in his former life as Shisui Uchiha.

Hitoshi intended to head back home, since it was now 5 p.m. Shisui also needed to go back to the hotel to take presence and get instructions for tomorrow's competition. Before they parted paths at the a turning point, they both stopped for an abrupt halt.

"Shinsou! Wait! Can I get your phone number?" Shisui inquired, handing him his phone. "Or your Line ID?" Instagram? X? I'd want to stay in touch if possible."

Although Hitoshi seemed surprised by this, Hitoshi nodded slightly, "I'll give you my Line ID then."

"Lovely! Alright, I'll be your friend there too," Shisui smiled warmly. 

Both of them exchanged IDs. Shisui repressed his giggle when he viewed Hitoshi's profile photo, which featured a thick-haired Calico cat. Oh, the person in front of him loves cats! Even if his look is frightening, his heart must be extremely tender.

"If there's a chance, let's meet again," Shisui said, smiling brightly. "Please pray for me, Shinsou! Take care of yourself."

Shisui made a step to the left and dashed off to the hotel.

Hitoshi froze in place. He checked his phone and found a sticker of a waving hand with a cat shape. He didn't anticipate the strange individual who saved him yesterday to become a new friend.

He's just a friend, right? He doesn't know about his quirk yet. If he knew, he would absolutely avoid him. Especially if he directly informed him about Kazuto and wherefore.

But it's an enjoyable experience regardless.

Let's meet again—Hitoshi felt optimistic for some reason.

Shisui is quite careful, despite his tendency to joke about in general. He headed straight to the conversation area, where he found himself the only one there. The organizers also greeted him with a smile.

"Did you have fun?" sought out Yuzuru, the staff member, before setting a bottle of water for Shisui.

Shisui nodded and chuckled, "I had an amazing day, of course."

The second person to show up was Ryou-Ryou Nagano. Shisui observed him more closely; he looked a person with a lion's tail. However, his hair and tail feathers were reddish in color like to the shade of an expensive carpet.

Ryou sat next him, staring coldly before softening up. The tense mood had eased a bit. Shisui enjoyed it, though he was still careful not to offend.

"Oh, your name is Uchiyama, correct?" Ryou asked, offering a handshake. "It's nice to meet you, Uchiyama. Nagano."

"Nice to meet Nagano, Uchiyama here, thank you," Shisui replied. "Mm? You smell like coffee; do you personally like coffee?"

Ryou cracked a joke, "Yup, I truly enjoy coffee. "I just stopped by to try out the coffee shop here—it tastes good," he said. "You have a good sense of smell, what is your quirk?"

"No, my quirk is in my eyes," Shisui said, smiling. "My specifics helps me to see sharply. What about your quirk?"

"I can move like a lion. My build may be human, but my speed is comparable to theirs," Ryou said with a lovely smile. "You have good speed then."

"Well, that is my area of expertise," Shisui's early life as a Uchiha was obviously marked by his dearth of skill with power. "I guess I gave away my personal details, huh?"

"Haha! Don't worry, I'm not good at strength either. Speed is also my specialty," grinned the Lion-Man. "I've heard a lot about you too. You're called a Prodigy in the karate world... Many of my seniors said you are their role model for agility."

"Really? Thank you!"

Their talk proceeded. But it wasn't only them; the rest of the athletes were friendly as well. They can be joked with, cooperated with, or simply chatted about anything casual.

Ryou is strict although he speaks nicely for his age. He frequently warned others for using vulgar phrases. He is the team's father, with his serious approach.

Iwamoto, Noburo - Or, He is outgoing and has an unique accent. He appears to be a foreign mix. And he is much more communicative than Ryou.

Meanwhile, Yoshida Kenshin (Kenshin) is a samurai enthusiast. His speaking demeanor is formal, with a samurai-like tone. His favorite hero is Edgeshot, who represents the qualities he values.

Despite his image as a school delinquent, Furutani Teru—or Teru—is an introverted and shy person. Many people enjoy making things humorous, so he changes his look and joins Karate to display his power.

Euehashi Mitsue, also known as Mitsue, is an enthusiastic plant and bonsai lover. He talks about people like they're bonsai. Describing the characteristics they possess as plants, Mitsue appears to have represented Shisui as a regrowing leaf.

Finally, Fukuda Hibiki, or Hibiki. He's a pretty delicate guy. He enjoys hugging especially Shisui. He even asked Mitsue to step aside so that he could hug Shisui.

The majority of them have taken part in national tournaments more than twice. Mitsue, in particular, was once ranked first before being beaten by Kazuto during the last two years. Meanwhile, on Kazuto himself...

"Y'know? I can't bear it if Uchiyama fights that bastard," said Hibiki while still hugging Shisui. Shisui didn't mind and instead kept quiet. "He's too brutal."

"I can agree," Kenshin said. He sat up straight, his dramatic demeanor turning serious. "Should I ask the jury to have him fight me instead?"

"That hasn't been decided yet," Ryou said calmly. "But whoever his opponent is, he will definitely win easily. It's definitely because of his family, duh."

"Money and everything, it's fun," Mitsue covered her face with the traditional fan he had been holding. Seeing Shisui's confused expression, his eyes fell on Teru then.

Teru, making sure, explained then in a whisper. They formed a circle, "So, Shisui..."

"Yes?" Shisui also lowered his voice.

And there begins Teru's story.

.

In fact, Kazuto was a bully from an early age. He engaged in a lot of bullying since he felt superior due to his power. His family history contributes to the various media-related capacities he possesses.

Kazuto's father is a famous businessman, while his mother is a model. He has an older brother who boxes, but the boxer himself is problematic. Filled with vanity, Kazuto ultimately believes that is how he will win the game. Strength is brutal, and the weak are not his equals.

There were several victims, including Mitsue. Kazuto claimed to have cheated in a bout two years ago but was able to escape and get certified clean. As a result, Mitsue feels resentment toward Kazuto—Furthermore, Mitsue received intensive physical therapy before returning to training.

Kenshin also accomplished it, but only in an inter-prefecture match at the time. Kenshin learns Kazuto is using his quirk for the match. Not just any quirk, but an undetectable one: he can increase the power of his fists as he becomes more challenged. And his fists can send someone to the hospital, such as Mitsue.

According to Noburo, Kazuto leads a group that supports quirk discrimination. The group's subject matter is limited to Kazuto's school, Nabu Middle School. The group's operation is just as easy to understand: individuals with quirks who fulfill Kazuto's standards will join an alliance requiring them to abuse people with villainous or without villain quirk.

Shisui, who had gone through a lot in his life, recognized that this group was engaged in the Hitoshi event. He couldn't comprehend the bullying of the student's quirk portrayed so vividly by three individuals who called him a criminal. He thought living in a village with bothersome people was enough, but it turned out that things were significantly more difficult here.

The remaining six people who had gathered with him supported Shisui to win. They also warned Shisui not to be careless if he defeats them and then Kazuto. The six people stated that they had no intention of praying or hoping Shisui would lose. Instead they gave Shisui a warning before he ended up the same as Mitsue two years ago or Kazuto's opponent in the previous tournament.

—As soon as Kazuto came, their talk fell silent again. The second directive concerned the flow of the match, which turned out to be easy to understand. The most crucial rule was that either the opponent or the one battling might finish, knock the fighter out, or vice versa.

Shisui went to his room as the night grew late. When the other six people had left, Shisui noticed Kazuto's hand reaching out to him. In his first incarnation as a Shinobi, he was able to move fast backwards using the body flicker technique. Kazuto punched the wall, causing a tiny echo throughout the hallway.

"This isn't a match arena, but you're already so eager to hit me," Shisui grinned faintly, prepared to avoid again if necessary. "Why? Is there an issue that needs attention?

Kazuto felt pain as his hand hit the wall, which was not funny. He was also starting to grow frustrated with Shisui, who had taken him lightly since yesterday. "Problem? "Of course, meddling is a big problem," Kazuto grumbled

Okay, this is weird. "The situation that I'm meddling in?"

"You and my punching bag."

Mmh, stupid loser—Shisui cringed as Kazuto proudly named someone his punching bag.

"You ought to be more precise than calling someone your pounding bag," Shisui replied while putting both hands in his pockets.

"Don't play wise with me," Kazuto said, gritting his teeth. "You know who he is."

Knowing was not atypical thing. Because the objective for connecting all of this was obvious, "I know," Shisui said with a faint smile. "Just address you as well as your bad attitudes."

Shisui escaped again, understanding he had enraged Kazuto with such speed. He read Kazuto's movements even though he didn't require the sharingan, and his steps increased as Kazuto became frustrated of chasing him.

"Damn... your quirk..." Kazuto cracked. "You will perish in the stadium, I guarantee it!"

"Yes, I don't mind. Let me dying for one more time," Shisui displays his sweetness. "I'm looked forward to it."

Kazuto must think this is crazy. Then he went away, leaving Shisui alone in the hallway. Meanwhile, Shisui murmured and shrugged as he walked to his room.

After all Kazuto are bound to be problematic.

Chapter Text

The match the place was full with cheering supporters. On an idyllic Saturday morning, the match was drawn in order to decide who was going to compete against who amongst all eight competitors.

The fighting field is divided into four distinct areas filled with two fighters. The final results of the draw were held as follows:

1. ARENA 1 : Iwamoto, Noburo vs Euehashi Mitsue / Fukushima vs Shikoku
2. ARENA 2 : Nakama, Kazuto vs Furutani Teru / Kanto vs Kansai 
3. ARENA 3 : Fukuda, Hibiki vs Uchiyama, Shisui / Kyushu & Okinawa vs Hokkaido 
4. ARENA 4 : Yoshida, Kenshin vs Nagano Ryou / Chuubu vs Chuugoku

Shisui felt guilty that Teru was going to be fighting the a lunatic. Shisui is stayed up all night last night to take Kazuto's bluff, afraid that his bedroom would be broken in and he was going to get beat up. Whatever that mad man did, he wouldn't hesitate.

Teru simply shrugged, "I'll give up before he does his fraud," and cracked a grin "You take that, Nagano."

Ryou let out a sigh: "Ha, I'm confident the one here who wants revenge is Euehashi."

When it came down to Mitsue, he grinned wryly, "I'll lose, but I want to try pounding the nostril once until it breaks."

Meanwhile, Shisui decided to remain mute while staring at the other side, Hibiki. Again, the bashful Hibiki responded with a slight smile before handshaking. After all, they both wanted to fight fairly rather than see who was stronger.

"I'm looking for it," Shisui stated with a slight giggle and Hibiki confirmed.

"Me too," Hibiki responded, breaking his handshake. "Good luck, Uchiyama."

Shisui gave an enthusiastic thumb up: "You too!"

Hitoshi didn't really want to come here as well but he was intrigued.

(He assumed that his parents would never allow him, but eh? It came out that his parents were willing to let him because they were too busy with their work.

"Just go," his mother replied calmly and coldly. "As long as you don't do something bad."

It hurt to hear that didn't say 'take care of yourself'.)

Blame it on Shisui, who likewise gifted him with an entry ticket to show his support. While they had only known one other for about two days, Shisui had already been communicating with him significantly. For example, mention the match or a random tale, then ask, and offer to play an internet-based game together every now and again.

Whenever there is curiosity in this Uchiyama figure. Heard and seen in the previous match, many people consider him as a new figure in the world of sports. Shisui Uchiyama seems to be shaped by his mother, but he radiates a different charisma outside of karate.

—"He battles like a crow. They remained mute but carried off their opponents, who screamed in terror, as he was laughing above them."

Each round will be limited to three minutes. Unfortunately, Hitoshi was not an athletic or martial arts guy who knew how the court procedure worked. The existing rules divide it into five rounds, each spanning around 15 minutes.

But such an unexpectedly violent match!?

The excitement in the air was outstanding as the referee lifted his hand to signal the start of the match.

Hibiki moved with compassion, contradicting his brute strength. He launched a torrent of punches, aiming for Shisui's face and body. Shisui remained quiet and reserved his gaze fixed on Hibiki's steps. Shisui took his time to avoid Hibiki's strike and landed a strong right cross to the jaw. Hibiki staggered back, temporarily unfocused.

('Most people launch lousy attacks on the face. In fact, the height difference makes it less difficult for me to get to their chins,' Shisui thought as he prepared his next move. 'Honestly, Hibiki is beyond my expectations; he's not quick but strong.')

Shisui pulled the opportunity and began throwing an outpouring of strikes and kicks. Hibiki fought to defend himself, but Shisui's strikes were too swift and precise. The more senior fighter was forced to withdraw, his face deformed with pain.

Shisui unleashed a well placed roundhouse kick to Hibiki's ribs just as he appeared to be recuperating. Hibiki doubled over and gasping for air. Shisui discovered the possibility and rushed in, hitting a low knee strike over Hibiki's solar plexus. The older fighter collapsed on the mat, powerless to carry on.

The referee counted to 10, and the match ended in one round. Shisui had won with a convincing victory, demonstrating his superior ability and expertise. The audience exploded in cheers, recognizing Shisui's brilliant performance.

As the two fighters were brought to their feet, Hibiki bowed respectfully to Shisui. A little smile appeared on his lips. The two clasped hands before hugging one another.

"Have you seen that? He is insane, despite the fact he is only 14," commented the person next to him.

"True! However... But! He fights so gracefully!" Their someone with exclaimed. "You should've witnessed the way he made that expression!"

Shisui stayed calm, as if he had been through this situation many times before. Not like he confronted it in a fight, but like his daily existence is full with blows and kicks... He appeared to think this was a child's fight.

Hitoshi followed up with a message from Shisui (who was already on the athlete's seat awaiting to sit after the match). He received the message unexpectedly, leaving him quiet with wide eyes.

[ Shisui Uchiyama ]

Thank you for watching me! Shinsou, your support means so much to me.

Let's speak for a moment, and I'm going to treat you to a parfait! Do you like it? Or do you want something else?

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

Whatever I guess, Parfait is fine.

.

Kazuto beat his opponent till he was powerless. He intended to destroy Teru further, but he held back because of the referee. This is his game, and he knows the jury is going to stand with him to win based on the outcome that he created.

But Shisui's presence made Kazuto frightened of the person he was about to fight.

The Uchiyama man's eyes conveyed something Kazuto couldn't see. No wrath or anger, only dying of drowning. Once he attempted him the previous day, his quirk, while useless in the match, showed an entirely new side of a growing root.

Shisui had the potential to destroy Kazuto's life, based to his foresight. He hoped that his opponent in the semi-finals would be him, making everything easier, but...

Shisui was unquestionably in luck.

Shisui approached Teru, who was having trouble rising up. Shisui carefully helped him sit up and gave him some water. Teru, who had initially been afraid, became more at ease. Everything changed easily with the man Uchiyama's beaming and his deep sense of compassion.

"The next time, fight me," Teru said a positive way, accepting the water bottle from Shisui. "I want to test my capabilities with you."

His head gave a bow enthusiastically, with a blush on his cheeks, "Sure, let's stay in touch until then, Furutani."

Kazuto disregards men who compete merely for the thrill of victory. Especially in his championship, it would be less difficult to destroy Shisui's spirit, right? He could barely wait to do it

Shisui, according to his promise, invited him to eat parfait together. At a café near the stadium, he introduced him to his parents.

However, both of their parents left them to have conversations together. That was good since Hitoshi wasn't sure whether he could manage the other two extroverts. Shisui's energy level was comfortable, but he still needed to adjust; foods with sugar would certainly help.

"The contest was quirkless, yeah?" Hitoshi inquired, spotting evidence of the anti-quirk bracelet on Shisui's hand.

Shisui chuckled. "Of course! "That's the truth about my power, isn't it wonderful?" He pretended to be haughty, but he really only wanted to make the atmosphere appropriate. "If you workout, you will undoubtedly grow stronger. Given that I believe you will choose to focus on defense than a confrontational approach."

"Mmh," Hitoshi spooned the fruit from the parfait, which turned out to be slightly sour. But tasty. "It's not as though my quirk would be helpful in direct combat either."

"Oh really? What's your quirk?"

Well, he does not know why. He initiated it, but he was the one who regretted it.

Truth or lies? If this is the end, it will become clear if Shisui is genuine or not.

"...Brainwash," he responded, keeping silent for a time. "I can use hypnosis to someone and control them with a voice activation. So, if they talk, I am capable of controlling them."

Shisui's silence rendered Hitoshi unable to look at him. Parfait suddenly tastes unpleasant. Before, the Uchiyama guy in front of him exclaimed in surprise.

"Surely you're the same as me!?"

Huh?

His head swiftly lifted to gaze at Shisui, who had been grinning toothily. He closed his eyes for an extended period before saying, "You mean?" You..."

"I do a lot of stuff with my quirk. But the most important thing is I can do anything with people's memories; create illusions, hypnotize them, and look into their thoughts." Shisui's eyes closed as he had a grin then reopened to a blood crimson with three commas. Then they transformed into a pinwheel. "It's terrifying, isn't it?"

His body stilled as he peered into those eyes. His mind became blank, and his spoon fell on the table. Hitoshi's attention was riveted on the spinning wheel in the back of his mind. He felt dizzy and was carried away by the surrounding conditions until he regained awareness with a snap of Shisui's fingers.

"Okay, I'd better shut it away," Shisui closed his eyes and then revealed his black eyes. "Sorry, that must've come as an unforeseen events."

Hitoshi dropped his eyes and joked. "Oh, no. "It's not scary, just interesting," he said with a struggling smile. "...Apart from you have to be careful, people could mistake that for a villain's quirk."

"Oh? Villain?" Shisui squinted and developed a thinking about viewpoint. "Is it solely because you are capable of controlling people that you are viewed as...?"

"Well, that's humanity," Hitoshi said, taking another spoonful of his parfait. "I kind of wish my quirk was different though."

Shisui understood he couldn't provide any kind of motivation or morale. If his words simply were not going completely change Hitoshi's circumstances. Regardless, Hitoshi had every right to be optimistic. He contemplated what he could do, but declined to force it on his new friend.

"I believe you are aware, I thought the same at at the forefront," Shisui said. "I wish I had not been born with this quirk—For me, it's not associated with the issue of me being thought of as an a villain, but instead I fear that my quirk will hurt other people...," Even now, the emotion persists. "Slowly, I embraced it."

The friend tilted his head, and Shisui responded with a canine smile.

The idea that led me to accept it was that I wanted to help people as much as I helped myself," Shisui said with an involuntary giggle. "I really don't intend to rely on the quirk or allow the quirk identify me as the Shisui those around me know, but myself as The Shisui I would like to be."

Nevertheless, when his name was Shisui Uchiha, he was unable to recognize this. He became feeling uneasy at times due to his worries of what he was going to achieve as a Uchiha.

"Again; I would like to be kind to others, trust others, understand others—," Shisui waved as he peering at Parfait in front of him. "—In an ideal world, I want to make myself and other people smile together. I would like to be satisfied with those who are in my life.

Even though that idea was merely his positive outlook, he has previously failed to make others happy while trying to accomplish the state of serene he sought. Whereas in this universe as a whole he couldn't change anything. Even so, he gets to express himself completely to others without fear of consequences.

"It must be tough on you. But I place my faith in you, Shinsou, to be the outstanding person you wish to be. Please hold on just a bit longer, okay?"

I'll be here for you.

With his keen eyes, he noticed Hitoshi dropping his head and trembling his shoulders. Shisui stayed silent, until he heard Hitoshi's earnest comments for the second time. Like tart strawberries and delicious ice cream—

"Thank You."

That was more than enough to make Shisui feel happy about his efforts.

There is a two-day pause before the semi-finals start. The winners of the tournament are Shisui himself, Kazuto, Ryou, and Mitsue.

While matches are split into Ryou vs. Kazuto and Mitsue vs. him.

It was completely unexpected. Mitsue and Ryou were both preparing to confront Kazuto, while Ryou was a brutal attacker like Kazuto. The two were not an ideal fit for Mitsue, who was typically calm and cautious.

To be completely honest, the feeling was like there was some sort of power play going on here that made no sense. If Kazuto wanted things simple, Ryou could have faced him rather than Mitsue—Kazuto is more capable of overcoming Mitsue than Ryou. At the same time, understanding that he was capable of defeating Mitsue and Kazuto could beat Ryou encouraged Shisui to think hard.

Unless it's fighting Kazuto in the final round. Wow, that's some unfortunate circumstance.

.

The following day, his theory was proven correct.

Mitsue, a little concerned but composed and stated, "Kazuto decided to fight you because he knew you would beat me easily," and a quiet groan was heard from Mitsue. "He intends to do an illegal ploy like he did just two years ago."

A plan to harm his opponent was also foiled. Shisui understood that no matter how bad a person is, there is someone with greater authority.

"...I know," Shisui said with a light smile. "You shouldn't need to be anxious."

Mitsue, despite being competitors, were friends who cared for one other. "No! Of course not; I am worried, Uchiyama dear. Even with insurance, healthcare costs are expensive and that bully could seriously hurt you."

The worry was genuine. Mitsue's only purpose was to save Shisui. Ryou must have done the same, training himself to the bone so Shisui would not be injured even if he made it to the finals.

Honestly, he felt worried about their genuineness. For truthfulness would harm them.

"You don't have to worry, Uehashi," Shisui said, soothing him down with a serious tone. "See! Trust me, I have a plan if I win over you."

This was merely a pilot project, but he was determined to try this way. Why? He sought to bring justice.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi takes into account that he admires Shisui's personality. His generosity is also abundant in the way he encourages him. It's weird to have a closest friend who has the same peculiarity, but it's a good feeling.

Today is the last day of summer school. His grades have improved. He quirk becoming so caught up with his melancholy that he neglected his studies.

When he headed back home, he wasn't expecting that his shirt collar pulled back. Again, the man was in a dark alleyway. Oh, this cannot be good.

When he struggled to get himself up, his stomach was struck with a catastrophic kick that knocked him incapacitated from standing. Looking up, he spotted...

"So this is Uchiyama's new friend? The villain of our school?” Kazuto chuckled. "Let's see what we can do."

And Kazuto isn't alone. Oh, just pray that he lives.

.

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

Sorry I can't come to your match, family matters.

[ Shisui Uchiha ]

Oh! Don't worry, I'm glad to know you're doing well with your family. 

Hope your family affairs go smoothly, pray for me for this semifinal!

The two long-awaited days have arrived.

Shisui felt slightly nauseated, but in a nice style. Mitsue matches him with his quiet motions, which are like a mirror of two things that are genuinely anticipated.

"Are you sure it will work?" Mitsue asked, nervously. "But if—if you.."

"I intend to try," Shisui assured. "My theory is..."

—He wasn't in need of to be harsh with Mitsue. Both generally agreed on something in particular as their opponent's aims were identical.

Their fight wasn't lasting long. It tended to be a convivial affair as opposed to a competition. With tremendous respect for each other, they participate in a quiet war.

Both competitors gave a courteous bow to begin the match. As they circled each other, anticipation soaked into the air. Shisui created the opening move, his feet light and fast as he feinted a blow to the body. Mitsue replied with a modest a shift in posture, easily avoiding the assault.

Exchange continued, with each combatant probing the other's defences and pushing their boundaries. Mitsue's attacks were forceful and direct, but Shisui's were more subtle and tricking. Despite their differences, they have the same aims.

As the fight progressed, the intensity increased. Mitsue landed a solid punch to Shisui's chest, but Shisui recovered quickly, his expression unchanged. In response, Shisui executed a series of graceful kicks, each one narrowly missing its target.

Suddenly, Mitsue stumbled, losing his balance for a moment. Shisui seized the opportunity, launching a powerful punch towards Mitsue's head. But just as the fist was about to connect, Mitsue managed to regain his footing and deflect the blow.

The two fighters stood still for a moment, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Then, without a word;

"I give up," Mitsue threw his hands up in the air. "Uchiyama is too strong for me."

Then the audience immediately whispered to each other. This statement was reconfirmed before the referee finally raised Shisui's hand into the air; "Uchiyama Shisui advances to the final round!"

.

Ryou knew he would be beaten up by Kazuto. Despite being ravaged and kicked, he had the energy to criticize Mitsue.

Since Ryou had arranged this for Shisui's own benefit. It wasn't that the young man didn't deserve to make it to the finals; he did, but his opponent was Kazuto! And Kazuto had planned to do the same thing. Gambling with an opportunity to be able to beat up the arrogant kid, Shisui.

But, with cracked teeth, he couldn't utter anything. He recalls having been taken to the medical facility and treated. He certainly hadn't anticipated the one he wanted to criticize and the one he intended to protect to make an appearance.

Ryou remained silent due of the difficulties. He tried, but —

Shisui, what exactly are he doing with those bizarre hand movements?

Shisui's palm shone green, then—it shined green? Shisui brought his palm closer to Ryou's cheek, and it eventually felt better. So pleasant that Ryou was able to speak again. The light was turned off only once it was ultimately deemed adequate.

"...You have a healing quirk?" Ryou inquired, caressing his cheek. It's no longer painful or requires medical treatment.

'Compared to this peculiarity, it is simply chakra control. I was a combat assassin during that time, and I required to develop my abilities in saving myself,' The youngest thought, 'I can do conventional healing as long as it isn't too difficult.'

Shisui shook his head, "I can replicate those quirks," a simple response. "Many things, actually. Thanks to my eyes—" Shisui's eyes were red, with three weird commas. "What's necessary is that you're doing well instead of focusing about whatever my quirk is."

Ryou snorted. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at Shisui, mindful of "You're not terrified of approaching death, are you kid?"

Well, come to think of it, he had died before and was planned to leave this world. Considering that Shisui had been reborn more than fifteen years ago, the concept of death appeared to have an entirely distinct moral.

"Exceptionally afraid," Shisui said carelessly. "But I cannot allow you try anything beyond this, Nagano, Uehashi."

Mitsue had been unambiguously silent everywhere, before murmuring, "I feel somewhat awful letting you continue to the the finals and face that psycho."

Shisui nonchalantly shrugged: "His bravado makes him egocentric."

Both of them might describe Shisui as irresponsible or downright mad as well.

Mitsue coughed out hissing sounds and went on to express himself. "So Uchiyama wishes to help us. He stated that he actually had an idea, which additionally represents the most plausible scenario," he explained. "Regarding his quirk..."

The young boy received all of the attention. "Nakama's quirk renders him stronger as he becomes filled with enthusiasm. Shisui stated that the hormone that influences this is endorphins, which he lifted and pointed to his temple. "However, the more endorphins there are, the more quickly it turns into anxiety and fear." This will undoubtedly make him weaker. There is a risk that he will act with greater force, but this could result in a disqualification.

Analyzing this plan, the two of them found that he meant to keep Kazuto back until he became very excited. After that, strike Kazuto's weak point.

"The majority of people are unable to battle him for longer than 2 minutes," Shisui said with a weak smile. "But I will attempt to take him through Three rounds."

Nine minutes!? Ryou got himself out of the mattress and began yelling, "You're nuts! You can't use your—"

"Take it easy, he uses his quirk, true?" Shisui snorted. Considering that the public would have known about the defending champion's cheating from the beginning. "That would reveal his cover. You just must have confidence in me just a tiny bit!"

They sometimes refuse to believe it, yet this is Shisui. They have faith in him.

And again waited for two days before the final began.

Shisui had a really bad feeling since Hitoshi hadn't contacted him in several days. Is there something wrong? The message arrived but was not read. He understood family affairs would be tricky; perhaps Hitoshi was in a difficult situation.

"Ma, I will be heading out to get something. Do you want me to give you something? Shisui inquired, staring at Shizuka, who was resting on the apartment couch.

Shizuka shook her head. "Nothing!" Just head to the hotel immediately; it's already 3 p.m.!" The mother responded. "Oh! Pudding if achievable, hehe."

"Sure, pudding," Shisui said with a slight smile.

.

Shisui proceeded to the relatively small shop where he and Hitoshi had their first talk. He claimed that the town's atmosphere made him pleased as it provided quick access to everywhere, compared to living on Japan's cold and remote shore. His old habits gradually faded, and he now relies more on contemporary items.

He accidently bumped into someone while shopping. He felt very bad when the person in question even grimaced. Then Shisui helped the man in picking up the goods, which included medicines and headache pills. Wow, picking up things.

"My apologies, were you—" Shisui halted. "Shinsou—!?"

Shinsou looks to be dying out, with bruises and a face that was pale. He hid his face under a mask and an outerwear hood, nonetheless he recognized who it was from those eyes: Hitoshi. Before Hitoshi was able to sprint, there was a moment of silence as Shisui grasped his hand.

Oh, Shisui's hand had such a strong hold that Hitoshi didn't daring to fight back. First, considering this was a public place, and second, Shisui was aware of his identity. The uproar here would only make the mood awkward and and it would appear that he was pushing away those who were kind to him.

"...Let's speak for a time," Shisui replied, his face serious. "Somewhere that is comfortable for you."

There was no further answer, before Hitoshi nodded, "...My house."

.

"My mom and dad were busy, which leaves just me..."

Shisui went into the spare bedroom of the two-story house. Putting his buying aside, he noticed Hitoshi continued to wear his hood. With a gentle code, his friend began to feel more comfortable opening up.

"Shit," he hissed.

He beheld an unpleasant sight. His friend's face was damaged and covered in scars. His friend's arms likewise had bruises that was apparent to have been caused by jagged asphalt rubbing against them. Some had recovered, while others remained horribly reddish purple.

Shisui was able to predict who it was, notwithstanding his intention not to guess. Hitoshi only grinned sadly. His expression had him feel increasingly awful, even though it was no one's responsibility that someone was treated this way.

"About how long has it been?" Shisui enquired quietly.

"...The day before your match," Hitoshi said tensely. "I'm sorry for lying over family matters."

"It's okay, honestly. I believe this must be..." Shisui shut his eyes and sighed. "Have you taken that to the hospital?"

Hitoshi shakes his head. "They threatening me," Hitoshi said cautiously. "Perhaps they've been watching me recently too... Possibly they are aware that you are around."

Damn it. Shisui hadn't ever been more frustrated in his second existence. He was patient, yet this is a horrible crime.

"...Come here," Shisui gestured with his hand. "I'll aid in fix it."

Hitoshi assumed that merely rubbing some kind of medicine on him would help him, but this was not the case. Shisui made a bizarre hand move with his hand and fingers before emitting a green light from his right palm, which surprised him.

Shisui clutched his arm with one hand as his right hand, which was 5 centimetres distant, proceeded to cure it with green light. The wound slowly faded and healed, as did the pain he felt. "So... Cool?" Hitoshi enquired. "You can do many things...?"

"It's since that my eyes do it well," Shisui explained with a poignant smile. "More specifically, my eyes are named... You might argue that this eye can do various things, such as copy jutsus—quirks, or heal." He apologised for the chakra notion, but it made more sense than his describing chakra. "I have to do some odd hand gestures—I term it the hand seal, yet to have it do much beyond sharpening my vision or illusions or whatever."

Everything finally faded. Shisui looked at Hitoshi in amazement before saying something that made him cringe and feel nervous.

Shisui answered firmly, "Take off your shirt, and let me heal the wound there," but it was evident he was laughing.

"I was unaware that that you were a pervert!?" Hitoshi replied, folding his arms over his torso. 

The other man lifted an eyebrow, humorous. "Ha—so you prefer being smooch by a doctor than my magical healing?"

"Ugh... Okay, fair... Don't do anything, okay? Hitoshi warned.

"I won't," Shisui said with a not strong smile. "But I need you to do a certain thing, more specifically tell me."

The situation fell quiet, and Hitoshi got tight and serious again, "..What do I must have to tell you?"

However, it proved to be a simpler task than he had anticipated.

And after two days, he was confident he'd win. The entire arena is pulling for him to win for the following one time; Kazuto is convinced that he will easily win and retain his title in this fight.

After all, he executed Ryou and Mitsue, and no one was going to be able to pursue him for vengeance, even if Shisui became swayed. Shisui is merely a weak kid who got lucky and advanced into the finals when Mitsue gave up, right?

Shisui then approached the ring, his black belt securely attached—he stood straight and fearless.

The excitement on his face (despite Shisui's blank expression) fuelled Kazuto's desire to destroy everything. Of course, he would reveal that his companion had recently been beaten up.

That certainly enough to startle him, wasn't it? That's definitely plenty! This euphoric adrenaline made him stronger, with thousands of distinct options. Shisui understood Kazuto had been thinking about a variety of topics. Among those ideas, he provoked Kazuto.

"Hey, Nakama," Shisui murmured gently. "If you come out on top, what are you hoping for suppose you will want?"

The audience whispered as Shisui's words rang around the arena, and the reporters could be heard concealing their excitement—the endorphins within Kazuto were surging.

subsequently has to have made him seem insane, yet he spoke joyfully about what he desired. He also knew what he could absolutely do to put out the flames that had just appeared: pour water—

"I want you to step down from the community of athletes."

Chapter Text

Wakasugi had faith that Shisui would grow up to be a quiet child without much fuss or challenge. However, his head suddenly experienced an extreme headache after Shisui declared that he would do anything that his opponent want if they win. Among all of that, the most terrifying thing was Shisui's withdrawal from the world of sports.

Oh, his son loves karate as it is his life. The fact that Shisui loves this world of athletics is often showed with the possibility of him becoming one of the strongest. That's right, Shisui is strong in his second chance. Usually he was quiet when he was the strongest and even humble, but this time he challenged? Something must be happening behind their backs.

Shizuka was also shocked to the point of almost fainting. She was like that in her teenage years too but this was too extreme? Okay, their son was a teenager but to act like this was a bit worrying with such high stakes.

The two parents looked at each other, knowing the media was covering their worries like a beautiful sight. While Shisui in front of them, was silent before surprisingly nodding his head.

"Very well," Shisui smiled faintly. "I will retire from the karate world if you win."

The media began to take note, the audience gasped, the Uchiyama couple almost lost half their lives just by hearing their son declare this in the mass media.

"However," Shisui smiled as his eyes also formed a smile even though they were closed. "If I win, I want you to reveal a few things. Especially about what happened at Nabu Middle School."

"..."

Like digging his own grave, Kazuto knew this would be more complicated than just him having to respect Shisui or whatever. Especially when the media covered him as a far cry from his older brother who is problematic—The media doesn't need to know who and what happened. But how did Shisui know about it? What was he really after?

Ha—this kid!

Without further ado, everyone was in their positions. Kazuto couldn't wait to make the boy suffer. He had to win—no matter what.

.

The audience seats buzzed with whispers. In the throng of people, there were rumors about someone nervously sitting and swallowing hard. Hitoshi truly couldn't fathom why Shisui would exert so much effort for a new friend.

Various individuals at Nabu Middle School were in worse situations than he was, and he had shared some details with Shisui. Among these, about 30% belonged to Kazuto's group, who tormented the quirkless. Hitoshi compiled the names of any victims he was aware of and recounted their circumstances.

“We just wanted to live a normal school life, is that really so difficult?” he realized he was sobbing as he explained these things. The memories of wanting all their suffering to cease still hurt... During his explanation, Shisui refrained from asking too many questions, almost as if he had understood everything already.

Of all the things Uchiyama could have mentioned before he left, he simply asked, "Do you want to see him fail?"

Then and there, Hitoshi entertained a dark thought: he wished to see Kazuto fail. Yet, wasn't that malevolent? His words escaped before he could stop them, "I really do. I want him to know what it feels like to be beneath."

Naturally, Shisui didn't speak much. It was his usual demeanor. Always kind-hearted, he was eager to assist others. His dark eyes shone with a faint red, a memory that Hitoshi associated with feelings of fear and being lost—

“Then I will win”  

.

As loyal friends, Ryou and Mitsue chose to back Shisui. They even took the trouble to craft a cardboard banner with 'Shisui Uchiyama #1' emblazoned on it, holding 'Defeat That Monster!' in their hands.

“Uchiyama!!! You've got this!!!” exclaimed Ryou with enthusiasm, both motivated and frightened.

“Take him down Uchiyama! Show him no mercy!!!'” Mitsue shouted as well.

Their excitement was contagious, drawing attention from others who also began to cheer for Shisui Uchiyama - The New Leaf.

.

A few people in the audience had disguised themselves to watch the unfolding events. Pro hero Edgeshot, real name Shinya Kamihara, is an experienced martial arts enthusiast, therefore he made the decision to take a break and go. Without being there in person, the karate finals wouldn't have the same excitement.

Furthermore, he thought it crucial to make sure the winner this year wasn't lying. Because of the "authority" that came from Kazuto's parents, the media disregarded his concerns and questioned Kazuto's earlier victory. Moreover, his agency forbade him from openly expressing his views.

He placed considerable hope in "Uchiyama," the adversary. Observing the match through a live broadcast, he was astonished that a 14-year-old, who is still quite young for a teenager, could defeat numerous opponents with apparent ease.

One of the aspects that left Shinya particularly impressed was "Uchiyama's" movements, which evoked the image of a "ninja" who had reached maturity despite his tender age. The quintessential manner in which a ninja moves—characterized by stance—instilled in him a strong inclination to make "Uchiyama" his protégé.

Meanwhile, his steadfast friend, Best Jeanist or Tsunagu Hakamada, merely frowned, stating, "They will engage in brutal combat."

"Nevertheless, Uchiyama possesses the requisite key," Shinya reassured with a subtle smile. "I was confident he could achieve it."

"That's quite heroic for someone placing bets on things like this."

The sarcasm was evident, and Shinya just... sighed, trying to conceal his embarrassment over being heroic in unheroic matters.

The whistle sounded; the referee indicated the beginning, and the match commenced with a flurry of activity. Kazuto, sticking to his aggressive approach, unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks, each hit powerfully executed. Shisui, on the other hand, stayed composed, skillfully parrying and avoiding Kazuto's assaults with exceptional agility.

The audience reacted with astonishment as Kazuto delivered a strong blow to Shisui's chest, causing him to stagger backward. But Shisui quickly regained his footing, standing upright once more. He retaliated with a rapid, accurate kick that struck Kazuto's leg, making him falter. The bout continued in this manner, a ballet of attack and defense.

Kazuto's unyielding aggression met Shisui's steadfast defense. The crowd was enthralled by the difference in approaches, the conflict of sheer power and measured precision. Some spectators even held their breath with every exchange. As the round neared its end, it was evident that Kazuto had controlled the early confrontations.

However, Shisui had endured, his defensive prowess proving to be a formidable barrier. The whistle blew to signal a halt. Both returned to their stances with Kazuto, unfortunately, not earning many points, while Shisui accumulated scores with his defensive maneuvers. But this is Kyokushin karate—the adversary must be defeated.

'Look at that brat,' I said. Kazuto clenched his jaw and lunged forward once more, while Shisui remained composed and grinned slightly. 'I'm going to ruin his future!'

Driven by his triumph in the preceding round, Kazuto persisted in his relentless assault. Shisui, however, was more cautious this time. Reserving his energy for until the moment was right to strike, he withdrew.

He capitalised on his opponent's hesitation, realising it. He struck with a flurry of powerful blows, every single one more lethal than the last. Shisui dodged and parried, but the constant assault was wearing him down.

Just before Kazuto unleashed a devastating blow, Shisui's eyes seemed to light up. He put on a weak front to entice Kazuto. Kazuto pushed forward, but Shisui counterattacked at the ideal moment.

'I would like him to sample the way it tastes of his own aggression!' After a brief time of smiling, Shisui said, "Hey—You have to understand what you're doing, right?"' 

The older man gasped, "Wh—"

He struck Kazuto in the solar plexus with a quick, potentially fatal punch.

Now, Kazuto was having trouble breathing and was breaking down to the floor. In order to ensure that he was secure from the onslaught, the referee hurried to his side. The unexpected turn of events surprised the audience, which went silent.

Kazuto got back up slowly. However, the time for round two had passed, therefore there was still one round left to decide the winner.

With Shisui continued calmly wiping the dust off his arm—while Kazuto, his legs were trembling and he was growing agitated.

"Make your way on, fight Kazuto!" Shisui grinned broadly. "One last round, okay?"

Whether it was sarcasm, exhilaration, or something else entirely, Kazuto's thoughts began to wander. Why? To put it simply, he began to doubt himself. He was scared because he was so alluring.

—Shisui fake a slender smile. Prior to his expression turning grave.

Yes, it has begun.

.

In her whole life, Shizuka had never realised her kid could act in such a way. Shisui, the child, is so caring. His changing expression indicates that he is becoming more mature.

Shisui, in Shizuka's perspective, as a mother and former karate athlete— nevertheless, he looked dangerous. The woman had no desire to find out what her kid would accomplish. But Shizuka wouldn't stop her kid from doing whatever was on his mind.

"That's why he is our children, huh?" Wakasugi gave recognition. His anxious expression gave way to a small smile that took front stage on his face. "He's a son that is willing to stand out for the weak."

Shizuka sighed. "You gave it to him," she grinned. "He has sense of caring."

Wakasugi felt proud of himself. He wasn't the most powerful spouse or a manly enough to take charge of anything. More than anything, though, what made him proud was understanding that his wife felt the same way about him.

Because in the end, after years of trying to have a child, Shisui was born from them. A 16 year marriage that they had a miracle, a child as great as Shisui. 

"And your strength," Wakasugi said, folding his book into a circle and using it as a megaphone before rising to his feet. "Shisui!!!" Strike him out!!!!"

The crowd yelled as well, and Shizuka rose up— saying, "Shisui, try your hardest!!!! You have our faith!!!"

.

After countless tries, Hitoshi's life was restored by Shisui, who is still standing strong following those fatal matches. Despite his expectation, Shisui was not cornered! His new acquaintance bided his time. He only needed to land one blow to inflict pain on the reigning champion. Both relief and anxiety were present—relief that Shisui had shown he could handle things and fear that he could handle Kazuto with ease.

In the short amount of days that he had known Shisui, he hadn't witnessed him look so serious. He had such a frigid expression. From the outer corner of his eye, Hitoshi noticed something that he didn't fully comprehend, yet his whole being was filled with happiness and relief. It seemed as though he was hiding something when he said Hitoshi Shinsou might be alright.

"Uchiyama, hang in there..." Hitoshi whispered, his hands clasped in prayer.

.

Shinya gave Shisui a gentle pat on the hands for his action. Although Tsunagu is simply concerned about this, it doesn't seem like he worries too much because he is aware that this is being supervised by professionals. He was concerned about how "Uchiyama's" expression alone would alter the mood.

Tsunagu called it an expression of exhaustion. We're sick of Nakama's bullshit and are confident that the final one round will provide positive outcomes. It all relies on how Shisui elevates him to an outstanding level as well. How he will create something novel that embodies justice in a heroic sense.

Tsunagu remarked, "You're too enthusiastic," glancing at Shinya, who was sitting, and grinning.

Shinya laughed, "Oh, you shouldn't blame me for recognizing such a brilliant young man." "He'll become an outstanding Hero, if he chooses to."

And I'm betting so much on this.

.

A smile spread across Ryou's and Mitsue's faces as they all began yelling the same thing.

"Uchiyama Shisui!!!" Shisui received applause from everyone, even both of them. "Bring your might to us! Please present yourself.

People were becoming more animated, and, gosh, things were actually going Shisui's way.

.

Love is something that Shisui enjoys. For him, love, support, and trust were more than sufficient. People still stood by him in spite of the fact that he had to try again and that he had failed. His parents, his pals from school, his new friends, and even complete strangers! Shisui, who had been so serious earlier, started to smile and relax.

He was aware that Kazuto was enraged that he was currently cornered. Shisui's surprising ability to murder him was a result of his pride being so severely damaged.

And was indignant that Kazuto had not considered his movements. When the new whistle blew in the very first second, Kazuto was the first to disregard the regulations.

His only desire was to bash Shisui up, so he stopped caring. His goal was to hold onto his position. He failed to need to humble himself because he was the strongest; he was him! The best is him! It is absurd why people hold him in such low regard!  He is a conceited brat whose wants to fight for justice, and Shisui means nothing compared to him!

The referee attempted to step in, but Kazuto moved too quickly and aggressively. He had to assault the young man since his ego was sufficiently injured; therefore he should be aware of the sensation.

Sensing the danger, Shisui fought on the defensive, dodging Kazuto's illegal blows. Kazuto was certain that he would discover a way to deliver a clean hit eventually. So—Finally, Kazuto caught Shisui off guard with a vicious elbow to the back of the head. The crowd gasped in horror as Shisui stumbled, momentarily dazed. The youthful athlete's teeth were clinched from the pain, but fortunately his arm was strong enough to keep it in.

"Shisui!" His parents made an effort to advance but were prevented from doing so. The organizers attempted to move forward, but the situation was too risky.

It was painful for Hitoshi to witness, so he shut his mouth in terror. Even if it meant ruining the game, Ryou and Mitsue attempted to move ahead and stop the lunatic before he attacked Shisui.

Tsunagu and Shinya are in the same situation, but they are awaiting. There is a notion, nevertheless, as Shisui is not so simple. And it's accurate—! 

Kazuto grabbed the chance and threw caution to the wind, charging straight at Shisui.

 
Shisui mumbled beneath his breath, "Foolish one." He looked up, half-smiling, half-glaring. "You definitely are a complete idiot."

When Kazuto prepared to strike again, Shisui used a sudden burst of strength to give Kazuto a strong bear hug. He picked Kazuto up from the floor and gave him a hard slam into the mat. As Shisui defeated his adversary who had injured so many people, a loud voice filled the room. For everything and everyone, for each other, and for the fate of the wounded.

—BUGH!!!???

It had a disastrous effect. After falling, Kazuto's body went slack as he laid there. It was already too late when the referee hurried to his side. It was his own desperation that had defeated Kazuto, not fair play. He struggled to rise off the mattress, but the pain left him lying there in a helpless position.

There was a brief period of silence. The game had been a devastating display, demonstrating the devastation that can result from unbridled anger.

Additionally, the judges concluded that Shisui was acting in self-defense. As the referee got closer to Shisui, he lifted his hand to declare him the winner.

"Uchiyama Shisui—this the years junior middle school national karate championship!"

Cheers broke out from the audience as Shisui won. His buddies Mitsue and Ryou, as well as his parents, hurried over to him. Others, such as cameras, are beginning to record this moment. He managed to hide the agonizing hit on his head under a composed demeanor.

"Shisui, congratulations! Many congratulations!" Shisui chuckled merrily as his mother planted a kiss on his cheek. His dad followed suit.

"We're proud of you!" Ryou embraced Shisui and gave him a pat on the back. "You're awesome!"

He also called Hitoshi, Shisui. Before he approached Shisui in the arena, Hitoshi gestured to himself; the two of them were looking at each other. After that, they both clapped once and laughed. Shisui saw a hazy glimpse of Hitoshi's face, which revealed somewhat teary eyes. But he kept it well hidden under a content smile that revealed his straight teeth.

"You said you would," Hitoshi grinned. "How can I give back? It makes me feel ashamed that I questioned you."

Shisui casually responded, grinning at his new acquaintance and the entire group, "Just be you as a person that's all."

Chapter Text

It reveals everything about Kazuto.

First, let's talk about the cheating. It was denounced by the public, particularly by the leaders of the karate organisation. They said this was looked into before it was deemed a crime, and that Kazuto and the parties involved were equally at fault.

Although it is overstated, Kazuto has caused a great deal of harm. The Mitsue episode serves as evidence that, despite the passage of over two years, here are still a lot of them, particularly the match with Shisui yesterday, which turned into a public critique of conceited young sportsmen.

Kazuto along with Nabu Middle School is the subject of the second. In the media, many people started to voice their disapproval of Kazuto's brutality. Evidence of bullying organisations targeting non-ideal quirks and quirkless people is the most widely circulated, and it incites resentment from both sides.

Kazuto and his companions were both disciplined. from government officials who dealt with this issue, not the school. such as the department of the Ministry of Education or groups that address the problem of bullying among young people. For students who have been victims, they even provide free counselling.

Many thanks to Shisui, but since he was merely assisting his best friend, Shisui didn't want to overstate things.

Since death is not a route to everlasting serenity.

.

Despite their busy schedules, Hitoshi's parents treasure him.

The fact that they love their kids, most individuals attribute love to economics. They work hard and devote themselves to give the greatest life. However, they overlook the fact that a life filled with love is the best kind. A strong bond between families that is not material.

Shisui recognised that he was the family's pillar, just as he had been in his early years. In terms of costs and the difficulty of obtaining employment, the current economy was more challenging than he had previously anticipated. 

He was actually appreciative that he recognised how challenging it had been for him to manage the economy while trying to give his family the greatest life possible. Once more, things will change in life, thus...

Many people claim that Hitoshi's parents are an important form of pride.

Hayato Shinsou, his father, works as a medical professional at an exclusive hospital. He has no spare time for his mother because he is the most busy man in Hitoshi's life.

Rikako Shinsou is his own mother, however. His mother is a public servant who works in an office for a state-owned business. Although she is similarly busy and holds a high status for her position, she spends more time at home.

Then, when they eventually found time to meet, Hitoshi felt both thrilled and angry.

Everything concerning Kazuto was made public, including a letter of notification to everyone connected to him. For the first time, both the victim and the offender acted swiftly when they received the letter identifying Hitoshi as the victim. Even though they should be working half the day, they sat in right in front of him and look at him like...

It doesn't feel flattering, and he's not sure.

"Is there a connection between this and your frequent attendance at the stadium?" Hayato was crisp as usual.

"With that Uchiyama." Hitoshi let out a quiet hiss, "He is not that Uchiyama," and then he paused before turning to face them both. "Right, that's related."

"I believe that you should've told us before, Hitoshi," the mother said after that. It was a nice statement, and as usual, Rikako was somebody who Hitoshi couldn't fully blame. "We will help you earlier."

Regretfully, the word "earlier" seems a little, well, strange. At home, Hitoshi hardly ever saw them.

He always received late responses to his communications. When someone must take action first, why did they state this as though they were the ones most accountable—in fact, their contribution?

He wasn't quite furious when he said they were unkind for neglecting him thus far for work-related reasons.

Accepting it was extremely difficult, but he understood it would take time, so he was unable to defend himself.

"...But if I had previously attempted earlier, how significantly might things have changed?" he subsequently questioned.

Rikako's eyes were wide, and Hayato was uneasy. Hitoshi was about to obey when he discovered that the internal urge was stronger. When the child eventually decided to be open about everything, his heart was racing with anxiety while he said a couple of things.

"To what extent will this belief be put to the test?" Hitoshi then shut his eyes. "I'm so sick of coping with everything this—To continuously believe, understanding you guys—"

"Hitoshi—" this time his mother's reproach. 

"In all of this, I feel isolated. I feel alone and I—" Hitoshi said, lowering his head and grinning ironically. "—A stranger ultimately saved my life by standing up for me while I was on the verge of—!"

When he eventually learns, he will involve Shisui in his problems.

According to the doctor, his body and head were both in a good state. There were only a few bruises, no serious or mild injuries. If Shisui had didn't do anything drastic, it would mend in a few days. Shisui was obviously not a fool for making himself do something.

For a while, he only took part in quick interviews with press organisations including newspapers and radio; by the second day, the controversy had subsided. He is currently spending time with Hitoshi in the final two days before departing for Monbetsu once more.

All right—

Before speaking to the individual in front of him, Shisui paused. You mean Hayato Shinsou? 90 percent likeness to Hitoshi.

It was the father of his best friend. Till the sportsman let his drink to cool, they remained motionless in the awkward situation.

They were both at a coffee house where Hitoshi had been by himself before his father arrived. In the past, Hitoshi also claimed to have struggled with both of his parents—Oh, he understood, he was definitely being pulled in. He simply acknowledged that he was astonished.

"..." Hayato gave them a negative look, while Hitoshi, who was seated next to them, remained mute.

At last, he reached for a drink and took one. After tasting the bitter tea, Shisui began the conversation by saying, "I'm glad to have met you, sir. I'm Uchiya—"

"I understand exactly what your full name is," such a cruel statement! Hayato was now looking directly at Shisui, and Shisui smiled softly. "Hayato Shinsou."

Shisui said quietly, "No problem, Mr. Shinsou then," with a small nod. "Because we must have met for a reason today... Do you have any information I should be aware of why?" Shisui is conscious that he is being impolite, and if his parents found out, they would undoubtedly smack him up.

From his selfish side, he can also provide a good explanation for his actions. For example, why must you spoil your child's mood? Knowing that this was his getaway rather than meeting his parents, Hitoshi appeared irritated, afraid, and exhausted by his father's presence. Before a relative bothered to meet them, the debate must have lasted a long time.

""...barely that preoccupied," the father said without saying anything. "I simply require to find out what happened among you two."

The scowl on Hitoshi's face deepened as he clicked his tongue. "Can't you just leave what's explained alone? I'm telling the truth—" "Get yourself out of right here first, Hitoshi."

"Get out of here first, Hitoshi."

"Father—"

"I don't accept but." It was a hiss of emphasis.

"Listen to me first—"

"I'll be happy to explain everything."

Shisui was more terrified of both of them pair becoming louder than he was of the argument. He didn't want his involvement in a father-son fight to land him in the newspapers.

Additionally, this might be a statement he felt compelled to make. First of all, if it is really Hayato's domain to believe he has an negative impact on his child, he gets anything to exchange with Hitoshi beyond their friendship. Second, since he was certain that Hayato needed his confirmation of his son's incredulity.

"But I want you to keep in mind that Shin—no, Hitoshi, must also be involved in this," he said, putting on his most impressive career-making smile. "He deserved to hear my honest explanation as well, Mr. Shinsou."

"..."

"..."

Nod.

Shisui took a taste of his drink and thought to himself, 'Oh, this is currently going to be long.... Should I pursue a career in psychology?'

.

Without adding any embellishments, Shisui started to speak candidly and describe how he met Hitoshi. He also gave an explanation of his plans. He just considered helping at first, but determined to be a supportive buddy to Hitoshi.

Personally, Hitoshi believes that both of them of them can have a friendship that is mutually beneficial because he too requires a friend who respects him and who shares his interests. In the literal sense of a friend—that's what a friend does.

Only he was certain that they might involve able to support one another, so who understands what Hitoshi will provide him in the future? His close friend, who felt valued for the first time, likewise had this assurance.

Because Shisui once gestured for Hayato to stay quiet, Hayato has a tendency to be passive. The father crossed his arms in a final sigh after finishing. "..." Despite his silence, he said, "What a hassle..."

A hassle? Shisui found it surprising that the word "troublesome" was used in such a negative way.

Hayato said sarcastically once more, in an odd way, "I certainly hope that this isn't merely a teenage phase," with concern. "This—" .

Say it with a smile!

"—As a parent, it is also your duty to help your child make a commitment during their phase, isn't it?"

In perhaps the most flat tone imaginable, Shisui's statements startled his friend's father, while Hitoshi was coughing on his drink. A young athlete with a killer nice smile on his face is described as really irritated.

"Please allowed me to speak as a child here," Shisui began in the most solemn tone, "between, yes, whether you really think it's an inconvenience in the bigger picture of caring care of your own children—" a break. "Sir, we were naive youngsters with no knowledge. We know very little about commitment. Ultimately, we lack the power to establish any firm policy."

And—Shisui graciously clarified afterwards. "Ever since you're the responsible adult here, I wish to apologize if you thought my tone is harsh—isn't it your responsibility to perhaps guide your son?" he said after achieving his goal.

Hayato begins to furrow his brows in contempt, saying, "You—"

"Yes, sir, you are quite busy." He took a serious stance after saying, "I know you must have had hundreds of thousands at least, of things to do instead of hearing to a kid criticize you. However, if circumstances prevent you from providing full guidance, the very least anyone can do is to listen. from beginning to accept the justifications for his deceitful behavior."

Upon reflection, wouldn't it be foolish for him to support Hitoshi? At this point, they were, after all, fellow teenagers. Shisui was not the kind to criticize "parenting"—he believed that sometimes even a child deserved to speak up—even though he might be in agreement with the best parenting practices.

It's possible that Hitoshi is scared of interfering with your job schedule or just of complicating matters. Not to put all the blame on you, but Hitoshi is equally to blame for his anger and inability to trust you as a father. Shisui held up his hand slightly so that no one would interrupt. "Just as that we're again, it's also your responsibility for being incapable of able to set an example of trust that Hitoshi needed in addition to your relationship with your spouse, Hitoshi's mother I do assume."

He took a drink and sighed softly after finishing what he believed he had to say.

Hitoshi kept quiet since he believed it was only right that he made mistakes as well. He doesn't publicly acknowledge it because his sense of self is so great. He continues to retain that input.

Probably , he was either irritated or still processing Shisui's remarks, Hayato remained silent. This child is bold and reckless, he says. Though he used some offensive words, he liked the way he reasoned.

Shisui said, "My suggestion—" once more. "You may go deeper because I'm not an expert in this. Or you could speak more clearly at home."

On the receipt, he wrote something. After finishing, he gave Hayato the pen that the barista had left behind. It was fortunate that his writing was considerably simpler to read in this life than in his first.

"It's my parents' number," Shisui revealed. "Anyway, I don't mind if you want their advice. Or simply to establish a bond—as close friends to friend parental figures," he added with a charming grin. "It's unfair if I am acquainted with you while Hitoshi is unaware of who my family is."

"..." After focusing on the number, Hayato moved back to Shisui. "This could prove useful."

"Well, yes, no doubt," He shrugged casually. "I believe this will be useful in the future."

Fortunately, Hayato wasn't around because he had an unexpected surgery to perform at the city park. There is a river near the city park, which is typically a spot to watch the sunset. They are seated on the green grass, their hands meeting for holding each other before releasing their grip.

The afternoon reflections are beautifully viewed from the river. Other than brief remarks, they hadn't got much to say. Shisui was aware that Hitoshi found it difficult to say. It makes a new dread certain, so it doesn't matter if it's merely an apology or anything else.

He chose to say, "Hey, Hitoshi," first.

Hitoshi looked around. When his first name was used, he was taken aback. However, "Yes, Uchi—Shisui?" didn't bother him.

"...Not much, just happy that you're here now."

"Oh."

Hitoshi gazed at the water in the river. He didn't comprehend Shisui's statement, but he is definitely here. He's right next to him— Clarity was subsequently verified.

Shisui said, "What you went through was quite difficult," before sincerely gazing into those purplish blue eyes. "I'm not furious at all—not at all—with your father or anybody. Given the negative experiences we have had, I can honestly say that I am relieved to have you here."

Hitoshi's dry saliva made his throat feel heavy. Shisui didn't really understand this, although he meant well. With a bashful smile, the purple-haired man placed his hand over the back of his neck and lowered his head.

"You excessive praise me," Hitoshi remarked.

Because perhaps all of the plans he believed to be ideal for everything would have ended when the plan improved if he hadn't encountered Shisui. While he had no one to turn to, when he thought he could no longer do it...

He protested, "I have no intention of overpraising you," the way he talk. "I'm simply acknowledging the simple fact that you've lived this far—You are showing to me just how thankful it makes me that you're currently here."

"As catastrophic as it sounds, my win would surely be overturned midway," Shisui had responded once more. "It's good to have something to fight for. It is hoped that you can also remind yourself of that. at least to defend yourself."

At first, he didn't consider Shisui to be anyone, but in the last several days—the evidence just now—

Could this be a fresh start? Had he found someone to believe in at last? Because he felt that more than any uncertainty.

Grasping his knees, Hitoshi said, "You can potentially save me form this bad thought," He buried his face to conceal his feelings, but he meant it when he said, "...I find myself thankful I had the opportunity to know you too, Shisui."

Chapter Text

How unexpected that their relationship has evolved.

Hitoshi turned to face his father, who immediately removed a grill from the home warehouse. His mother cleaned the house in the meantime. Surprisingly, they are a continuation of the meat-burning action. Additionally, there are additionally those who cook other foods, such veggies and meats.

"Are we horrible parents?" Rikako questioned him. "We have caused you pain. We have a lot of parenting lessons to learn."

"No parental figure is perfect," was the succinct remark. "Something suddenly is also not ideal."

"... Okay, we understand, Hitoshi."

As it happens, they called Shisui's parents to invite them to visit before Shisui leaves for Monbetsu tomorrow. They arrived as guests with a beverages in their grocery bags at 4 p.m., as it turned out.

"Good to meet you! I didn't believe we'd have the opportunity to meet as fellow parents so quickly," Wakasugi grinned as he bowed to Rikako and shook Hayato's hand. "Referring to the way you like orange!"

Rikako laughed and politely accepted the beverages. "Oh, my," she said. "Sit down please, we're going to get you some glass."

Shizuka eagerly nodded among them as well. She looked at the young man with the purple hair and then gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, her eyes matching Shisui's. She stroked him in a way that was also familiar to him—more like a friend than a "auntie" figure.

"Hey, fix your posture!" At Shizuka's signal, Hitoshi automatically straightened his stance. "All right, let's take a seat. I brought your favourite snack, or more specifically, sushi—".

"Please mom, why would you choose my friend?" Whining, Shisui took Hitoshi's hand. "Just excuse my mom, often she's barely conscious of her age—whack!?"

Hitoshi winced, but he also giggled as his mother gave Shisui a tender pinch on the waist. The comfort of home, oh.

.

They are aware that Hitoshi's parents were aloof but not that docile. They were also introduced to the friendly environment together with Shisui's parents' extroverts.

After exchanging glances, the two kids burst out laughing on their parents' antics. Hayato and Wakasugi are both bright individuals. One is a writer, and the other is a doctor; in the intelligent version, their rationale differs. Come finds out that they have a passion for playing Shogi, a type of Japanese chess.

"Hey? "That's unfair!" They could hear Hayato defeat Wakasugi in Shogi once more.

"Very fair, old man!" Hayato chuckled; Hitoshi had never heard such a happy laugh before. "Perhaps you might want to think this when portraying the story of Shika which is a shogi prodigy."

"Bah, that is my son's suggestion okay?" Shisui objected this time since he felt uneasy when consuming beef. He felt ashamed because his child's distinct imagination had produced the most intelligent of them.

Hitoshi turned his head for the side and noticed his mother using her phone to communicate. It sounds like they have something in common when you hear them speak.

Has to do with the Korean drama currently airing presently on television. As the two mothers chattered, "Isn't he attractive? He is a part of this play!"

"Oh!? Really?" As her watched the show with Shizuka, Rikako said again, "Yeah, he's handsome."

"It makes sense why he appears this way... He's a fantastic king actor."

The statement, "...I had been wishing for the size of him when I was pregnant with Shisui, fortunately my son is tall," added even more bitterness to Wakasugi's loss. Since he was taller than the older one, Hayato found it humorous that he couldn't sympathise with Wakasugi's predicament.

"...It's exactly the same, except I'm starring in version B—" Wakasugi patted Hayato's back this time, as he was coughing from the fact.

His eyes were blank at first, but Shisui could see them coming back to life. The wound would not heal completely, it would leave a scar. But at least that was how Hitoshi would live with it.

"But this is delicious," Shisui commented, cutting another piece of meat. "Speaking of life—do you have a girlfriend yet?"

Hitoshi shook his head, "Not yet, maybe later." His neat-toothed smile appeared. "Don't lose to me, okay?"

"Heh! I could get a lot of girlfriends," snorted his best friend. "Even though we are friends, we are also rivals!"

"Yes, yes, yes," rival, funny. "We are rival-friends, Shisui."

'But we will support each other.'

The next day at Haneda Airport, Hitoshi was there to see them off.

Though there was still an hour before departure, the atmosphere felt heavy. Shisui knew Hitoshi wasn’t the type to cry easily, but after everything that had brought them closer together, the boy wasn’t ready to let him go.

Two spent time talking in the waiting area while the gate remained closed for another 40 minutes.

“…Nakama dropped out of school,” Hitoshi said quietly, sharing the news he had learned from the school group and the official announcement. “He didn’t apologize or say anything directly, but it’s enough. It feels like I can finally breathe again.”

“That’s good to hear,” Shisui replied with a faint smile. “If he ever bothers you again, let me know. I’ll handle him myself.”

Hitoshi shivered slightly, knowing Shisui would likely follow through with any number of reckless actions. “He’s already been taken down by you, at least in terms of his pride,” Hitoshi chuckled. “For me, you don’t need to go that far.”

“Bah,” Shisui rolled his eyes. “That guy needs a dose of reality—his delusions are completely out of control.”

Their conversation carried on until only ten minutes remained. Shisui noticed Hitoshi glancing at the clock more frequently, especially as five minutes passed and the final five minutes approached. When the time came, both of them stood up.

It was difficult. Shisui wanted to stay, but he had his own life to handle, with responsibilities waiting for him. Meeting again would be challenging, but the promise to stay in touch was something they both held onto.

“…Well, I guess this is goodbye,” Hitoshi said with a bittersweet smile. “Thanks for everything, Uchi—no, Shisui.”

Not the most expressive farewell, Shisui extended his hand. Hitoshi shook it briefly before lowering his head again, hiding the sadness that Shisui had seen countless times before. Still, he understood—it was always there.

Shisui understood. Without saying anything, he opened his arms, and the two of them shared a warm, genuine hug.

Hug was warm—no tears, just enough to say they’d remain on good terms. When they pulled away, they exchanged a quick high-five, followed by brighter smiles. 

“Remember to keep me posted!” Shisui said with a grin as he stepped toward the gate. “Thank you too, Shi—no, Hitoshi! Goodbye! Until next time—!”

But then Shisui paused mid-step. Hitoshi noticed and tilted his head in curiosity. Shisui turned back, his expression soft but resolute. Without raising his voice, he mouthed the words, knowing his best friend would understand.

“I look forward to seeing you become the best Hero in Japan.”

It was a sweet, hopeful farewell, fitting for Shisui’s departure to Hokkaido.

—The best Hero? Dream big. And if you ever get there, you’ll make everyone proud.

In his 14 years of life, Hitoshi had experienced plenty of happiness. Amidst the struggles brought on by quirks, social challenges, and everything else, there was always one hand ready to reach out to him.

That hand belonged to Uchiyama, a good friend whose presence proved invaluable. Despite knowing each other for only a short time, Shisui had always been there to support him. Hitoshi didn’t mind taking the time to know him better—people like Shisui were rare.

As Hitoshi walked out of the airport, he was surprised to see Hayato waiting to pick him up. Thankfully, he hadn’t already flagged down a taxi.

“Dad, aren’t you busy?” Hitoshi asked, breaking the silence. 

Hayato shook his head and offered a faint smile. “I took a day off,” he replied. His usual cold demeanor softened as he made an effort to start a conversation. “Did you have fun?”

It wasn’t a question Hayato typically asked. Hitoshi could sense the mix of emotions behind it—maybe even some lingering anger. But Shisui’s words echoed in his mind: sometimes, with family, everything starts too late.

“…Yeah, I did,” Hitoshi murmured softly. “Thank you.”

If this was the beginning of a new chapter in his life, Hitoshi owed it to himself to honor Shisui’s influence. He would live his life with purpose, not just for others but also for himself.

Because above all, he would continue forward as Hitoshi Shinsou—not anyone else.

After some time passed...

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

//Photo

I managed to get into UA, general education.

[ Shisui Uchiyama ]

Really? Dude! Congratulations on your acceptance to UA!

You have to treat me, or I have to treat you? Haha! But seriously, that's so cool.

Fight on, I'll teach you some cool tricks :⁠^⁠)

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

I don't want you to teach me that thousand year Death technique.

[ Shisui Uchiha ]

That's the coolest technique of all time hey, the creator would be sad if he heard you talking like that.

( After all, the creator named Konoha's White Fang would definitely be proud if his proud technique was used. )

---

[ Shisui Uchiyama ]

Damn, you're so cool!? Fighting with... Who's that? The green haired one?

The masochist? I assume.

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

What

Masochist.

Shisui— ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ)

[ Shisui Uchiyama ]

He's a real masochist, right??? He broke all his goddamn bones???

Like the bones can heal anytime

How much did he spend on insurance—That's amazing for sure.

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

Oh, you mean Midoriya.

Well, I guess that's part of his quirk? Breaking bones.

We have Recovery Girl.

[ Shisui Uchiyama ]

That's slavery to Recovery Girl.

So it's like.

Quirk Moves: Cracking Bones, masochistic level pain restraint.

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

You fucker—

I shouldn't have laughed.

Mr. Aizawa would definitely ponder this.

[ Shisui Uchiyama ]

That's the truth!? 

---

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

//Photo

Boo.

[ Shisui Uchiha ]

Mmh, so you were a psychopath all this time.

Which body should I bury?

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

That's make up, you dipshit

[ Shisui Uchiha ]

I thought makeup was supposed to make you look like Kim Kardashian. 

Or Jefrey Star.

Imagine you with that lip filler.

And twerking body.

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

🖕

[ Shisui Uchiyama ]

Yezz sirr

-----

[ Shisui Uchiha ]

THE FUCK

HELLO HITOSHI SHINSOU???

YOU MADMAN FIGHTING A VILLAIN???

Where are the other pro heroes??? Why are they sending a LITERAL TEENAGER to war???

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

Good question my friend.

There is a good explanation.

[ Shisui Uchiha ]

Not that—???

Good explanation—you're crazy.

Listen bro, if you die I will dig your FUCKING grave. No matter if I bring you back to life, you know too many of my secrets

I can't let the angels know my secret that I told you

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

Didn't know you loved me like that

So possessive, I get goosebumps

[ Shisui Uchiha ]

I defeated Kazuto for you to live, not for you to kill yourself fighting the villain???

Patriotism is necessary, but please remember your life is still long

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

I also fight this villain so that you can live.

Calm down Shisui, as long as you and the citizens are safe, everything is fine.

[ Shisui Uchiha ]

...Are we dating now?

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

Why am I friends with you huh.

---

[ Shisui Uchiha ]

HITOSHIIII

Hey, hey, hey—

You're still alive, right?

It's been 4 days, you haven't been active—

[ Shinsou Hitoshi ]

I do. Have to change phone though.

My mistake for bringing a phone to the dangerous zone.

[ Shisui Uchiha ]

Relieved because at least there will still be someone to take care of our child, I'm busy working for our family okay?

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

Child?

What.

Wait.

My cat is not your child???

[ Shisui Uchiha ]

I gave her a name

It's literally Miko Uchiyama

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

You did not—naming MY CAT with your last name.

[ Shisui Uchiyama ]

So we're getting divorced, then? Fine.

Let's go to court for further steps.

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

We were never married.

Or ever?

[ Shisui Uchiyama ]

sObS! How could you!? How dare you!?

[ Hitoshi Shinsou ]

Oh, shit.

Here we go again.

Just enough to tease Hitoshi. Shisui chuckled, setting his phone down before rising from his seat.

As he walked, he straightened his posture, taking in the grandeur of the arena. It was spacious, luxurious, and a clear symbol of the honor he now carried. Trusted to represent his country, he had to take that trust to the next level.

Camera flashes illuminated the arena, capturing every angle of him and his opponent. Cheers erupted, a blend of voices speaking in various languages, including his own. The judge stepped forward to explain the rules briefly, accompanied by the lively voice of the commentator.

"As we know, we have a prodigy from Japan! Representing the International Youth Karate Olympics at such a young age—Uchiyama Shisui!"

The sound of a whistle cut through the noise, bringing him back into focus.

Life’s paths were never straight, Shisui knew that better than most. He had learned from his darkest moments that a second chance was not just a gift but a responsibility. He had much to prove, not to others, but to himself. This second chance was worth loving, worth fighting for.

“Shisui!!!” came the voices of his parents, Wakasugi and Shizuka, cheering him on from the stands.

Meanwhile, back in Japan, Hitoshi raised his hand towards the television. Though his voice couldn’t reach Shisui directly, his heartfelt prayer carried all his belief: “You can do it, Uchiyama!”

With the support of those who believed in him, and the past that no longer held him captive, Shisui felt something deep inside.

“I…!”

A smile etched itself across his face as he took his stance, ready for the challenge ahead.

He would keep moving forward—for this life, for himself, and for those who stood by him.

Chapter Text

Looking into the mirror of his past, Shisui realized he had created a new ideal for himself.

He stood up, fully embracing his new identity as Uchiyama, leaving the Uchiha name behind. The past was gone—it had only ever offered false hopes, assuming the worst instead of the best.

“I won’t forget the old memories, but I’ll bury them and take them as life lessons.”

Shisui knew that the pain he once felt as Shisui Uchiha was real. Loyalty, principles, identity, and heart—those things were still a part of him. But love, he understood, is a word that can easily shift with happiness and acceptance. He realized that humans are shaped by the happiness they move toward, not by the happiness that looks back.

“To those of you in eternal heaven... I hope you're happier.”

He still carried their names in his prayers. Even though they were no longer with him, he would live his life side by side with the lessons they left behind—the bitter, the sweet, and everything in between. He wanted to live well.

Shisui Uchiyama just wanted to stand on his own two feet, with happiness or....?

.

A sweet kiss on his cheek, and Shisui felt deeply grateful for the warmth surrounding him. It wasn’t from a stranger, but from his mother, the woman he loved dearly.

Shizuka didn’t mind the sweat pouring down Shisui’s face, even though he had just been hit with a deadly kick. As a mother of 16 years, she couldn’t hold back her emotions, gently wiping his sweat-covered face and showing her care despite the intensity of the situation.

“Oh, my son,” she said, her voice filled with pride, even though the stadium was full of onlookers. She didn’t hesitate to pull Shisui into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

Wakasugi, not to be left out, rubbed Shisui’s back before moving to massage his shoulders. Shisui, sitting down after the fight, was taller than his father, making it hard for Wakasugi to reach.

“That was one deadly kick. Lucky your teeth didn’t fall out,” Wakasugi joked as he massaged Shisui’s neck. “Don’t you feel sorry for your opponent? He’s passed out.”

“Ah, yes, my face is too handsome. Kicking it was enough to knock him out,” Shisui smiled, though he was still tired. He found comfort in the exhaustion, especially with his mother’s pride and his father’s support by his side. “Thank you.”

Shizuka blinked in surprise before pinching Shisui’s nose. “Don’t thank us! We should be thanking you,” she smiled warmly. “You always make us proud, Shisui. Always.”

“Well, don’t make decisions on a whim, alright?” Wakasugi added, agreeing with Shizuka. “We know you’ll think everything through carefully, even if we don’t tell you.”

Because you are our son.

There was a deep sense of pride and nostalgia in the air. Things might not have been as perfect as when he was an Uchiha, but in this moment—it felt like he was soaring high, something Shisui Uchiyama would always hold close to his heart.

“…I want something sweet…”

“Pudding?” Shizuka asked, smoothing his hair gently. “Or cake?”

“It’s definitely a parfait,” Wakasugi replied, and Shisui couldn’t argue—after all, it was true.

“Well, who would say no to a parfait, right?”

[ SPORTS DAILY! Gold Medal in Karate—Uchiyama Shisui (16) Wins First Place in the International Youth Karate Competition, 2135! After a long wait, Japan regains its championship in its home sport! ]

Thanks to the news, Shisui’s name became known to the masses. From social media to newspapers, television, and even whispered conversations among people, his victory was seen as something deeply satisfying. His efforts had led him here, but those efforts were not without sacrifice.

Among the lessons he learned were the importance of hard work, the value of seizing opportunities, and the understanding that even when you fall, there’s always another path to the top. He also realized that when you’re tired, it’s okay to pause and rest, only to rise again.

Shisui had studied these principles for over 16 years, and now, at this moment, he finally understood the true meaning of perseverance. Looking back, it seemed like he had missed this concept in the past, but learning it now didn’t feel too late. Fate had been kind to him, leading him to this point. Though there were times he wondered if coming back to life was the best outcome, he also realized that perhaps this was fate’s way of guiding him to fulfill a purpose.

Whether it was surviving the day or simply living, Shisui finally understood what he had been searching for all this time. He didn’t need to be strong; he just needed to try his hardest and be the best version of himself.

Some time ago—

"By the way, Hitoshi."

"Yeah?"

"...How did you make that err, blue birdie— no, ehm, ah! X account?"

His lovely best friend could be heard choking on his drink on the far side, "Cough—Well, it's simple," he replied, still trying to process the question. "You just need to sign up with an email and create a username. Why do you ask?"

Shisui leaned back on his bed— his gaze thoughtful. "I was just curious. People have been talking about it a lot lately, and I thought maybe I should give it a try too."

"...You're joking right?"

"Man, I’m even still confused with Instagram," Shisui laughed.

Technology was never Shisui's area of expertise. Can you picture a ninja using a phone? It would probably be more useful for gathering information or online battles rather than engaging in deadly physical confrontations. And Hitoshi doesn’t need to know that; he just considers himself a kid who isn’t allowed to have a cellphone at young age.

Hitoshi chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, it's not that complicated. Just follow some people, post stuff, and you're good."

Shisui raised an eyebrow. "And that's it? Seems a bit... Shallow?"

"Maybe, but that's how it works these days. Everyone's about quick connections, no one has the time for long-winded explanations."

The snow outside is beautiful as always— looking out the window for a moment, he is deep in thought. "I guess... It's just that I don't know if I want to be part of all that. Seems like too much noise."

Somehow— Hitoshi's understanding reached the point where he knew Shisui didn't like to elevate things or make them seem grand; "You don’t have to get involved. But if you want to see what people really think about you—whether you want to or not—you might want to give it a try."

Uncertain—. "I suppose... But does that mean sharing personal thoughts, or maybe something like, a glimpse of my day?"

"You don’t need to overshare. Just keep it light. Post a picture or two, maybe a quote, and let people run with it?" 

"...Yeah, let them talk... That’s been happening for a while now."

.

No matter what Shisui did, it would never be enough in a society so deeply entrenched in hero ideals.  

This was a world where heroes were the standard of greatness, the embodiment of morality and selflessness. In such a system, any deviation from that ideal—no matter how small—was seen as a flaw (Shisui understood this well). 

It wasn't just about what he did, but how it aligned with the values this society worshiped. And for someone like him, who had walked a path both aligned with and divergent from these ideals, it meant that his every action would always feel insufficient to meet the expectations of a hero-obsessed world.

Of course, with real event.

.

The week that followed the match—Sunday, the second week of April, 2135— 

People knows— Shisui’s victory in karate was acknowledged, but not without criticism. While many celebrated his achievement, there were voices that belittled it, picking apart the details with dismissive remarks:  

"His victory isn’t something to be proud of. A kid his age winning gold in a fight? Shouldn’t the real appreciation go to the students of the Hero Course instead?"

Such comments stung, not because they held truth ( a bit of it ), but because they reflected the skewed priorities of a society so enamored with heroism that it overlooked excellence in other fields. It wasn’t enough for him to excel in a sport or represent his country; his worth was measured against a different standard—one he hadn’t signed up for (maybe).

His achievements, his sacrifices, even his efforts to maintain balance in his life, would always be scrutinized under the lens of a hero-centric culture.  

No matter how patient Shisui was, he was still human. Criticism, especially when it struck at his sense of worth, left its mark. He couldn’t deny the sting of the comments, even as he tried to rationalize them.  

Shisui was no longer the Konoha Shinobi who lacked emotions. He is a normal human here, and he has feelings. He... Wait— Does that sound selfish?

It was only natural, then, that he questioned himself.

"There is more to appreciate."

"There is more to acknowledge."

"It's just a win."

"It's just a gold."

"It's not that heroic."

'Perhaps they’re right,' he thought, feeling the weight of their words. He acknowledged, even if begrudgingly, that his focus on winning the match might have seemed callous in the context of the lingering pain of war.  "Maybe I should have done more—shown more empathy, more awareness...".

For Shisui, who had once lived as a soldier, he understood the yearning for recognition that came with being a war hero. It was a sentiment he had never experienced in his first, wasted life.

Now, as he reflected on the countless comments appearing on his X feed, he found himself wondering— "Is karate just my way of seeking the recognition I never had in my first life, or...?"

.

Even so, Shisui continued to fulfill his duties as a student.

In Monbetsu, there’s a school dedicated to athletes known as the "Ice Knights." The name comes from the cold, harsh climate of Monbetsu, where the athletes are trained to be as resilient as knights, enduring extreme conditions. The school was founded by a young boxer of his time, and the founding generation still holds leadership today.

Jonetsu High, where Shisui attends, seldom sees its athletes until they debut on the international stage in high school. The principal, Yuki, is a former fencing athlete in the physical mutation class. He is a strong advocate for the idea that both talent and education are crucial for success, encouraging athletes to work hard and reach a world-class level.

As one of those who believed in the balance of talent and education, Shisui appreciated his time studying. However...

—Break time on Monday after math class is perfect for gossiping.

"Well, bro, people are talking shit about you."

Shisui couldn't help but smile faintly at Rui Ishihara, his classmate and the school's volleyball athlete. 'As always... You look like Genma, but with shorter hair,' he thought, trying to mask his amusement. "Ishihara. Ah, how should I put it..." 

The volleyball player raised an eyebrow, sensing the hesitation in Shisui's tone. "What’s up? Spit it out, man."

Ehaled and shrugged, his expression more serious now. "It's just... you know, people love to talk. And I’m not sure if they’ve got the full picture."

"...It seems we're talking in different contexts," Rui said with a frown. "Have you seen the latest news?"

And offering no response.

Running a hand through his hair, why is he even asking? It's Shisui, after all, "I forgot you didn’t even realize you had a cell phone sometimes." Shaking his head. "Of course you don’t. But seriously, there's been a lot of noise about you lately. Some people think you’re ignoring all the attention."

Again, about heroes.

There was no denying that a phase of fatigue had settled in. Shisui made the decision to not react to the comment he knew was meant to be negative.

"I mean, well... I can understand that," Shisui said, his smile tinged with resignation. "...I'm just an athlete after all."

The cold air hung between them, a tension building in the silence. It seemed like Rui was irritated by Shisui's submissive nature, his frustration visible in his posture and tone. 

While Shisui just stared to his left, his gaze fixed on a blank space, his nerves creeping up on him. His mind raced, trying to find the right words, but the silence only deepened his discomfort. The weight of Rui’s frustration lingered in the air, making it hard for Shisui to find his footing in the conversation.

"...Bro, if you say that one more time, I'll swear these hero nationalists need to manage their fanatics better," The smirk on the volleyball athlete's face was just so... questionable. "One way to prove it was by—"

"Peace—!"

"Violence." 

And the opposite blinked, his expression faltering for a moment as he processed Rui's words. The tension between them thickened, and for a brief second, the playful yet serious tone in Rui’s voice made the air feel heavier. Shisui's mind raced to make sense of it. Was Rui serious, or was he pushing for some kind of reaction?

"Wait, Rui, no—" Shisui started, trying to stop him before things escalated further.

"Rui, YES."

"Rui, NO—???"

.

.

.

Because he was so human, Shisui felt a surge of anger. Not at people, but at himself—for letting the pressure slowly erode his spirit. 

He still held onto the passion for a better life, but it was becoming harder. The constant attention, the judgmental looks, and the lingering question of whether he even cared—it all felt like a strange controversy. What had started as something positive, his win, had spiraled into something far more complicated than he had ever imagined.

Why was everything so complicated? Shisui couldn't understand it. No matter how hard he tried to explain, the more he admitted to himself, the more it seemed like there were things he still didn't grasp.

He found himself questioning whether he truly had empathy for the fate of the heroes, or if what he felt was just pity for them. Especially for his peers—the high school students who, like him, had been thrust into the chaos of war.

Was it true understanding or simply a reflection of his own struggles? He couldn't tell anymore. The lines between compassion and helplessness blurred the more he tried to make sense of it.

What does appreciation even look like these days? Isn't it enough to simply express it and show it?

Why did it feel like there was more to it? Did he have to be the one to embrace everything, to embody the ideal of gratitude and recognition, even when it didn't feel right?

This victory, which should have been a moment of pride, didn't feel fulfilling. The sweet parfait that once served as a reward now tasted bitter.

"...But I'm selfish for thinking," Shisui closed his eyes, attempting to drift off to sleep. "That I'm also in so much pain...".

Life had been easier for him this time. No trauma to carry, just a life he had to walk through.

That he hate being human for something so simple, sometimes— being human meant feeling, and sometimes, feeling was the hardest thing to bear.

Nirengeki Shouda had always wanted to be strong. And in Shisui, he found an idol. Someone close to his age, with talent and charisma. A humble and calm figure, someone he dreamed of becoming one day.

Dspite that, it seemed that mistakes were always being found in Shisui. The way these criticisms were voiced made Nirengeki feel conflicted. He admired Shisui, yet saw how the world around him seemed to tear down the very qualities that made him worthy of admiration. 

It felt like pity, for sure. Shisui didn’t deserve all the hate. Nirengeki admitted that Shisui was often more reserved when it came to answering simple questions, like, "Does he deserve to be so appreciated when the country almost...?"

It was a question that lingered, one that seemed to challenge Shisui's right to be recognized for his achievements, especially given the context of the country's struggles. 

"But if he kept his mouth shut without any clarification..." And another— "And why did he need to explain himself? He was respectful enough."

As he knows by online platform, Shisui had always been careful with his words, respectful of others and their perspectives. It seemed harsh for people to expect him to constantly justify his actions, especially when he had done nothing to disrespect anyone. 

And Nirengeki could see that Shisui had already done his part—his victory was his own, and his silence didn't mean he was indifferent. It was a way of respecting the complexity of the situation, not running away from it, yet people still demanded explanations he wasn't obliged to give.

Chapter Text

[ "U.S.-san's" triumph on the international stage is a direct result of the independence secured by the heroes.

His success shouldn't overshadow their sacrifices. At the very least, he should express gratitude by acknowledging or participating in the collective celebration of our victory in the war. ]

This was a statement from a blog authored by "xxx_0Hero" on Media X, accusing Shisui of showing a lack of empathy through his social media activity. 

The blog linked to a detailed critique, arguing that Shisui Uchiyama, as a public figure, had a responsibility to act differently. It criticized his posts for being overly focused on his personal achievements and pointed to what was perceived as his indifference toward national concerns. The author insisted that Shisui's responses fell short of what was expected from someone in his position.

Faced with these accusations, Shisui found himself at a loss for words.

.

Blaming himself brought no answers, so Shisui opted to quietly endure, staring blankly at the barrage of hurtful statements.

Everything spiraled when the mass media began celebrating his achievements, inadvertently overshadowing the recognition for heroes his age who had been risking their lives. The narrative painted him as a symbol of victory while leaving others feeling neglected—fanning the flames of controversy.

In that sense, the blame should fall on those who overpraised him, not on Shisui himself. Yet, no matter how it's framed, he always seems to end up on the wrong side of public opinion.

The most bitter truth to accept is learning to smile through it all—when that's the only thing left to do.

"Man, just be angry, I beg you," Hitoshi's voice crackled through the line, laced with frustration. "I can't even pretend anymore, seeing you so calm—it's making me want to switch places and start throwing punches."

Shisui replied, his tone light but clearly resigned— "I wish I could be Godzilla, I swear. Just smash it all and call it a day."

"Same here," Hitoshi muttered, half-joking, half-serious. "At least then we’d have an excuse to wreck some stuff."

"Oh, Hitoshi... You're on the hero student side," Shisui teased with a light smile. "You could get detention for that."

"Well? I guess heroes don't need appreciation anymore if that's the case," Hitoshi laughed, his tone half sarcastic. "For someone so innocent to take the blame... That's where hero society failed. Yet, you still believe I'll be one of the best."

"...Because I know you will."

In the middle of training in Dojo, after deciding to take a short break, Shisui stood off to the side, catching his breath. He had been teaching the younger students, guiding them through some of the more complex karate techniques.

As usual, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction when mentoring. It reminded him of his own growth, how he had once been the eager learner, and now he had the chance to share his knowledge with others.

He was in the middle of helping a nervous junior perfect his stance when he heard someone calling his name. Turning toward the sound, he saw one of the coaches waving him over. With a polite nod, he excused himself from the group, handing the student over to another senior. Shisui walked over, wiping his brow with a towel, wondering if something was wrong.

"What's wrong, sir?" Shisui asked as he approached the coach, his voice calm and respectful.

"Ah, Uchiyama," the coach greeted him. "There are a few things the reporter would like to ask you for the sports blog."

"Oh!" Shisui's eyes widened slightly. He wasn't exactly thrilled about being in the spotlight again, but he understood the importance of promoting the sport— After this one of the consequences came into the spotlight. "Well, I guess I should go then. You know how it is, they can't wait to get the story out."

The coach chuckled lightly. "Exactly. They want your perspective on the competition and your thoughts on the recent win. Just a quick interview, nothing too serious."

Nodded, Shisui silently preparing himself for the usual questions. He knew the routine—questions about his victories, his training, and his future plans. He preferred staying in the background, he understood that his role as an athlete and a role model meant he had to be ready to share his story.

"Alright, I'll head over," Shisui giving the coach a small smile before walking toward the waiting reporter.

.

Walked toward the dojo hall, mentally preparing for the usual round of questions from the reporter. When he arrived, the reporter greeted him with a smile, and they quickly began the interview.

The questions were all standard at first, focusing on his recent performance, his training routine, and how he felt about his victories. It was the type of attention he had grown accustomed to, even if it was never something he fully embraced.

However, the tone shifted when the reporter asked a question that caught him off guard.

"So, Uchiyama, regarding the latest issue... What do you think? Your opinion on the issue."

Shisui paused mid-signature, his hand hovering over the paper. The sudden mention of the "issue" made his heart skip a beat. He knew exactly what they were referring to— the public backlash and the growing criticism surrounding his stance on the hero society. Something he had hoped to avoid discussing, but it was unavoidable now.

He couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room anymore. With a sigh, he set the pen down and looked the reporter in the eye and camera.

"It's quite complicated," Shisui replied, maintaining a calm and composed expression as he turned to face the camera. "To be honest, I don't consider myself a hero, and I don't think it's my place to speak on the controversy surrounding that title. I'm simply an athlete doing what I love. I train hard, I compete, and I try to represent my country on the international stage."

Ah, he probably shouldn't have said it like that. That wasn't very polite of him, was it? He tends to categorize everything too much.

But that’s the truth—he has no responsibility for carrying the weight of someone else’s expectations. He never asked to be seen as a hero, and yet, people have projected that onto him because of his success. They expect him to be more than just an athlete, to embody ideals that go beyond his sport.

He paused, making sure the reporter understood the gravity of his point. "Athletes like me train hard, work towards specific goals, and aim for excellence in our field. Heroes, on the other hand, are individuals who are expected to serve others in ways that go beyond just their personal achievements. I don’t think it’s fair to conflate the two. My role is to represent my country on the athletic stage, not to be a spokesperson for broader social issues."

People blurred the lines, conflating his accomplishments on the field with some larger societal role. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t his burden to carry. Yet, no matter how many times he said it, the pressure seemed to follow him everywhere. 

And social issues—he was part of society, no doubt. He understood the importance of standing up for what was right, of contributing to the greater good. 

There were issues that needed attention, but did that mean he had to be the one to speak up for every cause?

"But," Shisui added with a soft smile, "I also understand that many people do look to athletes and public figures for inspiration, and that's something I take seriously. However, the expectations people place on us are often based on their own perceptions of what a hero should be."

The reporter, still pressing, leaned in slightly. "So, do you not see yourself as a hero at all, Uchiyama? Many people believe that winning the way you did represents more than just athleticism. Do you not think you have a responsibility because of that?"

The question of being a hero—people thought of him as one. Well, thank you. But in that case, it meant that being a hero had become so common, so diluted, that it wasn't just about traditional acts of heroism anymore. It was no longer reserved for those who performed grand gestures or saved the world.

—"Hero in society today" seemed to have shifted. It wasn’t just about fighting villains or leading armies. Now, it could be anyone who achieved something extraordinary in their field, who stood out and made an impact, whether it was in sports, entertainment, or even online spaces.

Shisui considered the question for a moment before responding, his voice calm but thoughtful. "What exactly makes someone a hero?" he asked, turning the question back on the reporter. "Is it about what they do in the public eye, or is it about what they stand for, even in private?"

In his own way, Shisui felt sorry for them, for those who had to live with that kind of pressure. He wasn’t sure he wanted it for himself. Being a hero might have its rewards, but it also came with a heavy price.

He couldn’t help but wonder—was it worth it? To be constantly reshaped by society’s expectations, always striving to meet an impossible standard? He didn’t know if he could handle it. He wasn’t sure if anyone truly could.

He stood tall, his hands now resting at his sides. "Ive always tried to lead by example in my own way—through my actions and my dedication to my sport. But being labeled a 'hero'—that’s something that goes beyond just winning or performing. It’s about the responsibility that comes with that title. I’m still figuring out what it means to be one, and if I ever reach that point, I’ll let my actions speak for themselves."

Sometimes—

Lived through a world ravaged by war, a world where even the best of people were cast aside for a single failure, where expectations were high, but mercy was in short supply. That world had worn him down, numbing his soul until he could no longer tell the difference between pain and indifference.

Now, in this new life, the weight of those same expectations—the pressure to always be the best, to always perform flawlessly—felt hauntingly familiar. It was as if the same numbness from his past life had seeped into his bones, and he knew all too well the price of trying to live up to ideals that were impossible to meet.

The reporter seemed to hesitate, then asked, "But doesn’t the public already look at you that way? Aren’t you, by definition, a hero to many people because of what you’ve done?"

Again— again, again... He was an athlete, not a politician or activist. 

Yeah... The only way he had learned to cope back then was to laugh. Laugh at the absurdity of it all, at the cruelty of a world that demanded perfection but offered no room for failure.

So, even now, when the world expected him to be a hero, to embody something more than just a person, he found himself resorting to the same defense mechanism.

He would laugh. It was easier than confronting the weight of expectations, easier than facing the truth that no matter how hard he tried.

.

Shisui shook his head slightly, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. "I’m just someone who competes," he said firmly. "I’m just someone who strives to do their best. I believe everyone has their own role to play, and mine happens to be in sports. If people want to see me as a hero, that's their interpretation. But for me, the title doesn't come with the medals. It comes with what you do outside of that." He smiled faintly as he laugh. "And right now, I’m focused on being the best athlete I can be, nothing more."

The reporter looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, before lowering the microphone. "Well, thank you for your time, Uchiyama," they said, still somewhat taken aback by his response.

The reporter's question lingered in the air— sudden question, like a challenge. "If you could learn about heroes—would you learn about them?"

It was a question that felt almost like a trap. His first instinct was to dismiss it, to make some cynical remark about the society that had warped the idea of a hero into something beyond human. But no, he couldn’t give them that. The media didn't need his disillusionment, they needed the polished, polite answer.

About heroes?

He wasn’t interested in learning about them in the way people expected. Not as icons, not as figures to be idolized. No, he wanted to understand them as human beings—flawed, struggling, and living under the same impossible pressures that everyone else did. To say that would be to open a door to his own discontent with the way the world viewed heroes.

A measured response, one that fit the role he had been thrust into.

"Yes, I would," Shisui said with a small nod, a polite smile on his face. "I believe that understanding their experiences—what they go through—can teach us a lot. Not just about the title, but about what it means to be human."

He didn’t need to elaborate further— sure, the reporters had expected something more typical, something to fit the narrative, but Shisui’s words were far more nuanced.

After a brief silence, they nodded, muttering, "Thank you, Uchiyama," before walking away.

Shisui watched them go, his mind still turning over the question.

Hero...

The idea of heroism, as society defined it, felt like a cage. Life—that was what mattered. The real human experience, with all its struggles, contradictions, and fleeting moments of triumph. That was something worth striving for, not some external label that forced someone into a mold they might never fit.

He let out a quiet sigh and walked away from the reporters, letting the quiet hum of his thoughts settle. In the end, it wasn’t about being seen as a hero.

Perhaps, that’s what people needed to understand.

.

.

.

Ah, how he hated that his answer went viral in the media. It wasn’t about being "open-minded" or "too liberal"—though, maybe that’s how they’d spin it. Shisui could almost hear the headlines now. "Athlete Shisui Uchiyama Rejects Hero Title, Sparks Debate on What It Means to Be a Hero."

No, it wasn’t any of that. He knew he probably came off as too "mentally philosophical" for this kind of conversation. It was just the product of living twice, of having to rethink everything, of seeing things with a deeper understanding than what was immediately visible.

He thought about it again—perhaps depression wasn’t really his style. Back in the 2,5 Arc first chapter, he had seemed so heavy with it, weighed down by the world’s expectations, the struggles, and the burden of being labeled something he wasn’t. Now, he looked back and found irony in it. He— well, well...

Was it even depression, or was it just the weight of living in a world that demanded more than anyone could give? Maybe it was both, or maybe it was neither.

His second life had given him a different perspective, but it had also made him realize just how much of it was out of his hands. And maybe, just maybe, it was fine to laugh at it all.

Nirengeki stood there, speechless, as he processed Shisui’s latest statement. It wasn’t just about being a hero—it was about everything surrounding it, the expectations, the pressures.

As a hero student himself, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of confusion stir within him. Was being a hero really just about the title, or was it more complex than that? He knows, but someone who was just a common person, or even a stranger, to point out such an uncomfortable truth about the failings and pressures of being labeled a hero… It was mind-blowing.

In Class 2-B, at U.A., the hero school, they weren’t like the flashy, attention-grabbing Class 2-A. They didn’t have the same loud displays or constant recognition. Instead, they focused on critical thinking—questioning what it really meant to be a hero, not just following the traditional ideals. They didn’t simply accept things at face value. They analyzed, they pondered, and they made the discussions part of their learning. 

"It wasn’t easy to be the person everyone expected you to be." That much was clear. And yet, Shisui had chosen to face those expectations with a sort of quiet defiance—not by rejecting them outright, but by questioning them.

Yosetsu Awase, always quick with his words, couldn’t help but voice his frustration. "Man, can you believe that shit he said?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "That's hurt as hell. An athlete, huh? Talking like he’s above it all, like being a hero's some kind of burden we should all avoid. You can’t just back out of that responsibility."

"Awase, he wasn’t talking about 'avoiding'," Sen Kaibara interjected, his tone calm yet firm. "He’s talking about how people need to stop expecting so much from others, especially someone who’s not even trying to be a hero in the first place."

Yosetsu scoffed, clearly still not fully convinced, but Sen's words seemed to have made an impact, at least on some level.

Then, Yui Kodai, always the quieter one, spoke up. "A pure, kind-hearted person... never expected someone like that could exist," she said softly.

"Ha, or he was trying to be some psychologist or something," Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu muttered, clearly not impressed. "His opinion was way too polished. Like he’s trying to fix everyone's issues with his words."

"I agree," Togaru Kamakiri chimed in with a shrug, his tone blunt. "He doesn't seem that sincere. If he really felt that way, he would've said it a lot sooner. Now, it just feels like he's acting all high and mighty. Maybe he’s just dead-brain naive."

"What a harsh claim," Juzo Honenuki spoke up, his voice calm but pointed. "He is a public figure, true, but he’s the same person he’s always been, even since he first stepped onto the stage. He’s being pressured to answer all these questions, and yet, we should at least be grateful for the fact that one issue has been resolved."

—!

"But of course," Tetsutetsu started, clearly not backing down, "We're signed up for this. We stand for what—"

"U.A isn’t much different, you know?" Hiryu Rin interrupted, his voice calm yet firm. He glanced at Tetsutetsu before continuing. "And everyone is the same. They'd polish their answers, avoid stepping on any toes. The truth, though? They can’t accept it."

There was a brief silence before Manga Fukidashi added his own commentary, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I mean~ If I were Shisui Uchiyama, right? I would've said, 'fuck it all' and just told them, 'fuck off.'" He laughed, shaking his head. "Bro, too much pressure. I couldn't handle all these expectations."

The class burst into laughter at Manga's blunt response. About how society, and even their own school, placed burdens on those who were expected to be more than just who they were. 

"Exactly," Hiryu added, his tone less harsh but still pointed. "If they really want the truth, they need to stop acting like everyone’s a hero just because they’re good at something. It’s exhausting to always have to be perfect in everyone’s eyes."

Sometimes, this class had a way of cutting through the seriousness with their casual humor, making everyone see the absurdity in overcomplicating things.

Manga grinned, clearly pleased with himself for lightening the mood. "And like, can you imagine? An athlete suddenly becoming a social activist for the 'hero' cause? That's just not in the job description." He chuckled, shaking his head. "It’s like asking a chef to suddenly solve world peace because they can cook. Doesn’t make sense."

Despite being happy— Nirengeki couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, a sharp glance cutting through the usual chatter of the classroom.

His gaze shifted toward the source, and there, standing at the edge of the group, was the blonde-haired student—his expression unreadable. Those piercing, mysterious eyes flickered with something unreadable. He had been observing the entire conversation from a distance.

There was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Was he amused by the debate? Or was he simply indifferent?

Hitoshi stayed quiet, his focus on his training as he used his quirk, but the weight of the issues still lingered in the air.

He knew Shisui was under fire again, being questioned and criticized by fans and the media, and it frustrated him. He had his backup account, an anonymous way to defend his friend, but Shisui had told him not to—he didn’t want the attention or to fuel the fire.

While he practiced his quirk, he decided to bring up his frustrations with his homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Shota, ever the observant mentor, noticed the underlying tension in Hitoshi’s words.

"You seem to have something on your mind, Mr. Aizawa," Hitoshi remarked, wiping sweat from his brow.

Shota, as usual, responded dryly, "Same goes to you." Something's weighing on you.

Hitoshi could sense the slight shift in Shota’s demeanor, and with that, he added, "In short, I feel helpless."

Shota paused, his attention sharpening. Hitoshi wasn’t referring to anyone specific, but the frustration in his voice made it clear that he was talking about something deeper.

"People won’t be kind to you, even if you try," Hitoshi continued, his tone thoughtful as he took another shot at perfecting his quirk. "Mr. Aizawa, if they’re kind enough, do you take advantage of them too?"

Shota paused for a moment, the question hanging in the air. He hid his phone subtly, not wanting to draw attention to it. After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low but firm.

"...No."

The message was simple but loaded:

[ Let's talk about Shisui Uchiyama — Nezu, Headmaster ].

Chapter Text

Sometimes Nezu wondered where Shisui Uchiyama’s genius had been hiding all this time. Had he been keeping it to himself, knowing that the ideals of being a social hero were just too complicated?

In his spare time, Nezu often scrolled through social media, and that’s when he stumbled upon a strange controversy surrounding Shisui’s "appreciation." It made him question why such a calm athlete, focused on his sport and not on war, was suddenly at the center of a problem. 

As the headmaster of a prestigious hero school, Nezu could understand why people saw Shisui as an issue. But it seemed clear to him now—people just wanted to break the kid’s spirit.

Shisui had managed to stay remarkably composed through it all. He was quiet, not giving in to arguments or unnecessary explanations. He didn’t defend himself, not even when it seemed like everyone was waiting for him to react. But eventually, the time came for him to explain what a hero really was.

However, Nezu couldn't entirely agree with Shisui's view. While he respected the boy's perspective, he couldn't shake the worry gnawing at him. Nezu knew all too well that hero politics went far beyond ideals.

In reality, it was about manipulation, exploitation, and power games. The truth was, heroes didn't just fight villains—they fought each other, too. 

He couldn’t help but feel a sense of impending danger for Shisui, trapped in a system that could easily twist his idealism into something darker.

As absurd as it seemed, Nezu knew he had to protect Shisui before he got caught in the Hero Commission's game.

The system was brutal, and it didn’t care for idealism—it only cared for results. Shisui was young, naive in some ways, and his desire to do good was something the Commission could easily exploit. But the headmaster also understood something: even if they fell now, there was always a chance to rise again, as long as they recognized the gap between their ideals and the harsh reality of the world they lived in.

Nezu couldn’t let the boy get lost in that gap. He had to make sure Shisui didn’t lose himself before he even got a chance to fully understand the system he was stepping into.

.

"But aren't you overthinking this?" Shota asked, his brow furrowed in concern. "The reason you brought the kid here was to protect him from the hero system, right?"

The teachers were gathered in the staff room, the meeting about Shisui Uchiyama coming to an end. Nezu’s idea to bring Shisui in as a transfer student had been discussed, and the atmosphere was tense.

Now, it was ending; just Shota, Sekijiro Kan—the 2-B hero course homeroom teacher—and Cementoss or Ken Ishiyama, the literature teacher. The idea still hung in the air, and the conversation shifted to whether Nezu was overthinking the whole thing.

Would bringing Shisui to U.A. truly protect him, or was it a step too far?

"But we can't deny that he has... something we want to catch up to, right?" Nezu asked with a smile. "His idealism."

The room fell silent, and Nezu took a sip of his coffee, letting the moment hang before continuing, "And he wants to learn about heroes. Isn't this a great opportunity? We could use his empathy, his perspective, and even his marketability." A joke.

"Whoa, I didn’t think it would be that money-oriented," Cementoss said, trying to lighten the mood. But then he added, "...It wouldn't be fair if we just used him for... Publicity." 

Sekijiro tried to be rational, despite his dislike for the idea. Idealism, he thought, could change. The athlete was still young and naïve, and he probably only said he wanted to learn about heroes as a formality, to avoid conflict.

The he crossed his arms, his gaze focused on Nezu. "But you can't expect him to just adapt to this system without understanding the consequences," a pause. "Hero society is complicated. It’s not just about ideals or wanting to make a difference."

As much as Cementoss still trying to ease the tension, he nodded in agreement. "It’s not that simple. Even if he has good intentions, the moment— he steps into that world, things change. The system will either shape him or break him."

It was unfortunate, though, that the system had already broken someone.

Funny, isn't it? An athlete stepping into the world of heroes and getting caught up in all the politics. Congratulations, indeed. A piece of national talent now becoming a pawn in the political game.

It was a cruel irony that someone who had once been celebrated for their skill and dedication was now forced to navigate the complexities of a system that often chewed up those who tried to fit into it.

Nezu smiled softly, as if contemplating their concerns. "I understand the risks, believe me— There’s something about Shisui that’s different," a sips. "Maybe it’s his perspective, or the fact that he hasn’t been hardened by the same pressures. He’s not a typical hero candidate, and that’s why I think he could be more than just a pawn in the system." 

He paused, letting the words sink in. "If we don’t give him the opportunity, someone else will—someone who might not have the same care or understanding of what makes him unique."

If they focused solely on money, then yes, Shisui could undoubtedly make them even wealthier. His presence would sway public opinion, and the idea of a celebrated athlete like him joining U.A. could bring in a flood of attention. Nezu, however, wasn't just seeing the dollar signs.

He was focused on who Shisui truly was—a person standing on a delicate balance. His position was like being on a scale, weighed down by both expectations and the very ideals that shaped his perspective. 

About the complexity of his identity... How long could someone like him stand strong in the face of it all

"Can we really control what happens to him once he's in the system?" Shota leaned back in his chair. "You’re asking us to take responsibility for a kid who’s already drawn attention. It’s risky."

Almost wistful smile crossing his face. "Sometimes, the biggest risk is in doing nothing at all." 

Of course, if Nezu could help him, he would do so in the most empathetic way possible. Shisui's desire to learn about heroes, despite his reluctance to be lumped in with them, was something Nezu recognized as important.

The hated idea of conforming to the same expectations placed on heroes, yet he understood that it was the only way to truly grasp the complexity of the world they lived in. If Shisui could learn from the very system he questioned, perhaps he could find a way to navigate it, and in the process, reshape it in a way that made sense to him.

A sense of this cruel world 

Sekijiro shook his head, there was a reluctant acknowledgment in his eyes. "He’s also stepping into a world that won’t treat him kindly."

To the world that wasn’t so kind, where ideals and ambitions often collided with harsh realities.

A world where expectations, corruption, and the weight of the past shaped every decision and every move.

How could there be any world worse than this? 

A faint smile from Nezu, "That's why we have to guide him, right?"

It IS supposed to be a normal morning im Saturday—until Shisui received a letter. A scholarship offer from U.A. The message, as usual, was wrapped.

"Hey, I wanted to learn about heroes," he had said. And the response? "Sure, but you also need to help us."

Shisui rubbed his eyes, still half-asleep, the weight of it all sinking in. 'Goddamn it,' he thought, feeling the bite of reality hit him in the face. 'Hitoshi was right. I should’ve prayed I’d wake up as Godzilla or something.' 

.

Wakasugi could tell his son was stressed—his face said it all. While Shisui could feel his father's gaze on him, steady and knowing. For some reason, it reminded him of Kagami Uchiha's watchful eyes (why did his father have to be similar to his grandfather in another life!?). It wasn’t like Shisui was protesting about how much his father cared—Wakasugi’s observant nature wasn’t the problem.

And then there was his mother, Shizuka, who was doing her best to cheer him up with soft reassurances that everything would be fine. ( Her demeanor reminded him so much of Mikoto, his beloved aunt, who always seemed to have a way of making things feel lighter, no matter how heavy they seemed ). He tried to act normal, to mask the nerves that gnawed at him. 

“We know you’re nervous,” Shizuka said softly, her hands gently massaging Shisui’s shoulders. “Sometimes, we want to understand something, but the only way to truly learn is to face the things we dislike the most.”

A simple analogy, but it hit too close to home. He let out a dry chuckle at that. 

Right, it was like learning math—knowing the concept wasn’t enough. To really get it, you had to tackle the problems head-on, no matter how frustrating or tedious they were.

He sighed, leaning back slightly. “So you’re saying I just need to deal with it, huh?” he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation. 

Shizuka smiled, "Not just deal with it. Learn from it. You might find something you didn’t expect along the way.” 

The only child stared at the letter on the table, the U.A. emblem practically mocking him. “Yeah, or maybe I’ll just confirm everything I already hate,” he said under his breath. Deep down, he knew he didn’t have much of a choice.

It wasn’t that Wakasugi didn’t defend his son. On the contrary, he understood Shisui’s complexities better than anyone. He knew that his son had always been someone who questioned everything, someone who never followed the simple path. 

Even so, Wakasugi had tried to steer the media away from linking Shisui to the world of heroes. The athlete had made it clear, through his statements, that he didn’t want to be tied to that world, consequences of those words were inevitable. Media had a way of twisting things, and now, there was no escaping it.

Wakasugi had gone as far as telling the public that anything related to heroes wasn’t his son’s territory, the damage had already been done. Shisui’s words were out there, and the world wasn’t going to just forget them.

He took the letter carefully, unfolding it with practiced calm. His eyes scanned the words as he asked, “Are you okay, Shisui?”

There was a moment of silence. Shisui hesitated, his fingers twitching slightly against his thigh. Finally, he replied, his voice steady but quiet, “I’m trying.”

The father looked up from the letter, his sharp gaze meeting his son’s.

“Because if I avoid it,” Shisui continued, his tone growing firmer as he straightened his posture, “The situation will get worse.”

Love; Shisui cherished his family deeply in this life—a better, kinder family than the one he had before. He vowed to love and protect them with all his might.

His first life had been a far cry from this warmth. Back then, he was the pillar holding everything together. His father, slowly losing himself to illness, had forgotten him entirely, and his mother, though brave, had to feign strength just to keep their lives from falling apart.

Now, in this second chance, things were different. His father was attentive, his mother genuine in her care, and their home wasn’t weighed down by despair. Yet, even in this brighter existence, Shisui carried the echoes of his past life. It was what drove him to work harder, to ensure he never let them down, even when the world outside demanded more than it gave in return.

This time, he promised himself, he would be the son who could bring peace, not pain. 

The person who could finally let go of the burden of being everything for everyone, because, for once, his family was there for him too.

.

After much deliberation, they finally agreed to the offer. The letter outlined a trial period—six months at U.A. High as a student. If Shisui performed well, he could transition into a full year as a transfer student. It was an opportunity laced with both promise and pressure.

Shisui sat quietly, mulling over the weight of this decision. He knew what it meant—walking into a world filled with watchful eyes and whispered judgments. The stares, the silent critiques, the unspoken comparisons—it all felt too familiar, eerily reminiscent of Konoha.

Back then, the gazes of his peers and elders had been just as piercing, just as relentless. In his first life, he'd carried the burden of their expectations, the weight of being a prodigy, a potential savior. And now, even in this new life, the cycle seemed to repeat.

"Alright," he thought to himself. "Let them stare. Let them judge." If he had learned anything from his past, it was how to endure the unrelenting gaze of a society that always demanded more.

.

.

.

On the other hand, Hitoshi couldn’t shake off an uneasy feeling. It was subtle at first, but it crept up on him, making his skin prickle and his thoughts restless. For some reason, he could almost hear Shisui’s voice in his head, that calm yet infuriatingly sarcastic tone that always managed to get under his skin. 

"Ugh," Hitoshi groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ridiculous." 

Was he actually missing Shisui? It was hard to admit, even to himself, but the silence felt strange without his best friend around to nag, argue, or just casually annoy him. It wasn’t just the banter he missed—it was the steady, grounding presence Shisui brought with him. 

"Yeah," Hitoshi muttered under his breath, sinking deeper into his thoughts. "I probably do miss nagging the guy." 

—...On Saturday Morning.

When the offer letter was handed to him, it clearly outlined several requirements that Shisui had to fulfill before being officially accepted. Among them was passing a test—one designed to determine whether he truly had what it took to be part of U.A.

No surprise that U.A. would include the typical form question: "What is your quirk?" 

For Shisui, however, answering this was a challenge. He admired quirks—they made people in this world appear so uniquely extraordinary. But as someone born quirkless, relying instead on chakra and techniques from a past life, it was hard to explain what he truly possessed.  

If he had to label it, he could say it was a quirk that could mimic certain abilities—though even that was a gross oversimplification of his skillset.  

It felt like the universe was against him. On top of everything else, he now had to go through an interview. Not only did he have to prove himself through the test, but now he had to sit through an interview where they would undoubtedly question him about his quirks, his intentions, and his future at U.A.

Long journeys were nothing new, but traveling by train was a different experience altogether.

A train departing from Hokkaido to Tokyo covered the distance in about seven hours—remarkably fast. Shisui had boarded at night, and thanks to the VIP accommodations, he slept soundly. By morning, he had enjoyed a full breakfast and even managed to shower. Modern trains were on another level of luxury.  

'...How much money did this trip cost...?' Shisui wondered, whether it was for the accommodations or the entire arrangement.  

He had been instructed to wear the Japanese national team uniform: a jacket and track pants in striking red, white, and black. Along with that came additional accessories, but Shisui found it all a bit too flashy. He opted to keep it simple with the uniform and a hat.  

That was for the official presentation. For now, he dressed down in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, paired with a baseball cap to avoid drawing attention. Blending into the crowd was his priority. He positioned himself discreetly in a corner, observing the flow of people around him. So far, no one seemed to notice him—a small victory.  

Now all that was left was to wait. Who would come to pick him up?  

A voice called out, breaking his thoughts. 

"Uchiyama!" 

Chapter Text

—If he had to label it, he could say it was a quirk that could mimic certain abilities—though even that was a gross oversimplification of his skillset.  

When he read the description, he was left momentarily speechless. A quirk like that? It was almost unbelievable. This kid truly had something special, something unique enough to make even the most seasoned pro heroes curious.

Really! Someone with Shisui’s level of power, especially considering his quirk, should have been under the watchful eye of the Hero Commission. Yet, the lack of attention from such a powerful organization was either a matter of power play or perhaps an indication that his family had successfully protected him from their scrutiny.

Hard to tell—was the Hero Commission uninterested, or were they simply unaware of the potential threat or value Shisui represented? The situation was undeniably questionable, and the mystery surrounding it only deepened with every passing moment.

"But maybe it's just pure luck that he's showing up now, and on top of that, he has such beautiful parents," Nezu mused.

He couldn't really complain about Nezu's way of doing things. Sure, gathering information about quirks was straightforward, but family details? That was another matter entirely. Or maybe, just maybe, Shisui’s parents had chosen to show their love for him in their own way, keeping things private but meaningful.

In many ways, seeing Shisui was like seeing someone who, despite all the complexities, had an undeniable warmth. Perhaps behind those calm nature, he was loud, perhaps a bit of a dork, but that was part of what made him so easy to be around.

A cheerful voice greeted him, filled with energy.

“Mr. Mic,” Shisui replied politely, bowing slightly. “Good morning, and sorry for the trouble.”  

Yamada Hizashi, known as Present Mic, had been assigned as his personal guide at U.A Student exchange Interview. Of all people, Yamada seemed like the perfect choice. Especially in terms of attitude.

While Shisui had primarily communicated with Nezu during the arrangements, it was understandable that Nezu wouldn’t pick him up in person. After all, the principal had his own responsibilities, and besides, it wasn’t Nezu’s style to arrive without a twist.  

“No trouble at all, no trouble at all! You’re looking sharp today. How was the trip? Everything go smoothly?” Yamada asked as they walked toward the parking lot.  

The crowds around them began to notice, some sneaking glances while others whispered quietly. Shisui adjusted the brim of his hat, keeping his head low. “It went fine. The night views were decent, though light pollution took away some of the charm. Still, the open fields on the outskirts were nice.”  

“Ah, I’ll have to try that trip during the day sometime,” Yamada said with a laugh, his usual enthusiasm brightening the moment. Together, they reached the parking lot, weaving past the murmurs and curious stares, as if none of it could touch them.

Thankfully, they reached the car just in time, avoiding drawing even more attention. Shisui slid into the passenger seat next to Yamada and quickly fastened his seat belt. Yamada settled into the driver’s seat, ready to go, but Shisui couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling creeping up on him.  

It wasn’t the car or the journey ahead—it was the fact that a pro hero, a busy staff member of U.A., had cleared his schedule just to escort him.  

Once they were both settled in the sedan, Yamada turned to him with a bright smile. “Today’s going to go great. I’m sure you’ll do well on the test.”

There's not much hope though, this scholarship is an offer there will definitely be a test if he worth or not. U.A. Few of them definitely qualify without exception. Well, it's a hero school, what do you expect? Being accepted is not easy no matter what the history are.

"I'll try," he wasn't the type to do things half-heartedly, but— "Hopefully."

.

The trip went smoothly, and it felt like a quiet day—though whether that was intentional or not, no one could say. Even if it were, Shisui wouldn’t have been surprised. He was used to unexpected things by now.

On the way, the rules for the "test" were explained to him. Some of the key points were:

• He had to follow the protocol, wear the prescribed attire, and take the test properly.
• All personal belongings, including his bag, watch, and phone, would be temporarily taken by the UA staff during the test. He would also undergo a body check.
• There were parts where he would be allowed to use his quirk.

The rules weren’t too strict. The confiscation of personal items made sense—it wasn’t like they’d be kept forever, and they assured him that no private information, like phone data, would be leaked. This test wasn’t cheap, and the preparations had been thorough. Shisui just needed to follow the process, and the results would depend on his performance.

When they reached the parking lot, Shisui handed over his digital watch—a cheap one he had bought online on a whim—and his phone, an older model he hadn’t upgraded in four years. Both were turned off, and Yamada double-checked his clothes.

From Yamada’s perspective, he couldn’t help but feel a little envious—today’s kids were growing up fast. Starting with his shoulders, Yamada also checked his earlobes to ensure there were no hidden communication devices, then moved to his pockets.

“Oh, candy?” Yamada found a packet of ginger candy in Shisui’s pocket. It seemed Shisui had forgotten about it.

Shisui laughed shyly. “Err, should I throw it away, sir? I’m sorry for being careless.”

“It’s fine!” Yamada smiled. “Just a snack. Go ahead and eat it—you’ll need the energy, right?” He helped Shisui open the wrapper. “Here you go.”

Shisui didn’t refuse. Though a bit embarrassed, he ate the candy. The sweet and spicy flavor felt fitting for the journey ahead, making the test feel a little more manageable.

.

.

.

U.A. is truly massive and impressive, no doubt about it!

As Shisui made his way to the teacher's room, he couldn’t help but be in awe of the grandeur of U.A. The school was several times larger than his own, and he could almost smell the money that went into building it.

He knew it was all about technology and development, but luxury was something else entirely. It wasn’t surprising that U.A. had become the best hero school in Japan, with facilities that matched the high tuition fees. Shisui often heard Hitoshi complain about the fees being so high, to the point where he had to chase after a scholarship.

Upon arriving at the test room, Shisui was greeted by a plain classroom—nothing special—just a student chair and table in the center, with a teacher's chair facing the board. He was asked to sit down, and he did so, trying to appear neat and composed. On the table were stacks of test papers he had to answer.

The first test was an academic assessment, and the passing score was set at 70. Over the years, the grade requirements in Japan had risen, with the standard now around 60—used to be 45 or 50. But U.A. had boldly set it at 70, meaning everyone had to show their intellectual strength.

Shisui winced. He wasn’t particularly brilliant—just average, really. Back at his old school, his teachers often urged him to improve his grades. He’d study, but the results were always the same, barely meeting the minimum criteria. It made him feel guilty, but at least he passed, right?

He glanced at the teacher and immediately shuddered. 

The man stood tall, dressed in a black bodysuit and trench coat, with a creepy smile—or was it just the shape of his mouth? His eyes held a cynical gaze, and Shisui, feeling nervous, bowed in greeting. The teacher sat across from him and continued staring, saying nothing.

"Scary," Shisui thought to himself, clearing his throat. "Good morning, sir."

"When the bell rings, you can begin the test," the teacher replied coldly, without any small talk. "Are you familiar with the rules?"

"Yes, sir," Shisui responded. The rules were clear: The test would consist of three parts—literature, social studies, and mathematics. Literature would take 45 minutes, social studies 45 minutes, and math half an hour. "I understand the rules."

The teacher gave no response, and as the bell rang, Shisui opened the first page of the test.

.

.

"Thank you, Father, for teaching me this literature—praise be to him. But English literature... Oh no, I sound ridiculous reading this sentence with an accent."  

"Quirkless human law, mental quirk human law, elemental quirk human law... Human laws, elemental quirks, mutations—why is this so confusing!?"  

"...My brain is on fire. 2x... Yz... What is this? A code? Alright, Shisui, you can do this! Just answer it... If only the calculation papers didn’t need to be submitted..."  

Overall, Shisui doesn’t enjoy studying, but he has no choice but to do it.

Yamada glanced at Nezu and Shota, seated calmly in their chairs, with Cementoss and two other teachers nearby, their expressions unreadable.  

"He’s surprisingly composed," Yamada admitted after a pause. "Nothing like the rumors paint him—cold and arrogant."  

Acknowledgment of Shisui’s heroism, the prejudice against him lingered. Hate crimes targeting Shisui continued, fueled by the perception that his actions were driven by selfishness rather than genuine altruism. Many accused him of behaving arrogantly, as if he only acted to protect himself and no one else.

Sound that somehow conveyed just how pleased he was, Nezu chuckled softly, "I told you," he said with a knowing smile. "He’s just... Kind."

"I mean, can you believe how composed he is? It’s almost unsettling," Yamada said, his voice trailing off as he paused. "I don’t know... but I haven’t seen him do anything that contradicts." He stopped for a moment, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Somehow, he reminds me of someone who’s always keeping an eye on everything."

"...Natural observer?" Cementoss joked with a smile. "You know, you're saying that Uchiyama seemed familiar with us. It only makes sense, doesn't it? That he was familiar with everything—interviews, procedures, and all that," with a matter-of-fact.

In fact, the disagreement with the statement was undeniable. Yamada shook his head, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "No, it wasn’t that," he said quietly. "Maybe you’d understand if you looked closely at him."

Silently, someone was watching the surveillance feed—Shota. His eyes flicked over Shisui’s movements, the camera zooming in on his face to detect any signs of cheating or quirk use.  

Oh, no wonder. That gaze—sharp and watchful—was unmistakable. It held a wary intensity, one that seemed oddly accustomed to danger.

Shisui’s results showed a score of 80 in literature, 75 in social studies, and 71 in mathematics. With an average score of 75—just 5 points above average—it wasn’t too bad, but still leaned towards the “average” side.  

For Ectoplasm, this score met expectations—barely. Shisui could have performed much better if he hadn’t approached it with the intention of just getting by. His attitude was frequently marked down, with Ectoplasm eventually settling on a B+ due to his restless behavior and occasional hissing during exams.  

Some teachers were content with these scores, while others felt that a 75 following UA standards was too low. Those aligned with national standards, however, considered it sufficient. As long as Shisui scored above 70, he passed the first test.

.

.

The second test involved an interview, and it had been a while since Shisui had gone through such formality. He couldn’t help but feel nervous.  

Shisui walked into a separate room near the teacher’s lounge, still accompanied by Yamada. They exchanged stories and, at times, shared a few light-hearted laughs—though it was more of a formal gesture. It was just storytelling and encouragement in the end.  

"I... I was quite nervous, sir," Shisui admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed by the experience. "I gained a lot of different perspectives, especially on how hero teachers operate."  

“Oh, that’s more than enough, we appreciate it,” Yamada continued walking. “Aren’t the exams at your school that strict?”  

“Athletic school… not really. We mostly focus on the basics and concentrate on our specific fields,” Shisui explained. “Many consider attending school just a formality. Personally, I’m self-taught, and my goal is to broaden my education beyond athletics. I can’t always rely on sports.”  

“Oh, sports seem like a good fit, though! You could become a gym teacher!” Yamada suggested. “You’d make a great mentor.”

"Ah, yes, that’s a bit of an exaggeration," Shisui said with a small smile. "I appreciate it."  

Finally, they reached the interview room. It seemed more like a counseling space adapted for interviews, though Shisui thought it was far too lavish for such a setting. It resembled a typical job interview room, with just one chair and two examiners.  

Before entering, Yamada offered a quick reminder of the rules. "Our interview process is different from what you might read in the regulations," Yamada said, glancing at Shisui. "Do you remember what it is?"  

Shisui was allowed to use his quirk in controlled amounts to impress the examiners.  

As a knowledge seeker, it made sense for them to inquire, especially given Shisui’s quirk had shown great potential. Named Kotoamatsukami—though he could’ve easily called it Sharingan—he chose something more unique. Not everything had to be similar; sometimes, going over the top was necessary.  

"Okay, I understand," Shisui nodded. "Thank you for the reminder."

.

.

.

The interview room was colder than expected. Was it intentional? The icy air conditioning wasn’t as refreshing as the cold breeze in Monbetsu. Within seconds, Shisui felt his skin start to dry, and he sat down on the icy chair.  

As expected, there were two supervisors. The first was a white-haired teacher with vampire-like fangs, and the second resembled an astronaut. One was a man, strict and composed, while the female astronaut appeared friendlier.  

After being invited to sit, Shisui adjusted himself, sitting upright in his chair with a composed expression. He gave his best career smile, aiming to present himself as professionally as possible. Focus ahead.

Anan Kurose is a passionate book lover, as always collecting numerous novels. One of the works she treasures is Wakasugi Uchiyama’s book.  

It feels strange to refer to it as "old literature" in such a modern era. Typically, "old literature" is defined by its timeless quality—whether it’s considered classic or not, rather than simply the era it comes from. The exception lies in the style of writing, which reflects a different approach.  

It all began with his first work: a poetic, deeply reflective piece filled with uncommon vocabulary. Many readers found it strange due to their limited grasp of the language. Thankfully, a well-known figure at the time gave a presentation on the book, deeming it eccentric.  

From that moment, Wakasugi Uchiyama’s name skyrocketed in popularity.  

Anan felt a mix of pride and surprise when she saw the son of her favorite author. His demeanor was strikingly different—peaceful and gentle. Meeting Shisui Uchiyama at a fan event, she immediately noticed his unexpected resilience. He wasn’t someone easily swayed or soft in judgment.  

Rumors floated around about Shisui. A small detail that hinted at his sense of duty toward heroes—though Anan was certain his interest wasn’t driven by curiosity. His respect for heroes seemed deeply ingrained, subtly influencing his approach during the interview, whether forced or hidden, or merely resigned.  

Shisui kept his gaze steady, avoiding eye contact with them entirely.  

"Good morning," Anan began, taking the lead. "How was your day, Mr. Uchiyama?"  

Automatically, his previously downcast eyes met theirs. "I’m fine, thank you for asking. How about you, Miss? Mr...?"  

"I’m good, thank you."  

Sekijiro shifted slightly, his brows furrowing deeper as he crossed his arms.  

‘He’s quite the talker,’ Anan thought as she picked up the question sheet. "Before we begin, let’s introduce ourselves first."  

Their introductions were brief, mentioning the heroes and their respective duties. Sekijiro would act as the second interviewer, while Anan took the lead. Shisui would only answer their short, targeted questions regarding his motivations and background.  

"Is there anything you’d like to ask?" Anan smiled warmly. "Before we begin."  

"I have no questions," Shisui replied. "Please go ahead."  

Satisfied, Anan cleared her throat, "Alright, let’s begin."

Chapter Text

Shisui was nervous during the interview, though he managed to cover it well. Some questions, like what the situation was or how it felt, didn’t need to be explained since they were the basics. Most candidates would simply blurt them out, but spontaneity and self-confidence were key here.  

Or rather, I kept everything brief to avoid dragging it out… That’s why I stayed spontaneous. Besides, he had been hungry all this time—dango sounded incredibly tempting right now.  

The conversation then shifted to something more personal—his personality, his capabilities. The question he had been anticipating finally arrived: his quirk. They mentioned having reviewed the "valid" data provided by their beloved government.  

Of course, their perspective on his quirk was different. No surprise there—they must have been shocked. Shisui was equally surprised, as this reincarnation had brought abilities he rarely utilized in his daily life in this world—whether or not he would use them often.  

Reading Anan’s expressions, she seemed more startled compared to Sekijiro, who appeared more relaxed. Her superhero name, Thirteen—was it meant to carry some philosophical meaning? Shisui admired her personality, finding her kind and calming. 

He only knew Sekijiro through Vlad King, after all. Sekijiro assessed that while Anan had a dangerous quirk, Shisui already understood his own—though he still recalled brief staff data from the UA official website. Unfortunately, his concentration wavered, and the moment passed before he could gather everything.

"...Kotoamatsukami," the vampire-themed teacher with fangs began. "Can you explain how your quirk works?"  

'Oh, is it time already?' Shisui show an enthusiastic demeanor. "About my quirk—."

.

.

.

Sekijiro was genuinely amazed that a child had been exposed to folklore and beliefs, especially something as specific as Kotoamatsukami, at such a young age when naming his quirk. That Kotoamatsukami—a name steeped in myth and reverence, drawing from the ancient Japanese folklore of divine governance and celestial order. 

The teenager’s candid confession about finding the name excessive now but thinking it was cool as a child added a touch of humility. He even admitted that he had once considered renaming it to "Sharingan."  

Sharingan? Copy Wheel Eye? Sekijiro mused. Was this teenager just being overly poetic?

Cementoss might have appreciated this even without meeting him, given his love for literature—especially older works. If the topic veered toward literature, Wakasugi Uchiyama himself might have been a better interviewee.  

"Kotoamatsukami has always resonated with me, though," Shisui admitted, repeating the sentiment with subtle shifts in meaning. "My father’s stories about it were a big influence on my choice."  

That explanation was just the preamble—now it was time to delve into the actual quirk.  

"Hm, this might be a bit complex since I’ll need to start with the basics first," he said, raising his right hand and extending his index finger from a loose fist. "My eyes have the ability to imitate quirks."

This was exactly the kind of information Sekijiro was looking for. "How far can you go when copying quirks?" he asked.  

"Not all quirks, based on my observations," Shisui clarified. "Only certain types, like teleportation, basic healing, and elemental quirks—though so far, it's limited to fire and wind."  

'Elemental quirks too?' the Pro Hero thought, intrigued. "So you're saying there are some you can't copy because you've already tested them?"  

"That's right," Shisui admitted with a sheepish laugh. "I tried with a friend's quirk—he had water and earth-based abilities—but it didn't work. I usually refer to it as duplication or maybe manipulation? It's a bit complicated, sorry about that."  

"Don't feel bad about it, really. We're glad to learn more," Anan said gently, steering the conversation to avoid any tension. "This is just one aspect of your quirk, right?"  

"Yes," Shisui nodded, raising another finger to indicate a second point. "The other ability feels... natural, almost like the quirk’s main function: hypnosis."  

The mention of hypnosis instantly brought to Sekijiro's mind one of Shota's favorite students. A striking similarity emerged—hypnosis and brainwashing, two distinct yet mentally driven abilities. In Sekijiro's mind, he considered the potential danger if Shisui ever teamed up with Shota's student. Together, they could form a trio of power.  

Hypnosis was noted in Shisui's quirk data as one of its stronger capabilities, though it came with significant drawbacks. It consumed much more stamina than his duplication ability.

Thankfully, as outlined in the civil code, stamina could be quickly replenished with sugary foods and proper rest.  

"Because the ability is tied to my eyes," Shisui explained, though there was no visible change in them. The two Pro Heroes squinted slightly, inspecting for any indication of activation. "With just a moment of eye contact, I can hypnotize multiple people," Shisui continued. "Or... Maybe deceive them? The effect varies depending on the situation."

Why even question it? The Pro Hero, sharp as ever, carefully observed the subtle changes in the teenager's eyes.

He wasn’t challenging him directly, but asking pointed "questions"—a method to gauge the boy’s understanding of his own abilities. However, if Shisui himself was unclear on his limits, it could lead to a lower assessment.  

"Deceiving in what sense?" Sekijiro, or rather Vlad King, asked more seriously now, his arms crossed and his demeanor sterner.  

( Shisui, however, didn’t flinch. He remained seated, his gaze steady and unwavering. He knew his actions might result in point deductions, but he reasoned that it was far better than risking the pro heroes by placing them in a dangerous genjutsu.  )

"Have you been speaking to me this whole time, or...?"  

Before Sekijiro could finish his thought, a sharp snap of fingers echoed in the room. The sound snapped the two Pro Heroes back to reality, their breaths hitching in surprise.  

Shisui was no longer sitting in front of them. The chair across from them was completely empty.  

Instead, he was behind them.  

Sekijiro turned sharply, his expression one of disbelief. How...? His thoughts raced, struggling to piece together what had just happened. When...?

"I've been behind you both for the past 30 minutes," Shisui said with a calm smile, stepping to the side. "The CCTV footage can confirm it if you don’t believe me."

Sekijiro remained silent, his mind racing to comprehend what had just happened. He wanted to respond, to assert control over the situation, but no words came. He needed to say something—anything— to reestablish his footing. Yet, the sheer weight of what he’d just experienced held him back.

Those blood-red eyes... They demanded attention, silencing questions before they could even be voiced. There was something almost hypnotic about them—unrelenting, all-consuming.

It was unnerving. Those eyes, so calm and composed now, seemed to carry an undercurrent of untold stories. Stories of violence, perhaps even death. The kind of eyes that had, in some past or distant life, like.

'What kind of power is this?' Sekijiro wondered, his unease growing.

'...God, I'm starving,' Shisui thought as he adjusted himself in the chair, once again facing the two pro heroes. His expression remained neutral, but his mind had already drifted. 'Dango or parfait... hmm, tough choice. Maybe dango first, then parfait later?'

Ah, maybe a matcha parfait with extra whipped cream. Yeah, that sounds perfect!

"...Unbelievable," someone muttered, breaking the heavy silence in the teacher's lounge. 

The live feed from the CCTV showed what they couldn't deny—a performance both awe-inspiring and unnerving. So this was the extent of Shisui's abilities?

No wonder Principal Nezu had cautioned them against intervening or reprimanding the two hypnotized pro heroes. 

All eyes were drawn to the screen, captivated by the teenager's blood-red eyes, especially the peculiar three-comma pattern spinning within them. It was haunting yet mesmerizing, as though those eyes alone carried a legacy of power and danger.

The once Number One Hero, Toshinori Yagi, had been impressed by Shisui's abilities during their interview. He had encountered countless quirks in his time, but he had never come across anything quite like Shisui’s.

He knew there were those capable of handling their quirks even at a young age. However, controlling emotions alongside such a powerful ability was downright insane. Balancing immense influence with calmness and restraint was a feat few could achieve.

Description of Shisui's quirk seemed simple—an ability tied to his eyes and the power to copy. Yet, it held complexity. The person who held the quirk was already complicated enough to understand, so it only made sense that the quirk itself would be equally intricate. 

'Kotoamatsukami... An ancient concept from lld Japanese mythology. Refers to the "Heavenly Gods from Ancient Times," representing a higher, divine power that transcends human understanding...'

"Reminds me of you, Aizawa," Toshinori mused, resting his chin on his hand. "The way his quirk works... there are similarities."

Shota leaning against the wall, narrowed his eyes but remained silent. His thoughts were hard to read, though his posture betrayed a tinge of unease.

"One of our students has a hypnosis quirk too," Cementoss added, glancing at the timer in his hand. "But not with this level of control or the ability to sustain it for nearly half an hour. That’s... Remarkable."

There was a pause as everyone absorbed this information, the weight of it settling over the room.

"We'll need to test the other quirk next, won't we?" Cementoss continued, looking toward the screen as if trying to predict what else Shisui had up his sleeve. 

Nezu, perched nearby, smiled faintly. "Indeed. Let’s see what else he’s capable of."

"Already?" Shota clearly exhausted but masking it with his usual nonchalance.

.

.

Previously, a student from Class A had been quietly chosen for a task. 

Initially, the assumption leaned toward someone eccentric—someone with a unique or exceptionally strong quirk. However, that wasn’t the case here. While eccentric, the connotation didn’t refer to a physically distinct quirk or overwhelming abilities. Instead, the chosen individual could be described as "ordinary."

"Me? Seriously?"

That had been Hanta Sero’s question for the past three days. Hanta, with his quirk "tape," found it difficult to understand why he was chosen over classmates like Shoto and others with more prominent quirks. Until the day before the decision was finalized, his homeroom teacher explained the situation.

"The point is," the teacher had said, "U.A. is trying to recruit this person as part of… us. As a student. Strange? I don’t understand it either, but let Nezu take responsibility."

The person everyone has been talking about the most is Shisui Uchiyama—meaning that...

Heading toward Gym Gamma and wearing a sports uniform with his sleeves rolled up, his heart raced. He felt nervous, especially since Hanta was the opposing force in this situation. It was almost as if fate had conspired to bring them face-to-face.

Theory running through his mind was that "making Uchiyama a student" amidst the rumors was an attempt to set an example, to help those who struggle to understand heroes—those who view them differently.

World has a way of indoctrinating ideas, and this situation reflects the validation of heroes with non-traditional quirks, showing that even those considered "different" can hold the same importance as professional heroes.

Talking about heroism from Shisui— "What really defines a hero?" That was the question Shisui recently posed in the midst of his growing media attention. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but his approach to embracing this path of heroism seemed questionable.

Was it for fame? After all, wasn’t being an athlete enough?

Negatively, however, this could backfire on Uchiyama, casting him as someone without a firm stance or struggling to be "perfect." 

What Hanta often heard about Shisui Uchiyama was that he was incredibly friendly. He got along not just with a few, but with many athletes who spoke highly of his good nature. It could have been exaggerated stories, but meeting him firsthand was a bit surreal.

"Oh, you're Sero, right?"

Tall with black curly hair and obsidian-black eyes—his presence was striking. Shisui had a way of dramatizing certain aspects, but it was hard to deny his composed posture and the warm, friendly manner in which he spoke. His enthusiasm was contagious, making Hanta feel like he was experiencing the excitement of his first day of school all over again, surrounded by classmates full of energy.

"Um, my name is Hanta Sero. Shisui Uchiyama, huh?" The conversation began smoothly. "I didn’t expect to meet you."

"Me too. I thought I’d be tested by the staff, but oh well," Shisui said with a small smile, wearing his school gym clothes. "I’m grateful for that, thank you, Sero. Hopefully, we can work well together."

( So he found out from the staff? That feels a bit unfair. Hanta didn’t have much time to gather information about Shisui, yet the athlete already knew. Mentally fair, but in the grand scheme, athletes are nothing compared to pro Heroes. Hanta could easily match him—or more.

Of course, he knew about Shisui and his quirks. Several, in fact from the teacher. What the teacher had emphasized as they walked here was his "imitation" abilities—let's just hope he's not as unpredictable with his quirk as someone from Class B. )

‘Is this just my feeling, or should I be more cautious?’ Hanta returned the handshake. Should he bring this up as a hot topic for the class? "You too."

Shota cleared his throat once. Both parties immediately moved to their respective positions, standing 3 meters apart in the designated arena. The space was small compared to the sports festival, where students showcased their strength (not quite the same for Shisui; this wasn’t quite that level). Everyone’s attention was focused on Shota, who began reading the rules.

( Shisui had no idea what the rules were since he mentioned they would be explained on the spot. Hanta was in the same boat, thinking there might be special rules—something akin to the sports festival, perhaps.)

"The rule for this test is not to seriously injure each other with your quirks, and the match will last for 20 minutes," the pro Hero said, folding his arms across his chest. "Begin."

"Is that all, sir!?" Both teenager exclaimed at the same time, clearly surprised that there were only those rules. "W... Well..."

‘I don’t get it, are all U.A teachers this weird!?’ Shisui thought, settling into his stance. ‘Sero, I’m sorry!’

Responding almost telepathically, Hanta laughed softly while preparing, ‘It’s okay, I’m sorry too. Our start wasn’t exactly smooth, huh?’

.

"Do you train with your quirk in self-defense activities?"

The question appeared on the form as Shisui prepared to provide his response. Considering the answer, they would also consult relevant parties directly.

First, Shisui trains with his quirk in self-defense activities alongside his high school teacher. Not in the same way heroes do, but rather focusing on how quirks are used in practical, everyday situations, without relying entirely on their abilities.

The theory behind this approach is simple: mastering a quirk, no matter how complex, must come after mastering physical control. This ensures that users don’t lose control of their quirks during ‘quirkless’ matches—especially in cases where a quirk suppressor might fail. The goal is to maintain fairness and control at all times.

In his daily life, however, Shisui doesn’t see the need for even a small portion of chakra from Sharingan. Without a proper quirk license, what purpose would it serve? While the Sharingan is useful for minor insights, it doesn’t provide much beyond that.

The answer he submitted—"Professionally, Jonetsu High School training involves using quirks and martial arts together."

There are two reasons why Shisui avoids dealing with heroes.

First, because he desires a peaceful life. Second, because he understands the capabilities of those trained as "soldiers."

Or perhaps more accurately, child soldiers. The term "hero" serves as a subtle replacement for military training, a concept Shisui has become familiar with through his past life as a ninja. The harsh realities of that life have taught him the weight of ideals and the sacrifices they often demand.

Both roles shared a heavy burden—the risk of injury or even death while protecting civilians. However, the most painful fate was the same for both: being forgotten, overlooked, or shunned by society once their usefulness was gone.

( “You know how to fight with your quirk—do you have full control over your quirk?” That was one of the interview questions from Vlad King.

Answering honestly, Shisui knew he had full control over his chakra and Sharingan. However, in a world dominated by quirks, where risks can escalate, he thought it prudent to emphasize caution. "I'm sure I do. But we don’t know the risks, so I personally think it would be better to have a supervisor."

"So, you agreed to take part in the physical test, right?"  

'If I didn't, why would I be here?' Shisui responded with a forced smile. Honestly, he was getting hungrier by the minute .)

U.A. is beyond question in providing quality training for its students. Whether they become heroes or villains depends entirely on the path they choose. Those who strongly believe in "goodness" will naturally become heroes, while others may take a different route—or fall into villainy.

Blazing red eyes locked onto obsidian black ones.

'His quirk is in his eyes!?' Hanta couldn’t hide his surprise. His alert stance faltered for a brief moment.

Without warning, Shisui disappeared from sight. The sudden movement led the Class 2-A student to "teleport."

Hanta barely had time to react before he felt a burst of intense heat pass by him. Shisui reappeared moments later, releasing a fireball directly at Hanta. Just in time, Hanta dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the searing heat that blazed past him, nearly singeing his shoulder-length hair.

( Shisui used hand seals, but incredibly fast. Hitoshi’s comment afterward was that he sounded like a crazy ninja fan, despite his past as one. )

'Is this the power of U.A soldiers?' Shisui shuddered. Not out of fear, but awe. He was amazed and horrified at how disciplined and deadly they could be. 'God, they’re awfully scary... No wonder they fight villains.'

He grabbed Hanta’s shoulder to initiate some close combat, but Hanta quickly twisted his body, whipping his arm and flinging tape like a lasso.

It wrapped around Shisui’s arm, tightening with a sharp jerk that pulled him closer. Shisui gritted his teeth against the grip, his hands straining to break free. 'Gkh—His hands are strong...' He realized too late. 'I should have attacked the leg—.'

Shisui’s eyes flared red, his Sharingan shining as he disappeared once again. He pulled free of the tape, materializing mid-air.

Hanta launched a barrage of tape strips upward, one snagging Shisui’s ankle and pulling him off balance in mid-flight. Shisui twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the ground with another teleportation jump. He reappeared behind Hanta.

‘Same trick again—’

‘Fire Release—’

With a scowl, Hanta thrust his arm down hard, slamming his elbow into the ground while anchoring himself with his tape. His legs swung up in a swift kick, aiming for Shisui’s chest. Shisui stumbled back, barely managing to regain his footing, but swiftly retaliated by vanishing and reappearing to unleash another fireball—this time multiple fireballs converging into a spreading wave of flames.

‘Phoenix Sage Fire Technique!’

Hanta dodged, stretching tape strips from both elbows, retracting them rapidly to pull himself in a spiraling motion around Shisui. His aim was to entangle him, but Shisui’s speed was unmatched. He moved in short, rapid teleportation bursts, each strike and counter-strike filled with bursts of flame and the snapping sound of tape binding and releasing.

Fwooooossssh—!!!

Both paused, breathing heavily, their chests rising and falling with each shallow breath. The tension lingered as they locked eyes—  

'Holy shit—He's seriously just an athlete right?' Hanta asked in disbelief, disbelief evident in his voice. 'It’s been 10 minutes... Even more...'

Shisui, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, simply smiled faintly, 'I still have a lot of chakra, but my body is tired... That’s normal, this body isn’t trained for that anymore.'

Meanwhile, Shota's gaze remained serious as he intently watched the exchange between them.

Chapter Text

Shota's expression unreadable yet contemplative. He understood Hanta’s abilities well, but Shisui's abilities seemed to adjust with surprising ease. Despite his shortcomings, with training, Shisui had the potential to compete at a level comparable to a 1st grader.

However, Shisui's weakness lay in his reliance on rapid movements that drained his energy quickly. His unstable foundation occasionally led to moments where he nearly lost balance due to Hanta’s tape traps. Yet, his speed gave him an advantage, as few could keep up with his agility.

But Shota couldn’t help but be curious. Was Jonetsu secretly training them to be fighters capable of taking down someone like that? It didn’t make sense how Shisui was able to execute such techniques so effortlessly.

"You'll see for yourself."— It seemed Hizashi hadn't been lying about that. There was definitely something different about Shisui.

'What exactly are those red eyes? Kotoamatsu...'  Shota’s gaze shifted to Shisui, who returned his gaze with an unwavering intensity—red that erases meeting red that swallows.

Fwish.

"Wagh—" Shisui instinctively closed his eyes, his irises shifting back to their natural obsidian black. He winced as if in pain, rubbing his temples. "Ow, ow, it stings...".

( He could feel his chakra being suppressed, and the sensation wasn't pleasant at all. It felt like someone was stabbing his eyes.

Sure, it made sense that some quirks might not work on those with chakra, but there were others that had adapted to become deceptively powerful. But; While chakra might provide an advantage against certain physical quirks, it proves less effective against quirks that target the mind or manipulate things. There's no doubt that there could be a possibility. 

What's the point of being stronger than all quirks if it only brings discomfort? Just because it has the potential to do more doesn't make it easier to bear. Shisui continued rubbing his eyes, the lingering pain still sharp. Even though his chakra had been suppressed for a while, Shisui found an unexpected sense of comfort settling in. )

Apparently, the quirk could indeed be erased, making it safer—at least for now.

There was a quiet confession Shota kept to himself—it was harder to erase Shisui's quirk than he had anticipated. This phenomenon often occurred with individuals who had trained extensively with their quirks or mastered aspects of them, making their quirks more resilient to suppression.

After a moment's consideration, Shota spoke. "Done." He turned to Hanta with a neutral expression. "You did well."

Hanta straightened up and gave a polite nod. "Thank you, sir."

Then Shota shifted his focus to Shisui. His gaze was sharp but not unkind. "You’re proficient in martial arts, I’ll give you that. But your body... It’s clearly more accustomed to shorter duration fights."

The athlete blinked a few times, steadying himself and regaining his composure. "Yes, I do, sir," he replied, his voice steady but reflective.

That hit differently. Shota’s words rang true—his body wasn’t built for endurance-based combat. Unlike the heroes or those in military-like roles, Shisui is an athlete. His training revolved around precision, speed, and efficiency, not prolonged battles. And truth be told, he had no obligation to fight like a soldier. That wasn’t his purpose, nor his life’s path (in this life).

His thoughts lingered on the difference. I’m not here to prove I can be a hero. I’m here because... It is my duty to be responsible.

After a moment of silence, Shota's voice broke through. "Also, I can see you have potential," he said, his tone a mix of seriousness and faint amusement. A subtle grin tugged at his lips as he added, "Maybe you should push yourself one more time. Have fun going through this hell."

Behind those eyes; Shota could see it—those eyes were calm, almost unnervingly so. There was a certain stillness, as if Shisui had seen and understood more than anyone else. They exuded a quiet confidence, yet there was a deep awareness of the bitterness that came with the hero world.

It was darker, more twisted than what most imagined.

That teenager expression betrayed no fear, only a sense of understanding that others could only begin to grasp. 

Shisui stared at him, unsure whether to take it as encouragement or a warning. Hell, huh? He thought bitterly, his lips curving into a faint, resigned smile. 

"Thank you, sir," he replied evenly, though he couldn’t entirely hide the nervous undertone in his voice.

Shota turned away, signaling the end of the discussion, leaving Shisui and Hanta.

Hanta still couldn’t wrap his head around it. What potential does his own teacher see in him? Was it because of his quirk? His ability to adapt quickly? Or something else entirely?

Shisui had proven impressive during the sparring match. His skills were undeniable—fast, unpredictable, and sharp. He fit right in at U.A.

A promising student with a unique quirk and unwavering determination. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it, something deeper that Shota recognized beyond mere combat prowess.

Shisui’s abilities were extraordinary, sure. But Hanta wondered—did potential truly lie in strength alone, or was there something hidden beneath the surface?

As they stood in the locker room, Shisui offered a warm, genuine smile.

"Good work, Sero," he said, his tone light and friendly. "You did really great."

The hero student glanced at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though it felt a bit forced." You too," he replied, his voice steady but carrying a hint of uncertainty. "Still seem enthusiastic."

And the athlete gave a soft nod, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, it's been a while since I've felt like this," he said. "I guess it’s good to step out of my comfort zone every now and then."  

A chuckle left softly while he adjusting his uniform. "Exactly. We’re all learning something new every day." He paused briefly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Even about what it means to be a hero."

There was no need to voice his thoughts—his silence spoke volumes. Knew that speaking would only disrupt the quiet clarity he was searching for, so he chose to remain silent.

A sound of closed locker, Hanta tone calm yet firm. "You know, sometimes being too curious isn't always a good thing. I get it—Heroism can be questioned, but the more you seek answers, the harder it becomes to find a clear one."

The clear one; Shisui listened quietly, absorbing Hanta's words. Hanta made valid points about the complexities of heroism, pointing out the flaws and uncertainties that Shisui often overlooked. 

Of course, Shisui acknowledged there were times he took the wrong steps in this pursuit. There were moments when he wanted to step back, to save himself from the weight of it all. Despite the uncertainties, he kept pushing forward—because at least he was trying.

That was what mattered to him. The results? Those could wait.

"I’ll keep that in mind," Shisui said with a small, understanding smile. "It’s tiring to keep asking what it’s really like."

"Well, philosophical, Uchiyama," Hanta shrugged with a small laugh. "I can’t entirely blame you for winning. People just push you to be empathetic to us."

"I do empathize," Shisui smiled back, sighing softly. "It’s exhausting to imagine what’s happening to you all. I couldn’t help but think—has it become a norm for people so young to fight for justice?"

Hanta was speechless, taken aback by the depth of Shisui’s words.

After a moment, Hanta finally spoke, his voice quieter than before. "It feels like we’re expected to bear responsibilities that go beyond our years, doesn’t it?"

"Does an underage really decide what is right when it comes to fighting for justice?" A first question. "So why do people keep the system in place, only to make them believe it's worth sacrificing something?"

Heroes have done a service—there's no doubt about that. They’ve fought for the safety of others. Is the cost of that service—one's own identity, their sense of self. What is the price of being a hero, really?

That question lingered in Hanta's mind, making him reflect on his own actions and motives. The line between personal feelings and duty often blurred, but at the end of the day, they were still human—flawed, driven by emotions, and bound by expectations. His ego struggled against admitting that he was fully committed to this life, yet the weight of his responsibilities weighed heavily on him.

The cycle continued, relentless and unpredictable. Heroes were forged through hardship, molded into protectors of the weak, ensuring fairness when others could not.

Even with all their efforts, Hanta couldn't help but wonder if the price they paid was truly justified. Was it worth the sacrifices made for a world that could turn better or worse at the drop of a hat?

What does everyone fight for? For some, it's a sense of justice, for others, it's survival or the protection of loved ones. The reasons are varied, yet deeply personal. 

As for Shisui, his personal reasons aren’t entirely clear. Shisui Uchiyama is driven by athleticism—a pursuit for medals, recognition, and honor. It was a straightforward goal, one rooted in success and excellence.

—Hanta fights not just for duty or recognition, but because it’s the least he feels he can do to honor the strength he believes everyone has.

Maybe it’s out of compassion, or maybe it’s a desire to make a difference in a world where choices are difficult and outcomes are uncertain. Either way, his kindness and sense of responsibility weave into his every action, making it seem almost too selfless—too good to be true.

"...Do we have to answer true or false?" Hanta asked, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. 

If it's true, then they bear the burden of responsibility—an oath to protect, to become strong, no matter how hollow it may sound. 

"I'm not saying there's a right or wrong," Shisui said thoughtfully, "but I hope you can show me what you mean in the future." He smiled softly, a gesture laced with understanding, before opening his locker door and stepping out. "Thank you for today, Sero. See ya!"

Perhaps Hanta could finally understand why Shota had said Shisui had potential. It wasn’t something easily grasped or answered. Some might be able to comprehend it, but for Hanta, it felt deeper—something in perspective.

As a hero student Hanta, if he could conveyed his thoughts in a way that carried the weight of his beliefs; I wish you could understand that the way we fight is to protect the minds and innocence of others, so they don't have to face the pain we've seen.

Ectoplasm mentioned that he expected Shisui to perform academically better than the average.  

Anan and Sekijiro expressed a desire for Shisui to shift his mindset, suggesting growth in that area.  Anan mentioned that it would be better for Shisui to understand heroism in clear terms, rather than getting lost in the gray areas. Meanwhile, Sekijiro simply stated that it was for his own good to survive in this world.

Shota hinted that with time, Shisui might improve for the better. Simple.

The others echoed the sentiment, with Yamada adding that Shisui’s well-behaved and polite demeanor would be a waste if he didn’t pass. While he may face difficulties due to what happened, he has the potential to be a good communicator.  

Officially, Shisui will transfer to U.A. in class 2-B.

.

The feeling of doubt is only natural, especially given that Sekijiro understands just how uniquely diverse the students in Class B are. While Class A focuses on action, Class B leans toward deep thinking.

Their critical approach can affect Shisui in two ways—helping him reflect deeply, but also making things more complicated when conflicts arise. So far, Sekijiro sees Shisui as a gentle yet resilient individual. 

At a nearby bar, surrounded by teachers unwinding with drinks, the atmosphere is lively but tired. The television plays exciting sports matches that barely hold their attention, overshadowed by the anticipation of new challenges in the coming days.

"...You'll be even grayer than this," Shota joked, drawing laughter from Yamada and Cementoss.

"Wow, thanks, like I didn't know," Sekijiro's eyes rolled lazily. "Lucky for you, Aizawa. I'm going crazy now."

"I've been suffering for a year, so let's take turns," the other pro Hero grinned faintly as he shrugged. "Congratulations on your new student who, it seems, you will be guiding quite a special person."

"21 students is not a problem," Sekijiro said sarcastically. "Just need to adjust."

Cementoss glanced at Yamada, "Good thing we're not homeroom teachers."

The English teacher agreed with half laughter and empathy, "That's absolutely right."

Since going to Monbetsu again would be time-consuming and expensive, his items were shipped. His parents also came here to talk for a while and went home the next day. With that, Shisui's dorm life began.

To be precise, for the first two months, he would be living in an apartment outside of UA—not far from the school. After two months of adaptation, he will move to the Class 2-B dormitory, likely after the school sports festival.

Shisui was used to living alone in the past; he had been independent for years, but now, he was just a teenager once again, living with a harmonious family. It felt different, no longer seeing the cold atmosphere of Monbetsu or the city, nor his family for the next year except for holidays.

How sentimental it was on the Sunday before his first day of school—he was sent a freshly pressed, fragrant U.A. uniform. Holding the blazer, he noticed some striking differences.

He was required to wear a red armband on his left arm as long as he was a transfer student. There were no buttons on the shoulders either, just plain. The rest of the uniform remained the same.

Okay, this is no problem. The difference signifies that he is a "transfer student" and is no exception. Shisui hung up his uniform—he would wear that for the next year, until then only.

Nervousness made him feel hungry. He went to the kitchen and cooked the instant noodles he had been craving during his athletic days but couldn't eat—a simple spicy ramen topped with two boiled eggs and ham...

Shisui devoured it without a second thought, 'Kinda want to call Hitoshi... He must be busy right? I mean... He must have known, the rest is just a surprise!'

The answer is, Hitoshi already knows that the transfer student is none other than Shisui.

'Wow, he did it on purpose... Just watch, Shisui, and I'll kick your ass,' Hitoshi put on an annoyed smile in front of his laptop, debating if he should put on a fake act too.

—It was a fun Sunday night to call his friends late at night; in the dormitory where he lived during school—some people would definitely overhear him calling Shisui. They already suspected it by hearing his voice burst out laughing because Shisui made a bad joke.

Regarding Class A itself, they already know but they prefer to keep it to themselves, so their curiosity is high. Most of his class are also fans of Shisui, whether in terms of physicality or skill—some even follow the things Shisui once taught to the media through video interviews.

Let's see how tomorrow goes. Hopefully, Hitoshi doesn't end up buying some petty prank to get back at Shisui. Should he give his sincere greetings and prayers? Let's do it.

Hitoshi Shinsou  

Always praying for your sanity —  

—Love, your best friend.

Shisui Uchiyama  

What

Shisui felt his head throb as he suddenly woke up to the harsh sound of the alarm clock, just ten minutes to six.  

'Habit! Shisui, don’t eat so much next time,' he muttered to himself as he sat up in bed, still half-drowsy.  

Thanks to Jonetsu’s teachings, waking up at six past had already become a bad habit. He quickly grabbed a towel and took a brisk shower—ensuring he smelled fresh with a light perfume and deodorant. The scent was subtle, not overwhelming, just enough to feel confident.  

Hair was always a hassle. His curls refused to cooperate, even with gel. After ten minutes of wrestling with his reflection, Shisui gave up and simply ran a comb through them, letting them fall naturally. At least his uniform was neatly pressed—first impressions mattered.  

For breakfast, he settled on rice he had cooked the night before, paired with eggs and ham. No vegetables yet, as he hadn’t had the time to prepare them. After quickly washing the dishes, he slipped on his socks and shoes. The apartment was a bit messy, but no one was going to scold him for it.  

"Shisui, don’t be afraid of the first day, okay?" His mother’s voice echoed in his mind, gentle and reassuring as she embraced him in a warm hug. "You can get through this."  

"You are our son, we know you can do this. But if anything happens, talk to us. We are waiting for your call in the afternoon," his father added softly, giving him a tender pat on the head before wrapping him in a hug as well. "Good luck."  

With those comforting thoughts, Shisui left the apartment, breaking into a light jog toward U.A.

‘Aagh! Can I just use Body Flicker? I’m tired of running like a normal person!’ he thought, half-joking, half-frustrated.  

Though sometimes the reincarnation doesn’t let him cheat efficiently—it’s sad.

Chapter Text

Shisui wasn’t sure how to feel about his first day at U.A. The building was immense, and the reality of his decision was starting to sink in. Students were beginning to notice him, whispering amongst themselves—"Isn't that The Uchiyama?"

It was to be expected how people talked about him—whether it was the rumor of him attending or the surprising fact that a well-known athlete with a big mouth chose to enroll in a hero school.

His famous statements regarding hero society and his eagerness to learn more had stirred curiosity and whispers among the students. Shisui had anticipated this. He was offered the chance and accepted it, seeing it as both a gesture of politeness and a way to demonstrate his willingness to learn.

As time went on, things around him gradually grew quieter, but there were still those who believed Shisui was full of pride. These individuals challenged him, pushing him to enroll, and now here he was.

Kindness often comes at a price. Shisui didn’t expect to be treated the same way as others. Some saw him as lucky, given his name and reputation. While others struggled to enter U.A. to become heroes, Shisui, as an outsider, managed to surpass them despite that.

He felt a bit anxious—perhaps more nervous than anything else. His stomach twisted with unease, making him consider just rushing inside, but he took a deep breath and decided to wait for his homeroom teacher.

Shortly after, Sekijiro arrived. "You're here, Uchiyama. Good morning." Sekijiro didn't seem to be in the best shape. There was a faint smell of alcohol and a noticeable weariness about him. Shisui felt a twinge of sympathy, surprised by the state his homeroom teacher was in.

In response, Shisui gave a small bow. "Good morning too, Mr. Vlad King." He decided to keep to himself and avoid causing any trouble, knowing it might help Sekijiro.

"How are you today, sir?"

"...Good," was the lie. "Let's go."

They moved through the hallways, up the stairs. Shisui's heart pounded with every step. He took a deep breath and... Exhaled.

Class B was no different—always filled with debates and strategic minds. They quickly understood that Shisui was here to learn, not to become a hero like them. For them, it was simply a matter of putting on the facade of what it meant to be a hero student.

Nirengeki, on the other hand, was excited. He was nervous too, but it didn’t overshadow his enthusiasm. He might not be the most outgoing character in class, but it’s clear that he sees Shisui as something of an idol. Perhaps, he even possesses a unique insight. He couldn’t help but wonder what impression this athlete would leave behind. Or, his new classmates.

One of his classmates, Hiryu, patted his shoulder. "Calm down," he said, noticing how visibly nervous the vice class head was.

"Y-Yeah! Sorry..." he responded nervously.

How cute. Juzo couldn’t help but suppress a smile as he watched how nervous Nirengeki was. Meanwhile, Manga already cracked a joke or two, adding some lightheartedness to the situation. Would be unfortunate if such a morning were ruined. The sun was shining, spring was still in the air, and the warmth felt just right.

It wasn’t as if Class B were entirely antagonistic for not showing friendliness right away. They just needed some time to adapt and truly understand who Shisui was. Was he genuinely kind, or was he simply naïve? In this class, at least, they didn’t need someone who outright believed everything needed questioning. Some were clear in their beliefs, while others saw things through different perspectives.

A few classmates watched quietly—Tetsutetsu, Yosetsu, and Togaru—and they were beginning to soften. Their perceptions of Shisui would change in time.

And a certain blond hair with a thin grin.

.

.

.

"Please don't forget about the rules."

A chill ran down Sekijiro’s spine as he spoke about rules to his new student. He couldn’t quite grasp how such a young man carried himself with such a poised understanding of rules, as if he was ready to follow every second of them.

The blank yet focused eyes, still holding a gentle light, stared directly at him. The straight posture and understanding smile made it clear—this wasn’t going to be a difficult student to manage.

For now, Shisui didn’t seem like the kind to cause trouble. Several teachers from Jonetsu who had contacted U.A. for information described him as cheerful but never disruptive. In fact, he was a diligent student with an open heart for learning and understanding.

Whether it was maturity or something else entirely, Shisui exuded a calm, composed presence.

Second life knack. Shisui truly appreciated how caring his new teacher was in such a genuine way. Sometimes, he wished he could say he was reincarnated, only to surprise everyone by being a teenager without the weight of responsibility or causing chaos. It was better this way—less stress, more room to enjoy the simpler moments.

He couldn’t help but imagine teasing some of his friends, especially that one from Class A. Let’s see what Hitoshi has up his sleeve.

They arrived at the door to Class 2-B. What a massive door it was. Shisui looked up and down, inspecting its height and intricate design. People from Konoha would surely be flabbergasted by such grandeur.

As they stepped through the grand door, Shisui’s eyes wandered around the classroom. The spacious layout, with its sleek desks and modern decor, was unlike anything he had experienced before. It was organized. The inside of the room felt like a typical modern school, but more spacious. With 21 students, Shisui had anticipated 3 rows with 7 chairs each, but it wasn’t quite that simple—there were 5 rows, and the last row held about six chairs.

Well, he settled into the back seat. There was an empty space between a blonde with a mysterious expression and a bell-looking boy. The quirks were truly something else. 

Students were already seated, some chatting quietly while others prepared for the start of the day. A few glanced in his direction, curious about the new face entering their space. But some faces looked distinctly unpleasant. Ah, right, he understood that expression well enough.

"Good morning everyone." The way Sekijiro spoke almost caught Shisui off guard. The change in tone was unexpected, yet he managed to stay composed. "As I mentioned earlier, we have a new student joining our class. An exchange student through the program for better understanding and perspective of the hero course."

All eyes were on him. Shisui offered a warm smile, meeting the gaze of his classmates. He glanced back at Sekijiro as the teacher gestured for him to introduce himself.

"My name is Uchiyama Shisui. Please call me Shisui or Uchiyama, or whatever you feel comfortable with," he continued with a friendly demeanor. "It's nice to meet you all. I hope we can work well together."

.

.

.

The program was straightforward. Hero knowledge and rules had their own dedicated courses for Shisui in the meantime. In the mornings until break, he would be in class, but the rest of the day, he’d join a separate private class with another teacher to cover the basics.

Yesterday, he had already made use of his Sharingan to quickly scan through the textbooks.

A subtle abuse of quirk (power). 

He listened closely to the teacher’s explanation—English. Lovely. He understood some parts of the words and even repeated them with a classmate, maintaining a low voice. They told him to take it easy since he was new, but that didn’t mean it was an excuse for slacking off. That didn’t serve as an excuse for falling behind.

Honestly, what was the difference between learning about heroes and being a Shinobi?

Both required mastering even the smallest details, understanding conversations like heroes, and acting with the same level of composure and responsibility. It wasn’t an easy path to navigate, especially even when they were educated from such a young age.

As Shisui listened closely, he caught the blonde-haired guy glancing his way. He didn’t react immediately, maintaining his calm demeanor. There was a sense of composure in the man’s gaze, as if he had something to say. Shisui remained quiet, waiting to see if the moment would present itself.

.

.

Yosetsu was genuinely shocked by Shisui. The new guy is surprisingly calm and collected, nothing like he had imagined. Most people in his position would seek the center of attention, acting the fool or flaunting their presence.  

But not Shisui. Or maybe it was just an act—yet he managed to avoid the spotlight. He simply responded with brief, straightforward answers like "yes, I’m the new student" or "hello." That was all he said. He didn’t bother showing off, instead sitting calmly at his desk, composed and unbothered by the attention around him.

'What the hell was that?' Yosetsu couldn’t help but glance again, his eyes widening slightly as he watched Shisui simply smile at others. 

Something unsettling about how effortlessly composed he appeared. Yosetsu shuddered, unable to shake off the feeling that there was more beneath that serene smile.

"How was he?" Shota asked Yamada, who seemed lost in thought. "Anything new?"

"Nah, I didn’t even know how to say it; Uchiyama is awfully calm," Present Mic shuddered, shaking his head. "He even manages to blend in like he’s been here before."

"Hm, lucky. Kan really has a sane student," then the other teacher added with a hint of sarcasm.

The teacher in question didn’t say much. He maintained a straight face, offering a simple, yet firm, "Oh, I hope today passes smoothly."

.

.

.

The lesson ended comfortably as the break arrived. Shisui had grown accustomed to a different schedule—two breaks from 10 until half past ten, with no break until 12 o’clock. It was surprising, to say the least.

Slowly, his body began to adapt to the new routine. However, holding back hunger was proving to be the hardest challenge in this second life. Shisui had to remind himself that he could at least eat after class was over.

No one approached him directly. Small engagements here and there were enough for now. He didn’t expect much, yet something broke that expectation once again.

It was normal for them to point fingers at who made the first move, for the overwhelming feelings to rise. Everything simply needed time to be navigated and passed through.

A timid boy, a bit shorter with bright blue hair, looked nervous as he hesitantly tried to speak. Shisui simply smiled—he remembered that face, the boy is the first to look at him with genuine interest, something deeper than the casual glances Shisui had been receiving. It is clear the boy was gathering the courage to speak.

"—Hello Uchiyama. Welcome to Class B," Nirengeki said, his voice a bit uncertain. "My name is Nirengeki Shoda, and I’m the vice class president of 2-B."

"Hello, Shoda? Or is there something else you’d prefer to be called?" Shisui replied. He, too, was making an effort to connect, offering. "Ah, by the way, there’s no need to be formal around me. But if you’re comfortable being formal, I don’t mind," 

"No—it’s fine, really, I’m just… A bit…" Nirengeki trailed off, struggling to find the right words. "I’m hoping we can work well together, and please feel free to ask if there’s anything you need."

"My, how kind. Of course I would," Shisui laughed softly.

"Yeah... Ehm..."

"Nervous?"

Shisui reached into his pocket and pulled out a ginger candy he had been keeping—one of his favorites. 

"Here, take one. I usually bite on these when I’m nervous before match," he said with a wink. "It’s more sweet than spicy, I assure."

( Felt a bit strange offering candy to a hero—almost like offering it to a child. Nirengeki hesitated for a moment before accepting the candy, but his doubts quickly melted away when he tasted it. It is indeed sweet.

At first, Nirengeki thought Shisui would be the kind to exaggerate things. In fact, he was calm and collected. He didn’t hesitate to engage, but it wasn’t because he was ignoring the class; he simply remained silent to ensure the class felt comfortable with him.

A thoughtful gesture that everyone appreciates.  )

"It's... Good," Nirengeki mumbled as he continued to munch. "I didn’t know you could get nervous. I mean— you could. But You seem… So composed during matches, especially when you’re still smiling one minute before and then serious the next… And even now, you're so composed...".

Shisui chuckled softly at the comment. Yep! And there’s definitely a gap to enter!

"Really?" His eyes widened slightly, surprised. "I didn’t know TV would show that much detail."

Slowly, Nirengeki continued, "Sometimes, people make comments about you being two-faced."

"Ain’t no way," the way he immediately shaking his head. "It's just a coping mechanism for me to smile when I'm nervous. I can't really show how worried I am, right?"

"Despite being nervous, you still..." Nirengeki had to hold back his fan-like excitement. "Well, you’re doing great! Yeah."

( Crazy how he could finally talk to one of his favorites casually. Shisui even engaged in a way where no one seemed to focus on them. It felt as though he assured no one would care about their conversation, even if it involved praise and humility.

Nirengeki also realized that Shisui wasn’t just playing clueless or saying things carelessly. There was a thoughtful awareness in his approach. He understood the situation and chose his words with care, which made Nirengeki appreciate him even more. )

How sweet! "Haha~ I mean, I’m worried my opponent might break me like a twig—".

"—Really? Man, you’re the one who broke him,"

The way Manga chimed in, taking the empty seat in front of Shisui and joining the conversation with his usual energy. Togaru sat nearby, quietly listening, along with a few others.

"It is a good match, Uchiyama! By the way, I’m Manga Fukidashi, just call me Fukidashi," he said, shaking Shisui’s hand. "God, your hand is strong. A real man we’ve got here."

"Thank you, perks of being taught," Shisui laughed. "And you’re... interesting. I’m sorry if this sounds rude."

"Nah~ forgiven. You know, "forgiving is a way to lighten the heart or just not think too much about it"—right!" Manga laughed.

"And that reminds me of something... Isn’t that quote from 'We Love Life'?"

The classmate named Manga was laid back and dramatic, his personality shining through with each word and gesture. Shisui easily recognized the accent, familiar from the TV shows that had become popular. He enjoyed the program, finding it amusing how many teenagers could relate to the jokes, even himself.

Manga immediately gasped. "How do you know!? Do you watch that show too?!"

All thanks to a skill he honed in his first life—reading people and adapting to their mannerisms.

Reading people is something Shisui had developed as a habit—one he often wished he could shed. Why? Because honing this skill stemmed from his first-life era, where analyzing others was a tool used to outmaneuver and defeat enemies. Some habits don’t easily fade, and this was one of them.

It was difficult for him to be truly proud of the ability, as it often led to paranoia and second-guessing. However, it did work sometimes. Let’s just say he had his moments of confidence when using it effectively.

In moments like this, Shisui knew he needed to establish his presence—someone who actively built connections. These people weren’t the central figures of the class, but they were influential in their own ways. He could sense potential in each interaction, spotting subtle cues.

There was a boy with blond hair and piercing blue eyes, a smirk playing on his face.  

A girl with vibrant orange hair and a strong, determined expression.  

And many more, each with their own distinct presence.

"Details, details, I watched that movie almost 3 times," Shisui said with the usual smile. 

( What a taste— Manga agreeing with what Shisui said. So far, he wasn’t difficult to approach, except maybe during class time. Shisui had that serious demeanor when working but was surprisingly fun once the work was done. 

He understood that everyone needed to focus during work, especially someone like Shisui who seemed to carry a composed and serious attitude when it mattered most. Manga didn’t judge.  Sometimes, when things were too serious, Shisui didn’t let anyone in—he kept a barrier up, as if closing himself off from unnecessary distractions.

Still, when Shisui would let his guard down, sharing small glimpses of who he really was. Manga appreciated that, even if it wasn’t often for a short time they talk, and respected the balance Shisui maintained between work and fun. )

"Since you're a man of culture," Manga teased, a playful grin on his face. "Have you ever tried the new game?"

"Unfortunately, I don’t play games that much. Usually, I just watch some movies..." Shisui paused thoughtfully, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I do play some, though. An old one, though. You know, Pou?"

"You play Pou!?"

A girl with bangs, somehow reminding Shisui of a mushroom, approached him. She held up her phone, seemingly about to show him something. Shisui welcomed her, and they ended up discussing a simple, old game.

"I didn’t think anyone still played something like that," she said. "I’m Kinoko Komori."

"Shisui Uchiyama," he replied with a polite nod. "Sometimes, old and simple is just better. I prefer those kinds of games since I don’t enjoy ones that stress me out."

With dramatic gasp, Manga leaned in. "Wait, so no online games at all? Not even the classics? Dude, you're missing out on a whole world of fun!" 

Shisui grinned. "Fun isn’t exactly my thing, but I’ll admit, I’m curious now."

And now the comic looking boy clapped his hands together, "Shoda! We’ve got a mission!" He turning to Nirengeki with an enthusiastic expression. "Let’s teach this guy the ropes of online gaming!"

"W... Wait, me?" Nirengeki is unsure how to respond. "Uh... I mean, sure, I guess... But I’m not exactly an expert either." and now he looked flustered.

Shisui laughed, his composure softening further. "Alright, I’ll let you two introduce me to online game. Just don’t blame me if I end up being terrible at it." 

The mushroom girl giggled, watching the interaction unfold. "This should be interesting," and then she show her phones. "Your ID?"

"Right! My Pou's ID—"

"Something's quite different about Class B now."  

Class A could hear the sound of laughter and joy echoing from the neighboring classroom. It was unusual—Class B was typically a quite group, but the energy this time felt different. The usual bickering and debates from each class seemed to have subsided, replaced with a more focused atmosphere.

The reason? None other than Shisui Uchiyama.  

The Karate Prodigy. The Athlete with a sharp mind for society. The nicknames and the buzz surrounding him had already started to spread, even reaching Class A’s ears.  

Known for its history of strong heroism and legendary alumni, Class A couldn’t help but feel curious. While their class still brimmed with intense determination and competition, the subtle shift in Class B’s dynamic is new to them. 

"The presumption is in favor of rejection; the positive is in favor of acceptance."  

Hanta mulled over the thought, unsure how to describe Shisui Uchiyama. He wasn’t one to blindly take sides or sway toward one extreme. He was a thinker—a careful observer who weighed everything before acting.  

And he had fought Shisui before, and that brief encounter had left an impression. Shisui wasn’t just skilled; there was a depth to his character that wasn’t immediately obvious. He had a knack for making those around him focus, even in the situation. That kind of influence was rare, though Hanta doubted it would last forever. 

Still, Hanta couldn’t shake a feeling. Among all the noise, among all the faces, there was one person in Class A whose connection to Shisui ran deeper than what was visible.

Someone whose heart had already found a resonance with his presence.

Who? That was a mystery Hanta couldn’t yet solved. 

Meanwhile, Hitoshi had been plotting. A grin stretched across his face as he leaned back in his chair, already running through a thousand ways to properly welcome his so-called best friend.

The anticipation had been building since he'd learned about Shisui joining the program. Sure, Shisui was calm and collected—always carrying himself with that infuriatingly composed air. But Hitoshi knew better. Beneath all that calm lay someone who could be shaken, and he planned to be the one to do it.  

"Just watch, Shisui," Hitoshi muttered to himself, his grin turning downright devious. "Your ass is sooooooo dead by my hands."  

The mental image of Shisui's reaction—confusion, annoyance, and maybe even a hint of defeat—only fueled his excitement. Hitoshi was determined to remind Shisui that no amount of composure would save him from a well-executed prank.

.

.

.

A trace of Shisui lingered in Neito Monoma's mind. It wasn’t just the athlete's composure or the way he effortlessly connected with others—it was the abilities he wielded. What would they truly look like in action? What secrets lay behind that calm demeanor?  

Neito leaned against the window frame, his sharp blue eyes following Shisui as he left the classroom for his separate schedule. The wind played with his blonde hair as his thoughts churned.  

Someone who can hold their ground against Class A in battle... That means he’s no pushover. The idea both intrigued and irritated him. Neito couldn’t stand mysteries he couldn’t solve, and Uchiyama Shisui was shaping up to be one.  

His curiosity turned into determination. "I’ll find out the truth," Neito murmured to himself, his lips curling into a sly grin.

He didn’t just want to know what Shisui could do—he wanted to know how.

What made him tick?

What gave him his edge?  

One day, Neito Monoma would uncover the secrets of Shisui Uchiyama ( no matter what it took ).

Chapter Text

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—The fourth day.

Shisui tried to get through all the material he had to study. It wasn’t hard, but his brain had limits. If only he could use his Sharingan all the time, but his teacher was watching him closely, making sure he understood.

Maybe it was because his now and past life was more about physical training than academics; don’t blame him if he had to work on his focus sometimes. He was sure his past self would laugh at how his current self had forgotten the importance of studying.

What kind of ninja couldn’t focus for ten minutes? Blame reincarnation and technology.

Then there was Mr. Cementoss. Shisui liked him because he is kind, but had a lot of thoughts of his own. People called him serious and boring, but Shisui didn’t mind. He preferred a peaceful class to focus in, rather than a noisy one.

Especially since it was literature class!

However, Shisui didn’t dare mess around in literature class because he knew his father could kill him if he failed.

Right, it would shame the famous novelist Wakasugi Uchiyama if his son failed literature.

Then Shisui made a few notes. While studying language, they were also learning history. There were facts saying that language changes over time, especially when it came to descriptions.

"The description here is more about how people convey it," Cementoss smiled, pulling out a notebook for Shisui to read. They were alone in the counseling room, which was being used as a study room. "Before quirks developed, people had a limited vocabulary to describe a person’s appearance."

In this era, heroes had to be specific in their descriptions because that was part of their job.

Shisui understood that, as reports also required details to be as precise as possible. He had once written reports too, though most of his Shinobi life was spent using codes understood by only a few.

"And actually," Cementoss chuckled, "I’m more interested in the simple civilizations of the past. Because in language, we also learn something as time moves forward."

True.

Shisui had read his father’s works, some of which explained human life in the past. There were also ancient books that were simpler than today’s complex ones. The grammar was different, and the terms weren’t as specific as they are now.

Because things change in this world; humans, yet not quite the same.

.

.

.

After finishing their study session, Shisui packed up his things. He also helped Cementoss tidy up a bit—just out of responsibility. He’d feel bad if he didn’t help, even if it wasn’t necessary.

As he glanced at the sunset, Shisui sighed. The class had been exhausting, but being here alone with just his teacher… It didn’t feel all that different.

Trying to fit in with his classmates was still a challenge. Class B was different, and while he sometimes thought about visiting Class A, he held back out of respect. He knew he was overthinking things, but he didn’t want to stand out more than he already did.

"Uchiyama, are you alright?"

Shisui turned his head to see Cementoss watching him with concern.

"...Of course, I’m fine, sir," he said. Why wouldn’t I be?

"...It must be hard to adapt," Cementoss said, turning away and continuing his usual tasks. "If you're having any difficulties, you can always tell us."

It was a simple offer. The goal was just to learn in peace, to improve himself without drawing too much attention. But even after just a few days, he felt uncertain—whether Shisui could keep this up or not.

Still, this was the path he had chosen.

"I would."

As simple as that.

The memory of Shizuka scolding him felt oddly comforting as Shisui stared at the small package in his hands. It was filled with carefully prepared dry food—a gift from her. She had insisted he give it to Hitoshi after Shisui once casually mentioned his friend’s fondness for it.

"Don’t forget to hand this over. You’re not a child anymore, Shisui," she had said with her characteristic blend of warmth and sternness. "But you still act like one sometimes."

A small smile crept onto his face as he tucked the package into his bag.

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.

.

Today are Friday.

The long-awaited sports hour had finally arrived, and Shisui felt a sense of ease wash over him. For someone with a background steeped in athleticism, the physical activity was a welcome change from the mental grind of lessons. Adjusting his routine to match U.A.’s schedule had been challenging, but sports? Sports were his home turf.  

As he pulled on the U.A. gym uniform, Shisui couldn’t help but note how much he liked its material. It felt comfortable against his skin—light and cool, perfect for someone who preferred cooler fabrics. “This is just what I need,” he muttered to himself, stretching his arms.  

He completed his attire with his usual sneakers, ones that had accompanied him through countless training sessions in the past. Walking casually to the field with his classmates, Shisui took in the buzz of excitement. Today’s sports hour focused on quirk and physical test training.  

However, as a transfer student still finding his place, his role for the day was mostly observational. He didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to analyze his classmates’ strengths and quirks without the pressure of having to perform. Though he was merely supervising, he already felt the itch to join in, his muscles eager for action.

"Uchiyama, you can join them for stretching," Sekijiro called out, his voice steady but curious as he glanced at the transfer student.

The subtle itch Shisui had felt earlier to participate suddenly flared up. Permission granted, a glimmer of excitement danced in his eyes as he offered Sekijiro a polite yet enthusiastic smile.

"Thank you, Sir," he said, his tone calm yet eager as he moved to join the others.

Oh— Sekijiro found himself momentarily at a loss for words. That teenager… There was something about him that was hard to pin down. It wasn’t just his composed demeanor or his respectful attitude—it was the way he carried himself, a mix of quiet confidence and adaptability that stood out even among U.A.’s unique student body.

With a nod, Sekijiro gestured toward the group. Shisui walked over, effortlessly joining his classmates. As he began the stretching routine, his movements were fluid and precise, betraying the years of discipline and training ingrained in him.

Sekijiro watched from the sidelines, a thought crossing his mind. Well, he guessed, even athletes who were known to be fierce on the field weren’t always as tough as they seemed.

"Nirengeki! Want me to help you?"  

The offer sent a spark of excitement through Nirengeki. When else would he get help from someone he admired so much? His face lit up, and he nodded eagerly, his enthusiasm barely contained.  

Shisui crouched beside him with a calm smile, effortlessly exuding a sense of competence and reassurance. "Alright, let’s make this easy for you," Shisui said, positioning himself to assist.  

To Nirengeki’s amazement, Shisui’s guidance was not only effective but tailored to him. "Try to relax your shoulders here," Shisui advised, gently correcting Nirengeki's posture. "And don’t push too hard—let your muscles ease into it. No need to strain."  

It was clear that Shisui knew exactly what he was doing. He made even the more challenging stretches feel manageable, his steady presence boosting Nirengeki's confidence.  

"Wow, you're really good at this," Nirengeki commented, impressed.  

"Just experience," Shisui replied with a small laugh. "You learn a thing or two when you're an athlete. Gotta keep the body ready for anything, you know?"  

Nirengeki couldn’t help but feel a chuckle. It wasn’t just his skill that stood out—he feel a little self-conscious as Shisui helped him stretch. His body wasn't as toned or athletic as some of the other students in the class, but Shisui didn’t seem to care. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in his demeanor—only patience and a willingness to help.

"Hey! We have to jog! C'mon!" Shisui called out, reaching for Nirengeki's arm with a light tug.  

Jogging alongside him, Nirengeki noticed how Shisui kept an easy pace. It wasn’t that Shisui couldn’t go faster—he clearly could—but he chose to match Nirengeki's rhythm instead. There was something considerate about it, making the moment more comfortable.  

As they moved, Shisui began to talk about the season, his tone carrying a hint of nostalgia. "You know, back where I’m from in Monbetsu, spring doesn’t really feel like this," he said, glancing up at the gentle sunlight breaking through the area. "It’s snow, snow, and more snow. Gets boring after a while. The sun hardly shows itself, and when it does, it’s sooooo minimal!"

Nirengeki listened, finding it hard to imagine such a place. He glanced at Shisui, who was smiling softly. "But here, the sun’s different. Feels like a gift, you know? Warm, alive."  

"You don’t like the city, though, right?" Nirengeki asked curiously.  

Shisui chuckled. "Not really. Too loud, too much going on. But the sun... That’s something I can’t complain about."  

As they jogged on, Nirengeki couldn’t help but feel a deeper appreciation for the season and his new classmate. Shisui's words carried a quiet gratitude that made even something as simple as a jog feel a little more meaningful.

Shisui handed Nirengeki the bottle of water, watching him take a refreshing sip. The coolness of it seemed to calm Nirengeki’s breath, and the quiet moment between them was peaceful. They sat for a while, letting the intensity of the jog subside as the sun cast a warm glow over the field.

After a brief pause, Nirengeki glanced at Shisui and hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Right, Uchiyama... You haven’t talked to us about your quirk," he began carefully, but then quickly added, "I’m sorry, I mean—!"

"Nah, it’s fine," Shisui cut him off with a reassuring smile, shaking his head. "It’s just... policy, I guess."

Nirengeki furrowed his brows, intrigued by the nonchalant answer. "What do you mean, policy?" he asked softly, his voice inquisitive.

Shisui closed his eyes for a moment, memories flashing briefly. Sekijiro’s words echoed in his mind: Don’t say too much about your quirk. He understood why—his quirk was complicated, requiring explanations he wasn’t eager to give out to anyone who might misunderstand it.

Chakra—it wasn’t a quirk. Not in the way others understood it. Something deeper, more fundamental. For the past 16 years, living in this body, he had learned that discretion was key. Revealing the full extent of his abilities would only invite more questions, more complications. His past life in Konoha had taught him that.

Sixteen years in Konoha, honing his skills as a shinobi, surrounded by harsh realities, battles, and responsibilities. And then another sixteen years in Japan, where the world was different, but no less demanding. Each year had shaped him in ways that words couldn’t fully capture.

"It’s complicated," Shisui admitted with a sigh, opening his eyes again to meet Nirengeki’s gaze. "Explaining it to everyone would just be... Complicated."

The whistle echoed again, cutting through the air and signaling the start of the quirk training session. Students quickly fell into pairs, discussing strategies and preparing for the exercises.

Sekijiro looked out over the class, his gaze landing briefly on Shisui who stood apart from the others. "Alright, Class B! Today is quirk training. You will be in pairs," Sekijiro announced, his voice steady and commanding. "Except for Uchiyama."

Shisui gave a small nod, his expression calm as he moved to the sidelines. 

"But—" Sekijiro interrupted, his tone final." Monoma, come here."

Neito Monoma, with his blond hair and piercing blue eyes, stepped forward with a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, my. Isn't this a fortunate coincidence?" he said, his voice smooth and playful.

Shisui simply smiled in return, a calm and collected expression that left Neito unfazed. He took a calm step back, giving Neito the space he needed. However, the other man didn’t seem to mind, his smirk remaining as he ignored the curious stares from the class.

"Before we continue, this quirk practice is to understand each person's abilities, their advantages, and disadvantages," Sekijiro announced firmly, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "However, in one condition—our class has two people sharing almost the same quirk."

The revelation shocked many in the class. Shisui could feel Neito’s surprise through his expression, and the tension grew palpable as whispers spread.

"What—" Yosetsu suddenly pointed at Shisui, his voice trailing off in disbelief. "Doesn't that mean—".

"..." Tetsutetsu furrowed his brows, his expression growing more serious.  

Nirengeki and Manga blinked rapidly, exchanging surprised looks, unable to find the words.

And the others are still whispering.

Field fell into a heavy silence at Sekijiro's words.

"And Uchiyama has the quirk to copy other quirks, and modify them as his own," Sekijiro continued, his voice steady and clear. "He can only do it by looking. It's different from the one we have here."

For a moment, Shisui felt the weight of the class' attention on him. While Neito still stood quietly, a knowing smile lingering on his face as he turned toward Shisui at Sekijiro’s command with eyes only.

Without hesitation, Neito extended his hand for a handshake. 

Shisui observed carefully, his eyes focused, though his expression remained calm. From his observations; His own quirk wasn’t the type that required physical contact, unlike Neito’s copying ability. Instead, Shisui’s relied more on his visual perception and subtle manipulation of quirks (Which about quirks is a lie. They just believe in it).

As soon as Neito made contact, Shisui felt a strange flow pass through his hand—a faint, almost imperceptible shift—but it was enough to give him a glimpse of Neito’s quirk. He let Neito absorb whatever he could, allowing the process to run its course. 

However, Neito immediately winced, stepping back abruptly and pulling his hand away from Shisui.

Knew he was searching for something deeper about Shisui Uchiyama—the prodigy of Karate himself. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Shisui had a goal in mind, something he was working toward—something far more than just mastering about this hero society stuff.

Only one piece of the puzzle; the way he used it, how effortlessly he adapted to new situations, and his ability to stay composed in even the most chaotic moments—

Who's that man?

The way Neito’s breath hitched as he stared into Shisui’s eyes. Right side of his own vision began to blur, the sensation spreading rapidly like a burning sting. He tried to focus, but his gaze kept slipping past Shisui’s familiar face, distorted by an unfamiliar image—a figure so similar yet disturbingly different. 

Before him stood a Shisui that wasn’t just human.

This Shisui wore a headpiece adorned with a strange symbol. His clothing was intricately crafted, black and sleek—high-collared, with a chest guard and a blade resting at his side. His pants were dark, adorned with black deep, and his feet were clad in sandals.

The strange figure’s right eye was bleeding, oozing with a dark, ominous pattern that mirrored an unsettling energy. And everywhere there are crows. The sky is red with a white moon.

In a whisper-like command, the figure’s voice echoed in Neito’s mind. "Go."

The force behind those words gouged into Neito’s consciousness, the pain spreading rapidly through his skull, forcing him to instinctively pull back. His hand flew to his face, his right eye throbbing violently, tears streaming from the unbearable pressure as if his very vision was being stripped away. 

"Are you okay?"

Neito maintained his composure, forcing a smile despite the burning sensation in his right eye. "Well, I guess a copying quirk can't be copied," he said, trying to lighten the mood with a weak joke. 

"Their moves couldn’t stop mirroring each other!" Shisui chuckled softly, though the joke didn’t quite land. His smile remained calm. "By the way, let me help you."

Without hesitation, Shisui formed a peculiar hand sign. His hand began to glow softly with a faint green light. The glow drew a surprised gasp from Neito and others as Shisui gently moved closer to his right eye. Slowly, Neito felt the pressure ease, the burning sensation dulling with each passing moment.

Once the glow faded, Shisui stepped back, still wearing his gentle smile. "I hope it's better now."

Neito blinked, his expression still tense, but the burning pain in his right eye had dulled significantly. He rubbed his eye gently, feeling the residual sting fade away into a dull ache. 

"...It's great now," he said softly, still rubbed his eye gently, as if to reassure himself. "Nice quirk."

'It’s just chakra,' Shisui thought quietly, wishing he could say it aloud. "I just learned from medics in Monbetsu. They use the same method, but made it... Cooler."

A hum softly in response, his mind turning into calculation. "Perhaps you could try copying my quirk, making you able to do 'perfect' copying instead of manipulation, right?"

The words flow, and Shisui shrugged slightly, "Well, I don’t really know... Sensei probably had his reasons for pairing us," a pause. "Maybe by copying my quirk, you’d perfect manipulation. And for me, focused on refining the manipulation by perfecting the foundation of 'copying.' However, based on your reaction to my quirk, I don’t think it’s possible."

The logic was sound. If Shisui attempted to copy, there was a chance he’d receive the same reaction, or even worse, the full extent of Neito’s quirk. He was the type of person who avoided harm at all costs, ensuring he never pushed boundaries unless absolutely necessary.

.

.

.

Eye quirks were undeniably powerful.

Eye quirks are always considered strong because of their efficiency—direct eye contact allows for instant activation. Sometimes, it's even faster than a blink to channel or display a quirk.

—

It’s no wonder Uchiyama realized how dangerous his power was and chose not to become a hero. A hero’s idealism could waver if they didn’t have a strong foundation.

Meanwhile, for Neito, that talent—the ability to copy—could be the very thing that changed the identity of the person he touched.

But who? Who was the man he saw when he tried to copy Shisui’s quirk?

"Go."

The word still sent chills down his spine.

—In locker room...

Hitoshi tightened his shoelaces, rolling up the sleeves of his tracksuit. Hanta glanced at him nervously—something about Hitoshi seemed a little too excited today.

"You okay, buddy?"

"Yes." But his expression said he was ready to fight someone.

Maybe it was true. Hitoshi would gladly welcome it with love after this.

The way Hitoshi smiled said it all.

Next gym hour was going to be interesting.

Since that damn Shisui wasn’t getting off easy in his "warm welcome."

Chapter Text

Though he had been silent in the corner for half the lesson, cold sweat dripped from Shisui’s temples.

Why wouldn’t he? Watching what was in front of him filled him with nostalgia. Explosions, clashing powers, the sheer readiness to destroy—he had seen it all before. It reminded him of what hero students would eventually face: war.

Aren’t they too young for this?

Aren’t I too young for this?

Morally speaking, was it even right for people to have superpowers in the first place?

"Everything is done, sir," Shisui handing Sekijiro the pen and paper. His task was to help check off everyone who had completed their part in class. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Sekijiro's brows furrowed deeply as he processed the response. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again. Whatever was on his mind, it was clearly uncomfortable to bring up.

Shisui, ever patient, waited wisely. His eyes were innocent, quietly anticipating whatever reaction was coming his way.

"...Your handwriting..."

That was it. That was the moment the reincarnated shinobi choked on air.

The karate prodigy’s ultimate weakness—his handwriting.

It was obvious that Tetsutetsu wouldn't lie—he had been watching Neito's strange reaction the entire time.

Neito’s focus was locked onto Shisui, who was busy trying to translate his own messy handwriting for Sekijiro.

The new kid wasn’t acting suspicious. He followed instructions obediently, blending in without drawing attention. He even apologized and took responsibility in a way that felt excessive. He was so fair, so careful… It didn’t quite fit the hero world.

Suddenly— Neito's shoulders jerked slightly as he winced again, eyes squeezing shut.

( Why was it so hard to understand eye quirks? Neito could copy Eraserhead’s quirk, but Shisui’s? Not a chance. What made it so difficult? Was it something Shisui did, or was it the very structure of his quirk itself? )

"Monoma—?"

"...Ah, yes, his quirk gives the impression of pain that isn’t really there," Neito muttered, lowering the hand that had been rubbing his eye. "He is... Impressive, you know?"

"So you're saying he's dangerous, then?" Yosetsu’s straightforward question was enough to make sense of Neito’s reaction.

But Neito just shook his head and laughed. "No— not really. He’s not the type to call himself dangerous. Just… Make sure you don’t piss him off."

"That’s what anyone would do," Togaru sighed. "—Eye quirk."

Red. Bright, blazing— deep.

The kind of red that flared to life when Neito looked at Shisui—before he suddenly winced and stepped back in pain.

A red like a lunar eclipse.

A red that could consume you whole.

It all made sense why U.A. gave him a free seat in the hero course.

His quirk was suited for something beyond his own ideology—a power that could protect both what was right and what was wrong. If the foundation of the old heroes still stood, then it wasn’t surprising that he, too, would become a target.

A perfect cover for Shisui, hiding behind a career in national athletics rather than heroics.

As much as they disliked him, they wouldn’t act recklessly.

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.

.

"So that’s why Kendo is in a rush."

Shisui wondered about it and got his answer from Manga. From what he had learned from his classmates, Class A and Class B were eternal rivals. A match made in hell—whenever they met under normal circumstances, destruction was inevitable.

That meant the rumors Hitoshi had heard about the tension between the two classes were true. Unfortunately, his best friend was in Class A, which only made things more complicated.

What was supposed to be a healthy competition? Well, like anything involving teenagers, it could only lead to chaos.

And Shisui IS a teenager too!

"I mean, they must be interested in you!" Manga joked. "Karate prodigy enters U.A… U.A’s mystery… They’re always the first to dig into that."

"I feel sorry for Uchiyama, then," Kinoko said with a bittersweet smile. "But hey! Come on, chin up, you’ve made a really good impression."

"Not bad, exactly," Manga added.

Nirengeki panicked at that, while Manga just shrugged casually. Shisui only laughed.

They stepped out toward the gym doors, ready for the next lesson. Well, except for Shisui—he had extra private study time with the staff today.

As they headed for the exit, footsteps echoed from the other direction. Like hearing a boss battle theme play in real life—

Class A.

The class that stands on its glory, they say. Known for having many top-tier hero candidates, many of them coming from prestigious families. Shisui knew some of them, like the Todoroki family, the Yaoyorozu family, and even Tenya.

Among them, Shisui couldn’t help but draw a conclusion from his shinobi mindset: "Like a clan, each with its own glory."

Looking deeper, there were always demands tied to it.

It’s not that Shisui didn’t care about the "obligations"—he understood that side of things. With obligations, there are also desires tied to the rights they seek. Maybe one of those desires was becoming a Hero. If the situation were more black and white, Class A might stick to the noble ideals in their hearts.

They were nice kids.

Class B, on the other hand, was more logical and calculating. They likely understood that the reality around them had made them more passive. While there was a sense of pressure, Shisui didn’t see it as necessarily a bad thing. His class had to be doing their best, and he believed in that.

As it was said on social media, Shisui Uchiyama was someone who didn’t often show himself.

In other words, Hanta, who had chatted with Shisui before, noticed him talking with his classmates. When their gazes met, Shisui simply smiled and gave a polite gesture before returning to his conversation.

For Class A, this was definitely interesting.

"Heh...," Eijiro Kirishima, with his bright red hair, leaned forward, resting his chin on his lap. "Did you see that?"

"I did!" Denki Kaminari smiled. "He’s so cool—! You good, bro?"

A blond student named Mashirao Ojiro was wiping away tears. He looked so emotional, his shoulders shaking as if he could hardly contain himself. He gently tapped Denki’s shoulder, overwhelmed by his feelings.

His idol! Mashirao, a karate fan, was beyond thrilled that someone like Shisui had entered Class B. At first he had kept his composure, but now that he saw Shisui in person, it was a different story.

He felt the urge to ask for an autograph after this.

Denki just stared flatly, praying to himself, 'What's wrong with my friend?'

Izuku Midoriya watched Shisui from a distance, his gaze full of curiosity. There was something about him that Izuku couldn’t quite shake off.

After the quirk training, there had to be something Class B saw in this new kid—something more than just a scholarship student. His sensitivity picked up on Neito, who, despite being engaged in a conversation with someone else, still looking at Shisui.

Like staring at a crow—black hair, obsidian eyes, and sharp lines on his face.

"So the dumbass finally shows himself, huh."

There was no mistaking that voice—Hitoshi. His words caught Midoriya’s ear, and as he turned, he saw Hitoshi muttering toward Uchiyama. With each step, the tension grew heavier, thick in the air.

Maybe Hitoshi was talking about someone else. There was no way he meant Shisui. But if not, then who?

Midoriya considered stepping in to prevent any commotion, only to realize that all of Class A and B were now watching the scene unfold.

Hitoshi stood with his hands in his pockets, head held high, staring at Shisui. And Shisui? He simply smiled back.

Some of Class A looked panicked, while Class B just watched—except for Nirengeki, who was already trying to stop whatever was about to happen. But no one dared to interfere. Midoriya took a step forward—only for Hitoshi to raise a hand, silently stopping him.

The two stood in the center of the field, eyes locked.

"So this is the so-called prodigy, huh?"

"…I assume 'prodigy' is a bit overrated," Shisui replied, almost like a joke. He even raised a hand, as if holding back a laugh. "And I see—Shinsou Hitoshi… I’ve heard about you."

Hitoshi didn’t look pleased. In fact, he looked straight-up annoyed, "You heard about me?"

"Mm, yeah," Shisui nodded. "A hero from Class A—a guy who looks pretty grumpy right now. Maybe I could help you with something?"

Before the silence could stretch any further, Hitoshi raised his hand again—

This time, his arm wrapped around Shisui’s neck in a headlock, while his right hand delivered a rough punch to Shisui’s head, followed by a sharp pinch to his cheek.

"GAH— H… Hitoshi—!"

"You dumb shit. I swear I’m gonna murder you today!"

"H… Hey— we can talk about this—".

"Yeah, after I kick your damn ass."

"Aww, I love you too—GAHH—!" — "Stop it."

The whole ground fell silent as Hitoshi finally let go. Shisui just laughed, sticking his tongue out in mockery—only to get a swift kick to the back of his thigh in return. The athlete winced but still had the audacity to shoot another smug look at the Class A hero student.

"Tsk," Hitoshi sighed. "You’re really here."

"Did I even have a choice?" Shisui’s expression turned deadpan as he rubbed the sore spot on his leg. "I guess becoming an athlete was the wrong path."

"I told you to focus on education instead of getting mixed up in all this." Fact.

"…Are you my mom now? Because last time I checked, you were my husband, babe."

"…I swear to God, I’m gonna kick you so hard."

"Wait—!"

As vocal as ever, Mina Ashido stepped forward, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Her finger first pointed at Shisui—who immediately pointed at himself—then at Hitoshi, who just looked mildly annoyed but also vaguely pleased. Mina blinked several times before lowering her finger, trying to process what she was about to say.

Would it be rude to just let it go? Or should she ask?

"You two are—"

"Best friends," Hitoshi cut in before Shisui could say anything, a smirk appearing on his face. "What? Surprised?"

Once again, silence fell over the group. Shisui could practically feel the awkward tension in the air.

This is just... "You know, you could’ve said that with a little less confidence."

"Confidence is useful for addressing things," as the bell rang, Hitoshi giving Shisui a light push on the back. "Parfait strawberry?"

"—! And matcha extra!" Shisui winked. "See ya, buddy!"

For the love of god, that sweet tooth of his hadn’t changed at all. Hitoshi sighed. "Yes, and matcha extra."

Hanta blinked rapidly, trying to process everything.

First of all, Shisui Uchiyama was already controversial enough—his way of thinking made people either agree wholeheartedly or completely reject him. To call him controversial was… well, an understatement. But for someone like Hanta, who sometimes struggled to understand what Shisui meant in his words, the guy was a lot to take in.

He recalled something Shisui had said during their last meeting: "So why do people keep the system in place, only to make them believe it's worth sacrificing something?"

Deep. Too deep for casual conversation.

Stretching before gym class, Hanta walked up to Hitoshi. "It's kinda hard to believe you managed to befriend someone so extroverted," he said. "Why?"

Hitoshi’s expression was unimpressed, but his eyes told a different story.

The smile on his face wasn’t lazy, nor was it one of politeness. It was something else.

Why befriend someone as kind and naive as Shisui?

"It's simple," Hitoshi said. "And everyone knows why."

.

.

So that explained a bit about why Shisui didn’t seem all that uncomfortable. Because he knew—he had someone to rely on.

Neito couldn't help but recall the moment in the classroom, right before their next lesson.

Shisui had spoken so casually, like he was explaining the most basic thing in the world. "Well, Hitoshi—I mean, Shinsou and I. We met back then. It was a short meeting, but we got close through chats and calls. Honestly? It's fun to meet him again."

And just like that, the entire class turned to stare at him.

Like he had just said something impossible.

Hitoshi Shinsou.

Neito had always found him interesting, both for his personality and their shared perspective on things. But what deepened his curiosity was Hitoshi’s past—one of the graduates from Nabu Middle School, a place known for what had happened back in the day.

The bullying. The struggle to build confidence.

Hitoshi never spoke much about it, only that he had to keep living because everyone told him to. And then there was that phrase—

"Because someone told me that I belong here… And wished for me to become the best hero I could be."

At first, it must have been his parents.

But maybe… it was something more than that.

Maybe it was Shisui

What a mystery.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in warm hues as Shisui stepped out of UA’s entrance.

He had just finished explaining to Class B how his friendship with Hitoshi began—an accidental meeting years ago. They hadn’t met again in person for a long time after that, yet somehow, they had grown close through calls and messages.

He IS proud to call Hitoshi his best friend.

And he IS proud to see him smile.

But no matter how much he appreciated that expression, Shisui couldn’t ignore the weight behind Hitoshi’s eyes—the quiet remnants of war. Pretending not to notice, pretending to be just another normal student, was exhausting. He didn’t want to lie to himself about how much he looked up to Hitoshi. But it was too much.

And for that, Shisui started to hate himself.

Hate how empathetic he was.

Hate how his mind clung to memories that no longer existed—Shisui Uchiha, the shinobi.

Because they were different. Heroes had their way. Shinobi had theirs. He shouldn’t feel this kind of weight, shouldn’t let himself believe he was the mature one here, still holding onto the past.

So, with a sigh, he let it go.

Footsteps approached.

Hitoshi smiled at him—the same usual smile. The same usual way.

"Did you wait long?"

"...No," Shisui smiled back. Then, as if nothing was wrong, he casually threw out, "Hey, y’know, should we eat at my place? UA gave me the privilege of a whole damn apartment to myself."

"Say less," Hitoshi smirked. "I'll buy the food."

"Great! Now— let's gooooo!"