I limped through the front door of our apartment, my body screaming with every step. The fight with Bakugo had taken more out of me than I'd wanted to admit, and the new power I'd unlocked—that strange, reality-bending distortion—had left my head spinning like I'd been on a roller coaster for hours.
The apartment was quiet. Betta was at the kitchen table, a cup of tea cooling in her hands, a worried expression etched onto her face. She'd clearly been waiting for me.
"Suon!" She shot up, rushing over. "Your sister told me about the fight, she heard it from her friend. Are you okay? What happened to your uniform? Your face—"
"I'm fine, Mom," I said, forcing a smile in my tired state. "Really. Just a few bruises."
She cupped my face, her eyes scanning every inch of me like she could heal my wounds with her gaze alone. "You look exhausted. Sit down. I'll make you something to eat."
"Actually, Mom…" I hesitated, glancing toward the hallway where I could hear the low murmur of the TV. "Is Dad home?"
"He's in the living room. Why?"
I took a deep breath. "I need to show him something. Something important."
Betta's brow furrowed, but she nodded slowly. "Alright. But after that, you're eating and resting. Understood?"
"Yes, Mom."
I walked into the living room, my legs still shaky. Kenji was sprawled on the couch, watching some hero news channel. He looked up when I entered, his eyes sharpening immediately.
"You look like hell," he said bluntly. "But I heard you won."
"I did." I paused, my heart pounding. "But that's not what I need to tell you. Something happened during the fight. Something new."
Kenji sat up, his interest piqued. "New? Show me."
I hesitated, then reached for the drumbeat. It came easier now—almost like breathing. I focused, and the familiar warmth flooded my veins. My hair turned white, my eyes gleamed, and the cloud-like frills materialized around my neck.
Kenji nodded, unimpressed. "Yeah, I've seen this before. What's different?"
I closed my eyes and pushed deeper. The drumbeat surged, and I felt that strange distortion ripple through the air around me. The room seemed to bend, the edges of the furniture warping like a funhouse mirror. I raised my hand, and the coffee table in front of me lifted slightly, floating a few inches off the ground before settling back down.
Kenji's jaw dropped. "What the—"
"It's like… I can manipulate my surroundings," I said, my voice strained from the effort. "The ground, the air, even objects. It's like the world becomes play-dough in my hands, almost like my own reality."
I reached out, and the TV remote on the coffee table slid across the surface toward me, as if pulled by an invisible string. I picked it up, my breathing ragged.
"This is—this is incredible," Kenji breathed, his eyes wide with wonder and confusion. "This is beyond anything I've ever seen. How—how did you unlock this?"
I reverted to normal, collapsing onto the couch beside him. "I don't know. During the fight, when I was about to lose, something just… clicked. It felt like a door opening. Like I'd been looking at my quirk through a keyhole my whole life, and now I finally kicked the door down."
Kenji was silent for a long moment. Then he placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, his grip firm.
"Suon, I've trained you for years. I've watched you push yourself past limits I didn't think were possible. But this—" He shook his head, a rare smile crossing his weathered face. "You've barely scratched the surface. If this is what you can do now, imagine what you'll be capable of in five years. Ten years. Imagine what you'll be like when you're fully grown."
I looked at him, my heart swelling. "You really think so?"
"I know so." His smile faded, replaced by a look of fierce determination. "But this is just the beginning. You need to train harder than ever before. This new ability—it's going to change everything. But it's also going to demand more from you. More stamina. More control. More discipline."
I nodded, my resolve hardening as I looked at my father. "I'm ready."
"Good. We start tomorrow. Dawn. Don't be late."
---
The next few months were the most grueling of my life.
Kenji pushed me harder than ever before. We'd abandoned the park and moved to a private training facility he'd rented—a large, empty warehouse on the outskirts of Musutafu. It was bare, concrete walls and a dirt floor, but it gave us the space I needed to test my new abilities.
The reality-bending power was unpredictable at first. One day I could make the ground ripple like water; the next, I couldn't even lift a pebble. It responded to my emotions, my willpower, my state of mind. When I was angry, it surged. When I was calm, it was more precise. When I was tired, it barely manifested at all.
"You need to treat it like a muscle," Kenji said, watching me struggle to maintain a distortion field around my body. "It's not just about strength. It's about consistency. You need to be able to use it in any situation, at any time."
So I trained. Every morning, every evening, every spare moment. I practiced making small objects float, bending the dirt beneath my feet, even distorting the air to deflect incoming projectiles. I pushed myself to hold the Nika form for longer periods, to maintain the reality-bending field even when my body screamed for rest.
And slowly, painfully, I improved.
By the time I turned thirteen, I could maintain the distortion field for nearly thirty minutes. I could make objects up to the size of a car float, and I could bend the ground in a ten-foot radius around me. My punches, when enhanced by the field, hit with triple the force.
But I also discovered limitations. The field drained my stamina even faster than the Nika form alone. A few minutes of intense use, and I'd be gasping for air, my vision swimming. I couldn't fly—not yet—but I could soften falls by distorting the ground beneath me. I couldn't create matter, but I could manipulate what was already there.
"You're still barely tapping into it," Kenji said one evening, after I'd collapsed from exhaustion. "Imagine what you could do if you could control it perfectly. You could turn a battlefield into a maze. You could make a villain's own attack curve back at them. You could—"
"Dad," I interrupted, panting as my body ached in tiredness, sitting on the concrete floor. "I get it. I'm not there yet. But I'm trying."
He knelt beside me, his expression softening. "I know you are, son. And that's what makes you different. You've always been willing to try."
It was the closest he'd ever come to saying he was proud of me. I didn't need him to say the words—I could see it in his eyes.
---
The years blurred together. Training, school, training, sleep. Bakugo kept his distance after the fight, but I could feel his eyes on me sometimes—watching, assessing, waiting. Midoriya and I grew closer, my lunchtime conversations with him becoming a constant in my otherwise chaotic life.
And my family—my wonderful, chaotic family—kept me grounded.
Emi had become my biggest supporter. She'd come to watch my training sessions when she could, her hair cycling through excited colors as I practiced.
"You're like a superhero from a cartoon!" she'd shout, clapping her hands. "Do the thing where you make the ground all wavy again!"
Hana, still navigating her own struggles, would tease me but always with a hidden warmth. "Little bro's getting too strong. He's going to leave us all behind."
"Never," I'd say, hugging her. "You guys are the reason I fight."
Betta, as always, was the heart of our family. She'd pack extra portions for my training sessions, kiss my forehead before I left, and remind me to rest.
"You're growing so fast, Suon," she'd say, her eyes glistening. "I'm so proud of you."
And I'd hold her close, feeling the weight of her love like a shield.
I did miss Yuki but her overseas activities with work made her hardly avalaibke, but she did call me to say that she expected the most out of me and wanted to see me become the strongest.
"You better not disappoint me, you're the radiant hope of this family." I chuckled before agreeing and continuing my talk with her on the phone, making time seem endless.
---
By the time I turned fourteen, I'd reached a plateau. My strength was impressive, but I knew I wasn't anywhere near my full potential. The Nika form had more layers, more depths, more secrets waiting to be unlocked.
I started experimenting with the reality-bending ability in new ways. Instead of just manipulating my surroundings, I tried to affect my own body—compressing my form, elongating it, even trying to turn intangible. Most attempts failed, but the failures taught me more than the successes.
"One day," I told myself, "I'll be able to do things that don't even make sense. I'll bend the rules of reality like they're written in pencil."
It was a dream. A distant, impossible dream.
But I'd learned that impossible dreams were the only ones worth chasing.
---
The night before I turned fifteen, I sat alone on the rooftop of our apartment building, staring up at the stars. The drumbeat in my chest pulsed softly, a constant companion.
"You've come a long way, little ember," Nika's voice whispered in my mind. I hadn't heard him speak directly since my rebirth, but sometimes I felt him—his presence, his warmth, his laughter.
"Is this what freedom feels like?" I asked the night sky.
I felt his smile, warm and bright. "Freedom isn't a destination. It's a path. And you, Suon, are walking it beautifully. I am glad I chose you to represent me in this life, you've made me and more proud."
I smiled, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly at peace. My life looked to the up as I continued further.
---
The day of the UA entrance exam dawned bright and clear.
I stood in front of the massive gates of the most prestigious hero academy in Japan, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nerves. The building loomed above me—a testament to everything I'd worked for, everything I'd dreamed of.
"You ready for this?"
I turned to see Midoriya standing beside me, his face pale with anxiety. He'd grown too—taller, broader, but still carrying that same nervous energy.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I said. "What about you?"
He swallowed, clutching his notebook. "I don't know. I've been training, but I still don't have a quirk. What if I fail?"
I placed a hand on his shoulder. "You won't. I've seen what you're capable of. Just trust yourself."
He smiled—a small, fragile smile—and nodded.
We walked through the gates together, joining the flood of aspiring heroes. I scanned the crowd, recognizing familiar faces—Bakugo, of course, his scowl firmly in place; Ochaco Uraraka, cheerful and determined; Iida Tenya, sharp and serious; and others I'd only glimpsed in my past life.
This is it. This is where it all begins.
The written exam was straightforward—basic heroics, ethics, and combat theory. I breezed through it, my adult mind giving me an edge. Midoriya finished with a nervous look, but I knew he'd done well.
And then came the practical exam. The mock battle against the giant robots—the "villains" we were supposed to defeat.
I stood at the starting line, my body thrumming with anticipation. The arena was a massive open space filled with towering robots, each labeled with a point value. The goal was simple: destroy as many as possible.
But I knew the hidden objective. The zero-pointer at the end. The opportunity to save someone.
I'm not just going to win this exam. I'm going to make a statement.
The starting horn blared, and the chaos began.
I transformed instantly, the drumbeat surging in my chest. My hair turned white, my eyes gleamed, and the world around me seemed to soften—like I was moving through water. I didn't fight the robots head-on. Instead, I used my reality-bending ability to distort the ground beneath them, sending them toppling like dominoes.
Three robots. Six. Ten.
I moved like a ghost, my punches enhanced by the field, my stretches carrying me across the battlefield. The other examinees watched in awe, some even pausing to stare.
"How is he doing that?" I heard someone shout.
I didn't care. I was in the zone, my body and mind working in perfect harmony.
And then I saw it—the zero-pointer. A massive robot, towering over everything else. And beneath it, a girl—Uraraka—struggling to escape.
This is my moment.
I launched myself forward, my limbs stretching to their limit. The ground warped beneath me, propelling me faster. I reached the robot in seconds, my fists glowing with distortion energy.
"HEY!" I shouted. "OVER HERE!"
The robot turned its massive head, and I didn't hesitate. I hit it with everything I had—a full-force punch, enhanced by the field, powered by the drumbeat.
The robot's head exploded in a shower of sparks. It collapsed, crashing to the ground with a deafening roar.
I landed beside Uraraka, panting, my body trembling. "Are you okay?"
She stared up at me, her eyes wide. "Y-yes! Thank you so much!"
I smiled—a genuine, warm smile. "It's nothing. Heroes help each other."
The exam ended moments later. I stood there, surrounded by the wreckage, my heart pounding. The other examinees gathered around, some cheering, others just staring in disbelief.
Midoriya rushed over, his eyes bright. "That was incredible! Suon, you were like—like a force of nature!"
I laughed, exhausted but happy. "I guess I just did what I had to do, it was natural."
But inside, I knew the truth. I'd only scratched the surface of what the Nika form was capable of. There was still so much more to unlock.
And I couldn't wait to start.