The train ride to Nagoya was quiet.Kaito sat beside his father, legs swinging just above the floor of the private car, notebook tucked into his lap but unopened. Akihiko stared out the window, arms folded, eyes following the blur of trees and towns as they sped past.They weren't speaking.Not because they were angry—but because there was nothing casual to say.This wasn't a family trip.This was a visit.To the other side.To his mother's father.Kaito had met his maternal grandfather once, years ago, when he was barely old enough to remember it. A quiet man with a voice like gravel and eyes that always seemed to be watching something beyond the room. He lived away from the estate, away from the family's legacy. Far from the politics of the Yukimura name.His mother said he liked peace.His father said he liked being forgotten.Now, they were going to him with a purpose.Because Akihiko had made a decision.Kaito would register his quirk.Officially.It had been long enough since the incident with Reina. Long enough for a diagnosis. A narrative. A simple explanation for what had happened.And that explanation was waiting in Nagoya.A new origin story. A convenient truth.A cover.The countryside looked different than Musutafu—more open, more faded. The colors seemed older. By the time they stepped off the train, the wind carried a chill Kaito hadn't felt at home.They didn't take a car.They walked.Half a mile down an old dirt path, through rows of bamboo and rustling brush, until a small wooden house appeared at the top of a hill.No guards. No gates. Just a man standing at the edge of his porch, waiting.Kaito stopped.Akihiko stepped forward and bowed."Thank you for seeing us."The man didn't return the bow. But his expression softened when his gaze dropped to Kaito."So this is the boy," he said.His voice was rough, like stone rolling through old water."Come inside. It's cold."The house smelled like cedar and tea leaves.Kaito stepped through the doorway, his shoes left neatly outside, and immediately felt the shift. It was quiet—not just from lack of sound, but in the way the walls breathed. Everything here was simple. Clean. Old.There were no portraits. No staff. No technology humming in the corners.Just wooden floors, hand-cut shelves, and a low table with three cushions already waiting."Sit," the old man said.Kaito did.Akihiko remained standing until the old man gave a single nod.Only then did he sit.The silence stretched.Then, without preamble, the old man said, "You used your quirk."Kaito blinked. "Yes, sir.""To fly?"He hesitated. "Yes.""From a girl with wings."Another pause. "Yes."The man leaned back. His eyes, sharp and steady, never left Kaito's face."Tell me what else."Kaito looked at his father, but Akihiko didn't speak. Didn't move.Kaito turned back to his grandfather."I… touched her. Then I had wings. They didn't go away the next day. Then I touched someone else. I got something new. And that didn't go away either."His fingers curled on his knees."I kept them."The man was quiet for a long time.Then he exhaled through his nose."Like your mother suspected."Akihiko raised an eyebrow. "She told you?""She wrote to me. Said the boy felt different. Too calm for someone carrying power."The man's gaze returned to Kaito."Do you know what your mother's quirk was?"Kaito shook his head.The man stood slowly. Walked to a cabinet near the wall. Pulled open a drawer and removed a small, polished stone no bigger than a marble. He held it between two fingers.Then, without warning, he tossed it through the air—straight at Kaito's face.Kaito flinched.Then reached out.His hand didn't just catch the stone—it pulled it in. Like the air between his fingers and the object had bent.He stared at it.His fingers tingled.The sensation was like... gravity shifting around his hand. A push. A pull.The old man raised an eyebrow."Well?"Kaito looked up. "That… wasn't me.""Yes," his grandfather said. "It was."Akihiko stepped forward, arms crossed. "So you confirmed it.""I didn't do anything," Kaito said. "I just moved to catch it and then—then I felt it come to me.""You copied it," his grandfather said plainly.Kaito blinked. "That was your quirk?"The man gave a single nod. "Push and Pull. I've had it all my life. You touched the effect—you copied it. And now, you can feel the space around things. Influence them. Pull them toward you, push them away."Kaito opened his hand again and looked at the marble.He didn't feel tired. The quirk felt… solid. Stable. Like it had always been there.Akihiko said nothing for a while. Then: "It'll work."His father looked at the old man. "We register it. Say it's a mutation. Gravity-based. A mix from both sides of the family.""A rare trait passed down," his grandfather agreed. "Strong enough to attract attention, but grounded enough not to raise flags.""And the rest stays quiet."Kaito felt the weight of those words settle in the room.His grandfather knelt in front of him, eyes level."From now on," he said, "this is your quirk. Push and Pull. You don't need to lie. You just need to stick to the truth we choose."Kaito nodded slowly.And just like that, a new version of himself was born.Not the truth.But something close enough to live by.Kaito stood at the edge of the clearing behind his grandfather's house, the marble still nestled in his palm.The old man had gone back inside without another word. Akihiko had remained on the porch, watching silently, arms crossed in that way he always did when he was waiting to see what Kaito would do next.No instructions. No pressure.Just space.Kaito liked that.He turned the marble in his fingers. It didn't hum or glow or twitch with hidden power—but it felt different now. He feltdifferent.He took a breath, held out his hand, and opened his fingers.The marble didn't move.Not until Kaito thought about it—not willed it, but remembered the sensation from earlier. That subtle pull in the air, like gravity shifting just around his fingertips.The marble quivered.Then rolled forward across his palm.His eyes widened.He curled his fingers again. The marble rose slightly.Push.It drifted backward, hovered for a heartbeat, and dropped.He gasped.A laugh slipped out—genuine and light.Akihiko said nothing. But Kaito saw the corner of his mouth twitch.That afternoon, Kaito's grandfather brewed tea while Akihiko stepped out to take a call. The old man moved with deliberate care, his hands steady even when the kettle hissed and the cups clinked against the wood."You're not afraid of your quirk," he said without looking up.Kaito sat cross-legged on the tatami mat. "Should I be?"The man poured the tea, then met his eyes. "No. But you should respect it.""I do.""That's why you're already better than most."Kaito sipped carefully. "Why didn't you ever visit us?"The man's gaze softened. "Because I didn't want to fight with your father. And because your mother asked me not to.""Why?""She wanted you to grow up with calm in your life."Kaito set the cup down. "What if I don't get to keep that calm?"The man didn't answer right away.Then: "Then you'll have to find it inside yourself."Kaito nodded slowly, as if storing the words somewhere important.That night, Kaito couldn't sleep.The small guest room smelled like pine and dust. A futon had been laid out with clean sheets and a folded blanket, but he spent more time staring at the ceiling than using it. The marble rested under his pillow, cool and smooth against his hand.He didn't want to forget what it felt like.Not the object—the connection.It wasn't like flying. That had been wild and exhilarating and impossible to control. This was different. Grounded. Centered. It felt like the earth listened to him, like things wanted to move—not because he forced them, but because he understood where they wanted to go.That was the difference.Reina's quirk let him rise.This one made the world respond.He slipped out from under the covers and crept to the sliding door. The hallway was dark and silent, only the soft whisper of wind brushing the paper screens. Kaito padded barefoot across the wood floor and slipped outside into the cool night.The clearing was waiting.Same as before.Stars glittered above, and the tall grass swayed gently, brushing against his legs. He held out his hand. Closed his eyes.This time, there was no marble.Just instinct.He thought about weight.About how things fall. How they balance. How they rest and resist.And then he opened his eyes and pushed.The air shifted.Not violently. Not enough to knock anything over.But enough to make the grass flatten briefly in a wide ripple around him—like a small pulse had pushed outward from his chest.He blinked.Tried again.This time, he pulled.A cluster of leaves drifted toward him, rising from the ground as if caught in a soft breeze.He smiled.Then frowned.Because something about it felt… too easy.Too natural.And that's what scared him.He had only touched his grandfather's power once.And yet it was responding to him like he'd lived with it his whole life.He thought about his father's words.About control. Trust. Legacy.Then he thought about Reina's wings. About the quirks that hadn't faded. About how no one—not even his grandfather—knew the truth.They thought he was gifted.But he was more than that.And he didn't know how long he could keep pretending otherwise.
He crouched in the center of the clearing, arms wrapped around his knees, the air still humming faintly from the pull he'd just created.The leaves settled around him again.He didn't move.Didn't want to.Because the silence here was different. Not like the estate back home, where silence meant something was expected of you. Not like the study, where silence was permission to speak if you had the right answer.This was the kind of silence where he could breathe.Where he didn't have to prove anything.Where his quirk didn't make him a weapon or a theory.Just… a boy.Kaito lay back in the grass and stared up at the stars, wondering how many other people had ever had quirks like his—quirks they had to hide. Power they didn't understand. Voices in their heads telling them not to mess up. Not to be noticed.Not to be too much.The stars didn't answer.But the wind did.It shifted gently, curling around his arms and lifting the ends of his hair.He smiled and whispered, "I hear you."By morning, the old man had already made breakfast.Nothing fancy—grilled fish, steamed rice, pickled vegetables. But it was the best meal Kaito had tasted in weeks.Akihiko was already dressed and standing near the door, the car waiting outside."It's time," he said simply.Kaito finished the last bite of rice and looked toward his grandfather.The man set his teacup down."When you register the quirk," he said, "say it started this year. Say it manifested gradually. Say it feels like gravity responding to your mood."Kaito nodded."And if someone tries to test you?""I'll let them think it's instinct, not memory."The old man smirked. "Good. You might just survive this family."Akihiko gave a single nod of agreement.Kaito stood, bowed deeply, and whispered, "Thank you."His grandfather waved a hand. "Thank me by staying a kid for a little while longer."As they stepped into the morning light, Kaito felt something shift in his chest.The lie wasn't over.But now… it had a shape.It had permission.And he was no longer just the boy who copied wings.He was the boy with Push and Pull.And to the world?That was all he needed to be.