The quirk registry office in Musutafu was a beige, blocky building that looked more like a post office than a place where powers were officially recorded. Rows of chairs lined the waiting area. The air buzzed faintly with the sound of printers and the clicking of keyboards.Kaito sat quietly beside his father, his legs too short to touch the ground, hands folded neatly in his lap.He was here to register his quirk.Push and Pull.That's what the paper would say.Quirk: Push and Pull
Type: Emitter
Manifestation Age: 6
Details: Gravity-based quirk allowing the user to attract or repel objects within a small radius. Activation appears tied to intent and emotional focus. Assumed familial mutation from both maternal and paternal bloodlines.The clerk looked bored as she tapped the information into her system. She asked no follow-up questions, barely glanced at Kaito, and stamped the official seal on the form before pushing it back across the counter."Done," she said.Kaito stared at the paper for a long moment.Then nodded.Akihiko took it, folded it once, and slipped it into his coat.And that was it.The world had been told who he was.Even if it wasn't true.Back at home, Kaito returned to his usual routine. Morning lessons. Afternoon reading. Quiet evenings with tea and books. The staff treated him the same. The halls still echoed with soft footsteps and low conversation.But everything felt different.Because now he was training.Not openly. Not under his father's guidance. Not even in the gym.But privately.Alone.In the hidden corners of the estate—the storage cellar, the old shrine behind the garden, the farthest part of the inner wall where no one ever went.He practiced pushing leaves into the air.Pulling pebbles without touching them.Bending falling water from a fountain just slightly off-course.And every time he felt the quirk answer him, every time it moved just as he intended, he reminded himself:"This is the lie I have to make true."Because one day, someone would test him.And when they did, he couldn't afford to fail.He kept a new notebook now.Not the old one hidden under the floorboard—that one held too many truths. This one was clean. Simple. Something anyone could find and not think twice about. He left it in his desk drawer, labeled in neat handwriting:Push and Pull – Control NotesHe filled it with numbers, sketches, and little diagrams of movement arcs. How much he could shift a leaf at different distances. What direction worked best when he was standing versus crouching. How emotion affected response time—especially frustration, which made everything flicker too hard, too fast.He made mistakes.Sometimes he pulled too sharply and tore things.Sometimes he pushed and couldn't stop it right away.Once, he knocked over a stack of ceramic bowls in the staff kitchen. He apologized quickly, bowed twice, and said he tripped.No one questioned him.But later that night, he wrote:"Don't train too close to others. Even instinct has consequences."Still, despite the mistakes, he was improving.Not because he was special—but because he wanted to be good.He wanted to earn the lie.In the evenings, when he finished everything else, Kaito would sit on the porch step outside the west wing and watch the sky turn pink over the garden.Sometimes, he imagined wings again.Not Reina's.His own.But they never came.That part of him—the flying part—had gone quiet.He wasn't sure why.Maybe it knew he needed to be grounded right now.Maybe it knew he had something else to build first.A few days later, Akihiko stopped him in the hall."Walk with me."They didn't go far. Just through the inner courtyard, under the stone archway, and into the shaded path near the koi pond."You've been calmer lately," Akihiko said.Kaito kept his gaze on the stones. "I'm trying.""I've seen that. You're focused. Disciplined."A pause."I wanted to ask you something," his father continued. "Do you know why people become heroes?"Kaito looked up. "To help people?"Akihiko nodded. "That's part of it. But more often, they become heroes because they want to protect something."He stopped beside the water's edge."Power without direction is dangerous. But power without purpose is empty."He turned to Kaito."I'm not asking you to decide your future now. You're still a child. You deserve to stay one. But when the time comes—when people start watching you—know what kind of hero you want to become."Kaito didn't answer right away.Then he whispered, "I want to be the kind who doesn't forget.""Forget what?""Why I started."Akihiko studied him for a moment. Then nodded.And that was enough.That night, Kaito climbed onto the roof.Not the main roof—the old one above the garden shed, just high enough to see the stars without being seen from the windows. He brought his second notebook with him. The one marked Push and Pull. The one that only told part of the story.He flipped to a fresh page and wrote:"I don't know what kind of hero I'll be.
But I want to be one."Below that, in smaller writing:"Not like Dad. Not like the old stories.
I want to protect things people don't notice."He stared at the words for a long time.Then, without even thinking, he reached for a pebble near the roof tile.It floated into his hand with a gentle tug.He closed his fist around it and breathed in.The next morning, he asked Reina a question."Why did you become a maid?"She blinked, caught off-guard while folding laundry."It's what I'm good at," she said finally. "Why do you ask?""I think I'm going to be a hero someday."Reina smiled. "I think you might already be one."Kaito tilted his head. "Even if no one knows?"She set down the blanket and knelt beside him."Heroes aren't made the day they're noticed," she said. "They're made the moment they decide to care."He stared at her.Then smiled.And in that moment, he felt something shift inside him—not a quirk, not a buzz or a pull. Just a quiet click, like a key turning in the right lock.He didn't know what kind of hero he would be.But he knew he had started walking the path.And he wasn't going to stop.