Two months had passed since the suspension.

  Dante hadn't expected it, but school had become... bearable. More than bearable, actually. Almost fun—a word he never thought he'd use to describe sitting in a classroom for eight hours a day.

  It was the lunch table that did it. The three of them—him, Kaito, and Akari—sitting together like it was the most natural thing in the world, even though a few months ago they'd been strangers. Worse than strangers.

  Now, they had a routine.

  Kaito always arrived first, claiming the table near the window with the best view of the courtyard. Dante showed up second, bento box in hand, still warm from whatever Chiara had packed that morning. Akari came last, usually with something expensive from the school cafeteria that she'd poke at with her chopsticks while complaining it wasn't as good as her family's private chef.

  It was comfortable.

  Which was why Dante noticed immediately when something felt off.

  The cafeteria hummed with its usual chaos—students laughing, trays clattering, someone's phone blasting a hero compilation video. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching dust motes in golden shafts.

  Dante sat with his bento open in front of him, chopsticks hovering over a piece of pasta, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

  "What will you do for high school? It's your last year of middle school, right?"

  Marco's question from last week still echoed in his head, uninvited and persistent.

  What would he do?

  He'd been thinking about it constantly—turning it over in his mind like a puzzle he couldn't solve. Part of him wanted to understand heroes, to figure out what he could be and could not. Another part just wanted to learn to control his quirk better, to stop being a danger to everyone around him.

  But neither of those things felt like a complete answer.

  A piece of pasta slipped from his chopsticks and hit the table with a wet plop.

  "Dante!" Akari's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and annoyed. "Stop spilling food."

  Dante blinked, looking down at the mess. "Sorry." He grabbed a napkin and wiped it up quickly, cheeks warming with embarrassment.

  Kaito leaned forward, elbows on the table, concern flickering across his face. "You've been really out of it lately. Everything okay?"

  Dante sighed, setting his chopsticks down. "Yeah. Just... thinking about the future, I guess. What I'm going to do after this."

  He tried to laugh it off, keep it light. "Only eight months left, right? Feels like this year's going by way too fast. I'm actually going to miss this."

  The words came out more sincere than he intended.

  Kaito's expression softened. He understood. They all did.

  "Yeah," Kaito said quietly. "Eight months. Feels like we just started."

  Then his face shifted—determination replacing the melancholy. He straightened in his seat, shoulders squaring like he was bracing for impact.

  "Actually," Kaito said, voice a little too loud, a little too bright, "I've been thinking about that too. About high school."

  Dante glanced at him. Akari looked up from her rice.

  Kaito took a breath. "I'm applying to UA."

  The words hung in the air for a beat.

  Dante blinked. "UA? Like... the UA?"

  "Yeah." Kaito's smile was nervous but genuine. "I know it's a long shot. Like, a really long shot. But I have to try, right? I want to be a hero. A rescue hero, specifically. Someone who prioritizes getting people to safety over flashy fights. And the pay is good, which would help Grandma out. So... yeah. UA."

  He laughed, scratching the back of his head. "I know I don't have a quirk, but there are support courses, and—"

  "You're delusional."

  Akari's voice was flat. Clinical.

  Kaito's smile faltered.

  Dante's head snapped toward her. "Akari—"

  "I'm serious." Akari set down her chopsticks, expression unreadable. "Do you even know what kind of school UA is? The acceptance rate is less than one percent. The entrance exam is designed to filter out anyone who can't destroy targets with combat quirks. The hero course is built for people with flashy, offensive abilities."

  Her amber eyes locked onto Kaito's. "You're quirkless. How exactly do you plan to pass an exam that requires you to destroy giant robots?"

  Kaito's jaw tightened. "I'll figure something out. There are other ways—"

  "Are there?" Akari leaned forward, voice sharpening. "Have you looked at the statistics? Quirkless students don't pass the UA entrance exam. Ever. The system isn't designed for you. I'm not trying to be cruel, Kaito. I'm trying to prepare you for reality."

  "Akari, that's enough," Dante said, his voice low.

  She ignored him. "You have options. Apply to schools with strong support programs. Shiketsu has good tech courses. Even general education at UA would be more realistic than aiming for the hero course. But going in blind, hoping for a miracle—that's just setting yourself up to fail."

  "So I shouldn't even try?" Kaito's voice cracked slightly, anger bleeding through. "Is that what you're saying?"

  "I'm saying be smart about it—"

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "Easy for you to say." Kaito stood abruptly, his chair scraping harsh against the linoleum. His hands were shaking—whether from anger or hurt, Dante couldn't tell. "You were born with a quirk. Born with money. Born with connections. You'll get a recommendation to UA without even trying. But me? I can't even dream about it?"

  His voice rose, drawing stares from nearby tables.

  "Why don't you just tell me to die in a ditch while you're at it?"

  Akari's expression flickered—surprise, then something sharper. Guilt, maybe. But her voice stayed cold. "That's not what I—"

  "Save it."

  Kaito grabbed his bag and stormed out, shoving past a group of students without apologizing.

  The cafeteria had gone quieter around them. People were staring.

  Dante started to stand. "Kaito, wait—"

  But he was already gone.

  Dante turned back to Akari, frustration bubbling in his chest. "Did you have to be that harsh?"

  Akari's jaw was tight, her hands clenched into fists on the table. "I was being realistic."

  "You were being cruel."

  "I was trying to save him from getting his heart broken later." Her voice wavered slightly, the cold facade cracking. "It's better he hears it now than after he wastes months preparing for something impossible."

  Dante stared at her. "You don't know it's impossible."

  "Yes, I do." Akari's eyes were bright—too bright. She looked away, folding her arms across her chest. "The world doesn't work on hope and dreams, Dante. It works on money and power and quirks. Kaito has none of those things. I was just—"

  She stopped. Swallowed hard.

  "I was just trying to help."

  Dante didn't respond. He just grabbed his things and left, following the direction Kaito had gone.

  Behind him, Akari sat alone at the table, staring at her untouched lunch.

  Her hands were still shaking.

  I sound just like her, she thought bitterly. Just like Mom.

  The realization made her stomach twist.

  She stood abruptly and walked out of the cafeteria, ignoring the whispers that followed.

  Three Days Later

  The lunch table felt too big with only two people.

  Dante sat across from Akari, both of them eating in silence. Kaito's usual seat—the one by the window—sat empty.

  It had been three days since the argument. Three days of Kaito avoiding them in the hallways, sitting alone during lunch, leaving class the moment the bell rang.

  Dante had tried texting. No response.

  Akari hadn't tried at all.

  "This is stupid," Dante muttered, stabbing his pasta with more force than necessary.

  Akari didn't look up from her phone. "What is?"

  "This. The silent treatment. We're supposed to be friends."

  "Are we?" Akari's voice was flat. "Because friends don't usually tell each other their dreams are pointless—Right?"

  Dante looked at her. Really looked.

  She was wearing her usual mask—perfectly styled hair, expensive clothes, expression carefully neutral. But there were cracks. Dark circles under her eyes that makeup couldn't quite hide. The way her fingers tapped restlessly against her phone case. The fact that she'd barely eaten anything all week.

  "You didn't mean it," Dante said quietly.

  Akari's tapping stopped. "What?"

  "You didn't mean to hurt him. You were not wrong. Its… its hard to admit your dream is pointless."

  She was quiet for a long moment.

  Then: "It doesn't matter what I meant. He's not talking to either of us."

  "So we fix it. Somehow?”

  "How?"

  Dante didn't have an answer. They finished lunch in silence.

  That Evening

  Dante found himself at Kaito's grandmother's food stall again.

  It had become a habit over the past two months—stopping by after school, ordering a bowl of stew, sitting at the counter while Kaito worked. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn't. It was comfortable either way.

  But tonight felt different.

  Tonight, Dante was watching.

  Kaito moved behind the counter with practiced efficiency—taking orders, ladling stew, collecting payments. His grandmother hummed in the back, stirring the massive pot with slow, deliberate strokes.

  Everything seemed normal.

  Until Dante saw it.

  Kaito reached for the backup pot in the storage area—the one Dante knew from experience was heavy The kind of heavy that required two people to lift safely, as he saw in another shop a while back.

  Kaito picked it up with one hand.

  Not struggling. Not straining. Just... lifted it. Like it weighed nothing.

  He carried it to the front counter, set it down gently, and went back to serving customers without even breathing hard.

  Dante's chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth.

  What the hell?

  He watched more carefully after that.

  Kaito caught a falling bowl mid-air—reaction time too fast to be normal. He restocked heavy crates of vegetables, lifting them effortlessly. Also balanced three full trays on one arm while navigating through a crowded stall without spilling a drop.

  Small things. Things you wouldn't notice unless you were looking.

  But Dante was looking now.

  "Stew's good, right?" Kaito's voice broke through his thoughts.

  Dante blinked, realizing he'd been staring. "Uh. Yeah. Great. As always."

  Kaito grinned—the first real smile Dante had seen from him in days. "Glad you like it."

  "Hey, Kaito—"

  "Yeah?"

  Dante hesitated. Should I ask?

  "...Never mind."

  Kaito tilted his head, confused, but didn't push. "Alright. Let me know if you need anything else."

  He turned back to the counter, and Dante watched him lift another heavy pot without effort.

  Quirkless, Dante thought. He said he was quirkless.

  But no many can lift that without help or a strength enhanced quirk.

  Dante finished his stew, paid, and left.

  But the question followed him all the way home.

  The Next Day - After School

  Akari wasn't planning to follow Kaito.

  She just happened to be walking in the same direction. Toward the park near his neighborhood. Completely coincidental.

  I'm not stalking him. I'm just... making sure he's okay.

  She told herself that even as she hung back, keeping him in sight but staying far enough away that he wouldn't notice.

  Kaito walked with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. He looked tired.

  Akari's chest tightened.

  I did that. I made him feel like this.

  She was about to turn back—this was stupid, invasive, wrong—when two boys stepped out from behind a tree.

  Middle schoolers. Maybe a year older than Kaito. One was tall and lanky with a smirk that made Akari's skin crawl. The other was stockier, arms crossed, blocking Kaito's path.

  "Hey, Yamada," the tall one said. "Heard you're planning to apply to UA. Is that true?"

  Kaito stopped. "What's it to you?"

  "Just curious." The boy's smirk widened. "I mean, you're quirkless, right? Seems like a waste of time."

  "Leave me alone, Haru."

  "Aw, don't be like that." Haru stepped closer. "I'm just trying to help. Save you the embarrassment."

  The stocky boy laughed. "Yeah. Imagine showing up to the entrance exam with nothing. That's just sad."

  Kaito tried to step around them. "I said, leave me alone."

  Haru's hand shot out—fingers glowing faintly blue.

  He tapped Kaito's shoulder.

  The effect was immediate. Kaito's body launched backward like he'd been hit by a truck, flying through the air and slamming into a row of metal garbage bins with a deafening CRASH.

  The bins dented inward. One toppled over completely.

  Akari's vision went red.

  "You're very brave," she said, her voice cold and sharp as a blade, "using your quirk after school hours in a public park."

  Both boys whipped around.

  Akari stood at the edge of the path, arms crossed, embers flickering across her skin like angry fireflies. Her amber eyes blazed.

  Haru's smirk vanished. "Oh shit—Tanaka—"

  "Run," Akari said softly. "Before I decide to file a report."

  They ran.

  Akari walked over to where Kaito was pulling himself out of the garbage, brushing off banana peels and crumpled paper.

  She offered her hand.

  Kaito stared at it for a moment, then pushed himself to his feet without taking it.

  "Thanks," he said quietly. "But I'm fine."

  Akari's hand dropped to her side. "Kaito—"

  "I need to get to the shop. I'm already late." He dusted off his uniform, avoiding her eyes. "See you later."

  He walked past her without another word.

  Akari stood there, watching him go, fist clenched at her side.

  Then she looked back at the garbage bins. One of them had a dent. A deep, metal-warping dent where Kaito's body had hit. He'd been thrown with enough force to do that.

  And he'd gotten up like it was nothing.

  No bruises. No blood. Not even winded.

  Akari's mind started turning, pieces clicking into place. This was too odd. hes not even phased much.

  Quirkless people don't walk away from that.

  She pulled out her phone and started typing a message to Dante.

  [Akari: We need to talk. About Kaito]