chapter 6: Quiet Strength
Evenings at the group home had a rhythm of their own.
A train in the distance. The low clatter of forks and plates from the kitchen. Kids laughing too loud at a cartoon they'd already seen ten times. All of it folded into the kind of background noise that felt... safe. Like a pause between breaths.
Three days had passed since the U.A. assessment.
Three days since I pushed past limits I hadn't even known I had—with Uraraka at my side and Aizawa watching from the sidelines.
Now?
I was just Riku again.
Lying in my usual creaky bed, sharing a room with Souta. My notebooks stuffed in a drawer, the calendar above them cluttered with circles around vague "someday" goals.
The results would come soon.
Any day now.
And I told myself I was ready.
Whether or not I believed it? That was another story.
---
I woke before sunrise. My body moved before my brain caught up—habit, instinct. Muscles still sore from the assessment. Bruises coloring my skin in ways I almost took pride in.
Not pain from being beaten down.
But pain I earned.
The house was quiet. I slipped outside barefoot, the courtyard cold beneath my feet. The morning air bit sharp, dew slicking the grass, and the sky was just beginning to lighten.
I took position. Inhaled.
Let's begin.
---
Training Log – Day 54
Start with Observation.
I closed my eyes and reached inward. Focused on the rhythm of my breath. In, out. Let everything else drift.
Then I extended outward—gently, deliberately.
A bird stirred on the fence. Souta's breathing in the next room rose and fell. Downstairs, Hana-san was already in the kitchen, water starting to boil. Four heartbeats. Familiar. Steady.
My Observation Haki flowed like a low fog. Subtle. Present.
But I pushed for more—tuning not just to presence, but intent. Distinguishing calm from stress, ease from tension. Details. The kind that could mean everything in a real fight.
Once the sense dulled back to background, I moved into forms. Smooth transitions. Shadow fighting across the courtyard with invisible opponents.
Feint. Step in. Elbow strike. Twist. Guard.
Armament was trickier.
I knew emotion could activate it, but relying on raw feelings was a trap. Anger flared too wildly. Grief had too sharp an edge. I needed something steadier.
So I focused on memory.
The blank, relentless face of the training dummy.
The watchful stillness in Aizawa's eyes.
The storm of canon events I knew were waiting outside this quiet life.
My forearm tingled. Hardened.
The Haki surfaced—rough, uneven, but there.
I held it.
One second.
Two.
Then let go.
Still not consistent. Still not reflex.
But closer than yesterday.
---
"You're up early again?"
I looked over.
Souta leaned in the doorway, hair a mess, shirt too big. His eyes squinted against the morning light, but his smirk was clear enough.
"You're kind of obsessed."
I shrugged. "Disciplined."
He plopped onto the old bench. "You look like a monk who lost a street fight."
I cracked my neck. "You know what I do have that the monks don't."
"Inner peace. Hot breakfast. And a decent haircut."
Can't argue with that.
---
The morning rolled on. I helped the younger kids with chores.
Mina managed to drop her plush toy down the laundry chute—again. Keita almost toppled himself reaching for the cookie jar. I caught him just in time and gave him the look. The one that meant we've had this talk before.
It was normal stuff. Nothing heroic about it.
But it helped keep the nerves away.
Until the house phone rang.
Hana-san picked up. For a heartbeat, I froze.
This is it.
But it wasn't. Just something about a donation pickup. She hung up like it was nothing.
Not today.
---
Rain came after lunch—steady, quiet.
I took shelter in the shed behind the house. My little corner of the world. Some mats on the floor. A dented punching bag swaying from a hook. A space that smelled like old wood and effort.
I wrapped my hands and opened my notebook.
Training Notes – Post-Assessment
Observation Haki: Refine under calm conditions. Next step: simulate high-noise situations.
Armament Haki: Focus on steady triggers. Emotion-based activation is unstable.
Scenarios: Build multi-target drills. Use Souta and timers for unpredictability.
I stared at the page, then tapped the pen against it.
"I need to level up."
Because the truth was simple.
What I had wasn't enough.
Not yet.
I shut the notebook. Got back up.
Strike. Shift. Parry. Breathe. Harden. Release.
Again.
---
By dinner, the rain had let up.
Souta took over the kitchen. Something vaguely edible was sizzling.
"Try not to set the place on fire," I said, walking by.
"I'm a culinary artist," he replied, flicking the pan with flair.
"You're a health hazard."
He grinned. "Says the guy with a death wish and a hero complex."
That made me pause.
I hadn't talked to him much about the assessment.
But Souta… he noticed things. More than I gave him credit for.
He tossed a bread roll at me. I caught it one-handed.
"Thanks."
We ate in front of the TV, watching a special on famous Pro Heroes. Endeavor barked orders. Hawks barely looked awake. Present Mic made a pun so bad, even the little kids groaned.
Souta nudged me with his elbow.
"So? Think you got in?"
I didn't answer right away.
Then: "I think I made an impression."
He nodded.
"That's enough," he said. "Because who you are? That's already enough."
My chest tightened.
I looked away.
---
Later that night, after lights-out, I cracked the window open.
The city shimmered in the distance, quiet and soft. I pulled my notebook into my lap—not the training one. The other one.
Just thoughts.
Journal – Day 3 Post-Assessment
Waiting is harder than failing.
Failing at least means it's over. You know where you stand.
But this? It's like being on trial, and the judge hasn't even walked into the room yet.
Uraraka probably crushed it. She deserves to get in.
As for me?
If I do make it—I'm not wasting that shot.
If I don't?
Then I'll carve my own path. Hero course or not.
Because I didn't get reborn in this world just to sit still.
---
A soft knock on the door made me jolt.
It creaked open.
Hana-san.
"You awake?"
I slid the journal under my pillow. "Yeah."
She stepped in, holding something in her hand.
A thin envelope.
No logo. No color. No mistake.
I felt it before I touched it.
U.A.
She handed it over gently. "Just came in. Figured you'd want a little privacy."
I nodded. "Thank you."
She left, door closing behind her.
I sat there for a moment. Just holding it.
Then opened it.
---
No shouting. No fist-pumping.
Just silence.
Letting the words land.
> Congratulations, Riku Akashi. You've been accepted into the U.A. Hero Department Preparatory Track. Further details to follow.
I slid the letter back into the envelope. Leaned against the wall. Let my eyes drift shut.
This wasn't the end.
It wasn't even the beginning.
It was the next step.
And I was ready.