Chapter 14: Fire in Motion
The two weeks in New York had flown by a blur of skyscrapers, street food, and Queen T's golden cape streaking across Times Square. Izuku Midoriya stood at JFK Airport with Inko, their suitcases packed with souvenirs, postcards, a Yankees cap, a tiny Statue of Liberty ready for the 14-hour flight back to Musutafu. Hisashi Midoriya loomed beside them, sharp in his suit despite the early hour, his bright smile softening as he pulled Izuku aside near the gate. Inko fussed with her straw hat, giving them space.
"Listen, kid," Hisashi said, voice low and steady, crouching to Izuku's level. "You've got something special with that fire and Telekinetic Flame's a hell of a name, but it's raw. Back home, work on it. Refine it." He clapped a hand on Izuku's shoulder, eyes glinting. "Start with intensity push the heat, make it burn hotter. Then shapes mold it, like clay. Rings, spears, whatever you can dream up. Takes focus, but you've got the grit."
Izuku nodded, soaking it in. "Hotter and shapes, Yeah I got it," he said, adjusting his black cap. "Anything else?"
Hisashi grinned, ruffling his son's green hair , sharper than ever. "Practice safe don't torch the house, huh? Your mom'd kill me. But yeah, keep at it. You're U.A.-bound I can feel it." He straightened, pulling Izuku into a quick bear hug. "Proud of you, champ."
"Thanks, Dad," Izuku said, grinning back. Hotter, sharper gonna turn heads, he thought, picturing flames dancing under his command. New York was step one; this is next. Inko joined them, her eyes misty as she hugged Hisashi tight, whispering something Izuku didn't catch. A quick kiss Inko blushing red and they boarded, waving as Hisashi faded into the crowd.
The trip had one odd day near the end. Hisashi had suggested Izuku take a "Hero Cruise" a tourist boat ride around Manhattan showcasing New York's hero hotspots. "Kid-friendly, fun stuff," he'd said, handing over a ticket. "Me and your mom'll hang back and catch up, you know?" Inko had giggled, nudging Hisashi playfully, and Izuku caught the vibe fast. Oh, he'd thought, smirking inside as he grabbed his cap. They're ditching me for some alone time... probably doing it while I'm gone. He didn't mind, let them have their day. The cruise was decent anyway, Queen T's patrol routes pointed out, a guide rattling off stats but he'd spent most of it plotting his Quirk's next move.
Now, back in Musutafu, the jet lag lingered like a faint hum. The flight landed late, and Izuku crashed hard, waking to a quiet Monday morning in late July. Sunlight streamed through his window, the familiar rooftops of home a stark shift from Brooklyn's jagged skyline. Inko was still asleep worn out from travel so Izuku slipped into his tracksuit, grabbed a water bottle, and headed out by 6:00 a.m. Training time, he thought, sneakers hitting the pavement. Dad's advice let's test it.
He jogged to the park two kilometers now, legs steady from weeks of practice his breath even as he reached a quiet corner near the trees. No joggers yet, just birds chirping and dew glinting on the grass. Perfect. He dropped his bottle on a bench, flexing his hands. Intensity and shapes, sure, he thought, cracking his knuckles. But what if I mix it? Telekinesis moves stuff why not fire too? Not just conjuring moving it like a weapon. The idea sparked hot in his mind fireballs hovering, darting, controlled like his books at school. That's the edge.
He started simple, conjuring a flame orange and flickering, the size of a tennis ball in his palm. Heat prickled his skin, but he was immune, a perk he'd tested in New York melting a popsicle stick for fun. "Hotter first," he muttered, focusing, pushing the energy. The flame flared, edges sharpening, a deeper red licking through. Sweat beaded on his brow not from heat, but effort. Good, he thought. Step one now move it.
He flicked his mind to telekinesis that chest-tug he knew so well and tried wrapping it around the fire. Nothing. The flame sputtered, stuck in his hand like a stubborn pet. "Come on," he growled, narrowing his eyes. He conjured another, letting it hover an inch above his palm telekinesis lifting his hand slightly to fake it then cut the fire's tie to his skin, pushing it outward. It wobbled, drifting a foot before fizzling out in a puff of smoke. Crap, he thought, wiping his forehead. Not even close fire's not solid, it's tricky.
He tried again, conjuring a smaller fireball ping-pong size, tighter and focused harder, blending the pull of telekinesis with the flame's life. "Stay," he muttered, easing it up. It trembled, rising two feet, but flickered wild, dying in seconds. Still crap, he thought, frustration biting. It's not a book it's alive, slipping away. Gotta grip it different. He paced, sipping water, then squared up for round three. Shape it first, he decided. Dad said mold it maybe that's the key.
This time, he shaped the fire stretching it into a thin ring, like a donut of flame, spinning in his hand. Cool, he thought, grinning. Then he pushed telekinesis in, gentle, cradling the ring's edges. It lifted slow, shaky hovering a foot above the grass. One second, two, three Yes! before it wobbled and snuffed out, smoke curling up. Izuku whooped, punching the air. Hovered for real three seconds! That's a start! His heart raced, adrenaline buzzing. Merge is possible just gotta sync it better.
He kept at it, the sun climbing higher. Another attempt fireball, telekinesis, lift two seconds before collapse. Then a spear shape sharp, glowing hovering one second, then poof. Each try drained him, sweat soaking his tracksuit, but the flicker of success fueled him. Hotter, sharper, moving, he thought, panting. Dad's right focus is everything. I'll get it flying flames, my mark. By 7:45, his arms ached, his Quirk buzzing faint under his skin. One last go another fireball, small and tight, hovered four seconds, drifting a shaky arc before dying. Progress, he thought, grinning as he grabbed his bottle. Not perfect, but it's mine.
The park stirred joggers trickling in, a dog barking so Izuku called it, jogging home by 8:00 a.m. The house was quiet, Inko's snores drifting from her room. He kicked off his sneakers, sweaty and satisfied, and headed for a shower. New York gave me the spark, he thought, water bottle dangling from his hand. Now I'm lighting the fire.