The car finally pulled into the long, winding driveway, and I stared up at the imposing mansion that loomed before me.
The Takeda estate was more than just a mansion; it was a fortress, an institution.
Its massive marble walls were cold and unforgiving, flecked with the occasional touch of greenery—a few strategically placed ivy vines, clinging to the sides.
Nature itself had been carefully arranged to suit the aesthetic.
A long, perfectly manicured path led to a set of massive double doors, their dark wood polished so finely that they shimmered in the late afternoon light.
"We're here, Young Master," Mr. Carson said, his deep voice cutting through the silence as he opened the car door for me.
"How charming" I sarcastically replied.
The mansion that was both a home and a prison, the place where expectations were as high as Mount Everest.
As I stepped out, my shoes clicking against the gravel, I couldn't shake off the familiar feeling that the entire estate was watching me, judging me before I'd even taken a step inside.
Mr. Carson, tall and thin with his perfectly groomed salt-and-pepper hair, moved with quiet efficiency.
I followed him through the front door, into the vast foyer.
The air inside was cool and crisp, though the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers lingered.
But the air wasn't just cold. It was precisely cold.
Carefully attuned to stimulate the human body's sensory nerves to calm the mind.
The placement of every object, every fixture, was calculated.
Everything here had its purpose here, even the lighting.
I walked deeper into the mansion.
The occasional maid or butler moved through the hall, their movements efficient, heads lowered, eyes trained on their tasks.
They weren't just servants; they were like moving pieces in the complex system that was this household.
Everything was managed. Ordered. Under control.
I passed a mirror—long and slim—and I looked at my reflection briefly.
A momentary pause, wondering how I appeared in this place. In this world.
I was… out of place, if I was being honest.
I didn't belong here, not really.
I didn't share the same edge, the same aura of power that my family had.
Their quirks, their presence, their legacy.
I could only think of myself as a foreign stranger into this fantasy world, dragged here through unknown methods.
"The family is waiting for you in the office," Carson said, interrupting my thoughts.
I nodded, pushing my feelings of detachment aside.
The office.
A place where life-altering decisions were never quite as final as they seemed, but always had consequences.
As I walked down the hall, my mind began to churn with memories of the family I was about to face.
The Takeda family Patriarch and Matriarch weren't affectionate.
Not by any stretch.
They were respected, admired, maybe even feared, but they were never kind.
Never warm.
Or at least, I hadn't seen that side of them.
I respected them, of course.
They had brought teachers and professors that taught me everything I knew, gave me support beyond anything I could have dreamed of.
But they weren't family.
They were mentors, cold and calculating.
A business operation. Nothing more, nothing less.
I wasn't bitter. Honestly, I wasn't.
I was grateful.
In this world of quirks, of heroes and villains, I had it easy.
The resources, the education, the knowledge, I had access to it all.
But... it's not easy to silence the thoughts of your parents disappointment in you.
I found myself frozen outside the office door, my hand hovering over the handle.
But I steeled my resolve, and I pushed it open, stepping inside.
The room was dimly lit, my shadow stretching long across the walls.
The heavy wooden desk at the far side of the room looked as though it belonged to someone far older, far more imposing.
My father, Hiroshi Takeda, sat at the head, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that felt as though they could burn through stone.
He was a man of immense stature, his broad eight foot frame a testament to both his physical power and the weight he carried as the patriarch of the family.
His black hair was combed back, and there was a sharpness to his features—an unmistakable presence that commanded authority.
[Hiroshi Takeda image]
Respect. Ambition. Legacy.
That was the family trinity that my father followed religiously.
He had clawed his way from Japan, Kyoto's slums to the Top 10 Heroes in the U.S. with a quirk that turned him into a literal demon—Oni.
Piercing horns, crimson skin, strength to level skyscrapers.
The whole package.
[Image]
He was well known throughout the nation as a staunch guardian of the common citizen.
Until he suddenly retired that is.
Even I didn't know the reason for it. No matter how much I pestered the workers of the house.
We made eye contact, and he didn't look at me compassionately.
He never did.
"You're late," he said, his voice low, controlled, like the growl of an animal waiting to strike.
"I wasn't aware there was a scheduled meeting," I replied. "Besides, I was out." My voice came out flat, almost detached.
"Your sarcasm is noted, Haruko," he replied. "Sit down. We have something important to discuss."
I moved toward the seat opposite him, my eyes flicking briefly to my mother, Eleanor Takeda, her blonde hair tied up in an elegant yet functional bun.
[Eleanor Takeda Image]
Her expression was mute, though her eyes betrayed the strain of someone who was constantly balancing a hundred different things at once.
She was a Swiss-American heiress whose quirk, Eidetic, let her memorize and replicate any simple movement or task after seeing it once.
Alongside my father, she'd turned that power into a national business—Hero's reserves.
It provided contracted Hero Agencies with whatever they needed.
Connections, workers, supplies, optimized training regimes, diet plans, etc..
The room fell silent for a moment before my father spoke again.
"You've reached the age where we can no longer continue sheltering you, Haruko," he said, his voice thick with finality.
"You've had the perfect environment, the perfect supplements, every advantage that others would dream of, and yet you still lack what is most essential in this world."
I didn't need him to finish.
He was talking about my lack of a quirk.
Of raw power.
In a world where strength was everything, I was a liability in his eyes.
A stain on the house's prestige.
He wanted, not the skill to effortlessly beat down street thugs, nor the keen intellect that could solve murders.
But power that could topple a city if used properly.
The silence between us thickened, broken only by the tick-tick-tick of the antique clock above his desk—the one he'd bought the day I was born.
Father's jaw clenched slightly, his eyes narrowing at mine.
I knew that look.
The same one he'd worn when the doctors confirmed my quirklessness at six years old.
Then again at seven.
Then eight.
Then nine.
Ten, eleven, twelve, and shockingly, at thirteen years old too.
'He still hopes,' I realized, my throat tightening.
'Even now, part of him waits for me to awaken a latent quirk.'
"Decisions have been made…" His voice carried on.
I saw Mother's hand twitch against her teacup—chamomile, unsweetened, always unsweetened.
A usual sign when she was unsettled.
"...You'll depart for Japan tomorrow. To attend the school of an old acquaintance. The Alma Mater of the world's greatest hero— U.A."
My brain froze for a second as I processed his words.
"...come again?" I managed to ask.
Mother's glasses fogged slightly as she leaned forward over the steam from her cup. "It's an opportunity Haruko."
My father didn't move, but continued on. "An opportunity for you to prove that you're more than your blood. That you can graduate quirkless from a Hero school. And you will do it without any support from the family."
My Mother added, "Perhaps it might even awaken a potential within you that you didn't realize you had."
Ice slid down my spine.
'Yeah….. No.'' I thought, my stomach twisting.
'I'm quirkless, why can't they just accept that?'
'And they might not know now, but Japan will become a literal warzone in the future.'
'Midoriya can handle that mess. I'd die with the slightest misstep.'
"What if I refused?" I asked them.
"Why would you refuse?" my father asked.
"Why would I go?" I refuted.
My parents stayed silent, so I continued, "I assure you, Father, I am not as useless as you believe. The effort it would take the average pro hero to dismantle a Villain's hideout, I could do it in a fraction of effort and time by organizing the appropriate Raid party. I am not useless. I am not without merit. I am—"
"Weak" My father interrupted, his skin morphing crimson red for a brief second.
The silence curdled in that moment as me and my mother flinched backwards slightly..
"You are weak, Hakuro." He breathed deeply. "You are weak. And Fragile. And Frail. And ultimately helpless."
Each word he directed at me was like a shot to my soul.
The voice in which he said it made it seem like a simple fact. Like it was the world's law, and it was unchangeable.
"You are a liability on any battlefield, or any situation that involves combat when the villains you face possess any semblance of common sense."
"..."
"No amount of your 'deductions' will help you against their power."
"..."
"I will not play along with the notion that you are not a weakness to this house."
There wasn't much I could say to that, because in the end, he was right.
Like always.
Raw power would always win.
I unconsciously reached my hand into my pocket, my voice a bit quieter than earlier, "As always Father, you've hit the mark precisely."
And I began fidgeting with the cold, metal coin, "I truly am… the weak, quirkless heir."
We stayed locked in eye contact before I said, "But I'm still curious. On the off chance I refuse to go…"
"You'd be disowned as the heir." My father answered immediately. "As well as whatever consequences that would follow it."
The sentence hung in the air.
It didn't need to be clarified.
If I didn't go, I would be exiled from the family.
The tension in the room was palpable.
My mother merely watched, the faintest trace of pity in her gaze.
'I really might just let myself be disowned. Its far better than risking my life in Japan.'
'At the very least, I'll try everything to convince Father to send me to another school.'
'Shiketsu High is almost close in prestige to U.A. He might let me attend it.'
But when I opened my mouth to interject, "I'd rather—"
"!"
Pain.
It hit like a spear through my skull—white, hot, alive.
My vision splintered into infinite versions of the persian rug laying on the floor, as I clenched my fists to maintain my sanity and composure in front of my parents.
Knowing how they viewed me, I didn't want to seem weaker than they already thought.
But despite my effort, I'm sure my face paled in the next second.
"U.A."
The voice from my first waking moment in this world—the one that had hissed "Unveil the World's enigma"—now shredded my brain with static.
"U.A."
"U.A."
"U.A. U.A."
"U.A. U.A. U.A. U.A."
"U.A. U.A. U.A. U.A. U.A. U.A. U.A."
My Teeth ground so hard I tasted blood as I bit down on my tongue to maintain consciousness.
'Fight it.' I told myself.
'Refuse it.'
'Don't listen—'
"!"
Another spike. Deeper.
That thing inside my skull hissed loud enough to push away my own thoughts.
Eventually I couldn't suffer anymore, and decided to give in, and the pain subsided.
My shallow breaths filled the previously silent room.
"...I'll go."
The words tore free, raw and ragged.
My father sat in place, watching me, still emotionless, but with a colder glare.
While my mother gave me a worried look.
Rubbing my aching forehead, I looked at my father, "I'm assuming you've already decided what course I'm entering?"
'I hope he at least lets me do the support course. That should be vastly safer than the Hero course.'
"Hero course," My father barked, as if ordering an airheaded employee. "No child of mine grovels in Support."
'Of course.Because only glory mattered. Only the spotlight.'
The room went silent once more as the conversation ended.
Father nodded, already turning away. "Pack light, and pack quickly. The entrance exam's on February 26th. Prove to us you deserve the Takeda name. If not, then prepare for the consequences."
Mother gave me a brief, thoughtful glance, before rising to her feet as well.
They left through separate doors—Mother to her garden, Father to his study—leaving me with the metal tang of blood in my mouth from my bitten tongue.
I leaned back in my chair.
'The exam is February 26th…'
'Today is the 20th.'
'Six days left.'
'Six days to pass the hero course entrance exam armed with nothing but anime trivia and my intellect.'
But now that I'm thinking about it…
Although the safest way would have been to stay away from Japan, going there wasn't a complete death sentence.
I had knowledge of the future, of the villains, their plans. Albeit some of it wasn't complete.
Assuming I plan things right, I could possibly avoid any potential hardships coming my way.
I stood up, my mind wandering through all the different essentials I needed to pack before I left for the airport.
'Laptop, hard drives, my chemical set, Insight's disguises.'
I left the room lost in my thoughts, but I barely made it three steps out of the office before I was ambushed.
"Haku-nii!" A bright, cheerful voice echoed down the hallway, half-song, half-war-cry.
I glanced over, and saw two little girls.
Yuna, her golden hair streamed behind her as she skidded around the corner, socks slipping on polished marble.
[Yuna Image]
Hana trailed silently behind her, clutching a notebook to her chest like a shield, while her short black hair bobbed up and down as she ran.
[Hana Image]
My younger twin sisters, 7 years old.
My only sense of family in this place.
They shared a rather unique quirk, Siren.
Yuna could use her enchanting voice as a weapon to bewitch others, while Hana had superb control over water she conjured.
Their quirks, because of their potential, drew my father's attention immediately.
His harshness and unyielding demands never wavered, especially on his talented children.
But I made sure to be there for them.
For Yuna, when her lullabies quieted under Father's criticism, I'd dance like a goof, and hum off-key until her giggles drowned out his scowls.
For Hana, whose tears turned to icicles before they hit the ground, I smuggled caramel taffy and told bad puns to lift her spirits.
When Hana's tutors sneered at her stutter and uses a ruler to smack and punish her, I "accidentally" spilled boiling hot tea, ruining their tailored clothes, and personally ensured they would never enter this city again.
When I noticed one of Father's potential clients had his gaze lingering too long on Yuna. With a perverted leer smeared across his face, I "accidentally" leaked his tax fraud to the authorities. Causing his entire hero agency to collapse and file for bankruptcy.
He should be somewhere in Alaska, with 25 years left to serve in prison.
A back to turn to?
No.
I made myself a shield for my sisters.
I would never allow them to be put in harm's way.
Quirk or not.
"We know," Yuna declared, planting herself in front of me with her hands on her hips.
Behind her, Hana peeked over her notebook.
Twin pairs of eyes gleamed at me—one stormcloud gray, one seafoam green.
"Know what?" I asked with curiosity.
Yuna stomped her foot. "Don't play dumb! You're taking the U.A. exam! Carson told us you're leaving!"
A faint hum tingled in my ears—the barest ripple of her quirk.
I flicked her forehead.
"Ack!" She flinched back.
"No mind-control for interrogations Yuna. House rules."
She stuck out her tongue, the hypnotic shimmer in her voice dissolving into a pout. "But Hana wanted to ask too! Right, Hana?"
Hana's notebook inched higher, hiding everything but her blushing cheeks. A tiny orb of water floated above her free hand, quivering like a nervous jellyfish.
"Ah," I said, crouching to their eye level.
"So this is a joint operation. Are you going to drench my favorite clothes if I refuse?"
The orb plopped onto the floor with a splat. Hana mumbled into her notebook, "…No….Only…Worried…you'll…leave…Not…come…back."
Standing beside her, Yuna crossed her arms, suddenly serious.
"You can't go be a hero if you're quirkless! You'll get smooshed!"
To emphasize, she mimed an explosion with her hands, complete with sound effects.
The display mimicked a villain fight that was on TV last week.
I glanced at her. "You watched the Las Vegas incident footage again, didn't you? After I said you shouldn't watch videos about murder."
"Irrelevant!" Yuna countered, trying to avoid the question.
She grabbed my sleeve, her voice dipping into a melody that made the air thrum. "Stay heeeere. Dooon't Leeeeave…"
The hallway swayed—a warm, syrupy pull at my thoughts.
'Clever brat.'
She'd been studying the notes I had written for her after researching some similar powers in the Quirk Foundry Database.
Physical contact made her quirk stronger.
"Yuna," I said, pinching her cheek. "What did I say about consent?"
She released me with a huff. "Something boring! Hana, backup!"
Hana's fingers twitched. The spilled water on the ground snaked up my pant leg, freezing into a manacle around my ankle, chaining me to the floor.
I raised an eyebrow. "Trapping your beloved brother? Harsh."
Hana's eyes widened. "S-sorry! I just—"
"—wanted to help," I finished.
Then I grabbed a vial from my pocket and coated the ice with a chemical solution.
It was a concoction I specifically created to handle her ice.
I easily broke free with a kick.
"Relax you two. If I can't handle my baby sisters, I've got no business facing villains. Besides, the U.A. entrance exam will be easy. Just a couple of robots."
Yuna gasped. "Robots?! Like the ones in Metal Mayhem: Ultimate Showdown?!"
"Think Bigger." I grinned.
"And deadlier?!"
"Debatable." I shrugged.
She spun to Hana, vibrating. "We gotta train him! Imagine if he could use your powers! Water vs. robots! Boom! Splash! Take that, stupid tin cans—!"
Hana tugged Yuna's braid, shaking her head. "…Bad idea…water conducts electricity…If only…my water…was pure H2O… Then…it wouldn't."
I blinked. "When did you learn that?"
She shrunk behind her notebook. "…Nii-san's notes…on his desk…"
Oh.
Those notes.
It was my personal encyclopedia detailing every quirk and their loophole that I could study from the past decade.
It was useful when studying the Quirk convergence theory, and helped me in unexpected fights.
Yuna grinned, her teeth glinting. "We raided your room! You're slooooppy."
"And you're both thieves," I said, hoisting them under each arm.
They squealed as I spun them—Yuna laughing, while Hana's notebook tumbled to the floor from her giggling.
"But!" Yuna wriggled free, scrambling to plant herself on my shoulders. "If you insist on going—"
Hana escaped too and scooped up her notebook, flipping the page furiously before shoving it in my face:
[PLAN TO KEEP NII-SAN SAFE (BY HANA & YUNA)]
1) Yuna sings to make robots and students fall asleep!
2) Hana floods arena!
3) Nii-san wins by default!
4) Celebration cake (chocolate with LOTS of sprinkles)!
I stared at the bullet points.
Then at their eager faces.
Then at the doodle of me riding a tsunami with a surfboard while Yuna conducted an orchestra of snoring people.
"Flawless strategy," I said solemnly. "But I'll stick to winning by my own effort."
Yuna groaned as she leaped onto my back. "Your plans are no fun! It's always 'analyze' this. 'My hypothesis' that. You just have to punch everyone in their face to win!"
"It's fun to me." I chuckled as I plucked her off my shoulders.
"Now scram. If Mom finds you here skipping lessons, she'll add me to her specimen collection."
They fled in a whirlwind of giggles and half-formed quirk sparks—Yuna belting off-key lyrics about "robot doom," Hana trailing droplets that bloomed into tiny ice flowers behind her.
I watched until they turned the corner, the warmth in my chest more fulfilling than any quirk.
I began walking to my room to prepare my things.
Japan occupied in my mind—not as a sentence, but as a question mark.
What would the air smell like there?
Would U.A.'s halls buzz with the same manic energy as the anime?
Did All Might actually produce steam after transforming, or was that an exaggeration?
A slight laugh bubbled up within me, sudden and bright.
'Fictional characters.'
Japan and the people in MHA always seemed like just a story.
Even if I was in their world, I had never actively sought them out.
But soon, they'd be flesh-and-blood.
I could poke Dark Shadow, and see if it would feel like static.
Debate with Iida if putting your feet on the desk was actually rude to the seniors.
I was sure the seniors themselves did it too. So it's kind of like a freshmen ritual at that point. And we should honor that by putting our feets on the desk.
I would vandalize All Might's hero posters and see how Midoriya or better yet, Nighteye, reacted.
An ice flower cracked under my shoe in my room. Evidence that my sisters really did raid my room.
I wondered if I would regret the decision to allow myself to be shipped to Japan.
To leave all I had known.
To leave my sisters.
But I would talk to them frequently, I was sure.
Yuna would probably flood my phone with voice memos daily.
And Hana would video call to show me how well she practiced her quirk.
And this house I was leaving behind? It wasn't a home to leave—just a prologue, dusty and done.
But whatever I felt, I knew I was heading to japan, after leaving behind—
Chapter 3 - The Takeda Household
------------------------------
Yoooooooooo!
So...
How was the Takeda family?
Are they cool? Interesting?
I wanna know what you thought of them!
Any critiques about the Chapter are appreciated. I wanna be better obviously.
But some compliments wouldn't hurt... (It motivates me to keep writing this for free lol.)