Chapter 3: My Hero

  The streets were quieter now, the excitement of the morning battle already fading into memory.

  After a short walk through winding residential streets, Hiro arrived at home — a small, two-story house tucked into a quiet neighborhood. The garden was modest but well-kept, and a small potted plant stood by the entrance, a little droopy from the summer heat.

  He stepped inside, calling out, "I'm home!"

  Silence answered him.

  Of course. His mother wasn’t back yet.

  She worked as a primary school teacher and usually didn’t return until later in the evening.

  Hiro slipped off his shoes and padded into the living room.

  The house felt a little too big when it was just him inside.

  It had been like this for as long as he could remember — just the two of them, facing the world together.

  His father had died when Hiro was still very young. The memories he had were blurry at best, but there was one image he remembered vividly — his father standing tall in a shining hero costume, smiling as he ruffled Hiro’s hair.

  He had looked so cool back then, like the very image of a true hero.

  His father had once been a rising star among heroes, hailing from the prestigious Arakawa family, a lineage known for producing generations of powerful Singulars.

  But despite the pressure and the expectations, Hiro’s father had chosen to marry Hiro’s mother — a woman whose family line was known for having weak, unimpressive abilities.

  In the world of heroes, strength mattered.

  Families with strong Singularities arranged marriages to breed even stronger offspring, hoping for powerful mutations to emerge.

  His mother hadn’t fit that mold.

  But his father had loved her, and in the end, love had won — for a while.

  After his father died in battle, everything changed.

  The Arakawa family turned cold, their true feelings showing through.

  And when it became clear that Hiro had not inherited his father’s powerful ability, but the weaker one from his mother — a Singularity known as Vital Stream — the scorn only deepened.

  They ostracized him and his mother, treating them like stains on their prestigious lineage.

  Unable to endure the sneers and backhanded remarks, Hiro’s mother had cut ties with the Arakawas and moved them to this quiet town, starting fresh with nothing but her own hard work and determination.

  Hiro sat down on the worn couch, staring at the ceiling.

  He could still remember the tears his mother had tried so hard to hide the day they left.

  He had promised himself, even back then — he would become strong enough to make her proud.

  Even if the whole world looked down on him, he would prove that he could still be a hero.

  After a quick shower, Hiro busied himself around the house.

  He swept the floor, tidied up the living room, and prepared a simple dinner — rice, grilled fish, and a salad.

  He wasn't the best cook, but he'd learned enough to help out whenever he could.

  The sky outside had turned a dusky purple by the time the front door opened with a soft clack.

  "I'm home!" a cheerful voice rang out.

  Hiro peeked around the corner.

  Standing at the entrance was his mother — a beautiful woman with smooth black hair tied loosely at her back and kind black eyes that crinkled when she smiled.

  Hiro had inherited her delicate facial features — the soft jawline and sharp nose — but the resemblance ended there.

  His hair, a striking snow-white, and his vivid blue eyes were a direct mark of his father, setting him apart in a way he never quite knew how to feel about.

  His mother spotted the dinner laid out and her face lit up.

  "My hero strikes again!" she said brightly, her voice filled with warmth.

  Hiro scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "It's no big deal…"

  She laughed and ruffled his hair affectionately, something she hadn't stopped doing even as he grew taller.

  They ate together at the small dining table, Hiro feeling a familiar comfort settle in.

  After dinner, as his mother started clearing the dishes, Hiro lingered, tapping his fingers nervously against the table.

  He hesitated — then blurted out, "Mom… What was Dad’s hero name?"

  The plates clinked softly in her hands as she froze for a second.

  She turned around slowly, her smile fading into something softer, sadder.

  "Why do you ask, all of a sudden?" she asked quietly. Hiro shrugged, pretending nonchalance.

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  "It’s nothing. I just… saw a hero fight today. And… I saw a poster too. From… you know, that family.

  It just made me wonder what Dad was like. In his hero days."

  For a moment, his mother didn’t say anything.

  Her hands tightened slightly around the dishes she was holding.

  Hiro knew — whenever he brought up his dream of becoming a hero, his mother would grow worried, sad.

  She had lost someone she loved once to that dangerous world.

  And she avoided talking about his father because it hurt too much to remember.

  A pang of guilt stabbed Hiro’s chest, but… he really wanted to know.

  About the man he barely remembered but admired so much.

  After a long pause, his mother finally put down the dishes and sat across from him.

  "I know…" she said slowly. "I know you want to be a hero, Hiro."

  He held his breath, thinking she was about to refuse him again, to tell him he wasn’t cut out for it.

  "But…" she continued, her voice trembling just slightly, "I also know that trying to hold you back isn’t right.

  You need to walk your own path — even if it scares me."

  Hiro's eyes widened.

  She smiled, a little sad, a little proud.

  "Your father's hero name…" she said, her voice soft, "was Yukiman."

  Hiro blinked.

  "Yukiman…?"

  She chuckled, wiping her eyes quickly with the back of her hand.

  "It’s simple, right? Like 'Snow Man.' Your father’s powers were snow-based, and he liked the sound of it. He said it made him feel approachable… like someone the people could rely on."

  Hiro smiled without realizing it, warmth blooming in his chest.

  Yukiman.

  It was a simple name, but somehow it felt real, strong — just like the image he had of his father.

  He was about to thank her, about to say something —but his mother wasn't finished yet.

  Hiro’s mother stayed quiet for a moment longer, as if weighing her next words carefully.

  Finally, she took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting slightly with the hem of her sleeve.

  "There’s… something else," she said, her voice lower, hesitant.

  "I've been debating whether or not to tell you. I didn’t want to give you false hope, Hiro."

  Hiro straightened, sensing the serious tone.

  She looked him in the eyes, steady despite the sadness lingering there.

  "Back when we left the Arakawa family… when we came to this town… I went to the registry office to change our last names."

  At that, Hiro stiffened slightly.

  He knew this story — or at least part of it.

  The Arakawa family had demanded it as a condition for their "mercy," that his mother and he relinquish the Arakawa name.

  They didn’t want the blemish of weak Singularities staining their prestigious bloodline.

  Even now, the thought made Hiro’s chest burn.

  His mother noticed his expression and gave a small, apologetic smile.

  "I know, Hiro. It hurt me too," she said gently. "But… listen."

  "When I was at the office, filling out the paperwork to change our names back to my maiden name — Shiratori — an old clerk there looked at our forms and suddenly asked if we were related to someone."

  She paused, and Hiro leaned in unconsciously.

  "He asked if we were connected to the 'Flying Hero — Shiratori.'"

  Hiro blinked, startled.

  "Flying hero...?"

  She nodded slowly.

  "I didn’t know what he was talking about back then. I thought it was just a coincidence, or maybe a mistake.

  But after we settled here, I asked my mother about it. And… she told me that, a long time ago — four generations back — there really was a hero in our family known by that name."

  Hiro’s heart thumped in his ears.

  "But…" his mother continued, frowning in confusion, "you know about my Singularity. It's been passed down unchanged through our side of the family for as long as anyone can remember. Just simple Vital Stream… nothing strong or flashy.

  So how could someone from our bloodline… fly?"

  Her eyes clouded for a moment as she wrestled with old doubts.

  "I couldn’t understand it either. And honestly, I thought it was better not to tell you.

  I was afraid you might cling to it. Chase after a tiny thread of hope... and if it turned out to be nothing, you'd be crushed."

  She reached out and took Hiro’s hands in hers, squeezing them warmly.

  "But now," she said, voice trembling slightly, "I realize... it's not my place to decide for you.

  Whether you choose a stable, safe life... or chase your dream down an unknown and dangerous path… it’s your choice, Hiro."

  Tears welled faintly in the corners of her eyes, but her smile never wavered.

  "I just want you to know," she whispered, "that no matter what happens, I’ll always be proud of you. My Hero."

  Hiro sat frozen for a moment, feeling a strange, powerful weight settle inside him.

  The possibility that there was more to his ability than he ever believed...

  The hope that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as weak or broken as everyone thought…

  Slowly, Hiro clenched his fists.

  The embers of his dream, which had been quietly burning in his heart, suddenly flared brighter.

  "Thanks, Mom," he said, voice steady.

  His mother wiped her eyes with a soft laugh.

  "Now, finish your homework," she teased lightly, "or even if you become a hero, you’ll be a very dumb one."

  Hiro laughed too, a real, full laugh.

  For the first time in a long while, he felt like the future — however uncertain — had opened just a little wider before him.