Journey through all the multi-verse

Tamayo's POV

The party was a grand affair, as one might expect from the esteemed Yaoyorozu family. The chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow across the ballroom, their light dancing off the polished marble floors. Soft classical music played in the background, blending seamlessly with the murmur of polite conversations and the occasional burst of laughter.

Seated at a table with Mrs. Yaoyorozu and Ms. Yaoyorozu, I found myself thoroughly enjoying our conversation. They were both intelligent and kind, their words filled with wisdom and warmth.

"The event has turned out beautifully, hasn't it?" Ms. Yaoyorozu remarked, her gaze sweeping over the room.

"It truly has," I replied with a smile. "You've outdone yourselves. The decor is stunning, and the atmosphere is so inviting."

Across the room, I caught sight of Kirito and Momo. They were running off toward the buffet table, their faces alight with laughter. My heart swelled at the sight. It was moments like these that reminded me how precious these fleeting, peaceful times were.

"They're such good kids," Ms. Yaoyorozu commented with a smile.

"They really are," I replied warmly. "It's been a joy watching them grow closer."

"They're inseparable, those two," Mrs. Yaoyorozu commented, following my gaze.

I nodded. "They are. Momo has been a wonderful influence on Kirito. It's rare to see him open up so easily to someone."

"Indeed Momo has such a hard time connecting with others her age, It's good to see her interact with someone else her age." Mrs. Yaoyorozu agreed with a smile.

"Young love in bloom," Iroh chimed in, stroking his beard with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Kirito is already making his move. I knew he had my good looks."

I couldn't help but chuckle, while Ms. Yaoyorozu blushed faintly.

"Your good looks, Iroh?" I teased. "He got his charm from me."

Mrs. Yaoyorozu groaned dramatically, leaning back in his chair. "Absolutely not. My Momo is far too young for any of this nonsense. In fact, she's not allowed to date until she's in her thirties, no, her forties!"

At this, Ms. Yaoyorozu reached over and pinched his side sharply, making him yelp.

"Stop saying such ridiculous things," she scolded. "I will have my grandchildren, and you'll be delighted when the time comes."

Iroh, sitting to my left, let out a contented sigh. He patted his stomach lightly and grinned. "The food here is exquisite, but perhaps a bit too rich for me. I think I've overindulged. A cup of jasmine tea would do me wonders right now." He flagged down a waiter. "Could I trouble you for some tea? Jasmine, if you have it."

I chuckled softly, gesturing to the waiter as well. "Make those two cups, please."

Iroh chuckled, "Hear, hear! Let the young ones enjoy their innocence while they can. But when the time comes, I'll teach them all the proper courting rituals—over tea, of course."

Mrs. Yaoyorozu muttered something about keeping his daughter locked away in the house, earning him another sharp pinch from his wife.

The humor and warmth of the exchange eased my mind, if only briefly.

The waiter bowed politely and left to fulfill our request. As we waited, more guests began to approach our table, drawn by the presence of the Yaoyorozu family. Before long, I found myself answering a slew of polite, albeit slightly invasive, questions.

"You look far too young to be a mother," an older gentleman remarked, his keen eyes studying me over the rim of his glasses.

I inclined my head slightly, offering a gracious smile. "You're too kind. I suppose I am fortunate to age gracefully."

"And your attire," a woman interjected, her tone filled with curiosity. "It's so traditional. You don't see much of that anymore. Is it a family tradition?"

"It is," I replied calmly. "For me, wearing traditional clothing is a way of staying connected to my roots. It reminds me of where I come from and the values I hold dear."

Their questions soon shifted to my personal life.

"Being a single mother must be difficult," another woman said sympathetically.

"There are challenges," I admitted, my voice steady. "But the joys far outweigh them. My son is my light, and every step we take together makes the journey worthwhile."

As I spoke, Mrs. Yaoyorozu rose from her seat, gesturing toward a group of well-dressed women. "Tamayo, come with me. I'd like to introduce you to some friends of mine. They've heard about your work and are eager to meet you."

I excused myself and followed her, soon finding myself surrounded by warm introductions and polite conversations. It was then that I noticed two familiar faces approaching—Dr. Kauro Takamura and Hana Fujimoto.

"Dr. Tamayo," Kauro greeted warmly, bowing his head slightly.

"Kauro, Hana," I replied, relief washing over me. "It's good to see you both."

"We've made excellent progress on the projects," Hana said, her excitement evident. "Thanks to the Yaoyorozu family's sponsorship, we've been able to accelerate the timelines significantly."

"That's wonderful news," I said, genuinely pleased. "We'll need to ensure the final phases are executed just as smoothly."

Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden commotion. The sound of raised voices and the murmur of a growing crowd drew my attention. My heart clenched as I caught snippets of the crowd's words.

"Villain," someone said sharply.

"Is that a kid they're fighting?" another voice questioned, disbelief evident.

Mrs. Yaoyorozu frowned deeply. "What's going on?"

One of his security team approached swiftly, bowing slightly before speaking. "Sir, there's a fight breaking out. It seems the heroes are engaged with a small boy."

My heart sank, and a wave of dread washed over me. Reaching out with my senses, I felt the unmistakable presence of Kirito's chakra. It was fluctuating wildly, unstable and raw.

"Iroh," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He turned to me immediately, his eyes sharp with concern. "What is it?"

"It's Kirito," I said, my chest tightening. "He's the one fighting."

Ms. Yaoyorozu gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Kirito? That can't be. Why would the heroes fight a child?"

Around us, the other guests fell silent, their faces mirroring Ms. Yaoyorozu's shock and confusion.

Mrs. Yaoyorozu's expression darkened. "This is unacceptable. Security, intervene immediately. Contact the authorities and find out what's happening."

The cheers and shouts from the crowd grew louder, their intensity stoking my anxiety. Without thinking, I began moving toward the source of the commotion.

"Tamayo, wait!" Iroh called after me, rising to follow.

The four White Lotus guards closed ranks around me, their presence a silent reassurance. Behind us, the Yaoyorozu family and two of their security staff followed closely.

The closer we got, the louder the noise became. I could hear the crowd chanting and shouting, their words blending into a cacophony that set my nerves on edge. Kirito's chakra flared again, sharp and fierce, and my heart ached with worry.

"Hold on, my son," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I'm coming."

As we pushed through the growing crowd, an oppressive wave of killing intent crashed down on us like a tidal wave. My breath hitched at the sheer weight of it—it was suffocating, like standing in the center of a storm. Around us, people fell to their knees, gasping for air, while others fainted outright.

"What is this?" Mrs. Yaoyorozu murmured, her voice strained as she clutched at her chest.

"Stay strong," Iroh said, his voice calm but commanding. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder before addressing the guards. "Assist them. We must move forward."

The guards, unwavering in their duty, supported the Yaoyorozus, helping them out of their dazed state. Iroh, his expression grim, turned to me. "Tamayo, is this...?"

"Yes," I whispered, my voice trembling. "It's Kirito."

A fresh wave of anxiety gripped me, and I quickened my pace, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. The oppressive chakra surged again, sharper this time, and I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay focused.

As I reached the clearing at the center of the crowd, the sight before me stopped me dead in my tracks. My son—my beautiful boy—was on all fours, his small body trembling. His clothes were battered and torn, his face streaked with blood tears that ran like crimson rivers down his cheeks.

What truly shattered me were his eyes.

The crimson glow of his Sharingan stared back at me, the three tomoe within them spinning like a whirlpool. My heart sank at the sight. Three tomoe. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

I knew what the Sharingan represented—what it cost. For all three tomoe to awaken so soon… it meant he had endured something unbearable. The Sharingan wasn't just a power; it was the reflection of a soul that had suffered.

"No," I whispered, my hands trembling. "It's too early… far too early."

The Sharingan wasn't meant to awaken all three tomoe until much later, developing gradually with age and experience. At this stage, he should only have unlocked the first tomoe. But now, all three tomoe shone back at me, a harbinger of the intense emotional storm he must have endured.

"Kirito," I called softly, my voice breaking.

His head snapped toward me, and our gazes locked. His crimson eyes, filled with so much anguish, hope, and desperation, pierced through me.

"Mama," he whispered, his voice trembling. It sounded so fragile—so small.

My heart broke further at the sound.

I took a step forward, ready to reach him, to hold him, to tell him everything would be okay. But before I could take another step, a searing burst of heat caught my attention.

"Get back!" someone shouted.

I barely had time to react as a massive net of flames hurtled toward my son. My heart leaped into my throat.

"Kirito!" Iroh's voice boomed as he stepped forward, a wave of his arm slicing through the fiery net. The flames dissipated into harmless embers, but my blood boiled with rage.

Only then did I notice the towering figure of Endeavor standing nearby, his expression hard and unyielding. I didn't care.

As the last embers flickered out, Kirito's chakra began to wane. The red cloak that had half-covered him faded, flickering like a dying ember, and his crimson eyes dulled, returning to their normal black.

"Kirito," I whispered again, rushing to him.

His small body trembled as I knelt, catching him just before he collapsed. Cradling him tightly, I brought him into my arms, shielding him from the world.

"Shh, it's okay," I whispered, my voice quivering as I held him close. "Mama's here now. You're safe."

I placed my hand gently on his chest, activating my Mystic Palm Technique. A faint green glow enveloped my hand as I began to assess his injuries.

What I found made my blood run cold.

Ripped muscles stretched across his tiny frame, strained to the point of near-tearing. Cracked bones littered his arms and legs, each one a painful reminder of his struggle. Damaged blood vessels frayed from the strain of his chakra. But worst of all were his eyes—his precious, beautiful eyes. The nerves were frayed, overtaxed from the sudden awakening of his Sharingan. He would be blind for months.

Tears welled in my own eyes as I choked back a sob. "My baby boy..."

Before I could say more, a loud cry pierced through the tension.

"Mom! Dad!"

I turned my head sharply to see Momo burst through the crowd, running toward her parents. Her face was pale, streaked with tears that poured freely as she threw herself into her father's arms.

"Papa!" she sobbed, clutching his suit desperately as if he were her lifeline. "It's all my fault! I… I didn't mean to! I didn't know what to do!"

Her father knelt, wrapping his arms around her trembling frame, his voice low and soothing. "It's okay, Momo. Calm down, sweetheart. Tell us what happened."

Momo buried her face into his chest, her words muffled as she tried to explain. "They… they called Kirito a villain! He just wanted to help, but they wouldn't listen! They kept yelling, and then the heroes—"

"Hush, my darling," her mother said, stroking Momo's hair as tears welled in her own eyes. "Take your time. We're here now."

Momo clung to her father tighter, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her emotions. Slowly, between sobs, she managed to recount everything—the taunts, the accusations, and how Kirito had been forced to defend himself.

Mrs. Yaoyorozu's face darkened as she listened, her lips pressed into a thin line. "This… this is unacceptable," she said, her voice trembling with controlled fury.

I glanced down at Kirito, who was now unconscious in my arms, and felt my resolve harden. "This will not happen again," I said softly, my voice carrying a promise of protection.

Iroh stood, his gaze like steel as he faced Endeavor. "You've made a grave mistake today," he said, his tone as calm as it was deadly.

Endeavor looked ready to respond, but whatever excuses he might have made were drowned out by the growing outrage of the Yaoyorozus and the murmuring crowd.

As the chaos swirled around us, I held my son tighter, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Rest now, my love," I whispered. "Mama will keep you safe."

Iroh POV

As Momo finished recounting the events, her father's expression darkened. The Yaoyorozu patriarch was not a man easily angered, but hearing how these boys had started everything and dragged heroes into their pettiness was enough to stoke a fire in his otherwise composed demeanor.

He placed a steady hand on his daughter's shoulder and asked gently, "Can you point them out, sweetheart?"

Momo nodded, sniffling as she raised a trembling hand, pointing directly toward Lickter and his group of cronies, who were now shuffling uneasily near the edge of the crowd.

The moment her finger singled them out, the boys panicked. Their eyes darted to each other before they bolted in unison, hoping to escape the consequences of their actions.

"Not so fast," I muttered, giving a subtle nod to one of the White Lotus guards standing nearby.

The guard, a skilled metalbender, raised his arms. With a fluid motion, the five metal bands coiled around his upper arms shot outward like snakes, expanding and spinning through the air with remarkable precision.

The metallic rings opened mid-flight, stretching and reshaping into flexible but unyielding restraints. They snapped shut around the wrists and ankles of the fleeing boys, pulling them to a halt in one synchronized motion.

"What the—! Let me go!" Lickter shouted, thrashing as the bands yanked him back. His companions fared no better, each captured with ease. Their struggles only tightened the restraints.

The guard gave a slight flick of his wrist, and the five captured boys were dragged forward, skidding to a stop at the group's feet.

"Impressive," Mr. Yaoyorozu remarked, his tone sharp with disapproval. He leaned down slightly, glaring at the restrained troublemakers. "You'll regret your behavior soon enough."

Momo sniffled, then hesitated before pointing toward the heroes who had engaged Kirito.

Her voice trembled as she explained, "Those three... they tried to fight Kirito."

Our attention shifted to the so-called heroes.

The first one lay unconscious on the ground, his jaw grotesquely swollen and clearly broken. His limbs sprawled in an ungainly heap, evidence of his utter defeat.

The second, a wiry man, was upright but battered. Bruises covered his face, and he clutched his ribs, his labored breathing betraying the extent of his injuries. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, painting a grim picture of his failed attempt to subdue a child.

The third hero stood seemingly unharmed, a smug expression plastered on his face as if he were the victor in all this chaos. But it was impossible to take him seriously—not because of his confidence, but because of his costume.

It wasn't damaged at all, yet its garish, clashing colors and excessive sparkles made it nearly unbearable to look at. Bright neon green stripes crisscrossed a blindingly orange background, accented with sequins that shimmered in the light like a disco ball. A ridiculous, oversized emblem of a smiling sun sat awkwardly on his chest, completing the visual assault.

I heard Mr. Yaoyorozu mutter under his breath, "That costume alone should be a crime."

I raised an eyebrow, a bemused smirk creeping onto his face. "Perhaps it's his secret weapon—blind his enemies with bad taste."

Even in the tense moment, I couldn't suppress a chuckle at that.

"Hard to look at, isn't it?" Mr. Yaoyorozu commented dryly, his eyes locked on the third hero's pathetic state.

The hero flinched, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing in return.

I stepped forward, raising a hand for silence as the crowd began murmuring. My tone was calm, but it carried the weight of authority. "Enough of this spectacle. It's time we get to the truth of what happened here."

The scent of scorched air hung heavy as I surveyed the aftermath. Tamayo knelt in the clearing, her arms wrapped protectively around Kirito's small, battered frame. Her healing chakra flickered faintly, a soft glow against the chaos surrounding us, but her face told a different story—anguish and fury warred in her expression.

My nephew.

The sight of him, so vulnerable, stirred something deep within me. My usual calm cracked ever so slightly, a pang of fury bubbling to the surface. But I held it in check. Emotion, while powerful, was best tempered by clarity and reason.

Then he arrived.

Endeavor strode into the clearing, his flames casting long shadows that danced in the waning light. The Number Two Hero carried himself with his usual imposing presence, but there was something in his stance—a flicker of unease beneath the façade. His eyes scanned the scene, landing on me with a hard, scrutinizing glare.

"You," he said, his voice deep and commanding, "are the boy's guardian, I assume."

I stepped forward, placing myself between him and Tamayo. "I am his uncle," I said, my tone steady but cold. "And you, Flame Hero, are the man who thought it appropriate to attack a child."

The crowd murmured at my words, their unease growing as the tension thickened.

Endeavor's flames flared in response, his jaw tightening. "That child is a danger. He was exhibiting powers that—"

"A danger?" I interrupted, taking another step forward. My hands clasped behind my back, but my voice sharpened. "What kind of danger does a boy pose to a seasoned hero like you? A boy who was outnumbered, injured, and clearly acting in self-defense?"

Endeavor's scowl deepened, his flames flickering higher. "He wasn't just some helpless child. He—"

"He was protecting himself!" I snapped, my calm tone giving way to iron. "From bullies, from your subordinates, and from you—a so-called hero who acted without thought or restraint."

The crowd stilled. Even the murmurs of dissent fell silent as my words echoed across the clearing.

"You speak of duty," I continued, taking yet another step closer, "but where was your sense of justice? Did you stop to ask what had happened? Did you even consider that this child might have been defending himself? Or were you too blinded by your pride to see the truth?"

Endeavor's flames flared brighter, his stance stiffening. "I acted in accordance with the situation. The boy's power was unstable. It had to be contained."

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his attempt at justification. "And attacking him without understanding the situation was your solution? You, Flame Hero, possess power without wisdom, and that makes you far more dangerous than any child."

A ripple of unease passed through the crowd. Momo's parents stepped forward, their expressions thunderous.

"This is an outrage!" Mrs. Yaoyorozu exclaimed, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. "That boy is my daughter's friend and a guest of our family! And you thought it appropriate to attack him? Without cause? Without restraint? You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Her husband placed a hand on Momo's shoulder, his face grim. "Recklessness like this will not go unanswered," he added. "The Yaoyorozu family demands accountability."

Endeavor's gaze shifted momentarily to the Yaoyorozus, his expression unreadable. Then, his eyes flicked back to me.

"I don't need a lecture on heroism," he said through gritted teeth.

"No," I replied, my voice low and dangerous, "but perhaps you need a reminder. Power without control is destruction. And arrogance, Flame Hero, is the path to failure."

The crowd hung on my every word, the weight of the moment suffocating.

Tamayo's voice broke through, calm yet fierce. "Iroh," she called, her hands glowing softly as she tended to Kirito. "Enough. Focus on what matters. Kirito needs us."

I nodded to her, turning back to Endeavor one last time. "This isn't over," I said, my tone carrying the finality of a closing door. "There will be consequences for what you've done here. If not by your peers, then by me."

Endeavor's flames dimmed slightly. He gave a grunt of frustration, his lips tightening. "This isn't over," he muttered, turning on his heel and walking away, his pride still intact but clearly shaken.

"No, it isn't," I murmured as I watched him go. "But it will be handled properly."

As the crowd began to disperse, I turned back to Tamayo and the others. Momo was still clinging to her father, her small frame trembling. Tamayo's focus was entirely on Kirito, her determination unwavering.

"Let's get him home," I said softly, the anger in my chest settling into resolve.

The Yaoyorozus nodded, and together, we left the clearing, leaving behind the chaos—and the Flame Hero—to face the consequences of his actions.