MHA: LAW OF MOTION

CHAPTER FIVE

"Congratulations, you've been nominated for the Young Pioneers Award, Marcus," Sarah said, taking a bite of her crepes as she passed me her phone.

"Well, would you look at that? Thought those old farts at the academy hated my guts."

"Don't be such a smug asshole about it. It's the premier honor for individuals in our field. It shows that they see the prospects for your research. People are finally taking note of your potential."

"Nah, they're just mad I don't care for their opinions. Outdated fossils like them, mooching off their past achievements, shouldn't be so self-righteous."

"I need you to take this seriously Marc. This is a really big deal for us. I know everything seems to come easy to you, so you underestimate things, but I hope you take this seriously."

"You're making this seem like something I can intervene in. It doesn't matter anyway. The other nominees aren't as special. It'll be a breeze."

"You're such an insufferable prick, Marc." Sarah sighed as she snatched her phone back from me.

"Love you too, babe." To that, I got a pillow to the face.

"SARAH."

With an immediate jolt, I shot out of bed. Disjointed memories, scenes blurred in shadows, and a grief so great only my father's death could compare.

All I could do was huddle in a corner of my bed with my blanket wrapped around me. All I could do was weep.

After nearly an hour, when I finally managed to pull myself together, I looked up at my bedside clock and sighed at the unfortunate fact that it was already morning.

"What a shitty way to start the day. Yippee."

I immediately walked toward the bathroom, mumbling about how humans were not built to function at five in the morning.

I groaned as I stared at the sink, annoyed at how high it was. Without hesitation, I set up a stool so I could properly reach it.

Humming a song to myself, I brushed my teeth with my All-Might-themed toothbrush and toothpaste.

Looking in the mirror, what greeted me was a dark-skinned kid with a hint of dark circles under his eyes, deep brown irises, frazzled puffy hair, and an overall tired image.

It had been a year since the funeral, and Rio was already six years old. He had recently moved up a grade at school. The teachers insisted on promoting him to a much higher grade since, obviously, the elementary school curriculum could no longer pose a challenge for him.

His mother adamantly refused, though. She wanted her kid to be in a class with his peers. It was a whole back-and-forth situation, to be honest. After much rambling and deliberation from both sides, the matter was settled: I would proceed with the normal procedures.

I would never admit it, but I was actually really happy I got to stick with the class. Hana was so excited that I wasn't splitting up with her that she gave me her limited-edition Crust the Shield Hero figurines.

I immediately went downstairs, picking up a rag and a broom, ready to wipe all the furniture and clean up any remaining mess.

Mom had taken up two more jobs to support the family. She usually came home very late into the night, exhausted—so tired she couldn't even eat and just went straight to sleep.

She took it upon herself to cook for us sometimes after a grueling day at work, but both Takeru and I could see the toll it took on her.

From then on, both of us decided we'd handle the meals. Well… Takeru mostly. Even though I had proved myself competent, they still wouldn't let me near the knives.

It was disconcerting. My brother and my mom could have full-fledged adult conversations with me, and then the next moment, they'd act like I was a babbling baby.

I usually gave him shit for it, but when Mom did that, I just sighed and silently accepted it.

I took in the scene of the whole room.

With a deep breath and a forceful exhale, a flash of golden lightning surged from my feet, and a blur zoomed past all the furniture.

Plates on the dining table, packets of chips left out, as well as any unnecessary clutter, were immediately taken care of.

With a loud swoosh, the motion stopped, and all that was left in its wake was a completely pristine living area. It looked like something straight out of a real estate ad.

My lungs burned, and I felt woozy, but a big-ass grin nearly split my face in half.

"God, I love my Quirk."

Wiping off the small beads of sweat resting on my face, I immediately made my way to the yard, where my brother, Takeru, was steadily balancing himself on one hand. He strained his muscles, slowly descending before lifting himself back up, repeating the motion.

I took a bottle of water that lay on the floor and silently watched him. After moments of fruitless effort, my brother finally collapsed to the ground, panting.

I walked up to him and passed him the bottle of water. He snatched it from my hand and took big mouthfuls of the cool liquid. With a loud gulp, he sighed in relief.

Offering a hand, I helped him up.

"That's some bullshit you're pulling off there. What the hell were those one-handed upside-down push-ups?"

My brother took deep breaths in succession, likely trying to regain his composure, before replying in a snarky tone.

"Swearing doesn't make you sound cool, Rio. Stick to cartoon dialogue, kid."

"Why, you little s—"

"You could pull it off easily, couldn't you?" Takeru said as he wiped off his sweat with a towel.

"That's different. I have high-speed healing. I can quickly condition my muscles—quick breakdowns and repairs mean I can get stronger way faster." I picked up the equipment lying around.

"Sure thing, short stuff."

Takeru was only eleven, but he was already standing at an impressive five-foot-eight.

Meanwhile, I was the normal height for a six-year-old—four feet. A literal dwarf in comparison.

"You're on kitchen duty today. What are you cooking?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Takeru, like with everything else, took to cooking with ease. Sure, we were all subjected to some really dark dishes at first, but as he got better and better at it, his cooking became downright divine. I think he actually started enjoying it.

"Firstly, I'm always on kitchen duty. And secondly, I really need to take a bath," he said, pointing at his sweat-soaked figure.

"Stop acting all mysterious, you're not a sigma. And stop acting like cooking is a hassle—you're so excited to do it, you goddamn princess."

"Why, you little shit—when I catch you—"

Takeru immediately sprinted into action, stretching out his hands to grab me.

I took off running, laughing triumphantly.

"Please, I could circle this planet twice over, and you'd still not have taken even a step."

"I highly doubt that. You have the endurance of a seventy-year-old obese man."

We darted around the living room as I continued to rile him up—until the sound of footsteps on the stairs broke us out of our reverie.

"Good morning, kids. Glad to see you're all getting along."

Mom greeted us with a small smile.

At that remark, we both turned our heads away from each other and huffed in disagreement.

Mom just smiled at our antics, clearly amused.

"Go clean up, both of you. You're a mess. Be down for breakfast—I'm cooking up something special today."

I immediately flashed toward the bathroom, determined to get in the shower before my brother.

Izumi stood on the steps, patting down her windblown hair, unsure of what was going on. She looked at Takeru, wanting answers.

He just shrugged and made his way upstairs, clearly unbothered.

We all sat at the table as Mom served up steamed rice, miso soup, grilled fish, and an assortment of side dishes.

The aroma filled the room, warm and familiar, a small comfort in the midst of everything.

We gave our thanks for the meal and immediately dug in. My portion was served in an oversized bowl—something I had long since gotten used to. My Quirk burned through calories at an insane rate, and if I didn't eat enough, I'd be running on fumes before noon.

It was one of the biggest expenses keeping us down. The budget for my meals alone could probably feed a family of ten.

As we ate, Mom watched us with quiet affection. Her sons—so much like their father. She rarely voiced it, but we knew. We saw it in the way her eyes softened, in the way her lips pressed together like she was holding back words she wanted to say.

She had noticed the small things. The way we helped out, how we took up responsibilities without being asked.

And it had been a relief.

But it wasn't enough.

She wanted more for us—so much more. And the weight of that desire pressed down on her, so heavy she could barely breathe.

We kept the conversation light, making easy chatter as we finished up our meal.

Takeru quickly cleared the plates, already in a rush to get ready for school. I helped where I could before grabbing my own bag.

Soon enough, we were out the door, heading toward the train station together.

We waved to Mom as she boarded the bus, her figure growing smaller as the vehicle pulled away.

"Don't forget to get home quick—we've still got work to do on the program," Takeru reminded me, still waving at the moving bus.

"I'll be there quick. Promise."

We bumped fists before stepping forward, the rising sun casting long shadows behind us.