The train came to a silent stop, its massive bulk gradually easing to a halt.
Not a single blast of the train’s horn broke the quiet, as if the familiar sound of travel had been forgotten.
Contemplating a romance faded by the relentless march of time, Kirishima stepped onto the platform, breathing in the long-missed air of home.
The journey had been filled with pleasant encounters and cherished moments—until the latter part when difficulties emerged.
Things had gone smoothly right up until his farewell with Samat and the others in Kyoto. Tetsuya had clung to him in tears, but Kirishima had managed to soothe him, and then they parted ways. In their own quiet way, Samat and Takeru—proof enough that they had faced many goodbyes—sent him off with calm resignation.
Even meeting Hatsume briefly, after she completed crafting that bone-conduction headset fashioned like a crown of thorns, had been a welcome encounter. Though she was a bit exhausting to deal with and he still couldn’t fathom why it had to be a crown, her device’s performance was undeniable.
Most likely, he would end up displaying it at home and replacing it with another gadget that offered only the functionality, yet it was still worth carrying along.
After leaving Kyoto, Kirishima headed off to learn wrestling—and encountered the very problem he had feared.
"Yeah. That guy was the worst," he muttered.
In truth, wrestling wasn’t an absolute necessity for someone like Kirishima, whose strength far exceeded that expected for his size. Being able to force an advantageous position and dominate in clinches and takedowns was certainly an asset.
But for opponents of ordinary human weight, closing the distance against him proved nearly impossible. Few could withstand punches that exploded forth at supersonic speed with the destructive power of tank shells. Even if they managed to block, the sheer impact would send them hurtling backward.
And even if they slipped past the blows and managed to engage him on the ground, they would need a charging speed that outpaced Kirishima’s inhuman footwork—a nearly impossible feat. Even if such a miracle occurred, a single swift motion might send them flying.
There was also the problem of grappling. Once his [Hardening] activated, Kirishima’s body would sharpen like blades, unintentionally inflicting grievous injuries.
Still, mastering wrestling or jujutsu would expand his repertoire, and for a gambler, having more cards up one’s sleeve was always an advantage.
Thus, putting aside the temptation to linger longer in Kyoto, he deliberately made his way down to Yamaguchi—only to be greeted by a rotund middle-aged man whose presence was as imposing as a barrel.
Nonetheless, Kirishima maintained his calm as he assessed the situation. It wasn’t uncommon for former athletes, once vigorous in their youth, to put on weight after retirement. Having spent years rigorously cutting weight, once the constraints were gone, those long-suppressed appetites would ignite.
"I figured as much. It was nothing but wishful thinking—and in the end, I was betrayed," he thought.
After exchanging greetings with the rather sleazy man, Kirishima found himself led to a dingy hideout where, with his gang, the man attempted to lynch him.
Once Kirishima had swiftly subdued them all, he inquired about the reason behind the ambush, receiving an answer so ludicrous it defied belief. The man shrugged, saying he simply wanted to rough up some idiot who prattled about martial arts.
Kirishima was flabbergasted but refrained from further violence; once an opponent was completely neutralized, unleashing more brutality was nothing more than tiring—unless he planned on killing and burying them all.
Instead, he leaned close, met the man’s gaze, and said, "You fool. Watch closely to see how far these idiotic martial artists can rise. In a few years, you’ll be seeing my face on TV, with 'Strongest' splashed across the screen. And yet, you'll probably still be wallowing like this." After his words, and eyes still trembling with fear, Kirishima turned away.
That very day, he headed back up into Kanagawa Prefecture. His destination was to study Yagyu Shinkage-ryu, a martial art whose legacy stretched back to the early Edo period. Given its emphasis on armored jujutsu, it seemed a natural fit for his style. While his movements remained unaffected in [Hardening] mode, pushing it to its maximum left him somewhat stiff—a state not unlike wearing full armor. Logistically, it would have made sense to proceed directly from Tokyo, but due to unforeseen circumstances, it had been relegated to a lower priority.
Arriving in Zushi City at night, Kirishima managed to secure lodging, only to encounter an awkward hitch—the sole keeper of the martial art’s family legacy had been hospitalized due to old age. The other relatives had only learned a rudimentary level of self-defense, leaving none qualified to truly instruct.
Thus, the next day he journeyed to Tokyo, spending a few days with Yui and Tadayoshi before returning to Chiba.
"It was a worthwhile trip, but the ending was a shame," he remarked as he departed the station, drawing the curious eyes of passersby. His imposing size certainly didn’t hurt, nor did the fact that it had been less than a month since he had apprehended a Villain at Disneyland.
Even in the midst of the heatwave, Kirishima strolled home at a measured pace. Though he hadn’t been away long, the streets and the people exuded a strangely comforting familiarity—a nostalgia that belied the normally diverse faces of Japan.
"Um..."
A small group of girls, cautiously approaching the duffel-bag-wearing hero, began to speak.
Though struck by their unfamiliarity, Kirishima responded politely, "Yes? What can I do for you?"
The girls, seemingly around his age, listened intently. One timid girl hesitated before asking, "Aren’t you the guy who fought at Disneyland?"
"That’s me. How did you know?"
Kirishima admitted with a trace of bemusement. He had made headlines in a few online outlets after defeating a Villain when he was in middle school, but that notoriety was confined to a handful of internet news sites. The world was vast, and while stories abounded, it was usually the official Heroes on the front lines who commanded the spotlight.
"Eek! It’s really him! He’s even bigger and way more handsome in person!"
"No, seriously—how did you know it was you?"
Even as Kirishima confirmed their suspicions, the excited girl continued chattering, leaving him without a satisfactory answer. Finally, one of the less exuberant girls explained, "A local paper ran an article. They even conducted interviews and posted a video. You’re pretty famous around here—didn’t you hear?"
"So the media got involved again..."
Kirishima pressed a hand to his forehead. He had always sensed that the media brought nothing but trouble. Even if fame was inevitable for a Hero, he longed to remain an ordinary citizen, at least for a while. He wasn’t about to be pestered with attention as he prepared for his pro debut.
"Please sign for us! And could you take a picture with us?"
"Ah, yes. Of course," he replied with a smile, despite the inconvenience. After all, in his previous life as a sports star, he had learned well that public adoration was part and parcel of both celebrity athletes and Heroes alike. After all, one could not exist without their fans—nor could a Hero without the admiration of the people.
"Get lost!"
As he signed autographs and snapped photos one by one, a commotion erupted from farther away. Turning his head, he saw a tattooed man barreling through the crowd, shoving people aside. Though his face was rather ordinary, the myriad tattoos covering every visible inch of skin gave him a decidedly unsavory look.
As the man charged forward, seemingly growing larger and more menacing with every step, Kirishima weighed his options. He considered tripping the brute with a swift leg sweep when suddenly someone collided with the attacker from the side.
The man tumbled once, then sprang back to his feet and roared at the top of his lungs. In moments, the once-average built man had expanded to nearly match Kirishima’s own formidable stature. The tattoos on his body appeared to be melting away, dripping like wax, adding a grotesque quality to his transformation.
"Who the hell are you, bastard? You want to die?" the man bellowed.
"I’m Pro Hero Chipmunk. You’re under arrest for unauthorized use of your Quirk and pickpocketing!" came the retort, delivered by a figure with unmistakably squirrel-like ears and even a squirrel tail peeking above his hips. Despite his round, almost cute appearance, Chipmunk’s resolute expression lent his words a striking intensity.
"Cut the crap! Like hell you’re catching me!" the tattooed Villain shouted.
"Hmph. Give up those foolish hopes and submit quietly," Chipmunk replied coolly.
The Villain, enraged, roared and unleashed a flurry of wild punches. Chipmunk dodged effortlessly and then spat something from his puffed-up cheek. What emerged flew straight into the Villain’s knee.
The Villain groaned in pain, collapsing onto one knee.
"Ghk. You bastard..." he muttered.
"Then why resist? Stay still," Chipmunk ordered.
The Villain glared at the approaching hero, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as his body began to tremble—a trembling that soon escalated into convulsive spasms.
"Argh! You think I’m gonna get caught like this? I can’t be caught! Not by some guy like you!" he shrieked as he slowly rose to his feet. Though his height hadn’t changed, the muscles in his entire body swelled explosively, and those melting tattoos now cascaded away rapidly.
In a burst of speed that left Chipmunk reeling, the Villain slammed into him with several times his previous momentum. Unable to fend off the onslaught, Chipmunk was sent hurtling backward.
At the sight, Kirishima fought back the urge to whistle. If he were a football player, that would have been the perfect helmet tackle—even if this wasn’t a football field.
Chipmunk, sprawled on the ground and coughing up blood, struggled to rise. At a glance, it was clear he was in rough shape.
"You were hiding your strength," he managed to say.
"Aaaaargh!" came the guttural reply as the Villain roared, his body shaking violently. Then, he lunged toward the onlookers, forcing Chipmunk to rush to his defense.
Desperation drove Chipmunk forward; he managed to block the Villain from harming any civilians, but in doing so, he was struck again by a wild swing of the Villain’s arm. Whether driven by lost reason or raw fury, the Villain howled and pummeled Chipmunk relentlessly.
"Is he going to be alright?" one of the onlooking girls whispered.
"He looks like he’s in a ton of pain..." another murmured.
"But he’s a Hero—why is he just taking it?"
"I hope another Hero shows up soon," a third observer added.
Kirishima’s face darkened at the girls’ comments as he watched the scene unfold. Chipmunk was being ruthlessly beaten yet continued to strive to keep the Villain away from innocent bystanders. Still, the incredulity of the onlookers, witnessing such a brutal struggle up close, stirred a sense of disillusionment that hadn’t been there before.
Of course, these girls didn’t really understand fighting. They could hardly begin to fathom what a Hero thought when standing on the front lines or the price paid in clashes with Villains. In truth, Kirishima himself was no stranger to conflict. Born a predator who relished blood-soaked duels against worthy adversaries, he cared little for brawls fought with bystanders behind him.
Yet he was not one to back down from a fight. Even as he watched Chipmunk, battered and coughing blood, his persistence in holding off the Villain served as a testament to what a true Hero might endure when faced with formidable odds.
But his motivation was entirely different. While Kirishima, who fought for his own sake, might become an invincible force who never tasted defeat, he could never embody the role of a guardian who protected everyone. That was why he respected people like Chipmunk—individuals whose valor was rooted in selflessness, traits he knew he could never fully claim for himself.
"It’s dangerous—step back a little," Kirishima advised in a steady tone. Activating his [Hardening], he moved swiftly towards the nearly collapsing Chipmunk and intercepted the Villain’s descending fist.
"Huff, huff... Boy, it’s dangerous. Back off!"
Even then, Chipmunk’s voice from behind urged him to pull back, as if to remove him from the fray. In a calm, almost awed tone, Kirishima replied, "I’m fine. My Quirk’s solid—it won’t be broken by that level of attack. More importantly, Mr. Chipmunk?"
"What is it?"
Chipmunk gritted his teeth, struggling to answer through the haze of pain that clouded his consciousness.
"I’ll handle the defense for now, so why don’t you finish this? You still have enough fight left in you, right?"
"I do—but you’re way too reckless!"
"I’m telling you, I’m fine. Besides, could you grant me combat authorization? I’m just a regular middle schooler, and if I cause any more trouble, it’ll be a disaster. I returned home after such a long absence, and this homecoming is turning out to be quite dynamic," Chipmunk replied.
"What? You… Ah, you’re that kid," the Villain finally managed, as if recognizing Kirishima for who he was.
With his identity now unmistakably clear, Kirishima clicked his tongue softly. It wasn’t hard to recognize him—after all, his height made him unmistakable.
Disposing of the bitter sting of unwanted fame, Kirishima fixed the Villain with a steely glare and spoke in a low, measured voice, "I don’t know who you are, what circumstances you’re in, where you live, whether you have a family, or who you’re close to. Perhaps you’re someone precious to somebody. But you crossed the line—and you shouldn’t have."
Casually, he swatted away the wild attacks as if brushing off bothersome flies. Though he was seething with the urge to shatter the Villain’s head right then and there, he restrained himself; a full display of his power in public would be far too excessive. Besides, taking down another Villain so soon, without proper authorization, wouldn’t reflect well on him—it might even undermine the credit due to Chipmunk, who had held the villain at bay through a grueling, bloody struggle.
Had the situation been dire and the opponent truly formidable, Kirishima would not have hesitated to unleash his full might. But today, the Villain was weak—so weak that within the confines of authorized combat, he could not dare act rashly without permission.
Kirishima’s eyes burned coldly as he continued to scrutinize his foe.
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