Chapter Text
Ringing meets his ears, chronically aware of the soreness in his limbs that could only be described as pain. Not only did he vaguely remember where he was, the voice from earlier was still echoing.
‘’
“Allogene, listen carefully.” It had begun, a disembodied voice in his head. At first he froze and looked around- “You’re to be sent to the world over.” The strangely feminine voice continued, causing his head to clench like he was being torn inside.
“What? What nonsense is this..” The puppet had begun, clutching the side of his head with one hand.
“This is no sort of nonsense, child.” The impatient voice snapped, regretfully filling Wanderer’s mind with some distortion.
“Go to your archon, fulfill your purpose.”
‘ What the hell is this? No nonsense, they say?’ He thought, gritting his teeth together, and to his surprise was given an answer.
“Enough. Do not go against the words of Celestia.” It hissed, as if it could read his thoughts. Though, reasonably, it probably could.
‘’
Gradually recovering, he can make out the trees surrounding him. Was he still in Sumeru?
No, impossible. He had been transported not long after, only given time to gather a few bearings and inform Nahida. And in front of the Archon herself, he fell.
Wanderer didn't know if he actually fell but it certainly had felt like it. He had simply dropped from his body and it felt not like flying, but having the winds push down to guarantee a heavy and crushing impact. But then he was waking up, or perhaps opening his eyes, already on the floor without the bruising collision.
The puppet's head still felt fuzzy on the edges, ears ringing as he slowly sat up on his knees, glancing around.
His items were in a bag when he fell- it was convenient. The first thing he collected and put in his bag was a chess piece. It held no thrumming power or value at all, but it was painted by Kusanali herself.
‘’I thought you’d like something reminiscent of a Gnosis, after everything.’’ She had said, brush pausing from swiping around the piece. The Castle1, painted with swirling winds and gold, on the top- the eye of an electro. In a sense he had been a bit irritated, though she had no regrets on the matter. The day before he began at the Akademiya, she gave the piece with a smile he couldn't tear away from.
‘’Keep it safe, alright?’’ Nahida- Lord Kusanali, chuckled, patting his hands as they closed and enveloped the piece.
He paused in his memories.
“Tsk,” Wanderer mumbled, putting the piece in the strap bag and leaving the smaller things (like paper he forgot to remove) on the floor, dusting himself.
Getting lost in his mind was the last thing he needed right now. Having so many would only lead to distractions, which he couldn't afford until he was safe and away from.. Well, wherever he was.
Standing up once he was steady enough, Wanderer glanced around. Trees, shrubs and a path. Following the man-made path, it led to a wide clearing with some wooden tables and a metal.. contraption2.. was what he could describe it as. Kids roamed on it, joy written across their faces.
Ignoring that with a small sense of disgust, he turned with the slinged bag twirling with him. Taking a moment to analyze further around, he noticed a sign. Though it was written in Inazuman, it consisted of odd words.
Musutafu Central Park
“Musutafu? What in the Archons name is that?” He wondered, snorting and turning onto what looked like a pavement road3- though the center wasn't concrete but black rock with yellow stripes down the middle. Seeing the sun cast a shadow he could gather it was evening, walking through the streets with a cautious look around.
Celestia, this wasn't going to be easy was it?
…
Wanderer was left, well, wandering the streets of the city- Musutafu was it? He had spotted people who looked deftly out of the ordinary- people with bright colored skin, or physical differences. Though hybrids in Teyvat weren't uncommon, this was a whole new level. No one even batted an eye, either. They acted like humans, and seemed similar to them too.
Before long, the sun dipped and he was left drifting.
So in this world, it doesn't seem to have visions. something must cause these mutations though..
In his thoughts, he had been walking across the street when a loud honk caught in his ears. Looking up with a carefully blank look, seeing two lights hurtling towards him, metal clanking and wheels screeching loudly. It hurt his ears mostly, he was about to disregard the entire ‘hiding his vision’ and launch upwards but was suddenly hooked around the torso and flung out of the road. The large metal contraption kept going, passing the now sitting puppet.
The boy then looked up, noticing the fabric around him that slowly sunk away. Following the trail of a scarf to look up at a man with shaggy black hair. Like his hair, his outfit was pitch black other than that scarf thing- No alarm bells dispelled in his gut but still he warily eyed the man as he stood.
“Kid, are you alright?” The man asked as soon as he was up, reaching forward. Wanderer quickly swatted his hand though-
“I'm alright. Thank you for.. That.” Wanderer replied airily, though observing the man. It seemed he was concerned( and mildly annoyed), which twisted something in his gut. What caught his interest was his words, the slight accent to his Inazuman. “Now then, ill be on my-”
He was cut off when the man sighed, loudly (and rudely in his opinion).
“Listen kid, I can't let you wander the streets at night. Especially after you almost just got hit by a car.” The ravenette responded, rubbing his temples as if Wanderer was just another nuisance. A Car, hm? What a strange thing.
“Where are your parents?”
That's new. He surely looked young (cursed doll proportions, damn you!) but being asked for his guardians?
“I assure you I'm old enough to be alone.” Wanderer scoffed with distaste, arms crossing stubbornly. The man didn't waver, copying the pose.
“Where do you live? I can escort you.”
This is when Wanderer chose to curse every god in his mind.
With a glance around and a quiet intake of breath, the man only seemed to grow further disappointed. “Are you homeless?” He asked, to which Wanderer blinked and mulled it over.
“I go where I like.”
“With or without a roof over your head?”
“..Both.”
“You're homeless.”
“What's it to you?” He grumbled, internally shooting back that the man looks homeless compared to him, this shaggy little-
“Damn it.” The hero replied instead, looking away before pulling out a glowing rectangle.
The puppet watched in some more feigned disinterest, really just observing the little box because wow, that's intricate.
“Okay kid, I'm taking you to the station.”
Wanderer was roped into walking alongside this man towards a ‘police station’. Like Fontaine with its Gardes, he read a lot about the justice systems.. The buildings and everything around reminded him so much of Inazuma without its traditional charm. It was off-putting and welcoming, which wasn't the greatest combination.
Luckily, the man, who introduced himself as Eraserhead, a pro hero (Which Wanderer simply nodded because, what?), did not indulge in idle talk as they walked the pavement. Looking up at the stars, he vaguely made out Peregrinus in the stars like an image behind his eyes.
“Erasurehead-” Wanderer began, with a small grimace at the peculiar name- “why are we going to the station again?” He asked with a punctuating sigh, looking to the side profile of the hero.
“You're without guardians and nearly died.” Was the only feedback he got. Fine then, don't explain. He rolled his eyes and snorted, though didn't continue the conversation as they rounded to a rather small, brick building. Archons, these buildings are all over but will never get over the disdain.
The automatic doors ( amazed Wanderer as he entered) opened and he took slow steps behind Erasurehead to the lobby. It was empty, which was expected for this time of night, aside from a receptionist who seemed half asleep.
“Miss, can I get a paging with Detective Tsukauchi?” The hero asked, startling the woman. “Ah- Yes, of course Erasurehead!” She fumbled, typing quickly on the.. Was the slab in front of her glowing?
“Who is that?” Wanderer settles on asking instead, arms folded as Erasurehead glances over.
“A detective. Don't worry, we just need his quirk to help.” He responded dryly, looking back at the receptionist and relapsing in conversation with her.
Right, quirk.
They still have those?
Wanderer sat in a plush armchair near the window, recounting his events. So far, he still didn't know why he was on.. Earth.
There was no doubt about it. He hadn't been created when Teyvat separated from Earth, but with enough knowledge, anyone could tell this was obviously the missing plane.
The Era of quirks greatly disrupted the connection of Earth and Teyvat. The islands of Teyvat were some of the largest governed by Gods, nations split. Earth had its beliefs, but no concrete God that could save them physically. To that, many grew envious of Tevyat's power; and so, when the quirk era began, rebellion formed to slowly corrupt Earth.
The Archons, nor the Shades, would stand for that. With their combined power, Teyvat vanished overnight.
Some say the civilization retreated, but Teyvatians knew they were simply shielded nearly a world away.
Recalling this, he wondered what would come to him if anyone here found out about his origin from Teyvat.
If he did this right, he wouldn't even be here long enough for that.
The hero’s greeting took Wanderer from his thoughts; a tall man with short, black hair and somewhat rectangular black eyes wearing some tan coat and matching hat stood shaking hands with Erasurehead.
“Come on kid, we're just gonna ask some questions.” Erasurehead beckoned, before following the man. Slightly ominous and the ‘questions’ made Wanderer think this was more interrogation.
Being the absolutely compliant guy he was, (and contemplating how fast he could break out) Wanderer followed with no comment, until they reached a room. Inside it, there was a table, two chairs and one light. The room itself was barren and immediately put the puppet on edge.
Yep, an interrogation, he was sure. Taking a moment as the detective sat in one chair, he took a seat in the one across from him, hesitantly. Erasurehead stood nearby, watching closely.
“Hey kid. My name is Naomasa Tsukauchi, and legally I've got to let you know that I’ve got a truth quirk.” The detective began, speaking somewhat softly. He scoffed, but nodded. “Let's start simple. What's your name?” How useful, giving out information.
Ah the controversies.
“I’ve had many names, call me whatever you’d like, it's all water under the bridge for me now.” Wanderer waved his hand dismissively, leaning back in his chair with folded arms. The detective didn't seem to take this answer, however.
“Can I get your given name?” Tsukauchi sighed, hands neatly clasped in front of him on the table. Wanderer simply raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been given a name. He gave himself a name. He’d been called names. But they weren't exactly his.
Kunikuzushi was one. But was it smart to give a binding name? Perhaps it was customary to have two names, like most Inazumans had.
“...Kyosuke.,” Wanderer- no, Kunikuzushi responded after a while. The detective nodded faintly, accepting the name.
“And surname?”
What insistence, I suppose this is similar to the Inazuman Tradition. What is my sur-...
By the Shogun, it would be Raiden. No, no way in Celestia’s name.
“..Kusanali..” He nearly grimaced.
“Very well then, le-” Wanderer raised a hand to cut him off once the man looked up from the file he wrote- presumably Kunikuzushi’s name- to interrupt.
“Refer to me as Kyosuke.” He commented, Tsukauchi simply nodded though, which made Kuni simply narrow his eyes watching the pen move again.
“Very well Kyosuke. How old are you?” The detective continued lacing his hands together.
Lord Kusanali save him, Archons, Even Barbatos would help. What? He has no idea what he needs to be in order to complete his goal.
What is a 500 year old to say? If the goal was to help the societ-..
- 16. Something whispered in his ear, causing him to wince mentally. It didn't sound like that other voice did- nor did it hurt his head. It was soothing and made him feel his visions power thrum in him for half a second.
“I’m 16.” He answered, trying his best to seem truthful. No one could know the exact truth. Hopefully.
“Unclear. Again, How old are you?”
“16.”
They split into silence for a moment before the detective begrudgingly scrawled the number on the file.
“And do you have a home?” Tsukauchi asked, a bit gentler than he had before, like one would when speaking to a child. Kuni felt the urge to scoff again, but suppressed it with a shake of his head. Realizing the man needed a verbal answer, “No.” He corrected, eyes flicking to Erasurehead in the corner. The man hadn't moved an inch, still impassive.
Tsukauchi let out a huff from his nose, drawing Kunikuzushi’s attention back. The man had pulled some new papers on the desk, looking one over.
“There seems to be no trace of you, no birth certificate, information, doctor visits- nothing.” The detective pondered aloud, cupping his chin.
“Aizawa, next chance you get, can you ask Nedzu about this?”
Who is Aizawa? I thought his name was Erasurehead? Ah, the Inazuman name custom. A family name and given name. So Erasurehead was his.. family name?- how foolish of this detective to let the name slip.
Neither of them looked like they cared about the name drop.
Not useful information, then.
“So Kyosuke, What's your quirk?” Tsukauchi hummed, smiling again. It was forced, but small enough to look unthreatening. Kunikuzushi tilted his head.
“Peregrinus.” He decided, though it didn't seem to explain much to the men.
“And that is..?” Tsukauchi inquired after Kunikuzushi didn't elaborate any further.
The puppet tapping a finger on his leg, thinking. “..An-hm. Wind power.” He replied, tilting his head slightly. This was certainly odd- they weren't prying for information, not like Kuni was withdrawing it.
“Wind? Alright, great. Do you remember anything from where you came from?”
How many lies can I get away with?
He crossed his legs, humming as if in thought. “I don't recall much. I woke up in Central Park.”
“I think that'll be all for now, Kyosuke.” Erasurehead (Aizawa?) called, opening the door from where he stood by it. Kunikuzushi briefly met the Detective's eyes before getting up and nodding.
“Can I leave now?” He asked, pausing by the door as Aizawa walked to the table where Tsukauchi sat.
“Wait in the lobby a minute,” The hero huffed, sitting down and waving Kuni off.
Before he leaves, he catches a mumble of “lots of lies”. Rolling his eyes, he closes the door behind him and walks to the lobby. Noticing the woman from earlier dozed off by her glowing device, he sat in the armchair in the corner for a full-room view.
He looked at his vision, noticing its glow was weak. His eyebrows furrowed together in thought, before he looks at his hand and slowly summons a small ball of swirling wind.
Well, visions still work. Maybe it was because he was so far from Teyvat? Or the Gnosis, seeing Earth was a world away.
Closing his fist, the air vanished and he let his vision drop against the fabric scarf over his left side.
What could they be talking about? Ah, if only he had an anemo wielder that could bring information by the winds. He took his time looking into his bag, making sure he hadn't lost anything.
Looking up when he heard the sound of a door opening down the hall he had been in earlier. It was most likely the hero and detective. When the two reappeared and spotted him, Aizawa put his hands in his pockets. Kunikuzushi made no move to get up to walk towards them- sensing that, the duo walked over to his seat and sat in the waiting chairs across from him.
“Kyosuke, since we have no record of any guardians, you're going to need to be taken in. Orphanages are available but..” Tsukauchi began carefully, leaning his elbows on his knees. Kuni raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.
“ Erasurehead here volunteered to help you out.” Now that was more surprising. The hero looked tired and done, Kuni wouldn't have guessed the man willingly volunteered to take someone in. “If you agree, we can help you.”
Ah, was this your plan?
Challenge- “Accepted.”
____
Kage rewinded the footage once more, watching as the wind simply vanished from the boy's hand. Pulling up another tab, she searched every accessible file for him- and found nothing. Only the files submitted the same day the footage was caught on the Police Stations Security camera.
Kusanali [Kyosuke]
Age: 16(?)
Quirk: Pir Peregrinus
Analysis: Wind use/power
Evaluation: Found at 21:04 PM near Sakihamete Str. saved from a near car accident, possible amnesia. Unable to recall events before waking up in Central Park.
Evaluation taken by: Tsukauchi Naomasa at 10 / 28 / 2234(4)
History: None
Medical History: None
That's all there was on this ‘Kyosuke’ boy. She smacked her hand palm first on the desk, startling a coworker working on their computer the next desk over.
“Tsukiyo! Get me the Human Database!” Kage called, watching him nod from across the room and swiftly exit down the hall.
She sighed, putting his face in his hands.
People don't just appear.
He had to exist, somewhere.
Kusanali Kyosuke..
===
Kunikuzushi sneezed twice5, rubbing his nose disdainfully. It wasn't often his body committed to unrelated human gestures, especially things like sneezing or coughing unprovoked.
It was already morning- Aizawa glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.
The puppet had stayed in the Aizawa household- and it was arranged for it to be that way as long as necessary. Since they got to the apartment so late, they had resolved to put Kunikuzushi in the guest room and talk it over in the morning. Kuni did not need sleep; but he thought better to humor the hero and sat at the dining table when he saw an adequate time to ‘wake up’
How was he supposed to know people don't usually wake up at 5 AM without reason?
“So, Kyosuke.” Aizawa sighed, putting his mug of coffee on the table and sat across from the Kyosuke in question. “Firstly, you need plausible education years. Now that you're in my care, we can talk about attending schools.”
“I have an education. I’ve been a representative for Vahumana-” He began deftly, eyebrow twitching when he cut himself off. The Akademiya’s education didn't necessarily count here, did it?
“Nevermind. What school do I need to attend to be able to use my.. quirk?”
He was then questioned about what he knows about hero society (safe to say, close to none.)
By the time Aizawa was done interrogating him, disregarding the actual question, a man with blonde (or was it yellow?) hair yawned, entering the dining room and making a beeline for the kitchen with quite a large- and audible- yawn.
“Morning Hizashi.” Aizawa greeted without looking up from massaging his temple, elbow leaning on the dining table. The blond- Hizashi- seemed comfortable, so it was most likely he lived here with Aizawa. Though, Kuni didn't see him yesterday. Maybe he was already asleep.
With another large yawn (that made Kunikuzushi want to seal his mouth shut), the man smiled and sighed breezily.
“Morning Shota! Who's this little listener?” Hizashi inquired loudly despite being tired, to which Kuni hoped he wasnt louder when more attentive. The man, now holding a mug matching Aizawa’s, walked and sat at the table, nursing his cup with a large smile.
“This is Kyosuke. I was hoping to talk to you about this privately, but it's no use. I'm taking him in after circumstances, I'll fill you in later.” Aizawa hummed, ignoring how Kuni’s eyes narrowed and watched their interaction with crossed arms.
“Kyosuke here needs to get into schooling, so I was thinking he could try for UA’s entrance exam.” Aizawa began, interrupted by Hizashi's cheer, pumping a fist in the air.
“Another listener you're taking under your wing, huh? I knew you were a softie!” Hizashi exclaimed, reaching out to pat Aizawa's back, but reeled his hand in when Aizawa shot him an offended glare.
“Another?” Kunikuzushi tilted his head, realizing he asked aloud when the two turned their heads- Hizashi more owlishly as if he just revealed the nation’s secrets. To that, Aizawa sighed deeply.
“Yes, another. I’m training another problem child for the exam aswell.”
So this man is a mentor? Hopefully a good one. This ‘UA’ they speak of seems important. Kuni hummed, cupping his chin.
“Is UA hard to enter?” Kuni swapped topics, looking up and meeting Aizawa's steely gaze instead of Hizashis (the man was sipping from his mug obnoxiously loud).
“It's a prestigious school. Best Hero Academy in Japan, so I’d say it's a struggle.” Well, Kunikuzushi definitely respected Aizawa for not sugar-coating it, though it seemed Hizashi begged to differ based on the cry he let out, nearly spitting his drink out.
“SHOTA! YOU CAN'T DROP THAT KIND OF EXPLANATION!" Hizashi exclaimed, waving his hands over his forgotten mug.
“Dont worry kid! It's hard but I'm sure you can do this, I believe in you!” Hizashi encouraged, oblivious (or clueless) to Kunikuzushi's shrinking from the near-screaming bout. Aizawa however reached out to lay a hand on Hizashi's shoulder, taking over.
“I meant it. The school is truly hard. We should try signing up for multiple schools in case you don't pass the one you want.” The more reasonable hero reminded.
Kuni tapped his leg, scrunching the fabric of his pants to think. He had been given a change of clothes, thought kept his old clothes on his bed and only changed to keep clean. The hat (which he was reluctant to depart) sat on his bed too, after Aizawa told him to put it away when seeing the boy sit at the table at ungodly hours of the morning, pajamas on and a hat that was ridiculous with the outfit.
After a moment of thought, Kunikuzushi looked up and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.
“No, just sign for UA’s exam. I'm certain I can pass.”
Aizawa and Hizashi exchanged a look. Some could call that kind of confidence callous but with the exam this boy was going for, it was surely foolish. Though, who were they to deny the message? Aizawa simply noted to secretly enroll in exams for other hero schools in case UA didn't work out.
===
Something was up with this kid. First he gets up at the asscrack of dawn, sits at the dinner table and nearly scares the shit out of him. Aizawa hadn't even had coffee and was faced with.. That.
The boy didn't eat breakfast; he didn't bat an eye when Aizawa personally began feeding him information about hero society, only did he react when he was annoyed (read: when Hizashi entered the frame).
God, why Aizawa of all people in this damned world?!
___
Six months. Aizawa told him he had six months to prepare for entrance exams. The louder hero had fretted over his lack of experience compared to kids who looked towards this goal since they were young. Kuni brushed it off, glaring at the man when he tried to empathize.
It had been one month since he entered the Aizawa household. Or rather Aizawa, loud blonde and cats.
He couldn't say he wasn't fond- the man was respectable, and Hizashi was an okay person when being quiet. The two made him welcome, though sometimes overlooked and treated him like a poor rescued child.
So, when they told him there was a written part of the exam, (because of course there was,) he could only sigh internally and spite the world externally. Not the other way around. He also noticed how Aizawa noted the words Kunikuzushi used. It sounded like simple Teyvatian phrases to him, though he supposed to people on Earth like Aizawa, it would seem odd to spit out ‘Oh my Archons’ in replacement to God. Which was foolish- Archons were Gods, not a single God. He’d have to read up on that.
Back to the written exam shit-
No, Kunikuzushi was dumbly stuck on studying. Aizawa had given him a few books to go over, as did Hizashi. They were somewhat similar to what he learned in Akademiya, except either too complicated or unheard of.
Hero laws? Why do you need laws for people to save you?! He groaned, slamming the book shut loudly and possibly much more aggressive than necessary.
“EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?” Hizashi called from presumably the kitchen, muffled from the distance. Damn these thin walls.
Kuni did not grace them with an answer; though they probably figured by now he was not going to yell his wellbeing across the house. (The idea was reinforced when he almost tripped over a cat and knocked over some stuff, and had the two rush to find him petting the cat with a fallen pot on the floor.)
Poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, he skimmed the page again. He knew his Inazuman was somewhat odd compared to this language- (Japanese, his mind supplied faintly)- and he ended up going over things like math instead.
He was determined to say the least. Kunikuzushi had six months to master this world’s academics, and since he was already fairly confident in his physical ability, he passed up many opportunities Aizawa offered.
Now, was an exception. Someone knocked on his door, (the guest room for now) and opened it a moment after without waiting for a response. It did annoy him but he snapped his mouth shut as Aizawa peered in, nodding in greeting.
“Kyosuke, come out to the training ground. Shinsou is here today.” The hero told- no, more of an order to a child- to him with a small jerk of his hand before disappearing behind the half open door. So much of a warning that is. He was dressed casually so he quickly put a pair of shoes on, following the man's footsteps to the training area. Kunikuzushi found Aizawa to be a respectable man. Not that Hizashi simply wasn't.. He was just an interesting individual.
The training area was pretty much a gym in the basement floor of the apartment complex (the complex only housed heroes that preferred apartments over large houses) which simply irked Kunikuzushi. Why train in such a confined space when the open world offers far more dynamic challenges? Then again, he supposed this world relied heavily on controlling one's abilities, not unleashing them indiscriminately. A sigh escaped him, unheard.
He’d much rather take the stairs instead of the room in the walls that carried people around the floors. (an ela-valator?)
Entering the gym, it was simple to say an eyesore. It was a sterile, brightly lit room, padded walls, and a thick, dark mat covering the floor. Aizawa was already there, leaning against a wall, arms crossed, his capture weapon coiled loosely around his neck. Beside him stood a boy, perhaps a year younger than Kunikuzushi’s perceived age, with disheveled purple hair and tired-looking eyes. This must be the ‘other problem child’. He also had a capture weapon, one Aizawa told him about since Kunikuzushi got curious when he remembered the fabric that had ‘saved’ him.
“Kyosuke,” Aizawa’s voice was flat, acknowledging his presence. “This is Hitoshi Shinsou. Shinsou, this is Kyosuke.”
The purple haired boy- Shinsou- blinked a few times, pulling the scarf away from his mouth.
“No last name? Or is Kyosuke the last name?” He asked, tilting his head with observing eyes. He hated observers. The smart ones always pried too far.
“Just Kyosuke.” The boy seemed… unremarkable. No flashy attire, no obvious signs of a powerful Quirk. He had a slight slouch, and his hands were shoved into his pockets. Shinsou, in turn, hummed without further chat, his eyes narrowed slightly, perhaps trying to decipher Kunikuzushi.
“We’re going to run a few drills,” Aizawa continued, pushing off the wall. “Start stretching while I explain.”
Damn it, he should've worn active wear.
“Shinsou, you’ll start with a few rounds of basic combat against Kyosuke. Kyosuke, restrict your Quirk for this first round. Focus on hand-to-hand combat and evasion. I want to see your fundamentals.”
Kunikuzushi’s eyebrow twitched. Restrict his ‘Quirk’? His quirk could be restricted but not in the way these people understood it. He might as well discard the Vision’s use. Kunikuzushi felt the Anemo Vision thrum in his chest- the compartment that was designed to hold a gnosis. He could easily conjure miniature gales or shift his body with the grace of wind, but he merely nodded again, a flicker of irritation in his eyes that Aizawa caught.
“Unless you have a problem with that, Kyosuke?” Aizawa’s tone was challenging.
“No that's alright. Does he not have a physical ability?” Kuni regarded the boy, with no outward qualities other than his tired posture and purple hair (which he found out was supposed to be normal despite being much brighter than the types of purple in Teyvat).
“No, it's mental.” Shinsou stepped forward, taking a stance, though he seemed somewhat hesitant. “Uh, what exactly is your Quirk, Kyosuke?” he asked, his voice low, almost a mumble.
Mental? Absolutely not. Kunikuzushi’s eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected the question so directly. He didn't offer a sharp comeback, but his glare was enough. “Irrelevant, we're not using v-’quirks’ anyways.” The word tested his tongue, that was for sure.
The boy looked shocked. Like deer-in-headlights shocked. Kuni knew he was probably intimidating when irritated, but he didn't expect the boy to freeze. Not that he felt guilty- Shinsou quickly recovered.
Aizawa stepped between them, seemingly unfazed by the small interaction. “Alright, the rules are simple. One on one. No quirks, no outward forces. Immobilize them for three counts or get them off the mat.” The hero explained, gesturing to the circle mat nearby, large enough to make a small clearing.
The two stood across from each other. It seemed Shinsou was about to say something, but Aizawa clapped once and Kunikuzushi dashed.
But Shinsou was surprisingly quick despite his earlier demeanor. He threw a standard jab, aiming for Kunikuzushi’s face. Kunikuzushi, however, was faster. He swayed, the punch moving past his ear, and instinctively his hand shot out, not to strike, but to grab Shinsou’s wrist. His grip was precise. He used Shinsou’s forward momentum against him, twisting his arm and pushing him off balance.
The other was stunned, not expecting something so fluid. But it seemed he had some survival instinct, because he rolled quickly after losing balance, using that same momentum to strike at Kunikuzushi's feet. The puppet felt the corners of his lips upturn slightly in the beginning of a smirk.
So, he used his flexibility instead of strength. Hopping off one foot and back, he waited until the other was righted fully to dart forward. Last second as Shinsou prepared to defend, Kuni changed direction to the side, just out of the way and kicked off the mat to elbow the boy’s side, blocking the too slow punch and jumping back to allow Shinsou a move.
Predictably, the boy attempted a kick this time, aiming for Kunikuzushi’s knee. Kunikuzushi pivoted, a foot coming up to block the kick with a soft thud. He briefly considered using a breath of wind to unbalance Shinsou, pass it off as a ‘natural gust’, but decided against it. He could win this hand-to-hand. He could win this with his eyes closed. This was child’s play. (He ignored the thrill of a fight and the small sweat down his back. It had been a while.)
He saw an opening. Shinsou was off-balance, his guard slightly open as he recovered from the blocked kick. Kunikuzushi darted forward, his movement so swift it looked like teleportation. He closed the distance, his hand snapping out to lightly tap Shinsou’s solar plexus.
The tap was gentle, but the speed behind it was enough to make Shinsou gasp and stumble backward, collapsing onto the mat. He took that to grab Shinsou's outstretched arm that tried to steady himself, pushing the arm down to trap the other.
Kneeling over him, he looked up blandly to the hero watching. “Three counts. I win.”
Aizawa simply hummed approvingly, giving the signal to help Shinsou up. Kuni let go of the other, stepping away and allowing him to get up himself. Shinsou seemed disappointed to lose, but Kunikuzushi could practically smell the admiration.
Gross. Do not ask me questions.. He begged the gods, sighing internally when Aizawa spoke again.
Aizawa cleared his throat. “Alright, that’s one point to Kyosuke. Shinsou, try to anticipate his movements. Kyosuke’s physical prowess is far beyond what you might expect from someone his age. His reflexes are… abnormal.” Aizawa’s eyes flickered to Kunikuzushi, observing him closely. He’d seen the subtle shift, the unnatural way Kyosuke moved, almost like he wasn't bound by typical human anatomy. It was fascinating, at least.
Shinsou pushed himself up, rubbing his chest. He looked at Kunikuzushi with renewed caution, a spark of determination in his tired eyes. “Alright. Again?”
“Again,” Aizawa affirmed. “This time, Shinsou, you can use your Quirk.”
“And I can't?" Kunikuzushi guessed, though he knew fully well why. If the boy had a mental quirk, he needed to get used to physical combat before apprehending quirks. Superpowers, essentially.
He had already fallen into a loose combat pose, watching Shinsou do the same when Aizawa sighed as an answer. Then he clapped. Before Kunikuzushi could dash, Shinsou stood up straight.
“Right,” Shinsou said, his voice a little clearer now. “Hey, Kyosuke. What’s your favorite color?”
Kunikuzushi paused. He had no favorite color. He had no favorite anything. Such trivialities were beneath him. He simply stared at Shinsou, his silence stretching.
Shinsou waited. And waited. Aizawa watched them both, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.
“Kyosuke?” Aizawa prompted.
Kunikuzushi finally blinked. Just a blank stare, and then a simple, blunt truth that wasn’t meant to be insulting, but certainly came off that way. “I don't have a favorite color. That is an absurd question.”
It's clear Kunikuzushi was missing something, because Shinsou's shoulders only sagged. “Oo-kaay.. Then what do you do in your freetime?”
He mulled it over. The books he was given? Or perhaps those trips he took with Nahida back in Teyvat. How trivial.
“I study in my-” He cut himself off, eyebrows knitting together furiously. Something was there. His brain tickled and for a moment he felt himself slip. Catching his consciousness, he dashed forward and grabbed Shinsou's shirt, spinning the other to disorientation.
“What was that? What did you do?” Kunikuzushi demanded, his grip on Shinsou’s shirt tightening. The purple-haired boy was disoriented, swaying slightly, his eyes wide with surprise, especially after Kunikuzushi had seemed utterly unaffected moments before.
Aizawa was already moving, his captured weapon unfurling just enough to create a barrier between the two boys. “Kyosuke, release him.” He called, walking into the circle.
Kunikuzushi’s eyes, usually bland, were alight with a fierce, almost feral confusion. He glared at Aizawa, then back at Shinsou, the very air around him seeming to crackle with his displeasure. The thing in his mind. Like he was losing himself, him, a thing forged by God, and to a mental trick. The thought infuriated him.
“I asked what you did,” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous, ignoring Aizawa for a moment. He finally loosened his grip on Shinsou’s shirt, allowing the boy to stumble back.
Shinsou, catching his balance, rubbed his neck nervously. “My… my Quirk. Brainwashing,” he mumbled, sounding a little intimidated. “If you answer a direct question, I can… control you.” He glanced nervously at Aizawa, then back at Kunikuzushi, who was still staring at him as if he’d just grown a second head.
The momentary lapse, the sense of being forced, infuriated him beyond measure.
Shinsou seemed overall uncomfortable. He couldn't blame the kid. He spoke of it like a fearsome quirk, after all. Aizawa sighed for the hundredth time in two minutes, running a hand through his hair.
“This is a waste of time,” he muttered, but he returned to the center of the mat, his stance coiled and ready. He wouldn’t be caught off guard again. He would not allow it.
Shinsou took his position again, looking a little more confident this time, but still wary. He knew now that Kunikuzushi wasn't just fast; he was something else entirely.
Aizawa clapped again. “Round two. Begin.”
Shinsou didn’t hesitate this time. “Hey, Kyosuke,” he called out, his voice clear. “What’s your opinion on hero society?”
Kunikuzushi’s eyes narrowed instantly. He felt the familiar, unpleasant flicker at the edge of his consciousness, the subtle tug. He wouldn't speak. He wouldn't even think of an answer. Instead, his body moved.
This time, he simply shifted his weight, rotating his torso and taking a half-step back, before charging and engaging in a fight. If the quirk activated verbally, he would just restrain himself from talking.
Kunikuzushi allowed himself a small, private sense of satisfaction. Tickle that, you pathetic human. He still found the entire situation beneath him, but at least he wouldn't be caught by such a tactic again.
Hooking his arm around Shinsou’s neck, the boy tried to quickly adapt to flip but Kuni rolled them on the floor, holding him in a lock.
Aizawa, from the sidelines, nodded in begrudging approval. “Point to Kyosuke,” he announced, the capture weapon still coiled at his neck, but ready. “Shinsou, you need to be faster. And Kyosuke, while effective, that’s not how we typically handle mental Quirks. We don’t want to cause unnecessary harm. The goal is to immobilize. Not engage in a full physical takedown every time someone tries to talk to you.”
Kunikuzushi released Shinsou with a dismissive push. “It worked, didn’t it?” he retorted, his voice flat. He saw no reason to complicate matters. The objective was to not be controlled, and he had achieved it.
Shinsou himself seemed disdainful at the solution but dusted himself anyway.
“Kyosuke, you're seriously fast. It's almost artificial,” Shinsou complimented quietly, reaching a hand out to, presumably, end the spars with a handshake.
Kunikuzushi remained silent, his expression unreadable. Artificial? A crude observation, yet not entirely inaccurate. He had been ‘perfected’ in a sense, a puppet designed for a purpose. But the thought of his origins, the gnawing emptiness of his past, flashed through him. Buer wouldn't approve of his self indulging. So he pushed it down.
Taking the boy's hand in a firm shake, he let go just as quickly as it was accepted.
Then, they were caught off guard. Aizawa clapped. “Begin!”
Shinsou immediately adopted a casual pose, hands in his pockets. “Hey, Kyosuke,” he called out, his voice calm, almost conversational. “Did Aizawa-sensei tell you what we’re having for lunch?”
Kunikuzushi didn’t even twitch. He didn’t care about lunch. He didn’t have to eat. His gaze remained fixed on Shinsou, calculating. The question was a blatant trap, but he recognized the subtlety. It was an indirect question, one that required a simple affirmative or negative, disguising the trigger. He took a single, silent step to the side.
Shinsou tried again, shifting on his feet. “You know, I heard that some of the UA faculty eat at that new soba place. Have you ever tried soba, Kyosuke?”
He wrinkled his nose, beginning a circling motion with light steps. “Kyosuke, you’re not allowed to ignore me!” Shinsou challenged, trying to provoke a response, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “Isn’t that rude?”
This was a classic bait, aimed at his ego. It almost worked. Kunikuzushi felt a familiar surge of indignant anger, the remnants of the Balladeer’s pride. He was not rude; he was simply above such trivialities. The retort formed on his tongue, sharp and cutting, but he caught it, clamping his mouth shut. He merely sped up his circling, closing the trap.
Kunikuzushi merely scoffed, though internally he seethed. To be so easily provoked. This body, these emotions… they are a weakness. He hated the feeling, the loss of control, even if it was only within his own mind.
“Alright, Shinsou,” Aizawa said, rubbing his chin. “You’re thinking. That’s good. But Kyosuke’s learning too quickly. We need to introduce a variable. Kyosuke, while avoiding direct answers, you are now allowed to make non-verbal sounds or gestures only. Shinsou, you need to create a scenario where Kyosuke must react verbally or be caught.”
Shinsou looked puzzled. “How do I do that, sensei?”
“Think,” Aizawa challenged. “Villains don’t always just ask questions. Sometimes they threaten. Sometimes they make demands. Sometimes they try to trick you into a response.” He looked at Kunikuzushi. “And Kyosuke, remember, in a real fight, silence can be a weakness. Sometimes, you need to communicate, even under duress.”
Kunikuzushi felt a grudging acceptance. This was more like it. A true challenge. A mental puzzle superimposed on physical combat. He returned to the mat, his focus sharpening.
Aizawa clapped once more. “Round Three. Begin.”
Shinsou started pacing, his eyes darting around. He wouldn’t ask a question. He had to be smarter. He cleared his throat. “Alright, Kyosuke. Hear me out. If you don’t tell me your full name right now, I’m going to reveal all of Aizawa-sensei’s embarrassing secrets to the entire school.”
Kunikuzushi froze. Not because of the threat, which was absurd, but because of the structure of the demand. It wasn't a question, but a condition for an action.
Clever.
“And what would that be?” He asked back, falling into a combative pose. The boy’s eyes sharpened and he began to speak. Cut off by Kunikuzushi, who dashed forward, leveraging his lowered guard, not to attack directly, but to distract. He moved so fast that Shinsou flinched back, instinctively raising his hands. Kunikuzushi aimed a feint at Shinsou’s chest, then spun on his heel, coming up behind him, aiming for a swift, non-damaging bind.
Another win.
A long beat of silence, then Kuni released Shinsou who got up, dusting himself off. He could feel the boy was disappointed, but he simply looked at Aizawa.
“..Good job. That's all for now. Shinsou, go warm up some more.” Aizawa waved, watching Shinsou find his way to a corner with a bag and water.
“So Kyosuke, where did you learn all this?” The hero began as Kuni approached, arms crossed and standing in front of the man.
“I’ve… always been observant,” Kunikuzushi finally said, the words carefully chosen, some vagueness coating them. He maintained eye contact with Aizawa, daring the hero to find a crack in his facade. “I pick things up quickly.”
Aizawa’s eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in consideration. “Observant, yes. Quick to adapt, undoubtedly. But when Shinsou mentioned your speed, your precision- that’s not something you just ‘pick up’ from watching videos, Kyosuke. That kind of work requires focused training, perhaps even a specialized environment.”
The hero stepped closer, forcing Kunikuzushi to re-evaluate his stance, though he didn't physically react (He might've glared a bit harder). Aizawa’s presence, though not threatening, was definitely the kind of questioning a father would to a son up to no good. This man would not be easily fooled, what a nuisance.
“Specialized environment?” Kunikuzushi scoffed, a sound of disdain. “I spent my years.. Moving around.” He almost said wandering, but caught himself.
Wanderer. Constantly threatening to slip from his tongue. He wasn't that- at best he was ‘Hat guy’. (The thought made him frown.)
Using the name Traveler had given him, it felt wrong. But these heroes wouldn't accept Wanderer as a name, so if the Traveler could conjure up a name for him, this was the only time to use it.
“From place to place. One picks up various skills out of necessity.” He allowed a hint of boredom to seep into his voice, hoping to convey that the subject was tiresome.
It didn't work.
“Necessity, you say?” Aizawa countered, his gaze unwavering. “Necessity for what? Survival? Combat? Your file is… remarkably thin, Kyosuke. Almost nonexistent, in fact. You appeared out of nowhere, with no verifiable history Yet your combat prowess is far beyond that of a typical civilian, even one with a difficult upbringing. Your physical conditioning, your reflexes… they’re on par with, if not exceeding, some of the top students in this program.”
Kunikuzushi felt a familiar surge of irritation. Always questions, always probing. He was not a record to be filed, a statistic to be measured. He was an existence beyond such mundane classifications. He clenched his jaw, slightly tightening his shoulders.
“..guess that means I have a better chance at entering UA, correct?” The puppet snorted instead of answering, eyes narrowing back at him. He hadn't fully thought through his entire ‘backstory’ for this world.
Aizawa only sighed, seeming defeated. “Listen kid, you're an enigma here. If we can get you to explain some things, that's all we need.” Aizawa rubbed his temples, no longer an ‘interrogating’ force.
“My past is my own,” Kunikuzushi stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. He opted for a defensive, uncooperative stance, a common tactic against relentless questioning. “It has no bearing on my ability to become a hero, if that is your concern.”
“ Kyosuke,” Aizawa said, his voice surprisingly gentle, which made Kunikuzushi’s shoulders relax for a moment. “A hero’s past often shapes their future. Understanding your origins helps us with your training, and ensure you’re not harboring any… secrets that could jeopardize yourself or others.” His eyes held a hint of steel. “I’m not asking to pry, Kyosuke, I’m asking to ensure you’re truly ready for what you're going for.”
Secrets? Kunikuzushi almost snorted. He was a walking, breathing secret. His very existence here was a secret. He was a being of a different world, infused with the remnants of a divine Electro Gnosis, a discarded puppet of a god, a vengeful harbinger, a redeemed man, and now… a soon-to-be student at a hero academy. The irony was not lost on him.
He glanced towards Shinsou, who was now quietly practicing combat forms in a corner, his brow furrowed in concentration. The boy’s earlier comment – “almost artificial”. What a reminder. He was a puppet, designed for a purpose. He was not artificial in the sense of being a robot, devoid of thought or feeling. He was something far more complex, a being forged from a god’s desire and mankind’s folly, capable of experiencing emotions he often wished he didn’t possess.
He hated this body, hated these emotions. The frustration, the anger, the slight tremor of indignation that threatened to betray his composure. They were weaknesses, binding him to a flawed existence. He pushed the thoughts down, forcing his mind back to the present. Buer wouldn't approve of this anger again.
After a long moment, he found himself answering the man, looking back at the hero who stood loosely with crossed arms, looking trustworthy.
Looks are deceiving.
“My secrets are not to hide, they're just irrelevant. I can explain to you.. One day. Not today, though. You're not..”
trustworthy.
“..I don't feel like it.”
Aizawa, a man smarter than he seemed, picked up what he meant and simply nodded. Afterall, this was what he thought of a homeless boy running away from his problems.
“Alright, Kyosuke,” Aizawa finally said, stepping back marginally. “I won’t press further for now. But know this: UA is built on trust and transparency. If there’s anything that could impact your ability to function as a hero, anything that could jeopardize the safety of your classmates or the public, it will eventually come to light. And when it does, it would be better if you were the one to disclose it.”
It was a warning(maybe a threat?), subtle but clear. Kunikuzushi merely nodded, a curt, dismissive gesture. He had no intention of revealing anything. His mission here was singular, He was not here to dredge up the ruins of his past, nor to bare his soul to a world that could not comprehend it.
He remembered words that floated back to him some days. He was talking to Buer about the mysterious mission, and as always she delivered.
“Observe humanity, Wanderer. Understand their perseverance, their resilience, their capacity for both great good and great evil. Perhaps in their aspirations, you will find an echo of your own purpose.”
He hadn’t found such an echo yet. All he saw was a messy, loud, and incredibly intrusive world.
Walking off to the stairwell outside, he took a deep breath.
Archons did he miss flying.
___
And on the day of Kunikuzushi’s arrival, a boy with a lyre a few feet away and glowing teal-black braids sat up on the forest floor, looking around with owlish eyes.
“Huh?”