MHA: Absolute Telekinesis

As the sun dipped below the horizon and tall buildings cast shadows across the streets, the rhythmic clatter of dishes echoed from a small restaurant. In the back, a young boy, about 13 or 14 years old, diligently scrubbed plates, his face calm and peaceful, a faint smile tugging at his lips as if anticipating something. He rinsed the last plate, carefully drying his hands, when a soft voice called out to him.

"Liam, it's time to close up. Are you done?" Lauren called from the front of the restaurant. The small, plump woman had gentle amber eyes that always carried warmth, and tonight was no exception.

"Yes, ma'am!" Liam responded with a grin, wiping his hands on his apron before heading out of the kitchen. He swung the door shut behind him and walked briskly to where Lauren stood by the entrance.

She handed him a folded $30 bill. "Here's your pay for today," she said, then added with a wink, "And Happy Birthday, Liam. The extra ten's a gift—get yourself something nice."

Liam's smile widened, his eyes gleaming under the restaurant's dim lighting. "Thank you, ma'am!"

Lauren chuckled, mirroring his smile. "Goodnight, Liam. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course!" he called back as he stepped into the cool night air.

Lauren watched him go, her smile faltering ever so slightly. She knew all too well the hardship he was returning to.

Liam walked quickly toward the convenience store, his face alight with excitement. The moment he stepped inside, the cool air-conditioned breeze hit him, but he barely noticed—his eyes were already locked onto the manga section.

He practically dashed over, scanning the shelves until he spotted it: the latest volume of My Hero Academia Volume 37. His fingers brushed over the glossy cover as he picked it up, a small, satisfied grin tugging at his lips. Tucking it carefully under his arm, he turned toward the food section, where the real challenge awaited him.

"What should I eat today...?" Liam murmured, scanning the shelves. His stomach rumbled in protest, but his mind was elsewhere—doing quick math. 'The manga costs ten bucks. Dad thinks I only make fifteen, so I can only spend five on food.'

After a brief hesitation, he settled on a prepackaged burrito. Cheap, filling—good enough. He made his way to the counter, handed over the cash, and offered the cashier a polite smile. "Have a good night."

Outside, Liam perched on the store's curb, unwrapping his burrito as a cold wind brushed against him. The first bite was warm, comforting, making up for the chill that nipped at his skin. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, his fingers occasionally tightening around the plastic bag containing his precious manga.

Ten minutes passed. With a quiet sigh, he dusted off his hands, picked up his MHA volume, and began the slow walk home.

Twenty minutes later, Liam slipped into a dark, silent alley, carefully weaving around the scattered piles of trash. His heartbeat quickened as he reached a worn, splintered door embedded in one of the walls. With a glance over his shoulder, he turned the knob and stepped inside, shutting it quickly behind him.

The air was thick with the scent of mildew and stale booze. As he climbed the rickety, half-rotten stairs, each step creaked beneath his weight. At the top, a warped wooden door loomed before him.

From the other side, voices clashed in a drunken battle.

"We don't have any more money! We need to do this!" a high-pitched female voice screeched, raw with desperation.

"You're crazy!" a deep, slurred voice shot back. "You'd really do that to him? He's our son!" The words stumbled out unevenly, punctuated by the slow glug of another drink.

"Your son," the woman spat, venom dripping from each syllable. "And don't act like you're any better than me. You hate the little shit just as much as I do. After all, you can't forgive how he killed your wi—"

A loud crack split the air. A slap.

A heavy thud followed, then silence. A thick, suffocating silence.

Liam flinched and froze, his breath catching in his throat. He didn't dare move, afraid that even the slightest sound would draw their attention.

"Shut up," the man snarled, his voice thick with alcohol and anger. "Don't you dare mention her."

A tense silence followed, so heavy it pressed against Liam's chest.

Then, the woman let out a ragged exhale. "Fine. But we don't have cash, and this is the only way. Make your choice, because they'll be here in a few minut—"

Liam stopped listening. His feet carried him forward on instinct, carefully weaving through the minefield of beer bottles and used syringes. By the time he reached his door, he was trembling. He slipped inside and shut it silently behind him.

Only then did he let out a shaky breath. His heart pounded against his ribs, but he forced a smile onto his lips.

'I know Dad doesn't hate me… He's just still sad that Mom died when I was born.'

Slowly, Liam slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees. He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to force the tears back.

'As long as his anger makes him feel better, that's all that matters. It is my fault she died, after all…'

The thought sat heavy in his chest, suffocating, but he shook his head sharply. No. He couldn't think about that now.

'Can't be sad now. I need to see if Bakugo survived—he can't die!'

Pushing the emotions aside, Liam crouched on the moldy mattress, carefully unwrapping the My Hero Academia volume he had brought with him. The tiny room—barely large enough to be called a closet—was damp, the air thick with mold. But in the dim light, stacks of neatly arranged manga stood beside his bed, the only part of his world that he could control.

Liam sat on the moldy bed, a thin blanket his only barrier from the cold. He carefully flipped to the first page of his manga—

The door slammed open.

Melissa, his father's girlfriend, stood in the doorway, eyes burning with rage.

"Get up, you brat!" She grabbed his arm before he could react, yanking him forward.

His manga slipped from his hands, fluttering to the floor.

"W-What are you doing?! Let go!" Liam struggled, digging his fingers into her wrist, but her grip was iron-tight. His feet scraped against the floor as she dragged him out, sending empty beer bottles skittering. A sharp sting ran up his leg as a stray needle from a syringe poked his skin.

"Dad! Dad!" Liam's voice cracked as he looked around frantically.

His father stood against the wall, bottle in hand, watching blankly. As Liam's desperate gaze met his, he looked away, gripping the bottle tighter.

The wooden door leading outside groaned open as Melissa pulled Liam down the stairs. She moved with no care for his stumbles, no concern for the bruises forming on his arms.

"Stop whining and just follow quietly, or else." Her tone was cold, final.

Liam clung to the rotting stair railing, his fingers squeezing for dear life.

Melissa let out an annoyed scoff. "Seriously?" She raised her foot and kicked his arm hard.

Pain exploded through his wrist. Liam screamed, his grip breaking as he tumbled down the last few steps, landing in a heap at the bottom. His body ached from fresh cuts and bruises.

"Dad, stop her!" he sobbed, twisting to look up.

His father stood at the top of the stairs. For a split second, guilt flickered in his glazed-over eyes.

Then, without a word, he closed the door.

Liam's stomach dropped.

Melissa yanked him back to his feet and shoved the alley door open. Cold night air bit at his skin. Through teary eyes, he saw them—

Two men.

They were dressed in black, their faces hidden behind masks.

Melissa straightened, putting on an almost eager smile. "See? He's healthy. He'll fetch a good price, right?"

One of the men stepped forward, eyes scanning Liam like he was nothing more than an object.

"Malnourished. Bruised. The best we can give you is $1,000."

Melissa's jaw clenched. "$10,000! You said—"

The second man lifted his shirt just enough to reveal a pistol.

Melissa's breath hitched. She forced a cough, then quickly muttered, "$1,000 is fine."

She snatched the money, stuffing it into her pocket. The door slammed shut behind her.

Liam collapsed onto the cold ground, silent tears streaking his face.

One of the men knelt beside Liam, his cold, impassive gaze locking onto him. Without a word, he pulled out a syringe, flicked it once, and plunged the needle into Liam's arm.

A sharp sting. A spreading numbness.

Liam's vision blurred as his body grew heavier. His breath hitched as he tried to fight it, but the drug pulled him under.

"It's nothing personal, kid."

Darkness swallowed him whole.

When Liam woke, his mind was foggy, his limbs sluggish. A blinding light beamed down at him, making it impossible to open his eyes fully.

A muffled voice. Shuffling movements. A sharp, sterile scent burned his nose.

He turned his head weakly to the side. A man in a surgical mask loomed over him, holding a syringe.

"W-Who...?" Liam rasped, trying to move his arms.

The metallic clink of chains sent ice down his spine. His wrists were bound to the table.

The masked man tilted his head, studying him with detached curiosity. "You're awake? Did I not use enough anesthesia?" He muttered to himself before stepping out of view.

A few seconds passed before he returned, adjusting the syringe in his gloved hand.

"I've upped the dosage, so just drift off to sleep." He hesitated, as if contemplating something. Then, almost absentmindedly, he added, "I suppose letting you die in ignorance would be a bit cruel."

Liam's breath came in short, panicked gasps. His heart pounded in his chest.

The man leaned closer, his voice calm, almost gentle.

"We're harvesting your organs, so you won't have to suffer anymore."

The words barely registered before the darkness took him again—this time, for good.