MHA: Absolute Telekinesis

(Kata POV – Okada Residence)

After Lady Nagant's departure, I sit in the dark, piecing together my next steps.

First, Nezu. I know he'll agree to help—he and All Might would never ignore any information about Nana Shimura. Especially if they suspect I know about One For All.

Second, my identity. Revealing who I am would simplify things, but it would also put me under Nezu's watchful eye. He'd keep tabs on me, limiting my freedom.

Third—and most urgent—how do I deal with my parents' bodies? Disappearing isn't an option. If I want to enter U.A. later, I need my identity intact.

I take a slow breath, steadying myself. "One step at a time."

Standing, I leave the closet and move through the house, opening every window I can find. I need to set the scene.

I turn my attention to the house's structure, searching for key support beams. Using my telekinesis, I compress some from within and bend others ever so slightly—just enough to simulate years of unnoticed damage.

In the kitchen, I locate the light switch. A standard setup. With careful focus, I use my quirk to weaken the internal wiring and external plastic, ensuring a spark when it's next flipped. Finally, I crouch by the gas stove, tracing the pipe that supplies it.

A slow twist of the valve releases a faint hiss of gas. I let it flow for a moment before shutting it off again. Then, with delicate control, I weaken the connection inside the stove itself, making it look like a mechanical failure.

The smell of gas begins to spread. Good.

I turn toward my parents' room. My stomach tightens at the sight. The blood-stained sheets. Their lifeless bodies. I swallow the bile rising in my throat and force myself forward.

Using my quirk, I focus on my father's body. It takes effort—more than I'd like—but I carefully mimic the natural movements of a groggy man waking up and stumbling toward the kitchen. The process is slow. Slower than I want. My control isn't refined enough, and I can feel sweat forming at my brow from the strain.

Once I position him near the light switch, I move on to my mother.

Her body is lighter, but the task is no easier. I focus on her ankle, carefully twisting the joint—not enough to break, just enough to simulate a severe sprain. With precision, I pool her remaining blood into the area, creating the illusion of swelling.

My hands tremble slightly as I wipe sweat from my forehead. Almost done.

I make her corpse stand upright, then release my hold. The body collapses unnaturally fast, but I ignore the unease gnawing at me. No one will question it too closely once the fire starts.

I take a step back, scanning my work. Believable enough. But just in case…

I return to the kitchen, twisting the gas valve open once more. This time, I let it flow freely and wait. I need to make sure it already far enough. The scent thickens, seeping into every corner of the house.

Backing away, I lift my father's body with my quirk and hold it there. Walking to my room, I brace myself, then trigger the final act.

I make him flip the switch.

The door slams shut behind me as a deafening roar consumes the world outside. Heat. Pressure. A violent gust shoving against my walls. Even with my door closed, I feel the force of the explosion shake the house.

Heat seeps through the cracks in my door, licking at the edges like a hungry beast. The air is thick with smoke, suffocating, and the crackling flames beyond are enough proof that the house is truly burning.

'Perfect.' I smile weakly, though it fades almost immediately. Only the hardest part remains.

Taking a deep breath, I stumble toward my window, watching the fire spread across the ceiling. Not yet. Just a little longer. As the flames devour the wood above, I use my quirk to snap the weakened segments, sending them collapsing in front of the window—the only way a weak, quirkless 12-year-old might have survived.

This is gonna hurt.

I sigh—only for it to turn into a violent cough. Smoke coils in my lungs, burning my throat like sandpaper. I glance back at the door, but I already know: if I go that way, I die.

Turning back to the window, I shove my hands into the burning wreckage, fingers sinking into scorching wood. Pain explodes up my arms as my skin blisters instantly, the fire chewing away at my flesh. The smell of burning meat—my own—hits me, and I nearly gag.

'You need to do this. You need to do this. You need to do this...'

I chant it over and over in my head, clinging to the thought like a lifeline as the smoke thickens, choking out my vision.

I pull at the charred beams, breaking away just enough to reveal the window. Through the haze of tears and pain, I force myself onto the burning wood, my legs barely holding me up as my ruined hands slam into the glass.

It shatters.

The jagged shards slice into my arms and shoulders as I fall through, tumbling onto the dirt outside. My lungs seize, a final desperate cough ripping from my throat as I lay on my side, barely breathing, barely alive.

My hands and feet throb viciously, charred and useless. My back stings, shredded by the glass. I try to push myself up, but my legs don't cooperate. Instead, I crawl—just a few steps, then a few more—before collapsing near the road.

The flames roar behind me, a beacon of destruction. The smoke is still in my lungs, clogging my thoughts, slowing them down. Finally, my vision wavers.

'Success...'

The thought barely forms before my world tilts sideways. The last thing I hear is the distant wail of sirens before everything fades to black.

(Third Person POV)

Early in the morning, the news buzzed with reports of a devastating tragedy.

"Pro Hero Juro Okada and his wife, Suko Okada, perished in a fire late last night. The only survivor, their son Kata Okada, miraculously escaped but remains unconscious, suffering from severe injuries. Authorities suspect a gas leak as the cause, leading to the home's collapse…"

The report played on countless screens across the country. The public mourned the loss of a dedicated hero and his wife—at least, for a few hours.

Because by midday, another story seized the world's attention.

At noon, U.A. High School's principal, Nezu, appeared before a crowd of reporters. At his side stood All Might, the Symbol of Peace, and Lady Nagant, the infamous sniper. The room buzzed with anticipation. Then, Nagant spoke.

She laid everything bare.

Her voice steady, she recounted the truth behind the HPSC's corruption, exposing years of hidden crimes and unethical operations. Evidence backed every word. And though she apologized for her past actions, she vowed to redefine what it meant to be a true hero.

With Nezu and All Might publicly supporting her, outrage against the HPSC ignited like wildfire. The headlines shifted instantly—no longer about the Okada fire, but about justice.

Hours later, Kenji Tsuragamae, Japan's Chief of Police, led a full-scale raid on HPSC headquarters. The organization's president was arrested on live television, with the vice president stepping in to take control. Public trust in the agency was shattered, forcing the new leadership to promise sweeping reforms just to contain the backlash.

Lady Nagant was taken into custody, but with both U.A. and the new HPSC president backing her testimony, her punishment was surprisingly lenient—strict monitoring, psychological evaluations, and a chance at redemption.

Nezu even made his stance clear.

"If she proves herself worthy, I would be honored to have Lady Nagant join U.A. as a teacher."

The world was changing. And the Okada family tragedy? Already forgotten.

(Kata POV – Hospital Room)

Groggily waking up, I blink against the harsh light streaming through the open window. My eyes settle on the plain white ceiling. A sigh slips past my lips.

'This ceiling looks familiar.'

I shift, only for pain to shoot through my entire body like electricity. My breath hitches, and I grit my teeth as I glance down. Bandages. Everywhere. Wrapped so tightly around my limbs that even twitching feels like a chore.

'Survived the fire, only to feel like a damn mummy.' I groan internally.

Resigning myself to stillness, I stare at the ceiling, mentally checking off the next step in my plan.

'All that's left is telling Nezu about Nana's grandchild. That'll have to wait until Lady Nagant gets a chance to make contact, which might not even happen if they keep her under surveillance.'

The sound of a door creaking open draws my attention. A nurse enters, notices I'm awake, and immediately rushes back out to call a doctor.

I sigh. Here it comes—the speech. The 'You're an orphan now' talk.

Minutes later, a doctor walks in. He's tall and somewhat lanky, with messy blue hair and matching tired eyes. He offers a small, professional smile as he checks my vitals.

"Glad to see you're awake. Do you remember what happened?"

"I... remember a fire." My voice is hoarse, my throat painfully dry. The doctor notices and gestures to the nurse, who carefully helps me drink some water. I gulp it down obediently, relishing the relief.

"Good. Can you tell me anything else?" He scribbles on a notepad, his face unreadable.

I rattle off my name, address, and a few trivial details, aware he's checking for brain damage. He nods, seemingly satisfied, before his expression shifts—serious, almost hesitant.

"Kata, I have some unfortunate news."

Here it comes. I keep my expression tense, neutral. Cue the fake devastation.

"Your parents died in the fire."

The way he says it—like he's personally grieving—almost makes me laugh. Instead, I bite the inside of my cheek and force my face into a mixture of shock and heartbreak. I blink rapidly, letting just enough tears pool in my eyes before quickly blinking them away.

He watches me carefully, as if gauging my reaction.

"I understand this is a lot to process," he says gently. "Someone will come by later to discuss your options. For now, just rest."

I nod stiffly. The doctor and nurse leave, the door clicking shut behind them. Only then do I exhale, sinking deeper into the bed.

'I got away with it.'

The next few days blur together—police interviews, check-ups, and meaningless well-wishes from people I couldn't care less about. I stick to my story: the house caught fire, I barely survived, and in the chaos, I may have awakened a quirk.

The lie settles easily. Weeks pass. My burns heal, leaving only minor scars on my palms and feet. The glass wounds fade into mere decorations on my already scarred body.

Then, finally—three weeks later—I'm discharged.

A police officer informs me that I'll be sent to an orphanage. Apparently, being twelve makes me 'unlikely to be adopted.' Not that I care. More importantly, I learn that my father's pro-hero salary left behind a sizable inheritance. The funds will be locked in an estate until I turn 18, but they'll cover my education and living costs.

'Perfect. That takes care of U.A. funding. No financial issues, no loose ends... almost.'

There's just one last thing to handle.

The night before I leave for the orphanage, I take action.

In the cover of darkness, I write a note. Short. Precise. Every word carefully chosen.

It details everything about Tenko Shimura—his tragic quirk awakening, the deaths of his family, and the truth that he survived.

No name, no signature. Only the facts.

I leave it anonymously delivered to U.A., addressed to Nezu.

It would be troublesome if he knew it was me who sent Lady Nagant. The questions would never end and it'd be hard to lie to someone as smart as him.

With that final piece in place, I step outside and into the car arranged for me, watching as the hospital fades into the distance and my new life begins.