MHA; I'm Batman

*Chapter 7: The Reckoning*

The principal's office was a small, stifling room, its walls lined with shelves of dusty trophies and framed certificates. Rentaro sat on the edge of a hard wooden chair, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. His mother sat beside him, her face pale, her fingers nervously twisting the strap of her purse. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made it hard to breathe.

The principal, a tall man with thinning hair and a pair of thick glasses perched on his nose, paced back and forth behind his desk. His expression was stern, his lips pressed into a thin line. He stopped abruptly and turned to face Rentaro, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Do you have any idea how serious this is?" he asked, his voice low and measured. "The boys you fought with are in the nurse's office right now. Bruises, cuts, one of them might even have a broken bone. Their parents are furious. I've spent the last hour begging them not to press charges."

Rentaro's mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Charges? But... but Rentaro would never—"

"Never what?" the principal interrupted, his voice rising. "Never get into a fight? Never hurt anyone? Because that's exactly what happened. And from what I've heard, it wasn't just a scuffle. It was... brutal."

Rentaro kept his eyes fixed on the floor, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel his mother's gaze on him, heavy with disbelief and disappointment. He wanted to explain, to tell her everything, but he couldn't. Not here. Not now.

"Rentaro," the principal said, his tone softening slightly. "I need you to tell me what happened. Did you use some kind of... ability? Something to enhance your strength?"

Rentaro hesitated, his mind racing. He couldn't mention the suit. He couldn't risk losing it. "No," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I got angry. I didn't mean to hurt them that badly."

The principal sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Well, whatever you did, it was enough to scare those boys half to death. And their parents aren't going to let this go easily. You're lucky I managed to talk them down."

Rentaro's mother reached out and placed a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but firm. "Rentaro," she said, her voice trembling. "What's going on? Why would you do something like this?"

He looked at her, his eyes filled with guilt and regret. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I just... I couldn't take it anymore."

The principal shook his head. "I'm suspending you for a week. And if anything like this happens again, I won't be able to protect you. Do you understand?"

Rentaro nodded, his throat tight. "Yes, sir."

---

The walk home was silent, the weight of what had happened hanging heavily between them. Rentaro's mother kept her eyes fixed on the ground, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Rentaro walked a few steps behind her, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his mind racing with thoughts of what he had done.

As soon as they stepped inside the house, his mother turned to him, her eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "You promised me," she said, her voice shaking. "You promised you wouldn't act like some kind of hero. You promised you wouldn't use that... that thing outside."

Rentaro flinched, his heart sinking. "Mom, I—"

"I don't want to hear it," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "I'm not disappointed because you defended yourself. I'm disappointed because you broke your promise. You put yourself in danger, and for what? To prove something? To show off?"

Rentaro opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He had no defense, no excuse. He had let her down.

"I don't want to talk about this right now," she said, her voice firm. "Go to your room. Don't come out until dinner."

Rentaro nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He trudged up the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. When he reached his room, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his chest heaving with emotion.

He pulled the mask from his bag and stared at it, his hands trembling. For a moment, he wanted to throw it across the room, to smash it against the wall and be done with it. But then an image flashed in his mind—his father, smiling, proud. He couldn't give up. Not now.

Slowly, he sank to the floor, his back against the door. The mask rested in his lap, its lenses dark and lifeless. He closed his eyes, the events of the day replaying in his mind.

The fight had been a blur. The mask had warned him—only 5% of the suit's power had been activated, and even that had been enough to cause serious damage. He had hurt those boys, badly. And for what? To prove a point? To feel powerful?

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them away. He couldn't afford to break down. Not now. He had to be stronger. He had to be better.

But as he sat there, the weight of his actions pressing down on him, he couldn't help but wonder if he was cut out for this. If he was strong enough to carry the burden of the suit—and the legacy it represented.

---