The June sun beat down hard on the sidewalks of Fukuoka.
Kenji adjusted his cap — an old one of Daichi's, too big, slipping over his eyes — and looked at the entrance to the entertainment complex. Fukuoka Wonder Zone. A large modern building with rides outside and arcades inside, neon signs everywhere, and crowds of families and groups of friends going in and out. He could already feel the ambient energy, that electric hum of machines and collective excitement, but he forced himself not to focus on it too much. Today was for fun.
Beside him, Yuki proudly raised her bag.
"Three bottles of water, cookies, and seeds."
Kenji blinked. "Seeds?"
"Just in case." She shrugged. "You never know, in case I see a nice plant to introduce mine to."
"You mean you're going to grow flowers here?"
"Maybe. In the green areas. I'm not going to plant them in the middle of the pavement."
Kenji smiled. That was so Yuki. Since the first day he had given her that strawberry cookie, she hadn't changed — always seeing the world as a place to grow things.
"You're the only person I know who goes on an outing with a gardening kit," he said.
"It's not gardening, it's beautifying the world. That's different."
Toru materialized to their left — she had walked invisible from the subway station, "to save energy for the rides." Her hair was slightly messy, a sign she had probably run. She blinked as she looked at the building.
"The roller coaster is sixty meters high," she announced. "I checked online last night. And inside, there's a free-fall simulator."
Yuki stepped back. "I'll watch from below for both."
"Scared?"
"I'm not scared, I just have… a strong preference for attractions where you stay on the ground. That's different."
Toru tilted her head, amused. "You're such a groundhog, Yuki."
"Do groundhogs stay on the ground?"
"No idea. But they sleep a lot, and so do you."
Kenji watched them exchange, amused. Toru had a way of teasing Yuki that could have been mean, but never was — it was just their dynamic. Yuki knew it, and she returned the teasing with disarming gentleness.
"Shall we?" he asked.
The line for the roller coaster was long — at least thirty minutes. Families with children, groups of teenagers, a few couples. The sun beat down, but they had water.
Yuki pulled a seed from her pocket and made it sprout between her fingers. A small green stem grew, wrapped around her wrist, then retracted when she released her concentration. She did it again. Grow, wrap, retract. A hypnotic motion.
"You're not going to grow a tree in line," Toru said.
"It's just a weed."
"In ten minutes, it's a forest."
"You always exaggerate."
Kenji watched his friends, a faint smile on his lips. He liked these moments — endless lines, absurd conversations. In his previous life, he hadn't really had this. Friends, yes, but not like this.
"Kenji," Toru said when she noticed him smiling. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing."
"You're smiling for nothing?"
"I can smile without a reason."
"No, you always smile for a reason." She narrowed her eyes. "You were observing us, weren't you? Like you do with your Quirk?"
Kenji thought. "Maybe."
"That's not creepy at all."
Yuki looked up from her stem. "It's not creepy, it's just Kenji. He observes everyone all the time. Even in the cafeteria, he watches people without watching them."
"It's my Quirk," Kenji said.
"No, it's you. The Quirk helps, but you're like that. Since we were little."
Kenji didn't have an answer to that. Maybe she was right.
The roller coaster was exactly as Toru had described — impressive.
The cars slowly climbed the slope. Yuki had her eyes closed from the start, her hands gripping the bar tightly. Toru, meanwhile, looked everywhere, excited.
"Look, you can see the sea!" she shouted.
"I DON'T WANT TO SEE THE SEA!" Yuki screamed.
"And over there, that's the port!"
"I DON'T WANT TO SEE THE PORT EITHER."
Kenji looked at the landscape. He felt the ride's energy — the motors, the brakes, the rails. But he forced himself to focus on something else: the wind, the screams, Toru's laughter. Daichi had once told him, "Enjoy it, you monster." He was trying.
Then the drop began.
The G-force pressed them into their seats. Yuki screamed at the top of her lungs. Toru activated her invisibility by reflex, reappeared while screaming, reactivated it — a strobe effect. When she reappeared with her hair sticking straight up, Kenji laughed, a laugh torn from him by the moment.
When the ride stopped, it took Yuki twenty seconds to realize it was over. She opened her eyes and looked around.
"I'm alive," she murmured.
"You survived," Toru confirmed, hair messy but smiling.
"I never want to do that again."
"Want to go again?" Kenji suggested.
Yuki looked at him, horrified. "Are you sick?"
"One more time. Then I'll buy you a crêpe."
She hesitated. "A big crêpe?"
"As big as you want."
She sighed. "You know how to negotiate, Kenji."
They rode the roller coaster again.
Yuki screamed less. She kept her eyes closed, but her hands were less tense. When they arrived, she said, "That was less bad."
Toru tried to stay visible the whole time. She disappeared and reappeared three times, but held on. At the end, she raised her fists.
Kenji raised his hands at the end of the drop, just for the gesture. Daichi did that sometimes. He had copied him without realizing it.
"You raised your hands," Toru said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"No idea."
She laughed. "You're really special, Kenji."
Then they went to the free-fall simulator.
Yuki flatly refused. "I'll wait here."
She sat on a bench next to a large decorative flower pot. Toru and Kenji climbed into the simulator.
The ascent was slow. Then the fall.
Kenji felt his stomach rise. Toru screamed beside him. The wind, the speed, the sudden braking.
When they came back down, Toru's cheeks were red and her eyes bright.
"That was INTENSE!"
"Yeah."
"You don't look impressed."
"I am. I just don't show it."
She laughed and gave him a pat on the shoulder.
Yuki was waiting on the bench. In front of her, in the flower pot, a small green stem had grown.
"You actually grew a plant," Kenji said.
"It's a little mint." Yuki smiled proudly. "That way, the next visitor will get a nice smell."
Toru looked at the mint, then at Yuki, then at the mint. "You're special too."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't necessarily a compliment."
"I'll take it as one."
The arcade was an explosion of lights and noise. Dozens of machines, shooting games, racing games, claw machines. The air smelled of popcorn and electricity — Kenji felt the latter, a constant hum he could ignore.
"It looks like my living room if my parents were rich and obsessive," Toru said.
"You have a weird living room," Yuki said.
"Thanks."
"What do we do first?" Kenji asked.
"THE SHOOTING GAME!" Toru and Yuki shouted at the same time.
The shooting game — cardboard zombies, moving targets, vibrating guns.
Toru was good. Very good. She aimed calmly, hit almost everything, chained zombie headshots.
"How do you do that?" Kenji asked.
"My Quirk." She fired, a zombie fell. "Force fields taught me to focus on precise points." She fired again. "And I play on my brother's console."
Yuki fired everywhere, screaming with each shot.
"I THINK I GOT ONE!"
"That was a sign."
"NO, A ZOMBIE!"
"The sign said 'EXIT.'"
"ZOMBIES WANT TO EXIT TOO!"
Kenji aimed calmly, hit, aimed calmly, hit. He observed patterns, anticipated appearances. At the end, his score was second, behind Toru.
"Not bad, Kenji."
"I watch. I observe. It helps."
Car racing. Four machines, three players.
Toru was fast, aggressive, took turns at the limit.
Yuki braked in turns, got overtaken, swore with childish words — "IT BLOWS UP!"
Kenji found a steady rhythm. Not the fastest, but consistent. He anticipated, accelerated at the right moment.
"I'M CATCHING YOU!" Yuki shouted from third place.
"No," Toru said. "No, you're not… wait, she passed me?"
Yuki had passed her — probably by accident. Then she braked too late in the next turn and crashed.
"I'm last. It's my natural place."
"You're third out of three," Toru said.
"Same thing."
Dance game. A platform, arrows scrolling.
Yuki stepped up, chose a difficult song, was eliminated in thirty seconds. She was laughing so hard she was crying.
"I'M TERRIBLE!"
"YES!" Toru confirmed.
"WHY ARE YOU CONFIRMING?"
"BECAUSE IT'S TRUE!"
Toru stepped up. She was better — she followed the rhythm, chained combos. Then she saw Kenji watching her and her invisibility activated in surprise. She reappeared, having lost the rhythm.
"It's your fault, Kenji."
"My fault?"
"You smiled."
Kenji stepped up. He missed the first three arrows. Then he observed, anticipated, and his final score was average.
"You have no rhythm, Kenji."
"I know."
"Does that bother you?"
"No. I don't dance."
"But you were dancing."
"I was following instructions. That's not dancing."
Yuki giggled. "He's right."
Ticket machines. They spent an hour there.
Toru excelled at precision games. She won almost every time.
Yuki won by accident. She played, lost, played, lost, then hit the jackpot without understanding.
"How did you do that?" Toru asked.
"No idea."
"That's not possible."
"Maybe it's my Quirk."
"Your Quirk is plants."
"Then it's my charisma."
Kenji analyzed each machine before playing. Probabilities, mechanisms, strategic choices. He won regularly.
"You're not fun, Kenji."
"I am. I think."
"Thinking isn't fun."
"For me it is."
Yuki raised a roll. "I won a hundred tickets!"
Toru and Kenji congratulated her.
Prize counter. Dozens of items.
Yuki chose a small teddy bear holding a heart. She hugged it.
"It's cute. I'm going to call him Kenji."
Kenji blinked. "Why Kenji?"
"Because he looks calm. Like you."
"Teddy bears don't look calm."
"This one does."
Toru chose a ghost keychain that glowed in the dark. She admired it, turning her invisibility on and off.
"It glows even when I'm invisible. Too cool."
Kenji chose a small notebook. Black cover, blank pages.
Toru looked at him. "You're buying a notebook. In an arcade."
"Yes."
"You're really special, Kenji."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't necessarily a compliment."
"I'll take it as one."
Yuki giggled. "That's just how he is. You get used to it."
Outside, the sun was setting. They sat on a bench near the exit, feet sore, loaded with their treasures. Yuki rested her head on Toru's shoulder, and Toru didn't push her away.
"It was good," Yuki said.
"It was awesome," Toru corrected.
"It was tiring," Kenji said.
Yuki turned her head. "You're tired too? You didn't run around."
"Tired differently." He touched his temple. "Perceiving all the time wears you out."
Toru looked at him. "Your Quirk tires you?"
"Sometimes. Not always. But today… the lights, the machines… it's a lot. But it's good."
Yuki reached over and patted his shoulder.
"You're brave, Kenji."
Kenji blinked. "I just do what I can."
"That's what being brave is."
Toru nodded. "What she said."
Kenji didn't answer. But a smile stayed at the corner of his lips long after they left the park.
The following Sunday, Kenji got into the family car with a faint flutter in his stomach. Not fear. Just that feeling he always had before seeing his grandfather.
The Arashi house was in an upscale residential neighborhood. Large traditional home, carefully maintained garden, silent electric gate. Kenji had seen it dozens of times.
"THERE HE IS!"
The door flew open before the car was parked. Takeshi Arashi rushed down the steps, seventy years old, back straight, arms wide, huge smile.
"Kenji! My favorite grandson!"
Daichi got out of the car. "I thought I was the favorite, Grandpa."
"You're both the favorites." Takeshi grabbed Kenji in a hug that lifted him off the ground. "But Kenji is MORE favorite today because I haven't seen him in three weeks. THREE WEEKS! An eternity!"
Kenji let himself be lifted, silent laughter shaking his shoulders. He loved these moments. Grandpa was the only one who lifted him like that.
"I came two weeks ago, Grandpa."
"Two weeks, three weeks, it's the same!" Takeshi set him down, keeping a hand on his shoulder. He examined him. "You've grown. That blue streak?"
"It comes back when I absorb electricity. Right now it's almost gone."
"Fascinating." Takeshi took his hand. "Come, I have cakes."
Akari sighed. "Father, you're going to stuff him."
"That's a grandfather's role!"
Inside, it smelled of incense and old wood. Kenji sat on the couch, a tray of cakes in front of him. Daichi sat beside him and grabbed one immediately.
"He's going to show you photos," Daichi whispered.
"I know."
"Even the one where Mom has that ridiculous fringe."
"I've seen it. Three times."
"Oh. Right."
Takeshi came back with an album and sat beside Kenji, shoulders touching. He opened to a marked page.
"Your mother at seven."
The photo showed a little girl with brown hair, thick bangs covering her eyebrows, an open book on her lap, pouting.
"Why does she look upset?"
"Because I wanted to take her picture and she wanted to read." Takeshi smiled. "She was always like that. Serious. Focused. Like you."
Kenji looked at the photo, then at his mother. Akari rolled her eyes but was smiling.
"That's not true."
"It is," Kenji, Daichi, and Takeshi said at the same time.
Akari sighed. "I'm surrounded by accomplices."
The photos went on. Akari at eight, at ten, at twelve. Daichi as a baby. Kenji as a baby. Birthdays, holidays, vacations.
Takeshi commented on every image. He remembered everything — dates, places, little stories.
Then a photo of Kenji at five, sitting on that same couch, a book on his lap. He looked at the camera with that calm gaze.
"You were already like that," Takeshi said softly. "Serious. Observant. You could see you were thinking about things."
Kenji looked at the photo.
"It's not a flaw," Takeshi added. "It's just who you are."
Kenji nodded, warmth in his chest.
"Good." Takeshi closed the album. "Enough nostalgia. I have a proposal."
He straightened up, theatrical pose.
"Summer vacation."
Daichi, reaching for a third cake, froze. "What?"
"I'm taking you to Europe."
Silence.
"… What?" Daichi said.
"Spain, Italy, England. Three weeks. I'll pay for everything." He turned to Kenji. "Castles, museums, scientific stuff."
Kenji opened his mouth. Closed it.
"Europe?"
"Europe! The Leaning Tower of Pisa. The Colosseum. Big Ben."
Daichi's eyes were wide. "We're going to see Big Ben?"
"And the rest."
"And eat pasta in Italy?"
"Obviously."
"And pizza?"
"Pizza too."
Daichi turned to Kenji, pure happiness on his face. Kenji was elsewhere — in his head, listing everything he could see. Museums, cathedrals, stained glass, light.
"Grandpa. Is it true?"
Takeshi placed a hand on his head.
"As true as I am your grandfather." He looked at Akari. "I spoke to Hiroshi. All four of you are going."
Daichi threw himself at him for a hug, nearly knocking him over. Takeshi laughed.
Kenji stepped closer too, resting his head against his grandfather's shoulder.
"Thank you."
Takeshi held them both, eyes shining.
"It's nothing. Just a vacation."
But in his voice, you could hear it was more than that.
The following weeks were a whirlwind.
Daichi pinned a map of Europe to his bedroom wall and stuck pushpins everywhere. After three days, the map looked like a porcupine. He watched videos about each city, wrote down addresses.
"Barcelona, Rome, Florence, Venice, Pisa, Naples, London, Oxford, Cambridge…"
"Manchester," Kenji said, seeing a pin.
"There's a football museum in Manchester."
"You want to see a football museum?"
"YES."
Kenji nodded. If Daichi wanted to, they would go.
Yuki and Toru took the news differently.
Yuki cried a little — not long, tears she wiped away saying it was "dust." Kenji knew it was because she would miss him.
"Three weeks. That's long."
"I'll come back."
"I know. But it's long."
She gave him a small sunflower seed in a plastic box, wrapped in damp cotton. A tiny sprout was beginning to break through.
"You have to plant it somewhere in Europe. In a pretty place. With good soil. And you'll send me a photo when it's grown."
Kenji took the box carefully.
"I promise, Yuki."
She smiled, eyes still damp. "I know. You're like that. You keep your promises."
Toru thought for a long time.
"Bring me back memories."
Kenji blinked. "Memories?"
"Yes. Things from there. Small objects. Photos. Stories." She shrugged. "I don't just want an item. I want what you saw, what you felt."
Kenji thought.
"I can bring small things. And I'll tell you."
"Deal."
Bishop, during their lesson, nodded slowly.
"Europe."
"You've been?"
"Once."
"What was it like?"
Bishop thought. "Rainy. In England. Italy warmer. Spain outright hot." He looked at Kenji. "You'll feel things there."
"What do you mean?"
"Cities have their own energy. Not historical — just accumulated energy. People, machines, life. Your Quirk will pick up all of that."
Kenji made a mental note.
"I'll take my notebook."
"Obviously." Bishop placed a hand on his shoulder. "But enjoy it too. That's important."
Kenji looked at him.
"Did you enjoy things? When you were young?"
Bishop gave a rare, almost fragile smile.
"Not enough. That's why I'm telling you."
Preparations intensified.
Akari took the suitcases out of the attic — four large ones. Daichi wanted to bring his hero card collection. Akari made him understand he would have to choose.
Hiroshi prepared folders on each city. Routes, travel times, addresses, maps. Three copies.
"It's too much," Daichi said.
"It's prudent."
Kenji flipped through his. Each city had its section. An architect's work — precise, organized, meticulous.
"Thank you, Dad."
Hiroshi smiled discreetly. "Enjoy it."
Kenji prepared his new notebook.
Black cover, blank pages — bought at the arcade. On the first page, he carefully wrote:
Travel Journal — Europe
Spain · Italy · England
August
He added below:
Observe the cities' energies. Note differences with Japan. Take photos for Yuki and Toru. Plant Yuki's seed somewhere pretty. Bring back memories for Toru. Eat pasta with Daichi. Visit a football museum in Manchester. Make Mom and Dad happy. Write everything I see. Don't forget to have fun.
Then, in smaller letters:
Bishop said to enjoy it. I'll try.
The night before departure, Daichi entered without knocking.
"You ready?"
"Almost."
Daichi sat beside him. His suitcase was in the hallway, a Present Mic sticker on it. He had managed to fit his cards.
"I've never been on a plane."
"Me neither."
"What if it falls?"
Kenji looked at him. Daichi seemed serious, but there was a spark in his eyes — he was teasing.
"Planes don't fall. It's rare."
"I know. But what if?"
Kenji thought. He could play along.
"If the plane falls, I'll absorb the impact energy and save us."
Daichi stared at him. "Are you serious?"
"No." Kenji smiled. "But it made you stop thinking about it."
Daichi looked at him for a second, then laughed.
"You're really special, Kenji."
"That's what Toru says."
"She's right."
They stayed silent for a moment, sitting side by side. Outside, the night, the city's sounds.
"Daichi."
"What?"
"Are you happy?"
Daichi shrugged, but a smile slipped out.
"Yeah. Really happy. I can't sleep because I keep thinking about pasta."
"You're thinking about pasta?"
"And the rest. But mostly pasta."
Kenji nodded. "I'm thinking about cathedrals. About light. About the energy I'll feel."
"You're really special."
"I know."
Daichi stood up, took a step toward the door.
"Kenji."
"Yes?"
"Sleep well. We leave tomorrow."
Kenji nodded.
"You too."
Daichi left. Kenji stayed for a moment, looking out the window. Outside, the city hummed with energy. Within his five-meter radius, he felt all of it.
But for once, he didn't listen for long.
He closed his eyes, thought about pasta, stained glass, Yuki and her seed, Toru and her memories, Daichi and his cards, his parents and their discreet smiles, Bishop and his scars, Grandpa and his hugs.
He thought about everything waiting for him.
And he slept.