Toji watched Momo's confused eyes, wondering if he had gone too far. If he was being honest, he was starting to regret initiating that conversation. However, he couldn't just say, "Hey, I'm a man who's technically old enough to be your father." So, carefully, he searched for the right words.
"In this world... aren't there stories about people fighting against curses?" he asked, trying to introduce the topic tactfully.
Momo blinked, still perplexed. "Sure, there are fantasy stories or tales about that. But what do you mean?" she responded, tilting her head.
Toji sighed. Of course, she wouldn't know anything about it. It was something non-sorcerers would never understand. Finally, he decided to be more direct. "Look... I have memories from another time."
That statement only made Momo frown slightly. "What are you trying to tell me, Toji-kun?"
"What I'm trying to say is... you asked me how I do all of this without having a quirk. Well, the answer is that I'm not exactly from this world. Or maybe I am, but... I have memories of a past that doesn't belong here. Or perhaps... they're not even mine." He never thought he'd tell her, but he needed to tell someone, obviously mixing in lies.
Momo stared at him, trying to discern if this was a joke. But the seriousness on Toji's face was undeniable. "From what I understand, my body retains something from that world. My soul is tied to something called Heavenly Restriction. According to those memories, in that other world, there was something called cursed energy that sorcerers used. But my body suffered that restriction, which made it impossible for me to have or feel it. In exchange, my physical strength, my reflexes, my endurance... my entire body improved beyond its limits."
Momo's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you listening to me?" Toji's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Yes, but..." Momo shook her head, trying to process it. "Since when have you had these memories?"
Toji hesitated slightly. He couldn't tell her it was practically since he was a fetus. "Why is this so difficult...?" he thought. "Not long ago," he finally answered, trying to sound convincing.
Momo stared at him, her concern growing with each passing second. Toji rarely hesitated or showed doubt, but now he was sweating slightly, something completely out of character for him.
"I wouldn't know how to explain it properly," Toji finally said, his voice rougher than usual as he averted his gaze.
Momo didn't know how to respond. She chose her words carefully. "Does anyone else know about this?" she asked, her tone maintaining a calm air despite her growing curiosity.
Toji shook his head abruptly. "No. Only you."
The sincerity of his response left Momo slightly disarmed, but it also made her feel the weight of being the only one Toji had confided in. "What was that... other era like?"
Toji scratched his head, uncomfortable, and let out a heavy sigh. "It was like the 2000s... at least, I think so. That's why I don't know if these memories belong to someone from the past or another world."
Momo narrowed her eyes. She knew Toji wasn't telling her everything, but she also knew that pressing him would only make him shut down more. She opted for a different approach. "You mentioned something about a heavenly restriction... and an energy. How does that energy work?"
Toji thought for a moment, trying to remember precisely what he had read and experienced in his past life. "Cursed energy..." he began, his tone more serious. "It's exactly what it sounds like: an energy that forms from people's negative emotions. Hatred, fear, envy... all those things. I was supposed to be able to use it, but my body has that heavenly restriction."
"Heavenly restriction?" Momo tilted her head slightly, trying to process.
"It's like an exchange. My body can't use cursed energy... but in return, my physical strength and reflexes are superhuman. It's something strange... I don't think there's anything like it in this world."
Momo slowly nodded, fascinated and confused in equal measure. "And those memories... whose were they? Don't they seem familiar to you?"
Toji remained silent, his jaw tightening. Momo could see he was struggling with himself, deciding whether or not to tell her the truth. Finally, he sighed and looked directly into her eyes.
"They were mine," he confessed firmly. "My same appearance, my same attitude... everything."
Momo stared at him in complete silence, trying to process what Toji had just said. It made no sense, but at the same time, she couldn't ignore the sincerity in his words.
"So... those memories aren't just scattered fragments. They're part of who you are, right?"
Toji didn't respond immediately, but something in his expression confirmed it. Momo decided not to push further. If there was one thing she had learned about Toji, it was that he would only say more when he was ready.
"If you ever need help understanding it... I'm here, Toji-kun," Momo said with a small smile.
Toji only nodded, saying nothing more. He didn't want to regret speaking, but a part of him feared he had crossed a line. He could have continued his life as it was, without telling anyone, but... he already felt exhausted. Out of place. Even though he wanted to forget, those memories constantly haunted him, like a shadow he couldn't shake.
He knew he couldn't stop thinking about it, not while that question kept burning in his mind: was he really in his world, or in another?
He looked at Momo, who continued watching him with a mix of concern and curiosity. The atmosphere was still tense, heavy, as if something invisible filled the space between them.
"Anyway," he finally said, breaking the silence. "I just want to know if before quirks, there was something else... something that was hidden."
Momo raised an eyebrow, processing what he had said. She wanted to ask more, but decided not to push him. She knew Toji wasn't the type to share his thoughts easily, and he had probably already revealed more than he was comfortable with.
Toji took a deep breath and looked away. "For now, let's focus on what we came here to do."
A small smile appeared on Momo's lips. Even though everything Toji had just told her sounded like something out of a fantasy, she knew he wasn't lying. Maybe he hadn't told her the whole truth—it was clear he was hiding many things—but he had shared enough to show that he trusted her. And that was what mattered.
"Alright, Toji-kun," she replied in a softer tone. She knew that when he was ready, he would tell her more. After all, he had already taken the first step.
Toji let out a quiet sigh and allowed his shoulders to relax slightly, though he still felt the weight of it all pressing down on him. He wasn't sure if he had done the right thing, but for now, there was no turning back.
Once outside the mansion, the cold night air hit him hard, as if reality was waking him from the trance he had been in. He walked toward the station with slow steps, dragging his gaze to the ground while his mind was tangled in a web of thoughts. "None of what happened in there was planned," he muttered under his breath, with a hint of frustration.
"It wouldn't have mattered if it was," he thought, closing his eyes tightly as if that could push away the memories threatening to surface. "I should just leave all this behind... and take another path."
For a moment, that thought seemed reasonable, even logical. Over the past year, he had felt out of place, trapped between the person he was and the one he was trying to be. But what tormented him most wasn't the present—it was his past, which he still couldn't let go of.
He remembered once again how he had accepted his last job—the one he should never have taken. He had killed a girl his own current age, all for money. He clenched his teeth as the excuses he used to tell himself resurfaced in his mind. "It's easy money," he used to repeat, as if that were enough to convince him. Now, looking back, he couldn't help but feel disgusted. "What a pathetic excuse," he thought bitterly. The truth was clear: he was nothing more than a bastard—perhaps the worst of them all.
And then there were his children. Megumi and Tsumiki—names that barely crossed his mind in those days, as if remembering them was an unnecessary burden. He had left them behind without looking back, convincing himself that it was for the best, that they would be safer without him. In a moment of cold indifference, he had even sold the boy to the same damned clan that had destroyed him, thinking that at least there, he would have a future, even if it was a miserable one.
He had wanted to believe he was doing it for their sake, that it was the right thing to do. But now, looking at the past with honesty, he understood that he had been nothing but a coward. He had run away, abandoning those who needed him the most, incapable of taking responsibility as a father, incapable of being someone worth remembering.
Guilt weighed on his chest, a burden that seemed to grow heavier with every step he took. "If only I could forget..." he thought, feeling the weight of everything he had done. But as soon as the thought arrived, he dismissed it with a firm shake of his head. "Nah, forgetting is for cowards," he muttered, almost angrily. He couldn't afford to erase what had brought him here.
He took a deep breath, gazing up at the night sky as if hoping the stars held the answers he couldn't find. He thought about his current life—a student in training to become a hero. A bitter irony, considering what he had been before.
"Should I just leave all of this behind and go back to what I do best?" he wondered, knowing exactly what that meant. He was good at being a killer—almost too good. Returning to that life would be easy, comfortable, a path he already knew. But was that really what he wanted?
His fingers curled into a fist as his mind drifted toward what could be. "Or should I keep trying to be something better?" The dilemma gnawed at him—a constant battle between who he was and who he wanted to be.
He sighed again, deeper this time, as if trying to release the weight he carried. "It's still too soon to decide," he murmured to himself, trying to convince himself that time would bring clarity.