Chapter 79: The View from the Middle of the Mountain
[Heights Alliance Dormitory - Sunday Morning]
The rain was a gentle, rhythmic drumbeat against the thick glass of Aokiji's bedroom window. It was a lazy Sunday, the kind of morning where the world outside seemed to shrink down to the borders of the U.A. campus, wrapped in a soft, grey mist.
Aokiji sat cross-legged on his bed, wearing a loose grey sweatshirt and sweatpants. In his right hand, he twirled the small, glossy plastic card—his Provisional Hero License.
The low hum of his laptop broke the quiet of the room.
"Nii-chan! Stop spinning it, it's getting blurry!"
Sayuri's voice piped through the laptop speakers, bright and demanding. On the screen, his younger sister was leaning so close to the webcam that her nose was slightly distorted.
Aokiji stopped spinning the card and held it up to the camera with a lazy smile. "Better?"
"Whoa..." Sayuri breathed out, her eyes widening in awe. "It looks so official. You look like you're half-asleep in the picture, though."
"I was," Aokiji admitted, stifling a yawn. "They took the photo at six in the morning. That's borderline illegal."
In the background of the video feed, the heavy oak doors of the manor's study opened. Mr. Kuzan walked in, holding a cup of tea. He didn't look like the rigid, terrifying CEO of the past. He wore a simple cashmere sweater, his posture relaxed.
"Is that Aokiji?" his father asked, stepping into the frame and placing a hand gently on Sayuri's shoulder. He leaned down to look at the screen. "Ah. The license. Congratulations, son."
There was a warmth in his father's voice that still caught Aokiji off guard. It wasn't the demanding expectation of a patriarch; it was the genuine pride of a parent.
"Thanks, Dad," Aokiji said, his voice softening. "How are things at home?"
"Quiet," his father smiled, taking a sip of his tea. "Your mother is attempting to bake cookies again. The kitchen staff is terrified, but we are letting her have her fun. Grandfather has been reading the newspaper... he clipped out the article about the exam results."
Aokiji chuckled, imagining the stern old man carefully cutting out a piece of newsprint. "Tell them I said hi. And tell Mom not to burn the house down."
"When are you coming to visit?" Sayuri pouted, resting her chin on her hands. "The house is too big without you being annoying."
"Next weekend, maybe," Aokiji promised, feeling a profound sense of peace settle over his chest. "I'll bring you some of the spicy mochi from the cafeteria. Be good, Sayu."
He closed the laptop, cutting the connection. The silence of his dorm room returned, but it wasn't the suffocating, lonely silence of his childhood. It was a comfortable, earned quiet.
[The Common Area - The Symphony of the Class]
Aokiji shuffled out of his room and headed down to the first floor.
The common area was a hive of relaxed, domestic activity. The smell of pancakes and brewing green tea wafted from the kitchen.
Izuku Midoriya was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a notebook balanced on his knee, his pen flying across the page at blinding speed as he muttered furiously about Gang Orca's tactical formations.
On the floor, Kirishima and Sero were playing a fighting video game, leaning aggressively into every turn of the joystick.
Near the kitchen counter, Bakugo was furiously chopping green onions, his knife skills terrifyingly fast and precise, while Kaminari watched him from a safe distance.
"Hey, Kuzan!" Kirishima called out without taking his eyes off the TV screen. "Morning, man! There's coffee in the pot!"
"Morning," Aokiji mumbled, walking over to the kitchen.
He grabbed a ceramic mug. He didn't pour the hot coffee. Instead, he walked over to the sink and filled the mug with tap water.
He stood there for a moment, looking at his reflection in the dark window. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He pushed the quirk through the pathways in his right arm, attempting to drop the temperature of the water.
Ache.
A dull, throbbing pain bloomed deep in his chest—the lingering phantom of Kamino. He winced slightly, forcing his way through the discomfort.
Crack... crackle...
It took a full seven seconds.
Before Kamino, he could have flash-frozen the entire water supply of the building in a microsecond without blinking. Now, it took him seven agonizing seconds just to turn a single mug of water into solid ice.
He let out a slow breath, opening his eyes to look at the frozen block in his mug.
"Your output is still bottlenecked, huh?"
Aokiji turned his head. Fumikage Tokoyami was standing nearby, brewing a cup of dark tea, Dark Shadow hovering quietly over his shoulder.
"Yeah," Aokiji admitted, leaning against the counter. He didn't try to hide it. There was no point in hiding anymore. "The doctors said the pathways are scarred. It's like trying to force a river through a garden hose. If I push too much pressure, the hose bursts."
Tokoyami nodded sagely, taking a sip of his tea. "A painful restriction. To fall from the absolute summit of our class... it must be a heavy burden on your pride."
Aokiji looked out at the common room.
He watched Midoriya suddenly leap off the couch, his legs sparking with green lightning as he practiced a new, high-speed pivoting technique he had learned during the exam.
He watched Bakugo snarl, small explosions popping from his palms as he aggressively seasoned a pan of eggs, his sheer combat aura practically vibrating.
He thought of Todoroki, whose flames were now burning white-hot, reaching levels of power Aokiji couldn't match right now.
Before the summer camp, Aokiji had stood above them all. He was the untouchable prodigy. The one who could freeze the entire Sports Festival stadium with a yawn.
Now?
He was probably ranked tenth in the class in terms of raw, destructive power. Maybe lower. He had fallen right into the middle of the pack.
Aokiji looked down at the mug of ice in his hand.
Slowly, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. The twitch grew into a genuine, relaxed smile. He let out a soft chuckle that made Tokoyami raise an eyebrow.
"Pride?" Aokiji asked, shaking his head. "Tokoyami, do you have any idea how exhausting it is to live at the peak of the mountain?"
Tokoyami remained silent, listening intently.
"When you're at the top, the wind is freezing, the air is thin, and you have to sleep with one eye open because everyone expects you to hold the sky up by yourself," Aokiji said softly, his dark eyes reflecting the warm lights of the kitchen.
He looked at Midoriya, who was laughing with Uraraka, and then at Bakugo, who was shouting at Kaminari to set the table.
"For the first time in my life," Aokiji continued, taking a seat on a nearby barstool, "I don't have to be the strongest. I don't have to be the prodigy who saves the day single-handedly. If a villain attacks... Midoriya can punch them. Todoroki can burn them. Bakugo can blast them."
He rested his chin on his hand, a look of profound, unburdened relief washing over his face.
"I'm just a guy in the middle now," Aokiji whispered, the tension completely leaving his shoulders. "I can just be a normal high school student. I can take my time, figure out my new fighting style, and actually learn how to be a hero instead of just acting like a living weapon."
Midoriya, having noticed Aokiji sitting at the counter, jogged over. His notebook was tucked under his arm.
"Kuzan-kun!" Midoriya smiled brightly. "I was just analyzing your fight with Gang Orca! The way you condensed your ice into that piercing shot... it was incredible! It completely bypassed the need for a massive area-of-effect attack! Your precision is evolving!"
Aokiji looked at the boy who held the power of All Might. The boy who was constantly breaking his own bones to climb the mountain Aokiji had just fallen from.
"Thanks, Midoriya," Aokiji smiled, sliding the mug of ice into the sink. "I'm trying to rely more on my brain than my muscles these days. Leave the heavy lifting to you and Bakugo."
Midoriya blinked, surprised by the humility. "But... you're still amazing, Kuzan-kun. You're still one of the best."
"Maybe," Aokiji drawled, stretching his arms over his head and letting out a loud yawn. "But right now, I'm just aiming to be the best at sleeping in on Sundays. Speaking of which..."
He stood up, patting Midoriya on the shoulder as he walked past.
"I'm going to go take a nap on the couch. Wake me up if Bakugo's cooking is actually edible."
"I HEARD THAT, YOU ICY BASTARD!" Bakugo roared from the stove, brandishing a spatula like a sword. "MY EGGS ARE FLAWLESS!"
Aokiji laughed—a real, chest-deep laugh that echoed in the warm, chaotic common room. He walked over to the oversized sofa, collapsing face-first into the plush cushions.
He closed his eyes, listening to the rain against the glass, the sound of the video game, and the bickering of his friends.
He wasn't the Ice Prince anymore. He wasn't the solitary king of the class.
He was just Kuzan. And for the first time in his life, he felt exactly where he belonged.
.
.