Chapter 27: Morning Calculus and the Weight of a Weapon
The first pale rays of dawn crept through the kitchen window, casting long shadows across the quiet apartment.
Sakazuki sat at the small, scratched dining table. His broad shoulders were hunched forward, and his large, calloused hand—the same hand that had melted a bio-engineered nightmare just days prior—was carefully gripping a standard ballpoint pen. He was deeply focused on a worn ledger, meticulously calculating the weekly expenses for Sweet Petals. He cross-referenced the cost of flour and sugar against their meager daily profits, searching for any viable margin to help chip away at their mounting debt before he even thought about eating breakfast.
Soft footsteps padded down the narrow hallway.
His mother entered the kitchen. She wore her usual faded apron, her face carrying a bright, morning energy. There was no trace of the terrifying physical collapse she had suffered behind closed doors the night before; she wore a flawless mask of vitality, crafted specifically to shield her son from worry.
She paused near the counter, watching him work in the dim light, before glancing up at the old wall clock.
"What are you doing so early?" she asked, her voice carrying a gentle lilt as she walked over to the table. "You only have half an hour left before school starts. You are going to be late."
Sakazuki didn't look up from the columns of numbers. "I am almost finished here. Just balancing the remaining overhead costs."
A soft, affectionate smile graced her tired features. She reached down and, with surprising ease, gently pulled the pen right out of his firm grip.
Sakazuki blinked, looking up at her in mild confusion. "What is the matter?"
Instead of answering immediately, she gestured toward the small television sitting on the kitchen counter. The morning news broadcast had just cut to a flashy, high-octane promotional teaser. Bold, colorful letters flashed across the screen, announcing the upcoming U.A. Sports Festival, hyping it up as the premier event of the year.
Her smile widened, her amber eyes reflecting a deep, unwavering pride. "The Sports Festival is practically at our doorstep. You need every single second of your time and energy to prepare for it. Leave the responsibility of the shop to me this week."
Sakazuki frowned slightly, his pragmatic mind immediately rejecting the idea of her working alone. "But the supply orders and the heavy lifting—"
"No buts," she interrupted, her tone brokering no argument. She placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "This is your future, Sakazuki. Focus on your training."
The strict, unyielding discipline that usually hardened his features slowly melted away under the warmth of her gaze. A rare, genuinely soft smile touched his lips. He didn't argue further. He simply nodded, picked up his heavy school bag, and headed for the door, leaving her to watch his departing back with a mixture of immense pride and a quiet, hidden ache.
Hours later, the loud, piercing ring of the midday bell echoed through the halls of U.A. High School.
Class 1-A instantly erupted into a chaotic buzz of activity. The heavy, lingering trauma of the villain attack was entirely overshadowed by the looming prospect of the festival. Desks were pushed together as students enthusiastically debated training regimens, support gear regulations, and the best ways to stand out to the pro agencies watching from the stands.
Sakazuki stood up from his desk in the back row. He ignored the rising volume in the room, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and began walking toward the sliding door.
"Sakazuki! Hold on a second!"
He stopped and turned to see Eijiro Kirishima jogging toward him, a bright, jagged grin on his face.
"I'm heading to the cafeteria to fuel up before the afternoon drills," Kirishima offered, gesturing toward the hallway. "Let's go together!"
It was a casual, everyday invitation, but it marked a massive shift. The barrier of fear that had once isolated Sakazuki from his peers was gone. They no longer saw him as a terrifying, unapproachable force; they saw him as a reliable pillar of their class.
"I am not going to the cafeteria right now, honestly," Sakazuki replied, his tone blunt but polite. "I have a specific matter to attend to."
Kirishima halted, blinking in mild surprise at the direct refusal. "Oh, alright. Well, good luck with whatever it is! Catch you in the afternoon!"
Sakazuki offered a brief nod and stepped out of the classroom.
The corridors of U.A. were anything but quiet. The hallways were practically overflowing with students from all departments and years. Second-year students loudly discussed making up for their past failures, while third-years boasted about the early draft offers they aimed to secure. The air was thick with competitive tension, excitement, and a fierce hunger for glory.
Sakazuki navigated through the dense crowds smoothly, his towering height parting the sea of students with ease. He paid no attention to the enthusiastic chatter or the speculative whispers that occasionally followed him. His mind was entirely preoccupied with a severe tactical flaw in his current arsenal.
He moved away from the bustling student wings and entered the quiet, pristine corridors of the administrative building, eventually stopping in front of a large, polished mahogany door.
He raised his hand and knocked twice.
"Come in!" a cheerful, high-pitched voice called out from the other side.
Sakazuki opened the door and stepped into the spacious office. Principal Nezu sat behind a massive desk, carefully pouring himself a cup of steaming tea.
The tall teenager closed the door behind him, cutting off the faint noise from the distant hallways. He stepped forward, his posture rigid and formal. He had not come here to ask for training facilities or special privileges. He was here to report a hazard.
"Principal Nezu," Sakazuki began, his deep voice carrying a grave, uncompromising seriousness. "I have a critical concern regarding my participation in the upcoming festival. My quirk is not designed for suppression, capture, or scoring points. It is inherently lethal."
Nezu paused, setting his teacup down slowly. His small, intelligent eyes locked onto the towering student, giving him his full attention.
"During the breach at the simulation joint, I deployed my quirk against a bio-engineered target. The result was instantaneous carbonization and structural melting," Sakazuki stated, his face a mask of cold reality. "If I ignite my heat against my classmates in a sanctioned tournament, I risk inflicting permanent, catastrophic burns or worse. I am requesting administrative guidance on how to proceed without turning a school event into a fatal incident."
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Happy Eid To all Muslim readers, and for non Muslim May Allah bless your day and I wish you're enjoying all with the story ^ ^