Whisper

The bell rang.

Students poured through the school gates like a tide—laughing, groaning, chatting about homework, crushes, and the latest hero rankings. In the midst of the energy, Shin Karasuma moved through the crowd with his usual calm stride, bag slung over one shoulder, a slight smile on his lips.

He looked like any other student.

But under his blazer sleeve, he still felt the faint tingling sensation from last night's lightning burst.

The fight.

The villain.

The knockout.

No one had seen his face. He made sure of it. But the moment still buzzed inside him—adrenaline and quiet pride battling with the weight of what he'd done. He shouldn't have stepped in. It was reckless. Dangerous. Illegal, even.

But he didn't regret it.

"Yo! Shin!"

A blur of strawberry-blonde hair appeared beside him. Yuki Takamine practically bounced with excitement, nearly knocking into him. "Did you see the news this morning?! Some vigilante zapped a villain downtown!"

Shin blinked innocently. "Really?"

"Dude," Toma Nishida added, yawning as he strolled up behind them, his tie still half-untied. "It was all over the TV. Blitzed the guy in, like, five seconds. Blue lightning. The media's calling him 'Phantom Spark' or something cheesy like that."

Shin gave a soft chuckle. "That's... a little dramatic."

"I think it's kinda cool," Yuki said, eyes practically glowing. "No name, no face—just pow, zap, bam! Hero stuff! I bet he's, like, a dropout from U.A. or some underground pro who's too edgy for the law!"

"Or," came a quieter voice, "he could be someone who doesn't want the attention."

Shiro Hanabusa stepped beside Shin, his expression unreadable as always, eyes calmly sweeping over the group.

Yuki snorted. "You say that like you know him."

Shiro didn't respond, but his gaze lingered on Shin a second longer than usual. Shin felt the stare like a spotlight. He met it briefly—then looked away, casual, smooth.

He's sharp… too sharp.

They reached their classroom. Shin slipped into his seat, stretching slightly and glancing at the blackboard. But the moment he looked up, a group of students at the front started chatting loudly again.

"Did you guys see how fast he was?"

"One strike! The villain didn't even have time to blink!"

"I swear, I saw a lightning flash right outside my apartment last night—it must've been him!"

More whispers. More speculation.

And all the while, Shin sat quietly, propping his chin on his hand, eyes half-lidded as if only half-interested.

Inside, he was smiling.

Not with ego, but with the strange comfort of knowing he did what needed to be done.

Still, it was a dangerous game.

One mistake, one witness too sharp, one camera angle too clear—and his secret would be out. He'd be questioned, labeled, maybe even blacklisted from U.A.

No, he told himself. Not yet. Not until I'm strong enough to protect everything.

He turned toward the window as the morning sun streamed in. A new day had begun, but the city was still buzzing with rumors of a boy cloaked in lightning.

And no one suspected the quiet student sitting near the back of the Classroom

Not yet.

******

The classroom buzzed with energy as the last bell of the day rang.

"Finally!" Yuki stretched dramatically, her strawberry-blonde ponytail bouncing. "If I had to listen to one more minute of that math lecture, I was gonna explode!"

"You almost did," Toma said from beside Shin, lazily packing his bag. "I could hear your brain short-circuiting."

"Excuse you—my brain was in self-preservation mode." She jabbed a finger at her temple. "Totally different."

Shin chuckled softly, zipping up his bag. "You were drawing hero costume designs the whole time."

"Research!" she said, puffing her cheeks. "Visual learning helps me concentrate."

"You drew one for me that had a cape made of lightning," Shin replied, amused.

"Yeah! You'd look awesome in it!" Yuki flashed a thumbs-up. "You've got the vibe of someone who's secretly strong."

Shiro, leaning against the window with his arms crossed, spoke up for the first time. "He doesn't need a cape. People with real power don't need to show it."

The group paused. Toma raised an eyebrow. "That sounded way more intense than it needed to be."

Shiro shrugged. "Just saying."

Shin gave a quiet smile, but didn't reply. If only they knew.

The rooftop during lunch had become their usual hangout. Today, Yuki had brought homemade onigiri, Toma was nibbling convenience store bread, and Shin had his bento, neatly packed by his mom.

"You're like a walking anime protagonist with that lunch," Yuki commented between bites. "What even is that egg roll? It looks fancy."

"My mom uses a special recipe," Shin said. "She says the secret's in the dashi."

"She should open a restaurant," Toma mumbled, mouth full.

Shiro said nothing, but quietly stole one of Yuki's onigiri when she wasn't looking.

"HEY!" she yelled. "Give it back, you rice thief!"

Shin laughed. It was easy to smile around them.

That evening, back home, Shin stepped into the kitchen and greeted his mom with a warm, "I'm home."

"Welcome back, Shin!" she said cheerfully. "Dinner will be ready in a bit. Could you help me slice the vegetables?"

"Sure." He took the cutting board and got to work beside her.

His dad peeked out from the living room. "You kids talk about that 'Phantom Spark' today?"

Shin kept his voice level. "A bit. It's all over the news."

His mom laughed. "Some folks think he's a hero in training. You'd love that, huh?"

"Yeah," Shin said, smiling faintly. "That would be cool."

Later that night, when the house had gone quiet, Shin stood behind the hill near the neighborhood's edge, rolling his shoulders.

"Alright," he muttered to himself. "One hour of speed, then discharge drills."

Sparks danced across his skin.

He sprinted—bolts flashing with each step.

Jumped—lightning lacing through the air.

Struck the training dummy he had set up with a clean, glowing punch.

Boom.

It shattered into pieces.

"Still too much power," he muttered, brushing ash from his arm. "Control. Control."

He sat down, panting, watching faint lightning flicker between his fingers.

"Gotta stay sharp. I'm four years away from U.A. That's not a lot of time."

His voice dropped, thoughtful.

"And now there's a nickname on the news. 'Phantom Spark'? That's so cringe…"

He groaned, flopping back onto the grass, arms sprawled.

"They're gonna call me that forever, aren't they?"

Then, after a beat of silence, he smiled.

"…Still worth it."