The rain tapped lightly on the bedroom window. It wasn't stormy, just a calm, rhythmic drizzle that carried a kind of peace with it.
Takao sat cross-legged on his bed, a pair of wornout drumsticks spinning between his fingers. His room smelled faintly of cedar and clean laundry. With Posters of old-old-school rock and metal bands, and a few underground pro heroes lining his walls.
A modest electric drum kit sat in the corner near his desk, wires neatly coiled and a pair of headphones resting on the frame.
Right now, he wasn't hitting the pads. He just twirled the sticks idly, letting the tactile rhythm keep his mind from wandering too far.
'It's been a week, since the exam.' He thought with a frown on his face.
Since he lit up a Zero Pointer like the God thunder he's become.
He exhaled through his nose, the memory still fresh. The blinding golden arcs of lightning, the roar of the impact, the moment of silence after the finishing blow.
All of a sudden a knock came, well barely a knock, more like the rapid-fire bangging of someone too excited to wait.
"Takaooo!" his mother's voice came muffled through the door. He barely had time to blink before the door slammed open.
His mum barreled in like a crazy train, hair with her hair wild, eyes wide with excitement, and clutching a sleek white envelope with the U.A. crest stamped in shining gold.
"It's here, it's here, it's here!" she half-shouted, waving the envelope like a trophy.
"The results came!"
Takao blinked, then stared at her. "You kicked my door open."
"Don't care," she shot back, almost bouncing on the spot. "Come on! Open it! Hurry up!"
"I'm not gonna die if I open it thirty seconds later."
"You might if you don't open it right now," she said, jabbing the envelope toward him again.
Takao huffed a quiet laugh and stood from his bed. He took the envelope and turned it over in his hands. The paper was heavy, embossed, with the kind of authority only U.A. could pack into a letter.
He slit it open and a holographic disk slid into his lap. "…Fancy," he muttered.
His mother tilted her head. "Do you put that in your laptop?"
"I think it activates on its own, though you might wanna step back."
She raised a brow. "What, do you think it's going to explode?"
"I hope not, but if Present Mic's voice is half as loud as he was during the exam, my ears are gonna bleed."
Right on cue, the disk whirred and lifted an inch into the air. A glowing projection flickered into life above it.
"YEEEEEAAAHHH! WHAT'S UP, TAKAO ARASHI?! PRESENT MIC IN THE HOOOOOUUUSE!"
Takao flinched. "Knew it."
His mum covered her mouth to suppress a snort, eyes glued to the hologram.
"You did GREAT in the entrance exam, kiddo! Let's break it down!"
The image flashed to several clips from the battle: Takao blitzing across the battlefield with golden lightning trailing behind him, tearing through robots like a living storm. His fists crushed a 3-Pointer's chest; his kicks shattered limbs. The screen paused mid-explosion as the Storm Breaker blast annihilated the Zero Pointer.
"And what do we call that, folks?! That's PLUS ULTRA!"
Takao rubbed at his temples. "Was he always this loud?"
"I like him," his mum grinned.
"Of course you do." He muttered staring at her blankly.
The scene changed again, now showing a
simple scoreboard:
Combat points: 86
Rescue points: 14
Final score: 100
Overall ranking: 1st place
Both of them stared.
His mum blinked. "Wait… wait hold on. You—you got first place?"
Takao stared, a moment longer before slowly exhaling. "Huh."
She smacked him lightly on the arm. "Huh?! That's all you have to say?! You demolished the exam!"
"I figured I did alright."
His mum rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile spreading across her face. "You did more than 'alright,' Takao. You ranked first at U.A.—the best hero school in Japan. That's insane!"
"Guess the training paid off."
She stepped closer, tone softening. "All those early mornings, running till your legs gave out, practicing till you couldn't see straight… You worked harder than anyone I know. You earned this."
He was quiet for a moment, absorbing her words like they were still sinking in. His fingers tapped absently against his thigh a nervous tick he didn't even noticed.
Then, his mum smiled and gently took his face in both hands. "I'm proud of you."
He blinked, just a little startled.
She laughed at his expression. "Come on, you think I wasn't going to say it? You're my son. You've gone through so much… and now you're going to be a hero."
Takao gave a small smile in return, rare and warm. "Thanks, Mum."
She sighed and stepped back, wiping at her eyes as though she wasn't tearing up. "God, I feel old. My little guy's going to U.A."
He snorted. "You're not even forty."
"I feel forty."
They stood in silence for a few seconds before she gave him a playful nudge. "Well? What are you gonna do now, Mr. Number One?"
He walked back toward his desk, picked up his drumsticks, and twirled one absentmindedly. "Train."
She blinked. "Train?"
"I still have three weeks. Just because I got in doesn't mean I'm done improving."
"You could take a break."
He looked at her over his shoulder. "I don't want to slow down now."
She tilted her head, watching him. He wasn't just focused he was determined. Driven.
And he'd grown so much, physically and mentally. Taller. Stronger. More confident. Still her son, but…different now.
"…Alright," she said softly. "But at least eat something before you go electrocuting yourself again."
He gave her a quick grin. "Deal."
.
.
.
Later that night
The rain continued to fall, steady and cool.
Takao sat at his desk once more, the golden disc now placed beside his textbooks and training notebook. The words "U.A. Acceptance" glimmered faintly in the low light.
He drummed softly against the edge of his desk just a simple but calm rhythm. He set the sticks down, leaned back, and looked toward the ceiling.
Tomorrow, training resumed.
But tonight? Tonight he'd allow himself one quiet moment to breathe.