Tomoya's POV
The party was a grand affair, as one might expect from the esteemed Yaoyorozu family. The chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow across the ballroom, their light dancing off the polished marble floors like stars reflecting on still water. Soft classical music played in the background, the elegant notes of violins and cellos blending seamlessly with the murmur of polite conversations and the occasional burst of refined laughter. The air was perfumed with the subtle scent of fresh flowers arranged in towering vases at every corner.
Seated at a table with Mrs. Yaoyorozu and Ms. Yaoyorozu, I found myself thoroughly enjoying our conversation. They were both intelligent and kind, their words filled with wisdom and warmth that reminded me of the aristocratic families back in my former world. Ms. Yaoyorozu especially had a way of making everyone feel valued when she spoke.
"The event has turned out beautifully, hasn't it?" Ms. Yaoyorozu remarked, her gaze sweeping over the room with quiet pride in her eyes.
"It truly has," I replied with a smile, feeling strangely at ease despite the formal setting. "You've outdone yourselves. The decor is stunning, and the atmosphere is so inviting—like stepping into another world entirely."
Across the room, I caught sight of Raiden and Momo. They were running off toward the buffet table, their faces alight with laughter. My heart swelled at the sight. It was moments like these that reminded me how precious these fleeting, peaceful times were. Raiden looked so carefree, so different from the serious, guarded child he usually was. With Momo, he seemed to shed the weight of his experiences, if only temporarily.
"They're such good kids," Ms. Yaoyorozu commented with a smile, her eyes softening as she watched them.
"They really are," I replied warmly. "It's been a joy watching them grow closer. Momo has a special way of bringing out the best in people."
"They're inseparable, those two," Mrs. Yaoyorozu commented, following my gaze with an amused expression. "Like magnets drawn together whenever they're in the same room."
I nodded, feeling a swell of maternal pride. "They are. Momo has been a wonderful influence on Raiden. It's rare to see him open up so easily to someone. He's usually so cautious around others."
"Indeed. Momo has such a hard time connecting with others her age," Mrs. Yaoyorozu agreed with a knowing smile. "She's always been more comfortable with adults or books. It's good to see her interact with someone else her age who appreciates her intelligence rather than being intimidated by it."
"Young love in bloom," Iroh chimed in, stroking his beard with a mischievous glint in his eyes that made me want to roll my own. "Raiden is already making his move. I knew he had my good looks."
I couldn't help but chuckle at his playful boasting, while Ms. Yaoyorozu blushed faintly, bringing a delicate hand to her cheek.
"Your good looks, Iroh?" I teased, giving him a gentle nudge with my elbow. "Be serious. He got his charm from me, obviously."
Mrs. Yaoyorozu groaned dramatically, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated look of horror. "Absolutely not. My Momo is far too young for any of this nonsense. In fact, she's not allowed to date until she's in her thirties, no, her forties! Perhaps we should consider separate academies after all."
At this, Ms. Yaoyorozu reached over and pinched his side sharply, making him yelp like a wounded puppy. The sight was so comical I had to stifle a laugh behind my hand.
"Stop saying such ridiculous things," she scolded, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. "I will have my grandchildren someday, and you'll be delighted when the time comes. Don't pretend otherwise."
Iroh, sitting to my left, let out a contented sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul. He patted his stomach lightly and grinned. "The food here is exquisite, but perhaps a bit too rich for me. I think I've overindulged. A cup of jasmine tea would do me wonders right now." He flagged down a passing waiter with a gentle wave. "Could I trouble you for some tea? Jasmine, if you have it. Properly steeped, not rushed."
I chuckled softly, gesturing to the waiter as well. "Make those two cups, please. Uncle's wisdom about tea has rubbed off on me over the years."
Iroh chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth. "Hear, hear! Let the young ones enjoy their innocence while they can. But when the time comes, I'll teach them all the proper courting rituals—over tea, of course. Nothing builds a relationship like sharing a good cup of jasmine under the moonlight."
Mrs. Yaoyorozu muttered something about keeping his daughter locked away in the house until she was thirty, earning him another sharp pinch from his wife that made him wince theatrically.
The humor and warmth of the exchange eased my mind, if only briefly. For a moment, I could almost forget the constant vigilance that had become second nature to me since arriving in this world. Almost.
The waiter bowed politely and left to fulfill our request, his steps silent on the polished floor. As we waited, more guests began to approach our table, drawn by the presence of the Yaoyorozu family like moths to a flame. Before long, I found myself answering a slew of polite, albeit slightly invasive, questions that required careful navigation.
"You look far too young to be a mother," an older gentleman remarked, his keen eyes studying me over the rim of his gold-rimmed glasses with barely concealed curiosity.
I inclined my head slightly, offering a gracious smile that I hoped concealed my discomfort at the scrutiny. "You're too kind. I suppose I am fortunate to age gracefully. Good genes, perhaps."
"And your attire," a woman interjected, her tone filled with curiosity as her eyes swept over my traditional kimono. "It's so traditional. You don't see much of that anymore, especially at events like this. Is it a family tradition?"
"It is," I replied calmly, running my fingers over the silk fabric. "For me, wearing traditional clothing is a way of staying connected to my roots. It reminds me of where I come from and the values I hold dear. There's something comforting about maintaining traditions in a world that changes so rapidly."
Their questions soon shifted to my personal life, probing in ways that required careful deflection.
"Being a single mother must be difficult," another woman said sympathetically, though her eyes gleamed with the kind of curiosity that bordered on gossip-seeking.
"There are challenges," I admitted, keeping my voice steady despite the unwelcome prying. "But the joys far outweigh them. My son is my light, and every step we take together makes the journey worthwhile. We have a strong support system as well." I glanced meaningfully at Iroh, who nodded with understanding.
As I spoke, Mrs. Yaoyorozu rose from her seat with the grace of someone accustomed to commanding attention, gesturing toward a group of well-dressed women gathered near one of the towering floral arrangements. "Tamayo, come with me. I'd like to introduce you to some friends of mine. They've heard about your work in medical research and are eager to meet you. I believe you'll find their conversation more stimulating."
I excused myself with relief and followed her, soon finding myself surrounded by warm introductions and polite conversations about medical advancements and research funding. It was then that I noticed two familiar faces approaching through the crowd—Dr. Kauro Takamura and Hana Fujimoto, colleagues from the research institute.
"Dr. Tamayo," Kauro greeted warmly, bowing his head slightly, his silver-streaked hair catching the light.
"Kauro, Hana," I replied, relief washing over me at seeing friendly, familiar faces. "It's good to see you both. I didn't expect you here tonight."
"We've made excellent progress on the projects," Hana said, her excitement evident in the way she leaned forward slightly, keeping her voice low enough that only our small circle could hear. "Thanks to the Yaoyorozu family's sponsorship, we've been able to accelerate the timelines significantly. The regenerative tissue samples are showing remarkable stability."
"That's wonderful news," I said, genuinely pleased by the development. "We'll need to ensure the final phases are executed just as smoothly. The applications could be revolutionary for trauma patients."
Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden commotion that rippled through the elegant gathering. The sound of raised voices and the murmur of a growing crowd drew my attention like a magnetic pull. My heart clenched as I caught snippets of the crowd's words, each one landing like a stone in my stomach.
"Villain," someone said sharply, the word cutting through the refined atmosphere.
"Is that a kid they're fighting?" another voice questioned, disbelief evident in their tone.
Mrs. Yaoyorozu frowned deeply, her brow furrowing with concern. "What's going on?"
One of his security team approached swiftly, his posture rigid as he bowed slightly before speaking. "Sir, there's a fight breaking out in the east garden. It seems the heroes are engaged with a small boy. The situation is escalating rapidly."
My heart sank like a stone, and a wave of dread washed over me, cold and paralyzing. Reaching out with my senses, I felt the unmistakable presence of Raiden's chakra pulsing through the air. It was fluctuating wildly, unstable and raw, like a wounded animal lashing out. The signature was familiar yet distorted, tinged with something dark and dangerous that made my breath catch.
"Iroh," I whispered, my voice trembling with the effort of remaining composed.
He turned to me immediately, his eyes sharp with concern, all traces of earlier joviality gone. "What is it?"
"It's Raiden," I said, my chest tightening painfully as the realization solidified. "He's the one fighting. I can feel his chakra—it's unstable."
Ms. Yaoyorozu gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. "Raiden? That can't be. Why would the heroes fight a child? There must be some mistake."
Around us, the other guests fell silent, their faces mirroring Ms. Yaoyorozu's shock and confusion as the news spread like wildfire through whispers and concerned glances.
Mrs. Yaoyorozu's expression darkened, his jaw setting with determination. "This is unacceptable. Security, intervene immediately. Contact the authorities and find out what's happening. No child should be engaged by pro heroes without proper cause."
The cheers and shouts from the crowd grew louder, their intensity stoking my anxiety to unbearable levels. Without thinking, I began moving toward the source of the commotion, my feet carrying me forward with desperate urgency.
"Tomoya, wait!" Iroh called after me, rising to follow with surprising speed for a man his age.
The four White Lotus guards closed ranks around me like a protective shell, their presence a silent reassurance that I wasn't alone. Behind us, the Yaoyorozu family and two of their security staff followed closely, their footsteps hurried yet measured.
The closer we got, the louder the noise became, transforming from distant murmurs to a roaring cacophony. I could hear the crowd chanting and shouting, their words blending into a discordant symphony that set my nerves on edge. Raiden's chakra flared again, sharp and fierce like a wounded predator, and my heart ached with worry for what might have triggered such a response.
"Hold on, my son," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. "I'm coming. Just hold on a little longer."
As we pushed through the growing crowd, an oppressive wave of killing intent crashed down on us like a tidal wave, nearly driving me to my knees. My breath hitched at the sheer weight of it—it was suffocating, like standing in the center of a storm with the air being systematically stripped from your lungs. Around us, people fell to their knees, gasping for air like drowning victims, while others fainted outright, collapsing in heaps on the tile flooring.
"What is this?" Mrs. Yaoyorozu murmured, his voice strained as he clutched at his chest, fighting to remain upright.
"Stay strong," Iroh said, his voice calm but commanding despite the pressure. He placed a steadying hand on Mrs. Yaoyorozu's shoulder before addressing the guards. "Assist them. We must move forward. Focus your breathing and center yourselves."
The guards, unwavering in their duty, supported the Yaoyorozus, helping them out of their dazed state with practiced efficiency. Iroh, his expression grim as stone, turned to me. "Tomoya, is this...?"
"Yes," I whispered, my voice trembling with the confirmation I didn't want to give. "It's Raiden. This is his chakra, but something's wrong—it's different, darker."
A fresh wave of anxiety gripped me, squeezing my heart in an iron fist, and I quickened my pace, pushing through the invisible weight pressing down on us. My heart pounded in my chest like a war drum, each beat a desperate prayer for my son's safety. The oppressive chakra surged again, sharper this time, like a blade cutting through the very air, and I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay focused despite the primal fear it evoked.
As I reached the clearing at the center of the crowd, the sight before me stopped me dead in my tracks, stealing the breath from my lungs. My son—my beautiful, gentle boy—was on all fours, his small body trembling violently as if seized by an invisible force. His clothes were battered and torn, hanging from his frame in tatters, and his face was streaked with blood tears that ran like crimson rivers down his pale cheeks, dripping onto the grass beneath him.
What truly shattered me were his eyes.
The crimson glow of his Sharingan stared back at me, the three tomoe within them spinning like a whirlpool of darkness. My heart sank at the sight. Three tomoe. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not yet. Not so soon.
I knew what the Sharingan represented—what it cost to awaken it fully. For all three tomoe to appear so soon… it meant he had endured something unbearable, something that had wounded his soul deeply. The Sharingan wasn't just a power; it was the reflection of a soul that had suffered, the physical manifestation of emotional trauma too great to bear.
"No," I whispered, my hands trembling uncontrollably at my sides. "It's too early… far too early."
The Sharingan wasn't meant to awaken all three tomoe until much later, developing gradually with age and experience, each tomoe marking a significant emotional catalyst. At this stage, he should only have unlocked the first tomoe, if any at all. But now, all three tomoe shone back at me, a harbinger of the intense emotional storm he must have endured, a testament to pain no child should ever know.
"Raiden," I called softly, my voice breaking on his name like glass shattering.
His head snapped toward me with inhuman speed, and our gazes locked across the space between us. His crimson eyes, filled with so much anguish, hope, and desperate recognition, pierced through me like physical blows.
"Mama," he whispered, his voice trembling and raw, as if he'd been screaming. It sounded so fragile—so small and lost that it barely carried across the distance between us.
My heart broke further at the sound, splintering into a thousand pieces at the naked vulnerability in that single word.
I took a step forward, ready to reach him, to hold him, to shield him from whatever had caused this, to tell him everything would be okay even if I wasn't sure it would be. But before I could take another step, a searing burst of heat caught my attention, the air around us suddenly crackling with superheated intensity.
"Get back!" someone shouted, their voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
I barely had time to react as a massive net of flames hurtled toward my son, the fire so intense it turned the air itself into a wavering mirage. My heart leaped into my throat, choking me with terror.
"Raiden!" Iroh's voice boomed like thunder as he stepped forward with surprising speed, a wave of his arm slicing through the fiery net with practiced precision. The flames dissipated into harmless embers that drifted away on the night breeze, but my blood boiled with rage at the attack.
Only then did I notice the towering figure of Endeavor standing nearby, his flame beard casting harsh shadows across his hard, unyielding expression. His eyes were cold despite the fire that surrounded him, showing no remorse for attacking a child. I didn't care about his rank or reputation in that moment—all I saw was a threat to my son.
As the last embers flickered out, Raiden's chakra began to wane, the oppressive pressure lifting like a storm passing. The red cloak that had half-covered him faded, flickering like a dying ember, and his crimson eyes dulled, returning to their normal black as exhaustion claimed him.
"Raiden," I whispered again, rushing to him with desperate speed.
His small body trembled violently as I knelt, catching him just before he collapsed completely. Cradling him tightly against my chest, I brought him into my arms, shielding him from the world with my body as if I could protect him from everything that had already happened.
"Shh, it's okay," I whispered, my voice quivering as I held him close, feeling his rapid heartbeat against mine. "Mama's here now. You're safe. I've got you."
I placed my hand gently on his chest, activating my Mystic Palm Technique with practiced ease. A faint green glow enveloped my hand as I began to assess his injuries, my medical training taking over despite the emotional storm raging inside me.
What I found made my blood run cold, each discovery worse than the last.
Ripped muscles stretched across his tiny frame, strained to the point of near-tearing, the fibers frayed like old rope. Cracked bones littered his arms and legs, each one a painful reminder of his struggle, fine fractures spiderwebbing through his still-developing skeleton. Damaged blood vessels frayed from the strain of his chakra, threatening internal bleeding in multiple locations. But worst of all were his eyes—his precious, beautiful eyes. The nerves were frayed and inflamed, overtaxed from the sudden awakening of his Sharingan. He would be blind for months, his vision taken from him by whatever horror had triggered this transformation.
Tears welled in my own eyes as I choked back a sob that threatened to tear me apart from within. "My baby boy..."
Before I could say more, a loud cry pierced through the tension, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd like a knife.
"Mom! Dad!"
I turned my head sharply to see Momo burst through the crowd, running toward her parents with desperate speed. Her face was pale as porcelain, streaked with tears that poured freely as she threw herself into her father's arms, her usual composure completely shattered.
"Papa!" she sobbed, clutching his suit desperately as if he were her lifeline in a stormy sea. "It's all my fault! I… I didn't mean to! I didn't know what to do! They wouldn't stop!"
Her father knelt immediately, wrapping his strong arms around her trembling frame, his voice low and soothing despite the tension radiating from him. "It's okay, Momo. Calm down, sweetheart. Take a breath and tell us what happened. We're here now."
Momo buried her face into his chest, her words muffled and broken as she tried to explain through her tears. "They… they called Raiden a villain! He just wanted to help, but they wouldn't listen! They kept yelling, and then the heroes—they attacked him when he was just trying to protect me from those awful boys!"
"Hush, my darling," her mother said, kneeling beside them both and stroking Momo's hair as tears welled in her own eyes. "Take your time. We're here now. You're safe, and we'll make this right."
Momo clung to her father tighter, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her emotions. Slowly, between heart-wrenching sobs, she managed to recount everything—the taunts, the accusations, and how Raiden had been forced to defend himself when the situation escalated beyond what any child should have to handle.
Mrs. Yaoyorozu's face darkened as she listened, her lips pressed into a thin line, fury building behind her usually gentle eyes. "This… this is unacceptable," she said, her voice trembling with controlled fury that promised consequences.
I glanced down at Raiden, who was now unconscious in my arms, his face peaceful despite the trauma his body had endured, and felt my resolve harden like steel. "This will not happen again," I said softly, my voice carrying a promise of protection that went beyond mere words.
Iroh stood tall beside me, his gaze like tempered steel as he faced Endeavor across the clearing. "You've made a grave mistake today," he said, his tone as calm as it was deadly. "Attacking a child is beneath the honor of any true hero."
Endeavor looked ready to respond, his flame beard flaring with his anger, but whatever excuses he might have made were drowned out by the growing outrage of the Yaoyorozus and the murmuring crowd that had witnessed the aftermath of his actions.
As the chaos swirled around us like a gathering storm, I held my son tighter, pressing a kiss to his forehead and tasting the salt of tears—whether his or mine, I couldn't tell. "Rest now, my love," I whispered against his skin, a promise meant for his ears alone. "Mama will keep you safe. No matter what it takes."
Iroh POV
As Momo finished recounting the events, her father's expression darkened. The Yaoyorozu patriarch was not a man easily angered, but hearing how these boys had started everything and dragged heroes into their pettiness was enough to stoke a fire in his otherwise composed demeanor.
He placed a steady hand on his daughter's shoulder and asked gently, "Can you point them out, sweetheart?"
Momo nodded, sniffling as she raised a trembling hand, pointing directly toward Lickter and his group of cronies, who were now shuffling uneasily near the edge of the crowd.
The moment her finger singled them out, the boys panicked. Their eyes darted to each other before they bolted in unison, hoping to escape the consequences of their actions.
"Not so fast," I muttered, giving a subtle nod to one of the White Lotus guards standing nearby.
The guard, a skilled metalbender, raised his arms. With a fluid motion, the five metal bands coiled around his upper arms shot outward like snakes, expanding and spinning through the air with remarkable precision.
The metallic rings opened mid-flight, stretching and reshaping into flexible but unyielding restraints. They snapped shut around the wrists and ankles of the fleeing boys, pulling them to a halt in one synchronized motion.
"What the—! Let me go!" Lickter shouted, thrashing as the bands yanked him back. His companions fared no better, each captured with ease. Their struggles only tightened the restraints, like turtle-ducks fighting against a net.
The guard gave a slight flick of his wrist, and the five captured boys were dragged forward, skidding to a stop at the group's feet, dust billowing around their heels as they landed unceremoniously before us.
"Impressive," Mr. Yaoyorozu remarked, his tone sharp with disapproval. He leaned down slightly, glaring at the restrained troublemakers. "You'll regret your behavior soon enough."
Momo sniffled, then hesitated before pointing toward the heroes who had engaged Raiden. Her delicate finger trembled in the air, betraying her unease at calling out adults in positions of authority.
Her voice trembled as she explained, "Those three... they tried to fight Raiden. They didn't listen when I told them he was defending himself."
Our attention shifted to the so-called heroes, each in various states of defeat and disarray.
The first one lay unconscious on the ground, his jaw grotesquely swollen and clearly broken. His limbs sprawled in an ungainly heap, evidence of his utter defeat. A small pool of drool mixed with blood had formed beneath his slack mouth.
The second, a wiry man, was upright but battered. Bruises covered his face like a painter's palette of purples and yellows, and he clutched his ribs, his labored breathing betraying the extent of his injuries. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, painting a grim picture of his failed attempt to subdue a child. His eyes darted nervously around, avoiding direct contact with anyone present.
The third hero stood seemingly unharmed, a smug expression plastered on his face as if he were the victor in all this chaos. But it was impossible to take him seriously—not because of his confidence, but because of his costume.
It wasn't damaged at all, yet its garish, clashing colors and excessive sparkles made it nearly unbearable to look at. Bright neon green stripes crisscrossed a blindingly orange background, accented with sequins that shimmered in the light like a disco ball. A ridiculous, oversized emblem of a smiling sun sat awkwardly on his chest, completing the visual assault that seemed designed to offend every principle of aesthetic harmony.
I heard Mr. Yaoyorozu mutter under his breath, "That costume alone should be a crime against public decency."
I raised an eyebrow, a bemused smirk creeping onto my face. "Perhaps it's his secret weapon—blind his enemies with bad taste. A strategy as old as tea leaves, but rarely executed with such... commitment."
Even in the tense moment, I couldn't suppress a chuckle at that, the absurdity providing a momentary respite from the gravity of the situation.
"Hard to look at, isn't it?" Mr. Yaoyorozu commented dryly, his eyes locked on the third hero's pathetic state. "Like staring directly at the sun, but somehow worse for your sensibilities."
The hero flinched, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing in return. The sequins on his costume caught the light as his shoulders tensed, sending tiny rainbows dancing across the dirt.
I stepped forward, raising a hand for silence as the crowd began murmuring. My tone was calm, but it carried the weight of authority that comes from decades of command. "Enough of this spectacle. It's time we get to the truth of what happened here. Justice requires clarity, not confusion."
The scent of scorched air hung heavy as I surveyed the aftermath. Charred tile and stone crunched beneath my feet, and the metallic tang of blood mingled with the acrid smell of smoke. Tamayo knelt, her arms wrapped protectively around Raiden's small, battered frame. Her healing chakra flickered faintly, a soft glow against the chaos surrounding us, like a solitary candle in a storm. But her face told a different story—anguish and fury warred in her expression, her normally serene features twisted with maternal rage.
My nephew.
The sight of him, so vulnerable, stirred something deep within me. My usual calm cracked ever so slightly, a pang of fury bubbling to the surface like water beginning to boil. But I held it in check. Emotion, while powerful, was best tempered by clarity and reason—a lesson I'd learned through bitter experience and countless battles.
Then he arrived.
Endeavor strode into the clearing, his flames casting long shadows that danced in the waning light. Each step he took seemed to scorch the earth beneath his feet, leaving faint wisps of smoke in his wake. The Number Two Hero carried himself with his usual imposing presence, but there was something in his stance—a flicker of unease beneath the façade, like a hairline crack in porcelain. His eyes, bright and fierce, scanned the scene, landing on me with a hard, scrutinizing glare.
"You," he said, his voice deep and commanding, filling the space between us with tension thick enough to cut, "are the boy's guardian, I assume."
I stepped forward, placing myself between him and Tamayo. The heat from his flames washed over me, but I remained unmoved, like a mountain facing a summer breeze. "I am his uncle," I said, my tone steady but cold as Nourthen poles. "And you, Flame Hero, are the man who thought it appropriate to attack a child who was merely defending himself."
The crowd murmured at my words, their unease growing as the tension thickened. I could feel their eyes on us, watching, waiting to see how this confrontation would unfold.
Endeavor's flames flared in response, his jaw tightening until I could almost hear his teeth grinding. "That child is a danger. He was exhibiting powers that—"
"A danger?" I interrupted, taking another step forward. My hands clasped behind my back, my posture relaxed yet resolute, but my voice sharpened like a blade being drawn. "What kind of danger does a boy pose to a seasoned hero like you? A boy who was outnumbered, injured, and clearly acting in self-defense? What does it say about a hero who uses his full strength against a child?"
Endeavor's scowl deepened, his flames flickering higher around his face, casting harsh shadows that made him look more demonic than heroic. "He wasn't just some helpless child. He displayed his power that could have endangered everyone here. I was containing a threat, as is my duty."
"He was protecting himself!" I snapped, my calm tone giving way to iron. The air around us seemed to still, as if nature itself held its breath. "From bullies, from your subordinates, and from you—a so-called hero who acted without thought or restraint. A true hero's first instinct should be to protect, not to attack. To understand, not to judge."
The crowd stilled. Even the murmurs of dissent fell silent as my words echoed across the clearing. The only sounds were the crackling of Endeavor's flames and the soft whimpers of Raiden as Tamayo continued her healing.
"You speak of duty," I continued, taking yet another step closer, close enough now to feel the heat radiating from his costume, "but where was your sense of justice? Did you stop to ask what had happened? Did you even consider that this child might have been defending himself against those who attacked him first? Or were you too blinded by your pride to see the truth before your eyes?"
Endeavor's flames flared brighter, his stance stiffening as the heat around him intensified. The air shimmered with waves of distortion, making his imposing figure seem even more menacing. "I acted in accordance with the situation," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "The boy's power was unstable, unpredictable. It had to be contained before innocent lives were put at risk. That is what heroes do."
I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his attempt at justification. The man's arrogance reminded me of many Fire Nation generals I had known in my past—so convinced of their righteousness that they could not see the destruction they caused. "And attacking him without understanding the situation was your solution?" I asked, my voice level but carrying an edge sharper than any blade. "You, Flame Hero, possess power without wisdom, and that makes you far more dangerous than any child. A teacup overflowing burns the hand that holds it."
A ripple of unease passed through the crowd like wind through autumn leaves. People shifted uncomfortably, some nodding in agreement with my words, others looking uncertain. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.
Momo's parents stepped forward from the gathering, their expressions thunderous. Mrs. Yaoyorozu's normally composed features were twisted with indignation, her eyes flashing dangerously as she positioned herself between Endeavor and where Raiden lay.
"This is an outrage!" Mrs. Yaoyorozu exclaimed, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. Her elegant hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, trembling with barely contained fury. "That boy is my daughter's friend and a guest of our family! He was invited here, welcomed into our home, and you thought it appropriate to attack him? Without cause? Without restraint? You should be ashamed of yourself, Endeavor! Is this what the Number Two Hero represents?"
Her husband placed a protective hand on Momo's shoulder, his face grim and resolute. The girl was pale, her eyes wide with fear and concern as she looked between the adults. "Recklessness like this will not go unanswered," he added, his voice carrying the quiet authority of a man accustomed to being heard. "The Yaoyorozu family demands accountability. We have connections throughout the hero commission and beyond. This incident will not be swept aside."
Endeavor's gaze shifted momentarily to the Yaoyorozus, his expression unreadable behind the dancing flames that surrounded his face. A muscle twitched in his jaw, perhaps the only indication that their words had any effect on him. Then, his eyes flicked back to me, narrowing with barely contained contempt.
"I don't need a lecture on heroism," he said through gritted teeth, "especially not from an unknown foreigner who appeared from nowhere."
"No," I replied, my voice low and dangerous, carrying the weight of decades of experience and the wisdom that comes from both triumph and terrible failure. "But perhaps you need a reminder. Power without control is destruction. Control without compassion is tyranny. And arrogance, Flame Hero, is the path to failure. I have walked that path myself, and I know where it leads—to ashes and regret."
The crowd hung on my every word, the weight of the moment suffocating. Some of the onlookers had taken out their phones, recording the confrontation. This would spread, I knew—perhaps that was for the best.
Tamayo's voice broke through, calm yet fierce as the gentle stream that can, with time, carve through mountains. "Iroh," she called, her hands glowing softly as she tended to Raiden's injuries, her focus unwavering. "Enough. Focus on what matters. Raiden needs us now. His condition is stable, but he requires proper care."
I nodded to her, understanding the wisdom in her words. Turning back to Endeavor one last time, I met his fiery gaze with the steady calm of one who has faced far worse. "This isn't over," I said, my tone carrying the finality of a closing door. "There will be consequences for what you've done here today. If not by your peers, then by me. Remember, even the strongest flame can be extinguished."
Endeavor's flames dimmed slightly, perhaps unconsciously. He gave a grunt of frustration, his lips tightening into a thin line. "This isn't over," he muttered, turning on his heel and walking away, his pride still intact but clearly shaken. The crowd parted before him like water, no one willing to stand in his path.
"No, it isn't," I murmured as I watched him go, the embers of my anger still glowing in my chest. "But it will be handled properly, with justice rather than vengeance."
As the crowd began to disperse, whispering among themselves about what they had witnessed, I turned back to Tamayo and the others. Momo was still clinging to her father, her small frame trembling slightly, though her eyes showed a determination beyond her years. Tamayo's focus was entirely on Raiden, her hands moving with practiced precision as she continued her healing work, her determination unwavering.
"Let's get him home," I said softly, the anger in my chest settling into resolve like tea leaves at the bottom of a cup. "He needs rest, care, and the comfort of those who truly understand him."
The Yaoyorozus nodded in solemn agreement, and together, we carefully gathered Raiden and left the clearing, leaving behind the chaos—and the Flame Hero—to face the consequences of his actions. As we walked, I made a mental note to brew a special calming tea for Raiden when he awoke. Some wounds require more than physical healing, and I suspected the boy would need both strength and peace in the days to come.