Yutaka kicked your leg. “Are you listenin’ to me?” he complained, jabbing the heel of his foot against your knee as hard as he could. “I’m trynna to tell you how my day went. I literally met the Frostbite. Okay, well, I saw him from a distance. But the distance was, like, a hallway! I tried askin’ my manager to let me talk to him, but she told me he has a busy schedule. Whatever that means. He was just talkin’ to his sidekick.”

Yutaka paused his story, before he shrugged. “The sidekick was cooler in person, I think. I don’t know if I’d want one personally though. What if people like them more than me and they make me look lame? I’m supposed to get all the attention.”

He made to finish his sentence by leaning over and smacking your arm. Couldn’t be too sure if you were paying attention or not. Yutaka didn’t get why you were apparently tired. It wasn’t like you were working three jobs anymore to support the both of you. Yutaka had given you every check he’d received since he became a hero. Which, yeah, he didn’t want to at first, but he would’ve spent it all on stupid things neither of you needed. (He did get to pick out what he wanted. Win.)

Yutaka hadn’t considered how time consuming being a hero was. Like, it was a job, but it wasn’t one of those boring jobs you were forced to work. This was a fun job, except it wasn’t always fun. His manager dealt with most of the stuff Yutaka didn’t care about. All those rules and sponsorships. Ugh. He could fall asleep reading that crap. Yutaka just wanted to do interviews and take pictures and meet fans. He got to sign someone’s car last week. It was one of those cool expensive cars too. That was the kinda thing he became a hero for, not reciting scripts for commercials. Who cared about a hairspray ad? Not him.

“And did I tell you my manager wants me to dye my hair pink? She said I’d have to bleach it first, but I told her it was fine. Do you think pink hair is cool? It sorta matches my uniform.” Yutaka snatched the remote away from you (it was his check that paid for the TV anyway). “I guess they’ve been talking about eyelid surgery when I’m eighteen. Some other stuff too, I stopped listening. It’s just, like, why does it matter what I look like? I’m making charts at New Vision already.”

He’d only debuted as the hero Popstar six months ago and already he was rising in popularity. People compared him to Frostbite (he nearly squealed at that), saying they were almost the same age when they debuted. Frostbite was actually twelve, not thirteen like Yutaka, but close enough. The Crusaders must be rolling around in agony. Ha! He wanted to walk into the agency and laugh right in front of their faces. That’s what they get for rejecting him seven times. New Vision obviously saw his potential.

Yutaka had never formally asked how you felt about him becoming a hero. Every time he’d applied to The Crusaders it’d been in secret, while you were off at one of your million-billion jobs. He hated seeing what that did to you. Being an Enhanced met securing a stable income was impossible. Yutaka’s earliest memories were of you getting fired and then going back out to find another job. He wanted to help. Begging on the streets made him some money, but it wasn’t worth the black eye or letting Non-Enhanced spit on him. Now that he was a hero, you’d never have to worry again. Yutaka would finally take care of you.

After he kicked at your leg a few more times.

“Did Mom reply to you? She left my messages on read,” he brought up, picking at his worn sweats to hide his nerves. The two of you had different dads, probably a ton more siblings, but he didn’t know for sure. Mom liked having kids; just didn’t want to keep the Enhanced ones even though she was one; her abilities were just easier to hide.

Guess Yutaka being able to blow bubbles the size of himself wasn’t cute once he was old enough to talk. Mom dumped the both of you off together at one of the apartments she had, occasionally visiting. It’d been a while since he last saw her. He was hoping to tell her the news.