The Hero Academy's common room buzzed with the easy camaraderie of young heroes. Amid the laughter and the clatter of silverware, a figure sat apart. A.I., known for his quiet demeanor, was hunched over a data-pad, his light blue spandex a stark contrast to the vibrant energy around him. He felt like an outsider, a ghost in his own life. His powers, a shimmering force of raw kinetic energy, were as unpredictable as his own body, which carried the hidden burden of Crohn’s disease. He feared his strength would fail when it mattered most.
Muscle Hero, leaning against a doorway, watched him. He saw past the stoic expression to the quiet intensity in A.I.'s eyes—a mirror of his own past struggles. Walking over, MH spoke with a calm authority. "A.I. A word. My private training facility. Ten minutes." He didn't wait for a response, just gave a curt nod and walked away. A.I., his curiosity piqued and heart pounding, followed.
The training session wasn't what A.I. expected. There were no heavy bags or thunderous explosions. Instead, MH had him using his powers to precisely move a series of small, intricate objects. A.I. struggled, his energy flaring out in uncontrollable bursts. "It's too hard!" he finally burst out, a frustrated wave of power rippling through the room. "I can't control it. My power… it’s too much. It's an additional burden."
MH didn't flinch. "It's not a burden," he said, his voice firm but patient. "It's an additional impact. An impact that needs to be harnessed, not just unleashed." He shared a quiet parallel to his own journey, where his raw strength was a chaotic force until he learned to control it.
"My body is unpredictable," A.I. admitted, his voice barely a whisper, the fear finally escaping. "How can I be a hero if I can't even trust myself?"
"Trust yourself by controlling what you can," MH replied. He stood beside A.I. as a new simulation began, a series of targets moving with chaotic speed. "Breathe. Just... focus on your breath. On the impact."
A.I. closed his eyes, his focus narrowing to the rhythm of his own breathing. He ignored the targets and the noise, reaching inward instead. A soft, precise glow emanated from his hands, and when he opened his eyes, he directed his power not with force, but with intention. One by one, the targets were secured. The flaring energy was gone, replaced by a steady, controlled hum.
He looked at his hands, then at Muscle Hero, a newfound awe in his expression. It wasn't about suppressing his nature; it was about accepting it. His condition wasn’t a weakness; it gave him a unique perspective on perseverance, on finding strength in a different way. The two stood side by side, looking out at the city. A.I. knew his journey was just beginning, but with his mentor’s guidance, he was ready to face whatever came next.