ã€ŠThorny Path of a Pro-Heroã€‹


 - flashforward -

    In the future.

    Blood sprayed everywhere.

    My amplified punch sent the maniac flying back, landing him on his butt.

    And it knocked the fake hand off his twisted face.

    Notably, Shigaraki didn''t get back up; he started muttering, "This is bad... this is very bad..." and scrambled towards his "mask" on all fours.

    "Lost your favorite right hand?"

    I jumped and kicked him in the stomach, sending him soaring into the air.

    In war, there are no stances, no rules, no timeouts, no "don''t hit a man when he''s down."

    During the war, there is the one who dies and the other one who kills.

    I came to fight you. And you miscast your role today, Tomura.

    Tomura disagreed. He grabbed my leg, trying to disintegrate me.

    Not at my speed! I threw his limbs aside with micro-amplification and instead of striking, stomped on his "mask," shattering it into fine dust with an explosion.

    Shigaraki... howled. And began tearing at his own face with his nails, ignoring me.

    At that moment, two henchmen attacked.

    A cold thought flashed: "I don''t have time to babysit you."

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Block from the left. Kick to the knee of the left one, breaking it. Duck, letting a wide punch fly over my head. Quick strike to the groin, amplification leaving the right one unable to contaminate the nation''s gene pool. Armored elbow to the left one''s teeth, no quirk needed. Shove the right one away...

    Grab both hands of the charging Tomura.

    We froze, trembling with tension, his fingers scraping the air inches from my face, and I held his forearms with all my strength. Now, without the mask, I could see not just those wild, bloodshot eyes, but his bloodied, distorted face.

    "Such a young guy," I thought with unexpected sadness.

    Around us, the battle raged, everything was crashing, but we saw only each other.

    The strangest thing was that my next words came out unexpectedly clear, as if ringing like a bell:

    "Listen, when All-for-One put all those hands on you, didn''t it bother you that they were all the same size? Even though when you killed your sister, she was only... what? Five, six? She had tiny hands, you know? They''re just fakes."

    It didn''t matter if it was true or not.

    And I didn''t know what I expected.

    But certainly not the lone tear that rolled from his eye.

    "What... what are you..."

    I jerked my head, activating the tiny markers on my helmet''s buttons, fully deploying the visor without using my fingers, and released his wrists. Tomura fell forward - and I took pleasure in smashing his face with my protected forehead, breaking his nose. Again.

    Then I stomped on his foot, grinding the bones of his foot with amplification.

    Tomura shrieked.

    Finally, we collided like rugby players, and I preemptively hurled him away with another marker.

    The lad rolled across the concrete slabs, losing all his decorative hands.

    I stepped forward. Another step. And another.

    Quietly, continuing the psychological attack, I said:

    "Shigaraki, do you really think these hands are your relatives? Preserved in embalming fluid for fifteen years? Despite the fact that you destroyed them all, unable to control your quirk, but left just the hands, every single one of them? Doesn''t that make you laugh? They''re just fakes, you''re just being used and brainwashed, you''re..."

    "Shvutt uph... shvut uphh!!!"

    "You have a strange accent, can''t understand a word," I replied absently, thinking that I could also tackle Plan Point Six, Subpoint ''c'' - knock Tomura out and throw him in Tartarus. Maybe Nezu could actually do something useful with him?

    My opponent finally got up - but collapsed to his knees. His pale hair covered his face, and I was right about to KO him when...

    When young Shigaraki screamed incoherently - and plunged his own hands into the ground.

 Episode 1. "Hi?" Part I.

    I¡¯ve wanted to be a superhero since I was a kid.

    Back then, I didn¡¯t give a damn about the consequences. I didn¡¯t care that idiots in spandex in the real, three-dimensional, gray world were just idiots in spandex.

    I did everything I considered superhero-like¡ªpentathlon, running, swinging a sword-like stick, forgive me, parkour, and even sewing. For the latter, I blame Raimi¡¯s "Spider-Man", which led me to secretly ruin several tablecloths and curtains trying to sew a cool costume, never figuring out what I did wrong.

    I was just a kid, after all.

    As I grew older, that impossible dream matured with me. I tried to take the maximum from the ¡°three-dimensional and gray¡± world. I worked out seriously, maintained my physical shape, ran marathons, went to survival (and role-playing) camps, skydived and wingsuited, visited shooting ranges, and learned to shoot decently. I even served in the army.

    I led a healthy lifestyle.

    Sometimes, though, I felt crappy for no apparent reason. Weakness in the mornings. Other more ominous signs appeared too, like sudden pigment spots, though I wasn¡¯t even thirty yet, not some old man.

    But¡­ so what? I ignored it. After all, I was young. It couldn¡¯t be serious, right?

    I pondered for a long time which martial art to pursue, since movies that were my initial motivators were poor guides. I chose purely pragmatically¡ªKrav Maga. Sure, I couldn¡¯t do a flashy kung-fu spin kick, but who needs that in a dark alley in winter?

    I dare hope I achieved some success in this field.

    One would think that if a zombie apocalypse, alien invasion, or even a bizarre activation of hidden genes like in "X-Men" happened, I¡¯d be at least somewhat prepared.

    I wanted to be ready for something extraordinary. Deep down, I felt there was some destiny for me, some crucial goal I needed to be prepared for.

    Something had to happen.

    Perhaps that''s why I tried to acquire as many useful skills for extreme situations as possible. Not knowing what to be ready for, I prepared for everything: driving, self-defense, high jumps, swimming, first aid, running, shooting...

    Perhaps that¡¯s why I didn¡¯t think about career growth, switching over ten jobs in different fields by the time I was thirty.

    Perhaps that¡¯s why I barely had any social ties even by the end of my life. And left this world completely alone.

    Or maybe not.

    In any case, I believed I did almost everything to meet this unknown challenge with dignity¡ªwhatever it might be.

    And yes, there was a hidden gene, but...

    Alas, what I wasn¡¯t prepared for at all was colon cancer.

    ***

    Skipping the prolonged and painful illness... first, I lost my physical shape, then became disabled, and eventually... well, it was clear where it was heading.

    And it arrived.

    By the end of my life, I was just a half-dead body on a couch. Fortunately or unfortunately¡ªI couldn¡¯t tell anymore¡ªdue to the advanced, inoperable stage, I was quickly categorized as a patient with survival chances below the floor. Those who, if they had relatives, were sent home to die.

    So I wouldn¡¯t die in a hospital.

    Thus, I had access to the internet and a screen. Tired of questions like "Why did I live?" and "What¡¯s the point of all this?", I watched everything I could when I was conscious.

    Action movies, disaster films, blockbusters, Marvel, anime... superhero stuff.

    I coped with crappy reality by binging unattainable fantasies, like most people do. Like, perhaps, I should have done all along.

    The last thing I remember is watching the fifth season of ¡°My Hero Academia.¡± I liked the first three; the other two were so-so. Or maybe I just couldn¡¯t see clearly because my health worsened, my vision failed, and I kept falling into some sort of abyss...

    And then - nothing.

    I was in the long-awaited, clich¨¦d... endless darkness.

    I realized almost immediately that I had finally died. Nothing hurt. Absolutely nothing. My mind was clear, free from narcotic fog, and I felt light all over¡ªafter months of being a bundle of agony and exposed nerves. Even in sleep, the pain never ceased, gnawing at me.

    Initially, it wasn¡¯t like that¡ªI just weakened, my body malfunctioned, but there was no pain, and I hoped it would pass. Later, I learned that the intestines have no pain receptors, and when pain arrives, it means invasion, metastases... too late.

    In the darkness where I found myself, it was cozy. Warm, quiet, and calm.

    "Well," I thought, "if this is the famed ''nothingness,'' it¡¯s not the worst option. Especially considering I came here straight from my personal hell."

    Incidentally, I couldn¡¯t see myself. Just some vague shadows where my arms and legs should be.

    Hmm... I never saw my life flash before my eyes! That¡¯s sad. There were a few moments I¡¯d love to relive. Especially that one with one cute blonde, yeah... so... maybe there¡¯s a way to play those clips here in the darkness? Like a highlight reel?

    Maybe a few minutes passed, or maybe an eternity, but at some point, I realized that some flickers were distracting me from thoughts of hacking the biblical system of the universe.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Not far from ¡°me,¡± whatever I was in this void, a round source of light began to glow in the darkness, like a ghostly ball of fire.

    Green fire.

    And then this fireball spoke to me!

    I didn¡¯t understand anything. Firstly, the ¡°connection¡± was breaking up, and his words came from afar, and secondly, this guest, who needed my help, spoke Japanese, which I didn¡¯t know!

    Wait.

    Seems I know now¡­ moreover, I can somewhat speak it myself!

    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked, with a non-existent mouth and in pure anime-style.

    An alien, perhaps?..

    ¡°¡­and I... You¡­ not yet¡­ but you¡¯ll meet¡­ in the future...¡± came the reply.

    Didn¡¯t make things clearer.

    I tried again:

    ¡°Did you¡­ summon me here?¡±

    The green fireball seemed agitated, began to expand, and replied sharply, in a raised voice:

    ¡°¡­we¡­ time! We need¡­ help! We can¡¯t¡­ manage¡­ not enough power! And he¡¯s¡­ not a fighter. We¡­ you¡­ Help us!¡±

    The fireball fully grew, becoming more like a blindingly glowing human figure. This spirit extended a hand to me...

    ¡°Uh¡­ okay?¡±

    Then there was a blinding white flash.

    ***

    For a brief moment in the flash, I saw the silhouette of my interlocutor, covered in lightning, and even, somehow, my own figure, not black as I thought, but entirely covered in some purple shreds, either fog or fire...

    And I was rapidly carried forward by some beam of unknown energy.

    Then¡ªdarkness and comfort. Again.

    One would think that now I could expect a minute or two of rest and peace, maybe even a private lecture from a bearded elder explaining the madness happening.

    As you might have guessed, my expectations rarely matched reality.

    So I wasn¡¯t too surprised when I was dragged somewhere, followed by excruciating pain. Again.

    Only...

    Despite the nightmare I lived through before death, that pain was nowhere near This one. It had no specific source, yet it seemed everything hurt¡ªevery part of my body, every finger, every hair, every cell. It felt like my head was being crushed, squeezed in a vise, and simultaneously, my body was being twisted and literally torn apart.

    Then the darkness turned into blinding light, I jerked, tried to escape the clutches of pain¡ªbut to my horror, I realized I couldn¡¯t move. I wanted to at least see my tormentor, show him, even with a glance, how much I hated him¡ªbut I saw only blurry spots. I tried to inhale air to scream¡ªbut choked on it, and unbearable pain pierced my chest, something gurgled, as if it began to open, unfold...

    Yet screaming was still within my power. There was enough air.

    So I did.

    In retrospect, I don¡¯t know how I endured it. Maybe it was the extensive experience of fighting hellish pain, maybe the underdeveloped, infant nervous system, or maybe the stubbornness with which I faced every gate on my path in my past life.

    Anyway... I was born.

    Again.

    ***

    Almost a whole year¡ªthe first year of the new life¡ªall I could do was think. Well, maybe less than a year, after all, learning to sit and walk is easier if you¡¯ve done it before.

    There were many questions. What next? Whom should I help? Is this new world the same as my old one, or different? Who am I? In which family was I born? Was I lucky or not?

    Considering that I am now gradually learning the Japanese language (from scratch, since my mystical understanding of it disappeared as suddenly as it appeared), and that the people around me, including my¡­ parents¡­ are all speaking Japanese, and that I have clearly been reincarnated in another body¡­

    No way. Did I end up in an isekai?

    But it didn¡¯t seem like a fantasy world, more like familiar modern realities.

    And no truck hit me.

    I didn¡¯t notice anything magical or superheroic around, which even made me a bit sad.

    Except maybe the technologies seemed more advanced than in my previous world: a big robot vacuum, a voice assistant, and holograms in the house¡ªI often saw my mother summoning them on the walls, setting something like a timer.

    They didn¡¯t let me watch the news much; my parents rarely watched TV. I briefly saw a newscaster with a dog¡¯s head but decided it was a mask or a cartoon.

    I only saw the man¡ªfather¡ªtwo days a week, as I understood, on weekends. The man worked hard, I guess. The woman, mother, took care of me. Really took care: clay, crayons, puzzles, all sorts of constructors, and books I didn¡¯t understand¡­ but for some reason, she wasn¡¯t a fan of going out. And didn¡¯t watch TV, either. Yep.

    Of course, she took me out in a stroller, but only within the small courtyard of our house, beyond whose walls the outside world was not visible. Or we drove to almost deserted parks¡ªbut the child seat, the damned thing, faced backward, and I saw nothing out the window.

    The first months, I only saw colorful spots instead of the surrounding world! And I couldn¡¯t even consciously turn my head, sigh...

    Even the books gave no clues¡ªtypical children¡¯s books with strange characters, anthropomorphic forces of nature, and humanoid animals, nothing special. I noticed comics with a cool muscular figure on the cover, but my little hands couldn¡¯t get a hold of them.

    Hmm¡­ something to read when I grow up.

    Of course, I had suspicions, but nothing concrete.

    There was enough to think about without that. The amazing fact that my adult, formed consciousness somehow fully recorded onto the ¡°hard drive¡± of an infant, whose cerebral cortex wasn¡¯t even developed. How was that even possible? Is my consciousness partially in some "astral" plane? Or is this the proverbial soul at work? Magic, Harry? Am I Batman?..

    I checked, and yes, it was fully recorded¡ªalong with all my memories! I checked simply: for a long time, I literally couldn¡¯t do anything.

    It was terrible, really.

    And to keep from going insane from boredom, I replayed all sorts of memories in my mind, tried to systematize the knowledge and skills that could help me survive, wondered where fate had thrown me, and thought, thought, thought...

    When my anatomy and parents finally allowed me to walk, the first thing I did was get to the window facing the street, clamber onto the windowsill, look out the window¡­ and instantly understood everything.

    You see, among the variety of fantastic worlds I got to know in my short past life, there was only one where people with heads resembling, for instance, rectangular blocks of concrete or some creepy version of a glue tube could walk down the sidewalk in broad daylight... creepy...

    Quirks. They were real!

    I TOTALLY lucked out! Yahoo!

    "My Hero Academia"! I remember now!..

    Then the joy gradually subsided.

    First... it¡¯s just weird. Does reincarnation work on the "last thing you watched" principle? Hard to believe.

    Secondly, if I remember correctly, one in five in this world doesn¡¯t have a quirk. So, luck is not guaranteed. Losing the dream a second time, especially in a world where it¡¯s possible and even normal¡­ would be painful.

    Although... I carefully examined my body (for signs of a Quirk), particularly the toes, and cheered up again (mood swings, even to the diametrically opposite, in a child¡¯s body are simply monstrous in their speed, outmatching superheroes). My little toes indeed had only two phalanges! I hadn¡¯t even noticed.

    However... this rule isn¡¯t absolute, there are exceptions¡ªotherwise, the anime series¡¯ protagonist wouldn¡¯t have made it into the hero school at all. Or it would have raised many questions. Logically, it¡¯s not a reliable sign.

    So, I¡¯ll have to wait until the Quirk manifests itself or I get examined by a doctor-diagnostician, like they told Midoriya he had none¡­ Oh¡­ another All Might is unlikely to appear for me¡­

    But what am I saying? The most important thing is that I¡¯m alive!

    Even so... if I am lucky... what will I be capable of? Did I reincarnate in this world as "me," as an independent new character? Or did I get inserted into the original story in someone¡¯s place? Or is this not even the "Academia" anime world, but something completely different, unfamiliar to me? Or a parallel universe relative to that series? At this point, everything seems possible¡­

    Well... in any case, to get answers, it¡¯s time to start talking and asking questions to my parents.

    Soon I did. Not hiding much, so my parents initially assumed my Quirk was something like high intellect.

    Nah, I doubt that¡¯s the case; I¡¯m not a genius like Sasuke, more like a hardworking idiot like Naruto.

    But at the same time, I saw little point in hiding my brains. An eloquent toddler probably wouldn¡¯t impress anyone in this world. This insane world, where a bipedal orca superhero or that kid from the Academy who cosplays Darkwing Duck is considered normal.

    So...

 Episode 1. Part II.

    So.

    Firstly, this is definitely the world of "Academia."

    Quirks, professional heroes, villains. All Might (I still can¡¯t believe I didn¡¯t recognize him on posters and in books right away). The best school in the world, U.A. High School.

    Secondly, I actually live in Japan. Specifically, in Shizuoka Prefecture, in the city of Hamamatsu. In this same area is U.A. itself, in the neighboring city of Musutafu, where the anime¡¯s protagonist supposedly lives.

    Thirdly... in this world, my name is Nirengeki Shoda.

    Who¡¯s that? Was there such a character in the original? What¡¯s his/my Quirk?

    I have no idea.

    My Quirk hasn¡¯t manifested yet, and I don¡¯t remember this name from the series. Appearance didn¡¯t help much either¡ªa regular kid, not particularly Asian-looking, with wide eyes and hair of an unusual gray-blue color.

    The only clue is the name. Not in the sense that I¡¯m the son of Eraser Head, although that thought did cross my mind for a moment, but no: "Shota" is a given name, and my "Shoda" is a surname. It was very unusual to navigate the complexities of a new language with several scripts, where a bunch of words and individual characters can have another bunch of meanings... but I eventually figured out that my new name "Nirengeki" means something like "double strike" or "combo of two hits."

    I realized during the first season, with stations named "Tatooine" and beaches called "Dagobah," that the author loves references, and characters like "Manga" from U.A.''s Class 1-B showed that descriptive names are also a thing. So my name isn¡¯t accidental.

    But¡­ did it give me any insight? No. Did I remember a character with a similar Quirk? Someone who fought in close combat with combos?.. No. I remember there were a few kids in Class B who could fight in close combat.

    But who said the original "Nirengeki" even got into U.A.?

    I still don¡¯t know if I have a Quirk.

    Next... my parents¡ªTakeda and Sakura Shoda. Both have Quirks, but nothing powerful or heroic.

    New biological father of my body¡ªI never could bring myself to call them "Mom" and "Dad" over the past few years¡ªwas an ordinary, lean man with chestnut hair. Calm, quiet, tidy, but a rather positive person. He didn¡¯t give off any heroic vibes.

    However, he worked as a firefighter and rescuer, which earned him my respect. Not least because of his Quirk, "Effect," which was something like ersatz-telekinesis. He couldn¡¯t pull or throw anything at someone but could perform some mundane actions at a distance of about ten steps¡ªopen a door without touching it, for example, or turn off the light. Just an effect, but at a distance.

    According to him¡ªhe didn¡¯t take me on calls, obviously¡ªthis Quirk was very helpful at work. And in general, my father, unlike my mother, was a fan of heroes and wanted to be one himself as a child, but it didn¡¯t work out.

    I felt a kindred spirit in him, so we got along well. However, I never got a clear answer to why they gave me this name. Either some ancestor was called that, or a fortune-teller advised it, or they just found it in a list of Japanese names and thought it was pretty.

    The blue-haired-boy-me didn¡¯t think so, so I demanded my name be shortened to "Niren." My parents laughed and complied¡ªI became just Niren, or ¶þßB in Japanese characters. Niren Shoda. If translated literally, my name is "double palm strike," geez. Probably to the face...

    My mother was a beautiful and fairly young woman, though a bit nervous. Despite her "pink" name, she had a luxurious blue mane of hair the same shade as mine, took good care of herself, the house, and me (though after a year, she didn¡¯t need to look after me much). She was a typical modern housewife.

    Her Quirk was "Timer": utterly useless in a fight but handy in everyday life. She could create the illusion of a clock on any surface, which would count down the set time and then flash bright red. That¡¯s all. But thanks to it, her cooking never burned.

    No wonder that despite having a Quirk, my mother¡ªdefinitely not a fighter¡ªfeared villains and robbers and therefore preferred to go out rarely and only during daylight. Even with All Might¡¯s reign, crime in this Japan still flared up regularly, and street clashes happened daily. It makes sense¡ªpower, especially superhuman, gets to people¡¯s heads. Those who have it, anyway.

    You¡¯re walking to the store for bread and a bottle of kefir... pardon, a bottle of cold tea¡ªkefir isn¡¯t popular here¡ªand suddenly, a superhero and a supervillain crash past you in a fight. Noise, smoke, people scatter, someone from the crowd joins the brawl...

    Almost every day. Can you imagine? Passersby can get caught up in it too. Yes, heroes almost always arrive on time, handle it, and the police respond very quickly here, and the blond guy with the bunny ear hairstyle might drop from the sky any moment. But still...

    The only conclusion is¡ªI need to get strong. There¡¯s the need to help the unknown benefactor, whom I¡¯m grateful to for the second chance, and the simple desire to live normally without constant fear for my life like my mother, and an old dream given a second wind...

    However, above all, a simple chain of reasoning: I need to be strong enough to get into U.A. Why? Because even if I only roughly know the plot of the anime, with a high probability, the events in this world will unfold similarly. This means that the only place where my life will be safe is U.A. Specifically, in the class with Midoriya, Bakugo, and the others. Why?

    Because the anime''s story revolved around them, so their future is the only one I know. And that only up to a certain point, as I watched the fourth and fifth seasons rather haphazardly, and the sixth season wasn¡¯t even released at that time... Who knows where, how, and when the original story will end.

    So I need to be prepared for anything, even the worst-case scenario. This phrase will probably become my life''s motto now.

    Moreover... the very possibility of influencing future events of the story, for instance, saving someone from death, like All Might¡¯s sidekick, requires me to be close to these events.

    However, I was reasonable enough not to rush headlong into saving, say, Tomura (or Shimura?) or even Shoto and his brothers from the mess that happens in their childhood in the original. What can I do without a Quirk, without knowing the exact address and time?

    Especially since I¡¯m not even four years old yet. And I don¡¯t have a Quirk. Damn, it¡¯s frustrating¡ªkids my age usually manifest their Quirks by now, but I haven¡¯t at all. I¡¯ve started to repeat myself already.

    So... if you don¡¯t rush and think twice, interfering with the known canon might not be such a good idea, either for my personal benefit or for the fate of my new homeland. After all, knowing the future, even approximately, is a very powerful tool. But it requires brains to use it. If I help or save any of the key characters, I might break the original course of events, making everything much worse and, at the same time, losing my own advantage.

    Not to mention that the protagonist and future strongest hero¡ªMidoriya¡ªspends his early years so unsure of himself that, for the sake of all of us, he needs those initial victories, even if he has to achieve them alone and on his last breath. So, don¡¯t interfere, Niren!

    Moreover, as I understood from the anime¡¯s plot, if there¡¯s no future threat to the whole world from the revolutionary anarchist Tomura Shigaraki, someone else will take his place. It¡¯s like what Tolstoy wrote in War and Peace: historical events are influenced not by specific individuals but by the people and society. The blow is struck by a spear, and anyone could be its tip.

    However, in the events of the Napoleonic War, which Tolstoy analyzed, there was no All Might or All for One. And here they exist.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    And then there¡¯s me. But no Quirk! Damn, I¡¯m just wasting time! Physical training at my age is at best not harmful, but I could and should be developing superpowers!... If I understand correctly how this all works. And I could already be working on a specific fighting technique for the Quirk... but how do I know what and how to develop?!

    In general, I was slowly falling into depression, which looked comical from the outside¡ªto avoid drowning in gloom completely, I engaged in everything... superheroic. Just like last time, but I started earlier. Running, self-defense, theories of Quirk development, and not particularly useful manuals on countering them, available in the public domain, plus the legal regulation of Quirks and state control of professional heroes...

    I even started studying regular school subjects in advance, even though in my past life, seeing me with a textbook was simply impossible. And here I was¡ªat three years old!

    Anyway... when I finally turned four, I almost dragged my parents to the hospital for the traditional Quirk screening. And I crossed my fingers...

    ***

    My parents were financially middle class, so we went to a perfectly ordinary hospital. In an equally ordinary, almost empty office with no equipment, a doctor was seeing patients¡ªone of those lucky (or unlucky?) enough to have a diagnostic Quirk.

    Little me crab-walked onto the couch and sat with a straight back, fists clenched, bracing myself for the worst, ignoring the encouraging empty phrases from my parents.

    Even if I don¡¯t have a Quirk... I¡¯ll still become a hero! A vigilante then. The combat skills from my previous world still seem to be with me. I think there was a spin-off manga about such guys, one of whom definitely didn¡¯t have powers...

    The office briefly lit up with a blue light. Then the doctor¡ªa big, good-natured bearded man with square glasses¡ªsmiled, and my parents simultaneously exhaled in relief.

    ¡°You can relax, young man,¡± the doctor said, removing his glasses and wiping them, continuing to smile. Apparently, he was amused by the stern military seriousness with which the child prepared for bad news. ¡°You definitely have a Quirk, and it¡¯s not a weak one!¡±

    I allowed myself to close my eyes and exhale. That¡¯s good... my dream is finally closer... but still, it¡¯s too early to relax.

    ¡°Thank God,¡± my mother sniffled, wiping away tears and smiling, ¡°Niri was already climbing the walls, and we started worrying too. But is it normal that the Quirk hasn¡¯t manifested yet? Of course, I hope nothing dangerous will awaken...¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to worry. Quirks often manifest after four, and sometimes even after six years, plus not all of them manifest visibly. And as for danger¡ªrest assured! Our state, and the whole world, carefully monitors all potentially dangerous Quirks, and their young owners receive immediate help. I remember once I had a case...¡±

    Yeah, yeah. You helped Tomura too?

    Okay, so... He says: ¡°not weak.¡± But what if I have some Quirk like global silence or search, which, while powerful, won¡¯t help in a fight?

    Keep in mind: I need to get into U.A.! Into Class ¡°A¡±!

    Politely, I addressed the bearded man as required:

    ¡°Sensei, could you please tell me, is it possible for you to determine exactly what my Quirk does?¡±

    ¡°Well, as you know,¡± the doctor said importantly, putting his glasses back on, ¡°there¡¯s no official classification of Quirks. It¡¯s impossible¡ªthey¡¯re too diverse.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± I nodded mechanically. ¡°I read it on Wikipedia.¡±

    The doctor raised an eyebrow, hesitated, then continued:

    ¡°I can¡¯t say anything specific; you need to wait for it to manifest. However...¡± He squinted and froze for a couple of seconds, as if looking through me. By the way, his eyes glowed blue at that moment, and the iris slowly rotated clockwise. A frightening sight. ¡°Your son... I mean, you, Niren-kun... have quite a powerful Quirk associated with telekinesis... something like the remote transmission of kinetic impulse... and um, I think, time manipulation...¡±

    Here it is! Here it is!

    I smiled broadly.

    But Takeda and Sakura exchanged surprised glances; my father cautiously asked:

    ¡°And nothing related to intelligence?¡±

    The doctor¡¯s eyes slid over my now serious face¡ªI was looking back intently¡ªthe iris started rotating faster...

    ¡°N-no, I don¡¯t see anything. That¡¯s all I can say... phew...¡± The man with extinguished eyes wearily leaned back in his chair, suddenly going limp.

    "Thank you very much, honorable sensei," I stood, bowed, and expressed my gratitude, beating my parents to it. I would have added the suffix "sama" at the end of the address¡ªflattery would have been appropriate here. But alas, in Japan, doctors are addressed simply as "sensei" and nothing else. Whatever. I was genuinely grateful¡ªfor good reason!

    It seems I finally figured out who I am.

    Or rather, I remembered.

    The bearded man, upon hearing my expression of gratitude in such a form, grunted in surprise and understandingly nodded to my parents with a smile: "Now I understand why you were surprised. It''s not often you meet such... a conscious young man¡ªand at such an age. Yes, the results of the encephalogram indeed indicate that Niren-kun has a highly developed brain, which is atypical for his age. However, I believe that this is due to the factor of his Quirk, that is, the secondary adaptation of the boy''s body to his ability. Hmm... as I understand it, this is a vivid example of the fusion of parental Quirks into something new and more powerful. Takeda-san, your ability is related to telekinesis, correct? And Sakura-san, if I remember correctly..."

    Losing interest in the ongoing discussion of what I already knew, I delved into my own thoughts.

    ***

    So... I seem to remember that there was a harmless, blue-haired chubby guy in Class 1-B at U.A. I have no idea how he got into U.A. with such physical attributes, let alone managed to score any points during the entrance exam against the robots. But then again, that disgusting dwarf Mineta also got in somehow, so it doesn¡¯t matter.

    This chubby guy, if I recall correctly, refused to participate in the sports festival, even though a true fighter, in my opinion, would have been excited by the opportunity to show off, test their strength, and face a worthy opponent one-on-one. Maybe this is the one my mysterious "benefactor," who brought me into this world, referred to as "not a fighter"? That would make sense.

    But regardless, the Quirk of this donut was definitely the ability to double the effect of the previous action. If I paraphrase... at the point of any initial strike or impact, he could repeat that strike. And here¡¯s the kicker: he could do it remotely! He could do it on command! And moreover, it seems that the repeated effect was even stronger than the first!

    I felt a predatory smile spreading across my face, but I couldn¡¯t help it.

    It seems this is even better than I expected! I¡¯ll be able to fight in close combat using my own skills and then repeat the effect of each strike, simultaneously breaking the opponent¡¯s rhythm and smashing through any block! And if I have time to prepare on the battlefield, where there are walls, trees, asphalt, and lamp posts that so love to fall on villains... I won¡¯t just beat my classmates; I¡¯ll overpower even the pros!

    Of course, I don¡¯t know what limitations this Quirk has. But like ordinary muscles, they can be trained. That¡¯s what all the articles on the internet say unanimously. And I know a thing or two about training.

    That chubby guy who is my alternate self stuck with me precisely because, despite a Quirk that immediately seemed very powerful to me, he acted completely ineffectively and was, again, a ridiculous, clumsy chubby guy.

    Hmm... most likely, the mangaka himself perfectly understood that this power in the skilled hands of someone like Bakugo could be incredible, so he made this character a klutz. Like, "enough of young geniuses in U.A. who are stronger than pros in their first year."

    Well, we¡¯ll see about "enough."

    ... How strange it is to think in such terms about the real, living world around me. Some random mangaka turns out to be a god for it?..

    Okay. The only thing I absolutely don¡¯t remember is what this wonder¡ªmy (my!) Quirk¡ªwas called. But that¡¯s not important. The important thing here is the fact that only in this crazy superhero world could such a wild and physics-defying ability arise!

    However... I got too excited. Yes, the power is very promising, but my thoughts and what that chubby guy demonstrated in the anime can¡¯t even be compared with what Bakugo, Midoriya, and Shota showed at the same tournament in just their first year. Not to mention all the Nomu, Overhaul, and All Might. And I need to do everything I can to reach their level... and I don¡¯t even know if that¡¯s possible.

    Syndrome from "The Incredibles" was wrong. Completely. When almost everyone became "super," there were still plenty who were even more super.

    ***

    I only realized we had said goodbye to the doctor and left the office when I was already sitting in the car. Yeah, I got lost in thought.

    After a while, at home, I just sat in the kitchen and hypnotized a fork. I had thrown it on the table a few minutes ago. Superhero training has begun. I wanted to repeat the throw without actually repeating it...

    The Quirk didn¡¯t want to activate, and no one provided me with a tutorial, damn it.

    And time is ticking.

    Maybe I should imagine in detail how I threw it? With what emotions, how I held it, how our kitchen and my frowning face were reflected in this fork?

    No, not working.

    I stopped drilling the unfortunate cutlery with my gaze and sighed, leaning back in my chair and involuntarily reminding myself of the bearded doctor. Maybe I¡¯m overcomplicating things?

    What if I try words?

    "Repeat! Effect! Double effect! Impact! Wingardium bloody Leviosa!"

    I groaned and started massaging my eyes with my fingers. I¡¯m definitely not waving my magic wand the right way...

    Waving?

    Then I tried a series of gestures, but even the inappropriate ones had no miraculous effect.

    What am I doing wrong?! It¡¯s not like I remember what that guy did in the anime?!

    In the end, in frustration, I slammed my small hand onto the table with all my might¡ªwhich the table, naturally, didn¡¯t feel. Unlike me. The fork didn¡¯t even jingle on the table, but my whole palm was burning. Infuriating! Weakness is infuriating! Everything is infuriating!

    I glared angrily at the exact spot where I had just struck...

    And then the table thudded, shifted slightly, and the fork clattered to the floor.

    Ah... so that¡¯s how it works.

    You just need to concentrate not on the action itself but on the specific point where you strike... and when there are many of these points, you¡¯ll need to remember each one... which is damn difficult when you¡¯re on the battlefield, and there¡¯s more than one of them. It seems that guy had some kind of visor that helped him remember all the points where he made contact...

    My worried mom... er, mother, ran into the kitchen.

    "Are you okay?! Did you fall, hurt yourself?"

    "Everything is more than okay," I smirked. "Now I know kung fu."

    "O_o."

 Episode 2. "The path forward". Part I.

    "Can you believe it? I actually have a superpower!"

    The impossible dream of a teenager from my world has come true! After all, it''s something I fantasized about (well, maybe about something less complicated, but still). And who wouldn''t dream of something like this in my old world? It''s like I spent my whole life dreaming about magic, and then I reincarnated in another world where it exists, and I have a talent for it! But it''s not magic, it''s a quirk... and I wouldn''t say I have a talent...

    In general, from this day on, my preparation to become a superhero skyrocketed.

    That same evening, I gathered my relatives in the kitchen and held a stern military council. I put the question bluntly:

    "Mom... Dad, I''m going to be a professional hero."

    And I stared firmly into their faces with the serious look of a four-year-old, as if to say: just try to argue!

    My eyes, by the way, are almost normal, without any mutations. Dark, with a constantly dilated pupil, as if I¡¯m on cocaine, and a narrow ring of blue iris. If you don¡¯t look closely, they¡¯re just ordinary Japanese... anime eyes. Quite round, with a European shape.

    And with white sclera, of course, I¡¯m not some X-Man... Although, I remember there will be a cute pink mutant girl in UA with black eyes...

    My father was naturally delighted by my declaration, felt proud, and was ready to support me in every way possible. My mother... well, she started lamenting, wringing her hands, and dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. I didn¡¯t expect anything different.

    But no one actively argued against it¡ªapparently, they also understood where everything was heading with such a stubborn me.

    To hammer the final nail into the coffin of any possible resistance (from my mother¡¯s side), I organized a demonstration of my undoubtedly combat-oriented Quirk. This time, outside in the park. A baseball (this is Japan, after all¡ªeveryone here who isn''t a hero or a villain is into baseball, though I personally would have preferred volleyball or football) ball hit a young tree I picked with such force that the trunk snapped, leaving my parents impressed.

    Although later, we had to pay a fine to the municipal services. Yeah. I hadn¡¯t thought about collateral damage. I suspect there will be at least one subject in the Academy where I¡¯ll have problems...

    And from the next morning, my favorite ¨C productive, time-consuming ¨C routine began!

    For the next two years ¨C while my body was still not developed enough for anything other than stretching, running, and general strengthening exercises, and no school classes interfered ¨C I focused entirely on developing my Quirk and understanding all its strengths and weaknesses.

    There were many strengths ¨C I could actually duplicate any of my hits in any spot, push, or throw any object from any position, and even with a fairly long distance (at least several tens of meters, regardless of whether the target was in sight) and for a long time, the ¡°charge¡± dissipated in about an hour.

    But there was one very big and serious ¡°But.¡± For the Quirk to work, I had to clearly remember the specific point of force application down to centimeters ¨C forget exactly where you hit or pushed, lose focus, blink at the wrong moment ¨C and it wouldn¡¯t work.

    It was difficult. Really difficult because it¡¯s one thing to constantly concentrate on one or two points, especially in familiar surroundings, and quite another ¨C on six! And especially in a fight... where you set these ¡°markers¡± in real-time... and when they are constantly changing, being used in new places and different points...

    When this thought came to mind, I would just bite my lip and silently go to train again, even if I had just returned from it. Unhealthy, of course... but right now, it mostly strained my brain, so it wasn¡¯t so scary ¨C there was no chance of hurting myself, just burning out. But I¡¯m in a shounen anime about overcoming obstacles! I need to match that, so to speak...

    Among the few ¡°peers¡± and their parents I might encounter, I gained a reputation as a withdrawn young genius. Meh, I just shook my head and asked not to distract me, remembering what and especially who I would have to face¡­ in less than ten years.

    No, seriously ¨C even without my adult and, I dare hope, disciplined mind, the original chubby Nirengeki got into UA, so one could relax. There were some completely helpless and clumsy guys even without him.

    But there was also that girl with vine-like hair she could control over vast areas, ignoring physics... and blonde Bakugo with superhuman reaction speed, capable of blowing up an entire building... and the runner-class president from Class A... what was his name, faster than any race car. And there¡¯s no way I could defeat any of them!

    And yet, I needed to aim not at them, but at the monsters who could wipe an entire city off the face of the Earth ¨C all the Todorokis who could burn the city down, all the Nomus who could destroy it with brute force, Tomura who could disintegrate any matter into atoms ¨C at a distance! ¨C and Gigantomachia or whatever that Godzilla is called...

    And even then, All Might, All For One, and potentially the main character of the anime, Midoriya, far surpass even this inhuman level...

    And there¡¯s me.

    And now I need to become not less strong, with only what I have at hand, to be able to influence the known future events. And the unknown ones too.

    It¡¯s almost a pity that I didn¡¯t stay in the world for another year in my past life and didn¡¯t watch the sixth season. Or read the manga.

    ¡°Ugh, stop regretting that you weren¡¯t an anime fan,¡± I told myself and went back to training.

    And so time went on... quietly, calmly, but... tough.

    Most of the time, I was incredibly busy and trained until I was blue in the face, and more than anything, my brain got tired. The good thing was that because of the concentration exercises and the flexible mind of a child (I don¡¯t know how this reincarnation thing works and what¡¯s going on in my brain), my overall attentiveness, ability to notice details, work capacity, memory... well, nothing special ¨C I¡¯m still not ¡°talented,¡± but a ¡°hardworking¡± type.

    I still couldn¡¯t activate multiple repetitions simultaneously. Judging by the feel, it won¡¯t work ¨C something inside tenses up and interferes as soon as I try to activate at least two strikes in different places at once. Only sequentially, waiting a bit after activating the previous one.

    As for two effects in the same place, that wasn¡¯t even up for discussion. I couldn¡¯t even place two ¡°markers,¡± each of which felt like an invisible weak link to some point in space, in one spot. So only if I first activated one effect, then marked the same place again, then activated it... so I had to forget about the uber-perk of cumulative strike effect with the resulting power of All Might.

    At least for now.

    Therefore, the priority task for the coming years was to minimize the time between placing a marker and activating the effect, which now was just under a second. Why?

    Because if I succeed ¨C and I do believe in this ¨C in achieving almost instant Quirk activation at the moment of placing the marker, I will be able to imitate the work of a strengthening-type Quirk! That is, essentially, I¡¯ll fight in close combat like Deku! True, I won¡¯t have his speed... but I¡¯ll be able to work at any distance, including long-range...

    That¡¯s if I can manage it.

    ...By the time I turned six in my new life, I could hold five or six points at once, ready for action, and during unhurried activation, I could replenish this list in about fifteen minutes. And I hoped that in the future, there would be more points and the activation speed would be higher.

    There was also a limit to the number of repetitions and points I could activate in succession, and it wasn¡¯t just limited by memory ¨C I had a couple of ideas for tracking important places.

    The other thing was that I got tired. Like all other 80% of gifted people, my Quirk consumed stamina like there was no tomorrow, and it was bad enough that I couldn¡¯t activate them simultaneously, but in any serious battle, I would have been exhausted and down in just a couple of minutes!

    This wouldn¡¯t do.

    I can¡¯t even remember how it looked, but the original chubby had some sort of device on one of his eyes that supposedly allowed him to remember such points.

    It¡¯s a good idea, but no ¨C I would prefer to rely on my brain if possible. Firstly, it¡¯s not a good idea to engage in direct contact with an opponent in close combat with such a fragile visor, but that makes sense ¨C that Niren was pure support from a distance. Secondly, in a world with users of technokinesis and electric (especially the latter) Quirks, relying on such devices is risky if not outright dangerous.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    By the way, despite my improved memory, I had long and hopelessly forgotten all the details of the anime... would have. But like any competent reincarnator, as soon as I could hold a pen, I immediately wrote down everything I remembered in a notebook. The messy handwriting followed me to the new world, so the mishmash of Russian, English, and Japanese written in Cyrillic turned out to be quite a cipher.

    Having finished recording this ¡°alternative chronology,¡± I thought for a moment ¨C and then started another stack of notebooks, where I began to write down, without a cipher, all the useful information about various Quirk users ¨C Heroes, Villains, my future allies and opponents, my own thoughts on the right tactics, tricks, superhero moves...

    In the process, the thought even arose to create a classification of Quirks for my own convenience, but... that¡¯s where I hit a complete wall: I wasn¡¯t the first to try, and even much smarter and more thorough specialists had suffered crushing defeats.

    The thing is that in any system for dividing skills into groups, so many exceptions are revealed that you start adding new subcategories, but even for them, there are exceptions, and you keep trying to divide and divide Quirks until you completely lose yourself in the thickets of sprawling skill trees.

    Not to mention that I had a total mental block just when I tried to classify my own Quirk into any group.

    In general, I couldn¡¯t do it alone. Maybe later, working with someone smart and science-oriented...

    Quirks ¨C got used to them. In fact, I even stopped calling them with a capital letter in my mind pretty quickly. As they say, people quickly get used to good things ¨C and it didn¡¯t take long for me to stop being amazed when I saw heroes flying through the air or jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Or not heroes.

    The only thing is that, initially raised in the realities of a completely different world, I still couldn¡¯t always look at passers-by without shuddering ¨C some Quirks deformed people so much that it was hard to recognize not just a person, but even a living organism in them.

    And this is a surprising moment. The society of this country, no, even most of the planet, was... tolerant. Truly civilized. People stopped looking at appearances and began to value the inner world of others first, their mind, their personal qualities...

    Only unicorns are missing, right?

    Of course, in reality, everything wasn¡¯t as rosy.

    Radicals and racists existed here too, but they were a very rare phenomenon or rather very carefully monitored and quickly neutralized by government services, which allowed minimal publicity.

    And of course, there was an invisible but significant division in society into ¡°castes.¡± Based primarily on my observations and feelings, I divided it into four conditional groups.

    The first could include the losers who didn¡¯t receive a Quirk at all. Many children, like Midoriya in the anime, became outcasts. Despite a generally civilized and cultured society, bullying flourished. Kids without Quirks were mocked and abused by more fortunate children, and this attitude didn¡¯t go away with age. Alienation, a constant unspoken reminder that you¡¯re worse, that you lost in the evolutionary lottery ¨C and that¡¯s not to mention the entirely legitimate advantage the gifted had when looking for a job.

    A thin invisible line separated the first group from the second, which could include my parents. Thin but unbreakable. Though these people, in most cases, could only create a rainbow, lengthen their fingers, or draw frost patterns on glass, they could ¨C and that was enough. Moreover, such simple people, in fact, made up the absolute majority ¨C and having not lost in the Quirk, they also won in appearance, retaining a human appearance.

    Yes. Human appearance... after reviewing political and sociological reports from the past twenty years, I concluded that the course toward tolerance of the appearance of ¡°people¡± who acquired seriously deforming Quirks arose primarily because significant changes in appearance were often associated with increased combat potential. I don¡¯t know whose bright idea this was first, but all humanity now owes this person for the humanity of our civilization.

    Otherwise, there would have been a war of extermination, and the victims would mostly have been those with dominant human features.

    So yes: the third caste in society was relatively few but mostly dangerous ¡°people¡± with pronounced anatomical Quirks. They were not to be touched, offended, or even avoided, but certainly not excluded from the collective or otherwise mistreated. Because it would have consequences.

    The law of strength in action, in general. Somewhere it¡¯s cushioned by the safety pads of tolerance, and somewhere it¡¯s bare, revealing unseemly crimes.

    Hence the absolute monolithic taboo on mocking the appearance of those with anatomical Quirks. Japanese culture, in general, has always (I¡¯ve been a native Japanese for seven years, I know my stuff!) been built on the principles of caste stratification and numerous behavioral restrictions, so this rule took root easily.

    What¡¯s ironic ¨C and would be familiar to people in my former world ¨C is that this taboo doesn¡¯t work in reverse. On normal people.

    And of course, rules are rules, but exceptions happen. Even the very high density among all the villains of those with inhuman appearance ¨C and here there are official government websites with profiles of wanted villains and heroes, can you imagine ¨C already hints at how well they live among more ordinary people.

    And yet such characters, albeit much less often, were found among the fourth category. Well, you guessed it yourself, right?

    Pro-Heroes. ¡°Puro-hiro.¡± A caste of semi-gods, Olympians, who have almost entirely replaced actors and athletes and even partly politicians. People follow their lives. They bet on them. They have fan clubs. Movies are made about them... in which many of them star as themselves. They have their own lines of clothing, perfumes, and shampoos.

    And merchandise...

    The anime repeatedly claimed that the extremely low crime rate (here it¡¯s necessary to emphasize that we¡¯re talking about successful crime, that is, where the criminal managed to escape/kill someone/kidnap something, etc., and not was caught and beaten) ¨C was entirely thanks to All Might. By the time I was seven, I found this claim quite debatable.

    You see, this low level exists worldwide, not just in Japan. Yes, All Might is capable of covering vast distances, and he has visited other countries more than once, and lived a third of his life in America, but in my opinion, it¡¯s not just because of him.

    I¡¯m still talking about merchandise. Seriously. This is the country that created and got hooked on manga and anime, which collaborates closely with America ¨C the consumer paradise. Comics are drawn about the supers, their prints are made on T-shirts, fanfics are written about them, selfies are taken with them, they are made into figurines, they are invited to talk shows, documentaries are made about them ¨C and all of this is sold (except for the fanfics, and even then, not always), and they receive popularity, money, connections, and opportunities for all of it...

    Do you understand how many people want to become heroes and fight crime?

    Those who ¡°can¡± and make it into the Top 100 Heroes of the country receive almost everything one could imagine and want. In exchange for public life, hellish training, and the risk of dying young and on the job, of course. But those are details.

    At least that¡¯s what all those who fall on these ¡°details¡± think. But there are so many of these ¡°everyone¡± that in every damn city, there¡¯s a patrol of young idiots with fanatical fire in their eyes. They don¡¯t make it into UA ¨C they go to other academies. They don¡¯t have the strength to become pros? They become sidekicks; one Endeavor has about twenty of them. They can¡¯t even get in? They become street vigilantes... and naturally, get beaten by the police and real heroes.

    But nevertheless, all this hype really drives real criminals deep underground. Crime doesn¡¯t like noise ¨C because if you make too much noise, a really big fish will swim in.

    Speaking of fish.

    ¡°By the way, animals don¡¯t have Quirks...¡± I would say if I didn¡¯t remember the principal of UA Academy. But the principal existed, and he was a mouse. Wild, crazy stuff. And yet, it is under the leadership of a mouse that has gained intelligence ¨C a genius mind that has nothing to do with humans, likely absolutely different in its logic, possibly perceiving all of humanity as the natural enemies of its biological species ¨C that the best professional Heroes of this world, called to protect humanity and promote moral and ethical values, are nurtured.

    Creepy.

    When this thought first came to me, I seriously wondered if there was a chance that this very mouse was the main villain of the franchise. Seriously: what if it was he, the mouse, who pitted the strongest groups of Japanese heroes and villains against each other, with the aim of simply wiping out most of the strong Quirk users?! And when, after a massive battle, there would be no one left who could oppose him, he would bring billions of mice and rats out of the sewers and dumps to finish off the survivors, gnawing on women and children, and no one would stop the rodents from eating and reproducing?...

    Sounds like a trashy horror movie.

    And no matter whether All Might, One For All, the government, or even the Yakuza wins, this fluffy creature with cold black eyes would be fine with any outcome!

    Brrr.

    But maybe he¡¯s a good guy after all?... this is still the universe of live-action teen cartoons...

    And if not?

    Anyway, I vowed to myself to prevent such a thing and expose the rodent when the time came.

    Meanwhile, as I said, I turned six. And no matter how special, smart, reincarnated, and so on I was, my parents enrolled me in elementary school in the first grade. And without any compromises ¨C that¡¯s the law.

    What can I say about school...

    A zoo, if summed up in one word.

    In Japan, as I knew from my previous world, the strategy for raising children is very, let¡¯s say, ¡°contrasting¡± ¨C in the early years, children are practically not restricted, not punished, and not scolded, which supposedly lays the foundations for a whole and strong personality.

    And then, as soon as a child fully enters society, dozens of strict and even harsh restrictions fall on them: how to behave in public, how to speak correctly, how to show the right emotions, how to show respect for elders, and so on.

    In addition, in the Japanese society I was familiar with, constrained by the high population density on the small area of the islands, the concept of ¡°not noticing¡± something that doesn¡¯t concern you was taken to the absolute. Hence the numerous incidents.

    In this Japan, fortunately, things were much simpler, mainly due to the heroes and their Quirks. Otherwise, I wasn¡¯t sure I would have the patience not to notice some crazy stuff ¨C but I didn¡¯t want to become an outcast either.

    Anyway, I managed ¨C and even in the class, in school, and during lessons, there was a fairly relaxed atmosphere where children freely used their Quirks (despite the public ban on their use), flooding the classroom with water, setting fire to curtains, sticking classmates together, flying in the air, stretching their limbs, growing hair, and who knows what else.

    I tried to sit in the corner, away from all these little monsters, and pretend I wasn¡¯t with them, and generally, I was an adult and goal-oriented guy. I was becoming a true Japanese before my very eyes...

    In the first week, some budding bullies with conditionally combat Quirks (like, can you imagine having toothy mouths opening all over your body) approached me, but a single public demonstration of power ¨C a desk cracking and tilting from a light slap of my hand (they wouldn¡¯t know how much time I trained for that) ¨C was enough for them not to bother me for all six years of elementary education.

    And yes, I had to pay for the collateral damage again.

    The years flew by even faster...

 Episode 2. Part II.

    In general, despite the distracting and occasionally annoying duties like cleaning the room, I liked school. It was fun and somewhat cozy, and the colorful bustle of my young classmates amused me and made me smile. No one bothered me, and being the "Democratic Republic of Niren" suited me just fine.

    Of course, none of the school assignments posed any challenges for me, but, firstly, my handwriting and pronunciation were still far from perfect, and, secondly, who said that classes in a school overlooking a large park, where kids run during breaks, would prevent me from training?

    As a result, while we were hitting the books, every now and then, tiles cracked, branches broke, and even trees fell in that square (I couldn¡¯t always control my strength). Teachers, caretakers, and even the parents'' committee (my parents would silently exchange glances and sigh) naturally tried to find the culprit, but as a true professional Hero, even if just a beginner, I kept silent and did not admit my guilt. I had no time to waste on your school nonsense; I needed to cultivate! Ahem... I mean, train...

    At seven and a half years old, I decided that I was strong enough and began looking for a dojo to train in martial arts. Theoretically, I might have had some problems if one of the masters noticed that I wasn¡¯t learning something new but rather relearning¡ªestablished stances, perfected strikes, ingrained reflexes, practiced blocks, and distancing techniques... But after some thought, I dismissed the idea: this young body had no muscle memory associated with fighting.

    Moreover, Krav Maga, which possibly doesn¡¯t even exist in this world, while being a highly functional self-defense discipline, is also quite limited. It sacrifices mobility and speed in favor of maximum stability (for example, the basic stance with legs spread wide and feet turned inward, in which the fighter resembles a crab).

    Given that I have no, and am unlikely to develop, any defense against the attacks of all these monsters that live here among people, speed and mobility become the top priorities. So, my old fighting style¡ªcrouching with knees bent, covering the body and head with a block, carefully feeling the ground behind with my heel¡ªis completely unsuitable.

    After a couple of weeks, I found a dojo a few blocks from home, where the master¡ªa sturdy, mustached blond of indeterminate nationality¡ªwas teaching a dozen boys and girls a brutal mix of Muay Thai, Judo, and Karate.

    I lost my trial sparring match to a stronger peer¡ªmy body¡¯s motor skills and overall physical condition were still far from ideal (of course, using quirks was strictly prohibited). But I was accepted nonetheless. And with a sigh, I began to relearn. Something familiar, yet entirely different.

    ***

    Incidentally, I didn¡¯t notice any tendency toward gaining weight in my new body. Either that Niren hadn¡¯t immediately decided to become a hero and had let himself go, or I still had the ¡°pigging out¡± phase to experience during puberty. In any case, I looked like a regular skinny kid (with pale blue hair, yep). Sullen, unsociable, and tired most of the time.

    ***

    Two months after I turned ten, the world was shaken by the news of a devastating battle between All Might and a rather infamous and powerful villain nicknamed Toxin-Saw (yes, seriously, that¡¯s his actual name! And you can even Google the photos). After a prolonged fight, Toxin was stopped and captured. No matter how strong he was, he was no match for the Symbol of Peace. Such things happen quite often, so everything seemed fine...

    But then, the oddities began, which attracted all sorts of conspiracy theorists. Some of them suggested that there had been more than one villain: firstly, the very idea that someone could put up a real fight against Hero Number One was terrifying¡ªit''s a prerequisite for a prolonged battle. Toxin was formidable, ruthless, and strong, but not that strong. Secondly, there were panicked posts online suggesting that All Might had been severely injured¡ªwith photos circulating of the battleground, which had turned into a flat desert completely soaked in blood.

    Supporting this theory was the fact that the second villain (if there had been one) escaped from the scene, and that All Might himself, contrary to his usual practice, did not give an interview after the fight and disappeared somewhere.

    Of course, these defeatist rumors were quickly squashed: there were no witnesses to the battle, the hero reappeared in public quite soon (within a couple of weeks), saving people as if nothing had happened, and such comments and posts were suspiciously quickly erased.

    People sighed with relief, and everything returned to normal...

    As for me, knowing a bit more than the others due to watching the anime in my previous life, I could only bite my lip and train, train, train... All Might hadn¡¯t fought Toxin; All Might had fought All for One¡ªhis arch-nemesis and possibly one of the first and oldest quirk users among all the people alive today.

    All-for-One, also known as the man (although more likely something much more than a man) with the surname Shigaraki¡ªwhich I somehow managed to remember from my previous life¡ªwas a shadowy figure. It was impossible to find any mention of such a person or of a quirk that allowed him to literally for centuries collect, steal, accumulate, combine, and even gift almost any other person¡¯s superpowers, growing stronger and more dangerous over time.

    But he existed. The gray cardinal of the criminal world existed in the series and was the main threat to the civilized world, and I had no reason yet to doubt the canonical story I had once watched on an old laptop as a terminally ill invalid...

    All-for-One. Sounds greedy. Yeah, there¡¯s no way he came up with that name for the quirk himself... But if not him, then who?

    In any case, quirks appeared a little over two centuries ago. And All-for-One lived through that time. As I understood it, Shigaraki¡¯s longevity was also due to some quirk, probably of the regenerative type. Although if he had it, I don¡¯t understand why he couldn¡¯t restore his face in the future¡ªsmashed, by the way, in this very battle a couple of weeks ago. On the other hand, it would be foolish to assume that an endlessly powerful and cunning being like him hadn¡¯t stolen a powerful regeneration ability over decades of existence. If I were in his place, that would have been the first power I¡¯d acquire, and I think it¡¯s extremely dangerous to consider this monster less intelligent than myself.

    Apparently, this quirk (or those) is what allowed him to survive now...

    And yes¡ªthe good guy All Might was indeed injured in this fight...

    If you can call losing a left lung, stomach, several ribs, and undergoing a dozen surgeries an injury. And that¡¯s only what I remember from ten years ago. In the series, I think he was literally missing a chunk of his torso...

    Time was running out.

    The countdown to losing all of Toshinori¡¯s strength... (I can¡¯t remember the rest, and of course, I didn¡¯t find his alter ego online) - also known as All Might, the owner of the quirk ¡°One for All,¡± the Symbol of Peace, and the strongest hero on the planet¡ªwas already ticking. I had only a few years left... five and a half to be precise. And I was still stuck in the same place, not making any progress!

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Come on, Niren, push yourself, let¡¯s go!

    The dream of a lifetime is so close, just a little more to go¡ªget into U.A. and survive! Come on! Well?! COME ON!

    ***

    By the age of twelve, I managed to place about half a dozen markers close together¡ªnot quite in the same spot but very close, just a couple of centimeters apart.

    I also learned to activate several of them simultaneously, both nearby and in different locations.

    And most importantly, I managed to reduce the activation speed of the quirk to fractions of a second, literally turning two impacts¡ªmy own weak human strike and the much more powerful impact of the quirk¡ªinto one superhuman blow.

    And with that, I could say I had closed a multi-year chapter of my life.

    Of course, all this was with the caveat that I was in the physical form of a wiry twelve-year-old, so the result was closer to the punch of a regular trained man rather than a natural disaster like One for All. Moreover, the enhancement was directly proportional to the effort put into the trigger strike.

    Nevertheless, now, if I slammed that unfortunate desk with my hand, I¡¯d simply break it.

    And¡­ basically, in this world, I had been preparing to become a Pro Hero almost from birth. If you consider my previous life¡­ you could say even before that.

    From time to time, when I looked at myself in the mirror, I would ask myself: was it worth it?

    It had been many years since I was close to anyone in any sense.

    Right now, I didn¡¯t have any friends¡ªother kids avoided the determined ¡°genius¡± with the work ethic of an adult, and it¡¯s unlikely we would have found common topics to talk about anyway. Unless¡­ heroes?

    But I already kept up with all the latest news and rumors¡ªI regularly monitored news reports, dug through forums, and as a result, constantly updated my ¡°library¡± of knowledge.

    Recently, the Winged Hero, the incredibly talented Hawks, seemingly out of nowhere, immediately took the twentieth spot in the hero rankings in the country and was even given responsibility for an entire district of the city. However, we kno-o-ow that he has the full support of the government apparatus behind him.

    But even without such a cheat support, the well-known Rabbit Hero Miruko was successfully climbing the hero ranks.

    And All Might returned from another mission in America. Once again, he defeated some powerful villain whom Captain Celebrity couldn¡¯t handle¡­

    And my name is Niren. I am twelve biological years old, lying on the school roof under the sun and clear sky, not defeating villains, not saving people, and not working as a hero.

    So why does every day of mine feel like a fight, a battle to the death? A battle where I have no choice but to give my all? A battle I lose every day?!

    ¡­ but the sky doesn¡¯t answer.

    And the kid with the same hair color as this sky has to find the answer himself.

    At this stage, I obviously couldn¡¯t have any rivals my age in any field of education or physical training¡ªin a few years, I was the best fighter in my dojo (in my weight class, of course, but that¡¯s without accounting for the quirk), and if training didn¡¯t take so much time, I think I would have already earned a remote degree in IT, for example.

    I never really developed any hobbies, despite the universe giving me a second chance, because I relentlessly pursued my goal, regardless of obstacles and sacrifices (and how could it be otherwise? The dream of my first childhood had merged with the question of survival). Well, I guess you could say I learned a foreign language.

    In general, I felt lonely and worn out.

    I graduated from elementary school as an honor student in all subjects and with good recommendations. However, I was so indifferent to it that I handed over the important and honorable valedictory speech to my class president and simply skipped the ceremony, lying on the school roof, staring at the clouds¡­

    Maybe I was just burned out?

    The main thing was not to develop a full-fledged depression because then I would have to get treatment, and that could affect my chances of getting into U.A¡­

    Due to this overwhelming melancholy, the choice of junior high (for the next three years of my life) passed completely unnoticed for me¡ªmy parents tried to ask questions, but I wasn¡¯t interested in any details. The only thing that mattered was that the diploma would be recognized when applying to U.A.

    Also, I had to leave my dojo.

    It¡¯s not that I considered it my home, but I had gotten used to it, and it was conveniently located¡­ However, the master publicly declared that I was a damn genius whom he had nothing more to teach. I just grimaced in response to this wild exaggeration because that wasn¡¯t the issue¡ªthe issue was my own concerns, which I had discussed with the sensei the day before: I was enhancing strikes almost reflexively now, and striving to do so, so I was afraid of injuring sparring partners without protection.

    I needed other heroes. Ones with combat quirks¡ªdefensive, enhancing, long-range attacks¡ªand a safe, fortified place¡­ like a training ground¡­ that would stay intact.

    But such training places aren¡¯t lying around on the streets. And I wasn¡¯t ready to hit the streets looking for villainous trouble just yet.

    Of course, there are numerous hero training centers and facilities, but they¡¯re only for students of certain schools and professionals. And at my age, no one would let me in¡­

    Another month passed in fruitless (and frankly lazy, to be honest) attempts to find such a place.

    And then¡­

    April.

    The trees along the wide alley were entirely pink. The delicate and juicy sakura petals slowly floated by¡­

    No, not like that.

    The clich¨¦d, vulgar chunks of trees, the color of raw meat, rained down underfoot and were stomped into the mud.

    Now that¡¯s closer to my emotions.

    Cheerful, frightened, and focused¡ªdifferent in general¡ªschoolboys and schoolgirls in brand-new uniforms walked in pairs, groups, and alone toward some massive brick-shaped building¡­ For them, if not a holiday, then certainly an Event.

    I, however, felt nothing but boredom and a slight nostalgia for a Soviet September 1st ceremony.

    The whole day passed in this manner¡ªpompous opening ceremony, getting to know the school, getting to know the schedule, getting to know the teachers, getting to know, getting to know¡­

    I was lazily cycling through the same thoughts I¡¯d already mulled over a hundred times.

    Over the past few years, I had revisited this idea many times and eventually decided not to change history as much as possible. Maybe it''s selfishness. Maybe I could have warned the government, All Might, or his former sidekick about the League of Villains or All for One''s plans (why not? Who knows what quirk a kid might have to see the future?), but¡­ no.

    By staying under the radar now, I would save my essentially one-time trump card of knowledge about the future for later¡ªand I would be able to play it in the most advantageous situation. It¡¯s a one-time card because as soon as I change anything, even a small detail, the entire plot of this anime-reality might go off the rails, and as a result, there''s no guarantee I''d live to see the next evening.

    Although that''s what I think now, in a calm setting. What will I do when I have the power to save a good person, but the right thing to do would be to run away?..

    I doubt I¡¯ll run.

    What kind of hero would I be then?

    Ugh¡­

    For the same reasons¡ªtrump card, preparation, paranoia¡ªI decided to hide all information about my quirk as much as possible and give it an absolutely vague name when it¡¯s time to register (this also applies to my superhero nickname).

    Moreover, considering my not entirely unsuccessful efforts to adapt my quirk for close combat, I could actually position myself as a holder of a regular strength quirk, like that of Rabbit Hero Miruko, ¡°sugar¡± hero Sato who consumes sweets for a temporary boost, or the main character Midoriya in the first seasons.

    That way, I¡¯d have a hidden ace up my sleeve¡ªnot just an ace, but a whole royal flush of combat surprises for any enemy who wouldn¡¯t expect that I could be more dangerous at a distance. And I could¡ªby this time, I had already eliminated the gap from myself in World A and could activate the quirk from at least half a kilometer away.

    And all of this is very relevant¡ªthere was definitely someone in U.A. who was leaking information to All for One. There was a rat in the Academy. A rat¡­ Hm¡­ That¡¯s a MOUSE!

    ***

    So there I sat.

    Pensive, aloof, and solitary. Like a Shoda cosplay of a certain Shoto from one anime¡ªnot existing, however, in this world.

    And then¡­

    At the moment of the first meeting with future classmates, the world stopped with the sound of a stuck record.

    I saw a young but already quite formed brunette, very pretty, with well-defined facial features...

    Someone I had definitely seen in that same anime. The only one that mattered now.

    It seems the canon is catching up with me.

    <u>Illustrations:</u><u></u>

    The original Nirengeki Shoda in all his spherical glory.

    Our Niren ¡ª when he grows up ¡ª as interpreted by the artistCHORT_ SENSEI (fan art).

    And here¡¯s something about Niren¡¯s projectiles, training, and his quirk in general. The canonical Nirengeki throws a baseball and then enhances its momentum in flight, changing its trajectory at the same time. He says "Twin Impact" first, and then during the activation of the marker, he says "Fire." Funny guy.

    That moment was probably when I thought for the first time, "Wow, this guy uses his Quirk in an extremely lame way!" And that¡¯s how Thorny Path of a Pro-Hero was born.

 Episode 3. "Moving side by side".

    Even in my previous life, American cinema firmly implanted in my mind the concept and image of morning jogs¡ªdawn, breath visible in the cold air, a hoodie, headphones in, and an empty street. A frozen world. Perhaps a seaside or a bridge over a strait. Monotonous movements, steady breathing¡ªand you, alone with the whole city.

    Needless to say, reality rarely matched this picture in that world. I didn¡¯t live there, my schedule was different, and I made the wrong choices¡­

    Fortunately, I was given another chance.

    The technology in this world was much more advanced and significantly more accessible, so it was easy for me to buy cool, compact speakers with awesome bass and surround sound, even with my pocket money. And the sneakers here¡ªfantastic! Or rather, perfect for running¡­

    Quietly closing the door¡ªmy parents were still asleep¡ªI slipped out onto the quiet, deserted street.

    It was dark.

    In general, going out at night in the city¡ªin this world¡ªis not the wisest idea. However, our neighborhood is quite calm, All Might is back in Japan, and any unfortunate criminal who decides to bother me will be unpleasantly surprised.

    After a light warm-up, I stretched with pleasure and set off at a steady pace towards my new training hall, flickering as a gray shadow under the streetlights.

    Yes, the hall! I found it. And, moreover, I now have the perfect sparring partner!

    But it¡¯s better to go in order...

    When I saw that brunette girl in class, I immediately realized that in front of me was none other than Momo Yaoyorozu.

    In the future¡ªa brilliant UA student, an extremely promising hero, a straight-A student, an incredibly beautiful girl (well, yeah, with that kind of costume), and the owner of probably the most overpowered Quirk among all those I remember¡ªshe can create any not alive objects on the surface of any part of her body if she knows its structure and composition. I probably would have conquered the world if my consciousness had ended up in her body (but luckily, there was no gender-bending).

    Seriously, who else could it be?

    And¡­ I was absolutely wrong.

    Because on the first day, all students in Japan thoroughly introduce themselves, and within a couple of minutes, I heard (barely, because she speaks very quietly) that yes¡ªthis girl indeed wants to become a hero and plans to enroll in UA Academy (which caused an excited buzz among our classmates), but her name is different: Yui.

    Yui Kodai.

    My brain crashed like a blue screen.

    In response to someone¡¯s question about her Quirk, the mysterious stranger replied that she "can make things smaller or bigger."

    Then, snapping out of it, I remembered everything and chided myself for foolishness and forgetfulness.

    Yes, in the anime, it was indeed like this: some characters from Class 1-B seemed to copy the appearance and, to some extent, the Quirks of the main plot characters from Class 1-A. Previously, I would have said that the mangaka was just making less work for himself. But now, living in this world¡­

    I think it¡¯s just a coincidence.

    It¡¯s unlikely that one person could create an entire universe¡­ right?

    In any case, I was the one who messed up in this situation: even in this world, I had read about Yaoyorozu online and knew that she was being homeschooled with the best tutors. Not only was Momo from a very wealthy family¡ªlikely undergoing screening at the best clinics with the most accurate diagnostics¡ªbut, possessing such an incredible Quirk, she was on the radar of the Japanese government and the Quirk control agency from the age of four, as one of those who would be recommended for training at UA in the future, as I know for sure from the anime, as the best hero school.

    How does it all work? When talented¡ªand dangerous¡ªchildren are placed in the school, it¡¯s not just to teach them how to use their Quirk adequately and safely, benefiting society, but also for full psychological and ideological indoctrination. Hence the hero cult in society¡ªwhy would you need anything more when you already have everything?

    And if the same Momo isn¡¯t valued enough by the state, and she herself isn¡¯t sufficiently attached to it by family, honor, ethical principles, and material benefits, she could very well decide to, for example, synthesize antimatter and play the part of a suicide bomber.

    To ¡°play the hero¡±, so to speak.

    And, if I understand her Quirk correctly, we¡¯re not talking about a half-gram portion, which would be enough for Hiroshima (by the way, the bombings didn¡¯t happen in this world), but about half a kilogram of antimatter, which would wipe out all of Japan and half of Asia from the face of the Earth. Or even destroy the entire planet.

    In my old world, a child like that would probably have been shot on sight. Better safe than sorry. But here, it¡¯s a more tolerant and civilized society¡­ so they probably took great care in preparing the girl, likely planning to position her as one of Japan¡¯s strategic weapons on the political stage in the future.

    Yeah.

    It¡¯s strange, of course, that with such a thorough system of government control over truly dangerous superpowers, Tomura Shigaraki, one of the main villains of the anime, was completely overlooked by them. His Quirk, in potential, is no less terrifying than Momo¡¯s "Creation," but unlike hers, it doesn¡¯t require any academic knowledge or years of training. Just¡­ destruction.

    No doubt the main villain, All-for-One, made sure that no one saved the guy from himself when there was a chance.

    I sighed. Tomura is probably already a villain and even a murderer of his own family. But how could I have helped him?..

    Meanwhile, at the request of the other children and after receiving an approving nod from the homeroom teacher, the girl Yui demonstrated her Quirk: she borrowed an ordinary hairbrush from a classmate, touched it with her palm, and with a crash, enlarged it to the size of a chair. The kids were thrilled, the girl stood modestly (she¡¯s very quiet, almost shy) by the board, fiddling with the edge of her skirt, while I frowned and analyzed the combat potential of such a Quirk.

    In general, yes, she did the same thing in the anime.

    I¡¯ve long since stopped tearing my hair out trying to figure out how such Quirks work: where, for example, does the excess mass come from? What happens to the molecules of a substance when its size changes? Does the acceleration remain if the object is, for example, falling and increases in size in the process? Also, do the atoms in the object proportionally increase in number while retaining the same form, or do the atoms themselves grow in size (I don¡¯t even know which is scarier)? And what the heck happens to such objects if they break while being enlarged?

    No answer. Neither my attempts nor those made by the largest research laboratories have been able to understand how most Quirks work, so it¡¯s better not to think about it too much: it exists, it works. That¡¯ll save your nerves.

    What¡¯s more important is this: I think in the anime she just threw bolts and screws, and they would enlarge mid-flight (let¡¯s not forget to note that her Quirk activates with a delay of about two or three seconds) while continuing to fly (which means the momentum is somehow conserved¡­ or maybe it increases proportionally with the object? Ugh¡­), and¡­ that¡¯s it?

    Are you kidding? This Quirk is also an incredibly powerful force if used intelligently, isn¡¯t it? Maybe there are some limitations that I don¡¯t know about yet? Hmm¡­ Or maybe I should just demonstrate to her how irrational it is to use her Quirk like that and explain how to do it properly? I could turn her into an S-rank hero. Wait, but why? I decided not to change the canon for as long as possible. And is this really my business? No, definitely not¡­

    That¡¯s when I realized everyone was looking at me, expecting something.

    Oh¡­ I need to introduce myself, go to the board¡­

    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Niren Shoda, and I¡¯ll be enrolling at UA,¡± I briefly said as I walked up to the board, completely (not in the mood) ignoring the socially accepted formalities, though still remaining within the bounds of politeness.

    And I sat back down right away.

    The teacher, likely a bit taken aback by the fact that I was behaving more like a delinquent despite being a straight-A student on the record, suggested:

    ¡°Well, Niren-kun¡­ maybe you could at least show us your Quirk?¡±

    I smirked:

    ¡°It¡¯s an enhancement type.¡±

    A chorus of envious sighs echoed through the classroom.

    Of course¡ªit¡¯s a universal and purely combat-focused Quirk, not exactly rare, but rare enough that almost all young people dream of having something like it.

    That¡¯s when I caught the attentive gaze of this¡­ Yui.

    Yes, darling, we¡¯re rivals now¡­ although, ideally, both you and I will get into UA. But you don¡¯t know that.

    And, in any case, the fact that you¡¯re using your Quirk at five percent efficiency¡ªthat¡¯s not my problem.

    The rest of the day, no one bothered me, and I was left to my thoughts.

    And here¡¯s what I came up with: why not, since I¡¯m already encountering the canon, use my knowledge of it to my advantage¡ªright now? There shouldn¡¯t be much harm to the original timeline from this, right¡­

    Thinking this way, I resumed my search for a dojo, but this time, instead of looking for just any training base, I specifically sought out characters I was familiar with from the anime. Some of the UA students must have been training somewhere before enrolling. Many of them already knew martial arts during the entrance exams. For example, that guy with the drills for hands. Or that funny dude with the big tail from Class 1-A¡­

    What was his name¡­ I glanced at the very first of my hero notes, where I had written down everything I remembered from the anime. Ah¡­ very useful. No first name, no last name¡ªnot written down, didn¡¯t remember. Well, to hell with it. He was into martial arts, right? And he had a big tail. He¡¯s my age¡­ blonde¡­ lives in Japan¡­

    A search on the internet quickly turned up an article about the winner of a regional school karate championship held a couple of years ago¡ªnone other than Mashirao Ojiro.

    With a name, things moved faster, and as I suspected, the guy turned out to be from a family of tail-wielding martial arts enthusiasts, though he was more talented and ¡°tail-endowed¡± than the rest. And his family did indeed run a fairly large training hall¡­ and there¡¯s the address.

    That¡¯s where I went the next day, after finishing all the torturous school nonsense. It¡¯s funny¡ªthis institution annoys me more in a few days than elementary school did in six years. Wear their uniform with a blazer, respect your senior ¡°senpais,¡± don¡¯t yawn in class¡­

    Anyway, I was heading to the dojo with a fair amount of skepticism. After all, what I really needed was a decent partner for ¡°my fist meets your face, and you defend,¡± not just a training hall. I can train by myself on some construction site. Sigh.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    To be honest, when watching the anime, I considered Mashirao to be the most useless character in the entire show.

    I mean, seriously, what does he have? A tail, for crying out loud? That¡¯s his whole Quirk? What can he do with it? Swat away flies? Tickle a villain with the brush at the end? I get that not every super can be compared to Endeavor or All Might, but there has to be some limit to reason. What will he do if he faces an opponent with a strong offensive Quirk? Or¡ªwhat will he do if he encounters a quirkless loser with a gun? Yes, this is Japan, it¡¯s hard to get a gun here, it¡¯s completely banned for civilians, but criminals have them! And you can run into one just on the street, while the tailed guy is from UA, the elite of the elite. He risks running into villains like Overhaul or Stain every day. And dying.

    What¡¯s the point of his training if he¡¯s so useless in the long run?

    God, how wrong I was.

    The ¡°dojo¡± turned out to be a fairly large complex with lots of extensions. Since I had contacted them in advance, a pretty girl with a ponytail was already waiting for me behind the first door. Pleasantly surprised by my age, she led me through a couple of corridors to a large, clearly reinforced hall. Along the way, I even gave in to a boyish impulse and knocked on the hall¡¯s wall with my knuckles¡ªit responded with nothing less than a metallic ring. Wonderful!

    Inside, the hall was familiar¡ªhigh ceilings, mats on the floor, half a dozen kids in various degrees of coolness in their kimonos training under the watchful eye of a moderately strict senpai.

    The owner of the place turned out to be¡­ a tall, blonde, mustached man, just like my previous master.

    I raised my eyebrows in confusion. Is the author out of ideas? Or did the Matrix run out of memory?

    However, upon closer inspection, this man, who turned out to be none other than Akira Ojiro, the future hero¡¯s father, also had a tail¡ªthin, with a tuft, resembling a lion¡¯s. And he himself looked like a lion¡ªjust as shaggy and dangerous.

    At the moment, the tail was slightly bristling, like a ¡°pipe,¡± so to speak.

    The man was in a bad mood:

    ¡°So, it was you who wrote yesterday and arranged the trial sparring with Mashi? I thought it would be someone older and stronger, but you¡­¡±

    He scanned me skeptically from head to toe. I calmly met his gaze, occasionally distracted by his tail.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Akira-sensei grumbled, ¡°Have you competed anywhere? Do you have a belt? A dan? And did you come here alone? What if you get injured¡ªwho am I supposed to answer to?¡±

    I raised my hands:

    ¡°My family knows where I am and has no objections. And I trained at Toga-sensei''s dojo¡ªI received excellent recommendations, as you surely know yourself.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±

    ¡°If possible, Ojiro-sensei, why don¡¯t you see for yourself? If I¡¯m an untrained hack, you can kick me out in ten minutes, right?¡±

    The man snorted:

    ¡°Ten minutes, you say¡­ well, yeah, let¡¯s see if you can last even one to start. Do you even have a Quirk, kid?¡±

    ¡°I do. An enhancement type.¡±

    His gaze immediately became much more serious:

    ¡°Yeah, I remember you mentioned it in your letter¡­ are you in control?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely.¡±

    ¡°Powerful?¡±

    ¡°I think so,¡± I said, mesmerized by the patterns Akira¡¯s tail was drawing in the air. It seemed to convey the slightest nuances of his mood. ¡°But I won¡¯t use it until I¡¯m one hundred percent sure I won¡¯t harm anyone.¡±

    The man thought for a moment, his mustache twitching ominously.

    Finally, he sighed heavily:

    ¡°Alright. But only because Toga really spoke highly of you¡­ and keep in mind¡ªI¡¯m watching you.¡±

    I silently bowed.

    ***

    Ojiro Family Dojo "Jade Lion", Martial Arts Master Akira Ojiro.

    The same time.

    Akira-sensei cleared the space for sparring (having to drag away an overly enthusiastic nephew by his fluffy ear), called his son from the other end of the hall, introduced the boys to each other¡ªand gave the signal. The match began.

    He was skeptical. Now, to train on par with twelve-year-old Mashirao, one would already need either a similar mutation in physical parameters or, indeed, an enhancement Quirk. But ¡°enhancers¡± are worth their weight in gold, and there aren¡¯t many of them. Rare things, in short.

    If this Niren has such a Quirk¡ªthen why hasn¡¯t anyone heard of him? He hasn¡¯t won any championships, nor has anyone recommended him to UA.

    And if he doesn¡¯t¡­ well, this wouldn¡¯t be the first friendly sparring match where Mashi-chan completely wins in search of a worthy opponent.

    And besides¡­ Akira himself no longer dares to engage in a full fight with his son. If that kid gets him with his sledgehammer¡ªit won¡¯t be pretty!

    Meanwhile, the bout started sluggishly. His son was displaying his usual courtesy and restraint, allowing the guest to showcase himself, while the ¡°guest¡± was being cautious. Akira frowned. Yes, there¡¯s logic in that, but time in his dojo isn¡¯t unlimited. Move it, move it!

    The pace picked up, and Niren attacked energetically, going for two levels at once¡ªa low kick to the knee and immediately a straight right punch. Well, his punch is well-trained¡­ the block rang out sharply as Mashi-chan countered with his left. The blue-haired kid¡¯s technique was on point, no doubt about it. After bouncing back, the boy used the momentum to spin and kick, but this predictable attack was stopped by Mashirao¡¯s tail.

    And then came a counterattack with that tail. Not even a Whirlwind Roll or a Dance, just a simple strike, hitting the arms set up in a proper block¡­

    The blue-haired kid was thrown across the hall, tumbling to a stop on his back.

    Akira hummed approvingly into his thick mustache: the boy had managed to more or less roll with the impact, avoiding injuries, except for a few scrapes. Still, the blow must have been devastating, primarily for his self-esteem¡ªso the master expected that this Niren (what a strange name) would realize the vast gap between him and Mashirao, and leave the dojo on his own accord.

    Akira was wrong.

    Still lying on his back, the blue-haired boy suddenly smirked and clapped both hands on the floor beside him¡­ causing something like a powerful shockwave that literally lifted him back onto his feet.

    A chill ran down the sensei''s spine.

    Cracking his neck and stretching, the boy said:

    ¡°Knocking you down is a pleasure, Mr. Anderson.¡±

    And he launched an attack, initiating the second round. Frowning and trying to understand the meaning of the strange phrase, Akira almost missed the moment when the dynamics of the fight suddenly changed. Niren began to strike sharper and more fiercely, literally exploding with a series of punches (¡°Could it be that he wasn¡¯t showing everything he was capable of, but was just testing the opponent, as he mentioned earlier?¡± flashed through the sensei¡¯s mind), and at the moment when Mashirao blocked the last strike with his tail-Quirk, there was a bang¡­

    This time it was his son who was getting up from the floor on the other side of the hall.

    The onlookers, consisting of family members who had paused their training or rushed in from other buildings to watch, had their eyes bulging. Mashirao Ojiro¡ªhe¡¯s preparing to enter UA, everyone knows that! And here¡­

    Quickly scanning Mashi-chan for injuries¡ªand finding none¡ªAkira-sensei smiled in satisfaction. Toga-kun wasn¡¯t lying, oh no, he wasn¡¯t¡­ finally, a worthy sparring partner has been found!

    ***

    Niren.

    Oh, crap¡­ how everything hurt after the fight!

    Bruised forearms, battered knuckles, bruises on my ribs and thighs, a few scrapes¡­ and my palms felt like they were on fire! Why was that happening?

    Well, who cares. That¡¯s not the important part.

    Forget what I said about that damn tail!

    Yes, he only has a tail, but WHAT A TAIL! It¡¯s not just a tail; it¡¯s a huge, flexible log! Size really does matter¡­

    Not only is the muscle covering this log as hard as steel¡ªso much so (I had the chance to assess it) that it could probably block a bullet without much harm to itself, at most it might get stuck¡ªbut he also swings that log around like I swing¡­ my¡­ I really should come up with a name for my Quirk, by the way¡­ and on top of that, he can fight as well as I can.

    In short, a beast.

    Surprisingly, we turned out to be almost perfect sparring partners¡ªI can hit hard, he can block that hit, he can hit hard, I can¡­ well, yeah. And overall, it¡¯s a very engaging experience¡ªfighting an opponent who knows martial arts at your level but has one more limb than you do.

    By the way, I liked Mashirao as a person too. Calm, thoughtful, and, most importantly, without any star syndrome. Hardworking as hell. And unlike me, who treated it as a tool for achieving specific goals, Mashi-kun was genuinely passionate about martial arts (all of them, it seemed, without exception), knew a ton of facts about them, and truly had a talent that put my persistence and determination to shame.

    And he, like me, had been preparing for UA since he was four years old¡­

    To my surprise, I found that this, essentially still a boy, could very well understand what it was like for me, and we had quite a few topics in common to talk about.

    The fight itself, as well as the hundreds of subsequent routine sparring matches in the following days, revealed one very big problem I have.

    I lack speed.

    Basically, I¡¯m just a physically fit kid with typical human capabilities. Yes, give me the time to prepare, ¡°mine¡± the battlefield, and I¡¯d be able to give even the best heroes¡­ I mean villains¡­ a run for their money. But they¡¯re rarely polite enough to give such an opportunity.

    Right now, I wasn¡¯t even able to keep up with someone like Mashirao¡ªtrained, but essentially ordinary¡ªsimply because he had one more limb.

    If I don¡¯t figure out how to transfer the properties of my Quirk, or, I don¡¯t know, start using some high-tech gadgets like roller skates or something in my future superhero costume, I¡¯m done for in the first serious fight. That¡¯s the way it is.

    By the way, my ¡°Agent Smith¡± style lift-off deserves a mention. I¡¯ve been thinking for a long time about how I did that¡­ and I still don¡¯t get it. I had to shrug it off and put it on the back burner¡ªthis wasn¡¯t the last sparring match against a strong opponent¡­

    ***

    This morning, despite a good run and equally good mood, the training didn¡¯t go well. Mashirao beat me again, and this time he did it without breaking a sweat and even delivered the first knockout¡ªsomething that, in the context of my psychological age (or maybe despite it), irritated me immensely.

    It went like this: I dodged a wide spinning kick over my head, dove in for a sweep, and seeing that he couldn¡¯t dodge in time, I was sure the round would be mine!

    But that tailed bastard just slammed his log-tail on the floor and, changing his movement trajectory, simply jumped over me (flying three meters forward and one meter up).

    And simultaneously smacked me in the forehead with his knee as hard as he could.

    ¡­ Oh, the room is spinning¡­

    ¡­ Hey, Mashirao, when did you master the duplication Quirk?..

    ¡­ Niren, are you alright?..

    ... Ugh¡­

    After pulling myself together, I felt downhearted.

    Not only did I have to endure a medical check for a concussion¡ªthough I had seen nothing wrong with a mild TBI even back in my previous life, where I was into extreme sports¡ªnot only was I knocked out by a twelve-year-old, but¡­ even the guy I considered useless just a month ago was progressing rapidly, coming up with new moves, and basically solving the same problems that were hanging over me.

    And me?

    I wasn¡¯t doing anything.

    No ¡°head issues¡± were found (guys, it¡¯s been cast iron since my previous life); a single bout of vomiting isn¡¯t a death sentence, so I skipped the end of the training and slowly made my way to school.

    I thought along the way.

    I got the impression that people in this world are sturdier and more resilient than they were in mine. But that¡¯s not surprising, considering Lemillion, who was able to fight villains even after losing his Quirk. Then again, he did train for half his life¡­ yeah, that¡¯s such a rarity¡­

    I was in a terrible mood, and on top of that, I was caught up in reflective thoughts. Some idea was spinning in my head, but I couldn¡¯t quite catch it by the tail¡­ ugh, tail¡­

    Hmm. Seriously, what exactly can the ¡°Tailed Hero¡± do with his appendage?

    As it turns out, quite a lot.

    First of all, he can hit with it. Well, my whole battered body already knows about the properties of those hits. Not that.

    Secondly, he can hang from it like some kind of iguana, and even swing from one wooden beam to another, like Spider-Man (who unfortunately doesn¡¯t exist here). Is this useful to me? Hardly. Not that.

    Thirdly, he can stand on it like he would on his legs or arms¡ªin short, use it as a support¡ªand believe me, it¡¯s very unpleasant in a fight when you can get hit with two low kicks at the same time. But again, not that.

    He also showed me his ¡°Whirlwind Rolls¡±¡­ a silly name, honestly, but that¡¯s a matter of mentality and perhaps a romantic nature. Anyway, he just spins in place, using his tail to defend against everything around him. Not that¡­

    And then there¡¯s the new trick I had the honor of witnessing this morning. Mashirao said he¡¯d been practicing these moves for a long time. Later, he showed me something like ¡°bunny hopping¡± (a term straight from my early youth¡ªfrom Counter-Strike 1.6), with which he could move at incredible speed, bouncing and instantly changing direction as needed by striking the ground with his tail.

    But he only decided to use it in a fight against me now, after knowing what to expect from me.

    Clever little bastard.

    I smirked. Well, well, he knows¡­ but I haven¡¯t used ranged attacks even once yet and have been trying to keep them a secret.

    Alright. Now this last one¡ªyeah, that¡¯s it. I need something like his ¡°bunny hopping¡± too.

    Hmm¡­

    After the first sparring session, my palms hurt like hell. Right? Right. And why? It¡¯s logical to assume it¡¯s from the impact on the floor using my Quirk and the Matrix reference.

    Mashirao can move at incredible speed and instantly change direction (though, to be fair, during such jumps, he¡¯s completely defenseless). Right? Right.

    I can create a shock on any surface, right? Seems like it. Hmm¡­

    So, theoretically¡­ that surface could be me, right?

    Alright. Let¡¯s assume that¡¯s the case.

    The potential applications are endless, but right now, I¡¯m specifically interested in finding a way to add speed to myself.

    What do I need for that? I need to enhance every step¡­ creating an explosion¡­ but instead of leaving craters behind me, somehow reverse the effect, pushing off not the ground, but my own foot.

    Sounds crazy.

    But you never know until you try.

    Okay. How to try this out? To use my Quirk to its full potential, I¡¯ll need armored boots and gloves with cushioning, no less¡­ something like what Deku will use in the future (and I really should start thinking about the design of my costume, by the way)

    So¡ªlet¡¯s start small. Let¡¯s say, ten percent of the full capacity¡­

    In the meantime, I made it to school. I walked into class¡ªand since it was recess, as I¡¯d missed the first lesson¡ªI calmly sat at my desk. My relationships with classmates still weren¡¯t working out, so there was no need to greet anyone.

    So then¡­

    I sat down¡ªand clapped my hands loudly, ignoring the surprised looks. Then I stared intently at my palm, trying to release an enhancing impulse right from it.

    It wasn¡¯t going very well.

    It tickled¡­

    Hmm¡­ did it just work? Or was that just a breeze?

    This was the captivating activity I was engaged in when a girl approached me¡­

    Yui? What does she want?

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    Sparring partner Mashirao Ojiro¡ªthe one and only Tailed Hero: Tail Man!

    No, this is not a joke.

    The aforementioned Yui Kodai in person. Here, she¡¯s about 15 years old.

 Episode 4. "No doubts". Part I.

    "Shoda-senpai, if you¡¯re not busy, may I ask you to spare a few minutes to talk with me?" the brunette who had approached my desk addressed me quietly, bowing just enough to appear polite, but not overly so, which would have made it awkwardly flattering and, therefore, strange.

    A well-executed approach, overall. Thought out.

    And yes¡ªshe asked quietly, but loud enough that most of the class fell silent and turned to look in our direction.

    I frowned back at her.

    Of course, I had nothing against this girl in general or her attention toward me in particular. However, firstly, I was focused on ¡°studying¡± my still-unnamed quirk. Secondly, I had sworn not to interfere with the canon until the key events of the series, and thirdly, I wasn¡¯t expecting anything good to come from this conversation.

    You can learn a lot from the use of particles and honorifics in Japanese even before the actual dialogue begins. For example, the fact that the future heroine used "senpai" instead of the standard "san" or "kun" (the latter, depending on the context, could be taken as familiarity or even a confession of love) clearly indicated that she considered me superior, excelling in some way.

    What could possibly have sparked her interest in my modest persona, mixed with respect as to an elder? We¡¯re obviously the same age. My academic achievements are certainly above average but aren''t anything extraordinary in a country full of diligent students. And she hasn¡¯t had much opportunity to assess them yet. Success in physical education? I don¡¯t stand out there either. Or is she flirting with me because of my striking appearance? Truth must be told (ha!)¡ªbut we''re still too young for that. I¡¯m surrounded by kids¡­

    It doesn¡¯t take a genius to figure out that she¡¯s interested in something hero-related. Most likely, she¡¯ll ask me for advice on applying or inquire about what I know about the entrance exam¡­

    Boring.

    So, I decided to be polite enough not to offend the girl, but rude enough to discourage her from wanting to talk to me for the next couple of years. We¡¯ll have time for that in the future.

    Sighing exaggeratedly, I nodded:

    "Of course, Kodai-san,"¡ªno, I¡¯m not playing along with your game¡ªand crossed my arms over my chest. Like, go ahead, girl.

    The girl in question, however, didn¡¯t bat an eye, as if she hadn¡¯t expected anything else, and calmly continued:

    "Since you, Shoda-senpai, have stated that you aim to enroll in U.A. Academy, this makes us rivals, as I also aspire to become a hero. However, we are currently members of a close-knit group, classmates, and therefore, I humbly ask you, as a kouhai asking her senpai, to share your wisdom, which gives you such confidence when discussing admission to the best hero academy in the world..."

    "Hm?"

    That¡¯s a bold statement. Raising an eyebrow, I began to ponder what she might know.

    Had she seen my training? But I always make sure no one is around. Did she inquire at the "Jade Lion"? No, old man Akira only works with his own and doesn¡¯t welcome outsiders. Could she have somehow gotten hold of a report on my quirk screening? But where could I have slipped up? And she didn¡¯t mention anything about personal strength... Not to mention that my confidence is largely based on an animated series I watched in another life, and in it, we both made it in...

    The silence dragged on, so I absently asked, trying to buy some time:

    "And why do you think I know some secret, Kodai-san? What if I¡¯m just... a cocky jerk, for example?" Someone in the class snickered.

    "You are very confident," came the quiet, succinct reply.

    The gears started grinding.

    Wait.

    And what? Is that all?

    Apparently, my bewildered irritation showed on my face, because the girl, slightly hesitating¡ªaha, you do have emotions!¡ªmuttered even more quietly:

    "Of course, that¡¯s expected from someone with an enhancement quirk, but... I was hoping you might have another reason for such confidence, advice for those like..."

    Oh, don¡¯t tell me that you¡­

    "Those like?"

    "Those with weak quirks..."

    Oof.

    When I realized she wasn¡¯t joking, angry fireworks started going off inside my head.

    I slammed my hands on the desk (this time without vandalism) and almost barked:

    "Let¡¯s step out into the hallway, shall we?"¡ªintending to clearly explain to this silly girl the difference between a weak quirk and a strong one.

    However, it didn¡¯t go as planned.

    "But the lesson starts in a minute..." she suddenly objected quietly. And here I thought¡ªshe¡¯s so unsure of herself and her quirk that she¡¯s seeking advice from, essentially, the first stranger she comes across.

    Calmly, gently, softly, politely¡ªand suddenly, a backbone. Interesting.

    "If you¡¯re even afraid of being late for class, how are you going to fight villains?" I chuckled mockingly.

    "But my grades will drop... and we have to take a written exam on all subjects..."

    My enthusiasm drained. What a bore.

    "Ugh... okay, we¡¯ll step out after class..."

    By the time the appointed hour came, I had completely cooled off and regretted the promise a hundred times over, constantly catching the curious glances of my classmates and Kodai¡¯s own sidelong looks.

    However, when the torturous academic hour finally passed, my conscience simply wouldn¡¯t allow me to ditch the girl, who was nervously wringing the hem of her skirt and waiting by my desk once again. And it wasn¡¯t that she seemed particularly shy or hesitant... but there was something off about her. Something... broken, perhaps?

    Without a word, I moved towards the hallway, gesturing for her to follow.

    Yui followed me, lagging a couple of steps behind.

    Our classmates followed her, lagging a couple of steps behind.

    "..."

    Sighing, I moved to the end of the hallway, where there was a relatively quiet dead-end. Sometimes upperclassmen would smoke there, or upper-class girls would make out, but in the morning, there was a chance of not running into anyone. And so it was.

    Stopping by the only window, I sternly glanced towards the corner leading to the classrooms and warned:

    "I didn¡¯t invite you!"

    And I lightly stomped my foot with a bit of enhancement, kicking up dust a couple of meters around.

    The curious noses sneezed and retreated.

    Still, I had no doubt they wouldn''t be deterred so easily. After all, these were kids¡ªcurious and persistent. Ah, what does it matter, anyway? It¡¯s not like I¡¯m about to reveal any secrets...

    Yui also sneezed quietly, cutely hiding her nose behind her sleeve.

    I turned to the girl and leaned against the windowsill, watching the dust particles dance in the sunlight. Warm...

    I had to shift my gaze to the girl, which made me frown again.

    Well, might as well talk¡ªno way out of it.

    "Listen, Yui. You¡¯re not a foolish girl... so why are you spouting such nonsense? And it¡¯s not just that you¡¯re saying it¡ªyou clearly believe this nonsense!"

    "I don¡¯t understand..."

    The girl clearly wasn¡¯t expecting this, so much so that she took a step back. The keychain on her bag¡ªa matryoshka, red and white¡ªglittered and swayed in the sunlight.

    "There are people who shout from every corner that there are no good or bad quirks. Just as there are no weak or strong quirks. But... saying that in a world where there¡¯s All Might, while someone else can only unravel ordinary clothes into threads, is foolish. The first is a great hero, the second is destined to become, at best, a fashion designer. Isn¡¯t that right?"

    "...yes..."

    "Now let¡¯s turn to the top pro-heroes in Japan. Who¡¯s fifth on the list right now, do you recall?"

    "Best Jeanist..."

    "Right. Do you know what he¡¯s capable of?" I closed my eyes, enjoying the rays warming my back.

    "Y-yes. I read that he can immobilize an entire crowd of people in an instant... and move quickly... and create traps... all based on controlling the threads that make up our clothes..."

    "Exactly. Tsunagu Hakamata is probably the most technically skilled of the current heroes. And he also owns his own modeling agency and a huge yacht," I stretched. "He studied at U.A., by the way. Do you understand why I¡¯m telling you this?"

    "That he didn¡¯t give up and enrolled despite his weak quirk?..."

    If I keep sighing like this, I¡¯m going to develop emphysema.

    "No. I¡¯m telling you this because, unlike most people who want to become heroes¡ªor become villains¡ªTsunagu, like most of those who became pro-heroes, possesses a brain. He uses it."

    "..."

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    "His quirk isn¡¯t combat-oriented. In a direct confrontation with any opponent, any idiotic villain, he¡¯d lose. But Best Jeanist was smart and hardworking enough to turn his quirk into the most combat-oriented one. He came up with many ways to use those threads to support and help other heroes. He learned to use it with different fabrics and prepare for both opponents and battles¡ªand that¡¯s why he always hides his face with a scarf, keeping an additional resource. He found out that denim is the strongest, burns the worst, and is easiest to use with his ¡®Threadmaster¡¯ quirk, hence his image. He studied the technical aspects, understood the different types and subtleties of sewing and cutting clothes to enhance and speed up his techniques, to make traps and ¡®cocoons¡¯ stronger¡ªand as a result, became a fashion expert."

    As I spoke, Yui¡¯s eyes widened more and more, until I started believing I¡¯d really landed in an anime.

    "Now do you understand? In reality, there are no strong and weak quirks. There are only strong and weak people. If someone truly is a warrior, someone who wants to be able to protect themselves and those around them, to fight, to stand up for their personal truth¡ªthen they¡¯ll find a way to use any advantage, any weapon, any resource in battle. And any quirk. Yes, those with simple quirks are indeed lucky... in some ways. But opponents and situations can vary greatly, and most often, the winner is not the one who¡¯s stronger in a head-to-head confrontation, but the one who¡¯s smarter and better prepared. Flexible thinking, well-thought-out tactics, various gadgets to enhance their quirk and use it in as many situations as possible¡ªthat¡¯s what turns those who want to be heroes into those who actually become heroes. Not luck at birth."

    Yui listened. I caught my breath. I don¡¯t remember the last time I talked this much...

    "As for you... your quirk is anything but weak! It¡¯s flexible and incredibly multifunctional; it has significant combat potential, both in offense and defense, it can perform a support role for other heroes, and it will work excellently with other quirks. Without knowing the details, I can think of ten ways off the top of my head to use it in a fight against villains or the aftermath of natural disasters, and all that¡¯s needed for its successful application is quality training. And brains. So I really don¡¯t understand your doubts¡ªyou¡¯re a smart girl. That¡¯s all I wanted to say."

    The girl remained silent, even forgetting to try and tear off a piece of her skirt, so I figured the audience was over and turned to leave. So to speak, the moor has done his job...

    Yeah, right, wishful thinking.

    "Shoda-senpai, please... forgive me for my foolishness and selfishness!" she called after me (though, mind you, we¡¯re still talking about Yui, so it was more of a soft-spoken remark). "I was only displaying unworthy jealousy of you, your confidence, and your quirk, but I could never have imagined the amount of work you¡¯ve put into understanding and preparing for the hero profession..."

    Oh, come on... does she reread Ivanhoe every day?

    I tried not to show my irritation:

    "Come on, it¡¯s all good. Since we¡¯ve talked, let¡¯s just head back to¡ª"

    "Please, tell me what I should do?"

    Huh?

    I turned back and stared at the girl, raising an eyebrow.

    The recommended girl, meanwhile, nervously fiddled with her smartphone, with its red and white case and some kind of keychain, and stammered as she tried to explain what exactly she was asking for:

    "...applying to U.A. Academy... though, of course, it¡¯s not right to say this, but it still seems to me that it¡¯s slightly unfair... I understand that it¡¯s for the best of the best, but the entrance exams also have a practical part... applicants need to demonstrate skilled use of their quirk, but... I want to enroll in the hero course so that they can teach me how to use it, right? But it turns out that the exam is for those who are already trained... but no one teaches me, because using quirks in everyday life is prohibited, because you can¡¯t, right? But then how can I learn to use it, and where can I find a teacher? ...My parents don¡¯t... and I have no one to turn to, and the pro heroes are too busy, I know, I wrote to them... those whose powers seemed similar to mine... Rock Lock, for example... but..."

    It seems I misjudged her. I thought she was a quiet kuudere, like a minimalistic Ayanami Rei, but as soon as I touched on the topic she was interested in, opened the "social shell" a bit, and...

    She reminded me somewhat of the protagonist from the anime based on this world, Midoriya.

    What happened in her life that made her so insecure? Almost downtrodden? Or is it just me, and this is normal for kids at that age?

    "Alright, so what do you want from me?"

    Yui Kodai raised her eyes to me, and I had to meet an unexpectedly intense gaze, filled with a cocktail of conflicting emotions. She took a deep breath, as if preparing to dive into icy water. It looked endearing:

    "Shoda-san... I mean, senpai... you¡¯ve already given me more than I hoped for! You explained that... it¡¯s not my quirk that¡¯s weak, but I myself am foolish... I¡¯m sorry that I dare ask for more... but... please, tell me how to become stronger! Please... help me become a hero!"

    You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.

    Sighing (definitely going to get pneumonia), I was about to hint that I don¡¯t get paid for tutoring...

    But suddenly, I saw something familiar in her eyes, in the way she looked at me.

    Something I see every day in the mirror... something that has driven me all these years.

    Something that kept me going at this grueling pace for twelve whole years¡ªuntil the serious results started showing.

    And it¡¯s not that Yui looked exceptionally cute, flustered but fired up and slightly flushed, nor that she was attractive and gazed at me with imploring eyes like that famous cat from a cartoon from my past life, and not even that, with all her meekness and insecurity, she looked very vulnerable and fragile. No, it wasn¡¯t that.

    It¡¯s just that, for the first time, I saw hope in her eyes. A very familiar hope.

    And suddenly, I thought that we weren¡¯t all that different, despite all the obvious differences.

    She has a dream too... the same dream.

    So yes¡ªI began to think.

    The thesis that quirks can¡¯t be strong or weak seems to have gotten through to her, so she¡¯s capable of learning... And no matter how it might look from the outside, she¡¯s capable of rational actions and puts achieving her goal above, for example, her pride or the usual social norms in Japan. Not everyone would ask for help in her place, especially from a peer... far from everyone.

    Alright, maybe I can give her a couple of pieces of advice. And really, what harm could come of it?

    She¡¯s going to become a hero and a U.A. student anyway, and it¡¯s unlikely this will mess up the canon...

    So why not help someone a little?

    After all, I¡¯m going to be a hero.

    The bell rang, but neither I nor Yui, who was nervously gripping her phone, moved.

    The bright keychain sparkled in the sunlight...

    "Alright," I said. "I¡¯ll help. Though I¡¯m puzzled by your faith in a person whose quirk you¡¯ve hardly seen, I¡¯m not against it. Though I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re expecting from me... But keep in mind: the most important thing here is for you to start thinking about¡ª"

    "Thank you, Shoda-senpai!" I was interrupted. "I won¡¯t let you down," she assured me with all seriousness.

    Good grief...

    "Alright... ahem. Let¡¯s go to class. Grades, all that..."

    "Oh..."

    ***

    As it happened, today was my turn to clean the classroom (in Japan, these duties are strictly observed, and I saw no reason to demand any special privileges for myself¡ªI''m not made of sugar, after all), and Yui volunteered to help me, so we ended up alone in the classroom.

    After finishing with the board and chairs, I sat on the edge of a desk.

    There was no rush¡ªthis evening Ojiro was supposed to leave for regional competitions with his brothers and sisters (one of whom, by the way, with fluffy ears on her head¡ªan actual catgirl!¡ªhad taken to giving me looks, which amused me more than anything else), school assignments I still breezed through like pistachios, and I¡¯d already had my full workout.

    Yui meekly sat on a chair across a desk from me, ready to listen.

    The thought crossed my mind that this was probably the first time in recent years that I was calmly sitting and talking to a member of the opposite sex who was "my" age. Well, well, I¡¯m starting to relax... what¡¯s next? Start playing video games again, watching anime? I can¡¯t even remember the last time...

    At least I didn¡¯t turn out to be a complete sarcastic cynic with such a life path.

    "Alright, Kodai-san. What exactly are you interested in?"

    "Shoda-senpai, I¡¯m grateful that you made me realize my quirk isn¡¯t as weak as I thought, and..."

    I frowned:

    "Kodai, let¡¯s skip all the... formalities and etiquette. I¡¯m a simple guy, from an ordinary family. Let¡¯s just go with ''you.''"

    "O-okay... Shoda."

    I nodded encouragingly.

    "I... um..." she took a deep breath and focused, "first of all, I would really appreciate some advice regarding my training strategy. Secondly, if it¡¯s not too presumptuous of me, I¡¯d like to know the general strategy of your... your training."

    A smirk crept onto my face. Seemed like a quiet, timid girl, but don¡¯t stick your finger in her mouth¡ªshe¡¯ll bite it off... the whole thing at once.

    Asking about the details of someone else¡¯s quirk is practically taboo. It¡¯s not done. And even in theory, few would answer¡ªeveryone has their quirks and secrets to protect. What if a villain learns about some of your weaknesses...

    Are there any secrets in how I¡¯m preparing for U.A.?

    Stupid question. Of course there are. I¡¯ve worked long and hard to appear like a typical close-combat fighter with an enhancement quirk, like Rabbit Hero or, for example, the well-known villain Muscular. I¡¯m not sure I can fool seasoned veterans like All Might (he knows more about quirks of this kind than anyone) or Eraser Head, but there¡¯s a good chance that villains won¡¯t find out my true capabilities until the last moment. I¡¯ll be playing the "Midoriya¡¯s cousin" role, in short.

    Therefore, all my training to reduce quirk activation time and attempts to integrate enhancement into spatial movement are, to put it mildly, inappropriate. God willing, I¡¯ll at least figure this out by the time of the U.A. entrance exam.

    So, what can I tell her? About the benefits of martial arts and daily exhausting physical training? Doubtful¡ªher quirk isn¡¯t geared towards close combat, and... ah-ha-ha, well yeah, who am I kidding, of course I¡¯m going to feed her this!

    No matter what a hero or villain¡¯s abilities are, physical fitness, tactical knowledge, and combat skills are nearly more important factors than the quirk itself.

    Especially since I already have an idea of how she could use her quirk in combination with combat training...

    But first, I still need to understand what I¡¯m dealing with¡ªand how bad it is.

    "...did anyone ever teach you anything? About how to handle your power, I mean. How to develop it, how to train it?"

    "N-no."

    Well, I¡¯ll be.

    Seeing my doubts, she quickly added:

    "But I¡¯m willing to reveal all the details of how my quirk works, if necessary."

    The girl is completely desperate. How is it even possible that with such a promising power, no one has taught her until now? Well, alright, it¡¯s not like she¡¯s Momo or that girl¡ªI can¡¯t remember her name¡ªwho could split into parts, levitate, and regenerate, but still...

    On the other hand, there are plenty of incredibly powerful quirks in the world. I think governments care more about ensuring quirk users don¡¯t become problems or villains, and whether they become a decent hero¡ªwith the overwhelming desire to become one¡ªisn¡¯t as important. There will always be a selection to choose from. And those who truly strive for greatness will find and learn on their own.

    Seek and you shall find, right?

    "Okay. My quirk... specialized training for it would be useless to you, but I¡¯m sure you understand the general principles of preparation. Do you train your breathing and cardiovascular system, develop endurance?"

    I was met with a blank stare. Adding some skepticism to my gaze, I rephrased:

    "Do you run? In the mornings, in the evenings, other than during P.E.?"

    Oh, bullseye. Yui, as if trying to embarrass me with her own embarrassed blush, stared at the desk and mumbled "no."

    Well, I guess asking about self-defense lessons is pointless.

    I considered how to approach her differently. Thought about it this way, and that way, and...

    "Then let¡¯s do this¡ªfirst, tell me how you see yourself using your quirk in the future, in a hero career. Based on that, I¡¯ll be able to understand how to complement your combat strategy, how to expand your arsenal of techniques, and what to focus your attention on. Deal?"

    "Okay..." the brunette, blinking, quickly gathered her thoughts and began to explain something that, most likely, she had never told anyone before. I couldn¡¯t say I felt flattered.

    Moreover, I was sure I already knew what she was going to say.

    "I think... I used to think that my quirk was only suitable for long-range support of allies from a distance and maybe defense. I planned to carry something like a bag or several pockets with hard small items like... nuts, bolts, coins, maybe some plates or bottle caps... They could be enlarged and thrown. And I could also pick up large objects in battle, shrink them, and throw them... or ask someone with great physical strength to throw them. Also..."

    She was twirling her phone with the keychain in her hands again¡ªit seemed to be her version of prayer beads. She fidgeted with it and calmed down.

    In the bright dangling thing, I was surprised to recognize a completely traditional matryoshka. Funny...

    As I thought, what Yui said was one hundred percent in line with what she demonstrated in my past-future. Past for me, future for her...

    A direct, like a ram, approach to interacting with objects. No creativity or ingenuity.

    Strange that in that world, other pro hero instructors didn¡¯t suggest more sophisticated tactics to her. Hmm...

    No, this won¡¯t do.

    Stopping her with a gesture, I gave her something like a directive:

    "Here¡¯s your homework assignment from me personally, Kodai. Prepare something like a report on your quirk, where you briefly outline all¡ªabsolutely all!¡ªpossible uses of your quirk that you can imagine. Of course, they should be useful, practically applicable, and theoretically possible, but otherwise, don¡¯t limit yourself. For example, in resources or complexity of impact. Deal?"

    The girl nodded with all seriousness.

    "When it¡¯s ready, we¡¯ll meet after class, here..." I then remembered the law prohibiting the use of quirks in public places, "Or maybe, no, better somewhere quiet, in some... park? For example, the municipal one at Revan Station, do you know it?"

    Another stern nod.

    I nodded in response and, slinging my light bag over my shoulder, headed for the exit.

    "Great. Well... see you tomorrow, Yui Kodai."

    "See you tomorrow, sempai... Shoda..."

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    Yui is feeling nervous.

 Episode 4. Part II.

    The very next day after school, we headed straight to the nearest subway station.

    Silently. Together. Side by side.

    I lazily thought about how the next day everyone around would be whispering and glancing over at us¡ªkids, after all!¡ªbut I didn¡¯t plan on doing anything about it. Firstly, it was beneficial for Yui; she should get used to attention if she wants to be a hero. Secondly... I didn¡¯t care.

    Yui''s enthusiasm and determination weren¡¯t exactly contagious, but they were genuine. In the notebook she had filled with her neat handwriting, there were some pretty sensible ideas. Nothing I hadn¡¯t thought of myself, but that wasn¡¯t the point¡ªthe goal was for her to try to come up with something on her own and break out of conventional thinking.

    In the park that I knew well¡ªthe same one where I broke a tree as a kid¡ªI headed straight for a favorite spot, a bench under the shade of an oak tree... or was it not an oak?.. I never really understood botany, or biology in general.

    I sat down on the bench, and Yui, after hesitating, perched on the edge.

    "So... from your ''essay,'' I can see that you really put effort into your work and tried hard, well done," the girl blushed a little again. It seems she¡¯s not used to receiving praise at all. Alright, one carrot handed out... "There are indeed some interesting and promising ideas in there. However, this is far from the limit. Moreover, it¡¯s not even the tip of the iceberg."

    Kodai listened calmly and attentively. Good.

    "But before I start bombarding you with ideas and suggestions, how about you demonstrate your quirk to me¡ªpersonally¡ªand then I¡¯ll ask a few clarifying questions. Deal?"

    Yui nodded, stood up... and looked around for a suitable target. She chose a trash can that looked like a tin barrel. She touched it...

    The trash can shrank to the size of a cup. It shrank in a strange way¡ªnot smoothly, but in jerks. As if... like in an anime where they saved on the frame rate.

    I smirked.

    Leaning down, I picked up the trash can with one hand. Light... as if I really was holding a cup. I gave it a little shake¡ªthere was a rustle and a clinking sound. Aha. Not empty.

    God, what a cool superpower...

    After I put the container back in place, Yui clasped her hands together as if she were about to wish me a good meal (Author''s note: "Itadakimasu!"), and said:

    "Release."

    The trash can returned to its usual size. I noticed that the object hadn¡¯t shifted in space at all, returning to its original size exactly where I had placed it. No bouncing, no falling. No transfer of kinetic energy, no changes except for weight, volume, and, presumably, density in proportion...

    Although no, that¡¯s still something that needs checking.

    After rummaging in my pocket, I pulled out a ten-yen bill. I carefully tore a small piece from the edge and handed it to Yui, who understood without words what needed to be done¡ªand increased it to the size of a medium dog.

    I tried to tear the paper, now several millimeters thick, without using my quirk, and predictably failed.

    Therefore, from practically any trash, plastic cap, or button, Yui could create a shield capable of withstanding, at a guess, a pistol shot. Not bad.

    "Alright, Yui Kodai, have a seat," I "gallantly" patted the bench. "My first question is this: how long can you keep an item shrunk?"

    "Not very long. I get tired... but I think I can do it for at least ten minutes."

    "I see. You¡¯re aware of the popular theory that quirks are like human muscles, and just as muscles can be developed through physical exercise, consistent quirk training with the right routine, repetitive exercises, and gradually increasing loads can develop them?"

    "Y-yes, I¡¯ve heard of that, but... I¡¯m not sure I see how that applies. To increasing the duration of the quirk¡¯s effect, I mean."

    "And if you assume?"

    "W-well... maybe I could carry a first aid kit..." she suggested hesitantly.

    I clapped my hands a couple of times in a light round of applause.

    "Exactly right! Or even more than one. But that¡¯s not all¡ªlook: not all heroes specialize in fighting villains; many of them, like Backdraft or Thirteen, focus on search and rescue during accidents and disasters. Do you have any size limitations on the items your quirk can affect?"

    The girl frowned in confusion. She hesitantly replied:

    "I¡¯m not sure about small items, but... a school desk is the biggest thing I¡¯ve managed so far..."

    "Got it. Suppose your quirk training could push that limit to... say, the size of a car. Sound good?"

    "Sounds good," Yui responded obediently.

    "As far as I understand, the internal structure of objects isn¡¯t damaged? Electronics don¡¯t malfunction after shrinking and unshrinking, right?"

    "Mechanisms don¡¯t work well in altered sizes and can break... but I haven¡¯t noticed any issues after the quirk is undone... so, yes."

    "In that case, theoretically, you could bring several ambulances or emergency response units to the scene of any incident! And why bring them? You could carry, say, a motorcycle¡ªor even a scooter in your pocket¡ªI¡¯m sure you could already find a vehicle that you could shrink! Take it out of your pocket, unshrink it, and dash off to perform your heroic deeds. Now imagine how many lives you could save if, for example, during a fire, you could transport five fire trucks in your pocket right to the building!"

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Wow, her eyes are so big right now, I¡¯m starting to believe I¡¯m in an anime.

    And I¡¯m just getting started.

    "What does your quirk work on, anyway? What kinds of objects and matter? Does density matter?"

    "On inanimate objects... not on people or living things¡ªno... m-matter? Well... I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve noticed any patterns... everything enlarges¡ªpaper, plastic, metal."

    "Organic matter? It doesn¡¯t work, you say?" I squinted. "Five minutes ago, you ''shrank'' the trash can. How about we check what was inside, huh?"

    I stood up and pushed the lid off the trash can, motioning for the confused girl to follow.

    A cautious examination¡ªat a distance!¡ªof the trash container showed that, yes, there was indeed organic matter inside. Apple cores, some leftover fast food.

    Moreover, they were INSIDE the shrunk object, reduced along with it proportionally. Well, the question of how homogeneous the structure of the objects being altered needs to be is off the table¡ªfor lack of necessity.

    Not at all.

    I picked up an oval leaf from the tree under which we were sitting and handed it to Yui as a study aid. Like, enlarge it just like the bill¡ªboth are cellulose, after all... and for her doubts, I had an ironclad response¡ªthere were a few leaves like this in the trash can too.

    Poor Kodai was almost about to start smoking from her ears.

    Deciding to slow things down a bit, I handed her back the notebook with the description of her quirk and suggested she jot down the most important points¡ªlike the potential benefits of training for longer duration of size-altering effects and the need to attempt shrinking larger and larger objects.

    Meanwhile, I was thinking. When she ¡°shrunk¡± the trash can, I noticed that she didn¡¯t need to touch the object with all five fingers, unlike, for example, the girl from the future 1-A class who controls gravity. So... does she just need to touch it with her palm?

    Or just touch it?

    Yui gently tugged on my sleeve:

    "But I need to constantly concentrate on the altered object. How will I keep them that way for hours?.."

    I smirked crookedly:

    "If there¡¯s one thing I can help with, it¡¯s training for concentration like no one else."

    But of course, I didn¡¯t explain anything. I asked:

    "Do you need to touch the object with your hand to shrink it?"

    "Yes, direct contact is required," the brunette responded, slightly surprised. Well, yeah, why would I ask such obvious questions, right?

    "With your hand?"

    "Uh..."

    "Can you shrink an object by touching it, for example, with your foot?"

    Yui Kodai¡ªblue screen.

    A dozen seconds later, she managed to pull herself together and weakly asked:

    "Why?"

    I replied (mentally cracking my knuckles):

    "As I understand it, you don¡¯t see how your abilities could be useful in close combat. I can understand why. Besides, all heroes have their own specialization; there¡¯s nothing wrong with ranged attacks and support roles..." I yawned and leaned back on the bench. "However, the reality is that any hero will eventually engage in close combat. In reality, you know, there are dark alleys, winding corridors, and smoky city streets. And so, regardless of your quirk''s properties or personal preferences, you need to be prepared for that. Well, that¡¯s how I see it."

    Yui nodded slowly. I could almost feel new neural connections forming in her brain.

    "But how could my quirk help in close combat?"

    "It could help remarkably well!" I grinned. "In close combat, with your quirk, you could disable the opponent¡¯s equipment! Shrink or enlarge elements of their armor or costume, causing them to lose balance or even become immobilized!¡±

    ¡°But how¡­¡± - the ordinary superhero schoolgirl, who I was rapidly molding into a Terminator, practically moaned.

    ¡°The simplest example is when you¡¯re sparring in the dojo. I think you know that the floor there is often covered with mats. The moment your opponent makes a move, you touch the mat under them with your foot ¨C and voil¨¤! The opponent loses balance, opens up, and gets hit in the head by a future hero. Victory for Yui, hooray!¡± I slightly smirked, watching a faint blush appear on her cheeks. However, she didn¡¯t look away, listening attentively. ¡°Or, say, a villain sneaks into our school. The floors there are wooden. With your power, you could easily shrink a few planks in the floor, making them trip and lose control of the situation.¡±

    ¡°I think I understand¡­ but I could never have imagined such an application for a quirk before¡­¡±

    ¡°But we can go even further. The limitations on the shape and boundaries of objects are quite arbitrary. I can''t guarantee that this will work, but try delving into the study of physics - if you dig deep enough, you¡¯ll realize that discrete units and whole objects don¡¯t really exist in the world. We¡¯re all made of cells, cells of molecules and atoms, all atoms consist of electrons and protons, all protons consist of quarks¡­ Boundaries are not just blurred, they don¡¯t exist. Do you understand? They are all up here.¡±

    I tapped my index finger on my head and smiled as I looked into the wide-eyed girl¡¯s eyes. I wanted to add that ¡°there is no spoon,¡± but I was afraid she wouldn¡¯t get it.

    ¡°But¡­ for All Might''s sake, all of this needs to be trained!¡± the girl suddenly exclaimed.

    I frowned.

    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s the whole point. By the way, speaking of training: I saw how you cancel your quirk - by folding your hands in prayer and announcing the action, saying something like ¡®boom.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah?¡±

    ¡°Is that necessary?¡±

    ¡°¡­ well¡­ otherwise, it doesn¡¯t work¡­¡± the girl shrugged uncertainly.

    I continued to stare skeptically.

    ¡°¡­ and other¡­ heroes do it too¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­ and it looks cool¡­¡± Yui murmured quietly, staring at her knees, blushing deeply from embarrassment this time.

    I stopped teasing the cute girl and laughed.

    ¡°In any case, it¡¯s your choice, and your allies should be kept informed. However, by doing this, you lose the element of surprise. In any case, we¡¯ll be taught teamwork at U.A., so maybe they¡¯ll suggest a less obvious way.¡±

    ¡°Well, I think I can skip saying ¡®cancel,¡¯¡± she suggested, ¡°but if I don¡¯t fold my hands, it doesn¡¯t work¡­¡±

    ¡°Have you ever considered that this might just be a psychological limitation?¡±

    The girl stared at me again, wide-eyed. I smirked.

    ¡°Try doing the same thing on your own time but differently - with a different hand position, a different word, not folding your hands completely, not folding them at all¡­ I highly doubt that this is a necessary condition for your quirk to work - although, of course, in this crazy world, who knows¡­¡±

    We sat in silence for a while. The leaves rustled quietly.

    ¡°Shoda, do you¡­ do you think I¡¯ll be able to get in?¡± Yui asked timidly, pulling her knees to her chin and hugging them.

    ¡°One hundred percent,¡± I replied. ¡°Don¡¯t doubt it.¡±

    What more was there to say? I¡¯d seen it with my own eyes.

    Kodai didn¡¯t say anything in response, but her shy smile was enough for me. It was the first one I had seen from her, by the way.

    I slid off the bench and stretched.

    Sunbeams ricocheted off the city skyscrapers, pierced through the dense foliage, and dazzled me as they tried to get into my eyes, playing with each other. I yawned again (Author''s note: and you probably wanted to yawn too, admit it!).

    ¡°I think it¡¯s time to head home. Gather your thoughts, think about training, make a plan. I¡¯ll help if needed. And I think you¡¯ve got enough information about the possibilities of developing your quirk¡­ for now.¡±

    ¡°Is that not everything?¡± the girl asked, wide-eyed, jumping up from the bench.

    ¡°Nope. We haven¡¯t even covered half.¡±

    ¡°O_O.¡±

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    Yui has already settled in, no longer nervous, and is getting ready t?o? ?w?r?a?p? ?N?i?r?e?n? ?a?r?o?u?n?d? ?h?e?r? ?f?i?n?g?e?r?to be a good comrade.

    Canonical superhero outfit for Yui.

    Looks exactly like those guys who service race cars at pit stops.

    Not a fan.

    Will change.

    Yui Kodai uses her quirk on a metal barrel. Note that she DOESN''T need to touch the object with all five fingers (the fandom wiki is wrong).

    And forget about the pink glow from someone else''s quirk, she has no special effects.

    Nuff said.

 Episode 5. "Such different eyes". Part I.

    The following weeks unexpectedly showed that, apparently, I enjoy teaching others.

    At least, when it comes to cute superhero girls.

    Together with Yui, we dissected the details of using her quirk, conducted experiments with it, came up with new ways to apply it, reluctantly discarded impossible options, analyzed the actions of well-known heroes with similar powers, and based on that, devised suitable tactics for her¡­

    The most interesting moment was when I asked her to enlarge a can of peach tea. Yui did it without any problems.

    Then, slightly straining and gripping it (the can, of course, what did you think?), I turned the container upside down.

    And the tea was unfinished.

    Liquid poured out of the can onto the ground.

    A lot of it.

    More than there was in the can before enlarging it.

    Then I just sat down on the bench - we were still in the same park - and for a couple of minutes, I stared blankly into space, ignoring Kodai''s questions. Yui even started to worry.

    In short, you get it, right? She can increase the size of any liquids! That is, it sounds inaccurate; it would be more correct to say in volume, but that¡¯s exactly the point - this isn¡¯t some damn hydrokinesis, "water magic" (which can at least be explained, perhaps by portals to other dimensions, just as Hulk¡¯s powers were explained in the comics), no, this is literally increasing the SIZE of the liquid! Creating more of something out of something. And tea is not even an ¡°object¡±!

    How the hell does this even work? What happens to this liquid afterwards?! What if someone drinks it? What if the molecules of this liquid are absorbed in the intestines and enter the bloodstream?! And this puddle, by the way, is evaporating under the sun right now, and we¡¯re breathing these¡­

    At that point, I snapped out of it, pulled Yui aside, and made her cancel everything.

    The puddle shrank¡­

    Well, at least we didn¡¯t cause any irreparable harm. ¡°There¡¯s no danger that such water could be swallowed. Such large molecules simply won¡¯t pass through the channels in the cells¡­¡± I thought then.

    And I was completely wrong.

    Later, in a laboratory of a quirk research center where we were allowed in, I examined a sample of "Yui-fied" water under an electron microscope and was, damn it, forced to accept the fact that... no, she does NOT increase the size of atoms and molecules.

    Even worse!

    No, she fills the space between atoms with some kind of incomprehensible, inert bullshit, retaining almost all physical and chemical properties, as if there had been no impact at all. But at the same time, some of these properties, such as density, weight, melting point, and corrosion resistance, increase proportionally with size.

    Strange, mind-bending, but a fact.

    Okay, it¡¯s still not the strangest quirk in this world.

    Specifically, at that time with the puddle, there was no danger, so my thoughts gradually shifted to the practical application of her quirk.

    If Yui can maintain the size change of objects for a long time and without significant energy expenditure, she wouldn¡¯t need any ¡°fire trucks¡± in her pocket - just carry, say, a dozen small water spheres with her.

    If there¡¯s a fire, Yui comes. Yui enlarges the water sphere, it bursts over the fire, the fire is extinguished, Yui cancels the enlargement, and, I assume, all the water, dirt, and steam just¡­ disappear.

    Mind-blowing.

    We also conducted quirk endurance training right during class. Specifically, the practice of consciously, or even more accurately, habitually subconsciously maintaining an activated quirk. For as long as she has the strength and concentration.

    For example¡­ for part of the school hour (ideally the whole hour, but she was far from that level), let¡¯s say, in Yui¡¯s personal locker, there was an ordinary ballpoint pen leaning against the wall.

    Only it was the size of a full-blown missile.

    Such endurance training should eventually allow her to do what I described to her in our first ¡°lesson¡± - carrying fire engines and motorcycles in her pocket. The girl has every chance to become one of the most versatile heroes¡­

    Yui was getting tired but making progress.

    As for me, sitting at the opposite end of the class, I gave her a thumbs-up for encouragement, and I secretly tried to train my own ¡°enhancement¡± as well. However, this was getting difficult, as a fully enhanced strike at that point had far exceeded the limits of what was possible even for the strongest strike of an ordinary, albeit trained, person. In a school classroom, it couldn¡¯t be used unnoticed.

    I had to focus on precision - the most accurate hits, the most localized, the weakest¡­

    In this manner, almost a month passed.

    Perhaps the reason was that I hadn¡¯t really interacted with anyone for a long time¡­

    Yes, of course, there was the tailed one, but Mashirao didn¡¯t count. Despite the shared sparring, attention to martial arts, and friendly rivalry, we had very different interests. To be more precise, I wasn¡¯t even sure he had any interests, the geek. And we only met in the dojo, and he wasn¡¯t keen on going out anywhere else.

    Or maybe it was because I had been gathering information on powerful quirk users, analyzing them, and accumulating various techniques and strategies for years¡­ and I could finally share these developments with someone¡­

    In any case, I got carried away.

    It got to the point where I almost started neglecting my own quirk training, not making much progress in integrating ¡°explosive¡± enhancements into my jumps - which, by the way, caused me to lose yet another fight against the tailed and jumpy mutt¡­ I mean, my sparring partner Mashirao¡­ because I simply couldn¡¯t manage to break the distance.

    Frustrating.

    I realized that something needed to change.

    Despite what I had previously told Yui about self-defense and close combat, I honestly didn¡¯t think it was necessary for her to seriously dedicate herself to studying martial arts as much as I had to.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    But it¡¯s not because her quirk is better suited for a ¡°support¡± specialization and she has no chance in close combat. No, no, no, none of that defeatist nonsense!

    The reason is quite the opposite - in most cases (if we¡¯re not talking about the strongest heroes or villains beyond categories), with decent general preparation, one touch from Kodai would be enough to defeat - or at least delay the enemy and buy herself a few seconds. No matter how strong the enemy is. Yui is literally capable of enlarging - or shrinking - anything! A belt, jeans, shoes, a phone, a piece of gum, a wristwatch, a backpack, a hoodie, glasses¡­ a supervillain¡¯s costume.

    Yui might just become the most terrifying prankster in history - any criminal or hero would have to fear that in a confrontation with her, they could instantly turn into a little boy wearing their dad¡¯s pajamas! Metaphorically speaking, of course - her quirk doesn¡¯t work on living organisms.

    And continuing to analyze her quirk¡­ just imagine how some Bakugo in my future would easily defeat her¡­ if one of his massive bracers - if I remember correctly, in the series, they looked like fragmentation grenades - suddenly became the size of a table, while the other shrank to the size of a matchbox, tearing his arm apart¡­

    Though, it¡¯s too early for Yui to think about such bloody techniques.

    Returning to her future combat tactics: the actual ability to fight is something she needs only to some extent. There¡¯s no need to teach her how to throw punches, or to do throws, or to break out of holds, or to block properly (because she¡¯ll likely use her quirk for these tasks as well).

    Though, of course, it wouldn¡¯t hurt.

    But they¡¯ll drill her on that in practice at U.A.

    What she really needs, though, is, first, the ability to maintain distance, second, the ability to see when an opponent is open, and third, the ability to control her surroundings to spot all suitable targets for using her quirk.

    And, of course, good physical condition, with the right stance and the ability to move properly. But that¡¯s a given.

    I already got her into running - though, of course, she did this not in the dark of night, but after school and our ¡°lessons.¡± She might not have minded running laps around the city with me, but I still got up several hours earlier and after my run, headed to training to beat the face of one fluffy jumper¡­ I mean, my partner Mashirao. Besides, we have different paces.

    And, by the way, I came up with a weapon for her.

    Two, actually. One for close combat and one for long-range¡­

    In light of all this, after thinking it over, I decided to stop wasting time on her¡­ just kidding! Or maybe not?.. In general, I decided to send her to the same dojo that I had attended before the ¡°Jade Lion.¡± But not to Toga-sensei, and not to the dojo for judokas or Muay Thai practitioners, but one specializing specifically in her future weapon. Basic training and a sense of the opponent can be provided at almost any place, but this particular type of cold weaponry, I believe, teaches control of space like no other.

    At the same time, she¡¯ll get used to fights and opponents, won¡¯t be such a shy girl now. And she won¡¯t be an insecure hero - in the future.

    So, after arranging with the master of the karate dojo, entirely dedicated to a certain type of ¡°kobudo¡± - that is, the art of handling various cold weapons, supposedly dating back to Shaolin monks - I took Yui after classes and dragged her there.

    Our conversation went something like this:

    ¡°Yui, do you want to become a hero?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡±

    ¡°Do you want to be cool and dangerous?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    ¡°Follow me.¡±

    ¡°Where to?¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t say.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Niren¡­¡±

    End of conversation.

    I forgot to mention - we now call each other by our first names, without any honorifics. In Japan, this is considered a sign of close relationships¡­ however, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s to the same extent as in the Land of the Rising Sun in my world. I believe that in the anime, even the barely acquainted U.A. students constantly called each other by their first names¡­ when they were yelling these names across the area, eager to beat up their fellow fighters and find out who¡¯s the best.

    Honestly, I didn¡¯t even notice this transition. It was fun to talk to Yui.

    Although, maybe I¡¯m just missing out on being a top-tier teacher.

    And yeah: after that conversation in the park, Yui seemed to get fixated - she started hanging on my every word and almost unquestioningly obeying. Of course, I noticed this, and it did concern me¡­ I¡¯m not a moral degenerate. However, I didn¡¯t see a big problem: everything I was giving her was beneficial to her, and she knew it, especially since in most ¡°tasks,¡± I tried to let her figure out the right answer herself, even if a bit later.

    And she¡¯ll have time to learn to be independent and strong.

    Of course, as I mentioned to Yui earlier, the most important thing in the hero profession is that she learns to think for herself. So, without naming the final destination, I laid out the main arguments in favor of training in general and, specifically, these trainings and with this weapon while we were on our way to the dojo. So she could try to reach the same conclusion on her own and guess what type of weapon I had chosen.

    In short, I set up a surprise for the girl.

    Yui¡¯s quirk can allow her, as I¡¯ve said, to put the opponent in a very disadvantageous position, depriving them of balance and even injuring them. But that¡¯s if she attacks the opponent with her quirk. For that, she needs to be able to close the distance at the critical moment. That is, to have control over the distance.

    But what if she uses her quirk on what she¡¯s holding in her own hands?

    Imagine what a complex and unpredictable opponent could emerge from a person who wields some sort of long, thin weapon¡­ expertly handles this weapon¡­

    And at any moment, almost instantly, can change the length and weight of this item?

    I¡¯ll answer myself: a very unpleasant opponent.

    When we reached the small building where a branch of ¡°kobudo¡± was located on the second floor in our city, I went ahead of Yui and, proud of myself, ceremoniously gestured to the sign, showing the surprised girl the weapon she would be studying for the next three years:

    A staff.

    To be more precise, a wooden fighting staff. Or ¡°bo.¡± Or ¡°kon.¡± Or¡­ ¡°gun¡±? So, are these all names for the same thing, or is there some difference?.. I was a complete amateur when it came to fighting with weapons; I was always more interested in hand-to-hand combat, and even Mashirao wasn¡¯t very knowledgeable in these details.

    Well, I hope Yui will tell us later.

    In any case, after a few experiments with Kodai¡¯s quirk, I became convinced that the shape and proportions of any objects she enlarges remain constant. The only thing subject to change is the density and weight of the object.

    Therefore, if she uses such a staff in battle¡­ or just carries ordinary pencils with her¡­ she¡¯ll be able to knock out opponents, literally, from several meters away. Almost absolute control of the space around her, with a maximum attack distance of several meters! And the farther the opponent is, the stronger and, literally, the heavier the blow will be!

    Can you imagine? Some thief runs out of a store - and then Yui, who might be standing on the opposite side of the street, takes him down with a mighty swing of her¡­ stick.

    And you can throw such a staff¡­

    Perhaps it would have been better to choose a spear or something similar, but¡­ we¡¯re heroes, right? So let¡¯s leave potentially lethal weapons out of the picture.

    In all other respects, I think this will become her most versatile weapon - which, if necessary, can easily be replaced by almost any available item. Which means she¡¯ll always be armed and ready, with less chance of being caught off guard¡­

    Of course, learning such an unconventional and even unparalleled fighting style will be difficult for her. And I think there¡¯s a good chance that at first, she¡¯ll probably crush herself with such a large pencil. But¡­ I believe in her. She¡¯s smart, unexpectedly persistent, and quickly grasps everything I give her. She¡¯ll manage.

    So let her be.

    Honestly, if Yui wasn¡¯t twelve years old and if she weren¡¯t so¡­ proper, righteous, and quiet, I would definitely have joked about ¡°pole dancing.¡± Alas, I have to endure.

    For now. I hope in the future I¡¯ll be able to make up for all these years of forced inability to tease those around me.

    So, we entered this wonderful establishment where a quiet girl would be taught how to beat people with a stick. The local master, a skinny bearded old man almost the height of a child (whom I would never want to face in the ring), assessed Yui¡¯s potential and agreed to teach her, and then¡­

    A Problem arose.

    Yui Kodai didn¡¯t have the money for the training. And it wasn¡¯t because her family was poor or she was an orphan¡­ but because her parents wouldn¡¯t pay for something like this.

    ¡°Wait, hold on,¡± I closed my eyes and pressed on my temples, trying to reset. ¡°Let¡¯s go over this in more detail, from the beginning.¡±

    Yui hesitated and fidgeted on the bench by the outer wall of the dojo where we had sat down.

    I frowned:

    ¡°Yui. I don¡¯t want to pry into your family matters; I understand that it¡¯s personal, but¡­ I, like, took on your professional training at your own request. I¡¯m investing time in your education, I expect diligence from you, and I certainly expect that your parents¡­ or guardians¡­ understand that their child¡¯s path to becoming a hero requires far greater investments from their side. First and foremost - financial ones.¡±

    She took a shaky breath:

    ¡°I-I understand, Niren, I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll explain¡­¡±

    I patted her shoulder reassuringly:

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to rush. We can find a quieter place if needed, or¡­¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s okay.¡±

    I nodded and prepared to listen.

 Episode 5. Part II.

    So¡­

    To summarize, Yui¡¯s father is a jerk.

    If I don¡¯t summarize, it seems the issue was this: Sato Kodai, an ordinary office worker, was one of those who drew the unlucky ticket in the name of Izuku Midoriya and fell into the twenty (at least, according to the figures known to the general public) percent of the population that is quirkless.

    To be honest, this statistic raised a lot of doubts for me when taken out of context. For example, in our class with Yui, there wasn¡¯t a single student without a quirk, and in my previous elementary school, there were only one or two. And even on the streets, I rarely saw people of this kind. It¡¯s quite likely that this misinformation was just another way for the powers that be to prevent a war - this time a liberation one under the banner of some ¡°saviors of the purity of the planet¡¯s gene pool.¡±

    But that¡¯s beside the point.

    Sato grew up as a disappointed, pessimistic, and extremely depressed apathetic person, and that would have been fine if his apathy hadn¡¯t extended to his daughter. She wasn¡¯t a wanted child - more like a consequence of circumstances¡­ and her parents shrugged and did what was required of them. And not an ounce more.

    Her father wasn¡¯t interested in her achievements, didn¡¯t expect anything from her, and dreams like ¡°I¡¯ll become an astronaut¡± or ¡°I¡¯ll be a professional hero!¡± were extinguished with phrases like ¡°Give it up, you don¡¯t stand a chance.¡± Because of this, Yui apparently grew up insecure, quiet, and slightly antisocial - simply because no one cared enough about her.

    She was an only child, and her mother was from the typical, though quite rare nowadays, breed of women who meekly obeyed their husbands, never contradicted them, didn¡¯t work, but took care of the home and family. She wasn¡¯t happy in marriage, according to Yui, and almost never smiled, rarely sought out conversation, didn¡¯t invite guests, and preferred solitude.

    And the girl observed and adopted this role model, sitting quietly in a corner, looking at books¡­

    Her dream - my dream! - was supported by no one.

    I felt myself starting to boil over.

    Apparently, Yui noticed something because she began to somewhat clumsily ask me not to go to her parents and not to try to demand anything.

    But I interrupted her:

    ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere today. It¡¯s foolish to do such things in a hot-headed state.¡±

    Kodai blinked in surprise.

    Yes, I was angry. But I wasn¡¯t, like, five or fifteen (mentally speaking), to recklessly rush into imposing good and justice, which would probably only reinforce her father¡¯s point of view.

    No, this approach needs preparation. Both emotionally and even physically.

    From whichever side you look at it, Yui didn¡¯t have a very happy family. Sure, no one abused her, there was no violence in the family, nothing like that. But obviously, her idea of becoming a hero, let alone enrolling in the best hero academy in the world! - received no support from her relatives. Her mother didn¡¯t care, she didn¡¯t have a quirk either, so hoping for understanding or advice was foolish. Her father simply didn¡¯t believe, didn¡¯t want to believe, or even just didn¡¯t want something that didn¡¯t work out for him to work out for his daughter.

    Or maybe he¡¯s just an idiot and doesn¡¯t understand what she¡¯s capable of.

    Sigh¡­

    If I were older, I¡¯d pay for all of Yui¡¯s lessons myself. But I couldn¡¯t.

    And it¡¯s not right when parents neglect their children¡¯s future. Yes, she¡¯s more or less healthy, she attends a decent school and does well (which, by the way, is entirely her own achievement, for which Yui deserves respect. I wouldn¡¯t have managed that), but¡­ children¡¯s success can and SHOULD be the victory of their parents as well! The fact that Yui is who she is seems to be the merit of the writers whose books she read, not her father.

    Maybe it¡¯s worth hinting at this to him. Before it¡¯s too late.

    By Friday, I had prepared a summarized report on her quirk, containing most of our ideas, tactics, and empirically confirmed methods for using her powers. The folder turned out to be quite substantial, although, of course, most of the material had been accumulated over the past two months.

    In the evening, after her introductory lesson at the new dojo (I dragged Kodai there despite her objections, using my own hard-earned money - I had just enough savings from tea and my own training), we approached the door of her apartment. Yui was less nervous than I expected¡­ in fact, she seemed almost indifferent.

    Not good.

    Stepping inside, I found myself in a dimly lit apartment, which left a somewhat¡­ empty impression, despite the fact that they had lived there since her birth.

    We entered the living room, where, in the blue light of the screen, a figure could be seen sunk deep into a large chair. Yui quietly introduced me. Sato didn¡¯t get up.

    ¡°Right¡­¡±

    Well, at least a tin beer can didn¡¯t roll out from under my feet, so there¡¯s that. I was spared that clich¨¦¡­

    Those cans were neatly lined up on the table.

    As we got closer, it became clear that the man sitting in the chair was tall and thin, wearing glasses. Fairly young. A formal suit. The tie, however, was loose and hanging untidily to the side.

    Sato Kodai stopped staring blankly at the TV screen and turned his gaze to us.

    His eyes were like those of a dead fish.

    ¡°Hi, daughter. How was school?¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± came the emotionless reply.

    ¡°And why did you bring someone here?¡±

    ¡°R-remember, I explained yesterday¡­ my classmate wants to talk about my¡­ q-quirk.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡±

    The most depressing thing here was that my prot¨¦g¨¦ didn¡¯t show any surprise or irritation. Rather, just resignation.

    Emotions started to overwhelm me again. I wanted to grab the man by the collar and shout at him.

    Yui¡¯s mother, Yoko, entered, bringing the traditional tray with tea and something else. Long, neatly combed hair fell over her face, preventing me from seeing her expression, so we only exchanged the most basic polite phrases.

    Sato cleared his throat and adjusted himself slightly in the chair. But he still didn¡¯t stand up, didn¡¯t fix his tie, and didn¡¯t extend his hand. He didn¡¯t even turn off the TV. Although, to be fair, the sound had been muted even before we entered.

    Creepy guy.

    ¡°So, classmate-kun¡­¡±

    ¡°Niren.¡±

    ¡°¡­ Niren-kun¡­ what brings you to our humble abode?¡± Sato asked, with a barely audible hint of irony.

    It seems I know where Yui got that emotionless tone of voice from.

    I bit my tongue to avoid responding with ¡°Yui!¡± and calmly said:

    ¡°If this is a good time, Kodai-san, I would very much like to discuss your daughter¡¯s future profession and the ways we might develop her abilities and improve her training.¡±

    It seemed - judging by the slight twitch of his eyebrow - he was surprised:

    ¡°Future profession?¡±

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Yes. Her career as a professional hero.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ that.¡±

    Since he didn¡¯t say anything else, I continued:

    ¡°If you¡¯ll allow me,¡± I said, showing the folder with copies of our findings, ¡°I¡¯ll summarize everything we¡¯ve come up with and, if you support Yui, what we will achieve in the future. Her quirk is one of the most versatile and flexible I¡¯ve ever encountered, and she could become an amazing hero. If you help her attend training at¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Niren¡­ kun,¡± the man interrupted me, slightly wincing, raising his hand. Then he removed his fogged-up glasses and wiped them with his shirt, accidentally knocking over one of the beer cans. He put them back on, and¡­

    Meeting his gaze, I immediately understood that nothing was going to come of this. This wasn¡¯t just the gaze of someone who had lost hope, dulled by an endless gray routine. No, it was more like the gaze of someone who, in defending himself from the harshness of the world, had been thoroughly soaked in coldness, bitterness, and pessimism.

    In some ways, it was probably a good thing that he didn¡¯t care about Yui.

    ¡°You see, Niren¡­ kun, I don¡¯t believe that my daughter has the potential, that she has a chance to achieve anything. It¡¯s not that I think Yui is stupid or untalented, but this world doesn¡¯t belong to people like us. It doesn¡¯t matter whether a person has a weak and non-threatening quirk or not¡­ what matters is that there¡¯s a vast gulf between us and those who are lucky. Those who, without lifting a finger, are capable of almost godlike feats by nature. Strive, All Might, Thirteenth¡­ Stars and Stripes or Shining Knight, if you prefer foreign icons¡­ the world belongs to them. The whole world will watch those whose strength is flashy, effective, even if its owner uses it stupidly like a sheep, but it¡¯s enough on its own to win.¡±

    A drop of sweat rolled down his temple.

    ¡°For her own good, Yui is better off not even trying to enter this¡­ swamp, teeming with predators. No cunning tricks or strategies will help her. No one needs small people like us¡­ Niren-kun.¡±

    ¡°Listen¡­ for example, Best Jeanist or Hawks, they¡­¡±

    ¡°Do you have a quirk, Niren?¡± Sato interrupted me, sitting up straighter in his chair and adopting a rather rude tone.

    ¡°I do,¡± I replied darkly, realizing what was coming next. I was walking into a trap.

    ¡°And what is it, care to share?¡±

    ¡°Enhancement¡­ to some extent.¡±

    Sato smirked crookedly, having gained some weapon, however slight, against my arguments. He finally got up from the chair and stretched to his full, considerable height, I must say.

    ¡°You see, Yui,¡± Kodai Senior addressed his daughter for the first time during the meeting, ¡°Niren¡­ kun here has a future as a real hero. He¡¯s naturally lucky enough to someday hope to climb that toy golden ladder where all the other lucky ones with power quirks stand, right? Those Rabbits, All Mights, Endeavors¡­¡±

    I barely restrained myself from pointing out that Enji Todoroki doesn¡¯t have a quirk that enhances physical strength. Though, honestly, I can¡¯t imagine how he managed to bring his body to such physical conditioning without a quirk¡­

    As Yui¡¯s father continued to ramble somewhat incoherently about the unfairness of the world, I had time to think: how can I make this jerk understand that just because something didn¡¯t work out for him doesn¡¯t mean his daughter is a failure too? And at the same time, keep things civil, avoid provoking his anger, and not put Yui between a rock (me) and a hard place?

    And I realized¡­

    I couldn¡¯t.

    This isn¡¯t some fairy tale where, if you talk to someone sincerely enough, they immediately see the error of their ways and change. The older people get, the more limited their life and outlook become, the less willing they are to change their point of view, which they¡¯ve held for years. And I¡¯m not a psychologist to try to get through to a not-so-reasonable person.

    Yes, maybe someone else in my place would have escalated the conflict and used dirty tactics like threats and blackmail, someone else would have resorted to blunt force, and maybe someone else, some genius, another ¡°isekai-transmigrant¡±, or just a favorite of fate, would have found the right words to make this¡­ half-dead man¡¯s heart beat again.

    But I¡¯ve never been good with words, and honestly, I was more used to communicating with my fists. And I believed in them more.

    My hand clenched, unpleasantly creaking as it squeezed the folder with the report. But¡­

    Sighing, I relaxed my fingers and carefully placed our presentation on the coffee table.

    I quietly addressed the man, who was looking at me with an unreadable expression:

    ¡°Thank you for your time, Kodai-san. I sincerely hope you¡¯ll find a moment to look through this folder, to appreciate the work your daughter has done, and the incredible potential that awaits her in the future. In any case, I believe she¡¯ll succeed, no matter how difficult it is. Sorry for the disturbance. Goodbye.¡±

    The man¡¯s gaze flickered slightly toward the folder, but he said nothing.

    Nodding in response, I stepped out into the darkness of the hallway.

    I suppose, in this situation, I should be proud that it didn¡¯t end with broken faces, broken noses, and broken chairs. As well as broken relationships.

    I¡¯m a damn hero, right?

    But I wasn¡¯t proud.

    ***

    After saying goodbye to Yui - quiet, calm, and even looking around with a sort of¡­ condescension, perhaps¡­ - I put on my shoes and left the apartment.

    But I hadn¡¯t taken more than a couple of steps when the door behind me opened again, and Yui¡¯s mother, Yoko, peeked out into the hallway.

    I turned around. I wasn¡¯t sure what to expect at all - maybe she¡¯d pull out a pitchfork and torch from somewhere and chase me away from their door?

    No, it didn¡¯t come to that.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Yoko said.

    Pause.

    ¡°Niren...¡±

    She just kept silent, leaving me no choice but to say the last name:

    ¡°Shoda.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Shoda-san,¡± she said, bowing, which somewhat surprised me. And then she added, ¡°Please forgive us, and understand. It¡¯s not easy for him either¡­¡±

    I was stunned. Somehow, suppressing the bubbling anger somewhere in my throat, I asked:

    ¡°Excuse me, what?¡±

    My mind was spinning. You, the wife of that jerk, seriously want to convince me that such rudeness and neglect could have some kind of¡­

    ¡°He¡¯s sick,¡± came the quiet response.

    Blinking, I shut down. Like a boiling kettle that had been unplugged.

    ¡°Sato Kodai-san is sick,¡± his wife repeated, and at that moment, I realized how uncomfortable she was in this conversation and in this situation. ¡°He¡¯s undergoing treatment, Shoda-san¡­ he has chronic depression. Sato-san is constantly on medication¡­ Thank you, Shoda-san, for trying to share your perspective. And for not choosing to escalate the conversation into a conflict¡­¡±

    When the shock passed, and the sudden turn of events settled in, I frowned:

    ¡°But why doesn¡¯t your daughter know about this, Yoko Kodai-san?¡±

    Yoko sighed heavily:

    ¡°She knows. I¡¯ve tried to explain it to her, but, um¡­ I think she doesn¡¯t take it as seriously as she should. Maybe because of her age - not many twelve-year-olds can grasp that the diagnosis ¡®depression¡¯ is more than just ¡®feeling down.¡¯ Or maybe it¡¯s because of the internet and the fact that now every child has the ability to read what people write online. I know what I¡¯m talking about; I¡¯ve read what they write on various, um¡­¡±

    ¡°Forums?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, yes. On forums about chronic depression. Yui is a smart and diligent girl; she reads a lot and understands things, but¡­ It¡¯s not like what they say there, it¡¯s much worse!¡­ Or, well¡­ maybe I¡­ I really tried to talk to her,¡± she sighed, lowering her head and hiding under strands of dark hair again, ¡°With Yui.¡±

    It¡¯s rare to find yourself in a situation where someone else¡¯s mother is trying to justify the problems with her child to you. To another child.

    Although, maybe she¡¯s doing it to herself.

    I just nodded. There was nothing to say.

    Well¡­ except for one thing: I¡¯m not a doctor, but I¡¯m pretty sure alcohol is contraindicated for depression. Even if it¡¯s just a couple of beers in the evening¡­ it might actually be worse.

    But I doubted I could change anything, so I said nothing.

    Yoko broke the silence first:

    ¡°From the way you reacted during the conversation, Shoda-san, I can see that you act much more maturely. Like an adult. I¡¯m sorry that we couldn¡¯t convey our thoughts¡­ or at least have a proper conversation. I truly am.¡±

    I knew the chances were slim, but I decided to try:

    ¡°Hmm, but¡­ would you, personally, Kodai-san, be able to help her¡­¡±

    ¡°No.¡± came the sharp, whiplike response. ¡°I won¡¯t go against my husband¡¯s decision, and I certainly won¡¯t act behind his back, Shoda-san.¡±

    ¡°I apologize, Yoko Kodai-san,¡± I bowed in turn. Just as expected.

    Damn these feudal customs, but¡­ we have to deal with what we have.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± she softened noticeably. ¡°I understand that you had to try. Thank you very much for supporting my¡­ our daughter.¡±

    ***

    As I walked home through the evening city, I pondered the situation.

    Maybe it¡¯s good that I am who I am. In my place, any of those transmigrants I¡¯d seen in anime before my death would have rushed in, fists and ego flying¡­ what was that genre of anime called again¡­

    I, however, thought a bit, acted cautiously - and in the end, avoided making a mess.

    Live and learn.

    Unfortunately, even if things are as they are¡­ it doesn¡¯t change anything.

    I need a trained Yui, and I need money, which I don¡¯t have, for this damn training. I can¡¯t teach her myself, and no one will train her for free.

    Why do I need her?

    Because, first and foremost, I already promised her.

    Sure, I could back out¡­ at the first problem, right?

    I could betray¡­ the first person who trusted me, right?

    Great hero you¡¯ll be.

    No. No one needs a shitty savior if he can¡¯t keep his word and can¡¯t even help a little girl! Besides¡­ a hero MUST help people! That¡¯s the whole point!

    This is my first, primitive¡­ you could say, quest.

    On the way, I half-heartedly searched the internet for grants for gifted youth who will become the next generation of heroes.

    Not to say I found nothing - such funds do exist - but their waitlists were booked years in advance. No need to explain why.

    Neither Yui nor I can find work right now. And we don¡¯t have time for it anyway.

    I smirked humorlessly. What a lousy reborn protagonist I am. Someone else in my place would already be running some global corporation - weapons, social networks, or gaming¡­ at the very least, they¡¯d have written a bestselling book. Or inherited a factory¡­ or started recording music¡­

    No.

    And it¡¯s not like I didn¡¯t try.

    But this world is several hundred years older than my home¡­ my first world. Most of the cultural values, artistic works, paintings, films, and music from mine are also present here. The countries and even historical figures, up to a point, are the same. Inheritance didn¡¯t come my way - being from the lower-middle class, that was obvious. The technology here is far ahead of my time. And finally, I didn¡¯t turn out to be much of a writer either¡­ well, I¡¯ve already mentioned that.

    And most importantly, I¡¯ve devoted all my time to training, studying, self-motivation, and preparing for the future.

    And here I am, prepared.

    And, ironically, I KNOW the simple solution.

    Maybe they¡¯ll refuse, maybe they can¡¯t afford it, but without trying - I¡¯ll never know.

    After all, in these twelve years, I¡¯ve never asked for anything¡­

    So why is it so hard?!

    To swallow my utterly absurd, misplaced pride, and just¡­

    Ask my parents for help?

    Taking a deep, shaky breath, I knocked on the kitchen door. Dad waved warmly, Mom smiled - we¡¯d been getting along better lately; she couldn¡¯t be more pleased with her independent, wise-beyond-his-years, and determined son.

    I exhaled loudly. Another tough conversation awaited me¡­

 Episode 5. Part III.

    Saturday evening was like a reflection of Friday evening, only in a distorted mirror. I brought Yui home, my parents met her and asked a few questions. Some of the questions were on topic, some even touched on the demonstration of Yui''s quirk... some were inappropriate and caused "second-hand embarrassment," but knowing my mother, it would have been incredibly naive to hope that she wouldn''t ask about our relationship.

    Initially, I just wanted to borrow some money. But I didn''t succeed, which didn''t particularly surprise me... damn this age. It''s annoying.

    My parents thought it over. They checked their bank accounts. They let Yui go; they liked her... but whether Yui liked my parents, I couldn''t tell, because Kodai treated this visit like a dangerous, complex, and extremely important secret mission, and the whole evening she was even more... Yui.

    Emotionless, stern, and quiet, like a tree in the taiga.

    When she left, after a consultation, my folks gave their approval.

    I was... happy. And perhaps even delighted, like any ordinary boy.

    Only the gift was unusual.

    On Sunday, I accompanied Yui to her training session, and it seemed that only at that moment did it dawn on her that Saturday wasn''t just a gesture of politeness and what I had done and why.

    Monday morning started even more strangely: in the early morning, when it''s still dark and supervillains roam the streets, right on the porch of my apartment building, as I was heading out for my run... I found a young future heroine, who, slightly out of breath and nervous...

    I don''t even know how to put it.

    It would have been better if she had confessed her love to me, seriously. I wouldn''t know what to do with that either, but at least I could have expected it...

    Nooo. On the doorstep of my home, I met Yui Kodai, who, in all seriousness, well, almost in all seriousness, tried to pledge her vassal loyalty to me.

    Like to her liege lord.

    Like, damn it, the samurai did five centuries ago.

    Yoko, damn it, Kodai, what did you give your daughter to read as a child?!

    With threats and futile gestures, I managed to drive Kodai back to her home¡ªto get some more sleep. However, the day, having already started off strange, remained so, and Yui turned out to be unexpectedly firm in her decision to become my... good lord, what are you even trying to become?! Whatever I command... darn it, Kodai, I''m not the kind of person who wants to dominate a twelve-year-old... what do you mean "I''ll grow up?!" What are you reading at home, for crying out loud?!

    But...

    The samurai in a skirt couldn''t be stopped. Her gray-blue eyes looked firm and determined.

    Which, by the way, doesn''t surprise me. I already know she''s persistent. I know and appreciate it.

    In the end, I... I offered friendship and combat comradeship in return. And equal partnership.

    What else could I do?

    ***

    A month later¡ªin August¡ªit became clear that the invisible boundary... some kind of wall or chasm between me and Yui and the other classmates wasn¡¯t going to disappear.

    Not that I was going to do anything about it or was even against it, really.

    Yui got into the habit of spending as much time as possible next to me. In class, she now sat at the desk next to mine, and during breaks, she quietly followed me like a little shadow. Given the circumstances, I "grew up" in this world as, to put it mildly, not the most sociable person, and if it were someone else, I probably would have been irritated.

    But this was Yui, who most of the time was silent, didn''t draw attention to herself, and was sweet, smart, and hardworking, so we got along well.

    As for the other kids... I obviously had no common topics for conversation, no similar interests, and no real interest in them. Kodai alone, like a needle in a haystack, stood out among the gray and boring kids... stabbing me right where it counts... um, not the point.

    The other students seemed to subconsciously feel that I was different¡ªstronger, older. More disciplined. And my would-be vassal was always around, gradually "soaking up" this¡ªwhat I consider the correct¡ªattitude towards life.

    And it''s not that I didn¡¯t see anyone among the students who could potentially become a hero¡ªHimari, for example, Haruki, or... that guy with claws, I don''t remember his name... Even the strangest person in the world I''ve ever seen!

    A guy named Yamato, whose head looked like... one big, enormous eyeball! I''ve been observing him for two months, but I still haven''t figured out how and where he eats. Or how he talks. Or how people normally communicate with him. But even his quirk was quite...

    In general, any one of them, judging purely by their quirks, could become a hero.

    However, they lacked the most important thing: dreams, persistence, strength of spirit.

    Or, at the very least, the desire to help people, to follow ideals, and to repeatedly inflict physical injuries on themselves, each one worse than the last...

    No one had it.

    Or at least, so I thought until a guy from another class approached us during a break.

    Short, skinny, dark-haired with messy, curly hair. He looked like Midoriya, the protagonist of the story I supposedly ended up in... well, how I imagined him... Only with a lock of hair falling over his eyes and a mean look. And much gloomier and more toxic.

    Muuuch gloomier and more toxic.

    This was particularly evident in the fact that he didn''t come for advice or to share common interests, but to vent his frustration on us.

    The first thing the nameless guy did was cross his arms over his chest and say in a scornful, dismissive tone:

    "So these are the future heroes! Training hard, I see!"

    Yui and I exchanged glances. The girl was sitting properly on the windowsill, adjusting her uniform skirt and reading a book (Best Jeanist''s biography, by the way), while I was eating my mother''s packed lunch with an appetite worked up from the morning''s training. A bento, if "in our language."

    I turned my head back to the guy, slowly raising an eyebrow, knowing how much this expression on my face irritates people. The guy immediately bristled and raised his voice:

    "And what, you don''t even have anything to say back?!"

    I don''t know about Nirengeki in the series, but my years of persistent, daily physical training have significantly boosted growth hormone production by my adenohypophysis. I guess I could have stood up and applied some "psychological" pressure, considering I was a good head taller.

    But I was in a fairly peaceful mood, so I decided to try and defuse the conflict. Besides, I was diligently instilling in myself the mindset of a hero¡ªtalk first, hit later.

    "Maybe you could at least tell us what your problem is?" I asked, clicking my chopsticks together in confusion. Like, I have no idea why you''re so tense, du-u-ude, relax, take a breath...

    "My problem is YOU!" the guy nearly shouted. "You''ve both been given such an amazing opportunity, one that everyone," he pointed behind him where our classmates were still staring at us, "would be willing to fight for, I would give my arm to have the same quirk... to become a hero... I would train every day! During breaks, during classes... I would already be a hero! And you... you just read books, damn it... acting like you''re better than us... when you just got lucky..." he was almost in tears by the end.

    "Ah, this again."

    Not the most pleasant reference to Yui''s father flashed through my mind, who used to say "this" with exactly the same resigned expression, though the meaning was opposite.

    I sighed, put my food aside, and leaned back in my chair.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "Kid... what''s your name?"

    "Mikumo," the aggressor grumbled.

    "Alright, Mikumo-san. Tell me, do you really believe that the defining element of a hero''s profession is their quirk?"

    The guy blinked a couple of times. Then got angry:

    "Of course! What, are you going to mock me now?! I..."

    "Yes, quirks are important," I interrupted, "But what''s far more important is the ability to think and be creative in using them."

    Taking advantage of the fact that Mikumo was choking on his overwhelming emotions, I continued leisurely:

    "Allow me to prove it. Take, for example, our classmate Haruki-san," I pointed my chopsticks at a tall, lanky guy who instantly found himself in the spotlight of the entire class and began to fidget nervously, "who can extend parts of his body, like his neck, forearms, and shins, and also make them flexible. I don''t interact much with my classmates, so I might be wrong..."¡ªin fact, I interacted so little with them that I still used the honorific "-san," while everyone else had long switched to "-kun" and "-chan," or dropped them altogether¡ª"But I have the impression that Haruki-san believes he can''t become a hero and that his power is almost useless. Is that right, Haruki-san?" I raised my voice slightly.

    The poor guy was so lost that he swallowed his tongue and just nodded nervously.

    I nodded back:

    "I can understand Haruki-san''s doubts. However, if I were in his place, I wouldn''t be discouraged, I wouldn''t give up, and I would become a hero..."

    "Ha!" our curly guest laughed mockingly, pointing a finger at me, "Sure, of course! Go ahead and tell us how exactly¡­¡±

    "... to figure out the subject, make the right choice, and spend at least a decade studying the most effective martial arts based on grappling and throws," I continued, as if nothing had happened.

    Mikumo abruptly fell silent.

    "With Haruki''s body and abilities, he could become an excellent close combat fighter, a fantastic judoka with such long reach! Not to mention, with the ability to extend his arms and legs, he could overcome any walls or obstacles while rescuing people! Climb through a window three meters up, grab a criminal on the other side of the room... rescue a kitten from a tree," I shrugged and smiled.

    The whole class went quiet, listening intently.

    Our guest, the dark-haired boy, who was no longer so aggressive, tried to object... but couldn''t:

    "But that''s not... how do you even know..."

    "Trust me, I know what I''m talking about because I''ve been studying the martial arts best suited to my quirk for years. Or take Yui-chan, for example," I gestured toward her, and the girl nodded with dignity, "She''s been training for a month in the fighting styles that best enhance her combat potential. Want another example?"

    "... I..."

    "No problem. For instance, Yuto-san," I pointed my chopsticks at a cheerful, small boy who, however, nervously shifted out of the chopsticks'' trajectory, as if I was going to throw them at him and hurt him. Even though he was on the other side of the classroom.

    Not that I couldn''t... but he doesn''t know that.

    Am I really that intimidating?..

    "Yuto-san has incredibly strong suction cups on his hands and feet," I continued drilling the idea into my classmates, "Yuto-san thinks they''re useless for a hero career. I understand why he might think that. But if I were in his place, I wouldn''t think that way."

    "Why?" Yuto exclaimed. "What use could they be?"

    "Of course, they can be useful. You all seem to forget that heroes don''t necessarily have to fight against criminal gangs like the Yakuza every day," a couple of students shuddered at those words. "In today''s world, there are daily catastrophes, malfunctions, fires, accidents, car crashes, and so on. And often, people faced with such events are helpless. But not you, Yuto-san! Because you could climb any building, reach any hard-to-access places, and rescue people from fires!"

    "But... I won''t be able to do anything to villains..." Yuto muttered gloomily.

    "Oh really? The ability to stick to any surface would allow you to make absolutely unbreakable holds in a fight. Even without a combat quirk, you could still disable one, almost any opponent¡ªjust by clinching with someone! Thus reducing the number of enemies your teammates need to defeat. All you need to do is bulk up, gain some weight, and do some wrestling..."

    I shrugged, paused, and popped some sashimi into my mouth.

    Mikumo was grumbling quietly but said nothing.

    Yuto rummaged through his backpack, pulled out a notebook, and began feverishly writing something down.

    "Niren...-san," hesitantly spoke one of the girls in the class, "What can you say about my quirk? Would it be useful?"

    After thinking for a moment and recalling what she could do, I nodded in agreement:

    "Of course, Himari-san!"

    This girl could create bright light flashes at a distance¡ªred, blue, green... and blinding white too.

    "But they''re just flashes... special effects, like in movies. They don''t even cause any damage," the girl murmured, adjusting her glasses.

    I smirked:

    "Oh, Himari-san, why be so bloodthirsty?" The girl blushed. "In most encounters between criminals and law enforcement, the latter tries to use non-lethal methods... of conflict resolution. And do you know which one is the most popular? Alongside rubber bullets and powerful water cannons, of course, but let''s skip that for now..."

    "N-no..."

    "Flashbang grenades, Himari-san," I pointed to my own eyes. "We have a lot of photoreceptors in our eyes that are calibrated for a certain level of illumination. But you can exceed it¡ªand most opponents will be disabled for a long time; they won''t be able to see anything, they''ll be helpless and easily captured by the other heroes, or they might even lose consciousness due to sensory overload. After all, heroes rarely work alone¡ªthey form teams with complementary abilities. And you can also cover your team''s movements with such flashes! Or you can distract and confuse the enemy by creating flashes where you aren''t. And you can also signal allies from a distance using your power like a flare!... And also..."

    Somewhere deep in the class, there was a half-stifled sigh with something like "...kami-sama, he''s so cool..." and strict Yui looked disapprovingly in that direction.

    I kept a straight face, even though I wanted to laugh incredibly.

    "There are no weak quirks, guys," I paused, slightly tired as I repeated my key point, addressing the entire class. "There are only weak-spirited people with a lack of imagination. Practically any quirk can be put to good use, and the application of almost any power can be turned into a combat advantage. And if the quirk isn''t combat-oriented at all... study mechanics and physics. Technology has advanced to the point where a couple of hero gadgets can make a hero out of anyone. By the way, even UA has a Support Department, have you heard of it?"

    A murmur of agreement interrupted by a newly awakened Mikumo, who challengingly addressed me:

    "Practically any quirk, huh? What about mine? Are you going to send it to mechanics too?"

    Ready for round two?

    Sighing again, I dutifully asked (since otherwise, we''d be arguing here for another hour):

    "And what is your quirk?"

    The troubled boy had been waiting for this:

    "I can run really fast..."

    Seriously? Then why are you complaining?

    "...but only on water, got it?!" he shouted. His expression amusingly mixed a sense of smug victory over me and the deep suffering of a loser with a shattered dream. "What do you say to that? How can I become a hero with such a useless quirk?!"

    I thought for a moment before answering.

    I decided not to joke about the Jesus we deserve.

    I clarified:

    "On any water? Even, say, on droplets or a pressurized stream of water?"

    "Well, yeah..." Mikumo hesitated, "but not at full strength... Crap, what difference does it make! It won''t help me at all!"

    "What stops you from becoming a hero specializing in marine and ocean rescue operations?" Yui suddenly interjected, tapping her lips thoughtfully. Folks, have some decency! Even my frosty student has had enough of this!

    Mikumo was at a loss again¡ªwhether from the obviousness of the suggestion or the sudden female attention:

    "But that''s not... that''s not the same! I''d be useless on land, and... and... and I wouldn''t be able to save anyone on the water either, I can''t run with someone in my arms, and... and nobody needs marine heroes... and I wouldn''t be able to protect myself at all!"

    "Nonsense, Mikumo," I drawled, leaning on the desk and propping my chin with my hand. "Use your imagination. You need flexibility of mind, not a powerful quirk. Nothing''s stopping you from, say, turning to the tech guys and carrying around a dozen quickly inflatable rubber boats to save people in shipwrecks. You could even replace the motor with your legs. Imagine how many people you..."

    "But what''s the point?!" the kid exploded. "Any rescue boat could do the same!"

    "Oh really?" I started messing with the teenager''s not-yet-developed central ganglion. "What do you think a shipwreck looks like? There are tons of debris. Or say, an accident on an oil rig? What if there''s so much flammable substance in the water that the surface catches fire? Or what if the ship runs aground on some reef? Or what if there are some sharks? In short, there are plenty of situations where no boat can reach the victims, the rescuers will have to wait for a helicopter, which might take forever to arrive... and then, suddenly, there you are, all handsome and mobile, running across the water''s surface, reaching any point, and helping everyone who needs it!"

    Mikumo''s aggression evaporated, and he slumped.

    "So what, am I just supposed to sit and wait for a suitable disaster where I can be useful?" he asked quietly.

    I stood up from my desk, yawned, and stretched.

    "No. You''ve already mentioned your quirk, and I''ve talked about using it wisely... But the most important thing for someone who wants to become a hero is persistence. No, you shouldn''t sit idly by. Everyone who trains hard, everyone who wants to get into UA, or Shiketsu, or... what''s it called... oh, I remembered, Ketsubutsu Academy. Anyway, all future heroes know that if you develop your quirk, it will become stronger, just like if you train your body, it will become stronger, just like if you train your combat skills, you''ll become a better fighter. That''s why WE," I pointed to Yui, then to myself, and then clenched my fist, "WILL DEFINITELY become heroes. Not because we''re lucky, but because we work hard and consistently to become the best."

    I poked Mikumo in the chest, almost hitting him:

    "And you''re worried that any boat could replace you, right? Well, let''s imagine that if you train your quirk every day for the next three years, you''ll end up faster than any boat, huh? And what if, by training day and night, you become the only one who can move across the sea during a storm, huh? Yes, of course, not all of us have bright quirks like Endeavor''s. Not everyone has the talent of All Might. But that doesn''t mean we should give up. It means, damn it, that we need to play with the cards we''re dealt and squeeze the most out of them! Not whine about how lucky someone else is. Heroes aren''t those who are lucky; they''re those who don''t give up. Best Jeanist can confirm that," I waved toward Yui''s book.

    The class was silent, Yui was silent, the guest was silent too.

    I turned to leave, but I decided to give some hope to the boy, who was looking at the floor with a lost expression:

    "And you know, when you do get into one of the hero academies, nothing''s stopping you from asking the engineers to make you a suit, say... with a pressurized water tank on your back and two hoses running to your feet, which will, in turn, give you acceleration on land. Right?"

    Mikumo''s jaw slowly dropped.

    And I, satisfied with the effect, left the classroom.

    Wait a minute. I threw a cool line, left like a boss... but where am I going if the lesson is about to start?

    Yeah, not great.

    Laughing, I ducked into the restroom and then headed back.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Here''s a sketch that served as the basis for Mikumo''s image.

    In fact, this is an early concept drawing of Midoriya by the manga author¡ªwho initially was supposed to be a dark character without a quirk.

    But the producers intervened, and Izuku got a quirk :)

    One of those rare cases where producer intervention actually benefited the project, rather than the opposite.

 Episode 5. Part IV.

    The next day, just as I sat down at my desk¡ªnot even Yui had arrived yet¡ªa whole... delegation (I can''t think of a better word) of classmates approached me.

    Among them were those to whom I had painted a heroic future yesterday, and those who didn¡¯t get such luck. There was also a sort of ambassador.

    That role was taken by the most cheerful, bright, and straightforward girl in the class¡ªa local ray of sunshine and an earthquake in one person named Akari.

    Before my reincarnation in this world, I thought that twin tails, or rather, the two long pigtails typical of anime, were just a clich¨¦ with no relation to reality.

    Well, she had those very pigtails, yes. With ribbons and all that.

    This Akari, to put it bluntly, provocatively sat right on the edge of my desk and immediately started her speech:

    "Shoda-kun!"¡ªOh, I¡¯ve been promoted. "We, after discussing it with the whole class, decided... to very, very much ask you to help us!"

    She quickly stood up again, bowed in something vaguely resembling a bow, and clasped her hands together as if in prayer. She did all this so energetically that she almost smacked me in the face with one of her pigtails.

    Despite my usual indifference, I couldn¡¯t help but smile.

    "And how exactly can I help you, dear classmates?"

    Yui approached. In her manner, she silently sat down on the windowsill behind me, pulled out a book but didn¡¯t open it¡ªshe was listening.

    "We, everyone who came... well, excluding those who came yesterday... I mean, didn¡¯t come, but... oh, in short, we¡¯re asking you to con-sult us! Regarding our quirks and hero careers!"

    "Like yesterday?"

    "Yes!" Akari enthusiastically nodded, her pigtails acting as fans. I noticed how the guys behind her moved¡ªsome backed away, while others... moved closer.

    "No problem, guys," I replied, trying not to burst out laughing, "who¡¯s first?"

    "Well..."

    "We..."

    "Me!" Akari raised her hand, stepping forward and without any hint of shyness, pushing everyone else to the back of the classroom. No one seemed to mind¡ªwithout her, probably not many would have dared to approach the big and scary... well, small, but still scary Niren Shoda.

    "Alright. So what¡¯s your quirk, Akari-san?"

    "Oh, you can drop the suffix, or use ¡®-chan¡¯ if you like, you¡¯re so coo... oh... Anyway, I can talk to cats! Find out what they¡¯ve seen, where they¡¯ve been, and where they are now, ask them to do something, well, not too complicated. I-it¡¯s not a combat quirk, but... as you said, I¡¯m willing to try and... well..."

    At that moment, seeing her eyes up close, I suddenly realized that all this cheerful "chatter" was nothing more than a mask, a defense, like a samurai¡¯s cold calm.

    Moreover, the girl¡ªno, Akari¡ªdidn¡¯t really hope for anything. She had already resigned herself and accepted my obviously negative response. Her eyes¡ªby the way, beautiful, large eyes with that very iconic cat-like slit pupil¡ªwere almost on the verge of tears, though she hid her sadness skillfully.

    Well. I do have a negative response.

    But I won¡¯t give it to you.

    After all, even if the people I¡¯m giving advice to don¡¯t become heroes, at the very least, they can work on themselves, grow as individuals, and learn something useful.

    Akari interpreted my silence in her own way:

    "A... I see, I¡¯ve stunned you with my otherworldly beauty, Sh-Shoda, so much that you forgot about quirks, adm..."

    "I didn¡¯t say no, Akari."

    Interrupting people isn¡¯t usually my style, but I heard her voice start to tremble at the end of the sentence.

    "Y-you didn¡¯t say no?"¡ªshe was so surprised she forgot to keep her cheerful mask.

    "Yes, you¡¯re right, your quirk doesn¡¯t have combat potential, you understand that well," I continued, looking intently at the girl. Perhaps a future heroine is standing before me¡ªI certainly believe in her strength of spirit. "In any form."

    "But?"

    "But... first of all, half of the heroes¡¯ quirks aren¡¯t combat-oriented to some degree. But they achieve their goals through long roads of physical training. I can assure you that a trained fighter without a quirk, who has reached the peak of their physical abilities, will likely defeat most quirk users who neglect working on themselves."

    "Only if they¡¯re lucky," Akari smirked, discreetly wiping her tears with her sleeve, pretending to fix her hair. All I could do was shake my head: and with students like these, I thought there wasn¡¯t a single hero here? Am I getting old or what...

    "Secondly, no villain would remain unscathed if you asked a dozen cats to jump on them from a shelf and scratch their face to ribbons," I grinned slightly and added. "And it would never be a problem for you to get a cat down from a tree either."

    Akari and a couple of students burst out laughing at this simple joke.

    "And also... no one could compete with the cat-girl on the merchandise battlefield!"¡ªthe students gawked, all at once. "What did you think? Heroes need to make a living too, and most don¡¯t donate all the money earned from their name to charity, like All Might."

    Akari¡¯s gaze dimmed again:

    "Thanks, Niren, but that¡¯s not quite..."

    I just smiled and delivered the finishing blow:

    "Do you know one of the most successful Japanese hero teams, the Wild Pussycats?"

    "Yes, of course!"¡ªcame the energetic nod.

    "And their quirks?"

    "Um... No," she said, shaking her pigtails so energetically that one of them lightly tapped me on the top of my head.

    "In case you didn¡¯t know, one of them has the ability to transmit her thoughts over a distance."

    I waited a moment.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    "W-wait... that¡¯s it? Without any combat tricks?"

    "Without any combat tricks."

    "Then why is she even... well..."

    "Not all heroes work alone. Actually, most of them are in teams. And this heroine I¡¯m talking about¡ªher power allows her to coordinate the team¡¯s actions, find victims of villains, and people in need of rescue... maybe even villains themselves."

    I could see that familiar fire igniting in the depths of her cat-like eyes.

    A dream. Her dream. My dream. Ours...

    "Thank you, Niren-chan! When I become a hero, I¡¯ll definitely become a sidekick at your agency!"¡ªI was hit by a hurricane, hugged, almost kissed¡ªand she ran off in an unknown direction before I could even react.

    So much for hero training, Niren, damn it, so much for reaction speed, Niren-kun, reflexes you¡¯ve been training since childhood, yeah, yeah...

    Yui quietly snorted. Either disapprovingly or holding back laughter.

    With some wistfulness, I looked at the remaining kids and suddenly felt like... I don¡¯t know, a cashier at an overcrowded store?... Late on Christmas Eve when everyone in line needs to get their champagne scanned in a couple of minutes?...

    "Well then, who¡¯s next?"

    A girl with something like two long antennae on her forehead, like an insect, hesitantly raised her hand.

    "Suzuki-san..." I began, suddenly realizing I only remembered her last name.

    "Yoko," the girl said, slightly embarrassed and a bit indignant, adorably puffing out her antennae: after all, we''ve been classmates for two months, Shoda-san, you should know your classmate¡¯s name!

    But that¡¯s not so simple.

    Classmates in Japan mostly call each other by their last names without any name suffixes... wait, or is it postfixes? For my Japanese part, these ¡°-sans¡± are definitely suffixes, but I still remember from Russian that if a part of the word comes after the end of the word and with a hyphen¡ªit¡¯s a postfix... ah, who cares?

    In short, among friends, it¡¯s just first names, without postfixes, among classmates¡ªjust last names. Usually.

    Whatever the norm, what worked against me was that I was still the antisocial and reclusive oddball, and everyone around me, seeing me all grown-up and serious, naturally became gloomy, dull, and formal. Hence, there¡¯s the ¡°-san¡± after names because nobody feels familiar enough for ¡°-kun,¡± just using the name would be too casual, using just the last name with no postfix feels too formal and out of character for school kids, and calling me by my last name alone¡ªwithout a postfix, they just don¡¯t have the guts for that.

    And probably there should be a separate rule in Japanese etiquette titled ¡°Communicating with Akari.¡± But what¡¯s not there is not there; I survived, and that¡¯s enough...

    In any case, I can¡¯t wait for U.A., where, as an international school for future heroes who regularly risk their lives and save each other¡¯s, there are none of these status-driven hang-ups.

    ***

    The next few breaks¡ªsince they aren¡¯t endless¡ªI spent getting to know my classmates, learning about their quirks, and sharing my... logical approach, I suppose?

    Yoko¡¯s antenna-like appendages picked up vibrations. Sort of like the wires in the ears of my (hopefully) future classmate, only more advanced. And without amplifying sound waves, she seemed to have some ability... I explained to Yoko that having a sense of seismic activity¡ªthis is Japan, after all!¡ªis a real "must-have." She could also, like Akari, track down enemies and victims of earthquakes, landslides, gas explosions, accidents, and All Might¡¯s clashes...

    Even the quiet Yamato approached me¡ªyes, the one with an eyeball for a head, brr. Surprisingly, his quirk actually enhanced his vision. To such an extent that he was his own microscope, telescope, and maybe even a thermal imager.

    Is it any wonder that I suggested he become the kind of hero who works in a team, coordinating the actions of allies and spotting enemies before they even know there¡¯s a raid?

    "And if you want to be a threat on your own, Yamato..."¡ªI shrugged. "Become a sniper."

    It¡¯s amazing how ideas that seem completely obvious to me shock, delight, or deeply intrigue these kids.

    A guy with a name that grated on Japanese ears, Colin, could manipulate colors. Literally: he could temporarily turn black objects or living things red, white, or any other color. And if he tried hard, he could even use several colors, creating a primitive pattern or design. Colin-kun was hopeless as a hero candidate... or so he believed. I found it amusing and explained to him that his quirk was practically ideal for camouflage. Not just for himself, but for his team as well¡ªon a concrete wall, they could become gray, on a brick wall¡ªred, and at night, they could become almost invisible black silhouettes. Moreover, he could signal allies from a great distance, confuse enemies by making them, surrounding objects, and allies all the same color, and if we really wanted to get fantastical...

    "Colin-kun, do you know that certain movies with too bright, frequent, and sharp transitions are dangerous for people with epilepsy?" I asked, waited for a nod, and continued: "I¡¯m not a doctor, but I suspect that a similar effect, though much weaker, could be applied to a healthy person¡ªif you switch colors at a high speed, the human brain might short-circuit, and the criminal could simply throw up, or at least get dizzy. Imagine that! Real combat potential..."

    A restless but insecure blond boy, Minato Shibari, also controlled flowers. And quite literally, too. But this time, they were living flowers¡ªhe could grow all kinds on any inorganic surface. However, only those plants that could be part of a bouquet (yet another strange fact about quirks to add to my collection). Unfortunately, the flowers grew very slowly and reluctantly, so he could never simply turn an enemy into a massive rose bush... and that¡¯s why Shibari-kun was self-conscious, considering himself a "lost cause" and thinking it would be better if he were quirkless.

    It¡¯s also worth noting that "shibari" in Japanese means "binding." The art of bondage, so to speak. And¡­ we can use it!

    I explained to him¡ªour future pro-hero "Florist"¡ªthat while Minato might not be able to take down powerful opponents on his own, that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t become an extremely valuable member of any team.

    "Learn about medicinal plants! Study botany! You could make an enemy slip by growing a slippery flower under their feet! If the villain wears glasses, you could take away their vision! If they wear a watch, you could bind their hands with a thorny rose! If the enemy is fleeing, you could grow some rare fragrant flower on them, and they¡¯d be tracked down by scent dogs or someone with a quirk for smell! And also¡ªtrain and learn new things! That way, if a gun is ever pointed at you, you¡¯ll be ready to jam it with a tulip or a daisy."

    ... finally, when the classmates-turned-supplicants were done, one of the guys who didn¡¯t approach¡ªhe was the one with a quite combat-ready quirk of extending claws, sharp and hard as stone¡ªcouldn¡¯t resist and scoffed:

    "Amazing useful advice from someone with an enhancing quirk. With that, they¡¯ll rip you to pieces at any academy!"

    "Yeah. But I¡¯m getting into the best one," I replied in the same tone.

    I think the potentially conflict-ridden situation could have gone on for quite a while, but Yui suddenly put an end to the dialogue:

    "Niren, it turns out you really love to talk..."

    The curtain falls.

    ***

    And the week after my ¡°lectures,¡± I finally had a breakthrough during training...

    Quite literally. If you could call it that.

    I was sitting on a bench while Mashirao was jumping and running around. What a... good person.

    Meanwhile, I was clapping my hands like a madman, staring at that poor hand, already red as who knows what, glaring at the other, seething with anger...

    And the only result was a weak breeze ruffling my hair.

    Nothing more.

    I understood that I was on the right track, that something was happening. But what exactly I was missing remained a mystery for almost three months.

    The other dojo visitors tactfully stayed quiet and didn¡¯t bother me, but I could guess what their looks might be like. Frustration and anger overwhelmed me to the point where I was barely holding on.

    Suddenly, I remembered Sato¡¯s eyes... those dead fish eyes that perhaps only Yui could bring back to life.

    Then I remembered the eyes of that water-skimmer kid who could run on water¡ªand wasn¡¯t happy about that cheat code. Tearful, miserable eyes of a kid who couldn¡¯t see any place for himself among all these monsters living around him in this absurd, illogical world of a TV show...

    Out of nowhere came a detached and stupid thought that I was just like him.

    Too fixated on the show¡¯s concept of my power. Suppose I land a punch... suppose the power doesn¡¯t work on me... but the point of impact isn¡¯t just one, and not only my palm... after all, before the palms collide, I¡¯m landing a hit, so to speak, on the air... yes, the air molecules near the palm aren¡¯t the same ones I¡¯m ¡°hitting,¡± but... what if?

    Much calmer now, more relaxed, I clapped my hands again and looked at my right palm.

    But with a slightly different perspective.

    As if... focusing my eyes a little stronger than necessary in front of the skin¡¯s surface, so that there was a tiny gap between this focus point and the palm...

    Bang.

    With tremendous force and speed, my forearm nearly tore the humerus out of its joint, arcing down and sideways... and crashed into the corner of the bench with a thud.

    I broke my arm.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    Creation is hard, cheer me up!

    Now that we''re done with every creator''s begging...

    <u></u>

    I found two pieces of art that depict Akari¡¯s appearance :)

    Do you like her? Would you like to see her cameo as a hero-student in the future?)

    To be honest, I just wanted to fix this injustice¡ªthe lack of catgirls in the fandom :D

 Episode 6. "No chains on me". Part I.

    It seems that the bench''s kung fu is stronger than mine.

    ***

    "In the end, it¡¯s all for the best," I tried to convince myself, staring gloomily at the cast. It was a frustrating situation¡ªI had finally figured out what I was missing, understood exactly what needed to be done to achieve the desired result, but now I couldn¡¯t train, and it would be a while before I could.

    Still, I had a pretty good idea of what I had been doing wrong.

    Before, I tried to fixate on my entire arm as the ''impact point'' of my Quirk, treating it as a part of myself. Even if I focused on a specific section, or a particular spot¡ªI¡¯m not an idiot¡ªI think anyone looking at their own limb would perceive it primarily as part of themselves.

    As a result, the impact point was blurred onto the abstract... or perhaps the very concrete me, and nothing worked.

    The right approach turned out to be different: I needed to detach from perceiving my hands or feet (or maybe even other body parts, like my back... although I¡¯ll think about that later) as part of the whole ''me'', to stop seeing my hand as a complex object with all its skin, muscles, and bones (and really, when I create an impact on a concrete wall, I don¡¯t even think about what it¡¯s made of, whether there¡¯s rebar inside, or if it¡¯s part of a building, and so on), and instead see only a specific point on the skin. As if I were wearing thin leather gloves and wanted to impact not the hand itself but the surface... of the skin. A bit of a paradox, but there you go.

    In other words, I taught myself to perceive the same hand not as part of my body and therefore part of the source of the Quirk, but as a discrete, separate object. I just bypassed some psychological block in my head¡ªand it worked... well, if I¡¯m right.

    Being the stubborn aspiring pro hero that I am, obsessed with years of training, I tested this hypothesis right in the hospital as soon as they put the cast on.

    Why not? I had another hand, time while they were filling out paperwork, and if anything happened again, I wouldn¡¯t need to go anywhere.

    But this time, I was almost certain it would work. Plus, I used the bare minimum of force¡ªthe first time, my radius broke mainly because of the surprise. And bad luck, of course.

    I looked at my left palm... turned it forward...

    After a light clap, my intact hand was gently pushed back into the air, as if someone had walked by and given me a casual high-five.

    I exhaled and smiled wearily. Then winced in pain as I tried to lean back on the couch, forgetting that I was sitting on a hospital bench, not a sofa.

    The day was just beginning...

    ***

    Then everything started spinning... again.

    I was back on track, moving forward towards my goal¡ªand I wasn¡¯t going to let minor inconveniences like a broken bone slow me down.

    When I finally made it to school the next day with my broken arm, I made quite an impression: many of my classmates who had been considering a career as a superhero got really serious when they learned the reason for the fracture (I wasn¡¯t keeping it a secret). Now they had a closer look at what I meant by ''serious training.''

    That guy with the claws (when will I remember his name? Hayato, maybe?) and the water runner Mikumo lingered around the edges in the hallways and cafeteria, clearly wanting to ask something, but my grumpy face and Yui¡¯s stern caretaking (seriously, she had taken to looking after me, which was both annoying and touching) were enough to keep them at bay.

    No ''Wolverine'' regeneration was granted to me by either my Quirk or the fact of my reincarnation, so I could only remove the cast after a month. And I was lucky at that, as the fracture was uncomplicated.

    It¡¯s becoming more and more apparent to me that the so-called ''Quirk Factor'' (a term coined by various scientists and other experts to describe the combination of immunity, endurance, muscle density, and ligament elasticity that people of the new generation possess to a much higher degree than ordinary humans without Quirks) doesn¡¯t really apply to me. I have no body protection, no enhanced reflexes, no Olympic-level strength or speed...

    All I have is a long-distance support-type Quirk, damn it.

    I refused to accept that.

    Which, however, doesn¡¯t change the fact that if I get into a clinch with some Nomu or even Shigaraki, I¡¯m a dead man in seconds.

    That means I need to be VERY fast. And skilled. That whole ''float like a butterfly, sting like a bee'' thing¡ªI need to jump in quickly and deliver an enhanced blow, then promptly break away, focusing entirely on attack, dodges, and speed. Hard blocks, as well as glancing ones, and even my favorite counterattacks, are out¡ªif I take even one hit in return, the story¡¯s over.

    Sigh... where can I get teleportation... or Iron Man¡¯s armor?

    Anyway, while lugging around the cast, I didn¡¯t waste time: over the month, I managed to decently learn how to release... a wave? An impulse? Seriously, I need to come up with a name for my Quirk and its action because my vocabulary is running out. On one hand, the name should be flashy¡ªjust like my entire superhero persona, from costume to name. After all, if I survive my training at U.A., I¡¯ll need to make a living somehow.

    But on the other hand, I don¡¯t plan on making typical idiot mistakes.

    All available information about powerful heroes (and I didn¡¯t plan on becoming anything less) is accumulated online by their fans on thematic ''wikis.'' Where any villain with a brain big enough to read can easily find it. And as if that weren¡¯t enough, many heroic individuals choose such superhero nicknames and Quirk names that any imbecile, hearing it once, can immediately understand what it¡¯s all about.

    Yes, you won¡¯t derive all the details of the power¡¯s usage, Quirk limitations, duration, and so on from just the name. That¡¯s what fan sites are for, haha. But why do these wonderful, noble, heroic fellows so rarely think that any information about you as a hero is an advantage? Professional deformation from constant public exposure, I guess.

    An advantage, by the way, that the League of Villains in the original timeline used quite effectively. Even more so because in the anime, among the good guys, there was supposedly some traitor who was never revealed, and the heroes knew squat about the villains, while the villains knew almost everything about the heroes and students.

    And just out of curiosity, has no one ever considered that many heroes with brains use such pseudonyms, and names for their Quirks too, that it¡¯s hard to draw any concrete conclusions from them? All Might, Endeavor, and Deku come to mind, along with Crimson Riot, Thirteen, the ninja Edgeshot with his ''paper limbs,'' Ingenium... take the latter, for example¡ªno one knows for sure how exactly his speed works, whether his knightly armor is connected to his Quirk, if it¡¯s real armor, or just for show, and so on.

    Well, nothing to worry about, brother, your dear brother will mess everything up...

    Anyway, I digress.

    At first, I was creating something like an air shove with my whole hand, starting with a light clap like in the hospital and ending with a full-blown ''push'' that created a gust of wind and threw me backward (fortunately, the tailed dojo master, though he frowned, let me back in, so I fell onto a pile of mats).

    Progress was evident, though in the early days, I beat my left palm black and blue despite the bandages¡ªit was incredible, but these ''reverse boosts,'' returning some of the impulse to me, also delivered a powerful kickback. It was as if I were firing a large-caliber gun. Obvious, but I was too caught up in the possibilities. Plus, when creating a powerful directed ''strike,'' I risked dislocating my shoulder or wrist. For my purposes, it turned out to be more effective to make this ''Quirk impulse'' (ugh) defocused and spread it evenly in all directions, which reduced the kinetic energy transferred to my body somewhat, but it also made the direction of movement more controllable and predictable, meaning I didn¡¯t just fly off anywhere.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    However, it was much easier and safer with the bandages, that¡¯s a fact. So, within a week, I got the hang of directing the impulse where I needed and not losing control of my only intact... well, not so intact anymore... upper limb.

    But it wasn¡¯t enough for me.

    The first time I tried it with my leg, I almost got into another embarrassing situation¡ªI didn¡¯t expect to seriously launch myself into the air on the first try (I wasn¡¯t even expecting to move from my spot), so I didn¡¯t calculate my heroic strength and ended up doing a crooked backflip, landing on the same mats.

    Speaking of Stark¡¯s armor¡ªthe scene of my flight was exactly like in the first Iron Man movie, where the crazed billionaire tested the repulsors on his hands and feet, only to slam into the ceiling, then into his car, and finally get sprayed by a fire extinguisher from his robotic assistant.

    Yeah, that¡¯s what happened to me too. Except there wasn¡¯t a race car in the dojo, but I tried my best. First, I thought of ''ten percent power'' for my impulse, then it was like a grenade exploded under my right foot, I bounced off the dojo ceiling, and then I made a deliberate (outright lie, but I wasn¡¯t going to admit it to anyone!) dive onto the pile of long-suffering mats, and finally, instead of a robot, Mashirao came running with his tail in the air. I was scared to imagine what exactly he intended to pour on me, so I quickly got up and hobbled away. Only got away with a minor sprain, didn¡¯t even bother my casted arm.

    Yeah, definitely a future hero, damn him, he¡¯d even get me up on broken legs...

    Alright, that was almost as dumb and irresponsible as that genius-playboy in his film. I admit, childhood got the better of me.

    The next time I came to train my ''counter-jumping,'' I showed up in a motorcycle helmet I ordered online (Future Japan! Half-day delivery!), and a set of protective gloves, boots, knee pads, and elbow pads for extreme motorcyclists (luckily, I was strong and tall for my age, plus I was smart and bought the smallest women¡¯s size... though the gear was still a bit too big, so I had to tighten it all the way). I started jumping... well, more like flying off in random directions, falling, somersaulting, and all that.

    A couple of the junior Ojiro kids even tried to laugh at me¡ªuntil I got the hang of it and decided to try a series of jumps... which I ended in style, crashing into a pile of long-suffering mats and kicking it in flight to at least slow myself down.

    But when I kicked the heavy mat under enhancement (really just forgot to cancel the last step of the ''jump sequence''), the poor rectangle flew south, scattering the rest of the mat pile and almost burying the would-be jokers under it.

    There were no more jokes.

    I was lucky I didn¡¯t kick the dojo wall in the same way. Let me remind you, those walls only look like the delicate wooden latticework typical of Japanese culture¡ªbeneath the facade, it¡¯s solid steel. After all, this is where they forge real professional heroes, ones who tread the path of martial arts!

    Although, at the moment, I more resembled an out-of-control villain who injures himself.

    The kickback from the Quirk isn¡¯t huge, but the regular strike occurs just before the enhanced one, even if the difference is measured in milliseconds. With that kind of acceleration, my weight, and the force of the blow, I would have pulverized the bones of my striking leg.

    I recall the anime¡¯s protagonist had protective armored boots that allowed him to kick concrete walls without fear. I¡¯ll take two! Or better yet, four, so I can double up just to be sure...

    A week later, I finally got the cast off and tried combining impulses from all four limbs at once. At first, I thought four was too ambitious¡ªI should start with two¡ªbut then I remembered the movie saga about Tony Stark and realized that for maneuvering and changing trajectory, I actually needed impulses from my hands. Otherwise, I¡¯d be like a car without a steering wheel. Which, as I recently demonstrated by crashing into a wall, doesn¡¯t end well.

    Creating an impulse with my hands was simple: I¡¯d clap my palms together. The effect of the Quirk wasn¡¯t very powerful, but I couldn¡¯t think of a better method.

    As for my ¡°hopping around,¡± it was like playing Flappy Bird, but from a first-person perspective¡ªyou create an impulse under one foot, causing a jump forward and upward, then try to land on the other foot without breaking it. At the moment of ground contact, you create a new impulse, jump again, Mashirao quickly gets out of your way, and oh look, hello wall, be gentle with me... my back, my back!¡­

    All in all, I was as happy as a kid who just got a new LEGO set.

    Hmm. Except this LEGO set came with firecrackers and lighters.

    It¡¯s funny¡ªif any really powerful Quirk user catches me standing still for even a second, they¡¯ll squash me like a bug. And now, if I make even the slightest mistake while moving, I¡¯ll smear myself against the nearest wall, like a bug on a windshield.

    Well, in the worst-case scenario, I¡¯ll "play the hero" and selflessly splatter myself all over a villain, blinding them and giving Midoriya a chance to finish them off... oh, wait, the main bad guy is already blind. Damn, what a shame...

    Alright, enough with the defeatist attitude.

    The biggest problem with this method of movement was that I needed to perfectly synchronize my legs, arms, and Quirk activation. Initially, I tried hopping on one foot or both simultaneously, the ¡°Hulk style,¡± but it turned out to be utterly ineffective.

    Each ¡°step¡± I took, jumping from one foot to the other, launched me at least half a meter into the air and three meters forward, making it look nothing like regular running. Success depended on developing a reflex to swing the alternate leg while airborne, being ready for a hard landing, and placing that leg correctly so it wouldn¡¯t twist in a way physiology didn¡¯t intend.

    Moreover, unless I made a sharp change in direction (let¡¯s not even talk about braking yet¡ªI have no idea how to do it without smashing into a villain), I kept gaining speed with each jump, as the impact of the Quirk-enhanced strike with the ground was already amplified by the previous impulse. It would literally take me years of training to master this damn ¡°superhero stride.¡±

    And that¡¯s not even mentioning that without using my hands, I had very little control over direction, but I needed my hands for attacking the enemy, and not every opponent would have super strength, so I couldn¡¯t forget about blocks and grabs either.

    Though few would survive an attack in the style of an ¡°uncontrollable kinetic projectile, subtype Niren, modification wildly flailing arms trying to stop.¡±

    And when I say ¡°few,¡± I mean it¡ªsee the section on ¡°bug on a windshield.¡±

    I don¡¯t know what kind of amazing movements the explosive blond Bakugo, likely one of my future classmates, has, but if he mastered a similar ¡°flight¡±¡ªthat is, in the anime, he literally flies using explosions from his hands¡ªhe has my respect. He must¡¯ve been training since childhood too.

    Though, in that case, I don¡¯t understand why he doesn¡¯t use his legs to generate explosions. Quirk limitation? Or the user¡¯s limitation?

    After three weeks, I managed to brake for the first time without smashing into a wall or my face¡ªwhen dangerously close to the climbing wall, which this time the merciless Japanese randomness had flung me toward, I managed to extend both hands in front of me, clap, and send both impulses forward, shedding most of my speed and rolling to the bars along the floor.

    My body hurt terribly. The ¡°impulses¡± with almost opposing vectors nearly tore me in half, and then I got dragged across the floor for good measure. I need to brake more gently, more smoothly...

    The next day, my protective gear was joined by a thick motorcycle jacket, though this time a men¡¯s one¡ªI¡¯m frugal, but not that frugal. Despite my height, I looked menacing.

    It was almost a shame that no one in my dojo would get the joke about the party that stinks and me f***** hating these people.

    Then again, what¡¯s there to be surprised about? In this reality, most of the games and movies from my first world that I still remember are either long forgotten or never existed at all.

    After a month, I had gained enough confidence to more or less smoothly move from wall to wall, turn, and even brake. Akira-sensei¡ªmay I be forever grateful and indebted to this man¡ªhad long since set aside about a third of the hall for my training so that I wouldn¡¯t risk, quote, ¡°splattering myself all over his beloved nieces. You should splatter yourself FOR my nieces, Niren, not ON them!¡±

    The trick to smooth and somewhat safe braking turned out to be, first, braking with both feet¡ªI kind of managed to dig my heels into the ground¡ªif I was close enough to the ground when approaching some lovely solid surface¡ªand second, releasing ¡°braking¡± impulses from each hand separately¡ªfirst one, then the other. And if possible, instead of extending my arm, I should lock my shoulder girdle and bend my elbow, tensing my muscles as much as possible. And, if possible, tuck in.

    As a result, I turned into a solid, tense ball of Niren, through which the impulse was more or less evenly distributed, and I avoided injury.

    Later...

    My parents, intrigued by my strange but well-argued purchases, visited the dojo over the weekend, catching me in the middle of training. Oh...

    There were serious talks, with Ojiro-sensei, with me, and even with Mashirao, who played the role of a fluffy moral support. Mom gasped and fanned herself, even though she didn¡¯t actually have a fan, nor any fun; Dad frowned and was simultaneously enviously proud; and Akira rolled his eyes and waved off my stubbornness. Because he knew perfectly well that if I didn¡¯t train in a fully padded room with a prepared person who could provide first aid, I would train without those things, which would negatively affect the survival rate of Niren as a species in a given prefecture.

    At least they came at the end of my ¡°flight¡± training, not at the beginning, when I was crashing into something every day. They were used to the bruises on my body, after all¡ªI¡¯ve been practicing martial arts since childhood.

    And yes, ¡°at the end¡±¡ªI had gained enough control that both I and Akira-sensei considered it safe to resume sparring. Like, enough control over my strength to avoid accidentally injuring an opponent with an unintended burst of power during a jump or strike, and if I hurt myself¡ªwell, Ojiro-senior never really worried about my safety; after all, he had his own pack of blockheads to look after.

    As I stepped into the ¡°ring¡± with Mashi-kun the next day, I grinned with joyful anticipation, while the tailed one seemed a bit nervous.

 Episode 6. Part II.

    Same Time.

    Dojo "Jade Lion."

    Akira Ojiro.

    When Akira-sensei, along with his household, watched the boy sulking in the corner¡ªfor almost a month!¡ªand clearly struggling with his quirk, he understandably concluded that Niren had simply... given up.

    And he wasn¡¯t at all surprised.

    In the world of martial arts, as in the world of quirk users, you encounter this all the time. Someone can''t overcome a limitation in their abilities, causing their entire planned development strategy to collapse. Someone can''t surpass their own limits and simply burns out. With the boy¡¯s training pace, this wouldn¡¯t be surprising. And then there are those, especially the ones who are self-contained, talented, and proud, who can''t bear the complete superiority (here, Akira allowed himself a touch of smugness) of their partner or rival.

    Mashirao, having mastered the movement technique developed with his father, had simply outclassed Niren. What good is a strengthening quirk (yeah, right, strengthening, of course) if your equally strong opponent is simply several times faster?

    Right, none at all.

    That¡¯s why Shoda had broken down.

    Is it a pity? Yes, perhaps. Does Akira feel sorry personally? He wouldn¡¯t say that. Yes, the boy was a good sparring partner for Mashirao, skilled and reasonably daring, but that¡¯s about it. Niren wasn¡¯t even his student; he already came to the dojo with his... he only approached for advice a couple of times...

    Well, if Akira does feel sorry, it¡¯s just a little bit.

    Niren isn''t the last, nor is he the first. Not even in this dojo. Out of which, for example, came his, Akira-sensei''s, aunt, a rather famous (alas, also in the past) lioness heroine "Mane."

    Or her son, Akira''s cousin¡ªShishido, the Lion Hero¡ªwho is currently firmly settled at thirteenth place in the top professional heroes of Japan. He¡¯s been there for several years, not moving up or down.

    Yeah...

    Despite Shishido being, firstly, the typical "son of the mother''s friend" whom Akira was always compared to during his youth, and secondly, a rather peculiar person... well, he chose his superhero alias after his own name because "Shishido is a good name!", what more is there to add... the relationship between the brothers was decent. The Lion Hero was a good person and a good hero, and it wasn''t his fault that he, Shido-kun, was lucky with his quirk (yes, yes, the very exemplar of a strengthening quirk, and with additional secondary abilities to boot).

    But Akiro himself was naturally endowed with only a stubby tail, more like a monkey¡¯s than a lion¡¯s, and an excessively hairy chest, which he had to shave regularly to avoid annoying his wife.

    If only his brother didn¡¯t have such a fanatical obsession with his damn baseball...

    Maybe they would have gotten along better.

    And yet, Akira himself, Master Ojiro now, didn¡¯t leave the dojo...

    Alright, stop feeling sorry for yourself, old man.

    That was a thing of the past.

    Now we''re dealing with the present, and specifically with a boy whose hair was a vague mix of arctic blue and steely grey, with a hint of sky blue.

    A boy who surprised him again.

    When a crash and a muffled gasp came from the bench of the unfortunate lad¡ªone of Akira¡¯s talkative nieces, emboldened, had mockingly dubbed it "Fortress of Solitude"¡ªthe young people started making all sorts of assumptions. Whispering, giggling, getting scared... And it didn¡¯t matter. The main thing was that they didn''t pick on the boy; for ordinary folks without superhuman abilities, Shoda had long been out of reach.

    However, Akira¡¯s trained eye immediately caught Niren¡¯s satisfied smile, even though it was distorted by teeth clenched in pain.

    That kind of smile, that kind of look isn¡¯t easy to confuse with something else, especially not for a sensei with his experience: somehow, the boy had figured out how to overcome his obstacle¡ªwhatever it was.

    And literally the next day, the unstoppable boy showed up at the dojo as if nothing had happened, but now with a cast.

    Akira, once again, understood him perfectly well¡ªit''s hard to sit at home twiddling your thumbs, brimming with energy, if you¡¯ve been forced to sit on the "reserves" bench for a month.

    As for what Niren started... well, what did he start?

    From the outside, to the untrained eye, it might have seemed like the boy had stopped wasting time and had begun practicing the most basic application of his strengthening quirk. Sometimes he would jump a couple of meters high, sometimes he would create a gust of wind with a hand strike, sometimes he would leave a dent in the wall with a kick, that rascal!

    But Akira wasn¡¯t an idiot. He had trained quirk users who then became heroes, even if not of the first rank, and he knew enough about quirks, at least enough to understand¡ªNiren¡¯s quirk is anything but strengthening. People with classic enhancement quirks have muscle fibers that are differently structured; their muscles are often arranged and attached completely differently. And those people move differently¡ªprecise, controlled, low-amplitude, meticulously calculated movements, constantly controlling themselves and their surroundings, always feeling a restrained force, like a dam covered in cracks barely holding back a tsunami of strength and power. Brr.

    Akira once attended a hero gathering from the top thousand by his brother''s invitation, and he saw that bunny girl Mirko¡ªhe literally got goosebumps and his hair stood on end! The girl constantly jumps three meters high, not because she''s an idiot, but because she can''t help it, because she really will smash everything around with an unintentional movement!

    Niren is not like that. He moves like a perfectly ordinary person¡ªyes, trained, yes, with the confidence of an experienced fighter... which, by the way, doesn¡¯t match his age, but that¡¯s another story.

    Yet, the kid could leave a dent in a steel wall with a kick and cover about... how many meters in a single jump just a minute ago? Five? Seven?

    In short, it''s something like contact telekinesis. Or a replay of a previously performed action? Kinetic energy manipulation, maybe? Definitely a quirk with combat potential, but it provides minimal protection for the body of its user¡ªotherwise, the guy wouldn¡¯t have flinched from hitting the bench. Akira wasn¡¯t well-versed in quirk factor theory; after all, he¡¯s a coach, not a scientist. But if there¡¯s no protection, the quirk is by nature a remote one. Oh, and it¡¯s also delayed¡ªsometimes, in the midst of sparring, the effects of Niren¡¯s powerful strikes slightly "lagged." Perhaps the quirk is more defensive in nature, like creating traps or something...

    But does it even matter that his son''s sparring partner didn¡¯t care about this logic?

    Initially skeptical, Akira witnessed Niren mastering new possibilities with giant leaps, catching up with Mashirao.

    And when he finally did, Akira realized that the boy in front of him wasn¡¯t just a talented or determined kid. First, he was a fighter who didn¡¯t give up and pursued his goal, whatever it might be. Second, he was a raw talent who, out of nothing... okay, not out of nothing, but from a limited second-rate quirk from the "B-list," created... something.

    Niren, as if a blacksmith of his own fate, bent and reforged the very foundation of applying this quirk without changing its essence. Turning it into something entirely different, far more dangerous, versatile, and multifunctional. As if he were using it against its "factory settings," as if he knew exactly what he would get in the end, and most importantly, it worked!

    Stolen novel; please report.

    Seriously, the boy became several times more dangerous in just two months¡ªhe was already an extremely strong fighter, especially for his... how old was he... thirteen, maybe, years. With the help of his quirk, he stood a chance of taking down even the toughest adult.

    But now, with such speed and mobility...

    And that¡¯s not even considering the real potential of the full range of his quirk¡¯s applications, which, as Akira suspected, he hadn¡¯t even come close to seeing, since Niren hadn¡¯t fully demonstrated it.

    It was frightening to imagine what he would eventually become.

    And, as much as it was painful to admit, with such potential, he would leave Mashi-kun far behind... just like Shishido had left him behind.

    Akira gritted his teeth.

    The issue, in the case of these boys, is simple math. You can¡¯t argue with the numbers: Mashi has only one "superlimb." Even if his tail were as strong as All Might¡¯s arm, or even just a finger¡ªthat would be enough for a successful hero career, trust me¡ªthat¡¯s still a ratio of one to four. One tail for Mashirao, and four arms and legs for Niren.

    And in the context of a spar between two roughly equal opponents, that decided... everything.

    Sighing, the mustached and slightly tailed man returned to the present, closely observing the fight and making mental notes.

    Mashirao¡¯s technique was top-notch, as always, but his mobility was already lagging¡ªit¡¯s impossible, with one super-tail, to move quickly around the field and block attacks from all sides at the same time. And Niren¡¯s blows were... better not to block them or take them on a hard block. As a result, Mashi was forced to go on the defensive, spinning like a top on the spot and taking all the blows on the slide.

    Niren took advantage of this¡ªon acceleration, he entered from a blind spot, a blind spot that Mashi himself had created, and finished the fight with a powerful sweep that sent his son flying head over heels.

    However, at the last moment, Mashirao managed to react and, hooking the brash boy''s shoulders with the tuft of his tail, pulled him down as well, dragging him by inertia toward those much-abused mats.

    Bam! The room was filled with applause, groans, muffled curses, and admiring whispers.

    On the contrary, Niren just lay on his back, arms spread out, breathing heavily, silently smiling at the ceiling.

    Akira Ojiro grinned into his mustache. Well, Mashi-kun still has a few surprises left for this prodigy. He¡¯ll make sure of it...

    ***

    Niren.

    After my triumphant return to the ranks of the "ass-kickers"¡ªat least in this particular dojo¡ªI was slowly limping home (it was a Sunday evening, after all). The demands of my dark heart for revenge, which had been piling up over the last few months, were finally satisfied.

    Though Mashi, that sly dog, managed to catch me off guard at the end! He''s such a simple guy, not particularly cunning or inventive, and his quirk (visually, at least) isn''t all that impressive, yet still¡ªyou can''t take your eyes off him for a second! And with a teacher like his, no wonder¡ªbefore you can even say "dog," Mashirao''s already circling around you with a guilty smile, ready to overtake you.

    Well, I guess there''s still room for growth, huh...

    By the way, a couple of times during training, in a fit of passion, I actually called him "tail-wagging mutt" and "flea-ridden." The way his face twisted into this confused and offended look made me apologize and promise never to call him that again.

    Out loud.

    We mustn''t hurt the puppies, right!

    Smirking, I looked down at my feet.

    The steady movement of my sneakers sparked a thought: if, by maneuvering my hands during the hopping, I create two quirk activation points with a single clap... and in a fight, I jump around like a grasshopper, marking my own soles and enhancing each step... then technically, every step could leave a marker on the ground.

    So, in essence, I could mine the entire battlefield in real-time.

    Yeah... the possibilities this opens up. Of course, keeping track of even a quarter of those points seems impossible. Or rather, it would have seemed impossible. Before.

    Lately, I''ve started to think there''s something... not wrong, but rather too right with my memory in this world! It''s not quite eidetic, no, and many things from the same school subjects that I hadn''t paid much attention to needed to be relearned. Plus, I actively used knowledge from my previous world¡ªmnemonics, flashcards, spaced repetition, and so on. Nothing special there. Although, this time I was putting in more effort overall¡ªand the results were generally better.

    However, the part of my memory responsible for remembering the surrounding terrain on a visual and, to a lesser extent, tactile level... the very points where I place my quirk markers... that part of my memory works incredibly well. Superhumanly well, even. I remember dozens of such points and can hold them in my head for many minutes without much difficulty. As a side effect, I have an amazing sense of direction. Maybe this is how the so-called "quirk factor" works¡ªthat complex of adaptive reactions of the human body to a superpower? After all, these adaptations vary for everyone.

    This would explain a lot¡ªhow my formed consciousness could have "written itself" onto the underdeveloped cortex of a newborn''s brain when I reincarnated, and why I have an entirely normal, fragile body that''s not resistant to physical damage. Sigh.

    Back to my "mining" strategy...

    Turns out, I''m... Cyrax!

    Or even cooler and more stylish, Smoke!

    God, it''s amazing the things my brain remembers sometimes... after almost twenty years, and one transmigration-reincarnation...

    Here''s the deal: in fighting games¡ªspecifically in my favorite Mortal Kombat (which, damn it, doesn¡¯t exist here)¡ªone of the existing tactics involves using an uppercut, or some other move, to lift the enemy into the air, and then a memorized combo keeps them airborne, preventing them from landing, regrouping, and blocking, thus breaking your combo.

    So, in Mortal Kombat 9, which was always my favorite, only two characters, Smoke and Cyrax, could multiply an opponent by zero with just one endless combo, lifting them once into the air and taking down all one hundred percent of their health bar in one go, kicking them and keeping them airborne.

    But it wasn''t the easiest task, and I remember wasting a couple of evenings on grinding it. My fingers hurt after that...

    So, I''m exactly like Cyrax, only better-looking. For me, a fighting tactic where I circle around the opponent under the quirk''s speed boost on my legs, attacking with the same enhancement on my hands while forcing them to step onto a "bomb"¡ªa marker left earlier¡ªthat would launch them into the air, or at least knock their footing out, depriving them of balance and making them vulnerable, is quite real.

    And then, I add a vertical boost...

    I''m actually quite lucky that this world doesn''t have the typical fantasy elements found in so many isekai (this is still Japan, though in another world, but aside from hero careers and fanboying over them, the youth''s interests are the same), like MANA. No, seriously? If I died and woke up in another world, ridiculous, bright, anime-like, and literally full of quirks, doesn''t it mean I could have just as likely woken up in any other anime or movie? Like that popular ninja series, or that universe with Iron Man, Spider-Man, Captain America, and all the others. Or those fantasy isekai worlds.

    So I''m lucky, very lucky!

    Why? Because I am he... oops, wrong point. Because quirks are compared to muscles for a reason¡ªthey can be trained just like muscles, and through those same trainings, they allow dozens, if not hundreds, of uses in a row without much strain.

    And that''s why I can use my markers already, probably up to a hundred impulses in a single fight, with different purposes and at different ranges (my own personal training in secluded corners of parks, where I practiced long-range quirk applications and combining it with close combat, didn''t go anywhere), because I''ve "leveled up" into a versatile and almost, aside from my almost-zero defense, universal fighter.

    Otherwise, if this were another world and I were a mage with similar abilities, I''d either be a glass cannon with only one or two spells or a weak, useless melee fighter.

    However, any "leveling up," like any character class, comes with its downsides.

    I remember in the version of reality that was, for me, an anime about "pro-heroes," my chubby and short alter ego Nirengeki attacked enemies from a distance, bombarding them with a hail of projectiles¡ªrandom junk that he threw precisely and then accelerated with the enhanced throw. There was even some kind of ricochet calculation... A ranged fighter and support, in every sense.

    I can''t do that.

    Still, no matter what, I chose close combat and ignored ranged attacks. Maybe that was a mistake. Definitely a mistake, since any advantage in a fight is useful for my endeavors.

    But I don''t regret it, because I didn''t develop that skill, focusing on my own combat potential and simply on basic survival.

    And it''s not all bad with my range, if you think about it: since I was sitting by the window in my first school, barely reaching, breaking off tree branches outside with my quirk, which I touched during recess¡ªmuch time has passed. I can now activate a pre-placed marker from almost a kilometer away. I can "remember" them even further, just losing the feeling until I return to the range of sensitivity.

    So, the main thing is to get to them to activate. And my movement speed has recently gotten much better.

    Good stuff.

    Here''s another fun thing, by the way. In our story, there''s the main villain who takes, combines, and gives away quirks, and there''s a secondary character¡ªa kid, a hero in training¡ªwho simply copies them. He seems to have limitations on the number of quirks, the duration he can hold them, and the inability to combine them... So, is it just me, or is there something suspiciously similar between them? Could this guy from Class B be some unsuccessful offspring of All-for-One? Well, why not¡ªhe''s a bad guy too...

    Blinking, I realized I had been hypnotizing the front door of the house for about five minutes. I hadn''t even noticed arriving, lost in thought.

    And, perhaps, I can also blame these musings for my total unpreparedness for the... situation my parents had set up.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Shishido, the Lion Hero, in all the cringe-worthy splendor of a man with a stuffed toy around his neck.

    Mashirao. Probably during the fight with Niren :)

 Episode 6. Part III.

    In short...

    To begin with, it''s the end of November. Winter in Japan is, of course, a joke, at least in my prefecture, but nevertheless, I''ve always loved snow and even looked forward to it a little, when it starts to fall from the sky like gentle dandruff. Yes, yes, suck it up, school kids under pink sakuras, I''m a romantic too.

    The end of the year means a lot of things¡ªboth good and bad¡ªbut for me, it''s primarily about school exams, which are getting harder to brush off like flies each year, a slight hint of nostalgia for my first homeland, Yui''s birthday, which is coming up soon, and my own, which is just after the New Year.

    Now, let''s talk about the latter.

    Who can congratulate me? Well, Yui, well, the cat-girl Akari, a couple of classmates, well, Mashirao... no, that''s all not quite right.

    Parents¡ªthe true fear and horror of Nirengeki Shoda!

    So, since my birthday is in a month and a half, my parents started stirring about it.

    What can you give to a brutal guy like me?

    Nothing.

    I don''t ask for money, I don''t go to parties, my training and everything else have been arranged for a long time, all the equipment for them is in place. And if not, I''ll buy it myself¡ªI''ve saved up a bit.

    Not good¡ªthere''s a son, there''s a birthday, but nothing to give.

    What is important for the son? My parents sat down to think about it.

    And they came up with something so outlandish that you don''t know whether to grab your head, laugh, or look for symbolism and the hand of some unknown force that shoved me into this world.

    The point is, the only thing they''re sure about that interests me is my desire to get into U.A. Not just any school for professionals, but the best one in the country. Maybe even in the world.

    Alright. "And how can your parents help you with this?"¡ªsee the point "all the training has long been arranged." That''s what I thought, and I wasn''t worried about them on that account.

    However...

    "Niren, dear, your father and I have been thinking... and decided to apply for U.A. on your behalf by recommendation! We were going to keep it a surprise until your birthday," Mom rattled off, "but it turned out the commission has two stages of selection for applicants, and registration for the first one is already in December, so for you to have time to register, we need to apply now..."

    Well, I might as well stand or fall.

    Apparently sensing something from my expression, Mom was already preparing to get upset, gathering her artillery in the form of teardrops in the corners of her eyes (yeah, she doesn''t drag it out with such things), while Dad sighed tiredly, though without any surprise.

    So I had to hastily say something, which I managed to do poorly:

    "I... thank you, Mom, Dad, but this is not... - ''not my path of the ninja, dammit,'' - Unexpected. Very unexpected. You see, I really need... - ''hell, I can''t tell them the main reason,'' - Time to think. Yes. Let''s get back to this conversation tomorrow, okay? I''ll try to explain everything clearly and step by step. Don''t be upset, Mom, alright?"

    ***

    Maybe someone else in my place, maybe even another "isekai traveler," if there are any, would be happy about such a plot twist. After all, there''s a legal and reliable way to get into the best academy, essentially without exams. And I had no doubt that I would pass both the first round of selection and the second (what is it anyway, an obstacle course where other participants are hurdles? Don''t make me laugh).

    What''s the problem, then?

    First of all, I''m not an idiot, and I considered this option.

    And I concluded that it has more drawbacks.

    First of all: if we accept as an axiom that "this world equals anime," all key events, like the villains'' attack on the disaster training ground, revolve around the main character and his unlucky (though that''s debatable) classmates.

    Therefore, to influence anything, to save people, to help kick All-For-One''s ass, I absolutely have to get into the U.A.''s "A" class.

    At first glance, the chances of getting there by recommendation are fifty percent, because there are only four such students, two for each class, and at this stage, I suppose I could outdo any of them except Todoroki. Not bad at all.

    But if you dig deeper, the chances are... zero.

    It''s all about prestige. No matter how much the U.A. teachers and PR people claim otherwise and emphasize the equality of the classes, the brightest and potentially most successful students are placed in "A." The son of the number two hero is there, and I can''t beat that bet. The genius Momo is there, and I don''t recall her racing alongside Shoto. Could it be because she''s recommended by the Japanese government and not just a pro-hero? Nah, just a coincidence, pff... and yeah, the fact that All Might''s protege will be studying there is also a coincidence, right?

    In any case, it''s obvious that I won''t get into the "main character" class by recommendation.

    Furthermore, there''s more. In one of the U.A. press conferences I watched, Present Mic was pushing the idea that both classes try to be evenly matched in terms of the variety of quirks represented¡ªso that there''s camouflage, brute strength, and tactics¡ªso that future heroes have experience working with different types of allies. For the same reason, the steel guy and... um... Kirishima, I think, Midoriya''s classmate who can harden his body to near-indestructibility, didn''t end up in the same class.

    So, I can authoritatively say that this is all crap! It was enough to spend half an hour surfing the existing Wikipedia here and read the history of U.A.''s creation from open sources to understand: the hero "B" class was created as an additional political and public tool.

    Of course, a lot has changed since then, but the tendencies remain the same.

    What do I mean? That while there are officially four recommended heroes, in reality, there are more than ten (I got lazy to google, maybe way more) from various institutions. Such as: exchange students from other countries, specifically from the USA (in my admission year, it''s supposed to be some Pony Tsunotori, a wild mix of Japanese, American, and Italian blood) and China (some Rin, just Rin), students from various public organizations like nature conservationists (like that girl cosplaying a toadstool), students recommended by industrial and military corporations (for example, that guy who could do molecular welding, I don''t remember his name), and even from the freaking church!

    No, seriously!

    There was one creepy lady with clear head issues in the anime, with predatory vines growing out of her, who gave me goosebumps even in my past life. A fanatic. So, ten years later in this reality, it took me just a minute of clicking to find her photo on the... Progressive Christianity website, which, though having lost its positions significantly due to quirks, was quite successfully competing with Shintoism for the Japanese flock.

    Religion, in general, changed significantly after quirks appeared, ceasing to be a mechanism controlling millions and mostly turning into something like private volunteer clubs. Like the "Creature Rejection Clan," except not crazed xenophobe racists like the latter, but with a more positive connotation.

    However, Christianity, Islam, and especially Shintoism have stayed afloat. These are the ones I know of. Well, the first two are clear, but Shintoism got a second wind because quirks, especially those that change appearance, fit well with its tenets and traditions.

    On the whole, though, the world has become much more atheistic. Which, to be honest, surprised me. You''re walking down the street, you see a real Satan, and instead of buying your soul for a harem of succubi, he''s talking to you about stock market reports. Phantasmagoria.

    Alright, I''ve digressed again. Like an old man, for Kami-sama''s sake.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    So, can you guess where all these "unofficially recommended" go?

    That''s right, to the specially created "B" class.

    Given all of the above, I have little chance of getting into even the "B" class by recommendation, as half of the spots there are already reserved years in advance. Moreover, the results of the "race," which I vaguely remember from the anime and better from the U.A. website, seem like a fiction to me. Like, "Todoroki, don''t think that just because you''re Endeavor''s son, you''ll get special treatment," and all that.

    Meanwhile, the abilities of all four recommended students, if I recorded my memories correctly and "the world equals anime," would give my skills a hundred points head start. And the fact that I can outdo them doesn''t mean anything¡ªgive them twenty years of practice, and not only me, but entire cities will be leveled to the ground by all four of them. If they went over to the "dark side of the Force," there would be a disaster¡ªa terrorist demolishing buildings, in the case of the guy who can soften inorganics, or an aerial bombing terrorist dropping a hundred or two bombs on any city from the sky alone, in the case of that girl who could split her body into autonomous parts. S...etsuna something or other, I think.

    And Tomura, whom I couldn''t save in time, would have been on the same list if things had gone differently... damn.

    It pisses me off. Every time I think about this guy, it pisses me off that I couldn''t do anything... just like with the Todoroki family. Just like with Eri, Toga, and Twice...

    Yes, there are plenty of broken destinies in this world.

    Now, where was I...

    This is just the first point.

    The second, equally important one is that, by entering U.A. through recommendation, I automatically attract the attention of the world''s powerful. Of course, this will eventually become inevitable, and I don''t intend to hold back at the Sports Festival (which I watched this year with one eye; the Big Three and some other guy who controls thermodynamics give even professionals a run for their money!). But this tournament will take place after the events with the Nomu and the Catastrophes, and by then I''ll already be exposed automatically.

    But if I can somehow influence the fact that the Nomu crippled All Might... ideally even prevent it... wait. I''ve run these thoughts over a hundred times; there''s no need to torture myself unnecessarily.

    The third and less important reason, which I decided to emphasize when talking to my parents, is that I WANTED challenges. I wanted a fight. I wanted a battle, a test of my abilities in a combat environment, essentially my first real fight in this world, even if it''s not against villains but against training, fragile yet sturdy steel robots. In a couple of months after the exam, I''ll have to send villains either to the hospital or straight to the morgue, and I haven''t even stood in a real fight to the death yet.

    Years of preparation... a completely drained, literally painfully killed second childhood. All this will be in vain if I''m simply not capable of striking to kill in battle... so it''s time to see what I''m really worth, Niren Shoda.

    That''s the deal.

    ***

    The next day, we had THE TALK.

    It wasn¡¯t easy.

    However, I managed to convince my parents to withdraw the application, so it never went beyond preliminary agreements, a few phone calls, and some correspondence with a representative of U.A.¡¯s admissions committee.

    First, I convinced my dad, because logic works on him ("...those who get into U.A. by official recommendation aren''t just strong people; they''re literally human weapons of strategic national scale, Dad. I¡¯ve already gone over Yaoyorozu, and then there¡¯s Shoto Todoroki¡­").

    Then I convinced Mom, since she is moved by how beaten and miserable I look during training ("...I¡¯m really grateful to you, honestly, but I want you to understand that I have my own perspective on this¡ªI¡¯ve worked so hard, shed so much sweat, and you¡¯re suggesting I get in not because of my efforts, but because of, essentially, an assessment of the great potential of my quirk, something I was born with...")¡ªwe can¡¯t let all that go to waste, can we?

    Then I had to answer what I wanted for my birthday, but I was already so relaxed after my verbal victory (I''m not good at this, I''m not good at all!) that I almost blurted out "a woman."

    Psychological age and early biological maturation¡ªI wasn¡¯t even fourteen yet, but I¡¯d already surpassed my dad in height!¡ªmade themselves felt more and more often, but I usually didn¡¯t pay attention to such nonsense, being busy with training and surrounded by kids. Once I get in, maybe I should visit a brothel...

    ***

    A week later was Yui''s birthday¡ªDecember nineteenth.

    To be honest, I wasn¡¯t sure what to expect from this event. On the one hand, we talked a lot, debated superhero and non-superhero topics, and ended up becoming quite close, to the point that Yui herself joked that she was my padawan.

    On the other hand, well, she¡¯s a fourteen-year-old girl who, by definition, should consider boys her age to be idiots, and I, biologically, am exactly an idi¡ª I mean, a boy her age.

    And thirdly, it¡¯s Yui. She was never completely cold or unemotional, of course. But perhaps because of a childhood where she seemed unwanted by anyone, she withdrew into herself, became less confident, and thus less inclined to show emotion. But if you lift that upper layer, all those emotions are still there. A defensive reaction, I think. That''s how it was in the version of reality portrayed in the show.

    But after a couple of years of our camaraderie, the dynamics in the school group that made me sweat through debates, successes in training, and hard work, she became much more confident¡ªstarted speaking louder and clearer, holding her posture straight, looking directly ahead. Compulsive habits like fiddling with a matryoshka keychain or crumpling her clothes disappeared.

    However, to my surprise, the "ice queen" image actually strengthened, and Yui expressed emotions even less frequently. But now, it wasn¡¯t a defense mechanism; it was a deliberately chosen tactic of a huntress¡ªand, I must say, this approach worked flawlessly.

    She didn¡¯t treat me this way, though, was still cautious¡ªbut just for now!¡ªbut the poor guys from the parallel classes she brushed off... I even felt uncomfortable because of some interspecies solidarity.

    So, I wasn¡¯t expecting an invitation to a wild party from her¡ªafter all, she only really talks to me and Akari-neko¡ªbut I still tried to be prepared for anything.

    And yet, I wasn¡¯t prepared at all.

    That day, meeting her, as was our habit, early in the morning, I handed her a subscription for a three-month motorcycle driving course. From my experience in my past life, I knew you could learn to ride a bike decently in a month, but for a girl, I chose a better (and more reliable) option.

    Perhaps a gift for a teenage girl is indeed strange, but hey, we¡¯re heroes of a superhero anime, where the whole world is obsessed with this theme! Yui, almost like me, had developed a mindset geared toward career benefit. So, I had no doubt she would like the gift¡ªwe¡¯d discussed many times that her main weakness as a hero was a lack of mobility.

    For the past six months, she had, by the way, been carrying a scooter as a keychain. At first, we thought about buying her a real one and shrinking it with her quirk, but it turned out she couldn¡¯t keep it shrunken for that long, it took too much energy, so we found an almost exact replica of a real one but in miniature. And it really worked when enlarged¡ªwe checked!

    Well, in the future, we¡¯ll save up for an actual motorcycle... she¡¯ll hide it in her pocket, be the coolest girl in U.A., give rides to all sorts of foolish admirers...

    Blushing slightly, Yui solemnly promised:

    "I¡¯ll definitely give you a ride!"

    It was nice, though my first reaction was to laugh, quite unromantically.

    After school, despite the snow, we took our usual walk to the park, also habitually discussing the possibilities of using her quirk.

    We rarely touched on mine¡ªnot that I was against it, although I tried to keep my cards close to my chest, but more because Yui herself was firmly convinced that I knew best without her.

    This time, we discussed the functionality of her future costume, the design and theme of which she had already come up with (unlike me). But she refused to share¡ªit was supposed to be a surprise.

    In the conversation, I emphasized the aspect of protection:

    "...not to mention that you could secure small plates of hard but lightweight material on your thighs, chest, and forearms, and, if necessary, by touching them, enlarge these plates, creating a shield right on your body. A hero¡¯s work is dangerous; criminals often have firearms, and even more often¡ªcombat quirks that are much more dangerous than bullets. Let¡¯s make a list of suitable materials for the plates, considering weight as well..."

    And so on.

    Of course, I was exaggerating a bit, but it was all for Yui''s benefit, to keep her safer. And we shouldn¡¯t forget about the yakuza, either.

    Yui, wrapped up in her jacket, on her part, was more focused on mobility and attack.

    Firstly, she had already started practicing parkour¡ªin her free time using various improvised items, like her staff or a trash can. So far, it wasn¡¯t going great because she lacked precise judgment¡ªenlargement happens quickly, and, say, to jump onto a roof, you need to enlarge the object to roughly the right size¡ªnot too much smaller, not too much bigger... especially not too much bigger, because overly enlarged trash cans break through the walls of these houses.

    Yes, yes, collateral damage, welcome to the club.

    Secondly, she recently came up with a simple, elementary, but no less brilliant idea, which completely slipped my mind: if Kodai can shrink, use as a ranged projectile, and then enlarge objects to, let¡¯s say, throw a barrel or a car at an enemy, why not use a simple... slingshot to increase attack distance?

    I admit, I was stunned when I first heard this. A slingshot, say, built into a glove, or just an elastic band that allows her to fling cars. Ha. Ha-ha. It¡¯s so obvious...

    Niren, how did you miss that? Niren, are you even Nirengeki?

    Yui, flushed from the light frost, was more than pleased with my reaction.

    I suppose the first part of my romantic comedy was a success...

    The conversation naturally died down.

    From the steel-gray sky, rare snowflakes were slowly falling, setting a melancholic mood.

    And yes¡ªas I expected, Yui wasn¡¯t planning any parties.

    But what I didn¡¯t expect was the request that followed from her¡ªafter all, people rarely ask for a birthday gift for themselves... especially after already receiving one... although, this is Yui we¡¯re talking about, remember how our conversation started...

    Stepping slightly ahead and turning decisively, making the edges of her plaid skirt flutter like a superhero''s cape, Yui turned to me with bright eyes¡ªwhere did that shy, stuttering girl go?

    "Niren, I have a request for you, as a friend and as someone I greatly respect. I want you to personally assess my level of training. I hope... I think I¡¯m ready! I¡¯m sure that you, Niren, will be one of the best in U.A., and I... don¡¯t want to lag behind you!"¡ªshe then slightly leaned forward, looking into my eyes. "Would you... mind having a few sparring sessions?"

    "A few?"

    "Well... several?"¡ªshe smiled slightly, nervously.

    Perhaps someone else in my place would have reacted differently. Perhaps even been more right in their actions. Perhaps...

    But what do I care how someone else would have acted in my place? I don¡¯t give a damn about that.

    The only thing that matters is how I act¡ªbecause I am the main character of this story, and this is MY story.

    I grinned broadly in response:

    "I''d be glad to."

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    ... that creepy lady with the obvious head issues in the form of predatory vines...

    Those same crazy xenophobic racists.

 Episode 6. Part IV.

    Thus, my list of activities and training sessions now included sparring with Yui, which, however, quickly transitioned into training and teaching sessions. For her age, Yui was more than good, trying to keep me at a distance with her multi-meter staff, but she was still lacking in speed, and certainly lacking in experience.

    That said, she managed to hit me a couple of times, and let me tell you, meeting a massive log with your body and getting sent flying by its momentum is quite an experience.

    After recovering, calming Yui down, and scratching my head, I found a pair of tonfas¡ªsort of the ancestors of police batons, but made of wood. Blocking Yui¡¯s staff became more fun, and I started considering incorporating a similar element into my future costume.

    And then... the routine set in. No joke, I think I actually started getting the hang of how to teach the youngsters, after all, I had the example of Akira-sensei right in front of me, though I couldn''t angrily whip myself on the sides with a tail:

    "...when you strike with your knee, don¡¯t just lift your leg with force. Step forward and simultaneously lean back, pushing your pelvis forward and turning slightly toward the direction of the strike. This way, you increase the swing and reach of your strike by almost twice as much..."

    Or:

    "...and Yui, you need to learn to change the size of the staff smoothly. You have to train your body and reflexes for this style of fighting¡ªif you enlarge the staff too slowly, you¡¯ll lose the kinetic effect; too quickly, and you risk dislocating your shoulders or fingers. Or just dropping your weapon, like now. Honestly, I¡¯m not even sure if it¡¯s possible to master such a unique fighting style. But... I am confident that if anyone can handle this, it¡¯s you, Yui. Also, it''s too early for you to go to the ground; I¡¯m not in your weight class... Oh, you just wanted to hug me? No-no, let''s keep those hints at bay, I¡¯m a thick-headed brute, you know. If you want a date, hit me with a bouquet, not a stick..."

    "Ha-ha-ha!"

    Time flies when you''re doing what you love.

    ***

    Then came the New Year.

    The Japanese don¡¯t really celebrate Christmas much, plus, as I¡¯ve already mentioned, religion has taken a bit of a back seat these days.

    But New Year¡¯s¡ªoh yes.

    Though, without mandarins, without the chimes and twinkling string lights at every turn, without the salads, and without Christmas movies like "Irony of Fate" or "Home Alone," it''s just not quite the same.

    I¡¯d KILL for some Olivier salad.

    Wait, no, hold on, I¡¯m supposed to be a hero larva...

    Okay, then, I¡¯d just break their legs.

    Unfortunately, Olivier salad isn¡¯t found in Japan, and you can¡¯t make it with the local ingredients¡ªtrust me, I tried (I was three and bored at the time, but it still counts).

    In my past life, I¡¯d heard a rather funny opinion that anyone transported to an anime world must feed every anime girl a bowl of something homemade from their national cuisine. And, of course, anime girls would fall for it instantly.

    For example, an American might try to serve up Chicago-style pizza or clam chowder. I had a problem here¡ªno ingredients. A Russian-speaking person transported to this world might offer a bowl of homemade borscht... but I had a problem here, alas¡ªI don¡¯t like borscht, nor do I know how to cook it. A Chinese guy might try to serve Peking Duck. I had a problem here as well¡ªmy mom would probably have a heart attack if anyone besides her tried to mess with her oven.

    But thoughts of Olivier salad, some spicy bratwurst, or just fries and a hamburger, or herring under a fur coat, or at least a crab stick salad... Damn, it''s even hard to find decent potatoes here.

    Continuing the metaphor, if an Italian guy got isekai-ed, he¡¯d inevitably insist on feeding everyone spaghetti carbonara or tiramisu. Or a Frenchman, who might go for escargot or a fine ratatouille. A Mexican might bring out a tray of tacos or tamales...

    Great. Now I''m hungry. And angry!

    But what¡¯s not there, isn¡¯t there. No point in dwelling on the sad stuff.

    And more than that, I just don''t have any spare time for any of those, just daydreaming a bit.

    Also, I¡¯ve been on a strict diet for more than... seven years, maybe?..

    Training, after training, after training, after studying, after training Yui, after training...

    Did I choose the wrong pill? Blue or red?

    ... I wonder, what would a Japanese-speaking isekai traveler feed cat girls? Sashimi? Miso? Meh.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ***

    Instead of the classic Christmas trees, in the anime homeland, they put up these ridiculous green brooms with decorations. Also, gifts are rarely given. And there are no holidays. And my passion mixed with nostalgia for this holiday isn¡¯t shared by anyone. At best, people are puzzled.

    And yet...

    Jumping out into the street early in the morning, I eagerly inhaled the frosty air.

    And yet, this is my favorite holiday, and I don''t care that I¡¯m the only one who feels this way here!

    Putting on a pair of earphones playing a synthwave version of "Jingle Bells," I pulled a red Christmas hat with a pom-pom over my head, laced up my spiked running shoes, and set off for a run.

    Smiling.

    ***

    About ten minutes into my run, Yui joined me.

    Silently.

    But that didn¡¯t matter; the main thing was that I clearly understood that she understood that this was important to me! And, I think she also realized that I realized that she...

    Basically, who knew that the way to a man''s heart was through his legs?!

    ... that day, I fried up some "student-style" potatoes, went to the movies, and, for the first time in many years, played some shooter game on the computer.

    ... Yui beat me.

    Turned out to be a good New Year.

    ***

    Back to the routine, back to the routine¡ªoh, exams, oh, a bruise, sliding block, sweep, hold...

    Unlike New Year¡¯s, I never liked my birthday. For obvious reasons of being reborn. Maybe I should be happy about a second chance and all that, but if it were up to me, I¡¯d celebrate just any random day in the middle of autumn.

    Still, time goes on, and humans, those pesky creatures, get used to everything.

    So, on February second, I discovered with cheerful surprise, like the sharp-eyed Indian Chief, that my biological body was now fully fourteen years old.

    I made this discovery not in solitude, as I was dragged off to a bowling alley, and I was congratulated not just by my parents and Yui but even Akari and Mashirao! Now, I didn¡¯t expect that from the latter, it was a pleasant surprise! Although, he stayed true to himself and gave me a kimono that differed from the one I gave him earlier only in color. Well, that¡¯s Mashirao Ojiro, a guy with a real Imagination.

    Yui gave me a chess set (probably hoping to win at least once) and a set of hand wraps for bandaging my hands¡ªthank her for that. Despite my hardened knuckles, I regularly tore my hands up, and the wraps frayed within a week¡ªdue to the constant use of my Quirk and some parasitic loss of my ¡°impulses.¡±

    Akari, the little devil, gifted me... a maid cosplay costume. With cat ears.

    My laughter made the windows shake.

    As for my parents, they skipped surprises this time and presented a very practical gift¡ªa professional sketchbook for hero costume designs and drawings. I draw like a chicken¡ªnot just with its foot, but with its beak¡ªyet the sketchbook came with a catalog listing all (and in detail!) the costumes of all the officially registered top one thousand heroes in Japan. So, I started thinking.

    I already had some ideas for my costume, of course. What¡¯s my main weakness?

    ¡°Flesh is weak,¡± yeah.

    So, first and foremost, I need armor. Compact, flexible, non-restrictive, probably without a helmet, as I¡¯m guaranteed dead if anything blocks my view. And with good padding to absorb vibrations, because I don¡¯t want to turn into pat¨¦ in a tin can.

    Frankly, I couldn¡¯t come up with anything better than those elbow-length gloves and high boots that Midoriya will get in the future. Except I¡¯d add reinforced modifications to the gloves on the forearms¡ªsomething like tonfas or Batman¡¯s blades, whatever you prefer, to block blows from time to time.

    And maybe some brass knuckles or just spikes on the gloves to make punching faces really effective.

    And generally, I could use a weapon. A sort of last resort. A knife or a baton isn¡¯t necessary, and firearms are as rare in Japan as finding daylight in a coal mine, plus I have no skill with them, but something ranged, non-specific... maybe bolas or just steel balls... or even rubber ones, so as not to send criminals to the afterlife without some proper suffering first...

    But no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn¡¯t figure anything out. In the end, everything around me is my weapon against villains. Why carry projectiles when any brick would suffice? Or the villain himself.

    So I think there¡¯s no need...

    As for the color of the costume, I had no other options but dark dark gray, inconspicuous in the shadows, against the backdrop of asphalt and concrete buildings. There¡¯s a common belief that deep black is needed for stealth, but gray is actually much better for that¡ªTerry Pratchett even joked about it when mocking the Assassin¡¯s Guild.

    Though wait, I¡¯m not an assassin. I¡¯m a hero. And UA would surely reject such a ¡°non-heroic¡± option at the application stage.

    But wearing a bright spandex suit... which makes you a perfect target... clearly stating that you¡¯re a hero... ugh.

    The greatest compromise I could make with my rationality and desire to live to old age would be to add some bright lines on a dark base. I think I could highlight the unusual color of my eyes... plus, it would look stylish.

    And a mask with a respirator would also be cool. I want to be like Sub-Zero.

    And yes, by the way, I crushed them all in bowling.

    Of course, I play incredibly well (sure, sure, keep telling that story), but the most important thing¡ªI can cheat with my Quirk, adjusting the ball¡¯s direction, scoring strike after strike! I¡¯m awesome!

    ... Yui didn¡¯t choose bowling thinking of that, did she? I¡¯m not that easy to read, right? Oh no¡­

    ***

    My birthday blinked one last time, waved its bright tail like a carp, and disappeared into the waves of routine, while I gritted my teeth and continued to grind and perfect my body, my combat skills, and my Quirk. Just a little longer. In literally a year, I¡¯ll finally find out if it was all worth it... in just a year, I¡¯ll already be there... in a year, I¡¯ll almost be a superhero... in a year...

    But life, even one as quirky as ours, doesn¡¯t like to go without surprises.

    Because...

    In the spring, I realized I was being watched.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    Jumping out into the street early in the morning, I eagerly inhaled the frosty air...

    <u>Author''s Note:</u>

    So this chapter is shorter than usual, and it won''t happen in the future.

    And the reason is this: guys, it''s been exactly three weeks since I started posting on ScribbleHub, Webnovel, Fanfiction, Quotev, AO3, and, of course, Royal Road.

    But NOW, now we need to have a talk, you and I¡ªbecause I''m in desperate need of feedback!

    What do you think of the book?

    What are you hoping to see? Where do you think the plot is going?

    Is my writing good? Do you see any mistakes?

    Do you have any suggestions on how to improve your engagement with the story?

    How is it even possible for Niren to get closer to All Might''s... well, might?

    Who is your waifu in the MHA universe? Who do you think he''ll end up with?

    What other fandoms do you like besides this one? What second fic would you like me to write?

    Give me some responses, dear readers, I''m dying without this! Give it to me! Give Me MoRe! GIVE MEEE!!1

 Episode 7. "Ripple Effects." Part I.

    It all started when I simply felt someone¡¯s gaze.

    You know how in second-rate action movies, the main characters, hiding from villains, catch someone¡¯s attention... from a car with tinted windows, for example, across the road, or they spot some weirdo in sunglasses reflected in a storefront, or someone¡¯s following them for several blocks as if they¡¯re glued, or that person is hiding behind a newspaper in a cafe...

    In short, when tough guys conduct surveillance as subtly as if it were being done by kids.

    That¡¯s how I caught someone¡¯s gaze on my back.

    Apparently, this feeling arises due to changes in bioelectric currents¡ªbut I don¡¯t really get that stuff at all. I just know that people can really sense such things, just like other animals.

    Alright. I caught the gaze...

    But there was no tough guy nearby that I could spot in an instant.

    And then it happened again.

    And again...

    When you get that "feeling of being watched" during breaks or even in class at school, it''s not that surprising. After all, with my "lectures" and behavior, I¡¯ve earned a reputation as the local miniature attraction... oh, and also for being the one guy who wasn¡¯t afraid to talk to the ¡°Snow Queen¡± of this middle school.

    Yes, yes, that very Yui Kodai in all her snowy splendor of a "kuudere," the Japanese term for the anime archetype of a cold and unapproachable girl.

    Yes, yes, Yui wasn''t wasting any time.

    The Japanese, in general, love to give such grandiose nicknames to everyone, even the coolest janitors, cooks, and kindergarteners. Though, I think this is more of an eastern cultural trait in general.

    I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if some infatuated schoolgirls secretly call me the "Aquamarine Prince" or something...

    ¨C Pffhaha¡­

    At that moment, I burst into uncontrollable laughter, which I barely managed to suppress, earning a couple of sideways glances from the teacher and the class monitor. What are you looking at? Is it my fault that if I don¡¯t want to attract the attention of every powerful person around¡ªat least not prematurely¡ªI¡¯m forced to sit here with you?

    Alright... I got distracted again; this is becoming a tradition.

    It happens quite often to me lately, though not as much as it did before Yui and Mashirao. I guess it''s one of the consequences of being almost completely socially isolated for a... long time. You don''t talk much, but you reflect frequently. Stew in your thoughts as much as needed. And if you''re a curious person, you end up contemplating a lot of things whenever it¡¯s convenient...

    Probably need to deal with it. Definitely a bad tradition for a fighter.

    ... there¡¯s not much to laugh about here.

    Speaking of attracting attention: in general, attention at school didn¡¯t surprise or bother me. But if you feel the same gaze on the way home from school... or on your way to practice... or, excuse me, in the boys'' restroom at school?

    Maybe someone else in my place would have brushed it off... maybe.

    But in my case, there was the paranoia, lovingly nurtured for almost a decade and a half, so I immediately assumed the worst.

    A government observer? From U.A.? From that obscure government agency that Hawks was subordinate to? Or, worst of all, someone from All For One?

    Where did I slip up? How did I reveal my potential danger and maybe even my good abilities too early?

    No, that¡¯s not the right thought. What¡¯s done is done; you can¡¯t unspill spilled milk back into the glass. The right question is: what to do?

    Expose the surveillance, even if it leads to an open conflict?

    No, bad option. Very bad. I might be able to fend off a trained fighter if I strike first, but there are always, constantly, a bunch of people around me who would definitely get hurt. Even when I¡¯m traveling from one location to another, the route passes through crowded places.

    Am I ready to risk the lives of innocent people?

    No.

    Lure them to a prepared, deserted spot? If my observer has a brain, they¡¯ll immediately realize something¡¯s off, that something doesn¡¯t fit my usual routine. Again, I can¡¯t be sure how many people are actually watching me. Maybe they already know all the places I visit, and a sudden change in my usual actions might provoke... uh... ¡°preventive measures¡± on their part. Yep, with a fatal outcome for me.

    ...no. The first thing to do is make sure the surveillance is real. Preferably, without attracting attention.

    Over the next two days, I spent as much time as possible discreetly studying my surroundings, but I didn¡¯t spot any suspicious men or vans. No results.

    Okay, time to admit that in this world, based on movies from the past world, I won''t detect any surveillance. In this world, there are definitely people capable of making themselves invisible. Therefore, I won¡¯t detect them so easily.

    Lure them out? And then attack from a safe distance, using my markers? Not fatally, but enough to make them reveal themselves? Like... loitering in a spot, like a park bench, and leaving... I don¡¯t know... a note?

    Well, as a backup plan... a very backup one. I highly doubt my ability to pull off such a performance.

    I answered some question from the teacher in passing¡ªone of those who never gave up trying to catch me being inattentive¡ªand thoughtfully stared out the window, resting my chin on my hand.

    Something flickered outside the window.

    I frowned.

    If I think a little more¡­ it seems I¡¯m still displaying inertia in my thinking: invisibility isn¡¯t the only possibility. Besides that, there are tons, dozens, hundreds of quirks that allow for flying, shrinking, passing through matter, seeing from afar, through walls, and hundreds more examples of how I could be watched from unpredictable angles and in unexpected ways.

    Realizing this, I stopped looking for spies.

    And switched to searching for anything strange, unnoticed, small, and simply in a place where it shouldn¡¯t be. Like, under the ceiling in a classroom, or in the treetop outside, or in the corner of a window just floating in mid-air...

    And quite soon¡ªI found it.

    And when I pieced the facts together, recognized the quirk of this cunning observer thanks to my "foreknowledge," and marveled at the coincidence, I was able to breathe a sigh of relief... though not immediately, not immediately at all¡ªbecause this character, at that very moment, looked nothing like they did in the anime.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    And I only identified them after some rather nervous time had passed.

    In short, I was being watched by... hmm. I was being watched by various parts, uh, of a body.

    In turns.

    Yes, even for this strange world, that¡¯s strange.

    Sometimes, I was being watched by an eye.

    Or two. From different perspectives.

    Sometimes¡ªan ear...

    And sometimes there was something completely strange nearby, like a foot in a shoe, hanging in the air under the ceiling. Or a hand stuck to the windowpane, the whole palm pressing against it, apparently trying to pick up vibrations from sound waves caused by chatting students. Yes? No? I don¡¯t understand...

    Or maybe it¡¯s somehow scanning the surrounding space? Without some such aspect of the quirk, such an ability¡ªto levitate separate body parts that retain sensitivity and motor skills¡ªwould probably be impossible...

    But I have a strong feeling that I¡¯m stretching the truth. She can¡¯t be doing this just like that, right? Right?..

    Alright, to be fair, I must note that all this was done discreetly and, for an enthusiast of our and Yui¡¯s age, quite cleverly. Making full use of the environment and "blending in" with the crowd during the hustle of school breaks or group sparring sessions in the dojo.

    Yes, by the way, group sessions.

    Akira-sensei has warmed up to me lately, and, in addition to occasional advice on maintaining distance and proper tactics, has started conducting some ¡°group brawls¡±¡ªwall-to-wall battles, where he¡¯d throw nearly all his numerous nephews and nieces, well, those who know how to fight, against me and Mashirao.

    It was fun, sweaty, and furry, and we often won. Although sometimes we were simply overpowered by numbers and brought down with grapples, and a couple of times, I got hit in the back with a tail, leading to automatic disqualification. Friendly fire, so to speak.

    And a few times, during the general melee, I was secretly groped by some of the attractive, mane-haired girls who were older. And to be honest, I didn¡¯t hold back either.

    Just "shh!", not a word to Akira!

    ...actually, these brawls were largely a manifestation of trust¡ªif I were a bit clumsier in handling my still unnamed quirk, such a fun fight would quickly turn into a display of bloody carnage.

    But¡ªwe managed, and I acted more confidently and accurately. The guy clearly sensed with his experienced teacher¡¯s nose that I was holding back and afraid of accidentally hurting those around me. And when he realized it was safe to let loose¡ªmuch sooner than I did!¡ªhe put me in the ring with real live opponents, ordinary people, not super-strong monsters. And began to weed out this fear, which in the future could cost me my life.

    Sensei, in a word.

    And my debt to both Ojiro was only growing: where else would I have, among other things, honed combat coordination with a fairly strong ally against pretty smart opponents? Before the academy, anyway.

    ...but never mind, we were talking about my observer.

    When I detected the quirk and figured out that I was being watched by a lone amateur, not a government agent or a criminal working for All For One, I began to suspect a certain male student from a hero academy. But not from U.A., another one, who could do something disgusting called a ¡°meat ball¡±¡ªit¡¯s been years, and I still remember the name, such an unpleasant image it formed. Something like flesh manipulation, or something like that.

    Why him and not, for example, a girl from Class ¡°B¡± of U.A. who could divide herself into controllable body parts? Well, because she was, as far as I remember, a brunette. But the person watching me had very blond hair. Probably even well-groomed and beautiful, but I only caught a glimpse of it, and even then through the bushes as I was walking from school.

    Then, a couple of days later, looking out of the classroom window, I caught sight of a shadow half-materialized up to the waist¡ªon the playground right under the window. It seemed to be floating in the air right above me, hiding from retaliation, hehe.

    The hair fluttering in the wind was long¡­

    And the shadow and wind clearly outlined the figure (well, the part of it that was present) of the spy, leaving little to the imagination.

    ...yep, a girl.

    By this point, I had completely stopped being nervous, as I understood: no serious person would reveal themselves so shamelessly.

    So who is it? That girl from Class ¡°B¡± who got in on recommendation? But she¡¯s a brunette. And I don¡¯t remember anyone with anything even close to this. Except for maybe Hawks, at a stretch. Well, who knows, maybe she dyed her hair.

    But it¡¯s not like there aren¡¯t other incredible quirks in this world that could surprise me like this? And it feels like a bit too much of a coincidence¡­

    However, if we use Occam¡¯s razor¡­

    Well then...

    Well then I just ran out of patience. Apparently, it got cut on the razor.

    And it happened like this: in that same school that I was sick of, where not only my classmates but even the teachers tried not to bother me (and all it took was pointing out their mistakes a couple of times in THEIR explanations of the material), there was a break. And during the break, I went to take a leak. Naturally, alone.

    So, here I am, standing at the nearest urinal, whipping out my, excuse me, Orochimaru, and then¡­

    Hearing some rustling, I reflexively turned my head and caught, out of the corner of my eye, a shadow! A very well-formed silhouette shadow hanging boldly in the air at the level of the third, damn, floor!

    Bathroom, damn, romance.

    That¡¯s when I snapped.

    But, thanks to many years of martial arts training, I had developed at least some self-control, and partly absorbed their philosophy, so I didn¡¯t do anything blatantly crazy or rush headlong.

    No, I calmly put Orochimaru back in Konoha, since I was standing with my back to the window and no one could have seen anything anyway, washed my hands, still calmly, and only then, taking a sharp step to the window and flinging it open, I barked¡ªalmost right into the face of the unsuccessful stalker:

    "Hey, stalker, know your place!"

    I admit, the thought that the person might forget their quirk in surprise and fall to the pavement below crossed my mind only afterward.

    But¡ªit worked out.

    And as a result, "Her Arrival" took place... in what turned out to be my previously very calm and balanced life.

    ***

    <u> </u>

    First, there was: "Oops."

    Then there was the exasperating: "Phew... you really scared me!"

    Next came: "Oh no, no-no-no, not like this, it¡¯s all wrong!"

    And finally, a spectacular: "Damn, crap, how did I mess up, damn, sorry, I¡¯ll be right back, don''t go anywhere, I¡¯m coming ba-a-ack...," fading away into the distance as its owner quickly dashed off somewhere right through the air.

    I admit, I had to look for my jaw on the tiled floor.

    By the time I washed it off and put it back in place, this¡­ thing returned, and I got a chance to look her over at least.

    First of all, she was quite a pretty girl.

    Though, her makeup was a bit too aggressive.

    More or less my age, in a school uniform, but from a different school.

    A bit, I would say, provocatively dressed, with a loose shirt, a mid-length plaid skirt that was interestingly fluttering in the wind, a red tie, bright makeup, and lots of bracelets and similar stuff. Hoop earrings. A blue blazer, casually tied around her waist, completed the look.

    And she was a blonde, yeah.

    As someone who¡¯s been living in Japan for nearly fifteen years, I started to have vague suspicions about why I didn¡¯t recognize her right away.

    If it is her.

    Oh¡­ and this time, the guest seemed to have all her limbs and body parts intact.

    And she was nonchalantly floating in the air, too.

    Actually, at that very moment, the girl-stalker lightly hopped over the windowsill, stood in front of me on the dull tiles, and, bursting with cheerfulness and a kind of charismatic recklessness, extended her hand in the universal gesture of introduction:

    "Hi, Niren-kun, my name is Setsuna Tokage, let¡¯s be friends!"

    Ah, so it¡¯s her, after all...

    And she started off right away with my name.

    Which, I remind you, is extremely uncharacteristic for Japan and is usually perceived either as rudeness or excessive familiarity. In my entire life here, I¡¯ve dealt with only one person who did this. Yes, you guessed it¡ªwith myself.

    To fully convey the explosive, self-assured energy of this girl, all that was missing at the end of her escapade was a shout of "I will become Hokage!"

    I mean, ¡°Tokage.¡±

    Ha.

    It¡¯s even strange: this is already the third anime joke in less than half an hour. Have I really absorbed the country¡¯s cultural code?..

    Be that as it may, Setsuna¡¯s grand entrance was poorly matched with her cheeks, red from recent embarrassment, her eyes desperately pleading with me to forget the last five minutes (and she doesn¡¯t even know I spotted her two weeks ago!), my overall shock at the situation, and most importantly, the location.

    Because we were still in the boys'' restroom.

    In a school that was foreign to her.

    With a cheerful sound, my palm met my forehead, and I honestly admit, during the subsequent conversations of that day, I seriously considered whether to enhance the impact with my quirk. You know, just to get some rest...

    Naturally, I was late for class.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    An estimated appearance of Setsuna at the time of her meeting with Niren (yes, this is from a completely different anime, but I made some small edits to her look to match¡ªsharpened teeth, green eyes, a red tie, and some other stuff) and at the same time¡ªa good example of a attractive Gyaru.

    And the reason for her appearance is simple¡ªin one interview, the manga author, Kohei Horikoshi, stated that Setsuna Tokage was a gyaru before she started at the Academy.

    Which, if you think about it, raises a loooot of questions. Gyaru is a relatively recent trend in Japan, started only about fifty years ago and peaked in its popularity in the 1990s, and if it has survived in the same format in a Japan two hundred years into the future, populated by a whole lot of people who don''t need to emphasize their appearance thanks to quirks...

    ???

 Episode 7. Part II.

    Having agreed to hear Setsuna Tokage''s explanation for her stalker-like behavior after classes¡ªI''m sure, after these spy games, finding me won''t be hard for her¡ªand pushing the unruly girl out of the third-floor window (Kami-sama, am I really a hero?), I dashed off to class.

    The remaining classes went by as usual. Well, except for the awkward moment with Yui, who sniffed around and softly announced that I smelled like women''s perfume (I almost disrupted the class with my laughter).

    And so, I had time to think.

    After all, I had taken a pause in communication partly for this reason.

    And skipping classes... well, who would care? Me, who only needs perfect grades out of sheer competitive interest? My parents, who know perfectly well that I could almost teach the school curriculum myself?

    Or the U.A. Academy, where the practical exam involving beating up metal villain faces is more important than academic knowledge? Which, logically, makes sense, since the vast majority of heroes work with their hands. Except for pure strategists like Nighteye and the like.

    In short, no, I needed to think about Setsuna.

    There were no reasons to consider this world any different from the one I knew from the anime.

    Therefore, I should focus on the story I already know.

    I vaguely remember Setsuna''s character. I only know that, firstly, she had an amazing multifunctional quirk. Secondly, despite this quirk, she didn''t make any impact at the sports festival, during the villains'' attack on that mountain, or even during the joint training. And thirdly, she wasn''t a particularly bright personality.

    And she was also a brunette, yes.

    Well... if something has a quirk like Setsuna''s, shares general traits like age and appearance with Setsuna, and calls itself "Setsuna," then it''s highly likely to actually be Setsuna. Of course, I''ll need to observe her just in case, but... the question is settled; let''s close this topic. Otherwise, I might end up "Setsuna''d" myself.

    In that case, there must be objective reasons why she didn''t achieve anything at the same festival and why she looks and behaves differently from the anime... I don''t like calling that version of events just "anime." It doesn''t capture the scale. Let''s call it... "World A"?

    And my original world will be "World B."

    Oh well, whatever, let it be.

    So, why is she a blonde¡ªI already figured that out.

    She''s dyed.

    And why does she dye her hair?

    Because she belongs to one of the popular Japanese youth subcultures called "gyaru."

    One of the very old subcultures, by the way, because this movement started several hundred years ago and already existed in my... um, in World B.

    This subculture emerged as a natural reaction of the youth to Japan''s post-war political and cultural orientation toward the West. Concepts of beauty were changing along with them, albeit not universally. Partly this was reflected in fashion, partly in the appearance of anime characters, and partly in such subcultural movements.

    What exactly is "gyaru"? Girls, and it is indeed a female movement (there are also guys, gyaru-o, but they are few) imitate Western fashion, or rather, how they perceive it. They massively dye their hair blonde, highlight it, or wear wigs (it''s unlikely to be Setsuna''s option considering her quirk), wear loose blouses and plaid skirts like in those American college comedies (or Brazzers videos, but let''s not talk about that).

    It''s hard not to know about gyaru if you live in a big city in Japan. Paradoxically, given the general tolerance of contemporary society and acceptance of quirks, the attitude towards them among people... isn''t that great.

    It''s not hard to explain: gyaru girls look like, um, people with somewhat lowered social responsibility. They look accessible, that''s it.

    Sometimes, to be honest, some girls actually look quite good in such an image... especially if they don''t overdo it, and if the girl herself is naturally pretty. However, in most cases, they turn out to be, well... rather unappealing. Or provocative.

    For Setsuna, it suited her, but I think this was more due to her natural appearance.

    But, besides all that, dyed blonde hair among Japanese people is traditionally associated with hooligan, rude, and tsundere behavior.

    Based on all this, one might assume that Setsuna Tokage is, to some extent, an outcast. Maybe she only socializes with a limited group of people, or maybe she''s a complete loner.

    And also¡ªa fifteen-year-old teenager who, being in a transitional period, is prone to going against social norms and simply shocking people.

    To some extent, this explains why she burst into the men''s restroom with a friendship proposal.

    To some extent.

    Hmm...

    ... and, if we get into it, even anime itself emerged as an attempt to adapt the principles by which a certain well-known Disney started making its cartoons, like Bambi or Snow White, back in the day.

    A more than successful attempt, I must say.

    And if we think further, even the anime world of "My Hero Academia"... I mean, the reality of World A is, to a large extent, the same projection of all sorts of American superhero comics onto Japanese culture and anime tropes as such... wait, stop, stop!

    I shouldn''t think about this! I shouldn''t think about the fact that I''m living in a sort of cultural phenomenon cubed... stop, that''s enough!

    Stop, don''t think about the white elephant.

    Or else I''ll end up giving myself an existential crisis right here.

    In short, the reason she''s a blonde instead of a brunette is clear. I probably didn''t need to spend so much time discussing this with myself, but hey, the time lost in lessons won''t waste itself!

    The second, and far more important point, is why she didn''t show herself in World A at all?

    Considering these two ridiculous weeks and, forgive me, Kami-sama, the "toilet scene," the colossal potential of her abilities was evident.

    She can fly... and fast. She can be in different places at once. She can control her parts entirely independently. She can somehow scan the area and evaluate the position of her parts relative to each other. In World A, there was supposedly some mention of a regeneration ability, which, in my opinion, is already a bit much.

    Even so, it''s too overpowered.

    So, how come she never showed... won''t show herself in a fight? Well, alright, not in a fight, but at least in the race at the festival? With her power, she should have automatically secured first place...

    But, again, I don''t know her limitations. What if she can''t stay in the air for long?

    ... but she just jumped in and out of the window like a gazelle.

    So, she can probably stay up for quite a while.

    Then, the problem must be something else. What?

    A physical injury? I don''t remember any events involving Class "B" that could have led to such an outcome. And given her abilities, it''s highly unlikely that an injury to a single part of her body would hinder her much.

    Psychological?

    Nah, why would she...

    I absentmindedly scratched my eyebrow and suddenly froze. My own eyebrow. With my own hand.

    Like, does she have some kind of cognitive dissonance over which of her parts is truly her? That¡¯s a straight road to schizophrenia, and there was another character in World A with the same problem...

    I shook my head.

    No, nonsense. Complete nonsense. Even if she did have some brain glitch like that, her quirk factor wouldn''t let it manifest.

    Although it worked for Twice...

    Ah, still no. That''s a complete stretch.

    There''s something else...

    I blinked. "My own eyebrow, my own hand"¡ªso why not recall my own life? Yeah, in World B.

    And in that reality, I had repeatedly observed from the sidelines, and even partly experienced for myself, such an interesting thing as the "village straight-A student syndrome." The name is mine, I had to call it something, but I don''t claim originality.

    The essence of it is that kids with abilities often grow up in environments that don''t match their talents at all. As a result, they get used to getting through challenging academic situations solely on their natural gifts, becoming lazy, careless, and overconfident.

    They get used to everything being easy and to being, in a way, the elite.

    Then, (dramatic music), such a "village straight-A student" enters, say, a metropolitan university, and life quickly humbles them: they suddenly realize that everyone here is just as capable as they are. But at the same time, many of them know how to work, and others are far more capable and talented.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    And in the end... all that used to come easily turns into a trial. Into a battle. Into a rivalry.

    Not to mention that the difficulty of the academic material itself often increases significantly.

    Some adapt and manage to adjust, get used to it, and reclaim their positions.

    And some are broken by it.

    As I know from the future/past, studying at U.A. will be quite challenging, and there are tons of truly capable, strong, and smart kids there.

    And Tokage, on top of that, will enter the Academy without exams, as one of the talents recommended.

    So, there''s a double pressure on her right from the start.

    That''s it.

    And now, if we combine this hypothesis with Setsuna''s social image...

    "Niren, are you coming?" my teacher asked in Yui''s voice.

    Stop.

    I blinked, lifted my head, and looked around the classroom with a blurry gaze, where the lesson had already ended. Ended so much that there were almost no people left in the room.

    Wow, I was deep in thought. Completely lost in reality, thinking about... about whom, exactly?

    About some girl I don''t even know.

    Yeah. This Setsuna is not a superheroine, but some kind of super heroin.

    I rubbed my face with my hands, yawned, and slid off the chair, making a show of groaning and holding my back.

    "Coming, coming, granddaughter. Wait for your old man..."

    ***

    Anyway, after sorting all the information in my head, I more or less understood both the situation and the logic behind the actions of the future heroine.

    The one thing I didn''t get: why did she contact me specifically?

    Or rather, not quite.

    HOW did she figure out she could reach out to me? How did she know?

    Her answer is important because there might be a leak of information somewhere that I hadn''t considered, and which could be exploited by All for... or some other nasty piece of work.

    ...so when, ten minutes later, Yui and I ran into the aforementioned Setsuna right on the school steps, I wasn''t even surprised.

    Yui... well, hell if I know whether my friend, the Snow Queen, was surprised or not. Kodai is getting better at controlling her emotions, and she definitely can put two and two together.

    "Oh, there you are!" exclaimed the "currently" blonde, hopping off the railing and showing no sign of surprise, annoyance, or embarrassment that I wasn''t alone.

    ...because, obviously, she already knew that we are always together.

    "Hello, Tokage-san," I nodded. And, without pausing, I bluntly asked. "Before you explain why all this happened and what logic you were following, could you answer one question: why me specifically?"

    "H-How did you..."

    "Why me, Tokage-san? It''s really important."

    She hesitated, her gaze flickering between me and Kodai.

    "Um... okay, but... what about her..."

    "She''s a friend," I answered without so much as raising an eyebrow.

    "A vassal," Yui added in her signature, calm "winter" voice.

    Two "kuderes," I swear.

    No, this won''t do; it''s time to ease the tension.

    "Nothing of the sort," I retorted in a bored tone. "Someone''s just read too many novels about feudal Japan."

    "As Niren Shoda-dono wishes," Kodai responded serenely, bowing with her hands folded, looking every bit like the perfect Japanese wife and all that.

    If you don''t know the context, it seems like a super-polite continuation of the joke.

    If you do know the context, both historical and linguistic, it''s obvious she used one of the oldest honorific suffixes, "-dono," written as µî or ¤É¤Î, a near-archaic term that used to be used to address wealthy, well-off, plump gentlemen.

    Literally, "possessors of large buttocks."

    In other words, she had just very politely and elegantly called me "an ass." Or "fat," depending on your preference.

    ...I love this girl.

    Smiling and giving Yui a finger (and yes, I''m an intellectual too, I didn''t specify which one!), I turned to Setsuna, who seemed to be holding her breath as she watched us.

    Well, yeah, "celebrities" up close¡ªthey do that.

    "So? Why me?"

    ***

    And the mystery unraveled in the simplest way possible.

    It turns out Setsuna¡¯s... drumroll... mother worked in the admissions committee''s secretariat at U.A. More precisely, in the very part that deals with admitting students through recommendations.

    Do you see? I had imagined all sorts of things, wound myself up, but in reality, it was just that this gyaru''s mom looked into the documents and saw that one of the candidates for the preliminary recommendation stage¡ªa straight-A student with a strong quirk who was recommended to U.A. by both his parents and teachers, no less¡ªlived and studied less than a kilometer from her school.

    That''s how it was.

    ...still, this doesn''t change the fact that anyone else could have spied this information¡ªfirst seen it, then leaked it to a three-hundred-year-old blind fool who''s just itching to plunge the entire social structure of humanity into chaos.

    Oh well, whatever, I¡¯ve been as secretive as possible and did everything I could not to get exposed prematurely. What¡¯s the point in worrying now¡ªless than a year remains until the U.A. entrance exams anyway.

    Alright, back to the dialogue... although it''s more of a monologue.

    ***

    "...well, and I, um, decided to find you and have a chat! After all, we''ll soon be studying together, and friends, well... never hurt, right? And... I found you! Or rather, not quite, I was sitting in class, just sitting, and I got bored, so I decided to search during class, found your school''s address on Google Maps, and sent part of me there..."

    "Part of you?"

    "...yup! And it wasn''t that simple, I had to fly far, and it was hard to gather information, and I had to search a bunch of classes, I had never worked over such large areas before!" Setsuna spread her arms wide, demonstrating how large these areas were. She did this using her quirk¡ª"Self-Amputation," as I now knew¡ªliterally splitting each arm into five or six parts that lined up in the air. The areas she searched must have been enormous. "¡­anyway, not as easy as I thought. But I still managed, haha! I always handle such difficulties!" At these words, Tokage reassembled herself, straightened up proudly, and flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder.

    Yui and I calmly walked around her, each on our own side.

    "Hey! You could at least ask how I was searching! Hey! Come on!"

    We were talking, or rather, Setsuna was talking on the move¡ªas the three of us walked towards the training hall that Yui and I used. Right now, we had a joint training session on our schedule, so we could afford to be a little late.

    It¡¯s worth noting that Yui was making rapid progress. The sensations when, right in the heat of battle, one of the tonfas becomes too big and heavy to hold and falls on your foot¡­ can only be topped by the sensations when your pants fall down because they''ve become too big.

    And she had finally learned to cancel her quirk without making the canceling gesture with both hands. For now, she still needed one hand, but I had no doubt she would soon get rid of this crutch too.

    Yes. Oh, Setsuna unfroze.

    "¡­fine, whatever. So, I finally found you, and... and...," at this point, the girl, who had caught up with us, blushed and froze, seemingly remembering how our communication had started, "and decided, phew, well, to observe. In case I''d be an extra in your company¡­ although, how could a beauty like me be an extra in any company?! Silly me. Well¡­ then in case you''d turn out to be some kind of weirdo..."

    Yui Kodai, with a very serious look, nodded enthusiastically at the last phrase while maintaining a completely impassive expression. I felt a swell of pride for my corrupting influence, honestly.

    Scratching my eyebrow, I replied:

    "I can understand all that, and I even find it quite logical."

    Setsuna perked up, flashing a wide grin and putting her hands behind her head.

    "But what I can''t understand is why you were observing...¡± - hmm, I¡¯m not sure if anyone else noticed her. Yui, for example. And I might not have noticed her right away either.

    Maybe I shouldn''t embarrass her too much in front of another girl...

    I vividly recalled the scene in the bathroom.

    No.

    Definitely should.

    "...for more than two weeks?"

    Setsuna let out a muffled squeak and turned beet red, finally hiding her face behind her hands.

    From behind her, Yui made big, scary eyes and silently mouthed, "Two weeks?!" to which I simply shrugged in a way that conveyed confusion, like an international kaomoji.

    So, while I was performing a " ¡¥\_(¥Ä)_/¡¥," and Setsuna looked like "(¡¹£¾£¼)¡¹," we reached our hall. Not just any hall, by the way¡ªit was a regular gym with sports equipment that we rented for a few hours a couple of days a week.

    Yui immediately, without entering, occupied the bench by the entrance and strategically armed herself with a book, this time¡­ wow. ¡°Kusarigama-jitsu: Myth or Reality?¡±

    Well, well, she''s up to something again.

    Suppressing the urge to whistle, I leaned against the wall, watching the clouds and giving the gyaru girl time to collect herself.

    However, it didn''t take her long. Still blushing, almost with tears in her eyes, Tokage stood at attention in front of me and resolutely blurted out:

    "Yes, maybe I''m a stalker! S-so embarrassing! I apologize! It happened accidentally! Won''t happen again!"

    A couple of random passersby turned around with wide eyes, Yui stifled a chuckle and dropped her book, and I nearly fell over from yet another unstoppable bout of laughter that pierced all my psychological defenses.

    Damn, I really need to do something about this. What if All for makes a good joke during a fight¡­ or worse, what if some villain makes a bad joke, or doesn''t joke at all and starts spouting some stupid pompous speech in all seriousness. I''ll just laugh, get hit, and that''s it for me. What a bother.

    I caught my breath and glanced at the girl.

    Honestly, I used to be a hundred percent sure that those screams in awkward situations from anime were just a non-existent, impossible clich¨¦ in the closed and caste-based society of real Japan.

    And here I am¡ªlaughing.

    The quirks of national culture, I guess.

    And the culprit of the "laugh," the so-called patient zero, is trembling, blushing, worried, all curled up. She says she''s ashamed.

    And yet¡ªshe doesn''t look away.

    She doesn''t run off anywhere, doesn''t hide.

    She¡¯s ready to take responsibility for her reckless actions.

    She''s scared¡ªbut she stands her ground¡­

    And she¡¯s not even fifteen yet.

    A heroine, in one word.

    Such a stance deserves respect.

    "It''s all right¡­ well, almost all right, Tokage-san," I finally calmed down and addressed the girl. "You''re not a stalker, come on. You didn''t call me with threats, didn''t send insults to my email, did you?"

    The girl shook her head vigorously¡ªas if she had some specialized quirk for it.

    "Then don''t worry about it," I shrugged. "It''s all good, it happens."

    Maybe not the most consistent and educational response on my part, but how much longer can I torment this rather nice and even cute girl? And what kind of teacher am I, for kami-sama''s sake?

    Oh well, whatever.

    What concerns me more is¡­ Did I guess right? It''s about time to move on to more interesting things.

    "Uh... okay," Setsuna replied a bit confused, freezing in the middle of the street and clearly unsure what to do with my sudden kindness. "Um..."

    Deciding to test my latest hypothesis, hinting at it to the girl-builder and also giving her time to compose herself, I began to stretch demonstratively.

    Kodai quietly chuckled behind her book.

    Well, yeah. Funny to say, but even after fifteen years in this life, I still start my warm-up routine with a couple of typical exercises straight from my first life''s school gym class.

    Neck, shoulder girdle, wrist, and ankle rotation...

    "Oh, right, that''s it, I almost forgot!" exclaimed the blonde, slapping her forehead. Interestingly, her hand was levitating in the air. "I wasn''t just looking for you for nothing!"

    At these words, Setsuna Tokage, flipping a strand of hair with a characteristic gesture, struck a pose she thought was impressive, thrusting out her hip and pointing a finger at me:

    "I challenge you! I challenge you to a duel! For the right to be considered the strongest and¡­ um, the coolest recommended student of U.A.!"

    I guessed. Guessed right again. I¡¯m good!

    Maybe I should go into psychology if the hero career doesn¡¯t work out? Or maybe beat the roulette in a casino, seeing as I''m this lucky. Heeeey¡­ I could nudge the ball with my quirk onto the right slot¡­

    Wait, hold on, head. I''ve just been challenged to a duel!

    The "epic" moment was slightly ruined by the muffled giggling from somewhere behind my back, but I still tried to keep a straight face and nodded sternly, cranking up the drama to turbo-action levels.

    "Well, I¡¯d be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t expecting something like this. What''s at stake?"

    "Uh¡­ what do you mean? Oh, wait¡­ oh! Alright, I¡¯ve got it: I''ll be the class president, and you¡¯ll be my deputy! Well, I mean when I win. I mean, if¡­ ugh, you get it. Anyway, All Might was the president of Class ''A,'' and so will I!"

    "And you''re that sure you''ll get into ''A''?" The skepticism was particularly hard to suppress, considering my knowledge of the future where she wasn''t the brightest student in ¡®B.¡¯ "Besides, we might end up in different..."

    "Pfft," Setsuna waved dismissively, "I¡¯m the best! Everyone says so, and I¡¯ve never lost! Of course, I''ll get into Class ''A''; everyone knows the best students are there! And you¡¯re not too bad either¡­ well, from what I¡¯ve seen¡­ sometimes¡­ Anyway! You won''t throw me off my path with your insinu¡­ insinua... ugh! In-si-nu-a-tions, yes. Now, where was I..."

    She tilted her head and smirked:

    "Anyway, enough talking, let¡¯s have a match!"

    I grinned in response.

    "Why not."

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Gyaru-Setsuna sitting and waiting for Niren and Yui :)

    I must say, I really like this look.

    ¡­ Niren does not, though. Impractical!

 Episode 7. Part III.

    Already in the gym, a technical question piqued my interest:

    "Can you fight properly without a special costume? Do you have it with you?"

    "Ha, just as I expected from my opponent!" exclaimed the future H?o?k?a?g?e? heroine, playfully wagging her finger at me. "Yes, you''re right; I have a special costume. I got it just a couple of months ago. But I won''t even need it!"

    The blonde, still in her skirt and blouse, stomped to the opposite end of the gym, into the shadow beside a stack of sports equipment and mats, and with a smile, clasped her hands behind her back, as if to say, "Come at me, I''m the queen."

    "Bandages, gloves, kimono?" I raised an eyebrow unintentionally.

    I turned and moved to the other end, near the window. There were about ten meters between us, but from this point, the light of the setting sun slightly blinded me, so I couldn''t see her very well. Smart.

    I extended my hand to block the window''s light, studying the girl more closely.

    "Nope. Well, go on, attack! Or are you scared?" Setsuna smiled carelessly.

    However, I wasn¡¯t deceived, having stopped underestimating any opponent after Mashirao. My eyes, trained through hundreds of "quirky" sparrings, noted the girl''s focused gaze, the tension in her shoulders with her hands held behind her back, and even the fact that her hands weren''t even there anymore, judging by her posture.

    She wants to beat me with trickery, huh? Well, okay.

    No, seriously, let''s see what I can do if I brazenly walk into someone else''s trap. If a schoolgirl can beat me, then what chance do I have against All for One?

    Shrugging, I moved forward.

    At first, walking, then, about five meters away, I sped up... well, just a bit. Just in case she couldn''t close the trap in time.

    And... I didn''t make it.

    Setsuna stood there, as if preparing to attack, but surprise-surprise, it was a trap. About a meter and a half away from her, someone grabbed me by my clothes¡ªit felt like at least two people¡ªfrom behind, where I couldn''t see and couldn''t elbow into the diaphragm to break free from the hold, and... lifted me into the air.

    In the end, I hung by the wall like a sad cat.

    Setsuna started celebrating, jumping around and generally flaunting her intellectual and combat superiority.

    Her plan was simple. Simple, risky, but quite effective¡ªchoosing the battle conditions herself while I couldn''t see her, setting up an "ambush" using hands that had circled around me from behind, then attacking¡ªgrabbing my clothes, shoulders, underarms, picking me up with her elbows, and lifting me into the air, where I hung helplessly. Smartly keeping me at a distance from the wall and ceiling so I couldn''t push off.

    After all, what difference does it make how good I am in close combat if I''m hanging in the air and can''t reach the girl?

    And, in principle, this plan was indeed not bad, which I demonstrated by clapping my hands.

    Clapping my hands.

    You got it; I''m good at hiding my quirk.

    However... well, we''re still talking about me here.

    I''ve been preparing to smash the face of the strongest being in this world since I was four.

    ***

    Meanwhile, Setsuna Tokage.

    Setsuna was on top!

    Setsuna had calculated everything!

    And she succeeded! It was a brilliant plan! And how elegantly she pulled it off, how beautifully she won, huh? Did you see that? And yes, she made an impression on that cool boy, and now she''s dominating the...

    Her neat train of thought, dedicated to well-deserved self-admiration, was interrupted by a clap and a gust of wind, and... and... how did this happen...

    Mouth agape, she watched as the other recommended student for U.A. crushed her confidence in victory... and at the same time, her self-esteem.

    The guy sharply thrust his hands forward. The ensuing push threw him back¡ªalong with Setsuna''s hands, which had clung to him with all their might in an attempt to keep him away from the surface. It didn''t help. Twisting his entire body abruptly, the guy did a flip in the air, slamming his feet against the walls and powerfully pushing himself downward, propelling himself toward the floor like a rocket.

    He easily brushed off the hands still clinging to him, casually swatting them away, and parried a few following blows effortlessly.

    He landed softly on the ground without a sound, rolling smoothly.

    No, he looked like a predator, some kind of tiger or panther she watched on TV as a child when there were no superhero shows. Efficient, precise movements, lightness, almost weightlessness...

    "Pervim delom, pervim delom samolety, ny a devushki, a devushki potom," the boy muttered distractedly in a language unfamiliar to her, casually deflecting the last desperate attack and approaching Setsuna as if nothing had happened.

    At that moment, he exuded such a threat that the girl involuntarily recoiled and, unable to maintain her balance due to the incomplete set of arms and legs, fell on her butt. Not at all gracefully.

    And in that same moment, she was struck by the realization of just HOW vast the gap was between their levels. This guy... this monster... he was just playing with her. Letting her show what she could do. Why not? Of course, he didn''t interfere with her! And she had even wondered why he was giving her so much time to prepare... what could she possibly do to him...

    Setsuna felt goosebumps all over her body.

    "Not a bad plan, Tokage-san," the polite monster said casually, extending a hand to her.

    The girl, lost, accepted his help and stood up...

    Then Tokage irritably pushed back her disheveled hair and shook her head. Why was she so foolish today?! So flustered that she even forgot about her quirk''s levitation.

    Adjusting her skirt and rubbing her backside, Setsuna began to frantically search for a way to restore her self-esteem.

    Finally, her gaze fell on the girl sitting calmly on the bench, chewing gum, Yui-something-or-other-san. Either a student or the monster''s cheering squad.

    As far as the gyaru¡­ although, hey, Setsuna wasn''t really a gyaru; she just liked the style, and it suited her, all her friends said so, yes, yes!

    As far as she knew, unlike the monster himself, this brunette with a stylish bob hadn''t shown anything extraordinary.

    Well, she can shrink things; she can enlarge things, big deal...

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll easily beat her,¡± concluded Setsuna Tokage confidently.

    ***

    Niren, same place.

    Yui defeated Tokage almost faster than I did.

    But it was kind of expected. I rather knew what I was up against, so I didn''t prepare, while Kodai, sitting on the bench, had time to assess the potential opponent''s abilities and come up with some decisions.

    And, to a large extent, the swift victory was due to one girl calculating the impulsive actions of the other.

    After all, Setsuna was the one who initiated the attack¡ªquickly, with gusto!

    Apparently, trying to redeem herself in our eyes, or maybe just trying to burn out her own frustration with hot iron.

    Eight controlled "projectiles" flew at Yui at a pretty decent speed¡ªthough they were completely useless in terms of target selection and execution.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    And Yui stood there, utterly unperturbed, blowing a bubble with her pink gum.

    I nodded approvingly, grinning.

    When Setsuna''s strikes were about to hit, Yui stepped back and suddenly enlarged the bubble to about one and a half meters in diameter.

    And¡ªta-da!¡ªTokage, not having time to stop, got "stuck" in the problem, immediately losing half her weapons.

    As we already know, Yui''s quirk doesn''t remove the physical or chemical properties of objects; it merely increases their density and durability. The "stickiness" of the pink, almost opaque bubble remained exactly the same, if not increased, while its elasticity and density reached such levels that Setsuna''s "puzzles" were simply trapped, like flies in a web.

    A pink, strawberry-scented web.

    ...actually, to explain the mechanism of Yui''s quirk (and save my sanity at the same time) and also assess its prospects, we took several trips to our city''s science center over the last year, which focuses on researching promising quirks. A couple of scientists and their lab assistants found the time to do some "extra-curricular" work with us after several months of correspondence.

    And first of all, hallelujah!

    My worldview stopped cracking because Yui doesn''t enlarge or shrink atoms, molecules, quarks, or anything else. A microtome, several microscopes, and a few specialists confirmed this. No, what her quirk does is, like¡­ "infuses" the intermolecular space, not occupied by ionic or hydrogen bonds, with some stable "dense" energy, which allows the surface of an object to "expand" without losing its properties. Lots and lots of quotation marks!

    In short, it won''t explode. Whew.

    However, it''s still not advisable to ingest any liquid or organic matter she enlarges. Although the substances are absolutely stable, and the molecules are ordinary and therefore harmless, the density of the matter still increases, even if not by a factor of ten, and this could negatively affect digestion. In short, the scientists advised against drinking "Yui-ised" water or eating such food, and I was inclined to agree with them.

    But there''s no need to worry about inhaling enlarged gas molecules, which I was afraid of. Her quirk practically doesn''t affect gases at all, and moreover, enlarged volumes of solid matter or liquid almost stop evaporating.

    The reduction process turned out to be much more complicated, which, to be honest, I still didn''t understand. The gist is that the space between the molecules somehow "folds" thanks to some kind of energy layer, and the molecules and atoms are packed very tightly, without losing properties and even gaining more stability than usual.

    It''s somewhat similar to stasis states in sci-fi, as the scientists suggested that products in such a form would spoil more slowly, and fragile things would become stronger, paradoxically.

    Essentially, Yui''s size manipulation is two similar but different quirks with different mechanisms of influence and divergence in some details.

    Neither of them worked instantly; for example, Yui could shrink a one-meter-high metal barrel to the size of a mobile phone in about three seconds. Enlargement occurred a bit faster. However, to shrink an object, Yui had to maintain tactile contact; for enlargement, she didn''t need to¡ªjust touching the target at the moment of activation was enough, and the effect would persist until Yui stopped "supplying energy" in passive mode or consciously canceled the action.

    This property allowed us to develop techniques based on throwing various rubber balls with liquid, chewing gums, and so on.

    However, the cancellation of the quirk''s effect could be instantaneous¡ªa kind of cheat code from cartoons where an anvil drops on an opponent''s head.

    Moreover, both quirks had something like an "emergency brake" or "foolproof" feature¡ªYui couldn''t enlarge an object beyond a certain limit, around thirty to forty times, and she couldn''t shrink an object more than fifty times. Furthermore, a significantly sized object, like a building, would be affected by the quirk much less than, say, a wrench or a trash can. The more complex the object, the harder it is to change its size. This is supposedly related to the mystical energy, which would require much more in the case of "infusing" a building than a wrench.

    At least, that''s how it was explained to us, and this particular thesis seemed logical to me.

    And speaking of safety devices: it turned out that it''s quite dangerous for Yui to be distracted during the activation of her quirk. There''s a small, but existing, chance that she might accidentally enlarge or shrink something she didn''t intend to. The likelihood of this mishap increases proportionally with fatigue. Yui was told to get plenty of rest and not to overexert herself.

    And in the same category of things to avoid were Yui''s attempts to "push" beyond the boundary where objects refuse to enlarge or shrink. Predictably, in the ultimate experiment to increase a tennis ball to the size of a balloon, she suddenly began to tire very quickly and almost lost consciousness within a couple of seconds.

    However, we all agreed that the experience was immensely useful¡ªknowing one''s limits is necessary.

    Whatever the case, the people in lab coats, excited by the prospects, warned us that complex electronics could break from shrinking. And they could also fail from intense enlargement, as the laws of quantum mechanics and material strength have not been canceled.

    Fortunately, a simple moped or a sports bike without any electronic gadgets or futuristic guns should easily withstand both, so no big deal.

    Yui might even be able to use these possible electronic failures in her superhero career. For destroying detonators, for example... since, theoretically, the explosive power of a reduced bomb would hardly change¡­ though the bomb''s weight during the explosion would be much less, hmm¡­

    ¡­I blinked and looked again at the strawberry gum bubble around which the puzzle pieces of the mosaic girl flailed helplessly. A cool move, overall.

    My personal opinion is that any hero whose quirk involves interaction with surrounding objects should always have those objects, i.e., weapons, on hand. Many of us are weapons ourselves¡­ me, for example. I mean, I''m from this reality. Or Setsuna.

    But Yui, for example, or many of my future classmates should have weapons on hand. Always. Every minute. "Constant readiness!", so to speak.

    That''s why the ever-ready and prepared Yui retreated from the bubble, pulled a regular round pencil from her pocket, enlarged it to resemble a short staff, and, calmly parrying the blows raining down on her, began to approach Setsuna in an arc, who was angrily shouting about underhanded tricks. The contrast was striking.

    In any case, the "fight" predictably ended in less than a couple of minutes¡ªat the moment when Kodai reached her opponent and threw something on her that she had pulled from another pocket. That "something" turned out to be a volleyball net, which Yui had shrunk and stashed away while we were fighting, and then enlarged again.

    And now, she just rolled Setsuna up in it, like in that Soviet comedy where some guy named Shurik rolled up an angry man in a carpet.

    In short¡­ when the unfortunate girl finally untangled herself, not without our help, she was in a sorry state. I understood her. You can endure a single painful blow to your self-esteem without reevaluating your values and self-importance. But two in a row¡­

    Setsuna went quiet. Then, unusually timidly, without any energy, she asked if she could stay and watch our training. Her voice was quiet, broken.

    Of course, we allowed it.

    We could already start worrying about the future heroine¡­

    But the dyed blonde quickly recovered, earning yet another respectful look mixed with a smirk. No, seriously, her stress resistance and adaptability, her psychological flexibility, are incredible.

    By the end of the training, which was an hour and a half later, she was bouncing around us, shouting excitedly things like, "Wow! What''s that move called? Nothing? Let''s call it ''Staff Technique: Axis of the World!'' Cool? Tell me it''s cool!" and "Hey, monster, I want to be the first to get your autograph!"

    "I''m afraid I''ll have to disappoint you, Tokage-san," I replied, interrupting the sparring session, as the timer had gone off. It was time to leave¡ªschedule, strict daily routine, all that. "I''ve already promised the first autograph to my dad."

    "Nuuu¡­" Setsuna whined. Then she snapped out of it and began enthusiastically waving her arms around: "Well, no matter, no matter, Niren-chan, we''ll show them all! When we get recommended to the same class¡­ though there are three of us. Hmm¡­ Yui, Yui, you''re amazing, you should get a recommendation too! And then¡­"

    While unwrapping the bandages, I was simultaneously thinking about how to gently let her know that I had refused the recommendation. Oh, I got it!

    "Tokage-san, I refused the recommendation."

    "¡­and then our costumes will be in the same color scheme, and¡­ Huh?!"

    I had to explain.

    Obviously, I couldn''t reveal the two main reasons to anyone. Neither the fact that I needed to get into Class "A" specifically nor that I was almost one hundred percent sure what the entrance exam would be like, and therefore wasn''t worried about my results, being confident in the outcome.

    As I knew from the previous world, the entrance test in our admission year would be a massive brawl with a bunch of fragile but intimidating robots, where each defeated bot would be a point for attack, and each rescued comrade would be a point for, accordingly, rescue.

    Why am I "almost" sure about this? Because the U.A. entrance exam changes from year to year, and besides differences in the setting of the training ground¡ªsometimes a city, sometimes a beach, sometimes a park, and so on¡ªthey don''t always use robots. Yes, just five years ago, hired heroes from the lower ranks and senior students were fighting against the applicants. Yeah, that doesn''t sound very fair.

    ¡­but the third reason for my refusal of the recommendation, which I did voice to Setsuna and, as it turned out, fully shared with Yui, was not a lie.

    My soul, long sunk into the whirlpool of routine, training, and sparring, literally CRAVED a fight.

    I wanted a real battle and competition with a real opponent so badly that my hands were shaking¡­ even if they were harmless tin cans and mutant school kids.

    ¡°¡­In short, Tokage-san, I believe that all people who want to achieve something need victories. Your confidence in your abilities is measured by your achievements. And I want victories and want to be confident in myself."

    After listening to my answer and remaining silent for a while as I meditated on the bandages I was wrapping, Tokage hesitantly addressed me:

    "Niren¡­ I mean, Shoda-kun..."

    I raised an eyebrow.

    "I mean, Shoda-san!"

    I raised the second one.

    "Oh, damn, uh, Shoda-sama?..."

    I had no more eyebrows left to raise, so I just sighed wearily and said:

    "Drop the honorifics, I can''t stand them anymore. If at least someone could avoid them in conversation with me and just talk like a human, but no, it''s always this cultural code... Just Niren or just Shoda¡­ Tokage-saaan."

    "Huh?! That''s not fair!!"

    "It happens," I said philosophically, shrugging.

    Setsuna nearly crossed her eyes.

    "Are you kidding me?"

    "So, what did you want?" I asked, changing the subject since the girl, thanks to her indignation, had already shaken off her odd inhibition.

    She took a deep breath again, as she always did before making some wild suggestion, so I wasn''t even surprised:

    "Train me! Please! Or rather," her gaze briefly darted to the slightly surprised Yui, "train me! Please!"

    My first thought was: why do I need this headache?

    I had to suppress a sigh of frustration.

    Judging by Kodai''s expression, we agreed on this thought as well.

    ¡­And then came the second thought, which immediately made me more serious.

    Ahead¡ªthere''s a war.

    Sooner or later, I''ll trample enough butterflies for the story to unfold differently from the future I know.

    I can''t predict what will happen and how.

    And so I can''t predict who will be in the line of fire and who might die.

    It''s hard to think about, but it''s necessary.

    Ahead¡ªthere''s a war.

    Between old and new, heroes and villains, gray and black.

    And at the epicenter of this war will be teenagers¡ªyesterday''s schoolchildren who have barely learned¡­ something.

    If I can improve anyone''s chances of survival, it is my sacred duty.

    Maybe this way, I''ll save the life of this funny, cheerful girl.

    After all, I am¡­ a hero, right?

    So you already know what I answered.

    "Why not?"

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    Setsuna''s natural hair color and her fangs (the wiki lies again; she has pointed teeth in both the anime and manga).

    A representative manifestation of Setsuna''s abilities.

    ...and her big eyes, too.

 Episode 7. Part IV.

    Our next, or rather, first joint training session happened on Friday.

    It was initially supposed to take place on Thursday, but Tokage forgot her costume, and I flat-out refused to train with her under such circumstances.

    Already in the gym, after changing into her brand-new hero uniform (some private hero service firm had fitted her with a dark green, scaly jumpsuit made from her own hair. As I later found out, this is a fairly common method of equipping heroes whose quirks don''t go well with regular clothing), Setsuna proudly announced that she also practices martial arts¡ªat home, with a punching bag.

    And even has results, she said; before, she couldn''t move it at all, but now¡ªwith every punch, the bag shifts, practically runs away from mighty Setsuna.

    At the end, she scoffed dismissively, tossing her hair back:

    "It was just you monsters that my skills weren''t enough for, but I can definitely beat everyone else! With my righteous punch!"

    She struck another manga pose.

    After thinking for a moment, looking at her hands, and starting my warm-up, I began asking questions:

    "And where are your gloves, Setsuna? And bandages? You don''t have any wrist support."

    "I don''t need them," she tried to brush it off but caught my gaze and hesitated.

    "I''m afraid I have to tell you, you''re hitting like a girl," I chuckled.

    "Hey! That''s not nice to say. Alright, alright, we''ll see," she grumbled, digging through her bag, apparently hoping to find something of the sort. "Poor me¡­ nobody appreciates¡­ doesn''t understand the treasure they''ve got¡­"

    Sighing, I continued asking questions. The sooner I teach her not to underestimate¡­ anything, the better she''ll perform in a real fight.

    "And what does your punching bag look like?"

    "Uh¡­ well, it stands on the floor. I wanted one like in the movies, on a chain, but my mom wouldn''t let me drill holes in the ceiling, so¡­ yeah. The base is about this round. Did I already mention how strong I''ve become? I have, I have! I move it with my punches, bam, bam! No villain can withstand that!!"

    I moved away from her pointless flailing fists and gently inquired:

    "And you''ve only filled the base of the bag with sand or water once?"

    Sensing something in my tone, Setsuna quieted down a bit.

    "Yes¡­ With water..."

    "Uh-huh. And the floor under the bag is wet after your punches?"

    "Wet¡­ no, no, no, you''re joking. Are you saying it just got lighter over time while I was hitting it?" she asked in a downcast voice, lowering her head and hiding behind her hair. "Shoda-sensei, you''ve embarrassed me again..."

    Well, you can''t take away her quick thinking. Just selective.

    "It''s okay, Setsuna; it''s good for you!"

    Of course, she didn''t have any bandages. With a heavy sigh, I handed her a pair of my spares (I have plenty since they wear out because of my quirk).

    Awkwardly wrapping them around her fists under my guidance, the girl found it appropriate to ask:

    "And what are they for, anyway?"

    "To support the wrist and strengthen the fist. Don''t wrap them too tightly; you''ll cut off circulation, and your hands will hurt later."

    "Don''t boxing gloves do the same thing? This is uncomfortable..."

    "Hmm¡­ let me answer your question with a question. You''re here to learn how to fight, aren''t you? Not to slack off? Then learn the basics, dear student¡­ in your free time, at home, on the computer. I can chew everything up and spoon-feed it to you, but it doesn''t free you from the need to think and figure things out on your own."

    The dear student puffed up, annoyed.

    But she diligently endured an hour and a half of training, which, by the way, required me to carefully arrange the schedule.

    When we finished warming up and Setsuna started tying her hair into a high ponytail, I sat down on the floor and patted the spot next to me invitingly:

    "We''ll start with a simple exercise that trains the fist for punching and simultaneously strengthens the wrist, shoulder girdle, and core muscles. Get into a push-up position and press your fists against the floor¡­ yep. Usually, this exercise is done with a partner, but since you''re a one-man band, I think you''ll manage on your own. And you¡¯ll also be training your quirk. So¡­ can you levitate a part of your body without detaching it?"

    Judging by her expression, this idea hadn''t crossed her mind:

    "M-maybe¡­"

    "Good. In that case, from a push-up position, lift, say¡­ both legs from the feet to the knees, about waist height¡­ or my head level since I''m sitting. Can you manage?"

    "Yeah, yeah, just a second, here¡­ uh¡­ like this, maybe¡­"

    Not wasting any time, I started doing the "butterfly" exercise. Both useful and calming.

    "Sir, Private Setsuna has completed the task, sir!"

    "Excellent, Private! Now¡­ do you see that wall over there?"

    Private Setsuna looked across the gym, and her face took on a trapped expression:

    "I see it¡­"

    "Well, what are you waiting for, Private? Get going, and with a song! Step-step!"

    "You''re mean..."

    Step, step, step. Step. Step.

    I got up and approached her:

    "Wait. If you plan to be a famous heroine in the future and sign autographs, you''ll still need your thumbs. Don''t tuck them inside your fists; that''s a sure way to break one."

    I¡¯d rather not recall how she used to hit the bag at home.

    Setsuna took the opportunity to rest after ten seconds of work and began showing what a wonderful student she was:

    "Okay, so how should I do it, to the side? I think I saw moves like that¡­"

    "No. First, there¡¯s a much higher chance of dislocating it that way. In a fight, things often don¡¯t go as planned, and if a blow glances off, it might land directly on the thumb tucked to the side. It¡¯ll hurt, and you won¡¯t be able to eat with a fork. Second¡­ all my experience tells me that the most natural physiological position is often the best and most reliable. Placed underneath, under the middle phalanges of the fingers, the thumb is not only partially protected from impact but also strengthens the fist by pressing against the phalanges and tensing the adductor muscles."

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "Ohhh¡­"

    "By the way, you were going somewhere."

    After her pilgrimage back and forth, the whining private returned with a question:

    "Niren, hey, Niren, when will we get to the actual punches?"

    "All in good time. You keep stepping, darling¡­ and don¡¯t cheat with your quirk."

    Setsuna blushed:

    "Ahhh! How did you guess?!"

    "It''s written all over your face."

    "Hey! Heeey!"

    "I love the smell of napalm in the morning!"

    When we finally finished and started changing, Setsuna immediately tossed the bandages into her bag. Tangled.

    I sighed again. Should I explain that trying to wrap a tangled bandage, left unrolled after the previous training, is one of the tortures used to punish sinners in hell?

    ¡­No, I won¡¯t. A practical lesson is always better remembered.

    I carefully checked the integrity of mine, nodded in satisfaction, and neatly rolled them into two balls, securing a loop on top for reliability.

    "Niren, you''re such a stickler," Setsuna said admiringly.

    I wagged my finger:

    "You haven''t seen the other guy¡­ I mean, Mashirao. He washes his bandages after every training session. And irons them."

    "Ooh¡­"

    ***

    Time flew by quickly, and once again, I found my groove.

    But this time¡­ not alone.

    With all the hassle that came with meeting Setsuna, I nearly missed the news of another of All Might''s heroic deeds.

    I almost missed the report from the scene about some green, liquid, river-mud-like monster (the criminal wasn''t lucky with his quirk, for sure) and two schoolboys. One of whom, despite an amazing quirk, ended up being taken hostage by the monster, and the other, completely quirkless¡ªrecklessly rushed to save him¡­ resulting in both of them being rescued by the Symbol of Peace.

    Well, it''s begun.

    Seeing the report, I put down my smartphone and stared into space for about ten minutes, not reacting to external stimuli. It''s begun. This world is, after all, the very one I saw in the anime. There was a chance, albeit a small one, that it wasn''t, but¡­

    It means all the horrors I saw in the later seasons are likely true.

    After a couple of weeks of training, making sure the girl kept up the pace and was genuinely trying, Yui and I started conducting experiments. Since I had spent years studying my own quirk first, and then we worked on Kodai''s together, we had some experience¡ªwhich naturally resulted in dozens of ideas and questions.

    For example, like this:

    ¡°How small a part of yourself can you separate?¡± Yui asked.

    ¡°At what distance? Does an obstacle affect it?¡± I inquired.

    ¡°Can you control, say, a phalanx of a finger?¡±

    ¡°What if you put it in a box? A lead-lined box? Swallowed by an animal?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tear villains apart from the inside with my own hands!¡± Setsuna exclaimed enthusiastically, throwing those hands into the air. ¡°I just need to figure out how to get them to swallow my hands!¡±

    Or like this:

    It turned out that Setsuna could indeed regenerate her parts if they were damaged. She learned this in a rather traumatic way¡ªshe accidentally used her quirk at the zoo as a child to get a better view over people¡¯s heads, lost control while flying, and her hand was mauled by a bear.

    ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± the blonde nonconformist sighed, ¡°after that, I was scared of zoos for a long, long time. And bears. They¡¯re terrifying¡­¡±

    Yui silently patted Setsuna on the head. Setsuna nodded mournfully, and the girls almost hugged.

    How sweet¡­

    Of course, this conversation happened in the middle of training, so the show of support soon turned into a choking hold.

    But that¡¯s fine, that¡¯s how it should be. First of all, constant vigilance!

    Secondly, grappling or throwing moves against Setsuna are a dead end. Her quirk is extremely inconvenient for that, her costume is slippery, and it seems Kodai¡¯s quirk doesn¡¯t work on her costume either, probably due to the same organic properties that make the suit compatible with Tokage¡¯s quirk.

    By the way, Setsuna''s suit is the same color as her natural hair color¡ªdark, dark green. I don¡¯t know why I thought it should be purple¡­ Maybe she planned to dye it in the future?

    In summary, Setsuna Tokage is one of the most troublesome opponents for Yui Kodai. Mobile and unpredictable. At least, she has every chance to become one if she learns to control her surroundings and fight properly.

    Anyway, we had plenty of suggestions, questions, and ideas regarding Setsuna¡¯s quirk. We started each joint training session with them:

    ¡°How fast can you fly, I mean, levitate each part? Like¡­ honestly, an elbow to the opponent¡¯s stomach flying at the speed of a professional cyclist¡ªnobody would wish that on their enemy.¡±

    ¡°My first super move!!¡±

    ...

    ¡°Can you regenerate a part of your body when it still exists but is separated? In other words, can you duplicate?¡±

    ¡°Shadow clones!!!¡±

    ...

    ¡°What parts of the body can you regenerate? How many? How fast?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to check that!!¡±

    ...

    ¡°Can you maintain orientation and spatial relationship of body parts? What if other parts are missing between them? I know you can do it in static, but can you do it in motion? In combat? This way, you can easily extend the fighting range as much as you need¡ªbasically, a close-range fighter, but with long-range capabilities.¡±

    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±

    ¡°If you think about it, you¡¯re essentially capable of limited telekinesis. This means it¡¯s vital for you to control and register your surroundings and notice every object you can use as a weapon. In this, you¡¯re similar to Yui, which is why she¡¯ll be training you in this¡­¡±

    ¡°Sis! Onee-san! I ran away from this brute, mistakenly called a teacher! Take care of me!¡±

    She was given a stern look.

    ¡°Push-up position.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°One hundred push-ups.¡±

    ¡°Niren-sensei, save me!!!¡±

    ¡°Two hundred push-ups.¡±

    ¡°Mewl¡­¡±

    ...

    ¡°Have you seen your teeth? No offense, you have a beautiful smile. But the teeth themselves¡ªthey¡¯re almost like a shark''s, Setsundere. You can not only transmit messages vocally over distance, which, by the way, is a great idea, but you can literally bite any opponent on the thigh.¡±

    ¡°Biting is gross¡­¡±

    ¡°Drop that squeamishness. If there¡¯s an advantage, it must be exploited!¡±

    ¡°Alright, senpai~...¡±

    ...

    ¡°How fast can you split to hide and escape? Uh-huh. And how fast can you reassemble? Are there differences? Can you use separation to dodge attacks?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a megazord!!¡±

    ...

    ¡°Is your regeneration process controlled, active, or passive?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    ¡°I mean, do you need to concentrate on restoring damaged parts? And what about pain?¡±

    At this point, Setsuna thought for a moment.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m not sure. I think when I split and accidentally bump into something, the pain is dulled, but I¡¯ve always tried to be careful and not bump into anything. Mom said that when I was a child, I was constantly covered in bruises and scrapes because I couldn¡¯t control my quirk well and kept bumping into things. But they all healed on their own¡­ and when I lost a few parts of myself, like when my hand was hit by a car¡­ they just regenerate, I just have to wait, and have a lot of patience. But I do get very tired while waiting.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­ that¡¯s a shame.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?!¡±

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m happy for you, of course. Sorry, my statement did come out ambiguous. But if the process were fully controllable, you could theoretically create an extra pair of arms¡­ - Yui''s imagination was unstoppable. ¡°Or even a head¡­¡±

    Setsuna looked at me so plaintively that I decided to intervene:

    ¡°You know, I think Tsuna must retain a ''connection'' to the body''s whole state. She controls each part, outside of levitation, as if it remained in its natural place. But how would she control a second pair of arms when a normal person doesn¡¯t have them?¡±

    ¡°Hm¡­ yeah. Oh well, it¡¯s my job to make suggestions.¡±

    ¡°Hey! Hey! Why would I need a second head? I¡¯m not stupid!¡±

    ...

    ¡°Do you have a limit on the number of parts you can divide into?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t knooow¡­ I¡¯ve never split into more than fifteen to twenty parts.¡±

    ¡°Got it. Then from today, we¡¯ll train that.¡±

    *Sounds of girlish whining*

    ...

    ¡°Can you separate your hair? And levitate it? This could potentially create an almost invisible sensory network¡­ if it registers tension and displacement¡­¡±

    ¡°I can! But I won¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid of going bald!!¡±

    ...

    ¡°Tsuna, what¡¯s the maximum speed at which you can separate a part? And what¡¯s the maximum speed your levitation can reach? It seems to differ depending on the weight and volume of each part, as far as I can tell. Alright. First, your main assignment for the next¡­ month is to train explosive acceleration. However you like. Yes, if it works, combine it with the strikes and stances I taught you. Combine everything¡ªthe correct punch, fast separation, fast levitation. No matter how remarkable your body is, we already know that you have functional muscle memory. Secondly¡­¡±

    ¡°Niren, hey, Niren, do you really think I¡¯m remarkable?¡±

    ¡°Yes, body, I do think you¡¯re remarkable.¡±

    ¡°...That didn¡¯t sound very sexy¡­¡±

    ¡°We work with what we have.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    ...

    ¡°Wear your suit under your clothes ninety-nine percent of the time, got it? Obviously, in an emergency, you¡¯ll run from a villain and save people even with a bare butt, but if you can avoid it, why not? A hero should always be ready to react quickly to any problem.¡±

    ¡°Hm¡­ I heard you want to see me naked?¡±

    ¡°¡­Apparently, you didn¡¯t manage to put your ears back in place?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be shy about your inner desires, Niiiren, it¡¯s so natur¡­ Ow!¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Setsuna, I listened to you and decided not to restrain my inner desire to flick your forehead.¡±

    ¡°No worries, I¡¯ll still manage to defeat and embrace you! I mean, embarrass you! I¡¯ll embarrass you with my feminine charms, you¡¯ll see!¡±

    ¡°You should put your boobs back first.¡±

    ¡°Pervert!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right there,¡± I pretended to think. ¡°We¡¯re doing something pervertedly pointless instead of proper training. Let¡¯s check your maximum lifting capacity. Do you see those mats over there?¡±

    ¡°Aaaah! I was wrong, I was so wrong, I¡¯m sorry, sorry, sorry¡­ somebody, save me¡­¡±

    ¡­

 Episode 7. Part V.

    Time went on. Setsuna didn¡¯t change much.

    "Alright. This won''t do. Listen. Get used to the idea that you won¡¯t look glamorous, beautiful, and well-groomed a hundred percent of the time, gyaru-san."

    "Huh?"

    "Heroes like that don¡¯t exist at all, not even All Might. He gets covered in dust and blood too, you can Google the photos. But it so happens that your main weapon, Setsuna, is your body. This automatically means you¡¯ll be covered in dust and blood almost all the time."

    "My weapon is my body... like yours is for you?"

    "More so. To a greater extent than anyone else."

    ...

    "So, your levitation speed is definitely improving, and so is the duration. What about your lifting capacity? No? Then, starting next week, we should focus on carrying mats..."

    "Ugh..." Setsuna blew her bangs out of her eyes without even trying to argue. After today¡¯s training, she was so exhausted that she couldn¡¯t even levitate and was trudging around the gym, picking up her body parts one by one.

    Quite a sight.

    "I get it, I¡¯m wiped out too. But you can carry a lot of stuff, and that¡¯s invaluable. For example, you could save a lot of people if there was an earthquake. Clearing rubble, for instance. And you could even carry people, about four or five medium-sized pieces of... uh... school of Setsuna. You know, like fish, except..."

    A growl came from the corner of the gym.

    "I¡¯m going to bury you! You¡¯ll need rescuers yourself soon! Just... wait... stay right there..."

    I looked at the floor, concerned:

    "Hey, it really does feel like the ground is shaking. Could it be an earthquake? Alright, Tsuna, take care, I¡¯m out of here; it¡¯s not safe to stay. You should leave too. Bye-bye!"

    "Wait! Face your death with honor!... ugh..."

    ...

    "Alright. You¡¯re doing it again! Stop doing that!"

    "Stop doing what?" I asked, surprised, having been cut off mid-sentence.

    "You¡¯re trying to open my eyes to some stupidity of mine that I didn¡¯t think about, making me feel ashamed again, not knowing where to blush or how to look! I mean, the opposite! I mean, you can¡¯t do that to a girl, Niren!" Setsuna, somehow getting up from the mat, switched to a lecturing tone, raising a finger to the ceiling. "If you treat girls like that, especially beautiful ones like me, you¡¯ll never find family happiness and die! I mean, die single!"

    "Not accepted," I cut her off after listening to her tirade. "You¡¯re not just a girl; you¡¯re a U.A. applicant! A larva of a pro hero who came to me as a student! If you act like this with your teacher..."

    Groaning and not listening, Setsuna literally fell apart like a construction set, crumbling gently to the floor. It looked rather creepy.

    "I can¡¯t do this anymoooore..."

    However, I was relentless:

    "Well, since you can¡¯t do it anymore, let¡¯s work on your endurance tomorrow. You¡¯ve got the most problems with that. Let¡¯s say, twenty laps around the gym in a half-squat. And since I see you¡¯re still training your quirk, let¡¯s use the time efficiently and also work on levitation, spatial control, and multitasking. Send this, this, and this part of Setsuna to the corners of the gym and watch from there for..."

    The eye lying on the floor looked sad and pitiful.

    ...

    "Today, I''m interested in multitasking. Tuna, how many elements of yourself can you control at the same time?"

    Tsuna frowned and grumbled.

    Today she arrived looking more annoyed, disheveled, and toothy than usual.

    But, after all, it¡¯s still Tokage, so I wasn¡¯t risking anything beyond a friendly scuffle.

    "Stop calling me a fish!"

    "By the way, tuna is a very useful fish! You¡¯re lucky to be just as useful..."

    *sounds of angry biting*

    "Ouch."

    "Yud btter stp cllng mgnfcent me nams!"

    I drove her biting mouth away with a well-aimed flick.

    Kami-sama, you have no idea how much I love playing flicking games and how much my comrades fear my enhanced flicks!

    "Oww... you¡¯re mean!"

    "So?"

    "I already answered this recently... around fifteen to twenty. Well, maybe two or three more thanks to training," she said, moving her mouth back in place, brushing a strand of hair away and smiling proudly, though tiredly.

    "Got it. You¡¯re doing great. But that¡¯s not exactly what I¡¯m talking about. It¡¯s one thing to split up. It¡¯s another to consciously control each part, you know?"

    Tokage paused. She puzzledly ruffled her crow¡¯s nest of hair at the back of her head:

    "But I can only strike with a fairly large part... well, maybe also the mouth with the throat and ears for communication, eyes for spatial awareness... that¡¯s at most fifteen, well, twenty. Why do I need more? And actively using them would be just five to ten."

    I sighed.

    "First of all, a phalanx of a finger is enough to poke someone¡¯s eyes. Secondly... What¡¯s around us, Tsuna? In general?"

    "... Well... space?"

    "Yes. Space. And you have pronounced abilities to control it. That¡¯s a big advantage."

    "Hmm... Setsuna the Magnificent is like that, yes."

    "And how did Yui beat you the first time? How?"

    "... Um... preparation?"

    "No, not that."

    "Skillful use of space?"

    "Closer, but not quite what I want to hear."

    "... Items?"

    "Tools, yes. Auxiliary accessories. Environment. Essentially, separate parts of that same space that you can use in a fight. It¡¯s not about preparation; it¡¯s ingenuity. To wrap an opponent in a volleyball net you picked up from the corner, you need to improvise, think fast, and have good coordination. But..."

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "But I can do that wonderfully?"

    "But most people, including Yui and me, are limited to more or less human limits of speed, agility, and accuracy. In the end, we have two hands. But not you."

    "Hmm..." She brightened up a bit, though not for long. "I think I understand. But... aren¡¯t you exaggerating, Shoda-senpai? Like... well, I could really wrap simple criminals in jackets or pour superglue into their shoes, but what could I do with someone stronger? Like, I don¡¯t think such small tricks would impress All Might, you know?"

    "Sets... what did I start the conversation with?"

    "A flick?"

    "With the word ''multitasking.''"

    "But Nireeen... I understand I can do more things, but what¡¯s the point?!"

    Doesn¡¯t want to think for herself, huh.

    I turned to her, ignoring her cutely puffed cheeks, and issued a new directive:

    "Alright, private, listen to my command! There¡¯s a book that will be very useful for you to read, especially since you don¡¯t believe that numerous small impacts can be dangerous to a strong opponent! The book is called ''Worm.'' It¡¯s a very old story, even from the pre-quirk era, about heroes. In it, the main character is capable of..."

    ***

    Half a year passed like that.

    I worked a lot. Yui worked a lot. Setsuna... she was a monster, not just someone who worked a lot.

    In particular, she learned to separate body parts much faster, especially striking ones. And she could basically deliver strikes from almost any position and almost in any direction.

    "Listen, as I understand, your main style is Muay Thai, right? How did you choose what to focus on, and how do I choose my main style?" Tokage asked me once.

    I got distracted from my phone, not having completed the next item on my future preparation list. I have a habit of hanging out on the internet, but... it¡¯s all for the sake of work, yeah.

    All just for work.

    At that moment, I was searching for any mentions on the web about a villain capable of multiple self-replications and copying other things and people. Was his name supposed to be Twin, or was it, Twice...?

    I didn¡¯t find anything substantial.

    A certain "Duplicate" appeared in the public registry of wanted criminals, capable of creating several of his clones, just like the hero Ectoplasm. But the "Duplicate," as dubbed by the press, chose the path of a criminal and robbed banks several times in major cities of Japan. Nevertheless, he appeared suddenly and disappeared just as abruptly a few years ago, for unknown reasons.

    Could it have been him?

    Or not? The ability to create several duplicates and the terrifying skills of Twin (Twice?) from the anime, which represented an unstoppable cascade of cloning, are two different things. Not to mention, "Duplicate" was described as a confident blond man in a beige coat.

    There are many similar abilities in this world, aren¡¯t there? At every turn. The devil is in the details, the small differences, the missing constraints...

    In short, another dead end.

    It¡¯s even a bit frightening¡ªbased on my notes from the long-lost memories of the past world, I knew of several opponents, but I could find clues about a regrettably small number of them.

    But every day, I learned with new horror how incredibly many strong villains and ambiguous, grim heroes there are in this world, of whom there was no mention in my notes. A Dictator who can control an unlimited number of people; Moon Fish, a crazed maniac who creates hundreds of controllable blades straight out of his mouth; Annihilation, a hero who is a nightmare for villains, literally erasing any matter or energy in an unknown way; or the erratic Mr. Smiley, who, with a single damn smile, makes everyone around laugh uncontrollably, and his power works even through video cameras!

    Fortunately, the latter disappeared somewhere a few months ago and hasn¡¯t shown up on the radars.

    I blinked. Remembered the question. Tried to gather my thoughts:

    "Not quite. My style is a mixed bag tailored to personal preferences and the specifics of my quirk. You shouldn¡¯t focus on me. Besides, I¡¯ve been picking and borrowing techniques for many years, and my path probably doesn¡¯t suit you. Actually, it definitely doesn¡¯t. Every fighter, after going through the basics and getting a foundation, starts forming their own style, just like a musician, an artist, or a football player. What suits one may not suit another," I smiled slightly at Yui, who was listening to me attentively. We had a similar conversation a couple of years ago.

    "So yes, try to adapt and adjust any hand-to-hand combat techniques that we give you. Some things will suit you. Some things won¡¯t at all. You have a unique fighting style, just like Yui and Mashirao. But your style can be fast, even ultra-fast, and include combos of dozens of strikes. And you can¡¯t be overwhelmed by numbers. The main thing is not to forget about spatial control."

    "My eyes will soon grow stalks like a crab¡¯s..." Tokage complained, so cutely that Yui and I couldn¡¯t help but smile.

    "In any case... my experience tells me there¡¯s nothing more reliable than a simple punch. A properly executed one, with the right stance, full-body coordination, and from the leading hand, I mean. That¡¯s how I started, anyway. But I also believe that a fighter should know significantly more techniques and styles than they use or could even theoretically use¡ªto be able to counter any opponent and all their styles and techniques."

    "So... you mean it makes sense for me to look at other people''s techniques too, and try them on myself? I saw one move from Mashirao-kun..."

    "I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever met anyone who could adapt techniques from different schools so easily as you. But don¡¯t get carried away; you still have a lot of work to do on the basics. And yes¡ªtry not to give yourself away before striking¡ªnot with your stance, not with your gestures. That¡¯s a great trait¡ªyou can attack independently. Yes, I know this goes against what you¡¯ve learned before, but it¡¯s a very powerful advantage, both in terms of surprise and range. And if there¡¯s an advantage..."

    "You have to use it," the girls finished in unison, just like they always did whenever I nodded and pretended to stroke an imaginary gray beard.

    ***

    Over time, Setsuna got comfortable and started proposing her own ideas. Often¡ªthey were crazy. And her questions grew more complex and sophisticated.

    However, I didn¡¯t lag too far behind.

    For example, since pulling a pistol trigger, in Setsuna''s case, could be done with any small enough part of her body, I sent her to firearm training. The same training that Yui and I had already attended. Setsuna tried to argue, but I was relentless: if there¡¯s an advantage, it¡¯s... well, you get it.

    In general... her quirk is fascinating.

    I mean, even more so than any other quirk I''ve encountered here so far. Even more than Yui¡¯s.

    When Tsuna separates a body part, the "wound" surface is matte black. No internal organs, blood, or flesh is visible, thank Kami-sama.

    However, why is the inner surface black? Moreover, it''s an absolute black, absorbing light. Like a missing piece of reality, an inside-out, an absolute void. Just a black spot that cannot be illuminated.

    We tried it, after all¡ªI took her to our old research center.

    So, this blackness is almost perfect camouflage.

    That¡¯s why one of the specific techniques we developed for Setsuna with the girls uses this feature. While levitating, Tokage surrounds herself with large parts turned inside out. It works fantastically in deep shadows or at night; she¡¯s really hard to spot. She looks like a black alien sphere.

    Moreover, it turns out the black surface is quite strong, much stronger than human flesh. It acts as a kind of framework for the separated parts of the body and is the reason why each part, no matter what it is, retains its structure, shape, and doesn¡¯t turn into a floppy piece of meat.

    As a result, she can strike even very tough opponents pretty hard with literally any part of herself¡ªwith her fist, elbow, knee, or even... softer parts.

    Honestly, Setsuna''s quirk is really creepy, and I¡¯m even glad I don¡¯t possess it¡ªI think if I were in her place, I¡¯d quickly face an existential crisis or a crisis of self-identity as a humanoid.

    But Tokage is thick-headed and down-to-earth, and such things don¡¯t bother her much.

    And that¡¯s not all. Somehow, in some unknown, impossible way, the connection between her parts was maintained at one hundred percent¡ªthat is, her hands could still grip, her fingers could press buttons and transmit tactile sensations, her eyes could see, her mouth could speak, regardless of the absence of lungs or vocal cords nearby, and so on.

    Even though I knew all this from her initial "surveillance," it still impressed me.

    In the end, tormented by confusion and trying to fit all these properties into some cohesive hypothesis, I concluded that Setsuna¡¯s power was nothing more than a portal. Except it opens not outward but inside the body, and instead of instantly transporting her through space, it maintains a connection between body parts.

    On the one hand, this concept explained almost all of Tokage¡¯s abilities.

    On the other, it didn¡¯t cover levitation and enhanced regeneration. And I constantly observed the latter in action¡ªserious training can¡¯t be done without bruises and bumps, and Setsuna occasionally walked around with black eyes like a Christmas tree. However, all her bruises healed within half an hour! Not to mention that she can instinctively dampen inertia when falling using levitation.

    Makes me jealous.

    And yes. Of course, it¡¯s not nice to hit girls, but, believe me, such high moral standards evaporate quite quickly when you get kneed in the face five times in a minute. Or not even with a knee, but with something higher up.

    About that¡ªmeaning the portals, not the beatings¡ªwe had a separate conversation:

    "If I¡¯m right, try to feel this... ¡®spatial¡¯ sensation. When you separate, make sure to register and try to analyze how exactly you feel where each part of you is. You feel there are a dozen meters between your hands and feet, right? Maybe over time, you¡¯ll learn to sense distortions that arise in the presence of other people working with space or, for example..." I frowned, "... teleportation quirks."

    "Are there such quirks?" asked the now-brunette (her image change is a separate story) in surprise.

    I looked away, avoiding the answer.

    Someday, maybe, I¡¯ll tell you, guys, about myself. And about the possible future too.

    Someday...

    Not soon.

    "... you must be prepared for anything, right?"

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    "Duplicate"

    Confident Setsuna in her costume.

    Not so confident anymore, Setsuna.

 Episode 7. Part VI.

    Musical Accompaniment: DISTORTION OV REALITY - The Left Hand of Creation

    https://soundcloud.com/the-left-hand-of-creation/distortion-of-reality

    While Setsuna was quickly catching up to us and improving in every way, Yui and I, of course, didn''t wait around and kept evolving ourselves.

    I felt a well-founded paternal pride for Yui''s progress. Besides honing her combat skills, mastering staff fighting, and, to my surprise, taking up kendo, Kodai also started practicing athletic pole vaulting and, for good measure, parkour. Where does she even find the time?..

    There was logic in her actions, no doubt, because these activities should blend quite well with her ability to manipulate her surroundings and create platforms and elevators. But... honestly, I doubt I could handle such a workload and such a multifaceted preparation.

    She also came up with a new move¡ªin addition to preparing special projectiles in advance and using her quirk on the environment, her own weapons, and even her opponent''s clothing, Kodai began attempting to create holes under her opponents'' feet! How? With a quick touch during a fight, Yui can rip out a substantial chunk of ground, concrete, tiles, asphalt, and, with rare exceptions, almost any other surface, by instantly shrinking a meter-by-meter section.

    And then she can throw that piece at her opponent... using a slingshot built into her costume...

    I''m surrounded by monsters!

    At this point, I literally teared up.

    I created this monster, I did! Yui, I''m so proud of you!

    However, it will still be a while before this move is fully integrated into Yui''s fighting style because she still can''t manipulate objects with anything other than her hands. Ideally, she should be able to do it with her foot, and then she would become a truly terrifying opponent in close combat.

    Speaking of adjusting her quirk: Kodai finally learned to deactivate her quirk silently and with just one hand movement. On the one hand, this confirmed my belief that such gestures and words are just psychological anchors and limitations. But on the other hand, it was very hard for her to master this, and as she later confessed to me, Yui believes she will never be able to do it without any movements.

    And lastly, a complex but highly promising direction for developing Yui''s quirk was its application to liquids. As we saw back with the trash can at the dawn of time, the conditions for a given object''s susceptibility to her quirk are quite vague. The object can be composite¡ªit just needs to be perceived as a whole, like a bicycle, a pot, or a jacket. But she can change a separate part of it if needed, like a bicycle wheel or a jacket button. Meanwhile, an object, say, a bottle of water, can contain liquid. If Yui wants to enlarge the plastic container itself, only that will grow. However, if she focuses on enlarging the entire "complex"...

    Such feats were quite challenging for Kodai, despite our several attempts to change the size of devices like an old scooter with a fuel tank filled with fuel or a drinking water machine (which was unstable and unguarded, hehe). To my personal paranoia-fueled relief, the rescaling of gasoline (or water) didn''t cause any explosions or fires.

    So, when Yui isn''t thinking about the liquid in a composite object, the object expands smoothly with an equivalent increase in the liquid''s volume, retaining most of its properties, and in the case of water, remaining harmless. However, if the liquid is one of the main and obvious components, the enlargement either only affects the object or doesn''t work well at all. In other words, it''s direct proof of my hypothesis that this is another psychological barrier that can be overcome, not a strict conceptual limitation.

    After several trips to the research center and a few books on physics, molecular chemistry, and quirk theory, we made some progress, and our idea of enlarging rubber balls filled with liquid turned out to be feasible¡ªa clever researcher handed Yui one, claiming it was solid. But there was still a lot of work to be done, especially considering we needed the rubber shell of the ball to be thin enough to burst upon impact...

    As for me, I... simply stopped obsessively chasing the laurels of a genius fighter.

    There were several reasons for that.

    Firstly, the knot of tension that had been growing in my chest over the years¡ªthe fear of the future, the doubt in my abilities to change it¡ªhad somewhat loosened. It didn''t disappear entirely, but the tension lessened.

    Before Setsuna barged into our biome with Yui, I often woke up at night in a cold sweat, and generally, according to my parents, I rarely smiled and walked around gloomy.

    I hadn''t really noticed it myself¡ªI had gotten used to this tension and the difficulty of the upcoming task since childhood. Maybe back then, my nervous system was still at its most flexible, and I somehow managed.

    But when a person appeared next to me¡ªa cheerful, optimistic person who could make you laugh in an instant, someone who was upbeat and carefree in life... and also capable of not just being a burden in battle, but truly holding their own...

    Well, let''s say a small stone was lifted from my chest. It got a bit easier... a little.

    Secondly, I stopped obsessively practicing techniques because my kung fu simply became stronger than Mashirao''s.

    Don''t get me wrong, the guy was much more skilled in martial arts than I was, or at least he knew more.

    However, I became simply stronger and faster due to my quirk. Much faster and stronger. And the fact that I was already half a head taller than his meter sixty with a tail didn''t help either.

    I remember, after the tenth sparring session that ended in my dry victory, our shared sensei called me out for a private chat.

    I followed him out onto the dojo porch. It was a rather chilly evening.

    A lighter clicked.

    "Oh. I didn''t know you smoked."

    "Rarely," grumbled the tall, mustachioed blond man. However, he wasn''t as towering over me as he had been a couple of years ago. "Picked it up in the army."

    Akira Ojiro gave me an unreadable look from under his bushy eyebrows.

    "Do you disapprove?"

    "Hm... no," I hesitated before shaking my head. "I think everyone in this world needs their own... oasis of calm. I just recently realized that myself. And smoking isn''t the worst of those oases. Especially since you''ve been so careful to avoid passive smokers that I''m seeing this for the first time in three years."

    Sensei smirked into his mustache.

    To be honest, Akira, with all the facial hair, always reminded me more of a walrus than a lion.

    Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he reluctantly said:

    "No matter how I feel about it, no matter how we both feel about it, I don''t see much point in your sparring matches anymore, kid. You''re not even showing everything you''re capable of, right?"

    I frowned slightly but kept silent.

    "Mashirao, he... my son isn''t afraid of difficulties, and he won''t give up on his... our dream of becoming a hero. But the world isn''t always fair, and quirks are different for everyone. I''m not saying you''re lucky with yours¡ªI, of all people, understand how much you''ve worked on it¡ªbut Mashirao himself has a ceiling he can''t surpass purely due to the nature of his mutation."

    He paused for a drag.

    "But because of your sparring and his falling behind, he''s starting to wear himself out. He doesn''t say anything, doesn''t complain, but I can see it... And because of that, he''s losing sight of his goal!" Mashirao''s father snarled, gripping the railing. "His goal isn''t to kick your ass, Niren, but to become a good hero! So, genius, you''re just getting in his way now! Mashi can''t spread his wings. And as long as you''re here..."

    He trailed off, waved his hand, and reached for another cigarette.

    Apparently, I''m not talking to my master here, but to a concerned father.

    And in that case...

    "Well¡­ I''ve already found a replacement for me," I smiled calmly, trying to show that the walrus-sensei hadn''t offended me. "Though you won''t get rid of me that easily!"

    Akira frowned at first, then shook his head and chuckled.

    "I never thought... Well, who am I preaching to here, you see everything yourself. Genius..."

    He straightened up, flicked away the unused cigarette, and shook his hands as if regaining strength and composure.

    "Alright, then, who''s he, this... recommended replacement of yours?"

    I grinned wider.

    "Not ''he.'' ''She!''"

    ***

    It wasn''t too difficult to arrange training sessions for Mashirao and Setsuna, though it took some time. In the end, we trained Setsuna almost as a quartet, crosswise¡ªeach of us was happy to share some of our techniques with this fountain of positivity and talent named Tokage.

    The results were not long in coming!

    Based on Mashirao''s "super techniques"¡ªthe pompous "Whirlwind Roll" and the even more pompous "Dance of the Spinning Heavenly Tail" (as far as I understood, the second differed from the first only by spinning in the air, but every time I heard these names, I tried my best to keep a serious expression)¡ªSetsuna quickly came up with her own moves. Or rather, two.

    The first was a sort of defensive whirlwind on the spot, where she would start spinning some parts of her body around herself while standing still.

    The primitive concept turned out to be unexpectedly effective because Setsuna, who didn''t suffer from the limitations of a normal human''s vestibular apparatus, could spin her parts in opposite directions without risking them colliding. The resulting vortex looked like a berserk sentient meat grinder.

    The second move was a similar whirlwind around the opponent. An opponent surrounded and cornered found themselves literally hogtied by Setsuna''s fast-spinning "little Tsunies," which threatened to slice the fighter into sashimi.

    I could have joked about making a cutlet, but this is Japan, cultural code, and all that.

    Thank Kami-sama, Setsuna was sufficiently corrupted by my influence, so despite the enthusiastic reaction to Mashirao''s exclamations, she named her techniques pragmatically¡ªjust "Whirlwind" and "Reverse Whirlwind."

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    To avoid offending Mashi, and not least for my convenience, I continued training at the Ojiro family dojo, though not as fanatically.

    Sometimes, I arranged sparring matches against their duo or even against all of them, in which I inevitably got beaten up.

    And despite the fact that Akira-sensei had clearly demonstrated his knowledge that I wasn''t showing all my capabilities, I stubbornly continued to cling to my ace. Whether this was a mistake or not... time will tell. As long as I didn''t know who the traitor was (if there was one at all), who could be trusted, and who couldn''t, I had to keep as many advantages as possible.

    ***

    When I entered the locker room of our gym (which was shared, as one might guess, given the small size of the gym), wiping the back of my neck with a towel, I found... despair! Pain! Suffering! Kawaii! Cuteness!

    In short, Setsundere, partially undressed, had been defeated in an unequal battle with her pants and lay bottom up on the bench, groaning softly, making no attempt to crawl, at least, to the shower.

    I glanced indifferently at this undoubtedly erotic scene.

    Self-control, folks.

    What do you think a person''s self-control should be like if they''ve been hiding both their fully developed personality for over fifteen years and the remote use of their quirk for over twelve years while practicing martial arts longer than their biological body''s age?

    I think it should be okay.

    "Tsuna, are you alive?" I yawned as I began to gather my things.

    "Nooo..."

    "I wanted to suggest something. Can you process information?"

    "Y-yea-a-a..."

    "Try combining double and triple attacks. Start with a series of strikes in one plane, then from all sides and from different positions, at different distances, at different levels. You''re the queen..." I glanced sideways at the bench where I was being listened to attentively, smiling, "of the battlefield; you can feel and control the space, and you can and WILL defeat any opponent one-on-one."

    I turned to her.

    "Someday, at least. Right now, all I see is fish jelly."

    "Hey! Hey... wait, I''m gonna beat you up right now..."

    "Slime."

    Tsuna finally managed to sit up and started glaring at me.

    "Wow, an upright slime!"

    "Enough teasing... Niren, I''m tired," she leaned back, lightly bumping her head against the lockers, and stared at the ceiling. She did indeed look worn out. "I''m really tired. I... I knew it would be hard, but damn... I''ve only been at this for a few months, and you''ve been... how long, your whole life? How do you keep up this pace..."

    Having been her senior companion for half a year, I knew exactly when to push and encourage and when not to.

    Sighing, I sat on the same bench half a meter from her.

    "Do you know that you''re very, truly talented?"

    "Of course! You''re talking about the great me, aren''t you..."

    "I''m serious."

    She lowered the arms she''d raised in a burst of self-praise and stared at me, quite puzzled.

    "Uh... seriously, serious? I mean, well... I know I have a cool quirk; I was recommended, after all, but... I''m not... damn, Setsuna, focus!" She closed her eyes, which were suspiciously glistening. "I''m glad to hear that, but coming from you, of all people... it''s just funny, Niren. I spent most of my life thinking I was just better than everyone else. But after meeting you, and Yui, and Mashirao too, I realized that... oh, whatever. Even some of Mashirao''s brothers and sisters could beat me up, and they''re not even applying to be heroes! A-a-ah!" She covered her face with her hands at this point.

    I needed to support the girl. But how do you do that when you''re tongue-tied, and all my speaking skills went into my muscles?

    I took a breath, exhaled, and started speaking, slowly choosing my words:

    "I''m probably the last person who should say this, but... you''re too hard on yourself, Setsuna. Firstly, Mashirao''s brothers and sisters have been practicing martial arts since practically the cradle. And you''ve been seriously learning to fight for less than half a year. Secondly, you''re training under almost four senseis, breaking down techniques from completely different styles, trying to combine them¡ªand succeeding! Even I can envy your diligence," her fingers still covered her face, but I already noticed she was looking at me from a completely different angle, "You''re far more talented than, at least, I am. And this isn''t about your quirk, Tsuna. It''s about diligence. You know, people often say that talent determines a person''s future, that it''s the defining factor in success."

    I turned my head and looked her straight in the eye, well, one eye¡ªthe green, cute one floating in the air in front of me.

    "But I don''t believe in that, honestly. I believe that talent is nothing more than a platform, a starting capital that allows you to jump a little higher, start earlier, learn faster. But it doesn''t matter in the long run because that''s when diligence begins. Hard work starts. Talent is just a bonus, a sort of cherry on top of the cake of hard work. Do you understand? And it''s the ability to work like that, tirelessly, without compromise, to become the best, to fully realize your potential, so you don''t have any regrets later¡ªthat''s the real, the only talent that ultimately matters. The talent for hard work. And you''re, damn, some kind of monster in terms of diligence, not just a cute girl like I thought."

    The eye blinked away a tear of gratitude.

    Then it returned to its rightful place (I got used to it over six months).

    There was a rustling to my left, and then I felt the girl lean on me, resting her head on my shoulder. Though I couldn''t see, she might have done it separately, knowing her.

    "You talk just like a hero from a shounen manga..." Setsuna dreamily drawled. I turned my head slightly in her direction, and she took the opportunity to slyly glance at me:

    "So, you think I''m cute...?"

    How easy and simple it is with her... all right, the moment of weakness is over; Setsuna is back to being human.

    Luckily, I know her well enough to understand that she heard all my words, remembered them, and most likely took them to heart.

    "You might be cute..." I drawled, "But you''re also sweaty."

    The girl, blushing like a tomato, squeaked, recoiled from me, and dashed to the shower.

    I sighed.

    Well, whatever.

    I could probably show some interest in her in about... ten years, I guess?

    Maybe?

    Gloomily, I shifted my gaze from the doorway where the failed temptress-heart thief had disappeared to my distorted reflection in the dark window, beyond which the lights of the night city were visible.

    Yeah.

    As soon as I save the world...

    ***

    By the way, Yui also trained with Setsuna one-on-one and gave her advice, albeit less actively than I did. A funny example of their conversation that stuck with me began with the following phrase from Kodai:

    ¡°Try sometimes giving up binocular vision.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± The green-haired girl didn''t understand at first, but I, with some effort, gave Kodai a thumbs-up, trying not to burst out laughing.

    Because the context of the situation was unique: Yui, in her emotionless manner, gave this statement to our smiling, biting genki girl without any lead-up or introduction. No wonder the genki girl got a bit confused...

    ¡°Since you¡¯re good at multitasking, you could try observing the enemy from two different viewpoints at once. You did watch us when you were spying¡­¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    ¡°...using just one eye, not both?¡±

    ¡°Hm. Well, yeah¡­ but I¡¯ve tried looking with both eyes at the same time before. Doesn¡¯t work, it¡¯s hard. I can¡¯t gauge distance properly.¡±

    ¡°Practice,¡± shrugged the bob-haired brunette, twirling a matryoshka keychain (she¡¯s got a thing for them, no idea why). ¡°There are a lot of things I can''t do right away either. Even Niren...¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± the other brunette waved her off casually. ¡°That guy knows and can do everything. He doesn''t even show half of what he''s capable of.¡±

    ¡°You think so?..¡±

    The two girls gave me a scrutinizing look. I was just doing pull-ups on the wall bars, so doing the exercise, holding the position, and keeping a straight face¡ªa brick-like one¡ªwas a bit tense.

    Setsuna mused aloud:

    ¡°Yeah, he gives off this vibe, you know¡­ like a big wolfhound that acts like, well, a fluffy pillow. But you¡¯re not fooled by it because you know it¡¯s a fearsome, mighty beast. Just a gentle one with his own.¡±

    Me, a wolfhound? That''s suspicious. Not good.

    In response to their looks, I yawned, finished my set of pull-ups, and lazily corrected:

    ¡°I¡¯m not gentle, Tsuna. You¡¯re done with your striking drills, I see? So a hundred reps per set isn¡¯t enough anymore? Fine, we¡¯ll increase the load.¡±

    The girl wasn¡¯t embarrassed at all and, instead of answering, challenged me to a duel again, which she lost with a particularly crushing score. She pouted and sat down on a stack of mats.

    Spoiler: Tsuna''s sulking lasted about three minutes. Tsuna-fish is quite healthy, you know.

    ¡­ by the way, I came up with another nickname specifically for our playful banter¡ªSetsundere.

    Tokage would huff, blush, and try to come up with something fitting for me, to throw back a retort, but nothing clever came out...

    ¡°I got it! I got it! Niren OHShoda!¡±

    Kodai giggled somewhere on the periphery.

    ***

    Of course, there were other things in our lives besides joint training. For instance, other training sessions... ahem.

    If someone asked me to describe my life during that period, I¡¯d just scratch my head and shrug silently. School... boring in its conservatism and the imperative nature of its lessons. The technology in this world has advanced far beyond my past, but schoolchildren here are still forced to attend concrete boxes, recite homework, take tests, write notes by hand, and so on. Where are the online conferences and computer-based testing, I ask you?! So much time wasted, ugh...

    Shortly after meeting Setsuna, I asked her about interesting people¡ªanyone she or maybe her mom had heard of.

    Actually, only a few people caught the girl''s attention: first, a very strong guy who controls the air (I have no idea who she meant), and second, the owner of a quirk with a literal zombie virus that infects everyone in its path, making them stronger.

    It''s frightening to think about what such a person could do if he were a fool or insane. And it''s also terrifying to think about how the government would regulate his quirk if he became a hero.

    There was also some round honor student who could turn into a huge beast¡­ and another one who was just as much a martial arts enthusiast as Mashirao, but with some other body mutation.

    Two of them were also recommended to U.A. High, just like her, by the way.

    I also met her mom, speaking of which. A hot - I mean it - office lady with a thick ponytail of dark green hair, wearing a skirt and high heels. If the daughter turns out like that, then¡ªoh...

    But alas, whether fortunately or unfortunately, Setsuna studied in another district, so she didn''t have many opportunities to please my eyes or brighten my leisure time with her antics.

    And generally, it was hard for us to meet anywhere other than training sessions¡ªflying more than half a kilometer was difficult for Tokage on daily basis, getting up early and running like Yui and I did was very hard for her, and flying along, dangling behind us like a bunch of balloons was even harder¡­ Despite all her talent, I¡¯d say she lacked discipline. Plus, she was a morning sleepyhead, that¡¯s for sure.

    But the main reason was simply that she didn''t have enough time to recover due to the enormous loads, even despite her frightening regenerative abilities. Also, running and flying didn¡¯t quite fit into her schedule, since unlike us, she also had tutors¡ªafter all, the entrance exams at U.A. High are no joke.

    It was enough that I convinced her to float stealthily back and forth to class, a few dozen centimeters off the ground, so the police enforcing the ¡°No Quirks in Public Places¡± law wouldn¡¯t nitpick.

    And in general, the expression ¡°getting oneself together to go to school.¡± in Setsuna¡¯s case takes on a whole new meaning.

    A literal one.

    However, occasionally the three of us managed to carve out a few hours for ourselves¡ªto drop by a cafe and discuss a good book or catch a movie at the theater. Oh, right.

    A funny¡ªfor me¡ªstory came out of our trips to the movies. We went to a few blockbusters in the evening. Yui yawned and tried to fall asleep, I was lost in my thoughts, watching for any hypothetical surveillance, and entertaining myself with thoughts about how to evacuate civilians in case of a fire, while Setsuna watched the movie, laughed, screamed, and got scared enough for the three of us.

    In general, everything as usual.

    And then, one time, the four of us went with Akari to see a horror film. A typical horror (with a sixteen-plus rating) about all things paranormal, specifically something like "The Ring" from my old world, but based on popular Japanese urban legends about Kuchisake-Onna. A ghost.

    Specifically, a vengeful evil spirit of a beautiful black-haired woman, disfigured and brutally murdered by a jealous husband. Her distinguishing feature is that she covers her face with a surgical mask or scarf, on which a "smile" from ear to ear is carved with a knife (hello, Nolan¡¯s Joker!). And she asks everyone she meets if she is beautiful, and if she doesn''t like the answer, she decapitates the victim with large scissors.

    Japanese people have strange imaginations.

    Anyway, our cool, in every sense, cat girl Akari and our Setsuna hit it off instantly, and the result was explosive... you know, like the tail of a rattlesnake.

    The one that rattles.

    And they rattled nonstop.

    Yes, Setsuna infected me with bad puns, but that¡¯s not the point.

    The point is, after that not-so-scary horror movie, Setsuna¡­ got inspired.

    As you might guess, she''s an impulsive and easily carried-away girl, and it suddenly dawned on her that her quirk was practically made for creating special effects for horror movies¡ªand for pranks in real life.

    So, for the next few months, this little devil didn¡¯t let anyone live in peace.

    First of all, in light of this new enthusiasm, Setsuna stopped dyeing her hair and returned to being a brunette¡ªhow else could she cosplay "The Ring" with that creepy image of a woman with hair over her face?

    "Don¡¯t even start, Tsuna, women with mustaches are an acquired taste," I replied back then.

    Second, levitation allowed her to move in the most unnatural ways, whether it was crawling up walls, across the ceiling, or even along the floor¡ªback down.

    Attaching her arms and legs backward, that¡¯s third.

    And fourth, the ability to control her "puzzles" from different places simultaneously... Here you had hands suddenly scratching at the window, a face falling apart before your eyes, eyes in a jar blinking sadly at you, a headless corpse quartered and generously covered in ketchup, and finally, some ghost in the corridor, with almost nothing under the sheet.

    You look indignantly at Setsuna at that moment, and she only looks back in mock horror, like, ¡°Not me, I swear!¡± And then her goofy head starts turning all three hundred and sixty degrees.

    There was a lot of screaming, in short...

    In other words, life took on a whole new palette of colors.

    Yui rolled her eyes in exasperation and hid behind a book, my acquaintances, and especially Setsuna¡¯s, would howl and climb the walls, while I... I was as happy as a clam. I always loved horror and always loved pranks.

    They keep you on your toes, you know.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Her Funniess Setsuna Tokage¡ªin her canonical purple suit, with her natural hair color, and in all her scaly glory.

    The legislative act regulating superpowers¡ª¡°No Quirks in Public Places.¡±

    Kuchisake-Onna. Cute art.

    Less cute art. We won''t continue this trend, but you get the idea)

 Episode 7. Part VII.

    In the future, while interacting with Setsuna Tokage, I became convinced of the accuracy of my assumptions about her character and talent.

    If we accept the axiom that my new world is indeed somewhat more than just the fantasy of a single manga artist... then the fact that Setsuna didn¡¯t make much of an impression at the festival¡ªlike not winning the race, for instance¡ªisn''t because that manga artist hadn¡¯t come up with her powers by that time or had simply forgotten about her, but instead takes on a greater... psychological depth.

    I believe she was simply terribly insecure during her studies, which is why she didn''t dare to do anything meaningful or risky. She didn''t put in the effort; she gave up. Yes, this so-called (by me) "small-town top student" syndrome, damn it. A person who¡¯s used to being one of the best without much effort¡­ when placed among peers just like themselves¡ªor even better¡ªthey either thrive, or they don¡¯t.

    Setsuna Tokage from World A didn¡¯t thrive. And if she did pull herself together, it was too late.

    And let¡¯s be honest¡ªfew would have thrived in her place, finding themselves on the same playing field as monsters like Midoriya with multiple quirks, or Bakugo with superhuman reflexes and explosions, or that guy who turns into a giant hairy beast, or the religious zealot Shiozaki with her multi-meter vine-like hair... not every pawn can make it to the end of the board and become a queen.

    What could she possibly do against any of them with her "useless" quirk?

    ... probably, that''s more or less what she thought in that reality.

    But we¡¯re here now.

    And gradually, her fragile teenage ego¡ªrooted in the praise of others, a sense of her own superiority, and her own insecurity¡ªwhich resulted in a constant need for challenges and victories, was replaced by a mature, measured, calm confidence in her abilities.

    A confidence backed by concrete experience and knowledge.

    Concrete knowledge that she is strong. Knowledge based not on the words of people who know nothing, but on dozens, hundreds, thousands of sparring sessions with tough opponents. Understanding.

    This Setsuna has already become a queen.

    Or a ferz, if you remember the history of Western chess, or even a dragon king, if you remember that we are, after all, in Japan, and here, shogi is in play...

    You get the point.

    After all, the girl was truly very talented¡ªfar more talented than me or Yui. She grasped techniques¡ªliterally¡ªon the fly, adapting and mixing styles from completely different martial arts, taking only the best from them thanks to the absence of anatomical limitations of any kind, training all day with us, and with Akira, and Mashirao, and elsewhere, and on her own.

    Tsuna... caught up to me in just six months.

    To ME.

    Without false modesty, a person who has been practicing martial arts for about fifteen to twenty years in total.

    Of course, she still lacked experience and skill, and she would continue to lack them for a long time, but...

    Believe me, that¡¯s not so important when you have an elbow flying at your head from the opposite end of the hall at superhuman speed¡ªMuay Thai style, a foot with the same kinetic energy slamming into your gut¡ªShotokan Karate style, and a detached hand on the right and an entire arm up to the shoulder on the left grabbing the collar of your tracksuit, trying to execute a classic throw¡ªfrom judo. A completely beaten-up tachi-waza, or rather, te-waza, meaning a throw from a standing position using the hands¡­ only without the damn standing position!

    And¡­ all these moves¡ªSIMULTANEOUSLY.

    With perfect synchronization in time and space.

    Something like that.

    ¡­ Maybe U.A. simply doesn¡¯t pay enough attention to honing individual talents on a personal basis.

    Or perhaps, in World A, they simply didn¡¯t get around to developing a training program for such a genius.

    In any case, in our last sparring session, where Setsuna got ¡°slightly¡± carried away and fought at full strength, I, honestly, was also forced to give it almost everything I had.

    Except I didn¡¯t use area marker placement.

    ***

    And the reason the future heroine and would-be assassin got carried away, I think, was because she thought I still didn¡¯t take her seriously.

    To which, after the sparring session, I sincerely replied:

    "Come on. If I didn¡¯t take you seriously, I wouldn¡¯t be training you."

    "Hmm..."

    "And, actually, in this fight, I was going all out..."

    "Liar! You were in control the whole time! I can see it written all over your smug face!" Tokage pouted and turned away towards the wall. The fact that she was slowly gathering herself back together, levitating without legs and missing half of her face, didn¡¯t bother her at all.

    I scrutinized my face in the window''s reflection.

    ¡°Looks fine to me, nothing written anywhere¡­¡±

    In response, Setsuna, chuckling (as you might have guessed, she gets over things quickly, yes), threw a basketball at me.

    For this undoubtedly important reason, the conversation was interrupted, as we began to find out who was the better player¡ªa fast flying person capable of replacing an entire team or a supernaturally fast, agile, and very strong solo player, making three-pointers from the opposite hoop (and sometimes even hitting!).

    ...but Yui won, intercepting the ball, shrinking it, and putting it in her pocket.

    It was already dark.

    It was time to clean up and go to sleep, as we all had an important task ahead of us tomorrow.

    ***

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    I don¡¯t know, or rather, I don¡¯t remember how the registration for the U.A. exams was shown in World A¡ªor if it was shown at all¡ªbut in my world, it turned out to be quite a lengthy and bureaucratic process.

    First, you had to register on the website of the Hero Schools Association of Japan, which, besides U.A., included schools like Shiketsu Academy, the second most prestigious school in the country, and their eternal rival Ketsubutsu Academy, and Isamu Academy, known for its extremely expensive and advanced technological support for students, and Seijin High School, which trains its students as ninjas (not very popular, but some fall for it; by the way, the recent rookie hero Kamui Woods is one of their graduates), and Seiai Academy, which trains its students as women, and... well, no one cares.

    After registering, you need to fill out an applicant application, which must include (consider this): a consent form from your parents or guardian for such a dangerous profession; a report card signed and stamped by your junior high school; results of an interview with the school psychologist; a health certificate meeting the requirements from a doctor; a high school diploma (which will be sent automatically by your school at the end of the year); as well as your thoughts on the design of your costume and necessary equipment and a certificate of online registration of your quirk on the Public Hero Safety Commission¡¯s website.

    It was the last part that I stumbled upon.

    And no, it¡¯s not that I wanted to hide something or didn¡¯t know how to describe its function! After all, this is fiction; a couple of lines of a brief description of the quirk¡¯s function in a schoolboy¡¯s clumsy language are hardly a reliable source of information about the quirk, and unfortunately, nothing more substantial can be expected due to the lack of a unified competent classification of abilities. Well, a thorough and professional description of my power will be made by specialists at U.A. (I¡¯m sure a copy will also go to the military somewhere under Tartarus, and to the International Quirk Registry Service, and probably to someone else).

    But there¡¯s something else... and it¡¯s very important...

    ¡°What should I name my superpower?!¡± I mentally screamed, trying to scrape together the remnants of my imagination.

    My imagination refused to be scraped together¡ªit wasn¡¯t helped by nearly twelve years of using my quirk, so expecting a sudden inspiration in the next few minutes would be odd. Nothing else was holding me back¡ªI even managed to scrape together something for a costume design.

    But as for the name¡­ I was completely stuck on that.

    ¡­ Once the registration is completed, the application submitted and accepted¡ªit¡¯s time to choose an entrance exam for a specific school.

    Well, it was obvious which one came first on the list.

    Although it should be noted that other schools had an acceptance rate of about seventy to eighty percent for applicants to the hero course, unlike U.A.¡ªwith its approximate fifteen percent (the official info was quite misleading about this one).

    However, all of this was largely an illusion and a facade of marketing, because U.A., as is known, only has two classes of professional hero training, and many of the eliminated students have the opportunity to move to support, marketing, or, especially, general education departments, from where they can transfer to the hero course privately. This is also a sort of test ¨C usually, the applicants with non-combat quirks are the ones filtered out during the exam, as it is generally much harder for them to become heroes.

    ¡­ Okay, the name of my quirk. I really need to settle this.

    ¡°Thank Kami-sama I don¡¯t have to come up with a superhero name right now, or I¡¯d end up with something like Kick-Man,¡± the thought flashed through my mind.

    Usually, people try to give quirks names that are clear and descriptive. Marketing, promotion, salary, fans, ugh.

    But, of course, I wasn¡¯t planning on giving such a hint to potential enemies. I needed something that wouldn¡¯t immediately reveal the full nature of my quirk to any opponent or ally, only hinting at the fact of enhancement. Besides, I¡¯m trying to pass myself off as a typical owner of a typical enhancement quirk. Although a systematic classification of quirks doesn¡¯t exist, enhancement quirks that improve the user¡¯s physical parameters are widely recognized.

    Another option: if the effects of the quirk are inherited from the parents, some heroes combine the names of their parents¡¯ quirks. This is especially relevant for hero dynasties, where the father or mother, or even a grandparent, were famous heroes, like in the case of Ingenium. The combination of my parents¡¯ quirks, considering my mother¡¯s Timer, didn¡¯t appeal to me at all.

    Oh, and another important point: the name of a quirk must be unique. That¡¯s quite a headache, as it means that at any given time, there can only be one professional hero in Japan with a quirk named, say, ¡°Brick.¡± If the hero retires, ends up in prison, or dies in action, ¡°Brick¡± becomes available to the next hero...

    Well then.

    First, I checked the simplest and most straightforward options: ¡°Impulse,¡± ¡°Echo,¡± ¡°Marker,¡± ¡°Enhancement,¡± ¡°Super Strength,¡± and so on.

    Unfortunately, as expected, they were all taken. I wasn¡¯t particularly upset by this, but, unfortunately, my imagination ran dry after that.

    After rolling the problem around in my head from different angles, I gave up and turned to my unimaginably distant and carefree past. Video games!

    What about ¡°Double Damage,¡± hmm?

    Taken, sadly.

    How about ¡°Double Jump¡±? Or ¡°Rocket Jump¡±? Clearly, no one would get the reference, but¡­

    Nope.

    Speaking of references: how about calling myself ¡°Batman¡±? Why Batman? Because I¡¯m Batman! Right?

    ¡­ How is that taken?! It¡¯s not even a quirk name; it¡¯s a superhero name!

    Hmm, alright.

    How about ¡°Critical Hit¡±? Seriously, what could sound cooler?

    Tch, that¡¯s taken too.

    And when I saw that even the old-school and clever ¡°twenty five FPS¡± was already taken, despite the technological superiority of this world, I was genuinely stunned.

    Apparently, I¡¯m not the only geek around here.

    After discarding some really dumb ideas like ¡°Combo Breaker,¡± ¡°Bunny Hopping,¡± and ¡°Ganking,¡± I turned to my memory of one of my favorite games from my real childhood. There, the phrase ¡°Can I raise it higher?¡± was uttered in an unusually annoying voice¡­

    Combat¡­ no. Make it even more epic!

    ¡°Battle Multiplier.¡±

    Oh, this one is available!

    Maybe I could even use that as my hero name later¡ªMultiplier? I¡¯ll multiply my opponents by zero...

    Or maybe I should try something boring and bland like ¡°Double Impact¡±?

    I typed this one reluctantly.

    But no, that¡¯s a silly name¡ªit gives away too much about my ability. I bet my alter ego from World A picked a name like that.

    I was about to go back to Multiplier, click the X, and submit the application when a thought popped into my head... let¡¯s call it a prank idea.

    I mean, I¡¯m generally a serious person, thoughtful and all that, but... well, if Setsuna¡¯s out here pranking everyone around her, why should I be any different?

    As far as I know from the information on the academy¡¯s website, one of the subjects at U.A. is the ethics and image of professional heroes, taught by Midnight. Alongside art history, yep. All the teachers there have two subjects¡ªa specialized one and a general education one.

    So, if I pick something frivolous that damages the image of a professional hero, they¡¯ll definitely make me change it. Right?

    But, on the other hand, it¡¯s unlikely that my application review will reveal any violations. It¡¯s probably automated, so it should easily let a harmless joke through.

    Which means I can have some fun and write something pretty silly.

    I felt a smirk creeping onto my face and carefully replaced ¡°Impact¡± with another word¡ª¡°Penetration.¡±

    Well, let¡¯s wait and see what happens when we present our quirks in class. A kind of delayed-action mine, hehe.

    ***

    Our registrations all went smoothly.

    Though there were plenty of ¡°Niren, help, what do you think, how should I try?¡± Only instead of trying on dresses, it was different quirk names.

    Yui didn¡¯t come up with anything from scratch and named her quirk ¡°Size,¡± thinking more about what costume design she wanted and what heroic name to choose. Well, she¡¯s a girl¡ªwants to be fashionable and beautiful, but also my ¡°student,¡± meaning she wants functional and effective equipment. It¡¯s a non-trivial task; Yui had recently been spending a lot of time with a sketchbook for her costume and was quite reluctant to show her ideas. I got the impression that if a career as a hero didn¡¯t work out for her, she wouldn¡¯t be lost as a fashion designer¡ªthe contrast between her sketches and my chicken-scratch silhouettes was striking.

    As I later found out, she quietly changed her quirk¡¯s name without telling anyone until the right moment.

    And then there was Setsuna among us. At first, Setsuna wanted to name her quirk ¡°Self-Amputation¡± and call herself ¡°Reptilia¡± or "Lizard Girl." Because of the costume¡¯s lizard-like skin and her ability somewhat resembling a lizard¡¯s ability to lose and regrow tails.

    However, after talking with me, talking with Yui, and most importantly, watching a ton of horror movies, she reconsidered and thought deeply about it. For example, names like ¡°Puzzle,¡± ¡°Stained Glass,¡± and ¡°Mosaic¡± were considered¡ªbecause her quirk, when called ¡°Constructor¡± or ¡°Puzzle,¡± indeed had features similar to something like ¡°Lego.¡± It¡¯s also about creating a battle pattern, full control of the space, deceiving the opponent¡­

    My suggestion of ¡°Scatterbrain,¡± which I irritably proposed after being splashed with water during one of the latest pranks, she, for some reason, didn¡¯t like.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Friends, both in canon and certainly with me :)

 Episode 7. Part VIII.

    ¡°Niren, could I ask you to go somewhere with me after classes?¡±

    I looked up from one of the reports about the recent lockdown in Naruhata, a district of Tokyo, which I was reading on my phone.

    I don¡¯t understand anything.

    It seems like they took down a villain there, even several, and a few well-known professional heroes were involved, including Eraserhead (who didn¡¯t appear among the widely recognized heroes, just showed up among others, but I know who this future instructor of mine is and what he is capable of), and a terrorist threat was eliminated, but¡­

    The pieces just don¡¯t add up.

    I couldn¡¯t understand the causes of the conflict, nor how such monsters could have remained out of my sight, nor how it was ultimately resolved. I understand that the report is from someone else''s perspective, maybe even a reporter¡¯s fabrication or just a rumor, but damn, I need to be in control of all such information!

    Moreover, the central figure in the events¡ªa vigilante named Koichi Haimawari, who, due to some complicated political maneuvers, quickly immigrated to America as Captain Celebrity¡¯s sidekick (another monster)¡ªleft a very ambiguous impression¡­

    On the one hand, I read the report and, moreover, saw how the guy, on his own, caught and stopped A PLANE.

    A plane, damn it.

    A falling one. Big. White.

    Well, good for him, of course, and I¡¯m happy for those who survived the averted catastrophe, but¡­

    I doubt I¡¯ll ever be capable of such a feat¡­ like most of the U.A. students, except perhaps Midoriya himself, the story¡¯s protagonist, and even then¡ªonly thanks to his additional quirks, of which he has plenty. Catching planes like Superman did in the movies from my past world is impossible, any student who slept through their strength of materials classes will explain that clearly.

    However: all of them, the U.A. students, will be studying there. And I probably will, too. At least my much less prepared alter ego from World A studied there.

    And at the same time, we have a true quirk genius, who, judging by the information from interviews, several reports, and heated discussions on a couple of forums, is not only capable of flying, catching planes, and landing them successfully, but also creates long-range attacks, possesses a powerful barrier-type defense, accelerated reflexes, unmatched speed, and so on and so forth¡­

    You get it, right?

    It''s like another protagonist of the story, even cooler than Midoriya. Surrounded by invincible plot armor from all sides.

    And yet, he couldn¡¯t become a professional hero in his homeland!

    Interpreting his recent vigilantism in any other way is just impossible. Come on, they take anyone into heroism whose guardians sign liability waivers. You can be honest with yourself in private.

    So, this Koichi tried¡ªand couldn¡¯t make it.

    But how?! How could government services, the Commission, the army, and the hero academy agents miss such a gem? He didn¡¯t become such a monster overnight!

    That doesn¡¯t happen.

    So, it must be someone¡¯s scheme. I just can¡¯t figure out whose. Maybe Japan and the U.S. are once again highlighting their friendship on the political stage? But why then? Our strongest hero (also the strongest hero in the world) goes on extended business trips there almost every year, and their strongest hero, an American, is a pupil and comrade of All Might. I¡¯m talking about ¡°Star and Stripe,¡± by the way. A real warrior woman, seriously.

    However! On the other hand! As I said, I saw an interview with this guy, right after he saved the plane. He doesn¡¯t speak English very well, that¡¯s a fact. But even accounting for that¡­

    He seemed a bit of an idiot, to be honest.

    In some sense¡ªa typical shounen hero.

    Still, this aligns well with the forum¡¯s hypothesis about his quirk¡¯s subconscious nature. A real ¡°genius.¡± Maybe he didn¡¯t become a hero simply because he failed the written exams at U.A.? I have no other explanations.

    And finally, what added to my irritation was that a genius like Skycrawler¡ªa genius impossible to miss¡ªwas not in my memories. Not a single mention.

    ¡­or was he, just briefly?

    How would I even remember now?! Sometimes, I even question whether that anime existed at all and if I¡¯m really living a second life. It¡¯s not just the events of my past life I¡¯ve started to forget, but my native language itself. If it weren¡¯t for the decade-old notebooks filled with my notes¡­

    In short, I don¡¯t understand anything.

    The last time I was this perplexed was when one of my favorite heroines, Lady Nagant, was suddenly sentenced to a long-term imprisonment in Tartarus¡ªJapan¡¯s ¡°anti-quirk¡± prison for particularly dangerous criminals.

    Not that I didn¡¯t understand that a professional, high-class hero, capable of literally creating an armor-piercing rifle from her body, murdering several heroes and some ¡°high-ranking individuals,¡± could lead to any other outcome¡­ but damn.

    Anything could have happened to her¡­ damn. The excuses sound pathetic, and yet¡­

    Given her quirk, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if some covert spy organizations used Nagant as a hitman. And then, having made her the scapegoat, they buried all traces.

    But I didn¡¯t like her because of that¡ªnot because of her quirk, nor her appearance (though I should note she was very much my type).

    I liked her because, in the few interviews with her, she demonstrated exactly the same personality traits that I cultivate in myself: meticulousness, critical thinking, attentiveness, calmness¡­ using every advantage and preparing in advance for any opponent.

    So why do the idiots get lucky, and the cold, rational minds end up behind bars?

    Could something similar be awaiting me at some point?

    ¡°Earth to Niren, come in!¡±

    I blinked a few times and shook my head, shaking off the thoughts and trying to remember what I had been asked:

    ¡°Sorry, Matryoshka. Got lost in thought. So¡­ where do you want to go? If it¡¯s important, I can skip my training,¡± I¡¯m really glad we can talk without any honorifics.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say it¡¯s important, but for us, it¡¯s useful, honestly. Maybe for you, too. What exactly¡ªit¡¯s a secret,¡± Kodai smiled slightly and got up from the edge of my desk, where she had sat while trying to get my attention. ¡°Just dress in sportswear.¡±

    ***

    And you know what?

    It turned out that Yui had been attending unofficial parkour meetups for six months!

    Impossible woman.

    Right now, since it was winter, we were at an indoor ¡°training ground,¡± specially equipped for workouts and freerunning. But she said they also have several outdoor spots in the city, and even an approved route with the authorities.

    A really cool idea, honestly. Firstly, though not for all of us, but for many future heroes who need to move quickly across urban, uneven terrain, it will be a valuable aid. And secondly, for the previous reason, it¡¯s a great place to make useful connections!

    It goes without saying that Yui, with her method of moving through the city using whatever was at hand, would find it relevant. For me? Not so much. I already have great control over my body, my speed is decent, my agility is top-notch, and I don¡¯t need any auxiliary devices. I¡¯ll manage; besides, I don¡¯t have any free time, and I¡¯m just training to maintain my form out of habit. There¡¯s not much left to learn, and the rest should be taught at U.A. As for Setsuna? The answer is obvious.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    My thoughts were interrupted by someone shouting rudely in the distance. I looked¡­

    What a coincidence!

    Guess who I saw there?

    A blonde guy, not particularly Asian-looking, with an afro hairstyle, spiky explosion type, about 1.6 meters with a cap, in a black tank top, doesn¡¯t drink but is wiry and angry as a devil from the underworld or a drunkard from the doorway.

    Oh, and he also throws everything he dislikes into the air with his quirk, which creates explosions.

    And he dislikes just about everything.

    Hmm¡­ I wonder if the blonde likes himself since he¡¯s trying to fly with those explosions? Maybe he secretly hates himself, and every flight is a hidden act of masochism and self-humiliation?

    Never mind. That guy is Katsuki Bakugo, and let¡¯s hope he¡¯s my future classmate. By the way, the interview about the school hostage mentioned him specifically.

    Despite his character and rejection of the values of modern civilized society, which focuses on a positive marketing image, he also aspires to become a professional hero¡­

    And he¡¯s doing a lot for that, by the way: for example, he¡¯s last year¡¯s regional parkour champion, as Yui told me. She¡¯s been gathering information about all possible competitors for the U.A. entrance exam recently.

    I don¡¯t interfere. I know what the entrance test will be like, but that¡¯s just me¡­ and how can I be sure it will be exactly as I remember? I can¡¯t. Besides, her initiative is quite reasonable.

    ¡°Useful,¡± I nodded in response to Yui¡¯s questioning look.

    She inclined her head in satisfaction and returned to watching the performance attentively.

    For the past year and a half, I replaced my usual morning run with moving through rough terrain using my quirk. Breaking the law, alas¡­ so it was also training in not only speed and agility but stealth. The rare police officers weren¡¯t a threat, nor was the crime, which had calmed down considerably in my prefecture since All Might¡¯s return. However, hero sidekicks patrolling the city, as well as the police themselves, occasionally forced me to disappear off the radar by jumping into an alley.

    Or just switching to a regular run.

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve been noticed yet, nor have I attracted anyone¡¯s attention.

    So I decided not to draw any eyes at the meetup either. It seems the habit of being cautious has ingrained itself in my personality.

    I completed a few courses, nothing too difficult.

    In principle, all of this was familiar to me and not particularly strenuous¡ªI had a bit of parkour experience in my previous life, thanks to plenty of free time in university, the abundance of typical buildings, parks, and abandoned spots in the surrounding post-Soviet environment, and the Frenchman David Belle¡¯s philosophy of ¡°Natural Method¡± always held a romantic allure for the youth.

    And after nearly thirty combined years of practicing various martial arts, athletics, and gymnastics, you just see that parkour is based on the same principles and logic.

    But there was a catch. Not using my quirk¡ªand using it in public places without a license was still not allowed (there were even a couple of professional heroes at the meetup as observers)¡ªwas an interesting experience. Due to the mechanics of my ability, this bothered me very little, as I generally moved using my own muscular strength, with the only noticeable effect being on speed.

    But for Bakugo, or Yui, or that ice guy¡ªit was a big deal. At least that¡¯s what it seemed like from a distance when the top ten (or bravest) parkour practitioners were competing on the main course.

    Katsuki moved really well. I don¡¯t know if someone trained him, or if he¡¯s naturally talented, but his coordination and motor skills¡ªmy respect. He finished¡­ second. First place went to some half-gecko guy who was using his tail to its fullest and freely sticking to any surface. I wouldn¡¯t have liked such disregard for the competition rules.

    Blondie didn¡¯t like it either, so he knocked the gecko off with an explosion, and the white-haired devil got a reprimand from the alarmed heroes.

    Yui came in about sixth, which was quite a decent result, by the way. I¡¯m not even sure I could have finished faster.

    I wonder how Mashirao would have done? I need to drag him here next time, maybe we¡¯ll have a new champion, especially since mutations are allowed¡­

    In summary, I was pleased with the trip. Yui doesn¡¯t suggest pointless things, I broke up the routine, and I got food for thought.

    It¡¯s just a pity that I couldn¡¯t evaluate Bakugo¡¯s movements together with his quirk. I have a suspicion that he and I are similar in that regard, meaning I might have been able to pick up something useful from this ¡°natural talent.¡±

    But it¡¯s not a big deal. I¡¯ll have time¡­

    ***

    A week before the critical moment¡ªthe final exams, after which the countdown would begin to the entrance exams¡ªSetsuna called me and asked me to come to her school.

    The ¡°official¡± reason for her request was that it was her turn to clean the classroom (to my reasonable question, ¡°What kind of problems could you possibly have with quickly tidying up a classroom?¡± she responded with, ¡°Oh, please, Niren,¡± and after glancing at my schedule, I agreed again. After all, it¡¯s not often my friends ask me for anything). The real reason was a bit of a mystery, although I had a few ideas.

    This all took place in early February¡ªfinal exams, like the graduation itself, were practically around the corner, and most students were more excited, noisy, and boisterous than usual.

    It was easy to spot those planning to apply for the hero course: they were deeply engrossed in preparing for the entrance exams (like the one at U.A., which takes place on the twenty-sixth of February, for example), hastily improving their physical condition with resistance bands and dumbbells, not participating in the general chaos, and often realizing with surprise (and horror) that school was almost over.

    And yes, at my insistence, my friends had to skip celebrating my birthday on the second of February. We had no time for that.

    As for the birthday of the calm brunette with a bob, which was in mid-December, it went about the same¡ªwe barely managed to spend some time together at a pizzeria, just the four of us with Akari.

    But for the birthday celebration of the lively brunette with long, thick hair, which¡ªwho would have guessed!¡ªfalls on the thirteenth of October, we went to the movies to see another horror film. A typical American one that I only remember because of a creepy scene with night vision and a lawn mower.

    Well, just a side note.

    Neither my school nor Tsuna''s was an exception to the ¡°pre-graduation frenzy,¡± which I confirmed for myself as I walked through the cheerful hustle and bustle that filled them after most of the classes had ended. The students from the other school eyed me a bit because of my different uniform, but it wasn¡¯t a private school, and this wasn¡¯t my first visit to Setsuna¡¯s school, so everything was okay.

    I found Setsuna in the designated room; she was casually sitting on a desk (and hadn¡¯t started cleaning yet, the shameless one!), but with her back to the entrance, staring blankly out the window and clenching her fists. Just by the way her posture was so straight, I knew some serious conversation was awaiting me.

    I tactfully knocked on the doorframe, though I doubted she could have missed me.

    ¡°Oh, there you are¡­ Niren. Sorry for dragging you here. I wanted to talk. In private.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± I answered briefly, entering the room and closing the door behind me.

    I assumed the topic of conversation would be worthwhile, genuinely serious, and wouldn¡¯t involve any of those relationship things. Setsuna already knows me well and knows I prefer to avoid hints, lengthy preambles, and intrigues: if there¡¯s something to say, say it directly.

    So, there must be a reason.

    After waiting for me to lean against the windowsill, she tiredly looked me straight in the eyes¡ªI don¡¯t remember the last time I saw her looking so worn out, with bags under her eyes and all¡ªand said bluntly (there you go):

    ¡°I declined the recommendation to U.A.¡±

    I slowly nodded, silently and without breaking eye contact.

    Taking a deep breath, Setsuna Tokage turned back to the window. The sunlight played beautifully on her dark green hair, turning the girl, with the interplay of light and shadow, into a mosaic without any quirk.

    ¡°Mom was shocked. I thought long and hard, didn¡¯t sleep almost all night, and then in the morning, I argued with her¡­ but, I stood my ground for once!¡± she lowered her head, making an indistinct sound, half a chuckle, half a sob. Her thick hair hid her face for a moment, but when she tossed her bangs back, Setsuna was already smiling:

    ¡°To be honest, I only made it into the recommended students¡¯ list by some miracle. Remember when I lost my head during our sparring match and used everything I knew, and then some? I¡¯m sorry, I¡­ I snapped not just because¡­ well, you remember. But also because at that time, the exam for the recommended students was happening. Did you know about it? Of course you did¡­ but I didn¡¯t. Written test, somehow passed it, interview¡ªof course I aced that¡ªand the practical¡­ A stupid, primitive race, can you believe it? The top four with the best results pass. And I¡­ I came in fifth, can you believe that?¡±

    Setsuna spread her hands and then threw them up in a gesture of triumph:

    ¡°But I got lucky! Lucky that some weird guy, that wind user I told you about¡­ Inasa, I think, declined his spot. Just imagine,¡± she exclaimed and, unable to contain herself, jumped off the desk and started pacing around the classroom, ¡°coming in first place among ALL the recommended students! We are the best in academics, quirks, and physically... oh, whatever. Not us, Niren... there are monsters like you among them. And yet, I... I made it through. Me! I definitely should have been studying at U.A.! I was holding in my hands the proof of my future career as a professional hero, the proof of my... uniqueness. And it felt like a wonderful dream. That¡¯s how lucky I was!¡±

    After a pause, she stopped and pointed a finger in my direction:

    ¡°You know, when I met you after my disgraceful ¡®performance,¡¯ I initially thought about how fortunate I was that you¡­ that you and Yui didn¡¯t want to apply through recommendations for some reason. Not everyone applying to U.A. can be monsters like you, right? I just got unlucky meeting you¡­ but otherwise, I¡¯m also cool¡­ strong¡­¡±

    Setsuna chuckled bitterly and sank back onto the desk, exhausted:

    ¡°But then, after the exam¡­ that¡¯s when it finally hit me. They can. And they will be. And at that moment, I thought: what kind of strength do I have if I¡¯m always relying on luck?¡±

    I nodded again and felt imaginary paternal tears well up in my eyes. They grow up so fast!

    Meanwhile, the girl got fired up again and jumped off the desk:

    ¡°No. No! I want to be truly strong. And confident! Strong and confident enough so that luck doesn¡¯t decide everything for me! And for that, I need a foundation. As you said, I need concrete achievements. And victories.¡±

    She stopped again next to me and looked me in the eyes once more:

    ¡°That¡¯s why I declined¡­ to get in on equal terms and prove to myself and everyone else that I¡¯m cooler than a hard-boiled egg, that¡¯s what! ¨C and here she for some reason glanced around and lowered her voice, asking: ¡°I didn¡¯t do something stupid, did I? Niren, please, dear, tell me I didn¡¯t do something stupid¡­¡±

    I smiled and silently shook my head.

    Let¡¯s just feel sorry for the robots at the exam.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    In conversation. Embarrassed? Flirting? Plotting something cunning? With Setsuna Tokage, you never know for sure.

    Koichi Haimawari, the protagonist of the spin-off, the hero of Naruhata, and just a completely unjustified, in my opinion, overpowered character.

 Episode 7. Part IX. [END OF VOLUME ONE]

    When we finished cleaning up¡ªand, honestly, there wasn¡¯t much work to do¡ªand were about to leave, the girl leaned against me (as much as you can say ¡°leaned¡± considering both her arms were missing up to the deltoids while she carried a bag of trash and cleaning supplies) and nudged me gently in the shoulder, looking up at me from below.

    ¡°What?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but smile. She can be cute when she wants to.

    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to ask: why are you so driven, Niren?¡±

    I frowned, searching for the right words.

    Setsuna continued, speaking hurriedly and clearly losing confidence with each sentence:

    ¡°If I¡¯ve more or less figured out Yui¡¯s motives, and I¡¯m familiar with the interests of most of the other kids¡ªthey¡¯re probably not much different from mine until recently¡ªI still don¡¯t understand what drives you. Such dedication, but¡­ Sorry if I¡¯m prying into something I shouldn¡¯t¡­ but we¡¯re friends, so I thought¡­ right?¡±

    ¡°Of course, we¡¯re friends. We¡¯ve been through so much together¡­¡±

    ¡°So much?¡± she widened her eyes.

    ¡°Cleaning one classroom, Tsuna,¡± I nodded seriously. ¡°Things like that bring people closer.¡±

    The girl giggled and, gathering herself together, spun gracefully out into the hallway like a ballerina. From my reaction, she probably realized that she wouldn¡¯t get any childhood trauma stories or personal details from my answer.

    And that¡¯s how it was.

    ¡°You know, maybe¡­ I just want to be ready. For the future. Whatever it might be.¡±

    We walked calmly through the school¡¯s halls. A group of students in blue blazers hung out further down the corridor, but otherwise, it was pretty deserted.

    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡±

    Evening was falling. From the windows on the left, the sunset light poured in like a fiery river, making it seem like a fire was starting in the school.

    ¡°You know, maybe¡­ it¡¯s just a defense mechanism. I¡¯ve never been able to sit around doing nothing or lie on the couch all day when there¡¯s¡­ well, a sort of Sword of Damocles hanging over you. A threat. You can always hide from the fears of a dark future and doubts about your own decisions in monotonous, repetitive, hard work.¡±

    And I gave a slight smile, showing that I wasn¡¯t speaking too seriously. We were almost at the group of kids chatting ahead, possibly even her classmates, so I hoped Setsuna would get distracted.

    I wasn¡¯t ready yet to talk about my knowledge of the future, let alone the phenomenon of reincarnation. Maybe I never would be.

    But Tokage frowned anyway:

    ¡°A threat?¡±

    ¡°You know, maybe¡­¡±

    I briefly considered whether I should tell her about the quirk singularity theory¡­

    But then I noticed something troubling up ahead and quickly picked up my pace.

    From a distance, I¡¯d already spotted a girl, a smiling and sweet blonde with a medium-length haircut. The boys were openly staring at her, and from what I could hear¡ªdistant whistles and subdued laughter¡ªsome of them were making borderline inappropriate comments. The girl clearly seemed too well-mannered to tell the rude boys off.

    But my intuition, just looking at her, screamed ¡°Danger! Dangerous opponent!¡± even before I noticed how she was standing. And then, when I unintentionally started walking faster, I realized: perfect positioning relative to the crowd and the main entrances and exits of the building; a subtly braced support leg; extraordinary fluidity of movement; one hand always kept close to her slightly open, girlish, cute backpack; never breaking eye contact with her target¡­

    The girl smoothly and inconspicuously moved out of most people¡¯s sight, edged closer to the boy who was distracted by conversation, and her right hand slipped toward a weapon in her backpack¡­

    I got there just in time and stopped her hand at the last moment.

    The tightly clenched hand stung with pain; perhaps the instrument of revenge¡ªor justice?¡ªwas a kitchen knife. Or a letter opener?

    Well, at least it wasn¡¯t a gun; that¡¯s something.

    Whatever it was, my body had been moving almost on its own up until now, and only now did my brain kick in to start sorting things out. Oh¡­

    ¡°Don¡¯t do it,¡± I said in a low voice, trying not to attract the attention of the other kids in blue uniforms who were engrossed in their conversation about graduation. Well, of course, they were.

    My mind raced, registering the tiniest details.

    The girl gasped softly but quietly, looking at me with wide eyes. She didn¡¯t look aggressive or, for that matter, dangerous at all.

    Even more so: it looked so natural that I even wondered if I had just imagined her professionalism. Really, where could such skills have come from in an ordinary schoolgirl, after all?

    And I couldn¡¯t check what exactly I was holding in my hand; that would definitely attract attention, and while I could probably talk my way out of it, the girl¡ªif I was right¡ªmight face ostracism and a worsening of her situation. But I couldn¡¯t prove anything either.

    Damn, how did I manage to step in it for no reason¡­

    But we¡¯re still in the real world. A world where school bullying still exists, where there are still winners and losers, where sexual harassment is still a thing, where natural selection, hormonal development, puberty, and social interactions are further complicated by quirks¡­

    And it¡¯s not like I care about minor school squabbles¡ªshe¡¯s not going to kill him here¡­ but in a caste-like Japanese society, this incident could very well ruin her life.

    So maybe right now, I¡¯m going to look like a blabbering fool, shooting blindly into thin air¡ªbut I need to take precautions. Just in case. If there¡¯s even a small chance that this will save someone¡ªit doesn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s herself or her victim¡ªI¡¯ll intervene if all that¡¯s at stake is a few minutes of embarrassment and apologies.

    Am I a hero or not, after all? My usual motto.

    Aiming to get into U.A., which trains heroes, and passing by without preventing a disaster would be, at the very least, cynical and hypocritical.

    So I opened my mouth, dry in an instant:

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that guy did to you, but¡­ don¡¯t do anything like this to him,¡± I whispered, nodding down at the unknown weapon (or ¡°weapon¡±) I was holding. ¡°This¡­ erm¡­ world is complicated, uncomfortable; it¡¯s not for everyone. Like you¡¯re different. Maybe you think you¡¯re alone, that people don¡¯t understand¡­ don¡¯t hear you¡­ being rude and hurting you¡­¡±

    A strange expression flickered in the girl¡¯s eyes, but¡ªsurprisingly, I hadn¡¯t noticed such talents for soul-saving speeches in myself before¡ªshe made no attempt to pull her hand away or scream. She just listened quietly.

    I took this as a good sign and continued my impromptu session of psychological help from Niren Shoda:

    ¡°But, you know, I¡¯m not like everyone else, either. And she isn¡¯t,¡± I bobbed my head toward Setsuna, who was tensely standing a couple of steps away from me. ¡°We¡¯re all alone, and none of us fit this world. And that¡­¡±

    The girl¡¯s facial features twisted, her lips spread into an unexpectedly cynical grin¡­ but I didn¡¯t let her say anything, interrupting with a soft voice, almost a pleading whisper:

    ¡°And that¡¯s okay! Even a good thing! Cos it makes things simple. Don¡¯t like the world? Become strong! If you¡¯re strong¡ªyou¡¯ll make YOUR place, and this world WILL suit you. Remember Cementoss, a hero and teacher at U.A. Academy, who looks like a concrete block. Was it easy to get through school until he was sixteen, looking like a living toilet tank? Don¡¯t think so. But now he doesn¡¯t give a damn because he became a hero. Strong.¡±

    Sparks of something appeared in the yellow eyes of my listener.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Kami-sama, I hope these are sparks of understanding, and I¡¯m not just spouting some meaningless bullshit but actually conveying my point. I hurried to finish before we got interrupted:

    ¡°Precisely because I don¡¯t like something in the world, I¡¯m applying to U.A. myself. And she is too,¡± I ignored a quiet ¡°Hey!¡± from the left. ¡°We decided we want to be strong and don¡¯t want to listen to others. You understand? The parents of my friend are against her becoming a hero; don¡¯t believe in her, but she kept preparing, and now I know for sure: she¡¯ll become a great pro, she¡¯s already strong! But what YOU do¡ªand decide¡ªis up to you. Not the people around, not rude guys, not family, not the quirk, but you. Forget their opinions; don¡¯t waste time and energy. What¡¯s important is only what you want¡ªto do and to achieve. Instead of blaming the world and giving up, just TRY to win first, oka¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± a voice called out from the side. A guy noticed I had my hand in the schoolgirl¡¯s bag.

    Tsk. Can I just finish speaking!

    ¡°And to win, play by the rules. If we¡¯re all alone, it doesn¡¯t matter where you¡¯re alone¡ªat the bottom of society or at the top where most people won¡¯t reach. Make the world accept you, and¡­¡±

    At this point, the great orator Niren Shoda was grabbed by the shoulder. I, not resisting, released my hand and stepped back a couple of steps.

    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s your deal here? Are you okay? What do you want from her? You okay?¡± The blonde girl¡¯s classmates fired off aggressive questions at me.

    I grimaced. This kind of attention was unwanted and unpleasant.

    And I¡¯d lost my voice.

    ¡°Calm down, guys, calm down, everything¡¯s okay!¡± Setsuna burst onto the scene. ¡°He¡¯s my senpai from another school, I asked him to come help me! Stop harassing him, or he¡¯ll refuse to help me! Come on, guys¡­¡±

    The ¡°guys¡± quieted down, but the looks they threw at me were far from friendly. A few pals and that guy approached the girl who had ¡°suffered¡± from me, forming an impromptu "shield" around her.

    ¡°I¡¯m leaving now. We¡¯ve settled everything, right?¡± I calmly smiled at the blonde, who was watching me. I never did learn her name, by the way (and why would I?).

    Then, showing my open, raised hands, I moved further down the corridor.

    A worried Tokage, hurriedly saying goodbye to her schoolmates, caught up with me and immediately bombarded me with questions, suspicions, admiration, dissatisfaction, and other emotions.

    I discreetly glanced at my palm. The scratch running across the abductor muscle of my pinky was barely visible, though a couple of drops of blood had surfaced.

    Maybe I did imagine it all?

    Well, if so, that was a very embarrassing fail, what can I say¡­

    I rambled on and on with three soul-saving speeches to a random poor girl¡­ I don¡¯t even remember the last time I talked this much. And why did I even decide she was lonely?

    I shook myself off.

    Well, what¡¯s done is done. In any case, I at least achieved one goal, and Setsuna completely forgot about the topic of our conversation.

    It¡¯s time for me to clear my head of unnecessary thoughts, too¡ªthe exams are in a week, and I need to do my best to get the highest score possible so that no small detail keeps me from getting into Class ¡°A¡±¡­ and to draft a training and diet plan for the next two weeks¡­ plan the trip to U.A.¡­

    ***

    Musical Accompaniment:

    https://soundcloud.com/akavien/someone-elses-house-slowed

    In the Same Place.

    Almost giving in to her emotions, the same girl, tilting her head slightly, watched the tall, blue-haired boy walking away down the corridor.

    ¡­ he had been gone for a while, and with him went another vaguely familiar schoolgirl with dark green hair. Her classmates were already trailing after them¡ªsome stood beside her, some started brushing off her backpack¡­ someone shook her shoulder insistently¡­ someone called her¡­ what was his name again¡­ the one she liked, the one she wanted to become¡­ Saito.

    She didn¡¯t need Saito anymore.

    She kept watching down the now-empty corridor.

    Then, almost reflexively, she licked the blood off the letter opener.

    The blood turned out to be¡­ good.

    Strong.

    Tasty.

    Right.

    Yes, "right" was the word.

    The taste of such blood in her mouth felt¡­ right. Something real and true, something so rich and vibrant, the way everything should be. Something she had been missing for so long, something she had probably been unconsciously yearning for all along.

    The girl grimaced slightly. She wasn¡¯t very good with words.

    And she also felt an overwhelming urge to use her quirk¡ªright here, right now!¡ªbut there was too little blood, just enough for a couple of seconds (and she felt disappointment at that). She knew a few seconds wouldn¡¯t be enough. You¡¯d just touch it, just begin to feel it, just start to understand what it¡¯s like¡­ and that would be it. You¡¯d just want more.

    And she didn¡¯t know enough about that blue-haired boy yet. Who is he? Where did he come from? She needed to find out, needed to learn more, but he was already gone¡­ he mentioned something about some academy¡­

    First, she needed to get to know him better.

    And besides, this wasn¡¯t the right place for using her quirk. People standing around, walking, watching¡­

    To be honest, she had already forgotten about her previous crush and all these unnecessary classmates around her. Why were they making so much noise?

    It was time to find a quieter place and think.

    The blonde recalled the recent conversation with the blue-haired tasty guy. Yes, that¡¯s what she would call him¡­ "Tasty Guy."

    Well, it¡¯s okay.

    She would meet him again. And this time, yes, yes, she would take more than just a few pathetic drops!

    She licked her lips and felt herself smiling.

    A genuine smile.

    People usually get nervous when she smiles genuinely.

    That¡¯s good.

    She felt the mask she had worn for years¡ªthe mask of a cheerful, reasonable, well-mannered, normal girl¡ªcracking and falling apart, letting the real her out. She hadn¡¯t felt this freedom in so long¡­ the freedom to be herself¡­ since childhood¡­

    But it didn¡¯t go quite like that. She just felt that she could no longer hold back, that she finally wanted to give in to the desire to be closer to what she liked, to possess what she liked, to be with the one she liked¡­ to be the one she liked¡­

    And suddenly, it turned out that what she liked wasn¡¯t near. And what was nearby¡ªshe glanced sideways at the frightened Saito¡ªwas no longer nearly enough.

    She reluctantly put the mask back on, or rather, what was left of it.

    So¡­ it¡¯s too early to be herself. Too soon. Just a bit longer¡­ she could endure. Just a little bit more.

    Pushing aside the pale classmates and slowly heading toward the stairs, the girl thoughtfully rolled a new idea around in her mind.

    The tasty guy said he was going to become a hero.

    Yes, all heroes, and everything built around heroes, had long irritated her deeply.

    But¡­ the guy¡¯s blood was tasty. Right.

    Yes, in the society as it is, there is no place for someone like her.

    But¡­ is that such a bad thing?

    Maybe she was just looking in the wrong place?

    Or rather, she was looking from the wrong side? She had been looking from the crowd, from the base of the mountain, from the darkness¡­ and complaining to herself about how dark it was here and how no one could see the true her, right? Nobody wants to see the true her.

    But perhaps¡­ she needed to look from the very top of that mountain instead? Makes sense, right? You see further from a height.

    And after all, the one who stands at the top stands so high that they block out the sun¡­ which means they aren¡¯t really seen, right?

    The sunlight, the shadows, all that stuff, all these things like public recognition and fame, they sort of hide the flaws of the one at the top, and he hides¡­ in plain sight.

    People even love him.

    The girl wanted to love¡ªand wanted to be loved.

    She had seen it many times on TV¡ªall these pathetic heroes in reality shows where they trash-talk each other and pull out¡­ what¡¯s it called¡­ dirty laundry, that¡¯s it. Or all those boring gossip pieces her mother reads in the tabloids¡­

    And yet, they¡¯re still Heroes. The sun, the glory at the top, all these shiny things hide their dirt. Yes.

    They shine so brightly, these trendy glamorous heroes, that their dirt isn¡¯t visible under the glitter.

    Or¡ªhow scary they are.

    And yes¡­ some¡ªnot many, but some¡ªheroes are also feared¡­

    She couldn¡¯t help but smile widely again.

    Seeing the letter opener in the hands of the maniacally grinning girl heading toward the school exit, a couple of junior high girls squealed and ducked back into the restroom.

    ¡­ just like her right now.

    The blonde froze for a moment.

    Yes. YES! That¡¯s it!

    Come to think of it, even among the heroes themselves, there are plenty of strange, scary, incomprehensible ones¡­

    And¡­ they often bleed, right?

    And if she stays close¡­ no one will say anything, right? And she could, just subtly¡­ Even if they do say something, she can always make it so no one will say anything ever again, right? As they say¡­ ¡°If you¡¯re not caught, you¡¯re not a thief,¡± right?

    And the tasty guy will be there too¡­

    Right now, she so desperately wants to be close, needs to be close, to be right there with him, right there, to BE HIM, which means she has to get there¡­

    What did he say?

    ¡°Make the world accept you¡­ huh?¡±

    Sounds¡­ very idealistic.

    Like all those disgusting¡­ slogans. And taglines.

    But¡­ if she¡¯s right about this shadow and mountain-top thing¡­ and can live well¡­

    If she no longer has to hide. To run. And to pretend¡­ to keep the mask on, the mask she¡¯s worn for years, the mask that¡¯s been so bothersome¡­

    And if there¡¯s a lot of tasty blood like that guy¡¯s¡­

    And the guy himself¡­

    Then¡­

    Then she will be there too.

    ¡­ and then she can finally truly become what she likes. To love, to be loved¡­ and to become what she loves. Again, and again, and again, and again!

    ***

    Himiko Toga, for that was the name of the girl, absentmindedly tucked the letter opener into the garter of her stockings, typed ¡°U.A. Academy¡± into a search, and stared thoughtfully at her phone.

    [END OF VOLUME ONE]

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Himiko Toga in her school years.

    Isn¡¯t she just adorable without those weird coils on her head¡­

    Interestingly enough: according to the wiki, her birthday is on the seventh of August, and she is sixteen when she appears in the canon storyline. Simple calculations show that yes, she is almost a year older than all the main characters, and yet, yes, when she was still in middle school (and appeared in this fic), she was fifteen¡ªbecause in Japan, the school year starts

    n?o?t? ?l?i?k?e? ?f?o?r? ?n?o?r?m?a?l? ?p?e?o?p?l?e? not on, say, the first of September like in China and Russia, or the fifteenth of August like in America, but on the sixth of April.

    So she most likely was in the same class (ninth grade) as Niren, Yui, Setsuna, Midoriya, Bakugo, etc., right before the events of the canon.

    Smile, you¡¯re being screenshotted!

    The very metaphorical "mask" mentioned at the end of the chapter, and the yandere girl herself¡ªamong her noisy classmates, who were all excited about (graduation!) something.

    And, well¡­ the letter opener that Niren fighted with.

    By the way, the First Blood in the fic!

 Episode 8. "Leap of Faith." Part I. [VOLUME TWO]

    One of the main things recommended during the preparation period for important exams is maintaining a routine.

    This is especially true on the day of the exam itself.

    So, I got up at my usual time, which is four-thirty in the morning, did some stretching, and went for a run through the still dark, nearly deserted city.

    I actually enjoyed running alone.

    However, both the Japanese in general and runners, in particular, tend to wake up early, so I was probably never truly alone. To run solo, you¡¯d practically have to wake up before three, which would be too much even for me.

    It was chilly, my breath escaping in small white clouds...

    Afterward, I rinsed off, got ready, wished a good morning to my yawning father, grabbed his wish of good luck, a cup of coffee, and a couple of multi-grain toasts¡ªprobably the only one in my prefecture who eats those¡ªthen hopped on a commuter bus that runs from Hamamatsu to the neighboring city of Musutafu, heading to U.A. Academy to take the exam.

    The time was five minutes to six in the morning.

    February twenty-sixth.

    I caught the sunrise as I boarded the bus...

    Another thing often advised before a significant test is to visit the test center in advance, enter the auditorium or examination hall, and generally think through the logistics of the trip. Ideally, you should attend an open house at your prospective school.

    Naturally, I did all that, so I wasn¡¯t worried about possibly being late, even though I had left with a solid time buffer.

    Seeing U.A. in person¡­ was impressive, but more on that later.

    The journey was long, so I could have slept on the bus¡ªbut I didn¡¯t want to sleep, because the third (and most important) recommendation before a major exam is to rest beforehand. So, I dedicated yesterday entirely to hedonism and sybaritism, putting myself to bed ¡°just in time,¡± and spent the ride today alone with music, lazily observing the people around me and guessing who among them was headed to the same place.

    Finally, at eight-thirty-five, surrounded by other students in jackets, coats, and blazers, I stood before the enormous facade of the citadel of heroic knowledge.

    I stood, notably, alone¡ªYui and Tsuna were supposed to be dropped off by the latter¡¯s mom. Miss Tokage, as Yoko Tokage-san liked to present herself in a Western style, had persistently invited me to join them, but I declined, citing my pedantic quirks. Ha.

    On the vast grounds of the Academy, transport was prohibited, so all newly arrived applicants disembarked from buses, taxis, limousines, sports cars, and so on, then continued on foot regardless of their status. Accompanying persons were also not welcome¡ªit didn¡¯t matter whether it was a concerned parent or a personal bodyguard.

    All applicants were equal; there was a psychological undertone to this, you see.

    So there I stood, under the walls of U.A., alone.

    I stood, and¡­ I couldn¡¯t believe it. It almost brought me to tears, honestly. This damned day had finally come¡­

    So much preparation, so much effort, so much self-improvement, so many sacrifices put into this¡­ opportunity¡­ I almost got emotional, like a freshman girl during her first exams.

    Although I let my emotions run too soon¡ªI hadn¡¯t been admitted anywhere yet. Too soon, Niren.

    Closing my eyes, I counted to ten and spent a few extra seconds on a deep, deep breath. And exhale. And smiled widely.

    Here I come, future!

    ¡­ In the huge auditorium, resembling a Greek amphitheater, we met up with Yui¡ªstudents from the same school were seated together, so we naturally sat shoulder to shoulder. Everyone had their own number; I was number five thousand four hundred thirty-six, for example. More than ten thousand applicants from all over the country (and a few hundred from abroad)!

    Naturally, we wouldn¡¯t all fit in one hall, so there were three.

    Not far from us was a very excited Setsuna, and when Mashirao, who was sitting two rows away, waved at me with the tip of his tail, it became clear that we were grouped by cities and prefectures.

    In general, there were a lot of people, all extremely diverse, bright, and not always fully anthropomorphic. Among all these quirks, spotting my future classmates, whom I knew about, was impossible.

    However, I, luckily seated in the very back row, kept trying, and¡­

    Finally, spotting a familiar blonde spiky head to my left and a dissatisfied face, even from behind, I realized¡ªthis is it!

    Now I would see the protagonist of the story from World A, who would become the greatest hero!.. and all that¡­

    Next to a sullen Bakugo was a typical enthusiastic nerd with a mop of curly hair. The same green as Setsuna¡¯s, only brighter.

    To complete the image of a full-blown nerd, all that was missing were glasses with a couple hundred diopters. A sort of Peter Parker on a budget, Japanese version, no GMOs, but with a natural dye.

    I vaguely remembered that this guy reminded me of Spider-Man in the last season of the anime¡­ but how exactly, I have no idea. Oh well.

    In general, Izuku Midoriya, who would become one of the most powerful beings in the coming year, wasn¡¯t impressive in appearance.

    Blatantly scrawny, despite the intense training he was supposedly undergoing with All Might in recent months; completely socially unadapted, uncontrolled in his enthusiasm, constantly muttering to himself, covering his face with his hands and rocking like an orthodox Jew during prayer; timid, frequently casting fearful glances at his neighbor; his face was far from manly, his chin not at all determined (unlike the blonde next to him, for example)¡ªthe guy looked more like an awkward woman with big eyes.

    But there was at least one trait we shared fully¡ªjoy¡­ even genuine happiness about what was happening around us. About the heroes, about the Academy. About ourselves, who, thanks to hard work and a bit of luck, at this very moment could touch the divine¡­ or rather, the heroic.

    Which means I probably know how to get along with Izuku. That will be useful for both me and him.

    Considering that this world, up to this point, hadn¡¯t given me any reason to suspect its story significantly differed from the chronology of World A (aside from the fact of my reincarnation, of course)... one could be reasonably confident that this unremarkable guy would face all the challenges that came his way with honor, probably even better than a certain Niren Shoda.

    I smiled a little and turned toward the podium¡ªto listen.

    And there was someone to listen to¡ªon stage, a professional hero, Hizashi Yamada, also a teacher of foreign languages at U.A., also known as the Voice Hero: Present Mic, was stirring up the crowd and discrediting his own professionalism.

    ¡­ well, this is Japan, the country of extremes. And oddities.

    Unlike the rainbow-bursting Izuku, this clown didn¡¯t evoke any positive emotions in me, which is why I didn¡¯t listen to his pro-hero radio station either, preferring podcasts with charming blogger heroines. Like Midnight, yeah.

    ¡­ okay, honestly, I rarely found time to watch such things, preferring either a concise news summary or a chamber interview with someone like Nagan.

    However, I didn¡¯t have any negative feelings toward my future English teacher either¡ªthe guy was simply stuck, trapped in his own "stage" persona, the heroic image that Mic had crafted for popularity back in college.

    Speaking of "teaching English." For most civilians, the teachers at the Academy were really known as regular university professors, and it didn¡¯t even bother the average person that every single one of them was primarily a professional hero. Successful heroes! Famous ones! People were more interested in Midnight¡¯s new flashy costumes or rumors about another fling by Vlad King.

    Moreover, this subtle psychological trick reassured concerned parents, well, the simpler ones. Like my mom, forgive me, Kami-sama.

    However, in reality, these "regular" subjects took up barely a tenth of all academic hours. For instance, in addition to his English classes¡ªan international language is undoubtedly necessary for heroes¡ªMic also taught public speaking, oratory, how to evacuate nervous civilians from hotspots, how to give interviews without messing up like Skycrawler, how to conduct press conferences¡­

    Meanwhile, Mic was explaining our schedule for today.

    Both exams, theoretical and practical, take a total of two hours and ten minutes.

    First, we take the theoretical exam, a single but comprehensive test covering general education subjects, plus English. This standardized computer testing lasts one and a half hours and is conducted on computers in a dozen smaller auditoriums. It starts in fifteen minutes, by the way.

    I didn¡¯t remember anything like this from the anime, but expecting anything different from one of the most prestigious educational institutions in the world would be, to say the least, foolish.

    And I didn¡¯t expect it, having familiarized myself with the admission procedure in advance¡ªas any reasonable person would.

    Once we sorted out the sequence and schedule of testing, the introductory speech, more like a performance by a rather unattractive idol, moved on to the sweet part¡ªgiant! Humanoid! Robots!

    Okay, okay, not very human-like and not that big, but still. Indeed, the practical exam at U.A. Academy this year was supposed to last only ten minutes, match my memories and notes, and be a massive battle, wall to wall, between applicants and robots.

    It was implied that such an experience was supposed to show us, the future heroes, the full appeal of the career we had chosen¡ªbeating up the bad guys and being beaten up by them in return.

    That is if you¡¯re portraying a loaf of bread and looking only at the surface.

    In reality, it¡¯s a competition. In today¡¯s world of quirks and heroes, unfortunately, catching criminals has turned into a kind of sport, a rivalry between the fastest and brightest, a battle between efficiency and flamboyance, professionalism, and big bo¡­ ambitions.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    U.A. didn¡¯t hide this.

    But to their credit, they didn¡¯t forget that saving lives was the initial and most important goal from a moral standpoint. Therefore, in addition to assessing combat effectiveness, each applicant also received "rescue points" for covering and assisting other students. And not just students; many of the applicants were much older, by the way. Trying multiple times was allowed.

    Aside from assessing the potential of future heroes as rescuers, rescue points were also meant to gauge our ability to work in a team. Professional heroes often have to work together, whether it¡¯s facing large criminal groups or strong individuals alongside the police or pulling victims out of the epicenter of a disaster of some kind.

    In short, we were being tested separately as individuals and separately as cogs in the machine of teamwork.

    It''s also worth noting that the "Training Ground", or ¡°Arena,¡± as Mic called it, where we would be taking the practical exam, is just a name. In reality, the test would take place in specially constructed areas for U.A., filled with models of empty high-rises. At least, that¡¯s what I understood from the information on the website and Mic¡¯s presentation. I¡¯m afraid to imagine what budget this Academy has¡­

    All right. But why is the main test so unoptimized? Why is the entrance exam so one-sided and doesn¡¯t allow telepaths, tacticians, healers, and so on to enter?

    This is undoubtedly done on purpose.

    The thing is, combat heroes are much¡­ more reliable if we use an analogy with tools. To drive a nail, you can use a sledgehammer or a microscope, but no one doubts which will break first. And after all, everyone dreams of heroic exploits¡­

    So, firstly, such heroes of the mental front undergo additional stress-resistance and motivation checks. Even if they don¡¯t pass the entrance practical exam, but still don¡¯t give up on their dream, there are still ways to become a student at U.A. For example, they can enroll in the general education department and then transfer to the hero course privately.

    Secondly, these guys need less hands-on skills and much more strategic disciplines¡­ which are exactly what they teach in the first courses of general education and support. And then they transfer to the hero department according to the tried-and-true scheme. This is how the not-so-well-known Sir Nighteye, formerly All Might¡¯s sidekick, and probably Recovery Girl, about whom there were only a few lines on the internet but whom I remembered from the anime even after so many years, did it.

    But Midnight, for example, got lucky since in her year of admission, U.A. still had actors and mercenaries (on whom her quirk of sleep-inducing gas worked).

    And in general, regarding all applicants: this field test with RoboCops is a massive integrity check. I, of course, hadn¡¯t been to the Training Grounds of U.A., no one is allowed there, and the exam records are also impossible to find. However, I would bet that cameras are everywhere.

    In the end, the weak will leave, the overly aggressive will leave, the overly panicky will leave, the deceitful will leave¡­ let¡¯s hope my positive moral qualities are sufficient.

    In line with my thoughts, Mic announced that we were spread out across different test locations, that is, Training Grounds, or combat training arenas (yeah, yeah, familiar students shouldn¡¯t help each other, yeah, we got it), and then talked about the three types of our metal opponents.

    I think he would have added a few more details and wrapped up the lecture, but then some tall guy with glasses intervened. I usually try to be unbiased, but this guy, who tried to grab his moment in the spotlight, didn¡¯t appeal to me from his first words.

    I just can¡¯t take seriously a speech filled with bureaucratese and officialdom in industrial quantities. Especially when it¡¯s full of grievances. From what mindset did this¡­ wannabe student council president crawl out to start his speech with a complaint to U.A. about ¡°an error in the information booklet, for which the Academy should be ashamed?¡±

    And then this jerk publicly humiliated our green-haired protagonist! Yes, he was muttering throughout the lecture. Barely audible. So what? Is that a reason to disgrace him in front of thousands of people? What kind of hero are you after that?

    The fact that Midoriya is used to it¡­ only makes the situation more pathetic, honestly.

    After seating the weirdo (number seven thousand one hundred eleven, because even the numbers in the exam were impressive!) back down, Mic confirmed that yes, there were four types of robots, but the fourth was just an obstacle.

    He then wished us all luck in our suffering and ended his speech with a quote from Bonaparte ¡°about a true hero,¡± whom he sarcastically called a great hero (only Yui and I picked up on the sarcasm, judging by the lack of chuckles in the audience).

    Then we all headed off to take the test, lining up in queues of kids in variously colored and styled uniform blazers and skirts. It wasn¡¯t wise to dawdle because, besides the test itself and the journey to the combat test locations, we would still have to change into sportswear. And I had to do a warm-up routine as well.

    I even felt a slight jitter, the kind you get as a student¡ªa feeling I¡¯d already grown unaccustomed to. I hadn¡¯t felt it since my last life, it seems¡­

    But who, judging by their appearance, wasn¡¯t nervous at all and was carrying themselves with royal composure¡ªwas Yui.

    She elbowed me and smirked (or, rather, I knew she was smirking¡ªthe Snow Queen only slightly raised the corners of her lips):

    ¡°You should have come to the classes with me, Niren. Parkour would have been handy for you on this urban exam... Don¡¯t you regret missing out?¡±

    ¡°And who said I didn¡¯t go anywhere?¡± I raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°And where did you go, wise Shoda-dono?¡±

    I smiled gently, but with a hint of friendly teasing:

    ¡°That¡¯s a secret.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± she tried to poke me with a pen, but I heroically blocked the fearsome weapon in Yui¡¯s hand with my notebook.

    ¡°All I can say is that I was also preparing for something like this.¡±

    ¡°As expected from our Mr. ¡®I¡¯ll-do-everything-ten-times-better-but-you-did-great-too,¡¯¡± came Setsuna¡¯s cheeky voice over my shoulder, ¡°everything¡¯s under control! Everyone¡¯s punished! No one leaves empty-handed! No one leaves at all! They won¡¯t want to, anyway!¡±

    Her floating hand on the opposite side approvingly patted me on the shoulder.

    Yui rolled her eyes, waving off the fanged mouth that had been, so to speak, "taken out of context" from the rest of her body, floating around us in the air, which startled a couple of schoolgirls:

    ¡°And here you are... I have to say, I didn¡¯t expect U.A.¡¯s walls couldn¡¯t rid themselves of parasites¡­¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± the ¡°parasite¡± wasn¡¯t offended in the slightest, somehow understanding our conversation, even though I could clearly see her standing in line at the opposite end of the room. ¡°I¡¯ve already driven you out of your mind; now it¡¯s the entire U.A.¡¯s turn!¡±

    I happily gave her a high five (achievement unlocked: ¡°High five across the hall¡±), advised her not to waste her quirk''s energy, and Setsuna¡¯s school floated away to make the ¡°wonderful faraway¡± even more wonderful.

    I lost sight of Midoriya and the spiky blonde when we exited the hall.

    I wonder if I¡¯ll end up on the same battle test with the protagonist? He¡¯s supposed to take down some big robot there¡­

    Hmm.

    Mic mentioned three types of dummies to beat¡ªdepending on their size and danger level, they were called ¡°Small Villain,¡± ¡°Medium,¡± and ¡°Large,¡± earning one, two, or three villain points respectively, based on the estimated difficulty of the win. But there was a fourth type of robot that gave zero villain points and acted as an obstacle, a decoy that wasn¡¯t meant to be fought. It was innocuously named the ¡°Arena Trap.¡±

    Maybe those "traps" are the giant robots? Doesn¡¯t seem logical.

    Well, I hope I don¡¯t encounter one of those; who knows what to do with such a big one¡­

    When it was our turn, I stepped aside, smiled, and gently touched Yui¡¯s back, guiding her ahead of me into the room. To her questioning look, I replied with a playful aplomb:

    ¡°What? Yes, I¡¯m confident enough to be chivalrous!¡±

    And¡­ I don¡¯t know what exactly prompted me to do what I did.

    Maybe I¡¯m just a paranoid case. Perhaps, having reincarnated among anime superheroes and kept my sanity, I got off easy.

    Or maybe, as Exupery said, I feel responsible for those I¡¯ve "tamed." I consciously made the girls stronger than they would have been in the previous version of the world, and now their successes and failures will always partly be on my conscience.

    Either way, at that moment, I placed a marker on Yui¡¯s back as I let her go to the tests.

    Just as I had earlier marked Setsuna''s hand¡ªwhen I gave her a high five.

    And to be completely honest¡­ I do this regularly¡ªupdate the "tracking" on all the important people in my life ¡ªbecause the markers harmlessly disappear either after being outside my perception radius or simply after about a day.

    Yui and I entered the room.

    ***

    The theoretical test didn¡¯t impress me. I mean, no, it wasn¡¯t just for show; it was a legitimate school program, even tougher than our graduation exams.

    But, um¡­ I could have worried less about studying, and now I felt annoyed.

    And what would I have done if I had gained an extra (not) spare hour a day? Read a book? Go to the movies... Get myself a girlfriend. Bring her home. Make babies.

    Yeah, right.

    I started feeling pretty awful, so I didn¡¯t wait for Yui or Setsuna¡ªI went straight to my test location, where we were taken by a small shuttle bus, like at the airports, from the computer testing site. After all, time was short, even though I finished earlier, and I had done more than enough for their admission. Now, it¡¯s every man for himself.

    Besides¡­ I could almost feel where they were, so if anything, I could come to their aid¡­ It¡¯s a pity the markers don¡¯t show the condition of the object. Or rather, it shows it in a limited way¡ªlet¡¯s say if I put a marker on a piece of paper, and then it burns or is torn into tiny pieces, the marker disappears.

    So, if the marker on one of my friends suddenly disappears, then¡­

    Damn, what the hell am I thinking?! Why am I even assuming something bad has to happen?

    I changed in the large locker room. I was one of the first, so no one bothered me or invaded my personal space. Generally, my outfit would be regular sports pants, a sleeveless shirt, and the usual bandages, but I¡­ cheated a bit. Knowing I¡¯d have to fight robots with my bare hands and feet, I brought sturdy motorcycle boots and similar gloves that looked more like legalized knuckle-dusters with knuckle protection.

    I jumped in place, stretched.

    Incidentally, I never allowed myself those pretentious movie-style knuckle-cracking exercises. Amateurs might not know this, but actually, there is an opinion that such antics cause micro-damage to the synovial joint capsule, potentially leading to arthritis fifteen years later.

    Not to mention, a sharp neck twist can pinch a nerve, and the exam for such a "hero" would end before it began.

    I felt¡­ confident. Quite grim, though; the enthusiasm for all this heroic stuff had already worn off.

    But¡ªconfident.

    I remembered that the names of the ten strongest applicants are displayed on a special board on the academy¡¯s website. My primary goal is one: not just to get into U.A., but to get into the first "A" class of the hero course. I need to be in one of the top ten spots. No, the very first!

    So, I need to give it my all. No, a hundred and fifty percent! Plus ultra, as they say.

    Self-psyching, like boxers, works wonders.

    My mood gradually improved, and I smiled, or rather bared my teeth, as I approached the gates of Training Ground "C," where the students were already gathering.

    Though, they gathered incorrectly¡ªin little groups here and there.

    The adrenaline began to surge. I began to purposefully push my way forward. I needed to be closer to the gates¡­ to start first when the signal sounded¡­

    In the end, I took a place in the very front row, to the left of a short, thin guy with gray hair and an emotionless face.

    I didn¡¯t see anyone familiar.

    And I wasn¡¯t looking back anymore, focusing on the gate and my own breathing.

    The only thing I felt were a few of my markers nearby. I had been training for a long time to navigate with their help, marking everything and everyone and building a sort of dynamic three-dimensional map in my head, fortunately, within my current radius of a kilometer, I felt my marks perfectly.

    The problem was mainly that I couldn¡¯t accurately distinguish a marker on a refrigerator in an apartment, for example, from a marker on my mom¡¯s back, even though they were often close at night.

    Not having the ability to distinguish marked objects out of sight, I had to resort to tricks: placing several markers nearby to mark a certain point, placing them on different parts of people''s bodies-targets, setting them at different building heights, varying the force invested in the markers, and so on.

    With some effort, thanks to excellent topographical memory (which, in turn, arose due to the quirk factor), I indeed managed to navigate.

    Now, I almost automatically matched the distance, direction, the presence of movement of the marked object, the characteristics of the marker itself, and the height relative to the ground, and as a result, I realized that Yui was to my right¡ªprobably in the neighboring Training Ground.

    But right now, that¡¯s not important.

    I will become a hero. I will become a savior. It''s me¡ªnot some green-colored nerd¡ªwho¡¯s the protagonist of this story! I¡¯ll show them. I¡¯ll prove it! I¡¯ll¡­

    Signal.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    The "Chosen One" of this world, Izuku Midoriya (on the right), isn''t impressive yet. But that''s just for now; the Chosen Ones are all like that.

    On the left is his personal school nemesis, Bakugo.

    Mic in his loud and stylish role (it would be interesting to see him out of character, honestly).

    In the anime, we can clearly see Bakugo''s exam ticket during the entrance exam scene. From this, we can determine both the time and date of the exam, as well as his exam number.

    Just a cute art of Yui. Puzzled by the protagonist''s actions :)

    <u>Author''s Note: </u>

    Yeah, I know about this 10-year-something experiment, but I don''t believe it was conveyed properly because there was no way to control the variables. Moreover, as an M.D., I remember learning about this in university.

    Anyway, whether it''s true or not isn''t the point¡ªthe main message was to highlight the extremely pedantic nature of the MC. He''s kind of a killjoy sometimes (and, by the way, I crack my fingers and neck all the time myself).

 Episode 8. Part II.

    What''s it like to punch, with bare¡ªor almost bare¡ªhands, two-meter-tall humanoid machines?

    Well¡­ it''s like hitting a hard but thin piece of particle board that breaks on impact.

    That''s for the ¡°Light¡± villains, at least. Seriously, I could dent their ¡°metal¡± frames without even activating my quirk!

    As expected, the drones at the entrance exam were deliberately and significantly weakened¡ªthey weren''t just harmless; they were little more than punching bags.

    But everything is relative.

    ¡­ Anyway, let''s start from the beginning.

    To be clear: when I said, ¡°The signal sounded,¡± it¡¯s just a figure of speech. In reality, there was no signal¡ªthere was Midnight. A professional heroine and the sex symbol of U.A.

    Yes, lucky me.

    Next to the massive entrance gates stood a kind of watchtower, or simply a tower to avoid redundancy, where the curvaceous superheroine with a stripper''s image stepped out into the sunlight. She barely said, ¡°Okay, start!¡±¡ªnot too loudly, at that¡ªwhich caught the attention of some applicants, the male half immediately glued to her like flies to honey.

    The heroine, arching even more seductively, started explaining, ¡°What? In a real battle, there¡¯s no countdown, and besides¡­¡±

    I didn¡¯t hear the rest, having bolted among the first through the giant gates while the boys were drooling and the girls were fuming. Interestingly, while the students were busy ogling and getting outraged, the gates opened without a sound.

    Ahead stretched a deserted road, at the end of which two robots lay in ¡°ambush.¡± I immediately earned two points by pouncing on the poor, lonely, metal losers.

    I could swear one of them buzzed, ¡°Oh, mama¡­¡±

    Changing my running direction sharply, I delivered a right-footed kick to the first one from a spin ¡ªa standard middle roundhouse strike, or mawashi-geri chudan in karate terms. Classic, in other words. With the quirk activated, at about sixty to seventy percent of my maximum enhancement.

    And¡­

    It became clear I overdid it when the robot literally exploded like a steel pi?ata full of bolts. I was lucky the explosion was directional, with all the nuts flying out like shrapnel from a shotgun in the opposite direction¡ªand right into¡­ the other robot.

    As a result, the second one got pretty mangled and punctured in various places.

    Stopping in the middle of a second attack, which was no longer needed, I straightened my shoulders, made sure no one noticed my blunder, and decided to pretend it was all part of the plan.

    And this time, deciding not to overdo it, I simply booted the mechanical foe in the metaphorical groin¡ªwithout using my quirk.

    Robot: *crashed*.

    Thus, by experimental groin-kicking, I concluded that I had earned only two points, and these opponents were lightweights. Literally¡ª¡°Light Villains,¡± one-pointers¡­ Oh, enough puns already!

    So, after a couple of seconds, I sprinted on¡ªalready looking for bigger game.

    For the sake of a fair experiment, I should have found an undamaged, intact robot and tried to beat it without my quirk. But, firstly, I never forgot for a second that we were constantly being watched by dozens of professionals who might start suspecting something was off with my quirk in that case. Secondly, there was no time.

    My soul was singing and craving a fight; I was literally thirsting to test the results of my years of training. So I ran¡ªor rather, ¡°hopped¡± forward on my quirk, like a super-strong saiga, overtaking other applicants in tracksuits¡ªnervously flailing at anything that remotely resembled a robot.

    After earning a couple more points¡ªI don''t know how many, one or two¡ªI used about twenty to thirty percent of my quirk''s power output (I have no idea how All Might and the future Midoriya manage to so accurately gauge the percentage of their strength. Some sort of built-in counter, perhaps?), so the robots didn''t crumble like Legos but reliably broke down and looked sad.

    No particular combat tactics were required against them¡ªthey were really weak and slow, so targeting weak spots like necks or joints was pointless. Sometimes, though, the robots made a dramatic entrance right out of building walls, scattering chunks of concrete around (for fun, I picked one up and, without much effort, crumbled it in my hand without using my quirk¡ªit was sandstone or limestone, something soft), but their attempts at surprise couldn¡¯t compare to Setsuna''s pranks, so I remained calm as an elephant.

    It was more challenging not to hit the frenzied students around me, who, for the most part, had no idea about combat stances or the tactics of small groups. Some even deliberately sabotaged each other, stealing points. Nobody dared mess with me, though¡ªapparently, my showcase right at the entrance made it clear I was a dangerous guy.

    Whenever you join a new group, always slap your di¡­ quirk on the table first thing!

    But not everyone was clueless. Early on, I spotted a fair-haired girl on the flank who, upon reaching a crowd of robots, leapt high into the air and ran over them¡ªright over their heads and clumsy limbs. Grace and flexibility were mesmerizing. I would have stared if I had more time.

    Or, for instance, right out of the crowd¡ªas I saw out of the corner of my eye when I was standing over a bot caught in ¡°friendly fire¡±¡ªa girl with actual wings took off! Leathery, spiky ones, like a succubus.

    Or, for example¡­ that short guy with gray hair who stood next to me at the gates. Apparently, he had brains¡ªotherwise, I can''t explain why he tailed me. Somehow, managing not to lag behind¡ªhow exactly, I didn''t understand¡ªand keeping right behind me like a shadow, about five meters away, he followed me with some sliding movements, already managing to take down a couple of stragglers. Not mine, though. How he finished them off, I didn''t get it either.

    I only saw small clouds of some purple mist that quickly dissipated, but what he was doing in there¡ªwho knows. The cloud looked pretty dangerous; I didn''t want to go in.

    And it''s no coincidence he wore a fabric mask on his face, right?

    Besides, there was no time to look closely. Let him follow and finish off the Transformers; I don''t mind. As long as they''re not mine. He''ll fall behind eventually¡­

    I didn¡¯t notice much difference between the one-point and two-point bots¡ªexcept that the one-pointers had wheels instead of legs, making them unstable, while the ¡°Medium Villains¡± had four legs and a tail, so you couldn''t knock them over. But they were armored the same (poorly), so I didn''t care. I moved forward like a steamroller.

    ¡°Ten points.¡±

    Too bad I don¡¯t have a real superpower¡ªthen I could tear off that ¡°quasi-scorpion''s¡± tail and use it as a club. Pointless, but how dramatic!

    I wasn¡¯t sure exactly how points for defeated villains were calculated, so I followed the Native American wisdom and finished off each of my robots (essentially every one that crossed my path, to be honest. Sorry, competitors), already lying on the ground, with another precise micro-enhanced kick to the head¡ªto shatter it, just in case.

    And besides¡­ you shouldn''t leave a defeated enemy behind you; you¡¯ll read that in any ¡°How to Be a Successful Dark Lord for Dummies¡± guide.

    ¡°Fourteen points.¡±

    I smashed a few more bots, surged ahead, and looked around.

    Rushed forward.

    Another robot. It looks different. Larger, on two tracks, with something on its shoulders¡­ whoa, are those missile launchers? Huge claws. Got it¡ªthat¡¯s the first ¡°Heavy Villain¡± I''ve encountered.

    Missiles were flying at me.

    Believe me, few things in life get your blood pumping like missiles flying at you.

    Accelerating instantly, literally shooting myself forward and flying almost horizontally, parallel to the ground, much lower, under the missiles, I found myself directly beneath the treacherous machine that had declared war on humans. Yes, not all of humanity, but school kids are people too! Even if it doesn¡¯t always seem that way.

    Meanwhile, the gray-haired guy trailing me instantly swelled into a thick purple cloud; all the missiles went in there, and, interestingly, I didn¡¯t hear an explosion¡ªjust a muffled ¡°thud.¡± The fog muffles sound?

    And I noticed a random girl who accidentally got caught in this cloud almost immediately collapsed. Paralytic gas? Sleep-inducing? Well, it was good I kept my distance, Niren-dono.

    I wanted to help her¡ªhelp both of them, actually¡ªbut then the robot finally figured out where I had gone.

    An awkward, overly wide swing with a huge claw, more like an excavator bucket. But the bot had reacted¡ªclearly, they are programmed differently. Duck under it. Strike with a left short jab where a living opponent would have a liver. Enhance by about¡­ fifteen percent?

    Remember when I talked about ¡°comparison¡±?

    The robot buckled, smoke billowed, but it was still functional and tried to swipe me away with a backhanded swing of its manipulator.

    Okay, so the three-pointer is better armored.

    But does it matter?

    Jumping right onto the bucket, I pushed off again and delivered a solid kick to the bot''s chin, enhancing to about thirty percent, then followed up by landing both feet on its body, at the neck joint.

    The robot grew sad and gave me three more points.

    ¡°That¡¯s seventeen¡­¡±

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Turning to the injured girl, I saw that the gray-haired skinny guy (seriously, he''s skinny, no offense) was completely unharmed¡ªprobably dodged, disrupting the targeting with his mist. And was already bringing the girl back to consciousness. Apparently, by waving a cotton ball soaked in ammonia under her nose.

    ¡°Well then¡­,¡± I shrugged, ¡°the job''s done; the moor can go.¡±

    I surveyed the battlefield.

    Only a couple of minutes had passed in the exam, but there were almost no intact bots left here, and only occasionally did ¡°scorpions¡± leap onto the students from rooftops, like in a bad horror movie.

    Logically, there must be more of them somewhere else.

    This is probably another way to test the applicants¡ªassessing their ability to search and analyze information. The student ¡°sensors¡± should be able to quickly determine where to go and where to find many ¡°points on legs.¡±

    ¡­ But that¡¯s not my path.

    First, if you slow down¡ªyou lose.

    I bolted deeper into the city.

    I want to score the maximum points on the exam. I won¡¯t achieve that or get first place if I waste time on something as trivial as climbing a building.

    Second, I have excellent spatial orientation.

    Focusing, I matched the positions of all markers within my perception radius and clearly envisioned where I was concerning the other markers.

    My bag with my things and watch is here, so the changing room is there, and the edge of the wall surrounding the Arena is over here. Got it.

    And third, I have a marked friend who is great at finding information and enemy clusters because she can fly.

    I figured out where Setsuna was now, matched it with the approximate boundaries of the Training Ground rectangle I was in, and realized that, most likely, the robot cluster wasn¡¯t in the center (too simple, right?) but rather near the walls of this ¡°city model.¡±

    So¡ªthat way.

    I ran toward the hypothetical ¡°there.¡±

    Passed by a pharmacy, a streetlamp, a tree. No one around ¡­

    Interestingly, the Training Ground had several new buildings with neat rows of intact windows¡ªalmost as if after a renovation, not a war between students and robots. Here and there were even trees¡ªreal, sprawling, green ones.

    ¡°Oaks, probably,¡± I thought.

    I''m a complete blockhead in botany, so an oak is all I can recognize. One oak spots another from afar, as they say.

    I was bored and irritated. I wanted to get in more fights, but there weren''t any.

    Dived into an alley.

    Came out into a small square. Empty, no one there. The students hadn''t reached it; no robots.

    Keep going.

    Another alley. Turn.

    Gaining speed on the straight stretch, now moving in long zigzag jumps, I took a wide turn around the corner (always, always check around the corner before turning there¡ªor your life will take a wrong turn when they break your neck).

    Clapped my hands and braced against a wall, extinguishing the remaining momentum with braking impulses from both hands.

    Ahead was the exit to a large square. Full of robots, like sardines in a can.

    Hmm. I don¡¯t think my attempts to ¡°bypass gathering information¡± helped much; rather, there are quite a few such points.

    Ahead of me, frozen for a moment while planning my next actions, I noticed on other streets, ¡°flowing¡± into the square, a few more students who had broken ahead. Those who were smarter and, like me, immediately sprinted forward without wasting time, looking for a bigger piece of the pie.

    I even recognized two of them.

    Apparently, having outrun most of them again, I reached a kind of ¡°premium points bank¡± that should put the strongest, fastest, and smartest at the top of the ranking. Having such a bonus makes sense, too. Everything in this U.A. makes sense. They¡¯re already getting on my nerves.

    Diagonally across from me, a guy in a plaid bandana, slowly retreating into the alley, was doing something unimaginable: moving his hands so fast that even I could barely keep up, he was literally sealing one-point robots into the surrounding walls and the asphalt underfoot. He didn''t care what he was fusing with what¡ªwhen he caught two bots at once, he just fused them together.

    Interesting. Some kind of ¡°atomic-level welding¡±?

    But he moves like an amateur; look, he stumbled and almost fell. Given the speed of his hand movements¡­ oh, what a talent wasted in martial arts. Such a shame.

    On the opposite side from us, in the ¡°corridor¡± between two high-rises, cluttered with some boxes, two unfortunate ¡°Heavy¡± three-point robots were being fervently beaten up by a bouncy, flexible, and clearly superhumanly strong pink¡ªby which I mean brightly, strikingly, neon pink¡ªpretty alien girl with horns and impressive, uh, airbags. Her equally striking suit only emphasized that. And she was moving great¡ªagile with well-placed strikes.

    But I doubt many would want to get to know the alien girl better after seeing what happened next: how this girl, from every part of her body¡ªincluding hair that looked like a tuft of pink cotton candy¡ªoozed a greasy gray substance that dissolved fairly strong third-level robots within seconds.

    A few more drones in dissolved form were quietly chilling nearby in the form of grayish mercury puddles.

    Well, not really my type¡­ an exotic lady for lovers of pineapples (because they¡¯re acidic!), the tropics, and all sorts of tropical parasites.

    Oh, yes, she might also be my potential future classmate.

    And she¡¯s not the only one.

    The second metaphysical classmate was right a few steps away from me, hiding behind a wall and concentrating on doing something with a pair of the closest robots in the crowd, who hadn¡¯t noticed her yet. A brunette of quite an ordinary appearance, except for the long cords with plugs coming out of her ears.

    To be honest, it looked like worms from the ears.

    But, surprisingly, it didn¡¯t evoke any revulsion, and the girl herself seemed quite nice to me.

    Anyway, these cords, which she controlled as freely as Mashirao did with his tail, were plugged into these two robots, and the future heroine was trying to do something with them¡­ she succeeded in about five seconds, resulting in the speakers on the bots¡¯ faces (and they can talk, remember?) exploding, leaving them headless. Cool! Slow, though. But cool.

    What wasn¡¯t cool was that the rest of the robots noticed her because of this, and about twenty simultaneously turned on their wheels toward her and rushed to avenge.

    ¡°Not good!¡± I thought. ¡°You can¡¯t hit girls!¡±

    And shot myself forward.

    I flew past the player-girl, who recoiled in fear from the robots¡­ fleetingly managed to see her wide eyes and even smiled back¡­ some hero-lover I am¡­

    And I literally drilled into the crowd, relishing the opportunity to hit almost full force without risking getting a knee in my face or a huge tail with a tassel in return.

    Luckily, robots aren¡¯t girls, and hitting them is allowed.

    And Setsuna is definitely not a girl! She¡¯s a Battle Comrade! And hitting one like that is even necessary to make them stronger, you see.

    By the way, I continued to hit mostly with my legs. Saving my hands.

    Why?

    Well, don¡¯t believe people who solemnly tell you with honest eyes about ¡°conditioning their bare knuckles right against concrete walls.¡± Especially starting from childhood, huh. I¡¯m still biologically fifteen years old, after all.

    No, with such ¡°conditioning,¡± the poor ¡°martial arts adept from the cradle¡± would only cause himself a serious injury, possibly even becoming disabled. When colliding with a hard rough surface, the quite delicate and thin skin on the knuckles, or even the soft tissues of an inexperienced fist, will earn a laceration. When your hands are sticky with blood, and every punch leaves a mark on the wall, you won''t get much practice.

    And even for an experienced fighter, in most cases, too.

    But to hell with the skin¡ªit will harden over time and become tougher with scars, right? Except, how will it toughen up if those ¡°adepts¡± are pounding away at the wall without pause? The skin won¡¯t have time to heal, for crying out loud. But fine, what''s more important here is that the knuckles in a human hand are not some natural bone brass knuckles, as many think.

    They''re actually quite fragile joints between the two epiphyses of the thin metacarpal bones and the phalanges, also surrounded by a delicate synovial capsule. So the best you can get from mindlessly smashing boards without understanding and preparation is osteoarthritis.

    Yes, the phenomenon of ¡°conditioning¡± hands does exist, and a master karateka, who has spent half his life practicing his art, can indeed break a few boards, or even bricks, with his bare hands without any significant harm to himself. But he learned this for half his life, come on!

    ... And yes, I fell for that once too and tried it. Admittedly, back in my past life, in the cold, hungry days of student life, I used old socks as makeshift bandages (so I mostly avoided injuries) and pounded on a concrete wall in the rain. Romantic...

    So, what''s the moral here? Our body, even when enhanced by a quirk factor, is a fragile and complex tool that requires careful and considerate handling.

    ¡­Because of this, I aimed my strikes at the robots primarily with my legs, well-protected by thick-soled motorcycle boots, with their hard toes and high tops that also provided good support for the entire ankle joint. Sure, in such footwear, I couldn¡¯t perform grabs or throws, and my mobility was compromised. But, nevertheless, I don''t have unlimited access to healing abilities¡­ yet. The U.A. students do.

    Later, I¡¯ll get a suit from U.A. based on my sketches and technical ¡°calculations,¡± if you can call a few blueprints that, and have one less thing to worry about.

    About five minutes had passed since the start of the combat test: I have a knack for telling time¡ªnot very precisely, but with an error margin of no more than a minute, at a distance and without looking. Did I mention that?

    The trick is quite simple: just open the cover and tap the dial of a mechanical clock with hands. Four times¡ªonce on the dot where twelve o¡¯clock is to distinguish top from bottom, once on the minute hand, and twice on the hour hand¡ªto differentiate between the hour and minute hands. That¡¯s all! Then just keep them close by.

    For instance, right now, they were lying about fifty meters away from me in my bag in the locker room (you can''t bring any items to the exam except gadgets that improve quirk control; we were even searched and passed through a metal detector).

    Of course, this trick doesn¡¯t even sound simple¡ªlike, clocks are tiny, and far away, how could this work? But as I understand it, it''s all about my quirk factor¡ªI have a very good sense of space and the position of my markers in that space. So it took me only a month to learn to tell time this way, even approximately, and another six months to get it precise.

    ¡­ I learned this back in elementary school when I was bored out of my mind, so now I don''t even think about telling time.

    Since I still had five minutes left, I could only speed up! More broken robots for the god of broken robots!... Hmm¡­ Is there such a god?

    ¡°Twenty-five¡­¡±

    ¡°Twenty-eight¡­¡±

    ¡°Thirty¡­¡±

    Another minute of my objective time later, I once again, with amused surprise, spotted the mist guy to my left, attacking in ninja style¡ªemerging from the clouds of his mist, surprising the robots. Fortunately, the gray-haired shinobi wasn¡¯t stalking me¡ªotherwise, I¡¯d have had to explain to him that I¡¯m not that kind of guy and didn¡¯t fixate on Midnight only because of a lack of time. Nevertheless, he was one of the few who made it this far, despite not having a fighter¡¯s build or showing any combat quirk.

    Hmm¡­ an interesting ninja.

    At least someone from this¡­ flock of sheep is acting with technique and brains, using their potential to the fullest. Me, him, and the acid girl. The rest either don¡¯t think about the consequences or have no plan. Kids, what else can you expect?

    Although, to be honest, I doubt this guy will pass¡ª it seems he is severely lacking in brute strength; he can confuse the bots but can''t do much to them.

    Having smashed about fifteen robots and catching a short break upon reaching the end of the square, I found that at the opposite end of the street, I could see a huge wall.

    And behind it, I spotted a giant robot.

    A truly giant one. Damn, it''s big! Seriously, it¡¯s gigantic!

    What would I do if I came across one like that?

    Interestingly, I can feel one of my markers in that direction¡­

    I didn¡¯t have time to finish the thought because three cheeky one-point bots tried to run me over on their wheels. I got distracted, dodging attacks from two of them. In the process, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the ever-present gray guy, the mist shinobi, who used me as a distraction and tried to attack the third one. Although, with little success.

    As if that wasn¡¯t enough, a two-point bot joined the fray, which very ¡°conveniently¡± for itself jumped on me from the wall¡ªit must have seen the whole horror show of warlike students from the side and decided to finish this quickly.

    As a result, I sent this suicidal bot flying straight into the other robots with a powerful kick, breaking its legs and creating a pile of five points. Bon app¨¦tit, Niren!

    About to finish off all four and start heading toward the next cluster of robots being pressed by the pink vitamin girl, I cast a final glance toward the wall¡ªand froze.

    There was a second giant robot. Another one.

    For a moment, I didn¡¯t even understand what caused my reaction.

    The second moment¡­ didn¡¯t happen because, before I even realized anything, I was already sprinting there. My body moved on its own again.

    Only one word escaped my lips:

    ¡°Yui.¡±

    The thing was, the second robot¡­ was growing.

    It was growing in size.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    The watchtower from which Present Mic yelled at Midoriya in the original. But if he yelled at Midoriya, that¡¯s a fact, and we know that several other arenas were used, that¡¯s also a fact, it means someone else will be yelling at someone else on another arena.

    I chose Midnight :)

    The robot about to be DIVIDED by Niren. Ha-ha-ha.

    The guy with gray hair :)

    The ¡°acid¡± pink girl.

    The brunette with the unusual ears.

 Episode 8. Part III.

    Musical Accompaniment: Scream A Bike With No Brakes - Kach

    https://open.spotify.com/track/2GkSqRomgLGgHKOuUZSGPJ

    So yeah, I sprinted toward it without even thinking about what I was doing.

    A moment later, just to be sure, I cross-checked the distance and position of the marker ahead with the ones I had left behind¡ªback in the auditorium, at the entrance before the test began, while fighting the robots, and back in the locker room¡­ Even though I already knew what I would find¡ªthat right next to this robot was Yui, not, say, my bag with the watch. The only marker ahead was Kodai''s.

    While running, I yelled over my shoulder to the guy controlling the mist, who was staring after me in confusion:

    "Finish them off for me!" I meant the pile of robots I had stacked on top of each other.

    Why let good points go to waste?

    And maybe this guy will earn enough points to at least catch the eye of some non-combat admissions advisor, like Shota Aizawa, the boogeyman for criminals and villains¡ªEraserhead, whose Quirk literally shuts down almost any other Quirk. Incidentally, he¡¯s the homeroom teacher of Class 1-A. Makes sense: who better to handle a dozen monkeys with grenades?

    I shoved Aizawa, the robots, and the guy out of my head.

    So, why am I sprinting forward, toward another Training Grounds?

    Because an enormous robot, enlarged by Yui''s Quirk, is far more dangerous than the teachers and professionals think. It could cause a tragedy if I don¡¯t reach it in time. If U.A. hasn''t shut it down yet, they probably won¡¯t be able to shut it down in time at all¡ªeither because they don''t want to or simply can''t. Sure, the heroes likely won¡¯t let any students die¡ªthey wouldn¡¯t want that scandal¡ªbut if the magnification messes with the electronics? What if the robot is no longer following commands? What if it has a real combat mode and starts seriously attacking students? What if it can''t be shut down now? Nobody besides Yui and me knows about these properties of her Quirk. I have to at least warn¡­ someone.

    I accelerated and leapt over a random robot, who was inexplicably alone in the back streets of my Ground¡¯s arena.

    I''m running because I know Yui''s Quirk: she can''t safely enlarge a robot of a comparable size to a human to such a scale. She¡¯s probably unconscious right now, which means she¡¯s in danger, unaware that there are two robots, and can¡¯t deactivate her Quirk! And it''s likely still draining her¡­ maybe Yui is already¡­

    Damn it. Damn it!

    I reached the wall, clapped my hands "cheerfully," and, slowing myself with braking impulses from my hands, frantically looked around for some kind of ramp. No robots, no ramp either, but a Japanese-style "Khrushchyovka", a type of Soviet-era apartment building, was almost flush against the wall.

    Alright, that¡¯ll do.

    I jumped toward it, dove into the alley, and leapt onto the building as if trying to run up its side. Pushed off. Amplified. Jumped higher, kicked the outer wall of the Training Ground with the other foot. Pushed off. Amplified. Jumped higher¡­

    And I¡¯m running there because something isn¡¯t right about this situation. Why would she magnificat a robot in the first place? To gain an advantage, pit it against another big one? No¡­ pure recklessness, completely unlike Yui. Maybe she got distracted, pushed, lost focus? Just a tragic accident?.. Or maybe some idiot copied her Quirk? But in that case, she would have canceled the effect. Either way, while she''s unconscious, she won''t be able to fix anything.

    Should¡¯ve grabbed some ammonia, like that mist guy carries around¡­

    And finally, the last reason: a hero, as I understand it, wouldn¡¯t stand aside when someone close¡­ hell, just a good person might get hurt. A hero¡­

    No.

    I won¡¯t stand aside.

    Within ten seconds, I was already pulling myself up to the top edge of this great, almost-Chinese wall.

    There was, of course, the risk that the surface would be too well-polished and the soles would slip¡­ and there was also the risk of pushing off too hard and shooting myself into the stratosphere.

    But it worked out.

    Moreover, I have my own way of dealing with heights, and I¡¯m confident I could survive even such a¡­

    A sudden reality check cut my self-assured musings short: just as I was nearly at the top of the wall, the ground and everything on it started shaking like crazy. Nearly falling off to test my method of dealing with heights, I grabbed onto the edge of the wall with my entire body¡ªlike a man, but not a spider.

    Twisting my head around, I saw a giant robotic monster behind me, the same size as the ones I¡¯d seen ahead earlier. This robot, rolling past on its tracks, was truly intimidating. It was taller than the buildings. Much taller. And it nearly brushed me with its huge claw.

    And it was heading toward the square I¡¯d just left.

    Alright, so this isn''t just an "obstacle," but a planned exercise to test the applicants for¡­ something.

    These exams and this Academy are scaring me more and more.

    After waiting for the world to stop shaking so violently, I pulled myself up again, did a pull-up, and flung myself onto the flat surface. I wanted to spread out on the "floor" like an amorphous, sweaty puddle, but instead, I jumped to my feet, looking around.

    No worries, I''ll jump into a building on the other side, quickly check on Yui, and maybe even make it back...

    ¡°Oh, shit!!¡±

    On the other side of the Training Ground, it wasn¡¯t another Ground, not even another city¡ªthere was a lawn! A damn lawn ten meters below, maybe a hundred meters long, separating one arena from another!..

    Which, of course, makes sense.

    Well, shit. Logical shit.

    And the main thing is, I should have understood this with my markers. But¡ªI forgot.

    So, now I have to jump from the height of a three-story building, run a hundred-meter dash, climb back up¡ªthis time on a bare wall¡ªand then find Yui and pull her out from under those two oversized robots.

    I rotated my wrists and ankles, hopped on the spot, looked down¡­

    It increasingly seemed like I had planned a reckless, self-assured folly¡­ maybe my exam results will be declared invalid altogether¡­ and I haven¡¯t scored many points, and surely leaving the test location is forbidden¡­ and what about the future, which might suffer just because I over-read The Little Prince?

    I didn¡¯t let myself think about it any longer and jumped down.

    Jumped¡­ if I¡¯d had even a little more time, I would have turned my butt toward the abyss below and slowed my fall by bracing my gloved hands and feet against the grooves that separated the wall sections. But there was no time.

    Taking a leap, I straightened up, slightly bending my knees and extending one foot a little forward, with my arms half-bent and parallel to the ground, palms open and facing down.

    When I told Yui I went somewhere, even if not to parkour, I wasn¡¯t lying. I had experience with skydiving and wingsuit flying from my past life. Here, I hadn¡¯t had a full opportunity to do that yet¡­ one of the reasons to join U.A. But I had theoretical notes on braking upon landing from a height, and I had even tested them a few times. Though, jumping from much lower.

    Unfortunately, I¡¯ll have to try it out now in combat conditions and without a safety net.

    About eight meters to the ground¡­

    Issued the first braking impulse¡ªfrom my right foot, the one in front. It jolted, I leveled out. The fall began to speed up again.

    I bent my arms and legs to avoid breaking limbs from the rebound. I think Iron Man flew in a similar pose in those movies I watched to death. Didn¡¯t remember exactly, but I think fire shot from his palms¡­

    Six meters¡­

    Issued two braking impulses with both hands, caught the balance again. Dangerous to do one, might spin me mid-air¡­

    Though, if he''s Iron Man, I mean, in armor¡ªwhy would he need to bend anything? On the contrary. He probably falls from the sky like a brave tin soldier, stiff as a board. I want that kind of armor too.

    Three meters¡­

    Issued a second brake from the leg, from behind. Damn, tipped forward, nearly headbutted the ground¡­ but the fall slowed down again, and at two meters it wasn¡¯t scary anymore. I tucked in, absorbed the impact with my legs, dissipated some of the momentum, and redirected some when I rolled. The roll, though, was rough. But here, fortunately, it wasn¡¯t concrete¡ªa soft lawn.

    Okay, we¡¯re alive¡­

    Coming out of the roll, I literally sprung off my hands, slapping the ground and pushing myself off, and threw myself forward, immediately breaking into a run. New markers were placed on my palms and soles almost automatically, without conscious thought. The third step¡ªQuirk activation¡ªa small springy ball seemed to explode underfoot, and I propelled myself forward again.

    ¡°Bunny hopping,¡± or simply ¡°Bhop¡±. A funny word. Harmless. It poorly conveys the essence of the movement method I managed to develop. In reality, I¡­ essentially bypassed the limitations of my own Quirk, though with a risk to my life. I can¡¯t multiply my multiplication by placing markers from enhanced strikes.

    However, when I run using my Quirk, placing markers on my foot and throwing myself forward with a sort of explosion, each subsequent step becomes more powerful¡ªbecause before I set a marker on the other sole, I touch the ground with it. That means each subsequent marker, essentially, absorbs a significant portion of the acceleration of the previous one.

    Unlike punching with the same fist, I have two legs, but the direction of movement is one, so it works. At least, the direction is one, and there are still two legs until I activate too powerful an enhancement and one of them gets ripped off.

    The consequence is that I gain speed with each step, pushing off further, faster¡­ on the battlefield, in a confined space like a gym or city streets, my ¡°bunny hopping¡± is limited; I can move quickly; I¡¯m quite mobile. But truly gaining speed is not possible, and I wouldn¡¯t risk it.

    It¡¯s different¡ªwhen in a hurry, on a green lawn, in a huge, empty, and deserted place¡­

    Figuratively speaking, I was pressed into the seat.

    Never accelerated like this before. The world began to blur.

    The wind whipped my face, causing a sting in my eyes. Absentmindedly made a mental note that I needed to buy myself protective glasses and embed something like them in my costume.

    Honestly, I also had some groundwork for, let¡¯s say, a ¡°second-level¡± enhanced running technique, which should have sped me up almost twice more, simultaneously creating something like a shockwave behind me. I tested this move on a couple of cautious jumps, everything seemed to work¡ªI flew up four meters even without any initial acceleration. However, I didn¡¯t risk using it here. For now¡ªtoo early. I need protective gear for my legs, armor, and a suit from U.A. And more space. I won''t be able to help anyone if I turn into a thin layer of pat¨¦.

    Stolen story; please report.

    Two cybernetic colossi towered over the wall, which I was almost close to reaching.

    And yet, I had to cross only one hundred, well, maybe one hundred fifty meters. That is, I would have crossed this damn lawn in thirty seconds even without my Quirk, and in reality, I was flying at great speed. Amazing how time perception can stretch¡­

    A shadow fell over me. The robot heads, whatever their gigantic size, disappeared behind the wall. Alright, time to brake before I crash and splatter all over the lawn.

    I was about to slow down, which in my situation involved a gradual change of trajectory, a cautious disengagement from using markers on my legs, braking impulses on my hands¡­ ultimately, I¡¯d lose another half a minute. Why the hell?

    And how am I, damn it, going to climb up a sheer wall?

    No, this won¡¯t do¡ªthis is U.A., they have Recovery Girl.

    If nothing works out and I smash myself against the wall, she¡¯ll piece me together. Maybe.

    Practically without losing speed, I straightened up (during my accelerated run, I took a position like a speed skater¡ªalmost parallel to the ground, otherwise the acceleration would push me not forward but upward¡ªwhich is what I needed now), pushed off the ground, and additionally propelled myself up with impulses from both hands, which I initially planned to stop with. It was as if I struck with wings¡ªand flew into the sky.

    About seven, maybe eight meters to the wall. I reckoned that gravity and air resistance, while I was "flying," would dampen the accumulated speed, but I¡¯d already be high and would just run up the wall to the edge.

    From the outside, the spectacle must¡¯ve been comedic¡ªa guy flying in an arc, feverishly clapping his hands to throw himself even higher and reach the¡­ throw even higher, I said¡­ higher still!... brake, brake, mama!

    Too low a trajectory, I¡¯m about to smash into the wall at a right angle and slide down like a broken doll!

    Apparently, today is just the day for testing all my moves and ideas in real-world conditions.

    Having used up all the markers on my hands and feet, throwing myself up, I activated the fifth marker, which I habitually placed on my back¡ªduring rolls, one of which I¡¯d done when landing on the grass. I was thrown up again¡ªI gritted my teeth, as the sensation from this is no good, like being hit with a sack of rice on the spine¡ªeven despite the thick hoodie I specifically wore for this occasion.

    Then, flailing my legs wildly like a cyclist on energy drinks, I finally reached the wall¡ªnot at a right angle but tangentially.

    Pushed off, flew up a little more¡­ oh-uh-oh, the momentum is gone¡­ for a moment, I hung in the air as if in zero gravity¡­ then gravity took over, my boots slid down the wall surface with a nasty screech. I stretched out like a string, trying to reach the edge with my fingers¡­ ouch, ouch, almost-almost reached, just a bit more¡­

    For a couple of seconds, I hung there, dangling under the edge of the wall, then remembered I actually knew how to do pull-ups. Straining my spaghetti arms, I crawled up.

    ¡°Oh, dear Kami-sama¡­¡±

    I looked down, somewhat in awe. I had just made a jump¡­ well, or its multi-component likeness, to a height of ten meters. Ugh¡­ and even stayed whole, well, except for the shriveled and tightly clenched testicles.

    Adrenaline and mindlessness work wonders.

    How nice it would be if this were my exam today¡­ I grew somber, and, somehow getting up, turned toward Training Ground "B."

    Only now did I notice how much my legs hurt. And my palms. But¡­ later, everything later.

    I peered between the buildings of the Ground. Saw a broad avenue where students, like ants, were scattering.

    What am I going to do next? And what happened to Yui?

    ***

    A minute earlier.

    Training Ground ¡°B¡± of the U.A. Academy.

    Yui Kodai.

    Yui felt confident and calm.

    In fact, more like overconfident. Niren wouldn''t have praised her for that.

    But what to do if fighting robots, which supposedly represent real criminals¡ªthe villains she would defeat in her future professional career¡ªturned out to be embarrassingly easy?

    And the computer test turned out to be a piece of cake.

    As for the robots¡­

    She simply shrank the first lamppost she came across and then, encountering mechanical opponents, used her makeshift weapon as a spear, jabbing it between armor joints and manipulators. After that, the task was easy¡ªjust enlarging the pole to rip off heads and limbs. She¡¯d already scored at least thirty points¡­

    She even smiled a little, echoing her thoughts: just a bit more, and she would finally be closer to fulfilling her dream of becoming a hero! And Niren¡¯s dream¡­ and Setsuna¡¯s too, who had become her, Yui¡¯s, first real friend.

    And most importantly, her dad¡¯s dream.

    Maybe this will finally pull him out of his depression¡­

    Everything was fine. Everything was under control.

    And then it all went sideways.

    When a loud explosion sounded behind her, the ground shook, and screams of terror erupted, Yui was just sizing up where to drive her metal pole into the next robot. Or maybe it¡¯d be better to enlarge a tilted road sign so it¡¯d crush several at once? She touched the sign. Yes, exactly, she¡¯d just¡­

    And then someone shoved her hard in the back¡ªa hysterically screaming dwarf, all covered in big purple balls, like fish eggs. Yui stumbled, fell right onto the arm of a fallen robot, a ¡°Light Villain¡±¡ªflailing on the ground in an attempt to get up because the rest of its body was pinned under the rocket block of a ¡°Heavy.¡±

    At the last moment, her focus shifted, and when her hands touched the wrong object¡­ her Quirk began to enlarge the mechanical manipulator. Oh no, the scientist-san warned that this could happen! Can''t get distracted!

    Shaking her head, Yui tried to push herself up and roll away, but then she immediately felt a sharp weakness, dizziness added to numbness and cold in her legs. She directed her blurry gaze past the robot''s arm and, with horror, saw that the entire bot, now reaching the size of a truck, was enlarging along with it. She tried to cancel her Quirk and move away, but her hands slipped, buckled, her heavy head fell on the sharp metal. ¡°Ohhh¡­¡± she needed to stop¡­ st¡­ sto¡­

    Yui lost consciousness.

    ***

    Currently.

    Training Ground "B," U.A. Academy. Outer wall.

    Niren Shoda.

    Looking back, analyzing the situation, I realized with surprise that everything took just a few minutes. But then... then time flowed differently.

    When I stood frozen at the top of the wall, surveying the scene, I caught sight of a mass of panic-stricken candidates running away from the giant robot, heedless of their path. Likely, the same chaos was unfolding in my own Training Ground "C."

    Survey the surroundings. Minus thirty seconds.

    The trap robot had a massive, hulking form and a rectangular head dotted with a multitude of red visor-eyes. It deliberately and slowly pressed its hand down on a building, crushing it, sending debris tumbling to the ground. Distant screams echoed.

    Meanwhile, the drone altered by Yui seemed to be of the first model. It had grown even larger than the genuine big guy but remained far more fragile in its build, with only a single large visor instead of eight. The enlarged bot slowly swung its head as if trying to understand why the world had become so small¡­ and then, in a voice so deep it made my hair stand on end and resonated somewhere in my chest, it roared, "Kill them all!" before smashing its hand down on a skyscraper. Much faster and stronger than the trap bot. The building crumbled, chunks of concrete flew apart, fortunately over the heads of the fleeing students.

    The overgrown robot slowly rolled forward on its single wheel, crushing the asphalt beneath its weight. Moving toward the children running from the first trap bot.

    The screams grew louder.

    In the face of true disaster¡ªgenuine danger, an enormous threat¡ªthe real traits of a person come to the forefront, not the mask they wear, but who they are underneath.

    I saw several people fall, and no one stopped to help them up.

    Among the fallen was the gravity-controlling girl¡ªthe very one destined to be Izuku¡¯s classmate (by this point, I had resigned myself to likely being expelled from the Academy before even getting in). I recognized her by the floating debris of robots around her. Her leg was pinned under a chunk of concrete, and she was quietly whimpering in pain.

    And there, too, was the protagonist, Midoriya, crawling away in terror from the giant robot with the square head, its hand raised above them. Who would¡¯ve thought I¡¯d end up on this exact battlefield...

    I watched the other candidates race past on the broad avenue, not one of them attempting to help, scattering into the alleys at the sight of another robot up ahead.

    Iida, that perfect student, athlete, and model citizen who shone his glasses and righteousness during the lecture, flew by on his rocket engines. He didn¡¯t extend a hand to help, either.

    And I saw Yui Kodai¡¯s unconscious body a little further down the avenue. She lay on her back, arms outstretched as if trying to push something away. Her dark bob was disheveled like black feathers, revealing a jagged scrape on her forehead. A purple orb, like a grape, was stuck to one of her sleeves. The lagging, slowest, or most foolish runners darted past, but no one helped her.

    I felt a dark rage boiling in my blood.

    And these are supposed to be the future beacons of the hero community?!

    These are my future colleagues and saviors of humanity, symbols of hope and peace?!

    Suppressing the urge to growl, I closed my eyes, exhaled, opened them again, banished all emotion from my mind¡ªthere was no time for that now¡ªand focused.

    Alright. Next steps. Minus ten seconds.

    I focused as intensely as I could, my brain switching to calculator mode.

    Objective one: get to Yui and make sure she is alive and safe. Run to her, gently lift her while supporting her head¡ªshe might have a concussion¡ªpull her away, check for a pulse¡­

    Where¡¯s her marker? She¡¯s lying about fifty meters from the robot, which is currently spinning in place, thrashing its arms around, smashing buildings. Fifty paces from Yui and the anime¡¯s protagonist! Damn it...

    Where are all the U.A. observers, the security team, the professional backup?! My eyes darted across the rooftops, but apart from a couple of frozen students, I saw no one. This is bad.

    Doesn¡¯t matter.

    I can''t rescue all three of them. That means I need to distract and lure the robot away.

    Objective two: How to get down from the wall quickly while remaining relatively intact and combat-ready?

    Solution: already figured out.

    I took one last look at where Yui lay, then took a few steps back, sprinted as much as the width of the wall allowed, and blasted forward with full-strength bursts from my legs to reach the nearest building. I caught hold of a balcony railing with both hands, pulled myself in, and clung on like a tick. The iron railing slammed into my chest painfully, but no injuries otherwise.

    I straightened my arms, hung from them fully extended, looked down... and let go.

    Dropped to the next floor down, caught hold, clung on, hung.

    Let go, caught, clung...

    Repeated a few more times until I reached the ground. A solid way to descend¡ªsome well-known parkour athletes supposedly do this without any safety gear down skyscrapers. At least I have some form of safety.

    Minus twenty seconds.

    Ran toward the robots and the three unlucky victims of this exam. Just don¡¯t be too late, just don¡¯t...

    Running was difficult. My motorcycle boots were fraying and already begging for mercy, though they¡¯d been nearly new just ten minutes ago. I could also feel that tomorrow, my feet would be sporting some impressive bruises. And blood under the nails. I might not even be able to walk properly. I¡¯d had such minor injuries before when I was training my "bunny hopping," but I¡¯d never pushed my quirk this hard.

    At least I was smart enough not to use my "quick sprint technique" without a protective suit.

    Almost there...

    I heard Present Mic¡¯s distant shout: ¡°Two minutes left!¡±...

    And then the protagonist surprised me. Or rather, reminded me that he was the protagonist.

    With my own eyes, I witnessed an extraordinary leap from Izuku, from the very front rows, and froze for a few seconds. The giant robot¡ªthe first one, which by then was nearly upon the petite brunette¡ªwas literally thrown back fifty meters, crashing loudly, fortunately in the opposite direction from us. The kid moved at incredible speed; I almost missed his leap, and he struck with a blow of unimaginable strength¡ªthe shockwave rocked the robot, the buildings, and even us, as a wave of air whipped through.

    I got goosebumps for a moment¡ªuntil I glanced at the second robot and snapped back to solving the tasks at hand.

    Minus five seconds. Move!

    But still... is this who I¡¯m supposed to compete with? My current maximum amplification output is at most one-fifth... no, probably even one-tenth of that punch... Then I wondered for a moment: can Izuku¡¯s scrawny body even channel the peak power of One-for-All? Not handle the load, obviously, but actually channel it? Is the "connection bandwidth" wide enough?

    I don¡¯t think so¡ªthe effects of All Might¡¯s strikes I¡¯ve seen online make even this epic "right hook" seem mild in comparison.

    A glance to the side as I ran made me curse: the crash had caught the attention of the enlarged robot, which had been in a daze in its own world. It started moving toward us.

    I certainly won¡¯t be able to get Yui off the field in time, so I can¡¯t let it get any closer.

    This is bad...

    Meanwhile, Midoriya Izuku started screaming and falling down.

    Objective three: How do I save him? If I jump up to catch him midway... but damn, if my hands are occupied holding him, I won¡¯t be able to generate bursts... I won¡¯t be able to brake...

    But he¡¯s the protagonist!

    But then the other robot will just run over Kodai...

    Alright, if you can¡¯t handle it alone¡ªdelegate!

    I dashed across the robot¡¯s path, constantly looking back.

    The brunette girl rescued by Midoriya stopped staring, easily slipped out from under the rubble simply by using her quirk that makes objects weightless (facepalm...) and tried to save him now¡ªclimbing onto a floating chunk of the "Heavy" robot and preparing to cancel gravity on Midoriya as well.

    Why did she make the robot float, wasting her strength?.. probably so the quirk would have time to activate on Izuku¡ªapparently, the effect isn¡¯t instantaneous.

    But in the middle of her rescue operation, she saw the second robot, by then nearly upon us. Her eyes widened in horror, her hand didn¡¯t reach Izuku, and the boy plummeted to the asphalt, instantly turning into a bloody mess.

    End scene...

    ...

    Just kidding.

    Half-expecting something like this, I managed to catch her panicked look towards me¡ªand the second robot¡ªand yelled:

    "Save him! I¡¯ll deal with this one!"

    I even chuckled nervously: if my interference broke the canon so badly that my training with Yui resulted in the death of the original story¡¯s protagonist, that would be the ultimate irony.

    Running, I finally spotted my friend¡¯s body ahead¡ªthe robot was still thirty meters away¡ªI rushed to her, managed to touch her neck, feel the pulse on her carotid artery¡­

    Phew. She¡¯s alive.

    And then a shadow fell over me.

    I looked up.

    A giant red eye loomed above us¡ªstaring right at me.

    Like Sauron''s tower had come to life and decided that today it¡¯s not you going to Mordor, but it coming to you.

    ¡°I¡¯m fuc*ed :)¡±

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    This is what Niren jumped over and climbed. High, but those buildings are even taller.

    These are the lawns separating two Training Grounds from each other.

    If the wall is ten meters, the lawn is about a hundred.

    This is Iida Tenya, who, as a character, initially didn¡¯t appeal to either the fanfic author or Niren Shoda.

    "What are you doing in my fridge?))"

    And this is the scale of the robots-opponents in this and the next parts of the chapter :)

    <u>Author''s Note:</u>

    Damn, this October started off rough! I had a trip, then dealt with a bunch of problems that needed immediate attention, and yesterday I just passed out when I was supposed to upload, lol. Anyway, I think I¡¯m back now. So is the fic!

 Episode 8. Part IV.

    I slowly got up and, without making any sudden moves, edged away from the damn Evangelion, keeping my eyes fixed on it, moving away from Yui.

    Two meters... five meters... seven meters...

    Then the robot decided to share its opinion:

    "K I L L E V E R Y O N E!"

    "Screw you, arse," I shared.

    "One minute left!" Mic cheerfully threw in his two cents.

    For some reason, the killer robot only heard me, and it didn''t seem to like my impromptu comment. It raised a massive armored arm, more like a naval battleship, and slammed it down where I had been standing.

    Well, I managed to get its attention and divert it from the others. Hopefully, Izuku survived.

    A push with my quirk to my legs. Rolled to the opposite side from Kodai. The shockwave hit; the ground trembled, causing me to topple over at the end of the roll.

    A piece of concrete painfully dug into my shoulder, tearing through both my hoodie and the skin underneath.

    Dust rose, and I coughed while moving away.

    Task number four: how to take down this eloquent bastard?

    Not talking about Mic here.

    I see only one weak spot in this enemy. Besides the giant ball joint it''s standing on, but I can''t do much with that, and I need to draw it away, not immobilize it.

    I sprinted past the robot, circling it and leading it away.

    Glanced to the side.

    Midoriya... got caught, phew. "I wonder, if she hadn''t made it and All Might hadn''t backed him up, would he have survived?" flashed through my mind. "He probably would have... he''s the protagonist."

    Alright, enough of calling him that. He''s a living person, and I''m not in some kid''s cartoon.

    With that brilliant insight, I focused on the task¡ªon the robot, and dashed to the side. The robot responded¡ªcreakily, literally¡ªbut followed me.

    Near the buildings, I spotted a couple of applicants and yelled:

    "There''s a girl behind the robot! Wake her up, and he''ll shrink! It''s her quirk!"

    I don''t know if they''ll bother, but U.A. will certainly react.

    When is this damn exam going to end...

    With that thought, I turned, accelerated, and closed in on the robot. Oddly, I didn''t feel fear. Just a burning desire to finish this quickly.

    Leaping two meters in a burst of speed, I smacked its leg joint. And leaped another two meters up. There was some sort of protrusion, which I grabbed onto, setting four new markers in place. Lucky. With a quick "hop," I reached something that could be considered its knee. Climbed onto it, refreshed the markers, and jumped off.

    I was practically running up it like I had earlier along the wall, maneuvering with my hands. A maniacal grin spread across my face: I am awesome! Did you see that?! I can do this! I am a superhero!

    The robot was slowing down. It probably hadn''t realized where I was yet. Well, then this might be easier than I expec...

    A sharp pain shot through my left ankle, and my foot slipped off the smooth surface of the robot''s shoulder, causing me to smash my knee against it too.

    An inward ankle sprain, I could immediately tell.

    Wincing from the searing pain engulfing my leg, I hung onto the slope of the steel wall like a sad cat.

    Damn it. I knew there was a catch to how they all leap around giant robots in anime...

    Nevertheless, I still had three functioning limbs, markers and I had reached the weak spot. I''ll have time to pity myself later.

    Pushing off with my right leg, propelling myself with a powerful Multiplier and maneuvering with my left hand, I found myself directly in front of the robot''s face. Right in front of the giant red well that was its visual sensor. With my right fist already drawn back, I poured everything into it¡ªmy fatigue, my fury, the speed I had built up, and years of training.

    And yes¡ªI executed the only move possible for me: replicating Midoriya''s direct punch from a minute earlier, aiming at the only vulnerable spot I could see: the big, red visor, which for a split second reflected my contorted face.

    I even managed to spit out something dramatic like, "Goodnight on the junkyard."

    But... here''s the problem: subconsciously, I expected the armor to be as weak as the other bots¡ªfragile. After all, I''d smashed so many by this point...

    But I was wrong.

    The bot was much tougher than the training models¡ªso much tougher that it felt like I had slammed my fist into a concrete wall. Or more accurately, a steel wall.

    "Damn it..." I hissed through clenched teeth, activating the maximum enhancement available to me for the punch.

    My right hand hurt like hell and wouldn''t respond; I had probably broken it again. A belated realization hit me, and I groaned at my stupidity: "Of course, it''s tougher! Yui''s quirk strengthens and thickens objects!"

    Well, at least the multiplied punch was glorious¡ªthe square head of the stupid robot literally caved in, the red visor cracked and shattered, scattering in a beautiful burst of red sparks. The robot rocked back...

    And straightened back up.

    Shit!

    Desperately, I grabbed onto the nearest protrusion with my left hand¡ªthe frame around the visor¡ªand pulled myself toward the robot''s face. I somehow found a foothold with my left leg. It hurt, but I could manage. Anger surged through me. Oh, I am furious, I''m scared of myself right now, run, you sorry Megazord!

    If one punch with my right, even at maximum power, wasn''t enough, I''ll go for quantity! And the muscles in my legs are much stronger, so the peak force will be comparable!

    So, gripping the handle with my left hand with all my might, I swung back and kicked the damn metal face with my right foot. And boosted the impact, nearly throwing myself off in the process.

    And again.

    And again.

    Like a madman, I growled, yelled, spat, and fiercely kicked and kicked the poor robot that had done no real harm to anyone, right in its stupid face, enhancing each boot to the maximum and causing something like small thunderclaps.

    A model hero, right.

    Eventually, it seemed to dawn on the robot that it was being killed, but it couldn''t swat me away, likely due to the relentless kicks that threw off its coordination¡ªits arms flailing uselessly in the air.

    Every hit on the metal sent vibrations through it, causing my left arm to go numb, and I was only holding on by some miracle. I wasn''t even thinking about how I''d get down. I was, apparently, not thinking at all, a berserk maniac.

    I snarled furiously:

    "Take that! Fall, you big piece of iron shit, you fell for the protagonist, so fall here too! Screw you, screw you, screw you!"

    The robot still tried feebly to swipe at me with its stumpy arms, each time slower, but I was lucky that it was generally from the slow-witted series, and thanks to the short-circuiting from Yui''s quirk (which, I remind you, tortures electronics mercilessly), it was even dumber.

    For this reason, as I had suspected, and later confirmed, the now-dangerous robot couldn''t be shut down by U.A.¡ªthe signal simply didn''t go through. A nice little hole in the security system.

    In total, I managed to land about a dozen psychotic attacks.

    At some point, something sparked, and I was sprayed with some black, oily muck right from the thoroughly hammered head of the robot. I shook my head, stopping my assault, and started spitting (you should never break eye contact with an enemy). Damn, this liquid is "transfigured," damn it! Spit it out, quickly!

    Luckily, there was no need to hit anymore.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    The bot, no longer just a lightweight "Lightweight" one, froze, convulsed, then collapsed lifelessly, right under my feet.

    It started rapidly shrinking mid-fall.

    "Great," I managed to think, "Yui is okay..."

    Then I started falling after it.

    "Not great, I''m not okay..."

    "Oh, crap! Aaaah!"

    I desperately flailed my useless, mangled limbs in the air.

    Just like Midoriya a minute earlier. Oh, what a wonderful comparison to a rocket-powered nerd.

    "Shit, shit, shit! How will I..."

    All Might, Endeavour, or someone, please catch me, save me, please!

    "...land..."

    I don''t want to be splattered like pat¨¦! I don''t like meat at all! I''m vegan now!

    "...with a broken..."

    Okay. Straighten the body.

    "...arm!?"

    Damn, the arm... I bit my lip because swearing wasn''t going to help now.

    Nobody''s going to help me; I don''t have a grateful, rescued girl... well, I do, but she''s out cold and wouldn¡¯t be much help anyway. And if All Might didn''t rescue his own successor from the threat of becoming two dimensional, they definitely won''t bother to save me.

    Balanced. Now look around.

    A funny movie flashed through my memory, where some daring guys were flying... on a tank.

    Find a suitable building.

    A flat roof.

    There''s one, about four meters to the right.

    "Time''s up!" I heard Mic''s taunting voice, which somehow seemed to sound right in my ear.

    Issue a boost in that direction...

    ... none left in reserve!...

    Create it, then.

    Swinging my arm, I hit my thigh with all my might with my left hand, after which my body was literally thrown in the right direction by two impulses¡ªone from my left palm and the other from the thigh of my left much-abused leg. I even screamed. It''s painful, let me tell you, to take the recoil of maximum amplification on your thigh!

    However, not as painful as landing on the concrete roof from about seven meters, on my side. I managed to roll and turn away, but my broken arm was in the way, and the roof had such a stylish and convenient angular ledge that I just had to hit. Right with my back. And with my elbow too! Calculated perfectly!

    There was a distinct crack on the right side. My breath caught, it felt like electricity shot through my spine, and my ribs, it seemed, decided to resign and go freelance.

    I was tossed, rolled a few times, and just managed to stay conscious.

    All I could do was wheeze, clutch my side, and listen to that damn Mic:

    "Yes, yes, time''s up; it even applies to you, our guest from another field! No exceptions in U.A.! Unless it concerns exceptionally high expulsion rate, hehehe!"

    Oh, you... he''s even mocking me... though maybe he''s just keeping me awake?

    Finally, I managed to inhale. Now all that was left was to lie still, breathe shallowly, and hope that someone found me before one of my broken ribs pierced a lung or liver.

    And only now, lying on the roof, did I realize how much my broken wrist, along with my ribs, hip, back, and elbow, hurt like hell, how fiercely my feet were screaming, how unbearably my head was pounding, how my whole body was trembling from fatigue and adrenaline, and how desperately I wanted to sleep. A colossal weakness had settled in. Well, of course, I''d issued more than a dozen maximum multipliers... not to mention a few hundred normal ones¡­ my eyes were starting to close on their own; even the pain wasn''t helping to keep me conscious.

    "David wins..." I groaned, weakly trying to raise my left hand in the air. "Flaw...less...vic...to..."

    Sleep.

    ***

    Same Time.

    Observation Post of the Examination Commission. Underground Complex of U.A. Academy, Number Nine (the one beneath the network of Traininng Grounds. No, the faculty cafeteria isn¡¯t here! It''s to the right along the central corridor!).

    Principal Nezu.

    "See? I told you right away, this group is full of promise! Did you see that? And why did he do it, did you see? He was protecting a girl¡­ oh, how romantic," Nemuri Kayama pranced on the spot and hugged herself in a most inappropriate manner. "He caught my eye immediately. He didn¡¯t even glance at me. Ah, how wonderful it would be to see how he''d protect that girl¡­ from me."

    She slowly licked her lips, staring at the screen where, in one of the many open video windows, examinee number five thousand four hundred thirty six (thankfully labeled) distracted a giant robot away from an unconscious girl, then practically ran up the robot to turn the drone''s head into a metal cutlet in mere seconds. The recording was already on its third replay.

    The young ("I said, young!") heroine, known for her scandalous behavior¡ªsuch as superhero costumes that were way beyond the pale, or photoshoots for adult magazines¡ªwas known to the public as Midnight, the Eighteen-Plus Heroine.

    People don''t care that her quirk, which emits a sleep-inducing scent from her body, is more effective the less clothing she''s wearing... as a result, Nemuri has been called all sorts of names. "Stripper" is probably the tamest and most polite.

    However, Midnight paid no heed even to much harsher insults. And anyone present, who knew anything about her background, understood why¡ªeveryone knew that after the kind of childhood Nemuri had in her school years, such behavior was forgivable. It was a relief that she had even survived... or hadn''t become a villain.

    The "pervert" and "pedophile" turned to the tiny figure of the Academy''s principal, who was watching the spectacle of the students fighting big robots with the glee of a child. Yet, no one in the observation post was fooled by him either: Nezu only acted childishly when he could afford it.

    At other times... well, better to face all the prisoners of Tartarus combined than this creature.

    "Principal Nezu," boomed white-haired Kan Sekijiro, better known as Blood King Vlad, a professional hero who controlled his own blood and the homeroom teacher of Class 1-B. "Who did you slip into my Ground? This girl is a nightmare; she was in ten places at once at a height of a hundred meters. I couldn¡¯t even catch her with your damn elevator. How do you expect me to cover her?"

    Nezu simply smiled in response.

    Few knew this even among the heroes, except for the staff, of course, but most of the Academy''s area was underground. For example, all the Training Grounds, where both entrance exams and regular student training took place, were connected by a network of corridors and numerous shafts of a "horizontal" high-speed elevator that, frankly, looked more like an armored train. And there were countless disguised hatches leading to the surface.

    Using these invisible paths, during the exams, several U.A. faculty heroes were discreetly on duty under each of the active Grounds. They worked in shifts since almost everyone wanted to watch the exams. And if needed, they could reach almost any point in a Ground in a minute and a half at most.

    Considering this, along with the help of the Recovery Girl, who could get most serious patients back on their feet in a few minutes, remotely controlled robots that could do far more than just take hits, and probably the best medical equipment in the country outside the Central Hospital in Tokyo, this exam was as safe as such an exam¡ªwith students and robots¡ªcould be.

    At least, up until this point, there hadn''t been any casualties among the examinees.

    As for Midnight¡¯s new interest... meaning, the examinee number five thousand four hundred thirty six, help had already been dispatched to him in the form of the Recovery Girl and a couple of assistant drones with stretchers. As well as to the young lad All Might had requested assistance for.

    It''s worth keeping a closer eye on both, and perhaps even inviting them for a chat. And not just them. Nezu couldn''t recall another time with so many raw talents among the applicants¡ªso many in just one year. Good thing that besides these two, there hadn¡¯t been any serious injuries.

    In reality, the Academy took great care of the health and safety of its future students, even if it created the illusion of the complete opposite for the sake of toughening them up.

    The principal was fond of analogies and, for instance, often compared their applicants to unrefined ore¡ªfrom which, through various processes like extreme bending, heating, and alloying, they create the perfect, balanced...

    No, of course, what weapon? We¡¯re not barbarians. Instrument¡ªthat¡¯s the right word.

    An instrument, a component for the proper functioning of society. A very important one!

    Actually, the end of the exam always reminded him of an afterparty following a party (though, perhaps, only Midnight would appreciate such a comparison, so Nezu kept it to himself). The teachers would rise from their chairs, the duty officers from the commission (which still included almost all the U.A. heroes) would return from their posts, and then everyone would disperse along the enormous screen, where the brightest scenes and the most promising examinees were broadcast in small windows. Nobody spoke about it directly, but everyone was scouting for a potential personal student.

    Toshinori Yagi, also known as the magnificent, albeit significantly weakened All Might, was watching the recording of his green-haired prot¨¦g¨¦''s leap with a happy smile on his exhausted face... but every now and then, he glanced at a similar scene involving a blue-haired boy.

    Suffice it to say, Training Ground "B" was the focus of attention today.

    Well, not for everyone. Ryo Inui, baring his teeth in a grin, was rewatching a recording of a student from Ground "A," creating explosions and scoring the maximum points for villains; Midnight got distracted by the boy controlling the fog; and Shota Aizawa, frowning, was rewatching a recording from Ground "C."

    "Principal," he addressed Nezu in a low voice, "I¡¯ve said many times that your testing method is subjective. But here''s another proof."

    "Hmm? What''s that, Aizawa-kun?"

    "It seems that someone managed to pass it this time without using their quirk even once..."

    Nezu couldn¡¯t help but clap his hands again. What a wonderful year!

    Then All Might spoke up:

    "I don¡¯t want to get into an old argument, Aizawa, but the main value of this test is to identify true heroes in the face of immense danger. The essence of a hero''s profession lies in the spirit of self-sacrifice! Today, two people demonstrated that! No other test could have shown that. You know, I''m against unnecessary injuries, but..."

    Eraser Head merely snorted and turned away, adjusting his "scarf."

    Ryo, the Hound Dog hero, growled disapprovingly, jabbing a claw at the monitor (barely scratching it again):

    "One of these ''two'' left the exam! Not allowed! Doesn¡¯t count!"

    And yes, sometimes his speech did sound more like barking. But who among us is without flaws?

    Toshinori retorted passionately, not even noticing the thin trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth in his excitement:

    "And that was the act of a true hero! We cannot turn away from such a sacrifice," he turned to Nezu, "Can we?"

    Midnight also jumped into the conversation, standing right behind Yagi:

    "But we could let them stew in uncertainty for a week¡­ marinate in despair..."

    All Might shivered and edged away.

    "Yes, Toshinori-kun, you are absolutely right. We won¡¯t, it would be, at the very least, ungrateful, not to mention that the exam rules don¡¯t prohibit leaving the test location. And the young man not only saved his friend but also instantly understood the situation, which may have saved us from a tragedy. And a big scandal."

    "But who could have known the girl¡¯s quirk would affect the robot''s insides like that?" Higari Maijima, also known as the hero Loader, one of the country''s top engineers, and incidentally, one of the developers of the Academy''s defense system, which included the network of defense robots, protested (but very carefully, this was still the principal).

    Old ones among them were disarmed, stripped of their composite armor, and sent to the exams¡ªessentially for free disposal.

    And yes, that was indeed a jab in his direction.

    "He did," Nezu pointed a fluffy finger at the screen with the blue-haired boy who was now being revived, "he could have."

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Observation Center at U.A. And perhaps a quote from Midnight herself.

    The smartest hero (Principal Nezu, left) and the strongest hero (All Might, right) delighting in others'' blood, pain, and broken limbs.

    And here is Midnight herself. Well, what can I say... I won¡¯t promise she¡¯ll have a major role; she¡¯s too much of a fanservice character, but she does have her own important part in the fanfic :)

    I''ve actually hinted at this role in the chapter, so maybe someone will guess.

    Also, a funny fact: she was initially planned to be the homeroom teacher of Class A.

 Episode 9. "Building bridges".

    <u>Author''s Note 1:</u>

    Did you spot the mention of Himiko Toga during the exam? :)

    I''ve moved the answer about where she was implied to the end of this chapter, so you can either guess the answer yourself or scroll straight down.

    Upon opening my eyes, for several seconds, I couldn''t figure out where I was.

    An unfamiliar white ceiling¡­ some plastic curtains¡­ white walls with a greenish tint¡­ and for some reason, a blue floor. I was lying down. A bed. Metal. Okay¡­ not restrained, that''s good. Clean. A white sheet over my body. Okay¡­ not covered over my head - also good! I''m not naked. And not cold. So, not a morgue. Very good!

    Finally, the neighboring bed was occupied by someone, but exactly who it was remained hidden behind a nightstand and a half-drawn curtain. Well, ¡°curtain¡±¡­ it was more of a white, semi-transparent screen, barely reaching the chest of a lying person. Essentially pointless.

    Japanese people, generally, are highly considerate of personal space due to being extremely limited in living space, and always strive to maintain even the smallest aspects of it. However, this often takes absurd forms, like paper walls where you can hear and sometimes even see everything. Or the complete disregard of any improper things if a person is ¡°in their personal space,¡± even though everyone sees and hears everything.

    Then I remembered I had been injured.

    I jerked up, felt myself over, examined - everything was intact, ribs and arm were fine, and my charisma and charm were still present. No pain. The thigh was intact. Checked the ribs again - still intact! And as for my privates, there''s no need to check - after defeating such a robot, I now know for sure that they¡¯re made of steel, nothing can damage them.

    Joked. Cheered myself up. Began to recall.

    I remember the blue sky. Uh¡­ I was lying on a roof, it seems. And someone was babbling loudly¡­ It seemed the exam was still going on¡­ wait. I had already remembered the robot. And the victory¡­ oh, right! Robots! Lots of robots! And buildings! Walls! Students! And despite all these obstacles, full of courage and swagger, I survived!

    I looked around the room with a new perspective. So, this means I¡¯m in the U.A. infirmary?

    Someone rustled behind the screen on the left.

    Could it be a cute girl?

    Then there was a loud but incomprehensible yell about something related to Almighty-something and zero points on the exam, and a green-haired boy tried to jump out of his bed, ending up tangled in the sheets.

    Ah, the protago¡­ I mean, Izuku Midoriya (Izuku is his first name, by the way).

    Well, it makes sense; we were in the same arena at the end and even got hurt in a similar way. Only I still have ringing in my ear, but that''s thanks to you, brother.

    I looked at him sympathetically. I understand, I was just remembering where I was and what happened myself.

    Izuku finally noticed he wasn¡¯t alone in the infirmary, and instantly stopped his outburst, blushing. Looking away, he continued to weakly tug at the end of the sheet, trying to free himself from the white prison.

    "You''re sitting on it," I extended a metaphorical hand to help.

    "E-ex-excuse me?"

    "You. Are sitting. On the sheet. And that''s why¡­"

    "Oh! Oh, oh, thank you, sorry¡­"

    The kid untangled himself.

    We continued to sit in silence.

    I checked the time with my "spatial" perception. Two in the afternoon. Aha, it means we were out for almost three hours. And rightly so, both the body and the mind needed rest after such injuries and impressions.

    Then, noticing that the humidity in the room was starting to rise, I decided not to wait until the guy started crying in front of me and took matters into my own hands.

    No matter how it looked, it was vital for me to establish contact with this oddball. The sooner, the better. I know that right now he doesn''t make anyp?o?s?i?t?i?v?e impression, but later¡­

    After all, I have to fight alongside him in the future.

    Even if I''ve failed years of preparation and the entrance exam due to my detour to another Training Ground and end up not getting into U.A.

    Right. Let¡¯s not think about that for now.

    ¡°Hey¡­ I¡¯m Niren. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    I extended my real hand this time, slightly leaning over the bed, and he, hesitating, cautiously shook it. Apparently, he was afraid of breaking my limb with his newfound strength. Or he was afraid of social interaction with somebody that awesome. Or just was afraid.

    And yeah¡­ screw the honorifics.

    ¡°I-Izuku. M-m-midoriya.¡±

    ¡°Why are you looking so down, Izuku Midoriya? I saw your jump; it was very, very cool. And truly heroic.¡± I gave him a broad smile, feeling like some sort of therapist-teacher at school. ¡°You didn¡¯t do it for the points, did you? You did it to save that girl?¡±

    The boy blushed, nodded, looked down, and started poking his fingers together.

    ¡°The t-thing is¡­ I didn¡¯t score, well, a single point¡­ a big fat zero. And thanks to the trial tests, I know I was b-b-barely p-passing on theory¡­¡±

    Wow. I didn¡¯t think he hadn¡¯t beaten a single robot. They¡¯re¡­ well, quite beatable.

    And what should I say to him?

    Okay, let¡¯s start by cheering him up.

    "Let''s start with the fact that you picked a cute girl. You¡¯ve got good taste, Izuku! Want to ask her out on a date?"

    I grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

    And started counting the moments.

    At first, he looked at me with confusion. Then he froze. His eyes widened in shock, he blushed again, tried to say something, but stuttered so badly he couldn¡¯t say anything at all, flailed his arms around, and nearly fell off the bed.

    There he is, the greatest hero of the land, ladies and gentlemen. Struck down by the mere suggestion that he could spend his time not with villains (here I should arch my brows meaningfully, but I can''t quite manage that).

    ¡°¡­no, no, I¡­ it¡¯s not that¡­ how could I¡­ I mean¡­¡±

    ¡°All right, sorry,¡± I raised my empty hands, trying not to laugh, ¡°just joking. I didn¡¯t mean to offend or embarrass you, just, well¡­ lighten the mood.¡±

    ¡°Really? O-oh¡­ actually¡­,¡± the boy pondered for a second, nodded, and with cheerful surprise remarked, ¡°I didn¡¯t know you could start a conversation like that¡­ hmm¡­ a psychological jolt to ¡®lift¡¯ the victim of emotional trauma¡­ yeah, but it¡¯s suitable only for heroes with a certain, rather free-spirited image¡­. let¡¯s say, if we assume that Niren-san¡­¡±

    He paused again, filling the room with his muttering. I watched this with a frozen smile.

    Honestly, it''s quite fascinating to watch him! You throw in some stimulus, and he responds in a certain way. Like a neural network learning in real time, haha.

    However, everything takes on a much darker tone when you remember that this is a real fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy who is so socially unadapted that he completely forgets his own behavior if he gets distracted by some detail. What kind of life did he lead, for crying out loud, if he¡¯s this disconnected from his own social image? Did everyone really not care about him this much?

    ¡°Oh, sorry, I was lost in thought! Again¡­¡±

    ¡°No worries. Does this happen to you often?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± he scratched his head innocently and laughed awkwardly, ¡°sometimes. Do you, Niren-san¡­ I mean, do you, Niren¡­ do you know if we can leave already? I wouldn¡¯t want to be a bother¡­ and my mom is probably worried¡­¡±

    I shook my head. I need you here right now.

    ¡°I think we should stay put until a certified medical professional confirms we can go. You broke every bone in your body a few hours ago, as I understand.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true¡­ I¡¯m not quite used to situations like this.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, there¡¯s more to come. Can you imagine how often heroes get injured and end up at the doctor¡¯s? Especially with a power like yours.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ well, yeah¡­ but I failed the exam¡­¡±

    Midoriya turned towards the window, clearly swallowing a lump in his throat.

    Aha, it¡¯s time.

    ¡°You know, when you have free time¡­ google ¡®rescue points¡¯ for the U.A. exam,¡± I casually said, pulling out my smartphone and scrolling through missed calls.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Izuku sharply turn. The gleam of hope was blinding, even though I wasn¡¯t directly looking at him.

    ¡°But the Present Mic didn¡¯t say anything about such points¡­¡±

    Interesting, how could he have missed this in the first place? Unless he was so busy with training and studying that he never even opened the forums. Yes, yes, officially they don''t talk about it. But if you pretend your head is for more than just stuffing food into...

    I put the phone aside.

    ¡°Look. You acted, from every angle, one hundred percent correctly if you consider your actions as those of a hero. And do you really think that All Might, as well as all the other teachers of the best hero academy in the country, would reject the only guy from his entire Training Ground who acted heroically correctly?¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°O-oh¡­¡± Izuku muttered. It seemed that only his manners, shyness, and a desire to first grab his phone and call the one we were discussing prevented him from pulling out a notebook and frantically writing down my improvised conclusions.

    Then he frowned.

    ¡°And how does Niren-san know that All Might will be teaching at the Academy?¡±

    Oops.

    Mentally, I was banging my head on the table. Fifteen damn years living in this reality, and I still haven¡¯t learned to keep my mouth shut when necessary.

    ¡°They wrote about it online,¡± the non-mental me put on a poker face, ¡°speculating on forums that he¡¯d been seen in this city several times. And in general - he graduated from here, probably any day now there will be a press conference announcing it.¡±

    The boy got lost in thought again while I caught my breath.

    Then Izuku timidly spoke up again:

    ¡°But you, Niren-san¡­¡±

    ¡°Ahem-ahem.¡±

    ¡°..y-you, Niren..?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re the same age,¡± yeah, right, ¡°and to be honest, I can¡¯t stand all these honorifics and formalities. I¡¯ve been waiting to get into an international school where we can just call each other by last names.¡±

    ¡°Well, alright¡­ so¡­ you¡¯re wrong, Niren-kun¡­ Niren. You¡¯re wrong in saying I was the only one who acted correctly at the Ground! Because you did the same! No, even better¡­ I saw¡­¡±

    By the end of his speech, Izuku had gotten all fired up, almost jumping out of bed, radiating intense admiration for heroism in all its manifes¡­ wait a minute.

    Oh.

    As I realized after half a minute, I had changed the canon after all. I mean, its main storyline. While I was running around punching the robot in the face, it looks like Midoriya was healed and caught earlier - ¡°that cute girl with gravity¡± had some help. Apparently, this happened because the second robot was out of control, and the teachers came ¡°out into the light¡± earlier to be safe.

    As a result, he saw what I did. I don¡¯t know if this is good or bad¡­ I¡¯ll have to live with it either way. Although maybe, for my goal of establishing a relationship with him, this is excellent¡­ but if he now starts looking up to me with adoration in his eyes before every phrase I say, I¡¯ll just kill him. And bury him. And become the protagonist myself, hahaha!!!

    Still joking, guys. Haven¡¯t you gotten used to it already?

    Meanwhile, Midoriya, blushing (I need to do something about that. Should I take him to a brothel? Arrange a late-night porn marathon?), shared that my actions had served as an example for him of how he should have acted himself. Apparently, I retained my ability to act and managed to survive on my own, whereas he was caught by the whole crowd after just one hit.

    Before responding to him, I tried to adopt a nonchalant demeanor¡­ but it probably didn¡¯t work very well. After all, I¡¯m not made of steel myself.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t quite get it right. The thing is¡­ maybe I did everything efficiently - though it took me more than ten hits where you managed with one - but I was originally assigned to another Training Ground. ¡®C,¡¯ to be precise. And, um¡­ I ran away from it to join you. That¡¯s the story. So¡­ haha¡­ it¡¯s more likely that I won¡¯t be accepted into U.A.¡±

    Well, to hell with it. I certainly won¡¯t brood over this... too much. Anyway, I¡¯ll know the results in a week.

    ¡°But why?..¡± Midoriya¡¯s huge eyes widened in sincere sympathetic confusion. Damn, he should have been born a girl. ¡°It¡¯s, well¡­ the U.A. Academy entrance exam! Why would anyone risk so much?!¡±

    I sighed. Why not share?

    ¡°You see, seeing through the wall of my Ground a robot that was growing, I immediately knew whose quirk could be the cause. My school friend was also taking the exam with you. Her quirk can make things smaller. Or bigger. Or, as it turns out now, much bigger. It so happened that we studied her quirk together several times¡­¡±

    By the end of the story, Midoriya¡¯s head was exhausted from nodding in agreement, his mouth was tired from muttering all sorts of theories, and his eyes once again looked like they were worth five yen (honestly, there wasn¡¯t a single Japanese feature in his appearance). I swear, this kid cracks me up.

    ¡°But you acted correctly!¡± he exclaimed, having regained his composure. ¡°Just as correctly as I did! Even better!¡±

    Amazing. Now he¡¯s consoling me. This kid learns quickly¡­

    Overall, conversations with Midoriya have a specific feel. On the surface, he seems like a total nerd, a weakling, a wimp, and other unflattering terms. But scratch just a little deeper during a dialogue - and suddenly there¡¯s a sharp, perceptive, I would even say, dangerously inventive mind.

    Add to this his unyielding heroic ideals, as well as an unreasonably high pain threshold and strong will, which I knew from the future - and it becomes clear why he will become the next All Might. It''s already becoming evident.

    As we continued talking further, I was surprised to discover that we have something in common, despite all of Izuku¡¯s overall¡­ schoolboyish¡­ sappy constitution. He felt like¡­ like my younger, awkward, and somewhat naive brother, whom I hadn¡¯t seen in a long time. But we used to live next to each other a long time ago. Curious.

    And if you think about it, I also had¡ªand still have, though not to the same extent¡ªa habit of getting lost in deep thoughts, pondering over things that don''t seem all that relevant...

    At that moment, our dialogue was interrupted:

    ¡°Ho-ho¡­ you¡¯re already awake, kiddos?¡±

    A small, gray-haired, hunched-over old lady slowly appeared on the scene. Midoriya paused mid-sentence, staring at her like¡­ I don¡¯t know, like a rabbit at a wolf.

    ¡°Well, well¡­ come closer, I have something for you,¡± this sweet old woman hobbled over to us, leaning on a cane shaped like a large¡­ toy¡­ syringe? Wut.

    She set the cane aside. Stuck her hand in her pocket. And held out her palm to each of us.

    There were candies. In bright wrappers.

    I stared at them, raising an eyebrow.

    Midoriya, muttering his thanks, grabbed the colorful wrappers but didn¡¯t hurry to unwrap them either.

    ¡°Hm¡­ I see you¡¯re both little distrustful tsunderes, hehe¡­ well, well. My name is Chiyo Shuzenji, although I¡¯m often called the Recovery Girl. I¡¯m the school nurse at the Academy! The head nurse, mind you, hehe¡­ and it was me who treated you after the exam. You need sweets to replenish your cell energy reserves. So eat, eat, don¡¯t be shy. Both of you were tried to be awakened on the Ground¡¯s¡­ well, grounds, but both of you needed sleep so much that we decided to let you rest here with me. Eat up!¡±

    Midoriya scattered into dozens of little Midoriyas in gratitude and started eating.

    I thanked her politely and pocketed the candies. I don¡¯t like sweets.

    The Chinese-looking granny slowly reached her chair by a desk piled high with documents, which I hadn¡¯t noticed before behind the curtain, and, sitting down, began to watch adoringly as Midoriya diligently choked on caramels.

    And then I felt some kind of¡­ deceit, I don¡¯t know.

    You see, in the years I¡¯ve lived in this world, I¡¯ve gotten used to its, mm, you could say, constant, stable madness. It can be absurd, it can be strange, bright, and psychedelic, and that¡¯s the only constant. Look, a cane shaped like a toy syringe - that I get, that¡¯s just how things are here.

    The only thing this world isn¡¯t is calm and ordinary. There¡¯s always something inadequate and still provoking a rush of mixed emotions in me.

    However, this Chiyo looked like the most stereotypical, textbook-wise, wise with years and life, slightly grumpy but still kind grandmother you could find in any legend, in any anime, in any story, really. And it looked so normal, calm, and ordinary that it made my hair stand on end. Because it looked too¡­ artificial. Unnatural. It doesn¡¯t happen like this. And these candies¡­

    Honestly, it feels like someone meticulously, step-by-step constructed the image of a kind grandma from a drama. And now is carefully adhering to it.

    But why would anyone create such an image? And why maintain it in the society that has formed? Especially in the Academy?

    To make it easier to interact with children? But we¡¯re no longer school kids¡­ I mean, not elementary schoolers.

    And who would consciously choose such a lifestyle?...

    That¡¯s when chills ran down my spine.

    Only someone with something to hide.

    I tried to recall everything I had read about her online. She had worked at U.A. for forty years¡­ a highly respected person among the entire staff¡­ a nurse, meaning she had only a basic professional medical education¡­ that was all.

    The information was extremely scarce, and when I say "extremely," I mean there were far more details about Eraser Head¡ªShota Aizawa¡ªon the internet, even though he had never worked publicly and was generally more paranoid than I was, hiding as many facts about his biography as possible.

    And her professional hero name, "Recovery Girl," wasn¡¯t mentioned anywhere except on U.A.''s official website. No newspaper articles, no old photos or hero teams¡­ nothing.

    I managed to dig up at least some information about every U.A. teacher except the headmaster, Nezu¡ªand her.

    But, if you think about it, even in these tiny bits of information, there¡¯s something to latch onto. A small contradiction, or rather, a simple question: why, if she worked here for over forty years, didn¡¯t Chiyo obtain a higher nursing degree? Or even a medical one¡ªsurely the Academy could arrange that. Does she rely solely on her quirk? Well, we¡¯re in an educational institution right now, one that''s supposed to teach future heroes NOT to do that.

    And yes, the biggest mystery: why ¡°Recovery Girl¡±? Not grandmother, not woman, not lady, like Lady Mountain, but specifically girl?

    I find it hard to believe that she could have been using this pro-hero name forty years ago and simply kept it, because if that were the case, there would be some information about her! So, either the hero name was adopted recently, or it wasn¡¯t used at all.

    But, in that case, what could prompt an elderly woman to take on the nickname ¡°Girl¡±? Again, it¡¯s unlikely that U.A. would keep an employee who wasn¡¯t right in the head, even despite such an amazing quirk. After all, there are other healers and medics¡ªthey are extremely rare, yes, but they exist.

    Unless it¡¯s a joke. A completely harmless one. And I¡¯ve just made up a conspiracy theory out of thin air...

    Lost in thought, I completely drifted out of the conversation and was caught off guard when Recovery Girl started asking me about my well-being. I felt great, accepted a second serving of candies and again put them in my pocket (I¡¯ll feed them to Setsuna later), so soon both Izuku and I, along with our things, were humorously but sternly kicked out of the nurse¡¯s domain.

    And there, as it turned out, I was awaited.

    Let¡¯s leave aside the next five minutes, which were filled with awkwardness so concentrated it could be cut into cubes.

    We¡¯ll skip over Setsuna rushing at me with hugs, exclaiming how she ¡°missed everything.¡±

    We¡¯ll skip over the dozens of bows from our resident samurai, Yui, who, out of a rational sense of gratitude and an irrational sense of guilt, suppressed her emotions and hid behind a facade of utmost respect. Nervously tugging at the hem of her skirt all the while, yeah. I hope I managed to convey to her that everything was truly fine and that I just did what any normal friend would do in my place.

    And we¡¯ll skip over the suffering of the unfortunate Izuku Midoriya, feeling utterly out of place in this celebration of life and trying to quietly slip away. But the evil me didn¡¯t let him. So the guy just tried to find a darker, less noticeable corner in the fully open, well-lit, and long hallway where we stood, right in the middle.

    Teens around me can be so exhausting sometimes¡­

    Finally, with the preliminaries over, we headed for the exit, fortunately guided by Setsuna, who sometimes proves very useful. She had already divided, scouted the way and come back together. I didn¡¯t particularly flaunt my ability to navigate. Though, frankly, I didn¡¯t really hide it either.

    And yes, during my inevitable recounting of events, I tried every trick in the book to shake that stiffness out of Midoriya by praising his actions. Justifiably so, really. By the end of my monologue and our journey through the Academy corridors, he even dared to insert a few words into my story.

    I actually got a bit worried: wouldn¡¯t the virgin soul of this nerd ascend to the next world from such close contact with girls?

    ¡°Niren Shoda, don¡¯t keep us waiting! What happened next?!¡±

    At this point, the boy recoiled and stared at me in shock:

    ¡°W-w-wait, N-n-niren is your n-n-name?! Oh, I-I¡¯m s-so s-sorry for the f-familiarity, I j-just thought¡­¡±

    ¡°Forget it. I like it better that way.¡±

    ¡°Oh-oh¡­¡± The boy¡¯s world had been turned upside down so many times in the last few hours that it seemed it was threatening to spin like a top.

    Anyway, I stubbornly continued the story despite all these obstacles.

    Most of them were named Setsuna.

    The aforementioned Setsuna, as usual, ignored all my comments¡ªshe''s like that; until the shit hits the fan, she will be like the grasshopper that ¡°sang all summer long.¡± But I did notice Yui¡¯s attentive, appraising look. Girls can be so different sometimes¡­

    At the end of my speech, Setsundere couldn¡¯t hold it anymore. She started yelling at the top of her lungs and darting around us in pieces, forcing me to facepalm, nearly making Yui drop her nutritional shake, which she had been strictly instructed to drink due to exhaustion, and triggering Midoriya to have a panic attack:

    ¡°Why is it always like this?! Why do I always miss all the most interesting and cool stuff?! Damn it, I missed everything, how could I?!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, my dear,¡± I replied and reached into my pocket, ¡°here, have some candy. Eat up, eat up!¡±

    ¡°Where did you get candies¡­ m-m¡­¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    ¡°But wait, Ni-i-ren! I want to¡­¡±

    ¡°Eat your candy, dear, don¡¯t get distracted,¡± I managed to slip a candy into her mouth as she flew past, still in the wrapper.

    ¡°Bleh¡­¡±

    <u>Author''s Note 2:</u>

    Toga was mentioned by me in the events of Episode Eight in two cases.

    First, Niren observed a blonde girl in a kimono (why a kimono? Stay tuned for the next chapters) who, with incredible grace, ran right across the robots. That¡¯s her, yes (remember how in the canonical events, Toga easily runs across Gigantomachia or through crowds of heroes\villains).

    Second, at the end of the chapter, Aizawa¡¯s attention was drawn to a recording from Training Ground ¡°C,¡± which was Niren¡¯s original center, where ¡°someone¡± passed the test without using a quirk. And indeed, throughout the original anime and manga storyline, Toga demonstrated impressive combat skills (where did she get them? Stay tuned for the next chapters), considering that her own quirk wouldn¡¯t have helped her pass the practical exam at U.A. (aside from a minor boost to her flexibility and agility due to the quirk factor), and might have even hindered her.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    The office, curtains, and the cleric.

    The willpower of the original protagonist, which you¡¯re, of course, aware of.

    And this is the frustrated, sad protagonist to whom Niren saved a whole week¡¯s worth of nerve cells.

    The healing by the Healing, err, Recovery Girl herself, with a completely correct statement about her significance to the Academy.

 Chapter 10. "Causes and Consequences." Part I.

    The week leading up to the announcement of the results wasn''t particularly memorable.

    We hung out at a caf¨¦ with the girls, but none of us, not even Setsuna, were in the mood to eat anything tasty or unhealthy. We parted ways. I went to the movies. They must have been showing something rather mediocre because I just fell asleep. Came back home. Slept again. Ordered a pizza and ate it. Downloaded a few popular, fast-paced games at home on my computer, like a new shooter or the tenth sequel to the third prequel of a famous fighting game.

    I spent a long time trying to remember what it was like to play games, then lazily got into it and spent a couple of hours before getting bored. The game I liked the most was a children¡¯s racing game, judging by the look of it, where for some reason the goal wasn''t to be the first to cross the finish line but to drive a huge soccer ball around. It turned out that without practice and my own markers, I was just an ordinary... schoolboy, albeit with good reflexes. Amusing, really.

    Went to bed. Didn¡¯t sleep well and woke up cranky. Decided not to go for a run... couldn''t find a place for myself in the house, irritated and dissatisfied with the imperfections around me.

    After wandering around for half an hour, I spat and went for a run.

    This was a day after the exam. I tried my best to force myself to rest... but I couldn''t handle it, couldn''t endure it, and the very next day I returned, with relief, to my usual schedule of jogging, training, more training, fast-paced venturing with the help of a quirk, hiding on rooftops... watching the news, taking notes on new and old villains and heroes... in general, the things I could control.

    Seems like this is already some kind of professional deformation.

    I refreshed the website with the leaderboard a couple of times, the one showing the scores of the top ten U.A. applicants. But it stayed dark and empty. Shrugging, I gave up: Setsuna would have texted me anyway if something had changed¡ªshe was practically glued to the monitor around the clock that week.

    And then, after six uneventful days, a letter from U.A. arrived.

    I opened it.

    A regular envelope with some mechanical disc inside.

    I turned it over in my hands, shrugged...

    The disc lit up and shot a beam of light right into my eyes.

    Cursing quietly, I looked at the hologram and listened to the brief, concise, and emotionless speech of Mike Nishida, a professional hero and another U.A. instructor¡ªEctoplasm. A hero in a recognizable black mask, capable of creating dozens of clones, he "teaches mathematics" and also provides instruction on tactical action in combat situations¡ªstraight from special forces manuals. Or so it seems.

    Without his hero armor, he looked rather colorful: a tall, thin guy in huge round glasses like Harry Potter¡¯s and a sweater over a shirt. Really, like a professor at a prestigious college, and nothing like a famous superhero, especially not one as dangerous as Ectoplasm.

    The essence of his speech, meanwhile, was simple: despite my ambiguous actions, which were received differently by the teaching staff...

    I was accepted.

    And, moreover, I was assigned to Class "A."

    And, even more... I took first place in the exam.

    I frowned. How did that happen? I only knocked out, at most, forty bots...

    Predicting my reaction, the unflappable Ectoplasm explained: although before my "escape," I only scored thirty-three villain points and none for rescue (exemplary hero), my escape catapulted me to first place with an additional sixty rescue points and one for the "Light" robot that got inflated due to Yui''s mishap.

    Why sixty?

    It¡¯s a fixed value for those who pass the "final test" and decide to attack the trap robot to save a lagging teammate. And they succeed in doing so, which is important: a failed rescuer would only get ten. You can score all seventy if, on top of everything, you survive and remain unscathed, but so far, throughout U.A.''s history, there haven''t been any such unique cases.

    Okay, so why did I get sixty?

    Because they initially awarded the same to Izuku Midoriya, and then they decided it wouldn¡¯t be fair to evaluate a similar feat differently.

    I chuckled: after an exam like that, they''re still talking about fairness? Not a very good joke.

    But overall, the news was great.

    Where I sat, I melted into a satisfied puddle. Only now did it hit me just how tense I had been all these days. Not only had I risked my chance to influence the future, save someone, win where the "forces of good" would inevitably lose with a different lineup... but also my own well-being and health. I wouldn¡¯t have stopped trying to be a hero, I know myself, but without the armored suit and U.A.''s medical support, it would have been... well, less than ideal.

    I smiled, looking at the leaderboard of the top ten applicants, where the first line was highlighted in red. I guess I can be a little proud of myself.

    First place: Niren Shoda, 34 villain points, 60 rescue points.

    Second place: Katsuki Bakugo, 77 villain points, 0 rescue points.

    Third place: Eijiro Kirishima, 39 villain points, 35 rescue points.

    Fourth place: Ochako Uraraka, 25 villain points, 45 rescue points.

    Fifth place: Ibara Shiozaki, 34 villain points, 30 rescue points.

    Sixth place: Itsuka Kendo, 25 villain points, 36 rescue points.

    Seventh place: Izuku Midoriya, 0 villain points, 60 rescue points.

    Eighth place: Tenya Iida, 50 villain points, 9 rescue points.

    Ninth place: Setsuna Tokage, 35 villain points, 23 rescue points.

    Tenth place: Kiyotaka Shinya, 25 villain points, 25 rescue points.

    Bakugo and Izuku¡ªalmost like they''re meant to be contrasted. The hero and anti-hero of the story.

    I smirked. Interesting, so who, in that case, will be my opponent?

    The holographic presentation ended with a dry message that all first-year U.A. Academy students from Class "A" of the hero training faculty are expected on April 6th, at precisely eight in the morning, in classroom number 1A on the first floor of the main building.

    ¡°Your destination is behind the large door with the big red number one and the big red letter ''A''. Most first-year students can find the room on their own, so I expect even more from you¡ªto be there on time.¡±

    With that, he signed off, and the hologram went dark.

    I smirked. Fun guy.

    Out of curiosity, I went to the website and checked the full ranking of all applicants. In the second ten, I found characters like Fumikage Tokoyami, Neito Monoma, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu (his parents sure had a sense of humor), and Yosetsu Awase. None of their names, except perhaps Tokoyami, meant anything to me, unfortunately. Maybe they were heroes in the anime, but¡ªI don''t remember. In any case, I¡¯ll meet them.

    Yui was also there, in twenty-second place. I think, of all people, she should be able to learn from her mistake. However... it¡¯s partly my fault too¡ªI taught the support to rush into close combat, to my own detriment... and partly the fault of a certain ¡°purple dwarf,¡± whom our Snow Queen indignantly referred to. I had specific suspicions about who this unpleasant person was, and I could only wait for a closer acquaintance... of my fist with his face.

    Just then, my phone vibrated.

    After messaging Setsuna and Yui to tell them they did great, I arranged to call in half an hour.

    And then...

    With a smile, I began preparing for the Academy, for my first hero training lesson, my first session of getting to know the main characters of an alternate history... But as I packed, my smile gradually faded, and I ended up putting my suitcase aside.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    It¡¯s March Fifth.

    And I¡¯m expected on April Sixth.

    "A-a-a!"

    ***

    I was climbing the walls for a whole month. Pushed myself hard with training again. Wracked my brain over new moves. Went to parkour with Yui. Tested a couple of new techniques... but it was all just that.

    For real progress, I needed to move forward. Here, without the unique conditions of U.A., without strong sparring partners, I''ve already exhausted all available resources and opportunities.

    Perhaps the only fun event was when Setsuna, who had gotten the hang of lifting robots into the air during the exam and then slamming them to the ground, suggested that I try flying.

    And I¡ªhaving gotten the hang of landing when falling from that very air during the exam¡ªof course, agreed.

    As a result, we flew over the park several times, although we couldn''t do it properly¡ªquirks were still not allowed to be used in public places. Tokage was very frustrated and upset, as she also wanted to get to U.A. as soon as possible. It''s kind of funny: we''re so different, both in age and character, and yet look at us¡ªjust a little more, and we''d be hugging and howling at the moon together.

    Yui didn''t let us howl at the moon, as she threw herself into training with zeal to improve control over her own quirk. Naturally, we were happy to help her because it was better than just waiting...

    Unfortunately, a few flights and workouts weren''t enough to keep me from thinking.

    So, I thought.

    First: could I have been exposed because of my quirk? I said it was a typical enhancement quirk, but in reality, it¡¯s some kind of impulses from my hands, spatial orientation, flight, clapping...

    Analyzing my performance, I concluded that the chance of being caught was negligible.

    Of course, they should have been watching me closely, just like every applicant, and much more closely when I left the test site and moved to another one.

    However, one shouldn''t forget the number of applicants¡ªthere were almost ten thousand. Even if there were seven or eight thousand, considering that the rest might have been filtered out by the theory test. And we were all at different Training Grounds, of which there were at least four¡ªSetsuna was at ¡°D.¡±

    Such little things that happen literally in a couple of seconds, I think, would escape the attention of even most professionals. I didn''t notice any tiny drones that could monitor every applicant. And how would you observe someone like Setsuna, who can be in ten places at once?

    And even if they noticed me clapping before the impulse... well, see point "This world is very strange!" Who knows why I might clap?

    I had just recently trained Yui to stop using certain words and activation gestures to control her quirk, and look, for example, Gravity Girl still needs them.

    Maybe it¡¯s more convenient for me, maybe I¡¯m just used to it, or maybe my power only activates in battle, and that¡¯s why I hit myself to become stronger? Suddenly made a joke to myself and applauded myself? And the strength I gain depends on how good the joke is? I wouldn''t be surprised at all if such a quirk exists. After all, it''s a quirk.

    Yeah... sounds like self-justification.

    In any case, I had a backup plan for what to say if I was exposed.

    I mean, if I''m exposed before societal foundations begin to shake and no one cares anymore...

    By the way, judging by the leaderboard, or rather, the rescue points, the girl who nullifies gravity is named Ochako¡ªbecause it''s unlikely anyone else was as reckless as Izuku and I to go up against the big robot. Well, except for Shinji, but that''s a completely different story.

    Now, the second thing that worried me: what should I do with my suspicions about the Healing Girl?

    After twisting this ball of thoughts in different ways, I decided to just let it go. The thing is... even if Chiyo didn¡¯t work at U.A. for forty years, but less; even if she is hiding some information about herself; or U.A. is hiding information about her; or I couldn''t find much about her simply because I don''t know how to use Google¡ªin any case, they wouldn¡¯t have taken an unchecked person to the Academy. Especially not as medical staff.

    And even if she turns out to be that very traitor... so what? An entire team of professionals, led by a paranoid like Aizawa and a supposed genius like Principal Nezu, hasn''t figured her out. A team of professionals working closely with the government!

    So how could I?

    I''m not so inadequate in assessing my own cognitive abilities.

    In short, I decided to forget about it. There''s no point in ruining someone''s life over some vague and not fully formed suspicions.

    And there was a third thing.

    What have I done? What will happen next?

    The seeds of change I planted in this world''s history were starting to bear their... fruits.

    At first, I didn''t even think to ask which class the girls had gotten into.

    And then, a few days later, it somehow came up in conversation when, after training, where we were both chasing Kodai around, we were recovering in one of our usual cafes.

    So, basically...

    Yui got into Class "A."

    And Setsuna got into Class "A."

    When I heard this wonderful news, I immediately grabbed my head.

    In the reality I knew, both of them ended up in Class "B" of U.A. Academy...

    I brushed off their worried questions with a joke, saying I was just imagining studying with both of them for another three years. But... I wasn''t at all amused.

    This isn¡¯t a small change like Izuku being saved a bit earlier and more efficiently. This is, damn it, a huge change! What if someone''s abilities aren''t enough at a crucial moment?! What if one of the girls dies because of me, ending up in the wrong place?!

    But who will give me an answer now?

    Yui¡¯s father, upon hearing about his daughter¡¯s achievements, literally cried. She told us¡ªthen she called on the phone¡ªthat he was apologizing to his daughter, threw away his beer bottles, and even solemnly promised to get his life back on track. And her mom was crying next to him. They even went outside once, into the sunshine, all three of them.

    It''s sad. I hope things work out for him.

    On the other hand, Setsuna¡¯s mom invited us over for a little get-together at their place. Somehow, I didn''t associate this scorchingly sexy office lady with cooking, so I wasn''t too surprised by the boxes of noodles and sashimi. But I got a good laugh from Yui¡¯s reaction to such ¡°traditional dishes from the lady of the house¡± and the desperately blushing Setsuna¡ªher mom was shamelessly and passionately flirting with the only man at the table¡ªme. To which I, accompanied by the girls'' outrage, responded in kind and with great pleasure.

    In case you''re wondering, my own parents didn¡¯t show much emotion, but they were as content and calm as elephants. More precisely, like a married couple of two elephants. They said they never doubted me for a moment and that I didn¡¯t have to take first place from the ¡°poor kids.¡± Apparently, someone knows me better than I think...

    Well, whatever.

    There was also some genuinely good news: our schoolmate Akari, the cat-girl, managed to get into Shiketsu! Honestly, I have no idea how she did it; I don¡¯t know anything about their exam because I generally don¡¯t read unnecessary information for myself. But you have to understand that Shiketsu Senior High is the second hero academy in Japan, which is not much less prestigious than U.A. and is the best in the entire west of the country.

    And there was some not-so-good news: Mashirao Ojiro, my old mate and sparring partner, with whom we never really developed a normal relationship, did get into U.A.

    Into Class ¡°B.¡±

    The guy was overjoyed, almost jumping for this joy; I smiled at him too, praised him, shook his hand and his father''s, but I didn¡¯t really understand what I was feeling. Horror? Sadness? Sympathy? Or, really, joy? If I remember correctly, his... now his class, for the time being, didn¡¯t particularly participate in any terrible events; he has every chance to survive. And sparring with me, he got better training than in the canonical events...

    Damn. What other butterflies have I stepped on?

    ***

    On April Sixth, I was standing in front of the door¡ªit really is big!¡ªas early as seven twenty in the morning. This time, the girls decided to come with me, so Setsuna was desperately yawning and kept forgetting to ¡°gather herself into one Setsuna,¡± leaving some of her parts behind on the way. A terrifying woman. And Yui looked paler than usual.

    It¡¯s worth noting that we first had to get a dorm room, drop off our things, and, in general, travel from our city to this one. So we got up quite early. But for some reason, the ladies insisted on ¡°going together this time.¡±

    So, somehow managing to open the door with joint efforts, we were among the first to enter the classroom. At first, I even thought it was another test: if you can''t open this monster, then the hero profession is not for you.

    We scattered to our desks...

    It¡¯s worth noting that each student was assigned a ¡°serial number,¡± meaning that in every classroom, for example, the same desk was assigned to Yui. I got the nineteenth number, which is way in the back. Setsuna got the ninth. Kodai got the sixth, which is in the front row.

    Initially, I thought the seating would be by height or alphabetically, but apparently, the arrangement was completely random.

    Proceeding to my row and reserving a spot with my backpack, I found out that the intelligent, modest, and beautiful Momo Yaoyorozu was supposed to sit behind me. I smiled at her; she smiled back. We greeted each other, chatted¡­

    At some point, a spark flickered between us, then a storm, then madness, and finally love. And years later, I would only continue to thank providence, which gave me a chance for such a wonderful relationship that began with sitting next to each other¡­

    Just kidding.

    Unfortunately, the storm and madness that flickered between us were of a completely different kind and ended our desk-sharing relationship, but more on that later.

    First-year students continued to trickle in, introducing themselves; I also participated, noting one familiar character after another...

    A blonde with an explosive temper, who nodded grumpily at Yui in greeting, turned out to be almost my neighbor, a desk away in my row. And something made me think he took a dislike to me from the first glance.

    To my right was supposed to sit the same Tokoyami, who turned out to be a literal bird-headed goth... some Sero with rolls of tape instead of elbows¡ªa very positive, lanky guy; I liked him immediately... and a certain Shoto Todoroki, who looked at everyone else as if they were dirt. I gave him a big smile. I think we''ll get along¡ªfirst, I''ll just have to scrape him off my shoe.

    In general, everything was fine, everything was good... well, except for the absence of Mashirao here. I certainly couldn¡¯t complain about the presence of the girls.

    Everything was...

    But then, almost at the last moment, two people entered the class, and I groaned and dropped my head onto the desk with a loud thud. I have a complicated relationship with desks in general.

    Damn it!

    I broke everything!

    I completely broke the canon!

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    Ectoplasm¡¯s everyday look. Professor Stephen Hawking, is that you?

    The door. Big door!

    Canonical table. Too lazy to redo it for the fic.

    And... bonus. Setsuna Tokage''s mom, hot as the desert sand at noon.

    <u>Author''s Note:</u>

    In situations where characters don¡¯t have their own names and surnames, only heroic/villainous nicknames, I decided to use the names and surnames of two seiyuu, that is, the actors who voice the character in the anime. Because, most often, there is both a Japanese and an American actor, it turns out to be a mix. Like in the case of Ectoplasm, for example.

 Episode 10. Part II.

    Actually, by this point, I had spent less than half an hour in the classroom, but I had already managed to become a local celebrity. It was the same in elementary school, the same in middle school¡­ though the reasons were different.

    Here, however, the explanation was simple: when my new classmates started getting to know everyone¡ªsome did it timidly, some boldly and charismatically, but everyone did it to some extent, even Bakugo¡ªsooner or later, they would get around to me. And then the reaction was almost always the same:

    ¡°Niren¡­ you mean, the Niren Shoda who scored ninety-four points and took first place? The guy who climbed over the wall and ran to another Training Ground? That Niren who took down a giant robot? That one?¡± (underline as needed)

    For each such query to the server, we followed the same protocol. I would humbly respond that yes, that was me, but it wasn¡¯t anything particularly special. Yui would blush cutely but mutter with a poker face that she hadn¡¯t done it on purpose. And Setsuna would throw her hands up, shout, and vividly describe my "feat," which she hadn''t even witnessed, including details no one had told her.

    As a result, I learned from that pink ball of energy named Mina Ashido, who controls acid, that running from one Ground to another without getting expelled from the exam is "cool."

    Tenya Iida, the bespectacled hypocrite whose quirk allowed him to run really fast, shared with us all that it was ¡°irresponsible.¡±

    Thank you, Tenya!

    The girl with earphone jacks, whom I met during the exam, introduced herself as Kyoka Jiro and, hesitating, thanked me for covering her from the robots¡ªsomething I had completely forgotten about. In return, I praised her idea of using the robots as music players, which brought a faint smile to her face.

    Eijiro Kirishima¡ªwho, as I suspected, was the red-haired Terminator capable of becoming practically indestructible¡ªpraised me for such a heroic act of saving a friend and gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder without waiting for a response.

    In return, I set a mine under him¡­ I mean, I sicced Mina on him. As it turned out, they had studied together before, like Yui and I, and so the poor guy was a priority target for this pink menace.

    The blond Yuga Aoyama, who shoots beams of light from his stomach, boasted that he saw my jump with his own eyes.

    And the other blond¡ªDenki Kaminari, who controls lightning¡ªlamented that he hadn¡¯t.

    An invisible girl¡ªseriously, I could see the folds on the inside of her clothes where her back should have been¡ªintroduced herself as Toru Hagakure and supported Yuga, saying ¡°it was awesome.¡± It felt strange, like receiving a compliment from a living school uniform.

    I nodded appreciatively and introduced myself in return, although some vague, not-so-good thought regarding this girl scratched at the edges of my consciousness. But I didn¡¯t have time to catch it¡ªsomeone new came to introduce themselves...

    Tsuyu Asui, a slender green-haired girl with huge eyes¡ªwho could do everything a frog could do (her own words)¡ªthoughtfully remarked that since I had so quickly understood Yui needed my help, I must be really smart and quick-witted.

    In response, suddenly recalling Don Juan, I jokingly told her that I hadn¡¯t yet had the opportunity to assess her intelligence, but I could assess her appearance, and she was very cute. The girl croaked in surprise (I¡¯m serious. She really croaks. Sometimes I think it would have been better to be reborn in a more sensible place) and blushed, and I modestly confessed that long female hair was my weakness.

    Setsuna, on the other end of the class, smirked and straightened her shoulders, earning an elbow in the side from an eye-rolling Yui.

    I stuck my tongue out at both of them and mouthed the words ¡°your mom,¡± which left both of them flabbergasted.

    Yeah, if you only knew what a magnificent mane of hair Setsuna¡¯s mom has, folks...

    Finally, the gloomy, bird-headed Tokoyami solemnly declared that during the exam, everyone was on their own, and by helping others stay on the side of Light, I risked plunging myself into darkness.

    And his deskmate, Hanta Sero¡ªthe one with tape for elbows¡ªadvised him to lighten up. And offered us some wasabi peanuts.

    At some point, the flow of people arriving in the class¡ªand stumbling over me¡ªalmost dried up, allowing me to exhale and look at the clock in despair. Only twenty minutes had passed¡­ yet I felt like I¡¯d been welcoming guests at a formal dinner for hours.

    Apparently, with my habits and activities, I had turned into a full-blown introvert.

    But at least I got the chance to observe my classmates.

    Yui and Momo quickly found common ground, so my first friend, in her usual manner, sat on my desk facing Yaoyorozu, and they quietly discussed some details of using their quirks.

    Mina and Setsuna¡ªthe two chaos adepts of this class¡ªhit it off instantly, and in the fire of their wit, the world burned, and people¡¯s nerves melted, and it was wonderful.

    Seriously, I love watching some people annoy others.

    Setsuna quickly explained to her newfound friend that it was best not to mess with me¡ªI would sharply shut down any attempts at wit (I hadn¡¯t noticed such talents in myself, but she knows best). And although the bubbly girl occasionally tried to test my resilience, Tokage dragged her off to wind up easier targets. Look, Kirishima is already as red as his hair.

    Or take, for example, the student council¡¯s spirit-obsessed Iida, who was pestering the delinquent Bakugo, who was settling into the ¡°column¡± of desks next to mine, one row ahead. Apparently, the delinquent had put his feet up on the table. His own table, mind you. And in the neat world of the runner, where everyone lives by the rulebook and picks up after their dogs, this was unacceptable.

    If there¡¯s a fight, I¡¯m totally siding with the blond!

    With twenty minutes left before the start of classes, only four people were missing, and I started guessing which original characters I wouldn¡¯t see in the room, squeezed in here along with the girls¡ªinstead of them.

    The purple dwarf? Well, most likely¡­ it¡¯s a lost cause.

    According to Yui¡¯s story about their encounter, he behaved very unheroically during the exam. If the best institution in the country for training¡­ blah blah blah¡­ would accept such a person, I¡¯d be very disappointed.

    Pushing Yui off the desk, I dug into my backpack and began discreetly flipping through my notes about the original heroes. This particular one was encrypted anyway.

    And yes, I brought almost all my main notebooks. Of course, they had long been scanned and printed, so the value lay elsewhere¡ªI had an idea about how to use them...

    Stolen story; please report.

    Hmm. I remembered having some guy in my notes who looked like a banana. Something related to power, I think¡­ nobody like that among us.

    I mean, except for me and Midoriya...

    Maybe that¡¯s the reason? Since both he and I¡ªwe¡¯re both ¡°typical enhancer¡± quirk users, yeah¡ªended up in Class ¡°A,¡± this banana guy got assigned to Class ¡°B¡± to ensure maximum diversity of quirks in each class, and we could learn to work as a team and face a wide variety of opponents. Makes sense?

    Makes sense to me. It¡¯s just a pity I have little idea about most of the abilities of my parallel classmates. I remember there was some guy in Class ¡°B¡± who could copy others'' powers¡ªI was impressed with such a quirk fifteen years ago, or rather, with the whining of its owner, considering how powerful it is and how much interesting stuff could be done with it. And I know of those who were unofficially recommended to enroll in U.A., like Ibara, the Catholic.

    By the way, the fourth student, who was fully and officially recommended¡ªinstead of Setsuna¡ªturned out to be a rather notable character I read a couple of articles about this month. Guevardan.

    Returning to my new classmates¡­ did I forget anyone else?

    I glanced around. No Izuku. No Gravity Girl. Hmm. Well, no Mashirao, but that¡¯s understandable. Let¡¯s assume I¡¯m here instead of him. The Banana-Man isn¡¯t here¡­ well, let¡¯s assume Setsuna-Man took his place. Yui knocked out the dwarf...

    I shifted my gaze to the door, lazily propping my chin with my hands.

    Two people entered the class, almost colliding.

    Wait.

    Neither of them had green hair.

    I suddenly focused, my brain snapping into combat mode, and my eyes darted from person to person in the room as I feverishly counted my classmates. Three in the first row, four in the second, three in the third, three in mine¡­ no, forgot Iida, four¡­ and only two in the last...

    Sixteen. Whew. Sixteen. And two newcomers. There are still two spots for the main protagonist of the story because how could we handle all the events without One-for-All, I can¡¯t even ima...

    I shifted my gaze back to the newcomers, one of whom¡ªa girl, to be precise¡ªwas purposefully heading straight for me.

    And in a moment, I finally realized who I was looking at.

    And yes, at that moment, my elbows slipped, and my forehead helplessly hit the desk.

    Lifting my head slightly, I continued to watch the new faces from under my brow, ignoring the surprise of a couple of classmates at my reaction. Look, even Setsuna had recognized her and was slightly frowning.

    Although, to be honest, I¡¯m probably the only one here who really knows her.

    What the hell have I done...

    So, two people entered.

    One was a short, gray-haired guy, the same one who was following me during the exam. Kami-sama, how could he get into Class ¡°A¡± of the hero course? Seriously? I left him with only a few robots he wouldn¡¯t even know how to handle properly. In future events, he¡¯s practically useless¡­ yes, a sleep-inducing mist is great, and he¡¯s good with it, using his quirk wisely. But he has no combat skills! And because of the sleep-inducing effect, he can¡¯t use it as a screen in tandem with allies! Oh, what a hassle.

    And the other person was that same blonde who was about to cut someone up at Setsuna''s school. Now, I had no doubt that she would have done it if I hadn¡¯t intervened. And that same graceful girl, running on robots, whose movements I admired. My sharp reaction was because I¡­ finally¡­ recognized her. Damn, it took me meeting her THREE TIMES to finally recognize her. Since when did I become so dumb?

    However, to be honest, I recognized her only because of her hairstyle: this time, she carelessly twisted her rather long hair into two messy buns on either side of her head, a style in the anime that was only drawn for her. Apparently, waist-length hair really is my weakness...

    Toga. Toga, bloody hell, Himiko. One of the main antagonists of the series. One of the most deranged psychopaths in anime. She attacked people, she cut people, she drank other people¡¯s blood, she took part in terrorist acts, and, finally, she didn¡¯t shy away from mass killings.

    It was her I stopped, apparently, just before she chose her villainous path. It seems it was me who convinced her not to fight society but to force it to accept her. It was I who brought her to U.A.''s hero course.

    And now she''s walking right toward me...

    Probably, if she had kept her old school hairstyle, I might not have recognized her even now¡ªloose hair, well¡­ you get the point. Also, she was generally known in the anime for her acting skills. In fact, at Setsuna''s school, I perceived her as just an ordinary girl. And her quirk, which turned Toga into a maniac, allows her to take on someone else''s appearance. And in the future¡ªeven to take on others'' quirks!

    And all she needs for that is to sip someone¡¯s blood. If I remember correctly, the more, the better the effect.

    Yes¡­ an exemplary candidate for a pro hero.

    My tense mind noted another fact: Toga and the as-yet-unnamed "fog-man" entered the classroom almost simultaneously; however, they weren''t together. Instead, they came from different directions, and neither wanted to give way. This resulted in a brief hesitation: they nearly collided at the door, each reacting with an irritated look. Apparently, they''re not acquainted.

    However, while Toga just glanced at the fog-man with a dissatisfied look, as if he were a mere fly, and continued onward, straight and purposeful like an icebreaker... the fog-man clearly recognized her and froze in place, as if struck by lightning, tensely shifting his gaze from her... to me.

    It seemed as though he had been planning to approach me¡­

    But then he encountered Toga and changed his plan. Interesting¡ªwhere could he theoretically know her from? Did he see her doing something scary in some alley? Or did they study together? There seem to be quite a few coincidences here.

    On one hand, if the gray-haired guy knew the blonde psychopath, she would have recognized him too. On the other hand, Himiko shows no reaction to Setsuna, even though they went to the same school and definitely met each other. My green-haired friend clearly recognized her and was now watching her with surprise, having dropped out of her conversation with the pink, horned ball of energy.

    Meanwhile, warily glancing around the classroom, the gray-haired guy slowly made his way to his desk, which was also in ''Siberia,'' in the last row.

    For a moment, our eyes met. I¡­ didn¡¯t like his eyes. A very heavy gaze, as if this person¡ªstill quite young, judging by his slender appearance¡ªhad already made difficult decisions. Killed. And faced death.

    I don¡¯t know what the eyes of such people look like, but that¡¯s the association that comes to mind.

    Not good.

    Neither he nor Himiko greeted or introduced themselves to anyone.

    Meanwhile, Toga, nearly shoving aside a couple of girls standing between the rows, reached me.

    Not sure what to expect, I still thought she might say hello. At least to me. Or introduce herself. Or, I don¡¯t know, give some speech about eternal love until sweet death, which is waiting for you tomorrow, or whatever else crazy yanderes do¡­

    At that moment, it was decidedly impossible to mistake her for a hero: her face had an unhealthy flush, her eyes shone feverishly, and her lips stretched into such a predatory grin that Kuchisake-onna, meeting such a Himiko Toga in an alley, would have shoved her questions about beauty deep down and dived into the nearest sewer drain.

    The girl''s smile clearly showed her fangs.

    She would pass by me in three, two, one¡­

    ¡­ and Toga calmly walked past me without uttering a word.

    Okay.

    Uhh...

    I think I understand her plan.

    I slowly straightened up and just as slowly placed a hand over my face, covering my eyes with my fingers.

    I barely know her, but I already feel embarrassed by her actions. As if feeling secondhand embarrassment for an awkward acquaintance or a chuunibyou sister. Speaking of chuunibyou, also known as "Eighth-Grader Syndrome" or, literally, "Second Year Middle School Syndrome," it refers to an unknown-to-science condition affecting young teens who are sincerely convinced of their exceptional and genius abilities and are thus obsessed with delusions of grandeur. Just like Todoroki and Bakugo in this class, hehe.

    But, getting back to Himiko''s actions... Kami-sama, why am I cursed with this other syndrome, the syndrome of secondhand embarrassment? What did I do wrong in this life?

    Apparently, I just wanted to be a hero at the wrong time and in the wrong place.

    Behind me, it was quiet.

    Turning slightly, I removed my hand, instead propping up my mighty chin, and began watching what was happening. I could have used some popcorn, of course. Let¡¯s see¡­

    Himiko Toga was standing over a cowering and pale Momo Yaoyorozu''s desk, just¡­ staring. Well, not just staring. There wasn¡¯t a trace left of that creepy smile, but a frown creased her forehead, her bangs cast a shadow over her eyes, and her gaze carried a serious threat. It felt like she was just a moment away from hitting the poor raven-haired girl, who didn¡¯t know where to hide from those eyes¡­

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Well, you get it. They''re competing for the title of who Niren wants to punch more.

    An example of Toga''s smile and look when she''s heading towards Niren. Yes, fangs. And those "fluffy pom-poms" on the sides of her head. I''ll send a few more representative art pieces later, I think.

    Toga''s gaze when she looks at Momo.

 Episode 10. Part III.

    My heroic side demanded that I intervene and save the damsel in distress named Momo Yaoyorozu, while my calculating and manipulative side suggested leaving everything as it was, because the situation would resolve itself in a couple of seconds anyway.

    Besides, this scene carried a clear lesson that I wanted to highlight for my new classmates ¡ª and the sooner, the better.

    Momo¡¯s lip quivered.

    I left everything as it was.

    In the end... if I¡¯ve already broken the canon this much... and stepped all over those butterflies...

    You know what? Screw the butterflies.

    Why not keep breaking the canon further?

    Finally, Toga opened her mouth and said in clear, clipped phrases:

    ¡°I. Want. To. Sit. Here.¡±

    Narrowing my eyes, I watched¡­ Momo.

    She could have responded. For instance, she could have said that we didn¡¯t choose our seats, the Academy did. Or she could have objected, claiming it was her seat since she had occupied it first. She could have de-escalated the conflict by pointing out that the lesson was about to start and they could switch seats later. The pretty brunette could have at least appealed to the class¡¯s sense of fairness, since it was clear that a hero course should attract defenders of morality and fighters for everything good.

    She could have at least tried¡­

    Or one of us, the heroes, could have saved her¡­

    But no, none of that happened ¡ª the girl gathered her bag, her neatly arranged notebooks and pens with relief, and practically sprinted to the empty desk next to Yui in the front row, where Himiko was apparently supposed to sit. She avoided making eye contact with anyone, but the class undoubtedly sympathized with her, and someone even muttered something reassuring. In short, I don¡¯t think this will significantly affect the cohesion of the class or Momo''s role in the hierarchy.

    But if it does¡­ maybe it¡¯ll be for the best.

    I never forgot that ahead of us¡­ less than a year from now¡­ is a war. Yes, I will definitely become a hero now, yes, I¡¯ve achieved a lot¡­ but all of it will be meaningless if we lose in the future. Just because someone might turn out to be the weakest link, lacking the courage or resolve. Even just to stand up for themselves.

    Meanwhile, Kirishima, who had been ready to be the hero and save Yaoyorozu, slumped back into his chair, uncertain of how to act heroically in this situation. He simply didn¡¯t react fast enough.

    Yes, thinking quickly is a skill too. Well, no worries¡­ I¡¯ll teach you all that soon enough.

    I turned back and looked seriously, carefully into Toga Himiko¡¯s yellow eyes.

    Well, hello, future.

    ¡°Hi.¡±

    She smiled sweetly, innocently, and without a trace of the predatory grin she had worn before. A masterful actress.

    ¡°Hi.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t allowed to continue the conversation.

    Annoyed, I looked up. Let me study her!

    Another champion of justice arrived, of course...

    Iida Tenya, having left Bakugo, rolled up on his skates to deliver justice. Raising his arm in a strange, almost fascist salute, he tried to lecture Toga, who glared at him:

    ¡°You¡¯ve taken a seat that was already occupied by another classmate! This action was not at all heroic! After all, we are all equals here! I insist, no, I demand that you apologize to her immediately and return her seat!¡±

    Toga only bared her teeth in response.

    A dark anger began to rise in me, the same anger Tenya had stirred during the exam. Ah, Tenya, what a magnificent hero you are! You intervene as soon as the conflict is resolved. I¡¯m amazed by your selflessness.

    Not wanting to hear more of his slogans, I stood up, finding myself nose to nose with him.

    Back off, Mr. Student Council! I¡¯M the one who¡¯s going to mess with her head, not you! SHE¡¯S MINE!

    I stretched out my hand and snapped my fingers sharply in front of his face, adding a pinch of my quirk. The loud clap cut off the guy¡¯s speech, tousled his hair, and threw him off balance. I took the initiative.

    ¡°Listen¡­ Tenya,¡± I straightened up, surprised to find that I was a couple of centimeters taller than him. ¡°I¡¯m not defending our new classmate¡¯s actions; I¡¯m sure she should feel¡­ somewhat ashamed of them, and I also expect that she¡¯ll apologize for her behavior in the future, as conflicts will be unnecessary in our group.¡±

    At this point, I lowered my gaze and looked into the predatory blonde''s eyes once more, trying to convey with just a look that if she didn¡¯t listen and started undermining my authority and the class''s unity on the first day... I¡¯d bury her in the nearest park.

    ¡°I object! This is outrageous and absolutely unacceptable...¡±

    I quickly shifted my gaze back to the almost-class president. No, buddy, you¡¯re not becoming class president in my class, I can promise you that:

    ¡°However, we are all,¡± I gestured broadly to our new and old classmates, ¡°now students at the best hero academy in the country. Do you know what heroes do, Tenya? They ¡ª that is, future us ¡ª fight criminals every day, criminals who, trust me, will be far scarier and more intimidating than a former schoolgirl,¡± I gestured toward Toga, though in my mind, I was thinking, ¡°Yeah, right.¡± ¡°So, each of us must be able to take a hit and be prepared for psychological pressure sessions.¡±

    Honestly, at that moment, I assumed Aizawa would just come in and put everyone back in their assigned seats, and my speech wouldn¡¯t have long-term consequences.

    Tenya choked on his words and froze, hand still raised. Judging by the wide eyes behind his glasses, he hadn¡¯t considered this aspect of our lives.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Looking around at the other classmates, I had to admit that nobody else had thought of it either, except perhaps Yui. Even the grumpy Bakugo didn¡¯t seem to realize that his ¡°contributions¡± to Midoriya¡¯s psychological endurance were serving this purpose. If the guy, whom Bakugo had been outright bullying for ten years, hadn¡¯t broken and still chose to pursue heroism, then he was indeed a strong individual.

    Damn. He¡¯s still not here.

    Anyway, I wasn¡¯t finished. I¡¯m just getting started!

    ¡°I, sitting right here, gave our classmate Momo,¡± ah, it feels so good without honorifics! ¡°a chance to block this ¡®hit¡¯ on her own. Yes, maybe it was hypocritical and overly arrogant of me,¡± I nodded toward the surprised brunette, ¡°so I apologize for my actions, or rather, my inaction. But I sincerely thought I was doing the right thing.¡±

    Now it''s your turn to be buried, hypocrite.

    I jabbed a finger into his chest, seeing his eyes widen in shock behind his glasses.

    ¡°But what were you thinking, Tenya? You not only failed to intervene at the moment of the conflict, when it could have helped Momo gain the resolve to say no. As Kirishima wanted to do,¡± yes, you, man, I saw it all, I can praise as well as scold, ¡°who was about to intervene but just didn¡¯t make it in time. No. You consciously came in late, after Momo had already chosen her course of action, and then you tried to solve her problem for her. You didn¡¯t let her handle it herself, and therefore grow stronger. You wanted to win someone else¡¯s battle, a battle that you decided you could win.¡±

    I poked him in the chest again. Not a balloon, won¡¯t pop.

    ¡°So, say you¡¯d won, made them switch back. How would that have helped Momo become stronger? And how would that have helped her,¡± I nodded toward Toga, who was watching the scene with amusement, ¡°integrate into the group? How would it have helped anyone, besides you, huh?¡±

    As a final note, I sat back down and added sarcastically in a lower voice:

    ¡°You already ran past when a helping hand was needed.¡±

    Tenya, though he seemed like a sturdy guy, was trembling as much as Momo had been. Silently, nearly tripping, he made his way to his desk and sat down quietly.

    Oops.

    Seems like I overdid it.

    The classroom was shrouded in a grim, tense atmosphere. I noticed Yui shaking her head in disapproval before resting her forehead on Setsuna¡¯s shoulder.

    Alright. In for a penny, in for a pound.

    If I wanted to break the canon, I might as well go all in¡­

    ***

    The remaining couple of minutes before the bell dragged on slowly, like molasses (though I found out later that there was no bell here at all). I didn¡¯t want to turn back to look at Toga, even though I could feel her eyes on me. No, it wasn¡¯t time to engage in a conversation with her yet¡ªotherwise, my classmates might think I knew her and was covering for her, which would ruin the reputation I¡¯d built¡­ No. I had more important things to do.

    I kept glancing nervously at the door. Where. Is. My. Protagonist?!

    The mark on Midoriya had vanished over the past month... I didn¡¯t even know if he was close or far...

    And then, the massive door slid open with a soft, almost silent sound, though in the tense atmosphere, it sounded like a clap of thunder, and everyone turned to stare at the green-haired boy, whose panicked gaze darted around from the sudden concentrated attention¡­ until it landed on me, and he immediately relaxed.

    "Hey, Midoriya!" I waved cheerfully. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Tenya stand up, as if to approach Izuku, but¡­ he didn¡¯t follow through.

    Midoriya rushed toward me, though he paled slightly when he saw Katsuki sitting nearby¡ªthe same Katsuki who, as a reminder, had bullied him for ten years. Hero, my ass.

    Izuku, to his credit, greeted me happily and even mustered the courage to wave at the girls¡ªSetsuna and Yui. Both waved back. Honestly, Yui isn¡¯t the kind of person you should wave at so eagerly¡ªher frosty demeanor can turn down guys like a strong repellent. However, Setsuna¡¯s cheerfulness balanced the situation out.

    Midoriya plopped down onto the chair with a loud thud and waved at someone standing hesitantly at the door, clearly unsure about the atmosphere in the classroom. Oh, he was waving to the gravity girl who had almost caught up with him, the twentieth member of our class. I had little doubt she¡¯d be praising him and making him blush soon, but I guess that would have to wait until next time. And yes, she introduced herself as Ochako Uraraka, so I was right¡ªshe had earned 45 rescue points for saving Izuku¡¯s skin.

    Thankfully, the class atmosphere was starting to lighten up¡ªhere and there, whispers began to break out: "So that¡¯s the guy!" and "His jump was even cooler than Shoda¡¯s!" Midoriya blushed like a poppy in full bloom at those comments, and I just smiled.

    I didn¡¯t mind. It mattered more to him.

    That being said, no one was really coming up to introduce themselves to us¡ªwell, to Midoriya, to be exact. Maybe he couldn¡¯t quite assert himself properly, or maybe the walls formed by Bakugo and Toga were intimidating people¡­ or maybe it was me. I hope it wasn¡¯t me; I still had to work with them.

    Anyway, as it turned out, my assigned seat was right behind Midoriya¡¯s broad back. That was fortunate.

    At this point, Midoriya glanced over my shoulder and paled, swallowing loudly. Yeah, buddy, those are the neighbors we¡¯ve got. Probably not the best setup. I remembered that Toga had a soft spot for him in the canon. I wonder if that¡¯s my responsibility now?

    And then it turned out that Izuku lived with his mother in this very city¡ªless than an hour¡¯s walk away. And that...

    That made me fume a little, honestly. People here were waiting for him, practically jumping out of their skins from anxiety, and he¡­

    "But I¡¯m¡­ not late..." the boy mumbled under my gaze. Clearly, being surrounded by nothing but unfriendly monsters wasn¡¯t something he was looking forward to.

    Yeah, I might¡¯ve snapped a bit¡­ Lately, I¡¯ve been feeling like I¡¯m coming unhinged from the constant tension. Not good. I need to get a grip on this; self-control is more important now than ever...

    I lowered my voice:

    "Yeah, you¡¯re not late. Sorry if I came off as harsh. But you cut it really close. And judging by your labored breathing and the drops of sweat on your forehead"¡ªMidoriya jerked at this, clearly tempted to check, verify, investigate, or even jot down this revelation¡ª"it¡¯s obvious you were running through the halls, trying to find the right door in this big building."

    The boy paled a bit more. Bullseye. Well done, Niren, have a cookie.

    Friendship is friendship, camaraderie is camaraderie, but Izuku Midoriya is too valuable an asset, and I need to have as much influence over his decisions as possible. In the end, it might just save his life... or mine. So I started to talk:

    "The thing is, for you and me¡­ actually, for all of us"¡ªI nodded toward our new classmates, not forgetting to first highlight "you and me"¡ª"there¡¯s a whole new level of expectation now, you understand? Yesterday, we were just some clueless high schoolers. Today, every one of us is a new pillar of society. A new role model, a new idol. Potentially¡­ the new Symbol of Peace."

    Boom. Critical hit. Izuku¡¯s eyes practically turned into squares, and fearing I might¡¯ve gone overboard (again), I quickly clarified:

    "I¡¯m not saying we have to be perfect. Everyone makes mistakes, and that¡¯s okay. Especially since you didn¡¯t make any mistakes this time. But I think your approach should be different now. Like mine. Childhood is behind us, and it¡¯s time to get serious, don¡¯t you think? For example¡­ my personal approach to life is to give it my all, to give my everything. You, judging by how you took down that giant robot, do the same. Am I right?"

    Izuku hesitated but then nodded, staring intently at his right hand.

    Checking the clock on the classroom wall with a bit of confusion¡ªit was showing the correct time, the same as my dorm clock, which meant that the class had technically started five minutes ago¡ªI continued:

    "However, it¡¯s impossible to be prepared for every situation or opponent¡­ so we need to be as ready as possible for any situation. You can give it your all not just in the crucial moment when something happens but also before it¡ªby being well-prepared. Take this as an example: you could¡¯ve gotten to U.A. early¡­ say, half an hour before, and that would¡¯ve given you plenty of time to find the right place, not cut it close, and at the same time"¡ªI glanced over at Ochako and the other girls and then winked at the ever-blushing evergreen boy, easing the tension¡ª"you could¡¯ve spent that time having some fun."

    Izuku nodded again, deep in thought.

    It¡¯s nice to talk to someone who¡¯s not an idiot. I talk, he listens...

    And more importantly, he gets it. Although these are fairly obvious things for any adult, well... that''s the point¡ªthey''re adults.

    A few seconds later, our homeroom teacher finally entered¡­ or rather, crawled into the classroom¡ªand my monologue abruptly ended.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    The final seating arrangement of our heroes.

 Episode 10. Part IV.

    The class, I mean, homeroom teacher... did not look very "classy." Not at all.

    At first, we only heard a rustling sound, like someone dragging a body in a bag.

    That guess wasn''t far off, because a giant, fat, yellow caterpillar was crawling past the front desks.

    Setsuna screamed and jumped into the blinking Yui''s arms, Momo squealed and climbed onto her chair, pulling her legs up, Mina grabbed a random backpack and raised it over her head, ready to defend herself, Aoyama yelped and hid behind Mina, and Kirishima tried to wrestle the backpack away from her.

    I gave a thumbs-up to the blushing Midoriya, who, as a result of all this jumping around, had seen some girl¡¯s legs above the knee and was now trying to process the information. No worries, once you''re done with my "how to stop being a timid nerd" course, we''ll turn you into a normal person and integrate you back into society in no time. I guarantee it! Vote for Niren Shoda!

    Finally, after all the commotion (though even this pantomime hinted at the real capabilities of this person¡ªtry opening a door while zipped up inside a sleeping bag), Shota Aizawa emerged from the yellow sack and stood before us in all his glory.

    He inspired... melancholy.

    Thin, with long, tangled black hair, a week''s worth of stubble, dark circles under his red eyes, wearing a grimy black cloak instead of regular clothes, and with a dozen coils of elastic bandages around his neck... he looked like a dead Severus Snape at the end of the wizard movie, after being bitten by a snake and partially mummified, but suddenly brought back to life because "every school needs a scary Potions professor, Harry."

    Sometimes, my memory¡ªmutated by my Quirk¡ªgets me down. If only I remembered something useful from my past life, like physics or programming...

    Still, I wasn¡¯t under any illusions. This guy could probably wipe the floor with all of us. Maybe even all at once. My eyes caught his smooth, almost feline movements¡ªonly masters of martial arts move like that¡ªand the tight muscles beneath his black "mantle."

    Especially considering that those bandages around his neck were his weapon.

    ... Oh, and by the way, it was already ten minutes past eight. Apparently, Aizawa had just given us time to get acquainted. He glanced around the room, the atmosphere still tense, and muttered:

    "Ah. I see you¡¯ve already realized where you¡¯ve landed and lost your childish enthusiasm."

    That didn¡¯t help the mood.

    Finally reaching his desk, he pulled out a black notebook that looked more like a battered journal, flipped through a couple of pages, and started calling our names monotonously. Just like in any regular school. Hmm. Maybe this was a way to calm us down with something familiar and prepare us for the next challenge? Or, on the contrary, shock us with a sudden shift to something extreme? Hard to tell.

    When he got to Yui, Aizawa-sensei looked through his tangled hair at her, sitting side by side with Momo, chewed his lip, and asked:

    "Are you two sisters?"

    Yui silently shook her head.

    I snickered. I''d been saying they looked alike for years, ha ha ha¡­

    When he got to Momo, he glanced up from the notebook for the second time and looked at the front row again:

    "Why aren¡¯t you in your seat?"

    Yaoyorozu shivered, staring at her knees, and mumbled quietly:

    "I didn¡¯t... it wasn¡¯t me... she took it..."

    "I want to sit here!" Toga chirped brightly and cheerfully from behind me.

    Ah, finally.

    Remember how I said Aizawa would fix everything and put everyone back in their proper seats?

    "Oh. Okay," Aizawa said, turning back to his notebook. "Next..."

    After quickly finishing roll call, this guy then pulled out a slightly crumpled set of gym uniforms from the sack he had crawled in with¡ªtwenty of them, each with a name tag and the U.A. logo in the school¡¯s traditional blue-and-white color scheme¡ªlaid them out on the nearest desk, and told us all to change.

    Right there. Apparently, everyone. Boys and girls, in the same room.

    I silently took my uniform from his hands, walked back to my desk, and was about to start changing right there. Why not? He didn¡¯t mention the locker rooms, so this was probably another test.

    Seems like the Academy doesn''t waste time on preparation. Psychological pressure from day one, huh?

    I grabbed the collar of my shirt.

    "Sensei¡­ ribbit, where are the locker rooms?" Tsuyu Asui timidly asked, clutching her uniform.

    I unbuttoned the top button.

    "Oh, right," Aizawa responded in a completely emotionless tone. "Locker rooms are to the left, down the hall on your left-hand side. You have ten minutes."

    I buttoned the top button again.

    ¡°:)¡±

    The locker rooms were impossible to mix up¡ªthey were marked with huge, corresponding letters in different colors. Leaving the girls, both familiar and not, alone with Toga felt risky, but I headed to the boys'' section anyway. Otherwise, they might have gotten the wrong idea.

    The uniforms were really cool¡ªlight, smooth, but felt very durable. As a test, I tried to tear a bit from the inside so it wouldn¡¯t be noticeable. The fabric gave in, but I had to apply some force.

    While changing, I glanced at my classmates. Most, though not all, were in good shape¡ªtoned and fit. However... to my surprise, at my one hundred eighty-something centimeters, I turned out to be the tallest. And probably the most physically built¡ªthe only one who could compete was Iida, which makes sense, as he''s a sprinter. Just think of those Olympic Jamaican runners from my world...

    And to think I was sure this class would have a few nearly two-meter-tall tanks. Oh well.

    After changing, we were told to head to the sports field¡ªone of many at U.A. Ours, unsurprisingly, was 1A, right behind the main Academy building, shaped like a giant "H." And it was enormous.

    ***

    At the same time.

    Near the main building, sports field 1A, first-year hero course students, U.A. Academy.

    Yui Kodai.

    "Did you see what Niren is doing?" Yui quietly asked the nearest part of Setsuna capable of hearing as they followed their classmates to the field.

    Why they had to go there, she still hadn¡¯t figured out, and she wasn¡¯t too happy about it. It didn¡¯t seem like a presentation or a tour. Not a lecture, either. Another test? Or, more accurately, an unexpected one? And what next? Testing everyone¡¯s abilities? They¡¯d have practical classes every day now, so there¡¯d be plenty of time for that. Testing someone specific? Well, maybe. But everyone had changed into gym uniforms. So, another round of physical tests?

    She had just barely recovered from the overuse of her Quirk during the entrance exam, and she wasn¡¯t too keen on pushing herself again.

    And the teacher was strange... didn¡¯t seem like a pro hero at all.

    She should have asked Niren what he thought about all this, but the class had split into groups by gender, and he had already gone ahead. Besides, he was acting a bit grumpy today.

    "What do you mean?" Setsuna asked, confused.

    "Can¡¯t you see what he¡¯s doing with that boy... Midoriya?"

    "Uh¡­ sitting next to him? Walking with him?"

    Yui sighed. Tokage was, in general, a smart girl and a good friend, but most of the time she preferred to keep her brain in energy-saving mode, separate from herself.

    "I was the one he mentored for a long time, teaching and guiding me. Then, when we picked you up off the street¡­"

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    "Screw you, Matryoshka."

    "... Niren started looking after you, too. And now our spiritual mentor, as he puts it, has started ¡®training¡¯ this boy. Don¡¯t you see?"

    Setsuna grew more serious and glanced toward the subject of discussion, who was walking about fifteen steps ahead. She still didn¡¯t seem to grasp the point.

    "Well... maybe. And so what?"

    "But what''s so special about him? Why him, of all people?"

    "Well, he did take down that giant robot with one punch, when it took Niren at least ten hits. I wonder how long it would take me to¡ª"

    Yui hurriedly (for her, hurriedly; for everyone else, just a little faster and louder) whispered:

    "No, you don¡¯t understand. Midoriya doesn¡¯t need help¡ªwith that kind of power, he¡¯ll be fine on his own, with his career and Quirk development. We needed help because we couldn¡¯t see the full potential of our Quirks. Midoriya is different. His potential is obvious and undeniable. Which makes it¡­ simple. So why is Niren so focused on him? What does he see in him?"

    Now Setsuna Tokage was thinking, frowning¡­

    Then, suddenly coming to some conclusion, she looked at Yui with horror in her eyes:

    "You don¡¯t¡­ you don¡¯t think he¡¯s¡­ you know¡­"

    "What?"

    Setsuna leaned in and lowered her voice:

    "You know¡­ one of those!"

    Yui was still confused.

    "Like his hair! Colorful, I mean¡­ rainbow! Definitely batting for the other team! Ga¡ª"

    "Setsuna, you¡¯re an idiot."

    No way. It can¡¯t be, right?

    Kodai didn¡¯t even want to consider the possibility that such a scandalous suggestion could be true, so instead, she gave her friend a smack on the head.

    "Why am I the idiot..." Setsuna grumbled, rubbing her head. "I followed the rules for forming a hypothesis. Is there an observation? Yes. Was an experiment conducted? Yes¡­"

    "What experiment?" Yui narrowed her eyes.

    Setsuna put her hands on her hips, sticking out her chest confidently:

    "A totally real experiment! Two of them, you see? Cool, right? Yeah, I think so too. Cool! But Niren never looks at my¡­ ahem, charms. And you know how charming they are, right? If I were a guy¡­ I¡¯d totally go for me! See, see?"

    Yui covered her eyes in frustration, not even realizing that this gesture¡ªlike so much else¡ªhad been instilled in her by their friend. A friend that, in Setsuna¡¯s mind, might be¡­ blue.

    It seemed it hadn¡¯t even occurred to her that someone might not be looking at her, Setsuna, as a girl simply because she was, well¡­ Setsuna.

    Yui could only hope that Niren never found out about this conversation. Otherwise, he¡¯d never let them live it down.

    ***

    At the same time, same place, same people.

    Niren.

    Once we were all lined up in some semblance of a formation, Severus Aizawa announced:

    "Now, you¡¯re all going to take a Quirk assessment test."

    Classmates began to murmur timid protests and questions about things like the entrance ceremony, a tour of the Academy, and orientation. The teacher shut that down:

    "If you plan on becoming professional heroes, you don¡¯t have time for such trivial activities."

    I felt a smile begin to tug at my lips. Finally¡­ finally something important, a lesson from someone who really valued time¡­

    Standing with his back to us, looking like a gloomy, huddled crow, Aizawa turned his head and glanced at us over his shoulder:

    "The thing about U.A. is that it¡¯s not bound by tradition. This applies to how teachers conduct their lessons."

    The students deflated completely, and Aizawa, sarcastically commenting on bureaucrats wasting time at the Ministry of Education, announced that we were going to do the same old physical tests we¡¯d been taking every six months in regular school.

    Only this time, we could use our Quirks to the fullest.

    And the standards were designed without any Quirk usage...

    It seemed like Snape wasn¡¯t just interested in testing us¡ªhe wanted to emphasize our newfound elitism. And that makes sense¡ªheroes have the right to use their Quirks in public. Even first-year students with a provisional license.

    After glancing at me, Eraserhead squinted, but for some reason addressed the explosive blond:

    "Bakugo, did you place first in the practical exam?"

    Bakugo visibly gritted his teeth but spat out:

    "Second."

    Not at all surprised (I was starting to suspect that Shota was actually a massive troll, exploiting his teacher''s immunity to pull whatever pranks he wanted), Aizawa tossed Bakugo a regular baseball¡ªwell, actually, a softball¡ªand instructed him to perform a standard distance throw. The main point was simple: stand in the designated circle, and then do whatever you want, just focus on the result.

    The key was to use your Quirk to the fullest.

    By the way, softball is its own sport, though it¡¯s quite similar to baseball. The ball, however, is different¡ªsofter, obviously, yellow instead of white, a bit bigger but lighter. To me, softball always felt like a kid-friendly version of volleyball, something more like dodgeball for students rather than the real deal. And yes, it¡¯s traditionally used for school fitness tests. Probably because it¡¯s less likely for one kid to knock another out cold with it. Although, to be honest, the ball isn''t that much softer¡­

    Standing in the circle, after warming up and shooting a glare my way, the blond psycho screamed, "DIE!" and blasted the ball skyward with an explosion. The ball flew off into the distance.

    Aizawa showed us his phone, which displayed the distance via some nifty app. "Seven hundred four point four meters," it read.

    Considering the average distance for a normal student''s throw ranges between thirty to fifty meters, this was seriously impressive.

    The class buzzed with excitement, admiring Bakugo¡¯s Quirk and getting hyped at the prospect of showing off their own abilities, hoping to climb up the tribe¡¯s hierarchy.

    Aizawa didn''t seem pleased. From what I could gather, he wasn¡¯t pleased by much.

    "Having fun, are we?"

    The students fell silent. At that moment, I could barely identify with their collective mindset, so I just stood off to the side, observing quietly, showing little emotion.

    "You have three years to become professional heroes. Do you think you¡¯ll maintain this attitude the entire time?"

    My classmates, especially Midoriya, paled, and I didn¡¯t blame them. It¡¯s hard to keep a level head when you¡¯re constantly bombarded with success stories of superheroes in flashy costumes. The world outside only feeds you tales of victory, rarely the grueling work that goes into it.

    And then our homeroom teacher decided to motivate us further, with a rather nasty smile hidden beneath his hair:

    "Alright. Whoever places last in all eight tests will be considered to have no potential and will be expelled."

    Oh! I remember this moment.

    I mirrored Aizawa¡¯s smile. Don¡¯t worry, our protagonist¡ªsorry, I mean Izuku¡ªwill show you what he¡¯s made of. I glanced at Midoriya, and he looked like he was about to faint.

    Well¡­ what can you do? I wasn¡¯t going to rush over with advice or comfort. Sure, friendship and psychological rehabilitation are important, but I need an ally who is strong both in body and spirit¡ªsomeone potentially much stronger than me. Therefore, every turning point, every challenge he faces, he needs to overcome on his own¡­ with maybe some support from me and a couple of reliable friends.

    Not to mention that hinting at him to use his Quirk in a way that I only know because he figured it out in World A feels like tampering with causality.

    But the next thing the teacher said caught me completely off guard:

    "And as for whoever takes first place overall¡­ let me think¡­ perhaps a trip to I-Island, courtesy of the Academy. With the opportunity to buy something to enhance their Quirk."

    I slowly turned my gaze back to him.

    I didn¡¯t remember this.

    Moreover¡­ was he serious? A trip to I-Expo? The largest and most technologically advanced research center for Quirks? The place where they make the coolest gear for pro heroes?

    I need that.

    Wait¡­ hold on. Here¡¯s the test. Right here. But what is he trying to uncover? Or who? Is he trying to push us to our limits¡­ or, oh.

    Could it be that, besides Midoriya, he wants to test me too?

    Have I already been exposed?

    Chills ran down my spine.

    "... But it¡¯s only the first day of school! No, even if it weren¡¯t the first day, this would still be way too unfair!"

    I glanced cautiously at Eraserhead. But he wasn¡¯t looking at me; he was lazily explaining to the adorably outraged Uraraka that Japan, like a buttered slice of bread, is spread with all sorts of unfair things like earthquakes, natural disasters, and villains. And it¡¯s the heroes who are there to restore fairness in such situations.

    In short, it was textbook demagoguery. Classic. You could tell the man had experience muddling young minds.

    "For the next three years, U.A. will do everything it can to throw challenge after challenge at you. Push your limits. Plus Ultra," Aizawa smirked and beckoned us forward with a finger. "Overcome this challenge by giving it your all."

    Good speech.

    No¡­ it¡¯s too early for me to start panicking. Maybe he just wants to motivate a couple of talented students like me and Todoroki, who aren¡¯t showing their full potential yet.

    Plus, besides me, there are at least two other highly suspicious students here: Toga and the fog guy.

    His name, by the way, was Kiyotaka Shinya.

    And, you know, when I first heard his name¡ªwhen Aizawa was taking roll call about thirty minutes ago¡ªI was really puzzled: this Kiyotaka placed ninth in the entrance exam.

    One question: how?

    He didn¡¯t display anything I would consider serious combat skills. Sure, he was agile and fairly quick. And yes, his fog Quirk can put people to sleep, which is excellent for a hero. Against living people. But¡­ robots? What could he possibly have done to them? The few he barely finished off in front of me wouldn¡¯t have been enough to pass.

    Maybe his fog makes him stronger while he¡¯s inside it? But that didn¡¯t seem to be the case¡­ And he didn¡¯t cover himself head-to-toe in fog when finishing off the robots.

    Unless he has more than one Quirk¡­ but that¡¯s impossible, right?

    Hmm. Theoretically, it is possible.

    But it¡¯s too soon to accuse the guy of being a servant of All For One just because I don¡¯t understand how he passed the exam, don¡¯t you think?

    Alright. Now the important question.

    Do I want to give it my all and try to win that trip?

    I cast an evaluating glance at the crowd of students stretching before me.

    Well¡­ first of all, this could be a setup. Shota has already proven himself to be quite the trickster.

    Secondly, to maintain my cover, I can¡¯t go all out, no matter what¡¯s at stake. Whatever happens, whatever¡¯s on the line, the overt and delayed use of my markers must be reserved for the events at the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, ¡°USJ¡± for short. It¡¯s a matter of life and death.

    After all, I have a Plan.

    By the way, the USJ is a massive training ground, built by the superheroine Thirteen, specifically for training U.A. students. You can save people there, or not. You can drown, burn, or suffocate under a collapse, even all at once. Basically, it¡¯s a large polygon simulating all sorts of disasters: floods, tsunamis, landslides, fires, and so on.

    And when our class visits the USJ for the first time¡­ it will be attacked by a horde of villains. Real villains, I mean. Killers, rapists, robbers.

    Their goal will be to kill some of us and take the rest hostage to lure out All Might¡ªand then kill him.

    This must not be allowed to happen.

    That¡¯s why I have a Plan. In fact, my entire reason for "ending up" here, the very purpose of my reincarnation in this world, might boil down to changing the events of that day.

    That day is what I¡¯ve been preparing for all these years, through grueling training until my hands bled.

    I don¡¯t know exactly when that day will come.

    But I know it¡¯s soon.

    And I know that to execute the Plan, I need every possible ace up my sleeve.

    No one else will do this but me.

    No one will change the future but me.

    So¡­ now the question is whether it¡¯s worth it, with a trip to the largest hero supply center on the line, where I might be able to commission armor that would let me use my Quirk without worrying about injuries.

    Is it worth it? Or not?

    What¡¯s the first event on the list? The 100-meter dash?

    And who¡¯s going first? Iida?

    I grinned.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Locker rooms with a subtle DC Comics reference.

    Class 1A¡¯s collective shock, aka the typical students who just survived finals.

    That nasty grin.

 Episode 10. Part V.

    As I approached the hundred-meter dash¡ªwhich, by the way, turned out to be a fifty-meter dash, which wasn''t great¡ªI was already gearing up for victory.

    Yes, I decided to compete. And give it a shot.

    But this wasn¡¯t a senseless risk. Or at least, not entirely. As I mentioned before, even if I get busted now for not having a power-boosting quirk, I have a plan for what to say... and it¡¯s not that big of a deal. The important thing is to hide at least something. I just need to make it to the USJ. Once there, it¡¯ll become obvious that I''m not a spy, and besides, I¡¯ll end up showing my full abilities there anyway.

    Right now, though, thanks to Aizawa¡¯s little ¡°reward,¡± I had a very specific reason to push myself, even for the faintest chance...

    Reasons that had been hanging over my head like a sword of Damocles.

    Here''s the thing: if I objectively compare everyone in the class... in a fight, I¡¯d pretty much wipe the floor with almost all of them. I''m just better.

    Sure, my judgment might be clouded by the afterglow of getting accepted into U.A. and some pride over beating the robot. But still.

    At this stage, only Bakugo, Todoroki, and maybe Iida could give me any real trouble¡ªpurely because of his speed. That¡¯s it. If you don''t count the girls, who know my fighting style, but even they wouldn¡¯t last more than a few minutes if I started using delayed markers. As for Toga, I don''t think she¡¯d be a problem right now either.

    Then there''s Kiyotaka... maybe him too. I still don¡¯t know what to expect from him.

    Most of my classmates, though, while having massive potential and quirks that are no less impressive than mine, just don''t use them optimally. When I look at them, I see unrefined chunks of ore, raw gems that haven''t met the right blacksmith. People who could¡ªand should¡ªbe ¡°leveled up,¡± made stronger, taught how to use their quirks more efficiently, given a foundation in martial arts, shown how to attack properly...

    But that¡¯s why they enrolled in the academy, right?

    The problem is, we don¡¯t have three years for training.

    We¡¯ll be lucky if we have six months.

    And here we arrive at my big problem.

    The fact is, I really am stronger than every single one of them.

    At the moment.

    I¡¯ve trained more. I''m better prepared. I use my quirk to its fullest potential. I''ve even broken and bypassed some of its ¡°limiters,¡± turning myself into a truly versatile and battle-ready fighter. Fast, agile, strong¡ªcapable of tracking opponents, ambushes, and sudden long-range attacks.

    I''ve realized my potential. They haven¡¯t.

    But in terms of this raw potential... I¡¯m not better than Iida, Setsuna, or Uraraka. And I¡¯m significantly¡ªmassively¡ªoutclassed by Bakugo, Todoroki, Toga, Momo, and, of course, Midoriya. Maybe even Tokoyami.

    Because when the real battles begin, when life-and-death fights start happening, these clueless kids will start developing at an insane rate. Their combat abilities will shoot up, and their massive potential will begin to unfold.

    But mine is already maxed out.

    The last few month, maybe a year, my progress has been slowing down until it pretty much came to a halt. Training just stopped giving results. My strength was enough to beat Yui and Setsuna... and that¡¯s it. My maximum amplification level stopped growing. I wasn¡¯t getting faster or stronger. I couldn¡¯t hold more markers. I couldn¡¯t place them at longer distances. New techniques and tactics? Didn¡¯t work. Or just wouldn¡¯t develop.

    It was logical and predictable. I¡¯ve been training for twelve years... You can¡¯t keep drawing water from a well forever¡ªthe volume is finite, and I¡¯ve drained mine. But that didn¡¯t make it any less terrifying: I realized that this was it. I¡¯d hit my ceiling.

    And there is no time left anymore.

    The accelerated run I was about to try now to outrun Iida was the last theoretically usable technique I¡¯d developed over the years. And like the rest¡ªafter the jump techniques, spatial mapping, the ¡°All Might punch,¡± and a few other tricks¡ªit was risky and not really tested.

    One of the reasons I was so eager for a real fight during the entrance exam was because I hoped to break through some barrier in my abilities by giving it my all and becoming stronger. Even just a little.

    Spoiler: it didn¡¯t work. Even after smashing half my body against that ¡°Yui-enhanced¡± robot and feeling like I had one foot in the grave, I didn¡¯t feel stronger. Maybe because I knew the pro-heroes would step in if things got too bad. Whatever. It doesn¡¯t matter now.

    That¡¯s it. This is my limit. The finish line.

    Even if I come up with a few more tricks down this line; even if I manage to use delayed markers effectively, saving them for the crucial moment; even if a life-or-death fight in the Stimulation Joint pushes me a little further... I won¡¯t get much stronger.

    When I finally came to terms with that, it hit hard.

    Chances are, after the attack on the USJ and the annual sports festival, some of these barely fledged kids will surpass me and leave me far behind. I remember what they did in the anime. I know I can¡¯t do that now and won¡¯t be able to in the future.

    I know it; I understand it; but I still refuse to accept it.

    Deep down, I think I still see myself as the protagonist of this story.

    But whatever happens next, until the villains attack my class, I am its strongest student. And also the oldest. And that¡¯s why I¡¯m going to bust my ass to make sure everyone survives and the villains walk away empty-handed.

    I¡¯ve had time to come to terms with the fact that I¡¯ve stopped getting stronger and to come up with a plan. Several plans, actually. After all, if I can train and level up almost everyone I¡¯ve met, why can¡¯t I find ways to make myself stronger?

    I can.

    So if I can''t get stronger through training and techniques anymore... then I''ll get stronger through a suit, armor, and gadgets. I had big plans for my U.A. suit, but what Aizawa is offering might give me even more.

    So, I need to win while I still can. That''s all.

    ***

    ... we could run the fifty meters in pairs.

    So, after a quick warm-up, where I hopped and stretched on the ground, pretending to warm up¡ªbut actually placing five markers on my feet, hands, and back¡ªI walked up to the first pair, Iida and Tsuyu, and, looking straight into the slightly nervous guy¡¯s face, asked to take her place.

    Asui didn¡¯t argue; I think she¡¯s a little afraid of me.

    Well, fine with me, frog girl.

    As for Tenya...

    Yes, I need to make all of you stronger¡ªand I will. Yes, even if it kills me. Even you, you bespectacled hypocrite. You seem like a decent person if the anime is to be trusted.

    But for that to happen, some of you actually need the opposite of what Aizawa demands¡ªlosing your sense of superiority first. We¡¯ve already started with Momo; now it¡¯s your turn.

    When I heard about Iida and Bakugo butting heads, I learned that the speedster had attended the prestigious Somei private academy, which is a pretty big deal, and he comes from a whole dynasty of ¡°speed¡± heroes like his brother Ingenium. A real golden boy. But I think his biggest pride is his quirk¡ªthose amazing engine legs that let him run as fast as a race car.

    So, if I can show him that his much-vaunted speed isn¡¯t so special right now¡ªand it¡¯s not, because there are at least four others in this class capable of matching or exceeding that speed¡ªthen maybe he¡¯ll finally realize he has no right to dictate how others should live their lives. Fix yourself first, genius.

    That way, he¡¯ll start working on himself, listening to others, respecting their opinions... maybe even buy himself some contacts. In an ideal world.

    Either that or he¡¯ll break.

    Remember when I talked about the ¡°village genius syndrome¡±?

    But if his confidence and usefulness in battle can be shattered by something like this, he would¡¯ve broken down eventually anyway. And weak links are useless in war.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    I took my place next to Iida...

    ¡°I¡¯ll just stand over here.¡±

    ... and snapped my mind into combat mode.

    The world slowed down. Sometimes I think that this isn¡¯t an illusion but a secondary manifestation of my quirk factor.

    Still, it¡¯s not all grim: Setsuna didn¡¯t break down; she pulled herself together, gritted her teeth, and quickly leveled up¡ªeven though her case was much worse.

    Tenya shoved his nerves aside, adjusted his glasses, and focused straight ahead. He didn¡¯t look at me. Well, one point of respect for you...

    I crouched down and planted my hands in the sand.

    To my right, Iida did the same.

    ¡°On your mark...¡± came the robot¡¯s shrill voice from the finish line. ¡°Get set...¡±

    I dug my feet deeper into the blocks.

    The gunshot.

    I shot forward, activating the marker from the jump in my left leg, and a moment later, to keep my balance, my right.

    The wind hit my face.

    Iida immediately pulled ahead by half a body.

    I stretched my right leg forward, compensating for balance with a swing of my left arm, and touched the ground. Another burst from my right...

    Iida was a body length ahead. White smoke was billowing from the pipes sticking out of his legs.

    My left foot hit the ground, and I activated the burst...

    Iida was already half a meter ahead...

    I kept picking up speed, but so did Tenya.

    If we were running the full hundred meters, my accelerated run would¡¯ve really shined. But I think fifty will do. I wasn¡¯t too afraid to use it now; I had U.A. on my side, and U.A. had Recovery Girl. Besides, there¡¯s no massive concrete wall ahead for me to risk smashing into like a fly hitting a windshield.

    So, let¡¯s go.

    Digging the right sneaker into the sandy surface for the second time, I activated two markers at once.

    It exploded under my foot.

    It felt like someone had slammed a sledgehammer into my sole, and with my teeth gritted, I shot half a meter into the air¡ªand snatched another two meters ahead.

    I caught up to Iida.

    Next step... even a light touch of the ground with my left toes...

    The double impulse launched me forward, wind stung my eyes so sharply it made them water. I cleared three¡ªno, four meters in one go...

    But it wasn¡¯t enough!

    I scraped the sand with the tip of my right toe, leaning forward as much as I could... I could barely touch the ground properly anymore... the double explosion underfoot threw my body into a real flight, drawing a muffled yelp from behind...

    Not enough!

    Left foot, double burst, push-off, flying forward!

    Still not enough!

    A springy wave pushed me from behind¡ªI tried to make the marker a ¡°softer¡± one this time¡ªand I flew the last five meters at a speed I¡¯d never hit before in my life. I didn¡¯t even have time to see anything. Only the white line underfoot flashed by...

    And I crossed the finish line.

    First.

    ¡°Twooo poooiiint tweeentyyyy-fiiiveee seeecooonds...¡± squeaked the robot, blown to the side by the wind.

    Surprisingly, it all happened in just two seconds. Incredible, I love this world.

    I even managed to grin as I flew past, and then the momentum carried me off into the distance.

    Brake markers, sharp arm swings in front of me... I mean, I was trying to stop, and it wasn¡¯t far from the truth...

    The speed didn¡¯t slow down much.

    ¡°Ay-ay-ay!¡±

    Now all I had left was to brake with my feet, the old-fashioned way. Or maybe not just the feet...

    It¡¯s fine. There¡¯s a long, empty road ahead...

    ***

    As you see, even when I reached the limits of my abilities, I continued to search for ways to use my quirk more effectively.

    That''s how I discovered the possibility of placing markers on my own body.

    Not only by hand but also by touching the ground with my soles.

    And as I was setting markers on my feet and hands like this, I thought: "I could set a marker with every step, essentially turning the ground beneath me into a minefield, right?"

    So that meant... in the moment of contact, I was setting TWO markers, mirrored¡ªone on the sole of my shoe and the other on the ground that the sole touched.

    And that meant... I could activate them simultaneously, right?

    The essence of my usual jumps, my method of running with the help of my quirk, boiled down to the fact that I seemed to have bypassed the limitations of my quirk.

    I can¡¯t enhance impacts indirectly; I can¡¯t amplify the force caused by my own strengthening.

    However, by turning my body into a living projectile, I managed to push the boundaries of what was possible: converting some of the momentum into a new, regular step, and then amplifying that step¡ªor rather jump¡ªthat absorbed part of the impulse from my quirk.

    As a result, with each of my steps, even ordinary ones, I accelerated.

    We''re only talking about a ten to fifteen percent increase with each jump. I can accelerate in geometric progression, but the acceleration rate is still low. Normally.

    But even that wouldn''t be enough to outpace Tenya Iida, who can move at the speed of a race car and reach top speed almost instantly. If I understood his quirk correctly, he couldn¡¯t reach maximum speed on such a short distance either¡ªwhich was actually good for me, since I didn¡¯t have time to accelerate to a speed incompatible with my survival.

    Well...

    I grinned as I hobbled back¡ªcovered in dirt, dust, and sand. I¡¯d managed to stop without a humiliating fall, as braking on a track without obstacles wasn¡¯t too hard¡ªjust dig your feet into the ground, like a long jump, and release a braking impulse first from one foot, then the other, before dissipating the rest of the momentum with a roll. Though, a roll in the sand was no picnic.

    But¡ªI survived.

    I started brushing myself off as I walked.

    Now, time to sum things up.

    First of all, my double-enhanced run worked perfectly.

    I didn¡¯t crash into the ground, nor did I tear my legs off.

    Though, to be honest, my feet hurt quite a bit. Less than I expected, but more than after that sprint to the wall.

    Still grinning.

    I wouldn¡¯t need my legs much for the remaining tests today anyway... and after that, I could swing by the nurse''s office. Or crawl there.

    During that run, I wasn¡¯t just blowing up the ground¡ªand my foot¡ªwith each touch. I was landing after a prolonged, powerful jump, during which my movement slowed slightly, and upon touching the ground, I set two markers at once¡ªon the ground and on my foot. Then I pushed off, and the inertia carried me forward. Then I activated the markers on my foot, launching me further forward. Up to this point, it was my usual jump technique.

    And only then, almost immediately but still a fraction of a second later, I used the mirrored markers left on the ground under my soles. As a result, a significant portion of the impact was absorbed by the ground, but some of it still went into the air¡ªboosting my speed. More than I expected, and with less danger than I¡¯d feared. Which couldn¡¯t help but bring some satisfaction.

    In fact, I was detonating mines beneath myself. All according to Newton¡¯s third law.

    Of course, I didn''t consciously do all this¡ªit all happened in a couple of seconds. But figuring out and calculating the logic of the process took a lot of time when I first theorized it.

    And secondly...

    Nobody ran after me.

    Nobody ran because there was no track left to run on.

    Instead of a neat track, a chain of craters formed, each larger than the last. Dust hung in the air, so thick I could barely see my classmates.

    In the middle of it all sat Iida, covered in dust, staring blankly into space. I later found out that not only did he fail to come in first, but he didn¡¯t even finish¡ªmy final, most powerful explosion, the one that secured my victory, happened right in front of him and literally knocked him off the track.

    Honestly, I felt bad for him.

    I walked past him.

    I also felt bad for Setsuna.

    When I approached my classmates, brushing off the dust, they were huddled around Aizawa like ducklings behind their mother, staring at me. Setsuna discreetly gave me a thumbs-up, and I smiled slightly. Then I caught an evaluating, unsmiling look from Himiko Toga.

    "Where are you looking, Niren? She¡¯ll devour you..." I thought, unamused.

    ¡°I said not to hold back, not to destroy school property,¡± said our not-so-classy teacher dryly.

    I grinned crookedly.

    ¡°Well, at least it was unfair for the other classmates, right? And you said unfair was good.¡±

    Aizawa just yawned.

    ¡°And I also said heroes fix unfair situations. So, fix it.¡±

    Shrugging, I turned back toward the dust cloud. There were figures moving inside. As I got closer, I saw that Iida had already left, and cleaning robots, like the one with the camera, were restoring the track. Fancy equipment they have here...

    Digging my heels into the ground, I clapped my hands as hard as I could, grimacing and summoning a double impulse, which sent me skidding a meter across the ground. The impulse was strong, my arms spread wide as if I were trying to grab a giant rubber ball.

    The blast of wind cleared most of the dust. I coughed.

    I don¡¯t know if an average power-enhancing quirk user could do this, but All Might certainly could. He could create a hurricane with a single punch, after all. So... Hulk smash!

    It took three more double claps to clear the dust cloud almost completely. And another couple of minutes for the rest of it to settle. I¡¯m sure they have a robot vacuum or fan that could have blown it away in seconds... the teacher, who was watching me closely, was starting to irritate me.

    Fine, he said it, I did it. All for the higher goal.

    Now, in addition to my aching feet, my hands were stinging.

    Though my hands were used to it; I maneuver using impulses with my hands all the time.

    What next?

    I returned to the group, the next pair started their test, Aizawa gave an indifferent nod¡ªand pointed to the scattered classmates. So we were all taking turns and gathering around here instead of quickly getting through everything.

    I sighed. But at least we got to see each other''s strengths and weaknesses. From a time-management perspective, it wasn¡¯t the most efficient, but it was a good way to familiarize ourselves with each other as fledgling superheroes.

    Oh well, I¡¯ll take it.

    I walked over to my classmates, watching the others out of the corner of my eye. Ochako, paired with Toga, made all her clothes weightless. Hmm, her control is pretty good... but she still finished in seven-something seconds, and a slightly grim Himiko beat her without using any quirk.

    Setsuna simply flew over the distance in about five seconds.

    Bakugo, blasting with explosions from his hands stretched behind him, flew over in four. Though, really, what are those explosions compared to mine... I chuckled, earning another angry glare. Midoriya, running after him, took seven... the guy was breathing heavily, his fingers gripping his knees so hard they turned white. He was stressed. Then, frowning, he raised his head resolutely.

    Yui... that clever girl got a pencil from somewhere, enlarged it to the size of a pole, and after getting a running start, planted it at an angle into the ground a third of the way. Then the pencil grew even larger¡ªand just pushed her to the finish line, right past a shocked Yaoyorozu, who reached the end on skates she¡¯d created with her quirk. I don''t think Snowflake significantly improved her time, but it was a solid attempt.

    Aoyama threw in a dramatic line about creativity in quirk usage, turned his back, and leaped into the air, flying backward with a laser from his belly. I even whistled. So, that blue sparkly beam transmits not, say, heat energy but kinetic? So, he can actually fly with it? Oh, the possibilities... if only he could channel it through his hands and feet like I do with my quirk, and...

    The metrosexual blonde fell to the ground two-thirds of the way, struggled to his feet, jumped again, and barely made it to the line. The effect was ruined, and he decided to explain that his stomach starts hurting if he fires the laser for too long.

    In my classmate ranking, Aoyama quickly dropped to the bottom, somewhere below Iida.

    Finally, the last pair was Mina Ashido and Kiyotaka Shinya¡ªthe acid girl and the fog guy, respectively.

    And that¡¯s when I was stunned.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    They stood.

    They flew.

    And here¡¯s just a cutie)

    <u>Author''s Note:</u>

    The next part is supposed to be the conclusion of this chapter. But the day isn''t over yet :)

    Geez I wantto sleeep yaaawn

 Episode 10. Part VI.

    Mina Ashido, despite her strikingly pink appearance and often carefree behavior, was one of the most competent students in my class at that moment. Why? Because she is here because she had excellent control over her Quirk and used it in a flexible and creative way.

    Essentially, she could produce acid right from her body. Her body was completely resistant to the acid, which was already a significant bonus. According to Mina, her pink skin and horns were due to this, though I personally doubted that¡ªit seemed more like an inherited beneficial trait, like with many others.

    So, here''s the thing.

    Her Quirk had obvious offensive potential.

    And a slightly less obvious defensive one.

    However, even by the time she entered U.A., she had already learned far more. She could manipulate the viscosity and density of the acid, making it sticky, slippery, more or less corrosive, resistant to combustion, or even flammable...

    And for fast movement, she came up with something like "skates"¡ªcoating her feet with a very slick liquid, allowing her to move rapidly and essentially glide across the ground like a speed skater. It might have looked a bit odd, but it was undeniably effective¡ªshe finished the race in a little over five seconds!

    That didn¡¯t surprise me. I had already seen her use this during the entrance exam.

    But what I didn¡¯t expect was for her "dance partner" Kiotaka, who had only shown limited control over his mist Quirk, to replicate the exact same move.

    Mina was shocked.

    I was shocked.

    Everyone was shocked.

    Except for Aizawa¡ªhe¡¯s always in a state of perpetual shock.

    Everything happened so fast that it was hard to catch. But I did see the second pair of "skates." They were made of liquid too, though not gray like Mina¡¯s but a deep violet, almost black.

    He even crossed the finish line first, with some sort of sudden burst I didn¡¯t understand. Or maybe I just didn¡¯t notice.

    After that, my mind was wiped clean of everything but questions about the mist guy. What was his power? Where did he come from? There was no character like him in the events I remembered... or maybe I just didn¡¯t recall correctly¡ªbut a guy capable of producing sleep-inducing mist and moving quickly was definitely a significant factor in any confrontation.

    At least now it was clear how he managed to keep up with me during the exam. And how he earned points against the robots by himself.

    But wait...

    Could it be possible that he didn¡¯t always have these abilities but somehow gained them just now?

    I narrowed my eyes, watching the silver-haired... possible enemy return to the starting line.

    The theory that he might be a unit controlled by All for One suddenly seemed more plausible.

    Alright, so what do I know about this Shinya?

    In the original story, he wasn¡¯t present with about a¡­ fifty percent chance. I can''t give more than that; after all, my notes from a decade ago, written after four years of relearning how to hold a pen, aren¡¯t that reliable.

    So, there''s about a fifty percent chance that this character enrolled in Class B or something, from which I only remember Yui, Setsuna, Gevaudan, religious fanatic, and the guy who could copy other people¡¯s Quirks.

    And, haha, myself.

    His sleep-inducing mist Quirk was already problematic enough. A significant factor to consider.

    But if he has more than one Quirk¡ªor rather, if he has only one but it¡¯s incredibly versatile and he can control it even better than I can control mine¡ªhe becomes more than just a factor. He becomes a player.

    ...and I have no idea where this player came from.

    He doesn¡¯t socialize with anyone. He shows no interest in getting close to people. The guy resembled a starving, almost hunted animal.

    Perhaps the occasional attention he showed toward me was the most interest he had in anyone. That¡ªand his negative reaction to Toga. I caught him giving her a dark look more than once.

    I had only heard his voice once¡ªwhen he introduced himself as one of the first students to arrive in class. A normal voice for a young man, just very raspy. Like he had been smoking all his life. Or was sick.

    Oh, it seems I¡¯ll get another chance to hear it¡ªAizawa turned to Shinya, who had just returned with a rather annoyed Mina, and asked:

    "What does your Quirk do, Shinya?"

    "I can create a gas that puts people to sleep," he grumbled.

    "The mist, like in the exam. But where did the liq¡ª"

    "Condensed it," Shinya interrupted the teacher, tossing the explanation out as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and then walked away, signaling the conversation was over.

    Aizawa snorted, and I suddenly realized that these two even looked alike: the unkempt hair, the gaunt face, the reclusive demeanor¡ªand the red, sleep-deprived eyes with sclerae covered in broken blood vessels. But with Eraser Head, it''s clear why, while with Shinya...?

    The last to run was Iida Tenya, redoing his sprint. He did well on the retake, though still didn¡¯t break past three seconds.

    This time, I had the chance to see Tenya¡¯s stop from start to finish. Unlike me, he had no problems with braking¡ªhe just skidded to a halt with his legs, no need for fancy maneuvers.

    On one hand, that means his legs might be better suited for such things because of his Quirk... but on the other hand, it also means I accelerated much more. His speed remained relatively constant throughout the race, though assessing three seconds is tricky. Meanwhile, mine increases with each step in geometric progression... could it be that I can move faster than the ¡°speedster¡± hero?

    Hmm... if his Quirk is called "Engine," and if it¡¯s some kind of engine-like structure in his calves¡ªno matter how ridiculous that sounds¡ªcould he possibly have something like a... "gearbox" somewhere around his chest that lets him switch speeds?

    If so, I don¡¯t want to know where his handbrake is...

    But jokes aside, if that were the case, it would explain why I won¡ªhe simply didn¡¯t have enough distance to hit his full stride. Same as me, really.

    However things stood with Iida¡¯s handbrake, I had secured an unquestionable victory in the first test against all my classmates. Sad Tenya came in second, Angry Bakugo third. Nervous Midoriya trailed far behind.

    The second test¡ªgrip strength¡ªwas held indoors, in what turned out to be an ordinary gym with two levels of bleachers. The test involved squeezing the handle of a special machine that looked like a cross between electronic scales and a tiny exercise machine. There were plenty of these machines¡ªgrab one and squeeze away, then report the best result to Aizawa.

    Let¡¯s see... for our age, a great result would be forty-five kilograms. Well, I can certainly squeeze out a bit more...

    Peeking over Midoriya¡¯s shoulder, I let out a low whistle¡ªfifty-six kilos! Was he working a grip trainer in his sleep or something? And yet, he looks like such a twig...

    The somewhat dejected Midoriya noticed my obvious snooping, so I tried to cheer him up:

    "For our age, that¡¯s an amazing result, no joke!"

    Midoriya perked up a little¡ªand then glanced at mine:

    "And you got sixt¡ªoh..."

    Internally, I winced: the last thing I needed was to crush his self-esteem with my own hands!

    Passing by, Sero, who was trying to improve his result by using his elbow tape to pull the handle (and failing), exclaimed:

    "Whoa! Six hundred and sixty kilos! Are you a gorilla?"

    Setsuna heard that, burst out laughing like a horse, and crumbled, causing a squeal from the invisible girl and Aoyama.

    The final result of the test was as follows: once again, I took the stunning and glorious first place. In second was Kirishima, who made his hand look almost square, and in third¡­ was Kiotaka. Again. How exactly he managed that, I didn¡¯t understand. Again. It was starting to become a bit of a disturbing pattern.

    Apparently, his veins turned purple and bulged as he squeezed the handle with inhuman force. But where that power came from, where it went afterward, and why it gave him such strength was a mystery. Questions were multiplying, and I wasn¡¯t even sure if I should be worried about him. Was he a friend? An enemy? A problem? Neutral? An NPC? A player?

    One thing was clear¡ªalong with me, Bakugo, and Todoroki, he was undoubtedly one of the strongest students in our class. At least three completely different Quirk properties¡­ incredible.

    Oddly enough, fourth place didn¡¯t go to anyone with a strength Quirk but to Denki Kaminari, who, from the looks of it, had never exercised a day in his life. He just zapped the machine with electricity, and it glitched, giving him a score of two hundred and twenty two. I snickered¡ªif some transcendent "author" weren¡¯t on my side, it might¡¯ve given him nine-nine-nine, sending me into second place.

    Bakugo and Todoroki tied for fifth and sixth, as I expected, both having superhuman physical attributes.

    Midoriya was somewhere in the middle. He¡¯s improving!

    Alright, so how did I take first place? At first, I tried to get the maximum result just out of curiosity, without using my Quirk. I managed to squeeze out sixty kilograms, which was fine by me. Then, I simply tried to grip the handle as quickly as possible while placing a marker on it. To my surprise, it worked on the first try, even though I had never practiced this kind of impact. It turned out to be pretty useless for me in combat, but hey, it was fun.

    The third test was the standing long jump.

    Here, after "warming up," I unleashed four simultaneous markers, while swinging both arms as I jumped, delivering an impulse. It went well¡ªI flew about six meters, overshooting the edge of the designated pit with the special sand. I tucked and rolled out of the fall, almost like a gymnast. Yeah, I was on fire today!

    In theory, I could¡¯ve gone even further by activating a couple more markers, but I figured that would be too suspicious. Besides, slapping my butt to trigger markers was something I¡¯d rather avoid...

    In any case, I wasn¡¯t going to beat Aoyama, who took second place¡ªafter Setsuna, who won. Bakugo, seething with frustration (since he wasn¡¯t leading in anything, I assume), took third place, Todoroki fourth, and I settled for fifth.

    Tsuyu Asui, the "Ribbit Lady," took sixth place, even though she could¡¯ve jumped farther. From what I understood, she simply didn¡¯t have anything to latch onto with her tongue (which she could use to pull herself toward targets like a winch). Midoriya placed third from last.

    The fourth test... was lateral shuffles, a silly exercise that was the equivalent of shuttle runs in my first childhood. You stand in place and then start stepping side to side as quickly as possible, trying to take the most steps in a set time.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Bakugo won this with his explosions. I came in second, using my impulse jumps, while Sero claimed third, pulling himself side to side with his elbow tape. Momo took fourth by creating some kind of gymnastic bands that pulled her back and forth.

    Kiotaka didn¡¯t show anything unexpected, and I began to get bored. It all felt like a waste of time since I already had a good grasp of both my abilities and those of most of my classmates.

    The fifth test was flexibility¡ªyour basic forward bends, trying to touch your toes while someone held your knees down to make sure you couldn¡¯t cheat.

    I didn¡¯t win.

    Obviously, first place went to...

    Who said "Toga"?

    Obviously, first place went to Setsuna.

    Looking at her hands, which were happily marching across the room on her fingers while her arms stretched out, Aizawa shrugged, opened his notebook, and drew the infinity symbol next to her name. That¡¯s the second one, by the way.

    Toga took second place.

    Not that she reacted much. She was growing more and more sullen, showing no interest in socializing, and I kept catching her evaluating glances directed at me¡ªwithout a hint of a smile.

    Judging by Himiko''s flexibility, either she had been doing gymnastics from a young age, or her Quirk gave her increased ligament elasticity. Likely both. It made sense: if she transformed not only externally but internally as well, even partially, it would require enhanced joint mobility and tissue flexibility. And she wouldn¡¯t have been such a formidable foe for heroes in the "A" world without decent combat skills.

    For the fifth test, I ended up in the middle, the first among the guys. Most of the girls in the class were impressively flexible, which is almost always the case¡ªwomen tend to be more flexible than men, especially at this age.

    I barely managed eighth place after Yui, which didn¡¯t leave me too pleased.

    You can¡¯t practice martial arts seriously without stretching, unless you''re talking about heavyweight boxing. And even then, I¡¯m only saying that because I can¡¯t imagine a two hundred-kilogram bearded beast stretching... although, sumo wrestlers all do splits, by the way.

    Anyway, my stretching was fine, but I didn¡¯t like it and avoided it. My distaste for it dated back to when I was sixteen in my previous life, and during a "butterfly" stretch, someone enthusiastically "helped" me stretch by forcing my legs down... I yelled a lot. Sure, afterward I could easily sit in a lotus position, but the dislike stuck with me.

    Midoriya took second-to-last place, just ahead of Denki.

    For the record, my legs were being held by Uraraka, the gravity girl. She had already managed to fluster and compliment Midoriya, but to my surprise, I ended up on her thank-you list too. She awkwardly expressed her gratitude for me diverting the second robot during the exam and for shouting at her to focus on rescuing people¡ªit snapped her out of her panic, apparently.

    She was quite sweet and talented, but I simply didn¡¯t have time to accept another student into my ¡°training¡± sect. Besides, I wasn¡¯t really sure how to improve her Quirk¡ªshe was doing just fine on her own.

    In the sixth test¡ªsit-ups for speed¡ªI came in first, purely because I do them at the gym every day. Gotta maintain those abs, you know? Setsuna couldn¡¯t cheat her way through this one, and she was visibly disappointed.

    Finally, we reached the seventh test, which turned out to be the last one. I guess Aizawa was too lazy to go through the full set of school physicals like pull-ups and running laps. More likely, he just picked random tests based on his whims.

    The seventh test was throwing a softball, just like Bakugo did earlier. Stand in a circle and do whatever you want with your Quirk¡ªjust don¡¯t leave the circle and throw the ball as far as you can.

    Uraraka threw first¡ªand got infinity. Goodbye, first place.

    Setsuna threw second, attempting infinity as well, but this time there was a clear measurement using an app on Aizawa¡¯s phone, so outsmarting him didn¡¯t work. Tokage has a maximum range for her quirk, specifically the distance at which her parts refuse to move any further. So, at around six hundred meters, she was already struggling greatly to make her hand with the ball move, and by seven hundred meters, she barely dragged herself along, breathing heavily. But¡ªshe was satisfied!

    It¡¯s also important to note that her six to seven hundred meters work in all directions, and while you can''t build a multi-kilometer chain from Setsuna, the maximum radius from one of her functioning parts to another can reach almost one and a half kilometers. And trust me, she trains hard every day in that direction, I know for sure.

    In fact, that¡¯s how she used to keep tabs on me back in those not-so-distant school days. Her head, acting as the main server, would be present in class with her body to avoid suspicion, while her ears, eyes, and occasionally her hands would take turns ¡°scouting¡± the area, looking for the right school. There were several of them nearby.

    Kirishima stood out again, managing a solid one hundred fifty-meter throw.

    Momo constructed a small trebuchet and launched the ball over two hundred, but she looked slightly disappointed¡ªsomething in her calculations had gone wrong, and the efficiency wasn¡¯t as high as she had hoped.

    Finally, Yui stood out. It was generally difficult for her to handle such isolated tests since her quirk heavily relies on the environment and various additional equipment that we had been working on for a couple of years. However, her inquisitive mind always finds a way to shine: she reduced the size of the ball by half, carefully assessing the weight, frowned, then returned it to its original size. Then, she took off her sneakers, stacking them into a "pile" in the center of the circle, and, remaining barefoot, increased the size of this "pile" to that of two cars. By throwing the ball from a considerable height of several meters, she managed to double the distance, reaching seventy-two meters. Beautiful!

    Whether it was long or short, it finally became Midoriya''s turn. I remembered this moment from the anime quite well, even now. After all, back then (which means now), the protagonist first showcased the qualities that would truly make him a great hero in the future.

    It all happened like this: Midoriya prepared to throw the ball with all his might. Aizawa blocked his quirk, revealing his own¡ª it looked genuinely terrifying. His black hair and white ribbons floated in the air, his eyes glowed red, and the air around him seemed to tremble. Midoriya was stunned by the warning that his quirk wasn¡¯t suitable for a hero because it would simply injure him, turning him into a burden. Meanwhile, I watched in surprise as Aizawa''s ribbon-like bands on his neck seemed to have a life of their own. How was he controlling them?

    Midoriya was given two more tries. He meditated on the ball for a moment. Then, as if his "drivers" updated, he threw the ball again¡ª but instead of using his entire arm, he only enhanced the distal phalanx of his index finger. It was hard to catch¡ª the movement was incredibly fast, but I, of course, expected this¡ª I remembered this scene well from the anime, after all. Plus, his quirk makes his limbs glow, and in this case, his finger.

    In a situation where time was running out and Aizawa had only given him two options¡ª to give it his all and get injured or hold back and be expelled for lacking potential as a hero¡ª this was truly a brilliant third option.

    The ball flew seven hundred and five meters, earning Midoriya the lead in the throwing contest, a severe fracture of his now purple index finger, and cheers from Uraraka.

    I was just happy that the canon hadn¡¯t broken and that Izuku had won his first... or rather, his second independent victory right when and where he needed to.

    I gave him a thumbs up. What was interesting was that I had expected a much sharper reaction from Katsuki since the timid boy he''d bullied had suddenly shown such strength, something that could have easily allowed him to stand up to Bakugo in their childhood if he¡¯d had that quirk back then.

    But no: the spiky blonde just scowled, looking everywhere but at Izuku.

    Curious...

    And then I realized it was my turn¡ª and the last one. Coincidence?

    Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that a lip-biting Izuku had stopped and was watching, ignoring Uraraka''s concerned flapping nearby.

    I took the ball. Tossed it in my hand, pretending to check its weight. Marked it. Then, without any dramatic pretense of a baseball pitch, I threw the ba...

    Something was wrong.

    Frowning, I slowly turned my gaze to Aizawa, who was once again cosplaying Medusa. Only this time, he was targeting me. And I had to admit, when that otherworldly force was aimed at me, it felt... uncomfortable.

    "Fifty-five meters," he said dryly. "Try again."

    He gave no explanation; the other students began whispering, and a bad feeling settled in my gut.

    Annoyed, I tossed the new ball from hand to hand, checking the marker I''d set on the previous one. Everything was still in place; Aizawa¡¯s quirk didn¡¯t erase it. His ability only blocked my "activator" and dulled my sense of the markers.

    I swung harder, moving faster and sharper¡ª though by now, I¡¯d realized that Aizawa had caught me here and now, probably even screwed me over. Hopefully, my classmates hadn¡¯t figured out what he was showing them¡­

    So, I threw the ball up into the sky, activating the marker placed from the throw, and, a moment later, a second one I had set earlier while tossing the ball in the air. Both markers were maxed out since I was, after all, competing for first place.

    "Seven hundred and six meters," said Aizawa Shota, smiling unpleasantly.

    "Probably shouldn¡¯t flip off the homeroom teacher on the first day of school," I thought.

    Instead, I asked some random nonsense, hoping to distract everyone from my spectacular failure:

    "Are the test results rigged? Seven hundred four, seven hundred five, seven hundred six... doesn¡¯t that seem like too much of a coincidence?"

    Aizawa, interestingly enough, thought about it:

    "Hmm... maybe the detector¡¯s acting up¡­ or the principal," he muttered quietly, but I heard him, being close enough. What on earth did he mean by that?

    Then the homeroom teacher told us not to leave and be ready to listen. After fiddling with his phone for about five minutes, he remembered us and announced:

    "Okay, I¡¯ll quickly show you the test results. The overall score is just the sum of your scores across all tests. It¡¯s a waste of time to explain everything verbally, so I¡¯ll just show the results to everyone at once."

    At that point, the guy in black pajamas projected a three-D hologram from his smartphone (I want that app too), displaying our rankings. I was in first place. I¡¯m awesome, I¡¯m great. Setsuna was in second place. Setsuna¡¯s awesome, she¡¯s even better! And in last place was Midoriya, trying not to look at his swollen, broken finger.

    I caught the moment when his face fell apart.

    "By the way, I lied about the expulsion," Aizawa said, completely emotionless as he pressed a button to turn off the hologram.

    I tensed up. No way you''re such an evil chupacabra that you''d lie about the tri...

    "And I also lied about the reward for the top student," his face split into a sly grin.

    Oh, fantastic.

    "It was just a rational tactic to squeeze the most out of your quirks."

    I wanted to slam my face into the nearest wall. My own face.

    Not only did I, possibly¡­ no, Niren, let¡¯s face it, you got played. You thought you were the smartest¡ª and a real pro just outsmarted you. Playing spy games, huh...

    While the other students screamed, shared how unfair or obvious it all was, Aizawa told us to read the pamphlets with our schedules waiting in the classroom. Then he walked over to a very green (now also in skin tone) Izuku and sent him to the nurse.

    Then he turned to me:

    "And you, Shoda, stop by Principal Nezu¡¯s office in an hour. He¡¯s expecting you."

    Oh, f**k.

    ***

    Earlier.

    Shota Aizawa, same place.

    In the nearly ten years he had been working as a pro hero, Shota had accumulated a great deal of experience fighting all kinds of opponents.

    When you don¡¯t have a combat quirk and many of your enemies can kill you in seconds, you have to learn to pick your moments. To wait. To observe.

    So Shota Aizawa learned to observe, and over time, he became able to instantly identify the owners of many quirks. Ready-to-fight pyrokinetics always had a slight shimmer of heat around them; those with defensive or regenerative abilities showed a distinct recklessness, not afraid of open spaces; and those with physical enhancement quirks moved differently¡ª holding back their strength, cautiously, like prowling predators when all was calm, and striking unnaturally fast and sharp in battle.

    In his new class, there were two students who supposedly had physical enhancement quirks.

    Neither fit the mold.

    Aizawa didn¡¯t like Izuku Midoriya from the start.

    Inefficient, undisciplined, unable to control his own quirk. Sure, it was powerful. Sure, All Might had shown interest in him, the same interest he¡¯d only previously shown in Mirio. Sure, he passed the idealistic nonsensical hero test that Nezu had designed¡ª the test that, by the way, Shota had failed himself, forcing him to transfer into the hero course later.

    Nevertheless, no, if after saving even one person, this Midoriya becomes a burden¡ª then he¡¯s no hero, and he never will be.

    However, the boy had surprised Eraserhead, passing a test that he had initially intended to be unbeatable. Well, cunning and creativity¡ª those were most loyal companions of Aizawa. It would be hypocritical not to recognize that in the boy. Izuku Midoriya had potential.

    But the second one...

    He acted rationally, for the most part, highly efficiently, and seemed to have near-perfect control over his quirk. This Niren¡ª a dream student.

    But ever since the exam, where Shota had taken note of several promising students, something didn¡¯t sit right with him¡ª something about this guy that trained eyes caught even before the brain processed it.

    Niren Shoda moved... wrong. People with physical enhancement quirks have a very specific way of moving. They¡¯re stronger, faster, more agile, capable of incredible acrobatics and massive leaps, but their movement changes¡ª it becomes sharper. But Niren... moved the same way all the time, like a highly trained, perfectly fit but entirely normal person without any enhancement.

    Maybe, like Izuku, his quirk is activated consciously and isn¡¯t always on. But even when he activates it, his movement doesn¡¯t change, his speed stays the same, though his strength undeniably increases.

    According to his admission papers, it¡¯s a simple quirk that enhances physical abilities, like another first-year student, Rikido Sato.

    They¡¯re like two sides of the same coin¡ª Izuku, who can¡¯t control his quirk and uses it sparingly, and Niren, who has near-perfect control.

    But this isn¡¯t an enhancement quirk.

    So why lie on the application?

    Shota preferred to assume the worst, so he decided to test the boy to know for sure, and then report to Nezu. Despite Nezu''s occasionally unserious demeanor, the principal hated when people speculated without solid facts.

    So, after carefully observing the boy and confirming his suspicions, Aizawa rearranged the order of the tests, introduced the ¡°reward¡± element into his usual class evaluation, and finally erased Niren¡¯s quirk during the ball throw¡ª to see if his movements would differ under "enhancement" compared to normal.

    With grim satisfaction, he confirmed they did not, not once. Absolutely identical movements. He wondered if any of the other sharp-eyed first-years had noticed.

    After sending a report of his suspicions and conclusions to the principal, he soon received a reply:

    ¡°Be so kind, invite him to a chat in my office in an hour, Shota-kun."

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Aizawa and the hologram. On one hand, Aizawa lied.

    On the other, he didn¡¯t lie because last year, during this exact test, he expelled an entire class, and over the years, he¡¯s expelled one hundred and fifty students total.

    So, maybe the only time he lied was about having lied?

    The situation is VERY reminiscent of Kakashi-sensei and Team Seven. I think plenty of people recognize how much MHA draws from Naruto, but this is one of the clearest examples.

    Ah yes. And let¡¯s not forget about flexible Setsuna. Especially with her abilities...

 Episode 11. "Definition of normal". Part I.

    I left the field in turmoil.

    Aizawa had played me, there was no trip as a reward, but I had exposed my abilities significantly. Just got carried away, I guess.

    And considering the upcoming meeting with the principal, there¡¯s a chance they might have already figured me out during the exam.

    What next? If things continue like this, my attempt at playing spy won¡¯t even make it to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, because there¡¯s a rat in U.A., and I haven¡¯t identified them yet!

    If I don¡¯t last that long, the villains might find out my real quirk, and then¡­

    Damn.

    I had no idea what to do right now.

    On one hand, it made sense to head back to class quickly, check tomorrow¡¯s schedule, and then sort out the dormitory situation. I hadn¡¯t moved in yet, still living in a neighboring town an hour and a half away, and hadn¡¯t seen the need to arrive a few days early, so I was still living out of a suitcase. Many of my classmates were in the same situation.

    On the other hand, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to exchange a few words with Kiyotaka Shinya. At least to try. A strong ally wouldn¡¯t hurt, and while I had already established some contact with Midoriya and had a rough idea of how to interact with Bakugo and Todoroki, this guy¡­ was still a mystery.

    And lastly, my biggest headache at the moment was¡­

    A cheerful, sweet girl approached me.

    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Toga! Toga Himiko! Finally, this boring stuff is over! I didn¡¯t like it! And I¡¯ve wanted to be friends with you, Niren-kun, for the longest time! Let¡¯s talk! Let¡¯s be friends! Let¡¯s get closer!¡±

    My biggest headache at the moment was the yandere who had taken an interest in me. And who had chosen this moment to make her move and get closer.

    My brain, with imaginary click, shifted into combat mode, quickly calculating my next steps.

    What is a ¡°yandere¡±?

    It¡¯s a common anime character trope¡ªgirls who are a bit unhinged. Obsessed with love for someone else. Maniacs.

    What could this mean in real life?

    Maybe obsessive-compulsive disorder. Or schizophrenia. But most likely¡ªbipolar affective disorder. Also known as manic-depressive psychosis.

    What are the symptoms of mania?

    Heightened excitability, an inappropriately positive mood, rapid speech... excessive talking... a strange flush¡­ a crazy gleam in their eyes¡­

    Does Toga have all that? Yes.

    Himiko was nodding her head cheerfully from side to side, smiling and staring at me.

    Motor excitement¡ªalso present.

    Is she dangerous?

    ¡°Yes, let¡¯s talk. I wanted to talk to you as well.¡±

    Yes, she is definitely dangerous.

    The girl suddenly grabbed my jacket sleeve¡ªmoving surprisingly fast, clearly trained, though I noticed she wasn¡¯t armed and that this particular movement wasn¡¯t a threat¡ªshe spun me around and forcefully pulled me somewhere.

    I didn¡¯t resist.

    I didn¡¯t need witnesses for this conversation.

    I planned to speak with her honestly.

    Manic phases of bipolar disorder are also characterized by sudden, dangerous mood swings. Combine that with her combat capabilities, and if we don¡¯t reach an understanding, she might hurt someone. I could defend myself, but protecting others would be harder.

    Better to take her somewhere isolated.

    Himiko glanced back at me, her wide smile stretching even further. Her eyes gleamed like those of a drug addict. Or a student who stayed up all night playing video games, which, in some ways, is the same thing.

    I think I know what she wants.

    The question is, should I give her what she thinks she wants?

    The answer has multiple layers.

    First of all, her being in U.A. weakens the villains. At least not those I¡¯ll face in the USJ¡­ or maybe them? I don¡¯t remember. It doesn¡¯t matter.

    So, at least for that reason, I should keep her here.

    Or neutralize her.

    Next. Is she useful?

    She is.

    In the future, when she can copy other people¡¯s quirks, she¡¯ll become a formidable enemy. An ally?

    But even now, she¡¯s strong¡ªfast, agile, flexible. Trained to move properly, with a solid foundation that rivals my own.

    Where did she learn it? How did she even pass the entrance exam? U.A. didn¡¯t conduct psychological evaluations¡ªrelying instead on school psychologists. A mistake. Toga is unstable. But she¡¯s a brilliant actress, surely convincing everyone at school of her sweetness and innocence.

    But her quirk gives her no combat advantages, and she couldn¡¯t freely use it on other students due to the risk of disqualification. So she passed purely on her skills? That¡¯s not important right now.

    Her quirk is useful for espionage and sabotage.

    Her value increases even more considering U.A.¡¯s excellent hero resources and funding.

    And I¡¯m the only one who currently knows what she¡¯s capable of.

    And she¡¯s already attached to me¡ªfixated, just like yanderes fixate on protagonists in anime.

    And she¡¯s easily influenced¡ªthe labile psyche of a lonely teenager. The fact that she got into U.A. proves that.

    ¡°So, in theory, I can control her,¡± I concluded.

    Then came a second, belated thought: ¡°Wait, wasn¡¯t I trying to be a hero?¡±

    But it was too late to think like that.

    Toga led me away from the main building, past the gym where we had taken the grip strength test. We walked along a neatly paved path, past manicured trees, and reached the edge of a wall...

    Before we lost sight of the classmates returning to the massive H-shaped building, I caught a few glances¡ªsome surprised, some indifferent, one concerned. Setsuna, who had witnessed my earlier encounter with Himiko and had time to analyze it, watched tensely, her eyes flicking between me and Toga.

    I gave her the universal ¡°okay¡± sign with my fingers. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m in control of the situation.¡±

    I wish I actually felt that way.

    We rounded the corner of the gym, and Toga looked around, choosing a direction. She seemed to be searching for a quiet spot. I gently unhooked her hand from my sleeve, indicating that I¡¯d walk on my own.

    U.A.¡¯s grounds were filled with greenery, well-kept trees, lawns, and flowerbeds. The sports field where we had just been was surrounded by a park. I expected her to take me there, but instead, she led me to a small gymnastic area surrounded by climbing walls on three sides.

    Still, a fairly public place.

    Maybe I¡¯m underestimating her?

    I brushed against a bush, feeling a slight sting. There was no one around, just silence, with only the distant sound of commands being shouted in the background. Here, we were alone.

    We walked past the first climbing wall, entering a ¡°box¡± filled with various obstacles. Toga suddenly turned to face me fully.

    She froze in a strange pose¡ªhunched, arms limp at her sides, knees slightly inward. She licked her lips, staring at my hand. I followed her gaze with a surprise and saw a small scratch, with a bead of blood forming where I had brushed against the bush.

    I slowly wiped the blood away, watching her.

    She muttered to herself:

    ¡°...not enough. Not enough blood¡­¡±

    I¡¯ll have to pick up some garlic on the way home.

    ¡°My name is Niren Shoda. What did you want to talk about?¡±

    The girl blinked and then grinned again.

    ¡°Yes! Yes! You¡¯re just like me!¡±

    ¡°Meani¡ª¡±

    ¡°Living is hard!¡± she exclaimed, clenching her fists against her chest. ¡°I want to make the world simpler and easier! So I can live honestly and openly! That¡¯s what you were talking about when we first met at school, right? ¡®Make the world bend to your will!¡¯ I remembered!¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    I¡¯d wondered why she acted so brazenly in our first class when she could have easily played the role of a sweet, obedient girl.

    It¡¯s because she doesn¡¯t want to hide anymore. Well, I guess that stone would have started rolling anyway¡ªit¡¯s just that I pushed it in a different direction.

    Or was it the same?

    ¡°Yes, I said something like that.¡±

    ¡°People make everything complicated,¡± Toga pouted. In the U.A. uniform and with her twin buns, she somehow looked perfectly normal. For now. ¡°You can¡¯t be yourself, you can¡¯t be honest¡­ even though everyone is hunting for something¡ªfriends, a partner, a job, a group¡­ people will do anything for that, even crush others¡¯ hopes. But they pretend they don¡¯t!¡±

    I nodded silently. It wasn¡¯t that I agreed completely, but in this conversation, I needed to be on her side.

    ¡°They say they value honesty and sincerity!¡± She suddenly darkened. ¡°But when I tell people honestly what I want, they don¡¯t accept me! They said I was ¡®sick¡¯... that I needed to be ¡®cured.¡¯ But all I wanted was to share what I found beautiful! Why do their opinions matter, but mine don¡¯t?¡±

    Her voice dropped, and she tilted her head:

    ¡°Tell me, do you think I¡¯m sick?¡±

    I paused before shaking my head.

    And yes, that was an honest answer. I believe her twisted psyche is a direct result of her quirk. In that case, her psychosis is her normal, optimal state¡­ according to the quirk. Or maybe, the omnipotent entity that grants us these quirks has its own agenda.

    ¡°But I don¡¯t want to hide anymore! I don¡¯t want to be ¡®cured¡¯! I am who I am. Why should I have to hide? I was ready to drop the mask back then, the one I wore for so long, and finally become who I wanted to be... and then I met you. Now I like you! I want us to be friends!¡±

    Her face was flushed, trembling slightly. Her eyes were fixed on me. If she had a tail, it would¡¯ve been swishing back and forth.

    ¡°I like you, Niren-kun! I can feel it¡ªyou¡¯ll soon be covered in blood from head to toe! You¡¯re just like me, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯re pretending! I want to be friends with you. I want to know everything about you! I want to talk with you¡­ and¡­¡±

    Her animal-like intuition was giving me chills. My voice was hoarse as I asked:

    ¡°And something else?¡±

    She swayed from side to side, intertwining her fingers:

    ¡°I want to be you. I want to cut you. I want to drink all your blood¡­ first to see it cover your body and the ground around you,¡± Toga dreamily closed her eyes, hugging herself. ¡°And then drink it all, down to the last drop!¡±

    I carefully reminded her:

    ¡°If you drink all my blood, I¡¯ll die, won¡¯t I?¡±

    Toga bared her teeth. Now she looked insane¡ªinsane enough that I could believe this schoolgirl had killed people with the same grin.

    ¡°You won¡¯t die, because I¡¯ll become you!¡±

    That didn¡¯t land. Let¡¯s try again:

    ¡°But you wanted to be friends with me, didn¡¯t you, Toga?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ the best-best of friends!¡± she jumped like a cheerleader, bending her knees and spreading her arms wide.

    ¡°But friends don¡¯t do things like that, Toga,¡± I said, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. I removed my jacket and carefully hung it on a nearby climbing hook, left only in my sleeveless shirt.

    ¡°Why not?¡± She tapped her finger against her lips, as if deep in thought. ¡°You¡¯re my good friend. Aren¡¯t you friends with me, Niren-kun?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re not considering what others want. What if I don¡¯t want to bleed out?¡±

    ¡°You just haven¡¯t tried it yet,¡± Himiko answered with certainty.

    I suddenly heard voices beyond the wall¡ªturning my head toward the sound and momentarily breaking eye contact.

    The moment Toga pulled out a knife¡ªnot just any blade, but, as I later learned, a Hattori Ultra combat boot knife, issued to Japanese special forces¡ªI missed.

    She lunged at me like lightning. One moment, she was there¡ªthen...

    I barely dodged her wide overhead slash.

    Barely didn¡¯t count.

    Did you think I predicted the strike by analyzing her stance, the direction of the wind, or ¡°Mars shining bright tonight¡±? Or that I saw it reflected in the knife blade, or something else far-fetched?

    Of course not. I just put a marker on her hand when we were walking here.

    Though I seemed to avoid the flashing blade, I still felt a searing pain in my shoulder. Blood dripped onto the ground. A quick glance revealed that she had slashed through my uniform sleeve, my epidermis, dermis, and even into the muscle.

    Damn, I knew she was dangerous. But this dangerous¡­

    Damn it, how did that happen? I was sure¡ª

    Wait. A step-in with a simultaneous thrust, followed by an upward strike, I¡¯ve seen this before¡­

    Toga jumped back, rolling her eyes in ecstasy, licking the blood off her blade.

    Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out why her movements seemed so familiar. I had never formally studied knife combat; I¡¯d only seen a few demonstrations from experts, particularly my first master at the dojo where I trained in my early years¡ªToga-sensei, who, among other things, taught knife combat and hand-to-hand techniques to military officers under contract.

    ¡°To-ga¡±¡­ that¡¯s a surname¡­ and he was blonde¡­

    ¡°A-ha!¡± The realization hit like a supernova.

    Oh, these aren¡¯t ¡°similar¡± movements¡ªthey¡¯re the exact same strikes!

    Toga-sensei had mentioned having a ¡°problematic daughter¡±...

    ¡°Oh my god¡­ I could¡¯ve met her back then¡­ maybe even saved her from her quirk and loneliness¡­¡±

    I heard my voice from afar:

    ¡°That¡¯s not a very nice thing to do.¡±

    At this moment, Toga didn¡¯t respond. Because it wasn¡¯t Toga. Now, standing before me, was my pirate copy, with the last vestiges of the quirk¡¯s pseudopodia disappearing from her skin.

    "I" smiled in a very unsettling way, and with a scream of, ¡°Niren-kun, I¡¯m so happy! So happy! Your blood is so delicious!¡± she lunged at me, slashing the air with her knife.

    Watching myself¡ªespecially like this¡ªfrom the outside was incredibly creepy. The resemblance to a cheap pirate knockoff was only enhanced by the fact that Himiko¡¯s quirk not only transformed her body but also her clothing. I noticed how her uniform ¡°melted¡± into mine, like molten wax.

    We circled each other, Toga craving more of my blood, while I wasn¡¯t exactly eager to share it.

    I tried to appeal to her reasoning¡ªshe was attacking a classmate with a knife on the very first day¡­

    But she wasn¡¯t listening. Himiko acted like a wild animal, lunging at me repeatedly for more blood, leaving me a bit at a loss.

    ¡°Toga, you¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to change, I don¡¯t want to hide, I don¡¯t want to suppress myself!¡± Her voice was high-pitched, irritated, and childlike, as if she were a little kid covering her ears to avoid hearing their parents¡¯ scolding.

    The absurdity of the situation was only heightened by the fact that it was my voice¡ªher quirk had even copied that.

    Too bad Yui and Setsuna weren¡¯t here; they would¡¯ve had an unforgettable existential crisis...

    I narrowly dodged a sharp jab, as if from a rapier. Toga¡¯s knife skills were exceptional.

    Thoughts of knocking her out as quickly as possible started to swirl in my head. I wasn¡¯t made of steel¡ªwhat if she seriously hurt me? Should I activate a marker on her arm when she gets close, trip her, and pin her down? Force her to listen?

    Yeah, brilliant plan.

    But first¡­ if she¡¯s acting like an animal¡­

    I needed a leash.

    I accelerated and went on the offensive, grabbing her knife hand and locking it in place. Toga struggled¡ªno doubt skilled at breaking out of holds¡ªbut I¡¯d already gotten what I needed.

    With her knife hand secured, I cut my own palm.

    I winced. It wasn¡¯t pleasant, but I could bear it.

    Jumping back, I thrust my bloodied hand toward Toga, who tilted her head in surprise, and I curtly said:

    ¡°Drink. Lick it off.¡±

    Toga froze, hesitating¡ªher script had clearly broken. She replied, uncertainly:

    ¡°Huh? Huuuh? But I¡¯m not an animal¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, you are an animal,¡± I shot back, ¡°if you can¡¯t control your desires. I never asked you to suppress them, but you¡¯re like a little kid who wants candy but refuses to use the bathroom. Where¡¯s this childishness coming from?¡±

    ¡°But I like Niren¡­ I really, really want to be him!¡±

    ¡°Well, Niren doesn¡¯t like you like this! Control yourself, you¡¯re a rational being!¡±

    ¡°No, no, no, no, no, I want it NOW!¡± Toga exploded, no longer smiling. ¡°I want MORE! Blood, blood, blood, drink, drink¡­¡±

    I began pulling my hand away, but she leaped forward...

    A large, soft, slightly pink fluffy cloud suddenly appeared between us.

    Toga jumped back, and we both turned to the side with matching irritation.

    Turns out, we had an audience.

    The voices I¡¯d heard earlier belonged to another class of upper-year students, likely here for a lesson. They had frozen upon seeing us, but not all of them: a cute girl with soft pink hair stepped forward and created the fluffy cloud between us.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asked me calmly.

    ¡°Yeah, totally fine,¡± I muttered darkly. Great.

    How was I going to get Toga out of this? What was I supposed to say? And if a teacher saw this? Attacking a classmate with a knife, even in this world where the definition of normal was stretched beyond belief, was too much. If they put her under surveillance or did a proper interview¡­ a psych evaluation? They¡¯d expel her on the spot¡­

    Toga moved around the cloud¡ªnaturally, I saw her maneuver and shook my head in warning¡ªbut it seemed she had completely lost her grasp on what was acceptable and what wasn¡¯t. She nearly reached me, raising the blade when...

    With a loud ¡°WHOOSH¡±, something white flew past me, and the ¡°dark Niren¡± figure was suddenly entangled in white ribbons, arms and legs bound. I turned once again.

    Aizawa. His eyes glowing, hair standing on end, with his tail raised high like a flagpole (kidding)¡ªyep, he was using his quirk.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± he asked, sticking to the classics.

    ¡°Training,¡± I answered curtly, praying to every god that they¡¯d just leave us alone and give me a chance to connect with her. If we lost such a valuable asset, I¡¯d tear my hair out in frustration!

    ¡°No, no, no¡­¡± Himiko started muttering again, struggling against Aizawa¡¯s bindings.

    And then¡­

    To be honest, I¡¯m not sure how I realized what was about to happen before anyone else. Maybe I remembered something from the anime. Or maybe I just processed the information faster.

    Either way, here¡¯s what happened.

    Picture this: you have one Toga Himiko, tied up because she poses a danger to other students. Toga¡¯s quirk is currently giving her someone else¡¯s appearance, transforming her and her clothes. You have a whole class of upper-year students¡ªtwenty of them¡ªwatching. Sometimes, all it takes to ruin someone¡¯s life is an audience. And you have one Aizawa¡¯s quirk, which cancels out others¡¯ quirks.

    Toga¡¯s disguise¡ªthe appearance of me¡ªmelted off her in chunks of gray doe, leaving her not only unmasked but entirely without clothing.

    With her arms and legs tied, unable to cover herself.

    Under the eyes of over twenty people.

    A moment of stunned silence. Then a sob broke through.

    Oh, crap.

    I shot past Aizawa at Iida-level speed, making him recoil, and threw my jacket over Toga, covering her naked body with the blue fabric. Only at that moment did Aizawa remove his ribbons, forcing me to hold the jacket in place, effectively hugging the sexy psycho who had just tried to stab and eat me.

    Absolutely perfect.

    Heroes, huh. Just standing there, watching...

    Like any ordinary girl, Toga stood there, blushing furiously, softly whimpering, trying to both wrap herself in the too-small jacket and wipe away her tears.

    After a quick scan of my surroundings, I chose the best exit and led her away, skirting the group of shocked students.

    ¡°Do you always plan your actions this well?¡± I shot at Aizawa sarcastically as I passed.

    I swear by all gods and demons, he actually looked a bit embarrassed.

    <u>Illustrations</u><u>:</u>

    <u></u>

    Where they went: the red arrow shows the path, and the blue arrow marks the approximate location (behind the gym and surrounded by trees).

    Actually, Toga isn¡¯t a yandere; she¡¯s a typical harem series character who just really needs the protagonist.

    Yes, she can cry too.

    The girl with soft pink hair and the cloud quirk (more details in chapter twelve-something). At some point, my readers and I debated whether her hair color is closer to romantic sakura or not-so-romantic raw chicken.

    The class of that pink-haired girl at U.A.

    Finally, the canon moment that inspired this chapter: Toga explaining her quirk and confirming that it transforms her clothes along with her, leaving her without them after the transformation ends.

    Why include this screenshot? To demonstrate that before she completely lost her marbles in canon (around Twice''s death, maybe), she was still capable of feeling human embarrassment.

    <u>Author''s Note</u><u>:</u>

    This chapter was a nightmare to write. I wracked my brain trying to figure out where they should go, who they should meet, and how. I rewatched clips of Himiko https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIgSjC44IPI and reread her wiki https://myheroacademia.fandom.com/wiki/Himiko_Toga because she¡¯s not your typical yandere, and writing her accurately was exhausting. I ended up working all night, occasionally dozing off, and I don¡¯t even want to know how much sleep I actually got. Anyway, sending good vibes and tomatoes your way! (Why tomatoes?)

 Episode 11. Part II.

    In the situation with Aizawa, Toga, and the cancellation of her quirk, I acted on emotions, improvising without a clear plan. That''s why I was now actively thinking, trying to find an easier way out of this situation. Toga, quietly sniffling under my arm, clearly wasn¡¯t in any state to make decisions.

    At least, I had taken the knife from her.

    "Funny," - an unwelcome thought popped into my head while we were circling the gymnasium in a wide arc, moving close to the bushes, - "it¡¯s the first time in fifteen years I¡¯m squeezing a half-naked girl."

    However, neither the situation nor the girl herself prompted such thoughts at all, despite the adrenaline still making my heart race.

    So. Another problem.

    Where do you take a naked, unstable girl who needs clothes when you''re on the grounds of a huge, crowded educational complex?

    The locker room where Toga''s clothes are stored was out of the question: it¡¯s in the main building, and if I don¡¯t want to traumatize the already p?s?y?c?h?o?p?a?t?h? poor thing even more, we can¡¯t walk past a crowd of students.

    Her room in the dormitory¡­

    I turned my head to look at Himiko, wrapped in my jacket:

    ¡°Did you register for the freshmen''s dorm?¡±

    She flinched, froze for a moment, and then silently shook her head.

    ¡­ She¡¯s so small, about a head and a half shorter than me¡­

    Well, that¡¯s out.

    Leave her alone somewhere safe while I run to the locker room for her things?

    Not even funny. That¡¯s out, because you can¡¯t leave this disaster in a skirt¡­ well, no skirt anymore¡­ alone. Maybe ever, but especially not now.

    Kami-sama, why did I even take this on¡­

    Oh right, I wanted to be a hero, of course.

    Sighing heavily, I led the blonde girl to the dorms.

    To my room.

    ***

    U.A. had dorms for all students, from every course and faculty. Around the conglomerate of school buildings, sports fields, and parks ran a wide promenade, and on the other side were neat rows of the student town. Each course had its own ¡°block¡± of standard houses, each class had its own separate house, and every student had their own room.

    Interestingly, the Academy''s prestige wasn''t shown by the size of the rooms, which were quite modest, but by the fact that every student could order a custom interior, right down to having branded furniture, rugs, exercise equipment, or specialized gadgets installed, like recording studio gear.

    Naturally, I hadn''t had time to take advantage of any of that, nor had I really planned to. But both Setsuna and Yui were thrilled at the possibilities. They just showed it in different ways.

    In our class dorm - and it was impossible to mistake it, with the huge number "1A" on the front - there were five floors. The first was communal, with a living room and a large kitchen. Cozy, with lots of sofas. And several showers too, so we wouldn¡¯t need to crowd. The other four floors were residential, divided into two small wings, one for boys and one for girls, with four rooms in each.

    The heroics department had twenty students, but there were thirty-two rooms, though I knew that other faculties could have more people, and I also knew that ¡°late bloomers¡± from the general education department could transfer to us.

    I always preferred to live higher up, to look out the window over the rooftops, so I had settled into a vacant room on the fifth floor ¨C as it turned out, next to Todoroki, Sero, Momo, and Setsuna, who liked to fly straight out of her window, and Tsuyu. And Toga.

    There was no one in the building; no guards were assigned here, the students themselves we?r?e?n?''?t? are responsible for order. There was only an automated pass system at the entrance, which we had no problem bypassing ¨C strict as it may seem, U.A.¡¯s security system wouldn¡¯t let any random people get in.

    In short¡­ after quickly crossing the open space in front of the dorm and hurrying up the stairs, I brought the almost naked blonde, covered in some sticky, whitish goo (ugh¡­), to my room. I rummaged through my suitcase and handed her soap, shampoo, a towel, and a pair of my home clothes. She can wear these to the locker room in the main building ¨C after all, she won¡¯t melt.

    By that time, the girl had come to her senses and, still wrapped in my jacket, was looking around in confusion, trying to figure out what I was doing and why.

    Resisting the urge to slap her on the butt (she¡¯d probably stab me in my sleep afterward), I sent her to the shower, strictly telling her to come back. "I hope she doesn''t run away," I thought, feeling a fleeting concern over the fact that I even had the desire to slap someone on the butt who had just tried to slice me up like sashimi ten minutes ago. Especially in this situation. Especially a naked Toga Himiko...

    I rubbed my eyes.

    Pulled the knife from my belt and tossed it into the drawer.

    Exhausted. It¡¯s only noon, and I¡¯m already tired.

    Later, I learned that the grayish-white mass that remains on Himiko¡¯s body (and around her) after a transformation wasn¡¯t sticky at all; on the contrary, that oily, slimy substance seemed specially designed to harmlessly slide off her figure without leaving traces on her disguise. After hitting the ground, this mass quickly ¡°dissolved,¡± turning into a puddle that rapidly evaporated or soaked into the earth.

    Once again, I was convinced that quirks, whatever their origins, were thought out down to the smallest detail. Just like the human body...

    I looked around the room and, for the first time, regretted not bothering with the decor. It didn¡¯t just look boring, it looked downright dreary ¨C a desk with drawers in the style of "Ikea with love," a matching dresser with an unnecessary TV monitor on top, a small coffee table on the floor, a bed, a chair, a trash can. A large curtained window with an air conditioner in the wall.

    And that¡¯s it. No rug, no paintings, no pull-up bar, nothing.

    I¡¯ll have to take care of it. Maybe I¡¯ll ask Setsuna; unlike me, she has taste¡­

    Speaking of her: my phone vibrated, displaying a message full of emojis and exclamation points. The gist of it was "everything okay?" and I couldn¡¯t help but smile. I texted a short reply and walked over to the window.

    Pulling back the hideous green curtain, I stared through the glass at the park.

    What if Himiko runs away now? Good luck finding someone with a quirk more suited for that. After all, she ran away in canon too, leaving her family and school, and in the end, hiding from the police and heroes, she started killing people left and right. And drinking their blood. What guarantees do I have that Toga won¡¯t run away now, and end up joining the League of Villains just like that? Or ¨C that she won¡¯t run away in a week?

    She didn¡¯t like the lessons, I didn¡¯t let her carve me into salad, she hasn¡¯t fallen in love with a bloodied, broken Izuku yet, and her first day was marked by a nightmare, an event humiliating for any girl...

    Sighing, I was forced to admit that I had no guarantees. I now had a ticking time bomb in my class, and while I might have some minimal influence over Himiko, only time (and specialized psychological help) would show whether my decision to support her was wise.

    Or - just incredibly stupid.

    ¡­ When Himiko came back, she placed my clothes in a pile by the wall and froze in the doorway, which I hadn¡¯t closed. I had already treated the cut on my palm, scrubbed off the dried blood, and was finishing unpacking. I never liked sitting around doing nothing, so I had found something to occupy myself with this time too.

    The girl looked¡­ oh.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    As I¡¯ve mentioned before, I was one hundred eighty centimeters tall at the time. Toga, on the other hand, was barely one meter and sixty, which, combined with her slim waist and petite but toned body, made her look tiny.

    Obviously, we didn¡¯t wear the same size clothes.

    As a result, she had rejected the sports pants I¡¯d given her and only pulled on an old oversized T-shirt of mine, which on her looked like a dress. A short one. A very revealing one!

    And naturally, there wasn¡¯t a bra among my things (despite Setsuna''s attempts at pranks).

    Her look was completed by damp, tousled hair that reached down to her shoulder blades.

    I blinked. I never thought that the first girl to seriously make me consider her attractiveness would be¡­ her.

    There was no trace of Toga¡¯s recent manic, but cheerful attitude. She didn¡¯t look depressed either. More like thoughtful and awkward, like someone who didn¡¯t know what to do or how to act around me.

    Well, at least we¡¯re on the same page - I have no idea what to do with you either.

    What should I do with you, Himiko Toga?

    Stop you from becoming a villain, sure.

    Maybe even try to use you to fight them, considering how amazing your quirk is - sure.

    But how to deal with you as a person?

    I had no clue.

    At that moment, I leaned toward the idea that Toga¡¯s quirk, in many ways, was a disease. She wasn¡¯t to blame for what her ability had made her. Maybe¡­ maybe she could still be saved, if she learned to control her quirk better, to resist her irrational desires. To separate herself from this power.

    Or at least, that¡¯s what I thought back then.

    "Why are you helping me?" - she finally asked, frowning.

    I walked closer and, gesturing for her to move aside, gently closed the door.

    "Because I want to be your friend," - I told the truth (yeah, with friends like these, who needs enemies, but why I want it specifically doesn¡¯t concern you), sitting down on the bed. "Because that¡¯s what heroes do, they save people. And I want to be a hero. And¡­ because I don¡¯t think you¡¯re to blame for what happened."

    Himiko¡¯s yellow eyes widened:

    "But I attacked you!"

    I shook my head:

    "That wasn¡¯t you. Not entirely. That was your quirk. You need to separate, understand?"

    She stepped back, frowning and shaking her head:

    "But it''s me who wants¡­ the blood. My desire. My nature. I want to live like this."

    "No. It¡¯s the animal, the monster inside you that wants to wallow in and bathe in blood. But you¡­"

    Her yellow eyes darkened, and she grabbed the edge of the damp T-shirt, sharply outlining what was underneath. But I felt a chill of danger crawl up my spine. I was starting to think I¡¯d soon develop a sense specifically for detecting danger from Toga Himiko.

    She clearly didn¡¯t like what I had said. But why?

    "... Niren-kun too, right? You also think I''m abnormal? Crazy? A monster¡­" - she muttered, lowering her head so her hair covered her eyes, stepping back toward the door. I tiredly noted another inhuman grin that split her face in two.

    Damn it! You¡¯re so difficult, woman! I locked the door, not wanting her to break it down. Or, who knows, decide I had locked her in on purpose, to¡­ do something.

    "Toga. I think you¡¯re normal. And I don¡¯t think you¡¯re crazy or a monster," - I said loudly, hoping to reach her the first time.

    Was I lying? Yes, absolutely. Maybe not a monster yet, but definitely not entirely normal. The chances that I could ¡°bring her back to the light¡± and all that were pretty slim.

    But where, in this world, have you ever truly seen this ''normality''?

    And am I ''normal'' myself? I strongly doubt it.

    The most important thing here is that even if I can¡¯t ¡°fix¡± her¡­ there will still be some benefit.

    Even if she doesn¡¯t become a hero - at least she won¡¯t become a villain.

    Toga¡¯s reaction amused me: she froze in place, then started jumping furiously, flailing her arms in the air, and whining:

    "I don¡¯t understand! I don¡¯t understand anything! Why are you calling me ¡®normal¡¯?! Why are you helping me?! Why¡­"

    "Hey," - I averted my gaze, - "you¡­ aren¡¯t wearing a bra. Please, refrain from dancing."

    Toga let out a soft squeak, blushed, and very girlishly covered her chest. How does she manage to pull that off?

    "Why don''t you just stand still for a bit... or sit... somewhere," I sighed, looking around the room, got up from the bed, and stepped back to the wall so I wouldn''t see anything I shouldn¡¯t when she sat down. "Listen to me carefully, try to understand. And I''ll try to explain it well. Deal?"

    Toga tilted her head¡ªapparently, that helps her think¡ªand sat on the bed, hugging her knees, cautiously watching me.

    "... You know, many people have certain... behavioral deviations. Everyone does. Some smoke, some drink, while others can''t stand either. Some like their meat well-done, others prefer it rare. Some are into girls, some into guys, and that doesn''t always match their gender. Some lose their minds over stockings and skirts, while others are into office pants. Right? We''re all different, but we all have something that makes our hearts race. Something we dream about. Something we crave, that excites us, something we¡¯re willing to go to great lengths for¡ªworking out, working hard, traveling, stepping out of our comfort zones."

    I answered the question she hadn''t asked:

    "Yes, in your case, it¡¯s blood. But look: like I said, everyone has these desires. Some are stronger, like yours, and are harder to control. Others are weaker. But people learn to control these urges and satisfy them in ways that are acceptable¡ªthey smoke where it''s allowed, sleep with their partner, in a brothel, with a rubber doll, or just alone in the dark with a themed website. They¡­ most of them don¡¯t stick their hand up a cute student¡¯s skirt on a crowded bus. How are you different?"

    I knew I was talking about things that were vulgar and inappropriate, especially for such a serious topic, but I couldn''t think of a better example.

    Toga blushed.

    "You have a difficult quirk. Very strong desires, very hard to control. But difficult doesn''t mean impossible! You¡ªI mean you specifically, not your quirk, but you¡ªwant to be my friend, right? And probably make friends with a couple of nice girls from our course?" I was guessing, but something told me I was on the right track. "It''s possible. You¡¯re almost there with me already!"

    I tried to give her a sincere smile. Though it probably looked more like a grimace of toothache.

    "But friends, well, they don¡¯t like it when they get STABBED WITH A KNIFE! They stop being friends when that happens! And then they bleed out, die, and that''s the end¡ªyou have no more friends! And you¡¯re all alone! Again!"

    The blonde in the pale blue T-shirt flinched all over and stared at me as if she were seeing me for the first time.

    "... Alone, like you were before, right? Himiko¡­ if you don¡¯t want to be alone, and you want to have friends, real ones, who will help you, like I did today, who will share secrets with you, and talk, like we¡¯re talking, and who won¡¯t think you¡¯re a freak or a monster¡­ you need to control yourself. Find a way to satisfy your thirst that¡¯s safe for your friends, or for people in general. That¡¯s it. So you won¡¯t risk your friends¡¯ lives. So you can control your quirk and be a person¡­ or even to be a different person. But not follow your quirk lead and lose everything and everyone in a result¡ªfriends, home, family, school, yourself..."

    She turned away and lowered her head.

    I looked at her, expecting to see a killer and a psychopath¡­

    But all I saw was a small schoolgirl whose life had been rough on her since childhood. Midoriya doesn''t even come close... Toga never found her own All Might until the very end.

    At that moment, I tilted my head to the side myself.

    ... Or maybe she did

    I spoke hoarsely:

    "Right now, I¡¯m offering you my help. Right now. A chance to have friends who understand you, a chance to have a real life where you¡¯ll be accepted as you are. Because I like you too, and I want to be friends with you. Friendship works like this: people help each other in tough times. But you have to consider your friends¡¯ opinions. I¡¯ll help you. I¡¯ll meet you halfway. But you¡¯ll listen to me. Deal?"

    Toga raised her eyes, and I realized she was crying. She just sat quietly on my bed, clutching her knees, silently letting tears fall onto my oversized T-shirt.

    I swallowed a lump in my throat. I never could get used to such a sight.

    "It¡¯d be funny if she¡¯s just playing a role right now, and you¡¯re overestimating your amateur psychology skills," - the thought flashed through my mind. It flashed and was gone.

    "Stand up."

    The girl slowly rose from the bed.

    "You want to drink my blood. And ''become me,'' whatever that means. Right?" I asked.

    Himiko nodded jerkily, looking to the side.

    "But I¡¯m your friend. You do not kill a friend. You can¡¯t cut a friend because it¡¯ll hurt them, and then the friendship will end, and you¡¯ll be alone again."

    Okay, ¡°you can¡¯t kill and cut a person¡± is too complicated a concept for now. Let¡¯s stick with ¡°friend¡±¡ªget that across, make it stick. Maybe I can get her to make friends with someone else, someone who won¡¯t run away in horror.

    I pray she doesn¡¯t hurt anyone in the coming weeks, and then we¡¯ll get through this¡­

    "Look at me."

    Her yellow eyes looked, and I was struck by how many different emotions were mixed in them. Bitterness, pain, panic, sadness, joy, confusion, wonder, admiration... I probably understood only half of it. I¡¯ve always thought that emotions were impossible to read in someone¡¯s eyes, but... there was one feeling I was sure of.

    Hope. Hope was the strongest thing burning in her gaze.

    I hope so too. I hope I won¡¯t regret what I¡¯m about to do. I really do.

    "I¡¯m willing to share... part... of my blood with you. On a regular basis. I¡¯ll do this if you promise to listen to me, don¡¯t hurt other people, and control your thirst. Later we¡¯ll find other ways to help you manage your quirk, but for now, this."

    The girl¡¯s eyes widened, sparkled, and her cheeks flushed¡­ but there was no crazy grin. She seemed too shocked for that.

    I held out my arm¡ªmy left forearm¡ªand, not knowing what else to add, said:

    "This is called a ¡®compromise¡¯. Friends do that often. The knife¡¯s in the drawer..."

    I don¡¯t know what she needs for this. A straw, like for a milkshake?

    After a moment¡¯s hesitation, Toga approached me, slowly opened her mouth¡ªand sank her fangs into my forearm, looking straight into my eyes.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    To the right, you can see the main building, and behind the trees, the sports fields. In the center is the "promenade," and to the left are the rows of dormitories.

    A bleak dorm room. We''ve all been there. In my student years, I had Christmas lights over my bed all year round, which made things just a bit less gloomy :)

    Toga Himiko has been found, but Niren''s shirt is still missing. But just look at how adorable she is! How could anyone deny her a little "bite"?

    <u>Author''s Note 1:</u>

    In the canon, the dormitory was built in one night by deus ex machina in just three days, but that happens only in the third season. Here, things are different.

    First of all, because foreign and out-of-town students need a place to live, and it''s absurd to think that several thousand people would be forced to rent housing in the city.

    Secondly, there''s another explanation, but it will only appear at the end of the book, and by then, everyone will have forgotten about it.

    <u>Author''s Note 2:</u>

    Fell asleep yesterday and missed the day, oops.

    I kinda feel tired all the time. I''m trying to write a few other books, two of them are originals, by the way. Would you be interested in seeing them on this platform at some point?

 Episode 11. Part III.

    I expected my first day at U.A. to be tough, but I didn''t think it would be awful.

    I was late for my summons to the principal.

    By the time I remembered it; by the time I shook off the blonde clinging to me, her eyes rolled back in something suspiciously resembling an orgasm; by the time I cursed my way through disinfecting the bite wound and stopped the bleeding with hemostatic gel¡ªand again shooed away Toga, who was afraid I''d back out of the "deal" and was trying desperately to help with something, like a big dog that keeps climbing onto your chair and getting in the way, getting in the way, getting in the way...

    Her bite hurt. Really hurt. Not wanting to risk the faint chance that I could gain control of this... bloodthirsty guinea pig, I gritted my teeth and endured. But I decided that next time, I''d find a simpler and less painful way. Maybe just ask the nurse for medical syringes and needles? Then I could collect the blood and let her drink it from a bottle or something¡­

    God, am I really making future plans about this?

    Only a minute later did I connect the dots and see the symbolism¡ªshe bit me not just because she lost her mind to her bloodlust and didn¡¯t want to waste time. No.

    Himiko also did it because I told her half an hour ago to drink blood from my hand. Honestly, I didn¡¯t expect her to actually do it, "she¡¯s not an animal"... so, what was she showing me by doing it? Was she acknowledging my... my what? I wasn¡¯t sure. My authority? My leadership?

    Her deep amber-yellow eyes, with which I had locked gazes for several minutes, filled with pain and awkwardness, stayed in my memory for a long time.

    Remembering the meeting I was now ridiculously late for, I shoved the girl wearing my t-shirt on her bare body out of the room and bolted out myself¡ªright into the bewildered gazes of Shoto Todoroki and Hanta Sero, who clearly didn¡¯t expect someone to bring a girl into their room on the first day of school.

    A girl who would leave bite marks on your body, no less.

    Oh...

    Too bad I couldn¡¯t cover my face while running.

    Shoving a few more items into Toga''s hands to make her look at least a little more decent, I rushed to U.A., slapping a bandage onto my hand crookedly on the go. It didn¡¯t occur to me, for some reason, to stop by the nurse''s office first, which would have been a perfectly legitimate course of action. Maybe.

    I reached the building. Using my Quirk would have been excessive, so I just hurried through the corridors, going from one room to the next. I had already studied the U.A. map and downloaded it onto my phone, but there was no principal¡¯s office listed.

    Probably near the teacher¡¯s lounge... nope. Not there. Where is it...

    Found it. Third floor.

    I knocked.

    "Shoda-kun, come in, come in," a cheerful voice immediately called out.

    I entered. Bright room, office desk, large window, cabinets lining the walls. Nothing unusual¡ªexcept for the owner, whom I didn¡¯t notice at first.

    "Um¡­ Principal?" I cautiously asked. I had no idea what to expect from this meeting, and it made me uncomfortable. I don¡¯t like losing control over a situation.

    There was some rustling from the direction of the desk, and then a nose appeared.

    Then its owner. Furry.

    A creature resembling a plump white mouse, about half of a meter tall by estimation, sat behind the desk. In a suit. And not just any suit¡ªa fancy one, the kind I had never worn in my life. Not in the past one, nor in this one.

    "That¡¯s right! It¡¯s me, Nezu, who might be a dog, or a rat, or a bear, but most importantly¡­ I¡¯m the principal!" the mouse in a suit cheerfully announced.

    "Uh-huh. Whatever you say. Apologies for being late, I¡­ uh¡­ was helping a classmate with... an emergency caused by her Quirk?" I asked the room, trying not to stare at the mouse in a suit.

    Seriously? A mouse in a suit.

    "It¡¯s! All! Right! Take a seat, Shoda-kun. Aizawa-kun has already informed me about the situation. And about his own oversight too! Unfortunately, neither he nor our testing committee were aware of that effect of the girl¡¯s Quirk. It¡¯s lucky you were there, thank you! I trust Toga-chan is all right?"

    I nodded. That turned out well.

    "Good, good!" the mouse exhaled with relief and genuine joy. "Now, to business. I called you in to discuss a few interesting topics that concern you. But don¡¯t rush to get nervous, it¡¯s all good things!"

    Well¡­ okay?

    "First of all, thanks again for stepping in when your classmate enlarged the robot during the entrance exam! We didn¡¯t immediately realize that it was no longer responding to the control module¡¯s commands. A Quirk affecting electronics, huh? Very interesting!"

    I nodded again and smiled a little. So far, everything was indeed going smoothly.

    "And today, I thought¡ªonce, you knew something important and figured it out faster than others, then, quite soon, a second time¡­ hmm, if it happened a third time, I¡¯d definitely think you knew something the others didn¡¯t! Something very important!" the mouse in a suit said with a playful tone, and I felt a cold wave wash over me.

    Damn it.

    "But, maybe it¡¯s just my imagination," Nezu waved a hand and leaned forward conspiratorially, "And here¡¯s something else: it¡¯s not the first time we¡¯ve had students who studied together before! Even this year, there are others, like Midoriya-kun and Bakugo-kun."

    I began to relax a little, trying to figure out where he was going with this.

    "But this is the first time in my entire career that four students specifically requested to be placed in the same class with you, Niren-kun! That makes you a very special student! I see you want to ask something?"

    Whoa. Not one of them told me...

    I cautiously asked who the fourth one was. It¡¯s not that I minded hearing all four names, but while it was obvious for both me and Nezu that the first three were Yuui, Setsuna, and Toga, the fourth... Kyotaka? Mashirao? Midoriya? Someone I didn¡¯t know yet?

    No point wasting extra time conversing with a smart person. I figured he¡¯d consider my question about the fourth one logical, and¡­

    "Oh, I see you¡¯ve already guessed the identities of the other three, huh? I bet you thought, ''no need to waste time,'' right? Haha, fine, I¡¯ll help you a little," the mouse winked, lowered his voice, and said, "Yui Kodai."

    Wait, what?

    I stared at him, and he clapped his hands:

    "What a wonderful girl and what a wonderful gesture, who would¡¯ve thought, right?"

    I¡­ don¡¯t understand his logic. How did Yui end up being the last one? He knows she¡¯s my classmate, he just said so. Hmm. Maybe I¡¯m just being slow.

    ¡­ could it be about the order in which they approached the school administration?

    "Um¡­ okay, but can you tell me the rest, please?"

    "I can!"

    I waited for a moment, but the mouse just kept smiling pleasantly.

    Is he¡­ trolling me?

    The behavior of the fluffy principal threw me completely off balance. I had no idea what to expect or what he was trying to achieve. Does he not like me, and is he showing me my place? Not funny¡ªhe¡¯s the principal, and I¡¯m a powerless student; if he wants, he can expel me. Is he trying to get something out of me...

    Nezu didn¡¯t let me finish my train of thought and calmly continued:

    "Well, now that we¡¯ve covered that and you don¡¯t have any more questions...¡±¡ªI choked on air at this point¡ª"let¡¯s continue! I won¡¯t hide it: not all members of the entrance exam committee viewed your actions favorably. Some didn¡¯t like your independent initiative and violation of the exam rules, even though they weren¡¯t written ones, and some found it suspicious how well you navigated the Center¡¯s grounds¡­"

    The mouse-principal paused meaningfully, twitching his whiskers on one side of his face¡ªwhat I figured was his version of raising an eyebrow¡ªbut I remained silent, like a fish.

    "Hmm¡­ you¡¯re not much of a talker, are you?" Nezu smiled. "Then let¡¯s play a game. I understand you¡¯re not a gambler, but you¡¯re curious, right?"

    I had no intention of replying to this either, but Tail left me no choice:

    "Come on, Niren-kun, it¡¯s simple. Just repeat after me: ''Principal Nezu, what game?'' Come on!"

    He stared at me expectantly, like I was a glass of milk that hadn¡¯t yet turned into cheese, and I, giving in, muttered:

    "What game? Principal. Nezu."

    The said fluffy principal clapped his hands joyfully, like a child, and began pacing excitedly across his desk:

    "Wonderful, Niren-kun! And the game is very simple, look: you ask one question, I answer, then I ask¡ªand you answer! How¡¯s that for a brilliant idea, huh? Let¡¯s go!"

    The crazy mouse placed his hands on his hips and proudly puffed out his chest, further emphasizing his belly.

    I blinked. The principal of the best superhero school in the country called me in to play a game?

    Well, what choice do I have...

    I thought for a second or two. I clarified.

    "Can I answer a question with another question?"

    "Of course!"

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    I opened my mouth, ready to ask my first question, but Nezu stopped me with an uplifted finger:

    "Wait, wait, Niren-kun, you miscalculated! You¡¯ve already asked your question, now it¡¯s my turn! Let¡¯s play fair!" the mouse nodded importantly.

    When did I¡­ ask¡­

    His beady black eyes showed no emotion, yet I could feel in my gut that he was laughing at me.

    "Can I answer a question with a question?"¡ªthe question I had asked, right?

    I silently and calmly nodded, suppressing the urge to yank someone''s whiskers off.

    "And now, for the second round, yippee! Have you ever thought," Nezu suddenly turned sharply and pointed a finger at me, "that you¡¯re not alone? Maybe there are others, people like you, who share your burden... hmm?"

    I broke into a cold sweat.

    What is he talking about? Who is he talking about, damn it?! Heroes? Geniuses? Other reincarnated people? Amplifiers? That I¡¯m taking on too much? That¡­

    "Thought so," I blurted out thoughtlessly in response, because that Jerry was still waiting for an answer.

    "Excellent!" he replied cheerfully. "Wonderful. Now¡ªyour turn!"

    Is he serious?

    The few questions I had prepared vanished from my mind, so I just gestured around the office, meaning the whole of U.A., and asked where they get the money for all this.

    "I play the stock market. And now," he clapped again, "my turn! Niren-chan"¡ªI cringed at the overly familiar nickname¡ª"tell me, why are you hiding the nature of your Quirk?"

    I gripped the armrests of my chair tightly.

    "You see, observing you from a certain point of view, it¡¯s quite obvious that you don¡¯t have a typical ''amplification'' Quirk. Of course, I could lay it out in detail, but it must be obvious to you as well, so I won¡¯t waste our precious time. So... why?"

    Okay¡­ stay calm, everything is under control. I knew this moment would come sooner or later.

    I had a backup plan for what to say, in case I got caught.

    Though, I never imagined in my worst nightmares that I¡¯d be exposed on the very first day...

    Fine. Plan B.

    I nodded slowly, consciously forcing myself to stay calm.

    "Yes, I don¡¯t have a typical amplification Quirk. I... was saving the details for the sports festival. After all, they highlight promising students there, so I... I just didn¡¯t want to fall behind those lucky ones, which is why I wrote it in my resume, since I¡¯m not inferior to them in abilities," I stared at the mouse with honest, naive eyes. "I can release¡­ something like energy pulses from my hands and feet, or even my whole body. It¡¯s like waves of energy, I guess. I can push myself, I can push objects."

    To demonstrate, I used a weak marker above my palm, causing a pop and a gust of air. I finished speaking and sat quietly, waiting¡­

    Nezu smiled again and shook his head.

    "You don¡¯t trust anyone, do you?"

    Goddamn it.

    I squinted and twitched the corner of my mouth, giving no other sign of how much this portable Sherlock Holmes was getting on my nerves.

    "It¡¯s my turn now. Principal."

    "That was a rhetorical question, Niren-chan! As I understand it, unlike Midoriya-kun and most of your classmates, you don¡¯t need to learn the basics. I¡¯ll direct you later to someone with a similar Quirk, who might help you unlock its potential even more!"

    I nodded again, feeling slightly skeptical.

    The next ten minutes were an emotional-intellectual rollercoaster, courtesy of Nezu, keeping me in constant tension. Just when I started to relax, thinking the tense moment had passed, Nezu would instantly, as if stabbing with a rapier, hit me with an unexpected question, and I¡¯d grit my teeth and manage to answer somehow. Forget about counterattacks¡ªI was barely keeping up with catching my breath.

    It was a total defeat. It felt like I was conversing with a monolithic wall, as if he already knew in advance what I was going to say or ask. One might think he was a telepath, reading my thoughts¡ªbut no, I knew what Quirk Nezu had. A genius intellect.

    At one point, it was again my turn to answer, and the rodent, probably for the third time, asked:

    "Tell me, Niren-chan, why don¡¯t you trust me?"

    Throughout the conversation, I had been holding my own and keeping my mouth shut, but here I let slip a bit too much:

    "Can you really be trusted one hundred percent? You¡¯re¡­¡±¡ªI realized who I was talking to¡ª"well..."

    "An animal!" the animal prompted.

    "... not a human," I managed to finish awkwardly.

    At my slip of xenophobia, the principal outright burst out laughing. A laughing rat.

    A rat laughing at me.

    "I regularly engage in discussions with a number of scholars about the modern definition of a human, so I could argue either way," the mouse cheerfully explained. "But what makes you think I¡¯m not human?"

    This time, I realized where he was going and felt like an idiot. But I couldn¡¯t get out of the trap I had set for myself.

    "The internet says you¡¯re an extremely rare case of an animal gaining a Quirk," I said resignedly.

    "Niren-chan, you seem like a smart guy, you could¡¯ve figured it out on your own!" the furry collar "lamented," and I mentally added yet another little jab to my black list. "My appearance is due to my father¡¯s Quirk, whose Quirk factor I inherited. It¡¯s just genetic ''junk'' that Quirks accumulate, phenotypic manifestations of the body¡¯s adaptations, that¡¯s all."

    He scratched his belly with a paw.

    "And as for what they write online¡­"

    "Yes, I started those rumors myself and continue to support them," the rat smiled sweetly.

    Against my will, I leaned forward and asked:

    "Why?"

    "I don¡¯t want to leave the wrong first impression... but, heh-heh, I¡¯ll tell you. You see, Niren-chan, it¡¯s better that people fear a revolt of small animals... than what someone with a super-genius intellect might do to them."

    At that moment, I genuinely felt a chill. Those absolutely inhuman, expressionless, cold black eyes were terrifying; it was all too easy, looking into them, to forget the comical exterior and believe that an overwhelming mind, unbound by morality or ethics, was gazing at the world through them¡­

    I shuddered.

    Nezu was delighted, clapped his hands¡ªand the eerie spell was broken:

    "Now it¡¯s my turn again! Niren-chan, tell me, how did you achieve such a level of control over your Quirk? Even Aizawa-kun noted that your control is exceptional! Although wait, wait, don¡¯t answer¡­ you, um¡­ trained, right?" he speculated, putting a paw to his face, mimicking deep thought.

    I bit my tongue because "trained" was exactly the word I had intended to use in my reply.

    "That doesn¡¯t count as a question, I was just theorizing out loud!" he declared.

    "Of course," I nodded, feeling irritated. Why does he break the rules he himself set? Is he just trying to drive me crazy? Testing if I¡¯ll snap and tell him exactly what I think? Will I refuse to continue the dialogue entirely?

    Of course, I wouldn¡¯t refuse¡­ not now. There¡¯s too much at stake.

    The oversized mouse mused:

    "By the way, you¡¯ve raised quite a lot of suspicion with Aizawa-kun¡­"

    Nezu leaned over the desk and asked conspiratorially in a lowered voice:

    "You¡¯re not a spy, are you, Niren-chan?"

    These intellectual games were getting on my nerves. And on top of that, he was cheating.

    So I did what I always do when I can¡¯t find an elegant way out or around a conflict¡ªI butted back like a ram:

    "I¡¯m definitely not. What about you?"

    Nezu laughed.

    "Let¡¯s stop playing, I¡¯m tired; it¡¯s hard to think, so hard, so hard... you don¡¯t mind, do you?" he asked, pulling a massive cigar out of his desk drawer and apparently preparing to smoke.

    I dislike cigarettes and cigars. Never understood the desire to harm one¡¯s body for momentary pleasure, and even more so, to harm and inconvenience others around, for whom passive smoking is just as bad, if not worse.

    So, being tired and quite irritated, I took the bait:

    "Actually, I do obj¡­"

    Nezu, not letting me finish, lowered the end of the cigar into a hole in the desk, chopped off the tip with some built-in device, the name of which I don¡¯t know, then waited for a flame to ignite in the hole, and began "roasting" the cut end as if it were a kebab.

    All the while, I had to sit there and stare at this¡­ this¡­

    Finally, the principal puffed with satisfaction, exhaled, and the room was instantly filled with a suffocating, thick, acrid smoke.

    My eye twitched.

    Damn it, he¡¯s playing my nerves like a guitar. I tried to calm myself.

    The plush jerk pointed the glowing end of the cigar at me:

    "When you want to talk again, come by, we¡¯ll definitely chat! Do you play chess or Go?"

    After a pause, I shook my head:

    "I play both, but not with you."

    "Afraid to lose?" He puffed again, and I tensed again. His squint with those beady eyes looked very peculiar.

    "Afraid¡­ no. I¡¯m certain I¡¯ll lose, which is why I don¡¯t want to waste my time."

    "Well, well¡­ you¡¯re too hard on the boy who was called a genius at four years old, whose parents were convinced he had an intelligence-boosting Quirk. And who turned down a recommendation to our Academy."

    Just¡­ f*ck.

    At this point, I was completely speechless and couldn¡¯t find a response.

    Good job staying under the radar, huh, Niren? Hid your intelligence well, didn¡¯t you? Who¡¯d be surprised by high intellect in an anime world, right? Played the f**king spy games, huh¡­ in the sandbox while the grown-ups assessed your usefulness. Played and lost. Just fantastic.

    "Well then, I won¡¯t keep you. But I do hope for a game or two of chess, with your composure you¡¯d make a very interesting opponent! For a few minutes," the principal chuckled softly, and I mentally wished for him to shut up and silently suck on his brown smoldering dick.

    "Don¡¯t forget, Niren-kun, that playing against a much stronger opponent is the best way to grow and become stronger yourself!" he raised a finger in a lecturing manner. He¡¯s mocking me, the rat in pants! Go gnaw on some cheese in the kitchen, rodent!

    I tried to stand without doing so too abruptly. Then, as respectfully as I could manage, I nodded and finally moved away from the desk.

    My nose itched from the smoke, but my fists itched for other reasons.

    From behind me came a calm and barely¡ªjust barely¡ªslightly mischievous voice:

    "I¡¯ll be waiting, Niren-kun, when you come back for a rematch¡­ in our verbal duel! Do come by!"

    He reads me like a children''s book.

    Damn xenos.

    ***

    By the time I pulled myself together and made it to our classroom, it was empty. The end of the first day, after all, and everyone had already left long ago: some went home by bus, others¡ªheaded to their dorms. Even Yui and Setsuna, they still had to unpack their clothes and suitcases.

    Some overly energetic classmate, probably Mina, had left a note on the board with a goofy horned face: "Whoever¡¯s last has to clean!"

    I sighed.

    There wasn¡¯t much to clean. None of the students, not even the blond variety, had yet had the audacity to make a mess on the first day at U.A. Nevertheless, I swept, straightened the chairs, erased the board, and gathered up the leftover pamphlets.

    I glanced through them with little interest and learned nothing new¡ªI already knew the schedule and teachers.

    And just when I was about to leave the classroom, I felt my marker in the hallway. Hmm¡­ someone¡­ not moving, waiting. Yui? No, too short. Setsuna? No, markers never stick to her for long. No, it¡¯s¡­

    I closed the door behind me¡ªand turned to the blonde girl I had decided to save.

    Who now stood by the wall, wearing the brand-new hero school uniform¡ªa short skirt, one knee forward, eyes closed.

    Waiting for me.

    The yellow eyes snapped open, and her lips curved into a smile¡­

    "Hi, tast... Niren-kun. I¡¯m so happy to see you! So happy!"

    She sweetly pressed her hands to her cheeks, blushing deeply, and exclaimed:

    "I think I really, really like you!"

    Well, I kind of expected something like this.

    "Hi, Himiko. I¡­ hate honorifics, so let¡¯s drop them. Just Niren, just Himiko," I said, starting my usual speech, habitually trying to buy myself some time to think.

    I¡¯d need to find out if her head had been treated somehow before. Toga-sensei mentioned something about it¡­ I should call her father soon. Maybe I can learn something useful.

    We headed for the exit of the building.

    "Okay, Niren! Whatever you say!" she chirped, bouncing alongside me on my left. Then, blushing furiously, even more than Midoriya, she asked, "So¡­ are we dating now?"

    I stumbled.

    <u>Author¡¯s Note 1:</u>

    The well-known publicist Eliezer Yudkowsky¡ªthe author of "Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality" and a writer I look up to in my own work¡ªformulated, or rather rephrased, Vinge¡¯s Rule for writing smart characters: "A writer¡¯s hero cannot be significantly smarter than the writer."

    You can read more about it here: https://yudkowsky.tumblr.com/writing/level2intelligent

    Nezu, the principal of U.A., has super-intelligence. This is not something I or anyone else can fully portray. You can only use tricks and strategies outlined in the article.

    However, the general idea behind their dialogue was that Nezu lower Niren''s guard at first, and then chose a tactic that infuriated and unbalanced the usually calm MC¡ªwho isn¡¯t a genius but a well-prepared pedant who tries to plan his every move and who expects, above all, logic from Nezu''s super-intelligence. When there is no logic and only chaos, pedantic rationalists usually get flabbergasted, lose control and reveal themselves.

    And yes, you can be sure that the principal calculated everything that could be calculated and even more.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Here he is, Principal Nezu. You might think he¡¯s a mouse, but he¡¯s not a mouse. He¡¯s a troll.

    Canon!

    Though here he¡¯s smoking an ordinary cigarette, or at best, a cigarillo. But I figured that with his image and respectable status, a thick, disgusting, "aromatic" capitalist cigar suited him better.

    Not canon!

    It turns out that the concept of Toga as a U.A. student is quite popular in the English and Spanish MHA fandoms, and while I didn¡¯t find many popular fanfics, I did come across several artworks.

    Dude, you¡¯re in trouble¡­

    <u>Author¡¯s Note 2:</u>

    Major update: I found a job that¡¯s pretty much a dream for me. However, I¡¯ve been working a lot these days, and it¡¯s getting harder and harder to find proper time for fic uploads¡ªand I¡¯m not even talking about the actual writing.

    This means there¡¯s a high chance my pace will drop much sooner than I expected. Kind of already happening. I don¡¯t like the idea of missing upload days, so I¡¯m giving you a heads-up. I¡¯ll try to stick to the chapter-per-day pace at least until the end of Vol. 2, but delays here and there are probably inevitable at this point.

    Thank you for understanding.

 Episode 12. "The Awakening". Part I.

    First day of school, evening.

    Hallway on the fifth floor of the 1-A dormitory, U.A. Academy grounds.

    Setsuna Tokage.

    Setsuna had finally finished unpacking her belongings¡ªshe and her mom had stuffed several suitcases to the brim while packing, and as a result, she had so many "essential" items that no amount of multitasking could help her sort things out quickly. And Yui¡ªsome friend!¡ªhad flatly refused to help, citing the excuse that she also had things to unpack, and besides, "You¡¯re not a kid anymore, Setsuna. Deal with it yourself, leave me alone, and let''s talk tomorrow."

    Setsuna did manage to figure it out on her own, but she had a sneaking suspicion that winter clothes in May weren¡¯t really necessary, and that underwear probably shouldn¡¯t be piled up in the corner of the room.

    She turned the corner and headed from the women''s wing of the dorm toward the men''s.

    Well, fine! Not that anyone would come visit her often¡ªit would be her, the magnificent Setsuna, who would be dropping by to visit others! Let them feel¡­ gratitude¡­

    Setsuna slowed down, came to a stop, and finally froze in place.

    The thing was, someone was already trying to get into Niren¡¯s room, the person she had hoped to barge in on for some leisurely doing-nothing.

    That someone was¡­ Niren himself.

    Humming to himself, her friend, teacher, and, truth be told, idol, was industriously fiddling with the lock of his own door, leaning against the doorframe with his cheek, picking the lock with a knife, and very indecently sticking his rear out into the hallway.

    Setsuna blinked. She blinked again. She took her eyes into her hand, gave them a good shake, put them back in place¡­ nothing changed. Except the humming stopped.

    Tilting his head, ¡°Niren¡± was now glaring at her menacingly.

    Perhaps a year ago, under such a gaze, Setsuna would have been quite scared and taken a step back into the hallway.

    Now¡­ she still took a step back. Shifting her weight onto her right foot, she assumed a kumite fighting stance.

    She had changed a lot over the past year.

    The angry, feminine-looking Niren double tilted his head, the blade slipped from his hand¡­ and suddenly, he began to dissolve into gray¡­ drops¡­

    "T-one thousand!" Setsuna screamed and ran back down the hallway.

    Well, maybe she hadn¡¯t changed as much as she thought.

    ***

    Niren.

    From the next day, a familiar, calm routine began. How I love that word. I adore routine. Everything can be calculated, everything goes according to plan...

    Well, almost everything.

    Yeah¡­

    Early in the morning, I would wake up, get dressed, brush my teeth right in the room with a glass of water, meticulously warm up, and stubbornly head out for my run. Right through the window. Of the fifth floor.

    And there were reasons for that!

    Living in the dorm turned out to be unexpectedly difficult. Although, admittedly, it was fun too.

    First of all, in the large building with thirty two rooms, there were only fifteen of us living there¡ªMidoriya, Uraraka, Iida, Bakugo, and this weird guy Kyotaka lived at home somewhere in this city. A whole five people out of the top twenty in the entire country¡­ a strange coincidence, in my opinion. But it¡¯s not up to a reincarnated anime character like me to judge what¡¯s likely and what isn¡¯t.

    The building, if you remember, had five floors.

    And yet, almost half of our group, seven people, had managed to crowd onto the fifth floor. Actually, it was more like all eight of us, because Kirishima got bored on his own floor, where he lived alone, and he would "come over to visit." And with him came Mina, and suddenly, it turned out that he wasn¡¯t living alone after all. And Yui would come over to visit Setsuna and me...

    So that makes ten people already...

    Among them was Tokage.

    Among them was Toga.

    Spoiler: these two didn¡¯t get along from the very first day, though I wasn¡¯t sure exactly why. But I could guess, and my guess was¡­ jealousy?

    I couldn¡¯t explain their cat-and-dog relationship any other way. Setsuna kept showing her disapproval and even seemed to provoke conflict, trying to emphasize our "special relationship" (those moments usually made me laugh because Setsuna¡¯s attempts at flirting looked like a game of charades). Toga¡­ well, as you can imagine, she¡¯s not someone you want to provoke. And she wanted to be around me one hundred percent of the time.

    So, conflict arose.

    I had to resolve it, as best I could.

    I metaphorically explained to Tokage that Himiko wasn¡¯t the kind of opponent she could handle in a full-on confrontation. She couldn¡¯t get the upper hand over her.

    "Yes, even despite your regeneration."

    "Yes, even despite your ability to fly."

    "Yes, even though Toga¡¯s Quirk isn¡¯t combat-related."

    I also told her that my rose didn¡¯t grow for her, Setsuna, so there was no need for anyone to be jealous.

    I don¡¯t think she got the metaphor either.

    As for Himiko, I gently, as gently as possible when dealing with Toga, asked her to tone down her behavior.

    "Yes, trying to cut Setsuna into ribbons would look bad in the eyes of society."

    "Yes, even despite her regeneration¡­"

    In the end, the situation with my neighbors was grim: our resident yandere did her best not to let me out of her sight for a single minute, constantly following me around and waiting by the door. Mainly to get her daily dose of blood¡­ but that¡¯s a separate topic.

    The funniest thing was that Toga had developed the habit of stealing my t-shirts. And other things¡ªmy toothbrush, towel, even old bandages covered in brown stains.

    You¡¯d think locking the door and hiding my things would solve the problem, right? But no! As soon as I let my guard down¡ªwhether going to the shower, the bathroom, or even out for a run¡ªit would start¡­ ridiculous.

    And yet, that was just the dorm! The real fun began when, after I¡¯d left the locker room in U.A., I saw myself walk in wearing different clothes and casually steal my bag with my sneakers¡­ good thing I could track her by markers, so I caught the thief in time, suppressing the growing urge to give her a spanking. Instead, I sent her off to gym class¡ªThe Hound doesn''t like latecomers.

    Overall, as far as I understood, it made sense for Himiko: when she liked someone¡ªand at this point, she was only missing giving me a box of chocolates¡ªshe wanted to look like that person. Dress like them, act like them¡­ until her Quirk-driven desire overpowered her super-ego, and then Toga would lose control and really want to become that person.

    But it was so absurd¡­ seriously, I might as well start hiding my sweaty clothes in a safe.

    And since she had also moved onto my floor (next to Momo Yaoyorozu, by the way, who was terrified of her and couldn¡¯t find the courage to stand up to her), there was no escaping Himiko. Eventually, I gave up, stopped locking my door, and just hid my important things separately. I gave her about half of my belongings, leaving her wandering around the floor happy and slightly dazed.

    At first, I was irritated.

    But then I accepted it¡ªit was for the best. She needed to be supervised constantly, after all. My minor discomfort wasn¡¯t worth mentioning if it could prevent one of my classmates from getting hurt.

    ¡­Setsuna looked at me so pitifully that I ended up throwing a t-shirt at her too, practically running out of clothes to wear.

    On the other hand, having two pretty, curvy girls wandering around in oversized t-shirts that looked like dresses on them¡­ hmm¡­

    As for the blood and my vampire-like situation: not wanting to endure bites any longer, on the second day of school, I went to Recovery Girl, got treated, and asked for a few syringes for, uh¡­ feeding purposes. Understanding the situation, the cheerful old lady, who no longer aroused my suspicions, gave me a whole bandolier of one hundred-milliliter syringes, along with a supply of alcohol, cotton, and a tourniquet. She sternly explained that the needles were sterile and disposable, which I already knew. But I had to nod anyway.

    Drawing blood from a vein isn¡¯t difficult¡ªprepare the syringe, tie the tourniquet about five centimeters above the elbow, swab the injection site with alcohol¡­ usually, by then, the vein is already bulging at the bend, like an old root. Then you poke the needle into the greenish vessel at a thirty-degree angle, slowly pulling back the plunger to draw in the dark venous blood. Simple recipe¡ªall the Himiko Togas say it¡¯s finger-licking good!

    And yes, by the way, it¡¯s isopropyl alcohol, for the record. No funny business here.

    Oh, and when I returned to the dorm on the evening of the first day, I found Himiko engaged in outright vandalism¡ªtrying to pick my door¡¯s lock with a knife, charging at everyone with a new (kitchen) knife, and wandering around the building in my form. In other words, embarrassing me. And Setsuna was flying around (at a safe distance), squealing, hurling insults, and generally having a great time recording everything on camera. Me. On camera.

    The little brat didn¡¯t even say a word to me...

    In short, nobody got my blood that day. I mean, Himiko didn¡¯t, which really upset her (I was actually worried she might go slice someone else, but thankfully, it didn¡¯t happen), while Setsuna, on the other hand, did get something¡ªacross the backside.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Still, I didn¡¯t demand that the video be deleted. Maybe I¡¯ll laugh at it myself someday...

    Returning to running and the reasons for it¡ªsince these two didn¡¯t get along, but had managed to develop some sort of competition for my attention¡ªHimiko would wait for me by my room in the morning, and Setsuna, taking advantage of her Quirk, would shamelessly try to fly in through my window (of course, I wouldn¡¯t open it and would draw the curtains). I gave up again and started jumping out the window.

    The height was about fifteen meters.

    For me, at the moment, that was pretty high, especially since it was still dark outside.

    But I got lucky with the architecture of the building: there was a wide ledge running above the first floor, which made the height more manageable for my makeshift flight abilities. Plus, the building was surrounded by thick, leafy branches of tall, sturdy trees, so if anything happened, I wasn¡¯t at much risk¡ªRecovery Girl would have patched me up no matter what.

    However, nothing happened, and little by little, I got used to this method of descending, improving my control over the braking impulses. And that was important¡ªI had big plans for this way of moving around...

    After running, I returned to the dorm like a normal person, showered, and then headed to class with the rest of my classmates. The school uniform still annoyed me, but there wasn¡¯t much I could do about that¡ªif even Himiko, who tried to transform into me at every opportunity, didn¡¯t risk damaging her blouse and skirt and wore them properly every day, then I really had no right to complain.

    The schedule was incredibly diverse¡ªevery day we had the same subjects! There was an upside, though¡ªphysical training was also daily. Classes lasted fifty minutes, with a ten minute break¡ªpretty standard. There were seven lessons per day, plus an hour for lunch. Classes started at eight forty AM and ended at four PM.

    We also had a short but mandatory morning meeting with Aizawa, where we spent ten minutes listening to our homeroom teacher snore in his sleeping bag.

    And yes, we had classes on Saturdays.

    Interestingly, students of the Hero Course left school last; we had one more lesson than the others. I can¡¯t say I felt exhausted by the end of the day, but it was clear that no one was taking it easy on us¡ªwe were being taught in earnest. And that was good.

    At first glance, our list of subjects looked completely ordinary: English, modern literature, modern art, history, mathematics, physics, and physical education. Along with hero training basics, both theory and practice, which sounded a bit less mundane. Practical classes happened a couple of times a week.

    This was the list known to the general public outside U.A., printed in those brochures from Aizawa and posted on the Academy¡¯s website.

    But why would real, professional heroes¡ªhere it¡¯s worth noting that all our teachers were indeed professional heroes, at least at some point in their careers¡ªteach these basic school subjects?

    "There¡¯s no reason," a smart Niren person would answer, and they¡¯d be right.

    Most of the students didn¡¯t realize this until the third or fourth day, but Yui, Setsuna, and I suspected it from the start and were just waiting for confirmation: each hero had their "official" subject and their "unofficial" subject, which they taught simultaneously. And it was the second one that was important to us as heroes.

    Why exactly the Academy and its fluffy carpe¡­¡ªer, principal¡ªchose this model of education was never explained to us. My guess was that since hero schools actively compete with each other, U.A., being a private institution, hides a significant part of its curriculum. They can afford to, given their reputation¡ªafter all, even All Might had been a student here.

    How did the dual nature of subjects manifest itself?

    Take Cementoss, for example. Reminiscent of a living concrete block with his rectangular, straightforward approach, Cementoss was, nonetheless, a literature teacher. Officially.

    Unofficially, he was a teacher of basic superhero and professional ethics. He constantly gave us examples of the moral dilemmas that heroes face during their work and offered the most appropriate solutions. Sometimes, he even asked us to come up with our own. A really great guy, actually¡ªI liked him a lot. Ken Ishiyama, that¡¯s his name, encouraged us to think for ourselves.

    Ectoplasm, who invited me to the Academy, was the math teacher here. Officially. Ha! Three times over!

    In reality, he provided us with the basics of tactical interaction in small combat groups. He also taught us the fundamentals of ballistic calculations, helping us plot trajectories and angles. He even touched on probability theory once¡ªin the context of disarming bombs! Even I was a bit taken aback by that. All the problems, all the examples, all the equations, and every single assignment were highly specialized and practical, focusing entirely on our future careers and the challenges we would face.

    Incidentally, Ectoplasm was no stranger to these challenges¡ªwhile he didn¡¯t reach All Might¡¯s level, as a hero, he had once been in the country¡¯s top ten. That was before he retired, having lost both legs. I knew for sure that, in his prime, aside from creating dozens of his own clones for small combat groups, he could merge them into a single giant version of himself, with destructive power on par with Mirko or Annihilation.

    Finally, Midnight was listed among the faculty as an art teacher.

    At the same time, she taught us the basics of presenting ourselves to the public, showing us the right and wrong ways to design a costume, including functionality, color schemes, good and bad associations, and demonstrating ways to launch fan merchandise, create our heroic persona, and develop a unique style that would become our trademark¡­

    Crazy stuff.

    By the way, we addressed the teachers by their hero names, no exceptions. The only one we called Aizawa-sensei was Eraserhead, but that seemed to be a privilege reserved exclusively for homeroom teachers.

    As for Midnight, we had an absolutely fantastic (not) relationship. This sultry woman in her thirties, upon seeing me in class, immediately tried to charm and seduce the poor Niren Shoda¡ªthere was no other way to explain the vulgar poses and suggestive bends right next to my desk, showing off her ample chest.

    But I wasn¡¯t impressed. Not after five minutes. Not after ten either. Even when she switched to the "strict teacher in glasses" look straight out of adult videos, calling me to the board and smacking the poor chalkboard pointer with her whip, it had no effect. I just answered what she asked and then continued to stare, pretending to be clueless.

    By that point, most of the students were red as boiled crayfish, and you could immediately tell who had unlimited internet access without parental controls. Midoriya was steaming and choking, Ochaco was fainting from embarrassment, Tenya was frantically wiping his perpetually foggy glasses, Yui was sitting pink-faced, lips pressed together¡­ even Himiko had blushed, clenched her fists, and didn¡¯t know where to look.

    Only three others besides me¡ªeternally angry Bakugo, perpetually aloof Todoroki, and quietly snoring Kyotaka at the back¡ªmaintained control over their hormonal balance. Though, Todoroki might have blushed too; it was hard to tell under his pigment spot.

    Midnight started getting angry.

    Apparently, students usually fall for her "charms."

    The situation reached its peak when Nemuri Kayama, clearly displeased with my indifferent attitude toward her beauty¡ªand I, for one, can¡¯t stand being pressured or manipulated, and for another, I did genuinely feel indifferent toward her subject, knowing the future and understanding that most likely, all these wonderful things wouldn¡¯t matter a year from now¡ªapproached me closely, grabbing at the sleeve of her costume.

    I, being fully aware of her abilities and also a naturally nervous person with delicate mental organization, reacted purely on instinct.

    The thing is, Midnight¡¯s Quirk is the scent of her body, akin to extremely powerful pheromones. Not aphrodisiacs, though, but rather with a strong sedative effect, especially on men. To put it simply, if someone inhales the air near her exposed skin, they pass out immediately.

    In the past, this peculiar beauty¡ªwho, by the way, was a U.A. graduate¡ªwore an Eve-like costume as a hero, practically running around the streets almost naked. But when she became a teacher, they "reined in" the free-spirited horse, so the maturing boys wouldn¡¯t burst right in class. As a result, her ability weakened, which was lucky for me¡ªI doubt I would¡¯ve had time to react if she had activated it without delay.

    Anyway, I fell for her signature move¡ªtugging at the edge of her costume, ripping off the specially designed, easy-to-tear bodysuit¡ªand simply pinched my nose with my fingers, as if I were hiding from an unpleasant smell.

    That caused half of the students, along with Nemuri herself, to freeze up.

    I had to make a hasty retreat from class (luckily, the bell rang right at that moment), stifling laughter and shaking a finger at the giggling Setsuna, on whom Midnight¡¯s feminine charms rolled off like water off a duck¡¯s back.

    Physics was taught by a hero unknown to me named Loader¡ªa red-haired, anorexic-looking guy who moved around in an exoskeleton even inside the Academy. It turned out he was also in charge of the Development Studio for the entire Hero Support Department and was an incredibly talented engineer responsible for the robots in the entrance exam. For some reason, I got the feeling that the skinny guy didn¡¯t like me, but all it took was a wide, sincere smile for me to realize it wasn¡¯t just a feeling.

    What can I say?

    "¡¥\_(¥Ä)_/¡¥," I thought to myself, and let it go. As long as he doesn¡¯t screw up my support gear and costume, I¡¯ll be satisfied.

    Hero Theory was taught by Snipe¡ªdespite his nickname, he looked more like a typical cowboy, only with a respirator. I hadn¡¯t seen his face, but judging by his voice and demeanor, he was pretty young.

    He taught us a bit of everything: how to save people, how to make stretchers from improvised materials, how to move injured people if there¡¯s suspicion of head trauma, spinal injuries, or internal bleeding; how to provide first aid, how and where to check for a pulse, how to apply a tourniquet (Himiko licked her lips), how to disinfect and bandage wounds; what to do in case of burns, what to do during a fire, how to avoid carbon monoxide poisoning; what to do in a flood, how to resuscitate a drowning person, how to swim while keeping an unconscious person afloat; how to retreat in a fight, how to avoid getting caught in a trap, and how to plan escape routes in advance¡­

    A lot. But some of it was interesting. And at times even useful.

    Physical education was taught by a two-meter-tall, shaggy man nicknamed Hound Dog. He didn¡¯t like me either. But at least he said so right off the bat: apparently, I hadn¡¯t followed protocol during the entrance exam when I ran from one mock city to another, and as the head of disciplinary work, he didn¡¯t like people like that.

    "Don¡¯t think that what you did was right! You had other tasks, you could have seriously injured yourself, and it¡¯s our job as teachers to ensure your safety!" he growled. Literally¡ªReo Inui had a dog¡¯s muzzle instead of a mouth. How could someone like that be anyone¡¯s educator? I couldn¡¯t understand.

    Anyway, I promised him I wouldn¡¯t do it again¡­ unless circumstances forced me to.

    He growled some more, then unexpectedly praised me for "saving" Yui and for standing my ground. Unpredictable guy.

    ***

    A couple of days after classes started, I "very conveniently noticed" Midoriya¡¯s notebook with his hero notes and suggested we exchange notebooks like that. Izuku got excited, thought about it, nodded, and the next day brought out about fifteen thick notebooks. I nodded too, didn¡¯t think about it¡ªno need¡ªand brought out just as many, and then some more. Midoriya grabbed all my notes and immediately got lost in them, transported to some world inaccessible to others. I also flipped through his chronicles with interest and, funnily enough, found several new and useful facts for myself.

    Meanwhile, the rest of the class, blown away by the two of us, officially dubbed Izuku Midoriya and Niren Shoda a pair of nerds, prompting identical snorts from Katsuki Bakugo and Yui Kodai.

    It was also interesting to watch the interactions between Midoriya, Toga, and the girls. As I understand it, in the original timeline, even by the time All Might lost his powers, the guy hadn¡¯t been spoiled by female attention, his only possible romantic connection being a dull, fluffy, and nearly platonic relationship with Ochaco.

    However, in this reality, we sat next to each other, talked all the time, and since the girls gravitated around me¡ªthey also gravitated around Midoriya.

    And, oh my god, you wouldn¡¯t believe HOW MUCH good it did him!

    In literally a week, the guy stopped blushing, shaking, and stumbling over every word: first just in general, then in the presence of girls, then when speaking to the girls, and finally¡ªeven around Himiko! If only his gaze would stop drifting to Setsuna¡¯s chest every time¡­ oh well, time heals. And Tokage maims, heh-heh. I think once they spar, the next time she gets close, the guy will probably just turn pale and brace for a block.

    ¡­ I think it would be silly to deny that all three of the girls now hanging around me were quite attractive, each in her own way¡­

    After that semi-naked and rather intimate, albeit not in the conventional sense, performance from Himiko in my room, I seemed to have¡­ woken up.

    And for the first time, I took a fresh look at the girls around me.

    I realized, to my surprise, that both "Snow Queen" Yui Kodai and the whirlwind of positivity that was Setsuna Tokage were not the young girls I had seen as pupils to mentor, but fully developed, very attractive young women who genuinely enjoyed my company.

    I realized, with amused wonder, that my neighbors on the floor were the incredibly striking, shy raven-black Momo and the predatory blonde Himiko, who seemed like someone¡¯s fantasies come to life.

    And suddenly, it hit me that here, at U.A., I was surrounded by dozens of other beautiful women. Genuinely beautiful¡ªboth in face and in toned physique¡ªsome of whom occasionally gave me interested looks¡­

    Toga, for instance. Oh yeah, it¡¯s dinner time¡­

    In short, whether it was an adrenaline rush on that first day of school, or sheer surprise, or maybe those notorious hormones finally kicking in, or just the closeness with a beautiful and nearly naked girl playing a role¡­ I don¡¯t know what exactly triggered this shift in my perception¡ªbut I wasn¡¯t particularly pleased with it.

    In about a month, maybe even less, my "D-Day" was coming¡ªthe moment I¡¯d been preparing for over the course of fifteen damn years¡­ and I couldn¡¯t afford distractions right now.

    Definitely not now.

    Speaking of which.

    "Do you think it¡¯s time?" I asked my reflection in the dark, having woken up for my morning run even earlier than usual on Saturday.

    I had something to do, something that would take time¡­ and a shovel. I had to finish before classes started, and especially before our first hero training session with All Might.

    "Yeah, I think it¡¯s time."

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    The dormitory is just as chaotic as always :)

    Here¡¯s a layout of who lives where in the building as of Chapter Twelve.

    <u>Author¡¯s Note:</u>

    No Quirk awakening, I trolled you all ;)

    And yeah, I officially can''t handle daily uploads anymore. The next public chapter will be up this Saturday.

    Thank you for your support anyway.

 Episode 12. Part II.

    The students of U.A. had free access to the city, of course. So, I had already scouted a nearby agricultural supply store and bought a shovel, a bucket, and work gloves.

    My "stash" was also long prepared.

    The more challenging part was choosing the right spot to bury this "stash." It had to be not too far, but not too close, not too obvious so that it wouldn''t be found prematurely, but also not too hidden, so the whole plan wouldn''t be wasted.

    I thought about it for a long time and eventually chose our sports field, right at the edge under a cheerful blue net. It was literally beneath the windows of the Academy, but it was still dark, and I hoped I could finish before any students showed up.

    As for the fear of being noticed... oh, I knew I would be. But not by the students, by the teachers. There were cameras everywhere, robots constantly roaming and cleaning, and surely Hound Dog was watching all of us. But I couldn''t do anything about that. I could only hope that Dog wouldn''t sniff out non-existent explosives or drugs, and neither he nor anyone else would bother to dig.

    The location of my digging, in itself, suggested there was nothing suspicious going on, and there was no campus rule against digging on the sports field¡ªI checked! The main thing was to do it far enough from the center and deep enough that someone like Bakugo wouldn¡¯t ruin my work with his own explosion.

    And thanks to the convenient location, I could check every day to make sure no one messed with it before the time came.

    However, if the "stash" did get unearthed prematurely, no one would understand what it was about, and I wouldn¡¯t get in trouble¡ªmight even get praised.

    In any case, good job, brain. I¡¯ll buy you a hat.

    It even made me wonder: has any other student ever done something like this before? Aizawa, maybe¡­ but I had more opportunities.

    After burying my small load and smoothing out the ground as best I could, I headed back to the dorm, sweaty but satisfied, throwing the shovel over my shoulder, covered in dirt, dust, and bathed in the pompous rays of the rising sun.

    A yawning and disheveled Setsuna, heading to the bathroom, hiccupped.

    ¡°Are you a gardener now?¡±

    I grinned.

    ¡°You haven''t seen the other guy.¡±

    ¡°Is there someone else crazy enough to... wait. Shovel. Niren, did you bury someone? Niren!¡±

    I silently smiled and walked past.

    Setsuna froze in the hallway, wringing her hands, torn between looking at me and the bathroom door in agony.

    ¡°Niren, Niren, tell me you¡¯re joking! I can¡¯t run after you and go to the bathroom at the same time! I¡¯m going to burst, either from curiosity or...¡±

    ¡°Actually, you can,¡± I yawned, opening my room door.

    ¡°Oh, right¡­¡±

    ***

    Morning positivity¡ªit all worked out, all according to plan so far! I would have loved to start the day with some fun fistfights or obstacle courses to let loose.

    But alas, our first lesson with All Might was scheduled for one o¡¯clock, after lunch. However, it would take up the last three periods, so mentally I was already rubbing my hands together, eager to get my hands on my costume.

    Not being born with either engineering or artistic talent, I had developed an even more valuable trait¡ªmethodicalness. So, before scribbling out my own armor sketches and designs, I studied plenty of existing options from the catalog my parents gave me as a gift. I also spent a lot of time reviewing successful and not-so-successful design solutions on the internet, and even more time brainstorming ways to enhance my abilities.

    For a while, I toyed with the idea of a mechanical glove, like an exoskeleton arm, which could, theoretically, allow me to amplify my marker if I applied it to the inside of a reinforced frame¡­ or if it flipped open like a pocket mirror¡­ but I had to abandon such convoluted ideas.

    Even if I managed to invent something workable, I couldn''t bring it to life on my own. And implementing such a glove using U.A.''s production base without revealing my powers wasn''t feasible.

    Maybe in the future, when I fully reveal my abilities, I¡¯ll ask for some help¡­

    But I had to live until then.

    Just like I had to live until the practice with All Might. When will this class finally end?!

    I wasn¡¯t alone in my suffering; nearly everyone was eagerly anticipating the practical lesson, chatting excitedly or glancing at the clock in frustration. ¡°I think this is the first time I¡¯ve felt such unity with my classmates,¡± I thought, exchanging glances with a fidgeting Setsuna, who was practically bouncing with impatience during breaks.

    Thankfully, our agony couldn¡¯t last forever¡ªthe fourth period passed, and we eagerly headed for lunch.

    Of course, there were fights ahead, and anyone with basic life experience would confirm that eating before a fight isn¡¯t the best idea.

    However, I figured that while I wouldn¡¯t stuff myself, I should eat something. By the time we reached the Training Ground Beta¡ªthe same place where I took half of my entrance exam (turns out it''s called not ¡°B,¡± but ¡°Beta¡±)¡ªchanged into our costumes, got divided into groups, and waited for our turns¡­

    Food takes about two hours to break down in the stomach before moving to the intestines, where it¡¯s further processed and distributed throughout the body by our efficient digestive system. So, a salad and a bowl of light (and spicy¡ªI love spicy) curry would have plenty of time to digest. Plus, I¡¯d need the energy reserves to deal with any overconfident classmates.

    Besides, the schedule wasn¡¯t made by fools, after all.

    In general, lunch in the cafeteria was a joy for everyone. The cafeteria itself was huge, decorated with some kind of Chinese-inspired motifs, with plenty of food displays (buffet style, familiar to any tourist) and long tables seating ten people each. The food was delicious and quite refined, and on top of that, very affordable.

    Interestingly enough, the chef wasn¡¯t just anyone but another pro hero... though in the case of Lunch Rush, it was more of a fun fact than a real advantage. He had no useful combat abilities and no battle experience to speak of. With a Quirk that let him cook faster, he wasn¡¯t exactly cut out for fighting.

    I shuddered at the thought of being born with such a power. I would¡¯ve found a way to fight even in that case, but still...

    That being said, Lunch Rush was a stand-up guy. He built his career helping the hungry in Third World countries and people affected by natural disasters like typhoons and earthquakes. And yeah, he cooked great. And cheap¡ªwhat better gift for a student than cheap, hearty, delicious food in the cafeteria?

    Unfortunately, cheap didn¡¯t mean free.

    Toga had no money. At all.

    She hadn¡¯t been in touch with her parents since enrolling.

    Her parents, until recently, were convinced that the course of shock therapy she underwent in her last year of middle school had ¡°fixed¡± her, making her sweet and obedient after the treatment.

    When Toga told me this and I confirmed it through indirect signs in conversations with her father, my former sensei, I had to suppress the rising dark anger, which had no one to be directed at. It was too late.

    If only I¡¯d met her back when I was training at his dojo...

    But you can¡¯t change the past.

    It¡¯s not that she genuinely hated her parents. She treated them more like distant relatives. Dead ones. Absolute indifference. I never found out whether she forgot to ask for pocket money, they forgot to give it, or they were just too happy to be rid of her.

    When I asked how she planned to live and what she was eating, Himiko gave me a wide smile and said a kind Samaritan had treated her to the most delicious treat a couple of times.

    Which meant I had shared my blood with her.

    In other words, she had been starving for two days.

    Sighing, I bought lunch for myself¡ªand for her.

    And so it became a habit since that Tuesday. Toga didn¡¯t seem to mind at all, didn¡¯t even participate in choosing the food, and showed no signs of wanting to change things.

    I was fine with it too. For one, I was just more at ease when she was right here, next to me, or tucked under my arm (she couldn¡¯t reach higher) in line¡ªif she was here, she wasn¡¯t off stabbing Momo behind a corner.

    And secondly, I¡¯ve mentioned that I always had enough money. I spent little on myself, only on useful things, while my parents, seeing my responsible approach (otherwise known as ¡°antisocial behavior¡± and ¡°not giving a damn¡±), happily deposited more into my account. In other words, Lebowski had the money, that''s it.

    As a result, Himiko became my dependent. Considering she tried to sneak into my room every night, bit me, and wore my T-shirts, I was almost married.

    Jokes aside, though, I had a feeling that my seemingly altruistic actions had... shifted Toga¡¯s worldview a bit. I had undermined her belief in the universal cynicism and selfishness she had been nurturing. And by doing so, I had taken away the foundation that held her up.

    Because of that, she had become intensely focused on the two remaining pillars of her world: me... and the signals from her Quirk. Which meant¡ªblood.

    Blood wasn¡¯t fuel or food for her, as one might think. No, it was much worse. For Himiko, blood was literally a drug. Not just the taste, even the smell, even the sight of it intoxicated her, clouded her mind, made her do anything for another dose. I even suspected there was some kind of mild withdrawal syndrome.

    Since the day I decided to help her, we often talked. Not heart-to-heart¡ªToga clearly wasn¡¯t the type to easily open up. On the contrary, she was a very complex and specific conversationalist. I think if I hadn¡¯t just gone through the hell of all the school classes, where I was forced to find common ground with little kids and impulsive teenagers, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to handle her.

    Smart overall, very emotional and sincere, while at the same time a brilliant actor and manipulator by nature, she remained naive in some areas and a brutal monster in others, with an absolute cynicism that even shook me.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡­ So I focused our conversations on what we had in common: how I grew up feeling different and alien, how I never connected with anyone because no one understood what it was like to prepare for something great and terrifying from a young age, denying yourself fun, social connections, day by day, year by year, pushing yourself for¡­ for what, Niren?

    What could I answer to that question?

    To save humanity? For a better future for civilization?

    If I said that, anyone, regardless of age, would just point to their head and twirl their finger. And they¡¯d probably be right.

    Maybe that¡¯s why I managed to connect with Himiko in the end. A fisherman sees another fisherman from afar... and a madman sees another madman. After all, only a complete nutjob believes he can rewrite the future and history by himself, right?

    In any case, little by little, day by day, I started to understand this girl. Cute. Creepy. Fun. Dead inside. Beautiful. Broken. Sick.

    And all those days, I wondered if I could trust her.

    On one hand, she was mentally unstable. A ¡°slightly¡± unhinged maniac.

    How could I expect her to be a stable ally in the future war, let alone act heroically, saving civilians and supporting her comrades?

    On the other hand, there wasn¡¯t a single instance in my notes on the series where she betrayed anyone. Though you¡¯d think she¡¯d be the perfect traitor.

    But I got the opposite impression: Himiko was a loyal and reliable friend to that villainous organization. What was it called again? The Villain Guard? The Order? The League? Doesn¡¯t matter.

    On the third hand, she was a genius actress, I told you. Yes, she hadn¡¯t used that skill once all week, but I knew she had it. And what does that mean?

    That¡¯s right: even if she seemed to be my friend, even if she got a grip and stopped being a danger to others, there would always be the chance that she was just pretending.

    On the fourth hand¡­

    At that moment, I sighed, put down my textbook, and closed my eyes, massaging my eyelids.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what¡¯s on what hand, Niren. What matters is what you think. What does your heart feel, Niren Shoda? The guy who tries to do the right thing? The guy who wants to be a hero... without fully understanding what that means...¡± I asked myself that night.

    And my heart, drowning in the drama of the moment, told me that Toga Himiko was even more of a victim of society than Midoriya.

    She needed saving.

    She needed treatment... and maybe, just maybe, she¡¯d save someone herself in the future.

    And maybe then, I could trust her.

    So, another day later, gritting my teeth, I went to Principal Nezu¡ªbracing myself for another hit to my self-esteem. But doing the right thing seemed more important, so I asked the Great Mouse to sanction a course of psychotherapy for Toga Himiko, whose Quirk was negatively affecting her thinking. Which, in turn, was negatively affecting the safety of those around her.

    Of course, not having any qualifications or even basic knowledge about how to treat mental disorders caused by suppressing one¡¯s Quirk, I didn¡¯t dare suggest what or how to treat, leaving it all to the psychologist. Or psychotherapist?

    But I had no doubt that Himiko needed professional medical help.

    I expected another long debate, but Nezu, after listening to me, closed his eyes for a few seconds, smiled, and said, ¡°Alright.¡±

    After that, Himiko was invited for a conversation with the Academy¡¯s in-house psychologist¡ªI hadn¡¯t seen him myself, and I wasn¡¯t present at the session¡ªafter which, the next day, Thursday, a gloomy Toga shoved her prescribed pills under my nose. Something with lithium.

    I praised her, handed her a syringe of blood, and casually inquired about the safety of the brave doctor who dared spend half an hour with Himiko in a closed room.

    Swallowing the pill with the blood, the girl¡¯s cheeks turned pink, and she started telling me excitedly that she had a ¡°boy she liked.¡± She liked him so much that she was ready to start dating him! So much that she was even willing to swallow those nasty, bitter pills!

    And believe it or not, that poor guy and I had a lot in common!

    ***

    Back in the present, during lunch that Saturday, Toga sat sour and grumpy, staring at her fish without touching it. By the way, the fish I had bought for her.

    ¡°If you¡¯re not going to eat it, I¡¯ll gladly¡­¡± but I didn¡¯t get to finish.

    ¡°Oh, fish! Fiiiish. Free fish!¡± Setsuna jumped in, the kind of person who loves having a good time and especially loves to eat.

    *poke*

    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s with the fork? You¡¯re crazy!¡± Tokage yelped, shaking her injured hand, causing the other students to glance over.

    With an unreadable expression, Himiko licked the fork, causing a collective ¡°ewww¡± from most of the table, sighed softly, and angrily started eating her salmon, puffing out her cheeks like a child.

    And we weren¡¯t alone at the table: by the end of the week, a real group had formed around our ¡°core¡± trio of me, Setsuna, and Yui¡ªHimiko, Mina, Izuku, and Momo.

    Setsuna had quickly bonded with Mina¡ªthey were like two peas in a pod, both bubbly and mischievous. As a result, Mina fit into our group effortlessly, showing no reverence to me or Toga, which I appreciated.

    Yui got along well with her ¡°sister¡± Yaoyorozu, and Momo often sat with us, though she was still clearly wary of Toga (Himiko, in turn, paid less attention to her than to a piece of furniture. Actually, even less that that, since she regularly snooped through my nightstand). Nevertheless, with my encouragement, the fanged blonde reluctantly apologized to Momo, who gave me a grateful look, and the overall atmosphere lightened up.

    Unfortunately, I still didn¡¯t sense any backbone in Momo. It wasn¡¯t just that she didn¡¯t feel like a warrior, I couldn¡¯t feel any willpower in her. An elite houseplant transplanted into a public garden, and the moment the first mischievous child plucked a leaf, the plant withered.

    What a shame. A Quirk like hers, in more active, more combative hands...

    However, in the original story, she was on the front lines, right alongside the others. And if we¡¯re talking about support roles, she¡¯d probably be much more useful in that regard.

    Maybe I shouldn¡¯t interfere at all. Things might sort themselves out on their own.

    As for me, even without planning it, I¡¯d gotten pretty close with Midoriya. We even ate together regularly. We often had things to discuss¡ªafter exchanging notebooks, we constantly talked about different heroes, the pros and cons of various Quirks, and so on. Yui would sometimes join us, asking questions here and there. Midoriya had completely stopped treating me like a senior and would sometimes even argue with me in raised tones, only to get flustered afterward.

    Himiko, of course, was always tagging along like a shadow, sometimes sullenly bickering with Setsuna and other times lazily spooking Midoriya. It seemed like she enjoyed interacting with people like this. No masks, no pretending.

    Whenever Toga crossed a line, I¡¯d gently rein her in, trying to explain why. The green-haired boy, meanwhile, observed our duo with curiosity, managing to hold his ground and even occasionally attempting to argue with Himiko, though he quickly got nervous and faltered as he spoke.

    Still, for just one week of school, his progress was impressive.

    I even stumbled in my thoughts when an idea came to me¡ªa hypothesis, a possible explanation: if his Quirk, One for All, accumulates the physical strength of its user and passes it on to the next, is it possible that the accumulation isn¡¯t limited to just strength? Obviously, All Might was faster, tougher, healthier, and probably smarter than any normal person, so the accumulation of all these traits was almost a proven fact.

    However, could it also be that the Quirk accumulates psychological resilience? Personality traits? Willpower?

    If so, that would explain a lot.

    Meanwhile, a grumbling Setsuna made a grab for my food, failed, spilled Mina¡¯s tea, got a smack on the head, knocked Midoriya¡¯s curry bowl out of his hands, prompting a shriek of ¡°Sorry, Lunch Rush-san! Sorry! I¡¯ll clean it up!¡± and, in an attempt to escape my well-deserved flick of justice, hid behind Yui, who was calmly and meticulously eating her salad.

    ¡°Can I poke her with a fork again?¡± Himiko mumbled questioningly.

    ¡°Just imagine this fish is Setsuna and poke the fish,¡± I suggested.

    ¡°Heh¡­ heh-heh-heh¡­¡±

    ¡°Mama¡­¡± Setsuna whined playfully. ¡°I¡¯m scared of her, Niren! You¡¯ll protect me, right? Right?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I smiled kindly. ¡°Right after I give you a flick.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re eeevil¡­.¡±

    ***

    After lunch, we eagerly piled back into the classroom. I lazily wondered where exactly our costumes were. On one hand, they should be easily accessible, but on the other, there had to be some kind of safety measure so none of us could grab them on our own. Hmm¡­

    And then¡­

    A growing noise echoed through the hallway, one that every single person in our society could recognize... was that¡­?!

    Midoriya reacted instantly, smiling and turning toward the doorway.

    ¡°I¡­ enter the room like a normal person!¡±

    In stepped a towering, over two-meter-tall, heavily muscled blonde in a red hero suit with a cape. In addition to his square jaw¡ªone that would do any Western movie actor proud¡ªhis face featured a constant broad smile that instilled confidence in anyone, and his head sported a distinctive ¡°bunny ear¡± hairstyle with two strands gelled upright in a vertical position.

    Setsuna and I burst out laughing at his line, slightly ruining the moment.

    But still, how cool is he?! A human mountain. An icon, a legend, a true Superman without any nonsense like laser eyes or kryptonite¡­ and he¡¯s still capable of self-irony! Even if it¡¯s a bit cringey, it¡¯s still¡­

    Our classmates buzzed with excitement, thrilled that All Might was really our teacher, discussing his costume¡ªone of his older outfits.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get straight to it! Here¡¯s what we¡¯re doing today!¡± our elite ¡°MC¡± energetically revved up the crowd. ¡°Combat training!¡±

    Izuku swallowed loudly, but I smirked in anticipation.

    ¡°And for that, we¡¯ll need these!¡± All Might exclaimed, dramatically gesturing toward the wall next to the blackboard, where there were four vertical lines. Really?

    Turns out, yes: each of the lines slid out from the wall, revealing something like shelves with five numbered steel cases on each. My gaze instantly locked onto the one with the green number nineteen.

    ¡°Once you¡¯re suited up, I¡¯ll see you all at Training Ground Beta!¡±

    ***

    All Might understood that we¡¯d need plenty of time to play around and admire our costumes, so he generously gave us a full half hour to change and marvel at our reflections.

    When the bus dropped us off at the same, familiar large changing room, we all wandered off separately. I think at that moment, each of us wanted a few meters of personal space to be alone with our suit.

    It felt like a kid finding a gift wrapped in shiny paper under the Christmas tree¡ªa sense of celebration, anticipation, hope¡­

    Opening the case, I stared wide-eyed at my beauty.

    The suit¡ªor rather, the armor¡ªwas dark gray. I decided that dark gray, the color of wet asphalt, would be the most practical choice: least noticeable in an urban environment and easy to keep clean. I arrogantly dismissed the flashy black option. Yeah, there¡¯s a common misconception about black being inconspicuous¡ªbut no, solid black is quite visible, even in twilight. The color of graphite, granite, or raw iron even sounds cooler! And again, Pratchett wrote about it, and the Master wouldn¡¯t lie.

    The first thing I did was start feeling and inspecting the sides of the suit, under the arms, and at the elbows. Did they do everything? Did it all work? Please tell me it did¡­

    Success! Grinning broadly, I continued examining it.

    On the arms¡ªreinforced bracers, additional wrist support, and gloves that looked more like knuckle dusters. On the deltoids¡ªflexible pauldrons with padding for absorbing impact during rolls. On the legs¡ªstrong, elastic boots that went above the knee, with a sturdy yet ergonomic sole and massive toes¡ªwhich, theoretically, would allow me to throw kicks and use second-level enhanced running without fear of injury. For the face¡ªa sleek half-mask respirator that also protected my jaw.

    When I pressed a special switch button, a transparent visor slid up, giving me wind protection for running or jumping. Another button pressed, and a segmented helmet unfolded from the back of my head to my forehead, complete with padding inside. Gods, they even made that¡­ Under the mask ran a rigid collar protecting my throat.

    Each part of the armor securely fastened in place and attached to the others, maintaining a smooth and seamless surface. Along the surface ran two symmetrical lines, about a finger¡¯s width, barely visible on the matte finish, which perfectly aligned when the suit¡¯s pieces connected.

    I hadn¡¯t requested the lines, but I was pleased: the suit felt like a puzzle, an elegant enigma for the chosen few, which I had put together correctly. A riddle just for me¡­

    It¡¯s worth noting that in my armor request, I specifically asked them to avoid using any electric mechanisms in the design to prevent electrokinetic opponents from weaponizing the suit or someone like Denki from tracking me through an electric charge. So even the mask had to be entirely mechanical, using gears and springs or something like that.

    As I donned the armor and clicked the clasps on each piece, I increasingly felt the urge to throw myself into a fight and test all of this brilliance.

    Finally, fully suited up, I turned to the mirror. The reflection was¡­ intimidating. And slightly alien. A tall, dark figure in a half-mask with light-blue hair¡ªI looked like some harbinger of a technologically advanced Mordor or something.

    I pressed the second button on the mask, and the helmet unfolded, hiding my distinctive hair under the matte surface. I was a futuristic ninja!

    Awesome! Just what I needed!..

    Wait, what¡¯s this?..

    Once I had fully suited up, the barely visible lines on my practical, inconspicuous armor blinked and began to glow with a bright blue light. Clearly electric in nature.

    The LED lights embedded in the suit didn¡¯t stop glowing, completely ruining the camouflage and turning my sleek, armored costume into a cheap knockoff.

    ¡°¡­¡±

    The futuristic ninja figure in the mirror facepalmed.

    <u>Author¡¯s Note:</u>

    ¡°Something with lithium¡±:

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lithium_(medication) (especially carbonate)

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    So, did you ask for Niren Shoda¡¯s costume and appearance? Here you go :)

    Lithium tastes terrible!

    The yandere isn¡¯t particularly pleased with her life right now :(

    The Principal decides their fates.

    The Principal decides not to troll this time. Let them lower their guard.

    Lunch Rush¡ªpro hero. Don¡¯t ask what the manga author was smoking or what this character is puffing on through that pipe. Seriously, don¡¯t ask!

    Canon!

    Or maybe even ''cannon'' in the case of someone ;)

    And yes: the element of desperate anticipation for the practice session was in the original canon, so I¡¯m not dragging out the book¡ªI¡¯m staying true to the original atmosphere :)

 Episode 12. Part III.

    "They say clothes make the man, young ladies and gentlemen," boomed All Might''s voice as we entered the Battle Center. "Get ready... from this moment on, you are Heroes!"

    We spread out at the entrance, waiting for the stragglers, and I started observing everyone. Being one of the first to arrive, I couldn¡¯t help but feel like a shepherd watching over my flock.

    Though, most of these ¡°sheep¡± would probably try to punch me in the face for calling them that¡­

    I smirked.

    ... and if they managed to, I¡¯d only be happier. Any motivation is good, as long as it makes you stronger!

    With interest, I eyed Iida¡¯s armor. He hadn¡¯t tried lecturing anyone in the past few days¡ªno one was listening to him anyway. His armor looked impressive, a fusion of knight armor and race car design. Was it functional? Probably not; more like cheap Transformer cosplay.

    Still, I¡¯d be curious to see how tough it is. At the very least, it was aerodynamic.

    I chuckled while looking at Kiyotaka¡¯s outfit. It was similar to mine but made of fabric¡ªcloth half-mask on his face, sleeveless arms, fingerless gloves, and a vest with multiple pockets on his chest. Everything was either black or dark blue. We ended up looking quite alike, though he was a head shorter and narrower in the shoulders.

    Honestly, with his silver hair, someone might confuse us¡­ if it weren¡¯t for the ridiculous electric lights strung across my suit! Definitely electric: I found the switch to turn them off!

    I spotted Izuku, blushing and stammering in response to Ochako, who was also blushing in her tight spandex suit.

    Am I the only one who thinks her outfit looks like a big pink... well, personal massager?

    I tried not to laugh and shifted my attention to Midoriya¡¯s green costume, which made him look like a grinning, scrawny pickled green rabbit.

    Or¡­ someone very familiar¡ªoh, how convenient, our teacher for today¡­

    All Might noticed the resemblance too and chuckled. He tried covering his face, but I¡¯m tall enough to see everything!

    It took even more effort not to burst out laughing at Bakugo¡¯s ridiculous outfit. Dude, I get that your grenade-shaped gauntlets probably serve some purpose, but what¡¯s with the black... hair clip? Bow? Pom-pom? Oh my god¡­ does your nickname have something to do with this?

    Speaking of which¡­

    Here¡¯s the funny thing: Midoriya, being Bakugo¡¯s one-sided childhood friend, always calls him "Kacchan." It¡¯s a nickname that comes from blending his first name¡ªKatsuki¡ªwith the honorific "-chan" that¡¯s often used for small children, regardless of gender. Hence, Kacchan.

    Now, remember that in Japanese, ¡°mom¡± is pronounced ¡°Haha¡± (Ä¸ or ¤Ï¤Ï). Funny, right? Hahaha.

    But the more respectful way to address a mother is ¡°Okaa-san¡± (¤ªÄ¸¤µ¤ó or ¤ª¤«¤¢¤µ¤ó). You¡¯d use this at a formal dinner or when addressing someone else¡¯s mother. Especially when you totally blank on her last name, lol.

    But little kids don¡¯t grasp such nuances and often just shorten words and add the honorific "-chan." So what do you get?

    Kaa-chan. "Mommy."

    Now picture this: Midoriya calling out to a growling, explosive Katsuki with a nickname that sounds suspiciously close to "Mommy."

    I couldn¡¯t help but grin wider, and quickly turned away before Katsuki learned how to make people explode with just a look.

    Sure, the words "Kaachan" and "Kacchan" sound a bit different and are written differently in Roman letters, but¡­

    But to an outsider¡ªlike me, for example¡ªit¡¯s really easy to confuse the two. And that¡¯s hilarious.

    Noted. I¡¯ll definitely use that mix-up one day.

    Anyway, "Mommy" here probably needs a good reality check soon. It¡¯d be better if he sorted things out with Izuku sooner rather than a year from now. Sure, respect isn¡¯t earned in a day, but maybe with my help, he¡¯ll figure it out quicker¡ªand finally let go of one of those heavy anchors dragging him down.

    As far as I remember, their slow-burning, occasionally explosive conflict lasted until¡­ well, until that part of the canon I managed to watch. And it only cooled down when they went on some practice mission¡­ uh, where did they go again? And with whom?..

    I sighed and glanced up at the blue sky.

    Sometimes I felt like my blue hair wasn¡¯t just a coincidence. Like it was a hint¡­ that my Quirk was meant for something more than just running or fighting.

    Maybe one day I could fly¡­

    What is flight, after all? Denying the lowly dependence on the ground, the need for a foothold, moving in any direction¡­

    Flight is, above all, freedom.

    Maybe if I want to be free, it¡¯s time to let go of the self-imposed rules and restrictions?

    I lowered my gaze back to my classmates¡ªpeople I knew from old, faded notes¡­ yet were complete strangers, new faces.

    Perhaps it¡¯s time to stop worrying about following the canon. And stop trying to adhere to it. At best, I could use what little knowledge remains, the knowledge that brought me to U.A. in the first place. After all, in a few months, after the USJ incident, everything will change anyway¡­ one way or another.

    Sure, it was comforting to feel like the story was on rails, but¡­ elaborate plans and strategies tend to crumble at the smallest changes. And I¡¯m not even good at them. I wasn¡¯t even one hundred percent sure if this world was exactly like the one I saw in, Kami-sama forgive me, a kids¡¯ cartoon.

    And how many changes had I personally introduced, with my own hands, feet, and other body parts? Too many to count! I brought Yui here, Setsuna too, Mashirao is in a different class, Toga¡¯s here and not a villain, at least not yet¡­ I¡¯m here, there¡¯s Kiyotaka¡­ Oh right, and four people didn¡¯t make it into Class A. One of them¡ªMineta¡ªdidn¡¯t even become a hero.

    For all I know, maybe Mineta was supposed to save Midoriya¡¯s life in a month or two when the villains attack. And without him, everyone¡¯s doomed? I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t remember.

    If I try to follow every thread of this tangled web of events and lives, I¡¯ll lose my mind. Or rather¡­ I¡¯ll go crazy sooner than expected.

    I guess, I just need to let it go. And relax.

    If you think about it, I¡¯ve already accomplished most of the goals I set for myself: I¡¯ve been in a fight and tested my powers, I got first place in the entrance exam and made it into Class A, I¡¯ve connected with Midoriya, and I¡¯ve brought the girls to U.A., increasing their chances of survival. Oh, and I buried my "treasure."

    Maybe I should celebrate somehow, throw a student party or something? Get drunk for the first time in this new life? Maybe even¡­ go on a date?

    I chuckled at my own thoughts. With whom? Toga, who¡¯d probably eat me?

    Or rather, eat me up.

    Speaking of ¡®minette¡¯¡­ or rather, Mineta. I found out after the fact that despite scoring twenty villain points and making clever use of his Quirk¡ªboth to immobilize robots by sticking them to walls and to block their guns¡ªMineta failed the practical exam. Not because of his score. He wasn¡¯t allowed into the Hero Course due to ungentlemanly behavior.

    In other words, when everything was calm, he distracted others with his Quirk, tossing his sticky balls around carelessly, and a few times tried to cling to other applicants like a stoned baby koala.

    And when the giant robot appeared, the grape-colored midget bolted in the opposite direction, panicking like a cornered animal, screeching all the while. He didn¡¯t even notice his bubbles sticking to other students, preventing them from running away.

    Yeah, he pushed Yui in the back, the jerk.

    Still, he was allowed to enroll in either the General Studies or Management faculties. He chose the latter. More girls there.

    Lately, my thoughts always seem to drift back to girls.

    Speaking of which¡­ it¡¯s like a fashion show in here!

    I raised an eyebrow, taking in Yaoyorozu¡¯s revealing swimsuit-like costume with something like an inflatable ring around her waist. I get that she needs open skin to use her Quirk¡­ and lots of it¡­ but what¡¯s the point of that neckline?

    Don¡¯t get me wrong, if she were someone else, Momo could probably distract opponents with her figure and womanly assets, like Midnight does. At least, that¡¯s what I would do if I were a woman.

    But she¡¯s¡­ a delicate flower. And the costume¡¯s impractical. Maybe the design wasn¡¯t hers, but recommended by the same people who recommended her as well? It¡¯d be better to leave her stomach exposed; that way, she¡¯d have more access, and it¡¯d be more modest.

    Who¡¯s next?

    I nodded approvingly at Setsuna, giving her a thumbs-up, and she blushed. Taking her organic, scale-like costume that complemented her Quirk, she added a mask similar to Kiyotaka¡¯s respirator, along with a hood, long wide sleeves, and a flaring skirt.

    Smart!

    Why? Because the sleeves and especially the skirt would hide the exact number of body parts she had at any given moment. If a few were missing, the enemy wouldn¡¯t even notice¡­ until it¡¯s too late and she knocks them out.

    I shifted my gaze to Yui¡¯s costume and¡­ wow.

    So that¡¯s what she¡¯s been working on¡­ I couldn¡¯t judge the practicality, but in terms of style, her costume outclassed all of ours¡ªeven mine.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Staying true to the ideals from her favorite books on medieval Japan, as well as her image over the last few years, Yui based her design on a samurai¡¯s armor. Silver rectangular protective plates on her shoulders and skirt beautifully complemented the white and frosty blue accents. The chest plate, which looked quite sturdy, accentuated her slim waist. The pattern of¡­ I smiled¡­ snowflakes repeated across the surface. Completing the look was a helmet that, with its large, wide "hat" and several upward-curving horns, looked more like a crown.

    Now that was a "Snow Queen."

    She leaned casually on an ornate metal staff, locking eyes with me and giving a small smile and wink.

    She must¡¯ve been waiting for me to notice, probably chose the perfect angle¡­ I smirked wider. Women¡ªthey¡¯re terrifying.

    Alright, where¡¯s my troublemaker? I looked around, but there was no sign of Himiko. Hmm...

    Before I could panic and start searching for bodies, Toga appeared from the darkness of the changing room, which, by the way, had another entrance directly into the Center.

    And when I saw her outfit¡­ I was genuinely taken aback.

    ¡°Hi¡­ Himiko,¡± I stammered indignantly, ¡°what is that?¡±

    ¡°Do you like it?!¡± She pressed her hands to her chest, spun around, and the short skirt flared up even higher. Somewhere nearby, Midoriya audibly sucked in his breath. ¡°I love it! Isn¡¯t it kawai?¡±

    ¡°Kawai, sure, not the word I¡¯d use¡­ but why do you look like a magical girl?..¡±

    ¡°Hey, hey, hey! I¡¯m not a magical girl; I¡¯m just a cute schoolgirl!¡±

    ¡°So¡­ a normal school uniform is your costume?¡±

    ¡°Not normal! I shortened the skirt, see?¡± ¡­ I refused to look. She pouted and continued, ¡°And I wanted them to give me a knife¡­ but they didn¡¯t give me a knife¡­ and I wanted some syringes¡ªy¡¯know, to draw blood¡ªbut they didn¡¯t give me those either¡­ Niren, can I bite you? I¡¯m hungry.¡±

    In response, I silently activated my helmet, sealing myself inside my armor from head to toe.

    Himiko started tapping on my armored shoulder with her fists.

    ¡°Just a little¡­ come on¡­ Niren-kun¡­¡±

    "Ahem," All Might finally snapped out of it, though everyone present had been listening in silence. "Almost everyone¡­ I mean, this is amazing! You all look fantastic!"

    ¡°Niren, do you heeear..?¡± ... she tugged at my sleeve.

    "... if you look at the statistics, most villain confrontations happen indoors, not¡­¡±

    ¡°I want some blood, Niren¡­ let me have a little bite¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­ the truly smart villains hide in the shadows!¡±

    ¡°I just want a quick nibble¡­ just one, maybe two¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­ for this exercise, you¡¯ll split into teams of two, heroes and villains, and¡­¡±

    ¡°A little, I swear¡­ just give me some, Niren¡­¡±

    Tsuyu asked, ¡°Without basic training?¡±

    ¡°This is real combat for understanding those basics!¡± All Might declared dramatically, striking a pose as if he were about to kiss his own bicep. ¡°But there¡¯s a twist this time¡ªthere are no robots you can just¡­¡±

    ¡°Just a bit¡­ I promise I¡¯ll behave¡­¡±

    ¡°And yet, Aizawa-kun did warn me about her...¡± the Symbol of Peace muttered. But this was All Might, used to speaking loudly to instill confidence in everyone¡­ so, naturally, everyone heard.

    Toga didn¡¯t even blink, continuing to peck at me like a woodpecker with the persistence of a jackhammer.

    ¡°Ni-i-ren¡­ plee-ase¡­¡±

    A few people, like Momo and Iida, tried to glare disapprovingly, but then seemed to remember that the troublemaker wasn¡¯t timid, mumbling Midoriya, who could easily be silenced. It was Himiko Toga¡ªand maybe me, too¡ªso they kept quiet and minded their own business. Hypocrites.

    Meanwhile, All Might got flooded with questions, and, seemingly nervous, pulled out a thin pamphlet with the practice¡¯s plan. He started droning on about the conditions for the ¡°scenario¡± we¡¯d be simulating.

    ¡°¡­ the villains have hidden a nuclear weapon in their hideout, and the heroes¡­¡±

    I just smiled. The idea that this confident mountain of a man who had saved countless lives and given thousands of interviews could get nervous about teaching hero wannabes was hilarious to me. If anything, he was just playing the part of an insecure teacher.

    Well, we all have our ways of dealing with superhuman stress.

    ¡°¡­ you either catch the villains or find the nuclear weapon within the allotted time¡­¡±

    ¡°Ni-i-ren, just give me some blood¡­¡±

    I started shaking with laughter, silently.

    Damn it, I really need to get these laughing fits under control¡ªthey¡¯re happening at the worst times.

    What if I get one during the Simulation Joint fight?

    That sobering thought instantly killed my laughter.

    ¡°¡­ the villains must either protect the weapon or capture the heroes. Teams will be decided by drawing lots.¡±

    As everyone began drawing slips of paper, I leaned down to whisper in the blonde¡¯s ear, retracting my helmet. The tousled ¡°donut¡± of her hair tickled.

    I whispered quietly to the little bunny-like pieces of mind, hiding somewhere deep in Himiko¡¯s head:

    "Not now. Later. Right now, you¡¯re being very rude. This boulder of muscles over there is a legendary hero, an icon for all of us. He¡¯s given us a few hours of his life to teach us how to become like him. Listen carefully and don¡¯t make noise."

    My words didn¡¯t leave a huge impact on Himiko, but she did let go of me, sulking and trying to act more appropriately for the valuable moment.

    And just like that, the moment passed, and off we went somewhere.

    Typical.

    ***

    So, the lottery¡ªit¡¯s great!

    Finally, things are heating up!

    There was logic behind this random pairing, plenty of it. Pro-heroes are often forced to form spontaneous alliances with whatever colleague happens to be around¡ªthere are lots of districts in cities, chases often go through the whole city, and different agencies compete for territory. Not to mention different people patrol on different days and shifts¡­ The logic was the same as when we students were assigned to different classes¡ªmaximum variety in situations for each of us.

    Out of the twenty of us, ten teams were formed based on the first letters of the English alphabet.

    Team "A"¡ªMidoriya and, surprisingly, Kyoka Jiro, the cute girl with the earphone jacks. However, in this past week, I realized she was only quiet and sweet with a select few, including me and a couple of others. With most of our classmates, she was confident, direct, aggressive, and even a bit rough. In fact, she wasn¡¯t shy about using violence¡ªDenki, who made a couple of borderline comments, got a solid hit from those "cords" growing out of her ears. "Earjacks"?

    Honestly, I like that kind of character; I¡¯d prefer people talked to me that way. But alas.

    I wonder how she and Izuku will get along?

    Team "B"¡ªTodoroki and Kirishima. Well¡­ someone¡¯s going to have a bad time. If the first one doesn¡¯t settle things immediately, the second will have no problem covering the rear.

    Team "C"¡ªMomo and Iida. Oh, the team of buzzkills!

    Team "D"¡ªBakugo. Frankly, if I¡¯m assessing his abilities correctly, he could take on everyone except me and Todoroki. But he¡¯s also paired with Uraraka, who¡¯s a formidable opponent in her own right.

    Again¡ªsomeone¡¯s in for a rough time.

    Team "E"¡ªMina and Yui. They¡¯ll be strong defenders, but as attackers¡­ eh, not so much.

    Team "F"¡ªNiren Shoda and Himiko Toga. Press "F," as they say.

    From what I gathered, my slip and Toga¡¯s simply stuck together when they were tossed into the box one after the other. Oh-ho-ho...

    Team "G"¡ªDenki and Aoyama. Long-range attacks for the win?

    Team "H"¡ªTokoyami and Asui. Bird-man and Frog-girl. Natural enemies, heh.

    Team "I"¡ªSetsuna and Hanta, a.k.a. Sero. Lego-woman and Tape-man. A highly mobile duo, dangerous especially if they¡¯re the "hero" invaders.

    Team "J"¡ªKiyotaka and the invisible girl, I always forget her name.

    Next, All Might, not wasting any time, pulled out two boxes and drew a smooth wooden ball from each. Like bingo, but with letters instead of numbers.

    "First up are them!"

    "E" and "H."

    The "villains," who turned out to be Kodai and Ashido, were sent to take positions in a building that didn¡¯t stand out from the others. Was it chosen randomly too?

    The "heroes" were left outside to wait. Both sides were given blueprints of the building and ten minutes to prepare. All Might recommended not holding back or fearing injuries, promising to step in if things got too heated.

    Meanwhile, we observers headed to the observation point, which turned out to be hidden among the mock buildings on the training grounds.

    I had an intense urge to bet with someone.

    Of course, I¡¯d bet on Yui.

    Even if she had low odds, I¡¯d still bet on her, just like I would for Setsuna¡¯s team. And on myself.

    The observation room was impressive. The unremarkable concrete box housed a massive screen, like in a movie theater, where we could watch this reality show from five different angles. The entire building was lined with armored plates on the inside.

    All Might leaned toward the microphone on the control panel, which, next to his huge hands, looked like a toothpick, and announced:

    "Let¡¯s start the indoor battle training between teams ''E'' and ''H''!"

    The match had a time limit of fifteen minutes.

    The defenders (I think this name fit their role better) immediately sprang into action, while the attackers quickly infiltrated the building.

    It turned out that Tsuyu could jump high and far, stick to walls like a clone of Peter Parker, and use her tongue as a grappling hook to latch onto railings or window frames. Tokoyami hadn¡¯t shown anything impressive yet, relying on the girl¡¯s help.

    Meanwhile, on another screen, Yui¡¯s army was making grand preparations for defense, and as expected from my first student, the plan was multilayered. I grinned throughout the entire fifteen minutes.

    First, Yui convinced Mina to pour acid all over the stairs leading to their floor, literally melting them. Of course, this wouldn¡¯t stop Tsuyu the frog, but it would slow down the bird who couldn¡¯t fly.

    Second, Ashido had to keep running from window to window¡ªthose they left open¡ªand regularly coat the windowsills with slippery acid, protecting them from the French escapee.

    Third, Yui enlarged various concrete blocks, barrels, railings, and even construction debris, which were abundant in the building, creating makeshift barricades blocking access to their floor.

    Fourth, the two of them set up several traps. Mina¡¯s mines, so to speak.

    In short, the girls dug in.

    However, their tactic had one major flaw. They had to constantly renew their defenses¡ªwhether it was fresh acid or maintaining enlarged objects, their strength was quickly depleting, and they wouldn¡¯t last long.

    But they could hold out for fifteen minutes.

    And they almost did¡­

    When the "heroes" finally reached the barricades, they hesitated at first, but then Tsuyu tried sneaking around the building¡¯s exterior¡ªand unexpectedly easy broke through to their floor, where she was promptly chased around by Mina.

    As it turned out, the frog-girl could cover herself in a slime-like substance similar to what Ashido produced. So, the acid didn¡¯t harm her, and she was just a step away from the room where the nuclear bomb prop was hidden. But the pink alien girl had shockingly fast reflexes¡ªmaybe even better than mine and Bakugo¡¯s.

    Ultimately, Tsuyu was driven back¡ªher long, slimy tongue didn¡¯t help, as the villain girls were anything but squeamish.

    That¡¯s when Tokoyami made his move.

    It turned out the guy could summon something like a dark copy of himself, a shadowy demon. And this demon was quite powerful¡ªseemingly stronger in darkness and weaker in sunlight. Outside the building, it wasn¡¯t very impressive. But inside, where Yui¡¯s barricades had created dim lighting, this Dark Shadow (the bird-boy wasn¡¯t very creative with names) began brute-forcing its way to their floor.

    And it succeeded. Honestly, I¡¯m not sure I could have done it faster¡­ although the raven-boy still doesn¡¯t seem like a strong opponent. Despite the shadow¡¯s power, Tokoyami himself is just an ordinary student, and since the Shadow is connected to him by something like an umbilical cord, his body remains their weak point. If you could bypass the Shadow and knock out Tokoyami, it¡¯d be over in seconds.

    Long story short, just a few minutes before the timer ran out, the attacking team broke through to the floor, avoided a few traps with melted-through floors, and¡­

    I grinned even wider.

    They couldn¡¯t find the bomb.

    Because Yui¡¯s second line of defense was as simple as it was brilliant. She shrunk the bomb. And hid it.

    She didn¡¯t even plan on holding the defense for the full fifteen minutes.

    Considering the only rule was that the bomb had to stay in the building, and Yui could easily carry it around in her pocket, the raven-frog duo didn¡¯t stand a chance from the start.

    In short, a clean win for team "E."

    All Might rightly declared Yui the MVP of the match.

    When Yui and Mina returned to the observation center, I was one of the few who earned the honor of a high-five from them. I¡¯ll consider it a sign of good luck¡ªlike how pretty girls blow on dice at the casino¡­

    All Might once again pulled out his black and white boxes and announced the next match:

    "A" versus "D."

    Oh.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    <u></u>

    Iida¡¯s costume. I like it. Heavy influence from Gundam and possibly Incursio from "Akame Ga Kill," but the concept is still cool.

    Bakugo¡¯s costume. I still think that despite the artist¡¯s clever idea with the gauntlets, this is something only a twelve-year-old kid would wear, and for one of the central characters of the manga, wearing this is just embarrassing.

    Midoriya¡¯s costume. Fortunately, it¡¯s the first, and they get progressively cooler as the series goes on.

    Am I the only one with this inappropriate association?

    Fanservice with Momo. Interestingly, the internet is full of much more modest and functional versions of her costume designed by fan artists.

    <u>Author''s Note:</u>

    Today is the day I¡¯ve posted Volume 2¡¯s final chapter on the other platform. It¡¯s almost unbelievable how much time and effort it took me to reach this point¡ªand how little I gained in return. But, in any case, rest assured that there are at least twenty-one more chapters of Thorny Path of a Pro-Hero that you¡¯ll be able to read at some point.

 Episode 12. Part IV.

    After the match between them was announced, the blond and the green-haired boy exchanged glances. At first, the latter nervously looked away, but then he pulled himself together and firmly met Bakugo¡¯s gaze, which both impressed and angered him. That guy really needed therapy, as any irritation triggered the same reaction from him.

    No worries though. We¡¯re treating Toga, Iida will get therapy, Setsuna¡¯s already cured, and you¡¯ll be next, dear¡­

    Their fight promised to be entertaining, and I regretted not bringing some popcorn or another snack.

    Speaking of food¡­

    ¡°Himiko,¡± I stepped into the corner, into the shadows, and quietly called the sulking blonde. With a sour expression, Toga sat against the wall, showing no interest in her classmates or the earlier match, doodling something in the dust. Hearts, it seemed.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s time to start preparing for our turn¡­¡±

    It took her a few seconds to make the connection, and then her indifferent eyes slowly widened with excitement.

    ¡°I¡¯m so happy! It¡¯s so romantic¡­¡±

    Sigh, how am I ever going to cure her of this kind of mania?

    But for now, that didn¡¯t matter. If the school administration had allowed her to attend after a psychological consultation, they must have concluded that her condition wasn¡¯t critical and that frequent quirk usage wouldn¡¯t worsen it. I shouldn¡¯t doubt their competence too much.

    At the moment, I just wanted to win our match. I had my suspicions that the opponent assignment wasn¡¯t entirely random. If things went as expected, Toga would play a key role in my victory.

    I unfastened my bracer and took off the glove from my left hand.

    ¡°Dinner is served, milady.¡±

    *Bite*

    I winced involuntarily as Toga¡¯s eager fangs pierced my skin.

    After this match, I was dragging Himiko to the support department by the scruff of her neck if necessary. They needed to find a way for her costume to collect blood samples more easily! This was a matter of survival¡ªit hurt, dammit!

    ***

    After we switched locations¡ªseems like they¡¯ll change buildings for each match if the participants don''t hold back their strength¡ªMidoriya and Jiro were labeled as heroes and sent to wait by the doors. Meanwhile, the villains, Bakugo and a thoroughly embarrassed by her villainous role, Uraraka, went to study their defense zones.

    The brunette desperately and unsuccessfully tried to make contact with Katsuki (I think she made it worse by mentioning Deku). On the other hand, things weren¡¯t going much better for the heroes¡ªJiro wasn¡¯t really paying attention to the secret chosen one of All Might and clearly aimed to take the lead.

    Let¡¯s see how this goes.

    As soon as the fifteen-minute countdown began, Katsuki, ignoring Uraraka, charged straight at Midoriya¡¯s team. That was expected.

    What wasn¡¯t expected were the surprises that followed.

    First, Jiro, after signaling Midoriya to stop, plugged her earphone jack into the wall. She tracked both Uraraka, who was stuck in defense, setting up traps alone, and Bakugo, rushing to share his discontent.

    Team ¡°A¡± wisely decided not to confront Katsuki head-on and went around.

    Every building had several paths leading up, so it was entirely possible for them to reach their destination while avoiding conflict. The blond, quickly descending and not finding Deku (he seriously shouted that nickname across the building, causing Midoriya, running up, to shudder and nearly cross himself), immediately realized what was happening and practically flew upstairs.

    The cameras followed the participants. This gave me a chance to study Katsuki¡¯s movements in detail: with his arms spread and creating explosions from his palms, the guy not only sped up but could also fly for short distances. It looked pretty similar to what I do¡­ except he was better. I couldn''t bypass the need to first create markers, which would waste extra movements and time. On the other hand, my running and jumping method, thanks to almost automatic marker creation, could theoretically make me faster¡­ though it didn¡¯t change the fact that he could fly, and I couldn¡¯t.

    Fortunately, I had long since developed an idea to address that.

    Jiro tracked Katsuki several times, allowing the team to change their route and successfully avoid confrontation. And since he hadn¡¯t coordinated with Ochako, the heroes had an advantage.

    But he still caught up to them on the second-to-last floor, apparently guessing the right flight.

    And that¡¯s when Midoriya stepped up. It seemed like the ten minutes of preparation and the five minutes of fleeing gave him enough time to formulate a plan because, instead of getting knocked out in a direct confrontation, he executed a clever strategy that led to their victory.

    But let¡¯s take it step by step.

    When Katsuki, somehow anticipating their location, jumped out at them with an explosion ready, Midoriya reacted in time while Jiro didn¡¯t.

    So, he pushed her back, slightly scorching his embarrassing costume in the process but remaining mostly unscathed. He stood over her protectively.

    Which was rather amusing, considering that Jiro, with her whips, was far more dangerous in close combat than Izuku. At the moment, anyway.

    Katsuki screamed something about ¡°stop making a fool out of me!¡± and lunged forward, raising his right fist¡­

    Izuku stepped back, turned sideways¡­

    Grabbed his arm¡­

    And slammed Bakugo into the ground with a rather clean over-the-shoulder throw.

    Hmm, I had suspected he¡¯d been going somewhere. Jiu-jitsu, huh?

    Well, for a scrawny quirkless teen, it was a good choice¡ªsolid self-defense, using the opponent''s strength, weight, and momentum against them, and more practical, in my opinion, than judo. Clearly, he knew a thing or two, and the throw was pretty good.

    Except now that he had One-For-All, designed for direct, overwhelming confrontations, jiu-jitsu had become nearly useless for him.

    ¡°Yui, Yui, did you see that? I know what that¡¯s called! It¡¯s Ippon Seoi Nage, an over-the-shoulder throw with an arm grab!¡± Setsuna whispered excitedly and proudly.

    ¡°That¡¯s jiu-jitsu, Tsuna, not judo.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ oops.¡±

    The rest of the class started buzzing. No one had expected much from Midoriya until now, and that was a mistake.

    Things changed again when Bakugo exploded off the floor, scattering them in all directions. He blinded Midoriya with an explosion to the face, using it as a smoke screen, simultaneously launching himself upward to attack Izuku from behind.

    Then, accelerating with one hand, he grabbed poor nerd-boy with the other and slammed him into the tiles¡ªjust like the jiu-jitsu throw but adjusted for superhuman strength.

    I snorted. Sure, he could create explosions, had a body resistant to them, and his physical strength was enhanced.

    Even Shoto Todoroki deigned to speak:

    "I didn¡¯t think he was the thinking type, but he¡¯s more thoughtful than I thought."

    I wondered how long he had to think to come up with that line.

    Kirishima didn¡¯t get it, so Shoto explained what Bakugo had done. Then Momo chimed in with her own pseudo-intellectual thoughts on inertia and explosion force¡ªclearly not missing any opportunity to show off.

    Maybe I was wrong about her after all¡ªperhaps she did design her own costume.

    Meanwhile, instead of lying down and listening to Bakugo¡¯s childish accusations¡ªlike ¡°you had a quirk all along?!¡± and ¡°stop looking down on me!¡± and ¡°stop ignoring me!¡±¡ªMidoriya shouted:If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Do it!¡±

    And Jiro did.

    Instead of running or hiding, the two had set a trap!

    Jiro wrapped her earphone jacks around Bakugo¡¯s legs, tripping him and making him fall again. She probably passed sound through them too because he suddenly choked on his own yelling and cringed.

    Then Midoriya placed his hand on the floor beneath Bakugo, pulled back his ring finger¡­ it glowed¡­ there was a boom, and a dumbfounded Bakugo fell through the hole.

    ¡°Run!¡± the boy commanded, dashing down the corridor, cradling his injured hand to his chest.

    The brunette hesitated, clearly thinking they¡¯d won¡ªand nearly got blown away, as the enraged blond rocketed back up through the hole.

    ¡°Jiro, let¡¯s go!¡± Midoriya yelled again, and they did. They collapsed the hallway behind them, dattebayo!

    This happened two more times¡ªthe building shook, debris piled up behind the "heroes," Bakugo blew it up but lost speed and fell behind. And the collapses triggered by Jiro¡¯s vibrations cost the kids only two of Midoriya¡¯s fingers, one of which he used to destroy the staircase behind them.

    Once, the blonde psycho used his gauntlets¡ªthey turned out to be useful, apparently storing his energy or whatever he uses for his explosions. As a close-range fighter, Katsuki compensated for his weakness at a distance with his gauntlets¡ªhe triggered one, and it blew a massive hole through the building¡­

    But he didn¡¯t catch the ¡°heroes,¡± could have collapsed the structure without it, and even got scolded by All Might for damaging the building he was supposed to be defending.

    ¡°Aaaargh!!!¡± was his reaction to that, before he kept running.

    In the end, a sweating Midoriya and a dusty Jiro made it to the floor with Uraraka first.

    And then it almost ended¡ªa pile of debris that Ochako had suspended above each entrance fell on them.

    Once again, Izuku reacted in time and struck upward¡ªthis time using his entire arm.

    The rubble was blown aside by a gust of wind, sending Ochako, who had been floating toward them, flying, blowing off the roof completely, and leaving Midoriya staggering, powerless, and without the use of his arms¡­

    But Kiyoka Jiro, after looking around in shock, shrugged, extended her earphone jacks, and reached up to grab the rocket hanging from the ceiling, winning the match.

    ¡°Team ¡®A¡¯ wins!¡± All Might shouted, his voice choked with emotion.

    From the last pile of debris came Bakugo¡¯s enraged roar...

    ***

    The match results were rather ambiguous.

    Ochako, peeling herself off the wall, ran to apologize to the nearly unconscious Izuku, who was being taken away by the medical robots. Kiyoka was named the MVP, though she tried to deny it, insisting the whole plan was Midoriya¡¯s. And what plan? Katsuki was barely pacified¡­

    Bakugo behaved very childishly throughout the match. He got angry when Midoriya ran and communicated with his teammate (we were all given compact earpieces for communication). And when Izuku didn¡¯t run, he yelled accusations about being underestimated and claimed that Midoriya had deceived him all his life.

    It seemed that this spoiled kid was another genius, but an immature country overachiever. A more severe case than Setsuna¡¯s¡­ mainly because, unlike her, his combat potential was genuinely immense, and I probably wouldn¡¯t be able to showcase the gulf between him and¡­

    Well, maybe that¡¯s not my responsibility?

    I glanced at the unconscious Midoriya on the stretcher, being followed by the camera like a fallen hero. Perhaps it¡¯s more his cross to bear. It¡¯s one thing if a talented jerk faces off against me or Todoroki, who are already branded as geniuses. It¡¯s another if his self-esteem slammed into the ground by a former nerd he used to bully.

    The latter would be much more effective.

    When the two girls and¡­ I¡¯m not sure what word to use to describe him. Defeated? Shattered? Lost? Well, when the girls and the psychologically traumatized Bakugo returned to the arena, All Might announced the third battle.

    ***

    Setsuna¡¯s team got to face off against Iida¡¯s team.

    Oh, this was a battle of titans!

    Togake was lucky to be on the hero side, and because of this, Momo and Tenya spent all fifteen minutes of the match running in circles around the rocket, fending off endless waves of Setsuna''s parts, which kept swarming onto their floor from all directions. I congratulated myself for emphasizing stamina and flight duration in Tsuna¡¯s training.

    In theory, the barbed wire that Yaoyorozu created could have stopped our Everywhere Girl, but Hanta proved his worth by casually pulling the coils apart with his tape, creating large enough gaps.

    In the end, the heroes won.

    First, Momo was knocked out of the game, taking a blow to the stomach and deciding to take a little nap by the wall.

    Then, a panting Iida tripped over Hanta¡¯s crafty tape (Hunter, indeed!) and, with an approving kick from a delighted Setsuna, flew into the tangle of wire, where he got hopelessly entangled due to his armor.

    Flawless victory¡ªjust the way I like it.

    After this match, Setsuna might have gained a reputation as an even bigger monster than Bakugo, considering he didn¡¯t win his match despite all the collateral destruction.

    However, the next match showcased an even scarier opponent.

    ***

    Remember how I expected that Aoyama¡¯s laser and Denki¡¯s electricity would dominate the battlefield with their long-range attacks? And if they were placed in the villain role, especially in defense, hardly anyone could do much against them!

    Well¡­

    Leaving the surprised Invisible Girl outside, damn Kiyotaka Shinya entered the building alone, with a respirator mask on his face. A few minutes later, purple smoke, or rather fog, started pouring out of the windows. Five minutes after that, he kicked open the door and dragged out two unconscious bodies.

    ¡°I can sense what¡¯s in my fog and where,¡± he rasped when questioned by an allegedly impressed All Might. Then, he silently moved to the opposite corner of the room from Toga and me.

    And that was it.

    Now that was a Flawless victory! Everyone present was filled with awe and terror. Looking at it this way, Kiyotaka was almost the ideal hero when it came to dealing with ordinary criminals without specialized defenses or formidable quirks.

    Perhaps the only drawback I can see with Shinya¡¯s foggy, in every sense, abilities is that he needs the respirator himself. That means he has no immunity to his own quirk. And that¡¯s a huge weakness.

    Plus, there¡¯s his enhanced physical strength, which allowed him to carry two bodies down six floors¡­ When Aizawa asked about Kiyotaka¡¯s physical strength enhancement during the quirk test on the first day, the guy just calmly responded with something about ¡°good genetics and a healthy diet.¡±

    It turned out to be a joke (which was surprising by itself), and apparently, Shinya had learned to alter the composition of his fog to induce a short-lived doping effect. At least, according to his own words.

    He also reminded everyone that he mentioned this in his quirk registration form, to which Eraserhead just nodded and glanced at me.

    Paranoid bastard.

    Still, the fact that Shinya¡¯s strength didn¡¯t impress anyone wasn¡¯t surprising. These days, peak muscle contractions are enhanced in nearly half of all quirk users. For some, it¡¯s a side effect of their quirk, like Kirishima. For others, it¡¯s a logical consequence of their body adapting to their quirk, like Bakugo. Some even inherit it genetically from their parents, like Koji Koda from Class B.

    So yeah, it''s cool, useful, but not a full-fledged enhancement quirk like, say, Mirko¡¯s, which allows her to rise in the hero rankings like climbing a regular staircase.

    On that quirk understanding test, by the way, half our class showed superhuman results. Even Mina, for example.

    So neither I nor Shinya stood out. Only Midoriya did, because the enhancements on him were¡­ well, a lot.

    Suspicious, I¡¯d say¡­ if it were up to me.

    But I wasn¡¯t the only one who noticed something: I happened to catch the long, not particularly friendly look All Might gave to Kiyotaka¡¯s back as he left. Believe me¡ªwhen someone like All Might looks at you like that, it¡¯s not just a red flag. It¡¯s a massive f***ing warning bell, like a death knell.

    So, I spent those few minutes frantically analyzing everything that might have caused All Might¡¯s displeasure or suspicion. Too brutal? No, there¡¯s Bakugo, who¡¯s far more brutal. Too powerful? Todoroki is way more impressive. Too technical? Hmm¡­

    Finding no answers, I turned back to the screen.

    Alright, who¡¯s left in the teams? Ah¡­

    Looks like they¡¯ve saved us for dessert.

    ¡°Well¡­ only you guys are left!¡± the cheerful Symbol of Peace announced, addressing the two remaining teams¡ªmine and Todoroki¡¯s.

    ¡°Finally!¡± Kirishima exclaimed. ¡°I¡¯m fired up!¡±

    His partner didn¡¯t even spare us a glance, silently heading toward the building. The redheaded Terminator gave an apologetic shrug.

    I should mention that Shoto Todoroki didn¡¯t come across as just arrogant to me; in Japanese, a lot of attention is paid to specific speech patterns that convey tone. There¡¯s polite, rude, formal, neutral, and warm language for family situations¡ªeach has its own pronouns, honorifics, and forms of address.

    Todoroki, however, used neutral constructions with everyone, consciously choosing an ice-cold, detached manner of speaking. You would say he spoke ¡°through clenched teeth¡± or ¡°with disdain.¡± Simply put, he acted condescendingly.

    Well then, let¡¯s see if he has a reason to look down on me as an opponent, especially if he only plans to use fifty percent of his quirk. That¡¯s what my memories suggest, and what I saw during Aizawa¡¯s test, and finally, his hero costume, which looked like an icy suit¡ªbut only on one side of his body. The hot side, I assume.

    ¡°Well,¡± I said quietly, not addressing anyone in particular, ¡°the student who ranked first in the recommendation exam versus the one who ranked first in the regular entrance exam. Quite the coincidence, huh?¡±

    No one answered, except for Bakugo¡¯s gritting teeth.

    Before Kirishima left, I smiled at him and offered my hand for a handshake:

    ¡°May the best one win :)¡±

    The straightforward guy beamed in response and dashed off to catch up with his Dalmatian teammate.

    Taking with him a marker I¡¯d placed on his palm.

    Unfair?

    Maybe.

    I started walking slowly behind them.

    ¡°Come on, Toga! Time to show them who the real arrogant jerk is.¡±

    ¡°Yes! It¡¯ll be fun!¡±

    The girl, suddenly brimming with energy, ran ahead of me, spreading her arms like an airplane. Such a child sometimes¡­

    Really, how can she be a villain?

    ***

    We were called ¡°villains,¡± which carried plenty of symbolism, and we began setting up our defense in a new building, the fifth one we¡¯d used so far.

    We had ten minutes to prepare.

    I had a rough idea of what to expect from the enemy. He¡¯d try to freeze us. Maybe he¡¯d freeze floor by floor, maybe the entire building if his power allowed it. And, of course, he¡¯d do it alone because he was a proud bird, all talent and eugenic genius.

    Kirishima, however, made a good teammate for him, which meant they¡¯d likely come together. His Hardening would allow him to ignore the extreme cold, something neither Toga nor I could do¡­

    Although I had a few ideas.

    Once my predatory blonde found a sharp metal pipe in the debris, I began quietly explaining the situation and my plan to her.

    She liked it. As I¡¯d come to realize, she enjoyed trickery and leading people by the nose.

    The plan was based on a few curious observations I¡¯d made about her quirk over the past week while serving as her primary¡­ food source. Literally. Toga¡¯s quirk had clearly altered her metabolism and digestive tract, allowing her to gulp down blood by the liter (we haven¡¯t tested her limits yet, but we will). However, after drinking blood, she lost her appetite for regular food and could go days without eating.

    The plan? Simple¡ªToga, despite her superhuman reflexes (believe me, she¡¯s even faster than me), would not react to the freezing.

    Cool plan, huh?

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    I had an "oops" moment at first¡ªthe fight lasts fifteen minutes, not twenty.

    The utterly defeated "first guy in the whole village."

    Interestingly, Kirishima, who later became the closest to achieving the status of Bakugo''s best friend in MHA, didn''t initially like the aforementioned blond.

    No comments.

 Episode 12. Part V.

    When I finished moving our papier-mach¨¦ rocket, which we were supposed to protect, into the farthest corner of the hall, the match began.

    After waiting for ten more seconds, I knew for sure that the "heroes" had entered the building¡ªKirishima''s marker on my palm was crystal clear.

    In all the years of living with my quirk and experimenting with it, I never found a single way, barrier, or material that could block my precise awareness of my markers'' locations. The only limitations I discovered were distance (if too far, they would stop being detectable), time (they would eventually fade), and significant deformation of the surface the marker was placed on.

    It turned out that everything hinged on the specific coordinates of the marked surface in space.

    Pausing for a couple of seconds, I felt Kirishima''s marker approaching quickly.

    Of course, there was a chance that Eijiro would fall behind Shoto or not follow him at all. But I was betting that his protective quirk would allow him to shrug off the ice, and his character wouldn''t let him leave his partner behind.

    And I was right. He was heading toward us, moving up. Having memorized the building''s layout perfectly¡ªthanks to my quirk-enhanced memory¡ªI could pinpoint his location and predict his route. This was good.

    Because it was Eijiro Kirishima I wanted to take out first.

    I glanced at Toga.

    "It¡¯s begun."

    I turned away. She would manage.

    I caught a glimpse of the rapidly approaching wave of ice covering the floor, walls, and ceiling...

    And jumped out the window.

    ***

    At that time.

    Observation Center for Students, Training Ground "Beta," U.A. Academy Grounds.

    Toshinori Yagi.

    Izuku Midoriya¡¯s classmates were a remarkable bunch. So much talent!

    Even as the growing exhaustion from his dwindling time in his active form gnawed at him, All Might couldn¡¯t bring himself to either rush the students or tear his eyes away from the screen. His experienced eye noted both numerous mistakes and clever¡ªalbeit simple¡ªstrategies the kids had come up with. Yui Kodai, Fumikage Tokoyami, Katsuki Bakugo, Setsuna Tokage, Tenya Iida, and, of course, Izuku Midoriya¡ªall these students had the potential to become some of the strongest heroes of the future.

    Not that he ever had much time to watch sports festivals before¡­

    All in all, everything was going well.

    That is, until he took a closer look at one more talented student.

    Kiyotaka Shinya.

    Potentially one of the top three¡ªmaybe four¡ªstrongest students in the class, at least until young Midoriya came into his full power. The ability to put enemies to sleep with mist, fog, or gas was already a highly formidable quirk, just ask Midnight. But Kiyotaka¡¯s range was dozens of times larger than Nemuri¡¯s! Such a quirk could easily make him a Pro-Hero within the top hundred rankings.

    The fact that his quirk also had two additional properties¡ªenhanced mobility and strength¡ªwas simply extraordinary! Endeavor, whom Toshinori would have named without hesitation as the next No. One Hero if All Might had fallen in battle, had reached such heights precisely because of similar secondary abilities¡ªtremendous physical strength and a body almost as durable as Toshinori¡¯s One For All-enhanced form.

    And Kiyotaka had even more, according to his file. What did it say? Condensing the mist into a liquid for movement¡­ temporarily boosting his strength through a stimulant he created by altering the chemical composition of his quirk¡¯s sedative¡­ heightened spatial awareness within the mist¡¯s reach¡­ What a talent!

    Yes, the frail-looking, gray-haired boy was incredibly promising.

    But the moment the Symbol of Peace looked more closely at him, his instincts screamed.

    "DANGER NEARBY!"

    Toshinori wouldn¡¯t have survived even a tenth of his professional career if he hadn¡¯t learned to obey his instincts and reflexes without question.

    But¡­ where was the danger? Who should he protect, and from whom? Whom to attack?

    Discreetly scanning the students, All Might was forced to admit that his instincts were warning him about Kiyotaka specifically.

    But why? The boy was quiet, kept to himself, and didn¡¯t act out. There was something subtly off about his behavior, though, like he was holding back, afraid of revealing something with a careless word or gesture.

    Toshinori felt a chill.

    Could it be¡­ was it possible¡­ that this was HIM¡­ or rather, one of his new pawns? A servant, or a spy, or a puppet¡­

    No. No, this was something else.

    Kiyotaka felt¡­ familiar. Like someone from his past. Could he be someone¡¯s son? But Toshinori couldn¡¯t recall anyone with similar looks or quirks, despite his thirty-year career filled with daily confrontations. Even among heroes, aside from Midnight...

    He followed Kiyotaka¡¯s departure from the screen with his eyes, as the boy moved away with a neutral expression. His face showed no emotion, his hands were relaxed, no sign of sweating¡­ but his back was tense.

    So, he really did fear him, All Might.

    Who was he?

    Forcing himself to shift focus, All Might knew he couldn¡¯t afford to fixate solely on Shinya. His class was not done yet, and there was still one more group. His time in his combat form was running out, and he could already feel fatigue creeping in. But he wasn¡¯t Toshinori Yagi, the frail invalid, right now. He was the Symbol of Peace! He couldn¡¯t let down the students, who looked up to him as the unreachable ideal, the pillar of hope for a brighter future. Not now. Not yet¡­

    He turned his attention back to the remaining participants. Who was left? Ah, Shoto Todoroki, Endeavor¡¯s son. He ranked second in the recommendation entrance exam, though the top student had withdrawn. Strange. Eijiro Kirishima, with a fantastic quirk that allowed him not to worry about his safety, had taken third place in the general entrance exam.

    On the opposing team¡ªNiren Shoda. He had ranked first in the same exam. A model student, but his quirk still puzzled All Might. However, the tall, well-built boy handled it skillfully. His partner, Himeko Toga, sent shivers down Toshinori¡¯s spine. She reminded him a bit too much of Nemuri Kayama.

    He cast a quick glance at Kiyotaka, who stood by the wall with arms crossed. No immediate danger¡­ for now. But the boy was there, and if anything happened, All Might would be ready to intervene. And then he would speak to Nezu. After class¡­ and after checking on young Midoriya, of course.

    As the teams took their positions, Toshinori focused on the upcoming clash.

    It promised to be interesting¡­ albeit short. The "villains" weren¡¯t wasting time; Niren clearly had a plan. The girl listened calmly and attentively, not interrupting, just impatiently swinging around some weapon she¡¯d found. The Symbol of Peace frowned imperceptibly: preparation and seeking advantage before battle were great traits for a hero¡ªbut not with a rusty, jagged pipe, for goodness¡¯ sake! If anyone got hurt, a visit to Chiyo for a tetanus shot would be unavoidable.

    Then the girl began her transformation, shedding some of her clothes and covering herself with something gray, until¡­ she became a copy of the blue-haired boy, growing broader in the shoulders and gaining a foot in height. No, wait, feet are in the U.S. One-third of a meter. The resemblance was uncanny! The only odd thing was that Toga hadn¡¯t copied his clothes¡ªspecifically his armor¡ªand ended up in a U.A. tracksuit instead.

    The students murmured in surprise: only a couple of them had seen Toga¡¯s quirk in action before. All Might shook his head in disappointment. It was a clever idea, to confuse the opponent and attack from different angles. The heroes wouldn¡¯t know which "Niren" was the real threat¡­ but the scale wasn¡¯t right. Their opponent would just engulf them both in a wide attack.

    Toshinori had heard rumors that Endeavor¡¯s son was destined to surpass even his father in power, but he had yet to see the cold, aloof boy in action.

    Ten seconds into the match¡ªhe did.

    He watched as Shoto, without moving an inch, completely froze over a fifteen-story building. The "villains," for the record, had taken refuge on the top floor.

    Almost everyone in the room reflexively hugged themselves as they observed the mighty and swift wave of ice rolling up the stairs, through doorways and corridors, consuming room after room, floor after floor...

    It wasn¡¯t surprising that "Niren"¡ªor rather, Toga¡ªdidn¡¯t have time to react as the floor was swiftly covered in ice, freezing her feet solid. The figure jerked her leg a couple of times¡ªwithout success¡ªbefore standing still in a relaxed pose.

    Given the overwhelming power of her opponent, there wasn¡¯t much sense in struggling. Though Toshinori had spent his life fighting against the very concept of despair and hopelessness, he could understand the girl¡¯s emotions in this situation.

    Endeavor¡¯s son already inspired awe.

    But then¡­This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Tsuyu Asui¡¯s puzzled voice broke the tension of the moment:

    "Is he¡­ flying?"

    ***

    Niren

    Over the past month, especially during the last week, life has given me several opportunities to look at myself and my "quest" from an unusual perspective. To reassess my goals, my identity, and my plans.

    During this time, I realized that despite all my efforts to remain objective, balanced, and reasonable, I still¡­ failed in some areas.

    They say that existence shapes consciousness. Perhaps, to some extent, this is true. By isolating myself for a higher purpose, depriving myself of social interaction for years, without a single person to confide in, preparing for a greater goal for more than a decade¡­ I probably couldn''t help but be infected by thoughts of my own uniqueness. Specialness. It was inevitable.

    So, Niren, has fame gotten to your head?

    Fortunately, the cure, though delayed, finally arrived a few days ago in the form of a therapy session with a furry rug.

    And, I must admit, it did me good. Perhaps even more beneficial would be a sparring match with All Might¡­ ah, dreams.

    After my injuries during the entrance exam, after the failure during Aizawa''s test, and the humiliating conversation with Nezu, where, for the first time in many years, I was shown that one should only consider themselves the smartest person in the room when they''re the only one there¡­ I realized that I had grown quite an overblown sense of self-importance, and one therapy session wouldn''t be enough. It turns out, there are plenty of people around me right now who are smarter, stronger, more talented, and simply more exceptional. Or maybe they were always there, but I was too preoccupied with myself and my "genius" to notice.

    Here, a heavy sigh and a reminder of the Unforeseen Simulation Joint should follow. Yes¡­ my Plan is still intact, and when it happens, the best future for the country, and possibly the world, still depends solely on me. No one can change anything but me.

    But at least now, I understand that I got a bit too full of myself. I might not pull it off. And when the time comes, I''ll ask for help. From everyone I can.

    However, coming back to more immediate matters¡­ all these pompous and sentimental realizations do nothing to quell my desire to bring a couple of even more overinflated characters down to earth.

    For instance, Todoroki.

    So, I devised a plan for Toga and me to win.

    ...Turning away from Toga, I jumped out the window.

    We were on the fifteenth floor, one of the tallest buildings on the Center''s grounds¡­ and, most likely, if I were to fall right now, I''d die. But I wasn''t planning to fall. I was planning to do the opposite!

    Pushing off with markers from my feet, I shot upward, hovering for a moment in midair¡­

    I spread my arms wide to the sides¡­

    And unfolded my "wings."

    Three membranes made of special two-layered fabric stretched between my legs and along my sides. Each membrane had a spar, a frame forming a cavity that inflated with air, generating lift during forward flight.

    A wingsuit. A winged suit. That''s what I had requested to be added to my armor.

    And they made it happen!

    With a single impulse from my right hand (losing balance and dropping a meter in height), I turned myself sideways to the building. And I flew along the wall of the house¡ªlike circling it in a parade, showing off.

    The wind rushed in my face. The blue sky beckoned¡­

    Unfortunately, I couldn''t allow myself to fly for long¡ªmy opponents hadn¡¯t yet reached the upper floors from which I could be spotted, but they were moving quickly. If they saw me too early, the whole plan would go down the drain.

    So, losing a couple more floors of altitude, I glided onto the roof of a nearby tall building, about ten meters from ours, which I had spotted in advance. Retracting the membranes into my suit and killing the momentum with a final impulse, I ducked out of sight behind the parapet. Sure, there was a clap, but they probably wouldn''t hear it inside the building.

    It would have been simpler to just cling to the wall of our building. But it was completely covered in ice. And even if I managed to latch onto it¡ªthe smooth and slippery armor had its drawbacks¡ªI¡¯d likely just freeze to it.

    Besides, I wouldn''t have been able to show off my flight, heh.

    I''d been waiting for this suit for years.

    In any case, it''s now up to Himiko.

    "I''m in position," I said to Toga, pressing the earpiece. "How are you? Okay?"

    "Waiting, it''s cold here¡­ and boring¡­ Can I cut one of them later? Can I, can I?"

    "Shhh¡­ shhh¡­ you''re breaking up, bad connection up here, can''t hear you¡­"

    "Niren-kun?! Niren? Are you there? Tell me you''re there! Are you?"

    "On your signal, Himiko. Do you remember the plan?"

    "Yes."

    "Good. Radio silence now."

    "But¡­ it''s lonely here¡­ all alone¡­" Considering she was speaking with my voice, it was far from endearing or protective. "I''m hungry¡­"

    I sighed.

    "You can poke Kirishima in the side with the pipe at the end of the match, just this once."

    "Hooray! Hooray! I''m the happiest!"

    "But only when he activates his Quirk, Himiko," I added sternly.

    ":*"

    She clearly took out her earpiece and kissed it.

    Oh well. Who needs girls, really, when you can fly?! First things first, airplanes¡­

    Of course, the fabric and the overall construction of my new wingsuit were far superior to what I had dealt with in my previous life. I sometimes forgot that this world is much more technologically advanced, and my armored wingsuit allowed me to glide even among the densely packed city buildings. I could even gain altitude with ease! Fifteen¡­ no, twenty years ago, I chickened out and didn¡¯t try base jumping. Now I¡¯ve corrected that oversight en passant. Once again, proving that the right motivation is key. What is fear of heights to me, what is the fear of smashing into the ground, when there¡¯s so much at stake¡­

    I clapped my hands, shifted my weight, then focused on the feeling of the marker on Kirishima. They were almost there. Almost¡­

    "They''re here."

    I stood on the ledge¡­

    Time to move.

    ***

    At the same time.

    Toshinori Yagi.

    Alongside Niren¡¯s classmates, All Might watched with genuine joy as the suit allowed him to fly. He was always amazed by Quirk users who, through technological or other devices, found new ways to use or overcome certain limitations. David Shields, his old friend, was a true master in this regard.

    And especially¡ªflying! Humanity¡¯s eternal dream since the days of Ancient Greece! Even he, the mighty Symbol of Peace, never learned to fly¡­ unlike his Teacher¡­ ah, yes.

    For a moment, he closed his eyes, pushing away memories of Nana Shimura. So many years had passed, and the pain was still as sharp. Perhaps¡­ he was still afraid to admit it even to himself¡­ but deep down, Toshinori understood that his Teacher had been his first love. And honestly, who wouldn¡¯t fall for her?

    Which only made the pain worse because...

    But this wasn¡¯t the time to keep his eyes closed!

    Maybe the students would manage to stand up to Todoroki?

    While his double was left frozen on the floor, the real blue-haired boy landed on the roof of another building¡ªclearly waiting for something. Some signal? Or waiting for the opponents to approach his partner? Hmm...

    All Might was intrigued as he realized he didn¡¯t understand his first-year student¡¯s plan. That was both alarming, surprising, and exciting all at once.

    At that moment, Kirishima, bouncing with excitement, and Todoroki, calm as ever, finally reached the top floor.

    "I see you weren¡¯t in too much of a rush," came a mocking voice from "Niren." He stood lazily by the wall. "Someone¡¯s too confident, huh? You took so long, we almost fell asleep waiting for you. Right, Himiko? Himiko?.."

    The boy in the tracksuit looked around, then shrugged in disappointment:

    "Tsk, seems like she really couldn¡¯t wait for you. What a pity¡­ I mean, how can you treat a lady like this? Don¡¯t you guys feel ashamed?"

    The resemblance was absolute.

    There was a soft whisper from Setsuna:

    "Can she act like that? I¡¯d never be able to tell the difference... Yui, Yui, are you seeing this? That Niren isn¡¯t Niren at all, it¡¯s Toga!"

    A heavy sigh followed.

    "Yes, I know, Setsuna."

    "I knew it too!"

    "I knew you could break free from the ice!" exclaimed Eijiro on the screen, eagerly punching his fist into his palm. "You''re strong, I¡¯ve seen it! I was hoping..."

    "Wait," interrupted Shoto. He carefully examined the frozen figure in the middle of the floor and said, "Look at the form. That¡¯s not him. It¡¯s a girl, Himiko Toga."

    Kirishima¡¯s eyes went wide:

    "Wait, wait, how does that...?"

    "I¡¯m not in a hurry," came the lazy reply from the "blue-haired" boy, pointing to his frozen feet.

    Toshinori¡¯s eyes widened as he spotted the real Niren swiftly flying back on another screen. It seemed he¡¯d figured out what the ¡°villains¡± were planning. But how?..

    Shoto ignored Himiko''s remark and continued:

    "Apparently, her Quirk is disguise, and while she¡¯s distracting us, the real one is hiding somewhere." As he said this, he surrounded himself with icy spikes. "But that doesn¡¯t matter..."

    "You shouldn¡¯t be so sure of yourself," the fake "Niren" shook his head. "Humility would suit you better. I would¡¯ve shown you, but my legs are frozen... I could use a blanket..."

    "...because to win this match, all I have to do is touch the rocket," Todoroki said, stepping forward, completely disregarding the double. "And they won¡¯t be able to stop me."

    In the next moment, a dark-armored figure flew through the open window like a bird, sending a surprised Kirishima crashing into the nearest wall.

    And then, a targeted blast from the real Shoda¡¯s kick sent Todoroki skidding backward, shattering the icy spikes. Endeavor''s son didn¡¯t fall, catching himself with ice¡ªbut as a result, he slid into the doorway, briefly disappearing from sight.

    "Surprise," said both "Nirens" in unison.

    ***

    Niren.

    That redhead felt like a red brick wall, damn it.

    Why did I attack him first instead of the colorful ice cream?

    First of all, because the marker was only on him, and I knew his exact position in space. Trying to "feel out" Todoroki, cold in every sense, would have been too suspicious, especially right before the practice match.

    Second, because I doubted that I could catch him off guard so easily. The Endeavor''s son has been trained most of his life, much like me. It wouldn¡¯t be enough just to surprise him; he¡¯d have to consciously lower his guard on his own. In this case, it was better to take out the less dangerous opponent first, leaving him outnumbered for us to finish together.

    Third, it was all about psychology. A trained Todoroki would try to evade the hit, dodge, block, or counterattack... but Kirishima? His quirk is purely defensive. Very good at defense, actually. So he¡¯s most likely used to facing any attack head-on, so to speak. Seriously, why bother dodging when you¡¯ll come out unharmed just by standing still and activating your defense?

    So, in short, I had a much better chance of landing a hit on him.

    And I did.

    Plus, I wanted to see how my strength would fare against this local version of the Terminator.

    Kirishima can harden his entire body, even his hair, to the hardness of metal, maybe even tougher. And I''d love to think this is a rare case, but no¡ªmany of my future opponents will have similar abilities. It would be sad to face such an enemy unprepared...

    Luckily, I am prepared for such enemies!

    What can you do against someone so armored?

    Actually, a lot.

    The simplest option would have been to just throw him out the window¡ªeasy enough in a surprise attack. But it was a bit too high, and I wasn¡¯t sure of the limits of his quirk or if Kirishima could maintain his Hardening during such a fall. Too risky.

    And honestly, I like Eijiro as a person¡ªgenuine, positive, and¡­ well, solid.

    So, I chose to slam him into the wall and test out a move I specifically designed for hardened opponents. The ¡°Nirengeki Mengele,¡± so to speak.

    Not paying attention to Todoroki¡ªfor the next few seconds, I needed to make as much noise as possible, both to keep him from simply walking over to the rocket and grabbing it, and to keep his eyes off Toga¡ªI rushed toward Kirishima, creating small explosions with every step.

    Somehow, this half-genius didn¡¯t just cover the concrete floor in ice; he made it extremely "sticky," freezing anything that touched it. Any step could be my last. So, I activated weakened markers on my soles upon each step, preventing the ice from sticking while speeding up my run.

    And I attacked.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    Eijiro Kirishima¡ªone of the most likable characters and the best bro in the fandom (officially (not really)).

    A probable depiction of Niren¡¯s half-mask respirator (which he, by the way, isn¡¯t using in this fight).

    With glasses deployed to protect his eyes from the wind.

    And a little bit of Himiko for good mood :)

    By the way, it¡¯s the last time we¡¯ll see her in her school uniform! Niren was absolutely outraged by her superhero costume!

    This is how the observation takes place.

    And this "hostage" is being protected by the "villains." In a way, all the roles here are completely reversed.

    <u>Author''s Note:</u>

    Sorry for missing the upload day; I got caught up in various projects this weekend, namely coding, working on other books, and some other stuff. Also, I think my notebook is starting to¡­ die, maybe? The Ctrl button fell off, it froze once, and it lost its internet connection a few times. So, I had a few tough days but kept fighting through the obstacles, and here we are¡ªme and new chapters for all of you. Thank you! :)

 Episode 12. Part VI.

    My plan was based on speed. In a prolonged fight with Todoroki, neither Toga nor, probably, even I could last. Maybe not even with delayed remote markers, and even considering that I¡¯m stronger in defense.

    There¡¯s just too much raw power in Shoto Todoroki, the eugenically bred heir of the pro-hero dynasty of Endeavor. And he¡¯s even scarier in close quarters.

    That¡¯s why I wanted to take out his armored partner as quickly as possible and then, together with Himiko, handle the two-toned one.

    Jumping toward Kirishima, I didn¡¯t punch him in the stomach, throw him against the wall, or spin-kick him in the head like in a cheap action movie. If I did, he might overpower me ¡ª I¡¯m the "villain" after all...

    No, spreading my arms wide, I even slowed down and waited for a moment until he got up on all fours and raised his head.

    Then, I slammed my open palms against his reinforced head with force, hitting both sides at once. Right on the ears. And amplified it.

    After a short ¡°boom,¡± Kirishima shook his head and jumped to his feet, setting up a block. Considering his impressive physical condition, which rivaled mine, it looked pretty intimidating.

    Then Eijiro loudly and dramatically said:

    ¡°Nice try, but that won¡¯t work on me!¡± He raised his fist, forgetting about his block (although he didn¡¯t need it ¡ª he was fully unbreakable and solid). ¡°I want an honorable fight! Like a man with¡­ a man¡­¡±

    Then the guy swayed, staring at me with a hazy look. He staggered sideways. Tried to raise his fist again, but faltered. Pressed his hand to his forehead. Swayed again...

    ¡°What¡­ what did you¡­ I¡¯m feeling¡­ not so good¡­¡±

    At that moment, I was curiously examining the smears and fragments of something red on my gloves. It definitely wasn¡¯t blood ¡ª I wasn¡¯t sure of Kirishima¡¯s limits, but I had tried not to go overboard and avoided tearing his eardrums. So I asked:

    ¡°Are you dyeing your hair or something?¡±

    He does dye his hair bright red! And now look at my hair ¡ª it¡¯s bright blue! And yet, I¡¯m on a horse completely natural. In every sense. Not because of, but in spite of it!

    Instead of answering, Kirishima grimaced and collapsed onto all fours, clutching his head and muttering curses under his breath. He tried to crawl away, but instead bumped his armored forehead against the concrete. The curses became louder.

    From what Kirishima himself had told us, his Quirk reinforces his skin.

    This leads to two key conclusions.

    First ¡ª he probably doesn¡¯t become significantly heavier when using his Quirk. Which means, I can do this...

    Grabbing him by the straps of his exhibitionist costume, I yanked Eijiro to his feet and spun around a few times, twirling him like a makeshift centrifuge. Then I pushed him and, without much sympathy, kicked him in the chest, using an amplified strike to send his body rolling into the nearest staircase gap like a billiard ball into a pocket.

    Eijiro tumbled down the stairs with a cheerful clatter of armor and curses.

    Good, now he¡¯s out of the way.

    It seemed like if I hadn¡¯t been wearing armored gloves, I might have cut myself. He doesn¡¯t just become hard, he gets kind of spiky, too.

    And the next second¡­

    I was almost impaled on a giant ice fang, like a butterfly on a pin.

    I barely dodged, noticing the movement out of the corner of my eye ¡ª I had been delayed with Kirishima, thinking I¡¯d finish faster.

    Shoving myself sideways, I dashed toward the nearest window.

    I almost stuck to the floor.

    Step, step, another step.

    Behind me, there was a crashing noise, definitely something icy and deadly.

    The window. Jump.

    Todoroki decided to step in and help his teammate, which was to be expected from students of the hero course. I had anticipated it. But he was too late.

    I wasn¡¯t too worried about Endeavor''s son going straight for the rocket ¡ª I had prepared a trap near it. Specifically, I¡¯d ¡°drawn¡± a circle on the floor and punched several dozen holes around the perimeter with amplified finger jabs. According to my calculations, even with ice covering the area, the trap should work, and if Todoroki stepped there, he would fall through to the floor below. That would delay him for a good ten seconds, I thought.

    And Toga, who couldn¡¯t leave the hall, would let me know if things went wrong.

    The main thing now was for her to have enough time...

    I shattered the window frame and fell down in a shower of glass.

    A huge ice mass soared over my head.

    Next, swing both hands clockwise, push while turning, face the wall. For a millisecond, I hung in the air. One, two... cover my face with my hands, push off with impulses from my legs, roll into the window on the lower floor.

    A roll, a marker on my back, markers on my legs... a clap, markers on my hands, now I¡¯m armed and ready for battle...

    Right. Staying on the same floor didn¡¯t work, so it''s time for plan "B."

    I ran. The ice, by the way, had stopped being ¡°sticky,¡± turning into ordinary, not even particularly slippery ice, so I didn¡¯t need to use micro-explosions.

    Alright, I¡¯m in place. Slightly to the side¡­ took up position a couple of meters from the point directly under the rocket, staring tensely at the ceiling.

    Where¡¯s Kirishima¡­ still can¡¯t climb the stairs, good.

    The floor plans align, I know where the rocket is, I can even see its nose from here. There was no direct passage from this platform on the plan ¡ª but I made one myself by punching a hole in the floor right behind the rocket before the match began.

    Come on¡­ come on¡­

    Toga¡¯s voice, well, my voice, rasped in the earpiece:

    ¡°Damn¡­ I almost reached¡­¡±

    Perfect.

    Jumping up, I carefully and, most importantly, quietly climbed back through the hole to the upper floor. The ice could betray me with a creak, so I had to avoid sudden movements.

    ¡°I apologize,¡± Todoroki said.

    Judging by the voice, he was right there¡­ I carefully peeked out from behind the weapon, immediately ducking back. Yep, Toga was frozen in a whole small iceberg, with only my head sticking out. Todoroki was standing with his back to me about ten meters away. Oh, you clever girl! I¡¯ll buy you a candy¡­ I mean, I¡¯ll give you some blood.

    From behind the rocket, I could see almost nothing, but I was impossible to spot from the hall either. Which was just as well, because the stupid bright blue lines on my armor made me very easy to spot. The switch started acting up after all my jumps.

    The room where our weapon was stored was divided by several columns and a couple of unfinished walls¡­ which is what part of my plan was based on. Otherwise, I would have had to ¡°freeze¡± Himiko earlier in the hallway, and it would have been harder for her to move due to the ice covering everything.

    The ice cracked. Todoroki was approaching me.

    ¡°It¡¯s just the difference¡­¡±

    I wondered if the trap would trigger on its own.

    ¡°¡­ between our¡­¡±

    A little more¡­ No, it doesn¡¯t seem like it¡¯ll work, he should have fallen through by now.

    ¡°¡­abilities¡­¡±

    Oh well, I¡¯m not one to put all my eggs in one basket. I bent my knees.

    ¡°¡­was too¡­ big¡­ huh?¡±

    Launching myself with an impulse from behind the rocket, I changed my trajectory mid-air using the markers on my hands and delivered a spinning kick to Todoroki.

    He even managed to notice my movement ¡ª but it¡¯s hard to block a strike with the force of dozens of regular punches when the floor beneath you is collapsing, right?

    The concrete floor, which I had weakened in many places with my strikes, couldn¡¯t withstand Shoto¡¯s weight, multiplied by my full-strength kick ¡ª a maximum amplified strike.

    Skadoosh!

    And Todoroki, wide-eyed, fell down along with a couple of meters of concrete slabs, which shattered into rubble.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Boom!

    ...

    BOOM!

    Uh-oh, he went through another floor¡­

    Wasting no time, I threw myself down, diving with one marker towards the pile of debris and braking with another ¡ª intending to add a couple of finishing blows to Todoroki, but it turned out that wasn¡¯t necessary: the guy was almost unconscious, half-buried in the rubble, barely moving.

    His stupid hero costume, which was half ice, was cracked and falling apart, while his fancy white uniform with some suspenders had turned completely gray. Man, without his calm arrogance, he still looks like just a kid¡­

    Hmm. Either I overestimated Todoroki¡¯s body toughness, which, in theory, should have been as durable as tungsten and inhumanly strong, or I underestimated my own strength¡­

    Or I just got lucky. Yeah, I¡¯ll go with that.

    The guy groaned and tried to stand, slightly lifting a piece of concrete slab weighing half as much as me, which had fallen on top of him.

    And which I happened to be standing on (oops, awkward).

    All I could do was snort: yeah, I overestimated his toughness, uh-huh. He didn¡¯t even need a Quirk, he was trying to take my punch on a hard block, for crying out loud.

    "Not so fast, Junior Endeavor," I said, pulling out the thin white ribbon they gave us as an alternative to beating up our classmates ¡ª just tie it around your opponent, and they¡¯re supposed to surrender ¡ª and quickly wrapped it around his arms and head.

    Then I jumped and soared upward ¡ª the fight wasn¡¯t over yet, as Kirishima had reached our floor, according to the marker.

    ¡­however, when I zipped through the double hole with an impulse from my back ¡ª armor is an amazing thing, you almost don¡¯t feel the marker! ¡ª Kirishima was just sitting by the wall, noisily and manfully emptying his stomach.

    Next to him, crouching, was Toga, back in her usual girl-like appearance and even dressed here and there, and she was enthusiastically poking the suffering Eijiro with her sharp tube. The vomiting clearly didn¡¯t bother her.

    Then she lifted her head, and a bright smile lit up her face:

    ¡°I¡¯m ¡®poking him in the side,¡¯ just like you said! Niren, you¡¯re so cool!¡±

    Then she frowned:

    ¡°But he¡¯s not really pokable¡­ he¡¯s kind of stiff.¡±

    Kirishima snorted.

    Following some unknown impulse, I carefully placed my hand on her head. What to do next was entirely unclear, but don¡¯t they do this in anime for some reason? And after all, I am Japanese now¡­ so, yeah?

    ¡°Enough, Himiko. Can¡¯t you see he¡¯s already in bad shape?¡±

    She didn¡¯t object to my hand at all, just looking up at me like a little owl from under it:

    ¡°But you promised¡­¡±

    I sighed and leaned down:

    ¡°Then let¡¯s take him with us. As a trophy. What do you say, Eijiro, are you okay with being a trophy? In the future, you might have to... give a blood sample, so to speak. But donating blood is good! It not only helps save lives, in this particular case ¡ª one very specific and cheeky life ¡ª but it¡¯s also good for your own body, as it boosts cellular regeneration¡­¡±

    As I helped the guy get to his feet, chatting away and releasing the tension, finally, our spectators spoke up:

    ¡°¡­victory goes to the villains,¡± announced All Might hesitantly.

    ¡°Niren, Niren,¡± someone tugged on my sleeve, ¡°all my clothes are covered in ice and soaked, I¡¯m freezing :(¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s hurry and get out of here!¡±

    ¡°No, I want blood.¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    ***

    Toshinori.

    When the real Niren Shoda burst into the hall like a dark comet, everyone held their breath. Most probably thought he would try to free the girl¡­

    But Toshinori already understood that he definitely would NOT do that. The place where she was frozen wasn¡¯t random, but precisely calculated: she stood on one side of an unfinished wall of the floor, while the rocket was on the other. If he were near the rocket, the opponent wouldn¡¯t have been able to see Toga.

    This meant she was supposed to free herself at some point. On her own. But why? And how exactly? All Might didn¡¯t yet understand what their plan was based on, but watching it unfold was becoming more and more interesting.

    Meanwhile, young Shoda attacked Kirishima, and instead of direct blows, he first performed a double strike to the ears and then picked him up under the arms and started spinning him on the spot.

    Toshinori nodded to himself. Brutal, inhumane, and not the most optimal choice, but definitely one of the few effective techniques against the hardening Quirk of the red-haired student.

    ¡°What is he doing?¡± Denki Kaminari asked in confusion. ¡°Why is he spinning Kirishima like on a carousel?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a carousel,¡± answered Momo Yaoyorozu. ¡°It¡¯s a centrifuge. He¡¯s probably exploiting the fact that Kirishima¡¯s internal organs, like his brain, eardrums, and vestibular system, are less protected by his Hardening. First, he hit him in the ears, and with his Quirk, that¡¯s equivalent to a mild concussion ¡ª disorientation, loss of balance, possibly nausea, weakness. And then the centrifuge, which is used by astronauts to train their vestibular systems. Dizziness, loss of balance, and again, nausea.¡±

    The girl did well! Toshinori thought. She explained far more than he had expected. Perhaps even more than he himself would have said. Ahem.

    ¡°Ow, ouch, ugh,¡± came a chorus of exclamations when Niren sent Eijiro tumbling down the stairs, where he tried to stand, took a couple of steps, and then vomited onto the steps.

    Meanwhile, Niren narrowly dodged an ice attack from Todoroki, who had come to rescue his comrade¡­ and jumped out of the window again, only to jump back into the building a few seconds later, a floor below.

    ¡°Wow, he¡¯s like a parkour artist!¡± exclaimed Hanta Sero, to which Yui Kodai quietly chuckled.

    ¡°Hey, look at Toga!¡± suddenly shouted Mina Ashido, and everyone looked at¡­

    The girl, taking advantage of Todoroki being distracted by Niren on the other side of the floor, activated her Quirk ¡ª Transformation.

    From Himiko¡¯s skin, the thick, matte gray liquid that formed Niren Shoda¡¯s appearance began to melt off. Strangely enough, it didn¡¯t freeze upon contact with Shoto¡¯s ice ¡ª on the contrary, it helped her escape the icy prison and leap onto a patch of ice-free concrete ¡ª the very spot where her partner had attacked the "heroes."

    Since the girl was naked, Toshinori was about to call upon the moral principles of the young male heroes in the class ¡ª but Himiko immediately used her Quirk again¡­

    ¡­turning into Niren once more¡­

    This time ¡ª in armor.

    So that¡¯s what¡¯s going on!

    Having transformed, she hid near the villains¡¯ nuclear weapon.

    Young Todoroki, having lost track of Niren and not finding Kirishima, who was currently struggling to climb the stairs, holding onto the railing, made the only logical and simple decision ¡ª to finish the match.

    He had almost reached the rocket¡­

    And Toga attacked him, whom he immediately caught in an ice trap.

    ¡°Look here,¡± Ochaco Uraraka called out in a whisper for some reason, pointing to the fifth screen, which clearly showed the real Niren waiting in ambush right behind the nuclear weapon.

    A few girls covered their mouths.

    Setsuna Tokage grinned mischievously.

    Then came a strike so powerful that it was hard not to compare it to Midoriya¡¯s earlier uppercut.

    Amazing!

    Toshinori smiled even wider: what a talented group! What a promising course! How lucky young Mi¡­do¡­

    ¡°Okay, young gentlemen! Don¡¯t look!¡± All Might said, stretching out to his full height and blocking the monitor where Toga had used her Transformation again to slip out of the ice trap like a snake and began dressing herself in the hidden clothes. All Might consciously looked more comical than serious.

    To be honest, the winners at the end of the battle looked all too convincing as villains.

    ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ over yet¡­ I¡¯ll show you¡­ how a real man fights, like¡­¡± groaned the unfortunate young Kirishima, sliding on the ice, as he finally reached the floor. Only to collapse from another bout of nausea near the exit, where he fell, exhausted ¡ª while young Toga moved in to torment him once again.

    And among the rubble two floors below, young Todoroki was trying to stand but couldn¡¯t because his hands were still bound by the white ribbon...

    ¡°They¡¯re terrifying, ribbit,¡± concluded Tsuyu Asui.

    ***

    Niren.

    I made two conclusions about Kirishima¡¯s Quirk.

    The first ¡ª about his weight while using Hardening.

    And the second was that his internal organs must not be as well-protected as if, say, he turned all his organs and tissues into steel. If something as crazy as Colossus from X-Men exists in this insane world.

    Of course, to some degree, his Quirk must strengthen and protect his internal organs, otherwise any powerful blow to Eijiro would turn his insides into mush under a crispy crust.

    However, every defense must have its strengths and weaknesses, and this was his.

    I had spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to deal with armored opponents like him, and my best solution was: attack in such a way that most of the damage goes inside the body.

    For example, causing a concussion, rupturing eardrums, a burst spleen, or tearing an aorta, disrupting the balance organ... lots of options.

    On one hand, I hoped Kirishima would feel better soon¡­ but on the other, I was proud that my assumptions were more than justified.

    But I was even more pleased with Himiko¡¯s success, or rather, the fact that my ideas about using her abilities ¡ª worked!

    First of all, this ¡°slime¡± (it would be nice to come up with a proper term for this odorless goo, but all the associations that come to mind are too indecent) definitely has protective properties! This week, I managed to determine through experiments that it doesn¡¯t dissolve in water ¡ª it¡¯s oily, doesn¡¯t mix; doesn¡¯t burn; and doesn¡¯t freeze in the freezer (yeah, I conducted this experiment right in the dorm, as I did with all the others, actually).

    So I hypothesized that the slime¡­ no. Let''s call it ¡°protein,¡± like in an egg? After all, Toga essentially re-hatches each time. In any case, I figured she could escape from the ice thanks to the oily protein, which doesn¡¯t freeze, and the reduction in her body¡¯s growth and size. And that¡¯s what happened.

    And if it hadn¡¯t, she would have let me know through the microphone, and I would have come up with something else, like pulling her out from the floor below ¡ª after all, I had a marker on Himiko, even more than one! I watch her and update it every day¡­

    Wait, are we stalking each other? Ugh.

    But the highlight of my plan was the curious and seemingly useless aspect of Toga¡¯s Quirk.

    Interacting with her daily in the dorm this week, I was also forced to see my own face from the outside every day.

    And at one point, I realized with surprise that Toga, after drinking my blood, does NOT look like how I look today ¡ª no, she looks like I did yesterday, wearing different clothes.

    That¡¯s when I realized she doesn¡¯t just transform into different people ¡ª no, she can transform into different versions of the same people!

    Moreover, the transformation mechanism isn¡¯t tied to genetic material: otherwise, she wouldn¡¯t be able to replicate clothes, let alone different ones for the same person. No, the information for the transformation is tied to something other than blood¡­ and maybe that ¡°something¡± holds the key to curing Toga of her blood dependence.

    And then it was simple: knowing these two non-obvious properties of her Quirk, I figured out that we could confuse Todoroki. On one hand, he¡¯s a smart guy, who surely understood what Toga¡¯s Quirk was ¡ª after all, he lives on our floor. On the other hand, he¡¯s the recognized and adored genius, who expects others to simply be ¡°on a different level.¡± Arrogant, in other words.

    That needed to be used.

    By showing Shoto me-Himiko in my gym uniform, we gave him the chance to draw his own conclusions ¡ª and thanks to that, he decided he had figured out our ¡°cunning¡± plan, which was actually dumb and primitive, but refer to the point about ¡°level¡±!

    Then, by positioning Himiko and the rocket so that heading towards the rocket, he couldn¡¯t see her (and assumed she would stay in place since where would she go without her Quirk or combat abilities), he was supposed to face ¡°me¡± ¡ª and win.

    After all, Niren in gym clothes was Himiko, and Niren in armor was Niren.

    And if you see Niren in armor, well¡­ capture him ¡ª and you win the fight.

    And if you win the fight ¡ª you can relax, because you¡¯re in full control of the situation, genius Shoto Todoroki, right?

    Well, Shoto relaxed in a refreshing bath of concrete shards.

    Time to start my own private business: ¡°Feeling like a superstar? We¡¯ll bring you back down!¡±

    ¡­ just make sure I don¡¯t end up as the client.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    Shoto Todoroki freezes an entire building<u>.</u>

    Scary.

    And condescending, which is what cost him.

    Yes, yes, he¡¯s so terrifying and unbeatable that in the original, they gave him two of the most harmless heroes as opponents (the invisible girl and Tail) from the canonical Class 1-A, right. In fact, I can''t even say the same about them in the fic.

    They let her poke Kirishima ( ?¡ã ?? ?¡ã)

    <u>Author''s Note:</u>

    I made a voting for the second fic¡¯s fandom, which is open to everyone on the other platform I post on. I¡¯ve recently started working on three different worlds, so you¡¯re more than welcome to stop by and share your thoughts. Thank you! :)

 Episode 13. "Flora and fauna". Part I.

    The aftermath of our fight wasn¡¯t the most destructive ¨C no one can outdo the protagonist of an anime and his main rival in that regard! ¨C but it was still serious. As it turned out, my punch broke Todoroki¡¯s arm. Plus, both he and Kirishima ended up with concussions ¨C fortunately, minor ones ¨C and I think Toga caught a cold and went off to take a hot shower. And of course, we all got some bruises, naturally.

    The frozen building, with all its various damages, remained standing, slowly thawing ¨C All Might said that the robots would fix everything.

    Then he quickly ran off somewhere, and I even suspected I knew why.

    No, it wasn¡¯t to check on poor Midoriya ¨C he had just run out of time he could spend in his combat form.

    And that¡¯s terrifying.

    And a very questionable decision.

    Think about it: the world¡¯s strongest combat unit, the best rescuer in the world, gives up his combat hours to teach kids who won¡¯t replace him for a long time, if ever. How long can he operate each day after his injury? Two hours? Three? And all that time is spent maintaining the illusion that keeps the world in order. But the moment a catastrophe happens¡­

    I tried to push those thoughts out of my head. Doing more than I already am is simply impossible. Unless I march into Nezu¡¯s office and declare that I¡¯m a reincarnator and know what¡¯s going to happen in a couple of weeks.

    But ¨C I still don¡¯t know who the traitor is. Damn it. Walking in circles again.

    And besides, there¡¯s always a chance they¡¯d lock me up in a psych ward for such a stunt. Or dissect me for experiments. I don¡¯t trust the governments that maintain order in countries filled with superhumans and monsters.

    ¡°The world¡¯s spinning, I can¡¯t walk straight,¡± complained Kirishima, whom Iida and I were supporting by the arms as we headed to the infirmary, following the cart carrying poor Frosty, who got it worse. Shoto was avoiding looking in my direction, clearly processing the fact that my punch had prevented him from finishing that phrase about the difference in our abilities.

    Oh, right. Symbol of Peace had assigned me to help the guys.

    There were four of us heading to the infirmary today ¨C Iida¡¯s armor turned out to be more for show than functional, and as a result, he got tangled in some wire and ended up with several painful scratches.

    ¡°That happens with concussions. Sorry if I went overboard,¡± I tried to smooth things over with Eijiro. He¡¯s a nice and friendly guy, a true example of what a hero should be, judging by character, so I wanted to have a good relationship with him. However, we hadn¡¯t talked much this past week, as Kirishima had immediately teamed up with Sero and Kaminari, while I had gotten caught up with the girls and Midoriya. ¡°I didn¡¯t find another way to knock you out.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he tried to smile, but stumbled again and winced. ¡°It hurts to admit it, but I think it was pretty cool.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± I raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised by his open-mindedness and level-headedness. ¡°I thought you¡¯d say something like¡­ ¡®What kind of man uses such a cheap trick?¡¯¡±

    The red-haired guy chuckled and clenched his fist:

    ¡°No, on the contrary. It was a smart move, and now I know my¡­ weakness. Ugh, my head¡­¡±

    Iida was silently walking beside us, holding his helmet under his arm and listening to our conversation. His behavior didn¡¯t quite fit the image I had of him, so I wasn¡¯t sure what to think, and in the end, I let it go. It would be interesting to ask about the dyed hair, but maybe it¡¯s not the time with others around. I decided to be tactful and compliment the redhead instead:

    ¡°Look at it this way ¨C it¡¯s a recognition of your strength. I knew I couldn¡¯t beat you without using some tricks.¡±

    ¡°Heh-heh, thanks¡­ And how did you beat Todoroki? I missed that part.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right, let me tell you¡­¡±

    And I did. And it seemed to me that Shoto himself was the most attentive listener.

    It¡¯s truly wonderful to deal with people who care! Who strive to grow and become stronger, who try hard, who learn! How sick I was of the kids at school, many of whom had quirks that were simpler and more versatile than mine or Yui¡¯s, but were too lazy to even think about it!

    In the infirmary, we created quite the crowd, and with Midoriya already unconscious there, I decided to come back for a new batch of syringes (Toga is just Toga) tomorrow.

    Before the grumpy Recovery Girl ¨C who, strangely enough, turned out to be quite the tsundere, considering her wise-grandma image ¨C started scolding me as the cause of half the injuries, I tactfully slipped away.

    And I was planning to head home to grab my stuff, as it was the last class of the day.

    I was really hungry.

    But then I thought about having to cook something in the dorm¡­ sharing the kitchen on the first floor¡­ and I didn¡¯t have any groceries, so I¡¯d have to go shopping first¡­ and I was dirty and sweaty like a devil, so I¡¯d need to shower¡­ and I had to pack my armor, which was in the classroom, but the case was in the locker room at the Center¡­ and then there¡¯d be Himeko bothering me in the dorm again¡­ and Setsuna probably flying in to show me some meme or funny video¡­ ugh.

    In short, the introvert in me won, and I had an overwhelming desire to be alone.

    I¡¯d socialized enough with people today to maintain and develop useful social connections, so I think I can allow myself this weakness.

    Yawning, I said to hell with it, dashed into the empty locker room of our class in the main building, stuffed my armor into my locker, and headed to the cafeteria.

    ***

    The regulations for hero costumes were somewhat contradictory. On the one hand, we were strictly forbidden from taking them outside the Academy grounds, bringing them to the dorms, or wearing them in cafeterias, and so on. It made sense ¨C even Bakugo¡¯s gauntlets were literally deadly to those around him.

    On the other hand, Nezu and company understood better than anyone that training heroes inherently involved danger and risk. Therefore, within the school, they turned a blind eye to certain things: as long as you didn¡¯t activate anything when you shouldn¡¯t, didn¡¯t cause problems, and packed your gear into your personalized case at night, everything was fine.

    So, I decided to have a proper meal¡­ maybe even splurge a little, considering I¡¯d just taken down the son of Endeavor, and there weren¡¯t a dozen do-gooders around that I had to share with.

    Yes, I¡¯ll take that, and that too, and I¡¯ll have two of these, no, three!

    After piling up a whole mountain of tasty treats like octopus and tempura, I heaved a sigh, grabbed the tray, and started looking around for a good spot. Preferably by the window and in the corner.

    I love my classmates. I enjoy Yui¡¯s company, I like discussing things with Izuku, it¡¯s fun to banter with Tsuna, and even Himeko looks quite cute sometimes. Mashirao, by the way, I should probably go visit him sometime.

    But occasionally, I just want to be alone, and...

    ¡°Excuse me, you¡¯re¡­ Niren, right? Is this seat free? Would you mind if I joined you¡­ if that¡¯s okay, of course?¡± A quiet voice called out. Soft, high-pitched ¨C the kind they describe here as ¡°kawaii.¡± A female voice.

    Sighing, I turned my head and saw a vaguely familiar girl with pink hair calling to me. Oh yeah, it¡¯s her, the one who tried to stop Toga and me when Toga mistook me for a bento. She¡¯d created some sort of cloud between us.

    ¡°Hi?¡±

    ¡°Hi¡­¡±

    I nodded and sat down at the table with her ¨C in the corner and by the window, just as I¡¯d wanted ¨C and gave the girl a questioning look. Technically, she was my senior, a second- or third-year student.

    ¡°I wanted to ask if everything is alright with that girl¡­ the one you had a conflict with?¡± she asked, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.

    ¡°Ah¡­ yeah, Toga¡¯s doing fine. We¡¯re now neighbors on the same floor,¡± I shrugged, feeling the need to add, ¡°She¡¯s a normal girl¡­ well, as normal as you can be in this crazy world, if you know what I mean.¡±

    I gestured vaguely with my chopsticks, simultaneously sizing up a fried shrimp.

    ¡°Oh,¡± the girl¡¯s eyes slowly widened, apparently surprised, and I noticed that her gray eyes had unusual pupils ¨C white and shaped like snowflakes. ¡°I¡¯m glad she¡¯s alright. Sorry if I intervened unnecessarily, I just wanted to help¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I nodded, contemplating how best to dip the sashimi into the soy sauce, wasabi, and that delicious cream they gave with the tempura, without leaving all the rice in the wooden dishes. Honestly, whoever invented chopsticks was a true genius ¨C such a refined form of torment¡­ ¡°Thanks for your help.¡±

    The pink-haired girl blushed slightly and nodded.

    Then she yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. She pushed aside her tiny bowl that had held a small biscuit ¨C seriously, it was so tiny that if there wasn¡¯t half a piece left, I would¡¯ve assumed it was an espresso cup.

    Then, with a slight gesture, she ¡°conjured¡± a small cloud of pale pink fluffy cotton candy, which I had already seen before, right on the table in front of her.

    And with another yawn, she blissfully laid her head on the cloud as if it were a pillow.

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile ¨C it looked so sincere and natural¡­

    ¡°My name¡¯s Fuma,¡± she added sleepily. ¡°Or Mawata, if we become friends, yaaaawn¡­ I usually eat alone at this table, so if you ever need a place, feel free to sit with me¡­¡±

    ¡°Thanks, I¡¯m Niren Shoda.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you, Niren¡­¡±

    ¡°Likewise. Goodnight!¡±

    She smiled a little, closed her eyes, and peacefully drifted off.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    That probably would¡¯ve been the end of our conversation. Possibly forever¡­

    If I hadn¡¯t laughed out loud.

    The girl¡¯s wide gray eyes shot open in surprise, and I had to explain why I was laughing, so I wouldn¡¯t come off as completely socially inept. And I had a lot of explaining to do¡­

    Here¡¯s the thing: in this world, surnames and even first names are often ¡°talking¡± names ¨C kind of like the Kuznetsovs or Blacksmiths from my home reality. Except that while in my world there was a chance that someone¡¯s ancestor really was a blacksmith, here surnames often reflect quirks.

    It¡¯s no secret that quirks can be inherited, though they often undergo unexpected changes. And since there were large geopolitical upheavals about a century ago, many people lost their documents, passports, and even citizenship in several countries. Some nations I knew of ceased to exist entirely ¨C for example, Spain no longer existed, replaced by Catalonia.

    As a result, many people got new names and surnames, often following the principle of ¡°what I see is what I name.¡± If they saw horns ¨C ¡°Horned,¡± if they saw fire ¨C ¡°Flaming,¡± and so on. This especially affected Japan and China with their ideographic scripts, which allow for a dozen meanings to be packed into the same squiggles.

    For instance, the surname ¡°Bakugo,¡± when written in kanji ¨C the adapted Chinese symbols used in Japanese writing ¨C consists of ¡°Baku,¡± meaning ¡°bomb,¡± and ¡°Go,¡± meaning ¡°strong.¡± Surely one of his parents had an inherited quirk involving explosions.

    Or take Todoroki ¨C his surname literally means ¡°roaring fire.¡± And more than that! His given name was also descriptive ¨C ¡°Sho¡± means ¡°burning,¡± ¡°To¡± means ¡°freezing.¡± A very obvious hint that his birth was planned through eugenic selection for the best lineage ¨C so-called quirk marriages, which are now outlawed, but still happen, even though everyone understands the implications.

    Okay, all of that is interesting, or maybe not, but what actually made me laugh?

    And here¡¯s the thing: from my neighbor Mawata Fuma¡¯s name, you could also deduce something about her quirk. In this case, it¡¯s her first name that¡¯s the clue. ¡°Ma Wata¡± in Japanese means ¡°pure cotton.¡±

    And her quirk indeed creates some kind of clouds, resembling cotton or fluff.

    In Russian, which I also happen to know (nearly a polyglot, huh), there¡¯s the word ¡°§Ó§Ñ§ä§Ñ¡± (wata), meaning cotton.

    And the number of coincidences was what I found funny. A girl named Wata conjures cotton as her pillow.

    What? Not funny? Well, sit there with sour faces, but it was amusing to me!

    After listening and slowly blinking, Fuma agreed that the coincidence was amusing, marveled at the fact that I knew Russian (¡°just a little,¡± I humbly replied, deciding not to mention the English, German, Spanish, and Chinese I¡¯d picked up, just in case, as a kid), and confirmed that the word ¡®wata¡¯ suited her just fine ¨C since cotton fibers are indeed made from cotton.".

    Mawata explained that her quirk allowed her to create fluffy clouds of varying volume and density at any point within her line of sight. And then, it all depended on her imagination and the task: her cotton cloud could disappear on command, exist for a long time, was difficult to set on fire, and, when denser, could absorb blows quite well. She could also somehow weave ropes out of them and even trap people in them, though I found it hard to imagine.

    ¡°My quirk?... It enhances my punches, yeah, but there are a couple of nuances.¡±

    In the end, we ended up talking quite a bit. Even aside from the fact that she was a pretty and smart girl (who, importantly, wasn¡¯t trying to fall apart or bite a chunk out of me!), I had a ton of topics I could and wanted to discuss with a second-year U.A. student. And she was easy-going.

    For example, I learned how to get to the Hero Support Department. And that every student there designs the costumes for a student from the hero course, and, just like us, they do internships ¨C only not with pro-heroes, but with service companies.

    I also found out that at every sports festival, it¡¯s the first-place student from the entrance exam who delivers a speech to the first-year students.

    Ugh¡­

    After talking to Fuma, I also learned that Aizawa, when setting up his test, had actually lied¡­ about lying regarding the expulsions. In the years of his teaching career, he had expelled around one hundred and fifty students, making it his trademark. And a year before we entered, he expelled an entire class ¨C the previous Class 1-A, now Class 2-A.

    Only to re-enroll them.

    It was Mawata¡¯s class that had been the unlucky group given this extra ¡°motivation,¡± simultaneously driving their nerves to the brink. Were they grateful for it? According to Fuma, her classmates still considered the whole thing insane and treated Aizawa, who was the homeroom teacher for all Class A students in the Hero Department, with cool detachment.

    Anyway, Fuma herself viewed Aizawa¡¯s prank differently: she saw the bigger picture and believed that the experience had pushed them to grow in both abilities and mental discipline. She was even grateful to the sensei ¨C as much as one can be for being expelled from school. But her perspective wasn¡¯t a popular one.

    Oh, and a small aside: it wasn¡¯t necessary for us to talk; it was very comfortable just sitting in silence with her. Some people are like that.

    You know what else? A lot of other people can¡¯t stand silence, they hate pauses in conversation, and as a result, they try to fill these ¡°gaps¡± with awkward, cringe-worthy remarks. ¡°Lovely weather today, isn¡¯t it?¡± Setsuna is one of those people, for example.

    But with Mawata, there were no such issues. Her personality had a kind of dignity and calm composure, which helped her avoid fuss and unnecessary problems.

    I wasn¡¯t surprised when I learned she¡¯d been chosen as the vice-representative, the class vice-president.

    The last and unexpectedly interesting topic we discussed was how students are sorted into classes in the Hero Department:

    ¡°Did they also split you guys up so that students with similar abilities ended up in either ¡®A¡¯ or ¡®B¡¯?¡± I asked curiously.

    Mawata tilted her head to the side:

    ¡°Why do you think that?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s even mentioned on the Academy¡¯s website that students with similar quirks are assigned to different classes to encourage rivalry and to maximize interaction with a variety of quirks. So, isn¡¯t that how it works for you?¡±

    She thought for a moment:

    ¡°It seems to me that there are no two quirks that are exactly the same; they might look similar in some ways, but in other aspects, they¡¯ll be very different. That¡¯s why there isn¡¯t a universally accepted classification of quirks.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯d argue with that,¡± I drawled. ¡°Look, in our Class A and Class B, there are almost identical quirks that were specifically separated into different groups. For example, we have Kirishima, who can harden his body like a rock, and in Class B, there¡¯s a guy who can turn into steel. Pretty much the same power, just looks different. The abilities of my classmate Tokoyami can be compared to those of the recommended student in Class B, Jurota Shishida. Or take my friend Setsuna from Class A and the exchange student Pony Tsunotori from Class B ¨C their powers are very similar.¡±

    ¡°Though, to be fair, in the original timeline, both of them ended up in the same class, and no one seemed to mind,¡± I thought to myself, but I didn¡¯t say it aloud.

    ¡°What are their powers?¡± Fuma asked, intrigued, as she dispelled her cloud-pillow and eagerly returned to her biscuit. Apparently, someone has a sweet tooth.

    ¡°Well, Pony can control her horns. They can fly around. And they grow back.¡±

    ¡°Whoa¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I read about her in an article on international relations ¨C she¡¯s from the USA, but of Japanese-Italian descent. And as for Setsuna¡­¡±

    By the way, who is Jurota Shishida? He¡¯s known as Gevaudan (or Jevodan, in the French manner). He¡¯s the fourth recommended student in our year, who got in through the competition instead of Setsuna.

    I knew about him from an internet article because, for a certain category of enthusiasts (otaku, or nerds, basically), each new batch of students at U.A. is a big deal ¨C after all, one of them might become the next star. Fanboying in this world was alive and well.

    So, Jurota, in addition to his excellent academic scores, had a very powerful quirk that turned him into a huge humanoid beast, a furry Chewbacca-type creature standing about four meters tall. Massive strength, massive endurance, massive speed, and enhanced senses like smell and hearing¡­ Given that this form, as far as I understood, didn¡¯t significantly impair his cognitive abilities, having a classmate like him made me a little nervous, but also a little excited. I kind of wanted to spar with him, honestly.

    Why the name Gevaudan? Because someone had clearly read too many history books, though I have to admit, it¡¯s an interesting reference. A bit too grim for your typical heroics involving pink unicorns and butterflies, though.

    In the eighteenth century, there was a mountainous province in France called Gevaudan, where a man-eating wolf appeared. For a long time, no one could catch it, which led to rumors growing increasingly terrifying ¨C that the wolf was a werewolf, or not a wolf at all but a lion, that it was intelligent, or that dark forces were involved, and that the creature was no beast but a demon¡­

    In the end, this monster became one of the most famous legends in the country¡¯s history, right up there with the story of the Man in the Iron Mask.

    So, props for the reference.

    But personally, I wouldn¡¯t name myself after a bloodthirsty monster said to have devoured more than a hundred people.

    <u>Author''s Note 1:</u>

    Hey folks!

    Guess what? The first chapter of my new "Naruto" fic just dropped, and it¡¯s up on my main platform.

    Earlier, there was a vote with three fandoms for you to pick from, and "Naruto" came out on top, beating "W.I.T.C.H". and "Oshi no Ko". A pretty expected outcome, but hey, it was a fair fight!

    So go check it out, read it, enjoy it, or rip it apart (nicely, please). Either way, I¡¯d love to hear what you think.

    What are you waiting for? Dive in. Drive in! Drive through! Bang through! You¡¯re more than welcome!

    Catch you in the comments!

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    You won¡¯t believe it, but this is Mawata Fuma.

    I¡¯m warning you: she¡¯s an important character in the book.

    At some point, I¡¯ve heard rumors in the English-speaking MHA fandom that she¡¯s important to the plot in the original story as well. Which makes sense ¨C after all, she was given some focus in the anime/manga, despite her brief appearance, and she has a well-developed design.

    However, I have my own plans for her.

    Gevaudan (or Jevaudan ¨C sounds like a derivative of ¡°chew¡±).

    Battle form. Another undeservedly sidelined character who was used purely as a mid-tier opponent for Shinso and Kirishima, even though, in theory, he has enormous potential.

    <u>Author''s Note 2:</u>

    Why were these characters ¡°banned¡± ¨C meaning (mostly) sent to Class B?

    1. Minoru Mineta is just unpleasant to me. He has disgusting habits and a repulsive appearance. His quirk, admittedly, is quite useful and multifunctional, and it will be missed in some places¡­ however, to my relief, there¡¯s Momo in Class A, who is more than capable of compensating for his abilities.

    Although, interestingly, writing about his quirk in the entrance exam would have been fun ¨C it¡¯s really versatile, and maybe some other fanfic author will dare to write something cool about him, in the style of the powers in One Piece.

    What¡¯s also interesting is that the manga author Kohei Horikoshi, in an interview, compared himself to Mineta. So when the anime once again focuses on Mt. Lady¡¯s butt, you¡¯re not imagining things ¨C it¡¯s supposed to be that way.

    2. Koji Koda, as many have correctly noted in the comments, is quite physically strong and resilient thanks to secondary traits inherited from one of his parents¡¯ quirks.

    However, his character is even more timid and indecisive than Izuku was in the early episodes. It¡¯s not about a useless quirk ¨C it¡¯s about what we clearly saw in Midoriya¡¯s case: timid and unsure students can¡¯t score a single point on the exam.

    In short, the only way Koda could pass is if a dozen robots killed themselves by running into him. But in the original, he made it into Class A, so just kicking him out of the plot would be wrong. Besides, he¡¯s supposed to have an Awakening at some point.

    And yes, I have a small-scale mini-plan for him (lol).

    3. Rikido Sato ¨C purely by the process of elimination. If you recall, I previously pushed the concept that students with similar quirks are divided into different classes. The most obvious example is Kirishima and Tetsutetsu. Well, Sato, in fact, is a typical user of an enhancing quirk¡­ supposedly like Midoriya, Niren, and to some extent Iida, who ¡°only knows taijutsu.¡± Not to mention that physical strength is significantly boosted in Todoroki and Bakugo too.

    Also, he¡¯s boring.

    4. Mezo Shoji ¨C because Class B also needs someone OP to maintain balance and intrigue at the sports festival. In my opinion, this character is extremely underrated by the manga¡¯s author since he¡¯s a sensor, a limited metamorph, fast, with absurd physical strength, and inhuman defense as well. As a result, he¡¯s a great opponent for Midoriya and Niren.

    Moreover, he has a genuinely heroic motivation to become a professional hero. For My Hero Academia, a well-developed motivation is rare, in my opinion, so this character is truly valuable.

    Therefore, I decided that in Class B, without having to compete with monsters like Todoroki, he would thrive much better and, at some point, shine brightly enough to attract attention and move closer to his goal.

    What do you think ¨C when will this happen? :)

    5. Our old friend Mashirao Ojiro. To be honest, I didn¡¯t initially plan for this. However¡­ he¡¯s just so¡­ average! Absolutely unremarkable, with whom I couldn¡¯t establish any chemistry or even have a decent dialogue throughout the whole book. He has no interests, no flaws, no standout traits...

    This was even played out in the anime ¨C remember, for example, his room and his classmates¡¯ reaction to its decor. Like, ¡°normality¡± is his thing, but it¡¯s so dull!

    On top of that, his quirk is extremely limited, meaning the only way to make him useful is to give him an Awakening that¡­ what? Turns him into one giant tail?

    In short, Class B is the perfect fit for him.

    At least his dad (OMC) is cool :)

 Episode 13. Part II.

    On Sunday morning, brimming with unhealthy positivity and manic enthusiasm, I stood outside Himiko¡¯s room at five a.m.

    Yes, you heard me right! Because it was time for¡­ experiments! And naturally, "villainous" ones¡ªonce I got a taste for villainy thanks to All Might, I couldn¡¯t stop! Now I¡¯m a miscreant and a rascal! Mwahahaha!

    ...I should probably cut down on coffee.

    It all boiled down to two things.

    First, I simply wanted to study her quirk. I was overcome with the thrill of a researcher! Yui and Setsuna¡¯s quirks were good, versatile, and unusual, but what Himiko had¡­ that was on another level. Full of mysteries and secrets! And when you consider the fact that she¡¯ll be able to copy other people¡¯s powers in the future... phew. Fascinating stuff!

    Second, it had dawned on me just last Saturday evening that due to my meddling with the timeline, actual criminals, murderers, and maniacs would soon attack all these students in the coming weeks. And while many of them could surprisingly hold their own, Toga... well... on one hand, in a sparring match, she¡¯d give even me a run for my money, and she could disguise herself and lay low, so she shouldn''t disappear entirely.

    But on the other hand, she was utterly defenseless! Sure, I vaguely remembered the anime¡¯s plot¡ªwhat good did that do? The first time she ever faced the heroes, she had strong allies covering her! Like that... um¡­ what¡¯s his name... uh¡­ damn.

    Damn it, he¡¯s an important character! Blue fire, black hair, horrible burns, a cloak...

    No, can¡¯t remember. Even squeezing my eyes isn¡¯t helping.

    Fine, we¡¯ll meet¡­ eventually.

    Back to Himiko: she had no proper costume, no way of defending herself, not even techniques. In chaos, cities, schools¡ªyeah, she¡¯s formidable because she loves and practices ambush attacks. But out in the open¡ªwhat would she even do? So, she needed to increase her chances of survival. But first, I had to understand the mechanics of her quirk better and figure out what kind of costume would suit her.

    I knew this was dumb and maybe even dangerous, but I still felt responsible for this girl, who had trusted me.

    Maybe my mom read me too much Exup¨¦ry before bed.

    Some mom, anyway.

    You know, time is a scary thing. I still had a decent grasp of my native language, even though I hadn¡¯t spoken it in fifteen years, but I couldn¡¯t recall the faces of my first parents at all. I couldn¡¯t even imagine them.

    There¡¯s a chance that some part of my memories or personality traits were lost in the process of reincarnation. The phenomenon of retaining an adult¡¯s memory and consciousness in a child¡¯s brain, which didn¡¯t even have a fully formed cortex, still baffled me. I couldn¡¯t grasp how it was possible.

    However, I had a theory that this might be connected to quirks¡ªnot necessarily my good memory, but some kind of space where quirks draw their energy and matter.

    Maybe that¡¯s where my brains are stored, too? And the minds of all those heroes and villains whose bodies don¡¯t seem to have normal brains. Like Cementoss, for example.

    Not a very cheerful thought.

    I knocked on Himiko¡¯s door again.

    She didn¡¯t have a mobile phone (another oversight that needed fixing), but I had warned her yesterday that I would come early.

    So, a sleepy Himiko finally opened the door, and for the second time in my life, I saw her without those buns on her head.

    Mumbling something in greeting and quickly shutting the door, she started tying her hair into the familiar hairstyle, holding some of the hair ties between her teeth. I gave her a suspicious once-over: no magical girl costumes, no school uniforms, no sailor suits¡ªjust regular sportswear. Good.

    I turned and marched ahead, leading us to the stadium. More specifically, to that small field where her knife and I almost got acquainted in a bit more detail.

    Might as well check the stash while we¡¯re there.

    "Why are we going to the sports field, Niren?"

    "You follow your quirk¡¯s lead, but you need to make your quirk follow you. To do that, you need to understand it and know your limits. So, we¡¯re going to figure out how your ¡®Transformation¡¯ works!"

    "Wait, wait, maybe we shouldn¡¯t?"

    "We should, Himiko, we should."

    ***

    There was a lot I was curious about, but time was short.

    First of all, what did we already know about Himiko¡¯s quirk?

    We knew that she could transform into other people and mimic their behavior well. Her clothes would change along with her, and she could recreate not only the target¡¯s appearance but also what they were wearing¡ªwhether it be a swimsuit, a uniform, or even armor (and in the future, even their quirks). The functionality of the fake clothing was partially preserved.

    What does that mean?

    It means that the mechanics of her quirk aren¡¯t based on blood, no matter what people think. If she can copy someone¡¯s clothes by "photographing" them at a specific moment¡ªand clothes obviously don¡¯t carry the wearer¡¯s genetic material (unless it¡¯s a rare hero with a suit made from their own tissues, like Setsuna)¡ªthen this conclusion is obvious.

    Maybe in the future, she could use other "physiological" fluids, as strange as that sounds? Basically, any organic material, like hair? Or even personal items? Tactile contact? Visual?

    We needed to run experiments. But I had a hunch that Toga had some kind of backdoor access to that space where quirks were stored. Maybe through this, she could tap into the attributes of their owners... ugh.

    It¡¯s hard to speculate about something you can¡¯t even imagine. I¡¯d tried searching for scientific papers on the topic, but found nothing even close. Again, strange. Is someone scrubbing this information for some reason? Or am I just clumsy?

    Moving on. Another crucial point¡ªher transformation easily wipes away my markers, even though she doesn¡¯t know they exist.

    What else do we know?

    Her disguise allows her to change height, weight, body build, and even voice. Maybe even body mechanics.

    How is all this possible?

    It seems her body is altered by the quirk factor to a much greater extent than one might think. I¡¯ve already partly confirmed this¡ªHimiko is incredibly, inhumanly flexible, presumably due to enhanced ligaments and hypermobile joints.

    Important note: in ordinary people, such mutations in the body¡ªlike Marfan syndrome, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, and others¡ªoften lead to a reduced life expectancy. Maybe Toga, too...

    No, stop. Without long-term, genuinely scientific studies, not just my on-the-fly musings, it¡¯s impossible to say for sure. However, there¡¯s a chance that part of her body¡¯s tissues regenerate with each use of her quirk. In other words, she might actually live quite a long life.

    Although¡ªwait again! Every person¡¯s cells, or rather, the ends of their DNA chains, have special sequences¡ªtelomeres, which are biological limits on the number of divisions a cell can go through. When a cell divides, the telomere shortens. I can¡¯t see where Toga could get the missing biomass needed for her transformations except from explosive cell division.

    Or from that otherworldly quirk dimension?... Ugh, it¡¯s frustrating...

    One more side note: if the Recovery Girl¡¯s powers, as she told Midoriya and me, activate and stimulate the natural regenerative abilities of the target¡¯s body, doesn¡¯t that mean she¡¯s shortening those telomeres, reducing the number of times a cell can divide, and thus cutting down a person¡¯s lifespan? Hmm¡­ I¡¯ll need to ask her about that and maybe avoid overusing her powers. But that¡¯s for another time.

    What else?

    A very important point: can Toga heal her own injuries by transforming? I don¡¯t know yet, but we absolutely need to test that today.

    Also, does her disguise withstand physical damage¡ªmost likely, no. After relatively minor impacts, her disguise starts to break down. Organs, pieces of clothing, gadgets, and body parts created by her quirk are incomplete¡ªthey don¡¯t have the durability or, let¡¯s say, muscle strength of the originals. From what I¡¯ve gathered, the muscles she mimicked when transforming into me didn¡¯t give her a significant boost in physical power.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Clearly, the gray biomass she generates compensates for the lack of volume. But then what? Does it integrate into her limbs? Let¡¯s not forget, I¡¯m a good third of a meter taller than Himiko. Does the gray mass extend her legs? If that¡¯s the case, what happens if her leg gets hit? Will it pop, like her disguise?

    But no, it wouldn¡¯t pop¡ªshe operated successfully in my form, maintaining both combat readiness and flexibility¡ªshe¡¯d easily outmaneuver me in acrobatics, even in my own appearance. So how, then, does she gain height and shoulder width? Is this explosive cell division creating not only gray slime to mimic clothing and appearance but also growing muscles and bones?

    But that''s a bit absurd. Temporarily increasing the volume of muscle sarcomeres is possible even without a quirk (just ask any gym-goer). It''s a different story, though, to create new myocytes¡ª these cells don¡¯t typically divide, unless they are tumor cells. And then there¡¯s the issue of bone regeneration¡ªit¡¯s possible, but it takes so much time...

    But what am I talking about? I live in a world where the difference between iambic and trochaic meters in poetry class is explained by a block of concrete! Stranger things happen here.

    And why absurd? Recovery Girl''s abilities allow her to heal multiple complicated fractures in a matter of seconds. Simply by accelerating (and, I suspect, improving) cell regeneration.

    So, most likely, Himiko is a regenerator¡ªbut with a switch.

    Speaking of which, her quirk clearly alters body mass. Sure, I could lift her, but the nearly forty-kilogram difference between us was still a nearly forty-kilogram difference. It was like getting two Togas for the price of one. To put it in fun mathematical terms: Himiko to the power of Niren equals Himiko plus Himiko.

    Speaking of one plus one: could Toga transform into a child, significantly reducing her body mass? Again, I don¡¯t know. And where am I supposed to set up that kind of experiment under makeshift conditions... what if she reverted back and ended up as a tiny, child-like Toga? It would be funny, of course, but I¡¯m a hero, not a villain. Should I ask Nezu for help with the research? Or maybe visit that quirk research center where Yui and I have already made a few appearances? Not now.

    What else?

    What exactly is that gray slime, biomass, oatmeal that remains from Himiko¡¯s transformation when she shifts back? Is it pluripotent stem cells that can turn into whatever¡¯s needed for the specific transformation? Are they dead cells, like the cornified layer of skin she ¡°sheds¡±? Or are they not even cells but rather some kind of organic material, like a secretion from her glands, similar to Bakugo¡¯s sweat? Maybe they¡¯re nanomachines¡ªbiobots that know exactly which structures to mimic?

    This is not just complicated, it¡¯s ****ing incomprehensible!

    At this point, I need a microscope. And a lab. And scientific education. And researchers who would do all of this for me and do it ten times better.

    Alright, so not today either.

    One thing I do know for sure is that she can transform into different versions of the same person; maintain a disguise for varying lengths of time depending on how much of the donor¡¯s blood (or not blood) she¡¯s absorbed; and freely switch between multiple forms.

    Basically, she¡¯s the perfect spy¡ªthough not well-suited for direct combat. Or is she¡­

    I felt a tug on my sleeve:

    ¡°Niren-kun, are we going to stand here much longer?¡±

    Oops, I got too lost in thought. We¡¯re already here...

    I turned to Himiko, handed her a syringe filled with my blood (I definitely need to visit Recovery Girl today, or I¡¯ll end up with anime¡­ I mean, anemia), and gave her a wide, encouraging smile:

    ¡°Get your knife out, Himiko. It¡¯s time to cut you up.¡±

    The girl turned pale.

    ***

    In short, according to the quick quirk assessment conducted by "Niren and his Kind Smile," Himiko Toga can do the following:

    First: retain some small items on her body during a transformation.

    I had noticed before that despite all her clothes dissolving, her fluffy buns on her head, tied up with a bunch of rubber bands, remained untouched during the reverse transformation.

    What does this mean?

    For starters, she can maintain connection through a headset even while transformed, as she demonstrated during our practical exercise with All Might. Yesterday. Another useful spy skill¡ªsneaking out valuable data on flash drives, planting bugs...

    Secondly, I reaffirmed my opinion: the fact that her clothes transform along with her isn¡¯t an inherent, "systemic" limitation of her quirk, but simply a lack of control. Think about it¡ªthe girl never had a chance to train her ability, only recently gaining the freedom to use it openly.

    Therefore, over time, she¡¯ll be able to avoid being left naked (a particularly relevant issue during training sessions when I had to turn away and retreat to the far side of the gym), transforming only her body without affecting her clothes. And maybe, in the future, she¡¯ll be able to change her clothes without transforming herself? That is, if I¡¯m right about the lack of a fundamental connection to the donor¡¯s genetic material, of course.

    And it¡¯s not just a matter of female magic or everyday convenience. Yes, her constructs are more fragile and functionally limited, but nevertheless... she managed to transform into me, wearing those gloves from the entrance exam¡ªthe ones with the metal knuckle guards. And they were solid! Is there a chance that over time, she¡¯ll be able to create, say, a knife, if I happened to be holding one while she copied my form?

    Hmm... her powers are starting to remind me of Momo Yaoyorozu''s in this context.

    The second thing she can do: heal wounds. A definite yes!

    For someone who craves cutting and drinking other people¡¯s blood, Himiko was surprisingly squeamish about the idea of making a small cut on her hand. Though, maybe that actually makes sense¡­ Either way, after transforming into me, the wound vanished, and when she transformed back, it didn¡¯t reappear. Success!

    The third thing: her movement coordination and motor skills remain completely unaffected during transformation, despite the difference in height between us. This was precisely why I dragged her to the sports field¡ªto check if the transformation had any impact. No, none at all¡ªin my form, Himiko achieved practically the same results on all the exercises and equipment. Quite curious.

    The fourth thing: her gray slime-biomass, whatever it is, can dissolve unexpected materials¡ªlike metal. Last time I was out in town, I stopped by a pawn shop to test this theory and bought a bunch of metal trinkets, like broken, cracked wristwatches, pins, medals...

    Himiko, wearing all of this, completely melted the objects through her transformation¡ªthen turned into me, who had put them on beforehand, after drawing a little more blood from my vein. Damn, where¡¯s my hematogen bar...

    What¡¯s more, the watch she recreated was surprisingly solid and durable! Apparently, during transformation, the atoms of various materials in this gray slime are redistributed and repurposed to build whatever form is needed. The idea of bio-nanorobots starts making even more sense.

    What would happen if we decked her out in metallic items? Would she be able to block bullets with fake watches or crush diamonds?

    ¡°Niren-kun, I like spending time with you, and it¡¯s fun to keep becoming Niren¡ªit feels like I understand you better and better... But let¡¯s go to the cafeteria already! I¡¯m hungry. I want steak...¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Himiko-chan, hard training makes for easy fighting!¡±

    ¡°I want steak!¡±

    ¡°If you want steak, let¡¯s finish the remaining experiments first.¡±

    ¡°And the steak?¡±

    ¡°The steak later.¡±

    ¡°Rare?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°With blood?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Really, really?¡±

    ¡°Toga, let¡¯s just get on with it. I want to finish quickly too, we still have a lot to do today.¡±

    ¡°I want steak.¡±

    ¡°Fine, let¡¯s wrap up and go.¡±

    ¡°I want steak now!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to turn you into steak!¡±

    ¡°No! Niren, I don¡¯t want to be Himiko steak!¡±

    Here¡¯s the key takeaway from point four: if she can dissolve things like metal watches, what¡¯s to stop her from doing the same to handcuffs? Rope? Chains? Once again, I¡¯m convinced¡ªshe¡¯s the perfect spy.

    Now, what can Himiko Toga NOT do?

    Long training might eventually allow her to, but at the moment, there¡¯s no sign of progress, and we don¡¯t have time for cultivation.

    She can¡¯t remove clothes without dissolving them into slime. We tried to exchange a copy of my glove with her, but¡ªalas.

    She can¡¯t replicate electronics¡ªher mock-up of the old calculator from the pawn shop didn¡¯t work, and I¡¯d have been surprised if it had.

    Himiko can¡¯t switch between forms instantly¡ªtransformation, after all, isn¡¯t a split-second process. Nor can she create a stable production line of her slime. Too bad¡ªI was already thinking about a transportation method based on Mina Ashido¡¯s rapid movement.

    Toga can¡¯t control the concentration, thickness, or amount of biomass. Not at all. The slime itself, of course, wasn¡¯t a great defense. Still, any advantage is still an advantage. And the basic properties of the biomass weren¡¯t bad at all¡ªit doesn¡¯t burn well, doesn¡¯t freeze easily, is slippery and doesn¡¯t dissolve in water, and helps her slip out of holds. Dissolves even metal. Doesn¡¯t leave stains and doesn¡¯t smell¡ªevaporates quickly.

    Among everything listed, one thing remained unclear: can Himiko transform partially? Partial transformation is almost useless by itself, but if you consider that at some point she¡¯ll be able to control other people¡¯s quirks. And then, if she can combine two of them... oof!

    Hmm. I keep coming back to the fact that she¡¯ll eventually gain a new ability. I remember that specific moment clearly, even though I watched it when I was in really bad shape, minutes away from death. It was such a vivid scene.

    But why did it happen then? I don¡¯t recall the exact circumstances, just that it occurred during a fight. So... is this ability available to Himiko right now? No. If not, does that mean it only appeared in an extreme situation? If so, does that mean that new powers could potentially fall into our laps in critical situations?..

    I hope so.

    I couldn¡¯t test whether she can control additional limbs, like Mashirao¡¯s tail¡ªsince I don¡¯t have any extra limbs myself. Theoretically, I could have gone around the dorm and asked my classmates for a blood sample ¡°for scientific purposes.¡± Kyoka, in particular, was a promising candidate, with her earphone jacks.

    But my authority wasn¡¯t high enough to make such requests, Himiko¡¯s was in the negatives, and I didn¡¯t think to secure the teachers¡¯ support in time.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to talk to Aizawa about this tomorrow¡ªhe¡¯d probably help with studying a classmate¡¯s quirk,¡± I thought.

    One more thing I learned from Himiko: as a child¡­ she ate sparrows. She caught them, bit them, drank their blood, and then showed her parents the "pretty" bloodied bird.

    She shared this with me herself, staring thoughtfully at a sparrow that had innocently landed on a nearby branch.

    I... just nodded.

    I mean, only a jerk would make comments about how wild and inappropriate that is in a situation like this.

    Anyway, she can¡¯t transform into animals. Only people.

    And what about people? Right, only people have quirks.

    I need to find a blood sample from a quirkless person and determine if she can transform into them. If not, it¡¯ll prove the theory about her transformation being tied to some kind of "quirk dimension."

    Which means we could start weaning her off her "bloody" diet.

    However, the fact that she can¡¯t transform into animals doesn¡¯t mean much¡ªit could be a built-in limitation of her ¡°Polyjuice potion," so she doesn¡¯t spawn catgirls, or maybe her quirk just can¡¯t handle it because it isn¡¯t developed enough yet.

    I could also say that I was interested in whether her reproductive system changes when she transforms into a man. That is, me. But I¡¯d be lying because I¡¯m not interested at all, not even a little bit, and I didn¡¯t bring it up with Himiko.

    There are some topics you just don¡¯t touch.

    ***

    And so we hung around outside until noon.

    I was prepared for it: brought us some water, a couple of onigiri, picked a spot where we wouldn¡¯t be disturbed¡ªit was Sunday morning¡ªand made sure there was a locker room nearby where Himiko could transform. I voiced all my thoughts and hypotheses to her, encouraging discussion and dialogue, pushing her to start thinking about the nature of her quirk herself.

    In the end, I saw her tired for the first time. Essentially, we had switched roles that morning¡ªI was the one trying to, figuratively speaking, "devour" her, in the informational sense.

    Everything was fine, measured, and quiet¡ªI sat by a brick wall, calmly recording my observations and conclusions on my phone, while Himiko rested from the repeated use of her quirk, fantasizing aloud about an undercooked piece of beef and watching sparrows, lying on the grass and swinging her legs.

    And then Setsuna''s flying swarm showed up, and my peaceful time ended.

    <u>Illustrations:</u>

    Mornings aren''t kind, but good c?o?f?f?e?e? Niren helps!

    Good morning :)