For many days, Kyudai begged reality for an answer, trying to understand the nature of the quirk of a child with an incurable disease. Previous doctors had neglected it: leukemia consumed everything—money, care, and fear. They weren't allowed to conduct experiments without parental consent, and their conscience prevented them from tormenting the child with unnecessary tests. For him, every day was worth more than gold.
Now, fate had given Kyudai a different kind of permission: a cynical scientist and hours to spend on research. The boy had little time, and the mystery only grew more acute. Traditional methods yielded no clues: the results remained stable, there were no mutations, no pathology was visible—as if the quirk were hidden in an invisible layer of reality.
The doctor sat at a massive metal desk, shifting his gaze between the monitor and a paper notepad. The lab was freezing cold: the air smelled of antiseptic and blood, and the dull swaying of chains could be heard from the next cell. Behind the glass, the Nomu stood motionless—silent creatures with dull, reddened eyes, devoid of any will.
— And what should I do with this? — he muttered, making notes. Innovative, that is, radical, methods had given him a boost: he'd given one of the test subjects a drug that disrupted control of the quirk, and that brought him closer to understanding.
At that moment, a staff, suddenly appearing in midair, struck Kyudai on the head. The scientist groaned softly, fell to the floor, and, rubbing the bruise, kicked the staff with his boot in playful anger. The material looked like wood, but the weight was abnormal, as if there was metal hidden inside.
He remembered where he knew this boy from. Four years ago, Kyudai was the first to test a crude version of HalfNomu Blood. The experiment failed: excessive regeneration caused the immune system to collapse, and mutated bone marrow growth led to an incurable disease. But even the defeat yielded results: the methodology was refined, and soon enhanced Nomu Blood was developed. If it took hold, the body could withstand more than three Quirks simultaneously.
Kyudai's eyes twitched at the thought of Taiko. The result of that failure was now lying comatose after a skirmish with Sensei. "What did he expect when he met Sensei?" the scientist wondered. The boy had plenty of courage, but also stupidity. But even the failure served a purpose: thanks to it, Kyudai refined HalfNomu Blood to a workable state.
He glanced at the vat of murky liquid, where Quinn and Taiko floated lifelessly, like broken jugs. He chuckled: when Taiko woke up, uncomfortable questions would arise. They could be stifled—utilitarianly: money, freedom, and Quinn, who enforced silence. Give a hungry dog a morsel of satiation so it wouldn't bark anymore.
«He was loyal to me, even in his incompetence,» thought Kyudai. Taiko saw him as a father and creator. The enhanced blood had taken root in his body, and theoretically, he could be made the heir to Sensei's power. But the result of the experiment was unstable. The freedom offered by Taiko came with a hidden past: the constant fear of Sensei, who would pursue him like a hound from hell.
Now the boy, suffering from leukemia, was once again at the doctor's disposal. And once again, his body was destined for science. The lamps hummed, shadows splashed across the walls, faceless creatures stood behind the glass—and this was the operating room for a new chapter of research.
— And the icing on the cake will be this: I'll hand Taiko this piece of junk. A summoning quirk, and with an unwieldy staff to boot. Just the thing for the eternal loser.
***
The sprawling city of Musutafu shone under a clear sky. New residential areas and extensions didn't spoil its appearance; on the contrary, they seemed to blend seamlessly into the old fabric of the city.
The realtor Taiko hired diligently offered dozens of options. He was clearly trying to push apartments—it seemed he had almost no houses available. But Taiko was stubborn: only the house. And now he was beginning to regret that decision. First, the agent drove him and Quinn to some abandoned corner without transportation, then to a house where cockroaches were crawling out from under the floor.
It wasn't like they had much energy to run around the city. After waking up, both were exhausted and weak. Nevertheless, they found the perfect option—a small house in a residential area of Musutafu. The square footage wasn't impressive, but everything else was in order: a well-kept lawn, a relaxation area, and even a tiny swimming pool.
As soon as Quinn saw the house, recognition flashed in her eyes—as if she already knew this was their new place. There was no furniture inside, the walls were bare, but that was precisely the beauty of it: the opportunity to decorate everything your own way, to create a cozy home with your own hands, to make the time worthwhile.
Taiko stepped out into the courtyard. The sun reflected off the pool, blinding his reddened eye—the same one damaged by his head injury. The day was quiet and warm; somewhere in the distance, the glass silhouettes of Tokyo skyscrapers, home to heroic agencies and corporations, glimmered. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, trying to tune out the realtor's endless stream of words behind him.
Quinn, having finished her inspection, approached him and, without saying a word, took his hand.
— Everything will be fine now, — he said, straightening up and feeling his fatigue ease a little. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation and joy.
— We'll take this one, — he finally said.
— Really? — The realtor's eyes widened in disbelief, and within a second he regained his composure.— Excellent! If everything's fine with you, then please, let's go and fill out the paperwork,— the realtor perked up, already hurriedly getting out the paperwork.
Taiko merely nodded, looking at the house. For the first time in a long time, he felt like they'd found a place where they could start over.
***
Izuku Midoriya. An unremarkable boy with green curly hair and freckles, he couldn't have imagined how much his life would change until recently. After meeting his idol, All Might, the timid and unremarkable Quirkless nerd underwent torturous training, becoming barely fit to host a Quirk, and inherited One For All by eating the hair of the top-one hero. His life and interests were always discriminated against and ridiculed by Katsuki Bakugo, his friend. However, this didn't stop him from making a choice at the right moment and following the path of a hero, no matter the cost.
Today, he, like hundreds of other participants, arrived at the UA entrance exam venue. Anyone aged 14 or 15 years and older could apply for the exam thanks to the application on the official website. Immediately after finishing training and clearing the beach of trash, he headed to the address where the entrance exam would be held.
8 AM. A familiar, aggressive voice could be heard from behind the entrance arch.
— Get out of my way, Deku...
— K-Kacchan?"
— Stay out of my way, or I'll knock you down! — Katsuki, who had an overweening opinion of himself, walked past, his hands in his pockets.
...
Six months later, Taiko was back in shape. A strong metabolism, boosted by his enhanced blood, helped him recover more quickly. He now looked natural and impressive: a man slightly above average height, with broad shoulders and a confident gait. Two scars on his face added a stern look, and a black eye streaked with blood made many people involuntarily avert their gaze. His hair— thick, black as the abyss itself — completed the look.
After buying the house where he and Quinn settled, Taiko took up physical training. He avoided gyms: he didn't want people staring at him while he lifted monstrous weights. And ever since his experience with "that night," he'd become wary. Somewhere deep down, he felt like AFO could appear at any moment.
The clock read 7:57. After the exam, Taiko hurried to his part-time job. As soon as he stopped looking like a walking skeleton, he got a job at a cafe. They wanted to make him a waiter, but his stern face scared off customers. They ended up giving him part-time jobs as a cleaner and storekeeper. Sometimes he was called in to cover for someone, so he kept a couple of contacts on hand to keep busy.
He made a habit of smiling more often. Today, it even came naturally. Quinn walked beside him, holding his arm—she, too, looked healthier and stronger now. Her white hair contrasted sharply with his, creating an image of perfect balance, like yin and yang.
At the academy building, they saw the green-haired boy trip and nearly slam his face into the concrete—if not for a girl touching him, leaving him suspended in mid-air.
«A levitation quirk?» — Taiko chuckled, watching the boy's stunned expression.
They separated and went to their respective exams. Quinn headed to the theoretical control test—she'd spent a long time preparing, studying math and economics, and Taiko couldn't help but be proud of her. He kissed her goodbye, and she wished her luck.
Meanwhile, in the hall, pro hero Present Mic was setting up his microphone and waiting for latecomers. His demeanor resembled a concert rather than a training session, but Taiko ignored the noisy introduction. The exam was simple: destroy villainous robots to earn points. Participants would be assigned to urban training grounds.
When a bespectacled guy brought up the "fourth type" of robot, mistakenly mentioned in the documents, Taiko couldn't help but notice: boring, but smart. It turned out that this type didn't award points and was best avoided. Present Mic was so desperate to convince them not to mess with him that Taiko was only more convinced there was a catch.
— So, one boss per section, will appear near the end. A test to the limits of our abilities.
He walked out onto the training ground wearing a beige high-collared windbreaker and baggy pants. He was determined—at least third place, just to make Quinn smile.
A guy with a ponytail walked by. An image flashed in Taiko's mind—Ojiro. The same tail, the same gait. Could it really be a coincidence? He approached and grabbed him by the shoulder.
— Do we know each other?— the guy asked, turning around in surprise.
— Damn...— Taiko lowered his hand. — Your name is Ojiro?
— Right. Mashirao Ojiro. How do you know me?
Taiko instantly came up with an excuse:
— I heard about the dojo.
— Oh, about my parents' dojo? Have you been there? What's your name?
— Taiko Garaki. Nice to meet you.
They shook hands. Ojiro tried to return the firm grip, but realized he wasn't strong enough.
— Don't lose, Mashirao,— Taiko said and headed back to his section.
Ojiro watched him go, unable to shake the feeling that this man was someone from the past he should remember.
Taiko, however, was thinking about something else: «If the dream about Ojiro wasn't just a dream... maybe it's a sign. A sign that I should enroll in UA.»
Taiko headed to the very last section, where the participants were already gathered, their insecurities palpable. A dwarf with purple balloons on his head stood out among them. A huge, closed gate stood before them. On their way to their section, another group, a cute redhead, was trying to calm a loud and seemingly self-assured blond man at the next section. It seemed the blond man was shouting something about a certain Iida Tenya, calling him an upstart.
«Why such a huge gate? Otherwise, we won't be able to squeeze through,» Taiko pondered the practicality of such a pompous structure.
The crowd dispersed in front of the closed gates. Some nervously shifted from foot to foot, others clenched their fists, as if they were already envisioning themselves as heroes. Taiko stood a little to the side, looking at the giant gates, trying to understand why they even needed this circus with the gates.
— It looks like the entrance to an amusement park, — a calm voice said nearby.
Taiko turned his head. A man in a UA uniform stood before him, his gaze lazy yet confident. His dark hair was short, his ears slightly pressed back, and a slight smirk on his face.
— If robots break your bones in this park, then yes, — Taiko replied.
The man chuckled.
— Sen Kaibara. A future hero, if I don't die on the first day.
— Taiko Garaki,— he introduced himself without much expression. "I hope at least one of us doesn't end up in the news for 'entrance exam accidents.'"
Kaibara grinned and twisted his wrists, as if stretching his hands.
— I heard there are a lot of weaklings in this section. Do you think they'll give us decent opponents?
— I guess robots don't discriminate between weaklings, — Taiko shrugged.— The main thing is, don't stand still.
— I'm not standing still, don't worry. I'm spinning," Sen made a slight motion with his hand, and the air seemed to swirl around his fingers. "A useful quirk for untwisting someone's jaw."
— Useful, if it doesn't make you dizzy, — Taiko snorted, watching him out of the corner of his eye.
— Ha, well then you're definitely not fragile. You look like you've already passed a dozen exams.
— Habit. After certain events, you stop worrying about the little things.
— Okay, Garaki," Kaibara grinned, "then stick around. I don't like starting without an audience.
Taiko chuckled slightly, but his gaze remained cold.
— We'll see who can untwist who.
At that moment, a loudspeaker blared a long tone. The gates shook and began to slowly open.
— Well, let's make some noise, — Sen said and rushed forward.
Taiko followed, feeling a quiet excitement stirring in his chest.
Standing at the ready at the very edge of the crowd, Present Mic's start boomed, and the massive metal gates opened. Since the start came unexpectedly and without a countdown, the crowd hesitated for a moment, allowing Taiko to run first. Fifty meters later, a robot appeared in front of him, giving him one point. It was the weakest of the others, so Taiko only needed to apply his knowledge of robot design, a little strength, and agility.
He knew that robots had a power supply inside them, located somewhere in the chest, but behind the head there should be a wire that fed the head, and the head housed both the vision and the information processing center. A robot would simply stop working without information. This was done for safety reasons, to prevent the robot from harming the participants, but the others didn't need to know.
Swerving sideways immediately after being hit by a permanently disabled Rank 1 robot on one wheel, Taiko deftly jumped onto its back and ripped the metal covering around its neck, protecting the power cable, and then ripped the cable out. The robot then stopped moving and fell. "I wonder if this will count for me?" He had to act quickly, as no one was stopping other participants from collecting points.
In this simple manner, Taiko quietly went behind them and took away many of their Rank 1 robots while they were trying to counter by openly confronting the robots.
— Hey! That's not fair! — a girl's voice called from behind, but Taiko didn't care as long as it didn't break the rules. He needed to finish at least in the top three in points; the rest could eat their dust.
...
In a darkened hall, lit only by the flickering screens, the exam was being watched live on a huge monitor. Seated at the table were the teachers, judges, and the UA director himself, Nezu.
— Wow, — Power Loader drawled, peering at the image. — This participant clearly knows the weaknesses of Rank I robots. He's strong enough to literally rip off their casings. Does he have a power-up quirk?
— Looks like it, — Aizawa responded, not taking his eyes off the screen. — And not only that. Notice how he exploits a loophole in the rules: he finishes off those already damaged by others and takes their points. Clever. There was almost nothing about his quirk in the questionnaires, — he added, glancing at Nezu.
The director rubbed his chin thoughtfully, watching as the boy with the scar and red eye methodically destroyed one robot after another. A slight, almost sly smile appeared on Nezu's face.
Meanwhile, All Might silently watched the green-haired boy in the adjacent area, unfazed by the others.
Aizawa noticed this, but said nothing. He turned his gaze back to Taiko, whose fingers were leaving traces of blood on the iron casings.
— I wonder... will he try to disable the Zero? Or even want to? It seems like every blow hurts him. His fingers are already wearing down to blood, but he doesn't stop."
Power Loader crossed his arms.
— With such persistence, he won't last long.
— Or he'll go the furthest," Aizawa said quietly.
On the monitor, Taiko lifted another robot and slammed it hard into the ground, as if exacting revenge for something personal. The camera shook slightly from the flash, and for a moment, silence enveloped the room. Besides Taiko, several other examinees stood out: Eijiro, Sen, and Tokoyami with his living shadow. Katsuki Bakugo also drew special attention. One look at him was enough to know he'd end up near the top. His temper was as volatile as his quirk — but it got results. These students could already form a fearsome fighting force — they just need a little refinement. Right now, they're like uncut diamonds.
...
— Thirty-eight...— Taiko muttered, disabling another Rank One robot. Now only the more dangerous Rank Two and Rank Three machines, with reinforced armor at the back of their heads, remained. A score report flashed on the interface, and he automatically confirmed the entry. — Thirty-nine,— he exhaled, feeling the pain burn in his abraded fingers. A couple more such collisions, and he would simply stop moving his hands. There was only one way out.
It was time to summon the staff.
During extensive training and preparation for the exam, Taiko finally understood his quirk. From a clot of spatial energy, he learned to summon a wooden staff—smooth, as if polished from the inside by light. To him, it weighed only a couple of kilograms, but to the surrounding matter, dozens. The staff's power lay not simply in its impact, but in its mass, changing at his will. The stronger Taiko's body became, the more he could strain the artifact.
Twisted rank-one hulks lay scattered around, and time was running out. Someone shouted from behind:
— Because of you, I failed this exam, asshole!
A blow from behind landed between his shoulder blades, but Taiko only staggered. He responded with a short, precise movement—and his opponent collapsed, gasping for breath.
— You know that's against the rules? — Taiko muttered. — Instead of whining, you should have been looking.
He was no longer distracted. Two remained in the arena: a rank-two robot and a massive rank-three, with reinforced carbon armor. Taiko exhaled, and a staff formed in his hand, as if from thin air. The air around him sagged slightly, as if the space itself sensed the weight of the new object.
The rank-two robot attacked first, swinging its claw. Taiko jumped back and slammed his staff into the side of the robot's body. The movement was light, almost airy, but when the staff met the metal, it was pressed inward, as if caught in a press. The second level collapsed without a sound.
Taiko stepped forward. The third level hummed, raising its fists. He switched the staff's mode—now its mass had doubled. Each movement required more concentration, but his body had already become accustomed to this type of strain, even with the increased blood flow. Taiko turned, dodging the blow, and slashed the staff across the robot's leg. The structure cracked, as if the support beneath it had collapsed. The robot toppled, and Taiko finished it off with a precise vertical strike to the head. In that short time, he had learned a lot from practicing with the staff. He was practicing the technique, while his passive quirk, Oneself, slowly unlocked the full potential of this ability, simply and succinctly called the Staff.
He felt the staff's mass shifting and not being constant, but he couldn't yet control it due to the fact that he had only recently acquired this quirk, not been born with it, and lacked full control. But Oneself was already helping.
The ground suddenly trembled.
A colossus emerged from behind the ruins. "Zero"—a Level 4 robot, a titanium alloy monstrosity. Its height exceeded twenty meters, and its footsteps made the ground tremble, as if the building itself were moving.
— So, here it is,— Taiko said quietly.
He raised the staff. The mass changed again—now it was a feather, capable of flying very high. The air trembled. Taiko knew a normal blow wouldn't work, and now he could only hope for luck, that the staff would change its weight again in a few seconds and become heavier. Time was running out.
The giant raised his hand, and his shadow covered the arena floor. Taiko leaped forward, running under the metal colossus and landing on one leg, using the joints as steps. The robot spun, trying to throw him off, but Taiko was already climbing higher, feeling his heart beat in time with the staff's pulsing.
He struck the joint between his thigh and knee. The blow was instantaneous—the lightweight staff weighed a ton in a split second. The metal buckled, and the joint locked. Taiko slid down, rolling, and a second blow struck his other leg. The enormous machine lost its balance and collapsed, raising a wave of dust and debris.
But "Zero" didn't give up—it began to rise, reaching out. Taiko pushed off the ground and ran straight across its surface, as if on a bridge. The staff glowed again, growing heavier with each breath. He struck the mechanical elbow, then the other arm, until the metal fingers curled under their own weight.
— Lie down,— he whispered.
His bloodied hands throbbed and ached with a dull ache, but every time he recalled that night, the pain faded into another plane. His suffering was insignificant compared to what he had already endured. The staff began to glow—it was not just a concentrated force, but the abyss that had once constrained his movements. Imperceptibly, one of the Taiko's hairs turned white.
He swung one last time. The air swirled. The staff struck the hull, and the steel giant slammed into the ground, as if a meteor had smashed into concrete. The remains of the machine collapsed under its own weight.
Dust rose. Taiko stood amidst a metal cemetery, the staff in his hand light again. He caught his breath and said with a tired chuckle:
— Metal bitch.
The loudspeaker exploded with Present Mic's voice:
— Time over-r-r!!! Everyone return to the stage!
Taiko lowered the staff, and it vanished as if it had never existed. His fingers trembled, but a strange smile froze on his face. He no longer doubted—he and the staff were now one.
Sweating profusely, Taiko returned to the sight of dozens of stunned stares. No one dared say a word. He canceled the quirk that was draining his strength every second, and with it, the shine of his hair disappeared. Reaching for his backpack, he pulled out a towel with an embroidered heart — a gift from Quinn. Sniffing it, he caught a familiar scent.
«Damn... my arms hurt so much. It's a wonder they weren't torn off. The quirk still isn't mine, it's crippling me, but Kyudai still managed to get me a pretty good one. If, of course, he even knew what this ability was. Although who am I kidding—that guy always knows more than he should. This time, the staff appeared without delay, and the weight became more predictable. And the pain isn't as excruciating anymore. Progress, no matter how you look at it.»
A red-haired girl walked past. Before the test, her face had been calm; now it was sweaty, but still collected. She noticed the towel, or rather, the heart, standing out awkwardly against his gloomy appearance.
— How cute. Did someone give it to you?
— Yes.
— A heart..." she said with a slight smile.
— Doesn't suit my gangster face, huh? I know.
The girl was about to reply, but a sharp shout came from the crowd:
— Hey! That's the guy who took our points! Come here, you idiot! I lost because of you!
A short man with purple balloons on his head emerged from behind them. Taiko only sighed heavily.
Rolling up his sleeves, he carefully put the towel away, ready to give someone a rude thump, but a loud sound pierced the air. Present Mic, without waiting for him to continue, drowned out the little provocateur.
— What do you have there? — the pro hero approached.
— So I took your glasses, so what? There's no rule against it. I was faster than you snails, — Taiko responded, containing his irritation.
— Who are you calling a snail?! I'll get you right now! — The short man reared up, but someone grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him away. The crowd began to rustle like a swarm of wasps.
Taiko's arms throbbed with pain. His muscles burned, his joints ached, and his bones creaked, as if they were about to crack. He turned away and walked away, leaving everyone behind.
At the exit, he noticed a nurse and a couple of robots carrying a guy with green curls on a stretcher. «Broken bones? How did the examiners let this happen?» he thought, watching the wounded man go. «Looks like he has an uncontrollable quirk too. Or did he get it from someone?»
The thought of the AFO sent a chill through his spine. A shiver ran across his skin, and he glanced around nervously.
— Taiko Garaki? — a calm voice rang out.
He flinched. A dark-clad pro-hero with long black hair and perpetually tired eyes stood before him.
— Who are you?— Taiko asked warily.
— Aizawa Shoto. One of the UA teachers. I have a question: how did you know about the weakness of Level 1 robots?"
— They all have the same structure. The power cables run into their heads to power the targeting systems. If you cut off the power, they go blind. I tested it, and it worked. It was obvious to me, but if the others didn't figure it out, that's their problem. I would continue, but..." He glanced at his trembling fingers. "After opening those 'cans,' your hands beg for mercy."
Aizawa chuckled briefly, narrowed his eyes, and assessed his composure. He'd already made up his mind.
— Go to the infirmary. And don't be late for class next week. «This year promises to be interesting.»
Taiko looked at his watch. «It's still early... Quinn's probably still on probation.» He headed toward the infirmary, where the curly-haired boy had been taken away. «If this is the examiners' fault... someone really screwed up.»