At an open basketball court, the sun blazed overhead as two figures moved across the court with agile precision.
The rhythmic thump of the orange ball echoed through the field, accompanied by the squeak of sneakers sliding under sudden bursts of movement.
Tsutsumi charged forward, dribbling fluidly before launching himself into the air, aiming to dunk the ball with force.
"Not so fast, Tsutsumi-kun!" called out a boy with tanned skin and short dark-blue hair. He leaped after him, trying to block the shot.
Tsutsumi reacted instantly. Mid-air, he twisted his body, leaning to the side of the rim and tossing the ball in a backward arc, behind the basket.
"What the!?" The other boy blinked, stunned, as the ball soared upward, only to fall cleanly through the hoop from above.
"Not bad, right, Aomine-kun?" Tsutsumi smirked as he landed. Aomine extended a hand, chuckling.
"Not bad at all. Mind if I steal that move?"
Tsutsumi grabbed his hand and stood up. "Go ahead."
"So," Aomine said, wiping sweat from his brow, "when are you free again? With skills like that, my friends would love to play with you."
Tsutsumi shook his head, brushing the offer off with a light grin. "Don't think too much of it. I'm just playing for fun."
But deep down, he knew the truth. While others honed their skills over years of practice, Tsutsumi's talents were inherited, an aftereffect of his Ackerman Awakening. The bloodline had unlocked not just raw strength, but the muscle memory and combat instincts of generations of elite warriors.
Their fighting style emphasized rapid movement and razor-sharp reflexes.
With that kind of reaction speed, most sports felt like a slowed-down simulation. All he needed was technique, and stamina.
Thankfully, his stamina wasn't bad either. Across countless worlds, Tsutsumi had played roles ranging from athletes to warriors' support units. He never stayed long enough to understand his full purpose in each of those places, but their influence lingered.
Sometimes he'd pause to snap strange, warped photos, distorted like always before stepping away to save those worlds for another time, when he was stronger.
For now, while waiting for the results of the U.A. entrance exam, Tsutsumi decided to enjoy this world, a place where basketball players seemed to possess supernatural talent.
Or rather, supernatural people just happened to play basketball.
Not that it bothered him. Even if the power this world granted was minor, Tsutsumi knew that small advantages, refined over time, could become overwhelming weapons.
After all, he once couldn't cook to save his life, until a detour into a culinary-based world upgraded his skills to that of a master chef. Odd, but he wasn't complaining.
He played with Aomine until the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the court.
Later, back in his room, the familiar glow of an Aurora Curtain shimmered as he stepped through, sweat clinging to his skin, his body tired but his mind alight.
From his pocket, he drew a newly obtained card.
Attack Ride: Zone
"Interesting," he muttered, pocketing it again as he strolled toward the bathroom. "I wonder what else that world's hiding..."
After taking a quick shower and finishing off the extra food Ms. Jiro had made, Tsutsumi finally noticed the small envelope resting quietly at his front door.
Opening it, he discovered the contents were from U.A. High School, his entrance exam results.
He passed.
Villain Points: 66.
Rescue Points: 63.
Total: 129 Points.
The letter explained that Villain Points were designed to encourage competition and individual performance, while Rescue Points were awarded secretly to evaluate a candidate's true heroic spirit, the ability to help others without expecting a reward.
Tsutsumi skimmed through the Top 10 rankings out of curiosity.
Only one name stood out: Bakugo Katsuki, ranked second place with 77 Villain Points, and no Rescue Points listed.
Over fifty points apart. A gap that wide should've made him feel proud.
But he didn't.
Tsutsumi knew better. He was an anomaly, a walking cheat. So, instead of pride, all he felt was a quiet indifference.
With a flick of his hand, he closed the acceptance letter and tossed it aside, letting it land somewhere on the couch without care.
As he stepped outside, he spotted a small package resting on the ground by his door.
He picked it up, tore it open without ceremony, and pulled out the contents.
The U.A. male uniform.
He stared at it for a moment before muttering, "Guess it's really happening."
The next day, Jiro climbed in through Tsutsumi's window and yanked him out of his futon without a hint of mercy. After throwing on his clothes, the two began walking toward U.A.
"If only I could use my Quirk right now…" Tsutsumi muttered, glancing at one of the cards in his hand, eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Don't even think about it," Jiro shot back, giving him a tired side-eye. "The last thing I want is to spend our first day at U.A. in a police station for illegal Quirk use."
She'd spent enough time around him to know that his Quirk wasn't nearly as simple as he made it sound. There were layers to it, things he hadn't listed in his Quirk registry. When she asked why, his only answer was that the registry's original description was written by his mother, and he didn't want to change it.
So he kept it vague.
As they walked up to the looming U.A. gate, their pace slowed.
"Class 1-A, huh?" Tsutsumi murmured, staring at the massive wooden door with the number 1-A emblazoned on it. "Saves me the trouble of looking for a friend."
Jiro: "..."
Was he seriously planning to coast through U.A. without making a single new friend?
"You're joking, right?" she asked, pushing the door open beside him.
"That depends. You know I'm not good at that sort of thing."
Jiro rolled her eyes, again. She'd basically been his only friend since childhood, and even now, nothing had changed.
"Well, you better start trying," she said, annoyed. "Because I'm not sitting next to you every day just to keep you company."
This felt like dropping a clingy kid off at kindergarten only for him to mumble, "I don't wanna talk to anyone."
Jiro took a seat in the fourth row, far right. Tsutsumi chose the back row, third seat from the end, still close, but with enough space to give her peace from his antisocial habits.
Behind her, a girl with long black hair tied in a ponytail sat down. Her name was Yaoyorozu Momo, and within minutes, she and Jiro hit it off in conversation.
Tsutsumi, however...
'What kind of luck is this?' Jiro thought, peeking back at him.
He was stuck between two intense personalities: a loud, blond guy with his feet up on the desk, Bakugo Katsuki, and a sharp-eyed boy with slit-shaped pupils and icy vibes, Todoroki Shoto.
The three of them had been sitting in silence for nearly ten minutes. Not a single word exchanged. So much for making friends.
Eventually, a bespectacled boy, Iida Tenya, stormed over to confront Bakugo about his feet on the desk.
Tsutsumi sighed and turned his head toward them, visibly annoyed. "Can you two shut up? It's getting annoying."
"Huh!? No one asked you, extra!" Bakugo snapped.
Tsutsumi didn't even flinch. "Keep that attitude, and you might become the eternal number two."
With one comment, Bakugo's hands sparked with black smoke, while Todoroki on the other side emitted a quiet, creeping chill. The air in the classroom turned heavy.
Tsutsumi remained seated, relaxed. To him, they were just children flashing fancy powers. Until someone actually had the intent to kill, he wouldn't take them seriously.
Just as things reached a boiling point, a dry, tired voice cut through the tension.
"That's enough."
Everyone turned toward the podium. A man with long, messy black hair, a scarf around his neck, and bags under his eyes stood there.
"This is the Hero Course. If you want to play around, go somewhere else."
He didn't look like much, more like he'd crawled out of bed than come to teach.
"I'm Aizawa Shouta, your homeroom teacher," he continued, pulling something out of a sleeping bag. "No time for an introduction. Put these on and meet me at the field."
He held up a U.A. P.E. uniform.
After changing, the students gathered on the training field where Aizawa stood waiting.
"A Quirk apprehension test?!" someone shouted.
"What about the entrance ceremony? Or the guidance counselor?" A round face girl asked, clearly confused.
"If you're here to become heroes, then forget about frilly traditions," Aizawa replied coldly. "U.A. gives teachers complete freedom, and that includes the freedom to test you however we see fit."
This test, he explained, would measure their physical abilities using their Quirks.
"Tsutsumi," Aizawa said, turning to him. "How far could you throw a softball in middle school?"
Tsutsumi shrugged. "Wouldn't know. I skipped most of P.E."
Everyone: "…"
Aizawa exhaled slowly. "Alright. Just throw it without using your Quirk."
Tsutsumi stepped into the circle and casually lobbed the ball.
It flew… not far. Aizawa's eye twitched.
"Do you think this is a joke?" he asked in a dry voice, visibly holding back irritation. He remembered Principal Nezu's instructions to guide Tsutsumi toward becoming a proper hero.
"Forget it," Aizawa muttered, tossing him another ball. "That was 23.6 meters. Now use your Quirk. Just stay in the circle."
Tsutsumi looked at the ball, then reached into his belt and pulled out a card.
He flicked it into the slot.
Attack Ride: Ackerman Awakening
Yellow electricity sparked across his body. In a flash, his muscles tensed, his grip tightened, and his stance shifted. With a powerful twist, he hurled the ball at full force.
A soft sonic boom echoed as the ball soared skyward.
Without missing a beat, he spun and activated another card:
Attack Ride: Thunder Spear
A crackling spear of electricity formed in his hand. With precise aim, he launched it at the ball midair. Upon contact, the spear exploded, launching the ball even further.
The U.A. softballs were built to withstand full-power blasts from students like Bakugo. So Tsutsumi's action of launching the ball didn't turn the ball into dust.
"Uh… Sensei… is that… legal?" someone asked hesitantly.
Aizawa was silent for a long moment. Then he exhaled.
"…It's legal. I said he could use his Quirk as long as he stayed in the circle."
Still, Aizawa couldn't help but think, this boy's Quirk was far more versatile than he'd believed. He initially assumed it only summoned gear, but now Tsutsumi was showing bursts of superhuman strength and explosive tools.
"You have potential," Aizawa said at last, pulling out his phone and showing the result:
21,573.2 meters.
"Don't waste it."
He turned to the rest of the class.
"Before anything else, you need to understand your own capabilities. This is a rational metric, a foundation for your path as heroes."
The class reacted with varying emotions. A few smiled nervously. Others looked stunned.
It was one thing to see a student throw a ball a few hundred meters. But over twenty thousand... Suddenly, the test didn't seem so fun.
"But we get to use our Quirks, right?"
"Sounds fun!"
Aizawa turned and said. "It looks fun, you say? So you were planning to spend your three years here, having a good time? What happened to becoming heroes? Alright, in that case, the new rule: the student who ranks last in total points will be judged useless and instantly expelled."
His voice carried no hint of bluff.
The class fell silent. Some looked anxious. Others, terrified. A few looked… excited.
Tsutsumi, meanwhile, stayed perfectly calm. While everyone else panicked, he focused on Aizawa's phrasing.
The student who ranks last…
There were 20 of them. Which meant even the one in 19th place would still make the cut.