Tsutsumi had ended up spending another three months in that world. Originally, he wasn't going to stay this long, as he just wanted to check how he messed up the coordinates for his own world.
Instead, it turned into something else entirely.
He found himself helping expand a factory alongside a girl who dressed like an oversized penguin. A black metal mask covered the upper half of her face, its smooth surface reflecting light in a dull sheen. Beneath it, she wore a white sleeveless turtleneck sweater, a long black coat that swayed behind her when she walked, and black leggings that completed the monochrome contrast.
The overall image was strange, half industrial engineer, half costumed mascot.
More often than not, she would drag him off to build machines without warning. Together, they built machines that mined resources, transported raw goods across long conveyor networks, refined Units, rerouted power lines, and constructed gun towers through the AIC system to deal with the increasingly aggressive local threats.
She handled operations with competence, and she would often grab his sleeve and pull him along.
There was also the tsundere bird-girl.
Sharp-tongued, easily flustered, and perpetually annoyed, she complained about everything, about their schedules, the workload, Tsutsumi himself, and especially about his "penguin." Yet despite her constant grumbling, she never once skipped work. If anything, she took her responsibilities more seriously than anyone else there.
She stayed the longest each day, double-checking calculations, adjusting production lines, recalibrating output ratios, and suggesting improvements that even Tsutsumi found efficient.
And then there was this silly dragon girl.
She had cycled through nearly every position available in the factory at least once: receptionist, mechanic, logistics assistant, inventory manager. Each role lasted a few days at most before something else caught her attention.
Before joining them, she had worked part-time for a lot of different jobs, switching jobs faster than someone changed clothes.
The only position she managed to hold onto was working directly with Tsutsumi during expansion operations, largely because it involved fighting.
Whenever hostile forces appeared in that world, she would draw her sword with alarming enthusiasm and charge ahead before anyone else could respond. Over time, without anyone formally acknowledging it, she became his default solution to external problems.
So the silly, sword-wielding dragon girl accidentally became his "Pokemon."
If something needed to be destroyed, defended against, or physically persuaded, Tsutsumi would simply set out his "Pokemon" before giving orders for her to follow.
The days passed steadily. As they were busy with work and running around to do more work.
It was, in its own way, peaceful.
That peace shifted the moment he discovered the deck of cards he had previously overlooked.
It was not his.
That much was certain.
When he examined it more closely, he realized each card was compatible with his system. They resonated with the same structural foundation as his Rider Cards.
Yet none of them were familiar. They were not tied to any Rider World he recognized, nor to any world he had personally visited.
He drew one card.
Form Ride: Oracle!
His form shifted instantly.
A dark grey trench coat draped over him, heavy fabric falling neatly into place. A large hood shadowed his head, beneath which rested an additional black hat. The collar rose high enough to obscure the lower half of his face, creating a zone of impenetrable darkness where no features could be seen. Beneath the coat was a white overcoat reminiscent of a scientist's lab coat. Black gloves covered his hands. Tall black boots concealed his feet. Not a single inch of skin remained visible.
"This ability…" he murmured quietly.
His thoughts accelerated.
The enhancement to his intelligence was immediate and overwhelming, similar in magnitude to when he utilized Build Genius, but colder, more methodical. Patterns aligned themselves. Variables sorted automatically.
Holding the deck in his gloved hand, Tsutsumi flipped through each card, pale gray eyes scanning their contents with clinical precision.
He recognized the figures depicted within several of them.
Priestess and Amiya.
Faces he knew, yet he had never personally met any of them.
"This also came from my power…" he murmured as understanding began to settle.
"So it was you again…"
It had not been a miscalculation.
There wasn't a minor error in coordinate input caused by his miscalculation.
Someone had overlapped his Aurora Curtain with their own and sent him here.
And there was only one person capable of doing that, whom he knew of...
His future self.
The last time his future self had directly intercepted him so openly, it was because the future had deteriorated into something beyond repair, a living hell that required immediate correction. That intervention had erased that timeline entirely.
His gaze lowered to the deck.
The object in his hand felt paradoxical, similar to the Nameless.
After that previous alteration, the Nameless should not have existed. The timeline in which it was created had been erased. Yet because it was directly connected to Tsutsumi, someone who functioned as a partial singularity point, it continued to exist despite the contradiction.
The same logic applied here.
This deck had been left by another future version of himself.
It should not exist.
And yet it did.
"History needs to change, huh?" he murmured, his current form dissolving as he returned to his regular state.
He calmly placed the deck into his possession.
New cards were useful. Versatility always was. However, without physically traveling to the worlds those cards originated from, he would not receive the baseline enhancements that typically accompanied entering a new world and integrating into its structure. His core stats remained unchanged.
What increased were his options.
That alone was significant.
With a small wave of his hand, an Aurora Curtain manifested before him, shimmering with layered colors.
He stepped forward without hesitation.
The Curtain folded inward, enveloping him, and carried him back to his original world precisely when he was meant to return.
...
When Tsutsumi stepped back into his world, the first thing he noticed was the faint ripple in the air.
An Aurora Curtain had been opened.
And closed.
As someone who traveled through dimensions using the same method, he could clearly sense when another Aurora Curtain was deployed, as long as he was present in that world at the time. It was like feeling a disturbance in overlapping coordinates, a brief misalignment that brushed against his own existence.
Since it had already closed, there was no clear anchor point left behind. He couldn't pinpoint where it had opened or who had stepped through.
He didn't react outwardly.
Instead, he adjusted his sleeves and calmly walked toward the student dorms as if nothing unusual had happened.
The moment he stepped inside, the usual lively chatter died instantly.
Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Laughter stopped. Every pair of eyes in the common area turned toward him.
Tsutsumi glanced around once. "What? Did someone die while I was gone?"
The previously relieved and happy expressions on his classmates' faces dropped in unison.
That was their class representative, all right.
"Ryoko, you bastard, where the fuck have you been?" Bakugo shouted, immediately stepping onto the table and pointing directly at him like he was issuing a formal declaration of war.
"Growing a factory," Tsutsumi replied casually.
Bakugo's eyelid twitched.
It had been over a week since his disappearance.
Not just Bakugo, nearly everyone in Class 1-A had tried to contact him. Calls, messages, group chats. None of them even received a simple "seen." It was as if he had vanished off the face of the earth.
Which, technically, he had.
The silence and lack of response had only made things worse. Given everything surrounding him recently, his unjustly failed Provisional Hero License Exam, the tension with the Hero Public Safety Commission, everyone had quietly worried he might do something drastic.
Something illegal.
Like raiding the Hero Public Safety Commission headquarters. Or blowing up the Hero Public Safety Commission headquarters... Or attacking the Hero Public Safety Commission headquarters.
The possibilities had escalated quickly in their minds.
Even when Monoma had shown up to mock 1-A for having one student fail the Provisional Hero License Exam while 1-B had passed entirely, no one had properly reacted.
Normally, that would have triggered at least some arguments or a possible reaction.
Instead, they had subconsciously ignored him.
Every single one of them.
Even Mineta, who usually reacted to everything, had been too anxious to care.
The collective indifference from 1-A had dealt what could only be described as massive emotional damage to Monoma.
"Yeah, like we'd believe you actually ditched school and us to go build some factory," Ashido said confidently, arms crossed.
Tsutsumi didn't bother arguing.
He had no obligation to prove whether he was telling the truth. Whether she believed him or not was her choice.
"By the way, Kyo, here. I got you this."
With a light tap on the device around his wrist, he transferred the clothing data for the female Endministrator to Jiro's device.
"You actually brought something that isn't a horrible picture?" Jiro said automatically, raising a brow before tapping her own wrist device to check what he sent.
She scrolled down, located the new item, and equipped it.
In an instant, her clothes shifted.
The black metal mask formed over the upper half of her face. A white sleeveless turtleneck appeared beneath a long black coat. Black leggings completed the outfit, along with the distinct silhouette that made the ensemble look oddly mascot-like.
"This is… kinda cool," she murmured, adjusting the coat slightly.
The other girls in the class stared with pure envy.
Jiro noticed the looks but didn't comment. She was already used to it, and pointing it out would only make it worse.
"Uhhh, Kyoka," Todoroki said after studying her carefully. "Do you realize that you look a lot like a penguin?"
Jiro paused, then she turned toward a nearby mirror and examined her reflection.
"…Huh. It really does seem so," she admitted calmly.
Despite that, she didn't seem bothered. The outfit was comfortable and nice.
Watching this interaction, several of the other girls looked mildly annoyed but stayed quiet.
At this point, many of them had already started viewing Tsutsumi and Jiro as something close to a couple. Complaining now would just make it look like they were upset someone else's boyfriend didn't bring them a gift.
...
The next day, Tsutsumi returned to class and almost immediately felt the familiar weight of boredom settle in.
As a result, he either rested his head on the desk and slept through large portions of class or remained awake while quietly occupying himself with his own thoughts and device.
At first, this drew complaints from a few teachers. Sleeping in class, regardless of performance, did not set a good example. However, when the issue reached Aizawa and Principal Nezu, the matter ended there.
Both of them knew that Tsutsumi was growing disinterested in being a hero, so they didn't force him to follow, afraid that he might act on impulse and withdraw from U.A. altogether.
The only classes that consistently held his attention were the practical hero activity courses.
Seeing that he was still interested in something hero-related, unlike in Midnight's class.
So Aizawa decided to raise the difficulty.
At his and Nezu's request, U.A.'s top third-year students, the Big Three, returned once again.
Togata Mirio, the young, muscular and energetic blonde with blue eyes, carrying himself with easy confidence.
Hado Nejire, cheerful and endlessly curious, her periwinkle-blue hair spiraling down as she looked around with bright interest.
And Amajiki Tamaki, dark-indigo hair partially obscuring his face, posture slightly withdrawn, social awkwardness evident even in how he stood.
They had only been there the previous week to demonstrate to Class 1-A how far they still had to go if they truly intended to become pro heroes.
Togata Mirio had taken down most of the class single-handedly, overwhelming them with skill and experience. Only Jiro, Bakugo, and Todoroki had managed to keep him in a stalemate, which was already impressive given they were still first-years.
This time, however, the setup was different.
The three of them stepped into the training arena together.
Opposite them stood only one student.
Tsutsumi Ryoko stood before them, actually looking bored.
"Good luck," Aizawa said from the sidelines, his tone neutral as always.
Nejire's head perked up immediately.
"Ohh? Did you hear that? Junior! Aizawa-sensei is actually worried about you!" she called out toward Tsutsumi across the arena, unable to resist pointing it out. It was rare enough to hear concern in Aizawa's voice that she felt obligated to comment on it.
Aizawa didn't even blink.
"That wasn't for him," he corrected flatly. "It was for you three. This is a three-on-one. Don't die out there."
The blunt delivery made the three of them pause.
They all look confused by his words before shifting their attention back to Tsutsumi.
He had already pulled out a deck of cards from seemingly nowhere and was shuffling it.
Then, he drew one card.
Form Ride: Amiya!
In an instant, his form shifted.
Where a boy had stood now stood a brown-haired donkey girl, long ears rising from the top of her head and twitching lightly. Dark blue shoes, dark leggings, a short black-and-blue checker skirt, and a white puffy sweater appeared, layered beneath a large dark blue jacket.
Bright cerulean blue eyes narrowed slightly as he assessed the three upperclassmen in front of him.