Disclaimer:
> This is a fan-made work of fiction based on the universes of My Hero Academia (created by Kōhei Horikoshi) and Naruto (created by Masashi Kishimoto).
All original characters, settings, Quirks, and concepts from these series are the intellectual property of their respective creators and production companies, including Shueisha, Studio Bones, and Studio Pierrot.
I do not claim ownership of any official content or characters. This story is created purely for entertainment purposes, with no intent to infringe on copyrights.
Only original elements—such as plot, original dialogue, and new interpretations—are my own.
No profit is being made directly from this story. Any support I receive is for my writing as a fan and not for the use of copyrighted characters or worlds.
Chapter 1: An Unremarkable Kindness
The world was born unequal. This was a truth Minato had accepted long before he truly understood it. In a society where eighty percent of the population possessed some extraordinary ability known as a "Quirk," he was part of the quiet, unremarkable twenty percent. Or so it seemed.
His world was not a cruel one. Unlike the stories some Quirkless children whispered in hushed tones, Minato's life was not one of torment. He had parents who loved him, not for the power he might one day wield, but for the gentle soul he already was. His father, a city architect with a minor Quirk that allowed him to perfectly measure distances by sight, would often ruffle his bright, canary-blond hair and say, "Power doesn't build a good man, Minato. Character does. And you, my son, have that in spades."
His mother, whose Quirk allowed her to subtly influence the growth of plants, making their small apartment balcony a lush, green paradise, worried in the gentle way only mothers could. She would watch him from the kitchen as he sat at the table, engrossed in a book, his expression one of calm concentration. She saw the other children in the neighborhood zipping past their window, leaving trails of sparks or small gusts of wind, and a quiet sigh would escape her. But when Minato looked up and gave her that warm, reassuring smile, her worries would melt away.
"The doctor said it might just be a late manifestation," she'd say to her husband in the evenings.
"And if it's not?" he would reply, not with challenge, but with gentle pragmatism. "He will still be our son. He will still find his own way to make the world better."
Minato heard these conversations sometimes. They didn't fill him with despair. Instead, a quiet determination settled in his heart.
At school, his friends were his greatest shield, though he rarely needed one. Kaito, a boisterous boy who could make his palms emit loud, harmless popping sounds, would often try to cheer him up.
"Don't you worry, Minato! Maybe your Quirk is just too awesome to show up yet! Like, maybe you can control black holes, and the universe is just waiting for you to be ready!" he'd exclaim, punctuating his theory with a loud POP! from his hand.
Emi, who was quieter and more observant, with a simple Quirk that let her know the exact temperature of any object she touched, would offer a different kind of comfort. "It doesn't matter," she'd say, her voice soft but firm. "You're smarter than all of us, and you're kinder, too. That's more important than... than popping sounds." She would shoot a playful glare at Kaito, who would just grin.
One afternoon, as they sat on a bench during recess, Kaito brought it up again. "So, have you thought about what you'll do? I'm gonna be a hero! The Popping Hero: Soundwave!"
Minato smiled, closing the history book he was reading. "I don't really mind if my Quirk never appears," he said honestly, his voice carrying a maturity that often surprised his friends. "I've been thinking about it a lot. Whether I have a power or not, what I want to do is help people. I think I'll work for the state, maybe become a teacher."
Kaito blinked. "A teacher? But… why? You could be a hero's strategist! Or a tech developer!"
"Teachers help shape the next generation of heroes," Minato explained, his blue eyes clear and steady. "They help everyone, not just the ones who will be famous. They teach kids how to be good people first, and then how to use their Quirks responsibly. To me, that's a very important job. It's its own kind of heroism."
Emi looked at him with admiration. Kaito, after a moment of thought, nodded slowly. "Huh. I never thought of it like that. Okay, when I'm a Pro Hero, I'll come visit your class!"
That was Minato's life. A calm river flowing through a world of explosive superpowers. He was content. He was happy.
Later that day, school was out, and the trio was walking home through a bustling downtown district. The afternoon sun cast long shadows, and the air was filled with the typical city sounds: the rumble of traffic, the chatter of crowds, and the occasional, strange noise of a Quirk being used for a mundane task—a man with elongated fingers cleaning a high window, a woman flash-chilling a beverage with her frosty breath.
"I'm telling you, the physics homework was impossible," Kaito complained, kicking a loose pebble. "How am I supposed to calculate projectile motion when I just want to be the projectile?"
"Maybe if you paid more attention in class instead of practicing your hero poses," Emi retorted dryly.
Minato chuckled, his eyes scanning the crowds. He always found the city fascinating, a living ecosystem of human potential. His gaze drifted upwards, along the glass and steel faces of the buildings.
Then it happened.
A single, piercing scream cut through the urban symphony. It was high, thin, and full of pure terror. Heads snapped up. The chatter died, replaced by a collective, horrified gasp. Minato's eyes followed the direction of a dozen pointing fingers.
Three stories up, from an open apartment window, a small figure was tumbling through the air. A little girl, no older than six, her pink dress fluttering around her as gravity pulled her mercilessly toward the hard pavement below.
Time seemed to warp, stretching and slowing. Minato could see the terrified, tear-streaked face of the child. He could see the helplessness on the faces of the people below.
His first thought, his first instinct, was a product of the world he lived in. A Hero! Where is a Pro Hero?
His head whipped back and forth, his blue eyes desperately scanning the crowd. This was a busy district; surely there was a hero on patrol. Mt. Lady? Kamui Woods? Even a rookie hero would do! But there was no one. Just ordinary citizens, frozen in shock, their hands covering their mouths. A few pulled out their phones to record, a grim, modern reflex.
No one was coming.
The girl was still falling. Two stories to go.
A cold dread washed over Minato, followed by a surge of desperate, burning urgency. Someone has to do something! Why isn't anyone moving?!
His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of terror and frustration. I can't do anything. I'm Quirkless. The thought was a bitter, painful jab. For the first time in his life, he hated it. He hated his powerlessness with a sudden, all-consuming passion.
No. I don't care.
I have to save her.
It was in that moment of absolute, selfless resolve that something inside him broke. A dam that had held back an unknown ocean for his entire life finally shattered.
It began as a warmth in his chest, then surged through every vein in his body. It wasn't violent or explosive. It was a profound, serene power, a wellspring of energy that felt as natural as breathing. From his skin, a calm, visible aura of azure blue light erupted, swirling around him like a tranquil nebula. It didn't burn or crackle; it hummed with a quiet, immense energy.
Kaito and Emi, who had been frozen beside him, stumbled back, their eyes wide with disbelief. "Minato…?" Emi whispered.
Minato didn't hear her. His focus was absolute, a perfect tunnel between him and the falling girl. The world outside of that tunnel faded to a blur. His legs coiled, not with conscious thought, but with pure, unadulterated instinct.
And then, he was gone.
To the crowd, it was impossible. One moment, the blond-haired boy was standing there, engulfed in blue light. The next, a flash of brilliant yellow—the color of his hair, the color of lightning—streaked from the pavement into the air. It was not a jump. It was a pure, instantaneous translocation. A gust of wind was the only evidence he had ever been there.
For Minato, the experience was indescribable. The world became a smear of light and color. He didn't feel the movement; he was simply there. One moment he was on the ground, the next he was in the air beside the girl, the wind whipping past him. He wrapped his arms around her small, trembling body, his grip secure and gentle.
And just as quickly, he was back on the ground, landing softly on his feet in the very spot from which he had vanished. He held the little girl in his arms, his blue aura fading away as quickly as it had appeared.
Silence.
The entire street was frozen in a state of collective shock. The girl in Minato's arms let out a shaky sob and clung to him tightly. For a heartbeat, the only sound was her quiet crying.
Then, a single person began to clap.
It was hesitant at first, then another joined in, and another. Within seconds, the silence was shattered by a thunderous, overwhelming roar of applause and cheers. People surged forward, their faces a mixture of awe, relief, and utter disbelief.
"He did it! That kid, he saved her!"
"What was that? What's his Quirk? Teleportation?"
"Did you see that flash?!"
Kaito's jaw was on the floor, his usual bravado completely gone. "Mina… to… you…" he stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Emi just stared, her eyes glistening with tears of shock and pride. "You have a Quirk," she breathed, her voice filled with wonder. "You have a Quirk."
The little girl in his arms looked up at him, her big, brown eyes swimming with tears. "You… you saved me," she whispered.
Minato, breathing heavily, looked down at her. He then looked at his own hands, half-expecting them to be glowing or trembling. They were just his hands. But he could still feel the phantom warmth of that incredible power, the echo of the blue light and the yellow flash. He had done it. He, the boy who was content to be ordinary, had done something extraordinary.
He offered the girl a small, shaky smile. "It's okay," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You're safe now."
In the heart of the bustling city, surrounded by the roar of an adoring crowd and the stunned faces of his best friends, Minato's quiet, unremarkable life had just come to a spectacular end. A new chapter, one of impossible speed and heroic potential, had just begun.