The ride back from the Musutafu Advanced Quirk Assessment Center was a blur of neon city lights and the quiet, luxurious hum of the limousine's engine. I stared out the tinted windows, but I wasn't really seeing the sprawling metropolis. My vision was swimming. By the time our driver pulled through the massive wrought-iron gates of the Gold Estate—a sprawling, modern architectural marvel that my mother casually referred to as our "medium-sized" home—my body was actively screaming at me.
The sheer exhaustion from manipulating the gold in the doctor's office had mutated. It was no longer just a dull ache in my muscles; it had transformed into a ravenous, hollow void in the absolute center of my stomach. It felt like my very cells were cannibalizing themselves to replace the energy I had expended. My Quirk factor was demanding fuel, and it was demanding it now.
The moment the limousine tires crunched to a halt against the paved driveway, I didn't wait for the chauffeur to open my door. I unlatched it myself and bolted.
My legs, surprisingly dense and coordinated for a two-year-old, carried me up the grand marble steps of the front portico at a terrifying speed. I ignored the startled gasps and polite bows of the house staff in the foyer, making a beeline directly for the estate's massive, industrial-grade kitchen. The gleaming stainless steel appliances and endless rows of imported marble countertops reflected the dim evening light.
I hauled myself onto the central island, my small hands grabbing the handles of the sub-zero refrigerator and yanking the heavy doors open.
My body was operating purely on an animalistic survival instinct. I didn't care what it was; I just needed calories. I grabbed a bag of expensive organic chips, a handful of imported berries, and a heavy glass gallon of milk. I tore into the food, practically inhaling it.
But the moment the first bite of food passed my lips, the frantic rush came to a dead, freezing halt.
I stood there on the counter, a half-eaten strawberry in my hand. The fruit hadn't just turned yellow. The moment my saliva made contact with it, the berry's molecular structure violently shifted. I bit down cautiously, expecting the sickening, tooth-shattering crunch of solid metal.
Instead, the pure gold yielded to my teeth like soft, rich caramel.
I blinked, stunned. I grabbed the heavy glass jug of milk and tipped it back into my mouth. The cold, white liquid shimmered as it passed my lips, transforming instantly into a heavy, glowing golden nectar as it slid down my throat. It tasted divine. It was richer, sweeter, and more profoundly satisfying than anything I had ever consumed in my previous life.
But the taste was only a fraction of the miracle. The moment the liquefied gold hit my stomach, I could feel it working. It was as if microscopic golden particles were dissolving directly into my bloodstream, rushing to patch the drained reserves of my Quirk factor.
"Oh, please don't tell me your calorie intake grew," a voice sighed from the arched doorway.
I looked up to see my mother, Cybele, leaning heavily against the doorframe. She had kicked off her designer heels, her posture sagging. The adrenaline of the day had clearly worn off, leaving her looking utterly, mentally exhausted from the sheer stress of discovering her toddler possessed a god-tier Quirk. She stared blankly at the torn wrappers and the faint, shimmering golden residue staining my lips.
"It did," I said calmly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "But I'm still hungry. Also, Mom... I just found out I can eat gold."
Cybele blinked. The deep exhaustion etched into her elegant features evaporated instantly, replaced by a sharp, intense spark of maternal and scientific fascination.
"Oh, really?" she murmured, pushing herself off the doorframe and walking toward the island. "Well then, let's see it."
She didn't hesitate. She held out her manicured hand, her golden eyes flashing. Her Quirk, Gold Generation, flared to life. A brilliant, blinding sphere of yellow light expanded from her palm, and with a heavy, floor-shaking THUD, a massive, twenty-pound slab of pure, unrefined 24-karat gold dropped onto the marble counter right next to me.
"Here," she said, her tone a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "Eat this."
I looked at the heavy brick of precious metal. In my past life, this single block would have been worth an absolute fortune. Now, it was just dinner.
I reached out, my natural physical talent allowing me to easily lift the dense, twenty-pound slab despite my infantile size. I brought it to my mouth and took a massive bite. The metal shattered against my teeth with a satisfying, resonant crunch. I chewed it, the gold melting on my tongue, and swallowed. I ate the heavy slab like it was a bucket of buttery popcorn, tearing off chunks and devouring them.
With every single bite, the crushing fatigue in my limbs vanished. The headache that had been splitting my skull since the clinic faded into absolute nothingness. My energy reserves didn't just refill; they expanded. I felt a surge of raw, kinetic power rushing through my veins, fortifying my muscles and reinforcing my bones.
"It tastes good," I said energetically, a wide grin spreading across my face. I flexed my small hands, feeling the terrifying density of my own musculature singing with renewed vigor.
Cybele watched me, her eyes wide with shock. A proud, deeply calculating smile slowly spread across her face.
"So, you really can eat gold," she muttered softly, her brilliant CEO mind already categorizing the infinite applications of this discovery. "And it seems like it directly reinforces your body, making you stronger and completely restoring your stamina."
She stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of black hair away from the jagged scar over my right eye.
"Well, if you can eat gold, my little Midas," she said sweetly, her voice dripping with affection, "then I will make sure the chef prepares special meals out of pure gold just for you. Does that sound okay?"
I nodded, returning her smile with genuine warmth. "Okay."
With my energy fully restored and my body practically vibrating with excess power, I jumped down from the marble counter. I ran out of the kitchen, sprinting up the sweeping mahogany staircase, my heavy footsteps echoing through the quiet mansion. The moment I reached my bedroom, I stepped inside and slammed the heavy oak door shut, reaching up to click the brass deadbolt into place.
The clack of the lock felt like a starting pistol.
"I can finally stop acting like a child," I breathed to the empty room.
I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling mirror nestled in the corner of my expansive bedroom. I needed to see the physical toll this Quirk was taking on me. I opened my mouth and stared at my reflection.
My teeth were no longer the milky white of a normal toddler; they were a flawless, gleaming gold. I stuck my tongue out, noting the metallic, shimmering hue it had taken on, looking as though I had just swallowed liquid sunshine. My eyes, already a radiant, molten gold since birth, seemed to glow faintly in the dim lighting of the bedroom. I was literally becoming a creature forged of the very metal I manipulated.
"Well, damn," I muttered, running a hand through my slicked-back hair. "I guess this Quirk is a lot more than just the Midas Touch or the Gold-Gold Fruit from One Piece. It's a complete, physiological integration."
I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. The world of My Hero Academia was ruthless, unforgiving, and filled with monsters. Being born with a god-tier Quirk was a massive advantage, but it wasn't enough. If I wanted to stand at the absolute pinnacle of this society, I needed the physical vessel to sustain my power. I needed to push my natural talent to its absolute breaking point.
It was time to train.
I dropped to the carbon-fiber reinforced floor of my bedroom. I didn't bother with stretching. I reached out with my Quirk, converting the ambient moisture and dust in the air, pulling the molecular structure together until a solid, two-hundred-pound slab of gold materialized above me. I caught it and effortlessly hoisted it onto my small back.
One.
Two.
Three.
I began my pushups. The workout was a grueling, agonizing crucible. The sheer weight on my back should have snapped the spine of a grown man, let alone a toddler. But my bone density, enhanced by the gold I had just consumed, held incredibly firm. My muscle fibers fired with mechanical, relentless precision. I pushed through the burning lactic acid, my breath hissing through my golden teeth. I reached four hundred consecutive reps before flipping over, placing the massive gold slab on my chest, and immediately launching into four hundred situps.
Every time my core contracted, the heavy floorboards beneath me groaned under the immense, unnatural pressure.
[Hours Later]The grandfather clock in the distant downstairs hallway chimed midnight, the deep, resonant tones echoing through the silent estate.
I was drenched in a thick layer of sweat, but I hadn't stopped moving. I had been training to absolute, catastrophic muscle failure, pushing my infantile body far beyond what medical science would deem possible. Whenever my muscles seized, or my vision blurred from the extreme exertion, I simply generated a handful of solid gold coins, chewed them up, and swallowed them dry. The metal hit my stomach like a furnace, instantly knitting my torn muscle fibers back together, adding microscopic layers of density and strength, and allowing me to continue.
I had expanded the routine, adding deep squats with the heavy gold slab and using the thick architectural wooden beams crossing my ceiling for pull-ups, working my entire body into a state of absolute exhaustion and immediate rebirth.
But physical strength was only half the equation. My body was getting stronger, but I needed to know the limits of my Quirk. Now that everyone in the mansion was fast asleep, it was time to truly test my reach.
I walked over to the expansive bay windows overlooking the estate. I unlatched the lock and pushed the glass open. The cool, crisp night air hit my face, carrying the scent of blooming jasmine from the gardens below. Below me lay the estate's massive, sprawling backyard—acres of perfectly manicured green grass, elaborate flower beds, and ancient, towering oak trees.
I didn't look for a ladder. I climbed onto the windowsill and simply dropped a full two stories down into the darkness.
I hit the ground without bending my knees. My dense body absorbed the kinetic impact with a heavy, muted thud, my boots leaving twin craters in the soft topsoil. I crouched low in the darkness, surrounded by the quiet hum of nocturnal insects.
I pressed my right index finger gently against the dew-covered grass.
The reaction was violent and instantaneous. A tidal wave of shimmering, blinding pale light exploded outward from my fingertip. It raced across the lawn like a hyper-accelerated wildfire. The green blades of grass, the rich soil, the vibrant flower petals, and the rough bark of the oak trees were violently overwritten on an atomic level.
In less than ten seconds, the entire sprawling backyard was transformed. The darkness was banished, replaced by a blinding, radiant landscape of solid 24-karat gold that reflected the pale moonlight like a massive mirror.
I stood up, my breath catching in my throat as I admired the gilded garden. The sheer scale of it was intoxicating. But turning things to gold was easy. Now came the hard part: manipulation.
I raised both of my hands, my eyes narrowing in deep concentration. I focused on a cluster of solid golden flowers twenty yards away. I reached out with my mind, plucking the invisible strings of resonance that connected me to the metal.
The flowers began to violently tremble. A high-pitched, metallic whine filled the air. Then, they melted. The solid gold collapsed into a massive pool of heavy liquid that levitated off the ground, drawn toward me through the air like water to the moon. I moved my fingers, acting as a conductor to a silent symphony.
The liquid snapped into a perfect, razor-sharp cube. Then, with a flick of my wrist, it shifted into a pristine pyramid. I pushed my mind harder, forcing the liquid to compress, forming into a flawlessly faceted, massive golden diamond that hovered right in front of my face.
I was draining my stamina rapidly. I could feel the familiar, hollow ache returning to my stomach, but I stubbornly refused to stop. I pushed my Quirk harder, pulling more liquid gold from the grass, combining the heaping, massive mass of liquid metal in the center of the yard. I closed my eyes, trying to mentally carve the floating gold into a perfect, ten-foot-tall statue of myself.
I managed to form the torso, the arms, and the rough shape of the head. But as I tried to force the gold to mold the fine, microscopic details—the texture of the hair, the exact jagged angle of the scar over my eye—I felt something else.
A strange, deep vibration hummed through the soles of my boots.
My consciousness, stretched thin by the exertion, suddenly expanded downward. It sank beneath the golden grass, past the topsoil, through the bedrock, and deep into the Earth's crust.
A pulse.
I could feel it. Hundreds of miles beneath my feet, buried deep within the tectonic plates of the planet, lay massive, unrefined, primordial veins of natural gold ore. It was a staggering amount of power, resting silently in the dark.
I reached out with my mind, grabbing hold of that deep-earth gold, and I pulled.
The ground beneath me actually shifted. A microscopic, terrifying tremor shook the entire estate. I felt the gold in the earth move slightly, yearning to break the surface and answer the call of its master.
But the sheer, planetary weight of the earth fighting against my toddler mind was too much. The psychic backlash was instantaneous and devastating.
My vision went completely black. The massive golden statue I was manipulating lost its structural integrity, crashing to the ground in a heavy, liquid wave. My legs gave out, and I collapsed face-first into the solid gold grass, losing consciousness before my head even hit the floor.
[Morning]I woke up with a sharp gasp, my lungs burning as if I had just spent minutes underwater.
I wasn't in the yard anymore. I was back in my bedroom, lying on top of my mattress. I sat up slowly, rubbing my temples. My entire body felt like it had been run over by a freight train, dragged for a mile, and then run over again. But the physical pain was instantly eclipsed by the sheer visual shock when I opened my eyes.
My bed, my silk sheets, the walls, my heavy oak desk, the bookshelves, the carpet—my entire room had been turned into pure, solid, blinding gold.
My subconscious mind must have leaked the molecular conversion energy while I was passed out, transforming my immediate surroundings in a desperate attempt to shield me.
"Damn it," I groaned, throwing an arm over my eyes to block the harsh morning sun reflecting violently off the golden walls.
I reached out, focusing my pounding head, and triggered the reversal. The gold shimmered, losing its brilliant luster as the atomic structures reverted back to soft fabrics, wood, and drywall.
I sighed, dropping my head heavily into my hands. "I can control the gold perfectly. I can even feel the deep pulses in the earth where the natural gold slumbers... but when I tried to pull it, it barely moved an inch. It didn't even leave the surface. My raw output is nowhere near high enough."
"God, I have to work on my stamina and energy drainage," I muttered to myself, deeply frustrated by the limitations of my infantile body.
Suddenly, a massive, deafening CRACK echoed through the room. The heavy oak door of my bedroom didn't just open; it was violently blasted off its hinges, the wood splintering into a dozen pieces as my mother burst into the room.
"MIDAS! ARE YOU OKAY?!" Cybele screamed.
Her voice was completely devoid of her usual composed, intimidating poise. It was replaced entirely by raw, unfiltered, motherly horror. She rushed to the side of the bed and yanked me up, pulling me into a desperate, bone-crushing hug. I could feel her heart racing frantically against her chest. She had clearly woken up, looked out her window to see the entire backyard turned to solid gold, and panicked when she couldn't find me out there.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Mom," I said softly, returning the hug this time, feeling a sudden, sharp twinge of guilt for putting her through that panic.
Cybele pulled back, gripping my small shoulders tightly. Her golden eyes were wide, darting frantically over my face to check for injuries. "Midas, please, you cannot scare me like that! Do you have any idea how terrified I was? The entire estate grounds are solid gold! What in the world were you doing out there so late, using your Quirk until you passed out in the dirt?"
"I was training, Mom," I said, looking down at my lap, forcing myself to adopt a properly ashamed, childish expression.
"Training?!" Cybele huffed. Her panic was rapidly transmuting into strict, fiercely protective anger. She let go of my shoulders, crossing her arms over her chest. "Midas, you are only two years old! You are still a toddler! Your body cannot handle that kind of extreme Quirk exhaustion yet!"
"Mother, but I—"
"No!" she interrupted sharply, raising a perfectly manicured finger. Her CEO authority was back in full force, leaving no room for negotiation. "No more training. Not until you are at least four years old. Your body needs time to naturally acclimate to this power, or you are going to severely damage your Quirk factor and stunt your growth."
I looked at her, my adult mind instantly calculating the logistics of the situation. If I argued with her now, she would just lock me down. She would install cameras in my room, hire private security to watch me, and restrict my movements entirely. It was a battle I couldn't win directly. But I could easily train in secret; I just needed to be much more discreet, keeping my heavy physical lifting strictly within the confines of my room and eating gold to hide the fatigue.
"Yes, Mother," I said quietly, forcing a sad, compliant expression onto my face.
Cybele sighed softly, her shoulders dropping as the heavy tension finally left her body. In the blink of an eye, her strict, imposing demeanor vanished, replaced by an upbeat, excited energy that genuinely gave me whiplash.
"Good," she smiled brightly, clapping her hands together. "Now come on, get dressed! Breakfast is ready downstairs, and afterward, I am taking you to the park to make some friends."
I blinked, thoroughly confused by how fast she had switched from terrified, to angry, to thrilled, but I didn't argue.
I quickly changed into a sleek, tailored black outfit and followed her downstairs to the dining room. The chef had already prepared my special meal. I sat down at the head of the table and rapidly devoured ten massive, perfectly seared steaks made entirely of pure gold that Cybele had generated. The heavy metal settled into my stomach, completely wiping away the lingering, painful exhaustion from the night before and supercharging my muscles for the day ahead.
Moments later, the limousine dropped us off at a private, highly exclusive VIP park located in the wealthiest, most heavily guarded district of Musutafu. The park was pristine, filled with imported white sand, elaborate, architecturally stunning playground structures, and the children of Japan's most elite, powerful families.
As we walked along the paved, tree-lined path, I noticed Cybele scanning the crowd of wealthy parents. Her golden eyes quickly locked onto a tall, imposing man with neatly styled black hair and a sharply tailored designer suit.
"Ah, Mr. Yaoyorozu! It is wonderful to see you this morning," Cybele called out, her tone shifting instantly into her charismatic, highly professional business voice.
"Ms. Gold. A pleasure, as always," the tall man replied, turning around and shaking her hand warmly.
Yaoyorozu, I thought, my mind instantly recognizing the weight of that name. The Yaoyorozu family. They are one of the few conglomerates that can actually rival the Golds in pure wealth. So... Momo is here. Interesting.
Cybele and Mr. Yaoyorozu immediately fell into deep conversation, discussing corporate mergers, stock shares, and Hero agency funding. It was immediately clear to me that this wasn't just a casual morning playdate; it was a highly strategic meeting between two titans of industry. They were looking to intertwine their massive empires by ensuring their children grew up close, forging a bond that would secure their legacies.
While the adults talked business, a small group of children approached me. They were older, maybe four or five years old, and they all sported flashy, vibrant appearances that clearly hinted at their Quirks.
"Hey! You look really cool. What's your Quirk?" asked a boy with split pink and white hair, puffing his chest out as if trying to assert dominance over a toddler.
"Yeah, what's your name?" chimed in a girl whose neon green hair literally crackled with faint, uncontrolled static electricity.
I looked at the older kids, my expression entirely flat and thoroughly unimpressed. I had no patience for the trivial posturing of actual children.
"My Quirk is gold manipulation, and my name is Midas Gold," I said calmly, my tone lacking any trace of childish enthusiasm.
I didn't wait for their reaction or give them a chance to ask follow-up questions. I was already looking past them, scanning the expansive playground. Near the edge of the park, sitting quietly by herself in a large, shaded sandbox, was a small girl with pristine, raven-black hair tied into a neat, albeit tiny, ponytail. She looked to be exactly my age, focused intently on the white sand in front of her.
Ignoring the older kids completely, I shoved my small hands into the pockets of my tailored shorts and walked purposefully toward the sandbox.
As my heavy boots crunched against the sand, the girl looked up. She had large, intelligent dark eyes that seemed far too observant and calculated for a two-year-old. She studied me quietly—taking in my slicked-back dark hair, my pale skin, the sharp cut of my clothes, and the jagged scar running over my glowing right eye.
"Hey. You look cool," she said. Her voice was soft, but incredibly articulate.
I couldn't help but smile genuinely at that. It was the exact same phrasing the older, arrogant boy had used just moments ago, but coming from her, it lacked any posturing. It was just an honest observation.
"Thanks," I said coolly, stepping into the sandbox and sitting down cross-legged across from her. "My name is Midas. What's yours?"
"Oh, my name is Momo. Momo Yaoyorozu," she replied politely, sitting up a little straighter, her posture perfectly refined even in a sandbox.
My smile widened slightly. "Nice to meet you, Yaoyorozu-san."
Momo tilted her head, her dark eyes flashing with clear intrigue at how formally I spoke to her. Most kids her age were still struggling with basic syntax.
"You can just call me Momo," she offered warmly. She looked past my shoulder, gesturing toward where Cybele and her father were deep in conversation. "Are our parents friends?"
"Business partners, I think," I joked dryly, leaning forward slightly. "They probably want us to be friends so they can conquer the global stock market together."
Momo giggled, a bright, genuine sound that cut through the sterile atmosphere of the VIP park. She looked down at her small hands, which were suddenly glowing with a faint, pinkish light. "What is your Quirk, Midas? I heard the older kids asking you."
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," I challenged, a playful spark in my golden eyes.
Momo nodded enthusiastically. She held out her small hands over the sand, her face scrunching up in intense focus. With a soft pop and a brief flash of pink light, the lipids in her skin rapidly converted. A perfectly formed, incredibly intricate little wooden matryoshka doll dropped heavily into the white sand between us.
"My Quirk is Creation," she said proudly, though she let out a soft breath, looking a little tired from the mental and physical effort. "I can make almost anything... as long as I know exactly how it works on the inside."
"That is an incredible Quirk, Momo," I said, genuinely impressed by the sheer, limitless versatility of her power. If she mastered that, she could supply an entire army. "You're going to be absolutely amazing with that."
Momo beamed, a faint, happy blush dusting her cheeks at the sincere praise. "Thank you! Now it's your turn. Show me!"
I didn't stand up or make a grand gesture. I simply reached out and picked up a handful of the coarse, ordinary white playground sand. I didn't even need to focus hard. I just let the ambient energy bleed from my pores into the grains.
The sand in my palm shimmered. It melted together, violently restructuring on an atomic level. In mere seconds, the dull white sand was replaced by a flawless, solid gold rose. Every petal was perfectly formed, catching the bright afternoon sun and refracting it beautifully.
I reached out and held the heavy, golden flower out to her.
Momo's eyes went incredibly wide, filled with absolute, unadulterated wonder. She reached out with both hands, taking the heavy gold rose carefully, treating it as if it were the most precious, fragile thing in the entire world.
"My Quirk is Gold," I said softly, watching the sunlight reflect off her dark eyes. "I can turn anything I touch into it, and I can move it with my mind."
Momo looked up from the golden rose, her dark eyes locking directly onto my molten gold ones. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the distant noise of the playground and the subtle, high-stakes plotting of our billionaire parents, an unspoken understanding passed between us.
We weren't normal kids. We were prodigies. We were the heirs to empires, carrying powers that could fundamentally shape the future of this superhuman society.
"I think," Momo said softly, clutching the golden rose carefully to her chest, "we are going to be very good friends, Midas."
"I think so too, Momo," I replied calmly.
As I sat there in the sand with the heiress of Creation, the foundation of my own empire was already rapidly forming in my mind.