Kenji shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed, pulling at the edge of his shirt. The sterile walls and persistent hum of machines were starting to get to him, and the antiseptic scent that clung to everything made his head feel slightly heavy.
He was ready to leave this place, eager for some semblance of normalcy—or whatever "normal" looked like in his life now.
Just a few days ago, he'd been lying here with bruises and aches that should've taken weeks to heal, the memory of his close call with a Honkai Beast replaying in his mind like a bad dream he couldn't wake from.
But here he was now, barely three days later, already packing up. The doctors, he could tell, were still reeling from his recovery.
The door creaked open, and his doctor stepped in, a clipboard in hand and a cautious look in his eye.
He was an older man, with reading glasses perched at the end of his nose, making him look more like a wise scholar than a physician.
He glanced over Kenji, brows furrowing slightly, as though he still didn't quite believe what he was seeing.
"Alright, Kenji," the doctor began, his tone a mix of skepticism and curiosity. "You're all set for discharge. But I've got to say, this recovery of yours is... unusual. Far quicker than we'd typically see, especially with an injury like yours."
Kenji felt a pang of discomfort under the doctor's searching gaze and forced a casual shrug, trying to deflect. "Maybe I just got lucky?" He grinned, but it came out lopsided, more for show than conviction.
The doctor raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Lucky indeed. Or perhaps there's more resilience in you than we see every day."
He tapped his pen against the clipboard, almost thoughtfully. "But don't count on this kind of recovery being the norm for every scrape you get. Bodies aren't meant to bounce back like this."
Kenji chuckled, though his mind was already racing. The idea of his body healing so fast—it was strange, uncanny. But was it really luck? Or was it something else?
"Trust me, Doc, I'm not planning on any more close calls." He took the discharge papers with a nod, hoping his smile masked the questions swirling in his mind. "But I'll keep it in mind. No more rough stuff for now."
The doctor nodded, still scrutinizing him. "Good. Give your body time to adjust—no heavy lifting or anything… extreme." There was a pause, a hint of something unspoken.
"And remember, sometimes a quick recovery is a fluke, but if this… continues, you may want to get it checked. Just a thought."
Kenji slipped the papers into his bag, giving one last nod before he walked into the hallway.
The doctor's words weighed on him as he stepped out into the corridor, replaying in his mind. A faster recovery… resilience… It didn't feel like a coincidence anymore.
He looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers as he walked. The power he'd felt that day—it had been so much more than just strength. It was like something inside him had fundamentally shifted.
That strange warmth, that electric pulse… it felt alive, as though it were part of him. The strength, the quick recovery, even the strange sense of endurance he'd felt since the hospital… Could it be all connected?
His thoughts drifted back to the encounter with the Honkai Beast. The way the power had surged through him, the red glow spreading across his arm like living veins of light.
He'd seen something like it in an anime before, hadn't he? One For All, he thought, the name suddenly clear in his mind, as if it had been waiting there all along.
It took a second for the realization to settle, and when it did, it hit him like a punch. The strength, the resilience… Could it really be the same?
The idea was thrilling and terrifying. If this power really was something like One For All, then it was more than just raw strength.
He remembered Deku's struggle to control it, the way every mistake had cost him in blood and broken bones. This power wasn't something to use recklessly.
If he wasn't careful, it would tear him apart, and in his world, he didn't have the luxury of magical healers or do-overs.
He stepped out of the hospital, the fresh air hitting him like a splash of water.
The sun was just starting to sink, casting a warm, golden glow over Nagazora, its light spilling over the streets like liquid gold.
The hum of the city wrapped around him—so familiar, yet somehow different after what he'd been through.
Kenji took a deep breath, his mind clearing, sharpening. Alright, Kenji, he thought, feeling a sense of resolve settle within him. Time to figure this out.
The chill of the evening air bit at his skin as he walked through the city's deserted, forgotten streets.
He kept his pace slow and steady, moving toward Nagazora's neglected corners, places where only empty warehouses and fading graffiti kept watch.
Here, the city felt quiet, still—as though it existed outside of time itself, in a pocket of forgotten space where no one would follow.
He glanced around, checking his surroundings. Not a soul in sight. Perfect. If anything went wrong, if he lost control… at least he'd only be scaring a few pigeons.
"Alright, Kenji," he murmured, the words a quiet reassurance as he rubbed his hands together, rolling his shoulders.
His heart beat faster with each second, a mix of anticipation and nervous energy prickling under his skin. "No pressure. Let's not blow anything up this time."
He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, feeling his pulse steady, reaching down inside himself for that spark. It had been wild, unpredictable, back at the mall—a storm he'd barely held onto.
Now, he needed to feel it, control it. To let it flow rather than consume him.
"Come on…" he whispered, clenching his fists, willing the power to show itself. At first, there was nothing. Just his breath, heavy in his ears, the silence pressing in like a thick blanket.
Then, slowly, a warmth began to build, flickering to life in his chest. It was faint, almost elusive, like the memory of a flame, but he held onto it, feeling it grow, spreading down his arm, crackling with a life of its own.
His eyes opened, and he saw it—a faint, reddish glow tracing the veins in his forearm, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
A smile tugged at his lips, part disbelief, part awe. "There you are…"
The power hummed beneath his skin, steady and warm, like something alive, waiting to be unleashed. This was his to command, a force waiting in his hands, as if it were simply… part of him.
He clenched his fist, feeling the energy hum and strengthen. He glanced around, spotting an old concrete pillar nearby, cracked and worn from years of neglect. Just a light punch, he told himself, eyes fixed on the target.
But the rush of power was too intoxicating; holding back felt impossible.
"Here goes nothing!" He swung his fist forward, the force exploding on impact.
The pillar shattered, dust and fragments flying in all directions, the air thick with the scent of crushed stone.
Kenji staggered back, coughing as the dust cloud settled, blinking through the haze to see the destruction he'd left behind.
"Whoa…" He flexed his fingers, feeling the sting radiating up his arm, his knuckles red and sore. He couldn't stop himself from laughing, the thrill of it still buzzing in his veins. "That was… way more than I planned."
His heart raced with excitement, but beneath it, he felt the first inklings of caution settle in. The power was incredible, yes, but it was intense, wild.
Like lifting a weight he wasn't prepared for. Guess anime rules aren't going to cut it here, he thought, shaking his hand out. If he wanted to use this power, he'd need discipline.
He took another breath, closing his eyes, feeling the energy again, but this time gentler, softer, like a stream instead of a flood. It responded, flickering to life with a smaller amount of energy, and he aimed at a nearby metal drum.
He tapped it with his fist, just enough to leave a dent without sending it flying. He grinned, satisfaction settling over him. That's more like it.
But as he looked around at the aftermath, a question crept into his mind, heavy and unavoidable.
What am I supposed to do with this?
He thought back to the Valkyries. Their movements had been steady, every action carrying purpose, strength honed by training and discipline.
They were heroes. He was just… someone with a power he barely understood, a delivery guy trying to figure out where he fit in a world that had already spun out of control.
Joining Schicksal, stepping into their world—it seemed laughable. Guys like him didn't just waltz into an organization like that and start fighting alongside people like Himeko.
He didn't have the training, the experience. What did he even know about fighting monsters, about saving people?
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as the thrill faded, leaving a quiet uncertainty in its place.
But then… a small, insistent thought sparked in his mind, a rebellious flicker that refused to die out.
Why do I need permission?
The idea unfolded, thrilling and terrifying all at once. Who said he had to wait for someone to tell him he could be a hero?
If he could control this power, he could use it his own way, on his own terms. No rules, no restrictions. Just him and a city that needed all the help it could get.
He laughed, the idea thrilling in its audacity. "Yeah… why wait?" he muttered, looking out at the city lights on the horizon. "Who says I can't be something out there?"
It was reckless, maybe even stupid, but for the first time in a long while, something felt right. He didn't need a title. He didn't need Schicksal's blessing. This was his power, his choice, and he'd use it how he saw fit.
As he turned and started back toward the city, a sense of calm settled over him. He wasn't a Valkyrie, and maybe he didn't need to be. This power was his, and he would figure it out—one step at a time, no matter what it took.
---
As the city lights of Nagazora glimmered in the distance, Kenji's footsteps slowed, his mind still buzzing with the thrill of his earlier test.
But as the rush began to fade, a quieter, his more logical side took control.
If he was really going to do this—if he was serious about making a difference—then he'd need more than just raw strength and a reckless mindset. He'd need control, discipline, and, as much as he hated to admit it, a plan.
He found a quiet spot along an old brick wall near the riverbank, where the faint glow of streetlights bounced off the surface of the water.
He sat down, leaning against the wall, and pulled his phone out of his pocket, opening a blank note.
Step one, he typed, figure out exactly what this power can do.
He tapped his fingers against the screen, thinking. The strength was obvious, sure, but there had been more to it than just brute force.
There was the strange endurance he'd felt after the attack, the accelerated healing (probably?), the energy that had simmered beneath his skin like something alive. And… he remembered now, the way he'd felt a faint prickling sense of danger right before the Seraph Beast had attacked him.
Maybe there's more to this, he thought, chewing his lip. Like extra abilities or something… Oh right! Deku has multiple quirks. But, didn't he have to train like hell before he could use them?
After thinking for a while, he finally decided to type what was on his mind.
He titled the note: Abilities to Test, then listed out his thoughts:
Strength – Try lifting different weights, punching with different levels of intensity. Avoid breaking limbs (Very Important!).
Endurance – Figure out just how much faster he recovers, and whether he can heal from all kinds of injuries. Maybe some scrapes or bruises as tests.
Other Quirks (???) – Try to see if he can recreate that "danger sense" feeling. Maybe expose himself to something mildly risky, like timed punches to dodge or something.
Limits of Power Use – Experiment with smaller percentages of power to get a sense of control without shattering walls (or himself). Could try increments—5%, 10%, 15%, and so on.
He paused, eyeing the list. A lot of it was guesswork, based on what little he remembered from One For All and what he'd experienced so far, but it was a start.
Maybe it wouldn't all turn out to be accurate, but at least he'd have a framework, something to guide him.
He took a deep breath, re-reading the list. Each line seemed simple enough on its own, but the reality of it was heavy, the weight of what he was about to take on settling over him.
He wasn't just testing a power; he was deciding how far he could go, how much he could push himself without tearing himself apart.
There was no safety net here, no team of specialists no guy in a chair waiting in the wings if he went too far.
"Guess it's just you and me, huh?" he muttered, glancing down at his hand. The faint tingle of the power was still there, just beneath the surface, like a quiet ember waiting to flare up.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the potential in them, feeling that strange sense of something both familiar and at the same time, unknown.
A part of him wanted to dive in right now, to see what he could do, but he knew he'd be risking his life if he pushed too hard without knowing his limits.
If he wanted this to mean something, he had to be smart about it. Reckless wasn't going to cut it.
He saved the note and slipped his phone back into his pocket, a determined glint in his eye.
Tomorrow, he'd start putting his theories to the test. One step at a time, he'd learn to control this power—make it his, for real.