Years passed, and with them, Ryoma grew more accustomed to his new life. His parents, though initially cautious about his Quirk, eventually embraced the idea that he could use it for practical purposes. They helped him learn control, teaching him discipline while allowing him to explore his abilities in safe environments.
Ryoma, in turn, found ways to integrate his Quirk into daily life.
Lifting heavy grocery bags? A simple gesture and the bags floated beside him(as long as the bags had metal parts).
Fixing a loose nail in the wooden deck? A flick of his fingers, and the hammer in his father's toolbox flew into his hand.
Cleaning the house? He found that some household cleaners had metal parts inside, allowing him to guide them effortlessly. He once had a mop practically dancing across the floor, scrubbing with more precision than any human hand could manage.
By the time he turned six, Ryoma had become an invaluable helper at home. His father joked that they never needed to hire a repairman again, and his mother praised how neatly things were arranged—thanks to his ability to sort metal utensils and tools with nothing but a wave of his hand.
But, despite the peaceful life he was experiencing, there was one thing he couldn't escape—boredom.
Ryoma, once a brilliant scientist working on military-grade weaponry, was now stuck in an elementary school classroom, forced to relearn addition and subtraction.
It was unbearable.
The curriculum in this world was nearly identical to his previous one—math, science, history, and language. The only difference was the additional subjects about Quirks, Hero Laws, and the history of their emergence in society.
At first, he had been mildly interested, hoping for an explanation about how Quirks came to be. But the information given in school was vague at best.
"Quirks first appeared in Qing Qing City, China, several generations ago," his teacher explained, pointing to a holo-screen displaying an old photograph of a glowing baby. "The cause is still unknown, but it led to a worldwide shift in society. Over 80% of the population now has Quirks, and they continue to evolve with each generation."
Ryoma narrowed his eyes. That was it? No scientific theories? No discussions on whether it was genetic mutation, external influence, or some unknown force?
There had to be more to it.
As the years passed, his curiosity deepened. Quirks were too varied, too complex to be a simple "natural evolution." People had abilities that defied known science.
Was there something else at play? An unknown catalyst that triggered this massive shift in human biology?
Ryoma didn't have the answers to satisfy his curiousity. But that matter wasn't his first priority.
At night, when the house was quiet and his parents were asleep, he continued his secret experiments.
Each test, each discovery, brought him one step closer to mastering his quirk and even explore its potentials.
Time passed in the blink of an eye, and before Ryoma knew it, he had entered secondary school. His control over his Quirk had improved dramatically, thanks to both his parents' guidance and his own secret experiments at night. He could now precisely manipulate metal objects within a significant range, generate repelling and attracting forces with pinpoint accuracy, and even experiment with creating electromagnetic pulses—though he was careful not to disable the entire house's electricity in the process.
Despite all this, life remained relatively peaceful. He maintained decent grades, kept a low profile at school, and continued helping his parents with daily tasks using his Quirk.
But then, one evening, his parents called him into the living room for a serious discussion.
His father crossed his arms, while his mother sat beside him with an excited but expectant look.
"Ryoma," his father began, "your mother and I have been thinking about your future. You'll be graduating from secondary school in a couple of years, and it's time to start considering your next step."
Ryoma already had a feeling where this was going.
His mother smiled. "We've been in contact with U.A. High School—one of the top hero academies in the country. Their admissions advisors reviewed your Quirk description, and they said it sounds extremely promising. If you can prove your ability and meet their entrance exam requirements, you could have a real shot at getting in."
U.A. High.
The school that trained some of the greatest heroes in the country. The place where rising talents were honed, and where the next generation of Pro Heroes was shaped.
His parents looked at him expectantly, waiting for a reaction.
Ryoma stayed silent for a moment, then offered a small, polite smile. "Thanks for thinking about my career path. I'll definitely consider it."
His mother beamed, clearly excited at the thought of her son becoming a hero. His father, though a bit more reserved, nodded in approval.
But in Ryoma's mind, thoughts churned.
It wasn't that he hated the idea of being a hero. He had seen them in action—both on TV and in real life. They saved lives, stopped criminals, protected the innocent.
But that wasn't all.
In this modern era, the title of "Hero" was no longer just about duty and justice. It was a brand.
Heroes were plastered all over commercials, advertisements, fashion campaigns, pop culture media. Their images were sold to companies for promotions, their names were attached to merchandise, movie cameos, sponsorships.
Some heroes even had talent agencies and PR teams, carefully curating their public image. The most popular ones weren't just heroes—they were celebrities.
That meant a lack of privacy. A hero who reached the top would be watched 24/7. Fans, reporters, paparazzi, social media influencers—all constantly trying to get a piece of them.
That wasn't something Ryoma wanted.
He was not the kind of person who enjoyed being in the spotlight.
Sure, the money sounded nice—Pro Heroes, especially top-ranked ones, made millions from contracts and brand deals. But the trade-off was having every aspect of his life exposed to the public.
He didn't want random strangers analyzing his every move. He didn't want news reporters shoving microphones in his face every time he stepped outside.
Ryoma exhaled through his nose, keeping his face neutral.
"U.A., huh…?"
It was a tempting opportunity. A school where he could develop his Quirk to its full potential. A place that could open countless paths for his future.
But the real question was—
Did he want to become a hero?
Or did he want to carve out his own path, away from the eyes of the public?
For now, he didn't have an answer. But one thing was certain—he wouldn't rush into anything without understanding the full picture.
Ryoma's 13th birthday came with little fanfare. His family wasn't the type to throw extravagant parties, but they always made sure to celebrate in their own way—with a homemade cake, a nice dinner, and a few thoughtful presents.
This year, however, his father had something special planned.
After the candles were blown out and the small celebration wrapped up, his father led him to his room, where a brand-new computer setup was waiting for him.
"A birthday gift," his father said with a proud grin. "You're growing up, and I figured it was time you had your own PC. You're kid always curious about things around you and always eager to learn—so I thought: why not give you the best tool to help you?"
Ryoma looked at the sleek monitor, keyboard, and tower, and for the first time in a while, he felt genuinely excited.
This wasn't just a gift.
It was a gateway to knowledge.
"Thanks dad. I like it a lot.", Ryoma with a happy, excited smile.
From that night on, Ryoma spent hours on his new PC, diving deep into research.
At first, he looked up hero rankings, training methods, and famous Pro Heroes. He analyzed combat styles, Quirk applications, and battle records.
Then, he dug deeper.
He learned about the Hero Public Safety Commission (HPSC)—the governing body that managed hero licenses, assignments, and regulations. He read about the darker side of hero work, how agencies sometimes prioritized profits over justice, and how public perception could make or break a hero's career.
The new school year began as uneventfully as Ryoma had expected.
By now, school had become nothing more than a routine—a boring, predictable cycle of lectures and assignments. Nothing challenged him academically, and most of his classmates were just kids being kids, too young to have meaningful conversations about things he actually cared about.
But on the third day of the new semester, something unusual happened.
Their homeroom teacher walked in with a new student.
She was tall for her age, with well-kept black hair tied in a high ponytail, sharp yet elegant facial features, and an air of confidence that set her apart from the others.
"Class, we have a new student joining us today," the teacher announced. "Please welcome Yaoyorozu Momo."
Murmurs spread across the room.
"Whoa, she's pretty..."
"She looks so elegant!"
Some of the boys were clearly captivated by her refined appearance, while a few of the girls whispered among themselves, already feeling competitive.
Ryoma, as usual, barely paid attention.
"Yaoyorozu, introduce yourself to the class," the teacher instructed.
Momo nodded and stepped forward.
"My name is Momo Yaoyorozu," she said with a polite smile. "I enjoy reading, learning about various subjects, and practicing my Quirk."
That was standard.
But then—
"My Quirk is called Creation. It allows me to create any non-living object or material by rearranging the molecular structure of my fat cells. I'm happy to be a part of this class and please take care of me."
The classroom erupted in chatter.
"Does that mean she can make money too?!"
Ryoma, who had been staring blankly out the window, suddenly found his attention snapping back to her.
'Say WHAT?'
He turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he actually registered what she had just said.
A Quirk that lets her create any non-living object or material?
The implications of such an ability immediately flooded his mind.
Molecular rearrangement? Fat cells as raw material? No known limitations?
The sheer versatility and power of it made his Magnetism Manipulation seem almost simple in comparison.
With proper knowledge, she could theoretically replicate almost anything—advanced tools, weapons, medicines, even complex technological components.
It wasn't just useful.
It was borderline revolutionary.
Ryoma's fingers tapped against his desk, a familiar habit whenever his mind was processing something.