I have no powers, but I've got two hands and I know how to use them.

Hello everyone.

When I reach chapter 12, I'll start uploading advance chapters to my Patreon. For a while, I'll stop posting here to focus on that platform. For now, it's just symbolic: a way to motivate myself to keep writing.

I'm currently unemployed, so any kind of support—no matter how small—means a lot to me.

If I ever stop uploading chapters for more than a week, it's probably because work got to me.

[email protected]/novelwisp

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The U.A. locker room smelled like disinfectant and metal. The lockers were big, all identical, and the bright overhead lights gave everything a sterile, hospital-like shine.

Most of the guys were already changing. Some looked comfortable, others a bit awkward. I stood still in front of my locker for a moment, casually glancing around at my classmates.

At a glance, almost everyone seemed to be in good shape. Kirishima had well-defined muscles, same with Sero, though his build was leaner and longer. Tokoyami was harder to read for… obvious reasons, but his torso was pretty solid. Shoji… well, the guy looked like he was born to haul trucks around.

Kaminari was more on the slim side, definitely not bulky. Mineta… not even worth mentioning. He looked like an elementary schooler who'd never touched a dumbbell.

Instinctively, I glanced down at my own torso as I pulled my shirt off.

It wasn't anything impressive, but I was athletic—functional muscle, as they called it. I'd trained a lot during my first few years in this world, convinced that my quirk would manifest if I got physically stronger. I fought, ran, practiced martial arts. I convinced myself I'd awaken some kind of power or system.

But once I let go of that fantasy and threw myself fully into tech, I stopped. Not completely, of course—I still needed basic strength to lift engines, fridges, washing machines… and no, I'm not exaggerating, I dismantled two of those in one day just for spare parts. But it was no longer my priority. My fitness had taken a back seat.

That was a mistake.

I needed to start training again.

I shelved the thought and glanced to the side.

Midoriya.

He was right across the bench, a little hunched over, pulling off his shirt with quick, awkward movements.

I watched him for a few seconds.

We hadn't talked yet.

That needed to change.

I walked over to Midoriya at a relaxed pace.

"Hey," I said, and his head whipped around instantly, surprised. "I overheard Iida and that girl talking. Sounds like you took down the zero-pointer with a single hit."

He blinked several times, like he didn't even know what I was talking about.

"Huh? Ah! N-no, it wasn't exactly a hit… I… I just jumped and… well, it was more of an accident… I didn't really plan it…"

He sounded nervous. Embarrassed, even. His voice kept going up and down like he wasn't used to getting compliments.

"That actually makes it even more impressive," I said with a small grin.

Midoriya lowered his gaze a little, unsure how to take the praise. Interesting. Most people would be bragging, puffing out their chest. He, on the other hand, seemed uncomfortable being noticed.

"Tachibana Riku," I introduced myself, holding out a hand.

"Izuku Midoriya," he replied, shaking it, though a little hesitantly.

It was a quick handshake, but good enough. First contact: done.

"Nice to meet you, Midoriya. Let's get along from now on," I said casually. And I meant it—though sure, my whole plan kind of hinged on him. He nodded, still looking awkward.

I decided not to push it. Sometimes the best way to win over someone like Midoriya is to just give them space.

I turned around and went back to my locker.

I opened it and grabbed the things that really mattered.

My Shocker Gloves.

And the corrosive web shooters.

Both were already calibrated. I ran a quick check out of habit, though I knew everything was fine. The gloves clicked softly into place. I felt the familiar weight settle on my hands and forearms. It was comforting.

I was ready.

I turned to leave but felt someone's eyes on me.

Midoriya.

He was a few steps away, half-dressed, staring at me with genuine surprise and curiosity.

He wasn't the only one. Tokoyami and Shoji had noticed too. The rest… not so much.

Not surprising. My gear didn't exactly look like something from the school's sports supply closet.

"Is that support gear?" Midoriya asked.

No mockery. Just pure interest.

I smiled.

"You'll see soon enough."

I shut my locker and headed out.

I could feel a few eyes on my back, but I didn't pay them any mind.

They'd understand soon enough.

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Once everyone had changed into their sports uniforms, I found myself standing in the middle of U.A.'s training field, surrounded by the rest of Class 1-A. Aizawa explained bluntly that we were about to have a quirk assessment test.

Uraraka raised her hand, confused, mentioning something about the entrance ceremony and orientation.

Aizawa shut it down instantly.

"That's unnecessary," he said in that flat tone of his. "At regular schools, physical fitness tests don't factor in quirks. Here, it's different."

As he spoke, his eyes landed on me for a few seconds. He didn't say anything, but it was enough to make my jaw clench.

Then, he shifted his attention to Bakugou.

"Bakugou. You were second place in the practical exam. What was your best throw distance back in middle school?"

Bakugou frowned, clearly annoyed at the reminder that he wasn't number one. Still, he answered with forced calm.

"Sixty-seven meters."

Aizawa nodded.

"Good. Step up."

Bakugou walked forward, the wind making his uniform ripple slightly. Aizawa tossed him a ball, which Bakugou caught one-handed.

"Use your quirk. Don't hold back," Aizawa ordered, pointing at the throwing zone.

The atmosphere immediately shifted. A few students leaned in, curious.

Bakugou got into position. His hand sparked. With a burst of explosive force, he launched the ball, smoke trailing behind it.

The sensor beeped.

"705.2 meters," Aizawa read aloud. Zero emotion.

The class buzzed with excitement after the throw, everyone murmuring among themselves. Mina, grinning, said what many seemed to be thinking:

"That looks fun."

Aizawa's frown deepened.

"You think this is fun?" His voice stayed low but cut through the chatter. "You've got three years before you become pros. Planning to screw around the whole time? Fine…"

He paused briefly. Then, in a tone that made the temperature drop, said:

"Whoever ranks last in this assessment… will be considered hopeless… and expelled immediately."

Protests broke out almost instantly, but Aizawa didn't give anyone a chance to finish. His sharp glare silenced everyone before they could get through half a sentence.

"Enough of the demonstration. Now… the real test begins."

⚡️ 50-METER DASH ⚡️

After a few rounds of paired races, it was my turn.

"Next: Tachibana Riku and Yaoyorozu Momo," Aizawa announced.

That's when a few girls seemed to notice my gloves—or maybe they had noticed earlier but didn't have the nerve to ask. I could hear a few whispers from behind me as I walked up to the starting line.

Momo raised an eyebrow, glancing at my gear but keeping quiet. We were seconds away from starting.

Aizawa's gaze focused on me for a moment, his eyes drifting down to my shoes, and I noticed his brow twitch slightly.

Not the same skates from the practical exam, huh? He probably assumed I broke them or left them out on purpose. His loss, I thought.

Momo calmly rolled up her sleeves. Her arms began to glow as she created… an electric scooter.

I just stretched out my arms and cracked my neck. Then, right before I got into starting position, I made a small motion with my feet.

With a soft click, a set of wheels extended from the soles, and a few exhaust vents unfolded from my heels.

I felt their attention lock onto me.

No one said it aloud, but I felt the shift in the air. For a moment, everything around us went quiet after that crisp mechanical click.

Even Momo tilted her head slightly, eyeing my setup with a look somewhere between curiosity and analytical focus. Her scooter gave a low hum, ready to go.

I crouched down low, engines humming softly as the exhaust started to build up steam. A flicker of adrenaline shot through me.

Aizawa stepped up to the starting line, giving me a quick glance, maybe with a hint of doubt.

"Ready," he said.

Momo nodded, her scooter already humming softly.

"Go."

I launched forward.

A burst of steam shot out, short and powerful. The wheels spun hard, propelling me ahead. The wind slammed against my face, and the ground blurred beneath me.

Momo had a solid start—her scooter was fast—but mine… mine was something else entirely. I didn't rely on factory-standard batteries. This was my own custom design, powered by hydraulic pressure and controlled micro-combustion. It wasn't sleek. It was raw power.

The finish line came in a flash.

I skidded to a sideways stop, shutting down the system with a tap of my heel. The steam drifted away.

Momo crossed the line a few seconds later.

I glanced at the display.

4.11 seconds.

Not bad.

But still slower than Iida, who had clocked in at 3.04 seconds.

Tch… of course. His quirk was literally built for speed.

A tight feeling settled in my chest. Not jealousy—just reality. No matter how much I refined my designs, how much I tuned my engines or sharpened my technique, there was still a gap. A limit to what a regular body could do… compared to what someone with a quirk could pull off without breaking a sweat.

I clenched my fists inside my gloves. I wasn't going to settle. Not as long as I could breathe.

I turned to Momo.

She was looking at her result calmly, though the tight line of her lips gave her away. She let out a quiet sigh, clearly expecting more from herself. Not angry, but definitely not satisfied.

I walked over.

"Nice run," I said, giving her a thumbs-up.

She turned her head slightly to look at me. Her eyes held mine for a few seconds, maybe checking if I was being genuine… then she gave me a small smile.

"Thank you," she said softly, before walking back to join the others.

Hey, a smile. That counted as a win.

I headed toward the rest of the group. Mina was the first to react, grinning like she'd been waiting for this.

"That was awesome!" she said. "Are those the skates you used in the entrance exam?"

I nodded, trying not to look too smug."Sort of. I redesigned them so they wouldn't stand out."

I tapped a small button with my foot. With a soft click, the wheels and exhaust vents popped out from my soles.

Mina let out a cheerful laugh."Dude, that's seriously cool! Like, secret agent level cool."

I tapped again, and everything folded back, vanishing under the shoes.

The rest of the tests kept going.

GRIP TEST.

Yeah… I didn't have high hopes here. I hadn't built anything to boost my raw strength yet. I'd thought about it, sure, but my prototype was nowhere near ready. So I used just my hands—nothing fancy. Result: average for a normal guy. Not embarrassing, but nothing special either. At least I wasn't dead last.

DISTANCE JUMP.

This is where I really excelled. I adjusted my gloves, crouched down as if I were about to take off, and pressed them against the ground. A burst of downward pressure propelled me forward as if a spring had popped beneath my feet.

I landed cleanly a few meters further than second place.

First place.

That felt good.

SIDE JUMPS.

Right back to "normal" territory. I didn't have any gadgets for this, nothing hidden in my shoes. It all came down to reflexes and coordination. I did my best, and that was enough to keep me in the top half of the class.

BALL THROW.

This was my comeback.

We each got a standard ball, but I wasn't about to throw it the normal way.

I dropped to one knee, cradled the ball in one hand, and tapped the control on my left glove with the other, activating shock mode. I felt the pulse charge up.

"Let's go!" I shouted by reflex, hurling it with everything I had. At the same time, the glove unleashed a sonic burst at the moment of release, adding extra acceleration. The ball tore through the air with a faint whistle.

Silence.

Then the sensor beeped.

740 meters.

I heard people whispering, trying to guess what my quirk was. Some figured the gloves were for controlling it.

Yeah… if only they knew.

Then it was the main character's turn. Everyone focused on him. Me included—I wanted to see if things would play out the way I remembered.

And they did.

Aizawa stopped him just in time, shutting down his quirk before he could break himself. Then he let him try again.

Izuku threw with everything he had. A burst of wind shot across the field. Clothes fluttered, dust kicked up.

IZUKU MIDORIYA — 705 meters.

The rest of the tests? Nothing remarkable. I did well enough across the board. Just enough for people to remember my name… without standing out too much.

Once we were done, we gathered around again. Some were gasping for breath, others laughing in relief. I just stood there, calm.

Then Aizawa spoke.

"The expulsion thing…" he said, flat and emotionless, "was a lie."

No surprise there. I already knew that. What I was waiting for came next: the final rankings.

Aizawa pulled up the scoreboard.

1. Momo Yaoyorozu.

2. Shoto Todoroki.

3. Riku Tachibana.

4. Tenya Iida.

5. Katsuki Bakugou.

Not bad.

Physically, I wasn't as out of shape as I feared… but I wasn't satisfied either.

Once I get access to the Support Course workshop, I'll fix that.

As everyone headed back to the locker room, Aizawa quietly walked up beside me. His shadow fell across the ground before I even noticed.

"Riku Tachibana," he said in that tired, blunt tone of his, "you can keep using your equipment. I don't have a problem with it."

I stopped walking. So did he.

"But remember this," he added, looking at me with that tired but sharp expression, "if you're no good without your toys... you're not going to last in this class."

It wasn't cruel.

But it still pissed me off.

I didn't say anything out loud. I just nodded.

What was I supposed to do, argue? Agree with him? Ask him to repeat it so I could engrave it on a plaque in my workshop for motivation?

No.

I stayed quiet.

But inside… inside, I was boiling.

I was tired. Tired of hearing it my whole life—that I was nothing without a quirk, that I'd never make it, that I wasn't enough.

And now… now that I'd built something from scratch, burned my eyes reading manuals, shredded my fingers soldering metal, pulled myself up without teachers, without blueprints, without support… now that I'd made it this far—

Even now it wasn't enough?

So what mattered then?

Being born lucky? Having the right gene? Being gifted with power straight out of the womb?

I took a deep breath. Once. Twice. I didn't say a word. I just nodded, eyes forward.

Aizawa didn't say anything else either. He turned around and walked off, like the conversation was done.

I stayed where I was for a few more seconds, feeling something coil tight inside me.

It wasn't the first time I'd thought this way. But hearing it out loud, from someone like him—a real pro hero, someone who'd been through it all—made it hit harder.

Maybe that's why it stung so much.

My fists clenched inside my gloves.

I'm not going to fail.

Aizawa walked off without looking back, and I stood there a little longer, my chest rising and falling slowly, controlling the anger, focusing myself.

"If you're useless without your toys…"

Fine.

Then I'll make sure my toys outmatch every damn quirk in this school.