MHA; I'm Batman

**Chapter 4: The Mask**

The school day dragged on, each minute stretching into what felt like hours. Rentaro sat at his desk, his chin resting on his hand as he stared blankly at the chalkboard. The teacher's voice was a distant hum, drowned out by the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. The black briefcase hidden under his bed consumed his every thought—the suit, the grappling hook, the strange gemstone. It all felt surreal, like a dream he was afraid to wake up from. But the faint bruises on his arms from yesterday's clumsy experiments were a stark reminder that it was all very real.

He glanced at the clock, its hands moving agonizingly slow. The sooner the day ended, the sooner he could return to his room and lose himself in the mysteries of the suit. But time seemed to mock him, ticking by with deliberate slowness.

---

When the final bell rang, Rentaro quickly shoved his books into his bag and bolted for the door, hoping to slip away unnoticed. But luck, as always, was not on his side.

"Hey, Rentaro!" Kenta's voice boomed from behind him, dripping with mockery. "Where are you running off to? Got something to hide?"

Rentaro froze, his heart sinking. He turned to see Kenta and his usual gang approaching, their smirks wide and menacing. Before he could respond, Kenta grabbed his bag and yanked it away, spilling its contents onto the floor.

"Look at this," Kenta said, picking up a Batman comic from the pile. "Still dreaming about being a hero, huh? Too bad you're just a weak little loser."

The others laughed, their voices echoing in the empty hallway. Rentaro clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but he knew better. Instead, he knelt down and began gathering his things, his face burning with shame.

Kenta kicked a notebook out of his reach. "What's the matter? Can't even stand up for yourself? Pathetic."

Rentaro didn't respond. He kept his head down, his mind racing with thoughts of the suit. If only he could use it now. If only he could show them what he was capable of. But he couldn't. Not here. Not yet.

Eventually, Kenta and his gang grew bored and walked away, leaving Rentaro alone in the hallway. He took a deep breath, his hands trembling as he stuffed the last of his belongings into his bag. He hated this. He hated feeling powerless. But soon, he told himself, things would be different.

---

When Rentaro arrived home, the smell of dinner greeted him at the door. His mother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she stirred a pot on the stove. She looked up and smiled when she saw him.

"Welcome home, Rentaro," she said. "How was school?"

"Fine," he mumbled, setting his bag down by the door. He didn't meet her eyes, afraid she might see the frustration and anger simmering beneath the surface.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Rentaro picked at his food, his mind still preoccupied with the suit. His mother noticed his distraction but didn't press him. Instead, she simply said, "Make sure to study a bit before bed, okay?"

Rentaro nodded, though he had no intention of studying. As soon as he finished eating, he excused himself and hurried upstairs to his room.

---

Rentaro closed the door behind him and immediately pulled the black briefcase from under his bed. His heart raced as he opened it, revealing the sleek, black suit inside. This time, his eyes were drawn to the mask—a piece he hadn't paid much attention to before. It was shaped like Batman's cowl, but with a more modern, streamlined design. The lenses were dark, almost opaque, but they seemed to glint with a faint, inner light.

He picked up the mask, turning it over in his hands. It felt heavier than it looked, as if it carried the weight of something far greater. Taking a deep breath, he placed it over his face.

The moment the mask touched his skin, it came alive. The lenses lit up, displaying a series of numbers, levels, and icons that reminded Rentaro of a video game interface. Words and symbols scrolled across his vision, too fast for him to read, before settling into a clear, organized display.

"Welcome, Rentaro," a calm, mechanical voice said in his ear. "Systems initializing. Please stand by."

Rentaro's eyes widened behind the mask. "W-What the...?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Voice recognition confirmed," the AI continued. "User authenticated. How may I assist you?"

Rentaro's heart pounded in his chest. He had expected the suit to be advanced, but this... this was something else entirely. "Who... who made you?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"I do not have that information," the AI replied. "My primary function is to assist the user whose DNA I am programmed to recognize. That user is you, Rentaro."

Rentaro swallowed hard, his mind racing. "What can you do?" he asked, his curiosity outweighing his fear.

The AI's voice was calm and reassuring. "I am equipped with a variety of functions, including night vision, threat detection, and tactical analysis. Would you like to explore these features?"

Rentaro hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. Show me."

The lenses of the mask shifted, and suddenly, Rentaro's vision changed. The room was bathed in a soft, green light, and he could see every detail with perfect clarity, even in the dark. He turned his head, and the display adjusted seamlessly, showing him information about his surroundings—temperature, distance, even potential weak points in the walls.

"This is incredible," Rentaro whispered, his voice filled with awe.

"Would you like to activate the training module?" the AI asked.

Rentaro's eyes widened. "Training module?"

"Yes. It is designed to help you familiarize yourself with the suit's capabilities and improve your combat skills."

Rentaro hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Let's do it."

The lenses shifted again, and suddenly, Rentaro found himself in a virtual simulation. The room around him disappeared, replaced by a dark, urban landscape. The AI's voice guided him through a series of exercises, teaching him how to use the grappling hook, the smoke pellets, and other tools built into the suit.

At first, Rentaro struggled. He stumbled, fell, and missed his targets more often than he hit them. But with each failure, he learned. He grew more confident, more precise. And as the hours passed, he began to feel something he hadn't felt in a long time—hope.

---

By the time Rentaro removed the mask, the sun had long since set. He sat on the edge of his bed, his body exhausted but his mind buzzing with excitement. The suit wasn't just a tool—it was a gateway to a new life. A life where he wasn't just Rentaro, the weak, bullied kid. A life where he could be something more.

But as he lay down to sleep, a thought nagged at the back of his mind. If the suit was this powerful, why had his father sent it to him? And what kind of danger was he stepping into?

For now, those questions would have to wait. Rentaro closed his eyes, the faint hum of the suit's systems still echoing in his ears. Tomorrow was a new day. And for the first time in a long time, he was ready to face it.

.

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