The sun filters gently through the window, waking me effortlessly. I glance at the clock: 6:30 AM. I get up, get dressed quickly, and head down for a light breakfast. No need to waste time on the details.
As I finish eating, the background TV catches my attention with a news report. "Level 3 criminal steals armored truck. Successful escape." The footage shows the truck abandoned in the middle of the city, and the reporter mentions the criminal's ability: control over electricity, capable of blocking signals and security systems. A dangerous and precise power—not the kind of ability just anyone could handle.
I'm not surprised someone with that kind of power could pull off something so bold, but I feel a cold unease thinking about the risks people like that pose to everyone else. Still, I don't dwell on it long—I let the thought go.
With a sigh, I set my empty glass on the table, grab my backpack, and head out. Time to go to school.
The day goes by uneventfully. When it's time for the biology exam, my classmates dive into their papers with full concentration, while I'm already finished. The Analysis ability leaves no room for doubt—answers come to me as quickly as if they were already written in my mind. The test is done in seconds.
I glance around and see everyone still struggling with the questions, so I lean back in my seat. I let my mind wander as I wait for time to run out. The last movie I saw—X-Men—comes to mind. In that story, powers aren't innate; they're the result of mutations.
In my world, Branches are something you're born with. It's hard to imagine it any other way.
My mind starts analyzing it quickly, just like any other challenge. In a way, the characters' mutations could be seen as a type of Branch triggered externally rather than something innate. The idea of powers gained through physical change instead of birth feels so distant from our reality that I wonder if, someday, some advancement might bring us closer to that concept. But for now, the analysis stops there, like it always does when something becomes too vague or impossible to replicate.
For me, knowledge always ends in a logical conclusion—a "click" that makes everything fall into place. But with those movies, something always feels off. No matter how much I analyze them, the picture never quite fits.
When the test ends, my classmates start getting up—some visibly relieved, others still staring blankly at their papers. As I pack my things, I approach one of them—Marco, who always sits beside me. He's a good guy, though a bit less serious than I am.
"Any plans for the weekend?" Marco asks.
"Probably just study a bit," I reply with a faint smile. It's not hard for me; my ability lets me understand and remember almost everything instantly. Still, I like to review to reinforce what I've learned.
Marco nods, then changes the topic with a grin.
"Have you thought about university? With your Branch, you could go anywhere."
I raise an eyebrow. He's right. With my Branch, I have access to countless possibilities. Though honestly, I haven't settled on one in particular yet.
"I guess I have several options, yeah."
Marco smiles.
"I know where you could go," he says, lowering his voice like he's sharing a secret. "The Hero University."
The mention surprises me—not because I hadn't considered it, but because I'd never thought of it that way.
"Hero University?" I ask, curiosity in my voice. "You really think I'd fit in there?"
Marco shrugs, grinning playfully.
"Sure. They're not just looking for offensive powers. Hero University also offers scholarships to people with utility-type abilities. They've got a great system for people like you—intellectual types. You could work in government or healthcare. It's not all about combat."
The idea sticks with me. Hero University is famous for training the best across multiple fields, not just in fighting. Their programs in technology, politics, and healthcare are part of their curriculum too. Even without a flashy battle skill, my ability to analyze and understand anything could be exactly what they're looking for in someone who can contribute in more cerebral areas.
"I guess it wouldn't be such a bad option," I say, thinking aloud. "Though I still have time to decide."
The rest of the day passes without much change, but when the bell rings, a light fatigue settles over me. The walk home is peaceful, unhurried, with only the usual city murmur and the constant echo of future possibilities in my head.
At home, dinner goes as it always does. My father, Elías, speaks in his usual firm tone about his workday, while my mother, Selene, adds lighthearted remarks and laughter to the conversation. You can tell they enjoy each other's company. I remain mostly quiet—not because I don't care, but because these calm moments are what I enjoy the most. The normalcy of family life. Still, my mind keeps circling back to the idea of Hero University.
After dinner, I head up to my room, turn on the computer, and sit in front of it. The screen flickers briefly before the homepage appears. For days now, the thought of university has been bouncing around in my head, and now—with the mention of the full scholarship—it feels like the right time to dig deeper.
The search doesn't take long. I find articles and forums from students discussing Branch evaluations. It's clear: Hero University offers full scholarships to those who demonstrate high potential in their Branch, but everything depends on the type of ability you have and how well you can use it. There's an evaluation—a rigorous test that measures both the primary function of the Branch and its potential level.
The idea that a single evaluation could determine someone's future makes me think about how unfair it must be for those born with weaker abilities. People with minor Branches—maybe someone whose power is limited to solving small everyday problems or making tiny environmental adjustments. Those people don't have many chances to stand out in a world where destructive or combat-focused powers get all the attention.
Me, on the other hand, I don't have to worry so much. My Branch—Analysis—may not be impressive at first glance, but it lets me deeply understand anything I study. My ability to solve complex problems makes it valuable in many intellectual professions. Without a doubt, my skill would be appreciated at universities focused on research or mental development. But what about those with only modest abilities? How hard do they have to fight for a real opportunity in life?
I sigh as I close the browser tabs and open the scholarship application form. I'm not too worried about the evaluation itself, but it's something I have to do if I want to explore all my options. It doesn't matter if I don't pass the test—I can always apply to another university focused on intellectual capacity, where my Branch would be more than welcome.
I fill in the required fields and see that the Branch evaluation is scheduled for a week from now. It's not something I need to stress over, but it's a date I should remember. I note it in my planner without giving it much weight. What matters is that, no matter what happens, I still have plenty of options ahead.