Chapter Three — Learning the Pace
The morning sunlight filtered in like it had better things to do, slipping past the blinds and warming my face until I finally gave up pretending I could sleep any longer. I stretched, bones popping in a way that felt far too familiar for a body this young. Another reminder that my brain still carried the aches of someone who'd lived nineteen years… even if the world saw me as just another middle-school kid.
No dreams last night—not the weird fractured memories I sometimes got of… before. Just the vague sense that something had been lost along the way, like remembering a melody without the words. My name here—Kenjiro Ito—was sticking better now. It didn't feel mine yet, but at least I didn't have to pause every time someone said it.
Today was going to be different. Not in the "dramatic destiny" way, but in the "get out of the house before I overthink myself into a corner" way.
By the time I got downstairs, Mom was already halfway through flipping a pancake, her movements quick and practiced. Dad sat at the table with a mug of coffee, reading from an actual printed newspaper. It was almost comically domestic—like something out of an old TV show.
"Kenjiro," Mom greeted without turning from the stove. "Hungry?"
"Always," I said, sliding into my chair. My voice came out casual, almost cheerful. Good. If they saw me sulking again, they'd worry.
Dad lowered the paper. "So," he said in that tone that meant he'd been waiting to ask, "how was the assessment yesterday? You never really talked about it."
I stabbed my fork into a pancake wedge. "Normal."
"Normal's good," Dad replied with a small nod. "People underestimate normal."
Maybe, but I wasn't ready to tell him that "normal" in this world meant "bottom rung." Still, I just smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it's fine."
After breakfast, I decided to head out to the park. It was the same one I'd seen on walks before—a few blocks away, with a small pond, a playground, and a surprisingly large open area perfect for running. Not that I was planning on breaking any speed records. My body here was healthy, but nothing spectacular.
The park was alive in a way I'd never seen before coming to this world. Kids weren't just playing—they were showing off. A boy with green-tipped hair made a kite fly without wind, his fingers twitching like a puppeteer's. A girl about my age casually floated three feet off the ground while scrolling through her phone. Another kid popped up from behind a bench, his skin shifting to stone before leaping away laughing.
It was… a lot.
I parked myself on an empty bench near the fountain, trying not to stare but definitely staring. It was like watching a highlight reel of a sports league I didn't know the rules for.
A group of boys a little younger than me ran past, one of them leaving tiny bursts of flame in his footsteps. Not full fire trails—just little sparks. Still, the smell of smoke lingered in the air, and I realized my heart was beating faster. Not fear, exactly. More like adrenaline.
It would've been easy to just sit there, let the morning fade away, and tell myself I was "observing" for research purposes. But blending in meant actually talking to people.
I spotted a kid sitting alone near the pond, sketching something in a notebook. He looked ordinary—black hair, plain clothes. No glowing eyes or wings. Safe bet.
"Hey," I said as I approached. "Mind if I sit?"
He shrugged, not looking up. "It's a public bench."
I sat anyway, leaning slightly to peek at his drawing. A surprisingly detailed sketch of the fountain.
"You're good," I said.
He gave me a sidelong glance. "Thanks." A pause. "You new around here?"
"Kind of. Moved in a few weeks ago."
Another pause. Then: "You have a Quirk?"
The question was so casual it almost caught me off guard. But lying about it was pointless. "Nope."
He raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Don't see that one much."
"Is that… bad?" I asked, keeping my tone curious rather than defensive.
He shrugged again. "Depends. Some people care, some don't. My little sister thinks everyone without a Quirk is boring. My grandma says they're safer to be around."
That actually made me smile. "Guess it depends on who you ask, then."
We ended up talking for a while—about the neighborhood, the park, which vending machines had the best snacks. His name was Takuya, and he didn't seem to care that I couldn't shoot lasers from my eyes. It was… nice.
By the time I left the park, I'd learned at least one important thing: people here would treat you differently if you were quirkless, but it wasn't universal. There were cracks in the wall—places to slip through.
The rest of the day was a patchwork of small experiments. I stopped by a corner store, paid attention to how people used their Quirks casually—someone with stretchable arms grabbing items from high shelves, a cashier scanning items with glowing fingertips instead of a scanner. I took mental notes, like I was studying for an exam.
At one point, I passed a group of teenagers hanging around outside an arcade. One of them was balancing a spinning coin on his fingertip—literally balancing, like it was glued there, except it was clearly just some kind of micro-telekinesis. The others were laughing at something on a phone. I considered walking past, but one of them spotted me.
"Hey, you!"
I turned, keeping my expression neutral.
"You play BattleFront Heroes?"
The name meant nothing to me. "Uh… not really."
He grinned. "Then you're buying first round inside."
It was a joke, apparently, because they all laughed and went back to their conversation. I didn't join them, but I didn't feel unwelcome either. It was weird—how quickly things could shift from "outsider" to "background extra" in this world.
By the time I got home, Mom was in the kitchen again, this time chopping vegetables. Dad wasn't back yet.
"Have fun?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said honestly. "Made a friend at the park."
Her smile widened just a little. "That's good. You'll settle in faster if you talk to people."
I nodded, grabbing a glass of water. Settling in. That was the goal, right? Not… standing out. Not yet.
Because here's the thing: even without a Quirk, I wasn't completely helpless. My memories from before might be faint, but I still had instincts—ways of thinking that didn't belong to a kid in this world. Observation. Problem-solving. Reading people. Skills that could matter, if I figured out how to use them.
I wasn't going to win any battles of raw power. But maybe, just maybe, I could win in other ways.
Two Weeks Later
If you'd told me I'd be jogging laps around the park every morning, I would've laughed. But here I was, circling the pond for the fourth time, breath coming steady. I wasn't aiming for super-speed—just fitness. If you can't outrun someone's Quirk, at least you can run long enough that they get bored chasing you.
Takuya had become a regular part of my days. Sometimes we just sat and talked; sometimes we joined other kids in pickup soccer games. I wasn't the best, but I played hard enough to earn some nods of respect.
Not everyone was friendly. There were kids who thought "quirkless" was an insult, and they made sure I knew it. But instead of letting it eat at me, I treated it like weather—something you just deal with until it passes.
The biggest shift came when I started carrying a notebook. Not for drawing, like Takuya, but for jotting down everything I learned. Quirk types, common slang, which alleys connected to which streets. If I couldn't have a power, I could at least have information.
It wasn't glamorous, but it was something. And for now, "something" was enough.