"Nineteen points."
A man's voice came as a hoarse whisper, more directed at himself than the world.
His breath came a little ragged, forming thin wisps of vapor in the cold morning air.
In his tightly clenched fist, a robot core—a metal orb the size of a fist with an optic lens now dim and crushed.
A sickening crunch echoed as the pressure from his fingers shattered the circuits and protective casing, turning it into sharp, glittering shards of metal that clattered to the cracked asphalt beneath his feet.
It was the core of the last robot he had defeated!
The man stood tall atop a metallic pyramid. Crumpled robot bodies, dented steel panels, and frayed cables formed the footing under his boots.
He slowly turned his head, his neck moving smoothly as his sharp eyes scanned the surroundings. From left to right, his gaze swept over the buildings: cracks in the concrete, pale morning light reflecting off dark windows, before returning to the front.
At that moment, the silence shattered, and his body reacted even before his mind could process it.
He suddenly heard the grinding of metal.
It began with a heavy creak from the end of the street to his right, followed by the thud of hydraulic pistons from his left, then the screech of metal grinding on asphalt from behind him. The sounds hit simultaneously, echoing between the tall buildings, creating an auditory cage that made the hairs on his neck stand on end—not from fear, but from anticipation.
Hearing that, the muscles in his right shoulder tensed instantly.
His head snapped toward the noise, and his brow furrowed slightly.
From every intersection and dark alley surrounding him, they emerged.
Sixteen robots. Various models, from nimble 1-Point units to larger, heavily armored 2-Point ones. Their red optic lenses flared to life in unison, locked onto him—the sole living target in the zone.
Their heavy metal legs pounded the ground in a coordinated rhythm, forming a tight encirclement.
Dust billowed around their feet as they locked in position around the man.
Seeing that flawless encirclement, seeing the red glints reflecting off their metal surfaces, the man felt no tremor of fear. Instead, the corner of his mouth tugged upward, forming a lopsided grin of satisfaction.
His chest tightened. Adrenaline surged wildly through his veins.
Perfect, he thought, a thrilling tingle running down his spine. For months, I've only trained with old scrap metal at the junkyard. Now, look at these fancy toys. They move, they fight back. This is the real test.
"Excellent, just right to test my training!" he shouted, his voice booming.
As he spoke, the air around him crackled, filled with an invisible energy from his Quirk fully activating.
Dust particles near his feet vibrated and lifted slightly, dancing in the air.
Without a hint of hesitation, the man bent his knees, the muscles in his legs coiling like compressed springs.
With a burst of energy, he leaped straight into the air.
As his body shot upward, his hands extended downward toward the scrap pile below.
In an instant, with a powerful mental pull, dozens of steel plates, broken robot arms, and chassis fragments from his fallen foes rocketed upward, chasing after him.
This was his Quirk!
He could manipulate the Earth's magnetism!
The metals roared through the air, clanging against each other loudly as they fused beneath his soles, forming a temporary circular platform floating ten meters above the ground. He landed on it with perfect balance, his coat billowing briefly before settling gracefully.
From his elevated position, his eyes scanned the sea of robots below, and his grin widened.
With a sweeping motion of his hand, a storm of metal raged.
Thumb-sized bolts detached from robot carcasses shot downward like machine-gun bullets, whistling sharply as they cleaved the air.
Each bolt struck its target with deadly precision, piercing optic lenses and disabling the 1-Point robots' sensors.
Bent steel pipes rose from the ground, their jagged ends spinning rapidly before launching like primitive spears, piercing thin chassis with ear-splitting rips of metal.
A discarded car door lifted from the sidewalk, spinning like a giant frisbee, and cleaved three robots in half with a single brutal horizontal swing.
In the blink of an eye, the symphony of destruction reached its crescendo.
Fifteen robots fell, shredded, impaled, and demolished by weapons ironically forged from the remains of their own kind.
Black hydraulic oil spurted from damaged joints, soaking the asphalt and filling the air with the acrid stench of burning lubricant.
At that moment, a 2-Point robot—a mechanical monster with two massive wrecking arms and far thicker armor plating—remained. The shield it had yanked from another scrap heap had withstood the initial barrage, though now it was dented and scratched.
Its large, single optic lens glowed red, ignoring its destroyed comrades and locking onto the man atop his metal platform.
Without warning, the robot charged. It slammed its shield down, then, with a peaking roar of electric motors, one of its wrecking arms swung upward.
The air whistled in its path, creating a deep tearing sound as the one-ton limb rocketed toward the man and his platform.
The man observed the attack with narrowed eyes. No time to dodge. Instead, he planted his feet more firmly on his metal platform, raised his right palm forward, and pushed—with a wave of magnetic repulsion.
The air in front of his palm seemed to warp, vibrating like heat haze over asphalt.
The massive arm slammed into the invisible field.
BOOM!
The swing halted abruptly, mere inches from the man's body. The metal shuddered violently under the immense pressure, the robot's shoulder motors whining as they strained to push further—but to no avail.
The arm was held fast, frozen in mid-air, restrained by the will of a single young man.
The man stared at the robot, his breath now coming heavy.
Sweat beaded on his temples, and the muscles in his arms and shoulders burned. The concentration needed to hold such a weight was draining.
His magnetic field was strong, but still limited!
He could feel his energy draining like water from a leaking vessel.
So heavy, he thought, gritting his teeth. The vibrations from the impact rippled through the metal platform under his feet, making it waver slightly. I can hold it, but I can't push it back. This alloy... too dense.
He tried twisting his magnetic field, attempting to lift the robot's arm, reverse it, and use its own momentum against it.
But his efforts were futile. The robot was too heavy, too solidly rooted to the ground. His arm began to tremble from exhaustion.
"Tch, looks like it's still tough for me to lift iron this heavy directly," he muttered to himself, his voice strained.
At that instant, his sharp eyes darted around, scanning the battlefield below for anything—anything—he could use.
Then, he saw it. A faint glint on the asphalt.
A concrete nail!
In that moment, his left hand moved with eerie calm. His fist unclenched. He extended his index and middle fingers, making them straight and rigid.
His eyes narrowed, channeling all his remaining focus on the tiny object below.
With a quick, sharp flick of his wrist, he released his magnetic pull.
TWANG!
The sound was music to his ears.
The concrete nail pierced the robot's head!
Instantly, the robot jerked violently, its entire frame convulsing as if electrocuted. The wrecking arm pressing against the magnetic field lost power, its motors emitting a dying groan.
Its systems short-circuited catastrophically!
With his remaining strength, the man dispersed his repulsion field and converted it into a powerful magnetic pull.
The robot's core, now exposed due to the short-circuit disabling its shielding, was yanked forcibly from its chest cavity.
With a gripping motion from his trembling right fingers, the object shot through the air and landed smoothly in his open palm.
He ripped the robot's core right out of its chest!
Below him, the metal behemoth finally died. Its optic lens dimmed, and its massive, heavy body collapsed forward, creating a thunderous crash that shook the ground as it slammed into the asphalt.
The robot toppled!
At that moment, with controlled motion, the man let his metal platform disintegrate, crashing back to the earth in a satisfying clatter.
He landed feet-first, bending his knees deeply before slowly straightening his body.
He stood with his back to the fallen robot, his shoulders sagging slightly. Then he rolled them a few times, feeling his joints pop softly.
Moments later, very slowly, he tilted his head to the side, pushing it gently until a loud, satisfying crack echoed from his neck bones.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Fuse Yasushi."
"You can call me..."
He took a long breath. His eyelids closed, letting the darkness soothe him for a moment.
When he opened his eyes again, a faint smile etched across his face.
"Fuse."
...
Fuse Yasushi smiled, a confident grin that seemed permanently carved onto his handsome features. Between the nimble fingers of his right hand, a five-hundred-yen coin spun deftly, dancing from one finger to the next without ever faltering. Its gleaming metal caught the morning light, creating small flashes in rhythm with his movements. This was a habit, a small ritual that calmed him—a constant reminder of the extraordinary power dwelling within. He had done this since the first day his Quirk manifested, a moment he considered his true birthday.
With a deft flick of his thumb, he tossed the coin into the air. But instead of following the boring laws of gravity and falling back into his palm, it halted at the peak of its arc. It hovered there, inches above his outstretched hand, spinning slowly on its axis as if displayed on an invisible shelf. The unseen magnetic field that only he could sense and control cradled the coin gently.
A grin of satisfaction bloomed on Fuse's lips. "Perfect," he whispered to himself, his voice laced with unmasked arrogance. This wasn't just a Quirk; this was destiny. The ability to control metal, the fundamental force shaping modern civilization. With this, he wouldn't just become a hero. He would become the number one hero, surpassing all legends that came before.
His mind wandered, filled with visions of the future. What's All Might? he scoffed inwardly. That outdated Symbol of Peace, relying on raw physical strength. What's All For One? A comic-book villain with a convoluted Quirk that'll ultimately lose to plot armor. They're all just NPCs in this grand scenario. He could feel the hum of power at his fingertips, a sensation affirming his conviction. And me? I'm the Main Protagonist. This world is my stage, and the story revolves around me.
The coin snapped back into his hand with a mere twitch of his thoughts, as if responding to its master's certainty. He resumed spinning the cool metal object, his steps steady and purposeful as he walked along the sidewalk toward school.
That's when his eyes caught a familiar figure ahead. The figure was shrouded in black, from clothing to the feathers covering his head. His expression, as usual, was intensely serious and contemplative. It was Fumikage Tokoyami, walking with measured steps in their Bokuno Middle School uniform. Tokoyami was his childhood friend—or more precisely, the first canon character he had successfully approached. To Fuse, the fact that Tokoyami was part of the main storyline made him worthy of the role as "the protagonist's best buddy."
"Fumikage!" Fuse called out, his baritone voice full of energy slicing through the morning bustle. "You handsome little bird! Don't rush off and leave your star behind!"
Tokoyami halted. His entire body tensed for a moment before he let out a long sigh. He turned, his sharp red eyes peering at Fuse from behind his pointed beak. Of course, Fuse interpreted the pause as proof that Tokoyami couldn't resist his charm. Since being reborn in the My Hero Academia world, Fuse had been blessed with exceptional looks. His thick, dark red hair fell in a style that seemed professionally styled, and his matching eyes radiated a nearly blinding confidence. It undoubtedly bred envy in his friend. And Fuse was used to basking in it.
"Could you lower your voice a bit, Fuse?" Tokoyami said in his signature flat tone, his deep voice sounding like a murmur. "You'll make us stand out among the pedestrians."
Fuse chuckled lightly, a crisp sound that made a few passing high school girls glance shyly. He ran a hand through his hair in a motion he'd practiced in the mirror to perfection, then flashed a crooked smile. "What are you talking about? Being the center of attention is natural for me. These people are lucky to catch a glimpse of my handsomeness on such a bright morning! Look around, buddy."
Reluctantly, Tokoyami scanned the area. And sure enough, he noticed several people indeed staring their way. Some smiled, some whispered, and a few even giggled behind their hands. From Fuse's unshakable perspective, it was all concrete proof of his unbeatable allure. They admired him, of course.
Tokoyami's face—or at least the visible parts of his cheeks—flushed slightly. "Whatever," he muttered, then quickly turned and resumed walking, this time at a slightly faster pace.
Fuse caught up effortlessly, then casually slung his arm around Tokoyami's stiff shoulder. "Come on, don't be so shy. Anyway, the U.A. entrance exam is just a few weeks away, right? You excited? This'll be our big debut stage! Imagine the spotlights, Fumikage!"
Tokoyami glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Why do you always frame the Hero Exam as a stage? This isn't a popularity contest, Fuse. It's a serious test that determines our future. The key is thorough preparation and performing well—not putting on a show."
"Blah, blah, blah," Fuse teased, rolling his eyes dramatically. His friend was the epitome of "serious." "You're overthinking it, pal. If we can do both—perform great and look cool doing it—why not? That's what perfection looks like! Showmanship with efficiency!"
"Not everyone has your overflowing energy," Tokoyami replied softly, almost like a whisper to himself.
But Fuse heard it. Of course he did. He smiled inwardly. Who could match a true protagonist's energy anyway? Ha! It's part of the package.
Their walk continued in a comfortable silence—at least comfortable for Fuse, who was busy plotting his epic introduction scene at U.A. in his mind. Soon, the grand gates of Bokuno Middle School came into view. There, amid the crowd of entering students, Fuse's eyes caught another silhouette from their past. His name was Megumi, a boy whose Quirk let him extend his nails by a few centimeters.
Seeing him stirred a clear memory in Fuse's mind, as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. It was the early days of elementary school. Megumi and his gang loved bullying Tokoyami, mocking his unique appearance, calling him "ugly crow" or "night monster." Little Tokoyami could only endure it in silence back then.
Then came Fuse. With all his innate heroism, he saw an opportunity. An "event" where the protagonist could shine. He didn't hesitate. With an invisible wave of his hand, he made the zipper on Megumi's jacket and the metal clips on his shoes suddenly unfasten and clamp shut hard, tripping the kid unceremoniously in front of everyone. When Megumi glared at him in fury, Fuse just stood there, between the bully and Tokoyami, with a challenging smile. He didn't say a word, only manipulated a few coins in his pocket to jingle loudly—a subtle threat Megumi understood. From that day on, the bullying stopped. And from that day, Fumikage Tokoyami became his "friend."
Ha, that was my first heroic act. A sweet little debut. Fuse smiled, his gaze now fixed on the school building ahead, though his thoughts had already drifted far into the future. To the exam arena. To the world stage.
The world might not be ready, but that wasn't his problem. The protagonist had arrived, and the show was about to begin.
…
A/N: Hi there! This is my first time writing a Boku no Hero Academia fanfic. I don't know if it's engaging, so I'm looking forward to your comments! Don't forget to throw a power stone and leave a review to motivate me :)
By the way, I have a Patreon account. My initial intention was to upload faster there... but it seems too soon to do that, hehe. But feel free to stop by, maybe you'd like to take a look :3
https://www.patreon.com/Junxt