The wind carrying the scent of char and lime dust brushed against Fuse Yasushi's face.
He stood tall, his shoulders slightly slumped. Dried sweat left traces of salt on his temples, while his breathing, though regulated to appear calm, sounded a bit heavy, clashing with the high-altitude wind's whisper.
From where he stood, the world below looked like a messy chessboard.
However, Fuse's attention wasn't on the tiny pawns running in panic.
His dark red eyes were locked on the horizon where a giant shadow began to rise.
The ground trembled with tectonic shakes that propagated up through the steel structure of the building where he stood, tickling the soles of his feet encased in shoes.
From behind the veil of rising dust, the Zero-Point Robot revealed itself. A mechanical monstrosity, one could say, so massive that its presence seemed to erase the sun, turning day into a grim, ashen dusk.
Fuse's jaw dropped slightly, the muscles around his mouth tensing. His pupils dilated, trying to accommodate the absurd scale of that iron beast.
"Whoa, that's huge," he whispered. His voice nearly drowned out by the distant roar of massive gears turning.
He leaned his body slightly forward, crossing the safe boundary of the rooftop railing. His hand gripped the iron railing, his knuckles turning white, as if adrenaline suddenly surged, flooding his weary veins.
"I'm curious..." Fuse muttered, his eyes narrowing, calculating probabilities, measuring the metal mass before him with his pulsing magnetic instinct. "Can I destroy that robot in an instant?"
Down below, amid the rubble of shattered streets, Ochaco Uraraka, the girl with a round face now covered in dust, lay helpless. Her leg was pinned under debris, her eyes frozen wide, her lips parted in silent shock as the shadow of that giant hand crept down toward her like a judge's hammer ready to deliver a death sentence.
At that moment, Izuku Midoriya, the boy who had previously seemed as fragile as a dry twig, moved against the current, with determination that scorched the air around him.
Fuse straightened his body back. His grip on the iron railing loosened. The corner of his lips pulled upward, forming a complex smile, with a hint of relief.
"Let it be, maybe next time," he said, his voice calm. He pivoted his heel slightly, positioning his body sideways from the scene, as if giving room for fate to work. "After all, this isn't my stage."
But that doesn't mean the spectator has to sit idly by, right?
As he uttered those words, the air around Fuse's body began to distort.
His magnetic field, which had been dormant due to fatigue, now awakened with a silent roar.
From his jacket pocket, from the crevices of rubble on the roof, and from the remnants of destroyed robots around him, metals began to lift. Rusty concrete nails, nuts, bolts, even sharp steel plate fragments—all floated, orbiting his body like asteroid rings around a planet.
Fuse didn't look at those metals. His eyes remained fixed on the drama below.
However, his hand hanging at his side moved slightly. His fingers danced.
"Get out of the way, extras," he muttered.
With one mental snap, the metal storm exploded.
ZING! ZING! ZING!
Those small objects were fired. Each nail and bolt shot in all directions, away from Fuse, toward the streets below and the buildings across where smaller point robots still roamed hunting prey.
Their speed broke the sound barrier, leaving trails of distortion in the air.
In the distance, a 2-Point robot targeting another participant suddenly exploded, its chest pierced by a bolt as small as a pinky finger carrying momentum equivalent to a tank cannon shell.
A 3-Point robot in the opposite building lost its head in the blink of an eye, struck by a steel plate fragment without even turning.
Fuse's smile became clearer, widening to reveal his teeth.
He savored this sensation of absolute control!
At that moment, Izuku Midoriya leaped. His body shot into the air, defying gravity, his fist raised toward the metal giant's face.
Instantly, time seemed to slow for Fuse.
He could see One For All energy coursing through Midoriya's arm, glowing red veins.
SMASH!
The impact created a real shockwave. A man-made hurricane swept the entire city sector, blowing away dust, glass, and debris.
The giant robot's face crumpled inward, metal as thick as fortress walls caving like tin foil.
The resulting explosion of sound made ears ring instantly.
Fuse narrowed his eyes and raised one hand to shield his face from the fierce wind reaching the rooftop where he stood.
His cloak and red hair billowed wildly backward.
"Just like in the anime scene..." he muttered amid the wind's roar, his tone amused and admiring. "Ugh, I feel like a cheater for knowing the future."
He lowered his hand as the wind subsided, and the giant robot began to topple backward in a slow, majestic motion, triggering aftershocks as its body hit the ground.
Fuse whistled long, his pitch clear and piercing through the post-explosion silence. He nodded slightly, giving appreciation like a satisfied art critic.
"That was flashy," he said. "A good show to watch."
In the sky, Midoriya's now broken and limp body began to fall. But Fuse was no longer looking up.
For him, the climax scene was over.
Now it was time for his personal epilogue.
His shoulders dropped drastically. He let out a long sigh to release the tightness in his chest.
An overwhelming fatigue hit him again!
That mass use of his quirk earlier, though it looked easy, had drained the remaining glucose in his brain!
"Hah... so tiring," he complained softly.
He walked unsteadily toward the building's edge. Instead of looking for stairs, he did something crazy for ordinary people.
He jumped!
As his body passed the roof's lip, his hand in his pocket moved slightly.
Below him, a dented old car hood floated up, catching his feet.
He landed on it with a heavy clunk.
From there, he stepped down into empty air, where a steel safe door awaited his footstep.
He descended stepwise, using massive metal debris—motorcycle chassis, car doors, iron beams—as floating steps he created in real-time.
Both hands remained in his pockets, his gaze straight ahead, while the metals shifted and adjusted to his footing.
Finally, the sole of his shoe touched the dusty ground.
He began walking across the now devastated streets. His steps slow, slightly dragged.
His destination was where Midoriya and Uraraka were.
Around him, remaining functional robots detected his presence. A 1-Point robot crawled out from an alley, its sensors glowing red, ready to pounce on Fuse's exposed back.
Fuse didn't even glance. He didn't turn. He didn't stop walking.
As the robot leaped, Fuse's index finger in his jacket pocket merely twitched.
Whoosh! STAB!
A floating rebar nearby suddenly spun and pierced the robot's head from the side, shutting it down instantly in mid-air.
The robot's carcass fell with a thud just one meter behind Fuse!
Fuse kept walking.
Another robot tried to shoot from the front.
Before the bullet exited, its barrel bent upward on its own, exploding its own head.
Fuse kept walking. He passed through fire, through smoke, through iron carcasses. His face calm, his eyes staring straight at Midoriya, who was now trying to crawl, his face smeared with tears and dust, muttering, "Now... if... I can get... just one point... !!!"
Fuse stopped a few steps from them.
He saw the despair on Midoriya's face, the real pain from broken bones.
He tilted his head up, staring at the blue sky now starting to be covered in black smoke.
At that moment, a loud siren echoed throughout the artificial city, followed by Present Mic's booming voice.
"THE EXAM IS OVER!"
Hearing that, the corner of his lips lifted, forming a smile. "Perfect timing."
…
Thin steam still rose from behind the open bathroom door, carrying the refreshing scent of soap into the Yasushi family home's corridor. Fuse stepped out, his wet dark red hair combed back with his fingers, dripping small water droplets onto the towel casually draped around his neck. He wore a plain white T-shirt and loose shorts, a look far from 'superhero,' but for Fuse, even sleepwear seemed like a cloak of grandeur if he wore it.
He walked toward the living room with light steps, as if gravity had decided to be kind to him after tormenting him all day in the exam area.
At the dining table, his parents were sitting, perhaps discussing bills or evening news, but Fuse passed them without a glance.
His lips pursed, whistling a tune perfect for welcoming his victory, as he turned toward the kitchen.
His goal was clear: The fridge. Or more specifically, the freezer.
Inside that cooling box, he thought gleefully, lay a reward fit for the champion. A tub of double chocolate ice cream whose taste he had imagined since destroying the last robot that afternoon. The cold sweetness was the only thing that could soothe his burned-out brain nerves.
With a dramatic motion, he yanked open the freezer door. Cold air hit his face, providing a delightful chill.
However, the smile on his face froze instantly.
His red eyes scanned the freezer's contents. There was frozen meat. There were peas. There were ice cubes.
But there, where its throne should be, was only emptiness. Empty. Nothing.
The music in his head stopped abruptly like a record scratched forcibly.
It seemed the world, jealous of his achievement today, planned to break his spirit at the finish line.
There wasn't a single ice cream there!
Fuse frowned, his brows knitting in deep disbelief. He turned slightly toward the dining room and shouted, his voice carrying a Shakespearean tragedy tone.
"Mom! Where's my victory ice cream?! Who dared to move it?!"
Silence for a moment. Then his mother's voice came, calm and a bit confused, floating from the dining room.
"What victory ice cream, Fuse? You finished the last ice cream in the fridge two days ago, remember? You stood in front of the fridge at two in the morning and said you needed to be in a good mood for something called 'success.'"
Fuse fell silent. The memory vaguely returned to him. An image of his anxious self before the exam, eating ice cream straight from the container with a large spoon.
He stared at the freezer in silence for a few seconds, feeling betrayed by his past self. 'Damn past Fuse,' he cursed inwardly. 'He really didn't think about this grand future Fuse.'
With an annoyed huff, Fuse closed the fridge door. A bit harder than intended, making some magnets on it shift.
"Well, who cares about stupid ice cream?" he muttered to himself, trying to restore his slightly cracked pride. "Victory is victory. I don't need milk and sugar to make it sweet. The taste of success is sweet enough on my tongue."
He turned his body and walked back to the living room, trying to look unbothered. He dropped himself onto the soft sofa, grabbed the TV remote, and turned it on.
With a very casual—and slightly rude—motion, he lifted both feet and placed them on the coffee table, crossing his ankles. The pose of a king at rest.
The TV screen lit up, showing a children's cartoon channel.
There, a hero in a tacky yellow and green spandex costume was yelling about justice while helping an old lady cross the street. The animation was stiff, and the voice too loud.
"DON'T BE AFRAID, GRANNY! I'M HERE! JUSTICE WILL GUIDE YOUR STEPS!"
Fuse snorted dismissively, but he didn't change the channel. His mind wandered far from the screen. His eyes stared blankly at the cartoon hero, but his thoughts were busy weaving future scenarios.
What kind of hero will I shape later? he thought. The mysterious type emerging from darkness? No, that's too Tokoyami. How about the type who always arrives at the last second when all hope is lost? Hmm... cliché, but effective. But that means I have to wait for others to get beaten up first. A bit troublesome.
He imagined himself floating down from the sky, red cloak billowing, magnets controlling debris around him to form a throne.
No, that's too villainous. I need a balance between grandeur and... greater grandeur.
"Are you sure you're watching this?"
A deep voice beside him made Fuse jolt violently. His shoulders jumped, and his feet nearly slipped off the table.
He had been so lost in his fantasy that he hadn't noticed his father, Isamu, already sitting on the single sofa next to him.
Damn! Fuse thought. How can this old man erase his presence? Does he have a hidden assassin Quirk?! Unforgivable! I let my guard down!
Fuse quickly composed himself, putting on a flat face as if he hadn't just been startled half to death.
"No," Fuse said, his voice calm. "I'm not really watching. I'm thinking about some philosophical things on hero existence. Just change the channel, Dad. I don't need to watch cheap superheroes when I myself am the true definition of a superhero."
Isamu sipped his coffee slowly, his eyes glancing at Fuse's feet still perched on his beloved wooden coffee table.
"A superhero doesn't put feet on the table, Fuse," his father said in a flat but firm tone. "Especially a table your mom just cleaned."
Fuse didn't lower his feet.
Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not an ordinary superhero, Dad! That's what sets them apart! Conventional rules don't apply to those at the top of the food chain."
"Lower them, or I'll cut your victory allowance," Isamu replied without looking at him, his eyes now on the newspaper he held.
Fuse's feet came down from the table in less than a second. "Tch. Economic threat. Weapon of the weak."
Isamu hid a small smile behind his coffee cup. "So," he started the conversation, folding his newspaper and placing it on his lap.
"How was the exam? You came home with a face full of dust and went straight to the bathroom without talking. Usually, you'd hold a press conference in the living room right away."
Fuse leaned back on the sofa, stretching his arms on the backrest. "What needs to be discussed? Everything went according to script. Those robots... pathetic. They crumbled even before I had a chance to break a sweat, metaphorically, of course."
"Metaphor?" Sakura appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray of cold watermelon slices.
She placed it on the table, now free of Fuse's feet, and sat beside her husband. "Your dirty clothes say otherwise. Smelling of sweat and char. You worked hard there, Fuse."
Fuse took a slice of watermelon. The cold and sweet taste slightly eased his disappointment over the ice cream. "That was just for dramatic effect, Mom. A hero needs to look a bit dirty so the common folk can 'relate.' If I came out spotless, they'd think I was a robot."
"Was there anything else?" Isamu asked. "I heard from a colleague whose kid took the exam last year, there's usually one big gimmick at the end."
Fuse chewed his watermelon, recalling the towering Zero-Point Robot and Midoriya's shadow leaping toward it.
"Oh, that," Fuse replied in a feigned bored tone, waving his hand holding the watermelon rind. "There was one. Huge. Building-sized. Really a budget-wasting design."
"And? Did you destroy it?" his mother asked enthusiastically.
Fuse shook his head slowly, his eyes closed as if savoring his own wisdom. "No. I let it be."
"Let it be?" Isamu's brow rose.
"Look, Dad," Fuse straightened his posture, ready to lecture. "A true hero knows when to fight and when to give the stage to others. If I destroyed everything, what would be left for the rest? It'd be boring. So, with extraordinary generosity, I let that robot stay intact... well, until some other kid recklessly jumped at it."
"So you ran?" Isamu concluded.
"Tactical strategic retreat!" Fuse corrected quickly, his face slightly flushing. "My magnetic energy is precious, Dad. Not worth wasting on zero-point junk. That's called resource management efficiency. You should understand."
Sakura laughed softly, a crisp and warm sound. "Whatever your reason, Mom's glad you came home safe and sound. No broken bones, no serious injuries. That's the real victory for Mom."
Fuse looked at his mother for a moment. The gentleness in her voice always managed to pierce through his thick ego layer a bit.
"Of course I'm safe," Fuse muttered, taking a second watermelon slice. "The world isn't ready to lose this handsome face."
…
A/N: Hey, I'm back! Nice to meet you all again! This might be a bit late, but I finally managed to upload it. Sorry for making you wait, I hope there are still some anticipating and reading this. I'm looking forward to your comments!