The click of the latch sounded like a vault sealing shut. Good. Privacy at last.
I leaned against the door, surveying the catastrophe before me. Izuku Midoriya's bedroom wasn't just a living space—it was a shrine. All Might's toothy grin beamed from every conceivable surface: posters plastered across walls, figurines crowding shelves, bedsheets emblazoned with that same insufferable smile.
"This place is a disaster," I muttered, running my fingers along a limited-edition action figure still in its packaging. "The bedspread alone is birth control. How am I supposed to bring a woman back here?"
I sank onto the bed, grimacing as All Might's face crinkled beneath me. The whole room would need an overhaul, but that was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight was about intelligence gathering.
My eyes landed on a bookshelf crammed with notebooks. Each spine bore the same meticulous label: "Hero Analysis for the Future" followed by a volume number. Twenty volumes in total.
"Great. His diary collection." I plucked one at random—Volume 13—expecting schoolboy gushing and hearts drawn around hero names.
What I found instead made me sit up straight.
The pages contained detailed sketches of heroes in action, anatomical breakdowns of how their Quirks affected their physiology, notes on support equipment specifications, and frame-by-frame analyses of special moves. Timing data. Range limitations. Recovery periods between Quirk activations. Environmental factors that enhanced or hindered performance.
Most interestingly: detailed hypotheses about potential weaknesses.
"Well, well, well." I flipped through more pages, my respect grudgingly growing.
I grabbed several more volumes, spreading them across the bed. Each book followed the same meticulous format but showcased different heroes. The analysis grew more sophisticated with each volume. By Volume 20, Izuku was predicting combat outcomes between heroes and villains who had never fought, based purely on statistical models he'd developed himself.
"Naive but brilliant," I concluded, closing the final volume. "He understood the mechanisms but missed the implications."
These weren't just hero journals—they were assassination guides. Each notebook contained enough information to neutralize its subjects. Izuku had unwittingly created a blueprint for villain success, all while worshiping the very people he was dissecting.
I chuckled. "Thanks for the leg up, kid."
Pushing aside the hero notebooks, I pulled open the desk drawer and found a sleek black notebook—clean, unmarked, and perfect for my purposes. I settled at the computer, notebook open beside me, and cracked my knuckles.
Twenty volumes of hero data was a start, but I needed to understand the entire ecosystem they operated within.
The clock read 10:14 PM when I began my research.
By 3:47 AM, I had filled thirty-eight pages with notes and had sixteen browser tabs open.
"Martial arts versus Quirks," I murmured, typing the search term and scanning results. "Traditional forms would be useless against a pyrokinetic...unless you adapt. Joint locks, nerve strikes...the human body is still the human body. Focus on closing the distance before they can activate."
I scribbled notes on counter-techniques for various Quirk categories.
"Quirk emergence global impact," I typed next.
The results painted a fascinating picture. The appearance of Quirks hadn't just changed history; it had fractured it. Old power structures—governments, militaries—had become secondary to individuals with godlike abilities. Society had restructured around the worship of personal power.
"A perfect breeding ground for instability," I noted, sketching a basic sociological model. "Power concentrated in individuals rather than institutions creates constant disruption. Heroes are the living nuclear deterrents."
I continued my research spiral, branching into economic impacts, legislative frameworks, and social stratification. The results were uniformly grim for the Quirkless.
"Professional sports Quirk regulations," I typed.
As expected: separate leagues. Segregation at every level. The "Quirkless Olympics" had one-eighth the viewership of its Quirked counterpart. Salaries followed the same disparity.
I leaned back, rubbing my eyes. The pattern was clear: a society where personal power determined your station, and those without it were treated as second-class citizens. No wonder Izuku had been so desperate to believe he might develop a Quirk late.
My mind circled back to Inko's words at dinner. "Accept reality." "Late bloomers." Her eyes swimming with tears. Now I understood. She wasn't giving her son a sex talk—she was trying to help him accept his permanent disadvantage in a world built around powers he would never possess.
I tapped my pen against the desk, a rhythm matching my thoughts. The entity that brought me here had promised me the means to fulfill my desires: power, wealth, recognition.
Yet it had placed me in a Quirkless body in a world where such individuals were systematically marginalized.
"To obtain, something of equal value must be lost," I wrote in the black notebook, circling the words. "I lost a Quirk. A massive disadvantage in this world. So what of 'equal value' did I gain in return?"
My mind flashed back to the void. The voice's exact words echoed: "Accept my gift, and fulfill your wish. Seize the power, the wealth, the adoration you crave. Make them remember your name."
It wasn't just resurrection. It was a trade.
I hadn't been screwed over—I'd been given something in exchange for this Quirkless state. The gift. But what was it? My analytical mind? My photographic memory? My tactical genius? These were abilities I'd already possessed before death.
No, it had to be something new. Something specific to this world.
A sharp pain lanced through my skull, interrupting my train of thought. I groaned, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes. The sheer volume of information from the past twenty-four hours—death, rebirth, a new world, a new family, a new body, a new mystery—crashed down on me at once.
"Too much," I muttered, massaging my temples. My ambition temporarily checked by simple biological exhaustion. My genius mind was trapped in the body of a sleep-deprived teenager.
I closed the black notebook—my new manifesto—and stood. I stretched, feeling the limitations of Izuku's underdeveloped body. Another disadvantage to overcome.
"I need rest," I whispered. "But tomorrow, I start finding answers. I will locate this gift, and I will make it my weapon."
===
I woke to sunlight streaming through parted curtains and the distant sound of activity in the kitchen. Inko was up, likely preparing breakfast.
I sat up, stretching muscles stiff from hunching over the computer. Despite my exhaustion, my mind felt sharper after sleep. The confusion of yesterday had crystallized into clear priorities:
Identify the nature of my "gift"
Build the physical capabilities of this body
Leverage Izuku's hero analysis to my advantage
I glanced at my bedside clock: 6:42 AM. School started at 8:30. Plenty of time to begin the day properly.
First order of business: physical assessment. I stood before the mirror in boxers, examining my new body clinically. Izuku Midoriya wasn't exactly blessed with genetic advantages. Below average height, slim build, minimal muscle definition. No visible scarring or deformities. Decent bone structure beneath the baby fat in his cheeks.
I prodded at my abdomen, disappointed by the softness I found there. "Completely untrained," I noted with distaste. "We'll fix that."
Dropping to the floor, I attempted a simple set of push-ups. I managed twelve before my arms began to shake. Pathetic, but fixable. I made a mental note to develop a training regimen immediately.
After a quick shower, I returned to the bedroom and opened the closet. School uniforms hung in neat rows, alongside casual clothes that looked like they'd been selected by a colorblind grandmother. Nothing remotely stylish or mature.
"Another area for improvement," I muttered.
The smell of cooking drew me to the kitchen, where Inko stood at the stove, humming softly as she prepared breakfast. She wore the same pale blue apron as yesterday, her hair tied back in a practical bun.
"Good morning," I said, keeping my voice friendly but not overly warm.
Inko turned, her face lighting up. "Izuku! Good morning. How did you sleep?"
"Fine," I replied, taking a seat at the table. "What's for breakfast?"
"Just some rolled omelets and miso soup," she said, bringing over a plate. "I made sure to add extra vegetables. Growing boys need their nutrients!"
I examined the food. Simple but well-prepared. "Looks good. Thanks."
She beamed at the praise, settling across from me with her own plate. "Do you have any plans after school today?"
I took a bite of the omelet. It was light, fluffy, and perfectly seasoned. "I might look into some fitness training," I answered truthfully. "This body could use some work."
Her chopsticks paused midway to her mouth. "Fitness training?"
"Nothing serious," I assured her, noting her concern. "Just some basic strength building. Push-ups, sit-ups, that sort of thing."
"Oh." She relaxed slightly. "That sounds... good. Just don't push yourself too hard, okay?"
I nodded, continuing to eat while internally mapping out the training schedule I would implement. This body needed significant work before it would be combat-ready.
"Will you be late today?" she asked.
"Shouldn't be," I replied.
After breakfast, I gathered what I assumed were Izuku's school supplies, packing them into a worn yellow backpack. As I prepared to leave, Inko appeared at the door, holding a bento box wrapped in a green cloth.
"Don't forget your lunch," she said, pressing it into my hands.
The simple act caught me off guard. When was the last time someone had packed a lunch for me? Had anyone ever?
"Thanks," I said, taking the bento and tucking it into my bag.
Her eyes lingered on my face, searching for something. "Have a good day at school, sweetie. And... Izuku?"
"Yes?"
"I know things haven't been... easy. But I'm always here for you." Her voice carried a weight I couldn't fully decode.
I nodded, unsure how to respond to this unexpected show of maternal concern. "I know."
Outside, I paused at the apartment complex entrance, considering my route. According to my research, Aldera High School was approximately 2.3 kilometers away. A perfect distance for a morning jog.
I set off at a steady pace, using the time to further organize my thoughts. The question of my "gift" remained central. If not a Quirk, then what? The entity's phrasing suggested something specific, something powerful enough to counterbalance the disadvantage of Quirklessness.
As I ran, I mentally reviewed everything I'd experienced since awakening in this body. My senses seemed normal, perhaps slightly sharper than I remembered from my previous life, but nothing extraordinary. My intellect was as formidable as ever. My memories of my past life remained intact, though fragmented in places.
What else could it be?
By the time Aldera High appeared in the distance—a plain, functional building of concrete and glass—I had developed three hypotheses about my gift:
Enhanced cognitive function beyond what was apparent
A hidden ability triggered only by specific circumstances
Accelerated Development
Without more data, I couldn't narrow it down further. I slowed to a walk as I approached the school gates, observing the students streaming inside. Average teenagers in standard uniforms, chatting in groups, completely unaware that a dead man walked among them.
I straightened my shoulders and fixed a neutral expression on my face. Time for the next phase of reconnaissance: social infiltration. I would observe, analyze, and identify potential allies and threats. By day's end, I would have a comprehensive understanding of Izuku Midoriya's school life and how best to leverage it for my purposes.
The school bell rang, marking the official start of my first day. I stepped through the gates, already cataloging faces and interactions. This was just another battlefield, and I had always excelled at warfare.
"Let's see what you're hiding, Aldera High," I murmured, a cold smile touching my lips as I entered the building.
•••
If you like the action and power system of JJK and the "romance" of DxD, then you will love my new story: Demon Seer!