In a small, bare apartment room somewhere in Japan.
Puff. Puff. Puff.
— Wake up, sleeping beauty. We've got work to do. — A man with a scruffy beard and the smell of alcohol on his breath spoke as he smacked someone on the bed with a pillow.
Puff. Puff. Puff.
— Nnhsjcwypq… it's not even noon yet, man. Let me sleep. — The guy buried under the blankets muttered.
He grabbed the sheet and pulled it over his head, turning toward the wall and stubbornly refusing to get up.
— Fine. Just don't come crying to me when you don't have money to pay rent. — the pillow-wielding man said before leaving the room.
The words, however, seemed to hit their mark.
Under the covers, the sleepy man twisted his face into a series of irritated grimaces, memories of his bank balance and the harsh reality of life creeping back into his mind.
'Sincerely, a man can't even sleep properly anymore? Fucking capitalism.'
Annoyed at everything and everyone, he suddenly sat up in bed, tossing the sheet down over his legs and revealing his bare upper body.
His body was slender, with a bit of muscle here and there. Several scars crisscrossed his torso, mainly on the right side of his abdomen.
Messy black hair stuck out in every direction, eyes half-open and ringed with exhaustion. Uneven stubble covered his jaw.
The man slowly pushed himself up.
— Uuuaaaah… — he yawned loudly while stretching, then gave his own ass a quick scratch.
…
A few minutes later, the same man who had been swinging a pillow earlier now looked completely different.
He was properly dressed, wearing a suit and carrying a yellow document folder, looking every bit like a businessman or a lawyer. He sat in front of an old computer, old enough to still be running a long-discontinued Windows browser.
Footsteps
— Hey, Kong, have you seen my shoes? — the second man asked as he entered the room.
Now fully awake, he looked far more presentable. A black polo shirt, dark blue jeans. Clean enough to pass in public.
Worth noting: he was barefoot, holding his socks in his hands.
— In the fridge. — the man in the suit replied calmly.
— Why the fuck would anyone put shoes in the fridge? — he muttered as he walked toward the kitchen, not even to look for them, but to grab something to eat.
Until-
— Why the fuck are my shoes in the fridge?! — he shouted.
He returned to the living room holding his shoes and socks in one hand, and a cold bottle of beer in the other.
The man dropped onto the couch to put his shoes on, taking the chance to check the clock hanging on the wall.
10:30.
— It's still early. What's with all the hurry, huh? It's not like you're actually going to do anything.
— Ah, but my dear friend Tatsumi, I do have a very important job to take care of. — Kong said, a sly smile creeping across his face.
— I have an online meeting with a very important potential client who called us last night to learn more about our "specialties." And it is my sacred duty to scam that idiot into thinking you're worth more than a cigarette butt, and get his precious money.
— Uh-huh. Sure. — the man, now identified as Tatsumi, replied before chugging the beer in one go and finishing tying his shoes.
— Hah- cold! Anyway, while you stay here lazing arou-
— That is work. — Kong cut in.
— I'm going out to do real work. — Tatsumi said with a smug expression, as if having a job at all was something to be jealous of.
He left the apartment.
Exactly ten seconds passed.
Door opens
— So… where am I supposed to go again? — Tatsumi asked as he stepped back inside, completely shameless.
Without looking away from the screen, Kong picked up a document from the small table and held it out toward him, as if he had been expecting this.
— Thanks. — Tatsumi said, taking the paper.
This time, he actually left.
...
[Somewhere on the subway]
Tatsumi stood inside the crowded train, one hand gripping the overhead bar while he glanced out the window, trying to figure out where exactly he was.
There was something interesting about the situation.
And it wasn't someone sprawled across multiple seats, or some creep harassing a woman in the packed car.
The diversity among the passengers was striking.
Most of them still looked completely human, but a significant number didn't. Unusual skin colors, strange hair, extra limbs, altered features, small abnormalities scattered throughout the car.
It looked like something straight out of an anime, if it weren't real life.
'An anime, huh… how nice would life be if it actually worked like one? What would mine even be called? Boku no Hero Academia? Nah. Sounds like a kids' show. It'd have to be something more honest… like Boku no Quirkless Life.'
To make sense of all this, we'd have to go back more than a hundred years.
But since everyone already knows this shit, here's the short version:
Man gets powers.
Man likes powers.
Man does a lot of stupid shit with powers.
Man realizes he fucked up and puts laws on powers.
Man who uses powers for good is called a Hero.
Man who uses powers for bad is called a Villain.
Man decides to call powers Quirks.
It's also worth mentioning that after all that time, almost everyone in the world ended up developing a Quirk.
Almost.
Like any rule, there were exceptions, a small, unlucky percentage of people born without one.
Coincidentally or not, Tatsumi Hayama happened to be one of those unlucky few, born completely Quirkless.
The subway screeched as it came to a stop.
The doors slid open and a chaotic mass of people immediately began forcing their way in and out at the same time, bodies pressing together with no real order or patience.
— Move the fuck out of the way, I've got work to do! — Tatsumi shoved his way through the crowd without a shred of ceremony, freely distributing elbow jabs as he passed.
Apparently, being born without a Quirk didn't mean he was born without guts.
...
After a long walk through the city, Tatsumi finally found the place where the job was supposed to be.
To his surprise, it was much closer than he had imagined, especially considering he had spent over half an hour wandering around like a headless cockroach, even with pedestrians giving him perfectly clear directions along the way.
Then again, Tatsumi had never been good with directions, and in his defense, this wasn't his city.
Ding dong
He rang the doorbell of a small hotel room, the kind of cheap two-story building with only a handful of individual rooms on each floor. Far from luxurious, but cozy enough for someone living alone.
'Our apartment's better… it's got three floors.'
The sound of a door opening
The door opened slowly, just a crack. From the narrow gap between the door and the frame, a pair of eyes peeked out, cautious and alert.
— W-w-who are you? — a woman's voice asked.
Still, judging by appearances alone was a mistake. In a world where special powers were handed out randomly, without logic or limits, that voice could just as easily belong to a man, or some unfortunate freak of nature too afraid to step outside and be judged for how they looked.
— Nice to meet you. I'm Tatsumi Hayama. I'm with HK Special Services and Private Security. I was officially hired as a temporary bodyguard for a client staying in this building.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a worn wallet, opening it calmly to show his ID, documents, and the authorization papers, holding them up just long enough to be read without forcing them into her hands.
— Former Ground Self-Defense Forces. Corporal. I was discharged a few years back. Since then, I've been doing private security work and others short-term jobs. That's all.
He lowered the documents, slipping them back into his pocket.
— If you have any questions, ask them now. Otherwise, I'll just be here to make sure nothing happens.
A hand suddenly shot out through the narrow opening in the door.
It was so fast that Tatsumi only caught a glimpse of a dark blur before the documents were snatched straight out of his hand without a shred of courtesy.
— Hey!
The door slammed shut in his face.
Locked.
From the other side, the faint sound of rustling paper followed, along with muffled murmurs. Whoever was in there was clearly going through the documents one by one, checking, rereading, probably comparing every line like their life depended on it.
Tatsumi let out a slow breath through his nose.
He knocked on the door again, harder this time.
— You know, basic manners are still a thing. — he raised his voice.
— Those are my documents. You could at least not steal them.
No answer.
He knocked once more, irritation seeping into his tone.
— If you're done satisfying your paranoia, I'd appreciate getting my stuff back.
A few seconds passed.
Then a few more.
Finally, the sound of the lock turning echoed from the other side.
The door opened slowly.
This time, enough for her to step fully into view.
— S-sorry… um… it's just that some strange people have been coming here lately, and I got scared you might not really be who you said you were… here. — she said, forcing herself to open the door all the way as she handed the documents back, clearly uncomfortable with the prolonged interaction.
Tatsumi took the documents back and gave her a brief look, one eyebrow lifting slightly.
Not because there was anything bizarre or unsettling about her appearance.
But because, for all her paranoia and nervous behavior, she looked painfully normal, in a world where randomness had long stopped being surprising.
Up close, the reason for her hesitation became obvious. She carried herself like someone who wasn't used to being seen, shoulders slightly hunched, posture guarded, fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of her jacket as if she needed something to hide behind at all times.
It was clear as day that social interaction didn't come naturally to her, and every movement suggested she was already planning her escape back inside the room.
She was an adult woman with long brown hair that fell past her mid back in a slightly unkempt way. Large, round prescription glasses sat on her face, magnifying eyes that refused to stay still for long, always darting away the moment they risked meeting his.
What stood out was the contrast.
She wore a full pink tracksuit, modest and oversized, with darker pink details along the sleeves and seams, the kind of outfit chosen specifically to avoid showing skin.
Despite that, it did a poor job of hiding her boombastic figure. Her chest was noticeably large, the fabric stretched just enough to betray it, making her look awkwardly self-conscious about something she clearly wished people wouldn't notice.
Low self-esteem clung to her like a second skin.
And yet, objectively, she was very attractive, the kind of beauty that didn't come from confidence or effort, but existed in spite of her attempts to disappear.
The two kept staring at each other.
Tatsumi watched her impassively, his expression firm and unreadable.
Under that gaze, the introverted woman slowly began to shrink into herself. Her back bent slightly, shoulders rising as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying, without realizing it, to make herself smaller. It was an instinctive reaction, born from clear social anxiety.
— U-um… is there something wrong? — she asked timidly, hesitating before lifting her eyes again. — I-is there something on my face?
Tatsumi frowned slightly.
— I should be the one asking — he replied. — Aren't you going to introduce yourself, woman?
Her eyes widened.
Only then did she realize what she had done. Flustered, she straightened up in a rush and bowed sharply, a full ninety degrees.
— I-I'M MISAKI HOSHINO! — she blurted out, almost shouting despite her weak, trembling voice. — N-nice to meet you!
She stayed bowed for a moment longer than necessary, frozen in place.
Tatsumi simply looked at her in silence.
'Yeah… she's a handful.'