The Akagi household was silent, save for the anxious tapping of Hana's foot against the floor.
On the kitchen table sat the thick, official envelope from UA High. It looked heavy and expensive.
Haruto sat across from it, leaning back with his hands behind his head. To his mom, he looked like a statue of calm. To the "audience" in his head, he was simply checking the clock for the precise moment the plot was scheduled to advance.
"Haruto, just open it," Hana whispered,
"Whatever it says, I'm proud of you. I just... I want to know."
"Relax, Mom. The narrative pacing suggests a positive outcome," Haruto said, finally reaching for the letter. "Besides, I did the math. My points-per-minute ratio was top-tier, even without the 'Heroic Sacrifice' bonus."
He ripped the seal, and a small metal disc clattered onto the table. A holographic projection flickered to life, casting a blue glow over the kitchen.
But instead of the booming, muscle-bound face of All Might that most students were seeing, the image was of a man who looked like he hadn't slept since the dawn of the Quirk Era.
Shota Aizawa stared out of the hologram with bloodshot eyes, a massive yellow sleeping bag draped over his shoulder like a discarded cocoon.
"Haruto Akagi," the man rasped, sounding equal parts bored and suspicious. "I'm Shota Aizawa. I'll be your homeroom teacher. Usually, the school sends a flashier greeting with more... shouting. But the principal decided I should be the one to talk to you directly."
Hana gasped, clutching her chest. Haruto just raised an eyebrow, noting the teacher's exhausted "Logic-Type" energy.
"You scored forty-two villain points," Aizawa continued, leaning closer to the lens. "Which is unprecedented for someone using a screwdriver and high-tension wire.
You were efficient, you didn't waste movement, and you didn't seek out glory. You also have zero rescue points. You watched a fellow student risk their life and chose to stay back. Some call that pragmatism. I call it a calculated risk."
Aizawa let out a heavy, soul-weary sigh. "The board spent hours debating whether your 'tools' constituted a violation. In the end, the Principal decided that if the villains are disabled, the method is irrelevant. You passed the written and the practical. Welcome to Class 1-A. Don't make me regret this."
The hologram flickered out, leaving the kitchen in sudden darkness.
The silence lasted exactly three seconds before Hana let out a sob of pure joy and tackled Haruto into a hug that nearly bypassed his "Hardware 2.0" durability.
'System Update: Tutorial Complete,' Haruto thought, his face pressed into his mother's apron as he thought
'Next saga starts tomorrow. Expectation: A quiet first day. Reality: Aizawa is going to try to expel me within the first hour for not being Plus Ultra enough. It's going to be a five-star episode.'
*********<>*********
The morning air was crisp, the kind of weather that usually signaled a high-budget opening credits sequence.
Haruto adjusted the strap of his yellow backpack, feeling the familiar weight of his "utility kit" tucked hidden beneath his notebooks.
He was busy mentally tagging the NPCs passing him on the sidewalk when a familiar vibration entered his sensory radius.
"HARUTO! HARUTO, LOOK! THE TIE! I ACTUALLY TIED THE TIE!"
A UA girl's blazer and skirt came barreling around the corner, weaving through a group of salarymen like a heat-seeking missile. Toru Hagakure wasn't just walking; she was radiating a level of hype that threatened to break the frame.
Haruto stopped, his hands in his pockets, and watched the floating uniform skidding to a halt in front of him.
"Ghost-chan," Haruto said, his smirk playing on his lips as he looked exactly where her frantic, invisible eyes were. "I see you've mastered the 'Formal Attire' DLC. Though, technically, your tie is about three degrees off-center. It's ruining the symmetry of the shot."
"Oh, hush! I had to watch three YoTube tutorials and I think I still accidentally choked myself twice!" The sleeves of her blazer flew up, gesturing wildly toward the massive gates in the distance.
"Can you believe it? We're actually going! We're UA students! I saw the mail truck yesterday and I literally did a backflip. I think I scared the mailman because, you know, floating pajamas doing gymnastics, but who cares! We're in Class 1-A!"
Haruto started walking again, with the invisible girl bouncing along beside him like a glitchy sidekick.
"Class 1-A," Haruto repeated, his voice dropping into that low, narrating tone. "The 'Elite' tier. We're officially sharing a room with the human equivalent of a walking explosion and a kid who's basically a half-and-half freezer burned steak. It's going to be a nightmare for the power-scaling."
"You're doing the 'weird talk' again!" Toru giggled, her empty sleeve looping through his arm in a familiar, grounding gesture. "But seriously, Haruto... you're the only person I know who got in without a Quirk. Everyone at the exam was talking about the 'Ghost of Center B' who was dismantling robots with a toolbox."
"I prefer the term 'System Optimizer,' Ghost-chan. But don't worry. Today's the first day. We've got a homeroom teacher who looks like he lives on a diet of caffeine and spite. I give it ten minutes before he tries to 'logic' us into an early retirement."
"Aw, don't be such a pessimist! It's going to be great! New friends, new hero costumes—oh! My costume is going to be so cool, Haruto! You won't even be able to see it!"
"That's... literally the point of your existence, Toru," Haruto muttered, though his eyes were fixed on the towering 'UA' gates ahead.
'System Status: Deployment Phase,' he thought. 'Target: Room 1-A. Objective: Don't get expelled before lunch. Let's see if these Heroes are ready for a player who doesn't follow the manual.'
****
The massive door to Class 1-A loomed ahead, designed for students with "Growth Quirks" or just a very inflated sense of importance.
Haruto stood before it, his hands deep in his pockets, while Toru vibrated with enough kinetic energy to power a small city beside him.
"It's huge!" Toru squeaked, her sleeves reaching up to trace the frame. "Do you think there's a giant in our class? Oh, Haruto, what if it's a literal giant? I'll have to be so careful not to get stepped on!"
"Relax, Ghost-chan," Haruto muttered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the wood grain. "It's just 'Aesthetic Intimidation.' The school spent half the budget on oversized carpentry just to make us feel small before the first bell. It's a classic psychological debuff."
He reached out and slid the door open with a slow, deliberate click.
The room was already a hive of "Main Character" energy. In the second row, Turbo-Nerd (Iida) was mid-chop, as he lectured a boy who was currently using a desk as a footrest.
"Remove your feet from that desk immediately!" Iida roared, his glasses catching the light. "It is an insult to the upperclassmen who studied here and the craftsmen who carved it!"
The boy with the spiky, ash-blonde hair didn't even flinch. He just leaned back, a jagged, predatory smirk on his face.
"Like I give a damn, Four-Eyes. Which middle school did you crawl out of, anyway? Some place for losers?"
"I am from Somei Private Academy!" Iida shouted, clutching his chest.
Haruto stepped into the room, his "Mercenary" brain already tagging the threats.
Target A: The Human Claymore (Bakugo). High explosive yield, zero social battery. Avoid direct eye contact unless you want a face full of nitroglycerin.
Target B: The Engine-Legged Bureaucrat (Iida). High speed, low flexibility. Great for a distraction, terrible at parties.
Target C: The Broccoli-kun (Midoriya). Currently standing by the door, looking like he's about to have a nervous breakdown.
'And here we go,' Haruto thought. 'The Aggressive Rival and the 'Rule-Follower' are already engaged in their scripted conflict. It's like watching a cutscene you can't skip.'
Iida's head snapped toward the door. He marched toward Haruto and Midoriya with the intensity of a runaway train.
He stopped mid-sentence as Haruto stepped into his personal space. Haruto didn't look aggressive; he just looked incredibly bored, like a man who had already seen this episode three times and was waiting for the commercial break.
"Alright, alright, Turbo-Nerd. Take a breath," Haruto said, his voice dropping into a casual, almost helpful drone. He reached out and lightly tapped Iida's rigid shoulder. "If you keep your blood pressure this high, your 'Engine' is going to stall before we even get to homeroom. It's bad for the long-term character development."
Iida blinked, his arm freezing mid-air. "Character... development? My blood pressure is within optimal—"
"I'm sure it is," Haruto interrupted, flashing a quick, crooked grin that lacked his usual predatory edge. "Look, thanks for the apology. It's a very 'Lawful Good' move. I appreciate the hustle. But let's save the 90-degree bows for someone who actually cares about the rules, okay? You're blocking the traffic flow."
As he reached his desk, he felt the heat of Bakugo's glare. The explosive blonde was leaning back, his red eyes narrowed into slits.
"You... you're that Quirkless extra who was messing with the robots in Center B. The 'Screwdriver Freak'."
The room went quiet. Twenty pairs of eyes—including a boy with half-white, half-red hair who hadn't looked up until now—landed on Haruto.
Haruto didn't look away. He walked toward his desk, passing Bakugo's seat with a casual, dismissive shrug.
'System Status: Identified,' Haruto thought 'The Alpha Dog feels threatened by the guy with the toolbox. It's adorable, really. Like a chihuahua barking at a tactical nuke.'
He sat down, leaning his chair back on two legs. "Careful, Sparky," Haruto said aloud, "Keep scowling like that and the animators are going to give you permanent forehead wrinkles. It's bad for your marketability."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOU DEKU?!" Bakugo roared, palms beginning to pop with orange sparks.
"If you're here to make friends, you can pack your bags and leave."
A cold, flat voice cut through the tension. On the floor by the doorway, a yellow sleeping bag lay like a giant banana. A man with tangled black hair and eyes that looked like they hadn't seen sleep since the Quirk Era crawled out of it.
"It took you eight seconds to quiet down," Shota Aizawa rasped, standing up and shedding the sleeping bag.
"Time is limited. You kids are not rational enough."
Haruto grinned, a sharp, knowing look.
'Right on cue, the stereotypical shounen sensei makes his appearance.'