Testing Limits
Kai stepped into the USJ alongside Nezu, his shoulders tense in anticipation. He fully expected the Villain Attack to begin the moment they crossed the boundary, but the scene remained eerily calm. Relief mixed with confusion as they joined Snipe and Ectoplasm off to the side of Class 1-A, who were watching their students prepare for a simulated rescue drill.
Nezu broke the silence, his tone as chipper as ever. "Gentlemen, we're here to test our exciting new capabilities in assorted environments. Snipe's Walk Fruit, Ectoplasm's Kangaroo Fruit, and my very own Human Fruit are on today's agenda. Oh, and for those unaware, Kai here has graciously gifted me a second Devil Fruit: the Puzzle Fruit."
Snipe tilted his hat back, clearly intrigued. "Two fruits? I thought the limit was one per person."
Kai crossed his arms, his expression souring. "So did I. Apparently, the only thing consistent about my quirk is how inconsistent it is."
"That answers nothing." Snipe replied dryly.
"Then you know how I feel." Kai retorted with a scowl.
"Fair." Snipe relented with a shrug. "So where are we going first? Class 1A is going to go clockwise around the perimeter of the USJ, so their first lesson will be in the Collapse zone. I suggest we go the other way around, so we limit cross-over with em' as much as possible."
"So that blue dome over there first? What's in there?" Kai asked, despite knowing the answer.
"That is the Downpour zone." Ectoplasm said. "Fun fact: the zone's environment can toggle between torrential rainstorms and blizzards. It only takes about thirty minutes to switch modes."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought this place was just for over-the-top hero drills. Seems like a weather lab got crammed in for good measure."
Nezu's eyes twinkled mischievously. "We heroes do love a touch of theatrics, don't we? Let's head over; I'm eager to see how our fruits fare in such conditions."
The group made their way toward the Downpour Zone, the sound of pouring rain intensifying with every step. Kai's gaze lingered on Class 1-A as they walked away. The students huddled around Aizawa, who looked as though life had wrung him out and left him to dry.
"So, quick question," Kai began, breaking the silence. "Why does Eraserhead always look like he's just crawled out of a dumpster? The shabby clothes, the eternal exhaustion, the Gucci-brand eyebags, and, for the love of all that is unholy, that disgusting sleeping bag. He looks like he hasn't seen a bed in years. Why?"
Ectoplasm let out a low chuckle. "Well, between his teaching job and his hero work, Shota doesn't sleep much. The rest of us manage to balance patrols and classes, but he's... special. Thinks twelve-hour patrols and living off jelly pouches is a sustainable lifestyle."
"Jelly pouches?" Kai repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You mean like those snack packs for kids?"
"Well, a meal replacement version, but yeah." Ectoplasm confirmed. "While the rest of us at least try to maintain a work-life balance, Eraserhead insists that relying on assistants or delegating is, and I quote, 'irrational.' So, he takes on everything himself."
Kai shook his head in disbelief. "That's gotta be the most unhinged work ethic I've ever heard of. And I thought Mic had a packed schedule with his patrols, classes, and that national radio show."
"Mic has assistants and interns," Ectoplasm said with a shrug. "Shota doesn't trust anyone else to do things his way, so he just... doesn't sleep. Ever. Frankly, it's a miracle he's still standing."
Kai smirked, glancing back at Aizawa one last time. "Guess that explains the zombie aesthetic. If he starts mumbling about brains, let me know."
Nezu chuckled softly, his small figure bouncing with each step. "Shota's quirks may lie in his work ethic, but his students adore him. That dedication is what makes him such an effective hero and teacher, even if it means sacrificing his own well-being."
Kai rolled his eyes. "Sounds noble, but it still feels like the world's worst life hack."
The rain's steady drumming became a roar as they reached the door to the Downpour Zone. Nezu paused, turning to face his entourage before smoothly shifting into his human form. His small frame was now that of a well-dressed man, though his unmistakable sharp grin remained.
"Alright!" Nezu clapped his hands together, his enthusiasm cutting through the damp atmosphere. "Today's focus is on mastering and adapting to our Devil Fruits in dynamic environments. Ectoplasm, your task will be to refine your agility in Hybrid form by maintaining footing on slippery surfaces at high speeds. You'll also practice transitioning between Hybrid and full Kangaroo form to determine the most situationally advantageous mode."
Ectoplasm gave a crisp nod. "Understood."
"Snipe," Nezu continued, turning to the gunslinger, "you'll be navigating urban terrain while targeting Ectoplasm's clones. The objective: neutralize them without being detected. This will challenge both your precision and stealth."
Snipe tipped his hat with a confident smirk. "Got it. I'll make it quick."
Finally, Nezu turned his sharp gaze to Kai. "As for you, Kai, your challenge will be scavenging through the simulated cityscape to create inventions on the fly—useful tools or devices that could turn the tide in an emergency. Ectoplasm will assign a clone to supervise you and ensure your safety. Oh, and we won't be testing your electricity generation here for... obvious reasons." He gestured to the storm clouds swirling above them.
Kai crossed his arms, looking up at the artificial downpour with a sigh. "Yeah, I'd rather not fry myself or anyone else. So, basically, I'm MacGyvering my way through a wet scrapyard?"
"Precisely!" Nezu said with a beaming smile. "Consider it a creative exercise."
Kai shrugged. "Fine by me. I'll see what I can cobble together."
"Excellent!" Nezu said, his human form practically radiating excitement. "Let's get started. Remember, this is about pushing boundaries and discovering the full range of your abilities. Adaptability is key!"
With that, Nezu opened the door, and the team stepped into the Downpour Zone, the rain cascading down like a curtain and the simulated city looming ahead in the haze.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So where is the attempted murder? Kai thought. I'm certain the USJ attack is going to happen, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten a quest, so where are they? Whatever. All I can do right now is follow instructions. It's just unfortunate I'm being watched.
As Kai meandered through the hyper-realistic cityscape, he couldn't help but marvel at the sheer scale and detail of the Downpour Zone. The rain was relentless, drenching him as he wandered along a slick side street. Every detail screamed authenticity, from the uneven cracks in the pavement to the flickering neon signs overhead.
He glanced through the windows of fully furnished stores lining the street. The first was a quaint coffee shop with tiny tables and a chalkboard menu listing drink specials that nobody would ever order. Next was a pet salon, complete with drying stations, leashes on racks, and colorful toys scattered across shelves.
"Really going for realism here," Kai muttered to himself, brushing wet hair out of his face.
Further down, he paused at a music store. The window was plastered with posters of old pre-Quirk rock bands, their names barely legible under the layers of imagined time and grime. A cracked guitar leaned against the display, strings rusted and broken.
"Is that a Led Zeppelin poster?" he mused aloud. "Or maybe just some knockoff? Either way, UA really didn't skimp on the nostalgia factor."
The longer he walked, the more surreal it felt. This wasn't just a training ground—it was a love letter to a world long past. Every storefront seemed to tell a story, creating an odd sense of life in a place meant for simulations.
Kai ducked into an alley to escape the pounding rain, spotting a pile of discarded junk. A rusted toolbox, scraps of metal, and what looked like the remains of a broken vacuum cleaner sat under a dripping awning.
"Well," he muttered, crouching to inspect the pile, "time to make something out of nothing."
Kai knelt, eyeing the pile of junk scattered across the alleyway. His mind was already buzzing with possibilities, but if he was going to make anything useful, he needed the right tools. He had come into the USJ with nothing but his bare hands and a dream—and that wasn't going to cut it for a challenge this big.
Without hesitation, he pulled out the earbuds he'd made with the Tinker Tinker Fruit the other day, plugged them into his ears, and loaded up his playlist. The familiar beats of rock music instantly helped him focus, drowning out the rain and the faint murmur of his surroundings.
"Alright, let's get this started," he muttered to himself, his fingers moving deftly as he began sorting through the junk.
Kai wasted no time getting to work. The first thing he did was break down the vacuum cleaner for its motor. Despite the alley being waterlogged, the motor was still operable, much to Kai's delight. His fingers hummed with the energy of the Tinker Fruit as he activated its 'zone.' The motor fit neatly inside it, and in mere seconds, he had disassembled it, gathering the gears and wiring into a metal casing to keep them dry.
The next step was shaping a handle for the tool. He grabbed a thin metal pipe from the vacuum's frame and willed it to bend into shape with his Tinker Fruit—but quickly realized that the pipe didn't cooperate.
"Damn it," Kai muttered. "Is it a problem of size or effort? Is it because the whole thing doesn't fit? We'll test it later."
With a huff, he tossed the idea of using his Tinker Fruit for this and went the old-fashioned route. He grabbed a small scrap of metal lying nearby and bent the pipe around it until he had fashioned a sturdy handle that would serve his purpose.
Next, Kai tackled the drill function. Using small screws and scrap metal, he combined them with the vacuum motor's spinning blades. After a few moments of rapid tinkering, he had created a crude, yet functional, hand drill. It wasn't a polished, industrial-grade tool, but it was more than enough to handle basic tasks.
The final piece of the puzzle was the saw. He bent one of the vacuum cleaner's metal blades into shape and cut into it with a sharp piece of metal until it had teeth, creating a makeshift saw that could slice through wood and plastic. It wasn't pretty, but it would do the job.
In just under an hour, Kai had his first makeshift tool kit—a lightweight, modular setup that could serve as a power drill, mini saw, and even a rudimentary screwdriver. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Kai paused to admire his work, fingers still tingling with the energy that surged through him. "Not bad for a first run."
This wasn't just about building a single tool, though. He was testing his limits, pushing the boundaries of what his Tinker Fruit could do. With each tool he created, his abilities would grow stronger, and his potential would expand. If he kept at it, he might just turn this rainy, junk-filled city into the ultimate workshop.
He sighed, stretching his arms. "Time to find some more scrap."
With that, he pocketed the tool kit and set off in search of more materials, eager to see what else he could build.
The Ectoplasm clone just followed him to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Snipe crouched low on the rooftop, his eyes locked on the streets below. The city was his jungle. He could hear the wind howl, feel the pulse of the city beneath him, but he was always one step ahead. The Walk Walk Fruit gave him the edge he needed tonight.
The first clone appeared—just another target. Snipe's lips curled into a sneer. No time for mercy. He activated his quirk, moving with deadly precision. His boots slapped the wall, and in an instant, he was above the clone's blind spot.
Bang.
The clone dropped. One down. No remorse. Snipe's mind was a machine, calculating angles, finding weakness. This wasn't about the test. It was about survival. If you hesitated, you were already dead.
Another clone, another chance to kill. Snipe pushed off the wall, cutting through the air, his gun already raised. The clone dashed across a rooftop, thinking it had the upper hand. It was wrong.
Bang. Bang.
Two down. His heart didn't race; it just… thudded. Focused. He didn't feel excitement or adrenaline. He just felt the burn of purpose, the need to finish what he started.
The next target was hiding behind glass. Snipe didn't hesitate. The bullet shattered the window, the clone collapsing in a puff of smoke.
Three down.
His mind raced to the next target, moving like a shadow across the city. No mercy. No mistakes. Just the hunt.
He was the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An Ectoplasm clone watched from the shadows, unimpressed, as Snipe prowled the rooftops. He was trying way too hard.
Every move was a dramatic flourish. Step. Pause. Jump. Pose. Shoot. It was like he was auditioning for some low-budget action flick, all brooding intensity and faux-macho nonsense. The Walk Walk Fruit made him move like some kind of rooftop acrobat, but instead of looking cool, it just made him look like a try-hard with a costume.
Look at him. The clone thought, cringing. The way Snipe stared off into the distance after each shot, hand resting on his gun like he was about to say something deep—but then... silence. Not a damn word. The guy probably thought he was some kind of anti-hero.
The clone shook his head. If he says "mission accomplished" one more time... He could almost hear it. Or worse—Snipe would make some "gritty" remark about the city or the hunt, something that sounded like it came straight out of a teenager's self-written manga.
Dude, we're just clones. Relax.
Another shot rang out, and the clone fell. He didn't even get the satisfaction of making it a fight. Snipe had him pegged the second he moved.
Chunni. God, this guy's exhausting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nezu sat comfortably at his desk, a series of monitors displaying live feeds from the Downpour Zone, the flickering images showing Snipe, Ectoplasm, and Kai at work. His hands rested on the desk, fingernails lightly tapping the surface as he observed the training session unfold. The cameras zoomed in on Snipe, whose exaggerated movements made Nezu chuckle under his breath.
Ah, Snipe. You do love the theatrics, don't you?
Nezu's sharp eyes shifted, watching the marksman leap from one building to another with all the flair of a third-rate action movie protagonist. I suppose everyone needs their little... moment of grandeur, he mused.
While his staff carried out their tests, Nezu focused his attention on his own. With a flick of his wrist, he activated his Puzzle Fruit, shifting the pieces of his desk around with ease. A mug here, a coaster there—he casually transplanted a sticker from one cup to another, his hands moving in swift, fluid motions.
It was almost like a game to him—seeing how far he could push his fruit's capabilities. He was no amateur when it came to power, but the more he practiced this new ability, the more he understood about the possibilities.
The mugs and objects on his desk shifted effortlessly, the decals swapping and shifting in a kind of dance, as if rearranging the world itself. It was a calming exercise, and it was keeping his mind sharp as he observed the others.
The cameras flickered. Snipe missed another clone, and Nezu smiled. the more things change, the more they stay the same. He hummed in satisfaction, thinking back on the days he taught Snipe as his homeroom teacher.