[2] Quirks and Cons
Not fragments this time. Not dream-logic confusion. Everything slammed back at once - seventeen years of memories from another life, another time.
2024. South Side. The streets where I grew up dodging gangs and social workers. Foster homes that never stuck. The skills I learned to survive. The people I worked for. The drive that got me killed.
I sat up, sweat soaking through my sheets. My hand reached automatically for a gun that wasn't there. Wouldn't be there. This was 2224, and I was in Japan, and everything I knew about this world came from someone else's memories.
"Fuck," I said in English, then again in Japanese. Both felt natural now. Both felt wrong.
My phone showed 3 AM. Five hours until the quirk assessment. The quirk I apparently had but couldn't remember using. Though now I knew why - the other me, the real Nakamura, had lived this life while I lived mine. Until yesterday, when something went wrong. Or right. Or sideways.
I pulled up the clinic address again. The Hero Public Safety Commission required quirk physicals for any hero school applicant. Standard procedure in 2224. Totally normal in a world where people shot fire from their hands and grew to building size.
"Time travel." I laughed. "Dimensional shift. Body swap. Whatever this is, Marcus would've loved it."
I shook off the memory and grabbed the notebook from my desk. The handwriting matched mine exactly - muscle memory didn't care which century you were from. I flipped through pages of quirk notes, trying to make sense of them.
"Limitless," I muttered. "The hell does that even mean?"
A knock at my door made me jump. "Yoichi?" A woman's voice - my mother. No, Nakamura's mother. "Are you okay? I heard shouting."
"Fine!" I called back. "Just... bad dream."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I stared at the door. How do you tell someone they're not really your mother? That their son got replaced by a dead guy from two centuries ago?
"No, thanks. Going back to sleep."
Footsteps retreated. I let out a breath and went back to the notes. The other me had terrible handwriting when he got excited. Half the pages were barely legible theories about "infinite space" and "barrier generation."
I checked my eyes in the phone's camera. Still wrong. Still beautiful in a way that scared me. The lotus pattern spun lazily, responding to... something. Power? Emotion? The existential crisis of being trapped in another person's life?
Sleep wasn't happening. I spent the next few hours cross-referencing my memories. Things matched up too well to be fake. The other me had lived a completely normal life in this world of heroes. Meanwhile, I'd spent my seventeen years learning how to survive Chicago's underworld. Different skills. Different worlds. Same face.
When sunrise finally came, I knew three things for certain:
I died in 2024
I woke up in 2224 in someone else's life
In four hours, I had to convince a quirk doctor I knew how to use powers I'd never had
"Great." I got dressed, muscle memory picking the right drawers. "No pressure."
The train to Musutafu was crowded. I caught myself checking faces, mapping exits, old habits from a life that ended two centuries ago. A kid with horns. A businessman with blue skin.
My stop came up. The clinic was a modern building with "Quirk Assessment Center" in clean letters above the door. Inside, the waiting room held a mix of teenagers and parents. Other hero course applicants getting their physicals.
I gave my name to the receptionist and sat down. The form she handed me might as well have been in alien language:
"Quirk Type: _______
Primary Manifestation: _______
Secondary Effects: _______
Known Limitations: _______"
A kid next to me was filling out his own form. His quirk let him generate small sonic booms from his hands. Simple. Straightforward. Meanwhile, I stared at my blank form and wondered if "maybe infinite space stuff?" was an acceptable answer.
"Nakamura Yoichi?"
I looked up. A doctor stood in the doorway, tablet in hand. Young guy, early thirties maybe. His quirk made his skin slightly translucent, showing hints of organs beneath.
"That's me." I stood, following him to an exam room.
"I'm Dr. Yamamoto. This is just a standard assessment for your hero course application." He pulled up my file. "Interesting. Your previous assessment was... three years ago?"
I shrugged. "Guess so."
"And your quirk manifested unusually late. Age twelve?" He looked at me over his tablet. "That's rare."
"I'm a rare kind of guy."
He smiled. "Well, let's see what you can do. Your quirk is listed as 'Limitless' - spatial manipulation type. Can you demonstrate the basics?"
I stood there, panic rising. The other me's notes mentioned control exercises, but what the hell did that mean? How do you manipulate space itself?
The lotus pattern in my eyes spun faster.
"Any day now," Dr. Yamamoto said.
I raised my hand, trying to remember the notebook diagrams. Something about barriers? Infinite space between points?
Nothing happened.
"Performance anxiety is normal," he said. "Take your time."
I closed my eyes. Thought about the warehouse. About bullets that should have killed me. About the space between life and death, between then and now, between-
The air crackled.
I opened my eyes. A shimmering barrier hung in the air before me, geometric patterns dancing across its surface. Through it, the room looked distorted, like space itself was being stretched.
"Excellent!" Dr. Yamamoto made notes. "Can you maintain it while I run some tests?"
The barrier felt... natural. Like an extension of myself. I nodded.
He picked up a small rubber ball and tossed it at the barrier. Instead of bouncing off, it... stopped. Hung suspended in the air, caught between spaces.
"Fascinating. The ball isn't frozen in time - it's trapped in an infinite spatial loop." He checked some readings. "Can you demonstrate the offensive applications?"
I lowered the barrier, letting the ball drop. "Offensive?"
"Your file mentions you can channel spatial distortion into strikes."
Great. Combat powers I'd never used. But maybe...
I thought about fighting. About the warehouse. About survival instincts honed over seventeen years in Chicago's shadows. The lotus pattern spun, faster and faster.
Energy coursed through my arm. When I punched the air, space itself seemed to ripple.
"Impressive control," Dr. Yamamoto said. "Though your technique seems different from your last assessment. More... refined?"
I tried to look confident. "Been practicing."
The rest of the exam passed in a blur of tests and questions. The quirk responded instinctively now, like it had been waiting to be used. Barriers. Spatial distortion. Even short-range teleportation that left geometric patterns hanging in the air.
Finally, Dr. Yamamoto set down his tablet. "Well, your quirk has definitely grown stronger since your last assessment. The HPSC will want to note that." He paused. "Though..."
"Though?"
"Your usage patterns are completely different. It's like..." He studied me. "It's like someone else is using your quirk."
My heart stopped.
"But that's impossible, of course." He laughed. "Probably just the result of intense training. I'll update your file for the hero course applications."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
"One last thing." He pulled up a new form. "The HPSC advises on psychological screening for spatial manipulation quirks. They can be... unstable. Would you be willing to schedule a session?"
"I'll think about it." I stood. "Thanks, doc."
Outside, I leaned against the clinic wall, heart pounding. I'd passed. Somehow. But that last comment...
My phone buzzed. A message from "Mom": "How did it go?"
I stared at the screen. At a message from someone else's mother in another century.
I typed back: "Fine. Everything's fine."
The lie felt familiar in any timeline.
I wandered the streets of Musutafu, hands shoved deep in my pockets. The late morning sun beat down on my neck as I passed shops and cafes filled with people living their normal 2224 lives. A guy with octopus tentacles for arms carried groceries. A woman floated her coffee cup to her lips without touching it.
"What the fuck am I doing here?" I muttered in English, drawing a few looks from passersby.
Back in Chicago, I'd known exactly what I was: a survivor. A hustler. Someone who'd clawed his way up from nothing. But here? Hero course applications. Quirk assessments. Playing pretend in someone else's life.
I stopped at a crosswalk, watching the hero agency building across the street. Through the glass walls, I could see people in colorful costumes moving about. Professional heroes. Like pro athletes, but with superpowers and government backing.
"Pro athletes..."
I pulled out my phone and searched "top hero salaries." The numbers made my eyes widen. The lotus pattern spun faster as I scrolled.
"Holy shit," I whispered. The top heroes made more than NFL quarterbacks. Endorsement deals. Merchandise. Agency ownership. And that was just the legal income - I bet there were plenty of opportunities for someone who knew how to work the system.
A hero flew overhead, cape billowing. People on the street pointed and waved. Fans. Customers. Marks.
"It's just like sports," I said to myself. "Gotta be good enough to go pro. Then you're set."
But did I want to be a hero? The thought of running around in spandex saving cats from trees made me want to puke. Then again, I'd done worse things for less money.
I checked my reflection in a store window. The lotus pattern spun lazily, like it was waiting for something. For me to decide.
"Ain't about wanting," I said in English. "About surviving. Making it big."
A memory hit me - Marcus bleeding out in that warehouse. Different life. Different world. Same choice.
"Fuck you, Marcus," I muttered. "I am gonna be something. Just not the way you meant."
My eyes spun faster in the reflection. The geometric patterns seemed to pulse with possibility.
A kid walked past wearing an All Might t-shirt. Symbol of Peace. Number one hero. Probably made nine figures easy.
I grinned. "Now that's what I'm talking about."
The doctor's words came back to me - spatial manipulation quirks could be unstable. Good. Stable was boring. Stable didn't get you to the top.
I pulled up the hero course application on my phone. The deadline was tomorrow. Time to decide - try to live a normal life in this crazy future, or aim for something bigger.
"When in Rome," I said, hitting submit. "Or when in 2224 Japan with superpowers, do whatever the fuck you want."
The confirmation page loaded. No turning back now. I was going to be a hero.
Just not the kind they were expecting.
My phone buzzed - another message from "Mom" asking about dinner. I ignored it and kept walking, plans already forming. I needed to understand this quirk better. Needed to learn how this world really worked, beyond what the other me knew.
Needed to figure out how to turn infinite space into infinite profit.
The lotus pattern spun like a clock counting down to something big. Something new. Something that would make my old Chicago hustles look like kid stuff.
"Game on," I said, and this time I didn't care who heard me talking to myself in English. Let them stare. They'd be seeing a lot more of me soon enough.
After all, what was the point of getting a second chance if you didn't aim higher than before?
I stopped at another intersection, watching the hero agency building disappear behind me. The old me died trying to make it big the wrong way. This time I had powers. Resources. A whole system just waiting to be worked.
All I had to do was play their game. Be what they wanted. Then once I was in...
My eyes spun faster, and I couldn't stop grinning.
"Time to go pro," I said, and headed home to study those quirk notes properly. I had a future to plan.
And this time, nobody was going to stop me from reaching the top.
The universe had given me a second shot, dropped me in a world where having power meant having everything. I wasn't going to waste it playing nice.
Heroes, villains - just different brands in the end. And I'd always been good at selling myself.
Time to see what infinite really meant.
==========
[Next time on "My Hero Academia: Limitless"]
"So this is where I'm supposed to preview the next—" I leaned back in my chair, spinning lazily. "Did you know there's this girl who explodes stuff? Like, constantly? Makes me wonder about property damage costs..."
"Stick to the script!" someone whispered off-camera.
"What script?" I picked up a blank piece of paper. "Oh, you mean this thing about a sludge monster in a bottle? Boring. I'd rather talk about the angry Pomeranian. Now that's entertainment."
"The quirk assessment! Talk about the—"
"Fine, fine." I waved dismissively. "Next time, watch me use these fancy eyes of mine. Maybe blow something up. Who knows?" I smirked at the camera. "Though between you and me, I heard there's this interesting shortcut through an underpass—"
"That's not in the—"
"What? Just saying it might save time getting home. Unless..." I tapped my chin. "Something slimy gets in the way?"
"CUT!"