Nomura Okutami was on the news again. Kyudai paused the footage just as the young man turned toward the cameras. The image was blurred: a pale face, disheveled hair, a transplanted arm, and the unnervingly calm gaze of someone who had been bleeding out on the edge of a pier only a short while ago.
Nomura had survived. Nomu-Tiger had not.
The doctor magnified the image of the arm. The skin retained its violet-black color, but the body was not rejecting the tissue. The blood vessels had already joined. The nerves responded to every movement of the fingers.
— Impossible, — Kyudai muttered.
Nomura should never have been at the port in the first place. Kyudai had intended to capture the young man alive along with BodySwap. The Quirk was not meant for another Nomu. Once a suitable vessel was ready, the doctor planned to force Nomura to transfer his consciousness into a younger, more perfect body. Nomu-Tiger's only task had been to track the target, suppress any resistance, and deliver him to the laboratory.
That man had ruined everything. His intervention had forced Kyudai to teleport Nomu-Tiger to the port in an emergency. Left without direct control in the middle of the chaos, the starving specimen began its hunt too soon and turned a covert capture operation into a public massacre.
Now Nomu-Tiger was dead, BodySwap remained with Nomura, and the same spoiled heir stood before the cameras—except now he was composed, quiet, and frighteningly self-assured. Kyudai did not know that almost nothing of Nomura remained inside that body. He could see only the result, and he tried to explain it away as luck.
Nomu-Tiger had been exhausted, had lost too much blood, and had allowed himself to be driven into the water. Nomura copied the mutation at exactly the right moment and took advantage of someone else's stupidity. The explanation sounded reasonable, so Kyudai repeated it to himself twice more. The speaker behind him came to life.
— An intriguing experiment.
The doctor flinched and nearly dropped the remote. Sensei's voice was calm. That only made it worse.
— I intended to report once I had the final data.
— You released a Nomu into the port without warning me.
— The route was calculated. No traces remain. No one has connected the creature to the hospital or the laboratory.
— This time.
Kyudai drew his head down between his shoulders.
— Nomura won only because the specimen lost control. The boy exhausted it and then used Copy. There was nothing fundamentally new about it.
The speaker remained silent for several seconds.
— Do you believe that explanation yourself?
Kyudai looked at the frozen image. No, he did not. He had no intention of admitting it.
— His Quirk warrants further study, — AFO continued. — Particularly its ability to copy mutations. At the UA Sports Festival, he will either reveal himself or confirm that he prefers to remain hidden.
— He is enrolled in the Management Course. He may not participate.
— Then we will give him a reason to stop hiding.
A diagram of Sector D occupied the neighboring screen. Kyudai understood before Sensei finished speaking.
— Release the lower specimens after the festival.
— All of them?
— As many as necessary. Individually, they are useless. A swarm will force Nomura to expose his Quirk's limits: how many abilities he can hold at once, how long the copies persist, and what happens when several different Quirk factors are presented to him simultaneously.
— You want to kill him?
— If I wanted him dead, I would not waste time observing him. First, I will learn Copy's limitations. Then I will take it.
There was neither doubt nor greed in Sensei's voice. He spoke of another person's Quirk as an object whose rightful owner had already been decided.
— Adding an unstudied ability to my arsenal would be dangerous, — AFO continued. — Especially if it can truly reproduce mutations. Nomura will conduct the trial for us. Quantity will provide the answer.
Kyudai wanted to object—not out of pity for the Nomu, and certainly not out of concern for human lives. Releasing an entire sector carried risks. One mistake, one captured specimen, one trace left by the teleportation, and the heroes would begin searching for the source. But the order had come from the one man Kyudai had never learned to refuse.
— Of course, Sensei.
The connection ended. Kyudai remained before the darkened speaker for some time, feeling like a pathetic worm. He could create creatures capable of breaking cities, extend life, and transplant Quirks. Yet the moment Sensei spoke, all that grandeur collapsed into an old man nodding hurriedly at an empty wall.
In Sensei's presence, the boy remained Nomura. Kyudai had no intention of explaining his private classification of the specimens. When he was alone, the doctor used another name. The Third, at least, had resisted. Perhaps that was why he was so irritating.
The doctor opened Sector D's inventory. In practical terms, the order solved a problem. The lower Nomu devoured supplies, tore fixtures from the walls, and injured themselves in their hunger. Sending them on a disposable operation would be cheaper than continuing to feed them. Let Sensei consider them cannon fodder. Kyudai would turn the attack into an experiment.
Each specimen would receive a tracker. Sensors would record temperature, Quirk activation frequency, and the Third's response to multiple threats. Kyudai would alter the orders of several Nomu: instead of tearing the young man apart, they were to restrain him and bring him back alive. If Copy had truly developed into something greater, a corpse would be useless.
Kyudai scrolled through Sector D's list without even opening the Quirk tabs. Most of the lower Nomu had no Quirks at all. The few surviving factors were garbage: weak skin reinforcement, acidic saliva, night vision, and other abilities Sensei had once deemed unworthy of his arsenal. Kyudai had long since stopped considering them individually. To him, the entire sector was a heap of meat that had to be fed and stored somewhere.
One unopened file still contained a support Quirk with the working title *Union*. It linked two Quirk factors and allowed their users to access part of each other's abilities. In a solitary, mindless Nomu, it had proven nearly useless. The bond required a second bearer, compatibility, and sustained intent.
Neither AFO nor Kyudai remembered why Union had ended up in that mess. Now its bearer would be sent into battle with the rest of the meat. The doctor had no idea that, out of the entire worthless horde, Union would one day become more valuable to TNO than a dozen combat Quirks.
Once he had finished with the list, Kyudai returned to his new-body project. Three genetic samples still lay before him. Rumi Usagiyama promised speed, reflexes, and an organism adapted to constant physical strain. Ryukyu promised monstrous mass, armor, and the power of Dragon. Both options, however, demanded too much: complete source material, calculations for a complex mutation, and a body that would not draw attention by resembling an active heroine.
Toya Todoroki's sample was simpler. Kyudai had possessed his blood since the boy's time at the orphanage. His flames offered destructive power far beyond his body's ability to withstand them. That flaw could be corrected later by adding heat resistance, strengthening regeneration, or replacing the most vulnerable tissues. The first priority was obtaining a foundation. Kyudai moved Toya's data into the project's primary slot.
*Selected material: Toya Todoroki.* Not a blend of three donors, but one person restored from a preserved sample. A new vessel for Kyudai's mind.
— Brave boy, — the doctor whispered, looking again at the frozen image of the Third. — Let us see how much of that courage remains when all my garbage comes running at you.
AFO's order required the Third to be tested. Kyudai's own plan required a new body. For now, the two goals did not conflict.
The doctor descended into Sector S late that night. Mocha sat within a ring of equipment. Wires connected her small body to terminals displaying a rotating digital model of Toya Todoroki: bones, organs, blood vessels, and the reconstructed sequence of his Quirk factor. Kyudai placed a hand on the main console.
— Create him.
Mocha looked at the empty capsule, then at the doctor, and backed away.
— You heard the order.
The Nomu gave a quiet whimper and shook her head.
Double could not copy people or objects at all. Its only known function was duplicating Quirks. Kyudai knew this, yet he hoped a Quirk factor preserved a deep enough imprint of its bearer for the blood and digital model to force Double beyond its natural function. If mutation-type Quirks could rebuild an entire human body, why could a copying Quirk not one day reconstruct a body around the factor it duplicated? It was not a proven theory, only an old man's desperate attempt to command a Quirk to do something it had never been meant to do.
— You have his genetic material! — Kyudai roared. — Every cell contains the instructions!
Mocha refused again. Everything that had accumulated over the past few days broke loose at once: Nomu-Tiger's death, the survival of the Third, AFO's displeasure, and Kyudai's own old age, which even Longevity could only stretch out, never erase.
Kyudai tore a clamp from the terminal and struck Mocha. Her small body flew to the edge of the platform. Johnny hid behind the equipment in fright.
— Useless creature! I gave you that power!
The second blow landed across her back. Mocha covered herself with her paws, her entire body trembling.
Double activated in panic, but not in the way Kyudai expected. Deep inside Mocha's Quirk, the incomplete command caught hold of the only part of the template it could recognize—not Toya's body, not his mind or identity, but only his fire factor.
The duplicated Quirk separated from the genetic blueprint and remained inside Mocha, hidden beside Double. It showed no outward sign. No person appeared, no colorless outline formed, not even a spark of blue flame. Mocha did not understand what had happened. Kyudai understood even less.
The doctor stood breathing heavily as he stared at the empty platform. To him, the attempt had ended in complete failure. Mocha could not reconstruct a human being from a genetic blueprint. Double remained an ability capable of duplicating Quirks and nothing else. The new-body project would have to be closed—not forever, merely for now.
Kyudai adjusted his glasses and looked at his aged hands. Longevity was still working. He still had time. Perhaps several more decades—enough to find another method without humiliating himself before a creature incapable of understanding his vision.
— I will manage without you.
Mocha did not answer. Kyudai shut down the equipment and left the sector. His thoughts had already shifted to the Third, the festival, and the preparations for Sector D. The new-body project was consigned to the archives. The old man still had time.
Hitoshi Shinso regarded his own life with the confidence of someone who had already seen it from the outside. The people around him were only beginning to make plans, choose careers, and wonder what the next year would bring. He almost always knew the answer in advance.
Hitoshi recognized some of his classmates before ever meeting them. The names of heroes brought entire scenes to mind rather than newspaper articles. Even UA felt familiar long before he first saw the academy with his own eyes. This knowledge was not foresight or some hidden function of Brainwashing.
Once, Hitoshi had lived in another world, one without Quirks, heroes, or All Might. He had been American there, and *My Hero Academia* had existed only as a manga and anime. After his death, he opened his eyes in the body of a Japanese child named Hitoshi Shinso, his memories of his former life intact. In other words, he was a reincarnator who had found himself inside a story he already knew.
Years in his new body taught him the language, the bows, and the necessary rules of courtesy, but they did not erase his former habits. Hitoshi preferred direct pressure, personal competition, and the ability to announce his worth loudly. He often mistook Japanese restraint for indecision, a gentle rejection for an invitation to try again, and a desire not to stand out for the voluntary surrender of an advantage. His classmates saw concealed arrogance. Hitoshi believed he simply understood the value of initiative better than they did.
He realized where he had been sent long before applying to UA. The names All Might, Endeavor, and UA left no room for doubt. At first, his new body seemed like a poor choice. He was not Izuku, Todoroki, or even Bakugo—only a future General Studies student whom canon would leave on the sidelines for far too long. Then Brainwashing manifested, and his disappointment vanished. All he had to do was make someone answer, and their mind fell under his control. Canon's Shinso regarded the ability as a burden and dreamed of proving it suitable for a hero. The reincarnator saw a key capable of opening almost any door.
He considered the General Studies Course a dumping ground for those too weak to join the heroes. That did not stop thousands of teenagers from fighting to enter UA through even its least prestigious programs. The academy's name on their uniform and the hope of transferring upward were enough for them. Hitoshi used the same door, though he saw it only as a side entrance into a story he already knew.
He passed the written examination, but a good result alone was not enough. The competition was too fierce, and he fell several points short of the cutoff. During his appeal, one member of the admissions committee carelessly answered a question Hitoshi asked. Brainwashing activated instantly. One brief command to reconsider a disputed answer and add the missing points was enough for his name to appear on the admissions list by evening. At the last moment, his Quirk—not his intellect—decided the outcome.
By the beginning of the school year, Hitoshi had little reason to doubt his good fortune. He knew the Sports Festival would attract Aizawa's attention, and he knew how to transfer into the Hero Course. More importantly, he remembered the coming war, Tomura Shigaraki's rise, AFO's return, and the secret of *One For All* hidden inside Izuku Midoriya. He recognized most of the students before they had the chance to introduce themselves.
That was why Hitoshi noticed the stranger in a UA hallway immediately. Class 1-A was returning from a lesson: Iida and Bakugo argued at the front, while Uraraka, Midoriya, Tsuyu, and the other faces from his former world followed behind them. Hitoshi automatically counted twenty students, but Mineta was nowhere among them. His place had been taken by a dark-haired boy with a wary gaze.
"Who the hell is that? There was no one like him in MHA."
Later, Hitoshi found the full name in the student records.
Taiko Garaki.
His attention caught on the surname. If Hitoshi remembered correctly, it had belonged to the mad scientist who created Nomu for AFO. The story usually called him Doctor Ujiko, but his real name took a moment to surface in Hitoshi's memory: Kyudai Garaki.
Hitoshi searched the internet. He found several scientific papers published nearly fifty years earlier, covering Quirk factors, the inheritance of mutations, and their accelerating development from one generation to the next. One publication still included a photograph of its author. The same round glasses, bald head, and thick mustache—only on a face that had not yet grown quite so old.
It could still be a coincidence. The surname was not unique, and old research papers proved nothing by themselves. But Taiko was already too great an anomaly for Hitoshi to ignore details like these. He saved the papers and photograph in a separate folder. Garaki's son, a clone, a laboratory specimen—any theory remained possible for now. It was then that Hitoshi first understood that his knowledge of canon was no longer absolute.
He had no intention of surrendering its advantages, however. Hitoshi knew what the people he wanted to grow close to would eventually become—especially the girls. He did not intend to reduce them to mindless dolls, or at least that was how he justified his first experiments. A small command during a conversation: sit beside him, give him a phone number, stop being angry. Nothing terrible. No violence. Only a brief push in the right direction, after which the relationship could continue to develop naturally. He called it correcting a poor start, not manipulation.
Besides, he already knew many of the girls. He knew what Momo feared, understood Tsuyu's loneliness, and remembered Uraraka's desire to earn money as a hero and provide for her parents. He knew how each of them would develop better than they could possibly know themselves. Was a man with that knowledge not a better match for them than some random teenager?
Taiko shattered that comfortable picture simply by existing, and Hitoshi began watching him. The stranger did not behave like an extra who had merely occupied an empty desk. He interfered in events, made choices that had never occurred in the original, and watched the people around him as though he also knew far more than he should. Hitoshi learned quite a bit about him—even about the beautiful girl named Kuinn whom Taiko called his. Hitoshi had already reserved her a place in his future harem and intended to ask for her number when the opportunity arose. The existence of a boyfriend had never struck him as an insurmountable obstacle.
Another reincarnator? Authorial interference? A flaw in the world? Hitoshi disliked every possibility. A man who believed himself the sole owner of the script had no desire to share it with anyone else.
There were still two weeks left before the Sports Festival. Taiko had not disappeared. On the contrary, he had already stumbled into yet another incident involving a group of criminals, and rumors spread throughout UA afterward. No one could say with certainty what had actually happened. In one version, Taiko had helped the heroes. In another, he had nearly ruined an arrest. In a third, he had escaped a trap no ordinary first-year should ever have entered. Every retelling added new details, and Taiko's name gradually acquired its first campus legend.
Around the same time, Nomura Okutami appeared on the news exactly once. Hitoshi initially assigned no narrative importance to the wealthy heir, although the young man's appearance was anything but that of an extra. His features were too refined, his grooming too immaculate, and his calm ease before the camera made him look more like a young idol who had wandered into a news broadcast. Yet the world was not limited to characters the author had chosen to include in the manga or anime. Millions of people lived beyond the frame, and Nomura could easily be one of them. The report said nothing about his Quirk.
Hitoshi was about to close the video when he noticed the resemblance. Nomura was not Taiko's double, but the line of his cheekbones, the shape of his eyes, and certain movements felt suspiciously familiar. The wealthy young man looked older and carried himself differently, yet in a few frames they could easily have passed for relatives.
That was enough for Hitoshi to open his notes. Taiko's name already stood beneath the heading *ANOMALIES. Below it, he added Nomura Okutami and a brief note: physical resemblance; possible relation*.
Taiko remained a genuine violation of canon. Nomura, for now, appeared to be an unremarkable wealthy extra whom Hitoshi had probably seen on-screen for the first and last time. Only one fact connected them: neither young man had existed in the version of the story Hitoshi knew.
Hitoshi knew the canonical sequence of events at the Sports Festival and had prepared to use it against the Hero Course. The plan remained unchanged: make the students answer him, place enough powerful contestants under his control, and show Aizawa that Brainwashing deserved a place among heroes.
Taiko remained the greatest unknown in his calculations. Hitoshi intended to test him at the festival while showing the Hero Course how badly it had underestimated a General Studies student. The girls from Classes 1-A and 1-B would finally notice him as well.
Hitoshi never called the future group a harem out loud. In the real world, the word sounded too pathetic. But if he had been given knowledge of the plot, one of the finest control Quirks, and the ability to understand every heroine before she understood herself, why should he limit himself to one?
He considered it the protagonist's privilege. Taiko was the only genuine obstacle: not only did he break the familiar story, but he also occupied the place beside a girl Hitoshi already regarded as part of his future harem. He left Nomura on the anomaly list only as a precaution and shut off the screen.
While everyone else saw a gloomy student with a "villainous" Quirk, the reincarnator prepared to force the story back onto its familiar path. He had yet to understand the most important thing: the story had not gone off-script. It simply no longer belonged to him.