The smell of a pediatrician's office was a universal constant that transcended time, space, and even the inconvenient phenomenon of reincarnation.
It was a suffocating cocktail of cheap floor wax, diluted antiseptic, and the faint, lingering scent of a toddler's recent "accident."
For Kaito Arisaka, a boy whose mental age was currently several decades ahead of his six-year-old skeletal structure, the smell was the scent of impending doom.
He sat on the crinkly wax paper of the examination table, his short legs dangling and kicking rhythmically against the metal base. Thump. Thump. Thump. Each beat felt like a countdown to the moment his life would either become a shonen legend or a mundane tragedy.
In his past life on Earth, Kaito had been a man of unremarkable talents. He had died in a way that wasn't particularly heroic, tripping over a loose charging cable and hitting his head on a coffee table only to wake up as a crying infant in a world that looked suspiciously like the backdrop of the My Hero Academia universe.
At first, he had been ecstatic. He knew this world. He knew the names of the heroes yet to be born and the villains yet to crawl out of the shadows. He had spent his toddler years in a state of high-octane anticipation, waiting for the inevitable DING! of a System notification or the sudden surge of a Quirk that would allow him to reshape reality.
"Alright, Kaito-kun," Dr. Tanaka said, peering over his spectacles. The doctor had the kind of professional boredom that only comes from decades of looking at runny noses in the "Testicle Era" that weird, pre-canon gap where the world was still even figuring out how to handle the sudden explosion of superpowers. "Let's have a look at those feet."
Kaito's heart hammered against his ribs. This was the moment of truth. In this world, the presence or absence of a second joint in the pinky toe was the ultimate biological gatekeeper.
One joint meant you were a god among men, an evolved human with a Quirk. Two joints meant you were destined for a 9-to-5 job and a mid-sized sedan.
Grandma Saki leaned forward, her weathered hands resting on her knees. Her knuckles were swollen from years of hauling heavy boxes at the Arisaka Hardware Shop, but her eyes were sharp.
"Is it good news, Doctor? The boy has been posing in front of the mirror for weeks. He thinks he's going to be a hero. He even tried to stare down the neighbor's cat yesterday."
Kaito flushed a deep crimson, his ears burning. "It was... a psychological test, Grandma!"
Dr. Tanaka hummed, a sound that carried the weight of a jury's verdict. He picked up Kaito's small foot with the clinical detachment of a jeweler inspecting a low-grade pebble. He manipulated the pinky toe, pressing and prodding.
Kaito held his breath. He was internally screaming for a System, a glitch, a miracle.
'Give me a 'Quest'! Give me a 'Cheat Code'! Just let a holographic screen pop up!'
"Well," Dr. Tanaka said, letting the foot drop. He turned to his clipboard, scratching out a note. "The X-rays and the physical check confirm it. Kaito-kun only has a single joint in his pinky toe."
The world seemed to tilt. A surge of pure, unadulterated adrenaline shot through Kaito's tiny frame. 'One joint. The 'Hero Toe.' I'm not an NPC! I'm a protagonist!'
"Wait," Saki said, her brow furrowing. "So he has a Quirk? But... he's six. He hasn't done anything. No fire, no floating, no super-strength. He just eats a lot of rice and complains about the heat."
"He definitely has the Quirk factor," Dr. Tanaka confirmed, sounding remarkably unimpressed. "Biologically speaking, he is an evolved human. He has the hardware for a power."
Kaito's grin was so wide it hurt. He was already imagining the capes, the fan clubs, the easy life of a top-tier hero. But then, the doctor's tone shifted into something far more somber.
"However," Tanaka continued, "as for the manifestation... it's a dud. At least for now. We see this sometimes. A dormant factor. It's like having a high-end computer with no operating system installed. He's got the biological potential, but the software is missing. He's technically a Quirk-user, but functionally, he's as powerless as a civilian."
Kaito stared at his feet. They looked like... feet. But the doctor's words were a double-edged sword that cut deep into his soul. He had the "Hero Toe," but he was effectively a "Dud." He was a protagonist who couldn't find the 'Start' button.
"A dud?" Kaito whispered, his voice cracking.
"Don't think of it that way, kid," the doctor said, patting him on the shoulder with a hand that felt way too heavy. "Think of it as being... exceptionally normal with a hidden potential. Maybe it'll wake up when you're fifty. Or maybe never. My advice? Focus on your studies. The world needs accountants more than it needs heroes who can't turn on their powers."
As they walked out of the clinic, the afternoon sun hit the pavement with a mocking brightness.
Grandma Saki patted his head, her hand rough and comforting. "There now, Kaito. One joint or two, you're still the boy who helps me sort the screws on Tuesdays. A hardware shop is a serious business. You don't need a Quirk to use a hammer."
Kaito didn't answer. He was spiraling. He was a reincarnator! He knew the plot! He knew that in a few years, All Might would be the Symbol of Peace! He knew about the looming shadows! But he was stuck as a "Dud" in a hardware shop.
"In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king," Kaito muttered, quoting a proverb from his past life to soothe his bruised ego. "But what is the man with two eyes in a world where everyone has laser beams?"
"What was that, dear?" Saki asked.
"Nothing, Grandma. Just... thinking about the inventory."
The next few months were a masterclass in delusional effort. If the "Software" was missing, Kaito decided he would code it himself. He spent his afternoons in the small backyard of the Arisaka Hardware Shop, tucked away behind stacks of rusting pipes and crates of mismatched screws.
He tried everything he remembered from the anime and manga of his previous life. He spent three hours in a "horse stance" until his legs shook so violently he collapsed into a pile of wood shavings.
He tried the "Saitama Method," but after twelve push-ups, his six-year-old arms turned into jelly and his face hit the dirt with a wet thud.
"System?" he whispered, his face pressed against the cool earth, smelling the scent of rust and damp soil.
"Status? Menu? Quest? If you're there, give me a sign. Give me a 1-point strength boost. I'll even take a 'Cleaning' skill!"
The only response was the distant clinking of metal from the shop and the mocking chirp of a cicada. There was no blue screen. No feminine A.I. voice telling him he was the "Chosen One."
There was just a six-year-old boy in dirt-stained shorts, sweating in the humidity of a Japanese summer.
He tried to "meditate" to find his inner energy, sitting cross-legged on the dusty floor of the lumber section. He closed his eyes, visualizing a ball of light in his chest, trying to force it to expand until it burst through his skin.
"Kaito?" Grandma Saki called out from the front of the shop. "Are you back there? I need someone to help Mrs. Sato carry her bags of cement! She's trying to fix her garden wall again!"
Kaito snapped his eyes open, his face red from the effort of trying to spontaneously manifest a power. "Coming, Grandma!"
He ran to the front, his small hands grabbing the heavy bags with a grimace. He was a "Dud." A Hero-Toe bearer who was relegated to manual labor.
He helped Mrs. Sato, an elderly woman whose Quirk apparently just made her hair slightly more blue than average.
"Such a helpful boy," Mrs. Sato cooed, patting his cheek. "You're a real little hero, Kaito-kun. Most kids your age are out playing with their toys, but you're here helping your grandmother. You've got a good heart."
Kaito gave her a practiced, weary smile. 'If only you knew, Mrs. Sato. I'm a man in a six-year-old's body, currently being defeated by a 10kg bag of Portland cement because my 'protagonist' package didn't arrive in the mail.'
At night, he would lie in his futon, staring at the ceiling. The frustration was a physical weight. He knew the future was coming.
He knew the "Testicle Era" would end, and the real chaos would begin. He wanted to be ready. He wanted to be the one who stood in the gap.
But as the weeks turned into months, the "DING" never came. The blue screen never appeared. His hands never glowed. He was just Kaito Arisaka, the kid who was really good at organizing galvanized nails.
"Reality is a harsh mistress," he sighed, staring at his single-jointed pinky toe.
He didn't realize that every time he helped Mrs. Sato, every time he organized the shop for Saki, and every time he gave a tired neighbor a cup of water, he was doing something far more important than "leveling up."
He was building a foundation of trust. He was becoming the most reliable person in a three-block radius.
He was waiting for a "Cheat," not realizing that in this world, the greatest cheat wasn't a system, it was the belief of the people around him.
But he didn't know about it, he didn't even know when will his quirk will emerge. He just thought he was a failure.
For now, he was just a boy with a "Hero Toe" and a very heavy hammer, facing the cold, hard reality that he might just be a background character after all.
He was Kaito, the hardware store boy, and as far as he was concerned, his shonen dream was dead on arrival.