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If someone asked him, hypothetically speaking, what he thought might happen if his head ever had a three way love affair between a spinning truck tire and hot asphalt, his answer would've probably began and ended at "Die messily."

Waking up in another country halfway across the planet two centuries and a month after the fact probably wouldn't have made it on the list even if he thought it over for more than half a second. If anything he would've just assumed he'd end up in the same place his brother went.

God, what would his brother have even said if he found out he got himself killed from pure clumsiness not even a month after he passed? Probably just laugh at him and pat himself on the back for keeping him alive this long...

Or, a teen with no legal name wakes up from a coma on a random morning in late September. The nurses tell him he is a victim of human trafficking. That would explain why he's in Japan, but not why his last memory is getting his head crushed between a truck tire and hot asphalt on the hottest day in August two hundred years ago.

Or why he suddenly has super powers. Plural. Apparently that's not normal. As if anything else was.
Eternal summer New

CosmicBigfoot

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If someone asked him, hypothetically speaking, what he thought might happen if his head ever had a three way love affair between a spinning truck tire and hot asphalt, his answer would've probably began and ended at "Die messily."

Waking up in another country halfway across the planet two centuries and a month after the fact probably wouldn't have made it on the list even if he thought it over for more than half a second. If anything he would've just assumed he'd end up in the same place his brother went.

God, what would his brother have even said if he found out he got himself killed from pure clumsiness not even a month after he passed? Probably just laugh at him and pat himself on the back for keeping him alive this long.

You'd think the worst thing about having your head roleplay as a watermelon in a Gallagher skit would be that entire sentence, but it turns out the actual worst thing about dying horribly was the color palette swap.

What's that? You think having your head violently explode sounds a bit worse? Yeah, well you try going from "warm Autumn" to "Prozac commercial" in color palette and see if that opinion sticks around.

Point blank, he now looked like a Tokyo Ghoul reject. Between the pale skin and the white hair all he was missing were a pair of glowing red eyes and a gimp mask. Instead of glowing red eyes he got glowing mint green eyes (he'll roll back to that), which weren't as cool but were probably less likely to make pedestrians call him a vampire and pelt him with garlic so… he'd take it?

Who was he fooling? Waking up and looking like a ghost was doing his mental health zero favors. He had to keep reminding himself that sharing a color wheel with a wet newspaper was a small price to pay in exchange for not looking like a spilled paint can in a haunted house.

Another change was his name, but at least that one was self inflicted. When he woke up a few doctors accidentally called him Taro Yamada for some reason, and then when they eventually asked him what his actual name was he said they might as well call him John Doe as a joke and might've forgotten the fact that a bunch of Japanese people probably wouldn't immediately know what that American name meant.

They figured it out around the same time he figured out what Taro Yamada meant, and wasn't that one of the interactions of all time. Apparently nurses and doctors don't have a whole lot of black humor. Or maybe a young teen calling himself "unknown corpse" was just generally upsetting to people. Who knows?

Since this was his second life and his first name was secondhand garbage that got him nothing but bad luck he decided he was probably better off just rolling with the joke until he settled on an actual name later on.

Another change he was going through (and probably should've been considered the most important one) were his eyes. There was something a little… off about them. And "John" didn't just think that because they now glowed like shamrock flavored nuclear waste.

Nah, the real problem was he apparently now had fucking super powers. He wasn't exactly thrilled to find that out. He hated capeshit in his first life, so finding out his entire second life was just pure unfiltered capeshit wasn't exactly thrilling him. Having super powers was cool when it was just a thought, but it kinda became sour when it turned into reality.

Everyone always liked to imagine they were the next Superman, but nobody ever liked to think about what would happen if they just got shit like "TMI"-vision that gave people he directly looked at seizures. Or convulsions. Or just a general feeling of overwhelming dread and dissection. His only solace was he didn't get something actually debilitating like "drug sweat" or "bone spurs."

Or, in less vague terms, His new "quirk" (he didn't decide on the term) was called Diagnosis, and it let him see everything about anyone's body that he so much as glanced at. Even worse, he couldn't forget almost any of the information he learned even if he tried.

How did he know this? Easy. His power fucking told him while he was sleeping right before he first woke up.

One moment, he was experiencing absolutely nothing, not even a blank void. If he was an Atheist that'd be about what he'd expect after getting skull-fucked by the Michelin man on a warm Autumn evening.

And then suddenly he was standing in a black void with a single burning green star in the center of it, and all of sudden his peaceful ego-death was being interrupted with the possibility that the Mormons were the religion that got it right.

Meh, it could've been worse. At least he wasn't fighting in the soul wars against Lord Xenu in revenge for bombing ancient Hawaii with hydrogen bombs.

That small mercy still didn't help him get over the fact that he died from a rental van. There's something extra insulting about dying from a vehicle that nobody even owns. It's like a dark parallel for getting conceived in a rental.

If anyone ever asked him how long he shuffled in place in his own purgatory before he "interacted" with the burning green sun, he'd say… about three minutes? Maybe less? It wasn't like he had anything else to do. What's the worst thing that could've happened? He dies again?

Eventually he just shoved his entire arm elbow-deep into the shamrock sun, and uh...

Diagnosis

This Quirk can be used to give the user incredible amounts of varied and specific knowledge on the body of those visually observed. With this power, the user is able to get precise measurements of all kinds, age, medical conditions, broken bones, birth marks and more. The longer the user continues to observe a target, the more details they are able to learn, almost endlessly. Useful for locating enemy weaknesses or applying medical treatment in equal parts. The user must continue observing for additional details and observe a target in person. Collected details through this Quirk can be remembered incredibly well.


He had no fucking clue what that stream of information that just forcefully injected itself into his frontal lobe even meant. And he wouldn't know what any of it meant until he eventually woke up in an unfamiliar room, slowly cranked his head to the right of himself, and locked eyes with a shell-shocked purple nurse in clown-vomit scrubs.

She screamed, he screamed, they all screamed… for severe sleep inertia, that is. You ever wake up and immediately get flashbanged by bright light? Yeah, well try bright colors. That shit was seizure inducing.

Almost as seizure inducing as his eyes must've been, because the nurse could barely tolerate him staring at her for two seconds before she tore out of the room screaming for the other nurses.

Yeah, those first thirty seconds he was awake in this new world basically set the tone for how the rest of his life was probably gonna play out…

The next few days after that moment were pretty much one big conga line of medical professionals that studied words he couldn't pronounce asking him questions that slowly devolved from "Do you know your full legal name" to "Do you even know what a human is???"

Considering the fact that some humans are now anthropomorphic gardening tools, the answer to that was a surprisingly firm "No." Apparently he didn't know a goddamn thing about this world anymore. At this point his bed could ask him to turn off the lights when he went to sleep and he wouldn't bat an eye.

...Alright, that's a lie. He'd shriek so loud he'd be able to flee the room by flying out the window on a cloud of bats that heard his cry for help and answered the call.

After about three days of questions with some medical professionals that were so qualified they lost the need to brag about it, and the diagnosis was in. John Doe didn't know JACK from SHIT. His knowledge was so eclectic that they couldn't even come up with a diagnosis for it.

Probably because "isekai victim" wasn't something that could be found in the DSM-5. No, wait. This was two hundred years in the future. They were probably way past the DSM-5 by now.

It was probably because "isekai victim" wasn't something that could be found in the DSM-6.

He quickly realized that he was probably better off just riding off the stolen valor of whatever the medical professionals cooked up and decided to just be brutally honest with them, not say more than the bare minimum if they asked him personal questions, and let them connect their own dots.

None of the medical professionals ever directly stated what they thought happened to him or how he ended up in Japan instead of North America, but he wasn't braindead. Nurses and doctors could only verbally coddle him so many times in a day before he realized it was something generically tragic and miserable.

He was probably better off with the government assuming he was a braindead kid that was human trafficked instead of a braindead kid from 200 years in the past. He would rather not spend the rest of his life explaining pre-quirk history to these people.

If they wanted to know how many wonders of the world there originally were maybe they shouldn't have fucking blown half of them up with Dodon Rays!

The new world was certainly a nightmare. How much of a nightmare? Well the crime rate in America was now 20%, so uh… about that much of a nightmare.

Don't ask him how it was even possible for a continent sized country to even have numbers that absurd and still be able to function. His two best guesses were villains all just openly worked day jobs and would rob their coworkers the second they clocked out for the day, or there were entire secret cities full of super-villains hidden in the mountains.

The latter sounded like nonsensical bullshit that would be literally impossible to pull off due to satellite imagery, so he immediately assumed it was that one and tried not to think too hard about it. He failed, but he tried.

That's basically how the first week of the rest of his life passed since he woke up. Doctors asked him questions, he occasionally answered them, and the nurses would interact with him and try to pressure him into leaving his room for longer than the time it took the staff to tidy it up. Apparently you could do things at hospitals besides just lay on a bed?

Not that he would ever know. If they didn't want him claiming that room, they shouldn't have given him his own room complete with a television, a remote, and infinite free time. There was only one way that was going to go.

Doomscrolling. So. Much. Doomscrolling. Or whatever the TV boomer version of it was called. The more he watched and learned, the more he wished that Uhaul put it in reverse and went back for round two. At first he thought he was watching the villain version of shark week, and then he found out it was just the live news.

Imagine if every time you turned on the news there was a 50/50 shot you either witnessed a generational hostage crisis or a generational domestic terrorist attack. And it happened every. Single. Day. And it was always the same exact shit.

Back in his day, they named bombings after the city they happened in. Nowadays they got named after the street!

Someone tries committing a class 4 felony, they get caught because they skipped leg day, and their solution to being caught committing a minor crime that would probably be a year in prison and a fine is to upgrade to a class 0 felony by vaporizing an entire street as the Super Cops stand fifty feet back and yell at them to stop and surrender… while doing absolutely nothing.

He didn't want to admit that of all things gave him an inordinate amount of nostalgia. Very short-lived nostalgia though, since Captain Superlander would always show up in the nick of time and deck the scizoid of the hour into next week with a gigawatt smile.

Considering the fact that half the time Superlander showed up he would just be wearing cargo pants and a white shirt, he felt that it was safe to say that the guy was objectively the world's greatest Super Cop.

The same statistics that said America had a 20% crime rate also said Japan "only" had a 6% rate, and it was entirely because of All Might. Unless this world was just 1984 and literally everything on the tv was fake, he could believe that. In fact he should probably put some respect on the guy's name for making it so he could lounge in a hospital watching tv instead of having to brawl with the other braindead orphans in the sewers for first rights to the rat-grounds to hunt.

He'd need to thank All Might if he ever somehow stumbled into him. Only if it wasn't a public spectacle though. The last thing he needed was to turn himself into an /r/heckinwholesome clip farm.

Normally he'd feel like a bit of a boot-licker for thanking a Super Cop for packing up and shipping out first offenders to a prison named after an ancient hell pit, but when the first offenders are all Osama Bin Bundy… meh. He could stomach the taste of leather in his mouth.

Hearing several short knocks on the door to his room, he finally quit his dissociative episode short jog down memory lane and turned to stare at the purple skinned nurse walking in. Unlike the first time they clapped eyes, this time she at least met his gaze with a bright smile.

Apparently his crucio-vision was a first-time only thing. Ode to fuckin' joy. The hospital gave him a pair of those big clunky sunglasses you only see on blind people and snowboarders so he wouldn't seizure-bang an entire crowd if he looked outside his window, but he almost never bothered wearing them besides when he left his room.

There's not really a point in it if he already knows everything there is to know about all the staff and he never goes outside. Also, he couldn't see shit with them on.

Nodding at the nurse, he slowly slouched upwards and sat on the center of his bed before lazily waving at her, not even bothering to lift more than two fingers and a thumb. How is it possible to fuck up a hand wave? Don't ask him, he was still stuck on "how is it possible to fuck up dying?"

"Hey, Nurse Ashido. You're here early. Was there something wrong with the tests yesterday, or…?" He honestly wasn't sure what the "or" could've even been. It wasn't like the staff ever swung by for anything besides food, tests, and more tests.

Holding a purple hand up to her mouth, the nurse just giggled at his now-baffled response before she began to speak. "Ara ara, has Snowball already forgotten what day it is?" Why yes, yes he did.

Instead of admitting his brain was smooth enough to get fired out of a musket, he instead chose to focus on a more pressing fact that just popped up…

"There's no way you just said "ara ara." That's not something real people actually say." The nurse just puffed her cheeks out at him like a pufferfish and blew a raspberry at that. Ahh, now that's the healthcare quality he had grown up with.

"Someone's been watching too much anime. I'll have you know that it's a totally normal thing for older women to say." Staring up at the smiling nurse, he was suddenly glad that Japan didn't actually respect double jeopardy, because he had to call her out twice on that.

"Lady, you look like you're not even through college yet. Pull the other rope, it'll ring a bell." That just made the woman look even happier for some God forsaken reason.

"Aww, aren't you a charmer. You know, some people do say that mutants age gracefully. A dog never gets wrinkles, or however that saying goes." He did not know. In fact, he didn't really know what to say to any of that.

Was Mutant even an official term? Was it slang? A slur? Did this madwoman just drop a hard M in the middle of her day job? Was she, dare he say it, based?

Before he could ask any of that she already had her phone in her hand and was blitzing through an entire photo album to show her pics of… her younger sister?

"This is Mina! Or as I like to call her, my little pinkie!" Nevermind, he suddenly believed she was a middle aged woman. Showing a complete stranger pictures of your teenage daughter just so you can brag about your kids at work was peak midlife behavior.

Mistaking his look of secondhand horror for poor Mina as curiosity, Nurse Ashido just kept chattering on about her kid. "She's our little trooper! And our little dancer. I still remember the first time she tried break-dancing with her quirk and melted half our backyard. If our landlord didn't also have a kid with a destructive emitter quirk he probably would've been less underst-"

It was around this point that he completely mentally checked out of the conversation and just let the nurse freely brag to him about how her kid was the best one in the whole world. If he could survive dog owners calling their pets their furbabies then he could survive a mom gushing over her literal baby.

Not that she was wrong to gush about her kid. If he was a dad he'd probably brag about the fact that his kid could shoot acid out of their hands, break dance, and was going to university at 15 years old.

Talk about being an overachiever.

Everything else was typical horse girl shit. "My daughter can run six miles before breakfast. My daughter can powderize concrete with her kicks. My daughter wants to be a Super Cop!" He was a decade too young for this PTA-coded conversation.

He had to admit though, if this Mina chick was born a few centuries earlier she probably would've been able to conquer a country all by herself. Maybe even become a mid-tier deity in whatever religion she injected herself into. Too bad she was born in the era where toddlers were reality manipulators.

Talk about being born in the wrong generation. All she needs now was a pair of bell bottoms and a Beatles vinyl.

And then Nurse Ashido said something that tripped a wire in his brain, and before he knew it he was already getting dragged out of his own head and back to Ashido's TED talk about the Mongolian warlord she called a daughter. Damn, was Disney still a thing? If they were he needed to sell that idea to them. That was the exact kind of shit they loved to make into a sitcom.

He'd call it "Good Luck Genghis". He'd make millions. Wait, shit. He was zoning out again. He needed to focus on Nurse Ashido and whatever the hell she just said.

"What do you mean my mom is swinging by today to see me?" The first and last thing he ever heard about his mom was she died giving birth to him and his brother before the feds DNA tracked their dad to the states, and he doubted she got run over by the same truck that hauled his ass to the future.

Closing her yapping mouth with an audible click of teeth clanking together, the nurse blinked at him in confusion for a moment before letting out an awkward laugh. "Woops, my bad. What I meant to say is that Ms. Kayama is finally coming by today for a first time visit with you, to uh… make sure you mesh well! We wouldn't want you getting adopted by someone you hated, am I right?"

He just continued to stare at her. "Ashido… what the hell are you talking about?"

Nurse Ashido started to look a bit… frazzled at that. "O-oh. You were being serious earlier, huh? That's… hmm." Quickly typing away on a thin tablet that was hooked to the edge of his bed, the nurse slotted it back into place and flashed him a nervous smile.

"You shouldn't have any memory lapses after today, but I should still run this by your head doctor." He had a what? "I'll be back in just a moment, Snowball. It's probably best if I get this checked over sooner rather than later."

Yeah, he needed to get a new name ASAP. If he knew the staff were just gonna name him like a stray cat and troll him on the daily he wouldn't have run with the joke.

...At least he isn't neutered?

Pausing in the doorway as she zipped out, Ashido grabbed onto the side of the door and poked her head back in. "Also, are you still feeling open to meeting Ms. Kayama? If not then I can reschedule the visit while I'm meeting with the head."

He tilted his head as he thought it over, and then shrugged. "Might as well continue if it's already scheduled for today. I'm not dumb enough to pass up on a day one adoption."

Honestly, this sounded like some Disney special shit. Who would turn that fairy tale ending down just because the vibes were off?

Nurse Ashido's lips just thinned a little at that for a brief moment before she slapped a big smile on her face and nodded at him. "Alright, but just remember that this day is for you, not for her. If you start feeling uncomfortable, upset, or even just don't want to keep socializing then you can cancel the visit at any point. Before, during, or even after."

One half of that he didn't pay attention to, and the other half he didn't believe. Either way, he limply nodded at her before flopping back down into his bed. "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll go well."

Letting another small frown slip onto her face, the nurse just nodded at him a second time as he continued to stare at her. She tried throwing in a spare smile. He didn't give it back. After a few moments Nurse Mina briskly walked out of the room and off to his "head doctor", whatever that meant. Did hospitals function like bee hives?

What a terrifying thought. Turning the television suspended from the far wall on, he shuffled himself deeper into the pillows as he began to listen to the latest broadcast.

"A gruesome story leads off our afternoon news cast today. The body of Kyoto hero, Codec, has been found deceased by local police. An official statement has not been given by police as of this moment, but it is suspected that this is yet again the work of the villainous hero killer, Stain. We at Jackal News wish to give our condolences to the fam-"

Zoning out as the newscaster on the screen rambled on about the serial-killer of the year, he tried very hard not to fall asleep as a cool breeze drifted in from his window and washed over him.

It was so hard to get worked up over any of the awful shit he heard on the tv at this point. He had kind of resigned himself to the fact that he was living in a perpetual apocalypse now. It was also kind of hard to care about some psycho running around and maiming people by the dozen when there was at least one kaiju a month that maimed people by the hundreds.

He had eventually asked a nurse how old All Might was after it fully clicked in his head that this entire country's crime rate hinged on a single guy that's been doing it for decades. After getting several variations of "too old for you", he got an actual number.

The guy was 53 years old in an industry where people usually got crippled and retired by 35. As far as he could tell, nobody else seemed to notice or care about this fact. The majority opinion seemed to be that he was All Might! And All Might could beat anyone!

Yeah, he could beat a hundred S-class villains a day, every day, for a decade straight. But who was he supposed to throw hands with when his bones start clicking like a Geiger counter and his hair turned gray? Father Time?

The way he saw it, he basically had a decade or less to blitz his education, get enough cash built up to build a cabin in the wilderness, and immediately flee civilization to go hide a hundred miles away from the ticking time bombs that cities now were. Maybe he'd get eaten by a drugged up vagabond with a wendigo quirk. Maybe he'd get blown up by a villain that really hated forests.

Nobody ever accused Hell of lacking in creativity.

The fact that those were both now things that could happen made his skin crawl like he replaced his tendons with fire ants. Dear Christ, what an actual nightmare to think about. He guessed he just needed to think less.

If he deluded himself into thinking the empty glass was half full of air, he could at least look at the silver lining and say that those two things were probably way less likely than getting blown up by a purse snatcher, which was basically guaranteed if he stuck around the city for longer than a decade.

He wouldn't be surprised if people bragged about getting caught up in a terrorist attack the same way people in L.A bragged about having police chases blow through their neighborhoods.

Letting out another yawn, he tried not to fall asleep and went back to doomscrolling the channels. It wasn't like there was any point in watching entertainment media in this universe. It was literally all just capeshit. All video games, all movies, all music… made about capes, by capes, for cape fans.

Honestly, it was actually kinda easy to just take a few moments and pretend the world is exactly the same as his old one if he just stared at the ceiling and treated the tv like a radio playing some hammy "War of The Worlds" doomsday station. Just about everything out his window at least looked the same as what he remembered if he only looked from the corner of his eyes.

Same old brick buildings. Same old tech. Same old laws. As long as he didn't look under the hood, at least. Brand new crime statistics though, but they're out of sight so he tried to keep them out of mind. He failed horribly, but he tried.

If everything still tripped the same "this is fake bullshit" wire in his brain, then he might as well treat the real footage as pulp fiction. At least the effects were better.


Nemuri Kayama


Pacing back and forth beside her car with her phone clenched in her hand, Nemuri tried to get her quirk under control well enough to actually drive to the hospital and see the kid in person for the first time without getting pulled over by a cop that assumed she was smoking literal purple hash.

The hospital had just called her to let her know some good news and some bad news. The bad news was that the meds the kid had to be put on to help his body recover from the whole "was in a coma for a month" thing had caused a memory lapse and he had forgotten she was visiting that day. And possibly also about being adopted.

She had been expecting at least a few curve balls today, but getting "hey your maybe-kid got one-time dementia" wasn't on that list of expectations. It was enough of a monkey wrench to make her need to get out of the car before her quirk filled the entire car with smoke..

But hey! The good news was that it was probably the "last" time it'd happen! Honest! The fact that they kept saying last time and never said "first time" made her wonder how many other things the kid had just… deleted from their brain in the week they had woken up.

The kid could remember every single character from some old cartoon called Loony Toons but apparently his full legal name wasn't good enough for his brain to bother saving.

She was in agreement with the staff at the hospital. There was no way in hell she was calling the kid "John Doe", so the kid better cook up a good fast if he didn't want her calling him Snowball in public. White hair, big green eyes, and a stray in need of a home? The nickname was inevitable. The best Snowball could do was accept it.

If someone told Nemuri three months ago she was going to be a mom... heh, she probably would have believed it.

If they told her it was going to be because she adopted a buck wild bonkers trafficking victim because the alternative was letting them get gobbled up and absorbed into the public system… she probably would've still believed it.

Hey, she's a hero. You don't reach a decade in the industry without experiencing a few things. And the few things she's seen from the alternative kids that go through public works made her start moving to adopt the brat before she even finished mulling it over.

Yeah the doctors didn't have an actual diagnosis on the kid yet, but just from the few secondhand stories the nurses have told her about the kid… he probably qualified for a few things. Not that she cared. Half the heroes in the industry could "qualify" for more than a license.

You kinda had to have your head screwed on a bit loosely to make it in an industry where you needed to decide before you were even in high school that spending a majority of your time doing repetitive tasks until you passed out while also studying dry as dirt legal books in your free time was a good use of your life.

She had already been thinking about getting a kid one way or another in a year or so even before she found the kid, so as far as she was concerned this was as good a chance as any. Hell, she was already registered as both a case worker and as liable to adopt. Basically every staff member at UA had the latter, and basically every hero had the former.

Being able to adopt wasn't mandatory to work at U.A, they were all just self-aware bleeding hearts. She gave it two years or less before Aizawa adopts a kid himself.

Luckily for both her and the kid, she was the one that found him, which meant she got first dibs on taking him in. And that wasn't just her being snarky. That was some bona fide legitimate legality.

She had found him during a human trafficking bust, and he was kind of just laying on a steel table in the corner of the traffickers "med-bay", out of sight and probably out of mind. It took the detectives about half an hour to even find one of the traffickers that knew where the kid came from.

What did they have to say for the kid's origins? Apparently, they just found the completely addled kid passed out on the side of the road while they were driving back to their hideout and said "screw it, the more the merrier!"

Nemuri didn't buy that, and neither did the cops. One round with the police force's very own lie detector and it turned out that they should've bought it, because it was the genuine article.

The kid's case kind of went cold after that. He wasn't in any systems, had zero records, and apparently even had the extra toe joint that signaled quirklessness. That informal test wasn't exactly foolproof or anything, but between the toe joint and the kid only remembering history and pop culture from before the dawn of quirks… the case was one of those odd ones that'd probably spawn off a hundred conspiracy theories if it ever became public knowledge.

Here's hoping that the kid could at least move on from whatever happened to him and didn't get dragged face first into more bad drama. Heroes had a bit of a bad habit of sticking their noses into messy disasters, so the chance of him getting completely left alone by the industry was… slim.

Very slim. Meh, oh well. She was already planning on trying to send the kid to U.A anyways. There was about a Snowball's chance in Hell that the kid would last one school day before getting glomped by at least one hero hopeful.

Good luck avoiding heroes when your neutral face triggered the same reaction people got from seeing a wet puppy lost in a blizzard. That's a pretty bad look to be rocking while attending the most marvelous hive of nobility and heroics this side of the planet.

At least, she hoped that he'd end up attending U.A. If Snowball couldn't manage the coursework then she'd figure something out. She was a highly certified teacher at one of the top universities in the country and was also a highly rated pro. Money wasn't an issue, and she had options.

If both private schooling and home schooling didn't work out then she'd just settle on reminding Nezu that he owes her a dozen times over for doing some undercover work for him and get her kid a diploma ye olde style. And by that she meant "flagrant nepotism."

Public schooling was completely out of the question from the get-go. Nemuri was sadistic, not sociopathic.

Nemuri was pretty sure the kid could manage U.A's course if he went plus ultra. She had heard enough about the kid to know that just because his head was on sideways didn't mean it was empty. The lights were on, and the house was well lit.

Unfortunately, the lights were all just Christmas bulbs.

Meh. Oh well. If Nemuri had anything to say about it then her kid was gonna get a diploma, even if she has to tie him to a desk and bring out the yardstick.

...She definitely needed to tone down her Hero Persona before she went off to meet the kid for the first time. It's one thing to bust out that kinda talk when handling villains, "fans", or hero hopefuls that are already knee deep in the industry. It's a bit of another thing to act like that with a trafficking victim.

Right. All Nemuri had to do was keep her cool, not freak out the kid that probably had a half-dozen hair triggers, figure out exactly how to accommodate a probably traumatized teenager that most likely had communication issues, and then figure out the proper education setup for an American that's mentally stuck two centuries in the past that is now living in modern Japan.

Hmm. When Nemuri put it like that, she realized that she might be a bit fucked.


AN:

This is a rewrite of a (very brief) story I wrote a few months back called Everlong. I didn't like how flippantly I handled it and decided to restart it and write it properly. This one will probably diverge from Everlong's content pretty quickly. This first chapter felt a bit clunky, but then I remembered the first chapter of the OG was in first person (the only part of the story that was) and over half the chapter was the MC just wildly swearing at himself as I set-up a bunch of plots that went nowhere, so… it's probably not any worse than the original version.

Some things got dropped, some things stayed, and a few things got switched around. I'll say it right now that the Celestial Mutagen is basically just here as my go-to vending machine for plot beats to play with and that I'm not going to add that many powers to this fic. This version isn't going to be a "new power a day keeps the opps at bay." He'll probably get two-three quirks quickly, have those get fleshed out for a bit, and then I'll go from there.
 
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Looking forward to where you go with this!
I feel like handling powers as plotbeats is a good way to do it.

I'm making a Chaos Gacha fic where the protagonist didn't actually get the Gacha, but several tickets because of an oopsy-daisy.
They get an influx of random powers, and then they have to make use of what they get.
 
Time to fact check collectors of 200 year old action figures.
That mutant age thing is so true but part of it people have no idea how old a non-human is exactly like wrinkles on a dog how would you even tell there skin is free flowing like a cat not anchored except at a few points like openings and limbs and also fur covered.
Also imagine mr corpse here standing on a hill in the forest flash banging a entire city with his eyes, wonder if it works on nonhumans like looking at groceries to find the best ones and learning about them
 
Time to fact check collectors of 200 year old action figures.
That mutant age thing is so true but part of it people have no idea how old a non-human is exactly like wrinkles on a dog how would you even tell there skin is free flowing like a cat not anchored except at a few points like openings and limbs and also fur covered.
Also imagine mr corpse here standing on a hill in the forest flash banging a entire city with his eyes, wonder if it works on nonhumans like looking at groceries to find the best ones and learning about them
The use of 'the body of those', 'locating enemy weaknesses' and 'medical treatment' implies it is intended to be limited to living creatures, but the author is the author so, up to them.
It's pretty useful even if limited to living creatures. (Aside from the involuntary seizure inducement, that is.)
 
Looking forward to where you go with this!
I feel like handling powers as plotbeats is a good way to do it.

I'm making a Chaos Gacha fic where the protagonist didn't actually get the Gacha, but several tickets because of an oopsy-daisy.
They get an influx of random powers, and then they have to make use of what they get.
I wish you luck with the beginning of it and hope nobody tries poking you into writing what they want. The absolute beginning of the first verison of this fic on SB had a couple of the most annoying commenters I've experienced in any fic I've written yet on any site, and the race isn't close. I mean, even then a majority of commenters were really nice, but some of them... holy shit. Power-obsessed gacha bros are a whole other breed. If someone ever tries telling you how you should write your fic by just blabbering their headcanon on your fic as a basic fact of life I suggest just ignoring them asap.
 
The use of 'the body of those', 'locating enemy weaknesses' and 'medical treatment' implies it is intended to be limited to living creatures, but the author is the author so, up to them.
It's pretty useful even if limited to living creatures. (Aside from the involuntary seizure inducement, that is.)
Well fun thing about fresh (rarely a few when frozen) vegetables, fruits, berries is that they are still alive they only die when they start rotting the cells are all still working even if slowly, the day they die they start turning into goo or go transparent for leaves
 
Well fun thing about fresh (rarely a few when frozen) vegetables, fruits, berries is that they are still alive they only die when they start rotting the cells are all still working even if slowly, the day they die they start turning into goo or go transparent for leaves
The quirk is written specifically with people's bodies in mind, so people (as broad as that term now is) and other complex organisms are probably all it's gonna be able to be used on. So no permanent info-bomb from looking at every single blueberry and blade of grass he has to see. That'd probably make the MC go insane after a day. Funnily enough I'm actually nerfing the power pretty hard by making it only able to be used with direct eye contact (the power only says it needs to be a visual observation, it never said anything about being in-person). The MC would probably also go insane if he got TMI just from watching TV or looking at pictures, so that nerf is honestly a blessing. Fun meta fact that'll probably never come up in the fic itself, nothing about the power says the target needs to be alive. It just says he needs to visually observe "the target" to get the info.
 
I wish you luck with the beginning of it and hope nobody tries poking you into writing what they want. The absolute beginning of the first verison of this fic on SB had a couple of the most annoying commenters I've experienced in any fic I've written yet on any site, and the race isn't close. I mean, even then a majority of commenters were really nice, but some of them... holy shit. Power-obsessed gacha bros are a whole other breed. If someone ever tries telling you how you should write your fic by just blabbering their headcanon on your fic as a basic fact of life I suggest just ignoring them asap.
Thanks! I appreciate it. I do hope that the fact that the powers she gets are all she gets will help, at least a little.
Can't pester about future rolls, if there aren't any.

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Though I guess they could still complain about how she uses her rolls, or powergame combos? Hm.
 
The quirk is written specifically with people's bodies in mind, so people (as broad as that term now is) and other complex organisms are probably all it's gonna be able to be used on. So no permanent info-bomb from looking at every single blueberry and blade of grass he has to see. That'd probably make the MC go insane after a day. Funnily enough I'm actually nerfing the power pretty hard by making it only able to be used with direct eye contact (the power only says it needs to be a visual observation, it never said anything about being in-person). The MC would probably also go insane if he got TMI just from watching TV or looking at pictures, so that nerf is honestly a blessing. Fun meta fact that'll probably never come up in the fic itself, nothing about the power says the target needs to be alive. It just says he needs to visually observe "the target" to get the info.
Fair enough! I'd also go nuts if I wave to someone on the street, get a brain-blast of what they had for dinner, the state of their bones, and the fact that they can blow bubbles or some shit, every time I go outside.
 
Hopefully it doesn't end up having a pit bull daycare again... it was funny at first but I got bored of it real quick
 
This is great. Thank you for the chapter. Looking forward to more.
 
Thanks for the chapter this was PEAK only fault it's that it doesn't have more chapters cause i want more
 
The quirk is written specifically with people's bodies in mind, so people (as broad as that term now is) and other complex organisms are probably all it's gonna be able to be used on. So no permanent info-bomb from looking at every single blueberry and blade of grass he has to see. That'd probably make the MC go insane after a day. Funnily enough I'm actually nerfing the power pretty hard by making it only able to be used with direct eye contact (the power only says it needs to be a visual observation, it never said anything about being in-person). The MC would probably also go insane if he got TMI just from watching TV or looking at pictures, so that nerf is honestly a blessing. Fun meta fact that'll probably never come up in the fic itself, nothing about the power says the target needs to be alive. It just says he needs to visually observe "the target" to get the info.
Would he not basically get numb to it there is only so much information as the brain merges categories so its just all grass is pretty similar like different shades of green "grass: needs watering, American import bluegrass" the load dont seem large compared to as he dont seems to be info bombed by people (literally scanning reality bending or breaking anomalies that only get explained by effect and not cause) with its more them getting scan bombed like just the feeling of his medium that interacts with the body for information doing a deep scan literally touching there bones and then refining information.

Like we got different information density mediums here but interesting is if potentially the less fidelity of information needed from a scan means less of a felt scanning effect like the more similar something is the less samples needed like if you scan someones grandparents then there parents then the them would each step have a lesser sensation on the scan target? With a remarkable stronger weakening on non quirked targets like Scan one dog and you basically scanned most dogs of that breed making the scan effect extremely weaker basically nothing on the same type that also translates too weaker on other dogs breeds each time?
Would have been funny if plants felt his gaze imagine a plant recoiling and flinching away over a week slowly.

On the alive thing... Yeah it sort of hits that broad human categories now of "is this somehow even alive?" Like a virus technically we got people made out of concept and non biological suspensions of gravitons or silica or pure robotic parts like how do you even know its a person without scanning like you see that background art of the quadroped snail dragon with a curling tube old classical lolipop Shell with eye stalks and a goofy tongue? Like some people got shit luck in this world.

Why would he get any information from watching tv or pictures beyond implied visual dimensions and motion? Its like x-raying a computer monitor with a picture of a arm? And expecting to see bones. Is watching a representation even observing something? if he could Scan that medium so would this mean the person feels you scanning pictures of them? Or watching a video like a inverse "shyguy"?
 
Please bring back Pit Bull Prison Daycare Simulator this was the best part! You must finish the glorious game!

Yes, please. I literally laughed for like 5 minutes straight during that chapter in the previous one. You write peak comedy.

I wish you luck with the beginning of it and hope nobody tries poking you into writing what they want. The absolute beginning of the first verison of this fic on SB had a couple of the most annoying commenters I've experienced in any fic I've written yet on any site, and the race isn't close. I mean, even then a majority of commenters were really nice, but some of them... holy shit. Power-obsessed gacha bros are a whole other breed. If someone ever tries telling you how you should write your fic by just blabbering their headcanon on your fic as a basic fact of life I suggest just ignoring them asap.

Yeah, those guys are pretty annoying. But the best way to think of them is that even if they want you to do something else, your writing must be so good that they just keep coming back to read it again and again.
 
I do hope you keep the whole "AFO thinks he's Yoichi reincarnated because he generates quirks" thing

That was hilarious

And him being the opposite of AFO, in that he generates quirks instead of taking them does actually explain the gatcha
 
Holding a purple hand up to her mouth, the nurse just giggled at his now-baffled response before she began to speak. "Ara ara, has Snowball already forgotten what day it is?"
"Lady, you look like you're not even through college yet. Pull the other rope, it'll ring a bell." That just made the woman look even happier for some God forsaken reason.

"Aww, aren't you a charmer.
Milf spotted, engaging Kakyoin protocols! She must be cracked!
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Talk about being born in the wrong generation. All she needs now was a pair of bell bottoms and a Beatles vinyl.
And her daughter too, finish the set!
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If someone told Nemuri three months ago she was going to be a mom... heh, she probably would have believed it.
She counts too I guess, solve her dream! Make this adoptive mother a milf in truth!
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