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(9 Advanced Chapters)
~~~~~
The graduation ceremony for Shizuoka Technical & Vocational High School took place on a Tuesday.
The temperature was 12 degrees Celsius. A thin drizzle fell on the corrugated metal roof of the assembly hall, creating a persistent, rhythmic tapping that drowned out the principal's speech.
Kaito Arisaka sat in the forty-second row. He was one of three hundred students dressed in identical, mass-produced navy blazers. The fabric was a cheap polyester blend that trapped heat but offered no breathability.
The chairs were made of molded blue plastic and were spaced exactly forty centimeters apart.
Kaito spent the forty-five-minute ceremony monitoring his internal systems. His "Update" was currently at a stable 100% synchronization.
Because the global public now viewed Hero X as a distant, legendary figure rather than an active participant in their daily lives, the pressure on Kaito's skin and bone structure had plateaued. He did not need to exert as much effort to look "Low-Res."
Kaito looked at his hands. They were calloused from three years of moving crates in his grandmother's shop. He had trimmed his fingernails to the quick. He was, by every physical metric, a mundane eighteen-year-old male.
"Arisaka, Kaito," the vice-principal called.
Kaito stood up. He walked down the aisle. His gait was slightly uneven, a deliberate choice to simulate a minor muscular imbalance in his left hip. He climbed the three wooden steps to the stage.
The principal handed him a cylindrical tube covered in imitation leather. Inside was a piece of heavy cardstock certifying that he had completed his vocational training in Logistics and Inventory Management.
"Good luck, Arisaka," the principal said, not looking him in the eye. He was already looking at the next folder in the stack.
"Thank you," Kaito said.
He descended the stairs and returned to his seat. He did not feel joy. He did not feel relief. He felt the completion of a logistical phase. He was now officially a civilian.
-----
Aizawa sat in the faculty lounge at UA High School. He was drinking black coffee from a paper cup. On the monitor in front of him, the final graduation reports for the region's vocational schools were scrolling by.
He stopped at the entry for Shizuoka Technical.
Name: Arisaka, Kaito.
Classification: Non-Threat / Dud.
Special Notes: Quirk Factor present but non-functional due to biological rejection.
Aizawa moved his cursor to the "Active Surveillance" checkbox and clicked it. A prompt appeared: Are you sure you want to archive this file?
Aizawa thought about the boy in the gym. He thought about the grey, dying skin and the smell of burnt ozone that led to nothing. He thought about the three years he had spent wondering if a god was hiding in a hardware store.
"Waste of time," Aizawa muttered.
He clicked Yes.
The file disappeared from his "High Priority" folder and was moved to the national archives. It would never be opened again unless Arisaka committed a felony.
Aizawa closed the laptop and turned his attention to his actual assignment: the "Golden Generation" of upcoming pros.
He pulled up the files for the rookies making waves in the national circuit. Keigo Takami, the youth currently being fast-tracked by the Commission, the boy who would become Hawks.
He looked at the progress reports for Shinji Nishiya, the young man experimenting with wood-based manipulation, who would soon be known as Kamui Woods.
"These are the ones who matter," Aizawa thought. "Actual talent. Actual output."
He didn't have any more time for dead ends or "Duds" who couldn't even stand up straight in a gym.
The world was moving toward a faster, younger, more aggressive breed of heroics. A boy with a broken factor in a Shizuoka backstreet was a ghost. Aizawa deleted the cache and focused on the real players.
-----
The HPSC headquarters in Tokyo was 140 kilometers away from Shizuoka. Agent Mera sat in a cubicle illuminated by flickering LED panels. She was looking at a budget spreadsheet that determined the survival of her department.
"Sir," a technician said, leaning over the partition. "The Shizuoka 'Soot Hero' account is still drawing funds for satellite pings. We're still tracking the Arisaka residence."
"The Arisaka boy?" Mera asked without looking up. Her voice was strained from eighteen hours of work.
"Yes. He graduated two hours ago. The audit came back negative. Total rejection of the factor."
"Cut the funding," Mera said, her tone final. "The Hero X sightings in Hosu were useless and was treated as high-altitude atmospheric reflections last week. We've spent millions chasing a him based on a viral video of a 'glitchy' face and a witness that could not even describe him face to face. If Hero X exists, he will not be connected to an eighteen-year-old boy working in a hardware store. Redirect the satellite time to the Kyushu region. I want more eyes on Takami. The HPSC investment in that boy needs to be protected."
The technician typed a command. Somewhere in the thermosphere, a high-resolution camera adjusted its gimbal and pointed away from Kaito's neighborhood.
The data stream that had monitored Kaito's every movement, every sneeze, and every trip to the grocery store for years simply cut to black.
For the first time since the "Snap" incident, no government agency was watching Kaito Arisaka. He was, legally and digitally, no one.
-----
Kaito walked home from the ceremony. The rain had intensified, soaking through his blazer and making the polyester feel heavy and cold against his skin. He did not go to a party. He did not go out for ramen with Saito. He went to the kitchen table, opened his laptop, and opened twenty-four browser tabs.
Kaito had no money in his bank account. He only has some pocket money savings and its wasn't enough. His grandmother's shop was barely breaking even. To maintain his cover as a "Normal Person," he needed a 9-5 job. A 9-5 job required an application process.
He began to type.
Application 1: Junior Warehouse Associate – Maru-Logistics. Task: Describe a time you demonstrated leadership.
Kaito's Answer: I organized the plumbing section of my family's hardware store by SKU number. Status: Submitted.
Application 2: Data Entry Clerk – Shizuoka Power & Water. Task: Upload Quirk Registry Certification.
Kaito's Action: Uploads 'dud' certification. Status: Submitted.
He filled out fields for his name, his address, his vocational degree, and his quirk status.
Every time he reached the "Quirk" section, he checked the box for Manifestation Failure (Dud).
By 8:00 PM, he had submitted forty-two applications.
By 10:00 PM, he had received six automated rejections.
"Thank you for your interest, but we have decided to move forward with candidates whose skill sets more closely match our needs."
Real-world logic was cold. He had no work experience for his resume. In a world where 80% of the population had an "advantage," Kaito was competing against people who could type with four extra arms or read documents at triple speed.
He was a bottom-tier candidate in a hyper-competitive market.
His neck throbbed. He deliberately let the tension settle into his shoulders. He didn't use his "Admin" powers to remove the fatigue. He wanted to feel it. He wanted the genuine, gritty exhaustion of a man who had spent hours staring at a screen for nothing.
"Kaito," Saki said, walking into the kitchen. She placed a bowl of cold rice and pickled radish in front of him. The smell of the vinegar was sharp and grounding.
"I'm applying," Kaito said, his voice dry.
"I know. The printer has been running for an hour. The ink is expensive." She sat down across from him. She looked at his graduation certificate, which was sitting on a pile of bills.
"You're a man now. The government doesn't care about you anymore. That's a good thing."
"It makes it harder to get a job," Kaito said.
"Most places want someone with a strength quirk or an intelligence quirk. Even the warehouses want 'Power-Types' so they don't have to buy forklifts."
"You'll find something," Saki said. "The world always needs people to move the paper. It's the one thing heroes don't want to do. They're too busy posing for cameras to worry about shipping manifests."
-----
Saki watched her grandson. She saw the way his fingers moved over the keyboard—too fast, too precise. She saw the way he didn't blink for minutes at a time.
She knew he was pretending. She knew that inside that plain, navy blazer was something that could level the city. She also knew that the world was a predatory place. If they knew what he was, they would use him until he was hollow. They would turn him into a weapon or a brand. Don't underestimate a Grandmother's instinct.
She preferred him like this. Frustrated by a slow internet connection. Worried about a paycheck. Grumbling about the price of ink.
"Eat your rice," she said. "The world will still be there tomorrow. The Hero Society isn't going to collapse in the next eight hours."
-----
The next two days were a exercise in physical and mental monotony.
Kaito spent Thursday morning walking to the industrial district. He wore his only suit—a cheap, ill-fitting set of slacks and a white shirt that was slightly yellowed at the collar. He had three interviews scheduled.
The first was at a chemical plant for a cleaning position.
The manager, a man with a quirk that made his head resemble a lightbulb, looked at Kaito's "Dud" status and sighed.
"Look, kid. We handle heavy containers. Most of our janitors have some kind of physical reinforcement. If you're a Dud, you're a liability if a shelf tips. Sorry."
The second was at a grocery distribution center.
"You have the vocational degree," the woman said, tapping a pen against her teeth. "But we have a candidate with a 'Speed' quirk who can process these manifests in half the time. Why should I hire a Dud?"
Kaito sat in the plastic chair. He could have told her that he could rewrite the manifest with a thought. He could have told her he was the most efficient entity on the planet.
"I'm reliable," Kaito said. "I don't get distracted by hero fights on the news."
"We'll call you," she said. She didn't call.
By Friday morning, Kaito's feet were sore. He had a blister on his right heel. He sat in the basement of the hardware store, organizing a shipment of PVC pipes.
It was mindless work. He counted the 20mm couplings. One. Two. Three. Fifty.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a low-battery alert—15%. Then, it vibrated again.
It was an unknown number with a local area code.
Kaito answered. "Hello. This is Arisaka."
"Mr. Arisaka? This is Sato from the Human Resources department at the Higashi Distribution Center. We saw your vocational degree in Logistics. Are you still looking for work?"
Kaito stood still. He leaned against a rack of galvanized nails. "Yes."
"The position is for a Junior Documentation Clerk. It's 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM, Monday through Friday. Entry-level salary. It's 180,000 yen a month before taxes.
You'll be responsible for verifying shipping manifests and inputting serial numbers into the national database. It's repetitive, boring work. Most people quit after a month because of the eye strain. Are you interested?"
"I am," Kaito said.
"Can you start Monday? 8:30 AM for orientation?"
"Yes."
"Great. Wear a white shirt and dark slacks. Bring your ID and your Quirk Registry card. Welcome to the team, Arisaka. Don't be late."
The line went dead.
Kaito put the phone back in his pocket. He looked at the PVC pipes. He looked at the dust motes dancing in the dim basement light.
Kaito was eighteen years old. He had no fans. He had no enemies. He had a 9-5 job that paid just enough to keep the lights on and the taxes paid.
Kaito reached out and touched a pipe. He didn't use his power. He just felt the cold, hard plastic. He was officially a ghost in the machine.
He had won. He was a nobody.
He walked upstairs to tell his grandmother.
Outside, on the street, a group of middle schoolers ran past the shop.
One of them was wearing an All Might t-shirt. They were laughing about a pro-hero fight that had happened in Tokyo that morning involving the rookie hero, had caused massive property damage.
Kaito didn't look at them. He closed the door of the shop and flipped the sign to Closed.
The seven-year countdown had officially begun.
~~~~~
[Author's Note]
This chapter concludes this arc. Kaito has moved from being a suspected "Dud" to a verified "Unusable Quirk" in the eyes of the law and the heroes.
Aizawa and the HPSC have officially turned their eyes toward the rising stars of the pro world—Hawks, Kamui Woods, and others—leaving Kaito to disappear into the mundane world of logistics.