Chapter 1: The Blue Hemisphere
The soft morning light crept through the window, casting long shadows across a room that clearly belonged to a dedicated fan. Posters of various Pro Heroes adorned the walls, but the most prominent space above the desk was reserved for something else entirely: a framed, vintage poster of a pirate surgeon wearing a spotted hat.
Mamoru Kiyota sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his deep black eyes. He ran a hand through his messy, dark blue hair, trying and failing to flatten the stubborn strands. Beside him, an old, well-read volume of the legendary manga 'One Piece' rested on his nightstand. In a world where people could fly, breathe fire, or lift buildings, Mamoru found his greatest inspiration in pages drawn centuries ago.
He glanced at the digital clock across the room. It was 6:30 AM. His school uniform was neatly folded on a chair on the opposite side of the bedroom.
Mamoru smiled slightly, raising his right hand.
"Room."
A faint, translucent blue dome expanded outward from his palm, sweeping silently across the bedroom until it enveloped the chair holding his uniform. The air inside the sphere hummed with a very subtle, almost imperceptible energy. He focused his gaze on the folded clothes, then flicked his fingers.
"Shambles."
In the blink of an eye, the space shifted. A soft pop echoed in the quiet room. Mamoru was now sitting on the chair across the room, and his folded uniform was resting neatly on the edge of the bed where he had just been.
It was a simple quirk. Registered officially as 'Spatial Swap', it allowed him to create a spherical boundary and instantly switch the positions of any two objects—or himself and an object—within that space. He couldn't heal people, he couldn't manipulate electricity, and he certainly couldn't cut things without touching them like his favorite fictional character, Trafalgar Law. His power was strictly limited to the blue room and the swap.
But to Mamoru, it was more than enough.
He dressed quickly, heading down to the kitchen. The smell of toasted bread and warm tea filled the air. His mother was already at the table, reading the morning news on her tablet. She looked up, her own dark hair tied in a loose ponytail, and offered a warm smile.
"Morning, Mamoru. You were practicing early today. I heard the faint pop from upstairs."
"Just grabbing my clothes," Mamoru mumbled through a bite of toast, taking his seat. "Gotta make it muscle memory. Zero hesitation."
She chuckled softly, pouring him a cup of tea. "Always racing against the speedsters. You know, you'd make a fantastic rescue hero. Less running, more saving."
"Running still takes time, Mom," he said, taking a sip of the warm tea. The warmth spread through his chest, waking him up fully. "I don't want to just be fast." He set the cup down, a quiet confidence in his dark eyes. "I'm going to be instantaneous."
He finished his breakfast in comfortable silence, the peaceful atmosphere of his home grounding him. After washing his plate, he grabbed his yellow backpack, making sure his latest manga volume was safely tucked inside the front pocket.
Walking to school was Mamoru's favorite part of the day. The streets were bustling with people starting their daily routines. He walked at a steady, calm pace, his black eyes observing everything around him. He watched a hero with stretching arms help a store owner fix a broken sign. He noticed a classmate with glowing hair jogging past him.
Every person he saw, every object on the street, was a potential anchor for his Quirk. A pebble on the sidewalk, a falling leaf, a discarded soda can. In his mind, he constantly drew invisible blue spheres, calculating distances, imagining the swaps. If a villain appeared there, he thought, looking at a distant intersection, I could toss my eraser, expand the room, swap with the eraser, and be behind them before they even blink.
It was a quiet, relentless kind of training. No flashy explosions, no broken bones. Just the steady, focused sharpening of his mind.
Mamoru stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. He patted his pocket, feeling the outline of a small, smooth stone he always carried with him—his favorite swapping anchor. The journey to become the fastest hero wouldn't be won in a day. It would be won through a million little moments, a million quiet swaps in the calm of the morning.
The light turned green, and Mamoru stepped forward, ready for whatever the day would bring.