"W-What? Unconventional?"
The crowd erupted in murmurs. All eyes turned to me—some filled with awe, others shadowed by unease—as the black, aura-wrapped eyeball floated eerily near me.
"WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!" Bakugo shouted, clearly outraged, his face twisted in disbelief.
"It means," my father replied calmly, "that the distance can't be measured using conventional methods."
Silence fell like a curtain. No one dared speak. And in that heavy quiet… I stood alone in the center of the circle.
Then, from the shadow at my feet, another black eyeball emerged—this one bearing a piercing, luminous indigo pupil.
"What kind of Quirk is that...?" whispered some of the students watching from behind, unable to hide their curiosity and dread.
[Aizawa Tsukasa: Second Quirk — Kamikuro, believed to be a spiritual entity capable of assisting in various tasks.]
***
Time passed, and my turn had ended. I could sense it—something about the way my classmates looked at me had changed. Whether it was admiration or unease, I wasn't sure.
Now, I stood silently, watching as Midoriya took his place in the softball throwing circle.
"Midoriya's test scores have been pretty poor so far," Iida muttered, rubbing his chin with a puzzled look.
Bakugo scoffed, turning sharply to point at Midoriya with irritation written all over his face.
"Obviously. He's just a Quirkless loser."
"Quirkless…?" I repeated in my mind, the word lingering uncomfortably.
Iida, clearly surprised, immediately refuted Bakugo's comment.
"Did you already forget what he did during the entrance exam?!"
I exhaled softly and returned my gaze to Midoriya, who stood trembling in the circle, clutching the softball tightly as if gathering every ounce of determination he had.
Then, with a firm motion, he wound up and threw the ball with all the strength he could muster.
[46 meters.]
I nearly gasped. This was the same Midoriya who had destroyed a massive robot's head during the entrance exam… and yet he only threw it 46 meters?
My eyes darted toward my father—and in that moment, everything clicked.
"What...? Wait—I'm sure I activated it," Midoriya muttered to himself in confusion.
"I erased your Quirk," my father said plainly.
Everyone turned to him, stunned. But now… he looked different. His hair floated upward, and the capture weapon around his neck seemed to drift on its own.
"And the reason is simple: someone like you shouldn't have been able to enter this academy."
Midoriya flinched, but he held his ground and stared back.
"You erased it...? Ah—Wait, I've heard of this before…! Are you the Erasure Hero, Eraser Head?!"
"E-Erasure Head? Who's that?" whispered a few students behind me as they formed a curious circle.
"…Yeah, sorry," I muttered softly, sadness creeping into my voice. "My dad's just an underground hero."
Father's voice turned sharper.
"From what I've seen, you can't control your Quirk properly. That means you can't use it efficiently."
He stepped forward slightly.
"Are you so sure someone will be there to save you if your arm gets shattered—or completely destroyed?"
Midoriya trembled, a guilty expression settling on his face.
"I-I just…" he stammered, trying to explain himself.
But in a blink, Father's capture cloth shot forward, coiling around him with precise force.
"As you can see… back then, no one was there to help you."
"There are heroes who've made their names by saving others—but not all heroes can afford to gamble like that."
Midoriya stood frozen, eyes shaking, staring into Father's glowing red ones.
"Face it, Izuku Midoriya. Your 'power' alone won't make you a hero."
Silence fell, tense and heavy. Then Father finally closed his eyes with a slow breath.
"I'm returning your Quirk. Try throwing it again."
Midoriya stood shakily, his face tired but determined. Whispers buzzed behind him, but he ignored them.
He stepped forward and took a firm stance, preparing once more. And in that moment, I found myself thinking:
There's no way he'll pull it off. What a shame.
His arm swung with everything he had—and a deafening blast echoed through the air.
But this time… he didn't fall.
[705.3 meters.]
I stood frozen. The others around me gasped, jaws dropping in disbelief. Midoriya raised his hand, his index finger bleeding slightly.
"So that's it… He focused all of his Quirk into just one finger. Incredible, Midoriya," I whispered in awe.
Now, tears welled up in Midoriya's eyes as he looked at Father with overwhelming emotion.
"Sensei! I… I can still move!"
Father grinned broadly, a hint of thrill in his eyes.
"Oho… Now that's interesting."