The sun was only just beginning to peek over the city skyline when Mineta opened his eyes.
Day Four.
His body still ached from yesterday's training—the pleasant kind of ache, like a song echoing through muscle and bone. It reminded him that he was doing something. Changing. Becoming.
But today wasn't about pushups or posture.
Today was about his Quirk.
Mineta sat up, eyes shifting to the small notebook resting on the corner of his desk—his Progress Log, as he'd labeled it. Page three was already filled with scribbles: stats, goals, and thoughts. But page four? It had one phrase written in thick, underlined letters:
"UNDERSTAND YOUR QUIRK."
He stood, showered quickly, and dressed in a basic tracksuit. No breakfast yet. He wanted to get through this part first—like ripping off a bandage.
The house was still quiet. His parents were either asleep or just waking up, and that gave him a perfect window to head out.
He stepped into the backyard, the dew on the grass soaking through his socks almost instantly. A morning chill hung in the air. Birds chirped somewhere off in the distance. His breath came out in faint puffs of mist, but he didn't mind. He liked the cold—it helped him focus.
Mineta took a deep breath.
"Okay," he muttered, flexing his fingers. "Time to see what we're working with."
He reached up and yanked.
The sensation was… weird.
His scalp gave a sharp jolt of resistance as he pulled one of the purple balls from his hair. It popped off with a faint plop, leaving a slight sting in its place. The ball felt almost alive in his hand—warm, squishy, yet unnaturally adhesive.
The sticky sphere rolled in his palm. It immediately clung to his skin when he tried to switch hands.
He grimaced. "Disgusting."
But still—he needed to test it.
He crouched and pressed the sticky orb against a nearby rock.
It stuck.
Hard.
Mineta pulled. Tugged. It refused to budge. He placed both feet on the rock and pulled with both hands. Still stuck.
Okay... that's impressive.
Next, he peeled another ball from his head, wincing as three hairs came out with it. He rolled it between his fingers, watching as it left faint trails of goo before drying into a slightly tacky, solid surface.
"Hmm…"
Curious, he tossed it against the side of the shed.
Splat.
It stuck there, vibrating slightly before going still.
He tried to pull it down.
Didn't work.
No matter how much he tugged, it clung tight.
Stickiness level? 10 out of 10.
But… that was it.
No flashy activation. No explosion. No sudden transformation. Just a sticky ball that could stay in place.
A sigh left him.
He sat down on the porch steps, staring at the ball still stuck to the tree trunk.
"…So this is it?"
He wanted to be surprised. Outraged, even. But deep down, he had known. He'd watched the anime. Seen how Mineta was played off as comic relief. How his Quirk rarely mattered in real fights.
But now?
Now he had to live with it.
With this useless power.
He looked down at his hand. The residue from the Pop-Off ball was still clinging to his palm, slightly tacky.
"…What kind of hero uses this?" he whispered.
His mind flicked back to the epic Quirks others had. Bakugo's explosions. Todoroki's ice and fire. Even Aoyama had a freakin' laser beam.
And him?
He had glue balls. From his head.
He laughed, but it wasn't joyful.
It was the kind of laugh that comes out just before tears do.
He could feel the weight of two lives pressing on his chest. His past self—the ordinary teen from Earth—and this current one, trapped in a body everyone laughed at. Even the original Mineta had been hated. It was like the universe had given him a second chance… with a caveat.
But no tears fell.
Instead, he clenched his jaw, curled his fingers into a fist, and stared hard at the still-stuck ball across the yard.
"It doesn't matter," he said aloud.
He stood up, brushing dirt from his pants.
"I didn't get a second chance at life to mope over something like this."
He flexed his fingers again, feeling the slight soreness in his scalp. "Sticky balls or not… I'll turn this into something."
His thoughts spun fast. Ideas flickering in the back of his mind.
Traps. Restraints. Crowd control. Wall climbing. Slingshots. Maybe even movement mechanics. He remembered how Spider-Man used webs—not for offense at first, but mobility. Maybe he could mimic that with planning.
He envisioned a combat scene. Wires. Sticky traps. Mid-air redirections. He could become like a human slingshot, ricocheting between surfaces, keeping enemies off balance. His Quirk didn't need to be destructive—it could be tactical.
[System Notification]Quirk Engagement Recorded – Pop-OffQuirk Proficiency: +2% Observation Skill: +1% Emotional Response Logged – Frustration, Acceptance
A soft chime echoed in his ears as the translucent window floated before his eyes again.
He blinked.
Then he smiled—just a little.
So the System was tracking his Quirk training too.
Good.
That meant even the smallest effort mattered.
He walked back inside, washed his hands, and finally sat down at the breakfast table. His mom had left a plate for him under a cover—grilled salmon again, rice, and a small note.
"Don't give up. You'll get stronger. Love, Mom."
He swallowed something tight in his throat and smiled.
Later that afternoon, after lunch and a short nap, he pulled out his notebook again.
He labeled the page: Quirk Applications – Brainstorm
Underneath, he scribbled quickly:
Wall climbing?
Use sticky balls as anchors?
Weighted slingshot throws?
Traps + wires combo?
Acrobatics integration?
He underlined the last one.
Acrobatics.
If he could combine athleticism with his sticky balls, he might be able to move like a grappler. A trickster.
Like a rogue.
Not a brawler. Not a tank.
But fast. Slippery. Smart.
The kind of hero that fought cleverly, not just forcefully.
He stood up and did some stretches on the bedroom floor, testing his balance, coordination, and how fast he could shift weight. Nothing fancy—just movement drills. Slides, squats, a few quick rolls.
If this was going to work, he'd need a flexible body. A nimble body.
Mineta closed the notebook, staring at the cover for a moment.
This wasn't the Quirk he wanted.
But it was the Quirk he had.
And he would shape it into something worthy.
He opened the STATS window again before bed.
[STATS SCREEN – END OF DAY 4]
Name: Minoru Mineta
Age: 13
Quirk: Pop-Off
Quirk Proficiency: 5% → 7%
Stats:
Strength: 5
Dexterity: 6
Endurance: 5
Intelligence: 8.5
Charm: 3.5
Willpower: 9
Training Focus (Day 4): • Quirk Activation – Pop-Off stickiness, range test
• Mental Fortitude – Emotional control, reframing disappointment
• Strategic Planning – Brainstorming Quirk applications
• Early Mobility Training – Movement drills for agility
Notifications: • Quirk Proficiency +2% • Emotional Acceptance Logged – Reduced System Stress • Observation +1% – Adaptive Strategy Potential Increased
That night, Mineta didn't train his muscles or his mind.
He just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, heart strangely full.
Not because his Quirk was amazing.
But because he wasn't afraid of it anymore.
Tomorrow, he'd resume his normal training: charm, strength, smarts.
But today?
Today was the day he made peace with who he was—and what he had.
And that… was a win.