Prologue
Hero. An individual of exceptional power and outstanding ideals, who protected others. A hero could be anyone, or anything. Perhaps literally. After all, in this world, being a hero was a paid profession. There were countless people who thus walked around carrying that tag on their shoulders, each of them representing it in their own unique way. Some stood for peace and justice, and the welfare of all humanity. Others fought for personal glory, though the results they achieved were every bit as beneficial to the public. And there were still others who only cared about their own gain, simply using the title of "hero" as a means to achieve the money, fame and pleasures that came with it.
There were all kinds of people in the world, and all kinds of heroes.
But this story is about one particular person. And this is how his journey began.
It was another day in City Z's Musutafu district. The same sunny weather. The same morning rush. The same classes and daily interactions, the same people going to work. If we were to travel around the city, and come to a certain middle school, and visit their senior class, we'd find the room in quite a state of excitement. This was due to the fact that a blond boy with a questionable temperament had made a declaration that he planned to be a pro hero, and another boy, this one with green, seaweed-like hair, had said that he wished to be one too. The two statements were met with rather varying reactions, as the class demonstrated humanity's peculiar tendency to derive enjoyment through picking on their kind. If one were to stick around a little longer, and follow the seaweed-haired kid, one would, shortly afterwards, find him encountering one All-Might, the Number Two pro hero in the world, and the boy's idol, who would inform him that he should probably give up on being a hero. A little later, one would find the boy in a rather messy situation involving him, a backpack, the blond boy who liked bullying him, and some weird sludge monster. Oh, and after that, a change of heart from All-Might, who would decide to make the boy the heir to his legacy.
But that is not what we're here for, and none of those people are the one we're looking for.
No, in order to find him, we must travel to yet another, equally non-descript middle school, also located in Musutafu, City Z.
The person we are after happened to be a final year student at said school, and was currently on his way back home after a long, boring day of classes. He was of average height and had a lean build. Short black hair crowned his head, and his features were sharp. As he walked, he examined a sheet of paper he was holding in one hand. The bold font at the top of it read "Career Survey". As a senior, who would soon be taking his final exams and graduating into high school, he was given this form, just like everyone else in his year, so that he could fill out his preferred career choices, and be counselled accordingly and assisted in choosing a high school and course.
He looked over the form with a disappointed expression on his face, sighing as he folded it up and tucked it in his pocket.
"There's not a single thing in there I want to be," he mused aloud. "Doctor? Engineer? Heck, I'm barely passing sciences as it is."
This was, in a way, true. His scores in math and science subjects were average. Not quite as bottom-of-the-barrel as he was making them sound, but nowhere near the top either. This wasn't because he was stupid. Far from it. It was just, he had never felt much interest in most of the things taught at school. From a young age, he had been told he should pay attention and absorb it all, since he'd need it later on in order to get a job and make a living. Which is exactly where he had a problem with all of it. What was the point of going to all that effort just to hold a job he didn't have the least inclination of devoting himself to? It wasn't like he was looking down on doctors, engineers, salaried workers and others, but he just knew that wasn't the life he wanted for himself.
He looked up at the sky, and sighed softly.
"Man, look at me, all full of myself. I'm probably getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Gotta pay the bills, one way or another."
It was a slightly cynically outlook for a middle schooler, but being the son of a corporate employee had given him a bit too much insight into adult life. Suffice it to say, he didn't like what he saw. It was all bills and rent and taxes.
He sighed once more.
Couldn't there be something more exciting?
"Hah! Like what?" he asked himself. "A pro hero?"
He laughed slightly. Yes, that did seem like an exciting life.
But it wasn't really one that was possible for him.
The key to being a hero, as he had been told, time and time again, was having a strong Quirk.
Quirk: A unique genetic trait caused by a mutation. Some humans possessed it, others didn't. The unique trait could be anything, but it often took the form of abilities beyond what was otherwise possible. Basically, superpowers.
In this day and age, more and more people were being born with Quirks, since it seemed the gene responsible for it was dominant.
However, every now and then, a rare individual was born, who didn't have a Quirk at all.
Like him.
It was laughable to think about.
Way back when, as a kid, he'd been taken to see the doctor. There weren't any needles or swabs or anything like that involved. The old man had simply taken a look at his feet, and asked him to wiggle his toes. And upon seeing the boy do so, he'd said, "Yep. You're Quirkless."
Simple, and to the point. It turned out, people with Quirks didn't have the ability to move their pinky toes or something. Talk about an unfair genetic trade-off.
Anyway, that had pretty much dashed any fantasies he had had as a child of being a hero.
"Oh well. No use crying over it."
He was nothing if not resilient, and over time, he'd learned to get along fine as he was.
Life went on, and so did he.
As he walked, he spotted a vending machine. Perhaps a canned coffee would help get rid of the mild disappointment he was feeling. As he made his way over to the machine, he thought he heard something.
Is that… a jackhammer?It did indeed sound like something incredibly hard and heavy crashing into the concrete. The sounds continued to come, getting closer and closer. Turning, the boy saw the source. From around the corner, a creature appeared.
Standing almost twice as tall as an average human being, its upper body was that of a humanoid crab. Its torso was covered by a shell, and its arms looked like gigantic pincers. Even its head was that of a crab, with its two eyes protruding on stalks. Strangely, his bottom half from the middle of the abdominals down looked human, and for whatever reason, he was clothed only in white briefs.
The boy watched the monster approach, with no sign of emotion on his face.
All he felt was a mild curiosity.
This thing was probably one of those so-called Mysterious Beings. Not all of them existed due to Quirks, though. It was theorized that many of these were an entirely different species from humans altogether. In general, they were classified as extremely dangerous, and only the top heroes faced them. The average public was advised to run and inform the authorities if they saw one.
The boy, however, neither ran nor made any attempt to reach for the cell phone in his pocket. He simply watched as the creature came closer and closer towards him. Lately, life had become a chore. Every day felt the same: the same routine. The same things he was told to do, that he had no interest in. And all for the sake of the same goals, that he didn't want.
Honestly, this encounter with the monster was a blessing.
It was at least a brief respite from the mind-numbing repetitive monotony of every day.
Better yet, perhaps it would kill him, and spare him the trouble of growing up to be a mindless adult that existed only as some kind of robot for the corporate machine.
And so it was, that when the monster looked at the boy, he saw a pair of eyes that looked as dead as his own.
"Human. I was going to kill you, but today is your lucky day. Your eyes remind me of myself, so I'll let you live."
"Awfully kind of you," the boy replied nonchalantly. "Who are you?"
He'd heard that this question always triggered villains into monologuing, and he wanted to see if that was true.
"I am Crablante!" said the creature, raising its claws high, as though flexing. "I ate too much crab, and I woke up, turned into this! Now, I am an existence that surpasses you lousy humans."
That… is the shittiest origin story I've ever heard, the boy thought. But it was brief and to the point, and he very much appreciated that.
"I see. Well, don't let me keep you."
So saying, he was about to walk away, when the monster spoke again.
"Wait! I'm looking for someone. An ugly, big-chinned brat. Have you seen him?"
The teenager shook his head.
"Nope."
"Damn it! I'll just have to continue searching then."
"Uh… why are you looking for this kid exactly?"
"Because he drew nipples on my shell! With permanent marker! Permanent! I can't even wash it off, because I don't have hands!"
Crablante furiously snapped his pincers a few times before stomping away.
The boy watched him leave.
What a weirdo.
He reached the machine and bought a canned coffee. Opening, he took a sip before continuing on his way. As he turned the corner, he saw a public park up ahead. And in it, playing with a football, was a kid with a chin that literally looked like a pair of… well, you get the gist.
Wow, that Crab guy wasn't kidding. That's one ugly brat.
"Hey, kid," he shouted out. "You didn't happen to meet a crab monster earlier, did you?"
The child turned around and answered.
"Yeah, I saw him sleeping on a bench in a park, so I drew on him."
I see.
He stood there for a while, drinking his coffee, and thinking.
He had a choice to make here.
It's really none of my business. But I mean, I should at least tell him to run, right? This kid's in real trouble.
Although he had been indifferent to dying a moment back, now that he actually had his life still intact, he felt, understandably, a little reluctant to just throw it away.
Especially for some rude kid who went drawing on people trying to get some sleep.
It was at this precise moment that thudding footsteps announced the arrival of Crablante.
"Found you," he growled.
The next second, before he knew what he was doing, the teen had dropped his bag and his coffee, and dived forward. Just barely, he managed to grab the kid and roll out of the way, avoiding a pincer-blow that shattered the concrete as though it was made of china.
In the moment his shoulder hit the ground and he went with the momentum to come up on his feet, the boy's mind was racing.
Why the hell am I doing this? Didn't I just say it's none of my business? Aren't those Quirk-wielders supposed to take care of shit like this? I don't know! My body… it just moved by itself.
"Run!" he shouted.
The kid didn't need to be told twice, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him, only looking back once.
Not that his saviour noticed.
His entire attention was focused on a now very-pissed Crablante.
"Why save such an annoying brat? Why throw your life away, though I let you keep it? You think it'll win you gratitude? Is that it? Or are you one of those heroes? I already beat a bunch of you, and you'll be no different if you get in my way."
The grimace on the boy's face didn't go unnoticed by the monster.
"Wait, hold on. If you had a Quirk, you would have shown it by now. The fact that you haven't must mean…"
The twisted smile spread on Crablante's inhuman face.
"You're Quirkless. That's it, isn't it? Hahahahah, I see. Your life is just a joke, isn't it? Either that, or you've lost your mind. To face me, without a Quirk? You've watched one too many superhero shows, kid."
Shut up. You think I don't know this is crazy?The boy glared as the creature in front of him continued to laugh.
You think I wanted to be in this situation? Isn't this what heroes are for? Where the hell are they, then? Because I don't see any.
The monster, who had had his share of laughter, stepped forward, moving faster than someone his size should be able to. With a backhanded blow, he sent the teen flying.
The boy landed heavily. Stars blinked in front of his eyes, and pain flared in his head. He felt something cold trickle down his face, and realized it must be his own blood.
The feeling finally made it sink in.
This was happening. It was real.
He could die here.
He placed a hand upon his own chest, and felt his heart hammering inside, like it hadn't in who knew how long.
I'm… alive.
The daily indifference, the numbness, it faded away.
There was no point to slaving day in and day out for an existence he didn't care about.
Especially when it could be snuffed out so easily, so quickly.
Salaryman? Exams?
No.
This was what he wanted.
A long dead dream within him, buried under layers of apathy, awakened.
"I remember now," he said, as he got to his feet.
"The hell are you mumbling?" Crablante said. "Lost your mind with fear?"
The boy rose to his full height. He had pulled off the necktie that was part of his school uniform.
"I remember now. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a hero who could beat chumps like you with a single punch."
"DIE!"
Roaring that word aloud, Crablante charged in.
But the teenager's fear had disappeared.
In the do-or-die situation, he was stone cold calm, and could see that the monster's blow would be a downwards punch. He knew there was probably no way he could do any damage to that hard shell. But the thing did have a glaring weakness.
Two of them.
Right on top of his head.
As the pincer came down, he jumped, avoiding the blow. Running up the limb, he reached the monster's shoulder, and encircled the two eye-stalks with his necktie.
"Screw having a Quirk. We're doing this my way."
In one swift motion, he pulled, tightening the noose, and jumped off.
The combined force of his body weight and strength ripped the vulnerable organ free of the head.
A fountain of gore erupted, and Crablante fell to the ground, dead.
The boy stood panting. Tired, and hurt, but undeniably victorious.
He had found his answer.
Found the thing that made him feel alive.
He clenched his fist, and raised it high.
"I can be a hero."
And so began the story of a boy named Saitama.
He was not fated to become a hero.
He was not chosen to become a hero.
And that wasn't going to stop him.