Arthur was twelve when he first felt it—the sense of danger before it happened.
He was making his way home from Tanaka's gym on a hot summer night, his brain preoccupied with mastering energy wave techniques, when something made him stop. Not a noise. Not a vision. Just. perception. A chill, metallic sense of certainty that if he continued to move ahead one more time, something would go wrong.
Arthur stopped and looked around. The street was okay. People walking by, not paying attention to him. Cars passing. Nothing really out of the ordinary.
Then a car swerved and jumped the curb just where Arthur would've been if he'd continued walking. The driver fought to get it under control, managed to steer back into the flow of traffic, and sped away—no doubt hadn't even realized how close they'd come to hitting somebody.
Arthur looked at the skid marks from the tire on the sidewalk, his heart pounding. That wasn't coincidence. That wasn't random. He'd sensed it. Somehow, impossibly, he'd known before any ordinary perception had been able to warn him.
Over the following weeks, the sensation returned. Small things first—being able to tell when Tanaka was going to throw something in drills, feeling when a friend was about to push him in the hallway, knowing when his mother was upset before she opened her mouth.
It felt like having a sixth sense. Instinct, more than being present in a normal manner.
Arthur recognized it, naturally. In his previous existence, he'd possessed something similar—a warrior's intuition that dwelled on the border of precognition. The ability to feel out enemies, predict attack, perceive danger. It'd been one of his greatest strengths on the field.
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"You're daydreaming," Tanaka observed during their next practice session. "Something troubling you?"
Arthur parried the old man's training sword and wondered how much to reveal. "You ever heard of quirks developing secondary purposes? Not evolution—completely new purposes?"
"Unusual, but it happens. Usually in quirks with multifactored cause." Tanaka pressed the attack, causing Arthur to focus. "Why? Your energy projection doing something new?"
"Not particularly. It's more. extended perception. Seeing things beforehand."
Tanaka's second strike came out of nowhere, faster than his first. Arthur's body moved on instinct, parrying the strike with ease. He hadn't registered the attack consciously—just had a gut feeling about where and how it'd be coming.
The old man lowered his sword, eyes tightening. "Like that?"
"Yes. Just like that."
"Sense of danger," Tanaka answered slowly. "Some heroes are born with it as a native quirk. Others acquire it as a secondary trait of amplified awareness quirks. If your Royal Core is advancing beyond just amplification and projection." He grinned. "You might be developing one of the most valuable fight skills around."
Arthur nodded slowly. That made sense. His quirk wasn't just augmenting his body—it was remaking all of his skills from his past life, tailored to this world's mechanism. The danger sense was his old fighting instinct, honed and coming out through his quirk.
Which meant there was a fascinating question: what other abilities were waiting in the wings?
"Can you control it?" Tanaka asked. "Or is it passive?"
Arthur focused inward, trying to sense that instinctive awareness. It was there, a constant presence now that he could acknowledge it. A low-grade background feeling for his surroundings, the motives of the people around him, possible threats.
"It's always running," Arthur said. "But I believe I can refine it if I concentrate. Sharpen it into finer focus."
"Good. Then we're teaching you something new for your training." Tanaka grinned, an expression that usually signified Arthur was going to be in for an extremely tough time. "Blind fighting. If you can sense attacks but can't see them, you need to learn to trust that instinct completely. Your eyes deceive you. Your intuition won't."
What followed was three months of the most frustrating training Arthur ever had. Blind combat fighting involved unlearning decades worth of visual combat reaction and trusting completely in his sense of danger. The early weeks were brutal—took him and knocked him around continuously, his reflex not yet developed enough to provide accurate data on attack vector and timing.
But gradually, slowly, the feeling got better. Arthur could start to differentiate between different types of danger. A practice sword was not like a thrown object. Tanaka's assault was not like a gym member. The intensity of the feeling correlated with the intensity of the threat.
At his twelfth birthday, Arthur was able to spar blindfolded against two opponents at once and keep up. His danger sense had developed from a loose system of warning into a sharp fighting tool that gave him an incredible advantage in any battle.
"You're developing into something unique," Tanaka said after one particularly masterful performance. "Most heroes establish a strong reliance on their quirks' primary function. You're developing an integrated combat system—physical ability, weapon skill, energy projection, and now heightened awareness. That kind of adaptability is what separates good heroes from great ones."
Arthur liked the adoration but kept a watch on the larger picture. His sense of danger was only a part. If his quirk actually recreated all his past abilities, there would be others. He just needed to figure out how to tap into them.
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The school year, nevertheless, brought additional challenges other than training. Arthur was in his final year of elementary school, preparing for middle school transition. The majority of his friends were excited, talking about where they would attend school, whether or not they would take hero courses or regular education.
Arthur had already mapped out his path. U.A. High School. The greatest hero school in Japan. That was the life. But U.A.'s entrance exam was legendary, and he'd have to wait three more years of middle school before he could even take it.
Three years to master his skills. To discover more of the potential of his quirk. To build the foundation that would enable him to stand out at U.A. and beyond.
But to get through all that first, he had to pass middle school entrance exams.
"You're applying to Chiben Gakkun Middle School?" his mom questioned one evening, going over his application papers. "That's. ambitious, Arthur-kun. That's one of the top schools in the district."
"It's got a good hero preparatory system," Arthur explained. "Better gear, better teachers, more money for quirk training. If I'm going to make it into U.A., I need the best education I can find."
Akari sighed. "Sometimes I forget you're only twelve. You think like someone much older."
If only you knew, Arthur thought but did not speak. Instead, he smiled. "I just know what I want, Mama. And I'm willing to work for it."
The entrance exam at Chiben Gakkun Middle School was easy enough—written exam, quirk display, interview. Arthur breezed through with aplomb, his intelligence matched by his unusual quirk development leaving the examiners agog. Two months later, when acceptance letter arrived, his parents took him out for a meal at his favorite restaurant.
"To our son," Takeshi said, lifting his cup. "Who never ceases to amaze us."
Arthur clinked glasses with his parents and felt a warmth that had nothing to do with his quirk. These moments—simple, domestic, human—were becoming increasingly precious to him. They reminded him why he was pushing so hard, what he was fighting to protect.
Power was important. But so was this. Family. Connection. Love.
He had forgotten that in his previous life, amidst the chill and desperation to be the perfect king. This time would be different.
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Summer vacation before middle school gave Arthur the opportunity to focus exclusively on training. Tanaka had begun teaching him advanced sword moves—combinations, feints, counter-attacks involving intricate timing and body coordination.
"Hmm, your sense of danger is good," the old master taught one class, "but it is not perfect. A skilled opponent can hide their intention, feign attacks, confuse you as to what your instincts tell you. You need to have techniques that work even when your sense of danger is being fooled."
They practiced deception fighting—situations where Tanaka deliberately muddied Arthur's instincts with misdirection and feints. It was disorienting, fighting a foe who knew how to deploy his greatest asset against him. But it taught Arthur not to depend on any one gift.
Versatility. Adaptability. The ability to win even when his competitor had outguessed him. These were Tanaka's teachings.
When one sparring session specifically got rough, something unusual happened. Arthur was getting thrashed—Tanaka had him on the ropes, blows coming too fast to block. His perception of danger was wailing from every direction. He required more power, more speed, something to turn the tide.
And his quirk complied.
Golden power erupted from Arthur's body in uncontrollable forms but as pure brute strength that enveloped his whole body. His second step was lightning-quick—quickest he had ever moved. Practice sword in hand shook with velocity as he counterattacked and forced Tanaka to backpedal.
The energy dissipated as quickly as it had come, leaving Arthur gasping. But the old man was watching him with wide eyes.
"What was that?"
Arthur looked down at his hands, still tingling from aftershocks of energy. "I don't know. It was like. my quirk kicked in. Accidentally gave me a burst of speed and power."
Interesting Tanaka repeated softly, then shook his head "Show me your energy blade."
Arthur drew his right-hand blade. The golden sword appeared fine, stable and in check.
"Now cover your whole body in the same energy. Not drawing out a blade—just leveling yourself up like you did."
Arthur tried to do that. Forced his quirk to course over his body rather than funneling into blade form. For a moment, nothing happened. Then—
Golden radiance flashed across his skin, from head to foot. Arthur felt power course through his muscles, felt his consciousness accelerate, feel as though he could move at impossible speeds. It was done in just seconds before the drain got to him and he had to release it.
Those seconds, however, had been incredible.
"That's your real power," Tanaka breathed. "Not just making blades. Full-body power more than you normally possess. If you can get past that, manage it, sustain it." He whistled softly. "You'll be invincible."
Arthur understood immediately. This was yet another one of his old powers—Mana Burst, the technique of infusing his body with magical energy for devastatingly strong attacks. His quirk was remaking it, giving him access to that very same devastating boost.
But unlike with his previous existence, where Mana Burst had been all but a reflex, here it was wild. Uncontrolled. He could unleash it for short durations, but sustaining it or using it precisely would require much practice.
Another piece of his old strength, waiting to be reclaimed.
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The rest of summer was spent learning to control the full-body boost. Arthur discovered that it was essentially extraterrestrial in contrast to his normal quirk usage. His usual boost was steady, continuous, cost-effective. This new technique was explosive,
transitory, stressful.
It was jogging steadily versus running at top speed. Both good things, but to be used for different purposes.
Tanaka instructed him how to use each. Constant boosting to survive battle for minutes or even hours. The burst technique for do-or-die moments—rebounding an oncoming blow, putting down an opponent, establishing a speed edge over enemies who could not keep up.
"Think of it as your wild card," Tanaka advised. "Something you don't use until you absolutely must. The surprise value alone will win you."
Arthur practiced the timing, the trigger, the alternating between normal and burst modes. It was backbreaking work that depleted his quirk reservoir faster than anything else he'd attempted. But slowly, he got the hang of it.
At the end of summer, Arthur could maintain the ten-second full-body burst. Could trigger it voluntarily when needed. Could use it three times in quick succession before burning out.
It was not mastery, by any stretch. But it was enough to be hazardous.
Middle school started in early September. Chiben Gakkun was larger than Arthur's elementary school, with nicer facilities and a more serious atmosphere. Students here were studious-minded, determined to work hard, many already thinking ahead to hero school applications three years from now.
Arthur fit right in. He was no longer the unusually mature kid who stood out too much. Here, seriousness and commitment were standard. Expected, even.
His homeroom teacher, Nakamura-sensei, was a retired pro hero herself who'd retired after being injured. She glanced over Arthur's file—the results of his quirk test, the reports on his training, the input from elementary school—and smiled.
"Himura Arthur. I've heard great things about you. Let's see if you're as fantastic as everyone claims."
The first quirk test was that afternoon. Every first-year had to demonstrate what they could do so that teachers could make proper training courses. Arthur watched his classmates first—a combination of quirks, some incredible, the rest run-of-the-mill. Extra strength, minute control over elements, physical mutations.
And then came his turn.
Arthur entered the center of the gym and activated Royal Core. Golden energy enveloped his body, blades of energy materializing in each hand. He performed basic maneuvers—slashes, thrusts, shapes for defense. Then he deactivated the blades and introduced his
energy wave projection, holding it on tight rein so as not to obliterate the gym.
Last of all, for only three seconds, he activated the full-body burst. Gold energy flared across his entire form, and Arthur burst forth—a burst of speed that sped the length of the gym in the blink of an eye.
When he stopped, the entire class was staring. Nakamura-sensei's smile had grown even wider.
"Well," she said. "That certainly lives up to the legend. Tell me, Himura-kun, what is your dream?"
"U.A. High School," Arthur said confidently. "Hero course."
"Having skills like that, you'll have no trouble with the entrance exam. But don't become too relaxed. U.A. doesn't just test strength—they test character, judgment, heroism. You have three years to develop all of those."
"I see, sensei."
"Good. Then let's make sure those three years aren't wasted.
Middle school was a different kind of challenge than elementary. The academics were harder, the quirk training more institutionalized, the expectations higher. Arthur plunged into it with his typical gravitas, balancing schoolwork, Tanaka's training, and his own personal improvement goals.
But he also, for the first time since his reincarnation, enjoyed something that might be described as a social life.
It started when a classmate—Tanaka Yuki, with no relation to his teacher—approached him one day after quirk training.
"Your energy blades are incredible," she said. Yuki's quirk was to manipulate shadows, creating structures out of darkness. "Would you spar with me sometime? I need to practice against different styles."
Arthur considered it. Sparring with a person his age, with a mysterious quirk, would be beneficial practice. "Okay. When?"
"After school tomorrow?"
They had fought in one of the school's training rooms. Yuki had been good—inventive with her shadow constructs, defending and attacking with them. But Arthur's danger sense enabled him to see her attacks coming, and his better physical conditioning gave him the edge. The battle was over with Arthur's sword pressed against her throat (firmly held, of course).
"You're way better than I thought," Yuki said. "How long have you been training?"
"Since I was four."
"What? That's. extreme. No wonder you're so great."
The news of the sparring session caught on. Other students came up to Arthur, fascinated by his abilities, asking for training advice, wanting to spar. Arthur found himself becoming a sort of junior celebrity among the first-year students—the student with the showy quirk and strange seriousness.
It seemed strange. Arthur had always been isolated in his other life, his kingship, his destiny, his power. Here, he was isolated on the basis of his talents, but still, students approached him as one of their own. Treated him like one of them, but better achieved.
He wasn't quite sure that he enjoyed the attention. But he allowed it to occur, sparring with classmates, offering advice, slowly creating connections.
"You're making friends," he heard his mother say one evening, her voice full of cheer. "I was worried you'd be so focused on training you'd isolate yourself."
"They're. convenient," Arthur said tactfully. "Training partners. People who understand what it takes to be a hero."
"They're friends, Arthur. It's okay to admit it."
Friends. The word had been a stranger's. In Camelot, he'd had counselors, knights, subjects. As a child this life, he'd had kin. But friends—equals who knew him and tolerated him for himself, not for what he was as an institution—that was something else.
And perhaps, Arthur admitted to himself, not entirely disagreeable.
Winter brought Arthur's thirteenth birthday and another milestone in his development. He was now able to power his energy blades indefinitely with minimal draining impact. His sense of danger was second nature, something he no longer had to think about. The full-body burst could now be sustained for twenty seconds and used five times in succession.
And most importantly, Arthur had begun experimenting with combining powers.
This realization came during a closed practice session at Tanaka's gym. Arthur drew forth his twin blades and fueled the full-body burst simultaneously. The blades, already powerful, then stormed with increased vigor—the golden luster nearly whitened, the energy crackling with increased strength.
As Arthur swung, the wave of energy he released was three times what he normally projected and sped faster, striking harder. It cut a great gouge in the heavily reinforced training dummy that had withstood months of his barrage.
Synergistic application of multiple techniques. Merging multiple facets of his quirk together to enhance their potency.
Arthur kept pushing it. Danger sense and burst enhancement allowed him to react faster than is physically possible. Energy blade and wave projection enabled him to attack at multiple ranges at the same time. Full enhancement and pinpoint accuracy permitted single destructive blows.
This was how he'd fought in his previous life—not relying on any one ability, but combining them into a cacophonous style of fighting. His quirk was giving him the tools. He just had to figure out how to utilize them together.
Tanaka saw the difference immediately. "You're not training individual techniques anymore. You're developing an actual fighting style. Seamless, adaptable, with something for every situation. That's the distinction between a strong quirk user and an actual fighter."
"I had a good teacher," Arthur said sincerely.
The old man smiled. "You had the determination and the talent. I simply demonstrated the path. But Arthur, I have something to tell you."
The seriousness of the moment focused Arthur. "What is it?"
"I've done everything I can teach you in the way of sword fighting and overall combat. Oh, sure, we can keep refining, keep practicing. But the fundamentals? You've got that memorized. What you're missing now isn't additional training—it's experience. Live combat situations. Problems I simply cannot provide for you in a gym."
Arthur understood. He'd pushed as far as he could go on training. Any additional progress would have to be derived from competing against real opponents, real dangers, real pro-level hero work.
"I'm not ready for pro work," Arthur said. "Not legally."
"No. But in two and a half years, you'll be fifteen. Old enough for U.A.'s entrance exam. And if you are admitted." Tanaka's face became contemplative. "U.A. will provide you with everything. The top instructors, state-of-the-art facilities, genuine battle experience through internships and field training. That's where you'll become a truly proficient fighter, a true hero."
"Then that's my goal. Admitance to U.A."
"You'll be hired. With your ability, they'd be fools not to employ you. But Arthur, I want you to promise me one thing."
"Anything."
"Don't lose sight of why you're doing this. It's not because you're the most powerful or the greatest. It's for protecting people. Rescuing them. Being the hero they need. Power's just the tool. Don't lose sight of the mission."
Arthur gazed into his teacher's eyes and perceived genuine concern there. Tanaka had glimpsed something Arthur himself was attempting not to see—his increasing obsession with strength, with growth, with being strong enough never to fail once more.
But Tanaka was right. Power without purpose was mere destruction. He'd already discovered that once, paid for it in Camelot's downfall.
"I won't forget," Arthur promised. "I'll be strong enough to protect everyone. But I'll remember they're what matter, not the strength."
Tanaka nodded in agreement. "Good. Now drop and give me five hundred. Just because you've got the fundamentals down pat doesn't mean you can slack off on conditioning."
Arthur grumbled but complied. Some habits were too ingrained.
The remainder of Arthur's freshman year at middle school flew by in a flash. His schoolwork was top-notch, his development of quirks remarkable, his peer reputation good. Teachers admired his commitment. Pals were in awe of his skills. His folks were proud.
And amidst it all, Arthur kept pushing himself, honing his methods, investigating his quirk's potential.
By summer break, Arthur had achieved something amazing: smooth integration of his abilities. His danger sense, energy manipulation, physical enhancement, and burst technique all worked in harmony together. He could switch between them mid-battle, adjusting his approach to fit whatever the situation was.
He still had his weaknesses. The burst method drained him when overused. His danger sense could be tricked by properly skilled foes. His releases of energy depleted his quirk reservoir faster than mere straight boost.
In those weaknesses, though, Arthur was wrecking-ball effective. More importantly, he was aware of those weaknesses and the way to make up for them.
Standing in Tanaka's gym on the last day of school, Arthur gazed back upon how far he'd come. From a four-year-old boy with some mysterious abnormality to a thirteen-year-old war expert with several awakened abilities. From weakness to actual power.
Two and a half years until U.A.'s entrance exam. Two and a half years to refine everything he'd mastered, to challenge himself even more, to prepare himself for the challenges ahead.
And then what? Three years at U.A., training under Japan's hero instructors, fighting actual villains, performing actual hero work. Growing from student to pro. From strong to amazing.
The path was clear. The end was certain. The only thing left was to walk it.
Arthur unleashed twin blades of his own making, bathing the gym in golden light. Those swords, the product of his own will and effort, represented just how far he'd come. They were no longer clumsy projection but graceful tools, immaculately mastered, horribly deadly.
But they were not Excalibur yet. Not the true sword of light that once sliced through armies and changed battlefields. That sword, that final symbol of his strength, was still being forged. Still waiting for him to become strong enough to use it as it should be used.
Soon, Arthur thought. The skills are falling into place. The power is building.
And when it came together at last—when all his old strength had been transferred into this world, when his body had been made strong enough to house his full potential, when the time demanded all he could do—
Arthur would be prepared.
The sword was being forged. Day by day, skill by skill, power by power.
And when it was complete, that sword would cut through any shadow this world could produce.
Two and a half years. Two and a half years alone before U.A.
Arthur smiled and began training. He had a lot to do.
To be continued.