A little brown-haired girl walked down the quiet morning street with a bounce in her step, her schoolbag swinging lightly against her side. The sun was still soft and warm, casting long shadows behind her and her friend. At around ten years old, she radiated that innocent brightness only children had.
She was none other than Ochaco Uraraka.
Her laughter carried through the air as she chatted with her friend, her cheeks puffing up with every smile. They walked side by side toward their school, enjoying the calm routine of another day.
Then— A tiny sensation pricked the top of her head.
Ochaco blinked, confused, and reached up to pat her hair. 'Did someone just… pull my hair?' she wondered, her fingers brushing over her brown strands. Nothing seemed wrong. No one was behind her. No breeze had blown past.
Her friend called her name, and Ochaco snapped back into the conversation with a faint laugh, brushing off the strange moment.
But she didn't notice it —a few strands of her hair were floating gently upward, drawn by an invisible force. They drifted toward the shadows of an alleyway...toward the outstretched hand of Arata.
Hidden in the cool shade, Arata watched silently. He wore a metallic white glove, sleek and futuristic, glowing with thin blue lines that pulsed like a heartbeat. The strands of hair landed softly in his palm.
'Perfect,' he thought.
He slid them into a small test tube and tucked it into his bag. Then he lowered his hood, clicked the circular blue line embedded in the center of the glove— and the metal dissolved and folded inward, retracting until only a simple wristband remained on his arm.
Arata shoved both hands into his pockets as he walked calmly toward the bus stand. On the outside, he looked like any other middle school student going through his emo phase. But inside his mind, thoughts of revolution and quirk theory swirled with excitement.
His thoughts drifted to the new device he'd built— the quirk-infused metallic glove, powered by a quirk chip.
The glove held the ability Telekinesis.
'It works better than I expected,' he mused while stepping onto the bus.
Telekinesis allowed Arata to manipulate objects—or people—through the glove alone. It granted him control as long as the object wasn't larger than him. Weight didn't matter. Only size.
'It's like Yanagi's quirk from class 1B,' he thought, 'but hers is limited by weight. Mine isn't. My glove is a little better than her quirk.'
The bus rattled to a stop, shaking him from his thoughts. Arata stepped off and headed toward a narrow alleyway nearby. He scanned the surrounding area carefully—left, right—making sure nobody was watching.
Only then did he take out a pair of glasses.
Click.
The moment his finger pressed the small button near the lens, the frame twisted, shifted, and folded until it formed the sleek shape of the Invisibility Demon Mask.
He pulled on the strings of his hoodie. The fabric shimmered, stretched, and unfolded into a long hooded cloak. Then he tapped his wristband—
and the glove reformed around his hand with a metallic whirr and a faint blue glow.
With one steady breath, he tugged the hood low and pulled on the mask.
His body faded....Then vanished.
Invisible.
Arata walked out of the alleyway in silence, his footfalls light. He headed toward one of his targets: the tall, official-looking building with a sign that read Binder Agency—home of the No. 489 hero: Whiplash, the Binder Hero.
He pointed his gloved hand up toward the roof. Blue energy wrapped around him like mist, and he rose smoothly into the air, levitating until he reached the top.
On the rooftop, his steps were cautious. He found the emergency fire escape ladder and climbed down, unseen and unheard. At the bottom was a barely noticeable back door—an emergency escape exit for civilians working in the agency. Heroes used it only in extreme situations. Villains almost never find them if they ever raid a hero agency.
Arata pulled out what looked like a simple pen.
Click.
A thin blade of glowing energy extended from its tip— a laser knife.
He inserted it into the keyhole, burning through the lock with a faint sizzle. Slowly, carefully, he opened the door and slipped inside.
The agency bustled with workers, phones ringing, papers shuffling, footsteps echoing. Arata moved between them like a ghost, invisible and silent. No one felt the brush of his cloak as he passed.
He searched room after room until—There.
Rock Lock.
The hero intern leaned back in his chair, a phone pressed to his ear, cheeks tinted pink. A goofy smile was plastered on his face.
Arata smirked behind his mask.
'Girlfriend, huh? Figures.'
He raised his gloved hand.
A tug—almost too subtle to notice—
and two, then three hairs lifted from Rock Lock's head. The man reached up and absently rubbed the spot, still too engrossed in his conversation to suspect anything.
Mission complete.
Arata returned to the emergency exit, walked out, and pulled the door shut behind him. He placed the pen back into the keyhole and pressed the button again—
but this time, instead of a blade, a thick liquid oozed out.
Super glue.
It hardened instantly, jamming the lock tight. No one would know the door had ever been opened unless some villain decided to attack the agency.
He calmly walked away, returning to the alley. There, he removed a small tube and placed Rock Lock's hair inside, tucking it next to Ochaco's.
Then he took out his phone.
A live feed appeared—grainy, but clear.
He was looking through the eyes of a mosquito drone hovering near the current location of Space Hero: Thirteen.
She was interning with the Damage Control Hero: Building Man.
Arata crouched low and lifted himself into the air with telekinesis, drifting toward their direction. Once close enough, he dropped onto a rooftop and parkoured the rest of the way, leaping silently from ledge to ledge.
He finally arrived near the agency— but paused.
Thirteen and Building Man were moving toward a villain attack site. Smoke curled upward. Civilians screamed for help.
Arata followed them from above, invisible as always. When he judged the distance between them was large enough, he made his move.
A chunk of debris shivered—
then collapsed, 'accidentally' falling toward Thirteen's helmet.
Crack.
Her faceplate shattered.
Gasps filled the air, but Thirteen reacted immediately, using her quirk Black Hole to suck the debris away. She saved two civilians in quick motion.
Perfect timing.
Arata used telekinesis again, plucking some strands of her hair while her focus remained entirely on the rescue.
He planned to leave right after— but something caught his eye.
A tiny figure. A five-year-old child, frozen in fear.
A massive piece of debris was about to crush him.
Neither Thirteen nor Building Man had noticed.
Arata felt his heart jolt. 'Seriously…?'
Without thinking, he extended his telekinesis glove.
The child lifted off the ground, floating safely away from the falling rubble. Arata guided him gently toward a spot where Building Man would see him.
And the hero did—his eyes widening in shock before he rushed forward to grab the child and pull him to safety.
Only when Arata saw the boy secured did he fly away, carried by the blue glow of his telekinesis.
Behind the mask, his expression twisted—confused, conflicted.
This was new. This feeling.
'When I decided to destroy the government,' he thought slowly, 'I didn't think… I'd ever actually save people like a hero.'
A faint warmth settled in his chest.
He felt… happy, in a strange and unfamiliar way.
He felt like he had done something good.