In a world where 80% of the population is born with a superpower, being "normal" is a disability. For Kenji, the realization didn't come with a bang, but with a clinical, soul-crushing silence.
At age four, while other kids were sneezing fire or floating their cereal bowls, Kenji sat in a sterile doctor's office. The X-ray on the lightboard showed a double joint in his pinky toe—the biological "off" switch for the superhuman race.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Sato," the doctor had said, his voice dripping with practiced, hollow sympathy. "Kenji is Quirkless. He should focus on a realistic career. Maybe accounting? The world always needs accountants."
For the next decade, Kenji lived in the shadow of that diagnosis. At school, he was the "Ghost." He wasn't bullied with the explosive intensity of a Midoriya; he was simply ignored. He was a background character in everyone else's shonen jump fantasy. To cope, he retreated into the only place where he could be a hero: the "Legacy Media" collection of his grandfather, Takumi.
Takumi was a strange man, even by hero-society standards. While the rest of the world looked toward the future of Quirks, Takumi looked backward. He was a Digital Archaeologist. His quirk, Source Code Reconstruction, allowed him to touch ancient, corrupted hard drives and "feel" the missing data, stitching fragmented code back together with his mind.
"Kenji," the old man would wheeze, his eyes glowing a faint, binary blue, "the heroes of today rely on their DNA. But the heroes of the past? They were built on logic, courage, and input. Don't ever let them tell you that you're empty. You're just waiting for the right software."