By age thirteen, Kaito Arisaka had mastered the art of being a background character. He had fully embraced his fate as a "Dud," and with the pragmatism of a man who had already lived one life, he turned his focus toward the only thing that actually mattered: being useful enough that nobody asked him about his Quirk.
His transformation was total. The red sheet cape had been incinerated in the shop's furnace years ago. The notebooks filled with "Secret Techniques" were gone, replaced by a grease-stained ledger of neighborhood infrastructure.
Kaito no longer scanned the horizon for a "System" notification; he scanned the ground for loose screws, flickering streetlights, and rusted pipes.
"If I'm a side character, fine," Kaito thought as he walked down the street, the weight of a heavy metal toolbox pulling at his shoulder. "But I'm going to be the most efficient side character this district has ever seen. The kind of guy who doesn't need a flashback to get the job done."
He approached Mrs. Sato's house. The gate was hanging at a miserable angle, and the neighborhood rumor mill said a raccoon had basically declared eminent domain over her porch.
"Kaito-kun! Oh, thank goodness," Mrs. Sato called out, looking genuinely relieved. "The gate is screaming every time the wind blows, and that raccoon hissed again at the mailman again. He's terrified."
"I'll take care of it, Mrs. Sato," Kaito said. He didn't waste energy on a "heroic" smile. He just set his toolbox down with a heavy clunk and got to work.
He didn't just oil the gate. He disassembled the hinges, filed down the burrs with a metal rasp, and realigned the post until the gate swung shut with a silent, satisfying click.
He didn't feel a "Level Up," but the sheer mechanical perfection of the repair gave him more satisfaction than any imaginary stat boost ever had.
Then came the same raccoon. Kaito crawled under the porch with a flashlight. Most kids his age would have tried to use a flash of light or a blast of air to scare it.
Kaito just stared the animal down. It wasn't a "Conqueror's Haki" it was the flat, unimpressed look of a guy who had spent four hours inventorying hexagonal nuts and had zero patience left for wildlife.
Ten minutes later, he emerged, holding the raccoon by the scruff. The animal looked less "defeated" and more "confused" by the lack of drama. After all the human who always catches him didn't make something weird this time.
"Go bother someone with a Quirk" Kaito thought, walking the creature toward the park.
He didn't notice the neighbors watching him from their windows.
To Kaito, this was just mundane maintenance. To them, he was becoming a neighborhood legend the "Good Kid Kaito" who could fix anything and feared nothing, all without a single glow or spark of power.
"You're doing it again, Kaito," a voice called out.
It was Kenji, a kid from his class whose fingers could turn into fountain pens. He was currently using his Quirk to doodle "cool" designs on a brick wall.
"Doing what?" Kaito asked, wiping a smudge of grease off his cheek.
"The vibe. You look like you're starring in a movie about a guy who hates his life but is weirdly good at it," Kenji laughed. "Why do you work so hard? You can't even use your quirk. Why not just relax and have fun? Come play with us, you can be the hero"
Kaito looked at the grease on his hands, then at Kenji's ink-stained fingers.
"Someone has to make sure the gates don't squeak, Kenji," Kaito said, his voice dry. "While you're busy being a 'protagonist,' the rest of us have to live in the real world. That's just how it is."
He walked away before Kenji could respond. He liked the quiet. He liked the weight of the tools. He had accidentally discovered that by trying to be a "nobody," he had become the most reliable person in a three-block radius.
At lunch, he sat in the back of the shop, eating a simple rice ball while checking the inventory. Grandma Saki walked over, leaning against a shelf of power drills.
"The ledger is looking good, Kaito. People are calling the shop specifically to ask for you. They say the 'polite boy' actually fixes things instead of just showing off."
"It's just work, Grandma," Kaito said, his mouth full of rice. "If I don't fix the sinks, the shop loses money. It's basic math."
"It's trust, Kaito," Saki said softly, patting his arm. "In a world where everyone wants to be the biggest and the loudest, you're the one people can actually count on. Don't underestimate how much that's worth."
Kaito just shrugged. He just knew a list of tasks that needed to be finished before the sun went down.
'I'm just the background character,' he thought. 'The guy you see for three seconds in a certain scene, carrying a wrench. And I'm perfectly fine with that.'
He stood up and grabbed his toolbox. There was a leaky pipe at the elderly home. Another "quest" that didn't involve saving the world, but would keep someone's floor dry.
As he walked, he passed a TV shop. The screens were filled with the image of a young, golden-haired hero with a massive smile, lifting a bus over his head. All Might. The people was screaming his name.
Kaito didn't stop. He didn't even look twice.
"Good for him," Kaito mumbled, shifting the heavy toolbox to his other hand. "I hope he never has a plumbing emergency. With arms that big, he'd probably rip the faucet right out of the wall."
He turned the corner, a thirteen-year-old boy disappearing into the mundane gray of the city, completely unaware that the belief and trust he was ignoring was fueling a power he had yet to discover.