The doctor's office was plain and quiet.
I sat on the chair opposite the desk while the doctor adjusted his glasses and glanced at the tablet in his hand.
"Name?" he asked.
"Takahashi Ren."
"Age?"
"Five."
He nodded and tapped the screen. "Tell me what your quirk does."
"I can absorb energy," I said. "And use it."
"Use it how?"
"I can strengthen my body," I replied. "And release the energy outside."
The doctor looked up. "Show me."
I stood, focused, and let a small amount of energy move through my arms. I squeezed the test handle until the display rose slightly, then stopped.
"That's enough," he said.
He wrote something down. "Can you release it?"
I extended my hand and let a thin wave of energy push forward. It faded after a short distance.
The doctor nodded again.
"Can you change the energy into something else?"
"Yes," I said. "I can turn it into things like fire."
"Have you done that before?"
"Yes."
He made another note. "Alright."
He guided me through a few more simple checks—short bursts of strength, brief releases, stopping on command. Nothing difficult. Nothing stressful.
After a few minutes, he set the tablet down.
"Energy absorption and manipulation," he said. "That's what we'll register it as."
He stood and opened the door. "You can go now."
I nodded and left the room.
The test was over.
And just like that, my quirk existed on paper—simple, harmless, and incomplete.