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In MHA, I Have A Pirated Version of Gojo's Limitless: 9 The Quirk Examination 2
🕑 Added 2025-06-28 20:47:34 +0000 UTC---
The world compressed into motion. The air warped faintly in my ears. Each step pushed off with the force of a coiled spring, muscles rippling under my skin like a turbine of coiled steel.
I reached the first marker in a blink, pivoted with agility, and returned. My foot clipped the turn like a sprinter trained from birth, and I exploded back down the lane.
My breathing stayed steady. Heartbeat calm.
The run was over in just a few seconds.
---
When I skidded to a halt, wind rustled through my clothes. The room felt too still afterward — like even the air hadn’t caught up with me yet.
Then it did.
“Whoa,” one of the technicians muttered.
Agent Yoshida was already tapping her wristband. Dr. Tanaka scanned the tablet.
“Twenty-one meters per second. That’s around 76 kilometers per hour,” she said, eyes narrowing with a mixture of interest and calculation. “And that was with deliberate pacing.”
“Is that good?” I asked, feigning casual interest as I tugged my shirt back down over my hip.
Dr. Tanaka’s lips twitched. “Very. The average U.A. applicant with a speed-focused Quirk clocks in at about 10 to 14 m/s. You’re already moving above a second-year support fighter with a mobility type.”
Agent Yoshida nodded. “And you’re clearly holding back. I’ve seen footage of students pushing themselves. You didn’t strain at all.”
“I didn’t want to trip and fly through a wall,” I said honestly. That earned me a chuckle from both women.
“Smart,” Yoshida said. “But this result is important. Not because of raw numbers, but because of how they relate to what we were saying earlier — your Quirk factor.”
“Right.” I glanced between them. “We’re testing whether it’s localized or systemic.”
“Exactly,” Dr. Tanaka replied. “People with ‘Arm Quirks’ have great punch strength but poor footwork. Speedsters are fast but can’t lift much. Elemental types can blow holes in mountains but tire after one shot. Your performance in strength and speed tells us something important: your power affects your entire body.”
“Like All Might?” I asked, keeping my voice level. The idea made my chest tighten — equal parts pride and nervousness.
Dr. Tanaka’s expression didn’t change much, but I caught the flicker in her eyes.
“Potentially. Though we’d be careful with comparisons.”
Yoshida grinned. “You’re not a powerhouse yet, but you're the type who could become one. All-around enhancement is extremely rare. And valuable.”
I scratched the back of my neck. “Still feels like I have a long way to go.”
“Good,” Yoshida replied. “That means you’ll keep growing.”
__
Inwardly, I wasn’t just satisfied — I was cautious.
Because even after everything — the tests, the readouts, the praise — I still hadn’t gone all out.
__
Agent Yoshida led me to the far end of the training facility, where a small, square platform was elevated by about a foot off the ground. Above it, a frame of mechanical arms — each ending in foam-capped rods, sensors, or light panels — loomed overhead like the skeleton of a robotic tree.
“Reflex test?” I guessed.
“Smart boy,” she said. “This one’s basic. A twelve-arm trainer, each with randomized attack programming and light-pulse distractions. You’ll stand in the middle. It’ll either strike or flash a decoy light. The goal is to dodge the strikes. Don’t block. Don’t tank. Just evade.”
“How hard does it hit?”
“Enough to leave bruises if you’re sloppy,” she said with a smirk.
Dr. Tanaka tapped on her screen. “And it will scale with your reactions. The better you dodge, the faster it gets.”
I stepped onto the platform and took a steady breath. My instincts flared gently — tension humming under my skin.
“Ready?” Yoshida asked.
I nodded. “Go.”
---
At first, it was simple.
A hiss of air — a padded rod jabbed from my left. I leaned back. Another from behind — I twisted away.
Then it got faster. And faster.
Left. Right. Downward sweep. Overhead jab. A flickering light to my right tried to bait my attention, but I stayed focused on the hiss of compressed air, the shift of shadows, the hum of the servos.
I wasn’t just reacting — I was predicting.
Every sound, every vibration, every breeze on my skin gave me a half-second warning. I let go of conscious thought and just moved.
By the two-minute mark, I was weaving between strikes like I’d been born for it. Each dodge no more than a tilt, a half-step, a breath.
The machine whirred louder. A rod came in from the left — feint. Real one came from below — sidestep. A light pulse followed immediately. I ignored it.
Then silence.
The platform powered down with a faint chime.
---
“...He maxed out the machine.” Dr. Tanaka’s voice held surprise — and something quieter. Fascination.
Agent Yoshida raised a brow, lips curling up. “We don’t even see that from the Pro side evaluations.”
“His sense response time is off the charts. Accelerated perception, rapid limb control, predictive movement — all consistent with heightened somatosensory feedback. His quirk is practically built for combat reaction.”
I stepped off the platform, not even winded. “Was that decent?”
Yoshida gave me a deadpan look. “You dodged 117 strikes in a row without getting hit. At full calibration. You tell me.”
I scratched my head. “Guess I’m glad I didn’t mess up.”
_____
Durability Test
They led me to a reinforced chamber—walls blackened from repeated impact tests. A podium of sorts stood at its center, surrounded by adjustable mechanical arms fitted with various blunt heads: cylinders, paddles, even weighted spheres.
“Let me guess,” I said. “Time to get hit.”
“You’ve got it,” Agent Yoshida said, cracking her knuckles. “We start light. Blunt impacts. We’re gauging structural tolerance — bone density, muscle resistance, skin toughness.”
“Can’t wait,” I muttered.
“Just stand still,” Dr. Tanaka said, tapping away. “Brace if you need to.”
---
The first strike hit my ribs.
It was like a kick from a well-built guy. I grunted slightly. Then another — shoulder, then thigh. Each one escalated in force. After about a dozen hits, I started rolling my neck and shifting side to side — not to avoid them, but because I was getting bored.
The machine switched to a weighted steel sphere. It struck my side with enough force to buckle rebar.
I took a step back, more surprised than hurt.
---
Yoshida raised a brow. “No bruising?”
I patted my side. “Just sore I guess. Like falling hard during sparring.”
“Durability above baseline. Muscular elasticity and tissue density enhanced. Bone integrity reading… wow, 4.3x denser than human average,” Dr. Tanaka muttered. “You’re built like carbon-fiber reinforced steel.”
___
Next Test,
Regenerative Factor.
Next, they took me to a sterile corner — polished metal surfaces, blue lighting, medical bots on standby.
“Hold still,” Dr. Tanaka said, and pricked my forearm with a small needle. Blood beaded out.
She nodded. “Now let’s observe clotting speed.”
---
It took 2 seconds for the bleeding to stop completely.
She hummed. “Impressive. Average clotting rate is 10–15 seconds. Yours is already regenerative-tier. Combine that with your durability, and you might never need a field medic.”
“Still hurts,” I said, rubbing it.
“Pain tolerance seems average. Good. We don’t want you losing your humanity.”
---
Endurance Test
They had me running.
Laps. Laps. Laps.
Every 200 meters, the incline changed. Obstacles rose from the floor. Wind pressure increased.
I ran for 35 straight minutes, never stopping, breathing steady, heart rate just under 130 bpm — which shocked them all.
Eventually, Yoshida called it. “Alright, stop! We get it — you’ve got lungs like a power plant.”
Dr. Tanaka showed me the results: oxygen saturation never dropped below 98%. Lactic acid buildup? Almost negligible.
“You’re a biological engine,” she said. “You’re not even sweating properly.”
---
Tactical Simulation
The final test involved a VR room — full-dive holographics, like a scaled-down battlefield sim. Targets popped up, some civilians, some villains. Timed decision-making, situational awareness, threat prioritization.
I scored 93% accuracy in combat identification, 100% civilian protection, and completed it in half the usual time.
Afterward, Yoshida crossed her arms.
“You process faster than most veteran Pro Heroes. Did you train in combat psychology or something?”
“No,” I said, shrugging. “Just… react, assess, move.”
Dr. Tanaka whispered something to her. I could here the phrase:
“He’s thinking and reacting at the same time. Like a machine.”
___
This was all just for the physical Testing. We hadn't been begun to go into my other abilities in depth.
Honestly, I wandered if these things were even important. Two seconds later, common sense sent the answer flying right back at my face.
Are Durability, Regeneration, Endurance, and Tactical Tests Necessary in a Quirk Evaluation?
Short Answer: Yes.
For hero training and registration, especially if applying to U.A. or a pro agency, the support staff needs to understand the following Traits.
Durability to know if you can tank hits, protect others, or survive field conditions.
Regeneration Healing rate affects mission longevity and medical needs.
Endurance determines how long you can operate under stress, hold enhanced states.
Tactical Thinking Tells them if you're a loose cannon or a strategist. Needed for teamwork and survival.
These aren’t just for fun — they build a full Quirk Profile used by agencies to decide category, placement, and threat rating.
In time, these would all be used to decide My Category placement and parameters. It was pretty good, I think.
There was no score but I aced almost everything they threw at me enough to make them visibly impressed. All while hiding the extent to which I could perform them.
Of course they knew that too.
They just didn't know how much.
___
General POV
[Quirk Summary Profile]
Character Citizen Rei Takumi (Ken Takakura) Quirk profile (So Far)
Attribute Rating
Strength 3.9 tons (burst)
Speed ~76 km/h
Reflex ~100–150ms minimum
Durability 4x normal bone density, high blunt resistance (Tested So Far)
Regeneration accelerated (4x faster clotting Mimimum)
Endurance High — minimal fatigue, sustained sprint
Tactics Exceptional threat prioritization and focus
Quirk Factor System-wide body enhancement/First Phase.
Private Conversation – Evaluators Debrief
Location: Hero Research Center, Observation Deck – Sealed behind privacy-glass while the boy cools off with his mother across the room.
---
Agent Yoshida leaned her weight against the window frame, arms crossed, her gaze following the boy as he laughed quietly with his mother on the benches outside the test zone.
“Three-point-nine tons on strength. Seventy-six kilometers per hour in clean sprint. Sub-second reflexes. And all of it while holding back and before his body’s even matured.” Her voice was low, even, but heavy with subtext.
Dr. Tanaka was still inputting data into her tablet, lenses of her glasses glowing faint blue in the reflection. “He’s not just enhanced. He’s balanced. That’s the part that’s terrifying.”
Yoshida raised an eyebrow. “Terrifying?”
Tanaka tapped the side of her glasses, flipping to a different chart. “Most Quirks boost a single attribute: strength, speed, firepower. Some come with a mutation package — claws, scales, tail. But him? His body is in perfect harmony. Every function supports the others. Like it was designed.”
A pause.
“Designed by what?” Yoshida asked.
Tanaka shrugged. “Fate? Evolution? A miracle? I don’t know. But take this in—he’s showing Pro Hero baseline across seven physical metrics, all while under self-imposed restraint.”
Her gaze turned elsewhere.
“Each factor in just his physical enhancements could be someone else's full time quirk. His speed alone allows him to reach 70+ kilometers with instant acceleration. His full speed is probably much faster. From the balanced metrics, his reaction has to be able to match it. Probably below a 100ms. Not to mention he probably has enhanced sight and hearing as additions. For human terms, he's harder to hit than a fly.”
Yoshida narrowed her eyes. “And not once has he shown strain. His muscle recovery, coordination, perception — it’s all instinctive. Like he didn’t train it. Like he was… born ready.”
They watched him hand a bottle of water to his mother. The boy laughed again — not nervous, just calm. Relaxed.
Tanaka’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“If this is his starting point… in a few years, he could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the top 10 heroes. Maybe higher. Maybe without a Quirk limit ceiling.”
“And if he goes rogue?” Yoshida asked, flat.
Tanaka didn’t answer for a few seconds.
“Then we’ll need more than a few drones and test rooms to stop him.”
“Hehe. Looks that way.” she chuckled, not particularly concerned.
“Once the assessment is done , send the reports to U.A.”
“Seriously?”
“Of course. All Might himself asked for a copy of the boy's assessment reports once it was conducted. Plus, U.A is probably going to be very interested based on just this data. Don't forget we aren't done yet.”
__
My POV
I sat beside my mom on the bench, sipping water. The bottle crinkled in my grip if I wasn’t careful, so I focused on breathing slowly.
She touched my arm gently, her fingers warm. “You’re not hurting anywhere, are you?”
I smiled. “No. Not even sore. They ran me through durability and stamina stuff. I feel better now than before I started.”
She studied my face like she was trying to memorize it.
“I used to worry when you were a baby,” she said. “You were always quiet. Like you were waiting for the world to come to you.”
I laughed softly. “Now I’m chasing it down.”
Her smile faltered just a little. “Just don’t let it chase you back.”
