More waiting.
After a while, Homura noticed something. Periodically, a nurse would enter the room to check on her. The first couple of times, Homura barely acknowledged it, too busy being quietly miserable, wrestling with boredom and the creeping edge of an existential crisis.
But now that the storm of her thoughts had dulled to a low murmur in the back of her mind, especially after her realisation on what to do now, free from the shackles that was her ability.
She realised something else.
She could probably ask.
Maybe they had something to do. Maybe a book. Anything.
The next time the door creaked open, a nurse stepping in with her usual polite expression, Homura cleared her throat.
"Um," she started, voice a little stiff from disuse, "do you have any books here? Or… something to read?"
The nurse blinked, surprised. Then her face softened into a smile. "Of course. I'll see what I can find for you, dear. Any preference?"
Homura paused.
She hadn't thought that far ahead. She hadn't really read for pleasure in decades. Everything she picked up was about tactics, physics, obscure mythologies, and the anatomy of witches. She hesitated.
"Anything's fine," she said at first, her gaze drifting back to the window, but then a thought struck her, and she quickly turned back. "Actually… if you have anything informative, that'd be good too. Maybe something about… quirks?"
The nurse blinked, surprised by the sudden addition, then gave a small, pleasant nod. "Of course. I'll see what I can find."
Homura watched her leave, then let out a soft breath, leaning back against the bed once more. She felt a little ridiculous for not thinking of it sooner. But maybe… maybe that was a good thing.
Because now, she felt freer than she had in years.
---
Not long after, the nurse returned. In her hands was a small, simple textbook. Its cover was plain, a soft shade of blue with the words Introduction to Quirks and Quirk Theory printed neatly across the front.
"Here we go," the nurse said with a small smile, setting it on the bedside table. "It's a bit outdated, but it should cover the basics."
Homura nodded, her fingers already reaching for it as the nurse left. She ran a hand across the cover, feeling the faint texture of the old print beneath her fingertips.
An unfamiliar topic, in a world she barely understood.
It had been a long while since she touched a textbook that wasn't mandatory. Back then, she made it a priority to study ahead - most of her middle school curriculum, and even parts of high school - just in case any problems ever came up. In some loops, it came in handy when building relationships with Sayaka Miki and Madoka. As always, Anything that could be dealt with before it became an issue, she made sure to handle.
That had been her way of living. Always preparing, always staying three steps ahead.
But did she need to do that anymore?
"Ugh…" Homura groaned softly, dropping her head onto her knees, frustrated with her own overthinking. It had been years since she let her mind spiral like this over something so pointless.
She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away, and opened the book, skimming through the pages. At least, she noted with a small sigh of relief, the Japanese language hadn't changed much in all this time.
Small mercies.
---
There was so much written, yet so little truly known about these things called quirks.
The textbook went over the usual story. The first recorded quirk user was a newborn boy in China, born with a light-emitting ability over two hundred years ago. Homura narrowed her eyes at the date. That lined up a little too neatly with a few decades after she first made her contract.
A coincidence? Or maybe… someone else had made a wish.
to make superpowers common?
But then somebody else had to have wished the magical girl cycle away. to make it make sense, because even if somebody had made powers commonplace, the cycle the incubators put in place would have stayed, just like how it did for most of history.
But still, she knew it was nothing but random, baseless theorising, but it felt plausible enough to consider.
Anyway, according to the textbook, quirks were a biological mutation that just… happened.
Homura frowned. Even with her limited understanding of biology, she knew it did not work like that. Mutations took countless generations to become widespread, and even then, nothing as sudden and dramatic as this should have emerged globally in such a short span.
The book's explanation - a handwave of "biological phenomenon, so it's fine" - frustrated her more than it should have. It only made the theory in the back of her mind feel more convincing. If this were the result of a wish, it would explain the sudden ease with which the world seemed to accept something so impossible.
Homura supposed that was enough of the history section. It was starting to irritate her how little solid information there actually was.
Flipping ahead, she skimmed over the basics. Quirks usually manifested by age four, though there were documented cases of them appearing at birth or, in very rare instances, during the late teenage years. The current ratio of quirkless individuals to those with quirks sat at about twenty percent, and even that number, the textbook noted, was mostly made up of the elderly population.
Meaning the current generation must have an incredibly low number of quirkless people walking around. A society built almost entirely on power. Homura could already imagine what kind of world that made.
She kept reading.
Next, it explained that quirks were essentially extensions of a person's natural bodily functions. Some were as minor as changes in skin pigmentation, while others could level city blocks. Like a muscle, quirks could be trained, refined, and strengthened through repeated use. But also, like a muscle, overuse came with consequences. The textbook gave a simple example - a fire user could burn themselves if they pushed beyond their body's limits.
Homura rested her cheek against her knuckles, mulling over the concept, then she read on.
The next section was quirk types.
The textbook listed them plainly. There were three primary classifications.
Emitter-types. Transformation-types. Mutant-types.
Emitters were the most common quirks that allowed a person to control or produce something, often affecting the environment or objects around them. Fire, ice, telekinesis, soundwaves. Anything external.
Transformation types were quirks that temporarily altered the user's body or its functions in some way. Hardening skin, enhancing strength, turning invisible, or changing into something else entirely for a limited time.
And Mutant-types were quirks that caused permanent physical alterations from birth. Wings, extra limbs, animalistic traits, or other noticeable deviations that often couldn't be turned off.
Homura stared at the brief descriptions, fingers tapping lightly against the page.
If she had to pick… her ability most resembled a Transformation-type. Though it wasn't exactly changing her body, it just changed her clothes and gave her a shield. But hopefully, it'll be close enough that people will buy it.
The next section covered the legality of quirks.
It began with a blunt warning: all quirk usage was strictly prohibited unless used under very specific circumstances, primarily self-defence against villains.
Villains? Homura's mind immediately flicked back to Nezu's words. He was the principal of a hero school, after all. So, did that mean normal criminals were considered villains now? Had the police been fully replaced by heroes? The idea was strange, but in a society so deeply entwined with quirks, it made a certain kind of sense.
If this had been years ago, she might have questioned whether she was dreaming, as heroes being a reality was usually just a figment of imagination... but considering she was a quote-unquote "magical girl". Reality had long since proven it could outpace imagination.
And if the world of magical girls taught her anything, it was that bright colours and noble ideals rarely meant peace.
She wasn't naïve enough (anymore) to expect a world of heroes to be sunshine and rainbows.
Before she could dwell any deeper, the door creaked open.
Homura's brow lifted in surprise, confusion washing over her face. Standing in the doorway was a figure who looked like death itself, pale, almost skeletal, with sharp blonde hair neatly combed back. He wore a pristine white buttoned-up shirt, sleeves rolled neatly, but his frail appearance was unmistakable.
Was… was that due to a quirk?
Her mind raced as the sickly-looking man approached her bedside, a warm smile softening his otherwise intimidating presence.
"Nice to meet you, Toshinori Yagi," he greeted warmly, offering a hand. His voice was soft and calm, carrying a gentleness that sharply contrasted with his frail, skeletal appearance. "As I hope Nezu mentioned, I'm here to give you the details for your temporary accommodations and escort you to the apartment you'll be staying in until the dormitories are completed."
Homura blinked, eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. There was something… off. Despite the sickly, bone-thin frame, there was a weight to him. Not physically, but something beneath the surface. A presence she couldn't quite place.
Perhaps a retired hero. Or someone who'd seen battle before. She didn't need much experience in this world to recognise the signs of someone carrying old injuries.
"Thank you, Toshinori-san. My name is Homura Akemi. It's a pleasure to meet you." Homura offered a small, precise bow out of long-ingrained habit. from hundreds of copy-by-copy examples.
Toshinori's eyes widened faintly, surprised by the formality, before a chuckle slipped from his lips.
"There's no need for that, Akemi-san," he replied with an easy smile, his thin shoulders relaxing. "Now then, here you are."
He handed her a folder of papers. Homura took it, thumbing through the contents. It was simple - address, apartment number, a list of nearby shops, emergency numbers, and some notes about what was provided at the apartment. Basic, but thorough.
"I'll be escorting you there personally," Toshinori added. "If you're feeling well enough, of course."
"I am," Homura replied without hesitation, closing the folder and tucking it under one arm. "Thank you for taking the time."
"No trouble at all," he grinned.
---
They arrived without incident.
Toshinori had given a quick, polite introduction to the place, pointing out the basics - where the nearest store was, how to reach staff if anything was needed, and a reminder that Nezu would check in within the next day or so. Then, with a final smile and a wave, he took his leave, disappearing down the hall.
Homura stepped inside, letting the door close behind her.
It was… decent. Not small, but not extravagant either. A modest one-bedroom apartment, with a clean bathroom, a small living room attached to an open kitchen, and a spare room she assumed could be used for storage or anything else she needed. Honestly, it was quite large compared to the standard apartments she knew of in Japan.
It had the essentials already stocked. Bedding, towels, basic cooking utensils, and a few toiletries. Even a TV and radio set up in the corner, though she doubted she'd use them much.
Homura took a slow breath, letting the silence settle around her before stepping into what would be her bedroom. It was simple, like the rest of the apartment. A bed neatly made with fresh sheets, a bin tucked into the corner, a modest closet, and a plain desk. What immediately caught her attention, though, was what sat atop that desk.
A laptop, closed and untouched. And beside it, a phone.
Propped up against the phone was a small sticky note. What drew her eyes first wasn't the words, but the little doodle at the bottom — a small bear-like figure with round mouse ears and beady black eyes.
Next to it, in tidy handwriting:From Nezu.
Homura raised an eyebrow, stepping closer and plucking up the note between two fingers. Unfolding it, she read.
"I hope you're the one reading this, Homura Akemi. If you're not, well… I have some very interesting questions about how you ended up in this room, and an even longer list of concerns. But I'll assume for now it's you.
I trust the apartment is to your liking. You'll be staying here for the next week until the dormitories are finished - the ones Toshinori mentioned in a half-dead wheeze. Do not worry about him. he is perfectly functional.
As you've likely noticed, I've gone ahead and stocked the place with all the essentials you might need. Food, toiletries, towels, probably a few things you didn't ask for, but I thought were funny to include anyway. There's also a laptop for school-related work, unless you decide to repurpose it for explosive reasons, which I would personally respect."
She lowered the note, her expression unreadable, though one corner of her mouth twitched up slightly. It was thorough, she'd give him that. But also... very informal... and threatening?
Looking back, there was more
"As you can see, I've also decided to provide you with a mobile phone for personal use. Considering how you had absolutely no belongings when you arrived at the hospital, which I can only assume were either destroyed or incinerated in whatever lovely catastrophe you crawled out of, I thought it best to equip you with something a little more modern than a homing pigeon.
You'll find my number already saved. If you have concerns, questions, existential dread, or a pressing need to debate philosophical paradoxes, feel free to message me. Though, do understand that as the head of a prestigious hero academy, my time is precious, and you may occasionally be left on read. Don't take it personally, I do it to everyone."
Homura's lips twitched. This is... unusually casual for a teacher.
She read on.
"Now, I suggest you take this time to relax. Adjust, breathe, and try not to disassemble the walls out of boredom. Your first day at U.A. will begin in precisely one week, on the coming Monday. I'll be visiting tomorrow for a proper chat - think of it as orientation. Or interrogation. Whichever word unsettles you more.
See you soon."
And of course, the little doodle of presumably himself, and his name.
Homura exhaled through her nose, setting the note down with a dry smirk. It was strange. She should be on guard, but something about Nezu's deliberately unhinged cheerfulness felt almost… fun.
It was interesting, and alot better than the incubator's manner of speech and deception.
"I wonder if he is always like this... considering how he addressed Toshinori-san, probably would be a safe answer."
Her gaze slid over to the phone. Might as well check it over. If nothing else, she was morbidly curious about what kind of nonsense the rat put on it.
She lifted the phone - and immediately spotted another note hidden beneath it.
Oh, right, the phone's a bomb. You can see it on the back.
– Nezu.
Her eyes widened.
There was no hesitation with her following movement.
Click.
Time froze, colour bled away, and the world stilled in that monochrome hush. The phone stopped mid-fall as she instinctively dropped it, floating in the air like a mocking little prop.
She sighed, muttering a low curse under her breath. "Of course. Of course, it was the rodent."She should have trusted her past experiences. Nothing good came from small, white, beady-eyed creatures.
Grumbling, she flipped the phone over.
Another note, this one almost blended into the casing.
Oh, apologies. Did I say bomb? Silly me.
:) – Nezu.
She stared.
And stared.
and stared
staring
staring
wow
could almost make it blush
Yet she kept staring
and staring
Then, without a word, she resumed time. The phone landed harmlessly on the desk.
She didn't flinch.
Instead, Homura silently reached into her shield, pulled out an old wooden chair, and set it carefully in the middle of the room. carefully treated it like a delicate object, a smile plastered on her face, as if trying to beat out every customer service worker in the world.
Then, taking a single, steady breath
She let out a raw, primal scream at the top of her lungs, grabbing the chair and kicking it so hard it shattered like a stack of dry twigs and cheap LEGO bricks.
Silence.
She dusted off her hands.
She stood there in silence as she stared at her little mess
she stared
and stared
at the crumbling little pieces of wooden, snapped all around on the floor.
She gave off one word, "better"
and stared.
A/N hehe, chaotic little shit go brrr.