The morning light hit the polished desk again, glinting off the edges of folders stacked neatly. The interviewer straightened his tie, flipping to the next batch of applicants. No janitors today. Only hero positions—crime investigation, crime fighting, and supply backup.
The first candidate walked in. He was short, fidgety, with messy hair falling over his eyes. His clothes were slightly wrinkled.
"You applied for supply backup, that's correct?"
"Yes," he said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Describe your ability."
"I… I can store objects in a pocket dimension," he said nervously. "Anything I touch can go there."
The interviewer raised an eyebrow. "…Anything?"
"Yes, but there are a couple of limits," the boy said. "I can't put living beings in there, and if an object stays too long, it disappears."
The interviewer scribbled quickly. Very practical for supply backup. "…Noted. Recorded. Forward with your application."
The boy nodded, relieved, and left.
The second candidate entered briskly. She was tall, confident, wearing a fitted jacket and sleek boots. Her eyes were sharp and alert.
"You applied for crime investigation, that's correct?"
"Yes," she said firmly.
"Describe your quirk."
"I can directly link my perspective to any device's camera," she said calmly. "Phones, security cameras, drones—if I see it, I can watch through it in real time."
The interviewer leaned back, intrigued. Highly versatile for investigation. "Any limits?"
"Yes," she said. "I must see the device firsthand to link to it. Once I stop looking at it, the link lasts only two hours maximum."
"…Noted. Extremely unique. Recorded. Forward with your application."
She nodded and left, confidence radiating from her.
The third candidate walked in. He was thin, fidgety, with messy hair hanging in his eyes.
"You applied for crime investigation, that's correct?"
"Yes," he said quickly.
"Describe your ability."
"I… I can make my movements lag for a few seconds," he said nervously.
The interviewer blinked, pen hovering midair. "…Lag? That's it?"
"Yes," the boy said, shuffling nervously. "It… it could be useful sometimes…"
The interviewer slammed the folder down, voice sharp. "No. That is not useful! It doesn't help anyone!"
The boy opened his mouth to argue, but the interviewer's voice rose. "GET OUT!"
The boy flinched, backing away. His protests died in his throat as he stumbled toward the door.
The fourth candidate entered confidently, her posture perfect, eyes sharp.
"You applied for crime fighting, that's correct?"
"Yes," she said.
"Describe your ability."
"I can reduce the damage an attacker does to me and redirect it back at them," she explained. "I can control the amount of damage I absorb and use it offensively against them."
The interviewer tapped the pen thoughtfully. Extremely practical in combat—both defensive and offensive. "Limits?"
"Requires focus. Can't reflect attacks I don't perceive," she said.
"…Noted. Recorded. Forward with your application."
The fifth candidate walked in with a shy smile, glasses slightly crooked.
"You applied for crime investigation, that's correct?"
"Yes," he said.
"Describe your ability."
"I can generate short bursts of electricity from my hands," he said. "Enough to stun opponents, disable small electronics, or create distractions."
The interviewer tapped the pen thoughtfully. Useful in combat, limited in duration. "Noted. Recorded. Forward with your application."
The sixth candidate strode in confidently, her hair tied back neatly, wearing a practical dark suit.
"You applied for crime fighting, that's correct?"
"Yes," she said calmly.
"Describe your ability."
"I can reduce the friction of my body," she said. "I can slide at high speed across surfaces, chase targets, or maneuver quickly in combat. I can use the friction to push off walls, corners, or the floor to increase speed or change direction."
The interviewer leaned forward, intrigued. That was extremely practical for pursuit or field combat.
"Limits?" he asked.
"Only works on surfaces I can push off of. Sticky, rough, or irregular surfaces reduce my speed," she explained.
"…Noted. Extremely practical. Recorded. Forward with your application."
Six applicants. One for supply backup with a practical pocket-dimension quirk, one for investigation with unique perspective-linking, two for combat—one absorbing and redirecting damage, another sliding with friction control—and one "lag" quirk that didn't even make it out alive in the interview.
The interviewer leaned back in his chair, adjusting his tie again. Some people applied thinking any quirk would impress, while others could genuinely make a difference.
For the fourth time that week, he allowed himself a small, cautious smile. This batch… might actually shake things up.
He pushed the last folder aside and stood, the polished floor reflecting his shoes as he straightened his suit. The day had been long, and the constant stream of quirks had left his mind buzzing. He walked toward the front door of the bureau, the hum of fluorescent lights fading behind him.
Outside, the city smelled faintly of rain and asphalt. He drew a deep breath, loosening his tie just slightly. Somewhere nearby, a café's warm aroma of roasted coffee beans called to him.
He adjusted his jacket and headed toward it, letting the noise of the street wash over him. One cup of coffee, he decided, might just make this day feel manageable again.
As he stepped into the café, the door shutting softly behind him, he allowed himself a rare moment of calm—a pause before the next wave of quirks and applicants inevitably arrived.