He walked onto the road adjacent to his middle school. A boy no more than 14 years old, he has the kind of look in his eyes that many of us are used to, a kind of look without any motivation, without any kind of burden. This kind of ascendant behaviour is only witnessed when there is absolutely no hope left whatsoever.
Utter bliss.
The only thing that went through his mind... was utterly nothing, not even static. This is the kind of memory that he would look back on when he becomes old, of course, that depends entirely on how old he will grow and what kind of things he will experience.
What could he experience?
First love?
Friendships?
Family?
That is something for him to find out as he gets older, right now his main goal is to acquire as many passions and habits, so that he can have a long time rediscovering himself when he takes a gap year or five before university.
He arrives in his class and takes his seat in his assigned seat. The utter joy and transcendent demeanour of the boy stands out in comparison to the tangible gloom of the class. Some look upon the boy in disgust, others in confusion, others... share his own demeanour, having given up on any possible hope.
"My students... My excellent, intelligent, and ever so creative students..." The teacher stand facing the blackboard, a dark shadow covering his eyes.
"May I ask what in the FUCKS name has caused our grade average for this year to reach such an abhorrent level... 21%... WAS THE HIGHEST GRADE AMONGST ALL OF YOU PITIFUL SLIMES" His fury was endless, more so from the shock that this result was even feasible; he had never even considered the human brain to devolve to this state.
Yet the boy's demeanour had not changed. His smile was the kind you'd see on the enlightened old monks in the Tibetan mountains. This was a kind of wisdom obtained after years and years of failures.
"ARATAKA WIPE THAT SHIT EATING GRIN ON YOUR FACE, YOU MISPELLED YOUR NAME AND TURNED IN AN EMPTY TEST" The teacher unleashed many awful and horrible truths. It's a shame that the boy was in a state of delusion and would not hear absolutely any constructive criticism.
This boy here is named Daido Arataka; he is extremely stupid.
And he knows it quite well; he has no qualms about it either. His future is decided for him already. He shall be a lazy bum living off the pity and welfare of others as he makes his home under a bridge and shouts philosophies at people who need it. He may even enlighten another poor soul during his poverty-stricken pilgrimage.
"I am very disappointed in all of you. This is your last year of middle school, I know and understand most of you want to be heroes..." As he said that, many students looked up from their desks in hope.
"But the practical only ranks you in comparison to other students, the top 40 students become heroes, but the written exam still determines whether you enter the hero school or not, whether its Shiketsu, Ketsubutsu... even UA!"
As the words left his mouth, the hopes of every student were crushed mercilessly, our little dum dum, however, has no hopes to crush! Though a hero school does sound nice...
...
...
...
So how did he end up here? His thoughts wandered as he looked at the strength gym in front of him.
This gym was tailor-made for people with quirks that permitted enhanced bodily functions, where one could lift upwards of a hundred tonnes, or could move at the speed of sound.
It was a rather pricy gym, costing over 10 thousand yen a month.
Though it was pricy, this was an absolute necessity for Daido. His quirk was not specifically made to enhance his bodily functions; he did not have super strength or super speed. No, his quirk was instead something much more complicated.
His tears packed quite a punch.
Wait... his tears?
Am I getting this right?
Daido's quirk is crying?
No, wait, that looks to be about right.
His quirk is named... Bullet tears.
Special glands within his tear ducts inject into his tears a specific magnetic compound; this magnetic compound is unaffected by most kinds of electromagnetic waves. His eyelids are arranged in layers with a membrane, each membrane alternating from positive charges to negative charges. In short, his eyes are small biological railguns.
This abomination of nature, will go and cry his heart out in a gym.
Daido stands in front of a punching machine. More often than not, these machines were used to measure the power of a strike. In the recent century of biological wonder, this has become much more developed, showing an accuracy of force of the strike down to the last gram. Metal lines cover the machine, showing just how reinforced it was; even the strongest superhuman couldn't damage it severely, of course, with All Might being the exception.
This was the moment of truth, the greatest truth, in fact. This boy was about to turn heads and break all expectations.
He turns on his phone, and looks something up.
What could it be? What could this wonder truly be searching up that could delay this moment?
...Is that an orangutan?
Oh, wait, it fell over.
*Sniff*
D-Did he just...
*POW*
A bullet flies out from his right eye as he blinks, with a diameter much larger than that of a regular tear. Typically, tears are small, fleeting lines that flow down the cheeks of an individual.
The tear, one the size of a fist, flies into the red leather of the punching machine and releases a sound of someone punching the surface of a large body of water. That is to say, with the force of a playful child.
*DING* *DING* *DING*
"New Lowest Score! DAIDO ARATAKA AT 30 KILOGRAMS AND 26 GRAMS"
The voice of the machine rung out...
I didn't expect it to announce lowest scores as well.
Daido are you okay?
...
*Sniff*
*POW*
*DING* *DING* *DING*
"Daido Arataka NEW HIGHSCORE! 32 KILOGRAMS AND 821 GRAMS"
...
Well at least he's improving.
But what this boy is quite unaware of, his power comes to mimic a martyr. Someone from another realm, bound.
This boy, through endless runs, will prevail, and he shall be crowned the one who survives.