Reappearing in another world, Tsutsumi blinked as his surroundings came into focus. The scent of oil, hot metal, and welding sparks filled the air. He was standing in the middle of a vast workshop, an industrial cathedral of technology.
Dozens of male workers shuffled about, carrying heavy crates and tools, sweating under the weight of machinery that resembled giant limbs, arms, legs, wings, even torsos. Scattered across the hangar were half-assembled humanoid figures, towering like small, silent titans awaiting completion.
As he wandered further, Tsutsumi noticed several women working among them. Unlike the men, these women weren't hauling boxes; they were the ones actually repairing and fine-tuning the massive armor suits. They all seemed to wear their own set of armor suits, using them to repair and modify the other half-assembled humanoid suit.
After he asked around and done his own research about this world. He found that this world was shaped by the existence of the Infinite Stratos, or IS for short.
The IS were advanced, powered exoskeletons of immense combat power, capable of leveling battlefields. Yet, their creator had embedded a twist in their design, making them only for women.
Tsutsumi's brow furrowed, his voice low with quiet disdain. "...This seems... kinda racist."
The logic was absurd to him. The machines were obviously capable of syncing with either gender; the existence of the first-ever male IS pilot proved that much. But outside that anomaly, every other man was blocked from even touching the start-up button.
The result was inevitable. Women, empowered by the monopoly over IS technology, rose to dominance. Their authority wasn't just political or cultural; it was enforced at the barrel of mechanized cannons. Anyone who opposed them risked being crushed by overwhelming firepower. The addiction to power was clear, a hunger as intoxicating as it was dangerous.
Of course, new laws were created to help balance out these changes. Like how when Quirk first appeared, no one knew what was happening or what to do, and only after some time were new laws created to balance out the sudden rise of superpowered humans.
But Tsutsumi only sighed. This wasn't his world. He had no interest in fixing its broken system, no desire to play savior.
What interested him was the technology. The craftsmanship of the IS, the energy cores, the mobility and function of the suits, there were secrets here worth unraveling.
As a traveler wandering through countless worlds, he never leaves empty-handed. Souvenirs, power, techniques, knowledge, tricks of science or magic, each world had something worth taking.
So Tsutsumi spent his days in this IS repair workshop, though he had no interest in fixing machines for others. He was working on something else entirely.
Using the scraps and discarded material left to rot in storage, he quietly built his own project. Thanks to his tracing spell, his purple eyes could perform a complete scan of any object, reading its history, dissecting its composition, uncovering every hidden detail down to the smallest particle.
From broken frames, charred circuit boards, and shattered plating, Tsutsumi extracted the functional pieces. Piece by piece, he rebuilt them into something new. He made the workshop's equipment his own, carefully bending, cutting, and programming until the fragments began to take shape.
"Alright then… test run number ten," he murmured, jotting notes on a nearby pad. His prototype had gone through multiple revisions, each iteration closer to perfection.
In his tinkering, he had discovered a peculiar function in the IS system, a feature designed to disassemble the user's clothing into elementary particles, storing them in its databanks. The function wasn't just for efficiency; it was meant to instantly replace the pilot's outfit with their IS combat suit, syncing directly with their machine.
Tsutsumi had… repurposed it.
He slipped a sleek bracelet onto his left wrist, fingers tapping lightly against its surface. At once, his casual clothing disassembled into glowing motes of light and reformed as his U.A. uniform. Another tap, his Beacon uniform materialized instead. One more tap, and he returned to his casual attire.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"A successful prototype," he murmured, gathering his scattered notes.
But before he could continue, the sound of deliberate footsteps echoed across the stone floor. Firm, measured, growing closer.
Tsutsumi looked up.
A woman was approaching, a striking figure dressed in a crisp white blouse beneath a black business overcoat, her pencil skirt paired with black stockings and neat mary jane shoes. Her long black hair framed a stern face, and her sharp brown eyes locked onto him with an intensity that made the air heavy.
She stopped, her gaze narrowing. "You… actually cracked Tabane's code…" she said softly, though her voice carried a blade's edge.
"Tabane?" Tsutsumi echoed, tilting his head. The name clicked after a moment. Shinonono Tabane, the original creator of the Infinite Stratos, the so-called genius who unleashed this technology upon the world. Every nation and manufacturer had been working off her foundation ever since.
Of course, Tsutsumi's prototype hadn't functioned at first. It refused to acknowledge him, wouldn't even respond to his commands. Until he tore open its programming and rewrote its code.
The woman's footsteps resumed, heels clicking with authority as she closed the distance between them. "You. Follow me. Right now."
Tsutsumi didn't move. His voice remained calm. "And why should I?"
She stopped directly in front of him, her shadow falling across his desk. Her gaze bore down on him, sharp and unyielding.
"It's for your own safety," She said, her tone cold but urgent. "Do you realize what you just did?"
...
With nothing better to do, Tsutsumi followed the woman, Orimura Chifuyu, through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. She walked ahead with the confidence of someone who never doubted her own steps, and without much explanation, she led him into a quiet restaurant tucked between tall office buildings.
She booked a private room without hesitation, the kind reserved for executives and politicians. Suspicious... But Tsutsumi didn't complain.
Inside, Orimura sat across from him, her posture sharp and commanding. Tsutsumi, however, was far less concerned with appearances. The moment food arrived, he dug in without restraint.
It wasn't surprising, after all, he had been holed up in that workshop for who knows how long. If not for his enhanced body, his unnatural resilience, he might have collapsed from exhaustion and hunger days ago, so now, food comes first.
"And that's why joining the IS Academy is your only option now," Orimura said firmly, her voice heavy with authority. She laid out the truth like a hammer striking an anvil, the moment he cracked Tabane's code, his fate was sealed.
Tsutsumi didn't even look up, busy shoveling another mouthful of rice into his mouth.
To summarize her lecture, by forcefully overwriting Tabane's system, he had created something that should have been impossible. Turning IS technology usable to both genders.
The fragile balance between men and women, already warped by IS technology being female-exclusive, would shatter instantly if word got out. Governments, corporations, militaries, even underground groups would fight to claim him. Capture or kill, it depends on which groups get their hand on him first. Either way, he would become the most wanted man on Earth.
Finally, Tsutsumi swallowed, his gaze lifting toward her.
"And what say you aren't one of them?" he asked coolly, his tone unconcerned with the weight of being public enemy number one. "And more importantly, how did you find me so fast?"
Orimura's chopsticks froze in midair.
"If I really wanted to capture you," she said evenly, "I wouldn't have invited you to dinner." She let that sink in before continuing. "After you cracked Tabane's code, she contacted me directly and gave me your location."
Tsutsumi arched a brow. "So you're one of her underlings?"
The chopsticks in Orimura's hand broke cleanly in two. Her expression hardened, but she forced herself to take a slow breath.
"She and I are… old friends," she admitted reluctantly. "When she told me about you, she asked me to put an end to you. To erase you before the world ever found out."
Her eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, folding her hands beneath her chin."But when I saw you. I saw something different. You are just a boy with talent..." Her voice dropped, low but resolute, "Talent that could change this world, like her. I stood by and did nothing as she changed the world, for better or for worse. Now, finding a talent similar to hers, I find it unfair to you if I suddenly ruin your life just because you're talented."
Tsutsumi finally set his chopsticks down. "Change the world, huh? What if I become the reason this world ends?"
Orimura didn't flinch. "Then I will be the one to put an end to you before it happens."
For a long moment, the room was silent save for the muted hum of Tokyo outside. Then Tsutsumi gave a small shrug, almost amused.
After dinner, he accepted her offer, not out of trust, but because it was convenient. For now, joining the all-boarding school, IS Academy meant food, shelter, and time to breathe. And if that meant becoming Orimura Chifuyu's teaching assistant in a school filled with 99.9% females… well, so be it.
After months in the Kiva AR World, drenched in blood and hunting ghouls through alleys and shadows, a calm life, even one as absurd as this, might be the kind of "peace" he could afford before returning to his endless journey.
...
The next day, Tsutsumi walked alongside Orimura Chifuyu through the main hall of IS Academy, the sound of their footsteps echoing faintly against polished floors. Whispers immediately followed in their wake. Dozens of curious eyes tracked him, girls nudging one another, covering their mouths as gossip spilled out like wildfire.
"Say, why do I have to wear a male student uniform?" Tsutsumi asked, tugging at the collar of his blazer with mild annoyance. He thought that he signed up to be a teaching assistant, not a student. "I thought I was your teaching assistant?"
"You will still be my teaching assistant," Orimura replied flatly, walking unfazed through the sea of stares. "But I can't exactly let a sixteen-year-old waltz into a classroom and teach. You're the same age as my students, they won't listen to you. Especially when you're a boy."
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Besides, apart from coding and cobbling together equipment out of scrap, I still don't know what else you're even good at."
"I'm good at everything," Tsutsumi said confidently, lips quirking into a smug grin. Then, almost too low for her to catch, he added, "Except taking pictures."
That earned the faintest twitch of Orimura's brow, her usual stone-cold mask shifting just a little. "So that explains why you insist on carrying that relic around?" she asked, her gaze flicking to the camera dangling from his neck.
"It's just a hobby," Tsutsumi replied, resting a hand on it.
They continued their stride until they reached the door to Class-1. The murmur of students buzzed behind it.
Inside, the assistant homeroom teacher, Yamada Maya, clapped her hands together with an excited smile. "Well, everyone, I have some exciting news for you! We have a new transfer student!"
As Orimura Chifuyu entered the classroom, the chatter hushed almost instantly. Authority clung to her like an aura, suffocating and undeniable.
"You can come in now," Orimura called back.
Tsutsumi stepped through the automatic door with his hands stuffed in his pockets, moving at an unhurried pace. His posture was relaxed, but there was an underlying sharpness in the way he scanned the room.
He stopped at the front, turning to the sea of girls and one boy. A faint smile tugged at his lips, calm but edged with mischief. "Tsutsumi Ryoko. Male student, Orimura-sensei's unpaid intern… and a passing-through Rider."
The room froze for a heartbeat. Then, a ripple of distrust and hostility broke out across the students' expressions. Dozens of sharp glares cut toward him, as though his very presence was an offense.
"Heh?" Tsutsumi blinked, genuinely puzzled. For once, he hadn't said anything outrageous, yet somehow, he still managed to piss off an entire class.
A student shot her hand up, glaring at him. "Do you really think crossdressing as a boy is going to fool us? Trying to get close to Orimura-kun, huh?"
Another chimed in immediately after, her voice sharp with suspicion. "Yeah! Charlotte-chan already pulled this trick on us. You really think you can get away with it just because you've got a pretty face?"
Tsutsumi smirked, tilting his head. "What? Jealous that a boy's better looking than all of you combined, or something?"
That single jab was enough to spark a storm. Several students bristled, their tempers flaring as mutters and protests broke out.
Before the situation could ignite further, Orimura-sensei's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Enough."
Her tone was firm, commanding absolute silence. The classroom fell quiet instantly. "Tsutsumi Ryoko is confirmed to be male. He will be joining you as a classmate, and at the same time, working as my assistant. That is all."
Her word was final, and no one dared to defy her.
Tsutsumi was directed toward his new seat, sliding into it with the same relaxed air as before. As Orimura-sensei resumed her lecture at the front, the atmosphere in the classroom didn't soften. If anything, the intensity grew sharper. Dozens of pairs of eyes kept sneaking toward him, sizing him up, dissecting him like he was some unknown species.
Tsutsumi, however, paid no mind. He leaned back in his chair, spinning his pen between his fingers with ridiculous speed, a faint smirk ghosting across his lips.