Chapter 3: The Spark and the Static
The world didn't come back all at once. It returned in fragments of sensory overload—the smell of ozone, the taste of copper, and a ringing in my ears that sounded like a thousand radio stations all tuning into a dead frequency at the same time.
I was lying on my back. The ceiling of my bedroom was gone, or at least, the plaster was. I could see the wooden laths and the insulation, scorched black in a perfect circle above where I lay. My race-car bed was a skeleton of melted plastic and charred foam.
I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy. Not the clumsy weight of a toddler, but something denser. My skin felt... tight. Like I was wearing a suit that was two sizes too small.
"Kenji? Kenji, please!"
That was my mom. Her voice was thin, reedy, and laced with the kind of terror that makes your blood run cold. I turned my head, and the movement felt strange. My neck didn't just turn; it felt like a series of well-oiled gears were sliding into place.
I saw them. My parents were huddled at the edge of the room, behind the ruins of my dresser. My dad, Hiroshi, had his arms wrapped around my mother. He was "Flash-Stepping" in place—a nervous tic that made his body blur and stutter in the dim light. But it was my mom who caught my attention. Her "Luminescence" was out of control. She wasn't glowing a warm gold anymore; she was a strobe light of frantic, jagged violet and white, illuminating the wreckage in rhythmic pulses.
"I'm... I'm here," I tried to say.
But the voice that came out wasn't mine. It was melodic, buzzing with a slight electronic distortion, and it had a crackling undertone that sounded like a live wire hitting a puddle.
I looked down at my hands. They weren't pink. They weren't chubby. They were black, sleek, and segmented, with blue-white lines of energy pulsing through them like veins. My fingers were long and ended in rounded, plug-like tips.
I wasn't Kenji. I was Feedback.
I was a Conductoid—a being that lived on the consumption and redirection of energy. And in a house where my mother was a literal biological lightbulb and my father was a kinetic engine of "pop-steps," I was currently in a five-star restaurant.
The Consumption
The instinct hit me before the logic could. Conductoids don't just "see" energy; they feel it like a starving man feels the heat of a fresh loaf of bread. I could feel the electricity running through the walls of the apartment. I could feel the static charge in the air from the storm outside. But most of all, I could feel the "Quirk" energy radiating off my parents.
"Kenji... is that you?" Hiroshi whispered, his glasses cracked and hanging off one ear.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My body moved on its own. I raised my long, antenna-like tails—the ones protruding from the back of my head—and they instinctively latched onto the exposed wiring in the scorched wall.
WHOOSH.
The rush was better than any drug. The apartment's power grid flowed into me, a torrent of raw, unrefined current. The blue lines on my black skin began to glow with a blinding intensity. I felt the "Error" messages from the Omnitrix—the ones that had been screaming in my brain just moments ago—begin to fade as the device fed on the excess power.
[ENERGY LEVELS: 12%... 24%... 40%...]
[SYNCHRONIZATION: STABILIZING.]
"Kenji, stop!" My mom took a step forward, her violet glow intensifying. "You're hurting yourself! You're... you're draining the building!"
She was right. The lights in the hallway outside were flickering and dying. The hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen cut out. I was a vacuum, and I was pulling everything in.
I forced myself to let go. With a mental wrench that felt like pulling a tooth, I disconnected my plugs from the wall. The sudden lack of input made me stumble, my long, thin legs shaking. I looked at the Omnitrix symbol on my chest—it was a solid, reassuring green. No red flashes. No error codes.
"Mom. Dad. It's me," I said, the electronic buzz in my voice smoothing out. "I'm okay. I... I think this is my Quirk."
The Aftermath
The transformation didn't last. Ten minutes later, with a soft beep-beep-beep and a flash of green light, the Conductoid form dissolved. I was back to being a four-year-old in a scorched onesie, sitting in the middle of a ruined bedroom.
The heavy, black-and-white gauntlet remained on my wrist. It looked far too large for a child, yet it didn't feel heavy anymore. It felt like a part of my bone structure.
The rest of the night was a blur of sirens and flashlights. In a world of Quirks, a house exploding with green light is a "Code 4" event. Within twenty minutes, the Fire Department and a local "Pro-Hero" had arrived.
The hero was a mid-tier guy named Backdraft. He looked like a fireman in a yellow suit with water tanks on his back. He stood in my bedroom, looking at the charred circle on the floor and the high-tech watch on my wrist.
"Kid," he said, pushing up his visor. "That's a hell of a manifestation. You nearly blew the breaker for the whole block."
My parents were sitting on the sofa in the living room, wrapped in blankets. They looked ten years older than they had at dinner.
"We didn't know," Hiroshi told the hero, his voice trembling. "He's always been smart, but... we thought he might be Quirkless. And then this... thing... just appeared on him."
Backdraft knelt down in front of me. I tried to hide the watch behind my back, but the green hourglass symbol was glowing softly, visible through my fingers.
"Don't be scared, kid," Backdraft said kindly. "It's a Transformation-type, right? Looks like some kind of support-item integration. It's rare, but not unheard of. Sometimes the Quirk creates its own focus. We'll get you to a Quirk specialist in the morning."
I nodded, keeping my mouth shut. I knew the truth. This wasn't a Quirk. It was a DNA-altering supercomputer from the stars. But in this world, "Quirk" was the only word they had for it.
The Specialist's Office
The next day, we were at the Mustafu Quirk General Hospital. I sat on a crinkly paper-covered exam table while a doctor with four eyes—literally, two sets stacked on top of each other—examined the Omnitrix.
He poked it. He prodded it. He even tried to run an ultrasound on my arm.
"Fascinating," Dr. Yotsume muttered, his lower eyes squinting at a monitor. "The device is fused to the radius and ulna. It's drawing trace amounts of bio-electricity from the nervous system, but it also seems to have its own internal power source. It's almost like a... biological parasite, but a symbiotic one."
"Is he safe?" Emiko asked, clutching her purse.
"He's more than safe," the doctor said, turning the monitor around. "Look at the DNA sequence. When the device is 'active,' his human genome is suppressed, replaced entirely by a foreign structure. It's the most complete transformation I've ever seen. No Quirk-exhaustion markers, no cellular degradation... it's perfect."
He looked at me, all four of his eyes wide with curiosity. "What did you call that form, Kenji-kun?"
"Feedback," I said. I had decided to stick with the names. If I was going to be the Hero of 1,000 Faces, I might as well use the original labels.
"Feedback," the doctor repeated, writing it down. "And you say there were other... 'silhouettes' in the light?"
"Nine more," I lied. Well, it wasn't a lie, but it was a half-truth. I knew there were thousands, but I needed to keep the scale manageable. "But they're locked. I can't reach them."
The Problem of Being Four
The weeks following my "manifestation" were a mix of wonder and frustration. I was now a "Quirk Prodigy." The neighborhood kids who used to ignore me now stood outside our fence, hoping to see me turn into the "Electric Monster."
But the Omnitrix was being stubborn.
Every time I tried to activate it, the faceplate would remain dark. I'd slam my hand down, and nothing would happen. No flash, no Feedback.
What's wrong with you? I'd hiss at the watch while sitting in my new, non-scorched bed. I know how to use you. I've watched the show!
It took me a month to figure it out. One afternoon, while I was feeling particularly frustrated, I noticed a tiny, scrolling text on the side of the hourglass dial. It was written in Galvanic—a language I shouldn't have been able to read, yet somehow, my brain translated it instantly.
[RESTRICTION: BIOLOGICAL AGE INSUFFICIENT FOR HIGH-STRESS TRANSFORMATION.]
[LIMITER ACTIVE: 1 USE PER 24 HOURS.]
[RECHARGE TIME: VARIABLE BASED ON CALORIC INTAKE.]
I sank back against my pillows. Of course. The watch was protecting me. My four-year-old heart couldn't take the strain of constant DNA shifting. I was like a computer with a top-tier graphics card but a 100-watt power supply.
I had to wait. Again.
The Park and the Choice
A few days later, my mom took me to the park. She wanted me to "socialize," which was her way of saying she wanted me to stop acting like a forty-year-old man who was stuck in a waiting room.
I sat on the swings, watching a group of kids playing "Heroes and Villains." In the center of the group was a boy with spiky ash-blonde hair, his palms letting off small, rhythmic explosions.
Bakugo Katsuki.
Even at four, he was a natural leader. He was loud, arrogant, and clearly the most powerful kid on the playground. Beside him, looking small and nervous, was a green-haired boy I recognized instantly.
Izuku Midoriya.
I watched them. I knew this scene. I knew the trajectory of their lives. Bakugo would become the bully, Izuku would become the Quirkless dreamer, and eventually, their paths would collide with All Might.
Suddenly, Bakugo looked over at me. He'd heard the rumors. The "Watch Kid" with the "Power of Ten."
"Hey!" Bakugo shouted, walking over with a swagger that was ridiculous for a toddler. "You're the one who blew up his room, right? Let's see it! Turn into the monster!"
The other kids gathered around, including a wide-eyed Izuku.
"I can't," I said calmly, gripping the chain of the swing. "It's on cooldown."
"Cooldown? What kind of stupid hero has a cooldown?" Bakugo laughed, sparks popping in his hands. "You're just a fake! You probably just had a gas leak at your house!"
I felt a flash of irritation. My adult pride was a dangerous thing when paired with a toddler's temper. I looked at the Omnitrix. The dial was green. I had one charge.
I shouldn't do it, I told myself. Don't waste it on a four-year-old's ego.
But then I saw Bakugo raise his hand, a smug grin on his face, ready to blast the sand at my feet to prove a point.
I stood up. I didn't reach for Feedback. I turned the dial, feeling the gears click. The silhouette was different this time. Large, hulking, with four distinct appendages.
"Step back," I said.
I slammed my palm down.
FLASH!
The green light was so bright it blinded everyone in the park. The trees groaned as a sudden pressure wave pushed outward. When the light faded, I wasn't on the swing anymore.
Standing in the sand, towering over the four-year-olds, was a twelve-foot-tall, four-armed nightmare of red muscle and gold armor.
FOUR ARMS.
The silence was absolute. Bakugo's sparks died out. Izuku's jaw hit the ground.
I looked down at Bakugo, my four yellow eyes blinking in unison. I reached out one of my lower arms and plucked the All Might toy out of Midoriya's hand, holding it up to the light before gently handing it back to him.
"Wow..." Midoriya whispered, his eyes sparkling with tears of awe.
Bakugo took a step back, his face pale. "No... no way..."
I opened my mouth to say something cool, something hero-like. But as I did, the Omnitrix on my chest suddenly flashed a violent, warning PURPLE.
The ground beneath my feet didn't just crack—it began to glow.
[CRITICAL ERROR: DIMENSIONAL ANOMALY DETECTED.]
[SOURCE: UNKNOWN GENETIC SIGNATURE.]
Across the park, near the woods, a shadow began to stretch. It wasn't a shadow of a tree or a person. It was a tear in the air itself—a jagged, purple rift that smelled of ozone and rot.
A hand reached out of the rift. A hand with long, grey fingers and a familiar, notched palm.
My heart—the massive, four-chambered heart of a Tetramand—skipped a beat. I knew that hand. It wasn't from this world. It wasn't a Quirk.
"It found me," I rasped, my four fists clenching instinctively. "How did it find me here?"
From the rift, a voice echoed—a cold, rasping whisper that froze the blood of every child in the park.
"The Omnitrix... is mine, Tennyson. No matter which universe you hide in."
Author's Note: Things just got complicated! I know, I know—Vilgax already? But remember, this isn't just a MHA story, and Kenji isn't the only one who can cross universes. The purple rift is a hint that the Omnitrix didn't just bring Kenji here—it left a trail. Also, a quick shout-out to Four Arms for making the best entrance possible. Will Kenji be able to protect the kids while stuck in a body he barely understands? Find out in Chapter 4!