The conference room at U.A. High was usually a place of quiet strategy, but today the air felt heavy with a collective, skeptical silence. Principal Nezu sat at the head of the long table, his paws folded neatly in front of him. Around him sat the core faculty. Aizawa looked more exhausted than usual, his eyes bloodshot. All Might, in his narrowed form, leaned forward with a frown. Present Mic, Midnight, and Vlad King rounded out the group, each of them staring at the holographic data projected in the center of the room.
"I have called this meeting to discuss a special enrollment case," Nezu began, his voice calm and precise. "As many of you are aware, the Association concluded a major raid last night on the Gachinko underground circuit. The primary target was an eighteen-year-old named Kinji Hakari."
"The gambler," Aizawa said, his voice a low rasp. "I was there for the tail end of it. He's a problem, Nezu. He isn't just a delinquent. He has a level of combat experience that most third-years haven't even touched."
"Precisely why we are having this conversation," Nezu replied. He tapped a button, and the hologram shifted to show a blurred image of the warehouse. "I have received the combat data from Hawks, Best Jeanist, and Mirko. What they encountered was not a standard Quirk. Mr. Hakari refers to his ability as Idle Death Gamble."
"That is a remarkably dark name for a Quirk," All Might noted, his voice strained. "It sounds like something a villain would brag about in the middle of a bank heist."
"The name is the least of our concerns," Nezu said. "Let us look at the mechanics. Hakari's Quirk manifests as a jagged, abrasive energy. Mirko described it as hitting sandpaper. But the true nature of his power lies in its complexity. He creates a localized reality, a Domain, based on the logic of a romance-themed pachinko machine."
Midnight raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. "Romance-themed? Well, at least the boy has some taste, even if it is a bit dramatic."
"It is more than dramatic, Kayama," Nezu said. "Inside this space, the environment dictates the fight. Hakari uses physical constructs—shutter doors and metallic balls—to attack. But their effectiveness is determined by probability. If a green shutter door appears, his luck is low. Red is a warning that he is heating up. If gold or rainbow-colored constructs appear, he has essentially locked in a victory."
"He's fighting with a slot machine," Present Mic muttered, shaking his head. "That's wild. How do you even train against that?"
"You don't," Aizawa said, crossing his arms. "You just survive until the game ends. That is what Hawks and Jeanist tried to do. But they didn't understand the Reach Sequences. Nezu, explain the manga aspect."
Nezu nodded. "The screens inside the Domain play out scenes from a manga titled Pure Love Train. If the characters in the story succeed in their romantic confession, Hakari hits a Jackpot. When that happens, a high-tempo J-pop song begins to play. Mirko reported it was a track called 'Admiring My Honey.' During the duration of that song, which lasts exactly four minutes and eleven seconds, Hakari becomes functionally immortal."
The room went dead silent. All Might's eyes widened, and even Vlad King looked taken aback.
"Immortal?" Vlad King repeated. "In what sense? Total regeneration?"
"Automatic cellular repair," Nezu confirmed. "His body overflows with so much energy that it performs what he calls a Reverse Cursed Technique without him even thinking about it. He can ignore broken bones, internal bleeding, and even direct hits from a Top 10 Hero. He doesn't just heal. He persists."
"And the music?" Present Mic asked, leaning in. "You're saying he fights to a pop song for four minutes while he's an unkillable tank?"
"Yes," Nezu said. "And here is the part that truly unsettled the Association. If he hits a Jackpot on an odd number, he enters a Probability Shift. His next Domain Expansion becomes five times more likely to hit another Jackpot. Because his energy is replenished to its maximum during the song, he can expand the Domain again the moment the first one ends. He can, in theory, loop his immortality indefinitely."
Nezu tapped a finger against the wooden table, the hologram shifting to show a sequence of even numbers flickering in blue.
"There is a crucial detail regarding the Jackpot that we must understand," Nezu said, looking over his spectacles at Vlad King. "Not every victory is equal. If Mr. Hakari hits an even number jackpot—a two, four, or six—the 'Probability Shift' does not occur. He still receives the four minutes and eleven seconds of immortality, but the momentum is lost. Once that time is up, his next Domain returns to the base odds of one in two hundred and thirty nine."
Vlad King crossed his arms, his expression tightening. "So if he hits an even number, he's essentially back to square one. He has to survive a baseline gamble all over again. That is a massive drop in reliability."
"Exactly," Aizawa added, his voice cutting through the room like a cold wind. "It means he can't just cruise on luck. If the reels don't land on an odd number, he's a sitting duck once the music stops. He's betting his life that he doesn't hit a 'soft' jackpot. It's not just a power, it's a death wish."
Present Mic whistled low, the sound echoing in the silent room. "Man, that's heavy. Imagine fighting for your life and finally winning, only to realize you've only bought yourself four minutes of safety before you have to go back to the slots. The mental pressure on that kid must be insane."
"It gets more complex," Nezu continued, ignoring the growing unease. "He also utilizes what he calls 'Pseudo-spins.' If he senses a sequence is going to fail, he can manifest those colored indicators to 'reset' the visual field and try for a better outcome. It allows him to stay in the game longer, but it drains his base energy. He is constantly micro-managing his own luck while trading blows with people like Mirko. It's a level of multitasking that would cause most brains to short-circuit."
Midnight leaned forward, her eyes narrowed in thought. "He's not just gambling then. He's counting cards in a house that's trying to kill him. Every red shutter door or gold ball he manifests is a calculated risk. He's burning through his own stamina just to keep the reels spinning."
"And let's not forget the sure-hit factor," Nezu said. "The rules are forced into the opponent's mind instantly. It's a non-lethal strike, but it's a violation of mental privacy that most would find traumatizing. He doesn't ask you to play. He forces you to watch the screen."
All Might looked down at his clenched fist. "He's living in a world where nothing is guaranteed. Most of us rely on our Quirks as constants. For him, every second is a variable. It's no wonder he talks about 'Fever.' He's been living on a high for so long he probably doesn't know how to feel normal anymore."
Aizawa stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "He's a high-stakes addict who happens to have a god-tier Quirk. If he hits those even numbers in a real villain fight and fails the follow-up, he's dead. And if we put him in a class with kids who look up to him, they might start thinking that kind of recklessness is what it takes to be a hero."
"Or," Nezu said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "they will see exactly how much it costs to stand your ground when the odds are stacked against you."
Nezu leaned forward, his small paws interlaced as he looked at the collective faces of his staff. The room felt colder as the gravity of his words sank in.
"There is one final factor that makes Kinji Hakari a statistical impossibility," Nezu said, his voice dropping an octave. "According to the Association's records we got from using a mind reading quirk on him, and my own observations of last night's combat footage, the raw probability of his Jackpot is one in two hundred and thirty-nine. Statistically, he should be failing far more often than he succeeds."
Aizawa narrowed his eyes. "But he didn't fail last night. He hit that Jackpot while fighting three of the top heroes in the country."
"Precisely," Nezu replied. "In every recorded instance of his fights, Hakari has never gone more than thirty spins without hitting a Jackpot. According to the boy himself, going even that high is a rare occurrence for him. He treats the one in two hundred and thirty-nine odds as if they were a coin flip in his favor."
The silence in the room was absolute for a moment before Present Mic broke it with a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Thirty spins? Are you kidding me? If the odds are actually one in two hundred plus, he should be going through hundreds of cycles before he sees a single 'seven' on that screen. That's not luck. That's a glitch in reality."
"It's an anomaly," Vlad King said, his voice tight. "If he's hitting those odds that consistently, it means the Quirk isn't just manipulating probability within the domain. It's as if his own existence is biased toward a positive outcome."
All Might shifted in his chair, his sunken eyes fixed on the holographic image of Hakari's defiant face. "To have that kind of weight on your shoulders... to walk into a fight knowing you have to win a gamble just to stay alive. And then to actually win it, every single time? That isn't a blessing. That's a terrifying amount of pressure for an eighteen-year-old."
"It's the Fever he keeps talking about," Midnight mused, tapping a finger against her chin. "He doesn't just hope he wins. He expects it. He has a level of confidence that borders on the divine because, in his mind, the house never wins against him. I've seen gamblers like that before, but they usually end up broke or dead. He just ends up stronger."
Aizawa looked down at the table, his hands clenched into fists. "That's the part that bothers me. If his luck is that good, he's never had to learn how to lose. He's never had to learn how to fight when the odds are actually against him. Last night, I saw a kid who was ready to expand his domain a second time after nearly being killed. He doesn't have a backup plan. He just has a bigger bet."
"And that," Nezu said, his eyes glinting with a strange intensity, "is exactly why he needs to be here. We are not just teaching him to be a hero. We are teaching him what happens when the luck finally runs out. Because eventually, it will. And I would rather he be surrounded by peers when that happens, rather than by the Association's tactical teams."
All Might nodded slowly, though the worry didn't leave his face. "He's betting his life on a streak that shouldn't exist. It's impressive, yes. But it's also the most dangerous thing I've ever heard of."
"He's a miracle of bad math," Present Mic added, still shaking his head. "Thirty spins. I can't even get a gacha game to give me a rare item in thirty pulls, and this kid is playing for immortality."
Nezu stood up, signaling the end of the technical briefing. "I think it's time we see how he handles a game where the rules are written by teachers, not by a pachinko machine."
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Three miles away, in the sterile, cold offices of the Association, the reaction was far less academic. A group of men in sharp, charcoal-gray suits stood around a monitors, watching the playback of the warehouse raid.
"The report is unacceptable," one official said, his voice flat. "We have a teenager who successfully resisted three Top 10 Heroes for over twenty minutes. He is a vigilante at best and a potential high-level threat at worst."
"Principal Nezu has already filed the paperwork for Special Enrollment," a younger assistant said, holding a tablet. "He's claiming the boy's Quirk is a variant of 'Probability Manipulation' and that he requires a controlled environment to stabilize his output."
The official scoffed. "Idle Death Gamble. The name itself is a liability. If the public hears we have a student at U.A. whose Quirk is literally called a death gamble, the stock prices for hero agencies will plummet. If he goes to U.A., the name is the first thing to go. We'll register it as 'Jackpot Variance.' It sounds like a math Quirk. It's safer."
"What about the fighting ring?" another voice asked. "He was profiting off unlicensed combat."
"Nezu is handling the legal fallout," the official replied. "But make no mistake. We will have eyes on him. If his 'Fever' turns into a fire, we will shut him down. U.A. is his last chance, not a reward."
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The holding cell at the Association's high-security detention center was a small, white box. There were no windows, only a heavy steel door and a single fluorescent light that hummed at a frequency designed to be annoying.
Kinji Hakari sat on the edge of the hard cot, his hands in heavy, Quirk-suppressing cuffs that were bolted to the floor. He didn't look like a man who was facing ten years in prison. He looked like a man who was bored by the decor. His hair was still a mess, and his shirt was torn from Mirko's kicks, but the defiant spark in his eyes hadn't faded.
The door hissed open. Nezu walked in, his paws tucked behind his back. He didn't say anything at first, simply walking to the center of the room and looking up at the eighteen-year-old.
"The hum of the light is roughly sixty hertz," Nezu said. "It's meant to prevent sleep and induce anxiety. How are you finding it?"
Hakari leaned back against the wall, his chains rattling. "It's missing a beat. If you're going to torture someone, at least give it a rhythm I can bet on."
Nezu chuckled. "You truly are obsessed with the gamble, aren't you, Mr. Hakari?"
"It's all there is," Hakari said, his voice a low rasp. "You get born into a world you didn't choose, with a power you didn't ask for. The only thing you actually own is the choice of where you put your chips. Last night, I put them on the house. The house cheated."
"The house didn't cheat," Nezu said softly. "It simply used a more efficient system. Mr. Aizawa's Quirk is a direct counter to yours, yes. But that is the beauty of a gamble. There is always a variable you didn't account for."
Nezu stepped closer, his expression becoming serious. "The Association wants to send you to a facility where you will never see the sun again. They find your Quirk 'Idle Death Gamble' to be a stain on the heroic image. They see your fight club as a breeding ground for criminals."
"They're not wrong," Hakari said with a shrug. "But those criminals had more Fever in their pinky fingers than those suits have in their whole bodies."
"I agree," Nezu said, shocking Hakari into silence. "Passion is a rare commodity these days. That is why I am offering you a deal. I have secured a Special Enrollment for you at U.A. High. You will join Class 1-A as an eighteen-year-old student. You will be under my personal supervision."
Hakari looked at the mouse-like creature with a deep suspicion. "You're serious. You want a gambling addict with a sandpaper soul to sit in a desk and do homework?"
"I want you to be a hero," Nezu said. "But on your own terms. However, there are conditions. You will stop the illegal rings. You will follow the school's schedule. And most importantly, we are renaming your Quirk for the public registry. From now on, your Quirk is officially 'Jackpot Variance.' It's the only way the Association would sign the release."
Hakari made a disgusted face. "Jackpot Variance? That sounds like a tax return. It's garbage."
"It is a disguise," Nezu corrected. "What you call it in the heat of battle is your business. But on paper, you are a student of probability. Do we have a deal, Kinji? Or would you prefer to see if you can hit a jackpot in a concrete box for the next decade?"
Hakari looked at the cuffs on his wrists. He thought about the warehouse, the music, and the way Mirko had looked at him before the lights went out. He thought about the kids he'd be going to school with—babies, compared to the people he usually dealt with.
"Fine," Hakari said, standing up as much as the chains would allow. "I'll go to your school. But don't expect me to start acting like a saint. If the Fever isn't there, I'm gone. Deal?"
"Deal," Nezu said, and for the first time, a truly predatory grin appeared on the Principal's face. "Welcome to U.A. High, Mr. Hakari. I hope you're ready to play for much higher stakes."