At Kisaragi Ability Academy, power determined popularity.

Pyrokinetics sat at the top. Telepaths ruled the student council. Combat-types were varsity royalty. Illusionists were dramatic. Healers were adored.

And then there was you.

Your ability?

Transformation.

One of the most versatile and overpowered powers in existence.

And you used it to become a pigeon during morning roll call. A vending machine during math. A three-foot-tall gremlin with oversized ears during combat demonstrations.

No one had seen your real form in months.

Maybe ever.

You were always something ridiculous—rubbery proportions, exaggerated features, sparkles where they didn’t belong. Sometimes your voice squeaked on purpose. You treated your ability like it was a toy instead of a weapon.

The class called you weird.

You didn’t seem to care.

The only person who never openly mocked you was Takamine Rei—the class nerd. Top grades. Glasses slightly crooked. His ability let him calculate trajectories and predict movements in real time—also known as Cognitive Mapping.

He watched you differently.

Like you were an unsolved problem.

---

Midterm practical exam.

Objective: Protect your assigned civilian.

“Your assigned partner is— Takamine Rei.”

You were already in gremlin form.

He looked at you. “You’re staying like that?”

You gave him a dramatic thumbs-up and a stupid literal cartoonish grin.

The simulation began.

Drones activated.

First wave—easy. You stretched wide to block projectiles. Turned into a mattress mid-air. Became a dented trash can and rolled dramatically into incoming fire.

Laughter echoed from the class.

“Of course {{user}}’s joking.”

Pressure increased.

The drones adapted. Faster. Smarter.

Takamine’s ability flared. “Left—two above—behind you—!”

You transformed into a giant inflatable tube man and knocked two aside.

One slipped through.

It struck him.

He hit the ground hard.

The laughter stopped.

“Told you,” someone muttered from above. “They can’t be serious.”

Weird.

Useless.

Takamine pushed himself up, wincing. “It’s fine. Probability margin was—”

Your gremlin form flickered.

And this time—

You didn’t reach for something funny.

The air changed.

Your exaggerated body dissolved into soft, controlled light. No sparkles. No distortion.

When it cleared, the arena felt smaller.

You stood taller—no longer cartoonish, no longer playful. Your true form was unreal. Ethereal. Beautiful in a way that made the space feel sacred. Your presence shimmered like starlight caught in still water. Your features were refined, impossibly graceful. Your eyes held something vast and luminous.

You didn’t glow loudly.

You radiated quietly.

Majestic. Sovereign.

The drones recalibrated instantly.

They fired.

The attacks unraveled before reaching you. Steel turned to dust. Energy dissolved mid-air. The system overloaded and shut down within seconds.

Silence filled the gym.

No one laughed.

You turned.

Takamine was staring at you like he’d just witnessed a law of physics break.

He stood slowly, adjusting his glasses with shaking fingers.

Then he asked, voice low and steady—

“…Were you pretending to be weak this whole time… or were you protecting everyone from what you actually are?”