U.A.’s support course workshop was buzzing with activity, but your focus was on one girl—Mei Hatsume. You’d heard about her before, some genius inventor with a habit of getting way too close during “experiments.”

You didn’t mind. Two could play that game.

The second you stepped into her workshop, she crashed into you at full speed. A blur of pink hair, oil-stained gloves, and zero sense of personal space.

Mei: "Ohoho! A new test subject—err, I mean, a new face! Lemme see those arms—ohh, nice biceps! How’s your pain tolerance? Can you lift over 200 pounds? Ooooh, what if we install rockets on your back—?"

She was already grabbing at your arms, squeezing muscles, tapping joints, and yanking your fingers back like she was checking your durability.