My Mangekyo Sharingan Can't Save My Hero Academia: 23 Clones And Sports Festivals 1

[U.A. DEVELOPMENT STUDIO]

“Behold!”

The declaration was so loud Yuta nearly flinched.

He had no idea what he expected when Power Loader told him another student had taken an interest in his equipment request—but this definitely wasn’t it.

Before him, on a cluttered worktable surrounded by half-finished inventions, Mei Hatsume stood proudly with both hands raised toward a bizarre contraption. It looked like someone had fused a drone, a grappling hook, and a toaster.

“This,” she announced dramatically, “is the future of support innovation! My Hatsume Special No. 109! Your training plates, reborn through the miracle of genius!”

Yuta blinked once. “…It has a propeller.”

“Not just a propeller!” she said, offended. “A carbon-fiber gyro-stabilized flight ring! It’s aerodynamic, self-propelled, and capable of remote recall!”

He frowned. “I only needed flat aluminum plates.”

“Exactly! Which is why I made them fly!”

Yuta’s eyelid twitched. “Why?”

“Because flat metal plates are boring,” she said matter-of-factly. “Nobody looks at a boring plate and says, ‘Wow, who built that masterpiece?’”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “…That wasn’t the goal.”

“It should be!” Mei said brightly. “You’re famous now, remember? The Manhole Kid! You think I’m going to let the entire internet see you at the Sports Festival holding some basic, mass-produced junk?”

“…Hold on.” Yuta’s expression soured. “You took up my request because I’m trending?”

“Exactly!” she said, nodding with shameless pride. “Think about it! You get to use the best gear ever made, and my name gets plastered across every tech article in Japan. It’s a win-win!”

‘Or a mutual disaster,’ he thought grimly.

“Wait—how did you even get permission to make this? You’re not supposed to handle other students’ requests.”

She grinned. “Oh, technically, I didn’t. The system only says Support Course students can’t submit gear requests for other people. But! It doesn’t say we can’t improve existing ones that were already approved!”

“That’s… the same thing.”

“Semantics!” she chirped. “Besides, no one else even had an approved request this year. You’re literally the only one! That makes you my perfect test case.”

Yuta exhaled slowly through his nose. “So, because I got one approved item, you decided to hijack it for a publicity stunt.”

“Exactly!” she said proudly, completely missing the sarcasm. “See? We’re already in sync!”

‘This girl’s insane,’ he thought.

Before he could respond, she picked up the device with both hands. “Alright, let’s test its autonomous flight pattern!”

“Wait—what—”

She tossed it into the air.

The machine whirred, spun, and immediately went sideways, narrowly missing Yuta’s face before smashing into a cabinet with a loud clang!

A puff of smoke rose.

Mei squinted at it, nodding thoughtfully. “Okay, maybe the directional stabilizer needs a recalibration.”

Yuta stared at the dented cabinet, deadpan. “You think?”

“That’s why we test, Manhole Kid! Science is all about failure!”

His expression darkened further. “Stop calling me that.”

Mei waved dismissively. “Details. Look, once I fix the tracking system, you’ll be—”

“HATSUME!”

The voice boomed through the lab like thunder.

Both turned as Power Loader stomped toward them, every step echoing in metallic disapproval.

He pointed straight at her. “What did I just say about modifying other students’ requests!?”

“But, sir!” she protested, holding up the half-melted drone-plate like a trophy. “I was improving it!”

“Improving it into a lawsuit!” he barked, snatching it from her hand. “Do you have any idea how much paperwork—forget it.” He turned to Yuta. “Akutami, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sorry about the chaos. She found your form and got… creative.”

“I noticed.”

Power Loader sighed heavily. “Typical. Your actual gear is over there.”

He pointed to a nearby table—where a neatly arranged set of dulled kunai, shuriken, and smooth aluminum plates waited in perfect order beside a folded cloth.

Exactly what Yuta had asked for.

Yuta looked from the polished tools to the humming death disk in Power Loader’s hand, then back at Mei.

She smiled brightly. “If you ever want to upgrade, my offer still stands!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said politely.

And never, ever accept it, his brain added.

Power Loader ignored her and handed Yuta the approved case. “Everything matches your specs. Fire-resistant cloth, dull edges, balanced weight. You’re cleared for use at the Festival.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me,” he grumbled. “Thank whatever higher power kept this lab from detonating in the last ten minutes.”

Yuta opened the case, scanning the contents. Perfect balance. Proper size. Everything clean, refined, and safe.

Finally, a sigh of relief escaped him. “This is exactly what I needed.”

“Good,” Power Loader said. “Now, Hatsume—clean up this mess. And deactivate that drone before it wakes up again.”

“It’s fine, sir! It only activates on—”

Bzzt!

The plate in his hand started to hum ominously.

“…motion,” she finished sheepishly.

Power Loader’s sigh echoed through his helmet as he held the plate at arm’s length.

Yuta took a careful step back toward the door. “I’ll, uh, leave you two to that.”

“Please do,” Power Loader said flatly.

“Come again anytime!” Mei called after him cheerfully. “Next time, I’ll build you something that flies!”

Yuta’s eye twitched. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

The door closed behind him.

For three blessed seconds, silence.

Then another explosion shook the hallway.

Yuta exhaled, adjusting the strap of his case.

‘Phase Four: Officially complete,’ he thought dryly. ‘Also: never turn your back on the Support Course.’ He started walking towards the training grounds, muttering to himself.

“U.A. is insane.”

Finally returning to the clearing, Yuta set the support case down and stretched.

The encounter with Hatsume had been… educational. Mostly in the 'don’t let her near anything important' way.

At least the gear was solid.

Simple, balanced, and built exactly to spec.

He pulled out one of the aluminum plates, testing its weight. Light. Balanced. He marked it with a small pulse of chakra and watched it hover

'This'll work.'

He set it down and sat cross-legged in the sand, letting his thoughts settle.With the support gear and his current prowess, he was pretty sure he would come out on top in the upcoming competition.

He had speed, strength, perception and Quirk down.

As for Jutsu?

The results so far spoke for themselves.

'Is there really nothing I can do?' Yuta frowned in thought.

He stared at his hands. His mind snapped back to the moment he perfected his Rasengan.

‘What am I missing?’

Then it hit him.

He’d never actually watched himself do it. Prior to  today, he had been at stage two of the Rasengan's creation, yet had completed the rest through repeated trial and error  in a matter of minutes.

The Sharingan could see chakra.

It's insight was what gave it the ability to Copy Jutsu.

Because It could accurately memorize the chakra flow, compression ratio, and movement sequence down to the smallest twitch of a muscle.

To think he had never thought to turn that gaze inward.

'I am such an idiot.'

He activated the Sharingan. The world sharpened. Chakra lines glowed faintly under his skin.

He formed the seal for Shadow Clone.

Cross.

Chakra flowed through his body—visible now, tracing pathways through his arms, his chest, pooling faintly in his core.

But it didn't split. Didn't compress. Didn't do anything.

'So the seal guides the flow... but it's not enough.'

He tried again, this time paying closer attention.

The chakra moved when he formed the seal—followed a specific route through his system—but stopped short. Like water hitting a wall.

'There's a step missing. Something the seal can't do on its own.'

Frowning, he tried again. Then again when he got no results.

He focused harder, watching the flow with surgical precision.

'What if I... force it?'

He reduced the ratio of chakra he used, compressed it tightly in his core, and formed the seal again.

The chakra surged—split—

Poof.

Smoke exploded around him.

When it cleared, Yuta froze.

Standing three feet away, staring back at him with identical wide-eyed confusion, was himself.

"...Um. Huh?"

The clone blinked. "...Um. Huh?"

They stared at each other for a long second.

‘No way.’

Yuta's brain struggled to process what he was seeing.

'I... did it?'

The clone tilted its head. "Did we just—"

"Shadow Clone," Yuta finished, voice barely above a whisper, eyes slowly gleaming with exc

itement.

"I actually pulled it off."

The clone flexed its fingers. “Feels weird.”

“Looks weird.”

Silence. Then.  

“So… what now?” Yuta paused. His face took on a pondering expression. “Honestly, .... I have no idea.”

.