Ultra Responsibility (My Hero Academia X Spider-Man Reader)

Issue 23 - Q.U.I.R.K.

Test number 21 felt like one of those numbers that should come with a warning label. Like: If this goes wrong, do not stand within three metres of anything with a spine.

I stood by the power box with my hand hovering over the kill switch, elbow locked, eyes glued to Otto's setup. He'd asked me to be "ready for any failures again," which was polite genius-speak for please be prepared to save my life if my invention decides to become a ceiling fan made of knives.

Otto rolled his shoulders like he was about to step into a boxing ring, not a lab. The prototype arms loomed behind him, metal vertebrae and joints catching the workshop lights.

"Recording?" he asked.

I held my phone up and nodded. "Recording. And I'm on 'don't die' duty."

He smirked, tugged his yellow gloves tighter, and tapped the inhibitor chip at his neck like a talisman. "Beginning test twenty-one. Project Omega."

The arms whirred.

Not the angry kind of whir. This was... smooth. Controlled. Like a machine, finally understood it wasn't supposed to eat its creator.

Otto inhaled, focused, and the arms moved.

One reached out, plucked a screwdriver off the bench, and placed it neatly into a tray. Another slid a soldering iron away from the edge, as if a very stern mother had trained it. A third arm pushed a rolling table two feet to the left, perfectly straight, no wobble, no chaos.

My hand, without me even noticing, drifted away from the power switch.

Otto's eyes widened behind his goggles. He lifted a little wrench, turned it in the air, and set it down again.

Then he did it again, faster.

Tools moved as if dancing to a beat only Otto could hear. He wasn't just controlling them. He was conducting them.

"Okay..." I breathed, and I couldn't stop the grin trying to break through my face. "Okay, Doc. That's... that's clean."

Otto looked at me like he was scared to blink in case the moment shattered. "It's... stable."

"Stable," I echoed, like we were reading a miracle out loud.

Otto took a careful step forward. The arms shifted their weight behind him, adapting, balancing. One arm planted against the floor.

Then another.

And then, like the world decided to be kind for once, the arms lifted him.

Otto rose off the ground, held up by four mechanical limbs like some kind of science-fair spider god, and he threw his own arms wide, head tilting back.

"It's working!" he shouted, voice cracking with pure joy. "It finally works!"

I laughed, the sound punching out of me before I could filter it. "Otto, you did it!"

He prowled around the lab, testing movement like a kid with a brand-new bike. One arm braced on the floor and swung him sideways. Another lifted him just enough to clear a workbench. He moved with this weird, beautiful confidence, as if his body had finally found an extra set of answers.

That was when the door slammed open, and Peni burst in like she'd been fired out of a cannon.

"What did I miss?" she demanded, then froze mid-step. Her eyes went huge. "NO WAY."

Otto pivoted toward her, still elevated, arms anchoring him like a living frame. He looked ridiculous and brilliant and unstoppable all at once.

Peni made a noise that can only be described as human fireworks. "YOU DID IT! YOU ACTUALLY DID IT!"