In Marvel with Doraemon’s gadgets

Ash sat back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind was still racing from all the things he'd learned in just a few hours. He was in the Marvel universe. The real one, where superheroes existed—or at least, would exist soon enough. But right now, there were no big names, no Avengers, no Spider-Man. He chuckled to himself, remembering the realization that he was going to school with the future Spider-Man.

"Midtown High, huh? I wonder if Peter Parker's already here, or if he hasn't transferred yet," Ash muttered, his thoughts drifting. "So much for a quiet life."

He lay back, letting out a long sigh. The memories of the body he was in still felt strange, like they were someone else's thoughts invading his mind. The kid he had become had lost his parents recently. The grief, the loneliness—it was all too familiar.

That was when it hit him. This wasn't just the new Ash who had been orphaned. It was him too. In his past life, he'd been orphaned at a young age. His parents had died in a car accident, just like in this life.

"Wow," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Orphaned in both lives… that's some cruel luck."

His thoughts shifted to his old life. He was older in his past life, already a working adult. A software engineer, of all things. The job was fine, paid well enough, but it was just that—work. Nothing about it had excited him. He didn't have any real attachments. No close friends, no family. His dating life hadn't been much either. He had been single for a year by the time he died. The last girlfriend he'd had didn't work out, and he didn't even miss her much.

Thinking about it now, it was like his old life was fading away. It had been so… bland. Sure, there were things he enjoyed—movies, video games, programming—but nothing deep. No real connection to anyone or anything.

"Well, guess I'm free of all that now," he muttered, trying to push away the strange mix of nostalgia and emptiness. "This life can't be worse, right? I mean, I'm literally in a world with superheroes. That's gotta count for something."

Ash sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. The pressing question now was how he could survive in this world. He wasn't going to sit around and wait for things to happen. If he was really in the Marvel universe, things could get dangerous fast. Even though no major heroes had appeared yet, it was only a matter of time before chaos would start brewing.

"I need powers," he said aloud. "I'm not about to be the random bystander who gets squashed by some supervillain."

The problem was, he had no idea if he had any powers. This wasn't a typical transmigration story where he'd automatically get some overpowered ability. If he was just a regular guy in a superhero world, he'd be toast.

"Alright, let's see if I'm a mutant or something," Ash muttered, standing up.

He started with something simple—he tried walking up the wall. He put one foot on it, then the other, trying to defy gravity. "Come on, Spider-Man style," he whispered to himself. But, of course, nothing happened, and he nearly fell flat on his face.

"Okay, maybe not wall-crawling," he said, brushing himself off.

Next, he stared into the mirror, squinting hard, trying to see if he could shoot lasers from his eyes. Nothing. He tried again, harder this time. Still nothing.

"What about super strength?" he wondered aloud. He grabbed a nearby chair and tried lifting it above his head with one hand. It was heavy—too heavy. "Nope. Not that either."

For the next half hour, Ash went through a ridiculous list of possible powers. He tried jumping super high, using telekinesis to move objects with his mind, and even attempted to fly by jumping off the bed. None of it worked, of course. He was still just a regular guy.

After one last failed attempt to phase through the wall like Kitty Pryde, he collapsed back onto the bed, out of breath.

"Well, that was a waste of time," he groaned, rubbing his temples. "No mutant powers, no Spider-Man powers… looks like I'm just a normal guy."

But being normal in a world where gods, mutants, and aliens would soon appear wasn't good enough. He needed something. Some way to protect himself.

"Okay, think," he told himself, sitting up again. "How can I get powers?"

The first idea that popped into his head was obvious—get bitten by the same spider that gave Peter Parker his powers. But as soon as he thought it, he laughed it off. "What am I gonna do? Sneak into Oscorp and wait for the spider? Even if I did, what if it just… you know, mutated me in a bad way? Like… extra limbs or something."

He shuddered at the thought. "Yeah, no thanks. I don't want to end up with eight legs."

He drummed his fingers on the bed, thinking of other ways to get powers. "What about the super-soldier serum? I could try to find it before anyone else does."

But then he shook his head. "Nah, that's not gonna work. It's not like I have the contacts to track down a top-secret military experiment." Plus, he didn't want to end up like one of the failed experiments. The thought of turning into a grotesque version of himself was enough to push that idea out of his mind.

"What else?" he muttered. "The Iron Man suit?" He chuckled. "Yeah, right. Like I could build something like that. I barely know how to fix a toaster, let alone create a suit of armor."

He sighed, running out of ideas. Then, something clicked. "Wait… Doctor Strange. The mystic arts. There's a Sanctum Sanctorum here in New York, right?"

Ash sat up straighter, excited by the idea. "That could work. The Ancient One teaches people the mystic arts. If I could learn from her… maybe I'd have a shot at surviving here."

But as soon as the excitement hit, doubts followed. "Of course, there's a chance she could just decide I'm not worth teaching and… I don't know, finish me off." He scratched his head, frowning. "Or I could get caught in some random magical war and end up worse than when I started."

Still, compared to his other ideas, this one seemed the most promising. At least with the mystic arts, he could learn how to defend himself. And from what he remembered, the Ancient One was pretty open to teaching people—until, you know, they got too power-hungry.

"Alright, that's the plan," Ash said, standing up. "I'll find the Sanctum Sanctorum and see if I can learn magic."

He knew the Sanctum was somewhere in New York City, but he didn't know the exact address. "Guess I'll just have to look around for it. Hopefully, it's not too hard to find."

He grabbed his jacket, ready to head out. As he was about to leave the apartment, he slipped his old phone into his pocket. It was an outdated model, but it still worked fine for now. He didn't have a lot of money left, just enough to live on for a while, but he couldn't afford to be careless.

As he reached the door, he patted his pocket out of habit. That's when he noticed something was wrong. His phone—where was it?

"What the…?" Ash muttered, checking his pocket again. There was no bulge. He could've sworn he just put the phone in his pocket.

He put his hand in his pocket. No phone.

His eyes widened, and he felt around his other pockets, starting to panic. "Where the hell did it go?"

Ash stood frozen by the door, staring down at his empty pocket in disbelief.