This story will only consist of Large chapters exceeding or equal to 10,000 words.
Updates are extremely Slow.
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The island shook like it was gonna split in half.
Rocks tumbled from cliffs, and the ground cracked under five-year-old me's feet.
I clung to the man who raised me, my dad not by blood but by choice.
His rough hand gripped mine, pulling me behind a boulder.
His face was pale, eyes wide, staring at the fight tearing the world apart.
"Stay down, kid," he whispered, voice shaky. "Don't move."
I peeked out, heart pounding.
Two giants were clashing in the distance—All Might and All For One.
I knew their names, not from this life but from my last one.
I wasn't supposed to be here, not in this body, not in this world.
Back on Earth, I was someone else, someone older, someone who watched TV and ate takeout.
Then I woke up here, a baby with memories that didn't fit.
This place was all quirks and chaos, and now I was stuck in the middle of the biggest fight ever.
All Might was huge, muscles like mountains, his blonde hair whipping in the wind.
His face wasn't smiling.
He looked angry, eyes burning, fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
All For One stood across from him, tall and lanky.
"You can't win, Toshinori," All For One said, voice smooth and cold.
"This world belongs to me."
All Might didn't answer.
He just charged, faster than my eyes could follow.
We were pretty far from the main city where the fight broke out but ut was still hard to miss the clash which was shaking the entire island, especially with my high-end senses.
The ground exploded where he'd been, dirt and rocks flying.
His fist slammed into All For One's chest.
All For One flew back, crashing through a cliff.
Stone shattered, dust rising like a storm.
I grabbed Dad's arm, my tiny fingers digging in.
All For One stood up from the rubble, his chest caved in but already healing.
Flesh bubbled and stitched itself back together, like some nightmare monster.
He laughed, low and ugly, and raised a hand.
Black tendrils shot out, sharp as spears, aiming for All Might.
All Might dodged.
One tendril grazed his arm, tearing a gash.
Blood dripped, bright red against his suit, but he didn't flinch.
He grabbed the tendrils, muscles bulging, and yanked.
All For One stumbled forward, and All Might drove his knee into the villain's face.
Blood sprayed, splattering the ground as almight broke all of his front teeth.
I wanted to look away, but I couldn't.
My heart was racing, my hands shaking.
This wasn't a game.
People unfotunate enough like us to not be able to evacuate were screaming in the distance, caught in the crossfire.
Fire roared from All For One's quirks, setting almost all trees on the island ablaze.
The air smelled like smoke and blood.
Dad pulled me closer, his beard scratching my cheek. "We gotta move," he said, voice tight.
"This entire island ain't safe."
But before we could run, All For One unleashed a new quirk.
His arm swelled, turning into a massive, twisted claw.
He swung it at All Might, and the air screamed, like the world was being torn apart.
All Might crossed his arms, taking the hit.
The impact sent him skidding back, boots carving trenches in the concrete.
His suit was shredded, blood running down his chest.
"You're weak just like Nana" All For One taunted, stepping forward.
"Your time's up."
All Might spat blood, wiping his mouth.
"No" he growled, voice low and dangerous.
He launched himself at All For One, grabbing the villain's arm.
His fingers dug into the flesh, sinking deep.
Blood poured, thick and dark, as All Might ripped, tearing muscle and bone.
All For One screamed, a sound that made my ears hurt.
His arm hung limp, mangled, but then it started to heal again, flesh crawling back into place.
I felt sick.
How could anyone fight that? All Might was strong, but All For One was a monster.
My chest tightened, like I couldn't breathe.
Fire was spreading closer flames licking at the rocks around us.
A man nearby who had ran with us to hide screamed as fire caught his clothes, rolling on the ground to put it out.
I wanted to help, but I was just a kid with high end senses , mostly useless.
Dad cursed under his breath, pulling me toward a cave that lead to the shore.
"Come on, we're outta here."
But then it happened.
A figure stepped out of the smoke—a man with fire in his hands, one of All For One's goons.
His eyes locked on us, and he grinned, flames flaring brighter. "Found some rats," he said, raising his hands.
Fire roared toward us, hot enough to burn my skin even from yards away.
I froze, not just my body but my whole world.
I was so scared, more scared than I'd ever been.
The fire was gonna kill us, burn us to nothing.
Dad was getting ready to use his quirk but i knew he was old too old to be able to fight effectively with his defensive quirk.
My heart pounded, and something inside me snapped.
I didn't think.
I just reached out with my tiny hands, like I could push the fire away.
And then it stopped.
The flames turned to ice, sparkling in the air.
The man's hands were frozen solid, ice creeping up his arms.
He screamed, dropping to his knees.
The alley behind him—some narrow path between cliffs—was covered in frost, like a winter storm hit it.
The fire was gone, just cold air and silence.
I stared at my hands, trembling.
What did I do? My head hurt.
Dad grabbed my hand, eyes wide.
"Kid, what was that?"
Of course he would give such reaction since my quirk is only supposed to be high end Senses.
"I—I don't know," I stammered, voice shaking.
My memories from Earth didn't help.
But I felt it instinctively, deep inside, like something woke up.
All Might's fight roared on.
He was bleeding bad now, one arm hanging loose his abdomen gutted worse than potato salad.
All For One was slower too, his face half-gone, face twisted with rage.
All Might grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground.
His fingers dug in, blood dripping between them.
He slammed All For One into a cliff, snd began punching in the face again and again, each hit shaking the island.
Rocks fell, one nearly crushing us.
All For One laughed, even as his face bled.
He unleashed a blast of wind, throwing All Might back.
The hero hit the ground hard, a crater forming under him.
All Might stood up, swaying but unbroken. "Your Era ends now," he said, voice steady.
He charged, faster than before, and threw a punch that parted the sky.
The air exploded, wind knocking me and Dad down.
All For One flew back with most of his head gone as all Might's fist crsuhed his cranium.
Dad scooped me up, running for the cave. "We're gone, kid. Now."
I looked back, All Might standing tall, blood dripping, ready to keep fighting.
The fire guy was screaming stuck with his insides frozen and cracking as he tried to break free.
...
The cave was dark, damp, and cold, the air thick with the smell of salt and stone.
Issei's tiny legs struggled to keep up so his father carried him deeper, his boots crunching against the rocky floor.
The distant roars of All Might's battle echoed faintly, muffled by the cave walls, but the ground still trembled, sending pebbles skittering around them.
Issei's high-end senses buzzed, picking up every drip of water, every groan of the island's shifting crust.
His heart pounded
His father set him down near a jagged outcrop, his rough hands immediately patting Issei's arms, legs, and face, searching for injuries.
His beard was matted with sweat and dust, his eyes wild with panic. "You hurt, Issei? Anything broken?" he asked, voice hoarse, fingers trembling as they brushed over Issei's cheeks.
"I'm okay, Dad," Issei said, his small voice shaking.
He wasn't okay—not really.
His head throbbed from the quirk he didn't understand, and the image of All For One's mangled face wouldn't leave his mind.
But his touch grounded him, made the world feel a little less dangerous.
He pulled him into a tight hug, crushing Issei against his chest.
His flannel shirt smelled of smoke and sweat, and his heartbeat thumped hard against Issei's ear. "You're safe, little one,"
He whispered, his voice breaking. "You're gonna be okay."
Issei clung to him, tiny fingers digging into his shirt.
His senses prickled, picking up a faint soind in the air, like something alive and waiting.
"Dad, this cave ain't safe," he said, pulling back to look up at him. "We meed to keep moving."
Dad's face tightened, his eyes glinting with something Issei couldn't read—fear, maybe, or resolve.
He knelt to Issei's level, hands resting on his shoulders. "I know," he said softly. "It ain't safe for me. But even if I die, nothing's gonna happen to you, little one. I promise."
Issei's eyes widened, his breath catching. "What? No, don't say that!" His voice cracked, panic rising like a tide.
Die? He was the only thing he had in this world.
The thought of losing him made Issei's heart hurt.
Before he could argue, his senses picked up —a sharp, whipping sound slicing through the air, faster than he could process.
"Watch out, Dad!" Issei yelled, shoving at Dad's chest with all his strength.
The cave wall exploded.
A sonic boom shattered the air, the force knocking Issei off his feet.
Rocks rained down, and a figure crashed through the cave's entrance, moving faster than sound.
It was All For One, his body a wreck—one leg torn off at the thigh, blood gushing from the stump, his face half-gone, one eye dangling from its socket.
His remaining limbs flailed as he skidded across the cave floor, slamming into the opposite wall with a sickening crunch.
The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing through the stone, and dust choked the air.
Issei scrambled backward, but before the debris could reach him, a shimmering green energy shield materialized around him.
It glowed like emerald fire, warm and solid, encasing him in a perfect sphere.
He pressed his hands against it, the surface humming under his palms.
"Dad?!" he shouted, voice muffled inside the shield.
He stood a few feet away, one hand outstretched, his face emotionless.
Sweat poured down his brow, and his arm trembled as the green glow pulsed from his palm.
His defensive quirk—Issei had seen it before, a weak barrier that could block small attacks, nothing like this.
It was never this large, as far as he remembered.
His eyes met Issei's, and they were calm, resolute, even as blood trickled from his head an injury from a rock hitting him.
"No!" Issei screamed, pounding on the shield as realisation set in.
"Dad, you can't! Don't leave me!" Tears streamed down his face, his tiny fists slamming uselessly against the energy.
He knew what this was—Dad was overloading his quirk, pouring everything into it, maybe more than his body could handle.
"Please, stop it! We can run together!"
He didn't answer.
He turned to face All For One, who was already stirring, his leg stump bubbling as flesh began to regenerate.
The villain's mangled face twisted into a grotesque sneer, his dangling eye locking onto him.
"Pathetic,"
The green shield flared brighter, and Issei's stomach lurched as it shot forward.
His father's smile was the last thing he saw before the shield rocketed through the cave's far exit, hurling him toward the mainland.
The world blurred—rock walls, stalactites, the ocean's shimmer—streaking past as Issei's screams echoed inside the sphere.
Issei screamed "DAD!" his voice strained, his fists pounding the unyielding energy.
The cave vanished, replaced by the churning sea below.
The shield skimmed the waves, skipping once before stabilizing, floating just above the water.
Issei collapsed inside, his sobs shaking his tiny frame.
His senses strained toward the island, catching only the distant rumble of collapsing stone and All For One's faint, guttural laugh.
His father was gone, left behind to face that monster.
The green glow flickered, dimming as the shield drifted over the endless ocean.
Issei curled into a ball, his tears soaking his sleeves.
His hands tingled, the ice quirk's cold emerging, but it felt useless.
The island faded to a smoky speck, flashes of All Might's fight sparking in the distance.
...
Ryoma stood shakily , his outstretched hand pulsing with the green glow of his quirk.
His son's screams—, desperate, soaked in despair—echoed in his ears, each one a knife to his heart.
But he didn't turn back.
He couldn't.
Not now.
Ryoma's gaze locked onto All For One, the monster stirring amidst the rubble.
The villain's mangled body was a grotesque sight—one leg a bleeding stump, his face half-gone, a single eye dangling from its socket.
Flesh bubbled and knitted together, his quirk forcing life back into his broken form and ultimately failing due to overload.
That sneer, twisted and cruel, bore into Ryoma, but he felt no fear.
Only rage, cold and sharp, burning through decades of guilt and grief.
"You took everything from me," Ryoma said, his voice low, steady, cutting through the cave's chaos.
His words weren't loud, but they carried the weight of a lifetime—of loss, of choices, of a past he'd buried but never escaped.
All For One's sneer widened, his rasping laugh grating against the stone walls.
"Everything?" he mocked, his voice like splintered glass. "You're nothing. A speck. What could I have taken from you that i already didn't have ?"
Ryoma's jaw clenched, his fists tightening.
He didn't answer.
Not with words.
His mind churned, memories flooding back, unbidden but vivid.
He'd been someone else once—a villain, a fool, a boy in love with a girl who shone too bright for his shadowed world.
Decades ago, when Ryoma was a teenager .
He was classmates with her—Maverick, Nana Shimura, the girl with a smile that could light up the darkest corners of his heart.
She was fearless, kind, everything he wasn't.
He loved her, a quiet, hopeless crush he never dared voice.
They were friends, or as close as a screw-up like him could get to someone like her.
But their paths diverged.
Ryoma failed to graduate.
His quirk wasn't enough, his grades worse.
Bitter and lost and all alone, he fell in with the wrong crowd—thugs, then worse, a gang that promised power and purpose.
He became a villain, small-time at first, his barriers shielding smugglers and enforcers.
Nana, though, soared. She became a hero.
Years later, their worlds collided again.
Ryoma's gang was busted, torn apart by a raid led by none other than Nana.
He'd been cornered, his barrier flickering under her onslaught.
She could've ended him, but she stopped.
Her eyes met his, and beneath the hero's resolve was grief—disappointment that broke something deep inside him.
She recognized his quirk, his face, the boy she'd once laughed with in school halls.
That look wasn't anger. It was pity. It was worse.
He loved her, always had, but it was never meant to be.
Nana was a star, and he was a shadow.
Her gaze shattered his illusions, forced him to see the monster he'd become.
When the cuffs snapped on his wrists, he didn't fight.
He served his time, her face burned into his memory, a reminder of the path he'd lost.
That encounter changed Ryoma.
When he got out, he swore off the villain life.
He lived simply, guiding kids out of the darkness he'd once embraced.
Street punks, runaways, wannabe thugs—he showed them a better way, using connections he'd built to steer them toward jobs, homes, hope.
It was his penance, his way of honoring the woman who'd seen something worth saving in him, even if she'd never know it.
Then he found Issei.
It was a rainy night, the kind that drowned the world in gray.
Ryoma had been cutting through an alley when he saw a woman, stabbed to death, her clothes torn, blood pooling beneath her.
Probably raped, murdered anddiscarded like trash.
His stomach churned, but what stopped his heart was the stroller tipped over in the garbage, a baby wailing inside.
Ryoma picked him up, the infant's cries softening in his arms.
He could've gone to the police, but his criminal record made that a risk—they'd pin the murder on him, no questions asked.
So he took the boy, paid old contacts to dig into the woman's past.
What he found was nothing.
No police report even when the police found her body, no missing person's file.
Just whispers of a rich family, a name erased, a life swept under the rug. Issei's mother was a ghost, and he had no one.
Ryoma raised him.
Issei became his world, his reason to keep going.
The boy's quirk were a marvel awakening at a very young age.
He wasn't his blood, but he was his son.
Now, in the cave, All For One's laugh snapped Ryoma back to the present.
The villain stood, his leg half-healed, black tendrils coiling around his hand.
"You're wasting my time," All For One said mpre cleary, his voice healed now dripping with disdain.
Ryoma's green quirk flickered in his palm.
His body ached, blood dripping from the gash on his forehead, but he didn't move.
He thought of Nana, her disappointed eyes.
He thought of Issei, his screams echoing as the shield carried him away.
He'd failed so many times, but not this one..
He knew the boy would be sad but he needed this...
Was it peak foolishness...? Yes.
But Ryoma knew he was dying anyway.
"You took her," Ryoma said, his voice steady despite the pain. "You took Nana. You broke the world she fought for. And now you're here, destroying everything else." His eyes burned, not with tears, but with a fire he hadn't felt in years. "You won't touch him."
All For One tilted his head, amused. "Nana Shimura? That weakling? She was nothing. And you—" He raised his hand, tendrils sharpening into spears. "—are less than nothing."
Ryoma smiled, small and bitter. He knew he wouldn't walk out of this.
His quirk was spent, his body failing.
But Issei was safe, speeding toward the mainland, toward a chance at life.
That was enough.
Now it was time to be selfish omce again.
Ryoma's barrier broke, fragile as glass under All For One's attack.
Faster than Ryoma could think, his clawed hand tore through Ryoma's abdomen in an instant.
Pain seared through him, white-hot and absolute, blood gushing from the wound as the villain's fingers twisted inside.
Ryoma's knees buckled, but he didn't fall.
Because Ryoma knew better.
He'd always known.
A washed-up villain, a man with a weak quirk, standing against All For One? He never stood a chance.
His barrier had been a gesture.
To pour everything he could master at close distance.
But as the world dimmed, blood pooling at his feet about to deliver his part, Ryoma saw it—oh so clearly.
A pulse, deep in his core, like a second heartbeat.
His quirk, dormant and feeble for decades, surged to life, awakening in the face of death.
Green light flared around All For One's hand, still buried in his abdomen, and Ryoma's face twisted into a snarl of pure hatred.
"You don't get to win," he growled, voice thick with blood and defiance.
In the next instant, All For One's body erupted from within.
Jagged green spikes, harder than steel, more solid than Ryoma's shields had ever been, burst from the villain's flesh.
They tore through his chest, his arms, his throat, each one glowing with emerald fury.
All For One's hand, lodged in Ryoma's gut, twisted and shredded, minced into a pulpy mess as if caught in a blender.
The villain's scream was inhuman, as his body convulsed, spikes pinning his organs, his regenerative quirk dysfunctional under the onslaught.
Ryoma staggered, the spikes holding him upright even as his vision blurred.
Blood poured from his mouth, but he smiled—a grim, satisfied curve.
He'd done better than he hoped for.
For Nana. For Issei.
For every life this psycho sack of shit destroyed.
Outside, the cave shook as a figure landed with a thunderous crash.
All Might staggered into view, his massive frame barely holding together.
His abdomen was a ruin, guts missing, blood soaking his tattered suit.
His blonde hair hung limp, his eyes burning with a will that defied death itself.
He froze, taking in the scene—All For One, incapacitated, his body a pincushion of green spikes, organs shredded, regeneration faltering as the crystalline barriers blocked his healing.
All Might's gaze flicked to Ryoma, understanding dawning.
The man was a stranger, yet his sacrifice was unmistakable.
Ryoma met his eyes, nodding faintly, his strength ebbing.
All For One twitched. "You… can't…" he rasped, blood bubbling from his ruined throat.
All Might didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward, his boots crunching on shattered stone, and seized All For One's head in his massive hand.
With a roar that shook the cave, he crushed it like a grape, bone and flesh collapsing under his grip.
The villain's body slumped, the green spikes fading.
Silence fell, broken only by the drip of blood and the distant crash of waves.
All Might swayed, his willpower finally giving way.
The realization hit—All For One was dead.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed, his broken body hitting the cave floor with a dull thud.
Ryoma's sank to the ground, blood pooling beneath him, his breath shallow.
The cave spun, but he saw Issei in his mind—his boy was safe and he had just made sure to kill All For One.
He saw Nana in his vision, her smile.
He'd failed her once, but not today.
His eyes fluttered shut, a faint smile on his lips.
He'd given everything. It was enough.
This was a good life right ...?
...
Issei lay sprawled on the beach, the coarse sand digging into his back, the salty tang of the sea heavy in the air.
The faint, earth-shaking roars from the island had stopped, leaving only the gentle lapping of waves and the distant thrum of a helicopter slicing through the night sky.
It swept over the shore before vanishing, a sign that the chaos was over.
All For One was defeated.
Issei's senses, caught no more tremors, no more screams.
The world was quiet.
He'd dragged himself here, a secluded spot along the mainland's rocky coast, after the green shield started disappearing.
It had dissolved completely a few seconds ago, leaving a minuscule ember of emerald light in his palm.
Issei clutched it tightly, even as it faded to nothing.
It wasn't warm, not really, but in his mind, it was his father's.
Ryoma's final gift, the last piece of the man who'd given everything to save him.
Issei's small hand trembled, his chest tight with grief too big for his five-year-old body.
That smile—bright, ruthless, ignoring his screams—haunted him.
Ryoma hadn't planned to survive.
He'd stayed behind, facing a monster, so Issei could live.
A sudden beam of light cut through the darkness, blinding him.
Issei squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes as a torch shone directly in his face.
A shadow loomed above—a policeman, his uniform damp from the sea spray, his face creased with concern. He crouched, the torchlight softening as he tilted it away.
"Hey," the officer said, voice gentle but edged with worry. "Are you lost?"
Issei stared up at him, his throat raw from crying, his cheeks streaked with sand and tears.
The man's question hung in the air, simple but heavy.
Lost? The word didn't begin to cover it. He'd lost his father, his anchor, the only person who made this strange, quirk-filled world feel like home.
He'd lost the life he'd known, however brief, and now he was alone again.
His lips trembled, and for a moment, he couldn't speak.
His hand tightened around the empty space where the shield's ember had been, hoping thwy would magically return.
Then, in a small, broken voice, he said, "Yeah. I am."
The policeman's face softened further, and he extended a hand.
"Come on, let's get you somewhere safe." His tone was kind, but Issei's senses picked up the strain in it—the man had seen too much tonight, just like him.
Issei didn't move at first, his gaze drifting to the dark horizon where the island smoldered, a faint glow of fire and smoke marking the end of the entire settlement that was there.
Alongside their own home too.
Slowly, he took the officer's hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet.
His legs wobbled, his body heavy with exhaustion and grief.
As the policeman led him toward a cluster of flashing lights—more officers, maybe heroes, gathering along the shore—Issei's small hand curled into a fist.
...
Four years later,
Issei sat at a desk hewring the teacher drone out.
She was explaining Japanese grammar, her chalk scratching across the blackboard as she dissected sentence structures.
Issei's eyes followed her movements, absorbing the lesson with ease.
At nine years old, his high-end senses and inhuman memory made learning trivial.
Grammar, math, history—it all stuck like glue, no effort required.
He jotted a note here and there, more out of habit than necessity, his mind drifting elsewhere.
His quirk—or quirks, plural—still baffled him.
The high-end senses were obvious, a quirk anyone could point to and name.
They let him hear the faintest whispers of classmates gossiping across the room, smell the chalk dust settling on the board, feel the subtle vibrations of footsteps in the hall.
But his memory? That was something else.
He could recall every detail of his past life on Earth—blurry flashes of TV screens, takeout boxes, a mundane existence—alongside every moment of this one.
Was it part of his senses, or a second quirk? No one had answers.
Then there was the heat conversion. Not ice, like he'd thought four years ago when he froze All For One's goon solid.
It was more dangerous, more lethal. A negative multiplier.
If something was 100 degrees hot, Issei could flip it to -100 degrees cold.
It wasn't flashy like Todoroki's ice walls or fire blasts—it was precise, deadly.
Organs frozen solid, life snuffed out in seconds.
Even All Might, in his prime, wouldn't stand a chance against that kind of power.
The thought made Issei's stomach twist.
He wasn't a killer, but his quirk didn't care.
Having two quirks—or three, if his memory counted—was unheard of, unnatural.
Only All For One had wielded multiple quirks, and Issei wasn't him.
The government knew, of course.
In their database the high-end senses were a byproduct of his ice based quirk
Gran Torino, his caretaker, knew too.
But at school Issei was just another kid, his quirks hidden under a veneer of normalcy.
No one could know how dangerous he was.
He glanced out the window, the spring sun glinting off the schoolyard.
Four years ago, he'd washed up on that beach, clutching the fading ember of his father's shield, Ryoma's sacrifice burned into his soul. .
The police had taken him to a station, and instead of an orphanage, Gran Torino had been waiting.
The old hero's gruff demeanor and sharp eyes had startled Issei, but the bigger shock was learning about Ryoma's past.
His father had been a villain once, a classmate of Nana Shimura.
Ryoma's weak defensive quirk hadn't cut it, and he'd flunked out, spiraling into crime.
Years later, After prison, Ryoma reformed, dedicating his life to guiding kids away from the criminal path he'd once walked.
Gran Torino, Nana's friend and ally, had crossed paths with Ryoma during those years.
They'd developed a mutual respect, an understanding forged in their shared connection to Nana and their desire to protect the next generation.
When Gran Torino found Ryoma's name tied to Issei at the police station, he'd stepped in.
No questions, no hesitation.
He took Issei in, raising him with a mix of tough love and quiet wisdom.
The old man wasn't soft—his training sessions left Issei bruised and breathless—but he was family now, the closest thing to a father Issei had left.
"Oi, Issei," the teacher's voice snapped him back. She stood at his desk, arms crossed. "Daydreaming again? Care to conjugate this verb for the class?"
Issei blinked, his memory supplying the answer instantly. "Taberu becomes tabemasu in polite form," he said, voice steady.
The teacher nodded, satisfied, and moved on.
A few classmates murmured, but Issei ignored them.
He still saw his father's smile in his dreams—bright, ruthless, ignoring his screams as the shield launched him to safety.
Ryoma had faced All For One, knowing he'd die.
Gran Torino had told him the story, pieced together from All Might's account.
How in his final moments, he used his quirk to tear the villain apart from the inside
Ryoma's green spikes had crippled All For One, giving All Might the chance to finish him before the hero could succumb to his own wounds.
It was a hero's end considering everything his old man lived his life for...but it didn't ease the ache in Issei's chest.
The bell rang, and Issei packed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.
As he stepped into the crowded hallway, his senses picked up the chatter—kids talking about hero rankings, the latest villain takedown, U.A.'s upcoming sports festival.
He tuned it out, heading for the exit. Gran Torino would be waiting at home, probably with another grueling training session to "toughen him up."
Issei's hand brushed the small pendant around his neck, a piece of polished stone Gran Torino said Ryoma had carried.
It was one fo the few things he had left of his father since their home was torn up very badly in the fight.
The other was actually a photo album of Ryoma and a Diary.
---
Issei stepped out of the school, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the courtyard.
The chatter of his classmates faded behind him as he adjusted his backpack, his senses picking up the hum of the city—car horns, distant sirens, the rhythmic clank of construction nearby.
He was ready to head home, when a scream cut through the air.
His head snapped up.
Across the street, a man dangled from a window-cleaning crane, its cable fraying as he clung to the platform, his face pale with terror.
The crowd below gasped, phones raised to record.
A flying hero—some low-ranker in a blue cape—shot toward the man, arms outstretched, closing the distance fast.
Then it happened.
A membrane materialized in the air, right in the hero's path.
It was translucent, rippling like a heatwave, blocking the rescue.
The hero's eyes widened, too late to stop his momentum.
Issei's heart skipped.
His inhuman memory clicked, pulling up a detail from his past-life knowledge of My Hero Academia.
This was familiar—too familiar.
The falling worker, the membrane, the hero's collision.
It was the backstory of Gentle Criminal, Danjuro Tobita, the moment that branded him a villain.
A well-meaning act gone wrong, a life ruined by a single mistake.
Fear gripped Issei.
Not for himself, but for the man behind this—Danjuro, somewhere nearby, trying to help and about to lose everything.
Issei's senses scanned the crowd, locking onto a figure in a coat, his hands trembling as he focused on the membrane.
Danjuro's face was tense, eyes wide with hope and dread.
Issei couldn't let this happen.
Not when he knew what it would cost.
A sensation crept up his body, electric and familiar, like the moment four years ago when his heat conversion quirk awakened.
His fingers tingled, power surging, but a whisper from his old self—the cautious, detached adult from Earth—hissed in his mind.
This isn't your fight. It's not your problem.
The fear faded, replaced by a hollow calm.
He could walk away.
He should.
But his eyes turned back to Danjuro, to the worker screaming above, to the hero bracing for impact.
Issei's jaw clenched.
He wasn't that old self anymore.
The air around the membrane shimmered as he activated his heat conversion quirk, supercooling it in an instant.
The temperature plummeted, the membrane's elastic surface turning brittle as glass.
With a sharp crack , it shattered, fragments sparkling in the sunlight as they fell harmlessly to the ground.
The hero sailed through, unscathed, and caught the worker just before he plummeted.
The crowd erupted in cheers, phones still recording, oblivious to the near-disaster.
The worker sobbed in the hero's arms as they descended safely to the street.
Issei's senses zeroed in on Danjuro Tobita, standing frozen in the crowd. Gentle Criminal—though he won't ne that now—looked terrified, his face drained of color.
He'd expected it all to go wrong, for the hero to crash, for his quirk to ruin everything the moment his mind registered what was about to happen.
When the membrane broke, his eyes widened in confusion, darting around as if searching for the cause.
His gaze passed over Issei, but the boy was just another kid in a school uniform, unremarkable in the chaos.
Issei looked at his hand, his heart pounding.
He'd done it—changed the story, maybe saved Danjuro from his tragic path.
He expected to feel a moment of happiness or regret or anything at all from his action to save two lives today...yet he felt nothing at all.
Being a hero sure is tedious.
He turned, blending into the stream of students heading home.
"I'm trying, Dad," he muttered under his breath.
He didn't know if he'd done the right thing, or if Danjuro would still fall... there was no emotion to steer away from this thinking after all.
But he'd acted.
That was enough for today.
He may not feel intensely about wishing to be a hero but he will keep the promise and won't settle for anything less than the hero Ryoma wished to be...
As he walked, his senses caught the faint buzz of a news drone overhead, already broadcasting the rescue.
Hmm technology..sure has evolved.
---
The old warehouse reeked of rust and motor oil, its cracked concrete floor littered with dented cans and broken crates.
Sunlight streamed through shattered windows, casting jagged shadows as Issei stood in the center, his small frame tense.
Gran Torino, leaned against a rusted beam, his cane tapping the ground impatiently.
The old hero's sharp eyes shone with mischief, a stark contrast to his wrinkled face and diminutive stature.
"Alright, kid," Grandpa said, his voice gravelly but warm, like he was about to tell a bedtime story instead of put Issei through hell. "Today's about thinkin' on your feet. Your senses are sharp too sharp, if you ask me but you're still predictable.... Gotta learn to improvise, or some villain's gonna turn you into a pincushion."
Issei's face stayed serious, his dark eyes narrowing as he scanned the warehouse.
His senses scanned the surroundings, picking up the creak of metal overhead, the faint drip of water in a corner, the rhythm of Grandpa's heartbeat.
"I'm not predictable," he said, his voice flat, too mature for his age.
"I can handle it."
Grandpa snorted, twirling his cane like a kid with a toy. "Oh, big talk from the squirt who tripped over his own feet last week! C'mon, show me you're not just a brainy statue. Move!"
Before Issei could respond, Grandpa vanished in a blur, his Jet quirk propelling him across the warehouse.
This time his reaction was noticeable slower than the time with Gentle...
Did that have something to do with the sensation i felt..
A crate launched toward Issei's head, kicked with pinpoint accuracy.
Issei's senses screamed, and he ducked, the crate sailing over him to smash against a wall.
His heart raced, but his face stayed stoic, even as a childish yelp slipped out.
"H-Hey, that's not fair!"
"Fair?" Grandpa's voice echoed from above, where he perched on a rafter like a gremlin. "Villains don't send you an invite, kiddo! Improvise!"
He flicked his wrist, and a rusted pipe hurtled toward Issei's legs.
Issei jumped, his senses and intelligence combined mapping the pipe's arc.
He landed awkwardly, his nine-year-old body betraying him with a stumble.
"Stop throwing stuff!" he snapped, a whiny edge creeping into his voice.
His cheeks flushed, embarrassed by the outburst.
He was supposed to be better than this—calm, focused.
Grandpa cackled, dropping to the floor with a gust of air. "Aw, what's that? Little Issei's gettin' mad? Thought you were Mr. Serious!"
He poked Issei's forehead with his cane, grinning. "Your senses are a cheat code, but you're still a kid. Use that big brain and those powers, or I'm eatin' your dinner tonight."
Issei swatted the cane away, his serious mask cracking as he pouted. "You'd eat it anyway, Grandpa."
His voice was grumpy, but his eyes moved at maximum physically possible speed.
He felt the air shift behind him—he was moving again.
This time, Issei was ready.
He spun, his heat conversion quirk tingling in his fingers.
The air where Grandpa had been wobbled slightly as Issei supercooled it, turning the humidity into a brittle frost barrier.
Grandpa skidded to a stop, barely avoiding the icy patch, his cane slipping. "Whoa, sneaky brat!" he laughed, hopping back.
"That's more like it! But you're still too slow!"
Issei gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling. "I'm trying," he muttered, his voice low but laced with a kid's desperation.
His senses caught a faint vibration—Grandpa was circling, ready to strike. Issei's memory kicked in, recalling every dodge and counter from their past sessions.
He didn't need to see Grandpa to know where he'd hit.
As Grandpa lunged, Issei dove behind a stack of crates, his small body scraping the concrete.
He reached out, supercooling a metal pipe nearby until it cracked with frost.
With a shove, he sent it rolling into Grandpa's path.
The old hero tripped, cursing as he caught himself with a burst of Jet. "You little punk!"
Grandpa said, but his grin was wide, proud. "That's the spirit! Keep it comin'!"
Issei peeked from behind the crates, panting, his serious facade crumbling as a small, triumphant giggle escaped.
"Got you," he said, then clamped his mouth shut, embarrassed.
He wasn't supposed to act like a kid but he did from time to time..
Grandpa strolled over, leaning on his cane, his eyes softening. "You're too hard on yourself, kiddo. All that brainpower, and you forget to have fun."
He ruffled Issei's hair, ignoring the boy's half-hearted swat. "Your dad'd be proud, you know. But he'd also tell you to lighten up. Can't save the world with a permanent frown."
Issei looked away, clutching the pendant. "I'm not trying to save the world," he said quietly, his voice heavy again.
Grandpa's grin faded, replaced by a knowing look. "Yeah, I get it."
" But you're not him or snyone he aspired to be , Issei. You're you. And you're doin' fine." He tapped his cane on the ground. "Now, one more round. Try not to cry when I whoop you this time."
Issei's pout returned, a spark of childish defiance flaring. "I never cried!" he protested, but he was already moving, senses locked on Grandpa's next move.
---
Few days later
Issei slouched through the park, his sneakers kicking up gravel as he navigated the winding path.
The spring air buzzed with the energy of kids shrieking like a banshee on the playground, their laughter and squabbles grating on his nerves.
To Issei, they were hyperactive, evil little human shits—his private label for the pint-sized terrors who made living impossible.
At nine years old, carrying the mind of a man who'd been staring down middle age in another life, he felt like a stranger in their world.
Their petty dramas, their obsession with hero rankings, their endless games—none of it landed.
He was disconnected, an alien with no tether to their reality.
Grandpa had dragged him here, muttering about "gettin' some sun" and "stop brooding like an old man... that's my job"
His senses drank in the park's chaos: the squeal of a slide, the sugary stink of spilled soda, the vibration of footsteps tearing across the grass.
It was too much sometimes when he focused, but he'd learned to filter it unconsciously.
Mostly.
Emotions were the real problem for him.
Since his heat conversion quirk awakened four years ago, something had shifted.
His perspective had gone noticeably flat, monochrome, like a painting stripped of color.
His old feelings that persiwted were just as strong but new Judgements often lacked the emotional spectrum he hwd before..
He still felt them—but it was like his heart was locked behind glass, detached and cold.
Was it the quirk, rewiring him to match its deadly precision? Or was it his Earth self, the jaded adult, pulling away from a world that didn't fit?
Either way, it left him hollow, unable to connect.
He aimed for his usual refuge, a bench under a gnarled cherry tree, far from the playground's madness.
No one bugged him here. No one, except—
"Issei!" A bright voice sliced through his thoughts, and he stifled a groan.
Hope bounded toward him, her serpentine tail swaying, green scales catching the sunlight on her cheeks. Her mutant quirk made her a spectacle—slit-pupil eyes, hair that writhed like living snakes, and tiny wings tucked under her shirt.
She'd shown him those wings once, shyly lifting her shirt to reveal delicate, bat-like membranes.
Issei had just stared, tongue-tied, his social awkwardness making it painfully weird.
Hope's dad was an immigrant, her mom Japanese, and her quirk drew cruel whispers from the other kids.
They shunned her, just like they avoided Issei for his too-quiet, too-serious vibe.
So she'd glued herself to him, chattering away like they were best friends, no matter how much he tried to stay distant.
Before he could dodge, Hope launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug so tight his ribs creaked. "You're here!" she squealed, her tail curling excitedly.
Issei gasped, air squeezed from his lungs, his senses overwhelmed by her warmth and the faint floral scent of her shampoo.
"H-Hope… can't… breathe!" he wheezed, tapping her shoulder frantically.
She giggled, loosening her grip just enough for him to suck in a breath, but didn't let go entirely. "Oops, sorry! Got too excited. Grandpa dragged you out, huh? Bet he said you're too grumpy." Her grin was wide, sharp teeth glinting, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Issei squirmed free, his cheeks flushing as he straightened his clothes. "Yeah, something like that," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
His voice was flat, too mature for his age, but a childish tome slipped through, betraying his nine-year-old body.
He wished she'd leave him alone.
She never did.
Hope plopped onto the bench, patting the spot beside her. "Come on, sit! You always look like you're about to run away. What's the deal with that?"
Her tone was light, like she was talking to an old friend.
Her hair wriggled, a few strands curling.
Issei hesitated, then sat, keeping a careful distance. "I don't… like it here," he said, staring at the ground. "Too loud. Too many kids."
His words were clipped, his voice dull.
He didn't want to explain the real reason—the disconnect, the way his Earth self saw kids as chaotic gremlins, not peers.
Hope tilted her head, her tail tapping the bench.
"Yeah, kids can be jerks. They're all 'ew, snake girl' to me, so I get it. But you're not like them, Issei. You're… I dunno, different. In a good way."
She nudged his shoulder, her smile softer now. "That's why I bug you. You don't make me feel weird."
Issei's chest tightened, a faint flicker of warmth breaking through the static.
Though it died down fast, his face staying blank.
"I'm not your friend," he said, the words harsher than he meant.
She was a distraction...!
Hope's grin didn't falter. "Sure, whatever, Mr. Grumpy Pants." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a mock whisper. "You're totally my friend, you just don't wanna admit it. Classic tsundere."
She poked his cheek, giggling when he swatted her hand away.
"Stop that!" he snapped, his voice cracking into a kid's whine.
His cheeks burned, and he hated how his body kept betraying him, making him act like the age he was supposed to be.
"I don't play your stupid games, Hope. Go find someone else."
She laughed, hopping off the bench and grabbing his wrist. "Nuh-uh! . Let's play tag—you're it!" Her tail flicked, and before he could protest, she yanked him to his feet, her strength overpowering him.
His senses screamed at the contact, her warm grip jarring against his muted world.
He could've supercooled her entire hand forced her to let go, but the thought made him flinch.
He wasn't that far gone.
"Come on, slowpoke!" Hope darted toward the grassy field, her wings fluttering faintly under her shirt.
Leo cpuld hear them fluttering.
" you can't catch me!" Her laughter was bright, infectious, cutting through the park's noise.
Issei stood frozen, his serious mask cracking as a spark of childish annoyance flared.
She was so annoying.
But as she turned, waving at him with those serpentine eyes , something stirred—a faint, stubborn warmth.
He muttered, "Stupid kid body," under his breath, but his lips twitched, almost a smile.
With a huff, he took off after her, his senses tracking her every step, playing along despite himself.
Maybe she wasn't his friend.
But for now, he decided to chase Hope through the park, her laughter pulling him out of the monochrome haze.
Issei sprinted after Hope, his feet pounding the grass, his senses locked onto her every move.
Her laughter rang out, bright and wild, as she weaved through the park's open field, her serpentine tail swaying behind her.
"You're so slow, Issei!" she taunted, glancing back with a grin, her slit-pupil eyes shining in the spring sunlight.
Issei's lips twitched, he was letting her take the lead.
The monochrome haze that dulled his emotions cracked just a little, Hope's relentless energy pulling him into the moment.
He didn't want to admit it, but running with her felt… lighter.
"Gonna catch you!" he called, his voice slipping into a kid's playful tone, though he'd deny it later.
His senses picked up the shift in her steps—she was about to dodge left.
He pivoted, ready to cut her off, when Hope's foot caught on a stray root.
She yelped, stumbling forward, her tail flailing as she crashed into a group of kids near the playground's edge.
The group—three boys, loud and cocky, turned as Hope hit the ground, her hands scraping the dirt.
The boys froze, their eyes narrowing at her scales and tail.
One, a kid with a buzzcut, opened his mouth, a mean twist in his expression, ready to spit something cruel.
Issei was there in an instant, stepping between Hope and the boys.
His dark eyes locked onto the buzzcut kid.
And he simply stared him down.
It was a look that promised trouble, the kind that made you rethink your life choices.
The buzzcut kid's mouth snapped shut, his bravado crumbling.
The other boys shifted uneasily, their senses catching the faint, eerie chill that seemed to radiate from Issei.
They'd been in the sandbox with him once, months ago, when a prank gone wrong left them shivering in frost-kissed sand, their fingers numb from a "misfire" of Issei's quirk.
He hadn't meant to scare them that bad, but the lesson stuck.
They didn't mess with him now.
"Get lost," Issei said, his voice low, steady, but laced with a protective edge.
It wasn't loud, but it cut through the playground's noise like a blade.
The boys didn't argue.
They muttered something and scurried off, disappearing into the crowd of kids by the slides.
Hope pushed herself up, brushing dirt off her hands, her tail twitching irritably.
"Ugh, clumsy me," she muttered, then looked at Issei, her grin returning, softer this time. "Whoa, you scared 'em off with just a look! You're like a mini-hero."
She nudged his arm, her warmth jarring.
"Thanks, Issei. Didn't need you to, but… it was cool."
Issei's cheeks flushed, and he turned away, shoving his hands back in his pockets.
"Wasn't a big deal," he mumbled, his serious tone undercut by a kid's sulky huff.
His heart stirred, a faint warmth breaking through the static haze.
He hated how she made him feel things—annoyance, protectiveness.
Obviously no romantic feelings since he more so saw her as that one sister he always wished to have.
"Just… watch where you're going next time."
Hope laughed, unbothered by his grumpiness.
"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Tsundere. Come on, you're still it!"
She darted forward, her tail giving her a springy boost as she raced toward the open field again.
"Bet you can't catch me now!"
Issei sighed, but his senses were already tracking her, picking up the rhythm of her steps.
He took off after her, his serious mask slipping as a childish spark of fun pushed through for a brief moment.
---
The sun dipped low, painting the park in hues of orange as Issei and Hope trudged toward the ice cream shop.
Torino walking behind them.
The old hero's gruff hum mixing with the distant hum of the city.
Issei's pants was smudged with dirt from their park antics, and Hope's tail swayed lazily, her shirt slightly askew.
The air smelled of blooming flowers and exhaust, but Issei's senses zeroed in on the faint vanilla wafting from the shop ahead.
"Grandpa, you're buying, right?" Hope chirped, spinning to face Gran Torino with a wide grin, her sharp teeth catching the evening light.
She'd taken to calling him "Grandpa" months ago, ever since she and Issei started their awkward not-friendship.
With no grandparents of her own, she'd adopted Torino as easily as she'd latched onto Issei, her bubbly energy unfazed by his grizzled demeanor.
Gran Torino snorted, adjusting his scarf.
"Tch, you're a mooch, snake girl..But Fine!."
His sharp eyes softened. "You too, Issei. Pick somethin' before I change my mind."
Issei shrugged, his face set in its usual serious mask. "Doesn't matter,".
But hope just giggled at him.
He shot her a sidelong glance but didn't say anything.
The ice cream shop was a cozy hole-in-the-wall, its neon sign buzzing faintly. It sat on the corner of Hope's street, her house just behind it, a modest two-story with a sagging porch.
The three of them crowded at the counter, Hope bouncing on her toes as she ordered a double scoop of strawberry, her tail knocking a napkin dispenser over.
Issei, after a moment's hesitation, got a single scoop of chocolate, his senses allowing him to experience the taste and smell more in depth than anyone.
Gran Torino stuck with a plain vanilla cone, muttering about "fancy flavors" being a scam.
They sat on a bench outside, the shop's awning shading them from the fading sun.
Hope licked her ice cream with gusto, pink smears on her scaled cheeks, while Issei ate methodically, his spoon precise.
Gran Torino leaned back, his cone already half-gone, watching the street with slight vigilance.
"You two caused a ruckus at the park again, huh?" Grandpa said, his voice teasing but proud. "I saw how you scared off some punks, Issei. Good instincts, but don't go freezin' anyone like before."
Issei's spoon paused, his serious eyes flicking to Grandpa.
"They were gonna try to bully her," he said flatly, as if it was just fact, not heroism.
His senses caught Hope's tail twitching, her smile widening.
"My knight in grumpy armor!" Hope teased, leaning toward him, her hair writhing playfully.
"Admit it, you totally care about me." She poked his arm, ignoring his scowl.
"I don't," Issei snapped. "I just… didn't want trouble."
He wasn't her friend.
He didn't do friends.
He was just… being responsible.
Yeah, that was it.
Hope laughed, undeterred, and Gran Torino chuckled, a low, raspy sound.
"You're a lousy liar, kid," he said, finishing his cone. "Both of you, finish up. It's time to head home."
Hope's house was so close they could see her front door from the bench.
Gran Torino wiped his hands, glancing at her. "You're old enough to walk ten steps, snake girl. Safe to go on your own from here, right?"
Hope nodded, licking the last of her ice cream off her spoon. "Yup! I'm basically a pro at this." She hopped up, her tail giving a cheerful wave. "Thanks for the ice cream, Grandpa! See you tomorrow, Issei!"
Issei stood, his cone gone, his hands shoved in his pockets. "I'll make sure she gets inside," he said, his voice flat but firm, directed at Grandpa. "Crime's not zero around here. It's… the responsible thing to do."
His senses were already scanning the street—quiet, no threats, but you never knew.
He wasn't concerned.
Not at all.
Hope wasn't his friend or anything.
He was just doing what any citizen would.
Gran Torino raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "Sure, kid. Responsible. Go on, then."
Hope rolled her eyes, grabbing Issei's sleeve. "You're so serious, it's funny. Come on, let's go!"
She tugged him toward her house.
Issei followed, his face blank.
They crossed the street, Hope chattering about some hero show she'd watched, her voice filling the quiet.
Issei stayed silent, his senses tracking her steps, the creak of her gate as she pushed it open.
She turned at her doorstep, grinning. "You're such a weirdo, watching me like a bodyguard....But… thanks, Issei."
He shrugged, looking away.
"Just go inside," he muttered.
Hope laughed, waved, and slipped through the door, her tail vanishing as it closed.
Issei stood there a moment, his senses confirming the click of the lock.
Safe.
He turned back to Grandpa, who was waiting by the shop, cane tapping.
The old man didn't say anything, just nodded, and they started the walk home, the city's hum wrapping around them.
Issei's hands stayed in his pockets, his serious mask firmly in place.
=======================
10,000 words.
Lets get this to top 3 if it gets Top 1 I'll release Chapter 2
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