Chapter Text
Something is wrong.
The last thing you remember, you were back behind your workplace, chatting with one of the members of your gang. Something happened, something important, but the memory dances just out of reach. Every time you try and chase it, it manages to slip away.
You decide to focus on what's around you.
You’re cradled in something soft. Arms, maybe—but that doesn’t make sense.
With great effort, you blink open your eyes and are met with the face of a woman. She looks to be in her thirties, and her expression is soft as she gazes down at you. Despite this, her brown eyes are devoid of smile wrinkles, and you can tell her face is usually set in hard lines.
"Why hello there," she coos. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion; what was with that tone of voice? You're not a puppy. You open your mouth to ask what the hell is going on, but all that comes out is a gurgle.
"Wow, you're much quieter than your sister was," The woman says.
You try to speak again, this time only succeeding in wailing. The woman grimaces. "Never mind."
Even as your wails pierce the air your mind is racing. What's happening? Why is this stranger holding you as if you're her child? Why can't you speak? Suddenly, the image of your best friend comes to mind, rolling her eyes at you as she delivers a smack to the back of your head. "Get it together (Y/N), think about this logically. You take a mental breath as your outer self continues to cry. Logically. Right.
So, the most logical option in this scenario is that you are, in fact, a child. And that this woman is your mother. But how? She doesn't look like your old mother, so you can't have time-traveled or something.
"Oh, there you are," You abruptly stop wailing as the woman speaks again, not to you this time. "She won't—oh, she stopped," You blink inquisitively up at her as another face comes into view. This time a man with bright yellow-brown eyes and jet-black hair.
"A girl?" He questions. Yeah, no shit, You think, wishing you could talk.
The woman sighs, shifting you in her arms. "Yes, but we'll make due. Would you like to hold her?" The man's expression sours, and you wonder what the hell is wrong with this family. Why would they have a child in the first place?
"Kaito..." The woman sighs again at her husband's clear distaste. The man—Kaito—rolls his eyes and then you are being scooped up and into your arms.
"We're naming her Haruka." Kaito says. Not a question.
"Yes, I know," replies the woman. If they're truly married, you wonder what kind of situation she was put in to say yes. He speaks to her like his subordinate, not his wife.
Kaito brushes back a piece of wispy hair away from your face, his seemingly permanently annoyed expression softening a bit. "You're going to have an amazing quirk," he says confidently.
Wait.
Quirk?
Your breath catches, but before you can process what Kaito just said, your stupid, tiny, baby body takes your reaction as its cue to start sobbing.
"Look, you made her cry!" Your mother snaps as you try to stop the big, fat tears spilling down your cheeks through pure willpower.
"Wha—it wasn't me! She started on her own!" Kaito protests.
Their arguing voices begin to blur into background noise as your body becomes exhausted and heavy. You struggle against the tiredness, trying to stay conscious, but your vision is already fading to black, and the bonds of sleep are dragging you into darkness.
The next twenty-four hours are a blur.
You drift in and out of consciousness, caught in a haze of fluorescent lights and soft-voiced strangers. Sometimes you catch glimpses of your mother's face, and you wish you knew her name. Other times, it's Kaito's scowl that holds your attention, and still others the white-coated people murmuring things your tired brain is unable to latch onto.
Yet there is one word that you never fail to miss:
"Haru."
When you finally gain full consciousness, you're being carried out of the hospital. Birds chirp in the trees, sun streams down and even squeezing your eyes shut won't block it out. The sound of cars barreling along the road is deafening. You blink around you, disoriented, as Kaito clicks the seat belt of your little car seat into place.
Kaito gets into the front seat, with the woman, Mai, you've heard him call her, in the passenger side. You manage to shift enough to look out the window as you begin to drive.
At first glance, the city looks normal. Skyscrapers. Traffic. Too many lights.
But then you see them.
There's a person carrying too many shopping bags and reading off a small slip of paper. They have glowing teal skin.
A girl who looks to be a high school student glides by, literally, her feet inches off the ground.
A man with a dog's head is walking a toddler.
Your mind races, pulse pounding in your ears. And that's when it happens.
A man in a mask rushes out of a shop. A bag gripped tightly in his hand. A woman runs out right after, attempting to grab hold of his arm, but she is suddenly blown back as if hit by a shock wave.
"Oh no! Is that a villain attack?" Mai exclaims.
"Just our luck," Kaito mutters as if it's a minor inconvenience.
Your ears are ringing.
Villain attack?
Before you can even begin to put the pieces together, Mai's voice interrupts your spiraling thoughts.
"Oh look, a hero!"
You whip your head around so fast your neck cracks. Well, that can't be good for a newborn. You think offhandedly, but you have to see this.
Sure enough, a woman in a skin-tight red-and-gold suit has managed to get up close and personal with the villain. As you watch, small face pressed as close to the window as your carseat allows, she grabs his wrist and, with a shocking amount of strength, flips the man over her shoulder and slams him into the pavement.
The small crowd that has gathered cheers.
Kaito claps once, and even Mai smiles. But your breath is stuck in your throat, your chest constricting.
Quirks. Heroes. Villains.
You know this world.
You've watched the anime more times than is probably healthy. You've argued with your friends about power scaling and character arcs and whether Bakugou is just misunderstood or actually an asshole.
But was fiction. And this...this is completely, terrifyingly, earth-shatteringly real.
You press your tiny fingers to the window, staring through the small crowd to where the villain lies beneath the hero's boot.
And you finally let yourself think it:
You've been reborn into the world of Boku No Hero Academia.
Oh, you are so fucked.