Chapter Text
“[Last name], watch your step!” Your caretaker’s voice rang out in a sharp, panicked cry. Her fingers grazed the fabric of your shirt, but gravity had taken hold too quickly. By the time her hand clasped shut around the empty air, your small body was already tumbling down the steep flight of stairs, your hair lashing out violently behind you.
As per usual, you and the other kids at the orphanage had gotten a bit too carried away playing heroes— forgetting that you could not, in fact, fly.
Your head slammed against the cold, wooden floor with a sickening thud, sending a searing, white-hot pain splintering through your body. A small, pained yelp escaped your mouth as the air was forced from your lungs.
There was a cold, thick wetness spreading from the bottom of your head to the back of your neck. You tried to move, to wipe it away, but it was as if your body was no longer your own— held down by some invisible weight.
The light and noise of the room around you began to dim, like a radio station slowly drowning in static. You tried to cry out again, but the noise came out strangled. The frantic shouts of the concerned staff and children barely registered in your ears, as numbness seeped into your senses.
Was this…death?
You were drifting away, your mind swallowed up by a black void that seemed to block out everything. Every sense was being suffocated.
At least you couldn’t feel the pain anymore.
Somehow, within that void, you saw something eerily familiar. You had been here before, you realised— on the bridge between life and death. A sense of nostalgia washed over you, as the faintest of images began to materialise in your mind.
They were hard to make out at first, like crumpled old photographs you had to squint at, but still, they were unmistakable— they were memories. Your memories. From another life, where you had been somewhere else, someone else.
A scene appeared before you, this one more vivid than the others. You were standing in a hospital ward, a bouquet of tulips clutched between your shaking hands. Tears stung in the corners of your eyes and streaked down your face until you could taste the salt in your mouth.
Why were you crying? Oh…that’s right.
You looked up, struggling to stand the sight of your parents broken bodies lying limp in their beds. They were gone. The only thing keeping their hearts pumping was the mass of drips and machines they were hooked up to.
There had been a crash…and you hadn’t been there. Your mother had called you before she’d left the house, but you’d stupidly had your phone on silent. Maybe if you’d picked up, then this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t be the only one standing here.
Then, it was like a dam broke in your psyche.
Years worth of thoughts, feelings and knowledge crashed down on you like a tidal wave, sending tremors coursing through your whole body.
Images continued to flash before you— the happy days of your childhood that you’d spent goofing off with your friends, the turbulence of your teenage years, where you’d struggled to keep or form connections, and the final moments of your life, when you’d thrown yourself from the top of an overpass, unable to bear your loneliness and guilt anymore.
You weren’t just an unwanted child thrown away to rot at some orphanage. You had been [Name], a teenage girl with hopes, dreams, a whole life…until you’d ended it with the desperate dying wish that you’d tried harder— harder to reach out to people, harder to better yourself, harder to do something meaningful.
How could you have forgotten all that?
The darkness began to subside from your vision. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the bright light of the room, until you could see the worried forms of your caretakers hovering over you. They sagged in relief when you fully opened your eyes.
“Can you hear us, [Last name]?” One of them asked, bringing you up to sit. You nodded weakly, pressing your hand against your head in an attempt to dull the ache and steady your racing thoughts. When you pulled it away, you were surprised by the lack of blood. The fall had been hard— you’d heard the crack of your skull, felt the coldness of your blood against your skin.
Why wasn’t there any blood? Hell, how were you even conscious right now?
Your caretakers seemed to share in your surprise, looking down at you with eyes wide in pure bewilderment.
“[Last name’s] head is glowing!” One of the kids squealed, jumping up excitedly and pointing towards you.
“It looks like you’ve developed your Quirk,” A female caretaker smiled softly at you, helping you up. Despite still feeling dizzy, you got to your feet and immediately dashed into the bathroom.
The woman called out to you, but you slammed the door behind you and sagged against the wall. It felt as if your mind was being torn in two, struggling to adjust to the weight of two lives worth of memories.
You pushed your hand to your chest and attempted to slow your breathing. It worked, for a minute or two, until you dared to glance up at the cabinet mirror.
Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight before you. There was a faint, golden light dancing around your head, like twirling ribbons of pure starlight.
You had a Quirk.
Holy shit, you had a Quirk.
Your mouth fell open slightly as you recalled yet another aspect of your past life. You’d been so busy ruminating your previous death that you hadn’t even realised it. This world…it shouldn’t be possible…but it was the world of your favourite show. It was unmistakable.
Somehow, for some reason, fate had deemed fit to throw you into the world of My Hero Academia. You weren’t sure whether to be overjoyed or horrified by that fact.
Taking in a deep breath, you again faced your appearance in the mirror. The swirling golden light was beginning to dissipate now, along with the slight ache that still remained.
If the pain and blood from your fall were gone…did that mean you had a healing Quirk of some sort? It certainly seemed that way, though you couldn’t be sure.
You pressed your small hand against the glass, staring tentatively at your own face. A child stared back at you. You’d been a teenager when you died, but this body wasn’t even four years old. All of you just felt so…horribly mismatched.
You jumped at the sound of a knock at the door.
“[Last name], are you all right in there?” One of the caretakers called out, their voice heavy with concern.
You took a moment to steady yourself, then pushed it open.
“I’m just fine,” You lied, flashing them a reassuring smile. You were the furthest thing from fine.
•••
A few months passed since you’d regained your memories…and discovered your Quirk. You’d felt like ghost in your own skin at first— a corpse waiting for the rot to set in.
Why were you still here?
You had chosen to end things, so why would the universe send you back?
Such questions had plagued you in those months, and you’d thrown yourself wholeheartedly into your studies to avoid them.
You’d still play with the other children on occasion, but it felt different now, with the weight of your memories, so you kept mostly to yourself.
You’d been focusing mainly on biology, since that’s what your Quirk seemed to be rooted in. Though, you made sure not to neglect your other subjects either. You were an orphan with no last name or known relatives, so you needed all the advantages you could get. Maybe being considered a child prodigy could be useful. Your Quirk seemed promising too, even if you weren’t sure what exactly it was.
Initially, you’d believed that your Quirk was healing-based, perhaps similar to recovery girl’s. Unfortunately, or fortunately, that wasn’t quite the case, as you’d soon discovered when getting into a fight with one of the little boys who lived in the orphanage.
In an attempt to steal the All Might action figure you’d been playing with, he’d slapped you right across the face. In defence, you’d grabbed his wrist— only dropping it when he cried out in pain and a glaring grey light flashed before you.
You looked down at the boys wrist, seeing a patch of cracked, dead skin where you’d been holding him. A nauseating dread filled your stomach. What you’d done…it didn’t look too far off from Shigaraki’s decay. You shivered at the thought.
The caretakers quickly rushed over and you were pushed away, left to question what exactly you’d done to him and stew in your own guilt.
You looked down at the faint grey glow still lingering in your palm and, fearing the consequences of your actions, ran. Some of the caretakers called after you, but you kept going.
Once you got out the main door, you scrambled over the janky fence at the end of the garden and kept on sprinting down past the end of the street.
Even when the orphanage was far out of sight, you kept going, ignoring the wintery chill in the air and the burning pain in your calves.
After god-knows how long, your little legs finally gave out. You’d ended up tumbling over at the edge of some riverbank, slumped in a shivering heap on top of the frost-covered grass. You had no idea where you were, or how far from the orphanage you’d gotten, but you didn’t have the energy to run any further.
Your breaths came out in ragged, half-sobbing gasps and your throat felt bitterly raw, like it’d been burned and scraped by the icy wind.
You clenched your hands into fists and dug your fingernails into your palms. You’d hurt a child— and over something as stupid as a toy. God, you were pathetic.
“Hey, this is my spot.” A boyish voice came from behind you, but you didn’t raise your head to face whoever it belonged to.
The grass crunched beneath their feet as they walked closer. You were sure that you looked a mess, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.
“Why are you ignoring me?” They spoke again, and this time you begrudgingly raised your head.
It was a boy who looked to be about your age, though he was a fair bit taller. He had fluffy red hair and the most piercing sea-green eyes you’d ever seen.
He stared down at you, his face twisting in slight confusion. “You’re crying.”
Using your sleeves, you quickly wiped the tears from your eyes. “No, I’m not.” You said, shaking your head weakly.
“Nuh uh, you are, I saw!” He huffed with puffed-up cheeks, then sat down beside you. “If you’re sad..then I guess you can sit here.”
You couldn’t help but snort at that. “Thanks…aren’t you too young to be out by yourself like this?”
“What? I’m old enough to do what I want— and you’re like, the same age as me,” He muttered, crinkling his nose at you.
You opened your mouth to correct him, but then realised how stupid that would be.
“I guess so…why are you out here, though?” You asked, twisting a blade of grass between your fingers.
The boy frowned and looked out at the river. It was getting late now. The golden glow of sinking sun had begun to shimmer across the deep, midnight blue of the water.
“…I ended up hurting myself again. I always do that, and then my dad gets really mad,” He sighed, holding out his arm and pulling back the sleeve of his hoodie.
You almost gasped when you saw a bright, red burn running all the way from his palm to the inside of his elbow.
He saw the look of horror on your face and frowned, as if you were being overdramatic. “It’s not that bad. I’m used to it by now.”
You looked down at your own hand, then back to his burn. It looked so painful. You’d only tried healing yourself and plants so far, but…you had to at least try to help him. Hesitantly, you reached a single finger out towards him. “May I?”
“Uhh, sure? It’s kinda gross though, I don’t know why you wanna touch it,” He said, giving an uncertain nod.
You placed a finger against the burn and focused your mind, picturing his skin retuning to its normal shade. A golden light bloomed from your fingertip, expanding until it enveloped the boy’s arm almost completely.
He tensed up. “What are you— oh…” He trailed off, watching the redness of the burn shrink away into a muted shade of pink, and then disappearing completely.
He looked up at you in surprise and you gave him a smile. “Does it feel alright? I haven’t actually tried that on anyone before,” You said thoughtfully, pulling your hand away.
“Y-yeah…It feels normal…thank you,” He stumbled over his words slightly, looking over his arm again.
“No problem! You should be more careful, though,” You chirped, the previous hoarseness of your voice having subsided.
“But…I’ve got to push my Quirk if I want to be a hero,” He said glumly, his mouth drooping at its corners.
You paused for a moment, looking out over the light-dappled water again. His own Quirk hurt him this badly, yet he still wanted to be a hero? You weren’t sure if you were impressed or concerned.
“It’s true that heroes should push themselves…but they should also know their limits. It’s not worth going all-out today, if you end up broken tomorrow. If your Quirk hurts you when you use it a lot, then maybe you should try finding a way to work around it? Like with support items— or, one day, you could find a side-kick who can help keep your Quirk in check,” You explained, cringing a little when you realised that this was absolutely not something a three-year-old would say.
The boy seemed to perk up a little, though. His teal brightened as they met your own. “You’re pretty smart, even if you talk a little weird.”
You giggled. “Thanks. I’ve kinda been having my own Quirk-problems today.”
He blinked in surprise. “No way! Your Quirk’s so cool, though. You fixed my whole arm!” He exclaimed, clasping your hands in his own. It was like having two little heaters wrapped around your fingers. You were a little taken aback by his enthusiasm.
“I accidentally hurt someone today, though…”
“Did you say sorry?” He asked.
“What?”
“To the person you hurt…did you say sorry?” He repeated, looking at you with a puzzled expression.
You turned your gaze to the floor and shook your head, feeling a little silly. “I ran away before either of us could say anything.”
“Well, you should say sorry then. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you make a mistake,” He asserted, giving your hands a squeeze and looking a little smug.
“Mmm…You’re right. You’re pretty smart too, y’know?” You said with a small smile. It was such a simple solution, yet you hadn’t even considered it in the moment, having been too wrapped up in your own fears.
He grinned back at you. “I know. I should probably go home now, though. I don’t wanna upset my mom.”
“Yeah…me too. It’s been nice talking to you. I feel a lot better now,” You hummed.
He got to his feet, pulling you up with him.
“I feel better, too!”
You dropped his hands and dusted the grass from your joggers. “So, it looks like I’m your first save as a hero.”
His face lit up at that. “Yeah… does that mean you’re my first fan too— oh, what was your name?”
“[Name], and yeah, I guess it does,” You giggled. You were about to ask for his name, but he’d already set off running down the path.
“Thank you, [Name]! I’m gonna be the best hero there is, I promise you!” He called back to you as he sped off, waving goodbye with both arms.
You waved back with matched enthusiasm, despite the surprise his sudden departure had given you.
His small figure soon disappeared from your sight, along with the sun, which had dipped below the treelike, leaving only the faintest glow in the sky. You shivered and quickly tucked your hands into your pockets. The air had somehow become even crisper.
You took one last look over the river, then set off back towards the orphanage. Thankfully, you remembered the way back, since you’d been mostly running in a straight line.
You were still a little worried about facing your caretakers, and the boy you’d hurt, but you really did feel better now. Things felt…more in perspective— a little less dire. As far as Quirk manifestations go…yours could definitely have been a lot worse.
Who would’ve guessed that a kid would have such good emotional insight?
You only wished that you’d asked for his name.