- POV Insight -
The alleyways of Downtown Houston swallowed me whole, their shadows stitching themselves around my white coat like a second skin.
Neon signs flickered overhead, casting dim light over puddles of rainwater and something darker—oil probably, based on the smell.
'Thirteen Years'
The number echoed in my skull, sharp as the scent of urine and rusted metal hanging in the air.
'I've been living in this world for thirteen years. Well, this body was fifteen years old, but for me, I've been here for thirteen.'
A rat scuttled past my boot, fleeing deeper into the darkness.
'Hakuro Amago.'
The name surfaced like a ghost.
'Myold name.'
From a life that felt like a half-remembered dream.
My parents from that life had always called me an intelligent child.
Always adventuring, always seeking answers.
They had plans to send me to a school for gifted children to have my talents realized and to help society in a way they knew I could.
But that was only a dream.
An old life where I'd been a child with too many questions, but not enough time to answer them.
A life where my loving parents' laughter had warmed the sterile hospital walls as they made promises while caressing my burning forehead.
"When you're better, we'll see the National Museum of every country on the planet."
"When you're better, we'll take you to see the 7 Wonders of the World."
"When you're better, we'll go on safari trips from the vast savannah, to the secluded rainforests."
"When you're better…"
But I never got better.
At seven, I had my first brain bleed, collapsing in the middle of dinner.
By eight, my body betrayed me—frequent seizures that left me twitching on my bedroom floor.
I didn't even reach my ninth birthday when my organs became relics, my veins practically useless as they were replaced with tubes.
My audiobooks for puzzle games were replaced with the songs of machines.
They sang their monotonous lullabies while I traced the cracks in the patient room ceiling, counting down days I shouldn't have had to waste lying in a hospital.
My active mind, dulled by the mountain of meds I was forced to take.
All this effort, just for a chance of easing the pain.
'Which they never did.'
Days passed, as I watched my parents' eyes grow hollow, their hope a flickering candle.
They knew that the greatest wish I had was to experience the world, to solve any mystery that came my way.
Yet here I was, chained to my inevitable death bed.
Seeing their sorrowful eyes made a small part of me secretly wish I could just let go.
To just give in.
To let myself be consumed by rot.
To just die.
Maybe that way I could stop the anguish my parents felt from seeing their son in this state.
They could be freed from the burden I placed on them.
But I couldn't give up.
They were trying their best to help me afterall.
To fulfill what part of a normal childhood I couldn't have.
They brought me the world in pixels and pages: Zeldaquests,Ghibli forests, Mangas about a Village hidden in the leaves.
It was amazing.
And all those worlds of wonder, fantasy, and dreams, gave me hope that I had a chance.
A chance to get better.
A chance to live.
But instead, I laid down helplessly in that dreadful bed, until the bitter end.
Holding my sobbing parents' hands until the very last second.
I was confident that I had died in that bed, smelling of antiseptic, resignation, with a tinge of regret.
But when I opened my eyes, I was in this world of quirks, heroes, and villains.
I was still a child—and my body was normal, fully functional.
A body I wasn't sure how I entered.
And yet, it wasn't warmth, nor humanity that greeted me in this new life.
It was a command.
A voice—if you could call it that—hissing into my skull the moment I'd opened my eyes in this world.
"Unveil the World's Enigma."
The words felt like broken glass dragged through my mind, sharp and unrelenting.
No explanations.
No kindly doctors or tearful reunions.
Just a random, vague instruction, shoved into my small hands.
I coughed in the alley, the sound echoing in the damp, empty space.
'No blood this time.' I thought as I checked my gloves.
'No illnesses.'
Just the ache of a mind stretched too thin, trying to make sense of a question that made no sense.
Another rat ran by before it paused, its beady eyes locking onto mine.
"You're lucky," I muttered. "You don't have to solve anything."
The command was a weight I couldn't shake. A riddle I couldn't ignore.
I had tried to ignore it, and live my life the way I had wanted.
The way I had dreamed in my previous life.
But the pain it dealt to my body whenever I so much as thought of ignoring it, ensured I listened.
Made sure I Obeyed.
So for over a decade, I was stuck trying to solve this task.
But, honestly speaking, it wasn't all that tedious.
'What was the World's secret that I needed to find?'
'Why had I been chosen? Out of literally billions of people?'
'How did it bring me to this planet?'
'And why did the voice sound less like a guide, and more like a predator, waiting to devour me if I failed?'
The thrill of seeking all those answers fueled my drive.
Clak Clak Clak
I tapped the wall I passed by, my boots tapping against the floor.
The light from a nearby store sign flickered, casting jagged shadows that danced like specters.
For a moment, I thought I saw them—my Mom and Dad—their faces blurred in the shadows, their voices swallowed by the void.
"Hakuro," they said. "You've always loved puzzles, so we brought another."
I clenched my fists in frustration.
It was always a bad habit of mine.
Turning things into games.
And although I usually treated it like one, this life wasn't a game.
This wasn't a childhood story I entered.
This wasn't a normal isekai, where I would magically get an overpowered power, or system, or harem, or whatever wish-fulfillment that most people receive.
This was a world where quirks ruled, where power was everything.
And although I was no longer afflicted with a terminal illness, and one could argue I was a genius.
I wasn't exactly blessed.
Afterall…
'I'm quirkless.'
I was a ship in a storm, sailing with no wind to fill my sails.
But that wouldn't stop me.
I would follow the command from that voice, no matter the cost.
Because if it brought me here… it could also send me back.
Back to my original life.
Back to my parents.
I stepped over a cracked syringe, its needle glinting in the gloom.
From my point of view, there was one mystery that the voice could have been referring to.
The one thing that My Hero Academia never properly answered.
Quirks
I mean, I never finished the story because I was waiting for the anime to be completed.
But I was spoiled about the origin of quirks from online posts.
'All spoilers who ruin a show for others, deserve life in prison.' I muttered to myself.
According to the spoiler, the origin of quirks was a random mutation, which seemed like complete nonsense to me.
Both Science and Nature don't function in that manner.
There needed to be a proper stimulus, a proper cause, to create such a massive change in genetics.
You want to tell me that people randomly started mutating and received super powers?
Yeah….no. That makes zero sense.
Which is why I decided to pop in on so many crime scenes.
Besides the mental exercise, it helped me with analyzing quirks in general.
Which also aided me in my research, and another mystery that the show never answered.
Quirk Convergence.
The theory was constantly gnawing at the back of my mind like a ticking time bomb.
Generations of intermingling powers, quirks stacking like kindling for a bonfire to burn the entire world—fire-breathing fathers, telekinetic mothers, new children being born with literal storms in their veins.
Each generation was born stronger than the last.
And eventually it would get to the point someone could create literal nukes and inadvertently destroy the world.
I had been reading quirk studies wherever I could find, the ones buried in academic journals and encrypted lab logs.
It was rather difficult to find because they were actively being hidden by the governments around the world.
Why?
Either ignorance or deception.
Probably both.
It wouldn't be good to have people fearing the very quirks that ruled the world.
So the government made sure to hide every study regarding it.
But there was one paper I managed to find.
The one paper that coined the theory in the first place.
The one written by the Mad Doctor from the anime of MHA.
All For One's number one subordinate.
'Dr. Kyudai Garaki'
His notes were half prophecy, half blueprint for apocalypse.
"The human vessel will shatter," he'd written. "And the gods we birth will devour us."
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
A trash can lid clattered ahead, interrupting my thoughts.
I paused, listening attentively.
'Breathing. Two sets. Labored.'
Thugs, probably.
'Not worth my time.' I told myself.
I veered left, ducking beneath a fire escape tangled with ivy.
Dr. Garaki was a well known scientist, but when he published the Quirk Convergence theory, he was disowned by the scientific community, shunned, and abandoned.
Which caused him to hide away, until eventually All For One took him in.
Nowadays, the Quirk Convergence theory is associated with only being followed by cultists, fanatics, and quirk racists.
However, I knew the truth.
Quirk Convergence was an issue I might need to solve.
Partly because I was now part of this world.
And partly because it was another lead that might bring me closer to unraveling the world's hidden truth.
I would have flown to Japan, and met with Dr. Garaki to immediately start researching, but that was… suicidal.
Garaki was wrapped up in Japan's chaos—All Might, Midoriya, All For One.
It wasn't something I was interested in jumping into.
Born with no powers in this world of mutants, emitters, transformers, and much more.
I didn't like the notion of risking my life for that.
Sure, I had a keen intellect, and was ruthlessly trained by my current family to at least not die to the common thug.
But against monsters like Shigaraki or Midoriya, I would leave the battle with a broken spine at best.
Which led to my first Rule of life, Avoid Japan.
They could settle their disputes with themselves, and I can continue my own research in peace.
Rule Two, Solve the mysteries.
The voice's command morphed into a compass that I decided to follow. Willingly or unwillingly.
I'd traced missing persons with unstable quirks, dissected "accidental" explosions blamed on faulty genetics.
Each case a thread.
Each thread leading closer to…
Something.
I didn't know what, but it all had to mean something.
I knelt, scraping my finger through a streak of ash on the pavement.
It was still warm.
'Recent combustion.' I thought to myself.
My gloves tightened as I stood.
With a more alert posture, I continued on.
I turned in the alleyway again, the air reeked of rotting trash and desperation.
This was an alley the common citizen would gladly avoid.
I took this path for its solitude—far simpler to avoid the crowd when there was somewhere urgent I needed to be.
But as if to mock me—
BANG!
A thud of wood echoed behind me.
'Sigh~'
"Naturally, when there's something of importance at hand, Life insists on presenting obstacles."
"Hey, little man," a voice sneered. "Wallet. Fancy Clothes. And any valuables. Now."
I turned slowly.
The thug was a walking cliché: stained tank top, chest tattoos, and a single blade jutting from his knuckles as he threw fake punches, trying to intimidate me.
A knock-off Wolverine, only, much, much, sadder.
I glanced at his posture and saw infinite ways to knock this novice off his feet.
His stance was wide, knees bent like he'd been scrubbing floors for a decade.
But there were three flaws that screamed at me.
First, weight distribution.
He leaned too far forward, his center of gravity hovering over his toes. A stiff breeze in the right direction could topple him.
Second, his elbow flared with each swing.
His arms cut through the air in broad arcs, telegraphing every strike.
And lastly, his breathing.
It was shallow, with a mix of panicked gulps. It was his fear masked as aggression that implied his lack of resolve or commitment to actually strike me.
I gave a casual nod toward the nearest shop sign. "If you're still keen on causing trouble, my boss happens to be inside right now. It's best if we just go our separate ways."
'Hopefully I can just solve this quietly and not cause a commotion. He should leave if he thinks someone more threatening will come at him.'
He turned his head and glanced at the shop I pointed at, "Dave's Long Dog. Certified to Satisfy You in Every Way! No Matter the Gender! ;) "
"..."
Note to self.
Read shop signs before I gesture at them.
The thug snarled, not amused by my antics, and lunged at me.
Whoosh~
The blade whistled past my ear as I sidestepped, my coat flaring behind.
"C'mere, you little—" He started to say before—
Click.
My tranquilizer gun slid into my hand, sleek and cold, as I pointed it straight at his head.
His eyes widened as he froze in his spot.
"Fun fact," I said, aiming between his eyebrows.
"I synthesized this serum myself. Paralyzes the muscles in… oh, two seconds if it works. Side effects may include existential dread, rashes, and possibly death. I haven't had a chance for clinical trials."
Thwip.
The dart buried itself in his forehead.
He immediately clawed at it, wobbling. "Ywou bastard. Wha'd'you…?"
"Do you have a healing quirk too?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"I need to know if the dosage works on cellular regeneration."
"Screw… ywou…"
He managed to say before he collapsed face-first into a puddle.
"I'll take that as a no."
I knelt beside him, checking his pulse.
'Steady. That's good.Then now I can—'
"YOU BASTARD!"
BAM!
Two more figures emerged from the side building, kicking open a nearby door.
Twins by the looks of it.
The same bad ginger haircuts, with even worse parallel facial features.
Thug One cracked his knuckles, the air around his fists shimmering with heat.
"You're gonna pay for messing with our little brother!"
'Some sort of flame quirk— possibility of igniting objects on contact. Limited to the palms.'
"This is why I said having him be the bait was a bad idea."
Thug Two stretched his neck, his fingers elongating almost two meters long.
"C'mere tough guy!"
He lashed out and tried to grab me, his fingers extending like wire.
But I dodged and rolled to the left, his creepy fingers slowly making their way back to him.
'Long reach, but slow retraction.' I noted
I rose, slipping the empty tranq gun into my coat. "Gentlemen. Let's make this quick. I have a curfew to meet."
"HYAAA!"
Thug One charged first, fists blazing.
I ducked, snatching a broken broom handle from the ground.
Flaw #1, His quirk required contact. Stay out of reach.
He swung.
I pivoted, jabbing the broom handle into his knee. Hyperextension. Collapse.
"GYAH!"
He howled, stumbling from his injured leg.
I twirled the handle, smacking away his wrist that aimed for my chest.
The flaming fist grazed a nearby dumpster, igniting the trash into blazes.
"Fire hazard," I tutted, kicking him straight in his chest.
BAM! Thud!
He fell to the floor after colliding with the wall behind him.
Thug Two swung his arms wildly-
"Hmph!"
His fingers slashing through the air with his blade-like nails.
Flaw #2, His fingers took 8 seconds to retract 3 meters in the previous attempt. Bait and trap.
I stood in the same position, and he aimed without thinking.
At the last second, I veered right, and his sharp nails sunk into a wooden box hidden directly behind me.
"What the—?!" He yelled as he tried to retract his arms but couldn't.
"Gotcha." I mumbled.
I slammed down the sharp end of the broken broom handle—
"AGHHH!"
—piercing the wood straight into his hand.
"Ever heard of practice makes perfect? Your thievery is terrible for someone trying to make a living from it."
I dashed up and jumped, kneeing the thug square in the nose before he could retract his arms, knocking him out cold.
Thug One recovered, picking up a stone, setting it on fire, and hurled it like a fireball towards my back.
I picked up a nearby trash can lid, and using it like a shield—
Bonk
—deflected the projectile.
The flaming stone flew upwards, skimming a hanging power line.
Sparks rained harmlessly down onto us.
"Enough!" Thug One roared. "Once I get my hands on you and touch you, I'll burn you to—!"
But I flung the lid like a discus, smashing him square in the jaw.
He laid in a heap, groaning in pain.
I adjusted my coat, my breath still steady as I walked toward him.
"Any last words?"
Thug one spat. "You're dead… rich boy…! Once we find you—!"
I crouched, hovering just close enough to ensure he couldn't touch me.
"Rich? Please. My shoes simply cost more than your life expectancy."
BAM!
I kicked him, slamming his head onto the ground, and he collapsed unconscious beside his twin.
The alley fell silent, save for the crackle of dying flames from the dumpster, and the occasional spark of electricity from the singed wires.
'I was going to burn these later, but since there's already a fire…'
I stripped off my coat, gloves, and pants, tossing them into the blazing trash.
The white fabric blackened, curling into ash.
The white clothes that were the key characteristics to the identity known as Insight.
I tidied up my clothes that were hidden underneath my disguise.
Then I adjusted my hair to make sure it was presentable.
[MC image]
I continued walking down the murky alleyways before a sleek black car idled at the alley's mouth.
Stepping out of the vehicle, I saw Mr. Carson, my family's head butler, his peppered black and grey hair slicked back.
He stood beside it, his posture as upright and rigid as a chess piece as he waited to greet me.
"Young master Haruko," he said, bowing just deeply enough to convey respect without offending my distaste for formality.
His voice held its usual calm, but I caught the twitch of his left eyebrow, a telltale crack in his composure.
"Let's skip the fanfare like usual Carson," I replied, brushing past him to yank open the car door.
Cold leather greeted me as I sank into the backseat. "What fresh hell requires interrupting my time out?"
He slid into the driver's seat with military precision, the engine—
VROOM-VROOM!
—purring to life.
"Your parents requested your presence at the mansion." he declared as he began driving.
I snorted, tracing a finger along the window's lining.
"Ah, yes. The bi-annual reminder that I exist. How was the crime scene, they ask? Fascinating. A hero bent and twisted into a pretzel. Another reduced into literal rubble. I'd have stayed longer if your message hadn't—"
"They wish to discuss your future."
"..."
The words landed like a judge's gavel.
'Future.'
My reflection fractured in the window—a mosaic of sharp angles and shadows. I could feel Carson's gaze in the rearview mirror.
"Let me guess," I said while swirling my finger through the air.
"A European boarding school to hide me, the shameful quirkless heir? Or perhaps a strategic marriage to some oligarch's daughter? I do have quite the heritage to add to their family."
The car slowed at a red light, Carson's hands steady on the steering wheel. "Master Haruko, your parents truly care for you, I trust you understand that, don't you?"
'Care?' I nearly snorted.
The word tasted metallic in my mouth.
My thoughts briefly remembering what an actual family that 'cared' about me was like in my previous life.
"My parents care about legacy, Carson. About bloodlines. About quirks. I don't need sweet words from you to hide that fact. I don't want it either. I don't appreciate the facade that it's there."
"..."
He stayed silent.
I leaned forward, the seatbelt biting into my collarbone.
"So what's the play here, Carson? Am I to be tucked away? Disinherited? Or is this about last month's incident with the—"
"Young master."
His interruption was quiet, frayed at the edges. "They do not blame you. For anything. For being quirkless."
The admission hung between us, raw and unexpected.
Through the partition glass, I watched his shoulders sag—a rare lapse in his perfect posture.
"Then why now?" My voice came out more emotional than I'd intended. "After fifteen years of… what? Benign neglect? You know how they are Carson."
The silence was tense for the rest of the ride.
Eventually, we turned onto the estate's private road.
The iron gates loomed ahead, their spikes gleaming in the sun.
"You are not a disappointment young master." Carson finally said. "Not a bargaining chip. And not naive enough to truly believe they do not care for you. You're their son."
For three heartbeats, we stared at each other in the dim light.
Somewhere beyond the gates, a peacock screamed—Mother's prized birds wailing at the noise of the car.
Carson continued, "Do not hold ill thoughts of them. They only wish for what they believe is best for you. They did not instruct me to bring you home as some form of punishment."
I whispered to myself more than him
"Then why does this drive feel like a funeral procession?"
I didn't expect everything to be the same from my previous life.
I wasn't hoping for my family dynamic to be the same.
I just didn't like inconsistencies.
If I was worthless to the family, just let me go.
Let's sever our ties without any grudges.
If I wasn't, then give me the opportunity to contribute.
To help the family in a way I know I can.
Don't leave me at arms reach, and expect me to stay still my entire life, waiting for your instructions.
I had bigger issues to dwell on as it is.
This world was a labyrinth of mysteries, and I just had too many—
Chapter 2 - Questions to Answer
---------------------------------
Hey!
So...
How is the first chapter about the MC's personality? The next one will also expand on it, but this one was still important.
I hope you guys find the MC likable. I want it to be someone ya'll can root for and stand behind.
And I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. Given that's it's only been 2 chapters lol.
Also, any critiques about the Chapter are appreciated. I wanna be better at writing obviously.
But some compliments wouldn't hurt... (It motivates me to keep writing this for free.)