Sasaki Kenjiro's eyes snapped open.
The ceiling above him was cracked and yellowed, speckled with dark patches of mold near the corners. The light fixture flickered once, then died with a pop.
This was not his apartment.
"What the hell…?" he muttered, sitting up—and immediately felt something off. His limbs were too short. His body, too light. He looked down.
Tiny, pudgy hands. Kid hands.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
He scrambled out of the narrow cot, his feet slipping on the old wooden floor as he rushed toward a dusty mirror hanging crookedly on the wall.
The face that stared back at him was horrifyingly familiar, yet undeniably different.
Same black eyes. Same mop of messy hair. Same sharp nose and thick eyebrows.
But younger.
Way younger.
Round cheeks. Soft skin. Wide, innocent eyes. He looked like a cherub. A five-year-old cherub who'd gotten into a fight with a pillow and lost.
"…No. No, no, no."
He pinched his cheek. Hard.
"Ow."
Not a dream.
And that's when it clicked.
"Reincarnation?" He stared at his reflection. "Seriously? This is so cliché."
Then the memories hit—faint and fuzzy, like a movie he'd half-watched in a fever dream.
Orphanage. No parents. A dorm full of loud, smelly kids. And a world where superpowers were normal.
"Wait a damn minute…"
He turned slowly, eyes sweeping the room until they landed on the half-peeled poster tacked to the wall above a second cot.
A poster of All Might, arms crossed, smiling confidently at the viewer.
Kenjiro's jaw dropped.
"…No. Freaking. Way."
A choked laugh burst out of him, rising into hysterics. "I'm in My Hero Academia?!"
He laughed and laughed—until the giggling faded, and a cold realization set in.
"…I only watched up to Season Three."
The room was silent for a long beat.
Then he threw his tiny arms to the sky and screamed, "YOU BASTARD! WHOEVER REINCARNATED ME, SCREW YOU! I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS ENDS!"
A loud thump came from beyond the door.
"Kenjiro!" a woman's voice barked. "Stop yelling! Breakfast is ready!"
He blinked. "Mrs. Tanaka?"
The name came unbidden, as if it had always been there.
Kenjiro sighed and flopped back onto the bed. "Right. Orphan life. Joy."
---
Breakfast was… disappointing.
A bowl of rice, some miso soup, and a pickled plum. Bare minimum.
Kids filled the long wooden table, ranging from toddlers in oversized clothes to older boys with sleepy eyes and bedhead. The room buzzed with the low hum of conversation and clinking bowls.
Kenjiro sat between a boy with a runny nose and a girl who kept poking her tofu with her chopsticks like it had insulted her.
He poked at his own rice, muttering under his breath. "Okay. I'm in MHA. I'm like… four? Five? No idea what happens after Season Three. Fantastic."
He flexed his fingers. "Do I have a Quirk?"
He concentrated—and his index finger stretched. Like a rubber band.
Kenjiro froze.
"Did you just see that?" he whispered.
The girl next to him raised an eyebrow. "You do that every day."
Kenjiro blinked. "What?"
Ryo, one of the older boys, leaned over from the other side of the table. "You always mess with your Quirk in the morning, dummy. You act surprised, then get excited, and then screw it up."
Kenjiro's jaw dropped. "I've… done this before?"
"Every day for the past year." Ryo shoved a scoop of rice into his mouth. "Seriously, it's like you forget everything overnight."
Kenjiro looked down at his hand, which now seemed to be wobbling like mochi.
"Oh no way… stretchy arms? Mochi-like body?" His eyes lit up. "Wait. Am I—am I Katakuri?"
He couldn't help it. A grin split his face.
"I am so not screwed in this world."
---
Outside, the yard was small and dusty.
Rusty swings squeaked with the breeze. A sandbox had more weeds than sand. The lone tree had seen better decades.
Kenjiro stood in the middle of it all, arms out, focusing.
"Okay. Let's test this."
His arm shot forward, stretching a good ten feet before snapping back.
"YES!" He pumped his fist. "This is insane."
He concentrated again, this time molding his fingers into a long spike.
It worked—sort of. The spike was soft and wobbled like warm taffy.
"Okay, I need to work on firmness—"
Then his legs melted. Not metaphorically. They literally collapsed into a sticky, white goop.
"W-WHOA—!"
He faceplanted into the dirt with a loud splat.
Laughter bubbled from behind him.
He lifted his head (still half-moisturized mochi) to see a little girl watching him with wide eyes and a grin full of missing teeth.
"You're funny," she giggled.
He groaned, pulling himself together. "Thanks. I think."
"I'm Aiko," she said, plopping down next to him. "Your Quirk is cool."
"Thanks," he replied, brushing off the dust. "What's yours?"
She held up her hand. A small flame sparked to life in her palm.
Kenjiro whistled. "Nice. Firestarter?"
"Yup!" Aiko beamed. "I'm gonna be like Endeavor!"
Kenjiro gave her a slow look. "…Maybe shoot for someone a bit less… shouty?"
She tilted her head. "Like who?"
"All Might?"
She scrunched her nose. "He's boring."
Kenjiro laughed. "You take that back!"
She stuck out her tongue. "Make me!"
"I will! I'm the hero!"
"I'm the hero!" she snapped back.
Kenjiro crossed his arms. "My Quirk's cooler."
"Is not!"
"Is too!"
"IS NOT!"
Without a word, Kenjiro stretched his tongue and licked his own nose.
Aiko screamed. "EW! THAT'S DISGUSTING!"
Kenjiro cackled. "Victory!"
---
Later that night, as Kenjiro lay in his cot, his laughter faded.
He stared up at the cracked ceiling, fingers fiddling with the edge of his blanket.
"Okay. So. I've got Katakuri's powers. I'm four years old. I'm in MHA."
He bit his lip.
"I don't know what's coming. I don't know how the story ends. But…"
He clenched his little fists.
"I'm not going to be a background character. I'm not gonna fade into the crowd."
He turned over, eyes narrowing with a fire that hadn't burned in him since his last life.
"I'm gonna train. I'm gonna fight. And I'm gonna be a hero."
A pause.
"…And maybe beat Endeavor in a Quirk-off just to mess with Aiko."
A beat.
Then, softly—
"Whoever reincarnated me… thanks. I'm gonna make this life count."
Outside the window, the wind rustled the dying leaves of the old tree.
Tomorrow, the world would keep turning.
And Kenjiro?
He was just getting started.