"Sleep well, my baby."
How did it end up like this?
Kirishima Eijiro, just one year old, rested his head quietly on his mother’s lap while listening to her lullaby, pondering his thoughts.
He had already spoken his first words—"Mom" and "Dad"—at just four months old, far earlier than the usual eight or nine months, an achievement that impressed his parents tremendously.
Before that, he had taken his first steps at three months and begun toddling around from five months onward—no small feats indeed.
By his first birthday, he could even hold a surprisingly fluent conversation. Although his parents lavished praise on him as a genius, Kirishima himself didn’t feel particularly gifted; still, the attention came with its own burdens.
The trouble began when he started understanding the sounds coming from the TV.
As he watched the news mention names like All Might and Endeavor, no way. Even after reincarnation, it’s a world straight out of a manga.
In his previous life, he had been so obsessed with boxing that he hardly paid attention to anime or novels. Yet if fate were to grant him reincarnation into a fictional world, couldn’t he have chosen one of peace?
Instead, Kirishima found himself born into the world of My Hero Academia—a realm he’d only glimpsed in a handful of books that his training coach had once recommended during rigorous practice sessions.
A chaotic world where villains lurked on every street corner.
Hmm. Is it really that bad?
Annoyed and indignant, he mulled over the memories of his past life as he tilted his head in puzzlement.
He remembered living in the United States, where guns were legal, and surviving a rough early life on the streets.
Though his previous life had been brutal by any standard, compared to that, his current existence still held its own dangers.
No. No, this is still worse.
Even so, he conceded that this life was still preferable to the last; after all, a gun could be taken away, but a Quirk—the unique power possessed by most people—could not, and in many ways, its potential for danger far exceeded that of any firearm.
I have to get stronger! Stronger than anyone else!
Realizing the nature of the world he now inhabited, Kirishima decided, after much thought, to continue pursuing his old goal: to become the strongest.
Unlike before, however, he now felt the need for strength with a seriousness that was almost palpable.
That, ultimately, proved to be the root of his problems.
Kirishima embarked on his training regimen with unwavering determination, even though at one year old he could do little more than frantically move his arms and legs.
While he wasn’t yet at the age to build real muscle, the constant use of his limbs was helping his nerves to spread more efficiently, gradually giving him finer control over his body.
The issue was that, having never experienced life as a baby before, Kirishima struggled to pace himself.
He pushed on relentlessly until exhaustion finally overwhelmed him, and he collapsed.
From his mother’s perspective, her little boy’s toddling was utterly endearing—and she had cheered him on as he moved about—but when she saw him refuse to rest and ultimately collapse, worry clenched her heart.
"Mom. I’m okay now. Can I train again?"
With his head still resting on her lap, Kirishima opened his bright, curious eyes and looked up at her.
Hngh. So cute!
Suppressing a sigh as she endured his imploring gaze, his mother replied in a gentle yet firm tone, "No. You already exercised for two hours today. Remember, you promised not to make me worry."
She was proud of how quickly he was growing, especially compared to his peers, yet her concern grew with each passing moment.
While most children around his age were only beginning to form simple sentences, he—not only comprehending speech but declaring his ambition to become the strongest—pushed himself far too hard.
Her supportive smile earlier, meant to encourage his innocent dreams, now warred with a gnawing dread as he continued his makeshift training until collapse.
That day, his mother reproached herself for not intervening sooner, chastising her own inexperience as a parent.
She vowed never to witness such overexertion again.
Tch. Didn’t work.
He had even attempted a few extra cute antics—gestures he wasn’t yet adept at—but they had failed to sway her decision.
The thought that at twenty-seven in his previous life he would never have resorted to such behavior was almost painful—but now, surrounded by love, he made no further attempts.
If he had been his former self, he might have been grateful for avoiding injury alone. In this life, however, he was showered with nothing but care and affection.
I don’t think I ever really lived all that well, though.
Reflecting on his past, he recognized that while he hadn’t been a criminal, he hadn’t exactly led a virtuous life either. He had merely fought through life, taking everything as it came. And now, reborn into a world with such loving parents, he felt conflicted.
Well, I’m only one year old. I’ve got plenty of time!
Convinced that he could always strive harder later, Kirishima closed his eyes to rest, exactly as his mother wished.
**
"Gyaaaah! I don’t have time!"
At three years old, Kirishima Eijiro unleashed a rapid-fire flurry of punches at an imaginary foe, his speed bordering on the terrifying.
The target in his shadowboxing changed with each bout, and today it was the blond adversary he had last encountered in his previous life.
"Die, blond!"
Though his punches were still small, each one cut through the air like a flash of lightning.
In my previous life, my jab was known as Flash!
He continued his shadowboxing routine until his phone signaled the end of a three-minute round.
"Hah."
Breathing hard, Kirishima peeled off his sweat-soaked T-shirt.
Revealed beneath were muscles that no ordinary three-year-old should possess.
His abs, sharply defined, and the well-developed serratus muscles along his ribs gave him the appearance of a miniature boxer.
Every part of his body boasted impressive development.
Yet, despite all this, Kirishima was not satisfied.
All Might... he’s incredible.
From an early age, he had been captivated by All Might’s legendary feats—first on television, and now on smartphones and computers. Though, as a boxer, he couldn’t attribute high technical finesse to All Might’s moves.
The art of martial combat had largely fallen by the wayside in a world dominated by Quirks. Even so, All Might’s attacks, though essentially massive, telegraphed haymakers, were backed by physical abilities that defied normal limits.
His explosive strength and inhuman speed generated a destructive power that no ordinary person could hope to withstand. With someone like him striding confidently through the streets, even common criminals paled in comparison.
"Still, I have to surpass him."
Even though his current world teemed with superhuman abilities—more than his previous life—Kirishima remained steadfast in his ambition to be the strongest.
The burning flame of his ambition, kindled in his past life, only grew fiercer as he beheld the overwhelming might of All Might. In his heart, he wished for a Quirk that suited close combat, one he could truly master.
Since the age of two he had embarked on grueling training sessions in this manga-like world. At three, he had even made headlines as the strongest three-year-old after hoisting a 90‑kilogram barbell. Yet the fact that his own Quirk had yet to manifest left him with mixed feelings.
It was a worry unique to someone reborn—one that an ordinary three-year-old would never fathom.
They said Quirks typically awaken after the age of four. But how long must he wait?
Although people claimed that time sped up for those who worked hard, every day still seemed unbearably long to Kirishima.
"Eiji-chan, come eat. And don’t worry too much about your Quirk—it’ll awaken in its own time. No matter how much of a genius you are, it wouldn’t be fair if your Quirk came too early, would it?"
"Yes, Mom. What’s for dinner?"
I’m not a genius...
Recently, Kirishima had begun to regret how rapidly he was maturing, fearing that he had set his parents’ hopes impossibly high.
Sure, his physical abilities dwarfed those of his peers, but he planned to get even stronger, so that wasn’t the real issue.
Moreover, in a world ripped from the pages of a shonen manga, there was no shortage of monstrous figures compared to his previous life.
The true challenge lay in his learning ability.
Being more comfortable with English than Japanese had led him to understand English videos without formal study and even read academic papers—a first misstep, in his view.
His second mistake was abandoning children’s workbooks for exercise physiology books borrowed from the library with his parents.
Of course, his parents were overjoyed, convinced that their son was a once-in-a-generation genius.
Yet, though his precociousness was merely a byproduct of having lived before, he could not exactly proclaim himself a reincarnate. Instead, Kirishima found himself trapped between pursuing studies he didn’t enjoy and meeting high expectations.
He was still young, so it wasn’t an immediate crisis, but he worried about tackling high school material that had long faded from memory, not to mention the differences between the American and Japanese school systems.
"Tonight’s dinner is curry! Sounds good, right?"
"Haha. Yes, it does sound delicious. Besides, I like anything you make, Mom!"
It’s all carbs!
Though he silently screamed in protest, Kirishima sat at the table with the obedient face of a well-behaved child.
Japanese home cooking simply didn’t pack enough meat for a kid who had spent his previous life as an athlete in America.
"Oh? Dad, when did you get home?"
"I just got here a little while ago. You were so engrossed in training, Eiji-chan, I didn’t want to disturb you. I watched you for a bit, then came in, washed up, and changed."
"Ah... I should have greeted you first. Sorry, Dad."
"No need to apologize. I love seeing you chase your dreams. You want to be a Hero—like All Might, right?"
"Yes. I want to become the strongest Hero."
Deep down, he believed that being the strongest didn’t necessarily require donning a cape, but Eijiro dutifully declared his aspiration to be a Hero.
To him, whether in his past life or this one, striving for the top left no room for turning to a life of crime—and he certainly didn’t wish to burden his wonderful parents.
"I wonder what kind of Quirk our Eiji-chan will get. You know, your dad’s Quirk gets stronger when he holds his breath, and your mom’s makes her skin turn red and toughen up when she’s startled."
"Maybe mine will turn out to be just like yours?"
As he busily scooped up curry, Kirishima offered his answer.
Even though he grumbled inwardly about the paucity of meat, his mother’s curry—one of his favorite dishes since his previous life—never failed to please him.
"Now that I think about it, Eiji-chan, do you know what day it will be exactly one week from now?"
"Let me see... October 16th... Oh! It’s my birthday!"
"That’s right. I even considered surprising you with a present without telling you, but you hardly played with the toy we gave you last year. So this year, I thought I’d ask you what you really want."
"Um... thank you. So, is anything okay?"
"Of course—just nothing too expensive, OK?"
Faced with the sudden task of choosing a birthday present, Kirishima stared at the spoon in his hand until an inspired idea struck him.
"Dad, could you please buy me some protein? The biggest container you can find, if possible."
"Sure! I’ll get you as much as you want... wait, what did you say?"
"Protein. A protein supplement."
His father rubbed his forehead in exasperation at Kirishima’s unwavering request, even after asking him again.
His mother sighed in resignation.
They adored watching their hardworking, adorable son shine—his abilities far exceeded those of any child his age—yet in moments like these, they secretly wished he’d act a little more like a child.
"Eiji-chan, if your birthday present is protein, won’t that leave you with no memorable keepsake?"
"But memories are made every day with you, Mom and Dad! Besides, if I want to get stronger faster, I need my protein,"
Although his answer left his parents both touched and dismayed at the prospect of a birthday legacy defined solely by a protein supplement, they finally conceded—after all, no parent can win against their child.
"Then this year, Eiji-chan’s birthday present is protein! And on that day, we’ll invite your friends over for a party!"
"Ahaha. A pa... rty? That’s a bit... gah! What is this!"
Kirishima, whose mental age made it difficult for him to connect with other children, awkwardly scratched his chin before bursting into a startled scream.
In that instant, his arm and hand became encased in strangely elongated, angular shapes, his fingertips sharpening disturbingly, and he ended up cutting himself.
Blood trickled down his chin.
Thus began Kirishima’s first Quirk awakening—a moment marked not only by the thrill of power but also by the spill of blood.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register