Time flies by, and I can't afford to waste any more of it if I want to be prepared. A normal kid wouldn't be worried about the future right now, thinking there's still plenty of time—but let me tell you, before you even realize it, you're already graduating from a career you didn't want, just to make your parents proud, buried in debt, with no one to help you and no shoulder to cry on. Everyone you...
Huh. I talked too much about myself. Anyway, my time in normal school hasn't been that relevant. Like I said, I was an engineer back in my original world—even if unemployed, that didn't change much—so subjects like math or science are a piece of cake. Not to mention English; after speaking it all my life, I might as well show off a little. History's just a different version of Earth, same hatred, same racism—especially when we talk about the Great Purge.
Seeing people in flashy costumes patrolling the streets still throws me off. A bunch of guys attacking some random place for a dumb reason, just to be instantly detained. Maybe I'm just grumpy, but goddamn, this whole "hero and villain" culture is stupid.
Japan is still as strict as I remember, and the language is as tough as expected. I've gotten in trouble before for using people's first names instead of their surnames. Also, I'm not great with kids. They annoy me and then act surprised when I get angry. Still, I keep up appearances—honor student, top of the class, never in trouble.
I was hoping to see other familiar faces from canon here, but to my surprise, none showed up. Maybe this school's too low-tier for them? Who knows.
After classes, I don't go straight home. Instead, I head to an abandoned building about three blocks from my apartment. It's a three-story office facility I've used for years to train my quirk. It used to be home to a bunch of homeless people, but I scared the shit out of them with a few body modifications. Perks of having a quirk like mine.
My training—and my body—aren't normal. I can't get stronger by traditional means since I don't have muscles to train. So I work on reflexes and fighting styles instead.
Maybe I'm going overboard, but I think it's necessary. Better to pretend to be weak than to fail when it really counts.
I train by hitting cans, modifying and breaking my body to build tolerance for pain, and after a while, I start shadowboxing against a support pillar.
Remember how I said I couldn't be in multiple places at once? Well, I might have found a way—at least partially. In this building, I keep my most important project: an alternate body. It's hidden in a small compartment, an exact replica of me, though right now it's just a mannequin. I haven't figured out how to make it move yet, but once I do, I'll be able to manipulate events from multiple angles. I don't know if it'll be optimal, but I'm excited to try.
A call comes in from my mother. I don't answer—I already know what she's going to say. I pack up my things, hide the replica, and leave the building quietly.
It takes about five minutes to get home. I take off my shoes as the smell of food hits me. When I first created this body, I didn't have the five senses. But after a lot of work, I managed to artificially build them. Now, I can see, hear, and smell far more acutely than any normal person.
I pass by my mother while she cooks. I don't say anything. It's been years, and the distance between us hasn't changed. She's been drinking—I can tell. She got fired years ago, and after bouncing around for a while, she landed a job as an online HR rep. Now she takes care of my grandmother and the apartment. Honestly, I prefer things this way.
My grandmother is already seated at the table, eyes closed, resting in her special chair. I kiss her forehead so she knows I'm home.
"Where were you? Always so late... you make me worried."
"I'm sorry, Grandma. You know I have to study hard to get into UA."
"My grandson wants to be a hero... good, good. I'm proud."
She doesn't say much—it takes a lot of energy for her to even move. It's sad. I've grown genuinely fond of her. It's a shame her health declined this fast.
I sit beside her, grab my rice and small plate of meat, and start praying. Normally I'd skip it, but since she's here, I silently pray to The Wanderer. He's the one who brought me here, after all.
It'd be easier to just absorb the food with my hands, but my mother told me that was creepy and banned me from doing it in front of her. So I use the chopsticks and pretend to eat.
After about thirty minutes, I help move Grandma to her armchair, where she'll spend the rest of the day watching TV—something she loves. Then I get started on cleaning the house, until my mother stops me.
Her ponytail's still there, but she's wearing casual clothes now instead of a suit. She now smells like cigarette, so that's why she left the house for a moment
"Are you sure about applying to UA? You know we don't have the money for that…"
"That's not your problem. I want to be a hero, and I will. If money's an issue, I'll work or find another way."
"You know it's illegal for UA students to work… sigh. Why a hero? Why not study medicine like the neighbor's kid and live a normal life?"
Her tone grates on me. Look, she's not my real mom, but I've lived with her long enough to grow used to this. She named me Akuma, and now she thinks she gets to decide my future? Fuck that.
"You need to get back to work, Mother. I'm not used to talking with you about these petty things. Don't worry—I'll get into that school. And I don't plan on staying here long enough for you to ask me for rent."
My tone is sharp—maybe even hostile. We lock eyes, a silent standoff. I'm already taller than her, so after a few seconds, she looks away with a tired sigh and leaves.
I don't mind looking at her again, time is passing quickly, the next step of my plan is almost here
Time to enter the main history