Powers

"Nate, calm down, it's all right, okay? Just listen to my voice."

Somehow, when I heard her harmonious voice and felt her body heat, the light disappeared. As she wrapped me in her arms as if I were really her child, she brought me back to consciousness.

What was I thinking, losing my composure like that? Besides, what happened to my arms?

"Nate, it's okay. You can take your head off my shoulder. Hehehe, you look like a scared ostrich."

Look at what? Oh, yes...

I had my face pressed against her shoulder and my arms clutched behind her back like a small child.

"We're in your room, Nate. Hahh, sadly it ended that way, but the important thing is that you are okay."

When I raised my head to look, the first thing I noticed was the faint smell of burnt cotton floating in the air, even worse than the smell of cheese even though it wasn't as strong because it was annoying in the nose.

Then, as I fleetingly scanned the room, I found the source of the burning stench and confirmed that this was a bedroom, or well, it once was.

It was a blue room, with a green carpet in the center. A closet stood next to the bed, and at one end was a drawer full of toys. Finally, a rectangular window looked out onto another building.

All fairly normal for an ordinary child's room, although, of course, I was no ordinary child, so there was no comparison to any of my rooms.

However, the mattress, sheet and pillows that should be there were pulverized.

"Now that I see it with you in my arms, it's really amazing what you did even as a scrub, isn't it?", she said as I watched the scene with a furrowed brow.

The scene could quietly correspond to a fire.

Wait, what do you mean it was me? No, I woke up in a hospital. This was my first time here.

I looked at her without understanding her accusation.

Seeing that I didn't respond, she said, "Don't play dumb, you're the pushy little monster who's been waiting for this the longest!"

I continued without understanding her words.

Was the previous owner a miniature pyromaniac?

"The Quirk you inherited from Daddy, Nate!," with a twinkle in her eye, she said something that only planted more questions.

"Daddy"? "Quirk"? What did one have to do with the other?

As I asked myself those questions, she led me toward what would come to be my bed or what was left of it.

The burning smell intensified, but I ignored it completely because my mind enjoyed an enlightenment as I delved into my close memories.

Transmigration of souls, an unknown and strange world, people peculiar and different from how they should be, a hero named All Might who could leap superhuman heights and, therefore, superpowers.

Was "Quirk" a way of referring to superpowers in this reality...? That could make sense.

The existence of that impossibility would explain how light had emerged from my hands.

My heart began to beat harder.

"Hehehehe, I can see it on your face that you can't contain the euphoria anymore!"

Certainly, my expression had transformed into that of a lover at the sight of his great love, but I had a just reason.

The idea of possessing a superpower would open many doors of opportunity. And it wasn't simply a possibility; it was a reality I had witnessed myself.

Thump!

Thump!

Thump!

What was happening to me was similar to what any child experiences on their first sugar high: euphoria, anticipation, excitement and more.

"Hahahahaha, Nate, hahahahaha, you should see yourself, I don't remember you this happy since that tyrannosaurus rex I bought you!"

While she laughed at my expression, I was scheming in my head how to proceed with the enormous information I had just received moments ago.

All Might, Might Tower, powers, light.

Over and over again those words kept repeating in my head as I tried to focus on something concrete. My mind was moving at breakneck speed, without any brakes.

Suddenly, the words "Comics and Heroes" were projected in my mind with the typefaces that used to adorn those fanciful things that now didn't seem so far away.

I found myself transported back to one of my birthdays, specifically my sixth birthday. After the grandiose party organized by my father, Elizabeth, one of the maids in charge of taking care of me, gave me a collection of superhero comics.

Although I don't remember precisely which heroes starred in those comics, something stuck in my memory and made me move away from those stories later on.

It was the irresponsibility of the heroes and their lack of order in their own lives that disenchanted me. My father shared that sentiment and, as a result, I adopted it as well.

In addition, many of them were poor or dependent on others for survival, something I found simply unacceptable and wrong.

However, I, who had been raised properly by my father, considered it impossible to make any of those mistakes. I had stumbled once, yes, but that meant it would not happen again.

Take the example of All Might, a hero of pure muscle and ridiculous looks. Did he get a building for himself just by saving people? Respectable, but if he could pull it off, it was more than obvious that I could too, and possibly even more.

Thump!

Thump!

Thump!

The tips of my lips rose in a wild grin.