Episode 2. Part II.

In general, despite the distracting and occasionally annoying duties like cleaning the room, I liked school. It was fun and somewhat cozy, and the colorful bustle of my young classmates amused me and made me smile. No one bothered me, and being the "Democratic Republic of Niren" suited me just fine.

Of course, none of the school assignments posed any challenges for me, but, firstly, my handwriting and pronunciation were still far from perfect, and, secondly, who said that classes in a school overlooking a large park, where kids run during breaks, would prevent me from training?

As a result, while we were hitting the books, every now and then, tiles cracked, branches broke, and even trees fell in that square (I couldn't always control my strength). Teachers, caretakers, and even the parents' committee (my parents would silently exchange glances and sigh) naturally tried to find the culprit, but as a true professional Hero, even if just a beginner, I kept silent and did not admit my guilt. I had no time to waste on your school nonsense; I needed to cultivate! Ahem... I mean, train...

At seven and a half years old, I decided that I was strong enough and began looking for a dojo to train in martial arts. Theoretically, I might have had some problems if one of the masters noticed that I wasn't learning something new but rather relearning—established stances, perfected strikes, ingrained reflexes, practiced blocks, and distancing techniques... But after some thought, I dismissed the idea: this young body had no muscle memory associated with fighting.

Moreover, Krav Maga, which possibly doesn't even exist in this world, while being a highly functional self-defense discipline, is also quite limited. It sacrifices mobility and speed in favor of maximum stability (for example, the basic stance with legs spread wide and feet turned inward, in which the fighter resembles a crab).

Given that I have no, and am unlikely to develop, any defense against the attacks of all these monsters that live here among people, speed and mobility become the top priorities. So, my old fighting style—crouching with knees bent, covering the body and head with a block, carefully feeling the ground behind with my heel—is completely unsuitable.

After a couple of weeks, I found a dojo a few blocks from home, where the master—a sturdy, mustached blond of indeterminate nationality—was teaching a dozen boys and girls a brutal mix of Muay Thai, Judo, and Karate.

I lost my trial sparring match to a stronger peer—my body's motor skills and overall physical condition were still far from ideal (of course, using quirks was strictly prohibited). But I was accepted nonetheless. And with a sigh, I began to relearn. Something familiar, yet entirely different.

***

Incidentally, I didn't notice any tendency toward gaining weight in my new body. Either that Niren hadn't immediately decided to become a hero and had let himself go, or I still had the "pigging out" phase to experience during puberty. In any case, I looked like a regular skinny kid (with pale blue hair, yep). Sullen, unsociable, and tired most of the time.

***

Two months after I turned ten, the world was shaken by the news of a devastating battle between All Might and a rather infamous and powerful villain nicknamed Toxin-Saw (yes, seriously, that's his actual name! And you can even Google the photos). After a prolonged fight, Toxin was stopped and captured. No matter how strong he was, he was no match for the Symbol of Peace. Such things happen quite often, so everything seemed fine...

But then, the oddities began, which attracted all sorts of conspiracy theorists. Some of them suggested that there had been more than one villain: firstly, the very idea that someone could put up a real fight against Hero Number One was terrifying—it's a prerequisite for a prolonged battle. Toxin was formidable, ruthless, and strong, but not that strong. Secondly, there were panicked posts online suggesting that All Might had been severely injured—with photos circulating of the battleground, which had turned into a flat desert completely soaked in blood.

Supporting this theory was the fact that the second villain (if there had been one) escaped from the scene, and that All Might himself, contrary to his usual practice, did not give an interview after the fight and disappeared somewhere.

Of course, these defeatist rumors were quickly squashed: there were no witnesses to the battle, the hero reappeared in public quite soon (within a couple of weeks), saving people as if nothing had happened, and such comments and posts were suspiciously quickly erased.

People sighed with relief, and everything returned to normal...

As for me, knowing a bit more than the others due to watching the anime in my previous life, I could only bite my lip and train, train, train... All Might hadn't fought Toxin; All Might had fought All for One—his arch-nemesis and possibly one of the first and oldest quirk users among all the people alive today.

All-for-One, also known as the man (although more likely something much more than a man) with the surname Shigaraki—which I somehow managed to remember from my previous life—was a shadowy figure. It was impossible to find any mention of such a person or of a quirk that allowed him to literally for centuries collect, steal, accumulate, combine, and even gift almost any other person's superpowers, growing stronger and more dangerous over time.

But he existed. The gray cardinal of the criminal world existed in the series and was the main threat to the civilized world, and I had no reason yet to doubt the canonical story I had once watched on an old laptop as a terminally ill invalid...

All-for-One. Sounds greedy. Yeah, there's no way he came up with that name for the quirk himself... But if not him, then who?

In any case, quirks appeared a little over two centuries ago. And All-for-One lived through that time. As I understood it, Shigaraki's longevity was also due to some quirk, probably of the regenerative type. Although if he had it, I don't understand why he couldn't restore his face in the future—smashed, by the way, in this very battle a couple of weeks ago. On the other hand, it would be foolish to assume that an endlessly powerful and cunning being like him hadn't stolen a powerful regeneration ability over decades of existence. If I were in his place, that would have been the first power I'd acquire, and I think it's extremely dangerous to consider this monster less intelligent than myself.

Apparently, this quirk (or those) is what allowed him to survive now...

And yes—the good guy All Might was indeed injured in this fight...

If you can call losing a left lung, stomach, several ribs, and undergoing a dozen surgeries an injury. And that's only what I remember from ten years ago. In the series, I think he was literally missing a chunk of his torso...

Time was running out.

The countdown to losing all of Toshinori's strength... (I can't remember the rest, and of course, I didn't find his alter ego online) - also known as All Might, the owner of the quirk "One for All," the Symbol of Peace, and the strongest hero on the planet—was already ticking. I had only a few years left... five and a half to be precise. And I was still stuck in the same place, not making any progress!

Come on, Niren, push yourself, let's go!

The dream of a lifetime is so close, just a little more to go—get into U.A. and survive! Come on! Well?! COME ON!

***

By the age of twelve, I managed to place about half a dozen markers close together—not quite in the same spot but very close, just a couple of centimeters apart.

I also learned to activate several of them simultaneously, both nearby and in different locations.

And most importantly, I managed to reduce the activation speed of the quirk to fractions of a second, literally turning two impacts—my own weak human strike and the much more powerful impact of the quirk—into one superhuman blow.

And with that, I could say I had closed a multi-year chapter of my life.

Of course, all this was with the caveat that I was in the physical form of a wiry twelve-year-old, so the result was closer to the punch of a regular trained man rather than a natural disaster like One for All. Moreover, the enhancement was directly proportional to the effort put into the trigger strike.

Nevertheless, now, if I slammed that unfortunate desk with my hand, I'd simply break it.

And… basically, in this world, I had been preparing to become a Pro Hero almost from birth. If you consider my previous life… you could say even before that.

From time to time, when I looked at myself in the mirror, I would ask myself: was it worth it?

It had been many years since I was close to anyone in any sense.

Right now, I didn't have any friends—other kids avoided the determined "genius" with the work ethic of an adult, and it's unlikely we would have found common topics to talk about anyway. Unless… heroes?

But I already kept up with all the latest news and rumors—I regularly monitored news reports, dug through forums, and as a result, constantly updated my "library" of knowledge.

Recently, the Winged Hero, the incredibly talented Hawks, seemingly out of nowhere, immediately took the twentieth spot in the hero rankings in the country and was even given responsibility for an entire district of the city. However, we kno-o-ow that he has the full support of the government apparatus behind him.

But even without such a cheat support, the well-known Rabbit Hero Miruko was successfully climbing the hero ranks.

And All Might returned from another mission in America. Once again, he defeated some powerful villain whom Captain Celebrity couldn't handle…

And my name is Niren. I am twelve biological years old, lying on the school roof under the sun and clear sky, not defeating villains, not saving people, and not working as a hero.

So why does every day of mine feel like a fight, a battle to the death? A battle where I have no choice but to give my all? A battle I lose every day?!

… but the sky doesn't answer.

And the kid with the same hair color as this sky has to find the answer himself.

At this stage, I obviously couldn't have any rivals my age in any field of education or physical training—in a few years, I was the best fighter in my dojo (in my weight class, of course, but that's without accounting for the quirk), and if training didn't take so much time, I think I would have already earned a remote degree in IT, for example.

I never really developed any hobbies, despite the universe giving me a second chance, because I relentlessly pursued my goal, regardless of obstacles and sacrifices (and how could it be otherwise? The dream of my first childhood had merged with the question of survival). Well, I guess you could say I learned a foreign language.

In general, I felt lonely and worn out.

I graduated from elementary school as an honor student in all subjects and with good recommendations. However, I was so indifferent to it that I handed over the important and honorable valedictory speech to my class president and simply skipped the ceremony, lying on the school roof, staring at the clouds…

Maybe I was just burned out?

The main thing was not to develop a full-fledged depression because then I would have to get treatment, and that could affect my chances of getting into U.A…

Due to this overwhelming melancholy, the choice of junior high (for the next three years of my life) passed completely unnoticed for me—my parents tried to ask questions, but I wasn't interested in any details. The only thing that mattered was that the diploma would be recognized when applying to U.A.

Also, I had to leave my dojo.

It's not that I considered it my home, but I had gotten used to it, and it was conveniently located… However, the master publicly declared that I was a damn genius whom he had nothing more to teach. I just grimaced in response to this wild exaggeration because that wasn't the issue—the issue was my own concerns, which I had discussed with the sensei the day before: I was enhancing strikes almost reflexively now, and striving to do so, so I was afraid of injuring sparring partners without protection.

I needed other heroes. Ones with combat quirks—defensive, enhancing, long-range attacks—and a safe, fortified place… like a training ground… that would stay intact.

But such training places aren't lying around on the streets. And I wasn't ready to hit the streets looking for villainous trouble just yet.

Of course, there are numerous hero training centers and facilities, but they're only for students of certain schools and professionals. And at my age, no one would let me in…

Another month passed in fruitless (and frankly lazy, to be honest) attempts to find such a place.

And then…

April.

The trees along the wide alley were entirely pink. The delicate and juicy sakura petals slowly floated by…

No, not like that.

The clichéd, vulgar chunks of trees, the color of raw meat, rained down underfoot and were stomped into the mud.

Now that's closer to my emotions.

Cheerful, frightened, and focused—different in general—schoolboys and schoolgirls in brand-new uniforms walked in pairs, groups, and alone toward some massive brick-shaped building… For them, if not a holiday, then certainly an Event.

I, however, felt nothing but boredom and a slight nostalgia for a Soviet September 1st ceremony.

The whole day passed in this manner—pompous opening ceremony, getting to know the school, getting to know the schedule, getting to know the teachers, getting to know, getting to know…

I was lazily cycling through the same thoughts I'd already mulled over a hundred times.

Over the past few years, I had revisited this idea many times and eventually decided not to change history as much as possible. Maybe it's selfishness. Maybe I could have warned the government, All Might, or his former sidekick about the League of Villains or All for One's plans (why not? Who knows what quirk a kid might have to see the future?), but… no.

By staying under the radar now, I would save my essentially one-time trump card of knowledge about the future for later—and I would be able to play it in the most advantageous situation. It's a one-time card because as soon as I change anything, even a small detail, the entire plot of this anime-reality might go off the rails, and as a result, there's no guarantee I'd live to see the next evening.

Although that's what I think now, in a calm setting. What will I do when I have the power to save a good person, but the right thing to do would be to run away?..

I doubt I'll run.

What kind of hero would I be then?

Ugh…

For the same reasons—trump card, preparation, paranoia—I decided to hide all information about my quirk as much as possible and give it an absolutely vague name when it's time to register (this also applies to my superhero nickname).

Moreover, considering my not entirely unsuccessful efforts to adapt my quirk for close combat, I could actually position myself as a holder of a regular strength quirk, like that of Rabbit Hero Miruko, "sugar" hero Sato who consumes sweets for a temporary boost, or the main character Midoriya in the first seasons.

That way, I'd have a hidden ace up my sleeve—not just an ace, but a whole royal flush of combat surprises for any enemy who wouldn't expect that I could be more dangerous at a distance. And I could—by this time, I had already eliminated the gap from myself in World A and could activate the quirk from at least half a kilometer away.

And all of this is very relevant—there was definitely someone in U.A. who was leaking information to All for One. There was a rat in the Academy. A rat… Hm… That's a MOUSE!

***

So there I sat.

Pensive, aloof, and solitary. Like a Shoda cosplay of a certain Shoto from one anime—not existing, however, in this world.

And then…

At the moment of the first meeting with future classmates, the world stopped with the sound of a stuck record.

I saw a young but already quite formed brunette, very pretty, with well-defined facial features...

Someone I had definitely seen in that same anime. The only one TV-show that mattered now.

It seems the canon is catching up with me.