April 1, 2253 — Musutafu City, Japan
Kurogane Estate
"Happy birthday, Hayato!"
Colorful streamers draped the spacious living room, soft music played in the background, and the warm glow of candles danced atop a small, beautifully decorated cake. A few maids and butlers stood neatly to the side, clapping politely. In the center of the room, perched in a custom-made high chair that looked way too fancy for someone who still occasionally drooled on himself, sat me — Hayato Kurogane. One year old.
My mother, Miyabi, leaned close, her dark hair falling gently over her shoulders as she held me steady. "Come on, sweetheart, blow out the candles," she coaxed gently.
I stared at the flickering flames. It still felt weird. A year ago, I was a twenty-year-old university hopeful walking down the streets of Tokyo. Now, I was a baby in what looked like the home of someone who owned half the city. The birthday hat on my head tilted slightly as I took a deep breath.
Well… when in Rome.
I puffed out my cheeks and blew. The flames went out after some surprising effort, followed by applause. My father, Ryuunosuke Kurogane, let out a deep, satisfied laugh that rumbled through the room.
The servants clapped again. Mom clapped too, eyes shining with warmth that I had never felt in my previous life. It was… strange. Nice, but strange.
The cake was cut — mostly by my parents while I watched like a ceremonial mascot — and soon after, the festivities blurred into a comfortable, almost domestic scene. My mother held me in her arms, gently rocking me while chatting with my father about guests and business schedules. I understood maybe half of what they said, but that was fine. I had more pressing things to think about.
Because one year ago, when I opened my eyes in this world, I didn't just get new parents.
I got… everything else, too.
[Flashback]
Back then, things were chaotic. I could barely move my limbs properly, let alone speak. The first few months were… humiliating. No amount of reincarnation tropes could prepare me for the reality of losing bladder control. It didn't matter that I was mentally twenty. My body was still a baby's.
There's nothing quite as humbling as pooping your pants and crying for someone else to clean it up.
But between all that, I learned things. My new father, Ryuunosuke Kurogane, was a tall, broad-shouldered man with light silver hair, sharp eyes, and the kind of presence that made even seasoned butlers stand straighter. He was the CEO and chief engineer of Kurogane Industries, a massive support equipment company. I'd often see him on holo-calls in his office — designing, analyzing, negotiating. A real genius and businessman rolled into one.
My mother, Miyabi Kurogane, was gentle, patient, and… terrifyingly beautiful. She had this aura that made the maids and butlers treat her with almost reverent respect. She was a housewife now, but the way people around her reacted told me she wasn't just "some rich man's wife." There was history there. Power, maybe. I hadn't figured it out yet.
And the mansion… well, calling it a "house" was an insult. It was huge. Dozens of rooms, corridors wide enough to drive a car through, private gardens, a training yard, a pool — and staff everywhere. Maids, butlers, bodyguards in black suits. If I cried too loud, two people would appear instantly to see what was wrong. I'd never seen any grandparents or other relatives, though. No visits, no photos in the halls. Either there was family drama… or they were dead. Either way, baby-me couldn't exactly ask.
For a while, I thought this was just some fancy alternate Japan. I had no way to confirm anything. My body limited me. My words were limited to "Mama," "Dada," "Ba," and a few clumsy gestures. I had my memories, but no answers.
Until exactly one month after my birth.
That's when everything changed.
The day had started normally. Cry. Eat. Burp. Get cleaned. Nap. Repeat. But during one of those naps, a voice echoed in my head — clear, mechanical, and calm.
[ Initialization complete. Host synchronization successful. ]
I jerked — well, mentally jerked — awake. My baby body flailed like a stunned penguin, startling a maid changing my diaper. She cooed at me, oblivious to what I had just heard.
…Did I just hear…?
[ Hello, Host. ]
Oh. Oh yes. A system. Finally.
I almost laughed out loud, but my vocal cords betrayed me with a gurgle. Every isekai I'd read flashed through my mind. Status screens, quests, overpowered cheats. This was it.
[ Please select a name for this interface. If no selection is made, default designation "System" will be used. ]
(…System is fine.)
[ Acknowledged. Default designation retained. ]
The voice — System — continued.
[ You are currently in Musutafu City, Japan. Current year: 2252. World classification: My Hero Academia Universe. ]
It's just as I expected.
The System didn't just dump info — it showed me. Like some kind of augmented overlay, I saw news headlines, clips, snippets of articles, all pulled from the MHA world's equivalent of the internet. Hero rankings. Quirk-related science journals. Social media platforms like "HeroTube" and "QuirkNet." Pro Hero gossip accounts. It was like someone merged YouTube, Twitter, and comic books.
This wasn't a vague "you reincarnated into a random anime world." This was definitively MHA. The System had full access to global data, like a quantum computer plugged into the net. It explained things in neat, structured prompts:
[ Host has received three unique boons upon reincarnation. ]
[ Passive Influence Field: Individuals are more likely to have a favorable impression of you and trust your words more easily. Effect scales with Host's age and charisma. ]
[ Integrated System Interface: A personal AI with appraisal, inventory, and auxiliary support functions. ]
[ Unique Quirk: Locked until age 4. Classification: Speed. Notes: Cannot be copied or stolen by existing Quirk replication abilities. Detailed functions unknown. ]
I stared at those prompts for hours — well, as much as a baby could "stare" at the inside of his mind. So no gacha shop, no "God missions," no multiverse hopping. Just appraisal, inventory, and some convenient passive charisma buff. Not bad. Not broken. But definitely useful.
And the quirk…Speed. It didn't say what kind of speed. Could be Quicksilver-level or maybe Flash from DC. Could be something even crazier. But I had to wait until I was four to awaken it. Four years of pretending to be a normal rich baby. Great.
Still, the realization hit me slowly over that month. I wasn't just reborn anywhere. I was in the hero society. All the stories I'd read, the fights, the villains, the UA students—they weren't fiction here. They were now reality.
And I was going to grow up in the middle of it.
Back to the present.
The birthday party had died down, and my parents were chatting in the living room with a few close staff members. I sat in Mom's lap, nibbling on a soft piece of cake with my tiny hands. It wasn't elegant. It wasn't dignified. But damn, cake still tasted good in any life.
Father looked at me with that same proud grin. "Look at him, Miyabi. Barely a year old, and he already waves at people, bows when he's carried into a room, and mimics speech. Genius."
Miyabi smiled softly. "He's our child after all."
They talked about future plans—enrollment in elite kindergartens, early education programs, even "quirk analysis appointments" when I got older. I listened in silence. It was surreal. In my past life, I barely had enough for instant curry. Here, my biggest problem was which private school uniform I'd wear.
As weeks turned into months over this first year, I grew accustomed to my new life. I learned to gesture cleverly to communicate my wants, practiced simple words, and adapted to my baby body's limitations. There were still moments of humiliation — bathroom accidents, being carried everywhere — but mentally, I felt sharper than ever. My past memories gave me a huge edge.
And when I was bored, I talked to System or tried out its functions.
[ Inventory currently empty. Do you wish to store objects? ]
(With how tight the "surveillance" is around me, If I make something disappear won't that lead a huge problem ? Forget about it. Let's try the appraisal.)
[ Appraisal is available. Aim at target mentally. ]
[ Appraisal activated. Target locked. ]
—Target Information—
Name: Kurogane Miyabi
Age: 37
Occupation: House-wife
Quirk: Currently Unknown.
Current Mood: Calm, slightly amused.
Relationship: Mother
Favourability: 92%
Remark: "She's smiling again. Probably noticed you playing with that spoon."
It was like having a personal AI assistant stuck in my head. No personality, just pure efficiency. Sometimes, I'd ask stupid questions just to see if it would respond.
(You sure there's no multiverse travel?)
[ Negative. Functionality not detected. ]
(What about quests?)
[ Negative. ]
(Secret functions unlocked after dramatic life events?)
[ Negative. ]
…Damn it. So much for main character buffs.
Days bled into each other after that. Naps, playtime, exploration. I crawled through long hallways, waved at maids who found me "so adorable," listened to my father talk about support gear designs in his study, and sometimes watched hero news on the big living room screens. System occasionally dumped data about the world into my mind, but I paced myself. Even with an adult brain, baby mental stamina had limits.
Still, slowly but surely, I was adapting.
The birthday candles had been blown out. The cake was eaten. And as the night grew quiet, I was tucked into my absurdly soft crib, staring at the ceiling with drowsy eyes.
A year had passed since my death. A year since that blinding light.
This world was loud, strange, and overwhelming. But it was real.
And my story was just beginning.