I died. It's a strange thing to say, stranger still to realize. I didn't go out in a blaze of glory or saving a bus full of children. I was just a guy who hadn't finished the last season of My Hero Academia. That was my biggest regret as the world turned upside down. If I'd known that a generic white truck was going to be my personal reaper, I would have spent the previous night binge-watching every single episode until my eyes bled.
The impact was a dull, bone-shattering roar. I felt my body leave the pavement, a sickening weightlessness taking over as I was launched through the air. My flight was cut short by a high-voltage electric pole. The arc of electricity that surged through me felt like being unmade from the inside out. And just to ensure the job was finished, gravity dragged my charred, twitching remains into a nearby swimming pool. Fried and drowned.
If there's a God of Irony, he was probably laughing his head off.
Now, I found myself in a void. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. It was just... nothing. I waited for the pearly gates or the pits of fire, but they never came. I was just a consciousness floating in a sea of ink.
"Hello, young soul."
The voice didn't come from a direction; it was just there, inside my head.
"Who's that?" I shouted, or tried to. Without a mouth, it was more of a thought-shout. "Where am I? Is this the part where I get judged?"
"I am the God of Reincarnation," the voice replied, sounding remarkably casual. "And I am here to offer you an opportunity to be reborn. You have a remarkably stubborn will to live, even after... well, the truck, the pole, and the pool."
"Reborn?" I felt a surge of hope that would have jump-started a dead heart if I still had one. "Like the novels? Is this a second chance?"
"In a sense, yes. You didn't necessarily do anything to deserve it, but your spirit is interesting. You'll be sent to a new world."
"Do I get to pick?" I asked quickly. "Please tell me it's not Attack on Titan. I don't want to be a snack for a giant. Or Demon Slayer. I'm not built for that kind of stress."
"The wheel shall decide," the God said.
A massive, glowing wheel manifested in the darkness. I watched, my metaphorical heart in my throat, as names of worlds flickered by. Naruto, Bleach, Hunter x Hunter, Fairy Tail, Highschool DxD... My eyes widened as it passed Boku no Pico (thank the gods for that) and finally, with a heavy click, it landed on a familiar symbol.
My Hero Academia.
"Thank God," I breathed. "I know this world. I like this world. I can survive this."
"Now," the God continued, "since the world is chosen, you may request an ability to help you survive. It must be reasonable for the power scaling of that world. No universe-shattering entities."
I didn't even have to think. My mind went straight to the most versatile, durable, and surprisingly powerful ability I knew. "I want the properties of the Gum-Gum Fruit from One Piece."
"A rubber body? A reasonable request," the God said. "It will be integrated into your DNA as a Quirk. Go now, and try not to find another electric pole."
The transition was a blur. I was born as Kota Sora, to Hiroshi and Emi. For nine years, life was... normal. Or as normal as it can be when you can stretch your neck to see what's on the top shelf. I loved my parents. They were kind, ordinary people who looked at my rubbery skin with a mix of awe and worry.
But I lived with a ticking clock in my head. I knew the timeline. I knew the tragedy that was coming.
It happened on a Tuesday. The day All Might faced All For One in their first catastrophic battle. In the anime, you see the craters and the hero's injury. You don't see the collateral. You don't see the families in the apartment buildings nearby.
The air itself seemed to scream as shockwaves tore through the city. I remember my father grabbing me, my mother screaming as the ceiling groaned. The impact of their battle was like a localized earthquake. Our house didn't just fall; it was pulverized.
I felt the crushing weight of concrete. Because of my rubber body, the initial impact didn't kill me—I just deformed, squished between slabs of stone like a stress ball. But my parents... they were human. They weren't made of rubber.
"Mom? Dad?" I called out into the dust-choked dark. There was no answer. Only the sound of more buildings collapsing in the distance.
I lay there for what felt like hours, pinned and helpless. I was supposed to have the Gum-Gum Fruit, right? I was supposed to be a hero. But I was just a nine-year-old boy who couldn't even lift a pebble off his own chest. The helplessness was a physical poison in my veins.
A flash of blue light cut through the rubble. A man with a high collar and a stoic expression looked down at me. It wasn't All Might. All Might was busy fighting for the world. My savior was the Number Four Hero, Best Jeanist. His threads lashed out, delicately lifting the debris that threatened to finish me off.
"You're safe now, child," he said, his voice calm amidst the chaos.
I looked at the bodies of my parents, barely visible under the wreckage. I didn't cry then. I was too empty. I realized then that I had over-estimated myself. Having a power isn't the same as knowing how to use it. I had been given a second chance, and I had spent nine years playing with my Quirk like a toy instead of training it like a weapon.
I was moved to an orphanage three months later.