The rain tasted like copper.
I didn't know why I thought that. Maybe because my lip was split. Again. Or maybe it was just the way Tokyo rain always tasted after midnight—metallic, bitter, like the city itself was bleeding into the gutters.
I wiped the blood with my sleeve and kept walking.
My shoes were soaked through. Had been for the last three blocks. The sole on my left sneaker had a hole in it—been there for two months now. I kept meaning to replace them, but every time I saved enough, something else came up.
Mom's medication. My little sister's school supplies. The electric bill that kept climbing no matter how much we rationed.
So I walked in wet socks and pretended my feet weren't numb.
Tokyo nights weren't kind to poor kids. Especially not ones who worked three part-time jobs just to keep the lights on at home.
But I didn't complain.
What was the point? Complaining didn't pay bills. Complaining didn't put food on the table.
Action did. So I worked.
Convenience store from 6 PM to 10 PM. Dish washing at a small ramen shop until 1 AM. Newspaper delivery at 4 AM before school started at 8.
Sleep was a luxury I couldn't afford.
I was seventeen. Average height, maybe 5'9" on a good day. Average grades—Cs and Bs, nothing remarkable. Average face, the kind you'd forget five minutes after meeting me.
Nothing special.
Nothing worth remembering.
Just another kid grinding through life, one shift at a time.
The crosswalk blinked red.
I stopped, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets. The fabric was thin. Threadbare. I could feel the cold seeping through. My phone buzzed—a text from my sister.
"Brought home leftover bread from school. Don't buy dinner."
I smiled a little.
She was twelve. Smart as hell. Always thinking ahead. She knew I'd spend money I didn't have just to make sure she ate. So she found ways to save me from myself.
Good kid.
I typed back: "Thanks. See you in the morning."
The light stayed red.
A car splashed through a puddle nearby, drenching a salaryman who cursed loudly. I stepped back, avoiding the spray. My feet squished inside my shoes.
I glanced at my watch—1:47 AM.
If I caught the next train, I'd be home by 2:15. Sleep for an hour and a half. Wake up at 3:45 for the newspaper route.
Same as always. Then I heard it.
A scream.
Sharp. High-pitched. Terrified.
My head snapped up.
Across the street, a kid—maybe six years old—stood frozen in the middle of the road. His ball had rolled into traffic. A little red rubber ball, bouncing lazily toward the opposite curb.
He followed it.
Without thinking.
Without looking.
And a truck was barreling toward him.
Headlights. Bright. Blinding.
The driver honked—long, desperate, panicked.
But the kid didn't move.
He just stood there, eyes wide, clutching his hands to his chest.
Frozen.
Time slowed.
I saw everything.
The truck's screen of metal bars. The driver's horrified face. The kid's tiny sneakers—light-up ones, flashing red and blue.
I saw the mother on the sidewalk, mouth open in a silent scream, reaching out but too far away.
I saw the distance.
The speed. The math. He wouldn't make it.
Nobody would reach him in time.
Nobody—
Except me.
I didn't think.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't consider the consequences.
I just ran.
My legs burned. My lungs screamed. The rain made the asphalt slick, but I didn't slow down.
Five steps.
Four.
Three.
The truck's horn blared in my ears.
Two.
I reached him.
My hands found his small shoulders. I shoved—hard. Felt his body tumble back toward the sidewalk, toward safety, toward his mother's arms.
And then—
Impact.
The world exploded.
Pain. Everywhere. All at once.
My body twisted in the air like a ragdoll. I felt bones snap, ribs and legs alike. Tasted blood flooding my mouth. Heard screaming—mine? Someone else's?
The sky spun.
The ground rushed up.
I hit pavement.
Everything went white.
Then red.
Then black.
I heard my sister's voice in my head, calling my name.
"Nii-san. Nii-san, wake up. You're going to be late."
I wanted to answer.
Couldn't.
"Nii-san, please."
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
Then… nothing.
Darkness.
Cold.
Weightless.
Am I dead?
The thought came slowly, like trying to remember a dream.
I must be.
I got hit by a truck.
Classic.
I would've laughed if I had a body.
Was this what death felt like? Just… floating? No heaven. No hell. No bright light or tunnel.
Just emptiness.
I tried to move. Couldn't.
Tried to speak. Couldn't.
Tried to feel anything—pain, cold, warmth.
Nothing.
Just drifting.
Is this it?
Is this forever?
Time passed. Or maybe it didn't. Hard to tell when you're nowhere.
I thought about Mom. Wondered who would take care of her now. Her medication was expensive. The hospital bills were piling up.
I thought about my sister. She'd blame herself. She always did when things went wrong.
It's not your fault, I wanted to tell her. I made the choice.
I'd do it again.
The kid lived. That's what mattered.
One life for another.
Fair trade.
Right?
Right?
And then—
Light.
Blinding. Searing. Burning through the darkness like a blade.
I gasped.
Air rushed into my lungs like fire. My chest heaved. My heart slammed against my ribs—ribs that shouldn't exist anymore.
My eyes snapped open.
Smoke.
Dust.
Rubble.
I was lying on my back, staring at a shattered sky. Buildings crumbled around me. Rebar protruded out like broken bones. Concrete dust hung in the air, thick and choking.
Sirens wailed in the distance. People screamed.
What the hell?
I sat up—too fast. My head spun. Nausea clawed at my throat.
Where was I?
This wasn't Tokyo.
Well—it looked like Tokyo. But wrong. Different.
The buildings were taller. More modern. Some had strange architectural designs—curved, organic, like they'd been grown instead of built.
And the destruction—
This wasn't a truck accident.
This was a warzone.
I looked down at my hands.
They weren't my hands.
These hands were bigger. Rougher. Chapped in different places. Scars crisscrossed the knuckles.
I touched my face.
Different bone structure. Sharper jaw. Nose slightly crooked—like it had been broken before.
My hair—I grabbed a handful—longer, darker, shaggier.
Panic clawed at my chest.
Where am I?
Who am I?
A woman ran past me, sobbing. Blood streaked her face. She didn't even look at me.
A man in a torn business suit dragged someone through the debris, shouting for help.
A child sat against a collapsed wall, staring blankly at nothing.
And then I saw it.
A massive, ugly creature, easily four stories tall, rampaging through the street.
Its body was a twisted fusion of flesh and metal. Cables and veins tangled together.
One arm ended in a massive drill. The other had three fingers, each as thick as a telephone pole.
It roared—a sound that rattled my bones.
And fighting it—
Heroes.
Heroes.
One wore a costume with a cannon grafted to his arm. He fired blasts of compressed air that barely staggered the creature.
Another—a woman with green hair—summoned massive vines from the ground, trying to restrain the monster.
A third hero, dressed in red and gold, moved with impossible speed, striking at weak points.
But they were losing.
My breath caught.
No way.
This isn't possible.
This is—
Heroes. Quirks. Villains. Disasters.
My Hero Academia.
The realization hit me like a second truck.
I was in the world of My Hero Academia.
But that was fiction. A manga. An anime. Something I watched on my friend's phone during lunch breaks.
It wasn't real.
Except it was.
The smoke in my lungs was real.
The screams were real.
The blood on my hands—someone else's blood—was real.
I looked around again, trying to process.
This body. It wasn't mine. Someone else died here. In this disaster. And somehow… I took their place.
Transmigration?
Reincarnation?
Am I in a coma? Is this a dying dream?
Another explosion rocked the street.
I flinched, ducking instinctively as debris rained down.
The creature roared again. The cannon hero got swatted aside like a fly, crashing into a building.
This was too vivid to be a dream.
Too painful.
Too real.
I stood—legs shaking, unsteady.
My body felt strange.
Not injured. Not weak.
Just… different.
Like it didn't quite fit right.
I clenched my fist.
And for just a second, the air around me trembled.
A pressure.
Subtle but undeniable.
I felt it in my chest. A well of something vast and untapped.
Power.
Raw. Overwhelming.
Waiting.
I opened my fist. The sensation faded.
What was that?
The monster swung its drill arm. The green-haired hero barely dodged.
People were dying. Heroes were struggling.
And I was standing here, in someone else's body, in someone else's world, with no idea what to do.
But as I stood there, rain starting to fall again, because of course it was raining, I made a decision.
I didn't know how I got here.
I didn't know why.
But I was here.
And I wasn't going to waste it.
I died saving someone.
Maybe I could do it again.
I took a step forward.
Then another.
Toward the chaos.
Toward the unknown.
Toward whatever came next.
TO BE CONTINUED...