'What the f*ck?'
You must be wondering what's going on right?
Well, you see... Just a while ago I was being beaten to death by some scary old man hahaha there were 5 of them too. It's quite scary if you think about it plus they're gay, so you might already know what they did to me before they beat me up.
If you cant guess it, then just imagine rape, gangbang hentai but instead of a girl victim, it's a boy.
Now you must be thinking, why would they do that to me? Well, there is one reason no, scratch that there are three reasons.
The first reason is they hate weebs, of course when I first found this out I was surprised and asked them why, but it turns out there were a lot of chunnis in their neighborhood.
You could see and hear them doing lots of cringe things. So they grew to hate weebs because of it.
The second reason is that I'm a gambler, the reason they hate gamblers is that whenever they loan money to them they never give it back until of course, they won something but alas what they won is simply a quarter of their debt.
And the third reason is that they're working for the local gangsters that are known for being loan sharks. And so the reason they did that to me and beat me up is that they're jealous of my wealth ;) (for real tho, they beat me up because I wasn't able to give the money back)
And here I am in the afterlife, void, space, Tartarus, hell, heaven? I don't really know where I am but it is dark. There is also a chance that they just locked me up in the basement but that's hardly possible since I am floating and looks to be transparent so it's either I became a mutant or dead.
I don't even know how long I'd been here until of course, a bright flash of light blinded my nonexistent eye.
After a while, my nonexistent eye finally got used to bright light and saw a hologram?
'uh hello?'
[Oh, so you finally got used to the light, anyway, I'm a being you mortals call rob that stands for random. omnipotent. being]
'Oh, so you're rob? Well, I am a human being that lives on earth. Earth is a planet full of dirt it i-'
[Okay stop, I know who you are and what earth is okay. I originally intended to give you 5 wishes but because of that not so funny joke I'm gonna make it into two wishes]
'Huh? you should've told me that first'
[Heh, It's already done can't do anything about it. Just take this as a lesson to not do anything rash]
'But, but- eh f*ck it, for my first wish reincarnation to bnha with my memories. second wish 2 quirks that cant be stolen. Is that plausible?'
[Yeah it is so what kind of quirks do you want?]
'First quirk I'll name it gamble'
[What does it do?]
'Can't you just read my mind?'
[...]
[Are you dumb? I'm literally a hologram do you think I have access to the powers of the original]
'Then how can you give me wishes?'
[Just think of it like this. I'm a waiter I write down your orders and give them to the chef, once they finish cooking I deliver them to you get it now?]
'I guess I do'
[Good, now tell me what does the first quirk do?]
'Okay the abilities of my first quirk gamble are one, it gives me a high amount of IQ and it's permanent, second, it gives me insane luck, third, it makes me have high talent with anything that has to do with gambling.'
[Nice! That's some good quirk. Now for your second quirk what is it?]
'For my second quirk, I'll name it deal'
[Okay and its power or ability?]
'For my quirk deal, it can make deals just like the name implies but whatever at the stake of the deal must be fulfilled, for example, I betted my eyesight and my opponent betted their quirk and they lost to me, then I will gain their quirk and it will perfectly assimilate with me, another example, I betted my IQ and my opponent did the same and they lost then I will gain their IQ, the same thing would happen to me if I lost. Do you get it?'
[I do]
[Your second quirk also goes well with your first quirk. You really thought about this didn't you]
'Yeah I did, I've been thinking about what to wish if something like this happens so you could say I've preparing for this my whole life'
[Nice that means this is a dream come true for you]
'Yes it is'
[Well... bye then, the original already got your wish, so all I need to do is send you to your new world]
[Also you won't get your quirks instantly, you would have to wait for about a year to gain them]
'I see then, it was nice talking to you bye'
[You too]
With that, I blacked out and got sent to a new world.
The first thing I registered wasn't a sight or a sound, but the smell of old fabric and a distinct, lingering scent of laundry detergent.
I blinked, and for a moment, the world was a blur of beige wallpaper and a ceiling fan that groaned with every slow, rhythmic rotation.
I wasn't floating in a void anymore; I was lying on a mattress that felt far too soft to be the concrete floor of a basement.
My limbs felt heavy, anchored by a gravity I hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity, and my chest rose and fell with a slow, steady breath.
I tried to sit up, but my coordination was completely shot. I felt like a puppet with tangled strings.
As my vision finally snapped into focus, I realized I was staring at a small, cluttered desk piled high with textbooks and a few plastic figurines of characters from a series I actually recognized.
The room was small, typical of a Japanese apartment, and the afternoon sun was filtering through thin curtains, casting long, golden stripes across the wooden floor.
I reached up to touch my face, and my eyes widened. My hand was small—tiny, even.
I wasn't a grown man anymore; I looked to be around four years old.
This was the classic "reincarnation starter pack" experience.
I scrambled off the bed, stumbling slightly as I adjusted to the shorter center of gravity, and found a mirror leaning against the wall.
A kid with messy hair and wide, curious eyes stared back at me.
I looked innocent, which was a great cover for a degenerate gambler.
"Sora! Dinner is almost ready! Come wash your hands!"
"Coming!" I yelled back, though my voice came out as a high-pitched squeak that sounded more like a toy than a person.
I spent the next few minutes exploring the apartment with a mix of fascination and caution.
It was a cozy place, smelling of miso and steamed rice, with a warmth that felt entirely alien compared to the cold void of the afterlife.
My new parents seemed genuinely kind—my mother, a soft-spoken woman with a quirk for Luck Enhancement.
It wasn't a combat power, but it manifested in the small, golden victories of daily life: she always found the last ripe avocado at the market, and the laundry never once tangled in the dryer.
It was a passive, comforting hum of fortune that seemed to keep the household running like a well-oiled machine, ensuring that bad days rarely lasted longer than an hour.
Then there was my father, who was essentially the household's resident superstar.
His quirk, "Magician," was a fascinating piece of utility; he could replicate any magic trick from any source—be it a century-old stage act or a flashy sequence from a fictional anime—with flawless precision.
The catch was that the magic was purely aesthetic.
He couldn't conjure fire to burn a building or teleport across a city; he could only create the illusion of doing so.
Because of this, he had carved out a lucrative niche as a celebrity magician, providing high-end practical effects for movies and headlining shows that left audiences baffled.
He lived for the applause, a man who turned the mundane into a spectacle, though he was surprisingly humble once he stepped through the front door.
The first year of my new life was an exercise in deceptive simplicity.
While my peers were struggling to tie their shoes or learning how to share their toys, I was spending my afternoons staring at the ceiling, waiting for a clock to tick over.
I remember the exact moment it happened—the same day I turned five.
It didn't come with a flash of light or a choir of angels; it was more like a sudden, violent snap of a rubber band inside my skull.
Suddenly, the world didn't just look clearer; it looked like a blueprint.
The chaotic noise of the city outside my window resolved into a series of predictable patterns.
I could feel the "weight" of probability shifting around me, a shimmering invisible tide that told me exactly when the toaster would pop or which floorboard would creak if I stepped on it.
The high IQ Rob had promised hit me like a freight train, turning my childhood curiosity into a sophisticated analytical engine.
I wasn't just a kid anymore; I was a supercomputer in a preschooler's body, and the "Gamble" quirk was humming in my veins, making the very concept of risk feel like a warm, inviting blanket.
The "Deal" quirk didn't announce itself with a bang, but with a subtle, shimmering tension in the air, like the static before a lightning strike.
While "Gamble" felt like a passive current of luck flowing through me, "Deal" felt like an active, hungry void waiting to be filled.
I discovered it during a mundane game of Rock-Paper-Scissors with my father.
As we squared off, I felt a sudden, intuitive pull—a ghostly contract manifesting between us.
I didn't even realize I was doing it; I just wanted to win, and for the first time, the stakes felt tangible.
I remember making a bet with my father:
If I win, I get your attention for the whole evening; if I lose, I'll do the dishes for a week.
The moment our hands snapped open, a golden thread of light pulsed between our palms.
My father's "Rock" was crushed by my "Paper," and the air practically sighed in satisfaction.
It wasn't just a win; it was a binding agreement.
He didn't seem to notice the supernatural element of the bet, but he suddenly looked at me with an intensity of affection that was almost overwhelming, as if a cosmic switch had been flipped.
I realized then that my quirk didn't just manipulate luck—it codified desire into law.
The "Deal" was an absolute; once the terms were set and the outcome decided, the universe itself ensured the payout was delivered.
The realization that I could effectively rewrite the rules of engagement between people was an intoxication more potent than any high I'd felt in my previous life.
For a few months, I played it safe, testing the waters with low-stakes wagers.
I'd bet my dessert on a coin flip with my mother or a small toy on a guessing game with a classmate.
It was a game of calibration.
I discovered that "Deal" required a conscious agreement from both parties—a verbal or mental "yes" to the stakes—which prevented me from simply stealing things.
It was a consensual transaction of fate.
The high IQ from "Gamble" allowed me to mask this perfectly; I didn't just win; I won in a way that looked natural, a fluke of childhood luck that never raised a red flag.
However, the boredom of early childhood is a cruel thing, and the allure of the "Deal" quirk began to itch.
I started wondering about the ceiling.
Not the physical ceiling of my room, but the ceiling of my own potential.
I could bet intangible things—talents, memories, or even biological traits—how far could I push the envelope?
can i eventually own the everything there is?
The "Gamble" quirk provided the safety net, giving me the intuition to know when a bet was a sure thing and when it was a trap.
I became a ghost in my own home, a five-year-old who could predict the exact second a glass would slip from a counter or which lottery ticket my mother would instinctively pick.