My name is Daichi Ishigami—people just call me Daichi or Ishigami. I've been in this world for the past ten years. That's right—I got reincarnated into this strange world where superpowered individuals, known as Pro Heroes and Villains, dominate the landscape. Around 80% of the human population has these powers, known as quirks.
To train the next generation of Pro Heroes, there are schools specifically made for that purpose.
I, too, have a quirk in this world. Mine's classified as an emitter-type quirk, but it's unique. I possess the power of duplication and advanced sound manipulation—basically, I can create clones of myself, each capable of unleashing sonic blasts, echolocation, frequency disruption, and other sound-based attacks. The moment my power awakened, I recognized it for what it was—something almost identical to the powers of the alien Echo Echo from a cartoon I used to love: Ben 10.
Unlike Echo Echo though, I can't transform into that alien form—but the powers? Those are mine.
As for my parents, I'm lucky to have them. My dad's name is Tatsuya Ishigami—his quirk allows him to amplify and direct specific sound frequencies. My mom, Miyuki Ishigami, has a quirk that lets her create small sonic pulses that can disorient people or equipment. The doctor said my quirk is a natural evolution—born from the combination of their quirks. Add to that my maternal grandfather's rare duplication quirk, and you get what I have now.
About my reincarnation—honestly, I don't know how I got here. All I remember is my past life where I was just a normal college student. I read comics, played games, binge-watched cartoons, and worked part-time to pay for school. I was an orphan in that life, so having a family in this one feels like a gift. I don't remember how I died—it's probably part of the whole reincarnation deal.
Anyway, right now I'm standing at the entrance to one of Japan's most prestigious hero schools: U.A. High School. It's where top heroes like All Might, Endeavor, and Best Jeanist graduated. Still, despite its prestige, U.A. has always struck me as kind of barbaric. Every year they pit kids against each other on live television like it's some kind of gladiator sport. Sure, it's supposed to be about "practical experience," but I feel like it's just letting villains scope out the next generation's best talents.
I thought about skipping the school altogether—but my mom had already signed me up for the entrance exam. In the end, I figured: why not? I'll just stay out of the spotlight until graduation. And with that, here I am.
Right now, I'm at the U.A. exam center entrance. Mom and Dad dropped me off and wished me luck. "Well, here goes nothing," I muttered as I walked in.
On my way to the orientation hall, I saw a blonde kid shove a green-haired boy aside, nearly knocking him to the ground—only for a girl to catch him just in time. "Lucky," I thought, shaking my head as I moved into the hall.
Five minutes later, the lights dimmed, and Present Mic started the orientation. I glanced at my exam assignment and saw I'd been placed in Battle Center D. Present Mic's enthusiastic commentary was interrupted when some kid started asking questions about the zero-pointer robot shown on the presentation screen. I didn't bother paying attention too much—robots were my thing. Soundwaves can mess them up, and my clones make it easier to cover multiple targets.
Then the same kid began scolding the green-haired boy for mumbling too loudly. The blonde jerk was standing next to him, glaring. Present Mic clarified the test rules and wrapped up the orientation, leading us into the written exam.
The written test was easy—I aced it without breaking a sweat. Soon after, we were guided toward the buses that would take us to our assigned battle centers. I boarded the one for Center D and found a seat.
Not long after, a girl with headphone jack earlobes stepped onto the bus, followed by a short kid with purple balls for hair. His eyes lingered too long on the girl's behind, and she immediately sat beside me with an annoyed scowl.
Trying to lighten the mood, I introduced myself. "Hi, I'm Daichi Ishigami. You can call me Daichi or Ishigami."
She gave me a wary smile. "Jiro. Kyoka Jiro."
I understood her guarded attitude—given the creeper sitting nearby. So I made some casual small talk to ease the tension. After a while, she admitted that the ball-headed kid was creeping her out. I told her to just ignore him and focus on the upcoming battle.
We arrived at Center D and stepped off the bus. Everyone just stood around waiting for the test to start.
"START!"
Present Mic's voice boomed, and before anyone could react, I was already sprinting into the exam zone. "Good luck, Jiro!" I shouted on my way in.
I headed for the central area to rack up early points, using my sound-based echolocation to scout targets. My clones flanked me as I located a three-pointer robot. One of my clones let loose a focused sonic beam that shattered its sensors, disabling it. We quickly salvaged its casing to learn more about its build. Knowledge is power.
Climbing the tallest building in the center using my sonic pulses for propulsion, I reached the roof. From there, I deployed several duplicates around the battlefield. Each of us began launching concentrated sonic blasts—short, powerful bursts that acted like sniper shots. I saved a few students in the process—including Jiro—by intercepting bots sneaking up on them.
"Rule #1 of hero work," I whispered to myself, "don't kill-steal unless you're saving lives."
Time passed quickly, and I'd already scored a ton of points. Just then, the ground rumbled—a gigantic robot emerged: the zero-pointer.
'If I destroy that thing, the staff will definitely take notice. I just hope there aren't any traitors among them watching.'
I fused four of my clones into a singular node and released a frequency burst directly into the robot's central processor. It shook, trembled—and then collapsed. My blast had shorted out its control core.
A siren blared.
"THE EXAM IS NOW OVER."
Meanwhile, at the command center for the test site, the U.A. teachers watched various screens.
On one, they replayed a clip of Midoriya taking out a zero-pointer with a punch. Elsewhere, Snipe pointed to a different screen.
"Hey… What happened to that one?" he asked, referring to another zero-pointer that was already down.
Aizawa leaned in. "Rewind that. Let's see."
They played the footage back. A sonic pulse, clean and precise, hit the giant robot's processor, shutting it down.
"Whoever did that," Snipe said, "is a sound-type specialist. The timing and targeting were flawless."
"Are you sure?" Midnight asked.
"Absolutely. That's an elite-level marksman with sound manipulation."
Nezu smiled mischievously. "Wanna make a bet?"
"What's the wager?"
"If you're wrong, you owe me a game of chess. If you're right, you get that support upgrade you've been requesting."
Snipe grinned. "Deal."
Nezu ran a trace on the signal and zoomed in on the student responsible.
"Name: Daichi Ishigami. Quirk: Echo Pulse. Not related to your quirk, Snipe."
Snipe groaned. "Guess I'm playing chess after all."