In the heart of Mustafu, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the narrow streets, bathing the city in a golden haze. A boy, no older than thirteen, trudged along the cracked pavement in his middle school uniform. His bag hung loosely off one shoulder, swaying with each distracted step.
His eyes weren't really on the road ahead. They were glazed, distant, caught somewhere between reality and memory. Whatever he had just witnessed lingered in his mind, replaying over and over like a film stuck on repeat.
A sudden wail of sirens broke the lull of the neighborhood. Red and blue lights streaked past as police cars and ambulances tore down the road, the gust of wind from their speed ruffling the boy's hair.
He stopped walking, shifting slightly to the edge of the sidewalk, and for the first time since leaving school, a crooked smirk tugged at his lips.
"Figures…" he muttered under his breath.
His gaze followed the retreating convoy. The image of smoke, rubble, and monstrous limbs still burned fresh in his mind.
'Guess they're off to help Katsuki. Heh, the scene was way more horrific than how the anime or manga ever showed it. Blood, screaming… people panicking in every direction. Reality has a way of stripping away the polish of fiction.'
He exhaled through his nose, his smirk lingering, but his eyes carrying a sharp glint.
'If I'm right, then Izuku should be meeting All Might later today… the story is about to begin'
But how could he know that? How could some random teen predict the very story unfolding before his eyes?
The truth was simple. This boy wasn't just another resident of Mustafu. He was an anomaly, one who shouldn't have existed here.
Who was he? And how did he know the future so well?
Well…...
[10 Months Ago]
Aldera Junior High was like any ordinary middle school in Japan… except most of its students weren't ordinary at all. Almost every kid walked the halls with quirks—some subtle, some flashy, some outright bizarre. Fire and wind, objects that moved by thought alone, even students with glowing or distorted limbs—all part of daily life.
Except one.
Izuku Midoriya, the green-haired boy destined to become a hero, sat diligently in his seat, scribbling notes about the latest Hero who had just made a debut. Behind him, one student slept peacefully, oblivious to the chaos of quirk-wielding classmates.
That boy was Kaelen Hayashi.
Half-Japanese, half-African, Kaelen carried a quiet presence despite his early teenage years. His dark skin glowed softly under the classroom lights, and his neatly trimmed, slick black hair reflected careful grooming. There was an air of composure about him—even in slumber—but that stillness didn't last long.
A sudden sharp inhale tore him from sleep, making him bolt upright in his chair. Heads turned. Some students stifled giggles. Kaelen blinked rapidly, trying to regain his bearings—but then his gaze landed on the familiar green-haired boy, Izuku, who had turned to look at him.
'Deku?! Why is he here? And… why am I even in this place?' he thought, confusion clouding his mind.
Without hesitation, he shoved his chair back and exited the classroom, the ambient chatter fading behind him.
As he wandered the hallways, Kaelen's eyes roamed over the other students. Some had heads shaped like objects—a pencil, a clock—while others emitted strange lights, laughter echoing unnaturally around them.
A bathroom sign caught his attention. He stepped forward and, without a second thought, pushed the door open—only to realize too late it was the female bathroom.
"Oh—sorry!" he stammered, spinning to leave just as shrieks erupted behind him.
"HENTAI!"
Kaelen froze for a moment, eyebrows raising in surprise.
'Wow… they really do that?' he thought, shaking his head before correcting his mistake and entering the proper bathroom.
Standing in front of the mirror, he finally took in his reflection: a dark-toned teen with sharp black eyes, a face both serious and quietly commanding.
And then it hit him. Memories—fragmented, strange, and vivid—flooded his mind, playing out like a movie he hadn't chosen to watch. Childhood moments, ordinary days, awkward embarrassments… and the embarrassing, unusual way he had died. He sighed, pressing a hand to the sink as reality settled on him once more.
'My Hero, huh? Damn…' he muttered under his breath, staring at the boy in the mirror.
But the truth was far stranger than he could have imagined. Kaelen, the boy standing in front of the mirror, wasn't exactly Kaelen anymore.
He was a vessel, inhabited by someone who had lived a simple, mundane life on Earth—someone who had died in a way too ridiculous to even want to remember.
....
[Flashback]
His name was Tyler, an anime fan to the core, the kind who could quote entire arcs from memory and still argue passionately about the smallest plot inconsistencies. On an otherwise ordinary Saturday, he and a few close friends had decided to attend a convention in their city. It was his first time at such an event, and the thrill of seeing cosplays, merch, and fellow fans filled him with quiet excitement.
At first, everything was perfect. Tyler wandered from booth to booth, snapping photos and discussing the latest arcs with strangers who shared his passion. But then came the heated debate—a clash he hadn't anticipated. A group of One Punch Man fans, brimming with confidence, insisted that Saitama could beat Goku in a fight.
Tyler, never one to back down, calmly dismantled their arguments. He pointed out logical inconsistencies, power scaling flaws, and the sheer impossibility of their claims. The debate escalated quickly; the fans' smirks turned into glares, their shoves almost playful at first—but Tyler could see the fury brewing beneath.
And then it happened.
A stinky, wild-eyed fan—who looked like he spent his life on obscure Reddit threads—lunged forward with a kitchen knife. Tyler barely had time to register it before a sharp pain tore through his torso. He stumbled backward, clutching the wound, his friends screaming behind him. Blood pooled beneath him as his vision blurred.
The last coherent thought in his mind was painfully mundane:
'I didn't even get to witness Dragon Ball Super Season 2…'
Even in his final moments, Tyler couldn't help but cringe at how absurd his death was. Stupid, preventable, and utterly humiliating.
Then, silence. Darkness. And… nothing.
He assumed that had been the end—until he opened his eyes and realized he was somewhere else entirely. A new body, a new life: Kaelen Hayashi.
Kaelen blinked at the unfamiliar hands, the strange reflection in the mirror, and the odd sensations of teenage limbs moving under his control.
'So what am I even meant to do here? Not like the world really needs me,' he muttered, shrugging to himself as he walked toward the bathroom. He relieved himself, washed his hands carefully, still trying to process the impossible.
On his way back to class, girls passing by pointed and whispered, some giggling. Kaelen let out a resigned sigh, scratching the back of his head.
'I'm flipping a pervert now. Well, I don't care… just hope it isn't brought up when I sign up for UA.'
Returning to class, he slid into a seat, eyes falling on Izuku, who continued sketching diligently in his notebook. Tyler—now Kaelen—glanced out the window for a moment, letting the quiet calm of the afternoon settle over him. Whatever this new life demanded of him, he decided, he would face it head-on.
Whatever his goal was… he would do everything in his power to accomplish it.
TO BE CONTINUED