A siren wails in the distance. It sounds like it's coming closer, and with it, the sound of rushing footsteps. People are coming. I wake up with a start, the world around me a blur of colors and shapes. The smell of rubber and gasoline lingers in the air, the sound of a truck's engine fading into the distance. My body feels heavy, as if made of lead, and something tells me this isn't my bed. In fact, I don't recognize anything about my surroundings. The last thing I remember is crossing the street, the sun setting, and then—wham!—everything went dark.
Blinking rapidly, I try to sit up, but a sharp pain shoots through my head. I groan and fall back onto the cold, hard surface. The pain subsides and I realize I'm in an alleyway. The shadows stretch out, playing tricks on my eyes as I struggle to focus. The buildings look...different. They're tall, with a mix of futuristic and traditional architecture that's unfamiliar to me. And the people walking by are dressed in a way that screams 'not my world.' They're all in colorful uniforms, some with what look like superhero emblems. Did I hit my head harder than I thought?
A name floats into my consciousness. Karma. That's right. The world of My Hero Academia. But how? I'm not supposed to be here. I'm just a regular person, not a superhero with a Quirk. But something's...off. I try to lift my hand to inspect myself, and to my astonishment, it moves with an ease that seems almost unnatural. Looking down, I see it hovering above the ground, unsupported by anything but the will of my mind. I gasp. It's like I'm seeing it from a third-person perspective.
A piece of paper flutters by, caught in a gust of wind. Without thinking, I extend my finger, and the paper darts towards me, stopping just before my fingertip. I can feel the energy coursing through me, a strange force that responds to my every thought. It's like I've been plugged into a power source. And suddenly, it clicks. This isn't just any body. This is the body of a hero. The power of telekinesis. I can manipulate objects with my mind.
Panic sets in. What the hell is going on? Did I hit my head too hard? Is this a coma dream? But the world feels too real, the sounds too vivid, the smells too...potent. I can't shake the feeling that this is reality. And if it is, what the fuck do I do now? I've got a superpower in a world where people are expected to be heroes or villains. And I'm neither. I'm just a confused person who got hit by a truck.
I need to get up, figure out where I am. But my body feels weird. Different. Like it's not quite mine yet. I push myself onto my elbows and everything wobbles. The world spins and my stomach lurches, but I don't puke. Small mercies. Slowly, I get to my feet. The alley is empty, thankfully. I don't want anyone to see me like this, stumbling around like a newborn deer. The cobblestone street is slick with something wet, probably rain from earlier. My shoes stick to it with a sound that echoes through the narrow space.
I close my eyes trying to remember what happened. I'm trying to remember if I can recall anything about this body. Because I can't stay out in this rain. I can't remember anything about how I got into this narrow alleyway.
I close my eyes and concentrate on the memories of this body. It's like sifting through someone else's photo album, but the images are fuzzy. I remember the layout of the city, the turns and twists of the streets. The power in my mind starts to cooperate, pulling at the strings of the world around me. I focus on the house I used to live in, the one from the memories I've inherited. It's a few blocks away, I think. I can make it.
Taking a deep breath, I step out of the alley. The street is quieter now, the siren a fading wail. I start to walk, using the telekinesis to keep my balance. It's a strange sensation, my mind guiding my movements more than my body. The buildings rush by in a blur as I navigate the sidewalks, trying to ignore the stares from passersby. They must think I'm some kind of Quirkless freak, stumbling along like this. But I can't let it get to me. I have to get to the house.
As I turn the final corner, the familiar sight of the two-story building with the blue door comes into view. Relief floods through me, and for a brief moment, I consider running the rest of the way. But I hold back, keeping to a casual stride. I don't want to draw more attention than necessary. The house is dark, but that's expected. It's late, and whoever lived here before me would be asleep by now. I approach the door and reach for the handle, my heart racing. What if someone's inside? What if they know I'm not supposed to be here?
But the door swings open with ease, and I'm met with a chilling scene. The living room is a mess, furniture overturned and a smell of copper fills the air. A pool of blood has congealed on the floor, and there, in the center of it all, are the bodies of my parents and my sister. They're lifeless, eyes wide open in a silent scream of terror. The blood is sticky under my shoes, and bile rises in my throat as I realize what happened. A Quirk-related crime. The kind of thing that happens all too often in this world. And now, I'm a part of it.
Memories flood my mind, not mine but the body's. A masked figure, a villain, breaking into the house, demanding to know where 'it' was. My 'sister' screaming, my 'father' trying to fight back, and my 'mother' begging for mercy. The struggle was short-lived. The villain had killed them, searching for something they thought was here. But why? What could be so important that it was worth their lives?
Shaking, I pull out the phone from the pocket of these unfamiliar clothes. It's like holding a foreign object, but I know what to do. I dial the emergency number and try to keep my voice steady as I explain what I've found. The operator's voice is calm and collected, a stark contrast to the chaos in my head. They ask for my location and I give it, adding that I need help. The sirens from earlier now make sense, a grim reality setting in that this isn't just a random crime scene. The villain is still out there, and the cops are on their way.
I wait outside for the cops to arrive. While I wait I think about all of the memories that I have of the parents. The guilt that I'm feeling feels foreign to me. It feels like I'm grieving for somebody that I never knew. But yet deep down it hurts harder than in my past life.
The first siren is faint, but it quickly grows louder, piercing the quiet night like a shrieking beacon of hope and dread. The flashing lights of the police car come into view, and I feel a mix of relief and terror. This is it. They're going to know I'm not who I'm supposed to be. They're going to know I'm an imposter.
The car skids to a halt in front of the house, and two officers jump out, guns drawn. "Freeze!" one of them yells. I obey, raising my hands and trying to keep my breathing steady. They're tense, their eyes darting around, looking for a threat. But all they'll find is me, a Quirkless kid with the power to move paperclips and the weight of a tragedy I never asked for.
"I'm the one who called," I say, my voice shaking. "My family—" I can't even get the words out. The reality of it hits me like a sledgehammer. This isn't a TV show or a comic book. This is real. This is my life now. The cops exchange a look, and then one of them, a tall, stern-looking woman, holsters her weapon and approaches me.
"You okay, kid?" she asks, her voice softer now. I nod, not trusting my voice to hold steady. "What happened here?"
I tell them what I remember from the jumbled mess of memories that aren't really mine. The break-in, the fight, the screams. I leave out the part about being from another world, about the power I've just discovered. That's one secret I'm not ready to share yet. The cops listen, scribbling notes on their little notepads. They don't look surprised or skeptical. In this world, weird shit happens all the time. They've seen worse, I'm sure.
As they move inside to investigate, I'm left outside with the other cop, a younger man with a nervous twitch in his cheek. He keeps glancing at me like he's expecting me to sprout another head or start levitating. "You know," he says, his voice low, "you're pretty lucky to have made it out of there."
I nod again, not knowing how to respond. Lucky? I don't feel lucky. I feel lost. Lost in a world where the rules have changed and the stakes are higher than I ever could've imagined. The house, my house, is now a crime scene, taped strung across the doorway like a morbid party decoration. I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to step inside again without feeling the echoes of that nightmare.
I asked if they ended up catching the villain. Because before I blacked out I managed to contact the police and I woke up to the sirens with a bleary mind and a new body. They exchange glances, and the woman nods to the young cop. He clears his throat, shaking his head. "Not yet, but we're on it. We're going to catch whoever did this." His voice is firm, but I can hear the sadness beneath it. This isn't their first tragedy, I realize. It won't be their last.
The woman notices my trembling and gently places a hand on my shoulder. "Why don't you come with us, we'll get you someplace safe." I nod, unable to argue. I'm in no state to be alone right now. We get into the back of the police car, and I watch the world pass by, my mind racing. The weight of the power I've inherited is sinking in. I've got to keep it hidden, at least until I understand what it means, and how to use it responsibly.
I decide once this is over I'm going to go to Takoba Municipal Beach Park to test out my powers. Because I feel strong enough to lift up this car. But it could be just because I was trans migrated with an ability I've never tried. My power is are probably a lot weaker since I'm not the main character. Speaking of which I don't even know how old I am. I look to my memories and I'm around the age of izuku Midori in the main plot. Meaning I have about 10 months before the UA entrance exam. Looking through my memories I was going to take it in 10 months.
The police take me to the station, the bright lights and cold metal making me feel even more out of place. They ask me questions, but all I can do is repeat the same story over and over again. They're kind enough to pay for a hotel for one week because my house is being cleaned up.
I'm able to live freely since in this body I no longer have parents. I'm glad I was transmigrated and I don't have parents. But I wish I didn't have to go through that terrible experience at the start. During that week of me staying in the hotel I get read my parents will. And I'm given a bunch of money from their life insurance. In the world of villains and heroes it is common for many families to have life insurance. It was a common practice back in my old life as well in America.
The sum is more than I ever had in my entire life. It's enough to live comfortably for a few years without working. I feel a mix of emotions, mostly relief. I don't have to worry about money while I figure out how to live in this world, how to train my power, and how to get into UA. It's a silver lining in the dark cloud that is my new reality.
But the money also feels like a burden. It's blood money, paid out because my new family was killed. I can't help but feel guilty, like I'm cashing in on their tragedy. I decided to use it wisely until I get into UA.
After the week I'm finally able to go back to my house. It's weird seeing it so clean after what happened. It feels like it was all a bad dream. But I know it's not. I know I have to move on, but first, I need to get stronger. I need to train my powers so I can maybe one day find whoever did this and make them pay.
So I head to Takoba Municipal Beach Park. It's a quiet place, not many people around, especially this time of year. The chilly wind off the ocean whips through my hair as I walk down to the beach. The sand is cold and the waves crash against the shore, a rhythmic beat that matches my racing heart. It's the perfect place to be alone with my thoughts, and my power. It smells terrible though with all of the trash around. Piles and piles of trash. Building trash mountains. I compare it meteor city from hunters x hunter. Just on a smaller scale.
I decide to start training. I start small, lifting a pebble and moving it in a circle around my hand. It's a strange sensation, like my mind is reaching out and touching the very fabric of reality. I feel the weight of it, the texture, all without actually physically feeling it. It's like my brain has been given a new sense. I'm fascinated, and a little scared.
As I get more comfortable, I start to push myself. I move to bigger rocks, then small chunks of driftwood. The power in my head grows stronger, more responsive. It's like playing a video game, only this is real. The wind picks up and I laugh as I send sand flying in patterns across the beach. It's liberating, exhilarating. For the first time since I woke up in this world, I feel alive.
But I know I can't stop here. I need to see what I'm really capable of. I spot a broken TV in a pile of trash, about the size of my limit. I focus, and with a silent command from my mind, it lifts into the air. It hovers there, the wind playing with the loose cords. The weight isn't much to me anymore. It's like holding a feather. I move it around, the glass screen reflecting the moonlight. It's a strange dance, me and this inanimate object.
I push further, trying to lift a metal bench. It groans against the concrete, but it doesn't budge. The strain in my head is intense, like my brain is trying to bench press a car. I grit my teeth and keep pushing, sweat beads forming on my forehead. But no matter how hard I try, the bench won't move. I realize my limit is a lot closer than I thought. Ten pounds. That's all I can lift with my telekinesis. It's a sobering thought. In a world of giants, I'm a gnat.
But I can't get discouraged. I've got to make the most of what I have. I start to practice precision, moving smaller objects faster and more accurately. I can see the potential, the way a conductor might see the potential in a violinist's trembling hands. Maybe I'm not strong enough to lift cars, but maybe I can be quick enough to dodge them. Or better yet, redirect them.
I find a small rock and send it hurtling towards a metal trash can. It hits with a clang, ricocheting off and landing in the sand. Not bad. I repeat the process, adjusting my aim, pushing the rock to move in different arcs and trajectories. Soon, I'm playing a twisted game of darts, the can my board. The clangs become a rhythmic symphony, a cacophony of metal on metal that echoes through the empty park.
The next day, I'm back at the beach, pushing my limits further. I find a paper airplane in the trash and send it flying, weaving in and out of the trash cans like a pro. It's a simple thing, but it makes me smile. Maybe I can use this power for more than just fighting. Maybe I can entertain, like a street performer. Or better yet, maybe I can use it to help people, in my own way.
But the smile fades as I remember the reason I'm here. The villain who took my new family from me is still out there, and the cops don't seem to be any closer to finding them. I need to get into UA, to become a hero, to get stronger. And to do that, I need to train my Quirk to the max.
The next morning, I take the insurance money and set out to find a place to train. I've heard of a dojo that's supposed to be the best in the city, one that's produced a couple of pro heroes. It's a shot in the dark, but it's the best lead I have. The dojo is tucked away in a nondescript building, sandwiched between a convenience store and a laundromat. The sign above the door is faded, but the kanji for 'strength' is unmistakable.
I step inside, the scent of sweat and discipline hitting me like a wall. The mats are worn, and the walls are lined with posters of heroes and their epic battles. The sensei, a stern-looking man with a scar over one eye, looks up from his desk and assesses me with a critical gaze. I explain my situation, leaving out the part about being from another world, of course. He nods thoughtfully, then stands up and extends a hand. "I'm Sensei Tenga," he says, his grip firm but not crushing. "What's your name?"
"Karma," I reply, the name feeling both new and familiar on my tongue. "I want to train my martial arts."
Sensei Tenga raises an eyebrow at my declaration. "Very well, Karma. We'll start with the basics, and we'll see where your potential lies." His voice is gruff but not unkind.
The dojo is a flurry of activity, students of all ages and abilities training under his watchful eye. Some are practicing punches and kicks, others are honing their Quirks in a controlled environment. The room is filled with the sounds of grunts, thwaps, and the occasional thud as someone lands a hit. It's overwhelming, but I feel a spark of excitement at the prospect of learning.