[I'm on a writing spree sue me, joking, this was marinating for 5 months and i wanted to post it here to see where it goes, have fun, enjoy, make sure to leave comments and interact, i don't bite and i wanna get more ideas from y'all]

The world faded into black.

One moment, Hiroshi Tanaka was sitting at his cluttered desk, a half-eaten cup of instant ramen dangerously close to his expensive drawing tablet. The next, he was floating in a boundless void, with a peculiar sense of detachment from his own body.

"This is not how deadlines are supposed to kill me," Hiroshi muttered, looking around at the nothingness.

"You'd be surprised," said a voice, rich and vaguely amused, like someone who just heard a good joke and was still deciding whether to laugh.

Hiroshi spun around, or, rather, he thought he did, though movement seemed relative here. In front of him appeared a figure sitting on an oversized golden fountain pen. They had an aura of authority, dressed like some eccentric calligraphy teacher with a flowing ink-black robe.

"Welcome to the afterlife, Hiroshi Tanaka," they said, their pen-seat spinning lazily in circles. "Well, the pre-afterlife. Let's not get caught up in semantics."

"Hold on, afterlife? Are you telling me I'm dead?" Hiroshi asked, his voice rising to an unflattering pitch.

"Technically, yes. But don't feel bad. It's not every day someone dies because they choked on ramen while reading a comment about their latest fanart."

Hiroshi groaned. "You're telling me my obituary's gonna say, 'Death by ramen while arguing with a fanboy about shading techniques?'"

"Relax, kid." The being waved a hand, conjuring a clipboard that seemed to write on itself. "You're not staying dead. Congratulations, you've been selected for reincarnation!"

"Oh, great. This is one of those weird reincarnation stories, isn't it?" Hiroshi crossed his arms. "Let me guess, OP powers, a fantasy world, maybe a harem of, "

"First of all, ew," the being interrupted. "Second, I don't do generic. I'm the Inkbringer, the supreme arbiter of artistic destiny. I'm giving you a second chance, but with a twist. You'll reincarnate in a world where people have powers, call them Quirks, but you'll get a little artistic flair of your own. Sound good?"

Hiroshi tilted his head. "That depends. Do I get to pick the world?"

"Nope." The Inkbringer twirled their fountain pen like a baton. "It's My Hero Academia. You'll be reborn a few years before the main story starts. You'll be about the same age as the main cast when things kick off."

"…Could be worse, I've heard about it but I've been so cramped in deadlines I couldn't even catch up with that newly released anime, what were even the names of the cast???" Hiroshi admitted. "So, what's my Quirk? Super speed? Fire manipulation? Can I fly?"

The Inkbringer smirked. "Not a Quirk. I'm giving you the power of the Fude Fude no Mi. You can bring anything you draw to life, and you'll never run out of ink."

"Wait, the Fude Fude no Mi? Like the Devil Fruit from One Piece?" Hiroshi blinked. "That's… actually pretty sick."

"I know, right? But here's the catch, your artistic skills carry over. So, if you're a terrible artist…"

"Hey!" Hiroshi protested. "I'm a professional. I take commissions! My art pays for my instant ramen and way too many gacha rolls!"

"Then you'll be fine," the Inkbringer said with a shrug. "Oh, and you'll remember your past life, but try not to go screaming about being reincarnated. People might think you're crazy."

"Got it," Hiroshi said, cracking his knuckles. "When do I start?"

The Inkbringer grinned. "Right now."

Before Hiroshi could respond, the void warped and twisted. He felt a rush of energy, like every color in the spectrum was being poured directly into his brain.

When Hiroshi opened his eyes, he was met with a painfully bright white light. A sterile, rhythmic beeping filled the air, and the smell of disinfectant was overwhelming.

"What…?" Hiroshi tried to speak, but what came out was more of a weak, high-pitched wail. His eyes darted around, and that's when the panic hit. He was swaddled in a blanket, unable to move his arms freely, and everything felt huge.

"Oh no. Oh no," he thought, his tiny heart pounding in his chest. "I'm a baby, aren't I?"

As if to confirm his worst fears, a gentle voice cut through his panic. "He's so adorable!" A nurse cooed, bending over the bassinet. "Look at those big eyes. Such a handsome little boy!"

Hiroshi wanted to yell. Instead, he squeaked.

Over the next few months, Hiroshi begrudgingly came to terms with his situation. He was reborn into a relatively normal family in Musutafu, a bustling city with no shortage of Pro Heroes patrolling the streets. His parents were kind but busy, and Hiroshi quickly realized that Quirks were a normal part of life here.

At first, he thought he might have been reincarnated without the promised powers. Then, one day, while scribbling with a crayon, he noticed the lines of his drawing shimmer. The crude little stick figure he had drawn began moving across the page.

"Holy, " Hiroshi clapped a hand over his mouth, realizing too late that all he could manage was a garbled babble.

From that point on, he experimented in secret. By the time he was two, he could make his doodles float above the paper. By three, he had upgraded to slightly more detailed creatures, like a clumsy paper bird that flapped its wings.

But the real breakthrough came at four, when he successfully animated a small army of toy soldiers to march across his bedroom floor.

"I've still got it,don't know why I have to relearn it but I'll just throw it off to having a new body and no muscle memory whatsoever" Hiroshi muttered under his breath, grinning as the little soldiers saluted him.

He had time before canon began, time to refine his skills, time to train his powers, and time to make sure he left his mark on this new world.

Hiroshi sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor, surrounded by the chaos of his most recent creations. A miniature dragon, drawn in chalk on a spare piece of cardboard, fluttered around the room. Its wings were slightly crooked, giving it an erratic, almost drunken flight pattern, but it was alive enough to breathe a puff of harmless blue smoke. A horde of crude stick figure warriors waged a fierce battle with a doodled octopus on his desk, their clumsy attacks making him snicker.

He flicked his wrist, summoning more ink to patch up the octopus's tentacle as one of the stick soldiers tore it off. "Hang in there, Squiddy. You've got this."

With a sigh, Hiroshi leaned back against his bed and surveyed his work. "Okay, so… not exactly Pro Hero material yet."

His artistic skills had carried over, but the Fude Fude no Mi came with quirks of its own, pun intended. The more intricate the drawing, the more taxing it was to bring it to life. Anything too detailed would either exhaust him or crumble into inky goo after a few minutes. And no matter how much effort he put in, his creations retained a certain "sketchy" quality, like characters that had jumped straight out of a storyboard.

"I'm gonna need to practice more if I want to be hero-ready by the time UA rolls around." Hiroshi glanced at the poster of All Might on his wall. The Number One Hero's larger-than-life grin seemed to mock him. "I mean, I don't have to be the best, but I can't show up with this." He gestured at the dragon, which promptly crashed into the wall and dissolved into a smear of blue chalk.

His training wasn't easy, especially since he had to hide his powers from his parents. They assumed his "Quirk" was a basic animation ability and didn't know it was tied to a power far beyond the laws of their world. He preferred it that way, explaining Devil Fruits, reincarnation, and higher beings would've made him sound insane.

Instead, Hiroshi practiced in secret, using the excuse of "honing his Quirk" to get extra art supplies. He experimented with everything: crayons, ink pens, watercolors, even a disastrous attempt at using ketchup as a medium ("Never again," he muttered, still haunted by the smell). Each tool gave his creations a different texture and behavior. Crayon drawings were durable but clunky, while ink sketches were more nimble but fragile.

By the time he turned five, Hiroshi had mastered the art of summoning simple creatures like birds, fish, and small animals. He even managed to animate a rudimentary humanoid figure, a knight with a wobbly sword, but keeping it active for more than a few minutes drained him completely.

"I've got the basics down," Hiroshi mused one evening, wiping sweat from his brow after a particularly intense session. "But I'm still leagues away from being useful in a fight."

He glanced at his sketchpad, flipping through pages of half-finished concepts. Vehicles, weapons, even armor, it was all stuff he wanted to try creating but didn't have the stamina or control for yet.

"UA's hero course isn't gonna wait for me to catch up," he muttered, tapping his pen against his chin. "I need a game plan. Something to make me stand out."

His opportunity to test his powers came sooner than expected.

It started as a normal day in Musutafu. Hiroshi was walking home from school, his backpack heavy with art supplies and half-eaten snacks. He had just turned the corner onto his street when a commotion caught his attention, a loud crash followed by panicked screams.

"What the…?" Hiroshi froze, his heart racing. Ahead, a small convenience store had been smashed open, its windows shattered. A villain, a hulking man with stone-like skin, was stomping out of the store, holding a sack of stolen cash. A Pro Hero was nowhere in sight.

Hiroshi's first instinct was to run. He wasn't a hero, not yet. But then he saw her.

A little girl, no older than four, was standing frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, clutching a stuffed rabbit. She was directly in the villain's path, and her parents were too far away to reach her in time.

Hiroshi's grip tightened on his sketchpad.

"You've got this," he whispered to himself, flipping to a fresh page. "No time to think, just draw!"

He crouched behind a parked car, his pen moving like lightning across the page. A wolf took shape, its body lean and muscular, with sharp eyes and fangs bared. It was one of his fastest sketches, lacking polish but brimming with raw intent.

"Go!" he whispered, channeling his energy into the page.

The wolf sprang to life, leaping off the paper in a burst of ink. It hit the ground running, charging straight toward the villain.

"What the, ?!" The villain stumbled back as the wolf lunged at him, snapping at his legs. Though it lacked the strength to do real damage, its ferocity was enough to make the villain retreat a step.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Hiroshi darted forward, grabbing the little girl and pulling her to safety.

"You're okay now," he told her, his voice shaking. "Stay with your parents."

The girl nodded, tears streaming down her face, as Hiroshi turned his attention back to the scene. The wolf was already starting to dissolve, its ink dripping onto the pavement. The villain growled, his gaze locking onto Hiroshi.

"Looks like you've got a death wish, kid."

Hiroshi's hands trembled as he flipped to another page, but he forced himself to grin. "Death wish? Nah. I'm just getting started."

The villain's glare burned into Hiroshi as he furiously scribbled on his sketchpad, his pen trembling just slightly. "Okay, Tanaka," he muttered under his breath, "you're facing a giant rock guy with anger issues. No pressure, right?"

The wolf had worked as a distraction, but it wasn't enough to stop the villain entirely. Hiroshi needed something bigger. Faster. Stronger.

His pen moved with frantic determination, forming the outline of a large, muscular creature. It had long, powerful legs, clawed hands, and a serpentine tail. The creature's body was angular and jagged, designed to look intimidating. He didn't have time to finesse the details, but it didn't matter, he just needed it to work.

As the final line connected, Hiroshi poured his energy into the drawing. The page glowed faintly, and with a wet splatter of ink, the creature leapt off the paper and onto the ground.

The villain took a step back as the ink monster roared, its inky black body towering over him. "What the hell is that?!"

"That," Hiroshi said, holding up his sketchpad like a badge of honor, "is what happens when you mess with a guy who spends too much time in art class."

The monster charged forward, its clawed hands swiping at the villain's legs. The rock-skinned man raised an arm to block, but the creature was quick, darting around him with surprising agility. Its tail coiled around the villain's ankle, pulling him off balance and sending him crashing to the ground.

"Got him!" Hiroshi cheered under his breath, but the celebration was short-lived.

With a furious growl, the villain slammed a fist into the ground, sending a shockwave that rattled the street. The ink monster stumbled, its form flickering like static on a broken TV.

"Not good," Hiroshi muttered. The more stress he put on his creations, the more unstable they became. He didn't have much time before this one dissolved completely.

The villain pushed himself to his feet, his gaze now fully locked onto Hiroshi. "You think you can stop me with your little doodles?!"

Hiroshi's palms were slick with sweat as he flipped to a new page. "Plan B, plan B…" he muttered, his mind racing. He didn't have the stamina for another big creature, so he went for something smaller, a swarm of tiny, buzzing insects. It was quick, messy, and utterly chaotic.

"Go!" he commanded as the swarm burst from the page, zipping toward the villain like a cloud of angry wasps.

The ink bugs weren't strong, but they were irritating. They buzzed around the villain's head, darting into his eyes and ears, forcing him to flail wildly in an attempt to swat them away.

"I don't get paid enough for this!" the villain shouted, throwing the sack of stolen cash to the ground. He stomped off, batting at the bugs as he disappeared down a nearby alley.

Hiroshi let out a shaky breath, his knees buckling as he leaned against the nearest wall for support. The ink monster and the swarm dissolved into black puddles on the pavement, leaving behind only faint smudges as evidence of their existence.

"That… was way too close," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Hiroshi turned to see the little girl he had saved earlier. She was standing with her parents now, clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly. Her wide eyes were filled with a mix of awe and concern.

"I'm fine," Hiroshi said, forcing a smile. "Just doing my civic duty."

Her father stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Thank you, young man. You saved our daughter. What's your name? Are you a student at UA?"

"Uh…" Hiroshi froze. He couldn't exactly explain that he wasn't officially a hero, or that his power wasn't even a Quirk. "Yeah," he lied quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm… training to get in."

"Well, you've got what it takes," the father said with a smile. "We're lucky you were here, I won't go reporting to the feds about illegal quirk usage as a thank you for saving us so get along"

Hiroshi nodded awkwardly, mumbling something about needing to get home. As he walked away, his legs felt like jelly, but a strange warmth settled in his chest.

For the first time since being reincarnated, he felt like he had actually done something with his powers.

Back at home, Hiroshi collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. "That was a disaster," he muttered. "But also… kinda awesome."

The thrill of using his abilities in a real-life situation was unlike anything he'd felt before. Sure, he was exhausted, and the ink-stained pages in his sketchpad were a grim reminder of how unpolished his powers were, but for the first time, he felt like he had a real shot at being a hero.

________________________________

The warm glow of the late afternoon sun filtered into Hiroshi's room, illuminating the mess of papers, ink bottles, and sketchpads scattered across the floor. His most recent creation, a pudgy, ink-drawn cat, sat atop his desk, batting lazily at a crumpled piece of paper. It was the most stable drawing he'd managed all week, and Hiroshi was feeling pretty proud of it.

"Alright, Inky," Hiroshi said, leaning back in his chair and pointing a pen at the cat. "You're officially the longest-lasting drawing I've made so far. Two hours and counting. How do you feel?"

Inky meowed in response. It wasn't much of a conversation partner, but Hiroshi liked the company.

"I'm getting better," he muttered to himself, spinning his pen between his fingers. "But it's still not enough. If I can't make my creations stick around longer, how am I supposed to fight villains for real?"

He glanced out the window, where a Pro Hero zipped through the sky, trailing flames. Hiroshi sighed. "Man, I bet he doesn't have to deal with his Quirk melting into puddles after an hour."

The door to his room creaked open, and Hiroshi's mom peeked inside. "Hiroshi? You're talking to yourself again. Are you practicing your Quirk?"

"Y-yeah!" Hiroshi scrambled to hide his sketchpad under a pillow. His mom knew he had a "drawing Quirk," but he didn't want her to see the half-finished schematics for a two-headed dragon that he'd been working on.

"Well, don't stay cooped up in here all day," she said, smiling. "Go outside for a while. The other kids are playing at the park. Make some friends, okay?"

"Sure, sure," Hiroshi replied, waving her off. As the door clicked shut, he groaned and flopped onto his bed.

"Friends, huh?" he muttered. "I'm five. What am I supposed to talk about with other kids? Taxes?"

Hiroshi sat on a bench near the playground, his sketchpad balanced on his knees. His mom had insisted he leave the house, so here he was, surrounded by screaming kids and hovering parents. He'd brought his art supplies to pass the time, and now he was doodling a tiny, round turtle.

"Whoa! Cool turtle!"

Hiroshi nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked up to see a boy about his age peering over his shoulder. The kid had spiky blond hair and a cocky grin, and there was a hint of soot smudged on his cheeks.

"Uh… thanks," Hiroshi said, instinctively shielding his drawing.

"Does it move?" the boy asked, bouncing on his heels. "My Quirk lets me blow stuff up, but that's way cooler!"

Hiroshi blinked. "Wait, your Quirk is explosions, and you think this is cool?"

"Duh. Make it move!"

Hiroshi hesitated, but the boy's excitement was infectious. With a quick swipe of his pen, he finished the turtle's details and willed it to life. The little creature blinked, stretched its stubby legs, and began waddling across the page.

"Whoa!" The boy's eyes lit up. "It's alive! That's so awesome!"

The commotion caught the attention of another kid, a freckled boy with messy green hair and a notebook tucked under his arm. He shuffled over, looking both nervous and curious.

"H-hi," the green-haired boy said softly. "That's… an amazing Quirk you have. Is it a mutation type? Or maybe emitter?"

"Uh, emitter, I guess?" Hiroshi replied, scratching his head. "It's… complicated."

"Midoriya, stop geeking out!" the blond kid said, rolling his eyes. "You're gonna scare him off."

"Sorry, Kacchan!" Midoriya said quickly, bowing his head.

"Kacchan, huh?" Hiroshi raised an eyebrow. "You got a name, or should I just call you Boom Boy?"

The blond kid grinned, puffing out his chest. "It's Bakugo Katsuki. And I'm gonna be the Number One Hero someday, so you better remember it!"

"Oh, I'll remember it," Hiroshi said, smirking. "You're loud enough to leave an impression."

Bakugo glared at him but didn't seem offended. "And what about you, Ink Guy? Got a name?"

"Hiroshi Tanaka," he replied. "Artist extraordinaire. You're looking at the future Pro Hero who's gonna have the coolest sidekicks." He gestured to the ink turtle, which was now climbing down the bench leg.

Midoriya's eyes sparkled. "Do you think I could write about you in my Quirk analysis notebook? I'm trying to study as many different Quirks as I can!"

"Knock yourself out, Green Bean," Hiroshi said with a chuckle.

"His name's Midoriya," Bakugo said, scowling. "And stop being so polite, Deku."

Hiroshi watched the two boys bicker with a grin. For the first time in a while, he felt like he wasn't just an outsider.

Hiroshi returned home tired but in high spirits. He placed his sketchpad on his desk and stared at the blank page for a moment.

"Bakugo Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku," he mused, his pen hovering over the paper. "Loudmouth and Green Bean. I kinda like those guys."

He started sketching, a crude caricature of Bakugo yelling while Midoriya scribbled in his notebook. It wasn't his best work, but it made him laugh.

"Maybe this hero thing won't be so bad," Hiroshi said, leaning back in his chair.

Inky hopped onto his lap, purring softly, and Hiroshi scratched its head. Tomorrow, he'd train harder. But for tonight, he let himself enjoy the feeling of belonging, however small it was.

The next morning, Hiroshi woke up feeling unusually energized. The events of the previous day, meeting Bakugo and Midoriya, getting his ink creations to last longer, played in his mind like a highlight reel. For the first time since being reincarnated, he felt like he was finally making some progress, not just as an artist but as someone who could one day be a hero.

"Alright," he muttered, throwing on a T-shirt and grabbing his sketchpad. "New day, new goals. Let's see if I can actually make something that doesn't dissolve after an hour."

Downstairs, the smell of breakfast wafted through the air. Hiroshi's mom was humming to herself in the kitchen, flipping pancakes, while his dad sipped coffee and read the news on his phone.

"Morning, champ," his dad said, barely glancing up.

"Morning," Hiroshi replied, sliding into his seat at the table.

His mom placed a plate of pancakes in front of him, the top one decorated with a sloppy smiley face made of syrup. "Big plans today, Hiroshi?"

"Yeah, gonna practice my Quirk," he said between bites. "You know, the usual."

His dad smirked. "Try not to ink the walls again. Took me an hour to clean up last time."

"That was an accident!" Hiroshi protested, cheeks puffing with indignation.

His mom laughed. "Just try to keep the chaos contained to your room, okay?"

After breakfast, Hiroshi holed up in his room with a single-minded determination. Today was going to be the day he leveled up. No distractions, no interruptions, just him and his art.

He started small, sketching a flock of tiny birds. They flitted around the room, chirping in harmony before dissolving into a gentle rain of ink. Next came a lumbering bear, its inky paws leaving smudges on the floor as it padded back and forth. He even experimented with combining colors, mixing red and black to create a fiery serpent that slithered across his desk.

But it wasn't enough. No matter how detailed or creative his drawings were, they all fell apart after a short time.

"Ugh!" Hiroshi groaned, flopping onto his bed. "What am I missing?"

Musutafu Park was lively as usual, with kids running around and parents chatting on benches. Hiroshi sat under a shady tree with his sketchpad, trying to clear his head. His recent failures were starting to get to him, and he needed a fresh perspective.

"Hey, Ink Guy!"

Hiroshi looked up to see Bakugo stomping toward him, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Midoriya trailed behind him, clutching his ever-present notebook.

"Oh great, Boom Boy's back," Hiroshi said with a smirk. "What's up?"

Bakugo plopped down next to him, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "I wanted to see more of those cool drawings of yours. Got anything new?"

"Depends," Hiroshi said, flipping through his sketchpad. "You looking for something cute, or do you want a dragon that can eat you?"

Bakugo's grin widened. "Definitely the dragon."

Midoriya hesitated before sitting cross-legged on the grass. "I'd love to see more too," he said, his tone shy but earnest. "Your Quirk is so unique. I bet you could do amazing things if you trained hard enough!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm working on it," Hiroshi said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it's harder than it looks. Keeping these things stable takes a ton of focus."

"Then stop whining and practice more," Bakugo said, snatching the sketchpad from Hiroshi's lap.

"Hey!" Hiroshi lunged for it, but Bakugo held it out of reach.

"This one's cool," Bakugo said, pointing to a half-finished sketch of a knight wielding a massive sword. "Why isn't this guy stomping around yet?"

"Because he's not finished!" Hiroshi snapped, snatching the pad back. "You can't just activate something halfway done, or it'll look like a walking disaster."

Midoriya's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Wait, so the more detailed your drawings are, the stronger and more stable they become?"

"Pretty much," Hiroshi said, his tone grudging. "But it also drains me faster, so it's a balancing act. Too much detail, and I'll pass out before the thing even moves."

"Sounds like a you problem," Bakugo said with a snort.

Hiroshi glared at him. "You wanna try drawing something, Explosion Boy? Let's see how far you get with stick figures."

"Stick figures are all I'd need to beat you!" Bakugo shot back, sparks crackling from his palms.

Midoriya raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Let's not start a fight here! We're all friends, right?"

Hiroshi and Bakugo exchanged a look, then reluctantly sat back down.

"Fine," Hiroshi muttered. "But only because I don't feel like explaining to my mom why I got into a fight with a walking firecracker."

"Whatever," Bakugo said, crossing his arms.

For the next hour, the three of them sat together, chatting and experimenting with Hiroshi's drawings. Bakugo insisted on "testing" the creations' strength by punching them, while Midoriya bombarded Hiroshi with ideas for potential applications.

"You could make a giant shield!" Midoriya suggested.

"Or a mech suit!" Bakugo added.

"Or a giant ink pie to throw at your face," Hiroshi deadpanned.

By the time the sun started to set, Hiroshi felt lighter. His earlier frustrations seemed distant, replaced by a growing sense of camaraderie.

As they packed up to leave, Bakugo clapped him on the back. "You're not bad, Ink Guy. Maybe one day you'll even be as strong as me."

"I'll hold you to that, Boom Boy," Hiroshi said with a grin.

Midoriya smiled softly. "I think you're already amazing, Hiroshi. You've got something really special."

Hiroshi paused, caught off guard by the sincerity in Midoriya's voice. "Uh… thanks, Green Bean."

That night, Hiroshi sat at his desk, staring at his sketchpad. For the first time, he felt like he wasn't alone in this crazy world. He had allies, friends who believed in him.

"Alright," he said, picking up his pen. "Let's see what I can do with this."

The page filled with bold, confident lines. A new creation began to take shape, sharper and more detailed than anything he'd drawn before.

"The world of heroes isn't ready for this artist," Hiroshi said, a grin spreading across his face.