[CHAPTER 1: Awakening]
Kuroshio Kushou opened his eyes to the sky. The sharp blue stretched endlessly above him. The grass beneath his back felt soft, and a light breeze carried the scent of comfort. He sat up, disoriented, his head spinning as flashes of two lives collided in his mind.
His heart pounded. One set of memories told him he was someone crushed beneath the expectations of a world that never gave him room to breathe. The other told him he was Kuroshio Kushou, fifteen years old, born and raised in Japan, a high school student with an average life and no remarkable talents.
The flood of memories was overwhelming, but clarity came quickly. This wasn't the world he'd known.
He glanced down at himself. His hands were smaller, his skin free of the scars he vaguely remembered. He wasn't wearing his old hoodie but a neatly pressed school uniform. His reflection stared back at him from a nearby puddle—black hair, sharp gray eyes, and a face that wasn't his but somehow was.
"Okay," he muttered, his voice shaky. "This is... something."
---
The walk home from school gave him time to process. He didn't just have the memories of the original Kuroshio Kushou; he was him now. The knowledge sat heavy, a strange mix of unease and opportunity.
The people he saw while walking were different. And his new memories alone were enough to know where he was.
A world where superheroes were real, where people with powers—quirks—walked the streets.
As he approached the apartment complex that was now his home, the weight of familiarity and strangeness settled over him again.
Sliding the door open, he stepped inside, kicking off his shoes and placing them neatly by the entryway. The apartment was quiet, clean, and sparsely decorated. He set his school bag down by the low table in the living room and collapsed onto the couch with a long exhale.
---
"What the hell do I do now?" he whispered, staring blankly at the article.
He wasn't a hero. And he doesn't plan to be. From what he could gather, Kuroshio Kushou was just an ordinary student with no quirk to speak of. In other words—quirkless— In a world where power determined your worth, he was effectively powerless.
---
The hours passed in a blur as he pieced together what he could. Using the phone, he searched for more news, trying to pin down his exact place in the timeline. From his searches, the sludge villain incident had just occurred, marking the very beginning of the story.
Kuroshio leaned back against the couch, letting out a long sigh. He was at the start of it all, right before the chaos would escalate.
His thoughts spiraled into possibilities. Could he make a difference? Should he even try? A world like this one wasn't forgiving to bystanders, let alone someone with no power to protect themselves.
"Survival first," he murmured. "Figure out the rest later."
The idea of obtaining power obviously tugged at him, the same greedy impulse he'd always had. But in this world, greed wasn't just a flaw—it was a necessity. Power meant survival. Power meant freedom.
[CHAPTER END]
A/N : The name "Kuroshio Kushio" was made up and chosen because it sounded unique. And out of curiosity, I searched up the possibile meaning of this name I made up.
Given Name: Kuroshio - Black Current
Surname Name: Kushio :
Kushi, meaning "To Become Accustomed To" (To become familiar with something through repeated exposure. )
o, meaning "end"