The rain fell harder now and each drop hit the rubble like a tiny drum. The sound mixed with sirens, screams, the groan of collapsing buildings.
I walked forward, one step at a time.
My legs felt strange, like they belonged to someone else. Because they did.
This body, this face, and this life.
Not mine. But mine now.
The creature—the villain, the monster, whatever it was—swung its drill arm in a wide arc. The impact shattered a storefront. Glass exploded outward like shrapnel.
People scattered, and a kid tripped.
The drill came down. I should've ran for dear second life.
But my brain switched off again. It was no thinking, just moving.
The same way I ran into traffic back in my old life.
Pure Instinct.
Distance collapsed. Ten meters. Five. Two.
I reached the kid—a boy, maybe eight—and grabbed him. My body moved on its own. I twisted, pulled him close, and leaped backward.
The drill hit concrete, and the ground erupted.
Chunks of asphalt flew past my head. I landed hard, stumbled, but kept my feet.
The boy looked up at me, eyes wide, tears streaming.
"Run," I said.
My voice but not my voice. It was deeper and rougher.
She ran and I turned back to the monster.
It was already moving. The cannon hero fired another blast but it barely scratched the metal plating on its chest. The vine hero wrapped its legs, but it tore through them like paper.
They were completely outmatched.
And I was—
What?
A teenager in a torn jacket, standing in the rain, pretending I could help?
I didn't have a hero license neither did I have any training.
I didn't even know if this body had a Quirk.
But I had something else. I felt it when I clenched my fist earlier. That pressure, and that weight.
RAW POWER.
I just didn't know what kind.
The monster roared, and charged toward a group of civilians huddled behind an overturned car.
No time to think, I guess. I ran again but faster this time.
The world blurred.
But wait. That wasn't normal.
I was moving fast. Way too fast. Like not humanly possible.
The wind screamed past my ears. The ground vanished beneath me in long, impossible strides.
It took me two seconds and I crossed the length of fifty meters.
I slid to a stop between the monster, and the civilians.
It loomed over me. Four stories of twisted flesh and steel. Its three-fingered hand raised high, ready to crush.
I looked up and raised my fist.
Please work. Please be real. Please accommodate to the speed you showed.
The hand came down and I punched.
The world stopped and it was not metaphorically like poets usually do.
It was literally.
The moment my fist connected, everything froze.
The rain hung in the air.
The screams cut off mid-note.
The monster's hand—massive, unstoppable—stopped.
And then, an explosion.
The creature's arm disintegrated. It didn't break, it didn't shatter. It just obliterated.
Flesh, metal, bone, all reduced to mist. The shockwave followed a heartbeat later.
A wall of compressed air erupted outward. It tore through the rain, through the dust, through the smoke.
The monster staggered back, roaring in confusion, and pain.
I stood there, fist still extended, rain soaking through my clothes.
Staring into the unknown.
What the hell did I just do? Holy Shit.
My hand was fine. There was no pain, no damage, not even a bruise.
But the creature's arm was gone.
The cannon hero landed beside me, eyes wide behind his visor.
"Kid! What's your Quirk?!"
I didn't answer like I couldn't.
Because I didn't know.
The monster soon recovered and bellowed a sound of rage and terror as it swung its remaining drill arm at me.
Instinct kicked in again and I stepped to the side.
This felt easy.
The drill missed by inches, but the wind from its passage ruffled my hair.
I looked at the creature. And It looked at me, menacingly.
And in that moment, I understood.
I wasn't just strong.
I was absurdly strong.
One Punch Man strong. Because I had seen a similar seen in the manga where Saitama had defeated a Sea King monster.
I don't remember his name, obviously.
The realization hit me like lightning.
I have Saitama's power.
I died in my world and got transmigrated here. Into MHA and into someone else's body.
And somehow, impossibly, I had the strength of the strongest being in fiction.
The creature charged but I sighed.
Planted my feet and punched.
This time, I held back. Sort of. Thought carefully about how much strength to use.
I aimed for its center of mass. Pulled the blow as much as I could.
My fist connected.
The creature's torso caved inward. Ribs, if it had them, snapped like twigs and the metal plating crumpled like aluminum foil.
It flew backward, across the street. Through a building and out the other side.
It hit the ground a block away and didn't get up.
Silence took over.
Complete, absolute silence.
The rain started to fall again.
The heroes stared at me, and I stared at my fist.
I barely even tried. That's crazy.
The green-haired hero landed softly beside me, vines retracting into her arms.
"That was… incredible," she breathed. "Are you a pro hero? I don't recognize you."
I shook my head slowly. "No. I'm… nobody."
The cannon hero approached, limping slightly. "Nobody? Kid, you just one-shot a disaster-level villain that three pros couldn't handle."
"I didn't mean to—" I stopped.
How do you explain you didn't mean to obliterate a monster?
A speedster hero who was providing support, zipped over, skidding to a stop. "We need your name for the report. Civilian assist, at minimum. Maybe a commendation."
My name. Oh!
What's my name?
Panic spiked.
I didn't know this body's name. Didn't know anything about the person I'd replaced.
"I… uh…"
The vine hero smiled gently. "It's okay. You're in shock. That's normal after a fight like that."
She wasn't wrong.
I was indeed in shock. Like who wouldn't be after knowing that they had been blessed with Saitama's powers.
The cannon hero pulled out a tablet. "Let's start simple. Name and Quirk registration number."
"I don't… I don't have my ID on me," I said quickly. "Lost it in the rubble."
That bought me quite some time.
The speedster nodded. "Fair enough. Just stay here. Medics will check you over. We'll sort out the paperwork later."
They moved off, coordinating with other heroes arriving on the scene.
I stood alone in the rain and looked at my hands.
These hands that could destroy a monster.
What now?
I had power. Incredible, world-breaking power.
But I had no identity, no home and no idea what happened to the person who owned this body before me.
I was a ghost. A stranger in a strange land.
Thirty Minutes Later - Same Place
The medics cleared me. No injuries. Not even a scratch.
They kept saying I was lucky.
I nodded and didn't correct them.
Luck had nothing to do with it.
I walked away from the disaster zone as soon as they let me go. The heroes were busy. The media was arriving and I didn't want questions I couldn't answer.
I found an alley three blocks away and collapsed against a wall.
My legs gave out though not from exhaustion.
It was from everything.
I died and then woke up in another world. Then I came knew within a few moments that I had superpowers.
Impossibly ridiculous. Butreal. At least I hoped so.
I laughed. It was quiet yet bitter.
Then I noticed something in the jacket pocket. A wallet.
I pulled it out with shaking hands.
Inside: a student ID.
Name: Yamamoto Kaito
Age: 15
School: Eisei Junior High
Address: [Blurred, water-damaged]
I stared at the photo.
Black hair with sharp features. And tired eyes.
The face I'd seen reflected in a shattered window earlier.
Yamamoto Kaito.
That was me now.
Fifteen years old. A junior high student.
And according to the date on this futuristic ID—
Three months until UA High School entrance exams.
I leaned my head back against the wall.
UA.
The most prestigious hero school in Japan.
Where Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki—all the main characters—would be.
I was in the timeline.
Right before everything started.
And I had the power to punch through reality itself.
What am I supposed to do with this? I really feel like enrolling.
The rain finally stopped.
Moonlight broke through the clouds, casting long shadows across the alley.
I looked at the ID again.
Yamamoto Kaito.
A nobody. A background character who died in a disaster.
Except I wasn't him.
I was someone else wearing his face.
And I had no idea what came next.
But as I stood—legs still shaky, mind still reeling—I made a decision.
I'd figure it out.
One step at a time.
Starting with finding out who I was.
Or who I had been.
Before I became someone else entirely.
I pocketed the ID, and walked into the night.
Somewhere overhead, a helicopter circled the disaster zone and somewhere behind me, heroes cleaned up the mess.
And somewhere ahead—
The future waited.
TO BE CONTINUED...