The first thing I realized was that it was cramped. Like, Tokyo subway at rush hour cramped.
The second thing I realized was that I had a roommate. A very kick-happy roommate who had no concept of personal space.
Then came the light. The noise. The cold air hitting wet skin. And finally, the indignity of a giant masked doctor slapping my rear end.
'Okay, rude,' I thought, or at least I tried to. What came out of my mouth was a squalling cry that sounded like a dying cat. 'Great. I'm a baby. Reincarnation. Isekai. Whatever you want to call it. I hope I rolled good stats.'
I was wrapped in a towel and passed into a pair of warm, exhausted arms. I forced my blurry newborn eyes open. A woman with a round face, rosy cheeks, and tired brown eyes was looking down at me.
"He's beautiful," she whispered. "Look at him, dear."
A man leaned in, sweating profusely but smiling like he'd won the lottery. "He looks... sturdy! And healthy!"
"And his sister?"
Sister?
I tried to turn my heavy, bobble-head of a neck. Next to me, wrapped in a pink blanket, was another potato-looking creature. She was wailing. Loudly.
"She's energetic," the man laughed. "Ochaco. And for him... Kanata."
Kanata. Okay. I could work with that. Then, I heard the last name.
"Kanata and Ochaco... the Uraraka twins."
Wait.
My tiny baby brain stalled. Uraraka? As in Ochaco Uraraka? As in My Hero Academia? I looked at the crying potato next to me. That's the girl who's going to be the "Gravity Girl"?
'Okay,' I thought, trying to stay calm. 'I'm in a superhero world. That means I get a Quirk. Super strength? Fire breathing? Maybe I can just shoot money out of my hands to help Mom and Dad's construction debt?'
I focused inward. I reached into the depths of my tiny soul, looking for that spark of genetic superpower.
I didn't find a spark. I found a reservoir.
It didn't feel like the bright, biological "Quirk" energy people described in the anime. It felt thick, cold, and strangely oily. It was Cursed Energy. It was the power of negative emotions—fear, anger, stress—swirling in my gut like a dark whirlpool.
'Wait, this isn't a Quirk,' I realized, slightly alarmed. 'If I have Cursed Energy, where is my technique?'
I tried to activate it. I tried to make something float, or explode, or even just glow. Nothing. My body was too young. The "engine" of my technique was there, but the "keys" wouldn't turn in the ignition.
It was like having a high-end gaming PC but no electricity to run the monitor. I could feel the power—the cold, dark hum of it—but I couldn't do anything with it yet.
'Fine,' I thought, watching Ochaco gurgle next to me. 'Four years. That's the rule in this world, right? Everyone's Quirk pops at four. I guess my Cursed Technique is on a timer.'
I instinctively pulled a tiny thread of that cold energy into my hand. It didn't do much, but it made my fist feel heavy, solid. It felt like I could punch through a brick wall—if I could actually lift my own arm.
My dad noticed me staring intently at my own hand.
"Look at Kanata! He's so focused," he laughed, poking my cheek. "Maybe he'll be a genius."
'A genius who knows your future debt situation, Dad. We've got work to do,' I thought, closing my eyes as the exhaustion of being born took over.
Beside me, Ochaco stopped crying and grabbed my ear with a grip strength that was honestly concerning. I sighed internally.
I had Cursed Energy in a world of Heroes. I had a technique that was currently "loading," and a sister who used me as a chew toy.
'Well,' I thought, drifting off. 'At least I've got four years to practice my comedy routine before I have to save the world.'