I didn't know how to feel at that moment, to be honest it was weird being touched without being able to see well. It didn't take me long (fortunately) to understand that I was getting literally reincarnated.
Like, not in an already existing body, but fresh out of the womb that I assume was from my mother. The process was quick and honestly quite bearable.
For me, obviously. I heard my mother crying as a nurse told her something I didn't understand. Yes, I am conscious of my previous life but I speak English, not Japanese, so I don't have any idea what these people were talking about.
So, a few months passed from that, and I understood very quickly my mother didn't want me. First of all, she named me AKUMA.
Like, Akuma Akuma. She called an innocent child "Devil." It obviously was denied the first and second time she tried, but after a lot of back and forth with the government I got the name. By that time I was incapable of moving, so I just lay in my grandmother's arms as my mother stormed the house in anger, multiple times.
As you might guess, my new self wasn't born in the best conditions for anyone. My "father" abandoned my mother when she was pregnant. We were poor, living in a one-room apartment that was maintained only by my grandmother, Hana. She was 54 when I was born, and had a little quirk that helped her sew in a more accurate way. She was a stereotypical old woman—grey hair, strong arms, and patience for a face, always smelling of a mix of lavender and perfume.
Basically fulfilling the role of my mother. Talking of which—my mother, Yui, was a tall, brown-haired woman, always tied up in a ponytail. She worked basically all day for a company that never paid her well. A cultural shock for me, if I must say. Her eyes were always tired, and it never helped she looked at me with indifference. Yes, she fed me, and yes, she took care of me, but there was always this distance between us.
Her quirk was the same as my grandmother's, maybe a little bit better. She was capable of controlling threads that formed in her hands. This maybe seems useless at first glance, but she used it to manipulate multiple things at once—although my grandmother prohibited her from using it inside the house for some odd reason. Society in this new world is strange, I must say.
In the days and nights I was a useless baby, I got to think a lot about future plans and past experiences. The Wanderer never told me exactly what he wanted, but I think I get the idea.
To change the destiny and end of this world, I need to save some lives that died in the original material. It's easy to say, but the list is somewhat large. Let's see—Himiko Toga, Twice, Midnight, some parts of Mirko, probably Bakugo? He was dead for some time. Izuku's powers, that cat girl, maybe Dabi…
My head spun with all the names and destinies those people had, and how I should intervene in them. Well, I think the answer is obvious. Joining the UA is the perfect way—but not the solution.
See, as a student of the UA, you have a lot of participation in the main story, but only the superficial events. To save some people, you definitely need to also be in the League of Villains. Quite the dilemma, huh? Well, that's a future-me problem. I can't be in all places at once, so some things can go to luck.
It's quite hard to not confuse this place with the real world if I'm being honest. This place feels so real. People aren't just robots whose only purpose is to fill a role—they feel and act like real people. "My" grandmother and my mother never appeared in a single frame of My Hero Academia, but they exist. They act like a person inside of this universe would act.
As I grew older, I realized why Izuku and Bakugo—and technically half of the world—admired All Might. With three years old in my body, I was glued to the television each time they passed a fight of the guy. No other hero made a similar impact on me. Watching that flashy style was a different kind of experience.
Also, it feels weird to say "Izuku" and "Bakugo" about two people I technically never met, though I know most of their lives. They are probably older than me by some months, but that's beside the point.
After four years of doing nothing but stand around my mother's apartment—and let me tell you, after being in college for five years, having all-nighters because of exams and crying over my bad grades—being a pure kid again felt so relieving, even with a new awful family.
I finally got to know what quirk is going to be mine. To be completely honest, I was scared that I was going to be quirkless, just like the protagonist. But no. Six months after my 4th birthday, the manifestation started.
And god, it was awful.
When I looked at my mother and my grandma's quirks, I thought maybe I would get some sort of hand-threads that I could use in combat, considering each generation of quirks evolves to be better—and the stories my grandma used to tell me about my missing father.
She told me my father was a young, aspirational man, always seeking more money (how curious), with the eyes I now have—dark as the night and always in a serious expression. That, and the white hair. That seemed to be what drove my mother quite insane, seeing that I got almost nothing from her.
His quirk was… complicated. She never knew how to describe it. He was capable of regenerating small wounds at the cost of his own body fat. Kinda odd and useless, and pretty elaborate to explain to a "kid."
But that's normal. Quirks aren't superpowers. They're just small evolutions on separate bodies, so it's normal most of them don't serve anything of value.
My case was very much different. I received my quirk at midnight. The moon was shining in the sky as I was about to go to sleep after a pretty normal day. Since I slept in a futon instead of a bed, I was getting comfortable before I noticed that I couldn't feel my leg.
I started touching around my limb, thinking it was just normal paralysis or something like that, but the moment I realized something was missing, my arm stopped working. It was shocking to see myself disappear, leaving behind only red threads instead of my actual limbs.
I screamed, obviously. That was the first time my mother looked genuinely worried for me. She screamed at my grandmother, who slept on the couch outside the bedroom, to call an ambulance.
Turns out my quirk was a pretty strong mutation—one of the most complicated that hospital had ever seen.
I will try to explain how it works.
Like I said, my quirk lineage from the maternal side was the ability to control threads, and my father had the ability of slight regeneration. Those two things merged into an unbelievable quirk.
"Moira's Threads."
That was the name I gave to the quirk sometime later. The quirk was manifested by dissolving all my organs, muscles, bones, nerves, and liquids into one single core—a 1 cm shining white sphere, located at the center of my body, around the stomach.
It was a rather quick and painless process, surprisingly. It converted all my living tissue into threads that I have full control of. The bad thing was that, if not controlled properly, these threads would just stop working—dissolving my body into a string ball. It took me around 3 months to fully understand how to move properly, and after that, years of training and full control were necessary for my end goal.
A normal kid would probably be traumatized by the incident. Being helpless and that vulnerable in a hospital bed as doctors tried to teach you how a body works so you could build one on your own could be agonizing.
But I am not a normal kid, and each day I couldn't stop thinking—
About how blessed I was by this new power.