If I had to say it, I’m not some important person in my own world.
To put it simply, I’m just a weeb – a hardcore My Hero Academia fanatic.
Obsessed doesn’t even begin to cover it, to the point where I actually learned enough Japanese and worked as a translator and non-professional editor for a few tiny reading platforms.
Novels, manga, related publications, merch… I’ve bought it all, collected everything, even though I really reached the end of the road that I’d leave a pack of instant noodles sitting for two days because I was too depressed to eat, all because I genuinely loved this series, until the author turned it into something no better than a pile of pig slop…
Honestly, the ending of this series… it’s utter crap.
Or rather, it’s a disappointment for having spent my youth pursuing it.
431 chapters, and the final one was just some half-assed patchwork.
Deku barely amounted to an urban legend until All Might handed him a suit of armor out of pity.
Even then, his so-called ‘success’ felt like a confusing mess with some bullshit arguments that sound like they were written by a stoner.
He doesn’t even confess his feelings directly to Ochako, all because the author was too scared of losing the die-hard shippers to pair the main guy and girl together.
And on top of that, chapter 430 already made it clear that Deku didn’t amount to jack shit in the grand scheme of things – zero to zero – leaving me wondering what the hell this even was.
Little did I know, that very question would change my life forever.
…
It was just another ordinary Friday night.
After working with the publishing house to sign the contract to become an official translator for the studio, everything was a great day for me.
Carrying the half-price abalone I’d bought with the money from the contract signing at the studio, the fact that My Hero Academia had such a terrible ending didn’t really bother me too much anymore.
I mean, there are many manga and anime like that.
Chainsaw Man, Amazon’s The Boys, Jujutsu Kaisen…
they all have equally bad endings.
It’s a shame, but at least it’s just a work of art.
Everything would probably have gotten better if that damn thing hadn’t appeared.
A runaway truck.
Yes, a vehicle designed for anyone to isekai or certainly meet their death, crashed head-on into me at 60 km/h down the street.
And the ending was, of course, predictable.
I’m going to die no matter what, and nobody’s going to save me.
Everything was just beginning for me…
I just escaped unemployment…
HOW THE HELL IS LIFE GOING TO PLAY THIS DAMN TRICK ON ME?????????
…
I woke up in a strange room.
My first sensation wasn’t the light, but something cold, hard, and slightly damp under my back.
I was lying on a thin mattress on the floor, the kind only students or laborers would use.
The air smelled of old wood mixed with a slight mustiness, like the faint scent of old paper from the piles of textbooks stacked in the corner.
I slowly sat up and looked around.
The room was small, only about twelve square meters, almost crammed with belongings.
An old desk lamp with a faded fabric lampshade sat on a low wooden table, casting a faint, yellowish light.
Beside it was a stack of textbooks and a few old notebooks with curled covers.
A few posters were plastered on the wall – but not the anime posters I used to have at home, but rather propaganda posters about a hero: a muscular man with a radiant smile, his body covered in stars and stripes – All Might.
The picture was old, the paper faded, but that smile remained unchanged.
Through the small window, I could see outside.
A city.
But not the city I knew.
It was twilight, the setting sun painting the entire space in a smoky orange hue.
Tall buildings rose like sawteeth, their glass reflecting the reddish-orange light of the setting sun in the distance.
Neon signs began to light up in patches of green and red, the familiar yet strange Japanese characters.
On the street below, lush green trees mingled with public telephone booths and rectangular trash cans.
The air seemed bustling, the distant honking of cars mingling with the sounds of pedestrians’ footsteps.
But what caught my attention most were the giant billboards.
Not advertisements for cosmetics or phones.
Instead, they advertised heroic rescue organizations, professional registration offices, and sports tournaments featuring individuals with “personalities” – Quirks.
Images of people in eye-catching costumes with unique logos appeared on every electronic display.
I stood up, my legs trembling slightly as they touched the cold wooden floor.
My body was clad in a black gakuran-style school uniform with brass buttons, beneath a slightly wrinkled white shirt.
Thick glasses sat atop my nose.
I reached for the black schoolbag in the corner of the desk and opened it.
Inside were a few notebooks, a simple pencil case, and a plastic card: a picture of a boy with straight black hair, brown eyes, and a rather sullen expression – along with the words “Onodera Ryuga – Aldera Junior High School.”
Aldera.
My ears started ringing.
I knew that name.
Anyone who’s a fan of My Hero Academia knows that name.
Aldera Junior High – the school Midoriya Izuku attended, where he was bullied, where he dreamed of becoming a hero even without a Quirk.
No… it can’t be.
Is this the world of My Hero Academia?
I tried to recall what I’d read in the manga, but everything about this “Onodera Ryuga” was a complete blank.
What class was this character – this body I was “occupying” – in?
Who were my parents here?
What was my Quirk?
How old was I?
When was I born?
Where was I right now?
Nothing.
Literally.
I originally thought this could just be a short dream, but after pinching myself, plus feeling everything around me – the freshness and quietness of the deserted area, the sound of cars in the distance and a million other things, I was able to confirm that this was indeed true…
Fuck…
Maybe I should figure this out, but I had no idea where to start.
This was going to take some time…
…
It didn’t take long for me to realize things were starting to go terribly wrong.
As I went outside to figure out what time period it was, what I saw before me truly sent shivers down my spine…
A muddy brown-green creature was wrapped tightly around a schoolboy who’d just crawled out of a sewer, trying to force its way into him with a disgustingly smug look.
“Don’t worry.
I’m just taking over your body.
Relax.
It’ll only hurt for about 45 seconds… then it’ll feel nice and easy.”
Of all the timelines, why the hell did it have to drop me into the very first chapter?
Volume 1, Midoriya Izuku: Origin.
The scene where Izuku first meets All Might.
I was about to witness this moment with my own eyes, and it actually got me pretty hyped.
But first, Sludge possessing him??
That wasn’t good at all.
What if he couldn’t escape this?
What would happen to me?
What would happen to this world?
Calm down.
If this plays out like the manga or anime, All Might will burst out from the sewer behind us and save Izuku any second now.
But at least for now, that wasn’t happening, so… I had to save the kid myself asap, or this could get messy.
I don’t like the idea of myself being a useless person who can only watch others suffer.
At least All Might will come, if he really comes like the original.
But the longer I hesitated, the worse things got.
The body possession process was almost complete, and Izuku’s resistance was no longer as intense, as if he had accepted his fate.
And above all, his eyes…
made me feel uneasy.
It wasn’t a pleading or desperate look, nor was it a reproach for me standing still, but instead it was like he was telling me, “Run, before I harm you or anyone else.”
Do I want to run?
Yes.
Desperately.
But the truth is, even though no one would blame me for prioritizing my own life, I simply cannot leave someone to die, regardless of whether the plot might save him or not.
Damn it.
It was all for nothing…
Fumbling around, I grabbed a half-empty water bottle and chucked it as hard as I could at the boy being attacked.
“Hey, let him go you shitty pile of crap!”
Sludge turned to me, glaring with rage, then abandoned its attempt to take over the kid and lunged at me instead.
Fuck, fuck, FUCK!
The slimy mass came at me and swallowed me whole.
The brown-green muck wrapped around my body, choking me.
I tried to pull it off, but it was useless.
The bastard was too sticky—it felt like trying to rip apart a thick rubber tire.
“What are you doing?
Shut up and stay still!”
In an instant, the slime flooded into my mouth, nose, eyes… I couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe, let alone think of a way out.
My brain felt like it was on fire.
All I could hear was the Sludge’s wicked laughter.
“This vessel’s kinda mediocre, but it’ll do for now… Stop struggling and don’t worry.
It’ll be over soon.”
I kept fighting, clawing at the disgusting goo.
But it was too slippery—my hands grabbed it, only for it to slide right out.
No, I can’t die like this…
“I have to survive.
I want to see more of this world.
I want to live and change this shitty ending!”
But just as it got me, a figure burst out of the sewer – one I’d recognize even in death.
All Might, with his signature grin, punched the Sludge to let it out from me, stuffed it into an empty bottle, and tucked it into his pocket.
Then he went over to Deku – who was still freaking out from everything – and reassured him with that confident tone and some words I couldn’t quite catch…
I think I need a break…
…
My head ached terribly.
The first thing that woke me up wasn’t the light, but the pungent smell of disinfectant that assaulted my nostrils, mixed with the foul, muddy taste of sewage still lingering in my throat.
I wanted to vomit, but my stomach was empty.
“Ugh…”
“Ah!
You’re awake!”
A trembling, anxious voice rang out beside me.
I slowly opened my eyes.
The ceiling was stark white.
The beeping of the heart monitor was irritatingly monotonous.
Sitting beside the bed was a boy with messy, moss-green hair and big, round eyes staring at me as if I were a piece of porcelain about to shatter.
Midoriya Izuku.
He was gripping his pants tightly, his knuckles white with tension.
“Thank goodness…
I was so afraid you wouldn’t…” He hesitated, not daring to finish his sentence.
“The doctor said your lungs have sludge buildup and you need oxygen for a while.”
I tried to sit up, but the sharp pain in my chest made me fall back.
Memories flooded back like a fast-forwarded film.
Sludge.
The feeling of suffocation.
And All Might.
“That monster…” I asked hoarsely, my throat burning.
“Where is it?
Did All Might catch it?”
Izuku flinched, his eyes darting away.
“Ah, um…
All Might put it in a plastic bottle.
He…
he brought you here and then hurried away because…
um, time ran out…”
Wait.
I frowned.
Something was wrong.
According to the original story, All Might dropped the bottle because he was busy talking to Izuku on the rooftop.
But this time, he brought me to the hospital.
So where’s the bottle?
Just then, the loud noise from the wall-mounted TV interrupted my thoughts.
The news was airing live.
“WE’RE IN TATOIN DISTRICT!
CHAOS IS IN!
My eyes widened as I stared at the screen.
Thick black smoke billowed through the commercial district.
Flames blazed across the sky.
And in the midst of that sea of fire, a hideous, greenish mass of mud was screaming and thrashing about.
“The Sludge Villain has escaped and is taking a hostage!
The heroes Kamui Woods and Mt.
Lady are having trouble getting close!”
What the hell is this…?
I spun around to look at Izuku.
His face was deathly pale as he saw the scene on TV.
“No way…” I muttered, a chill running down my spine.
“I threw a water bottle at it…
I stalled…
All Might has arrived…”
Why is this still happening?
Why did that monster still get away?
On the TV screen, the camera zoomed in on the “hostage” being swallowed by the mud.
Ash-blonde hair stood on end.
Bloodshot eyes filled with anger and helplessness.
Bakugo Katsuki.
My heart skipped a beat.
Not because I was worried about Bakugo, but because the cruel truth had just slapped me in the face: My intervention was pointless.
Even if I nearly died, even if I messed up the timeline, the “Destiny” (Canon) of this damned world would still fix itself.
The bottle would still fall somehow.
Bakugo would still be captured.
And All Might…
I looked down at my trembling hands.
I couldn’t change anything.
Was I just a grain of sand caught in this giant wheel of the plot?
“I…
I’m sorry!”
The chair creaked loudly.
Izuku jumped up, his eyes glued to the screen, sweat pouring down his face.
He recognized his childhood friend in there.
“I have to go!
You rest, Onodera-san!”
Before I could utter a word, Izuku dashed out of the hospital room like an arrow, leaving me alone with the editor’s shouting on TV.
I knew where he was going.
He was going to do the most stupid but greatest thing in his life: rush into a fire to save his bully friend.
And me?
I flopped down onto my pillow, laughing bitterly.
A crazy fan, who boasted that he understood the world better than the author, now just lay in bed watching everything unfold exactly as I had read 10 years ago.
“Fine…
Going back to school one more time isn’t a big deal…”