MHA: A Hero’s Genesis

Three days had passed since the funeral service, and Haruto was still in denial—or at least he thought he should be. But this morning felt different.

The night before, Haruto had experienced something surreal. In his sleep, he had lived the life of another man, from birth to death, in vivid, first-person detail. It wasn't like a dream—it was too immersive, too real. He could see everything, feel everything, but he had no control. He was an observer, trapped in the role of a silent passenger.

The ups, downs, sacrifices, emotions, people, and even the world itself—it all felt too authentic to dismiss as mere imagination. And the strangest part? In that person's world, Haruto's own life was a fictional story, something that existed only in books and screens.

When Haruto woke up, he wasn't sure what to believe. He was still a 10-year-old boy from Saitama, mourning his father and trying to be strong for his mother. But now, he felt like someone else too, someone older, someone who had seen a lifetime's worth of experiences in just one night.

As unsettling as it was, it wasn't the only thing on his mind. Along with the memories of that other life, Haruto had woken up to something else—something that made his body hum with energy. His quirk had evolved, and his body felt... different. Stronger. Faster. Sharper. It didn't take long for him to realize what had happened. He had achieved peak human condition in every aspect—mind, body, and senses—and his quirk now covered more of his body with greater power than ever before.

It was overwhelming, but Haruto knew he had to process everything systematically. He sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, staring at the wooden planks beneath him, as he started compartmentalizing his thoughts.

First, the easy things. Peak condition? No downside there—it was nothing but an advantage. His evolved quirk? A definite upgrade, though he suspected it held potential he had yet to uncover. He flexed his hands, feeling the subtle shift in his muscles, the precision of his movements. He tested his focus, his memory, even his reflexes. Everything was... sharper. He was sharper.

Next, the memories and experiences from the other life. While confusing, they weren't as overwhelming as he initially thought. They weren't his—they belonged to someone else. Haruto could use them as a resource, a reference point when needed, and set them aside when they weren't relevant.

He thought not only of the stories he had gained from that life but also of the vast knowledge—the academic studies completed up to graduation, the practical skills learned from working for two years before death, the countless interactions with people, and the observations made about society and life. Each piece of information felt like a tool he could wield, a piece of armor against the challenges he now faced.

Still, Haruto felt a pang of unease. Those memories, as useful as they might be, carried a weight of their own. They weren't just knowledge—they were fragments of a life lived, complete with joys, regrets, and struggles. Sometimes, they felt too real, too personal, and Haruto had to remind himself that they weren't truly his. They were a gift, perhaps, but also a responsibility.

But then came the harder things. His father's death. The suffocating grief that had blanketed their home since the funeral. His mother's sadness.

Haruto let out a shaky breath as he thought of Aiko. She had been a pillar of warmth and strength for him all his life, but now, her strength was being tested like never before. He had seen her trying to smile through her tears, trying to keep everything together for his sake, but he knew how deeply she was hurting.

He thought of the relatives at the funeral, their murmurs of pity and judgment. He remembered how some of them had looked at Aiko with thinly veiled disdain, as if her status as a widow and single mother was a mark of failure. The memory made his fists clench in anger.

She doesn't deserve this, Haruto thought, his jaw tightening. She's always been there for me. She's always put me first. Now it's my turn.

He knew the responsibility of keeping their family afloat naturally fell to Aiko. But Haruto couldn't let her shoulder it alone. She had already lost her husband—he wouldn't let her lose herself under the weight of grief and societal judgment.

I can't let her handle this alone. I won't let her carry everything by herself.

Haruto's gaze shifted to the framed photo of his family on the bedside table. His father's smiling face stared back at him, full of warmth and pride. Haruto swallowed hard, his throat tightening. His father had been the foundation of their family, the unwavering support that kept everything steady. And now that foundation was gone.

And now that responsibility fell to him. It was daunting, but Haruto couldn't allow himself to hesitate.

The weight of that realization settled on his shoulders, but instead of crushing him, it seemed to solidify something within him. He thought about his father's teachings—the quiet lessons of perseverance, kindness, and courage that had shaped him. Haruto would carry those lessons forward. He would protect his mother, honor his father's memory, and build a future they could both be proud of.

For hours, Haruto stayed in his room, lost in thought. The pain of his father's loss lingered, but it no longer paralyzed him. Instead, it fueled his determination. His world had been shattered, but he would rebuild it, stronger than before.

His mind began to turn toward possibilities. He didn't know exactly how he would achieve his goals, but he knew he would. He would train harder, learn faster, and think smarter than ever before. He would use every advantage he now had, every resource at his disposal, to carve out a path for his family.

The sun began to rise outside, casting a warm orange glow through the window. Haruto barely noticed. His resolve was like steel, unyielding and unbreakable.

For his father. For his mother. For himself.

And it all began now.