MHA: A Hero’s Genesis

The school day had ended as uneventfully as it began. Haruto trudged down the familiar streets, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his mind adrift. Around him, the world buzzed with life. Groups of students laughed and chattered on their way home, their carefree voices blending with the hum of traffic. Vendors called out to passersby, offering everything from skewers of grilled meat to bright candies that gleamed under the afternoon sun.

Further down the street, a small crowd had gathered near a convenience store, their necks craned upward. Haruto barely spared them a glance, already guessing the cause of their excitement. Sure enough, a hero was engaged in a skirmish with a minor villain on the rooftop above. Bright flashes of light and bursts of wind rippled through the air, drawing gasps and cheers from the spectators below.

Haruto kept walking, weaving his way through the growing crowd. He didn't stop to watch. Such scenes had become so commonplace that they hardly fazed him anymore. To the people around him, it was a spectacle, entertainment to break the monotony of their day. But to Haruto, it was a stark reminder of how fragile everything could be.

The rhythmic sound of his steps filled the silence in his mind as he drifted deeper into thought. He wasn't sure what triggered it, but suddenly he was back there—three months ago, standing outside the building where his father worked.

He could almost hear the panicked voices of the hostages inside, muffled but unmistakably desperate. The villain's demands had been broadcast through the loudspeakers, his voice cold and calculating. Haruto's father was one of the unlucky ones trapped inside, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Heroes had arrived eventually, but not fast enough. The villain had made good on his threats before they could act. Haruto still remembered the hollow feeling that had settled in his chest when the news came. The realization that no one—not the heroes, not the police—had been able to save his father.

His fists clenched at his sides as he walked, his nails digging into his palms. It wasn't just about his father anymore. How many other people had suffered the same fate? How many lives had been lost because help came too late?

The sound of children laughing nearby pulled him back to the present. He looked up, noticing a small park to his left. A group of kids were playing on the swings, their parents watching from the benches. It was a serene, happy scene, but all Haruto could think about was how easily that happiness could shatter.

"I don't ever want to feel that helpless again. And I don't want others to, either."

He tightened his grip on his backpack straps, his mind racing.

Haruto thought about his mother. Aiko had been strong for him after his father's death, but he could see the strain in her eyes, the weariness she tried to hide. She faced the quiet judgment of neighbors and the outright rejection of employers, all while carrying the weight of their little family on her shoulders.

The memory of her sitting at the kitchen table, sifting through job listings with a tired but determined expression, came to him unbidden. It wasn't fair. None of it was. And it wasn't just her—there were countless others like her, people fighting battles no one cared to see.

"If no one speaks up, nothing will change."

Heroes had a voice, a platform. If used correctly, that platform could shine a light on the injustices so many faced.

Then there were the memories from the other life. He remembered moments of unfairness he'd witnessed but hadn't been able to act on, powerless as he was. Those moments had stayed with him, haunting him. Now, with his evolved quirk and newfound abilities, he had the power to act, to change things.

He thought about the heroes in this world, the ones he'd observed from afar. Some were admirable, but others seemed to be more about fame and fortune than true heroism. Even the protagonist from the other life—Izuku Midoriya—while earnest and determined, seemed reckless, breaking his body in every fight. It was frustrating to think that someone like that was meant to lead the next generation of heroes.

"There has to be a better way."

The thought crystallized in his mind as he turned onto his street. Becoming a hero wasn't just about avenging his father or supporting his mother. It was about making a difference, using his abilities and platform to fix what was broken in the world.

By the time he reached his front door, his decision was made. Haruto wasn't going to wait for someone else to change things. He would do it himself.

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The sound of his key turning in the lock echoed faintly as he stepped inside. The familiar scent of miso soup lingered in the air, though the house itself was quiet. Haruto slipped off his shoes, placed them neatly by the door, and padded into the living room.

Aiko was there, seated at the low table with papers spread out before her. Her laptop hummed quietly, and her face was drawn in concentration. Multiple tabs were open on the screen—emails with publishing houses, a draft of Haruto's novel, and trading accounts with neat rows of numbers. Despite the activity, Aiko's expression showed a mix of determination and slight worry.

"Mom," Haruto called softly, stepping closer.

Aiko looked up, startled, her eyes softening when she saw him. "You're back. How was school?"

Haruto shrugged, dropping his bag next to the table. "The same as always." He hesitated before sitting across from her. "How's everything going with the publishers?"

Aiko sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Some are interested, but negotiations take time. They have a lot of requirements, and I want to make sure your work is protected. And trading is…manageable."

He nodded, appreciating her diligence. "Let me know if there's anything I can help with."

She smiled faintly. "You're already doing enough. Focus on school, okay?"

Haruto's gaze flickered to the open draft on the screen, the result of hours of work. He felt a swell of pride but also a sense of urgency. It wasn't enough to just support their household. He needed to do more.

"I've been thinking," he began, carefully choosing his words. "About what I really want to do."

Aiko tilted her head, giving him her full attention. "Oh? What is it?"

He drew in a deep breath. "I've decided…I want to become a hero."

Her expression froze, surprise flickering across her face. Then, slowly, her brows knitted in concern. "Haruto…are you sure? Being a hero is dangerous. It's not like the stories you write—it's real, and people get hurt."

"I know," Haruto replied, meeting her gaze steadily. "But I've thought this through. I don't want to live in a world where people like Dad die because help doesn't come in time. I don't want others to go through what we've been through."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Haruto…heroes fight villains. They put themselves in danger every day. I can't bear the thought of losing you, too."

"You won't," he said firmly. "I'll train harder than anyone else. I'll prepare for every possibility. I'm not rushing into this without thinking, Mom. I want to do this because I know I can make a difference."

Aiko shook her head, her hands trembling slightly. "You're only ten. You shouldn't have to carry this burden. Why not focus on your writing? Your novels can inspire people, too, and it's safer."

"Writing is important," Haruto admitted, "but it's not enough. There are things I can only do as a hero. I want to stop people like the one who killed Dad. I want to stand up for people like us—single parents, kids who are treated unfairly, people society overlooks. Heroes have the power to bring attention to those issues."

Her expression wavered, her resolve cracking. "But the risks, Haruto…what if something happens to you?"

"What if something happens because I don't act?" Haruto countered. "What if someone else loses their father because I wasn't there? I don't want to live with that kind of regret, Mom. And I don't want to rely on anyone else to fix things."

Aiko sighed deeply, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. "You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?"

He nodded. "I have. I'm not doing this on a whim. I know what I'm signing up for. But I also know that I can do this."

She studied him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for any hint of doubt. "You're so much like your father," she murmured, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. "He was always so determined to help others, no matter what."

Haruto reached across the table, taking her hands in his. "I promise, Mom. I'll train, study, and prepare. I'll be the best I can be, so I can stay safe while making a difference."

Her shoulders slumped in resignation, and she squeezed his hands gently. "Alright. If this is truly what you want, I won't stop you. But you have to promise me one thing."

"Anything," he said earnestly.

"You'll always put your safety first. No taking unnecessary risks. No reckless heroics. And you'll talk to me about anything you need—training, school, anything."

"I promise," Haruto said, a small smile of relief crossing his face.

Aiko sighed again, her worry giving way to reluctant acceptance. "You're my only son, Haruto. I just want you to be happy…and safe."

"I know, Mom. And I'll do everything I can to make sure I am."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of their conversation settling over them. Haruto felt a surge of determination. The road ahead would be difficult, but with Aiko's support, he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead