Thus, my list of activities and training sessions now included sparring with Yui, which, however, quickly transitioned into training and teaching sessions. For her age, Yui was more than good, trying to keep me at a distance with her multi-meter staff, but she was still lacking in speed, and certainly lacking in experience.
That said, she managed to hit me a couple of times, and let me tell you, meeting a massive log with your body and getting sent flying by its momentum is quite an experience.
After recovering, calming Yui down, and scratching my head, I found a pair of tonfas—sort of the ancestors of police batons, but made of wood. Blocking Yui’s staff became more fun, and I started considering incorporating a similar element into my future costume.
And then... the routine set in. No joke, I think I actually started getting the hang of how to teach the youngsters, after all, I had the example of Akira-sensei right in front of me, though I couldn't angrily whip myself on the sides with a tail:
"...when you strike with your knee, don’t just lift your leg with force. Step forward and simultaneously lean back, pushing your pelvis forward and turning slightly toward the direction of the strike. This way, you increase the swing and reach of your strike by almost twice as much..."
Or:
"...and Yui, you need to learn to change the size of the staff smoothly. You have to train your body and reflexes for this style of fighting—if you enlarge the staff too slowly, you’ll lose the kinetic effect; too quickly, and you risk dislocating your shoulders or fingers. Or just dropping your weapon, like now. Honestly, I’m not even sure if it’s possible to master such a unique fighting style. But... I am confident that if anyone can handle this, it’s you, Yui. Also, it's too early for you to go to the ground; I’m not in your weight class... Oh, you just wanted to hug me? No-no, let's keep those hints at bay, I’m a thick-headed brute, you know. If you want a date, hit me with a bouquet, not a stick..."
"Ha-ha-ha!"
Time flies when you're doing what you love.
***
Then came the New Year.
The Japanese don’t really celebrate Christmas much, plus, as I’ve already mentioned, religion has taken a bit of a back seat these days.
But New Year’s—oh yes.
Though, without mandarins, without the chimes and twinkling string lights at every turn, without the salads, and without Christmas movies like "Irony of Fate" or "Home Alone," it's just not quite the same.
I’d KILL for some Olivier salad.
Wait, no, hold on, I’m supposed to be a hero larva...
Okay, then, I’d just break their legs.
Unfortunately, Olivier salad isn’t found in Japan, and you can’t make it with the local ingredients—trust me, I tried (I was three and bored at the time, but it still counts).
In my past life, I’d heard a rather funny opinion that anyone transported to an anime world must feed every anime girl a bowl of something homemade from their national cuisine. And, of course, anime girls would fall for it instantly.
For example, an American might try to serve up Chicago-style pizza or clam chowder. I had a problem here—no ingredients. A Russian-speaking person transported to this world might offer a bowl of homemade borscht... but I had a problem here, alas—I don’t like borscht, nor do I know how to cook it. A Chinese guy might try to serve Peking Duck. I had a problem here as well—my mom would probably have a heart attack if anyone besides her tried to mess with her oven.
But thoughts of Olivier salad, some spicy bratwurst, or just fries and a hamburger, or herring under a fur coat, or at least a crab stick salad... Damn, it's even hard to find decent potatoes here.
Continuing the metaphor, if an Italian guy got isekai-ed, he’d inevitably insist on feeding everyone spaghetti carbonara or tiramisu. Or a Frenchman, who might go for escargot or a fine ratatouille. A Mexican might bring out a tray of tacos or tamales...
Great. Now I'm hungry. And angry!
But what’s not there, isn’t there. No point in dwelling on the sad stuff.
And more than that, I just don't have any spare time for any of those, just daydreaming a bit.
Also, I’ve been on a strict diet for more than... seven years, maybe?..
Training, after training, after training, after studying, after training Yui, after training...
Did I choose the wrong pill? Blue or red?
... I wonder, what would a Japanese-speaking isekai traveler feed cat girls? Sashimi? Miso? Meh.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
***
Instead of the classic Christmas trees, in the anime homeland, they put up these ridiculous green brooms with decorations. Also, gifts are rarely given. And there are no holidays. And my passion mixed with nostalgia for this holiday isn’t shared by anyone. At best, people are puzzled.
And yet...
Jumping out into the street early in the morning, I eagerly inhaled the frosty air.
And yet, this is my favorite holiday, and I don't care that I’m the only one who feels this way here!
Putting on a pair of earphones playing a synthwave version of "Jingle Bells," I pulled a red Christmas hat with a pom-pom over my head, laced up my spiked running shoes, and set off for a run.
Smiling.
***
About ten minutes into my run, Yui joined me.
Silently.
But that didn’t matter; the main thing was that I clearly understood that she understood that this was important to me! And, I think she also realized that I realized that she...
Basically, who knew that the way to a man's heart was through his legs?!
... that day, I fried up some "student-style" potatoes, went to the movies, and, for the first time in many years, played some shooter game on the computer.
... Yui beat me.
Turned out to be a good New Year.
***
Back to the routine, back to the routine—oh, exams, oh, a bruise, sliding block, sweep, hold...
Unlike New Year’s, I never liked my birthday. For obvious reasons of being reborn. Maybe I should be happy about a second chance and all that, but if it were up to me, I’d celebrate just any random day in the middle of autumn.
Still, time goes on, and humans, those pesky creatures, get used to everything.
So, on February second, I discovered with cheerful surprise, like the sharp-eyed Indian Chief, that my biological body was now fully fourteen years old.
I made this discovery not in solitude, as I was dragged off to a bowling alley, and I was congratulated not just by my parents and Yui but even Akari and Mashirao! Now, I didn’t expect that from the latter, it was a pleasant surprise! Although, he stayed true to himself and gave me a kimono that differed from the one I gave him earlier only in color. Well, that’s Mashirao Ojiro, a guy with a real Imagination.
Yui gave me a chess set (probably hoping to win at least once) and a set of hand wraps for bandaging my hands—thank her for that. Despite my hardened knuckles, I regularly tore my hands up, and the wraps frayed within a week—due to the constant use of my Quirk and some parasitic loss of my “impulses.”
Akari, the little devil, gifted me... a maid cosplay costume. With cat ears.
My laughter made the windows shake.
As for my parents, they skipped surprises this time and presented a very practical gift—a professional sketchbook for hero costume designs and drawings. I draw like a chicken—not just with its foot, but with its beak—yet the sketchbook came with a catalog listing all (and in detail!) the costumes of all the officially registered top one thousand heroes in Japan. So, I started thinking.
I already had some ideas for my costume, of course. What’s my main weakness?
“Flesh is weak,” yeah.
So, first and foremost, I need armor. Compact, flexible, non-restrictive, probably without a helmet, as I’m guaranteed dead if anything blocks my view. And with good padding to absorb vibrations, because I don’t want to turn into pâté in a tin can.
Frankly, I couldn’t come up with anything better than those elbow-length gloves and high boots that Midoriya will get in the future. Except I’d add reinforced modifications to the gloves on the forearms—something like tonfas or Batman’s blades, whatever you prefer, to block blows from time to time.
And maybe some brass knuckles or just spikes on the gloves to make punching faces really effective.
And generally, I could use a weapon. A sort of last resort. A knife or a baton isn’t necessary, and firearms are as rare in Japan as finding daylight in a coal mine, plus I have no skill with them, but something ranged, non-specific... maybe bolas or just steel balls... or even rubber ones, so as not to send criminals to the afterlife without some proper suffering first...
But no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t figure anything out. In the end, everything around me is my weapon against villains. Why carry projectiles when any brick would suffice? Or the villain himself.
So I think there’s no need...
As for the color of the costume, I had no other options but dark dark gray, inconspicuous in the shadows, against the backdrop of asphalt and concrete buildings. There’s a common belief that deep black is needed for stealth, but gray is actually much better for that—Terry Pratchett even joked about it when mocking the Assassin’s Guild.
Though wait, I’m not an assassin. I’m a hero. And UA would surely reject such a “non-heroic” option at the application stage.
But wearing a bright spandex suit... which makes you a perfect target... clearly stating that you’re a hero... ugh.
The greatest compromise I could make with my rationality and desire to live to old age would be to add some bright lines on a dark base. I think I could highlight the unusual color of my eyes... plus, it would look stylish.
And a mask with a respirator would also be cool. I want to be like Sub-Zero.
And yes, by the way, I crushed them all in bowling.
Of course, I play incredibly well (sure, sure, keep telling that story), but the most important thing—I can cheat with my Quirk, adjusting the ball’s direction, scoring strike after strike! I’m awesome!
... Yui didn’t choose bowling thinking of that, did she? I’m not that easy to read, right? Oh no…
***
My birthday blinked one last time, waved its bright tail like a carp, and disappeared into the waves of routine, while I gritted my teeth and continued to grind and perfect my body, my combat skills, and my Quirk. Just a little longer. In literally a year, I’ll finally find out if it was all worth it... in just a year, I’ll already be there... in a year, I’ll almost be a superhero... in a year...
But life, even one as quirky as ours, doesn’t like to go without surprises.
Because...
In the spring, I realized I was being watched.
Illustrations:
image [https://cm.author.today/content/2024/08/27/9bca8a87b84b434c96662510d1658ac4.jpg]
Jumping out into the street early in the morning, I eagerly inhaled the frosty air...
Author's Note:
So this chapter is shorter than usual, and it won't happen in the future.
And the reason is this: guys, it's been exactly three weeks since I started posting on ScribbleHub, Webnovel, Fanfiction, Quotev, AO3, and, of course, Royal Road.
But NOW, now we need to have a talk, you and I—because I'm in desperate need of feedback!
What do you think of the book?
What are you hoping to see? Where do you think the plot is going?
Is my writing good? Do you see any mistakes?
Do you have any suggestions on how to improve your engagement with the story?
How is it even possible for Niren to get closer to All Might's... well, might?
Who is your waifu in the MHA universe? Who do you think he'll end up with?
What other fandoms do you like besides this one? What second fic would you like me to write?
Give me some responses, dear readers, I'm dying without this! Give it to me! Give Me MoRe! GIVE MEEE!!1