THIRD PERSON POV
The classroom was thick with the humid, restless energy of students who were already mentally finished with middle school. At the front, the teacher tapped a stack of papers against his desk.
"Normally, I'd pass out these career aspiration forms," the teacher droned, before tossing them into the air with a grin. "But why bother? I know you all want to be heroes!"
The room erupted into a cacophony of Quirks, explosions, stretching limbs, and minor elemental sparks.
"Don't lump me in with these losers, Teach!" Bakugo barked, feet propped up on his desk. "I'm the only one here heading for the top. I'm gonna surpass All Might and become the richest, most famous hero ever!"
"Ah, yes, Bakugo. You're aiming for U.A.," the teacher nodded, checking his notes. "And Midoriya... you wanted to go to U.A. too, right?"
The classroom went silent for a beat before exploding into laughter. "Midoriya? The Quirkless wonder? You've gotta be joking!"
I watched Izuku shrink into his seat, his face turning beet-red. I wanted to say something, but the teacher's gaze shifted to the back of the room, directly at me. Here we go I thought
"And then we have Akabane," the teacher sighed, holding up a single, blank sheet of paper. "Riko, you didn't even bother to fill yours out. Is 'Professional Slacker' a new hero category I'm not aware of?"
I leaned back, spinning a pen between my fingers. " I was worried about you, teach thought I will give a blank sheet, So you can use the extra time to spend time with your family. I didn't want to overwhelm you, Teach."
Tick marks started appearing on the teacher's forehead until he finally snapped. " Yo-You brat, you give me the most headache out of them all. You have one of the highest physical scores in the district. So are you applying for U.A. or not?"
"Maybe," I said with a shrug. "I heard their cafeteria serves high-end ramen. If the food's good, I'll consider it."
"This isn't a food tour, Akabane! This is your future!"
And the bell rang.....
RIKO POV
Safe, I thought, as I all but teleported outta the class, leaving behind a very pissed off teach.
I made a beeline for the girls' restroom.
The moment I stepped inside, the three girls gossiping by the sinks froze. They looked at me, and collectively decided they had enough of bathroom gossip. They shuffled out in a hurry, the door swinging shut behind them.
"Great. Social pariah status: Maintained," I whispered to my reflection.
I gripped the edge of the porcelain sink, staring at myself. My head was pounding. Today was the day. The Sludge Villain. The bridge. The moment Izuku proves he has the heart of a hero and All Might decides to pass on the torch.
The plot was moving. The gears were turning. I felt a massive weight of responsibility, should I intervene? Should I make sure the Sludge Villain doesn't hurt anyone? Or do I let the "canon" happen so Izuku gets his power?
"Just stick to the script, Riko," I told myself, my voice shaking. "You're just an observer. An author. Don't break the-"
A sudden, sharp pain flared in the center of my chest. It felt like a hot needle being driven into my lungs.
I doubled over, a violent cough racking my entire body. I hacked into my hand, the sound wet and guttural. It felt like I was choking on copper. When I finally pulled my hand away, my breath hitched.
Bright, crimson blood was splattered across my palm.
"What...?"
I looked back at the mirror. A thin, steady stream of blood was trickling out of my right nostril, dripping down my lip and onto the white porcelain of the sink. I wiped my nose, but it wouldn't stop. I coughed again, and more red sprayed against the glass, blurring my reflection.
The silence of the restroom felt deafening. My heart hammered against my ribs, not with the excitement of a hero, but with the cold, paralysing fear of a dying girl.
The ROB's voice echoed in the back of my mind, a memory I had tried to bury. Issues with the soul...the price...
I stared at the blood on my hands, and thought maybe the reincarnation business wasn't that simple….
THIRD PERSON POV
The hospital smelled of antiseptic.
Riko sat on the edge of the examination table, her legs dangling. She had cleaned the blood off her face at school, but the metallic smell remained. Across from her, Dr. Tanaka stared at a series of scans with a furrowed brow, his pen tapping a rhythmic, nervous beat against his clipboard.
"Akabane-san," the doctor started, his voice heavy. "I've reviewed the blood work and the marrow biopsies. Is your father in the waiting room? I really should discuss these results with a legal guardian."
Riko didn't flinch. She looked at him with eyes that seemed far too old for a fourteen-year-old girl. "My dad's a long-haul trucker, Doctor. He's finally off the road today, but he has a heart condition. Stress-induced. If you call him in here and drop a bomb on him, you might end up with two patients instead of one." She lied through her teeth.
The doctor hesitated. "Still, professional ethics dictate-"
"I'm a professional, too," Riko interrupted, her voice steady. "I handle my own contracts, my own finances, and my own life. I'm the one feeling the pain. Tell me. I'll find the right way to tell him. I promise."
Dr. Tanaka looked at the young girl, startled by her chilling composure. He sighed, relenting as he turned the monitor toward her.
"It's an aggressive form of Osteosarcoma....bone cancer," he said, pointing to the dark shadows on the imaging. "Usually, with Quirks, we can see accelerated healing, but in your case, it seems the cellular mutation is working against us. It's resistant to standard quirk-based therapy."
Riko stared at the screen. Cancer. A very human, very mundane way to die in a world of superheroes. "How long?"
"With treatment? Maybe three to five years. Without..." he paused, looking pained. "You're looking at a year. Perhaps two, if you're lucky. But Riko, the strain of using a Quirk like yours, can shrink that timeline rapidly."
Riko didn't cry. She just nodded, memorizing the shape of the shadows on her bones. "I understand. Thanks for being straight with me, Doc."
RIKO POV
The air outside felt strangely thin. I flagged down a cab, sliding into the back seat and leaning my head against the cool glass of the window.
Two years. Maybe less if I go to U.A.
The ROB wasn't kidding about the "price." Maybe this was the tax for keeping my memories, or maybe it was that "soul conflict" he mentioned, the price of not realising what my soul wanted. I sighed, watching the city blur past. I was technically more successful now than I ever was in my previous life. I was a best-selling author, a "prodigy."
But as I stared at my reflection in the glass, a hollow emptiness gnawed at me. None of it was mine. Attack on Titan, Tokyo Ghoul….they were brilliant stories, but I hadn't built those worlds. I was just a glorified scribe, plagiarizing the masterpieces of a world I'd left behind. It was a fake legacy built on stolen genius.
The only thing that felt real….the only thing that gave me a rush of genuine satisfaction, was the thrill of the fight. The heat of the blast. The raw, physical exhaustion of sparring with Bakugo until we both couldn't breathe. The feeling of power coursing through my veins like liquid fire... I sounded like a battle junkie. Maybe I was.
The cab driver reached over, turning up the volume on the radio.
"-Incredible scenes downtown today as a villain made of sludge was apprehended near the shopping district. Witnesses say a young student recklessly charged in to save a classmate, prompting All Might himself to intervene! Both boys are reportedly safe, though shaken-"
I closed my eyes. A small, bitter smile touched my lips.
So, it happened. The "Canon" had arrived.
Izuku had done it. He ran into the fire while everyone else watched. He proved he had the heart, and All Might had surely seen it. And Bakugo... that stubborn, explosive idiot was safe. The plot was on track. The world was officially in the hands of the protagonists.
I looked at my hands, the ones that were supposed to be building a future, and felt the faint, dull ache deep inside the bone.
They're safe, I thought. The story has its hero. Then why did I feel this sudden, stinging heat in my chest? Was it... jealousy? Why was I jealous of them? Because they had a "Forever" ahead of them? Because their stories were just beginning while mine was already hitting the final chapter? I want people to remember me after I go, was it pettiness by my side, I don't care…. I think a hero's death would be great… people talking about my legacy
If I died tomorrow, who would actually mourn the "real" me? My father, Izuku, Mitsuki... they'd cry, sure. But Bakugo? He'd probably just be angry. He'd be pissed that I lost to something as mundane as cancer. He'd probably call me an "extra" and move on.
And that's what I wanted, wasn't it? I spent years trying to stay out of the plot. Trying to be the observer. The extra.
But as the neon lights of Musutafu blurred into streaks of color, I realized I was tired of being a ghost. I wanted people to remember I was here. Was it pity? Was it ego? I didn't care anymore. If I was going to go out, I didn't want it to be in a hospital bed, fading away like a footnote.
A hero's death. A legacy that people would talk about for decades. That sounded right.
No. I wanted that…needed that.
A sudden, hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat, causing the driver to glance nervously at me in the rearview mirror. I didn't care.
"Heh..." I whispered, looking at the city lights. "Bakugo... I guess your path to the Number One spot just got another challenger."
I didn't tell the driver to hurry. I just watched the world go by, wondering how many more sunsets I'd get to see before my ink finally ran dry. But for the first time in two lives, I knew exactly what I was going to do with them.
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Author's Domain
.....so my classes are gonna start, so we will eventually need to have a fixed release schedule.... though, for now I'm not worried about it, got a lot of chapters in stock. It's future me's problem, you people meanwhile enjoy the story, and comment if you like it.
peace out.