Two years had passed since the crushing disappointment at the pediatrician's office, and because of desperation Kaito Arisaka had officially entered his "Peak Delusion" phase.
At eight years old, he had moved past the simple desire for a "System" and had graduated into the dangerous territory of spiritual arrogance.
He was convinced that his Quirk wasn't a physical one, but a sovereign on a power that demanded he view the world not as a playground, but as a kingdom.
Kaito sat on the low stone wall bordering the Arisaka Hardware Shop, his small frame rigid, his eyes narrowed into slits that he hoped looked "haunting" rather than "sleepy."
His target was Boss, the neighborhood's undisputed feline overlord. Boss was a battle-scarred calico who ruled the local trash cans with an iron paw, and to Kaito, he was the perfect first subject for a King.
'The doctor said the hardware is there, but the software is missing,' Kaito mused, his internal monologue adopting the cold, detached rhythm of a dark protagonist.
"But software is irrelevant to a sovereign. A King does not ask for permission to run; he simply commands reality to exist."
In his previous life, he had been fascinated by the concept of hidden rulers beings like Imu who sat upon empty throne and decided the fate of the world with a whisper.
He decided that if he wanted his dormant Quirk to wake up, he had to stop acting like a boy and start acting like a god. He began to refer to his own will in the third person, a mental trick to distance himself from his own eight-year-old limitations.
.....
"...Mu," he whispered, testing the weight of the ancient-sounding syllable. "Mu... desires your submission.
He leaned forward, pouring every ounce of his "reincarnator soul" into his gaze. He wasn't just staring, he was trying to project a wave of pure, crushing pressure. He imagined a shockwave of red and black lightning erupting from his chest, forcing the cat to bow in submission as if the very gravity of the hardware shop had tripled. In his mind's eye, he was a shadowy figure of absolute authority, standing atop a mountain of fallen foes.
"Throughout Heaven and Earth, I alone am the honored one," he hissed, borrowing the boast of the strongest to bolster his own fading confidence. "The world is but a butterfly in Mu's palm. Know pain, little beast. Kneel and sumbit to the Void Throne."
He was channeling everything, the coldness of Imu, the absolute ego of Gojo, and the philosophical edge of Pain.
After all, these characters have something in common. Absolute OP individuals that has different eye styles.
Then.
~Jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii~
He widened his eyes until they began to water, trying to force his pupils to look like the concentric circles of a god. He stopped breathing entirely, focusing his entire existence into a single point of intimidation directed at the cat's face. He was shaking now, his face turning a shade of purple that suggested he was closer to a stroke than a coronation.
Boss, the cat blinked slowly. With the supreme indifference of a creature that actually was a king, the feline lifted a hind leg and began a very thorough, very public cleaning of his private parts.
The "Conqueror's Stare" hadn't even registered as a mild annoyance.
"More pressure," Kaito urged himself, his vision beginning to blur from the lack of oxygen.
"Mu... will not be ignored. The throne... demands... acknowledgment!"
"DOMI REVERSI!"
He leaned closer, his nose inches from the cat, his face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated intensity.
Then.
"Kaito? Why are you making that 'mu-mu' noise at the cat? Do you have a hairball in your throat?"
The voice of Grandma Saki shattered the atmosphere like a hammer through glass. Kaito jumped so violently he nearly somersaulted off the wall and into a display of plastic garden rakes. He spun around, his heart leaping into his throat, to find Saki standing in the shop doorway with a clipboard and a look of profound, weary confusion.
"I... I was practicing my focus, Grandma!" Kaito shouted, his voice cracking. The "Mu" persona vanished instantly, replaced by the panicked squeak of an embarrassed child. "It's a... breathing technique! For, uh, spiritual alignment!"
Saki sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that contained decades of patience. "Well, your 'alignment' is needed in Aisle 4. The shipment of galvanized buckets arrived, and they aren't going to stack themselves. And leave Boss alone. He's lived through three recessions. He doesn't care about your staring contests."
"Yes, Grandma," Kaito muttered, his head hanging low as he shuffled past her.
As he hauled the buckets, the cold sting of reality began to wash away the delusions. He was eight. In the world around him, he heard news reports of a young, muscle-bound hero making waves a "Symbol" in the making. And here he was, the boy with the "Hero Toe," carrying steel for a three-yen-per-hour "allowance."
.....
"The world shall know pain," he grumbled as he slammed a bucket onto the stack, quoting Pain to justify his sore muscles. "But mostly, my lower back shall know the pain of manual labor."
He finished his chores and retreated to his room upstairs, locking the door. He stood in front of the full-length mirror.
If the "Stare" failed, the secret had to be in the theatrics and pose. He needed to channel the most arrogant, most powerful vampire in history.
He planted his feet wide, arched his back at a ninety-degree angle far beyond what a normal spine should allow and pointed a dramatic finger at his own eyes. He twisted his torso until his spine let out an alarming pop.
"You thought it was a normal kid, but it was me"
"KAITO!" he hissed, his voice a gravelly rasp as he channeled his inner madness.
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he prepared to unleash the most legendary battle cry of the 19th-century. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorting in a mask of pure, egotistical mania.
"WRYYYYYYYYYYYY—"
Thud.
The door, which hadn't quite latched properly, swung open with a heavy creak. Grandma Saki stood there, a tray of barley tea in her hands, her mouth slightly agape. She watched as her eight-year-old grandson stood in a pretzel-like pose, his head tilted back toward the floor, screaming at the ceiling with his veins popping out of his neck.
The "YYYYYYY" died in Kaito's throat, ending in a pathetic, high-pitched squeak.
The silence that followed was soul-crushing. Kaito remained frozen in the Dio pose, one leg hiked up, his finger still pointing at his own face, staring at his grandmother from an upside-down perspective.
"I... I made milk," Saki said slowly, her voice trembling with a mixture of shock and genuine fear for his sanity. "Kaito... why are you... like that? Do I need to call the ambulance? Is your spine broken?"
"I... I was stretching!" Kaito shouted, scrambling to stand normally and nearly crashing into his desk. "It's... it's a new type of... Western gymnastics! It's very popular overseas! The screaming helps... the oxygen flow!"
Saki set the tea down without taking her eyes off him. She walked over and placed a hand on his forehead. "You don't have a fever. But Kaito, why were you talking about yourself in the third person earlier? Who is 'Mu'? And why were you shouting like a dying bird?"
"It's... it's a nickname! From school! Really! Just... leave the milk! I was just... in the zone!"
She lingered in the doorway, her eyes searching his. "Kaito, listen to me. I know you want to be special. But there is honor in a normal life. You don't need to break your back or scream at the ceiling to be someone I'm proud of. You're already my hero when you help me with the inventory. Please... stop pointing at yourself. The neighbors may think you're having a crisis."
She closed the door, and Kaito slumped onto his bed. The "Peak Cringe" had been reached, and it had tasted like bitter barley tea and grandmotherly disappointment.
.....
He stared at his hand. He tried to snap his fingers, imagining something anything happening. Nothing. Just a dull click.
Doing a spiderman pose. Nothing.
Jumping in the bed while extending his one arm high, so he can fly. Nothing.
"The path to greatness is paved with embarrassing moments," he muttered, trying to salvage his dignity.
But for the first time, the anime quotes felt hollow. He was an "old soul" in a child's body, yet he was acting more childish than anyone else.
He was so obsessed with being able to awaken a power, that he was ignoring the person he actually was. He didn't know that his "Good Kid" helpfulness was the real power source, he just felt like a kid who had been caught being a weirdo.