[Ten Months Before U.A.'s Entrance Exam]
Ten months.
That's all the time I had left before U.A.'s entrance examination would determine the trajectory of my entire hero career.
A lot had happened in the time leading up to this point—some expected, some surprising, and some absolutely mortifying.
Let me recap a bit.
At the start of the semester, I'd finally pulled the trigger on my grand plagiarism scheme—ahem, I mean my "original creative work."
Fairy Tail, Volume 1, written by yours truly under the pen name "Barry Allen."
'Yeah, I know,' I thought, cringing internally at the memory of choosing that name. 'I named myself after the OG Flash. I'm not proud of it, okay? It was 2 AM, I was tired, and my brain just... went there. Let's move on.'
The publishing process had been surprisingly straightforward with my parents' help. My father had connections through his insurance work with several publishing houses—apparently, covering property damage claims for the literary district had its perks.
My mother had used her pro hero credentials to vouch for my character, assuring editors that I wasn't some random kid trying to pull a scam.
And Megumi-nee had helped format the manuscript properly, fix my occasionally terrible grammar, and make sure the whole thing didn't read like it was written by a sleep-deprived teenager.
'Which it technically was,' I admitted. 'Just a sleep-deprived teenager with memories of the entire story from another universe.'
The day the first volume was published, I'd given my parents an advance copy.
I still remembered the day when I showed them the original copy for publication.
[Flashback - Six Months Ago]
"Denki-kun," my mother had said slowly, holding the book in trembling hands, "did you really write this?"
"Every word," I'd confirmed, trying to keep my voice steady despite my nervousness. "Well, with some editorial help from Megumi-nee, but yeah. It's mine."
My father had already finished the first three chapters, his eyes suspiciously red as he carefully set the book down.
"Son," he'd said emotionally, "this is... this is incredible. The characters, the world-building, the themes of friendship and perseverance... how did you—"
And then my mother had started crying. Full-on tears streaming down her face as she pulled me into a crushing hug.
"We're so sorry," she'd sobbed into my hair. "We've been so absent. Working all the time, leaving you alone, missing so many moments... and here you were, creating something this beautiful, and we didn't even know—"
"Kaa-san, it's okay—"
"It's not okay!" She'd pulled back, holding my shoulders, her lightning-blue eyes fierce despite the tears. "You wrote this to help us financially, didn't you? Because you knew we were struggling with expenses. Because you wanted to ease our burden."
'Shit,' I'd thought. 'She figured it out.'
"That was part of it," I'd admitted carefully. "But I also just... wanted to create something. To prove I could do more than just train and study. The money is a bonus."
My father had joined the hug, and suddenly I was being sandwich-squeezed by both parents while they cried and apologized and promised to spend more time with me.
"You don't have to worry about money anymore," my father had said firmly. "We've been saving for years. Your focus should be on training for U.A., not trying to support the family."
"But—"
"No buts," my mother had interrupted. "You're our son. Our job is to support you, not the other way around. Promise us you'll focus on your dreams, okay?"
I'd nodded but promised myself, 'I won't let them down.'
[Present Day]
The book had been a massive hit. Like, way bigger than I'd anticipated.
Within two weeks, Volume 1 had sold out its initial print run. By the end of the first month, it was being reprinted for the third time. Fan art was appearing online. Discussion forums were analyzing the characters and plot. People were cosplaying as Fairy Tail guild members at conventions.
I'd created a cultural phenomenon completely by accident.
'Well,' I corrected myself, 'not completely by accident. I knew it would be popular. I just didn't expect it to explode this fast.'
Volume 2 had been released recently and was selling even better than the first. My publisher was already pressuring me for Volume 3.
'At this rate, I'll be able to retire before I even become a pro hero,' I thought with dark amusement. 'The irony is not lost on me.'
Also telling Eijiro and Mina had been... an experience. We'd been at our usual training spot when I'd casually dropped the bomb.
"So, uh, funny story," I'd said while Eijiro was doing push-ups and Mina was practicing acid control. "You know that book series everyone's been talking about? Fairy Tail?"
"Oh my god, I love that series!" Mina had gushed immediately. "The characters are so well-written! And the magic system is so creative! And the—" She'd paused, noticing my expression. "Wait, why are you bringing it up?"
"I wrote it."
"..."
Eijiro had frozen mid-push-up, arms trembling as he stared at me. "You... what?"
"I wrote Fairy Tail," I'd repeated. "I'm Barry Allen. The author."
"..."
Then Mina had started laughing—that slightly hysterical laugh that meant she thought I was joking. "Good one, Denki-kun! You almost had me there!"
"I'm serious."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am."
"Prove it," Eijiro had demanded, finally completing his push-up and standing up. "There's no way you wrote that. You're Sixteen! The writing is too mature, too complex, too—"
I'd pulled out my phone, opened my email, and shown them the message thread with my publisher.
Then I'd called Megumi-nee on speakerphone. "Megumi-nee, can you please tell my friends who wrote Fairy Tail?"
"Denki-kun did!" she'd confirmed cheerfully. "I helped edit it! Why?"
"They don't believe me."
"What? But he literally showed me the manuscript! I watched him write half of Volume 2!"
I'd hung up and looked at their shocked faces.
Then I'd called my mother. "Kaa-san, quick question—who wrote Fairy Tail?"
"You did, sweetie! We're so proud! Why?"
"Just confirming. Thanks!"
By the time I'd hung up, both Eijiro and Mina were sitting on the ground, looking like their worldviews had shattered.
"You..." Eijiro had said weakly, "you wrote Fairy Tail."
"Yep."
"The book that's topping bestseller charts."
"That's the one."
"The book that has a Manga and Anime deal in the works."
'Wait, WHAT?' I'd thought, genuinely surprised. 'When did that happen?'
"Apparently, yes," I'd said aloud, making a mental note to call my publisher later.
Mina had suddenly lunged forward, grabbing my collar and shaking me. "HOW?! How did you write something that good?! You're Sixteen! I'm Sixteen and I can barely write a coherent essay! How did you create an entire fantasy world with complex characters and emotional arcs and—"
"I'm just... really good at writing?" I'd offered weakly.
"That's not an explanation! That's—" She'd paused, eyes widening. "Wait. You're a genius. Like, actual genius genius."
"Congratulations you figured it out after hanging out with me for years. But I prefer 'unusually talented,'" I'd said.
"Same thing!" Eijiro had joined in, grabbing my other shoulder. "Dude, you're famous! You're a celebrity author! Do you know how crazy that is?!"
"Which is exactly why," I'd said seriously, "you both need to keep this secret. Don't tell anyone—not classmates, not teachers, not anyone. Okay?"
They'd both stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
"Why not?" Mina had asked. "You could be mega popular! Everyone would want to be your friend!"
"Exactly," I'd said flatly. "And I don't want that kind of attention right now. I'm already popular enough at school. If people find out I'm Barry Allen, it'll become impossible to have a normal life. I'll be swarmed constantly. Every conversation will be about the book. Every interaction will be because people want something from me."
'Plus,' I'd thought but didn't say, 'once I get into U.A., I'll be famous anyway as a hero student. I want to enjoy relative anonymity for a few more months while I still can.'
Eijiro had nodded slowly. "That... actually makes sense. Okay, man. Your secret's safe with us."
"Pinky promise," Mina had added, holding out her pinky finger.
We'd all linked pinkies—a childish gesture, but somehow appropriate.
"Though," Eijiro had said with a sly grin, "you are giving us signed copies, right?"
"Obviously."
"And early access to Volume 3?"
"Don't push your luck."
.
.
.
But the biggest development had come from my mother about two months ago.
We'd been eating dinner together when she'd suddenly set down her chopsticks and looked at me seriously. "Denki-kun, I want to train you."
I'd paused mid-bite. "Train me?"
"For the U.A. entrance exam. Six months of intensive training before the test." Her expression had been completely serious. "I know you've been training with your friends and taking martial arts classes. But I think you'd benefit from professional hero training. Real combat experience and advanced techniques."
My father had nodded in agreement. "We've talked about it, and we both think this is a good idea. You're already strong, but you could be even stronger with proper guidance."
I'd felt electricity crackle across my skin from sheer excitement.
'Professional hero training,' I'd thought, barely containing my grin. 'From my mother, who's been an active pro hero for more than a decade years. This is exactly what I need to gauge my real combat level against experienced fighters.'
"I'd love that," I'd said, trying to keep my voice calm and not betray how thrilled I was. "When do we start?"
"In four months," my mother had replied. "That'll give you time to finish your current training arc with your friends and prepare mentally. Then we'll do six months of hell—and I do mean hell—before the exam."
She'd smiled, but it was the kind of smile that promised pain. "I won't go easy on you just because you're my son. If anything, I'll be harder on you. Because I know what you're capable of, and I know you can handle it."
'Oh, I'm definitely ready for this,' I'd thought eagerly.
"Bring it on, Kaa-san."
Her smile had widened. "That's my boy."
Amd that's how I got a training program with my mom and also there was a specific reason I'd been focusing so heavily on martial arts training alongside my Quirk development.
Actually, there were two specific reasons.
Reason One, Erasure-Type Quirks. People like Aizawa Shota, whose Erasure Quirk could completely nullify other people's Quirks just by looking at them. In a fight against someone like that, my electricity would be useless. I'd be reduced to pure hand-to-hand combat, and if I wasn't skilled enough in that area, I'd lose instantly.
'Can't rely solely on my Quirk,' I'd reasoned. 'What happens if I face someone who counters it? Someone with rubber-based defenses, or insulation, or—People like my mother.'
That's my reason Two, Electrical Immunity.
Narihana Kaminari, pro hero with the Lightning Generation Quirk. She could create lightning, manipulate it and discharge it at will.
And also she had complete immunity to electricity in all its forms. Which meant my primary offensive ability was worthless against her.
Electricity-based Quirks don't work on each other if one person has immunity. It's a hard counter. Which means if I ever fight someone with electrical immunity or resistance, I'll need another way to win. Hence, martial arts training.
MMA for practical combat applications.
Karate because I genuinely enjoyed it and it taught excellent discipline. Boxing for striking technique and Judo for throws and grappling.
'If I can't shock them,' I'd decided, 'I'll just beat them up the old-fashioned way.'
But I hadn't just received training from my mother. I'd also given her some techniques of my own.
Specifically, the Thunder Breathing method I'd developed over years of training. Getting her to learn it had required some creative maneuvering.
One evening, we'd been watching TV together—some yoga and meditation program that she found relaxing after long hero shifts.
"Kaa-san," I'd said innocently, "can we play a game?"
"A game?"
"Yeah! I want to play sensei and student! I'll teach you breathing exercises I learned from TV, and you try to copy them!" I'd put on my best "cute kid" expression. "Please?"
She'd laughed, clearly charmed. "Alright, sweetie. Show me what you've got."
And that's how I'd "accidentally" taught my mother a technique that would increase her combat effectiveness by at least thirty percent.
The look on her face when she'd finally gotten the hang of it—when she'd felt her stamina increase, her focus sharpen, her electrical output become more efficient—had been priceless.
"Denki-kun," she'd said slowly, staring at her hands as lightning danced across her fingertips with unprecedented control, "how did you figure this out?"
"I just copied what they showed on TV and made some changes!" I'd said with practiced innocence. "Is it good?"
"It's..." She'd looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "You really are a genius, aren't you?"
I'd just shrugged, playing it off. But internally, I'd been satisfied.
'One step closer to making her stronger,' I'd thought.
Because shit was about to hit the fan in a few months. And I wanted everyone I cared about to be as prepared as possible.
But not everything in my life was serious training and future planning. Some things were pure, petty vengeance.
Megumi-nee had committed an unforgivable sin.
She'd recorded my Whey Mode incident—that mortifying moment when I'd short-circuited my brain and spent fifteen minutes drooling and giving thumbs-ups like a brain-damaged Pikachu. And she hadn't just kept it to herself.
Oh no. She'd shown it to Mina and Eijiro, who'd laughed so hard they'd literally cried.
She'd shown it to my father, who'd found it "adorable."
And worst of all—worst of all—she'd shown it to my mother, who had immediately saved it to her personal drive and shared it with every single person in her contact list.
Pro heroes... Agency staff... Her hero friends.
I'd discovered this when one of her colleagues had approached me at a hero meet-and-greet and said, with a completely straight face, "Hey, you're Lightning Strike's son, right? I saw your video. Very cute!"
I'd wanted to die... Right there.
Just spontaneously combust from sheer embarrassment.
'Megumi-nee,' I'd thought darkly, 'you have made a terrible mistake. You think you've won? You think you're safe because you backed up the video?'
'I've been training for years. I can now hack networks and can infiltrate supposedly secure locations without leaving a trace. But my time will come, be ready.'
I hadn't revealed my revenge plan to anyone—not even Eijiro and Mina.
But it was coming. Oh, it was definitely coming.
And when it did, Megumi-nee would remember this day as the moment she learned an important lesson, Never embarrass the speedster.
.
.
.
**Present Day**
"So," Mina said while munching on her lunch as we sat in our usual spot on the school roof, "ten months until U.A.'s entrance exam. Everyone feeling ready?"
"Nervous," Eijiro admitted, poking at his rice. "I mean, we've been training like crazy, but... it's U.A. You know? The best of the best. What if we're not good enough?"
'We've had this conversation before,' I thought with fond exasperation. 'He needs constant reassurance.'
"Eijiro-kun," I said, "you could benchpress Takeda, who has the strongest enhancement Quirk in this school a year ago. Now you can benchpress two of him while maintaining full Hardening. You're more than ready."
"Denki-kun's right!" Mina added cheerfully. "Besides, we're all taking the exam together! Even if it's hard, we'll have each other!"
Our peaceful lunch was interrupted by shouting from the courtyard below.
"Give it back!"
"Make me, bear boy!"
"Come on, this isn't funny!"
I stood up, walking to the roof's edge to look down.
Three students had cornered a boy with a bear-like mutation Quirk—brown fur covering most of his body, small rounded ears, and a generally ursine appearance. They were holding what looked like his backpack, taunting him as he tried to retrieve it.
"Hey," one of them was saying, "I heard your Quirk can turn leaves into money! Do it for us!"
"I can't!" the bear boy protested. "It doesn't work like that! The money only lasts for a few seconds before it turns back! It's useless!"
"Then you're useless too, huh?"
Something about this scene felt familiar. Like I'd seen it before, or read about it, or—
'Wait,' I thought, my enhanced memory bringing up a hazy recollection. 'This happened in canon, didn't it? Early in the series? Some character's backstory about being bullied?'
But I couldn't remember the details. 'Damn memory gaps,' I thought in frustration.
"Come on," I said to Eijiro and Mina, already heading for the roof access door. "We're intervening."
"On it!" Eijiro was up immediately, that determined look on his face that appeared whenever he saw injustice and Mina grabbed her lunch bag and followed.
We made it to the courtyard in under few seconds.
"Hey!" Eijiro shouted, striding forward with his shoulders squared. "What do you three think you're doing?"
The bullies turned, and I saw recognition flash across their faces.
'Oh good,' I thought dryly. 'My reputation precedes me.'
"Kaminari," one of them—a guy with a weak fire-generation Quirk whose name I didn't care to remember—said nervously. "We were just—"
"Pikachu!" Mina interrupted, pointing at me dramatically. "I choose you! Thunderbolt attack!"
'Why,' I thought, my eye twitching. 'Why does she keep doing this?'
They all tried to hide their laughter—even the bear kid who had been getting bullied just moments ago. Come on, man. I'm here to save you. Whose side are you on?
Eijiro was shaking with suppressed laughter beside me, the traitor.
I deadpanned at Mina, who just tee-heed with her tongue out. 'I Swear, I'll get her for this.'
"We'll just... go," the leader said quickly, dropping the backpack. "Sorry, Kaminari-Kun. We didn't mean any—"
"Save it," I interrupted coldly. "And if I hear about you three bothering anyone again, we're going to have a very unpleasant conversation. Understand?"
They nodded frantically and fled. The bear boy picked up his backpack, looking at us with wide, grateful eyes.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes we did," Eijiro said firmly. "That's what heroes do."
'And scene,' I thought with satisfaction. 'Another bully incident resolved. At this rate I should put "Playground Justice" on my hero resume.'
.
.
.
The final bell rang through the School, signaling the end of another mundane day. Students flooded the hallways like a tidal wave, their chatter filling every corner with noise and life. I stretched my arms overhead, feeling the satisfying pop of my shoulders as I let out a long yawn.
Suddenly Mina came barreling down the hallway like a pink missile, her phone held high above her head, her golden eyes wide with excitement.
"Guys! Guys, you have to see this!" she practically shouted, nearly crashing into a group of startled first-years as she skidded to a stop in front of us.
Eijiro's face lit up immediately. "What's up, Mina-chan? You look like you just won the lottery!"
"Better than the lottery!" Mina's fingers flew across her phone screen. Pink curls bounced as she practically vibrated with energy. "There's a villain attack happening in Musutafu right now! It's all over the news—look, look!"
She thrust the phone between us, and immediately, the three of us huddled around the small screen. The video stream showed shaky footage from what appeared to be a news helicopter. Below, chaos reigned through a shopping district I vaguely recognized.
The villain was... grotesque. A massive, vaguely humanoid figure constructed entirely of what looked like living sludge. Its body shifted and morphed with disgusting fluidity, absorbing hero attacks like water into a sponge.
"Whoa," Eijiro breathed, his eyes glued to the screen. "That thing is huge! What kind of Quirk even makes something like that?"
"Some kind of liquid transformation, maybe?" I murmured, my mind already analyzing the tactical situation. 'Sludge villain. This is it. This is that scene.'
Several Pro Heroes surrounded the creature—Death Arms, Kamui Woods, Backdraft—all struggling to contain the situation without causing collateral damage. The sludge villain laughed, a gurgling, horrible sound that came through even the phone's tinny speakers.
"The Heroes are having trouble!" Mina's voice carried a note of worry now. "Why can't they stop it?"
"Wrong Quirk matchups," I said absently, still focused on the screen. "Death Arms is pure strength—useless against a liquid body. Kamui Woods uses wood bindings—again, can't grab something with no solid form. Backdraft controls water, but that villain's already liquid. They're all playing defensive because no one has the right offensive capability."
"Whoa, Denki-kun," Eijiro looked at me with impressed eyes. "You figured all that out just from watching?"
'Perks of having an adult brain and watching this show multiple times.' I shrugged. "Just pattern recognition. It's pretty obvious when you think about—"
And then—A small figure appeared at the edge of the crowd.
Green, messy and wild hair.. A middle school uniform that hung slightly too large on his frame. And those eyes—even from this distance, even through the grainy footage, I could see the desperate determination burning in them.
He was running, not away from the villain but toward it.
"What is that kid doing?!" the news reporter's voice cracked with panic through the phone's speaker. "Someone stop him! He's going to get killed!"
Mina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my god, is he crazy?!"
"That's..." Eijiro's voice dropped to a whisper, his entire body tensing as he watched.
The green-haired boy—Midoriya Izuku, though the commentators didn't know his name yet—reached the villain's writhing mass without hesitation. He immediately started pulling at the sludge with his bare hands, fingers digging into the disgusting substance as he desperately tried to free someone trapped inside the creature's body.
The camera zoomed in, revealing another boy trapped within the villain's form. Blonde hair, wild eyes filled with rage and fear, explosions sparking desperately from his palms as he struggled to breathe.
'Bakugo Katsuki,' I thought, my jaw clenching unconsciously. 'The "childhood friend" who told Izuku to jump off a roof earlier today. And here Izuku is, risking his life to save him anyway.'
"That's insane," Eijiro breathed, his knuckles white as he gripped his own school bag strap. "That kid's going to—"
"Save him," I finished quietly, my eyes locked on the screen.
'Midoriya Izuku,' I realized, recognition settling over me like a weighted blanket. 'And Bakugo Katsuki. This is the scene where All Might realizes Izuku has the heart of a hero. This is the moment where it all truly begins.'
The footage continued—the green-haired boy clawing at the sludge, pulling, screaming something the camera couldn't pick up. The blonde boy's eyes widened in shock, in disbelief. The Pro Heroes shouted warnings, moved to intervene, but everything happened so fast—And then He arrived.
Even through the phone screen, All Might's presence was overwhelming. The Symbol of Peace burst onto the scene like a force of nature itself, his iconic costume filling the frame as he pulled back his fist.
"DETROIT SMASH!"
The shockwave from the punch was so powerful it dispersed the rain clouds overhead. The sludge villain exploded outward, its body scattering in every direction before reforming into an unconscious heap. Both boys fell to the ground, gasping for air.
The crowd erupted into cheers. The Pro Heroes moved in to secure the villain. All Might stood tall with his smile never wavering.
But what struck me—what really hit home—was the look on Izuku's face as he lay there on the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks, alive and breathing and having just done the most heroic thing I'd witnessed in either of my lives.
Pure, desperate determination. The willingness to sacrifice everything to save someone, even at the cost of his own life.
Mina was bouncing excitedly now, her earlier worry replaced with exhilaration. "That was AMAZING! Did you see All Might?! That punch was incredible! And that kid—he actually tried to save someone! That's so brave!"
Suddenly I thought about my previous life, about late-night forum discussions and YouTube comment sections. About people who complained that Izuku cried too much, that he was too emotional, too analytical, too hesitant. That he didn't have the "personality of a hero."
'He's just a kid,' I thought while watching the replay as Izuku collapsed after All Might's rescue. 'Fifteen years old. Maybe Sixteen by now. Quirkless his entire life, bullied relentlessly by the person he considered his best friend. Told by everyone—teachers, peers, even All Might himself at first—to give up his dream, that it was impossible, that he should be "realistic."'
'And here he is, running toward danger without hesitation, without powers and without anything except the belief that someone needs to be saved.'
'That should mean something.'
'Some people might not like him,' I mused, barely aware of Mina chattering excitedly about hero rankings and villain capture rates. 'Might think he's too emotional, too reckless, not the "protagonist material" they wanted. But they're missing the point. They're missing it completely.'
'He's exactly what a hero should be.'
My mind drifted forward, to a future that hadn't happened yet but that I remembered with crystal clarity. The burdens that would be placed on those narrow, too-small shoulders. One For All. The fight against All For One. The weight of being All Might's successor, of inheriting the Symbol of Peace. The war. The casualties. The goddamn cost of being the hope of an entire nation.
'That's too much for one kid to carry, way too much.'
'I've got an adult mind in a teenage body. I've got meta-knowledge of what's coming. I've got powers I've spent eleven years developing, training in secret, preparing for exactly this.'
'I can't let him shoulder all of that alone. I'll share the burden. That's what adults do for kids, right? Even if he doesn't know he needs the help yet. Even if he never asks for it.'
Mina was chattering excitedly about the villain attack, speculating wildly about the heroes involved and what their Quirks could do. Her hands gestured animatedly as she proposed increasingly ridiculous theories.
Eijiro was still watching the replay, his expression serious, thoughtful. His hand unconsciously clenched into a fist against his side.
And I? I was planning. Preparing for a future where I'd stand beside the greatest heroes of this generation and help Izuku Midoriya carry a weight that should never have been his alone.
'I can take help from others too,' I reminded myself. 'After all, I'm not powerful like All Might. Not yet, anyway. And I'm not some edgy loner transmigrator who refuses help from others just to prove I can do everything alone.'
'I help others as much as I can, and I take help when I need it. That's how teams work.'
'That's how we change the world to be a better place—by helping each other and growing together, reaching heights we could never achieve alone.'
I almost snorted at my own internal monologue. 'Damn, that sounds like a protagonist's inner speech. How embarrassing.'
But still... it was true.
"Denki-kun? Denki-kun!" Mina's voice cut through my thoughts. She was waving her hand in front of my face, "You okay? You totally spaced out there, Pikachu!"
"I'm fine," I said, shaking my head and forcing a grin. "Just thinking about how insane that kid was. Running at a villain like that."
"Right?!" Mina's concern evaporated instantly, replaced by renewed excitement.
'Ten months until U.A. entrance exams,' I thought.