---
The first thing Kaito Tsukimori noticed after dying was that reincarnation had terrible customer service.
No orientation. No instruction manual. Just consciousness slamming back into existence with all the subtlety of a freight train hitting a brick wall. One moment: darkness. Next moment: *everything* was too bright, too loud, and he couldn't move his limbs properly.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Tsukimori! It's a healthy boy!"
*Oh. Oh no.*
Kaito tried to speak, to demand answers about where he was and why everything was giant-sized. What came out instead was a sound that could only be described as a cat being strangled by a clarinet.
"He's got good lungs!" the nurse cooed.
*I'm a baby. I got hit by Truck-kun and now I'm a literal infant. The isekai gods have a sick sense of humor.*
He attempted to cross his arms in indignation. His hand smacked himself in the face.
"Aww, look! He's already so active!"
*This is humiliating.*
---
**Four Years Later**
"Kaito, sweetie, stay close to Mama, okay?"
Kaito nodded obediently, holding his adoptive mother Aiko's hand as they entered the convenience store. Four years of being a toddler had taught him one crucial lesson: adults underestimated small children to a *hilarious* degree.
He'd spent those four years doing three things:
1. Relearning how to walk without falling on his face (harder than expected)
2. Confirming he was definitely in the *My Hero Academia* universe (the All Might action figures were a dead giveaway)
3. Plotting how to survive this world without becoming a background character who died in a villain attack
Speaking of which—
The convenience store bell chimed. A man walked in wearing a black hoodie, face obscured. Kaito's four-year-old instincts screamed *danger* before his adult brain even processed why.
*Villain. That's a villain. I've read enough manga to know that energy.*
"Everyone on the ground! This is a robbery!"
Yep. Called it.
Aiko immediately pulled Kaito behind her. His adoptive father Kenji stepped forward, hands raised. "Please, we have a child—"
"I don't care about your brat! Wallets and phones, NOW!"
The villain's hands began to glow red. Some kind of heat quirk, Kaito guessed. He watched from behind his mother's legs, mind racing through scenarios.
*Option one: Wait for heroes. Problem: Response time in this area is approximately four minutes according to the news. We might not have four minutes.*
*Option two: Stay quiet and hope the villain just takes the money and leaves. Problem: This is MHA. Villains don't just leave.*
*Option three: Do something incredibly stupid that might get me killed but at least it'd be interesting.*
"Hey, mister villain?"
Aiko gasped. "Kaito, no—"
The villain turned, irritated. "What?"
Kaito tilted his head, the picture of innocent childhood curiosity. "Is being bad, like, your full-time job? Or is it more of a weekend hobby thing?"
The store went silent.
The villain blinked. "What?"
"I'm just asking 'cause my daddy says you should always have a career plan. And robbing convenience stores seems like it has a pretty low ceiling for advancement, you know? Limited growth opportunities."
"Kid, shut up before I—"
"I mean, what's the endgame here? Regional convenience store robberies? National chain stores? Or are you thinking bigger, like banks? Though honestly, banks have way better security, so that seems like a lateral move at best—"
"I SAID SHUT UP!"
The villain's hands flared brighter. He took a step toward Kaito.
Kenji moved. "Don't you dare—"
The red glow transferred from the villain's hands to Kenji's chest. A concentrated blast of heat.
Kaito watched his adoptive father collapse, smoke rising from the wound.
"KENJI!" Aiko screamed.
Time seemed to slow. Kaito stood very still, watching his mother rush to his father's side. Watching the villain turn back to the cashier, demanding money. Watching other customers cower.
He waited for the grief to hit. The trauma. The tears.
Instead, what came was *clarity*.
*Huh. So that's what dying looks like in real life. Less dramatic than anime makes it seem.*
His eyes began to hurt. Not emotionally—physically. Like someone was carving patterns into his eyeballs from the inside.
*What is—*
The world shifted. Everything became sharper, clearer. He could see the individual beads of sweat on the villain's forehead. Could track the micro-movements of his muscles before he moved. Could see the flow of quirk energy through his body like glowing rivers of red beneath his skin.
Three tomoe marks swirled into existence in Kaito's reflection in the store window.
*Sharingan.*
The pain intensified. The tomoe spun faster, merging, reshaping into a completely different pattern—a complex design of interconnected triangles and curves.
*Wait. That's not just Sharingan. That's—*
**Mangekyō Sharingan.**
*At age four. Without watching my best friend die. Without years of trauma. Just... instant activation.*
The villain was walking toward the door now, stolen money in hand. He'd killed a man and was just going to *leave*.
Kaito's hands weren't shaking. His breathing was steady. He felt... nothing. No rage. No grief. Just cold, mathematical assessment.
*If I let him leave, he'll hurt someone else. Probably kill them too. That's inefficient.*
His eyes focused on the villain. The Mangekyō patterns spun.
He didn't know how he knew what to do. The knowledge just *appeared* in his mind, like reading a manual written directly onto his brain.
*Shukuken. Reduced Fist. Shrinks objects I focus on.*
The villain's heart was clearly visible to his enhanced eyes. A pulsing red organ behind ribs and muscle.
*Let's test this.*
Kaito focused. His left eye burned with power.
The villain took one step out the door.
His heart imploded.
Not exploded—*imploded*. Shrunk to the size of a marble in an instant. The villain made a sound like a broken whistle and collapsed face-first onto the pavement.
Dead before he hit the ground.
Kaito blinked. The Mangekyō stopped spinning. His vision blurred slightly.
*Huh. Mangekyō Sharingan causes blindness with overuse. Good to know.*
Around him, people were screaming. Calling for help. His mother was crying over his father's body.
Kaito walked over to them, small legs carrying him across the blood-stained floor.
"Mama?"
Aiko looked up, tears streaming. "Oh, Kaito, baby, I'm so sorry you had to see—"
"The bad man fell down. His heart got small."
She stared at him. "What?"
Sirens wailed in the distance. Heroes arriving too late, as expected.
Kaito tilted his head, analyzing his mother's expression. Grief. Shock. Confusion. He calibrated his response accordingly.
Time to cry.
He scrunched up his face and let out a wail that would've made any actor proud. Fake tears came surprisingly easy when you focused on making your eyes water.
"MAMA! DADDY'S NOT MOVING!"
Aiko grabbed him, pulling him into a tight hug. "It's okay, baby, it's okay, Mama's here—"
Over her shoulder, Kaito could see the villain's corpse. Could see his own reflection in the store window—a four-year-old child with normal black eyes. The Sharingan had deactivated.
He filed away several important observations:
1. Mangekyō Sharingan could kill instantly with the right application
2. No one could tell he'd been the one to do it
3. His vision had blurred slightly after one use—maybe 2% degradation
4. Killing a man felt exactly as emotionally impactful as doing laundry
*So. I have the Mangekyō Sharingan in the My Hero Academia world. It causes progressive blindness. And I just discovered that killing people doesn't bother me even slightly.*
He continued his crying performance while his mind raced.
*According to Naruto lore, I need another pair of Mangekyō Sharingan to create Eternal Mangekyō and stop the blindness. Problem: I'm the only person with Sharingan in this universe. That method's out.*
*But when I killed that villain, my vision improved for a split second before degrading. Almost like...*
His eyes widened behind the fake tears.
*Like his death restored a tiny fraction of what the activation cost.*
A hypothesis formed.
*What if killing evil people in this world restores my vision? What if that's the trade? One villain death equals one step closer to perfect eyesight?*
Heroes burst through the door. All Might-themed paramedics rushed to his father's body.
"He's gone," one said quietly. "Quirk attack directly to the heart."
"What about the perp?"
"Also dead. Heart failure, looks like. Probably a quirk malfunction—his own quirk backfired maybe?"
*Perfect. They think it was an accident.*
Kaito was lifted into a hero's arms, still maintaining his sobbing act. The hero—some C-lister in a blue costume—tried to comfort him.
"It's okay, little guy. The bad man can't hurt anyone anymore."
*I know. I made sure of it.*
"Your quirk hasn't manifested yet, has it?"
Kaito shook his head, sniffling. "No, mister hero."
*Technically not a lie. The Sharingan isn't a quirk.*
"Well, when it does, I bet you'll be a great hero! Just like your daddy would've wanted!"
*Hero? Maybe. Or maybe I'll be something better.*
He was carried past the villain's body. Close enough to see the frozen expression of surprise on the dead man's face.
*One down,* Kaito thought, still crying fake tears into the hero's shoulder. *Ninety-nine to go until Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan.*
*This world has no idea what's coming.*
---
**Ten Years Later**
"—and that's why investing in Genius Office now, before the stock split, will triple your returns by next quarter. Trust me."
Kaito Tsukimori, age fourteen, leaned back in his chair, feet propped on his penthouse desk. On the phone, his financial advisor sputtered.
"But Tsukimori-sama, you're asking me to invest ¥500 million in a hero agency that hasn't even—"
"It will. All Might is going to take on a teaching position soon, hero agency stocks will fluctuate, and Genius Office will acquire smaller agencies during the dip. Buy now, sell in eighteen months, profit."
"How could you possibly know—"
"Because I'm either psychic or extremely well-researched. Does it matter which? Just do it."
He hung up before the advisor could argue further.
His penthouse overlooked Musutafu City, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the sunset. Expensive, modern, and paid for entirely with money he'd made from "mysteriously accurate" investments and a music career that had launched when he was ten.
Turns out remembering hit songs from your previous life made becoming a pop star extremely easy.
On his laptop, seven different screens ran simultaneously:
1. Stock market analysis
2. Music production software (new album in progress)
3. Police scanner frequencies
4. Hero news aggregator
5. Social media management
6. Quirk research databases
7. A grocery delivery app (he was out of coffee)
*Shikō Bunretsu. Thought Division. Seven parallel thought streams.*
His right Mangekyō ability let him process all seven screens at once without breaking a sweat.
Each eye had manifested a different power:
**Left Eye - Shukuken:** Shrink anything he could see within 50 meters. Objects, people, energy, even space itself.
**Right Eye - Shikō Bunretsu:** Split his consciousness into seven parallel thought processes. Each could analyze different information, strategize independently, or maintain separate techniques.
Together? He could micromanage reality itself.
His phone buzzed. Text from his manager:
*"Tsuki, you have an interview with Hero Monthly tomorrow at 10 AM. Please don't skip this one."*
Kaito—known to the public as "Tsuki," the teenage music sensation—grimaced.
*Right. The celebrity obligations.*
He typed back: *"Fine. But I'm wearing sunglasses. My eyes are sensitive to camera flashes."*
*"You ALWAYS wear sunglasses."*
*"Exactly. Consistency is branding."*
*"You're impossible."*
*"That's why you're paid well. See you tomorrow."*
He set the phone down and walked to the window. The sun was setting, painting the sky orange and purple.
Behind his tinted designer glasses, his eyes were a mess.
The Mangekyō pattern was barely visible anymore through the cloudiness. He'd tested his vision that morning—roughly 27% degraded. The world existed in permanent twilight, colors muted, edges blurred.
*Current kill count: 73 villains.*
*Vision restoration: 73% of the way to Eternal Mangekyō.*
*Only 27 more to go.*
The pattern was clear: one irredeemable villain death = 1% vision restoration. He'd spent years hunting them. Quietly. Efficiently. As his vigilante alter-ego "Silhouette."
Small-time thugs. Quirk traffickers. Murderers. Each one carefully selected, thoroughly investigated, and permanently removed.
No guilt. No hesitation. Just math.
*27 more villains until perfect vision forever.*
His reflection stared back from the window. Silver-white hair (a side effect of chakra awakening at age four). Lean build from constant training. Expensive casual clothes. The picture of a successful teenager.
No one looking at him would suspect he'd killed 73 people.
*Well. 73 villains. There's a difference.*
His laptop pinged. The hero news aggregator had flagged something:
**"UA HIGH SCHOOL ANNOUNCES ENTRANCE EXAM DATE"**
Kaito's smile was sharp.
*Right on schedule.*
UA. The top hero school in Japan. Where canon would begin. Where Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, and dozens of future pro heroes would gather.
Where villains would inevitably attack. Multiple times. USJ. Training camp. War arc.
*A target-rich environment.*
He opened a new document and started typing:
**"UA Entrance Exam Strategy"**
- Pass with high scores (but not TOO high—don't want excessive attention yet)
- Analyze classmates for potential allies
- Identify future problem children (Bakugo, Todoroki)
- Begin establishing "helpful celebrity" persona
- **Primary objective: Position myself where villains will come to me**
The last line made him chuckle.
*Why hunt villains across the city when I can go to school and have them attack me directly?*
His phone buzzed again. This time, the police scanner app.
*"Reports of villain activity in District 7. Suspect armed with bladed quirk. Multiple casualties."*
Kaito checked his watch. 7:47 PM.
*Interview tomorrow at 10 AM. That gives me... fourteen hours. Plenty of time.*
He walked to his closet, pushing aside designer jackets to reveal a hidden panel. Inside: black tactical gear, a featureless white mask, and various tools.
The Silhouette outfit.
He changed quickly, efficient movements from years of practice. The mask covered his entire face—couldn't risk someone seeing the Mangekyō pattern.
*Seven parallel thought streams activate:*
Stream 1: Plan infiltration route
Stream 2: Monitor police frequencies
Stream 3: Analyze villain's likely quirk weaknesses
Stream 4: Maintain awareness of surroundings
Stream 5: Prepare escape routes
Stream 6: Set phone to silent mode
Stream 7: Remind myself to pick up coffee on the way back
*Multitasking is beautiful.*
He stepped onto his balcony. Fifteen floors up, wind whipping at his clothes.
*Shukuken.*
His left eye activated. He focused on the space between his balcony and the next building's rooftop—roughly 30 meters away.
The space *shrunk*. Compressed. Folded in on itself until the gap was barely two meters.
Kaito stepped across empty air and landed on the distant roof as if the space had never existed.
*Never gets old.*
He released the technique. Space snapped back to normal behind him.
*District 7. Bladed quirk villain. Multiple casualties.*
His expression behind the mask was completely neutral.
*26 more after this one. Then UA. Then the real fun begins.*
He vanished into the night, a white-masked shadow flickering across rooftops.