Life doesn't just kick you when you're down—it waits until you think you've won, then body-slams you through a table.
Hikaro had just tasted the first hint of stability in years. After grinding through classes and interviews, he finally passed a key college interview. Not some dream school or golden ticket to riches, but it was enough. A stepping stone to a job. To independence. To breathing room. He'd even allowed himself to daydream—a little apartment, a slow climb up the corporate ladder, ramen that didn't come in plastic cups.
Then he woke up on a beach full of garbage.
Literally.
Sunlight stabbed at his eyes as he groaned and sat up, bits of plastic bottles and seaweed clinging to his arms. His clothes were… strange. Tight black pants hugged his legs like they'd been painted on, and his shirt—
"Is that Pikachu?" he muttered, blinking down at the bright yellow face smiling from his chest.
Great. Not only was he confused, sore, and surrounded by trash, but he looked like someone who lost a cosplay bet.
He scanned his surroundings—gray ocean stretching out endlessly, gulls circling overhead, rusted cans and broken electronics littered across the shore. There were no people, no signs, no familiar landmarks.
Then came the headache. A sharp, pulsing pain behind his eyes as if someone were jamming a USB stick directly into his brain.
Memories.
Not his.
Or maybe… also his?
They came in fragments. A new name: Ito Hikaro. Age sixteen. Orphan. Lives in Musutafu. Possesses a quirk—a body-strengthening/hardening type that hardens his muscles and increases endurance. Tough. Durable. Borderline superhuman.
And then the world around him began to make sense.
No. It couldn't be. It shouldn't be.
But there was no mistaking it.
This was the world of My Hero Academia.
"Oh, come on," Hikaro said aloud, dragging his hands through his hair. "Why this world? Why not some chill fantasy one with guilds and potions? Why the one where walking nukes with quirks destroy entire cities for fun?"
He stood slowly, his legs surprisingly steady. His new body was powerful. He could feel it in his movements—the easy strength in his limbs, the way the breeze barely registered against his skin. His quirk was no joke. Somewhere around Muscular's level, according to the memories he'd inherited. That meant regeneration, speed, power. Not unbeatable, but enough to survive.
Still… this world was a mess. Villains running wild. Heroes dying in battle. And the deeper into the timeline things got, the worse everything became. War. Chaos. Destruction. The fall of Hero Society.
"What the hell am I supposed to do here?" he whispered, his voice nearly swallowed by the crashing waves. "I just wanted a normal life."
Trying to calm himself, he recalled a few details. His apartment wasn't far from this beach. If he remembered right, Midoriya hadn't started cleaning this place yet, which gave him a time frame: roughly ten months before the UA Entrance Exam. That meant All Might still had his powers, Midoriya was still quirkless, and chaos hadn't kicked into high gear yet.
"Alright… step one: survive. Step two: train. Step three: figure out what's going on."
He brushed the last bits of garbage off his pants and started walking toward the road—until something caught his eye. Something round. Out of place even on this apocalyptic beach.
A fruit.
But not just any fruit.
It looked metallic—spirals of silvery-blue etching over its skin like circuitry or arcane symbols. It pulsed faintly, like it was alive.
"No. No way."
Hikaro stepped closer, heart hammering.
"Is that… a Devil Fruit?"
His mind reeled. Those didn't exist here. They couldn't. That was One Piece. Completely different universe. Different rules.
And yet, here it was. Real. Tangible. And ominous in its quiet glow.
"Am I hallucinating? Did I hit my head?"
But it felt real. Every instinct told him this wasn't some illusion. Somehow, some way, a Devil Fruit had manifested in the MHA world.
"Is this… my cheat? My golden ticket?"
He didn't hesitate.
He picked it up. The moment his fingers touched its surface, a spark of energy danced up his arm. It felt… wrong. Heavy. But also right. Like destiny wrapped in danger.
"This is either the best or worst decision I'll ever make."
And with that, he took a bite.
"GAKK—oh god, that's disgusting!"
He gagged, but forced the chunk down. Instantly, something shifted inside him. A jolt of electricity? No, more like magnetism. A pull. Like gravity now listened to him.
He extended his hand.
The world responded.
Scraps of metal from across the beach rose into the air, floating like leaves in a windless storm. Screws, cans, wires, even a broken laptop all drifted toward him, circling his body.
With a thought, he compressed them into a perfect sphere.
"Okay… this is definitely Kid's power. The Magnet-Magnet Fruit."
He took a shaky breath, staring at the metal ball hovering beside him.
"Okay. Okay. I'm starting to get it."
He was a 16-year-old orphan with a mid-high tier quirk.
Now he also had a Devil Fruit power capable of manipulating metal—one that in a world like MHA, full of metallic structures, machines, vehicles, and weapons—was basically a cheat code.
"This changes everything."
He could already see it—using metal plates for armor, constructing weapons mid-fight, disarming villains in an instant. And if he awakened the fruit?
He could turn people into magnets, just like Kid did in Wano. That would make any metallic object a weapon against his enemies.
"Compared to the One Piece world, where Devil Fruits have to compete with Haki and Kaido-level monsters, this place is practically made for this power."
But it wasn't perfect.
"Kid had that ridiculous physique. He could tank hits while charging his moves. My quirk helps… but it's not limitless. I'll have to be smarter. Faster."
He started walking again, mind buzzing.
"My range right now is about 50 meters. I need to push that to 200 before the entrance exam. If I can train both my quirk and my fruit, I'll be unstoppable."
Then, a familiar voice.
"Young man, what are you doing on this beach?"
Hikaro froze.
Coming down the slope toward the trash was a tall, emaciated man in baggy clothes, and beside him, a green-haired boy clutching a notebook.
All Might and Midoriya.
"No way. It's starting. This is the scene."
This was it—the moment Midoriya met All Might. The beginning of the anime.
And Hikaro?
He wasn't part of it.
Not yet.
"I've got ten months. Let the plot do its thing for now."
Hikaro pulled his hood up, lowered his gaze, and walked right past them without a word. All Might gave him a curious glance but didn't stop him. Midoriya didn't even notice him.
And that was fine.
"I don't need to be in the spotlight just yet," he thought. "I'll build my power. My own legacy."
As he disappeared into the city streets, the trash-covered beach behind him faded into the distance. So did the version of himself who thought life was predictable.
This new world was brutal.
But it was also an opportunity.
And Hikaro?
He was going to rise to the top—or die trying