Seven fucking years.
That's how long I've been reborn in this world, the one where people can break the laws of physics before breakfast.
Oh, right. I should probably introduce myself. Name's Shinra Torino. Yeah, that Torino. Grandson of the legendary Gran Torino, the speed demon who kicked ass. My parents? They're dead. Killed by some asshole villain when I was too young to remember their faces. Just another tragic backstory in a world full of them.
I catch my reflection in the window, blue hair with these weird gray shades at the ends, bright blue eyes that stand out way too much. I look like a fucking anime character dropped into the wrong show.
Born into a society of superheroes and villains, I got... nothing. No fancy powers, no cool mutation, not even the tiniest of quirks. Just a famous last name I barely care about, a cranky old grandfather who raised me, and a complete absence of anything remotely super.
I checked. Re-peat-edly.
"Doctors say it's a fluke," I mutter to myself, staring at my pathetically normal hands. "Gran Torino says it's character-building. I call it a cosmic fucking joke."
Most days, I play it cool. Train. Study. Take kicks to the face from a retired pro hero who thinks "mentorship" is a synonym for "attempted homicide with style." Still, no quirk.
"It would've been tolerable, " I growl, slamming my locker shut, ", maybe, if I weren't constantly compared to Grandpa."
I mean, the guy is a legend. Speed-boosting, villain-punting, quirkless hero legend. I, on the other hand, can't pass the school's introductory combat class without getting flung across the room like a sentient bean bag.
So when I turned thirteen and nothing had changed, I figured that was it. Game over. The dream? Done.
"I'll just do what quirkless people do," I whisper to myself, slouching deeper into my seat. "Get sidelined, benched, or buried."
School is where the real fun begins.
"Hey, Shinra!"
Nejire's voice cracks through my thoughts as I slump in my seat, my mind halfway between sleep and dread. Her bouncy, almost glowing energy is the perfect contrast to my exhausted existence.
I don't even have to look up to know who it is.
"What's up, Nejire?" I ask, not bothering to raise my head. The textbook in front of me is way more interesting than looking at her wide grin and twinkling eyes. Okay, that's a lie. But I'm not giving her the satisfaction.
"You're coming to the study group after class, right?" she asks, practically bouncing on her feet. Her voice is full of that energy that could make anyone feel like they're going to conquer the world, if only for a few minutes.
"Yeah. I'll be there," I say, keeping it short. I'm not in the mood for socializing, but it seems like something I can do without getting smacked into a wall, so whatever.
She grins even wider. "Good! See you after class!"
As she skips away, I let out a sigh that feels like it's coming from the very bottom of my soul. "God, why is she always so... alive?" I mutter.
She's always so positive, so... bright, even when things are rough. And then there's me, just a background character in this vibrant, chaotic world. The NPC in someone else's hero story.
Nejire and I have been friends since the start of middle school. To be honest, I still don't know why she keeps hanging out with me. Her future is as bright as the sun, she's all but guaranteed to become a pro hero. Me? I'm just some quirkless dude with a grandfather who thinks "training" means getting kicked in the ribs while trying not to die.
"Fun fucking times," I grumble, chewing on my pencil.
I glance over at her, watching her interact with the other students. Even though her power is flashy and powerful, it's her drive that impresses everyone. She's already a shining star among the rest of us, and here I am, just trying not to trip over my own feet.
But I can't help it, I like hanging out with her. Nejire is my friend, and, alright, maybe a little bit of a crush, but who could blame me? She's amazing.
"Way out of my league, though," I sigh. "I'll just stick with being the guy who carries her books and tries not to land face-first on the floor."
"Shinra!"
Oh great.
I turn, and it's exactly what I expected: three dumb-looking idiots blocking my path. The middle one, Takeshi, the leader of this brain trust, steps forward, his quirk making his arms bulge with unnatural muscle.
"What do you want?" I ask, sounding bored even though my heart's picking up speed. "I'm kind of busy contemplating my tragic existence here."
Takeshi sneers. "Heard you're hanging out with Nejire again. Don't you think she deserves better than some quirkless loser?"
I roll my eyes so hard I swear I can see my own brain. "Wow, that's original. Did you stay up all night thinking of that one, or did your two brain cells bump into each other by accident?"
His face turns red. Not a good sign for me, but my mouth has always been faster than my survival instinct.
"You think you're funny?" he growls, stepping closer.
"Funnier than you, but that's not saying much," I reply, backing up slightly. "Look, can we skip to the part where you threaten me and I pretend to be scared? I've got places to be."
"You little, "
"Is there a problem here?"
Nejire's voice cuts through the tension like a knife, and suddenly she's standing next to me, her usually cheerful expression replaced with something... harder.
Great. Just what I need. A girl fighting my battles.
But I can't deny the relief washing over me.
"No problem," Takeshi mutters, backing off. "We were just talking."
"Yeah," I say, smirking at him. "Just a friendly chat between intellectual equals. Well, I was being intellectual, they were being equal to each other."
Nejire elbows me in the ribs as the three walk away, grumbling.
"You know," she says, her voice dropping to a whisper, "you could try not antagonizing people who could literally twist you into a pretzel."
I shrug, trying to look cooler than I feel. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, my grandfather twists me into worse shapes every training session."
She laughs, and for a moment, I forget that I'm powerless in a world of powers. That I'm ordinary in a world that worships the extraordinary.
"Come on," she says, grabbing my arm. "We're gonna be late."
As I let her drag me down the hallway, I can't help thinking: This is my life now. Running from bullies, crushing on a girl way out of my league, and training for a future that might never exist.
And you know what the worst part is?
I wouldn't have it any other way.
...Okay, that's a lie. I'd definitely have it another way if I could get a quirk. But beggars can't be choosers, right?
Right?
Fuck.