MHA: LAW OF MOTION

CHAPTER ONE.

"This encounter will not register in your memory". He proclaimed while sitting leisurely upon an obsidian throne.

The words echoed in the chamber, vibrating through the walls as if the very air was alive with the weight of his proclamation. He exuded an eerie calm, an indifference that chilled the bones.

The man standing before him, a shadowy figure draped in tattered robes, shuddered, though he did not flinch. His gaze fixed on the obsidian throne, his mind reeling from the absurdity of what was being said to him. A new life? What was that supposed to mean? He was loath to trust anything this strange being had said.

"I don't understand," the man spoke, his voice shaking but insistent. "Who are you? Why am I here? The being smiled, a smile that was not meant to offer comfort. It was not cruel, not necessarily, but it was unsettling in its vastness. "A pact, a contract to be fulfilled."

The silence stretched for a moment, as the man absorbed the implications. A pact with who, when and why me exactly.

"Your memories will remain with you," the being continued, "but they will fade in time, like fog in the morning light. You will remember, but not fully. You will be made to forget the parts of your past that do not matter, and only that which is necessary will remain."

"But what is necessary?" the man asked in a low growl clearly getting angry.

The being's smile grew wider, more enigmatic, teasing even. "Who knows. That... is for you to discover."

He raised a hand, a slow, deliberate gesture, and the obsidian throne seemed to shift, the very air around them growing heavier. The man felt his mind begin to cloud, thoughts slipping away like water through his fingers.

"You're a genius aren't you; I look forward to what you can do with your gift, incomplete as it may be. Your new life will be sure to entertain me" the being intoned softly, and just as quickly, the world around the man began to blur and fade.

His last conscious thought, as the darkness closed in, was a faint hope that he would recover everything because regardless of how painful it may have been it was all he'd ever known.

SEPTEMBER 11 JAPAN

The Labor and delivery unit was a world in constant motion. Bright overhead lights bathed the pristine white walls, their glow softened only by the occasional flicker of monitors displaying the vital signs of mothers-to-be.

In one room, a woman gripped the bedrails, her knuckles white with effort as waves of pain rippled through her. Beads of sweat formed on her head, her breathing labored as she screamed profanities at her husband who could only smile awkwardly with undisguised worry written on his brows. A nurse stood beside her, whispering words of encouragement while adjusting the IV line unfazed by the screaming woman. Honestly as midwives they had seen their fair share of similar scenarios; this was a rather tame situation in comparison. The obstetrician clad in sterile scrubs watched the monitor carefully wary of any complications as sleep deprived as she was this was clearly a very important moment.

The obstetrician stood at the foot of the bed, her gloved hands ready, her voice calm. "Alright, it's time. You'll have to take a deep breath and then push as hard as you can."

The mother, with a guttural cry like the bellow of a wild beast, acting on instinct summoned strength from deep within, trembling from the exertion. Then, with one last groan—finally, relief.

 A deep silence settled on the room as the nurses and everyone else in the room waited for the anticipated cry that seemed to take eons to form. As the silence continued, a growing unease settled on the newly minted mother, her relief long gone.

"Doctor, why isn't my baby moving?" Having never dealt with a case like this, the doctor was obviously at a loss for words and was slowly about to offer words of comfort until a nurse picked the baby up and slapped him on the butt.

 And then, with a jolt, the baby coughed, and with a kaleidoscope of colors flooding its eyes, I could see—I lived. With a loud cry, the baby screamed at the top of its lungs, and everyone seemed relieved, with the doctor giving a thumbs-up to the midwife, who had just taken action.

Not me, though; all I could feel was a stinging pain, like being poked by a blazing rod. "That f-ing hurts," I muttered. I tried making sense of my surroundings, but everything looked like I was on an acid trip. As I tried getting my bearings, I felt my vision settling, and I could finally make sense of what was going on around me. "I fucking hate hospitals—why, though? I don't know for sure. And why am I surrounded by giants? And—the hell—why is that woman's head a blob of water?" With that startling revelation, I became intensely drowsy and fell into a deep slumber

FOUR YEARS LATER

"Okay, kids, it's time for recess. Split into groups and have fun," the blue, misty-haired kindergarten teacher said gently, a warm smile plastered on her face. The fifteen or so children immediately scattered, laughing and screaming all the way.

In the midst of all these screaming children stood—or rather sat—an interesting anomaly. A black-haired and dark-skinned kid sat in the middle of the classroom, staring intently at the tower of JENGA blocks as he slowly removed a tile from the base of the tower.

"Hayami-kun, quit playing with those weird blocks and come play with me," a blue-skinned child with large ivory horns beckoned as she stood at the doorway.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," he said dismissively, clearly disinterested in whatever she had to say.

Hana pouted, clearly displeased that her calls were being ignored once more. She was taught to make as many friends as possible. Even though she didn't know why her parents insisted she should make as many friends as possible, she didn't actually mind the task when she thought of how much fun she got to have with everyone.

 Well, everyone but Hayami-kun from her class, who was very detached. All the teachers liked him, but everyone else thought he was weird—especially Souta from the other class, who said he was a weirdo. But that was a very mean thing to say, and she already asked him to apologize. Mama would usually classify kids like this as shy, and she was very good with shy people. All they needed was a little push, and they all proved to be very lovely.

"Hayamiiii, Boji-kun from class B awakened his quirk! His hands went whaa, and then swoosh—they stretched like tape! You should really come see it!" Hana said while towering over his seat, resting her hands dangerously close to the tower he had already stacked.

With a resigned sigh, he looked up at his classmate, who had made it a habit to try to involve him in her escapades since school started. It had been a month already, and he half expected a child to lose interest by this time.

"What is it this time, Hana? As you can see clearly, I'm currently preoccupied," he said halfheartedly. He still was not ready to submit to the reality where he would have to mingle with snot-nosed brats. As he looked up at his assailant, he was met with black pupils brimming with tears. "Am I a bother to you? Do you hate me?"

At this point, he was at a loss for words, as he really did not expect her to start crying out of nowhere. He sighed for about the umpteenth time today as he raised his hands to wipe her tears. "No, I don't hate you, Hana, and I don't find you annoying at all."

While he was initially annoyed by these encounters, the little girl—who in his past life would have definitely been labeled as a monster—had quietly grown on him. She was undoubtedly a cute kid compared to the other loud, obnoxious kids in the class.

 "So that means you like me then, so that means we're friends" as Hana said that she smiled foolishly in her simple four year old perception anyone who didn't hate her was a friend or mummy and daddy.

"No that's not-" he wasn't even halfway done and she already seemed like she would cry again "Never mind sure we're friends" he said in an exasperated tone as he rose to his feet and gently rubbed her hair, she beamed even more at that gesture and then he already resigned himself to whatever she had planned.

Seeing that he approved her presence Hana launched into an endless tirade. The gist of it was that a student here apparently awakened a quirk that shoots out his fingers or makes them grow. He couldn't really understand the description, as Hana usually used nondescript sound effects while describing the ability.

Ah, quirks—lest I forget. The nurse in the delivery room being a literal blob of water wouldn't be the weirdest thing I've seen. It all started in Qingqing, China, a couple of hundred years back with the birth of a baby who could glow and produce light. Since then, this world has become a superhuman society, with people having powers that only existed in fantasy. These powers were termed quirks. Although a gradual process, now roughly 80% of the population possesses quirks.

At first, I was excited by the possibility of getting a quirk and excitedly pondered what quirk I might eventually possess and how to best develop it. But it's been four years, and I haven't sensed the slightest bit of power stirring in me.

I thought it was something that could only be awakened under extreme duress, like the X-gene, which led to some stupid decisions and a serious spanking—memories I would really not like to recall. Then, recently, I believed it could only be awakened by deep concentration. So far, I've been doing a lot of thought exercises and engaging in deep mental activities to no avail for the past year. Thinking of the kid who sits by me at school—who eats crayons and is very easily distracted, blowing bubbles that don't pop and levitate in the air—I find this theory very unfeasible.

When I saw a news clip about this country's number one hero—yes, a professional hero, two words that I never thought would be strung together—individuals tasked with taking down dangerous people who use their quirks to destabilize society, "villains," I feel that calling those who don't conform to society's standards "villains" is a bit dangerous. But as a person existing in the system, I don't think there's anything I can do about it in the short term.

As I saw a video of all might rescuing citizens from a sinking ship I had a vague impression of him and then immediately after I had a soul splitting headache, recollections, saying strange names, weird ideas of things that do not exist and memories of a past life that are fragmented led me to the conclusion that I had been reincarnated into a fictional world that I may have previously had an understanding of before.

The thought that my memories had been tampered with or possibly altered with terrifies me, especially the kind of being who could place me silently in another world.

"Are you okay, or are you hungry, Hayami-kun?" Hana said, passing him a stick of candy.

"It's nothing, really. I just spaced out for a bit," he said apologetically and kindly accepted her offer of candy.

"Oh and Hana, my name's Rio, you can call me Rio".

He was still not sure what purpose he was sent to this world for; he had no idea what the future would hold, but for now—at least for now—the future was something to look forward to.