The story of a hero in my hero academia

1 year old Hiroki

"Hiroki, come eat," said my mom.

Well, technically, her name is Hana, and my dad's name is Ken. Together, we are the Saito family, a pretty ordinary household... if you overlook the fact that their one-year-old child is not so ordinary at all.

"Coming!" I replied, waddling across the wooden floor with clumsy but determined steps.

That's right—I can walk. I can also hold simple conversations in Japanese. Not bad, not bad at all… considering I'm still technically a baby. Or at least, my body is.

In truth, I'm not your average infant. I was reincarnated, memories intact, into this strange but familiar world. Familiar because I've seen it before—on screen.

While other babies babble and suck their thumbs, I spend my mornings analyzing news reports, keeping up with hero rankings, and mentally mapping power structures. I'm not playing with blocks—I'm studying battlefield tactics.

Meanwhile, my parents were already seated at the dining table. The smell of miso soup and grilled fish filled the air.

"You should stop watching so much TV—it's bad for your health," said my mom with a hint of scolding.

Uh-oh. Here we go again.

I turned toward my dad with my best 'save me' look. And sure enough, he smiled and answered like the MVP he is:

"Come on, Hana. Let him watch a little TV. It's the only thing he does that's actually normal for a kid his age."

Nice assist, Dad. I owe you one.

"Yes, I agree he should watch TV like all the other children," my mom replied, "but he doesn't watch cartoons. He watches the news and the fights between heroes and villains."

Damn. She's not wrong.

I had no choice but to use my special move: my cutest expression, tilted head, soft blinking eyes... and just the tiniest pout.

Activate: Maximum Cuteness Protocol.

"Okay, okay, Hiro—you win," she sighed, ruffling my hair. "But at least try to watch something age-appropriate once in a while."

What could she even say to her handsome little genius?

That's right—I'm not only smart, I'm adorable. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, perfectly symmetrical face. I hit the jackpot with these genes. Obviously, I got most of it from my mom.

No offense to Dad, of course. But green hair? Yeah, not really my thing.

"Yes, Mum!" I said cheerfully, hopping up onto the cushion on my booster chair.

I glanced back at the TV.

All Might was still young and in his prime. The Symbol of Peace, full of energy and charisma.

That's when I did the math.

Based on how young he looks, this must be at least 10–15 years before the main story begins.

Which means... I'm probably the same age as Izuku Midoriya right now.

My jaw nearly dropped.

I haven't heard his name on the news yet, and no one's mentioned him—but the timeline fits.

Luck? Fate? Or just narrative convenience?

Either way, what's done is done. I'm here now, and I need to prepare.

I keep hoping for a system to suddenly appear. A menu. A quest log. Some kind of ding that will change everything.

Come on, world. Give me the broken system every reincarnated MC gets!

Knowing my luck, I probably won't even have a quirk.

A system would really help me out here…

Right now, though, there's not much I can do. For god's sake—I can't even read yet.

Sigh.

Only time will tell.