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In MHA, I Have A Pirated Version of Gojo's Limitless: 7 Tomorrow's Problem Is Bigger Than I Thought
🕑 Added 2025-06-28 20:44:55 +0000 UTC"The sparring sounds like a lovely idea. Maybe some competition together will help you remember some of our old sparring sessions."
"We used to spar?"
"Every day," Mitsuki said, smiling at the memory. "You two would go at it in the backyard until one of us made you stop. Usually because the neighbors complained about the noise."
"Huh." I looked at Bakugo with new interest. "And who usually won?"
"Me, obviously," he said immediately. "How could I lose to a quirkless kid?"
"That's not what I remember," my mother said dryly. "As I recall, Rei won more often than he lost. He had no quirk, but he was clever and older
"Clever how?" I asked.
"You never tried to overpower Katsuki," she explained. "You'd wait for him to overextend himself, then use his own momentum against him. Drove him crazy."
"Still does, apparently," I muttered, earning a glare from Bakugo.
"Hmm. At least he knew how to fight despite being Quirkless." He muttered, his voice very low. "Unlike Deku."
Hmm? That last part couldn't be heard by anyone but me and my superhuman senses.
'I see, so that's how the past me made friends with him.'
My understanding of Katsuki Bakugo was thorough enough to put the pieces together. Just from his bullying of his childhood friend, Deku from a young age, Katsuki respected strength and especially the strength that came from quirks. Not only was he proud, he was self confident and arrogant at a young age to the point he developed a superiority complex so severe that he automatically saw help being offered from anyone he saw as weaker than him as an insult.
Izuku, the main protagonist, fit completely in that criteria.
My alternate self however, seemingly only bore one of those traits and that was Quirkless. From my deduction, perhaps his ability to actually battle Bakugo and win, regardless of how, was what made both friends.
It made sense somewhat. True friendship could only last when it was based on equality.
Of course this was probably only because Bakugo was still young and his quirk was still weak at he time. If my alternate self hadn't disappeared soon after and Bakugo grew stronger, then as long as he remained Quirkless, the relationship with Bakugo would spiral the same way it did with Izuku.
"So," Masaru said, clearly trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground, "what's your plan for preparing for the U.A. entrance exam?"
"Physical training, obviously. Combat practice. I should probably study up on hero laws and regulations too." I paused, considering. "Actually, training with Bakugo might not be a bad idea. He knows more about the hero world than I do."
"Damn right I do," Bakugo said, looking pleased. "I've been preparing for U.A. my whole life."
"Then it's settled," Mitsuki declared. "You two can train together. Just try not to destroy the neighborhood in the process."
"No promises," Bakugo and I said simultaneously, then looked at each other in surprise.
"See?" Masaru said, smiling. "Some things never change."
Katsuki's face crumpled up in displeasure which I pad no heed but touched my chin thoughtfully.
As the evening wound down and we prepared to leave, I found myself feeling oddly content. The dinner had been chaotic and overwhelming, but also warm and welcoming in a way I hadn't experienced since waking up in that alley three weeks ago.
"Thank you," I told Mitsuki as she pressed a container of leftover curry into my hands. "For dinner, and for... everything."
"Don't be silly," she said, pulling me into a hug that somehow bypassed my Infinity entirely. Just kidding. I had turned it off before the whole dinner even began. Would be weird if they tried to hug me and ended up hugging the space between us. "You're family. You always have been."
"Thank you. I appreciate it." I said while walking away. "I'll see you all next time. Later sparky."
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"
"Katsuki!" Two voices yelled simultaneously.
As we walked back to our house, my mother linked her arm through mine. "How was that?" she asked softly.
"Overwhelming," I admitted. "But good overwhelming. If that makes sense."
"It does," she said. "I'm proud of you, you know. For being so brave today, and for handling all of this so well."
I thought about that as we entered our house—my house, I corrected myself. The guilt was still there, the knowledge that I was living a life that belonged to someone else. But maybe that didn't matter as much as I'd thought.
___
Next Day
I woke up in a bed that was supposedly mine but felt like a museum exhibit.
The room was exactly as a seven-year-old boy had left it ten years ago—All Might posters on the walls, action figures lined up on shelves, a desk covered with homework assignments that would never be completed. Clothes in the wardrobe I would never wear because they were too small for me.
The walls were covered with posters of heroes I recognized from the anime, though seeing them in person yesterday had been surreal. All Might smiled down at me from the largest poster, his signature phrase "I AM HERE!" written in bold letters beneath his muscled form.
On the desk sat notebooks filled with a child's handwriting, hero analysis that looked remarkably similar to what I remembered of Deku's obsessive note-taking. There were action figures on the shelves, and a small collection of books, one about quirkless heroes throughout history.
It was a very small book, I could tell you that.
Everything was like stepping into a time capsule, and I was the ghost haunting it.
Sunlight streamed through curtains decorated with cartoon heroes, illuminating dust motes that danced in the air. I sat up slowly, my enhanced senses immediately cataloging everything in the room. The slight mustiness of a space that had been preserved but not truly lived in. The faint scent of my mother's cleaning supplies. The way the floorboards creaked in specific patterns that suggested someone had walked this path many times over the years.
She had been coming in here. Regularly. Keeping it clean, keeping it ready for a son who might never come home.
'Great. Here comes the guilt Tripping.'
It felt like I was living in a shrine to a dead boy, accepting the love of a woman who was mourning someone I'd never been, planning a future built on a foundation of lies I didn't even understand myself.
A soft knock interrupted my spiral of self-recrimination.
"Rei? Are you awake, sweetheart?"
"Yeah, Mom. Come in."
She entered carrying a tray with what smelled like miso soup, rice, and grilled fish. "I thought you might be hungry. You barely ate anything yesterday after all that excitement."
Barely ate? I probably ate the combined portions of everyone on that table. Not gonna point that out and dampen her enthusiasm though, because I currently wasn't satisfied.
"You didn't have to—"
"Hush," she said, setting the tray on the desk after carefully moving aside what looked like a half-finished math worksheet. "Let me take care of you. I've been waiting seven years for the chance."
She definitely meant it.
I could see and feel the Joy radiating off her and Maternal love almost overflowing like a full lake after years of non stop rain accumulation.
"Sleep well?" she asked, setting a bowl in front of me.
"Better than I have in weeks," I admitted. "Thank you. For everything."
"Don't thank me for giving my son a home," she said gently. "This is where you belong."
I wanted to argue, to point out all the ways I wasn't really her son, but the words died in my throat. What was the point? She needed me to be Rei Takumi, and I... I needed to be someone who belonged somewhere.
I accepted the food gratefully, "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"What happened the day I disappeared?"
Her face fell slightly, but she sat on the edge of the bed with the patience of someone who'd been preparing for this conversation for years.
"It was a Thursday," she said quietly. "You'd had a particularly bad day at school. Some boys in your class had cornered you during lunch, said some cruel things about your father, about how you'd probably never amount to anything without a quirk."
I set down my chopsticks. "What did I do?"
"You fought back. Got yourself a black eye and a trip to the principal's office for your trouble." She smiled sadly. "I was so proud of you for showing some fire, but also worried about what it meant."
"Worried how?"
"You'd been so withdrawn since your father died. Accepting the bullying like you deserved it. But that day, you came home angry. Really angry. You said you were tired of being weak, tired of people thinking they could push you around just because you didn't have a quirk."
She paused, lost in the memory. "I told you we'd talk about switching schools, maybe moving to a different district. You seemed to calm down after that. You went to your room and played a few games on your computer. Then you came out, visibly annoyed like your game didn't go very well and said you were going to walk around the neighborhood to clear your head. That was the last time I saw you."
"I just... vanished?"
"The police found your backpack by the river three days later. They thought..." She took a shaky breath. "They thought you might have jumped. A quirkless kid who'd been bullied, whose father had died, facing the prospect of more years of the same treatment."
The implications hit me like a truck. "You thought I killed myself."
"For two years, yes. It wasn't until they found no body, no other evidence, that they started considering other possibilities. Kidnapping, human trafficking, quirk experimentation." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I never knew which possibility was worse."
I reached out and took her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you went through that."
"You have nothing to apologize for," she said firmly. "Whatever happened to you, wherever you've been, you survived. You came back to me. That's all that matters."
A phone ringing downstairs interrupted the moment. She sighed and stood up.
"That's probably the Hero Commission. Agent Yoshida said they'd call this morning to schedule your quirk assessment." She paused at the door. "Are you ready for that?"
"As ready as I can be."
"Good. Because after breakfast, we need to go shopping for clothes that actually fit you. I refuse to let my son walk around looking like a scarecrow."
After she left, I finished my breakfast and stared at the All Might poster on the wall. The Symbol of Peace smiled down at me with his trademark confidence.
"Rei! Agent Yoshida is on the phone. She wants to talk to you."
I made my way downstairs, where she handed me the cordless phone with an encouraging smile.
"Good morning, Kenneth—sorry, Rei," Agent Yoshida's voice came through clearly. "I hope you're adjusting well to being back home."
"As well as can be expected," I said. "What can I do for you?"
"We've scheduled your comprehensive quirk assessment for this afternoon at 2 PM. It's at the Hero Commission's main testing facility in downtown Musutafu. Do you know where that is?"
"I can find it."
"Excellent. Now, I want to prepare you for what to expect. This isn't an interrogation or a test you can fail. We simply need to understand the full extent of your abilities for registration purposes and to ensure you receive proper support."
"What kind of tests?"
"Physical fitness assessments, quirk demonstration and measurement, psychological evaluation—standard procedure for anyone with significant abilities. The whole process should take about four hours."
"Will my mother be allowed to come with me?"
"Of course. We encourage family support during these assessments." She paused. "Rei, I want you to know that the investigation into your disappearance has been elevated to high priority. We're going to find out what happened to you."
"I appreciate that, but I don't want you to get your hopes up. I really don't remember anything."
"That's alright. Sometimes the truth has a way of revealing itself when we're not looking for it." She sounded almost cryptic. "We'll see you at two o'clock."
After hanging up, I found my mother in the kitchen, washing dishes with the kind of focused intensity that suggested she was using the mundane task to process her emotions.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"Just thinking about how much you've changed," she said without turning around. "Years ago, you were so gentle, so careful about everything. Now you're planning to become a hero, and talking back to government agents."
"Is that a bad thing?"
She turned to face me, and I was surprised to see she was smiling. "No, sweetheart. It's exactly what I hoped for. You're not that scared little boy anymore. You're strong now."
"I don't feel strong. I feel lost."
"Being lost isn't the same as being weak," she said, drying her hands on a dish towel. "Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is admit you don't have all the answers."
She crossed the kitchen and pulled me into a hug that smelled like home and safety and unconditional love.
"Rei, listen to me very carefully. I don't need you to be the same person you were at ten years old. I need you to be whoever you are right now, in this moment. The boy who saves people from villains, who wants to become a hero, who still can't resist antagonizing the Bakugo boy next door." She pulled back to look at me. "That's my son. That's who I've been waiting for."
I felt something tight in my chest finally begin to loosen.
Turns out, this was what motherly love was? Wow ... Being an Orphan ... You clearly didn't know what you were missing out on.
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, sweetheart. More than you'll ever know."
As I helped her finish the dishes, I reflected on how strange it was to feel so at home in a life that wasn't technically mine. It felt .. weird.
"So," my mother said, hanging up the dish towel, "ready to go shopping for clothes that don't make you look like you're drowning in fabric?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Absolutely not. I have Ten years of mothering to catch up on, and that starts with making sure you're properly dressed."
I laughed despite myself. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. And after that, we're getting you registered for a library card, opening a bank account, and figuring out what you need for school."
"School?"
"Did you think you were just going to sit around the house until the U.A. entrance exam? You need to finish your education, young man. I'm enrolling you at Aldera Junior High."
"Isn't that where—"
"Where you and Katsuki went before? Yes. It might help trigger some memories."
Or it might be incredibly awkward when I ran into Deku and Katsuki at the same time. Hold on, woul Deku recognize me from the past?
"Aren't I a little too .... Alright," I said, not finishing."Whatever you think is best."
"That's my good boy," she said, ruffling my hair. "Now go get dressed. We have a busy day ahead of us."
As I headed back upstairs, I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror. For just a moment, I could almost see the resemblance to the boy in the photographs—something around the eyes, maybe, or the way I held my shoulders.
I realized I needed to figure out what clothes actually fit me now. My mother had bought me some basics last night, but I'd been too overwhelmed to pay much attention to what she'd gotten.
I opened the dresser drawers, finding new clothes still with tags attached - jeans, t-shirts, hoodies in dark colors that looked like they'd actually fit my current seventeen-year-old frame rather than the seven-year-old past self.
As I pulled out a dark blue t-shirt, something caught my eye. Tucked between folded clothes was a thick notebook with a worn cover. The edges were frayed from use, and "Rei's Ideas" was written across the front in a child's careful handwriting.
Curiosity got the better of me. I pulled it out and set it on the desk, opening to the first page as I started getting dressed.
The page was filled with drawings - crude but enthusiastic sketches of what looked like heroes in various costumes. Notes scribbled in the margins about quirk ideas, hero names, even what appeared to be story outlines.
"Hero who can control gravity - Graviton?"
"Flying brick hero - too basic?"
"Time manipulation - too OP?"
I smiled despite myself. The kid had been creative, I'd give him that. I flipped through more pages, seeing designs for costumes, analyses of existing heroes' strengths and weaknesses, and what looked like the beginnings of stories.
Then I reached a page that made me freeze completely.
*Novel Ideas*
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
"..."
Well that took an unexpected turn. I could swear my heart almost stopped.
I stared at the title, hoping I was misreading it somehow. But no, there it was in clear, childish handwriting. Below it were notes:
"Four turtle brothers trained by rat sensei. Leonardo - leader, Raphael - tough guy, Donatello - smart one, Michelangelo - funny one. Fight Shredder and Foot Clan. Live in sewers, eat pizza."
In the corner of the page, almost like an afterthought, was a single word: "Nickelodeon."
"What the hell..." I whispered, my hands shaking as I turned the page.
"Rei? Everything alright up there?" my mother's voice called from downstairs.
"Fine!" I called back, my voice coming out strangled. "Just getting dressed!"
I stared at the notebook like it was a venomous snake. This couldn't be possible. TMNT was a franchise from my old world, from Earth. There was no way a seven-year-old Japanese kid in a world of quirks and heroes should know about it, let alone have detailed notes about the characters and plot.
With trembling fingers, I turned more pages.
*Song Ideas*
"What Makes You Beautiful" - One Direction
"Ghost" - Justin Bieber
"Queen Of My Heart" - WestLife
Below that were rough lyrics - not perfect, and edited somewhat but close enough to the original songs to make my blood run cold.
More pages revealed character sketches with names that made my reality feel like it was crumbling:
- A spiky-haired blonde with a massive sword labeled "Cloud Strife"
- An orange-haired boy with whisker marks - "Naruto Uzumaki"
- A dark-haired teenager holding a notebook - "Light Yagami"
- A Humanoid Robot armor with red and yellow paint - "Iron Man"
- A detailed sketch of the Justice League Logo
- A ... Picture of Tsunade?
Each drawing was accompanied by notes about their personalities, powers, and story arcs that matched perfectly with franchises that shouldn't exist in this world.
I heard footsteps on the stairs. Panicking, I quickly pulled on my shirt and jeans, shoving the notebook back into the drawer just as my mother appeared in the doorway.
"You're taking a while up here," she said, smiling. "Find everything okay?"
"Yeah, just... I found this notebook." I gestured vaguely toward the drawer. "Was just looking through it."
Her expression softened. "Oh, your idea book! You used to carry that thing everywhere. Always scribbling down stories and drawings."
"Did I... did I show you the things I wrote?"
"Oh yes, all the time. You were so excited about your ideas." She laughed fondly. "You had such wild imagination. You'd tell me about these elaborate stories with turtle ninjas, ninja wizards and flying teenagers with orange hair. You said you were going to become not just a hero, but the world's greatest novelist, musician, and manga creator. You were going to make millions from your stories and become the richest man alive even if you were quirkless and we'd never have to worry about anything again."
My mouth went dry. "Flying teenagers with orange hair?"
"Mm-hmm. And boy bands from England, and American comic book heroes with capes. You had such detailed ideas about everything." She shook her head, still smiling. "I used to wonder where you came up with it all."
"Did I ever... did I ever mention where I got these ideas?"
"You said they came to you in dreams sometimes. Other times you'd just say your brain was special." She reached over and ruffled my hair. "I always encouraged your creativity. Your father used to say you'd either become a famous artist or end up in an asylum."
She chuckled at the memory, but I felt like I was drowning.
"Mom, did I ever create anything that... that already existed? Like, did you ever see movies or books that matched my ideas?"
She tilted her head, thinking. "No, never. Everything you came up with was completely original. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious," I managed. "Wondering if I might remember some of my old ideas."
"Well, feel free to look through it anytime. Maybe it'll help jog your memory." She checked her watch. "Now hurry up and finish getting ready. We have shopping to do, and then your assessment this afternoon."
After she left, I waited until I heard her footsteps recede down the hallway. Then I reached for the computer in the room, put in the password with lightning and opened a browser.
Search: "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles"
No results found.
Search: "One Direction"
No results found.
Search: "Naruto manga"
No results found.
Search: "Final Fantasy VII"
No results found.
Search: "Death Note"
No results found.
I backed away, my hands trembling. Every single franchise from the notebook - things that had been massive cultural touchstones in my original world - didn't exist here. At all.
Which meant...
Which meant the original Rei Takumi had somehow known about things from my world. Things that no one in this reality should have any knowledge of.
The implications hit me like a freight train.
The original Rei Takumi had been a transmigrator too?
Dammit!
Someone Call HR in Fictional Transmigration Services & Logistics.
Code Mucus. I repeat, we have a disgusting Code Mucus
Comments
Ruzzzy
It's unclear how long he was absent, sometimes 10, sometimes 7 years.. This needs to be clarified
