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In MHA, I Have A Pirated Version of Gojo's Limitless : 5 Childhood Friends?
🕑 Added 2025-06-28 20:41:54 +0000 UTCThe ride through Musutafu was quiet except for the soft hum of the car engine and my mother's occasional commentary about how much the city had changed. I found myself staring out the window, trying to put up the show of deja Vu with my complete lack of actual memories.
"The old convenience store is still there," she said, pointing to a small shop with a faded sign. "You used to love their ice cream. Always insisted on the weird flavors—wasabi, black sesame, anything the other kids wouldn't touch."
I nodded, filing away another piece of information about the boy whose life I was apparently living. "Sounds like me, I guess."
She glanced at me in the rearview mirror, her expression soft. "You know, even with everything that's happened, you still have that same stubborn streak. The way you insisted on applying to U.A., the way you stood up to that villain today... that's my Rei."
The words hit harder than I expected. This woman had been mourning her son for seven years, and here I was, wearing his face and accepting her love under false pretenses. The guilt was starting to become a physical weight in my chest.
"Um, Mom," I said, testing the word. It felt strange on my tongue, but not unpleasant. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything, sweetheart."
"What was I like? Before?"
She was quiet for a moment, navigating a turn onto a residential street lined with modest two-story houses. "You were... gentle. Thoughtful. You always noticed when someone was hurting, even when they tried to hide it. Maybe that's why the bullying hurt you so much—you couldn't understand how people could be cruel just for the sake of it."
She pulled into a driveway next to a small house with a red tile roof and a tiny garden out front. "You were also incredibly stubborn once you set your mind to something. I used to joke that you got that from your father's side of the family."
I stepped out of the car, shouldering my bag, and looked at what was apparently my childhood home. It was larger than I'd expected, with flower boxes in the windows and a small sign by the door that read "Takumi."
"It's not much," my mother said, fumbling with her keys, "but it's home. Your room is exactly how you left it. I... I couldn't bring myself to change anything."
“I see.”
I said in response to that particular emotional gut punch.
I looked at the house, then my gaze wandered. I wish it didn't, because it quickly locked onto someone I recognized.
And apparently, he recognized me back.
"IT'S YOU!"
The familiar voice exploded from the house next door.
Lo and behold, Katsuki Bakugo storming out of the neighboring house, his school uniform wrinkled and his face twisted in what was becoming a familiar expression of rage. Behind him, a blonde woman who looked like she could be his sister but was probably his mother stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.
"Katsuki! What are you yelling about now?" she called out, her voice carrying the kind of authority that suggested she was used to dealing with explosive teenagers.
"Hello, sparky boom boom boy," I said, unable to resist the opportunity. My day had been emotionally exhausting, and antagonizing Bakugo was apparently my go-to stress relief mechanism.
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" he roared, small explosions crackling around his palms. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"
"Katsuki, who is this?" his mother asked, stepping out of the house and getting her first good look at me. Her expression shifted from exasperation to confusion to something that looked like recognition.
"This is the asshole who—" Bakugo started, but his mother cut him off.
"Watch your language, brat!" She smacked him on the back of the head, then turned to study me more carefully. "Wait a minute... that face..."
My mother had been quietly unlocking our front door, but now she turned toward the commotion. When she saw Bakugo's mother, her face lit up with a smile that was equal parts joy and tears.
"Mitsuki?" she called out.
"Akira?" Mitsuki Bakugo's eyes went wide. "Is that... is that really...?"
"It's him," my mother—Akira—said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's really him. Rei's come home."
The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of Bakugo's brain apparently short-circuiting.
"WHAT?!" he exploded, looking between me and his mother like we'd all collectively lost our minds. "What do you mean 'come home'?! Who the hell is Rei?!"
Mitsuki was staring at me with an expression of wonder and disbelief. "My God, you're so tall now. You look just like your father did at that age." She turned to Bakugo. "Katsuki, this is Rei Takumi. You two used to be good friends when you were little."
"WHAT?!" Bakugo's voice cracked slightly. "That's impossible! I don't know this idiot!"
"You wouldn't remember," Mitsuki said gently. "He disappeared when you were Five. He's been missing since that day so you eventually ... Forgot."
I felt like I was watching a movie about someone else's life. "We were... friends?"
"Friends?" Mitsuki laughed, though there were tears in her eyes. "Yeah. You were pretty close ... In a ... Confrontational sort of way. Always getting into trouble together. Neither of you could get along without getting at each other's throats half of the time."
Bakugo was staring at me like I'd grown a second head. "This is bullshit. I don't remember any of this."
"You were both so young," Akira said softly. "And after Rei disappeared, you... you stopped talking about him. Your mother said it was too painful."
"I can't believe this," Mitsuki muttered, shaking her head. "Rei Takumi. After all these years." She looked at me with a mixture of affection and sadness. "Your mother never stopped looking for you, you know. She'd check with us every few months, hoping we'd heard something."
"I don't remember any of this," I said honestly. The situation I was hearing was quite absurd if my ears weren't deceiving me. I learned from the Bureau that the past me was Quirkless at seven. Deku used to be Bakugo's friend, he was Quirkless as well. Anyone who watched My Hero Academia could see how that relationship turned out at the early stages.
In fact, as a lover of the Anime that called out to me on my very first watch, the relationship between Izuku and Katsuki never really got through to me. It felt like one of those Toxic relationships people had with each other.
Like Batman and Joker, Superman and Luthor, that kind of shit.
The fact that Katsuki was friends with a quirkless person in some way or form was insane on its own.
"I don't remember anything from before three weeks ago."
"That's okay, sweetheart," Mitsuki said, and I could hear the same warmth in her voice that she probably used with Bakugo when he wasn't being explosive. "What matters is that you're back."
Bakugo was still staring at me, his explosions having died down to occasional sparks. "So you're telling me that this asshole—"
"Katsuki!"
"—this person who made me look like an idiot today is supposed to be my childhood friend?"
"From what I saw on the news," Mitsuki said dryly, "he saved your life. Maybe try being grateful instead of pissy."
"I didn't need saving!" Bakugo protested, but it sounded more like a reflex than genuine conviction.
"Uh-huh. Sure you didn't." Mitsuki turned to me and my mother. "Akira, this is incredible. You must be so happy."
"I can't believe it," my mother said, wiping her eyes. "After all these years..."
"We have to celebrate," Mitsuki declared, clapping her hands together. "Akira, you and Rei are coming over for dinner. No arguments. I'm making katsu curry."
"Oh, you don't have to—" my mother started.
"Like hell I don't," Mitsuki interrupted. "Do you know how many times I've wondered what happened to this kid? How many nights I've listened to Masaru worry about whether we should have done more to help look for him? We're celebrating, and that's final."
"Mom," Bakugo said, his voice strained, "you can't just—"
"I can and I will," Mitsuki said firmly. "And you're going to be polite to our guest, or I'll ground you until you're thirty."
Bakugo opened his mouth to argue, caught the look in his mother's eyes, and apparently decided that discretion was the better part of valor. "Fine. Whatever."
"Great!" Mitsuki beamed. "Give me an hour to get everything ready. Akira, does Rei still like extra sauce on his katsu?"
My mother looked at me helplessly. "I... we were going to get some from the store. He doesn't remember his preferences."
"Well, we'll find out, won't we?" Mitsuki said cheerfully. "This is going to be fun."
As the two mothers started discussing dinner plans, I found myself standing awkwardly next to Bakugo, who was glaring at me like I'd personally offended his entire family tree.
"So," I said, trying to break the tension, "we used to be friends, huh?"
"Apparently," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Did you have this quirk all those years ago? I should remember if you did."
"Nope. Apparently it manifested sometime after my disappearance."
"So you were quirkless till then? Being friends with you makes even less sense."
"You're telling me. Must be weird, finding out your childhood friend grew up to be someone who can kick your ass."
His head snapped up, eyes blazing. "You did NOT kick my ass!"
"I mean, I did save you from becoming villain smoothie," I pointed out. "That's pretty close."
"I had it handled!"
"Sure you did, sparky."
"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"
"Katsuki!" Mitsuki called out without even looking over. "What did I say about yelling?"
Bakugo grumbled something under his breath that probably wasn't suitable for polite company.
"Yeah, definitely can't see it," I said thoughtfully,
"See what?"
"Us being friends. You're loud and explosive, I'm... well, apparently I used to be gentle and thoughtful."
He stared at me and snorted disdainfully "You don't seem gentle and thoughtful now."
"Yeah, well, Ten years of missing memories and three weeks on the streets will change a person."
"What happened to you?" he asked suddenly, eyebrows raised. "Where have you been?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "I woke up in an alley three weeks ago with no memory of anything before that. No idea where I've been or what happened to me."
"That's..." He trailed off, apparently struggling with something. "That's fucked up."
"Yeah, it is."
We stood in silence for a moment, watching our mothers plan what was apparently going to be a very emotional dinner party.
Bakugo kicked at a small stone on the ground. "Whatever. It's not like we're kids anymore."
"No, but we'll probably become enemies."
He looked at me sharply. "What?"
"I mean, you did threaten to blow my face off earlier."
"That was different. You were being an asshole."
"I think that was you. Your inverted analysis ability is really disturbing."
"Why you m..."
"Boys!" Mitsuki called out. "Dinner's in an hour. Rei, I hope you're hungry. I'm making enough food to feed a small army."
"Looking forward to it," I called back, then turned to Bakugo. "So, should I expect you to try to murder me over dinner, or are you going to wait until dessert?"
"I haven't decided yet. Though keep talking and I might move it up to right now." he said, hands twitching.
"Fair enough. Just give me a heads up so I can make sure to finish eating first. Then I'll show you that you aren't even as strong as that sludge monster."
"Do You Have A Death Wish Or Something?"
As we walked toward our respective houses to get ready for dinner, I reflected on how surreal this entire day had been. This morning I'd been a homeless transmigrator with no legal identity. Now I was apparently the long-lost childhood friend of one of the main characters, with a loving mother and a place in the world.
I didn't know if I should say my luck had turned for the better or worse.
I looked at her face, radiant with joy as she unlocked our front door. I realized that maybe that didn't matter.
Maybe Rei Takumi and Kenneth Takakura could coexist. Maybe I could honor the memory of the boy who'd been lost while still being my own person.
"Rei?" my mother called from the doorway. "Are you coming?"
"Yeah," I said, shouldering my bag and walking toward the house that was apparently my home. "I'm coming."
As I stepped across the threshold, I made a decision. I might not be the same person who'd lived here Ten years ago, but I could be someone good.
"Welcome home, sweetheart," my mother said, closing the door behind us.
"It's good to be back, I guess." I said. Even if I didn't remember leaving in the first place.
