The Honored One (MHA)

The first thing Kyle—or whatever he was now—felt was cold. Not the kind of cold you'd get from stepping outside in winter without a coat, but the bone-deep chill that made him want to scream. So he did.

It wasn't on purpose. The scream burst out of him, loud and shrill, and completely out of his control. He didn't mean to, but his new body had other plans. It was raw instinct, and it hit him all at once: he wasn't just screaming. He was crying.

The sound shocked him almost as much as the cold.

What the hell? he thought. He tried to move, to open his mouth and demand answers, but his limbs felt like wet noodles, and his jaw wouldn't cooperate. His fingers twitched, but they were tiny, useless things, and his attempts to move his legs ended in nothing more than pathetic flailing.

No. No way. This can't be happening.

The light above him was too bright, blinding in a way that felt cruel. He tried to turn away from it, but his head was too heavy to lift. Somewhere nearby, voices murmured. They were muffled and far away, like he was hearing them through water, but they were definitely voices.

"Congratulations, it's a boy!" someone said cheerfully, the words breaking through the haze like an arrow through fog.

Kyle's mind screeched to a halt.

No. Don't tell me. No way in hell. I'm not—

A pair of hands scooped him up, warm and gentle, but firm enough to let him know he wasn't going anywhere. He felt himself being wrapped in something soft, like a blanket, and then he was cradled against someone's chest.

"Look at him, Hiroto," a woman's voice said softly. "He's perfect."

Another voice, deeper and steadier, answered. "Our little Satoru."

Kyle's thoughts slammed together like a car crash. Satoru? Did they just call me—? No. It can't be. There's no way.

But it was.

He felt a hand brush lightly against his cheek, and despite everything, his body instinctively leaned into the warmth. It wasn't a choice—just another reminder that this new body wasn't entirely under his control. He wanted to scream again, this time not from instinct, but from sheer disbelief.

I've been reborn. As a baby. And my name is Satoru? As in... Gojo Satoru?

It took all his willpower not to burst out laughing. Or crying. He wasn't sure which.

The rest of his first day in this new life was a blur of sensations. He was passed from one pair of hands to another, swaddled tightly, and spoken to in soft voices he couldn't fully understand. His new parents, Hiroto and Aoi, seemed thrilled with him, but Kyle—or Satoru, as he was apparently stuck being called—was too busy spiraling internally to pay much attention.

The days that followed weren't much better. Being a baby was, in a word, humiliating. He was helpless, barely able to do anything but cry, eat, and sleep. Everything was blurry, and his limbs were too weak to do anything useful.

He hated it.

Even worse, he quickly realized that he wasn't just born into any family. No, he had been born into the Gojo family. A name that, apparently, carried a lot of weight.

From what he could overhear—when his brain wasn't screaming about hunger or exhaustion—the Gojos were some kind of big-shot clan. People treated them like royalty, bowing their heads and speaking with too much respect. His parents seemed important, too, though he couldn't figure out exactly why.

One thing was certain: they were strong. He could sense it. It wasn't something he could explain, but whenever his parents were near, he felt a kind of... pressure. Like the air was heavier around them.

It was especially obvious during the sparring sessions.

One day, when Satoru was barely six months old, his parents invited some relatives over. They called it a "family gathering," but it felt more like a martial arts tournament. The courtyard outside their mansion—yes, mansion—was filled with people showing off their quirks.

His mother, Aoi, was the first to catch his attention. She created a radiant barrier of golden energy that shimmered like sunlight, blocking a powerful energy blast from one of his cousins. His father, Hiroto, retaliated with a strange movement of his hand, twisting the air itself to redirect the attack harmlessly into the ground.

Satoru watched from his crib, tiny fists gripping the edges of the blanket.

Quirks. This world has quirks. That means... Oh, shit.

He didn't need a map to figure out where he was. The quirks, the fancy clothes, the mention of U.A. High in passing conversations—it all clicked into place.

I've been reborn into My Hero Academia. And not just anywhere, but into one of the most powerful families in this world.

He would have laughed if he could, but his tiny body betrayed him. All he managed was a quiet, gurgling noise.

It wasn't until his second birthday that everything changed again.

By then, Satoru had gotten used to the basics of his new life. He could crawl, babble, and even walk a few steps without falling over. His parents seemed proud of his progress, constantly comparing him to other children in the family.

One night, as he sat alone in the courtyard under the moonlight, he heard it.

[System Activation: Gojo Template Unlocked.]

The voice was calm and mechanical, and for a moment, he thought he might have imagined it. But then, a glowing screen appeared in his mind's eye, its text clear and undeniable.

Gojo Template Initialized.

Abilities: Limitless | Six Eyes

System Level: 1

Satoru froze.

The system... It's real?

[Welcome, Host. You are now connected to the Gojo Template System. Your abilities will grow as you level up through challenges and milestones.]

He sat there in stunned silence, his two-year-old brain struggling to keep up with the sheer absurdity of it all. Not only was he reborn in My Hero Academia, but he had been given Gojo Satoru's powers—and a system to boot.

This isn't just an isekai. This is a goddamn cheat code.

A grin tugged at his tiny lips, and for the first time since his rebirth, he felt something close to excitement.

"This," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "is going to be fun."