The blinding light was the last thing I remembered. One moment, I was facing down a villain, quirk blazing, the next...nothing. Then, a kaleidoscope of colors, a symphony of sounds unlike anything I'd ever experienced, and a crushing wave of pure, unadulterated power.
I gasped, or at least, I think I did. My lungs, or whatever replaced them, felt like they could contain the entirety of the ocean. I opened my eyes.
Gone was the crumbling cityscape of Musutafu. Gone was the smoke and ash that had perpetually clung to the air. In its place was...well, even the most eloquent of poets would be struck speechless. A sky the color of liquid sapphires stretched endlessly above a landscape of rolling hills, dotted with olive groves and shimmering streams. Buildings of gleaming white marble rose in the distance, their columns reaching towards the heavens.
And me? I wasn't Izuku Midoriya anymore.
I looked down at my… new self. Gone were the familiar freckles, the scrawny limbs. My skin was the color of sun-kissed bronze, my body sculpted with an impossible perfection. A toga of shimmering white fell from my shoulders, revealing powerful muscles I didn't know I possessed. And on my feet… winged sandals.
For a moment, the sheer ridiculousness of it all threatened to overwhelm me. Winged sandals? A toga? I felt like I'd stumbled onto the set of some ancient Roman epic, only with far more convincing special effects.
Then, the memory hit me. A flood of information, experiences, and… personality. Not my own. Not entirely, at least. It was like trying to hold quicksilver in my hand – slippery, elusive, but undeniably present.
Hermes. That was my name now. Or rather, my name. Messenger of the Gods, guide of souls, patron of travelers, thieves, and merchants. And… a god.
I, Izuku Midoriya, the hero-obsessed kid from Japan, was now a Greek god.
I stumbled, my newly divine legs not quite cooperating. I had to learn to walk again, to exist in this… amplified reality. Each breath felt like drawing power from the very earth itself.
I found myself on a path paved with smooth, white stones. Following it, I reached a magnificent palace, its entrance guarded by two statues of… well, I wasn't sure. They were humanoid, but with the heads of rams and the bodies covered in swirling symbols that seemed to shift and change as I looked at them.
As I approached, the statues bowed their heads. The weight of their deference was almost unbearable. Had I really become someone worthy of such respect?
Inside, the palace was even more overwhelming. Sunlight streamed through vast windows, illuminating murals depicting scenes of myth and legend. Servants, mortals blessed (or perhaps cursed) with eternal service, moved silently around me, their eyes downcast.
It was all too much, too fast. I, who'd lived for nothing but the chance to prove myself a hero, was now a figure of legend, a being of unimaginable power. But what good was power if I didn't know how to use it?
Days turned into weeks, and I struggled to adapt. The memories of Hermes guided me, but they were fragmented, incomplete. I was a patchwork creation, a fusion of two souls, trying to find my place in a world I barely understood.
I learned about my responsibilities. Guiding the souls of the dead to the Underworld, delivering messages to mortals and gods alike, resolving disputes between warring villages. I was expected to be cunning, quick-witted, and above all, charming.
Charming? Me? It was laughable.
One day, I was summoned to Olympus, the home of the gods. The journey was instantaneous, a flicker of thought and I was standing before the majestic throne of Zeus, King of the Gods.
The sight was breathtaking. A hall of swirling clouds and golden light, with pillars that seemed to pierce the very heavens. The other gods were there, too. Poseidon, with his wrathful eyes and trident in hand. Hera, radiating an aura of regal authority. Athena, her gaze sharp and intelligent.
I felt a surge of… something. Awe? Fear? Recognition? These were the figures of legend, the beings I'd read about in countless books. And now, I was one of them.
Zeus boomed, his voice shaking the very foundations of Olympus. "Hermes. Welcome."
His gaze, though powerful, held a hint of curiosity. He, like the others, sensed the… difference in me.
"You are new in this role. There will be much to learn."
The other gods regarded me with varying degrees of interest and suspicion. Ares, the God of War, sneered. "A messenger boy taking the place of Hermes? Pathetic."
I swallowed, trying to keep my nervousness from showing. I wasn't Izuku Midoriya, the easily flustered fanboy. I was Hermes. I had to act like it.
"With all due respect, Ares," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "I intend to fulfill my duties to the best of my ability."
Ares chuckled, a harsh, unpleasant sound. "We shall see."
The meeting continued, discussing affairs of mortals and gods, alliances and rivalries. I listened intently, trying to absorb as much information as possible. I felt like an outsider, a student in a classroom filled with seasoned veterans.
After the meeting, I found myself standing alone in the gardens of Olympus, overlooking the mortal world. I could see everything, the struggles and triumphs of humanity, the beauty and the ugliness of their lives.
It struck me then. I might be a god, but I wasn't supposed to be detached from humanity. Hermes was their guide, their protector, their connection to the divine.
I had a responsibility, not just to the gods, but to the mortals under my care. And maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to be a hero in this new role.
I started spending more time among mortals, disguised as a traveler or a merchant. I listened to their stories, helped them solve their problems, and offered guidance when needed. I used my divine powers to ease their suffering, to protect them from injustice.
I wasn't All Might, but I could still make a difference.
I met people who were burdened by their fate, struggling to survive with no one watching over them. I guided travelers on their way, delivered messages between those in love, and even helped some thieves escape the authorities (after a bit of moral persuasion, of course).
One day, while mediating a dispute between two farmers over a stolen goat, I met a young woman named Lyra. She was intelligent, compassionate, and possessed a fierce determination to protect her community.
We talked for hours, about everything and nothing. About the struggles of the farmers, the beauty of the land, the importance of justice and compassion. I found myself drawn to her in a way I couldn't explain.
But I was a god, and she was a mortal. Any relationship between us was doomed to end in heartbreak.
I knew I had to stay away from her, but I couldn't. I kept finding excuses to be near her, to talk to her, to listen to her.
One evening, as the sun set over the hills, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Lyra turned to me and said, "You're different, Hermes. I don't know how, but you are."
I looked into her eyes, and I saw a spark of understanding, a hint of recognition. She knew.
"I… I am," I admitted. "I'm not who you think I am."
I told her everything, about Izuku Midoriya, about my reincarnation as Hermes, about my struggles to adapt to my new role.
Lyra listened patiently, her eyes wide with wonder. When I finished, she reached out and took my hand.
"It doesn't matter who you were," she said. "What matters is who you are now. And I see someone who cares, someone who wants to do good. That's all that matters to me."
Her words were a balm to my soul. For the first time since my reincarnation, I felt truly at peace.
I knew our time together was limited. Mortals aged, gods did not. But I was determined to make the most of it.
I would be a god worthy of her love, a god worthy of the mortals under my care. I would be Hermes, the protector, the guide, the messenger of hope.
And maybe, just maybe, I could finally find a way to be the hero I always wanted to be, even in this strange and wondrous new world. The world of the gods.