I'm four years old.
I mean, my body is four years old. My mind? It's already been through tests, existential crises, and even a divorce — and now here I am, in a tiny body, living a second chance in a world where heroes actually exist.
Revan is my name. Silver hair and vibrant blue eyes. According to my mother, I'm "a rare gem," and according to my father, "a precocious troublemaker." I can't really blame them. Ever since I realized I was in the Boku no Hero universe, I've been preparing like the League of Villains might storm my playroom at any moment.
My parents are American, which further reinforces the idea that I've been thrown into a globalized version of this world. My mom's name is Evelyn Whitmore — elegant, calm, and radiant. She has long silver hair like mine and vivid green eyes. She moves with a graceful softness, like she's always floating. My father, Nathan Whitmore, is practically a retired comic book hero: tall, athletic, with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. When he enters a room, the attention naturally shifts to him, even if he's just asking where the coffee is.
The Whitmore family isn't just rich — they manufacture wealth. Their company, Whitmore Dynamics, operates in a highly profitable sector: developing advanced materials and smart fabrics designed for hero gear. Heat-resistant uniforms, shock-absorbing suits, freeze-proof, electricity-proof... basically made for any hostile environment. They also produce combat support gear, like tech bracers, propulsion boots, and tactical sensors. A true paradise for engineers and aspiring superheroes.
My dad is the CEO, and even though his Quirk is "modest" — he can hover a few meters off the ground — he's a born strategist. He knows where to invest, who to talk to, and most importantly, how to keep the company relevant in a competitive market. My mother works in R&D, using her Quirk — solar energy absorption — as the foundation to create new types of bioenergetic fabrics. She's even tested several prototypes herself.
You can understand why we live in a mansion with a backyard the size of a football field and a private lab out back. I'm not complaining — far from it. But growing up in this environment comes with a certain weight. As someone who's already lived a whole life and now has a new one, I feel like I need to do something meaningful. I can't just be "the Whitmore kid."
Even with all this early worry, my childhood has been peaceful — at least, in the spoiled-child-with-access-to-cutting-edge-tech kind of way. I started a training routine. Nothing intense, of course — my body is still that of a child. But stretches, meditation, and attempts to activate a Quirk are part of my daily life.
Speaking of Quirks… nothing so far. Zero. Not a spark, not a color change, not even suspicious dizziness. I admit I'm a little frustrated, but it's still early. The average manifestation age is four or five, so there's still a chance I'll shine. Literally, if I'm lucky.
The good part is, I have access to books, the internet (with parental controls I made sure to bypass), and an absurd number of high-tech toys. I've even been studying basic engineering for support gear — just in case my Quirk ends up being useless. Better have a Batman-style Plan B, full of gadgets and flair.
Oh, and the backyard… I started using it as my test field. Whenever my parents are busy, I take a solar flashlight and try to imitate my mom, hoping some spark of power will awaken. So far, all I've gotten is a tan.
Today, the day was especially beautiful. Clear sky, not a single cloud — the kind of day my mom loves. The backyard was bathed in golden light, and the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass filled the air. My mother had set up an impromptu picnic on a white cloth, with fruits, juice, and some artisanal bread she baked that morning. My father was lying on the grass, arms folded behind his head, while I ran around laughing like any four-year-old would.
It was rare for us to have time like this — the three of us together, relaxing. No meetings. No lab tests. No thinking about the world outside.
I felt… at peace.
Or at least I did — until something inside me changed.
First came the heat.
Not just any heat, but something internal, brutal, like my bones were burning from the inside out. My chest tightened and I dropped to my knees on the grass. The pain was absurd — like my blood had turned to lava. I began to tremble, gasping.
"Revan ?!" My mother's voice came first, in shock. She rushed over, but stopped halfway, hesitating.
My eyes burned. Literally. I screamed. A high-pitched scream that sliced the air like a blade. Something snapped inside my head and suddenly… the world exploded in sound.
Heartbeats. Distant conversations. Doors closing. Planes in the sky. The gears of a car miles away. Everything. All at once. Every sound invading my mind with no filter.
" NATHAN, HE'S AWAKENING !" my mom shouted, her voice now amplified a thousand times inside my head.
I tried covering my ears, but it was no use. The sound was inside me. Like I was a giant antenna picking up the world.
My body floated — I didn't even notice how. I was a few centimeters off the ground, trembling. The grass beneath me began to burn slowly. My eyes started to glow red. It wasn't just pain. It was like every cell in my body was being reconfigured. I felt alive in a way I didn't know was possible — and at the same time, on the verge of passing out.
And then came the worst part.
My vision darkened… but not completely. It was as if everything around me became silhouettes… and within them, I saw something pulsing, hot. A red heat. People. Objects. Life.
That's when, unintentionally, I fired.
Two beams of heat burst from my eyes with a roar and sliced through the air like incandescent lances. The picnic table turned to ash. Part of the garden wall evaporated. Nearby trees caught fire in seconds. The heat was so intense that the ground melted into a black, smoking line.
I tried to stop. I swear I did. But I couldn't control it. I screamed again, desperate.
"REEEVAAAN !!" My father's voice came strong, and in an instant he was in front of me, holding my shoulders even while floating. His face was pale, but his eyes were steady. "Son, breathe ! Listen to me ! You can do this !"
My mother rushed to us and placed her palm on my forehead, transmitting a calm, warm energy that seemed to slow the chaos inside me. The pain didn't vanish, but it became… manageable. I slowly fell to the ground.
With effort, I controlled my breathing. One, two, three…
Gradually, the beams stopped. My body dropped back to the ground with a dull thud, and everything went silent. Smoke rose around me. The garden was partially destroyed, and my entire body ached as if I had run a thousand marathons in a row.
But amidst the pain, confusion, and fear… something ignited inside me.
I knew exactly what had just happened.
I had awakened my quirk.
Several hours later
We were in a private hospital in the city center. Of course, not just any hospital — one of the best in the country, specializing in Quirk-related emergencies. The kind of place top-tier heroes go for check-ups after battles with dimensional monsters.
I lay in a reinforced bed, wrapped in a thermal containment structure made of special alloys usually reserved for holding dangerous villains. The room was all white, with monitoring panels on the walls and a top-notch medical team outside, coordinating everything in tense silence.
My body temperature was still abnormally high. Sensors read 62 degrees Celsius and slowly rising. Still, I wasn't sweating. My body seemed to have adapted to the internal heat as if it were… normal.
My mother sat beside me, trying to stay calm, but I saw the nervousness hidden in her eyes. My father spoke with two doctors outside, gesturing too much like he always did when worried.
"Revan, sweetheart, are you okay ?" my mom asked softly, running her hand through my hair.
"I… I still hurt," I replied weakly. "But not like before. It's… bearable now."
Just then, a doctor entered. She wore a light-blue uniform with gold insignias on the shoulders. Her badge read: Dr. Meryl Grant, Specialist in Genetics and Rare Quirk Mutations.
"Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore," she said, nodding politely, "We need to run some tests. We've already activated Alpha Priority Protocol. Your son's Quirk is… well, exceptional."
She approached me with a gentle smile and held up a metal tray. On it were various needles — reinforced steel, titanium, and even one made from an experimental compound designed to penetrate shield-like skin.
"Alright, Revan ? This might sting a little, but we're just going to draw a tiny bit of blood, okay ?"
I nodded slightly. I'd been through enough pain today. One more prick didn't seem like much.
The first needle broke the moment it touched my skin — a dry snap, like it hit metal.
"Hmm… okay, let's try this one," she said, picking the titanium one.
Another try. Another snap. The needle cracked in half.
The third was the special one — made to pierce dense keratin and collagen layers of shield-type mutations.
She approached more slowly, eyes narrowed in concentration. Positioned the needle. Pressed firmly.
Crack.
The tip shattered like glass, flying backward and clinking on the floor.
Silence filled the room.
"This is… impossible," the doctor murmured, stepping back. She stared at my untouched skin, smooth as if nothing had happened.
My father entered just then and saw the scene.
"Is there a problem ?"
"We can't pierce Revan's skin," the doctor replied, still stunned. "Not even with our strongest materials. It's like… his body is in a state of active invulnerability."
The silence thickened, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of Dr. Meryl's fingers on her tablet. Then she stopped, staring at the screen like something there defied reason.
"This is… extraordinary. I've never seen a genetic combination like this."
My mother stood from the chair.
"What did you find ?"
"Well… most Quirks follow a relatively predictable genetic pattern. Even in complex cases, there are dominant and recessive traits indicating how powers will manifest in the next generation. But in Revan's case…"
She turned the tablet to show the analysis. Even without understanding the technical data, I could see a 3D image of what looked like a genetic map, with red and blue regions blending into golden points.
"His Quirk is a perfect — and amplified — fusion of both of yours."
"What do you mean ?" my father asked, frowning.
"You have a limited flight Quirk, powered by local antigravity fields. And your wife, a solar metabolic mutation that converts light into life energy. Well… Revan's body integrated both at the cellular level and amplified them."
She took a deep breath before continuing:
"Practically speaking… his body functions like a solar reactor. Light absorption doesn't just fuel his metabolism, it reinforces his physical structure, making him virtually invulnerable. His muscles, bones, even skin have adapted to withstand any form of penetration or damage."
My father's eyes widened.
"That would explain why he couldn't control the heat beams… it's excess energy being expelled."
"Exactly. And the flight, as described, is no longer limited — he sustains and propels himself with pure force, manipulating gravity around his body. The enhanced hearing comes from extreme sensory stimulation via that energy. The heat vision is an ocular extension of internal radiation buildup. All systems work together."
My mother looked at me, eyes glistening.
"He… he has both. But how is that possible ?"
The doctor hesitated.
"To be honest, it shouldn't be. The compatibility rate between such different Quirks is near zero. Normally, he'd inherit a diluted version of one… but here, it's a perfect fusion. As if his genetic code chose not one, but both — and evolved them into something entirely new."
"A new Quirk class ?" my father asked, thoughtful.
"Maybe. Or… something beyond what we classify as Quirks today."
I listened silently. My body still burned, but it wasn't just pain — now, I felt power coursing through my veins. Every cell vibrated with energy I could barely contain.
"So that means…" I began, voice hoarse, "I'm a mix of both ?"
My mother smiled tenderly.
"Yes, my love. You're the best of both of us."
My father nodded.
"And, apparently… much more than that."
Dr. Meryl turned to an assistant and whispered something. Within seconds, a panel in the room slid open, revealing an advanced containment chamber.
"We'll need to conduct tests in a safer environment. Not to control you, Revan," she said firmly, noticing my wary look, "But to help you understand who you are now. And how to handle what's inside you."
"Doctor," my father said, still puzzled, "With all due respect, how did you map his genome… if you couldn't collect a drop of blood ?"
Dr. Meryl smiled subtly, proud of her clever workaround.
"Revan was radiating thermal energy intensely when he arrived. The hospital gown he wore — even designed to withstand high temperatures — was partially compromised, and the fibers absorbed a considerable amount of dead skin cells. Even with accelerated regeneration, natural skin shedding continues… just at a different rate."
She held up a small glass capsule with a silver mesh inside.
"We used nanotech to extract DNA samples from those surface cells. It wasn't easy… but it was enough."
My father exhaled, impressed.
"Dead cells ?"
"Exactly. His body resists punctures, but cellular turnover still happens — even microscopically. In a high-tech containment environment, we isolated sweat particles, skin fragments, and bio traces released with the heat."
My mother smiled in admiration.
"Clever. I didn't even think of that."
The doctor adjusted her glasses.
"We had to think fast. A patient like Revan… well, he's one of a kind. Literally."