Chapter Text
Death has always been presented as something terrible. However, it brings relief, because you no longer suffer and don't feel the pain that you had before.
I wouldn't like to complain about my life, but I guess I was still glad to die. Although, I had a good childhood. My family and I traveled a lot, but my father rarely joined us. My mom, grandma, and I saw half the world before I was ten. I always liked to learn new things, so I took full advantage of the situation, taking my mother to various museums and art galleries. I got everything I wanted. In simple words, I was spoiled very quickly. And then, like everyone else, in adolescence, life became full of suffering.
At the age of twelve, I was angry at my parents, who were too strict with me, angry at my father for behaving aggressively and inadequately, because of which I lost their trust. Just like they lost mine. The fact is that they are careerists with a difficult past, who grew up at a time when they had to stand in queues for many hours, which they constantly reminded me of. Therefore, in their expectations, I had to become just as successful, finish school perfectly, enroll in the best university in the country and earn a lot. Whereas I wanted to live a simple life.
After a couple of years, I realized that my parents couldn't live my life for me, and decided to enroll in the linguistic faculty, following my dream, as I really liked to study various languages. Then my life turned into a continuous routine. In the morning, breakfast, studying with a boring teacher, homework, additional biology classes, and finally - sleep. Everything repeated every day, except on weekends. Then I studied only half of the day, the other half devoted to drawing and singing.
And when it was time to start working, I moved to Ireland, as Irish was the third language I knew. I managed to get a job as a teacher, but for some reason sadness did not want to leave me. Whether it was homesickness, or for acquaintances, of whom I had few, it was unclear. However, it still existed. And my life has become absolutely monotonous and boring, full of pain from loneliness.
Therefore, when death came, I accepted it calmly, hoping that hell still does not exist, and if it does, then I will end up in paradise. But when I opened my eyes, I was met not by the light at the end of the tunnel and not by the flames from hell, but by the most ordinary ceiling.
At first I thought it was some kind of mistake, but after blinking a couple of times and rubbing my eyes, for authenticity, I was convinced that it really was the ceiling, and there was a wall next to me.
My whole body ached and, looking down, I realized why, immediately screaming. My body was lying in the bathroom full of blood, and on my shaking hands, there were cuts that were tightening before my eyes, leaving visible scars. I tried to get up, but I only succeeded on the third attempt. The whole body was shaky, it was cold and the clothes stuck unpleasantly to the body, reminding with their color what had just happened. I immediately threw my clothes to the floor, remaining in my underwear.
Casting another glance at the tub, I saw the plug that closed the drain and quickly pulled it out, trying not to cry. It hurt. There was a lump in my throat, which made it difficult to breathe. I put my hands on my knees, crouching down, trying to even out my breathing. After some time it became easier, and the bathroom was empty, still leaving behind an unpleasant shade of red.
The second time I screamed when I looked in the mirror. It wasn't my body. I looked like I was about eighteen years old, but there was no way to tell for sure. In the reflection, my face was covered in bloody traces, most likely because I rubbed my eyes with my palms. I immediately hurried to wash it all off, not paying attention to the fact that water which was flowing from the tap was cold like ice. After cleaning my face, I took another look in the mirror. Light purple hair, barely longer than my shoulders, stuck to the back and neck. The eyes were a darker shade of purple, but about the same as the hair. There are huge bags under the eyes that stand out the most. Apparently, the former owner of the body didn't take very good care of it.
It was getting colder, and I decided to look for some dry clothes, hoping that there was no one on the other side of the door. There were red footprints trailing behind me on the floor, which should be wiped off later when everything clears up. The door from the bathroom led to one large room, and a round table appeared right in front of me, and behind it a small area allocated for the kitchen. Behind the arch was a hall with a sofa and a TV. There were boxes in the corner. One of them had "summer" written on it, and I opened it without thinking twice.
"Great." I said, pulling out the first T-shirt and, I think, home shorts. It became a little easier, but I understood that I was still covered in blood from head to toe, so I would have to wash my clothes.
There were three doors in the apartment in total. One to the bathroom, the other, as I understood it, was an entrance, and the last one was supposed to be the bedroom door. So, carefully pushing the door open, I went into the room, sighing with relief, glad that no one was there.
But as soon as I relaxed, I heard crying, immediately turning my head in the direction of the sound.
'Come on...' I stared at the crib in fear.
I can't have a child! It's... God, I don't even want to think about it right now.
Taking small steps, I approached the crib, carefully looking inside. A child was twirling in it, already not crying, having found a toy for chewing. I was in complete shock. Let's analyze what I just realized.
I got out of the tub full of blood, which means the owner of this body killed herself, obviously not surviving, because then I wouldn't be here. She had a small apartment, with a minimum of things and unpacked clothes. So either she has recently moved or she is poor. But I'm leaning towards the second option, because even the furniture that was here looked old and shabby. And also a child. Damn it, baby! This idiot killed herself when she had a child in the apartment. He could have died!
While I was thinking, deep in thoughts, the child began to cry again. My hands were still wet, and I was dirty, so the best solution was to wrap him in a blanket, on which my little copy was lying.
"Hi, baby," I said softly, trying to rock him. "You're so small…"
The little one really looked awfully like me. The same color of hair and eyes, so either he's my current son or brother, considering that I'm kind of young.
After a couple of minutes of my mumbling and asking for him to sleep, the baby finally fell asleep, which I was insanely glad about. Putting him back in the crib, I quickly started searching for any documents, or at least a phone to find out my own name. I didn't have to search for long, and finally found the cherished box under the bed, with everything I needed. First of all, I took out my passport, immediately speechless.
I'm in Japan… I am in Japan and I am japanese. "JAPAN" was written on the passport in large letters. I don't know if I was lucky or not, but in my previous life I learned Japanese, as I was a big fan of anime. So, I understood almost everything written here. At least a proper name for sure.
My name is Akira Shinso. If I can believe the passport, of course. After looking at the calendar, I compared the year of birth and the current one, and after doing a little mathematical calculations, I realized that I had recently turned eighteen, since the fifteenth of June had already passed. To be honest, I wasn't particularly interested in anything else, except that my own last name was desperately trying to remind me of something, but I couldn't figure out what. Sometimes I can be stupid in summer.
After the information about myself, my sight fell on the folder, which I immediately opened, finding various pieces of paper there. The first was a graduation diploma, with honors. So I'm a nerd in this universe, okay. This explains the bags under the eyes. Although, this can be attributed to the child, who was now sleeping peacefully a couple of steps away from me. Turning the page, I found my birth certificate, but unfortunately, the names of the parents were crossed out with a marker, and I could not identify their names. Eh, but everything could have been much simpler! The next was Hitoshi Shinso's birth certificate, received a little less than a year ago. And under the mother's name was... Akira Shinso. Great, he's my son after all.
Father's name wasn't signed, so maybe he left me. I didn't want to assume that I was raped. But if that was the case, I need more evidence.
However, a sudden realization immediately shot through my head. It's Hitoshi! The same Hitoshi Shinsou, from the manga! I do not know any other purple-haired Shinso. Hands frantically began to dig into the documents, taking out, it seems, something like an identity card.
"Name: Shinso Akira.
Quirk: Memory reading.
Date of birth: ..."
I didn't read any further, being in shock from understanding where I am. I'm in anime. It's hard to believe, but it's impossible to deny it. Besides, I also have a quirk. Of course, I didn't feel it at all, but maybe this is not that type of quirk? Memory reading. It doesn't sound very good.
Ten minutes later, a child's crying rang out all over the room again, distracting me from looking at useless things that were also in the box. There were photos of me, photos of Hitoshi and some kind of children's toy. But now it's not important.
"What am I going to do with you?" I asked myself, realizing that this time it wouldn't be possible to put him to sleep so easily. The diaper didn't smell, so he probably wants to eat. "I hope your mom wasn't completely stupid."
By these words, I meant that she had to buy a bottle and formula. Somehow Hitoshi survived for almost a year.
Holding the baby with one hand, I opened the shelves in the kitchen. There were not so many dishes. Baby formula with a bottle and a kettle was found very quickly. Pouring water into the kettle, I put it to boil on an electric stove.
Shinsou in my hands didn't shut up, shouting for the whole apartment. Now I understand why Akira... why I have such bags under my eyes.
Steam poured out of the kettle, and I immediately turned off the stove, pouring water into a bottle. Closing it with one hand was still a challenge, so after a little thought, I laid the little one on the sofa, hoping that he would not roll down from there.
The mixture turned out to be hot, so I also had to wait for the water to cool down. While I was waiting, I managed to get hungry myself, but there was nothing in the refrigerator, so I had to endure.
The child shut up immediately when he got food. I breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back wearily on the sofa. I just found myself in this world, and already have such problems.
However, looking once again at Hitoshi, who was eating so nicely, I just wanted to smile.
"A little bundle of joy," I whispered, smoothing his hair. And yet he's such a cutie. "Now you're my son…"
The kid pushed the bottle away, looked at me and said something in his own, childish language.
I had to accept reality quickly. A new life. Of course, I didn't expect this, but you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Yes, life is clearly not going to be easy. This was confirmed by Hitoshi, who suddenly wanted to turn around in my arms.
"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to lie down for little longer," I said, carrying him back to the crib.
Carefully wrapping him in a blanket so that he wouldn't knock on the crib, I left the bedroom door open so that if anything happens I could hear crying.
There was no more time for tears and suffering. I am now responsible for little ones life, so I will have to work hard. And I'll probably start with the horror that was in the bathroom right now.
When I opened the door, my breath was taken away, but I pulled myself together and began to look for some rag. It was found behind the toilet, along with cleaning products. Hah, how convenient…
As I began to scrub the tub, I thought about it, and took off my clothes not to dirty it even more. Although, I don't think I'll wear it after this. Maybe I'll throw it away so it doesn't bring back unpleasant memories. I was glad that the bath itself was a typical Japanese one. They usually sit in these, not stand. In addition, many people know that the Japanese have some of the most comfortable baths. So this one included a shower, a water heating system, and even represented one whole piece together with shelves for all sorts of tools.
After a couple of hours, I finally finished washing the bathroom, barely standing straight. My back and knees hurt like hell from the position I was in, leaving some bruises on the skin. Then I washed the footprints that I had left all over the apartment. The last thing on the list was the clothes that I threw into the washing machine, hoping that the blood would wash off. After that, I could let myself shower, of course with the door open. Just in case if something happens to Hitoshi.
Under the flow of hot water, I allowed myself to slide down the wall and burst into tears. There were too many impressions for today. And even so, thanks to the one who gave me a second chance. Thanks to the one who sent me to this body, because otherwise Hitoshi could die. From the original story, his life was already unpleasant. I didn't want him to be gone at all!
After a quick wash, I dressed in a new set of clothes, and returned to the bedroom. The little one fell asleep again, and I decided to follow his example by falling on the bed.
"Everything's going to be fine." I muttered.
Sleep came as soon as my head touched the pillow.