MHA REINCARNATION!

As the exam came to an end, Izuku and I trudged home, the weight of the day still hanging over us like a heavy blanket. I could sense Izuku's nervous energy; my little brother had always been more sensitive, more prone to worry. The entrance exam for U.A. High had been both exhilarating and exhausting, and we were finally heading home where we could put our feet up and relax.

When we stepped through the door, the familiar scent of my mother Inko's cooking enveloped us like a warm hug. She stood at the stove, stirring something in a large pot, her back to us. The aroma of her special dinner—a blend of spices, tender meat, and something sweet—made my stomach rumble as if it had a voice of its own.

"How was it, you two?" she asked, turning around with a bright smile that seemed to chase away any lingering stress from the day. Her eyes twinkled with maternal warmth.

Izuku looked over at me, his tired but hopeful expression melting slightly under the weight of the day's challenges. "It was tough," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I think I did okay."

"Just okay?" I teased, ruffling his emerald-green hair. "With that Quirk of yours, I'm sure you'll be the star of U.A. High."

His face flushed, and he ducked his head in embarrassment. "Don't get ahead of yourself," he mumbled, his voice barely carrying over the simmering pot. "I still have to get in first."

I chuckled, giving his shoulder a gentle pat. "You've got this, Izuku. Remember, I've seen what you're capable of." I paused, letting my words linger in the air, weighing the significance behind them.

Izuku nodded solemnly, his eyes shimmering with determination. We both understood the gravity of what my encouragement meant, the legacy of our family resting on our shoulders. Our mother, sensing the tension, quickly shifted the topic. "Alright, let's set the table. Dinner will be ready soon."

As we took our seats, the atmosphere lightened. Inko brought dishes to the table, her voice full of pride as she spoke about our father, Hisashi, working late at the local hero agency. "He's helping to train the next generation of heroes," she beamed, her chest puffed out slightly. I admired her dedication; she really did make our home feel like a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the world outside.

Izuku listened intently, his eyes wide with admiration. I could see him absorbing every word, the idea of becoming a hero igniting a fire in him. I couldn't blame him—the legacy of being a hero was something both of us were taught to cherish.

Our conversation turned to the topic of Quirks, naturally, as it always did in our family. Izuku, ever curious, could hardly contain himself. "How did you find out you had yours?" he asked, leaning forward, his interest piqued.

I smiled, recalling the memory with clarity. "I think I was about your age, maybe a little older. We were at the park, just playing like we always did. That day, I was trying to reach the basketball hoop, but I just… couldn't. Then, for some reason, this surge of energy like lightning shot through me, and next thing I knew, I was flying."

Izuku's eyes widened in astonishment. "You could fly?"

"Only for a few moments, but it was enough to convince me that something had changed. I landed a little too hard, though—crashed right into a playground slide." I laughed at the memory. "Mom wasn't too pleased, and I learned quickly that with great power comes great responsibility."

Inko chuckled, shaking her head in mock disapproval. "That slide wasn't the worst of it. You were always finding trouble."

Izuku's face was lit up with an excitement I hadn't seen in a while. "I can't wait to discover what mine can do! All my life, I've wanted to be a hero. To just—"

"To just save people," I finished, my tone softening. I knew what it felt like. The longing to be something greater than oneself was a burden we both carried, one that connected us in ways that words could not express.

Dinner flowed smoothly after that, laughter echoing off the walls as we shared stories of our day. My mother's cooking was unmatched, each bite like a comforting reminder of home. And as I looked over at Izuku, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Tomorrow, he would become a step closer to his dream. And regardless of the outcome, he would always be my little brother, my partner in this grand adventure called life.

"Izuku," I said, raising my glass. "To new beginnings."

"To new beginnings," he echoed, smiling brightly.

We clinked our glasses together, looking forward to whatever the future would hold—together.