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When I was born the second time, I only knew two things—one, that I had a first life, with friends and love and death, even though all the faces and names were gone. The experiences weren't. The emotions weren't.

Two, there was a story imprinted on my brain. The story of the number one hero of an older generation. Deku.

And with that, my last solid memory.

When I was pulled into the light, a screaming, crabbing baby, the last vestiges of that memory seared into my mind.

There was a villain, and useless me, who had a useless quirk that made me double over in pain, and he threw himself in front of me—

Deku died. Too strong, too good, too young. And he died because of me.

It wasn't supposed to happen. My genes screamed at me. No, no, no! He was supposed to live! You weren't supposed to be there!

Stop messing with time!

But it was too late. My presence had killed Deku. But why was I here now, breathing, crying, cooing in a new mother's arms, while he had bled out on top of me moments before?

My quirk breathed, gave one last burst of light, then settled back down, deep inside. Dormant.

If you've ever thought that you might like to go back and try being an infant again, I don't recommend it. You're blind, more or less. Your limbs are too heavy. You have no bladder control. That should be enough to turn you off of the idea.

Not to mention, even if you're actually an adult in a baby's body, your mental capacity is closer to the baby's. Your brain can only hold what's physically possible, so goodbye any idea that you could try and start out special. Genius baby? Forget it.

So my parents thought I was a normal baby because I was. The memories were broken fragments fraying away to all the new information. Put away, asleep, for another day.

If anything, I was worse off.

"Ne," my papa said. "She's a little overweight, isn't she?"

My mama frowned. "You think? She's just so hungry."

"Stop feeding her, and she'll be less hungry."

When that didn't work, my mama took me to the doctor again.

"She's just hearty." He brushed us off.

So there I was, a non-genius baby with the appetite of a kid.

My mama sighed, hefting me onto her hip. "What are we going to do with you, Hotaru-chan?"

As it turned out, she just raised me like any other child, because a baby being overweight wasn't really that big of a deal unless you made it one.

It was when I started talking that the memories became tangible, followable visions. I could see it again, the great hero falling, bleeding, dying. I started having nightmares. Then I got used to it and they went away, bleeding off into a warm, golden glow in the back of my mind's eye.

Fuck object permanence.

"Hotaru, why are you so fussy?" Papa rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm getting too old for this." I wondered why he bothered to have kids if he was too old to deal with them, and then it came out of my mouth.

He frowned. "Hotaru-chan, that's mean."

Fuck not having a filter.

"Daddy." I tugged on his shirt tails from behind his desk, which was strewn with papers. "What's your quirk?"

"Hmm?" He looked over his glasses, setting a paper down so he could scoop me up. "I don't have a quirk." He set me on his lap.

I cocked my head. "You don't?"

He shook his head. "Twenty percent of people don't."

I thought about it, really hard, then blanched. When I was born the first time, everyone had a quirk unless it was stolen—and that wasn't an exaggeration, it was the commonly known statistics.

Which led me to believe I was in a time before the quirkless were bred out.

"Do I have a quirk?"

He hummed. "Well, let's see. Most quirks don't awaken until about five or six, and you're only four, so it's possible. Mommy can see through walls—wouldn't that be cool?"

"So cool!" I nodded. "Are you sad you don't have a quirk, Daddy?"

He took his glasses off, rubbing the line on his nose. "Sometimes. When I was your age, I wanted to become a hero. But sometimes life works out differently than we hope. It's not always a bad thing." He grinned down at me, poking my stomach. "If I had been a hero, I wouldn't have met your mommy at a work conference."

"Woah," I said.

"What about you, Hotaru-chan? Do you want to be a hero?"

I tapped my chin in thought. "Hmm. No. Sounds dangerous."

I just got a second chance at life and I wasn't about to mess it up.

The next year, I started school. I was excited until I remembered that it meant freedom would be over for the next decade and a half, but I was also bored out of my mind. It wasn't like I could get out of it, anyway. Besides, I needed some hobbies.

Mom walked me to the gates on the first day, taking a picture outside by the school's sign. I grinned wide, showing off my missing front tooth. I didn't believe in the tooth fairy, but I would let Mom have a little fun playing the parent. Wouldn't want her to miss out—I was her first and only.

She had dressed me to the nines with a white shirt, yellow skirt, and matching bows in my hair. Yellow because it matched my eyes, and white because it didn't clash with my royal blue hair.

"Could my son join the picture?"

Mom and I both looked over to see a tall and muscular woman on the sidewalk. She nudged the boy at her legs forward. He looked just like her, a little on the girly side.

"Katsuki, can you please ask the nice girl to take a photo with you by the sign?"

Mom smiled, raising her camera. "Of course. This will be fun to look at when you're older." She waved him into frame. His mom had to push him closer. When I looked, I caught sight of a shy face. Ash blond with pointy red eyes.

My knees knocked inward, and the back of my skirt suddenly needed my hands to hold it down. "I'm Hotaru," I said. He mumbled, to which I blinked. "What? Say that again?"

"Bakugou," he barked from the corner of his mouth, turning away just as the camera flashed. I blinked at my mom, bleary eyed. That one would definitely be a candid. By the time I had recovered enough to wipe the stupid look off my face, the boy was already back to his mom's side.

The blonde woman smiled at me. "Thanks for that. I wanted a picture, but I don't think I'd get one of him alone."

"No problem." My mom smirked. "I'll send a copy home through the kids when I get these developed."

There were others in line to take their picture by the entrance, so Mom scooted me inside the yard. "Your lunch is in your backpack," she said.

But I was a little distracted. "That was a weird name."

She shrugged. "A little. Ryuuzaki is a weird name, too."

"Bakugou," I hummed as she fixed my jacket collar. "Is that like a book character or something?"

"Since when do you read?" she huffed. "Stop slouching."

There was a mock entrance ceremony for us kids, mostly so we could feel like big kids for starting school, but also so we would know what to expect come later years. Most of us had too much energy to sit still, but our parents sat with us so it was less of a problem.

With the boring stuff out of the way, my mom and dad hugged me and let me head to the classroom.

When I found my room, seats were already assigned and distributed. I was in the front row, which I immediately despised. Mom must have told my sensei that I had the attention span of a pea. Or it was a coincidence—someone had to be in the front. No one was actually seated this long before the bell. You would have thought they hyped these kids on candy, they were bouncing off the walls that much.

I realized then that I didn't know anyone yet, while others clearly had neighborhood kids they were friends with. Didn't expect cliques to form that fast.

Then the blond boy walked in, silent, mouth puckered. I waved. He pointedly looked away, his formerly shy face now twisted in a glare. I dropped back into my seat.

Behind him were other boys—one with his quirk already awakened, since he had a pair of wings on his back. Hard for those to pop up randomly at age five. They followed the boy like groupies.

"Kacchan—wait up!" A freckled kid popped in through the door after them. "We're in the same class. Isn't that great?"

Instead of ignoring him like he ignored me, the blond boy scowled. "Don't talk to me, loser."

I balked at the rudeness, then stood up determinedly at my desk. "Oi—Bakugou—who do you think you are?"

By now other kids were watching, falling quiet. I stood my ground and he stalked closer, red eyes on me now.

"Sit down, Chubby."

And just like that, my nerves of steel snapped. I shot back down, face red. The class laughed. I blushed even harder, hiding my face with my hair.

The teacher walked in.

We started with introductions—which included quirks, if you had them. There were a few in the class with anamorphic quirks, like the winged kid, that didn't really need pointing out. But they bragged anyway.

I tried not to roll my eyes when Bakugou went. But it was hard not to marvel when he shot mini fireworks from his hands, popping in sparks.

"That's amazing, Bakugou!" Sensei praised. "A quirk at your age? And such a cool one."

He beamed.

The meek kid beside him gushed. "You're so awesome, Kacchan!"

When it came around to my turn, the class hadn't died down yet about his explosion quirk. "I'm Ryuuzaki Hotaru. I don't have a quirk yet—"

"—I thought your quirk was being chubby?" A boy with pointy eyes snickered.

My face went hot. "No—" The class laughed over me.

"It's storing food as fat?" A girl said it. I felt betrayed.

Sensei frowned disapprovingly. "Now, none of that. We're nice to each other in this classroom."

I saw in their faces that the teacher was just making things worse. Suddenly my feet were interesting. Then I noticed that they were big feet, too, and I looked away to the floor.

I was an adult in a child's body, and I was getting bullied on the first day of school.

Then the green haired boy went. "I'm Midoriya Izuku—I don't have a quirk yet, either. I love All Might! I want to be a hero just like him!" He made a fist.

"No one asked, Deku."

Oh.

My stomach popped—by that I mean, it felt like I had been punched. I doubled over in pain, then face planted, hard.

I woke up in the nurses' office, my parents beside me smiling.

"Congratulations, Hotaru!" they cheered. "Your quirk awakened!"

I sat up tenderly and cocked my head. "You mean the stomach pain?"

Mom clapped her hands. "Yes! We're not sure what it means yet, but you tested positive for mutated cells—Isn't it wonderful?"

"It is." My dad was crying. "It's so wonderful, Hotaru. I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks," I said. I felt my stomach. It looked fine now, felt fine, felt hungry fine. So what was my quirk supposed to be?

Gold flashed inside my head, then I saw Hero Deku. My face fell.

I knew when I was now. Deku was a kid, before he became the number one hero. Before he died for me.

Even though I didn't know what it was, my quirk squirmed inside of me, whispering to me.

I couldn't fully hear it yet.

As school went on and I had stomach aches with no explanation or cure, albeit not as bad as the first time, I had to sit out of a lot of activities. Which meant I was left out of the groups and friendships. The rumor was that I had indigestion, not a quirk.

My classmates were brutal with no social filters. My nickname 'Chubby' was used more than my actual name.

And then the pranks started. It was putting gum under my desk first, then slathering peanut butter on my chair. Next was drawing pigs on my things with sharpies. Sensei saw and warned them to stop, but then the drawings moved to the things inside my desk. I didn't tell my parents. What could they do?

So I beared it, because I was an adult and I definitely wasn't letting stupid kids get to me. My grades were the best in the class—some of the easy stuff was coming back to me. But it just made the other kids even more annoyed at me.

"Maybe you should spend less time studying and more time running."

And then strange things started happening. I was walking down the hallway when I once again had to double over in pain. Then two seconds later, a soccer ball popped out of the classroom, smacking into the wall in front of me. I stared, dazedly, as the ache suddenly stopped.

I looked down at my stomach.

Bakugou stuck his head out of the classroom door. "Oi, Chubby, give that ball back!"

I blanched—an explosive boosted kick from Bakugou would've probably knocked me out cold.

"You shouldn't be playing inside the classroom, Kacchan." Midoriya fidgeted. "You'll get into trouble."

"Shut up, Deku."

A few weeks later, I was at my desk when the cramping started. Nothing to do but wait it out.

Then a pencil bounced off the back of my head—and as soon as it did, the pain stopped again.

Could I have a danger warning quirk? It seemed like every time something bad was about to happen to me, my stomach would hurt. And if the ball incident was any indication, I could even prevent them.

The next time I felt the pain in class, I ducked. A paper wad bounced off the front of my desk and rolled to the front of the classroom. I turned, smirking at the stunned look on Tsubasa's face.

Take that, wing-boy.

After that, it was just practice getting the timing down. Pencils and spit wads could no longer hit me.

I told my parents.

"Hm, a premonition quirk, huh?" Dad hummed. "That could be very useful."

"It will help keep you safe," Mom said. "How lucky."

My classmates caught on soon enough, so I bit the bullet and told them about my quirk.

"Eh," they said. "Not as good as Bakugou's."

"You can't be a hero with that quirk."

The novelty of quirks had worn off over the last year, since most of the class's quirks were awakening just about every week.

Except for Midoriya.

"That's so cool, Ryuuzaki-chan. I wonder what my quirk will be?"

I couldn't tell him—that he was quirkless—even if it wasn't forever. Midoriya, who was the only one who was ever really nice to me. Who had saved me in a different life. He deserved so much better than Bakugou as a friend.

But as the years went on, and his quirk didn't awaken, I was in no position to protect him. In fact, when I tried, I just ended up making things worse.

Elementary came and went, and as much as it sucked, I managed through the bullying. If it hadn't been for Bakugou, I would've been much less scathed. As soon as the kids saw it was cool to pick on me and call me names, it became the status quo. But it helped some when he wasn't in my class. Tsubasa especially, for some reason, picked on me the worst, though.

My quirk protected me, kept me safe from their pranks. Just not from their words.

Sticks and stones, Hotaru.

And poor, quirkless Midoriya experienced a lot of it too.

"Thanks, Hotaru-chan." Midoriya wiped chalk dust off his clothes while I tapped it out of my hair.

"I'm sorry. They chalked you because I said something." I looked at the floor. "I'll leave you alone from now on."

He looked at me sadly.

But middle school? New school, new me. I was determined not to let my old life follow me there. I had picked the school with the least amount of kids from my elementary on purpose. It was going to be perfect. I liked the concept of uniforms because it took the effort of matching off of my shoulders. Yellow eyes and blue hair limited my wardrobe some.

I marched into my new classroom—1A, because of my grades. I was determined to finally make a real friend.

And then as soon as I stepped into the new room, my stomach hurt.

"Oi, what are you doing here, Chubby?"

"Don't call her that, Kacchan!"

I wanted to do a new take on an OC-insert; she's not actually from our world where MHA is an anima/manga. She's in-world. She doesn't know what the audience knows about the plot and what not, so while she knows that Midoriya will get a quirk eventually, she doesn't know how or why.

It's her quirk that reincarnated her into the past. Maybe that makes it a broken quirk, but I hope it's alright because all her ability levels reset. Anyway, her quirk is themed around buddhist karma, as you'll see, hence the reincarnation.

Let me know what you think!

Thanks.