Disclaimer: I do not own My Hero Academia. The world and characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi.
Only the OCs and the events taking place in their lives are in my possession.
It was a sunny evening in Minneapolis, and the vibrant rays of that golden light pierced through into a room from the gaps in the blue curtains; illuminating what could be seen as a desk, a stack of small books, and a couple of unopened packs of gum.
This was a bedroom, and the double bed was lighted up too with the lines of sunlight that stretched and climbed the walls in a grid.
A boy who had a head of vibrant blonde sat with his belly on his mattress, focussed on a screen that was in front of his face.
He was watching something on the laptop, a show that he had found online which was reflected off his big round glasses.
"This animation is... not that great." He said with a mix of disappointment and amusement.
"And huh, and I thought I would never ever miss that place so much," He grumbled as he closed the laptop, "And this plague..."
Pushing himself off of his belly he fell onto his back and laid for a moment looking at the ceiling, seemingly to reflect.
Removing his glasses and setting them off to the end table beside him as he rubbed his eyes.
"... Wasn't that show an odd one...?"
That show was weird,
A man had reincarnated into an awfully generic isekai fantasy set in a pseudo-medieval world where he got himself a harem, a mansion, and a couple of sweet powers before he got to fight the big bad villian at the end of the story.
But Alan never got to that point and had stopped watching just now about midway through the series.
The initial charm had worn out, and he was just not interested enough to continue anymore.
"Alan!" A voice called from the living room, muffled a bit by the walls.
His arms halted in their movement and he seemed to hesitate to get up, unsure if he had been called.
"Alan, come down, quick!"
He rocked himself up and sat on the side of his bed as he grabbed his glasses.
Hurrying to his feet, Alan almost tumbled to the door before he caught himself and jogged down across the hallway and to the stairs into the living room.
He saw his father, dusting off the dirt from the old biker jacket as he shuffled to the front door.
"What happened?" the boy asked confusingly.
"Uncle Joey had a baby and he told me to come with him," his father stated with a little snort, "Also said he needed to be hugged because his feet won't stop shaking."
Alan looked of to the side for a moment and frowned,
"Uncle Joey? Who is that?"
"You know, he's like a brother, I suppose... You're not related." the man quickly dismissed as he caught his son giving him a bewildering look.
Alan's curiosity was not sated by his simple explanation.
"I'm sorry this is so abrupt, but I need you to hold down the house until I get back."
"You're taking your old bike?"
"Ah, don't worry about the old thing, I took the carburettor out and cleaned it yesterday."
Alan's father zipped himself up and padded himself about to make sure the now tight jacket still fitted him.
"I see..." Alan nodded, "but did you check the brakes?"
The man snorted lightly through his nose in confidence as he walked to the door, but stopped suddenly and stood in silence.
"You forgot."
"Ah, those breaks are fine," his father defended, "Old discs have the refinement of a paving stone, I'll die before I need to replace one of those!"
"But, don't they suck at stopping...?" Alan insisted with a slightly raised voice in pitch, "That day may come sooner than you-"
"Up-pup-pah! Don't be so grave when I've already made you dinner." His father wagged a finger before he pointed toward the kitchen behind the boy, "You see that pot? Yeah, chicken soup!"
Alan turned to see that the kitchen was left in a mess, and a single pot of what he made out to be chicken soup was left on the stove still running.
"You will need to watch that for about two more minutes, then after that, you're free to call Emily and Eric to dinner." Alan bolted his head back around to see that his father was already outside the door,
"Oh, don't forget about the dogs!"
"Wait- dad-!" And the door slammed shut, leaving Alan with one finger pointing as he stood quiet.
Biting his lips in annoyance he breathed out a long sigh,
"Be careful out there..." Alan grumbled before he turned on his heel and marched over to the kitchen.
Standing by the kitchen's open door, the stove was to his right, and the isle was built around to face out towards the garden through the kitchen's window.
The apron's rack was just to his right, Alan took the green one and made his way over to the stove; removing his round spectacles, he placed them on an idle napkin on the isle.
Being as mild-mannered as he was, Alan was accustomed to housework. Though he was the middle child, he was the most competent when it turned to take care of his siblings; being able to cook and clean was very convenient.
A brief flash from the corner of his vision caught his attention for a moment, and he turned to the backyard from the kitchen window.
'Was that lightning just now...?' Alan wondered as he tied a knot behind his back with the apron's harness.
But that was unlikely, the weather had been clear and sunny just a moment earlier, and the forecast today said nothing about a lightning storm.
Shaking his head as he dismissed the thought, Alan took a stirring spoon from near the stove and began to gently stir the pot.
This chicken soup looked very nice, and a lot of its contents were vegetables like spinach surprisingly. He assumed they were there to absorb any excess fat.
Humming a pleasant tune, he danced with his feet while he ever so slightly adjusted the flame under the pot.
A minute passed and he was having a pleasant time now.
But then there, look, another flash, and Alan was sure it came from the garden.
"What is that...?" this time he gave an accommodating pause and peered out through the kitchen window to see that a very dark and imposing cloud was approaching from the distance.
Turning off the stove, he walked to the kitchen door to the backyard, forgetting to remove his green apron he walked out to the backyard and immediately noticed that the wind had picked up.
Blowing upwards from under him, he suddenly had to hold down his apron from hitting his face when he stepped out.
This also immediately grew his concern.
Wildly turning to observe his surroundings, he heard the sound of tin sheets creaking and banging as they collided with each other while rocking up and down.
"There was no storm on the weather forecast," he said to himself, and scrutinised the approaching thundering cloud more intently, "So... what could that-!"
There was a bright light, and every bodily sensation after that faded except for his sight which saw an approximation of white noise followed by bright pink.
And was gone.
The boy looked around, his surroundings had completely shifted.
Suddenly he was not under a stormy suburban sky.
He was still in the backyard but the scene had changed, namely the weather.
The storm was a year away as far as the clouds told that story, it was bright. And the clouds looked particularly beautiful; they were practically glowing.
An effect of the unusual lighting, no doubt.
Turning to his body, he was still wearing his clothes thank god, and even the green apron from the kitchen remained firmly taught.
"..." Then the boy's eyes grew wide in his confusion, and Alan made to speak a word though he was unable to find such words to fit his current bizarre situation.
'Alan...' Somebody called him, he answered quite slowly and turns around to meet with an odd sight.
"What was that?" he unsurely asked when he looked back to see that the backyard door to their house was wide open, and into the room was a tall hall lined with plain white concrete.
"What is-... I am... What?" he squinted and did make sure that he saw it clearly. Looking back at the sky, he thought to himself something was seriously wrong with it.
Curious and confused, he began to march forward at a steady pace.
"Hello? Did someone call me...? I heard a name... my name..." called further, but no reply came. Alan slowly paced to the backyard porch.
As nothing called back to answer him, he was left in silence only drowned out by the light breeze.
Standing just shy of the doorway, he hesitated for a few moments as he looked back one last time to the sky and wondered,
'What happened just now?'
With a gulp and his desire for answers taking charge, he entered through the open doorway.
There he found the hall empty and white, and this was its appearance.
The hall appeared thoroughly clean and awfully well-kept; the spotless tall walls were white, as did the polished concrete floors that were also white.
Three doorways lined the far wall. Two of them were elevators while the last one farthest was the stairway, accompanied by a sign written 'Stairway'.
Three columns extended to the ceiling lining the middle of the hall, and as you entered the door you would see a plaque in pure black, possibly made from slate or granite which held some sort of list written in a yellow accent.
Alan had no words as he stood in the doorway for a few seconds.
Apprehensive at first, he stepped in finally and made his way over to the black plaque erected on the wall which seemed to show a manifest of the building's directory.
Though amusingly, even though entries were divided into 'Personel', 'Accounting', 'Creative' and 'Destructive' the manifest all pointed to room no. 7.
"What is this?" Alan muttered to himself, this whole arrangement seemed a parody of corporate practice. And he was still too bewildered to laugh at a joke right now.
"You're looking for room 7." A deep voice cut through the hall suddenly which made Alan jump in place.
Briefly flailing his arms up, he leaned on the wall as he turned.
Alan saw what appeared to be an African-American man in his 50s dressed in a janitor's attire of some sort topped off with a blue coloured baseball cap. Accompanying him was one bucket with what appeared to be a duster hosted inside.
Busy mopping the floor, the boy swore the man had not been there when he entered the building.
Standing quite still, Alan slowly turned to the directory to his right, revised it, and slowly looked back.
"Yeah, I... figured." the boy said as he cleared his throat.
One more time, he looked to the windows that seemed to shine an omnipresent white light. Alan breathed out slow to assess his situation.
Here he was in a truly strange place, coming from a door that lead to his backyard that was supposed to lead into his house. Any amount of information, no matter how little it may be, was crucial to alleviate the distress that paced up his heartbeat, which in turn made his breath shallow.
Also worth mentioning was the headache, like a piece of glass scraping in his head.
So marching over to the only person he could see, he wanted to ask a question.
"Um, Sir?" the boy asked, hesitant at first.
Grunting, he halted his work and straightened his back.
"What is it, son?" The old man turned up and rested both his hands on the butt of the white plastic pole.
"Where is this place?" it wasn't natural, Alan was sure of that. This hall exuded an aura of an otherworldly nature, as if he wasn't on earth anymore but somewhere... well, brighter.
The old man paused for a moment, then fastening his cap he gave a giggle.
"Oh, you see... well, I'm actually not quite sure myself." giving the boy a toothy smile, the air around them became increasingly awkward as the silence between them progressed.
Looking quite bewildered, Alan turned around for a moment with his mouth hung open, then looked back to the old man.
"How do I get to room 7?"
"I'll be on the 7th floor. Stairs right over there," taking his mob, the janitor quickly went back to work.
"Oh, I think I'll take the elevator..." the boy dryly dismissed,
"Out of order." the man matched Alan's dryness in his reply, and Alan immediately turned on his heel and began walking towards the stairwell.
The pace of his march was quick, perhaps in a hurry to leave as soon as possible.
"Would you mind giving me a hand with this floor?"
"I'm sorry?" Alan asked as he shuffled around, continuing to walk to the stairway backwards.
Without saying a word, the old man gestured to the floor around them. Having finished half the hall, the floor glistened with the wet layer on top.
Alan looked around briefly trying to think of a response "Oh, um... isn't it urgent?" he asked as he pointed to the stairs.
"Well, that depends. You're only meeting with the boss-man, but I'm sure he can wait. I really need to sit down..." he said with a strain as he flexed around his hips.
The boy reeled at first because a meeting with this 'boss' sounded quite urgent. But then he wondered, why would the janitor know about the company's appointments?
Maybe this place was as laid back as the old man presented.
"Okay then, why not." It would not be the first time he helped an old man for no particular reason.
"Wonderful, just come on over here and we'll get started right away," giddily said the old man with two claps, setting his mop into the bucket to let it soak.
Alan turned to the stairway one more time before marching over. And as he went on over a question loomed.
"Old man, can I ask you why you're here?" the boy asked as he approached, though the old man looked like he didn't seem to hear.
Stricken odd, but not faltering, Alan persisted.
"This place is very clean, you must do a lot of work around the building..." again, the man simply bent down and inspected his metal buckets.
"Hmm... I can't help but notice you can't hear me. And old man, don't you only have one mop-!"
"I can hear you." The janitor suddenly said as he turned around, in his hands he had a second set of mops and buckets.
Incidentally, he had unintentionally struck Alan with the mopping end of the pole and some clumps of cloth had gotten into the boy's mouth.
"Pueh-! Pueh-!" cleaning his mouth and tongue, he instinctively spat to the floor and wiped with his sleeve, "Hey!" he began as he turned a bit pent up to the old man.
"A little warning might have been nice!"
"Oh, sorry... I thought you'd see it coming," he commented with a giggle.
"Where did you even get one more-"
"Now, you start from there; that doorway, and I'll work my way towards you." As he said that, he immediately set to work.
Whistling the tune of 'Amazing Grace' quite soulfully and embellishing on some parts, the old man's steady work pace was noted by Alan as being very impressive for someone who just complained about a sore back.
Alan for his part looked to the other half of the hallway still uncleaned.
"So..." he turned to the old man, "I just start now?"
No response came from him again, was he really ignoring him, or was his hearing a bit impaired also?
But with a nod, Alan set to his work and tried to finish as soon as possible.
He would have to pace himself accordingly, and even when his mind was in another place; here he was helping an old man mop the floor.
Despite his present circumstance, he found his work to be quite calming. A moment to rest his mind as his thoughts went once again to the outside.
Catching a glimpse out from the doorway, he saw the backyard still out there along with the clear blue, almost whited sky.
Squinting for a moment, he took a deep breath and sighed, then followed with a brief chuckle.
"What the hell happened with me...?"
"Now you see-" said the old man from across the hall, "You need to move your buckets quickly, or else a stain collects around it!"
"Yes, I know." the boy responded,
"Sure is pippin', I do enjoy myself some manual labour... there's freedom to it." he gave a toothy chuckle again, "Some of the happiest people on earth, smile to high-heaven at the end of the day..."
"... Aha..." Alan found it hard to disagree as he paused his strokes for a moment.
The best days of his life were the ones when he collapsed onto his bed after a long day of work.
So the boy gave a brief chuckle in agreement.
"And there-... we-... go-! Heeyahhh...!" bending back slightly, the old janitor groaned pleasantly from his stretch. The pain in his back alleviated so fantastically.
"Whew!" the boy expressed as well as he straightened up beside the old man and looked back as well.
The entire hall glistened with the fruits of their labour, and with this, the boy smiled, Alan was in a good mood.
"So, where should I put this?" lifting his mop up to the janitor as he turned on his heel to face him.
"Just leave it there in your mop... I'll put it away. So off you go then, son..." the old man never turned to face him as he spoke. Though, a distant smile was ever-present on his face as he seemed to admire the glittering floors of the smooth concrete hall.
Alan remained silent, looking around in contemplation for a moment before he shrugged and left the mop as he was told to do.
"Alright..." he said as he turned to the janitor one last time, "Goodbye then, old man..."
"Hmm hm..." he acknowledged, though it was impossible to discern what he meant.
Walking away, Alan barely blew out a respiring breath before an echoing bang erupted, its sound bouncing off the walls.
"Ahh-!" instinctively raising his arms over his head along with one leg, he looked back to see that his mop had fallen over along with the bucket. And as such the dirty water began spilling back onto the pristine white floor they had just cleaned.
"Oh- oh no..." hissing for a bit, he walked closer.
"Go on ahead, I'll clean this up." quickly reassured the old man, and Alan was quick to clear his throat, and march onwards to the elevators.
"Remember, the elevator's out of order."
"Right!" he silently cussed and turned left to the stairway.
"Hmm hm hm..." Alan couldn't see it now, but the old man gave him a toothy chuckle as the boy walked away.
"Hello?" Alan had taken a flyte of stairs up to the seventh floor, whereupon he encounter a door. Pushing in, he gazed into an expansive hall like the one below.
Again, this entire floor was white marble, white concrete walls, and white concrete pillars dotted here and there.
Initially, he was about to go back out before a noise caught his attention, a soft rumble that had come from a square hole in the ceiling.
Marching over, he found a tall white folding ladder positioned under the square hole, a large blue duffle bag sat beside it.
Peering into the hole, Alan could see nothing but darkness greet him back, akin to a bottomless pit that led upwards instead of down.
He was unnerved, but the noise unmistakably came from here so he had to try.
"Hello?" He repeated, striking the ladder like a drum, "I'm looking for whoever's in charge of this establishment!"
To his surprise, a voice called back.
"Be right with ya! I'm trying to fix the light; tell me if it's working!" a strangely familiar voice instructed from the abyss in the ceiling.
Before he could dwell on his thoughts, Alan's vision was assaulted by a disorientingly bright glow, which made him reel back in surprise.
"Hah-!" he cried, immediately stepping back to rub his eyes.
"Kind of bright though? Yeah, it is for most people... spend their entire lives in the dark..." Alan heard that voice again, it grew closer and closer as he heard the owner descending the ladder.
Blinking his black streaks away, Alan looked to see that his suspicions held true; that voice should have been familiar.
"Trying to hide from me..." he finished as he straitened his blue electrician onesie.
First, at a loss for words he quickly thought of a response, Alan cleared his throat, "The elevator's broken, huh?" he asked rhetorically and slightly unamused.
It was the old man from downstairs, and his outfit had now changed to that of an electrician. To Alan's inquiry, he only seemed a bit embarrassed when he gave him a warm chuckle.
"Yeah, but uh... I'll get around to it." the old man simply stated with a sly wink, seemingly mistaking the boy's intention.
He bent down and began packing his things into the blue duffle bag beside the ladder.
"You wanted to ask me something?"
Alan was tasked out of his stupor, and the boy cleared his throat again.
"Oh, yes! Um... is this the seventh floor?"
"It is," the old man confirmed, standing up he grabbed the ladder and folded it, and laid it on its side.
"Then where is this... boss?" The boy smiled bright in hope, but it quickly disappeared as he scanned his surroundings.
"He's in management." The man zipped up his bag and picked up the ladder.
"... And, where is management?"
"It is on the seventh floor..." and without warning, the electrician began to walk away.
The boy was too stunned to speak.
Just before Alan requested elaboration, the old man made an L-turn right and walked towards a prominent concrete pillar, noticeably a bit bigger than the others on the floor.
Alan tilted his head, what started out as off odd when the ladder didn't follow through as the man walked behind the pillar, came to be absolutely perplexing when the electrician appeared in a different set of clothes as he came back to view.
Walking out and around the column, the man reappeared dressed in a fine-tailored white suit, contrasted with pristine black in his shoes, his tie, and the handkerchief over his heart.
"You must be Alan, I have been expecting you."
Those words brought out a mixed bag of emotions from Alan. They held power, and he was immediately aware that this man was the 'Boss'.
But despite this, Alan couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh, that's just hilarious...! So you're the boss, the electrician, and the janitor?" the boy chuckled and the man in the white suit nodded, "What a strange arrangement!"
Alan did his best to hush his giggles, though the boss seemed to be chuckling as well.
The boy's laughter died down in time but a smile persisted as the man took in a soft breath.
"You always were spirited... just like your mother." he began, and Alan's face shifted immediately but the boy remained silent.
"She didn't mind rolling up her sleeves either son, she never gave pause to any odd request." The man stood now, towering a head over the boy who had stood so tall before.
The boy eyed suspiciously at this old man, who the boy's view of had changed only in the few words he had just spoken.
"Alright, what is this?" his tone became quite serious as his voice lowered, "How do you know my mother, and how on Earth did I end up here?"
Instead of backing away, the old man pulled onto Alan to walk with him, and the boy was very hesitant to follow along.
"Oh, I know quite a lot about you, Alan," he looked forward and squinted, "Just about everything there is to know!"
He further pulled Alan closer, holding onto the boy's shoulders as he bent down a little, he explained, "Everything you've ever said, or done, or thought about doing... is right here on this smart tablet."
Suddenly, the old man pulled out a white coloured tablet with black trims and showed it to Alan; letting go of the boy's shoulders he made his way over to a pure white office desk and chair which they had been steadily approaching.
The boy remained silent, growing more and more confused with every passing moment.
"And as to how you ended up here, please don't patronize and don't make me say it." The old man egged with a toothy giggle, setting down the tablet and taking a seat.
Alan tilted his head,
"I'm sorry?" the boy's eyes briefly flicked to the windows on the far wall.
"Oh, you are choosing to follow through?" the man giggled, seemingly impressed with the boy's fortitude.
"What, no... no, no, what are you going on about?" Alan shifted in his place, eyes beginning to scan manic at his surroundings.
The man's grin twitched, once, twice, then his face fell and was replaced with bewilderment.
"Wait a minute... you're being serious?"
"Ever since I got here, I have been nothing but confused and quite frankly scared. I don't know how I arrived, I just walked in from my backyard; I am not patronizing you, I'm being absolutely serious!" The boy's voice trembled at the end, and he began to take a pitiful stance of defiance and panic.
"Oh..." The man replied, and stayed silent without emotion showing on his face. "Oh, my, me... well, you certainly have to see!" The man rubbed the back of his head, then pressed something on his tablet.
Alan's attention was drawn to a projector lowering down from the ceiling, suspended on a rod to halted just shy of maybe 8 feet off the ground pointing a section of the nearest wall unoccupied by windows or doors.
The projector flickered to life and displayed an image of a smoking corpse that wore a green apron over a white t-shirt and pink coloured track pants.
"This is in no way how you were supposed to be notified, but the corpse in that picture..." he gestured with his palm, "It's you."
Alan turned back to the image projected on the wall and stayed silent, his eyes squinted and he looked back to the man sitting behind his desk before turning back to the projection with his head tilted.
"That's me?"
"Yes,"
"But I appear so deceased!" The boy exclaimed and began to pad himself down, confirming to himself that he was still alive to himself. "You must be mistaken."
"Oh, but I am not... What was the last thing you remember before you came here?"
"Why would that-!" Alan's words died in his mouth as he hung himself in thought for a moment, "Wait, lightning... yes, I remember lightning!"
"You should," The man nodded then turned to the tablet in his hand, "As it says here, you were unfortunately killed by a lightning bolt."
Alan visibly flinched, finally accepting the fact that he had died. As was expected, he seemed quite upset.
"But why-... I'm still so young-... was, so young..."
"Anyway, I brought you here to deliver you an offer." The man abruptly moved on, and Alan was almost left behind in the conversation. The boy did his best to try and keep up, as the man left his seat and began to make his way toward the sputtering boy.
"O-Offer? W-whose offer?"
"Mine." The man stated flat and sure, "Alan, on the subtext that you have literally perished prematurely, you have shown to me through the janitor's test a certain strength of character; so I offer you... reincarnation."
The boy was once again too stunned to speak.
First, he learned that he had died, and then he was now being offered a so-called 'reincarnation' by a man who Alan was pretty sure had been some sort of angel.
"Re-... reincarnation?" Alan finally said looking down to the ground, then a small smile began to form on his lips but was quickly sullied by the words the man spoke next.
"I would rather not send you back and tease you, with the prospect of a life you can never resume. I'm not a cruel god, and I don't like how your books portray me." The white-suited man sighed and turned on his heel, walking back to his desk.
The boy's expression became stone-like for a few moments before he shook his head to scrutinize a certain point in the man's most recent statement.
"Wait, when you say 'god', you mean... 'God'?" the boy couldn't help but twiddle his fingers.
"With a small letter 'g', son. A 'God' can be either all-powerful, yet in that he can't be all good. And if a god is all good, he cannot be all-powerful." The old man shook his head and sunk low in his seat.
"But... you're still...?"
"Hmm? Oh yes, I still hold certain benefits, I still created the universe. I'm as much a nurturer, as I am a creator." The man began to chuckle, "I should be more akin to a mother, but you grew up with your father mostly, so it's no surprise you perceive me as a man."
"You are not?" the boy further question his specific gender.
"I'm whatever you want me to be..." the god stated with his arms held out, offering a bright smile. Prompting Alan to give a chuckle in amusement.
Then the boy looked down and stood silent, occasionally coupled with long sighs. Even though the god's efforts to ease his nerves were successful, there was no easy way to recover from the information the boy had been subjected to.
"You're mother..." The god began, and the boy perked up, "She was a good woman, an amazing role model."
"Could you... could tell me more about her?" the god smiled warm and nodded.
"You were young, I expected you didn't remember much. You see, you could almost call her a hero."
"A... hero?" the boy's tone was of slight disbelief. That was a strong word he would use to describe someone.
"Yes, as I recalled before; when an opportunity presented itself she never turned it down. She was an optimist, and it was so very contagious."
Alan looked down again and smiled to himself.
"In life, she was happy." The god cleared his throat and unconsciously stressed his next words.
"And to those, who had often brought their smile to others; many smiles will be brought."
The boy looked up and began scrutinizing the god who now bore quite a small but sombre and distant smile.
Then there, the boy understood. Affixing his stance, he straightened his shirt and cleared his throat.
"Alright then, mister god... what exactly do you have in mind?"
The old man was apparently very taken by the boy's brash, looking at him with his eyes wild and bemused.
"Hah..." he failed to immediately form his words, but then took his tablet in hand and stood tall, "Hmm! Very well then, Alan Jesse Adams! I shall offer you three wishes."
"By the way, why do you use a tablet?"
Alan and the god sat on the pristine white marble tiled floor surrounded by discarded sheets of paper that had a number of drawings and writings.
"I am not a savage, my son. Technology is a convenient tool, you should know that better than an old man." the god patted the boy on his shoulder, but received not even a grunt from Alan as the boy seemed to be in deep contemplation.
"Huh... then for my first wish, what if I had the power of control over technology?"
"Oh, that would be most versatile, and this world you are going to is quite backwards in that department given the context of their time."
"Hmm... and there is nothing more you'll tell me about it?" the boy's tone became a little supplicate, but the god refused.
"Uh-... no..." he shook his head and showed Alan the screen of his tablet.
"Doing so would-"
"Then what's stopping me from just wishing I had, say, the powers of Dr Manhattan?" The boy interrupted, and the god looked up and began scratching his head, "I could ensure that I am safe that way." Alan added.
"Well nothing's stopping," The god shrugged then wagged his finger, "But just know that what appears as absolute power is never absolute, not even mine."
"Hmm..." the boy grumbled, "At least I should still wish to be intelligent. Being the dumb one, I have lived that; and I never want to live it again." the boy declared, sketching up a rough image of a cartoonish brain with fuzzy lines radiating off of it.
Beside the sketch was a comical interpretation of himself - naked - reaching out to touch a heap of raw iron and copper wires. The mass seemed to be reaching back, reminiscent of a certain painting by Michelangelo.
"Be careful though, once you learn about engineering principles and the laws of the universe in depth you might begin to fall into a habit of uninspired ideas."
"I think I'm reasonably creative, but... I'll be safe, who knows?" the boy began to draft another cartoonish brain but this time it seemed to be made of bubbles that were lightbulbs.
As soon as he was done, the god took a picture of Alan's three sketches.
"Ah, very good there..." the man mumbled as he fiddled with his tablet, "That will do!" he finished with a hearty laugh.
Alan got to his feet and offered his hand to seal their deal, but before their hands made contact,
"One more thing..." the boy called out as his eyes stayed away, "If I... die... again, what happens to me?"
The god reeled his head briefly before he answered. Suddenly taking the boy's hand, they shook once and Alan's clothes began to lift upwards, followed by his body.
A gust entered the empty office, powerful enough to smash the glass windows and blew Alan's sketches wildly around the rooms in a flutter.
"I suppose you'll just have to find out, won't you?" he gave him his toothy smile and a salute. The god had to yell from the noise of the wind.
Alan's face was that of exasperation, but soon sighed and returned the god's gesture as he floated in the air parallel to the floor.
Then his vision was overtaken by a blinding light and white noise came once more, making him feel like he was suffocating under a crushing weight. Like he was about to die,
And was gone,
The rumbling of thunder drowned the sound of heavy rain for a few moments, muffled by the walls to the people inside the Hospital.
It stood atop a hill, surrounded by a lush evergreen forest, a rare sight for an establishment in a city.
The whaling screams of a mother could be heard.
"Shh shh shh, it's almost over," a nurse standing by her side monitored the screens which showed her bpm at 158, "Yosh... Yosh... Yosh..." she began chanting, ignoring the pain of her hand that the howling woman gripped so tightly.
"I can see his head!" The Obstetrician informed his assistants and whoever was free began to scramble, gathering everything necessary from around the room, "Just a little more!"
Even as pain tormented her every being, Angelina pushed through for him. She could feel the doctor lightly tug at Little Rei from under the blanket.
"He's almost here... got him!" the doctor in one movement stood up and turned around, and laid the baby boy into a towel handy by.
Angelina was left with a feeling of triumph in her euphoria, heaving up and down her sweat trickled over her brow.
Looking down from her position, she could see the other nurses and the doctor huddled together over the taller male nurse who carried Little Rei in a towel.
What's worse, she heard no cry from her baby.
"Mister Omura, you may enter now." a nurse informed a man who had been sitting just outside the operation room.
He had heard everything that had happened inside, and he felt like throwing up. He had a weak stomach after all, and hearing his wife's anguish made him double over.
Standing up, he fixed himself to look his best before he made it inside.
Bringing with him a warm smile, he was prepared to welcome a new member into the Omura household.
But what greeted him was a less than stellar sight.
To his left, the doctor and nurses huddled over his newborn son, seeming to be discussing something amongst themselves. To his right, he saw his wife who still laid on the soft bed covered by a thin white blanket.
"Toshi..." she squirmed out, bringing her hands over her mouth.
Hitoshi Omura looked back to the doctors, the umbilical cord had been cut and the Obstetrician called for his attention.
He brought with him in his arms, the newborn baby wrapped in a towel. It was here when the man finally noticed that his son was not crying.
"Do not be alarmed," he said to the father's shell-shocked and wide expression, "Your boy is not dead, but I must say he is quite strange." the doctor informed with a slight wince.
"Quite strange?" Taking the baby in his arms, he looked down to see that indeed, his son was alive and well. But instead of crying like newborn babies were expected to do, his baby son took to turn his big, bubbly eyes to look at his father most curiously.
"What the heck...?" Mister Omura quickly muttered out in his bewilderment.
"Toshi...?" Angelina called for him, and he was immediately by her side.
The boy's mother took him in her arms and was herself quite taken aback by his strange disposition.
"... My Rei..." but she quickly got over it and gave her son a warm embrace, "My little Rei..."
Just then, a single bolt of lightning struck the hospital, leaving the room's occupants in darkness at least until the staff got the generators up and running.
To this, the midwife wrung her hands and declared the lightning a bad omen.
"This boy will be a child of darkness," she said to nurse beside her just loud enough for Angelina to hear and frown, and reply;
"No... He will be a child of light."
I do hope the reference at the end is quite on the nose...
I wanted to rewrite this chapter ever since I started to take this story a little more seriously.