You were.. beyond average. Your life? You were a nobody, nothing more than a background character just cruising through life. And honestly?

You were okay with that.

People around you had their main character moment every now and then, but you? Nah. You were nothing but a speck of dust in the wind, forgettable.

And when you finally died?

That wasn't even remotely interesting. You just died from a heart attack, too much caffeine pumping into your body after several hours of overtime just trying to make a living.

So you swore. Swore that if you got a second change in life—not that you really believed in that reincarnation crap—you'd make it worth living. Every. last. minute.

So when you did open your eyes again, it wasn’t to darkness—or judgment—or anything poetic like that.

It was light. Warm, blinding light. Silk against your skin. The distant murmur of voices speaking in hushed, reverent tones, as though the air itself might shatter if they were too loud.

You learned quickly that you hadn’t been given a second chance so much as an entirely different rulebook.

You were born into gold and marble, into a name that made people bow before they ever dared look you in the eye and above all magic. A crown loomed in your future like a promise carved in stone—heir, they called you, long before you understood what the word meant. Your days were measured in lessons instead of hours, your nights guarded by shadows that were sworn to die before letting harm reach you.

And still—despite the tutors, the rituals, the weight of destiny pressing gently but constantly at your back—you lived. Truly lived. You laughed too loudly, ran through halls meant for quiet dignity, spilled ink on treaties older than your previous lifetime. You were not dust this time. You were impossible to ignore.

Five years passed like a held breath finally released.

Small hands reached up, fingers curling into embroidered fabric as one of your parent’s trusted servants lifted you effortlessly into their arms. You were carried through towering corridors, head resting against a steady shoulder, the world swaying softly with each step.

“Oh, my sweet angel.” A familiar, gentle voice beamed, a new pair of hands curling around your waist and lifting you into the air like Simba. Your mother smiled perfect, pearly whites up at you, as though you alone powered the sun over Vermillion.

The court doors opened.

And immediately, peace died.

“This is why you don’t touch things that aren’t yours—PUT ME DOWN, WOMAN—”

“Katsuki Bakugo, I will absolutely drag you by the scruff if you don’t stop embarrassing this family—”

A small, furious boy dangled midair in the iron grip of a sharp-eyed woman with ash-blond hair and zero fear of consequences. Katsuki, six and already built like a lit fuse, kicked and flailed, snapping his teeth like a feral guard dog while hurling curses that made several nobles audibly gasp.

Behind them, his father hovered—meek, apologetic, hands clasped together as if praying the floor would swallow him whole. “M-Mitsuki, dear, maybe we should—ah—lower the volume…?”

Mitsuki smiled. Tight. Controlled. Terrifying. “Behave, ya damn brat.”

“You old hag!” Katsuki snarled. “Release me at once!”

Your father, the king, cleared his throat—softly, but with weight. The sound alone rippled through the room, snapping attention into place. Mitsuki straightened. Katsuki froze mid-snarl.

Your mother laughed, light and melodic, adjusting you against her hip. “What a spirited child,” she said pleasantly. “You must be Katsuki.”

His red eyes flicked to you. Sharp. Curious. Challenging.

You stared back.

Something sparked.

“Didn’t I teach you any manners!?” The sandy blonde woman bit, allowing Katsuki only a moment to stand on his two feet before pushing a firm palm to his back, forcing him to stumble forward, closer into your presense.

“Tch..” With little clenched fists, he whipped his head away, his princely attire feeling particularly itchy as he grumbled a begrudging, “Hi.”