MHA: A Kings Legacy (BNHA x AOT)

The screech of tires echoed through the empty street, but Aiden barely had time to register it before a force slammed into him like a freight train. Pain erupted through his body as he was thrown across the pavement, landing with a sickening thud.

His vision blurred, and all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. A fleeting thought crossed his mind: *Truck-kun? Seriously?*

The cold, wet sensation of blood pooling around him became the only thing grounding him to reality. The pain, however, was already fading, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief. Finally. This was it. Death was coming to claim him. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Aiden wasn't scared.

He was ready.

Maybe the suffering will finally end.

His breaths became shallow, laboured, but instead of fear, he felt peace. The world around him dimmed, darkness swallowing everything as his body grew cold.

There was no flashing of his life before his eyes, no profound final thought. Just the quiet acceptance of the inevitable.

---

Suddenly, a bright light pierced through the darkness, far more blinding than anything Aiden had ever seen. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself no longer on the cold pavement.

Instead, he was lying on what felt like a soft surface, the warmth of the room around him almost comforting. The last remnants of pain were gone. Confusion set in immediately. I was dying... Wasn't I?

The room was bathed in an ethereal white glow, almost sterile in its brightness. Sitting up, Aiden blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening. In front of him, a figure stood, draped in a radiant, almost blinding light.

The figure's face was completely obscured, as though the glow itself was protecting its identity.

For a long, awkward moment, neither Aiden nor the figure spoke. The silence stretched on, and Aiden, who had been expecting death or nothingness, now found himself in an uncomfortable standoff with... whatever this was.

The figure shifted, almost fidgeting.

"I—uh, wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," the figure said, sounding incredibly out of place for an omnipotent being. Its voice was neither booming nor godlike.

Instead, it had an almost sheepish tone, as though they'd bumped into an old acquaintance in an embarrassing situation.

Aiden blinked, still dazed. "Again?" His voice cracked from the sheer absurdity of it all. "Wait, what do you mean again? And where am I?"

The figure cleared its throat, obviously uncomfortable. "Well, um... this is a bit awkward. You weren't supposed to... die. At least, not like this." The being sighed, rubbing what looked like its forehead in exasperation. "Truck-kun, huh? Always causing paperwork."

Aiden's eyes widened. "Truck-kun? Wait... am I... dead?"

The figure's shoulders slumped. "Well, yes. Technically. But also... no."

"Could you just pick one? Dead or not?" Aiden groaned, already frustrated with this surreal turn of events. His life—or death—couldn't even be simple.

The figure hesitated before responding. "You're in a bit of a grey area. You were supposed to live a bit longer, but, well... the truck came out of nowhere, and now we're in this situation."

Aiden slumped back onto whatever surface he was sitting on, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "This is just great. I finally thought I'd escape all the crap, and now I'm... here. Wherever 'here' is."

"Look, I know it's not ideal," the figure said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "This isn't how things were supposed to go. You weren't meant to die tonight, but it seems the universe had... other plans. Again, awkward."

Aiden buried his face in his hands. He couldn't believe this was happening. "So, what now?" he mumbled, voice muffled by his hands. "Am I going to get thrown into another world or something?"

The figure perked up at this, as if relieved to be moving the conversation forward. "Well, that was the plan. Kind of."

Aiden frowned. "What do you mean was?"

"Well," the figure shifted its weight, clearly uncomfortable, "technically, you weren't supposed to get isekai'd yet. We had another couple of years planned for you in your current world, you know, just building up some character development and all that. But... since you're here early..."

Aiden raised an eyebrow. "So, this is all just one big cosmic mistake?"

The figure winced. "In a way... yes."

Aiden threw his hands up in disbelief. "So what, now I just sit here in limbo while you figure out what to do with me? Or do I get a do-over?"

The figure seemed to brighten at the mention of a do-over. "Actually, yes! A do-over, of sorts. It's not ideal, but since you've already made it this far, we could send you to... well, somewhere else. A new world. One where you can start over."

Aiden raised an eyebrow. "You're saying I get the classic second chance? Like all those anime and light novels?"

The figure nodded, somewhat eagerly now. "Precisely! I mean, it's not exactly how things were supposed to go, but we can work with it."

Aiden, still processing everything, let out a long sigh. "This is insane."

"I know," the figure replied, sounding almost sympathetic now. "But think of it this way: you have a chance to start fresh. Away from all the pain, all the suffering. You can be anyone you want to be."

For the first time since waking up in this strange place, Aiden felt a flicker of something other than frustration or despair. Hope. A new world, a new life, free from the grief and burdens of his old one? It sounded like a fantasy.

But then reality—or whatever this was—set back in. "What's the catch?" Aiden asked, narrowing his eyes. "There's always a catch."

The figure hesitated before responding. "Well... you see, the thing is, the world you'll be going to... it's not exactly... peaceful."

Aiden's eyes narrowed even further. "Go on."

"There might be... some challenges," the figure admitted. "Possibly some danger. But hey, that's what makes it exciting, right? Character development!"

Aiden groaned. "You're kidding me."

The figure chuckled nervously. "Look, I'll be honest with you. It's not perfect. But it's a chance. And it's better than staying here in limbo, right?"

Aiden stared at the glowing figure, torn between frustration and curiosity. He had no idea what to expect, but at this point, what did he have to lose? His old life was gone, and maybe, just maybe, this was the escape he'd been longing for.

With a deep breath, Aiden stood up, straightening his jacket. "Fine. I'll do it."

The figure seemed to smile, though it was impossible to see its face. "Excellent choice! I'll send you off right away."

Before Aiden could even react, the world around him began to blur, the white room fading into a swirl of colours and light. The last thing he heard before everything went dark was the figure's voice, now filled with excitement.

"Good luck, Aiden! Try not to die so soon this time!"

And just like that, Aiden was gone. Off to a new world, with no idea what awaited him on the other side.

---

[Aiden POV]

As the light engulfed me, pulling me away from the strange celestial waiting room, I felt... nothing. Well, not nothing. It was more like being yanked by an invisible rope into a swirling vortex of awkwardness. Not exactly the dignified transition into reincarnation I'd expected. 

Great. I'm floating through this weird, colourful tunnel—again—and for a brief second, I'm just hoping this new life won't be as tragic as my last one. But really, who am I kidding? My luck so far hasn't exactly been stellar.

Then, suddenly, everything shifts. I'm not floating anymore. I feel... cramped. Uncomfortably warm, squished like I'm wrapped up in one of those giant beanbag chairs. It's humid, too. Gross.

I'm aware of my body, but it feels... tiny? My limbs are practically useless—stubby little things. My first thought, of course, is oh no, no, no.

This better not be what I think it is.

Before I can even process what's happening, there's movement. My world gets jostled, and a muffled voice, deep and somewhat frantic, reaches me.

"She's in labour! Get the midwife, NOW!"

Ah, hell.

I'm about to be born, aren't I?

---

The next few minutes—or however long it takes—are a blur of pushing, yelling, and what sounds like pure chaos on the other side of my fleshy prison. Meanwhile, I'm curled up in the foetal position (literally), silently panicking.

This is happening. I'm being reborn. 

I'd wish for death, but that already happened.

Suddenly, there's a violent tug, and I'm forced down a narrow, crushing tunnel. It's horrible. It's claustrophobic. It's... childbirth. I realise I'm screaming internally—*not like this!*

And then, just as I think I'm about to be squeezed into oblivion, I'm yanked into the cold, bright world. 

I wail.

Loudly.

Not because I'm a newborn and that's what newborns do, but because I'm overwhelmed by the sheer insanity of this entire situation. The irony of my entire existence crashes over me like a truck (again, thanks for that). I didn't want to be alive a few minutes ago, and now I'm being forcibly yanked into life... again.

I hear laughter and cheers all around me, like this is some grand celebration. Well, for them, maybe.

"Oh, he's beautiful!" a voice coos—a woman's voice. Soft, warm, and full of love. 

My new mother.

But that doesn't stop the sudden wave of dread that crashes over me.

Beautiful? Really? I'm literally covered in bodily fluids. This is not a good look.

Someone's holding me now, their hands gentle as they wrap me in a blanket. I'm staring up at the blurry figure of a woman, her face flushed with exertion, but she's smiling down at me with such warmth and joy.

For a second—just a second—my breath hitches.

Can I...? Can I love her like I loved my real mum?

That thought stings. I feel a lump forming in my tiny throat, which is ridiculous because I don't even think my throat has fully developed yet. But there it is. My old mum's face flashes in my mind—her laughter, her comforting hugs, the way she'd say my name when I needed reassurance.

And then... she's gone, just like she was taken from me in the last life. Along with Dad.

I want to cry again, but this time for real. I don't want to forget them. They were my parents. My real parents. 

What if I can't ever feel the same way about these new people? What if I'm always haunted by the memories of my old life? 

The woman holding me is looking at me with such love, and all I can feel is a dull ache in my chest. I mean, sure, she's technically my new mum, and from the looks of things, she's probably a good one. But that doesn't stop the guilt bubbling inside me.

Her voice is gentle as she whispers, "Welcome to the world, my darling."

I stare back at her, wide-eyed and internally freaking out. *Oh God, she's already attached. I'm going to break her heart when I emotionally distance myself in five years because I can't get over my previous family.* 

The thought is devastating. For her and for me.

---

Meanwhile, I'm passed around like some kind of squishy football. People are grinning, cooing, and saying things like, "He's so strong!" and "Look at those cheeks!"

Strong? Seriously? I can barely hold my own head up. This is just humiliating. It's like I've been demoted from a struggling, depressed teen to a wobbly potato with zero motor control.

I can't stop thinking about my old life, though. About the family I lost, the love I left behind. What if I can't love this new family the same way? Will they ever measure up to the parents I lost?

As I'm passed to what I assume is my new father, his voice rumbles like distant thunder. "Look at him! He's perfect."

Oh great, no pressure, Dad.

I blink up at him, my mind a chaotic storm of doubt and confusion. Sure, they're nice, they're loving, and this might be a happy life... but what if I can't ever truly embrace it? What if I'm always stuck between the love I had and the love I'm supposed to give?

As my new parents fuss over me, I try to make peace with the crushing realisation that this is my reality now. I've been given a second chance, but the weight of my past life is already hanging over me like a dark cloud.

Everyone's still cooing and laughing, and all I can think is: I'm screwed.

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