The alarm never rang that morning.
Or maybe it did—he just never woke up in the same world.
Ren blinked at the ceiling above him, expecting the cracks of his old apartment. Instead, he saw a clean white surface, the kind you'd find in a hospital room. A faint antiseptic smell hung in the air. His body ached like he had been hit by a truck.
Then came the voices outside the curtain.
> "Did you hear? A Nomu attacked downtown!"
"Heroes from U.A. handled it. Poor civilians though…"
Ren froze. U.A.?
That name didn't belong in reality.
Heart pounding, he sat up. His reflection stared back from a mirror beside the bed — a younger version of himself, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Same dark eyes, but sharper… colder.
> "No way…"
"This—this can't be real."
He rushed to the window. Outside, towering hero billboards flashed across the skyline — Endeavor, Mirko, Hawks. Traffic below was orderly, futuristic… anime-like.
He was inside My Hero Academia.
---
At first, excitement flooded him. He did it! He'd actually transmigrated!
Then he noticed the newspaper on the table.
Headline: "Villain Attack in Hosu: Suspect Escapes U.A. Custody."
Below it—a mugshot.
The face staring back was his.
Ren's breath hitched.
No identity. No records. Just a villain's name written in bold:
> "MASTER MIND."
---
He laughed softly, a bitter sound echoing in the silent room.
> "So this is my role? Not a hero… not even a background extra. A villain."
The lights flickered. Pain shot through his skull. Thoughts flooded in—numbers, movements, probabilities, strategies—all overlapping at once.
He clutched his head as a voice echoed in his mind.
> Neural capacity unlocked: 27%... 43%... 89%... 100%.
Images flashed—schematics, faces, city maps, hero patrol routes. His brain felt like it was burning, yet perfectly calm.
When he opened his eyes, everything made sense.
> "Fine," he whispered, smirking. "If this world wants a villain… I'll give them a masterpiece."
And that was the moment Mastermind was born.
The world around him slowed.
Every breath, every distant sound stretched thin—as if time itself bent beneath his thoughts.
Ren blinked, and data spilled across his mind like code on a screen.
Pedestrian movements → predictable.
Hero patrol patterns → weak points detected.
Nearby exits → three.
Camera blind spot → fifteen seconds window.
He wasn't seeing with eyes anymore; he was processing.
He whispered, "So this is what one hundred percent feels like…"
The fluorescent lights above flickered again. His heart rate spiked, neurons firing faster than his body could follow. The pain came—a sharp sting behind his eyes—and then a flood of clarity.
> Think too long, and your mind will melt.
The warning wasn't spoken; it was instinct, an internal failsafe. He forced the stream of thoughts to slow, gasping for air. The white walls shimmered back into focus.
Outside, a nurse called his alias—"Ren Akira, discharge papers are ready."
He smirked. A fake name… good. The world still doesn't know what I am.
He signed the papers, stepped into the crowded street, and watched the heroes flying above the skyline. People cheered. Cameras flashed.
> "So loud. So blind."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of newspaper—the mugshot of "Mastermind."
That wasn't a coincidence. Someone—or something—had already written him into this world's history.
If destiny wanted him to play the villain, he would play it to perfection.
> "Heroes chase glory. I'll chase truth."
He turned away from the noise, walking into the narrow alleys of Musutafu. The city's reflection glimmered on puddles beneath his feet. For the first time, he felt purpose burn inside him—not admiration, but control.
> "Let's begin the experiment."
The lights above flickered once more, as if the city itself shivered under his gaze.
---
The streets of Musutafu buzzed with life. Billboards glowed with hero merchandise, a sea of capes and smiles plastered across every wall.
Ren ducked into a quiet café at the corner, sliding into a seat near the window. The TV above the counter blared a news segment:
> "Three months since All Might's shocking retirement speech…"
He froze. Three months… post-Kamino incident.
So All for One was already captured.
Deku had One for All.
The League of Villains had gone underground.
> "So, it's season four timeline," he muttered under his breath. "Perfect. Chaos, but no clear leader."
He scrolled through the news on a borrowed phone—pro-hero rankings, Endeavor's rise to number one, reports of Shigaraki sightings. Every article slotted neatly into his mental map of events.
> "Plenty of power vacuums. Plenty of room for a new name to move unseen."
He opened a blank notepad app and typed three words in clean, deliberate strokes:
> PHASE ONE — INFORMATION CONTROL.
Outside, sirens wailed as a mid-level hero chased a purse-snatcher. The people cheered. The hero waved.
Ren just watched.
> "They celebrate illusions," he murmured. "Let's see how long before they crumble."
The coffee went cold, but his mind burned hot—calculating, adapting, evolving.
He now knew where in the story he was.
Next,
He needed to decide how to rewrite it.