Andrés woke up in a white room.

There was nothing else. Just white. White above, white below, white in every direction. The space stretched infinitely without visible walls, a ceiling, or a floor, though he was clearly standing on something solid.

“YES!” he shouted, jumping up with his arms raised. “I KNEW IT! ISEKAI TIME, BABY!”

This is real. It’s actually happening. I died and now I’m going to reincarnate in a fantasy world.

This was exactly like the manga Andrés had read religiously for years. You die saving someone, you meet God or some cosmic entity, they give you OP powers, and they send you to a fantasy world full of elves, adventures, and infinite possibilities.

He spun around, looking for any sign of the divine entity that should be waiting for him. No isekai manga he had ever read skipped this part. It was the crucial moment where the protagonist received his blessing, his unique skill, his…

Wait.

Someone was sitting in front of him. A bald man in a wheelchair. He wore a formal dark suit, impeccably pressed. He had a wise, penetrating gaze that seemed to see right through you. His hands were folded in front of him in a gesture of infinite patience.

“No way,” Andrés said, rubbing his eyes hard, hoping the image would change. It didn’t change. “Are you Charles Xavier?”

The man choked on… air? He began to cough violently, bringing a closed fist to his mouth while his professional composure completely crumbled.

“Have you been God this whole time?” Andrés continued, approaching with quick steps. “Because if so, my friend, I have MANY formal complaints to file. Starting with the completely unfair distribution of luck with women, followed by the genetic acne that haunted me all through puberty, and ending with the absolutely ridiculous fact that my brothers get more action than I do. What kind of universe design is that? Where is the balance? Where is the cosmic justice?”

“I… am not God,” the man finally said, still coughing as he caught his breath. “And I certainly didn’t expect… this kind of first encounter with a newly deceased soul.”

“Then what are you?” Andrés crossed his arms. “Did Truck-kun send you too? Is there a waiting room for isekai victims I wasn’t told about?”

“Truck-kun?”

“The truck that sends people to isekais. It’s like the Uber of reincarnation. Although technically, Car-kun sent me,” Andrés paused. “Or Sex-Shop-kun, if we’re being completely precise about the details of my death.”

Charles Xavier, because it was definitely him, he even had the same distinguished bearing and calm voice Andrés remembered from the movies, massaged his temples with his index and middle fingers. It was a gesture of exhausted patience he had probably perfected while dealing with Wolverine.

“Allow me to explain from the beginning,” his voice regained that professor-like quality. “I am Charles Xavier. Professor. Leader of the X-Men. And no, I have no idea how I ended up here in this white space with you.”

“The X-Men are real?” Andrés sat on the floor, crossing his legs. “Magneto too? Wolverine? Storm? Mystique with her blue scale suit?”

“In my world, they are all very real,” he nodded slowly. “I was using Cerebro, my machine for locating mutants on a global level, when suddenly… a signal appeared. The strangest and most powerful one I have detected in decades of use. I tried to focus on it, to track its origin, and when I did, I ended up… here. In this white void. With you.”

Andrés scratched his head, processing the information.

This makes no sense. There’s supposed to be a god here, or an angel, or some cosmic entity giving me cheats for my new life. Not Professor X lost in space.

“Let me see if I understand correctly,” Andrés raised a finger. “You are real. The X-Men are real in your dimension. And somehow your superpowered mutant-finding machine located me across who knows how many dimensions. Does that mean I’m a mutant?”

“It seems so,” he rolled closer in his wheelchair, stopping a few feet away. “I can feel your mind clearly now that I am close. You have… considerable potential. Latent telepathic powers, very similar to my own.”

“Telepathic powers?” Andrés felt his heart race with excitement. “Like reading minds? Controlling people? Making girls think I’m irresistibly attractive even though I’m a total loser?”

“That last one would be deeply unethical and morally reprehensible,” his tone turned stern, the same one he likely used to scold his students. “A person’s mind is sacred. Manipulating it for selfish or romantic purposes violates every principle of…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Prof X. All that mutant respect and human dignity philosophy,” Andrés waved his hand dismissively. “But technically, CAN I do it? That’s my real question.”

“Technically… with the proper training and years of practice…” He sighed. “Yes, you could. But you should NEVER do it.”

“So I can. Excellent,” Andrés smiled broadly. “Mark that down as a future possibility.”

“Young man, I feel you aren’t grasping the gravity of the situation,” Charles leaned forward, his expression serious. “You have a gift. A power that could help many people if used correctly. You could stop conflicts before they escalate, you could help people with mental trauma, you could…”

“With great power comes great responsibility,” Andrés finished the sentence before he could continue. “Yes, yes, I know perfectly well. Uncle Ben, Spider-Man, the whole heroic philosophy. I’ve heard it a thousand times in movies and comics. But wait a second,” he jumped to his feet. “If you aren’t God or the cosmic entity supposed to give me the motivational speech and send me to the isekai with broken cheats… who the hell is? Where is the person in charge of all this?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head slowly. “I am trying to understand exactly what happened and how I ended up here myself. But there is one thing I can perceive clearly,” he moved closer and placed a firm hand on Andrés’s shoulder. “Your path does not end here in this void. You will wake up soon in a world of heroes.”

“Like your world full of mutants?”

“Similar in concept, but different in execution,” his eyes closed as if he were concentrating. “I can feel… powers everywhere. So many different powers. A world where the extraordinary is common, where what we call mutants there is the norm here.”

Andrés’s heart began to beat faster. The possibilities were starting to take shape in his mind.

A world full of superpowers. This could be Marvel, DC, My Hero Academia, One Punch Man… the options are infinite.

“And you?” Andrés asked. “What will happen to you? Will you go back to your world with the X-Men?”

“I sincerely hope so. My students need me. The Institute needs me,” a shadow of worry crossed his face. “But before we part, before this strange experience ends…” His gaze became intensely serious, locking onto Andrés’s. “Promise me something. When you reach that new world, when you wake up with your powers, use them for good. Help people in need. Don’t waste this second chance being selfish or…”

“Using my mental powers to look at girls’ chests without them noticing?”

“…Yes, exactly what you just said,” he massaged the bridge of his nose. “Please, tell me you won’t do that.”

“Hey, technically I already saw some,” Andrés shrugged. “The ones belonging to the MILF who caused my death. I fulfilled my teenage dream right before dying. Everything else from now on is pure profit.”

Charles Xavier shook his head slowly, but there was a small, involuntary smile on his face, as if he were remembering his own younger years.

“You are completely incorrigible. Probably the worst possible candidate for mental powers I have ever met,” but then his expression softened. “But there is good in you. I can feel it in your mind. Just… please, don’t ruin it by being an idiot.”

“I’ll try,” Andrés raised his hand in a scout salute. “Scout’s honor. Though I was never a scout, so I don’t know how much that’s worth.”

“And please,” he added with an almost amused tone, “if you see other versions of me in that world, don’t tell them you met the ‘real’ Charles Xavier. It would be… extremely complicated to explain without sounding completely insane.”

“Will there be other versions of you? Like multiversal variants?”

“In a world of heroes where the impossible is common, one never knows what may exist.”

The white room began to glow with increasing intensity. Charles Xavier started to fade, his form becoming translucent like a ghost.

“Wait!” Andrés shouted, reaching a hand out to him. “How do I use the powers exactly? Is there a tutorial? An instruction manual? How to be a Telepath for Dummies videos? Anything?”

“Listen to your instinct,” his voice became distant. “Telepathy is like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it becomes over time. But be very careful. Human minds are fragile. Never force, never…”

Andrés didn’t hear the rest. The white light swallowed him completely, consuming his entire field of vision.

Andrés woke up on a street.

The asphalt was hot against his back. The sun shone intensely over his head. Sounds of traffic and conversations filled the air.

Ouch. Why do isekais always drop you in uncomfortable places? Couldn’t I appear in a soft bed?

He stood up slowly, brushing the dust off his clothes. He looked around, trying to orient himself. A normal street at first glance. Normal houses. Normal buildings. People walking on the sidewalks.

Except it wasn’t normal at all.

The guy who passed by Andrés had curved horns growing out of his head. The woman on the corner scolding her son had skin that was completely pink, the color of bubblegum. And the little boy running after his dog was… floating? Yes, definitely floating about a foot off the ground while laughing.

“What the hell…” Andrés murmured, spinning in a circle to take it all in.

Superpowers. Everyone has superpowers here. This is…

Then he saw her walking on the opposite sidewalk.

Tight jeans that hugged her legs. A casual red blouse that somehow looked elegant on her. Blonde hair with a modern, rebellious cut. A bag hanging from her shoulder. A phone in her hand.

But it was her face that made Andrés freeze.

Naturally sharp eyebrows. A slightly annoyed expression, as if the entire world were a minor inconvenience. Piercing red eyes. An aggressive, natural beauty that screamed “I’m too good for you but I’m also completely aware of it and I don’t care.”

“It can’t be,” Andrés whispered, feeling his jaw drop. “No. Fucking. Way.”

She was identical to her. Absolutely identical to the anime designs.

Mitsuki Bakugo.

Katsuki Bakugo’s mother.

From My Hero Academia.

Shit, shit, shit. It’s not a fantasy isekai with elves and dragons. It’s My Hero Academia. I’m in the world of MHA.

His mind worked rapidly, recalling everything he knew from the anime and manga. If Mitsuki was here, walking casually down the street, then…

Wait. She looks exactly like she does in the anime when she appears as Bakugo’s mom. That means…

He felt something strange. Andrés ran a hand over his head and froze.

Skin. Just skin. Smooth and completely hairless.

“No,” he touched it again, with more urgency. “No, no, no, NO.”

He ran toward the reflection of a nearby shop window. He looked at himself.

Youthful features. Normal build. Clothes that had somehow appeared with him.

And completely, absolutely, irredeemably bald.

“DAMN IT!” Andrés screamed at the sky. “REALLY?! DID CHARLES XAVIER PASS HIS BALDNESS TO ME?! I’M A TEENAGER! I’M SUPPOSED TO HAVE HAIR! BEAUTIFUL ANIME PROTAGONIST HAIR!”

Several passersby stopped to give him weird looks.

Of all the things I could inherit from Professor X. Mental powers, great. Wisdom, fantastic. But the baldness? REALLY?!

“Hey, you,” a deep voice snapped Andrés out of his hair-related existential crisis.

He turned sharply. A huge, muscular guy who looked like a professional wrestler, with a Quirk that made his skin look like cracked gray stone, was looking at him with suspicion and annoyance.

“What are you doing standing there screaming like an idiot? Are you lost or something? Did you escape from a mental hospital?”

“I… yeah, I’m lost.” And bald. Don’t forget to mention that I’m traumatizingly bald.

“Are you a foreigner? You talk weird. Your accent is strange.”

Shit. Right. My Spanish probably translates automatically or something. Or maybe I’m speaking Japanese without realizing it. Isekai mechanics are never clear.

He tried to respond, but then he remembered what Charles had said. Telepathy. He could use telepathy.

You can understand me perfectly, right?

He projected the thought directly into the man’s mind.

The guy froze completely. His stone skin lost a shade of color. His eyes went wide, showing the whites around his irises.

“What… what was that?” He took a step back. “Your voice? In my head? Without you moving your mouth?”

Interesting. It worked on the first try. Just think and…

Andrés tried something else. He looked at an empty soda can lying nearby. He concentrated on it.

The can trembled. Then it rose a foot off the ground, floating in the air.

Telekinesis too. Charles said telepathy, but I have telekinesis too. Two for one.

“THAT’S A MENTAL QUIRK!” the stone guy shouted, pointing accusingly at Andrés. “AND YOU HAVE TELEKINESIS TOO! Hey! GET OUT OF MY HEAD RIGHT NOW!”

People began to stop and watch them. Murmurs of curiosity. Mitsuki Bakugo also looked over from across the street, watching the scene with a raised eyebrow before shaking her head and walking away, clearly not interested enough to stay.

“Sorry, sorry, my bad,” Andrés raised his hands in surrender. The can hit the ground with a metallic clatter. “I’m… practicing. I’m completely new with my Quirk. Late manifestation.”

“New? How old are you, kid?”

“Fifteen.”

“And you’re just now manifesting a Quirk? That’s… extremely rare,” he frowned. “Most kids manifest their Quirks by four or five. Were you unconscious this whole time?”

Not as long as you’d think, buddy. But I can’t explain that I just reincarnated from another world after dying in a sex shop after touching a MILF’s breasts and meeting Professor X in limbo.

“Late bloomer,” Andrés improvised quickly. “Doctors say it happens sometimes. Hey, what’s the date today? I hit my head and I’m a bit disoriented.”

“The date?” He looked at him like he was crazy. “It’s January 15th. Did you lose your memory of the calendar too?”

“And the year?”

“The year? Did you really hit your head that hard?” He sighed. “It’s 2XXX, kid. Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

Andrés’s mind worked quickly. If he remembered correctly from the anime, the U.A. entrance exam happened in February. If it was January…

I’m approximately one month before the canon starts. One month before everything begins.

“No, I’m fine,” Andrés shook his head. “Thanks for worrying.”

“Tch. Whatever,” the guy grunted and walked away, muttering loudly about “weird brats with mental Quirks who don’t know how to control them” and “they should go to special schools.”

Andrés looked around again. This world. These people with Quirks walking around casually. This power flowing in his veins.

Telepathy. Telekinesis. One month before canon. And bald.

He ran a hand over his smooth head again, feeling the despair.

The first thing I’m going to do when I get money is buy wigs. Lots of wigs. I can’t be the fifteen-year-old bald protagonist. That’s too cruel.

But despite the hair tragedy, a smile formed on his face. The possibilities were infinite. He knew the story. He knew the future events. He had mental powers no one would expect.

“Charles Xavier,” Andrés said softly to the sky, though he knew he probably couldn’t hear him. “I don’t know if you can hear me wherever you are, but thank you. Thank you for the powers. Thank you for the opportunity. I promise I won’t waste this second life.”

Well, not TOTALLY. Some fun is allowed, right?

Mitsuki Bakugo had turned a corner and disappeared from sight. But something inside Andrés told him their paths would cross eventually. This was a small world of heroes.

“Though first,” he murmured, touching his bald head again with sadness, “I need to resolve this hair-related existential crisis. Fifteen years old and bald. This has to be some kind of karmic punishment for touching those breasts.”

A little boy ran past, pointed at Andrés, and said to his mom:

“Mommy, look, that boy doesn’t have any hair.”

“Don’t point, honey. It’s rude.”

“But he looks weird.”

I’m going to cry. I’m going to cry right here in the middle of the street.