A/N: Okay, let's do this again.

In case someone is new to this, let me first say, welcome! And to those who come from 'Guardian Angel' and are familiar with my works, welcome back!

This is technically a revamp of my previous fanfiction 'Guardian Angel' - an admittedly lax but surprisingly supported fic of mine, SI and with heavy AU in the horizon. However, due to personal circumstances, 'Guardian Angel' will be marked as DISCONTINUED/COMPLETE, with 'Unwanted Second Chance' being the improved version.

Well, I say 'improved', but it's mostly all changed with some resemblances with 'Guardian Angel'. There will still be a male, Self-Insert reincarnated Original Character in the My Hero Academia universe, sure - and most if not all the past-life background I'd planned for Enzeru (most of which had remained unrevealed) will be applicable for this character as well. Also, this fic will be heavily AU - I'll deal with the headaches as they come.

However, the rest will be changed. From his appearance, name and Quirk (still debating if he should have one or two), to his personality, his relationships with his family and the canon characters - heck, even his goal to wanting to become whatever he wants to become will be put in a different light than Hoseki's.

In that regard, I apologize to all the readers that wished to just enjoy a better version of 'Guardian Angel' in hopes of seeing an improved Hoseki Enzeru. I did explain my reasons why I just couldn't continue writing 'Guardian Angel', but I sincerely hope that this new fanfic of mine will fill the boots.

So! Let's get this show on the road, shall we? Ahem...

DISCLAIMER: My Hero Academia and all its characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi. All changed scenes and new characters belong to me. The cover image also doesn't belong to me, but to whomever posted it on Google Image. This fic is rated T because of potential dark themes and Katsuki's and my character's potty mouths. Enjoy!

[EDIT 05/09/2020: Chapter 1 Eliminated Character Sheet.]

[EDIT 05/22/2020: Added Voltaire's Quote. Minor grammar changes.]

PROLOGUE

"I have wanted to kill myself a hundred times, but somehow I am still in love with life. This ridiculous weakness is perhaps one of our more stupid melancholy propensities, for is there anything more stupid than to be eager to go on carrying a burden which one would gladly throw away, to loathe one's very being and yet to hold it fast, to fondle the snake that devours us until it has eaten our hearts away?" ― Voltaire, Candide: or, Optimism

'This is it.'

Thunder cracked overhead, briefly showing the dark exterior of the abandoned warehouse. Rain fell heavily, soaking the black-clad figure standing before the building to the bone. Around him, other buildings lay in various states of decay, time and nature having corroded most of them. Behind him, in the distance, the broken Statue of Liberty rested on its side, the arm that once held the torch still pointed up, defiantly but useless at the same time. The whole city of New York, once called the 'City that Never Sleeps', now slept in its defeat - to be never awoken again. The people that once inhabited it had long abandoned its streets, laying underground - one way or the other, to escape the merciless onslaught of nature against humanity.

It was a terrible day to stay outside the shelters, overall. But still, the lonely figure standing on his own felt nothing of the storm's fury. Undaunted by the wind whipping at his face, threatening to blow him away each time it gushed violently, the figure only moved to check his weapon - a simple pocket knife, spotted with rust and dried blood that refused to come off no matter how many times he washed it, but trusty and easy to wield. More than enough for what he planned to do.

For a moment, as his reflection on the knife returned empty eyes at him, it seemed his own flickered with some kind of emotion. Doubt filled him for a moment, hesitant thoughts of what he was about to do crossing through his mind in a flash. He knew it was crazy, and reckless. If he weren't on his own, if he brought someone of his own squad, he'd be less likely to die - for defying the Blazing Skulls and fighting them on their own turf was nothing but suicide.

But as quickly as that thought came through his mind, he discarded it, forcing it to recall the reason he'd come here - alone, not saying a word to anyone but his own boss, and wielding nothing but a simple pocket knife.

A face, still and pale in death, open eyes unseeing but fixed in the ceiling, sporting a smirk nonetheless in a small rictus of defiance. He hadn't seen his body, mangled in a bloody mess beyond recognition - that hadn't made a difference when the only doctor they had on the squad confirmed his death with a grim tone. He'd come too late to save him - too late to at least be there, as he'd promised he'd do.

Another thunder cracked, the light blinding the scene for a moment - and when it finally dulled out, the figure had begun moving slowly towards the warehouse's massive doors, limbs moving mechanically. He held no thought but the face of that person that he once loved, the only one that moved him to survive past this bloody apocalypse, the one that anchored him to sanity, and to life.

The figure stopped for a second, raised his head towards the sky, and then drew out a long sigh, letting the raindrops roll off his face. It felt soothing, but not enough to wash out the grief that gripped at his heart, or to soften the rage flaring at his veins. The figure felt awake, aware of his surroundings. But he refocused to the task at hand - his feet regained movement once more, slow at first but picking up speed, the edge of his vision slowly turning red.

For the first time in his life, he purposefully ignored all hidden entrances that could be hidden around the warehouse - his attention all but zeroed-in on the massive doors before him, the knife held tightly in his hand. He'd been trained to infiltrate other scavengers' teams via old airducts and other possible entrances - it went against all his training and his instincts to go through the front door like a suicidal moron.

...

Then again, he knew that once he came in, he wouldn't come out alive. And he was fine with that.

'I'll see you soon, Archie.'

Darkness.

For a long time, all is dark. Heavy, oppressing, all-encompassing darkness - a shroud covering everything. Time holds no meaning here. Nothing breaks the blackness, all sense of being lost in the vast expanse of endless void.

It is maddening.

Here, in this space that was no space at the same time, something lurks. It has no conscience, no body, no recollection of anything but the void around it, but exists nonetheless.

That something felt a foreign presence though - a mere blip in the vastness of its home.

And then, after an indefinite amount of time the being doesn't bother to check, it is gone.

The being goes back to sleep, unbothered once more.

The first thing that broke through the darkness was a woman's percing scream.

The second, the feeling of being squished and manhandled and slimy all over.

The third, however, was the kicker - I couldn't breathe.

No matter how much I tried to get my fucking lungs to function, no air would come in! I tried to move, but I was too tightly grabbed to do anything but flail my arms with a weakness I hadn't known in years.

Then I was flipped over with practiced ease, and a mighty force slammed into my back, once, twice. A thick wad of something flew out of my mouth, the thing clogging my throat finally releasing it - I gratefully gulped in the precious air, before proceeding to lash out with pretty colorful words.

Imagine my surprise when, instead of words, all that came out of my mouth - for where could it have come from? - was a mighty wail that turned up in volume like a siren. My lips didn't move the way I wanted them to, my tongue having apparently lost all kinds of force to articulate words, and my teeth - Wait, where were my teeth!?

Now I simply screamed, with even more force than before, ignoring any and all things around me. I shrieked even as I felt the slimy viscosity in my body being washed away by gentle but firm hands - giant hands, stronger than I was at any rate. I think at some point I managed to land a punch on the hand holding me, but it came out as something a little less than a mere love tap.

It wasn't until I was wrapped in what I imagine was a thick blanket and laid down that my mind finally booted up.

What the hell was going on right now? Why was everyone apparently ginormous compared to me? Where did all my strength go all of a sudden?

Where the ever-loving-fuck was I!?

There were voices all around me, all talking at the same time in a language I didn't know, the arms holding me rocking me back and forth gently in an attempt to soothe me from my crying fit. It didn't help with my growing anxiety that I couldn't open my eyelids and at least see my surroundings. I was terrified beyond belief, and almost a hundred percent sure that I cried myself to sleep, due to exhaustion and the shock of what I've been through.

That was how I came to life once more, in the form of a newborn baby.

Apart from that first day, overall I wasn't a very fussy baby. I usually slept a lot, and while awake I'd be busy looking at my surroundings with my extremely poor vision.

This new world was... odd, and way too different from whatever experience I had before. From what little snippets I could get from my home, it was way too defenseless - no barred windows or doors, no crates or anything to store weapons, but a lot of ammenities lying here and there. Some I knew (or at least guessed) the name of, because I'd seen their chaffs among the waste and trash in my old life - but others I didn't even know what they were used for. The house seemed massive, intact furniture lying around not haphazardly, but actually standing instead of holding off doors as barricades. The walls were painted instead of chipped and moldy, covered in pastel colors - not ideal for camouflage, but as long as it wasn't the clothes, it was fine by me.

And it was all so clean and bright! Of everything, I think that was what shocked me the most. There was no rain, no thunderclouds - just small wisps in the blue sky that could barely be called clouds at all. The air was crisp and easy to breathe, no sign of that asphyxiating ash that used to cover my city when it wasn't rain. The heat of the sun on my skin felt unlike anything I've felt before, warm but not scorching hot, soothing in a way that nothing could emulate.

When I first felt it on my skin, I cried. My mother fussed all over me in a panic, not knowing what triggered my sudden weeping, but I didn't care. It was the first time actual sun-rays touched my skin, and it even surpassed my highest expectations.

In a cold world, you need warmth. It took me dying to realize that.

Time flew by.

The novelty and wonder of the few past weeks had quickly worn off, replaced by the same spinning thoughts that plagued my mind the first time I arrived here. Nothing around me was familiar, no one I could recognize. Only knowing that I was alone in this foreign world was more than I could cope with. The fact that I would never see those I knew - Boss, Spinet, Danny, Archie! - it broke my heart in ways I didn't even dare to fathom.

I was on my own.

Needless to say, I seethed for those weeks. I wanted to fight, to scream, to lash out at whatever thing that put me in here - when I obviously wanted to just end it. Any ambitions I had in life had been destroyed when the last real connection I had, just ended. Nothing kept me alive in there, and I'd intended to go down doing a good deed for the fellow survivors - destroying scavenger squads. By returning to life, all noble intentions I'd had - the rest I deserved - had just been taken away from me.

I'd wanted to see Archie again.

Now here I was - wherever 'here' meant - without Archie, in a foreign place. On my own.

... This fucking sucks.

Something was wrong with my mother.

I hadn't even noticed it before, but as I slowly turned about four months old - enough to stop wanting to break something, but still angry at the world in general - I began being more aware of my surroundings. Not that I hadn't been before - I'd just made sure I was in a protected area before venting out on my thoughts. But anything else? The fact that apparently I had a new life, and subsequently a new family, and a potential future to take care of?

That, my mind didn't quite register until I noticed what was wrong with the woman that was apparently my 'mother'.

At first it hadn't been that noticeable, so of course it slipped my mind. But, as time went on, and I began observing her more closely, I noticed strange occurrences around her. For example, as she moved around the kitchen, the cabinet behind her would shake a bit - or, when she wanted to grab something from an overhead shelf, it would move on its own so that she could reach it. I even saw the TV controller float up towards her while she was resting on the sofa!

Needless to say, I came from a world where unnatural happenings like that were unthinkable. So of course I watched with huge eyes as she just kept doing those small things, as naturally as breathing.

I did notice that those strange moments were scarce, and she didn't move large objects at once - each time she had to, however, she would visibly weaken, to the point that she had headaches. Not that she made it that obvious, to be honest. She merely cursed a bit under her breath with a grimace and a hand to the forehead - ergo, headaches. It baffled me how naturally she did those things - sometimes she didn't even look when she moved stuff around - but in time I suppose I grew used to it.

Strange occurrences aside, my mother was a kind woman that clearly loved me - or so I suppose. I have near zero experience regarding parenting, seeing as in my past life both my parents died before the Great Storm - so the first real experience I had with parental love was with this woman. She had soft hands and a smile permanently etched on her face whenever she saw my attention on her. She had beautiful light green eyes and hair as dark as coal barely reaching her chin, pale skin and an average body neither too chubby or too slim, somewhere in the middle. She had a beauty mark under her left eye.

Lately she'd been teaching me to talk. Or rather, she was trying to get me to say my first word.

"Jiki-chan~" She'd pout adorably while laying on her stomach in front of me, trying to tickle me with her nimble fingers in my tummy. With no success. "Jiki-chan, hanashitakunai no? Mama ni hanashikaketakunai~?"

Jiki. She said that word so many times, I assumed it was my name - the name she'd chosen for me anyways. It sounded strange to my ears, as if it didn't belong to me - and in a way, it didn't. I still retained memories of my past life, the man I once was... Somehow, accepting my new identity felt like a betrayal to that past life, to those past memories. A betrayal of myself.

"Jiki-chan~!" My mother brought me to the present and smiled warmly at me. Then she pointed at her face with her finger. "Mama."

I blinked. Was it that important to her that I call her my mother?

"Ichido dake itte kudasai, Jiki-chan." She was visibly more upset, but tried to keep smiling and getting me to talk. "Nande hanasanai no?"

I blinked again before glancing around, looking for an escape route. I knew what she wanted me to do, but I didn't know if I was prepared to fully accept this new life of mine. I found the rattle she bought me two weeks ago and crawled to it, shaking it distractedly to appear more babyish than I really was. I'd seen lots of toys of this kind in my past life - I even brought one when little Nadine was born and had to be distracted somehow.

Apparently she gave up, because she sighed before standing up. I observed her moving around, mumbling to herself - not angrily, I noticed, but rather sad. She picked up a picture frame from a nearby table and flopped down on the couch, looking down at it. She didn't quite cry, but the mood around her had practically dropped - even someone clueless could see it.

... Wow, now I felt like a jerk. I frowned down at my rattle, before looking back at the woman.

Identity crisis or not, this woman didn't deserve my cold shoulder like that. Considering the lack of male presence in the house, my father wasn't around - that meant my mother was taking care of me and herself all on her own. She didn't leave the house for work, but I did see her spending a lot of time on a computer - of a slicker design that I was used to, and running much smoother than I thought (understandable, considering world-wide connection dropped and overall electric systems were crap back in my own world). She seemed to be doing pretty well, but I didn't know if that would last long. This woman had undoubtedly sacrificed a lot so that the two of us could live decently. And now here I was, being a jerk to her.

I sighed inwardly, and laid down my rattle. The least I could do, I thought, was humor her.

She didn't look at me as I crawled towards her (I really need to start figuring out how to walk, if only to get rid of the humiliation of dragging myself on the floor), and laid a chubby hand on her leg. Her eyes stared without seeing at the photo frame she held, unmoving. I tugged on her pant leg, but she didn't react.

Well, there goes nothing.

"Mama."

It said a lot of my past life that I managed to say the word "Mama" perfectly on my first try. Maybe I should've dumbed it down a little.

The woman visibly froze, her eyes snapping back to life. Did I break her?

"Mama." This time, I added a tug to my calling.

The world suddenly blurred into motion when she suddenly swept me up in her arms, bringing me to her chest so tight it made a bit difficult to breathe. I worried about being smothered to death by my mother so soon after being returned to life, so I protested with a weak voice.

"Jiki-chan..." She breathed into my surprisingly thick hair, the tell-tale feeling of tears freezing me. "Aishiteru, Jiki-chan..."

My eyes widened, and suddenly all worries I had about asphyxiation left me. This woman was suffering, that much I could tell, but somehow that word filled me with something I hadn't felt before. That sensation, I realized, guided every step of hers whenever she was around me - even when she changed my diapers or fed me, she exuded that aura, one I couldn't quite name. One that made me felt secure, and protected.

It was with those thoughts that filled my mind, that I genuinely called for her for the third time. "Mama."

And she sobbed even harder, squeezing me tighter, but with a smile I could feel on my scalp as she pressed a kiss to it.

I'll think about this later, I thought contentedly, snuggling into her arms in seek of more warmth.

Right now, life was good enough.

A/N: And that's it for now!

So, this is my new character. He's just been introduced, but how do you guys like him so far?

And I lied a bit - not all of Enzeru's background will be present in Jiki's. For one, Jiki comes from an alternate Earth, pretty similar to "The Day After Tomorrow" but with all kinds of natural disasters going on for nearly forty years. So, Jiki's past character (that I'll call X 'cause I don't know how to call him yet) has been living in that hell for thirty years before dying and reincarnating in Jiki. But that's the only difference, I promise!

I'll be making small jumps in time regarding Jiki's childhood. Not too massive, because I'll add some changes to canon through those snippets, but don't be confused when they happen.

Another thing I forgot to mention, there will be also warnings at the beginning of some chapters whenever I judge they cover some extremely sensitive topics. Nothing too outrageous, but I prefer to be cautious about these things. Let's just say, X didn't have a happy life.

That's all then. Best of luck out there guys, and stay safe as always.

See you in the next chapter of 'Unwanted Second Chance'!