The room was still, the faint sound of the TV filling the silence. Izuku—no, I—was sitting on the floor, knees hugged to my chest. Inko had finally left to wipe her tears in the kitchen. Her soft footsteps faded away, leaving me in a hollow bubble of my own thoughts.
My tiny heart pounded a little too loudly in my chest.
I exhaled slowly.
So I'm the main character. Izuku Midoriya. And I have to defeat Shigaraki someday…
Just thinking about that monster sent a chill down my spine. In the anime—my memories—Shigaraki wasn't just evil; he was an unstoppable force. Even Deku, with his absurd growth rate and plot armor, struggled against him.
He's a pain in the ass even for canon Deku…
I rubbed my temples with small fingers.
This felt like a nightmare written by an author who hated me.
Hey, but original Deku could only control up to 45% of One For All by the end if I remember right…
Hell, I wasn't even sure about the exact percentages. I watched the show, yes, but I wasn't some hardcore wiki nerd who memorized every frame.
I may be a nerd, but not on the same level as original Izuku… I can't use the quirk like he does… All that analysis? I only remember the general stuff…
I snorted softly.
Fine. I'll just copy him. That's the plan. Monkey see, monkey do.
It sounded stupid, but honestly?
It was probably the best possible idea I had.
But then… a darker thought hit.
Wait… if I interfere too much… All Might might not give One For All to me.
That would be bad.
No—catastrophic.
Without OFA, the timeline collapses.
Shigaraki wins.
All Might dies early.
The world ends.
That wasn't a possibility; that was a guarantee.
So I had to act carefully.
Nudge the story.
Not break it.
I dragged a hand down my face.
This was too much responsibility for a four-year-old. Or an adult trapped inside one.
Footsteps approached outside the apartment door, followed by voices—high, excited, childish.
Then—
"Hey, Deku!"
I flinched.
That voice was unmistakable.
Explosive, loud, confident.
Katsuki Bakugo.
I stood up instinctively—maybe the body remembered him before my mind did. I stepped outside into the apartment corridor, and there they were: Bakugo and his two childhood followers, Tsubasa and Yamakawa, peering up with eager eyes.
"Kacchan," I replied cheerfully, surprising even myself.
I blinked.
I called him Kacchan instinctively… damn. That's how deeply this body remembers him. How much he means to original Izuku…
Bakugo marched up to me, still short but full of attitude.
"You got your quirk?" he demanded, hands on his hips.
I inhaled sharply.
Here it comes.
"No… Kacchan. I'm quirkless. The doctor said I might not have a quirk."
For a moment, the hallway was silent.
Then they laughed.
All three of them.
"Seriously? You know how to joke too, Deku!" Bakugo snorted, wrapping an arm around my shoulder like we were best friends.
I stayed silent.
Bakugo paused, noticing my expression.
"Oi. Are you serious right now?" he asked, voice sharpening.
"Yeah," I said quietly.
His red eyes widened the slightest bit—shock, then annoyance, then… something else.
"Izuku…" Bakugo said, far more serious than any four-year-old should be. "Be honest with me… what about our dream? Our dream to be pro heroes?"
I froze.
This… wasn't in the original timeline.
In canon, Bakugo never asked Izuku something this vulnerable, this honest, this raw.
Four-year-old Kacchan was ambitious, prideful, explosive—but he loved the idea of becoming a hero more than anything. And he saw me—I mean Izuku—as part of that dream.
Just not for long.
I swallowed hard.
Before I could answer, one of the kids behind him whispered:
"Huh, so Deku is really a deku now…"
Bakugo spun around instantly.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" he yelled, fists sparking dangerously for a child his age.
The boy shrieked and ducked behind Tsubasa, who quickly backed up.
Bakugo's face twisted—a mix of rage and… something like fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
So this is it…
This is why Izuku got bullied in the first place. He cried. He broke down. And Bakugo—being Bakugo—tried to push him to be strong through the worst method possible. By being tough on him. Too tough.
But this time…
This me won't cry.
I straightened myself, taking a slow breath.
"Even so…" I said, looking him in the eye. "I'll still become a hero, Kacchan."
Bakugo blinked.
Then—slowly—a proud grin spread across his face.
"That's my Deku!"
He slung his arm back around me, rough but affectionate.
Then he leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially:
"The doctor said you might be quirkless, right? So maybe you're a late bloomer!"
Tsubasa nodded eagerly. "Yeah! My cousin manifested at six!"
"See?" Bakugo said, smug and confident again. "From now on, we'll train so you can unlock your quirk."
A familiar warmth tugged at my chest.
Even knowing the monster he grows into for a few years, this moment…
This pure, hopeful, childish version of Bakugo…
It felt painfully precious.
Something original Izuku treasured deep inside himself.
"Yeah, Kacchan," I said softly, a genuine smile forming. "Let's become the greatest heroes… together."
He didn't hesitate.
Bakugo's grin was bright enough to challenge the sun.
"Damn right we will!"
He raised his fist.
I bumped it with mine.
Behind him, the other kids stared at me with wide eyes—not mocking anymore, but… curious. Respectful. Maybe confused at how unfazed I was.
We walked down the street together, Bakugo rambling about quirks and explosions and his inevitable future as the Number One Hero. His friends followed behind us, whispering and pointing as if I had just transformed into someone new—which, in a way, I had.
Every step I took felt unreal.
Like I was walking in the very footsteps of a destiny already written… and rewriting them with each breath.
My thoughts drifted as Bakugo jabbered on.
This is really happening…
I'm in MHA. I'm Izuku. And I have to follow the story… but also change it enough to survive.
Every villain.
Every attack.
Every death flag.
I would face all of them.
I glanced at Bakugo beside me—the kid who would become my rival, my tormentor, my friend, and my greatest reminder of how human this world truly was.
Across the street, I saw Inko watching through the window, tears still staining her cheeks—but smiling now, relieved that I was talking, laughing, not breaking down like the original Izuku did.
I waved to her.
She waved back, hand trembling but hopeful.
And then the realization hit me like a punch:
This is the story of how I—some nobody who wasn't special in my world—became the hero of this world.
A world that needed saving.
A world that would test me.
A world where heroes fell and villains rose.
A world where fate was already written…
But now?
Now I was here.
A tiny spark ignited inside me.
Something warm.
Something fierce.
I was quirkless.
Weak.
Unprepared.
But I had one thing no one else did—
A second life.
And I would not waste it.