Izuku's Point of View
⸻
Hikaru left an impression.
It was definitely not the kind that announces itself to the room like a blond idiotic kid with a fox in his stomach like a certain blond. More like a blade laid on a table — quiet, unassuming, but unmistakably sharp if you have the eyes for it. Every question he asked me had another question hidden underneath. Nothing invasive. Just... angled. Intentional. Like he was peeling back layers without making it feel like he was doing anything at all.
And I enjoyed it.
More than I expected.
It was refreshing to talk to someone who actually listened, who wasn't intimidated, who didn't treat me like I was porcelain or misguided for caring about things beyond my age. Hikaru had the subtlety of a veteran interrogator and the patience of someone who'd spent too long staring at truths nobody else wanted to see. It was fascinating watching him use those skills on me.
Even if he annoyed me twice during the time he has been here.
The first was when he asked about my quirk status. Mama flinched so fast I could feel the air shift beside me. That pain never truly leaves her, and seeing someone accidentally poke it always sets something tight and unpleasant in my chest. I didn't lash out, after all he didn't know — but the soldier in me bristled.
The second time was...
well...
When Mama hugged him.
I joined the hug because her heart cracked open at the memories he shared — loss recognizes loss, and I couldn't leave her alone in that moment. But it still grated at me in a strange, instinctive way. Maybe it was how startled he looked. Maybe it was because he held her like she was sunlight he'd forgotten existed. Maybe both.
Doesn't matter.
The important thing is I recognized the grief in his eyes.
It was familiar.
A kind of emptiness that never really heals.
I've seen it in men who survived firefights alone.
I've felt it in myself when I realized I'd never see my platoon again.
That's why I allowed it.
But gods, this act I have to keep up...
Playing the eager little genius with bright, harmless eyes?
It's Exhausting.
Mama knows that better than anyone.
She's seen the edges of me—sharp, cold, tactical. The part of me that calculates before I act. The part that plans responses before people finish their sentences. She's seen the anger too, the soldier in the skin of a child, and she never flinched. If anything, she squeezed me tighter in her hold.
She knows I wear different masks.
But even she wasn't prepared for the moment I let one of them slip in anger.
And it all started because of that bastard.
I can still see his face like it was burned into the inside of my skull. The smug tilt of his mouth, the grease-slick confidence of a man who thought he'd never get caught. The type who leeches off everyone beneath him and calls it leadership.
And the worst part?
He wasn't even original.
Just another parasite riding on a company he didn't build.
◇ ◆ ◇
Flashback — Two Months Ago
The alerts came in waves on my monitors—missing funds, irregular transfers, gaps in inventory accounting. The numbers were bleeding out in places that didn't make sense.
A factory we bought early on.
Old, struggling, but salvageable.
Or so I thought.
But the deeper I dug, the clearer it became:
The place wasn't failing because of the economy, or the equipment, or the workers.
It was failing because the manager was funneling money into his own pockets long before I even bought the company for myself.
I sat at my desk, teeth set, fingers tapping the armrest. "Unbelievable. The moment I give this place a chance to rebuild, I find a rat dragging cash into the walls."
Mama looked up from the kitchen counter when I called her.
"Ma, we need to visit the textile factory," I said, sliding my tablet toward her. "The numbers aren't just suspicious, he is outright stealing from us. And from the workers."
Her expression hardened at the word stealing. She came over, scanned the screen, and her eyes narrowed.
"This has been happening... since before you bought it?"
"Yes," I said, voice flattening with irritation. "He's the reason that building was circling the drain."
I stood, swinging my backpack on with practiced ease. "We need to remove him. Today. You're the public CEO, which makes this your call."
She blinked at me—not confused, but studying. Like she was measuring the temperature of my voice.
Too sharp. Too controlled.
So I adjusted my speech.
I let my eyes widen slightly, tilted my head, softened my tone just enough.
"He's a bad guy, Mama. A villain who steals. That's... wrong. He needs to be fired. Arrested, even. I thought of different ways to deal with it, but this one works best."
Her face softened instantly.
She exhaled. "I understand. Really, I do. I've dealt with something similar before at the clinic. That was... not a good time."
Her hand brushed through my hair. "But it's one of the reasons I agreed to become your stand-in CEO. My little angel needed someone he trusted to protect his work."
Then she grinned—a spark of mischief lighting behind her eyes.
"So," she said brightly, "let's go kick that bad man to the curb."
I couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled out. She joined me soon after, our voices mixing in harmony as always.
Moments like these made everything else worth it.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The factory loomed ahead when we arrived—big, loud, alive with activity. The guards stopped us immediately, confusion flashing across their faces.
"N-No visitors allowed—this is a private facility. Please step back."
Mama tilted her head politely. "I'm Inko Midoriya. CEO of Stark Industries. I believe I'm allowed in?"
The guards stared at us as if we told them the sky was red.
Then they shook their heads.
"Ma'am... the previous owners never introduced the CEO. You might be an impersonator."
Mama didn't miss a beat. She simply pulled out her phone, scrolled twice, and called the head of security.
"Mr. Takeno? Yes, it's Inko. I'm at the front gate. Could you inform your guards that I am, in fact, me?"
A muffled shout echoed from the guard's earpiece. They both went pale, bowed, apologized about six times, and scrambled to let us through.
Inside, the workers stared as we made our way through the factory.
Whispers spread like sparks on dry grass.
"That's her?"
"The new CEO?"
"She's... younger than I expected."
"Is that her kid?"
"I heard she saved the company..."
Mama walked forward with the confidence of someone stepping into familiar territory. Shoulders straight. Chin lifted. The air around her shifted around her in a way I have never seen before.
Mama was usually gentle. Soft-spoken. Shy in crowds.
But now?
She was presenting herself as a leader.
Seeing her like that hit me harder than expected.
She was stepping into a role that had always been waiting for her and it was just waiting for her to step up into it.
I adjusted my expression into the perfect neutral curiosity of a child—the kind who watches but doesn't understand. Internally, my mind mapped the room, the workers, the exits.
The second-in-command hurried toward us, bowing deeply.
"Ms. Midoriya! We—uh—we weren't expecting you! H-How can we assist?"
Mama smiled politely. "I would like every employee gathered here. Now, please."
He blinked. "H-Here? In the factory hall?"
"Yes," she answered simply.
He bowed again with almost painful enthusiasm. "Right away! Everyone — mandatory meeting! New CEO is here!"
He took off running, shouting the announcement through every corridor.
When he was out of earshot, Mama deflated like a balloon.
She sagged forward, puffing her cheeks. "Izuku... pretending to be stern is so tiring."
I snorted, covering my mouth. "You're doing great. And remember—"
I lowered my voice.
"We're the ones in control. No one else."
Her cheeks puffed again, but this time she smiled.
.
.
.
.
The workers gathered quickly—line workers, foremen, office staff. A soft wave of chatter filled the space until Mama stepped forward.
Silence rippled outward.
Then he arrived.
The manager of this place.
He was late, sweating, and he was trying too hard to look calm.
One look told me everything I needed to know.
Greed clung to him like grease on professors Snape's hair. His eyes scanned the crowd and halted on Mama he then slowly started to drag his eyes up and down like he was appraising merchandise.
My jaw clenched so hard it clicked.
If Mama hadn't been beside me, my bracers would have hummed with a good enough charge to kill him slowly.
But I'd never seen her react how she reacted next tho.
Her expression turned to ice.
It was cold, flat, and detached.
He smirked, stepping toward her with a sleazy, faux-friendly swagger.
"You must be the new owner," he said, voice dripping false warmth. " I was not informed that someone so lovely would be taking over~"
Mama didn't even blink.
"State your name," she said flatly.
That shut him up.
He stuttered it out, thrown completely off balance.
She nodded once. "Good. Before we continue, my son will introduce himself."
I stepped forward.
"My name is Midoriya Izuku. I'm six years old. And I'm quirk-less it is a pleasure to meet you."
The reaction was instant.
Some workers wilted, pitying.
Others frowned, confused but not unkind.
A few — the good ones — nodded with genuine acceptance.
Those faces? I stored them in my mind after all they could be people worth investing in. After all those who have no prejudice are the people I care about the most.
But the manager...
His eyes burned with pure disgust, and hatred.
Like my existence was an insult to his perfect little world.
Mama saw it too. Her aura sharpened like a blade the instant she noticed it.
She didn't even give him time to speak.
"I am here today," she said clearly, "to address theft in my company."
A ripple of unease ran through the crowd.
She continued, voice steady. "After reviewing our financial records, we discovered extensive embezzlement. The person responsible has been siphoning money for years, even before we bought this factory from the previous company."
Then came the murmurs, shocked expressions, and of course the anger that is always quick to arrive after shock.
She looked directly at the manager.
"You are fired. Effective immediately. The police have been notified. They will escort you from the premises."
He exploded.
"WHAT?! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME, YOU—"
Then he said it.
The sentence that shattered any restraint I had left.
"You slutty bitch—
the only thing you and your useless quirkless brat are good for
is being hire—"
The world snapped.
A thin, crystalline fracture ran through the moment — through the air, through my patience, through the last thread holding me back.
The second that foul, greasy voice called my mother a slut—and dared to speak about her and me in the same breath as his sick fantasies—
My body moved.
I didn't think.
I acted on pure instinct.
My rage made into a weapon.
Everything around me blurred into streaks of color, but my target stayed sharp. The man's face twisted in mid-insult, lips curled, spit gathering at the corner of his mouth.
I crossed the distance before anyone inhaled.
My heel crashed into his knee.
The crack was sharp and ugly. His leg buckled inward, sending him collapsing like a cheap tent. Before gravity dragged him fully down, I planted my foot on his thigh and used him like a step, springing upward.
His howl barely started before my second kick slammed into his forearm.
Another snap was heard loud and clear.
Then another scream strangled in his throat.
My small frame twisted mid-air, my momentum carrying me on top of him. On the descent, my hand fisted his hair. I yanked with my full force, driving his head toward the concrete.
His face hit the floor with a wet, crunching impact as his nose was heard shattering on impact, teeth skidding across tile, his breath choking as blood surged from the broken cartilage.
The room went dead silent.
I landed in a crouch beside him, one hand still gripping his hair, the other planted on the ground for balance. My breath was as steady as ever.
He whimpered beneath me, one arm twisted at a sick angle, knee bent slightly wrong, face leaking red. He was conscious, but barely.
Good.
He needed to hear me.
I leaned close, voice low enough to slice.
"I can tolerate many things in this world," I whispered, each syllable dipped in ice, "but no one, no one! Insults my mother!"
The temperature in the factory seemed to drop.
Boots shuffled.
Gloves trembled.
People took an instinctive steps back, as if shadows were crawling up their ankles.
Mama's voice broke the stillness.
"...Izuku?"
Soft.
Stunned.
Shaken in a way I'd never heard from her before.
I didn't look at her yet.
My eyes stayed locked on the trembling mess beneath my boot.
"You failed this factory," I said, tone emotionless. "You failed the workers who trusted you. You stole from families who needed those wages to survive. And you did it without remorse."
He whimpered something unintelligible.
I tightened my grip in his hair and forced his head up an inch, making sure he saw my expression.
"This ends today."
I released him with a shove, letting his skull thud back onto the floor. Then I stood up, brushed imaginary dust off my pants, and turned toward the guards.
My voice cut clean through the space.
"Remove him. Now. Before I do something that requires paperwork."
Neither guard met my eyes.
Both moved at once — grabbing the broken, sputtering man by the arms as gently as possible, mostly because touching him seemed safer than offending me. He barked in pain, but they didn't stop. They dragged him toward the exit with the urgency of men fleeing a cursed shrine.
As soon as the doors slammed behind them, silence hovered again.
I let out a long breath — deliberate, controlled — and allowed the icy mantle around me to melt.
My shoulders loosened.
The soldier slid back behind his curtain.
And I turned toward the crowd with the warmest smile I could manage.
Then I bowed.
Deed and Respectful.
"I apologize for my behavior," I said brightly, voice smooth and childlike again. "I shouldn't have reacted like that... but he insulted my mother. I couldn't let that stand."
A hush fell over the workers.
Then I added, lifting one finger as if remembering something important:
"It would also help me a lot if nobody talked about what just happened. If you keep this to yourselves..." My grin widened innocently. "I'll convince Mama to give everyone a raise."
The crowd erupted.
"We saw NOTHING!"
"What kick? Who got hit?"
"Manager? Never heard of him!"
"Protective kid? Fantastic!"
"He deserved worse!"
"That was incredible!"
"Bless the new CEO and her scary kid!"
Several workers bowed to Mama. Others laughed nervously, relief blooming through the room.
A few fist-pumped like they had just witnessed divine justice.
I scratched my cheek shyly. "Thank you, everyone."
I finally met Mama's eyes.
Her shock lingered for a breath, then melted into something warm and painfully soft. I stepped forward, bowed deeply, hands at my sides, and my back straight.
"Mama... I'm sorry," I said quietly. "But I couldn't let him call you that. Anyone who talks about you like that deserves to be punished."
For a heartbeat, she simply stared at me.
Then she laughed—a bright, breathy sound—and swept me straight into her arms.
"My little guardian angel defended my honor!" she declared, spinning me a quarter turn before hugging me again. "Such a tiny storm, protecting his Mama like a knight!"
"M-Mama—!" Heat shot up my neck.
Her fingers attacked my ribs without mercy.
"Mama, no—! P-please—!"
"You were so brave!" she teased. "So fierce! So angry in my place—my hero!"
"Mama stop—this is illegal—!!"
Workers around us started laughing—loud, unfiltered amusement shaking the tension out of the room.
"Hey!!" I shouted, squirming helplessly while she kept tickling. "Someone help! I'm being tortured! This is cruel and unusual punishment!"
A welder wiped his eyes. "Kid, after what you did to that guy? You'll live."
Another cackled, "I value my life, young master. No way I'm stepping between a mom and her child."
A third crossed his arms proudly. "Consider this your rite of passage. Every kid gets embarrassed by their mom. You're just ahead of schedule."
"TRAITORS!" I yelled, kicking the air. "You're all traitors to justice! This should count as a war crime!"
This just made them laugh harder.
Mama finally eased up, snickering softly as she pinched both my cheeks.
"And where," she asked playfully, "did you learn how to do that?"
She angled her head toward the exit, where the unconscious heap of a man was hauled away.
I rubbed my cheeks, trying to look dignified despite still dangling from her hug. "I've been watching videos online... fight analysis channels, self-defense tutorials, breakdowns on leverage and center of gravity. I know I won't be the strongest, so I'm learning how to use what I have. My size, my speed, timing."
I shrugged, shy but honest. "Some videos helped me... figure out what works well for me."
Mama's expression softened. "Of course you did," she murmured, brushing my hair back.
Everything around us blurred slightly as the memory thinned at the edges, softening into something almost sweet.
And then—
I blinked.
The factory faded like a slow dissolving picture, colors draining back into my bedroom's warm light. I sat there for a moment, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
"...Yeah, in all honesty I thought mama would react differently...." I thought to myself.
Mama sitting next to me suddenly gasped.
"Oh my goodness—it's already four o'clock! I have to start dinner!" She then stoop up and started walking to the kitchen in the other room.
Hikaru straightened from his seat across from me, halfway into a polite decline. "I—I should get going. I wouldn't want to intru—"
Mama cut him off before he could finish.
"Absolutely not." She wagged a finger at him. "You've been talking to us for this long and you still haven't explained the 'opportunity' you mentioned in your letter. I'm not letting you escape before telling me how it will benefit my baby."
She winked.
A full, exaggerated wink.
The glare that detonated behind my eyes could've melted concrete.
And the worst part?
Hikaru flushed pink.
Pink.
Like some lovestruck high school girl in a romance anime.
That made something sour coil in my chest.
Mama left for the kitchen humming happily, and the moment she stepped out of the living room the air shifted.
Warmth left with her.
Politeness remained in the air, but the space between us changed to something sharper. Time to see what type of predator is in front of me.