The park felt different today. I noticed it immediately when I arrived with my mother. The usual noise and energy of kids playing were still there, but there was a heaviness to the air.
Izuku sat alone on a bench, shoulders hunched, staring at his shoes.
I knew before I even got close with the way the way he wouldn't look up and the absence of his usual notebook that he felt defeated.
"Izuku?" I sat down next to him. "You went to the doctor?"
He nodded slowly, not saying anything.
"And?"
His voice came out small and broken. "Extra toe joint. The doctor said... said people with quirks don't have it. But I do. So I'm... I'm quirkless."
The words hung between us.
I wanted to say something comforting, something inspiring. But what could I say that wouldn't sound hollow? That wouldn't minimize what he was feeling?
"That sucks," I said instead.
He let out a choked laugh. "Yeah. It really does."
"You still want to be a hero?"
"I don't know." He finally looked at me, and his eyes were red from crying. "How can I? Everyone says it's impossible. Even my mom... she didn't say I couldn't, but she cried and said sorry like it's something to apologize for."
Like he's broken. Like he's less than.
"Listen to me," I said, turning to face him fully. "You're not broken. You're not less than anyone. You're smart, you're determined, you notice things other people miss. Those are strengths too."
"But without a quirk—"
"Without a quirk, it'll be harder. I'm not gonna lie to you. But impossible? No. Not if you're willing to work for it differently than everyone else."
Izuku wiped his eyes. "You really think so?"
"I know so. You're my friend, Izuku. And I don't make friends with people who give up easily."
For the first time that afternoon, he smiled. Small and fragile, but real.
That's when Bakugo showed up.
He wasn't alone this time. Two other boys flanked him - one with small wings sprouting from his back, the other who kept stretching his fingers in and out like he was showing off.
I'd seen Bakugo in different moods over the past year. Excited, competitive, aggressive, thoughtful. But I'd never seen him look like this.
He looked angry and cold in a way that felt directed at something.
He walked right up to us, hands in his pockets, and looked at Izuku with something like disgust. His two followers hung back slightly, watching.
"So it's true," he said. "You're really quirkless."
Izuku flinched. "Kacchan—"
"Don't call me that. We're not friends anymore."
The casual cruelty of it hit like a physical blow. I felt Izuku tense beside me, saw his hands clench into fists.
"What's your problem?" I asked, keeping my voice level.
Bakugo's red eyes flicked to me. "My problem? My problem is, Deku here keeps pretending he can be a hero when he's got nothing. It's pathetic."
The winged kid, apparently feeling brave, chimed in. "Yeah! You can't be a hero without a quirk! That's just dumb!"
"Super dumb," the finger-stretching kid added, making his fingers long to emphasize his point.
"He's four years old," I said. "We're all toddlers for crying out loud, nobody can even be a hero yet."
"I will be. I've got the best quirk, the best grades, the best everything. And Deku's got nothing. He should just accept it and stop embarrassing himself."
"Yeah!" the winged kid echoed, though he sounded less certain than before.
Izuku stood up suddenly. "I'm not embarrassing! I can still try! All Might never gives up, and neither will I!"
Bakugo's expression twisted. "All Might has a quirk, you idiot! You're just a quirkless nobody!"
He shoved Izuku hard enough to make the smaller boy stumble back.
And something in me snapped.
I stood up, putting myself between them. "Back off, Bakugo."
"Or what? You gonna freeze me, Ice Boy?" He smirked, but there was something desperate underneath it. "Go ahead. Use your quirk. Prove you're better than quirkless Deku."
The two other boys were backing up now, clearly not expecting this to escalate. The winged kid looked nervous.
He wants me to use my quirk so he can justify this somehow to make it be about power.
"No," I said calmly. "I don't need my quirk to deal with you."
His eyes widened. "What?"
"You heard me. You want to prove you're stronger than Izuku because he doesn't have a quirk? Fine. Let's see how you do against someone who won't use theirs either."
Bakugo's hands started sparking. "You're bluffing."
"Try me."
"Bakugo, maybe we should just go—" the finger-stretching kid started.
"Shut up!" Bakugo snapped. Then, to me: "Fine. I'll show you."
He lunged.
I'd been in exactly one fight in my previous life, a stupid thing at a party that ended with both of us getting pulled apart. But I had fourteen years of life experience, even if most of it wasn't combat-related. And most importantly, I had more battle IQ.
Bakugo expected me to freeze up or use my quirk.
I did neither.
I sidestepped his first, fire-crackling explosion, using his momentum against him. He was fast, but he fought like an aggressive kid, all forward pressure and no defense. When he overextended on his second attack, I swept his legs out from under him.
He hit the ground hard, and I could hear the wind knocked out of him.
"Stay down," I said.
He didn't. Of course, he didn't.
He came up swinging, both his palms crackling. But he was telegraphing every move and broadcasting his intentions with body language that any person could read.
I dodged, blocked, redirected. Every time he got close to landing a hit, I moved just enough to avoid it. The crackles were loud and flashy, but they weren't doing damage because he couldn't actually connect.
It was humiliating for him. I could see it in his face, the growing frustration and disbelief.
"Use your quirk!" he screamed. "Fight me for real!"
"This is for real," I said, catching his wrist mid-punch and twisting just enough to make him drop his stance. "You're just losing."
He tried to blast me point-blank, but I'd already let go and stepped back. The explosion hit empty air.
By now, other kids were watching. Parents were starting to notice. Bakugo's two followers had backed away completely, the winged kid looking shocked and the other one whispering, "He's not even using his quirk..."
And Bakugo was breathing hard, hands shaking, eyes wild with something between rage and fear.
I'm breaking his confidence and worldview. The idea that having a strong quirk automatically makes you superior.
Part of me felt bad about it.
The rest of me remembered Izuku's broken expression and didn't stop.
Bakugo charged one more time, putting everything into a big tackle. I waited until the last second, then dropped into a crouch. He sailed over me, momentum carrying him straight into a park bench.
The impact was loud. Bakugo lay there for a moment, stunned, before slowly pushing himself up.
His lip was bleeding. He had a scrape on his cheek. And his eyes were shining with tears he was desperately trying to hold back.
"I hate you," he said, voice shaking. "I hate both of you."
He ran in the opposite direction away from his mother and everyone else. His mother rushed over with concern written all over her face.
Tsubasa and the other boy just stood there, frozen, clearly not knowing what to do. The winged kid looked at me with something like fear before running after Bakugo.
I stood there, breathing hard, knuckles sore, and felt the adrenaline start to crash.
What did I just do?
Bakugo's mom caught up with him at the park entrance. I watched from a distance as she knelt, trying to check his injuries, asking what happened.
I couldn't hear the conversation, but I saw Bakugo shake his head violently. Saw him wipe his eyes. Saw him point vaguely at the playground equipment, clearly lying about how he got hurt. He was too embarrassed to tell the truth.
Mitsuki looked unconvinced, but she let it go. They left together, Bakugo walking stiffly, refusing to look back.
My mother appeared beside me. "Kori? What happened?"
"Bakugo was being mean to Izuku, and we fought; he was hurting him ."
"And you didn't use your quirk?"
"No."
I'm proud you defended Izuku Kori, but..." She crouched down to my level. "That boy is hurting, too. Maybe in a different way, but hurting nonetheless. Be careful about making enemies at four years old. You might regret it later."
I wanted to argue and say Bakugo deserved it, that he needed to learn he couldn't just push people around.
But she was right. I'd seen the fear under his anger and the desperation. He was a four-year-old kid dealing with complex emotions he didn't have the tools to process, and I'd just shattered his entire understanding of strength and worth.
I just beat up a four-year-old, even if I'm in a four-year-old's body. What does that make me?
"Come on," my mother said gently. "Let's check on Izuku."
Izuku was still sitting on the bench, looking shell-shocked. His mother had arrived and was hugging him, but he was staring at me with wide eyes.
"Kori," he breathed. "You beat Kacchan without even using your quirk."
"Yeah."
"That was... that was amazing."
I sat down next to him, suddenly exhausted. "It wasn't amazing. It was just a boring fight."
"But you stood up for me. Nobody ever does that."
Inko Midoriya was looking at me with a mixture of gratitude and concern. "Thank you for defending my son. But please, both of you, try to avoid fighting. Violence isn't the answer."
"I know, Mrs. Midoriya," I said. "I'm sorry."
She smiled softly. "You're a good friend to Izuku. I can see that. Just... be careful, okay?"
We left soon after. My mother was quiet on the walk home, and I knew she was processing what she'd seen. Her son, usually calm and thoughtful, got into a physical fight.
That night at dinner, my father asked about my day.
"I got in a fight," I said before my mother could soften it.
He set down his chopsticks. "A fight."
"Bakugo was bullying Izuku. Saying mean things about him being quirkless. I told him to stop. He didn't. So we fought."
"And you won?"
"Yes."
"Using your quirk?"
"No. I promised I wouldn't unless it was necessary."
My parents exchanged one of their looks. The ones that communicated whole conversations without words.
"Kori," my father said carefully, "defending your friend is admirable. But you need to understand something. That boy will remember this, how he felt losing to you. And it might not make him better. It might make him worse."
"I know."
"Do you? Because you're very smart for your age, son. Sometimes I forget you're only three. But that boy is young as well. And four-year-olds don't process humiliation the way adults do. They don't have the tools for it."
"What was I supposed to do? Let him hurt Izuku?"
"No," my mother said gently. "You did the right thing. But right things sometimes have complicated consequences. Just be aware of that going forward."
I nodded, but inside I was thinking about Bakugo's face. The tears he'd been fighting and the way he'd lied to his mother.
I have made an enemy today, a toddler no less.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The first day of preschool arrived with all the chaos of any beginning.
My mother had been fussing over my outfit since breakfast. A simple school uniform, white shirt, and navy shorts, but she kept adjusting the collar and smoothing my hair.
"You look very handsome," she said. "Are you excited?"
"Nervous," I admitted.
"That's normal. You'll do great. Just be yourself."
The preschool was a cheerful building painted in bright colors, with a playground visible from the entrance. Kids were everywhere, some clinging to their parents, others already running around and screaming.
I saw Izuku immediately. He was holding his mother's hand, looking small and anxious. When he spotted me, his face brightened.
"Kori!"
We gravitated toward each other naturally, finding comfort in familiar faces.
"Did you bring anything for show and tell?" Izuku asked.
"Show and tell?"
"The letter said we could bring something from home. I brought my All Might figure!" He pulled a small action figure from his pocket, beaming.
Before I could respond, a loud voice cut through the playground noise.
"Out of my way, extras!"
He walked through the crowd of kids like he owned the place, backpack slung over one shoulder, expression set in a permanent scowl. When his eyes landed on me, something flickered across his face: anger and embarrassment.
Then he looked away, deliberately turning his back.
We hadn't spoken since the fight. Hadn't even been to the park at the same time. And now we were going to be in the same class for the next year.
This is going to be fun. I thought sarcastically
The teacher, a cheerful woman named Hana-sensei, gathered everyone into the classroom. It was set up like any preschool, with low tables, colorful rugs, shelves full of toys and books. Name tags on cubbies. A corner for reading. Another for building blocks.
"Good morning, everyone!" Hana-sensei had that overly enthusiastic teacher voice that made me internally cringe. "Welcome to preschool! We're going to have so much fun learning together! Let's start by introducing ourselves. When I call your name, stand up and tell us something special about you!"
She started with the A's alphabetically. I watched as kids stood up, some confident, others shy. They talked about favorite colors, pets, and siblings.
Then the quirk demonstrations started.
A girl named Aika could make sparkles appear in her hands. The class oohed and ahhed.
"Pretty!" several kids shouted.
A boy named Daichi could make his ears really big. Everyone laughed.
"That's so weird!" someone giggled.
"Can you hear super good?" another asked.
"Uh-huh! I can hear the teachers in the other room!"
A boy with small, red wings raised his hand excitedly. "Me next! Me next!"
"Alright, Tsubasa-kun!" Hana-sensei smiled.
The winged boy - Tsubasa - stood up and flapped his wings hard. He lifted off the ground about six inches and hovered there for a few seconds before landing with a proud grin.
"I can fly! Well, almost fly. Mama says I'll fly for real when I'm bigger!"
"That's wonderful, Tsubasa-kun! Very impressive!"
Another boy waved his hand. "I wanna show mine too!"
"Go ahead, Habuko-kun!"
Habuko stood and held up his hands, then stretched his fingers out until they were nearly twice as long. "See? I can reach stuff really far away! Watch!" He stretched one finger across the circle to poke another kid's shoulder, making everyone laugh.
"Very creative, Habuko-kun! Remember to keep your hands to yourself, though."
"Okay, sensei!"
"Bakugo Katsuki!" Hana-sensei called.
Bakugo stood up with confidence. "My name's Bakugo Katsuki," he announced loudly. "My quirk is Explosion. I can make explosions with my hands. Watch!"
He held up his palm, and sparks of explosion came out of his hand. Several kids gasped, and most looked in awe.
"Whoa!" Tsubasa's eyes went wide. "That's so cool, Bakugo!"
"Yeah!" Habuko agreed enthusiastically. "That's like, the best quirk ever!"
Bakugo's smirk grew wider at their praise.
"Very impressive, Bakugo-kun!" Hana-sensei said. "But please remember, quirks are only for outside or when a teacher says it's okay. Can you do that?"
"Yeah, yeah." He sat down, smirking. But I noticed he didn't look at me. Instead, he turned to Tsubasa and Habuko, who were still whispering about how awesome his explosions were.
A few more kids went. Then:
"Midoriya Izuku!"
Izuku stood up slowly, clutching his All Might figure. "Um, hi. I'm Midoriya Izuku. I... I don't have a quirk yet. But I brought my All Might toy! He's my favorite hero and—"
"You don't have a quirk?" A boy near the back interrupted. "But you're four! Everyone gets one by four!"
"Some people get them later," Izuku said quietly.
Tsubasa's hand shot up. "My mama says if you don't have a quirk by four, you prob'ly don't got one at all!"
"Yeah!" Habuko chimed in. "My dad says people without quirks are useless. They can't do anything!"
"That's not true!" Izuku's voice cracked. "I can still be a hero! All Might saves everyone with a smile, and I'm gonna do that too!"
Several kids laughed, not mean way, necessarily. Just the thoughtless cruelty of children who don't understand what they're doing.
Bakugo was smirking from his seat. "Good luck with that, Deku."
Tsubasa giggled. "Yeah, Deku! You gonna ask the bad guys to wait while you think about it?"
Habuko stretched his fingers mockingly. "Or maybe you'll bore them so much they fall asleep!"
More kids laughed.
"Boys, that's enough," Hana-sensei said firmly. "Everyone is special in their own way. Quirk or no quirk, we're all friends here. Midoriya-kun, thank you for sharing. You can sit down now."
Izuku sat, face red, eyes shining.
"Takeda Kori!"
I stood up. Every eye in the room turned to me, and I could see the curiosity. My appearance always drew attention. The white-blue hair, the pale skin, the ice-blue eyes.
"I'm Takeda Kori," I said clearly. "My quirk is Cryokinesis. I can control ice and cold."
"Can you show us?" Hana-sensei asked with a smile.
There was a cup of water on her desk. I walked over to it, placed my hand near it, and concentrated. The water froze solid in seconds, frost creeping up the sides of the cup.
"Wow!" Several kids exclaimed.
"That's so cool!" someone said.
"Literally!" another added, and a few kids giggled.
I could see Tsubasa and Habuko whispering to each other, looking less excited now. Habuko said something to Bakugo, who scowled and crossed his arms.
I ignored them, looking straight at Izuku. "I want to be a hero too. A hero who helps people and stands up for those who can't stand up for themselves. Like All Might does."
Izuku's eyes went wide. He understood the message.
I've got your back.
Bakugo was glaring at me, hands clenched into fists. Tsubasa leaned over and whispered something in his ear, probably trying to reassure him that explosions were still cooler.
I sat down, and Hana-sensei continued through the rest of the class. But the dynamic had been set. The kids with impressive quirks got attention and praise. The kids with weak or no quirks got sympathetic smiles.
And Izuku was already being marked as the odd one out.
Recess was chaos.
Kids ran everywhere, playing tag, climbing equipment, and showing off quirks despite the teachers' warnings to save them for quirk playtime.
Bakugo had gathered his small group around him - Tsubasa with his wings and the finger-stretching kid whose name I'd learned was Habuko. They stood in a cluster near the slide, all boys with physical quirks. Bakugo was demonstrating his explosions again, bigger this time, clearly trying to one-up my ice display.
"See? My quirk is way better for fighting villains!" he declared. "Explosions are the best!"
"Yeah!" Tsubasa agreed, flapping his wings enthusiastically. "Way cooler than ice!"
"What about Takeda's ice?" another boy in their group asked.
Bakugo's expression darkened. "Ice is boring. Defensive. Not good for real heroes."
Habuko stretched his fingers out. "Yeah, and he didn't even do that much. Just froze some water. Big deal."
"My explosions are way stronger," Bakugo insisted, setting off another small blast.
I ignored him, sitting with Izuku under a tree. We were looking at his All Might figure, talking about hero costumes and rescue techniques.
"Do you think I could really be a hero?" Izuku asked quietly. "Without a quirk?"
"I think you can do anything if you work hard enough," I said. "It'll be different than everyone else's path. But that doesn't mean impossible."
"Kori's right!" A girl approached us, smiling. She had pink streaks in her dark hair. "I'm Yuna! Your ice quirk is really pretty. Can you make shapes?"
"Small ones," I said. "I'm still learning."
"That's okay! Learning is fun!" She plopped down next to us. "Midoriya, right? I like your All-Might toy. All Might is the coolest!"
Izuku brightened immediately. "You think so? Do you watch his rescue videos? There's this one where he saved a hundred people from a burning building and—"
They launched into an animated discussion, and I watched them with a small smile. This was good. Izuku needed friends who didn't judge him for being quirkless.
Unfortunately, not everyone felt the same way.
"Hey, Deku!" Bakugo's voice carried across the playground. A couple of other kids flanked him - and of course, his lackeys were with him. They'd been following Bakugo around all day. "Stop boring everyone with your stupid hero talk! You'll never be a hero anyway!"
The winged kid, Tsubasa, laughed. "Yeah! Heroes need quirks!"
The other boy stretched his fingers out mockingly. "What're you gonna do? Bore the villains to death?"
Several kids laughed, and Izuku's shoulders hunched.
I have had enough of this.
I stood up and walked over to Bakugo's group. "His name is Izuku. And he's not boring. You're just too limited to understand what he's talking about."
Bakugo's red eyes narrowed. "Limited? I'm not limited! I'm gonna be the number one hero!"
Tsubasa puffed up his chest, wings fluttering. "Yeah! And we're gonna help him! Right, Bakugo?"
"Right," Bakugo said, but he was still glaring at me.
"Maybe. But right now you're just a kid being mean to another kid because it makes you feel bigger."
"I'm not mean! I'm honest! He needs to know the truth!"
"The truth is he's smarter than you," I said calmly. "He notices things, and thinks about hero work in ways you don't, that's important to being a hero."
"Not as important as a strong quirk!"
Bakugo then looked at me like he wanted to hit me, and his hands sparked.
"Bakugo-kun! No quirks on the playground!" Hana-sensei called from across the yard.
He lowered his hands, but the glare remained. "This isn't over."
"I didn't think it was."
He stomped away, and Tsubasa and the other boy exchanged uncertain glances before following him. I noticed they kept more distance this time, like they weren't quite sure if backing Bakugo was the smart play anymore.
Izuku appeared at my side. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yeah, I did. You're my friend."
"But now Bakugo hates you."
I shrugged. "He already hated me. At least now he knows I'm not backing down."
Yuna rejoined us, looking impressed. "You're really brave, Kori. Nobody talks to Bakugo like that."
"Somebody should," I muttered.
The rest of recess passed without incident, though I could feel Bakugo's eyes on me the entire time. It looks like he might be planning something.
Let him plan, I thought. I'm not afraid of a four-year-old with anger issues.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
When we got inside, Hana-sensei had set up different stations around the room. Building blocks in one corner, drawing supplies in another, a reading nook with picture books, and a pretend kitchen area.
"Okay, everyone! Free play time! You can choose any station, but remember to share and be kind!"
The kids scattered immediately, and I watched as the social dynamics played out. The confident kids claimed the popular stations. The shy kids gravitated to quiet corners. And Izuku hovered uncertainly, unsure where he fit.
"Want to build something?" I asked.
His face lit up. "Yeah! Can we make a hero agency?"
We settled at the block station, and Izuku immediately started planning. "Okay, so the front needs to be strong, like a fortress! And we need a tall tower for a lookout! And a garage for hero vehicles!"
His imagination was infectious. Soon, we were deep into construction, Izuku narrating an elaborate story about the heroes who would work there.
Other kids drifted over. Yuna joined us, adding a garden. A boy named Kenji wanted to build a villain's hideout to attack our agency. It became a whole collaborative game, everyone contributing ideas.
Everyone except Bakugo's group.
He sat at the drawing table with Tsubasa and Habuko, aggressively scribbling on paper. Tsubasa was trying to show him his own drawing, but Bakugo kept dismissing it. Every time someone tried to join their table, Bakugo told them to go away. His two followers stayed, but they looked increasingly uncomfortable.
I felt a pang of something, not quite sympathy but recognition that he was isolating himself and pushing people away before they could reject him, while taking Tsubasa and Habuko down with him.
That's not my problem, I told myself. He made his choice.
But it bothered me anyway.
During snack time, Hana-sensei had everyone sit in a circle. We sang songs, practiced counting, and did simple exercises.
"Now," she said brightly, "let's go around and everyone share what they want to be when they grow up!"
Here we go.
"I wanna be a hero!" Multiple kids shouted it at once.
Hana-sensei laughed. "Lots of future heroes! That's wonderful! Who wants to go first?"
Bakugo's hand shot up. "I'm gonna be the number one hero! Better than All Might! I'll beat all the villains, and everyone will know my name!"
"That's a wonderful goal, Bakugo-kun!"
"Me too!" Tsubasa chirped. "I'm gonna fly around and help Bakugo catch bad guys!"
The finger-stretching kid nodded enthusiastically. "And I'll grab stuff from far away! We're gonna be the best hero team!"
Other kids shared. Hero, hero, doctor, hero, teacher, hero. The pattern was clear.
Then it was Izuku's turn.
"I... I want to be a hero too," he said quietly. "Like All Might. I want to save people with a smile."
A few kids giggled. One boy said, "But you don't have a quirk!"
"Doesn't matter," Izuku said, voice stronger. "I can still try."
"That's very brave, Midoriya-kun," Hana-sensei said warmly. "Heroes come in many forms."
When it was my turn, I said, "I want to be a hero who helps people. Especially people who need someone in their corner."
I looked at Izuku when I said it, and he smiled.
The rest of the day followed typical preschool patterns. Nap time (which I spent pretending to sleep while actually thinking about quirk training). Music time (learning simple songs with hand motions that made me feel ridiculous). Art time (where I drew rough sketches of hero costumes and Izuku drew All Might in various poses).
But the social dynamics were set. Bakugo and his group on one side. Me, Izuku, and a small collection of other kids on the other.
When parents arrived for pickup, I saw Bakugo's mother talking to Hana-sensei. Probably asking about his day, how he was adjusting.
Bakugo stood apart, arms crossed, refusing to engage.
Inko Midoriya arrived to collect Izuku, and her face softened when she saw us together. "Kori! How was your first day?"
"Good, Mrs. Midoriya. Izuku and I built a hero agency out of blocks."
"That sounds wonderful! Izuku, did you make a new friend?"
"Yeah! Yuna likes All Might too! And Kori stood up for me when some kids were being mean."
Inko's expression shifted to concern. "Mean? What happened?"
"Nothing bad, Mama. Just some kids saying I can't be a hero. But Kori told them they were wrong!"
She looked at me, and I saw gratitude mixed with worry in her eyes. "Thank you for being such a good friend to Izuku. But please, both of you, try to stay out of trouble."
"We will," I promised.
My mother appeared then, and the two women started talking. Making polite conversation, exchanging phone numbers, discussing setting up playdates.
Izuku tugged my sleeve. "Do you want to come to my house sometime? We could watch All Might videos and play heroes!"
"That sounds great."
"Really? You're not just saying that?"
"Really. You're my friend, Izuku and friends hang out."
His smile could have powered a city.
As we left the preschool, I looked back and saw Bakugo one more time. He was watching us, expression unreadable. When he noticed me looking, he turned away sharply.
We used to be friends, I thought. All three of us. And now...
Now we were something else. Something broken that probably couldn't be fixed.
The cold feeling in my chest pulsed, and I wondered if it was my quirk or just who I was becoming.
Someone who protected the people they cared about, no matter the cost.
I'm okay with that, I decided. Even if it makes me the bad guy in someone else's story.
Because at the end of the day, Izuku was smiling again. And that mattered more than Bakugo's wounded pride.
That had to matter more.
Two weeks into preschool, and routines had solidified.
Izuku and I were inseparable. We sat together during circle time, played together during recess, and worked on projects together during free play. Yuna had become part of our little group, along with Kenji and a quiet girl named Hina who had a quirk that let her see in the dark.
Bakugo had his own group. Tsubasa and Habuko were his constant shadows now, along with a couple of other louder, more aggressive kids who liked showing off their quirks and playing rough. They dominated the playground, claiming the best equipment, making noise, demanding attention.
The divide was clear, but what wasn't clear was how much it was affecting Bakugo.
I noticed the little things. How his explosions were getting bigger during show-off sessions, especially when Tsubasa egged him on. How he pushed himself harder during physical activities, like he was trying to prove something. How he watched our group sometimes with an expression I couldn't quite read, while Habuko and Tsubasa laughed and joked beside him, oblivious.
Hana-sensei noticed too. She pulled me aside one day during quiet reading time.
"Kori-kun, can I talk to you for a moment?"
"Sure, sensei."
We stepped into the hallway, and she knelt to my level. "I've noticed that you and Bakugo-kun don't play together anymore. Did something happen?"
I considered lying, but decided against it. "We had a disagreement about Izuku. Bakugo thinks he can't be a hero without a quirk, but I think he can if he works hard enough."
"I see." She looked thoughtful. "And this disagreement led to you two not being friends anymore?"
"Yeah."
"That must be hard. For both of you."
I shrugged, trying to seem casual. "It's okay. I have other friends."
"You do. But Kori-kun..." She hesitated. "You're very mature for your age. Sometimes I forget you're only three. But Bakugo-kun is not that much older than you. And he's struggling with some big feelings he doesn't know how to handle."
"That's not my problem."
"Maybe not, but it could be your opportunity to show him what a real hero does. Heroes don't just protect their friends. They help everyone, even people who are difficult."
I wanted to argue again, but I knew she was right deep down.
"I'll think about it," I said finally.
She smiled. "That's all I ask. Now, go back to your book. I hear you're quite the reader for your age."
I returned to the reading nook, but I couldn't focus on the picture book in my hands. My mind was stuck on Bakugo, on the fight, on everything that had happened.
Should I try to fix this?
The cold part of me that was influenced by my quirk said no. Said to let him suffer, learn his lesson, face consequences.
But the other part of me, the part that believed in heroes and second chances, whispered something different.
Not yet, I decided. He's not ready, and neither am I.
But maybe someday.
The first playdate at Izuku's house happened on a Saturday.
His apartment was smaller than mine, but warm and filled wth posters of All Might on every wall, action figures lined up on shelves, hero-themed everything.
"Sorry, it's so messy," Inko said, moving laundry off the couch. "Izuku gets very excited about heroes."
"It's great," I said honestly. "It's like a hero museum."
Izuku beamed. "Want to see my video collection? I've got All Might's debut, his fight against Toxic Chainsaw, his rescue in Kyushu..."
We spent hours watching grainy videos of All Might saving people. Izuku narrated each one, pointing out techniques, analyzing strategies, and explaining why each rescue worked.
"See how he positions himself between the villain and civilians? That's because his body can take the hits, but normal people can't. And see his smile? That makes people feel safe even when things are scary."
His analytical mind was impressive. He noticed details I'd missed, made connections I hadn't considered.
"You'd make a good strategist," I said during a break between videos. "Like a hero support specialist. Someone who helps heroes plan their rescues and fights."
Izuku looked thoughtful. "You really think so?"
"Definitely. Your brain is your quirk. It's just not a physical one."
He smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. "I wish everyone thought like you."
"They will. Eventually. Or they won't, and you'll prove them wrong anyway."
We played heroes after that, taking turns being All Might and various villains. It was silly and fun and exactly what four-year-olds should be doing.
Inko made us lunch, and while we ate, she and my mother talked in the kitchen. I could hear snippets of their conversation.
"...so grateful Izuku has a friend like Kori..."
"...both of them are special in their own ways..."
"...worried about school, about the other children..."
"...they'll be okay. They have each other..."
After lunch, Izuku pulled out his notebook. The one he'd been keeping for almost a year now. It had evolved from scribbles to actual writing, crude drawings to detailed sketches.
"I've been working on something," he said shyly. "A hero costume. For me. Even though I don't have a quirk."
He showed me the page. A green costume with a hood, support gear on the arms and legs, and a utility belt.
"This is really good, Izuku. What's all this equipment for?"
"Well, I thought if I can't have a quirk, I need other ways to help. So I researched support items. These are reinforced gloves for protection, and this belt has first aid supplies and rescue equipment."
He'd thought about everything. At four years old, he was designing functional support gear.
He's going to be incredible someday, I thought. With or without a quirk.
"You should keep developing this," I said. "Maybe even show it to my dad. He designs support equipment for his company. He'd probably have good suggestions."
Izuku's eyes went wide. "Really? You think he'd want to see it?"
"I think he'd be impressed."
We spent the rest of the afternoon working on costume designs. Izuku drew, I offered suggestions, and slowly his concept became more refined.
When it was time to leave, Izuku walked me to the door.
"Thanks for coming over," he said. "This was really fun."
"We should do it again. Maybe next time at my house? I have a backyard we could practice quirks in."
"That sounds awesome!"
I waved goodbye and joined my mother for the walk home. She was smiling.
"You and Izuku are good for each other," she said. "He brings out your softer side. You bring out his confidence."
"He's my best friend."
"I can tell. I'm glad you have each other."
We walked in comfortable silence for a while. Then she added, "Mrs. Midoriya mentioned that Izuku has been having trouble with some other children at school. Is that true?"
"Some kids are mean about him being quirkless."
"And you stand up for him?"
"Always."
She stopped walking and turned to face me. "Kori, I'm proud of you for being a good friend. But I need you to promise me that you won't let protecting Izuku turn you into someone who fights all the time."
"I promise, Mama."
"Good. Because heroes protect people. They don't just fight battles. Remember that."
I nodded, but inside I was thinking about the fight with Bakugo I'd made to humiliate him instead of finding another way.
Was that protecting Izuku? Or was that something else?
I didn't have an answer.
But walking home in the fading afternoon light, I made a decision. I would be better. Would find ways to protect Izuku without creating more enemies.
I would try at least.
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A/N: Wow, this is a chunky chapter, I kinda went on a tangent, sorry about that lol, but I hoped you enjoyed it at least