2 year time skip
The first time I realized my quirk was basically Iceman's powerset, I was six years old and accidentally created an ice clone in my backyard.
It wasn't intentional. I'd been practicing basic ice constructs like walls, shields, and simple shapes when I sneezed mid-freeze and somehow projected an ice copy of myself that stood there like a frozen statue for three seconds before shattering.
My father saw this and dropped his mug.
"Kori," he'd said carefully, adjusting his glasses. "Did you just... make a copy of yourself?"
"I think so?" I'd stared at the ice fragments scattered across the grass. "I didn't mean to."
That night, I sat in my room and started thinking about all the abilities I had, like ice generation, temperature manipulation, and now apparently ice clones.
My quirk has to be based on him; there's no way this is all a coincidence especially with me being also a fan
The joke wasn't lost on me. I'd died reading manga about a world with superpowers, and I'd been reborn with the exact abilities of my favorite comic book character. The universe either had an incredible sense of humor or was really, really lazy with its randomization algorithm.
But the implications were staggering.
Iceman was an Omega-level mutant and one of the strongest beings in the Marvel universe when he didn't suffer from bad writing. He could freeze oceans, create sentient ice constructs, manipulate matter at the molecular level, and essentially become immortal by rebuilding his body from any available water source.
I had that potential, which was crazy to think about.
But I'm six years old, I reminded myself, looking at my small hands. My body's still developing. Bones, muscles, everything. If I push too hard too fast, I could permanently damage myself.
So I made a decision. No serious quirk training until I was older. Until my body could handle it. But that didn't mean I couldn't prepare.
Physical conditioning, coordination, balance, and flexibility are all the foundational skills that would make quirk use more effective later without risking developmental damage, and I knew exactly how to make it fun.
"You want to teach me to skateboard?"
Izuku looked at the board in my hands like I'd just offered him a live grenade. We were standing in an empty parking lot near my house, the spring sun warming the asphalt.
"Trust me," I said, setting the board down. "It's awesome. And it'll help with balance and coordination, which would be useful for hero work."
"I don't know, Kori. I'm not very... athletic."
"You're not athletic yet. But you could be, with practice." I stepped onto the board, demonstrating a basic push-off. The muscle memory from my previous life made it easy as hell. "See? Just push, balance, glide."
I kicked off and cruised in a smooth circle around him, then popped an ollie that made Izuku's eyes go wide.
"How did you do that?!"
"Lotsss of practice." I rolled back to him and hopped off. "Your turn."
He approached the skateboard like it might bite him. "What if I fall?"
"Then you get back up. That's literally the entire sport." I helped him position his feet. "Front foot over the bolts, back foot on the tail. Just push with your back foot and glide."
Izuku pushed tentatively. The board rolled maybe three feet before he lost his balance and stumbled off, windmilling his arms.
"That was terrible," he groaned.
"That was your first try. Try again."
He did. And again. And again.
By the end of the afternoon, he could push and glide for about ten feet before panic set in. He looked excited while doing though.
"I did it!" He was grinning so hard it looked painful. "Kori, I actually did it!"
"Told you. Next time we'll work on turning."
"There's a next time?"
"Obviously. We're not stopping until you can kickflip."
Izuku's grin somehow got wider. "This is so cool. Nobody else at school does stuff like this."
That's because everyone else is obsessed with quirks, I thought. They forget that hero work is also about physical capability, spatial awareness, and reaction time. All things skating teach naturally.
"Same time next week?" I asked.
"Definitely!"
As I watched him carefully carry the skateboard home, I'd bought him one of his own, a birthday gift that had made Inko cry; it felt right doing this.
Teaching Izuku to skateboard wasn't just about coordination or hero prep. It was about showing him he could do things, could improve, could be capable even without a quirk.
And selfishly, it was nice to share something from my old life. To have a piece of Frost still exist in this world.
Elementary school started two months later, and the difference from preschool was immediately apparent.
Everything was more serious with less play time and more homework.
And Bakugo's group had gotten worse.
Tsubasa and the long-fingered kid, whom I'd learned was actually named Tesaki, were practically glued to Bakugo's sides. They'd evolved from simple yes-men into active participants in his bullying, competing to see who could come up with the cruelest comments about Izuku.
"Look, it's Deku the Defect!"
"Did you bring your hero notebook today, Deku? Gonna write about people who can actually be heroes?"
"My grandpa says quirkless people are evolutionary dead ends."
That last one was Tsubasa, and it made my hands go cold with frost forming on my pencil. I had to warm it back up.
The quirk influence was getting stronger. I'd noticed it over the past year. When I got angry, my body temperature dropped. When I focused intensely, the air around me cooled. When I used my quirk regularly, I found myself thinking more... calmly. Like I was observing situations from behind a layer of frost.
It wasn't controlling me. I was still me. But the quirk was shaping how I expressed those things.
Is this how Bakugo feels? I wondered, watching him set off a small explosion to impress some girls. Does his quirk make him more aggressive, or does it just give him a socially acceptable outlet for aggression he already had?
I didn't know. But I was becoming increasingly aware that my quirk wasn't just a tool, and it was shaping me-
I was interrupted by my thinking from Aoki-sensei
"Takeda, you're tall."
The comment came from Aoki-sensei during our first health check. She was measuring everyone's height, marking it on the growth chart.
"Um, thank you?"
"No, I mean you're very tall for six." She frowned at the measurement. "115 centimeters. That's... that's closer to average for an eight-year-old."
I shrugged. I'd noticed I was bigger than the other kids, but I hadn't realized it was that significant. "My quirk, maybe? Ice-types sometimes have different body development."
"Possibly. I'll make a note for the nurse." She smiled. "You'll probably be quite tall when you grow up. How tall are your parents?"
"Average. Dad's 172, Mom's 158."
Her frown deepened. "Interesting. Well, quirks can affect growth patterns in unexpected ways. Just make sure you're eating enough to support your development."
As if that was a problem, I was always hungry lately. My mother joked that I ate like a teenager despite being six.
The height thing was useful, though. It made me more physically imposing, which helped when standing up to Bakugo's group. Hard to intimidate someone who's looking down at you, even if the height difference was only a few centimeters.
Speaking of which...
"Oi, Ice Boy!"
Bakugo stormed up during lunch, Tsubasa and Tesaki flanking him like guards. His red eyes were narrowed, challenging.
"Your quirk. Let's see it. I heard you've been practicing."
The lunch area went quiet. Kids stopped eating, watching.
I considered refusing and walking away, but I saw an opportunity to flex on these little kids
"Sure," I said calmly. "What do you want to see?"
"Make something cool."
There was a water fountain nearby. I walked over to it, placed my palm near the stream, and let the quirk flow.
The water froze mid-arc, creating a crystalline sculpture that spiraled upward like a frozen tornado. I shaped it as it formed, adding details and textures.
It wasn't big, though, maybe two feet tall, but it was beautiful.
"That's it?" Bakugo scoffed, but his voice lacked its usual confidence. "That's just decorative, not useful for fighting."
"Fighting isn't the only thing heroes do," I said, letting the ice sculpture melt back into water. "Sometimes they rescue people from collapsed buildings. Or create barriers to protect civilians. Or freeze building damage to prevent further collapse."
"Those are support roles, which are boring."
"All Might does support work all the time. He holds up buildings, creates safe zones, and manages crowd control. Fighting is maybe twenty percent of hero work. The rest is problem-solving."
Tsubasa jumped in, wings bristling. "Bakugo's explosions are perfect for fighting! Way better than ice!"
"For some situations, sure. For others, explosions would make things worse. Fire rescue? The explosion quirk is a liability. Hostage situations? Too much collateral damage risk. Underwater rescue? Useless."
"You calling Bakugo useless?!" Tesaki's fingers extended aggressively.
"I'm saying every quirk has strengths and weaknesses. Bakugo's is strong for combat, while mine's more versatile." I gathered my lunch tray. "Neither makes us better people. That's determined by our choices."
I walked away before they could respond, feeling their glares on my back.
Izuku caught up with me in the hallway. "That was really cool, Kori with the ice sculpture."
"Thanks. Been practicing control."
"Are you really not training your quirk seriously yet?"
"No, not yet, I'm just training control. I'm too young to push my limits safely." I glanced at him. "But I am training my body, as we talked about.
"Does it help?"
"Yeah. Makes me faster and more coordinated. When I do start serious quirk training, I'll have the physical foundation to support it."
Izuku pulled out his ever-present notebook. "Can I write that down? The stuff about training foundation before power?"
"Sure. It's good hero theory."
He beamed and started scribbling. I watched him write, feeling that warm sensation in my chest again.
He's going to be something special.
I just had to make sure he survived long enough to get there.
Skateboarding sessions became our regular thing.
Every weekend, Izuku and I would hit the parking lot or the local skate park. He was getting better, still terrible by objective standards, but better than he'd been. He could cruise, do basic turns, and was starting to work on small ollies.
But what really surprised me was how much he loved it.
"It's like flying!" he'd said once, breathless after successfully rolling down a small ramp. "I mean, not really flying, but kind of!"
"Wait until you can do a kickflip. That's actual airtime."
"You think I'll get there?"
"I know you will."
And I did. Because Izuku had something most people lacked, pure, stubborn determination. He'd fall twenty times trying the same trick, scrape his knees raw, and still get back up for attempt twenty-one.
That's the hero spirit, I thought, watching him nail a small ollie after thirty failed attempts.
I was getting better, too, or rather, I was recovering my old skills. My body was bigger now and stronger. I could do most of my old tricks by now.
The kids at the skate park noticed.
"Yo, how old are you?" A teenager, maybe fourteen, had asked after watching me land a clean heelflip.
"Six."
"Bullshit. Nobody that small lands heelflips."
I'd shrugged and done it again, just to prove the point.
Word spread quickly around the skateboard community in musutafu. The "ice kid who skates like a pro" became a minor local legend. Other kids started asking for tips. Some of the older skaters would spot me and nod in respect.
It felt good getting validation for something that had nothing to do with quirks or hero society.
Izuku soaked it all in, watching how I interacted with the other skaters. "Everyone here is so nice," he said once. "Even though we're all different ages and have different quirks."
"That's because skating doesn't care about quirks. A kickflip is a kickflip whether you have super strength or you're quirkless. It's pure skill."
"I wish hero society was like that."
"Maybe it will be. Someday. When someone proves it can work."
He looked at me, understanding dawning. "You think I could do that?"
"I think you're exactly the kind of person who could."
Six years old became six and a half. Summer came and went. I grew another three centimeters, putting me at 118, officially taller than any other kid in my grade and most of the grade above.
My quirk continued developing in subtle ways. I could freeze larger amounts of water and create more complex constructs. The ice clones were still unpredictable, but I could make them consistently now, even if controlling them was hit-or-miss.
My body also started being affected by my quirk more and more; my body was cold all the time now. Izuku complained that holding my hand was "like grabbing an ice pack." My mother started keeping the thermostat higher when I was home.
The personality shifts were there too, I was alot calmer than I used to be before and more patient. I could watch Bakugo and his cronies bully Izuku and not react with anger; instead, I'd observe, and wait for the right moment to intervene.
It should have scared me with how my quirk was changing me but it didn't feel wrong. It felt like... refinement. Like the quirk was taking my existing traits and optimizing them. I was still empathetic, still protective, still curious. But now those qualities were expressed through the lens of being calmer."
Is this bad? I wondered sometimes, watching frost form on my desk when I got too focused on homework.
I didn't think so. Bakugo's explosions made him more aggressive, more confrontational. Everyone was shaped by their circumstances.
I was just shaped by ice.
The incident that defined first grade happened in November.
Bakugo had been getting worse, more aggressive, more openly cruel. Tsubasa and Tesaki egged him on constantly, creating a feedback loop of toxicity.
They'd cornered Izuku after school. Not physically dangerous, just... mean. Surrounding him, mocking him, destroying his hero notebook page by page.
I'd been at my locker, putting away books, when I heard the commotion and walked over.
"That's enough."
My voice came out flat and emotionless. The temperature around us dropped noticeably.
Bakugo turned, smirking. "Or what, Ice Boy? You gonna—"
I didn't let him finish. Just created a wall of ice between him and Izuku.
"You're going to leave," I said. "Now."
"You can't tell me what to do!"
"I'm not telling you. I'm informing you of what's about to happen." The ice wall grew thicker. "You'll leave, or I'll encase all three of you in ice and carry you to the principal's office. Your choice."
Tsubasa's wings fluttered nervously. "You wouldn't."
"Try me."
"Whatever. Let's go. Deku's not worth it anyway."
They left with the ice wall melted, water pooling on the floor.
Izuku was staring at me. "Kori? Are you okay?"
Was I? I felt... calm and satisfied.
"Yeah. I'm fine." I helped him gather his notebook pages. "Are you?"
"You were scary just then. Like, really scary."
"Sorry."
"No, I mean... it was cool. In a weird way. You had everything under control."
"Yeah, you're right, I did."
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Winter brought snow, and with it, a discovery.
I could manipulate existing ice and snow like it was part of my body. Not just create new ice but also control what was already there.
The revelation happened during a snowball fight at the park. Some older kids were pelting younger ones, being jerks about it. Without thinking, I'd reached out toward their snowballs and just... stopped them. Mid-air. Frozen in place.
Then I'd turned them around and sent them back twice as fast.
The older kids had run, terrified.
Izuku had looked at me with wide eyes. "You can control snow you didn't make?"
"Apparently? I didn't know I could do that."
"That's amazing! Do you know what this means?"
"That snowball fights are going to be really unfair?"
"No! Well, yes, but also, you can use environmental ice! Sleet, frozen puddles, snow on the ground. You're not limited to what you create!"
He was right. And it opened up possibilities I hadn't considered.
If I could manipulate existing ice, then winter made me exponentially more powerful. Every frozen surface became a weapon or tool. Every snowfall became ammunition.
I was starting to understand the scope of this quirk and it was terrifying. In the best possible way.
By the time first grade ended, the social dynamics has been set.
Bakugo ruled his section of the class through intimidation and charisma. Tsubasa and Tesaki were his lieutenants. A rotating cast of other kids orbited them, seeking approval and status.
Izuku and I had our own smaller group. Yuna had stuck with us, along with Kenji and Hina. A couple of other kids, outcasts, weirdos, the ones who didn't fit Bakugo's mold had gravitated toward us, too.
We were the "nerds." The kids who talked about hero theory instead of quirk power. Who actually paid attention in class. Who didn't see quirklessness as a death sentence.
I'd grown to 121 centimeters, officially tall enough to look most eight-year-olds in the eye. My quirk control had improved to the point where I could maintain multiple ice constructs simultaneously. My skating had hit a level where even the high schoolers at the park asked me for tips.
And Izuku had learned to ollie consistently, started developing his own hero costume designs, and filled three entire notebooks with hero analysis.
We were building something together that was going to be the foundation for futures we couldn't quite see yet, but believed in anyway.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
A/N: Hope y'all are enjoying the story so far, trust me, the childhood arc isn't going to be filler, some dark shit is going to go down in the future.
I'm also starting a powerstone goal. I appreciate all the powerstones you guys have given me so far; it's really motivated me to keep writing this story. We're only three chapters in, excluding this one, and are already close to thirty powerstones! Thank you guys.
78 Powerstones equals 1 bonus chapter
178 Powerstones equals 2 bonus chapters