Chapter 4: The Courtroom of the Four-Year-Old
The morning of Hiromi Higuruma's fourth birthday dawned with a clarity that felt almost artificial. In the elite district of Minato, the sun didn't just rise; it seemed to perform for the Higuruma estate, casting long, golden fingers across the manicured zen gardens and reflecting off the polished silver platters that lined the outdoor banquet tables.
To the outside world, this was a celebration of a prodigy's milestone. To Hiromi, it was the date of a pre-ordained deposition.
The garden was a sea of silk, linen, and subtle power. High-ranking officials from the Hero Public Safety Commission rubbed shoulders with CEOs of support-item conglomerates. Daichi Higuruma, the master of this domain, moved through the throng like a shark in a school of reef fish. He wore a suit that cost more than a mid-range car, his smile a masterpiece of practiced, legalistic charm.
"A monumental day, Daichi," remarked the elder Yaoyorozu, a man whose very presence commanded a gravitational pull of respect. He sipped a rare oolong tea, his eyes moving toward the silent child sitting on a stone bench. "The awakening of a Quirk in a lineage as intellectually gifted as yours... the potential is staggering. Perhaps our children—your Hiromi and my Momo—will one day draft the constitutional laws of the next century together."
Daichi's laugh was smooth, like aged whiskey. "The law is a family tradition, Yaoyorozu-san. But in this era, the law is only as strong as the power that backs it. I expect Hiromi to provide a very strong back indeed."
The Internal Pressure
Hiromi sat perfectly still, his small hands folded in his lap. To the guests, he was the picture of the 'perfect child'—quiet, observant, and unnervingly mature. But internally, Hiromi felt as though his marrow had been replaced with liquid lead. His skin tingled with a static charge that grew more intense with every passing minute, a localized atmospheric pressure that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.
"It's here," he thought, his adult mind analyzing the biological shift with cold precision. "The Fourth Year Threshold. In this world, it is the biological 'Update.' But what I feel... this isn't just a Quirk. It's an Innate Domain struggling to manifest in a reality that wasn't built for it."
He looked at his father. He saw the grease of corruption on the man's soul. He looked at the Hero Commission officials and saw the "confidential settlements" they had signed to hide the collateral damage of their favorite icons. The hypocrisy of the garden was a physical stench in his nostrils.
The Trigger: A Breach of Order
The escalation happened during the ceremonial cake cutting. A distant cousin, a boisterous seven-year-old named Katsuo, had been emboldened by the festive atmosphere. Katsuo possessed a minor kinetic Quirk—the ability to repel objects with a short-range burst of force. Seeking to assert his dominance over the "weird" birthday boy, Katsuo lunged forward, aiming to shove Hiromi face-first into the towering, multi-tiered confection.
"Hey, Law-boy! Lighten up!" Katsuo yelled, his palms glowing with a faint, shimmering light.
As Katsuo's hands made contact with Hiromi's shoulder, the world didn't just react; it broke.
The air in the garden didn't turn cold; it turned vacant. The laughter of the socialites died in their throats as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. The birds in the cherry blossoms stopped mid-chirp. A heavy, invisible weight descended upon the estate—a moral gravity that forced the elite of Japan to their knees.
Daichi Higuruma felt the wind knocked out of him as he slumped against a mahogany table, his expensive tea shattering on the marble. "Wh-what is this? My body... it won't move!"
Manifestation: The Arrival of Judgeman
From the shadow cast by Hiromi's small form, a massive, horrifyingly majestic figure began to rise. It did not appear as a flashy superhero or a typical Quirk manifestation. It rose with the slow, deliberate finality of a closing door.
The entity was draped in pitch-black executioner's robes that seemed to swallow the very sunlight around them, creating a localized event horizon of darkness. Its face was a smooth, featureless mask of ivory, devoid of eyes, nose, or mouth. Instead, a heavy, blood-red blindfold was wrapped around the head, trailing off into the windless air. In its clawed, metallic hands, it held a pair of massive golden scales that hummed with a low-frequency vibration that rattled the teeth of everyone present.
"Judgeman," Hiromi whispered, his voice sounding oddly distant to his own ears.
The entity wasn't a "power"; it was a Sentience. It was the physical manifestation of the concept of the Court. In Hiromi's right hand, a wooden gavel manifested. It was heavy, made of a dark, ancient wood that felt warm to the touch, pulsating with the rhythm of a heartbeat.
Hiromi turned his gaze toward the guests. His vision had shifted. He no longer saw "people." He saw Case Files.
Floating above the businessman to his left was a spectral ledger detailing three decades of tax evasion and wage theft. Above the Hero-trainee to his right, a flickering image of a covered-up assault charge from his academy days. And above his father... he saw a mountain of "Fixed" verdicts and bribed officials.
"Court is now in session," Hiromi said. His voice was a terrifying composite—the high-pitched timbre of a four-year-old layered with a booming, ancient resonance that felt like it was being spoken by the earth itself.
The First Verdict
The golden scales tipped violently toward the right as Judgeman's sightless face turned toward the cousin, Katsuo. The entity let out a sound like a thousand iron gates slamming shut at once.
[GUILTY]
The word appeared in the air, written in strokes of black fire.
Immediately, the shimmering kinetic energy in Katsuo's hands vanished. The boy let out a pathetic yelp as he fell flat on his face, clutching his chest. He tried to activate his Quirk, to push himself up, but there was nothing. The "spark" within his DNA—the very essence of his superhuman identity—had been snuffed out as if it had never existed.
"Confiscation," Hiromi muttered, looking down at his gavel. "Under the jurisdiction of this court, your right to use force has been revoked for the duration of the trial."
The crushing pressure vanished as quickly as it had arrived. The garden returned to the sounds of the afternoon, but the atmosphere had been permanently altered. The elite of Japan scrambled to their feet, looking at the four-year-old boy not with affection, but with a genuine, primal terror. They had spent their lives manipulating the law; they had never encountered a Law that could fight back.
The New Path
Daichi was the first to recover, though his face remained the color of ash. He stared at the shadow where Judgeman had been, his mind already spinning with the legal and political implications. "A Judicial Quirk... a sentient Domain... Hiromi, do you realize what this means? You won't just be a lawyer. You will be the one who decides who is allowed to hold power at all! You could control the entire Hero industry!"
His mother, Emi, rushed forward, her eyes wet with tears. She gathered Hiromi into her arms, shielding him from the hungry, ambitious look in his father's eyes. "He's just a child, Daichi! Look at him! He's exhausted!"
Hiromi wasn't exhausted. He was lucid. For the first time in two lives, the world made sense. He looked at his mother's warmth, then at his father's greed, and then at the spot where Judgeman had stood.
"I didn't just inherit his power," Hiromi realized, a cold, thin smile touching his lips. "I inherited the ability to stop the wheel. This world is obsessed with Quirks—with the 'What' of power. I am the only one who cares about the 'Why.' If they cannot be just with their power, I will simply take it away."
"I'm not going to be a lawyer in your firm, Father," Hiromi said, gently but firmly pulling away from his mother's embrace to stand on his own. He adjusted his imaginary glasses, a ghost of his thirty-two-year-old self manifesting in his posture. "I'm going to U.A. High. I'm going to be a Hero."
"A Hero?" Daichi laughed, a jagged, nervous sound. "With a power that shuts people down? That strips them of their identity? The public will hate you, Hiromi! You'll be viewed as a villain in a cape!"
"Let them hate me," Hiromi replied, his dark eyes narrowing with the finality of a life sentence. "Justice isn't a popularity contest. It's a verdict. And this world has been in recess for far too long."
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Author's Note: I have rewritten and expanded this chapter to triple the word count and focus on the visceral, terrifying nature of Hiromi's awakening. This isn't just a "superpower"—it's a metaphysical shift that terrifies the status quo. We are setting the stage for a version of Hiromi who isn't just a lawyer, but a true Arbiter of the Hero world. If you're enjoying this darker, more detailed take, please show your support!