Ten months old, and Haruto could crawl.
Not well. Not gracefully. But he could move under his own power, which meant freedom. Limited, exhausting freedom that left his arms and legs aching, but freedom nonetheless.
His mother had baby-proofed the apartment within an inch of its life. Outlet covers on everything. Foam bumpers on sharp corners. Cabinet locks that even Haruto's adult mind found confusing. She'd turned their home into a padded cell, and honestly, Haruto couldn't blame her.
He'd already tried to pull himself up using the coffee table and face-planted into the carpet. Twice.
Infant bodies were treacherous.
"Where are you going, little explorer?" his mother called from the kitchen, where she was preparing lunch.
Haruto ignored her, focused on his current mission: reaching the bookshelf. His father kept hero magazines on the bottom shelf, and Haruto wanted to look at them. Not because he cared about the rankings or the flashy photos, but because they had information. Updates on which heroes were active, which agencies were hiring, which villains had been captured recently.
Even small details mattered when you were trying to understand how this world worked.
He'd made it halfway across the living room when someone knocked on the door.
"Coming!" his mother wiped her hands on a towel and went to answer it.
Haruto heard Inko's voice before he saw her. "I hope we're not intruding! Izuku was asking about Haruto, and I thought—"
"You're never intruding! Come in, come in!"
Footsteps, and then suddenly Izuku was there, dropped onto the carpet near Haruto like a small green meteor. He'd grown since their last playdate a month ago—more hair, more teeth, more energy if that was even possible.
"Haru-kun!" Izuku's whole face lit up. "Guess what? Guess what? I learned to clap! Look!"
He demonstrated, smacking his hands together enthusiastically if not particularly rhythmically. Haruto had been able to clap for two months now, but he dutifully clapped back because that seemed to be what Izuku wanted.
"We're both clapping!" Izuku announced, delighted by this development. "We're so good at it!"
The bar for entertainment at ten months old was remarkably low.
"Oh, they're adorable together," Inko said, and Haruto could hear the smile in her voice. "Izuku talks about Haruto all the time. 'Haru-kun this, Haru-kun that.' I think he's decided they're best friends."
"Haruto's the same way," his mother lied smoothly. Haruto definitely did not talk about Izuku all the time. Mostly because Haruto barely talked at all, which was starting to concern his parents though they tried to hide it.
The pediatrician said some babies were just quiet. That he'd talk when he was ready.
If only they knew he was quiet because he was busy thinking, observing, planning. Talking seemed like a waste of energy when there was so much to figure out.
"I brought some toys," Inko said, pulling out a bag. "Thought the boys could play together while we have tea."
The toys turned out to be more action figures. Of course. Izuku's collection had apparently multiplied since Haruto last saw it.
"This one's new," Izuku said, shoving a figure into Haruto's face. "It's Ryukyu! She turns into a dragon! A DRAGON, Haru-kun! That's so cool!"
Haruto took the toy, examining it with more interest than he'd shown the others. Ryukyu. He remembered her from the Shie Hassaikai raid. She'd been instrumental in the fight against the Eight Precepts of Death.
Which meant she was already active as a hero. Already building her agency. Already training sidekicks who would one day include some of UA's best students.
Time was moving forward whether Haruto was ready or not.
"You like her?" Izuku asked eagerly. "I think she's amazing! Dragons are so strong! And she's really nice too. All the heroes are nice. That's what makes them heroes!"
Haruto made a noncommittal sound. Nice didn't stop villains. Nice didn't prevent massacres. Nice was how you got people killed because you hesitated at the crucial moment.
But he couldn't explain that to a ten-month-old who thought the world was divided neatly into heroes and villains, good and bad, with no gray area in between.
Izuku would learn eventually. They all did.
"Can we have All Might fight the dragon?" Izuku asked, already pulling out his prized All Might figure. "No wait—they're both heroes! They should team up! Yeah! Team up against... against..."
He looked around, spotted a stuffed animal, grabbed it. "Against the evil teddy bear!"
The evil teddy bear was bright pink with button eyes and a stitched smile. It looked about as threatening as a cloud.
"RAWR!" Izuku made the teddy bear roar. "I'm gonna destroy the city! Someone stop me!"
"Don't worry, citizens!" Izuku switched to a deeper voice, waving the All Might figure. "I am here! And I brought a dragon friend!"
Haruto watched this elaborate play unfold, torn between amusement and something like sadness. Izuku's world was so simple. Heroes saved people. Villains were defeated. Everyone lived happily ever after.
Reality was going to hit him like a freight train.
"Haru-kun, you be the people!" Izuku instructed, pushing some smaller figures toward him. "The people who need saving!"
Right. Because Haruto needed saving. That was basically his role in Izuku's games—the helpless civilian waiting for rescue.
He picked up one of the figures anyway, making it wave its tiny arms.
"Help! Help!" Izuku supplied the dialogue in a high-pitched voice. "The teddy bear is attacking!"
"Never fear!" All Might swooped in, and Izuku made increasingly elaborate sound effects that were honestly impressive for someone who couldn't even walk yet.
The battle raged across the living room carpet. All Might punched. Ryukyu breathed fire (apparently). The evil teddy bear fought back valiantly but ultimately fell to the combined might of the heroes.
"And they saved everyone!" Izuku declared triumphantly. "Everyone's safe and happy! The end!"
He looked at Haruto expectantly, waiting for... approval? Acknowledgment? Haruto wasn't sure.
He clapped. Izuku beamed.
"We should play heroes when we're bigger," Izuku said, setting down his toys and scooting closer. "Like, actually play. Running around and pretending and stuff. That'll be so fun!"
"When you get your quirks," Inko added from where she and Haruto's mother were sitting. "Then you can really play heroes properly."
"Yeah!" Izuku's eyes went wide. "Our quirks! Haru-kun, what kind of quirk do you want? I want something strong! Something that can help lots of people!"
Haruto stared at him. What kind of quirk did he want? That was easy. He wanted Mokuton. Wood Release. The power that had made Hashirama Senju a god among shinobi.
But more than that, he wanted control. Precision. The ability to reshape the battlefield, to trap enemies, to eliminate threats before they could hurt anyone.
He wanted power that looked gentle but was absolutely lethal.
"Something... growing," Haruto said carefully. The words came out clumsy, babyish, but intelligible. "Plants."
It was the first time he'd spoken in front of Izuku, and the other boy's face lit up like someone had flipped a switch.
"You can talk! Mama, Haru-kun can talk!"
"I heard!" Inko laughed. "That's wonderful, Haruto!"
His mother looked relieved. "See? I told you he'd talk when he was ready."
"Plants are a good quirk!" Izuku continued, apparently unbothered by Haruto's limited vocabulary. "You could make trees to catch people who are falling! Or flowers to make people happy! Or—or—you could trap villains in vines! That would be so cool!"
He'd basically just outlined several applications of Mokuton that Haruto had already been considering. The kid had tactical instincts, even if he didn't realize it yet.
"We could be a team," Izuku said, voice dropping to a whisper like he was sharing a secret. "When we get our quirks and become heroes. You and me. Best friends and hero partners!"
Hero partners.
The thought sat heavy in Haruto's chest. In the original timeline, Izuku's partner would be Bakugo—eventually. After years of rivalry and pain and growth. They'd become the greatest hero duo of their generation.
But Haruto was here now, changing things just by existing. What did that mean for the future? For Izuku's development? For the plot that was supposed to unfold?
"Yeah," Haruto said, because what else could he say? "Partners."
Izuku grabbed his hand, squeezing with surprising strength for someone so small. "Promise?"
Haruto looked at their linked hands. Izuku's were soft, unmarked, innocent. His own were the same on the outside, but inside...
Inside, they belonged to someone who'd already decided that some people didn't deserve to live. That mercy was a luxury the world couldn't afford. That saving everyone meant removing those who couldn't be saved.
Could he really promise to be Izuku's partner? To stand beside someone whose entire philosophy would be built on saving everyone, even the villains?
But Izuku was looking at him with those wide, trusting eyes, waiting for an answer.
"Promise," Haruto said.
It was a lie. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe he really would be Izuku's partner, just not in the way Izuku imagined. Maybe he'd be the darkness to Izuku's light, doing the things Izuku couldn't do, making the hard choices Izuku would never make.
Maybe that was the only way this could work.
Izuku didn't seem to notice Haruto's internal crisis. He just squeezed his hand once more, then released it to grab his All Might figure again.
"Okay! Now let's play the teddy bear comes back with a robot army!"
And just like that, they were back to playing. Izuku narrating elaborate battle scenes, Haruto moving figures around dutifully, their mothers watching fondly from the couch.
It was peaceful. Domestic. Normal.
It wouldn't last.
Haruto knew that with absolute certainty. This simple, innocent time was temporary. Soon, quirks would manifest. Izuku would learn he was quirkless. Bakugo would develop his explosive ego along with his explosive quirk. The real story would begin.
And Haruto would have to choose—again and again—between the promise he'd just made and the path he'd committed to walking.
But for now, for this moment, he could pretend.
He could sit on the carpet with his childhood friend, playing heroes and villains with plastic toys, while their mothers drank tea and talked about pediatrician appointments.
He could be ten months old and innocent and uncomplicated.
Even if it was all a lie.
Even if he knew exactly how this story was supposed to end.
---
The playdate stretched into late afternoon. Eventually, Haruto's father came home from work, and Izuku's father arrived to pick up his family. The adults all chatted in the doorway while Izuku clung to his father's leg, fighting obvious exhaustion.
"Say goodbye to Haruto," Inko prompted gently.
"Bye, Haru-kun," Izuku mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "See you soon?"
"Soon," Haruto agreed.
They left, and Haruto's mother closed the door with a soft click.
"You made a friend," she said, scooping Haruto up. "I'm so happy for you, sweetie. Izuku's a good boy. Kind, like you."
Kind.
Haruto leaned against her shoulder, suddenly exhausted. Maintaining the mask was tiring. Pretending to be a normal baby with normal thoughts was tiring. Everything about this second life was tiring in ways his first life never had been.
"Let's get you ready for bed," his mother murmured, carrying him toward his room.
The evening routine passed in a blur. Dinner—mashed something that probably used to be vegetables. Bath—lukewarm water and rubber ducks. Pajamas—soft and covered in cartoon animals. Story—one of those board books with three sentences per page and bright pictures.
Finally, mercifully, his mother laid him in his crib.
"Sweet dreams, my little hero," she whispered, kissing his forehead.
She turned on the night light—a small thing that projected stars on the ceiling—and left the room, door cracked open just like always.
Haruto lay there, watching the fake stars spin slowly above him.
A little hero, she'd called him.
The stars continued their lazy rotation, and Haruto felt sleep pulling at him. His infant body needed rest, even if his mind was still racing with plans and calculations and guilt.
Tomorrow, he'd wake up and do it all again. Play the part. Be the gentle, quiet baby who made his parents proud and his friend happy.
Because someone had to make the hard choices.
Someone had to do what the heroes wouldn't.
Even if that someone was currently wearing pajamas with little bears on them and sleeping in a crib.
Even if that someone had just promised to be partners with a boy who would one day represent everything he wasn't.
It would be fine.
It had to be fine.
Haruto closed his eyes and let sleep take him, the fake stars still spinning overhead, illuminating nothing but dreams of a future he was already working to change.
---