Haruto's first birthday party was a small affair—just family and the Midoriyas. His parents had wanted to invite more people, but Haruto had been fussy all week (strategically fussy, because large gatherings sounded exhausting), and they'd decided to keep it intimate.
The cake was shaped like All Might's face.
Haruto stared at it, wondering if this was going to be his entire childhood. All Might everything. All Might everywhere. The man's influence was inescapable.
"Make a wish, sweetie!" his mother held him up to the cake, which had a single candle burning in the center of All Might's forehead.
Haruto looked at the candle. At one year old, he was supposed to make a wish. Something simple, probably. Something a normal baby would wish for.
*I wish I knew what I was doing,* he thought, then blew out the candle.
Everyone cheered. His father took roughly a thousand pictures. Izuku clapped so hard his hands had to hurt.
"What'd you wish for?" Izuku asked, bouncing in his seat.
"Can't tell," Haruto said. "Won't come true."
"That's right," Inko confirmed. "Birthday wishes are secret."
"I bet he wished for a really cool quirk!" Izuku declared. "Right, Haru-kun? Did you wish for a cool quirk?"
Actually, Haruto had wished for clarity, for certainty, for some sign that he was doing the right thing. But sure, a cool quirk worked too.
"Maybe," Haruto said noncommittally.
The party continued. Cake was eaten—Haruto got more on his face than in his mouth, which his mother documented extensively. Presents were opened—mostly clothes and educational toys that Haruto had no interest in.
But then his father pulled out a larger box, wrapped in bright paper.
"This one's special," he said, setting it in front of Haruto. "Your mother and I picked it out together."
Haruto tore at the paper with his chubby hands, which was harder than it looked. Eventually, with some help, the wrapping came off to reveal a wooden box with a latch.
Inside were gardening tools. Tiny ones, sized for a child. A small trowel, a watering can, packets of seeds.
"We thought," his mother said softly, "since you like plants so much, you might want to try growing some. We can start a little garden on the balcony."
Haruto stared at the tools. They'd noticed. Of course they'd noticed. He was always drawn to plants, always touching leaves and grass, always watching things grow. It was instinctive, probably some precursor to whatever quirk he'd manifest.
If he manifested the quirk he wanted, these tools would be obsolete. He'd be able to grow forests with a thought.
But right now, in this moment, they were perfect.
"Thank you," Haruto said quietly, running his fingers over the smooth wooden handle of the trowel.
His mother looked like she might cry. His father definitely was crying.
"You're welcome, sweetheart," she whispered, pulling him into a hug.
Izuku leaned over to inspect the tools. "Wow! You're gonna grow plants? Can I help? I wanna help!"
"Of course you can help," Haruto's mother said. "We can all garden together."
The rest of the party passed in a blur of cake and laughter and Izuku trying to convince everyone that they should grow All Might-shaped flowers (which wasn't how flowers worked, but nobody had the heart to tell him).
By the time the Midoriyas left, Haruto was exhausted. His mother put him to bed early, the gardening tools placed carefully on his dresser where he could see them.
"One year old," she murmured, brushing his hair back. "My baby is one year old. You're growing up so fast."
*Not fast enough,* Haruto thought, but he kept his eyes closed and let her think he was already asleep.
---
Two weeks after his birthday, Haruto discovered that being able to walk meant his mother was much more willing to take him to the park.
"Fresh air is good for growing bodies," she declared, strapping him into his stroller despite the fact that he could walk now. "And you can practice walking on the grass!"
The park was busier than Haruto remembered from his crawling days. Kids ran everywhere, parents chatted on benches, and somewhere in the distance, someone's quirk was making flowers bloom in spirals.
"Look, Haru!" his mother pointed. "Other children! Maybe you'll make some new friends!"
Haruto very much doubted that, but he let her lift him out of the stroller and set him on the grass.
The ground felt different under his feet than the apartment floor. Uneven. Alive, in a way that made something in his chest stir.
He took a step. Then another. His balance was better now after two weeks of practice.
"That's it! You're doing great!" His mother hovered nearby, hands out like she expected him to fall any second.
Haruto ignored her and kept walking, drawn toward a cluster of dandelions growing near a tree. Up close, he could see every detail—the yellow petals, the green stem, the way the roots dug into the soil.
He reached out and touched one.
Something shifted.
It was subtle, barely there, but Haruto felt it. A connection, like a thread pulling taut between him and the plant. Not his quirk—not yet—but a *promise* of it. A hint of what was coming.
The dandelion seemed to brighten under his touch, its petals opening wider.
"Haru-kun!"
Haruto turned to see Izuku running toward him, Inko following at a more sedate pace. Izuku had gotten better at walking over the past two weeks, though he still looked like a drunk penguin when he ran.
"You're at the park!" Izuku announced unnecessarily. "We're at the park too! Now we can play at the park together!"
"What a coincidence," Inko said, smiling at Haruto's mother. "I didn't know you'd be here today."
"Last minute decision. The weather was too nice to stay inside."
The mothers drifted toward a nearby bench, already deep in conversation. Izuku plopped down next to Haruto, eyeing the dandelions.
"What're you doing?"
"Looking," Haruto said.
"At flowers?"
"Yeah."
"Oh." Izuku thought about this. "Can I look too?"
"Sure."
They both stared at the dandelions in silence for a moment. Haruto could feel that strange connection still, like the plant was aware of him somehow.
"They're pretty," Izuku said finally. "But they're weeds, right? That's what Mama says. Weeds are flowers growing in the wrong place."
Haruto frowned. He'd never thought about it that way. In his previous life, he'd barely noticed plants at all. Now, with whatever was happening to his quirk, every plant felt important. Significant.
"Not wrong," Haruto said. "Just... different."
"Different how?"
"They grow where they want. Not where people tell them."
Izuku's eyes went wide. "Wow. That's really smart, Haru-kun. You're really smart."
Haruto wasn't sure that was smart so much as obvious, but he didn't argue.
"DEKU!"
Both boys looked up sharply.
A kid was running toward them—blonde hair spiked up, red eyes gleaming with excitement, explosion happening in his hands.
Wait.
Explosions.
Haruto stared as Bakugo Katsuki skidded to a stop in front of them, hands still sparking with tiny detonations.
His quirk had manifested.
"Did you see?" Bakugo demanded, shoving his hands in Izuku's face. "Did you see? My quirk came in! Look! Explosions!"
He set off another small blast, and Izuku flinched back.
"Whoa! That's so cool, Kacchan!"
"I know, right?" Bakugo's grin was huge. "The doctor said it's really strong! Stronger than most kids my age! I'm gonna be the best hero ever!"
He finally noticed Haruto. "Oh. You're here."
"Hi," Haruto said evenly.
Bakugo looked him up and down, then shrugged. "You got your quirk yet?"
"No."
"Well, mine's better anyway." He turned back to Izuku. "Come on, Deku! Let's play heroes! I'll be the hero and you can be the villain I defeat!"
"But I wanna be a hero too," Izuku protested weakly.
"You can't be the hero. I'm the hero. You don't even have a quirk yet."
"Neither does Haru-kun!"
Bakugo glanced at Haruto again, and something calculating passed through his eyes. Even at four years old, Bakugo was already sizing up the competition.
"Whatever. You're both quirkless losers until you prove otherwise." He pointed at Izuku. "Come on. We're playing."
It wasn't a request.
Izuku looked at Haruto apologetically. "Um, I should probably—"
"Go," Haruto said. "It's fine."
"You sure?"
Haruto nodded. Watching the Bakugo-Izuku dynamic unfold was actually useful. He needed to see how their relationship worked, how Bakugo treated Izuku, where the bullying started.
So he could stop it. Eventually. When he had the power to do so.
Izuku ran off with Bakugo, who was already barking orders about how their game would go. Haruto turned back to his dandelions, placing his hand on another one.
The connection flared stronger this time.
The flower's stem straightened, just a little. The petals brightened, becoming more vibrant.
Haruto's breath caught. That was his doing. Somehow, even without a manifested quirk, he was affecting the plant.
"Haru?"
His mother was there suddenly, kneeling beside him. "What are you doing, sweetie?"
"Flowers," Haruto said, which was becoming his default explanation for everything.
"They are pretty, aren't they?" She didn't seem to notice that the one he was touching looked healthier than the others. "Are you okay? Do you want to play with the other children?"
Haruto looked over to where Bakugo was making Izuku play the villain again, complete with explosion sound effects and demands for proper dramatic villain dialogue.
"No," Haruto said. "Stay here."
"Okay." His mother settled onto the grass beside him, content to sit in comfortable silence while Haruto experimented with his proto-quirk.
Over the next hour, Haruto learned several things:
One: He could definitely affect plants, even without his quirk fully manifesting.
Two: It was exhausting. After touching five dandelions, his head started hurting.
Three: His mother had noticed nothing, which meant the effects were subtle enough to miss.
Four: Bakugo Katsuki with a quirk was somehow even more insufferable than Bakugo without one.
"I WIN AGAIN!" Bakugo's voice carried across the park. "See, Deku? Heroes always win! Always!"
Izuku, grass-stained and tired, just nodded. "You're really strong, Kacchan."
"I know!"
Haruto watched this exchange and felt something cold settle in his stomach. This was how it started. Bakugo, drunk on his new power, and Izuku, always willing to be the stepping stone.
It would get worse. He knew it would get worse.
Unless Haruto changed it.
"Haru-kun!" Izuku ran over, panting. "Did you see Kacchan's quirk? It's so cool! Explosions!"
"I saw."
"I hope my quirk is cool too when I get it! What do you think yours will be?"
Haruto touched another dandelion, felt it respond to him. "Plants," he said simply.
"That's gonna be so useful!" Izuku flopped down on the grass beside him. "You could grow food for people! Or make trees to stop floods! Or—or—or flowers to make hospitals prettier!"
Trust Izuku to immediately think of all the ways a quirk could help people.
Bakugo strutted over, hands shoved in his pockets in that way he'd probably seen some hero do on TV. "Plants? That's boring."
"Kacchan!" Izuku protested. "That's mean!"
"It's true! Explosions are way cooler than plants. Right?" He looked at Haruto challengingly.
Haruto met his eyes calmly. "Different," he said. "Not better or worse. Different."
Bakugo's eyes narrowed. "You saying my quirk's not the best?"
"Saying they're different."
"That's the same thing!"
"It's not."
"Is too!"
"Boys," a woman's voice called out. A blonde woman in designer clothes approached—Bakugo's mother, Haruto realized. "Katsuki, stop arguing. We need to go."
"But Mom—"
"Now."
Bakugo huffed but started walking toward his mother. He paused, looked back at Haruto. "My quirk's still better," he declared, then ran off.
Izuku sighed. "Sorry about Kacchan. He's just excited about his quirk."
"It's fine."
"He's not usually this... um..."
"Mean?"
"I was gonna say energetic, but yeah, maybe a little mean." Izuku picked at the grass. "He's been my friend since we were really little though. He'll calm down."
Haruto didn't have the heart to tell him that Bakugo would not, in fact, calm down. Not for years. Not until pain and failure taught him humility.
Instead, he just said, "Maybe."
Inko called Izuku over, and soon the Midoriyas were leaving too. Haruto and his mother stayed a bit longer, until the sun started setting and the air got cold.
"Did you have fun?" his mother asked, buckling him back into the stroller.
Haruto thought about the dandelions, about the strange proto-quirk awakening, about Bakugo's manifestation and Izuku's unwavering optimism.
"Yeah," he said, because it was easier than explaining the complicated truth.
On the walk home, Haruto stared up at the sky, watching clouds drift past.
Bakugo had his quirk now. Soon, very soon, Izuku would go to the doctor and learn he was quirkless. The timeline was progressing, events unfolding just like they had in the original story.
And Haruto still didn't have a clear plan beyond "get strong enough to change things."
His hand curled into a fist.
Soon. His quirk would manifest soon. It had to. He could feel it building, could sense the power waiting just beneath his skin.