Three weeks into kindergarten, and Haruto had made several observations:
One: Miss Aoki had unlimited energy and it was terrifying.
Two: Takeshi would eat anything if you dared him.
Three: Izuku's note-taking had attracted attention.
"What's he doing?" a kid named Ryo asked, pointing at Izuku during recess.
"Documenting quirks," Haruto said, watching Izuku scribble frantically while observing two kids play-fighting.
"Why?"
"Because he's Izuku."
"That's weird."
"We know."
Ryo shrugged and wandered off to join a game of tag. Mina appeared, slightly out of breath and covered in dirt.
"Haru! Come play tag with us!"
"I'm supervising."
"That's boring!"
"That's efficient."
"You can't just watch everyone play! That's—that's—"
"Strategic observation?"
"—BORING!" Mina grabbed his arm. "Come ON! You need to run around!"
"I run during training with Bakugo."
"That's different! This is FUN running!"
"All running is the same."
"INFO-DUMP!" Izuku called without looking up from his notebook. "Mina's about to explain the psychological differences between exercise running and play running!"
"I wasn't gonna—" Mina paused. "Okay, I was totally gonna do that."
"We know you too well," Haruto said.
"Is that good or bad?"
"Yes."
Eventually, Mina dragged him into a game of tag, which ended with Haruto being "it" and immediately sitting down to wait out the game.
"That's not how tag works!" someone protested.
"You can't catch me if I don't move."
"But that's—that's—"
"Strategic."
Miss Aoki intervened before a philosophical debate about tag rules could break out.
"Everyone inside! Snack time!"
The class thundered back into the building like a small stampede. Haruto followed at a more sedate pace, noting that the playground trees were gossiping about the children.
The loud one with explosions isn't here anymore, one tree observed. It's quieter.
I miss the chaos, another tree admitted. It was interesting.
"You have weird taste," Haruto muttered.
"Talking to the trees again?" Mina asked, somehow appearing next to him.
"They miss Bakugo."
"The TREES miss him?"
"They found him entertaining."
"Even the trees think Kacchan's loud," Izuku said, joining them. "That's actually kind of amazing."
Snack time brought its own drama. Miss Aoki had brought apple slices, and the apples had opinions.
We were alive yesterday, they complained. Now we're SLICES.
The indignity, another agreed. SLICES!
"Are you okay, Haruto?" Miss Aoki asked, noticing his pained expression.
"The apples are loud."
The class had gotten used to Haruto's plant commentary by now. Most ignored it. Some found it entertaining.
"What are they saying?" Hana asked, genuinely curious.
"They're upset about being sliced."
"Makes sense," Takeshi said. "I'd be upset too."
"You eat everything," Mina pointed out.
"Doesn't mean I don't understand their pain."
"That's actually very empathetic, Takeshi," Miss Aoki said.
"Can I eat the emotional apples now?"
"Yes, you may have your snack."
Izuku raised his hand. "Miss Aoki, do all plants have feelings? Or just the ones Haruto can hear?"
"That's a great question! Who knows what Izuku is asking about?"
Several hands went up. The class had learned that Izuku's questions usually led to interesting discussions.
"All plants have some level of response to stimuli," Miss Aoki explained. "But whether they have 'feelings' the way we do is complicated. Haruto's quirk lets him sense something about them that most people can't."
"So he's like a plant translator?" Ryo asked.
"That's actually a good way to put it!"
"That's so cool!" Hana said. "You should be a plant hero! Like, save trees and stuff!"
"Or fight villains with trees!" another kid added.
"TREE JUSTICE!" Takeshi shouted, holding up an apple slice.
"Let's not shout about justice during snack time," Miss Aoki said, trying not to laugh.
Haruto watched this unfold with resignation. His quirk had somehow become a class discussion topic.
"You okay?" Izuku whispered.
"Everyone's talking about me."
"They think you're cool."
"I'm not cool. I talk to plants."
"Cool plant talking."
"That's not a thing."
"It is now."
After school, they had their regular training session. Bakugo was already at the park, setting up obstacles with manic energy.
"YOU'RE LATE!" he shouted when they arrived.
"We're five minutes early," Haruto said, checking the time.
"That's LATE!"
"That's not how time works."
"It is in TRAINING TIME!"
"Training time isn't real time," Mina said.
"ALL TIME IS TRAINING TIME!"
Tamaki appeared, looking amused as always. "How was school, everyone?"
"Great!" Izuku pulled out his notebook. "I documented seven new quirks and their applications! And Miss Aoki taught us about plant biology which was really interesting because—"
"INFO-DUMP INCOMING!" the other three chorused.
"—okay, right, sorry! But it WAS interesting!"
"How's the hero academy, Katsuki?" Tamaki asked.
"AWESOME!" Bakugo's eyes lit up. "We have COMBAT TRAINING! Real combat training! With DUMMIES and TARGETS and—"
"You're four years old," Tamaki said. "What kind of combat training?"
"We learn how to HIT THINGS!"
"That's not combat training. That's hitting things."
"TACTICAL hitting things!"
"Still just hitting things."
Bakugo deflated slightly. "It's cool though. We learned about hero stances and everything."
"I'm sure it's very educational," Tamaki said diplomatically. "Now, warm-ups. Everyone give me ten jumping jacks."
"TEN?!" Mina protested. "Last week it was five!"
"You're getting stronger. Standards increase."
"That's not fair!"
"Life isn't fair. Jumping jacks. Now."
They did their jumping jacks, with varying degrees of success. Bakugo did fifteen just to show off. Izuku made it to eight before getting winded. Mina accidentally melted a small patch of grass. Haruto completed exactly ten and then stopped.
"Good," Tamaki said. "Now we're working on quirk precision today. Haruto, I want you to make that flower—" she pointed to a dandelion, "—grow exactly two inches. No more, no less."
"Two inches exactly?"
"Exactly."
"That's very specific."
"That's the point. Precision matters."
Haruto approached the dandelion, which immediately started chattering.
Oh! Oh! It's the plant-talker! Hello! Are you going to make me grow? I want to grow! I'm ready!
"Enthusiastic dandelion," Haruto muttered.
He focused, pushing just enough energy to achieve two inches of growth. The dandelion stretched upward, eager and cooperative.
One inch. Two inches. Two and a quarter inches.
"Too much," Tamaki said. "Try again with that one." She pointed to another dandelion.
This happened four more times before Haruto finally managed exactly two inches.
"Better," Tamaki said. "Practice makes perfect."
"Bakugo, your turn. I want an explosion exactly the size of your palm. Not bigger. Not smaller."
"EASY!" Bakugo said, immediately proving it was not easy by creating an explosion twice the size of his palm.
"Again."
"But—"
"Again."
Mina had to control her acid output to dissolve exactly one leaf. Izuku was tasked with running a specific distance and stopping precisely at a marker.
Everyone struggled. Everyone complained. Everyone improved slightly.
"You're all doing great," Tamaki said at the end. "Real progress."
"It doesn't feel like progress," Mina said, flopping on the grass. "It feels like torture."
"Same thing."
"That's terrible!"
"But true."
Walking home, Izuku was unusually quiet.
"You okay?" Haruto asked.
"Yeah. Just thinking."
"About?"
"Everyone's working on quirk control. Even me, I'm working on physical training. But it feels like..." He trailed off.
"Like you're behind?"
"Yeah."
"You're not."
"But I don't have a quirk—"
"You have a brain. That's better."
Izuku looked at him, surprised. "You think so?"
"Yeah. Bakugo's strong, but he's impulsive. Mina's enthusiastic, but she's reckless. I can grow plants, but I think too much. You analyze everything. That's useful."
"Kacchan says thinking too much is useless."
"Bakugo says a lot of things. Most of them are wrong."
Izuku laughed, the sound surprised out of him. "Don't let him hear you say that."
"He already knows I think he's wrong. I tell him daily."
"That's true."
They reached their apartment building, where their mothers were waiting in the lobby.
"How was training?" Haruto's mother asked.
"Precise," Haruto said.
"Torturous!" Izuku added, then immediately looked guilty. "But good! Educational torture!"
"That's not reassuring, sweetie," Inko said.
"Tamaki's tough but fair," Haruto explained. "She makes us better."
"That's good to hear." His mother ruffled his hair. "Come on, let's get dinner started."
At dinner, his parents asked about school.
"Learn anything interesting?" his father asked.
"Plant biology. And that Takeshi will eat anything, including emotional apples."
"Emotional apples?"
"They were upset about being sliced."
His parents exchanged a look.
"The apples were upset," his mother repeated carefully.
"Very upset. They had a whole thing about dignity."
"Of course they did," his father said. "Why wouldn't they?"
"Exactly."
After dinner, Haruto visited Gerald for their evening debrief.
"Kindergarten's interesting," he said.
"Good interesting or bad interesting?"
"Both. The trees miss Bakugo. The apples were dramatic. A kid called me cool."
"You are cool."
"I talk to plants."
"Cool plant talking."
"You sound like Izuku."
"Izuku is wise beyond his years."
"He's four."
"And yet."
They sat quietly for a moment.
"Gerald?"
"Yes?"
"Thanks for being normal. Well, normal for a philosophical fern."
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"Don't let it go to your head."
"My head is very large now. Full of compliments and wisdom."
"I regret everything."
"Too late. I'm wise AND appreciated now."
Haruto smiled despite himself. Gerald was ridiculous, but in a way that made life better.
Inside, his parents were cleaning up. The cherry tree sapling rustled contentedly. Somewhere in the city, plants were gossiping about their day.
Everything was normal. Peaceful. Good.
Kindergarten was exhausting, but manageable. Training was hard, but worthwhile. Friends were loud, but loyal.
Life was complicated, but okay.
And that was enough.
The next day at school, Miss Aoki had an announcement.
"We're going to have a parent visiting day next week! Your parents can come see what we do in class!"
The class erupted in mixed reactions. Some kids were excited. Some were horrified. Takeshi asked if parents counted as edible.
"No, Takeshi. Parents are not edible."
"But technically—"
"No."
Haruto raised his hand. "Do they have to come?"
"They're strongly encouraged to! It's a wonderful opportunity for them to see your learning environment!"
"That's not a yes or no answer."
"It's a 'yes but I'm being diplomatic about it' answer."
Haruto slumped in his seat. His mother would definitely come. She'd probably bring a camera. His father would take the day off work.
It would be a whole thing.
"This'll be fun!" Izuku said. "Our moms can see us learning!"
"Your definition of fun is broken."
"Is not!"
"Is too."
"Is—"
"Boys," Miss Aoki interrupted gently. "Inside voices."
"Sorry, Miss Aoki," they chorused.
Mina leaned over. "My mom's gonna embarrass me. I just know it."
"All parents embarrass their kids," Haruto said. "It's universal."
"That's not comforting."
"It's realistic."
"Same thing."
"No it's not."
"Is too."
"We're not doing this again," Haruto said firmly.
Miss Aoki clapped her hands. "Alright, everyone! Let's practice our welcome song for the visiting parents!"
"There's a SONG?!" several kids groaned.
"There's always a song!" Miss Aoki said cheerfully.
Haruto put his head down on his desk.
It was going to be a long week.