Six Months Later
Haruto was four and a half years old when his quirk decided to get ambitious.
It happened during training with Tamaki. They were working on growth speed control—making plants grow at specific rates rather than all at once.
"Slow and steady," Tamaki instructed. "Like you're conducting a symphony, not starting a race."
Haruto focused on the sapling in front of him, pushing energy gradually, carefully—
The sapling exploded into a full-grown tree.
Not a small tree. A fifteen-foot oak that hadn't been there three seconds ago.
"Haruto," Tamaki said calmly.
"I know."
"That was not slow and steady."
"I KNOW."
"That was the opposite of slow and steady."
"I'm AWARE."
They stared at the tree. The tree stared back—well, trees don't have eyes, but it gave the impression of staring.
Hello, it said in his mind. I'm confused. I was small. Now I'm big. This is concerning.
"You and me both," Haruto muttered.
"What's it saying?" Tamaki asked, resigned to his plant conversations.
"It's confused about being suddenly tall."
"Understandable." She pulled out her phone. "I'm calling your parents. And possibly the park service."
The park service was surprisingly understanding.
"This happens sometimes," the ranger said, examining the tree. "Quirk accidents. We'll just register it as an addition to the park."
"You're not mad?" Haruto's mother asked.
"Ma'am, last month someone accidentally created a pond. Before that, someone turned a bench into a tree. We're used to it."
"Oh. That's... good?"
"It's Musutafu. We adapt."
The tree—now officially a park feature—settled into its new existence with philosophical acceptance.
Well, I'm here now, it told Haruto. Might as well make the best of it.
"That's very mature," Haruto said.
"He's talking to it again," his father observed.
"At least it's not Herbert," his mother said. "Herbert sends messages through Gerald."
"The classroom plant has a communication network with our fern."
"Apparently plants gossip. Who knew?"
"Our life is so weird."
"We established that years ago."
School had gotten both easier and more complicated.
Easier because Haruto had memorized the routine, the expectations, the patterns. He knew when to participate, when to observe, when to pretend he didn't know things he definitely knew.
Complicated because Izuku was starting to attract the wrong kind of attention.
"Quirkless Deku can't even throw a ball!" a kid named Sato taunted during recess.
Izuku's shoulders hunched. He'd been dealing with this for months, but it never got easier.
Haruto and Mina approached.
"Leave him alone," Mina said.
"Why? He's useless!"
"He's our friend."
"Then you're all useless!"
Haruto placed his hand on the ground. Vines sprouted, wrapping around Sato's ankles—not tight, not dangerous, just annoying.
"Hey! Let go!"
"Say sorry," Haruto said calmly.
"No!"
The vines tightened slightly.
"OKAY, OKAY! Sorry!"
The vines retreated. Sato ran off, looking spooked.
"Thanks," Izuku said quietly.
"Don't thank us. Punch him next time."
"I can't fight!"
"Learn."
"Haru-kun, violence isn't the answer—"
"It's AN answer."
"Miss Aoki says violence is never the solution!"
"Miss Aoki doesn't get bullied."
Mina intervened. "How about we teach you self-defense? Not fighting. Defense."
"That's still fighting."
"It's DEFENSIVE fighting!"
"Those are both fighting!"
"But one sounds better!"
They eventually convinced Izuku to let them teach him basic self-defense. Which is how Bakugo found out and immediately declared it "training."
"IF YOU'RE GONNA LEARN TO FIGHT, LEARN PROPERLY!" he announced at their next training session.
"I don't want to fight," Izuku protested.
"TOO BAD! HEROES FIGHT!"
"But—"
"NO BUTS! FIGHTING TIME!"
Tamaki watched this with amusement. "Katsuki has a point. Basic self-defense is important."
"THANK YOU!"
"But we're not teaching four-year-olds actual combat."
"WHY NOT?!"
"Because I value my teaching license."
They compromised on "defensive maneuvers" which was basically teaching Izuku how to dodge and block without actually hitting anyone.
Bakugo was disappointed but participated anyway.
"At least Deku's TRYING now," he said afterward.
"That's almost nice," Haruto observed.
"I'M ALWAYS NICE!"
"You're loud."
"LOUD AND NICE!"
"Pick one."
"BOTH!"
At home, things had changed too.
Gerald was now three feet tall and had opinions about everything.
"You're getting too big," Haruto told him one evening.
I'm growing at a natural rate.
"You're a fern. You're supposed to be small."
I'm an exceptional fern.
"You're an exceptional pain."
Same thing.
The cherry tree sapling had become a full tree—not through Haruto's intervention, just regular growth. It was now taller than him and had started producing blossoms.
Finally, it said proudly. I can properly photosynthesize.
"That's great," Haruto said.
You don't sound excited.
"I'm excited on the inside."
You're four. You shouldn't be this emotionally constipated yet.
"Did you just call me constipated?"
Emotionally constipated. There's a difference.
"I'm being roasted by a tree I helped grow."
That's called karma, Gerald added helpfully.
"Nobody asked you."
You never ask. I volunteer wisdom anyway.
His parents had accepted the plant conversations as normal. His father would come home and ask, "What did the plants say today?"
Usually, the answer was some variation of "they're judging me."
Plants were very judgmental.
Kindergarten was ending soon. Next year would bring first grade, which meant:
Real homework.
More structured learning.
Higher expectations.
"I'm not ready," Haruto told Izuku during lunch.
"Nobody's ready. That's the point."
"That's terrible design."
"That's education."
Mina joined them, plopping down with her lunch. "Did you guys hear? We're having an end-of-year performance!"
"Oh no," Haruto said.
"Oh YES!" Izuku said.
"It's gonna be SO FUN!" Mina continued. "We each get to show off our quirks! Or skills!" she added quickly, glancing at Izuku.
"I don't want to show off," Haruto said.
"Too bad! It's mandatory!"
"Everything is mandatory."
"That's school!"
Miss Aoki confirmed it that afternoon. "End-of-year showcase! Each student will demonstrate something they've learned!"
The class had mixed reactions.
"Can I eat something impressive?" Takeshi asked.
"No."
"Can I melt something impressive?" Mina asked.
"Controlled melting only."
"Can I grow something impressive?" Haruto asked without enthusiasm.
"Yes! That would be wonderful!"
"That wasn't an offer, that was a hypothetical."
"Too late! You're growing something!"
Haruto put his head down on his desk.
"You okay?" Izuku whispered.
"I'm having regrets."
"About what?"
"Everything. Life. This conversation."
"That's dramatic."
"I'm four. I'm allowed to be dramatic."
Planning for the showcase became the class's main focus.
Yuki was making an ice sculpture. Kenji was doing a stretching routine. Hana was creating a controlled flame pattern (supervised).
Takeshi wanted to eat a chair but was convinced to do a "strength demonstration" instead. It involved lifting things. Not eating them.
"Progress," Miss Aoki said.
Mina was doing an acid control demonstration—melting things in specific patterns to create art.
"It's CREATIVE melting!" she explained.
"That's just melting with extra steps," Haruto said.
"No! It's ART!"
"It's melted art."
"CREATIVE MELTED ART!"
Izuku was doing a presentation about hero analysis, complete with charts and graphs.
"I made a WHOLE PRESENTATION!" he said excitedly, showing Haruto his thirty-page notebook.
"That's a lot of pages."
"It's COMPREHENSIVE!"
"That's a lot of comprehensive."
"Is that bad?"
"It's very you."
"I'll take that as a compliment!"
"You should."
Haruto was stuck growing something "impressive" which meant he'd have to actually try instead of his usual minimal effort approach.
"What are you growing?" Tamaki asked during their next session.
"Contractually obligated plants."
"That's not a species."
"It should be."
"What does Miss Aoki want?"
"Something impressive."
"Define impressive."
"I don't know. A tree? A flower display? A small forest?"
"Don't grow a forest. The park service is still processing your last accident."
"It was ONE tree."
"It was ONE GIANT tree that appeared in THREE SECONDS."
"Details."
They practiced controlled growth for the showcase. By the end, Haruto could grow a flower arrangement on command. It was neat, precise, and completely unimpressive to him.
"That's perfect!" Tamaki said.
"It's boring."
"It's controlled. That's the point."
"The point is boring."
"You're four and more cynical than I am at forty-five. That's concerning."
"I contain multitudes of cynicism."
"That's not how that phrase works."
"It is now."
The showcase arrived with predictable chaos.
The gymnasium was packed with parents, cameras ready. Haruto's mother had brought three cameras. His father had brought snacks.
"Why snacks?" Haruto asked.
"These things run long," his father said wisely. "Always bring snacks."
Miss Aoki organized the chaos into lines.
"Alphabetically! By last name!"
"That puts me near the front," Haruto observed.
"Is that bad?" Izuku asked.
"It means I can't escape."
"You weren't going to escape anyway."
"I could try."
"Miss Aoki is blocking the exits."
"She planned this."
"She's a professional."
One by one, students performed. Some went well. Some went poorly. Takeshi lifted a chair without eating it, which everyone agreed was a victory.
Mina's acid art was actually impressive—she melted a pattern that looked like a flower.
"It's beautiful!" her parents called.
"THANKS!" Mina beamed.
Then it was Haruto's turn.
He walked to the center of the gym, placed his hand on a pot of soil Miss Aoki had provided, and grew his flower arrangement.
Five flowers. Different colors. Perfect spacing. Controlled growth. Exact timing.
It took thirty seconds.
The crowd applauded politely.
"That's my boy!" his mother shouted, taking pictures.
Haruto returned to his spot in line, ready to be done.
"That was amazing!" Izuku whispered.
"It was five flowers."
"FIVE PERFECT FLOWERS!"
"You sound like my dad."
"Your dad has good taste!"
When it was Izuku's turn, he gave his presentation with the enthusiasm of someone defending a doctoral thesis.
"—and as you can see from this chart, the correlation between rescue success and public approval ratings shows a clear trend—"
"Sweetie," Inko called gently. "Maybe summarize?"
"Oh! Right! Summary: Heroes are cool and I analyzed them extensively!"
The crowd laughed. Izuku beamed.
After the showcase, parents mingled while kids ran around with excess energy.
"Your son's control is impressive," another parent told Haruto's mother.
"Thank you! He works very hard."
"Does he have a mentor?"
"Yes, actually! A retired hero!"
"That explains it. Most kids his age don't have that level of precision."
Haruto was hiding behind Gerald—who he'd brought because Gerald insisted on "supporting" him—when Bakugo appeared.
"Your flowers were boring," Bakugo announced.
"Thanks."
"That wasn't a compliment!"
"I know."
"Why aren't you arguing?!"
"Too tired."
"THAT'S BORING TOO!"
"Everything is boring to you."
"NO! Fighting is exciting! And explosions! And—"
"Let me guess. More explosions?"
"YEAH!"
Mina and Izuku joined them.
"We survived!" Mina said.
"Barely," Haruto added.
"But we DID!" Izuku said. "And now we're done with kindergarten!"
"Next year is first grade," Haruto reminded him.
"Don't ruin the moment!"
"I'm being realistic."
"REALISTIC IS BORING!" Bakugo shouted.
"You're boring," Haruto shot back.
"WHAT?!"
"You heard me."
"THAT'S—THAT'S—" Bakugo sputtered. "YOU CAN'T JUST—"
"I just did."
Mina and Izuku watched this exchange with amusement.
"They're like an old married couple," Mina observed.
"I HEARD THAT!"
"WE KNOW!"