'Man, why'd that R.O.B guy have to lie about me starting as a baby?'
'He seriously made me worry for nothing.'
A boy lay sprawled across the tatami, arms stretched wide as morning air drifted in through the open sliding doors.
'And when is my quirk supposed to manifest anyway?'
'It's really taking its sweet time.'
Elon, now known as Kōshō Shionoya, was lost in his thoughts with his eyes shut when he felt a shadow looming over him.
There were only two possibilities.
One: impending doom.
Two: the man who paid the electricity bill.
He reluctantly cracked one eye open to find out.
The culprit was a tall, lean man in his early thirties standing over him, messy brown hair refusing structure, tired yet energetic brown eyes that seemed permanently unimpressed.
Issie Shionoya, his father… Adopted father to be precise.
"…Why are you lying on the floor like that?"
Kōshō playfully responded. "I'm contemplating the mysteries of the universe."
"You're just lying there." Issie deadpanned.
"That's where the answers come to me."
The man exhaled through his nose, long and tired. "Get up and help prepare breakfast."
Kōshō didn't move.
Seeing this Issie exhaled. "I swear. Every morning you wake up and act like you've discovered a new way to be annoying."
"Is this what raising a kid feels like?"
"It's called growth." Kōshō quipped with a smirk.
"You were 'growing' upside-down yesterday."
"That was a phase."
"..." Issie was speechless.
He stared down at Kōshō for a long moment.
Kōshō stared back with one eye.
The silence stretched.
A rooster crowed loudly somewhere outside with a 'cuck-a-doodle-doo!!'.
Neither blinked.
The man narrowed his eyes and flatly asked. "…Are you challenging me?"
Kōshō narrowed his one available eye harder then replied with. "Not really… but I'm born ready."
"You were born crying."
"That's what warriors do."
The man's eye twitched at that.
They held the stare for another three seconds.
Four.
Five.
Kōshō's other eye slowly opened.
"…You blinked." He said arbitrarily.
"What are you talking about kid, I did not."
"You 'emotionally' blinked." Kōshō smirked.
"Emotionally, what…" Issie gawked. He pinched the bridge of his nose like he was holding back a migraine. "Ha… This is unbelievable. You know what? Fine. You win. Rot on the floor. Become one with the tatami. I'll just accept the fact that I'm raising a funky gremlin child."
"I prefer 'philosopher in repose.'"
"You prefer being weird. How do you even know these terms?"
Kōshō folded his arms. "Because I've seen things."
"You've seen cartoons and whatever things you're watching on QuirkTube."
"They were emotionally complex." Kōshō retorted.
Hey. You can't blame him. There were only so many ways to pass time with an eight year-old body.
"Right." The man dragged a hand down his face like he was physically trying to wipe away the morning.
He turned on his heel, grumbling under his breath something about the 'next generation', and walked toward the kitchen where the sound of cooking was resounding shortly after.
<> — - -— --<>-- -— - — <>
"Breakfast is ready."
Kōshō didn't move nor respond.
The man's face darkened in the kitchen.
"If you don't get here in five seconds, I'm eating your portion."
Kōshō shot upright so fast his head spun slightly. His balance wobbled for half a second, short legs, traitorous center of gravity, before he steadied himself and walked with forced dignity toward the kitchen.
"You weaponize food. That's sacrilegious."
"It's effective." The man smirked triumphantly, knowing it would work on Kōshō.
The low dining table was already set. Bowls arranged neatly. Steam rising gently. A spread that looked aggressively nutritious.
Kōshō stopped and stared.
A bowl of rice. Miso soup. Stir-fried cabbage, carrots, and bell peppers. Some sautéed spinach. A modest, aggressively healthy arrangement.
"This looks like the garden staged a coup."
Issie dropped into his seat. "That spinach went through heat trauma for you. Show respect."
Kōshō sat as well.
He picked up his chopsticks slowly, suspiciously.
"…If I start photosynthesizing, I'm blaming you."
"Just eat."
Kōshō stared down at his bowl of rice like it had personally betrayed him.
He took a reluctant bite of spinach.
And somewhere between the crunch of overachieving vegetables and the steam rising from his miso soup, his thoughts drifted.
The man sitting across from him is: Issie Shionoya.
His adopted father.
The surname Kōshō carried currently had come from him.
A little over a month ago, Kōshō woke up on a hospital bed with a pounding head, an eight-year-old body, and a life that wasn't technically his, but also was.
That was the part that still made his brain itch.
He hadn't started as a baby.
Despite what a certain cosmic liar with a hobby of theatrics might've implied.
Apparently, he'd been caught in a villain incident that had gone catastrophically wrong.
They also said his parents had died during the incident.
No relatives came forward.
When he'd been found, there hadn't been much left to identify him by.
Burnt, dust-coated clothes. A head injury bad enough to leave a jagged scar across his scalp which is hidden now beneath slowly growing hair. And, oddly enough, an Endeavor plushie that had survived the destruction, like a dramatic symbol of irony.
That was it.
No records beyond what the authorities said, so that didn't help.
No childhood memories that felt entirely… his.
And in that sterile hospital room, Issie had been there, taking care of him the entire time.
An ex–pro hero turned detective in his early thirties.
When Kōshō had asked why he'd adopted him, Issie always brushed it off.
"Felt responsible." He'd say.
Or. "Couldn't just leave you there."
Kōshō didn't push.
Because, honestly?
It was better than the alternative.
Better than an orphanage as far as Kōshō was concerned.
He took another bite of cabbage.
Kōshō couldn't complain.
The house was modest but warm. The tatami floors were always clean. The electricity bill was consistently paid.
When he first stepped into the house, it had been closer to a disaster site than a home.
It took awhile with them working together to tidy things up, and boy did that make him sweat aplenty.
Also, Issie cooked breakfast every day without fail.
Which Kōshō doubted he did prior his arrival.
It warmed his heart by the gestures, they also grew closer and had begun to warm up to each other, but like Issie, Kōshō was too prideful to admit it.
Maybe that's what drew both of them together.
Still…
There was one thing that didn't sit right.
His quirk hadn't manifested yet.
Not when he woke up.
Not in the weeks since.
Not even a flicker.
Quirks usually appeared at birth or between one and four years old. That was basic knowledge.
He was eight.
Eight!
But he knew he had one.
R.O.B might've lied about that too, but the hospital diagnostics confirmed it—one extra joint in his pinky toe.
So, where was it?
If this body had lived eight years, it should've appeared.
Unless…
He was a late bloomer.
He stabbed a carrot with more force than necessary.
Issie glanced up at the sound. "The vegetables didn't do anything."
Kōshō blinked, then huffed softly.
"Just thinking."
"That's always concerning."
He didn't respond.
Instead, he stared into his miso soup, watching the ripples settle.
Until his quirk manifested…
He can't really do anything now other than do some chores.
He wasn't just being idle though, he'd been making use of the computer to figure out the timeline.
All Might was already the #1 Pro Hero. Endeavor was right behind him, and there's no site of Mt. Lady or Kamui Woods in the Billboard rankings.
He can only conclude he's in Midoriya's generation.
Kōshō lifted his bowl and took a sip.
Fine.
If the universe wanted to play mysterious, it could.
He had time.
Issie set his bowl down with a soft clack.
"After breakfast, you're coming with me."
Kōshō didn't look up, busy poking at his greens. "Where."
"I told you already. I'm enrolling you."
"…Ah."
Issie pointed his chopsticks at him. "Don't 'ah' me. I mentioned it three days ago."
"You mentioned it in passing while threatening me with broccoli, I didn't know whether you were serious or not."
"Yet the information was delivered and now you know. You're going into third grade, so be prepared."
Third grade.
Right.
Japan's school placement was strictly age-based. Genius or not, attendance history or not, eight meant third grade.
Which meant he'd be placed neatly into a classroom with other eight-year-olds.
Kōshō rested his chin in his hand. "This means that I'm gonna be put in a room full of energetic children."
Issie raised a brow. "You are a child."
"Physically? Yes. Mentally? Debatable."
Issie ignored that, clearly already had enough with playful banter. "I'll handle your registration. So, I'll be dropping you next door while I'm away."
That topic finally got his attention.
"Next door?"
"I asked the neighbors if they could keep an eye on you for a bit while I'm at the school office. Can't exactly drag you around during enrollment."
Kōshō considered this.
"So I'm being temporarily outsourced."
"You're being supervised."
"Same thing."
After they were done washing the dishes and cleaning the table, they got ready to greet the neighbor.
Issie stood. "Shoes. We're leaving."
<> — - -— --<>-- -— - — <>
The late morning sun was warmer than it had any right to be.
Kōshō walked half a step behind Issie, observing the neighborhood curiously.
The neighborhood was tidy—narrow streets, trimmed hedges, distant cicadas warming up the summer air.
Normal.
Painfully normal.
Now that he thought about it… he hadn't really been outside much in this world other than the trip to Issie's house from the Child Welfare services.
They stopped in front of a modest two-story house with a polished nameplate near the door.
Toga.
Kōshō's eyes lingered.
Wait.
That surname sounded awfully familiar.
While he was wracking his brain over it, Issie knocked.
"Good morning." He called casually.
The door slid open.
"Oh! Shionoya-san, good morning."
A well-dressed woman greeted them with a pleasant smile. Behind her stood a neatly composed man in slacks.
"This is my adopted son I was talking to you two about." Issie said, resting a light hand on Kōshō's shoulder. "Shionoya Kōshō."
'Might as well play the part.'
Kōshō gave a small bow. "Nice to meet you."
"How polite!" Mrs. Toga beamed.
Issie continued. "Thank you again for agreeing to watch him for a short while. I'll be enrolling him at the elementary school this morning."
"Oh!" Mrs. Toga clasped her hands together. "He's eight right?"
"He is."
"That means he'll be in third grade." Mr. Toga noted.
"Yes." Issie confirmed again.
Hearing that, Mrs. Toga expression brightened immediately. "Himiko is in third grade too!"
She turned toward the hallway. "Himiko, sweetheart? Come say hello."
There was the faint shuffle of small feet.
Then—
A girl stepped into view.
Fair skin, inward-tilting yellow eyes with thin, slit-like irises. Ash-blonde hair in a messy layered bob, blunt bangs hovering above her eyes while the rest flared in playful strands.
She looked… bright.
Not loud.
But bright and curious.
She clasped her hands behind her back and tilted her head slightly.
"Himiko Toga." She said sweetly. "Nice to meet you."
And that's when it clicked.
Toga.
Himiko Toga.
Oh…
Oh no.
Himiko Toga is my neighbor.
Great.
She was standing in front of him looking like the cutest third grader in existence.
He kept his face neutral.
Internally, however:
'Fantastic.' The universe really said. "You want a cozy, peaceful life?" Then handed a future narrative wreck with blunt bangs as a neighbor.
He straightened slightly and offered a polite nod.
"Kōshō Shionoya. It's nice to meet you too."
Himiko stepped a little closer, studying him openly.
"You just moved here, right?"
"Yes." Kōshō nodded.
"Do you like it?"
He glanced around.
"It's very… structurally sound."
She blinked again, not exactly understanding what 'structurally' meant.
Then smiled wider.
"I like the park nearby." She said. "There are ducks."
Ducks.
Good.
'Ducks are significantly less threatening than blood sucking.' Kōshō mused.
Issie checked his watch. "Alright. I'll be back in about two hours."
He crouched slightly to Kōshō's height. "Behave yourself."
Kōshō frowned faintly. "Define behave."
"Kōshō." Issie warned with a heaviness in his tone.
You had to understand that those kinds of things normally don't work to Kōshō, and he would've just ignored it. But since there are other people around he can't openly ignore him too.
"I am the picture of civility." He flamboyantly gestured in grace.
Mrs. Toga laughed behind her hand at his antics.
Issie stood, clearly regretting multiple life decisions based on the expression on his face.
"Don't cause problems." He added.
"I will." Kōshō replied.
It was at this time that Mr. Toga then said. "Don't worry Shionoya-san we'll take good care of Kōshō-kun.''
"Thank you." Issie appreciated that. "I'll be back soon."
With that, he stepped off the porch and down the path.
Kōshō watched him go.
Then turned back toward Himiko.
She was still smiling.
Not eerie and ominous like she is in canon.
Just plain, innocent curiosity.
"…Do you want to see the ducks later?" She asked, her eyes sparkling.
Kōshō paused.
This was either the beginning of wholesome childhood friendship—
—or something really significant's gonna change to the timeline.
He still hasn't forgotten R.O.B's advice about him being a walking butterfly effect.
However…
'Fuck it..' He threw caution to the wind.
He put both his small hands behind his head and relaxed.
"Bet."
....................................
I think I've overdone the length of this one. I was realistically aiming for 1,500-1,700 words per chapter. but then I figured that since it's the first chapter, I should properly express the dynamic of the household Kōshō is now living under, then introduce Himiko for the following chapter.
Let me know what you guys think.
Thank you for reading this, I'll make sure it'll be worth your time reading.