Chapter 5:
Sometimes I forget how small we really are. Not just in stature, but in the vast scheme of things yet to come. But as I watched the world through the limited, low perspective of a four-year-old, that smallness became very palpable.
I was sitting on the edge of the sandbox, feeling the rough, cold texture of the wood beneath my fingers. I watched the playground with a calm unusual for a four-year-old, especially considering who the original Katsuki Bakugo was. Here, in this fenced-in square of dirt and concrete, there were no post-apocalyptic "jungles" or middle school "predators"; just kids learning how to use their bodies and their voices. Sometimes they acted with cruelty, yes, because no one had taught them yet how to gauge the impact of their actions. Child psychology is fascinating, a brutal testing ground for personality formation, but it becomes exhausting when you have an adult mind trapped in such a small body. Every emotional outburst, every squabble over a toy, felt amplified, ridiculous, and crucial all at once.
I sighed, brushing the sand off my red sneakers. My goal in this life wasn't to be the "king" of this place, the arrogant bully who dominated the games, but something much more ambitious and quiet: to ensure the future was better than the tragic story I knew. And for that, I needed to rewrite the foundation of relationships.
"Leave me alone!"
Izuku's strangled voice interrupted my thoughts. It was a familiar sound, a cry of frustration and repressed pain that I had heard countless times in my memory, albeit in a different context.
I looked up. Near the swings, three kids, led by one with curly hair and buck teeth, surrounded Izuku. It wasn't an epic fight or a violent attack; they were simply picking on him with that subtle, stinging malice that only children can master. They laughed at him, shoved him gently from side to side, and mercilessly mocked him for being Quirkless. Izuku, as always, tried to make himself small, hugging his worn notebook to his chest like a useless shield and holding back tears with all his might. His lip was visibly trembling.
I felt a pang of annoyance, not at Izuku—the defenseless kid who would become the Number One Hero—but at the persistence of the canon. In the original story, I would have been right there, leading the taunts with my little explosions. But now... now I only saw a noble kid being punished for the sheer bad luck of being born powerless in a world that idolized strength.
I stood up and walked toward them. I didn't need intimidating explosions or theatrical shouting. The authority of my presence and the reputation of my Quirk were enough. I walked with a steady, slow, and deliberate pace until my shadow covered them.
"That's enough," I said when I reached them. My tone was calm, almost bored, which was more effective than anger, but it carried a steely resolve.
The three kids stopped dead in their tracks. They knew me. They knew my Quirk was undeniably powerful, but more than that, they knew I no longer participated in their stupid games. My lack of interest in their hierarchy was my true weapon.
"K-Katsuki... we were just telling Deku that..." one started, nervously trying to justify their bullying.
"I know what you were doing," I interrupted, calmly stepping between them and Izuku. I didn't adopt a fighting stance; I simply drew a line in the sand with my body. I looked the leader in the eye. "Izuku is my friend. If you have a problem with him, you have a problem with me. And I have better things to do than waste my time fighting with you in the sandbox. Is that clear?"
The kids exchanged uncomfortable glances, realizing the fun was over. Without the gratification of an easy victim, and facing the prospect of my wrath, the game lost its appeal. They muttered a reluctant "yes" and quickly scattered.
I turned to Izuku. He was already wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to force a grateful smile.
"Thank you, Kacchan... sorry for bothering you."
I shook my head gently. I had to be more than just a protector; I had to be a catalyst.
"You're not a bother, Izuku. But you have to stop listening to them. Your worth doesn't depend on what a few idiots who only know how to shove think." I patted him on the shoulder. "Come on. We have training in the woods. That's the only thing that matters right now. The work."
That afternoon, the woods behind my house became our sanctuary. The training was simple, adapted to our bodies: running, climbing trees, basic calisthenics. I knew Izuku needed a solid physical foundation long before even dreaming of One For All, and I needed to perfect the control of my sweat without blowing up the trees. It wasn't a competition. We were two hopefuls running side by side.
"Kacchan, look! I can keep up with you!" Izuku said, panting from the effort of running uphill, but with a bright determination in his green eyes.
"I see that," I replied, slowing down slightly to run exactly at his pace. There was no need to humiliate him. "You're improving your stamina. Good job!"
We reached the shallow river. An old oak log, felled by a storm, bridged the gap from one side to the other. It was our last obstacle of the day, a test of balance.
"Be careful, it rained yesterday. The moss must be slippery," I warned, stepping up to cross first.
I walked carefully, focused on the narrow, damp log. I didn't want to show off, just cross without incident. But sometimes, a four-year-old's body betrays even the most prepared mind. I stepped on a piece of rotten bark, my foot slipped, and I completely lost my balance.
There was no time to react, nor to activate my Quirk.
Splash!
I fell backward into the cold water. The impact stunned me for a second, more from the surprise than the pain. I sat on the rocky riverbed, waist-deep in dark water, blinking as my hair dripped.
Wow... how clumsy, I thought, feeling a pang of childish embarrassment mixed with adult resignation. Even with a thirty-year-old mind, gravity is unforgiving when your footing is unstable.
"Kacchan!"
Izuku's voice sounded alarmed, devoid of any mockery. I heard the frantic splashing of his sneakers before I saw him. He had jumped into the water without a second thought. He reached my side, pale with genuine worry, and held out his hand. He was soaked in seconds, shivering slightly from the sudden cold.
"Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Did you hit your head?" he asked, his wide eyes scanning my body for injuries.
I stared at him. The scene instantly overlapped with my memories of the original manga: the iconic image of his outstretched hand, the hand he had offered me, the gesture the original Bakugo had viciously rejected. But this time, I didn't feel anger, nor that seething rage of feeling looked down upon.
What I saw was simply Izuku. The pure, unbreakable essence of a hero who doesn't need power to act. He didn't think about himself, or his wet clothes. He just wanted to help his friend. It was a primal, selfless instinct.
It's incredible, I thought, feeling a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with my Quirk. Even now, being so small, he is already who he needs to be. He's already a hero.
I smiled. A small, perhaps awkward, but absolutely sincere smile.
"I'm fine, Izuku. I just slipped."
And I took his hand.
His grip was firm and warm, much stronger than his appearance suggested. He sighed in relief, the panic giving way to a nervous laugh, and used all his childish strength to help pull me up.
"You scared me," he admitted, letting out a shaky giggle.
"I scared myself too," I admitted, shaking the water off my arms. "Thanks for the help, buddy."
Izuku lit up. He felt validated, useful. Seeing that simple joy was infinitely more rewarding than any victory in a preschool fight.
We climbed out of the river, soaked to the bone but at peace. As we walked back, with the setting sun drying our clothes a bit, I glanced sideways at Izuku. The cold water had washed away any pending debts with destiny.
There was respect. A bond forged in the mud and mutual support.
"Hey, Izuku," I called out.
"Yes, Kacchan?" He looked at me, expecting my usual orders or criticism.
"Keep it up. Don't ever change how you are." I looked straight ahead, toward the path leading home. "We're going to be great heroes. Both of us."
Izuku nodded with a smile that was no longer forced, but determined and full of that inner light that defined him.
"Yeah! I promise!"
[End of Preschool Arc]