"Teach, your children well,
Their father's hell, did slowly go by.~
Feed them, on your dreams,
The one they pick's, the one you'll know by.~"
— Teach Your Children, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
~
The morning had been nothing short of beautiful—a masterfully crafted scene of no equal. The cold, biting wind had run its course, giving way to a magnificent sunrise, breaking through the clouds in a multitude of indescribable colors. Birds sang their merry tune, trees swayed gently in rhythm, and the grass crunched beneath the dew—tiny crystalline structures yielding to life. And witnessing it all was one Midoriya Izuku.
Izuku was a young boy, just five years old, with chubby cheeks and a diamond-shaped pattern of freckles—four on each cheek. His curly, unruly forest-green hair nearly fell into his wide turquoise eyes. A small triangular nose sat between them, softening his otherwise serious expression. He was a bit tall for his age at 48 inches (121.92 cm), though his limbs remained worryingly thin. Today, he wore a silver and red t-shirt—a tribute to the first known hero, whose name had been lost to time—and baggy green shorts.
Unlike many children, Izuku was calm, though not particularly collected. His gaze darted across his backyard, following any movement it could catch—from birds and dancing trees to the beginning of a garden where insects celebrated the sunrise. Even the sudden collapse of a rotted fence post earned a flicker of his eyes. He only followed motion.
Eventually, the sun brightened the world fully—the day resetting itself. New noises filtered into Izuku's mind, and he tried to categorize them until he couldn't anymore. Overwhelmed, he stood at attention as he heard the back door creak open with a sigh.
"Izuku," a voice murmured. "You remember the deal we made?"
Izuku turned to see his mother, Midoriya Inko, yawning in her full-body, seafoam-green sleepwear. Her long, straight green hair reached her mid-back, and her eyes—bright green with hints of yellow—were heavy with sleep. She had a small button nose and stood at an average height of 67 inches (170.18 cm).
"If I am to watch the sunrise," Izuku began, "then I must wake you or Otou-san. I attempted to do so but failed in both efforts. I reasoned there would be no issue, given the circumstances."
Inko blinked slowly. "And how do you figure that?"
"All Might was recently sighted 3.5 miles—5.63 kilometers—east of our location. Considering his patrol history—"
"Izuku," Inko interrupted gently. "It's not just about danger. We need to know where you are. If something happens and you're gone… What are Otou-san and I supposed to do?"
"...Right," Izuku muttered, mood dimming. "I'm sorry, Ka-san. Otou-san."
A yawn echoed behind Inko, and she turned to the source. "Honey, you can go back to bed."
"I would," came a relaxed, announcer-like voice, "but my internal clock won't let me." The man stepped into view—slightly tanned, with short, thick black hair that curled at the ends. His hazel-brown eyes held warmth despite his tired look. His face was clean-shaven, eyebrows thick, and like Izuku, he had a small triangular nose.
Inko sighed, then smiled. "Still, go rest. I'll make coffee for both of us." She looked to Izuku. "Want anything to eat?"
"I'll have the fried rice in the fridge."
"I'll heat it up for you."
Izuku nodded and started inside, pausing in the doorway to glance at the sky—just left of the sun's equator.
"Something interesting out there?" his father asked.
"...No. I don't think so," Izuku replied, not turning.
"Izuku, I love you, but I can't hear you when you speak away from me. Deaf in one ear, nearly ruptured the other, remember?"
Izuku turned, walked to his father, and bowed slightly. "I understand, Otou-san. I apologize."
His father sighed, ruffling Izuku's hair. "No need to be so tense."
Breakfast passed quietly. Everyone was still waking up—except for Izuku, who remained silent for different reasons.
"Oh right," his father said. "Isn't today your Quirk registry appointment?"
"Yes," Izuku replied absently, his mind flashing elsewhere.
"That'll be interesting. Maybe they'll find out more about mine through you."
Inko shook her head. "You know they won't. You've given them nothing to go off of."
His father shrugged. "Still funny, right? The best quirkologists in the world can't figure out one man's Quirk."
Inko let out a small laugh. "There's always ego in that space."
Izuku quietly observed his parents' back-and-forth while finishing his bowl of fried rice—scrambled eggs, leftover pork shoulder, carrots, celery, onions, and Chinese sausage. He washed his dish with the help of a step stool and returned to his seat.
He glanced at the clock. 7:30 a.m. That was odd. He was usually done with breakfast and dishes by 7:00 sharp. 'Maybe I got too caught up watching the sunrise,' he thought. 'Or maybe they woke up late. Otou-san did just return from ruins in the U.S.'
The appointment was at 11 a.m., so there was still time.
"How's your Quirk been?" his father asked.
Izuku blinked. "Interesting. I don't have a direct model to follow, but nearly every Quirk I observe helps me understand mine better."
"Ha! Our boy's already a genius!" his dad exclaimed.
Izuku smiled faintly, cheeks reddening.
"You really have grown," Inko added warmly.
"I thank you both for your compliments," Izuku said, slightly more flustered.
The moment was warm, until a series of high-pitched harmonic notes interrupted it.
His father sighed and stepped away to take a call, pulling out his phone. "Just a moment."
Inko smiled and hugged Izuku. "Why don't you get ready for your appointment?"
"I understand," he said, heading off.
~
Changing was simple—forest green t-shirt, black shorts, dark green socks. He handled his toiletries without help; he'd been doing that since he was three. His parents were busy—Ka-san especially, whose Quirk demanded surgical precision.
Otou-san's work was different but no less important. Humanity had nearly been reset at the start of the 21st century—thrust into a pseudo-Stone Age, then quickly rebuilt. His father studied that lost history.
Izuku frowned into the mirror. That was the part that didn't make sense: there was no record of anything before the 21st century. Knowledge had been retained, but the words were gone.
He shook his head. "No use thinking about it," he muttered—but even he didn't believe that.
He checked the bathroom clock. 8:00 a.m. Still time.
Exiting the bathroom, he found his father rubbing his forehead.
"Otou-san?" Izuku asked, concerned.
His father jumped slightly. "Izuku! Sorry, just… work stuff. Don't worry about it. It's your day, right? Could you wait in the car?"
"But… the appointment is at 11. Why would I go to the car at 8?"
"Ah, uh," Otou-san stammers, clearly clambering for a response. "Th-then go play in your room for a little while. I need to talk to Ka-san, it's really important, and a little embarrassing, so I don't want you hearing it."
Izuku blinked, then nodded, walking off again. He supposed with so much time ahead of him, he could write more—maybe dive back into Quirk theory. The thought brightened his face as he remembered his previous online inquiries.
Instead of entering his own room, Izuku turned left at his door, stepping into another room and climbing onto a chair in front of the family's desktop. He booted it up and navigated to the hero forum he frequented. His breath hitched with excitement when he saw over sixty notifications—only for it to fizzle as he opened them.
Just more people agreeing or nitpicking. Nothing fresh. No challenge. No spark of insight.
He sighed. No nuanced replies. No real conversations.
DMs it was, then.
He wasn't really supposed to be reading them unsupervised, but Higurashi-san was different. His parents trusted the old man too—and that kind of thing didn't come easy.
Dekiru: [Hello, Higurashi-san, how are you feeling today?]
A minute passed.
Higurashi: [Ah, hello, Dekiru-san. I'm sad to say I'm not feeling well today. But I thank you for asking—nobody seems to have the decency of simple polite words these days. Such a shame. Enough of me though, how do you feel? Your Quirk still behaving? No mishaps or otherwise?]
Dekiru: [No, my Quirk's been fine, Higurashi-san. After that early boost in progress, though, everything else has been slow going. Do you have any Quirks I could look into to improve myself?]
Higurashi: [Hmm… Well, you've already taken a good look at some Emitter-type Quirks—with theories and research to show for it. I saw that post last night. Your ideas are sound, but too impractical. Too narrowly focused. You build up one side of the Quirk, and everything else falls away. Your other ideas can't keep up.]
Izuku frowned a little but shook it off. Higurashi-san was always blunt—negative to the bone, really—but he never spoke without a reason. Of course, Higurashi-san also asked questions a bit too personal for Izuku's liking, and hit a bit too close to home, but that was just how Higurashi-san was.
'Yeah,' Izuku justifies in his mind, narrowing his eyes while looking down at his hands and the keyboard while his fingers flexed, tapping the keys light enough to not hit said keys. 'Higurashi-san is just like that.'
Higurashi: [What gave you the idea that such a Quirk could exist? I'm curious.]
Dekiru: [A joke, really. I noticed that all the Quirks you ask about are used in the same location. I thought maybe you had some kind of teleportation Quirk… or something that could steal others'. Plus, those disappearances in Hosu Prefecture match up oddly well with the Quirks you've shown. But you're in Shibuya, so it's clearly nonsense.]
Higurashi: [Oh?]
Such a simple response—but it made Izuku shrink a little. He could feel Higurashi-san's judgment in that single word. Cold and precise. It made him shiver.
Higurashi: [Ha! A preposterous thought from a preposterous boy. Keep this up and I may have to kidnap you to keep you quiet!]
Izuku huffed a small laugh like his mother does, rolling his eyes. He hadn't upset him, at least. Who'd believe in such a ridiculous Quirk anyway?
Dekiru: [Well, back to researching Ryukyu. I appreciate you spending time with me.]
Higurashi: [Don't worry about how others use their time. I am merely investing mine. Oh, and do be careful with your appointment in Hosu Prefecture today. You said it yourself—people have been going missing there.]
Izuku blinked.
Dekiru: [I don't believe I ever told you about my appointment today?]
Higurashi: [Careful with your cards, Dekiru-san. I didn't need to know; I only needed to guess. And you gave it away. What if I'd been an actual villain instead of a grumpy old man? Information is king, after all.]
Dekiru: [That doesn't answer my question. I never gave you even an inkling about that appointment.]
There was a pause. Two minutes passed.
Higurashi: [An old man learns to trust his gut, Dekiru-san. Besides, you told me you got your Quirk five months ago—and today's the last legal day for Quirk registration. It wasn't hard to figure out.]
Izuku blinked again. Oh. That was how they met in the first place.
Dekiru: [Right… Thanks again, Higurashi-san. I'll talk to you later.]
He exited the DM window without checking for a final message. Back on the main forum, the thread list scrolled on, quiet and bland.
8:10 a.m.
Still time to burn. And so many questions left unanswered.
~
The rest of the morning passed with Izuku making final preparations, reviewing his Quirk notes, and trying not to overthink the appointment ahead. Before he knew it, they were walking toward the small, hidden alcove where his father kept what he called his "work equipment."
"Are you excited, Izuku?" Inko asked, as the family of three approached a weird, small, cable car-like structure made of metal and components he hadn't truly come to understand. Steam hissed from its joints as they drew closer, and Izuku couldn't help but stare at the intricate designs etched into its metallic surface.
The outside was covered in hot, molten metal, warped with recent use. It made Izuku raise an eyebrow at his father, who made an odd noise like a raspy bird chirp before simply shrugging and saying, "Work?"
They began to sit across from each other on the cable car, Inko instantly strapping herself into a seat, and saying, "Izuku, make sure to use a seatbelt this time."
"Man, I gotta do this again so soon?" Otou-san complained, nose wrinkling in disappointment and a little amusement as he sat down beside his wife.
Inko elbowed him softly and raised an eyebrow. "Three weeks ago, you travelled from the Nevada Bay to the Brazilian Rainforest, then to those ruins in Italy in a day, within three hours, without breaking a sweat. Don't give me that, 'I'm too tired,' attitude."
It hit Izuku immediately, a blow directly to his soul, as he sunk into a memory.
A stone arch crumbling beneath ivy.
The hush of sandals across marble streets.
A temple bell, and laughter in a language his mouth could never shape.
Memories that weren't his.
'Rome,' Izuku absently thought. 'She's talking about Rome.'
Raising his hands in a move reminiscent of backing off, Otou-san made a small wheeze of a laugh, causing Inko to smirk just the slightest bit more. "Okay, okay, looks like I've been caught red handed," He looked at Izuku with a slight smirk of his own. "You ready?"
Izuku nodded rapidly, eyes wide and focused so as to not miss anything, muscles tense with anticipation. "Well, be sure to keep your hands, feet, and heads inside the vehicle at all times, but if you follow one rule, it should be that you. Don't. Blink!"
In a flash, the cable car was gone, accompanied by a small pop.
Izuku's senses were instantly overwhelmed with what felt like everything and nothing all at once. He was both hot and cold, both heavy and weightless. He felt ants crawling under his skin, living in his nerves. The next second, he felt like every pore on his body was filled, as if hair had spontaneously grown, with the next seconds having his body feeling different in so many different ways. It was all so uncomfortable, but Izuku still loved it for one reason only.
Colors. Colors beyond imagination. Colors like this morning, and the one before that, and beyond. Colors unseen by the naked eyes, colors unknown to the human mind, colors simply indescribable to a living being. This was the reason he watched the sunrise, well, at least the best he could. His father had once described his Quirk as the sunrise, as light sinking in the planet's flesh, giving color to an otherwise gray reality. Out of everything he tried, the sunrise was the only thing close enough to capture Otou-san's Quirk, and even then, it wasn't even close to the real thing.
But, just like twilight, it was over. Gone in a flash of nothingness as Otou-san caught Izuku midair. "Whoops, Ka-san told you to put on your seatbelt," Otou-san said in an embarrassed tone.
Izuku looked to his mother, who was breathing deeply, coughing as she unbuckled her seatbelt, until she pulled out an oxygen tank from under her seat, and breathed deeply into the breathing apparatus. Coughing, she shook her head, her faded vision returning ever so slowly.
Inko groaned, her voice still congested. "Ugh. That felt like I coughed up a lung."
Otou-san winced. "Sorry, sorry! I really thought you'd built up a tolerance by now…"
"You thought wrong, again," she snapped, voice very strained, making Otou-san bite his lip, hoping he didn't need to know what his wife said. He began to regret not learning lip reading as Inko held out a hand to him. "Give the things, honey."
"The things?"
"The things, the paper things!" Inko mumbled, trying to breathe through her mouth while keeping the snot in her nose, making her words nearly unhearable to the nearly deaf father. "The absorbent papers, whatever they are! Izuku used them to clean off that bug splat that one time!"
He blinked, then awkwardly placed a confused Izuku in her arms.
"Uh, I only hear you say Izuku clearly, so I'm guessing you want him?" the father asked with an apprehensive face.
She stared at him. Then at Izuku. Then back at him.
There was a pause—pregnant with irritation, Inko making small little chirps with her vocal chords that display her confusion, disappointment, and frustration. Her mind racing to find the word she was looking for, until-
"Tissues, Midoriya Shin," she said through gritted teeth, snot slightly dribbling out. "Not our son. He is not absorbent."
Otou-san's eyes widened as if that had genuinely never occurred to him. "Oh. Right. Right. Tissues. Absolutely. Totally. Yes." He scrambled for the box like a man dodging a domestic airstrike.
Blowing her nose, Izuku and Otou-san waited with mild discomfort with the noise, looking away to give her privacy.
Izuku tilted heis head in thought, hearing his mother blow her nose. He didn't understand why she always wanted to have Otou-san use his quirk for transport if she always reacted so poorly. There was always those ten minutes after the jump that a person's body went into overdrive, trying to fight a non-existing sickness in their body, flooding and attacking everything that wasn't part of themselves. Of course, Otou-san and Izuku himself weren't affected by this, but Otou-san's Quirk had a different downside for the user, and Izuku was Izuku.
… They really hadn't found a reason for why it didn't affect Izuku, they just knew it didn't.
Graciously, those ten minutes of torture Inko had to endure were over, though Inko was still slightly stuffy, making Otou-san's face slightly pained. "We could've just driven here. It was only 30 minutes away," Otou-san mutters, making Inko sigh.
"Izuku likes it," She said in response, making Otou-san chuckle.
Though a searching glance was thrown Inko's way with that comment, Otou-san's eyebrows furrowing- fast enough where Izuku might've missed it if he wasn't looking at his father.
"Well- okay just don't spoil him too much," Otou-san said with a shrug, still trying to chuckle, even with said emotional pain evident across his face.
"Anyways, are you ready for this, Izuku?" Inko asked, smiling at her son, wiping her nose a little with a large sniffle before opening the door of the cable car like contraption. "You know this is a big leap for you in life."
Izuku breathed in deeply. His chest felt too tight, like a knot pulled taut from both ends. He smiled anyway, because that's what the brave did. "Ready as I'll ever be."
~
To be Continued…