Chapter Text
Age: 3.5 years
People had been assuming that Izuku’s Quirk was his intelligence for years, although whether that was true remained uncertain. Sherlock’s reincarnation was either a result of his Quirk or another’s; all other possibilities, such as winning the reincarnation lottery, were astronomically unlikely. But none of that mattered in the end. He hadn’t shown signs of any other Quirk, and the only thing left to do with his Quirk was to iron out the specifics. After all, intelligence could be the result of a variety of Quirks, all with their own advantages and limitations. So, he needed to visit a Quirk doctor to finalize his Quirk before entering it into the government records. That is, once he found a decent doctor whose views he could relate with and wasn’t working for All for One. Eventually, he managed to narrow down the options down to one person and handed it to his mother, who by this point knew to listen to Izuku’s opinions. She smiled at him, ruffled his hair (“Thank you, Izuku.”), and went to schedule an appointment.
Due to Deerstalker’s influence over the years - both direct and indirect - Quirk doctors had begun to treat the extra toe joint with a bit more skepticism, opting to first see if the subject had any idea what their Quirk might be, testing to see if it was genuine, and looking at their parent’s Quirks if all else failed. So, when Izuku arrived for his appointment, the doctor didn’t bother x-raying his foot to check whether there was a toe joint or not. Instead, he was asked what his Quirk might be, tested for said Quirk - a high school level reading test may have sounded impressive, but Izuku was practically falling asleep halfway through - and brought to a room with his mother and the doctor for a debriefing about his Quirk.
“In conclusion, Izuku’s Quirk, Logic, increases his IQ to a level above that of even adults. Paired with a child’s ability to learn new concepts, it’s no surprise that he started using a computer when he was only one year old.” She looked down at the subject of her explanation. “You can go far in life if you try, Izuku, and I can’t wait to see how you’ll change this world.”
Izuku nodded to her in acknowledgment as he typed on his laptop, which he had pulled out the minute he sat on the stool. “By the way, can I start going to school? And if so, how many grades can I skip?” He had initially considered becoming a consultant detective again, but that idea was quickly scrapped. Best case scenario, he would be stuck in a police station, doing paperwork because crime scenes were no place for innocent, impressionable youth to be. Besides, it would go into police records, and there was no need to make it easy for All for One to figure out SH ’s true identity. Instead, a better choice would be to get through the required education as fast as possible to get it over with, especially the latter years. Why? Earlier grades may have annoying children, but high school had teenagers. Of course, this was all assuming he could skip through the whole thing.
The doctor gave him a sympathetic smile. “If I could, I would, but it’s not possible. There’s no precedent for such an occurrence, and even if you managed to get approval, you would still have to find a suitable school. Compounded by the fact that you’re only three and a half years old, making you more fragile than other children attending primary school, and the whole situation becomes rather unlikely.”
Izuku’s mouth thinned. As he had expected, there was no other option. So now, he was stuck in school for 12 years with a bunch of children. He could learn everything beforehand and not attend shadow school, but that didn't change the fact that he was still stuck in school for a large part of the day. What a waste of time. Perhaps he could bring his computer and type his extracurricular activities in code? Anyways, he wouldn’t be able to get anything of importance done at this appointment, so he should end the visit. “I understand. Mom, do you have any other questions?”
She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair, unperturbed by her previous exclusion from the conversation. “No, I’m fine, Izuku.”
“Good. And doctor, thank you for your time.” He closed the computer and hopped off the stool. “ I only have three and a quarter years until primary school starts, so that should be plenty of time for me to make my way through the whole school curriculum in addition to my normal activities. I should also start some physical training to rebuild muscle me- ”
“Izuku, you're mumbling again.” He snapped out of his distracted state to smile apologetically at his mother. It had become a recent habit to verbalize his thoughts, likely because he was used to explaining his thought process. Plus, people would believe his deductions more if they saw a physical sign that he was thinking.
(And it was better than turning around to grin at an empty room. Better than calling out to someone that wasn't there. Better than an impossibility.)
Age: 3.75 years
Izuku crossed his arms and glared up at his mother. “Over my dead body.”
Inko sighed. “He went to yours, so you should go to his. It's polite. And Mitsuki said he personally asked for you to come.”
“He just wants me to be there so that he can bother me about how my Quirk isn’t as suited as his for heroics in front of everyone else. For some inexplicable reason, he seems to think that’s public humiliation. Besides, I can barely stand daycare, let alone intentionally going to a location with an influx of children.”
“Katsuki hasn’t ‘bothered you’, as you put it, for quite some time, or you would have mentioned it during dinner. Maybe he’s trying to turn over a new leaf. And if you’re able to make it through daycare almost every single day, getting through the party should be easy.” She smiled. “Please, Izuku?”
Stupid emotional manipulation. Stupid unconditional kindness. And stupid smiles that made Izuku want to give in because of their sheer brightness. No, Izuku was going to stick with his decision - acquiescing to make her happy now would only result in more torture afterward. Stay with the plan. “I am not going to Bakugou’s birthday party. I already go to the same daycare, and they’ll celebrate it there with cake and everything. What’s the point of doing it all over again? We both know that I won't enjoy it.”
Inko’s eyes brightened. “I could ask Mitsuki to come and convince you! She got you to go to your birthday last time, right?” And there was the blackmail. It was a warning sign for Izuku to finish the argument quickly.
“I am not going, and that’s final!”
Izuku resisted the urge to rub his forehead. “Despite popular belief, exceptional intelligence does not equal the ability to read minds.” Bakugou looked upset, but honestly, what had he expected to happen? Izuku had reluctantly arrived at the party five minutes ago because his mother managed to guilt trip him into coming. Thankfully, he only had to be there for an hour. His plan to stay out of sight was promptly destroyed when Bakugou grabbed his arm and dragged him into the guest bedroom to talk. Unfortunately, the child didn’t seem to have thought this through, since they proceeded to have a bit of a staring contest. That is, until now.
“You’re smart.” Judging by the scowl on Bakugou’s face, he hadn’t meant to say that, but he kept going. “You’re smart, and you’re not becoming a Pro Hero, so you’re not competition.” Technically, Izuku was still debating whether to become a Pro Hero or not, but interrupting Bakugou at this point would be counterproductive. “And with your quirk, it won’t be difficult for you to do. You’ve probably already done it anyway, so it’s not like you’d be using a lot of effort.” Ah. That’s what this was about.
“You want me to analyze your Quirk.” He had thought this was a possible action for Bakugou to take, but Izuku didn’t think it would happen this early. After all, Katsuki had issues with him, which became blatantly obvious every single time they interacted. He had underestimated the child’s determination. Of course, that didn’t mean that Izuku was just going to agree without further negotiation. As Deerstalker, even if Bakugou didn’t know about his online account, people were willing to pay hefty amounts of money for analyses of various things. (He’d refused any offers so far, but that was beside the point.) Izuku was hardly going to give out assessments to preschoolers because they asked politely. “And why should I do that?”
Bakugou stared at him, eyes wide in shock, but quickly schooled his expression. “I’ll keep our classmates from interacting with you in class. In return, I want regular discussions about how to improve my quirk. One analysis obviously won’t last me until I get into UA.”
So Bakugou could think things through if he tried hard enough. Izuku shrugged. “Sure.” It would take work, but with enough effort, perhaps he could improve the child’s logic and have a proper conversation with someone. (Not as a replacement for John - never - but instead, a distraction. Something else to keep his mind off Sherlock and on Izuku.) He forced those thoughts away and pulled the backpack off his shoulders to rifle through its contents.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Izuku paused to peer up at the irritated boy. “Getting the relevant notebook to show you my notes on your Quirk.”
Bakugou stared back at him, incredulous. “You want to start now? We’re at my birthday party!”
“So? It’s only the day you were born. You’ll have more. Unless you die, but that’s highly unlikely.”
“We go to the same daycare every day. I’m not missing my birthday party for this!” Bakugou stepped around him and stalked out of the room.
“Huh. Must be one of those normal childhood things John tried to explain to me.” Too bad he’d deleted it with the assumption that he was never going to need it. Izuku glanced around the room to make sure it was empty before pulling out his computer. Perfect. He could just spend the rest of the hour working. Considering the recent request, he grabbed a new notebook from his backpack and flipped it open to the first page. He might as well start drafting up a plan for Bakugou. Now, what was there in his mind palace about Explosion?
The following day, Bakugou stood up in daycare and announced that the next person who tried to talk to Midoriya would get a fist in their face. He then went to sit next to Izuku and requested a starting analysis. Izuku sighed and mentally added subtlety to the list of things they needed to work on before opening the corresponding notebook. “First off, since you’re trying to become a Pro Hero, there’s much more to work on besides just your Quirk. For example...”
Age: 5.375 years
Sometimes, it felt like a higher being was laughing at his misfortune. Izuku stared at the kimono he was wearing with blatant distrust - there were golden dragons and flowers on the damned thing - before flattening his mouth in annoyance. “Remind me why I’m doing this again?”
Beside him, an equally disgusted Bakugou twitched, dressed in a kimono of his own. “Because if you make me go through this alone, I will murder you. And also let our classmates loose on you for a week.”
“Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” Why exactly was Izuku wearing a kimono in the first place? Simple. Japan’s celebrations were evil and deserved to freeze in the seventh layer of hell. Shichi-Go-San was celebrated after a boy’s 5th birthday on November 15th, where they were dragged to a temple and forced to pray. And all of this had to be done while wearing a glorified dress - sorry, kimono.
“Are you sure I can’t just burn down the temple with my Quirk?”
“No, Bakugou, you can’t.” He paused and reconsidered. “Maybe.”
(They do not burn down the temple. Regardless, that night, Izuku dreams of bonfires and screaming. Who needs nightmares when they have memories?)
Age: 7.25 years
Sherlock is was homeschooled. He never had to deal with classes about how addition worked. Never had to stuff useless information into his brain with the prospect of it remaining for years. Never had to deal with condescending teachers banning him from using a laptop in class because it’s against the rules and what if he breaks it?
Izuku took a bite of his lunch, irritated. Okay, so he might be a little jealous of his past self. Sue him. It’s only been six months into his first year, and he's already internally dying from the sheer idiocy in this hellhole. There's only one thing here that makes the whole ordeal bearable: the deal with Bakugou. If Izuku had been forced to interact with other children in addition to everything, the results would have been unpleasant. Speaking of which, the child was coming for another meeting.
“Any changes to the plan, Deku?”
“Not really. Things are progressing as expected, and-” Izuku paused as his mind finished processing the rest of the question. “What did you just call me?”
“Some idiot in class tried to call you Deku. I think he was trying to insult you. Don’t worry, I dealt with him.”
Izuku raised an eyebrow. “So you decided that this was the solution to the name issue.” Interesting.
“I’m not calling you by your last name because that’s too formal for friends, and you won’t let me use your first name for no reason. This works.” Bakugou was still rather defensive on occasion, but at least he wasn’t blowing up at Izuku after every other sentence for some perceived slight. Not verbally, that was - Izuku could sometimes see resentment in the child’s eyes, but it was always quickly covered by the usual anger.
“Of course I have a reason. If you call me by my first name, our parents are eventually going to find out and start thinking we’re friends.”
“But we are friends!” Bakugou frowned. “Is this one of those things where you try to make me figure something out that you think is obvious but really isn’t?”
“Would you believe me if I said no?” A bite. “Your quirk’s acting up again, by the way.”
“Shut up and let me think!” The small explosions stopped, and Bakugou’s eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration. “Playdates?”
“Of course not. We could just practice quirk analysis or do any of our other normal activities.”
“My mom?”
The edge of Izuku's mouth tilted up. “Closer. Why?”
“Well, you try to avoid her when possible, so maybe you're afraid of what she'll do when she finds out?”
“Amazing deduction. That statement made perfect sense.”
“Really?”
“No.” Izuku leaned forward. “When making deductions, you must always consider the people involved, or you will fail. That statement might have been correct with one of your other classmates, but not me. Why?”
Bakugou glared at him. “Because you're an a-”
“Language. The number one hero doesn't curse.”
“-annoying jerk who won't admit that his real Quirk is mind reading. Just being smart doesn’t explain some of the things I've seen you do. You figured out how a kid's Quirk worked after looking at him for two seconds!”
“It was basic deduction.”
“It was an emitter type Quirk!”
Izuku snorted. “Exactly. Basic and boring. And your stalling isn't bad, although you should try doing it from a stranger's point of view. Most villains don't advertise their hobbies or random childhood stories unless they're stupid, and even then, they’re more liable to just make random taunts. And I don't avoid people out of fear. That would mean that I’m afraid of the other children at school. I avoid people because they're annoying and stupid.” The only times he ever felt fear was for others, and those situations usually ended in him facing his enemies head-on.
Bakugou’s eyes narrowed menacingly, but Izuku could tell the child was just disappointed that Izuku had noticed his plan so easily. “Fine.” Another period of silence ensued before Bakugou opened his mouth again. “Your birthdays?”
Finally. “Yes. Elaborate.”
“Well, after you agreed to work with me on my fourth birthday, my mom assumed we were friends and threw a huge party for your fourth birthday, right? I remember you standing there with an obviously fake smile on your face. You hated it. They’ve gotten better since then, but if I start calling you by your first name, maybe she’ll start up again. That right?”
Izuku grinned. “I suppose you have progressed in your deductive skills. Infinitesimally so, but still better.”
Bakugou scowled. “I’m better than everyone else in this goddamn school besides you, and you know it. And stop using such fancy words. ‘A Pro Hero should appeal to audiences of all ages with his or her language,’ right?”
“I’m not going to become a Pro Hero, Bakugou.”
“Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that.”
Age: 9.5 years
Izuku closed his eyes, pensive. The last couple of years had been boring, almost mind-numbingly so. His physical age gave him a limited amount of actions he could take. Venturing into the more disreputable parts of town to make contacts would be akin to suicide, and the word of a nine year old wasn’t very credible, even with his ‘Quirk.’ In addition, he was forced to spend a large part of his time at school, which meant that he couldn't do certain activities without a crowd of curious children looking over his shoulder. If he hadn't gotten special permission to use his computer in class because of his Quirk, he probably would have died from sheer boredom. They were still learning how to speak Japanese in class, for heaven’s sake. Outside of school, he usually spent his time on either speed training or Deerstalker. His training mainly involved running around the neighborhood, as he was too young to undergo serious physical training without repercussions. And as for Deerstalker, the online alias had gained enough credibility to start giving the police some recommendations about their cases, although he couldn’t do much more without signing a contract in person, and Izuku wasn't going to reveal his true identity this early. Not when he was still weak and vulnerable, with his mother and Bakugou unprotected. And now, because of these restrictions, something had happened and he hadn’t known until it was too late.
His eyes snapped back open and focused back on the computer. 'All Might Returns!’ was written large across the screen, an image of the Pro Hero plastered behind it. The first sign he’d gotten that something was wrong was when All for One suddenly disappeared. The second had been All Might’s sudden disappearance at around the same time. His agency had claimed he was taking a short and deserved break, which Izuku filtered through his mental interpreter to mean that the man was out of commission and his agency was panicking like headless chickens. And now, All Might was back, but only a few days after his return, Izuku could already tell that something was wrong. Sightings of him were only centered in one area instead of across multiple cities, he wasn’t appearing as often as before, and he didn’t bother to stay after a fight anymore, almost as if he was on a tight schedule or limited amount of time. The final nail in the coffin was Toshinori Yagi. He had suddenly become emaciated, looking like a strong wind could knock him over, and he was randomly coughing up blood every day.
He must have gotten severely injured, but how? It was most likely because of a battle, considering his overpowered Quirk, and the only person Izuku knew of who could match All Might in a fight was All for One. The man could stockpile multiple Quirks, possibly even multiplying their effect, to stand on the same ground as the Pro Hero. It made sense. (It was all Izuku’s fault. His taunts had caused All for One to be cautious enough to sneak under the radar, and Izuku had failed.)
Now then, what conclusions could he make? First off, All for One was probably severely injured, if not already dead, or All Might wouldn’t still be alive. Secondly, if All for One was alive, Izuku would have to hunt the man down again. Izuku needed a better underground network now. And finally, All Might’s days were numbered. Whatever All for One had done to him would have probably put any other Pro Hero out of commission, judging by how it had affected All Might. Even with his Quirk, All Might wouldn’t be able to continue on like this forever. And when he did fall, the consequences would be severe. After all, the downside of making oneself a legend was the shock and despair that followed the inevitable downfall. (Sherlock knew this better than most. Moriarty’s death created a mess that took two years to clean up - an empty spot in the position of power in the criminal world was disastrous. And, of course, along with the incident came Sherlock’s own faked death, which had its own set of issues.)
Izuku separated his hands from their previously steepled position, settled them on the keyboard, and began typing. He had work to do and a limited amount of time to do it. "Step one," he murmured, "information."
Extra:
When Katsuki was in preschool, he believed everything adults told him. So when they explained that his quirk made him the perfect hero, he didn’t think twice about it. Instead, he started pushing the other kids around, showing off his quirk at every opportunity, and generally acting like an entitled brat. After all, his quirk made him better than everyone else, right?
But everything changed when Izuku entered the scene, getting him to stand down with a couple of words. At first, Katsuki was pissed. How dare that shitty side character act superior to him? He spent weeks fuming about the event, which eventually culminated in him complaining about the whole situation to his mother. He thought she would agree with him, so her response was unexpected.
“He sounds lonely.” Izuku, lonely? Ridiculous. Midoriya wasn’t lonely, or he wouldn’t be sitting in that corner all the time, typing on his computer like a grown-up. He’d be talking with all the other kids, trying to make friends or something. Only an idiot would choose to keep being lonely, and Izuku wasn’t stupid. Katsuki decided to ignore what his mom had said.
Irritatingly, his mind didn’t seem to understand, and now he was stuck with obviously wrong ideas every time he saw Midoriya. He tried riling Izuku up at school to show that the nerd wasn’t lonely, but his brain kept making stupid excuses. ‘He just wants to talk with someone who can keep up with him.’ ‘The other kids are probably just super annoying.’ ‘He never looks happy.’
And then they changed into something more personal. ‘I’m the smartest kid beside him in the class.’ ‘He tolerates my questions more than anyone else’s.’ ‘He smirked the other day while we were arguing.’
[Bakugou’s resolve was strong, but even mountains eventually erode away.]
He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that this thing, whatever it was, wouldn’t just go away by itself. That wasn’t how ideas worked. The more he tried to ignore it, the more he’d think about it. So, he decided to just confront Izuku with a ridiculous excuse to try to get to know the nerd better. Katsuki would make an offer, Midoriya would refuse, and that would be the end. He’d do it on his birthday so he could show his mom how he had obviously tried, but it hadn’t worked. Problem solved. (So what if Katsuki spent days coming up with a really good reason? That just meant he could say he tried his best. He didn’t actually want to become friends spend time with the nerd.)
And then the day arrived. Katsuki asked and Midoriya…
Midoriya agreed to consider the idea.
He agreed.
Katsuki had been wrong .
He quickly shut his mouth and kept negotiating the friendship deal, dragging a scowl back on his face. There was no way in hell that he was going to let Midoriya slip away, not when Katsuki could get professional quirk advice for basically nothing in return. He finished the agreement and returned to his birthday party, thoughts whirling around his head about what to do next. Midoriya was willing to help him become the number one Pro Hero in exchange for some protection from children? Katsuki was going to be the best goddamn bodyguard there was. (Midoriya was lonely? Katsuki would help.)
At first, it was awkward, even if he didn’t understand exactly what he was feeling at the time. Katsuki didn’t know what to talk about, and Midoriya only spoke when necessary. But as time passed, conditions slowly improved, short talks lengthening into conversations and discussions. And Katsuki slowly realized that Midoriya didn’t look down on him. “If I were forced into a physical fight with you right now, I would lose. If you tried to play chess with me right now, you would lose. Just because my Quirk is different doesn’t mean that it’s superior, merely a natural advantage in a different area.” (‘He’s just telling you that to make you feel better,’ a voice whispered in the back of his head. ‘In reality, you’re just weak.’ Katsuki ignored it.)
When Katsuki was in preschool, he had believed everything adults told him. But now, he knew that adults weren’t always right, that adults were as human as him and could make mistakes. They looked at his temper and thought he was stupid, ignoring how he was in the top of every class, how he poured time and effort into learning. After all, he had an amazing Quirk, and that was all that mattered. They looked at Midoriya and thought he was shy and weak, assuming that avoidance and need for protection meant fear of others. They didn’t understand what his Quirk truly meant, not when it wasn’t as blatant as Katsuki’s. Adults were stupid, and if Katsuki wanted to know something, he would have to ask Izuku who was always better than him, no matter how hard he tried because Katsuki wasn’t good enough.